Monday, May 24, 2010

Gross (Or, Long Overdue Overheard)

Since I've been phototasticicizing instead of coughing up stories, here's a very long overdue set of "I can't believe I just heard that"-icisms:

WOMAN AT BRUNCH: I had sex sober last week and it was gross.

10-YEAR-OLD BOY ON STREET: So what it's Mother's Day. She needs to get off my dick.

TEENAGE GIRL TO HER GROUP OF FRIENDS: Omigod...you are so lucky you're dating Matthew. He's such a good texter.

I'll Tumbl 4 Ya (Or, Dig For Fire)

Yes, it's true.

Lately, I've been getting photo-heavy up in this piece, and the blog is bogged down with imagery.

So, as if I ever needed another distraction, I started a Tumblr photoblog here:

Dig For Fire

So click it, follow it, dig it.

Stories to come.

Tuesday, May 11, 2010

Hoohaa Shitstain? (Or, Stealth Marketing)


I saw a movie (the fantastic Please Give) the other day with my friend Patty. As we walked into the theater, Patty turned to me and said:

"I love Ice Road Truckers!"

I didn't know what she was talking about. We sat down.

"Have you seen Ice Road Truckers? It's so great!"

I have her a sidelong what-the-fuck? glance. I still had no idea what she was talking about. I felt like she was saying some nonsensical term like "hoohaa shitstain" over and over again.

"Seriously, have you seen Ice Road Truckers? It's a great show!"

"What the hell are you talking about?"

"Ice Road Truckers? It's a fantastic new show on the History Channel. There are posters and ads throughout the theater. You should check it out!"

I felt like my friend Patty had been quietly replaced by an overexcited marketing droid sometime between us buying sodas and strolling across that insanely "funky" patterned carpeting all multiplexes are crippled with. I was concerned.

"Why do you keep saying the title over and over and over again? Are you secretly a stealth marketer for whatever-it-is-you-keep-saying?"

"Ice Road Truckers. It's a great show. Ice Road Truckers. Seriously. Check it out!"

I teased Patty endlessly the rest of the afternoon. All I could imagine was her popping up in odd places, slyly and not-so slyly sliding into strangers' lives and dropping references to "Ice Road Truckers" and pumping her marketing impressions quota through the roof .

PATTY AT THE GAP: Those jeans look great on you. You know what else is great? Ice Road Truckers.

PATTY ON FIFTH AVENUE: Yes, I'm sorry I stole your wallet. You know what, I'll give it back if you watch Ice Road Truckers.

PATTY HIJACKING A BUSLOAD OF TOURISTS: On your right you can see some other place that Sex and the City or Law and Order filmed. On your left is one of the former governor's hookers. On Tuesdays you can see Ice Road Truckers at 8pm!

PATTY AT VICTORIA'S SECRET: No, you can't return panties after you've worn them. But you can return to Ice Road Truckers any time you want. It's on the History Channel - check it out!

*Editor's note from Patty herself: "OMG! I literally have tears running down my face from laughing so hard!! I love "ice road truckers" which is on the discovery channel not history, you know in case you wanted to watch it. Also another good show is "whale wars" that is on animal planet and starts this summer :) so be sure to check the listings :)"

I think she just got a salary increase....

Friday, May 07, 2010

Enough With The Photoslop (Or, Carrie Nation)

While I'm sure I'll get some shits and giggles out of Sex and Some Shitty 2: We're Still Whoring Luxury Goods Like It's 2006 when it will inevitably play over and over again on Home Box Office's latest satellite channel HBO-HO, I ain't planning on getting "Carried Away" in the theater this time around. Last time was bad enough...with the "labels and love" poop and the "Louise from St. Louis" crap and the brokedown wedding turd and the Mexican diarrhea. It's bad enough to be accosted daily in the subway by the breathtaking and frightening Photoshop-slop work that's hobbling across all those movie posters (did any of the four actresses actually show up in front of a camera...or were they merely recomposed from shit that retouchers had on file?). And the preview...oh, honey. Dragging out Liza for a performance at a gay wedding?

How. Very. Dare. She.

Wednesday, May 05, 2010

Underachieving Stripper (Or, Just Take Your Top Off Already)

By far one of the funniest exchanges I've heard recently:

"We went to the Slipper Room to see some burlesque. This one woman's striptease act was so bad."

"Why?"

"Well...she kind of forgot to take off her clothes."

***
Last night riding the subway home, I was definitely in the Subway-Car-of-Forgotten-Toys. The woman sitting next to me was mumbling to herself in drunken Spanish and was rocking back and forth violently while holding a tote bag covered in leaping dachshunds. I thought maybe she was having a seizure. I made the mistake of making eye contact...and I got the craziest, shit-eating grin from her in exchange. She winked at me and purred "Que rico." I immediately looked away and hoped the leaping-dachshunds-bag in her lap wasn't shielding a vibrator.

To kick things up a notch, an elderly man and woman sat down across the car. The man pulled his eyeglasses out of his pocket. One of the arms of his glasses unhinged and fell to the ground. The woman lept up and got down on all fours, trying to find the teeny tiny screw that clearly went AWOL. The man yelped: "I LOST THE SCREW, DAMMIT!" and slumped into a pout.

Of course, my new best friend Que Rico had been waiting for this bout of excitement. She also got down on all fours, still clutching the dachshund bag, and helped the woman attempt to find the missing screw.

"Those little screws...they are soo teeny, no?"

"We'll never find it! What will we do!"

"I don't know, honey. You gotta git one of those kits with the other little screws and put another little screw on it."

The man sat, still pouting, while his lady friend and Que Rico went to work. They eventually gave up on the search, but remained on all fours for a moment.

"Oh, I just love your bag."

"Is cute, no?"

"Yes, where did you get it."

"Is mine, ok."

I got off the train before Que Rico got fully loca.

Tuesday, May 04, 2010

40 (Or, A Reprint)


This is from four years ago...I updated the dates, but the rest, despite a new President, is still accurate.

On this day forty years ago, 4 students were murdered by National Guardsmen during a student demonstration at Kent State University protesting the U.S. invasion of Cambodia. Another 9 students were wounded. A total of 67 rounds of ammunition were fired off into a crowd of students.

Of the four students killed, only one was part of the protest, which was mostly non-violent.

Nixon thought of the government santioned violence at Kent State as a potential example - he was looking to quiet the youth resistance movement led partly by the Students for a Democratic Society (SDS). Members of the SDS, disheartened by both the murder of Black Panther leader Fred Hampton and the perceived inefficacy of non-violent protest, later formed the leftist terrorist group Weatherman (later known as the Weather Underground Organization).

I grew up in Kent, Ohio. My parents were both students at Kent State at the time of the killings. My mother was a classmate of Sandra Scheuer, who was killed by a stray bullet on May 4, 1970 when walking on her way to class.

This day every year, I take time to reflect on this event. It was odd to grow up in such a small town that had the ghosts of such symbolic violence. On this day forty years ago, our government was desperate (in the form of the sweaty, paranoid Nixon) to control its youth and to quiet all dissent.

Today, we live in times of great violence, but dissent is on the back burner. Our economy, our media, our hyper referenced and meta lifestyles keep us sated.

On that note, required viewing today: Network and The Weather Underground.

Peace.

Continental Shit Walk (Or, Details)



Monday, May 03, 2010

Masculint Stories (Or, Privacy Please)

"Yeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeaaaaaaaaaaah. Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh. Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuckkkkkkk. Yeahhhhhhhhhhhhhhh. Feel it. Come on. Yeaaaaaaaaaaaaah. Fuccccccccccccccccccccccck. Yeaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah. Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh. Grrrrrrrrrrrr. Come on almost there. Almost there. Almost there. Yeaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah. Feel it. Yeaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah. Come on. Come on. Come on. Yeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah."

Was I entertaining a gentleman caller recently?

Uh, no.

That extended sweaty gurgle was expelled next to me on a cardio machine at the gym on Friday. I was minding my own business, sweating and stinking up myself, while the straight guy on the machine next to me belched all that unnecessarily erotic talk inches from my ear. Even though I shot him some passive aggressive, come-on-really? looks, he kept heaving and groaning until he finally hit the STOP button and got off.

Sorry. Pun semi-intended.

Anyway, I felt cheap. Cheaper than usual.

He could have at least asked me for my number or slid me a fifty dollar bill.

Another ode to masculintity...

Also on Friday, I witnessed this exchange between two mini-gays in front of a neighborhood bar that needs not be named. They were tugging a Louis Vuitton duffel purse back and forth like it was an Olympic event.

MINI 1: Let go of my bag, bitch!

MINI 2: Don't storm off again.

MINI 1: Leave me be bitch!

MINI 2: Calm down.

MINI 1: Just let me go - and LET GO OF MY BAG! I hate you, I hate you, I HATE YOU!

MINI 2: Come on.

MINI 1: This is always how it end up, you not letting me LEAVE YOUR SORRY ASS!

I didn't stay for the rest of the exchange. I hope the bag's OK.

Sunday, May 02, 2010

She's My Wife (Or, Pageant Talk)



If only SNL were always this good...

Below...Pageant Talk's older sister: