Category Archives: Miscellaneous Evil

Things I Could Give a Crap Less About That Make People Go Apeshit

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Did you know there’s a football game this weekend?

The other day, when I pulled up my head and asked, “Hey, just who is in the Super Bowl anyway?” I got nothing but dead silence from my co-workers. Not from shock that I didn’t know. It’s just that none of them give a shit about the Super Bowl either.

I really dislike football. Period. Always have. I think it is excruciatingly boring to watch. And I can’t follow the rules for shit, nor do I care to learn. Any sport that was hands off for the chicks in high school was dead to me. I couldn’t tell you the difference between a first or second down. Or what “off sides” means. Or why roided up giants tend to be the most violent dudes on campus. The excitement/slash/support-the-team mentality that was forced upon us in high school marching band–especially those 7 a.m. in the fucking freezing cold rehearsals–didn’t help either.

I mean, it is Green Bay. I suppose there's nothing else to do there.

After a drunk kid threw up next to us at the very beginning of a Big Ten game when my parents were visiting, and we had to sit over that vile pile of puke in the stands, I vowed never to attend another football event again.

However, that “Friday Night Lights” program was pretty fucking good. I think it had something to do with that hot blonde kid who plays action heroes now.

And, due to some stupid anti-gay remarks from the 49ers Chris Culliver, may I just say, dude, you are playing for the fucking San Francisco 49ers. Get with the program! Oh, and if someone has to win this thing, go Ravens.

Here are a few other socially accepted and celebrated things I can’t fucking stand:

1. Holidays. Nothing gets me more irritated than forced emotion and socializing. And the holidays are primed and ripe to make you feel nothing less than an inferior, socially inept human being who has failed your parents and/or children. Now that the consumerist nightmare called Christmas is over, Hallmark, Zales and the Cheesecake Factory are chomping at the bits to sink their fangs into you for the worst one yet–Valentine’s Day. That’s right, fellas, get those orders into 1-800 Flowers now lest you be shut off from the vag until Easter.

The only holidays that are acceptable are the ones that allow for spending time outdoors and eating things with your hands–Memorial Day, Fourth of July, Labor Day and so forth–with no forced gift-giving or spending time with the in-laws. You don’t need to suffer through church, or a pageant about Baby Jeebus, or make any trips to Target and get trapped in the parking garage for an hour. And that is just winning, Charlie Sheen style.

2. Live Concerts. Holy, shit, did you know Rihanna is coming to town? No, no I didn’t. Nor am I going to spend over $100 to buy her tickets that support her dumbass lifestyle. Are you a plus-40-year-old human being who gets excited when the Stones announce another tour, and pour your muffin top into your hot pants and too-tight T-shirt you bought during the “Bridges to Babylon” tour, just to get too drunk in the pre-concert tailgating party only to be puking your guts out during “Tumbling Dice”? Did you know that live, mega-concerts that cost more than $100 are the ultimate fleecing of the music fan? Now, you know.

Did you know Beyonce is in the Super Bowl? Did you know that soda and major athletic sponsors, like Coke and Pepsi, contribute to the obesity epidemic and childhood diabetes?

3. Chocolate. We get it. Chocolate’s great. It’s fucking tasty as hell. But it’s not on par with a) winning the Powerball, b) sex with a vampire or c) sitting outside and eating various things with your hands in the sun. I feel about the same way about chocolate commercials as I do about flavored vodka–and we all know how I feel about that.

4. Cheap alcohol. If you are out of college, and/or over the age of 25, the thrill of cheap alcohol–or getting a deal on a bucket of Pabst–should not be a big deal for you. You are an adult. Cheap booze doesn’t equal good booze–and probably nothing you should be putting in your body if you value your stomach lining or your rectum. The same goes for spilling a beverage or leaving a half-drunk glass on the table. It is not a big deal. As a tax-paying adult, one of the few things you are entitled to is not slamming a beverage before you leave, or having some 43-year-old jackass yell “party foul” at you.

5. In fact, getting free anything. I used to review movies–and it was awesome. The best screenings were the private press ones, where only a handful of you sat in an empty theater and got to enjoy a film in silence. The worst? When they made you attend an “open screening” that some KISS radio station gave out free promotional tickets to. Those cattle calls made my skin fucking crawl. If you are the kind of person who obsesses over getting ultimately worthless, free, tacky shit, you must stop it. Free doesn’t equate with something of value. And it certainly isn’t worth getting into a fistfight over and spilling your bucket of popcorn at a free screening of “American Pie: The Ultimate Reunion Reunion 2020.”

I'm quite certain that this entire franchise exists to allow those involved to pay their mortgages.

 

 

 

Aquasizing Nation!

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I’ve practically done it all at the gym–kickboxing, boot camp, I’ve even had the misfortune of trying some hip-hop dancing once at a New York Sports Club in Brooklyn. And no, I haven’t had sex in the sauna. That’s gross, people.

But tonight, I did something I never, ever thought I would ever do. I aquasized.

There I was, 20 minutes to 6 p.m., taking advantage of a practically empty pool. The gym floor was in the throngs of post-work Tuesday night madness–empty-eyed shells of human beings queuing up for 30 minutes on the Elliptical and “Anderson Cooper 360.” As for me, I felt so smart for taking advantage of the pool. So clever indeed. About 10 minutes into my laps, when old ladies in pairs starting randomly dropping into my lane, I could smell something was up. And that something was aquasizing, fuck yeah.

If you’ve ever wanted to plop yourself into a casting call for “Cocoon”–or feel like the youngest, thinnest, hottest thing in the room–then this is the exercise for you.

In between listening to complaints about their knee surgery that didn’t take and how cold the pool is (it was 84 degrees, people) we finally got down to business. And I always wondered what the business of aquasizing is all about.

So, it’s this: A bunch of strength building, balance and resistance exercises–basically like yoga in the water, which is why, I guess, my shitty gym co-opted the hippie yoga teacher from the yoga hour before to teach our class. And walking back and forth from one end of the pool to the other. And I finally figured out what those noodles are for. After an hour of sloshing around, I realized, it’s no lap-swimming cardio workout, but my triceps were burning.

I also realized that aquasizing is a lot like “Coffee Talk” or a ladies’ social hour. Hell, there were two women in the back who didn’t do anything but half-ass lift a leg here and there and gossip. And in a brief moment, I thought, this isn’t half bad. Exercise that doesn’t suck.

Aquasizing, Steve Gutternberg optional.

Now, don’t be thinking that you can bust out aquasize twice a week and get into shape. This ain’t no Cross Fit. But if you’re looking for a different kind of strength-building to complement your weights-and-cardio routine, and for some KILLER people-watching and eavesdropping when you’re done with the date-rapists-in-training and the sorority girls on the gym floor, then aquasizing just might be for you–like sampling old without actually being old. And if old is splashing around a pool for an hour and gossiping, then it ain’t looking half bad.

I will not, however, nor will I ever, Zumba.

Hehe. Old people without their shirts on. And Wilford Brimley!

 

 

2012: It’s the Final Countdown: What would a Cosmo Girl do? (or day five)

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Back in the day, someone gave me some very bad sex advice.

“What you got to do is get yourself a ‘Cosmo,’ ” said my friend Cheeseman (and yes, Cheeseman is his real name). “And, you know, pick up some sex tips.”

Imagine that being chirped at you in a very white male Republican voice.

“Cheeseman,” I said. “I’m not 12. I know how to give a blow job.”

The other day, I picked up a stack of magazines from my building’s gym. (hey, I know what you’re thinking; but I put my old magazines there when I’m done with them and return these–it’s like a lending library). And for kicks, I thought I’d pick up the Nov. 2012 issue of ‘Cosmopolitan’ magazine.

A few minutes with ‘Cosmo’ reminded me of why I despised it a decade ago. It’s Real. Bad. Writing. Sex lists by interns fresh out of Oberlin and Vasser, who’ve had awkward sex twice with their junior-year prom date and a slightly uncomfortable shower experience with the resident lesbian on their dorm floor in college. Sex writing in Cosmo consists of ideas of what Awesome Sex Must Be Like as imagined by those who have no idea what real sex is like, i.e. my kindergarten self, who had a crush on Luke Skywalker and imagined that having sex with him involved sitting across from one another and peeing into one another’s crotches. And EL James.

And now, verbatim, advice from ‘Cosmo,’ that will probably not get you through the coming Mayan apocalypse, but might very well entertain you on your smartphone while you’re stuck in traffic escaping a fiery hellball. (for added fun, imagine that this advice is being read to you by a very buzzed Kathie Lee on the fourth hour of the ‘Today’ show.)

1. “Lie on your back with your head hanging off the bed, and slid his penis into your mouth. It’s a good way to reduce your gag reflex.” (Ed note: Also, good way to choke to death.)

2. “Are there any oral moves that my husband can try that will make him feel more like my vibrator? …ask him to try tongue flutters…he can also wrap his lips around his teeth, put your clitoris between them, and use a biting motion.” (Biting and clitoris, two things that will never be friends.)

3. “When I arrived at the cabin, I noticed Chris right away. With deep brown eyes, a friendly smile, and quarterback arms.”(QB arms? What’s next? Tight-end anal?)

4. “Speaking fluent 20something is hella awesome. Overuse slang like amazeballs while you can still get away with it.” (Or until someone like me punches you in the face.)

5. “Pull up a pic of Ryan Lochte’s bod on your phone…” (We can’t masturbate to stupid, Cosmo. Give us something to work with here.)

6. ‘Get Tipsy in the Tub: Two magic words that’ll get your guy on board with spa night: booze and nakedness…Pour a quarter bottle of red into a warm bath and hop in.’ (That better be two-buck chuck you’re tossing in.)

7. ‘This weekend head out in your favorite leather jacket, no shirt required. The wicked fabric on your bare skin will make you feel extra naughty.’ (Me so naughty, tee-hee!)

8. ‘Cosmo is to sex positions what Apple is to the iPhone.’ (Steve Jobs, blow jobs...)

9. ‘Laze between the sheets with your man and a sweet treat this weekend. The perfect spoon-feedable, romantic dish? Rich chocolate mousse.’ (Really, now, who does this?)

10. ‘Diners, Drive-Ins, and Dives is a freak-of-nature show–it makes our mouth water, and it gets men to actually watch the Food Network with us. This weekend, take him to lunch at a Guy Fieri-approved locale.’ (Dear ‘Cosmo,’ The New York Times would like to take you out to dinner, then a little backdoor action. And no, they’re not going to take you to brunch or introduce you to their friends the next day. Or call you back. Ever.)

 

2012: It’s the Final Countdown. Day four.

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The world can be an awful place. The world can also be an incredibly fun, amazing place. Can you grasp these two concepts at the same time unlike most human beings who struggle to hold two opposing thoughts at once? Good, let’s go.

Sign Four the World Will End Dec. 21, 2012 (sometime in the nearish future):

Because a chunk of ice bigger than the United States melted off the North Pole this year.

Sign Four the World Will Not End Dec. 21, 2012:

Because a kid who grew up in the projects can do this.

Happy b-day, Jay-Z!

Let’s put doomsday on hold for this Holiday Gift Guide!

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As you may know, the planet may or may not come to a crushing end on Dec. 21. However, lest you not plan for Dec. 25, well you could look like a real asshat around the old yuletide tree. Or you end up scrambling the weekend before, looking for cut-rate gifts from drugstores to make up for life going on. As someone who got stuck in the Target parking ramp for 45 minutes a few weeks back, attempting to do some non-holiday shopping, I do not want this to happen to you.

So, let’s take a walk through this gift guide, shall we? The bad news is that if Dec. 21 is truly it, well, then you will probably die in a fiery heap of tacky-ass shit, that will slowly melt and conform to your body, smothering and burning you to death, much like this awesome scene from ‘Game of Thrones.’ If the world doesn’t end? You’ve got enough tacky-ass shit on hand for every white elephant grab bag and annoying family get-together to get you through the coming dark days of forced socialization with people you can barely stand.

1. First up, Uggs. At times, I will be in a shoe section somewhere, perusing the goods, and will see something somewhat cute, then pick them up and see that they’re part of Jessica Simpson or Carlos Santana’s lines. No.

I feel the same about Uggs–an incredibly gross line that started with incredibly gross fake, fluffy boots that would be absolutely worthless in a real cold climate. I got a flyer from Uggs/Zappos in the mail just last week, featuring some smarmy looking toddlers sporting sparkly $150-$170 Uggs. So, if you have A) a crapload of disposable income and B) really want to make someone look stupid, get them these:

Thanks to Lorien for posting these beauts to FB last week.

2. Have someone on your list who shops from the TV? May I introduce you to HSN’s Antthony Designs Originals, lovely, stretchy knitwear sold in sets, and for two easy payments.

One of Antthony's more couture looks can be yours for $580.

3. How about some flavored vodka?

4. This is the ugliest fucking perfume bottle I have ever seen.

5. I don’t think they make these anymore, but you can make your own by sewing together a bunch of body sponges with twine.

6. A $50 Gold Buffalo Tribute Proof coin for only $9.95.

7. Coffee that’s been through a cat’s ass.

8. If you have a streetwalker on your list, may I suggest a subscription to Shoe Dazzle? (yes, shoes again…)

9. Who couldn’t use some Preparation H?

10. And while we’re back there, how about a gift certificate for some anal bleaching?

Or you can give some DIY home kits. Whatever this December holds in store, your friends will meet it head-on with the knowledge that their buttholes are squeaky clean and camera-ready.

Happy holidays!

2012: It’s the Final Countdown. Day three.

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Sign Three the World Will End Dec. 21, 2012:

This is the most-watched YouTube video. Ever.

What is this shit?

Sign Three the World Will Not End Dec. 21, 2012:

When folks ask me if I miss NYC, I must admit, I do miss the random crazy a bit from time to time. You know, nothing life-threatening, but the crazy.

However, New Yorkers, fueled by overpriced real estate, a shitty job market, and people who TRY TO GET ON THE SUBWAY WHEN PEOPLE ARE STILL GETTING OFF, have a tendency to snap. And when they do, they do it big time. I especially loved hearing the spike in subway crime reports during the hellstormish, it’s-fucking-buttcrack-hot July and August, when folks have snapped so badly that assaults skyrocket. I especially loved the one July when not one, but multiple people in the subway attempted to assault others with variations of power tools. Good times, then.

That being said, the NYPD reported today that on Monday “no one was shot, stabbed or slashed,” according to this nifty article from the Wall St. Journal. That’s right, for one day everyone in NYC was somewhat human to one another. Of course, the fact that it was the day after a long holiday weekend — many annoying commuters were likely still on vacation or glued to their screens for Cyber Monday — probably kept some annoying asses off NYC transit. However, this is a monumental feat, one that even the police spokesman, Paul Browne, said that “he couldn’t remember the last time the city experienced 24 hours with no reported gun or knife violence.”

The murder rate in NYC is headed for an all-time low, too. 366 compared to 472 in 2011. Considering that my current hometown of Seattle — the land of passive-aggressive, over-educated white people — is barely clocking in at 22 projected murders this year, well, NYC you still look somewhat barbaric to people who fucking thank the busdriver EACH AND EVERY TIME they exit the bus, whether there are 20 other people doing it or not.

And so, New York, I have decided to become the Larry David of bus-exiting. Enough. Enough with all the “thank you’s” for common, stupid things. And when I refuse to thank the busdriver after the 12 people exiting before me do, I’ll think of you, NYC, and the big asshole you’ve helped me become.

Keep it classy, NYC!

 

2012: It’s the Final Countdown! Day two.

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Yesterday, we started our countdown to Armaggedon It! Or just another Friday before Christmas that you can spend in fist-da-cuffs in a Wal-Mart fighting over that filthy porno doll, Elmo, or literally in fistin’ cuffs, which I’m sure exist, but I’m too afraid to google right now. (Lies. I googled it and found a lovely gay porn that featured two dicks snuggling in a butt-cheek sandwich.)

Sign Two the World Will End Dec. 21, 2012:

The proliferation of fucking flavored vodka.

Yes, that’s right. Flavored booze has been advertised by spunky Aussies looking to party, bitches trying to get skinny, and even two old coots. But it seems that the overload of recent fucking flavored vodka ads is at an all-time high. And this is a sign that the world is nearly over, we have no more new ideas except to make vodka fucking fluffed, whipped, creamed and tasting of caramel.

Since we’re all going to die, let’s relive these 30-second shill-jobs for vodka that is all simultaneously competing for the title of World’s Worst Alcohol:

First off, Amber Rose. Isn’t she fucking someone important?

Then there’s this horny broad:

And if you want to puke, just look at this page of Pinnacle flavored vodka tricks.

Why is it that this shit is always, always marketed to chicks, and P. Diddy gets to party in the desert with a bunch of cable actors? Oh, yeah, it’s because HE’S NOT DRINKING FLAVORED VODKA.


As if you needed any more proof that hell is indeed upon us, look no further than this: According to Huff Po, “nearly a quarter of all vodka consumer in 2011 was flavored…And ongoing growth for the vodka category in 2012, with flavored vodka expected to fuel that expansion with another double-digit gain.”

Sign Two the World Will Not End Dec. 21, 2012:

Because I just decided what I want to be for Halloween and wrote it in my 2013 calendar so I won’t forget and be all like, “Oh shit, what am I gonna be this year?” on Oct. 29 and get into fist-da-cuffs over the last slutty J-Lo dress at the costume store. Yeah, past self looking out for future self.

Do... or do not. There is no try.

 

2012: It’s the Final Countdown!

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Enjoy your holiday? Good. If you pay attention to such things as the end of days, you may notice that another important day is looming on our December calendar–Dec. 21, 2012. Or as the Mayan calendars put it, the End of the World. Or a new beginning. Or one of these things.

If you remember, way back in 2009, I started this to live life to the fullest, grab bulls by horns, figure this thing out so I could not only get on with it, but enjoy it a little bit.

Lots of stuff happened. But now, well, damnit, you/we may just have a few more weeks to overconsume plastic consumer durables, enjoy Pier One holiday ads, stuff our faces with our stockpiled Twinkies and cry. Or that madness can roll right into January. Either way, I’ve decided to weigh the pros and cons of signs whether the world will end. And, as the world is a tricky place, I’ve decided to pick signs from each and every (week)day* until the apocalypse. Or not.

Sign One the World Will End Dec. 21, 2012:

R. Kelly finally released the third installment of “Trapped in the Closet” over the holiday weekend on IFC. Missed it? Don’t worry. IFC is a low-budget channel that will continue to play it over and over and over until infinity…or the 21st, if, well, you know. Don’t know what you’re doing with the last three weeks of your life? This should be a high priority on your list.

Sign One the World Will Not End Dec. 21, 2012:

They are making more of Arrested Development.

What signs will God and/or “The Voice” give us tomorrow? Stay tuned to find out.

*Author reserves the right the pick signs each and every (week)day or every other day, or whenever I goddamn feel like it.

Hooray for a return to common sense

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I know, I kid, I joke around, I write lists of stupid things to do to stave off boredom during a natural disaster. As a former New Yorker, watching the devastation of Hurricane Sandy on the region–let alone hearing the stories of my friends and their families suffering through the aftermath–has made me really recognize that, wow, what the important shit in life is.

And one thing this week has brought about is a return to common sense. It saddens me to say this, but a few of the last times we had a return to common sense, i.e. people put aside a lot of their petty shit to work on big-picture items, happened during 9/11 and Hurricane Katrina. Does it really take a disaster of these proportions to start making sense of a lot of bullshit? Maybe so.

In any case, may I write a serious post about a serious salute to a return to sanity. Here goes?

1. New York Mayor Michael Bloomberg endorses Barack Obama for president–largely based on acknowledging and working on programs about climate change. If you’re still one of those idiots out there wearing a windbreaker in fucking January in Iowa and bragging at your local store, “Global warming, my ass!” you are truly a fucking idiot out wandering around. It’s time to acknowledge that we’re heating the pad up, folks. And we need to figure out how to open a few windows. (And thanks to Jen W. for this awesome true story.)

2. Speaking of awesome Bloombergian acts of awesomeness this week, the Bloomberg-owned BusinessWeek today had this story.

It's global warming, stupid. BusinessWeek said that. Not me.

3. I am not a fan of New Jersey Republican Gov. Chris Christie, but damn if he doesn’t embody the New Jersey spirit of getting shit done. And his putting shit aside and being cool with Obama? Class act.

4. FEMA is actually working. It’s actually working! Somewhere, Michael Brown is cringing.

5. And one thing that doesn’t smack of common sense one bit. In fact, this is the anti-common sense. And if you don’t see this as a complete and utter lack of common sense, or compassion, or being able to empathize with people in times of need who don’t have, as Bill Mayer put it during Hurricane Katrina, several cases of Poland Springs bottled water to throw in the back of their Land Rover to make it out of a hurricane zone, this is it: Mitt Romney basically collecting a bunch of worthless shit to make his campaign look better after the hurricane hit the Eastern Seaboard. No, Mitt, we don’t need your used T-shirts and sweatpants and canned fucking Campbell’s soup. These Americans need real help. But thanks for trying.

Vote, kids! And vote right.

11 things I would totally like to do during a hurricane…

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Ok, so I’m no longer on the East Coast, but while I lived there, I definitely harbored huge Escape From New York fantasies, in other words, what to do when the shit hit the fan.

My favorite involved a version of Grand Theft Auto, in which I would punch a soccer mom at a Park Slope stoplight, steal her station wagon, then go bee-bopping through the neighborhoods, sipping whiskey and smoking as I listened to Guns n’ Roses’ ‘Appetite for Destruction,’ only to finally crash into Prospect Park for The End!

I was never going to sit in traffic in the Holland Tunnel, let’s just put it that way.

And so, now I’ve missed three natural disasters since I’ve left NYC: Three! Hurricane Sandy has made me a little nostalgic for all that hardened NYC survival shit. So here goes, 11 things I would totally do during a hurricane:

1. Create an awesome fake Mitt Romney Twitter feed: Oh, somebody already did this! (Thanks for FB post, Ahmad!).

2. Speaking of Mitt Romney, I would probably want to leave my house for a bit and blow off some steam. Since emergency services are down, this is probably a great time to go door-to-door, asking folks if they’re voting for Romney. Yes? Punch them in the face and run.

3. Times of duress that include losing power call for sex and drinking, sure. But what about superstripscrabblesmokeoutsupersexysexdrinkingsandwichmakingbodegalootingselling cigarettesfortwentydollarsapacktothekidsonthecornerhappyfunhurricanetimes?

4. Put on all my sparkly clothes and makeup and re-enact the ‘Real Housewives of New Jersey’ reunion special with myself.

5. Throw away any crap I no longer want out the closest window.

6. Take candy from a baby.

7. Get a canoe.

8. Pray to Jeebus in the canoe. Kidding!

9. Begin my lengthy hate-mail campaign for ‘American Idol’ Season 12, with a special fixation on Mariah Carey.

Doesn't this look like a porno video cover?

10. Finally, time to get that sex tape storyboarded out!

11. Tweet the ‘Today Show,’ suggest places Al Roker can stand.