"Do you suppose they ever considered calling Boys Town the Fruit Loop?" ~the illustrious Casey Newton, via e-mail

"Always wear sunscreen"
Cleo (to Elisa via email): You know how I am. I like risk. I like the thrill of the new. For what it's worth, I say do it. You have to jump and risk the fall sometime.
Patrick (in response): This sounds like an Onion column waiting to happen: "Ask a corporate player"

I'm on it. :-)

a moment of philosphical reflection on the transforming of life into anecdotes, courtesy of John Guare ("Six Degrees of Separation")

"He did more for us in a few hours than our children ever did. He wanted to be your child. Don't let that go. He sat out in the park and said 'that man is my father.' He's in trouble and we don't know how to help him...And we turn him into an anecdote to dine out on. Or dine in on. But it was an experience. How do we fit what happened to us into life without turning it into an anecdote with no teeth and a punch line you'll mouth over and over for years to come? 'Tell the story about the imposter who came into our lives--' 'That reminds me of the time this boy--." And we become human juke bokes that keep spilling out these anecdotes. But it was an experience. How do we keep the experience?...I am a collage of unaccounted-for brush strokes. I am all random. How much of your life can you account for?"

To the jerk who called my cell phone repeatedly last night
I'm sure you're not nearly as tactless and absentminded as you sounded on voicemail. You just wanted to know where Jeff's BBQ was going to be--you needed directions. But if you actually stopped chugging your bongwater and listened, you would've realized (from my surprisingly effeminate voice) that I'm not Jeff. I don't even really know anybody named Jeff. And I'm sure as hell not telling you where the party's at. I understand miscommunication--you called the wrong number. No problem. But you left a message at the wrong number not once, not twice, but three times, the last call at 1:45 a.m. disturbing what I can assure you was a moment of intensity.

So, bongwater BBQ man, I hope you found the party. You pooped all over mine.

Fuck!

I know it's been posted on about a thousand other sites, but this legal brief is one of the funniest things I've read in a while.

Now That's Old

See the Bob Hope obit in the New York Times. See note about how Bob outlasted the man who wrote his obituary by three years. Marvel.

(stolen from Weigel)

Don't try this at home

Try it in the store!!
Man tried on condoms in shop

On Friendster Cruising

Joel: if I was in to casual sex, I'd be all excited
Sarah: casual sex
Sarah: that's more than casual
Sarah: it's like...
Sarah: stranger
Joel: less that casual
Joel: it's aquaintance sex
Sarah: barely
Joel: hi, I'm Joel--there's the bed
Sarah: haha
Sarah: more like
Sarah: "hi, i'm GIJoel from the internet"
Sarah: "there's the bed"

Another American institution down the tubes...

Really exciting news afoot. New big project, but not work related. More to come.

Cloud 9
This is precisely the kind of thing I shouldn't be reading when I'm in the "hanging out" stage.

Further Friendster Fun

Best line of the article: "I soldiered on like a pimp amassing an army of ho's."

Correction Of The Day

From Best-Of-Craigslist.

*shivers* now i love Harry Potter as much as the next guy, but i'm not sure about this

Quote Backlog

"Joel, if you don't come to my party, I'll cry... Victor's not going to be there either... Who will touch my butt?" ~Cleo

"Don't touch me like you know me!" ~some kid at Six Flags

Joel: irritated after driving back from Six Flags I hate people
Cleo: Aw Joel, you don't hate me to you?
Joel: You're not people, you're Cleo.

Joel wiggles his rear end at Cleo
Cleo: Does your booty ever sleep?

Joel and Cleo are discussing Joel going to Alex's game night, and what games will be played
Joel: Give Joel a BJ?
Cleo: do they sell that at toys R us?
Joel: yeah, but a different Toys R Us
Cleo: I don't like that game.
Joel: I DO!
Joel: I don't want you to like that game
Cleo: It has a funny smell
Joel: I don't want you to play
Cleo: The pieces don't work properly.
Joel: you're not a good sport
Joel: yeah, my version is missing all but three pieces
Cleo: It's a dud. I had to give it to [unnamed person in Joel's past].
Cleo: He had fun banging the pieces together, laughing in that mentally disabled way.

Today's the Day to...
Leave work early. Go home and curl up in bed. Sleep forever. Wake up. Sleep forever again. Then maybe, just maybe, all your fatigue will disappear.

'nuf said

Comcast...and the meaning of Truth
So, I just got off the phone with Comcast. I was calling to get them to credit my bill for the days of "service interruption" I experienced this past month. I got connected to Robert who's first comment after asking me the name on my account was "Oh, as I recall, Adlerian psychology was very influential on the development of the field." "Yeah, I responded. No relation to me though." Then he asked me what I do, and I confessed that I am a graduate student in Clinical Psychology. I was then plunged into a fascinating twenty-minute conversation with Robert on the nature of Truth, the structure of the mental health care system, the pet conspiracy theories of the Comcast workers on how the computer industry and the pharmaceutical industries are secretly creating passive-aggressive people who work well with computers but are chronically stressed out and anxious, thus necessitating psychotropic drugs, and how psychotherapy actually works. Probably the most thought-provoking 1-800 call I've ever made.

We're Hip, We're Cool
From today's Slate: Friendster--How to win friends and invent people

For The Males of the Species

Good news: Masturbating frequently, particularly in your 20s, has been shown to reduce your risk of prostate cancer later in life.

Keep it up....as it were.

Arr!

Avast ye scurvy dogs, Johnny Depp shall return for his vengeance!

I'm sorry for the number of posts w/o real commentary, but this is damn funny. Live and learn happens to me everyday.

quote/unquote
Look motherfucker, you don't need a Humvee.
Not at all.
Not even the pretty yellow one.

You're a dentist, not the right leg of Voltron.
Courtesy Dong Resin's Joint

For The Boys

In case you were pondering having sex in your friendly local forest preserve, you might wanna watch out for this idiot.

Noted: "Police also found less than 30 grams of marijuana in his DEA vehicle, but Baffield claimed it was evidence acquired six to eight months earlier that he had forgotten about."

Dumbass.

Stepping Out
Yesterday evening, Jon and I attended a talk and book signing by Candace Bushnell, author of the book that spawned the TV series Sex and the City and the original New York Observer column of the same name. Everything she does exudes New York, and she really is every bit as fun and funny as her alter-ego Carrie. She just finished a new book, Trading Up, which takes a more cynical look at the Cosmos & Blahniks jet set. (I just started reading my autographed copy--it's not bad.)

Right before Candace came out, the host asked for the audience to switch off their cell phones. "Oh," exclaimed a woman seated near Jon. "What if the man of my dreams calls?!"

After reading an excerpt of the book and speaking briefly, she asked for questions from the audience. ("Why don't you ask her, 'So, how's that doin' it working out for ya?'" --Coop) I, alas, didn't ask anything; most people wondered how many pairs of shoes Candace owns (about 100), who are her favorite designers (too numerous to list), and how her husband Charles is doing (just fine, thank you, despite not having seen him for a week).

Then we stood in line to have my book signed. The woman who was afraid Prince Charming would come a-ringing in her absence asked if I could take a picture of her with Candace. I obliged, but the host whisked the camera out of my hands to take the photo himself. A man, who we chatted with sporadically during the talk, tried to cheer me up. "Oh well, there goes your shot at breaking into the world of fashion photography." I shook my head. "Damn! Now my work will never appear in Vogue!"

Response to "Dave's Rules of Bulimia"
As the future-Clinical Psychologist-Ph.D. of this Blog, I felt I had to respond. Yes, Cleo, Bulimia does rot your teeth. It also leads to electrolyte imbalances which then cause: heart arythmia, renal failure, enlarged salivary glands, loss of taste receptors, disregulation of the satiety system, damage to the cardiac muscles, esophogeal ulcers, intestinal problems, permanent colon damage, and an increased risk of suicide. In addition, it doesn't even work - vomiting can at maximum eliminate 50% of the caloric intake, laxatives do virtually nothing in terms of calories, and even excessive exercise as a purging technique only gets rid of about 50% of what you ate. It tends to produce chubby cheeks (as a result of the enlarged salivary glands) and a fine, downy hair to grow on the face. It is tough to beat, but cognitive-behavioral (and some dielectical-behavioral) therapies do work.
No laughing matter.

Dave's Rules of Bulimia
So my coworker Dave and I are discussing Demi Moore's appearance in Charlie's Angel's 2 when the following unfolds.
Dave [pantomining vomiting]: She's definitely. She knows how to stay thin. She has to--she's dating that young guy.
Me: Really? Doesn't that rot your teeth?
Dave: No, not necessarily. There are a few rules. Let's see... Brush your teeth afterward... Drink plenty of water... Don't eat fruit... Chew sugar-free gum... [looks sheepish] Oh, um, I never tried it--I knew some people who did.
Me: Uh huh.

"My hovercraft is full of eels."
For all you old school CRCers out there, I give you.... NathaNet!

read this only if you want to get angry!

Yo yo yo, better wrap that thang

Just in case condoms weren't ghetto enough for you: Hip-hop condoms to hit stores

Everything Explained

What you get when you type "weapons of mass destruction" into Google and hit I'm Feeling Lucky.

OK, this is an oldie but goodie. I was reminded of this while using Friendster today--apparently, you can now befriend a pair of Manties online. Or, if you prefer, you can visit the club.

And now, your moment of Zen

Courtesy Queer Eye for the Straight Guy

Round Of Applause

For Adam Williams, who had one of the lead stories in the St. Louis Post-Dispatch today, reporting on the crazy fuckers in Missouri who won $126 million from Powerball.

Best quote, from the male of the species: "I may get a new gun, but after we get a new refrigerator."

too bad this is going to run at the same time as Real World :-P it looks great, in that hilariously-stupid sort of way!

QUEER EYE FOR THE STRAIGHT GUY

So we're at Bar Louie the other night (shocking, right?), and Cleo proceeds to order a "Honeydew" which is flourescent green and comes with a cherry. She asked our somewhat cute but somewhat short waiter if he recommended it, and he made some remark insinuating that it was a pussy drink and that he did not drink pussy drinks. At this point, and after several looks and comments from Cleo, I decided to not order the Cosmo I had planned, and instead went with a Goose Island.

Now, Cleo flirted incessantly with the waiter the entire evening (shocking, right?). As the evening progressed, Cleo said something sassy to him, and he got this sheepish look on his face, so to make him feel better, I handed him a picture of Cleo standing next to a giant sign reading "LUBRICATION", which I just happened to have handy. Cleo was not happy about this.

When I finally finished my Goose Island, I felt comfortable enough in my masculinity and sexuality to order my Cosmo. Cleo, trying to embarass me, made a comment and the following dialog played out:

Cleo: What do you think of him after he ordered that drink?
Waiter: Well he ordered a Goose Island before, so I'd say he's rugged, yet with a sensitive side.

And yes, Cleo left her phone number with the check.

OK, sorry it's been so quiet lately. Lots happening, and my recent obsession with Friendster ain't friggin' helping matters. (Add me!) Anyway, another weekend is upon us. More clubbing. More sunshine. More alcohol and balls and bats and men. Woo woo.

Political Unheaval, Social Disaffection, and Bad Clothing
I swear to God this is the last you'll hear from me for awhile.

Call it cute or ironic or scary or fun, this first decade of the new millenium is the '80s. Lately, everywhere I turn there's a cultural reference that fingers a previous time. I've even seen girls walking around in leg warmers for purely un-athletic reasons. In the name of healthy analysis on company time, let's run down the list... Is the U.S. stepping up miltary efforts (either implicitly or explicitly) in foreign lands? Check. Are we economically/socially/politically challenged? Check. (Granted, our culture has always been plagued by these problems. Now there's just a weird mirror-on-mirror effect.) Corporate scandal? Check. Increased polarization of groups along socioeconomic and socioeducational lines? Check. Is coke and other nose-friendly street drugs receiving greater attention? Check.

I even see it in myself. General apathy toward the problems of the day? Check. Unexplained affinity for the works of Bret Easton Ellis and Jay McInerney? Check and check. Unexplained affinity for men who resemble characters in the works of Bret Easton Eliis and Jay McInerney? Check. Disproportionate personal emphasis on financial, professional, and material gain? Check, check, check. A growing fascination for the "corruption of youthful idealism by the cold reality of affluence"? Check. Increased tolerance for day-glo colors? A horrific, resounding, check.

It doesn't seem unreasonable that That '80s Show would crash and burn. How could anyone find humor in something that we're so closely linked?

RumorNet is probably violating umpteen privacy laws. However, I do find Courtni's antics impressive for an 11-year old.

Here's your health ed of the day. Beware of the links therein--I made the mistake of following them while I was eating lunch. Damn you links! You suck!

Ew.

Hope nobody's eaten at the McDonald's at the Field Museum lately.

Shocking Celebrity News!

Oops, they totally did it, again and again and again.

Remember Coop's post from earlier this week? The one about the Web site that sells something? Right. For shits and giggles, I looked over the site and rang them up.

I have no idea what the company calls itself. The site says The Landing, but the dude I spoke to referred to his boutique as The Studio. They sell customized vintage t-shirts, which is just a fancy-shmancy way of saying they buy tees (like the old school D.A.R.E. and Special Olympics numbers) from places like Ragstock and the Salvation Army and press phrases like "I fucked Paul McCarthy" or "I fuck for Gucci" onto them. Then they take pictures of them, post said pictures on a Web site, get mad press coverage, and sell them for a cool $80-$150 a pop. (I called The Studio because the site doesn't publish prices.) Most of the tees are "one-of-a-kind," but the dude I spoke to said they could create something for me if I find something I like that's not in my size. Nice.

Can you tell I'm in awe?

Jon, this one's for you
Since he seems to be a bit obsessed with his boys, Jon may be interested to learn that his commandos don't like abstinence any more than he does. Courtesy of Fark

while the entire Post article is worth reading, you simply can't miss the bottom two sections: Berlin Blunder and Correction of the Week.

Reflections on the Holiday Weekend
-Fireworks over Grant Park were cool. But the real fun was purchasing "contraband" beer from some guy from his cooler backpack, and chugging it while commenting on the attire of your fellow American passersby.
-Legally Blonde 2 didn't meet my expectations. It's worth mentioning that these expectations were quite low... Almost as low as my expectations for From Justion to Kelly.
-Swimsuit shopping is traumatizing. I didn't realize that my skin could dimple and pucker in so many unattractive ways. This reaffirmed my dedication to the Lincoln Park Athletic Club.
-Even though I'm of medium complexion, I do burn. Oh yes, I do burn.
-The Taste of Chicago was fun, the food was good, and playing Bingo with preschoolers (and throwing a tantrum when I didn't win) was fabulous.
-I hadn't played mini golf in nearly a year until Saturday evening. I surprised myself by not scoring all that badly or getting ejected from the course. (Creative accounting reflected.)
-I feel like I've become a gay man; I looked around on Friday and realized that the majority of people I hung out with are gay men. This realization was only amplified while clubbing in Boystown that night. I've also determined that I'm uncomfortable with the "fag hag" moniker. Something's gotta change...

Scene: Hydrate

Joel: That guy [guy Cleo had pointed out and was trying to get Joel to talk to] has the shoes I almost bought.
Cleo: Eddy has those shoes.
Joel: I'm not surprised.
Cleo: It's gay starter wear.

So Ungrateful
Conci and I had lunch this afternoon at Mystic Celt, a bar/grill on Southport in the Lakeview 'hood. The bus boy came around to clear our plates, complaining all the while that he hasn't had a moment's rest all day and that he's supposed to work through closing.

"You poor thing," I say with empathy.

"Oh, it's no big deal," he continues. "Playboy is having a Playmate party here tonight."

Conci and I look at each other. "You poor thing," I say.

Eeeeeew

If anyone here ever makes their bridesmaids wear anything resembling these, I'm personally going to commit you to a mental institution.

Slit regulations at Liberty University
Thanks to Fark and bit of clicking, we bring you the double entrendric highlight of the Liberty University modesty slideshow.

So a guy Conci met in a bar called her 11 times in a three-hour period. So the guy I was kinda hanging out with has a girlfriend who he thinks should chaperone our outings. These are the perils of meeting people outside of college.

"I fucked Andre the Giant"
Buy the shirt. Or the design. Or something. I can't figure out what they actually sell. Outta my league, whatever it is.

Commenting in chronological order on everything posted since I went on vacation

Walla Walla should run for Congress. I am the blue line. I appreciate Cleo's citation. Walmart is like an amusement park, only without the rides and funnel cake.

Semen-related health appears to have finally brought back together the long-estranged U.S. Patent Office and Liz H. W. C. Phair.

I am glad Lil' Kim has found restraint for her undulations. I am more glad that Cleo still disturbs wait staff. And I am thrilled her workspace is booty-lint-free. A serious question: How much gay clientele does Hooters and Hooters Air have?

I was wearing shorts at the beach last week. I was disappointed to see major news outlets not featuring the obvious headline in their court coverage: "Sodomy Nights Alright."

People are funny about work. Some folks hate Strom's. Some like Ann's. Some like Strom's. Some hate glands'.