Check it, Peons: Your CNN Humiliation Compartmentalized

Friday, May 30, 2008


The Sex and The City movie opens today.
I am seriously dreading the hordes of shrieking tourists infiltrating the city, drawn by a love of their favorite show, wearing what they presume is the New York Look (this tends to be whatever black items they have in their closet) arguing over who the "Carrie" of the group is.

They will giggle and sip Cosmos.
They will talk about their love of "cute shoes".
They will take pictures in front of the Carrie Bradshaw stoop.
They will ask for directions to Tao and The Magnolia Bakery.

They will revel in the glory of shuffling down the same streets as "the Sex and the City girls". They will say how amazing New York is. How friendly people are, how they want to move here. They will get a bit drunk and shout out their favorite quotes from the show. They will live life large. They will be "fabulous".

But mostly they will inspire me to sneer and mutter,
"Shut your fuckin' pieholes you flabby shitstains."

Thursday, May 29, 2008


This story baffles me:

TAMPA, Fla. (AP)
A nude maid is accused of really cleaning up at a Florida man's home. The Hillsborough County Sheriff's Office said a 50-year-old man hired the maid from the Internet on Friday to clean his Tampa home.

Authorities said the woman arrived at the home in a one-piece, light colored dress. She took off the dress and cleaned the house for $100-per-hour. Sheriff's office spokeswoman Debbie Carter said the man told deputies he left the maid alone in the bedroom to clean.

When the man's wife came home from vacation, she discovered $40,000 in jewelry missing from their bedroom.

If you're paying a woman $100 bucks an hour to clean in the nude, I'm gonna assume you aren't actually looking for a sparkling clean home. You're not doing the white glove test. You're not sniffing the air for that "pine fresh scent." The point is to sit there and masturbate while she bends over and pretends to dust under the bed.

So why was she cleaning ALONE in the bedroom? You could hire some dull, unattractive, clothed maid to do that for a lot less money. What was this idiot doing while a paid stranger was cleaning the bedroom, alone, in the nude?

And where does a nude maid store $40,000 worth of stolen jewels?
(I know, I know...The obvious answer is "up her twat". But $40,000 worth? Those are some fine tuned Kegel muscles.)

I'd love to see how hubby is spinning this to his wife. Chances are he's shelling out a whole lot more money for a whole lot more jewels.

Wednesday, May 28, 2008


Just woke up and read this:

Andria Baker has pretty much always been present. From the first day of kindergarten through her last day of high school, Baker somehow made it to school for every day of classes, despite colds and sports injuries. Why? If she kept it up, her father promised her a car.
Baker kept up her end of the bargain, willing herself to go to school on those days when she felt under the weather. She notched her 13th year of uninterrupted classroom attendance with her final day at Constantine High School on Friday. At a party Sunday, her father, Tim, presented the young woman with the keys to a new, $17,000 Pontiac G6, complete with a "0 DAYS" personalized license plate.

You know what my reaction to this is?
What a huge waste of teenage opportunities.
And I know I should applaud this purpose-driven young woman. She had her eye on the prize and she seized it.
But frankly, it is unfathomable to me that there wasn't a single day in her 13 years of schooling where she said "fuck Algebra" and went swimming with her friends instead. She never skipped school to participate in a protest march, or make a secret trip to Planned Parenthood. She never took time off for a crazy, impromptu vacation to Mexico, to go sailing, get tipsy on cheap beer or head downtown to shop for ridiculous vintage clothes.

This doesn't sound responsible to me--it just shows a lack of imagination.

And yes...this is why I'm not a trustworthy adult. Never will be.
So before anyone writes in and tells me what an asshole I am--save it, I already know.

Tuesday, May 27, 2008


Today American employees trudge back to work after a relaxing Memorial Day filled with hot dogs, beer and traffic jams. Some of you might pull out your white shoes for the first time in months. Most of you will wince a little as you head back to the florescent glare of your workplaces.

But before you deliver the invites to that pity party, check this out:

Employees counting donations at a popular Hindu shrine in southern India will no longer have to take off their underpants at work after the local human rights commission intervened.

Police and temple authorities imposed the dress code at the Sabarimala hill shrine in Kerala five years ago after thefts were reported from the shrine's strongroom. Employees in the vault, all of whom were men, were made to work topless wearing only a dhoti -- a cotton wrap worn around the waist -- with nothing underneath.

But they found it degrading, and their union complained to the Kerala State Human Rights Commission.

"The employees on duty are made to strip before an officer before leaving the office to ensure that they do not carry anything in their underwear," said Chavara Gopakumar, the union leader. "It is humiliating and an insult to human dignity."

The state's human rights commission agreed.

Authorities at the shrine, which is dedicated to Ayyappa, a south Indian deity, said on Friday they would end the practice and have begun looking into electronic surveillance systems.

Think about it:
Your workplace might suck, but you've never had to fight for your right to wear underpants.*

*NOTE: This assessment does not include porn stars or personal assistants to high profile pervs.

Friday, May 23, 2008


There are a few paintings/pictures that you see over and over again in cheap Italian restaurants and nondescript cafes. They are meant to be benign enough that they will not disturb diners as they masticate their manicotti. They are rarely chosen for their artistic merit. They are often purchased because they:

A. match the booths
B. feature the country of the restaurant's cuisine

But they really piss me off.

The first is by photographer Ruth Orkin. It's called "American Girl in Italy, 1951". Now, the photo is excellent. It depicts a miserable girl walking through the streets of Rome. She is surrounded by clusters of leering men who are making her deeply uncomfortable. But what gets me is how people seem to overlook the point of the photo, and just think it captures the charm of "the old country". They sit there, eating their crappy Italian food, thinking that photo is a quaint view of 1950's Rome. I've even heard one woman say to her husband "Isn't that cute John? We really need to visit Italy one of these days."

Fuck those spaghetti munching idiots.

The second is a colorful painting by John Vettriano called "The Singing Butler". It depicts an obviously wealthy couple dancing in the rain. They are impeccably dressed, and in their own world. The butler and the maid are holding umbrellas, trying to shield the couple. However it seems that the couple is unaffected by the weather. The elements only seem to be battling the underclass. Naturally, the rich couple don't give a shit. This just shows how rich mother fuckers get every stupid whim indulged while the peons just have to suck it up. Brings me back to my CNN VJ days.

Fuck those rich assholes.

Now, while my next target isn't seen in restaurants or cafes, I'm throwing her in there too: anything by Anne Geddes. Fortunately, she has gone out of favor. But back in the late 1990's and early 2000's, you couldn't go anywhere without seeing one of her creepy babies trapped in an unfortunate, often foliage-related scenario. The worst was the one with Celine Dion holding a baby in a pair of pantyhose. Why is this adorable? The poor baby is trapped in a pair of fucking pantyhose. Worse, that pair of pantyhose is being held by Celine Dion. What does that even mean?

Fuck those pantyhose.

And while I'm fairly certain it is an Anne Geddes knock off and not the real deal, there is a kitchen supplies store near me with a huge picture of a fat little baby in a saucepan. The baby looks both horrified and gaseous. (This was my first clue that it was a knock off and not an actual Geddes.)
But the point is:
Reminds me of that old beef industry ad campaign:
"Baby. It's what's for dinner."

Anyone else want to bitch about mass produced art that pisses you off?

Thursday, May 22, 2008


Today I'd like to celebrate an Israeli spitfire who did what I wish I had the courage to do:


Road workers in a small New Zealand town got their wish granted when a woman stripped saying she was fed up with their wolf-whistles.
The Israeli tourist was about to use an ATM in the main street of Kerikeri, in the far north of the country, when the men whistled, the New Zealand Press Association reported.
She calmly stripped off, used the cash machine, before getting dressed and walking away.
The woman told police she didn't take too kindly to the whistling from the men repairing the road.
"She said she had thought 'bugger them, I'll show them what I've got'," Police Sergeant Peter Masters told NZPA.
"She gave the explanation that she had been ... pestered by New Zealand men. She's not an unattractive looking lady," Masters said.
"She was taken back to the police station and spoken to and told that was inappropriate in New Zealand."

This woman is a goddess. I only wish I knew her name.

I'm pretty sure all you female Peons have endured a charming stroll past a construction site as a chorus of male voices shouts out enticing sexual offers/requests, detailed assessments of your physique and even comments on your clothes. Before moving to New York, I had no idea so many construction men were secret fashion mavens.

I have often wondered what would happen if I actually acknowledged these guys for once. If instead of crossing my arms over my chest or walking to the other side of the street, I turned around, threw down my purse and said,

"Yeah. Oh yeah baby. That's the best offer I've had all day. Gimme some of that. Right now! Pull out that great big cock you keep talking about and let's put it to use! C'mon big boy. Right here. I just want to get all up in those hairy armpits of yours. I just want to drink the sweat leaking into your butt crack. Take it all off baby. But you can leave your construction helmet on."

But no--I'd never do that. Which is the very reason these men will continue to catcall.
They know they can shout out whatever the hell they want because we women won't engage them in conversation. It's an unspoken pact. They can holler things you'd never say in a bar or a football game or any other environment where men and women interact.
In fact, much like women usually dress up for other women, men catcall in front of other men to impress their buddies. It's a way to show how virile and heterosexual you are, without having to prove it. They know damn well we'll never challenge them.

And at least in New Zealand, even if we try to take a stand, we get hauled down to the police station for it.

Tuesday, May 20, 2008


Look closely at that top photo, for it is quite possibly the greatest invention known to mankind.
And it no longer exists.

It is a combination toothpick/earwax spoon.

Apparently, "experts found a tiny gold toothpick and earwax spoon, believed to be more than 385 years old, during the search for a shipwrecked Spanish galleon off the Florida Keys."

How could these multi-purpose marvels have gone out of fashion?


It isn't as though modern technology has delivered us from the combined annoyances of ear wax and bits of gristle in our teeth after a satisfying meal. And the fact that this one is solid gold means you can safely conduct basic hygiene routines while impressing everyone with your wealth.

It seems to me that in this fast paced world we need this combination toothpick/ear wax spoon more than ever. Why isn't Ronco on this?

Picture turning on your TV and hearing this at full volume:

Billy Mays here for the astounding, one of a kind Pickerspooner!
Never before have you been able to both pick your teeth and scoop out ear wax with the same product!
Well with this special offer, available only on TV, those days are over!
Use it in your car!
Impress your friends at a party!
Make mom happy on Mother's Day!
Show your boss how you can multi-task!
You'll never have to endure the embarrassment of excess earwax or unsightly tooth refuse again!

Call now!

Wednesday, May 14, 2008


I know dorks.
Because I've been one since birth. There were a few teenage years where I tried to hide my essential dorkitude, but I have since embraced it and am a much happier person for it.
This is why I feel qualified to present Arwel Wynne Hughes with the coveted Dork of The Year Award.

To all the other dorks who were in the running, my apologies for your loss. There can only be one winner.
I suspect this parade of dorks were fantasizing that the title would come with:

1. A lifetime pass to the Renaissance Faire of your choice
2. A lifetime subscription to Cat Fancy magazine
3. A lifetime supply of Franzia boxed wine

But this is not the case.
Mr. Hughes, lest you get any funny ideas...
This award offers you nothing tangible.
Just the honor of legendary status here on Peon Confidential:
Arwel Wynne Hughes, 27 -- who has a chronic alcohol problem -- donned a black bin bag for a cape and used a metal crutch for a lightsabre when he impersonated the Dark Lord of the Sith on March 25.
He then lept over the wall of a "Jedi Church" where Barney Jones and his cousin Michael were duelling with lightsabres while filming a documentary.
The fans of the Star Wars films established the "church" last year in Holyhead, northwest Wales.
Hughes hollered "Darth Vader" as he swung his crutch about, whacking Barney Jones over the head with it and punching Michael Jones in the thigh.
The Jedi are guardians of peace and justice, and the force was with them at Holyhead Magistrates' Court as district judge Andrew Shaw punished "Darth Vader" with a two-month suspended jail sentence and a 100-pound (195-dollar, 126-euro) fine.
Hughes, who has previous convictions for assault, had drunk the best part of a 10-litre box of wine and could not remember the attack, his lawyer Frances Jones told the court.

Friday, May 09, 2008


Jackass of the day:

NORWALK, Conn. - A New York woman has filed a $100 claim against Norwalk saying a family outing to the Maritime Aquarium was ruined by dog feces. The woman claims her child's shoes, along with the entire outing, were ruined when her 1-year-old stepped in dog feces outside the Maritime Garage.

City attorney M. Jeffry Spahr said the official response is that her claim is denied and in his words, "poop happens."

Kelly DeBrocky, of Mahopac, N.Y., wants the city to reimburse her for $54 she spent replacing her toddler's ruined shoes and the expenses for parking and aquarium admission on April 5.

I've come to the conclusion that some people's lives are just one long hunt for an excuse to be irritated.

Thursday, May 08, 2008


Just woke up to this revealing glimpse of the modern American psyche:

NEW YORK - A children's story about a family of penguins with two fathers once again tops the list of library books the public objects to the most.

"And Tango Makes Three," released in 2005 and co-written by Justin Richardson and Peter Parnell, was the most "challenged" book in public schools and libraries for the second straight year, according to the American Library Association.

This is unbelievably ridiculous.
And consider that the ALA defines a "challenge" as a "formal, written complaint filed with a library or school requesting that materials be removed because of content or appropriateness."

So parents are going to great lengths, taking precious time out of their days just to oppose this book. All because they believe it is furthering the dreaded "homosexual agenda". Oh the horror! (P.S. Where can I get a hard copy of this "homosexual agenda"? I keep hearing about it, but can't seem to get my hands on a copy.)

It doesn't matter that this book is based on fact. Roy and Silo are two gay Central Park zoo penguins who have been inseparable for several years. In 2004 this duo adopted and raised little Tango for two and a half months. They kept her warm and fed her until she was strong enough to go out into the world on her own.

What's more family values-friendly than that?

Monday, May 05, 2008


Happy Cinco De Mayo everyone!

Today's celebration reminds me of an experience I had with my Viking mom at a Mexican restaurant in Atlanta. This was several years ago, so the place may or may not still exist. It was called Jalisco, and was (like most places in Atlanta) ensconced in a strip mall. Worse, it was one of those strip malls where the architects try to fool you into thinking it's actually an "olde" Southern town square. You know what I mean? They slap up some fake gaslamps and a "quaint" clock and hope that people pull in and say,
"Well, isn't this just adorable Tom! A sweet little town square right here off of I-85. What a charming piece of Southern history. And there's a Lens Crafters too!"

Anyway, we were there, enjoying some burritos, when a couple sat down next to us. It was a small restaurant, so when I say next to us, I mean right next to us.
Now, I'd like to add that the food at Jalisco was good, but it was not a particularly attractive or interesting place. There were no flickering candles or delicate flowers or anything remotely romantic about this place. Plus, the smell of fresh tar from the parking lot would waft in every time the door opened.
So, this couple starts looking longingly into each other's eyes. This leads to massaging each other's hands. Then thigh squeezing commences. Then tongues start slurping. Sweet nothings are whispered. Hair is tossed seductively.

Finally my mom decides she's had enough. She bellows in that harsh Finnish accent of hers,

"Enough already! This isn't Casablanca. This is a shitty Mexican restaurant. Just eat your refried beans and go home."

Thursday, May 01, 2008


I recently heard about the Flat Stanley Phenomenon.

Apparently, "students make paper Flat Stanleys and begin a journal with him for a few days. Then Flat Stanley and the journal are sent to another school where students there treat Flat Stanley as a guest and complete the journal. Flat Stanley and the journal are then returned to the original sender. Students can plot his travels on maps and share the contents of the journal. Often, a Flat Stanley returns with a pin or postcard from his visit. "

It seems that kids are now sending Flat Stanley to relatives too. It has become quite an involved process, with people packing Flat Stanley in suitcases and taking photographs of him on vacation. Flat Stanley leads a jet set life.
Recently, a Peon Confidential reader received Flat Stanley from a nephew.
This reader is the same person I traveled to Las Vegas with.
Now, what I find interesting, is that while this person has yet to send me beautiful pictures of us from the trip, I woke up this morning to find photographic evidence of Flat Stanley in front of the Bellagio fountains.

Damn Flat Stanley.
Nothing but a no good publicity hound.