Tuesday, August 31, 2010
Some people collect decorative spoons or thimbles from their trips to foreign lands.
Me, I collect toilet paper.
Actually, I don't even collect it personally.
No. Since I have the best friends a girl could ask for, I am able to wipe my ass with toilet paper from lands I've never visited.
In the photo above, you'll see a roll of toilet paper all the way from Amsterdam.
When I wipe my ass with this toilet paper, I can almost see the beautiful tulips and smell the hash smoke wafting out of a quaint cafe on the Leidseplein.
So, if any of you are planning any overseas trips, I urge you to think of me and my International House of Toilet Paper. You'll be helping this broke writer travel the world in my own special way.
Wednesday, August 11, 2010
An excellent way to tell that you're not living in a deluxe apartment building is when you go to take out your trash and find that one of your neighbors has disposed of their BONGZILLA box.
I hasten to add that I do not live in a dorm or frat house.
I really cannot imagine what one of my neighbors is doing with BONGZILLA, a.k.a "The Ultimate Party Fixture!" This is Midtown Manhattan, not Daytona Beach. I can't even buy more than 4 rolls of toilet paper at a time (which is why I'm always running out and stealing it from bars) because there isn't enough room. Yet this thirsty party animal has ample space in their urban abode for BONGZILLA.
Somewhere in this building it's perpetually Spring Break and I need to find out why.
Tuesday, August 10, 2010
By now, JetBlue flight attendant Steven Slater has become a symbol of fighting bullshit with a flourish:
JETBLUE FLIGHT ATTENDANT STORMS OFF THE JOB BY DROPPING F BOMBS AND EVACUATING PLANE VIA INFLATABLE SLIDE
This guy is a crusader in an era of overbooked flights, rude passengers and uncomfortable seats. Plus he has panache. But it got me to thinking how much cooler any resignation would be if you could exit stage left by zooming down an inflatable slide:
Imagine Richard Nixon resigning as President by shouting, "Fuck you America! You won't have Richard Nixon to kick around anymore" grabbing Pat by the hand and slipping out of the White House on an inflatable slide. Or if David Lee Roth quit Van Halen by packing up all his Aqua Net shrieking, "Fuck you Eddie! I'm out of here" and releasing an inflatable slide tucked away in his lycra pants.
The bottom line is:
If this shitty economy has taught us anything it's that there is no job security. We're all adrift, and you've got to sort out your path in a unique way. So if you're going to quit, take a lesson from Steven Slater and do it up right. Burn that fucking bridge down with a monogramed Zippo.
Thursday, August 05, 2010
For years I've described a certain kind of plain woman simply as "WOMAN".
She's the kind of woman who is fit, has good clear skin, healthy teeth, nice hair.
She is a nice physical specimen.
But she has no style and is duller than a non-alcoholic wedding reception.
I use this term because they remind me of Biology textbook illustrations like the one above.
There's nothing wrong with this woman. But no one, not even a horny 17-year-old is going to get a boner by looking at her.
The funny thing is, I've noticed over the years that a lot of men wind up marrying "WOMAN".
Sure, they'll date the gorgeous TV producer, the hot model, the sexy actress/waitress. But somehow they hit the age of 35 and marry "WOMAN".
I actually asked a sampling of men in the Wall Street area about this phenomenon. I asked them if they'd noticed that a lot of men tend to date the hot ones and marry the dull ones. I wondered if they'd even know what I was talking about. Or if they'd pretend not to get it. But to my surprise, they all knew exactly what I meant. And you know what most of them said?
"Because we're tired."