Offensive Line

While sauntering through Herald Square yesterday and test-driving my new pimp-strut (I think it may need a little more dip in the front step), I happened upon a scene of American gluttony near stereotypical proportions. 3 obese women and their one medium-sized friend (maybe she shrunk in the wash) sat around a small circular park table having a fried chicken party. Each rotund woman had her own 16-piece bucket nestled in her lap that she dug into while a grease moustache-goatee formed a ring around her feeding hole. When a bucket was done, she would don it upon her head as her party hat.

The diameter of the table they sat around was only half that of one of the monster-truck-tire stomachs of these Bertha-sized women. It had the effect of making the party look like a trio of walruses and a blowfish hovering over a pre-school stool that served as a countertop for their chow. One woman had bone hanging out her mouth like a toothpick while she gammed away. And there were enough bones strewn about that one might mistake them for grave-diggers. But they were only digging into fried chicken (or Fried C; KFC isn't exactly chicken) with their teeth, and yet, with each dig, they were one step closer to the grave.

Like any good New Yorker, I stopped in my tracks to observe the spectacle with little regard for propriety. I pointed at them and took polaroids too. Sorry, the polaroids are not to be shared; they're for my personal collection of "Awful Things I Can't Keep My Eyes Off Of." I watched as they devoured that chicken as if they hadn't seen food in three weeks, but yet it was clear from the way their butts enveloped their chairs like a tub of playdough over a child's finger that starvation was certainly not the case here. I waited with bated breath to see who the the first to keel over would be.

I do however feel ashamed for critiquing the bodies and eating habits of these women. I do acknowledge the fact that everyone has a different body type from walking stick to frog body to pear-shaped to Abominable Snowperson. But the combination of them all sitting together around a tiny table inhaling buckets worth of fried meat in the middle of Herald Square for everyone to see made the moment all the more absurd and thus, open to ridicule.

Perhaps I'm being too callous. I should instead celebrate the fact that through their fried chicken party, these bold women were simply defying the rigid and ridiculous standards of American beauty (not to be confused with the classic Kevin Spacey film) and in Manhattan no less, an island that has more unsightly skinny people than North Korea (eww concentration camp joke? poor form). So if it's an act of defiance, a counterhegemonic protest, then that I can get behind. However, I refuse to literally get behind one of these women. KFC = Kentucky Flatulance Catalyst.

Fun with Antonyms! Hooray!...or should I say "Aw Shucks?"

Conan does analogies for SAT prep, I do antonyms for GRE prep. Someone very smart once told me opposites attract. I hope this attracts me a lot of ladies :) Alright! Giggidy giggidy giggidy!

[Note: These are antohymns. Please sing aloud to the melody of your favorite church song.]


trepidation :: confidence

New York Knicks :: success

Sarah Palin :: anything remotely good for humanity

cleanliness :: my dad's toenails-ness

whorehouse :: comic book store

commando :: underpants

thank you :: shiv to the abdomen...and twist

Sammy Sosa :: blackface

delicious :: cream cheese with vanilla ice cream (dairy was a bad idea!)

Pope Ratzinger :: Obi Wan Kenobi

health insurance :: Republican idiocy

Muslim :: Muoverweight

gladiolas :: unhappyolas (Note: my cousin told this joke at his wedding. Yes, that's right, his wedding. Best of luck to his wife.)

butter face :: jelly ass

belly flop :: washboard abs river (a Texas Hold 'Em joke? Really?)

miniscule :: Rush Limbaugh's FACE

dry skin :: wet turkey breast

sense :: this blog

complete devotion to artistic integrity and aesthetic goodness :: Black Eyed Peas

mortal enemy :: my best friend Zombie Teddy!

self-affirming experience :: that time I fell asleep in freshman Bio and I had a dream about Ligers (lion + tiger) and I yelled myself awake in front of the whole class by yelping out loud "Please don't bite me Mr. Pussy Cat!!" to which the teacher replied, "I won't bite...hard."

clowns :: kind-hearted people that make children smile

the beginning of a book :: the end of fun and leisure

cinnamon :: antonym

reading my blog :: curing cancer, ending world hunger, fixing the environment, solving the economic crisis, ensuring world peace, erasing the hate, etc. etc.

Fly Love: Pantalonic Terminologic Question of the Day

Why is the crotchal opening of a pair of pants or boxer shorts called the "fly?" The comparison of an open seam to an obnoxious insect is absurd. I have never once seen a house fly with genitalia coming out of it. And a fly with a zipper is definitely more akin to a Venus fly trap anyway due to the obvious dangers posed by the teeth of the zipper. But if a fly has teeth, wouldn't it be more appropriate to call it a "mouth?" Then again, if it was called the mouth, it would be much more confusing when you walk out of the McDonald's bathroom and Grimace turns to you and says, "Hey buddy, your mouth is open."

But let's not forget that fly is also a verb, just like sting is at once a rock icon and the action most commonly associated with my biting one-liners (e.g. "Your face smells like something very unpleasant!"). Perhaps fly is a reference to opening the cage door of your pants and letting your woodpecker soar free (and hopefully sore-free). I know why the caged bird sings, but who wants that singing coming from their pants. "Is that a caged bird in your pants or is that just your ringtone?" Hence, the term "fly" is really about letting one's self fly free.

When hiphoppers started using "fly" as an adjective on par with cool, were they making the comparison to the crotchal opening in pants? If so, then the declaration "yo you rockin' some fly kicks!" roughly translates to "Excuse me friend, the fashionable sneakers you are wearing have the same high level of appeal as the crevasse found at the top of a pair pants that hovers near the reproductive and waste organs. Kudos to you."

Isn't it odd that a button fly, when buttoned up, merely subdivides itself into a series of smaller flies? That's like shutting your door to keep people out of your room, but then opening up 5 tiny doors instead for tiny people to enter...Did that one fly over your head? Wordplay!

Dating Dues and Donuts

Have you ever wondered what you should and should not do on a first date? If you answered yes, then I feel sorry for you. But rest assured, POTUS B-HO has come to save the day..t. When he's not busy bringing peace to the entire world, he gets his administration to issue Dating Do's and Don'ts via this government-sanctioned site: http://twoofus.org/educational-content/articles/dating-dos-and-donts/index.aspx.

I think B-HO should issue similar guides on other everyperson preoccupations like "What to do when you're in a public bathroom and realize your stall is out of toilet paper" or "Magic tricks on a job interview? Tada! or Nah-uh!"

Here is the Obama administration's list of Dating Do's and Don'ts for successful heteronormative, gender-conforming relationships:

Dues:
Take precautions and keep yourself safe. Wear elbow pads, knee pads, bicycle helmet, chin strap, mouth guard, jock strap, shin guards, mythril under armor, armor, chest plate, dinner plate, finger condoms, tanooki suit, and ride in the pope-mobile. That thing is virtually indestructible and can probably destroy demons and vampires should you happen upon any during the course of your date.

Be attentive. Focus very carefully on your date's cleavage or the spinach stuck between their teeth.

Be courteous. Always curtsy after your date says something. "Nice to meet you." Curtsy. "Why are you curtsying?" Curtsy. "Stop doing that weirdo." Curtsy. "I'm gonna kill Mona for making me go on this blind date!" Curtsy..

Remember to have fun! Bring a slip-n-slide. 60% of the time those things are fun everytime.

Follow Up. If you want to see the person again, wait for them by their place of work and follow them home. Then peer into their window while they change into house clothes and watch them prepare dinner. Is that paella you smell? Yes, yes it is. Excuse me, I mean, Si, si esa es.

Donuts:
Don’t be late! But just in case you are, wind all the clocks at the restaurant back an hour right before meeting up with your date. Then convince them that they're extremely early and must've forgotten about daylight savings. If you are late for more than an hour, wind all the clocks back for even more time and convince your date that they must be from the future! Great Scott!!

Don’t discuss emotional or controversial topics. Try not to bring up that time you cried in front of thousands of people after a five year-old made fun of your argyle socks at an anti-abortion rally. Instead, talk about safe, mundane things like the word plug and how weird it sounds when you say it over and over a hundred and three times. Or talk about every digit of the number pi. You'll never run out of conversation that way.

Don’t come on too strong. Try not to lift ridiculously heavy objects like city buses or baby elephants in front of your date so as not to intimidate them with your freakish mutant abilities. However, if your date becomes compromised by an attack from an army of giant wasps from another dimension, use full force to kick some thorax butt.

Don’t hide who you really are. I'm looking at you Clark Kent. Also, don't hide, you know, like behind the bushes or beneath a table or camouflaged as a brick wall. Though there exists sweatpants hot and sick-in-bed hot, there's really no such thing as creepy hot.

Don’t get too physical, too soon. In fact, don't even move a single muscle the entire date. Simply stare the whole time. Just channel Bernie from Weekend at Bernie's. He clearly had a good time AND got a sequel. It'll work for you too.

If this dating guide helped you in any way, I again continue to feel sorry for you.

MiserMatch.com

My friend recently started dating a woman he met over the internet. No, it wasn't something trite like eharmony or match.com. He instead opted for a free dating service, because that's where all the cheap singles are. Their slogan hooked him in: "Love is priceless so why pay for it?" In other words, "The only thing better than hooking up is hooking up for free."

It's a smart move since you can be assured that the women that use this service are not only cheap themselves, but they're also looking for cheap mates. That is a low bar and utterly attractive to this non-pole-vaulter. A woman found on this site expects no fancy dinners, no cab or carriage rides. She wouldn't even expect to be swiped in on the subway. She'll know to crawl underneath the turnstiles instead. And no broadway shows or even off-broadway shows, just sock puppets over a cardboard box-turned-stage. She won't even shake her head in disapproval when after the show, you put the socks back on her feet.

The only risk you may have to deal with in using a free dating service is the ugly factor. Your spendthrift date may also be looks-thrift. Let's face it, beauty isn't exactly natural. More often than not it's paid for. Hygiene products like skin moisturizers, teeth whitenizers, assorted Zit-Offs, dandruff shampoo-carpet cleaner-all-in-one are all pricey. Hair cuts cost money and so do tweezers, razors, clippers, and other weed-wacking instruments. Gym memberships and healthy foods have a price too. So you may find yourself enjoying a Happy Meal over a milk crate with a pepporoni faced manatee with full beard, brillow pad hair, and a couple spare tires. It's never a good sign when your date asks you to roll them home.

But let's hope both of you are so cheap you've both refused to buy glasses your eyes desparately need. Or that you're trying to save on electricity by having a lightbulb-less apartment. A moonlit dinner is very romantic afterall...but mostly because you can barely make out the schlub sitting across from you. Love is blind for a reason.