Saturday, February 26, 2005
Friday, February 25, 2005
The iPod Cell
I can't wait for the iPod Cell to come out.
Isn't it annoying to feel your cellphone vibrating, have to pause your iPod, take an earbud out, then take the phone out of your pocket and answer it? I'd love to be listening to my iPod Cell, then when a call comes I'd hit the "answer" button which would automatically pause the music and then the conversation would be played in my earbuds and my end would be picked up by an ambient mic on the earbud cord. When we were done talking the "hang up" button automatically resumes the music. Seamless.
It would also be really cool to play music to the person you're talking to. If that wouldn't be considered "fair use," I don't know what would. In fact, I'd be willing to bet record companies would fall over themselves to get something going like this that would facilitate such great word-of-mouth promotion. Just imagine:
LaFawnduh: Hey, what are you doing?
Kip: You know. Just working on some moves... training for cage fighting. And I'm listening to a pretty sweet track.
LaFawnduh: Is it cool?
Kip: Listen for yourself.
LaFawnduh: Honey, you have horrible taste in music.
Monday, February 21, 2005
I grew up across the street from these two sisters that just weren't dealt a lot of good cards in their life. They were both about my age and we would play together all the time. The eldest was short and chubby, but still I would get into arguments with my friend about who would get to be her boyfriend. In high school she would bring her gerbil to school and when someone would comment on how cute the gerbil was, she would hold it next to her face so that they would somehow associate the cuteness with her.
The younger sister suffered from some unnamed affliction and was very frail. Her hair stood off of her head like a burst of dishwire and she wore braces on her arms and legs. Once I kicked a ball to her and when it bounced off of her shins she stood there screaming with crippling pain.
In elementary school I went through a serious klepto phase and I ended up stealing this golden necklace from the younger sister. I held onto it for months, then when my family went camping I claimed to have found it in a tree stump. They bought the story without question. I was disheartened at how easily they were hooked as I think I secretly wanted to be caught.
But it doesn't really make much difference now, because I just found out that they're both dead... so I guess that necklace is mine.
Saturday, February 19, 2005
Friday, February 18, 2005
Planned Parenthood Recommends Anal Sex
A Bartender's Guide to Not Getting Laid
Write some blog about how easy it is to get girl's phone numbers.
Wednesday, February 16, 2005
A Bartender's Guide to Getting Girl's Phone Numbers
Want to score "tha mad digitz" and get "all up ons wit tha ladiez"? Sure you do. I mean, who wouldn't? Unless you're gay... and you're not gay, are you? Okay, so assuming you're not gay (which you're not) here's the lowdown: get yourself a job selling drinks. It makes that sort of thing ridiculously easy. Then follow this E-Z guide!
(Okay, I guess this also works if you're gay, so forget all that stuff I said earlier. It's cool. We're cool.)
Why is being a bartender the heat?
- There is no need to initiate conversation. If there is a girl you find hot, there is a good chance she'll be coming to talk with you at some point during the night. Without the awkwardness of the the approach.
- There is predefined emotional distance which requires for them to mentally approach you. This distance is established by the fact that you are "at work", that they must ask for you to get them something, and the physical separation provided by the bar between you and her.
- It's like you're getting them drinks without having to buy them, and that, my friends, is awesome.
Hey, yo, so how can you know if the girl is single or not? Easy. Remember: This is "out". Where you are is "out", and girls usually bring their boyfriends "out". If she's alone or with a girlfriend the chances are good she's single. Plus little things like her actually laughing at a joke or even just talking to you beyond simple drink orders are pretty good signals. If she's with a guy but you're picking up some "signals," you can always ask, "so, is that other drink for your boyfriend?"
If you plan on asking a girl out there is a progression to things. Formulaic, really.
- First Beer) Eye contact. Smile. Minor Jokes
Get the ten second conversation down. For the first two beers, don't be afraid to have to break conversation with her to take an order. Taking other orders avoids awkward pauses in conversation and gives the impression that you're on the go! Plus, it's like your job to take orders and stuff.
- Next to last beer) Compliment her. More smiling. More eye contact. Ask her Name.
The compliments don't have to be extravagant. Anything, really. "I really like your [shirt : necklace : bracelet : lack of patchouli smell]," then do that smile where your eyes kind of twinkle. Compliments are really just a way of letting her know that you have taken notice of her as a person, not a customer.
When you ask a girl her name, for the love of Pete, remember it! Also remember what beer they are drinking. It like shows you're attentive and stuff. I'm especially bad at this whole remembering thing, so I've found that it's helpful to start a little list of the girls you've talked to. Include with their name a short description of what they're wearing, look like, or something distinguishing. Keep this list somewhere you can nonchalantly look at it and reference it when you see them approach.
- Final Beer) Ask her out already!
The real trick is judging what beer will be a girls final one. You don't want to ask her before then. If she ends up ordering more beer after you've gotten the digits it's always kind of awkward and you run the risk of doing something stupid like forgetting her name which is even more awkward and severely inhibits the possibility of future dates with said girl. No, you want for each instance of contact with a girl to be steadily more impressive.
CAUTION: When giving girls a piece of paper to write on, please be sure that there is not already another girl's phone number already on there. "Oh, there's room on the back" doesn't really help the situation.
After you get the number, make a note of some of the stuff you talked about either next to their name on the name list you made earlier or on the number itself. When you call later you can use this info as point of reference. You may also need to write her name on the number, but the girls will almost always do that for you. Keep track of when you got it so you can hold to the Two Day Rule.
Wait, what? She said "no"?
So she said no. Whatever. She doesn't know what she's missing. There is a secret to all successful mack-daddies: volume. Out of the sheer number of people with whom you interact, there are bound to be a few who don't find you too repulsive to date. Now get back out there!
Monday, February 14, 2005
Wednesday, February 09, 2005
"We don't want to alarm either of you," said a customer, "but is smells like there is a gas leak in the women's room."
Lauren goes to check out the situation. Meanwhile, I'm not very worried as the bathrooms just tend smell bad in a non-standard way. I figure the person is confusing stinks when - oh my god - I do smell something!
I have just long enough to kind of freak out (I mean, what would we do? Evacuate the club?) when the next girl who comes to the bar says, nonchalantly, "oh yeah, that smell's coming from me."
"The gas smell. I'm not used to filling my car up and I spilled gas all over myself." She was so candid and unashamed about it; even knowing that just about everyone in the club was talking about her!
Earlier there were threats of a gas leak of another kind. I've gotten quite used to being nude in front of a class of scrutinizing college-kids, but I'm comfortable with it only to the point of me being a living sculpture. Anything beyond that which would betray my humanity is mortifying - such as, oh, farting. I felt one coming and, without thinking, did that clench that we all know how to do but then realized, "dear god! They can see my ass clenching!" What to do? Do I continue clenching or do I try to let it out slowly? How would letting it out slowly look? A last ditch solution is to pass out right then and there. You could probably get away with just about anything as long as you passed out. The problem in this case solved itself by going away. I don't know where it went, but at least I could go back to being self-conscious of the huge bite-mark on my bicep.
Tuesday, February 08, 2005
Gym Teacher Sex Scandal, Tennessee
The nation is reeling from reports of Pamela R. Turner, a gorgeous blonde 27-year-old gym teacher at Centertown Elementary School in McMinnville Tennessee, having sexual relations with her thirteen year old male student. A boy who, under normal circumstances, would normally only fantasize about having sex with his gorgeous blonde gym teacher.
"It is a travesty that a sexually mature, yet inexperienced boy be initiated into the world of carnal pleasures by a lasciviously rapacious young faculty member. This goes against the natural order of things which is that a young man's first sexual experience be with a terrified virgin under the ping-pong table in the basement rec-room," said Mr. Commanderson, school principal.
Dr. Morrison, a court-appointed psychologist said that, "the victim is suffering physical trauma as a result of multiple high-fives and extensive emotional damage resulting from his now impossibly high standards of beauty and sexual maturity in his future sex partners."
"It's not going to be an easy road for this brave young man," added Morrison.
The Centertown student body is doing their best to cope with the scandal. "All of us guys, we would joke about how cool it'd be to have sex with Ms. Turner," said one classmate. "But those were just jokes. We never imagined that something like this would actually happen. Now that it's a reality I... my whole world has turned upside down."
"It's shocking," says the victim's father, "it really is. If I could go back in time and bare this terrible burden for my son, I would. Oh why God? Why couldn't it have been me instead?"
Of course, the real issue lies in the emotional stress that can become of a domineering teacher emotionally controlling her student, but there are no laws governing emotionally controlling relationships, so all charges focus entirely on the sexual acts.
Turner faces more than 100 years of prison time if convicted.
Ms. Turner's lawyer says he will pursue the insanity defense. "Would a woman of right mind and this level of hotness have sex with her awkward, 13-year old student? It just doesn't make sense!"
Says Turner, "when I would suck [the victim] off in-between classes or when he was tapping me doggystyle after school, I could really sense the emotional damage I was causing, but I just couldn't stop! Oh lord, I need help."
When asked for comment, the victim, obviously in a state of shock, said, "OMG it was awesome! I mean... horrible? I'm like all damaged and stuff? Do I have to go to class?"
Read the for real story at CNN.
Monday, February 07, 2005
I'd like to know the purpose of those wood bleachers you see in front of frat houses. I mean, bleachers are usually for viewing a spectacle, but these point out towards the road. Is there some sort of hierarchy for which people can sit on which level? It was that way in Escape from Alcatraz
. Clint Eastwood goes to talk to his new black friend, who is sitting on the top level, and asks what's the deal with the people sitting on the different levels. Clint's friend says it indicates your rank.
Clint starts to sit one level lower than his friend, when the friend aggressively says, "are you not going to sit with me because you don't think you're my equal, or because you hate niggers?"
Clint then gets up and sits with his friend and says, "I just hate niggers." Then they share a laugh. Only Clint Eastwood could get away with that! Jon Heder would have gotten his ass beat, even though he is pretty good with a bow staff.
Sunday, February 06, 2005
Inspired by a previous post. This comic really confused my mom, 'cause she couldn't tell that was a dog. You can tell it's a dog, right?
Saturday, February 05, 2005
Automatically Download TGP, Face the Consequences
During one of the many dry-spells in my life I wrote iMeMiner
, a program which'll automatically download all the porn you could ever want. See, porn sites put up these pages of sample galleries of images or movies to get you incited to sign up with them. Then there are TGPs (Thumbnail Gallery Posts) which post huge collections of links to these free pages with short descriptions like "anal gallery" or "hot latina babes". iMeMiner goes to a TGP page and extracts all of those links. You click the ones you want downloaded then sit back and let the porn start poring in. (One cool thing about iMeMiner is it'll eventually figure out your preferences and let you sort the listed galleries so all the "naughty Hungarian teen" links come to the top - if you're into that sort of thing).
Well, due to me setting iMeMiner to download movie galleries and then accidentally leaving it going all night, I now have over a gigabyte of porn on my computer. That is not a small number. That is a very big number, and a pretty sound violation of one of my aught-five resolutions. I don't want to just delete it all, because that would seem wasteful. Who knows if the hottest porn clips ever lie somewhere in there, lurking, like a naughty Hungarian teen? Then again, going through it all is proving to be pretty tedious.
After viewing hundreds of porn clips, little patterns start to emerge. A couple of things really jumped out at me. More often than not anal sex is the final event. I guess this is because porn is fantasy and it 's not your typical girl that exclaims, "oh yeah! I love buttfucking! Especially DPs! And when you're done, could you come on my face?" What struck me as odd is that even porn stars have trouble saying "pussy." "Oh my god I can't wait for you to shove your huge, thick cock in my tight, wet pussy." It's just a weird word, but I suppose that's really the best euphemism we have. Consider the alternatives. If romance novelists wrote the dialogue you'd hear over the BWOW-chicka-chickka of funk bass, "come, my stallion, and with your gleaming manhood part the petals of my delicate woman-flower!" That would just be horrible.
If all alien anthropologists had to go on was our porn, they would have a totally skewed view of how we actually reproduce. With all the pull outs, condoms, girl-girl, anal, oral, guy-guy, handjobs, onanism, and prematures going on, I'm sure our chromosomes get really frustrated watching it happen.
Friday, February 04, 2005
The Art of Failing
Senior Tarde is just about one of the best people whom I've met in Carrboro. He is your stereotypical band-geek - entirely into his music. A complete audiophile. Amazingly awkward in social situations. Thinks it's incredibly funny to wear a cheesy sweater with a picture of big guitars and American flags at one of his shows. One to un-ironically wear a tie out. Totally pissed of that girls - according to him - are more swooned by his bandmates.
One trait that we share is we are both deathly afraid of regret, but in opposite ways. My fear is the regret of not taking action, not trying; for him it is of doing something wrong then living to regret it. This has the effect of turning him into a shy, awkward boy. Sr. Tarde is so paralyzed by the idea of making a bad impression when he speaks to someone (especially a cute girl) that in a cruel self-fulfilling prophecy of performance anxiety his tongue will tie itself in a thousand knots. Kind of like being so worried about not getting a boner that you, in fact, don't get a boner. (Or worse, being so worried that you will get one that the Erection Fairy visits at the most inappropriate of occasions.)
Whether you succeed or fail, I think there is a lot to be said for trying.
Tuesday, February 01, 2005
The Singing Toothpick
invented a Singing Toothpick and it recently gave a tremendous performance at the Cradle. It was quite a fiasco. Load-in was a 4:23AM. The road crew finally rolled in in three aquamarine tour busses. Immediately I and the son of Nosferatu were dispatched as runners to fill the toothpicks extravagant rider. I return 720 minutes later with a jar of honeybees, three broken pogo-sticks, the tail of Haley's Comet, and a domesticated lemur named Karl. The show was a success. The Toothpick has really learned to master some impressive stage techniques. He emerged in a bed of fog backlit by 200 strobing black lights and wearing a white cape made from the pelt of the Hamburger Helper glove. Audience members swooned as he sang such hits as "Boulders Boulders Everywhere" and "Goodbye Color Purple". The Toothpick almost met his end when, after a long night of partying in the greenroom, he got belligerently drunk and passed out in a box of OCSC matches.
Wired News' Regina Lynn
about the lack of good, online sex-chat.
Lordy oh man was she ever right.
spongebob69: I fumble with your bra straps
nottygrl784: do you need some help?
spongebob69: no, I got it.
nottygrl784: r u sure?
spongebob69: yeah, almost there
nottygrl784: ugh. just let me. there. its unhooked.
spongebob69: i take off your bra
nottygrl784: im covering my boobs
spongebob69: you shldnt. u r ttly hotttt!
spongebob69: u r naked now
spongebob69: k, i'm going 4 it
nottygrl784: im just laying there
spongebob69: kind of not sure where things are
nottygrl784: its right where u left it
spongebob69: k got it
spongebob69: im thrusting awkwardly
nottygrl784: im still laying there
spongebob69: still thrusting
nottygrl784: still laying there
spongebob69: my erections kind of going down
spongebob69: but I hope you dont notice
nottygrl784: i'm still lyaing there
spongebob69: concentr8ng. still methodically thrusting
nottygrl784: i think im strting to xperience some pleasure
spongebob69: OH MY GOD IM COMMING!!!!!
spongebob69: im collapsing on top of you
nottygrl784: still laying there
nottygrl784: but now more awkwrdly
nottygrl784: im condiscndingly pating you on the back