Humor

240 posts

Gawkerdating Missed Connection

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It all started when I was walking around Iceland, minding my own business. Suddenly, a tall skinny guy with white hair and a funny foreign accent came up to me and complimented my lips. I was overwhelmed with our instant chemistry and so I kissed him! Right there in the street! On the lips!

Then we went back to his place (it was kinda weird and remote, just like him – swooooon!) and had silent but passionate sex. When I woke he was gone, but there was an email from him on my blackberry! He missed me! But he had to leave because apparently he’s bringing down the oligarchical New World Order, or something? I don’t know, he wasn’t really clear on that. It seems very hush-hush.

Anyway. I don’t really know where we stand now because I just saw him on tv from London. He seems busy these days. I didn’t get any emails at all from him for the last three weeks. Hopefully now that he’s out he’ll email me again, but like I said, he seems busy. I may fly to Sweden though and try to catch up with him there. I hear he may be going there for business.

Well, if you made it this far, thanks for reading. I’ll keep you posted, and wish me luck! I really like this guy, he seems like a keeper.

Love, Codename:Stabby

Gawker Dating, Part IV: Continuing the “To Do” List

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See what I did there? I used “To Do” which is sort of a generic errand list headline and appropriated it for Gawker dating because these are also people that I would “do” under the right circumstances, in this case “do” implying “have dirty sex with,” because “do” is often used as…what’s that? Get the hell on with it because no one cares what I have to say and everyone just wants to see the pretty people? All right then. Ungrateful bastards. Continue reading →

Gawker Dating, Part III: If Only Things Were Different

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You know how sometimes you find that perfect guy, but he’s 52, gay, and lives in Hawaii and you’re 24, straight, and live with your parents in Hoboken? Well, compound that by like a million and that’s what it’s like to look at GawkerDating as a Married. Because it’s more than reading a post and getting to that point where you see that the sexual orientations or locations don’t match up; it’s reading a post and seeing that even if everything matches up, it really doesn’t matter, and all you can do is make a creepy comment about the softness of some guy’s hair or excellence of some girl’s rack. Which isn’t to say that you (OK, we) want it to matter, but it feels like it should, like everyone should be able to get in on the fun equally, up until you send a picture of yourself to someone who decides you’re not hot and stops returning your PMs. Because isn’t that what life and love are all about? Continue reading →

Gawker Dating, Part II: This is Where You Lost Me

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Here’s the thing about us all being such incredibly shallow bastards: Uh, we’re incredibly shallow bastards. We like photos, because looks matter, and while those who did post pictures turned out to be largely pleasant surprises, it’s impossible not to wonder what’s hiding behind those who are forgoing pictures in favor of a thousand words. Luckily, your favorite editorial assistant (I mean me, assholes) is here to decipher some choice words and phrases from actual Gawker Dating posts in order to help you understand who’s painting hot pictures and who’s basically spray-painting acne and man-boobs all over the place, using a little game I like to call “This is Where You Lost Me.” Continue reading →

Gawker Dating, Part I: Your Hair Is So Soft

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It was only a matter of time, really. Put together thousands of Internet people who only like talking to other Internet people and eventually everyone was bound to want to sleep with each other. Enter #GawkerDating, a portal to the weird wide world of weird wide people; some of whom sound awesome, some of whom sound terrifying, and all of whom haven’t seen someone naked in a while. Continue reading →

An Honest Holiday Letter

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Dear Family Member, Friend, or Roommate of Mine from College With Whom This is Our Only Interaction All Year,

We hope that this letter finds you doing well this holiday season!  It’s been an interesting and eventful year in our household again.

We’re still living in the same subdivision, and can’t believe that it’s been 7 years already.  Ted seems to think we’ll be here forever, probably b/c between the first and second mortgages, we aren’t really in a great position to sell.   That said, I know we wouldn’t trade the boat or the trips to Disney or the Grand Canyon in previous years for just about anything.  Fortunately, we have lots of photos of those trips.

Speaking of the boat, we didn’t get out on it more than a few times this year, what with the price of gasoline being what it is.   I know the kids are disappointed about that, and the lack of a ‘big’ vacation this year.  But, I think the road trip we took to Aunt Nancy’s in July was a nice getaway for them, even if there is no theme park or body of water in Lincoln, Nebraska.  We managed to make it while sitting through only one dust storm, so it was truly a wonderful time.

Ted is still with the same employer, which we’re thankful for, even though he hasn’t gotten a raise in three years.  He’s actually doing so well there that he’s doing his job, and the job of another guy who was let go at the beginning of the year!  His boss jokes that maybe this year there’ll be a Christmas bonus, depending on what Obama does with his tax rates.  There hasn’t been one of those in five years, but we’ve learned to do without it.

For my part, I’m still working part time at the jewelry store at the mall, mostly while the kids are in school.  Granted, now that they’re older, I’ve flirted with going back to work full time, but there doesn’t seem to be much out there for a sociology graduate who hasn’t worked in the field for the last 13 years.  Again, though, we’re lucky to both have money coming in, so we won’t complain.

As far as the kids go, Annabelle is in her last year of middle school, and is looking forward to being a full-fledged high schooler (and teenager!).  There was a big uproar at her public school this year because a health teacher tried to do a unit on sexual education.  It was disconcerting, to say the least.  After all, there are some conversations even we won’t have with our daughter.

Randy is finishing up his junior year, and has moved into the top 1/3 of his class.  Our state, isn’t exactly known for education, and his school district is mediocre at best, but we’re celebrating the little victories.  He’s already started to look at some colleges out west, as he’d really like to go away for a few years.  Ted has been urging him, subtly, to look at some of the local community colleges.   Our hope is that nobody gets completely crippled by debt that way.

That’s about all of our news.  We hope everyone has a wonderful holiday and a fruitful New Year!

Love,

Middle America

Meet the next Martin Amis, if Martin Amis couldn’t write and didn’t have a famous father. And was a girl. Who’s American.

Every six months, I decide that I am going to write something. This something is usually a short story. Occasionally, it is a novel. Always, it is basically autobiographical, because I am not good at making things up that aren’t lies to make my life easier, e.g., “No, Verizon customer service representative, I did not repeatedly drop my Droid on concrete, as that would be irresponsible. It vibrated off a slightly sloped, very low table, onto thick-pile carpet. What? Oh. I have no idea how that cracked the screen. Faulty product, obviously.”

The problem is, I am not good at writing like this. I don’t know why I keep trying. It is like Barney Frank deciding to sing opera or Britney Spears promising to wear underwear every day. Some people are not cut out for some things.

And yet. I try. I’m trying now. I have two pages – and that’s single spaced. It will be different this time. There will be a plot, instead of vague and morose character development lasting for ten pages before I get distracted and never come back to it. There will be some pretense of it not being a journal entry. I will not channel Holden Caulfield. I will not start every sentence with the words “I,” “they,” or “the.” And when I fail miserably, as I always do, I will shelve this foolishness and go back to the things I’m actually good at, like telling the internet about interesting scientific progress or what food products I woke up to find on my floor after a night of heavy drinking.

For six months or so.

I’m still alive!

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4LOKO tried, but was ultimately unsuccessful at killing me. I woke up at about 10 a.m. feeling a slight hangover but nothing exceptional.

So I ended up drinking almost three full cans of the stuff. To be honest, banning this drink is pretty ridiculous. I honestly don’t think it’s really any more dangerous than any other booze product. The caffeine makes for an extremely pleasant buzzed feeling at first, but eventually it wears off. 4LOKO won’t keep you up all night. After all, alcohol is a depressant and once all that caffeine and sugar metabolizes, your entire system crashes exactly like it would with just plain ol’ booze.

I ended up passing out on the couch at like 2 a.m. or so, then woke up at 4, chugged a glass of water and went to bed. Pretty much no different than what would have happened if I were putting back a bunch of beers.

In fact, I will go so far as to say that if 4LOKO actually came in smaller cans, it would be a very nice way to start a night out. If you only drink say, half a can, the caffeine won’t wreak havoc on your stomach and the buzz is really very pleasant.

Exploding Snails Will Ruin Your Birthday Party

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Bickers Dinner: EscargotQuiet Marin County California was the scene of a devastating snail explosion at the birthday party of 59 year old Danville, CA resident Chadwick St.-OHarra.  The birthday boy is now suing the restaurant over the explosive injection of garlic butter and snail juice into his eye and tear duct that occurred when he used a fork to attempt to eat the snail.  One can only imagine the snail would be satisfied with the situation had it survived the frying pan.

San Jose Mercury News