Hot for Teacher

Where were these teachers when I was in school?

Suddenly, Reading Rocks!

Thong news makes the front page of the Wall Street Journal. Sweet.

Killing the Mood, vol. 532

My friend e-mails to tell me about a date he had last night that ended aburptly when the woman noted that she "[couldn't] wait for that new Wayans Brothers movie to come out this weekend." If that's what's out there, guys, it may be time to colonize Mars.

Hell hath no fury

I heard some girl on the radio giving the Satanic Death Threat to her ex during the midnight dedication, and it got me to thinking...it's been a while since I had a good revenge fantasy. I remember hearing a story about this chick who trashed her boyfriend's apartment, took boring old rental-eggshell-white paint and went Pollack on his ass, covered every piece of furniture in his place, some of it not actually purchased at Ikea but Ethan Allen (hmm, a Queer-Eye touch?) and made quite a nasty mess. So he decides to post the pictures on a website and and is immediately innundated by poor dudes with their own tales of psycho-ettes--voice mail clips, copies of restraining orders, that sort of thing. As far as I know my mug hasn't made it to that hall of shame. Y'know why? Listen close, little grasshopper. The best form of revenge is indifference.

Double Teamed

Goodchristalmighty... bad enough the Olsen Twins haunt my sleep... now I've got Hilary and Haylie Duff, Jessica and Ashlee Simpson, and Lindsay and Alison Lohan battling it out for soul control of my hard-ons. Don't even get me started on the Hilton Sisters. America, you continue to rock my ass!

it's like faking an O

Ugh. I just attempted to watch the Mr. Clean version of Sex and the City on TBS. Have you ever caught "The Simpsons" in spanish when you're flipping around stations? Even if you spoke spanish, Hombre still aint Homer. Dubbed/cut/edited/castrated, whatever you want to call it, I think Sex on basic cable sucks ass. I'll gladly pay my extra $29.95 a month for ab-so-fuckin'-lutely, Samantha fucking a hot fireman/20-year-old/banker/neighbor/etc., and trash-talkin', potty-mouthed, east coast ladies. Oh yeah--I'll also take a couple of those soft pornos after 11:00PM, thank you very much.

10 things to do in Danvers when you're (on) meds

I'm going to get in big trouble for this post, but I'd like to start a one-chick campaign to take guys off meds. Specifically, those of the Prozac/Zoloft/Xanax persuasion. I know, I know, it's horrible, and depression is nothing to laugh about, or at least you can't find anything to laugh about when you're still in bed at 3:27 PM, counting the ceiling tiles. But goddamn it, is your mental illness more important than my getting off?!? See, there's this little blurb. You know the blurb--you see it in Lilliputian font on the side of the prescription bottle, you hear it at Munchkin-speak-warp-seven in TV commercials while people laugh over lunch or swing each other around on the beach. It's called side effects. And one of those is: loss of libido. That's right, loss of your Johnny-Be-Wood, your walk-quietly-and-carry-a-big-stick, your lovely, delicious, hard-on. So I ask you, can you please, for the love of Pete, don't take your meds the morning of our big date? Stay away from sharp objects, don't try to spend too much time in your room, sweat it out and I promise you, I'll give you shot of Seratonin so fucking big your pituitary gland is gonna think the Seven Horsemen of the Apocalypse just threw a kegger.
Please, baby? Please?

The Hell?

For quite some time, as seemingly every woman in the world has adopted an "all thongs, all the time" policy, I've been on cloud 9. But lately, it seems the panty lines are back. Is this a trend? Or some sort of punishment for something awful I've done? If so, sorry, God. Can you switch it back now?

Wood Chopper

Bob Dylan stars in a new series of Victoria's Secret commercials... across town, libidos suddenly wane. Coincidence?

how come video dating never took off?

Remember in Singles, when Debbie Hunt does that video dating thing and ends up having to duke it out with her roommate for the Lance Armstrong biker dude? I wonder why that never caught on, but a few carefully retouched photos and some witty, oft pompous asides on a lame internet dating site have attracted millions. Think about it: on camera, talking, laughing, waving their arms, picking wax out of their ears, can show you a hell of a lot more about a person than knowing their favorite movie or Pokemon character. And God knows, with the latest glut of reality drivel, everyone wants to be on TV. Maybe there should be a cable channel dedicated to dating; it could be called "Channel Surf for Love" or something retarded like that. Or you could have a Blockbuster that only carries DVDs of people's single ads: you stroll in, pick up a couple of attractive DVD covers, read the back, and take one home. If you don't like 'em, return it and try someone else.
Ken, should I be patenting/copyrighting/suing for rights for this brilliant concept?

Overheard at Lunch

One guy tells another about a date he had the previous evening:

Guy 1: Was she hot?
Guy 2: Dude, she was like oak.

Is this a tree reference? I'm not getting the parallel between "hot" and "oak," unless said wood has been set afire. I must research this further...

brave new undergarments

Ken, do you think people will believe in us, like Santa Claus, The Easter Bunny, or that Missing Kidney After Waking Up In A Bed Of Ice?