PTSOTL: December 2010

Thursday, December 30, 2010

Why hating New Year's means you actually hate yourself

“I suspect a good number of people hate New Year's for the same reason they hate Christmas or Thanksgiving,” my tight bro Kid Nice, aka Mint E. Fresh, told me when I asked him to chime in on why NYE blows.

“It forces them to socially interact with people radically different from themselves, i.e. people that would be starkly out of place in the Holiday Hater's clique of friends, or that would embarrass the H.H. at a party. This socially untouchable caste may include parents, uncles and other 'squares,' but especially unfashionable acquaintances or friends the H.H. knew before college, or people who resemble them in dress and speech. When members of this caste are drunk it amplifies the H.H.'s discomfort.”

Shit. He may be onto something here. So how does that relate to going home for the holidays, I wondered?

READ THE REST OF THE THING>>

Fining a rich dude $50,000

"Brett Favre, when he was Jenn Sterger's age, NFL draft day 1918.

Our old buddy D. Jean Mustard checks in with this bullshit that's on the minds of sports fans this week, especially the ones who've been forced to think way too much about a 40 year old man's gray dick this football season.

The NFL made it clear what kind of message they were sending this week when it came to dealing with the Brett Favre/Jenn Sterger case, and that message is, man, Brett Favre is awesome! Perhaps they were just staying on brand with what literally every television announcer smashes you over the face with anytime Brett Favre is on a teevee screen. Just not sure. For those who don't follow sports (broads, intellectual types), Brett Favre decided to un-retire for 3rd or 4th time back in 2008 and was signed by the NY Jets. The NY Jets had a pretty lady who appeared on television for them. Brett Favre, tried to woo this pretty lady by sending her unwanted shots of his penis via text message. He also left her some voicemails. Surprisingly, the pretty lady didn't want to bone a dude who was old enough to be her dad. She also didn't report him, but eventually word got out when the website Deadspin got a hold of the pictures and then all of America saw America's QB masturbating in a pair of plastic shoes, forcing the NFL to investigate.

What happened next + boobz after the thing:

READ THE REST OF THE THING>>

Wednesday, December 29, 2010

Shut 'er down: 'virgin' bikini waxing exists

That's it, I'm calling it. We've had a good run. See you guys at the exit interview in space or whatever happens when you die, because I just blew my brains out and my corpse is typing this out of muscle memory.

This is from a while back, but you'll have to forgive me, I've fallen a little behind on my child-based grooming trends reading. Haven't we all though? I've got a pile of unread Exfoliating for Tweens on my night stand next to like seven years worth of Harper's back issues.

Via this one librarian broad I know, via Gothamist, via six months ago comes this vein-burster:

MSNBC has a long trend-piece about how increasingly younger girls are getting bikini waxing. How young? Well, Wanda Stawczyk, who runs Wanda's European Skin Care on West 57th Street, offers discounts for clients as young as 8, and she says pre-teen business is booming, telling the Post that "in 10 years waxing children will be like taking them to the dentist or putting braces on their teeth." Her company’s website says it all:

WAITWHATTHEFUCK?

READ THE REST OF THE THING>>

Obnoxious kid is obnoxious

via

Any chance we can arrange for this kid to sit next to this guy on his next flight?

READ THE REST OF THE THING>>

PTSOTL Gentle-man of the day

punk kids won't listen

Come on, news reports and websites I steal ideas from, does the gentle-man pictured above really look like the type to get angry enough to punch a teenager for not turning off his iPhone on a plane? Why yes, he looks exactly like that as a matter of fact. Actually, you're right. Thank you. Don't mention it.

So let's say the chief of police called me down to the station, to, I dunno, give the boys some pointers on how to fight crime and whip their abs into shape on a tight schedule, then the sketch artist pulled me aside for help on the composite he was working on in the case of a grumpy old man versus the world, it would probably look something like this:

Because that's just kind of bad ass. You can't really argue with flames on a hockey mask made of human skin and black holes for eyes. After that we'd go down to the local cop bar and drink Irish whiskey until we puked and end up Irish wrestling around on the ground for a while, but out of Irish friendship, you see? Cause we've got Irish history and we've been through a lot together. After all of that I'd probably talk him through a perp sketch that looked 100% like that old dude up there. Then we'd solve the case and I'd probably go home and bang my reluctantly loyal Irish wife. I'm sort of losing track of the point of this post, but if you'll follow me over there, I think we'll get to the bottom of it.

READ THE REST OF THE THING>>

Occasional music content: Jamzpotz of the day Glass Vaults

Oh nothing, just listening to my new favorite song all day.

A conversation with a friend I had just now (He types in blue because he's sad.)

FRIEND: One listen -- got that Glass Vaults jam in my head.

ME: total brain invader innit?

FRIEND: Instant.

~FIN~

Tuesday, December 28, 2010

Bold new advances in cracker science

How's that old saying go? "No one ever went bankrupt underestimating the gullibility of the American consumer"? There's a lesser known corollary to that nugget of wisdom, however, which goes a little something like this: "These companies think we're fucking retards, and they're right."

Consider, if you will, this new product here:

It's Town House's new TOPPERS cracker. "The cracker built for topping!" The cracker has a ridge, which you can see here if you'll look closely. The purpose of the ridge is so that, I don't know, you don't slop cheese all over your tits when waving your flippers toward your cracker hole?

How uncoordinated are we supposed to be in the eyes of these fat cats over at Town House? It's basically a cracker with training wheels. I have no idea who this is designed for. Hubris-empowered cracker dippers so drunk on their own cheese architecture ambitions that they flew too close to the sun and got burned one too many times? Blind peperoni enthusiasts? Racist black gay dudes in the seventies? (Think about it for a minute.)

My merry band of Christmas douchebags were perplexed. See the rest after the thing.

READ THE REST OF THE THING>>

We have friends

My man Walt has a . It is funny. That's pretty much the entirety of this post, so...I dunno. What else is new with you guys? That's cool. Pretty cold out huh?

Oh right, like I was saying. He's got a couple of different recurring bits that are gold, like these mismatched quotations:

"I must not fear. Fear is the mind-killer. Fear is the little-death that brings total obliteration."

-- Mr. Belvedere

"Who gives a shit?"

-- Gandhi

“Pathetic earthlings. Hurling your bodies out into the void, without the slightest inkling of who or what is out here. If you had known anything about the true nature of the universe, anything at all, you would’ve hidden from it in terror.”

-- Corinthians 1:3

"If you can conceive it and believe it you can achieve it."

-Adolf Hitler

Monday, December 27, 2010

Occasional music content: New electronic bullshitting guide

via

We're snowed in here, and my girlfriend has been watching downloads of "Skins" all day on the computer, so there's fuck all else to do. Might as well turn an email thread only of interest to me into a blog post.

I usually feel like I have a pretty good grasp of what the fuck is going on, but you can never be sure in this age of made up trend names and phony sub-sub-sub genres, so I asked my one DJ buddy who reads the List for an impromptu tutorial on the brand new esoteric electronic shits I'm supposed to be able to talk about now. I still don't have a clue, but I do know that this Girl Unit Wut is blasting my dome off, so go check it out yesterday if you haven't already.

Here's the rest of the shit I'm going to pretend to like for the next few months based on his recommendations:

READ THE REST OF THE THING>>

Put this snow on the list

fuck. you.

I'm changing the name of this blog today. Same acronym though, so don't worry about getting your PTSOTL tattoos changed or anything because that would be a whole thing. Next time I'm talking shit about Alameda or Aukland or Tatooine or whatever desert town a lot of you people live in, remind me about this picture I just took from my front steps. Then punch me in the balls and call me a fag, because that's how I can tell we're really tight bros.

Oh, hey, remember This Old Widower Who Lives Behind Me and Talks to His Little Dog Like a Person All Day? That's him right there, shoveling the shit out of his driveway. Good shoveling buddy! The fucking dog -- who never listens! -- is predictably chilling inside, not pulling his weight around the house. Dogs, am I right?

Watch a pretty amazing time lapse video of last night's blizzard after the jump:

READ THE REST OF THE THING>>

Sunday, December 26, 2010

Strippers with spinning rims

worst strip club ever

Jess is a bartender at my jamspot Temple Bar in Cambridge, but she also writes a blog about what a pain in the ass it is dating and/or boning people in the Spacebook age or something. I dunno, I just look at the pictures. Because I'm illiterate. And sexist.

She also writes a dating column in Worcester Magazine, and she was telling me about basically being called a slut in another publication in Worcester by some bitch ass hater. Worcester is where I went to college by the way. It's the birthplace of the diner, home to like ten good colleges as well as like ten thousand even better junkies, none of which I ever saw because my campus was like a fucking castle that kept out the poors with a moat of shame. Also a literal moat.

I asked her to share her story with you ~~good~~ adequate people. She talks about ass fucking at some point, so stick around:

I’ve been using my boobs and ass to sell alcohol for years. When someone asked me to use them to save lives, I thought, of course my breasts should work for a better cause.

A bone-marrow registry hired models to recruit donors. It was a secret: we’ve been standing around shopping malls, Fenway Park, Gillette Stadium, etc. in neon blue wigs for over a year. People are having heart attacks now because the registry overcharged some insurance companies. But according to Dianne Williamson in The Worcester Telegram, my boobs helping people with cancer are the real issue....

READ THE REST OF THE THING>>

Saturday, December 25, 2010

Merry Christmas!

Such an emotional day for all of us, what with the looking at each other all day, and sitting in the same room as other people we're related to. It's sort of hard to put things in words. Instead I'll just try to capture the real meaning of Christmas in pictures.

READ THE REST OF THE THING>>

Baby It's Cold Outside

I really can't stay - Baby it's cold outside
I've got to go away - Baby it's cold outside

Ahhhh, Christmas. Classic songs like this always put me in the holiday spirit. Hearkens back to simpler, date-rapier times.

We get it dude, it's winter and it's cold. It was probably cold when she came over, but, and maybe I'm misreading the dozen or so times she says she wants to get the fuck out, I'm starting to get the idea she doesn't want to bang you. Call me a radical liberal feminazi or whatever, but that's just my reading. I'm not too good with interpreting all of the subtle social cues of the mating process though, so I could be off here. Let's see how this plays out...

My mother will start to worry - Beautiful, what's your hurry
My father will be pacing the floor - Listen to the fireplace roar

She lives with her parents dude. How old is this chick anyway? Maybe, I don't know, give her a call tomorrow? Make plans for the weekend? Streets should be plowed by then I'm guessing.

READ THE REST OF THE THING>>

Thursday, December 23, 2010

Stressing Out About Buying People Shit They Don't Want or Need in Time for Christmas

How else will they know you love them?

image

People are still sending Christmas cards

#PTSOTLretrochristmas begins! Because what better captures the spirit of Christmas than re-posting old blog entries from last season so you can fuck off more efficiently all week? Our old buddy D. Jean Mustard is still getting lots of Christmas cards he doesn't want. Here's why:

Sort of a theme here to Christmas week. That's what we call branding, and according to the boss' last memo, we have to keep doing it so bear with us. That said, at what point did all of my friends, and I do mean literally all of them, start sending Christmas cards? Up until about age twenty-whatever I don't think I got a single fucking card except from my aunt and my grandma. Now my box is overflowing with this bullshit. Not that I don't appreciate the sentiment, but Christmas cards are a bit like a high five. Not something you want to do, but you don't want your friend to feel like an asshole either. Sort of a gut-check on your List detector.

So, here I am filling out Christmas cards for no reason other than obligation. Well, my lady is handling... Wait a goddamned second! Since we all got domesticated, that's when this bullshit train started!

I guess my buddy Dave who once shit out of a 3rd floor window in college is in a way genuinely wishing me Christmas cheer, but most likely it's because his wife told him he'd better do it and like it. Anyway, my bird is awesome and totally taking one for the team here, but at the same time she's taking an active role in perpetuating this bullshit. Guess we're even there. Hope you like our card. We don't have any bratty kids, but just picture the kids we'll never have doing something really cute and throw that memory right on your brain's fridge where it can sit for a few weeks before tossing it out. Merry Christmas!

Occasional space filling content

Couple things from around the world (Boston is the world, right?) wot I made words about today.

This service, TurningArt is like Netflix for art prints.

Jason Gracilieri, founder of TurningArt, at his Cambridge offices. (Yoon S. Byun/Globe Staff)

If you use Netflix the way a lot of people do — never quite getting around to returning the DVDs for a week or two after you’re done with them — the sight of those red envelopes can be an eyesore. But what if the rental was something that you didn’t mind keeping around, and actually wanted to look at? What if it was a piece of art? That’s the idea behind TurningArt, a Central Square-based start-up that allows customers to select art prints from an online catalog for display at home, and then exchange them for other prints. Jason Gracilieri, 33, founded the company. It’s his fourth start-up (his most successful was an early social networking site called Sconex, which he sold off). We asked him to explain how TurningArt works and why he believes he can do for art what the wine industry did for vino: make a luxury good accessible to everyone. Read the rest at Boston Globe

Then I really held myself back from making too many Italian American jokes in a review of Strega Waterfront. Meh.

NICOLAUS CZARNECKI/METRO

...True to that high-end feel, the cocktails featured here tend toward the aspirational, flashy downtown Boston style. A few too many are of the flavored vodka persuasion, but they are made with care by McKanas and company. With so many herbal Italian liqueurs appearing in cocktails lately — Aperol, Cynar, Fernet, Maraschino and the like — working with these would seem to be a better, natural match to the hearty and rich, if pricey, Italian cooking. The wine list is extensive, with robust reds like the Terrabianca Campaccio Super Tuscan or the Elio Grasso “Gavarini “Nebbiolo standing out. It’s a good match for the vibe here. Read the rest in the Metro

Wednesday, December 22, 2010

Occasional music content = best records of the year list

Remember that post right below this one from yesterday where I got interviewed about being a "freelance journalist"? It's right down there. Take a look.

One of the questions was: "Ever had an occasion where you were supposed to cover an event but just got piss drunk and missed the scoop?" I would like to amend my answer to "Yes, today. Because I am not writing shit for this website." Fuck it, I'm laying on the couch by the Christmas tree and watching the first bad movie I can find on Netflix streaming.

Meanwhile, on the other side you can read my top ten records of the year from the Phoenix and my most memorable music moments in Boston this year from Dig Boston.

READ THE REST OF THE THING>>

Tuesday, December 21, 2010

WTF Does A Freelance Journalist Do All Day?

My man Arv from Street Carnage interviewed me for the other site we both write for, Platform, using the format of the series I do for SC. That's meta, I think.

Go read it over there.

Platform readers may be familiar with Luke O’Neil’s helpful advice articles, like How To Have A Long Term Relationship and How to Throw a Bachelor Party (aka How to Throw Away Your Long-Term Relationship). But over at Street Carnage, Luke does a regular column called WTF Does a [insert occupation here] Do All Day? where he explains to SC readers what normal people with real jobs do every day.

It’s an insightful series that helps to remind us that not everyone spends their days getting trashed and “working” on their “projects” and that some people actually contribute to society in a useful way. Anyway, on one of Luke’s WTF posts a reader asked, in true smart-ass SC commenter style, what a journalist does all day. Luke was too classy to take the bait. I’m not, so I asked Luke to explain how he pays the bills doing, well, this: READ THE REST AT PLATFORM

Monday, December 20, 2010

Jewish Sharks vs. Drunk Serbs TO THE DEATH

Go read it at Street Boners and TV Carnage

Despite what the breaking stories on the local news and your 12-year-old cousin might tell you, shark attacks are a relatively rare occurrence throughout the world. The total number of attacks observed between 1990 — 2008 is a measly 843, which is roughly equivalent to the number of times you hear about it on the TV in one week whenever it happens. I grew up near Cape Cod with a natural fear of sharks, because, well Jaws. I used to be scared to even go in a swimming pool before I did a thorough check to ensure there weren’t any sharks lurking around — but then again I was a giant pussy as a kid and I used to swim with my t-shirt on so no one would see my kid-boobs.

READ THE REST OF THE THING>>

Actually, fuck it, this is the real meaning of CHRIST-MAS

Because making fun of Christians is the bold move this year.

An astute List reader has just opened my eyes to the realer, truer, purer meaning of Christmas, so never mind what I said about those Mohammedan ballers and their tree of power below. Like Ebeneezer Scrooge and George Bailey and Charlie Brown and all of the other heroes of seasonal affective disorder, and morality-based epiphany, my eyes have been opened, and not just because they've got glare sores all over them now from looking at this mess. You there boy, fetch me a Christmas ham, I'm going to need the Lord's sustenance to finish what I usually like to think of as the Lord's blog posting. Find out what American Jesus really believes in after the thing.

READ THE REST OF THE THING>>

This right here, this is the true meaning of Christmas

yonder star, like a sick diamond for your grill piece

I don't remember what Christmas was supposed to mean when it was first invented because I stopped going to bible classes around age 14 when they wouldn't let me wear an earring. True story. Sad but true. If I've picked up anything in the intervening years since that formative moment in my spiritual and fashion development, I can surmise a thing or two about its real meaning, which is the following: blinged out motherfucking trees of gold and diamonds put up by Muslims. Like this one

"It is the 'most expensive Christmas tree ever,' with a 'value of over 11 million dollars,' said Hans Olbertz, general manager of Emirates Palace hotel." via

More details all up in over there --->

READ THE REST OF THE THING>>

Saturday, December 18, 2010

Tour the post-apocalypse. Bring the kids!

images via

Go read it at Platform.

I like imagining what life in a post-apocalyptic landscape would be like as much as the next guy who got his first taste of pre-pubescent boner from an X-Men comic book but I'm not necessarily interested in, you know, seeing what it looks like up close and personal. Wait, that didn't sound right. Ah, fuck it, you know what I mean. Anyway, I'd rather observe from a safe distance called reality, and see what people think it might be like on film and in books. Plus I just don't really look good in dusty brown trench coats or football pads with spikes on them, but I've got a lot of weird fashion rules I limit myself to, so that could just be my thing.

Good news though, nerds, it looks like you may have the chance to finally make your dream come true. Not the one about catching a waft of Sasha Grey's taint, although keep hope alive, it could totally happen. I mean you can teleport your meat suit into the scene of a post-nuclear nightmare. They're getting ready to open what's sure to be the sketchiest theme park in history in the Ukraine next year at a little place called Chernobyl, io9 reported today, from a report of another report, which I am reporting here because that's how the internet works. Details on the other side.

READ THE REST OF THE THING>>

Friday, December 17, 2010

And then his entire family was arrested

This right here is essentially how I feel trying to write this blog most days.

So you want to be a journalist?

Tip of the hat to Dig Boston for their tip of the hat to XtraNormal. It's funny because it explains why my life is a joke. Now if you'll excuse me I'm going to go take one more look at my student loan statement before doing a sailor dive off my back porch. Tell me my parents it wasn't their fault. Mostly.

In which I use a live review of a band to talk about myself

I get it

Because that's what music journalism is, right?

Weezer performed their two classic albums, the Blue Album and Pinkerton on back to back nights here in Boston. I went to both. I sang the whole time. I almost cried a few times. I am a total dork. Tell me how bad my taste is in the comments.

Night 1:

If I was putting together a list of bands that were most influential in my life, Weezer would be right up there at the top. But like a lot of original fans, the band as I knew it just doesn't really exist anymore in the way that someone you've broken up with after a long romance doesn't exist anymore. I mean, yes, they obviously still exist, but the thing between you doesn't. You aren't a couple anymore, you're two distinct entities piloting your ridiculous bodies around the world unconnected. When you bump into them from time to time seeing all the bad decisions they've made in the intervening years it further erases the memory. Read the rest at the Boston Phoenix

Night 2:

When Weezer released “Pinkerton’’ in 1996, it was considered a failure by almost any metric. But for a generation of bands that formed in its endearingly awkward wake, Rivers Cuomo’s perfect document of imperfect longing served as a blueprint for the type of strident and yearning pop punk that was soon ascendant. By then Weezer had mostly moved on, with Cuomo, the band’s evil genius sentencing himself to an eternity of goofy hit-making penance. Read the rest at the Boston Globe

Thursday, December 16, 2010

The end of the military as we know it

Wellllp, I guess this settles it. Now that the House has approved the repeal of Don't Ask Don't Tell (which aside from being a really great potential name for a suburban screamo band's new album is also one of the biggest pieces of entrenched discrimination still left in this ~~great~~ ~~proud~~ above average nation), everyone is going to quit the military and we'll be leaving ourselves vulnerable to hoards of marauding villains like Chinamen and Magneto and gym queens from West Hollywood.

Right Wing Watch (via Crooks and Liars) has the details, which I'm just gonna go ahead and paste at length, because it's all too good to miss.

READ THE REST OF THE THING>>

The damp panties of American political discourse

via The Daily What

See what I was saying about this whole attempt to discredit the mission of WikiLeaks by maligning Julian Assange's character? I guess the message here now is, what, Assange is a bleeding cunt?

Wait, that's a tampon, right? Or is this an ad for some new type of white banana airplane vibrator I haven't heard about yet? The picture is kind of hard to make out.

How do you say hamburger in Irish?

Back in the early days of the List we used to have a lot of other contributors, but then they all quit or forgot how to be funny or died off like a sad herd of space dinosaurs from the moon. I think it was really because they were all jealous of my bench pressing max, which I would send them email updates about every other day. Our old buddy decided to come out of retirement to complain about the new McDonald's commercial. He complains real good most of the time, but apparently he's too good to use his real name on this shit and dick joke blog anymore. Take it away, anonymous friend:

READ THE REST OF THE THING>>

Wednesday, December 15, 2010

Modern American commerce is something something

Slow news day, aside from that school board shooter dude, and the fact that my feet are really cold today. What's up with winter? It's too cold is what's up. That's real talk. I suppose Gawker's user accounts all being hacked is still a big deal on the internet, but I'm not worried about it personally. The only thing they might have gotten out of me is my fantasy football password, and if any hackers out there want to take a crack at running my miserable team (Eli Manning is my starting QB) then please feel free. Couldn't do any worse than me.

Been a pretty good day vis a vis awesome press releases winding up in my inbox though. I got a couple of these today and just had to run over here and share them with you guys, since I know you're all looking for holiday gift ideas and what not. I trust you'll put these to good use. One's for a Bruse [sic] Lee Fathead. "The industry leader in officially licensed sports and entertainment graphics, is celebrating the life of a legend." About time, right?!

people put this on their wall

This year marks Bruce Lee’s 70^th Anniversary and Fathead is offering the Bruce Lee Fathead in 5 different sizes and poses, all on one Real.Big Fathead sheet for an unbelievable all-in-one collection. The main image of Martial Arts Master and originator of Jeet Kune Do, stands coiled ready to strike in one of his dynamic and iconic poses. In all fans, practitioners and followers get 9 amazing images.

Noted. Speaking of things we've all been waiting for

Celebrating Beauty in All Shapes and Sizes, Sonsi’s Drink Packs a Pleasing Plus-Size Punch

BENSALEM Pa. (Dec. 15, 2010) – This holiday season’s newest women’s fashion accessory is a cocktail that packs a plus-size punch! The Sonsi-tini, which made its debut at Full Figured Fashion Week™ in New York last June and quickly gained a following among Plus-Size fashionistas from coast-to-coast as the curvy woman’s Cosmo, is finding its place on the holiday party scene.

God help you if you actually want to go read the full releases after the jump thing, but it's your life dude. I'll see you over there with a special treat.

READ THE REST OF THE THING>>

I always preferred 'Beautiful Girls' myself

This whole thing makes me sad on a couple of different levels, not least of which is the fact that people feel compelled to do stupid shit like this when they're down on their luck. Also that people are walking around that fat in the world. Jesus dude. Also, remind me if I ever go on a suicide mission to right injustice or whatever not to get my inspiration from a Natalie Portman film. Thanks in advance.

From CNN:

Clay Duke sat quietly through the first portion of the Bay District Schools, Florida, school board meeting Tuesday afternoon as local children were honored for their achievements.

When it came time for citizens to bring up issues, the 56-year-old resident calmly approached the front.

He spray painted a red "V" with a circle around it on the wall, brandished a small-caliber handgun and ordered the room cleared at a Panama City schools building.

"Six men stay. Everyone else leave," the burly gunman said.

From there, things do not go so well. You can watch the video and see for yourself. Either this guy is a really bad shot, or as some reports are suggesting, his gun was loaded with blanks. I wonder how long it will be before liberals start branding him a Tea Party psycho, and they'll return the favor by saying he's a liberal who was looking for a hand out from the big bad rich people. Woops, that's already going on everywhere. Watch the video over there ---->

READ THE REST OF THE THING>>

Tuesday, December 14, 2010

Self promotion is a thing

Our friends over at Boston Band Crush asked me to contribute a few top ten lists of the year in music. Included is my nomination for the truest sign ever, seen here at Great Scott in Allston. Go check out the rest, plus a bunch of other cool lists there.

Michelle Crowley's bit

The nice folks over at The Feast asked me what I wanted for Christmas, which is very nice of them. I forgot to send them my address though, so I guess we'll have to meet up in person for me to collect. Here's what I said.

Repeatedly gluing my broken glasses back together has given me kind of a fresh look (poor street fighter who likes to read), but being able to see is going to be a hot trend this year. Vintage Eyeglasses Online has some cool options. Locally, Eye Q Optical has frames I'd like to see myself in, if you know what I mean. The Feast

Here's the one where I tell you how to not fuck up your punch recipes for a holiday party. I'm like Martha Stewart with a slightly hairier back over here.

Holiday party at your place, dude. I've got some bad news though. First of all, I apologize in advance for spilling cheese dip all over the couch. Second, and more importantly, I'm going to have to request that you up your drinking options from last year's bland spread. It's not enough to just throw a few bottles of off-brand vodka and gas-station wine on the counter beside a bucket of ice....

Rule #1: Don't run out of booze. No booze = no friends. That's one recipe you can count on. A fairly good formula is that one gallon of punch works out to about 30 five-ounce servings, so consider your guest list and make the appropriate calculations. Of course, if your friends are anything like my group of ornery winos, you might be better off hiding the punch under lock and key and doling that stuff out like a stingy soup-kitchen staffer. STUFF

Here's the one where I went to a Dashboard Confessional show as a man in his thirties. Don't judge, the 2000s were a very emotional time for me you guys.

You may have noticed emo music fans walking around with a little extra mope in their step lately. Cut them some slack. A spate of shows from venerable acts — including the Get Up Kids’ Matt Pryor last week, and Weezer, who will perform their seminal “Pinkerton’’ album on Wednesday — is probably opening up a lot of long-lost musical and romantic wounds. Boston Globe

Here's a thread where I tell everyone I walked out of a screening of Tron last night, and all of my friends were instantly bummed the fuck out to hear how much it blows.

Here's the one where it really looks like I was tripping balls at SSLLOOWW at Middlesex from the Boston Phoenix.

Photo: KELSEY MARIE BELL

Monday, December 13, 2010

WTF DOES A GUY WHO WORKS AT A MUSEUM DO ALL DAY?

Last week I checked in with a guy who works at the mall about what it’s like dealing with the worst people on Earth day in and day out. This other guy I know has a similar-seeming job at a museum popular among tourists and school groups. Museums like his are pretty much the same thing as malls, with their roving bands of feral wolf-children, old people killing time before the end of the road and a lot of escalator drama, apparently. I figured it would be pretty much the same story. Turns out I was right. OR WAS I? (I was.) Read the rest at Street Carnage

Real quick question

Awwww, look at these good little fellows. It's true love! Or is it?

"A meerkat and a squirrel make for strange bedfellows, but in a quiet corner of a South African animal sanctuary they were having a ball," writes the Daily Mail. "And judging by the serene expression of the meerkat's face, he rather enjoyed the attention of his pen friend as night-time fell."

Real quick though, does it still count as bestiality if it's two animals involved in the boning?

"[The photographer] didn't manage to discover the true nature of of the animals' relationship but was delighted with the picture of cosy creature comforts."

One more question real quick: How the hell did he suppose he was going to discover that?

I'd like to think this is the true meaning of Christmas

You thought your little pussy ass nativity scene was an adequate expression of worship? How about a Christmas celebration that is IN YOUR FACE? Giant livestock in costumes, thundering angel music, flashing lights...other weird shit! Hard to figure out why the camel here freaked the fuck out.

Lula Bell the camel wasn't expected to be all anyone was talking about after First Baptist Church's Christmas pageant dress rehearsal on Thursday evening.

But when a 1,000-pound animal and its rider topple into the pews, it's impossible not to take notice. Sun Sentinel

Seriously though *laces up white high tops* What is the deal with these church services nowadays? Kneel down, stand up, sit down, kneel again? And then the camel is all... Fuck it, I'm done. Anyone sitting there? Oh there is? Whatever, I'm two thousand pounds.

Watch the video over on the other side. Although, fair warning, once you get there you may never want to come back.

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The Ethical Scumbag

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