Thursdunst

By popular demand...



Thoughts on the outfit?

This Is The World We Live In

As previously discussed, it's my job to inform you of the latest Genesis/Phil Collins news. Today's alert comes via Stereogum: Disturbed has covered "Land of Confusion". Stereogum has the mp3 (and the dialogue from the related scene in American Psycho), so I downloaded and listened.

Let's just say I didn't make it to the end of the song, and it's now resting in the ol' recycle bin.

Anthropomorphic Genitalia

I don't have anything to say tonight, but there is good news.

You can watch a video that features a talking penis (voiced by Amy Sedaris).

The Other Archives - Love Song

Excerpt of an old e-mail Paul sent:

as for the cure lyric that i stole, i'm going to have to first give some background on the situation. this freshman girl who i had been seeing for like 2 weeks was over one night and she was in a really bad mood. it was fairly early in the school year, and she was really homesick. so, being the consolation type of guy that i am, i was telling her that alot of people get homesick. in my mind, i was really thinking "how can anyone be homesick? college is the best situation you'll ever have." then, the following dialogue occurred, as best as i can remember:

Her: "Do you ever get homesick?"
Me: (Lying like there's no tomorrow) "Sometimes."
Her: "What makes you feel better?"
Me: "You, because when i'm with you, it makes me feel like i'm home again."

when i told my friends the next day, they almost couldn't believe that i had stooped that low. since then, i've tried to decide if it's more pathetic that i used that line or that she went for it. also, i find it amazing that i was able to get that out without laughing.

Creepo Deluxe

Yahoo Personals Guy: what's your fucking deal?

Make Me Sick

Tornado Slide took a sick day yesterday, just like its creator!

As a young adult, I used to get sick about once per year. Since 2005 rolled over, I've been sick at least thrice. I guess that means the immunosuppressive drugs are working. Hooray!

Once, when I was a wee child in grade school, my mother decided I was too sick to attend class. I threw an epic tantrum, throwing my pillow about my bedroom, and screaming (this quote I recall verbatim), "I WANT TO GO TO SCHOOL BUT SHE WON'T LET ME!!!"

If you'd like more proof regarding my "odd child" status, you can ask me about the days I spent revering a Christmas card that told the story of the Little Drummer Boy.

Rum pa pum pum

They're Breakdance Fighting!

The Dynamic Steppers, a local drill team, was practicing routines at McAdams Park near 13th and I-135 on Saturday night when members of another drill team, the White Tigers, showed up and challenged the others to what was described as a "dance-off," police said.

I don't want to ruin it for you, but there's a box cutter involved.

On the bright side, this gives me the perfect excuse to put up another photo of Ms. Dunst.

[Jesus. I just spent 30 minutes looking for a suitable screen shot of Kirsten in a cheerleading uniform, and all I've found is crap. I feel empty inside.]

[9/21 UPDATE! After more searching, I've settled on this picture from Wimbledon, a Dunst film I have never seen. I'm still angry that they didn't title the picture Love, Love.]

My Nappy Roots

I was soooo tired from the wedding weekend that I took a nap yesterday afternoon. It was my first nap in a long, long time. Today I tried to remember precisely when I last took a nap. My best guess: Summer, 2000.

Did I set some sort of record?

Wedding Bliss

Brian and Kelly,

Thanks for the fun wedding weekend. Please note that I neglected to attach a card to my gift - mine is the iron and the toothpick dispenser. The gift receipt for the iron is included. I'm afraid you're stuck with the toothpick dispenser.

Jack Serpentine,

Thanks for laughing at the following exchange:

BRIDESMAID: "C'mon! You have to come dance!"

ME: "Well, okay...but I'm going to grind on you pretty hard."

Other bridesmaid,

Thanks for letting me know that your mom thinks I'm "adorable". Again, I'm sorry if my inquiry re: her marital status was offensive.

V,

Thanks for your help in getting me drunk. You have a gift.

Dave, Dustin, Curtis, Ashley, et al,

Thanks for the Neil Diamond tribute show. You guys nailed it. I'm still reeling. Can't wait for the next one.

Other Brian,

Thanks for driving. It took 26 years, but we finally experienced a time when I was less sober than you.

Until Monday

Bachelor party and wedding this weekend - no new posts until it's all over. V has a more detailed explanation.

While I'm away, let's comment about Reese Witherspoon. It's the best topic I can come up with, because she's on Letterman as I type. I'm just looking around the room. I love lamp.

I find Reese's appearance alternatively adorable and terrifying. It's not nearly as bad as the Drew Barrymore level of hot and cold, but it's there. For me, anyway.

On the last day of seventh grade, we watched The Man in the Moon on VHS. Sam Waterson and Jason London also star. It's pretty dope. Classic coming-of-age tale.

My favorite Reese movie is Election. My favorite quote from that movie is, "Shit, that was a fun party!" uttered by the otherwise hated, narrating Chris Klein.

My friend Pete once returned from a screening of Cruel Intentions at the KSU student union in a poor mood, as the movie does not show tit one.

One night Steph and I had grand, cultured plans to see Waking Life at the indie theater in Minneapolis, but we ended up going to see Legally Blonde at the second-run, dollar theater across the street from her place.

Rabbit Fever (Also Known As Tularemia)

Fred Weber checks out a rabbit at the rabbit barn at the Kansas State Fair in Hutchinson, Friday. Weber, who is superintendent of the rabbit show, has worked with rabbits at the fair for 50 years.

When I saw this in the Topeka newspaper today, I thought, "That man looks exactly like someone that has superintendend rabbits for fifty years."

* * *

Gizmodo is easily my favorite Gawker website. Visiting Gizmodo is like going to The Sharper Image or Brookstone, only you don't have to weave through a dozen kids fighting over a chance to sit in the vibrating chairs. Gizmodo will tell you all about crazy crap, attractive crap, and crap that you secretly wish you had. It will also tell you what the iPod has in common with a bathtub.

Show Me The Way

Three years ago, if you'd told me that I would be explaining the history of Peter Frampton's voice box (and his resultant, deserved spot in rock history) on my drive home from work to a middle-aged, Jew-Catholic convert that shares my carpool, I don't know if I'd believe you. Moreover, I don't know if I'd want to kill myself or not.

And I still don't.

[On a side note, one of my favorite moments from Arrested Development's second season was when Gob recorded an album with his controversial black puppet, Franklin. The album was called "Franklin Comes Alive", and the cover art mimicked "Frampton Comes Alive" with hilarious results.]

Too True, Twain

"That's one of the only things that I disagree with Mark Twain on."

--guy at Vermont Street BBQ last Monday, talking golf with his buddy

Goofy Glam

I hate these things.

It's an odd fashion statement to make. If you look better with sunglasses that take up half of your face, it's probably a bad sign.

Little Trouble In Big China

Driving home today, I saw a guy driving a Toyota Prius with flames on the side. And you thought the previous two posts were about pussies. (rimshot)

I think we all miss Matt and his hilarious text messages. As a public service, I pass on some of his messages from China. Note that Matt has not given me permission, but he's in China, so what's he gonna do about it?

Saturday, September 3rd

I have been in Shanghai for about two days now. There is a new Australian girl in my room. Not sure about her yet, she was sleeping. An old lady yelled at me when I came into the room at 7:30 PM and turned on the light. I guess I didn't think anyone who would pay a shitload of money to come to China would go to bed at fucking 7:30. But then again, she is old. Met up with a British guy last night and had a couple pints of beer called Suntory. Its good. Not great. Thought you would like to know, for lunch I ate a peach. A peach as big as three of my fists. Remember that time I stuck three of my fists up your ass. Sounds impossible due to the fact that I only have two fists but as I recall you really fucking liked it, you dirty whore. Okay, I will write to you later.

Sunday, September 4th

Forgive poor spelling and grammar. I am at an Internet bar in the Fuxing district of Shanghai. It is just after midnight. I am with Will, a guy from the Netherlands and Alise (sp ?) from Paris. She is hot. I am fairly certain that Will is gay as I am 100% sure that we just left a gay bar that he said is his favorite and he knows everybody there.

Helpful hints:

1: What are listed "amenities" in the description of a hostel in Shanghai are bullshit unless it means: do not put toilet paper in the toilet as it will block it; security lockers means no security lockers, free internet means 2 RMB per 10 minutes; key card access means a chinese woman will let you into your room if and only if you show her a receipt.

2: What the amenities should say: Free lizards in every room; cheap beer; hot international women, shitty toilets.

Explanation about lizards:

Last night I went out with Will. At one point we had to go back to the hostel so he could take a shit. While there we met Alise and sat on the patio and had a few beers. Later we left, Alise stayed. In the morning I was awoken by Alise, who is also in my room, saying its time to go. This is the conversation as I remember it:

Alise: Matt, wake up.
Me: What?
Alise: Time to go to Pudong.
Me: What?
Alise: There is a lizard on your bed.
Me: Motherfucker! Get it off!
Alise: No.
Me: (after flicking lizard off my bed): Sleep.
Alise: You said you would take me to Pudong.
Me: When?
Alise: Now.
Me: No, when did I say this?
Alise: Last night.
Me: Was I serious?
Alise: Yes.
Me: I'll get up.

So we went to Pudong. Quite a ways from the hostel and not yet to Pudong, Alise says "I'm tired, lets take a break".

Me: No.
Alise: Please.
Me: (Didn't say anything, just gave her a look of disgust).
Alise: Oh look, shoes!!!
Me: You've got to be fucking kidding.

After visiting Pudong Alise needed a nap. Which I was all for. So I spoke with Will and we made plans for tonight. The plans included a really seedy bar with beers that cost about 17 cents and then we moved on to the internet/bar/snackbar place. We are leaving now to go to what is certainly a dirty, dirty bar/whorehouse.

Peace out fuckos

Matt

The Hair Down There

Heather and Tall Steph forwarded a NYT article that was relevant to my recent mention of the "landing strip":

"I do full body exams to check for skin cancer, and I can think of almost no female patients who come in with natural pubic hair," said Karyn Grossman, a dermatologist in Santa Monica, Calif., and New York City. "Either they have nothing left, or they have a small patch that is two inches by half an inch, but the trend is toward having it all gone."

I've taken a day to reflect on the subject (read: I tacked on another one or two thoughts about vaginas to my already cooch-heavy mindset) - here's my hard-hitting opinion.

I don't care.

But.

Let's say the snatch fairy jumped out of my fireplace and presented an ultimatum: "Choose your preference, and lo, from now until death, shall ye behold only this type of groomed honey pie." Forced to choose, I'll choose hair. Variety. Keeps things interesting. An unsurprising answer, perhaps, for a man that prefers his orange juice with pulp, but often buys pulp-free juice, too.

Naked Women Dancing For Money

I think there is a reason why I prefer small-breasted strippers. All the dancing, the pole climbing, the gyrating - breasts, like penises, are not meant to be seen flopping about during periods of physical exertion.

I had plenty of time to consider that fact Saturday; I thought about it at the first strip club we visited, and I thought about it at the second.

It was Laura's last night as a server at The Flamingo Club, and she invited us to come by and celebrate the occasion. I thought we were being spoiled when she arranged for us to enter without paying the $10 cover. That thought was confirmed after the club closed, when we were headed to The Outhouse with her, a now-clothed stripper Rachel, and a 30 pack of Coors Light Laura took from the bar.

The case of beer was an important addition to the evening's second leg. The Outhouse is open until 4 a.m., but the liquor stores are not. It's an unfortunate truth, especially considering The Outhouse is a BYOB strip club.

The stripper was an equally important enhancement. It was exciting. I don't love strippers, but I do love the idea of hanging out with strippers. If that seems a little childish or piggish, you'll have to excuse me - I'm a goddamn scientist, and this is exactly the sort of excitement that is not commonly afforded to my kind. This was the first time I had spent time with a stripper that was not Phil's cousin, and I was confident it would not end as that evening had, because there weren't any bass players around for this stripper to fuck.

If The Flamingo is HBO, The Outhouse is MTV. It's small, it's crowded, it's loud, and the sex surrounds you. There's a dancer on the main stage, there's a dancer on the back stage, there's the creepy guy with the microphone, announcing, encouraging. Most overwhelming, there's a dozen half-naked girls milling around on the floor, straddling laps and earning money by the song.

I'm looking at a stripper, I think, in order:

She is (naked, nearly naked).
She is (desirable, not desirable).
Her breasts are (large, small, perky, saggy, round, pointy, etc.).
I wonder how she is groomed.
She is gyrating in a suggestive manner.
This is done to sexually arouse myself and the other males.
It's probably a landing strip - it's usually a little strip.
She will be given money in exchange for our arousal.
This is the product of a capitalist society.
Yeah, there it is - it's a landing strip alright.
This is also the product of biology and instinct.
For one dollar, I could feel her boobs on my face.
My face has touched boobs before.
It was a lot cooler when it didn't cost a dollar.
I'd rather have the dollar, because we live in a capitalist society.

That's not to say that I didn't have a good time. I like girls, and I like dancing, naked girls, and I like watching the crazy pole tricks, and wondering how much practice it would take me to equal their moves. I especially like these things when they occur in the middle of a cornfield on the outskirts of town. I even like being reminded that life is basic, and we're not so evolved, and there are basic urges that need to be addressed for everyone.

But mostly I like the small tits that aren't all wobbly-bobbly.



[stripper]
[strip club]

Update Soon

This post will be replaced with a proper one tomorrow. You'll hear all about the strippers tomorrow.

Toasting The Couple

Every time I empty the dishwasher, I think about marriage.

The plates, the bowls, the forks, the glasses - all of it will have to be replaced, because married couples' dinnerware must match.

I'm headed to two weddings in the next few months. Both couples are in their mid-twenties. All four individuals have been lived on their own for years. Yet, somehow, they need new toasters.

Well, okay...they don't NEED the new toaster, but they placed the new toaster on their respective gift registries. Why? Do they hate their old toasters? Do they need a toaster that symbolizes their union - not your toaster, not my toaster - OUR toaster! The toaster that will feed our children!

These couples don't care about new toasters. They are victims of an outdated idea. Back in the day, when the 18 year-old man would marry the 16 year-old bride, the new couple needed stuff. They needed dinnerware because they didn't have any. They needed a toaster because they hadn't spent the last six years in dorms and apartments.

The age at which we marry has changed, but the gifts haven't. Instead of upgrading their toasters, we should be upgrading their TVs to plasma and their mattresses to that space foam stuff - gifts that the happy couples would much rather receive, gifts I'd much rather give. Of course, purchasing, wrapping and delivering such gifts to the reception would be terribly difficult.

So what's the solution? I don't know, but maybe I'll quit this gift registry game. Future couples can expect my gift to come in the form of a check - it won't be enough money to buy that plasma screen, but hopefully you'll use it for something more exciting and more necessary than a new toaster.