HE SAID: Marry/Fuck/Toss Round 3

May 15, 2009

Another round of Marry/Fuck/Toss to brighten up a Friday morning.

Jeremy’s three picks to marry, fuck, or toss off a cliff are: Salma Heyek, Halle Berry and Angelina Jolie.  And no, you can’t have sex with one before tossing her, Jeremy.  If you are looking for rules and round 1, click here.  For round 2, click here.marry-fuck-toss-selmahalleangelina

Well, I’ll tell you what I’d like to do…after David Ortiz left 12 men on base by himself in an extra innings loss, the Celtics blew a late lead forcing themselves into another Game 7, and the Bruins lost a game 7 in sudden death overtime (on a goal scored by someone who probably should’ve been suspended no less), I’d like to toss myself off a cliff, getting hit in the balls by every jutting rock and tree branch on the way down, because that would feel better than the way I feel right now.

But that is not an option, so instead I will force myself to choose amongst the three you have selected for me.  This is actually the easiest one you have presented me thus far, I’ll save the suspense: Jolie is getting cliffed, Berry is getting fucked, and I’ll marry Hayek.

The reasoning is quite simple – Salma Hayek was the first actress I saw explicitly nude on the big screen, in the movie “Desperado,” and I feel like I owe her for that.  I’d cook her breakfast in bed, get her anything she wants, so long as her breasts were uncovered for at least 75% of our marriage. 

I’d like the chance to spend an evening with Halle Berry, while having sex, but mostly I really want to discuss becoming her manager.  Whoever she currently has managed to turn an Oscar winning performance into Gothika and Catwoman, I figure I can pitch her the idea of managing her career, make a shit ton of money and get off at the same time!

Lastly, there is Jolie.  While I find her seductive and she would probably rock my world, she also probably rocked her brother’s world, and that’s just a bit too creepy for me.  And let’s not forget what she did to Jennifer Aniston.  I can picture it now, tossing Angelina off the cliff screaming “You ruined Rachel’s life you fucking bitch!”

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SHE SAID: Omegle

May 14, 2009

Omegle was started by an 18-year-old high school student who lives in Brattleboro, Vermont and the entire premise is online chatting … with a complete stranger.  When you start a chat, you are “you” and the person you’re chatting with is “stranger”.  Unless you dig for more details, you don’t get any.  No witty username, no icon, personalized font and color, nothing.  For a better understanding of this post – I suggest you click here to try it out or read this post for more information.

omegleWhile I get that an 18 year old in Vermont would find the idea of a stranger to talk to exciting, after spending some time on line doing “research”, I think I’m too old for Omegle.  Or, just not enough of a wing nut.

My favorite conversation went like this:

You: please don’t say something weird
Your conversational partner has disconnected.

I have so many meaningless conversations in a day, I’m usually aching for a meaningful one.  Between the countless encounters one has in a small town and the rushed nature of our day to day lives, I seldom find myself sitting with someone I care about talking about what really matters in either our lives or our world.  Going online to talk to someone I don’t know is yet another, and the chances of that conversation turning into something meaningful are even less.  Even if it were to become so, the randomness, the anonymity of it would nullify any authenticity.

So fine, this is supposed to be fake, fun, whatever it evolves into.  Let’s spend some time delving into the pointless.

When I first heard about Omegle and sent the link to my friends, we were in hysterics about some of the conversations.  Strangers would open with completely bizarre comments, sometimes a little scary, sometimes uncomfortable, you never knew what you were going to get.  While that is still the case, in the month or two that Omegle has been up, I find it has been taken over by salacious chatters who immediately get straight to the point: a/s/l (yes, I had to ask what that meant: age/sex/language) and one conversation went immediately to this:

Stranger: do u like sex?
Stranger: have u got a webcam?
Stranger: can i see u?
Stranger: please
You have disconnected.

It’s like a one night stand, only without foreplay, alcohol or the bad come on line and instead, pleading?

Now let’s add my teenage nieces have access to Omegle, as does … anyone.  Seem a little scary yet?

I get the ideal of why a conversation with a complete stranger would be refreshing and unique.  It’s like freshman year at college: you had the choice to be you, or the choice to start over and not be the nerd or bitch, or nerdy bitch in my case, that you were in high school.  Only, this is repeated conversations with strangers, repeated potential persona’s and the result reminds me of an experiment from a Psych 101 class.  When asked to write on a blank piece of paper what we would do if we were invisible for an entire day, almost all the answers were a variation on two things:  1. spy on women changing and 2. rob a bank.  Imagine hearing those answers read aloud 350 times.  It was funny, then staggering, then just plain old depressing.

Unfortunately, the reality of Omegle is an anonymous expanse in which it becomes depressingly clear how little people are actually interested in what we have to say to each other and how important a/s/l is once our pesky pretense at sincerity is no longer required or needed.

Like I said, I’m too old for this.


HE SAID: Omegle

May 14, 2009

You seem to be on a roll picking topics right now that I completely agree with you on.  I’m going to praise you for a second – you could not have said it better regarding Omegle.  So instead of reiterating what you said (albeit in a funnier way, because let’s face it, my wit far exceeds yours), I’m just going to post a few of my favorite conversations I had while “researching” this topic….sometimes I opened up with the following line to see the response, “I’ll be honest, Im a 27 year old male looking for fun.”

You’re now chatting with a random stranger. Say hi!

You: listen ill be honest…im 27, male, looking for fun
Stranger: cool im a 22 shemale also looking for fun
Stranger: wanna cyber

You have disconnected.

You’re now chatting with a random stranger. Say hi!

You: listen ill be honest, im a 27 year old male looking for fun
Stranger: oh god what is this
Stranger: oh
Stranger: hi
Stranger: I have a penis
You: PERFECT

You have disconnected.

You’re now chatting with a random stranger. Say hi!

Stranger: im 30/m/mex
You: have fun jacking off tonight
Stranger: thanx
Stranger: ill be better if you were here
You: pervert
You: im a 27 year old dude

You have disconnected.

You’re now chatting with a random stranger. Say hi!
Stranger: Hi, I like boobs, they’re soft and round
You: i like my boobs
Stranger: are they awesome boobs?
You: i like to think so
Stranger: oh yeah? why are they so awesome?
You: well they are a nice set of man boobs. kinda soft and flabby, lots of hair

You have disconnected.

You’re now chatting with a random stranger. Say hi!
You: hi
Stranger: hey
You: whats up
Stranger: nothing much
Stranger: asl?
You: 27/h/usa
You: you?
Stranger: h?
You: um…i was born with “both” parts
You: that ok?
Stranger: sure
Stranger: i guess
Stranger: that sounds pleasurable
You: you are already not comfortable huh

You have disconnected.


HE SAID: Fantasy Sports

May 12, 2009

I’ve been told fantasy sports are geeky.  Fuck you.

fantasyBaseball2I play fantasy sports.  All year long.  Baseball, football, the occasional hockey or basketball league…I’ve played em all.  And I fully admit to loving each and every moment, even if some of those moments get me so irate I want to throw my computer into the toilet, and take a dump right on top of it.  I know what you are thinking, how can I  participate in something that seems A. geeky (it’s not) and B. gets me that angry (on a regular basis, no less).

There are really two main reasons I participate in such nonsense, as some see it.  The first is basic – it gets me generally interested in sports across the board.  I am an avid Boston supporter, and watch as many Sox/Patriots/Bruins/Celtics games as possible.  That comes with the territory.  What’s great about fantasy sports is that when the Packers play the Vikings on Monday Night Football, I will most likely have a vested interest in the game because I have Brett Favre as my starting quarterback.  Sidenote: please don’t come back Brett, please. Really, put on some Wranglers and relax with your family.

The other reason is a bit more serious – fantasy sports gives me a good way to stay in touch with lots of my friends that I normally don’t talk to.  I usually am in three leagues for both football and baseball a year, two of which are with high school and college friends.  We talk often about trades, day to day happenings in the sport, and talk shit to each other on the message board.

So essentially, for me anyway, fantasy sports is about following all teams (not just the Boston ones) more intently, and staying in touch with friends.  Explain to me, how the fuck is that geeky? I guess I can see how one might say that talking shit to my friends over the internet is a bit geeky, to those I say – you better not have a facebook, myspace or twitter account, because it’s the same fucking thing.  In fact, I would submit that people who play fantasy sports are cooler than those who don’t.  We follow sports and talk shit to our friends, pretty much the definition of cool.


SHE SAID: Fantasy Sports

May 12, 2009

Jeremy, to call you geeky would be a compliment.  Here is the hierarchy of coolness as far as those terms go since you seem to need a lesson: Geek – cool; Nerd – potential to be cool; Dork – you’re doomed; Loser – even the dorks feel sorry for you.*

Now, moving on to how that applies to fantasy sports.  I’m going to do another hierarchy system for you, although this one is a little more confusing, so pay attention.  One team in one season – cool; one sport with multiple teams in different leagues – pretty cool; one sport per season – also pretty cool, but a little less; multiple teams in multiple leagues in multiple seasons – WTF, do you have a life?  I get how it’s easy to chat up your match ladies on IM while updating your teams online, and I would imagine you slay the ladies with those opening lines about who you’re throwing in the day’s rotation.  Are you able to step away from the computer to actually meet any of them face to face?  And, if you are stepping away, I hope your iTouch has an app for updating because I wouldn’t want you to miss anything while you’re experiencing life.

Moving on to your anger … can I quote you again?  ENTERFUCKINGTAINEMENT.  When you get to the point where your fantasy team is making you want to throw your laptop into your toilet and defecate on it … maybe you should take a season or a whole year off.  You just threw up in your mouth a little bit, didn’t you?  It’s hard to get your mind around, I know.

You’re not a geek.  You’re not even a nerd.  Nerd knowledge applies to and enhances life and is a usable skill set.  And, you’re not a dork either.  You are a loser.  A full fledged, card carrying loser.  What’s great is that you’ve taken the first step: admitting you have a problem.  Either embrace it or taper back because the idea that you might be labeled a geek seems to anger you and I think it’s pretty clear you can’t even aspire to geekdom at this point.

While we’re clarifying things, at what point in the naming of things, did it become okay for people to be sports nuts and not okay for people to be comic book collectors?  A lot of kids I grew up with collected both baseball cards and comic books.  Then, in middle school, the kids who collected comic books started getting beat up by the kids collecting baseball cards.  I’m confused because they seem to be, when stripped down, pretty damn similar.  Appreciation from afar for either impressive athleticism or gripping artwork with an interesting plot line.  As my friend Todd says, “society has decided that people who obsess over Papi’s batting stance are cool, and people who obsess over comic book characters’ mutant powers are lame.  And don’t tell me that baseball players are “real” and action heroes are “fake” and therefore the former is an acceptable object of obsession. If you work the service desk at the VW dealership in Brighton, MA, the Red Sox are just as “real” as the ninja turtles. You don’t know them, they don’t know you, and that ain’t gonna change.”  They are both geeks, nerds, dorks and losers, depending on the level of obsession.

So, go watch your 90210 reruns, while updating your fantasy teams and doing research for your next draft.  The dorks are shaking their heads.

*rating system overseen and approved by Laura Page


SHE SAID: Houdini Exits

May 8, 2009

disappearI love “Houdini Exits”.  From bars, from parties, from anything, really.  Definitely more feasible if one has been in the company of drinkers, and more exciting, if one has also been drinking.  Because you think people care enough about you leaving that you have to sneak out. Which is really quite ridiculous, but very easy to believe at certain times, late in the night, when you may or may not have been drunk enough to have decided bootleg whiskey shots were a fantastic idea.

There are certifiable reasons to pull the Houdini Exit that no one is going to argue with:  You’re at a bar in New York with your friend who has hit it off with a guy and things are looking like they might work out for her (before he pulled out the winning line, “I hate animals”); a creepy person is hitting on you and is not getting the hint that you want nothing to do with him/her; a hot person is hitting on you and gets the hint that you’re really quite into him/her (in which case, the double Houdini Exit is necessary).  And then there are Houdini Exits that seem perfectly reasonable and defendable at the time, and there is no need to explain either then or the next day.

Plus, it’s also exciting when you get the Houdini Exit pulled on you.  I respect someone who pulls the slip on me.  Sometimes you end up having to find a new way home, end up staying later than you would have and hopefully creating some fun memories, or being told about great memories that you’re having trouble recalling.  Good things happen in the chaos that follows a Houdini Exit.

The beauty is that it spares all parties the belabored goodbye.  The “oh you’re leaving already”, the “but we’re just about to go to [blank]”, the guilt trip about playing wingman to your friend who hasn’t quite sealed the deal and really doesn’t care if you’re there but needs you to talk to until they don’t need you to talk to anymore, the saying goodbye to people you’ve met there at the bar or event that you’re not going to see again, and so does it really matter if you say goodbye?

Instead, the excitement of figuring out how to best go about sneaking out the door, the sound of solo footsteps on the pavement of the parking lot: freedom.


HE SAID: Houdini Exits

May 8, 2009

It’s not often we agree, but here I have to.  Houdini exits are amazing, and perfect for every scenario in which you described – if you are an insecure college kid.

Leaving a bar, or frat party early in college is really fucking hard.  There are no excuses.  If you are so drunk you can’t stand up straight – have some frat dawgs hold you up, Weekend at Bernies style.  If some really ugly, fat girl is hitting on you and you can’t get away – perfect, you are definitely getting laid tonight. 

Here’s the problem – we aren’t in college anymore.  We are in our 20’s, or early 30’s (embrace it, Nifer).  If it’s 11:30 at the Rusty Nail, and I’m not interested anymore in getting drunk with a woodchuck crowd watching Last Kid Picked, you better believe I’m getting the eff out of dodge.  And before I go, I’ll say goodbye to all of my friends.  They’ll probably say things along the lines of, “you fuckin homo,” “you fuckin loser,” “you fucking____.”  The females might say something like “oh come on, it’s been sooooo long since I’ve seen you,” when, in reality I’d probably been drinking with them all afternoon and evening, and we are meeting for brunch the next morning anyway.  Basically, I’m not so insecure that I still give into peer pressure, like some apparently, are.

A hot/ugly/run of the mill female hitting on me? I’m all for it, even if I have no intention of making out with her in the parking lot.  Maybe our train of thought on this aspect is different because I’m a male and you are a female, and there is the whole safety issue to think about.  Let’s face it though, if there was ever a male in danger of getting sexually assaulted, it’s me.

A houdini exit is acceptable in only one situation – a temporary one.  An example would be really needing a pack of cigarettes, or maybe really needing to take a dump.  Maybe the bar you are at doesn’t have smokes, or comfortable shitting stalls.  In that case make a quick, houidini like exit to the nearest convenience store, buy some Marlboro lights, take a shit, and get back to the bar.  If done properly, friends won’t even notice.  And if they do, they’ll just assume you were making out with the ugly girl you were trying to escape from in the first place.