Dear Guy With the Sweat Problem Part 2 (An Apology)

Hi, friend. Sorry I disrespected your subway perspiration problems the other day. How was I to know that only a few short days later, I too would find myself spouting water from all corners of the bod? You have shown me the dripping buttcrack of my soul, and for that I am both chastened and humbled. I thank you.

 

Now that New York is in the full throes of swamp-assed summer, I see now that you were simply ahead of your time, sweating the bejesus out of yourself when it wasn't even warm enough to be necessary. I see now that you just had the foresight to be proactive about it. And I ask you, I ask all of us: who's laughing now? Uh...actually, I don't know who.

 

And as a sidenote, now that it is so hot and nasty down there in the subways, my condolences on what I can only refer to as your "personal humidity index." I'm guessing that you could sweat through a down parka in about a minute and a half these days. (And as such, I don't recommend that you wear one.)

 

Enjoy the summer, Sweat Guy! And make sure you drink lots of gatorade or something, lest ye burst into flames.

 

Sincerely,

 

Newly Hot as all Hell in Brooklyn

Lost (mmm...not really)

PROBLEM: I wanted to watch the 2nd season finale of "Lost" last night, but up until that moment I had only seen maybe 4 episodes of the first season. I was unprepared. I barely had any unanswered questsion and I didn't know HALF the things I was supposed to not understand.

 

SOLUTION: I decided to watch anyway. Since I didn't have the background information to be properly confused, I would just have to make do by being confused on the fly.  I just have a couple of questions.

1. What was that big, bright ball in the sky that came out during the daytime and then at night -- EVERY night -- went away?! (note: seemed almost "warm", less so when hid behind white puffy things.)
2. I must have missed the episode where they explained why the plane that crashed was filled almost exclusively with attractive people. Probably a total conspiracy.
3. After months on an island, how is the fat guy still fat?

I'm sure that I have more questions, but my mind is just too blown to even know what they are.

The Da Vinci Code Diet!!

That isn't a joke. That is the premise of a REAL article in a magazine I saw while waiting in line at the grocery store. "Lose a pound a day on the Da Vinci Code diet!" I didn't buy this publication for fear of becoming retarded by touching the cover. However, in the spirit of the article, I would like to speculate wildly on the tenets of such a diet.

• Every time you feel hungry, just take a moment and think how the Catholic church feels about this book and movie. Imagine that you are eating their anger and fear. See how full you feel?
• If you are a devout Catholic, refrain from eating anything but communion wafers. You will feel thinner and holier almost immediately!
• Begin reading "The Da Vinci Code." Refuse to eat just until you're done with the chapter you're on. Once you finish the chapter, the cliffhanger ending will keep you reading until you pass out from malnutrition. When you wake up in the hospital, you'll have those washboard abs that you've always dreamed of.
• Eat the book. (Be sure to remove the cover because it is always the fattiest part of a book.)

Open Letters to NYC

Dear Guy With the Sweating Issue,

Look, I know it's lousy for you. I'm sure of it. But if, when you stand up, the back of your seat looks like the outside of a glass of iced tea on a hot summer day, give it a little wipe. Just to let us know that you only sweat like an animal but are, in fact, a human yourself.

Sincerely,

Desiring of Dryness in Brooklyn
==============

Dear Father of Small Child,

Please don't bring that tiny person with you during rush hour. It defeats the whole purpose of naming it that. Now, I'm not saying I blame your child for missing that train. I don't. I blame YOU. Just because you made a decision that affects your schedule, please keep that poop machine away from the rest of us until it can run down the stairs.

Yours,

Childless and Giddy About It
================
and finally....

Dear Lady Cop on the Train,

Thank you for slamming the holster for your sidearm into my crotch as you went by. While I am not a criminal, I feel that you have helped me to understand what it might be like to BE one for a second. Any thoughts of turning to a life of crime are now as gone as the feeling that my balls are intact. Thanks!

With Gratitude,

Gelded and Chastened

Moving Day!

Well, sort of. I did my first bi-annual moving of the furniture in my new-ish apartment the other day. I like to move my stuff around every once in a while to give me the impression that life is shiny and new. Of course it is -- my bed is way the fuck over HERE now. Yesterday, it was way over THERE. You know, back in the old days when they used to have to hand crank just about everything to get it going. You even had to hand crank water -- not the pump (also a hand crank) but the actual water, itself. That's how primitive it was. Yesterday, I'm saying. When my bed was over there.

 

Here's my dilemma: I can't sleep. My bed is about 4 feet from where it used to be. In fact, if you know anything about my apartment, you'll know that it is also about 4 feet from everything else that I own. So what's the big deal? Why can't I sleep now? I have several theories:

• The new spot is on a fault line and I, like a dog, can predict that there will be an earthquake in this section of the room.

• My bed is now directly over an old indian burial ground, and I'm sensing the restless dead beneath me.

• My sheets are made of iron, and the shift in compass direction is making me nauseous.

• I have an irrational fear that I will roll over and out of the window.

• I have an irrational JOY that I will roll over and out of the window, and I can't sleep from all the excitement.

I'm sure that it's either one of these things, or it's something different. That much is clear.

Some Restrictions May Apply

In researching whether or not to get an extended warranty for something, I came across this useful piece of information:

 

"...covered, unless failure is due to accidental or intentional damage." So if something goes wrong they'll pay for it. Unless it was an accident. Oh, also if it's NOT an accident. But other than that...

 

So, that's kind of everything isn't it? That would be like saying, "You can ride this rollercoaster unless you are under 4 feet tall. Or if you are OVER 4 feet tall. Basically, don't ride this rollercoaster. That's ten bucks, please."

 

I love this idea. I am going to use it in every contract I ever draw up. And since I'm not a lawyer, boy will THAT not have any effect on my life! But sometimes it's fun just to type. Or to scream at the top of your lungs, "Pudding! Look out for the pudding! Jesus, God, those madmen! What were they thinking, making all that pudding!!??" Either thing is very fun. Really fun. Uh...yes.

 

Carry on, everyone. And Godspeed. You know, if you're going somewhere. (I, clearly, am not.)

A Face To Die For: The Jeff Mac Not Blogging Story - a LifeTime Original Blog Entry

Scene One: Jeff Mac and his blog are clearly in love, running around in fields and throwing stuff to each other. Hilarious! But the cello in the soundtrack tells you that it's all going to hell, and pretty soon Meredith Baxter-Birney's agent will do battle with Judith Light's agent to see who gets to play the role of Jeff's Blog's wicked mother-in-law.

 

Scene Two: Jeff Mac throws acid in his blog's face. "Who will want you now?" he screams, laughing maniacally. The blog says nothing, but secretly wonders if there should have been maybe some motivation behind that sort of thing.

 

Scene Three: The blog goes to prison, framed for the death of Jeff Mac. (In fact, Jeff has faked his own death and taken the inheritance money. Roll with it.)

 

Scene Four: In jail, the blog meets a strong black woman who tells it that it has to stand up for itself. It does.

 

Scene Five: The blog is paroled, kills Jeff Mac, and is sued by Ashley Judd for plagiarizing her movie.

 

Scene Six: The Present Day. Jeff Mac and his blog are back together again, with no explanation for how Jeff isn't dead, since he was clearly killed in Scene Five. Magical Realism, people. Look it up.

 

Director's Note: Sorry I've been on a bit of a hiatus. I'll be floggin' the blog with far more regularity, once again.

George Clooney Speaks Out on Darfur!

George, I don't know if you're reading this right now. (Of course you are. I can't imagine what you could possibly have to do with all of your time besides read this blog.) But if you are out there, listen to me very carefully before you take up another humanitarian cause with passion and integrity. The women of the world? They surrender, ok? You don't have to keep out-wonderfuling yourself. THEY WILL HAVE SEX WITH YOU.  Please leave some for everybody else.

Sincerely,

A Selfish Dude Who You are Clearly Better Than*


*Or, if you prefer, "A Selfish Dude Than Whom You are Clearly Better."