People Really Will Have Sex With Anything

Hold.  The.  Phone.

I have just come across a certain article about a gentleman named Edward Smith.  This is a passionate man.  He sings, writes poetry and makes sweet, sweet love to the object(s) of his affection.

Literally, object.

Edward Smith claims to love and have had sex with 1,000 cars.

Back off, all you Porches out there, Eddie is currently in a relationship with a white Volkswagen Beetle named Vanilla.  Although he does have a bit of a wandering eye - he has also been seen with a 1973 Opal GT named Cinnamon and a 1993 Ford Ranger Splash that goes by the moniker Ginger.

And no, I am not making any of that up.  Not any of it.

Nor am I making up his claim that he has not limited his "mechaphilia" to cars.  A helicopter has also been in his list of sexual partners.

See, this is why I love the internet - I learn so much.  I had no idea that mechaphilia actually existed!  These people have rallies!  There is a story about a young man running naked along the street trying to hump some poor innocent car as it drives away.

No means no, people!

How do you have a sex with a car?  Do you get nasty with a tail pipe?  Rub yourself all over the interior?  Use the gear shift to get to that special moment?

And how do you break up with a car?  Do you sell it?  Would you have to report all the sexual activity to Carmax?  Is there a Blue Book entry for what base you got to with the vehicle?

For that matter, how do you know if a car is male or female?  What if you were in a committed relationship with a wonderful automobile only to realize that it wasn't what you thought it was.  I mean, after confiding your deepest darkest secrets to what you believed was a female car only to realize it was a car in drag? 

I tell ya, it takes the notion of drag racing to a whole new level.

By the way, every episode of The X-Files is now on Hulu Plus.  I could never watch them in the 90s cause my folks thought they were too scary.  Time to do some long overdue rebelling!

We Won't Find Out What Happens On Dancing With The Stars!

Ok, so it has come to my attention recently that this Saturday will be the end of the world.  

First off, I find it odd that I am only finding out about this now.

Last night I was working a catering event, and an amazing (and I mean amazing, she was incredible) middle aged Jamaican woman name Dolores who asked me if I was ready for the Rapture on Saturday.  I told her that I didn't think that was going to happen.  I was then treated to an explanation of what's going to happen and to be ready for global earthquakes that will render the earth uninhabitable.

A gentleman by the name of Robert Fitzpatrick has written a book that you can buy on Ebay or download for free here (?) that explains his whole theory.  I will warn you, the adobe file is 384 pages long.

I am a relatively intelligent human being.  For some reason, when someone using scientific fact and evidence I find myself being convinced.  When a person uses extensive and obscure Bible quotes to prove a point, I find myself being skeptical.  Especially when they are quotes that don't seem to mean anything.

Things like - "Therefore let us not sleep, as do others; but let us watch and be sober."  Now, that could mean all kinds of things.  Good ol' Robert here is using this as a sign to be vigilant in watching and waiting for the End of Days.  But maybe this was written by someone who was against sleep and partying.  You know, Jesus.

He wrote the Bible, right?

Also, he (Fitzpatrick, not Jesus) isn't really specific.  I mean, should I be ready at midnight for shit to go down?  Do I have a little bit of time in the morning to make the bed and feed the cats before the earth is wracked with heaves and crushing scariness?  If not, no worries, I just want to know what I have time for.

In addition, this guy has spent his life savings - about $140,000 - on billboards, subway ads, and other kinds of commercials and advertising to let people know about the 21st.  

He has convinced OTHER people this is going to happen, there are caravans of people traveling around spreading the word.

I have to say, for his sake, I kinda hope he's right.  I mean, this is not something you can really recover from.  Being wrong about the end of the world is kind of big.  And spending all your money to tell everyone?  I guess its good that he believes so much, this is the type of thing when you should go big or go home.  

Isn't there a whole part of that whole God thing where He likes it better if you are quietly penitent then hugely demonstrative parishioners?

Honestly, the extent of my religious knowledge has come from The Ten Commandments and Jesus Christ Superstar.

Oddly, I've gotten by pretty well on just that information.   

What is this guy gonna do after Saturday?  Even if the world ends on Sunday he's going to be a laughing stock!  You can't be all - um, yeah, I meant Sunday!  The 22nd!  Yeah, that's what I mean!  Did you think I said the 21st?  That was a typo!

The only job he would be suited for after this would be a weather man - everyone is so used to those guys being wrong. 

It's A Good Thing I Don't Have Magical Powers

My James and our friends recently saw Thor in theaters.  Let me say that it was excellent fun and you and all your friends should all see it too.  My boy Ken did me proud.

Not to give away anything, but, as with all the super hero movies, there is an easter egg after the credits.  

If you haven't seen Thor yet, look away!

************SPOILER ALERT!************

At the end of Thor we find Stellan Skarsgard and Samuel L. Jackson in some presumably underground/top secret/confidential/underwater/in some secluded area.  Sammy L is acting all secretive and mysterious and Stellan is trying to keep things light and non-I'm-gonna-kill-you-after-I-tell-you.  

Sam takes out a briefcase (very Pulp Fiction) which opens to reveal THE CUBE OF POWER.  Apparently its this cube that's a really powerful source of unlimited power.

************END OF SPOILER ALERT!************

Has there ever been a "THING OF LIMITED POWER"?  Was there ever a super hero or god who searched and quested for an idol that could blow up, like, four things every twelve hours and must be left in the sun to recharge?  Or a mirror that would bestow the gazer with 50% less acne than they had previously.  Or a scrub brush that, after the correct words had been said over it, it would clean your house - but not the bathroom.  You know, the under-achieving objects in the magical universe.  

I feel like those less desirable magical or powerful objects must be the creator's first attempt at making an object of ultimate-ness.  You know, they had just graduated from Magical Crafting School and they had made one thesis object to graduate but had never actually done one all on their own.  Most start out with slightly mediocre projects, but there are a few stand outs who make something really unique on their first go at it.

Remind you of anything?

There has got to be a Mystical Closet of Forgetting somewhere that holds all the objects that have been created and immediately regretted.  Like, the Holy Fork of Reflux which makes the back of the holder's mouth taste slightly of throw-up.  Or the Blanket of Phoenix Down, which keeps you warm, but always makes you sweaty.   Or the Coin Bank of Legend, that always spits pennies back at you, regardless of what you put in it.  Obviously no one would attempt to make these things, so they would all have to be mistakes, and no one wants anyone knowing about their mistakes.

Or what about objects that were just supposed to be practice and ended up being completely ultimate?  Maybe that's why objects like cubes and rings and books tend to be imbued with awesome power.  It was just practice, so the creator was all, "Ok, I'll just practice on that slightly interesting looking rock.  It's not going to end up being anything."

See, if I was a Creator of Magical Things, I would make stuff that was all powerful, but really annoying to use. Like the Ill-Fitting Suit of Awesomeness.  One sleeve is always shorter than the other, its made of heavy wool so you're all uncomfortable and itchy.  There would be Shoes of the Universe - two left feet of course.  Or the Sphere of Planetary Cosmic-ness - all the power of the universe, but just big enough to to make it incredibly awkward to hold.

Huh, I made it all the way through that blog without referencing any sex toys.

Aw, crap.

Ricky Gervais and I Would Really Get On - He Forbid Gum Chewing on a Set

I was in a situation recently that really makes me question human behavior.

Why on earth do people chew gum?

I think I have mentioned  before that the sound of people eating drives me absolutely bonkers.  As you may surmise, the sound of gum chewing is like a deliberate torture, specially designed for me.  Forget the rack, forget thumb screws - have someone chew gum in my ear and I'll tell you anything.

I was in a situation where there was a woman behind me who was chewing and smacking and blowing bubbles for what felt like hours without end.  

I was nearly driven to acts of desperation and blood lust.

How can anyone find chewing gum attractive?  As soon as I see or hear someone chewing gum I instantly judge them.  I develop a whole persona for them, and it usually involves little to no respect from yours truly.  I would say that it makes me think of cows, placidly chewing their cud.  But it doesn't.  I WISH it made me think of cows.  It actually brings to mind a person who can't bear to have their mouth closed for more than two seconds.  So either they have to have their mouths crammed with some kind of chew-y, chemically substance to have it continually smack open and closed because of some strange jaw issue or its hanging open expressing some terrible opinion or thought.

Just a cathartic release, people. I am aware the way I feel about the gum-chewing members of the population is a terrible generalization; they are not all terrible ingrates with walnut brains.  There is just something about the sound that emanates from the movement of a gum-filled maw that drives me MENTAL.  It crawls into my ears and squirms into the very base of my brain stem and constricts itself.  That means that I MUST strike out to save my life.

That makes sense, doesn't it?

English Still Doesn't Make Sense

I have this odd habit of listening when people speak and through this habit I have, once again, come in contact with odd/stupid things that people say.

Let's begin, shall we?

• Thank you for your patience.

Living in New York City and using the subway system, this is a phrase that we inhabitants are far too familiar with.  It always follows some announcement about why the trains are all fucked up, usually when you are in the middle of a subway tunnel, under the East River, with 100 of your closest friends sweaty strangers all up in your grill.  Its the MTA equivalent of being put on hold.  My thought has always been - what other choice do we have that to be patient?  Ranting, raving, taking a shit in the middle of the train - how would any of this help us?  Of course we're  going to be patient!

• Go suck an egg.

The origin of this phrase actually comes from an old English Easter tradition wherein you would take a raw egg, using a needle - make a tiny whole on either end of the eggshell and blow out the contents, leaving you with an empty eggshell that can be decorated and the raw egg which can be used in cake making.  Sucking on the egg yolk as opposed to blowing would indicate a very idiotic individual.

For my money, though, it just leaves me with a lot of questions.  How likely is it that the person who tells you to go suck an egg actually knows all that stuff?  So, what would you mean when it comes to sucking an egg?  Is it like the above, sucking raw egg yolk?  Or maybe sucking on an eggshell.  Perhaps a hard-boiled egg?  Sucking on scrambled eggs would be difficult, and I don't think I would enjoy the texture of that at all.  What if the egg is in a sandwich?  Would you suck on the bread/ham/cheese as well?  I guess that phrase would be "Go suck on an egg breakfast sandwich."  What about egg salad?  Sometimes people put bacon in egg salad and its really delicious.

 . . .

Moving on.

• Sounds like a plan.

I am completely guilty of using this phrase, and using it a lot.  I was thinking about it the other day, and I realized just how condescending it sounds.  If I had an idea that I had agonized over, fleshed out,  decorated with sparkles and ribbons and presented to a person with excitement and their response is, "Sounds like a plan," I think I would be incited to homicidal tendencies.

• A death mark's not an easy thing to live with.

This one is for my Dad.  In the most excellent film The Empire Strikes Back our intrepid heroes begin the tale on the planet Hoth.  Han Solo is still in trouble with Jaba the Hutt, so he goes to one the of commander types and tells him that he has to go and take care of the price on his head.  The commander type replies with, "A death mark's not an easy thing to live with."

WELL OF COURSE ITS NOT!  YOU ARE MARKED FOR DEATH!  ITS A DEATH MARK! 

• I saw it with my own eyes.

WHO ELSE'S EYES ARE YOU GOING TO SEE IT WITH?!??!?!?!

• That is so funny.

 As a comedian, I hate this phrase.  When people say this and don't laugh, it is one of the most annoying statements a person can make.  If its funny, then fucking laugh.  I don't get paid when you don't actually laugh.  Saying that you appreciate the form of a joke without even a chuckle is a great way to line yourself up for a comedian round house kick to the FACE!

• No one is more frustrated than I.

What a belittling combination of words to utter.  How the crap do you know?  It is very possible that another person would be more frustrated.  People say this about opening pickle jars.  There is someone else somewhere who is wrestling with their insurance company to get them to pay for their two-year-old daughter's eye surgery.  Obviously, that person is more frustrated.

But not more frustrated than I.  I haven't been about to talk for almost 24 hours.  Damn laryngitis. 

*brushes away the dust* Now Where Where We?

Ok, I think it's time to say it.  After years of staying quiet I am going to dispell the myth and declare that all naysayers can go shit in their collective hats.

It's not easy being skinny.

Full disclosure.  I am a 5 foot 4 inches, white, mid-twenties female with brown hair, big brown eyes and the last time I went to the OB-GYN I weighed 108 lbs.  I'm not sure what I weigh now because we don't have a scale in the apartment, but all my clothes still fit.  Admittedly some have even gotten too bug and were relinquished to the Salvation Army on Steinway.

I've heard it all before.  "You can't complain, you're so thin."  "Skinny people don't have the same problems we do."  "Can I have the rest of your dinner?  You aren't going to eat it anyway."

I am here to say I CAN complain, I may not have the same problems, but problems still exist, and NO, I'M EATING THAT.

I am here to proudly proclaim that we skinny bitches don't have it as easy as you more well-endowed bitches think.

For example, fat people ALWAYS pick us to sit next too.  On subways and buses we are targets for those among the populous that have a feeding schedule that would make a hobbit blush.  Today, I was returning to New York City from visiting my family in Virginia.  A rather large female sat next to me, taking up all of her seat and half of mine.  She proceeded to sleep and snore throughout the ride, and occasionally her hand would slip from her lap and gently graze the top of my thigh, like a 14-year-old boy trying to get lucky in a movie theater. 

As I got up from my seat when the trip blessedly ended, I began searching my seat for my belongings.  Suddenly a voice in my head piped up.  It said, "Your dignity stays here, my friend.  Exit the bus."

I could not argue.

I exited the bus.

Clothes never fit.  I know you are going to say they don't fit for us either, but see, this is different.  Because most of the population is more in the middle when it comes to sizes, clothing companies don't order much in the smaller side of sizes.  So if we don't get to the store the day stuff comes in, some other skinny bitch will snag it.

And being skinny isn't exactly easy.  I don't eat anything the contains dairy, which means all manner of delicious desserts and whatnot are forbidden, no alcohol and I do Bikram Yoga - a practice wherein you burn somewhere from 600-800 calories in a single class.  Its not like I am sitting on my ass living on juice and a single slice of cucumber a day.

Sometimes I even have to watch that I don't loose too much weight.

How much am I frustrating you?

And we are always cold!  I guess if you can take solace in anything, if we were stranded on a mountain top somewhere, we would starve first, and our well-muscled haunches would probably be delicious.

So yes, remember that the thinies around you have problems when it comes to weight. 

Aren't you proud of me?  I didn't call anyone fat this entire post.

And Peeps Season Just Started . . . .

I'm pretty sure marshmallows are evil.

I was making some incredibly unhealthy goodies for a gathering of friends (for Westlemania - don't judge) - most of which I can't eat myself due to an intolerance to diary.  One of the ingredients to these treats happened to be marshmallows, and after a cursory glance at what goes into these puffy delights I was all excited to see that there were no cow products included.

So I ate one.

This proved to be one of the greatest mistakes of my life.  The thing totally expanded to unthinkable proportions in my stomach making me completely unable to live a proper life for the rest of the evening.  

Once I had recovered I decided to take another look at the ingredients.  Here's what I found.

Corn Syrup.

Ok, that I can deal with.

Sugar.

I wasn't expecting these things to be healthy.  Sugar, ok, yes.

Dextrose.

Apparently this is another type of sweetener that is commonly used in body building.  Huh.

Modified corn starch.

According to Wikipedia, this means that the corn starch was modified chemically to be used as a thickening agent.  Wait, isn't corn starch already a thickening agent?  So it was modified to make things even thicker?  I guess it makes sense, marshmallows are quite dense.  But still . . . 

Water.

Ooo, that's good!

Gelatin.

Wait a tick - that's something else that makes things thick.  Um, so now we have two additives to thicken the outcome - one of them in mutant form.  I'm beginning to understand why I felt the way I did.

Tetrasodium Pyrophosphate.

Ok, high school Latin, let's break these words down.  Tetra.  That means four.  Sodium.  Salt.  Pyro.  We all know that one, that means fire.  Phosphate.  Now this one I looked up.  Wikipedia told me that a phosphate is 'any salt or ester'.  So basically, from the Latin, Four Salts on Fire.

Um . . . .

Artificial flavor.

But is doesn't say what!!!!!!

Artificial color (Blue 1).

THEY'RE WHITE!!!!!!  THE LITTLE BASTARDS ARE WHITE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Needless to say, I will be keeping away from those spongy evil pillows from a while.