It's been a while...I know I shouldn't have left you...

NYMag has a contest -- describe the life and times of Britney Spears in a haiku. Funniest one wins VIP tickets to Britney's show. Considering the last concert I saw was probably the Spice Girls, this seemed perfect for me. Here's my three entries:

Each man less than last
Justin, K-Fed, whats-his-name
So too, your career

Goodbye, Mouseketeer
Sexy Pinup Shot, no more
Late Show Joke remains

Innocent young star
You saved yourself for marriage
How's that working out?

I'm sure to win! But I was thinking -- music historians today blame the demise of the Beatles on Yoko Ono. If only Yoko Ono hadn't been there, who knows how much greater the Beatles might have become. If only Yoko Ono hadn't been there, who knows if the music would have died. If only Yoko Ono hadn't been there, who knows if the Beatles might have made music longer than the Rolling Stones, more innovative than U2, more timeless than the Doors?

I wonder if future music historians will wonder the same thing about Kevin Federline?

Moderate Drinking

"Epidemiologists at Oxford University recently concluded that women who drink even a moderate amount of alcohol — fewer than three drinks a day — increase their risk of contracting several cancers."
http://www.nytimes.com/2009/03/12/opinion/12thu3.html

Did I miss something? Up to three drinks a day, every day, is the cut-off threshold for a "moderate" amount of alcohol? For a woman?

Now granted, when it comes to women and alcohol, my personal definition of "light drinking", "moderate drinking", and "heavy drinking" is just synonyms for "second base", "third base", and "home run". But still! Three drinks a day, every day -- with a standard size shot glass, that's nearly a bottle and a half of vodka per person per week...or more if your bartender has a liberal pour. Even Lindsey Lohan doesn't drink that much.

So today I learned:

• Lindsey Lohan doesn't need to worry about her risk of "several types of cancer".
• I no longer feel guilty about getting women drunk so they'd go home with me, cause I didn't get them drunk, I just gave them a "moderate" amount of alcohol.
• Epidemiologists at Oxford University have a job where they're paid to get women drunk? Dude, how the hell do I get a sweet gig like that?
  

Mary Lou Retton

I was reading about Mary Lou Retton -- I remember from a kid when she was the Michael Phelps of her day. I always thought that meant she must have kicked Olympic ass. But I learned today she only won *one* olympic gold medal in her whole career. Just one! And even that was in 1984 when all the soviet bloc countries boycotted the olympics. So of course she's gonna win the medal when her only competition is Norway and Botswana! Even I could probably win a medal in something if half the countries don't even show up.

And to think, I actually used to like Wheaties...

Make It Work

Saw a factoid today on the monitor in my elevator: "28% of people thought 'Make It Work' was the catch-iest phrase on Project Runway". So I conducted an informal poll to verify the results. I asked fourteen people at my office, "What do you think is the catch-iest phrase on Project Runway?"

Results:

• 3 people (21%) -- "You're out!"
• 9 people (64%) -- "Uh, I don't know, I really don't watch that show"
• 2 people (14%) -- "Dude, that's the stupidest fucking question I've ever heard."

When lawyers get involved in a cross-country move

Having accepted a job offer in Chicago, I received relocation paperwork from the company today. They will pay for my relocation, visits back to NY, etc. But their paperwork explicitly lists fifteen items they will NOT pay to move, including the following:

* Shipment of firewood, lumber, or other building materials.
* Shipment of livestock
* Shipment of snowmobiles, boats over 14 feet, recreational vehicles and unusually heavy or cumbersome hobby materials

What's interesting to me isn't that they won't pay to move my snowmobile or all that livestock I keep in my New York apartment. It's that a literal reading of this list implies they *would* move my boat if it was *under* 14 feet. I'm tempted to buy a 13'11'' boat now just to find out.

Showing my age

There is an angry panhandler on the corner of 6th Avenue & Washington Place. Every time I walk by, he aggressively shouts, "Young man! Young man!" and shakes his cup in hopes of a donation. He has been calling me "Young man" every time I've walked by for nearly a year.

But today as I walked by, he aggressively shouted, "Sir! Sir!" and shook his cup.

"Sir"?!?! I actually stopped and turned to look. He didn't notice me, and he continued soliciting other passerbys. "Young lady! Young lady!" (shake, shake) "Young man! Young man!" (shake, shake)

Have I really gone from "young man" to "sir" over night? Did I wake up looking ten years older this morning?

Thinning of the Herd

So I'm visiting family in the deep south. Right now, I'm staring out the window at the next door neighbor, who is trying to get rid of a tree stump in his front yard by burning it. We're in the middle of a severe drought, and he doesn't seem to have any water or fire prevention gear around; but that's OK, he's got a couple six-packs of beer he's drinking and I'm sure he can just use the beer to put out the fire if necessary.

I feel like I'm about to see a Darwin Award happen right in front of my eyes.

I am even less hip than Corporate America

There were layoffs at my company on Thursday. No big worry, I wasn't affected. But afterwards, I overheard someone ask the CIO about the layoffs. He said the expected things -- it's tragic but necessary, etc. He admitted layoffs are subjective, and maybe a few low-performers survived the cut while some slightly better people didn't.

But then he compared it to American Idol -- someone is voted off each week, and it may not always be the absolute worst person, but over the long run, the right decisions come out. Just like on last night's episode (which he watches with his children), where Chris was voted off and Phil wasn't.

I guess I am truly out of touch with pop culture when even the CIO of a major Fortune 100 company knows more about American Idol and pop culture than I do...

Profanity for Wusses

Today I overheard someone predict the winner of a basketball game, which caused his friend to reply, "You're out of your gee dee mind". The comment didn't sink in at first, but then the man said it again, and I realized "gee dee" meant "G.D.", as an abbreviation for "goddamn".

But why would anybody say anything so stupid sounding? If you want to swear, then why not say the whole word: "you're out of your goddamn mind". Or if you don't want to swear, then why not just leave it off entirely: "you're out of your mind". Either one is fine with me. But what's the point of the middle ground -- swearing with an abbreviation? WTF is up with that? Why the H. E. double hockey sticks would anybody say anything like that?

Taco Bell and E Coli

36 people have become ill from E. Coli after eating at Taco Bell.
http://www.cnn.com/2006/HEALTH/12/06/ecoli.outbreak.ap/index.html

But what I want to know is, how did they know the illness was due to E Coli? In my experience, getting sick after eating at Taco Bell is simply part of the deal.

Sing hallelujah!

Hallelujah!

Six years ago, if you had told me I would one day be happy about Democrats taking over congress, I'd have thought you were crazier than a highly medicated Courtney Love who had skipped her weekly therapy session after OD'ing on amphetamines and reruns of "Knight Rider".

But today, after six years of The Retarted Cowboy (TM)? How do I feel about it today?

Today, a Democratic sweep brings a smile to my face bigger than a thousand sunbursts. Today, I'm ready to do the Dance Of Joy, followed by the Curl Your Toes Like Your Having An Orgasm Of Joy, followed by the Break Out Your Most Expensive Bottle Of Wine To Celebrate Of Joy, and I may even finish up with that happy "YEAHAHAHAHAH!" scream that everybody made fun of Howard Dean for.

Someday, after the neo-cons are long retired, I hope I'll be able to go back to my former ways and support a Republican again. But not today, Lord, not today. For this day, and this day alone -- Hooray! Happy, happy, joy, joy, happy, happy, joy, joy...

Getting Snarky With the Advertisments

From time to time, the author of this blog likes to pretend he is witty and snarky. He now unleashes all his snarkiness on the advertising industry.

Moet & Chandon: Be Fabulous
This add from Moet & Chandon shows two hot women (a key component for any successful ad) leaving a limo to enter a red carpet party. But wait! According to the caption, they're not entering the party, they're exiting it. "Turn an exit into an entrance. Be Fabulous". I suppose it's a bit unusual how the ladies are glamming for the cameras and backing in to their get-away limo ass-first if they're "exiting", but hey, whatever.

But notice that the woman in red is clutching a magnum sized bottle of champagne as she exits the party. But she's "exiting" the party, so why does she still have the bottle? Did she bring it as a gift and then changed her mind and decided to keep it for herself? Did she steal it from the party? How is this "Being Fabulous"?

So let me get this straight: Barbie Doll shows up at the party, decides none of the men there are worth talking to, so she immediately leaves -- but on her way out, she stops by the open bar and flirts with the bartender long enough to swipe a $150 bottle that will be added to the poor host's bill. Yeah, that's real fabulous, Moet, real fabulous. And she's not even subtle about it! Instead, she grins and proudly displays her stolen magnum of champagne and boorish behavior like it's a damn Mentos: The Freshmaker commercial.
"Be Fabulous"? More like "Be A Stuck-Up Prick".


Liberty Helicopters: Once In a Lifetime

Liberty Helicopters allows you to take a helicopter tour of New York, and assures you that this is a "Once in a Lifetime Experience!" But notice the upper left corner says this service "starts at $30". So cheap! Some of my coworkers spend that more than that on their daily commute. So with prices like that, why in the world would anyone limit himself to doing this only once in his lifetime?

Now brussel sprouts -- that yucky, slimy green vegetable -- I would limit myself to experiencing those only once in my lifetime. Watching a romantic comedy starring Jennifer Lopez and Ben Affleck -- I would limit myself to a "once in a lifetime experience" for that, too.

So I checked the citysearch.com reviews of Liberty Helicopters. The consesus was: "Not worth the money", "I was so motion sick the whole time, I couldn't enjoy it", "The views were really crappy anyway", "I would never do this again in my life".

So on a 1-10 scale of pleasure, the Liberty Helicopter ride is somwhere between brussel sprouts and a romantic comedy starring J-Lo and B-Affleck. Brilliant. OK, so "a once in a lifetime experience" is actually a truthful description of Liberty Helicopter tours. But it still seems like maybe the wrong message...

Love In The Time Of Cholera And/Or Chain Letters

A cautionary tale of "boy meets girl, boy loses girl, boy opens chain letter"...

Boy meets Girl. Boy rock climbs with Girl. Boy introduces Girl to Boy #2. Boy #2 throws a birthday party for Girl at Boy #1's house, even though Girl can't attend. But that's ok, because multiple other beautiful Girls attend the party instead. So many beautiful women in his apartment make Boy feel like quite the stud-muffin.

After the party, the whole crowd goes clubbing and meets beautiful british Girls #1, #2, and #3 at the door of the club. All three british Girls throw themselves at Boy because he has a credit card and bottle service. Boy feels like he is All That and a Bag of Chips.

Within the next week, Boy's ex-girlfriend drops subtle hints about getting back together. Further, Boy's *other* ex-girlfriend drops not-subtle-whatsoever more-than-hints about the same thing. Boy is not interested, but is flattered, and is having such success with the ladies that he makes plan to bottle his own sweat and sell it as a pheromone.

Boy knows he is one red hot piece of grade A, prime USDA, Hunk.

And then the tragedy...

Boy clicks on an email from Girl. Too late, Boy discovers -- it's a trap! It's a chain letter! The chain letter tells Boy he must forward the email within 200 seconds or else "no one will like you or ask you out again for 5 years". Boy frantically tries to forward the letter on in time, but misses the 200 second deadline, breaking the chain, and dooming himself to the consequences.

The moral of this story is --
GEE, THANKS A LOT, WENDY! Really appreciate you dooming me to 5 years of celibacy there. Remind me to buy you something nice at christmas to return the favor. But maybe next time, you could also throw in a curse to produce testicular cancer and perhaps some male pattern baldness, too?

I bet that's what happened to Mel Gibson, too. One day, he's an international sex symbol with women screaming his name. The next day, Wendy sends him a chain letter that he forgets to forward, and look at his career now.

Bah!

And they say we don't know our history...

The Apple trailers page is now showing the trailer for MGM's latest masterpiece: Flyboys, an epic movie about World War I. The trailer shows lots of World War I bi-planes, World War I uniforms, World War I trench warfare, World War I snooty french people, and World War I era captions like "When the world first went to war..."
But the best part of the trailer for this World War I movie is in this frame:


Not sure which is worse -- the fact that they feel the need to point out World War I was a true story, or the fact that this historical movie is merely "inspired by" it, rather than a more accurate "based on"...

I am that guy who says he'll call but never does

Saturday - I scored phone numbers from *two* hot blonde I-banking chicks, one of whom (in M's words) was "irrefutably the yum". But I never called them. Both had boyfriends; it was really a fluke that I got the numbers in the first place; and anyway, I gate-crashed this party with M, M, and P at a total strangers house where none of us knew a soul there, simply by knocking on a door with loud music playing. To crash a party and then hit on the host's girlfriend would just be begging for bad karma.

Tuesday - met a girl at the rock climbing gym who wanted to climb together. Phone number was entered in to my just-purchased-that-day cell phone, all good. Next day, I returned the phone for a different model, knowing that all phone numbers are stored in the SIM card which is easily transfered to the new phone. Hah! Not the Samsung T809 phone, which stores numbers to non-transferrable internal memory rather than the portable SIM card. Phone number gained, phone number lost.

Today - some woman in a different department at work can never remember that I switched departments months ago, and continues to call me to ask questions about my old job, no matter how many times I remind her I moved. This week I finally gave up and just stopped answering or returning her calls. She still hasn't caught on.

Supposedly, women are attracted to men who never call. If that's true, I'm about to have four hard-core stalkers.

Habla espanol?

Going through old emails I wrote 5 years ago, and found this...

"Well, I've finished the 8 lessons that come with my "Fast 'N Easy Spanish" CDs: the 2 most useful phrases I learned were 1) how to ask someone for 5 pesos, and 2) how to say "I don't understand" when they ask for the money back. So if you ever get arrested in a spanish-speaking country now, just call me because I speak enough spanish to get you out of jail! First, I will go around "la ciudad" asking everyone I meet for 5 pesos until I have enough to cover your bail. Then, I shall take you to "el aeropuerto" and I shall again commence asking all the locals for 5 pesos until "Yo tango MUCHOS pesos!" I shall then use my “dinero” to purchase "dos boletos" to the US, and when we are flying in "el avion", I shall use my "tarjetas de credito" to purchase a round of margaritas for all. As we sip our drinks, I will think to myself, "Darin, usted es un damn-sexy-hombre", and I'm sure you will agree. All I need now is a cooler wardrobe and I could be quite the international man of mystery..."

That was 5 years ago. And how much spanish have I learned since then? Let's just put it this way -- if you need someone to order your chicken chalupa at Taco Bell, I'm still your man. But contrary to what I told you five years ago, if you get arrested in that spanish speaking country today...well, you probably shouldn't count on me to be able to get your out of jail anymore...

Fancy yuppie shopping

You know you shop at overpriced yuppie grocery stores when even the cashier is surprised by how much you're paying for vanilla extract.

The perils of being rich, handsome, and sexy

M's friend M told us about a magazine article she'd read by some twenty-something year old girl in NY, talking about how hard it is to be a twenty-something year old girl in NY. She said the article was two and half pages of "Last Tuesday? We went to a bar? And there were these investment bankers? And they wouldn't buy us drinks, and we couldn't figure out why. Maybe they were gay. But then on Wednesday? We went to a bar? And there were these hedge fund guys? And they totally bought us drinks."

Now you see how hard my life is -- everywhere I go, twenty-something year old women flock to me, expecting me to buy them drinks. And if I don't do it, they write entire magazine articles about me, complaining about how selfish and/or gay I must be.

Is there a "Letters to the Editor" section where I can respond with a counter-argument to defend my heterosexuality?

My Blog Comments Don't Have Enough Spam Porn Yet

It's bad enough when spammers start using the comment feature of your blog to leave spam links to porn sites.

It's worse when you're about to delete those spam comments but then realize this particular porn link actually sounds like something you might be interested in.

But the absolute worst is when you click the porn link and find you wasted your time because the promised "hot erotic action" is neither hot enough nor erotic enough for your tastes. The last thing anyone wants to look at is G-rated porn.

Note to spammers: if you're going to use my blog to advertise your porn, at least give me the good stuff.

Being Evil With the Stars

M. is now a PR girl, so she invited me to the premier party for a new movie ("The King") yesterday. While there, I started talking to one of the other PR girls. This girl had seen M rush to greet me outside, so she knew I was "important" or at least friends with somebody; but she didn't know who I was beyond that. We chatted for a while, then I asked about what the VIP booths were for. She said, "I wish I could give you one, but they're mostly reserved for the cast and crew of the movie."

So I simply replied, "Oh, they're only for the movie people? Oh, OK, then." But I said it with a oscar-worthy acting job -- an expression of amusement mixed with I'm-too-polite-to-embarass- you-by-pointing-out-the-mistake-you-just-made. After another minute, she asked what I do for a living, and I sheepishly answered, as if I were embarrased to say, "Well...actually...I directed this film." Her face turned ash-white, and she croaked, "Oh my god -- no!" Then she frantically swivelled her head looking for a VIP booth that wasn't taken, lest I mentioned something to her boss. I let her panic for several seconds before admitting I was only kidding. Just a couple seconds more and she would have been hyperventilating.

I am SOOO going to hell.