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A new study in Pennsylvania State University’s Journal of Adolescence finds that when men get freaky for the first time, they tend to feel better about their appearance, whereas when women turn in the V-card, they experience a decrease in satisfaction with their appearance.
Paying enormous amounts of money for drinks has always been a strange concept to me. It’s like, “Yes. Let me pay you fifty dollars so I can act like an asshole, eat fattening foods, and eventually vomit on the sidewalk.” That doesn’t sound right, does it?
Whilst my observations in London are by no means a scientific study, I have found myself trying to hypothesise why people would have stopped using their iPods. Music has not lost its popularity, despite Rebecca Black’s best efforts, and Apple is still experiencing great levels of commercial success. So far, I have come up with four depressingly viable possibilities.
In a new study conducted by the University of Wisconsin School of Medicine and Public Health and the Robert Wood Johnson Foundation, the health of all U.S counties was ranked based on factors like premature-death, morbidity, poverty levels, etc.
If you’re wont to participate in what is typically referred to as a “relationship” (but more aptly described as a commitment to relentless disappointment), there may come a day that you are broken up with. If you’re shaking your head and mumbling, “No way, dude. Not me. All of my relationships end amicably and mutually,” then you’re either an aloof Dumper (the worst kind, in my opinion) or you’re a delusional Dumpee – in which case, this one’s for you.
Of all the videos of adorable, precocious children making the rounds this week, this little dude possibly, maybe takes the cake. While many kids dream of being firefighters, or doctors, or president if they’re the over-achieving type, Jessie is aiming for something a bit more on the practical side…Governor of New Jersey. Video inside.
Why do so many straight guys think it’s funny to hit on gay guys? I can’t tell you the number of times that a straight guy has grabbed my ass, package, or groped me, trying to be flirty. Being a gay guy, of course, I’ve read too much into this and mistaken it for actual flirting, only to be horribly embarrassed when they say, “Oh no, bro, I’m just messing with ya.” Well STOP messing with me!
Whenever my girlfriend has a girls night out or hangs out with her gay friends, I always get the sneaking suspicion that she’s using it as a way to talk shit about our relationship. What’s the deal? What do girls really say behind their boyfriend’s back? I know you know, Gay Dude.
Do you really want to say the words “…so, you grew up Harrisburg?” while some dick airs out his soulful acoustic cover of “Bad Romance” in the corner? No, you do not. Live music is loud, distracting, and frequently terrible, so avoid band bars at all costs.
Look, not that I need to justify myself to you, but I read all the time. I read lots of books, many of them long, most with multi-syllabic words. And like the marathon runner who keeps a rigorous diet is allowed a slice of cake every now and again, I can take my brain out of the fridge and let it sit on the counter for a while, growing spores as I soak in the obnoxious giggles of past-their-prime mean girls.
And all of that time spent solving puzzles and repeatedly jumping from platform to platform in search of some obscure, poorly-named artifact like The Lance of the Argyle Dragoon or Whatever did wonders for my lateral and creative thinking skills. Indeed, like most boys, I even dreamed of one day designing my own videogames.
Google has selected Kansas City to be the site of their experiment in ultra fast internet – Google Fiber – which will apparently be up to 100 times faster than average American internet speeds. Reaching speeds of one gigabit per second, Kansas City residents will soon be able to download full-length HD porno films in about five minutes
Last night, Godspeed You! Black Emperor, the celebrated post-rock band from Montreal, Quebec, played to a sold-out crowd in Detroit. This was the last American date of their reunion tour. I was lucky enough to be a part of the experience and learned a couple things along the way.
What hate! What outrage! But the truth is I love every word of it. Trolls – you validate me. You add extra verve to my posts, and sometimes you say things that are more amusing than what I wrote to begin with.
Both Wallace and Murphy worked within the formal constraints of the very genres they were trying to transcend: Murphy used the sleek superficiality of dance music to explore some profound emotional experiences, while Wallace used the grammar and trickery of metafiction to expose the pitfalls of the avant-garde and ironic.
I listen to Grizzly Bear because I’m young. I love riding my bike to the summer festivals in a crop top and tweeting, “Riding my beach cruiser in a crop top to see grizzly b. Summer skin, laughter and mimosas!” I’ll then do a Twitpic and post it to my Facebook and Tumblr, and by the end of the night, my vapid youth will have cum all over the world wide web.
My friend’s been RTing Violent J’s tweets lately, and they’re actually pretty damn funny. Of course, Violent J isn’t trying to be funny. At least – he’s not trying to be ironic funny. Like “look at this fucking Violent J” funny. Because Violent J certainly isn’t trying to be that kind of funny… they’re more like endearing, somewhat offensive, and ultimately, brutishly innocent.
Moreau is being completely serious when he says things like, “All disco balls slow down and eventually stop. You must make the choice here to be a boy of Chelsea.” His book claims to explore the culture of the famed Chelsea neighborhood—something he sees as being overrun with drug and alcohol benders, and long nights dancing to Abba.
In the new film Rubber, a tire that can roll itself around and explode people’s heads goes on a killing spree. Rubber is the second feature by French electro house musician Quentin Dupieux, also known as Mr. Oizo (a play on the French word for “bird”).
Depression may seem like something the majority of the population tries to avoid, but let me tell you from experience, it ain’t half bad. I was mildly depressed as a teenager and it kind of sucked, but that’s only because my adolescent self didn’t know how to recognize this beautiful gift that was being bestowed upon me.
The goal is to face grief every time it says “Sup?” and be like, “What the fuck? You again? I thought I banished you after a year of therapy! Ugh, fine. What do you want to do today? Lie in bed and listen to sad songs all day? Fine! But you leave tomorrow!”
So my ex is over. At my house. For the first time since the first time after a long time. Only three days after the first time after a long time. We shouldn’t be here really. I’m making tea and telling him about how I have a blog now. He’s calling at me from the lounge. His new job pays less but it’s fewer hours and he’s actually really connecting with the kids.
If there’s one thing I’ve noticed about many men that I haven’t personally browbeaten into submission, it’s that they don’t seem to care that much about what they wear. And the only reason I have moved to Europe is that I’m willing to sacrifice men’s charming command of my mother tongue for their ability to pair a scarf with a button-down.
Here’s the thing though – we’re really flattered you guys would even ask if you could stay at our house. But I noticed you’ve got a lot of people with you. Did you meet all of them here at the rock club? Or did they come with you from Brooklyn?
11:25 AM: Leave home with aspirations of walking over the Williamsburg Bridge instead of taking the extremely convenient subway. Sure, it’s 35 degrees outside, but it’s sunny! And you’re out of shape! Time to get ambitious. 11:35 AM: It’s windy as hell, but you’re burning calories and your body is becoming a ball of confusion. Take off your jacket.
Static factors were the road and signage conditions on the drive to the parking lot: sudden forks in the road, no accompanying sign (or an indecipherable one), arbitrarily changing sign colors and sizes, blockage of key signage by light poles, trees, and other signs, fellow drivers under similar stress exhibiting erratic driving and screaming in foreign languages, exorbitant parking lot prices, an invariable lack of parking spaces.
Below are the following stores that will make you feel like a walrus. Their sizing is the rudest—sometimes it’s even European which is doubly rude—and the store employees are the big bullies on the fashion playground. When entering these places, make sure to wear your self-esteem vest: Size XXL.
The seed grows into an unfortunate new reality that we must regularly take into consideration. It develops factual intricacies that further define its terror: there can be no satisfactory time limit to commitment, commitment until things get rough is not commitment, certain parts of the world are now off-limits, compromise has replaced idealism, boredom is contextually normal, no more sex with ANYONE ELSE.
Arrive alone at a party that you ‘just kind of heard of’ even though no attendee specifically invited you. This way, when people welcoming you make casual conversation to the effect of ‘so who do you know here tonight’ in an attempt to determine their own potential connection to you, you can respond evasively or turn the question back around on the asker.
Thou shalt never give thy friend with benefits the following things: a mixed CD, a toothbrush, a massage, flowers, chocolate, a trip to the cinema or opera, a flirty comment on his or her Facebook wall, too many explanations.
In the morning, these trains are dull and akin to anyone’s subway or bus commute, if fueled by a bit more aggressive energy due to the commute’s length. At night, as commuters, having worked all day, wait out the train ride to get home and entertain themselves with socializing, drink, and who knows what else, things get weird.
In describing the Blow Up, you can use words like “alienation.” It is based on a short story of the same name by Julio Cortázar, an author who smart people read. The final scene, a mimed tennis match, goes down as one of the best in cinema history.
I love this country, don’t get me wrong. Despite its awful reputation Stateside, there are many things about France that I find charming, amusing, or worthy of a distinct lowering of my morals (hey, fellas!). But while I’d love to pretend that Paris is the metropolitan equivalent of an Edith Piaf song dipped in chocolate, there are many things here that simply blow.
During a USA-Argentina international friendly at New Jersey’s New Meadowlands Stadium this weekend, a moment of silence was held to honor the victims of the Japanese earthquake and tsunami. But, as is wont to happen when you have thousands of drunk people in the same place, some fans refused to keep quiet.
Now, don’t get yourself in a tizzy (I’ve never written that word before: tizzy. I like it). Greenpeace might very well be a fine organization doing a world of good. I have no idea. Nor, really, do I care. What interests me is that this encounter was such a familiar encounter: it was consumerist.
Now there’s Facebook. Facebook: where you can look into the boy’s life you love everyday for every second, wondering, pondering, yearning to know if he’s doing the same and is fraught with the same rush of indecisiveness and anxiety as you.
Stories of priests and other religious figures engaged in sexual misconduct, abuse, and rape are so prevalent and commonplace these days that we can almost predict the stories before we’ve even read them. But every once in a while, there’s an exceptional case, such as ex-pastor Brent Girouex, who engaged in these behaviors for the sake of purging young male church-goers of their homosexual urges.
Unemployment is high, the economy is bad, thousands of people have died in the aftermath of Japan’s earthquake and tsunami. And, according to owner Lakita Evans, that’s a good enough reason to call your burger joint “Fat Ho Burgers.” The new Waco, Texas restaurant serves dishes like the delightfully named “Supa Dupa Fly Ho With Cheese” and “Fat Chicken Ho,” but it’s mostly just an attempt at humor, says Evans.
Somehow, the three most politically incorrect people on the planet have found a politically correct way to rehash the age-old argument that the world’s wretched suffer because they have yet to discover the power of Christ.
Ushering in a new era of self-denial and douchebaggery, a new web startup called Cloud Girlfriend promises its users a fake, virtual girlfriend who will ‘accompany’ them on Facebook, maybe Twitter, maybe… YouTube?
In an event that took place last Wednesday, Orlando Sentinel “pool reporter” (transcriber) Scott Powers found himself sequestered in a large closet or storage room in the mansion of millionaire Alan Ginsburg. Scott was there to cover a fundraising event for Senator Bill Nelson of Florida where Vice President Joe Biden was slated to speak.
It’s been a reasonable humiliating amount of time since I’ve had a long-term, serious relationship, and I finally feel emotionally ready to henpeck someone into oblivion again. I’ve taken my time, gone on many dates, resisted settling, broken a few hearts (but never had mine broken—insert robotic laugh here) and I feel I have a good handle on exactly what I want in my life.
Pat your love interest’s head when they say something you approve of. Pet the underside of their chin and whisper four letter words like “soft,” “nice,” and “face.” Lie on the floor listening to “1979” by the Smashing Pumpkins and make irrelevant commentary about forest animals before making out. Wait till the song ends before moving to the bed.
Or, like, your second-craziest dream. In this one, Justin Bieber gets nominated for yet another award that he will obviously win because pop culture is ruled by tweenagers who don’t believe in music, and then NO, GUESS WHAT, Neil Young, the godfather of grunge, wins it. That happened. Actually.
If I’m getting fucked in the ass, I need to know way in advance so I can prepare properly. The guy needs to send me a private Facebok event invitation titled, “Ryan O’Connell gets fucked in the ass.” with a set date and time.
I have a scar on my lower right abdomen from a herniated protrusion, which is when your guts “pop out” of their abdominal lining, often dropping into the testes. No 2-year-old should have guts for balls, no matter how manly it may sound.
Book clubs—the phrase alone conjures up the taste of white wine and melty cheese cubes and a vision of copies of The Deep End of the Ocean, only the first halves even slightly perused. We can thank Oprah for this template, despite her best intentions, but it’s also kind of a primal urge to get together and drink, and a slightly-less primal urge to conceal this liquoring-up behind the veneer of literature.
Watching Thirteen made me think that I had done middle school all wrong. Instead of watching Dawson’s Creek and crying myself to sleep every night, I should’ve been getting stoned, hooking up with a hot older neighbor and forgetting how to spell the word “photographer.”
I have come to the conclusion that I can no longer fuck with hallucinogenic mushrooms. It’s taken five trips, four of which could only be described as a sneak peek of the afterlife destination most commonly referred to as hell, to decide this.
As an erotic accessory, the Merkin knows no bounds; it can be used by men in drag, or it can act as a decorative object, suggestive of sexual innocence, promiscuity, or any other number of sexually charged meanings. Merkinworld.com offers customized Merkins for adventurous clientele curious about sprucing up their bush area.
