Hiiiiiiiick!

Living with a goddamn hick definitely has its ups, like how I never ever have to worry about the house being out of ketchup, and also its downs, like when I say "mm this juice is delicious" and Hick says "innit?"

In the past weeks I have caught sight of the following startling bumpkin erupt out of that girl:

- Hick bobbing in front of the toaster-oven in apparent anticipation of the MUFFIN which she removes from said t.o. and then FROSTs with extreme glee; this has happened on two separate occasions

- Hick, upon learning that whenever the toilet is flushed a pipe leaks, determining that she'll "just have to pee in the bathtub again"

- Hick making out with a middle aged pickle vendor at the Medieval Fair (yes)

- Hick exclaiming "It's Thursday night and I don't have any work to do, let's go to the Dollar Store" in elation

- Hick pointing at the TV and squealing "WHOO YEE PEYTON MANNING!" having seen some kind of football ad

- Hick referring to a jank City Sun Tanning commercial as "the classiest fucking commericial I've ever seen"

BONUS Hick IM conversation:
10:53
BEEEEPEP BEPP BEEEP BEP DEE DEEP
10:53
OOOOGA bunga
cowabunga dude
10:53
chimmmmm chiim chim chim chim charreee
10:54
fleep a dee deep

OMG Do You Think There Is An Age Limit for Campers?

Circus Camp Director

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Reply to: job-440118561@craigslist.org
Date: 2007-10-04, 4:14PM EDT


Summer camp seeking a Director for Circus Camp program. Circus/performance experience and camp experience required. Day camp program operates from June 30-Aug 22.

Look At That Punim!

So I just found out that this weekend is National Alpaca Farm Day, which has gotten me all hot and bothered for a number of reasons.

First of all, as everyone knows, I LOVE alpacas!... or at least I love the massive alpaca coat I have and how it not only got me through two Massachusetts winters, but also got me 50 cents the time I wore it on the T with fingerless gloves and an empty coffee cup and a lady thought I was homeless.

This is relevant as my plan re: National Alpaca Farm Day, in which you're supposed to travel to your local alpaca farm and get cozy with the inmates, involves the coat in a big way. Basically what I'm thinking is that if I cloak myself in the coat Tobias-on-Blind-Elaine-Benes-style and then approach a beast at my local it'll think I'm a mysterious new lady alpaca and wanna make friends and maybe even give me a snuggle or a ride. WISH ME LUCK!

As excited as I am, however, I do have a few general questions in regards to NAFD:
1) Why is that shit called National Alpaca Farm DAY when the poster and website say that that day is September 29th AND 30th? Lame! Clearly the problem is that most of us have too much alpaca love to cram into just one day, but that's not something we should be hiding! Call it National Alpaca Farm Weekend, NAFD organizers! Embrace that.
2) What is the deal with that neon purple alpaca towards the left of the poster in the background? Is he for real? If so, those are the boots I want definitely.
3) On the NAFD website under "read the details" (?) I noticed that a reason why you should engage in NAFD is that it will "give you an opportunity to learn alpacas and meet new people living this satisfying and rewarding lifestyle." ... Umm, bascuse me? "Learn alpacas"?? At first I thought they meant we could learn alpaca like alpaca language, which would be A.MAZ.ING, but now I'm thinking that this whole "day" is maybe being organized by some goddamn mongoloid OR (could it be?) by the ALPACAS themselves! Either way, something a bit weird is going on and this weekend I'm gonna find out what that something is.

All I know right now is that that 'paca on the left has the cutest lil face I have ever fucking seen.

Stoners In The Mist!

Wow. Thank you, Above the Influence. Through your super-cool ad-campaign which you spread around the Internets, you have really taught me valuable lessons about the dangers of marijuana, which (apparently) include running over cardboard cutouts of people, and, most notably, finding chunks of brownie in your hair (I wish!).

Although the Above The Influence campaign has certainly touched us all, nothing can compare to my anti-drug (and favorite superbowl commercial to date) starring Fieldston's favorite top model, class of '05.

Enjoy (with caution)!

BADASS GOOSE ALERT

*

Harry Potter's Naked Ass Out In Limited Release

Some of you who in youth followed the exploits of a certain nasty immigrant duo may recall my small inclination for Harry Potter and his rock body. Of late, as steadily that body has grown into the form of a man's, so has the lust grown. This is the result of four main factors: 1) the promise that Equus, the London play in which Harry Potter can be seen completely naked and fucking a horse live on stage (see picture), is coming to Broadway, 2) the fact that he turned 18 this summer (awesome because regular rape for sure means lower bail than statutory), 3) this direct invitation, and 4) the emergence of two photos: a gay stripper number, and a cock shot which, though fake, stirred emotions and an investigation by the L word and myself which were very, very real.

So imagine my excitement upon discovering the following:

TeenHollywood: Okay, the boys moon someone in December Boys. Was that a fanny double?

Daniel: [laughs] No. That's me, that's the genuine Radcliffe ass. It certainly is. I'm proud of it. *

OH. GOD. And all that genuine Potter ass pride is just sitting there at 68th st, waiting for me. I think I'm gonna be proud too.

Working Girl

Greetings from merry old England! I’m the new man around hamburbloggers and I’m here to keep you all up to speed on the goings on in Ye Old London town. I’m sure you will all find that shit very exciting. This story, however, has nothing to do with London, England, or traveling, and may indeed be the sketchiest thing that’s ever happened to me in the city. Enjoy

As I was walking home from mo'money’s house last night (or two nights ago, I have no clue, I’m fucking jet lagged), my leisurely walk home was stopped by a Don’t Walk sign at 103^rd and b-way. Being the good, if somewhat fucked up, Samaritan, I of course stop. I’m really not paying that much attention to my surroundings, fantasying about how English people will love me and my charming American ways, when suddenly a sultry feminine voice croons into my ear, “Hey you looking for a date." My first thought was, how does she know that? I am looking for a date. It’s been a while since I’ve been in the dating scene or what have you, but I have been looking to get back in - find the right girl, settle down, have some kids, yadda yadda yadda. But then as the slow gears in my brain start working, I realize that a woman saying that in your ear at 3 a.m. on Broadway has less to do with getting dinner and a movie, a cup of coffee, or a beer, and much more to do with me give her 20 bones for a blowjob. I, feeling very uncomfortable, say "I'm sorry ma'am, I don't have that much money," and try and walk away. She follows me saying, "well how much you got?" This of course, stops me dead in my tracks – part of me wants to see just how far I can get this lady-of-the-night to drop her price, and the sane part of my brain wants to go home without an STD. This is when I actually look at her face, and the part that wants to haggle shuts up. I tell her politely that I'm not looking for a date and keep walking. I think that I'm now in the clear, and that was just something silly that happens sometimes in the city.

Two blocks later her pimp catches up to me. Her motherfucking PIMP. He is a big big scary looking gangbanger, not at all like the Snoop-Dog-cute pimps that you see in movies. This is a fucking scary-guy-trying-to-make-ends-meet-by-selling-the-bodies-
of-women-he-regularly-beats-up pimp. I'm calculating how high pitched and loud I can scream if he tries anything. "Hey Man you looking for a girl?" No I say, and keep walking. He is now walking beside me. "Well I got other girls if you didn't like that one. You want a white girl?" Why the fuck does he have to go and make it all racial? No, I say, beside the oral herpes, that one was fine. He is still following me. "Well would you like some drugs?" No, I'm fine thanks, I already did some tonight and I think I'm good. "Do you wanna come smoke a joint with me?" No thank you. I am humbled by your generosity in sharing your bud, but frankly I'm terrified of you and I just want go home now. "That's cool. Sorry to bother you man. I'm sure you don't need to tell nobody 'bout this. Have a good night." I can't even begin to think who would want to hear about this sir. "Bye." He smiles, showing his teeth, several of which are missing, and a few of them are gold. He then turns around and walks the other way. I keep walking toward my house, never looking behind me, because I'm too terrified he is following me.

So the moral of this story is this: If approached by a lady of the night, don’t tell her you don’t have enough money. Tell her you have none. Also real pimps are scary and yet very polite. Oh and I guess the last moral of the story is that if you wanna buy a cheep hooker you can find them at 103 and b-way.

LDR OUT