Shame on you, Con Ed!

One of the contraband purchases my friend, Matt and I made at Wal-Mart was a sweet bike for his neighbor, Trey. Trey is a young teenager and works part-time.. So Matt bought the bike for Trey and Trey would work it off with his savings. Sounds all-American and great, right.

Wrong. Thanks to Con Ed.

Matt texted me last night, "Freakin' Con Ed got Trey's bike stolen!" Apparently what happened is that Trey locked it to a No Parking sign in front of a Con Ed building. When Trey went into a deli some goons from Con Ed came out and cut the bike chain and threw the bike into the street where it was promptly stolen (as it was a sweet Mongoose).

I mean everyone hates Con Ed, right. But now we have proof fact that Con Ed are goddamn assholes.


This is Trey.


I knew I had a bike.


Seriously, what the fuck?

The building the Con Ed guys are hiding in.

Fresh Direct Politico

What say you, lobster?

"Bush makes me crabby!"

Well put.

I *heart* crack

A promo for "Being Bobby Brown."

This sign is almost 100% unblemished. Except for Whitney's wife-beater (I'm drowning in irony.) But what does that say? Let's look closer.

Please notice how 'I heart crack' is the only writing anywhere. I love that! An entire Brooklyn community looked at this poster and decided that, as far as graffiti goes, this work of art is complete.

Hell to the yes.

Childhood Lost

I know exactly the moment my childhood was over. I was about 7 years old and I was sitting with my Dad in the den watching TV. An ad for Ivory soap came on and boasted that Ivory was 99.9% pure. We had used Ivory for years, but recently switched to Dove soap. I asked my father why we switched to Dove, since Ivory was 99.9% pure.

He answered, "Yeah. So's acid."

Fin Childhood.

Is this wrong?

I don't have kids. But I think it would be nice to have a child kidnapped. Because the thrill of the return must be so great.

Fire Island and Robyn Bird

I spent a weekend in Fire Island courtesy of some good friends over at HX Magazine. And it was a blast. The train to Sayville proved exciting as I watched a drunk man ask two Asian people if they 'spoke Japanese' and 'knew Kung-Fu.' Me and the hot man in the cowboy hat shared a knowing smile over that one. I, like most straight women, are very comfortable flirting with gay men. No risk!

Fire Island brought fun and gorgeous weather and...Robyn Bird. It's true! I swam in the famed Robyn Bird's pool. And that's not even a euphemism for anything. It is a real pool with water and swimming things.

A bunch of us were walking on the beach when Peter (one of my hosts) decided to stop by Robyn's house. And like any good New York sex green should, she answered the door 100% buck naked. With her dog, Om, in her arms. It was official. I was in Fire Island.

Robyn and her partner/husband, Shelly, were more than gracious hosts. Offering us Coors Light and Vodka and Diet Cokes. Robyn was as comfortable as the day is long in her nudity. Me, I'm awkward in a bathing suit. Be she was a nude as nude gets. Like it doesn't get any nuder. Although at one point she checked the weather on the barometer on her watch. My friend, Trent, aptly observed that, "the woman is nude but is wearing a barometer." Well done, Mr. Straube.

Robyn delighted us with a story of her dog getting lost in the "Meat Rack" (a gay men cruising area). So a nude Robyn Bird was walking through the Meat Rack yelling, "Om! Come!"

I had the notion to wander through the Meat Rack and my friend, Cari told me I'd be the safest women in the world. I thought it would be funny to wander through yelling desperately, "Can someone fuck me?" Gay men are friendly, they would have obliged.

A 'fan' email

The other day, I received this 'fan' email that I'll share. To paraphrase "Rushmore," with fans like these who needs fans.

I warn you. It's kind of disturbing. Maybe not so much disturbing as repetitive and weird. It's written by the kind of guy who gets turned on by women talking about bunions or ovarian cysts. Weird to the core. Those with delicate dispositions please don't read any further. Also if you're my brother. Geoff, skip this post. Everyone else enjoy. And I am using the word 'enjoy' to mean 'continue.'

"How's it going? I'm no one of consequence. I was just browsing on the web and came across a site of yours and was reading about the time you got kicked in the puss while doing the splits. Hehe, I mean, ouch!! Those kind've shots are always funny when you're not the one getting cuntbusted or ballbusted. Was that the only time it's ever happened to you? I saw a lady get punched in the puss today and she dropped to her knees instantly. I guess I didn't think it really hurt a girl all that much. I mean, I figured for girls it was like getting hit anywhere else. But, I guess not. So, what's it like for a girl to get punched in the puss? Is it different for all girls or will all girls pretty much drop to their knees every time from a punch like that? It was just a kid, but he nailed her right on the lips, very low low low low low. Maybe that's why it was so bad? Thank for your time.
Jack"