Thursday, August 30, 2007

Men's Magazines Are a Decoy

No no, that is actually not me, I am sorry for any confusion that might cause

She was bikini clad, covered in oil, tanner then a Mexican laying on a piece of tinfoil and staring down at me with her 36 DD’s.

“This one?” the bodega owner said curiously, holding up the magazine.

Hotty McHot bodega man here rocks the blue vest, he is good with a register
“Ah yes, that one!” I smiled, as he handed over to me the new, fresh issue of GQ .
I remember the first time I bought a men’s magazine I told my friend, “What better way to learn about men then by reading men’s magazines?”

“Well Kim,” She said. “You could actually date a man to learn about men.”

“No, no, no, no!" I yelled. “What kind of gibberish is that! Listen, I don’t have time for dirty socks and wiping away tears and potty training…I don’t have time to ‘date a man’ , I have work and a life and a serious cocaine habit to keep up with!”

When I started reading the actual magazine, I remember opening the crisp pages only to find something that I can only describe as shocking, disturbing and something that truly upset me to the core...there were articles about …wait for it…wait for it….feelings (who?)…
depression (what?).. social pressure (when?)...and anxiety(where?)…I thought maybe I had picked up a decoy GQ by accident. What the hell was I reading?! Men have e-motions? And feel-ings? BLASPHEMY!

What I imagine men's magazine to be full of, fashion wise of course,
I mean it looks like a replacement to the monkey suit, more durable,
lighter fabric, breathable, all around good choice

Instead of articles on the predicted jock-itch, pictures of naked people dancing and Crayola drawings of superman and penises…there were actual words... words that contains letters... and these ‘words’ sometimes formed into sentences…were men actual human beings? Humans who bled? And felt things? And cared about actual things…such as, people? I couldn’t believe it! I can’t believe it! I shant believe it!

Wednesday, August 29, 2007

Lessons to My Non-Conceived Son

Being that I am ridiculously good looking as well as vastly intelligent and incredibly humble, I have come to the idea that it is inevitable the I am going to soon be married and popping out kids. Now I know what you are thinking, “but Kim, what does this have to do with you being the next supermodel of the world” and nothing except that when I become a model I will rename the ‘super model’ into the ‘uber model’..and oh wait, what? I am sorry, what were we talking about? … Oh right, so when I have kids I have decided to make a list of the first things I am going to tell my son when he is born, and being that he will be a child of mine I assume he will be speaking English, Spanish, Portuguese, punting field goals and doing math equations with square roots times infinity.. all by the age 3 months…so a little life lesson at age 1 week will not be to tough for him…hence I continue on to my life lessons for my son:

- There are no cool ‘guy sunglasses’, they do not exist, ‘tiss the way of the world, your sunglasses will either make you look like you’re going skiing or flying an airplane plane

- Your little impression of ‘driving a toy truck’ will never impress me, I don’t care that you can push around a Tonka truck, if you can turn that Tonka truck into a pile of diamonds, then we’ll talk

I only respond to diamonds, they make good friends
and who needs real love when you can have the love
of something shiny

- Don’t try and talk to girls unless you have something interesting to say, no one will care that you “are hungry” or “need a break from sewing mommy’s dresses”…no one.. and you certainly wont impress other girls with that

- Crying is never appropriate, when you are hurt or sad, you take it like a man and go punch yourself in the balls… or whatever it is that men do when their sad

- Be a man at the gym, I don’t care that you are “12 days old” and “can’t keep up with mommy on the StairMaster” you better strap on that diaper real tight and start steppin!

Tuesday, August 28, 2007

Drinking Problems

Back, during the age of Yore, or Yoni, or Yoda, or something with a Y, I lived in a quaint 2 bedroom over on 80th Street. And by "quaint", I do mean, "really goddamn small" and by "really goddamn small" I do mean "confinement rooms in Armenian prisons were bigger." And even though the building had a no-pet zone, people were free to walk their roaches and mice daily and have them come over to our apartment for play dates and to learn pet tricks...I'm sorry, wait what? Those weren't play dates? No? Those were actual untamed mice and roaches living in our kitchen? But how did they know all those hula hoop tricks?...

Look at this little bitch, what is she doing
and more to the point what is
she wearing, seriously someone should tell her that her
shoes are so last season.

...I digress... I realized that living in the small space that is New York City it is very important you pick up one characteristic that will help you get through the good times, the bad times, the times when you think you have no hope left at all.... Alcoholism.

Thus began what some people call, -'The Summer of '04' I like to call the- "What? There was Summer? When Did I miss that? Was I Seeping? Can Someone Turn Off the Damn Heat, Summer'

During this summer I learned many important things in life. For starters- the bush outside my doorstop was a lovely place to "take a nap"when you couldn't walk up the stairs after the bars and just "needed 5 minutes, just 5 minutes to rest... just let me sleep in this bush for 5 more minutes officer!"... I also learned during this time, that a cinnamon raisin with butter from H&H Bagels on 81st street tastes magically good at 4am. It is like they put fairy stardust in it and you want to scream from the rooftops, "Who created such magically good tasting cinnamon raisin deliciousness?!'....Until of course the workers at H&H ask you to step off your metal chair and stop screaming to the bush outside...But again, I digress.... I discovered that summer that you officially know you have a drinking problem when everything in your new apartment is analyzed according to how drunk you will have to be to break it.

Thats how they serve you bagels at 4am...with cinnamon
sticks next to them and a jam jar made by Martha Stewart herself

My roommate and I went through our place room by room. By the first week we had come to the conclusion that:

#1-Painting on wall was too close to fridge...when drunk, will knock into painting

#2- Must put fish netting under balcony, will fall off it when drunk

#3- Steps to bedroom must be carpeted, or will slip when drunk and fall on back (and by "will" I do mean "have, done, taken care of")

#4- Wheels on bed frame must be taken off, otherwise will roll bed down street for amusement when drunk

Monday, August 27, 2007

Working Out 101

I have discovered over many years of soul searching that even though I spend 5 days a week, one hour a day in the realm of elliptical heaven, I actually don’t like working out. Actually I don’t like working out at all.

Actually I like working out about as much as I like falling spread eagle onto a balance beam.
There are the things I don’t like about the gym:

You sweat, and sweating is gross. Sweating is like water that drops from your body. Gross. Sweating also ruins my bronzer…that’s really uncool.

Trainers like to use made-up terms to confuse you. Terms like “cardiovascular”, “fitness” and “aerobic activity” .... Well that whack slang isn’t fooling me. Let’s call training what it really is…making me look like an asshole.

I won’t use machines that make me look stupid at the gym. The only reason I workout is to look cool. Looking cool in the gym is important, so anything that involves silly motions like, “running” or "walking”, I wont do.

It is hard to find cute workout clothes, mostly because they are made out of Satan's material, otherwise known as "cotton". And worst yet, you can’t wear heels. How am I supposed to look good in cotton and flats? What am doing here in this outfit? Curing diabetes in a village or something?

Angry Man

When it comes to picking up girls in a bar, there are many ways a man can go about it. Persistence…flattery…roofies…. But no way more brilliant than the angry man tactic. I have come across many ‘angry men’ in my day and let me tell you, there is nothing that says ‘take me home and bed me tiger’ than a man yelling at me over a beer. Whoa, yell at me some more you manly animal and get my engines running.

The angry man has a few key characteristics to watch out for…primary he is.. angry. This is why scientists and intellects like myself refer to him as “angry man”. It is a very scientific term and has profound roots in Latin I believe…or something similar.

The angry man posses this trait called, “being a douchbag”. And he tries to use this ‘douchbag’ trait as a way to pick up women. Dear good sir can I have a douchbag of my very own? One day when I grow up and become a lady, I want an asshole to come yell at me in a bar! Oh pretty please can I have a douchbag of my very own for my birthday? Can Jesus send one to me in a Fed-Ex pouch from Heaven?

- The angry man will pick a fight with you at the bar so that you pay him some attention. The angry man says to himself, “How can I make this lovely girl turn around and notice me? …I know, how about I turn around and punch her in the fucking face”…

- Angry man loves to yell at you for not noticing him. How dare you not notice angry man in the corner waiting to yell at you for not noticing him?! Can’t you see? He has everything you want?! He is angry! Women don’t dream about men on white horses, no, they dream about waiting to be cornholed in the face.

- Angry man loves to approach you and insult you upon first approach. What a clever little man angry man is, how did he KNOW women love to be insulted! There is no better way to make me want you then by a clear well-executed insult…make fun of the way I talk? Well just take me home tonight lover! Insult a hot girl and she will think to herself, “Who is this angry man insulting me, Hot Girl, he must be brave warrior, I must take him home now back to my layer."

- Angry man will get angry when you do not want to fight back with him, also know as ‘engaging in conversation with him’. He wants to make sure you know one thing, he is angry.
This is why I raise my glass and toast to you angry man. For getting more drinks thrown in your face than a leprechaun at an anti-midget parade.

I toast to you for being the biggest A-hole at the bar and knowing it! You have discovered the secret to picking up women, now you will have to excuse me I believe I got a very large package from Jesus sitting in my mailbox right now.

Angry Man:
A Picture Summary:

Ohh is he yelling? He looks like a bowl of fun...did he steal that haircut from Jazzy Jeff and the Fresh Prince? this guy isn't even that angry but I just posted it anyway...mostly because it makes me laugh ...and yet makes Jesus cry all at the same time...