I’m gearing up for a joint birthday party tomorrow night. Mine and my arborist friend’s, to be specific. It’s not really a party. It’s just me at the bar I always go to joined by more people I know than usual.
Today I visited the 99 Cent store next to the strip club in my neighborhood. Stocked up on balloons and streamers. Now I just need an embarrassing cake. Ideally I would like this one:
That thing is pimp, right? Hershey Kisses on the bottom. Ivy made out of GUMMIES? Genius.
Speaking of genius:
Yes. Yes, I would like a piece of that.
This one, though, takes the figurative and literal cake:
And this would be the last resort:
Posted in Friends, Hangovers, Humor, Life, Men, Thoughts
Tagged 99 cent stores, arborists, balloons, birthday cake, chuck norris, princesses, ronald reagan, streamers, strip clubs, tom selleck
There’s a commercial that I keep seeing for New York Sports Club. I haven’t complained about it yet because I can’t find it online anywhere, so I’ll just break it down–
A man in his mid- to late 20s stands at his bedroom window and peers into a neighbor’s window where a woman of comparable age begins stripping for him. She’s beautiful and stuff. She wears red underwear. And after she’s done doing her striptease she beckons for the man to reciprocate. So he begins, but as soon as he takes his shirt off, she slams her blinds shut in absolute horror at his lack of tone and definition.
Offensive, right? I know I’m not the only one who’s tired of human beings being portrayed as shallow bastards. There’s nothing wrong with going to the gym to feel healthy, to feel better about your body–but don’t tell me to go to impress some judgmental exhibitionist next door.
There’s so much unecessary, harmful emphasis placed on the idea of perfecting body image and body performance. A couple years ago I needed my wisdom teeth out and the oral surgeon’s office was littered with pamphlets about his other specialty–injecting Botox. I still wish I had opted for a different person to do the procedure. This Botox ad with Virginia Madsen makes me so depressed:
It’s like…really? You watch Obama speak for an hour about the economic situation and as soon as you’re back to regular programming there are Diane Lane and Virginia Madsen selling unnecessary shit. It’s ridiculous. I can’t afford a sports club membership. Nor can I afford a caffeine-infused serum for the bags under my eyes.
All that said, I’m pretty sure the only relief is multiple viewings of Sidekicks, the uplifting and bizarre 1992 film in which Chuck Norris helps an asthmatic, daydreaming teenager become a martial arts champ.
Yeah, top of the Netflix queue.