Some shout-outs that are ever so deserved of shout-outing:

1) If you are not checking Cracked, you are missing out.  Among other things, the article a few days ago on Kimmie Gibler is brilliant.  Great site and time-killer.

AND you should go out right now and buy Cracked – the actual, real-live in-print magazine – because it’s funny but also because, well, guess who contributed to it?  That’s right.  In addition to being a blogger, soon-to-be memoirist, kind of sitcom writer, and bearer of tiny testes, we can now add "freelance writer" to my list of titles (and it’s paid!). 

(You can find Cracked wherever magazines are sold.) 

2) While I’m congratulating myself, I’m on the cover of a paper in Philly called the Irish Edition, which, not surprisingly, offers news and information to Irish Americans.  The article is very nice (and the cover picture ain’t that bad) and will be posted here, along with my appearance in NYC’s Irish Examiner from last month, under the "Press" section on the right once I get in touch with Site Guy Brendan.  Finally, this Irish American stuff is working out for me.  Whew.   

(It’s a monthly publication so get out and get the August issue, Philly peeps.)

3) If you enjoy this site – which might be a big presumption on my part – you are doing a disservice to yourself if you are not watching the Comedy Central show "Dog Bites Man."  I’ve pimped this before, but I just got reacquainted with my Tivo and watched a few episodes last night and this is the funniest show since "Ali G."  There were actual tears coming out of my eyes watching it – and those who know me know that I don’t laugh at very much.  The dream dinner with Kevin Beekin bit was incredible. Check it out. 

4) This blog is fucking terrific.  So is this one.  And of course, the only blog I check 20 times a day (though I know most of these guys, so that might be cheating).  Spread the word, treat them like you have treated me, and tell them I sent you (in case they have any female friends they can introduce me to). 

5) Blue Diamond "Smokehouse" Almonds are possibly the greatest things I’ve ever tasted.  I could eat these all day long – and I do. 

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I don’t want to give an update on the diet this week.  The final weigh-in is next Friday (8/25) and I want to surprise you then.  Also in a moment of weakness I had a donut this morning.  Fuck. 

Two things to discuss though:

1) Guys, I’ve done a lot of field research on this and have made an important discovery that should be immediately instituted into the Rules of Gym Etiquette:

There is no reason to be balls-naked in a locker room for longer than seven seconds.

There are two types of guys in the gym locker room: those who change at a normal speed and those who act as though they are in their own bathrooms, traipsing around completely naked, twig and berries flopping in the breeze. 

I’ve timed it and seven seconds is a perfectly reasonable amount of time for a man to switch from a towel to a pair of underwear.  Seriously, next time you do this, count it off in your head.  Seven seconds is more than enough time to make the switch.

[Go ahead, count in your head right now.  I'll wait.]

[...]

[Told you, right?  Seven is fine.]

Yet that doesn’t prevent many gym goers for walking around with the gennies out for every man to see.  Yesterday, I got to the gym pretty late, which meant that as I was changing to begin working out many were coming out of the showers and dressing to go home.  It was crowded so I couldn’t get a locker in my normal place and had to settle in in a unfamiliar territory.  Next to me, not three feet away, was a jacked black dude getting changed.  Not a big deal.  But then the dude took off his towel, put it on the bench that my bag was on, and sat down balls naked on the bench.  I don’t know what he was doing during this time, as my back was turned to him, but he sat there naked the entire time I got ready (we’re talking three or four minutes of completely unnecessary nudity). 

I mean, what the fuck?  I get it, dude – you’re jacked and your bird is probably bigger than my forearm, but I’m not interested in what you’re selling.  Well, not totally uninterested, but not at that time. 

Then there’s the 40-something Asian guy who sits on a bench in a locker room stark naked leisurely reading the paper.  You have to remember, this is the NYC Sports Club in Soho after work.  It is NOT empty.  While getting dressed or undressed, you are within two or three lockers of someone else.  It’s packed in there. 

I have no idea what compels a man to do these things.  I’m not a prude by any stretch (well, actually I kind of am) but even if I were buff and well-endowed, I still wouldn’t flash my shit to 50 other guys in a sweaty locker room.  The word that keeps coming to mind is "unnecessary." 

So let’s try to get that time down to seven seconds, gentlemen.

[Note: the only exception to the seven second rule would be guys who are getting weighed.  As someone who is now obsessed with his weight, I realize the importance of being nekkid when getting weighed.  These guys get a pass.]

2) I don’t think it’s too much to ask for my nipples to stop bleeding.  Really, really not cool.  I remember in college at BC watching the Boston Marathon and seeing runners trudging along with blood dripping from their nips down their shirts.  I thought this was horrible.  And now it’s happening to me. 

My point is that I look bad enough at the gym – I don’t need to be running, red-faced, sweating, panting AND holding my moobs (man-boobs) so that my nips stop brushing up against my shirt.  It’s not so bad that they bleed then and there like the guys’ nips in the Marathon, but they bleed a little bit and get cuts on them and they hurt.  Fuck, man.  It’s my nipples.  I’m willing to go pretty far for this diet, but running until my nipples fall off, well, I can’t do that. 

*****************

We have two problems that, while not potentially fatal to the health of this blog, are at the very least highly detrimental.  And so, as in many moments of weakness, I turn to you, dear readers, for help.

Problem #1: My laptop is dying a slow and miserable death.
In August of 2004, I bought a laptop.  As someone who doesn’t know anything about computers, I turned to Site Guy Brendan and said, "Dude, pick me out a laptop.  All I need it for is for writing, music, internet and porn.  That’s all." 

So Brendan went on over to the Dell website and put together a $2600 (!) monstrosity that weighs about 75 pounds (I read a review for it – after I had purchased it – and it said, "For the user for wants a desktop laptop," which is good because it’s not like I travel one weekend a month).

Now, after years of stealing music and porn, it’s starting to get slow.  I have about two hours with it before its performance starts lagging: it takes forever to open new programs (Firefox, Word, iTunes, etc), when I type there is a delay with each letter (typing the word "transubstantiation" would take at least a full minute), and it just generally sucks.

Please tell me how to fix this.  I know nothing about computers but it seems like it needs a tune up or something.  But if it means deleting my porn or music, we gonna have a problem.

Problem #2: I am a complete fucking retard when it comes to posting pictures.
I like putting pictures up on here.  Judging by the emails that I get, you guys do too. 

But the post earlier this week, between my slow computer and my inability to properly manipulate the pictures, took me about four hours to write.  Four hours!  I don’t spend that much time on this blog all week. 

And of course, like last time, after I posted the pictures I got a number of emails from people with dial-up or slow computers or whatever saying they are too big and taking forever to download (seriously people, shell out for some high speed internet).

So can someone tell me a) how to resize the pictures properly without compromising the integrity of the photos? and b) get them properly loaded in WordPress? 

Just remember that you are dealing with someone who is very, very bad at technology, so if you do venture to help me on this, you’re going to have to make it very simple, like:

1) Download this
2) Open this
3) Take your dick out of your hand, etc.

I’m heading to Philly this weekend for a bachelor party so I won’t be able to check email much this weekend, but in order to prevent a deluge (because you guys are the greatest!), let’s make the cut-off for this Saturday at noon (so if you are reading this after Saturday at noon, please don’t email me).  If when I get connected again on Sunday evening I haven’t gotten any help, I’ll readdress then.

Thank you in advance for your cooperation.  Please don’t make me stop downloading porn.  Thanks again. 

*****************

I received a goodly bit of emails about yesterday’s post, but it’ll take me a while to get through all of them.  The consensus is that yes, being a dickhead works and for further information I should read "The Game" by Neil Strauss.  Although I did receive a nice email from a female reader saying, "I’m sorry, Jason, but you would have to be much, much better-looking for your plan to work."  I would say "Ouch" but hey – she’s just looking out for me. 

*****************

This isn’t going to be funny, but since it’s something that’s made a big difference in my life, I wanted to share.

Over the weekend I finally got my shit together and bought some new pillows.  Since I sleep on my back or my side, I like firm or extra firm pillows.  The pillows I had been using had been reduced to the size of a short stack of pancakes.

So I went to Bed, Bath & Beyond and got my firm pillows and – WOW.  I’m not even sleeping anymore – it’s beyond that.  I think I actually partially die between the hours of 1am and 8am.  It is wonderful.

Add to that that yesterday I washed my sheets (for the second time this month!) and this morning when I woke up I was in such a deep sleep that I contemplated calling out of work for a month or two just to lay in bed.  I love my bed and it’s (clean!) 800 thread count sheets, I love my firm pillows, and I love my air conditioner, which is back working without a problem again.

…

I’m sorry – I told you it wasn’t funny, but since I’m in shout-out mood today, I needed to mention my bed.  Fucking A, it’s great. 

*****************

Six Songs

Taking a cue (queue?) from my dear friend Ace over at Slack, I’m going to start linking to the Six Songs when possible.  We’ll see how this works out. 

"Time Bomb"  The Format
STOP WHAT YOU ARE DOING RIGHT NOW AND DOWNLOAD THIS SONG.  Katie from Florida, who coincidentally is smoking hot, recommended this song to me last week and it immediately rocked my balls off.  It (the song, not the band) sounds kinda like The Darkness if they had stronger pop tendencies.  Well, not really – I don’t know what the hell it sounds like, aside from "awesome."  Very, very, very, very catchy.  Do it.  Do it.  Do it. 

"Down to the River"  Ray Lamontagne
If all spirituals kicked this much ass, maybe God and I would not be feuding.  Alas, they don’t, and last week I left a flaming bag on shit on His porch.  God 184, Mulgrew 3.

"Book of Love"  The Magnetic Fields (free sample here)
I thought for sure I had recommend this song, but according to the archives I have not.  Beautiful song, I think.

"Don’t Stop"  Fleetwood Mac
Speaking of rocking my balls off, the live version of this song from "The Dance" really gets me going.  I’m not ashamed to admit that I like Fleetwood Mac, but should I really be saying that I rock out to them?  Let’s just move on… 

"Waste"  Phish
Continuing with the shame, it’s very lame for me to admit this, but this song reminds me so vividly of college make-out sessions that it will forever hold a special place in my heart.  I miss those days of being underage in a bar, meeting a girl, bringing her back to my dorm and putting on songs like this – songs that I naively believed set the mood – and enjoying a good old fashioned consequence-free hook up.  Some sweet, sweet (and rare, rare) times.  That autumn New England breeze coming in through the open window, mingling with the scents of her perfume, my Abercrombie & Fitch "Woods", our Miller Lite, and the acrid smell of Nonoxynol 9 from my seven year old Trojan, blending over the sounds of students coming home from the bars and parties, the yelling, the crashing, the laughter, the roommates outside the door saying, "Mulgrew’s actually with a girl?  Are you sure it’s not Barry?  Did anyone get a look at ‘her’?".  Those were some blissfully easy times. 

…

Wow – I should really be a poet.  It’s good to know I have a back-up in case this whole "blog" thing doesn’t pan out. 

[Speaking of poems, "Waste" has always reminded me of one of my favorite poems, "Bei Hennef" by D.H. Lawrence - except Lawrence has a twist at the end that Tom and Trey do not.  I'm saying this for no other reason than I'm trying to get you people more poetry literate because every once in a while I'll lift a line from one of my favorite poems and pass it off as my own and no one calls me out on it.  I particularly do this when signing off on "letters" like this one.  The last three lines of the adieu are from Sonnet XVII of Neruda's 100 Love Sonnets, which can be read in it's entirety here.  100 Love Sonnets is good but I prefer The Captain's Verses, which should either be re-titled or at least subtitled Don't Read This While Drinking Alone in the Shower or You Will Try to Drown Yourself Out of Sadness and Love.  Try reading "The Potter" ("Your whole body has/a fullness, a gentleness destined for me") without peeing yourself a little.  I dare you.]