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Posts Tagged ‘bizarre’

The Time I Had a Rogue Hair

April 28, 2013 Leave a comment

furry_man

So yeah, everybody gets these. If you haven’t found one on your own body, you simply haven’t been looking hard enough, and it’s probably at least six inches long by now. SEARCH THYSELF.

I remember discovering mine for the first time, growing out of the right side of my abdomen like it fucking belonged there. It looked like it came off Gandalf’s head (the White, not the Grey), several inches long and as glossy as a unicorn’s mane. I plucked it with horror, only to have it grow back again and again, the thin strand as white as purely driven snow. Now I monitor the spot with grim vengeance, razing the area as soon as it pokes it’s tiny silky head out of my stomach.

I remember a girl in my class in college who had a massive two-inch black hair emerging from her chin, like Satan’s own pube. I couldn’t understand how she had never noticed it before, but it became more clear as I watched her glance in the mirror in the bathroom. She always angled her head in such a way that she never saw the offending hair curling in the breeze. My God, had nobody ever told her? I didn’t know how to approach that situation since we were merely acquaintances, and she soon ceased coming to class altogether. Had she been strangled by her rogue hair in the night? Perhaps she looked on it fondly, stroking it gently before drifting off to sleep each night. I will never know.

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The Time I Looked at Sexy Halloween Costumes

October 22, 2012 Leave a comment

So I know hundreds of blogs have covered this topic, but there were some costumes even I was surprised by this year, so here we are.

Sexy Soldiers

So we have not one but TWO Sexy Russian Communist costumes, and what are essentially Sexy Nazis, but without the swastikas.

Sexy Palace Guard

This just cracks me up since it’s one of the satirical costumes featured in the Girls’s Costume Warehouse video, and now it’s for real. One of these years, I’ll dress up as the Sexy 1900s Steel Conglomerate Tycoon.

Lingerie

So these are PASTIES NOT COSTUMES! Why in the world are they in the costumes section?

Sexy Board Games

I really don’t understand this trend. We have Sexy Etch-a-Sketch, Monopoly, Darts (x2), Tic-Tac-Toe, Twister (x2), and Operation (x2). I was a little surprised not to see a Battleship-themed costume given the movie. Hollywod really missed a tie-in there.

Sexy Breakfast Cereal

This also baffles me. These aren’t even costumes. Why did Kellogg’s think anyone would want these?

Sexy Fruit

Okay, so I know corn isn’t actually a fruit, but it’s fruit-adjacent. Or something. Is there someone out there seeking some hot corn action?

Sexy Booze

Sexy Jager Bomb, Rum, Martini, and Beer. Sure, why not. They’re no more stupid than the rest of these.

Sexy Non-Sexy Things

Cindy Brady is seven years old. Little Orphan Annie is 11. Just think about that. Brian from Family Guy is a cartoon dog. When’s the last time you thought about the insane sex appeal of golf, one of the most boring sports ever? There is a girl here sincerely trying to stir your loins as a pink TV remote control.

Sexy Bizarreness

And here we have the weirdest ones, at least to me. When you were watching the Honey Badger video, were you thinking how much you’d like to fuck that animal who eats poisonous snakes and munches on bees? The next girl has a terrifying gaping maw on her bright pink stomach. Is this one supposed to be referencing something? And the coup de grace is the Sexy Tarantula, who appeals to absolutely no one on Earth, except perhaps some creepy guy who masturbates to Arachnophobia. We must stop this madness.

The Time I Worried About Disasters

October 1, 2012 1 comment

It has been a persistent fear of mine for many years now that a natural disaster will strike, and I will be naked for it.

Maybe not even a natural disaster. Maybe a terrorist attack or a fire eventually traced to arson. Whatever the situation, my recurring nightmare is that something unspeakably terrible will happen, and I will be naked while dealing with it.

I have no idea why this should terrify me so much. Perhaps it’s just adding insult to injury, that I’d crawl out of a burning building or swim out of a flood, then still have to deal with the indignity of being nude and vulnerable. Or that I’d drag myself out of a building ravaged by an earthquake, then spend my first dazed moments searching for a blanket or something. In these bizarre imaginings, I never just suck it up and deal with self-preservation first and foremost. I don’t spend my time saving others crushed by buildings, or seeking precious fresh water. No, for some reason in these scenarios I see myself simply wandering around, sadly looking for clothes to steal.

I’d like to think I wouldn’t act so stupid in an actual life-or-death situation. But there was the one time it almost came true.

I was living in Japan in the Fall of 2004, staying with my host family in Kyoto on a semester long study abroad program. I was busy showering in my host family’s expansive bathroom, and was cold, covered in soap suds, and most assuredly naked. At that moment, an earthquake struck that was stronger than any I had felt so far. The rumblings were strong enough to knock me to the floor in my sudsy state, and there I lay, terrified and thinking only, “My fear has finally come to pass.” I imagined myself having to wander the streets of Japan nude, my pale foreign skin still wet from my shower as fires burned around me from ruptured gas lines.

Of course, the earthquake was considered mild by Japan standards, and the only thing damaged in our building was the elevator. I finished my shower and dressed quickly, still prepared for a sudden evacuation that never came. But I still remember my terror.

I don’t know what is with me and nudity, but I seriously need to get a grip.

The Time I Was Picked Up by Drunk People

August 22, 2012 5 comments

Lift

So I admit, the title of this post is misleading. I do not mean being “picked up” in the romantic sense. I mean being literally picked up in someone’s arms, perhaps over their head, and eventually dropped. Which hurts.

Let me explain. I’m short. Like, pocket-sized. And apparently, when people (especially guys) get drunk, they feel like trying to fucking bench press me. I don’t know why this happens, or what it’s meant to prove, but it’s happened too many times for me to ignore. I know that if people around me are wasted, I have to be on high alert, since there’s at least a 75% chance that I’m going to be airborne before the night is over.

And let me tell you, there’s nothing I can do to stop it. Saying, “No, don’t pick me up like a bag of rice!” never seems to work, and I’m too small to stop someone who is determined to lift me over their shoulder. If you have never been unwillingly hoisted by a drunk, beefy man, I can tell you that few things will make you feel more vulnerable. I mean, how rude is that shit? I don’t go up to you and leap on your back or something when you’re just trying to have a good time. “Hey, you looked like you could support my weight, so how about you CARRY ME NOW YAAAAAY!”

But nope, I’ll just be chatting, sipping my drink, and some dude will come up behind me and fucking cradle me like a baby. Usually I barely even know him, and now my drink is on the ground and I’m pissed. “Come on, don’t be a bitch,” he’ll say while digging his hand painfully into my armpit, or sometimes inadvertently (?) fondling my breast. “I just wanted to see if I could lift you.”

How about this? FUCK. YOU.

After the guy gets tired of toting me around like a damn Neanderthal, he’ll usually unceremoniously DROP ME. I’ve been dropped on tables, doorknobs, and into mud puddles. Huh, guess I was heavier than you thought, ASSHOLE.

Luckily, this doesn’t happen to me so often these days, though it felt like a fucking weekly occurrence in college. The next time you get the urge to pick up some random girl just because she’s tiny, put yourself in her shoes for a minute, and then WALK AWAY, you moronic sack of shit.

There, I feel better now. And the next stranger who tries to pick me up gets CUT, BITCH.

The Time I Walked Out On a Date

April 13, 2012 1 comment

bad_date_guy

I’ve been doing a lot of online dating lately.

This is mostly because I’m usually shy around guys that I don’t know, and I’ve been having a hard time meeting people in New York City. Yes, there are tons of people around, but we all just ignore each other on a daily basis. Eye contact could incite a fight, and I find myself usually looking at the sidewalk so that I can avoid forgotten dog poop.

I’ve selected OkCupid as my dating service since it’s free, and it tends to attract a younger demographic than Match.com or eHarmony. But though I’m certainly getting quantity with my dates, many have been lacking in quality. Here is a description of one of my recent bad ones. Yes, this is all describing just one guy.

  • He described himself as a non-board certified European gynecologist. Though it turned out he wasn’t really a doctor of ANYTHING since he hadn’t completed any residency, and I had to put this in bold because, REALLY? I should have known better.
  • Went to medical school in a small Eastern European country, but otherwise had lived in the US since childhood.
  • Had been studying for the boards for two years, but kept postponing his testing date since he “didn’t feel ready.”
  • Unemployed, and explained his lack of job by saying he would only work if the job “directly related to the boards.”
  • Lived in a micro-studio on the Upper West Side on Manhattan, and described some sort of bizarre stock market Ponzi scheme to explain his income.
  • Paid for nothing on the date out of “superstition” – he would not elaborate.
  • Was rude to every service person we encountered (waitresses, bartender, retail store staff, etc.).
  • Bizarrely, he refused to carry more than five $1 bills at any one time. He had a second wallet for potential dollar bill overflow, but suffered a minor meltdown when a waitress gave him six dollars in ones as change.
  • He stroked my arm and stared with sympathy for a full minute when I told him I had never been to the opera.
  • Speaking of the opera, he said that he usually wore a tuxedo to go to the opera by himself. Yes, he owns his own tux.
  • He consistently creeped out his test patients by staring at them uncomfortably, being a close talker, and rarely blinking. His stare could bore a hole through a bank vault.
  • He assumed I was an idiot who had “no deeper sense of self” until I told him I wrote a blog. Ah, yes, because we blog writers are just so fucking profound. And also typically lacking in social graces due to crippling anxiety issues.
  • He seemed to lack basic medical knowledge for a supposed MD. He told me that eating ice cream during a cold would make me more sick, and appeared unfamiliar with the concept of an incubation periods for viruses.
  • Didn’t know the word “hipster” – he claimed he had never heard it before in his life. He also didn’t know that Missouri was a state, or that St. Louis was a city. And yet he’s been in the US since he was a child, spoke English fluently, and had no foreign accent.
  • He wore round Harry Potter glasses un-ironically. I’m sorry, those type of glasses simply are not flattering on anyone. Which was a shame because he was rather cute, otherwise.
  • Knew nothing about current events, news, politics, movies, TV shows, etc. He didn’t own a TV and was exceedingly proud of it.
  • When I off-handedly mentioned maybe going ice skating, he declared he would need “a few days in advance to mentally prepare” for any “unplanned, spontaneous activities.” Well, that pretty much defeats the point, no?
  • He thought a good date activity would be taking me on his boring errands all afternoon. He argued with the staff at Housing Works until we got kicked out, then had me wait for 20+ minutes while he was getting his laptop repaired.
  • When I decided to walk out and go home, he refused to let me leave without details as to what was wrong with him. He told me I was horribly anal, and that he only went on a date with me because he had “low standards” and was very “unselective.” He also said that it took too much effort for him to realize I was “unhappy,” and that it was unrealistic for me to expect that of him.
  • After my escape, he texted multiple long and insulting messages, followed by a photo of a hand-drawn heart several days later. I had to block him from all further communications. AWESOME!

The Time I Found My Grandfather’s Contract

January 27, 2012 Leave a comment

So my paternal grandfather used to write contracts for his children to sign, outlining household expectations and/or projects. He wrote these in rather formal language, then had the children, himself, and his wife sign the document. And no, he was not a lawyer.

I present to you this scanned example from 1958, when my dad (“Gregory”) and his sister (“Jill”) were 10 and 9 years old, respectively. A third child, then age 3, was deemed too young to be involved in the contract. The last names have been censored to protect the innocent, who are now over 60 years old.

Note the “error in language” clause, which also referred to lapses in accent. If either of the children began to develop a New York accent, the $0.03 penalty also applied. According to this online Inflation Calculator, $1.00 in 1958 was about $7.45 in 2010 dollars, with the three penny penalty being worth nearly a quarter in 2010.

CONTRACT
Oct. 26, 1958

Between:
“Mommy” Tosca —
“Daddy” Jerry —

and:
Gregory — —
Jill — —

I hereby agree to provide an allowance of $1.00 per week from this date until Christmas, and $0.50 per week thereafter, subject to the following conditions:

  1. I deduct 3¢ for every error in language spoken during each week.
  2. Piano practice in completed on schedule and cheerfully.
  3. Room is kept neat and presentable when maid is not present.
  4. There will be no talking back or disobedience to orders.
  5. In addition, each recipient of allowance will perform 2 hours of light household chores each week.
  6. Table and company manners will be improved.

It is agreed that, if any of the above conditions are not met, the allowance for that week will be cancelled.

Signed

Gregory —
Jill —
Tosca —
Jerome —

The Time I Discovered Really Fucked Up Internet Porn

September 30, 2011 Leave a comment

Okay, I want to warn you. The following links are really, truly, not safe for work (NSFW). I posted this on a Friday so that you can browse these horrors of the internet at your leisure on Saturday or Sunday.

Seriously. Getting caught watching porn at work is bad enough, but getting fired for watching hobo porn? That’s a story your co-workers will tell for years after your sudden and unwilling departure.

So why do I share these links? Because the internet is a fascinating place, especially when it comes to sex. No fetish goes unnoticed, and no bizarre obsession remains hidden in the darkness. The internet is a place for ALL to come together, and bond with others who share their strange tastes. I may not understand all these sites, but I appreciate that the internet provides a place for their fans to discover that they aren’t the only ones out there. You aren’t the ONLY one who fantasizes about shitting out egg-shaped butt-plugs – and while one egg shitter is sad, a group is a party!

A delightful romp through the magical land of “old hobos, drifters, and railroad men.” As if that weren’t tantalizing enough, one simple click presents to you a vertitable paradise of old, wrinkled, dirty dicks. But don’t take my word for it…see for yourself! Don’t miss Crazy Red, a man who “lost the lower half of his right leg from the knee down trying to hop a train in the late ’70’s.” The less limbs you possess, the more you’ll appeal to this audience. And the more horrific the amputation the better!

Now to appeal to your scholarly sensibilities: though I think this site is essentially directed towards elderly gay men, it could perhaps also appeal to gerontophiles, which are in a sense the opposite of pedophiles. For more on these and similar age-related fetishes and attractions, go head and check out this article on Wikipedia. Don’t worry…it’s not porn. This time.

The first time I presented Zentai in a blog (no, this is NOT the first time), I linked to Zentai Woman, a now defunct website full of bizarre Engrish and “artistic” spandex nudes. Sadly, this site no longer exists, so I’ll send you to The Zentai Project, full of people who dress in Zentai in public.

Zentai is a type of all-body spandex fetishism apparently popular in both Europe and Asia, though it is most associated with Japan. Ah, yes…Japan. A land whose porn truly knows no bounds. A place where eel shittingoctopus birthing, and tub girl all somehow became viable sexual options (note: that eel video makes “2 Girls, 1 Cup” look like the work of amateurs). And now I really wish I hadn’t decided to find those links.

This site is for those who want to practice beastiality without all that messy hair and gnashing teeth. Ever wanted to fuck a dingo? How about a dolphin? And don’t forget the numerous toys also available to help prepare you for penetration by a two-foot horse penis-shaped dildo. Fun times for everyone! Just remember: as Neal Horsley once said to Alan Colmes on FOX News, “When you grow up on a farm in Georgia, your first girlfriend is a mule.”

Food for thought, everyone. Food for thought.

But perhaps the most disturbing area of this site is the forums. That’s a rabbit hole you really shouldn’t ever go down, but this is where the discussions about shitting eggs (sexily!) take place. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.

Behind this deceptively innocent name lies the world of infantilism and sexy, sexy diapers. Forever crinkling as they walk, adult babies use infant paraphenalia in sexual play. How can you resist Jerry? But Forever a Kid is just a clothing and accessory site, so don’t worry…it’s all PG in some of the most disturbing innocence you will perhaps ever witness.

And I’m spent. I hope you enjoyed this tour through the bowels of the internet. I know I have!

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