(Pubic) Hair Apparent

Found at South Africa's Mail and Gaurdian Online Daily: http://www.mg.co.za/todaysIdeasArticle.aspx?loadpage=newidea.php&id=1537

When highlighting hair in a salon a person is required to wear a rubber cap with small holes through which tufts of hair are pulled and then bleached.

This novel idea enables a person to highlight tufts of pubic hair in a similar fashion by making use of a new panty design.

The panty comprises a triangular sheet of liquid impervious plastic that is secured by means of a waistband and a G-string over the pubic area.

The plastic sheet lies closely to the skin area and forms a protective barrier over the pubic hair. The sheet is formed with a plurality of small holes through which tufts of underlying pubic hair can be pulled with a hooked needle, typically used in hair salons.

Once the isolated tufts of pubic hair has been sufficiently bleached, the chemicals are rinsed off and the highlight panty removed.

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The South Africans are light years ahead of us in pubic styling. Something must be done. Yet, despite my outrage of this snatch-dye-gap, I’m looking forward to next week’s article on extensions and braiding.


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It's St. Patrick's Day, I'm Part Irish, and I Don't Give a Sh!t

Legend has it that that Saint Patrick drove the snakes from Ireland, thus making the emerald isle safe for plague rats.

Born Maewyn Succat (or some such sh!t), he was kidnapped from the British mainland around age 16, and shipped to Ireland as a slave. Jesus, this guy was born in fucking England for Christ’s sake. The most identifiable icon of Ireland is British; no wonder the limeys still have control of Ulster (Northern Ireland). Those god damned clover-pickers can't even produce their own patron Saint. Let's hear U2 or the freaking Chieftains write a song about that one.

Here in the States, this pseudo-religious holiday is celebrated by drunken frat boys and their ilk in the form of a 24 hour drinking contest. Yeah, there's nothing more Irish than a mug of dye-green Miller Light, except (of course) famine.

Every year I go out to brave the bars, and every year I come closer to a spree killing. I might just be getting old, but the idea of wall-to-wall douche-bags writhing around in their own excretions and trying to nail the dumpy chick with the bad red dye-job doesn't seem like a good time. Oh yeah, and if I hear one more mother-fucker with a green plastic horn bleating from across the room, that cocksucker is going to need a pair of forceps to extricate it.

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BTW: I just found out that MSN doesn't like swears - won't let you publish 'em - fuckers

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I Can Read

I just finished reading my first "Oprah Book Club" book, and it was good. The Book: The Corrections by Jonathan Franzen - http://www.amazon.com/exec/obidos/tg/detail/-/0312421273/qid=1110987707/sr=8-1/ref=pd_csp_1/103-2087585-2598229?v=glance&s=books&n=507846 -.

There's a back story to this one. I met the author a few years back when he interviewed me for an article in the New Yorker. He was a really good guy, and I wanted to read one of his books. I went out and bought The Corrections a month or two later, but just recently got around to reading the book. Those who know me well are aware of my 3 foot high stack of "to read" books; I kept picking up the book weighing its girth (and therefore its public transit readability) and picking a slimmer tome. Well, I ran out of paperbacks to read a finally decided to tackle the 600 pager. It was well worth it.

The Corrections tells a story of a family rife with personal conflicts and strained interactions. It really is a series of character studies with a plotline that serves to bind the individual facets together. It is well written and heartfelt, and I found myself relating to the characters (especially Chip) frequently. Franzen's writing style evokes a mix of a Dave Eggers or Douglas Coupland meets John Irving. The book is well written and pulls you in from the beginning. The read is easy, but I couldn't help but be amused at the thought of myriad housewives (purchasing the book from the Oprah sticker) wrestling with the gristly subject matter scattered throughout.

I definitely recommend reading The Corrections by Jonathan Franzen. I feel that this is one of those books that will remain in my mind years later, as did Nabokov's Lolita, Irving's Hotel New Hampshire, Ellis's Rules of Attraction, Palahniuk's Choke, Egger's A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius, and Hornby's High Fidelity.

FYI: I just began to read Cad by Rick Marin (as provided by Mr. Gunderson). Once I finish, I'll let you know what I think.

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I Love the Post Office and Old People

I just spent the better part of the morning trying to mail a box of CDs to Elise for her road trip. Aside from your average line of "e-bay power-sellers" that usually haunt my local post office, there were thrown in for variety a couple of befuddled octogenarians to brighten my morning.

Woman (with bag of unpackaged items): "How much to send this to Texas? - - "Well that's too much." - - "Will the cheaper service get there any faster?" - - "Why should I be expected to pay for these (decorative) boxes" - - "No I won't step aside." - - "I have rights." - - etc.

This lead to an epiphany: Due to the fact that we are living in a safety conscious society our stupid citizens are getting old. A thousand years ago the individual who went out to hunt a bear with a mud and twig heavy arsenal didn't really last long enough to become a burden to anything (except for the bear's digestive tract). Today that same individual would probably get a grant for performance art and/or a Fox special. Does anyone else find this counter-intuitive?

Well, if so, I have a proposal: We need more mortal dangers in our society. We need to be sending out crack cocaine like AOL mailers, we need 24 hour undercooked fried cassava ball stands (http://www.cnn.com/2005/WORLD/asiapcf/03/09/mass.poisoning/index.html) , we need electrified blades affixed to the closing doors of our subways, we need lottery tickets that explode if they don’t win, we need concrete airbags, we need pornography affixed to the front of all quickly moving trains.

I may be on my own here, but something needs to be done. If any one cares to join me I proudly unveil the first wave of my awareness campaign: Operation Rusty but Sharp Iron Spikes Galore (ORSISG).

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The Best Site on the Internets

Ok, here we go. After much pressure from my friends (and an exceptionally slow day at work), I am now one of these douche-bag bloggers. More posts will be forthcoming once I figure out how to work this damn thing.

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