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Bigger and Kick Asser Than Ever.
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12/28/2004
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Dear everyone,
Merry Christmas or happy fucking whatever for the heathens out there. It has been one hell of a year for me and mine. Well, it has for me anyway, since the immediate "mine" consists of a chameleon and a cat, neither of whom do much except eat, sleep, and leave turds around the house. So I guess it was as good as any for them.
What has made my year so amazingly awesome? Well, I have been single for the entirety of it, save the dying throes of a year long fling in January. Oh, and one lapse of judgement in September/October. I had no way of knowing she was engaged, but her fiancee calling me one night to yell at me was an excellent indicator. He actually turned out to be a really cool guy after I convinced him that I was not the one to be angry with; in fact, I felt worse for him than I did for myself. All I had lost was another pathological liar. He had actual time and money wrapped up in her. Anyway, lesson learned- If you think your girlfriend is being shady and banging around on you, she is. Only took me about twelve girlfriends to learn that, but I have it now. At least until next time.
I also seem to be falling into some kind of bizarro career that pays me to do stuff I would do for free anyway. I get to klackety klack away at this here keyboard and come up with stupid sayings and laugh my ass off, draw pictures, fly airplanes, and be around smart people. If someone decides to pay me to drink beer, I'd probably explode into a supernova of pure awesome. I'm really good at drinking beer, just in case anyone is toying with the idea...
Basically, if I had the opportunity to custom create a life for myself, it would be exactly what it is now. I have spent the entire year in a constant state of "Holy crap. This is unbelievable. Are you serious?" So mad props to Jesus, Santa, Grandma, or whoever is watching out for me. You're doing a bang up job.
A question I ask almost everyone I meet is "What would you consider the best year(s) of your life?" The answer I look for (but have never gotten) is my own- "This year, but that's only because I haven't seen next year yet." I have become annoyingly optimistic in my old age. When I was in high school one of my friend's moms told us that these were the best years of our lives. I have never so seriously considered suicide as I did on that day. I remember thinking "I am surrounded by rednecks and punks who have no plans beyond lunchtime, and you're telling me it is all downhill from here? Jeezus." Lucky for me, it has only gotten better since then. A lot more work, but that's part of the fun.
So now I turn that question inward and ask myself what I am going to do next year to make it even better than this year. Were I an outside the box thinker, I'd say something like breed a species of bird that has money for feathers and moults several times a day, or invent a drug that temporarily eliminates a man's sex drive so we can get stuff done between the ages of 18 and 50.
Actually, I don't really have a plan. I never did. I asked a friend of mine who probably wishes to remain nameless what she thought I should do next. She mentioned that she was a big believer in "unintentional consequences", which stuck with me for some reason. Whatever is clicking along now is doing so under its own power. I just sort of aim it. So I'll continue to follow my instincts and hope that Spiderman or my muse or whatever it is keeps doing its job. I do know that there will be pretty big changes to the format of this column as well as the Pork Tornado stuff, but I'll keep that a surprise for now, since I don't even know the details yet.
This has all been my long-winded and meandering way to say thank you to everyone who has been reading this column and the other drivel I produce. It feels good to know that I am making so many people laugh and occasionally pissing them off. I only hope you have enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoy writing it. Stay tuned, for there is much more to come. Bigger and kick asser than ever.
Now I find myself faced with the last few days of the year and not a single column to write, picture to draw, or page to design. I can't remember the last time I didn't have anything on my plate. I'll be at the world's greatest new year's eve party at the Fox Theater in a few days, partying it up in a custom made kilt with a friend of mine (yes, we'll be wearing separate kilts, not partying in one kilt. He's not that good of a friend). Oh, how I will celebrate the closing of the greatest year of my life.
So far, that is.
 Dusty
RELATED LINK: http://www.wednesdaynightdrinkingclub.com/nye2005/
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posted by Dusty at 4:18 PM |
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Superhuman Killing Machines Have Right-of-Way
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12/22/2004
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During the holiday season, there is lots of traffic in the Metro Atlanta area, particularly near popular malls like Lenox and Phipps Plaza in beautiful upscale Buckhead (where you can spend $7000 on a pair of jeans and get shot in a gang fight on the same block. No other city offers such convenience).
I have always hated people who get their stupid asses stuck in an intersection when the light turns red. We all know what happens when people do that. Traffic stops and we sit and watch the light cycle over and over as we come up with more and more creative and painful ways to end the lives of the shitmops who are causing the problem.
When I am elected mayor and have successfully overturned the "no beer on Sunday" law, my next action would be to post cops in every major intersection whose sole purpose was to write tickets to idiots. If I thought we could get away with it, I'd say just take their driver's license and burn it in front of their face, and then a big magnet would come down from a crane, pick up their car and hurl it into the woods somewhere.
Yesterday it took me 30 minutes to get out of the PARKING LOT where I work because these human gland-squeezings think they will magically get home faster if they stop traffic altogether.
As my holiday cheer went down the toilet, I began modifying my plan to end this problem. Imagining the satisfying meaty "thwap" sound a hollow point bullet would make as it tore through the face of such motorists, I thought that maybe engineering a race of superhuman killing machines to replace the cops in the intersections would be a better plan. You can't reason with a superhuman killing machine, so no one could talk their way out of it. They also have no conscience, so expensive counseling would not be needed, and superhuman killing machines will work for cake. They love cake. Just teach them which people to shoot in the face and have some cake handy. Problem solved.
After considering the possible PR disaster that would result if we ran out of cake and the mutant killers went off on a face-shooting rampage, I decided that mechanizing the process would be more controllable. At the four corners of most intersections there are usually light posts or some other weapon mounting system. Imagine a high powered flame thrower that shot a burning liquid which binds to organic matter and fear makes it burn even hotter. Yeah, I know. Rad. Now imagine the tortured screams of the intersection blocker as he burns alive in his car. It is almost impossible to comprehend what a clear signal that would send to other drivers.
By now, you have the following two questions for me: "Dusty, were you actually genetically altered to make yourself so awesome?" and "What would we do with the burned-out hulk of the car that is left in the intersection?"
The answer to the first question is yes, and the answer to the second question is this: The car and charred body would be taken by helicopter to the driver's address, where it would be dropped on his home from several hundred feet, burning down the house and hopefully killing the offender's entire family. The remaining scrap from the car would be recycled and used to make wheelchairs for handicapped orphans. Because I'm compassionate.
Dusty
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posted by Dusty at 9:08 AM |
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Online Dating 101- Part 3
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12/14/2004
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Lesson one, part three- Correspondence
Now that your profile has been active for a while (and using my professional tips, no doubt receiving unheard-of response), you are probably thinking "Hey most awesome guru of all things online daterly, what the hell do I say to him/her when I e-mail him/her?"
If you happen to be a girl, the answer is "anything you want", because men don't get many responses, and due to the numbers-game aspect of it, we will reply to anything. I once had a girl tell me she was offended by my profile (must have been the part about having a master's degree in misogyny), and we still ended up going out a couple of times.
For guys it is more complicated, which sucks for us as most of us are not very good at expressing ourselves in writing. Or any other way, for that matter. We'd be better served if we could cyberfart and armwrestle our way into their hearts.
The first thing to remember is that you are writing to a complete stranger. Don't assume that they share your love of obscure porn references or exotic reptiles. On the other hand, it is very easy to make it sound like a form letter too, so what I am saying is that no matter what you do it will be wrong. Since you know it is going to sound sort of dumb by virtue of the fact that it is what it is, do your best to fail gracefully. A little self-deprecation goes a long way if properly executed. Notice I said "a little".
Since I am really good at knowing what not to do (and I don't want to give away my secrets), I offer the following aborted first e-mails-
Too much info in too little time-
Hi Amy,
Wow, this is totally the first time I have ever done this. I feel like such a loser. Living in my mom's basement doesn't do much for the self-image either. Mommy says I need to get out and meet a nice girl, but due to my skin condition I don't go out much (the constant scratching makes it bleed). All the girls I know are relatives, and some are cute, but everyone thinks that's wrong (really wrong according to the judge, LOL). Well anyways I want to celebrate my release and go do something like see a movie or get a funnel cake. You savvy?
-Angus
Level 52 Enchanted Halfling
Warcraft
See, that one got off on the wrong foot and ended on the really creepy, infected foot. I wouldn't lie about living with your mom. I'd move out and then worry about dating. The rest of it is just more crap than anyone wants.
Too little info in too much time, while trying way too hard-
Greetings,
While contemplating the (perhaps) content of the message you are about to read, I was faced with a dilemma not unlike the second act of Julius Caesar in which Brutus finds himself locked in the classic struggle of man vs. himself. Is it too early to reveal my luddite leanings? Ever the pathrampist, I solved this conundrum through a combination of reasoning, Aristotelian philosophy, and a fine single malt scotch. Okay, I doubled the single malt. Unfortunately that does not create double malt (as traditional mathematics may lead one to believe), but rather a heightened state of inebriation. It is in this slightly altered state that I come to you with warmed heart and flared nostrils to impart upon you my desire to somehow gain the favour of your familiarity.
Do you take pleasure in the labyrinthine bouquet of a fine sauvignon? Have you a desire to gaze upon the works of the great masters...
ALRIGHT. Reading that stuff makes people want to kill themselves. No one wants to read an e-mail with dictionary.com open in another window and a stack of cliff's notes so they'll know what the hell you are talking about. A sesquipedalian* writing style is a sign of ignorance.**
This is moving along a little too fast for a first attempt-
Hey Sexy,
I have to admit; when I saw your picture I was taken aback. Your smile lit up the room and I was hypnotized by your eyes. You are the kind of woman I would be happy holding in my massively ripped arms, or simply bending over and knocking the bottom out of. Have you ever tried the reverse gusher? What about the whirling dervish? With legs like yours wrapped around my ceiling fan, I could make you feel like the naughty little slut you are. Call me and we'll have totally rad phone sex (or actual sex. I have a herpe with your name on it) - 404.555.3563
-Mark
Ladies, raise your hand if you would respond to a letter like that. If your hand is up, you have a stage name and severe daddy issues. If you are a guy who would write something like that, I don't know what to say. I sort of hate you, but also admire your ability to deny the existence of your own stupidity.
Thus ends the online dating seminar. I know, it ended with lesson one, but you are now well on your way to a short, meaningless relationship with a chick who's probably a dude. Plus, once you've been on a date, it's not really on line anymore, is it? As soon as I finish my own dating profile, I'll post a link so you can all see how the pros do it.
*Thanks Nathan
**yes, I used a big word to ironically prove my point, sort of like misspelling the word "spelling" in last week's issue. Please hold the e-mails. The fact that I even have to explain this makes me die a little inside.
Dusty
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posted by Dusty at 10:57 AM |
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Online Dating 101- Part 2
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12/7/2004
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Lesson one, part two- Your Description.
Here's where you blather on about yourself in order to somehow appear different than everyone else. In the space where they ask you to describe what you like to do, write something interesting or leave it blank. It is assumed by virtue of the fact that you are alive that you "like to have fun". I must have read and deleted a thousand profiles based on that line. "My name is Megasexy99, and I like to hang out with my friends and I like to have fun. And I can't believe I am doing this". No shit? I hate my friends and I only like stuff that hurts. Oh, and you can't believe you are doing this? Apparently every woman who goes hunting online is completely bewildered by her own desperation. We're all here doing the same damn thing, sweetheart. Get over yourself.
Description Dos and don'ts
DO:
- Show some confidence, but not by saying you are confident. If you are sexy, you won't need to say it. Same goes for funny and intelligent. Just be those things, or better yet, be whatever you are.
- Be honest. It is always very sad when someone is just trying too hard, claiming to be a bunch of stuff that they obviously are not. If you aren't funny, don't try.
- Keep some information to yourself. No need to tell your life story. Run past the interesting bits in a general way and leave some surprises for later, like that raging case of syphilis.
- Make it quick, especially if you are a guy. I once posted a fake ad as an average looking girl, just so I could get an idea what kind of responses they got. No, I didn't respond to any of the guys who wrote to me (although I did laugh heartily at the guy who sent me a shirtless picture of himself and a complete description of how he would make love to me). Girls get a lot of e-mail on these sites, and they don't want to pore over a thousand self-indulgent biographies.
- Check your speling and grammar. If you are old enough to whore yourself out in the lonely abyss of cyberspace, you are old enough to take measures to avoid looking stupid. For starters, you should have a decent grasp on the difference between "you're" and "your" if you are not clinically retarded. Also, their, there, and they're. If you find yourself deficient in these areas, you should at least have someone smart read over it.
Don't:
- Talk about sex unless you are on one of those e-social disease sites where that is the norm. Mentioning that you enjoy sex is sort of like saying you like to have fun. If I had just met a girl in a bar and she opened up with "I do enjoy my healthy sex life", I'd probably politely excuse myself (as soon as she described every detail of it to me and we had humped like field sluts under the stairs.)
- Sound obsessive or lonely. One that always sets off warning bells for me is the mention of cats or dogs in the plural, and referring to them as people. I can usually do without the girl who has several pets and refers to them as her babies. I have a cat, but I would not list it as something I could not live without or as one of my best friends. She hates me and I tolerate her. I'm human, she is a furry bag of shit and vomit.
- Mention a past relationship where you were hurt. We've all been shat upon, and displaying your baggage like a trophy isn't going to improve your chances of it not happening again. For that matter, don't mention your ex-boyfriend even if you think you are best buddies with him. A guy will not want a girl who lives with her ex "just as friends" because we are male and we know that he wouldn't be around at all if he didn't want to screw her- especially if he used to screw her. If you think you are the exception to this rule, try this sometime- Get a little drunk with your purely platonic male friend and ask him if he would have sex with you. The answer may shock you.
- Be bitter. I've seen this more from dudes than women. Don't start off by bitching about how hard it is to find someone or how you are frustrated with dating. Negativity isn't a good selling point.
- Lie. Do you really think that if you say you are 5'5" and 100 pounds, no one will notice when you turn out to be 5'1" and 280? Do you think that a good relationship will come of you claiming to be a fighter pilot when you drive a dump truck? Do you think she will never find out you are married? (The answer to all of these questions is "no")
Now that you have created an ad, we'll cover the correspondence part next week. Same bat time, same bat channel.
Dusty
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posted by Dusty at 11:23 AM |
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