Subway post from Andrew at the Morning News: “This morning when I got on the subway a mother and daughter — the daughter around six years of age — boarded with me. At every stop the girl raised her fists above her head and shouted, “Yaaaaayyyyy!” Each time her mother would say, “Not yet.” When we reached the Union Square stop the girl said nothing. Her mother said, “This is where we get off.” The daughter raised her fists above her head and yelled, “Yaaaaayyyyy!”
Posted by andrew at 06:35 PM, December 06, 2001″
WHEREFORE ART THOU?
Me: (Finishing up a story…) I thought it was pretty romantic.
Him: That is romantic.
Me: Have you ever noticed how a lot of guys are intent on telling women romantic things they’ve done for past girlfriends. It’s like, “Ooh, check me out. I’m such a sneak-attack Romeo.”
Him: Hm… You know, it seems like I’m always just about to do something when you say it’s dumb.
Him: Like, I was about to tell you my romantic story, and instead I’m all, “Huh-huh, yeah. Stupid guys.”
Me: Ha! Rad.
Me: Tell me your story then.
Me: Tell me.
I found a crumpled index card on the street. It reads, “Funny how the freedom of youth turns to loneliness in old age.”
So while I was at Internet World, Christine Hefner, CEO of Playboy and daughter of Hugh, gave a keynote. She was articulate and interesting, but an easy target nonetheless. While I snickered whenever she said “protecting our assets,” Bryan provided the running commentary:
Her: The site attracted a whole new audience. As a matter of fact, most of them aren’t readers of the magazine. In fact, most of them don’t read magazines at all.
Bryan: In fact, most of them can’t read.
The most intriguing part of her speech was how artfully she euphemized. Below are her quotes and my translations:
“Our advertisers know that we’re one of the premiere magazines that focuses on the entertainment sector for men.”
Men are entertained by spread-eagle photos of teenagers, our advertisers hope they will drink Jack Daniels while they Pat the Robertson.
“My father and I have always had very complimentary interests. Mine on the strategic business side, my father on the creative side.”
I run the business, dad finds creative ways to schtoop blonde twins.
“We’re also developing sections of the site that focus on specialized photography.”
Catholic schoolgirls, Catholic schoolgirls and their sisters, Catholic schoolgirls and their cats, Catholic schoolgirl cheerleaders, Catholic schoolgirl cheerleader nurses…
FRIEND’S A FRIEND
Scenario: Three coworkers commute through the financial district.
Guy 1: Bunch of us went over to Tonic last night.
Guy 2: Yeah, who?
Guy 1: Me, and Jason, and Mark and them.
Guy 2: No Chet?
Guy 1: Chet never goes out with us after work.
Guy 2: He’s got some weird kind of personal life going on.
Guy 1: Yeah?
Guy 2: Like knows a bunch of people from college who live around here or something.
Guy 1: Huh. Did Jenn tell you that she met her Internet friend last night?
Jenn: (Warning tone.) Simmer down.
Guy 1: Friend’s a friend, Jenn.
Guy 2: Friends are fun, Jenn.
Jenn: (Stony silence as she flips through Land’s End catalogue.)
Jenn: …Maybe I’ll get a pair of fleece pants.
Guy 1: Why?
Jenn: For Minnesota.
Guy 1: You’re going to buy a pair of pants for a week-long trip?
Jenn: Yeah. Why not?
Guy 1: (Presumably pointing at a Hawiaan shirt.) That’s good for Fridays.
Guy 2: I stand firm that flowers on a shirt do not make it crazy. You know?
Guy 1: What?
Guy 2: Like you can’t just wear a Hawaiian shirt and call it a “crazy shirt.”
Guy 1: I guess.
THREE MORE THINGS
Three favorite New York Signs:
- Fight back NY, see a show!
- Above a winter coat: Caring is giving! $129.99
- Teen People’s “Jingle Ball” Style Slam 2001
Three disturbing things about U.S. airports:
- Guys in camouflage toting semi automatics who smile and nod at you while you’re being frisked.
- Eerily empty terminals when you disembark.
- Self-flushing toilets.
How can I describe the
spectaculitude of the Rockettes’ Christmas
Spectacular? There were ice skaters, there were
illuminated headpieces, there were 3-D glasses attached
to the program. Santa Claus was doing
pelvic thrusts, more than 70 leggy precision dancers grinned and shimmered in ethereal
high-kick splendor, and just when you thought it
couldn’t get any better, dancing dwarves took the
Any complaints I’d otherwise have about the extreme corniness factor were mitigated by the easily amused women behind me. Everything cracked them up, and that cracked me up, and all of us were happy:
Mrs. Claus: Where can Santa be? Haven’t we had any
Elf: (Waving piece of paper.) This just came in from
Santa’s mobile fax!!
Knee Slappers: HAR! HAR! HAR!
Santa: Did we get all the letters?
Elf: Checked and ready, sir!
Santa: What about my email?
Knee Slappers: HAR! HAR! HAR!
See? Santa plus technology equals laff riot! Who knew?