Tuesday, August 19, 2008

There's Just No Kick With a Little Dick

There's spray-on hair, spray-on tans, spray-on stain remover-- now spray-on condoms??!

As a teenager, [Jan Vinzenz] Krause [designer of the Jolly Joe Spray-On Condom], now 30, had trouble finding the right size condom, which set him on a quest to aid other similarly befuddled young men. "They told me, 'Mr. Krause, I don't understand why the industry doesn't develop a condom which fits you perfectly,' " he says. Hence his idea for a spray-on condom. "The condom fits 100% perfectly, so the safety is much higher than a standard condom's, and it feels more natural." Krause says men are reluctant to go to a drugstore cashier with a box of small-size condoms — for obvious reasons. His solution: he plans to sell his new line of different-size condoms online. "Men on the Web," he says, "they are very honest."
-Callie LeFevre


They do say it's the motion in the ocean, not the size of the dog in the fight, and good things come in small packages, right? I'm not really sure how you peel these suckers (Ew!) off, and I certainly wouldn't wanna suck on one, but I suppose a tiny dude spraying one on is better than having his Magnum slink off spraying baby juice. Just don't shoot your eye out, kid-- or SPRAY it out. OUCH!

Monday, August 18, 2008

Country Mouse City House

My old roommate and friend, Kate Hudson (No, not THAT Kate Hudson, silly!) just posted a bunch of photos on flickr that I thought you all might enjoy.

The way I met Kate was rather serendipitous. She contacted me via a friend of an acquaintance when one of the rooms in my apartment was available. If you know me, you know of my love of coincidences-- or things that appear to be so. We interviewed one young prim and proper girl, who was sweet as pie, but I knew would never be able to handle my frequent mood swings of the time. Kate was young and quiet, but I sensed that there was a bit of grime nestled under her fingernails and I liked that. Oddly, she was originally from North Carolina, as I am, and had grown up attending a Quaker school. My family were (mostly non-practicing, wanna-be) Southern Baptists, but two of my good friends had spent time in the sprawling fields of Indiana at a Quaker college, so it seemed that these two commonalities meant she should stay with us-- and she did for awhile.

Here are her photos:

Friday, August 15, 2008


Bust's 15th anniversary was last Tuesday night. There were singers, there were dancers, there were comediennes, and romancers--- BUT most of all there were good times and drink tickets.

YAY! Happy bday Bust!

Thursday, August 14, 2008

Who do voodoo?

My friend has been in Zambia, Africa the past couple months working with the Lubuto Library Project, which is a program that built a library in Lusaka, Zambia and is aiding in bringing books and other learning aids to Zambia's street children.

She started a blog for the organization. Check it out at the address below:

She also started a separate blog detailing some other experiences in Zambia unrelated to her work, including a visit to a small village where she was the first white person the children had ever seen! A friend she met had grown up in the village, and took her back with him for a visit.

All photos belong to Holly Morganelli.

Monday, August 11, 2008


Sleevefacing has long been a favorite drunken activity, and most recently a way to cover an ugly mug on internet social networking sites. Today while, um "working", I found a slew of 'em on Flickr. My favorites were made in impromptu situations, but I did find a guy who has made the classic sleeveface into an artform.

He even did a whole collection of just Barry Manilow.

Some of the rest below:

Fallin' For You

This is mostly for Shea--The Niagara Falls photos I mentioned before:

Sunday, August 3, 2008

Razoozled: 'Getting Razzed' Has A Whole New Meaning

From the Razzoo's* website:

Is that guy in black face**? WTF? W.T.F??!

*Reference previous post.

**Yes, I do plan on seeing Tropic Thunder.

Saturday, August 2, 2008

MMMMMM Toasty!

When I turned sixteen, I got my first car for my birthday with the only condition being that I pay for the gas and maintenance myself. This resulted in my working in one of the offices of my dad's company for a couple hours after school daily for my final two years of high school. I pretty much had it made. 70% of my duties was going on ice cream runs for the gals in the office in my new wheels (White '91 Buick Regal with red leathuh interior!), and the other 30% of my time was spent gossiping with them. Finally, the day of doom came around when I was reprimanded for sporting daisy dukes and platforms in the office, and that was it. Being the pigheaded gal that I am, I decided anyplace must be better than that stuffy dump. That day I took my first steps down the long, winding, magical path of THE FOOD INDUSTRY!!

My first job was hostessing at Razzoo's Cajun Cafe, a chain whose only other locations are oddly in Texas. We opened the restaurant in Charlotte, and were taught to greet customers with a big ol' smile and a spirited, "Hey Y'all!!!" I was fired after a week and a half. I began thinking that perhaps serving others was not my forté . I took a leave of absence from the industry to think it over, and checked out the retail side of things slinging Doc Martens in the mall shoe store, Journeys--after all, their slogan is "An attitude you can wear."

Following that job, I jumped from movie theater employee, to Renaissance Fest serving wench, to bank teller, and eventually to a short stint at Quizno's, which is where I saved up a meager amount of cash to move to Bushwick, Brooklyn. Thanks Quiznos! It wasn't until I moved to New York that I really dove into the service industry head first.

My first waitressing job was in a dingy irish bar and restaurant that paid me just enough to barely make rent. The job ended 8 months after it began when the bartender threw a cup of tartar sauce on me. Though I stuck around in the service industry this time, I vowed to never waitress again no matter what.

Check out this great essay on the very industry that feeds you, me, and paid my rent for 5+ years:

It's Like Asking Niagara Not To Fall

This morning I sat pouring over someone else's memories. A tingle in my stomach, and gnaw on my heart soon coaxed tiny pools of water to puddle in the corners of my eyes. My eyes didn't cry though-- Just puddling, pooling, and drying. Sort of the anti-cry, because I knew it was silly to be sentimental for something I didn't even own. There was something inside me that wanted it for myself, but then I realized that one day I'll have just as many memories to sprinkle bittersweet tears on.

Some friends of my mine, HYMNS just returned from a small tour, and had stopped off in Niagara Falls for tourist time. This provoked me to look up funny photos of tourists taking photos of themselves in front of the falls (I shouldn't be telling people this stuff.), which lead me to this amazing cache of vintage photos from one flickr member. *

Here are her memories:

"I grew up on Conesus Lake, New York."

"My mother called this my Robert Mitchum look."

"During the summer of 1970, when my husband, Jeff, was 19, his parents went away for a short trip. He took this opportunity to have a party at his parent's house. Stories for the ages were made, but Jeff forbids me to add them here. Four of the nine have passed away -- a high mortality rate for a bunch of guys who should all be in their fifties."

"This was Jeff's childhood home in Carle Place, Long Island, NY. This was the end of the Colonial Revival period and Jeff's family lived in an area of Long Island developed by William Levitt of Levittown fame. "

"Mae Elizabeth Ann Quinn Richards, 1947, while dating my father."

"My father started working for Kodak after returning from the war in the Pacific. He was a manager in the department that produced x-ray film and worked there until his early death at 51 in 1971. I found this large transparency among his things after his death. It may have been a commercial photo for a Kodak ad."

These photos reminded me of a vacation my family took to visit my stepdad's parents in Florida. Early one morning we received a phone call from my grandpa who had been feeding our pets while we were away. His tired and weathered voice explained that the pipe leading to our washing machine had burst and leaked into our basement, filling up the entirety with about 1.5 feet of water. Stored in the basement were clothes, furniture, decorations, but most importantly, boxes and boxes of photographs! My mother was devastated. Upon cutting our visit short and booking it back to North Carolina, my mom sat on our back deck for weeks mixing her tears with the already sopping vintage glossies, and peeled them from their respective albums, wallpapering the wood with them as they dried in the sun. Those that weren't in albums were stuck together, and she worked diligently for hours peeling them apart with minimal damage. I now have many baby photos with smeary red lines from the water damage. 

I hope one day someone finds our smeary memories, and gets a little bleary-eyed too. 

*See Beverly's blog for a another flickr member's cache of great vintage photos.