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Just wanted to call attention to my new favorite word (thank you so much for all you give us, Gawker): emosogynistic.

Re: Dude’s behavior who sees cute girl on subway then goes home and blogs about it on hotsubwaychicks.blogspot.com. Do not be disappointed when you click on this link and there are no busty gals with 12″ subs. I know Jared was.

From the site (editor’s notes in italics):

So this platform (ha! like a subway platform) will (be) for me to call out girls I saw on the train that I think are hot, if they come across their posting I made of them then they can totally hit me up and we’ll go out for coffee, talk, laugh, and hopefully make out and other things….I may draw pictures still not too sure on that one will get back to you there but it will come together somehow. No I’m not really as creepy and masagenistic as I made this out (phew), it just makes for good blogging. Watch out for the first hot chick for me to come across, it may be you 😉 (almost as gross as a real life wink)

I’m a little worried at the idea that just because all of the 20-something boys grew up listening to emo, that they have to internalize the craze and really live the lyrics to a New Found Glory song.

The needle on my record player has been wearing thin
This record has been playing since the day you’ve been with him
No more long rides home
No more of your station
I didn’t like it anyways
Remember the time we wrote our names upon the wall
Remember the time we realized “Thriller” was our favorite song

God forbid he overhears HIStory playing on some girl’s ipod.

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Why is it hard to make new friends after college? Because you’re not drunk as often? False. Because you aren’t going to classes with people who are interested in the same topics as you? Uh-uh. Because you aren’t as young and attractive as you were then? Possibly. Because you don’t know the same people to gossip about? BINGO!

For me and my friends, celebrities have replaced the ‘known students’ (j-lo with the short-shorts, douchey with the loud talking and pregnant-getting, omar with the booty, et cetera) on campus that I liked to talk about. So my friends and I gossip about Britney’s downfall and Owen’s suicide and all that because we live in different places and work in different places and don’t see the same cast of characters every day anymore!

The exception is what I like to call the ‘Melrose Rule,’ wherein if five or more people have kissed five or more of said same people and live in the same building, outside influence is rarely necessary (only for 2-5 episode guest stints) and you can forego celebrity gossip for inner turmoil. But since I can’t get all my friends to move to the same building and they won’t play spin the bottle with me (prudes) we have to rely on the celebs for us to have common shit-talking ground.

Clearly, we gossip about each other too but there are only a finite number of us, whereas on a large campus or the pages of US Weekly there are dozens of tasty pieces to choose from.

I’m just saying.

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Harpers reports that Daniel Pipes, founder of campuswatch and general proponent of repressiveness and hatemongering, has officially signed on to be an advisor to presidential candidate Rudy Giuliani.

Daniel Pipes Notable Quotables:

“Diplomacy rarely ends conflicts…the oft-heard mantra that ‘there is no military solution’ in short, has things exactly wrong.”

“Iraq’s plight is neither a coalition responsibility nor a particular danger to the West. Fixing Iraq is neither the coalition’s responsibility, nor its burden. When Sunni terrorists target Shi’ites and vice versa, non-Muslims are less likely to be hurt. “

Huzzah!

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Brooklyn Skeptic has joined the ranks of such notable visionaries as Barack Obama, Christina Aguilera, Admiral Adama, Tila Tequila, and John McCain. We’re on Myspace like you wouldn’t believe.

myspacebs.jpg

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Myspace could not have asked me a more appropriate question this morning as I hastily added four presidential candidates to my extremely exclusive friends list. Sometimes politicians have a hard time recognizing the difference between irony and genuine support. So I didn’t add Mitt Romney. If I did, I’m pretty sure that would legally bind us in holy matrimony. I’m not really ready to settle down, Mitt. And I can’t share you with my sister-wives.

So, let me introduce you to my new friends:

obama.jpg mccain.jpg dennis.jpgrudy.jpg

Like peas in the pod of my “Top 8”

 

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I’ve recently adopted a Tuesday evening tradition. Well, it’s only been two times now, so maybe it’s more of a Tuesday evening coincidence. It’s something in the spirit of Mardi Gras – revolting hedonism on a Tuesday. This event, which I like to call “Shotdogs,” has everything but the girls gone wild.

The evening starts out at Welcome to the Johnsons, a perfectly divey bar in the Lower East Side in Manhattan (yuck, I know). I’ve been going to this bar for several years now and was something of a regular when I lived in that hood. I was there for the summer when fruit flies had infested the limes and so there was always a fine film of bugs and bug-parts on every drink you ordered. That was when I developed an irrational fear of bar fruit. I’ve witnessed the replacement of the toilet that was once so covered in band stickers, you could hardly tell what you were supposed to do with it. The new one is collecting its own piss stained collection. I’ve been there for brawls between guys who look like they fell out of a Ramones show thirty years ago – replete with blood trickling from their self-pierced safety pin earring holes. Anyway, as pleasant as all that sounds, there is one reason above all that I have been a Welcome to the Johnsons fan for so long: $2 drinks during happy hour (from when you wake up till 9 PM). You must not tell anyone about this. It’s a secret.

At Welcome to the Johnsons, the drinking begins. First, $2 whiskey and gingers. Then the shots. Last night we did a Red Headed Slut, followed by the bartender’s own concoction, Dr. Nut. Then we continue on with the regular drinks. All the while, the conversation gracefully flits from one topic to the other, weaving in nearby patrons and their opinions of The Flaming Lips, March Madness, olive juice, etc.

cupcackeeIn order for the Shotdog participants to remain reasonable, we all have to eat dinner. Dinner is hotdogs from Dash. In my case, vegetarian chili dogs. In other cases, processed meat monstrosities, choked with bacon, Fritos and other wonderful things. But that’s not all. Then come the chips and salsa from Festival Mexican Restaurant (outside of which, some guy drunkenly peed behind a Pathfinder while everyone in the bar watched with horror and glee) and then cupcakes (including one for the bartender) from Sugar Sweet Sunshine. Please keep in mind, I skipped the gym to partake in this madness.

By 9:00, we are all sufficiently bloated and return home to watch American Idol while we mainline salad and try to rehydrate.

Now, I don’t know if this particular evening’s activities can be approximated in our borough. I have a feeling that it is possible, but only in Williamsburg, where girls in leggings and guys in hoodies are a dime a dozen. The real issue here is that while the people at Johnsons and the people in Williamsburg are all disgusting hipsters, the ones at Johnsons are much skeezier. In my mind, this goes a long way. So, until an absurdly underpriced dive bar and an absurdly overpriced hot dog vendor move into my current hood, I think I’ll just keep hitting up the L.E.S for my shotdog fix.

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In a move that is totally 2007, the Barack Obama campaign team has set up a social networking site called My.BarackObama.com. You can think of it as Facebook‘s really, really timid cousin. You know, with fewer pictures of underage drunk girls and racist parties.

I, for one, am really happy about the development of this site. It’s another demonstration of Obama’s forward-thinking ways. Not only is he creating a community for his young supporters where they have a safe space to dialogue about their dreams for America, he’s making it just a little easier for me to find a husband.

Now, I like universal health care, peace and unions as much as the next guy. I’ll stand beside Obama as he takes on the Halliburtons and the Rangers and all the other ultra-right-wing organizations. But at the end of the day, I’m looking for one thing from my President and that’s easy access to potential suitors or at least drunken, liberal hook-ups.

I can just picture it now: I log into My.BarackObama.com and see I have a new message from HackeySacks1980. “Hey cutie… U R so liberal. U wanna chill 2nite??!”

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