(For a story on a creepy-sounding trend called “attachment parenting” (was “barnacle parenting” taken?), Time Magazine ran a picture on this week’s cover of a woman breast-feeding her son. The child is three, but, to the untrained eyes of the childless, appears to be taller and older – maybe six, or seven, or on his way to take his first driving test. Either way, the kid looks a bit too old to be suckling on the cover of a once-significant newsmagazine. With Mother’s Day in mind, Michelle Markowitz responds to Time’s desperate plea for attention. – LG)
I’m not really sure what’s up with parenting now. Are we all supposed to be eating our own placentas, Alicia Silverstone’ing our children’s food, and breastfeeding them after they text us from their own iPhones that they’re parched and would I mind stopping by their room and topping them up for the night? Hopefully, by the time I have kids, I can conduct most of my parenting through Skype, apps, and robots.
In the meantime, I can’t help but be really grateful attachment parenting was not the zeitgeist of the late eighties, when I was in my formative years. I can’t picture my Mom attempting to breastfeed me at the age of six, though if she tried, I can only imagine my reaction. It would probably be along the lines of:
- No thanks. I’ll definitely take some more Tab though if you don’t mind.
- I’m gonna JUST SAY NO on this one.
- I might be willing to consider this, but it’ll cost you a lot of Cabbage (Patch dolls)
- I don’t have time for that right now!! I’m trying to unload these junk bonds then prepare my own sushi!! (I was heavily influenced by the Charlie Sheen character in Wall Street)
- I would, but WHERE’S THE BEEF??
- Can’t you see I’m in my leg warmers?! This Jane Fonda video isn’t gonna watch itself! (I really used to do this.)
- Can’t talk now, watching this Gary Hart drama unfold.
- Hmm, has Dad signed off on this one? Really don’t need a Kramer vs. Kramer situation on my hands…
- WHAT?!!!! NO THANK YOU!!!! THIS IS HORRIFYING AND SCARRING!!!!!!!! (The most plausible reaction)
- Wow, Mom. I think you’re great, really. You snapped right back to that pre-baby weight like a champ, and jazzercised your little heart out. But I just don’t think this would be right for us. But no hard feelings! I’d really like to remain friends!
With 20 nonconsecutive weeks at #1 and total domination over last week’s Grammy’s, Adele continues to cement her burgeoning superstar status. But given that her hit album, 21, was written about one unfortunate ex-boyfriend, his anonymity throughout her rise has been something of a mystery. Well, fear not, folks, because the mystery man has finally come clean – and, not surprisingly, he’s kind of a douche. But at least he’s a funny douche. Enjoy.
Man in Suit: Good evening ladies and gentleman. Sorry to disturb you. I have a home I don’t deserve, and made twelve million dollars last year betting against your mortgages. If anybody here would like a dollar, or some change, or an apple please just ask. Anything I can do helps.
–6 Train
Guy in Cab: Hey, it’s 103rd and Broadway. Do you mind if I acknowledge you as a fellow human being by engaging in conversation?
Guy driving Cab: Sure. I love talking to passengers!
-Midtown
[Subway performer almost kicks woman in face spinning on hand bar]
Man riding Subway: Man, that was incredible! Guys, I’m a big Hollywood producer. I’ve been riding the subways for months now looking for something fresh and you guys are that in one crazy nutshell! I know what the people want and America wants to see young people standing on their heads on moving platforms! I’d like to sign you all to a big contract and take this thing global!
Subway Performer: Man, we knew this day would come.
–R Train
Man at Bar: I’ll take a decent beer, please.
Bartender: That’ll be four dollars.
–West Village
Starbucks Employee: Hi! Welcome to Manhattan Public Restroom #32. Would you like an overpriced coffee after you’re done pooping?
–32nd and 7th
Guy on Corner: Hey, do you wanna grab an organic ice cream and free-range chocolate covered Belgian Waffle from the Ice Cream Waffle Bar on the corner?
Woman on Corner: This is the Bronx.
Guy on Corner: Oh, right. Well, do you want to go to Burger King?
–223rd Street
Guy in Comfortable Looking Sweater: So I called them up and they fixed it immediately.
Other Guy: Yeah. I love my Time Warner Cable service too. I’m surprised you even had a problem in the first place.
Guy in Comfortable Looking Sweater: Yeah, it was probably something I did.
–West 4th St
Attractive Girl on Bus #1: Hey what are you writing in that notebook? Are you a sketch artist? Are sketching me?
Mirth contributorLivia Scott recently debuted her first music video, “I Like You Better on Facebook.” Within days of going public, it wound up on the front page of Funny or Die - among many other sites – and now has over 100,000 views on YouTube. We asked Livia to share what she’d learned about having a video go viral.
1. Someone without a dick will comment that you “aren’t hot enough” for (him) to have sex with,” and that therefore your video sucks. Although this news will be devastating and you should give yourself time to heal by curling up with a pint of Ben & Jerry’s and The Real Housewives or The Bachelor (or some other guilty pleasure where all the women on it hate each other, right ladies?!?!), you can take comfort in the knowledge that as a woman in the entertainment industry, this means you’ve made it. Congrats!
2. You’ll be invited to be a talking head on VH1 and weigh in on “Teen Mom.”
3. If your video is satirical, you will get lots of comments from people who don’t understand satire or irony, like, “I don’t get it!” and “TOO MUCH AUTOTUNE!”
4. You will obsessively check Twitter and be disappointed that you don’t have 25,000 new followers.
5. You’ll eventually take it all in stride, enjoy the moment, be grateful for your day job and get back to work.
In order to protest SOPA, the STOP ONLINE PIRACY ACT, sites throughout the internet, including Wikipedia, Craigslist, and Reddit, went dark yesterday, replacing their homepages with ominous graphics and admonitions that reminded me to go back and read The Da Vinci Code once more. Thankfully, as the day progressed, we still had an old online workhorse like HappyPlace to let us know what it would have been like if the most ridiculous sites on the Internet had joined the anti-SOPA blackout. So while we had to do without Wikipedia, let’s just be thankful we didn’t lose their valuable services as well, so that the gnashing of teeth and rending of garments was kept to an absolute minimum.
On this week’s “Mental Illness Happy Hour” podcast, comedian and Twitter deity Rob Delaney speaks candidly with host Paul Gilmartin about his history of alcoholism and depression. Don’t feel bad if you laugh: its not all funny, but its not all not funny, either. If there’s one man who can illuminate the dark pleasure of hospital gowns and male morning sickness, it seems to be Rob Delaney. Enjoy!
Before FX gave him the freedom to indulge his wild creativity on “Louie,” and even before the crushing disappointment of “Pootie Tang,” Louis CK played around with short films that showed a lovingly demented comic mind at work, with a touch of humanism to boot (“We’re still poor, may we always be. Keeps you human.”) That this short film, “Brunch,” was co-written with Rick Shapiro is no surprise. That Howie Mandel had a role – that could use some explaining. Enjoy.
Yesterday was my birthday. I had planned on spending an intimate evening at home with my assistant, Ricardo, and my favorite DVD treat, Ben Hur, while my Chinaman, Ming, kept my glass refilled with sloe gin fizz.
My plans, however, were ABORTED, when the television froze on the E! network. The channel wouldn’t change, and as I shouted at Ming to unplug the TV, he electrocuted himself from having gin fizz on his hands and died within five seconds. Then Ricardo screamed and ran out. I chased after him, catching my foot and twisting my ankle inside the mouth of my panther-skin rug, and fell facing the television in a state of complete paralysis, forced to watch a marathon of Keeping Up with the Kardashians.
Well, HAPPY F***ING BIRTHDAY TO ME!!!!!!
I lay there for 12 hours, powerless to stop watching these parasites of humanity, these blithering retards, these insipid, vapid, asinine dipshits coo about the most BORING topics imaginable, and fantasized about how nice it would be to be waterboarded, or to find myself in a shark attack.
WHO ARE YOU WEARING?
A mix of designers, but mostly God.
WHERE DID YOU GET YOUR SHOES?
Dog Poop & Cabanna. Hahahahaha! Just kidding. Key Foods. They have a lot of great stuff there.
HOW WOULD YOU DEFINE YOUR
PERSONAL STYLE?
Bohemian chic meets dystopian nightmare. I have a few standard pieces that can go with anything — like my jars of urine — and then I mix them with trendier items, like cat litter. I keep it simple. AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!! Have you seen Ringo????!?!?!!! He has my eyes! READ MORE >>
Cut up one breast of chicken (one pound), being careful not to accidentally slit your wrists with the knife as it would likely be days before anyone found the body.
Bring a pan to medium heat. After two minutes, cover the bottom of the pan with a thin layer of cooking oil. No need for anything fancy, like olive oil. It’s just you there.
Sprinkle the chicken with some pre-made lemon pepper seasoning you got at the local Gristedes. Season to your own taste. In fact, feel free to just drench the chicken in salt. Who cares what happens to your heart? Maybe it would have been better if you had accidentally cut your wrists open during step one. What’s the goddamn point?
Cook the chicken in the pan on medium heat for about eight minutes on each side. You should probably use a different fork for flipping the chicken while cooking it than you use for eating it later, but who really gives a damn. You live alone. For a moister chicken, cover the pan.
Add some seasoned rice or a salad or some other boring, god-awful mess as a side. Garnish your salad with olives, carrots, grape tomatoes, and regrets
(1 quart).
Ta-da! You have the chicken and side dish you deserve. And SURPRISE! This much chicken actually serves two, so it will be more than enough to feed you for two equally miserable days.
Yesterday was my birthday. I had planned on spending an intimate evening at home with my assistant, Ricardo, and my favorite DVD treat, Ben Hur, while my Chinaman, Ming, kept my glass refilled with sloe gin fizz.
