November 2003

This is Louise. I met her at Burning Man in 1999. We got along famously, and while we were getting acquainted, she graciously posed for what used to be the Best Accordion Picture Ever:

Photo: The former Best Accordion Picture Ever.

One of the people behind last Saturday’s For the Love of Breasts gala sent me a photo that shall be the new Best Accordion Picture Ever, and I’ll post it on Monday.

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Esquire’s little black book, The Rules: A Man’s Guide to Life, is an awesome stocking-stuffer. The beauty of books like this, which simply dispense advice in little bites, is that they’re fun to read at the Christmas/Hannukah/Kwanzaa/Festivus party right after you’ve opened them. Some of the rules:

Rule 3:

Do not trust a man who calls the bathroom “the little boys’ room”.

Rule 13:

The team mascot sleeps alone.

Rule 21:

Talk half as much as you listen.

Rule 22:

If you have been drinking, arrested, or touring a hostile land full of gun-toting fundamentalists, or if you are the lead singer of Sugar Ray, talk one-fifth as much as you listen.

Rule 34:

People will compliment you on the cheap artwork you purchased at IKEA, but it will feel hollow.

Rule 45:

The soft taco is the only taco that matters.

Rule 56:

No mammals on the sweaters. Or belts.

Rule 63:

Never trust an act of civil disobedience led by a disc jockey.

Rule 72:

A man whose belt is fastened on the last hole is a desperate and resourceless-looking man.

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"He’s very slowly getting away!"

by Joey deVilla on November 28, 2003

Looks like the first Segway-based hit-and-run accident has taken place:

There was a bizarre hit and run that took place in San Francisco on Tuesday between a 3-year-old girl and a Segway. It may be the first accident of it’s kind locally involving the motorized scooter which happens to be banned on city sidewalks.

Three-year-old Ruby Bleskacek sustained cuts, bruises and a nasty bump on her head…The child was walking outside her father’s Potrero Hill store on Tuesday when a Segway ran her down. Witnesses say it was traveling about 10 miles per hour.

Joel Bleskacek, father: “I was quite angry and I confronted him. I asked him why he was driving so fast during the crowded lunch hour on the sidewalk. He claimed my daughter jumped in front of him.”

The man fled the scene on his Segway. Police think he lives in the neighborhood.

I actually didn’t think it was possible to “flee a scene” on a Segway. They don’t go much faster than a brisk trot. A reasonably healthy person who wasn’t wearing leather-soled dress shoes should’ve had no trouble catching up with the guy. I wonder why someone didn’t chase after him.

They guy shouldn’t be too hard to find; Segways are extremely rare luxury items sold directly by the manufacturer. Sales records should narrow the list of suspects pretty quickly.

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How *not* to reward your employees

by Joey deVilla on November 28, 2003

Air Canada’s best rank-and-file employees may have just received the worst Christmas bonus issued outside the Third World:

MONTREAL (Reuters) – Pleased with workers who scored top marks on customer service, Air Canada recently picked 100 at random to give them a bonus — a $3.78 hamburger coupon that expires in five weeks.

Employees winning the award were sent a personal letter containing the coupon, redeemable until Dec 31 at the Harvey’s hamburger chain, Second Cup coffee shops or other restaurant outlet owned by Cara Operations Ltd., which provides food service for the insolvent airline.

Air Canada said the awards came at no cost to the carrier, mainly because the coupons will soon expire.

They couldn’t even get enough coupons for all their best people, but had to have a lottery. I don’t think I’ll be flying Air Canada anytime soon — I mean, aside from their disgruntled employees, I wonder where else they’re cutting corners.

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Have you ever wondered how hard it is to ask “Pardon me, do you have any Grey Poupon?” from inside a limo?

(For our non-North American readers: this is a gag based on a famous series of television ads in which a distinguished man with a vague British accent in a Bentley rolls down his window and asks passers-by by if they have a particular brand of dijon mustard.)

For our pal Chetan, it’s very, very, very hard.

(Chetan’s the creator of the comic character Tic Toc Tom, a character so cool that he’s open to all sorts of interpretations by different writers and artists. Tic Toc Tom is the predecessor of Jenny Everywhere, right down to the goggles.)

Two days before my birthday party, for her friend Kerry-Ann’s birthday, Sam rented a limo into which Paul B., Paul M., Chetan, Kerry-Ann, she and I piled into for a rye-and-coke-soaked city cruise, followed by a nice steak dinner at the Keg Mansion. While driving about the city, we got the goofy (and probably alcohol-induced) idea that one of us should try the “Grey Poupon” gag. Chetan, being near the window facing the sidewalk, was assigned. The following QuickTime video clips document what happened.

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The Picture of Everything

by Joey deVilla on November 27, 2003

Okay, it may not contain everything, but it does contain a helluva lot!

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It’s happened on each of my three birthday parties, and always in my kitchen: a committed, attached or unavailable-in-some-way-or-another young woman accosts me against the fridge with a passionate kiss in front of a witness.

This is the story of the last one.

Her: You handled those cops so well!

Me: It’s just negotiation, that’s all.

Her: I would’ve been screaming at them, telling them to fuck off and probably get arrested.

Me: The trick is not to do that, see?

Her: Well, you deserve a drink. Shot of Jagermeister?

Me: Please.

She pours two shots. She drinks one, and pours the other down her cleavage.

Her (stage whisper): Drink.

Me: Uh…er…well, okay.

Soon afterwards, Sam walks into the kitchen, sees what’s going on, but can’t resist watching.

Her: You’re so cute.

Me (thinking): You’re damned right.

She leans into to deliver a long lingering kiss, which includes a very sharp bite to my lower lip. She then leaves to catch up with her boyfriend.

Sam: Wow! You’re a machine, man!

Me: Ow.

My lower lip is really smarting, and I place my index finger on the sore spot. There’s a drop of blood.

Me: Ooh. Sort of like my last girlfriend. No, wait — the second last one.

Sam: That’s just freaky!

Me: Strangely enough, I’m really turned on right now.

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