Category Archives: curveballs

Just Breathe

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By Bill Browning

I hope not to alarm anyone with this news, but lately I haven’t been regular. No one needs to panic or anything. I am … emptying, more or less, most days, just not fully or as breezily as is normal for me. Frankly, it’s a bit traumatizing.

I’m usually on a quite tidy and convenient schedule. I mean the bus has been leaving at exactly 11:30 in the morning for years. But now — and I don’t know why — it’s this big ol’ sluggish, sporadic and unpredictable thing. One day I won’t go at all and the next I’m going at like 5:10 in the afternoon — while I’m at work! Or I’m getting the urge at like 4:20 in the morning, while in bed.

And the thing is … here’s the thing: I only like to poop at home and when it’s daylight out. The truth is, setting my naked butt where the butts of naked strangers have recently sat creeps me out, and I find Drew Carey’s voice on The Price Is Right very relaxing.

It’s not like I’m a prude and haven’t encountered crowds of bare asses here and there. I have. For different reasons, though, and those asses weren’t making doodie. Making doodie is nasty.

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Up in the Air

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Editor’s Note: originally published July 20, 2011

By Paula Burba

“He’s just so fucking perky. You just want to punch him in the face,” I said to Bill while watching the “white box challenge” episode of Design Star the other night. “Oh, I don’t think she has any self-doubt at all. I think bitch needs some self-doubt,” I went on, correcting a judge’s assessment.

Then Selling LA came on and before changing channels I declared to Bill, innocent bystander, “Who is this jackass? I mean, does this guy really exist? He’s an animated Abercrombie mannequin on steroids.”

Yeah… it’s been one month of unemployment, alright.

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Thunderstruck

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By Bill Browning

I recently watched a long TV ad — or a short infomercial — for a “thundervest.” It’s a thing you wrap around your dog to, I suppose, make your pet feel safe. They say it’s like a hug.

One woman says she was able to reduce Fido’s or Spot’s meds after snuggling him up in such a vest, and a man in the ad says his dog was able to get off its meds completely.

Now, I love animals. I do. Even cats. Actually, I can take or leave cats, but I do love dogs. And some cats. I don’t care for ferrets. … Okay. The ferret thing’s out there, now. You happy?

Anyway, I am fond of dogs, but I honestly do not understand the medication thing. I mean, I’ve had several dogs and not once did I ever think like: “Duchess has low self esteem. I wonder if she might benefit from a little something pharmaceutical?” I think if you have a depressed dog, or one with obsessive-compulsive disorder, medicine ain’t the answer.

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The Hunger Games

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By Paula Burba

A half-dozen observations from June 2012, lightly peppered with profanity in defiance of current societal plague of preciousness:

1. Took forever, but finished Mockingjay, final book in The Hunger Games trilogy. Vowed to read no more book series. By middle of third book, did not give a shit what happened to those kids. Series are better for television. One story in one book from now on for me. Hated the ending. Thought I’d stumbled onto a unique character and female role model — sure, it was too violent, but I was prepared to overlook that in the name of getting girls caught up to the level of violence boys have been spoon-fed from the cradle. But no, I expected too much. It virtually ended in 19fucking50s Land. Might as well have been goddamn Twilight.

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The Big Combo

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By Paula Burba

I live in Louisville, Kentucky, and, bless our hearts, we’re getting good and goddamn manly around here, according to a couple of no-real-purpose marketing gimmicks. Just in the nick of time, too: like so much of America, we were getting way too girly!

In March, Louisville was crowned America’s “manliest city” by sexyman style bible GQ.

This month, Combos (Mars Chocolate’s “hearty pretzel and cracker snack made with real cheese”) announced Louisville is No. 11 in manliness (up two slots from last year) in their ranking of 50 American cities.

The only things these titles are good for: media coverage for those doing the naming. Hey, it works. I bought that issue of GQ (that’s certainly not a habit) and read up on Mars’ web site.

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