right, you can't make up stuff like that.
--- In [email protected], "Maureen" <[EMAIL PROTECTED]> wrote: > > what i find funny is that i don't doubt, for one second, that you > ACTUALLY did this IRL... > > --- In [email protected], "Ray Bradley" > <clavenia@> wrote: > > > > Since we're still stuck in the winter of our discontent, our Dark > Age > > before the Dawning of the New Light of Our Beloved Gene, I have > > decided to take forth the reins of hilarity and Channel Gene with > a > > Just Inside The Beltway column. > > > > Essentially, I shall rewrite a classic Gene column and show what > > would happen if everybody's favorite middle aged culturally Jewish > > humor writer from New York had been replaced with, well, me. A > > bonafide Maryland mutt with no real moral compass or the > complusion > > to do anything about it. > > > > > > > > Ray's Close Shave > > The adventures of a not-so-smooth operator > > > > Originally done By Gene Weingarten > > Sunday, June 25, 2006; Page W40 > > > > > > The question that we columnists hear most frequently is: "Do you > use > > water when you bathe, or just an ungodly amount of Axe deoderant > > spray?" It's a stupid question, because I'm almost 34, and > everybody > > knows that only socially-awkward 15 year old boys use Axe because > > they're too young to get Drakkar (that's for the 18 year olds). So > I > > generally ask people to rephrase it using proper grammar, which > they > > do: "Have you ever groomed yourself, assface?" > > > > Today, I will end the unpleasantness with a straight answer. We > > columnists do our grooming in many ways: applying creams, scented > > lotions, attaching various vibrating devices to appendages that > can > > be found at MVC, 5625 Leesburg Pike, Bailey's Crossroads, Falls > > Church Virginia, by writing things for bored humor enthusiasts who > > can't wait for a real humor writer to come back. > > > > This column is a case in point. I got the idea from a gifted > writer > > named Gene Weingarten who stole this idea from some kid named > Danny > > Jacobs, who asked Gene for his opinion of a humor piece he had > done > > for his college paper at the University of Maryland. Gene said it > was > > swell. Then Gene stole it. Now I'm rewriting it. This is all part > of > > my personal program to shame humor columnists to participate in > chats > > again. Gene stole the article to acquaint young journalists with > > important truths. In this case: Beware, there are vultures > everywhere. > > > > For his article, Danny shaved one half of his face with a new, > super- > > hyped five-blade razor, the other half with his trusty electric, > and > > then had fellow students feel which shave was closer. (The blade.) > It > > occurred to Gene that in the hands of a pro such as himself, this > > idea would present an important journalistic opportunity to ask > women > > he did not know to stroke my face. Since I'm at least 35% more > > perverted than Gene, I figured this would be fine excuse to get > women > > to cop a feel of my supple buttocks. > > > > Plus, I have a great ass. For the past 2 years -- to the derision > of > > my family and friends -- I have been riding my bicycle to and from > > work on a heavy steel mountain bike from 1994. No sane person has > > used a mountain bike this heavy since the era of carbon fiber > > composites and titanium alloys; barring of course the waves of > recent > > immigrants who ride similar bikes to and from their jobs at the > > Jerry's Subs and Pizza. I ride this way because I think it's cool > to > > ride a bike twice a day with something that weighs as much, > > practically, than an Olson Twin. But that's really a bad simile, > so I > > tell people I do it because the heavier bike and fatter tires give > me > > a better work out. Here was an opportunity to discover whether all > > this bike riding might actually be making my ass *too* good. > > > > I rode into work yesterday using my heavy bike to get to work, > only > > using my left leg to pedal. Today, I used my lightweight racing > bike > > using only might right leg. In the interest of science, I am now > > about to go out in the food court and ask 30 women to judge the > > results. Hang on. > > > > Okay, I'm back. I am pleased to report that all but three agreed > to > > participate. One of these turndowns, however, did not go well at > all. > > She listened patiently to my proposal and then wordlessly began to > > run/walk away in the direction of the Pentagon's police staff, a > > group of anti-terrorism specialists with submachine guns. > Mustering > > as much dignity as possible, I headed away, slowly but > purposefully, > > in the opposite direction. > > > > Another turndown went like this: > > > > Pam: Are you asking only women? > > > > Me: Well . . . yes. > > > > Pam: Why? > > > > Me: > > > > Pam: I'll do it if you get a man to do it first. > > > > So I guess, in that case, it was actually I who declined. > > > > Most women seemed to take this diagnostic task very seriously. > > Several checked with the backs of their hands, like a mom testing > for > > fever. Philosophically, the experience was intriguing -- a > metaphor > > for the uncertainty of romance. The mechanics of a caress aren't > all > > that different from those of a slap; it's mostly a matter of > emphasis. > > > > At the Citibank ATM, I explained to a woman named Christianne what > I > > wanted her to do, and she asked: "You mean . . . with my hand?" I > > stammered the first thing that came into my head: "Well, with > > whatever you think appropriate." She did it anyway. > > > > There were scary moments. One young woman named Carole heard my > > pitch, and, stony-faced, immediately reached into her pocketbook > > (mace?) and produced a business card (lawsuit?). Fortunately, she > > just rubbed the edge of the card against my cheeks, listening for > > differences in the scratching sound. "Disappointed I didn't use my > > palm?" Carole asked. "No!" I lied. > > > > Now I know what you are thinking: You are thinking that only a > > perverted man would derive some sort of pleasure from this tiny, > > silly degree of anonymous intimacy. And I'd have to say you were > > right. I am completely ashamed of myself. > > > > The final tally: Thirteen said the left side of my butt was > firmer. > > Thirteen said the right side was smoother. One could not decide. > > > > In short, I may have to do it again. For science. > > > > > > > > *************************************************************** > > >
