I would like to sleep with Chuck Klosterman. This is not because he is so smart/witty/hilarious that he has become sexy to me despite his unfortunate nose and general air of goofishness. Chuck is smart/witty/hilarious but these things pretty much never make a girl want to sleep with a boy (I believe this is something that CK himself has observed). People who argue that smarts equals crazy hawt are usually just smart folks who are trying to convert others to this line of reasoning so that in future their own (perhaps not so hawt) ass can get some action. I should know because selling such hogwash is the third official goal of this very blog. No, I want to fuck CK because having sex with someone is like voting and doing the nasty with Chuck is like casting a vote for nerdy writers and I am very pro nerdy writers. Hopefully after our little romp word will spread that hot chicks (me.) LOVE nerdy writers and other nerdy writers with be encouraged by this. Perhaps such buzz will inspire latent talent in those not previously self identifying as nerdy writers. And then all of us are rewarded with more entertaining essays on popculture. It's public service sex. God bless democracy. (consider this my official nod to Super Tuesday).
Mrs. May's Pumpkin Crunch
I bought this snack pack because I needed something crunchy to munch on that could somehow be construed as not horribly bad for me. I went into the deli wanting a bag of salt and vinegar chips and/or possible an entire package of goat cheese smeared on some crusty bread so the pumpkin crunch was obviously a bit of a compromise. However this lesser evil allowed me seven pieces for a mere 164 calories which seemed decidedly healthy in comparison to every other remotely yummy thing on the planet. Dear GOD these are good. If I ever weigh 300lbs it will be directly related to portion control because SURE 164 calories is a totally reasonable snack but that statistic is based on the theory that one can limit their pumpkin crunch intake to less than 45 pieces per sitting and maybe somewhere there is a super race of highly advanced mutants who can conform to such fascist restrictions but I am a mere mortal.
Let's be honest, we all have a few hairs hanging out in places where one would like to pretend hair never grows (no need to reveal these places by name). If you're like me (read: a seriously cheap mofo) you tell yourself that the $8 tweezers that they sell at the drug store are totally capable of ridding your body of such unsightliness. You are wrong. Were it not for tweezerman I would be in the freakshow. I bought one in red because I'm a whore but they come in lots of chaste colors too.