I guess Scott Weiland won't be needing my $54 for bail today

Editors note:  In a continuing effort to properly honor my old MySpace blog, I am reposting some of my old posts to the Homeskillet.  I am concerned that the posts from the old blog will completely disappear into the internet ether if I don't, partly because the posts have already disappeared once now, and partly because I'm convinced--and a little shocked that it hasn't already happened--that MySpace will just shut down one day leaving thousands and thousands of gratuitous F-bombs without a home.

Originally posted January 25th, 2008:

I had a rough week at work.  We were beyond busy at the Rabbit and people were generally angry.  For some reason, a guy even called me a "cock blocker", which is pretty funny considering that I was assisting him in the accumulation of porn so he could masturbate.

 

Anyhow, when I left downtown last night, I looked forward to a nice long evening of wine, music and my Playstation 3.  I get off the train at Lawrence and glance over at the Riviera Theatre and lo and behold Velvet Revolver is playing.  Now I'm faced with a choice:  Do I go get that burrito that I was so looking forward to and proceed to get all fucked up on my couch?  Or do I randomly go to a concert?  Having just finished the autobiography of Slash--cleverly titled "Slash"--I chose the concert. 

It's been a while since I've been to a real concert.  In fact, I got kind of giddy as I walked the half block to the venue.  I'm a huge Guns N' Roses fan and here was the opportunity to see 3/5 of the original lineup on stage!  Totally random.  I enter the venue and am immediately greeted by a super angry old woman frantically screaming at me to close the door.  Now, I know it was technically negative 3 degrees out but geeze.  I approach a giant, affable black dude for my post-911 standard weapons and liberties check.  He frisks me and since I was coming from work, I was carrying my computer bag which, in reality, is a glorified lunch box.  He says, "What's in the bag?"  I open it and we have the following exchange:

Him:  "Got any hand grenades or chainsaws in there?  What you got?"

Me:  "Oh lets see.  A book about Disney World and a bag of jelly."

Him:  (eyebrows raised)  "Jelly?"

Me:  "Yeah, I made monte christos for lunch and I needed raspberry jelly for dipping."

Him:  "I hear that."

Me:  (opening the main section of my bag)  "Oh!  And I have three pairs of boxer shorts!"

Him:  (stares blankly)

Me:  "Uh, there was a sale at Brooks Brothers today.  Three pairs for forty bucks!"

Him:  (stares blankly)

Me:  "Um, that's a deal I just can't pass up!"

Him:  "So, what you're saying is, in your bag, you have a book about Disney World, a bag of Jelly and three pairs of underpants."

Me:  "Yes."

Him:  "Carry on."

Giggling, I do indeed carry on and approach the box office window, ask for a ticket and lay down my credit card.  The woman behind the counter, obviously trying to win customer service agent of the year, looks down at my card and actually screams "$54, CASH ONLY!"  I calmly pick up my credit card, put it back in my wallet, high five my new favorite bouncer on the way out and proceed to the 84 bus. 

Leaving the door open as I exit.  

Boom!

Lacivious

Editors note:  In a continuing effort to properly honor my old MySpace blog, I am reposting some of my old posts on the Homeskillet.  I am concerned that the posts from the old blog will completely disappear into the internet ether if I don't, partly because the posts have already disappeared once now. and partly because I'm convinced--and a little shocked that it hasn't already happened--that MySpace will just shut down one day leaving thousands and thousands of gratuitous F-bombs without a home.

Continuing in that series is a post that originally appeared on December 12th, 2008 and covered one of my more unique challenges while I worked for Hef at the Rabbit.  


So, we're in the midst of a total redesign of the Playboy websites.  As it stands right now, we have 16 separate sites to which an aroused man may subscribe.  When a dude subscribes to one, he often assumes, rightfully so, that he should have access to everything we have to offer.  Unfortunately, that is not the case.  A guy pays for one website and as he's poking around at others, he is constantly asked for his credit card information again.  It can be confusing and certainly frustrating for a lot of guys who have slapped down as much as $39.86 a month for one of our websites, already have their pants at their ankles and are frantically attempting to type with one hand. 

We've listened to our customers and we're condensing out product into one ginormously large website simply called "The Club".  Folks won't be asked for a payment a 2^nd time and there will be far fewer headaches for us phone jockeys. 

As a result of this redesign however, we have to go through and rate the "heat level" for all 100,000 images within our websites.  Keep in mind, these are the magazine images dating back to the Marilyn issue back in 1955 all the way up to the digital content we shoot for the websites now.  We've set up this rating system in case a sponsor wants to throw a banner add on a page but also wants to avoid full-frontal nudity (Budweiser) or, on the other hand, if a sponsor specifically wants to advertise on a page with full frontal nudity (Astroglide).

The following piece of information should surprise no one:  I volunteered to be on the photo-rating team. 

In fairness to me, I just volunteered for a project, not specifically this particular project.  That's just what it turned out to be.  And that's how I found myself rating Playmate photo's dating back to 1955 on the following system, officially transcribed from the official Playboy memo.  In case you were wondering, no, I am not making this up...though the explanations were added by me:

Heat Level 1:  Non-sexual content.  Non-girl related editorial. (This is a Playmate in her natural habitat!  She's riding a horse!  Maybe she's skiing!  She looks like such a fun-loving, All-American girl!)

Heat Level 2:  Fully Clothed Model.  May show leg and arm but minimal cleavage exposure. (Our Playmate has now put her horse in the barn and is resting on a bale of hay.  "Is it hot in here?," she asks.  Maybe I should undo my top button...")

Heat Level 3:  Models are clothed in lingerie, swimsuit or other attire which reveals significant skin.  No nipples or pubic region revealed.  No read-end nudity or cleavage.  (Our model is now relaxing with a glass of wine next to a roaring fire.  She looks a little out of breath.)

Heat Level 4:  Models have removed clothes but due to the angle of the shot or pose, nipples and genitals are completely covered. No visible "pink".  ("Did my clothes fall off?  And why is this satin sheet so tiny?  Tee-hee!")

Heat Level 5:  Models have removed clothes but due to the angle of the shot no nipples or genitals are not visible at all.   Complete breast profile is allowed but no "pink" visible.  Visible rear ends are acceptable so long as it is clear that the girl is wearing a thong. ("Advertise on this page, Pepsi!  It is clear that I am wearing a thong!")

Heat Level 6:  Exposed, completely nude rear-end.  No other nudity...partially removed or lowered thongs are a 6  (Our model has now slid her thong off in a seductive manner but don't worry advertisers!  It's still hanging partially off her butt.  That's why this photo is a 6 and not a 5.  Rules are rules.)

Heat Level 7:  Breasts and nipples are exposed.  No exposure of pubic region or genitals.  The pose is on the conservative end of the spectrum; a modeling shot.  ("Ooops!  A raccoon seems to have stolen my bra!")

Heat Level 8:  A "Hotter" shot.  Breast and nipples are exposed.  No exposure of pubic region or genitals.  The pose is sensual or seductive, including the girl pulling on her bottoms.  Can be fully nude but posed such that genitals are not visible. (This is the top-heavy, "come hither" look that made Playboy famous until the internet shattered Hef's will to live.)

Heat Level 9:  Genital Nudity but not-lascivious.  Pubic region and genitals exposed.  The pose would be considered not lascivious.  ("I'm now totally naked riding my horse!")

Heat Level 10:  Pubic region and genitals exposed.  Focal point of the image is the pubic region and/or the genitals, and the pose is lascivious, including the girl presenting her genitals or touching bare genitals.  (Our model is now laying down, perhaps with her back arched.  She is clearly about to "get it".  This pose was designed specifically for 13 year-old boys and that 13 year-old boy will remember her forever, says Mike who still cannot forget Cheryl Bachman, Playmate of the Month, October 1991.)

What an absurd way to make a living.

Hark! Blog Entry 100

Originally posted September 16th, 2008

Allow me to be self-indulgent for a moment.

I was bored at work the other day.  Tremendously bored.  Bored to fucking tears.  It was a Sunday, football had just begun and America was nursing its hangover with nachos and a new round of beers while I was stuck at work.  So, I started putzing around at MySpace.  I looked at my blog to see if anyone new had subscribed (NO!) but, much to my sheer glee, I found that I was sitting on 98 blog entries.  Neat-o!  I spent the next two hours, between phone calls, re-reading everything I had written and compiling a list of quotes, pounded-into-the-ground subjects and general mayhem that I have brought to you, my intrepid fan base of 12.  Here's what I found:  I found that I am more than a bit disturbed.  But you clearly knew that:

Number of times I've talked about:

Astroglide:  2
Spam:   2
Masturbation:  5
Politics:  2
Marc McCann:  2
The White Sox:  8
The Cubs:  4
The 2005 World Series Champion White Sox:  3
My Dad:  6
The Godparents:  22
Alzheimer's in General:  8
Beer:  16
Drinking in General:  30

My Balls/Dick/Nuts/Cock/Wang:  10
The McRib:  5
Macaroni and Cheese:  5
Gratuitous uses of the word "Fuck":  26
Walt Disney World:  6
The Porn Store:  3
Bacon:  3

So, it would appear that I'm obsessed with the fatty foods, my wang, the White Sox and swearing.  Awesome.

But no recap of the first 100 posts would be complete without a mention of those that have followed them lo these 2 1/2 years.  The top five readers that provided comments are:

1:  Ms. Juggs Bunny with a resounding 12 comments!  Congrats, Ms Bunny!  Show us your tits!
2:  5,000^th Blog winner Mary Kate Collins with a fantastic 11 comments!  So close to the top, MK!
2.1:  Norm Smaligo, also with a fantastic showing of 11 comments! 
4:  Marc McCann's lovely girlfriend Kristen with a fine showing of 10 comments!  Kristen has a special place in my heart for being the only one out her couple to join me for the Bears in the Superbowl. 
5:  The Ex-Girlfriend, Jen with a perfectly adequate showing of 7 comments!

Finally, I have culled together a list of my personal favorite and out of context quotes that will probably have a few folks unsubscribing to my blog immediately:

"I almost shat my pants with glee..."
"Tits!  For just $19.95 a month!"
"Whacked Chorizo."
"You're going to shit fire!"
"Can Nyquil and vodka really be that bad for me?"
"And here to honor America:  Bonerama!"
"Bang my Enchilada."
"...with what can only be described as 'his entire forearm in a girl's vagina.'"
"Anyhoo, let me take a moment to tell you about my Indonesian manservant, Antonio."
"I explain that the ketchup and mustard simply act as a lube but he doesn't listen..."
"He kept his hotdog warm by holding it in his armpit."
"I find nothing erotic about Evan and crab people."

  Clearly, I've had fun with this blog thing.  And I look forward to the next 100 posts, which will probably happen at Facebook or some shit because MySpace seems to be dying.  But I'm going to hold out for a while on that one, kids.  I mean, I would have to transfer my blog, and that's just too much cutting and pasting...even during a slow day at Playboy.com.  And how am I supposed to continue my life's dream of helping grown men masturbate if I'm wasting time at Facebook? 

MySpace Lives!

I've been without home internet for a few months and it kind of sucks.  Not only can I not download files of an adult nature but I can't, you know, blog and stuff without leaving the compound.  As a matter of fact, I type this now not from my couch, but from a church pew at the best pie place in Chicago, First Slice Pie Cafe on Ashland.  

Lacking internet has cramped my style.  While I obviously look for any excuse to patronize an establishment that serves pie, I don't like to sit next to three 15 year-olds who are loudly talking about high school shit.  Seated next to me are two dudes who clearly have a crush on the 3rd companion--"Zoe"--a 15 year old girl in a tiny top who is bragging about all the older guys who are asking her out, while blindingly crushing the souls of her dining companions.  But the pumpkin pie cheese cake was fabulous.

I come to the pie place a couple of times a week.  They have a good internet connection, the pie is amazing and I hear they serve other things.  They also give free food to any homeless person that walks in, a noble mission to be sure.  However, it's always crowded and I find it difficult to blog about my personal feelings surrounded by so many people, be those feelings about my concern in looking for an awesome job or Scarlett Johanssons's chest.  

(Update!  Zoe just playfully threw a crumpled-up napkin at one of her mop-headed friend-zoners and it bounced off his forehead and hit me in the thigh.  She apologized.  He came.)

I feel a little cut-off from the outside world, lacking home internet.  Sure, I have my iPhone which I think we can all agree is the pinnacle of human achievement.  But I have trouble looking at more expansive websites with the iPhone or exploring deep into the internet, link after fascinating link with that tiny screen.  

For instance, I've been meaning to go back to MySpace to check and see if my former blog still existed.  It's a good thing I did because it sort of didn't.  I say "sort of" because all MySpace blogs unexpectedly disappeared back in June, much to the internet's chagrin.  An immediate outcry occurred that I was able to follow thanks to the magic of the interwebs and I'm sure the folks who run MySpace were just excited that someone cared.  Kind of like Zoe's response to the inevitable half-hearted suicide attempt by one of my dining companions that will occur next week.  Fortunately, I was able to download my posts but I had to jump through a few hoops to do so.  

For those of you who are not part of the fearless 7 that have been with me since 2006, you missed out.  My MySpace blog was poorly written, full of masturbation jokes, spelling errors and grammatical hilarity.  It actually made your computer reek of alcohol.  But there was some fun stuff there; stories from my time at Playboy, travels with the Godparents and at least one awful, awful tale of a chicken wing eating contest gone bad.  Now, it would appear, that while I have access to the text of these posts, the world no longer does.

This will not stand.

So, over the next few weeks, I'm going to be reposting some of my favorites from the MySpace blog here, for posterity but also because I feel that these posts might just fully disappear in the very near future.  And also because I need to do something with a blog I haven't updated since September.  

Consider yourself warned.