Tag Archive: travel


The liberal media wants you to think that everything is fine in the military after DADT was repealed.But why have they been so silent about these VERY REAL consequences? Tell everyone you know about these issues. We will not be silenced!


1. These gay midshipmen were able to pose for this photograph.

These gay midshipmen were able to pose for this photograph.
Image by Baltimore Sun / Getty Images

2. A man posted this on Facebook.

A man posted this on Facebook.
Source: facebook.com

3. This couple posted a Youtube video of themselves getting married.

This couple posted a Youtube video of themselves getting married.
Source: youtube.com

You can watch that video here.

Source: youtube.com

4. These guys hugged in public.

These guys hugged in public.
Source: Joe Dyer  /  via: seattlepi.com

5. These ladies kissed in public.

These ladies kissed in public.
Source: AP

6. This couple hugged and kissed in public.

This couple hugged and kissed in public.
Image by David Lewis / AP

7. They even made the news for it!

They even made the news for it!
Via: zaqspears

8. This couple posted a picture of themselves after they got married on Facebook.

This couple posted a picture of themselves after they got married on Facebook.
Source: facebook.com

9. This couple instagram’d a picture of themselves.

This couple instagram'd a picture of themselves.
Source: facebook.com

10. This guy came out to his dad.

This guy came out to his dad.

You can watch that video here.

11. Jackie Decarlo went to a picnic with her partner.

Jackie Decarlo went to a picnic with her partner.

12. Two guys got engaged.

Two guys got engaged.

13. Even more guys got married.

Even more guys got married.
Source: Jeff Sheng  /  via: slate.com

14. Two guys held hands on a bed.

Two guys held hands on a bed.

15. These sailors marched, for the first time, in a parade.

These sailors marched, for the first time, in a parade.

16. These ladies kissed in a parade.

These ladies kissed in a parade.
Source: AP

17. This guy wore a flag as a cape in a parade.

This guy wore a flag as a cape in a parade.
Image by Sandy Huffaker / Getty Images

18. This guy danced with his flag in a parade.

This guy danced with his flag in a parade.
Image by Sandy Huffaker / Getty Images

19. Look at all those gays and their tiny flags!

Look at all those gays and their tiny flags!
Source: AP


Source: Getty

21. Lady Gaga finally shut up.

Lady Gaga finally shut up.
Source: eftekasat.net

22. This guy was reinstated in the military.

This guy was reinstated in the military.
Source: theunion.com

23. A rainbow flag was raised in Afghanistan.

A rainbow flag was raised in Afghanistan.

24. Lesbians kissed.

Lesbians kissed.
Source: army-wife23

25. More lesbians kissed.

More lesbians kissed.

26. And this will never happen again.

And this will never happen again.


Oh Pretty!

A dragonfly is covered in dew in this beautiful close-up by Martin Amm.

Mike Ike Divorce

Mike and Ike might have been a popular candy years ago, but the brand is in need of a facelift. Enter the Elevator Group, an ad agency that has chosen a pretty progressive tactic for getting young people to care about the candy again: gay divorce.

That’s right folks, Mike and Ike are heading for splitsville, so Mike can work on his music and Ike can work on his art. This separation is realized through new packaging, which has logos with either “Mike” or “Ike” scrubbed out reports the New York Times. The Times also reports that billboards with the scrubbed-out names will begin appearing in July, including an animated billboard in Times Square.

The full ramifications of the split is really evident online, especially on Facebook, YouTube and Tumblr. On April 10, Ike posted on Tumblr:

I know it’s hard to believe, but yes – Mike and I split. It is what it is. We just couldn’t agree on stuff anymore. Some call it creative differences? Whatever. The guy is awesome, if you don’t count that he’s color blind. Lime is green dude! Cherry is red, not purple. Get it? Go write some songs since that seems to be where your focus is right now.

Mike shared his side:

Heard about Ike and me splitting up? Yeah, it’s true. We just don’t agree on the candy. My red, his red, my lime, his lime, my box ideas, his box ideas. So over it. Instead of all this hassle, now I’m just gonna jam. Been laying down heat with my friend Blaze. Planning to hit all the music capitals in the next few months. No sitting at home solo playing Words With Friends (that’s something Ike would do).

Looks like some people close to Mike and Ike are taking the news pretty hard. Check out some of the YouTube spots:

“It’s like Kobe and Shaq all over again”:

“They’ll be back together, I know they’ll be back together”:

When I heard the news, I was devastated”:




1. This picture of Chicago Christians who showed up at a gay pride parade to apologize for homophobia in the Church.

This picture of Chicago Christians who showed up at a gay pride parade to apologize for homophobia in the Church.

(Michelle Gantner / Maladjusted Media)

… and the reaction from the parade.

... and the reaction from the parade.

(Michelle Gantner / Maladjusted Media)

2. This story about Japanese senior citizens who volunteered to tackle the nuclear crisis at Fukushima power station so that young people wouldn’t have to subject themselves to radiation.

This story about Japanese senior citizens who volunteered to tackle the nuclear crisis at Fukushima power station so that young people wouldn't have to subject themselves to radiation.
Source: bbc.co.uk

3. This picture of two Norwegian guys rescuing a sheep from the ocean.

This picture of two Norwegian guys rescuing a sheep from the ocean.

4. This sign at an awesome bookshop.

This sign at an awesome bookshop.

5. This poll about what Snooki should name her child.

This poll about what Snooki should name her child.

6. The moment in which this Ohio athlete stopped to help an injured competitor across the finish line during a track meet.

The moment in which this Ohio athlete stopped to help an injured competitor across the finish line during a track meet.

17-year-old Meghan Vogel was in last place in the 3,200-meter run when she caught up to competitor Arden McMath, whose body was giving out. Instead of running past her to avoid the last-place finish, Vogel put McMath’s arm around her shoulders, carried her 30 meters, and then pushed her over the finish line before crossing it.

Image by The Daily Call, Mike Ullery / AP

7. This exchange between a 3-year-old girl and a shopping center.

This exchange between a 3-year-old girl and a shopping center.

8. This note that was handed to a waiter along with a $20 bill by an elderly lady in his restaurant.

This note that was handed to a waiter along with a $20 bill by an elderly lady in his restaurant.

9. This sign at an awesome Subway restaurant.

This sign at an awesome Subway restaurant.

10. This picture of a villager carrying stranded kittens to dry land during floods in Cuttack City, India.

This picture of a villager carrying stranded kittens to dry land during floods in Cuttack City, India.
Image by Biswaranjan Rout / AP
Image by Biswaranjan Rout / AP

11. This sign at an awesome drycleaner’s.

This sign at an awesome drycleaner's.

Plaza Cleaners in Portland, OR, helped over 2,000 unemployed workers who couldn’t afford dry cleaning. The store’s owner estimated that it cost his company $32,000 dollars.

12. This photograph of a man giving his shoes to a homeless girl in Rio de Janeiro.

This photograph of a man giving his shoes to a homeless girl in Rio de Janeiro.

13. This picture of a firefighter administering oxygen to a cat rescued from a house fire.

This picture of a firefighter administering oxygen to a cat rescued from a house fire.

(TOM BAUER/Missoulian)

14. And this one.

And this one.
Image by Chris Butler / AP

15. This interaction between a Guatemalan girl and a tourist she just met.

This interaction between a Guatemalan girl and a tourist she just met.

16. This gesture from a neighbor.

This gesture from a neighbor.

17. These photos of two children collaborating to rescue a dog who had fallen into a ravine.

These photos of two children collaborating to rescue a dog who had fallen into a ravine.

18. This note on a young family’s check.

This note on a young family's check.

19. This exchange between a protester and a soldier during a protest in Brazil.

This exchange between a protester and a soldier during a protest in Brazil.

(Imagens/ TVBA)

20. These pictures of a man jumping into rough waters to rescue a stranger’s Shih Tzu in Melbourne.

These pictures of a man jumping into rough waters to rescue a stranger's Shih Tzu in Melbourne.

Sue Drummond was walking her beloved Shih Tzu, Bibi, on a pier in Melbourne, when a fierce gust of wind picked him up and hurled him into the rough waters of the bay. A passerby, Raden Soemawinata, who happened to be on the pier that day to scatter his grandmother’s ashes, wasted no time in stripping down and diving into the bay to rescue the animal.

(Photos: Chris Scott)

21. And this photograph of two best friends on a swing.

And this photograph of two best friends on a swing.

Now all of my birthday wishes are important and mean alot to me but this one has definitely taken the cake….so far:

Hear ye hear ye!!!

Let it be known across the land that today is one of celebration!!!

24 years ago today the being we have all come to known as Kelvin set out on a quest…

Leaving the only home He had ever known to find out what lay beyond his previous boundaries.
Some say He had no choice…indeed, it was destiny that guided his in this act of bravery.

Many hardships were faced in the journey of escaping the constraints which bound his.

Firstly He had to venture through the cave of no return, wrestling his way through its unforgiving narrow spaces, reaching back only to grab his fedora as Indiana Jones does, before the exit sealed.

Secondly He had to have his only known reliable supply of food, water, and nutrients cut forever.
Lastly He had fend off (to this day) hordes of people pinching his checks and poking his saying “awwww how cute”

For this bravery let us all take a moment to recognize his womb liberation day!!!

Happy Birthday Kelvin

Song of The Day

In honor of the fact that my birthday is tomorrow and the line “…and it’s not even my birthday”. I bring you Birthday Cake by Rihanna ft. Chris Brown. I hope you guys enjoy!

Normally, this kind of thing should be written by someone who has actually had sex on an airplane. But I have never had sex on an airplane, and I have come to the realization that I’m going to be okay. If I find out I have a rare blood disorder that will kill me in four days, I’m not going to sit around wishing I’d bent some woman over the sink 30,000 feet above Halifax. Well, not for more than like five seconds, anyway. Sex in public places is fun. (Like on trains.) But being expected to have sex on a commercial jetliner at some point in your life kind of takes the fun out of it. You’re just coaxing your girlfriend into the lavatory so you don’t feel like a loser the next time someone asks you if you’re in the Mile High Club. It’s one of many stupid things we weakly accept as a metric of manhood. It’s uncomfortable enough to even sit on an airplane, let alone grapple with complex anatomical physics near a vacuum-flush toilet.—Devin Friedman



I know, I know. The prices are great. The vegetables are stunningly fresh—carrots brighter than highway cones, lettuce as crisp as Doritos. I know that a local food co-op is a good community business, one that supports small farmers instead of scary agribusinesses, like the big corporate supermarkets do. But I don’t have to mop the big corporate supermarket. To join my local food co-op, I have to put in a couple of unpaid hours a month, and I don’t want to do it. Not because I’m afraid of hard labor; I just don’t want to become one of those food—co-op people—you know, the folks who know too much about coffee-bean production and get a little righteous about shiitake mushrooms. I’ll stick to the big corporate supermarket, where what I don’t know may, in fact, kill me, but at least I don’t have to punch in.—Jason Gay


I didn’t feel sick exactly, but nervous and spacey, as Damien, the haircut guy, shaved half my head. He sensed my confidence caving and boosted me up, said it would look great. He had a Mohawk, too, so obviously he liked them. “It looks very professional,” he said when he finished.

I walked outside, diaper bag over my shoulder, eating a free lollipop, and pushing the baby in the stroller. I could feel the air dancing on my skull, like a thick layer of cold cream cheese. It was Saturday night on 18th Street, and the sidewalk was packed, and I wanted to get home. I was 41 years old, I had a Mohawk, and I wanted my hair back.

That next morning, walking outside to my car, I couldn’t breathe. I moved frozenly, praying nobody would connect this head with me. My neighbor, a geriatric physician, his all-knowing, all-nosy wife, and their kids pulled up in their van. I went back inside and canceled my adjustment at the chiropractor. I couldn’t do it. Look at me. I’m ridiculous.

It has been a week now, and I’m shaving it off soon. It took me four days just to show the nanny, Blanca, who spends six hours a day in my house. I wore a corduroy ski hat until I couldn’t stand it anymore, and then called out from around the corner, with my head showing, and warned her not to be afraid. She laughed and said I needed an earring, so I figured nobody cared.

I guess there was a time, maybe around 1973, maybe in London, when the Mohawk stood for defiance. My senior year in high school, the toughest jocks on the lacrosse team gave themselves Mohawks, and ever since I’ve thought of it as an act of intensity and testicular showmanship. But in the twenty years since high school, I’ve come to see hairdos like this one as an admission of utter defeat, and I’ve come to hate people who walk around with overt hair or self-mutilation statements; I think, Hey, idiot, try getting attention from some real accomplishment. I’m not looking at you. But maybe the reason I ended up with this on my head is that I feel that defeat, too, a little bit more lately. I’ve had my ups and downs.

I guess in these past six days, walking to the grocery store, watching the faces of old men as I join them in the YMCA Jacuzzi, I’ve gained a greater appreciation for the act of elective self-destruction. Now when I see the heavily tattooed arms of a waiter, I feel a twinge of recognition. It’s a sign, but not of defiance, or of defeat. There’s something about exposing the flanks of your head while the top stays hairy as a way to confess your suffering. Like scars from a real suicide attempt, it’s an admission of desperation and fragility, except that this, thank God, grows out in a few weeks.

And it will be gone soon. But even now, I’ll still forget I have it on my head until I catch my reflection. Then I’ll examine the peach fuzz on the sides and the rooster tail on top, and I’ll smile, the way you smile when you see a homeless person, passed out on the sidewalk, by some chicken bones, in a great Hawaiian shirt.—Matthew Klam




There are tons of neat things about working for drug dealers: You don’t have to pay taxes, you never have to wake up before noon, and you can pretty much wear whatever you want. But I’ve worked for drug dealers, and honestly, most of the time it’s a drag. Though you do little more than wait around while other people talk and talk and talk on the phone, those people on the phone can be kind of uptight. In fact, they’re dicks. The pay’s okay, but it often comes in the form of white powder that disappears in a single, fuzzy twenty-four-hour period. And while it made me feel like a badass, I’m not really sure I’d recommend it. The thrill is short-lived, and all you’re left with is the pathetic little story about the time you were young and stupid enough to fly with a brick of coke in your carry-on. And do you really want to be the guy who’s still telling that story when he’s 53?—Alden Gunn



Small-wave surfing’s fun, too.




Irony has its limits. And when irony takes the form of bushy hair that grows on your upper lip, it can become quite a nuisance. It’s not the maintenance so much—the brushing and the trimming and having to carefully shave around it. It’s the sight of your hairy, stupid self in the bathroom mirror every morning. (Do you know what it’s like waking up with a hangover and a mustache?) There’s also the shame you feel when you see an old girlfriend or colleague. And the persistent urge you feel to inform every new person that you meet that, hey, you know, the mustache—it’s really just a goof. A lark. Zany, right? After a few weeks, it isn’t the mustache that you loathe, it’s just you. Silly, vain, unfuckable you. But irony, in this particular form, can do more than inspire deep self-hatred. Sometimes it can stink—like six hours after you’ve eaten some organic yogurt or slurped a half-dozen Malpeques. And the beauty part is, you’re the only one who has to smell it.—Mark Healy

Kids will change your life. But what if you don’t want your life changed? What if you like having the freedom to, say, jet to South Beach for the weekend? Which would be great, of course, but it would mean you’d have to skip that dinner party and pass on the chance to spend the evening with four other parent-age couples as they go on and on and on about nannies, and school districts, and poopie!, and how last night one father slept only two hours (seriously, dude, two hours!) because little Max had the worst ear infection. Is it selfish not to bring another child into the world, care for him, and give him a quality life? Maybe. But there are plenty of charitable things you can do with your time. And I imagine Marc Jacobs will get by without selling one more $200 cashmere toddler sweater.—Reid Bixler

My fiancée and I were in Australia, and she wanted to “swim with sharks.” I, of course, said hell no. Jews don’t swim with sharks. She begged and pleaded and obliquely questioned my masculinity, so I relented. But we didn’t do it the way she wanted to—which was in a shark cage in the open ocean. We did it my way, in a shark tank up on land. I figured I’d rather they be captive in my world than the other way around. And the sharks weren’t the kind with scary names like great white or hammerhead. No, these sharks were nurse sharks. And that’s because they might as well wear little white skirts to work. They don’t eat people. In fact, they were completely nonchalant. So, after our jaunt with the nurses didn’t quite ignite my ex, she decided she wanted the great whites in the open ocean. She actually said, “Isn’t that something you want to do before you die?” I answered, “The list of things I have to do before I die doesn’t include things that might actually precipitate my death.” So I called off the wedding.—Michael Seitzman

So you want to join the classy, classy ranks of people like Tommy Lee, Paris Hilton, and Colin Farrell? Hold up. Did you ever stare at a television and blurt out, “Why would the Nazis film their atrocities?” Or “Why didn’t Nixon just burn those tapes?” Do you see a pattern here?

You’re probably thinking that the production values will be, at worst, like third-rate porn. Wrong. Your videotape will have no zooms, no pans, and no movement whatsoever. Have you ever been turned on by a convenience-store surveillance video? Because that’s what you’re working on. You’re working on one of those, and you’re nude.

If that’s not reason enough, there’s the Discussion. It goes a little like this:

“I think I should keep the tape, because I’ll be more careful with it.”

“You? I’m more reliable!”

“Why is this even an issue? Are you planning on us not being together in the future? I want to break up.”

As for the nuclear option—showing such a tape to anyone else or releasing it into the permanent indictment that is the Internet—just put that out of your mind. Really, you might as well drive to her workplace, shoot her and everyone else you see, then take your own life. Actually, it’s my long-held theory that amateur sex videos are the direct cause of most office murders, but the FBI has ignored me for many years on this score, and shame on them. Though I guess that’s a story for another day.

(Special to Wendy H.: I destroyed that tape. I totally did.)—Marshall Sella


The Pacific Coast highway? Beautiful. And clogged with douche bags in rented Mustang convertibles. The Blue Ridge Parkway is a parking lot in the summer. And then there’s that old travel-magazine staple: the Mississippi Delta. Southern delicacies! Authentic juke joints! Binge drinkers in Duke hats eating $45 crawfish! Just like Robert Johnson did.—Josh Dean


It’s supposed to be pretty amazing to finish a marathon—once the nausea and chills are gone and the blood has stopped leaking from various orifices. And to those who do it, we say: Bravo. But a man should not consider himself deficient just because he’s never run 26.2 miles on the same day. Obsessed people are meant to run marathons; the rest of us are meant to run for a half hour and drink a light beer. And not only does training for a long-distance race overtake your life, but it also may benefit you less than simply hitting a treadmill a few times a week would. So the next time you feel guilty, recite these facts:

• Jim Fixx, the author of The Complete Book of Running, who did more than anyone else to popularize jogging in America, died at 52, in midstride, of a massive heart attack.

• Of 488 runners studied at the 2002 Boston Marathon, 13 percent developed hyponatremia, a potentially fatal condition caused by drinking too much water.

• To quote the Harvard Health Letter, “Long distance running can cause gastrointestinal bleeding.” That’s not to mention the bleeding nipples.—Nate Penn



Or any other testicles, really.

You always say you want to ride across a country on your chopper before it’s all over, preferably a really romantic kind of place, maybe Vietnam, possibly Cuba, definitely someplace that used to have a politburo. But before you fasten your leather helmet’s chin strap, consider the following question. Have you ever ridden your bike on anything but nice, smooth, First World blacktop? Because in, say, Cuba, the roads will leave you bruised and battered. You will go days without an Arby’s or even a Cracker Barrel. On a good day, you’ll perhaps get to poop over a hole in the floor of a shack. I once drove across much of Russia, and it was horrible—exciting and sort of thrilling in its peril, yes, but even in a country with abundant concrete and toilets that flush, the journey was harrowing, and nearly fatal to my vehicle. And that was an SUV.—Josh Dean


Every girlfriend I’ve ever had has the same two complaints about me: I’m not totally in touch with my feelings, and I can’t drive a stick shift. I’m still working on the former, but I’m giving up on the latter. Because, seriously: Who cares? People tell you that a manual transmission makes you feel more in control of the car, more “at one” with the machine. I’m sure that’s a neat sensation in a Bugatti. But I don’t need to be more “at one” with a piece-of-shit Subaru. Not knowing how to drive a stick shift is one of those things that seem like a big deal when you’re young but turn out to be pretty meaningless when you’re older. Like trigonometry or Christmas.—Jason Gay

31. BLOG.
Your audience at the company cafeteria is bigger than what you’ll have on the Internet.

The hahnenkamm’s streif, the infamous Austrian downhill ski run, opens with a forty-five-degree fall and features a life-threatening 180-degree turn. Even snow-grooming machines can’t traverse its angles. Oh, and the maintenance crews spray the whole mountain down with cold water, turning it into a giant luge. It’s the ski run perhaps most famous for its tendency to nearly kill people. And that makes it really attractive to more than a few ding-dongs out to prove their willingness to be killed.—Mickey Rapkin

Everyday you drag your ass to work in your monkey suit and get served up a big, steaming pile of humiliation by your boss. And what do you do? You eat it. It’s like The Matrix, man! It’s like you’re a zombie, an automaton with the psycho-emotional breadth of Keanu Reeves! And that ain’t you, man! You’re a free spirit! You know everything would change if you could just tell the boss to fuck off. And sure, there may be some truth to that. Especially if your job is marketing cigarettes to teenagers. But for most people, quitting sets you free for five or six days max. Then you’re like: What happens if I get a cavity? Or: Hey, I like flat-screen TVs. Just remember how much you enjoy talking shit about your coworkers. And fantasizing about quitting. Why would you give that up?—Devin Friedman




A couple of things occurred to me in fairly quick succession as I was changing a light fixture in my kitchen, taking down this extraordinarily ugly fake Tiffany stained-glass hanging shade the size of an SUV tire and putting in its place a little $20 track-lighting job from Ikea. I was standing on a stool, one whose seat spun around, balancing the very heavy fruit shade on one outstretched arm and reaching up with the other to disconnect the knot of wires exploding out of the ceiling.

Here’s what occurred to me: (1) I’d forgotten to turn the power off at the fuse box down in my basement. (2) I had no idea which wires were hot. (3) My wife and kids were out and wouldn’t be back anytime soon. (4) It was impossible to get off the spinning stool without either falling or dropping the monstrous fruit shade, which would shatter all over the kitchen floor, or both.

So I stood there on top of a spinning bar stool, holding a thirty-pound lampshade and staring up into the maw in my ceiling long enough for my legs and lower back to cramp and for me to make a plan that when the time came, I would toss the fake Tiffany fruit shade forward and leap backward so that while I broke some bones, at least I wouldn’t also get impaled by a shard of stained glass.

Eventually, my wife came home, and I called an electrician.

You read about people who don’t know jack about home repair taking on a renovation by themselves, and there’s always some lesson about how with each humbling experience they learn something they didn’t know before about who they are and how they connected to their home in some profound ways that men in the modern world have lost touch with.

It’s all a load of crap. I’m not joking when I say that things with the fruit lamp could’ve gotten very ugly very quickly. Multiply that little scenario by a jillion and you have a rough idea of what it’s like to actually renovate your own place.

If you’re anything like me, accept that there are skills you’re just never going to have. So you’re good with books or computers or numbers but not with tools? Stay away from the tools. The man you think is lurking inside of you, waiting for some belt sander to reveal him to the world, he’s full of shit, and chances are he’ll end up in the ER. Or living in a really crappily renovated home, wishing he hadn’t been such a macho-romantic jackass.—Joel Lovell






Sometimes it’s the fate of a good writer to bear the blame for what he inspires a bunch of idiots to do. Hunter S. Thompson is on the hook for a generation convinced it’s charming to be a drug-addicted asshole. Jack Kerouac spawned a million annoying vagabonds. And then, of course, there’s Ernest Hemingway, who has to answer not only for reams of bad, muscular prose but also for turning the San Fermín festival, celebrated in the town of Pamplona, Spain, into a three-minute institutionalized rite of passage, offering a frisson of real danger to the proceedings without being automatically fatal. It’s worth remembering, though, that courting death is not, ipso facto, cool. If there were a contest in Toledo where you drank a bottle of Drano and saw what happened, would you be proud to tell stories about it over dinner?—Brett Martin

people always say you have to ride a horse bareback, on a beach, with your long hair flowing behind you, naked, before you die. But you don’t have to do that. I would say that there’s a whole category of stuff you shouldn’t do naked, and riding a horse is at the top of the list.

If you’re a man, you shouldn’t even walk around naked. If you’re a woman, fine, although for women who think men are whiners, try having your tits attached to your pussy and have them swinging between your legs. Walking naked for a man is tricky enough, depending on how low his balls hang. Jogging naked can give you a headache very quickly. Jogging is to horseback riding as ice-skating is to ice hockey.

Maybe you admire horses. Horses are fine to sit on while they stand still. But as soon as that horse starts stepping forward, you’re like, “Maybe it’s the pants. My ass hurts. I’m getting pinched nuts.” Now imagine no shiny padded-leather saddle. No stirrups to help you lift your balls up when the horse bounces. Because as soon as you get out of the walk, into the trot, the canter, the gallop, you’d better know what you’re doing, and even if you do, you don’t want to do it with your hair flowing behind you, freely blowing in the seaborne air.—Matthew Klam

If you end up doing it, please don’t talk to us about it for more than ten minutes.



I once spent a week in Pompeii, and I don’t remember a single fresco. Or the mosaic of Alexander’s conquest over Darius in the House of Faun. This is what I mostly remember about Pompeii: dogs. Big, stray dogs. Everywhere. With overgrown coats and gnarly premolars. I also remember the transvestite hookers who humped wildly in cars parked in my hotel’s lot. Which to me isn’t something a man needs to see before he dies.—Greg Veis

There are great works of art, and then there are the “Things to Do” masterpieces—those works of art so mired in their own fame they’re more like a Brad Pitt sighting than a cultural experience. The Mona Lisa. The Last Supper.Monet, that prominent freshman-dorm-room decorator. And it’s perhaps David—available in paperweight, refrigerator magnet, or boxer-shorts form—that is the worst offender. Seeing him in person won’t change your life. You won’t immediately toss your BlackBerry in the Arno, and dedicate your life to aesthetic pursuits. Here’s what will happen: You’ll wait in line for three hours (there’s no EZ Pass for culture, my friend) with pretentious Boston College art-history majors. And then the moment of truth: You stand in front of the seventeen-foot-tall David wondering, What does everyone else get that I don’t? The answer for most of those people is: nothing. They’re just here because that’s what you’re supposed to do in Florence. Maybe it’d be different if you weren’t expecting so much, but we’ll never know.—Danielle Pergament

Just take the Chunnel train. It’s fast and dark and a little scary. And you can eat good sandwiches and drink wine while you do it.

I can’t be trusted. Not everything I say—even to my wife or my kids—is true. Which is just another way of saying that I lie. I don’t feel bad about this, really, and you shouldn’t, either. (Because you lie, too.) The wee, harmless fib—I’m not talking here about matters of life, death, or infidelity—is an elemental part of human interaction. It allows you to show (feigned) interest, to (falsely) flatter, to express (disingenuous) gratitude—all of which are not only necessary but good. Without these kinds of lies, we’d never leave the house. Life would feel unsafe, grim, a little too realistic. If I give someone a birthday present, for example, and that person doesn’t like it, I’d much prefer that he’d smile and keep that shit to himself. It’s the people who won’t or can’t bring themselves to lie that you really have to watch out for. Ever had a friend who—in the thrall of recovery, sudden religiosity, or a New Year’s resolution gone haywire—announces that he will, from this day forward, refrain from ever lying again? And have you also noticed how insufferable that person then becomes in the month or two—about as long as these things tend to last—that he devotes himself to Truth? Taking the white lie off the table doesn’t always make you more noble or pure; sometimes it makes you the biggest asshole at the party.—Andy Ward


Read More http://www.gq.com/entertainment/humor/200609/50-things-not-to-do-before-you-die-bucket-list#ixzz1wNN4NM3I

Man Crush of the Day

I want to Marry this man! I have him as the background on my computer. My straight guy best friend found him and thought I would be in love. He was so rite!!!  He is to die for!!!

(www.mancrushblog.com) This week I’ve looked toward Ireland for my usual athlete crush and whattaya know, I found a hot one! It’s Tommy Bowe who plays wing for the Ospreys, Ireland and the Lions. He announced that for the 2012-13 season he’ll be playing for Ulster. Ok, now, that’s about all I care to get into sports wise. Can we just objectify him? Those legs! I mean good Lord, they are glorious. He also has an awesome build overall that makes me melt in my chair. Check out this video featuring Tommy speaking about the 2011 World Cup for a taste of his sexy accent and him rocking some scruff.


By Adam M

I think I safely speak for most guys when I say that a girl who listens to David Blowie is a girl you wanna keep around, if you know what I mean. However, just because a girl is willing to blow you doesn’t mean you’re home free. Fact of the matter is that the only thing worse than a girl who “doesn’t do blowjobs” is a girl who does but has no fucking idea what she’s doing. Look: if I wanted to waste a half hour of my life and feel completely unsatisfied, I’d watchRidiculousness on MTV. Simply put, ladies, there are a few simple things to keep in your head while you’re giving head. [lead image via mangostock / Shutterstock]

  1. Check your teeth at the door. There’s no worse feeling than a girl raking her chompers up and down your shaft. Maybe jerking off with sandpaper would be worse, but seriously: don’t bite my dick. Don’t drag your teeth along it. It’s not hot. It’s not sexy. Stop it. No.
  2. There’s more than just the tip to work with, so don’t get distracted.  Now I’m not saying to go all Heather Brooke, if you’re not capable of that. (If you don’t know Heather Brooke, google her. It’s impressive.). But working only on the top floor means you’re neglecting a large portion of the building that needs just as much attention paid to it. Wash the sides, start at the bottom, and work your way up to the penthouse. I promise all that work will be appreciated.
  3. It’s not soccer: hands are allowed. I think the most underutilized tool in a girl’s BJ arsenal is her hands. I understand not every girl can turn off their gag reflex, so if you can’t take all I’m working with, then I have no problem with you using a hand or two while down there. Granted, make sure it’s sufficiently wet before this happens, or else you’ll be bringing us back to the bad old days of what we call Dry Hand Hell. If a girl can multitask when it comes to the hand and mouth working in unison, then that leads to a mindblowing blow.
  4. Punch your own weight class: don’t porn it out if you’re not down with that. Everyone has a part of them that wants a sloppy, porn-esque beej at least once in their lif. If anyone says otherwise, they’re either lying or religious. With that said, the last thing I want is a girl to be doing something she’s not comfortable with when it comes to my unit. If you can’t take it down your throat, don’t try and force yourself because you think it will be hot. A big attempt might be hot for a second,but that’s undone with you almost throwing up on me. And if that happens, there could be tears. Then it gets all weird and the guy immediately feels bad and the night ends awkwardly. There’s a reason there are weight classes in boxing: so people don’t get in over their heads. Don’t get in over yours while giving head.
  5. Don’t know if something is working for me? Ask. Seriously. “Do you like that?” doesn’t just have to be sexy talk. If something’s not working for me, I’ll let you know as long as you take the suggestions. Think of it like you’re playing jazz: you have the start and you have the end of the song planned out. In the middle, you play off the other people, adjust on the fly, and see where it takes you. Play it by ear, and you’re sure to make sweet music with your partner.

Trust me on this, women: follow these tips (but not just the tip) and you’ll have your guy’s full…attention. Maybe he’ll even return the favor.

Until next time, party so hard you get deported from Ireland with your former Italian roommate, a Brit, and a sexy blonde Canadian wingwoman.

Facts and Chicks

Yes it’s back! Facts and Chicks!!!! The reason it hasn’t appeared in so long is that it became extremely time consuming to do. I mean i have to look at the website (factsandchicks.com), post them here, and think of funny comments. I mean that can be way to much for this boy to handle, but whenever I have some random time inbetween studies I’ll do a Facts and Chick for my straight guy friends. I mean it’s the least I can do since they put up with Man Crush of the Day!

It’s cause their blood has traveled to their hair!

My question, of course, is how big is his dick?

Glad I didn’t start smoking pot until my brain was completely developed!

Damn vikings!

Now man up and giggle! It’s good for your health!

So men with one testicle want to take over the world you say? Everybody start watching Lance Armstrong!

Okay this may be true widespread, but as the oldest of 4 with 2 vagina-loving baby brothers, I am going to have to say lie!

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