Poolboys and Penguins (plebeian edition)
"No, no. Not me, friends, he's talking bout himself, but thanks for looking!
Hi team. It’s good to see so many of you joining us on this fine Thursday. Today’s program will feature a little something for everyone. Since the last entry was kind of a downer, or at least focused on negativity, this time, I’m gonna swing the old pendulum back the other way and go for stuff I like. I’m tempted to call this “objectively good” shit, because I live in a universe completely dictated by my own taste, but I’m aware that some of you live in your own universes under the dictates of your own tastes, and therefore won’t think these things are the best. You’re of course entitled to that opinion, wrong though you may be.
This is gonna be one of those ones that everyone can read the beginning of, but to get to the end you have to subscribe. If you like what you read, consider subscribing. It’s cheap as shit and it directly supports artists very much like me.
Thanks, y’all. Okay, let’s get started. Some things I like:
Specifically the idea of being a poolboy seems like it would be pretty great. There are a lot of jobs that guys in porn have, but the reality of being a plumber or a pizza delivery guy kind of outweighs the fantasy aspect of those vocations. In fact, I’ve seen some plumbers and some pizza guys in my time and none of them, literally none of them look like they’re living any sort of dream. However, poolboy maybe is a little different.
Now, I’m not blind to the reality of the west’s economic caste system or anything and I’m sure poolboy isn’t all bored horny housewives and fetching pina coladas, but...nah, it kinda seems like maybe it is. There’s a big difference between being a poolboy and a poolguy. The pool guy is some leathery beef jerky looking rube with a few less teeth than he’s supposed to have and burnt white-blonde hair dangling out of the back of his weird tiny little aquamarine baseball hat. He wears Oakley blades. He smells like...not cigarettes, but like a car someone smokes in. He checks the PH and fishes the dead bats out of the drains n shit, and his job is crucial to your pool happiness, but it’s not poolboy crucial.
“Oh poolboy!” you may cry, “my chardonnay has gotten warm,” and I, wrapped in nothing but a sarong, will come running over to replace it with a frosty new goblet. You and your friends will giggle and then I’ll go back to making sure the tiki hut is ready for the big party later. That sounds okay to me. I think the idea of being a poolboy is better than actually being a poolboy, but hey, what the fuck do I know? Jerry Falwell Jr gave his poolboy millions of dollars to open some kind of weird ‘hostel’ thing...and I’m sure it’s just because he was an industrious young poolboy and no weird shenanigans were afoot at all. I’m sure of it. Yup. The poolboy life, she is the life for me.
These are the best animal in the world. They’re amazing. If you doubt me, consider that god made a bird, did not allow it to fly, put them in a place with no trees, made it so they are all shaped like upside down lightbulbs, gave them no knees thereby forcing them to waddle everywhere and then fucking DRESSED THEM IN TUXEDOS just to be a total bitch. All groups of penguins look like an adorable version of every single lecherous Oscar after party where pervert power brokers are milling around just trying to fuck the poolboy. Penguins are great.
The other animal I really like is the narwhal, which, I guess I’m really into polar aquatic creatures, eh? But they’re kind of a dolphin, and fully a whale AND THEY’RE ALSO A UNICORN! That’s a fairly dope combination. That’s like if you’re like “yeah, my dad is Stokley Carmichael and my mom is Debbie Harry and also I’m a member of Roberto Bolano’s Visceral Realists.” Narwhals are pretty kickass, man. Speaking of animals:
Women Who Have An Animal
You know how, for example, your aunt just loves anything with a pig on it, so every year on her birthday she gets a little wall mounted coat hook thing that’s got a bunch of pigs carved in relief on it and a serving tray that looks like a big pig resting in a basket and on and on like this? It’s sweet. It’s an adorable way for her to ignore that her childbearing years are passing her by and Uncle Doug is never coming back.
I don’t know why, but in my experience, this is such an exclusively female phenomenon. I’ve never met a dude who is like “yup. Anything with goats on it, don’t even worry, man, I just know I’m gonna love it. Just a big ol’ fan of goats.” I am sure this exists, but I know several pig, sheep, bunny, cow, and pony ladies. I mean, I just went off on how much I love penguins and if someone gave me some tongs that looked like a penguin I’d be like “ah, right. Thanks. Uh…” and then I’d set the tongs down, wait til they left and I’d make fun of them relentlessly for being such weirdos. I would use the shit out of those tongs though, if I’m being honest.
Folded up chips
You know when you’re fucking with a bag of chips and you get that one that got caught in the wrong place at the wrong time when frying time came? It’s all folded up on itself, sometimes it’s an orgy of several chips all twisted up in each other like something out of eyes wide shut if it was about chips? Are those motherfuckers not the BEST? I mean, I’m no big city industrial food manufacturer, but make the whole fucking bag out of those shits, man! That’s a pot of gold just waiting for these chip magnates. I gotta do everything around here. Sheesh.
Finding lost drugs
Come on. Is there a better feeling than finding drugs that you misplaced days, weeks, months, YEARS ago? I mean...It’s great on several levels:
You suddenly can release that tiny portion of your brain that’s been kicking you in the ass for losing the drugs for all these many moons
Your whole day just got more interesting because:
You just got a windfall of drugs and you didn’t even have to call the guy
Man. Alive. It’s like that scene in pulp fiction where Vince is talking about the guy that keyed his car and how it would be almost worth him doing it if he could have caught him doing it. Finding drugs is better than that. It’s TOTALLY worth losing your drugs to find them later. As long as you’re not about to go through security at the airport or something when you find them. That would be bad.
The end of the burrito when it’s that knot of flavor and tortilla
I know this isn’t everyone’s favorite bite. It’s not like penguins being awesome (which is inarguable), but this is my favorite bite of the burrito. If the burrito is worth a shit, some cheese and grease and avocado and sour cream and some beans are down there just completely soul melded with that little tortilla knot due to it all trying to flee from your gaping and terrifying maw as you mow down the less fortunate ingredients that came before them, and yo. That last bite is the BEST. Much like the chips, someone should make the whole burrito out of the last bite. Although (and I’d be an idiot not to say this aloud), of course this can never be so, because what makes the orgy chip and the burrito end so special is that they’re singular. If every squirrel shat gold, there would be nothing special about gold, lo mein?
when someone is yelling at me about how I fucked up and not only is it not my fault, it’s actually THEIR fault!
This shit is, to borrow a phrase, sweeter than a mango. Things like this happen all the time. You do what you’re supposed to do, only some shit goes wrong and someone comes in and just throws your ass under the bus, but then it turns out that, HOLY SHIT, the stakes WERE driven into the ground properly and the reason the circus tent flew away is ACTUALLY because YOU, the person yelling at me, skimped and bought cheap ass rope. If you manage to keep your cool, you look like the dopest shit shoveler on the whole circus train, while homeboy becomes a sweaty chud in the eyes of the clowns.
Moving on to a potentially more relatable situation: “Yeah, you’re right, Glen. Those girls probably DID walk away because I accidentally called one of em ‘mommy’ (BY MISTAKE!)” But what’s this? The girls are back! And they’re saying they’re sorry they didn’t hang out but Glen was giving off creepy vibes! Oh, sweet, sweet jesus this is a good feeling. It KIND of veers a little bit into mean spirited, KIND OF, but ultimately, if someone wasn’t trying to stand on your neck so they could keep their own head above water, this shit wouldn’t happen at all. I don’t delight when someone I like fucks up. Hell, I don’t even usually love it when someone I don’t like fucks up, but when they motherfuck you and then the bloody glove is in their purse the whole time...that’s shit you’re gonna want to tell your grandchildren about.
Okay, freeloaders, this is where I leave you. From here on, it’s VIP access only. If you’d like to subscribe, please do so you can read on. The rest of this article is all naked pictures of my famous buddies, so you’re REALLY missing out. However, it’s your life and your money.
Thanks for reading!