Tuesday, April 12, 2016

I'm an Unemployed Male Bra-Fitter.

   

     In fact, I’ve never had a job in my chosen career.  Talk about discrimination—you should see the dirty looks I get just asking for a job application.
     You probably think I’m joking—a husky guy with a Paul Bunyan beard in this line of work.  That’s why I haven’t told anyone except my wife.  But, I’m a laid-off timber-cutter with a family and a mortgage to pay and I’m nothing if not a survivor—especially in this crazy economy.
     I got the idea for this bra-fitting thing after watching my wife struggle with a new one a few weeks back.  It didn’t fit right.  That’s when I learned how terrible some bra fitters can be, costing innocent female consumers millions a year in nonreturnable merchandise...
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Eyeing the Flash: The Making of a Carnival Con Artist, by Peter Fenton

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     ...A light bulb went off in my head.  Why didn’t I give bra-fitting a shot?  After all, I’ve always been real good with my hands.  The pay is decent and you’re not behind a desk.  The perfect gig for a self-starter like me.
     My wife was skeptical at first, but became quietly accepting as she noted how quickly I caught on.  (I owe everything to that gutsy lady.  She even taught me the basic bra-fitter spiel:  “Make sure you’re all in the cup!  Now bend over and shake.)
     You’d think the industry would’ve jumped all over somebody as promotable as me—a self-taught bra-fitter.  The publicity possibilities are enormous.  I can just see me on the talk-show circuit.  You know, I could do a live fitting on a supermodel; or if producers were looking for guffaws, I could fit Jay Leno or Jon Stewart in drag.
     As things snowballed—as I believe they would!—my own line of bras would be a natural.  For example, the tag would have a drawing of me with my beard, like the logo sports teams use on their own apparel.  The college girls would love it!  I’ve got a whole portfolio of ideas, each one better than the last.
     Instead, I’m treated like some sort of pariah.  Phone messages aren’t returned, letters aren’t answered, online resumes don’t get a bite.  And that’s the thanks I get for trying to be a pioneer.  I find solace in the belief that ten years from now, if even one male breaks into the biz, it’ll be because of my efforts.
     I’m probably the only guy I know who goes to a topless bar and imagines how good the dancer would look in a lacy strapless.  I can’t even look at a woman without instantly sizing her up:  34D, 36C, 34A, and so on.  I know I’m right, but how do you ask?
     One day it’s going to happen for me.  Until then, I hone my skills and wait.

     Try that on for size, America!

Tuesday, March 29, 2016

Trump to Name Judge Judy, Three Others to Supreme Court.

    In an exclusive interview, a Trump 2016 insider offered a peek at candidates he's considering for the Supreme Court--and reality show superstar Judge Judy tops the list!
    
    Said the insider, "While I am not authorized to speak on behalf of the Trump campaign, it is believed that Judge Judy is a shoo-in for the highest court in the land.

     "Is she a liberal? A conservative? Who knows? But she does not hesitate to voice her opinion--and that is a quality Mr. Trump values above all else. I, for one, cannot wait to see Judge Judy give a verbal dressing down to the stuffy lawyers who believe they've hit the big time because they're arguing a case in front of the Supreme Court.

     "On top of that, she already owns a gown, saving taxpayers money."
   
    According to the source, who asked to remain anonymous for fear of reprisal, three other reality show stars will be given the nod:  
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Eyeing the Flash: The Making of a Carnival Con Artist, by Peter Fenton

"A cross between Ferris Bueller and William S. Burroughs...A hilarious, twisted coming-of-age story." --New York Times

                              10th Anniversary Edition!
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    1. Gwen Stefani works well under pressure, having made many, many difficult decisions on The Voice. She's hot. Looks great in black. End of story. Sexy women have for too long been underrepresented on the Supreme Court.

    2. Blake Shelton. Unfortunately, Blake and Gwen are a sort of package deal. But if the lovebirds break-up, the Nashville warbler is out!

     3. Pharrell Williams. Any guy talented enough to write "Don't Worry, Be Happy!" is an automatic shoo-in. The Supreme Court should be a happy place! Plus, he can mediate any disputes between Blake and Gwen. And he's got that ethnic deal covered.

     According to the source, two other candidates were given careful consideration and then dropped:

     Sarah Palin: She'll get the experience she needs if her judge show pilot is picked up for a full season run.
     
     J.Lo: Isn't she from Puerto Rico or something like that? Sorry, no foreigners allowed! After ten years of a Kenyan in the White House, the American people have had enough!

reporting by My Urban Fantasy

     

   

Monday, March 28, 2016

Arrogant NBA Star Asks Coed to Autograph His Box of Condoms



      I made a mistake the other day after attending a professional basketball game in an East Coast city I’m not going to name.  I went to the game with a girlfriend who likes sports—for the sexy athletes, mostly.
      
     To make a long story short, after the final buzzer, my friend slipped past security and headed for the visiting team’s locker room, with me tagging reluctantly along...
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      Eyeing the Flash: The Making of a Carnival Con Artist
                                       by Peter Fenton
                              

      New York Times: "A cross between Ferris Bueller and William S. Burroughs...A hilarious, twisted coming-of-age story."
                                 10th Anniversary Edition
                                  
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    ...Frankly, I’m a college sophomore majoring in Physics and could care less about the N.B.A. and even less about the players.  But one thing led to another and before I knew it, I was in a luxurious hotel suite with a handsome point guard (whatever that is).
     
    We drank Champagne, listened to music, drank more Champagne and soon wound up in a king-size bed.
     
    I have no one else to blame but me for being too adventurous.  But what really hurts is that after we made love, this point guard handed me a felt pen and the box of condoms that was laying on the night stand—and asked me to autograph it!
     
    That’s right.  He asked me to sign a box of Trojans that was already covered with a dozen other girls’ autographs.

    
    I felt so humiliated I ran out of the room before I could even ask him for taxi fare.

Wednesday, March 16, 2016

Congress to Downsize U.S. to 45 States.

     A cost-cutting proposal making the rounds of Capitol Hill downsizes the U.s. to 45 states.
     While there is widespread agreement that the step should be taken, party-line divisions threaten to scuttle the program even before Congress votes.
     Republicans want to delete New York, California, Vermont, Oregon and Massachusetts.
     Democrats prefer to eliminate Utah, Alaska, Arizona, Mississippi and--in a surprise move--Wisconsin.
     What states would YOU wipe off the map?

     Sponsored by Eyeing the Flash: The Making of a Carnival Con Artist, by Peter Fenton.

Sunday, February 7, 2016

Blood Money: How to Get It

       If you’re thinking about selling your kidney, private parts or a slice of your liver to make easy money, here’s a better idea: You can earn quick cash for beer, a fill up, or even chocolates for mom at a blood plasma center. You heard right—cash, not a check or credit to your account. Because blood plasma centers are run by righteous folks dedicating to providing their clients with instant funds for subsequent activities of their own choosing. Once you’re out the door, the money is yours and so is temporary financial freedom, although your blood sugar levels may be low for 24 to 48 hours. So buy a Dove Bar. You’ll have the dough.


                                   
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     Finding a place to “donate” blood plasma isn’t hard; in fact, it’s a booming business. Blood plasma centers have popped up across the country in recent years to meet demand for their life-saving products. There’s most likely a facility located near a college campus in your town, because, to coin an industry slogan, “Student Plasma Is Welcome!”  Yes, the universe of acceptable donors extends beyond selfless leprechauns who sprout like mushrooms in the shade of train trestles. 
     By the way, even if you’ve managed to acquire a college degree and you’ve graduated into the “real” world, friendly blood center staffers will still be delighted to stick a needle in your arm.  (And, although many of the materials put out by the industry are aimed at college students, they are equally applicable to any greedy bastard.)
     Such is the importance of a youthful population, educated or not, to the country’s blood supply that academic papers are even published on the subject.  One example, in Volume 19, number 2 of Sociological Spectrum, confirms the predominance of young donors.  According to the abstract of “Selling Blood: Characteristics and Motivations of Student Plasma Donors,” 10 percent of surveyed U.S. university students report selling plasma.
     In an eye-opening passage, the researchers conclude that “…paid student plasma donors tended to be predominantly male and from higher income families and to have higher rates of employment while in school. They also exhibited greater rates of alcohol consumption and cigarette smoking. Unlike non-remunerated Red Cross donors, (these) plasma donors do not feel a strong identification with the altruistic aspects of the blood donor role. Rather, they are motivated to continue donating in order to secure an easy source of pocket money, which they tend to spend freely, especially on social drinking in student bars.”  Amazing, isn’t it?  The authors are describing you. Or maybe your best buddy.
     However, even if you don’t fit the typical profile, giving the gift of plasma can be a savvy move to make. Although upright citizens may consider it an undignified way to turn a buck, donors receive $20 to $40 per visit and are allowed to make two donations a week. When you surprise your lady with a stunning bouquet of roses, how’s she going to know you bought it with cash earned by your very own blood platelets?
     Another option: Tell your significant other the truth. Talk up how good giving plasma made you feel. That allowing a nurse to insert the needle in her vein would be an altruistic act she, too, would never forget. Convince her to wear that sequined tube top you like so she won’t even need to roll up a sleeve!  Then—quick—before your girl gets cold feet, swing by the center. Within a half hour she’ll have made her donation and you’ll have enough cash for a gourmet pizza before hitting the clubs.  Plus a truckload of brownie points for showing what a caring guy you are.
     Need more convincing? Here’s a touching testimonial from a guy named Phil at BloodBanker.com: “I was a young starving college student once and got involved with these plasma donation centers. It was a great way for me to get a handle on my bills without much effort, also I learned about how blood helps people and cord blood banking as well. I would do homework, read magazines…even watch TV while having the economic resources for school supplies, or a sub sandwich.
    Plus, you’ll broaden your horizons and meet interesting people, like: 
·        Lefty: So-named because of the missing nostril melted down by cocaine.
·        Rafael: Devised groundbreaking formula:  two pints plasma = one pint cheap vodka.
·        Sex Machine: Groans in ecstasy when nurse inserts needle.
·        Dr. Rockit: Old school break dancer; head permanently cocked to the right.
     Your fellow donors may even invite you to share a communal beer in the alley!
      Footnote number 1: A sign at an Oregon clinic warns that men may not donate if they’ve had sex with another male after 1977.
     Footnote number 2: According to the Southern Illinois University student newspaper, a local ghost researcher suspects that the basement beneath a plasma center in downtown Carbondale may be haunted.  Consider yourself warned.

Tuesday, January 19, 2016

Top 5 Worst Oscar-Winning Songs

With so much crap to choose from, compiling a list of the five worst Oscar-winning songs ever was insanely difficult. Nevertheless, here are our choices from the bottomless cesspool of movie music:

5. Chim Chim Cheree from Mary Poppins, 1964--Even an umbrella couldn't stop Julie Andrews' descent from the peak of Sound Of Music and The Hills are Alive with Music.

4. We Belong Together from Toy Story 3, 2010--I dare you to hum this one. Or even remember it.

3. Al Otro Lado del Rio from Motorcycle Diaries, 2004--a movie about Che Guevara's greatest hits, sung by Fidel Castro

2. You Light Up My Life from You Light Up My Life, 1977--Uplifting tune written by a guy who was later indicted on 91 counts of rape, sexual assault and other uplifting stuff like that.

1. It's Hard Out Here For A Pimp from Hustle & Flow, 2005--Oscar music's all time low point. The title alone says it all.

My Urban Fantasy

Thursday, December 31, 2015

If I Was A Slob, Would You Date Me?

     Attention ladies!
     I’m 5’9” and 235 pounds of pure fat. I have a 4-day growth of beard that’ll rub your cheeks raw. Even the black, curly hairs on my shoulders need a good trim. I bathe once a week and call my mom every night, after which I prefer being alone with my thoughts for two hours. I wear the same Chuck Norris t-shirt and khakis I sleep in and own every DVD Adam Sandler ever made. My favorite sports are ESPN ladies’ billiards and Monster Truck Racing. I like slow walks to the liquor store and warming my feet on a HD-TV screen. I appreciate candlelight dinners when you prepare them, especially the foods of Eastern Europe, like beef tongue and kielbasa. Quiet evenings at home are my dream. I’ll play Halo: Combat Evolved and stare at your ass while you cook.
     Wanna date?
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                                                          10th Anniversary Edition!
                          Eyeing the Flash: The Making of a Carnival Con Artist
                                                                   By Peter Fenton
                   “A contemporary carnival classic” –Library Journal
                   “A cross between Ferris Bueller and William S. Burroughs…
                   a hilarious, twisted, coming-of-age story—New York Times

                    “An engrossing read…in depicting his eccentric family,
                     the author’s wit crackles”—PEOPLE

                      Published by Simon & Schuster
                      Buy now at amazon.com
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     No?
     That’s the reaction I feared. You see, I used to be the kind of guy girls would die for. Handsome as hell, with rich parents and Einstein-level brains. That was my torment. I had no way to tell if a girl wanted the flawed, real me inside… the old “if I was a carpenter” syndrome. Then I got an idea from my roomie at college. He was a slovenly mess and didn’t have pretty girls by the score.
     So I took a page from his book. I became a slob. Unfortunately, my scheme worked too well. The type of girls who used to jump my bones now avoid me like the plague.
     That’s why I’ve composed this candle in the darkness, as I search for the good woman for me.
     Is it you?
     Here’s how to find out: Next time you’re at a party and spot a repulsive, snot-dripping loser, ignore his grizzly fa├žade. Instead, employ your considerable charm. Seduce him. You may discover under his stomach-churning exterior a wonderful rich brainy guy. Me.
     On the other hand, it might be my roommate.