The Truth about Female Tattoos

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I’m down with ink, but let’s be honest: if a girl wants to get all tatted up without looking like a crack whore, her options are limited. Every available tattoo location on the female body comes with some type of preconception attached.

Hey, I don’t make the rules. If you’re female and you’re determined to sport tats, prepare to be judged. Evidence:


1. Lower Back:

Personally, I’m a fan of the female lower-back/upper-ass tattoo. I think it’s cute. The only downside is that some wisecracking amateur poet realized that “tramp” rhymes with “stamp,” and bam! What could have been a tasteful piece of body art is now considered slut-branding. So it goes.

 

 

2. Arm:

Arm tats practically scream this chick will shank you and steal your drugs. On the plus side, if you earn an arm-tatted girl’s respect (aka “slap her around”) she’ll pawn her motorcycle to bail you out of jail.

 

 

3. Neck:

The back of the neck is the ultimate hippie/lesbian tat location. If there’s a female equivalent to a guy getting his right ear pierced, the base-of-the-neck tattoo is it. Common neck tats include Japanese kanji and dolphins in majestic mid-leap. Also popular: any of the Lucky Charms marshmallows. Green clovers, blue diamonds, purple horseshoes, yellow moons…

 

 

4. Inside of the Lip:

What’s the point of this tattoo, other than occasional shock value? My favorite lip tat: barcode. Whenever I see people with barcode tattoos I always want to sprint past them with a grocery store scanner, just to see what rings up.

 

 

5. Ankle:

The ankle tat is the I’m-not-the-kind-of-girl-who-usually-does-this-type-of-thing tattoo. If you’re considering an ankle tat as your first ink, you probably shouldn’t be associating with tattoo artists to begin with. Do yourself a favor and stick to henna.

Common examples of ankle tats: yin-yang, barbed wire, any species of colorful flying insect (dragonfly, butterfly et al.). Dolphin is once again popular.

 

Incidentally, any girl who gets a dolphin tattoo is essentially admitting creative defeat. Dolphin tattoos are the natural evolution of the unicorn posters these girls used to plaster all over their rooms; icky vestiges of juvenile sappiness.

 

 

6. Labia:

Now that’s slut-branding. A girl with a vaginal tattoo is clearly willing to let some strange dude get all up in her biznatch with ink and needles and whatnot. Just…yick.

The Truth about Babies

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Contrary to popular opinion, babies aren’t cute. Not even a tiny bit. If you believe that babies are cute, your judgment has been compromised by the breeding instinct. You should be removed from any position of authority and disqualified from decision-making until such time as your biological clock ceases ticking.

Babies drool. They vomit. They are frequently smeared with feces and other bodily fluids. Yet when they flash their strange little toothless smiles, people melt. I’m constantly perplexed at the fact that otherwise rational human beings go all googly over these gnomish, dried up little monsters.

Here’s a quick rationality test: which are cuter, kittens or babies?

If you said babies, you are wrong. And possibly stupid. Kittens are far superior to babies in every way. This is not a matter of opinion. It is verifiable.

Proof that kittens are cuter than (and otherwise superior to) babies:

1. Kittens have fur. Fur is soft and smooth and can generate a static charge, with which you could conceivably electrocute a baby and make him cry. Advantage kittens.

2. Kittens don’t cry, even when electrocuted. (I’m fairly certain this is true. I haven’t actually electrocuted a kitten, because really, who would do that? They’re so damn cute.)

3. Kittens have survival skills and the endearing ability to execute perfect backflips when tossed in the air. Babies, on the other hand, just flop to the earth in a sad heap, causing everyone at the party to start yelling about how you can’t be trusted with children when you’re drunk. Stupid babies.

Now I’ll admit that babies are a necessary evil, required for perpetuating the species. But otherwise they’re filthy and useless. And in fact, I can envision scenarios in which babies are responsible for our collective downfall.

Imagine that you are an extraterrestrial life-form visiting earth from another planet. Now imagine that upon landing in North America you encounter an attractive human female. At first, you’d be impressed. Humans, you would conclude, are worthy of continued existence. You’d nod approvingly and slip your phaser back into your jumpsuit. Yet only moments later you’d be horrified to witness a tiny parasitic creature latching itself to this beautiful woman’s bosoms, draining her dry, leaving her formerly succulent breasts sagging and lifeless. At which point you’d naturally decide to embark on a mission of intergalactic genocide.

Earth would be toast, thanks to babies. It could happen.

Episode 14 – Amy Baldwin from Pure Pleasure

Amy Baldwin is co-owner of the mother/daughter sex shop Pure Pleasure in Santa Cruz. Never heard of a mother/daughter sex shop? Listen for details. Amy joins us in the bedroom/studio for an uncensored chat about sex toys, anal, and the miracle of lube.

Episode 7 – Chad Opitz

Things you probably already know about up-and-coming Santa Cruz comedian Chad Opitz:

1. He’s damn funny.

2. He manages a movie theater.

Things you probably didn’t know about up-and-coming Santa Cruz comedian Chad Opitz:

1. He sang opera in college.

2. He’s a filthy pervert.

Plus: Noah and Shane talk hypnosis. Fun episode. Happy Holidays!

Episode 8 – Mean Dave, Liz Stone, Jesus Cruz

On this supersized episode of the S&G P: Mean Dave, Liz Stone, and Jesus Cruz give us an inside look at the challenges and rewards of running a comedy room. And Noah is too cool to crap his pants.

Also, Noah and Shane discuss Last Comic Standing, the SC Comedy Festival, Amy Schumergate, Brian Regan live, and more.

The Internet is a Forest

Have you ever wondered what the Internet actually looks like?

In this seven minute episode, Shane gives an entertaining overview of the entire Internet, and lays the foundation for part II: Net Neutrality.

20 Days

Twenty days ago, I was just like you.

Remember me? Sarcastic thirty-something bachelor with the snarky blog? By day I managed a staff of fifty employees at a Santa Cruz resort. In my free time I performed standup comedy, with reasonable success. I made it to the finals of a couple standup competitions, booked some weekend gigs at comedy clubs, opened for bigger names. When I wasn’t working or comedying I hung out with friends and hosted BBQs and shot hoops and occasionally strummed the guitar.

A lot can change in twenty days.

Today I bought a coloring book. I didn’t buy it as a gift. It wasn’t for a neice or nephew. It wasn’t even for nostalgia. No, I walked into a Toys R Us store and picked out a Star Wars-themed coloring book with the intention of sitting down in center of the carpet and coloring like a five-year-old, because at this point I’m desperate to find activities that won’t overstimulate me or somehow add to my stress, or–worst of all–aggravate the intense pressure in my head.

Here’s what happened: On April 29th, I woke up in the grip of a vicious panic attack. I’m not the kind of guy who gets panic attacks. I had no clue what was happening to me, nor how to manage the experience. I wasn’t brave. I shook and moaned and cried. Finally I ended up calling my dad, and he talked me down…temporarily.

That first night was bad, and it snowballed from there. Each day I struggled to fight through waves of panic. Fighting panic is counterproductive: you tense up, your heart races, you feel like jumping out of your skin. My resistence only compounded the fear. I layered fear on top of panic on top of fear. Worst of all, the adrenaline and lack of sleep teamed up to create a wicked pressure in my head that doesn’t abate, doesn’t release. It’s as though my brain is caught in a slowly clenching vice.

Full disclosure: this condition probably didn’t come out of nowhere. I had been suppressing emotion for years, and living a life of which I’m honestly not proud. I am now becoming aware that there is an ocean of fear and depression bubbling deep down in my subconscious, and that I’m going to need to reckon with all of it before I can possibly get better.

My close friends will recognize that this isn’t my first encounter with intense fear. About six years ago I was briefly hospitalized as the result of a traumatic drug reaction, and spent months in a very similar hell. That experience faded over time, and it’s possible that this one will too, that the irrational fear will lose its ability to control my life, and my brain will recalibrate. But it’s looking like that’s only going to happen via a long journey of therapy and self discovery. I’m going to need to learn to approach my life in completely different ways. I can’t hide behind ego or bravado. I need to be open and honest, and practice techniques to manage panic. I’m going to need to find a way to sleep consistently. And because of my previous experience, I have to do all of this without the benefits of medication.

These days I work on jigsaw puzzles and play with erector sets while listening to the soothing-voiced droning of self-help audiobooks. Movies are out. Music is out. Ditto TV and novels. Comedy, for now, is a memory. I haven’t seen friends in weeks. Currently, my life revolves around my family, my girlfriend, and breathing. Reminding myself to relax. Avoiding overstimulation, minimizing fear. Accepting that I’m sick, and that it will be a long time before I get back to a healthy state of mind. Accepting that I may never be 100% anxiety-free. Each day is a challenge. Nights are agony. I generally sleep three hours or less, and I live with the constant knowledge that each night could very well consist of waking up again at 3a.m. with a head full of buzzing electric bees, facing the next six-plus hours of hell alone.

But I’m not alone. My parents and girlfriend have been amazing. They’ve spent multiple nights holding my hand and stroking my head while I tremble and rave. I’m incredibly lucky to have a dedicated support network. When I get through this, it will be because of them.

This blog entry wasn’t easy to write, and I don’t know how long I’ll leave it posted. It’s difficult and scary for me to be honest about this condition. For the first couple of weeks I kept insisting it would pass. And it will, I truly believe that…but not any time soon. This is my new normal, for a while.

I’m sick, but I’m not giving up. Today is scary, and tomorrow might be worse, but I’ve had good days. I’ve slept a few nights all the way through, and even on the worst days there have been moments when I’ve felt almost normal.

I can and will get better. Not today, not tomorrow, but possibly soon. There’s hope.

After all, a lot can change in twenty days.