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The AbsurdistThe Absurdist

Friday, June 09, 2006
  How to Be Trendy Douchebag post Sex-and-the-City (Lesson 1.1)

Continuing on how to be a trendy Post-Sex and the City Douchebag:

- Have an enraged feud with Lindsay Lohan, Nicole Richie or Mary Kate Olsen and only describe it to the press as "All I'm going to say is that she knows what she did."
 

Thursday, June 01, 2006
  How to Be Trendy Douchebag post Sex-and-the-City (Lesson 1.0)

Ladies (and I mean ladies in the most egalitarian, non-gender specific way),

It has come to my attention that the appalling fashion slavery gestated by HBO’s love-letter to Manhattan lifestyle, Sex and the City, has since left a gaping void in the unglamorous lives of the unwashed, ruralite masses. Lacking the commonality of a newly minted episode of sophisticated shoebox living, flamboyant fashion styling, and empowering, oversexualized cougardom, both women and men lack a cultural touchstone to pull together the collective cosmopolitan delusion into a Burberry tartan scrunchie.

How will women sporting gargantuan lapel flower broaches cue one another in privy knowingness when strutting confidently down Main Street, Smallsville, shopping for eggs, cheese and replacement gaskets for the milking machine?

How will men embrace metrosexuality and the cultural importance of social climbing through chest waxing?

Well, I am here to help. Kicking off the first of what is expected to be a regular feature, I offer you the Spring/Summer Guide to Douchiness 2006: the Accessories edition.

1) No look is complete without a rolled-up piece of overpriced plastic foam slung casually over the right or left shoulder. Not only must the Yoga Mat colour co-ordinate with your Nuala by Christie Turlington yoga outfit, but so must your attitude. The East Village bohemia exuded by the Yoga Mat projects a steady calm in all things, no matter how badly asphyxiated you are by blackening taxi exhaust fumes.

2) The cold war may be over, but you head needn’t be. Worn over straighten hair, either straight on or crooked to one side, the Castro Hat is a look more resilient than a shoeless mother of seven in a Siberian bread line.

3) Teetering between appointments, the Vente Soy Latte is a statement of health consciousness and caffeine dependency. Use as a defensive measure when wanting to avoid carry large parcels or avoid carrying on conversations. Even when empty, continue to sip to avoid eye contact and prying photographer eyes. Note, carrying a Vente cup branded by an independent coffee shop may label you either a hip, non-conformist free spirit or, alternately, a lesbian.

4) This season, hang up the accessory dog and get ready for the Broach Beetle. Yes, leashing a bejeweled hissing Madagascar beetle to your shirt collar is not only an instant party conversation starter, but, in case of fire, flood, or terrorist attack, makes a protein rich, emergency snack free of artificial colors or preservatives.
 

  Comic books are soooo gay

What started out as a mild Saturday Night Live satire, i.e. the Ambiguously Gay Duo, has metamorphasized into a bona fide homosexual superhero/superheroine zeitgeist. Not one, but two significant superhero closet door splinterings have occured within the span of days. DC comics, announcing the newly revamped Batwoman as a full fledged queer, finally acknowledges that the majority of their actual comic-book reading female fans are, indeed, lesbians. Furthermore, and coincidentally timed with the release of the Brett Ratner butchered lensed X-Men 3 movie, Marvel Comic mutant "Colossus" was outed as a gay man. Colossus's mutant power is to turn his circuit-boy physique into solid, organic steel- a pairing of steel and gay maleness that puts copyright lawyers of a notorius Toronto gay male strip revue into a heel-grinding frenzy. Personally, I've always found comic book heros, with their improbably musculature and obsession with spandex codpieces to hint, if not outright burn, of homosexual proclivities. Plus with the anti-gay-marriage electioneering going on in the US, it just goes to prove you can't keep a fierce faggot down.
[originally appeared in This Magazine]
 

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