Time for your weekly edition of the Deadspin Funbag. Got something on your mind? Email the Funbag. Today, we’re covering dating apps, Cocks hats, cannibalism, and more.
Cake cake or ice cream cake for a b-day party?
Ice cream cake! Ice cream cake is always the better option, especially if it’s one of those Carvel fuckers with the little fudgey bits inside. NO ONE DENIES THIS. If you bust out an ice cream cake at your kid’s birthday party, I know I’m in good hands, especially if you take the following precautions:
1. Thaw the fucker. Never serve ice cream cake right out of the freezer. It’s like stone. You get 15 kids with big tears and bent cutlery. Take it out for 10-15 minutes and then you’re gold.
2. Serve it in bowls. If you serve it on a plate, what happens? It melts in five seconds and gets all over your $10 disposable Paw Patrol tablecloth. Awful. It’s more ice cream than cake, so put it in a bowl, and what’s more…
3. Spoons not forks. Again, it’s ice cream. Why am I using a fork for this thing? The only reason to serve it with a fork is because you forgot to thaw it. You penis. I want it in a bowl, with a spoon, and I want it nice and soft so that I can watch the fudgey parts meld with the ice cream and lethal frosting in my spoon, sending me into a state of fatboy delirium. OH GOD THAT BITE IS GONNA BE SO GOOOOOOOOD.
Compared to ice cream cake, regular cake is crap. All the kids eat the frosting and then PULVERIZE the rest of the dry cake on the inside, leaving the floor littered with Betty Crocker sawdust. As much as I love picking off stray knobs of icing from the Safeway platter, it’s not an optimal dessert experience. If you aren’t serving ice cream cake, then the next best option is molten lava cake, where the good shit is on the INSIDE. Make those kids work for their sugar coma.
If I were to cut off my arm and eat it, would I gain weight or lose weight before I dropped stool? Both wounds are heat cauterized immediately after amputation, so no blood loss, and the arm is blended in such a way that it can be eaten/drank without adding any mass to it. Would it matter if it were a thick, muscular arm, a skinny string or a flabby flapper? WebMD refused to acknowledge the question, so this one’s on you.
If the wound is cauterized, that means that you have lost water from your blood even if you didn’t technically “lose” any blood, and that loss of water weight means you would weigh less in the immediate aftermath of gorging on yourself. Also, you’re using lots of energy to power through that arm smoothie, and your digestive system is also burning calories to process all that delicious arm goodness. Thus, you would be lighter.
And frankly, even though we’re using lots of magical shit to make this hypothetical possible, you’re not eating an entire human arm in one sitting. Look at it. It’s huge. Your hand alone would be enough for a full meal, and now you’re adding the forearm, upper arm, and possibly a bit of man shoulder? Impossible. Even if you get over the self-cannibalization hump, it’s too much food. You’d throw up that arm, and then you’d be like, “Curses! If only I could take this arm barf and make it back into my real arm!” And then you’d cry, and lose even MORE water weight. The point is: Don’t eat your arm. It’s the ultimate self-own.
I work at the Pentagon and the day while leaving work I walked past the Secretary of Defense. He was coming out of the dry cleaners having just picked up his laundry. I was impressed that a guy whose job is to confirm nuclear launches picked up his own dry cleaning. Now my question is it OK to feel this way, or am I getting into Patriot Way/Midwestern grit/schmaltzy bullshit territory?
No no, it’s fine. If I walked by ol’ Mad Dog doing some bullshit errand, I would be like, “Hey! He’s not having some dipshit lackey do it for him! He seems pretty down-to-Earth!” I think it’s okay to infer a certain lack of pretension there, even if the guy may still be a complete dick. He may be a furious micromanager who picks up his own dry cleaning specifically so that he can inspect it and then berate the cleaner for not getting the relish out of that Thomas Pink shirt. Or maybe years of serving in the military got him used to fastidiously maintaining his clothes and making his bed, and he’ll fucking cut you if you dare interfere in the process. You don’t want to infer too much from a single thing.
But on the whole, it’s nice to see someone in a position of relative authority not delegate everything to a bunch of stooges. It’s nice when people you don’t expect to be normal turn out to have normal habits. There’s a reason US Weekly pays out big bucks for shots of Leonardo DiCaprio gassing up his fucking car.
I was thinking about this yesterday because after Luke Maye nailed that shot to beat Kentucky, he went to class the next day. Now here’s how I first saw it:
And I was like that, “Now that’s fucking cool.” He hit this extraordinary shot, and then went back to class and I bet it was an awesome moment for him AND for the class. I’d be smiling all fucking morning if I were in there. But then… then I saw Bleacher Report handle it this way:
BARF. Fuck you, Bleacher Report. Let’s not make an otherwise nice, small moment into some goddamn moral lesson for the universe. Isn’t UNC the school where tutors did all the work anyway? For all I know, Luke Maye is gonna cheat on his finals like a GLORY BOY.
What state is the least visited, voluntarily? I’m sure Idaho is lovely and all, but when you take away everyone going for potato conventions, does anyone actually vacation there? Also passing through just to get to somewhere better doesn’t count.
Oh yeah, people visit Idaho. It’s gorgeous. You got Sun Valley and the Grand Tetons and good skiing. It’s like flypaper for affluent white people. And if you’re prepping for Racial Holy War? Holy shit, Idaho is like your Jamaica. It gets plenty of visitors.
Anyway, the clear answer is North Dakota. It’s frigid and barren. There are no big cities, no major colleges, no World’s Biggest Ball of Yarn to stare at. It has a grand total of one national park. It’s like a worse Nebraska. At least the other Dakota got Mount Rushmore. Every time a super famous person emerges from that state—like Carson Wentz, or Tom Brokaw, or Chuck Klosterman—I picture them escaping through a demilitarized zone of barbed wire and armed yetis.
Anytime I interact with a stranger I always call them “sir” or “ma’am”. The other day I was holding the door for someone and after they thanked me I said “Yes, ma’am” without thinking. I was raised that way and now it is just automatic.
I use “sir” and “ma’am” too, even though that’s more of a Southern thing and I was raised in the Midwest. I have no idea where I picked it up, frankly. All I know is I threw down a “ma’am” on a flight once and the attendant was like, “You are so polite!” and I fucking BEAMED. Goddamn right, lady. You are looking at the last true gentleman. That’s why they give me the whole can of club soda, BITCH. I bet she told all the other attendants, “That boy was raised right!”
Anyway, I was on a trip with my brother a few weeks ago and I threw down a “ma’am” at the bar and he was like, “What are you doing? She’s like 22. She’s not a ma’am.” And I was like EVERYONE DESERVES PROPER RESPECT, GOOD SUH. He was not swayed.
What’s your definitive ranking of coaster designs/shapes? At a bar recently, I was given a Bud Light coaster shaped like a fucking doormat to rest my cylindrical pint glass on. Not only was this unnecessarily long, it was also barely wide enough for the base of the glass. Setting the glass back down each time without any part of it hanging off the edge was like a game of Operation.
They’re all flawed in so many ways. The little paper ones they give you at fratty bars always end up sticking. Ditto bar napkins. You can get a hard plastic one with little ridges to prevent it from sticking, but then that gets sopping wet from condensation and end up sticking to the glass anyway. Then it falls off and scares the dog.
I once used a coaster that was beaded, so that there was enough variance in the surface area to keep it off the glass, but it also had a cloth bottom to soak up all the excess water. That was a decent coaster. I also stole a bunch of bar towels they use in British pubs to catch runoff. I was real proud of those towels. They said GUINNESS right on the terry cloth! Now that’s some classy shit.
But the best coaster is no coaster at all. I like to go bareback on the table and get it wet all over. That lets people know I’m a REAL MAN who doesn’t worry about dainty-ass coasters getting rings on the mahogany. After an hour of drinking, I don’t really care what kind of mess I’m making.
(For real though one time I got a permanent coffee ring on my windowsill and I was very upset about it.)
Would you say that a bowl of Kraft Mac & Cheese is more orange or yellow? My wife and I recently got into it - I say it’s definitely more orange. Am I crazy? PEOPLE HAVE TO AGREE WITH ME, RIGHT?
I’m with you. The pasta is yellow when it’s uncooked in the box. Then you dump in a pat of butter and some milk and the cheese sauce and now it’s neon orange; the Doritos of pasta. If it were yellow, it would be more of carbonara, or some other pasta dish that doesn’t also come in Darth Vader shapes.
By the way, I am the worst Kraft mac maker. Never ask me to prepare it for you. My wife strains the pasta and them lovingly whisks together the powder and butter and milk into a lovely béchamel sauce before adding the pasta back in. I think she even measures. I don’t do any of that. I just dump all the stuff on top if the pasta and mix it around. Sometimes I pour in too much milk and it looks like it’s been served in a lake. And sometimes I’m lazy to keep stirring and I serve the Kraft Mac with big pebbles of unmixed powder glommed onto the tubes. If I’m searing a steak while making some kiddie dish, the latter ain’t my priority.
With South Carolina Final Fouring...are we in any danger of the 1990s Cocks hats making a comeback? Of bad bro fads, this is one of worst right?
Oh man, The Game hats! I loved those hats, man. You could break ‘em in so good! I used to curl that brim you hard you could slip a can of Coke into it. Let me tell you, back in 1994, the fact that you could wear a hat with COCKS blazed across the front felt like a real act of rebellion. I never owned a COCKS hat but I definitely approved of them. LOL penises. I supported any and all bro wear at the time: The Game hats, Coed Naked shirts, Big Dog apparel… everything except Tevas. Tevas are for assholes. Bros in Tevas are up to no good.