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.
So let’s take a moment to appreciate what these New Cocks have done. This is the greatest accomplishment in the history of that school’s athletic department, right? I remember when they hired Lou Holtz to coach the football team and he was like, “We’reth bringingth a nathional thampionthip here THUFFERIN THUCCOTASH!” and everyone knew that was horseshit because South Cacklacky was where old coaches go to play golf and pick up some bonus retirement cash. So I’m happy that they finally broke through. Maybe the COCKS hats will come back! I could use one. I’m in the market for a new baseball cap and all of them are now designed strictly for Eddie Huang. I need a proper hat to match my Merrell sneakers. Now that’s a sharp dad look.
What is the appropriate charge to add to a sandwich or burger to make it a combo?
Two dollars. That one dollar for the fries and another dollar for the drink. I swear I’ve seen combos where you save a grand total of 10 cents instead of ordering your shit a la carte. It’s annoying. If you’re trying to upsell me into killing myself, you gotta give me a substantial discount.
They’ve been jacking up prices for side dishes for a while now. I love Five Guys, but the fries cost nearly as much as the goddamn burger. That’s crazy. Charge me two bucks for a cup. You don’t have to fill the whole bag with those things. This is not a competition. And fancy restaurants are even worse. Ever go to one of those steakhouses where they charge you for the fucking SAUCE? It’s enraging. You shell out $35 for a ribeye, and they have the stones to ask for another $7 for béarnaise? Take your béarnaise and give yourself an enema with it. Side dish inflation is real and must be stopped.
UConn Women’s basketball just won 100+ games straight. How many more would they win if they stuck you in as head coach? I think they continue to dominant streak for at least 20 games. The girls know how to play, all you have to do is manage substitutions based on fouls and manage the clock. Thoughts?
I’d fuck it all up. I know the “manage subs and the clock” thing sounds all hunky dory, but I’d absolutely turn into Basketball Andy Reid if you stuck me in there cold. I don’t wanna give Geno more credit than the players who go out there and actually win the games, but he seems like a pretty important component of the whole enterprise. How are these UConn players gonna respond knowing that they gotta listen to ME? They’d spend the whole game rolling their eyes. Shit, if I were a player, I’d probably lose on purpose just to embarrass my new schlub coach. And since I wouldn’t know how to manage the game in tight moments, I bet it would all fall apart quickly, especially at tourney time.
By the way, I still think Geno should try his hand at coaching an NBA team. He’s already the John Wooden of women’s basketball. What’s keeping him at UConn, apart from the chance to teach young players and experience the joy of watching them develop both on and off the court? LAME. Give that a man a job coaching the loser Kings and let’s see how that shit plays out. I’d be riveted, and my personal entertainment is always the top priority.
I signed up for Bumble (aka. “theoretically less-creepy Tinder”) a while ago, and one of the first five profiles that came up was for an honest-to-god MLB player. A friend downloaded it herself after she heard the story, and one of the first people it showed her was for someone in the NFL. Both of these guys are relatively low on their teams’ totem poles, both had reason to be in our area, and both used non-publicity pictures of themselves while they were still in college or playing the minors, so I’m inclined to think the profiles were legit. Is this a brilliant scheme to keep new users invested, or is Bumble really the dating app of choice for pro athletes?
Oh I think it’s possible that Bumble paid those guys to be POWER USERS as part of some stupid guerrilla marketing effort. That’s a big racket, where famous people are paid straight cash just to use services or walk around with a bottle of kombucha in their hands. But my guess is that those guys are on every single dating app. They’re not just on Bumble. They’re on Tinder, and Hinge, and Match, and Clam, and Burgy, and Fukr, and Glop, and Vycius, and Quiif. All of them. They like to cast a wide net.
Also, I know that there are a bunch of new apps vying to compete with Tinder, but I can promise you that men will find a way to ruin those for you, too. If all the women move to a new place, that’s where all the creeps and losers and dipshits follow. And even if the user interface is more helpful to women, men will find a way to game that shit. Or worse, you’ll find some NICE GUY who’s on Bumble because he’s super thoughtful and sensitive and not That Guy, and then you’ll meet him for coffee and he will TOTALLY be that guy, if not worse. Then you’ll ghost him and he’ll write a 10,000-word Thought Catalog post about what a bitch you are. Fun!
I work for an international company, and occasionally I interact with British people. At a recent company event, I met a colleague named Lance. But, given that he has a British accent, he introduced himself as “Lahntz.” This put me in a predicament. Usually I would avoid saying his name for the rest of the day, but I had to call out for him and introduce him to several people throughout the event. So what’s the right cultural move here? Should I have pronounced his name “Lahntz” as he pronounces it...and risk being seen as a pretentious fraud? Or should I have pronounced it “Lance” like an American would...and risk being seen as a cultural simpleton?
Go with the American pronunciation. You don’t affect an accent any other time you talk to Lance, so no need to start now. “Say Lahntz, would you like to go to the DAHNTZ CLUB?” If he wants to correct you and force everyone to say his name like they were born in the fucking Cotswolds, that’s on him. But you’re an American, and in America Lance is Lance. He is not Lahntz, or Lawn-say, or Laynz.
Personally, I am always wowed when I work with someone who turns out to be British. I might Slack or email with them for a while, then I hear them talk for the first time and I’m like OMG YOU’RE BRITISH! THAT’S SO EXOTIC! What is life like in your faraway land of wonders?
While I consider myself semi-religious, I am by no means devout. However, when someone close to me passes away I always have a fear of whacking off, with the thought process being that this newly deceased soul is now able to watch every depraved move I make. Is this reasonable?
I mean, if you’re at the wake, sure. Maybe wait to get home. Anyway, your fears are unfounded. The newly deceased can’t see you masturbate. And even if they could, they could probably do it FOREVER. It’s possible that all the dead people are watching you every time you jack it: family members, old pets, ABE LINCOLN. They could be sitting right by your bed the whole time. Goddamn. Reminds me of that old SNL parody of Ghost where Swayze comes down as a ghost and finds out Molly has been chewing her toenails and shit when he’s not around. I bet ghosts are all thoroughly disgusted. Ghosts and Jesus.
Anyway, you should feel free to keep doing your business whenever. The spirits can deal.
What’s better, Red Lobster cheddar biscuits or Olive Garden breadsticks? I’m with the biscuits because I would go to Red Lobster just for the biscuits, but I wouldn’t go to Olive Garden just for the breadsticks. Where are you at on this one?
The whole Olive Garden deal is that you get unlimited breadsticks AND salad, and the salad is an important part of that. I like to eat five bowls of that salad (Oh look! A radish!) and pretend that’s good for my body before digging into the Taco Salad Fettuccine. It’s a pretty good salad.
The breadsticks themselves can’t possibly compete with those Red Lobster biscuits. Those things are unreal. They need the biscuits to be spectacular so that you won’t be mad when your king crab legs turn out to the size of chopsticks. I wanna complain, but I’m too full of cheesy goodness to muster the effort. I usually end up dunking the biscuit in the crab butter instead.
Would a kidless airline succeed? Imagine a flight that was guaranteed to be adults-only. People would pay (even more ridiculously high prices) for that, right? Please weigh in.
It would fail. If you wanna pay more to guarantee no kids near you, you can always just spring for a first class ticket. But with the exception of nonstop routes, no one wants to pay anything extra for a flight. Virgin America was the best airline in the universe and it couldn’t make any money because paying customers like me would rather risk life and limb flying in a ValuBlood Airways plane to save a hundred bucks. Some days I feel like everyone is flying on free miles except me, and that makes me want to be even more of a cheapskate. People don’t like spending a lot and airlines don’t either, and that’s why air travel in America is about as fun as shooting a nail gun into your face.
Being an Idaho native, I am obviously very fond of the potato and the many forms you may consume it in. You’ve got all the classics: fried potatoes (French fries, tater tots, waffle fries, steak fries), hash browns, baked potatoes, potato skins, roast potatoes, mashed potatoes, potato chips, potato salad, and potato soup. A coworker of mine (Wisconsin native) suggested that cheese has the superior resume. His argument is based around fried cheese curds, which he considers to be the finest fast food item. He also states that any potato dish is enhanced by cheese flavor, which is often true. However, when evaluating each on their own merits, the many variations of potatoes clearly overwhelm cheese. In a seven-game series, who ya got?
Cheese. Potatoes are potatoes. I know that restaurants like to get fancy now and trot out purple potatoes and other uncommon varieties, but it’s still a potato. It’s a fungible starch. I’d rather scrap the empty carbs for life and indulge in cheddar, and provolone, and burrata, and finely aged gouda, and parmesan, and more provolone. Cheese is more diverse, and I can always order nachos instead of fries. Big health benefits!
Email of the week!
I had an early flight the other day, and decided to stop at the surprisingly busy “restaurant” to grab a small bite to eat. The only spot open was at the bar next to a middle aged, pleasant lady finishing her meal. Seeing as though I didn’t have that much time, and feeling the awkwardness of small talk expectations, I asked her how long it took her to get her meal. The timeframe bordered on me possibly not receiving the terrible airport breakfast in time for my flight, so she ended up offering me her uneaten French toast she had left over. Scenario breakdown: French toast was not on a side plate, it was already covered in syrup, but it appeared untouched. It was a very odd situation, and because I’m a weak person (for not wanting to shun her overly friendly attitude, and because - food) I went ahead with it. I felt gross afterwards but probably not enough to regret the situation. Would you have done the same? And what would it take for you to eat or not eat some stranger’s leftovers breakfast?
Damn. Damn that is bold on both ends.