Possibly the worst part of this whole Anthony Weiner situation is that his sexts are just not that good. And I'm not talking about the sexually explicit parts (which, for all of our sakes, I'm not even going to quote here). No, I'm talking about how he uses terms like "make love" and admits that he's "deeply flawed" and wonders if she was ever turned on when he was on TV. Those things are not sexy. Not at all. But sexting really isn't as easy as it appears. I mean, on the one hand it's intuitive because the desires expressed are ones that are pretty universal. But on the other hand, you don't want to sound like a fool.
It's a really bad time right now for people who like to send naked pictures of themselves to their nearest and dearest. Which, isn't that most people? I would have thought it was most people, based on the fact that it seems like everyone loves nothing more these days than to take selfie after selfie. And what is a dick pic, after all, other than a below-the-belt selfie? Yet one of the most widely read and tweeted Weiner think pieces yesterday was Erin Gloria Ryan of Jezebel's "Should You Send a Lady a Dick Pic" in which the answer was a resounding NO (unless, of course, it's requested, and even then, Ryan says, you probably shouldn't.) This is depressing. What would a world without dick pics be like? Must we go back to the days before smart phones and the ability to send each other perfectly filtered photos of our most private parts? Did Anthony Weiner have to ruin everything good and dirty in this world? Why is he the absolute worst?
The Two Character Play is one of Tennessee William's finest works about a pair of touring actors who are abandoned by their troupe. Watch as fantasy and reality collide as the show goes on, performed solely by the pair. Ben Brantley of The New York Times calls The Two Character Play "Sensational! Hilarious! Powerful!" and the New York Post says, "few can do cray-cray like these two." You can read our review here.
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A few weeks ago I had amazing sex. I would have even gone so far as to say it was up in my all-time top ten. But it's hard for me to give him a secure place right now, actually, because I'm still mad at him. The thing is, even though there's no denying that I physically had a good time, I didn't even like this guy that much. He is the kind of guy who is a master at "mansplaining," and he didn't have a sense of humor about himself at all. Case in point, when I told him his pet rat was “steam punk” he took it as a compliment. He also talked endlessly in a highly affected academic way that is just not natural, and he never reciprocated any of the questions I asked him. He even interrupted me a couple of times, and didn't seem to notice when I never went back to my original story. Regardless, he was dead sexy, and that counts for a lot.
Privilege is everywhere. Privilege is the word of the day. And it's just the accident of birth that leaves you on the right or the wrong side of privilege. And, really, whether it's privilege related to class, race, economic status, gender, looks, or even intelligence, there is a right or a wrong side. If you don't believe it, think to yourself about whether or not you'd feel afraid of walking home after going to buy some Skittles because you might be shot through the heart. That's the world we live in right now, where the ability to walk in your own neighborhood without fearing assault is a privilege. And, you know, fuck that. Fuck that, but don't deny what the reality is. There are people who are born into power, and there are people who have to fight for it, every step of the way.
Recently, a good friend of mine called me in hysterics, crying out, “I didn't get my period this month.”
“Is that unusual?” I asked in my best nurse-practitioner voice.
“Yes. I'm on the pill.”
“Oh, fuck, then. Shit. Sorry!”
”Students with higher GPAs are often more conscientious, show greater self-control, and tend to be perfectionists,” Denise Friedman, an associate professor of psychology at Roanoke, said. "The perceived infidelity likely upsets their attempts at perfection across the board.” Yeah, ok, that makes sense. Reports show that women generally showcased higher levels of Facebook jealousy then men, a finding that matches conclusions from earlier studies as well. But before you get pissed, Sheryl Sandberg, at least there's this: Men were more jealous when the message included a winking emoticon, while women weren't all that affected one way or the other by it. Ha. Boys.
*I got fairly decent grades in school.
We're kicking off this year's series with Can't Hardly Wait, starring Ethan Embry, Seth Green and yes, Jennifer Love Hewitt in the full blush of youth (you're welcome, Brooklyn). Be sure to get there early because Todd P and SHOWPAPER are bringing music to SummerScreen all season long; this week, we're starting the evening with a set from Jeffrey Lewis, presented by SILENT BARN. And this year, we'll have some pre-show entertainment as well. Before the movie, join us for a preview of Childrens Hospital, presented by Adult Swim and Roma, a short film by David Altobelli, presented by 55DSL. You'll find us at McCarren Park at the corner of Bedford Ave. and N. 12th St. (right next to the tennis courts). Gates open at 6pm, the music starts at 6:30, and we'll get the movie started by sundown.
And come hungry because Pizza Moto, Handsome Hanks, Landhaus, Coolhaus, V Spot and Selamat Pagi will be there to make sure you're fed. And Sixpoint Brewery and City Winery will be there to keep you from going thirsty too. Plus, Starbucks® Iced Coffee, vitaminwater and Crunch Gym will be on site to serve up some special complimentary treats.
For the full SummerScreen schedule, click here. And have you cast your vote for the final film of the summer? If not, there's no time like the present. Click here to help us choose which film to play in front of 5,000 of your closest friends and neighbors on Wednesday, August 14.
Thank you to our sponsors for keeping SummerScreen free: 55DSL, Adult Swim, Starbucks® Iced Coffee, City Winery, Sixpoint Brewery, Crunch Gyms, vitaminwater, East River Ferry, Squarespace, Enterprise Car Share, Cinedigm and Zipcar.
What's worse than a bad first date? A great first date. The anxiety that happens in the week following an amazing romantic encounter is enough to put me off experiencing any type of happiness ever again.
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I was 18—a late bloomer to some and right on time to others. I was losing my virginity. Yes, losing. It was a process. And there was one rule to this process; she could never catch us. She hated me.
I am a married 54-year-old postmenopausal woman. My libido has diminished significantly, and it takes me much longer to climax. My husband gets tired sooner and is unable to maintain an erection as long as he used to; this makes it even more difficult for me to climax. I have taken up an activity I did in my 20s when I was single: giving myself enemas. The enema-induced orgasms are fantastic. It’s not an obsessive habit. I’ll sometimes do it four times in one week and then go a month without one. Am I doing any harm to my body by doing frequent quart-size soapy enemas using a retention balloon nozzle and holding it as long as possible and then masturbating as I expel? Will a doctor be able to tell what I’ve been up to when it’s time for a colonoscopy? I would die if a doctor figured it out.
Frustrated Lady Earnestly Enquires Today
This past weekend I was having a stoop sale with my very best friend, Jason. Half way through, I went on an ice cream run at the local parlor to buy cold treats for everyone who was hanging out with us for the day. It had been a great day selling all our old flashy costumes. Most of our friends showed up to hang out and shop, and now the lasty nasties were hanging around to watch the sun go down and help pack up.
The latest installment of Savage Love—taboo fantasies, commitment-phobia, and whether or not it's ok to use disabled men for sex.
We were so bohemian and so wise. She was my best friend, and we lived together during my first year in Brooklyn. Our tiny single beds sat next to each other in the room we shared, making it feel like we were forgotten Von Trapp children left in a European boarding school. She was the girl I took baths with because we had watched the British miniseries “Coming Home” far too many times and thought all girls should share baths and cigarettes. There were no secrets, and there was no individualism. Hell, I could pick out her last boyfriend's dick in a line up because she had described it to me in so much detail. If she had a problem, she would call me from work and say, “I wish you were here so we could figure it out together.” Often, I would find myself snuggling in her bed during the winter because our windows weren't properly insulated. We would face each other with our arms wrapped around each other's backs, tickling each other, and I would say, “I wish you were a boy.”
You could do much, much worse than to pack a blanket and grab some friends and commit to spending the whole day at McCarren. There will be food and beer and lots of attractive people and the aforementioned good vibes. And then there will be music, courtesy of The Walkmen in their only New York show of 2013, as well as the always awesome and newly fawned over Phosphorescent, as well as Friend Roulette and Abadabad. Tickets are sold out, but entry is guaranteed with a badge. Click here to buy a badge.
Another show you could hit up on the early side is going down over at Spike Hill starting at 2pm and featuring a handful of the bands—Caged Animals, The Denzels, Juniper Rising and Coastgaard—from this year's installment of our "8 Bands You Need to Hear" issue. It's one we always feel a strong attachment to, of course, and thus... more good vibes.
At Music Hall on Saturday night, you'll have a chance to see the wonderful, underrated and recently reunited alt-country legends Son Volt, featuring Jay Farrar. Click here to buy individual tickets, or click here to buy a badge. You've also got Merchandise and Milk Music at 285 Kent (click here for individual tickets), and another chance to see Black Flag at Warsaw (click here for individual tickets). And then consider hitting up Jonathan Toubin's Soul Clap & Dance-Off at Brooklyn Bowl. (NB: Our own Virginia K. Smith is judging the dance-off, but we've never seen her dance.) Click here to buy individual tickets, or click here to buy a badge.
Once again, it's gonna be hard to argue with anyone who tells you they just want to hang out at McCarren all day, waiting around to see Solange take the stage. We are quite fond of her, you know, and we think lots of other really famous people are too, so… fingers crossed, you guys, but just be cool, ok? Tickets are sold out, but Music and Premium badge-holders are guaranteed entry. Click here to get yours.
After Solange, you could race over to Europa to see the mighty Lambchop performing a full set of their dark and deeply weird lounge-tinged country music, much of which will presumably come from their outstanding 2012 album, Mr. M. Click here to buy individual tickets, or click here to buy a badge.
There's a hell of a bill scheduled at Glasslands tonight too, with sets by visiting Americana-loving L.A. band Papa and the similarly minded Brooklyn band Grand Rapids bookending a performance by synth-pop leaning Future of What.
Really, though, you could also dedicate your Sunday night to just wandering around and checking out some bands you've never heard of before, lest we forget why we're here in the first place—to discover the bands that next year and in years down the road will be playing to much bigger audiences.
It's a rite of passage for New Yorkers. Everyone I know (especially all my gay male friends) has had at least one missed connection. Mine happened on the F train two summers ago. It was a summer that I looked hot. I was at my thinnest and making a ton of money from collecting unemployment and working an under-the-table bartending job. I spent all my dough on gingham hot pants and matching crop tops. I had a tan and I felt sexy. Also, I decided I really loved Jennifer Egan's writing and I bought every book she ever wrote from BookCourt in Cobble Hill. I was working my through each of them in chronological order and was in the middle of her oeuvre with the novel, Look At Me.
Summertime. Sticky. Sweat behind my knees. Girls in white dresses popping up like daffodils in Fort Greene Park. Beers on stoops and mint juleps in backyard gardens. Cigarettes between my fingers. Watermelon salad and ice cream cones. Ice cubes sliding down my bare stomach melting from the heat inside your mouth. Cold showers. After I'm shivering beneath your fingers, then sweating again back in the bedroom underneath your body.
What time is it? Wedding time! That's right, starting in May, picking up steam in June, and going full force through the summer, there will be an insurmountable number of weddings to attend. Or so I've been told. I've only been to two weddings, but people are always complaining to me about the how many weddings they have to go to. They're all like, “I will just barf if I have to face another chicken dance with the groom's 3rd cousin.” I don't know, but it sounds great to me. No one I know is getting married this spring. They're too bohemian I guess, or too alone.
Too fast, too furious? lol
If this piece was supposed to have humor, I missed something. It's a damn Pixar…
Hey thoughtful article but you sure dug deep to get this out of it.. My…