If your surname was Estomen, and you had a son, would you name him Norman?

At the newsstand, glossy advice: Summer of Sex, 56 Things You’ve Never Tried; Secrets to Great Abs; 40 Secret Rules of Being a Guy. On and on. It’s like an industry.

Let’s make a magazine. Put your headlines and or articles in the comments.

Continue reading →

re-run (originally posted Nov. 2003)

I was sitting around with a bunch of young diplomats from around the world the other day drinking coffee and talking about international relations.

Diplomat 1: Bzzbzzbzzbzbzzz.
Diplomat 2: Bzzbzbbzzzzbzbzbzz.
Diplomat 3: Bzzbzbzbzbbbbbzzzz.
Diplomat 4: Bzzbzbbbbzzzzzzbzbzzz.
Diplomat 5: Bzzbzbbzzz
Diplomat 6: Bbzzzzbzbzbzz
[finally, 15 minutes later, the topic drifts to something I can contribute to]
Diplomat 2: …hands, and feet were also bound. And gagged.
Diplomat 3: What did police say the cause of death was again?
Diplomat 2: Asf… asfi… asfix…
Me: Asphyxiation?
Diplomat 4: Say what?
Me: Asphyxiation.
Diplomat 5: Spelled how?
Diplomat 6: A-S-P-H-Y-X-I-A-T-I-ON
[everyone looks at him suspiciously]
Diplomat 6: [shrugs]
Diplomat 3: What is that, exactly?
Me: Remember Michael Hutchence?

1. Do not assemble pool after dark. Seriously.

Continue reading →

My native guide takes me to a secluded location known for hedge-hog sightings. We put out food and hide in our blind. (all pictures link to larger popup images).
Soon, two emerge from their lair: a mother and a young one.

Then the remaining three young hedge-hogs emerge and start wolfing down the food. They can be distinguished by the colors of their snouts, which range from dark to light. Albino hedge-hogs have been sighted in Austria, where they are relatively common, but none of these are albinos. One of the young ones has the habit of climbing completely into the food dish and standing on the food, which I conclude he does in order to have more for himself. The little runt is the last one to get any food, spending the first several minutes jockeying for position.
We are quite surprised when a fifth young hedge-hog emerges from the lair, since we only moved four to the backyard from their burrow in front of our house. No idea where this little guy came from. We assume the mother remembered him and moved him from the burrow to the back yard one night after we went to bed.
Eventually, the hedge-hogs notice the guy taking pictures of them a foot from their dish, and I back off so as not to stress them out.

When you call into work from home and one of the hot secretaries answers, don’t expect your wife to appreciate all the different levels of irony when you purr into the phone, “hey beautiful, this is Mig.”