The Big "O"m

As some of you know, I recently turned down an opportunity to relocate to DC. Now, it seems that a move to NYC could be in my near future.

My parents aren't diggin' the prospect, as they warn me that there are all sorts of crazies up there. (I can believe that. Big Sexy is a New Yorker, and he was crazy enough to ignore Beyonce's wise advice, "If you like it, then you shoulda put a ring on it," and, well, not put a ring on it. He did, however, send the chocolates.)

Now, it seems there is one more reason for them to be horrified at my potential move to the Big Apple: Orgasmic Meditation Comes to NYC.

Thanks, a lot New York Post. Couldn't you have stuck to your journalistic guns and asked only those weighty, political questions necessary for the functioning of a free society? You know, the ones: Clear Leggings: Fab or Fug? (How can you tell??), Who Hates Matthew McConaughey? (Straight men and blind women?), and What if Miley Won an Oscar (Hell would freeze over?)

As an aside, good Lord, reading crap headlines like that makes me wish that Obama would go Hu Jintao on us (he's working on it) and control the news by declaring himself CEO of all news outlets. His resume does already include GM under "CEO experience." Maybe his first act as CEO could be to raise money for his spending spree, by taxing certain words. May I suggest "Fug" to start?

Speaking of fugging, where were we? Right, the Big O(m). For those who obviously don't share my morbid curiousity and didn't click the link, the story explains how random groups of strangers now get together to exercise their fingers and [insert imagination here].

But helping people gain manual dexterity and bliss in the land downunder isn't the only positive aspect of this group. The other? It only employs orphans. I'm assuming this, of course, but it's not a stretch. No one with living parents could possibly work as an instructor there. "Hi, mom, so I got this great new gig showing people how to teach the meow-meow how to purr. I know I'm allergic, but don't worry, we wear rubber gloves!"

So, the moral of the story? (And, I use the word "moral" loosely). If you're having trouble getting down south head up north.

That's what I intend to do soon ... albeit for far less climactic reasons.


  1. Where were these job opportunities when I was a young job-seeker?

  2. Wow, I guess there's a class fro anything these days.

  3. Quoth the wit:

    "I was just...practicing my mantra"
    /Ace Ventura impersonation

    This was inevitable as it feeds the two most voracious appetites in New York, sex and more importantly, the desire for New Yawkers to feel cutting edge, risque, daring. Only they could bring us self-indulgent meditation.

  4. this is all fine and dandy.. But the real question is:

    Where will you be on April 15th? :)