Trash Dept. of Self-Abasement
Bradley Steinbacher, Charles Mudede, and I were reflecting (boozily) on the nature of blogging and the careful, loving attention our readers pay to our errors and minor embarrassments. We love it. Really, we do. And as a reward, we have decided to throw our most dedicated critics a bone. Or three bones (plus a bonus bone!)—a series of embarrassing facts:
Charles’s first date—at the age of 17—ended because he couldn’t hide his erection 15 minutes into the date. He tried to conceal it, but he couldn’t. She left, disgusted, and he was, in his words, “mortally wounded.” (We couldn’t decide which was more embarrassing—his inability to conceal his boner or the fact that he didn’t score his first date until he had nearly graduated from high school.)
Brendan once shat himself while walking down a sidewalk. On the plus side, he was close to home. On the minus side, he was 19 years old.
When Bradley was 11, he got a pen stuck up his ass. As in, it wouldn’t come out. He says he was “experimenting” at the time. To this day he claims to be heterosexual.
(BONUS CHARLES MUDEDE ITEM: When Charles was 25 years old, he met a woman, she took him home, and in the course of the night he pissed the bed. The kicker: He hadn’t even been drinking.)
This concludes this evening’s self-mockery. Let the mockery from others begin.
Teachers: make Slog part of your curriculum.