We’re back! After a brief hiatus, we returned to the mics to talk about lives and some fun stories from the past.
Kaity is enjoying the east coast weather and we talked about the changing of the seasons. I’m gearing up for the baseball season and much happier with the plan for the business this year. Kaity is sore because she did a workout and I’m sore because I got a massage from a male masseuse and was too much of a pussy to tell him he was hurting me.
BAKED GOODS ARE OFTEN SEEN as comforting. The brownies made by Mary Jane Rathbun definitely fit that description. In 1996, the New York Times compared Rathbun to the domestic goddesses of American pop culture: Betty Crocker, Mrs. Field, Sara Lee. But Rathbun’s secret ingredient was cannabis. And instead of selling baking mix, Rathbun spent years campaigning for the legalization of medical marijuana, helping establish San Francisco at the forefront. It wasn’t long before she was known as “Brownie Mary,” a foul-mouthed friend to those affected by AIDS.
Full article here
Arnold the Troll
A guy came in and said he wanted to learn a new technique in posing; the old ones he’d already perfected. So I had him pose for me and the guy looked like an idiot. So I said, ‘Okay, if you think you’re a good poser now, I’m going to make you much better’ — and make you look like a bigger idiot.
“So I told the guy that the new system in posing is to scream while you’re posing. And he said, ‘How does this work?’ And I said, ‘It’s obviously a secret. It’s from America. Whoever does it first in Europe will obviously be the winner of many contests.’
“He got oiled up — a big mess — and I said, ‘The lower your hands are in a pose, the lower you have to scream, and the higher your hands are over your head, the higher you have to scream.’”
He growls —”Oooooh-aaaaiee!” — then goes on.
“The guy said, ‘That sounds kind of impressive. That really will let people know that you’re up there.’ So I trained the guy for two days, and a week later was the Mr. Munich contest. And I told him that he should swear not to tell anybody, because I was afraid somebody would tell him, ‘You’re stupid.’”
He continues, conspiratorially. “So he promises, and the Mr. Munich contest comes around. I told him that he should run out with a loud scream. And he ran out, dripping with oil, and started screaming, ‘Oooooh-aaaaaiee!’ with weird eyes.
“They pulled him off the stage and drove him away. They took it so seriously. He kept screaming, ‘Arnold! Help! They don’t understand me!’ He came back a week later and said, ‘What happened?’ And I said, ‘They weren’t educated enough.’
“I only do that when a guy’s really an asshole. If somebody comes to me and says, ‘Arnold, I really need help,’ I will take the time and sit down with the guy and put him on the program that will definitely help.
“But if somebody comes to me and says, ‘I have the best routine and, as a matter of fact, I’m stronger than you are, and I have bigger arms than you, but I want them to be much bigger . . . How do I do it?’ — then he can be 100% sure that I will fuck him up.”