Jugs and kisses


#507 Camgirls

Picture this: a site on the Internet where you can actually see naked ladies.

And I’m not talking about prerecorded videos. I’m talking about live, interactive real-time video of ladies taking their clothes off in living colour.

Normally, you have to whip out a credit card to see some of that live naked lady action. But occasionally, just occasionally, if you wait patiently enough, one of them will decide for no reason to give you a show for free.

Instantly, you’re transported back to a more innocent time when there was no on-demand nudity, when naked boobs came only in fleeting, tantalizing glimpses, after waiting patiently through an incomprehensible late-night movie on the French channel, through the scrambled flickering on the pay-per-view station, on a faded scrap of magazine page blown upon the wind through the forest.

Titillation is again a random roll of the dice. Every nipple is a gift. Your childhood innocence, long thought lost, is restored.


* * *

Tonight was the official launch party for The Book of Awesome, the new book by my pal Neil Pasricha, the Mirror Universe Andy Rooney and the writer of the award-winning blog 1000 Awesome Things. Fully expecting to be called up onstage from the audience to be embarrassed by Neil’s heartfelt declarations about how he couldn’t have achieved without my support and how I was the meaning in his life and the inspiration and other thoughts plagiarized from Peter Cetera, I duded myself up in my best duds and sauntered down to the event.

The place was a madhouse, if a polite, orderly one. Because Neil’s website-turned-book is perhaps best described as a funnier Chicken Soup for the Soul (or perhaps a shorter, more illiterate Remembrance of Things Past for Dummies), it appeals to both the middlebrow and the hausfrau and has an enormous potential audience, many of whom eagerly formed an actual audience to see Neil read from the book, sign their copies, and engage in a lively discussion with Indigo CEO Heather Reisman.

Finding the event in progress on the lower level, I was brusquely ordered away from the stairway area by a security guard who looked like a husky Jon Stewart. Seeing one of our former co-writers from our old satirical campus rag, and pretending not to see another one who was pretending not to see me, I waved at the former then blended into the crowd and listened.

As Neil spoke, index cards were distributed, with audience members directed to write down some of their favorite awesome things. Thinking that the cards were to be collected and read aloud by Neil, I briefly scribbled a truncated version of the above paean to camgirls. Then, Neil asked the audience to exchange cards with a neighbour and picked volunteers to read the cards aloud. As the volunteers began reading chicken soupy thoughts such as “fresh bread”, “clouds shaped like better clouds”, and “finding a rerun of the Facts of Life guest-starring that mentally retarded stand-up comic”, I hurriedly shoved my card into my pocket.

The discussion ended, and a line formed for book signings. This meant that I had to buy a copy if I wanted to say hello to Neil. He’d likely have been happy to sign my crumpled index card, but Husky Jon Stewart would want to see a book in hand. However—and Neil would appreciate this—I am cheap.

In fact, I recently received a cheque for sixty-five cents and actually bothered to deposit it instead of just throwing it away like a sensible person would do. The ATM didn’t even believe me at first when I entered the amount;  “Oh, you mean sixty-five dollars,” it said. I shamefully reassured the machine of the amount, then trudged home in shame to double my money by steaming the stamp off the envelope.

Knowing I was exactly this cheap, I figured when I discovered a forgotten Chapters/Indigo gift card in my wallet (forgotten because I usually just take books out of the library like a cheapskate), I assumed that I’d been hanging on to it because it probably had around a dollar remaining on it from a previous purchase. To my amazement, however, it completely covered the cost of the book, with twenty-six dollars to spare. As Neil would say, awesome.

In fact, what a crestfallen-looking Neil did in fact later say when told of this was, “I don’t still get the money from that, do I?” I want to point out here that Neil holds an MBA from Harvard and yet somehow doesn’t quite grasp how gift cards work.

By the time I actually got there to disappoint him, of course, I’d been standing in line for an eternity and was getting testy. As I waited, an Indigo employee worked his way through the line, affixing Post-It notes with each person’s name on the title page of his or her copy of the book to assist Neil with the signing process, but as the employee reached me, I bellowed, “Oh, he knows who I am. I’m the one who he stole the idea for this book from!”

This is of course not true, and I forgot to apologize to Neil for the slander when I reached him. Yet, as impatient as I was and as crestfallen as he might have been, we were still more or less delighted to see each other, and he gladly signed my copy with a phrase that caused a minor hullabaloo among the readers of one of his recent posts: Jugs and kisses.

Back at you, Neil. And seriously, that camgirl entry? It’s yours for the taking.

Buy Neil’s book.

7 Responses to “Jugs and kisses”

  1. 1 Adrienne

    You must tell me which Has-Beens you mean, Lynn. Some of us are stuck in the National Capital and no longer get invited to book launches. Not that I’m bitter. I prefer to think of myself as Umami-Adjacent.

  2. 2 Matt

    Bah! If anything, I’m the one who he stole the idea for the book from.

    (This is equally and abundantly not true, of course. In fact, it ought to be pointed out that when Neil found about the less funny, far more anonymous blog I’d been doing, he actually took the time to write me up and apologize for doing something similar, as if I’d invented the number one thousand or list-based comedy. That’s Neil for you.)

    (Also, good lord, I wish I’d invented list-based comedy. Holding the patent on something like that is probably the only way to actually turn a profit with internet humour.)

  3. 3 Matt

    By the way, you did kind of really nail his style with the camgirl entry. Nicely done.

  4. @Adrienne: Did you know they’ve found a taste bud for fat? I think that officially ties with salt as my favourite. One of the Has-Beens I saw was Sofi. I can’t remember the name of the other.

    @Matt: Just wait until I parody your style. I’m already hard at work on the definitive post about side satchels as we speak.

  5. 5 Soapy

    I think we aaaallllll know who the real Neil Pasricha is, Peter Lynn. Or should I say, Pasricha Lynn?

  6. 6 Soapy

    (No I shouldn’t, because that is not an accurate statement)

  7. 7 Peter Lynn

    Soapy, I was just talking about you today. I was telling my girlfriend about a prank phone call I once made to you to which you responded with the threat “I’ll strike you down!” It occurs to me now that I need to start using this line on telemarketers.

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