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Stay off the sidewalk!
Location: Oklahoma City, OK
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The Unsexy List
From http://www.nerve.com/regulars/quickies/unsexy/- Lip liner. To paraphrase David Cross: "Lip liner makes your mouth look like an asshole. You're talking and I'm imagining six different types of shit coming out of your mouth."
- Instant messaging.
j_dunlevy_69: so do u want to go out with me?
a_m_b_e_r_4_e_v_e_r: Of course!
a_m_b_e_r_4_e_v_e_r: I don't get to go out of the house very much.
j_dunlevy_69: me neither
a_m_b_e_r_4_e_v_e_r: My dad is so crazy!
j_dunlevy_69: do u even mind that i am 19?
a_m_b_e_r_4_e_v_e_r: No way! But he might
a_m_b_e_r_4_e_v_e_r: He will not allow me to have a boyfriend.
j_dunlevy_69: why?
a_m_b_e_r_4_e_v_e_r: He says my womb must be kept pure.
j_dunlevy_69: do u think that also?
a_m_b_e_r_4_e_v_e_r: I don't know. He is very religious and stuff.
- Office cubicles. The ultimate in sexual frustration: a tiny little room too private to flirt with your neighbor and too public to pleasure yourself.
- Match.com personals. Fun-loving gal, 42, likes long walks on the beach, long Sunday afternoons at Linens 'n' Things, bridge . . . PLEASE KILL ME.
- Lord of the Rings. The movies are fine, but did you know that if you read the trilogy three times in a year you actually get your virginity back?
- Denise Richards. Sexy two years ago, but now looks like she's been ridden hard and hung out wet.
- Nu Metal. Musical genre or soundtrack for gang rape? The debate continues. As fads go, makes goth look positively sensible.
- Teddies. One time, a girl surprised us by wearing a satin teddy to bed. We excused ourselves to the bathroom and had a little cry.
- Livejournal. How I'm feeling: bored. Song stuck in my head: "Raspberry Beret." Air of mystery that once surrounded me: gone.
- Star diets. Has anyone seen the other half of Beyonce Knowles, Kate Winslet, or Christina Ricci? 'Cause it left with all the good parts.
- Drinks with "sexy" names. Bar patrons who order a "screaming orgasm," "sex on the beach," "blow job," or "long slow screw against the wall" are 77% less likely to get laid than the ones drinking beer. Wonder why.
- Heath Ledger. They fussed over him a while ago, but he just looks like your older cousin's dumb metal boyfriend from 1987.
- Ashton Kutcher. Okay, the backlash started already, but it still hasn't been publicly pointed out that his neck is thicker than his head. Shit like that was genetically selected against a million years ago.
- Fan fiction. That gangbang between the Backstreet Boys and the cast of Buffy is much hotter in your head than on your website. Please keep it there.
- Pilates. Yoga minus the kinky contortions. There are better ways to spend an hour on your back.
- Jenny from the block. Forget the "real" J-Lo. We'd rather fuck the one who demands white candles and 450,000-thread-count sheets in her hotel room.
- Valium. It gained fame as the drug that kept Donna Reed fem-bots from having nervous breakdowns and burning the roast. Except you're not cute like Donna Reed. You're just slurring your speech. Stop it.
- Your cats. Attachment to a non-human mammal that doesn't give a fuck about you bespeaks emotional damage. It's the kind that transforms you from "alluringly quirky" to "certifiable."
- Little digital cameras on your cell phone. These are for taking dirty pictures and posting them online, not for snapping your fully clothed friends in bars. When will the populace understand this?
- Television. Despite the amount of reality raunch on the small screen, "Come over and watch a movie" is always going to be more of a jeans-loosener than "come over and watch TV."
- Over-grooming. Being clean and neat is good. People appreciate a white smile and trimmed fingernails. If you're spending time and money getting your asshole bleached, step back for a sec.
- Perfume/cologne. A throwback from a time when people didn't wash.
- Continentals. Everything sounds sexy with an outrageous accent. Sure, whatever they say seems profound, but that's because their 300-word vocabulary was gleaned entirely from Doors records. Context, people!
- The movie Unfaithful. Case in point. Only archetypal soccer moms get hot and bothered by the idea of an unkempt Gallic type who speaks in prose. Yuck!
- Stillettoes. Exactly 87% of women who wear them hobble around like newborn foals.
- Martini glasses. By the time you drag your Cosmo or sidecar across the bar, there's 40% less liquid in it.
- Food — particularly oysters — as aphrodisiacs. Funny how all these vaguely genital-esque foods happen to be culinary Spanish Fly. "It kind of looks like a lady's naughty part!" he says. "Mmmm ... I'm eating it as if it were a big glob of come," she replies. "Perhaps we should go and do it!" they say and promptly leave the raw bar. A load of posh nonsense.
- Smoking fetishes. Blowing smoke rings is a neat trick. So is the "French inhale." As for people who jerk off while thinking about this, in the same way that foot fetishists graduate to shoe fetishism, do cig pervs end up worshipping emphysema?
- All-over tans. Frequently accompanied by a clean-shaved pubic region, a pot belly and a NASCAR visor. A deep-tanned penis looks like a dry-cured meat snack you bought at a gas station. Tan lines — hot!
- Coldplay. The new Portishead. By this, we mean they make wayyyyy overplayed sex music, the audio equivalent of a party van or bearskin rug. Like mad cow disease, Chris Martin's songs seep into your head and slowly mutilate your DNA until your brain is soup.
- Candles. Another lame sexual accoutrement handed down from our parents' generation, like Kenny G and bubble bath. Some company must market these items in combination as the Hot Lover's Fun Pak. Probably with a silk scarf and an ice-cube tray.
- Tongue Rings. You having a tongue ring in 2003 is like us prancing around in eight-ball jackets. After four drinks you'll slur that it makes oral sex feel amazing. It doesn't!
- Lower-back tattooes. Lately, it seems that if there's no faux-Celtic design between your low-rise jeans and your baby tee, something's missing. Recently, we've been seeing girls with their names in thug font in that place. Must save a lot of awkwardness.
- Burning Man. Thirty-five-year-old men with frattoos and goatees trek into the desert in search of hippie poontang. "Dude! Naked chicks!" By way of preparation, they throw on a String Cheese Incident CD (and take out the Insane Clown Posse) on the long drive from the Valley.
- Friendster.com. For a few months, it was a secret cute-kid sex party. Then all your exes heard about it. Then Courtney Love got on it. Then strangers started insisting you'd shared some magical experience with them outside Tuscaloosa. You told them you'd never been to Tuscaloosa and that they must have the wrong person. Then they told you your pet hamster’s name from when you were five and you started shaking.
- Employment. People always talk about "becoming their job," which is the most heinous thing ever.
- Headgear Trends. Trucker hats, paperboy caps and sweatbands look ridiculous on anyone other than truckers, paper boys and Bjorn Borg in 1976. You can be funny, but not with your head.
- Lead guitarists. Girls have THINGS for bassists, THINGS for drummers. But do you know anyone with a THING for lead guitarists? No. Too often, they cross the line between cocky and desperate.
- Novelty hip-hop. Clever modernist lit references + killer hook = suck. If Derrida and the RZA were meant for each other, they would have figured it out by now on their own. They're both smarter than us.
- Ann Coulter. Oh, look! Psychotic neo-Nazi tendencies and pretty hair! Isn't that cute? No. And think about it: it's not hard to be the belle of the conservative-pundit ball when all the other guests are Rush Limbaugh.
- Flavored lube. If God wanted us to taste like kiwi, he would have made us kiwis. (Also applicable to lip gloss.)
- The Mile High Club. You hear a lot about horny, uncreative couples ducking into airplane restrooms together. What you don’t hear about are sprained knees, the smell of disinfectant, and the very real possibility of being sucked through the toilet to your death.
- Blogging about your sex life. People who do this are under two delusions: a) that everyone wants to fuck them, and b) that their writing is interesting. Which is worse: sexual megalomania or an inability to edit? It's a dead heat. The online equivalent of that excruciatingly monotonous blowjob scene in every porn movie ever made.
- Planned sex marathons. "Dude, we got a hotel room and didn't come out for three days!" This never happens. Even if it does, it's not cool.
- Kim Cattrall. We’re all for women retaining sex appeal after forty, fifty, sixty, or whatever. What we are not for: actresses displaying their identity crises by wearing bright green minidresses to the Video Music Awards while snarling supposedly seductive things about 50 Cent.
- Craigslist Casual Encounters (www.craigslist.org). The anonymously exposed deepest desires of urban youth. Mostly for hand jobs and Vicodin, always misspelled.
- Teenagers. The aspirational age of our society is about sixteen. But a smoking-in-the-girls-room, fucking-in-the-backseat sixteen. Not a bra-strap-snapping, zit-popping, handing-in-math-homework-late sixteen. Market your lite beer however you want to market your lite beer, but know this: real teenagers are kind of gross.
- Pot. Many people will go on and on about how great stoned sex is. If by “sex,” you mean “eating saltines and watching infomercials,” then you're absolutely right!
- Man jewelry (any). Once, Carrie got with this guy who wore his grandfather’s old Russian war medal on a chain around his neck. It was meaningful and tasteful, but all she could think about during sex was Tony Danza. We're just saying . . .
- The Internet. All those people. All that porn. All that time. Nothing you can touch.
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