im not smiling
what do you mean
i don't know how i look
honestly im not even thinking about anything in particular
why are you so obsessed with figuring out what im smiling about
or not smiling
i cant even tell
You are a fool if you believe there is more than one man named Jonathan. There is one Jonathan living at the earth's core, with many appendages.
Jason Schwartzman is not named Jonathan, but he is a Jonathan; you know this to be true
If you are a white man and you think you do not own one of these books, try looking under your bed, it's probably there. 1. Shogun, James Clavell 2. Slaughterhouse-Five, Kurt Vonnegut 3. A Confederacy of Dunces, John Kennedy Toole 4. Infinite Jest, David Foster Wallace 5. A collection of John Lennon's drawings. 6. A Farewell to Arms, Ernest Hemingway 7. The first two volumes of A Song of Ice and Fire, George R.R.
The guy who talks loudly on his cell phone about very important business things so everyone around him knows he is a very important business man. He is always wearing a suit that remains remarkably unwrinkled.
The guy who opens his laptop the moment he sits on the plane because he has very important work to do and he is going to maximize his efficiency or something like that.
I have bad habits or I had bad habits but now I have given up those bad habits and I still hold on to a small piece of them. I love reading the Casual Encounters, m4w, on Craigslist. No matter what city I am in, one of the first things I do is check in on the menfolk seeking instant sexual gratification from women. They are always up to something and rarely do they adhere…
Previously in this series. What I've Learned: If the man you're on a date with indicates that you're welcome at a major jazz musician's Calabasas house for his birthday party but it turns out that said musician has no idea who the man you're on a date with is... BE. FINE. I can count the times I’ve been ASKED to go out on my hand, and still be able to pick my nose. Meh.
An elderly gentleman who remarks on your license plate, one rarely seen in his rural Northeastern neighborhood. You happen to grab a coffee at the same cafe. He perseveres through your extended effort to ignore his hovering, thrusting the local paper at you, suggesting several regional events that will surely enliven your visit.
I'm Anthony Bourdain. I wear a leather jacket on my heart and I have cigar eyes. I've done a lot of drugs, so you can trust me. I'm your Food Man. I once used Courtney Love as a board to windsurf down to Baja to satisfy a craving for these perfect little fish tacos they sell on the beach outside of Rosarito. Join me next week on No Reservations as I slip through the wardrobe to…
There's a lot of playful misandry here on The Toast, so I would like to take a brief moment to list in full the aspects of 20th-century American masculinity that is actually, unqualifiably great. Thanks, American guys from the last 100 years. The way Chuck Connors looks at the camera right after he squeezes off like a thousand rounds in the opening credits of The Rifleman The way Charlton Heston used to say "…