I have to buy a Playboy. Due in large part to the Internet, no one buys dirty books any more unless you're an weird old guy who doesn't have a computer. But I really need to see the content of Playboy and I don't feel like starting an online account with Hef and the Girls Next Door. So during my endless walk of the earth, I decide to stop at The Only Place Left In The World That Sells Dirty Magazines (they also sell beer and wine and the good beef jerky). I go in and go directly to the dirty book rack and scan the titles. There is one Playboy: June 2006. I don't want June 2006, I want January 2007.
Clearly, I have to interact with the counter guy.
He is ruggedly good looking and looks way familiar, but I can't quite place him. "Do you have the latest Playboy?" I ask.
"No I sure don't," he says. I'm embarrassed, but also hopeful that he would find me intriguing because I am in search of a Playboy, which he advised I might find at the store down the street thereby nixing the title of The Only Place Left In The World That Sells Dirty Magazines. I turn to leave, notice a few Free Times (in which a couple of letters about one of my columns are printed this week) and pick one up. I place it on the counter and open it to my column.
"I'm the Rainy Day Woman," I say coyly.
"Oh, really?" he says, picking up the magazine. I take two extra copies for myself, and say to the ruggedly good looking guy who looks familiar* and is now surely intrigued by me because I'm a Girl Columnist in search of a Playboy, "Happy New Year," then whoosh out the door.
I know the guy who runs the store down the street. He has the Playboy. I buy it. We chat, during which I explain that I'm buying the Playboy because I write a column and intriguing Girl Columnists have to do shit like that. He remarks that he also has the Free Times and that it is a popular publication.
I advise him to inform all patrons that pick up a Free Times that Erin O'Brien the intriguing Girl Columnist buys her Playboys from this very establishment.
"Yeah, man."
I have now walked five miles and have one more to go before I get home. Of course, I see a neighbor and he stops to chat as well. He asks me where I'm working since I gave up my job at the local paper. I tell him the Free Times.
He looks at the two Free Times bundled in my hand (the Playboy is properly hidden within). He is obviously interested and there is an unspoken awkwardness. Why won't I give him a Free Times? I've got two and after all, they're free.
But I don't want Pam Anderson's glory spilling out all over the place (someone should tell that girl that wearing a panty that features a blazing sequined dollar sign over your zorch is demeaning--honest, but demeaning). So I just sort of end the conversation and walk the rest of the way home, where I relish the satisfying sound of the plastic cover crinkling for a moment or two before ripping it open. I do stop to find the hidden bunny on the cover before going directly to the dirty pictures.
Silly little broads.
*It later dawned on me that he looked like the guy who used to teach my kid Tae Kwon Do. I'm not sure if it was him or not.
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21 comments:
I too buy Playboy for the articles.
Mariah Carey (sp?) is supposed to do March 2007
Like be the whatever...Covergirl thing (?) so outta the loop!
Jeez!
Just gimme some adultfriendfinder.com
Now that is raunchy!
(smile)
Playboy hasn't been the same since they stopped airbrushing out all the Pumblechook Hair.
Well, after that one letter, you should really buy a copy of The Prophet.
I don't think I had bought a Playboy in like 20 years, but I bought the same one you did because I got a $50 gift certificate to Barnes & Noble for Xmas and could not think of anything else to buy. (After stuff like 3 new novels and the magazines that I REALLY buy, like Esquire and Maxim.)
Whoever said, "I just buy it for the articles" was one lowbrow mother******. The articles really sucked.
Even the pictures sucked. The women that grace the insides of the covers--well, I have done way way worse, but they are not even sexy because they are airbrushed and photoshopped so much they are about as alluring as the mannequins in JC Penny. (I take that back; the mannequins are sexier because they would not make fun of my car or tell me I'm old enough to be their dad...)
While I am on the subject (Things that suck), being an 82-year-old man who lives in a house with a bunch of party animal/moochers would be the depths of suckiness, IMHO, but one man's trash is another man's treasure.
Think about it--it's a house built by Playboy--where you have fifty-plus roomates 365, 24/7 who will steal your Playboy...only now you are 82 and not 19 and not as gregarious as you used to be...
ahh how i love pamela anderson
did you know that the energy expended by gentlemen whacking it to her picture is the equivalent of ten hydrogen bombs
a powerful tool of satan is she
as are you obrien
when faced with temptation
succumb
What I miss most about Playboy is the Christmas issue that has the cartoons in which Santa gets all kinds of ass.
I only bought a Playboy once, when I was like 20. It was the Christmas season and the girl who checked me out was totally evil to me. Never bought 'em again (and I'd stolen 'em prior).
I read my first Kurt Vonnegut story ever in Playboy.Ironically it was the story from Welcome To The Monkeyhouse which is about death parlors and the old geezers that have to be helped to leave life by the nubile young hostesses that attend them. I've been a lifelong Vonnegut fan ever since. Haven't cracked a Playboy in years.
In those days I didn't have to buy them, my parents thought it an innocuous enough magazine that we were free to read it as teens.
I just love The Girls Next Door. I don't watch religiously but catch it when I can. Can't decide if Hugh knows his youngest girlfriend is gay or just doesn't care.
Happy New Year, Erin!
PLayboy online has a feature called "cyber girl of the week", and in these photo sets, they seem to airbrush away the vaginal fold. What I'm saying is that if there is a picture of a naked woman standing up, facing forward with her legs together, the "slot" has been smoothed over so that she looks like a barbie doll. No hint of a cooch whatsoever.
That is so amazingly creepy I have sworn off Playboy in all of its various forms.
There goes that "zorch" again. I put it to you (heh heh) that if it's that heavily airbrushed you can't call it a zorch.
And while I'm here, I have to say that it's pretty cool you have a blog that both Satan and Jesus (toast, anyway) post in. Sofa king cool, I'd say, sofa queen.
The chicks in Playboy are about as real as $3 bills. There is nothing remotely erotic about them because nobody looks like that.
Nobody.
As for the articles, the interviews are pretty good.
Knock, knock. Anybody home?
being a drunk PDD I am not sure if it was him either. But I must say, I do enjoy a dirty mag every once in a while.
I effin love satan and his comments. ahhahaha.
They airbrush out the cooters in playboy.
Denny: I've always wondered what you've got that Hef hasn't.
Toby: It ain't for the pix, I can tell you that.
~d: I am so out of the loop, girl. But I'm gonna start getting back on it by going to that site.
Elisson: Pumblechook Hair. Is that a Canadian term or something?
Zen: I agree with your every assertion. The women of Playboy today are awful, just awful.
Satan: Yes sir!
Merk: Aw shit! that guy in the red hat and suit SWORE he was my husband!
Malnurtured Snay: I love your name.
Jozee: That Kendra broad is about as charming as a case of venereal warts.
Jesus: It's as though they want to erase the animalistic suggestion of genitalia. You're right, very, very creepy.
Norm: We do not discriminate based on religion here at the Owner's Manual. We got good. We got evil. We got Toast.
Hal: Call those effers up and tell them to interview me!
Dirk: I'm here, baby. Silly things like life and work keep interfering with my blog! It ain't fair, I tell you! It just ain't fair!
PDD: I hadn't bought one in ages. The internet is negating all of our filthy old habits. At least now we don't have to leave the house.
Bostick: Lay flat on your back. Inhale through your nose and exhale from your mouth. Think of pastel colors and cascading light. Getting an erection is allowed, masturbation is not. For further information, see the administrator. Do not discuss these directives with anyone.
(gosh, why do I love you?)
That's what I'm sayin
i only masturbate to the articles.
You know my opinion of Playboy. Or at least I hope you do.
Still, DAMN I'd love to place a story there. "I placed a story in that mag full of plastic chix with no fiddly bits!" I'd say. And I'd cackle all the way to the bank.
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