Virtual Flaneurism

Warning: this video's audio is so incredibly NOT SAFE FOR WORK that even I wouldn't watch it at work. And I watched it at work.

Let me be upfront: if you are in even the tinest way whatsoever prude, you will be grossed out by this video. And I pity you.

If you are a degenerate like me you will laugh and laugh and laugh at this video, laugh until your boss comes in and you have to lie and say you were watching a cat video and then your boss will ask to see the cat video but you'll be unable to show him the cat video because you were watching David Franco dirty talk McLovin not a cat video and then he will look at you all quizzical like and you will both frown and go back to work but don't kid yourself, there will be an awkwardness there, a horrible, soul-penetrating awkwardness of someone knowing that you lied, an awkwardness that makes you frightened to use the bathroom lest you run into your boss and have to talk about inane things when all he really wants to talk about is what you were actually watching on your computer and you just want to go to the bathroom because you've been sort of chugging water at your desk lately you know to keep better hydrated for kidney health and well after all it's summer too and it's getting hot outside and I mean you really can't drink too much water and then your boss finally lets you go to the bathroom but as you go he makes some joke about getting a litter box for your office and you know that's a reference to the cat video but you don't care because god damn it you've been fucking holding your pee for like fifteen minutes and that's totally counteracting all the good you're doing your kidneys by drinking all the god damn water.

Enjoy!

From Jonathan:

Oldie but goodie:

Last night my roommate Erin and I attempted to go to a Yellow Ostrich concert near our apartment. In typical fuck-up fashion, we managed to mix up the order of bands and walked through the doors as the band finished their set. To make up for this epic fail we bartered with the lead vocalist over band t-shirts and then flirt-pestered him until he told us the cross-streets of where he lived in Brooklyn. Erin also managed to score a pair of free tallboys from a middle-aged Indian bartender and then fretted for a good twenty minutes about whether she'd inadvertently sold him her body. These are the days of our lives, people.

I hate to report half-news, but it seems like the big hullabaloo of the day is the partially-confirmed, partially-denied end of Cap'n Crunch cereal.

This local ABC affiliate states that the cereal, targeted by Michelle Obama for carrying about half of a child's recommended daily sugar intake, is kaputt. Of course, it's a local news affiliate, so take anything they say with a grain of I guess there were no drive bys to report on.

This advertising article, clearly another source I'll be citing to in my law briefs, claims the opposite: they attest that Quaker assured them first-hand that these boxed teeth-rotters will continue to fester away on supermarket shelves until the second coming of Christ or we all start breathing glucose.

The only thing you should take for certain from these articles? Diane Sawyer doesn't give a shit about Cap'n Crunch.