7% ABV on draught
My Sick, Perverted Fetish
No, it’s not as bad, or perhaps the correct word is as “weird” as BDSM or footjobbing or something hirsute-related, so I suppose my sexual fetish is more akin to dudes that love big asses or big breasts. Let me backtrack for a second. For my entire postpubescent life I have been most attracted to skinny, tall, long blond-haired, big-busted women*. Ha! Aren’t we all, you say? But have I just been kidding myself? Ignoring my true carnal desires? No, I don’t completely think so, but I finally must come out of the closet and admit that, aside from the aforementioned archetypal women, I do have a secret outlier sometime fetish for a certain type:
Big-nosed Jewish gals.
Is it something in my Deoxyribonucleic acid? An ingrained part of my Semitic libido? I’m not sure but I can ignore it no longer lest I be considered a self-hating Hebe.
I no longer can deny that when I’m riding on the subway, sitting across from a big-beaked lady, kinky sidelock-esque hair cascading over her face like the Holy Ark’s curtains shrouding a nasal Torah, yeah, I get a little titillated. And when I’m forced to party in Murray Hill, I may be outwardly smarting, acting vexed at being in the crummy establishment, when I’m secretly a little turned on watching the Toucan-faced recent GW or Michigan grad poorly shaking her gelt-maker to an ironic (or is it?) playing of R. Kelly’s “Ignition.” Or when I’m grabbing some Jewish donuts on a Sunday morning at H & H on the UWS, I can’t help but feel like I’m in line at a Judaic orgy, a slew of sweatsuit and Uggs-clad equine-faced cuties spending their daddy’s shekels on a sack of cinnamon raisins.
Oh lord, Elohim, it’s only getting worse, my desire for these beautiful exotic creatures with their conical goat faces, too poorly bred or raised by too practical (cheap?) of parents to have gotten rhinoplasty for them as a Bat Mitzvah gift. What can a boy do?
I know what you’re saying, “You are an insensitive asshole.” Correct. I know what else you are saying: “How can you like such flawed, if not downright ugly, women?” Well first of all, fella, watch it with the anti-Semititism. Second of all, though, I hear you. I used to feel the same way, sort of. But I believe you may be thinking about the absolute worst of the breed. Those 4′11″ and squat, hippy and big-assed and huge titted, natch**, annoyingly nasal girls with hair like Hurley from “Lost” and a constant scowl on their mugs.
But I’m not talking about those Chosen lasses. No, sir.
I’m talking ’bout Mayim Bialik as Blossom.
I’m talking ’bout Leelee Sobieski, Sarah Silverman, and House’s boss on “House.” Helen Hunt, Sarah Jessica Parker before she started looking like a drag queen (we’re talking “Honeymoon in Vegas” days), and Jennifer Grey in “Dirty Dancing” before she went under the knife and never got booked again. And let’s throw in Soleil Moon Frye for good measure.
It’s feels good to finally admit this, to no longer have to agree with my friends that, yes, she’d be perfect if she just had a normal schnoz. No, she already is perfect!
Finally, I know what you’re thinking, sicko, and, no, I don’t want them to do anything unseemly with their nose whilst in the bedroom, that’s not why I like them.**** It’s just something visceral. Something that can’t fully be explained unless you feel the exact same way I do.
Now I guess I should finally meet one of these dames. I’m heading to my local Hadassah meeting.
Russian River Damnation
My first ever Russian River beer on tap. I’d heard a rumor that Philadelphia was one of the rare cities that would be getting the coveted Pliny the Younger on tap and, finding myself conveniently in town a couple of weeks ago, I had hoped to score some. Scouring the city, however, I came up dry. I did find Damnation, though, at the marvelous Tria and quickly ordered it with no prejudice. Unfortunately, it was not as good as I had hoped and now stands as the first Russian River beer I haven’t unequivocally loved. Thinner than expected and quite mellow. Almost felt like a very weak tripel. Not much taste, not much complexity, light Belgian spiciness, slight sourness, some citrusness. It was closer to “refreshing” than delicious. Not what you want from a 7% Belgian strong ale. Comparing it to Country Time lemonade also is probably not what we’re looking for here. Having said that, the across-the-board reviews of Damnation seem much better than my initial experience so I do hope to try it again.
*And, yes, agreed, you should really like women for what’s inside of them. Sure enough–and you should also probably like a movie for its plot and not how many fiery explosion, scatological jokes, and bits of gratuitous nudity they include.
**Yes, all Jewish women have gargantuan breasts. It’s a stone cold fact. I don’t know why this is, it just is, perhaps something in the Manischewitz, maybe an evolutionary adaptation dating back to the wandering the desert days when it would be quite swell to have two large milk canteens strapped to one’s chest.
***Ibid. And, Holy. Shit.
****Jewish women also have gargantuan sexual appetites. Another empirical fact. I have no explanation for this one either. I welcome theories in the comments.
photo credit: Brian B