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by Danny Cross 10.22.2009
Posted In: Life, Culture at 12:50 PM | Permalink | Comments (1)
 
 

Saturday at Grammer's: NEIN ON NINE!

Most of us can agree that this Issue 9 business has become a total mess. If passed, this charter amendment won’t necessarily stop the streetcar line from being constructed, but it will force a vote before city leaders can spend money on it. It will also force votes on all other rail spending — including regional high-speed trains that Barack Obama wants built. Issue 9 is anti-Obama!

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by Jen Lee 08.14.2009
Posted In: Life at 12:40 PM | Permalink | Comments (18)
 
 

Don't Hate on the Nati

As someone who was born and raised in Cincinnati, I naturally spent my whole life wanting to get the hell out of here.

I hated that there was nothing to do on Friday nights except go to the movies, bake cookies or eat lettuce wraps at PF Changs. I hated the schizo weather (70 and sunny one day, 30 and snowing the next: just another week in Ohio). I hated the predominantly conservative mindset, the maddening monotonity of the suburbs, the city’s aversion to all things new and different. I hated that you only had to drive 10 minutes in any direction to land in a sea of cornfields. And I hated Cincinnati’s dangerous proximity to Kentucky, where odious mullets and high-waisted denim shorts continue their ruthless and tyrannical reign. 

In short, I pretty much spent my entire life blaming my unfortunate geographic placement for all my problems. So when it came time for college applications, it was a no-brainer: I submitted my test scores, sappy personal essays and record of every nap I took in calculus to seven out-of-state schools — and just one in-state school.

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by Andy Brownfield 08.06.2009
Posted In: Life at 04:15 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)
 
 

Pull Something Cool

I just found out that tractor pulls aren’t nearly as cool as I thought they were. I, being a city boy, had no idea what they were all about. Turns out, a tractor pull involves a tractor — get this — pulling shit.  

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Now, correct me if I’m wrong, like I said, I’m just a poor city boy, but isn’t that what tractors are supposed to do? Pull shit? And there are 21 different organizations (as recognized by Wikipedia) devoted to this “sport?” I am supremely underwhelmed.  

Forgive me for stereotyping, but I envisioned some big, buff, corn-fed good-old-boy pulling a two-ton tractor with his fucking teeth. Or at least jumping a herd of flaming cattle while Farmer Dan shoots skeet (not that kind of skeet — I mean the one with shotguns and clay pigeons where people yell “pull!” and work out their sexual inadequacies by shooting really big guns). That’s like using a “brass knuckle paperweight” as a paperweight, or Google Image Search to look up something other than porn. I mean, using something for what it is intended for is incredibly passé. I’m boycotting all state and county fairs until they make tractor pulls significantly more awesome.

- In other news, Americans take their Harry Potter very seriously. If you’ve ever been to a midnight book release or showing of one of the movies, you know what I’m talking about.  Hundreds of virgins enthusiasts dressed up as their favorite magical persons, directly flouting the authority of the Holy See and all of those other people who want to destroy my childhood.

But the British … don’t fuck with the British when it comes to their favorite angsty, sexually repressed, greasy, hung-like-a-grape (yeah, I saw Equus. Or at least the pictures. What? I was curious!) national hero. In Britain, across the pond, where they speak the queen’s English and actually think Hugh Grant is a good actor, some punk kid (no doubt a greasy, angst-ridden teenager who identified with our pasty-faced hero) threw bleach on a woman, harshly burning her for “disrespecting” him during the newest movie. Apparently she was telling him to be quiet for making out too loudly with his girlfriend (left hand).  

- Speaking of sexually repressed, Vladimir Putin is fucking buff. In a flashback to the Cold War, after seeing online photos of President Obama shirtless, Former Russian President Vladimir Putin engaged in his own version of one-upmanship by displaying his (old ass) weapons of mass destruction in shirtless photos from his vacation. The photos included Putin fishing, riding a horse and chilling by a stream. The Times Online reported that, “The photos will inevitably trigger mass swooning by women all over Russia — as well as unfavourable comparisons of their husbands to Mr. Putin’s manly physique. They will also confirm the Russian Prime Minister’s status as a gay icon.” America quickly responded with “our president could beat up your former president and shadowy-seat-of-power-behind-the-current-administration.”

Image: A tractor trying really hard to do what it was built to do. 

 
 
by Andy Brownfield 07.15.2009
Posted In: Life at 12:58 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)
 
 

You Disgust Me

I spent the last week in Mexico and I realized two things: A) I have a freakish inability to tan. I mean, seriously, if it’s possible, I left Mexico whiter than when I arrived. And Two) somebody needs to regulate the sale of skimpy bathing suits.

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by Alice Blaney 06.24.2009
Posted In: Life at 01:40 PM | Permalink | Comments (1)
 
 

The Real Housewives of Cincinnati

So I have to admit, I’m pretty obsessed with all the Real Houswives shows on Bravo TV. Laugh all you want, but turn that shit on and it becomes addicting.

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by Hannah McCartney 06.15.2009
Posted In: Life, Dating at 02:29 PM | Permalink | Comments (1)
 
 

Craigslist Crusades

I admit it. I am a Craigslist addict. The first step to recovery is admitting you have a problem, right?

It started back in April while I was still at college. My friend Ashley and I began scheming to find an apartment to share in Cincy for the summer, dreading living under parental control after a year of complete freedom in college.

Before class, I began checking the “apartments” listings all over Cincinnati, constantly searching for a cheaper, cooler, better place to rent.

That lasted for a while. As the school year came to a close, I started thinking about how much I needed to find a summer job / make money before heading back to Ohio.

So my addiction magnified.

Almost every day, I checked the job postings. Before I knew it, I found myself skimming stuff like the “manufacturing” and “systems/network” job postings, even though I fully knew I a) lacked any smidgeon of qualification b) had absolutely no interest in working in a peanut processing plant c) had no clue what the hell systems/network even meant.

Then came the [ETC] category. One of my personal favorites. I started looking here when my job search was failing and I realized how desperate I was for money. The [ETC] listings contain every odd job you could dream up. Fluent in Thai? Want to iron shirts for cash? Mow lawns? Teach tantra? Somebody wants to pay you.

I couldn’t help myself—I kept checking the [ETC] listings to see if I qualified to participate in a dish soap research study or maybe a coffee drinker focus group.

Then came the best part. The missed connections. I can’t even remember how I wandered over to the personals sections. Curiosity is the only reasonable explanation.

Previously, my primary sources of internet humor were textsfromlastnight.com and fmylife.com. But the missed connections were better because they were never really intended to be funny in the first place. Call me a cynic, but it seems like a bit more than wishful thinking to hope that that sexy Wal-mart cashier was checking you out, too, and wandered over to Craigslist just hoping you’d confess your longing in poetic prose. Kind of like this one: “We exchanged eye contact that was fraught with attraction, anxiety, curiosity, longing, despair, hopelessness, hopefulness, an urge to say hi and an urge to say "stop looking at me.’”

Or maybe this one: “’Oh Starbucks barista girl at the 4th and Vine location... how in love am I with you? Let me count the ways… ‘Chocolate frappacino’ you gently said as you slammed the cup to the counter without even looking up... I imagine cartoon hearts must have shot out of my spine and into the air.”

If the missed connections section of Craigslist has taught me anything, I’ve learned that there are a whole slew of romance novelists in Cincinnati just waiting to be discovered. People are so optimistic; they take time to write these postings just hoping it will be read in time for them to reignite that flame kindled in a parking lot, coffee shop, whatever.

I am fully aware of how incredibly dorky/pathetic it is that I have wasted so much time on Craigslist. But I don’t care. Reading the classifieds is a great source for procrastination, humor and insight into the genuine hopes/dreams/hallucinations of people all over the ‘Nati.

Go check out Craigslist. Just not the creepy sections. Who knows, maybe you really did catch the eye of that super cute waiter/librarian/barista. Or maybe you can make a quick $50 for participating in a left-handed research study. It’s all gold.


 
 
by Maija Zummo 05.11.2009
Posted In: Life at 10:02 AM | Permalink | Comments (1)
 
 

Texts from Last Night

(408): hey, what are you doing? my roommates are gone for the night... you should come over ;)

(650): nah, i'm gonna grab some food

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by Maija Zummo 04.06.2009
Posted In: Life at 03:56 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)
 
 

Photos from GRASS

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Click the photo above to see Scott Beseler's images from this weekend's GRASS event.

 
 
by Maija Zummo 03.31.2009
Posted In: Life at 03:30 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)
 
 

Grass

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Grass is officially the greatest idea ever. It's a "crafty carnival circus party" where you can see how talented and creative your friends are.

Be proud of them and of Cincinnati. Buy things. Drink beer. Eat pizza. Watch some flicks. And dance to the Lions Rampant and DJ INDIANgiver.

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by Caleb Mathern 03.24.2009
Posted In: Life at 07:01 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)
 
 

Mom vs. Gorilla vs. Booze vs. PROJECTMILL

It’s 6:30 a.m. Friday morning. I find myself staring into my reflection at the Econo Lodge’s employees-only lobby bathroom watching blood pour from my nose and drip all over the sink, diffusing into the water and I ask myself, “How did I get here?” Looking to the floor I admire still more of my blood, peppered across the white tile. I feel scandalous.

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