We’ve all seen the images of crazed women grabbing at male celebrities like Ryan Gosling, Justin Bieber and Zac Efron.
We’ve watched the footage of a female fan clawing at Tim McGraw’s pant leg, causing him to shove her hand away in an attempt to avoid being dragged into a sea of crazed women.
As I write this, I silently nod my head in understanding.
Being that my job has kept me in the public eye for more than a decade, I have some advice for the country superstar when it comes to avoiding overzealous women trying to get their hands on you:
Become a humor columnist.
In the last 16 years, the closest I’ve come to having a strange woman grab at me was during a fundraiser dinner, when part of my pulled-pork sandwich went down the wrong way and a nurse in the audience gave me the Heimlich Maneuver. Continue reading
Posted in Recently probed (and potentially sore) subjects
- Tagged celebrities, celebrity fans, celebrity safety, comedy, crazed female fans, Culture, funny, groping, humor, humour, journalism, Justin Bieber, musings, Ned Hickson, Ryan Gosling, satire, sexy, social media, society, Tim McGraw, trending
Before reading this, please take a good look at this video…
Yep, that’s me. Apparently, this is the new sexy.
Sorry about that.
For those of you who have been following me in the “Who Is the Sexiest Number” competition at The Public Blogger, after 100 men and six rounds of competition, I officially struck a major blow to sexiness everywhere by winning the finals Monday. This morning, the United Nations called an emergency session to discuss the ramifications.
“It’s like making contact with an alien race,” said a U.N. spokesman. “We are now faced with questioning everything we thought we knew about ourselves and our universe as humans.”
In Rome, Pope Francis met with cardinals from around the globe as thousands of panicked worshippers gathered at Vatican Square in silent prayer. “Do not be fearful,” the Pontiff assured the masses. “God has not abandoned us.” Continue reading
SURGEON GENERAL’S WARNING: Thinking Ned is sexy may be bad for your health.
This status update on my sexiness will be quick because, let’s be honest, it’s me we’re talking about. Those of you who have been following my inclusion in the “Who is the Sexiest Number” competition at The Public Blogger will be happy to know I’ve made the final three.
Ok, maybe “shocked” is a better word.
Either way, as we head into next week’s final round (June 5 & 6), it’s down to Thomas Lemke of Oklahoma, Keyur Panchal of India, and me: a slightly older humorist (give or take 20 years). I’m currently ranked No. 1, mostly due to my seductive bacon poetry, which was dripping with… uh… sexiness?
For the final round, we are required to make a short video explaining what quality we’d like others to perceive as “sexy” about us.
So as you can see, I have my work cut out for me. Continue reading
Being chosen among 100 men to participate in The Public Blogger’s “Who Is the Sexiest Number” competition was hard enough for me to understand. The fact that it has come down to Thomas Lemke and myself during tonight’s finals round is even harder to fathom.
Not the Thomas part.
He’s definitely sexy.
In fact, if I wasn’t a ridiculously happily married heterosexual, I’d be all over that guy.
But me? A humorist nearing 50 who has already traumatized most of his readership after wearing a red thong? Then again, considering what is happening with this year’s presidential elections, it just goes to show anything can happen. Continue reading
As I mentioned last week, due to what I’m assuming was either an egregious counting error or possibly something alcohol related, I somehow ended up in the final six “Sexiest Men” in the Public Blogger’s online Neighborhood. In the last round, we were required to write a piece of sexy poetry, which I did by drawing from my deep passion and desire for soft, glistening curves of my mistress…
Clearly, I’m not the only one who feels this way because I’m coming into this round in first place.
After tonight, only four of us will remain when voting ends tomorrow morning at 6 a.m. PST (and by that, I don’t necessarily mean I’ll be eliminated by a heart attack.) This round’s theme is “Smile,” with each of us submitting something — art, photography, music or humor *cough cough* — to vote on as each of us tries in our own way to “bring sexy back.” As you can imagine, I’m already behind because I actually have to FIND my sexy first. In the meantime, if you’d like to cast a vote — for me or any of these terrific men — you can follow the link, which I have cleverly labeled as “Vote Here.”
No matter who you vote for, or whether you vote at all, I already feel like a winner just knowing that I have bacon at home.
As I mentioned last Sunday, I have somehow ended up among a group of men ranked as “The Sexiest” on The Public Blogger’s international stage of artists known and The Neighborhood.
I know what you’re thinking: There goes The Neighborhood.
But the fact that I’ve reached the top six out of 100 men just goes to show that Trump’s campaign may not be the strangest thing we’ve seen this year. For example, with two rounds remaining, I am somehow ranked 1st after Sunday’s round of competition: “Sexy Poetry.” I’d like to say it’s because of my command of love language and ability to create sexually charged imagery that makes the heart beat faster; I’d like to say it’s because my machismo transcends the written word and internal passion that each of us carries, just waiting to be ignited; I’d like to say something really sexy right now but as you can see it’s not working. Continue reading
Those are three words I never expected to be associated with. Especially that second one, which I’m still scratching my head about. But tonight, I’ll be joining seven other men for Round 2 of the “Who Is the Sexiest Number?” at The Public Blogger.
The objective is to write your sexiest poetry.
That’s right: Me, a humor columnist, bringing on “the sexy” against young rappers and artists. Let’s be honest, bringing “the sexy” is hard enough by myself. Believe me, I know.
Wait… not that I know what it’s like being sexy by myself. I just meant when I’m by myself it’s already hard… I mean tough! It’s tough writing poetry!
This could be really ugly.
I’ve seen a lot of strange things on Facebook;
Cats doing chin-ups.
A naked guy playing flaming bagpipes while riding a unicycle.
But a few days ago, as I was scrolling through my Facebook notifications, I was tagged in a post with 35 others who had been listed as “The Neighborhood’s Sexiest Men.” I stared at it for a moment then, naturally, decided to restart my iPad.
Something was clearly wrong, like that time Rick Astley’s “Never Gonna Give You Up” started playing on my laptop and wouldn’t stop until the battery ran out.
I wasn’t about to re-live that nightmare again.
That’s when my wife came in and pointed to the same link, which she shared to her Facebook page with the comment, “Yep. That’s my HUSBAND!” Continue reading
(Today’s post is unusual because, for the first time, this one actually comes as a request. To put into perspective just how unusual this is, think of drinking a beet frappuccino, then requesting another one. Then again, most people aren’t Carrie Rubin at The Write Transition where, in addition to her terrific perspective on life and writing, she also offers a “very tasty” beet frappuccino recipe…)
I have a favorite pair of jeans I refuse to give up, and which, over the last few years, my wife has attempted to eradicate on six different occasions. She hates these jeans because, according to her, they are “ripped, frayed and embarrassing.” Particularly when I forget to change them before going out somewhere in public, such as our front yard. Her attempts to get rid of my jeans have escalated from them being “lost,” to an incident last week in which she claimed my jeans “spontaneously combusted,” forcing her to put out the flames with the nearest extinguishing device: A meat cleaver.
She later apologized for hacking my jeans, telling me she reacted instinctively to a dangerous situation. I told her I understood and that, instinctively, I planned to continue wearing my newly perforated jeans, at least until the remaining threads give way to the force of gravity and I am suddenly de-pantsed.
Probably while raking the yard. Continue reading
Nothing says “sexy” faster than someone with a pair of giant lips, even if that person’s collagen injections have made their lips so enormously seductive that they can’t actually pronounce the word “sexy,” and must instead settle for calling themselves “shek-shee.”
The point is, big lips are no longer just a cosmetic enhancement for people less fortunate than Mick Jagger and Angelina Jolie, whose lips are so large and incredibly sexy that they are prohibited by international law from bearing children together because, quote: “Said children could potentially upset the delicate balance between populations of humans and sucker fish.”
Though we all know that true beauty stems from inside, as any cosmetics surgeon will tell you, no one will notice unless your lips are the size of tractor tires. Which is why a new product called City Lips is being heralded as the newest, easiest and safest way to give you the lips you always wanted, but never dreamed you could have. At least not without surgically implanting tire stems in them and inflating your lips to 350 psi. Until now, those of us unable to afford expensive collagen injections were forced to live with the embarrassment of having normal, everyday lips. But thanks to City Lips, you can avoid the hassle and expense of collagen injections by using their patented do-it-yourself lip enlargement process! Continue reading
Posted in Flashbacks: Reader favorites that may cause numbness
- Tagged cosmetics, dating, funny, health, humor, image, life, musings, Ned Hickson, parenting, sexy