All posts by Lambchop

Journey to the New World

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I wish I could get Irish Backs of Steele to transport my meager belongings across the Atlantic for a few coppers! A solid week of sifting through my possessions and staring balefully at the mounting collection of boxes has caused me to convert the half of it to garbage bags. Who needs Stuff anyway?

Me, that’s who! Me! Me!

Don’t worry, lads and lasses of the Colonies, I will not be disposing of anything particularly fetching. I will be living under that bridge in the Common. And as Mother always admonished Father, “Just because you are a Bum, is no excuse to dress like That!” Surely I won’t be a public nuisance for long. One of you fine folk are bound to fill my biscuit barrel with cash, in return for me doing mostly nothing. My resume is lined with fascinating and useless items! I am trained in falafel making and creative napkin folds. I am also a skilled liar. Opportunities abound!

Lambchop and Licketysplit used to rule the Boston airwaves, lollipops in hand. Lickety, while I search for my passport and try to match up my socks, do be a dear and find something else for us to rule. Or at least someone to lord it over.

xo

Summer in Berlin…its alright

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A Japanese garden just opened in a park in Marzahn. It was very lovely- there were stepping stones for you to cross the little brooks and raked gravel to appear as a pool with swirling eddies where there was actually no water. Unfortunately, order it was Sunday, so I could not take a photo that would not include a bunch of East Germans in it. That is not an example of an East German, that is a frog. There was a pond full of them out front. They were talking a lot. They were saying, “Damn, its hot here.”

Prost!

Prost!

Bauhaus-o-Rama

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I spent the last day of my tour in Dessau, where I visited Walter Gropius’ famous Bauhaus School. The building is amazing. I stood on the very same geometric stairs that Oskar Schlemmer painted! Rows of windows in their aged black steel frames rotate open like horizontal blinds with a chain and pulley, casting deliberate gridded patterns of shadows. Incredible! There I saw photos from the 20’s of suit wearing art students on the balconies of the school, smoking and painting Nagy-like abstractions. Imagine! “What are you studying?” “Well, umm, Bauhaus!”

I also saw the Meister Häuser- the seats of Kandinsky, Klee and Feininger when they ran the School. It is impossible to take a single photo that captures the beauty of the design of these buildings, standing in a row. I stood in awe.

xo

Fashion Police

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Dear Kitty Winn,

Is thong underwear ever suitable for a man?

–anonymous, via internet

Dear Anonathong,

No. No. No.

And No.

Hyper-spanning fabric tucked between a man’s buttocks is something no man or woman wants to see, even if he is in prime physical condition. Which most of you are not. In the worst cases we must picture the sagging, sallow, or thin pancake variety of bottom with this unholy cloth divider. It stares us down like a highway’s no passing lane. Out of the question! Nor do we want our lover’s lovely giblets lazing in a hammock. We want them housed carefully, as though they might be worth something someday.

Crucial as these considerations are, I must return to your question, which does not specifically inquire about the appeal of this offensive undergarment. You ask if they are ever suitable. And there are exceptions, ninety-nine percent of which have to do with gay male pornography. Kitty is at a loss to explain this, the whys and wherefores of gay porn not really being my area of expertise. The remaining cases are as follows:

1. You are a Sumo Wrestler (technically, not a thong, but the aesthetic result is much the same)

2. You never ever ever want intimacy to progress beyond the moment this ghastly sheath is unveiled from your trousers.

There can be no two opinions on this point!

-Kitty Winn

Moo to Youuuu!

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I have finally returned from the wilds of western Germany. I journeyed through the Harz mountains and medieval villages, site castle ruins and decaying factories on the Elbe. I toured the countryside of the Westerwald, and ate too much cake. I visited Dessau, the playground of Walter Gropius and Mies van der Rohe. Bauhaus-o-rama! Like any traveller, I must sit here with my sunburn and gin and tonic, boring you all with some pictures of my vacation.

xo

Anchors Aweigh!

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To those of you who just tuned in, Dan Savage left our Lambchop in the lurch on a very important intimate matter. But David has come to the rescue. I am reprinting the entirety of the correspondence, which contains a letter within a letter with a letter. As you are all so gosh darned clever, I am sure you can sort through it to get to the Naughty Bits:

“Honestly, I cannot leave you people for a moment. I take one little trip to Arizona to watch my boyfriend get inducted into his high school’s Distinguished Alumni Hall of Fame, and everything goes to pieces.

Here is the sort of thing you were up to while my back was turned:

Dear David,

I must tax you again for your opinion. You see, I wrote Dan Savage ages ago and even asked very nicely a second time, to no avail. I don’t want to plague Dan with some kind of Marathon Man reenactment “Is it safe?…Is it safe?”, so I turn to you for help:

“My friend wants to put me in an empty bathtub and pour bottle after bottle of champagne over me. To which I would happily consent, but I fear injury to my tender bits when sitting in all that alcohol. And though I hate to repeat unsubstantiated lore, I even heard *somewhere* that Natalie Wood ended up in a hospital after springing into just such a cocktail.

So help a young floozy out–is this risky business or can we pop our corks and have at it?”

-lambchop

David responds:

Good lord, I hope my mother is not reading this one.

All right, all right. As you might have suspected, the female anatomy is not something with which I am intimately familiar, so even though I was in the throes of agony recovering from severe dehydration and dashing off my taxes at the last possible moment, I took the time to consult with not one but two physicians on your behalf.

One, a gynecologist, said that nothing should go dramatically wrong, although the alcohol in the champagne might kill some of the beneficial bacteria in your vagina, resulting in a yeast infection. The other doctor said that the bath probably would not cause any harm, but she warns against getting up to any funny business with the bottle, as there have been cases of such things “becoming trapped due to the suction effect.”

So pop your cork, floozy. Christen the ship of love. But if anything unforeseen should occur (Natalie Wood did drown under mysterious circumstances), I trust you will tell the authorities you got this advice from the much put-upon Dan Savage and leave me out of it. ”

Well now, gentle reader, Vomitola has done its part! I bid you all smooth sailing!

xo