Stuck on You

Dating horror stories. We’ve all heard them. You may have even experienced one or two. Or four. Or 50. They can certainly be enough to put you off dating for awhile. So I wonder how long it’s going to take for a California man to get back on the dating horse after finding one of his casual encounters STUCK IN HIS CHIMNEY. I don’t know what kind of gift she thought she was bringing him, but seeing as how he had chosen to end their relationship after several dates, I’m fairly certain he didn’t want it.

She sees you when you're sleeping. She knows when you're awake.

Was she there to surprise him? To break in? To put his underwear on her head and roll around in his sheets? To boil his bunny? (That’s not a euphemism.) I don’t know. What I do know is that she had already been caught on his roof once. I feel like at that point you take out a restraining order. You don’t wait for her to pull some psycho Santa trick out of her big Santa bag.

Listen, I’ve made some questionable decisions in my life – even boy-related decisions – but can someone please explain to me why going down the chimney would EVER sound like a good idea? First of all, if you do make it down, you’re covered in filth. I know some guys are into that, but this isn’t sexy filth; it’s soot. Even Bert, the chimney sweep in Mary Poppins, couldn’t make soot look good. It’s a very hard look to pull off. Is this really the way you want to greet the man who has recently dumped your soot-covered behind?

And second, the likelihood of you actually getting down the chimney is very, very small, because in order to get through such a small space, you have to be very, very small – and the flue creates an entirely new set of issues. In fact, I don’t think even Kate Moss herself could successfully make that journey and she hasn’t eaten since 1983.

And you know what happens if you don’t make it all the way down? You get stuck. In a chimney. There are pictures of this woman being stuck in a chimney and it’s almost enough to give me a full-on panic attack. I know Santa makes it look easy, but successfully navigating a chimney is actually very hard work and should only be handled by magical professionals. 

I can't. I really just can't.

The truth is, although she’s now landed herself in a steaming pile of trouble and humiliation, she’s actually really lucky that the object of her unrequited affection was home. Another California woman (a doctor, no less) once tried this little trick. Unfortunately for her, her target was out of town, which meant there was no one to hear her cries for help.

She died.

In a chimney. 

I think there’s a lesson in this for all of us. Don’t be this woman. If and when your relationship ends, move along with dignity. Don’t get stuck looking like a crazy fool.

Or in his chimney. 

You Are What You Eat

I don’t really understand the appeal of food-eating contests. I like to enjoy what I’m eating. The idea of gluttonously stuffing yourself to the point of puking seems rather, for lack of a better word, unpleasant (unless it’s Thanksgiving, then I totally support the decision). And, really, what does winning prove? That you have a very large stomach and no gag reflex? Where exactly does that go on your resume?

A Florida man, however, took overeating to a whole new level recently, and paid the ultimate price. No, not with his dignity. With his life. But it wasn’t hotdogs or hoagies or Ho Hos that 32-year-old Edward Archbold indulged in. It was bugs. Roaches and worms, to be exact. Not-so-surprisingly, after the competition ended, Archbold didn’t feel so well and soon found himself puking it up backstage. Ah, the perils of fame. I’m sure Steven Tyler has been in a similar situation a time or two.

The good news is Archbold won. The bad news is it killed him. Of course, in those few glorious moments after being declared the winner, he had the opportunity to savor the fact that he had just won 500 million dollars. Okay, maybe it was only 100 million dollars, but it had to be some kind of giant cash prize, right? Why else would you stuff yourself full of LIVE, gooey insects? (If you’ve ever stepped on a roach, you know exactly what I’m talking about.)

Turns out there was no monetary reward. No new car. Not even a gift card to Applebee’s. The prize? A python. Seriously, a python. I mean, not to be insensitive, but if the roaches hadn’t killed him, the python probably would have.

Reportedly, the python will now go to Archbold’s estate. This means that someday it will probably belong to his daughter, for whom, all joking aside, this is a huge tragedy. But, although she’s been left fatherless, at least she has a giant, deadly snake to remember him by.

And, at the end of the day, isn’t it just nice to know that the snake will stay in the family? Otherwise, all of Edward’s hard work would have been for nothing.