July 7, 2005
A Glimpse Inside the Hell Toupee Mailbox
Yes, folks, it's that time of the month: the time when I take a look at some of the adoring mail I receive from loyal Hell Toupee readers. I always look forward to this, eager to see the kind of probing inquiries the Great Unwashed have to make, during these special moments when I let them tap into the Literary Consciousness that is Hell Toupee.
No doubt many will have questions as to how I develop such keen literary insights. Still others may seek fashion tips. And, of course, I suspect there'll be the inevitable love letter or two - it's all part of the territory when you're a hunky public figure such as myself.
Anyhoo, let's get started.
A reader from Cedar Rapids writes:
A reader from New York writes:
A reader from Seattle writes:
A reader from Albuquerque writes:
A reader from Denver writes:
A reader from Santa Fe writes:
A reader from Toledo writes:
A reader from Boston writes:
A reader from Newark writes:
A reader from Dallas writes:
A reader from Connecticut writes:
A reader from Connecticut writes:
A reader from Connecticut writes:
Stay tuned for more Reader Mail in an upcoming installment of Hell Toupee!
In Other News
As mankind continues to demonstrate its obsession with turning virtually ANY activity into a competition, more and more "big-boned" people are giving serious consideration to the idea of capitalizing on their one innate skill, and possibly turning pro. We're talking about the world of competitive eating, where titans clash and molars grind as fierce competitors race to choke down the largest amount of food in the least amount of time. What could be more noble than the thrill of knowing that when it comes to attacking a box of Twinkies like a human Hoover, you're the freaking best there is? God, what a thrill that must be.
Surprisingly, these contests are not always won by behemoths. Indeed, one 98-pound woman is considered the scourge of the speed-eating circuit, regularly chewing up (so to speak) competitors four times her size.
That's all well and good, but I think the news story I've linked here misses out on the Big Picture. While it may be marginally interesting to ponder going pro on the sushi-snarfing circuit, it's the average Joe at home who really wins as these contests become more popular.
How? Picture this: you're sprawled out on the couch, having assumed a flawless Full Bundy position. Your one free hand digs deep into the Cheetos bowl when suddenly you hear a disapproving ahem from the person who up until moments ago you considered your soulmate.
In the past, that scenario spelled trouble. But now, as the newfound awareness of competitive eating sweeps the nation, you've got a built-in comeback, guaranteed to assuage the indignation being expressed by your beloved:
"Honey," you can say, "I'm not snacking - I'm training."
The Daily Haiku
Looking poetically into the mind of speed-eating champion Takeru Kobayashi as he consumed 49 hot dogs in 12 minutes.
Nicely Put:
It was like that.
- F. Scott Fitzgerald: The Great Gatsby
Possibly my favorite descriptive sentence of all time, summing up in four words what some authors would take pages to describe.
No doubt many will have questions as to how I develop such keen literary insights. Still others may seek fashion tips. And, of course, I suspect there'll be the inevitable love letter or two - it's all part of the territory when you're a hunky public figure such as myself.
Anyhoo, let's get started.
A reader from Cedar Rapids writes:
I think your blog would be much better if it didn't have an obscenity in its name.
Hell Toupee responds:
Sorry, but "toupee" was the most polite word I could find for it. "Hairpiece" would be too alliterative, and "wig" lacked the rhythm I was looking for.
A reader from New York writes:
Your blog is pretty funny. It would be even funnier if you cut out the parts that, you know, aren't so funny. Or maybe if you just made the funny parts more funny, you know?
Hell Toupee responds:
You're an editor at a major publishing house, aren't you? I can always tell. When somebody so clearly identifies the issue, I know I'm dealing with a pro.
A reader from Seattle writes:
Do you really know M.J. Rose? What's she like?
Hell Toupee responds:
Yes, I know M.J. What's she like? She likes kicking my ass. Oh, you mean what IS she like? She's very nice, for somebody so fond of kicking other bloggers' asses.
A reader from Albuquerque writes:
What's it like to have already reached the top and then fallen from grace? Do you feel defeated? Do you feel like that Springsteen song "Glory Days" where you've already lived out the best times of your life, and it's all downhill from now on? Like Al Bundy on Married With Children?
Hell Toupee responds:
Are you sure you spelled Albuquerque right? It looks really weird. It must suck to grow up there - you're probably in high school before you can correctly spell the name of your own freaking city. I'm sorry - what was the question?
A reader from Denver writes:
Why are you always digressing? It really detracts from the main point of your work.
Hell Toupee responds:
My work has a point?
A reader from Santa Fe writes:
Dear Hell Toupee -
Does this font make me look fat?
Hell Toupee responds:
No. Just big-boned.
A reader from Toledo writes:
Do you think you could get a message to M.J. Rose for me? She is SO cool. It must be awesome to know her. You must be pinching yourself.
Hell Toupee responds:
Oh yeah, I'm a regular pinchaholic. You should see all the bruises.
A reader from Boston writes:
Glad to see M.J. back on top! Keep up the great job!
Hell Toupee responds:
You mean, keep doing a great job of not being as popular as M.J? (or is it M.J.? with a period AND a question mark?)
A reader from Newark writes:
Yo, Mr. Toupee. I'm here in freakin' Newark, and I gotta tell ya - it's freakin' awful. I mean it really sucks here, bigtime. So I'm wondering, can I maybe come stay with you?
Hell Toupee responds:
It depends. Do you look like Angelina Jolie? Failing that, do you look like a six-figure book deal?
A reader from Dallas writes:
So what's the real story between you and Angelina Jolie?
Hell Toupee responds:
Sadly, we are not currently speaking to each other.
It's rather painful for me to talk about. The situation is exacerbated by the whole her not knowing I exist thing, but I have faith that we'll work our way past that.
A reader from Connecticut writes:
I think the way you handled the humiliation of being so thoroughly and utterly CRUSHED by M.J. Rose's blog was very laudable. It takes a lot of character to watch your dignity trampled on to that degree by somebody clearly so much more successful than you. Most commendable.
Hell Toupee responds:
Yeah, I got character coming out the wazoo.
A reader from Connecticut writes:
I think you shouldn't feel so bad about the fact that M.J. made you her bitch. I mean, lots of famous writers spent some time being somebody else's bitch. I can't think of any right now, but when I do, I'll be sure to write to you and send you their names.
Hell Toupee responds:
Um, great. I'll look forward to hearing from you.
A reader from Connecticut writes:
Man, that's gotta sting. But good for you, being able to get back up on the horse that threw you. Well, to put it more accurately, the horse that threw you, then held you down in the dirt and humped you, spanking you the whole time. Yeah, that had to sting.
Hell Toupee responds:
This makes three in a row from Connecticut. Wait a minute - doesn't M.J. Rose live in Connecticut?
M.J. - is that you?!?
Stay tuned for more Reader Mail in an upcoming installment of Hell Toupee!
In Other News
As mankind continues to demonstrate its obsession with turning virtually ANY activity into a competition, more and more "big-boned" people are giving serious consideration to the idea of capitalizing on their one innate skill, and possibly turning pro. We're talking about the world of competitive eating, where titans clash and molars grind as fierce competitors race to choke down the largest amount of food in the least amount of time. What could be more noble than the thrill of knowing that when it comes to attacking a box of Twinkies like a human Hoover, you're the freaking best there is? God, what a thrill that must be.
Surprisingly, these contests are not always won by behemoths. Indeed, one 98-pound woman is considered the scourge of the speed-eating circuit, regularly chewing up (so to speak) competitors four times her size.
That's all well and good, but I think the news story I've linked here misses out on the Big Picture. While it may be marginally interesting to ponder going pro on the sushi-snarfing circuit, it's the average Joe at home who really wins as these contests become more popular.
How? Picture this: you're sprawled out on the couch, having assumed a flawless Full Bundy position. Your one free hand digs deep into the Cheetos bowl when suddenly you hear a disapproving ahem from the person who up until moments ago you considered your soulmate.
In the past, that scenario spelled trouble. But now, as the newfound awareness of competitive eating sweeps the nation, you've got a built-in comeback, guaranteed to assuage the indignation being expressed by your beloved:
"Honey," you can say, "I'm not snacking - I'm training."
The Daily Haiku
Looking poetically into the mind of speed-eating champion Takeru Kobayashi as he consumed 49 hot dogs in 12 minutes.
Weiner Winner
This would be more fun
if the prize was not just a
year's supply of franks.
Nicely Put:
It was like that.
- F. Scott Fitzgerald: The Great Gatsby
Possibly my favorite descriptive sentence of all time, summing up in four words what some authors would take pages to describe.
