Hip E. has game. It’s a very unique and ineffective form of game, but it is game nonetheless. As I was daydreaming at work, I thought: what if there were an Olympic games, held in San Francisco, where courageous competitors from all nations would participate in events involving various facets of Hip E.’s idiosyncratic game? Here are a few of the events.
How fast can you move your eyebrows while reading Blood Meridian?
Moving your eyebrows a lot makes you look sexy. Everyone knows this. Go for double Hip E. Game Olympic points by alternating eyebrow stances while reading the greatest book ever written, Blood Meridian.
How quickly can you locate and read key quotes from Blood Meridian?
Blood Meridian is an aphrodisiac. At least, Hip E.’s experience with Linda indicates as much. From a past post:
On Hip E.’s first date with Linda, he took her to dinner. I think. At least, I remember coming home from class and seeing them both on the couch. They were watching something like The Simpsons. I returned to my room to study and realized that Hip E. had managed to go on a date with that hot chick that we went camping with. I returned to the TV room about an hour later. Hip E. and Linda were still on the couch, but now they were watching an episode of Full House. I came just in time to hear Hip E. reading from Blood Meridian, the book raised, open to his eyes like a religious text and Linda vacillating between watching Uncle Jesse deal with the dilemma caused by his solo record deal and listening to Hip E.’s ridiculously inappropriate favorite-thing mongering: “This record deal is my big chance! But, leave Uncle Joey behind!!!! But he’s the CUT, IT, OUT guy! No way, no way … you know what, I decline that record deal … [schmaltzy music] … thanks cous’… hey, that what’s family is for … [credits]” … Linda returns to Hip E.’s reading … “War is god…” Then Hip E took her back to his room and played Masters of the Banjo, an often grating compilation of crotchety, premier banjo players. Then they, miraculously, hooked up, cementing Linda’s reputation as an easy lay. [The broad outline of this story is true, but almost none of the details. Much like Blood Meridian itself. These details work just as well though. - Hip E.]
How many jars of love sand can you fill and provide as gifts?
This is a big event. For his anniversary present to Linda, Hip E. collected sand from Crissey Field (where they first kissed) and transferred it to a little jar. He provided this jar as a present to Linda on their one year anniversary. The man has never lived it down. Do you have the resolve to collect love sand?
How many sappy mix-tapes can you prepare? (NOTE: This is a trick question. It is best to take a long time on one mix tape that will not be completed until after the relationship is over, at which point you will feel compelled to tack on the Bob Dylan song “All I Really Want To Do (Is Baby Be Friends)” because, it’s cool, you’re a nice guy.)
Make sure that you include a live version of a Phish song– preferably the 15-minute live version of “Harry Hood”. Unfortunately, that means you’ll need to listen to the 15-minute live version of “Harry Hood”. I’m sorry. No one said this would be easy.
[the events continue below]
How well can you strategically place a smiley faced emoticon in an email?
Hip E. and I have quarreled about his proclivity to insert emoticons in his emails to girls. Not cool emotions like \m/ (>.<) \m/. I mean :) used in a sentence like "I had a great time at the museum. :)" I feel like using these type of emoticons reflects a-- how should I say-- more diluted sense of manhood. Hip E. insists they are necessary to avoid misinterpretation. Well, no one's going to misinterpret the smiling emoticon as manly, don't worry about that. Regardless, you'll need to suppress your male tendencies and liberally pepper your emails with smiley faces if you want to succeed in these Olympics.
How frequently can you conduct a motorcycle date picnic at the Marin Headlands?
Hip E. rides a motorcycle. This is undeniably cool.
How often will you link to Hey Crackhead?
Internet phenomenon Hey Crackhead. What? Haven’t heard of it?
How often will you recommended Joanna Newsom? (COROLLARY: How overly intricately can you label the copy of Ys that you prepare for her?)
About 10 days into a relationship, Hip E. is compelled by the demons within to oh-so-plaintively raise the innocuous-seeming question: “So, have you ever listened to Joanna Newsom?” If the answer is yes, Hip E.’s head will immediately begin formulating possible designs for the CD he will burn and deliver by hand two days later. You will listen to the CD and think Joanna Newsom has a whiny voice and turn it off, replacing it with the new Dirty on Purpose album. You’re not making it any easier on yourself. It is best to just give in and pretend to like it.
How many times can you bail on pre-planned Sunday afternoon activities because you are tired from your soccer game and hungover?
If you are Hip E. it is important to always schedule soccer when there are other plans, then commit to moving the plans back and attending after soccer, then come home after soccer and ass out right after phoning and canceling plans. Then eat only cookies for dinner.
-Shark
19 responses so far ↓
Thrill // Feb 13, 2008 at 2:54 pm
Best Jo-Tel post ever written. We need a Hall of Fame category.
Hip E. // Feb 13, 2008 at 3:09 pm
Let me be the first to comment!
Eyebrows/Blood Meridian:
It is certainly true that people are often more attractive when they are interested in something. That sparkle in the eyes that hints at something vigorous going on behind them is like a flame to, like, moths (sic). Having not read Blood Meridian in awhile, if I were to recreate this technique right now it would probably involve Richard Dawkins’ “The Selfish Gene.” Eyebrow movement is a minor offshoot of the general physical and facial ebullience that accompanies exuberant thought.
Jar of Sand:
I never went out to a beach and collected sand. That would be cheesy. I am not that cheesedick. When I got home from our 3rd date, I had a bunch of sand in my pockets. I hadn’t collected it, it had just ended up in there. Rather than put it through the washing machine, I dumped it out into a film canister and tossed it in a drawer. I love random little objects. I would have made a great medieval witch or alchemist. Over the course of the next year, the sand in the film canister was imbued by outside events with certain ephemeral characteristics which, when bottled, became a thoughtful and portable anniversary gift. I also gave her earrings and a necklace, I think.
Hip E. // Feb 13, 2008 at 3:11 pm
P.S. Has anyone told the downstairs neighbors about our party yet?
Not it!
Johnny D // Feb 13, 2008 at 4:28 pm
not it! did it last time!
Turd Ferguson // Feb 13, 2008 at 6:02 pm
I agree with Thrill, I am fucking dying over here. But how come there are no events to confirm the greatness feeling of butt sex or the timing of asking someone else to finish their food for them?
Shannon // Feb 13, 2008 at 6:30 pm
Wow, funny to some but perhaps not so funny for the poor ladies on whom these “moves” have been pulled? Aren’t signing her up for pandorockers and telling her about the blog also key components of the jo-tel dating scheme?
Shark // Feb 13, 2008 at 9:35 pm
Turd, to answer your question, those two examples don’t have to do with romantic “game”. I mean, we could make fun of Hip E. in general for a whole month. There’s a lot there to mock. In fact, I can envision of four-part post just on the Gay Buckle Shoes …
PETE // Feb 14, 2008 at 2:03 am
“How many jars of love sand can you fill and provide as gifts?”
This is the best line, because I keep imagining like 10 guys all frantically scooping sand up into baby food jars and then running like, an obstacle course, possibly Gladiators are involved here, to deliver the sand-filled jars to their partners, girls, who then must call three of their best friends and tell them how this guy they’re seeing just gave them sand in a jar, and how should she handle it? Should she mention it in the Thank You note?
The first team to finish wins a piece of the Crag.
PETE // Feb 14, 2008 at 2:04 am
You did forget “How convincingly can you ‘misplace’ your wallet on your first date?”
Gabbeh // Feb 14, 2008 at 6:40 am
Great post. I’ve been reading this blog since the beginning and this is one of my favorites.
You forgot to include, “how many ’sips’ of other people’s cigarettes can you bum while fucked up.”
Linda // Feb 14, 2008 at 5:55 pm
Hip E asked me to comment and defend his honor. I am home with the flu so this won’t be very witty.
Blood Meridian. He is right that being enthusiastic about someting is attractive. And Blood Meridian in particular suggests mental brightness.
Sand. The jar of sand was awesome. That’s indisputable.
This post is ironic because it describes Hip E’s relationship strengths while the author himself is probably Hip E’s biggest relationship weakness.
Hip E’s inability to make decisions and form opinions without Shark, combined with Shark’s mockery of Hip E’s participation in anything Shark deems uncool (cleanliness, restaurants, living with one’s girlfriend without one’s college buddies, fidelity, children, compassion, wine, humility, etc.)
Linda // Feb 14, 2008 at 5:57 pm
@ Shannon: “Aren’t signing her up for pandorockers and telling her about the blog also key components of the jo-tel dating scheme?” Totally!
@ Hip E: “I love random little objects. I would have made a great medieval witch or alchemist.” Ha!
Linda // Feb 14, 2008 at 6:13 pm
Shark you should add a section on chorizo.
Shark // Feb 15, 2008 at 8:48 am
Linda: if you’re talking about what I think you’re talking about, I’m not at liberty to talk about it…
Patttttt (the real Big Cat) // Feb 15, 2008 at 5:07 pm
Jar of Sand. Potentially the lamest thing I’ve ever heard. Indisputably the gayest.
This must now be the gay gold standard.
Thrill // Feb 15, 2008 at 11:13 pm
Sorry, Patttttt, but nothing beats the GBS. Not even jars of sand. Not even Jars of Clay for that matter.
Linda // Feb 16, 2008 at 12:04 am
If the gay gets you tang, it can’t be THAT gay.
PETE // Feb 19, 2008 at 10:34 am
Thrill, send Linda a picture of Marisa Miller’s husband.
Linda // Mar 7, 2008 at 11:16 am
Also, let the records state that was NOT our first date, we’d been dating for a month or something.
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