Twanna A. Hines @ FUNKYBROWNCHICK.com | sex. dating. relationships.

It’s a “Meat Market” Because We’re Made of Flesh

I love a man with a great, big, hard, long pair of legs. Really, I do. The soccer players on Fox Soccer? Yummy! Hottie cyclists motoring their bicycles through Central Park? Delicious. Now, don’t get me wrong … I’m well aware that legs aren’t usually the first thing that come to mind whenever we all start playing the “What’s Your Favorite Part of a Man’s Body?” game. I can think of at least two other body parts that win first place and runner up on a regular basis. But, anyway, I can’t help it; I think men with great legs are sexy.

Actually … wait a minute … who the hell am I kidding? I think (attractive) men are sexy, period. I love a guy with a great smile and dashingly beautiful white teeth. I love it when a guy wears just enough cologne that you get catch a faint whiff of it when he walks by, but not so much that you smell him from several feet away. I love men who are honest. I love men who are quite a few inches taller than me. I love men who go to the gym. I love men who simply say what they mean and mean what they say without the silly double talk or ulterior meanings & motives. I love it when a guy gets noticeably excited. I love men who look like David Beckham … and men who look like Daniel Sunjata … and Paul Walker, and Maxwell, and Lenny Kravitz, and Andy Garcia, and Benjamin Bratt. I like the way (attractive) men look, smell, feel and taste.

Hmmm … I know that I already did a “Best Thing About Being a Woman” post, but I don’t think that I ever did a “Best Thing About Being a Man” post. (And, even if I did, screw it, who cares, I’m doing it again.) So, tell me: What do you like most about men? Oh, and, men who want to play along but aren’t attracted to other men can answer this question instead: What do you like most about being a man?

August 31st, 2006 | Print This Post | link | Email This Post | [19] folks got down with the Funky Brown

Is There Such a Thing as a Soulmate?

So, I’m reading Dooce the other day, and I stumble across one of her posts about her husband. Beautifully written. I’m not a mushy person, but after I read it I thought, “Seeeee, THAT’S what love is.” And, I’m not exactly sure if her post is the reason why, but a question popped into my head that day and I haven’t been able to get it out ever since. The question is this: Is there such a thing as a “soulmate”? You know, the idea that each of us has one special person out there who is an exact match for us. Or, do you think that, as we mature, we eventually “settle down” with someone who “fits” with most—but not all—of what we seek in a partner?

Me? I’m not sure what I believe. The cynical side of me says that the whole idea of a soulmate is kind of naïve. I mean, really, I don’t think there’s one “ideal” person any more than I believe that there’s one ideal job. At the same time, the idealist in me believes that there’s nothing more magically beautiful than when two complete strangers meet, get to know each other, and fall crazily in love with the other person’s being. One of my favorite lines from a movie is “the greatest thing that you’ll ever learn is to love and be loved in return” from Baz Luhrmann’s Moulin Rouge. (He took the line from Nat King Cole’s song Nature Boy.) Anyway, the idealist and the cynic in me are battling it out over the soulmate question. So, I’ll do what I usually do when this happens — I’ll ask all of you what you think. Again, here we go: Do you think that there’s such a thing as one true soulmate or do you think that we all eventually give up on the pursuit of a perfect mate and just “settle” for someone who “fits” us best?

August 30th, 2006 | Print This Post | link | Email This Post | [22] folks got down with the Funky Brown

Who Put This in My Mouth?!

Arghhhhh!!! I never thought it would happen, but it has. FEBO has left the Netherlands, traveled across the Atlantic, and is washing up on American shores. It’s true; a FEBO-style restaurant has hit New York. What is the FEBO? Well, to understand it, you kind of have to break it down into two parts: the food and the fast restaurant that sells it. Let’s start with the food — kroketten. To make a kroket, I think you: (1) take chicken, vegetables and other crap; (2) stick it in a blender until it’s all a heap of pulp; and then (3) spoon it out, mold it into the shape of a turd, stick it in batter, and deep fry it. Sounds delicious, right? Well, as if that wasn’t appetizing enough, let me tell you about the fast food restaurant that sells them.

Actually, wait a minute. I should proablaby back up because, when most of you hear that word “restaurant”, you’re likely to picture a building, a counter with several servers, tables, chairs and four walls. FEBO has none of those things. It just has a wall. ONE wall. (Say the phrase “eat from the wall” to a Dutch person and they instantly think of FEBO.) Anyway, the wall is subdivided into a bunch of small metal compartments with a heating lamp on top. On the front of each compartment is a small window that lets you can see the kroket inside. To get it, you put round quarters or dollar bills in a small slot next to the kroket that you want, push a button, and open the small trap door. It’s like McDonalds meets the vending machine.

I’ve only eaten at FEBO once, mind you. Rewind a few years. I’m visiting Amsterdam, and this absolutely gorgeous Dutchman that I’m dating at the time wants to stop at FEBO to get a quick bite to eat. We both get kip (chicken) kroketten from the wall. But, when I bite into mine, the inside is green. I tell Gorgeous Dutchman, “um, I picked chicken, but I think this is like vegetable or spinach or something. He looks at it, takes a bite, and says, “No. That’s right. That’s chicken.” I’m confused so I say, “Um, but it’s green and mushy.” To this, he only replies, “Stolie … it’s FEBO.”

Bad food. I don’t like to put it in my mouth. Just out of curiosity, do any of you have any bad food stories? Have you ever been to a restaurant and the food was beyond terrible? Did someone cook a nasty meal for you? Feel free to share your stories in the comment section.

August 29th, 2006 | Print This Post | link | Email This Post | [20] folks got down with the Funky Brown

The Invasion of the “Funny Guys”

Woot! Woot! Let the countdown begin, my brothers and sisters! Remember? A short while ago, I mentioned that I’ll be part of the “Pink Slips, You’re Fired” show at the WYSIWYG Talent Show next month, right? Well, I know that I’ve signed on for the event but I don’t know who else is going to be there. So, because I’m nosey a naturally curious person, I take a quick peek at the website to see if there’s any new information.

Yep, they’ve updated the site a bit.

Are my comrades for the evening fellow bloggers who happen to blog Words O’ Goofdom™ from time to time? Heavens, no! The group includes two professional stand-up comedians, a self-professed natural brunette (who has written humor pieces for Vanity Fair, The New York Times, Details & Spin) as well as two other guys who do, well, you know, “stuff”. I’m probably waaay out of my league. And, not to mention, I think my self-esteem took a blow when I noticed that my bio on the site says that I do [and I quote] “blah, blah, blah.” (I think it’s just dummy text used as a placeholder until the site gets updates, but it’s still kinda funny.) Anyway … Dear sweet Buddha with the big fat belly above, somebody provide me with a little bit of moral support. Tell me it’s gonna be okay. I shouldn’t fear the funny guys should I????

August 28th, 2006 | Print This Post | link | Email This Post | [14] folks got down with the Funky Brown

Free Tickets to the Freakshow!!!

If you’ve ever wanted proof that New Yorkers have gone absolutely mad, all you have to do is browse Craigslist. Everything that can possibly happen in the world happens in New York City, and Craigslist is like the online scroll that documents it all. It’s your free ticket to the freakshow. Pigeons eating vomit? Got it. Sumo rasslers? Yep. And—one of my personal favorites—interesting exchanges with trannies. “You gave me the gift that I never could have hoped to receive!” writes the guy who posted this story. “From beneath your oh-so-fashionable mini jean skirt, what did I see? Oh! Could that be?? Your p enis?!?! Why, yes, yes it was!”

But, the best Craigslist stories tend to be the ones about roommates and random New York living situations. Take “Do You Have What it Takes to Live Above Me?” for example. Sheer brilliance. It totally captures the craziness that is New York City Living soooo perfectly. And, ooh, ooh, ooh! I almost forgot … Let us not forget the “free rent” stories. “What do you mean?” you might ask. Well, you might not know this but in Manhattan — where the average apartment costs at least $1.2 million if you’re buying or $1,800/month if you’re just renting it — it’s possible to live completely RENT FREE … as long as you’re willing to cook gourmet meals, clean house, babysit a teenager, or give a complete stranger … um, well … shall we say “special favors”. Really. It’s too much. Remind me again — why on earth do 13 million of us choose to live in this city?!?!?! Oh, yeah, that’s right, THIS is why. I love New York.

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Special note: Again, heartfelt thanks for all past and future congratulatory comments regarding yesterday’s post about the job. I **ADORE** each and every one of my readers!

August 23rd, 2006 | Print This Post | link | Email This Post | [17] folks got down with the Funky Brown

Just Saw the Muthaf&*kin’ Snakes

Snakes on a Plane is the best muthaf^&kin’ fun that you could ever have at a muthaf^&kin’ movie!!!!! I mean it. Rewind to opening day. Just after midnight, Mags, Bro, The Republican, The Mainer and I join the other diehard fans to see Snakes on a Plane (SOAP). Maybe it’s because the movie is so bad that it’s good. Maybe it’s because half of the audience in theater is either drunk, stoned, or both. Or, maybe New Yorkers are just a little bit crazier than your average moviegoer. Whatever it is, I **LOVE** it. The movie was great and the audience made the whole experience even more worthwhile. Wait a minute … you know what? This story is too long to type out. I’m just gonna audioblog it. Okay. There. Just did it. Oh, and, just out of curiosity, did anyone else see the movie last weekend? If you did, what did you think? If you didn’t, what did you do last weekend?

Running Time: 4 minutes, 1 second.

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By the way, hey, I predicted that the movie would make $18 million during its opening weekend and then lose more than half (52-60%) of its audience in the second weekend. So far, I’m not that off, but the weekend estimates are still rolling in.

August 21st, 2006 | Print This Post | link | Email This Post | [11] folks got down with the Funky Brown

Life. Liberty. The Pursuit of Happiness.

Depression is soooo last year. Yep, you heard it here first folks: depression is out and happiness is in. I mean it, happiness is everywhere lately. During the past few months: The New York Times recently ran an article about designing your home in a “happy” way; BBC did a six-part series on the science of happiness; and Time Magazine did a special issue with a cover story about happiness (so did US News & World Reports). You can even take a class at Harvard called Positive Psychology — it’s supposed to teach you how to live a “fulfilling and flourishing life” or something like that. So, given all the hoopla, I’ve decided to take a test to measure exactly how happy I am. The results are in and … drum roll please … I’m happier than 95% of the people who live in my zip code in New York City.

It’s good to be happy. And now that I have scientific proof that I’m Manhattan’s resident scholar on all things happy, I’ve decided to come up with a 5-point guide to happiness. And, remember … you can trust me on this because I’m one of New York’s “happy” people. So, here we go, “Stolie’s Guide to Happiness” …

1. Therapy. No one gets through life without scars. To deal with it all, I eat up therapy like it’s chocolate cake. Really, there’s something quite magical about sharing a 1-on-1 cry with a complete stranger who is professionally trained in helping people solve life’s minor disturbances. So, if you haven’t tried therapy, try it. You might like it.

2. Know What Makes You Happy. Think of the 5 senses: taste, touch, sound, sight, and smell. Surround yourself with things that make you happy in each of these areas. For me, it’s the smell of sandalwood candles, incense and perfume; the taste of chocolate; the views of Manhattan; the smooth sounds of Bossa Nova; and the touch of a man’s body. I try to indulge in all of these on a regular basis.

3. Keep a Journal (or a Blog). I remember re-reading a tear-stained page from one of my high school journals. A guy that I was majorly crushing on asked one of my best friends (instead of me) to be his date for prom. Life, as I knew it, was over. So, yeah, if you keep a journal, you’ll have written proof that you’ve been in experiences that felt like the world was ending. And, you survived. And, you’ll survive again.

4. Surround Yourself with Winners. Frenemies. We’ve all had them, right? In general, I try to ensure that the people that I spend time with are on my team, they’re rooting for me. If they’re not, I get rid of them.

5. Live the Life You Love. I don’t want to be the 85-year-old woman who says, “I always wish I’d done [insert dream].” So, I do it. I live it. And, not to sound all earthy crunch, but I honestly think that a part of your soul dies when you don’t follow your dreams. So, if there’s something that you’ve always wanted to do in life, make a financial plan and timeline for how and when you’re going to do it. Then, do it.

Now it’s your turn. Tell me what you do to stay happy …

August 18th, 2006 | Print This Post | link | Email This Post | [22] folks got down with the Funky Brown

The Man Who Hated Hippies

Four years ago. I’m on a date with a man from a southern state that shall remain nameless. I pick the restaurant. Once we’re seated at our table, he looks around and asks me: “They don’t serve hippie food here do they?” But, I don’t know what he means. So, I ask, “What is hippie food?” He mumbles something then, to my surprise, he launches into a very long tirade against hippies. People who play Hacky Sack. Vegetarians. Grown men who throw Frisbees. In his mind, they’re all hippies. And, he can’t stand them. “I hate hippies!” he says. And, I’m telling this story to you now because the hippie-hater came to mind last weekend when, during part of our 12-hour brunch, my friends and I pontificated about things that irritate us. Pet peeves. We’ve all got them. And, hippies were clearly that guy’s.

What’s one of my pet peeves? Subcultures. I don’t particular hate any group based on age, ethnicity, class, sexuality, nationality or whatever. And, I’m not talking about break-dancers, bikers, surfers or skateboarders either. I’m specifically talking about subcultures based on things that never or no longer exist in society*. Subculture Fantasyland. People who go to Comic Con dressed up like their favorite character from X-Men; Trekkies who beam themselves up; American Civil War reenactors; and Ren Fair attendees who party it up like it’s 1499.**

I’m probably mocking what I don’t understand—which of course, in general, is not a good thing. (And, not to mention, I’m sure it probably makes me sound just as ridiculous as the man who told me that he hates hippies.) Hmmm … I’m curious. What’s your pet peeve? People who chew with their mouths open? People who slob on your face when they kiss you? People who don’t use their turn signals? Don’t hold back now. There’s still one more day till Friday; come on, vent your frustration. Use the comment section to name your pet peeve.

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* One exception: Stitch n Bitchers. IR-RI-TATING.
** My girl Bro is right there with my on this one. About Ren Fair, she says: “I don’t understand people who want to romanticize a period in time when there was no indoor plumbing.”

August 17th, 2006 | Print This Post | link | Email This Post | [29] folks got down with the Funky Brown