A Man’s Guide to Getting a Facial (GQ)

mansome-mens-facial-treatment-blog

GQ — When you tell your female friends that you’ve made an appointment for your first facial, you tend to get one consistent response: deranged enthusiasm.

It’s like being welcomed into a secret society, all these lovely ladies assuring you that you can’t possibly imagine the glorious wonders that await your face-parts. “You don’t have to carry a messenger bag and be named Thad to get a facial. Jeffs deserve facials too,” Robyn told me. “Masculinity is not an issue,” added Anna. “All the gang dudes in my neighborhood in Spanish Harlem got facials.” I’m taking her word for that, as it’s an extremely difficult thing to fact-check.

Anyway. Much like you, unless you are Prince, I hadn’t the first clue what to expect about facials. I’ve never had any kind of massage. No part of me has been exfoliated. I actually asked someone if the facial would involve kelp, mud and/or cucumbers, because apparently my entire knowledge base regarding spa treatments comes from Bugs Bunny cartoons.
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But I did know where to go.
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This Thanksgiving, Be a Touch Football RG3 with the Wilson K2 (GQ Fitness)

ks-football-gq-fitnessGQ — Footballs are good at many things—flying through the air, causing family arguments, being thrown to opposing teams by Eli Manning—but regulation-size balls are not particularly forgiving to the average dude. Sure, you think you look cool in your backyard, dropping back and calling plays like a version of Colin Kaepernick without the tattoos that look like a shirt. But in reality your spiral is probably more like a circling-of-a-drain, and your throwing motion looks like someone just plugged a microwave into your nervous system.

Read more here.

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Exactly What Is This Viscous Black Substance Pouring Forth from the Carpet Cleaner

muddyotterwater

This is more or less what emerged from our carpet cleaner. Otter included.

GateHouse — Never rent a carpet cleaner.

Seriously.

Never rent a carpet cleaner.

Just don’t. Realize that carpets, by their filthy fibrous natures, will always contain some considerable amount of playground dirt and cosmic dust and standard-issue housefunk and dog hair and old food and and that’s just how it is, and you should be OK with it. Maybe it, you know, boosts immunity or something.

We rented a carpet cleaner this weekend. Related: We live like farm animals. Related: That’s not true. Farm animals would not let their living spaces get like this; at some point a rooster or something would be like, “Guys, seriously. Also, cock-a-doodle-doo!”

Oh sure, there is a hygiene upgrade and general peace of mind that comes with the post-clean knowledge that your carpets are so sterling you could eat off them (so long as you didn’t mind fibers in your steak or the occasional ball of fuzz in your soup). Sure, it’s nice to have a clean house. We have two kids in ours, so this last part has gone from being an occasional delight to something we remember from a time we’ve come to know as “The Restaurant Years.”

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My 9-Year-Old’s ‘Star Trek’ Obsession Obviously Must Be Crushed Immediately

My interest in “Star Trek” directly corresponds to the amount of times Spock reads the brain of a whale

Island Packet — My dad and 9-year-old are downstairs right now watching the first of the new “Star Trek” movies, the one that came out in 2009 and is cleverly titled “Star Trek.” I’m making that point because it’s going to get hairy with the titles here in a minute.

We watched the second of the new “Star Trek” movies, “Into Darkness,” last night. That’s the one that was released this spring and contains Evil and Pale British Khan, and at the end they eradicate 85 percent of San Francisco and — you’d think a bigger deal would be made of this — stumble upon a way to CURE HUMAN DEATH, yet neither development really causes any of the characters to look up from their phones much.

But there’s a separate issue developing. My son becomes obsessed with detail, the sort of detail that eludes the casual viewer, and by “eludes” I mean “bores the pants off of.” He’s been known to spend the better part of a road trip expounding on the stylistic differences of various years of Honda Odyssey minivans, because I have the only budding car kid in town who is less into speed and danger than he is fiscal sensibility and good Consumer Reports ratings.

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Steve G. Jones: Sometimes Your Words Just Hypnotize Me (South Magazine)

(Photo by Ryan Gibson)

(Photo by Ryan Gibson)

South Magazine — There are two problems with interviewing hypnotists:

1. You don’t believe them and

2. You do believe them, and you’re constantly on a heightened sense of manufactured alert wondering if they’re working magic on you that you don’t know about. You also, at all times, worry a little bit about turning into a chicken.

But if you subscribe to the culturally common idea of hypnosis, if you’ve already begun thinking purple capes and handlebar mustaches and spinning discs adorned with cool spiral designs, you’re missing a few important subtleties. You’re also not thinking of Steve G. Jones.

There are two kinds of hypnosis in this world: stage and clinical. Stage hypnosis is when you are pulled onstage in Vegas and compelled to make animal noises for a bar full of Midwesterners. It’s done for entertainment, for you to look silly in public and purchase a DVD of it for some reason. Clinical hypnosis, meanwhile, is when you need to effect a positive change in your life, anything from smoking cessation to weight loss to toppling a fear of anything—failure, self-doubt, commitment or even clowns. It’s not a show. It is, however, Jones’ livelihood and it’s a good livelihood. Steve G. Jones is, it is safe to say, Savannah’s pre-eminent celebrity hypnotherapist/reality-show contestant/self-made one-man empire of hypnotherapy.

Read more in the October/November issue of South Magazine.

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That Time My 2-Year-Old Found Out We Didn’t Throw Him a Birthday Party

GRbIS.AuSt.9

Island Packet — The little giant turned 2 last month, and we celebrated the occasion by doing quite a lot of nothing.

It wasn’t technically nothing. We made cupcakes and sang, had a tiny party in the house with my oldest friend Alex, who sings “Happy Birthday” like a pro and made the rest of us look bad. We went on a sunset dolphin cruise, because there are few activities more enjoyable than chasing a 2-year-old around a moving sea vessel in the dark. We opened a bunch of presents from out-of-town relatives, then made a note to send them all thank-you cards — HAHAHAHA, just kidding, never happened, but thanks guys, for real.

(The boy, for his part, marked the morning by spraying his blanket, crib sheets, crib bumpers, wall and floor with a festive spray of throw-up, which, now that I think of it, may have been a result of the cupcakes. He felt fine for the rest of his day, but it’s hard to be enthusiastic about someone’s birthday when they smell so terrible.)

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Jaimie Alexander, Goddess Of War (South Magazine)

south jaimie alexander

The South Magazine — If you come across actress Jaimie Alexander on the movie or TV screen, chances are good she’s winning in a fight.

The Greenville, South Carolina, native appears as the warrior-goddess Sif in the first Thor movie and sequel, Thor: The Dark World, due in November. (That would be her in the trailer battling stone-monsters alongside Chris Hemsworth and holding a sword to the throat of Tom Hiddleston’s evil, awesome demigod, Loki.) This past January she starred with former politician Arnold Schwarzenegger in the throwback action film, The Last Stand.  She appeared for two seasons on the cult ABC sci-fi series Kyle XY with cool superhuman powers.

For the first Thor movie she even got an extreme close-up teaser poster of her face, overlaid with the text “THE GODDESS OF WAR.” And sometimes she gets involved in sword accidents. “I love doing the stunts, but they can be dangerous, like when I accidentally hit someone in the face with a sword,” she says. “Luckily he had a lot of padding, so it didn’t hurt that badly.” We’ll pause here to let you think about the last time you came home from work after hitting someone in the face with a sword, just not that badly.

Read more in the new issue of South magazine.

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Toddler iPad Addiction Is Real, And The Evidence Is Currently Screaming In My Lap

toddler-ipad

Pictured: Not my toddler, but this game is all I hear in the house anymore.

Island Packet — The Internet is chock plumb full of awful parenting advice, blank scare tactics and a bunch of stuff that people just make up (like there’s really a guy named “Benedict Cumberbatch”), but now and again it hits on something: It was on the Internet that I first read of “iPad addiction,” a new addition to the ever-turning Carousel of Things to Fear Regarding Your Toddler. (Since I live in the Lowcountry, I’m still keeping my No. 1 as “snakes and spiders,” and yes I realize those are two things but I’m convinced they are in cahoots.)

The cause of iPad addiction is simple: Parents in need of a few sweet moments of work or dishes or not-playing-robots time grant the child a brief electronic distraction. But the effect is simpler: Before long the child gets really super crazypants attached to the device, and when you try to eventually take it away for something imprudent like “a bath” or “eating,” the child contorts his face into a demonic visage of rage and shrieks murderously, for like a half an hour, in your face, even during a bath.

Or at least that’s what my son does.

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Monopoly Isn’t Getting Rid Of Jail, But I Will Still Crush You At It

MonopolyMan2

YOLO

GateHouse — First of all, the good news is that Monopoly is NOT getting rid of jail. JAIL IS SAFE, EVERYONE. Well it’s not safe, because it’s still jail, and I’ve heard enough about “Orange Is The New Black” to know what I’m talking about, but you get the point.

This is a big deal because last week there was concern when The Internet, which is the thing you read when you sort of want news but mostly want to know about “14 Things That Happened When A Waffle House Opened In The Braves’ Stadium,” reported that a new version of the venerable board game was doing away with jail.

That’s right: NO MORE JAIL! Why, the very thought of it was enough to send the Internet’s army of unpaid clones into a tizzy about the injustice of a world that allowed modified board games, an injustice that was so fierce and disturbing that it left little energy for fact-checking, which would have saved loads of time since the story turned out not to be true. I KNOW, you’re saying, The Internet usually doesn’t get things wrong, unless it’s Boston bombing facts or the name or the occasional school gunman, but it’s straight-up all over this “32 Signs You’re A Weasley” thing.

Let me back up a little: For you youngsters reading the paper (HA!), this “Monopoly” is a Precambrian “board game” once played by children before the invention of a video game you played by hopping around your living room like a lunatic, and it basically made family-friendly sport out of basic economics. That’s probably why fewer people are playing it now, because most modern parents can’t hand over even fictional cash to theoretical utilities without bursting into tears.

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A Conversation With Jimmy Buffett (Time)

Jimmy Buffett press photo

Time.com — Jimmy Buffett adds to his considerable pirate treasure with constant touring: traveling carnivals-slash-beach-blanket blowouts of friendly grass-skirted hedonisms. His shows are as constant as the tides, the stars and — to be slightly less romantic about the whole thing — the receipts at the end of each. But why not? At 66, Buffett and his Coral Reefer Band are still good for nearly 30 songs a night, and no one’s better at suggesting escape and rum drinks are just a snap decision away.

Buffett talked from his Long Island, NY home about retirement, Michael Jordan, Willie Nelson and…surfing.

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Wait, you were really surfing this morning?

“Yeah, if there are waves, I’ll be out there. It’s crowded out here [at Montauk] but the conditions were right, so I was in the water at like 7:30. It’s a passion first — well, some would say it’s an affliction rather than a passion, but whatever it is, I’ve got it. I’m an old-fart surfer, but it keeps me in shape and it generates some interesting byproducts in the way of song lyrics.”

Read the full Q&A here.

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