Category Archives: GQ

Snacks of the Damned: Half the Foods on This Terrifying List Are Real (via GQ)

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The one on the left we made up. Everything else is fair game.

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GQ — So, a New York bar has created a gourmet pizza that’s topped with Cheetos; it’s a fancy blend of cavatappi pasta, Béchamel sauce, a “signature cheese blend,” and the number-one reason your video-game controllers no longer work. It looks, well, delicious—let’s not be elitists about it. But it was hardly 2015’s only curious kitchen mash-up. We’re not sure what’s up with this game of culinary one-upmanship being waged by basically every restaurant that the Omnivore’s Dilemma buzzkill might have whined about, but a lot of the results make Cheetos pizza look like an organic-kale quesadilla wrapped in Volt brochures by comparison. See if you can tell the real food-flavored objects here from the very, very fake.

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100 Reasons You Should Be Listening to Phil Collins Right Now (via GQ)

 

BRING HIM HOME.

BRING HIM HOME.

 

GQ.com — This fall, Phil Collins ended both his retirement and his self-imposed exile in Switzerland, and we speak for both ourselves and your dad when we say: Damn right, he did! (Also, wait, he retired to Switzerland? Whoa, he’s been a Bond villain and we didn’t even notice.) Anyway, Phil Collins is the man. That may be a funny thing to say, but it is not a joke, as the following hundred reasons prove.

  1. Phil Collins’s comeback tour will launch next year, which is important, because the Phil Collins comeback was never supposed to happen.
  2. First, he’s had to come back from a lot, and he’s done it mostly out of the public eye. Since his last solo trek, 2003’s First Final Farewell Tour, he’s only materialized for a brief Genesis reunion in 2007 and a Motown covers album called Going Back in 2010. When he needed to vanish, he vanished.
  3. Second, the comeback tour had to be delayed while Collins recovered from emergency back surgery. He’s been battling nerve, back, and spine problems for years; his work on the Genesis reunion tour caused a dislocated vertebra in his neck and nerve damage in his hands, damage so severe he couldn’t actually hold his drumsticks. A lot of people would have quit.
  4. To recap: He’s a drummer.
  5. And doctors told him he’d never play drums again.

 

Read the other 95 highly logical and compelling reasons here.

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10 Things We Learned from Talking to Penny Hardaway about Lil Penny (via GQ)

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GQ — We’re not prone to making blanket statements about puppets, but let’s get saucy: Every single one of the Lil Penny commercials kills. Every. Single. One. To research this story, we watched, like, thirteen of Penny Hardaway’s vintage Nike ads in a row—“The Secret Service couldn’t guard me,” the “Frozen Moment” parody, “That was Tyra Banks, fool!,” “Ken Griffey Jr. for president,” “I guess Spike Lee wasn’t available,” the most baller Super Bowl party guest listof all time—and they’re all genius. (And that list doesn’t even count LP’s intro of the “NBA on NBC” coverage of the ’96 Magic vs. Bulls Eastern Conference Finals, in which he takes a table saw to a pair of Jordans “just to see what was inside.”)

Lil Penny was bizarro Hardaway—a wingman/coach/publicist/true player whose ego was everything Penny’s wasn’t. For much of the decade, Hardaway was one of the best in the game, a four-time All-Star, NBA Finalist, Olympic gold medalist, and guy touted as a league savior while that other guy was off taking batting practice and making Space Jam. And to this day, Penny says, he gets people coming up on the street and making puppet jokes.

Big Penny reflects on Lil Penny here.

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Lifelong Cubs Fan Still Can’t Believe They’re Going to the Playoffs (via GQ)

If you buy them inside Wrigley, paper bags are $24.

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GQ — Barring some sort of monumental collapse, the Chicago Cubs are bound for the playoffs, and I think we all know what that means: We’re about to witness some sort of monumental collapse. Because if being a Cubs fan teaches you anything, it’s to believe nothing, to trust nothing, that life is pain and all hope dies. Or, you know, some variation on that, I’m still playing with the wording and the smothering darkness.

The sad, sad tale at GQ.com.

 

 

 


RIP Columbia House, Without Whom I’d Have Accumulated Like Half as Many Extreme and Tesla CDs (via GQ)

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But did they tell you about the shipping charges? NOOOOOOO.

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GQ — Columbia House, the mass music-warehouse/inventory-closeout company you may remember from the back of every magazine between the years 1987 and 1994, closed this week. This, of course, is a sentence that makes no sense, like, wait, that was still open? That didn’t shutter in 1995, or when we all got Napster, or when they released the iPod? Who in the hell was ordering eight-CDs-for-a-penny in 2015, a magical, terrifying age in which you can clickity three buttons on your phone and dial up literally any piece of recorded music produced since the early Renaissance? It’s a little like hearing that Maxell cassettes just shut down, or that fax machine sales are on the slide.

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Dad Week at GQ.com: 10 Horrible Gross Things They Don’t Tell You About the Delivery Room

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GQ — There are more books about the wondrous, gross miracle of childbirth than there are celebrity organic cookbooks, inspirational-quote compilations, and terrible softcore mom-porn novels PUT TOGETHER. Yeah, it’s a lot. Let everyone else read the encyclopedias. Here’s a sneak preview for what will be a very curious few hours.

1. You will look. Oh, you’ll not want to look. You’ll want to avoid and eschew looking. You’ll want to hide behind the couch and cover your eyes like the first time you saw the end of Raiders. Thousands of years of primordial evolutionary instincts will all align in your brain, forming a united front like soldiers at a castle siege shouting, “You DO NOT KNOW what hideous terrors lurk in a location you usually enjoy visiting.” But you will look. You will look because you’re a grownup, and a father, and that is your baby’s mother, albeit not exactly presented in a way you might initially recognize. Also, you kind of can’t not look—it’s not like there’s anything more interesting happening in the room.

The full and slightly gooey list over at GQ.com.
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More from Dad Week:

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The Seven Worst Ways to Lose Weight in 2015 (GQ)

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Pictured: Not me.

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GQ – There are lots of ways to lose weight these days. You could clamp off part of your stomach, take up ultra-marathoning, or sample any number of chemical shakes, cocktails, medications, injections, pudding cups, synthetic meals or genetically modified livestock. You could also burn off more calories than you consume, but who has time for that noise when we live in the future?

Yes, we are an endlessly inventive and profoundly lazy species, one that—in defiance of hundreds of years of science and medical analysis—believes it’s possible to stand motionless on a vibrating plate and become Chris Hemsworth. But this year, we’re resolving not to try these preposterously trendy weight-loss methods.

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There’s a Right Way to Put Your Dog to Sleep (GQ)

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The author (in black), his brother and Cutty, circa 1991, judging by our oversized Ocean Pacific shirts, probably

.GQ — Despite the name they gave my dog, my parents were not alcoholics. Far from it. I’m not sure we actually had any booze in the house when I was a kid, and if we did it was probably in a Notre Dame commemorative placekicker bottle, purchased from Service Merchandise with a coupon. We did have a Scotch terrier mix though, and her name was Cutty. Cutty Sark. Like the Scotch.

Cutty was an adorable and slobbery wet mop known for her thick black fur, dragon breath, and scant bladder control. (Seriously, best dog ever, but if you’d brought one of those hotel-room black lights to our carpet, you would have seen nothing but a minefield of long-dried puddles. If I’d had girls over, it would have been a problem. It was not a problem.)

There was a lot to like about Cutty: She could smile on command (though it might have been a growl; dog expressions kind of all run together), she could catch mice (which came in handy when you live in a 400-year-old house on some county road in Indiana), and she could consume an entire box of twelve chocolate Santas in one sitting, although the subsequent 24 hours are something I’d like to forget. And without going all Charlie Brown-and-his-Snoopy on you she was a loyal and often damp friend to me for nearly 15 years, which is probably why it fell to me to put her down.

Read the full story here.

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The 10 Worst Couples You’ll See at the Gym (GQ)

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GQ — Welcome to January! If you’re like us, you spent the entire last month alternating between platefuls of Honey Baked Ham and a forest’s worth of peppermint bark—which now means ’tis the season for panic-stricken exercise.  And with that newfound motivation comes the temptation to bring your significant other along for a good public workout. That’s fine in theory, but it can go wrong in so many different ways. Next time you’re at the weight-bench, running-trail, cardio-mambo class or whatever, look around and see how many of these gross generalizations are sweatin’ to the oldies next to you. And then make sure you’re not one of them yourself.


12-Month Tuneup: Home Sweet Disgusting Home (GQ)

cleanhomeGQ — Don’t panic, but right now, in your own cozy house, you’re probably breathing polluted air, eating off bacteria-laced dishes, and sleeping in an invisible pile of dust-mite crap. It’s gross, and it may be hurting your health—but it’s also easy enough to fix, once you know how. 

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Also in the 12-Month Body Tuneup series:

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