Archive for the ‘Live and Learn’ Category
Hang Time
Author: Penthouse Magazine
When an egg-and-cheese won’t do the trick, try one of these newfangled hangover remedies. But is the cure worse than the malady?
By Joshua M. Bernstein
For drinkers, morning is a cruel mistress. The sun’s rays are like police-interrogation lights, causing you to crack reddened eyes as crusted as a mustard jar. Your skull recalls a construction site, while your tongue is drier than the Sahara Desert. The symptoms are unmistakable: You have a hangover.
Like the common cold, there’s no ironclad cure for this post drinking affliction. Some people swear by greasy grub. Others reach for aspirin, while Hunter S. Thompson preferred 12 amyl nitrates backed by as many beers as necessary. (I’m partial to a Diet Coke myself.) But lately, a new breed of boozing aids promises to alleviate the morning-after ache. Are they poppycock? A godsend? While on my hard-boozing tour for my beer book, Brewed Awakening, I tested some of the most promising antidotes to too much of a good time.
Bytox
I was set to appear at Manhattan’s 508 gastrobrewery, a brewpub that makes weight-lifter-strength ales. To insulate myself, I turned to Bytox. The patch delivers an onslaught of vitamins to your body, including 4,160 percent of your daily dose of B 12 and 10,000 percent of B1. I pasted the patch to my biceps and chugged potent imperial stouts like water—and the odd pint of agua, too. Like most remedies, Bytox suggests you stay well hydrated, which is excellent advice for any drinker. Nonetheless, when I awoke the next day and peeled off the patch, my head still jackhammered.
Mercy
After you spend all night at the Cascade Brewing Barrel House in Portland, Oregon, sipping endless goblets of sour beers, the hangover gods will likely show you little mercy. But I had an ace up my sleeve: Mercy. The canned, carbonated beverage is crammed with thiamin, niacin, and a proprietary blend including milk-thistle seed, chamomile, and, uh, alpha-ketoglutaric acid. Postbrewery, I popped a can and guzzled the fizzy, lemony nectar. It was plenty tasty, but the next morning I still felt like a steamroller had flattened me.
Drinkwel
I was skeptical about the benefits of Drinkwel, “the multivitamin for people who drink.” Every day for a week, I popped three pills loaded with 30 ingredients, including liver-friendly milk thistle, vitamin B 12, and goji and acai berries. Then I went on a bender at Seattle’s Elysian brewpub, knocking back numerous pints of Avatar Jasmine IPA. Per instructions, I capped the night with three additional capsules and water. Come sunrise, I felt like I’d gone ten rounds with Mike Tyson, circa 1986.
Last Round
The night before an early-morning flight to New Orleans, I drank my weight in British-style cask ales at Brooklyn’s Pacific Standard. When I returned home to pack, I reached for a Last Round. The all-natural, after-drinking elixir is made with green tea, stevia, ginkgo, kudzu root, and licorice, which gives the light amber liquid a medicinal scent. I swallowed the 2.4-ounce serving, finding it sweetly reminiscent of Robitussin. When I awoke before sunrise, I felt like reheated death. I chugged one more Last Round; surprisingly, it made me feel loopily alert and a little less terrible.
Blowfish
Thanks to bars that never close, New Orleans doles out hangovers like Halloween candy. I spent my eve at the Avenue Pub, sipping hoppy pints of NOLA Brewing’s Hopitoulas IPA, before pounding Miller High Life–and–whiskey combos at the divey R Bar. In the A.M., I felt like a dehydrated turd. I turned to the Alka-Seltzer-like Blowfish, which is packed with aspirin, caffeine, and antacid. I dropped the tablets into a tall glass of water, where they fizzily dissolved. I drank the fluid and, within minutes, felt my headache ease. My eyes opened wider. I wasn’t ready for another beer, but I was ready to face the day.
Sprayology Party Relief
In my opinion, oral sprays are only good for ensuring my breath doesn’t smell like a Dumpster. But instead of mint, this pump canister is packed with capsicum (read: peppers) and—holy radioactivity!—radium brom. The spray is designed to prevent and relieve “alcohol-related discomfort.” You’re supposed to spritz it under your tongue before drinking, after each hour of drinking, when you finish drinking, and the day after drinking. Phew. As I sipped the lagers at Full Sail Brewing in Hood River, Oregon, I misted my mouth with the vaguely metallic and slightly spicy Party Relief. I felt like an idiot, and as I grew pie-eyed I forgot to reapply. Perhaps that’s why I felt terrible the next morning. And no amount of A.M. sprays could save me.
Hang Time
Author: Penthouse Magazine
When an egg-and-cheese won’t do the trick, try one of these newfangled hangover remedies. But is the cure worse than the malady?
By Joshua M. Bernstein
For drinkers, morning is a cruel mistress. The sun’s rays are like police-interrogation lights, causing you to crack reddened eyes as crusted as a mustard jar. Your skull recalls a construction site, while your tongue is drier than the Sahara Desert. The symptoms are unmistakable: You have a hangover.
Like the common cold, there’s no ironclad cure for this post drinking affliction. Some people swear by greasy grub. Others reach for aspirin, while Hunter S. Thompson preferred 12 amyl nitrates backed by as many beers as necessary. (I’m partial to a Diet Coke myself.) But lately, a new breed of boozing aids promises to alleviate the morning-after ache. Are they poppycock? A godsend? While on my hard-boozing tour for my beer book, Brewed Awakening, I tested some of the most promising antidotes to too much of a good time.
Bytox
I was set to appear at Manhattan’s 508 gastrobrewery, a brewpub that makes weight-lifter-strength ales. To insulate myself, I turned to Bytox. The patch delivers an onslaught of vitamins to your body, including 4,160 percent of your daily dose of B 12 and 10,000 percent of B1. I pasted the patch to my biceps and chugged potent imperial stouts like water—and the odd pint of agua, too. Like most remedies, Bytox suggests you stay well hydrated, which is excellent advice for any drinker. Nonetheless, when I awoke the next day and peeled off the patch, my head still jackhammered.
Mercy
After you spend all night at the Cascade Brewing Barrel House in Portland, Oregon, sipping endless goblets of sour beers, the hangover gods will likely show you little mercy. But I had an ace up my sleeve: Mercy. The canned, carbonated beverage is crammed with thiamin, niacin, and a proprietary blend including milk-thistle seed, chamomile, and, uh, alpha-ketoglutaric acid. Postbrewery, I popped a can and guzzled the fizzy, lemony nectar. It was plenty tasty, but the next morning I still felt like a steamroller had flattened me.
Drinkwel
I was skeptical about the benefits of Drinkwel, “the multivitamin for people who drink.” Every day for a week, I popped three pills loaded with 30 ingredients, including liver-friendly milk thistle, vitamin B12, and goji and acai berries. Then I went on a bender at Seattle’s Elysian brewpub, knocking back numerous pints of Avatar Jasmine IPA. Per instructions, I capped the night with three additional capsules and water. Come sunrise, I felt like I’d gone ten rounds with Mike Tyson, circa 1986.
Last Round
The night before an early-morning flight to New Orleans, I drank my weight in British-style cask ales at Brooklyn’s Pacific Standard. When I returned home to pack, I reached for a Last Round. The all-natural, after-drinking elixir is made with green tea, stevia, ginkgo, kudzu root, and licorice, which gives the light amber liquid a medicinal scent. I swallowed the 2.4-ounce serving, finding it sweetly reminiscent of Robitussin. When I awoke before sunrise, I felt like reheated death. I chugged one more Last Round; surprisingly, it made me feel loopily alert and a little less terrible.
Blowfish
Thanks to bars that never close, New Orleans doles out hangovers like Halloween candy. I spent my eve at the Avenue Pub, sipping hoppy pints of NOLA Brewing’s Hopitoulas IPA, before pounding Miller High Life–and–whiskey combos at the divey R Bar. In the A.M., I felt like a dehydrated turd. I turned to the Alka-Seltzer-like Blowfish, which is packed with aspirin, caffeine, and antacid. I dropped the tablets into a tall glass of water, where they fizzily dissolved. I drank the fluid and, within minutes, felt my headache ease. My eyes opened wider. I wasn’t ready for another beer, but I was ready to face the day.
Sprayology Party Relief
In my opinion, oral sprays are only good for ensuring my breath doesn’t smell like a Dumpster. But instead of mint, this pump canister is packed with capsicum (read: peppers) and—holy radioactivity!—radium brom. The spray is designed to prevent and relieve “alcohol-related discomfort.” You’re supposed to spritz it under your tongue before drinking, after each hour of drinking, when you finish drinking, and the day after drinking. Phew. As I sipped the lagers at Full Sail Brewing in Hood River, Oregon, I misted my mouth with the vaguely metallic and slightly spicy Party Relief. I felt like an idiot, and as I grew pie-eyed I forgot to reapply. Perhaps that’s why I felt terrible the next morning. And no amount of A.M. sprays could save me.
Top 10 Poker Tips
Author: Penthouse Magazine
Do you want to be the next Puggy Pearson? I know I do. That’s why I attended the World Series of Poker Academy.
By Harmon Leon • Illustration by Patrick McQuade
There are great names from the World Series of Poker’s past: Amarillo Slim, Puggy Pearson, Doyle Brunson. Gruff, manly names. The kind of guys you, like me, might fantasize about being—the kind of guy who might down a bottle of bourbon, stuff a cigar in his mug, and then casually lay down a Royal Flush. You want to learn your craft at the World Series of Poker Academy—the official poker school of the WSOP. Held in Las Vegas at the Rio, this two-day intensive class heralded more than 40 years of world-class poker instruction from the likes of Greg Raymer, Mark Seif, Shawn Rice, and several other pros from those numerous late-night poker TV shows.
Though the Academy focuses on such topics as advanced post-flop techniques and stack-size strategy, what sold me was its Mind and Body seminar with Joe Navarro—a former FBI agent who used to interrogate terrorists and master criminals. Navarro now uses his keen powers of observation, along with his body-language expertise, to teach players how to interpret more than 200 body tells at the poker table—pretty kick-ass stuff.
The WSOP Academy is held in a conference space where several green-felt tables are set up. Roughly 40 players—from all walks of poker life—pay good money to take their game to the next level.
For starters, I take the Academy’s poker-IQ test, found on its website; the test involves 20 hands of simulated tournament play. The result helps evaluate what you need to work on in your game. The average poker IQ is 130. I get a score of 82. Looks like I’ll be riding the short bus to poker training school. Climb aboard! Here are the top things we’ll learn:
GET THE PSYCHOLOGICAL EDGE
In the movie version of the Academy, I’d cast an intense Christian Bale in the role of poker mind-set guru Sam Chauhan. (For some reason, his seminar ends with the class breaking boards with a hammer.) Chauhan’s seminar touches on winning mind-set strategies right out of Sun Tzu’s book The Art of War: Always look directly into the eyes of your opponent. In an event of a bad beat, don’t show anger. Never argue with the other players. Avoid being your own worst enemy. Go to your private cave for confidence. Use a relaxation anchor to make you feel as if you have the nuts.
HAVE A DIRTY HARRY LOOK
Psychologically, people tend to avoid a person they perceive as being aggressive. So, when going up against a player in a bluff situation, try to develop a Dirty Harry look.
Former trial lawyer turned poker pro Mark Seif explains, “If you have an angry person at the table, people tend not to want to deal with him.” Seif demonstrates by doing his Dirty Harry—the very look he used to win two WSOP bracelets. It works. I no longer want to deal with him.
USE BOTOX
Here’s a poker tip that blew my mind: Wrinkling one’s forehead is an involuntary reaction when showing displeasure. Even seasoned pros like Daniel Negreanu can’t hide it. According to Seif, some players use Botox to hide their forehead reaction so other players won’t be able to read when they’ve drawn a bad hand. (No names mentioned.) Seif reasons, “It’s one less thing for them to worry about.” In the highly competitive poker world, it gives players that muscle-freeze upper hand. (Personally, I’d rather just wear a much bigger hoodie.) So, Botox is not just for women who watch countless hours of Sex and the City.
BE THE HAMMER, NOT THE NAIL
Just as soccer is a 90-minute game, when playing in a tournament, your goal is to make it to the final table. Therefore, don’t be too loose. New players want to be involved in all the action so they end up playing way too many hands. You’ll burn out if you start too fast. Learn to be a tight player and focus on the good hands. Once you start playing fewer hands, you’ll find that the decision-making process becomes easier.
Conversely, new players sometimes don’t play aggressively enough. You’ll get run over at the poker table if you don’t put that foot on the pedal when the time is right. No one likes to get run over. According to our WSOP Academy instructors, poker’s easy when you don’t have to make the tough decisions.
MAKE YOUR RAISES TELL A STORY
I get some “tough love” from Shawn Rice, a poker pro from Texas, as well as a Larry the Cable Guy doppelgänger. “Did someone try to steal the apple out of your lunch sack when you were little?” he scolds.
I’m not sure what that means, but I take it as a reference to my erratic raising ability. Rice insists, “Always raise 60 percent of the pot.” He then stresses that a raise should correspond with your chip-stack size. Always compare how much you have to how much they have in the chip department.
“Think of things in terms of a story,” Rice tells our attentive table of players. “All the information is right in front of you.
“Your betting amount tells what hand you have. Tell a good story. Really sell them on the story. Once you understand the story, you’ll see the art of poker.”
More tough love: Even though I just won a pot with an Ace/King, Rice quotes something from the movie Billy Madison to emphasize how stupid my betting was. “If you’re short stacked, then go all in. Poker’s all about taking advantage of situations.”
Maybe what irked Shawn Rice was that I was trying to be the nail and not the hammer?
FOCUS ON THE CARDS
A hoodie and sunglasses seem to be the standard poker uniform at the WSOP. Former FBI agent/body-language specialist Joe Navarro dismisses the flashy poker acces sories. “It makes you see a lot less at the table,” he stresses with a smirk. Navarro explains that when a player is wearing sunglasses, he is still easy to read: “It doesn’t block how their eyes react when they arch their eyebrows.”
Also forget hiding inconspicuously behind your hoodie: “Hoodies mean nothing—they don’t track how you are sitting, perched, and the position of your hands.”
Navarro believes that hands (human hands) are the biggest giveaway when collecting information on your opponents. Check to see if their hands are flat or arched in a ready-for-action position. When a player shows strong hands, they will be forward into the table, since we tend to move toward things we like. We also subconsciously incarcerate the cards if they have value. Spread fingers also designate a strong hand while fingers close together or thumbs hidden means the player’s hand is weak. (Use this to read his bluff.) For the optimal position, Navarro suggests hiding your thumbs and keeping your elbows in. When other players try to read you, all they’ll get is a blank slate.
TURN THE MUSIC OFF
Wearing headphones at the table while listening to your favorite iPod music shuffle (be it Eye of the Tiger or The Little Mermaid theme) is another big poker fad. Forget it if you want to be a poker purist who can zone into reading the other players.
Navarro stresses, “Don’t listen to music while playing at the tables. You’ll miss the involuntary cathartic exhale of your opponents. Exhaling with puffed cheeks is a pacifier and denotes something negative in the brain.”
True, or maybe Justin Bieber just came into their music mix?
KNOW WHEN TO FOLD
One of my favorite players, Greg “Fossilman” Raymer, offered his tournament winning expertise in poker-hand analysis. Our table is dealt a series of hands. Raymer then critiques our cards to determine if we’ve made the right play. Some Raymer hand insights: Know that it’s okay to fold on Ace/6. Only stay with Queen/8 in accordance to your position at the table. King/Jack is a good hand to open with, but fold after the flop if you’re not going to bluff and the rest of the cards aren’t telling a good story.
EXPLOIT THE WEAK
Early in the game, get a feel for the weak players at the table. Gather information about them and note how they play over a wide range of hands. Then go to town and try to knock them out. In the later stages of the tournament, adjust your play to the stronger players. Bluff more and be aggressive. Stack up those chips. One very weak thing to do: Throw in a $500 chip when you meant to throw in a $25 chip—thus a reason to always make a verbal bet first.
AVOID GETTING “THE TILT”
No one wants “the tilt.” Greg Raymer doesn’t want it. Shawn Rice doesn’t want it. Former FBI agent Joe Navarro doesn’t want it. I had “the tilt” once—it wasn’t pretty. “The tilt” is a state of mental confusion where a player completely loses his shit. The player usually starts to become irrational and overly aggressive with his play. Combat this by always staying in the moment. Analyze every situation, recognize the highs and lows of the game, maintain, and—most important of all—do not give up. Remember, there are only two ways to win in poker: either everyone folds, or you have the best hand. Just ask Puggy Pearson and Amarillo Slim.
You can improve your poker game by going to WSOPAcademy.com. Its new, highly interactive, online school features 24/7 poker training.
12 Essential Fast Fixes
Author: Penthouse Magazine
The ultimate clip-and-save guide to surviving some of life’s biggest hassles. Penthouse has consulted with leading experts to help you out.
By Steven Shawn
Illustrations by Chris Philpot
There’s death, as they say, and there’s taxes. Both reliable. Both terrifying. (Although taxes arguably more so, since they come around annually.) The tax audit is one of the top anxiety-producers for men, right up there with public speaking, the dentist’s drill, and trying to find the clitoris. To get through with your nerves (and bank account) intact:
Stay calm. First of all, until you get the envelope, you shouldn’t fear an audit. Fewer than one in 100 tax returns are challenged for people earning below $100,000, according to the IRS’s own statistics.
Respond. If you’re notified of an audit, read it carefully and follow the instructions. Typically, you’ll have 30 days to answer. If you ignore the notice, the IRS can bill you for what they think you owe, notes Roy Lewis, coauthor of four Motley Fool tax guides.
Get prepped. If any of the requested documents are missing, find them or get copies, writes Lewis. Don’t just show up, dump a load of papers on the auditor’s desk, and say, “Well, that’s all I’ve got.”
Shut the fuck up. Audits are usually about specific aspects of your tax return, not your whole sad or grandiose financial story. In fact, anything you happen to mention in what you think is casual conversation could lead to a widening of the audit, notes Lewis. Avoid small talk. Resist the urge to ask whether Jet Skis are deductible. As much as possible, answer with a simple yes or no.
Send for the cavalry. An audit is like a minor trial. Fine to go it alone if the audit is to request copies of a few specific expenses you’ve deducted. But if it’s anything complicated, it’s best to be represented by an experienced tax pro—the tax world’s equivalent of a lawyer.
2 GET LIPSTICK OFF YOUR COLLAR
Strictly speaking, this can only happen to guys who wear shirts with collars—so a good number of us are exempted. There is, of course, the broader issue of the recalcitrance of lipstick with regard to any clothing onto which it has been smeared, such as T-shirts and even the placket covering the fly of your shorts. But, of course, location of stain is just the tip of the iceberg when it comes to lipstick jeopardy. The salient question is, Whose lipstick is it?
Wife or girlfriend’s lipstick? Get her to clean it! Skip the rest of this item and move along to hassle No. 3. Not your partner’s lipstick? Then you’re going to have to clean up your own mess. Here’s what you need to do, according to that most helpful-hint franchise, Heloise:
Do some reading. Check the garment’s label. If it says “dry clean only,” take it to a cleaner. If it doesn’t …
Blot, don’t rub. Take two hand towels. Place the clothing with the lipstick stain facedown on one towel, suggests Heloise. Dip the other towel in isopropyl rubbing alcohol and gently blot the back of the stain. Repeat until stain is gone.
Blast away residue. Use a spray stain remover such as Shout to remove final traces. Let it sit for 15 minutes or so, then throw the garment in the wash.
The cyclist’s code is never walk if you can ride. If you still have a pump, you can:
Spend some cash. Got a dollar bill handy? If there’s a rip in the tire only, and the tube is still good, deflate the tire and wedge the bill inside the gash, according to a report on AllSands.com.
Crimp the tube. If you have a fast leak in the tube, you can either remount the tire with the bad spot poking slightly outside the rim, or you can fold the tube back on itself inside the rim. In both cases, when you inflate the tube, the pressure will cut off, or slow, the leaking air enough for you to ride home, notes AllSands.com.
No pump handy? Then you can:
Get packing. Gather any soft material you can find, such as grass and leaves. Pack these into the tire and remount it, according to Mark Riedy on Bicycling.com. It’s not going to be a comfy ride, but you’ll get home. To see a video demonstration, go to Howcast.com and look under bike repair.
It’s a wedding/funeral/fancy-dress ball. You got the suit, but forgot to check your shoes. They’re badly scuffed. You need to simply:
Monkey with them. Get a banana. Remove the peel. Eat or dispose of said banana. Rub slimy side of peel on shoes, say the experts at VideoJug.com.
Toss a salad, counters Erin Huffstetler, the resident expert in frugal living at About.com. Stir together olive oil and lemon juice. Rub on shoes.
You were speeding; you got caught. Now what? You can often plea bargain a ticket to eliminate the points on your license, reduce the fine, or both. You do this in much the same way a lawyer does with a prosecutor for more serious offenses. Except you’re the lawyer and the arresting officer usually functions as prosecutor. Your success will depend on your driving history (if you have multiple tickets and are close to losing your license, forget it), the seriousness of the offense (DUI? ditto), and your ability to stay calm and follow a few basic rules, according to Damon Dallah, who writes e-books on the subject.
Plead not guilty. You need to do this to get the court to set a date for a hearing. This doesn’t mean you’re not guilty. It’s your legal right to request a hearing, and, by doing so, you put the burden on the court to prove your guilt.
Have an exit strategy. At the courthouse, if the arresting officer doesn’t show, you can ask for a dismissal right then and there.
Start a conversation. If the officer is present, be respectful. Say words to the effect of, “I have a defense planned, but if a deal is possible, I’d be willing to negotiate,” writes Dallah.
Set a goal. The most important issue is not the fine, but your driving record. Gladly take any offer that will reduce or eliminate points or reduce the charge from speeding to some other nonmoving violation.
How bad are your feet? Real stinkers? Foot odor is caused by bacteria that find a lovely, comfortable home in the warm, moist environment provided by feet. Particularly feet trapped in socks and shoes. To fight that bacteriologic buildup, the editors of Consumer Guide recommend:
Wash your feet often. You need to wash enough to get rid of the bacteria, but not enough so that you wash away the foot’s natural oils. A few times a day, at first, if the odor’s really bad.
Use saline solution. Add half a cup of kosher (large crystal) salt to a quart of water and soak your feet.
Powder them. Try some cornstarch in your socks.
Deodorize. You can use the same stuff you spray on your underarms.
Sock it to ’em. Buy a few pairs of socks that advertise “wicking” action. You can usually find these in a sporting-goods store.
Do your laundry. Wash socks after every use, even if you’ve worn them for just for a few hours. Many canvas shoes or sneakers can go straight in the wash. Let them air dry.
7 DEFEND AGAINST A SHARK ATTACK
Sharks are big, lazy, and brutal. They’ll opt for the sneak attack, chomping down with a force of approximately 300 pounds, says Alley, an ocean studies major at Yahoo! Answers. To defend yourself:
Dry off. “Exit the water as quickly as possible,” advises Scott Conger, a shark expert and owner of Tarpon Springs Aquarium. Hmmm, you probably didn’t need us to tell you that. So, if you can’t flee …
Don’t act like dinner. Sharks don’t really like to eat people. The chance of being attacked by a shark is one in 11.5 million, according to the International Shark Attack File. If you’re aware of a shark’s presence, stay vertical in the water and don’t splash around. If you’re horizontal and splashing, you’ll resemble a seal, says Alley. And sharks love seal.
Fight back. Grab anything you can—a rock, a diver’s knife (assuming you’re a diver)—and pound on the approaching fish. Aim for the eyes, gills, or snout, which are the shark’s most sensitive places. Don’t use your bare hands if possible, since shark skin is extremely abrasive.
Retreat. If you can, back up against a rock formation. It’ll keep the shark on one side of you, and make its attack more difficult, according to eHow.com.
8 REMOVE A BEE STINGER
It’s no picnic getting stung by a bee—particularly at a picnic. It’s important to remember: The bee did not attack you. It was simply defending itself—or thought it was. You sat on it, bit it when it landed on your sandwich, or otherwise violated its hive space. Before you apply the ointment or balm, you have to remove the stinger, which has a little barb on it that hooks under your skin. The stinger contains venom, and if you leave it in, it will continue to seep venom. Into you, that is. (Also, there’s a risk of infection.) Fortunately, it’s quite easy to remove a bee stinger.
Charge it. Locate a plain old credit card. Visa, MasterCard, Amex—the bee doesn’t care which, or about your credit rating. Identify the stinger: It should be protruding slightly from your skin. Then scrape horizontally across the surface with the card. This should remove the stinger, according to Jennifer Pointon, writing on eHow.com. No card? A fingernail will often do the trick.
Soothe it. Now that the stinger is out, apply a cold compress to the site of the sting.
Paste it. After icing the spot, apply a paste made of baking soda and water. If you don’t have baking soda on hand, sprinkle some meat tenderizer or honey on the sore spot.
The first and most important principle of getting a good night’s sleep is to set up the conditions that lead to a good snooze, according to experts at the Mayo Clinic. Their advice is to eat lightly before bedtime, skip naps, and use blackout curtains to keep your bedroom extra dark. Other basics from the Mayo Clinic include:
Do something habit-forming. Go to sleep at the same time every night of the week. This includes weekends. The human body clock likes to be on a schedule. Don’t fuck with it.
Bore yourself. Don’t: watch TV, surf the internet, or play videogames. (TV exception: Some insomniacs report great success watching C-SPAN.) Do: Read a book about Eastern European architecture.
Stay calm. Avoid getting into confrontations within an hour of bedtime.
Don’t exercise. Exercise in the daytime = good. Exercise within a few hours of sleep time = bad. That’s
because exertion raises your core temperature, and increases brain activity and alertness.
Still not getting any shut-eye? Try some of these lesser-known and counterintuitive tactics:
Scare yourself. “Think of something that is deeply disturbing, or recall an incident you’d really rather forget,” says Frayda Kafka, a certified hypnotherapist based in New York’s Hudson Valley. “Your mind can’t deal with it, and you’ll fall asleep.”
Trick yourself. Tell yourself you want to stay awake. You absolutely positively do not wish to fall asleep. That’s the advice of Yan Muckle, a Quebecbased writer and former insomniac. If you doubt this works, think of how excruciatingly difficult it is to stay awake in a long afternoon meeting, when you’re trying your damnedest to look alert.
Have a drink. “Drink half a glass of water, then put a pinch of salt on your tongue,” advises fitness trainer Brooke Bennis, D.O. “The combination alters the electrical charge to the brain to sleep mode.”
10 SURVIVE A BAR FIGHT
Guy walks into a bar. Another guy says, “What’re you lookin’ at?”
No, this isn’t the start of one of those jokes your daddy used to tell you, involving an organ grinder’s monkey, a midget, and a baseball glove. It’s about trouble.
Trouble tends to congregate in bars, even in cheerful bars where, like, everybody knows your name. Bar fights build slowly but turn ugly fast. If you’re paying attention, you can often see them coming a mile away, like those lumbering monsters in black-and-white horror flicks. Similar to slow-mo monsters in the movies, fights are hard to avoid. Remember, you’re dealing with drunks, which is like dealing with infants—if infants weighed 200 pounds and were spoiling for trouble.
Try some patience. “Anger is as contagious as any germ,” Roland D. Maiuro, Ph.D., clinical director of the Seattle Anger Management, Domestic Violence, and Workplace Conflict Programs, told The Seattle Times. Don’t let the germ spread. Let’s say you accidentally knock over a guy’s beer. Act normal. Apologize. Offer to buy the guy another beer. Don’t allow it to become a big deal.
Act whacked. If things start to escalate, you can often defuse a fight by reacting disproportionately, according to a former spy who goes by the moniker “Burn Notice” and posts video tips on WonderHowTo.com. Take a step toward your opponent and scream menacingly at the top of your lungs. This action should scare him and also make you look insane, which should scare him further. If that doesn’t work …
Scram. Split. Take a hike. Get the hell outta Dodge. Exit stage right. Head for the hills, says Burn Notice. Sometimes hoofing it is your best course of action.
When your tooth aches, it’s different from having a sore elbow or a hang nail or any other pain in your body. It’s Grand Central pain, not something you can identify as separate from your being. Some solutions, according to den tists at the Atlanta Dental Group PC:
Chill it. Either hold an ice cube against the sore spot or sip ice-cold water.
Oil it. If you’ve lost a filling, dip a cotton ball in clove oil and apply it to the cavity.
Ultimately, fix it. Neither of the above will cure the underlying problem. Get to a dentist as quickly as possible.
An old girlfriend or your parents have just dropped in from out of town. You get a call with a pretty broad hint about stopping by. No, they don’t just want to go to a restaurant. Slight problem: Your place is a pigsty. There’s no time for deep cleaning. Here’s what to do, according to Sarah Aguirre, reporting for About.com (note: If a guy is dropping in, you can skip all these tips. Just go out and buy a six-pack):
Point of odor. Spray air freshener around. Not too much!
Declutter. Find an empty box or laundry bin—anything!—and start tossing in loose clothes, candy wrappers, pizza boxes, damp bathroom towels, dirty dishes, and the like. Fill it up and stick it in the back of the closet. Target the most important areas. Where are you going to be hanging out? Living room? Bedroom? Hit up these areas first. Throw everything in a closet.
Wipe. Grab a rag, a towel, or an old T-shirt. Spray with cleaning solution (409 or Fantastik if you have it; diluted dish soap if you don’t). Wipe down kitchen surfaces first, then bathroom, and finally the dining room table.
Give yourself a once-over. Aguirre points out that your visitors are not coming to see your house, really, are they? Look in the bathroom mirror. Shave. Brush hair. Check clothes…consider changing into something you haven’t been wearing for four days.
Distract. If you have anything colorful—a plant or a bouquet of flowers or a beautiful coffee-table book—use it to distract your guests, says hypnotherapist Kafka. “I throw a brightly colored dish towel over my dishes. Someone looks in my kitchen, they see the red thing and they don’t notice anything else.”
Dim the lights. Another way to distract, according to Kafka: Light some candles, if you have any. Nothing hides imperfections better than low lighting.
Finally, don’t apologize. “Don’t call attention to its imperfections,” says Kafka. Just man up and act like you’re proud of the dump.
Playing the Age Card
Author: Penthouse Magazine
Now that I’m in my thirties, I can attest that passing into the middle-age years bears one incredible gift: a new way to avoid shit that annoys me.
By Chris Illuminati • Illustration by Chris Hiers
With age comes perks. The year on a birth certificate allows access past the velvet ropes of some of life’s guilty pleasures. You drive a car at 16 or 17. At 18, you drive that car to the nearest strip club. The milestone of 21 allows you to legally drink and gamble. (Note the word legally.) A friend commented at my 21st-birthday shindig that there’s not much to celebrate about aging after blowing out the flames on the giant “2” and “1” candles. He was correct. Every birthday since then has been an absolute fucking bore. Thirty was no big deal. I could give a shit about the impending 4-0, literally and figuratively, depending on how gentle the doctor is during my recommended prostate exam.
My progression in years, however, has led to a new found freedom from obligatory bullshit, a regression in the behavior society deems appropriate and necessary for a man. While most guys become more docile and compliant each year (the “suck it up” mentality), I’ve decided to free myself of all those obligations, occasions, responsibilities, and situations that annoy the shit out of me. This is me flashing my age credentials. I was born in 1977. Yes, it was a very good year. Now to reap some benefits.
The beer in my fridge is just as cold as the beer at the bar, and I’m too old to let uninterested women milk me for drinks. Let the kid down the street sweat through his boxers while cutting the grass. I’ll hand him a crisp Ulysses S. for his troubles. A man my age doesn’t attend all-day concerts, and he certainly doesn’t piss and drink on the same spot of land. Plus, I can finally tell my mother no. “I’m 33 years old, Mom! I don’t have to attend every family function. I don’t care how disappointed Uncle Cecil will be if I’m a no-show at his salute-to-spring party. Didn’t Uncle Cecil miss my high school graduation? What goes around comes around.”
I’m not alone. This could almost be considered acceptable behavior in men of a certain age. Clinical psychologist Dr. Jacob Small explains,
“What feels right can, over time, also feel constraining and obligatory, leading to what psychologists call ‘reactance,’ or an obstinate rejection of those responsibilities.”
Whatever that psycho-speak means, I’m just tired of doing shit because I’m guilted into it by society, the media, and Hallmark/American Greetings. My first great age-inspired rebellion was a gift to myself in my mid-twenties, and it set the wheels in motion for the crash of a five-year relationship. I had been unhappy for months, but stayed with her because it was the adult thing to do. “Relationships hit rough spots,” people told me. “Weather the storm. You’ll be happy when you’re married.” Doubtful. The two biggest hurdles in that race to the altar were religion and sex—too much of one and none of the other.
The argument started because she was expecting an engagement ring. I told her I didn’t have any money to spend on a ring. She asked about the money I’d been saving, and I told her to stop being ridiculous. That money was long gone, spent on a trip to Las Vegas with four friends. What trip to Vegas? Oh, right, sorry, forgot to tell you. I’m going to Vegas…with the boys…and without you.
The truth is, I was unhappy. I dreaded the life that was coming if I gave her that ring. I was too old (or was it too young?) to be unhappy. I was definitely too old to be told how and where to spend my money. “I think this is understood well in terms of an age-related conflict of identity,” says Dr. Small. “You’re struggling to define yourself in terms of who you are, who you feel you ought to be, and who you want yourself to be.”
Well, now I’m well on my way to being the man I want to be, and combining that with who I ought to be. I’m looking forward to reaching an advanced age and living life like a carefree, Metamucil-chugging Master of the Universe who just doesn’t give a fuck anymore. I’m looking forward to it so much that I refuse to wait. I’m going to emulate those men in their sixties and seventies who display more of a “this is my life—go fuck yourself” attitude than any rebellious teen. Those old coots figuratively spit in society’s face and society takes it because they’ve earned respect by being our elders. Or it could be because the old fucks could drop dead at any moment. Whatever the reason, I yearn for the carte blanche attitude and tapioca-pudding treats that await me at Trembling Hills for the Old and Soon Departed.
Hopefully my kids will come by to say hello once in a while. They shouldn’t feel obligated, though. They’ll be old enough to make their own choices. And if they’re too busy to visit the old man, I’ll choose to call them selfish bastards…and society will forgive me.