Well ’tis the season to be snarky. Shoutouts are coming to town and we hope you’ve all been very naughty.
Get your submissions in by November 23rd to SHOUTOUTS@34ST.COM or online RIGHT HERE through UTB’s annual handy dandy anonymous tip box.
Sup’ brahs? Street‘s back this week with a feature–length piece on R5 Productions and its brand new music venue, Union Transfer. Spoiler: the concert space sold out its first show, Clap Your Hands Say Yeah on September 22.
We’ve got a complete guide to the Popped! music festival – make sure you don’t miss these top acts this weekend. For a more sultry look at the arts, check out this review of the Erotic Literary Salon.
We’ve also got a review of Brad Pitt’s new film, Moneyball and a spotlight on COOK, a downtown kitchen classroom that is simply mouth–watering.
Want more Ego of the Week? This week, basketball bid Jess Knapp and soccer star Adrienne Lerner show you how to really win a thumb war.
Tryna’ get your giggle on? See what’s up with Lowbrow here.
It’s Street Shoutout time again! E-mail them to firstname.lastname@example.org by April 18th at noon.
You should know what to do, but in case you don’t: check out Lowbrow eds Ben Rosen and Charlotte Borgen’s friendly advice for crafting the perfect Shoutout.
Be genuine. Say what you feel in your heart of hearts.
EXAMPLE: To the girl on Beige who gets lots of attention: That’s because you have big jugs. I mean, your boobs are huge. I mean, I wanna squeeze ‘em!
If you’re going to shout someone out, why not own up to it?
EXAMPLE: To the MERT whose bike I stole: Sorry. From, the jackass who ended up having to call you and get medical amnestied five minutes later.
Sometimes less is more.
EXAMPLE: To the football player who begged me to hold his dick while he peed: No.
More pearls of Shoutout wisdom, after the jump.
This is your friendly Street reminder to GET YOUR SHOUTOUTS IN BY SUNDAY, NOVEMBER 15TH AT NOON. The following is a spattering of previously published Shoutouts for your inspiration. Though these are some oldies but goodies, we know you can do better, assholes.
To Penn guys: We know it was hard to get into this school, so why can’t you stay hard to get into me?
To my Math 170 Prof: So you’re a tad overweight – it’s fine. You’re funny as shit, so I’d do you anyway. It would be like a night in the sack with Roseanne.
To the big Jew I hooked up with during NSO: Sorry your roommates thought I was loud, I was just trying to make you stop.
To the Izzy and Zoe’s lady with a face growing on her herpes: Stop working in the food service industry.
To the loquacious Writer’s House senior who has been in three of my f-ing writing seminars and talks incessantly about her breasteses and how much everyone else’s papers are “cliche” and “stale”: Shut the fuck up. Shut. the. Fuck. up. Seriously, shut the fuck up.
To my roommate who memorized my schedule so he knows when to masturbate: I’m skipping Econ on Monday.
And remember: send ‘em to email@example.com!