Meet Our Match

This just in: St. Louisans are sexy, literate and breathing in way too many toxins; Unreal is invited to take part in uprisings -- legally sanctioned and otherwise; and the P-D editorial staff takes God to task

Sep 3, 2003 at 4:00 am
St. Louis is the 24th hottest city in the country, and we're not talking about the humidity.

According to data compiled by -- Earth's greatest Web site, where you post a picture and get rated on a scale of 1 to 10 -- St. Louis women are the 24th hottest in the nation and St. Louis men are 36th, behind such stud powerhouses as Boise and Omaha. (D.C. chicks and Miami dicks rocked their respective top spots.)

If you look long enough you may find Unreal ourself on the site, destroying the competition with a blazing 9.3. But even if you don't, giving 1s to the bitchiest, blondest, wouldn't-do-you-in-high-school-looking girls is a thrill. Even more exciting is the "Meet Me" section, where above your picture you post keywords indicating your interests and hope for a mutual match.

And we've found some matches, oh yes we have:

"I enjoy working out, travel, friends, family, movies, volunteer work, animals, being a vegetarian, honest, sincere, having a sexy partner, fun, down to earth, and flexible."

Grammatically, this one's a little suspect, but any flexible vegetarian deserves a sexy partner.

"I am 18 years old, 5'5", 105lbs. I love boating, and beaches, and boys. I live in St. Louis, Missouri AKA Nellyville. I listen to all types of music, I'm a dancer, and I play the guitar. And I plan on moving to California."

Too bad she's leaving, because Unreal enjoys boating, beaches, and, um, boys too.

"Wouldn't it be so wonderful if everything were meaningless? But everything is so meaningful. And most everything turns to shit. Rejoice."

Bummer about this one. We had a really good feeling about her. But alas, we just couldn't figure out where she was coming from on a metaphysical level. So it's not going to work.

That and she didn't return our e-mails. :(

Dead Last

Speaking of rankings, you may recall that according to a recent University of Wisconsin-Whitewater study, the home of Kate Chopin, William S. Burroughs and Unreal is the 17th most literate city in the nation.

Well, guess what? "All our knowledge merely helps us to die a more painful death than the animals that know nothing," as the Belgian poet Maurice Maeterlinck said.

In its most recent issue, Organic Style magazine ( offers "Healthy Cities," which ranks the health of 125 U.S. cities based on air quality, toxic releases and agricultural pollution. And where, Unreal wondered, does St. Louis stand?

That's right: 125th.

Of course, the accompanying article says, just because you live in a low-ranking city doesn't mean you're gonna keel over and die.

But still.

Guess the only thing to do is keep on reading.

Put Up Your Dukes

Saturday, September 6 brings the second installment of amateur boxing at the City Museum. The inaugural event in March took place amid a feud between promoter Steven Fitzpatrick Smith, kingpin of the International Brotherhood of the Sweet Science (IBSS), and Myrl Taylor, president of Ozark Boxing, the regional branch of national amateur governing body USA Boxing (see Randall Roberts' April 2 cover story "The Boxers' Rebellion").

Though Taylor had earlier deemed Smith "a fucking idiot" for staging backyard-style, unsanctioned fights, he mellowed considerably after attending that first event. This time around, Smith says, he and Taylor are "testing the waters" of cooperation.

Taylor confirms via e-mail that he'll be providing a boxing ring, officials (including Taylor himself), fight doctors and referee training. "If YOU plan to start some shit out of this and try to urge them to defy the law which you seem to think some people's political pull can overcome," he tells Unreal, "all you would be doing is trying to put some young people who have worked very hard to perform in this event 'in harms way!'"

(Unreal, of course, has no such intention.)

Smith, who says his grandmother was aghast at all the cussing he did in the RFT's April story, is cautiously optimistic: "The IBSS is confident that USA Boxing will show fair and professional respect to our fighters, the fighters' support staff and the game that the IBSS has developed."

(He also invited Unreal to lace on the gloves and join in, but we're not having any of that, either.)

The event, which will include four to six bouts, commences at 5 p.m.

Legionnaire Disease

Packed shoulder-to-shoulder with the rest of the media in a makeshift pen at America's Center, waiting for President George W. Bush to address the American Legion's annual national convention last Tuesday, Unreal was getting a little, well, uneasy. It's one thing to be forced to listen to repeated renditions of "Tie a Yellow Ribbon" and another to be subjected to the vicious taunts of passing Legionnaires: "Try getting it right this time. Tell us what he says instead of what you think!" one vet barked.

After the speech Unreal tagged along with KMOV-TV (Channel 4) reporter John Mills. Following the smell of Aqua Velva, mothballs and political pandering, we made our way into the Renaissance Ballroom, where Missouri Senator Kit Bond was holding a $1,000-a-plate fundraiser. Unfortunately, we were relegated to a holding area in the back of the room, where we were forced to watch rich white Republicans gorge themselves on Champagne, grilled Angus beef tenderloin and triple-chocolate torte.

It was too much for Unreal. Hopping over the velvet rope, we stumbled into the hallway, where we encountered a line of hotel workers in freshly pressed white uniforms. A receiving line where the president would express his gratitude to the residents there to serve him and his hosts? No, just the clean-up squad, one of whom grabbed our shoulder and pleaded, "Take our picture!"

"Rise up!" we cried, then launched a failed assault on the open bar.