February 6th thru the 12th, 2005

Sunday February 6th, 2005: Superbowl Sunday

Are You Ready for Some Whatever?
Squidevil asked me to show him where the "Budweiser Ad You Won't See During the Superbowl" is located, and it turns out it's at Budweiser.com. You'll have to enter your age before you enter the site: don't lie.

Also, word on the street is that Homestarrunner will have a football half-time show.

Patriots Defeat Eagles, 24-21.
Me and two hot babes went to IHOP to work off the alcohol from the night before. I had the big-ass sampler, which is less a description of the platter of bacon sausage ham eggs hashbrowns and pancakes, and more a desciption of my posterior situation after eating it. But who cares. Then I went home and with my neighbor we went to his friends' house to watch the game. Good commercials, good game. Here's some fake sports reporting, just make it look like I know what I am talking about.

Wow, that's magical writing. I need some Pepto-Bismal. After that I went home, read a bit, fell asleep.

Monday February 7th, 2005

A poem left on a whiteboard. Note the errant "gloss" in red letters next to "pork." The photographer categorically denies having made this gloss, or even that it exists. The author of the analysis below maintains that it is irrelevant.

The first line sets up the entire tone of the message. "Thanks for the hot pork." This is what is known as a double-entendre. "hot pork" might seem to refer to sex, since the other meaning, that of bacon, is not what one would expect to receive thanks for. That one thanks a person for bacon nevertheless is what is known as "irony," and irony is always the key to any thing. This is ostensibly supported by the second line, "The bed was comfy too." The use of the word "too," suggest that it stands in opposition to anything involving "hot pork," for one would not use separate uses of "thanks" for the different elements of hot-pork-as-sex, since the use of the slang would probably be used to encompass all of the elements-- the drunken foreplay, the timid and yet ineffectual hip gyrations, the sweaty, un-asked for cuddling, and the early-morning snores while the one attempts to use the bathroom without waking the other for, god please no, a request for a second try. However, the irony is brought back again by the seeming non-sequitter of the third line. "Jeezus my head hurts." Note the misspelling, or slang use, of the word "Jesus," which echoes the slang of "hot pork," lending credence to a sexual reference afterall, setting up "too," as an ironic adverb. Note also that sex often utilizes heart-felt cries of "Jesus," and so the misspelling connotes the mistakes of inebriated fornication. And the entire line lends itself to the suggestion of a head being knocked repeatedly into a headboard, an obvious reference to sex. And a delicious irony, for the connotation of head-against-the-headboard-sex is that of good, vigorous sex, while the "Jeezus," as we saw, means bad sex. By this time the reader has been taken away from thinking of the poem as referential to sex due to the obvious double-entendre, only to have been taken back again by the stacking ironies. The following heart symbol seems to finally solidify the sex ideal, but the poet has one final irony in store for the reader. The poem is signed "Clytemenstra." This is the famous lady of Greek myth, the one who has a torrid affair with Aegisthus after her husband, Agamemnon, goes off to the Trojan wars. When she discovers that he is returning from the wars with a second wife, she decides to have him killed. The poet, thus, is suggesting that the reader is Cassandra, Agamemnon's second wife. Hot pork is Agamemnon, slaughtered like a pig, the bed is comfortable because she controls it now, not Agamemnon, and her head hurts from the sin of killing her husband. The reader is Cassandra, symbolically, the one who in the end is sacrificed as an unwitting accomplice to the subjects through which the poet works her inborn murderous desires (for just as the jewel is an accomplice to the thief, or the altar boy makes the Priest's sins possible, so too does Clytemnestra need an Agamemnon for her to commit murder). In other words, the reader must by the end of poem consider himself to have been slain by the poet's desire to ironically "murder" or "poke fun at" the ideas of sex. It's sex itself which has received the "hot pork." In this way the poem is not only ironic, it is meta-ironic.

I Came, I Bowled, I Conquered
But not at bowling. Woojy needed a ride to Renton for an errand, so I provided that, then back to Leilani Lanes for some good time bowling action. Despite my teammates doing very well and my getting at least my average, we lost to 3 bouncy girls, their very high handicaps, and their bowling way above their own averages. But good for them. I'd been dying to make the acquintance of one of them anyway, and now that I have, I can start laying on the charm. Then at the crucial moment, I'll play the friend card, have a buddy for life, and never ever get the chance to see her naked. Ah delight.

After that I and the Woojster went over to an apartment that had people in it, where we ate cake and played the 90's Edition of Trivial Pursuit. This is where the conquering part came in, as my team won. The answer to our winning question was "Tonya Harding." That's freaking awesome. I always liked her. She has spunk.

Tuesday February 8th, 2005: Mardi Gras

Now it's your turn. Go nutso.

Elisabeth Rohm, Please.
All things in excess. It's my middle name. I blog too much; you'd think I could look back and find if I've discussed something before, but no, there's too much. Ah well, viva redundancy, then. I don't know if I've mentioned Elisabeth Rohm before; can't imagine that I have not, because she is tasty like sunshine. But I can't find a picture of her in my image archive, so here's one. Squidevil watched the first disc of Angel Season One recently, and expressed that the character Kate is much to his liking. Using him as an excuse, then, a picture of her. Here ya go, fella. This is her from Law and Order, which she is not on anymore. What is she doing these days? Miss Congeniality 2: Armed and Fabulous. God help us.

My GAJAT Necklace.
Check out my sexy new necklace. One of my very good friends over at Gajat made it. Or GaJaT. When they have a web presence, I'll make sure to link it. Until then, look for them at the Ballard and Fremont Markets this spring. They make exquisite, tasteful bead jewelry and wine charms. They are trully talented. No, you don't understand. Any damn fool can stick some beads on a string and come back from summer camp with enough crap to make mommy look like a technicolor ghetto b-boy. But it takes talent and artistry to make the pieces they produce. They got skills. Learn it.

Men's Health Magazine Sucks
I few months ago one of those kids looking to get into college by selling magazine subscriptions came by and i was a mood so I said why not-- but the only magazine out of all of them that looked even remotely interesting was Men's Health. Ever since then, I cringe at each issue. What a bunch of minless pap. Recycled mindless pap. I'm going to give you an excerpt from one of the columms. The subject is oral sex, and the "answer" is allegedly written a female columnist, one Nicole Beland.

Q: How can I make a woman believe I realy do like going down on her? -- Anthony, via e-mail. A: A woman's relationship with her vagina is a lot like your relationship with the engine of your car. We check the oil, we take it to the garage, we keep it clean and runn ing smoothly. The idea of licking it-- and enjoying licking it-- strikes us as somewhere between ridiculous and gross. (Of course, most of us really love it when you do.) What you need to do is remind her that you think of her vagina in a completely different, and far more fascinating, way. This means you can't just tell her that you "really like going down on her"; you have to go nuts over it. Declare her vulva to be the most beautiful thing you've ever seen. Tell her you love how she tastes. Say it turns you on, and then show her the undeniably hard evidence. And, of course, the more often and more enthusiastically you do it, the more obvious it'll be that, to you, mowing her lawn is anything but a chore.

Holy crap. Or just crap. I hope the ladies who read this Blog realize that I know this is not what modern feminism is all about. In the first place, she makes a lame-ass car analogy as if that's the only language a man understands. Next she says women don't understand why guys go down, but they love it when guys do. She is basically saying woman can't think very well, but its okay if it feels good. Then she goes on to suggest that men should get OCD about going down, because spoken communication just isn't enough for women's easily confused brains. I mean, come on, ladies, am I wrong, or if I acted like she suggests around your vulva, wouldn't you think I was some sort of freak? Then she closes by screwing up her previous analogy, switching from car engines to lawn maintainance.

Here's BUKKHEAD'S advice. If you like to go down, Anthony, tell her you like to, and then ASK if she would let you do something YOU enjoy. Unless she is already uncomfortable with it, she will let you, because even if she doesn't ENJOY it herself, it doesn't hurt. Sex is an ACT of COMMUNICATION. And if the two of you get good at TALKING, then she may delight you one day by ASKING you to go down before you even ask to yourself. Don't try any of Nicole's tricks, above. Women can't be programmed like monkeys. You can't condition them like Pavlov's dogs to get wet in the trousers everytime you say "hooray, nookie!" before you dive in. But you can TALK to them, and just as important, LISTEN. It doesn't happen overnight, Anthony-- and wouldn't be worth it if it did.

Coffee And Fat Tuesday
Went to my coffee thing. It's at Revolutions, in the Green Lake Condominiums. On person who I was hoping to see did not show, but another person that I really wanted to see did show, and so I was happy. Then someone else arrived and reminded us that it was Mardi Gras today. I had not realized. Last year I made a cool Blog logo for it and everything. Ah well. Life be as it is. Anyway, we had some 10 or so people there altogether, which was good. Afterwards I went home, ate some Ramen, drank a Mountain Dew, and fell asleep.

Wednesday February 9th, 2005: Wild Parrot Day

Wild Parrot Day
Verbatim from a friend's e-mail: The San Francisco Board of Supervisors declared Feb 9 "Wild Parrot Day" in San Francisco, in honor of the colorful birds that flock to Telegraph Hill. "The wild parrots' great-hearted lunacy makes us laugh," reads the resolution, sponsored by board President Aaron Peskin. The birds, which are descended from escaped pets, are featured in local filmmaker Judy Irving's documentary "Wild Parrots of Telegraph Hill." http://www.pelicanmedia.org/wildparrots.html

Chevre, Chantico, and la Chantereusse
I had lunch which was good but I don't know the name of the restaurant. It was in the University District. The "chantereusse" is really not a singer at all, but I was going for the alliteration. Actually, she's quite sick, and might die soon. Not literally, of course. But the sandwich really did have feta on it. And steak. And onions. And eating food with onions is good because the onions make you taste the other ingrediants all day long. I think I like feta-and-onion burps MORE than feta itself. After all of that I had a Chantico at Starbucks. See? I told you blogs are usually boring.

Chinese New Year
According to the arted-up logo on Google today, it's the Chinese New Year. The Lunar New Year. This will be the year of the rooster. Also, its the year called Yiyou. Also, its the year 4702. Since I write a fake horoscope for The Lawrencian, I bet I can write a fake Chinese Horoscope. Roosters, after all (those born in such years) are known for being shrewd, confidant, with an eye for detail and a sometimes scary ability to remember even the smallest things. So this year will be the year of figuring things out. Gone are the days of confusion when we not only couldn't remember why we bought baby blue undewrwear, so too are the complacent sighs as we took them off our heads and put them on our butts and went on with our day. Not only will we pay with exact change more often this year, we'll manage to often pay with coins that were all minted in the same decade. And for once, and only this once, the girl at the Taco Bell won't think we are complete and total geeks for pointing this out as we hand the change over. Her mind will change later, of course, when we end up wearing more of our Chalupa than eating it thanks to laughing so hard at the jokes we finally get in the Mad Magazine we brought with us to lunch, but that's better than the Mountain Dew Code Red we spilled on our new khakis last time thanks to a fit of sneezing from too much pepper on the Gorditas. This is going to be a great Chinese New Year!

The Gym, The Ducks, New York, and Tea
Went with my gym buddy and her husband to Gold's where we made with the sweat on elliptical machinery. Then home for me. I had taken down all the ducks to make sure I knew which ones I needed to photograph, so I finally got them all back on the shelves. Somehow I made room for them all and there's even a bit extra. Looks like I need to get more. A hottie from New York and I had a very nice long conversation. She's amazing and she knows it and it was our longest conversation ever because I time them. I keep an Excel spreadsheet. Then I decided to DDR so I DDR'd a bit, got nice and sweaty, and then some Chinese people brought over some food. Then Gladiolus dropped by and we talked about how she is allergic to sodium lauryl sulfate. Then I slept and had a weird dream about a person I never want to think about again for the rest of my life.

Thursday February 10th, 2005

Fake News
Today dissidents staged a protest at the America Online embassy on the Compuserve networks, lobbing spam and waving chat placards that read "Get Your Portals Out of My ISP!" Tensions were high as riot-admins held the crowd at bay, though protestors quickly dispersed when a suicide-email packed with 12 cc's of trojan virus attempted to take down the embassy. Fortunatly, Norton Marines were able to subdue the virus before it could do any damage. This marks the fifth anti-American Online protest since the New Year, with embassies at other ISPs also seeing attacks as well as a demonstration at a Comp USA parking lot where a mob burned millions of "free" AOL CDs. A spokesperson for Yahoo! and their new internet providing services gave no comment at a recent press conference, but were clearly tickled pink.

Target
Mitch Hedberg said, "I tried to walk into Target once, but I missed." Well I didn't! Look at all this stuff I bought. A 12-pack of Coca Cola. A Huffysports Mini Tabletop Basketball Free Throw Game. A pair of Jerzees shorts. A Merona nylon easy-wick sports shirt. Wilson racquetballs. a four pack of Fruit of the Loom boxer-briefs. A 6-pack of Hanes premium cushion crew Socks. An HP inkjet printer cartdridge. A Munchkin safety bath ducky. a 3-pack of Boley splash&dash squeeze toys. I just wanted the printer cartdridge! It was, all by itself, half of the total bill. Heh.

Radical Faith
I have many much DDR songs on my computer. I have them playing on a random shuffle right now. "Radical Faith," one of my all time favorites, came on, so I had to run upstairs and play it real quick. That's an eight-footer, and I am out of practice, and I NAILED it. Viva El Me. Now I'm going to go play "Sana Morette Ne Ente." [pause while I am away.] NAILED IT! NEW HIGH SCORE! Who is your daddy? But the beat goes on. Then "Synchronized Love" started playing. Back to the pad I go, to try this eight footer on heavy-- My previous best score was only a C! I got a B! On double speed (forgot to re-adjust it after Sana Morette, which has dense steps.) I am WINDED, baby. And sweaty? Pope's got crosses? Word. I better update this before I step again.

Taxes
I did my taxes. I used TurboTax for the Web. That makes it SO easy. I highly recommend it. Shall I use the same graphic I used last year? Why not.

Netflix
I joined Netflex. Looks like I have a new excuse for a sidebar. I joined cause its free for two weeks, and there are a lot of TV shows I want to try out before I end up paying $70 for the whole series. I was a member of Netflix once before. My then roommate just wanted to see all of Queer As Folk, which she sometimes made me watch as well. That was not fun. But look to the right now, and see what's in my queue. After I joined and chose a bunch, I rated about 500 movies so they could make recommendations. I figure I'll rate another 500 or so today. I wonder if it's possible to llist every film I've ever seen? I wonder if I could find a better waste of my time?

Barbecue and Eco Too
The rest of the day was uneventful. I decided to head out find some barbecue. Man, I was in a FOUL mood. It was disgusting, destructive, damnable. At one point I was trying to make a left turn, I was in te interestiong, waiting for the on-coming car to go on thru, the light turned yellow, and the other car decided to stop in the middle of the intersection, such that i could not go. I was forced to go straight through. That's not the point. The point is two blocks later I barked my disgust out loud. Its no bog deal, right? I mean I was not in a hurry or anything. There were a fewmore incidents like that on the drive. I just hate driving.
Also, I kept having arguments with imaginary interlocutors, either people I know who I feel wronged me in some way, or persons from hypothetical situations. They were rather violent arguments as well, and useless to the highest degree. Finally I found Smokin Pete's BBQ, got some brisket to go (since a band playing in the corner, I couldn't stay and read) and then I went home and I ate while working my way through The Name of the Rose.

Friday February 11th, 2005

Sandwiches
Had lunch with two womens, one with pale skin and one with dark. I got an AMAZING parking spot next to Baguette Box, but then the sick princess made us march to the Honey Hole. But the woman at BB was cute, so I went back after and bought a tuna with boiled egg to go. AT HH I had the Corleone, which is yur basic pastrami on toasted rye with saurkraut. 'Twas tasty. I don't remember what-all we talked about. Not sex.

Which Do You Care More About?
Arthur Miller died and Prince Charles is going to marry Camilla Parker-Bowles. I'm not a fan of any of that. Nor opposed to it either, for the record. Arty wrote some good stuff, I guess, and I should care cause I was a writer once. Also he was married breifly to Marilyn Monroe and I myself had a brief affair with a woman of legendary beauty. So we have that in common; also, one day I will be dead. But I don't really care too much. And as for Chuckles and Cammy, well, he IS a divorceé, and will be the head of ther Anglican church of Liz2 would just kick the bucket. Not to mention Cammy herself will be the Princess Consort when Chuck's king, and her with a still-living ex-- what do you call yourself when your ex is the Princess Consort? I don't care about any of that either, truthfully, though if they gave me the documents, I'd make Chuck abdicate and make William abdicate too, so Harry could run the show. Now THAT boy would make a good king!

Treadmills and Lunch Money
Went over to the Gold's Gym on Broadway and rode some elliptical machine with Astoria. Then I bought two red onions in the QFC in the same building. What is this place called Seattle where a man can go to the gym and to the grocery store in the same building? It's a good place, at any rate. Also in the QFC was one of the most beautiful women I have ever seen. She had that pale laplander skin with the permanent blush on the cheeks. Very full lips. Big eyes, and dark, darker even than people who's skin is dark. So now it looks like I have to do all my grocery shopping on weeknights on Broadway. Incovenient? Yes. Worth it? Hell yes.

Thence to Dizzle's place for saffron soup and Lunch Money, a card game, and Chez Geek, another card game. Fun good happy times. But damnit all to hell she has an iPod, and now I want one, BAD! I mean real bad. I mean like I have been spending hours on the iPod website, trying to justify it all. I HAVE an MP3 player! I have two of them! One's an Archos Jukebox, which has 10G and I use it as a sort of extra hard drive. I have about 6.4G of music on it. The other is more portable Nomad II, which holds about 3 hours of music at a time. Ooh but these iPods are sexy. Damn it.

Saturday February 12th, 2005

Netflix Happens
I was delighted to return home to find Netflix had been delivered to my door. The disks come in from Tacoma, it seems, so I'm always just a day away from them when I ask for something new. That's rather exciting. Given my ineptitude and laziness and lack of motivation, that's actually almost faster than the Blockbuster 3 blocks from my street. So I spent much of the day watching Dead Like Me. When I had seen this advertised before, I was intrigued by the premise: Georgia is an 18 year-old-girl who is killed in a freak accident, and takes on a role as a Grim Reaper, someone who ushers souls from this mortal coil to their deserved afterlife. This show was, indeed, the primary reason I decided to give Netflix a try in the first place. What an a amazing program! I laughed out loud and cried in nearly every episode. I am offically declaring Dead Like Me my new Buffy. It has Mandy Patinkin in it, too, as well as Cynthia Stevenson, on whom I've always had a secret crush. And I have never enjoyed Jasmine Guy more than in her role as Roxy Harvey the meter maid. But should I buy it, or just continue to grab the discs from Netflix? Two bits sealed the deal on my heading out to purchase it. It's set in Seattle (though I think it's filmed in BC), and Georgia owns a devil duck. Here's a screen shot for you.

Brian Regan is the Funniest Man Standing
Mortipan and I are HUGE Brian Regan fans, and we bought tickets for his show two months ago. We think this may have been the first time he ever performed in Seattle, and judging from the response of the audience and the size of the menu (a packed Moore Theatre) I think he'll be back. We had really good seats, and he was, as always, hilarious. Let me offer my complaints first and then I'll sing his praises. I did get a big def up with the audience, during the encore, shouting out lines from their favorite bits so that he would do them. And then everyone saying the lines with him. In my opinion, it was supposed to be a comedic performance, not a comedic recital. I'm sure Brian was flattered, but I'd rather watch a guy do comedy then lead a big group sing-a-long. Its like watching an old favorite movie for the umpteenth time. He's not a musuem piece, he's a comedian. Ah well, this rant lacks viscosity, so I'll stop. Brian himself is a comic master. The jokes are excellent, and his performance of the faces and voices and gestures and postures. And he's so clean-- I think he might have said "ass" once. I hope he never gets a sitcom, never makes a movie. I hope he just keeps writing jokes, makes CDs and DVDs of his performances. He is the quintessential stand-up comic.

I Love You Mullitaters!
Damn the need for fake names! Oh well. Mullitaters is just the person who loves Arrested Development and has been suggesting I watch the show. I Netflixed it and it arrived. So after the Brian Regan show, Mortipan and I watched it. Oh. My. God. I have not laughed that much in a loooooong time. Seriously. There were times when I had to pause the show, I was laughing so hard I started a bad coughing fit. I'm sure it helped to be watching it with Morti, who has an infectious laugh and makes anything funny funnier. So I already love Mullitaters, sure, but not I feel it even more in my literally sore gut, sore from all the laughter. David Cross is amazing. Jason Bateman is awesome. The actors I've never heard of are fantastic. And is hilarious, and beautiful. I mean that in some kind of classic sculpted beauty sense. She has striking features, looks like she's been sculpted by some old Greek master. (Then again, nothing makes me like a woman more than when I'm laughing. Still.) And Jeffrey Tambor had better be inducted in some character-actor hall of fame, because the man is a genius. SO, again, Thank you from the bottom of my heart, Mullitaters.