My Stripper Name Is "Trixie"

My friend Holly is engaged, and it looks like it's going to "take"-- so this weekend another of our high school friends (Britta the Tick Girl) organized a nice little middle-class bacchanalia complete with bright pink penis-themed utensils, pink penis noisemakers, Annie Lennox theme music and charming little beefcake party plates. It was very Martha Stewart-ish.

Britta also had the foresight to bring fizzy champagne and a bunch of hilariously gigantic phallus cookies that we decorated ourselves (I made mine look like it was winking). These had to be baked at her grandmother's house, so her grandmother was dutifully invited into the kitchen for a viewing... "No that's okay, I've seen plenty" was the bemused response.

The Bride-To-Be wore a veil and an obnoxious corsage. The rest of us wore pink name tags that were supposed to have our porn star names (i.e., your first pet's name plus your childhood address). However, the tags were a bit too short for names like "Pippy Seabreeze", "Chewie Lemon" and "Pumpkin Oak Forest". So we trotted around with generic stripper names instead: Cuddles, Spanky, Chiffon, Bubbles, Ms. Beaverhausen (in teensy tiny letters) and Trixie (me).

Other than the fact that we drank bubble-gum flavored "sangria" and listened to Terrible music at a tacky bar called "Howl At The Moon", I was struck by how much the "bachelorette party" has in common with ancient fertility customs...

1. Wine was a symbol of the Greek god Bacchus and was generally held to be an aphrodisiac.

2. Barley was frequently used to represent the female genitalia.

3. Many cultures have used various phallic symbols to represent fertility. (Today in Japan, you can still find small votive offerings being left at certain stone pillars).

But we were really quite conservative compared to our ancestors. We didn't sacrifice small animals; we didn't shave her head; we didn't make her eat anything disgusting. We didn't even have a stripper.

***
Around 2 a.m. I finally caught a ride with a very nice cab driver, who is required by Florida law to be a friendly Haitian named Joseph. Joseph and I chatted for a bit about the weather and the fact that I cannot speak French, which made him quite melancholy. I tipped him handsomely.

Then I went home to sleep.

The End.

Museum of Bad Art!

Oh my... someone else beat me to it.

I just accidentally stumbled upon the Museum of Bad Art, in all its tasteless glory. Revel in its horrifying artistry...

More Bad Art

For anyone who finds kayaking tiresome, here is a follow-up to my previous posts on the Fountain of Bacchino and Le Curieux. This apparently untitled black velvet work by an unknown artist depicts Jesus Christ blessing a big rig. Truly tasteless, yet strangely cool...

... and for more of the truly tasteless, don't forget to take a look at the Jesus Dance!

Kayaking

Yesterday we decided to celebrate my father's birthday by eating yummy smoked fish and kayaking at Fort DeSoto park. We've given him a GPS locator for his canoe, and I added a rather scholarly book about moonshiners and shooting alligators.

Kayaking is a bit damp, but luckily I had the sort where you sit on top rather than inside the kayak with its sides coming up to your waist. However, both types have their limitations; a kayak where you sit on top has a higher center of gravity-- which means that it could tip over at any moment and you can get eaten by rabid alligators and water moccasins; a kayak where you sit inside has a slightly lower center of gravity-- which means that it could tip over at any moment, trapping you underwater until you drown; then you get eaten by rabid alligators and water moccasins.

We had a rather good time looking at red mangroves, black mangroves and white mangroves, but also saw mangroves, oyster beds, mangroves, fish and mangroves. A few herons and egrets were taking afternoon naps, so we would quietly paddle up to one and stare at it for a bit until it became very uncomfortable and flew off in a perturbed manner.

I drifted around for a while and had an engrossing conversation about toe fungus and water with my mother and brother; we've decided that the problem with water is just that it's so wet.

****

I eventually left a bit early to attend a bachelorette party. I will post on that later.

As Requested By The Frog Princess...

As I have been burning the candle at both ends* and frying my brain into a tender little crisp this week, I thought I would take a request from the Frog Princess and be a meme lemming:
1. Grab the nearest book.
2. Open the book to page 123.
3. Find the fifth sentence.
4. Post the text of the next 3 sentences on your blog along with these instructions.
5. Don't you dare dig for that "cool" or "intellectual" book in your closet! I know you were thinking about it! Just pick up whatever is closest.

(I'm terribly sorry. I really wanted to find something trashy like The History of Brothels, but I've mislaid it. This one is rather good though, and it was the second book I saw after The Cat in The Hat.)

From Invisible Cities by Italo Calvino:
"Irene is the city visible when you lean out from the edge of the plateau at the hour when the lights come on, and in the limpid air, the pink of the settlement can be discerned spread out in the distance below: where the windows are more concentrated, where it thins out in dimly lighted alleys, where it collects the shadows of gardens, where it raises towers with signal fires; and if the evening is misty, a hazy glow swells like a milky sponge at the foot of the gulleys. Travellers on the plateau, shepherds shifting their flocks, bird-catchers watching their nets, hermits gathering greens: all look down and speak of Irene. At times the wind brings a music of bass drums and trumpets, the bang of firecrackers in the light-display of a festival; at times the rattle of guns, the explosion of a powder magazine in the sky yellow with the fires of civil war."


* I'm sorry; it was either this or post a section of SQL code I am currently trying to fix...

I Embark On A Life Of Crime

This has been a rather distressing week, as I have accidentally embarked on a not-so-exciting life of Crime.

A horribly official officer with grimly chiseled features pulled me over for car tags that were two weeks too late last night; he glowered at me for almost an hour and told me that I could BE ARRESTED AT ANY MOMENT as this was my second offense for being dangerously airheaded.

Not only that, but they showed no record of the late registration fine I paid last year-- so I have to pay it again or I will be ARRESTED. Not only that, but I never showed up for a court date, about which I was never informed-- so I have to reschedule or I could be ARRESTED. Not only that, but their records show that I was in an accident, when I've never actually had one-- so I could also be ARRESTED for an imaginary offense in addition to the actual one.

I have to wait in two lines for eight hours on Monday to clean this up, and I have to go to court in a month or I will be ARRESTED.

I am very upset. I am too cute to go to prison! I am far too sweet and adorable to be someone's prison "bitch"!

At this point I have decided that I probably will be arrested, since that word has burned itself indelibly onto my retinas, like some horrible vision of Charles and Camilla frolicking at a nude beach.

*****

The authorities will stake out my apartment for a few days, nervously chain-smoking and watching me through their hi-tech Super Rambo TS300 Series 6 Ultra night vision goggles. They will have to take shifts, of course, because there are rapists lurking on the streets RIGHT NOW who are less dangerous than I. They will burst open the door with their rifles and their excitingly designed S.W.A.T. team gear. I will then be led away barefoot and wearing a dirty wifebeater shirt (hiding my face) as news crews hover and toothless neighboors jeer and pelt me with oranges.

After I am booked, strip-searched and de-loused I will be placed with other formerly upstanding citizens like Cleopatra, Carmen, Danielle, Rosa, Danielle and Dorothy. We will each get one lumpy infested mattress, but will have to share the single toilet that doesn't actually work. Entertainment will consist solely of aiming spitballs at cockroaches, chalking a makeshift calendar on the wall, and singing uplifting songs like "Nobody Knows...The Trouble I've Seen" while rattling our tin cups against the cold metal bars.

This is really going to suck, because this means I will have to get those nasty prison tattoos (I loathe needles!), and I will have to take up smoking; do you realize what that does to your complexion?! And I'm not coordinated enough to get all the gang signs straight either, which is rather a bother. And I will have to start saying "Motherfucker" every five minutes, or no one will respect me. It's all quite tiresome.

But that's what I get for running afoul of the Hillsborough County penal code....
(ha ha I said "penal")

If the worst does happen, my blogging will be hampered for a while. However, I would welcome whatever care packages anyone would care to send: encoded diagrams for building tunnels, chocolate chip cookies, files, trashy magazines, skeleton keys, money, maps to secret underground lairs, etc.

*****
Don't Forget to check out the Celebrity Mugshots!

*****

Happy President's Day!

In honor of our first President, George Washington, who was known for his dentures.... 

Important Presidential Facts!

1. George Washington had at least four sets of false teeth, which he soaked in port; after being elected President, he had a new pair created from hippopotamus tusk. He also had a fear of premature burial and owned six white horses whose teeth were brushed every morning. He also loved to tell dirty jokes and obscene stories (in the 1920s, J.P. Morgan burned several Washington letters because they were too "smutty").

2. Calvin Coolidge once fell asleep at his desk in the middle of the day. When he awoke, he asked "Is the country still here?". He was also known to have his head rubbed with vaseline while eating breakfast in bed.

3. Franklin Pierce was arrested during his term as President for running over an old lady with his horse, but the charges were later dropped

4. Franklin Roosevelt was so superstitious, that he wouldn't leave town on a Friday and never sat at a table with 13 people.

5. Zachary Taylor refused to violate the Sabbath by taking the oath of office, so under the Succession Act of 1792, Missouri Senator David Atchinson (President Pro Tempore of the Senate) became president of the United States for a day. He appointed his friends to Cabinet positions, had a few drinks, then went to bed.

6. Howard Taft had a pet Holstein named Pauline in a pasture next to the Executive Mansion.

7. Thomas Jefferson is often credited with inventing the coat hanger, the hideaway bed, the calendar clock and the dumbwaiter. However, he wrote his own epitaph without mentioning the fact that he served as President of the United States for two terms.

8. Martin Van Buren refused to mention his wife's name in his autobiography-- on the grounds that a gentleman would not "bandy a lady's name in public."

9. Chester A. Arthur ("Elegant Arthur") owned eighty pairs of trousers and changed clothes several times a day.

10. Ronald Reagan consulted astrologers before making important decisions, including when to invade Grenada and bomb Libya.


*** facts taken from The Mammoth Book of Oddballs and Eccentrics and The Best, Worst & Most Unusual

Is Your Senator Hot Or Not?

The Florida State Fair

I had been lamenting the lack of monkeys and industrial strength lemonade in my life, so my friend Debbie took pity and went with me to the Florida State Fair this weekend.

In addition to the usual "Win A Real Goldfish!" games, airbrushed funhouses, bumper cars and "Guess Your Age" carnies, the fair also had an alligator wrestling show (which we sadly missed), a sea lion show, dog obstacle courses and a terribly smelly petting zoo. We also stopped by the dog show, the bored monkey exhibit, and the various animal competitions-- which contained everything from baby rabbits and turkeys to chickens with punk rock hairdos. The exhibits were all decorated with 4H children's posters labeled with slogans like "Ten Uses For A Pig" and "We Enjoy Eating Rabbit Brains".

It was terribly exciting-- I got to hold a tiny baby chicken (which didn't seem very happy)-- and a baby pig tried to pee on my shoe! I also stared at bees and almost watched a cow give birth (they had these scheduled every couple of hours, but I chickened out after watching the water break-- yucko!)

They also had an exhibit where they let me pet a tarantula, which turned out to be wonderfully convenient; I used my "I Pet A Tarantula!" sticker to cover up the stains on my shirt after eating a chocolate covered key lime pie on-a-stick.

I also made sure to peruse the Oddities! sideshow which advertised "The World's Smallest Horse-- ALIVE! The Two-Headed Eight-Legged Lamb-- ALIVE! The Incredible Cyclops Calf-- ALIVE! The Incredible Shrunken Head! The Horrifying Human Pincushion-- ALIVE! The World's Largest Rat-- ALIVE! The Amazing Ossified Pig-- ALIVE!" Of course NONE of them were actually ALIVE, except the world's smallest horse, which wasn't all that small. In fact we saw two miniature horses that were much smaller, "getting it on", so to speak, near the midway...

Other fun sightings: a twangy "cracker" banjo band with a midget fiddler; an elderly organ grinder with a monkey in a funny suit; a reproduction pioneer village where they showed us how to make candles, lye soap and cane syrup; about ten or so llamas that looked like they were wearing little pants and vests, but really just had odd haircuts; and a vaguely horrified British couple wandering around looking shell-shocked and slightly ill.


*** General Fair Guidelines ***

1. All fairgoers must eat at least one item on-at-stick (pork butt on-a-stick, beef jerky on-a-stick, pie on-a-stick, etc.)

2. Everyone must eat at least two items they would never eat in real life (fried pig skin, fried oreos, fried snickers bars, fried twinkies, giant fried onions, etc.)

3. Total caloric intake per person must be set at no less than 4,000 calories.

4. At least two slices of pizza must be consumed before getting on any ride.

5. All rides must be terribly dirty, horribly dangerous-- and should be operated by persons missing an arm, a leg, an eye or several teeth. All ride operators should sport at least three visible tattoos and/or piercings.

6. The arts and crafts section must only contain completely useless or horribly tacky items ("country" nail art, painted saw blades, ostrich egg fish bowls, cure-all pills, fake windmills, decorative wooden cows, deer antler lamps, etc.)

7. No less than twenty percent of the crowd must be obese and riding a motorized cart at all times.

8. The parade of tractors and army tanks must contain at least twelve American flags and two elderly ladies with no discernable connection to tractors or tanks.

9. All "Fair Wear" must be sadly Unfashionable. Each person is required to wear a cowboy hat, a mullet, a rebel flag shirt, a fanny pack, a puffy paint T-shirt or blinding white sneakers.

10. All prizes must self-destruct within twenty-four hours.

Check out this amusing little childrens' book, courtesy of Mutilation Jubilation. I want it.

(the images near the end are very spooky)

I Am Nearly Crushed By A Large Hummer

Today I was nearly crushed into teensy little bits by a large red species of Hummer.
As much as I would have loved having yet another subatomic particle named in my honor, I was quite relieved to have escaped unscathed. Others were not so fortunate.

Slightly more fuel-efficient than tanks, but a bit less attractive than Naked Mole Rats, Hummers tend to congregate in my area of Tampa-- menacing the local constabulary and terrorizing the local population. At least I think the local population is terrorized; it's becoming rather tricky to differentiate between the paralyzing effects of Fear and Botox.

However, I was unprepared for today's episode...

I was innocently paused at a light next to the local Starbuck's, when a Hummer swerved rather carelessly into MY lane and attempted to squish me in a terribly unpleasant manner. Luckily, my car and I managed to climb a tree just in the nick of time. We perched precariously among the branches and watched in horror as other vehicle went insane and mowed down everything else on its way to a double decaf mocha latte and a copy of the Wall Street Journal.

Tires, small terriers, street signs, groceries and shopping carts flew everywhere, as if before some violent force of Nature. Walkers and baby carriages were strewn about like so many toys as scores of joggers and soccer moms fled screaming for their lives with destruction plowing straight for them. Almost nothing could be heard but the horrifying grating of metal and the tinkle of broken glass.

When the Hummer finally ended its violent rampage, all that broke the newly hushed stillness was the distant sound of a toddler crying. Piles of smoking rubble dotted the once-beautiful landscape, and the sense of devastation was enormous.

As a discarded paper fluttered by and distant sirens began to wail, the driver's side door creaked open.

Out stepped a hugely muscled man with a Penis so Enormous that it required a small wheelbarrow and two eunuch footmen for support. His arms trailed behind, gorilla-like, as The Penis strode about in a very manly way. It was so Large, that his face was completely obscured and his movements were extraordinarily hampered. Attempts to fit through the coffeeshop door failed miserably and repeatedly, although The Penis succeeded in knocking over a small bicycle, a cafe table and two large newspaper racks.

He continued to stumble blindly about until the arrival of law enforcement, who barely managed to subdue him with a tranquilizer dart, four tasers and a case of Budweiser.

As he was driven away in a rather large van, reporters swarmed the area-- foaming at the mouth to interview the shell-shocked survivors and photograph the chaotic destruction in time for the 6 o'clock news. The devastation was so complete that it will take weary locals a very long time to rebuild their lives. No one can imagine the scene of utter despair...

*************************************

Donations may be sent to the email address found at this charitable organization. Please make checks payable to Random_Speak, Inc.

Thank You for your Support.


*************************************
Naked Mole Rat Cam at the National Zoo!

Actual Searches People Have Used To Find My Blog(s)

chocolate slavery+pros
Tractor cakes
ear trumpet
tall woman and midget photos
industrial revolution tess of the d'urbervilles
painting by enema
abercrombie lawsuit + shoplifting
A Pickle For the Knowing Ones
women throwing pies
"folding a handkerchief"
love is the fart of every heart
gruesome pictures of drownings
duchess of bloomsbury st blog

I really don't know what to say.

Cinderella

Like yesterday's this will be an incredibly Lame post, as I am working 12+ hours for a few days.

No longer the glamorous Girl-About-Town, I am sadly Cinderella-ish as I work my dainty fingers to the bone; my once scintillating conversation has been degraded to heated discussions of disk space and clustered indexes; my once rosy cheeks have sadly faded, my lustrous and sparkling eyes are hollow, and my charming smile only peeks out at rare moments of brief levity...

It's Quite Sad.

To-morrow I shall bring us back to our regularly scheduled programming.

but for now, I bring you the Lame Underwater Gnome Threat story, the Pathetically Interactive Bubble Wrap link, and the latest in Poo News.

Don't hate me.

A Valentine, Nooky Music

Actually received a rather suspicious valentine today-- from my weird Ex-Boyfriend the Weasel Owner. Haven't seen him in almost two years, but I've heard through the grapevine that his biological clock is ticking.

I shouldn't have been so bitter in my last post; being single is Quite Nice.

1. I can play James Brown or Billie Holiday over and over again as much as I want.
2. I can eat ice cream and strawberries for dinner. Or breakfast. Or lunch.
3. If the phone rings, I always know it's for me.
4. I can leave the dishes until the morning.
5. I plan my own day. Or not.

I will Play Nice and post what I think is really the best **nooky music (although others may disagree)
1. "I Want A Little Sugar In My Bowl" by Nina Simone
2. "These Arms Of Mine" by Otis Redding
3. "Let's Get It On" by Marvin Gaye
4. "Try Me" by James Brown.
5. "The Very Thought Of You" by Billie Holiday

** Is it supposed to be "nooky" or "nookie"? Inquiring minds would like to know...

Happy Valentine's Day!

It's been a bit of a busy weekend; however, I will post about that later, as I am feeling rather Romantic today...


Five Famous Romantic Couples


1. Sid Vicious and Nancy Spungen
Immortalized in art and song, the story of Sid and Nancy still inspires. Nancy saw her first psychiatrist wnen she was 4, and at the age of 11 attacked her mother with a hammer because she wouldn't take her to a museum. Schizophrenic and a drug addict since the age of thirteen, she worked as a prostitute and fell in Love with Sid Vicious, the lead singer of the punk band "The Sex Pistols". Sid and "Nauseating Nancy" together took massive amounts of drugs, set hotel mattresses on fire and beat each other up. Nancy frequently sported cigarette burns, and Sid bashed her in the face with his guitar on more than one occasion. He stabbed her to death in a seedy hotel, briefly mourned her loss, then later overdosed on heroin.



2. Heloise and Abelard
Considered the greatest love story of the Middle Ages, the story of Heloise and Abelard remains one of the most famous of all time. In 1100, the scholar Peter Abelard broke the trust of a patron (Fulbert) and seduced his young neice Heloise, thereby committing statutory rape. She became pregnant, so he was forced to marry her. When he refused to publicly acknowledge their relationship and sent her to languish in a convent, her uncle Fulbert had him castrated. The heartbroken Heloise wrote numerous poignant letters to Abelard after he became a monk, but he later advised her to forget their relationship, as it was now Out Of The Question.



3. Wallis Simpson and King Edward VII
The Romantic love story of Wallis Simpson and Edward VII has brought emotional tears to the eyes of many. Simpson, an American who was married to a moody alcoholic, became Prince Edward's mistress ("It requires great tact to manage both men. I shall try to keep them both.") He had had several mistresses, but she remained his favorite due to a successfully managed sadomasochistic relationship. Although Simpson bullied him and apparently found his dependance claustrophobic, Edward Abdicated His Throne For Her after becoming king. They were both avid Nazi sympathizers-- and it was rumored that Simpson passed information to the Nazi foreign minister, Joachim von Ribbontrop, with whom she had an affair. 13 years after she married Edward, she reportedly had an additional affair with a playboy named Jimmy Donahue.



4. Bonnie Parker and Clyde Barrow
Over the years, bank robbers Bonnie and Clyde have been immortalized together in film and popular music. Bonnie was married to a small-time criminal at a very young age, but quickly fell for Clyde, a cold-blooded killer and experienced thief. Together they terrorized banks and store owners during the Great Depression-- shooting their way out of traps, killing policemen and posing cheerfully for photos. Although neither was perfect (Bonnie had a deformed leg and Clyde had a couple of toes chopped off), they remained inseparable. After they were killed by law enforcement pumping more than 150 rounds into their getaway car, they were displayed for public entertainment; the undertaker had to squirt embalming fluid at the gawking crowds to keep them at bay.



5. Oscar Wilde and Lord Alfred Douglas
The famous author and noted wit, Oscar Wilde, became enamored of the much younger Lord Alfred Douglas ("Bosie"), who was a spendthrift, a gambler, a school drop-out, and a notoriously tempermental Boy About Town with loose morals. Wilde supported him financially, always relenting when "Bosie" tearfully threatened self-destruction. Wilde eventually sacrificed everything for their relationship after Bosie's father succeeded in having Wilde prosecuted for Gross Indecency. Bosie remained manipulative to the end; Wilde was arrested, brought into bankruptcy court in chains, became a social pariah, had his career ruined, and was sent to prison for two years of hard labor.



Runners Up:
(in no particular order)
People I Forgot To Mention Initially, But Was Too Lazy To Write About:


King Henry VIII and Anne Boleyn
Princess Diana and Prince Charles
John F. Kennedy and Marilyn Monroe
Whitney Housten and Bobby Brown
Salome and John the Baptist
Cleopatra and Ptolemy XIII
Cleopatra and Ptolemy XIV
Cleopatra and Julius Caesar
Cleopatra and Marc Antony

A Nerd Herd, A Belly Dancer And A Naughty Merlot

A co-worker has irresponsibly left me in the lurch by leaving the company, so about thirty of us formed a Nerd Herd and wandered over to a flashy sports bar to wish him Good Riddance and Good Luck. Pasty tech geeks milled around aimlessly, staring suspiciously at the remnants of sunlight, discussing disk space and 64-bit testing, drinking beer and generally being disruptive.

A few of us left early to stuff our faces with baklava at a Tampa restaurant resembling Disney's version of the Middle East-- sterilised and cheerful with exciting music. We didn't have to endure any inconvenient Disney employees dressed as Goofy or Mickey, but we did see a wonderfully foxy belly dancer named **Margarita, who had a real belly! She shimmied and jiggled around the room, doing terribly interesting things with her navel, chiming these clicking little castanet things and throwing scarves at people. Chad, Cynthia and I tipped her by being charming and shoving bills at her waistband, but Stephany was stuck sitting there; she didn't have any cash, and you can't just go around swiping credit cards through belly dancers' armpits.

Of course, I was the only loser who hadn't been to Morocco or Lebanon or Saudi Arabia... so I had a terrible time pronouncing most of the menu, which seemed to consist mainly of things like hassafrass, ouvlashakkala, ganasha-baba, baklava, manesha-glawalala la, blah blah blah... On top of unpronounceable appetizers, the waitress served us adorable beers, yummy lamb bits, Middle Eastern french fries and nice squishy desserts. We also munched on a sweet Turkish coffee filled with black mystery syrup and coffee grounds that covered our teeth when we smiled.

Somehow I managed to fling my cous cous all over the place, which I tried to pretend was a festive Lebanese ritual celebrating the rites of spring...

A couple of us also ordered a very entertaining little Merlot, which was rich and heady with a good body and a rather naughty sense of humor. I am no sommelier, but I could tell it had a wonderfully effervescent personality with a harmonious combination of charm and wit. Althought it began the evening in a rather austere manner, it displayed a smooth balance with legs and a rather large nose that ran.

As the evening progressed however, the Merlot grew slightly less balanced, began slurring its speech and became slightly more forward. We barely managed to prevent it from attacking the waitress at one point, and it became even more of a nuisance when it began singing La Marseillaise and throwing stale croutons at the other diners. It stumbled around in a drunken stupor, insulted the chef, peed behind the curtains, then finally passed out beneath the table as we snuck out the door...

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** If you are evil and bored and have nothing better to do, try a random perusal of this model list site-- although you may want to poke your eyes out afterwards.... Mixed with the more attractive people you will also find the Horribly Inappropriate, the Odd, the Doubtful, the What Was Her Mother Thinking?, the Uncharming, the Inexplicable, the Bizarre and the Completely Painful

Look Deeply Into My Bowling Ball...

I want to go bowling, just so I can purchase a ball like this. How cool would that be to see this thing whizzing crazily down the lane? You can buy yours at http://www.bowlingballmall.com for ONLY $129.95! Get one while supplies last!

Artists Who Bowl: An Analysis

1. Persons A, B, C, D, E, F, G and L meet at random art event. Hugs and air kisses are given all around; everyone says things like Oh You Look So Adorable! and Where On Earth Did You Find Those Shoes? and I Need A Cigarette, Badly.

2. B suggests that everyone go bowling the following Wednesday night, and everyone agrees.

3. The day before, D calls B and cancels due to Unforeseen Circumstances.

4. B calls C and E to say that D cannot attend. C and E tell B that they feel ill but will still attend if F and L are going. B promises to call back.

5. B calls F and F calls L. F cannot go due to prior plans. L is still interested, but suggests another day to B if not enough people confirm.

6. L calls A; A returns call two weeks later from New York.

7. B and L call C and E, but only get voicemail

8. G calls B and leaves cryptic message

9. G calls B and cancels due to Illness.

10. G calls L and changes mind.

11. B calls L and cancels due to Illness.

12. C and E call B, L, and G to say they Are Ill But Will Bowl Anyway.

13. G calls L and changes mind again.

14. G and B call C, E and L to confirm cancellations

15. L and E decide to pick another day, but forget to mark it in their calendars.

16. Persons A, B, C, D, E, F, G and L meet at random art event. Hugs and air kisses are given all around; everyone says things like Oh You Look So Adorable! and Where On Earth Did You Find Those Shoes? and I Need A Cigarette, Badly.

The End

This work by the Russian painter Victor Mikhailovich Vasnetsov depicts the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse: War, Famine, Pestilence and Death. The little known Fifth Horse(wo)man represents L, who is not pictured.

Unfortunately, the artist ran out of room. 

My Day As An Unhandled Error

This has been a horrible day, as I have been strewing disaster and destruction wherever I go... I feel like the Fifth Horseman of the Apocalypse**, only I drive a seedy-looking station wagon instead of a fiery steed. Everyone I speak to is sucked into the magnetic vortex of ill-fortune and stress.

So I went to Bennigan's Restaurant with a very nice young man.

Bennigan's has a meal selection called "Choose Your Mood" combinations. I looked and I looked, but they didn't appear to have Saddened Beef, Chicken of Despair, Anguished Salad of Dashed Hopes or Despondent Salmon. I ordered the skewered shrimp instead; they seemed like they'd had a painful demise.

I'm going to bed now.


**War, Famine, Pestilence, Death and L

Love Your Robot! Change Your Name! Take Your Houseplants For A Walk!

I almost forgot that today is "Love Your Robot Day"! I had no idea, just wandering around aimlessly, eating terrible Chinese food and generally making a nuisance of myself. If I actually owned a robot, I am quite sure that I would harbor feelings of love for it, especially if it washed my dishes and did my taxes. I really should have been out celebrating, throwing confetti, wearing a festive lampshade and drinking something with tiny umbrellas; instead of which, I've been throwing dirty clothes in the hamper, wearing slippers and drinking apple juice-with-no-umbrellas.

I also missed "Disaster Day" on February 5th, which is really quite surprising.

February 13th is coming up, though. That's "Get a Different Name Day", so I've decided that everyone can start calling me Charlotte.

"National Sea Monkey Day" is on February 15th. I accidentally killed my last batch of Sea Monkeys, so I think I'll give this one a pass.

March 3rd? How could you forget? That's "What if Cats and Dogs Had Opposable Thumbs Day"!

Other Notable Holidays:
January 7 — "I'm Not Going to Take it Anymore Day"
January 22 — "Answer Your Cat's Question Day" (do we really want to know?)
March 15 — "Everything You Think Is Wrong Day" (I thought this was every day!)
March 30 — "I Am In Control Day" (I thought this was every day too)
April 4 — "Tell-a-Lie Day" (I will celebrate with gusto)
July 10 — "Don't Step on A Bee Day"
August 18 — "Bad Poetry Day"
September 5 — "Be Late For Something Day"
October 30 - "Haunted Refrigerator Day"
November 20 - "Name your PC Day" (Edgar P. Thompson)


*** And don't forget to mark your calendars for "Take Your Houseplants For a Walk Day" on July 27th!

Celebrate Love Your Robot Day! It's Not Too Late...

Super Bowl Sunday, Girls Night Out, Ogling

Yet again I managed to evade all Super Bowl parties and have a lovely day all to myself. No one forced me to eat cheetos and drink warm beer. No one tried to have me discuss scrummages or huddles, and I didn't have to hear about half yard lines, penalty boxes or zones-- yay! I just don't understand football -- the players are always molesting each other, they're constantly holding committee meetings, and they all seem to be in urgent need of a diet. Perhaps the game would interest me if they resembled rugby players rather than enormous buckets of talking lard...

*** Additional Suggestions To Improve The Game ***

1. Give the players weapons. Nothing says raw manliness more than a good swordfight or an exchange of gunfire. Anything larger than a rocket launcher would be verboten, of course.

2. Get rid of the lumpy, concealing uniforms and make them wear decorative loincloths. I guarantee an enormous increase in the female fan base, especially if anything "accidentally" falls off during a particularly rough play.

3. Encourage audience participation by including especially bloodthirsty fans on the field-- perhaps by some sort of lottery selection.

4. Instead of pop music concerts, fill the intermission with monster truck rallies or school bus figure 8 races.


****

I wouldn't have been able to attend any parties anyway.... I was still catching up on sleep after my Girls' Night Out with Bill and Debbie. They needed a night of ogling, so I was the emergency backup ogler. We ogled lovely Latino waiters when we went out for tapas and sangria; we eyeballed deliciously scruffy artists at the very cool Bask/Tes One art show at Covivant Gallery; we sighed amorously over attractive yuppies at fake Irish pubs.

Overall the evening was a mixed success. I ate delicious brie and berries, hung out with my amusing artsy fartsy friends, was followed by someone with a big face and psychotic notions of flirtation, accidentally insulted someone's teeth, huddled near outdoor space heaters, and was almost run over while jaywalking...

L: "Oh my god-- there's no stop sign.... run!"
(everyone runs, arms and legs flailing)
L: "Oh great, that car full of guys just watched us making total asses of ourselves."
Bill: "Who cares? None of them are going to want to have sex with us anyway"

Stayed up until o'dark thirty and drank coffee at IHOP next to a booth filled with hysterically funny gay men.

And THAT'S why this post is so incoherent.

A Very Merry Waitangi Day To You All

mmmmm..... had the most delicious meal ever last night: exciting champagne, foie gras with strawberries and sugared grapes, roast rabbit in a tingly garlic-red wine sauce with baby carrots and a highly amusing salad. My stomach is still in raptures of joy, and I may never eat again.

***

I also read ahead in my desk calendar (to see the next Get Fuzzy cartoon) and noticed that tomorrow is "Waitangi Day" in New Zealand! Waitangi, Waitangi, Waitangi... Waitangi! I Love that word, I can't stop saying it, and I now want to sprinkle it liberally throughout all my conversations...

Angelina Jolie: "L, you look simply marvelous today!"
L: "Waitangi very much. I bathed."

Fred Astaire : "L, you are so graceful and adorably coordinated-- can you dance the Waltz and the Watusi as well?"
L: "No. I have been spreading myself rather thin lately, being both a Charming Young Person About Town AND a Geek Who Is In Demand. I can only dance the Waitangi, I'm afraid."

Leonard Nimoy: "L, you seem rather pale and sickly today. Is everything quite all right?"
L: "I'm afraid not, Leonard. I've been to the doctor, and it appears to be a rather dreadful case of Waitangi. The prognosis is not good."


Of course, as we all know, Waitangi is NOT a handy catchphrase, a dance or a dreadful disease.

No. Waitangi Day is that magical time of year in New Zealand when the Waitangi Wallaby comes out of hiding to bring sackfuls of toys and treats to all the good little children who have remembered to leave out plates of muffins and glasses of milk. Along with his friends (the solitary and flightless Kiwi and the solitary and flightless Kakapo), the Waitangi Wallaby sings a little song and crashes through your windows to leave presents under the decorated Tutu bush. On Waitangi Day it is traditional to hunt for cheese bits and beer, dye your hair a festive color and light candles at bus stations.

Don't forget to celebrate on this Festive Occasion!

1954, Issue #10

I don't have a scanner, so the previous photo was just a random one I pulled from Ebay. I just found an online photo of my same cover, though-- here it is. I should try to copy some of the hilarious adverts too, though. They're a scream!

vintage Titter from the 1950s

Limericks, Vintage Pin-Ups, Assorted Miscellanea

Today I trotted on over to a musty little antiques store and rummaged around their piles of ceramic poodles, hat pins, stereoscopes, rhinestones, ugly vases, toy soldiers and baby carriages. I was actually looking for a humongously poofy 1950s skirt crinoline, but alas they did not have one. I am sadly without a poofy crinoline, tasty cheese, a private jet, a gigolo, champagne and shampoo. Will this saga never end?

More terrible news: I fell in love with a box of adorable vintage 1950s Vargas pin-up playing cards, and they were ALREADY SOLD. I consoled myself by purchasing two cute vintage pin-up magazines (Titter and Beauty Parade). They are hysterically funny and feature assorted lingerie-clad women acting coyly shocked at being found in deshabille. Bonus features: Bettie Page photos and Charles Atlas He-Man advertisements!

**************

Also purchased a rather fun telephone book-sized collection of limericks ("This is the largest collection of limericks ever published, erotic or otherwise. Of the 1700 printed here, none is otherwise.") Because, as most people know, a book of limericks is quite a useful thing to have around the house; you never know when it might come in handy. The book also includes educational footnotes and chapters based on topics like "Excrement", "Diseases", "Oral Irregularity", "Abuses of the Clergy" and "Assorted Eccentricities".

My favorites so far:
A farmer I know named O'Doole
Has a long and incredible tool.
He can use it to plow,
Or to diddle a cow,
Or just as a cue-stick at pool.

A girl attending Bryn Mawr
Committed a dreadful faux pas.
She loosened a stay
In her decollete
Exposing her je-ne-sais-quoi.

Dirty Limericks
Clean Limericks (if you really want to bother)
Limerick Discussion Page
Polish limericks
Physics limericks

**************

Tech Geek Quote Of The Day

DBA#1: "You can either spend half a day showing them how to do it and another three weeks constantly answering questions, or you can just take half an hour and write the code for them."

DBA#2: "Well we should teach them HOW to fish instead of just feeding them every day"

DBA#1: "You can teach them how to fish, but they still won't know how to write code."

I Encounter A Strange Culture And Study Its Customs...

As I needed to escape from a distressing amount of email, I decided to develop an overwhelming craving for Good Ol' Fashioned Fried Down-Home Fried Southern Fried Cookin', courtesy of the the local Cracker Barrel and its legion of blue-haired you-alling tribespeople.

I was received with their traditional greeting: "HiCanIHelpYouHoney?", which of course needed no translation due to my expert knowledge of Advanced Southernese. By using various gestures and phrases I indicated that I wished to partake of the local cuisine and perhaps examine the various totem objects displayed within the building's antechamber. As I had made all the necessary signals of respect and was properly clothed according to local custom, the curiously garbed "waitstaff" was friendly and showed no sign of attack.

Emboldened by this knowledge, I freely mingled with the natives, who were garbed in cloths and jewelry of varying designs indicating social rank, marital status, age, religious affiliation and gender. I was able to take copious notes on their behaviour as well as record my thoughts on the variety of items these "Southerners" were carrying; each native presented a variety of these objects at the back of the wood shelved room, then exchanged small pieces of inscribed paper with the "waitstaff". Other groups of natives passed beyond to a large enclosure where additional "waitstaff" served the local food, a creative mixture of meat, animal fat, meat, bread, meat, vegetables and animal fat.

After observing their activities for quite some time, I attempted to document and classify the various objects I found. Examples:

1. "garden gnome" -- apparently a sculptural representation of a guardian spirit, meant to be placed as a warning outside the dwelling

2. "commemorative state thimble" -- a decorative object that serves to represent both clan affiliation and the worship of the "collectible"

3. "stained glass chicken lamp" -- a dual purpose artifact, this is both an illuminating device as well as a revered image representing animal fertility and good harvest

4. "NASCAR coffee table book" -- this appears to have some sort of religious significance, but will require further study.


(Translations of the various pictographs and sculptural iconography are currently underway; they will be published in my upcoming treatise: Created Difference: An Analysis in Relation to the Elaborated Environment of Pictorial Presentations and Their Interrelationships in Mason-Dixon Tribal Culture and its Related Social Groupings: A Study.)

I was then sent on my way, laden with fried food and good wishes-- and armed with a newfound respect for their strange culture. I am certain that they too provide an important contribution to our global community. Perhaps one day we shall know more about this "Cracker Barrel".

Artifact # 1

Artifact # 1: a "John Deere tractor lamp", which is used within the "home" to designate the social status of the male member of the household. Such decorative objects are commonly utilized in the deep Southern regions, but are, in fact, imported through various trade routes from foreign tribes. Anthropologists have found that such caste markers are frequently molded in "plastic", but such objects have also occasionally been discovered in metal or wood.

Artifact # 2

Artifact # 2: A "Happy Insect Votive Holder", apparently utilized in various religious ceremonies. The origins of the "votive holder" are unknown.

Picture Of The Week!

My favorite picture of the week, courtesy of Scrapatorium.