Two days ago I loaded up an SUV with my entire tangible life- clothes, bread machine, miscellaneous stuffed animals (and yes, I am secure enough in my mascu-femininity that I can sleep with a stuffed turtle named Henry should the mood strike me- he’s warm and comes accessorized with a bathrobe and boxers!).
My arrival in DC marks the beginning of another chapter in this tireless novel- I’m on the precipice of a ginormous cavern filled with millions of question marks, swirling about like an ensemble of bubbles caught in a breeze. It’s dizzying; each answer leads to more questions, like a clue-ridden DaVinci Code movie that never ends. It is life unfolding to its fullest- a shining new day, illuminated by an infinite number of colors and pigments that are forever growing and changing.
Basically, I’m scared to death …
As Philadelphia faded into the distance of my rearview mirror, I was still dabbing at puffy eyes after saying goodbye to my roommate, Tanya. Well … she was much more than a roommate. A colleague, a mentor, a confidant, an advisor, a role-model, and a friend. It’s her I’ll miss the most-- our chats in the kitchen over wine glasses that refused to stay empty, our sprinting across the school parking lot to avoid missing the sign-in sheet for staff members, our engaging discussions on Harry Potter and the sexuality of Dumbledore ... It’s all gone.
As I sat in the food court at the Pentagon City mall, I stared at the post-holiday crowds rushing about to return gifts and take advantage of the latest sales. There could have been at least 500 people there- probably a lot more. And, surprisingly and disturbingly, I felt so completely alone. Returning “home” had never felt so strange.
And so, as any gay man would do, I consoled myself with a lavish shopping spree at Bed Bath & Beyond. Homo-therapy, ahhh …
I’m sitting here amongst a micro-city of boxes and storage bins, wishing I could Mary Poppins everything into its proper niche. I wish I could fast-forward through the next few days- hell, through all of the ambiguity that awaits me in the upcoming weeks. But missing the journey devalues the destination, as evasive as this destination seems to be. I’ll close my eyes, leap into the cavern, and hope the question marks are sensible enough to break my fall.
Sleep tight, Henry.
Sunday, December 30, 2007
Wednesday, December 26, 2007
A Japanese Christmas
They say that to really appreciate your own culture and customs, you must first step out of your box (ladies please don't be concerned - I mean your "comfort zone") and see the world from a different perspective -- like standing on a desk in Dead Poets Society ... and being able to stare down at crotches in the classroom from an aerial view instead of sideways glances in the shower. AHEM - woah, derailed there for a second.
Another way to shake up your paradigm (ladies, keep calm) is to have someone else come into your box and take a look around (OBGYNs are cultural pros!). In the metaphorical sense, having my Japanese friend in Lakeland, Florida, for 2 days during the Christmas holidays was a unique opportunity to take a good, hard look at my own box.
Here are Makoto's observations of an America VERY different from the Washington, DC he has become accustomed to:
-We put trees in houses and decorate them. It's like a bonsai that has decided to take over the house.
-There is an over-abundance of religious institutes, particularly those with schools conjoined.
-There is a shocking over-abundance of old people clogging traffic as they purposefully try to lower the nation's speed limit to approximately 25 mph.
-We spend a surprisingly large amount of money on gifts and exchange them, and then hug! Why do we hug each other?!? What's the point???
-Lights on houses are simply spellbinding. It's like a small scale Tokyo.
-Every meal is to be photographed from multiple angles.
-Gay bars must be photographed inside and out (lots of flashing *wink*)
I think my favorite part of the evening was when Makoto was completely surrounded by Americans hanging on his every word (sign), asking all kinds of questions about his home and heritage. And when asked by a little child "Do you like girls???", he turned the darkest red I've ever seen.
Gay, deaf, and Japanese? He's a one-stop shop, filling the diversity quota for any American gathering.
And in case you're wondering- no, he did not have any business to do in any literal boxes.
Another way to shake up your paradigm (ladies, keep calm) is to have someone else come into your box and take a look around (OBGYNs are cultural pros!). In the metaphorical sense, having my Japanese friend in Lakeland, Florida, for 2 days during the Christmas holidays was a unique opportunity to take a good, hard look at my own box.
Here are Makoto's observations of an America VERY different from the Washington, DC he has become accustomed to:
-We put trees in houses and decorate them. It's like a bonsai that has decided to take over the house.
-There is an over-abundance of religious institutes, particularly those with schools conjoined.
-There is a shocking over-abundance of old people clogging traffic as they purposefully try to lower the nation's speed limit to approximately 25 mph.
-We spend a surprisingly large amount of money on gifts and exchange them, and then hug! Why do we hug each other?!? What's the point???
-Lights on houses are simply spellbinding. It's like a small scale Tokyo.
-Every meal is to be photographed from multiple angles.
-Gay bars must be photographed inside and out (lots of flashing *wink*)
I think my favorite part of the evening was when Makoto was completely surrounded by Americans hanging on his every word (sign), asking all kinds of questions about his home and heritage. And when asked by a little child "Do you like girls???", he turned the darkest red I've ever seen.
Gay, deaf, and Japanese? He's a one-stop shop, filling the diversity quota for any American gathering.
And in case you're wondering- no, he did not have any business to do in any literal boxes.
Monday, December 24, 2007
Do you reuse your shopping bags?
Every Christmas I have the ultimate pleasure of perusing The Lakeland Ledger, the ultimate comprehensive guide to national news and the local to-do-s of Polk County.
Everyday The Ledger poses a question to the general public in their special segment called "Polk Pulse" (please note that The Pulse is the most frequented gay bar in Lakeland -- coincidence?). Yesterday's question was: "Do you reuse your shopping bags?"
I pray, pray, PRAY on bended knee that this person's response was really a satirical spoof, cleverly poking fun at conservatives. If this is a real person, may god have mercy on our souls.
I quote: "No, I don't reuse my shopping bags. I love it the way it upsets liberal idiots that think that 'Oh, you're going to save the trees, you got to reuse your plastic bags because our resources aren't infinite.' Actually, they are. I don't reuse my bags. I think anybody that says you should ought to be shot."
I find myself, probably for the first time in my entire life, completely speechless.
I'm imagining a world where everyone wanders around assuming that natural resources are automatically replaced once tapped, and that people who care about the earth we live on should no longer have the privilege of existence.
Peace on earth, but screw the earth itself. Huh???
Everyday The Ledger poses a question to the general public in their special segment called "Polk Pulse" (please note that The Pulse is the most frequented gay bar in Lakeland -- coincidence?). Yesterday's question was: "Do you reuse your shopping bags?"
I pray, pray, PRAY on bended knee that this person's response was really a satirical spoof, cleverly poking fun at conservatives. If this is a real person, may god have mercy on our souls.
I quote: "No, I don't reuse my shopping bags. I love it the way it upsets liberal idiots that think that 'Oh, you're going to save the trees, you got to reuse your plastic bags because our resources aren't infinite.' Actually, they are. I don't reuse my bags. I think anybody that says you should ought to be shot."
I find myself, probably for the first time in my entire life, completely speechless.
I'm imagining a world where everyone wanders around assuming that natural resources are automatically replaced once tapped, and that people who care about the earth we live on should no longer have the privilege of existence.
Peace on earth, but screw the earth itself. Huh???
Sunday, December 23, 2007
The Golden Compass Points Straight ... TO HELL !!!
The Vatican has decided to use its influence and power to dictate where we should (or shouldn't, rather) spend our money this holiday season. In fact, the Christian community at large has called for a boycott of The Golden Compass.
Pastors and preachers alike have cautioned the general public not to support a film with obvious non-Christian themes. This tale of witches, talking creatures, and wrestling with the powers of evil marks a strikingly eerie comparison to the release of Harry Potter (hugely popular in England, and branded as evil in America). Is there something Britain knows that we don't?
The Vatican has called The Golden Compass "the most anti-Christian film possible" - obviously the Pope hasn't seen the South Park movie (yikes!). "The film portrays the church as an orthodox dictatorship, which conducts cruel experiments on children and tries to suppress free will".
Hmm ... "free will". Like the free will of choosing what films you will and will not see??? AH, the irony!!!
The anti-religious elements of The Golden Compass are obvious: there is a large, organized entity that controls what information is passed on to the public (in the movie this is called "dust", i.e. the truth), and calls whatever is against the messages of this entity "heresy".
But the ironic twist is that the reaction of the Christian community is precisely what the movie is about-- restricting the public's ability to make decisions for itself, dictating what information should and should not be passed around, and avoiding any kind of discussion that would actually challenge the views of the Church.
Fear of challenge? Seems this house might actually have been built on the sand, in the end.
And please don't bring back the Inquisition, because that was just plain rude.
Pastors and preachers alike have cautioned the general public not to support a film with obvious non-Christian themes. This tale of witches, talking creatures, and wrestling with the powers of evil marks a strikingly eerie comparison to the release of Harry Potter (hugely popular in England, and branded as evil in America). Is there something Britain knows that we don't?
The Vatican has called The Golden Compass "the most anti-Christian film possible" - obviously the Pope hasn't seen the South Park movie (yikes!). "The film portrays the church as an orthodox dictatorship, which conducts cruel experiments on children and tries to suppress free will".
Hmm ... "free will". Like the free will of choosing what films you will and will not see??? AH, the irony!!!
The anti-religious elements of The Golden Compass are obvious: there is a large, organized entity that controls what information is passed on to the public (in the movie this is called "dust", i.e. the truth), and calls whatever is against the messages of this entity "heresy".
But the ironic twist is that the reaction of the Christian community is precisely what the movie is about-- restricting the public's ability to make decisions for itself, dictating what information should and should not be passed around, and avoiding any kind of discussion that would actually challenge the views of the Church.
Fear of challenge? Seems this house might actually have been built on the sand, in the end.
And please don't bring back the Inquisition, because that was just plain rude.
Sunday, December 9, 2007
Between DC and Philadelphia
This past week I had the unusual pleasure and honor to make a delightful sojourn down to the District for reasons yet to be disclosed (although I'll give you a clue- prospects for a "boj" spelled backwards! See how clever you are!!!). And due to the unreliably freakish time-tables of Septa, and the apprehension I have of ever riding the Chinatown bus again (last time I endured the Chinese-stampede, a common ritual when you have a "reservation" to travel economy-style), I decided to rent with Enterprise.
Quite like the professionalism displayed by the Chinatown bus people (I think the company was called New Century Travel, which is somewhat misleading and ironic considering the stampede looked like some Medieval-aged mob trying to storm a castle because our food rations had been cut), Enterprise also has a loose interpretation of the word "reservation"-- and when I say loose I mean like Monica Lewinsky on poppers. In essence, "reservation" means nothing to Enterprise.
So rather than a compact car as requested, for gas purposes, I was given the option to take a percentage off my bill and drive-------- a Dodge Ram (environmentalists gasp in horror). With regard to Mother Earth, I feel as good driving a Dodge Ram as I would harpooning the last whale of its own species ... however it was snowing and I had no other option to get my butt to DC.
You can picture the scene clearly, can't you? Barreling down the road in a truck that eats gasoline like a Weight-Watchers member at a buffet on their cheat day, blasting the tunes of Hairspray, Wicked, and Enchanted, and singing exuberantly like an insane-asylum escapee while children and adults alike stare up at me in the cab with uninhibited horror and surprise. It was delightful.
There are many things to help you pass the time on your journey up and down the interstate. There is the section of I-95 that has large yellow signs indicating a "weave area", which instantaneously puts me on alert to see if I can find Beyonce patting anywhere in the immediate vicinity. There is the large rest area with people scrambling to ingest as much fat as possible before they sit completely sedentary for the next 4 hours of their lives. There are the New Jersey drivers who had to take an oath to "Do-no-harm-haha-screw-that" before obtaining a license from the DMV (seriously those people are the WORST).
The trip was like taking off a band aid- quick, stinging for just a moment, and then discarded into the trashcan of my memory as I try to prepare for my last 2 weeks here in Philadelphia. As I was driving back through the maze of cars and SUVs, I couldn't help but feel I suddenly didn't belong in either place-- and I wasn't sure if the road I was taking or the direction I was going was the way to my future or to my past.
I'd almost rather stay in between-- singing Dreamgirls, imagining the impossible, and remaining contently unaware that the world can actually see me when I'm lost in my own world, in my big Dodge cab in a large red bullet that is sailing down the highway of life.
Quite like the professionalism displayed by the Chinatown bus people (I think the company was called New Century Travel, which is somewhat misleading and ironic considering the stampede looked like some Medieval-aged mob trying to storm a castle because our food rations had been cut), Enterprise also has a loose interpretation of the word "reservation"-- and when I say loose I mean like Monica Lewinsky on poppers. In essence, "reservation" means nothing to Enterprise.
So rather than a compact car as requested, for gas purposes, I was given the option to take a percentage off my bill and drive-------- a Dodge Ram (environmentalists gasp in horror). With regard to Mother Earth, I feel as good driving a Dodge Ram as I would harpooning the last whale of its own species ... however it was snowing and I had no other option to get my butt to DC.
You can picture the scene clearly, can't you? Barreling down the road in a truck that eats gasoline like a Weight-Watchers member at a buffet on their cheat day, blasting the tunes of Hairspray, Wicked, and Enchanted, and singing exuberantly like an insane-asylum escapee while children and adults alike stare up at me in the cab with uninhibited horror and surprise. It was delightful.
There are many things to help you pass the time on your journey up and down the interstate. There is the section of I-95 that has large yellow signs indicating a "weave area", which instantaneously puts me on alert to see if I can find Beyonce patting anywhere in the immediate vicinity. There is the large rest area with people scrambling to ingest as much fat as possible before they sit completely sedentary for the next 4 hours of their lives. There are the New Jersey drivers who had to take an oath to "Do-no-harm-haha-screw-that" before obtaining a license from the DMV (seriously those people are the WORST).
The trip was like taking off a band aid- quick, stinging for just a moment, and then discarded into the trashcan of my memory as I try to prepare for my last 2 weeks here in Philadelphia. As I was driving back through the maze of cars and SUVs, I couldn't help but feel I suddenly didn't belong in either place-- and I wasn't sure if the road I was taking or the direction I was going was the way to my future or to my past.
I'd almost rather stay in between-- singing Dreamgirls, imagining the impossible, and remaining contently unaware that the world can actually see me when I'm lost in my own world, in my big Dodge cab in a large red bullet that is sailing down the highway of life.
Sunday, November 4, 2007
Don't touch me there!!! ... Touch me here!
A few months ago I attended a birthday celebration extravaganza at a rollerskating rink where most of the people were black (aside from me, there was only one other white guy- he was very old, skated alone, and may have been entirely insane).
After taking to the rink and forgetting that my ankles are actually made of jelly, I took a breather on the side to enviously watch little 9-year-old shits who acted like they had skated out of their mothers' wombs (I did the Slip 'n Slide method, old school).
Now ... I am quite used to being around straight people and seeing couples engage in slightly disturbing behaviors such as hugging, hand holding, and kissing (the older I get the more puzzled I become at how straight people are attracted to another human being whose anatomy is so entirely different ... how are you supposed to know what to do with that thing?!? Very odd, I must say).
What is not often observed, particularly outside of Dupont Circle and Minnesotan airports, is the PDA of gay couples. There are few places where you can get away with it- New York, San Francisco, DC - and only in certain sections of town. Wait ... I take all that back. In the world of sports you can hug, embrace, ass slap-- lord, anything short of actual penetration -- and that's acceptable. Anyway, non-athletic displays of affection are rarely tolerated.
So imagine my surprise when I see two guys skating around the rink holding hands! (obviously they forgot that we were in Virginia) My jaw dropped, and I violently shook my head back-and-forth in a very cartoon-like manner ... oh my heck, there are 2 guys holding hands and they have not yet been lynched by the breeder mob!
But wait a minute ... there goes another pair of guys holding hands! Oh my sweet lord in heaven, there's another! What is going on here? Why are all the gay boys congregating at this rink? Did Sarah Jessica Parker promise to swing by or something?
Apparently in black rollerskating culture it is perfectly acceptable for grown men to hold hands to aid them in performing skating "tricks" across the rink. I saw a number of male and female pairs spinning around the rink uninhibited by their casual retaliation against society's rigid roles and definitions of appropriate same-sex behaviors. Suddenly the rink became very peaceful, and this sense of community and friendship gently embraced the rink like a child squeezing a stuffed teddy bear.
I must say, I have never seen anything like that. And I think it's absolutely brilliant.
After taking to the rink and forgetting that my ankles are actually made of jelly, I took a breather on the side to enviously watch little 9-year-old shits who acted like they had skated out of their mothers' wombs (I did the Slip 'n Slide method, old school).
Now ... I am quite used to being around straight people and seeing couples engage in slightly disturbing behaviors such as hugging, hand holding, and kissing (the older I get the more puzzled I become at how straight people are attracted to another human being whose anatomy is so entirely different ... how are you supposed to know what to do with that thing?!? Very odd, I must say).
What is not often observed, particularly outside of Dupont Circle and Minnesotan airports, is the PDA of gay couples. There are few places where you can get away with it- New York, San Francisco, DC - and only in certain sections of town. Wait ... I take all that back. In the world of sports you can hug, embrace, ass slap-- lord, anything short of actual penetration -- and that's acceptable. Anyway, non-athletic displays of affection are rarely tolerated.
So imagine my surprise when I see two guys skating around the rink holding hands! (obviously they forgot that we were in Virginia) My jaw dropped, and I violently shook my head back-and-forth in a very cartoon-like manner ... oh my heck, there are 2 guys holding hands and they have not yet been lynched by the breeder mob!
But wait a minute ... there goes another pair of guys holding hands! Oh my sweet lord in heaven, there's another! What is going on here? Why are all the gay boys congregating at this rink? Did Sarah Jessica Parker promise to swing by or something?
Apparently in black rollerskating culture it is perfectly acceptable for grown men to hold hands to aid them in performing skating "tricks" across the rink. I saw a number of male and female pairs spinning around the rink uninhibited by their casual retaliation against society's rigid roles and definitions of appropriate same-sex behaviors. Suddenly the rink became very peaceful, and this sense of community and friendship gently embraced the rink like a child squeezing a stuffed teddy bear.
I must say, I have never seen anything like that. And I think it's absolutely brilliant.
Monday, October 1, 2007
Another week of weird
Every morning I pour myself a cup of crazy; it's the only real way to start your day. At least if you feel slightly psychotic when you leave the house, the following random happenings and snippets of American culture don't seem as strikingly freakish or appalling:
-Grocery store ad: "Turkey butt -- 2.39 a pound". Now, since I am quite up-to-date on my slang, I am privy to the knowledge that in the world of colloquialisms "turkey butt" also means a wedgie, a.k.a. a camel toe from behind (but hopefully less moist ... wait, is a turkey ass moist?). According to this grocery store, wedgies cost approximately $2.39 per pound. But seriously, if your wedgie is large enough to be measured by the pound, then your ass is doing the gobbling- not the turkey.
In actuality turkey butt in the culinary sense refers to the fatty part of the bird that sticks out from its ass, and is also called the Pope's Nose, the Parson's Nose, or the Sultan's Nose (brown nosers, if you ask me).
-"I accept boobs in the face..."- random quote from a party: yeah, I don't remember why but for some reason after a few swigs of vodka the love pillows in the act of suffocation was deliriously hilarious. There was no mention of splinters from the twig and berries, but boobs are just funner to tease.
-Bear Bottoms Diaper Changing Station: to those not familiar with the gay community, be fortunate that this does not immediately bring to mind the damp and musty bottom (wink) of some geriatric fat queen that either cannot control his bowel movements or is into a fetish that I would rather not comment on. Regardless, posting such an obscene display (that comes complete with a table and straps) in the "family bathroom" is insulting as it only targets one narrow sub-culture of the cruising bathroom world (however, the tables are kept quite far off the ground for all of those really long-legged Idahoans). Haha ... I da ho? No, you da ho, Senator ... you da ho.
-A trash can in the Wal-Mart bathroom that had a sign taped to its front which read: "Out of order". Although this same sign is often seen in my imagination floating ominously around the heads of many Wal-Mart patrons, I found it hard to believe that a container designed to carry objects and with no electrical or mechanical components could actually be "out of order". Are they going to fix the trash can? How long will it take to order the parts? And who the hell purposefully puts garbage IN the receptacle of a Wal-Mart bathroom anyway?
-A religious sign outside of a church that said "God has not forgot". Indeed, that may be true, but he has clearly forgotten his English grammar and correct use of the past participle. Perhaps Moses would have gotten further with Egypt if he had simply said "Let my people went!"
-A dump truck that had the following self-advert on its side: "Our landfills provide 17,000 acres of wildlife habitat". It's an oxymoron - wildlife landfill. I'm sure the deer don't appreciate prancing over broken toilets and garbage bags spewing open with bear bottom diapers. Why don't they do the animals a favor during the winter and just burn an entire forest to keep them warm?
-The "Friends Free Library" in Germantown. It made me feel very sad to think that every single person inside that library did not have any friends.
-Grocery store ad: "Turkey butt -- 2.39 a pound". Now, since I am quite up-to-date on my slang, I am privy to the knowledge that in the world of colloquialisms "turkey butt" also means a wedgie, a.k.a. a camel toe from behind (but hopefully less moist ... wait, is a turkey ass moist?). According to this grocery store, wedgies cost approximately $2.39 per pound. But seriously, if your wedgie is large enough to be measured by the pound, then your ass is doing the gobbling- not the turkey.
In actuality turkey butt in the culinary sense refers to the fatty part of the bird that sticks out from its ass, and is also called the Pope's Nose, the Parson's Nose, or the Sultan's Nose (brown nosers, if you ask me).
-"I accept boobs in the face..."- random quote from a party: yeah, I don't remember why but for some reason after a few swigs of vodka the love pillows in the act of suffocation was deliriously hilarious. There was no mention of splinters from the twig and berries, but boobs are just funner to tease.
-Bear Bottoms Diaper Changing Station: to those not familiar with the gay community, be fortunate that this does not immediately bring to mind the damp and musty bottom (wink) of some geriatric fat queen that either cannot control his bowel movements or is into a fetish that I would rather not comment on. Regardless, posting such an obscene display (that comes complete with a table and straps) in the "family bathroom" is insulting as it only targets one narrow sub-culture of the cruising bathroom world (however, the tables are kept quite far off the ground for all of those really long-legged Idahoans). Haha ... I da ho? No, you da ho, Senator ... you da ho.
-A trash can in the Wal-Mart bathroom that had a sign taped to its front which read: "Out of order". Although this same sign is often seen in my imagination floating ominously around the heads of many Wal-Mart patrons, I found it hard to believe that a container designed to carry objects and with no electrical or mechanical components could actually be "out of order". Are they going to fix the trash can? How long will it take to order the parts? And who the hell purposefully puts garbage IN the receptacle of a Wal-Mart bathroom anyway?
-A religious sign outside of a church that said "God has not forgot". Indeed, that may be true, but he has clearly forgotten his English grammar and correct use of the past participle. Perhaps Moses would have gotten further with Egypt if he had simply said "Let my people went!"
-A dump truck that had the following self-advert on its side: "Our landfills provide 17,000 acres of wildlife habitat". It's an oxymoron - wildlife landfill. I'm sure the deer don't appreciate prancing over broken toilets and garbage bags spewing open with bear bottom diapers. Why don't they do the animals a favor during the winter and just burn an entire forest to keep them warm?
-The "Friends Free Library" in Germantown. It made me feel very sad to think that every single person inside that library did not have any friends.
Wednesday, September 26, 2007
Freakishly interesting websites
http://www.urbandictionary.com/
Sup, yo? What's good? What it is? I'm straight (whaaaaaaaat?), dude. Peep this while I freak this, yadadamean?
http://locker-room.com/fl/vanilla/?nats=MTAwMDU1ODo1OjE,1,0,0,0
WARNING !!! Do not open unless you are ready for a laugh, but for god's sake keep the children (or your partner) away from the screen. 3 simple steps: choose orifice, choose sensation, choose color (it's like shopping for any regular purchase, only this time you have the chance to give something back)
http://www.nationalpeanutboard.org/
Just in case you aren't sick of nuts from the previous website, here's an opportunity to indulge yourself in yet another salty substance. You can even click on the cartoon peanut "Buddy MeNutty" (why does that sound like something a Catholic priest would say?)
http://www.clubdeibrutti.com/index.html
The World Association of Ugly Persons. Come again? (I can't after those last two sites!) Sigh, leave it up to the Italians to create a club that goes against everything Italians treasure: beauty, beauty, and scantily-clad women in sparkly outfits. This organization fights the tidal wave of ugliness-discrimination (hey talk to Darwin about that one), and despite the bizarre name it actually sounds like a decent group that's fighting for a good cause! Website's in Italian, however :-( But check out their gift shop for boxers ("bello sotto", loosely translated as "handsome down under", and T-shirts designed to seduce).
http://postsecret.blogspot.com/
Shocking, stupefying, and downright unbelievable! (what is, Michael Jackson producing offspring?) Check out some dirty laundry being anonymously aired (not MJ's), and some truly heartbreaking confessions.
http://www.galenfrysinger.com/quaker_steak.htm
This restaurant is named "Quaker Steak and Lube". Um ... um ... *sigh*. Where to begin? Well, at least there is a drive-thru for those who like to get in and get out. And get in and get out. And get in and get out.
http://www.yodcards.com/
Custom printed playing cards, initially founded by a teenager entrepreneur. Slogan? "With us, you're on deck". Sounds like an ace in the hole (ooh, spades are rather sharp).
http://www.daretowearwhite.com/
Dare to wear white? What, before or after Labor Day? Ooooh, this website is for the ladies, or those having difficulty controlling their bowels. Hoping to take the tampon out of taboo ... wait, I got that messed up, sorry - take the taboo out of menstruation, this website hopes to unite women by sharing stories of how they bleed for 3 days but still don't die (stolen from South Park, but I had to say it).
http://www.threadless.com/
Original T-shirt designs, or submit your own! You can even have it imprinted on white, should you be so daring!
http://www.cleanbutt.com/
Quite different from http://www.wipeyourassproperly.com/, this website gives us a unique look into the world of the bidet. Check out the links under "Resources", including: streaming video (um, if I wanted to see that kind of video I'd go to Xtube, thank you very much), and Quality and Safety Assurances (we've all seen what fire hoses can do to solid structures, and I for one am very delicate back there...). Slogan? "A Happy Butt is a Clean Butt". Hmm... can anyone think of another word for "happy"? Ergo, the slogan (hopefully) remains true.
Sup, yo? What's good? What it is? I'm straight (whaaaaaaaat?), dude. Peep this while I freak this, yadadamean?
http://locker-room.com/fl/vanilla/?nats=MTAwMDU1ODo1OjE,1,0,0,0
WARNING !!! Do not open unless you are ready for a laugh, but for god's sake keep the children (or your partner) away from the screen. 3 simple steps: choose orifice, choose sensation, choose color (it's like shopping for any regular purchase, only this time you have the chance to give something back)
http://www.nationalpeanutboard.org/
Just in case you aren't sick of nuts from the previous website, here's an opportunity to indulge yourself in yet another salty substance. You can even click on the cartoon peanut "Buddy MeNutty" (why does that sound like something a Catholic priest would say?)
http://www.clubdeibrutti.com/index.html
The World Association of Ugly Persons. Come again? (I can't after those last two sites!) Sigh, leave it up to the Italians to create a club that goes against everything Italians treasure: beauty, beauty, and scantily-clad women in sparkly outfits. This organization fights the tidal wave of ugliness-discrimination (hey talk to Darwin about that one), and despite the bizarre name it actually sounds like a decent group that's fighting for a good cause! Website's in Italian, however :-( But check out their gift shop for boxers ("bello sotto", loosely translated as "handsome down under", and T-shirts designed to seduce).
http://postsecret.blogspot.com/
Shocking, stupefying, and downright unbelievable! (what is, Michael Jackson producing offspring?) Check out some dirty laundry being anonymously aired (not MJ's), and some truly heartbreaking confessions.
http://www.galenfrysinger.com/quaker_steak.htm
This restaurant is named "Quaker Steak and Lube". Um ... um ... *sigh*. Where to begin? Well, at least there is a drive-thru for those who like to get in and get out. And get in and get out. And get in and get out.
http://www.yodcards.com/
Custom printed playing cards, initially founded by a teenager entrepreneur. Slogan? "With us, you're on deck". Sounds like an ace in the hole (ooh, spades are rather sharp).
http://www.daretowearwhite.com/
Dare to wear white? What, before or after Labor Day? Ooooh, this website is for the ladies, or those having difficulty controlling their bowels. Hoping to take the tampon out of taboo ... wait, I got that messed up, sorry - take the taboo out of menstruation, this website hopes to unite women by sharing stories of how they bleed for 3 days but still don't die (stolen from South Park, but I had to say it).
http://www.threadless.com/
Original T-shirt designs, or submit your own! You can even have it imprinted on white, should you be so daring!
http://www.cleanbutt.com/
Quite different from http://www.wipeyourassproperly.com/, this website gives us a unique look into the world of the bidet. Check out the links under "Resources", including: streaming video (um, if I wanted to see that kind of video I'd go to Xtube, thank you very much), and Quality and Safety Assurances (we've all seen what fire hoses can do to solid structures, and I for one am very delicate back there...). Slogan? "A Happy Butt is a Clean Butt". Hmm... can anyone think of another word for "happy"? Ergo, the slogan (hopefully) remains true.
Saturday, September 15, 2007
Random thoughts
The following is a collection of random thoughts and questions I accumulated over the summer. I need to find something better to do with my time, like take up bass fishing or learn how to do pottery like in Ghost.
-Does the National Institute for the Blind in Baltimore care about its building's architectural design? Was the architect blind? Are there statues of 3 mice on the front lawn?
-Why is a firetruck considered a hazmat? Is water hazardous? Or are the men inside the truck "dangerous"? *Sweating*, 4-alarm fire, someone put me out with their hose ...
-Krispy Kreme bacon cheeseburgers (the donuts are the bread); an unnatural combination of foods that were never intended to be united as one (quite like pickles and ice cream, pineapple and pizza, and Richard Simmons with a woman).
-Digestive disease week, May 19-24. Examples: (1) cyclic vomiting syndrome (woah ... is that like when dogs eat grass, puke it up, and then eat it again?), (2) intestinal obstruction (when this happens repeatedly over the course of a few minutes, the anecdote is keeping your clothes on), and (3) Whipple's disease (what a cute name for a baby!).
-What do they do if you're so overweight that you can't fit through the frame of a metal detector anymore? Is that why they keep a can of Crisco at every checkpoint in Washington DC?
-Why is that tourist woman taking a picture of her husband when all he's doing is drinking from a water fountain?
-Why did they change the name of "Uh-Oh Oreo" cookies back to "Golden Oreos" and then label packages with either chocolate-filled or vanilla-filled? Maybe people thought the Uh-Oh Cookies were actual mistakes of the Nabisco factory?
-When you're in a locked one-person public bathroom and someone knocks on the door, what are you supposed to say? "You're just gonna have to hold it buddy!" or "I hope you brought something to read cuz this might take me a while!". Or perhaps "One word there for ya mister ... Lysol. LY-SOL!"
-Why does Caribou Coffee have pictures of outhouses in their bathroom? Do people put pictures of Porta Potties in their outhouses? Do people put pictures of a hole in the ground in their Porta Potties? What do they put in Porta Potties? (certainly not an air freshener)
-Why is the company that provides fuel to the Greyhound busses named "Gas Boy"? I thought I had already claimed this title ... I smell copyright infringment, and it stinks.
-Does the National Institute for the Blind in Baltimore care about its building's architectural design? Was the architect blind? Are there statues of 3 mice on the front lawn?
-Why is a firetruck considered a hazmat? Is water hazardous? Or are the men inside the truck "dangerous"? *Sweating*, 4-alarm fire, someone put me out with their hose ...
-Krispy Kreme bacon cheeseburgers (the donuts are the bread); an unnatural combination of foods that were never intended to be united as one (quite like pickles and ice cream, pineapple and pizza, and Richard Simmons with a woman).
-Digestive disease week, May 19-24. Examples: (1) cyclic vomiting syndrome (woah ... is that like when dogs eat grass, puke it up, and then eat it again?), (2) intestinal obstruction (when this happens repeatedly over the course of a few minutes, the anecdote is keeping your clothes on), and (3) Whipple's disease (what a cute name for a baby!).
-What do they do if you're so overweight that you can't fit through the frame of a metal detector anymore? Is that why they keep a can of Crisco at every checkpoint in Washington DC?
-Why is that tourist woman taking a picture of her husband when all he's doing is drinking from a water fountain?
-Why did they change the name of "Uh-Oh Oreo" cookies back to "Golden Oreos" and then label packages with either chocolate-filled or vanilla-filled? Maybe people thought the Uh-Oh Cookies were actual mistakes of the Nabisco factory?
-When you're in a locked one-person public bathroom and someone knocks on the door, what are you supposed to say? "You're just gonna have to hold it buddy!" or "I hope you brought something to read cuz this might take me a while!". Or perhaps "One word there for ya mister ... Lysol. LY-SOL!"
-Why does Caribou Coffee have pictures of outhouses in their bathroom? Do people put pictures of Porta Potties in their outhouses? Do people put pictures of a hole in the ground in their Porta Potties? What do they put in Porta Potties? (certainly not an air freshener)
-Why is the company that provides fuel to the Greyhound busses named "Gas Boy"? I thought I had already claimed this title ... I smell copyright infringment, and it stinks.
Monday, September 10, 2007
Week 1, Philthydelphia
Ok OK Okay OKAY it's not really that stinky - except for that elusive smell that comes from my one empty kitchen cabinet (and only on Mondays ... weird). When I asked my housemate to explain, the only logical explanation was that we are in Philadelphia, and everything in the City of Brotherly Love smells like ass (you can take a minute to think about that one ...)
I live 2 miles from the Pennsylvania School for the Deaf, so as an eager environmentalist (or just a cheap bastard? well even money is green...) I have decided to shun the 23 bus (the equivalent of the X2 in DC - yeah mmhmm where's my mace for the crazies?) and stroll my fanny down Georgetown Avenue. Being the only white guy within a 3-4 mile radius, I am certain to draw attention. Even the sweet and lovely Gina of the neighborhood diner asked "Um... why are you here?" :-)
But this 4-mile per day hike gives me an opportunity to reflect and ponder the meaning of life, as well as take note of the following:
-Germantown Avenue has the sort of faded-glory look of an old colonial village that regrettably met a 20th century building boom. Unused trolley car rails run the entire length of the street and are cushioned from the curb by cobblestone. Shops that were certainly elegant in their time are now just a shadow of their former grandeur- you have to wonder why so many were abandoned.
-A bow maker shop. I ... lord, I don't even know what to say. The shop oddly reminds me of Ollivander's wand shop in Harry Potter. But I have to wonder- there's enough bow-making business in the world to support a family's bread and butter? How many people in Philadelphia play a string instrument? How do horses feel about losing all their hair, and then being killed for glue?!? Well, it's a sticky subject ...
-A street named Slocum. Give it a minute, it'll come to you eventually.
-A store named "The Candy Shop" but which does not sell candy, only hair care products and extensions (sweet! ... um... never mind).
-A parking lot sign where the view of "Park-" is obscured, leaving only "-king in Rear" (random trivia fact: King Edmund the Second died in 1016 with he was stabbed from behind).
-A lot of Muslim women dressed in full-length black robes with their heads covered. One day I saw one cruising along with a large pair of headphones on and jamming to some tunes (the scarf veils and screens the women's head, the Bose headphones screen out background noise - both aim for purity).
-Eminent death: Philly drivers are obnoxiously inconsiderate, or perhaps everyone in the city has simply gone blind (probably from the smell, no doubt). Almost every morning I have to keep my wits about me to avoid being pummeled to death as I cross the streets (the white man on the crossing sign LIES!)
-A man walking 10 paces ahead of me repeatedly turned around and pointed directly at me without saying a word. He would then swing back around and continue on his merry way. This went on for 10 minutes before he stopped completely and hurriedly ushered me past.
-A package in the window of a shop that reads "Moist and Meaty #1 Burger!", in which directly below the statement there is a picture of a dog.
I live 2 miles from the Pennsylvania School for the Deaf, so as an eager environmentalist (or just a cheap bastard? well even money is green...) I have decided to shun the 23 bus (the equivalent of the X2 in DC - yeah mmhmm where's my mace for the crazies?) and stroll my fanny down Georgetown Avenue. Being the only white guy within a 3-4 mile radius, I am certain to draw attention. Even the sweet and lovely Gina of the neighborhood diner asked "Um... why are you here?" :-)
But this 4-mile per day hike gives me an opportunity to reflect and ponder the meaning of life, as well as take note of the following:
-Germantown Avenue has the sort of faded-glory look of an old colonial village that regrettably met a 20th century building boom. Unused trolley car rails run the entire length of the street and are cushioned from the curb by cobblestone. Shops that were certainly elegant in their time are now just a shadow of their former grandeur- you have to wonder why so many were abandoned.
-A bow maker shop. I ... lord, I don't even know what to say. The shop oddly reminds me of Ollivander's wand shop in Harry Potter. But I have to wonder- there's enough bow-making business in the world to support a family's bread and butter? How many people in Philadelphia play a string instrument? How do horses feel about losing all their hair, and then being killed for glue?!? Well, it's a sticky subject ...
-A street named Slocum. Give it a minute, it'll come to you eventually.
-A store named "The Candy Shop" but which does not sell candy, only hair care products and extensions (sweet! ... um... never mind).
-A parking lot sign where the view of "Park-" is obscured, leaving only "-king in Rear" (random trivia fact: King Edmund the Second died in 1016 with he was stabbed from behind).
-A lot of Muslim women dressed in full-length black robes with their heads covered. One day I saw one cruising along with a large pair of headphones on and jamming to some tunes (the scarf veils and screens the women's head, the Bose headphones screen out background noise - both aim for purity).
-Eminent death: Philly drivers are obnoxiously inconsiderate, or perhaps everyone in the city has simply gone blind (probably from the smell, no doubt). Almost every morning I have to keep my wits about me to avoid being pummeled to death as I cross the streets (the white man on the crossing sign LIES!)
-A man walking 10 paces ahead of me repeatedly turned around and pointed directly at me without saying a word. He would then swing back around and continue on his merry way. This went on for 10 minutes before he stopped completely and hurriedly ushered me past.
-A package in the window of a shop that reads "Moist and Meaty #1 Burger!", in which directly below the statement there is a picture of a dog.
Sunday, August 19, 2007
Haiku mania (575!)
As always, a weekend in the company of Matt and Paul brings about a trip to Remington's to shake and shimmy it a bit, multiple restaurant visits with large portions of dessert, and a modest amount of alcohol. This trip was markedly special because of the latest trend in haiku-making, inspired by Matt's original haiku creation that for some reason involved excrement located inconveniently in the corner. I wish I could explain it further, the laws of sanity complicate things a bit.
Matt's original haiku
I wrote a haiku
And it was started like this:
Poop in the corner
Sleep-deprived haiku
Three hours of sweet sleep
Translating god's words for you
Damn you homo-fries !!!
(Composed in remembrance of a 4:00a.m. trip to get hobo-fries ((a.k.a. disco-fries)), which resulted in a pun by changing the word "hobo" to "homo" due to it's striking similarity in texture and color to male homosexual behavior -- the debauchery that ensued at the 24-hour diner resulted in me only getting an inexcusable 3 hours of beauty rest before standing by the altar of the Spirit at All Soul's to interpret the following morning)
Falcor haiku
Falcor was a dog
Well he was a dragon dog
Maybe just my dog
(for a full understanding of the hilarity that it so caused by a small dog named Falcor, please visit: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pC3n-LC3Em4 )
Random carnivorous haiku
Can I have your meat?
Your bacon for a dollar
Take it up the front
(On a previous trip to the 24-hour diner a drunk frat boy ((redundant?)) stopped at our table to inquire about Matt's meat, a.k.a. his bacon, and attempted ((successfully)) to purchase the strips. Later, when presented with the bill, our waiter instructed us to "take it up the front". Naturally, everyone at the table was quite puzzled as we had always taken it up the ... ok you get the idea)
Erectile dysfunction haiku
Penis malfunction
Modern science has the cure:
Mycoxaphlopin
(A clever play on words by Dr. Paul on an imaginary medicine to relieve the most grievous of maladies that infects the male population)
Menstruating haiku
Christie and her box
Birthing hips unfulfilled
It weeps tears of blood
(At the diner a certain eruption occurred due to a waiter's failure to bring a take-away box with the meal, and instead bringing Christie's entire meal in 2 separate take-away boxes without a plate. Christie, while experiencing a flux in hormones and neurotransmitters that induce calmness, was less than pleased)
Here's my haiku blog
I hope you found it funny
If not then f#&@ you!
Matt's original haiku
I wrote a haiku
And it was started like this:
Poop in the corner
Sleep-deprived haiku
Three hours of sweet sleep
Translating god's words for you
Damn you homo-fries !!!
(Composed in remembrance of a 4:00a.m. trip to get hobo-fries ((a.k.a. disco-fries)), which resulted in a pun by changing the word "hobo" to "homo" due to it's striking similarity in texture and color to male homosexual behavior -- the debauchery that ensued at the 24-hour diner resulted in me only getting an inexcusable 3 hours of beauty rest before standing by the altar of the Spirit at All Soul's to interpret the following morning)
Falcor haiku
Falcor was a dog
Well he was a dragon dog
Maybe just my dog
(for a full understanding of the hilarity that it so caused by a small dog named Falcor, please visit: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pC3n-LC3Em4 )
Random carnivorous haiku
Can I have your meat?
Your bacon for a dollar
Take it up the front
(On a previous trip to the 24-hour diner a drunk frat boy ((redundant?)) stopped at our table to inquire about Matt's meat, a.k.a. his bacon, and attempted ((successfully)) to purchase the strips. Later, when presented with the bill, our waiter instructed us to "take it up the front". Naturally, everyone at the table was quite puzzled as we had always taken it up the ... ok you get the idea)
Erectile dysfunction haiku
Penis malfunction
Modern science has the cure:
Mycoxaphlopin
(A clever play on words by Dr. Paul on an imaginary medicine to relieve the most grievous of maladies that infects the male population)
Menstruating haiku
Christie and her box
Birthing hips unfulfilled
It weeps tears of blood
(At the diner a certain eruption occurred due to a waiter's failure to bring a take-away box with the meal, and instead bringing Christie's entire meal in 2 separate take-away boxes without a plate. Christie, while experiencing a flux in hormones and neurotransmitters that induce calmness, was less than pleased)
Here's my haiku blog
I hope you found it funny
If not then f#&@ you!
Tuesday, June 12, 2007
A Weekend with Dr. Paul
Random quotes/tid-bits from a fun-filled weekend with Dr. Paul last March:
"How would you feel a lump in that?"
Referring to ... oh god only knows what. Either a banana or a melon, but it involved fruit in some capacity!
High school Latin Club scavenger hunt
Certainly a way to carpe diem- Paul used to be a member of the Latin Club, "Latin" being short for "Less Awkward Than Introverted Nerds" (or are they?) that led earnest scavenger hunts throughout the city in search of clues, declensions, and a reason to wake up the following morning.
Aerobics room
While attending a fancy-schmancy reception for the hospital, one couldn't help but notice that the area/room used for dining was marked in one exterior hallway as the aerobics room. This is the one area of the hospital where I imagine bending over won't result in a sharp needle being shoved into your buttocks (what happens in the showers, however, is anyone's guess).
"We are the gayest people in this church!"
The aforementioned aerobics room was actually a church converted (wink) into a multipurpose room (eat, sweat, and ... well, whatever happens in the shower)
"Oh my god Norah!"
As Dr. Paul and I were practically the only two gay men in a room of complete WASPs, we felt it our duty to gasp and clasp hands like 12-year-old teenie-boppers at an NSYNC concert and scream.
"That is what you use alpaca fibers for - feel it bitch, feel it! That's what alpaca's for!!!!"
An exuberant Dr. Paul was insistent that I feel his scarf made of alpaca fibers. Immediately after, he took me to his backyard where his neighbors keep their alpacas. It was like giving me a beautiful emerald necklace and then showing me the dead grandmother's body where he had ripped the jewelry from. Nice.
"Are you saying we have gay alpaca?"
Perhaps it is in their nature, or the contagious gaiety about me, but upon notice that they had visitors to the backyard the alpacas began sniffing and moving in slightly erogenous ways.
Deaf child area
After seeing this sign on the road I kept my eyes peeled for a gathering of deaf children. It seemed, however, that the herd (wink) had moved on...
My to do list: learn Chinese, testicular exam
After consultation with Dr. Paul it was very clear to me that there were two things on my extensive and ever-growing to-do list that needed to be completed before the end of the weekend. Learning Chinese was a breeze, but that testicular exam proved to be long and hard.
Blueberry pancakes and my new wife....
It is rare that I would promise my affections to the opposite sex. The blueberry pancakes of a local diner, however, had me in a matrimonial tizzy on Saturday morning. I could live out the rest of my sex life depending on alcohol and a face-mask of Brad Pitt, right?
"I'm gonna get loads and loads of juicy bloody cootch"
By far the most outrageous quote of the weekend, in vulgarity and in just plain ewww-ness, Dr. Paul comments on his next rotation in his residency. Sadly, this would also be the fate that befalls me should I accept the offer of free blueberry pancakes for life. But I got the better end (wink) of this deal; at least I can practice medicine in the dark.
"How would you feel a lump in that?"
Referring to ... oh god only knows what. Either a banana or a melon, but it involved fruit in some capacity!
High school Latin Club scavenger hunt
Certainly a way to carpe diem- Paul used to be a member of the Latin Club, "Latin" being short for "Less Awkward Than Introverted Nerds" (or are they?) that led earnest scavenger hunts throughout the city in search of clues, declensions, and a reason to wake up the following morning.
Aerobics room
While attending a fancy-schmancy reception for the hospital, one couldn't help but notice that the area/room used for dining was marked in one exterior hallway as the aerobics room. This is the one area of the hospital where I imagine bending over won't result in a sharp needle being shoved into your buttocks (what happens in the showers, however, is anyone's guess).
"We are the gayest people in this church!"
The aforementioned aerobics room was actually a church converted (wink) into a multipurpose room (eat, sweat, and ... well, whatever happens in the shower)
"Oh my god Norah!"
As Dr. Paul and I were practically the only two gay men in a room of complete WASPs, we felt it our duty to gasp and clasp hands like 12-year-old teenie-boppers at an NSYNC concert and scream.
"That is what you use alpaca fibers for - feel it bitch, feel it! That's what alpaca's for!!!!"
An exuberant Dr. Paul was insistent that I feel his scarf made of alpaca fibers. Immediately after, he took me to his backyard where his neighbors keep their alpacas. It was like giving me a beautiful emerald necklace and then showing me the dead grandmother's body where he had ripped the jewelry from. Nice.
"Are you saying we have gay alpaca?"
Perhaps it is in their nature, or the contagious gaiety about me, but upon notice that they had visitors to the backyard the alpacas began sniffing and moving in slightly erogenous ways.
Deaf child area
After seeing this sign on the road I kept my eyes peeled for a gathering of deaf children. It seemed, however, that the herd (wink) had moved on...
My to do list: learn Chinese, testicular exam
After consultation with Dr. Paul it was very clear to me that there were two things on my extensive and ever-growing to-do list that needed to be completed before the end of the weekend. Learning Chinese was a breeze, but that testicular exam proved to be long and hard.
Blueberry pancakes and my new wife....
It is rare that I would promise my affections to the opposite sex. The blueberry pancakes of a local diner, however, had me in a matrimonial tizzy on Saturday morning. I could live out the rest of my sex life depending on alcohol and a face-mask of Brad Pitt, right?
"I'm gonna get loads and loads of juicy bloody cootch"
By far the most outrageous quote of the weekend, in vulgarity and in just plain ewww-ness, Dr. Paul comments on his next rotation in his residency. Sadly, this would also be the fate that befalls me should I accept the offer of free blueberry pancakes for life. But I got the better end (wink) of this deal; at least I can practice medicine in the dark.
Sunday, April 22, 2007
What the f*#%???
-Passing a group of tourists who were on a paid professional tour … and admiring the features of a parking lot.
-Two signs: the first, “Traffic calming area”, followed quickly by “Humps”. What’s so calming about that?!?
-A deranged man on the Q2 bus, who chuckled at invisible objects for about 30 minutes and then abruptly turned to me to ask, “Are you Jewish?”
-A man in the Greyhound bus station doing unnecessarily loud yoga in the middle of the waiting area (pants, moans, and other uncomfortable noises that you would rather hear in a porno, and not while sitting next to a scary homeless man picking his feet)
-Wondering what “folate” is, and why there is 30% of it in an orange juice bottle.
-A man on the Metro carrying a sign and swinging it in a hypnotic fashion, reading “The Vatican hides pedophiles”.
-Quote from a Wheat Thins box: “try this delicious, entertaining recipe with your family and friends … refried red beans with tomato and poblano”. I suppose the aftermath of this recipe would be entertaining to some families, like that of the Nutty Professor.
-Seeing “valet parking” at a hospital
-Driving past the Happy Tails dog spa … what?
-Passing a group of young blondes on the street, when one of them comments, “Oh my god! I don’t even know what a good IQ is!!!”
-Two signs: the first, “Traffic calming area”, followed quickly by “Humps”. What’s so calming about that?!?
-A deranged man on the Q2 bus, who chuckled at invisible objects for about 30 minutes and then abruptly turned to me to ask, “Are you Jewish?”
-A man in the Greyhound bus station doing unnecessarily loud yoga in the middle of the waiting area (pants, moans, and other uncomfortable noises that you would rather hear in a porno, and not while sitting next to a scary homeless man picking his feet)
-Wondering what “folate” is, and why there is 30% of it in an orange juice bottle.
-A man on the Metro carrying a sign and swinging it in a hypnotic fashion, reading “The Vatican hides pedophiles”.
-Quote from a Wheat Thins box: “try this delicious, entertaining recipe with your family and friends … refried red beans with tomato and poblano”. I suppose the aftermath of this recipe would be entertaining to some families, like that of the Nutty Professor.
-Seeing “valet parking” at a hospital
-Driving past the Happy Tails dog spa … what?
-Passing a group of young blondes on the street, when one of them comments, “Oh my god! I don’t even know what a good IQ is!!!”
Monday, April 9, 2007
All breads are not created Così (the same)
And the pressing duel between the oven-baked delights of the chain
restaurant conglomerates begins!
In one corner we have the tried-and-true baguette from Au Bon Pain(which, as the name suggests, should at least be "good"). In the othercorner is the multigrain flatbread by sandwich extraordinaire Cosi (Italians pronounce it /koh-ZEE/).
Strangely, the bread from Au Bon Pain sets up an unexpected cognatebetween "Pain" in the company name (French) and "pain" (American Englishfor "ouch" or "watching Keanu Reeves act") in the process of consumingthis seemingly innocent baguette. "Faux amis", indeed.
The manner in which one must eat a baguette from ABP is analogous toripping the uncooked chicken meat off of a thigh bone that's been leftin the freezer. You clamp down with all your might, squeezing andwiggling your dainty baguette until the seemingly welded pieces of flourfinally cave and send your head in a backward thrust that resembles thetrauma of whiplash victims (there is rumor that the CEO of ABP sits on the board of the American Chiropractor Association).
Così offers a non-violent approach to bread-consumption: soft, chewy,and wholesome goodness that massages your taste buds with every bite.
Perhaps the breads are symbolic of their native peoples: the Italianflatbread (pleasant, palatable, and memorable), and the French baguette (stale, rough, and painful).
Incidentally, while in France in 2005 I met a random guy who took me ona romantic stroll of the city. Towards the end of our Tour de Nowheresville (and after some kissing of the French sort), we came across a discarded baguette in the street. Frenchy-boy stomped feverishly on it and yelled "This.... this is the.... the SHIT of France!!!"
Merde!!! Even the French don't like their bread.
Sunday, April 8, 2007
Oreos are not gluten free
Easter dinner, 2007
A very interesting idea for 21st century cuisine and dining, especially with food allergies and preferences running amok. Why not include a label for every item in a buffet, indicating which foods are gluten-free, vegetarian-select (watch out for marshmallows, do not be fooled by their seemingly herbivorous qualities!), and choked full o' nuts!
David: "But ... why are food allergies all of a sudden all the rage? Where were all those people 100 years ago, and what did they do?"
Brayde: "Well ... all those people died."
Problem solved. Until we get back to compliance with Darwin and laws of natural selection, post-it notes will have to suffice.
A very interesting idea for 21st century cuisine and dining, especially with food allergies and preferences running amok. Why not include a label for every item in a buffet, indicating which foods are gluten-free, vegetarian-select (watch out for marshmallows, do not be fooled by their seemingly herbivorous qualities!), and choked full o' nuts!
David: "But ... why are food allergies all of a sudden all the rage? Where were all those people 100 years ago, and what did they do?"
Brayde: "Well ... all those people died."
Problem solved. Until we get back to compliance with Darwin and laws of natural selection, post-it notes will have to suffice.
Saturday, April 7, 2007
KFC (Kite Flying Club)
Very interesting photo: the lady bug, free to flow in the fluttering frenzied wind is teetering between the ominous stormy clouds of winter and the striking sapphire skies of spring. The wind, like the weather of DC, is unpredictably harsh.
Friday, April 6, 2007
Cute Easter Food
"Bird's nest" cupcake, eggs are jelly beans and grass is died coconut
shreds.
Thursday, April 5, 2007
Disturbingly Informative
Disturbing- yes. Informative- sure. And no, we aren't talking about Fox News (well, the "informative" part should have tipped you). The Mütter Museum of Philadelphia is not all bells and whistles like the newscasts of the information age; rather, it is a splendid educational journey into the depths of human deformity and anomalies.
"But wait, David," you say. "If we wanted to watch the human race at its worst, couldn't we just catch an episode of Big Brother?"
Yes friends, you could. But in going to the Mütter you could simply imagine that the skeletal remains laid out before you are the skinned carcasses of those very beloved Big Brother characters-- or anyone from a reality series, for that matter.
Most of the displays at the Mütter involve the field of teratology, meaning: "the study of malformations or serious deviations from the normal type in developing organisms".
Wait... isn't that the same as gynaecology??? "Oh no he didn't !!!" Just teasing ... *dodges fruit*
At the exit of the museum there is a guest book where visitors can write their candid reactions to the exhibits; here are a few that I considered worth of note:
- "shriveled penis is gross"
- the following adjectives: "rank, gnar, sexy, rocks, barf, nasty"
- "it's like a car crash- you want to look away, but can't!!!!"
- the following adjectives: "rank, gnar, sexy, rocks, barf, nasty"
- "it's like a car crash- you want to look away, but can't!!!!"
- "I see dead people"
- "yay dead babies!"
- "Where's Bush's brain?" (silly question ... and where's that unicorn while we're at it???)
- "Loss of appetite and erectile dysfunction"
- "I could go for some applesauce"
- "I love Ben Franklin!"
- "Being an undertaker, this was lovely to see!" (this also reminded me that I've always wanted to meet an undertaker ... guess it got buried on my to-do list...)
- "Bob Dylan should come here!"
- "I want to shower with the soap lady!" (there was a display with an obese woman whose body had "fossilized" into soap)
- "yay dead babies!"
- "Where's Bush's brain?" (silly question ... and where's that unicorn while we're at it???)
- "Loss of appetite and erectile dysfunction"
- "I could go for some applesauce"
- "I love Ben Franklin!"
- "Being an undertaker, this was lovely to see!" (this also reminded me that I've always wanted to meet an undertaker ... guess it got buried on my to-do list...)
- "Bob Dylan should come here!"
- "I want to shower with the soap lady!" (there was a display with an obese woman whose body had "fossilized" into soap)
- "I keep skeletons in my closet and nobody knows" (um..... what?)
So let's sum up the Mütter experience: you come, you're intriguingly appalled, grotesquely fascinated that these things could ever happen, lose your appetite, and you are in dire need of a good shower.
Quite like attending the Republican National Convention, I imagine ...
So let's sum up the Mütter experience: you come, you're intriguingly appalled, grotesquely fascinated that these things could ever happen, lose your appetite, and you are in dire need of a good shower.
Quite like attending the Republican National Convention, I imagine ...
Monday, February 19, 2007
Bacon and Scrapple
I was enjoying a bowl of tepid tomato soup (that was in dire need of flavor) and a hearty biscuit (with that Bisquick aftertaste) at a small diner in Philadelphia when I came across a wealth of blog material printed on small cards for patrons to read at their leisure.
The first bit was a comment on "bacon", the staple food of any good diner: "Bacon is not a euphemism for money; rather, the phrase has its roots in 12th century England. A church in the town of Dunmow promised a side of bacon to any married man who could swear before the congregation and God that he had not quarreled with his wife for a year and a day."
Wow! Bacon must have been quite a commodity in those times! Now you can get a side of bacon at IHOP for a lot less than a vow of peace with your partner (although it might result in a war in the bathroom). And what's with that year and a day? Lord … a man who brings home the bacon in Dunmow does more than just bread-winning and promising harmony; he's probably a lying pig.
The next item for my reading pleasure was a discussion on "scrapple", a popular concoction of vomit and intestines that is ravished by northeasterners and gutter rats alike. "Scrapple: The Pennsylvania Dutch call it Panhas, southerners call it Poor-do, and in Maryland, Virginia, and North Carolina it's called Liver-mush. Scrapple is a medieval word for leftovers mixed up with the German word Panhaskreppel and the Netherlands Dutch word Schrapelkoekeje."
So not only is scrapple itself a mush of shit and gravy, but so are its semantic origins.
Scrapple wrappers in the grocery store are at least honest about the contents of this scrapple-diddle-ee-umptious delight (usually pig brain, whale carcass, sheep toe-jam), but this Philly diner challenged the commercialized version of scrapple to provide a more wholesome, healthier alternative: cornmeal, buckwheat flour, seasonings and meat broth cooked until thickened, sliced thin and fried until brown, good with ketchup or syrup. Now that doesn't sound too bad.
I paid my $4.50, wished I had spent it elsewhere, gathered my belongs, and finally gave into the desire to buy a local "Eat more scrapple" shirt at the register. I'm a schmuck from Delaware, what can I say? Table scraps are part of my blood.
(for a complete list of diner-ese phrase-ology, visit http://www.bbc.co.uk/dna/h2g2/A890589)
The first bit was a comment on "bacon", the staple food of any good diner: "Bacon is not a euphemism for money; rather, the phrase has its roots in 12th century England. A church in the town of Dunmow promised a side of bacon to any married man who could swear before the congregation and God that he had not quarreled with his wife for a year and a day."
Wow! Bacon must have been quite a commodity in those times! Now you can get a side of bacon at IHOP for a lot less than a vow of peace with your partner (although it might result in a war in the bathroom). And what's with that year and a day? Lord … a man who brings home the bacon in Dunmow does more than just bread-winning and promising harmony; he's probably a lying pig.
The next item for my reading pleasure was a discussion on "scrapple", a popular concoction of vomit and intestines that is ravished by northeasterners and gutter rats alike. "Scrapple: The Pennsylvania Dutch call it Panhas, southerners call it Poor-do, and in Maryland, Virginia, and North Carolina it's called Liver-mush. Scrapple is a medieval word for leftovers mixed up with the German word Panhaskreppel and the Netherlands Dutch word Schrapelkoekeje."
So not only is scrapple itself a mush of shit and gravy, but so are its semantic origins.
Scrapple wrappers in the grocery store are at least honest about the contents of this scrapple-diddle-ee-umptious delight (usually pig brain, whale carcass, sheep toe-jam), but this Philly diner challenged the commercialized version of scrapple to provide a more wholesome, healthier alternative: cornmeal, buckwheat flour, seasonings and meat broth cooked until thickened, sliced thin and fried until brown, good with ketchup or syrup. Now that doesn't sound too bad.
I paid my $4.50, wished I had spent it elsewhere, gathered my belongs, and finally gave into the desire to buy a local "Eat more scrapple" shirt at the register. I'm a schmuck from Delaware, what can I say? Table scraps are part of my blood.
(for a complete list of diner-ese phrase-ology, visit http://www.bbc.co.uk/dna/h2g2/A890589)
Thursday, February 15, 2007
The Greyhound Experience
This semester I have the unique privilege of traveling back and forth from DC and Philadelphia via America's most prized form of public transportation: the Greyhound Bus (or the Peter Pan Bus… coincidentally, I am currently working on a blog that compares a man's inability to form emotional attachments with others to the story of Peter, watch this space!).
There are a few pointers that I can dish out to any of you who are brave enough to ride a contraption that bears the name of an animal that is often shot to death when past its prime (which, strangely, all of the passengers have reached). Lucky the drivers of the Greyhound busses are not put up to the same standards of actual race dogs; just in case, the driver is nonetheless seated in a bulletproof enclosure.
If you buy your tickets on the internet you can "skip" the hassle of waiting in the speedy (like molasses) line of customers by circumventing them at the electronic "Will Call" booth (and, no joke: there is an actual red carpet leading up to the booth). There is a modest $4 fee for this service, and for the man who has to clean the red carpet. Sadly, it is a four dollars better spent elsewhere, as these booths are always broken and you end up waiting in the regular line besides- and, with no carpet (oooohhhh!!!).
Do not consume any liquids an entire 3 hours before your Greyhound ride; you will regret it if you do. Going to the bathroom on a bus is about as pleasant as riding home completely drunk and sick in the back of a cab driven by a blind person.
One highly disturbing aspect of the Greyhound voyage is their list of prohibited items; a list that would suggest that these items have been carried on board in the past and have been met with displeasure from other passengers.
They include: ammunition, combustible liquids, fireworks, hazardous materials, and other reasonable limitations. However, there is also mention of cremated remains, materials with a disagreeable odor (however no mention of humans with a disagreeable odor), and my favorite- corpses. Yes friends, you heard it here first: please do not check any baggage containing corpses on the Greyhound.
Naturally I am respectful of these baggage restrictions, yet while riding the doggy-style bus I have to wonder—man, some of these people aren't moving and may have actually become corpses in transit (chuck 'em at the next stop?), and "disagreeable odor" is the understatement of the year when you get a whiff of that damned onboard bathroom.
There are a few pointers that I can dish out to any of you who are brave enough to ride a contraption that bears the name of an animal that is often shot to death when past its prime (which, strangely, all of the passengers have reached). Lucky the drivers of the Greyhound busses are not put up to the same standards of actual race dogs; just in case, the driver is nonetheless seated in a bulletproof enclosure.
If you buy your tickets on the internet you can "skip" the hassle of waiting in the speedy (like molasses) line of customers by circumventing them at the electronic "Will Call" booth (and, no joke: there is an actual red carpet leading up to the booth). There is a modest $4 fee for this service, and for the man who has to clean the red carpet. Sadly, it is a four dollars better spent elsewhere, as these booths are always broken and you end up waiting in the regular line besides- and, with no carpet (oooohhhh!!!).
Do not consume any liquids an entire 3 hours before your Greyhound ride; you will regret it if you do. Going to the bathroom on a bus is about as pleasant as riding home completely drunk and sick in the back of a cab driven by a blind person.
One highly disturbing aspect of the Greyhound voyage is their list of prohibited items; a list that would suggest that these items have been carried on board in the past and have been met with displeasure from other passengers.
They include: ammunition, combustible liquids, fireworks, hazardous materials, and other reasonable limitations. However, there is also mention of cremated remains, materials with a disagreeable odor (however no mention of humans with a disagreeable odor), and my favorite- corpses. Yes friends, you heard it here first: please do not check any baggage containing corpses on the Greyhound.
Naturally I am respectful of these baggage restrictions, yet while riding the doggy-style bus I have to wonder—man, some of these people aren't moving and may have actually become corpses in transit (chuck 'em at the next stop?), and "disagreeable odor" is the understatement of the year when you get a whiff of that damned onboard bathroom.
Monday, January 22, 2007
Santa Psychology
We are obsessed with big, old, fat, hairy men in red suits, aren't we? And no, I'm not talking about the bears' float in the Pride Parade; rather, Father Christmas, Pere Noel, crème fraïche, the big cheese, or Sinterklaas (sounds like a weapon from Star Trek—Mr. LaForge, blast that Borg with the Sinterklaas, then we can blitzen out of here and follow that comet!).
Apparently, the phenomenon of children gullibly accepting the lies of their parents and adults alike has been remarkably unchanged since this subject was first studied in the late 1800s.
Carl Anderson is a child psychologist who specializes in the field of lying and falsehood-spreading to innocent toddlers and youngsters that blindly accept the notion that strangers who eat cookies and milk are permitted into their homes … provided they leave a wrapped present behind.
First of all, a comment: how typical of a man!!! Rushes himself up and down the chimney, grabs a quick snack, dribbles, and leaves behind a "surprise" that is quite difficult to get rid of. Yeah, his cheeks are all rosy from getting smacked a few times by Ms. Claus for hopping a few too many chimneys. Bitch … ho ho ho, indeed.
And now we return to my commentary where I am transferring my anger towards my lying parents on to child psychologist Carl Anderson. Mr. Anderson amuses his shrink-freak mind by dressing as Kris Kringle and blatantly deceiving the puppy-dogged eyes of hundreds of children at the Dallas NorthPark Center (go figure, Texas …).
Anderson states that the Santa "set of beliefs" has remained intact over the past 100 years. I wonder if he's at all surprised by this? Certainly children should be taught at an early age not to trust what is told to them by their parents and caregivers. How are children supposed to understand genuine from not? Truth from fiction? Fat man in house from armed burglar with an appetite?
I firmly believe that you should only lie to children when you can profitably gain from their naivety, quite like taking candy from a baby. Spinning a tale about Santa Claus actually costs you more money to buy gifts and presents; why would you do this to yourself?!?
Alas, not much can be said for a big fat white guy that goes around and spreads lies to the people of America. Oh wait … how did we switch from Santa to Capitol Hill?
Apparently, the phenomenon of children gullibly accepting the lies of their parents and adults alike has been remarkably unchanged since this subject was first studied in the late 1800s.
Carl Anderson is a child psychologist who specializes in the field of lying and falsehood-spreading to innocent toddlers and youngsters that blindly accept the notion that strangers who eat cookies and milk are permitted into their homes … provided they leave a wrapped present behind.
First of all, a comment: how typical of a man!!! Rushes himself up and down the chimney, grabs a quick snack, dribbles, and leaves behind a "surprise" that is quite difficult to get rid of. Yeah, his cheeks are all rosy from getting smacked a few times by Ms. Claus for hopping a few too many chimneys. Bitch … ho ho ho, indeed.
And now we return to my commentary where I am transferring my anger towards my lying parents on to child psychologist Carl Anderson. Mr. Anderson amuses his shrink-freak mind by dressing as Kris Kringle and blatantly deceiving the puppy-dogged eyes of hundreds of children at the Dallas NorthPark Center (go figure, Texas …).
Anderson states that the Santa "set of beliefs" has remained intact over the past 100 years. I wonder if he's at all surprised by this? Certainly children should be taught at an early age not to trust what is told to them by their parents and caregivers. How are children supposed to understand genuine from not? Truth from fiction? Fat man in house from armed burglar with an appetite?
I firmly believe that you should only lie to children when you can profitably gain from their naivety, quite like taking candy from a baby. Spinning a tale about Santa Claus actually costs you more money to buy gifts and presents; why would you do this to yourself?!?
Alas, not much can be said for a big fat white guy that goes around and spreads lies to the people of America. Oh wait … how did we switch from Santa to Capitol Hill?
Saturday, January 13, 2007
Air & Space Museum
A National Museum is the best place in the world to collect interesting blog material. It is a collective embodiment of American life; the feats, the accomplishments, the horrific acts of human cruelty … nothing could be better.
And what more?!? The throngs of people who come to gawk at the enormous displays … or to sit in the McDonald's food court and wearily rub their trampled soles (maybe some soul-rubbing would get them out of McDonald's?).
Ramblings and Observations of the National Air & Space Museum:
Highest jump every recorded: 8 feet and one-half inch.
Now that is impressive, and an excellent way to get around those damned tourists who stand tenaciously on the left-hand side of escalators during rush hour.
"Jellyfish project themselves by contracting their bodies and expelling water"
Well, the last time I peed in the ocean I didn't project much, except for a warm patch that was still observed 5 minutes later by an old lady who mistook it for a hot spring.
Diapers for astronauts
In flight and spacewalks astronauts wear a "fecal containment system" (isn't that basically just a big toilet strapped around your waste? er … waist?) and a "urine collection and transfer assembly". Damn … those are fancy names for a crapper and piss tube, lord. Incidentally, there was a fecal bag on display just below a toothbrush … skank-nasty, friends.
Virginity rocks
I passed a post-adolescent male wearing a shirt that proudly stated "Virginity rocks!" My immediate thought was, "No it doesn't! It blows!!! Wait … then again, no it doesn't …"
Packing for flight
Astronauts take more care packing for their missions then we do for our flimsy 30,000 foot adventures in the air:
-Shark repellent – holy crap!!! We can send a man to the moon in search of extra-terrestrial life, but we still haven't found a way to solve that pesky "fish-eat-man" issue.
-Nylon parachute line – this thing looked like a mini-noose. Perhaps it is the more pleasant option should the repellent run dry.
-Waterproof matches – you've fought off the shark, hung your fellow astronaut friend so you don't have to split the rations, and now you really need a smoke.
Wright brothers
Did you know that the Wright brothers repaired bicycles before learning to defy gravity? Bike boys in flight; suddenly I'm reminded of E.T.
Planet Symbols
On one large wall of the museum there are the various symbols for the planets. Not surprisingly, the symbol for Venus is the traditional "female" sign (circle plus cross), and for Mars it is the sign for "male" (circle plus arrow).
What caught my attention was the sign for Uranus: an exact copy of the "male" symbol, except with a big dot (or puncture?) directly in the center of the hole. In essence- a pierced male. Coincidence? I think not. Copernicus knew what was up. No astronomer could possibly fondle a large cylindrical object all day without getting a bit dirty.
And what more?!? The throngs of people who come to gawk at the enormous displays … or to sit in the McDonald's food court and wearily rub their trampled soles (maybe some soul-rubbing would get them out of McDonald's?).
Ramblings and Observations of the National Air & Space Museum:
Highest jump every recorded: 8 feet and one-half inch.
Now that is impressive, and an excellent way to get around those damned tourists who stand tenaciously on the left-hand side of escalators during rush hour.
"Jellyfish project themselves by contracting their bodies and expelling water"
Well, the last time I peed in the ocean I didn't project much, except for a warm patch that was still observed 5 minutes later by an old lady who mistook it for a hot spring.
Diapers for astronauts
In flight and spacewalks astronauts wear a "fecal containment system" (isn't that basically just a big toilet strapped around your waste? er … waist?) and a "urine collection and transfer assembly". Damn … those are fancy names for a crapper and piss tube, lord. Incidentally, there was a fecal bag on display just below a toothbrush … skank-nasty, friends.
Virginity rocks
I passed a post-adolescent male wearing a shirt that proudly stated "Virginity rocks!" My immediate thought was, "No it doesn't! It blows!!! Wait … then again, no it doesn't …"
Packing for flight
Astronauts take more care packing for their missions then we do for our flimsy 30,000 foot adventures in the air:
-Shark repellent – holy crap!!! We can send a man to the moon in search of extra-terrestrial life, but we still haven't found a way to solve that pesky "fish-eat-man" issue.
-Nylon parachute line – this thing looked like a mini-noose. Perhaps it is the more pleasant option should the repellent run dry.
-Waterproof matches – you've fought off the shark, hung your fellow astronaut friend so you don't have to split the rations, and now you really need a smoke.
Wright brothers
Did you know that the Wright brothers repaired bicycles before learning to defy gravity? Bike boys in flight; suddenly I'm reminded of E.T.
Planet Symbols
On one large wall of the museum there are the various symbols for the planets. Not surprisingly, the symbol for Venus is the traditional "female" sign (circle plus cross), and for Mars it is the sign for "male" (circle plus arrow).
What caught my attention was the sign for Uranus: an exact copy of the "male" symbol, except with a big dot (or puncture?) directly in the center of the hole. In essence- a pierced male. Coincidence? I think not. Copernicus knew what was up. No astronomer could possibly fondle a large cylindrical object all day without getting a bit dirty.
Monday, January 8, 2007
2006 Cutting Room Floor
Random blog comments that didn't make the cut for 2006
-DC is way too small if I'm running into girls that I've kissed from house parties when I'm at the gay bar.
-being aroused by a carwash sign: "Hot lustra triple foaming polish"
-20% of the world's helium is used to cool MRI machines; 8% is used for balloons
-Comment from a grocery store cashier that made me stifle a giggle: "Do you mind if I put your raw meat in plastic?"
-Random quote: "If there's room for doubt, there's room for hope"
-A first "date" where the following were discussed: symbolic circumcision for admission to the Jewish faith, yeast infections in one's mouth, Pious Potato (name of an imaginary potato-only hut), and effective use of pepper spray … che romantico, eh ragazzi?
-Spinach scare of 2006: I often wondered if the other leafed salad components were like "finally, my chance in the spotlight! 2006 will be the year of rugola!!!" Do salad leaves get jealous?
-When some straight men dance it looks like someone administering the Heimlich maneuver on himself
-DC is way too small if I'm running into girls that I've kissed from house parties when I'm at the gay bar.
-being aroused by a carwash sign: "Hot lustra triple foaming polish"
-20% of the world's helium is used to cool MRI machines; 8% is used for balloons
-Comment from a grocery store cashier that made me stifle a giggle: "Do you mind if I put your raw meat in plastic?"
-Random quote: "If there's room for doubt, there's room for hope"
-A first "date" where the following were discussed: symbolic circumcision for admission to the Jewish faith, yeast infections in one's mouth, Pious Potato (name of an imaginary potato-only hut), and effective use of pepper spray … che romantico, eh ragazzi?
-Spinach scare of 2006: I often wondered if the other leafed salad components were like "finally, my chance in the spotlight! 2006 will be the year of rugola!!!" Do salad leaves get jealous?
-When some straight men dance it looks like someone administering the Heimlich maneuver on himself
Thursday, January 4, 2007
iTunes count, 2006
The most popular songs on my iTunes for 2006 …
Irreplaceable, Beyonce
Angels, Jessica Simpson
A Public Affair, Jessica Simpson
All You Wanted, Michelle Branch
Life is a Highway, Rascal Flatts
Cleptomania, Sugarfree
Everytime, Britney Spears
Don't Leave Home, Dido
Dirrty, Christina Aguilera
Plane, Jason Mraz
Not Ready to Make Nice, Dixie Chicks
Unwell, Matchbox Twenty
We Kiss in a Shadow, Gay Men's Chorus of DC
As Long as You're Mine, Wicked
Collide, Howie Day
Defying Gravity, Wicked
Get Me Bodied, Beyonce
Put Your Records On, Corinne Bailey Rae
Over the Rainbow, Jane Monheit
Light in Your Eyes, Blessed Union of Souls
Kiss Me, Six Pence None the Richer
Vuoi ballare con me?, Cesare Cremonini
Comments:
Beyonce: comforting *snap, mmhmm dammmmmnn girl*
Dixie Chicks: good for angry days
Jessica Simpson: excellent for … um … uh … like, was I talking? Oh it's not chicken?
Howie Day: great for pensive days
Six Pence: so cute for romantic days … and commentary for drag queens (you wear those shoes and I will wear a dress)
Wicked: inspiration to defy gravity on the days when everything seems to be pulling you down from flying
Corinne Bailey Rae: for tranquil days … and for schizophrenics who listen to consoling 3 little birds
Irreplaceable, Beyonce
Angels, Jessica Simpson
A Public Affair, Jessica Simpson
All You Wanted, Michelle Branch
Life is a Highway, Rascal Flatts
Cleptomania, Sugarfree
Everytime, Britney Spears
Don't Leave Home, Dido
Dirrty, Christina Aguilera
Plane, Jason Mraz
Not Ready to Make Nice, Dixie Chicks
Unwell, Matchbox Twenty
We Kiss in a Shadow, Gay Men's Chorus of DC
As Long as You're Mine, Wicked
Collide, Howie Day
Defying Gravity, Wicked
Get Me Bodied, Beyonce
Put Your Records On, Corinne Bailey Rae
Over the Rainbow, Jane Monheit
Light in Your Eyes, Blessed Union of Souls
Kiss Me, Six Pence None the Richer
Vuoi ballare con me?, Cesare Cremonini
Comments:
Beyonce: comforting *snap, mmhmm dammmmmnn girl*
Dixie Chicks: good for angry days
Jessica Simpson: excellent for … um … uh … like, was I talking? Oh it's not chicken?
Howie Day: great for pensive days
Six Pence: so cute for romantic days … and commentary for drag queens (you wear those shoes and I will wear a dress)
Wicked: inspiration to defy gravity on the days when everything seems to be pulling you down from flying
Corinne Bailey Rae: for tranquil days … and for schizophrenics who listen to consoling 3 little birds
Monday, January 1, 2007
High & Low, 2006
2006 was crazy! My longest year yet, I believe. How do 365 days go by in such a flurry of drama, emotion, and … alright, even more drama. It was the best of times; it was the worst of times … but god bless us, everyone (sorry, had a Dickens moment ((or two? *wink*)) ).
High: hmm … there's a lot to choose from. Some great times with friends: chatting, laughing. A trip back to Italy. A lot of life lessons, and a lot of smiling. Really amazing people who were always there for me (cue audience "awww" …), and, most importantly, finding what I had been looking for: some friggin' positivism.
Low: hmm … my first "C" in school, and some undesired relationship drama (cue audience "booo" and hurling of fruit … "aim for the gonads!").
And here are some life lessons learned along the road from a wanna-be epistemological thinker; nothing particularly brilliant or amazingly novel, but surprisingly insightful and enormously helpful to me along the way:
-people do what they can
-people don't intentionally hurt me
-kindness can be found in the most unusual of places
-be selfish and unselfish as needed
-appreciate what people CAN do
-open up, be vulnerable, take chances with feelings
-be more curious about others
-pain is normal, pain is healthy
-don't detach when expectations aren't met
-have hope, inspire change, ask for what you need
-let go of anger; it's there to protect you from pain, but will only hold you back from growing
-don't judge: people are doing what they need to survive
-don't judge: people are doing what they think is right
Predictions for 2007? Promises for a better me? A renaissance, I suppose …
The process of a rebirth: my water has broken (some tears), contractions have come and gone (pain, aggravation, and a promise never to let another man touch me again … ok, who am I kidding?), reassurance from friends and strangers alike (while being exposed … figuratively!), and one final push: for happiness, for calmness, and for love.
High: hmm … there's a lot to choose from. Some great times with friends: chatting, laughing. A trip back to Italy. A lot of life lessons, and a lot of smiling. Really amazing people who were always there for me (cue audience "awww" …), and, most importantly, finding what I had been looking for: some friggin' positivism.
Low: hmm … my first "C" in school, and some undesired relationship drama (cue audience "booo" and hurling of fruit … "aim for the gonads!").
And here are some life lessons learned along the road from a wanna-be epistemological thinker; nothing particularly brilliant or amazingly novel, but surprisingly insightful and enormously helpful to me along the way:
-people do what they can
-people don't intentionally hurt me
-kindness can be found in the most unusual of places
-be selfish and unselfish as needed
-appreciate what people CAN do
-open up, be vulnerable, take chances with feelings
-be more curious about others
-pain is normal, pain is healthy
-don't detach when expectations aren't met
-have hope, inspire change, ask for what you need
-let go of anger; it's there to protect you from pain, but will only hold you back from growing
-don't judge: people are doing what they need to survive
-don't judge: people are doing what they think is right
Predictions for 2007? Promises for a better me? A renaissance, I suppose …
The process of a rebirth: my water has broken (some tears), contractions have come and gone (pain, aggravation, and a promise never to let another man touch me again … ok, who am I kidding?), reassurance from friends and strangers alike (while being exposed … figuratively!), and one final push: for happiness, for calmness, and for love.
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