briefs

while editing my strip-club post to spell salma hayek's name correctly, i discovered that she+i have the same birthday. and while i'm sure you can google the alluring salma yourself, the thought made me want to provide the opportunity to appreciate another beauty (nb: the first 4 pictures aren't my favourites so i sincerely suggest that you scroll down and see them all; no nudity)- i'm torn between wanting her and wanting to be her. she's my current inspiration to regain my currently-hibernating former body.*

australia has the widest raisin-esque selection i've ever seen in a grocery. i expect to see that kinda thing in a gourmet food store, but in oz, every small grocery has such an array of different types. you can buy boxes of sultanas the way you'd buy raisins for a packed lunch, there's types of raisins i've never heard of, currants, everything that makes you think of a raisin. i loved it- it was like the inuit having 12 different words for snow.
however, australia had the poorest quality toilet paper i ever experienced, and in every full bathroom we saw that had a tub, the bathtub and shower stall were 2 separate units, usually not even abutting each other. very weird, and it seems, inefficient.
they also had a serious fly problem while we were there, which we were told had never happened before- i grew to seriously appreciate why a ponytail is thusly named, as i used mine liberally in an attempt to keep the swarms of flies away when we were out because flies (and roaches+rats) gross me out. but now i'm really curious to see if they do any research and find out what brought on the 4th plague in oz.

i know it may seem horrible, but sometimes i wish very rich people would get sick more often, so that they'd help fund research more often.

to confirm that i'm a horrible person, here my new favourite joke:
what's the opposite of christopher reeves?

christopher walken.

i may have said this before, but: i've always loved the concept of parallel universes, but the phrase seems a little oxymoronic- if they are multiple (as the word 'parallel' implies) i feel like we should consider the multiverse.

another possible repeat-thought: why is literature obsessed with dancing bears?

now that i've admitted i'm a horrible person: when we were young, and the gremlin went through a phase of not wanting her hair combed, i told her that if she didn't brush her hair religiously, 3 times a day, it would stop growing outward and would start to recede through her skin and into her skull, and once her roots reached back into her brain cavity they would keep growing in and erode her brain until it was nothing but dust that would fall out her ears while she slept, then with no brain left and only recessed hair, her head would deflate.
i also told zed that if she put her arm-band floats on her ankles instead she could walk on the water like jesus. she believed me, and stepped off the edge of the pool so trustingly that when she flipped upside-down i was too intrigued by her faith to realise she was about to be drowning.
a parent helped her out.
she's cool now.
you may be able to tell that until we grew up and she got cool, i'd really wanted a dog, not a sibling. now i realise a dog wouldn'ta been nearly as much fun.

walk good.

*the relevant portion of this post has been excerpted and added to the abovementioned+linked "strip-club post", so you may see some of this post elsewhere on this blog.

flash fiction friday, barely before deadline

i cut this one close, so i don't have time to explain much, except to big up jj for setting it all up, and to say that i make no promises since this was a little hurried...

There was someting a little bit quiet…
back arrow, back arrow back arrow, again, a few more times, insert h...something! there was something a little bit quiet…
why the hell didn’t i learn to type?
but i know why. because no self-respecting man should type – he has a secretary for that. specifically, a secretary in a short, tight skirt and a cleavage-baring shirt.
so i suffer, sans secretary, keyboard challenged, unpublished. let the pity-party begin.
after all, how many people set out to rewrite an entire 700-page novel before even getting feedback on it? how many are blessed, or cursed, with the ability to know immediately upon reading his own work, exactly what it needs to be perfect?
i pick and peck at these keys, in my labour of love, knowing that each letter is another step towards my imminent success, but goddamn it! where the hell is a sexytary when you need one!
alright. fine.
so.
there was something a little bit quiet in the air that night.
a little bit quiet? is that too many qualifiers?
no. it’s what i want to say here.
but is that the way to start this masterpiece, with not utter silence, but a little bit of quiet? but then, a little bit of quiet is different from a little bit quiet…
shit.
ok. there was something quiet in the air that night.
quiet? or still? maybe 'still' is the atmosphere it needs. still might be a better word…has more depth…but quiet is much more unassuming. is unassuming what i want, at the beginning of my trajectory to stardom? well, maybe stardom isn’t quite what authors end up with, but acclaim, certainly.
there was something still…
there was something still in the air.
there was something still in the corner of the room.
what the hell is that in the corner? why’s it so dark over there? it doesn’t just look like a lack of light, it looks like there’s something very dark placed there, absorbing light and casting a shadow…maybe i should check it out.
come on now. don’t be dumb. it’s just the very convincing words on the screen in front of me. there’s nothing in the corner but what i put there.
so, what would i like to put there? should i even be putting something there?
there was something still, but stirring ever so slightly in the corner…
what the hell is that, sucking up all the light in the corner? i swear there’s nothing over there, and it’s not that dark in this room…i should check it out, make sure nothing’s been misplaced, after all, why should i believe they respect my wishes about staying out of this room…
after this paragraph i’ll go see.
there was something still, but stirring ever so slightly in the corner. at first glance it was nothing, but a steadier gaze revealed movement…
alright, it’s driving me crazy. i have to see what’s over there, or i’ll never get anything done. goddamn it, why can’t they just listen when i say don’t come in here and don’t interfere?! are they intent on sabotaging a masterpiece?
alright. i’m going over there.
shit. is there something moving? what the…
nah.
ok.
maybe i don’t want to go over there. whatever’s in the corner can wait until tomorrow morning, right?
right.
what the…
this is silly now. i’ll just go and put this to rest. there’s nothing in that corner, especially not anything that could move independently. i'll go look, then my mind can focus on the matter at hand.
but why is that…
what the…
this can’t be happening.
this is not happening.
there is nothing in the corner.
there is nothing moving in the corner.
there is nothing coming towards me from the corner.
there is nothing large and menacing coming towards me from the corner.
there is nothing com

walk good.

short notes on previous themes

speaking of things aussie, my previous post mentioned the lack of ethnic mixing in oz, which reminded me that i meant (late last year) to big up michael kim for being the 1st asian sportscaster i've seen on tv. i won't pretend to know anything else about him, or where and when i saw him- all i know is that i jotted a note to self about it @ the time.
and the other thing that post (unforgiveably) forgot to say, was that the aussie ballerina-cum-stripper really won my respect and admiration when she jumped up onto the pole, wrapped her legs around it and released her upper body into a back-bend so that she was basically hanging upside down, then released one leg, and while holding herself up there with a thigh, proceeded to remove her clothing, then slowly twirl her way down the pole to a graceful dismount on ground level- like i said, her ballet training showed.*

and a nod to my recently-ended piratical theme...

and a final note before i wrap this mercifully short post (i'ma try not to be so long-winded now that i feel caught up): if anybody reading has a copy of the iliad i could borrow, i'd be much obliged- i have homer's odyssey and derek walcott's odyssey, so i'd love to read the iliad, homer's odyssey, then walcott's, in that order...
walk good.

ps: i notice that blogger is once again fucking with my text. i have tried to fix this "xxl" problem, to no avail. blogger, i appreciate thy freeness, but nonetheless curse thy name!
pps: as soon as i published the above "ps", the text-enlargening was miraculously cured, in spite of the failure of my attempts to do just that, prior to adding the damn "ps"!

*the relevant portion of this post has been excerpted and added to the abovementioned+linked "previous post", so you may see some of this post elsewhere on this blog.

strippers+legos.

me+grims revisited the royal palace.
i am a woman who loves men- love how they look, smell, taste, love those who think and those who do, and i believe the men who love me have always been amply rewarded.
however, i also love women. women are beautiful- smooth and soft and curvy and sexy in a way that men cannot be. but i am actually pickier about women than i am about men.
that said, as picky as i am about women, i rarely meet a stripper i can't find something in to like. it's partly out of respect for what they do- a good dancer is an amazing and entrancing sight, as is any straight-up sexy woman, like the 1st time i saw honey work a pole, or saw mercedes wine, or saw salma hayek* just be. thus, i like strip clubs because you can't beat naked chicks who can move their lovely naked bodies well, and i tip well because you really, really can't beat sliding your hand along a smooth and sexy thigh to give some hard-wukkin woman what she deserves for her time, effort, and pole-tricks.
when we were still in school, i used to buff nico for always finding his ass in trouble for being in love because he's the kinda man who could always find the loveable thing about any woman (regardless of my insistence to the contrary), and thus always was simultaneously in love with more girls than were his fair share, leading to much drama- but i finally understand, nico. women are simply amazing creatures, and who could settle on just one?
me+grims hadn't been to the palace in ages and heard there was some new talent, so we went late afternoon to catch the end of the day shift and changeover to night shift, in an attempt to catch as many of the new girls and old favourites as possible. and lemme tell you, it was a wonderful evening. we were thrilled to see mercedes, alexi, and briefly, sexy (who i had to buff for being so late for night-shift that she was coming as we were leaving). sadly, jake, the manchick was still there and we had to practice some avoidance, and i missed the amazing honey-on-the-pole. angel, selena, sasha, tatiana, and nicolette, who i'd always thought were nice but didn't absolutely captivate me like the aforementioned 3, wowed me- the girls have used their holidays wisely and returned with new shit- classier outfits, tighter bodies, new tricks...
the new girls were good too, so overall, the quality of royal palace has really improved, and it's always been a user-friendly place...
there was one new girl who'll take time- she looked like she's still in college (tall, slender white chick with a 19-year-old face+body) and took a class to learn all the right moves, but is still counting them out to the music in her head, and isn't comfortable with eye contact yet. but she has promise. the new brazilians, leah and penelope, were also lovely. leah's a thicker girl, but i consider that a good thing, and if you don't, penelope's more of a penelope cruz type- both should smile more though, their faces really light up when they do.
but the star of the new girls is definitely china. damn!
tall, nice ass+boobs (all real, of course), built to last with legs that could snap your neck, moves like a star, star attitude onstage, then completely sweet on the floor. we're huge fans. china's a welcome addition, and my almost-menage with her and lexi, and brief time spent with her and mercedes made my week. and naturally, grims is happy.
which brings us back to oz. of course, we couldn't go all the way there and not check out a strip club.
we went to one in sydney with an unmemorable name that included the word 'platinum'. now, the lame part is that since just about everybody in oz is aboriginal, white or asian, but there's not that much mixing of ethnicities (some in sydney+melbourne, but not much elsewhere, and not much there either in comparison with what i'm used to) there's very little variety among strippers, which i dislike. it seems that you have to go to a white strip club or an asian one, but stupidly can't have both in one club (i'd like to remind everyone that i admit to limited experience). and of course, we couldn't find an asian club. and barbie is not my style. but it was an experience.
by the end of the night in oz, i managed to like 3 of the barbies, one because she had real boobs, had obviously taken ballet for a long time and used her training to her advantage** and seemed to genuinely enjoy dancing, another because she had real boobs and an attitude that reminded me of sexy from the palace, and the 3rd because she had real boobs and came right up to us, looked in my eyes and proceeded to spend the next few minutes dancing exclusively for my benefit, never even glancing @ grims or anybody else, maintaining eye contact with me the whole time and not dancing that way for anybody else between eye-fucking me and leaving the club. momentarily disconcerting was the fact that her name is the same as zed's, and who wants to think of their sister in that situation, but her "x" pendant suggested that she spells it differently, plus it's prob'ly not her real name anyway, and after the 1st 2 minutes of her focussing her entire being on me so intensely, i forgot her name anyway...
what i hated though, was that the club had a $20 cover (which you know the girls won't get a cut of, so i think it's bullshit) as well as the standard expensive drinks (drinks are generally more expensive in oz, even with the exchange rate benefit), but it also made you buy 'tipping dollars' to give the dancers- shitty because they're larger than real bills, and laminated, so they seem very uncomfortable when slid under a garter, plus, the club charges you $2 for every $20 worth of 'tipping dollars', which is a fuckery when it's their petarded policy to have them in the 1st place, and again, you know the girls don't get a cut! it's the least thrilling tipping of strippers ever.
we surmised that the tipping dollars were because australia's smallest bill is a $5 (they have beautiful bills, but do coins for $1 and $2) and the club's trying to be considerate of the fact that one may not want to tip in multiples of 5, which would make it excusable. but when we asked grims' aussie in-law, he said that other strip clubs don't do tipping dollars and you just have to be willing to tip in fives (or more, i assume) which made me more pissed off at that fucking club- making things petarded, then charging me extra for their petarded bullshit, and making it like trying to tip strippers with legos, all for no apparent good reason.
it was good to be back @ the palace...
walk good.

this post has been appended (below) to include relevant details from subsequent, related posts:
*while editing to spell salma hayek's name correctly, i discovered that she+i have the same birthday. and while i'm sure you can google the alluring salma yourself, the thought made me want to provide the opportunity to appreciate another beauty (n.b.: the first 4 pictures aren't my favourites so i sincerely suggest that you scroll down and see them all; no nudity)- i'm torn between wanting her and wanting to be her. she's my current inspiration to regain my currently-hibernating former body- excerpted from later post briefs.
**and the thing this post (unforgiveably) forgot to say, was that the aussie ballerina-cum-stripper really won my respect and admiration when she jumped up onto the pole, wrapped her legs around it and released her upper body into a back-bend so that she was basically hanging upside down, then released one leg, and while holding herself up there with a thigh, proceeded to remove her clothing, then slowly twirl her way down the pole to a graceful dismount on ground level- like i said, her ballet training showed- excerpted from later post short notes on previous themes.

oz: food+drink.

and thus begins the 1st australia post (there may only be one in the end, but just in case...):
we ate like royalty in oz- enough that the jeans i wore to travel there were noticeably more snug on the flight back. when i put them on, i actually had a moment of fear that i'd have to run out and buy new pants before going to the airport...
but before we talk food, lemme mention our visit to the kamberra winery- delightful. before we got to oz, we talked about touring wine country, but of course, didn't have time. we had a little time while in canberra, and saw that this one was walking distance from the house, so with relatively low expectations (it wasn't one we'd heard/read of), we decided to check it out.
we got there the 1st time and were told we'd missed it (11am daily tour) and left sadly. we ventured back the following morning, only to be told there was no tour happening, but we could do a tasting, and we were already there, so, free drinks!
the fabulous laurie turmbull took excellent care of us, and confided we weren't missing much since the tour's only really interesting during harvest, which it currently wasn't.
the fabulous laurie turmbull- who is apparently (according to a coworker) too fabulous for his own good, and describes himself as the male equivalent of elle mcpherson (and yes, he's been told that in many countries "laurie" is strictly a girls' name, and replies, "fuck that")- did a beautiful job of explaining the company's 2 lines (which we tasted all of): "meeting place" are their drink-now wines, since "canberra" is the aboriginal word for "meeting place" (hence, the aussie capital, canberra) while the "kamberra" wines are the ones you buy to sit on before enjoying (not literally, unless you're planning the kind of enjoyment that involves leaving the bottle corked and sealed for insertion). they have some lovely (and affordable) stuff, which we brought back with us- good gewurtzaminer, amazing botrytis semillion, and the best port we've ever had, bar none- although i just noticed that my 3 favourites aren't actually on the site i provided the link to, and now remember the fabulous laurie turmbull saying that the ones i loved could only be bought there, @ the winery...sorry. but their other wines were also good- as someone who likes few chardonnays, i was pleasantly surprised by theirs, and enjoyed being introduced to their viognier as well.
the fabulous laurie turmbull made our tasting a good time with good company, and, of course, very good wine.

and now, i'd like to mention a minor item, that brought me much joy nonetheless: we had sushi for lunch @ a highly recommended spot that was amazingly good, especially considering that it was in a shopping-plaza-foodcourt. the oonagi was so good that it transported me to fine japanese dining. but the silly little thrill was that since it's a foodcourt where you take your tray to a table and there's no "service" once $ is exchanged, they give you soy sauce and wasabi packets with your sushi. but these are no ordinary soy sauce packets like you get in the usa- these were little plastic 3d fish with red screwcaps at the tips of their mouths, filled with soy sauce. lemme tell you, those little fish-containers were the cutest, and they were firm plastic, not the kind used in usa-soy-packs that flattens- these tiny fish hold their fishy shape. so i'm the petard (thank you mr.shakespeare) who had to bring back 2 50-cent-sized-fishes of soy sauce. that's the kinda touch that removes the word "foodcourt" from the memory.
the other excellent meals we ate were in sydney, @ zaaffran, quay, and aria. we also had very good food @ melbourne's hairy canary and i highly recommend it. but i must rave about zaaffran- being partly raised on indian food, i have high expectations and am easily disappointed, because i'm spoiled. but zaaffran was edible heaven, from my taj mahal cocktail to the rose+cardamom creme brulee dessert. the food was exquisite and rich, but not too heavy (seafood sampler, seafood curry, murgh makhani- the linked menu's a beautiful thing) and, as a pleasant side note, the zaaffran homepage actually shows the table we sat @ and its wonderful view.
quay, in sydney harbor's circular quay was our 1st meal there. we were warned of the expense and encouraged to discover how worth it the experience would be. and it was. unbelievable: suckling pig braised pressed, then roasted...slow cooked glenroth squab breasts...flight of dessert wines- i was so drunk when we dragged our bellies back to hotel (n.b.- the "entree" is the starter on aussie menus).
aria was our last dinner in sydney, and it was also an incredible dining experience- double cooked bangalow sweet pork belly, oysters, pan seared pork loin, rolled saddle of lamb, aged beef fillet, mango+raspberry souffle...
i originally planned to describe the bevy of wondrous flavours, but find that i do not have the vocabulary, and if you know me, you know that's quite an achievement, for anything to render me incapable of description- hence the links to menus that will speak for themselves.
we won't discuss how much was spent on all this delectable food+wine (i would say more about the wine but we tried something different @ every opportunity, and in 3weeks, that's a lotta fuckin' wine!), but if you ever there, i strongly suggest that you try as many of the restaurants mentioned here as your $ permits. and if you can only do one, zaaffran is the natural choice if you like indian food, and quay and aria could be interchangeable if necessary. hairy canary in melbourne is a funky breakfast/lunch/drinks place, and is thus very affordable.
one last note before i wrap this too-long post: service in oz is the worst. it's not a tipping culture, and waitstaff earn $15+/hour, so there's no motivation for them to provide service. the only places we had good service were hairy canary and quay, but @ the other places we ate, the food more than compensated for the lack. just be prepared to spend some time waiting around for everything, and trust that i took the poor service into account when i raved about these restaurants, which should reinforce how good the food was...
more later.
walk good. eat like you gonna die tomorrow.

catching up, at last...

so today i can finally blog with impunity.
the new machine is now acting like one, and hopefully shall never need to be spoken of again, as the point of its existence is to silently make the things i enjoy doing with my time easier.

so i feel like the pre-christmas-gremlin-visit is old news at this point, but would like to recap (it's only a recap for me because i wrote several posts about it, that were simply eaten by the old machine) so here are the highlights:
she had to shop, so we decided to get that shit outta the way the very first day. it took us 3 tries to actually ride the bus to union station- first, we were about to board it and realised she had no bus fare, then after waiting 25minutes for the next bus (of course) we got on it, and got about 2blocks down my street before she remembered the $ she needed to change to shop with was back @ the house. so we had to get off and walk back to get it. we spent over an hour just getting to the bank so she could shop, and the time spent on my gallery waiting for each of the 3 buses was completed by the dudes sitting in their black suv, trying to talk to us across the street, not realising that the fact that they were sitting in a parked vehicle as a way to pass their time immediately rendered us out of their league.
when we finally got to pentagon city, every item on her list required us to shop for it twice, as the apple store, shoe stores, et al, were all worthless, plus, we were accosted by the cruella de ville of the food court, who insisted that some spilled sweet-drink had to be cleaned up so immediately that we had to pick up our full trays and find another table.
we also spent the entire shopping expedition answering the question "so, where you from?", asked repeatedly by random men, who, like those sitting in their suv earlier, somehow couldn't tell they had no chance in hell.
later, when we went to buy the yarn needed for zed to make hats for me+grims (one can't be a domestic goddess without knowing how to knit) i managed to lose my one of my gloves (but not my sense of irony) that the hat was intended to match, then the gremlin, planning to knit on the train to+from ny, managed to grab mismatched needles and shocked fellow amtrak passengers with her colourful response to the discovery that she had no way to while away the ride- thus, she will be mailing grims his hat, although she managed to finish a stellar piece for me before she left- i originally wanted ear-flaps because my ears freeze and i end up with horrible headaches, but she took it a step further and made the ears long enough to wrap around my neck, since i lose scarves regularly. so this hat/scarf is not only very fetching, but perhaps one of the most functional garments i own.
thus, i must big up the gremlin because aesthetic pleasure+functionality=art.
now, in spite of being noticeably hot (as dancers are) and absolutely deserving of the aforementioned big-up, to my amusement, the gremlin managed to slip and find herself catspraddle in the road in front of a wendy's, just as she was saying that the grips on her high-heeled-boots (which i'd earlier said she had to have been wearing for style and not function in the sleet+snow we were experiencing that evening) were so good. i assume it was murphy's response to her audacity in suggesting that her footwear was in any way appropriate for the weather, because the fall punctuated the end of her statement brilliantly, with her large handbag (also ponged earlier by yours truly) helping to break it.
but even worse, while we were in said wendy's, i managed to completely buss poor zed's files to mummy! since the details are (i now know) to remain quiet, i cannot say exactly which cat was released from which bag, but sufficeth to say that since i knew mummy knew the man in question, i assumed she also knew the true situation and its accompanying drama, and made a comment which sold out the gremlin. then, in a foolish attempt to salvage the situation, i tried to defend the gremlin's drama with other (previously) unrevealed information.
i was the worst, and have no defence, except to suggest that my mind was still recovering from the previous extended hysteria, due to zed's following her fall outside the wendy's by losing her 2nd drink of the trip (see foodcourt-cruella-de-ville, above) all over the counter and floor.
aside from our general amusement and misadventures, me+zed also spent an afternoon with an old friend, since malau was in town (and has a fabulous mohawk)- a good finale to a good visit.

wow. i think now i can blog about the trip to oz...
walk good.

fack!

alright. i'ma stop promising to post "for real...as soon as the new machine cookin' with gas". because i might cry.
lemme just work until i solve it, and i'ma be back.
walk good.

a first and new...

dudes! first post from the brand new machine.
sorry i been m.i.a. but the old machine was really killing me, and the few times it actually worked i was completely enveloped by the previously mentioned, recently sidebarred defective yeti.
proper posting resumes tomorrow- right now i'm in the middle of a massive 3-computer file-transfer.
walk good.

zork?

most people seem to have played zork, but i think i played the adventure one, or maybe enchanted cave, or something similarly named...
regardless, you'll get it when you get there.
this is some text you should experience, courtesy defective yeti, also on the sidebar near you.
walk good.

what the...

i think blogger's on crack- at least, i assume it's them because i'm pretty sure it's not me.
last night's quiz-post gave endless trouble to finesse, and i ended up trimming the html code to something i could manage tweaking solo. but even after that, i had to go back and add a postscript because the damn post-title wouldn't show up, and the date would only come up intermittently.
i hoped that when i posted next, it would help sort out the problems @ the top of my page, but now, the post i just completed won't come up automatically- when it loads, there's a blank space where it should be, but if i scroll down past it, then scroll back up, the text magically appears. however, i just finally saw half (vertically, not 1 or 2 words of the 3-word phrase) of the title of yesterday's quiz-post for the 1st time, but still, each time the page's done loading, i have a hole @ the top. is that the trade off for having the previous title publish along with it's post?
people have oft complained about blogger, and in a little over a year they've only given me trouble twice, and both times the text was there and readable, just not formatted to my desired aesthetic. meanwhile, as i check up in another window, the previous post that wouldn't fully load seems to be fine now, but the title of the one prior to it is gone again...sigh.
we'll see what blogger does now...
walk good.

when it rains...

now that i've ordered the new machine and got my catching up done (except unpacking, which i'll take care of today because, yes, i recognise that still living out of a suitcase when i've been back for a week is absurd) whenever my machine actually works, i can blog, especially since i can't work on my book because my word has crashed...
but this post is to big-up whitey for providing us with this better-than-i've-been-able-to-word-it-thus-far explanation of why i don't celebrate my b'day or know how old i am (yes, i know the date on which i was born, so if it's ever important, some basic math easily provides an answer), largely consider holiday traditions to be time wasted on needless fuss in spite of thoroughly enjoying any and all holidays (which only count if there's days off involved- valentine's and all that shit is exactly that), and don't really do gifts for occassions, but never ignore the perfect one calling out the name of the friend it's destined for as i walk by it...
anyway. check out the link and you'll understand. he speaks my mind.
walk good.

apparently, i am:

the Wit (76% dark, 38% spontaneous, 21% vulgar)

your humor style: CLEAN COMPLEX DARK You like things edgy, subtle, and smart. I guess that means you're probably an intellectual, but don't take that to mean pretentious. You realize 'dumb' can be witty--after all isn't that the Simpsons' philosophy?--but rudeness for its own sake, 'gross-out' humor and most other things found in a fraternity leave you totally flat. I guess you just have a more cerebral approach than most. You have the perfect mindset for a joke writer or staff writer. Your sense of humor takes the most thought to appreciate, but it's also the best, in my opinion. You probably loved the Office. If you don't know what I'm talking about, check it out here: http://www.bbc.co.uk/comedy/theoffice/. PEOPLE LIKE YOU: Jon Stewart - Woody Allen - Ricky Gervais The 3-Variable Funny Test! - it rules -

n.b.: whenever i do one of these things with html code to cut+paste results to the blog, somehow the code never makes it all over here intact and i have to go through and try to fix stuff i don't really understand, based on what the stuff that shows up correctly looks like in html code. i can usually manage, but this one was unfixable with my limited knowledge, so instead i had to cut stuff i couldn't import successfully- so the diagram is missing, among some other minor stuff, but if you use the link to take the quiz, you can see it all yourself...sorry.
big-up dana for sending me this one, though.
walk good.
ps: for some reason, the title of this post won't come up when i publish (this one's been trouble all-round) and although it may not matter much, i'm a little anal about these things, so in case it never shows up, the top of this should say "apparently, i am: "

the sun'll come out...

i feel better.
broker, but better. new machine ordered and should be here around february 1. hopefully.
and the 1st shakespeare gig after 3weeks off with the hunt for a new computer having occupied the time i'd hoped to use to refresh my lines, went ok.
now i'm breathing again and have happily relinquished grims' computer, prepared to accept and simply deal with the fact that my current machine may shut itself off at the worst possible moments, because the new one will be here in less than 2weeks. and i been thinking that i should stop bitching because being a dual-laptop household is technically a luxury. it just worries the hell outta me to be down 1 machine because we both freelance, and i, especially, conduct a lot of work-related communication via email, without the opportunity to go to the office and make sure we all on the same page.
i'ma shut the fuck up about that soon-to-be-remedied, minor inconvenience.

i don't know how many (few?) of you know the product milo "energy food drink" that i grew up enjoying- more often than not, spooning it dry from the tin into my mouth (it's like ovaltine but with larger, chunkier, crunchier, and infinitely more excitingly-textured crystals, although you can also buy it pre-mixed liquid, boxed-with-accordion-necked-straw-on-the-side) when my mother wasn't home, or sometimes from a bowl, mixed with dirty brown sugar or sweetened condensed milk- but if for no other reason, australia is worthy of recognition for having not just the energy-drink-mix-in-a-can, but also a malted milo-drink-mix version (red can, reminiscent of the red- or green-wrapped, regular or mint-flavoured catch), milo cereal, milo pudding, milo ice-cream (praise-ed be the bountiful milo gods), and milo bars, which are basically delightful, long sticks (about twix length but milky way girth, unless those're actually the same length and my altered brain is leading me astray, enthralled by last night's 12.02am computer solution) of compressed milo, dipped in chocolate. milo ice-cream and milo bars are heaven-sent. i plan to contact nestle t+t to rigourously question their denial of the trinbagonian public's fundamental right to these other valuable milo products.
for those who've never had it, i don't really share my milo unless i'm somewhere it's readily available. in which circumstance, you can go get your own.

i finally finished moby dick in oz. there was no need. i'm sure i've said this before, but i'll say it again, in the spirit of the book of which i speak: i'm long-winded. so when i tell you herman melville needed an editor, you know i not playing.
damn, man.
but on a related and funner note, i found out by accident on our first day in oz- we went from d.c. to l.a. to the melbourne airport to the rented apartment (just a block off batman avenue, on which i, naturally, got a picture of myself wearing the batman shirt zed just gave me) dropped off our shit, bathed, and went cricket (australia vs. south africa, to which grims wore his windies cricket shirt, and promptly fell in love with the game, thus resulting in the rest of our 3weeks being punctuated by cricket scores and highlights) and some youths behind us were doing this massive quiz in the newspaper and didn't know within the 1st 3words of a clue that that answer was "james joyce" but got an extra point for my knowing it so fast and thus included us in their knowledge-bank for the rest of the questions- that the artist moby (don't know if it's a given-name) is a direct descendant of herman melville, which made me say a silent "duh!" to myself as soon as they checked the upside-down answer because i'd just been talking about it when i got off the plane since every time i'd tried to read the fucking book in the air i fell into an uncomfortable sleep that never made me feel better in that way that you can't relax even while asleep if you feel you aren't on drooling-level-familiarity with your temporary cohabitants. grrr.
but i finished it, and can now firmly say that i could see potential in what he was trying to do with the whole show-me-don't-tell-me obsession and so-long-searching-for-the-whale vibe, but please, man. i didn't even see the freaking thing until page 500+change of 600-and-a-couple and there was way too much sperm-shit to wade through in getting there. if i wanted the full-on waiting-on-a-whaling ship, i'd go whaling. i mean, i read for the immersion too, but i'd like it to be a somehow interesting ride.
anyway, this has been too long. just that last sentence was too long, so this post must be ridiculous and outta control. i'm just running on as long as the computer'll let me, i'm so excited to be getting somewhere with a post on this dying machine.
walk good.
ps: the shark tank in the darling harbour aquarium was the best! they built a plexiglass(?) tunnel under the water so you walk through and the sharks, rays, and huge turtles (bigger than me) swim over you, and cool their bellies on the glass a couple feet above your head. photos sooncome.

already apologising...

i know i haven't been on the ball since my return from oz, and believe me, i want to be, but in addition to the standard catching up i expected, shopping for a new laptop is killing me. i haven't done it in years, plus, we're post-vacation-broke.
i feel like there's no point in buying a new machine if it's not what i want, because even the "cheap" ones are expensive, and since things become obsolete so fast, i want it to have decent capabilities to at least marginally keep up with future advances. and even so, i'm not looking for a lot in comparison with the options offered, but fuck, this shit is expensive!
so i'm spending my time relearning lines and using grims' machine whenever he isn't to try to buy a new one.
i'll start blogging again once i actually order the computer, but for right now, it's about all i can manage to work through the email backlog, get life jumpstarted again, find a gig, and make sure i'm ready for shakespeare tomorrow morning...
if you're reading this as a friend of mine, or just a good person who likes words, please go visit jj in purgatory because i haven't had time to check in and i need somebody to make sure he's ok...
walk good.

back and fff-ing

i got back from australia yesterday (i think) at some hour that made no sense to my body anyway, and was thinking about taking the rest of the weekend off to deal with jetlag, especially since i wasn't mentally prepared to deal with the pile of festering shit this machine has become, but when i went to look for jj and discovered we'd almost lost him, i had to jump in and show some support. so big-up to the purgatorian for surviving to serve my literary needs (both reading+writing), here's my first flash fiction friday of the year (missed fff#21) and stories of oz sooncome.

The mourners arrived just in time dressed as clowns... as per my last request. i'd been beginning to wonder if an executive decision had been made against their prescence when i wasn't paying attention, and was already smoldering @ the edges, preparing to burn eternally over anybody labelling my wishes too ridiculous for death- especially now that i knew i was right, and they were themselves clueless, ill-prepared, and pooh-poohing the one good idea about handling passing through that they'd ever been privy to.
i'd seen toward the end that the only way to pass through successfully was to face all fear and leave it behind.
hence, the clowns: the only thing that still scared me after all those years.
i didn't know if it was the makeup, the weird music, the too-tiny cars, the outfits, the balloon-squeak, or that "freaks'n'geeks" porno i'd seen while still too young to handle the sight of the clown fucking the midget chick in ballerina costume on the birthday cake for the 400lb guy wearing the diaper+bib...
clowns are fucked up, man...
but i'd had the foresight to amend my will appropriately the day after the revelation about facing fears, and now, they'd sent in the clowns.
not that i'd looked closely yet- still scared, i was delaying inspection and introspection by mulling over the reasons for what i was pretty sure was an irrational fear, then smugly pointing out to myself that if it was indeed irrational, it followed that there was no real reason.
sometimes i was such a prick.
anyway. the time had come. the way i figured it i'd be passing through @ the close of the 3rd day (standard time lapse before rising again), so i'd also specified the service was to be held within 63hours (yes, you can usually book a coupla clowns on such short notice, and failing that, you call professional mourners and just tell them there's a dress code, which i now knew because the incapables i'd left behind had to fall back on the latter option). they'd (of course) pushed the time limit, so i had roughly the next hour to come to grips with the physical manifestation of clowns, then another 3 to contemplate and overcome before time would cease to count.
i scanned the group of wackos, settled on the least alarming one and took inventory- mentally detailing their absurdity could only help me recognise there was nothing to fear. right?
but as i tried to focus, all i could think was, "where's the midget ballerina?".
and that was it.
the more i tried to work through the clown-thing, the more i had the urge to laugh hysterically.
finally, i remembered nobody else could hear me anyway and erupted into a rolling-on-the-floor-it-hurts-but-i-can't-stop belly laugh (except without the actual soreness- or ability to roll on the floor, due to my recent lack of solidity).
i got it.
i finally got the joke.
it's not the clowns, it's clown dick that's funny..."

walk good.

international dateline

after posting (below), when i checked to make sure all was well on the mainpage, grims pointed out that even though it's tuesday where we are, blogger dated me as monday- crossing the international date line's cool...
walk good.

i post from the land down under

i just wanted to be able to sing along in my head as i typed that...
i don't know if anybody's reading me, since you know i'm not really there, but i had the opportunity and wanted to say hi, and explain that after my last under-the-influence posts i really was trying to get the gremlin chronicles up before leaving d.c. but the damn computer would lemme get almost finished, then shut itself off without permission, fucking me and my post. after the 3rd try i gave up, and will be using grims' machine as i can to post between my return to d.c. and the arrival of the new laptop i clearly need to buy (not that i think we can afford it after this trip...)
anyway, australia's excellent and we eating like royalty- i tried my jeans on again (the ones i left d.c. wearing) and they're a little tight, so this last week i have to cut back if i want to be able to fit into my clothes to get on the plane...i don't know if naked travel is frowned upon, or welcomed by the security folks...
apart from eating well, we enjoyed melbourne, bought porn in canberra (apparently, in oz, the capital is where you go for porn, grass, and fireworks), spent a coupla days @ a lovely beachhouse on bateman's bay, and are now taking sydney by storm.
more later.
walk good.