...don't mean to piss you off with things I might say/ but when I try to shut my mouth they come out anyway/ if you spoke your mind you might feel more connected....
I walk into one of my usual haunts. J is talking to J, in the middle of a sentence, but she looks up, nods, smiles to acknowledge me.
"....should've locked the whole place down after the first shots were fired at 7 am. That would've been the thing to do. Cybele agrees with me, don't you, Cybele?"
I shrug.
Meh. Those damn kids prob'ly needed killing.
J and J stare at me, open mouthed, for two whole beats.
And then simultaneously burst into laughter.
Such is my world.
(Politically Correct; SR-71)
19 April, 2007
17 April, 2007
Deliberate Haze
...their eloquence escapes me/ their logic ties me up and rapes me....
I was told by a third party that he claims to be the father of my second child. Well, until it was evident that she was a terror, and at that point he was happy to renounce her.
Why would you start a rumor like that?
"I never!"
She said that you did, you started the rumor. And I wondered what purpose it served, how saying that would benefit you.
"I didn't! I never said I was the father of your child!"
Hm.
I sip my beer, gaze at him. Herb begins to squirm.
Chin goes up, and eyebrows. Head tilted to one side, just slightly. Beer glass rotates slowly on bar top.
"I, I, I, well, I may have said, said something to the EFFECT, of, of, but I never..."
The eyebrows ratchet another notch.
"Okay. What I SAID was, and this is totally true, was that I was living with you for awhile, and your husband kind of wasn't, and nine months later you had a baby. Which was true."
Agreed. All but the 'kind of wasn't', except, no, I guess that was when he was travelling with the IT job he had at the time. So while Herb's responsible for a certain level of culpability in regards to the rumor mill, to himself he can pretend complete innocence.
Later, we argue about what qualifies as an adverb.
Later still, he e-mails me with a definition to prove his point.
Geek.
(Hello, pot? This is the kettle.)
A giant banner grabs my attention:
and then, in smaller letters,
Know Where You Stand.
It's good to be aware that you're nearest the blue targets, in case you need to walk around and pet all the yellow ones first.
You'd think that the folk writing for billboards, or the folk paying for writing on billboards, would realize that a message has fewer than five seconds to imprint upon the viewer, and would tailor messages for maximum clarity. Two words in a row that function both as nouns and verbs (and why can I not find a word for that?)is a mistake anywhere but comedy; e.g.:
(De Do Do Do De Da Da Da; The Police)
I was told by a third party that he claims to be the father of my second child. Well, until it was evident that she was a terror, and at that point he was happy to renounce her.
Why would you start a rumor like that?
"I never!"
She said that you did, you started the rumor. And I wondered what purpose it served, how saying that would benefit you.
"I didn't! I never said I was the father of your child!"
Hm.
I sip my beer, gaze at him. Herb begins to squirm.
Chin goes up, and eyebrows. Head tilted to one side, just slightly. Beer glass rotates slowly on bar top.
"I, I, I, well, I may have said, said something to the EFFECT, of, of, but I never..."
The eyebrows ratchet another notch.
"Okay. What I SAID was, and this is totally true, was that I was living with you for awhile, and your husband kind of wasn't, and nine months later you had a baby. Which was true."
Agreed. All but the 'kind of wasn't', except, no, I guess that was when he was travelling with the IT job he had at the time. So while Herb's responsible for a certain level of culpability in regards to the rumor mill, to himself he can pretend complete innocence.
Later, we argue about what qualifies as an adverb.
Later still, he e-mails me with a definition to prove his point.
Geek.
(Hello, pot? This is the kettle.)
A giant banner grabs my attention:
Stroke Targets By Color
and then, in smaller letters,
Know Where You Stand.
It's good to be aware that you're nearest the blue targets, in case you need to walk around and pet all the yellow ones first.
You'd think that the folk writing for billboards, or the folk paying for writing on billboards, would realize that a message has fewer than five seconds to imprint upon the viewer, and would tailor messages for maximum clarity. Two words in a row that function both as nouns and verbs (and why can I not find a word for that?)is a mistake anywhere but comedy; e.g.:
Doctor Cuts With Bandages.
(De Do Do Do De Da Da Da; The Police)
14 April, 2007
Party's Here!
...don't wear a frown cuz it's really okay/ and you might try 'n' hide/ and you might try 'n' pray/ but we all end up the remains of the day....
Motion catches the eye: bright balloons tied to the gates of a cemetery, bouncing in April's breezes.
Me, I wonder whose birthday we're celebrating.
(Remains Of The Day; Danny Elfman, from The Corpse Bride)
Motion catches the eye: bright balloons tied to the gates of a cemetery, bouncing in April's breezes.
Me, I wonder whose birthday we're celebrating.
(Remains Of The Day; Danny Elfman, from The Corpse Bride)
11 April, 2007
What Hump?
...lookin' at my lump, lump/ you can look but you can't touch it/ if you touch it I'ma start some drama....
Once upon a time, 'hump' was a noun, used to describe a mound, a tiny hill, a large lump, or the thing on the back of a camel. Or a dromedary. Which is what most people think of when they think of a camel. Yes, that camel you're thinking of? It's actually a dromedary.
I don't know when young attractive humans began to have humps, which were in the past reserved for old crones and hunchbacks, but pretty whatsername seems to be enjoying hers.
I am a self-employed artist, so 'hump day' bears little relevance for me, though I understand the concept. A sign outside a bar advertises "Hump Day Specials", so apparantly 'hump' is now an adjective, as Satur- or Senior Hook are adjectives that modify 'day'.
Some other artists display their works here, in a Washington Post contest that expected only 'a dozen or so' entries. Yes, it's little humps of sugar-covered marshmallow in improbable colors, Ladies and Gentlemen, The Peeps Show!
As the Political Animal points out (WITH a Nixon/Watergate reference, thank you very much!)in today's column, The Post used to publish real news. Now it's all fluff.
From the Well, Duh! Department, this surprisingly late decision by the African medical community.
On the other hand, there's certainly no shortage of humans. Why do anything about AIDS at all? (So says the woman who makes her living pretending to kill and die.)
Emily Flake's cartoon is also ghoulish today, though she makes no reference to a hump of any sort.
I was early on aware of the verb form of the word, which is now so deeply ingrained that whenever I pass a roadside sign emblazoned with the words 'Speed Hump', I take it for a directive- appealing but impractical, as obviously, I'm driving.
And here is all hump, all the time.
In Taro Gomi's fun book, Everyone Poops, the claim is made that "a one- hump camel makes a one-hump poop. A two-hump camel makes a two-hump poop. Just kidding!" Since it's a translation, I don't know whether the original Japanese was 'dromedary', 'camel', or 'fabulous imaginary creature', since I don't know Japanese for any of those words, and neither camels nor dromedaries are native to Japan anyhow.
I also don't know Japanese for 'hump'. In any sense.
(My Humps; Black Eyed Peas)
Once upon a time, 'hump' was a noun, used to describe a mound, a tiny hill, a large lump, or the thing on the back of a camel. Or a dromedary. Which is what most people think of when they think of a camel. Yes, that camel you're thinking of? It's actually a dromedary.
I don't know when young attractive humans began to have humps, which were in the past reserved for old crones and hunchbacks, but pretty whatsername seems to be enjoying hers.
I am a self-employed artist, so 'hump day' bears little relevance for me, though I understand the concept. A sign outside a bar advertises "Hump Day Specials", so apparantly 'hump' is now an adjective, as Satur- or Senior Hook are adjectives that modify 'day'.
Some other artists display their works here, in a Washington Post contest that expected only 'a dozen or so' entries. Yes, it's little humps of sugar-covered marshmallow in improbable colors, Ladies and Gentlemen, The Peeps Show!
As the Political Animal points out (WITH a Nixon/Watergate reference, thank you very much!)in today's column, The Post used to publish real news. Now it's all fluff.
From the Well, Duh! Department, this surprisingly late decision by the African medical community.
On the other hand, there's certainly no shortage of humans. Why do anything about AIDS at all? (So says the woman who makes her living pretending to kill and die.)
Emily Flake's cartoon is also ghoulish today, though she makes no reference to a hump of any sort.
I was early on aware of the verb form of the word, which is now so deeply ingrained that whenever I pass a roadside sign emblazoned with the words 'Speed Hump', I take it for a directive- appealing but impractical, as obviously, I'm driving.
And here is all hump, all the time.
In Taro Gomi's fun book, Everyone Poops, the claim is made that "a one- hump camel makes a one-hump poop. A two-hump camel makes a two-hump poop. Just kidding!" Since it's a translation, I don't know whether the original Japanese was 'dromedary', 'camel', or 'fabulous imaginary creature', since I don't know Japanese for any of those words, and neither camels nor dromedaries are native to Japan anyhow.
I also don't know Japanese for 'hump'. In any sense.
(My Humps; Black Eyed Peas)
10 April, 2007
Silver Lining
...those soft and fuzzy sweaters/ too magical to touch....
The continuing cold enrages me to a fit of shopping: lowcut sweaters to augment outrageous tiny tops that have burst from my closets, demanding to be worn.
Because it is April, the sweaters are on sale.
(.....still waiting for Naked Season.)
(Centerfold; The J. Geils Band)
The continuing cold enrages me to a fit of shopping: lowcut sweaters to augment outrageous tiny tops that have burst from my closets, demanding to be worn.
Because it is April, the sweaters are on sale.
(.....still waiting for Naked Season.)
(Centerfold; The J. Geils Band)
06 April, 2007
HotCross Puns
...left the bathtub running over/ stereo on and cookin' bacon/ never came back to tell us why....
I serve breakfast, fried eggs on matzoh. "Mama, could I have some wine?" Fluffy asks.
You want wine?
He means the pear/grape fruit juice the kids drank at Seder, while Mama, Coco and Muzzy got the good stuff.
"Pleeeeeeeeeeeeeeaaaaaaaase?"
Uhhh. Egad.
"Stop whining!" Fuzzy orders, scowling.
"It was just a yolk."
(Hot Cha; They Might Be Giants)
I serve breakfast, fried eggs on matzoh. "Mama, could I have some wine?" Fluffy asks.
You want wine?
He means the pear/grape fruit juice the kids drank at Seder, while Mama, Coco and Muzzy got the good stuff.
"Pleeeeeeeeeeeeeeaaaaaaaase?"
Uhhh. Egad.
"Stop whining!" Fuzzy orders, scowling.
"It was just a yolk."
(Hot Cha; They Might Be Giants)
04 April, 2007
Bienvenue, Weirdos.
...You're all wrapped up in mystery/ So wild so free and far from me/ You're all I want, my fantasy....
The words 'special females here now' ricochet inside my skull without benefit of punctuation or context. I must have read a sign that registered just after I drove past it, and I wonder: crab house or strip joint? The neighborhood I'm in, it could be either one.
As the sky goes from blood-orange to mango to melon, fades from peach to lemon, the air cools. I turn on the heat to warm my feet, but do not pull up my top. Time enough for that when lemon pales to biscuit and smoke deepens to full dark.
It is past four in the morning when I hear the grumbling of distant thunder, only now realizing why I am still awake.
CrushWorld Irregular Featurette Wednesday Linkage: If you've missed 'em, here they are.
For the three or four of you who haven't heard: Rock Star Discovers Unique Family Closeness.
And, speaking of cremains, ashes of the former James Doohan, formerly Scotty on the Starship Enterprise, are about to be blasted into space.
While we're at it, that thirty-year old five-year mission? New 'original' episodes.
(This by way of the Artist's Statement of today's The Pain-When Will It End?, by that fabulous Mr. Kreider, a link especially for meeeee, because Tim loves me.)
Hey, shut up. It's MY fantasy world. Yes, that's you I'm telling to shut up, Mr. De-Bunker of All My Illusions, yes, YOU, Mr. Political Animal, writing this week about weather reports. Well, it WAS a particularly newsless week. Even Primarily Decorative noticed that. All the headlines were Congress Promises To Bring Troops Home, Bush Vows To Fight Congress, and the occasional Hundreds Die In... (fill in the blank). By the way, I recognize that final quote.
She's news, all right. I'm no Hilary-basher, but can't resist leaving you with this scary image.
(Photograph; Def Leppard)
The words 'special females here now' ricochet inside my skull without benefit of punctuation or context. I must have read a sign that registered just after I drove past it, and I wonder: crab house or strip joint? The neighborhood I'm in, it could be either one.
As the sky goes from blood-orange to mango to melon, fades from peach to lemon, the air cools. I turn on the heat to warm my feet, but do not pull up my top. Time enough for that when lemon pales to biscuit and smoke deepens to full dark.
It is past four in the morning when I hear the grumbling of distant thunder, only now realizing why I am still awake.
CrushWorld Irregular Featurette Wednesday Linkage: If you've missed 'em, here they are.
For the three or four of you who haven't heard: Rock Star Discovers Unique Family Closeness.
And, speaking of cremains, ashes of the former James Doohan, formerly Scotty on the Starship Enterprise, are about to be blasted into space.
While we're at it, that thirty-year old five-year mission? New 'original' episodes.
(This by way of the Artist's Statement of today's The Pain-When Will It End?, by that fabulous Mr. Kreider, a link especially for meeeee, because Tim loves me.)
Hey, shut up. It's MY fantasy world. Yes, that's you I'm telling to shut up, Mr. De-Bunker of All My Illusions, yes, YOU, Mr. Political Animal, writing this week about weather reports. Well, it WAS a particularly newsless week. Even Primarily Decorative noticed that. All the headlines were Congress Promises To Bring Troops Home, Bush Vows To Fight Congress, and the occasional Hundreds Die In... (fill in the blank). By the way, I recognize that final quote.
She's news, all right. I'm no Hilary-basher, but can't resist leaving you with this scary image.
(Photograph; Def Leppard)