A take on that recent Odyssey movie.

The girlfriend of the one (lesbian) sister of my one (former) (assisted living) client with (disabilities) really had a hard time watching that recent Odyssey movie.

All those soldiers had supposedly just finished fighting a long war, but their helmets weren't distressed, she said.

And, some female character had pierced ears that you could always see on-screen.

"Cover them up or put something in them!", she was like.

Beyond all that, too, she didn't think that the script was that good. 

. . .

(She's done costume design and set and backstage stuff for like ever, including professionally.) 

Addendum.

 In reading Brian Dirck's 2008 book Lincoln the Lawyer, I had come across this factoid (p. 24):

"He was an uncouth looking lad," [lawyer Henry] Dummer later remembered [about Lincoln], with an "insane love in telling dirty and Smutty stories." 

So, when I saw her, I relayed that factoid to the one (lesbian) sister of my one (former) (assisted living) client with (disabilities).

"My god," she was like, "Just when I thought that I couldn't love that man any more."

Conversation (2 of 2): Favor.

Because she's having surgery with a longer recovery time and her girlfriend is having back problems, I offered to the one (lesbian) sister of my one (former) (assisted living client) with (disabilities) that I could help them when I'm able, if they need me to run an errand or if they need me just to pick up something heavy and carry it, since that's now beyond the two of them for the indefinite future.

And, like two days after her surgery, her girlfriend was asking me if I could get a table out of the basement, since they needed it for beside the recliner where she rests a lot now because it allows her to sit in a position that allows her to heal best.

And, of course I could help them, so I confirmed times with her by text, and at the end of that exchange she's like --

Sound good. The front door is unlocked, just walk in.

-- to which I responded that that felt like a conversation on Grindr.

After I helped them there that day and I was about to leave, too, I was like, "Oh, yeah!", and I asked the one (lesbian) sister of my one (former) (assisted living client) with (disabilities) if she saw what her girlfriend texted me.

"Yes," she was like, "Because I told her to text you that."

She set me up! 

Conversation (1 of 2): Therbligs.

Because some stuff that he's teaching led him to therbligs and their look is somewhat reminiscent of ancient writing systems like hieroglyphs, my one (gay) (Brazilian) (STEM) friend messaged me a chart of them --

 

-- and, I wasn't aware of them, so I thanked him, and I also sent him the chart back, marked up --

 

-- and I said that that was like what happens when a guy finds him in a gay sauna. 

 He responded back something to the effect that "Transport Loaded" is like what happens when you get a car-ride afterwards, with all of a guy's jizz inside of you.

Untoward thoughts (2 of 2): Mutual aid.

Like the past month-and-a-half or so, there's some young (queer?) things in keffiyehs sitting on the high-traffic part of the sidewalk right before you're at the farmer's market on Saturdays, just sitting there in the shade of a wall and selling water bottles or "popsicles for Palestine" (I think the hand-drawn sign on their cooler actually said that, at least one Saturday).

And, I wonder what would happen if you started talking to them, but instead of saying "mutual aid," you said "mutual masturbation."

Like, if you asked them who they were with, they would explain the genocide to you, and that they were raising funds independently to send to affected Palestinians, and as they said all of this you would just nod along like you dug it, and then at an opportune time, you'd just slip in and say, "So, this is like a, what do they call it, a mutual masturbation thing?".

I really wonder what they would do if you said that at just the right moment, and all deadpan. 

Untoward thoughts (1 of 2): Pride.

When I was having coffee last week with the one (older) (white) (female) artist who's been cancelled who I know from around town, she was saying how "unhealthy-looking" so many young queer-identified people are.

"You used to go to Pride and it was all of these gorgeous men, and now it's all these unhappy young things with their breasts sliced off," she was like. 

"And I don't know about you," she was like, "But if I was a gay man, I would be pissed." 

Addendum.

Because they wanted to maximally preserve anonymity during jury duty, they addressed us all individually by our assigned juror numbers, and never by our real names.

And, the (older) (dyed-blonde) (white) lady seated in the box next to me with glasses was #99, so they kept calling on her and asking her the standard questions, only, in the form like, "Ninety-nine, have you ever been the victim of a crime?".

So, after she was in the same batch of dismissed jurors as me and we were all walking out together, I turned to her and told her that them calling her "Ninety-nine" all the time made me think that she was "Barbara Eden in Get Smart."

"Oh, you're dating me!", she was like, not noticing that both she and I had forgotten that it was actually Barbara Feldon in Get Smart, not Barbara Eden.

"But I just know it from Nick at Night!", I was like.

When we were about to pass security and exit the courthouse, too, I turned to her and was like, "So are you going to pick up your shoe and call for a ride, now?". 

. . .

(You can tell why I'm popular as a waiter.)