Cell phone blues...

I really might go on eBay to try to find a model of my old phone, I miss it so much.

That movie thing on Tuesday...

So, I went to the sex documentary/discussion thing again on Tuesday. The movie was about bisexuality and was so-so, but the discussion afterwards was great.

At one point the ghost-hunting dude, who's into polyamory and BDSM, said that he the swinger community can be homophobic, and that that even saying that you enjoy rubbing scrotums with another guy during a double-penetration can cause problems if you tell the wrong swinger.

Otherwise, he prefers the term "heteroflexible".

Later, another guy said that the swinger community is like hyper-normalcy, since all the guys are really masculine and the women are really objectified, and that's why homophobia is present.

The swingers nodded at this, and the ghost-hunting dude said they'd talked a lot about this -- they're all roommates! -- and then added that they've done informal surveys of swingers and BDSM people, and swingers on the whole are older, whiter, richer, more Republican, and more homophobic.

In terms of statistics, the hostess, who is a BDSM dom woman, said that there's a BDSM generational gap, and that most older people are fixed tops (=dominant) or bottoms (=submissive), but that a lot more younger people are switches (=either, depending).

This one handicapped gay dude who had shown up at the disabilities-and-dating screening showed up again, and he stuttered out about bisexuality that it's acceptable in the culture at large for women since it's reallly about patriarchy and straight men wanting to see women kissing.

(Before the discussion, and after the movie, I was behind the one handicapped gay dude when we went up to get some water, and he had a hard time pouring the water and spilled some on himself... Not sure if I should have asked if he wanted me to pour some for him.)

Anyhow, at his comment, I raised my hand and seconded that, and said that for a thought experiment, probably a lot of people would find female bisexuality a lot less cute if it wasn't drunk girls kissing, and it was a woman who swung both ways actually deciding to settle down with another woman, and at that a black lesbian (but not pierced or fat, more like a light-skinned in-shape non-threatening black woman you'd see in a commercial for white people) was like, "That's right!", and the ghost-hunting dude spoke up and was like, "Call it the Lindsey Lohan effect," which I thought was spot-on.

Also, the doc reffed a recent famous sex study that said that there was no male bisexuality, and at discussion time the swingers said they knew the prof, and they blame him for poor study design since he used fake porn and not videotape of real people fucking, since more people overall find that more erotic.

"The problem is that he's just not that experienced," the woman swinger was like.

At that, several BDSM guys in the room - the ghost-hunting dude, and one child psychologist guy around my age - both said that if you hooked them up with a mercury-filled rubberband around their penis, they'd find gay leather porn more erotic than just some chick masturbating, and how do you account for that.

Night Out (part III of III): Hungarians.

After the play, my one Hungarian friend's Hungarian wife had some Hungarian friends there, and I met them. It turned out the guy ("Joe", in American) fled to Germany in 1979 and eventually became a political refugee to the United States.

Later, my one Hungarian friend's Hungarian wife said that the guy (she called him "oochie bachie", an affectionate term meaning 'little brother-uncle', or something like that) when he arrived to the city didn't know anyone, so when he got off the airplane he searched the phonebook for a Hungarian name and found someone, so he called him and explained his situation as a political refugee and asked for help, and the Hungarian guy was like, "Sure!", and they've been friends ever since, and Oochie Bachie now does the same for other Hungarians.

In fact, when my one Hungarian friend's Hungarian wife's friend had given her Oochie Bachie's number as someone to meet when they moved to the city, when she called him up, the first thing he asked was like, "So are you legal or illegal? If you're illegal I know a few people who might be able to help you..."

Night Out (part II of III): Restaurant.

So, after studying at a coffee shop, I went to this local family-style restaurant on the main street, which is one of those rich suburban main streets where everything was built 10 years ago to look like a traditional downtown, mostly, though this place was in a slightly older building from the late 1960s, and was owned by a Greek guy and had Greek touches on the menu (saganaki, Greek-style chicken), like many family restaurants are, and was filled with white retirees.

Anyhow, I looked through the menu, and found two interesting items: the francheezie ("A frank wrapped in bacon"), and the Hawaiian (sp.? - "A toasted English muffin with tuna or chicken salad, American cheese, and a pineapple slice"), and I asked my waitress, a shorter old woman with blonde-ish gray hair and who seemed absent-minded, about both.

As it turns out, the francheezie was a jumbo hotdog slit open and stuffed with American cheese, which was then melted, and then the whole thing was wrapped in bacon, though I'm not sure if it came in a bun or not - I forgot to ask.

As for the Hawaiian, I asked her if it was good, and she leaned over me to look at my menu and was like, "Well, it's a toasted English muffin with tuna or chicken salad, American cheese, and a pineapple slice," and then I asked her again if it was good, and she was like, "Yeah," so I ordered it, with the chicken salad.

So, my meal was a cup of tomato soup (with orzo in it!) and a breadbasket, then the Hawaiian with homemade potato chips. The Hawaiian was served open face, with a big slice of bright orange American cheese like a Kraft single on top, and a tinned pineapple slice beside it. The waitress got me a steak knife so I could it up and eat it easier.

Later when I was eating, this table full of retirees sang happy birthday, and it turned out to be "happy birthday/ dear Dorothy..."

At the end of my meal, this table full of a late middle-aged couple with a little kid sang the song again, and I thought it was the kids birthday, but they sang "happy birthday/ dear Rosemary...", and I kind of stood up a little in my seat and saw the smallest, palest, most hunched-over retiree women I've ever seen slouched in the seat next to the kid, and I realized that that must be Rosemary.

Night Out (part I of III): Train.

So, I went to the northwest suburbs to see a Hungarian friend's wife who's an actress in her first production in this country, and since the place was a haul to get to on public transporation early, and I like daytrips, I went up early to find a coffee shop to study and then grab dinner.

Anyhow, on the commuter train up there was one seat open next to a really old man, and when I went to ask him to scoot out so I could sit down, it took him forever to get up, though he insisted on it when I said to never mind, I'd find another seat.

First, though, he asked what stop I was getting off at; he makes sure to sit on the aisle seat, and hates to get up for someone who gets off even earlier, though the way he said this very slowly, as if he had to collect his thoughts between every phrase, made me wonder if he was in the midst of a stroke.

Anyways, after a bit, I pulled out my new Buffy comic book and began reading, and after I was done in like 15 minutes, he asked me if that was a Buffy comic book I was reading, and when I said yes, he told me that his daughter was a fan, and had recorded them all on VHS, and still went ahead and bought the DVDs when they came out.

He then asked me more about the comic book, since his daughter's birthday was coming up, and then he added that he watched a few, but he never got into it.

"That actress, though...", he was like. "What is her name...? She is... What is her name...?"

"Sarah Michelle Gellar," I was like.

"Yes, that's right...", he was like. "She is voluptuous."

Addendum.

I forgot -

In the time my phone was dead, I received this text, from a contact whose phone I can't figure out since I lost it:

Sorry for not getting back to you sooner! my mom is coming to town this wk, but next wk i should be free...stay in touch. :)

Who the hell wrote that? It's very generic...

Actually, I just googled the area code and I think I know.

Got a new phone.

I got my new phone. I was all prepared to steel myself for losing all my contacts and my favorite text messages (I save all the fun ones), and it turns out I lost like half to two-thirds of them, which I was prepared for since I had told myself ahead of time that I shouldn't be so attached to material possessions, but it was what I wasn't prepared for that made me realize how much I like material things -

-- I hate the small buttons on my new phone, it makes it harder to text.

-- I hate how the menu displays only 2 contacts at once when you scroll down, whereas the menu on my old phone used to display 3 at a time.

-- I hate how the menu screen has these icons that rotate around and look cool, but you can't scroll through that shit as fast, which is annoying.

On the other hand, I now have a color monitor, which I made a dark, bright red.

What disturbs me most of all, though, is that my old model phone got better reception, had better volume, and is legendary for being able to last over a decade if you treat it right, and my new model isn't as good on any of these fronts, since the company stopped making the old model since it lasted too long and they didn't have a constant market for cell phones.

Tales of the gym.

So, my one friend who volunteers at the rape crisis hotline and used to work at the gym desk on campus said she's had a fair share of people take advantage of her being trapped behind the desk while she was working and say lots of weird things:

1) One older white guy said she had nice hair, and asked her to cut off a piece of it for him.

2) One younger white guy was like, "You smell nice," and then after a pause was like, "Is that Chanel?"

She also said she's gotten a few dates from the gym desk, and one boyfriend. She says being able to watch guys work out helps, too, since the guys who seem cute but then try to lift too much weight for themselves she writes off, since she says they seem nice, but you can tell they have self-image problems.

Also, she said once this 30-something grad student kept hitting on Artemis whenever he was at the gym, and since she's young, she didn't know how to avoid giving him her phone number one time when he asked, but right after she gave it to him and he was walking away, she was like, "You know I'm in high school, right?", and the guy stopped and turned around and faced her and was like, "Really?", and then deleted her phone number and turned and went to walk off.

Then, he stopped, turned back to her, and was like, "So when do you turn eighteen?", and he meant it.

My cell phone has died.

I've been having problems with the 5/jkl button for a while, and recently it's started having buttons stick for now reason and then the whole thing restarts (a bitch when I'm writing texts, since when it re-boots the entire text I was working on is gone, it's the worst when I was just about to press "send"), and all this winter when I've been talking outside sometimes the battery goes to zero and the phone shuts off if it's cold outside - sometimes, too, the battery skips down from 4 bars to 1 bar of power when it's on the 4, and then when it's on the 1 bar of power and it goes to 0, the phone acts like it's going to short out but then it just goes to 3 bars of power like it had been - but yesterday night I was talking on it, and it gave this continuous beep and shut down, and now when I push a button to restart it, it just starts up and lights up, but then shuts down automatically, just as the NOKIA screen is on the verge of appearing, which causes this frustration almost like premature ejaculation, since every time I think the phone's going to start working again but what do you know, it doesn't.

So, today I'm going to the store to get it fixed, or get a new one.

Addendum - Movie night/Discussion Group.

I forgot this about last Tuesday -

In talking about the one movie that had 13 feminists who were trying to make a point masturbating, my one friend who works the rape crisis hotline was like, "It was all the same to me if there was 13 women or there was just one, none of them were really individuals."

Also, at the social hour, I met this shorter guy in a maroon suit with a fedora and facial hair, and it turns out that he is active in the local polyamory community and gives sex tours and ghost tours in the city.

"Oh, like that [title of a tv show following around a real life ghost-hunting team] bullshit?", I was like.

"Yes," he was like, "I'm [our city]'s [name of the tv show ghost-hunting team] affiliate."

"Oh," I was like, and then he mentioned he was a psychic.

Pimple / Beets.

Like four or five days ago, I had this big pimple forming right in the hair by my right temple, and you could see it, since my hair's a little short right now. I tried squeezing it, but nothing came out, and it just get bigger and more inflamed and more noticeable.

Anyhow, yesterday I noticed it seemed to have formed more, so I squeezed it, and a big pile of shit flew out (about two pin head's worth of a whitish-gray stuff) and got caught on the end of my hair right there around the pimple.

Also, I had a tupperware of chopped-up beets in my fridge, and it got turned on its side, I noticed a few days ago, and today when I got a carton of eggs out from the shelf beneath, I noticed that beet juice had leaked on top of the carton and was caught in the holes there.

Thurs. / Fri. -- Movie / Piss.

Thurs. night I went to go see the "only screened twice in Kansas City back in the early 50s" Robert Altman-written movie "Corn's-a-Poppin'". As it turns out, the reason he never discusses it in interviews is that it's really, really bad.

Fri. morning I took up and I needed to piss like a racehorse and I also needed to shit, too, so I sat down, and I just let loose pissing, only it somehow went up the bowl and ricocheted off the inside of the rim and onto my boxers and got them all wet, and the worst part was that I had eaten some asparagus off a vegetable plate at a reception, so my boxers got all wet with asparagus piss and I had to put on a new pair. I tried wiping the excess piss off the boxers and the tile with toilet tissue, but there was a lot that got soaked in the boxers, and since I haven't washed my bathroom floors in a while the toilet tissue just soaked up all this piss with lint clotted in it, and the whole thing looked fuck-nasty.