1) At a committee meeting for his dissertation chapter, the committee members were politely asking my one Dutch friend how his pregnant fiancee is doing, and he was like, "It's awful, she acts as if she is the only one who is pregnant, when I am giving birth to my dissertation."
He said no one found that funny, especially the women.
2) Also, my one Dutch friend's one friend, who is Dutch, said that after I left the one party on Saturday where I had been talking about ghosts as well as that one female masturbation movie I watched the other Tuesday, that he and my one Dutch friend's landlord and the landlord's (female) stayed up late and then went back to the landlord's place to drink more, but then he passed out, so there he was with the cousin, this redheaded quiet girl, and the next thing he knew she had her fly down and was playing with herself as if she was the only one there, and she did this for 15 minutes and then orgasmed.
I asked if she did mostly clitoral stimulation, or whether she gave herself additional pleasure with manual penetration and labial play.
"I didn't have a good view," hew as like.
He also added that after this she told him he had to leave, and to never tell the landlord or our one Dutch friend, and by the time he talked with me, he had already told my one Dutch friend.
Saturday, April 25, 2009
Thursday, April 23, 2009
2 factoids.
1) There's this 4th/5th c. (probably) book attributed to Palladius called "de gentibus Indiae et bragmanibus" (='about the peoples of India and the brahmins').
2) Once paroled, thrill-killer Nathan Loeb worked at a religious hospital in Puerto Rico and spent much of the rest of his life there, eventually dying there and donating his body to the University of Puerto Rico for study.
2) Once paroled, thrill-killer Nathan Loeb worked at a religious hospital in Puerto Rico and spent much of the rest of his life there, eventually dying there and donating his body to the University of Puerto Rico for study.
Wednesday, April 22, 2009
Addendum -
I forgot all about this part of Saturday night -
Because karaoke sucked, me and my friend headed over to my one Dutch friend's house since he lives near by and he had said that he'd be drinking with his neighbors.
Anyhow, after meeting the one of them for the second time - she was like, "Oh yeah, we met at the Irish parade, all I remember is this really long conversation about bestiality that I was really into, but I can't remember the details... Wasn't it about horse-fucking or something?", and I realized I didn't remember that at all, but it sounds like me, so I realized I must have been more drunk at the parade than I remember being - me and her boyfriend started talking about ghost stories somehow.
As it turns out, both were raised in houses that had presences -
With him, he used to wake up regularly and there was a man with a top hat sitting on his bed. Once the hatch to the attic that was in the hallway outside his room started thumping up and down violently and woke up him and his sisters, and they ran downstairs to get his dad, who went up and inspected the attic and found nothing.
With her, the ghost would be noisy at night, and walk up and down the stairs, and her dad would ask it to quiet down (it usually would). Sometimes in the kitchen (the entrance to the house they use most is the side-door to the kitchen) utensils fly at unknown people when they enter.
Because karaoke sucked, me and my friend headed over to my one Dutch friend's house since he lives near by and he had said that he'd be drinking with his neighbors.
Anyhow, after meeting the one of them for the second time - she was like, "Oh yeah, we met at the Irish parade, all I remember is this really long conversation about bestiality that I was really into, but I can't remember the details... Wasn't it about horse-fucking or something?", and I realized I didn't remember that at all, but it sounds like me, so I realized I must have been more drunk at the parade than I remember being - me and her boyfriend started talking about ghost stories somehow.
As it turns out, both were raised in houses that had presences -
With him, he used to wake up regularly and there was a man with a top hat sitting on his bed. Once the hatch to the attic that was in the hallway outside his room started thumping up and down violently and woke up him and his sisters, and they ran downstairs to get his dad, who went up and inspected the attic and found nothing.
With her, the ghost would be noisy at night, and walk up and down the stairs, and her dad would ask it to quiet down (it usually would). Sometimes in the kitchen (the entrance to the house they use most is the side-door to the kitchen) utensils fly at unknown people when they enter.
Tuesday, April 21, 2009
Asparagus fart.
So, Sunday night I sauteed some asparagus (was a sale at the store this weekend because they were slightly dry, picked up a couple bunches) and incorporated it into an omelette.
After I ate, I took a little piss and it smelled a bit, but then I farted, and the farts smelled like a mixture of fart and asparagus.
After I ate, I took a little piss and it smelled a bit, but then I farted, and the farts smelled like a mixture of fart and asparagus.
Addendum.
Here are the secrets to the astounding karaoke trifecta I pulled off the other week -
I had them kick the Gordon Lightfoot song down a few notches, otherwise it'd be too high for me. Then, the song's drive towards the chorus comes out; the first two verses stop short before the part that everyone knows, and then when it does come it's a huge climax in the song.
The Dr. Hook song everyone knew, since people were a bit older... The one blonde lady lip-synched to the part that goes -
the operator said/
forty cents more/
for the next/
three/
minutes...
- and that always helps, and plus, the "please Mrs. Avery/ I've got to talk to her" isn't that hard to do, but comes off great, and plus the song's story has a lot of emotion to pull from it, and you can get all quiet on the last verse where Mrs. Avery informs you that Sylvia is leaving for the airport right then with her new love.
With the Three Dog Night, the song goes from slow right into a driving verse, so if you know it's coming and it doesn't through you, it's a very nice effect... Also, the melody is very arresting, and the fade out with the repetitive lyrics actually works very nicely, if you vary them slightly, and do a mock-echo effect with on the "just"s in "just/ just/ an old song/ coming down/ in three part harmony".
I had them kick the Gordon Lightfoot song down a few notches, otherwise it'd be too high for me. Then, the song's drive towards the chorus comes out; the first two verses stop short before the part that everyone knows, and then when it does come it's a huge climax in the song.
The Dr. Hook song everyone knew, since people were a bit older... The one blonde lady lip-synched to the part that goes -
the operator said/
forty cents more/
for the next/
three/
minutes...
- and that always helps, and plus, the "please Mrs. Avery/ I've got to talk to her" isn't that hard to do, but comes off great, and plus the song's story has a lot of emotion to pull from it, and you can get all quiet on the last verse where Mrs. Avery informs you that Sylvia is leaving for the airport right then with her new love.
With the Three Dog Night, the song goes from slow right into a driving verse, so if you know it's coming and it doesn't through you, it's a very nice effect... Also, the melody is very arresting, and the fade out with the repetitive lyrics actually works very nicely, if you vary them slightly, and do a mock-echo effect with on the "just"s in "just/ just/ an old song/ coming down/ in three part harmony".
Monday, April 20, 2009
Weekend (II of II): Saturday night.
So, on Saturday night I went to hipster karaoke.
Now, the last time I went to karaoke, at the gyros lounge downtown, I had the most successful three-song set I've ever done in my life over the course of the night - Gordon Lightfoot's "If You Could Read My Mind", then later Dr. Hook and the Medicine Show's "Sylvia's Mother", and then later and last Three Dog Night's "Old-Fashioned Love Song", which I really rocked out on and made the Greek owner really get into it, especially the variations on the lyric "just just/ an old song" I did towards the end when that line repeated a lot; everyone loved everything else too, including this older blonde woman who smiled when she heard the Dr. Hook start up, though Patrice liked my one friend's rendition of a country song I forget the name of, she said it was her favorite song -- but this time everything was different at hipster karaoke.
For one, there were these drunken mid-20s former frat boys there who had showed up hammered from the baseball game that had just gotten out, and they dominated the singing all night (or at least the part of the night that we were there, we left pretty quick)...
The very first song they sang - first song of the night! - it was some 80s hard rock, and they bounced around, and into the host. They sucked it up so much and were so obnoxious and out of place, I started to boo them, and was secretly hoping that I'd get in a fight. One of them was very tall, and since the ceilings were so low, he sat on a stool with the two others when they later sang "You Never Even Called Me By My Name". One of the others, though, was like four feet tall and baseball-capped and heavily-muscled - they were like opposites - so I kept yelling, "Hobbit, you suck!", and, "Get the fuck back to the Shire!", but I don't think he heard me.
I sang the Doors's "Love Her Madly", which I did okay on but does not make for a good karaoke song (repetitious lyrics and melody, long instrumental breaks), and my friend did Hank Williams's "Jambalaya", which the short Latino bartender who's a Korean war veteran really liked.
The other bartender also poured short on my whiskey on the rocks, and when he noticed it, he came over with the Jameson and gave me a few more shots.
Now, the last time I went to karaoke, at the gyros lounge downtown, I had the most successful three-song set I've ever done in my life over the course of the night - Gordon Lightfoot's "If You Could Read My Mind", then later Dr. Hook and the Medicine Show's "Sylvia's Mother", and then later and last Three Dog Night's "Old-Fashioned Love Song", which I really rocked out on and made the Greek owner really get into it, especially the variations on the lyric "just just/ an old song" I did towards the end when that line repeated a lot; everyone loved everything else too, including this older blonde woman who smiled when she heard the Dr. Hook start up, though Patrice liked my one friend's rendition of a country song I forget the name of, she said it was her favorite song -- but this time everything was different at hipster karaoke.
For one, there were these drunken mid-20s former frat boys there who had showed up hammered from the baseball game that had just gotten out, and they dominated the singing all night (or at least the part of the night that we were there, we left pretty quick)...
The very first song they sang - first song of the night! - it was some 80s hard rock, and they bounced around, and into the host. They sucked it up so much and were so obnoxious and out of place, I started to boo them, and was secretly hoping that I'd get in a fight. One of them was very tall, and since the ceilings were so low, he sat on a stool with the two others when they later sang "You Never Even Called Me By My Name". One of the others, though, was like four feet tall and baseball-capped and heavily-muscled - they were like opposites - so I kept yelling, "Hobbit, you suck!", and, "Get the fuck back to the Shire!", but I don't think he heard me.
I sang the Doors's "Love Her Madly", which I did okay on but does not make for a good karaoke song (repetitious lyrics and melody, long instrumental breaks), and my friend did Hank Williams's "Jambalaya", which the short Latino bartender who's a Korean war veteran really liked.
The other bartender also poured short on my whiskey on the rocks, and when he noticed it, he came over with the Jameson and gave me a few more shots.
Weekend (I of II): Friday night.
So, on Friday night my neighbor who I volunteered for Obama with down in Indiana biked down to the vegan soul food place. I'm always amazed by the number of Family Dollars, laundromats, and check-cashing places in the poorer neighborhoods, especially the Family Dollars - for many people, that and a corner store is where people get their groceries...
The restaurant was good. There was a homeless dude on something selling papers out in front when we got there, and he had this whole schtick about how everyone who had seen us biking knew we were coming to that place, which was very true - it's pretty much the only restaurant in that area that whites go to.
Later, we biked back and, after stopping for a bit to hear the informal (black) drum circle that gathers evenings at this one beach just south of our neighborhood and occasionally attracts jazz flutist and clarinetists, went to the black neighborhood bar for a drink. The jukebox recently added some Chaka Khan, and when "Tell Me Something Good" kicked up, I counted four black women bobbing their heads and lip-synching to no one in particular - two younger women like our age near us drinking, one with a fedora and a wine glass with the little bottle of wine next to it, and another a little older further down the bar, and then this one way across the bar who was in her early 50s and had this metallic red beehive, rhinestone-rimmed glasses, and a jean jacket that left her belly hanging out, though she wasn't that fat.
My neighbor, who goes to law school, mentioned that practicing civil rights lawyers tell them never to quote the Bible in a defense to lend it gravitas unless you were raised in a Bible-quoting church, because it's better to use it not at all then use it and not know what you're doing, since you're guaranteed to have usually at least two Bible-reading old women in the jury, and they'll call you out on that shit and turn against you if you do it badly.
The restaurant was good. There was a homeless dude on something selling papers out in front when we got there, and he had this whole schtick about how everyone who had seen us biking knew we were coming to that place, which was very true - it's pretty much the only restaurant in that area that whites go to.
Later, we biked back and, after stopping for a bit to hear the informal (black) drum circle that gathers evenings at this one beach just south of our neighborhood and occasionally attracts jazz flutist and clarinetists, went to the black neighborhood bar for a drink. The jukebox recently added some Chaka Khan, and when "Tell Me Something Good" kicked up, I counted four black women bobbing their heads and lip-synching to no one in particular - two younger women like our age near us drinking, one with a fedora and a wine glass with the little bottle of wine next to it, and another a little older further down the bar, and then this one way across the bar who was in her early 50s and had this metallic red beehive, rhinestone-rimmed glasses, and a jean jacket that left her belly hanging out, though she wasn't that fat.
My neighbor, who goes to law school, mentioned that practicing civil rights lawyers tell them never to quote the Bible in a defense to lend it gravitas unless you were raised in a Bible-quoting church, because it's better to use it not at all then use it and not know what you're doing, since you're guaranteed to have usually at least two Bible-reading old women in the jury, and they'll call you out on that shit and turn against you if you do it badly.
Sunday, April 19, 2009
Addendum - That Movie Thing on Tuesday.
I forgot --
At that movie thing on Tuesday, a few second-wave feminists showed up, including this one with short grey ear and small earrings, who at one point made a point of explaining lesbian separatism to the audience, since she said it made sense at the time and people forget that context.
Anyhow, at one point she launched into a story about how in college back in the 1960s she had this roommate who was Jewish, and this one acquaintance of theirs said in front of her roommate that she never ate bagels, because Jews touched them when they made them. The story went on from there, but in the end the acquaintance was forced to confront her stereotypes about Jews, and the second-wave feminist was like, "Which goes to show you, it's always been about education, and it always will be."
At that movie thing on Tuesday, a few second-wave feminists showed up, including this one with short grey ear and small earrings, who at one point made a point of explaining lesbian separatism to the audience, since she said it made sense at the time and people forget that context.
Anyhow, at one point she launched into a story about how in college back in the 1960s she had this roommate who was Jewish, and this one acquaintance of theirs said in front of her roommate that she never ate bagels, because Jews touched them when they made them. The story went on from there, but in the end the acquaintance was forced to confront her stereotypes about Jews, and the second-wave feminist was like, "Which goes to show you, it's always been about education, and it always will be."
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