On Tuesday I got my hair cut. Earlier in the day I was studying from home and I had remembered that I had a jug of sangria-soaked fruit left over from a bbq I had went to this weekend, so I shook a bowlful of fruit out and was munching on it while I studied, so I was a little hammered when I got there for my 1:15 appt.
Also, on the way over, I had my light yellow polo shirt on, and I noticed a bug sitting on my shoulder, so I went to flick it off, but since my motor skills were dulled, I ended up crushing it in a green streak across my shoulder.
Anyhow, I'm going a bit longer for summer, and having more texture in my hair. A friend told me I should do that, and Tennille said I should do it, but to know that I'm breaking the rules, since you should wear shorter hair in summer, and get longer hair in fall.
"So should I do?", I was like.
"Oh you should," she said. "I like to break the rules all the time."
I also brought her a pack of stroopwaffels from the Netherlands and gave them to her when I arrived. She was so happy to get them and was crowing over them and saying how nice it was and the other (black) hairdresser there was saying the same thing, to the point where I was getting a little embarrassed, so I was like, "You know, it's not that big a deal, it was like two-fifty for that," and Tennille nicely disagreed and was like, "Oh, but it's the thought that counts."
Tennille also was saying how a friend of hers from Atlanta arranged a tribute fashion show to Marilyn Monroe, and she went down for a few days and got to stay in a nice hotel and did all the models's hair. She said she does this sometimes for shows, and she gets the jobs through connections.
Saturday, July 11, 2009
Friday, July 10, 2009
Addendum.
I forgot --
The frat guy who was dating the S&M activist hostess before she got called up for the Peace Corps suddenly and had to leave the country before the series was over (this happened very quickly, she had her application in for years) used to be in a frat, and he was telling me and my friend who I went with the sex documentary social hour that there was a lot of gayness in frats.
He said he knew several gay guys who would tell everyone they were signing up for the frat just to get action, and that they said it was the best no-strings-attached sex ever, since the guys just wanted sex and wouldn't want to acknowledge it later at all.
Also, it was really easy for straight guys to mess around with each other, he said, since everyone partook in ritualized drinking where you would drink to the same level of drunkenness based on your tolerance level (some people drank more or less depending on their level so that everyone got equal levels of fucked up), and then if someone stayed over, you could just say they were drunk and crased on the couch in your room or whatever, and no one would bat an eye.
He also said that the paddling was very sexual, as was the official dance of every fraternity, which usually involved some cheesy Britney-type pop song where everyone would get in the middle of the room and dance in this big lump where everyone had arms around each others' shoulders.
He also also said that one time he and some brothers were smoking a bong with vodka in it instead of water, and the girlfriend he was with at the time told him to make out with a brother sitting next to him, and he loved it, and later when he was talking with people from other colleges around the U.S., he found that this kind of shit happens a lot (he thought it was just his fraternity).
He also also also said that when they all weightlifted together, he found he could lift more bench-pressing if a brother was standing over him yelling at him and telling him he could do it.
The dude was a total submissive.
The frat guy who was dating the S&M activist hostess before she got called up for the Peace Corps suddenly and had to leave the country before the series was over (this happened very quickly, she had her application in for years) used to be in a frat, and he was telling me and my friend who I went with the sex documentary social hour that there was a lot of gayness in frats.
He said he knew several gay guys who would tell everyone they were signing up for the frat just to get action, and that they said it was the best no-strings-attached sex ever, since the guys just wanted sex and wouldn't want to acknowledge it later at all.
Also, it was really easy for straight guys to mess around with each other, he said, since everyone partook in ritualized drinking where you would drink to the same level of drunkenness based on your tolerance level (some people drank more or less depending on their level so that everyone got equal levels of fucked up), and then if someone stayed over, you could just say they were drunk and crased on the couch in your room or whatever, and no one would bat an eye.
He also said that the paddling was very sexual, as was the official dance of every fraternity, which usually involved some cheesy Britney-type pop song where everyone would get in the middle of the room and dance in this big lump where everyone had arms around each others' shoulders.
He also also said that one time he and some brothers were smoking a bong with vodka in it instead of water, and the girlfriend he was with at the time told him to make out with a brother sitting next to him, and he loved it, and later when he was talking with people from other colleges around the U.S., he found that this kind of shit happens a lot (he thought it was just his fraternity).
He also also also said that when they all weightlifted together, he found he could lift more bench-pressing if a brother was standing over him yelling at him and telling him he could do it.
The dude was a total submissive.
Went to the Social Hour on Tuesday.
I went to the documentary social hour thing on Tuesday again.
The older white guy who grew up a thug in an Italian neighborhood but then became more open-minded and got into sexology was there, and he was talking about he was able to arrange a great fisting demonstration during the Pride parade a few weeks ago.
The talk of the night, though, was the barbecue that the swingers are having this upcoming weekend. I had gotten their eVite a while ago, which ended with -
NO NUDITY IN THE YARD
- but, as the boyfriend of the woman who's around my age and helps coordinate the space at the museum for the movie series said when he asked me if I was going, there's going to be the grill social space, and then one apartment devoted to vanilla play, and another to something heavier.
Later, I was talking with his girlfriend, and she asked me if I was coming, since it would be nice to have friends there, since they're working it through as a couple about how to go and be there, since they both just want to go with no expectations and see what it's like and watch a bit, but it's still nice to have somewhere there like them who won't probably be participating and will "be there just to talk and have a hotdog, you know."
"A hotdog?", said the Unitarian-Universalist sex educator who was also in on the conversation. "Come on, honey, go get a bratwurst."
Later, she gave me her beer, a really strong craft brew w/9% alcohol since it was a little too much for her, though every once in a while she'd take it back to sip more out of.
Since I had ridden up on my bike (33 minutes), I rode back (30 minutes), even though people say it's through ghetto, which it really isn't. At like 11pm at night, I saw a few people walking home from work, and one guy walking a dog.
One car behind me on a main road, though, was riding half in the car lane and half in the parked-car lane (no cars were parked for a while on that stretch), and so kept honking behind me, though I was where I should have been on the road. The driver seemed like some hammered (black) guy.
The older white guy who grew up a thug in an Italian neighborhood but then became more open-minded and got into sexology was there, and he was talking about he was able to arrange a great fisting demonstration during the Pride parade a few weeks ago.
The talk of the night, though, was the barbecue that the swingers are having this upcoming weekend. I had gotten their eVite a while ago, which ended with -
NO NUDITY IN THE YARD
- but, as the boyfriend of the woman who's around my age and helps coordinate the space at the museum for the movie series said when he asked me if I was going, there's going to be the grill social space, and then one apartment devoted to vanilla play, and another to something heavier.
Later, I was talking with his girlfriend, and she asked me if I was coming, since it would be nice to have friends there, since they're working it through as a couple about how to go and be there, since they both just want to go with no expectations and see what it's like and watch a bit, but it's still nice to have somewhere there like them who won't probably be participating and will "be there just to talk and have a hotdog, you know."
"A hotdog?", said the Unitarian-Universalist sex educator who was also in on the conversation. "Come on, honey, go get a bratwurst."
Later, she gave me her beer, a really strong craft brew w/9% alcohol since it was a little too much for her, though every once in a while she'd take it back to sip more out of.
Since I had ridden up on my bike (33 minutes), I rode back (30 minutes), even though people say it's through ghetto, which it really isn't. At like 11pm at night, I saw a few people walking home from work, and one guy walking a dog.
One car behind me on a main road, though, was riding half in the car lane and half in the parked-car lane (no cars were parked for a while on that stretch), and so kept honking behind me, though I was where I should have been on the road. The driver seemed like some hammered (black) guy.
Thursday, July 9, 2009
Unexpected Problem.
When I got in the shower a couple nights ago, as the water backed up in the tub as it usually does, I noticed a longish insect swimming and struggling in the water, only it wasn't a silverfish, but rather some type of roach, like one I had caught on the edge of my sink months ago when I went into the kitchen late at night and turned my lights on (can't remember if I had blogged about that).
Wednesday, July 8, 2009
Lump at the back of my throat.
I've had the worst post-nasal drip the past week. A couple mornings, I wake up and feel this huge snotty lump at the back of my throat at the very start of my nasal passage, so I have to snort deeply and a lot and hack that shit back into my throat before I can spit it out.
The other morning, the huge snotty lump turned out to be the size of a small grape, only gray with brown and green highlights, and it just sat there on the bottom of the sink. I picked it up between my fingers, and it turned out to be a bit gooey, but more solid towards the middle.
The other morning, the huge snotty lump turned out to be the size of a small grape, only gray with brown and green highlights, and it just sat there on the bottom of the sink. I picked it up between my fingers, and it turned out to be a bit gooey, but more solid towards the middle.
Tuesday, July 7, 2009
Addendum.
I forgot -
My friend I went with pointed out a poster entitled "Mind Slavery" that had a black head peeled and unravelling. I didn't notice it at the time, but she said when we left that there was a white hand tugging at the end to make it unravel even more.
My friend I went with pointed out a poster entitled "Mind Slavery" that had a black head peeled and unravelling. I didn't notice it at the time, but she said when we left that there was a white hand tugging at the end to make it unravel even more.
Friday / Sunday: Sunday.
Sunday -
I went to this "African Festival of Life" in a big park on the other side of campus with a friend.
Waiting to go across the street to the festival grounds, this older fatter (black) woman who was standing under an umbrella and selling cookies out of a cooler on the corner asked us if we wanted to buy any cookies, so I grabbed my roll of fat under my shirt and was like, "No thanks, I'm trying to get rockhard abs for summer and that would set me back," and she laughed and was like, "Don't be shaking that at me! You should be glad you're not a woman, that will just melt right off you, not like me, nuh-uh," so I did end up buying two oatmeal raisin cookies.
The music hadn't started up at the festival, so me and my friend wandered around and got some food (a lot of jerk chicken and smoothie booths), and then wandered around the booths to check out the (black radical) merchandise.
One t-shirt said -
DESCENDENT OF A FIELD SLAVE
-while another was a picture of a smarmy Condoleeza Riced with underneath saying -
WHITEY trusts ME
enough to PUT ME
IN CHARGE
OF EVERYTHING.
There was also a lot of Michael Jackson memorabilia.
I went to this "African Festival of Life" in a big park on the other side of campus with a friend.
Waiting to go across the street to the festival grounds, this older fatter (black) woman who was standing under an umbrella and selling cookies out of a cooler on the corner asked us if we wanted to buy any cookies, so I grabbed my roll of fat under my shirt and was like, "No thanks, I'm trying to get rockhard abs for summer and that would set me back," and she laughed and was like, "Don't be shaking that at me! You should be glad you're not a woman, that will just melt right off you, not like me, nuh-uh," so I did end up buying two oatmeal raisin cookies.
The music hadn't started up at the festival, so me and my friend wandered around and got some food (a lot of jerk chicken and smoothie booths), and then wandered around the booths to check out the (black radical) merchandise.
One t-shirt said -
DESCENDENT OF A FIELD SLAVE
-while another was a picture of a smarmy Condoleeza Riced with underneath saying -
WHITEY trusts ME
enough to PUT ME
IN CHARGE
OF EVERYTHING.
There was also a lot of Michael Jackson memorabilia.
Friday / Sunday: Friday.
Friday -
At the busstop things were slow, so I asked this older (black) guy who had paint-spattered clothes and was unshaven if things were running slow. He didn't know, but he said he need to get home before the firing started.
"Fouth of July and New Year," he was like, "I'm home by eight," and he proceeded to tell me about one time how he was taking the subway home on New Year's Eve, and as it went above ground by some housing projects by the tracks that aren't there any more, they were demolished, you could hear pings of bullets ricocheting off the sides of the train.
"I wonder about coming home tonight myself," I was like, "That kind of shit makes me nervous."
"Nervous?", he was like. "Hell, boy, that shit fucks with my head."
He then told me that he was painting some women's closet in my neighborhood for cash under the table, and she had a department store in her closet and that he had it all laid out in her room, and he had to come back the next day just to put it all back in once the pain had dried.
At the busstop things were slow, so I asked this older (black) guy who had paint-spattered clothes and was unshaven if things were running slow. He didn't know, but he said he need to get home before the firing started.
"Fouth of July and New Year," he was like, "I'm home by eight," and he proceeded to tell me about one time how he was taking the subway home on New Year's Eve, and as it went above ground by some housing projects by the tracks that aren't there any more, they were demolished, you could hear pings of bullets ricocheting off the sides of the train.
"I wonder about coming home tonight myself," I was like, "That kind of shit makes me nervous."
"Nervous?", he was like. "Hell, boy, that shit fucks with my head."
He then told me that he was painting some women's closet in my neighborhood for cash under the table, and she had a department store in her closet and that he had it all laid out in her room, and he had to come back the next day just to put it all back in once the pain had dried.
Monday, July 6, 2009
Another recent trip reflection: Turkey and the EU.
When Europeans I know start complaining about Turkey possibly joining the EU and talking about this abstruse policy stuff against it, I just say that I think it would be a wonderful personal growth experience for them, and then when they say that Turkey is almost fascist and not a real democracy -- there's some recent controversy I hadn't heard of where Turkey asked Denmark to shut down the satellite-using Kurdish television station there, otherwise they'd veto the Danish candidate for some organization that they all belong to; the people I know are like, "Turkey isn't a real democracy," or, "They think about government and power in ways that are different from us" -- I'm like, "Well, it would be a personal growth experience on both sides".
Sunday, July 5, 2009
A recent trip reflection: prostitution.
In the Hague and Antwerp red light districts, like ninety percent of working girls are white (and a Dutch friend said like a quarter are Dutch/Belgian, and three-quarters eastern european), but like well over half of the customers are people of color. Is this their only chance socially to fuck a white girl? I wouldn't doubt it.
In the Amsterdam red light districts, most of the people walking around are white tourists, though there too the people actually talking to the girls in the windows are notably people of color, a lot more than in the general population.
My one Dutch friend's friend, who is also Dutch, said that you never see many higher class white Dutch customers, since they go to more expensive, private clubs.
In the Amsterdam red light districts, most of the people walking around are white tourists, though there too the people actually talking to the girls in the windows are notably people of color, a lot more than in the general population.
My one Dutch friend's friend, who is also Dutch, said that you never see many higher class white Dutch customers, since they go to more expensive, private clubs.
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