May 29th, 2007

Posted by Eva Moon under Found
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romance novel artMy sisters have long given up trying to get me to read romance genre novels with assurances that “this one is different.” I’ve never read a one that was different. It’s not that the writing is worse than other popular genres. It’s the stories. Or should I say story. Because there’s really only one: Muscle-bound he-man with secret pain that can only be cured by the heroine’s magic twat. Go ahead. Prove me wrong.

But I love a good laugh as much as anyone and had more than a few with these photoshopped romance novel covers. Don’t miss the reader contributions and the naughtiest of the naughty.

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May 26th, 2007

folklifeWe did our annual Folklife hadj today. It’s a four-day folk mash-up held every Memorial Day weekend at the Seattle Center. Fiddlers fiddle, jammers jam, banjos banj and djembes djemb from the crack of noon to the wee smalls; you can hardly blink an eyelash without brushing glitter off the cheek of a hurdy gurdy player. The first time you go it’s a wild, crazy, vibrant assault on the senses - Seattle’s most colorful oddballs crawl out of their winter cocoons and don their brightest fairy wings to alight on the grass - or light the grass - to, um, express themselves. But after a few years you realize it’s really the same cross-dressing, purple-mohawked pierceaholics and grizzle-bearded, tie-dye-overalled squeezeboxers every damn time.

Highlights this year:

  • Us, of course
  • A nine-year-old who balanced all day on a large ball twirling a hoola hoop while playing violin
  • Lukkuul chicken from the Horn of Africa food booth. mmmmm
  • fountainAn amazing solo drummer busking on the sidewalk with nothing but buckets and junk
  • Cheap beers in the performers’ area
  • Little kids gettin’ crazy in the fountain. The fountain is irresistable. It’s water porn for children.

Lowlights:

  • Guerrilla Morris Dancing
  • The sight of grown people who should know better stuffing greasy, Hummer-sized bricks of curly fries into their faces
  • Djembes, djembes and more djembes
  • Trying to move music gear through a solid, heaving wall of tattoed flesh and strollers
  • Djembes

But getting back to fountains, here’s a collection of truly bizarre fountains. Hey, big boy, is that a nozzle in your pants… ?

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May 25th, 2007

Zlad - Elektronik SupersonikI work hard on lyrics, sweating over each word, searching for just the right turn of phrase, working out clever rhymes and fresh imagery while maintaining natural language. It’s a painstaking art.

But every now and then someone comes up with a piece of lyrical brilliance that makes me wonder why I even try.

Hey baby wake up from your asleep
We have arrived onto the future
And the whole world is become…

Elektronik, Supersonik,
Supersonik, Elektronik,

Hey baby ride with me away,
We doesn’t have much time,
My blue jeans is tight,
So onto my love rocket, climb,
Inside tank of fuel is not fuel, but love,
Above us, there is nothing above,
but the stars, above…

Oh, Zlad! Above us, I wish there was nothing above us but the stars above!

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May 24th, 2007

Scientists in Scotland seem to be onto a potential goldmine.

Hope for sex-boost slimming pill

Scientists are developing a pill which could boost women’s libido and reduce their appetite. The hormone-releasing pill has so far only been given to female monkeys and shrews who displayed more mating behaviour and ate less.

The team from the Medical Research Council’s Human Reproduction Unit in Edinburgh believe a human version could be available within a decade.

Link

Och, is that a bagpipe in your kilt, laddie, or are you just happy to see me?

GeorgeThey say loss of libido is common in women and I have to wonder, what does that feel like? Is it like you’re not in the mood right now? Or like you’d puke if he touched you? I mean, even I have times I’m not particularly in the mood (don’t tell anyone - I have a reputation to maintain) but based on experience, the mood usually shows up sometime during the procedings so why not?

Here’s my take on it: Consider the possibility that your libido is still there, it’s just being drowned out by other crap. The human brain can really focus on one thing at a time. The strongest input will always prevail. It’s easier to visualize George Clooney if you’re not staring at George Bush. It’s easier to remember the taste of chocolate if you don’t have a mouthful of sardines. But what about emotions? Feelings don’t have eyelids. It’s not so easy shut the loudest one out. But just because it’s not as easy doesn’t mean it’s impossible.

Try this: Trust your lust. Take it on faith that even though right now you can’t imagine how you could enjoy sex when the kitchen is such a mess, that when all is said and done, you’ll be glad you did. Make a conscious decision to go for it. What have you got to lose by trying? You might just find priming the pump is all it takes to get your engine purring.

And if that doesn’t work, you could always hop a plane to Scotland.

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May 21st, 2007

Oy.

The Bat Mitzvah is over and we’re all recovering but the girl made it through. And all in all, the mother (my sister) made it through with acceptable levels of hysteria not at all out of line with the magnitude of the event (you GO, sis!), though I told her in no uncertain terms that when the girl gets married she is to HIRE flunkies to set up chairs and tables. Our spirits are willing but our backs fatigue and, dear sister, after nine hundred chairs have been placed around tables is NOT the time to decide that the tables really ought to be moved back just a bit. And if you are having a party in a park it is NOT cute to decorate the tables with thousands of tiny silk flowers unless you think litter is a higher art form. But who knows? Maybe in a thousand years little futuristic children will fly in with their jet packs and make cunning wreathes out of them.

They overspent on the dance floor. All eighty thirteen year olds crammed themselves onto six square inches of floor and bounced up and down in a solid hormonal teenberg for hours. They could have used one of the five thousand yellow paper napkins for a dance floor and everyone would have been just as happy.

There were things about the Bat Mitzvah itself I found very moving and things I found hard to bear. She obviously worked very hard to learn everything and I admire the focus and effort it required, but as a non-religious person it mostly seemed like a lot of effort for little purpose. I do understand the drive. There is something very appealing about being part of a line of connecting generations past to generations yet unborn; about feeling part of and responsible to a broad and established community. But what do you do when you don’t believe an ounce of what that broad and established community is based on? Do you fake caring about it in order to get the goodies it offers? I have craved the connection but can’t bring myself to give even the smallest lipservice to the trappings. (Well, no that’s not entirely true. I do put on a Passover seder every year, though I’ve written my own Haggadah which is carefully stripped of nearly every mention of religion and I did come up and do the Aliyah at the Bat Mitzvah for my beautiful neice.) But, I can’t bring myself to actually become part of any religious organization because it would be dishonest. Like grinning into a TV camera and raving about how much I love Kibbles ‘n Bits so I can be in the commercial when I don’t have a dog. Unfortunately, it is the religion part that defines the community and sets it apart from other communities. Nothing like “us vs. them” to keep you focused on which team you’re on.

Is Judaism the only religion where non-religious people feel perfectly justified in going through all the motions without having a shred of personal belief? I know so many Jews who are quite frank in telling me they don’t believe in God, and yet they belong to the temple and have no problem going through the rituals. Is this common in other religions?

The drive back to the hotel turned into a lengthy exploration of North Atlanta byways where every road name was some variation of “Old Peach Bridge Ferry Parkway.” But we were accompanied on the road by an incredible crescent moon with a gleaming jewel of a planet suspended from it’s lower point and eventually the roads led to a familiar hotel.

I fell into bed and slept like a log. Except this particular log was dislodged from the top of a steep and rugged hill and it tossed and tumbled for quite some time before finally coming to rest.

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May 20th, 2007

1926 Lysol AdThis 1926 ad advocates douching with Lysol. Yessirree ma’am, if you’re suffering from the vapours, hysteria and spleen that come with the stress of modern motherhoodery, there’s no more refreshing tonic than a soothing Lysol douche. Gotta keep the wifely poonani scientifically sterile and kissably puckered up for when the mister gets home on the evening train.

Here’s a detail of the ad (click to enlarge). See the complete ad here.

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May 18th, 2007

The sister unit and I were in need of refreshment after our long day of travel and set out on foot with just a room key and a few simoleons in the pocket to enjoy the lovely spring evening and perhaps track down an effervescent potable. Our first stop was at a mini-mart where a sixer of Killian’s Red caught our eye. Bt when we got to the register, ID was demanded before said potable would be ours. ID? I haven’t been carded in ahem-ty years. Surely she could give us a pass. No, ya’ll. It’s a local law. What the…?

Well ok, they lose a sale. It was just some young clerk following orders. On the way back to the hotel we passed an upscale, stones ‘n ferns tavern. The kind with bubbling fountains seeded with coins every few paces and a diminuitive latin guitarist laying down Gypsy King covers to recorded backup. Our plan was to just sit down and order with the confidance of our advanced years, even though we were starting to feel like sweaty teens hoping to get lucky at the 7-11. Again, they asked for ID! We feigned astonishment. Finally, the barmaid sent the manager over to peer into our withered faces and at last, reluctantly, grant us the simple pleasure of a libation.

We talked to the barmaid about it later and she said that since they passed this odd law (yes, they’d card our 96-year-old grandmother) the city’s finest would send officers in undercover to try to catch them breaking the law. Aha. It was starting to become clear now. It’s an old-fashioned shake down. They pass this ridiculous law with big fines attached and then send out fifty-something plainclothes cops to order drinks and when reasonable bartenders trying to make a buck decide not to bother with the ID folderol, they bust them and rake in the fines. Sweet deal for the city.

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May 18th, 2007

From Atlanta:

The airline gods smiled on us today. Our plane from Seattle to Denver sat for about an hour on the tarmac due to some alleged problem with the navigation computer (hey captain, head east and a little south), so we landed in Denver at 11 am to catch a 10:30 connection to Atlanta. But when we got off the plane we discovered that the Denver to Atlanta plane miraculously had been having mechanical problems as well so they were still boarding. Not only that, the departure gate was right next door to our arrival gate. Has this ever happened anywhere? I thought it was a rule of physics that the distance between gates was inversely proportional to the time between connections. We only had to sit on the tarmac another hour before lumbering unsteadily into the sky. Today I am reservedly grateful for poorly maintained aircraft.

On the flight, I started reading a fascinating new book: Stumbling on Happiness by Daniel Gilbert. It’s about the uniquely human ability to imagine the future and our capacity (or lack thereof) to predict how much we will like it when we get there. So far, it falls right in line with the theme of my new show, “My Perfect Life… and Other Delusions.” A perfect life is not something you can get, something outside yourself that you can work toward. It is a state of mind - a choice. The things that happen to you have less power over your ultimate happiness than you think.

We treat our future selves as though they were our children - Spending most of the hours of most of our days constructing tomorrows that we hope will make them happy… (only) for them to cast a disparaging glance backward and wonder what the hell we were thinking.

Tomorrow: Bat Mitvah Madness descends, but today all is quiet on the southern front.

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May 17th, 2007

I’m heading to Atlanta at OMG:30 a.m. tomorrow for the Bat Mitzvah of my dangerously gorgeous neice, Katy. In the throes of planning, her mother suggested to me that alcohol really wouldn’t be necessary, since it was basically “a birthday party for a 13-year-old.” Fortunately, this revelation came with enough advance warning for me to suggest that I didn’t really need to fly three thousand miles for a teen birthday party. Puh-freaking-leez! If I have to spend an evening in a roomful of 13-year-olds, I need some serious fortification.

Fortunately, she saw the light and the fruit of the vine will be making an appearance along with screaming teenly masses. Having only raised boys myself, it was only when they started bringing home girls that I realized how much high-pitched shreiking I’d been missing out on… You know, I think I need a head start. Can someone pass the two-buck chuck over this way?

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May 16th, 2007

The movement was started as a reaction to censorship of a student sex column. In honor of all the nascent Jerry Fallwell wannabes crawling out of the woodwork, I propose a similar proposal here.

…Hong Kong residents have called on authorities to reclassify the Bible as “indecent” due to its sexual and violent content… The complaints follow the launch of an anonymous Web site — www.truthbible.net — which said the holy book “made one tremble” given its sexual and violent content, including rape and incest. If the Bible is classified as “indecent” by authorities, only those over 18 could buy the holy book and it would need to be sealed in a wrapper with a statutory warning notice.

Link

Update: Bible spared indecent classification. Oh well!

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