Tuesday, August 30, 2005

Back In The Outside

I am done with vacation.

Today I went back to work to "organize" my room at school. The kids don't arrive until next Tuesday and my official first day back as a teacher isn't until tomorrow. However, the "teacher-only" days will be fraught with meetings and other silliness that has little to do with prepping for the kids and teaching them and everything to do with mandatory 15 minute meetings to remind us how to run homeroom and study hall.

I was so excited by these prospects that I had to run back there today.

I learned a few things today:

1. I've become entirely too used to being around air conditioning. 2 hours in my classroom and I thought I was going to sprout mold. In fact, I may now be able to cure Gonorrhea with a wave of my hand.

2. Having a lot of electronic equipment that has wires that are duct taped to the floor so no one will trip leads your custodians to not remove any furniture from the room before they wax the floor. I didn't realize that gaffer tape could be shiny.

3. They can clean the chalkboard, but they won't neccessarily clean out the chalk tray. My immaculately clean board has a tray with a suspicious powdery mass piled up at the end of it. Could be anthrax. Could be cocaine. But more probably, I could use it to demonstrate the ability of flouride to penetrate tooth enamel in a Colgate commercial. Go dentistry.

4. Filing of documents that belong to the last school year should've been done last year. Or at least I should've worn shoes with better arch support while I did last year's stuff this year.

5. Yow will get phone calls from parents who wonder if there was summer reading. It's really too late now for the kids to do it. Consider options possibly involving forehead tattoo for the following summer........June, 2006: "Do you have any summer reading?" Little Johnny pulls his bangs back to slowly reveal one word: "Gatsby". I like it.

Thursday, August 25, 2005

Nippoless Nippleby

Nope! You won't find a nipple anywhere on me! Once upon a time there was an independent movie theater in Waterville, Maine. Once upon a time it showed edgy movies like "Last Exit To Brooklyn" and "Delicatessen". As far as I know, it still might: Railroad Square Cinema.

When I was a senior in college, it screened an animation festival. Among the animation shorts brought to us by "Spike and Mike" was a four minute short called "Nippoless Nippleby". Nippoless lacked, um, nipples. However, he had other...attributes.

Yes, it was a four minute animated dick joke.

I thought this was the best four minutes of animation ever. In 1992.

I've recently acquired a copy of the short (plus other adult oriented animated shorts by DNA Productions). DNA would go on to bring the world the kid-friendly animated production, Jimmy Neutron.

Jimmy Neutron got nominated for an "Oscar" (Best Animated Feature category...I think it lost to "Shrek").

I bet Jimmy. has nipples. And. a dick.

Wednesday, August 24, 2005

I Bend Over For Health Care


I had the inconvenience of being diagnosed with mild near-sightedness in the 8th grade. I got glasses, but I never wore them. They looked something like this:
Janine, sorry about the 'bug-eye' thing...
Oddly enough, so did my hair. *shudder*

Anyway, since my left eye was normal, I didn't end up wearing the glasses on any kind of regular basis until sometime after I'd graduated college. I was doing a lot of night time driving because of my grad classes and my depth perception seemed off. So, I buckled and started wearing the glasses. After all, it was night time. I'd be able to see and no one could see. me. Win-win for everyone.

Except, I discovered that my eyes, once given the outlet of corrective lenses to do the heavy lifting, "gave up". My vision deteriorated precipitously after this point. Being vain, I continued to only wear my glasses when driving. Alone. Even after the right ear piece fell off in 1996:
The horror...the horror...


Today, I finally broke down and bought new glasses. It'd been over 20 years after all. The eye exam was covered by my health insurance. The glasses...were...not.

I walked out of the office, having purchased two pairs of glasses (one regular - rimless, almost invisible lenses on barely present wireframes and one pair of sunglasses - RayBan Predator Flight series in Bronze...I used to work for Sunglass Hut...old habits and tastes die hard...), just somewhat over $700 lighter in my bank account. Buh? I was tempted to ask if the glasses came with a hemorrhoid donut for my suddenly throbbing asshole. Yep. My bum was all "rent asunder" by the nice folks at LensCrafters. It wasn't the price of the frames that bugged me. I was prepared for that. It was the damn lenses. Is this normal? Did I get hosed? Will my glasses pick up stereo? Cure cancer? Inquiring victims of occular rectal invasion want to know.

On the other hand, it may be another 20 years before I get my eyes checked again. It's probably going to be cost-effective over time, with inflation. At the very least, I should be able to sit down comfortably by then.

Tuesday, August 23, 2005

Most Phallic Victorian Feat of Architecture Ever!

Lock Up Your Daughters Here!

Just throw a couple round hedges at the bottom of the "turret" and voila! A towering ode to Victorian repression that you can probably use to lock up your female children more safely than a chastity belt. They can read "Wuthering Heights", work themselves up into a lather, and not be able to do anything about it until you marry them off to the suitors of your choice.

You can find this prime piece of real estate in lovely, downtown, North Attleboro, Massachusetts. It's down the street from a Pilates place, an office supply store, and a soup kitchen. What a bargain!

Here's What I'm Drinking Tonight!

Chimay!

Mmmm, Boozy Goodness Made By Monks!

This is a Belgian beer made by Trappist monks. By - Not from.. I've had to explain that to Goths more often than I'd care to. Anyway, it's got 7% ABV. Complex, yet light. Pairs nicely with food. If you like wheat beers or Lambics, you'd like this. We had it tonight with Bratwurst and German potato salad. I make the best German potato salad. Ever.

Saturday, August 20, 2005

Revenge of Kitty-Boo-Boo Name Generator


To Meme, Or Not To Meme

I've been tagged by Dave and charged with divulging the 5 songs I think "dig hard".

Ok. Because I'm a team player. Mostly.

"Hate" - Fiction Plane
"War Pigs" - Dresden Dolls (yes, that "War Pigs")
"Naked Except For Socks" - Robby Roadsteamer
"Hard For A 'Tard" - The Dave Brockie Experience
"100 Ways To Be A Good Girl" - Skunk Anansie

Now I'm supposed to tag 5 other people, in chain letter fashion. Unfortunately, I don't really know.. anybody, so I'll throw some names out here and see what happens:

Lance
Lightning Bug's Butt
Blog Ho
RCS
John Curtin

And, while we're on the subject of meme's, here is the only cool one I've ever come across:

"Which Serial Killer Are You?"

Apparently:


If I was a serial killer I would be Jack the Ripper.

Jack the Ripper was, by far the most notorious killer of all time. What would drive a man to kill 5 prostitutes, surgically mutilate the bodies, and then stop, to never be heard from again? Most of the murders were pretty much the same: the victim had her throat cut and her abdomen exposed, the intestines were placed over her right shoulder and sometimes a kidney or even the heart had been removed.

Jack the Ripper's murders are still unsolved.

Kill count: 5


I'm going to go do something awful to kittens now.

Friday, August 19, 2005

Bad Comedian



Dateline - I can't actually give the details, but it happened...as far as you know...don't let this happen to your comedy scene:

“Uh, is this thing on?

Hi, my name is _____________ . And I just lost 40 pounds!”

*half hearted audience applause*

“I sold all my brother’s dragon dice on E-bay. That’ll teach him to roll for strength with a 20 sided die instead of 3 d6. That’ll teach him to steal my password to Friendster and hit on my girlfriend, “Sausage Party”! Bitch. Yeah, mom likes me best, what?!

So, I don’t know if you could tell or not that I like Dungeons and Dragons a lot.

Heh.

Awfully quiet in here. It’s like I rolled a saving throw against the Vacuum of Sucking Despair and lost, or as I call it, Prom Night. My date was a succubus. Actually, she was a NPC working behind the bar in the campaign we were running instead of going to the Prom, but it was very realistic. Let’s just say I rolled versus Premature Ejaculation and lost.

So, there’s a lot of misconceptions about masturbation. For example, you don’t go blind. But, I do have really bad astigmatism.

And, it’s playing hell with my infravision. Um. See, if you’re a halfing, uh…

Two paladins walk into a bar. And they razed the entire building and purified it with holy water because drinking’s a sin.

Heh.

Cruising for transvestites is LARPing, right?

So, do any of you read comics? How about that “Infinity Crisis”? Batman got mindwiped! That sucks! No joke there, just saying….

Speaking of comics, what do you think Aquaman’s wife’s pussy smells like? Pork?

I don’t have a crisis about my identity. I live in the basement. That’s because I’m part Drow. Elf. It’s a particular…species…they’re pretty badass, actually…

So Todd McFarlane sure has a lot of BALLS, huh? Huh? See, he buys expensive baseballs, and… he tried to steal Miracleman, and… Um… the Spawn movie totally sucked. Yeah.

So… I was having dinner with my mom and dad, and I grabbed the pepper shaker, and I yelled, “He who controls the spice controls the universe!” So, I’m technically grounded. But it’s funny because my mom looks kinda like Baron Harkonnen. You know… they’re both kinda fat… I don’t know if my mom had a nipple plug, but… my dad hasn’t left, so maybe…

Besides: I can’t compare her to Jabba the Hutt! That’d be HACK! Or at least that’s what the writers in the chat room I hang out in tell me. When we’re not talking about porn.

Speaking of Jabba the Hutt, how about Princess Leia in Revenge of the Jedi? Yeah, that’s right, you heard me. Revenge of the Jedi. I know nothing of no “Ewoks”. Wookies all the way baby. *Makes Chewbacca noise* ‘Yub, yub’ my left testicle!

I think it’s important to remember that Greedo NEVER SHOT FIRST. That’s why I keep a shrine of Kenner action figures –

Is that the light?”

Thanks to Mr. Scoop for filling in the gaps on some of this.

Thursday, August 18, 2005

Not An Addict...That's A Lie...


Live Band, $2 Drafts and the Opportunity To Pretend To Be A Rock God

Have you heard of “X-Treme Live Band Karaoke”? In this variation, you pick out songs from the provided binder and are backed by a live band when you go up to perform them. We went on the recommendation of one of Mr. Scoop’s radio compadres. He knew the band.

My feelings on karaoke are not a secret to those who know me. I enjoy it immensely, like the big dork that I am. I will happily sing at the top of my lungs sitting home alone for no good reason at all. Get me out in public with a couple of beers in me and I find getting up on a stage in front of others very addictive. It’s a nice adrenaline rush that mixes well with a beer buzz. Like a speedball, but without the unfortunate overdosing in a cheap hotel room with a hooker. However, the idea of trying to keep up with a live band terrified me. Sure the words of the songs were in a book at the front, but there’d be no helpful teleprompter to light up the words and jog my beer addled mind when to come in on a verse.

Compounding my fears was the absence of songs that I thought I could handle. Some awful hosebeast Cher wannabe had already taken No Doubt’s “Just A Girl”. It’s poor karaoke etiquette to perform a song after someone else had already done it. I’ve watched karaoke divas get into slapfights and hair pulling over this in the restroom. Let’s just say that the San Diego/La Jolla karaoke scene is more competitive than Boston’s. However, I secretly suspected that the Cher hosebeast was a man. A high strung man with 3 inch red acrylic tips, 4 inch Jimmy Choo knock-offs and 5 other inches he’d rather not talk about because he’s Irish. So, I kept looking. Lots of Guns and Roses, but I don’t really have Axel’s crab dance down. The only Pat Benatar to be found was “Hit Me With Your Best Shot”, when I’m really more of a “Love Is A Battlefield” kinda girl. No Heart at all. No Irene Cara. No Lita Ford.

The best choice for a good karaoke song is one that you can perform even when under the spell of the most vicious blackout. If you go up too drunk to remember the words, the audience will be entertained for about one verse. Then they’ll throw beer bottles at you like you’re The Blues Brothers in a country and western bar without the benefit of chicken wire. I settled on K’s Choice – “Not An Addict”. I recalled that I owned the CD and had even listened to it a few times in 1997. Then I spent the remaining time before they called me to go up trying to remember the words and tune beyond the chorus. Mr. Scoop helpfully bought more beer and told me to stop worrying.

As it turned out, I did just fine. I couldn’t really hear myself, which was a little disconcerting, but nobody threw anything at me and I got a lot of very nice compliments after. That was pretty cool. So, of course, I wanted to go up again immediately. Because I am an addict.

In fact, I’m on enforced sobriety tonight. Up the street from me is the local sports bar’s karaoke night and Mr. Scoop is not here to chaperone me tonight. I could get drunk enough to stagger up there solo. I know; I’ve seen me do it.

Tuesday, August 16, 2005

The Day The Lights Went Out In Burbclave



The lights were out today for almost 5 hours. This will happen when overzealous, crack addicted, spastic landscapers hit an underground cable while trying to get the azaleas "just right" and improve feng shui, instead of trimming the hedges in a leisurely fashion and charging the rest to padded overtime like God intended.

We were without beer for the whole time too. That kind of sober free time is not for the faint of heart. It leads to intellectual pursuits like reading comic books and playing "Strip Jenga". And, without the noise buffering effect of television and air conditioning, it also leads to the discovery that the downstairs neighbors' sex life sounds as though farm animals may be involved. I think that violates the lease.

Somewhere around the third hour, we took a stroll around the complex. We examined the community BBQ pits and the pool. I dipped my toe in. So far, my toe has not turned gangrenous. It has, however, told me that it can hear secret messages coded in radio waves and has requested to be covered in tin foil. I told it that I'd get back to it.

When I woke up this morning, in the throes of a hangover brought on by mixing sake and Canadian whisky while watching "The Godfather", this was not where I expected my day to go. I expected to avoid bright light while sitting on the couch watching repeat episodes of "Spiderman". Morbius was going to do something stupid and turn himself into a vampire. The aspirin was going to eventually kick in and everything was going to be ok. But, instead, we kept all the curtains wide open as we watched for signs that Burbclave Municipal Electric might show up and duct tape the power back into the "on" position. Without air conditioning. And a faint mooing (with ocassional bleatings) emanating from downstairs. Until 5pm.

The power is back on now. I have learned from this experience. I have learned that sake and whisky, when ingested together, are the alcoholic equivalent of C4 in your head the next morning. I have learned that it is important not to play "Strip Jenga" in front of open windows. Finally, I've learned that the community pool may habor intelligent life capable of demonic possession.

I'm off to find tin foil.

Sunday, August 14, 2005

Meatballs, Sex and the City



I had a dream last night that the finale to “Sex and the City” had nothing to do with Carrie fucking off to Paris and everything to do with me chasing down Samantha Jones because she stole my meatballs and wouldn’t fess up.

I made my special meatballs – baked in the oven, not fried, because that’s how Mom makes them. Then, they magically disappeared from my oven. I spent the whole rest of the dream tracking them down. I finally found them in the oven at Samantha Jones's apartment. She behaved all clueless when I got there and said something about how she couldn’t possibly have done it because she was having sex with Orlando Bloom in a swing at the time. So I punched her in the solar plexus and stomped on her head until she finally confessed to the dastardly deed, while Miranda looked on, shaking her head and muttering, “I told you so…”

I’m not sure what this dream means, but I do know that at the end of it I kicked Samantha in the ass and booted her out the door: “Go back to Porky’s you geriatric bitch!” Then I ate my meatballs with spaghetti and garlic bread.

This is all the more weird because I don't watch "Sex and the City". Maybe I should eat something…

Thursday, August 11, 2005

The Natural Order Of Things



On Parenting:

Here's reason #7,346 why Mr. Scoop and I will never be parents.

In response to learning that his best friend from college had recently become blessed with sprog:

"... I recommend that you teach the kid that life's not fair right
away. Every third time she cries, you . breast feed her. It might just prompt her to get a job earlier."


Meat Hangover

Yesterday I constructed a burger that made the gods weep. It was so cosmically fantastic that, by the time I'd finished eating it, it defied the laws of physics and, possibly, time. Oh sure, there was only 2/3 of a pound of meat in each blue cheese stuffed Mondo Burger (tm), but by the time I'd topped it with Swiss cheese, tomatoes, mushrooms and onions (all strategically placed on asiago focaccia) the volume of the food somehow increased exponentially in such a way that I felt as though I'd been filled to the eyes with meat. It was a beautiful, yet terrifying experience. The joy and euphoria of meat and cheese mainlining into my brain. Serotonin levels reaching critical mass for the volume of my brain and central nervous system. The subsequent realization that the burger had increased my mass to the point of event horizon when I tried to remove myself from the couch. I kept waiting for random objects to fly into my field of gravity.

Then I started drinking and it was all better.

Man Bites Bear. Bear Mauls Man. Nature Restored to Harmony.

There's a special on Primetime tonight on ABC about a guy who tried living with bears in the wild and ended up being disembowled and generally turned into a squishy mass of fleshy pulp for his efforts.

I personally believe that now that we've developed electricity, buildings and air conditioning there's really no good reason to get back to nature. Not even a trans-fat laced meat hangover. Wildlife is for watching through a protective barrier (I call it TV) or for eating (after a thorough de-worming). If you mess with this status quo, you're going to be eviscerated as Mother Nature intended.

I'm looking forward to this special intently.

Tuesday, August 09, 2005

I Put A Baby In You

Have you experienced the musical and comedy genius that is Robby Roadsteamer yet?

I put a baby in you because you kept talking about going to college...Click here to watch either the low res version or high res version of his new video "I Put A Baby In You". You'll need to have Windows Media Player to see the video. It's off his new album "Heart Of A Rhino". Great, funny, rocking stuff from the man who brought us "I'm Sorry Your Cat Has Ass Cancer".

Watch the damn video! You'll be glad you did.

Now I'm off to digest the metric ton of sushi I had for dinner at "All You Can Eat" night. They had toro. I love toro. I think I ate all the toro. It is swimming in my belly now. Mr. Scoop is playing GTA:San Andreas in the other room as I type. I know this because he keeps shouting "Take it, bitch!" so it's either GTA or he's hired a hooker because he's feeling neglected while I'm blogging. I should go investigate.

Watch the video!!!!!!!

Monday, August 08, 2005

An Object At Rest Cannot Be Stopped!






This is the pizza I made last night to eat while we watched a marathon of "The Tick" and "Aqua Teen Hunger Force" and drank lots of this:



The pizza was a gourmet tour d' force, if I do say so myself. Fried potatoes and pepperoni anchored by sharp cheddar cheese. Topped with mussels steamed in wine and a garlic and saffron cream sauce. Damn fine, serious pizza for not particularly serious people. Mr. Scoop feared the pizza, initially, until he tasted it. Then he pronounced it yummy and an excellent booze soak to boot.

The beverages for the evening were fairly high octaine. The wine, Las Rocas, clocks in at 14 percent alcohol. I drank two bottles. This morning I feel as though someone shit in my head, but I had fun last night and that's what counts, isn't it. Isn't it?! Look, don't make me come over there. I'll cut you.

You may remember the Las Rocas from The Great Wine Experiment.

The beer, Arrogant Bastard Ale, is described by it's maker thusly:


It is one of the best ales created on the face of the planet. It has a 7.2 ABV. Mr. Scoop also awoke somewhat damaged this morning. He decided to counter the damage by making breakfast. We had omlettes.

Mr. Scoop makes a mean omlette. First he whips up the eggs in the tin cup his parents gave him to sell pencils out of when he announced that he wanted to make his living by telling dick jokes to the masses:



Then he adds bacon, ham, pepperoni and cheddar cheese.

Action Cooking Shot!

You may have noticed Mr. Scoop has no head in these pictures. He ranted at me while I was taking them about "celebrity" and "dignity" and something about a stalker. All I know is it's important not to piss off a guy in the throes of a viscious hangover who has a sharpened 8 inch chef's knife within easy reach. I enjoy having fingers. I use them to do stuff, like drink.

Anyway, the finished product looked like this:

Meat Feast!

It was excellent. It was meaty. It was feasty. It was a Meat Feast of an omlette if ever there was such a thing. I threw some hot sauce on there and dug in. I am now patiently awaiting the blessed food coma that I know will follow.

Let the healing begin.

Thursday, August 04, 2005

My Muse, Sake



This cute little comic was forwarded to me by Lance.


Click To Enlarge, Damn It!

It seems to be summing up my evening. Hell, it seems to be summing up the last 18 months or so.

Quick story - One night, about eight years ago, Lance and I and my roommate to be, Throb (another story for another day), went out for sushi at an establishment in Cambridge for a few hours before I was supposed to go to my grad class in "Literature for Children and Young Adults". This was a fairly easy class for someone like me with an English major from Colby. Assignments involved making paper mache masks of characters from books we read in class instead of 5 page response papers regarding the images of female oppression or Freudian imagery in "The Yellow Wallpaper". Sometimes the assignments involved discussing the merits of "Pat the Bunny". Suffice to say that I thought I could safely put away a drink or two and have no problem keeping up with class that evening.

I was wrong.

To begin with, it wasn't a drink or two. It ended up being 3 or 4 large sakes. Possibly a Sapporo or two. My recollection is a little hazy. What I do remember is being paranoid enough about my state of inebriation that I stopped at a nearby CVS for breath mints as I wove my way to class. I staggered in just as class was starting.

Tonight's discussion involved this book:


Eva

Here's a brief description from Amazon.com:

"Following a terrible car crash, Eva, 14, awakens from a strange dream and finds herself in a hospital bed. Medical science, in this book's future setting, has allowed doctors to pull her functioning brain from her crushed body and put it into the able body of a chimpanzee. With the aid of a voice synthesizer, she communicates with others and adjusts to her new body; because her father is a scientist who has always worked among the chimps (who have been crowded by the massive human population out of any semblance of a natural world, and into iron and steel jungles), Eva is comfortable with her new self. "


Sure. I'll be able to contribute coherently to this discussion. I did the reading. I think.

Let me just say that 3 or 4 large sakes prior to the course of a discussion that involves "Girl awakes from coma in the body of a chimp. And yet wackiness does not ensue." can be the difference between an "A" and and "A-" in grad school "Literature for Children and Young Adults".

And it was.

Wednesday, August 03, 2005

Intelligent Design



When I was in high school biology, the teacher was obligated to briefly cover creationism, in addition to evolution, when we got to the "Origins of Life" unit. However, she did it with a wink and a smile. We all knew it was perfunctory and laughable. We did it so the leaders of the religious right would remain focused on other compelling pursuits, like banging Jessica Hahn, and leave us alone. We put up with their silliness. This is why I find this article so disturbing:

Bush endorses "intelligent design"

Look, I understand that George W. Bush was a hardcore C student and former cheerleader who has Daddy issues. In a perfect world, he should have become a stripper. Instead, he's President of the United States. And this leads to:

"Bush compared the current debate to earlier disputes over ''creationism,' a related view that adheres more closely to biblical explanations. As governor of Texas, Bush said students should be exposed to both creationism and evolution.

The president said yesterday that he favors the same approach for intelligent design 'so people can understand what the debate is about.'"


What? What is there to debate? The Bible is not a textbook in a public school.

Am I the only one who thinks that just because you take creationism, wrap it up in a bow by new lobbyists and give it a new name that it's still crappy, fake "science" that treads dangerously on our seperation of church and state when crammed down the necks of public school students? (And, can I write a longer sentence? Probably.)

Look, Madonna can rename herself "Ester" for the sake of her "religion". She's still Madonna. She's still responsible for the abomination that was "Shanghai Surprise". "Intelligent Design" is still creationism renamed by the religious right for the sake of their religion. They're still responsible for the abomination that was "Bible Man".Bible Man!  Willie Ames's greatest 90 seconds since his honeymoon.

Some things should not be inflicted on the general public. That's all I'm saying.


Tuesday, August 02, 2005

Batman Beyond

I've been away from here too long. I will update you all shortly with vignettes of my escapades from this weekend. Clearly, I have been distracted from blog-dom and I hope to make amends. However, I will say that it was refreshing to wake up this morning and not have a visitor of some sort passed out on my couch.

And there's something about an unsuspecting passed out visitor, lying innocently in oblivion on your couch, that makes you want to do something juvenile like draw a penis on their face with a Sharpie like you did in college. Unfortunately, sometimes your visitor is your mom.

Anyway, tonight I stayed up entirely too late reacquainting myself with the Batman Beyond franchise. Paul Dini rules. I just got done with the episode in which he reintroduces Victor Fries. Damn. Awesome stuff. And, recently, I rewatched "Batman Beyond: The Return of the Joker". Anyone who doesn't think that this is the best Batman movie ever clearly either hasn't seen the movie or has some sort of bias against animation. I'm including the new Christian Bale movie in this. It's good, but "Batman Beyond" doesn't suffer from the incredible blackhole of suck acting that is Katie Holmes.

Well, before I descend into further fanboy ranting, I'm going to go to bed. With any luck, tonight I won't be awoken by weird nightmares where a live wire's been dropped into my bed and I find myself getting electrocuted and must wake up before my impending death.

We're going to hope for the best.