Rockin Rollin Passacaglia

Feelin' Mean

These ladies were on the front page of the Athens paper today under the headline "Jackson County Breeders Arrested." The text (and online headlines) reveal that they were arrested for dog breeding infractions, of course, but I like my original reaction to the news: that they were arrested for their intention to procreate.

My husband is convinced that they're lovers. He's probably fantasizing about a threesome. The one on the left is 34; the one on the right just ripe for plucking at 25. (!?!?)

What's up with You Guys and this menage a trois thing, anyway? The first person to provide a satisfactorily logical answer to this mystery wins a conjugal visit with one or both breeders at the Jackson County, GA Jail!

Shopping for the Home

If you're like me, you're constantly on red alert for ways to clear out some of that pesky cash you have cluttering up your living space. Leafing through a magazine in the doctor's office yesterday (post-op re-check), I ran across a small ad in the back showing, in one photo, a flyswat and a journal. The text read "Leather Flyswat and Journal." I found this to be one of life's sweeter pairings. I had to hear more, so I jotted down the website: http://www.colonellittleton.com/. Today, I remembered my note and visited. Grave disappointment swelled as I realized the ad must have pictured the two together as a spacesaver; they are actually sold separately.
But I like the idea of a Flyswat Journal: June 2--"dear diary, I slammed three of the buzzing fuckers today, splat!splat!splat! let's see them come zzzizzzing around my big glass of sweet tea again soon! ha!" June 4--"the Shell No-Pest Carcinogenic Strips seem to be working well, though my swatter's a little lonely..." June 30-" w/ the No-Pest Strips banned by the EPA, I'm back in action, slinging flies and guts all over creation with my trusty alligator skin swatter!"

Yes! Along with the leather swat, an alligator swat (backed with Italian calfskin) enjoys availability. For $310 you can be swatting in style. Comes with a nickel silver engraving plaque on which the colonel will be happy to brand your initials for an additional nine bucks. Ask yourself if you're the kind of person whose flies deserve any less!












On the more practical hand, this piece will serve as a perfect cat hutch, storing up to six cats in one convenient location with a sunning deck on top.

blog sinister

this post is entirely left-handed.
if you get the pun, congrats. if not, no worries.

my blogging will be truncated and less frequent until my dom hand is up and thrashing about again.

on the other hand, the night/sky wrote a poem last night! did you see?

It's a Good Thang

Marriage of Martha Stewart gingham and Bubba wall decor.........

interested in a purchase?

http://athensga.craigslist.org/fur/577988769.html

(the aluminum ladder to the left also makes a fne alternate piece de resistance!)

Onanism: Two Stories & a Song

First, the stories:



Story 1
A class action lawsuit brought against Target in 1989 (they settled, $2M) alleged that the personality tests the company used to identify The Perfect Target Employee were a gross invasion of privacy and that certain questions had little or no bearing on one's potential industry.

Check out some of the T/F questions that were on the test:

I believe my sins are unpardonable.
I am very attracted to members of my own sex.
Evil spirits possess me sometimes.
I have no difficulty starting or holding my bowel movement.
I enjoy masturbating.

Let's examine the "holding my bowel movement" statement. Can we really say that the inability to hold a BM has NO bearing on one's on-the-job performance? Take a moment to consider the consequences of NOT holding, and I think one might reconsider importance of holding. They could have a motto, maybe on the name tag? "Holding My BM// Holding My Job." Eh, that might need a little work...

But the one on masturbation is my fave. When I first heard about this lawsuit, my understanding was that the question was "Do you masturbate?" Which seems like a fair question, no? I mean, management has to put the customer (= $$) first here! It won't do at all if customer service is compromised while a long line forms at the register........and you in the restroom, cranking out O's!

But I see now that "DO you masturate?" is not the question but instead the test demands the wannabe Targetworker assess the statement, "I enjoy masturbating" as either true or false.

Brilliant.

Isn't this great?? Very much a "do you still beat your wife? yes or no?" situation. For if one goes for "false"....why, what a sad fucker you are! Talk about a bad lover--You can't even please yourself! (Remember Jocelyn Elders, the Surgeon General who was asked to resign within hours of suggesting that "masturbation be taught in school." I shudder to think of THAT lesson when I think back on some of my high school teachers!!! Gah!)

On the other hand, if if you choose to go with "true," you'll be admitting to both the gratification and its enjoyment, which, as we all know, is an unpardonable sin.

Story 2:
1990
or 91. it's aweird weekend.
julia and i drive to atlanta, hang with andrew donaldson a bit,
have lunch. andrew's band mercyland is playing at the point
in little five points that night
so he has to leave to set up.... j and i
we're going to the show
but she's first arranged to visit some old guy in his late 40's
~~ 17 years ago 40's looked like a far-off field~~
you've got to meet this guy, she said. he's weird as hell
bizarre
she met him during her agnes scott years.
and all i remember:
he called himself sky or maybe with an e
and sold ponchos blankets from patagonia
[[the one in argentina]]
at a sidewalk shop, virginia highlands.
we find his house, where we'll stay the night after the
mercyland show, andrew too////
sky's so small,
he has(probably)a skimpy beard,
(maybe)he has thinning blondish(most likely)hair.
glasses for sure.....it's all a bit effete...
or sexless like a doll. odd since sex is all he talked.
but not the way of most.
he first offers a cup of hot tea,
which we accept,
we settle outselves,
then sit with sky on the sun porch
while he talks his details his life
and stuff, then says to us
he'd been practicing tantric of late
with much enthusiastm----
no seduction, this sky is just a
conveyance of info, like he'd tell us about
a new diet soda: sky had learned:
5 short thrusts, then one hard long
six small then, again the long
and hard,
then seven thrusts......then up to ten.
it all sounded so horrid
a way to have sex,
to me,
like trying to memorize the periodic table while fucking then he says say ladies! what do you know.
all this tantric talk has me horny i do so want to masturbate. .
. . and would you ladies care to join ?
,, same breezy tone ,,
like he'd asked if we need more sugar for the tea.
we both said no, no thanks, we're fine
and so he left the room
we sat and sipped our tea till he returned.
i might have leafed through a book.
whatever
happened to sky, his whispery voice and tantric thrusts
over
all these years.
the next morning julia andrew and i went to church services at the first existential church of atlanta http://www.firstexistentialist.org/
i'd insisted on checking it out.
i had no idea most existentialists were lesbian....
at least by the looks of things.....
and highly demonstrably affectionate ones at that--
the church of the pda
the two women in front of us looked to have about ten arms combined,
they petted and groomed and snaked their hands
about each other's terrain.
i remember andrew hadn't showered
his rock and roll sweat......so
hungover
in church
and holding my breath.

....and a song

Who Nose?

My best friend in third grade, Kaye, came to school one day with a resplendent story. Seems her cousin, a mere second grader, had had to have surgery. He'd been having headaches and complaining that his nose was hurting him. His mom,thinking he might have a sinus infection, took him to the doctor, who discovered that the young lad had an object lodged in one nostril. X-rays were taken. The cousin was questioned. He cried bitterly and eventually broke down and confessed that he had, out of curiousity, pushed a butter bean up one nostril "to see what would happen." Well, what happened was that the butter bean, happy as a butter bean in the warm moist environment of Kaye's cousin's nose, sprouted. Afraid to mention the vegetable garden growing up his left nostril for fear of a spanking, he kept quiet until the pain became unbearable. He was sort of our hero for a while. It's not every day that dawns on such bravery.

So I would expect, based on my admiration of the nasal garden, to be more impressed by this fellow who has seen fit to thread a snake through his nostril and out his mouth.....Yet something about it just doesn't quite work for me. The snake seems pretty put out by it as well.

Though I did know a kid (named Kelly...I only knew her for a day; she was from Tennessee but was visiting a neighbor) who could hold her nose really tightly and.....somehow....I don't understand how......could make bubbly saliva come out her tear ducts.

Have you ever heard of such a thing?

Adagio cantabile

Freddy Kempf owns the 2nd mvt of the Pathetique. This is absolute perfection.

Being arches itself . . . over the vast abyss
Ah the ball that we dared, . . . that we hurled into infinite space,
doesn't it fill our hands . . . differently with its return:
heavier by the weight . . . of where it has been.


~~~~~~R.M.Rilke

Just in time for V-Day

...though you might want to check first just to make sure you have the correct "V". . .



http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/sfo/540076210.html

(thanks to KJ for this righteous link)

Childhood is Over...

. . . when you find yourself super excited over the arrival of the Dyson DC17 "Absolute Animal" vacuum you ordered online last Thursday. . .

Ruby sure appreciates the box, though.......

The Ultimate, the Universal Ash

* * *

"People can always be brought to the bidding of their leaders. All you have to do is tell them that they are in danger of being attacked and denounce the pacifists for lack of patriotism and exposing the country to danger."

Would you be surprised to know that the author of this quote is Hermann Goering?

* * *

Ce soir

Din-din

with Kyle and Ken

at the Five and Ten

This Epic Chant

"Ours, the scientists keep telling us, is a universe which is disposable. You know it might be just this one anonymous glory of all things, this rich stone forest, this epic chant, this gaiety, this grand choiring shout of affirmation, which we choose when all our cities are dust; to stand intact, to mark where we have been, to testify to what we had it in us to accomplish. Our works in stone, in paint, in print are spared, some of them for a few decades, or a millennium or two, but everything must fall in war or wear away into the ultimate and universal ash: the triumphs and the frauds, the treasures and the fakes. A fact of life… we’re going to die. ‘Be of good heart,’ cry the dead artists out of the living past. Our songs will all be silenced - but what of it? Go on singing. Maybe a man’s name doesn’t matter all that much.”
~~Orson Welles, F for Fake

Spacious and Rumi

This is love:

to fly toward a secret sky

to cause a hundred veils to fall

each moment.

First,

to let go of life

Finally,

to take a step

without feet.

~~Jalaluddin Rumi

Classic Seens

The local newspaper used to have a Sunday column called "Classic Seens" in which some society maven cum writer would find hoity-toity scenes involving the local glitterazzi desperately holding onto their wineglass stems for dear life and smiling their frozen hysterical smiles.



I'd like to bring that column back to life, but with more of a Flannery O'Connor sensibility of the absurd and the grotesque.

-----

This guy's got balls. He really knows how to accessorize a pick-up.



This week Amber, her paramour Dusty and I ate lunch at a newish restaurant, aptly named Fatz. You are what you eat. At first, they look fairly happy.

Then the food comes. Amber has ordered a chicken salad sandwich. Is uh that what this is??? Is that a rotary propeller?

Dusty orders a burger. Here's the menu description of same:

"Fatz Onyum Burger
Now that’s a big burger! A half-pound of seasoned Angus beef covered in a spicy sauce and stacked high with Fatz signature Onyums, lettuce and tomato."

Stacked high is right! These folks have a problem. Here's a photo of his "onyum" (a heinous pun, that!) tower.

Remember that "spicy sauce"? Yeah. Well. It had been squirted down the chute of onion rings. Appetizing? I'll let you decide.

I'm sorry, but this looks like one of those photos taken of an internal organ with a micro-camera!

(Thanks again to Amber R., truck testicles photographer)

En Route to Work

I wondered what those hard flinty things were.



Last time I passed over Hell Road on the way to somewhere else, I mean.

COINCIDENCE???

....or just a wildly popular ceramic giraffe???

YOU DECIDE!

Check it out:

http://montgomerymaxton.blogspot.com/2008/02/fire-giraffe-wet-dog.html

AND.......

sunday sum-up

Thanks to alert reader and blog-enhancement assistant Josef who, on a jaunt to Miami Eff Ell Ay this weekend, teleported me this photo, live, via satellite, showing some strongly worded (and yellowly highlighted) rules taped to the LADIES restroom door. Looks like Georgia's little peninsular pal is having some trouble with educating the fellas on who the he and who the she and where they pee.



In other exciting news, I went to Atlanta last night to attend Larry's play with Denis and his consort Jim. The same Jim, yes, who had a $50 gift certificate that he wanted to use at the Cheesecake Factory, so check us out there at the CF, before the play. Of particular interest is Denis's ability, based on sheer willpower, to puff himself up three times his normal size. There he is: in the middle, doing his puff'n act. Then when he exhales, if someone doesn't hold onto him, he'll flap in circles and spirals, flying and skittering all over the room before coming to limp landing. Only sometimes he pops, and that's a mess too.

Here's another version of the same post, showing an artist's rendition of what we might look like inside the Fiery Furnace.

Is this a cool pic of Jim or what? What one might envision when imagining a mug shot crossed with an hallucinogenic.

I've felt blah-ish all weekend, as if my body just won't quite commit to a sore throat, aches, fever, but forget it either.

And my hand(s) ache a lot. I had all these fancy tests and whatnot at the hospital to determine that i have carpal tunnel in my right hand; surgery on that is set for feb 19. Part of the muscles in the heel of my hand have already started to atrophy.

But then my left hand started hurting too, but in a different way. As illogical as it sounds, I ignored it for a while because it didn't make sense BOTH hands to hurt for different reasons. The left hand is much sharper pain, and there's even a swollen knot to go along with the pain, where my thumb muscle meets my wrist or thereabouts. So I take about four extra strength arthritis BC powders a day and now I think I've an ulcer.

My husband, though, always knows just what to say to make me feel better. His knack for empathy is truly magical. Seeing me taking yet another of my "powders," he offers encouragement followed by suggestions for improvement: "Your surgery's coming up in a couple of weeks--I sure hope it helps.........Just to make sure, though, why don't you just get them to chop those hands off and get a couple of hooks?"

He knows how to dream big.