Tromp l'oeil!!

How's this for a crazy bathroom floor? Apparently this is painted......! I myself like to park it for a while (in the tub, of course, is what I mean!) with a good crossword puzzle, but I'm afraid this floor would be a bit of distraction.






A youtube post is supposed to appear below, biddng April a fond farewell, but it appears to be AWOL/MIA/SOL/SNAFU. Maybe it's like Santa Claus, the Easter Bunny and the Tooth Fairy; if we all just go to bed and sleep, it will have come when we wake up in the morning! I'm a believer!

I've been threatened--HELP

CR, next American Idle winner, has issued the following threat for my area:

He will make a blog.




He will post photos.




He will have revenge.


Uh-oh.

So she says.....

If I were to die and then return to life,
My life would belong to me in ways that it does not, now. I really can't explain why this is exactly, except that maybe I need catastrophe to put certain things into perspective. And what is more catastrophic than one's own death?

Nothing would bother me then!
Who cares what anyone thinks? I'd think.
Fuck you, I've been dead, and now I'm not!
And talk about color enhancement, and the way a breeze would feel, and the feel of skin, just think how beautiful skin and hair would feel and woodgrain and glass and rocks underfoot
Like combining the awe of a first experience with the relief of a flooded memory
Like the best orgasm you ever had, this unexpected resolution to all that you'd left un-solved....

I wouldn't tell stories. I'd be too busy being. The busy little being, just buzzing around smelling smiling aching arching knowing gnawing I wouldn't leave again without saying goodbye. I wouldn't leave again without living
my
life.

Last evening found me in a karaoke room in a Japanese restaurant, having been invited by Jennifer as her journalism class was celebrating......end of semester? the presence of beer on earth? hearing loss? What a wild crew, they! Whew!

Here's a photo of the principle players involved in the orderly side of the room:

rachel, ron, jennifer, amber, lisa

AMERICAN IDLE update

As most of you, dear readers, surely know, American Idol gets a lot of attention. I have never fully understood the draw myself, but I understand so little about this world, less and less, in fact, the longer I live in it. But that's not really our topic today. No, today I want to give you the heads up on American Idol's sister show, the lesser known but even more lacking in meaning, American Idle.

Let's meet our contestants.

Here we have Demarcus, a native of Detroit, who's come South for the winter to get away from the cold. He thought he'd have more energy once his blood started flowing again, but such was, unfortunately, not the case. Who knew that Georgia got so damned cold? Demarcus has a good chance of going on to Hollywood's warmer clime, as he appears to be doing little to nothing. In fact, it remains unclear whether he is entirely conscious of his surroundings.


Next we meet Willy Bob. He generally spends his days in front of the telly with a couple of TV dinners and a chunk of cake his mama has fixed him. Unfortunately, here he's caught red-handed having taken the initiative to drive down to KYFried for a bucket of the Colonel's best. Sorry, Willy. Too much activity. We're not feeling it. You'll be going home with your 12-piece extra crispy and quart of mashed pototoes.

Contestant #3 to the right is Christopher, a college student who should be hard at work studying for his chemistry midterm. Instead, he's perched on a wall, wondering whether college was really the right choice for him and whether he wouldn't be better off getting a job back home in Gray, GA, working for his granddaddy. He's pretty sure he'll fail chemistry, and those doctor dreams will be dashed to smithereens. What's the point in anything, anything at all? Good job, Chris. You're safe for another week.

Here we have three contestants. Marvin to the far left is doing an excellent job idling in place. We feel that he's chosen the right spot and posture for nursing an empty mind.

Jon in the middle though appears to be sending or receiving a text message. While doing so requires a minimum of activity and thought, we here at American Idle give more accolades for doing nothing. Jon is staring down the barrel of the bottom three. Sorry.

Burt, on the other hand, far right, hugs his torso with a sort of despair that bespeaks incredible ennui. While he had to hoist himself onto the wall, he shows little inclination to do anything else but sit there until he rots. Good work.

Tammy, below, however, looks to be trying hard for disqualification. We will comply. Not only is she carrying on a cell phone conversation (little matter that it is, like 99% of all cell phone conversations, about absolutely nothing, it is an immediate problem). In addition, she is looking around with an awareness that is not conducive to becoming an American Idle. Tammy, you're headed down that long road home.

To the right: Carlton. He too is looking round, but has

the look of utter boredom that is the

hallmark of past Idles. The idle hands

(the devil's workshop) might be a real asset

to him in the next round.

Sing Kim, while idling on the side of the road, is clearly only temporarily free from activity. How she can possibly feel that she is Idle material is a mystery. Out for a jog indeed! Sorry, Sing Kim; the fact that you HAVE a pulse to check is not in your favor. Better luck when you're older and less mobile. For now, though, immediate disqualification.

Next meet Mr. Delmonico, above. He was out for a walk with his "walker" but decided to give up the ghost and have a seat. Fortunately, his walker is also a sitter. Also working in his favor is the fact that he doesn't understand cell phones and is completely ignoring the piece of paper in his hand. And adding to his advantage yet again is the fact that this is NOT a bus stop but a mere stop sign. The message of the sign, in fact, lends a nice symbolic flavor to Mr. D's indolence.

***

However, while several of these contestants show potential, NONE is more of a frontrunner for idleness than one CR, spouse of world-renowned blogger, Buttonhole. His station in life has been established for years, as this photojournal will show:

Here's a shot from 1999. Lookin' good; lookin' REAL good.

Here he is in the late 1980's, upright but still, apparently, asleep.

This is the only photo we could procure with eyes open. Kudos on the bored body language and acute lack of interest in anything whatsoever. Circa 1985.

"Supine Position I, with Cat" 1988 (right)

Supine Position II, with Cat" 1984 (below)

And in New Orleans, a city known for its revelry and non-stop partying.

1997 (below)

Wish CR luck, folks, as he naps on the way to the airport and settles in for an extended nap on the flight to Hollywood to become America's next AMERICAN IDLE!!!!

Gay Weather Man vs. Cockroach

Girl, never mind that massive storm front that's about to eat Florida alive and banish it from the continent! What is that BUG????

Shutter Shudders

Earlier I was looking through a big box of photos and decided to scan a load of them. Here's a sample of some that I thought humorous. I think they're a nice contribution to the general absurdity of life, depicted through stance, clothes, and cars.


Here we have my brother by his Charger. He waxed it every day. So much that he literally waxed patches of paint off it. Check out the pants' length. A total hep cat. And if that term doesn't seem to fit the picture, well.....neither does he!

Here's Amber filled to the brim with teen angst and seething existential anger. Taken when she was 14, I believe, in a field behind the house in Bishop. Click to enlarge to get the full effect of the carefully crafted venom in her expression. And yes, that is an unfortunate shade of black lipstick she's sporting. Yes, yes, good times! Good times! Oh, and her outfit? This is during the Wear Dad's Old Clothes from College stage. All the rage.

And here she is earlier, sucking her toes!

Enter funky car I saw in Little Five Points, Atlanta several years ago. I especially like the mannequin leg glued to the side. The guys in the car saw me taking pictures (I've several), though, and were so angry about it! You drive a car like this, and I'm not supposed to look? haha

Family portrait by my uncle Roy's garden. My mother would like everyone to know that she doesn't belong anywhere near any goddamned cornfield. This was taken in her "heavy" stage, during which she popped those little unfortunately-named Ayds candies like they were going out of style (turns out they were) and joined a local exercise "spa" that had those "jiggle" machines that were supposed to "melt away the fat." Mmmmhmmm)

(Man, I wish I still had that shorts set, tho! Is that cute, or what? It was terrycloth!)

Untied

Imagine smelling a single rose from 20 feet away.

What does it feel like to be the ocean?

"She said she usually cried at least once each day not because she was sad, but because the world was so beautiful & life was so short." (by someone named Brian Andreas, apparently)

Muggin'

Hats off again to BlogHo-EastCoastStyle who every Friday sends me the Smoking Gun's picks of the U.S.A's best mug shots of the week.

And hats off to these two fine gents. Have tan lines ever been sexier??

More fun where they came from:

http://www.thesmokinggun.com/archive/years/2008/0425084mugs1.html

The Hostess with the Leastest

Early morning, and I set out to the store to procure cat food as I've 6.5 cats who couldn't remember their last meal (last night, round midnight) and who were convinced they would NEVER EAT AGAIN. Desperate. Pacing. Mrrrrling. So off I go. Publix, big bag of Iams in tow, I'm headed at a steady pace to the register as I have to be signed online to grade GRE essays at 830. When what do I see but a box of those little Hostess cupcakes, the ones with the OMG cream filling. Those things are haute cuisine, no ifs or ands. Butts, absolutely. That's where I got mine. (see my nekkidbutt, Exhibit D, bottom of page).

What stopped me in my tracks, though, was the box that advertised that these Hostess snacks were 100 CALORIES! And were in that box! Uncompromised taste! I had to try em.

Get home, sign on, settle in with coffee, open box of yummy yummy goody.

And wasn't I in for a surprise. You would not believe the SIZE of these new 100 calorie Hostess cupcakes. They're, like, M & fuckin M's. Abject disappointment set in, causing me to cram nine of them in my mouth to assuage my pain. You want pictures? I got pictures.

Exhibit A: Is this supposed to be some kinda joke? Because it is NOT. Funny.

Exhibit B: Here's another perspective. I've seen dimes bigger than this!

Exhibit C: Here the little fuckers are beside your standard-sized coffee cup.

Exhibit D: nekkidbutt

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Let's Check Today's Craigslist, shall we??

If you like this piece, I've got a full cat box that you might be interested in using as a coffee table. Twenty American dollar--you take home!


ENTERTAINMENT CENTER - $25 (ILA, GA)

THIS IS NOT THE GREATEST ENTERTAINMENT CENTER, BUT IS BETTER THEN NOTHING IF YOU NEED ONE. IT HAS PLENTY OF STORAGE, THE SIDE DOOR OPENS TO HOLD ABOUT 60 VHS TAPES OR ABOUT 100 OR SO DVD'S, BEHID THE GLASS DOOR IS THREE AJUSTABLE SHELVES, AND UNDERNEATH IS MORE STORAGE. THE BOTTOM AROUND THE FLOOR AREA HAS SOME WATER DAMAGE FROM THE CARPET CLEANER AND ALSO FROM AT ONE TIME CATS URINATING CLOSE BY! THE BOTTOM TRIM COULD BE REPLACED IF YOU HAD THE TIME.
YOU CAN CALL ME TOO AT 706-789-3502

Life according to Pater

"To live always with this hard, gem-like flame, to maintain this ecstasy, is success in life."

------Walter Pater, The Renaissance

Raking the Past for Clues

This weekend, the huz CR and I were thinking of people we'd known from the past to Google, as we have so little that needs doing around here and find ourselves just simply lost and casting about for meaningful activities. He suggested that I look up this unique character with whom he once played in a punky band which enjoyed its heydey in the 80's, so I did. (I also went to graduate school with the subject of the search. He always wore shorts with very wide legs and no underwear, and I inadvertently saw his ponytail on several unfortunate occasions. Plus he and his wife Sally were THE nastiest people on earth, bar none. Later, they divorced, and he went to Paris/Sorbonne to study dance, lying about his age.) But our search didn't show much about the guy; it did result in our gaining ingress to a web site within another band's web site with some old pictures of the band. Here is CR the huz on drums looking to be around 11 years old. Some chick he knew had talked him into letting her put a permanent in his hair, assuring him it would look fabulous. Oh, the things women will say to get what they want!

nearly golden

• sometimes I don't feel like talking


• usually when this happens, it's because I feel pain or worry or, the worst, nothing


• not so today. such a beautiful day. perfect. I stayed outside most of the day and got sunburned!


• which means (redhead) the process of pink then fade, or red peel fade


• oh well


• I've lost my gradebook. So I guess I'll put the first three letters of the alphabet (grade inflation, doncha know) in a hat and draw grades to see what everyone made.


• isn't that what life's all about, anyway?

Ciao, dahlink!!

Into the Woods

Absinthe Report: Preach On Preacher

Last night. Around midnight. Huz suggests we break into the green fairy. He bartended.
Spoon.
Sugar cube.
Water.
Rendering a cloudy liquid.
One big gulp and my arms felt like warm rubber in seconds. Some strong stuff, I'll have to opine, though were one a regular or heavy drinker, results may vary.
I didn't see God, but I did channel one of his earthly servants. Here's a video of me around 2 am showing how I turned into the Right Reverent Leroy Sims of the Lordy Mercy Baptist Church in Lavonia, Georgia. Can I get a witness???

Big Do at the Big House

~~~~~~~~mugshot~~~~~~~~

There's something about Quentarious........

whose favorite actress is..........

I don't get it...

Whut? Y'all ain't lovin my math text post? I thought you crew'd be all over that like white on rice. One recommending his OWN favorite math text; another disagreeing vehemently. First threatening to kick the second's ass. A third chiming in to offer her opinion on the quadratic formula...A fourth to take issue with the treatment of basic trig functions in my text. The first two rolling by in a tussle, center stage, and disappearing behind a curtain. A new person posting from Kuala Lumpur to tout a cookbook with measurements all based on the binary system....

that's how I imagined it, anyway....

i like

I know this is going to sound totally nuts, but I'd like to recommend an excellent math textbook for your reading pleasure. I am serious. This is a GREAT book. It was my math textbook in 7th grade, and it truly made me love math. I ordered it not long ago, and have not experienced one second's worth of regret.

and really, how many math books do you know that inspire this kind of passion?

Jacobs, H. Mathematics: A Human Endeavor. New York. W.H. Freeman and Co. 1982.

This isn't a math history book per se, but since it's the best math book ever written, I figured I'd include it. If you are reading this page, and you don't have this book, go and get it. Now. Borrow it from the library, buy it, whatever, just get it. It provides enjoyment and educational value for levels 6th grade through Fields Medalist. There is some math history mentioned in it too, but mostly it is a voyage through the various fields of mathematics, starting from scratch and working up to surprisingly high levels. Just open up to the first section, "Mathematical Ways of Thinking," and start reading "The Path of a Billiard Ball." You will soon discover that a) you want to keep reading, and b) you actually want to try the exercises. If you are going to teach a general math course, you should use this book. If you are going to an island for the rest of your life and can only take one book, take this book. Enough said. (http://mathforum.org/isaac/problems/bib2.html)

Absinthe Makes the Heart Grow Fonder

As Lactose can tell you, he and I have been on the prowl for some real absinthe since we met at Oxford and decided one night to hunt some down, to no avail. I believe he ordered some from Spain though was unimpressed, as I recall, by its purported revelatory powers.

However, getting out of a taxi in Rome a few months ago, I looked up and saw THIS place, and knew I had to go in. The shop had about 875 varieties of absinthe, but the gal assured us that a certain small bottle was absolutely the best.

Here's the bottle at home. As you can see, I sprung for the absinthe spoon as well as it made me feel all Verlaine-Rimbaud-fin-de-siecle Pa-ree'. I envisioned myself at home, languishing on the divan, sipping absinthe while composing symboliste moderne poetry and conversing about art, life, tragedy, tragic art and life's tragedies.

In short, I expected to touch the face of God.

Pish! I got a little drunk's all.

But tonight I had to go to Rite-Aid to get some Stuff, and walking through the parking lot to my car, the sun was setting just so and a shaft of light broke through a cloud and shone directly on a liquor store sign, Village Spirits. Since I very rarely drink, I don't find myself often shopping in liquor stores, but I thought what the hey, what have I got to lose by just looking around? Turns out $124, but other than that, what? No whiskeys or such for me ((shudder)), so I wandered over to the Cordials, Liquers, and Other Sissy Girl Drinks, picking out a new Bailey's (new to me, anyway) with a "touch of caramel," an Amaretto and a Frangelica. Figuring I was set, I trotted my purchases to the register. Near the counter were some small bottles for 8 bucks (always a sucker for those cute miniatures) whose label said something-- absinthe product. I asked if it were "really" absinthe; rockin liquor store dude said no (what, the spam of absinthe? made from absinthe by-products?) but assured me that the big bottle to my right was the "REAL THING." Lucid, it was, so I had to get it. Who can't use a touch of lucidity? The web site makes their product sound like the best thing since sliced bread. St. Anthony's Fire bread, maybe. Anyway, I snatched me up a bottle of the stuff, and if I don't hallucinate about black holes, backhoes, bloghos, and, bacon, I'm demanding a refund.

http://www.drinklucid.com/

And check this out. Holy Toledo!!! I couldn't decide whether Frangelica ended with an A or an O, so I typed it in, and look at this RECIPE I found for catfish Frangelica!!! I love catfish, and I like Frangelica, but........?

http://www.recipesource.com/main-dishes/meat/seafood/catfish/00/rec0008.html

I happened to notice this "selling point" on a bottle of powder today: "soft as a mother's love."

With that fact in mind, I think I'll just use this for an apres-douche freshen-up, thanks.

Help me, Jesus

From today's CraigsList:

My sister custom-made this coffee table for me as a Christmas present. The table is painted black with red rings on the bottom, also has a drawer for storage with two white handles. She drilled the 4 license plates into the top of the table. The table has a few nicks on it, but is easy to touch up with a little black paint.

This coffeetable makes me glad I don't have a sister.

In other news, BlogHo is back from Beaufort, SC. He done seen this on th' way up thar:

Been kicking yourself for missing the last Allendale County Cooterfest? Well, now's your chance. Come on down. Bring your own cooter or use ah one of theirs.

(Has my blog taken on a certain theme lately? I don't mean it to, honest bonnets)

High Windows

Philip Larkin

When I see a couple of kids
And guess he's fucking her and she's
Taking pills or wearing a diaphragm,
I know this is paradise


Everyone old has dreamed of all their lives --
Bonds and gestures pushed to one side
Like an outdated combine harvester,
And everyone young going down the long slide


To happiness, endlessly. I wonder if
Anyone looked at me, forty years back,
And thought, That'll be the life;
No God any more, or sweating in the dark


About hell and that, or having to hide
What you think of the priest. He
And his lot will all go down the long slide
Like free bloody birds. And immediately


Rather than words comes the thought of high windows:
The sun-comprehending glass,
And beyond it, the deep blue air, that shows
Nothing, and is nowhere, and is endless.



[truly, endings don't come much better than this]

....and speaking of hell.....

Here's one of my favorite takes on't:


"If there is, indeed, a Heaven and a Hell, all we know for sure is that Hell will be a viciously overcrowded version of Phoenix, a clean, well-lighted place, full of sunshine and bromides and fast cars, where almost everyone seems vaguely happy.....except for those who know in their hearts what is missing...."

------Hunter S. Thompson who else?

Cult-ured

Well, they showed you a statue, told you to pray

They built you a temple and locked you away

Aw, but they never told you the price that you pay

For things that you might have done.....

Have you seen the interviews with those mothers from the Yearning for Zion ranch on the TV? Really bizarre. Like Jesus automatons. All three I saw sounded EXACTLY alike. If I hadn't been watching them, I'd've thought the same person was talking. Slow speech, very wispy-airy little girl voices. Their tone was completely inappropriate for the content of their comments. They should have sounded angry, based on what they were saying, but instead came across as having just emptied a bottle of diazepam down their throats.......

No insights here. Just weirded out.

Hey 19...

No we can't dance together

No we can't talk at all...


I've papers to grade, and am not in the mood to do so, but I never am on Sunday. Or Tuesday through Saturday, and absolutely never on Monday. Anyway, in writing my response to a comment Minus Five made on the "April Inventory" post (not to be missed! in which I rip her a new buttonhole! Coming soon: the movie version--reenactment with actual actors-- direct to DVD!), I was thinking about the whole process of blogging in general and how making a blog started out as an experiment for me (and also as an "I will so and you can't stop me" response to several friends I have who HATE HATE HATE--direct quote--blogs and who made great haste to include me on their Contempt List alongside the Thighmaster, dog sweaters, Scientology, and potted meat. I knew I'd blog about the blog sooner or later.

But, I fear, later. The semester's end looms, and I must tend to my sheep before they wander into the haystack and fall fast asleep, or run away with the spoon, or break their crowns and come tumbling after.

And along with grading, I have to write an 800 word (minimum) bio! What dumb bitch teacher assigned this??? oh wait....I did. Yeah, students have to post their bios to the class web site, and I promised to post mine as well. Oh, how I wish I'd not!......just more work! They have to post a photo of themselves, and someone suggested that I post a photo of myself at their age. So I chose this one.

It's Official..........

.......the weather is really weird.



Look at this weather report BS. Someone needs to answer for this!!!


FROST AND SOME FREEZING TEMPERATURES EXPECTED EARLY NEXT WEEK... A COLD FRONT WILL EXIT THE STATE THIS EVENING...WITH UNSEASONABLY COLD TEMPERATURES TRAILING BEHIND IT. HIGH TEMPERATURES IN NORTH GEORGIA ON SUNDAY WILL ONLY REACH THE 50S...AND MAY NOT EVEN RISE OUT OF THE 40S ON MONDAY. THESE TEMPERATURES WILL BE 20 TO 30 DEGREES BELOW NORMAL FOR MID-APRIL. A FEW SNOW SHOWERS MAY ACCOMPANY THE UPPER LOW SUNDAY NIGHT AND MONDAY .... A THREAT OF FREEZING TEMPERATURES AND FROST OVER PORTIONS OF NORTH AND CENTRAL GEORGIA. MINIMUM TEMPERATURES TUESDAY AND WEDNESDAY MORNINGS WILL HOVER NEAR AND EVEN BELOW FREEZING...ESPECIALLY IN FAR NORTHERN GEORGIA. LOW TEMPERATURES EACH OF THESE MORNINGS COULD DIP AS LOW AS THE MID 20S IN THE NORTHEAST GEORGIA MOUNTAINS TO THE LOW 30S AS FAR SOUTH AS COLUMBUS..AMERICUS...AND DUBLIN. VEGETATION SUSCEPTIBLE TO FROST AND MILD FREEZING CONDITIONS MAY BE IMPACTED BY THESE UNSEASONABLY COLD TEMPERATURES. RESIDENTS OF NORTH GEORGIA SHOULD PREPARE FOR THE POSSIBILITY OF FREEZING TEMPERATURES SEVERAL MORNINGS EARLY NEXT WEEK....WITH FROST POSSIBLE ACROSS CENTRAL GEORGIA TUESDAY AND WEDNESDAY MORNINGS

Goodbye, dogwoods!!!

Farewell, azaleas!!

Not to mention the nearly $200 worth of flowers and such I bought this week! Sigh.....

april inventory

Aside from the matter of orgasm assistance and the overall male perpective, this just about sums up my attitude toward and philosophy on academia.........

April Inventory

by W. D. Snodgrass

The green catalpa tree has turned
All white; the cherry blooms once more.
In one whole year I haven't learned
A blessed thing they pay you for.
The blossoms snow down in my hair;
The trees and I will soon be bare.

The trees have more than I to spare.
The sleek, expensive girls I teach,
Younger and pinker every year,
Bloom gradually out of reach.
The pear tree lets its petals drop
Like dandruff on a tabletop.

The girls have grown so young by now
I have to nudge myself to stare.
This year they smile and mind me how
My teeth are falling with my hair.
In thirty years I may not get
Younger, shrewder, or out of debt.

The tenth time, just a year ago,
I made myself a little list
Of all the things I'd ought to know,
Then told my parents, analyst,
And everyone who's trusted me
I'd be substantial, presently.

I haven't read one book about
A book or memorized one plot.
Or found a mind I did not doubt.
I learned one date. And then forgot.
And one by one the solid scholars
Get the degrees, the jobs, the dollars.

And smile above their starchy collars.
I taught my classes Whitehead's notions;
One lovely girl, a song of Mahler's.
Lacking a source-book or promotions,
I showed one child the colors of
A luna moth and how to love.

I taught myself to name my name,
To bark back, loosen love and crying;
To ease my woman so she came,
To ease an old man who was dying.
I have not learned how often I
Can win, can love, but choose to die.

I have not learned there is a lie
Love shall be blonder, slimmer, younger;
That my equivocating eye
Loves only by my body's hunger;
That I have forces true to feel,
Or that the lovely world is real.

While scholars speak authority
And wear their ulcers on their sleeves,
My eyes in spectacles shall see
These trees procure and spend their leaves.
There is a value underneath
The gold and silver in my teeth.

Though trees turn bare and girls turn wives,
We shall afford our costly seasons;
There is a gentleness survives
That will outspeak and has its reasons.
There is a loveliness exists,
Preserves us, not for specialists.