Jenny Miller | Heck's Kitchen Pantry, 2005

06.24.05
Today I make my annual pilgrimage to my hometown, for Comfest, and its attendant goings on. The Community Festival began in 1972, when a bunch of hippies converged in a parking lot to trade bumper stickers, get high on drugs, and drum circle the night away. It's changed some, but it still supports itself entirely on beer sales. Which makes it the largest not-corporate-sponsored music festival in the country. And means you're required to drink beer, for Comfest.

Every year of Comfest comes with it's own commemorative beer cup. In the event of divorce, beer cup collections can can be traded for pets or children. So don't get all fucked up and leave your cup somewhere. Also, it's legal in Columbus for us to take our shirts off, thanks to the hard work of a pack of lesbians in the mid-nineties.

S.Lyon says, "Some of these are quite practical." A Hint He Can't Refuse, John Kelly. "You'll recall that, spurred on by my younger daughter (whose snorting, eye-rolling reaction to Heloise's more banal hints is common at our breakfast table), I invited readers to compose their own tongue-in-cheek Heloisiana." Also, this awesome news from Ms. Lyon, Muppets Statler, Waldorf review movies. Says movies.com VPDan Sherlock, "It strikes a chord of nostalgia with our target audience, 18-34, who remember the Muppets very well. After all, who could forget Statler and Waldorf?" Who indeed?

From Marla: "an enormous success story: notice this screen shot... and then notice the breaking news banner on
the top of the screen."

06.23.05
The Truth on the Hillary Lesbian Flap, Tina Brown. "Maybe it's a secret fantasy of girl-on-girl action that makes Ed Klein obsess about Sen. Hillary Clinton's supposed lesbian ethos in his new book "The Truth About Hillary." It's hard to know what else he has to draw on. Yelling "lesbian" at powerful heterosexual women has always been the pathetic projection of the menaced male, but it's especially baffling in Klein's case."

06.22.05
Attention Unicorn Lovers! That means you, Dave. Behold Unicorgy, c/o Shauna. The New York Times has declared the death of Gaydar: Gay or Straight? Hard to Tell, from Underblog. Ha ha. It's illustrated with a picture of Adam Brody/Seth Cohen. "With more gay men dressing down and straight men flaunting their looks, gaydar has been rendered as outmoded as Windows 2000." Psh. Whatever, on both counts.

Last night I was at Five for the Summer Solstice Happy Hour & Celebration™. There were in abundance: thatched roofs, hammocks, small dogs (some wearing clothes), strawberry daquiris, lesbians, joints. Roomie Maegan spun drum & bass, and I think I met a bunch of Brazilians. A good time was had by most, if not all.

Ed's in the office today, suffering the A/C. Subject: staying warm. Message: Why is the world run by fat men?

06.21.05 The Longest Day of the Year
Damn, work sucks this week. My job made sense until Friday, when everything I do changed thanks to this new fucking software that's been foisted upon us. Now nothing works and it takes forever to not do it.

Dave on the Fem-O beat: "Female orgasm is like a sweet oxycontin buzz?" Women fall into 'trance' during orgasm. "The key to female arousal seems to be deep relaxation and a lack of anxiety.....The experiments also revealed a rather surprising effect: both men and women found it easier to have an orgasm when they kept their socks on."

Marla on the crazy beat: "time for 'a good lawyer.'" 'Possessed' nun crucified after row with priest. And Underblog on the insidious gay agenda - in Montgomery County, Teens' Take: Sex Is All Around Them. "Citizens for a Responsible Curriculum and Parents and Friends of Ex-Gays and Gays, argued that the condom video would encourage teenagers to have sex and that allowing teachers to discuss homosexuality might send the wrong message to those confused about their sexual identity. What's more, the groups said students should also be taught that people can choose not to be gay."

i'm spinning at club five tonight. and you should totally come because it's going to be a swanky rooftop soiree. and because it's free. the details:

junebullet 6pm-7:30 (drum'n'bass)
other people 7:30-midnight, or thereabout (house, dub)

06.20.05
I super hate my job today. But here's me, Hoozer, and Uncle Bobby in Huntington.

Ranger Ted's little brother is living the life we're supposed to be living. Writes he, "Hey, I was in Venice, Italy for 10 days. It was great! All kinds of stuff happened. I took a bunch of pictures and made an ugly website. love, joel."

From S.Lyon: "better than the 3-eyed fish on the Simpsons..." Part Male, Part Female, Fully Mysterious: Dual-Sex Crab Found in Bay Could Yield Clues to Species' Genetics and Mating Habits.

CONS:

grief, failure, regret
worrying about dying alone
no cuddling
social schedule all fucked up

PROS:

all of my clothes are in one place
no love or sex to distract me from my very important work
sad songs more applicable to life
these extra few feet in my bed

I'm going to West Virginia for the weekend. With Bob, for a wedding. I'm not sure what to expect. Will people have meth teeth?

*ADDENDUM from JHotdish: "You should change it from 'meth teeth' to 'meth mouth.' it just sounds cooler. Even though it's nast. But it's fun to say 'meth mouth.' jacob and I have been using it lots lately (there was an article in the times last weekend).

Jacob: 'If you keep on drinking so much coffee, you're gonna get meth mouth.'
Jaime: 'Yeah, well if you keep on drinking Mountain Dew and eating Mr. Softee after lunch each day, you're gonna get meth mouth.'"

06.13.05 - mostly pictures of me edition.
S.Lyon, Shauna and I went to Ocean City, with 10,000 strutting, half-naked, barely-legals, all trying to get laid. I was glad not to be one of them.

With our Skee-Ball winnings we purchased three sets of hillbilly teeth. Resulting in the ugliest/funniest photograph of S.Lyon ever taken. On the right is a pothead. More pictures tomorrow.

Dirty Gay Stuff:
WEDNESDAY NIGHT - LeMay's says, "you may want to go to this june 15 event featuring my dear friend amelia ross-gilson, also known in george bush's circles as miss indigo blue." Miss Indigo Hosts the DC Girlie Show with Kitty Victorian! 10:30 pm at Chaos.

THURSDAY NIGHT - Lez Zeppelin, by Dave Dunlap, CP
I have rocked with some tribute bands in my time. I barely escaped a singeing by the fire-breath spewing from the fake Gene of KISS Army. I did a round of shots with an ersatz Hetfield between sets of his Metallica trib, Battery. However, one of my dearest near-stardom experiences involved Dazed and Confused at Archie’s Rock & Roll Cafe, a strip-mall purgatory in the suburbs of Memphis, Tenn. The band looked and sounded like Led Zeppelin. The only chink in the armor became apparent when the set list got into the late-’70s keyboard-heavy songs: Imitation John Paul Jones apparently had limited skills. Suddenly, the fake Plant pointed into the audience and shouted "Look, everybody! It’s the guy from the cover of Led Zeppelin IV." And there, amid the pitchers of Bud Light and half-eaten plates of hot wings, a berobed hermit emerged and wound his way through the small space before taking his place in front of the synthesizer. No disrespect to the five gentlemen of Dazed and Confused, but there may be a new contender in the running to be my tribute-band crush. Lez Zeppelin has taken the au courant approach of an all-female tribute band (witness Cheap Chick and AC/Dshe)—somehow even managing to capture the longhair look of real-deal Zep. I volunteer to be the ladies’ personal red snapper back at the hotel room for the requisite post-show shenanigans. That is, if they’ll have me. Something about the name tells me otherwise. Lez Zeppelin plays at 8:30 p.m. Thursday, June 16, at the State Theatre, 220 N. Washington St., Falls Church. $14. (703) 237-0300. (David Dunlap Jr.)

Here is a sad/awesome song. Just for you! The Weakness in Me, Joan Armatrading.

06.10.05
Last night a knife fight broke out in the Cowals' kitchen. Rebecca and I were arguing about Brian Peppers, and the next thing I knew we were diving for the knife block. I won, but sometimes when you win you lose, you know? In Rebecca's case, she lost an eye. Sorry, Rebecca. Then Shauna made some homemade apple juice, and the crowd dispersed to the porch.

Let's consider Peppers' case more closely. If you examine his youthful yearbook photos, you can see that something wasn't quite right about him from the beginning. (Edward disagrees, but he's wrong). Still, BP's smiling, because at that age children will often care for the disfigured and retarded. It's not true that kids are always cruel. Does his early disfigurement necessarily mean he was mentally handicapped? Rebecca pointed out that the face and brain "are only like an inch apart" and probably are somehow connected.

I posited that around the age of 13, things began to change for BP. He probably began to realize no woman would ever make love to him. In fact, no girl would probably ever willingly touch him at all. Even a randy teenager has enough natural selection instinct to recognize that Peppers is no candidate for creating successful, attractive offspring. His ascension to the Lucas County Sex Offender/Child Predator list was probably quick.

dc's very queer night of house/techno/d'n'b
a nice alternative to all the pride weekend mess.
at the black cat backstage
free 9:30-2:00 all ages
i'm spinning 12:45-2:00

an alternative fashion show...kinda like project runway but without parker posey going nuts in the judges chair. oh, and hula hoops. there will be hula hoops.

market 5 in eastern market 7th & north carolina ave. se
doors at 8 show at 9 $7-10 donation at the door

Kristina adds, "Come out for a night of beauty and sexiness in all its fabulous forms. Tearing at the Seams will feature local diy designers, visual artists, dj's, burlesque, bellydancing, drag kings, spoken word, hip-hop, body painting, hula-hoopers, and a performance by DC's very own Hott Beat.

Tearing at the Seams is a collaborative project that deconstructs mainstream notions of beauty and style. This is a night for underrepresented folks of all shapes, sizes, genders, abilities, cultures and experiences to celebrate themselves on the runway and the stage!

Proceeds will benefit Different Avenues, a local non-profit organization that provides resources to youth who are homeless or living in insecure housing in DC, many of whom are transgendered, gay, lesbian or bisexual.

06.09.05 - HAPPY BIRTHDAY BOB!
Last year I wrote you a poem. This year I'll probably hit you up for money.

Last night Dave and I sat on the back porch and read books. He finished Sperm Wars, which is making him drop phrases like "mating success" and "evolutionary imperatives" and the like into conversations about, say, what's for dinner. He lent it to me. Apparently there is discussion of duck gangbangs.

'There are always going to be critics of women's boxing. We've been taught that women should be protected. A lot of people don't like women fighting, and I can understand that. But it ain't going to stop the show. I'll tell you one thing. A lot of those men who have something to say can't whip me.'

Meanwhile, I finished Holy the Firm, by Annie Dillard, who I like very much, in spite of Holy the Firm. It required the use of an atlas and dictionary, and probably marijuana. However, Dillard is great. You can read her entire account, Total Eclipse at that there site. She also wrote The Living, an awesome historical fiction epic set in the Pacific Northwest, which I read when I lived out there. It includes an incredibly disturbing sheep-fucking-murder you will unfortunately never be able to forget. AND she has about the most unexpected official website I've seen.

Live, from Washington, DC, On Undercard, an Outspoken Boxer Named Ali, nytimes. Good lord, Laila Ali is smokin. And mouthy. "[Erin Toughill] really believes that she can beat me," Ali, the current champion in two women's boxing weight classes (super middleweight and light heavyweight), told a roomful of reporters and fans in the Blackburn Center Ballroom. "That makes it all the better for me. When you actually get to break somebody's heart, it makes it that much better. When you can break their ass and hand it to them, it makes it all the better."

TONIGHT, the witty AND artsy Ms. Rachel Cox is having an opening! She writes,

Just wanted to extend a warm invitation to you all to come out to Bedrock Billiards on Thursday, June 9th to celebrate a show I'm hanging there.

It's art. It's fiiiiine. It's fine art. You might say this is a quarter-life retrospective. Take THAT, John Currin!

Bedrock Billiards
1841 Columbia Rd, west side of 18th St., across from Habana Village.
6pm-?

More from Marla on the Bullshit Beat: Zoo to feature creationism display. "Tulsa Zoo exhibit curator Kathleen Buck-Miser estimated it would take about six months to research and organize the exhibit. She expressed qualms about the zoo delving into theological debate. 'I'm afraid we are going in the wrong direction,' she said."

Why can't we get rid of Jessica Cutler? Because Robert Steinbuch is all embarrassed about being into spanking. *yawn* I'm sorry I brought it up.

06.08.05
Certain lessons I have to "learn" over and over again. My dad just told me a story in which he "learned" the same lesson last month, again, that I am about to tell you, which leads me to believe I might actually never learn this lesson at all. The lesson is, do not drink on an empty stomach. First, you will lose your car keys, which is probably a good thing, since you are in no condition for driving. Second, you will need to be rescued, and upon rescue you will not be very charming. You will probably regale your rescuer with boastful tall tales, while not being able to tell him where the hell you left your car. Third, you will get very, very lost driving home. You will be on the Wrong Side of the Anacostia River in your convertible, late at night, blaring soft rock hits of the '80s, and calling everyone you know to inform them of how fucking lost you are. Hours later you will arrive home, eat a veggie dog, pass out, and wake up feeling really, really special.

You will hope you didn't do anything TOO stupid, but you will probably be wrong. Then you'll write all your friends, to make sure you still have some. You'll demand they tell you are still a respectable member of society. Bob writes,

Will you just look at this lead? D.C. Gay Clubs' Vanishing Turf: City Earmarks Block of O Street SE for Stadium. "As midnight approached, a trail of men filtered into the movie theater to watch X-rated gay movies and eye each other in a warren of dimly lit lounges. A few steps up the street, a half-dozen men danced nude for a barroom crowd, while next door a female impersonator known as Ella Fitzgerald sashayed down a staircase in a brunet wig and a glittering blue-and-red gown."

You know what? I am not crying for the loss of this gay ghetto shit. That paragraph sounds like last century. Bring on the fancy new stadium, please.

And Dave Waterman, noble rescuer, on the orgasm beat, says "More than 10%, that's good odds!" Female orgasm is 'down to genes'.

Finally, to all you Google searchers through the years, there are, at last, naked pictures of me on the internet. But you'll never find them. Bwahahahaha!

Finally finally, a very sad follow up to yesterday's turtle instructions. From SSB, Girl, 6, killed by car while trying to save turtle "FORT MYERS, Florida (AP) -- A 6-year-old girl darted into traffic to save a turtle and was killed when she was hit by a car, officials said." Stupid Florida.

We grilled right through the giant thunderstorm, then watched the Pistons beat the Heat, and then I couldn't sleep for four more hours. So I got on LimeWire and downloaded a hundred songs. It became an exercise of association. Here's a bunch of stuff.

06.06.05
Despite my efforts to mope, I had an awesome weekend. For one thing, it's summer. Which means baking on the porch roof with the George Jones book, the Champagne of Beers, and sundry girls and boys. And grilling. And walking around the neighborhood in the dark when the power goes out. And driving with the top down. And being in a general daze. The clear outlines of Monday are so different. They say, snap out of it and try to remember what your job is! That's what I'm doing right now.

And now a public service announcement from a friend of Ed, finder of small animals.

Turtles on the road
Hey- Now is the perfect time for females turtles to be migrating to egg laying sites. I've noticed this past week an increasing number of turtles (especially snapping turtles (Chelydra serpentina)) migrating across roads. If you see a turtle crossing or about to cross a road, I ask you guys to take that one minute to pull your car over (after all this is an emergency!) and grab that baby up and take it across to the other side. This one act could save the life of an individual who could be up to 35 yrs old. The loss of one female turtle can be devastating to a population- especially with all this human encroachment. I've seen people intentionally hit dinner plate size or bigger critters. So please give them a hand. To grab up a snapper- keep your hands away from the shell and mouth (you can lose a finger)- go up behind it and grab it quick by the tail near the end- it does not hurt it. It'll likely turn its' head and snap at you- just keep it held out away from your body. Don't drop it if it snaps at you! It can't reach you if you have the tail. Walk it across to the other side of the road (that's where it's going, so it'll just go back there if you don't take it all the way across). Drop her carefully and move hands and feet way. Thanks. Save a turtle life. =)

"Another Florida gem," from Marla on the Florida beat: Feds Bust Fla. "Slave" Labor Camp. In other news of extreme stupidity, Supreme Court: Medical Marijuana Use Criminal. Fuck you, cancer patients! It's not all bad, though. Panel Strikes Down Va. Abortion Ban, which is awesome, cuz I'm like six months pregnant. This is an issue I worked on a lot when I worked for the Planned Parenthood lobbyist in Olympia. This fucking bill did not even include a provision to allow emergency abortions in the event that the mother's life was in danger. Uh, how is this not about hating women?

06.03.05
At midnight I'm going to see DISCO DOLLS IN HOT SKIN - 3D. This is how little I value my time.
Synopsis: A dominatrix, a Swiss psychiatrist and others are connected by a mysterious note swallowed at an orgy.
Director: Norm de Plume
Cast: Mike Ranger, Serena, William Margold, John Holmes, Suzy Wong
MPAA Rating: X Run Time: 1hr 30mins
Release Year: 1976 Country Of Origin: United States

My officemate, corey, has a roommate who teaches third grade. That roommate gave a writing assignment that asked students to imagine being invited to the white house to meet w/the president. Corey dictated this one to me.

This is from a story we ran about a new system that monitors everything students eat so that parents can check and see if they're getting fat. I want you to read this because it's so weird the way this mother puts this thing.

06.02.05
Here's what goes on at my house. Santa mom gave me Party Animal for Christmas. Party Animal will not take no for an answer. I don't know if Party Animal really loves Ernie, or he's just in it for the hot puppet on hamster sex. Either way, we were too busy laughing to help. Speaking of, my dad, Julie and I saw a duck gangbang at the reflecting pool last weekend. Duck butts stacked atop each other. Mallards are cheapads.

Yesterday I skipped my company's required diversity training for the third time. I'll be in trouble. It's called Ensuring a Respectful Workplace. I just don't wanna go. I don't like minorities. There's a bunch of them already living in my house. What the fuck? Besides, who wants to be the one homo in diversity training? Not this one.

I just don't have shit to say lately. I guess you keep coming to chatter on the zonkboard. Or you think I might post the pictures from the EmHo nude photo shoot 2005. Well, I might. You'll just have to keep coming back, won't you? I know you through and through.

I watched this race with my dad and Julie and I'd never been so fucking excited about a race ever! Wow! Dave and Matt went. Pics by Matt, Dave reporting....

Danica is the Womanica!

by David Dunlap, Jr.

For most readers of this site, the world of auto racing may seem to represent the worst aspects of our consumeristic, petrocracy. Only a red-state dwelling mouth-breather would want to watch people turn left for 4 hours. It's an undifferentiated blur of crass commercialism, phallocentric technolust and cornfed piety. They are Promise Keepers glazing their ruddy faces with Hooters hot wing sauce. They are grown men with stickers of Calvin pissing on Chevy/Ford/Osama. Hell, NASCAR dads elected W!

True, true, but then along comes Danica Patrick to make the whole thing seem a little more interesting. There is a reason that she debuted in the Indianapolis 500 and not the Daytona 500. The Indy Racing League, for all of its faults, isn't quite as irritating as NASCAR. For instance, every continent but Antarctica was represented by a driver in the 89th running of the Indy 500. Every

NASCAR driver for the Coca Cola 600 (sponsorship, argggh!) is from the good ol' USA. No minorities. No longhairs. Hell, NASCAR fans still hate on Jeff Gordon because he came from California and talked all fancy-like. Indy is practically a Benetton ad when compared to the lily white "purity" of NASCAR (although Matt did have fun playing "Spot the black guy" at the Indy 500). David Letterman owns an Indy team. Joe Gibbs is a NASCAR guy. 'Nuff said. The Indy league is a more welcoming place for Danica (she's already passed Mia for first name recognition!).

I saw the pioneering Janet Guthrie race in 1979 and I saw Danica race in 2005. It's a completely different story. Guthrie was viewed as little more than a novelty. She was never a threat to the rest of the field- "It wasn't her fault, she didn't have the proper equipment" I boneheadedly remarked recently. Danica was driving one of the better cars in the field. Some were so threatened by her that they began squawking about her perceived weight advantage. That's funny. I don't remember that coming up when the jockey-esque Gordon Johncock beat the egg-shaped cowpoke A.J. "Beef! It's what's for Dinner" Foyt. On our way to the race this past Sunday, I even heard some radio commentator say that there would be no way Danica would have the stamina to even finish the race. So, which is it, boys? Is she unfit to drive or does she have an advantage? I got goosebumps when Mary Hulman George uttered the awkward phrase "Lady and Gentlemen, start your engines!" Of course I was also moved by Jim Nabor's rendition of "Back Home Again in Indiana." I was worried that Danica would crack under the pressure. She had done more than a 100 interviews in the previous week. She was under a microscope that no driver in the history of the race had ever been under. Every mistake she made was newsworthy.

Overwhelmed by emotion, I almost began to tear up (perhaps it might have 6 cans of Busch and 6 White Castles in two hours coming up on me). I was worried that the crowd would be hostile and that I would be complicit by association. I worried that she would wreck and every asshole misognynist would be justified. For the first part of the race, she really held her own. on the 56th lap, she made history. That alone should have justified all of the hype. And to my relief, the crowd went nuts for her. People seemed genuinely thrilled. Then came the stall in the pits that moved her from 4th back to 16th. No big deal, Buddy Rice, her Rahal/Letterman teammate, did the same thing and still won. She maintained her poise and steadily climbed back into single digits. Then with about 45 laps to go she wrecked dring a yellow caution lap. She was forced to pit to replace the nose and wing. She made another stop under the yellow flag and her crew topped off her fuel tank and gave her four fresh tires. In a strange way, this accident helped her. It is ultimately what allowed her to finish the race without another pit stop. Danica took the lead again on lap 172 (out of 200) when the leaders had to make a pit stop. She made a great pass against ultimate winner Dan Wheldon and ended up leading the next twenty or so laps. Every time she came around the track (they complete the 2.5 mile loop about once every 45 seconds), the crowd squealed and hoisted their cans of domestic beer up to the ever-darkening skies. I clutched poor Matt's shoulder every time, muttering "she doesn't have enough fuel to finish" under my beery breath.

As everyone knows by now, she didn't win. She even ran out of gas on the last lap, but still managed a very impressive fourth place finish. Millions of dollars were spent on cars designed to beat her. Three drivers rode the shit out of their cars to beat her. Not because she was a woman, but because she was a serious threat, because she was very fucking close to beating them and getting the prettiest bas relief mug ever on the Borg Warner trophy. This wasn't Billy Jean whooping Bobby Riggs. It wasn't the US Women's Soccer team beating China (it was just fucking soccer, after all). This was as close to gender equality as sports has ever gotten. Does being pretty help? Sure, but who among us isn't strongly influenced by a pretty woman's face on an hourly basis? There will still be dumb jokes about Danica- "I bet she was tempted to drive to a shoe store during the race" was an actual "joke" told on sports radio, but hopefully they will be remaindered to where they belong- Hooters restaurants and churches.

This is a good one, sent by Wendy and Bob: Watching New Love as It Sears the Brain, nytimes. "New love can look for all the world like mental illness, a blend of mania, dementia and obsession that cuts people off from friends and family and prompts out-of-character behavior - compulsive phone calling, serenades, yelling from rooftops - that could almost be mistaken for psychosis."

The Bozeman Beat, "A spider monkey was reported walking along Huffine Lane. Deputies were unable to locate the animal."

Female Orgasm: Proof Of God, Mark Morford, SFGate. Science can't explain it, evolution can't understand it and men can only lie there in awe. "Women have orgasms because they can. Women have orgasms because it's the right thing to do. Women have orgasms because by and large they refuse to launch monstrous ultraviolent illegal soul-deadening wars over oilsucking phallocentric powermad landwhoring BS powergrabs and therefore they fully deserve all the inexplicable otherworldly cosmically infused clitorally energized pleasures they can get."

Google: nudie girls
Google: Photos of gypsies in prisons
Google: rid lawn of crayfish
Google: courtney cox in her pink dress from the longest yard
Google: fuck in kitchen
Google: joan jett cherie lesbian
Google: oc season end classical funeral
Google: FIELD KITCHEN CAR
Google: jenny naked bathroom
MSN Search: hot girls scrrewing
Google: the article about the reasults of early marriage
Google: My best friend's hot mom Mrs Lott

05.26.05
Ed checks in from his much cooler job this morning. "I was stepping over the dead cedar in the top left of this picture [below] and nearly stepped on this little guy." Damn! And speaking of TCO, meet Numo.

ENVIRONMENTAL REPORT: I'm all for less packaging, but if you are an o.b. tampon user, we are in different flow leagues. If I walked into the bathroom with an o.b., I'd walk out looking like I'd performed a home abortion. Or ripped someone's heart out. You know what all the blood's for? It's for your uterine lining. Mine is penthouse quality. Should some proto-baby ever move in there, he'd probably never come out. Remember Jelly Bath? That's how plush those digs are. If the dam broke would you try to stick a cork in it? No. Ok then. If I were a dude, this post would be about my dick.

BURLESQUE-A-PADES!
featuring The World Famous Pontani Sisters, Todd Robbins, Dirty Martini, Corn Mo, Trixie Little PLUS The Evil Tap Dancing Hate Monkey... with live music from The Fisherman Xylophonic Burlesque Orchestra!
Time: 7:30 PM
Cost: $16.50

GIRL FIRDAY!
it's almost june but it doesn't feel like it....but that's okay we're still gonna drop it like it's hot at girl friday this week. we'll be bringing you a mix of all our favorite spring fling beats. everything from old-school hip-hop to dance-punk to electro to indie-disco. 10pm - 2am, $5 all ages, black cat backstage. with original first ladies...

EDGEPLAY: A Movie About the Runaways

last night, my beloved matthew surprised me with a copy of this film, which i have been frothing at the mouth about since i heard about it. i tore the wrapper off with glee, imagining that i was, in fact, tearing an 18-year-old joan jett's sweaty midriff tee from her lithe body... whoa! back to the review.

first, this film has nothing to do with "edgeplay" of any kind. i thought i was gonna see, like, the go-gos porno or something. oh, well. yet this film still delivers on several levels: yep, cherie was doin' both joan and sandy. her review of joan: "she was goood. real good." of sandy: "sandy wasn't half-bad either!" that's IT?? i'd like to point out here that they don't even show the infamous cherie currie bush shot--just her face in that pic! (see me for said bush shot. i keep it under my pillow next to my laminated prayer cards.)

also fantastic is a gracelessly aging lita ford, who sits on a beach chair in jams clutching a cup of what i imagine to be tequila, gruffly recalling girlfights about noxema. i think lita is related to me, as she acts exactly like my aunt carolyn at a ballgame. joan, however, is nowhere to be seen except in japanese concert footage (i guess she's too busy doin' le tigre), but even those few glimpses made me want jump up and down on the furniture screaming about how i don't give a damn 'bout my bad reputation. she declined to be part of the film, and also has a stranglehold on the rights to all the songs, so there's a lot of suzie quatro, but no runaways songs. doh.

also, the ladies all seem to hate one another to this day, which is sad. the interviews are all conducted in different settings, and they never appear together. there is lots of crying. at one point lita laughs at a band member's post-abortion suicide attempt. we learn, too (in case we didn't know already), that svengali kim fowley is a pig-fucker. a genius, but an abusive slimeball.

all in all, the film was sort of depressing, in that i always imagined the runaways as a band of feminist superheroes, but they were really just scared teenaged girls who got taken advantage of and turned against one another. but good god damn did they fill out some silver running shorts!

05.24.05
What do you do when you're feeling crazy? If you answered, go to a folk/rock show, alone, then you might be me.

MINUTES FROM LAST NIGHT'S MARTHA WAINWRIGHT SHOW
8:08: I have a problem. I cannot be late. So for normal things, I'm on-the-dot on time, and for things like parties and shows I'm waaaay early, because musicians are high have no concept of "on time." So, here I am, very early for the opening act. The biggest problem with going to shows alone is there's no one to save your seat. I consider buying two beers for this reason, but a) I'm already by myself, and don't want to look more pathetic, and b) that will not solve the problem I'll have later when I have to visit the ladies' room.

8:15-8:50: I read the entire City Paper. Rebecca's gallery is a Pick, as is our current book club author's reading. Shauna must be ruling City Lights with an iron fist. CP says Return of the Sith, wooden and humorless; Mercury Rev, silly and substanceless. I believe everything they tell me. During this time I also text Bob (thrice), and Ed. Oh, there's a woman I know! Wave. Unfortunately, she doesn't like me.

10ish-11ish: Ms. Wainwright's set. Pretty awesome! Great band. Most of the pics of Ms. Wainwright you'll find were obviously from before she'd settled into New York City. Now she's bottle blonde with roots, hair teetering on the edge of feathered. She looks pretty rock and roll. She keeps losing her pick, but in a very charming way.

Here are two songs I grabbed last night: Don't Forget, live, with Rufus, and G.P.T. You can play songs at her site, too. I recommend "When the Day is Short."

CONVERSATION WITH MY SISTER
ME: You know those people who say they never dream, or can never remember their dreams?
JESS: Yeah..
[silence]
BOTH: I don't trust those people.

After the Dream Flying chapter of my Dreaming for Dummies book, will be the Time Traveling chapter. Please submit your dream flying and/or time traveling anecdotes to me, for future fame.

Speaking of crazy, Check this crap out! Brought to us by Martini, who writes, "This came from a friend - whose apartment will very possibly look like this in another 10 years."

05.23.05
I hate when I forget about Wonkette. "Thank You for Holding and Opposing Gay Marriage." Rebenga writes, "do you know about united american technologies? i vaguely remember knowing about their weird merger of long-distance service provision and anti-homo crusading. here are some pranks placed to their operatives to check out just how committed they are to gettin' rid of the fags." I guess we'll win by a million tiny victories, like, Gay greeting cards bring pink pound to high street shops, from AstroF, across the pond.

BOOK CLUB REPORT: Babyji author Abha Dawesar, live at 7th St. Olsson's, on Thursday at 7.

The quality of this space has fallen dramatically, from a not very high place to begin with. Sorry about that. My routine's been off. We'll get back up to speed soon. Thanks for playing.

05.20.05
My mom and stepdad's oldest friends documented all of wedding weekend. 81 Mandy Wedding Photos.

If wedding pictures aren't your thing, try U.S. Condemns Saddam Underwear Photo. From Marla. More later. Need lunch. Here are pictures of my mom talking.

05.19.05
I am playing both myself and my manager today, so I am about 300 times busier than usual. Which is too bad because I'VE GOT A LOT TO SAY TODAY. Instead I'll just post a few wedding photos. More are on the way. I'm also going to post a few inches of random text here, to get the slideshow below the fold. Say, did you know Caleb died on The OC? Did you know tonight is Taco Night/The OC Season Finale? Yes. Also at the Emerson House: we have roses. Also, last night the nerdsome of me, Dave, Ed and Rebenga watched What the Bleep Do We Know? a sort of New Age, quantum physics docudrama starring Marlee Matlin. It was bizarrely entertaining. I am busy rewiring my brain today. Ok, time for pictures.

05.18.05
I'm back, a new woman. Florida: much loved, much hated. O, Florida! Land of inherent duality, much like the crazy Pisces - two fish attached at the tail, swimming in opposite directions, always at cross-purposes with itself. It's stripmalls and sprawl and rednecks, but also delicious heat and exotic, tropical awesome stuff everywhere. Natural Florida looks like dinosaurs should be walking around. Beachy Florida is white hot and blue, and chicks in bikinis. Open container? No problem. Boob job? Why not. You heard it here first - Florida, recommended for vacationing and retiring.

Today's update is brought to you by Rebenga. Rebenga's art in the masthead, and an HK Exclusive: Rebenga reviews the brand new Sleater-Kinney album! And bonus, a track! Steep Air. Give it up for Ms. Lowery...

live notes from the new sleater-kinney record

last night i downloaded the new sleater-kinney record (it comes out next week. which means that i have finally been successful in joining the current millennium and learning to 'file share' - which they did not make me learn to do in kindergarten). i'm pleased to report that so far it ("The Woods") is a real face-melter, full of serious fuzz, a la early '90s mudhoney and the like (in an evolved way). it begins with the lyrics: "on the day the, duck was born the, fox was watching all alone, he said, Laaaaand Ho!" ye olde sleater-kinney road, olympia, washington.

ye olde sleater-kinney road, olympia, washington.

i'm inclined to like any song about animals and the pecking order. though i'd hazard a guess that this is not, in fact, what the song is "about." oh shit, now i'm hearing cowbells! the onion horoscopes once informed me that i don't have time for any so-called "rocking" songs that do not feature cowbell clanging. they were right!

"let's call it love," the next-to-last song, clocks in at 11:01 according to my little jukebox counter. which is a good thing so far, because corin tucker is right now doing her bestest robert plant yowl, and it's outrageously hott! 3/4 of the way in to the song, it's devolved into this all-out psych freak-out. these girls are not fucking around. they've assumed a serious power-stance and you'd better get off this train if you can't handle the ride!

Awarded: The "Wait, They're Capable of That Kind of Critical Noise?!" Award. excellent surprise!

Speaking of The L Word second season finale, Brian waxes on "the popularization and commodification of nerd culture," or name your subculture: Don't Panic. Ok, it's really a review of The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy, which was also a big deal to me in middle school, handed down from my dad.

05.10.05
Yay. My romance comics archive got mentioned at BoingBoing. I wish I'd known we were going to have so much company. It's a mess. Oh, and at we make money not art. Shucks. Wait, there's more. Care of Tacky Times, which picked it up from Bibi's box. Which got it from growabrain. Wow, Internet 101. Thanks, Eric, and for comparing the spread to "a high school mono outbreak."

BY NO PARTICULAR DEMAND! Party photos to make everyone cringe. Let's see...we had a freakish pinata, busted up by Shauna and Marla, the arty ice sculpture, the booze distributing ice sculpture, the totally legal tobacco gravity water pipe demonstration, the dance party that seemed hot before we saw the pictures, and the fortune telling tent, staffed by Anisha and Ed. There are many, many photos, but those won't surface until someone tries to run for public office.

From Ms. Marla, Bizarre Sex Habits of The Extreme Right-Wing. "Last night, anti-abortion extremist Neal Horsley was a guest on The Alan Colmes Show, a FOX News radio program. The topic was an interesting one - whether or not an internet service provider should allow Horsley to post the names of abortion doctors on his website. Horsley does that as a way of targeting them and one doctor has been killed. In the course of the interview, however, Colmes asked Horsley about his background, including a statement that he had admitted to engaging in homosexual and bestiality sex."

I'll be gone for a week. I've put a photo of myself in the mast, in case you forget what I look like. I'm the one in the middle with the hair helmet. Don't forget to write.

05.09.05
Called my mom yesterday and said "Happy mother's day," and she was all, "Oh, yeah," because she forgot because my littlest sister's wedding is Friday and last night they were throwing her third shower before the wedding - the "lingerie" shower, which I'm glad I missed, because buying sexy underwear for your 19-year old sister as part of a family-sanctioned event like that seems so weird. I live up here so my other sister has been having to do all the wedding work down there. Haha. On Wednesday, though, I'll wake up in Tampa and be put to work myself. After all the work there is rehearsal dinner, ladies' tea, manicure, hairdoing, and bridesmaiding. A very normal weekend for me.

My mom told me about my table at the wedding. Here it is from a Jennycentric perspective:

05.06.05
The time draws nigh when your daily issue of Heck's Kitchen will document the progress of my perennials. Tea, backgammon, work, weight loss regimes - no topic will be too boring for consideration in this space, sometime... ..sometime not too far away. But we're not there yet. It's still taco nights, carnival parties, and titty bars for now.

Brian's on a hot streak over at Bears Will Attack. Please see Girls, Girls, Girls for Mr. Bear's impressions of his first time at the dollar ballet.

I've been to some fun strip clubs, and some gross strip clubs, but Brian and I appear to agree on the most important point about strip clubs: they are not hot. Naked dancers are ok. Looking at a stripper is something like looking at an interesting bird. But less interesting than an interesting bird. And more naked. Another thing about strippers is they always want dollars, which becomes pricey, though finding places to put your dollars is sporting. I would say going to a decent strip club is kind of like going to an expensive zoo, which would be pleasant and amusing, except for one thing: the guys at the strip club. Not all the guys. But enough of the guys are as serious as serial killers, obviously disturbed, or getting a lapdance right next to you, which is nothing like hot. Also, there are a lot of rules at the strip club. You have to go with an experienced guide. Such as Matt. Because you can't just sit anywhere, or walk anywhere, and you can't stand next to the stage with a beer in your hand, and you're definitely NOT supposed to touch the ladies, though sometimes, when you're on your way to the bathroom, the ladies do not extend you the same courtesy.

Some days, the best part is driving to work. I'm afraid it's going to be one of those days. It's beautiful out, and Rock Creek Park is flowering and green and not yet choked with kudzu, as it will be in about a month. Also, no one's emailing me.

From S.Lyon: Texas House to cheerleaders: Don't shake it. An interesting little column by George Will: The Christian Complex. And, Giant Looks More and More Like a Dinosaur. "Department stores, broadcast TV networks, Chevrolet, Hechinger, Life magazine, mall bookstores and all too many daily newspapers have, like supermarkets, held on to the idea of the great big middle for dear life, only to find that customers have fallen in love with the quintessentially American idea of high-low."

E: Your honor, we had electrodes on their testicles! Chimps know that's wrong! I'm guilty! I feel horrible! I was wrong!

J: Quiet down Private, let the grown-ups talk now. We'll have you home for supper.

ANALYSIS OF AN EXTREMELY VIOLENT DREAM
Early in the dream I was a P.I. on a case. I recall a stakeout and a dame¹. Somehow I got caught by bad guys, and was stuffed into a crate full of Chinese babies. I may or may not have tried to eat my way out*. The babies dispersed, and I was in a holding pen guarded by a half-man/half-fox creature². I attacked the guard and a long and disgusting fight followed. I finally got ahold of him by both ankles, and swung him between two fence posts until his head was crushed to a bloody pulp. After that I kept swinging until he'd been completely decapitated³. I think at some point he begged for his life but I was out of my mind, apparently†.

I escaped and was now a fugitive. I arrived at a house full of peripheral relatives, and now the motive for the murder changed into something else. Some of the people in the room knew I'd done it, and some did not. They had the mostly-liquid head of the man-fox in a clear, plastic 1-liter bottle**. I had to hide the evidence. I grabbed the bottle and started running. My dad and sister were chasing after me on my motorcycle. They chased me down an alley but I flung myself down behind a garden, and when they passed me I jumped up and ran the other way. I was really panicking, and at this point I drank the bloody head substance, and then threw the bottle down a sewer. Then I woke up freaking out.

¹BWA's Revenge of the Box-Headed Gunman.
*Edward's party idea, to fill a room with cotton candy and let people eat their way in and out.
²the book I read two weeks ago
³last thing I read before sleeping last night, about great white sharks: The Devil's Teeth. "The killing took place at dawn, and as usual it was a decapitation, accomplished by a single vicious swipe."
†I'm a little bit angry about my friends getting beat up.
**draining Libby's Triumph tank into non-gasoline-approved containers.

NOW FOR SOMETHINGS LESS GROSS:
"The Orbs in the Sky," says S.Lyon, from Short Imagined Monologues, at McSweeney's.
thinking inside the box, at no home-like place
bizarre cat and dog picture, from Les.
Thunder Thais and Bassethounds, from Ranger Ted. "Bigger is better when it comes to female beauty, or at least it is at the Miss Jumbo Queen pageant in Nakorn Pathom province, Thailand. The title for heaviest contestant, Miss Jumbo Universe, went to Thanchanok Mekkeaw (left), who tips the scales at exactly 400 pounds."

05.02.05
Hello, welcome to Monday. How's your cube? Mine's cold and windowless but apparently suitable for code monkeys.

Things you can't take to school anymore:
large burritos
throwing stars
bazooka joe
trombones
pencils
carrots
bomb pops

Get your world famous S.Loffman-designed Feminists are HOT...and Bothered! tshirts at VIF's cafepress store. Guaranteed* to get you laid or your money back.

04.28.05
Yes, it got ugly last night when instead of The OC we got President Smirky smarming right through the hour. He can't even leave Taco Night alone. Post TV critic Lisa de Moraes speaks the truth: The President's Preemptive Strike "One by one the broadcast networks caved yesterday and agreed to preempt the first night of the May ratings race to make way for President Bush's non-news conference, after 'Sopranos-style arm-twisting' by the White House, as one network suit described it. Here's how it went down..."

Bison attack Marlyand exurban country club.

My week has pretty much sucked. And my friends got beat up by some Israeli thug outside the Israeli embassy, when they took exception to his SUV being parked in the motorcycle spots, and he took exception to uppity lesbians pointing out our parking laws. I guess I shouldn't comment on a case or investigation or whatever. Except to say, I hope those felony assault charges help out with your residency issues. Dick.

Goings On:
Reminder, Saturday is Family Day at the Corcoran, by Dr. Sallypants; Saturday night is DJ Rehka and Elament at the Black Cat. And next weekend: Shauna reports: "miss kitty victorian's burly girly 101 workshop on burlesque may 7, 11 a.m. to 1 p.m. at chaos! every time i go see these peeps perform, i swear i'm gonna do it 'next time.' who's getting partially nekkid with me? (it's women-only. thpppth, male horndogs.) they say to wear a button-down shirt so you can 'doff it' with ease when pastie time comes. c'mon guys! drunk at 11 a.m.! carny party to follow!"

04.27.05
S.Lyon says, "make me look like julie cooper-nichol."

"apparently, next year the stylist for the O.C. is launching an "O.C.-themed" clothing line through amazon.com. the line will feature 12 distinct looks, based on characters from the show. i can't wait to see how they determine 12 distinct looks. will they consider kirsten's ever-present glass of chardonnay an accessory?" She adds, "how creepy is it that their little nieces and nephews want to dress like Marissa? it's called 'age-appropriate', people."

Ms. Lyon may be skeptical, but I'll bet you lesbians all over America can't wait for the Seth Cohen Line. Especially me. Please see my hastily thrown together photo-sidebar, "Seth and The L Word Dictate Lesbian Fashion."

EXCLUSIVE SECRETS OF O.C. STYLE (pg. 44) INSIDE TV sneaks into the closet of the head stylist of TV's most fashion-forward show since "Sex & the City" - Karla Stevens of "The O.C." Stevens talks for the first time about her new line of O.C.-inspired clothing, which will be available online next year for all Mischa Barton wannabes. "Our little nieces and nephews would come up to us dressed just like Marissa or Summer or Seth and say, 'How do I look? Have I got it?' We knew then that everybody wanted to look like somebody on the show," she tells INSIDE TV.

Here's a poem from Shauna, who says, "by someone i wish was my friend, local poet richard peabody." (Not this Richard Peabody, though he seems fun, too.)

Attachments
There's a tangerine rotting on my desk.
I should probably throw it away,
but I've grown accustomed to the shape sitting there.
Besides, I like the way it smells.

This may or not be of any interest, but, our friend Caryn works for Senator Robert Byrd (D-WV), and I have agreed to join their office softball team, the Capital Hillbillies. But check out the Republican laden schedule. That Frist's is Dr. Field Good makes me feel a little queasy.

May 10 – The Ohio Killer Nuts (DeWine and Voinovich)
May 24 – The Mississippi Mudcats (Lott and Cochran)
June 6 – The Argyle Sox (Snow and Collins)
June 11 – The Prairie Dogs (Conrad)
June 17 – The Shuckin' Oysters (Vitter)
July 6 – The Academy (Not a Senate office, and not too sure who this is)
July 12 – Dr. Field Good (Frist)
July 20 – The Searchlight Miners (Reid)
July 26 – Homerun Security (Dept. of Homeland Security)
Week of August 14 – The Kanak Attack (Akaka)

04.27.05
The Mystery of Hollywood's Dead Republican, nytimes. LOS ANGELES - ON the morning of Saturday, Feb. 26, a day before the Academy Awards, the actress Carrie Fisher woke up in her Beverly Hills home next to the lifeless body of a gay Republican political operative named R. Gregory Stevens.

DJ Rekha is your coolest Punjabi auntie. When you go to see her, she doesn't say, "Why haven't you come before?" or "When did you stop dancing to bhangra?" or even "How long are you planning to moon over M.I.A.?." Instead, she pours you mango lassi in a steel glass, and hums a blood-curdling lullaby about a boy whose hair came down to his knees; when your eyes grow droopy, she hands you a pamphlet about how that boy's great-grandson grew up and came to New York City to drive a cab only to vanish into a detention center. Then she unties a thick bundle of vinyl from the end of her sari, and pulls you down to her basement. It's too dark for you to see, but you make out myriad sweaty arms and legs and think you hear Andre 3000, Punjabi MC, and maybe even wheat growing in the fields of Punjab. "Oh yeah. Bhangra still rules," you realize. What, you don't have time to go say hi to your coolest auntie? (Bidisha Banerjee)

This morning I gave blood and it was accepted, despite the fact that I've taken Advil in the last 72 hours, got tattoos in prison, and repeatedly exchanged sex for money and drugs since 1977.

My questionnaire was more strenuous, and the extraction less enjoyable, than last night's home sperm donation by my friend and yours, "Manuel."

A LESBIAN BABY IS MADE

What a weird night it was last night, dear. Oh my. So, what happened was they showed up egregiously late, which I was pissed about until I got a neurotic call from Jane apologizing frantically. During this time, karen, shawn and craig made fun of me ruthlessly, taking full advantage of the moment to make every possible beat off, erection maintenance, lesbian baby joke they could think of. This was pretty funny. I drank wine and smoked pot. J&B showed and, after high-fiving Bonnie, I went into my bedroom, managed to finally quit giggling, looked at porno on the internet, and masturbated into a little dish around the edges of which I had written the inspirational messages "spooge (just add egg)," "the bastard child of 1,000 maniacs," and "USA." Then, I used a syringe with a long, skinny humming bird nose on the end of it to slurp all the sperm up. Jane and Bonnie went into my bedroom for about a half an hour, wherein Jane laid on the floor and Bonnie helped her get all the goo up in her. Apparently, none oozed back out. then we sat around giggling, making bad jokes, and I had switched to whiskey left over from the party. A protocol to leave after such an event had not yet been established, so eventually I told them that there was no need to sit around in the afterglow w/me any longer, at which point they went home, Bonnie to plan her lessons for tomorrow, Jane to incubate and look over a friend's comp lit paper. I watched old buffy episodes.

04.25.05

Today I wanted to talk about The Fall of Public Man, by Richard Sennett, but turns out I'm in a bad mood and don't want to talk about anything. I'll try for an afternoon update.

04.22.05 - EARTH APPRECIATION DAY
Take time to pet the roses and sniff the bunnies before the bad guys lay waste to everything that's pretty or good. "Bush's energy bill contains: $8.1 billion in tax breaks, mainly for big energy companies; permits oil drilling in part of Alaska's Arctic National Wildlife Refuge; and provides legal protections to producers of the gasoline additive MTBE, which is blamed for contaminating drinking water." There's the essence of your Grand Old Party, people.

GUEST BARKEEP ERIC "UNDERBLOG" WEBSTER PRESENTS:
HOW TO MAKE A GREAT BLOODY MARY

Just in time for the weekend. Particularly refreshing after motorcycle-wrenching and or gardening. Here is the recipe with some illustrations.

7-8 oz Clamato;

3 oz. Vodka (I like old-schoolin' Stoli™);

heaping 1/4 tsp. coarse ground fresh horseradish;

Gentle dash Lea & Perrins Worcestershire Sauce (Heinz is worthless);

Several good shakes black peppa

At least 4-5 good shakes of Tabasco, cause hardly any comes out.

Ice cubes to fill glass;

Dill pickle spear (I prefer Claussen™).

Optional secret ingredient: splash of pickle juice.

On the Porch: A Sitting Precedent. "There's no moment more sublime, more refreshing to the spirit, than the opening of Porch Season." wapost.

"A living planet is a much more complex metaphor for deity than just a bigger father with a bigger fist. If an omniscient, all-powerful Dad ignores your prayers, it's taken personally. Hear only silence long enough, and you start wondering about his power. His fairness. His very existence. But if a world mother doesn't reply, Her excuse is simple. She never claimed conceited omnipotence. She has countless others clinging to her apron strings, including myriad species unable to speak for themselves. To Her elder offspring She says - go raid the fridge. Go play outside. Go get a job. Or, better yet, lend me a hand. I have no time for idle whining." ~David Brin

"Climb the mountains and get their good tidings. Nature's peace will flow into you as sunshine flows into trees. The winds will blow their own freshness into you, and the storms their energy, while cares will drop off like autumn leaves." ~John Muir

04.21.05
A conspiracy of animal-gods, the animal-gods who rule the Personal Entertainment sphere, got together and conspired to keep me from viewing the latest episode of The L Word. First, all my friends with Showtime either switched to Deadwood, went to L.A., or attended the Handsome Boy Modeling School show, which no one enjoyed. Second, someone lent us a tape, but it was broked. Third, playing with my motorcycle has been prioritized. Just last night a brake cable was installed, and several people, me not among them, survived some very unsafe Bitty operating. I'm happy to report all my housemates are alive, if not quite well.

Anyway, we are lucky to have two L-Word recappers in the business: AfterEllen.com's Scribe Grrrl and Kathy Belge, proprietor of Lesbian Life. Lesbian Life has a glossary, so you no longer have to wonder what a Pillow Queen is. You may or may not be one or date one. Rebecca Knows What She Did: A statement released by Jenny's publicist said, Rebecca went somewhere pretty, so I didn't get to watch The L Word.

Rebecca Knows What She Did: A statement released by Jenny's publicist said, Rebecca went somewhere pretty, so I didn't get to watch The L Word.

You've probably heard about the little Courtney Cox/Jenny Aniston Christening photos leak hubbub. An interesting thing - Courtney threatened to sue anyone who posts or publishes Coco pictures, and every blog in the universe immediately removed them. I've been looking at a lot of cached pages to confirm this. Including this occasionally funny one: The Superficial - Because You're Ugly. Anyway, Jennifer Aniston is hellahot. If you want to see the pictures, email me, and thank Rebenga. She's right there, in Big Sur.

04.20.05 Afternoon update:
The Shadow Boxer Emile Griffith beat Benny (Kid) Paret to death in the ring after Paret called him queer. That was 43 years ago. He's still struggling to come to grips with it. So are we, SI. Airing tonight at 9 on USA, Ring of Fire, the new documentary about Griffith, the gay champ who killed his gay-baiting opponent in the ring. In conjuction with the release, the USA Network conducted a poll about tolerance for gays in sports, which Sports Illustrated ran as a sidebar to this story. Griffith lands 18 punches in six seconds -- 29 consecutive unanswered punches in all. 'I think we just saw a gay murder,' says a ringside reporter.

Griffith lands 18 punches in six seconds -- 29 consecutive unanswered punches in all. 'I think we just saw a gay murder,' says a ringside reporter.

Last night I read the poll in my issue, which says, among other things that 61% of Americans "do not believe that homosexuality as a way of life should be accepted." Today on SI.com the poll says:

*Editors Note: In this week's issue of Sports Illustrated it was incorrectly stated that 61% polled said homosexuality as a way of life should not be accepted.

Oops. Well, I went to bed last night thinking most people objected to me in essence, and today I find it's less than most. Or if it's most, it's because I'm specifially offensive. Let's offend some Christians now.

Does Jack Chick hate Catholics? Yes. Do I? No. I have as much respect for Catholicism as I do any other crappy religion. But, the ugly old bulldog their Holyhighnesses chose makes the Catholics just a wee less loveable. There's this little matter: Pope is a former Hitler Youth, from Marla, who notes, "i guess this was waaaaay down at the bottom of his resume." Also, he's not down with my people - abortionists, homos, bitches, and you. Whatever. Can we stop talking about the Pope now?

I AM WORKING FROM HOME TODAY! IT TOTALLY RULES! Some construction dudes hit something and out went the power in much of Arlington, VA. So I showed up at work, and got to leave. Ohhhh...I love working on my sweet, sweet porch.

Deb D. writes, "I thought this was right up your alley, so to speak." NostalgiaNudes.net is great. Firstly, it's filled with old nudie girlie photos. Secondly, they encourage people to use them without permission. Shauna writes, "um, masturbating on the porch is not working from home, hon." Haha. Here is Shauna in the '20s, by the way.

Mr. Cupcakes would like you to fill out this survey. It's a bit on the long side, but he says it's important, and adds, "So dont be a dark cloud - lighten up!! Have some fun! Today is a day in your whole life!!" Today Is A Day In Your Whole Life Survey.

04.19.05
Many one of you have asked me to expand on the topic of beets and tents. How are they related? Is one more delicious than the other? One more sheltering? Well, I'll oblige you this once. Gather round kids, and Jenny will tell you a story from the olden days.

Once upon a time, in a land right about here, lived me, and my cat Kitty. Each day I rose at dawn and got dressed while Kitty made coffee. My place was next to a field of chard and beets, so I ate a lot of chard and beets, and Kitty ate a lot of crickets and low-flying bats.

After breakfast I would go to my job. My job involved hammering and sawing, followed by very long lunch breaks. There was the occasional falling off a roof, being hit on the head, and sometimes hitting my boss on the head. Yes, there was danger all around. But I was young and needed the money, see. Also, I got a pretty nice tan.

After work, I'd come home, shoo Kitty out of my hammock, and take a nap. During one such nap I dreamt that gypsies stole my house.

A few days later I came home from work to find that gypsies had stolen my house. One large pile of my belongings were on the ground, next to the pile was Kitty, but nowhere was there a tent. The thief or thieves also got the stuff that had been in the tent pockets, which included one soapstone pipe and an envelope of photographs. The thief or thieves took enough time to go through the pictures, taking the naked ones and leaving the clothed ones.

The incident did not dampen my enthusiasm for beets, or tents. Beets are scrumptious, and tents are excellent for temporary or longer-term residence.

Caryn's turning the big three oh this weekend. Behold! Bob's flyer. Come out to the party....

04.18.05
Re: Friday's post - How could I have forgotten food stamps and shoplifting?

Today is my sister Mandy's 19th birthday. Her fiance is making her this: Mandina Photography. I'm going to post one of her photographs. I hope she won't sue me.

By Mandy Gilbert, 2005. All rights reserved.

DC weather has been ridiculously beautiful. I spent most of Saturday in the back yard, tinkering with my little motorcycle. A couple friends came over and helped me with a sticky brake cable, among other things. I learned about the petcock. Say it with me: Petcock! A guy and his son were down from Havre de Grace, dropping off my friend's CB350. They collect and restore old Japanese bikes. He had nice things to say about Bitty, and my roommate Dave's Kawasaki. And he hooked us up with new cables. Nice.

Sunday Sarah and I went to RFK to see the Nats wrap up their first homestand with a sweep of the Arizona Diamondbacks. The stadium looks good. Our new mascot is a silly little eaglet called Screech. And the between-innings music and promotions are insanely loud and stupid. Otherwise, all thumbs up. Afterwards we skipped the Metro crowd and walked home, which is quite a few miles. In all, it was a spring weekend I would heartily recommend.

04.15.05 - TAX DAY
Do you read your Social Security Earnings Record? Does it look like mine? Because I've never heard of Too Much Information, I'd like to share with you my table of reported income for the decade after high school, and wonder together, however did we live like that?

Reported Earnings Unreported Earnings and Supplemental Support

1992	$1,132	Cash jobs: Catsitting, hard labor. Barter: Beet-picking for tent space. Credit and Student Loans: Debts no honest man can pay. Girlfriend: While an equal drain on one's resources, sometimes you can manage to be broke on alternating weeks. Dumb Luck: Hit by a drunk driver named Charlie Brown. Drunk driving doesn't always kill - sometimes it pays for someone's vacation.
1993	$814
1994	$2,700
1995	$8,566
1996	$14,118
1997	$17,298
1998	$11,038
1999	$6,942
2000	$7,943
2001	$11,478

For a ten-year average of $8,203. The poverty line for the 48 contiguous states and DC is $9,310. I guess I ate rice and never went out. I was probably a lot healthier.

Speaking of DC, did you know this market is the most-educated in the US, and has the most disposable income? When in Rome, I say, so I finally traded my outdoor jobs and itinerant lifestyle for cube-life and email access. But not forever, I hope. This is no way to live. But not hiding from collection agencies is also nice. The timeless dilemna.

Last night a damn fine Taco Night was thrown, the Nats won their home opener, and I dreamt of beautiful canopied trees, prisons, dead friends, and rotting society zombies who come back to life once a year for a big wild party.

04.14.05
I finished my book and slumbered into a tough-talking drug-addled futureland of evolved cats ordering hits and sheep getting butchered - not for chops. Because ewe knew too much.

But the sheep didn't squeal, see. The Mountain Goats did. Hear it here: No Children. Ha! I kill me. Now I'll stop.

In case you weren't around yesterday, here is the world's greatest video of all time this week: America We Stand as One. And because the internet is faster than speeding bullets, we already have the parody. And while we're chewing on some multimedia, this is the kind of thing I could never, ever do: musical lecture, from prangstgrup.com, which is down at the moment.

prince will: dirty boy - so much going on here: the hair pulling, the wrist restraint, the future king of england not wearing an undershirt (!)--wearing gingham, no less! and of course, the picadilly ho with the bam-bam tank. girl, that was out style in the u.s. like 3 years ago. i'm gonna re-enact this tonight! i'm the king, baby! - sc

I have to go learn some things and do some works. Go over
to brian's and read his studio log.

Mountain Goats - No Children

I hope that our few remaining friends
give up on trying to save us.
I hope we come out with a fail-safe plot
to piss off the dumb few that forgave us.

I hope the fences we mended
fall down beneath their own weight.
And I hope we hang on past the last exit,
I hope it's already too late.

And I hope the junkyard a few blocks from here
someday burns down.
And I hope the rising black smoke carries me far away,
and I never come back to this town again.

In my life, I hope I lie,
and tell everyone you were a good wife.
And I hope you die,
I hope we both die.

I hope I cut myself shaving tomorrow;
I hope it bleeds all day long.
Our friends say it's darkest before the sun rises;
we're pretty sure they're all wrong.

I hope it stays dark forever,
I hope the worst isn't over.
And I hope you blink before I do,
and I hope I never get sober.

And I hope when you think of me years down the line,
you can't find one good thing to say.
And I'd hope that if I found the strength to walk out,
you'd stay the hell out of my way.

I am drowning.
There is no sign of land.
You are coming down with me,
hand in unlovable hand.

04.13.05
Andrea Dworkin has died and Britney Spears is having a baby and thus continues the miraculous cycle of life. In other distaff news, Bush can't keep his filthy fingers out of anything: A New Attack on Women's Sports, nytimes.

I just received a puzzling missive. It seems important, but I'm not sure what to make of it. First I am offered an extending product, for my tool, which, I'll admit, is anything but "hugge," and then several lines cribbed from personal emails to assorted website chieftans. Curious. (I have decorated it with this new Amtrak ad by Paul Rogers. You can buy me a print for just $59. Or I'll just take the cash.)

New... and improved: exxtend your tool now!
simple, safe, quick ! a few minutes and you got yourself a hugge tool, with permenent reasults and no surgary needed.
you'll get tired of scrrewing, for sure :) It looks old, but it's new!

come take a look now!

you have done a wonderful job on this site you must have spend many hours thank you so very much.

a personal homepage dedicated to charley pride as a way to say thank you for all of the great years of great country music.

hi sherry i wanted to send ya a lil thank you for posting on my christmas trivia and i hope hunter is feeling better.

lol darn traditionally valentines day has not been kind to me this year is probably better than most since i was able to avoid it for the most part hope yours went well.

i like philosophy theology and poetry i am only a beginner in poetry though i obey no rules no styles at least the message is there.

glad to hear your son is feeling better! and also that you had such a great time with hubby sounds like it was fun! hope your hubby gets better soon and that youre able to not get sick!

david c nevins counsel to the law firm of seavey vogel oziel llp is pleased to announce the opening of a new office for the practice of general law in mineola.

Something bad went down in my hometown. I'm too lazy to confirm this with statistics, but, in the greater Columbus metro area most white kids go to school in the burbs, and I did, too, except for one horrible 5th grade year I spent at a feeder elementary to the high school in question. Lemme tell ya, I was so freaked out by this place I got the only "C" of my life, in math, and I STILL was awarded "Girl Math Student of the Year." Also, every classroom was equipped with a large wooden paddle, riddled with holes, the better to beat you with. And they were used! I couldn't believe it. That place sucked. On the other hand, the Columbus Africentric School Nubians just won State, so it's not all bad.

Happy Hour
Our hundred year old city house once backed up to an alley where pigs roamed freely, gobbling trash and leaving pig poops to bake in the hot summer sun. Some decades passed and pigs were outlawed and a hippie lady bought the house, turned the backyard into a jungle of fruit trees, wisteria vines, roses, and compost heaps. Some more time passed and the hippie lady moved to a Canadian commune leaving a mysterious room full of unopened enema kits. She rented the house to a bunch of fresh-out-of-college kids, who generally ignored the yard, but whose large dogs carried on the century-old tradition of poop.

Some more time passed and my roommates bought the house, which brings us to last night. I got home, made myself a stir-fry consisting of an entire block of tofu, two carrots, one onion, and half a bag of spinach. I ate the whole thing on the back porch and started my new book club book, gun, with occasional music, while Ed mowed the lawn with the new push mower and Dave pulled up weeds. They've done a lot of work back there. Job #1: get rid of everything.

Except for the trees and the "grass." Our yard is definitely covered with green stuff, but not much of it is grass. We don't know what it is. It grows tiny purple flowers and the bees like it.

We considered the state of the house and yard in the twilight. We could till the whole thing, we said. Ed could steal a couple squares of sod from his work every day until we had a whole lawn. Or we could seed it and wait. Or we could live with the tiny purple flowers. We should move the bricks out of the corner where they're bothering the tree and housing creepy bugs. We should try to reclaim the area now filled with wisteria stumps, and the driveway, which particularly robust vines are growing through. We might need to set underground fires. That would be cool.

Dave and I have our motorcycles out on the driveway now. I took my battery off the charger and put it in Bitty and I couldn't quite get it to turn over but Ed started it up and we're on our way to having a house motorcycle gang.

04.11.05
The cost of two Olympics soccer photos I posted last August? $100. Trying to entertain you people every day? Yeah, priceless. Today I learned three things. One, don't bother properly attributing photographs, because it only makes them findable by people who want money from you. Two, spring for a private domain, because otherwise it makes you findable by people who want money from you. Three, don't keep archives, because no one looks at them except for PEOPLE WHO WANT MONEY FROM YOU.

Did I learn anything about copyright infringement or respecting original art? No way, man. As everyone knows, I hate artists and photographers a great deal, and if I can screw them out of money with this here blog, WOOHOO!! I'M GETTING RICH!! On the other hand, yeah, pretty much every post here is illegal, and I know it. I am an outlaw. A remorseless, criminal enemy of the arts. For you. All for you.

04.08.05
The future is blowing my mind! Check out Eva, future girlfriend to the early adapters. She recognizes faces, makes expressions, learns, and really, just wants to make you happy, and steal your crappy job. Movie here. From Matt.

From across the pond, Astrofiammente writes, "here is a little something about the groovy phenomenon that is BookCrossing that you might like for HK."

Bookcrossing, by AstroF

Books, as most people would agree, are precious things. Which is why we like to be surrounded by them and to dedicate so much of our time and living space to them. Books are stories, they are ideas, they are insights and opportunities. And the idea of taking items off your bookshelves and leaving them in a public place for any old stranger to pick up – or worse, to remain discarded and never found or loved again – turns us cold. A book, once read, is part of your mental furniture. That's why you need to have it to hand.

So the idea of BookCrossing, where you sign up online to "release" volumes "into the wild" for others to find – and the more imaginative, creative or amusing your release locations, the better – is one that seems to make the majority of book-lovers shudder with horror. The idea of taking down those precious volumes and just abandoning them... doing the next best thing to throwing them away... you don't want to even imagine it.

Hey, I understand. You know, I feel just the same. But, then again. The fact is that, while nine-tenths of our copious bookshelves are filled with said precious volumes, there is some right tat in there as well. Or, at least, there was until we discovered BookCrossing. You know – the thrillers that you bought with high expectations based on the cover blurb "This will become the new Da Vinci Code!" (Don't do it – it never does). The romantic pot-boiler your auntie thought was just the thing for you. There they sit, taking up space that you could go out and fill up with lovely new purchases. True, you could offload them at the local charity shop (thrift shop?). But why not have some fun with them instead?

The idea is that once you have released a book and it is found, its next reader makes a journal entry on the BookCrossing website to tell you how they found it and what they thought of it. Then they release it, unless it has become part of their mental furniture, in which case they just keep it. It's up to them – that's the great part. And if serendipity is your thing, well, what could be better? Sometimes the return rate is a bit slow, you hear nothing about any of your releases, and you feel like giving up.

But, on the other hand, we've sent a volume out to a friend in Texas via family in the north of England, seen another one collected from the seaside in Cornwall and taken out to Germany where it was passed on to someone who, er, knew enough English to read it, and recently had a third reappear in the hands of an enthusiastic reader after months off the radar. I've found books with postcards and shopping lists still stuck in the back. It's just great and, of course, there are the books you find – you read things that you would never normally have picked up off the shelf. Crack! Was that the sound of my horizons rapidly broadening?

Just in case you are tempted, you can view my virtual bookshelf. Or you can email me at astrof@astrofiammante.net. I've got a bunch of releases coming up and, as I said earlier, they wouldn't be the first books we had sent over to the US. How about it?

04.07.05
I am safely returned to my cube after a day and a half of training out in "Fair Lakes," Virginia. Go ahead, ask me anything about REQUIREMENTS ENGINEERING. I know what you're thinking, and yes, there was role playing. I played the boss of you, and it was hot, baby.

Last night I hung out with an old friend. An estranged friend, if you will. If you've known me for 10 minutes, you've heard me whining wistfully or bitching belligerently about this estrangement.

estrange, is-'trAnj, transitive verb
1 : to remove from customary environment or associations
2 : to arouse especially mutual enmity or indifference in where there had formerly been love, affection, or friendliness

I don't even want to understand what happened. It's said that familiarity breeds contempt, and adoration teeters precariously on the edge of disgust. Occam's Razor's edge of disgust, which states: One should not make more assumptions than the minimum needed. To summarize, I've really missed that guy. And though no estranged friend, dead pet, or ex is wholly replaceable, you can certainly delegate their duties. With that in mind, here is a song given to me by my replacement music guy, Edward. You can listen to it over and over and over....Call to Love, by Crooked Fingers.

I'm having some déjà vu while I enter this entry, which is about as internerdy* as it gets. Enjoy the sun, and don't forget to come to Taco Night.

04.05.05
It's really nice out, and I'm really busy, and for the next two days I have corporate training somewhere in Virginia. So there won't be much happening here. Send me something and I'll post it. Meantime, here's the beginning of a nice little recap and analysis of Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf? from greatestfilms.org.

The film opens under a moonlit sky in the middle of the night on a small New England college campus (in the town of New Carthage - an allegorical name). Under the credits, an academic couple walk through the deserted campus - George (Richard Burton), a 46 year old, bespectacled history professor, and his 52 year old wife Martha (Elizabeth Taylor), a large, boisterous, blowsy woman with heavy wrinkles. After drunkenly weaving their way home, they enter their home and switch the lights on. Martha looks around the living room discontentedly and parodies Bette Davis' mannerisms, exclaiming:

In the sloppy kitchen in a famous sequence in which she munches on a fried chicken leg and puffs on a cigarette, she repeatedly - with a deep whiskey voice - berates her husband for not remembering the film the line is from: "What's it from, for Christ's sake?...some damn Bette Davis picture, some god-damned Warner Bros epic." Exasperated at her criticism of his cocktail-party behavior, he inquires: "Do you want me to go around braying at everyone all night the way you do?"

They have returned at two o'clock early on a Sunday morning from one of her father's "goddamn Saturday night orgies," according to George. As they bicker at each other, it is revealed that George is a tired, defeated teacher, married for twenty years to the daughter of the president of the college.

When she suggests that they have a drink, he finds out that they've "got guests coming over" that Martha invited to join them in an 'after-party' party - a blonde, good-looking, young newly-appointed Math Department member [Martha is mistaken - he is an assistant professor in the Biology Department] and his wife, described as "a mousey little type, without any hips or anything."

Disturbed because she always "springs things" on him, she makes light-hearted fun of his reaction, acting both loving and vicious toward him, singing to the tune of "Mulberry Bush" (or "Who's Afraid of the Big Bad Wolf" from Disney's animation short "The Three Little Pigs"):

Poor Georgie-Porgie, put-upon pie...Awwwwwwwwwww! Hey! Hey! Hey! (She sings) Who's afraid of Virginia Woolf, Virginia Woolf, Virginia Woolf, Who's afraid of Virginia Woolf...Ha, ha, ha, HA! (No reaction) What's the matter? Didn't you think that was funny? I thought it was a scream...You laughed your head off when you heard it at the party.
Knowing that Martha acts abominable when drunk, he cautions her to behave herself in front of the guests. She taunts him back, typical of the violent, self-destructive arguments they have had in their joint lives together: "I swear, if you existed, I'd divorce you."

Then, he warns her: Try to keep your clothes on too. There aren't many more sickening sights in this world than you with a couple of drinks in you and your skirt up over your head...When the doorbell rings, George asks her to refrain from mentioning their mythical child while the guests are there:

George: Just don't start in on the bit about the kid, that's all.
Martha: What do you take me for?
George: Much too much.
Martha: Yeah? Well I'll start in on the kid if I want to.
Martha: Just leave the kid out of this.
George: I'd advise against it, Martha

04.04.05
I apologize for having deprived tens of tens of you of the comforting, daily routine of finding something new to look at here. I am an irresponsible keeper of this space. And while I am a very responsible pet-sitter, I must admit that two animals have decided to die while in my care. Twice I've had to face folks at the airport with the news that they now had one pet less. Or fewer. Now, while we're on the subject of death and animals and new things to look at - friend, artist, and Prescott College instructor Julie Comnick just sent me new stuff. Please send us a title. For Prizes! Yeah.

If everything I've seen today were to be believed, House Republicans just enacted "Romero's Law," DeLay: Feed Medicare recipients to zombies; a dissed Milwaukee Alderman called the mayor a "straight-up, honkey faggot"; and the Michigan legislature passed a bill allowing medical professionals to deny services to honkey faggots, non-honkey faggots, and lesbians of all hues. At least, I think that one's a falsie. And this one I think is true. Recieved by one Kelly L., who noted "The picture some of the imagery in this article paints..." Woman Pulled Over By Police After Giving Birth.

At least the Onion never posts fake news. From the A/V Club, 15 bad scenes in great movies/15 great scenes in bad movies. It's not as good as I hoped, but I was glad to see the inexcusable gang rape in the otherwise campirrific Showgirls included. Way to ruin a perfectly terrible movie, dude.

I don't want to be cruel, but check out the memorial collage at Mrs. Schiavo's funeral. See also the drumkit, and general staginess of the whole operation. That's what my mom's church looks like. Also from Bob, The Top 100 April Fool's Day Hoaxes of All Time. And also from Bob, the nice story below.

MINNEAPOLIS (AP) _ The quietest place on Earth makes its claim less than a block from a bustling liquor store, next to a city bus stop, under the flight path of jumbo jets, and not far from a playground that hosts a daily scream fest worthy of earplugs.

And yet, there it is: the anechoic chamber at Orfield Labs, an office-size studio used for testing sound equipment. Right in Minneapolis.

Engineers tested the chamber not too long ago and found, or rather didn't find, sound. What they didn't find measured below the threshold for human ears, 0 decibels, and was as quiet as negative 9.4 decibels, an absence so profound that a person standing in the room for more than a few minutes would begin to hear his or her own ear making noise as their brain struggled to understand what was happening.

Lab owner Steve Orfield wondered if he might have the quietest chamber in existence. He called Guinness World Records.

"Guinness had never had a claim of negative decibels so they said, 'Why don't you just call it the quietest place on Earth?"' Orfield said.

And that's how the anechoic chamber (named for a Greek word that means "no echo") at Orfield's E. 25th Street laboratory got into the latest edition of the record book.

The quietest place on earth was once the noisiest in the digital world. This was the site of Sound 80, the legendary south Minneapolis studio that pioneered digital recording using machines developed by 3M Co. The world's first production of digital recordings was made here: the St. Paul Chamber Orchestra's rendition of Aaron Copeland's classic "Appalachian Spring," and a second recording by local legends Flim and the BB's. Bob Dylan recorded parts of "Blood on the Tracks" at the company's No. 1 studio, which remains much as it did at the time of the recording. Others who passed through the studio include Roberta Flack, Leo Kottke, Cat Stevens, Dave Brubeck and Lipps.

Times changed, and Sound 80 founder Herb Pilhofer eventually sold the building to Orfield 15 years ago.

A room so quiet one could hear a pin drop is really not so quiet. Listen again and hear the throaty whoosh of air coming from the heating ducts, the buzz from a distant airplane overhead, cars humming past the window; mobile steel noisemakers. A high school physics teacher will tell you that sound travels as vibrations through air and even our quiet places are alive with sound. And that's just what we can hear. A human ear can theoretically detect sounds as low as 0 decibels, an arbitrary number that was set to match the approximate threshold of human hearing, but many adults cannot hear anything below 12 to 15 decibels. And then there's the whole range of sounds below human hearing, below 0 decibels.

It's the business of people like Orfield to pay attention to those noises.

His company engineers sound (and lighting and many other things) for companies as wide ranging as Maytag and Harley-Davidson. Talking to Orfield for a few minutes, the world of acoustics reveals itself. Nothing, it seems, has gone unstudied by sound engineers. A dishwasher, a motorcycle, an airplane engine. These inventions sound the way they do because someone somewhere thought it would mean quality, or strength, or would convince people that the machine was doing what it was supposed to do.

The problem, as Orfield explains it, is this: "How do you make a dishwasher sound very nice and sound like it's washing dishes?"

To answer such questions, Orfield sometimes uses a reverberation room, an echo chamber at his office complex, where sound lingers in the air for up to eight seconds. For others, he uses the anechoic chamber, a studio in which sound dies almost immediately. Nothing reflects off the walls. Engineers use the chamber to test microphones, speakers and hearing aids, among other things.

The chamber is sort of like a Russian nesting doll, a series of boxes place inside each other to deaden the sounds of the outside world. The first and largest box has concrete walls that are a foot thick. Inside them, a smaller room called an overchamber sits above the pit. And inside the pit, floating on steel coil springs, is the anechoic chamber. It measures 20-by-20-by-15-feet on the outside, but just 8-by-10-by-12-feet inside. Most of the difference is taken up by row upon row of 3.3-foot-long fiberglass wedges that point inward. A sound made inside the chamber travels to the walls and gets trapped inside the wedges lining the interior. Nothing reverberates. The sound dies. The result is 150 decibels of sound loss from the outside world to the chamber.

Orfield bought the chamber from a Sunbeam research facility in Schaumberg, Ill. It was loaded onto three semitrailer trucks with the help of the University of Chicago football team, then transported to Minneapolis and kept in storage until Orfield built an addition in 1995 to house the chamber.

Building an anechoic chamber from scratch costs from $100,000 to $500,000, said Jeff Morse, vice president of Eckel Noise Control Technologies, a Massachusetts company that builds them.

The company has constructed more than 500 facilities since 1952. Morse said the quietest anechoic chamber he had ever heard of was at a Hewlett Packard facility, where engineers registered minus-4 decibels. "Even getting into the negative numbers is extremely, extremely quiet," he said.

Step inside Orfield's anechoic chamber and prepare to feel confused. The human ear relies on reverberations from our environment for some of our balance. We know where we are in the world by what we hear. Sound waves bounce off the walls around us and we get a sense of how big a room is. The hush of a car's interior reminds us that we're in a cramped space. Take that pressure away and a person feels lost.

Stepping into an anechoic chamber is not like simply going somewhere that's quiet. The absence of noise, of any noise, even noises that are just below the capacity of human ears, leaves your sense of balance slightly askew.

The brain becomes so confused by the absence of pressure on our ears that it orders the ear to start buzzing, making "auto-emissive sounds," Orfield said.

It was a few moments spent in an anechoic chamber that inspired experimental musician John Cage to write 4'33", a three-movement composition of no sound. Its premiere in 1952 had pianist David Tudor sitting at a piano, the keys left untouched, occasionally turning pages as he glanced at a stopwatch.

Cage said it was his experience in an anechoic chamber that made him realize there was no such thing as silence, for even in the chamber he could hear two sounds, one high and one low. A sound engineer at the Harvard anechoic chamber told him he was hearing his own nervous system (high) and his own blood pumping throughout his body (low).

Creepy, a bit, but then standing in an anechoic chamber feels unlike anything most people have ever experienced. Not even swimming under water matches the noiseless sensation.

Orfield, for his part, said he was surprised that Guinness gave him the designation.

"I had no expectation that I would ever hear from them," he said.

03.31.05
TOP STORY: From Shauna, who notes, "A lone orange tree was full of fruit." Menage A Trois Ends In Death. Oh, sure, blame the menage a trois. It's not the menage a trois' fault that Florida is populated by criminals, illiterates, and fruits. And mom. Hi mom!

Jerry Falwell failed to die, but Terry Schiavo didn't. At least she was the one person spared feeling the indignity. And now, cheerleaders!

03.30.05
Deb D. went to that Ohio State vs. Maryland game last week, and got a lot of neat shots. Check out her photo album here, and make sure you select "View Photos Larger" on the right nav. Among your many rewards will be pics of the currently dying Jerry Falwell watching his Baptist Liberty Eagles. Deb says, "I'm very excited about his condition. I'm just hoping that the Pope, Jerry Falwell, and Terry Schiavo don't die on the same day - the freaks will have a field day calling it a Holy Trinity or something." Amen.

Let's briefly review why Falwell is a world-class asshat. Why did the terrorist attacks of 911 happen?

He also said, "The fact that Marc Cherry's a gay Republican means he should join the Democratic Party." Segue to....Mary Cheney to write memoir, under Mary Matalin's "new subdivision of Simon & Schuster devoted to conservative books." Blergh. Also, an uplifting new report: Abuse of Ecosystem Threatens Earth. Gosh, preventable destruction of the planet is going on? 'Tev, the Christians and the Right are busy saving vegetables.

Diversion #1: Martini's bfriend Chaz's new project is EVERYDAY ART. #2: Hear a stupid person report a Burger King 9-1-1. #3: the ad that got Larry Flynt sued for libel. Flynt won.

Jaime says, "hi all. i've posted a totally beat page of pics from our trip on my website. if you love food, dogs or jude law, you should take a look."

Emerson House's most famous laptop DJ, junebullet! was on NPR's Morning Edition today. See DJs Face Off with Laptop Compositions. And listen to Hear Maegan Wood Compose. Yay! She sounds smart and stuff.

At right is a picture of Katie's shiner. Her face snowboarded right into Edward's elbow. I'd post a picture of myself from the trip, but I look like your creepy neighborhood boozy flasher in every one.

03.28.05
To pouring rain and crushing drudgery I have returned, from a long weekend of driving, imbibing, and most unlikely, successfully skiing down a big mountain. I also spent a good deal of time walking around in my bathrobe, as our vacation rental was warm and with hot tub, and my 12 friends nudists. No, they aren't, but one pair was with child, which was some relief to me, because when I saw a 6-pack of O'Douls in the fridge, all I could think was SURPRISE INTERVENTION FOR JENNY.

Vermont is as lovely as the Jersey Turnpike is not, and unfortunately, equal waking hours were spent in each. Still, barrelling down a real live mountain, with just barely a bit of control, forgotten quads and lungs a-bitching, dodging men, women, and tiny, tiny children, all of whom are total shredders compared to me, is really fucking awesome! YEE-HAAAWW! Next year I will try the snowboarding, like the kids are doing these days.

USUAL SUSPECTS ROUNDUP: Bad Bunnies Revisited, by Shermanilla. Buster's Law, at Kittenpants. "..in this country we are denying gay people and poor people the same rights we want to bestow on our dogs, cats, fetuses, stem cells, and the legally dead." Zulkey's discount Fox-blocker.

I liked it, because I never saw the original: What Have You Done With My Office?: NBC body-snatches the BBC series, by Ms. Liz Penn. Speaking of television, last night's installment of The L-Word was a real cringe-athon. I watched most of it through my hand-filter-of-shame, but! never fear. Next ep, according to our L-Word ESP, the horrible roommate guy is going to have a change of heart after a) getting punched in the face by Shane, b) saving Shane from some sort of gay-bashing, and c) doin' it with Shane. Problem of offensively-offensive portrayal of the one recurring male character this season - solved.

I witnessed this whilst grooving on my newest guiltless pleasure, "fashiontrance," on the style channel. This show is brilliantly designed for the fashion- and/or dead-eyed-model-obsessed stoned late-nite cable-watcher. It combines trance music (why did that art form die, i ask you) and an unmoving camera shot of the catwalk, rounded out with pop-up video type blurbs of useless info: "Prada says this collection is inspired by the 18-century, and also video games."

Columbus, Ohio - First Wendy's Old Fashioned Hamburgers, opened in 1969. Roadsideamerica.com.

Diner finds finger in chili

SAN FRANCISCO, California (Reuters) -- A diner at a Wendy's fast food restaurant in San Jose, California, found a human finger in a bowl of chili prepared by the chain, local officials said Wednesday.

"This individual apparently did take a spoonful, did have a finger in their mouth and then, you know, spit it out and recognized it," said Ben Gale, director of the department of environmental health for Santa Clara County. "Then they had some kind of emotional reaction and vomited."

Local officials launched an investigation after the incident Tuesday night and the medical examiner determined Wednesday that the object was a human finger. Officials are trying to determine whether the finger came in the raw materials Wendy's used to prepare the chili, Gale said.

Wendy's International Inc. corporate office did not immediately return a call for comment. Wendy's is the third-largest hamburger chain.

Now you need something redeeming, and I have it. Jump Shot: At Hine Junior High, A Rookie Coach Teaches Her Players to Believe in Themselves, wapost. The gist: a Blair H.S. graduate leaves her lucrative enivironmental engineering job to teach algebra at an all-black District school. Then becomes the boys' basketball coach! Great story.

03.23.05
My dad called 8 minutes before tipoff last night, trying to sucker me into betting him on the Maryland/Ohio State game. Glad I declined. Maryland hung in there the first half, but the big Buckeyes pulled away in the second, advancing to play C. Vivian Stringer's Rutgers Knights in the round of 16. The Terps had the cutest player on the court, though - former Israeli national team guard Shay Doron. Here is a picture of her riding a camel at Hornbake Library. Meanwhile, Tennessee coach Pat Summitt got her 880th victory, passing former UNC legend Dean Smith for the all-time NCAA wins record. Either Tennessee or Ohio State should meet UConn in the Final Four, and we just hope Geno's team gets its butt kicked this year. Here's the current womens' bracket.

City-commuter-driving is it's own specialized form of punishing sport, and successfully navigating a relatively pain-free route requires the cooperation of hundreds of individual drivers, each with their own driver-values, motives, and techniques. But, in general, I have found there to be exactly three kinds of drivers. Group One, approximately 15% of the driver population, is made up of the incredible assholes who drive straight to the front of any backed-up line of cars and push their way in. Why wait? These are usually, but not always, SUV drivers. They are under the impression that they are smarter and more important than the pussies who enter the line when they come to it. Group Two, maybe 60% of drivers, are those who let these jerks in. They are either too distracted, too stupid, or too well-adjusted to care about the INJUSTICE they daily condone. WOE! They undermine the work of Group Three: the rest of us, perhaps 25%, who daily risk a rear-ending trying to NOT let Group One in. It's all for naught. They always get in, and they're probably the boss of you.

From Notre Dame 'Recruiting—A History in Pictures'

03.22.05
For a hundred reasons too annoying to get into, the womens' NCAA tournament is playing out quietly in the shadow of the Madness. FYI, one Regional is happening right in our backyard. Tonight, at Comcast Center in College Park, the MARYLAND TERRAPINS take on the OHIO STATE BUCKEYES. Tickets: very available. My two alma maters, in second round action, right down the road, and I'M not even going. I didn't even KNOW about it. No coverage = no buzz = empty seats. Well, the Post's Kathy Orton is trying, anyway: Tall Players Are Reshaping Game: Women's Front-Court Skills Evolving Fast. And while we're on the topic of Ohio basketball, the Cleveland Cavaliers just fired coach Paul Silas. And while we're on the subject of women's basketball, the Mystics just traded Chamique Holdsclaw to L.A. DC kills #1 draft picks, apparently.

Elsewhere in the paper, something deeply stupid is happening in Florida and in the White House, and in Congress, but, that's no different from any other day. My plan is to stick my head in the snow and hope it all goes away. At Mount Snow! Yay.

03.21.05
Happy Benito Juarez' Birthday. And happy Canberra Day. Canberra Day is to Australia as Washington D.C. Day is to America, except we don't have one of those. President Jaurez might be like our President Lincoln, had Lincoln been an Indian. He said, "Between individuals, as between nations, respect for the rights of others is peace."

L-Word Predictions by Sally "The L-Word Predictor." Loosely transcribed by me.

Tina and Bette will get back together, but only after Bette does something really good, and Tina does something really bad. That really bad thing will be Helena Peabody, who turns out to be Pure Evil. Dana will break up with Tonya before the wedding, but not at the altar. (I'll miss Tonya, even though she commited felinicide, which is punishable by death in HK, were HK a real land and I its benevolent Queen.) But the Dana/Alice love boat quickly runs aground when the cute chef returns! Kit will sleep with Rock the Motivator, and then find out he's married. Jenny, who is by far this season's Most Improved Character, will get with Carmen. And Shane will be sad, even though she set them up. But then Jenny and Shane find skeezy trustfund roomate's sex tapes! Yay!

After kicking him to the curb, hopefully naked, they'll watch the sex tapes and lo! it will become clear that Shane's really not into doing all those other girls, and Jenny and Carmen's XXX vid reveals Jenny reading a magazine, or Carmen yelping Shane's name or something. Thus Shane and Carmen. Also, Shane's new job as hairdresser to the rich and famous will be a great way to work in more guest stars. Like Sandra Bernhard, who will somehow squeeze once decent story about the damn carnival out of Jenny. Also, some chick named Lauren, a Shane-sized hub on Alice's whiteboard of lesbincest, will be a great new bad guy. Woohoo! We love the L-Word! Even when's it 89% Cringe-inducingly stupid!

And now, please go watch Sally Spudd, the tasteful detective, Episode 1: Looking for Mr. Orange. By resident genius Jill, aka Sherman. You'll be glad you did.

Observation: Personal blogs are boring.
Question: How come?
Hypothesis: People like to talk about themselves, not listen to other people talk about themselves.
Prediction: If I blog about the minutiae of myself, the people will be bored, and will eventually disperse.
Experiment: Today in Heck's Tavern, barfly SuSuBelle of Bozeman asks, regarding yesterday's post, "Hey, jm--*Miller* isn't French, Irish, German, or Slovak. Are you dissing the English again?" I'm not sure I ever dissed the English, but I am sure that the last name of my paternal, biological grandfather was "German," which is very German, and that my dad was adopted by one of my grandma's husbands, aka Grandpa Denver Miller.
Analysis: That was boring to you, but not to me. Prediction holds.
Decision: You get what you pay for. I will blog another day.

03.17.05
Today is International Luncheon Day here at work. Yesterday, the woman in charge of International Luncheon Day went cube to cube, pressuring us into participating. I heard her coming down the aisle, guilting and shaming each employee as she went, until every boy and girl at least agreed to bring beer. The only one of us who successfully refused her was our friend Warriorgeek, who is apparently immune to such techniques.

I, however, am easily guilted and shamed. The idea behind International Luncheon Day is to make the food "of your people," an exercise in multiculti love and food, and since I am French, Irish, German and Slovak, I woke up at 7:30 this morning to make a delicious, if a bit oily, Pad Thai. Also, did I mention there will be beer? Guinness, Spaten, Warsteiner, Bass, St. Pauli Girl. We don't mess around.

You may have noticed we've stopped talking politics here on HK lately. That's because everything happening is bad. Real bad. You don't even want to LOOK at the paper. I can't believe what I'm accidentally reading, just on my way to the sports page. Dear Jesus, please come get your people. They must be stopped. Take the Republicans, too.

In better news, here is a photo of (Orange) Julius, passed out on Elament's turntable, care of Jill & Lauren.

03.16.05 - Comfort food edition. Aw. I'm a Sox fan, now.

Sports/Gay Stuff: "Boston Red Sox captain and catcher Jason Varitek, right, dashes across the field with Jai Rodriguez of the television show "Queer Eye for the Straight Guy" at City of Palms Park in Fort Myers, Fla. About five players from the Red Sox will be participating in the show and are expected to get complete makeovers (AP Photo/Charles Krupa, March 14, 2005)." From M. Fox.

Plugging Friends' Events/Culture: Kittenpants' short film THE ADVENTURES OF SLATER'S FRIEND makes its world premiere at The Independent Film Festival of Boston, April 21-24.

Cats/Kittens: "in cute kitten news, jaime and mr. peebles, the world's smallest cat, went out in times square this weekend (see photo)." From BWA.

Cats/Kittens II: From Dana, "I'm a member of a yahoo group called 'debunkCreation.' I initially joined as an accident - just needed to research at work what major listserv providers say about spam filtering when new members sign up. But I got quickly sucked in. In my first-ever act of internet activism, I collected the science books from members and sent them for the donation discussed here: Internet Activists Donate Science Books to Anti-Evolution School District.

"Anyhow, I hope your family doesn't live in Dover, PA, sounds like a scary place. But my real point about all this is to send you this totally cute & interesting, story about cats that one of the list members posted:

"Sounds like typical "pack" behavior. Domestic dogs, for the most part, view humans as other dogs -- indeed, most domestic dogs are taught to regard humans as the DOMINANT member of the pack. "Running with the pack" is, for dogs, far more than just an expression. Mr. Peebles and his pride.

"Cats, which have no such pack instincts, are as a result distinctly aloof from humans (though domestic cats are, to a large extent, permanently "kitten-ized", and tend to view humans as their "mommy").

"Actually, cats will sort of "pride up" in a group not unlike a lion pride and that's close enough that they can include dogs in their social group. But a cat who considers you a member of the pride instead of mommy will relate differently to you. For example you can walk cats if they consider you part of their social group. I remember one incident when I had my three and about a dozen more that we gathered up in the neighbourhood out for a 2AM walk and a cop stopped me to ask what I was doing on the street at that hour. He was awfully skeptical when I said I was walking my cats, but I told him to shine his flashlight up the street behind me. There were glowing eyes everywhere. He just got back in the car and drove off without another word."

03.15.05
Newly armed with iPod and LimeWire, I've joined the ranks of people trying to bring down the music industry. And since I don't have a thought in my head today, I'm going to give you some tunes. Hope you like them. From John Zorn's pain-in-the-ass noisy Naked City: one of the accessible songs - The Sicilian Clan.

Here's something cool, and allegedly rare - The Rolling Stones and The Beatles doing Drift Away. And....MORE LINDA RONSTADT! You are such lucky people. From her best album, Heart Like a Wheel, "Ranked #23 in Rolling Stone's 'Women in Rock: The 50 Essential Albums'....Q 4/04 - 4 stars out of 5 - 'Students of Americana will find plenty to admire in her innate grasp of country music, audible sense of soul, and peerless interpretative talent.'" Willing (Little Feat) "If you give me weed, whites and wine, and you show me a sign, then I'll be willing to be moving." You Can Close Your Eyes (James Taylor); "a classic guilt-laced 'cheating' ballad," The Dark End of the Street (Spooner Oldham and Dan Penn); and Faithless Love (JD Souther).

03.09.05

Royal flash: A topless demonstrator with the words "Get your colonial shame off my breasts" scrawled across her chest and stomach is marched away after exposing herself to Prince Charles in Wellington, New Zealand. The prince reportedly appeared to smile at her. From RT.

People may surprise you with unexpected kindness. Dogs have a depth of loyalty that often we seem unworthy of. But the love of a cat is a blessing, a privilege in this world. They say when you die and go to heaven all the dogs and cats you've ever had in your life come running to meet you.

03.07.05
My great grandma died Sunday morning, peacefully, and in the arms of my grandma. She was 98 and more than ready to go, so it's a relief but sad anyway. I'll be mostly running around Pennsyltucky this week, so HK goes mostly on hiatus. Go ahead and see other people if you like, but...this reminds me of an L-Word recap I just read...

Francesca reminds Jenny that she's not exactly innocent. Jenny grabs the wine that she brought as a gift, and starts to leave -- but first Francesca tells her that although anything goes when she and Marina are apart, her "home" is to be exactly as she left it when she returns. Jenny leaves, and then turns back and throws the bottle of wine at Marina and Francesca's glass house.

03.05.05
My birthday acquisitions thus far have been outstanding! I got a Kermit-colored iPod mini, and a National Press Club mug with a dollar inside! AND people are sending me pictures of themselves, in honor of my birthday. Excellent. You should, too. At top right, my Floridian sister and her fiance, wearing birthday hats; at bottom right, Bostonians Jill and Lauren, who wish me "happy birthday from the hair farm!"

I know I don't deserve such good people. Either I am very tricky, or I inspire some kind of pity. Woohoo!

Ephemera Now is THE MUSEUM OF MID-CENTURY ADVERTISING ART & ILLUSTRATION. I don't know quite what to say about it, except OH, MY GAWD! It's SO HOT! Aagghhh....I love you, Ephemera Now. Never leave me.

And now, for your edification and pleasure, excerpts from grapefruit, A book of Instructions and Drawings by Yoko Ono. (Who's 72! WTF?)

Take another mannerism from another
kind of animal and make it yours
without dropping the previously
acquired mannerism.

Give birth to a child
See the world through its eye.
Let it touch everything possible
and leave its fingermark there
in place of a signature.

Hold a touch poem meeting at somewhere
in the distance or a ficticious address
on a ficticious day.

From Bob: Police criticize Bentworth school officials over secret room. Bob adds, This is my favorite line from that article: "Kavakich said a camera found in the room contained one photo of a student using 'poor judgment,' but he declined to elaborate."

From Rebenga: senders from whom i have received spam in the last week
and whose names sound as though they're the work of no less than edward gorey:

gratuitous kittenry

Puff U. Preexists
Eyre K. Creepy
Housefly I. Raceways
Arrogate H. Enigmatic
Unwrap R. Nottingham
Cervix M. Junipers...

and my favorite,
Narrowness Q. Girlhood

SEEKING YOUR ASSISTANCE IN DISBURSING FUNDS TO CHARITY: Dear Friend,
Greetings to you and Please permit me to introduce myself. I am Mr. ABDUL-AZEEZ Ahmed a SAUDI National and a crude oil Merchant before I was diagnosed with esophageal cancer which has defiled all medical solutions and according to medical experts I only have a few more months to live. As you read this you do not have to feel sorry for me as it is a universal truth that we all must die someday, the only problem with mine though being that I have particularly not lived my life well in spite of my wealth and possessions as I never really cared for anyone (not even myself) but my business. Though I am very rich I was never generous, I was never caring about people but only dedicated my time and resources on my business as that was the only thing I cared about. But now I regret all this as I now know that there is more to life than just accumulating all the wealth in the world as I lay helplessly on my sick bed.

URGENT REPLY NEEDED: Dear Beloved,
I humbly crave your indulgence in sending you this mail, if the contents does not meet with your personal and business ethics, I apologise in advance, I am Mark Ncube the first Son of Mr Solomon.D.Ncube former national security advicer to the ousted Sierria Leonean military head of state, Paul Koroma. Actually, I have never met you before, but it was a friend of my father who happened to be present at his bural that adviced me to consider your country for my investments. After due consideration, I started searching the web side where I got your email address. No one else is aware of my proposal to you.

PLS REPLY: Hello ,
I am writting this letter with due respect and heartful of tears since we have not known or met ourselves previously I am asking for your assistance after I have gone through a profile that speaks good of you.

THANKS FOR YOUR UNDERSTANDING !!!! Attention: Sir, My name is Mr. George Graham a member of Independent Committee of Eminent Persons (ICEP), Switzerland. ICEP is charged with the responsibility of finding bank accounts in Switzerland belonging to non-Swiss indigenes, which have remained dormant since World War II. These accounts had been dormant since the end of World War II (May 9, 1945). Most belonged to Holocaust victims.

Financial Trust: Confidential Request:
I am contacting you to partner with me to move the sum of $12.8m from our company, Sovereign Trust Corporation Ltd, London, United Kingdom to an account abroad. Kindly forward your telephone; fax numbers and bank account details that will be used to transfer this money. I hope you will never let me down.

Call out Gouranga be happy!!!
Gouranga Gouranga Gouranga ....
That which brings the highest happiness!!

Professor Sallypants challenges you to a drinking contest

This Spring the museum will host the 48th Corcoran Biennial: Closer to Home. It's an exhibition of funky, contemporary art that should be a lot of fun -- especially considering the snoozerific exhibitions currently on display. I'm planning a program that will combine a curator-led tour with my favorite quirky craft project -- shrinkie dinks! As people sit in the cafe, transforming great contemporary art into shrinkie-dink keychains, pins, and earrings, we'd very much like them to be drinking expensive liquor. I've been told to order whatever booze suits my fancy, but I'm too drunk right now to come up with anything, so I'm turning that burden over to you people.

Please try to refrain from making anything too complicated. Let's face it, the name is the important part. There will actually be a really cool prize for the winner. Honest. Now please, help me, help you get drunk.

And finally, here is one helluva way to make a statement, a mess, and a corpse. From Bobbay.

Andy just called me. This guy we know shot himself AT the wedding ceremony of his ex wife. Sprayed brains and goo all over the wedding party. The suicide guy, scott simms, was a drummer of some note and a few years older than us. A white guy w/a tremendous afro. He got in a fight sometime after he graduated from high school and some dude bit his nipple off.

In a related story, Corey reports that the world's largest donut in Portland has been destroyed.

We cannot corroborate either of these stories on Lexis nexis, however. So they may be rank lies.

This Space for Rent Archive XVII: Spring - Summer, 2005.