May 25th, 2005

Short hair suspicion

Tidings of discomfort and joy

I can't get comfortable in my head right now. It's hard to explain, but something's just not right with me. I think it may be the exercise thing again, it always takes awhile for me to get back into a routine and while I'm doing so I feel weird and unfocused.

So I haven't quite discovered my new lifestyle stride, but on the plus side I have become acquainted with the wonderful world of back pain, so that's a big plus.

I keep getting distracted though. Like yesterday a woman (who I have never met except online, so it may not be a woman. It could be a man. It could be a hyperintelligent emu. It could be a pretty smart emu getting coaching from a hyperintelligent penguin. Nobody knows.) suggested a sexual attraction to Bill O'Reilly. Up until that point I didn't realize it was possible to be attracted to Bill O'Reilly. I thought the blotches acted as some sort of repellent, leaving him to seek out sexual gratification by phoning subordinates and making inappropriate comments about his luffa. But there she (he, it) was, claiming that she wanted a ride on the Levittown express. Next stop, orgasmville.

She also said O'Reilly would make a great top, while to me he seems like the CONSUMMATE dominatrix patron. "I was a bad bad boy on my TV show."

The whole exchange confused me and I spent valuable time and energy contemplating the ramifications of Bill O'Reilly: Sex symbol for liberal women. It did not look good.

Then there was the whole Paris Hilton Carl's Jr. commercial (She washes a car), which was said to be too sexy for TV.

Paris Hilton? The woman whose body answers the question "What if Gumby were a Blonde?" What exactly is hot about that? Is it the way the suds drip down her pipe cleaner neck and pools in the vast cavities of her collar bone? Maybe it's the way she pushes her flatter than Kansas ass towards the camera, sexily stretching skin over bone so tightly that you can make out a fracture she got falling out of 10" heels at 7 years old. It couldn't be how she eats the burger. She's never eaten a burger in her life. She's barely eaten in her life. If it can't be easily thrown up or it's not attached to a D-list celebrity it is NOT going to get between those lips, period.

I think the problem may be that the media is skewing more and more gay, and they no longer understand what's hot to heterosexual guys. "Heteros like...blondes right? And they like chicks who enjoy anonymous sex in club bathrooms? Who knows, dude did you see Toby McGuire at that party? More like Tubby McGuire!"

So if you are a media gay I am going to provide you with a handy dandy guide to what guys want to see.

This is a slim and attractive young woman:

This is an abomination

This is Gumby

Note how the young woman has a bust in proportion to the rest of her body, clothing that would not be appropriate for a streetwalker, and a look of ponderance upon her face that implies she might be in the midst of an actual thought, and that she could be capable of opening her mouth for some purpose other than to endorse a product or bring down Western Civilization. How seductive is that?

The abomination has no breasts and is virtually indistinguishable from someone who has died of malnutrition except that her eyes are open. In fact, medically speaking, she has the robust health of a 3-month old corpse. Let's look at an approximation of how she might look without makeup, lighting, or scraps of cloth (to call them clothing would be a great injustice to mankind's storied tradition of covering his body in fabric.)

Look at the two pictures, the similarity is pretty startling, isn't it? (Paris Hilton actually is wheeled around and supported by a rod through her anus. This is because she does not consume enough calcium to have an actual spine. She is technically an invertebrate.)

That is not sexy. That is not even a cry for help. It's a human rights violation. To have this "woman" appear to consume food is something straight out of Famine's plan from Good Omens. It's not sexy. It's sad. Depressing. Painful.

It doesn't matter what Gumby washes, he's STILL fucking Gumby.

Another issue that has been plaguing me is the cost of audiobooks. I have been looking into them as entertainments on my interminable walks in the outside world. The only problem is that they cost more than hiring someone to walk FOR me. $30+ for American Gods? For that price Neil Gaiman should not only read the book to me, but come to my house and stroke my hair as I go to sleep. Seriously, I can buy the paperback for $7.99. What's the excuse for the cost? I'm downloading it off the net, so there's no physical production costs. Neil Gaiman is doing the reading himself, so there's no voice actor to pay. What, is Neil Gaiman the reader refusing to let Neil Gaiman the writer sell the book cheaper? I get why Elmore Leonard's The Hot Kid cost as much via as it does via but what about the older stuff. One volume in The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy costs more via audiobook than the whole series does in hardback.

If they reduced the price presumably they would sell more and make more money, right? That's how supply and demand works. That's why paperbacks exist. What's up with audiobooks? Is there a secret monopoly? WE HAVE THE RIGHT TO KNOW! WE HAVE THE RIGHT TO KNOW!
  • Current Music
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A hairy situation


This poll is for singles only. If you are not single, or are a U.S. Lothario like fakingsincerity who whores around like a common alley cat because his father never loved him, not the way he wanted, kindly move on to the next post on your list. I hear there's a LOVELY one about heroic union-busting scabs just a few away. Hurry, you'll miss it!

Good, they're gone. Bastards. Lovable Lovable bastards.

Okay, so I'm pretty much a satisfied single type. I don't really feel the need to be with anybody, and I have no fear of dying alone. We all die alone, just sometimes there are other people present. There are, however, fleeting moments of loneliness brought on by the oddest things. Like today I was trying to figure out if there was anything on TV I wanted to TiVo when a commercial came on for the Phillips Electronics company. It had a little kid saying "I wish someone made a DVD recorder so simple to use that dad wouldn't use words I'm not supposed to hear." Which seemed cute, if a total lie, since kids LOVE curse words. Seriously, go up to a baby and shout "FUCK YOU, YOU TINY COCKSMOKER" in his little baby face. You'll make his day. His mother may beat you into a state of semi-consciousness that shares many characteristics with death, but his day will be fucking made, man.

Anyway that seemed like a reasonable commercial, but after it came on another commercial for Phillips. In this one the same kid, I swear the SAME fucking 2 year old, said "I wish they made a defibrillator that was so easy to use almost anybody could use it."

Huh? Dude, you're two. What do you know from palpitations? You barely have that "Stick the breast in the mouth, suck out the milk, don't bite too hard" sequence down, and now you're talking about a defibrillator? Hold your horses, Doogie. Seriously, even Dr. Howser was 5 before he started reading articles like "The Gallbladder, Does it Live Up to All the Hype?" in Popular Medicine.

Of course in addition to the weirdly precocious kid the very idea itself is...well...scary. DVD recorders are toys. They record entertaining programming on little flat discs that you can then lose or break or get delicious raspberry jam on before you have a chance to watch the programming. That's cool for a kid to use. He can record Sponge bob, or Teletubbies, or G-String Divas. Whatever he's in to.

Defribrillators are not toys. I don't want some terrible two year old shocking Grandpa's heart because it's fun. It's not safe to have one designed for kids to use, and frankly I'm willing to put up with a little bit of training required before someone can operate it. Have we really fallen so far in our culture that even potentially dangerous medical devices have to be usable by two year olds? The average American adult operates at LEAST at a fourth grade level, why not aim for there? I think a kid should be able to consistently go potty in the right place before he can attempt to restore proper heart function.

I looked around for someone to make a sarcastic comment to, and I realized I was alone. It made me a little sad. Here I was with this great absurdist moment of Americana and nobody to share it with. Of course then I realized that if there was someone around she almost certainly wouldn't care, and then after telling her I'd have to listen to her prattle on to something important to her, like why I left my underpants, which are growing an entirely new species of mold on them at an alarming rate, in the middle of the kitchen, or how I thought that "Baghdad, late 2003" was an appropriate state for a bathroom. Bitch bitch bitch. The moment quickly passed. Still it was poignant and it did affect me. My heart's still two sizes too small, but there was a tremor in that cold black organ. A tremor of regret and pain and loneliness and longing unfulfilled. So I made a poll! Here it is.

The first one is for things you are willing to share with others, the second is for anything you only want to tell me. I promise not to spread it around like it was fakingsincerity's lovejuice.

Share your pain (without mentioning sex, which is so obvious that if you DO mention it then you are instantly to be viewed as uncreative person of little substance, not to mention TERRIBLE BREATH) and through the sharing transcend it. Or don't. That scab post is still out there. I hear they had PVC piping!

Poll #500779 When do you want somebody to love?

When do you want somebody to love

When the truth is found to be lies
When all the joy within you dies
When the garden flowers baby are dead yes
When tears are running, running down your breast
When your friends baby, they treat you like a guest

What is your personal moment of desire?

Poll #500780 Secret Samedi

If there's something you want only me to see

  • Current Music
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