valentina

I think darkity's concert-goer characterizations are brilliant. There's a bar in the town I live in called The Zoo Bar that used to be a venue for all the best blues musicians. It was literally known world-wide. (The owner sold it, and it's just not the same.) Anyway, I had characterizations for various denizens of The Zoo, including The Zoo Bar Slut (tall, skinny, homely, rawboned women who waited until a guy was really drunk and then pounced), The Zoo Bar Liver Failures (guys who were always there who leaned drunkenly against the wall and mumbled lyrics to songs that weren't being sung by the people on stage) and Still Waters Run Shallow (good-looking men who stood around acting silent and mysterious, but were really too dumb to make conversation). Life is just a big psych/anthro lab, you know.

darkity, the thin mint scene! How it has been burned into my memory. If I live to be a really old, old woman, I will probably sit addled in a nursing home unable to do anything but repeat lines from that scene. It's a favorite subreference, especially at my office... they are so tired of my thin mint scene quotes. There's a really, really large man who's a lobbyist that comes to talk to me every now and then. Whenever he leaves, I always walk out and say to the secretaries: "Waiter, bring me a bucket!" And do you recall in that scene, when the elegantly-dressed woman who is dripping with vomit, is asked if there was any problem with dinner as she and her companion leave the restaurant? And she says, "Oh, no, my period is excessively heavy this month..." The women in my office are so sick of hearing me repeat that line. (With the British accent, of course.)

I was listening to Lucinda Williams song "Essence" on the way into work, and while it's an amazing song in its own twisted way, and I have to admit that I really like it because it just throbs sexual energy, the male reaction to it has always mystified me. I don't know if many of you listen to Lu, but I think of her as a southern gothic rock/folk/blues/alt country singer. She's just difficult to categorize. Her voice isn't very pretty, but her lyrics are so raw and real that they bleed. Her dad is Miller Williams, a nationally-known poet who read a poem at William Jefferson Clinton's* first inaguration. Lucinda hasn't exactly led a simple and idyllic life. Jesus Christ she has terrible taste in men, and I'm not sure that being happy and just a little bit content doesn't make her really really nervous, she's obsessive-compulsive about her music and apparently can be a real bitch to work with. But there's no one quite like her. She also has a certain physical appeal, in this hot mama biker chick sort of way. (She's even older than me, but I've seen some pretty young guys get worked up over her, so go figure.) Lots of sulky surly attitude with a distinct vulnerability. Gets 'em every time. So her song "Essence" is about a really obsessive stalker chick who wants her man and follows him all over the fucking place. And she wants him now, forever, and all the time, in a very twisted and addicted sort of way. ("shoot your love into my veins," "please come find me and help me get fucked up....") Printing the lyrics does not do justice to the song -- you have to listen to it. Her vocals, the guitars, the drums, the throb. I've seen Lu in concert twice, both times in a smallish theater/club, because Lu likes it that way. When the guitars kick into the opening bars of "Essence," men rush the stage like bull elephants chasing cows in heat, bellowing "LU! LU! YEAH! LU!!" I was aghast. I've always thought that the attraction to sick assholes who would make your life a living hell was a primarily female trait. Silly, silly me! I saw a small herd of goofballs who apparently have a fantasy that it would be cool to be stalked by a woman as hot as Lucinda Williams. Yeah, right fellows. Maybe it might be kind of cool to have it happen once. But that sort of shit doesn't happen once, and the boys would get mighty tired of it. Besides, women like Lu don't need to stalk men; they're too busy hiding from their stalkers and feeling miserable because they're in love with the one man in the world who doesn't know that they're alive. We humans, we're such perverse, perverse creatures! *It made me happy just to write out his whole name. It made me feel better just to think about him. You may have been an old poon-hound, Bill, but I miss you as President. A lot.

Isn't the term "poon-hound" just so fitting for some men? It's the kind of guy, like William Jefferson Clinton, who you know is just that way, but you still have to like 'em. They should know better, but they just can't help themselves when they mosey over and hump your leg. And they are never the stalkers! They cheerfully move on to another humpee. Edited again for spelling. Earlier, I was blaming my lack of attention to spelling on my dislike of Sark, but I don't have that excuse over here. This time I was either subconsciously aroused by the thought of Bill Clinton humping my leg (?!?!) or I simply can't spell today.

If you have the time, go to the BBC web site - www.bbc.co.uk In the search mode, enter "brain test" and the first result you will probably get is "Science - Sex ID." That link will take you to a very comprehensive test that is designed to gauge if your brain functions on a more typically male, or typically female basis. Be ready to take time and have a ruler available -- you'll be doing some measurements of your fingers (index and ring finger ratios can indicate exposure to testosterone in utero and the degree of exposure can affect brain function). This isn't one of those little fun tests -- it's rather comprehensive and it makes you use your brain in ways that might not be your typical mode. I have a male friend who took it who tested out as having more female way of thinking; this was no shock to him. He's the youngest child in a family with a stay-at-home mom and a military officer dad. He spent a lot of time growing up being exposed to a more female mindset. (And my friend isn't gay -- he's very straight, in case you were wondering.) I have a robustly hetero female acquaintance who last summer tested out as having a male mindset. Obviously, it's an indication of how your brain works, not your sexual identity. How'd I test out? Directly between male and female. Writing this made me think of a particularly idiotic quote from a politician of past years. Too bad that while he's still stooopid as hell, he seems almost innocuous in comparison to today's idiots: "What a waste it is to lose one's mind. Or not to have a mind is being very wasteful. How true that is." -- Dan Quayle

What a hoot... I scored horribly on the rearranged objects (pathetically, actually) and I did really well on the angles, and I was expecting to do badly there. What it showed me was that I can understand spatial problems if I try. That, of course, made me wonder what else I've been told I wouldn't excel at, so I just assumed I couldn't do it and didn't try very hard. So effectively, it made me question my underachiever status. That has always been the most interesting thing about that test to me, plus the fact that my friend Ron and I both scored in the middle and thus, were zeros on the scale. We now joke that if someone sees us and says: "What a couple of zeros," we can look back and say: "How did you know???"

Much more of this, and I'm going to start begging you to do icons for my favorite scents!! Beautiful icons!

Ah, sweetie, but you're studying a lot and being very serious about it, and valentina would guess that therein lies the source of your ennui. (Some people would say that my hobby is playing therapist... ) Nice photo! I can see all of you in that one... the actuary, the talk-all-night-in-the-coffeehouse student and the woman with the world's most gorgeous bellydance outfit. There's so much more to you now, do remember... plus you're gorgeous!

Do you like bubble baths? I luuuurve bubble baths. And I am a damn picky bitch about my bubble bath. I used to like the Kiss My Face Peaceful Patchouli bubble bath, but they changed the formula and the bubbles leave much to be desired. I went to Victoria's Secret last week (big shock there...) and got some of their bubble bath, and it's not bad. I got the Strawberries and Champagne scent, which is rather unlike me, but that scent combo has prurient associations (in my head only, not based on any actual experience) and I couldn't resist. I actually enjoy the V'Tae bath salts in the Sacred Fire scent. That is a really, really sexy scent that is also very comforting. Their verbiage on the package always gets me -- "Anoint. Intoxicate. Enchant. Goddess. Ritual. Magic." Ah, it evokes a web-spinner to me. I just wish they made it in a bubble bath. And I am a bit of a web-spinner. I don't mind spiders one little bit. I don't pick them up and play with them, but I tend to give them their space and I never want to hurt them. I once got rather upset with a secretary in my office who recounted screaming and running around her kitchen at the sight of a spider before beating it to death with a broom so hard that her kids couldn't even find the carcass when she was finished. The story kind of gave me a pain through the heart. I know we all have our phobias, but holy crap, show some restraint. Now how the hell did I get here from where I started, on bubble baths? Well let me tell you, if there's a spider in my tub and I want to take a bath, I get a magazine and respectfully move it to a secluded corner of the bathroom. They aren't stupid -- they'll stay away from hot water and bubbles. Off to my ritual and magic in bubbleland...

Agreed. My equanimity flies out the window with flying cockroaches. Ugh. A leeeetle tub for two??? I think you have your priorities in excellent order!!!!

That is so damn cool, your relationship with the Mister. Really, I find your post to be (and I don't use these words sarcastically, I really mean it!) sweet and touching. I think when people really love each other in a healthy manner, they are always open to changing, growing and morphing the the relationship based upon their mutual needs. And congratualtions upon the approaching closing on the new little home with the wonderful dormer bedroom and the astonishing hobbit door! It also looks like the kind of house that could have an adorable little clothesline in the back where darkity could hang her frilly panties!

Do you ever have one of those spells in your life, where you'd just like to put the universe on notice that he/she/it can stop tossing grenades in your path? That maybe you're just tired of dodging explosions in the road, and a bit o' smooth sailing might be a lovely change? Just long enough to have a little time to get some things figured out? I think some people are given a life of more combustables than others. And my life, for the last year, has been a series of big-ass explosions and smaller rumblings, more akin to a volcano getting ready to blow. I'm getting weary of it. Maybe if I could be a little more clueless, everything wouldn't seem so acute to me, but who wants to be clueless? Sometimes I think those of us who are rather gothic in our outlook are simply the people who just can't stop paying attention long enough to get clueless. Not that I can't be clueless about many things, but they usually aren't important enough to tranqulize me to what's going on. But I suppose to be awake to the difficulty of life is also to be awake to the gorgeousness of life, so why be a whiny-pants about it?

darkity, your comments spurred an utterly irreverant memory of the movie "Naked Gun," where Leslie Nielsen (the older guy with white hair) is talking to someone and says: "Oh yes, we'll all handle this like adults... won't we, MR POOPYPANTS????" I like to call pouty men "Mr. Poopypants." Fits. We may piss our lives away at times, but at least we don't drop a batch in our drawers.

Gorgeous icons!

valentina is curious whether darkity spent her weekend in an aural-induced 1980's trance...

Damn, I love "Say Anything" as much as you do. I LOVE the song "In Your Eyes" because it's a great song, and because every time I hear it, I look around for Lloyd with a boombox. And you have a Lloyd? Oh, lucky you. He sounds like a gem.

Let us know more... I'm glad things went well, and I'm hoping that things are still working out well. How old is your little girl? That is so sad when the wee ones have health conditions. It must be difficult as hell, being the parent.

Really, Jack Kerouac was once so amazing, and I would have shamelessly chased him around when he was young and beautiful and angsty and idealistic, before he became a totally gone alcoholic former hipster angrily spewing forth bloated hateful bile in his overly dominant mother's home in Florida, renouncing all of his hepcat Zen ways and pushing away everyone who had adored him. (That was a poor attempt to write just a bit like him.) So let's just look at him when he was so fine:

I think most of the Beats would have been lucky to have died in a head-on collison in their prime so they could have left behind a James Dean-like legacy, rather than their liver-spotted and rotted carcasses! But I still maintain that Jack would have been good for a 2-week fling. Just long enough to get really tired of him... "We turned at a dozen paces, for love is a duel, and looked up at each other for the last time." —Jack Kerouac

I did a little searching, and I found this site... not exactly what we want, but close. And look at the rest of the site...she has fun stuff! http://www.cafepress.com/opheliasart.10032102

Oh, absolutely. Trouble. Nothing but Trouble. Part of the attraction, I'm sure.

The domme of this blog spends way too much time trying to figure out why certain things happen. Way, way too much time, but she thinks she can somehow divine the workings of the universe. What bullshit! Sometimes it's very liberating to say "I don't know," and when one of the last living members of the Beat Generation and Zen wise man Gary Snyder tells you so, you might as well listen. Here's his quote: "I must confess that I don't have the faintest idea what my purpose is or what's going on. I became comfortable with that mystery a long time ago -- that I would never know how any of these things fit together in any explicit way." Yuppers, ya just have to roll with it sometimes. Actually, all of the time would be a good idea, but if I can do it just some of the time, I'm doing real well. And speaking of the Beats, was Jack Kerouac a babe or what?

She BLINDED me with SCIENCE! That video stands out as one of my '80's MTV memories. Hours of pinheaded bliss, watching videos. What the hell, it was fun. I love Sigur Ros. How cool that you get to see them. But you do live in a wonderful city with a great music scene. I'm just 45 minutes from Omaha, which weirdly enough, has a bit of an indie scene. Bright Eyes? Conor Oberst? That's all Omaha, ya know. We try to keep up. I yap about music enough on my blog for you to know, I'm just obsessed.

darkity, that is brilliant.