Month: March 2010

where my gerunds at??

The ever ineffeble, highly hilarious Reggie Watts has a new project, DVD/CD combo “Why Sh_t So Crazy”. Here’s the bizarrely compelling promotional video, F_CK SH_T STACK:

Notes:

It is entirely worth it to get past the initial swearing. For serious yes.
Also, Tony, those back up dancers, for indentificational purposes, those are hipsters.

why I went brita and in part why I don’t drink soda pop

  • The Story of Bottled Water
  • Fiji Water: The only brand of bottled water supported by a corrupt military dictatorship.
  • World Water Day. (According to the UN, dirty water kills more people than violence.)
  • Lewis Black talks sharp about bottled water.
  • The Great Pacific Garbage Patch. (As recently discussed on the David Letterman show by Charles Moore: Pt 1, Pt 2.)
  • Living without plastic.
  • Chris Jordan’s documentary photographs of albatross dead from eating plastic.

    • for the record (yes there is video no you can’t see it)

    HIVE3 was as entertaining as ever, yet in spite of the pushy blow up doll horror movie incident, the near death experience, the cupcake rape-baby incest kiss, and the skunk suicide therapy, the most epic thing I witnessed this weekend was in my apartment: late yesterday afternoon, Lung manfully inflicted a brilliant and surpassingly brave four minute lapdance upon Victoria, my very surprised mother.

    Lung’s astonishing strip-tease started mildly, with slow hip swings and mild gyration, but gained momentum as clothes came off, until he was throwing pants at my head and using his belt to better capture my mother, finally finishing with a shocking yet shamefully victorous Full Monty flourish of his genitals.

    No word yet on if he left on his socks.

    happy KLAATU birthday BERADA sunday NIKTO tea

    Ray & Tony’s Super Duper Sci-Fi Horror Movie Double Feature Outrageous Day and Night Of Birthday!

    bettmann - moon bridal hat - boston - 1956

    March 21st
    560 Mclean
    noon – 11:30


    Sunday Tea is a roving Vancouver tradition, an open-invite social event held weekly at different venues, generally from 11am-ish to 2pm-ish, depending on the hosts. Basically, if you’re reading this, you’re invited and so are all your cupcakes, cookies, and most fun friends. This tea is in honour of Ray and Tony’s birthdays, (March 16th and 19th, respectively), and goes from noon until it blends into our Sci-Fi Double Feature, (Eden’s Log & Pandorum), which starts at seven. (They knows nothing about either film, by the way, make sure not to give anything away!) There will be tea and cake! BYO-anything else. Pyjamas welcome, nudity discouraged. We urge people to bring not only the usual trappings of Sunday Tea, which are tasty snacks and good people, but also party hats, just for fun.

    General rules for Tea are: New people are excellent, children are welcome, tasty things and interesting kinds of tea are encouraged, but no TimBits are allowed.

    Allergy note: our household contains two cats and some nuts.

    going on the wall above my bed

    Tony and I scored some awfully sweet treats at the Emerald City ComicCon on Sunday, (especially at the TopatoCo booth, where Tony picked up both Wondermark books, a Futurism poster, “Building a fake future in the hopes that the real future will show up to mate with it”, the Dresdon Kodak Biscuit Science shirt, Questionable Content’s glow-in-the-dark cat-with-a-rocket-pack Science is a Verb Now shirt, and Kate Beaton’s new book, Never Learn Anything From History), but one of my absolute favourites has to be a print of Powder, by Ben Walker:

    Ben insists they are locked in mortal combat, (“Look at the blood and claws! You don’t know who will win.”), but we prefer our interpretation, that the moose and mighty jackalope are merely rough-housing, thundering together in epic no-holds-barred two ton tickle-fight. See that open mouth? The jackalope is laughing, its chittering squeals of merriment and mirth loud enough to shatter glass.

    just one of those things

    His body shifts and I wonder if it’s automatic, my mind almost on other things. Abruptly, however, a flash, headlong, hurried, intense as something, suddenly, is very, very right. It is like a switch has flipped. I am concentrated. My body becomes fierce and my words slip away, pushed away by this unforeseen, lovely surprise.

    (It doesn’t last, of course. There’s never enough time to get it where it needs to go, but that’s another story.)

    I read about sex in novels, in science studies, in stumbled little webzines and in You and Your Body books pressed into my hands by worried boyfriends, (hoping, I suppose, that I shall discover how to fix how I am apparently broken), and never do they describe the immediacy I experience, the severity, how fast it happens, how disengaged I can be before. Always they write about sweet climbing momentum, gentle swells, an upward glide into pleasure leading like foothills to some final poignant apex no one seems to have words for, as if sex were oceanic and mysterious instead of a cliff. Or they write about fucking, fast powerful sex that racks the body with rushing orgasms, rapid spasms of keen, overpowering whatever it is. “Waves of exquisite pleasure overwhelmed her body” it says on page 45, but nowhere in my history can I find a similar sugar crumb trail of slow sticky nights or sensuous afternoons. Instead, if I am very lucky, there is an absolute point of sudden, violent desire. A severe, immediate, precipitous change when things get interesting. It is swift and always unexpected, a quickening that hits quickly, and without it, sex is only exciting for other people, something to smile with, about, yet through.

    I check the name of the author. Female, same as the last few times. I wonder again, as always, how it is that I have been doing it wrong.