Balls and Walnuts
more than you ever wanted to know
Monthly Archives: November 2007
Porno Pimpage!
O’Brien did it. I could only imagine doing it, but she did it. She wrote a Thursday Thirteen composed of YouPorn video links.
Admittedly, it’s not a Thursday Thirteen (it’s a Thursday Nineteen, by my count), not all of the links go to YouPorn, and the links are so varied one would have a difficult time finding some overarching theme. Except for the porn, of course. “Favorite” YouPorn videos? No, some of these are pretty gross. “Most Interesting” YouPorn videos? Naw. She missed the one of the guy who put his whole head into a woman’s vagina*, and that one she’s watching here? I have standards. I won’t watch any YouPorns with a rating below 2.
(Seriously, that looked like one boring video. Far more interesting, and erotic, watching O’Brien’s reaction to that crappy video.)
She did it all for the sake of journalism. Once again proving that I chose the wrong profession. To think, right now I could be groveling before Mistress Matisse, and when Karen complains about it, I’d say, “It’s for this piece I’m writing. Deal with it.” Then I would race into the other room for my, “Bwahahahahahahaaaa!”
On the other hand, if I ever publish my romance, I can declare that my next novel will focus on the BDSM community, and I Must Do Research!
Yeah. That’ll work.
D.
*And another personal favorite, Woman Giving Birth To Cell Phone.
Thirteen diary quotes
My boy will be a teenager in one year. Guess I had better re-familiarize myself with adolescent angst . . . and how better to do accomplish that, than to pilfer my old diaries for quotes?
To be honest, this struck me as a horrible idea when I first thought of it. I was a depressed, nihilistic kid, and I tend to absorb that mood if I spend too much time futzing with the old diaries. Nevertheless, the first quote I found was so wonderful, it encouraged me to continue.
Another world
I’m recovering quickly, thanks. Been back at work for the last two days, and while that’s going well, I tend to be pretty exhausted by the end of the day. Fatigue saps creativity, of course, so tonight I was having trouble coming up with a blog topic.
I considered writing about unusual wikis, but aside from a really lame sex wiki, I couldn’t seem to find anything too weird. Then, SOMEHOW, I mean I don’t know HOW I always end up on this page, I ended up perusing Wikipedia’s list of fetishes and discovered two Japanese fetishes I hadn’t heard of before: zentai (skin-tight body suits) and omorashi (full bladder eroticism). That led me to an exploration of gyaru, which is, I gather, a collective noun describing various style-cliques common at one time or another among young women in Japan.
The young woman in the picture exemplifies ganguro. Ganguro girls are heavily tanned, use lots of “contouring make-up,” and lurve the color pink. Other gyaru styles include baika (biker chicks), yamanba (“the early form of Manba, characterized by over the top make-up and stickers of popular Disney characters or cartoons as well as jewels or stick-on earrings. The clothing style is heavy “I just got back from Hawaii” complete with lei’s on wrists, necks, ankles and even in hair. Thick Ganguro style “panda” make-up, and usually orange, hot pink, teal blue, blue or bleached white hair”), and my favorite, himegyaru:
Meaning Princess GAL it is a style characterized by pink make-up and long eyelashes as well as either tan or very light skin. Huge hair in a bouffant/beehive is practically the uniform. Himegyaru wear Liz Lisa typically because the brand sums up the style. Lots of fur and rich materials as well as lace and velvet are common. High heels are always a must, as well as a good structured handbag preferably white, black, or pink. Animal prints as well as rhinestones, roses, orchids, and other flowers. Pearl and cameo inlays and beadwork on nails is a big trend. Hair is teased up on top and curled tightly in spirals on the bottom. Hair color is always caramel, black, or dark brown. Rarely is hair dyed white and never unnatural colors.
They look like anime chicks, don’t they? Except humans don’t have those huge anime eyes.
Or do they? Meet Ukrainian model Masha Tielne.
I wish I had something profound to say about the wondrous variety of human cultures and the many notions of beauty, some of which seem transcendent, others, impossible for anyone outside the group to understand. But I’m tired. I ain’t got nothin’.
D.
A memory without pain
Let every man in mankind’s frailty
Consider his last day; and let none
Presume on his good fortune until he find
Life, at his death, a memory without pain.-Sophocles, Oedipus Rex
I wonder when we started dying in hospitals. Not by accident (we’ve been doing that, I’m sure, for as long as we’ve had hospitals), but by intention.
All four of my grandparents died in hospitals. My mother’s brother died alone, his body undiscovered for a few days; that’s even worse. But I’m not sure it matters where we die. Dead is dead, right? And yet, like many people, I play with the fantasy of dying in my own home with at least one loved one by my side.
Anyone in medicine can tell you stories of patients’ last days. Nearly all of the terminally ill grab for that desperate last chance — salvage chemotherapy, anyone? — rather than admit to the inevitable. Many times during training, my senior residents and my attending physicians would, when presented with one horrid diagnosis or another, say, “Someone should give him a one-way ticket to Hawaii and tell him to stock up on good booze and strong narcotics.”
Today, I finally met someone who decided to go to Hawaii.
He’s coming back, he says, and when he does, he’ll take that last stab at radiation therapy. But dammit, he’s going to enjoy Hawaii while he can. Radiation can wait; he’s gonna live.
I’m sad about his diagnosis, but I’m happy for him. Somehow, I don’t see this fellow dying in a hospital.
D.
The damages
This looks a lot worse than it feels.
I’m doing great today. I haven’t needed any pain meds, and it doesn’t even hurt to cough. Much. I should be fine for work tomorrow.
In addition to the hernia, I had my surgeon remove this:
See that pale, square area? This thing looks like I tried to remove a Charlie Manson tattoo using a spork. Don’t know if it’ll look any better after it heals, but for now, it looks like hell:
Me? Vain? Naaaah.
I’m gonna bail on live-blogging this weekend. You don’t need to see me yawn.
D.
NaBloPoMo: how tough can this be?
I mean, really. Post once a day for the month of November? Since I started this blog, I don’t think I’ve missed more than two or three days.
I like this kind of challenge. Far more rational than NaNoWriMo.
Tech geek flame warz
Flame wars take wildly various shapes depending on the nature of the forum, but the bottom line is usually the same: one poster believes “A,” the next poster says anyone who believes in “A” is an idiot, and the war is on*.
On my ENT forum, folks have fought over the age at which septoplasty is a safe operation; more recently, there was a big stink over one poster’s anti-Christian sig line. On Karen’s ArachnoBoards forum, arguments range from the sublime (bickering over the finer points of tarantula cladistics) to the ridiculous (“My spider bit me!” “Really? You’d have to be an idiot to get bitten!”) It always boils down to the same thing.
You’re stupid.
No, you’re stupid.
Only a stupid person would come up with such a lame response.
What amazes me: no matter how genuinely, ridiculously, and undeniably STUPID an idea might be, someone, usually several someones, will adopt that idea and defend it to his last breath. Case in point: high def TV aficionados and their high-priced power cords.