Balls and Walnuts
more than you ever wanted to know
Monthly Archives: March 2008
Get a room!
Ye who ken dreams well, interpret me this:
It’s Sunday morning and the wife and I are having sex. Everything is fine and dandy, but then I notice the big picture window behind our bed is wide open and the neighbors in the apartments next door can see into the bedroom without any trouble at all. No one is looking, mind you, but they could. It’s bloody distracting.
It takes an extraordinary effort to close the drapes — hey, it’s an old house, everything is buggy here — but in the end I am victorious, and we resume our activities.
Seconds later, the contractor and two of his guys traipse through, on their way from one part of the house to another. I cover Karen up, shout, “Hey!” and they apologize and leave by way of the full-service gym which has suddenly appeared in the back part of our bedroom.
If you blew off Steak and BJ day, don’t fret
You can still make it up to your disappointed man.
He waited all year for this day, and what did you do? Fixed him vegie burgers and gave him a kiss on the cheek good night. Maybe you didn’t understand his crestfallen expression; maybe you didn’t realize he had abstained from caffeine and alcohol and had been eating nothing but pineapple for the last three days. Maybe you didn’t notice the two inch-and-a-half-thick rib eye steaks he’d left in the fridge along with the note, TONIGHT’S THE NIGHT!!!!! And maybe you thought it was an accident that someone had changed your homepage to this one — on Firefox, Netscape, and Internet Explorer.
You don’t even use Internet Explorer.
So, now that you see the error of your ways, you want to do something to put your relationship back on track, and you don’t think you can afford to wait until any of those other holidays. What will you do?
Simply tell him, yes, you knew all about March 14, but you figured he would much rather celebrate April 14.
Special dinner
In college, my friend Sam lived in a co-op called Ridge Project. Once each quarter, they would have something called Special Dinner. The Special part was, I gather, the lack of Tuna Jello on the menu. Sam had me over for Special Dinner once, but I don’t remember what they served. I was too effed up on Olde English 800.
Hmm. Maybe that was the special part.
For tonight, I made filet mignon wrapped in bacon, seared on a cast iron pan, dressed in mushrooms and shallots; steamed broccoli; focaccia. Dessert: classic strawberry shortcake with buttermilk biscuits, fresh strawberries, and mascarpone whipped cream.
All dinners are Special at Chez Walnut. This has nothing to do with Steak and BJ Day.
***
Admittedly, I’m violating the spirit of the holiday by preparing the steak myself. St. Fellatia would not be pleased.
***
I was trying to explain chastity belts to Jake when I found this image. Owie.
***
Ever wonder what you get when you search Flickr for Steak and BJ Day? The answer below the cut.
Note to those of you who are fond of saying “I should know better than to follow your links”: DON’T GO BELOW THE CUT.
Thirteen Pets, Part 1
When old friends call, they ask about the pets. All through med school and residency, my wife and I were notorious for our critters. Never anything too exotic, mind you — I never did get that spider monkey I wanted so much as a kid (blame Curious George) — but exotic enough that our friends never forget the menagerie.
One of the neat things about a Thirteen is that it lets you see your life through a variety of lenses. I’ve done Thirteens on food, sex, crushes, dreams, patients, you name it. I’m flabbergasted that I’ve never done one on pets. Really. ‘Cuz I’m all about animals.
Caption Contest
I’m working on a Thirteen for later this evening. In the meantime, have fun with this.
An aside: doesn’t Spitzer’s wife look like she could be Jennifer Aniston’s mom?
D.
This is funny: What I Expect From MY 5500 Dollar A Night Hooker
A late SBD: caring
Hey, Beth, here’s another late one for SBD.
This isn’t funny anymore. WHO recommended this Nora Roberts book to me, huh? Fess up. Because this story is pissing the shit clean out of me.
I don’t care, that’s the thing. I don’t care about Cam, who had this privileged life tootling around Europe racing boats and dirt bikes, nailing Eurotrash in his spare time, buying pricey silk thong underwear, and now he’s stuck back in the States honoring a promise to his dead adoptive father who’s like a ghost now, only he (Ghost Dad) never says anything worthwhile, only, “You can do it, I know you can, you’re a Quinn.”
Guess I remember some things. His name is Cam Quinn. Sounds like a junior varsity cheerleader. But the book’s title? So not memorable.
The Something Tides. Rippling Tides? Festering Tides? I don’t know. First in the Chesapeake Saga. It’s a SAGA, for the love of God. That has to be worse than a trilogy, hell, a SAGA must be six seven eight nine books, and I can’t even get fired up about book one.
So. Cam. Adoptive Dad dies, has a Hollywood death which I’ve already bitched about (and oh, I see this one’s called Sea Swept, so I wasn’t even close, unless Random Nautical Title is close), makes his three sons swear to take care of young punk-ass Seth, Dad’s latest acquisition. See, all three of them, Cam, Moe, and Curly, they were all runaways who gravitated to Ghost Dad Quinn the way ferrets gravitate towards empty boxes and closed doors. But Seth, maybe he’s a real Quinn, which would mean Ghost Dad cheated on Mom.
zzzzzzzzzzzz
And there’s this social worker, Seth’s caseworker, and she’s supposed be this fugly librarian-looking chick one moment, hell on wheels the next. Cam has the hots for her, she has the hots for Cam because he looks good doing carpentry shit. I can’t remember her name, either. It took almost two hundred pages for them to end up in the sack and I still don’t feel any REAL magnetism between them, nothing that wasn’t artificially contrived by the author. I DON’T CARE if they shag and I don’t care if they don’t. I don’t care when Manny, Moe, and Cam fight like kids in the car because
zzzzzzzzzzzzz
Getting back to Cam. Why don’t I care about him? Because his life in Europe was shallow, not in the emotional sense (well, that too) but in the characterization sense. Because his desire to get back to his old life is neither interesting nor sympathetic simply because that old life feels and looks like a cheap postcard. Because he has no emotional life. We’re told (insert show and tell lecture here) the only woman he loved was his adoptive mother. But I don’t feel it. I don’t feel anything from Cam, least of all his passion for Ms. Social Worker.
Life’s too short for this. I’m in the mood for romance, and I’d prefer to try out a new writer other than my old standby Jennifer Crusie, but this book is so not worth it. I think I’ll reread that one Crusie novel about the guy who decided to become a detective more or less on a dare. THAT one had feeling. Or Bet Me. That was a good one, too. Both of those books had heroes and heroines I cared about.
Because in romance, if I don’t care about either the hero or the heroine — then what’s the point?
D.
Hell always sounded more interesting anyway
I mean, really, how horrible is this?
The Vatican has added seven new deadly sins:
accumulating obscene wealth*
polluting the environment
genetic engineering
drug dealing
abortion
paedophilia**
causing social injustice
I get nailed on genetic engineering: 1983-1997, here and there. I dabbled. None of my victims lived to squeak talk about it. Of course, they already had me dead to rights on Lust,
“Be gentle with me,” I said. “I’m a lot younger than you.”
“Doesn’t matter,” she purred. “You’re an animal.”
Raquel was twenty-seven, I was five. She changed my life forever.
When it comes to losing one’s soul, a child can do a lot worse. Anyway, it occurred to me the Vatican had left out a few deadly sins. I would add,
Destroying families by stealing from trust funds, wrecking their mortgages, etc.
Not bathing for weeks before seeing your doctor.
Bumping into and knocking over handicapped people in public places because you’re too caught up in your own personal drama to notice there’s a LITTLE WOMAN WITH A CANE RIGHT THERE IN FRONT OF YOU. (That one really pisses me off.)
Care to add a few?
D.
* From the comments at the Sydney Morning Herald story, linked above:
Did i just read that the Vatican have made accumulating obscene wealth a sin ?
Hmmmm, thats exactly what i thought the Vatican have done for the last 100 years.
Hmmmm, 100 years? But, yeah, that was our reaction, too.
** Um. Ditto.
Quick self-pimpage (with update)
I put up an old story of mine over at Daily Kos:
Not your typical political diary.
Only the oldest of old-timers here (like Pat) will remember this one — it’s from May ’05. And even then, I updated the story with a new revelation.
Enjoy.
D.
HOT DAMN! I made Diary Rescue!Â
Titles, arrrgh
I wrote about 2800 words today. Not bad, but if you look at that as a weekly total, not great, either.
Cracks me up what I’m using as the file’s title: my main character’s name, Lisa. Is that the best I can do? (Apparently so.) But I’m at a loss on this one. The novel wants a different shape than what I had intended — that whole Scheherezade thing may never materialize. I’m reluctant to give this a title without having some knowledge of the finished product.
How about you — when do you title your stories or novels? Do you wait until the end? If you title it at the beginning of the project, does that shape the direction of the work?
If I had to title it now, I think I would want something which resonated with those goofy 50s science fiction movies. Escape from Mars, Mars Needs Women, that sort of thing. Only we’re not going to Mars; but hell, where Lisa’s going, maybe it’s CALLED Mars without being Mars.
See? The title affects the project. Okay, then, maybe I could find a list of titles from 1950s SF movies. Just have to keep from getting distracted by a funny movie trailer. Grr.
Hmm . . . She Came From Outer Space, perhaps? (More accurate would be, She Came From Earth. Not bad!)
In other news: TUCKER CARLSON HAS BEEN CANCELED! WOOOOT!
D.
PS: Ever think how great it would be if the MST3K gang took on a BIG iconic movie? Wonder no longer.Â