The Real World ... Blogger Style: 12/01/2004 - 01/01/2005

Friday, December 31, 2004

Apologies as the New Year approaches

I think Amyjo was onto something when she apologized for being a brat.
We all must have something that we feel the need to apologize for, and this is a good a place as anything to air them.
Anyone?
Anyone?
Bueller?
Anyone?
Hahaha, I ran a spellcheck and Amyjo came up as amigo!
Anyone?

Wednesday, December 29, 2004

The Ugly Dress, a retraction

Instead of complaining bitterly about a bad gift, I am going to talk about the tsunami. How bout that tsunami? How about the magnitude of human suffering and the awesome and terrifying power of natural forces that can throw human lives into turmoil, that can sweep buildings and destinies to rubble within minutes? How about massive devastation, and the fact that suffering never seems to end? How about the fact that America is only donating 35 million dollars to help, even though we are rich and it is pocket change compared to what we spend on advertising, war mongering, and building Walmarts coast to coast? How about all the toothless, weeping faces hovering above starveling, dead or maimed children? How about all those pitiful corpses, robbed of lives so diverse and various and utterly unimaginable to someone sitting at a comfortable desk making this post? How about the fact that the world can change in an instant, and almost never for the better? How about the fact that the tidal wave was just the beginning of a chain of agony and loss that will reverberate for generations? People who had nothing lost everything, and I was complaining about looking fat? Shame on me. Boz, if you suggest I donate the dress to disaster relief I will kick you in the nuts.

I am deleting the ugly dress post. I am wiping it off the pages of this blog, the way the tsunami wiped out so many. And I hereby apologize to everyone everywhere for being such a brat.

Jonnie's Favorite Betty Page Pic


We all know that Betty Page pics are a recurring topic around here, as well they should be. I'm rummaging through old files stored on CD-RW during xmas holidays and I stumbled across my favorite Betty Page pic ever -



I scanned it from a book a couple of years ago.
I love the idea of injecting soup so you can get the nutritional value even if it tastes crappy.

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Monday, December 27, 2004

A Happy Happy and A Joy Joy

From the birds that mock me.

Merry Happy New Christmas Year

C.J. wants to wish you all a merry hoho and a happy whatever.



Oh, and me too.

Sunday, December 26, 2004

Do-do-do shooting from my front yard


A branch, from a tree, in my yard.

When Google just isn't enough

Try Speegle.
Trust me, you'll like if for about ten minutes.

Saturday, December 25, 2004

Christmas Charo

She's not just for telethons anymore - I woke up early for no apparent reason this morning and Charo was prancing around on the Today Show -




Good ol' Charo.

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Friday, December 24, 2004

Merry freaking Christmas

No jokes, no sarcasm, no irony just a sincere and simple wish for your hapiness during Christmas. If you have some christmas cheer to spare, send some to me.

Love from Rosa


Thursday, December 23, 2004

de nada!!!

so, in answer to my own question in the roll call comments, i got this answer as to why bono counts 1,2,3,14 in espanol...

The reason Bono skips from tres to catorce on that new song is because the same due who produced his first second and third album produced the this 14th.

ole!

If the Buddha smoked...

Since the holiday quiz was too bleak here's something completely different.

Smoking at Tassajara. http://www.sfzc.com/zmcindex.htm
There used to be a little deck overlooking the stream where smokers could congregate, watch the water, and indulge in the only vice available to them. You could smoke anytime you had a free minute--usually after meals or on work breaks. The smoke pit attracted a lot of bystanders who were starving for social contact in a place where "idle chatter" was actively discouraged, and where silence and solitude were paramount. Because the really super serious zen types never smoked, the pit had a real feeling of privacy (also a precious commodity there) informality, and freedom. It was kind of the outdoor equivalent of the basement rec room where suburban kids could fondle/smoke/fuck unseen by their parents. Anyway, these bystanders, such as myself, who were drawn by the atmosphere of the pit (perfumed with lovely tobacco smoke and the ever-present smell of sulphur from the hotsprings) eventually succumbed to the need to bond socially and began to suck butts anew.

Cigarettes were so precious it was almost like being in prison. We would save butts in a coffee can and smoke them when the cigarettes ran out. Some people would jones so bad they'd sift through the ashes in a desperate search for anything above a filter. Because the place was so remote, you couldn't get cigarettes unless you requested them on the once-a-month town trip, when the 4 wheel drive would descend the mountain and bring back supplies. Sometimes little zen miracles would occur, and fresh cigarettes would manifest, like when a friend of a zen student died and left him two cartons of Pall Malls in his will. Those Pall Malls kept us going for over a month. They tasted like ambrosia.

The older monks would come and smoke in total and utter silence, a little apart from us hormonally fizzed up, desperately lonely, immature addicts. Mostly they ignored us with dignity. (we were pretty obnoxious) It was really tremendous to watch a zen priest consume a cigarette with total absorption, put it out, and leave as silently as s/he came. The monastery dog, an arthritic and gallant border collie named Sanshi (and probably one of the most enlightened denizens of the place, in my opinion) , would follow us into the pit and sit under the sycamore with the rest of the pack-packing pack, wagging his tail in the dust and watching the fish in the water below. Occasionally a guest would come indulge in a pricey cigar--bohemian bourgeois types who would disrupt the whole vibe of the pit because they were rich and on vacation and we were serious students (haha. the serious students wouldn't come NEAR the smoke pit--it was a den of temptation, gossip, and vice. but the best view in Tassajara, and the only place you could talk about anything besides the Buddha. but it was there that I became addicted again. I haven't quit since. Smoking is a kind of social glue. There's nothing more powerful than an addictive substance to give people some common ground. )

Smoking was frowned upon for this reason. I don't even know if they let students smoke there anymore. I was part of the smoker's clique, and it was that particular group of us (rebellious, fucked up, disruptive, horny) that brought about changes in monastic policy. No smoking. No congregating.

Although in the 60s I swear they'd walk to and from the meditation hall holding offering trays with cigarettes dangling from the corners of their mouths. Times change. Baby boomers had all the fun.

Namaste, folks.

Wednesday, December 22, 2004

AmyJo's Bleak Holiday Quiz

After Christmas, some people look forward to ringing in the New Year, while others prefer to toll the bells of bleak mortality. In honor of those troubled souls, I have created the following quiz

ASK NOT FOR WHOM THE BELL TOLLS

1. Your worst holiday memory involves:
a) getting so many presents from adoring relatives you were nearly smothered in a mountain of wrapping paper
b) Santa trauma
c) Accidentally feeding your exotic pet after midnight with disastrous consequences
d) None: you are so depressed you are suffering from memory loss

2. Your favorite quote from "It's A Wonderful Life" is:
a) "Every time a bell rings an angel gets his wings"
b) "Merry Christmas Bert! Merry Christmas, Ernie!"
c) Anytime Uncle Billy says anything drunk and incoherent.
d) "Dear God, please just kill me now. I can't take it anymore. Kill me now."

3. To wassail means:
a) to go from door to door with rosy cheeks, singing and toasting all your beloved friends and hearty neighbors in perfect harmony and goodwill
b) It's a new extreme sport, like absailing
c) It involves sitting in a circle with a bunch of other freaks beating a cup on the table and screaming "Gooble gobble, gooble gobble!"
d) It's a kind of high-pitched, demented wailing--the sound a banshee makes before a death.

4. Christmas makes you
a) homicidal
b) suicidal
c) broke and hungover
d) all of the above

5. Jesus was born in a barn and laid in a manger. On Christmas day, where will you get laid?
a) Under the mistletoe
b) on a slab

Post your answers anonymously in the confessional and I will tell you what your score is and how to interpret it. Not as quick as a generator, but why not do things the old fashioned way, hmmm?

Swingline

"Um.....yeah.....I'm gonna need you to come in on Christmas to finish up those TPS reports......yeah......."

Tuesday, December 21, 2004

Roll Call

All house members please leave a comment here, outlining
1. Your state of physical health
2. Your state of mental health
3. Your state of existence (geographical, not metaphysical) this holiday season
I have a feeling we are a few heads shy on the playground.

Monday, December 20, 2004

Going down on C-Span by Alanis Morrisette

"I Think"

I Think Bush Lovers are really a huge problem
I Think Bush Haters are too much on my mind
I Think first time callers have got a lot to do with why the world sucks
But what can you do?

Like a black rain, beating down on me
Like an Ogden Nash line, which won't let go of my brain
Like Jillie's ass, it is in my head
Blame it on C-Span
Blame it on C-Span
Blame it on C-Span

I Think independents are gonna drive us all crazy
And Smart assed balding hosts make me feel like a child
I Think breaking away for presidential news conferences will eventually be the downfall of civilization
But what can you do? I said what can you do?

Like a black rain, beating down on me
Like an Ogden Nash line, which won't let go of my brain
Like Jillie's ass, it is in my head
Blame it on C-Span
Blame it on C-Span
Blame it on C-Span

Like a black rain, beating down on me
Like Jillie's smile, cruel and cold
Like Ogden Nash's ass, it is in my head
Blame it on C-Span
Blame it on C-Span
Blame it on C-Span

Morrissettian

"I Think"


I Think kidneys are really a huge problem
I Think evil poseurs are too much on my mind
I Think lying no-talent four-kidneyed narcissists have got a lot to do with why the world sucks
But what can you do?
Like a burnt umber rain, beating down on me
Like a Kurt Vonnegut line, which won't let go of my brain
Like Stevil's ass, it is in my head
Blame it on Kidney transplant poets
Blame it on Kidney transplant poets
Blame it on Kidney transplant poets
I Think stalkers are gonna drive us all crazy
And people who cheat on their aerobic-instructor wives make me feel like a child
I Think porn addicts will eventually be the downfall of civilization
But what can you do? I said what can you do?
Like a burnt umber rain, beating down on me
Like a Kurt Vonnegut line, which won't let go of my brain
Like Stevil's ass, it is in my head
Blame it on Kidney transplant poets
Blame it on Kidney transplant poets
Blame it on Kidney transplant poets
Like a burnt umber rain, beating down on me
Like Stevil's smile, cruel and cold
Like Kurt Vonnegut's ass, it is in my head
Blame it on Kidney transplant poets
Blame it on Kidney transplant poets
Blame it on Kidney transplant poets


A post for Jonnie

Since Jonnie is such a fan of emphysema, or whatever it is he calls that useless crap he likes to collect, I thought he might enjoy this site.

Grumble grumble grumble

Does it count as a post if all I do is grumble?

Sunday, December 19, 2004

im all oompapa-ed out

Well make sure you check out the link below to the lovable Mojo.
Last night was pretty awesome.. went here with a whole bunch of workmates and we had lots of fun. I looked incredible of course.. extremely sparkly and glittery and just gorgeous (heh heh) i actually took a good pic of some of the jewellry i wore last night.. you can find it here In addition to that sparkle i was also wearing the matching earings a sequined pink singlet, jewelled shoes (more on that later) and sparkly and shimmery makup and body lotion... i shone :)So anyway was feeling good.. the company was good... lots of laughter and general fun.. the beer was good (a little too good)and it was PACKED.. fortunately it was a ratio of about 5 (handsome young) men to every women (i like those odds :) )Anyhoo unfortunately i had to leave earlier than i had wanted because the person with whom i was going to stay for the night wanted to leave :( um... so we had to walk back to her mates place so that we could get her car... i suggested a cab but they said it wasnt a long walk. Keep note that i was wearing new shoes that were strappy and basically all jewelled on the top and the walk ended up taking just under 40 mins ( i was ropable.. and cranky) So my feet are shredded.. the worst blisters i have ever had.. i wont be able to wear shoes to school tomorow (flip flops for me) Im limping around grimacing with every step. (they are such pretty shoes and would have been fine.. i had danced and walked around all night with no problem.. they just werent made for cross country power walking)

So anyhoo it was an ok night.. although i did have a little too much to drink and lost my er... dinner at about 3 am this morning (then again at 7am)

hooray for kittens

As promised a pic of the adorable Mojo. lots more pics are posted on Kitty blog (yes the blog which belongs to my cat) *sigh*

Friday, December 17, 2004

My Alanis Song

Man, I love holiday breaks!
I've been hanging out over at the Alanis Morissette Lyric Generator for days.

Here's what it came up with -

"I Think"

I Think fuckers are really a huge problem
I Think bastards are too much on my mind
I Think people have got a lot to do with why the world sucks
But what can you do?

Like a black rain, beating down on me
Like a Donald Kilbuck line, which won't let go of my brain
Like ol' what's her name's ass, it is in my head
Blame it on bullshit
Blame it on bullshit
Blame it on bullshit

I Think dogs are gonna drive us all crazy
And cars make me feel like a child
I Think DVDs will eventually be the downfall of civilization
But what can you do? I said what can you do?

Like a black rain, beating down on me
Like a Donald Kilbuck line, which won't let go of my brain
Like ol' what's her name's ass, it is in my head
Blame it on bullshit
Blame it on bullshit
Blame it on bullshit

Like a black rain, beating down on me
Like ol' what's her name's smile, cruel and cold
Like Donald Kilbuck's ass, it is in my head
Blame it on bullshit
Blame it on bullshit
Blame it on bullshit

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Remember this blast from the past???

I wrote this quiz the first week of RW ... BS.





What basic cable channel are you?

Thursday, December 16, 2004

Best Xmas Gift EVER

Here's a transcript of the "christmas bonus" I got from one of my bosses:

"Amy I'm so glad you're here--I love talking about English Lit with you--a breath of fresh air. And now--just because you ARE here 9 kids in Africa get to sleep under a net!"

Where in Africa? I don't know. Who are these children? No idea. But don't say I never gave anything back to the global community. I can walk the streets with pride knowing that because of my existence, 9 children somewhere in deepest Africa (or coastal Africa?) are sleeping UNDER A NET. Let's hope it's not the kind of net they use to capture gladiators before selling them into slavery... Or could it be he meant THE Net--that these 9 kids only exist on a website? Bizarrer and Bizarrer...

Stupid video clips

I am a little hesitant in posting this clip. I don't want to give Jonnie any stupid ideas.

I'm making a list and checking it twice.

Some good little rw ... bs'er may find this in their stocking.



But wouldn't a better name be
PHALLICE?

Wednesday, December 15, 2004

A Major Award

Guess what Belle got her father for Christmas.
I'll give you a hint:
Fra-gee-lay. That must be Italian.

Phrenology!

I love pseudosciences.

Here's a link where you can read your own head!
http://www.bc.edu/bc_org/avp/cas/fnart/phrenology/phrenology_frames.html

And here's a great link the the Museum of Questionable Medical Devices. http://www.mtn.org/quack/welcome.htm
What medical devices of our day do you think will end up there?


Tuesday, December 14, 2004

Anagrams!

http://www.wordsmith.org/anagram/hof.html

This is a fun game to play. The server rearranges your name into all possible permutations--in english, deutsch, or french. It also rearranges various phrases, such as REAL WORLD BLOGGER STYLE into:

BAD OGLER, GROWLY TELLERS
WORLDY EGGBEATER ROLLS
OW! BEGGARS TELL DROLLERY
WELL BEGGARS ORDERLY LOT
GARBLER GOD SWEETLY ROLL

Monday, December 13, 2004

Keeping with our "Foodstuffs as Phallic Symbols" theme

I give you the humble cucumber.

MP3 Shuffle

I just posted this on Nacho, but thought it would be appropriate here as well.
I got it from Gooseneck, who saw it at Big Stupid Tommy's:

Instructions -
1. Open up the music player on your computer.

2. Set it to play your entire music collection.

3. Hit the “shuffle” command.

4. Tell us the title of the next ten songs that show up (with their musicians), no matter how embarrassing. That’s right, no skipping that Carpenters tune that will totally destroy your hip credibility. It’s time for total musical honesty. Write it up in your blog or journal and link back to at least a couple of the other sites where you saw this.

5. If you get the same artist twice, you may skip the second (or third, or etc.) occurances. You don’t have to, but since randomness could mean you end up with a list of ten song with five artists, you can if you want to.


Here's the first 5 -

1. 100% - Sonic Youth
2. Faster Horses - Tom T Hall
3. Lucky Number - Lene Lovich
4. Jambalya cover - Bob Wills & His Texas Playboys
5. Die, Alright! - Hives, the

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How do YOU eat it?

Those dumb GAP ads ask how you wear it. In honor of the year of the sausage, I'm asking you:
How do YOU eat it?

1) patty or link?
2) haggis or blutwurst?
3) with sauerkraut or without?
4) spicy mustard or good ol' yellow?
5) hotdog or hamburger?
6) polish or italian?
7) salami or bologna?
8) raw or cooked?
9) which kind of sausage goes best with a schooner of beer and a fraulein?
10) knockwurst or bratwurst?
11) Jimmy Dean: movie star or sausage king?

Bonus Question: have you ever or would you ever eat a Tofu pup? Why or why not?

Essay portion: Discuss the role of condiments in sausage eating. Does ketchup have a place in the condiment canon?

Curse you Jonnie!

I think that damn sausage post of Jonnie's is keeping everyone from posting.

Friday, December 10, 2004

((((bumping)))) Amyjo's twas the night before christmas to the top

twas the night before christmas
Twas the night before Christmas and all through the RW...BS house
not a zonkboard was stirring, no clicking of mouse.
The boys were well hung (but not that we cared)
thank god for the RW...BS motto: be prepared!

The bloggers were nestled all snug in their beds
while visions of naked dwarves danced through their heads.
How sweet, oh how peaceful, for what could go wrong
with Boz in his g-string and Mad in his thong?

Then up on the housetop there arose such a clatter
it was a wonder the bottles of beer didn't shatter
away to the window Boz flew like a flash
to witness Miss Rosa deep in a pash

with some guy in a red suit, an intruder no less
both hands were burrowing down the neck of her dress!
Then what to Bozzie's wondering eyes did appear
but a strange little "sleigh" and a tiny "reindeer"!

"Now don't try to tell me your name is St. Nick!
stop fondling Rosa and zip up your ---"
The intruder stood blushing with lust and with shame
when Boz began calling the RW...BSers by name

Hey Jonnie! Hey Sandra! Nancy! DVL!
Hey Amyjo and Marci and CJ and Belle!
The bloggers arrived, knuckled sleep from their eyes
and stared at the stranger in Santa's disguise.

"I'm sorry, he pleaded, it's just that, you see
I got sidetracked in surfing the Grand Ennui
your house seemed so welcoming, I just didn't think
you would mind if I visited, maybe give me a link?"

"I don't know," said their leader, "I really can't say
that your motives are pure, you did pash Olo-pay
and that outfit, it's velvet, which really seems strange
and the fur trim is fusty, developing mange

what's with the beard? and where's that old belly?
let's see you jiggle like a bowlful of jelly!"
"Stop torturing Santa!" cried the sweet Amyjo
"I like him." "You're just saying that because you're a HO"

"HO HO!" laughed the stranger, finger up his nose
his eyes all a twinkle, (it was rather gross)
"I just wanted to see if my theory's correct
do you make up in affection what you lack in respect?"

"The answer is no! Most emphatically no!
You bloggers are naughty and famously so!
You're wicked, you're pointless, you post silly pics
You don't think with your noggins, you think with your ___

You gaze at your navels, you mock your own peers
you comments consist almost solely of sneers.
You're a pack of hyenas! (How I hate to be right)
Crappy Christmas to all, and to all a good night."

"That wasn't Santa," Nance was quick to console
"that "jolly old elf" was more likely a troll.
We're all decent people! we're smart! and we're fun!
so screw that old bastard! God bless everyone!"

posted by AmyJo

Thursday, December 09, 2004

And More Xmas Blalalalalaloggy Style

The house was stunned into silence.
Suddenly Sandra started talking about Christmas in Germany, and as usual everybody tuned her out, until ...
She started talking about the Legend of the Christmas Wiener.
Sandra started, "In Germany it doesn't matter how good or how bad you are, the Christmas Wiener loves everyone".
She continued...

You hang empty intenstines from the mantel and the Christmas Weiner stuffs them with chopped meat and spices.

The christmas weiner is not to be confused with the Yule log, unless you have a dirty mind and think that everything refers to the penis. Cf. the "Yul log", a euphemism for the naughtiest part of the late Yul Brynner's anatomy.

Jonnie then piped in, "That's a lot better than our Gilliom Family Christmas tradition. Every year my mother would dress me up like a little girl and make me sit on Santa's lap."
Belle started laughing and said, "Well, that would explain ...

twas the night before christmas

Twas the night before Christmas and all through the RW...BS house
not a zonkboard was stirring, no clicking of mouse.
The boys were well hung (but not that we cared)
thank god for the RW...BS motto: be prepared!

The bloggers were nestled all snug in their beds
while visions of naked dwarves danced through their heads.
How sweet, oh how peaceful, for what could go wrong
with Boz in his g-string and Mad in his thong?

Then up on the housetop there arose such a clatter
it was a wonder the bottles of beer didn't shatter
away to the window Boz flew like a flash
to witness Miss Rosa deep in a pash

with some guy in a red suit, an intruder no less
both hands were burrowing down the neck of her dress!
Then what to Bozzie's wondering eyes did appear
but a strange little "sleigh" and a tiny "reindeer"!

"Now don't try to tell me your name is St. Nick!
stop fondling Rosa and zip up your ---"
The intruder stood blushing with lust and with shame
when Boz began calling the RW...BSers by name

Hey Jonnie! Hey Sandra! Nancy! DVL!
Hey Amyjo and Marci and CJ and Belle!
The bloggers arrived, knuckled sleep from their eyes
and stared at the stranger in Santa's disguise.

"I'm sorry, he pleaded, it's just that, you see
I got sidetracked in surfing the Grand Ennui
your house seemed so welcoming, I just didn't think
you would mind if I visited, maybe give me a link?"

"I don't know," said their leader, "I really can't say
that your motives are pure, you did pash Olo-pay
and that outfit, it's velvet, which really seems strange
and the fur trim is fusty, developing mange

what's with the beard?and where's that old belly?
let's see you jiggle like a bowlful of jelly!"
"Stop torturing Santa!" cried the sweet Amyjo
"I like him." "You're just saying that because you're a HO"

"HO HO!" laughed the stranger, finger up his nose
his eyes all a twinkle, (it was rather gross)
"I just wanted to see if my theory's correct
do you make up in affection what you lack in respect?"

"The answer is no! Most emphatically no!
You bloggers are naughty and famously so!
You're wicked, you're pointless, you post silly pics
You don't think with your noggins, you think with your ___

You gaze at your navels, you mock your own peers
you comments consist almost solely of sneers.
You're a pack of hyenas! (How I hate to be right)
Crappy Christmas to all, and to all a good night."

"That wasn't Santa," Nance was quick to console
"that "jolly old elf" was more likely a troll.
We're all decent people! we're smart! and we're fun!
so screw that old bastard! God bless everyone!"



A very bloggy Christmas continued

"Filth. Smut. Irony. Buggery. Bad puns. Misspellings. Inaccurate quizzes and endless discussions about spooge. I am afraid I am going to have to quarantine you all. We can't let this filthy house of ill repute spoil Christmas. I hereby declare, by Santa's orders, that this house is a No Christmas Zone."
And with that, he and his Team Members cordoned the RW...BS house in holly and exited noisily through the chimney.

The house was stunned into silence.
Suddenly Sandra started talking about Christmas in Germany, and as usual everybody tuned her out, until ...
She started talking about the Legend of the Christmas Wiener.
Sandra started, "In Germany it doesn't matter how good or how bad you are, the Christmas Wiener loves everyone".
She continued...

Wednesday, December 08, 2004

Time for another edition of ...

Caption this pic.



I'll start.

Contrary to urban legend these are not belle's uncles arriving early to escort her to the prom.

A RW ... BS Christmas

The complete story can now be found on the link in the sidebar over the zonkboard.

Xmas story

And he was suddenly seized by a religious fervor, the likes of which had never been seen by man. And throwing himself to his knees, Boz renounced his heathen ways, vowing never to dabble in bondage, bestiality, or republicanism again. "God bless us every one!" he cried.Boz was overwhelmed as he went up to each and every house member one by one to embrace them.And just as Boz reached out to Jonnie ...Amyjo chimed in, "Wow, I really love that song with the man/boy love overtones!"

Suddenly a SWAT team of elves crashed through the plate glass window and surrounded the bloggers. Each elf waved a sheet of paper wildly.
"Ephemera!" cried Jonnie, "just what I wanted for Christmas!"
"I'm afraid not son," replied an elf, adjusting the bell on his winklepicker. "These here are the naughty/nice lists. And you have all been VERY. VERY. BAD. Allow me to consult my dossier."
He flourished the notes.
"Filth. Smut. Irony. Buggery. Bad puns. Misspellings. Inaccurate quizzes and endless discussions about spooge. I am afraid I am going to have to quarantine you all. We can't let this filthy house of ill repute spoil Christmas. I hereby declare, by Santa's orders, that this house is a No Christmas Zone."
And with that, he and his Team Members cordoned the RW...BS house in holly and exited noisily through the chimney.

Tuesday, December 07, 2004

A Crispness Story continued

Boz stood in the den looking around. He wanted the placement of the first Real World ... Blogger Style Christmas tree to be perfect and from where he stood the perfect place just happened to be where Sandra and Dvl kept their suspension harnesses and restraints. Boz knew this would be a touchy subject to deal with. Then it came to him: he could hang the devices on (and later, if the ladies wanted it, from) the tree! They would be festive and accessible. Weren't cat-o-nines better than candy canes? Boz thought so. Gloating (as usual) over his own cleverness, Boz decked the tree in leather, chrome, and rubber, trimmed it with handcuffs and paddles from his own personal stash. He discovered that bright red ball gags made cheerful ornaments (reminiscent of Rudolph and all that), and that cleverly festooned bullwhips were as good (if not better) than tinsel. As a final stroke, Boz placed a glowing phallus on the tippy tip top of the tree. Then he plugged it in. The whole tree quivered, it shook, it dropped its baby soft needles all over the carpet. The vibrator's pulsations were so powerful that soon the entire tree was balder than a bimbo with a brazilian, utterly defoliated!
"O no! " thought Boz, "I have ruined Christmas."
In his moment of deepest despair Boz heard carolers.
He perked up and wiped the tears from his eyes.
There they were, the rest of the house, hand in hand, singing Good King Wenceslas

Good King Wenceslas looked out on the Feast of Stephen,
When the snow lay round about, deep and crisp and even.
Brightly shone the moon that night, though the frost was cruel,
When a poor man came in sight, gathering winter fuel.

“Hither, page, and stand by me, if you know it, telling,
Yonder peasant, who is he? Where and what his dwelling?”
“Sire, he lives a good league hence, underneath the mountain,
Right against the forest fence, by Saint Agnes’ fountain.”
“Bring me food and bring me wine, bring me pine logs hither,
You and I will see him dine, when we bear them thither.”
Page and monarch, forth they went, forth they went together,
Through the cold wind’s wild lament and the bitter weather.

“Sire, the night is darker now, and the wind blows stronger,
Fails my heart, I know not how; I can go no longer.”
“Mark my footsteps, my good page, tread now in them boldly,
You shall find the winter’s rage freeze your blood less coldly.”

In his master’s steps he trod, where the snow lay dinted;
Heat was in the very sod which the saint had printed.
Therefore, Christian men, be sure, wealth or rank possessing,
You who now will bless the poor shall yourselves find blessing.


"Damn," thought Boz, "Someone actually knows the lyrics to that song?"

And he was suddenly seized by a religious fervor, the likes of which had never been seen by man. And throwing himself to his knees, Boz renounced his heathen ways, vowing never to dabble in bondage, bestiality, or republicanism again. "God bless us every one!" he cried.

Boz was overwhelmed as he went up to each and every house member one by one to embrace them.
And just as Boz reached out to Jonnie ...

Amyjo chimed in, "Wow, I really love that song with the man/boy love overtones!"


A Crispness Story, cont.

...."Damn," thought Boz, "Someone actually knows the lyrics to that song?"

And he was suddenly seized by a religious fervor, the likes of which had never been seen by man. And throwing himself to his knees, Boz renounced his heathen ways, vowing never to dabble in bondage, bestiality, or republicanism again. "God bless us every one!" he cried.

Talking about the perfect Christmas gift...

Clickety click.
And yes, it is what you think it is.

A Crispness Story

Boz stood in the den looking around. He wanted the placement of the first Real World ... Blogger Style Christmas tree to be perfect and from where he stood the perfect place just happened to be where Sandra and Dvl kept their suspension harnesses and restraints. Boz knew this would be a touchy subject to deal with. Then it came to him: he could hang the devices on (and later, if the ladies wanted it, from) the tree! They would be festive and accessible. Weren't cat-o-nines better than candy canes? Boz thought so. Gloating (as usual) over his own cleverness, Boz decked the tree in leather, chrome, and rubber, trimmed it with handcuffs and paddles from his own personal stash. He discovered that bright red ball gags made cheerful ornaments (reminiscent of Rudolph and all that), and that cleverly festooned bullwhips were as good (if not better) than tinsel. As a final stroke, Boz placed a glowing phallus on the tippy tip top of the tree. Then he plugged it in. The whole tree quivered, it shook, it dropped its baby soft needles all over the carpet. The vibrator's pulsations were so powerful that soon the entire tree was balder than a bimbo with a brazilian, utterly defoliated!
"O no! " thought Boz, "I have ruined Christmas."
In his moment of deepest despair Boz heard carolers.
He perked up and wiped the tears from his eyes.
There they were, the rest of the house, hand in hand, singing Good King Wenceslas

Good King Wenceslas looked out on the Feast of Stephen,
When the snow lay round about, deep and crisp and even.
Brightly shone the moon that night, though the frost was cruel,
When a poor man came in sight, gathering winter fuel.

“Hither, page, and stand by me, if you know it, telling,
Yonder peasant, who is he? Where and what his dwelling?”
“Sire, he lives a good league hence, underneath the mountain,
Right against the forest fence, by Saint Agnes’ fountain.”
“Bring me food and bring me wine, bring me pine logs hither,
You and I will see him dine, when we bear them thither.”
Page and monarch, forth they went, forth they went together,
Through the cold wind’s wild lament and the bitter weather.

“Sire, the night is darker now, and the wind blows stronger,
Fails my heart, I know not how; I can go no longer.”
“Mark my footsteps, my good page, tread now in them boldly,
You shall find the winter’s rage freeze your blood less coldly.”

In his master’s steps he trod, where the snow lay dinted;
Heat was in the very sod which the saint had printed.
Therefore, Christian men, be sure, wealth or rank possessing,
You who now will bless the poor shall yourselves find blessing.


"Damn," thought Boz, "Someone actually knows the lyrics to that song?"

Monday, December 06, 2004

XXXmas story

Boz stood in the den looking around. He wanted the placement of the first Real World ... Blogger Style Christmas tree to be perfect and from where he stood the perfect place just happened to be where Sandra and Dvl kept their suspension harnesses and restraints. Boz knew this would be a touchy subject to deal with. Then it came to him: he could hang the devices on (and later, if the ladies wanted it, from) the tree! They would be festive and accessible. Weren't cat-o-nines better than candy canes? Boz thought so. Gloating (as usual) over his own cleverness, Boz decked the tree in leather, chrome, and rubber, trimmed it with handcuffs and paddles from his own personal stash. He discovered that bright red ball gags made cheerful ornaments (reminiscent of Rudolph and all that), and that cleverly festooned bullwhips were as good (if not better) than tinsel. As a final stroke, Boz placed a glowing phallus on the tippy tip top of the tree. Then he plugged it in. The whole tree quivered, it shook, it dropped its baby soft needles all over the carpet. The vibrator's pulsations were so powerful that soon the entire tree was balder than a bimbo with a brazilian, utterly defoliated!
"O no! " thought Boz, "I have ruined Christmas."

Create a Christmas story

Let's create our own Real World ... Blogger Style Christmas story.
I'll start out by furnishing a title and an opening line and then we can go back and forth adding bits and pieces to the story as we go along until December 23rd. Every time you add a bit cut and paste what came before it and make a new post.
Ok?
Ok.
I'll start.

A Real World ... Christmas Story
Boz stood in the den looking around. He wanted the placement of the first Real World ... Blogger Style Christmas tree to be perfect and from where he stood the perfect place just happened to be where Sandra and Dvl kept their suspension harnesses and restraints. Boz knew this would be a touchy subject to deal with.

Friday, December 03, 2004

heh heh

You're a News from My So-Called Life Blogger!
What Kind of Blogger are You?


Hell's Bells! You're a NFMSCL blogger! The world reads your blog daily, waiting for the latest events of your life to unfold like some kind of local newscast/soap opera. On the whole you're very business-like with your delivery, which makes your blog sort of boring. :/ Still, a few people DO visit your blog, mostly for the links you post.
Typical NFMSCL Blog Post
"I went to South Coast Plaza today to replace the chemise my cat tore up the other night. I found a new one. More on that later."

My Blogger-type

You're a Tortured Celeb Blogger!
What Kind of Blogger are You?


"You tragic soul... once, lifetimes ago you wrote/drew/whatevered something that people liked, and now they won't. fucking. leave. you. alone! Whenever you pop open Outlook Express you get upwards of 5 messages DEMANDING the next chapter in your epic drammedy fantasy novella or the next part of your maudlin webcomic about Trent Reznor. Your posts are essentially a flood of apologies, explanations, and occasionally rants about your creation; you are rarely fun to read."

Typical Tortured Celeb Blog Post

"I'm rather sorry about delaying the latest chapter of Dusk Dreams, but my life is once again getting in the way. Thank you to all the dears who support me during this trying period of my life. It is quite hard to keep Dusk Dreams as dynamic as it has been for the last 10 chapters, quite hard indeed. Often I must stay up late into the night to see the shape of the latest chapter or my writing will be mediocre to say the least. I doubt many of you are able to appreciate how arduous the fan fiction formulation method is."

"Tortured soul", my ass!
Nobody has ever emailed me about my blog.
I am a failed "tortured soul".

This is so true, so very true

You're a Consultant Blogger!
What Kind of Blogger are You?


You are the creamy caramel centre of your clique of friends, and you know it. Leader, consultant (naturally), mediator, all of these responsibilities drop on your shoulders. Unluckily enough, you've made friends with about 11 or 12 infants who are both incapable of speaking with one another and incapable of solving their own problems. Your blog isn't technically a blog anymore, it's now more or less a BBS where your friends bitch at you, but it's a damn interesting read (especially when your friends are sluts).

Can you see me?

Thursday, December 02, 2004

S.F. vs. L.A.

The lighting is more flattering in San Francisco. The fog acts as a soft focus filter, airbrushing one's imperfections. In LA the sun and the body culture give everyone hypersonic xray vision.

An example of why I would NEVER live in LA:

I was at Thanksgiving dinner with my family and friends and I was flirting with a guy who lives in LA. I was being fabulous, flashing him my most winning smiles, we were both a bit drunk and suddenly he leaned in, scrutinizing me. He said "do you smoke?" and I said, "sometimes, how did you know?" (I don't smell smoky, I only smoke 1 a day, hadn't had any that day) and he said, "you have a little line of nicotine stain on your teeth." I was totally crushed! I stopped smiling. He said, "I only recognize it because I had the same thing, but I had mine done." I was mortified. This is what happens to people in LA, they notice every single goddamned imperfection. I thought, shit, if he notices my teeth (I searched in the mirror for fifteen minutes and could not see what he was talking about) then what does he make of the wrinkles, flab, etc? Totally crushing. Even when you feel fabulous, if the flirtee is from LA they won't be dazzled. They'll just notice the stains on your teeth.

Wednesday, December 01, 2004

That darn Rosa

Rosa is all upset because of this post. So I edited it for her. I mean geez, I for one think we should all go by our real names in here.
Ok, I'll start it off.
My real name is Corky Uranus.
I'm not lying, see.
Next?

Dear Fellow RW ... BSers

I am in serious need of some kind of energy boost because, my get up and go has got up and went. Are any of these so called energy drinks any good? I've heard that Red Bull is kind of good but it tastes like a steel belted radial after 5000 miles of bad road.
Any thoughts?
Any suggestions?
Bueller?
Bueller?
Anything?
Yours truly
Boz