Oh yeah.
But especially not the dorky ones. They’re really not me.
September 6, 2010
September 4, 2010
An Interpretation and Discussion
I have decided to do something rather new, and today I will be discussing some lyrical poetry with rather deep meaning. I’ll be going over a young woman’s call for understanding and acceptance, an attempt to move forward the acceptance of female sexuality and a woman’s needs, while simultaneously decrying the state of courtship and meaningless attempts to impress young women by young men. I will be discussing the song and art piece “Blah Blah Blah” by Ke$ha.
She establishes her discontent with the courting ritual from the start of the song — “Coming out your mouth with your blah blah blah. Zip your lips like a padlock.” She has no desire for cliche pickup lines or boastful attempts to impress her. Rather, she wants to drink and dance — “Meet me in the back with the Jack and the jukebox.” The idea of being past mindless verbal relating is reinforced in the next stanza: “Don’t be a little bitch with your chit chat. Just show me where your dick is at.”
The final line there, her insistent request to see the male’s sex organ, is her way of expressing her sexual needs. To quote Banky Edwards(1), she is seeking some “deep dicking.” Later in the song she implies that they won’t be “getting this” in the back of her car “if you keep talking that blah blah blah…”, reinforcing her desire to move past his weak show of all feathers — and no peacock. “I wanna dance with no pants on” — Ke$ha desires to express her sexuality, to show her most womanly parts and be proud of them, accepted for the innate representation of her sexual desires that they are.
“I know you don’t care what my middle name is” — refudiating his “chit chat” once again — “I wanna be naked and you’re wasted” — perhaps in this instance her use of the word wasted does not refer to his sobriety, but to his wasting their time. Or perhaps it is a refence to what is commonly referred to as “whisky dick”(2), an inability to get and maintain an erection that is satisfactory to ones female partner. Perhaps it is not even a physical whisky dick, but rather a mental one. The male in her story is unable to perform because he cannot except her open sexual needs. He is confused as he isn’t used to a woman being open with her feelings and desires — by cutting the “blah blah blah” she has thrown him off his game.
The song ends as it begins with Ke$ha requesting, in no uncertain terms, that her potential partner STFU(3). She leaves us wondering if he ever does, perhaps for another song.
1 – http://www.imdb.com/character/ch0001304/quotes
2 – http://www.urbandictionary.com/define.php?term=whisky%20dick
3 – http://uncyclopedia.wikia.com/wiki/HowTo:Shut_the_fuck_up
August 31, 2010
Microsoft Sucks.
Two things happened today that made me hate Microsoft again:
1. At work we found a bug in Excel that screwed up a lot of graphs. It basically gives the wrong coefficient of determination on graphs. We checked in the much-better-software Origin, and then used the RSQ function in Excel — those give the right number. But the graphs display a faulty (and sometimes NEGATIVE!) R^2.
That is not possible.
2. At home the stupid Windows install that had some malware before had it again. Apparently I didn’t get all of it last time.
Seriously, that is fucking irritating. I nuked it again, nuked it from Linux, ran some anti-malware stuff… what I’m going to end up doing is just erasing the motherfucking Windows partition and starting anew. Perhaps without network access for the Windows machine.
August 28, 2010
Dear Parents,
Look, I know you like restaraunts. Me too. I know kids like them, too. We take the girls to them on occasion. Here’s the thing. If your kid is coughing so hard it sounds like he has “the consumption” it’d be nice if you didn’t bring Typhoid Marty to any place where other human beings are going to be. I’m not saying you should quarantine him, except that I am in fact saying that.
Bringing your kid or grandkid or the random street urchin you found at Wal-Mart around the rest of us in an enclosed space is what we in the real world call selfish. You are infecting us so that you can come out and play. You lose that right when you have a kid. You can play, but only when someone else is watching your kid.
This applies to movies as well. The wife and I went to an R-rated horror flick a few months back. I want to say it was the Halloween II remake by Rob Zombie. Aka, a freaking gore fest. There was a family in there with like a six year old. Seriously? You think your kid needs to see that?
I’m not saying once you have kids, your life is over. That’s stupid. We go places all the time — but we don’t take the girls to grown-up movies, we don’t take them out when they’re carrying the plague, and we don’t take them to places they’ll hate just because we want to go. Because that isn’t fair to them (or particularly good for them) or the other adults there.
There are sacrifices with parenthood. This is one of them.
August 25, 2010
No S and Shovelglove update
So a residual effect of the No S and Shovelglove — I’m eating more healthy on the “S Days” too. And I’ve lost another pound and a half — bringing me up to 2.5 in the last two weeks. Woo hoo.
I’ve also gotten surprisingly used to the structure of not snacking in under a month. The weight loss doesn’t hurt, either — once I saw that I’d lost another pound I wanted to stick to everything even harder.
As for the shovelglove — I’ve made it a regular part of my day. I’ve forced myself to do it when I don’t want to. And I’m also seeing results — my arms are getting more defined.
The two in tandem are definitely good.
More updates as the weight drops. I’ll be in rockin’ shape eventually.
August 23, 2010
Around the House
Wasps and Windows
Sunday I slipped on a pair of shorts. And about two inches above my knee I immediately felt the stinging pain of being stung by a wasp. Twice. The bastard made her escape into the master bedroom and promptly disappeared for over an hour. When she ventured out, she vanished again after being spotted. To get a measure of revenge, I turned on some “Ke$ha” on my rather large speaker system, turned the bass all the way up, and left the room. We shall see, bug.
Well right at bed time Bendy spotted the bitch hanging on the drapes, about a half a foot from the top. I was prompt with the spray and aced her. She crawled to the top of the curtain, gasped her last, and fell to the floor, dead. Vengeance and victory: Mine.
In the mean time, we discovered that Bendy’s computer had been, for lack of a better term, “teh pwnz0red.” Only the Windows install (of course). Which is really pathetic — she goes to a handful of sites, none of them are off ill-repute. The system is patched and I keep a watch on it.
This wasn’t the nastiest infection I’ve dealt with; I was able to eliminate the problem with a generous dosage of ass-kicking in safe-mode and msconfig. However, there was one file that persisted and I could not delete even through safe mode. We shall see, I says. (I assumed all files that were created in specific directories after a certain time were vile.)
I booted into Ubuntu Linux, mounted the Windows partition like the bitch it was, and erased the file. Problem. Fucking. Solved.
So sad: Linux has to be used to save Windows. Guess which one costs money. Yeah. (Of course, 90.210% of the work where I work takes place in Linux, too.) Seriously, how hard is it to make sure your OS isn’t full of holes?
August 17, 2010
The Perfect Burn II
Months ago I outlined many projects I’m working on. This is an update:
Basically, I’ve gotten nothing done. I finished rereading the first novel I finished, The Five. I finished writing the sequel, The Beloved, but now I think there’s more I need to do.
The next undertaking will be another go at getting The Five published. Then I’ll look at the sequel again.
The Last Cigar hasn’t went anywhere. But I still think about it.
I’ve moved more toward dressing up more at work — bought some ties, another suit jacket, dress pants, etc. Which is good, as I’ll end up wearing a tie for the next two or three days at work. There’s something about a suit and tie that I enjoy. Maybe that’s part of what’s wrong with my brain.
August 16, 2010
Down a pound.
Two weeks into No S and Shovelglove and I’m down a pound. 241. I figure roughly 58 to go. The Wii thinks I should be 157.2 pounds (to be exact), but I figure in the 180s I’ll still look human. At 157 the Bendy wife would leave me for a man who doesn’t look like Sally Struthers should be trying to get you to give him ten cents a day.
So right now, having had the last meal of the day and done the exercise, I am on the porch with a new cigar — a Finck’s 1893. It’s a nice hand rolled smoker. First one, though, and it has a good hour left on it, so not sure where to rank it. So far it’s pretty good.
The humidor is getting fuller. I still need to hot glue the humidifiers back in place — the damn factory glue just isn’t holding. Right now I have around 40 cigars in it, and it will supposedly hold 300. I’m not sure where they got that figure — I’ll be surprised if it holds half that. But I don’t have a pressing need for 300 cigars at a time.
Right now I’m stocking it mostly with “rejects” or “seconds.” The best of those so far remains the Santiago Seconds, but the Finck’s Rejects aren’t bad at all for a dollar a stick. I bought some “Dominican Segundos” from Finck’s with the 1893s, so those’ll be interesting to try. They look similar to the Santiago Seconds.
I also tried a Montecristo Classic. It didn’t dethrone the White, but it was a damn good cigar. There’s just something about the white label Montecristo that I can’t get enough of.
August 9, 2010
No S and Shovelglove.
Since Monday last week I’ve been sticking to the No S Diet. I’ve also started the Shovelglove exercises. I didn’t think to weigh myself last week, but today when I got on the scale I was 242 pounds. Which is probably a personal high.
The goal isn’t some arbitrary number, but rather “when I feel like I fit into a suit nicely.”
August 1, 2010
I need another vacation.
I took off the week of Independence Day, figuring I’d rest and relax and go back to work charged up and ready to go.
Then since that week work has just been real work to get through. Stress, annoyance, deadlines. Finally Friday everything wrapped up, I came home, had some scotch and a Monte Cristo, and decided I much enjoyed sleeping.
I’ve tried a few new cigars, but still don’t feel it in me to write about them. One type, though — Finck’s Rejects — are worth every penny. Sure, they’re seconds, but that just means I can get them for less than a kidney. It’s nice to have a cheap cigar to give someone, or to smoke when you may not get to finish it — nobody wants to interrupt a Monte Cristo, but if the stick cost a buck? Not a huge loss.
I live, but between work and the fact it is usually over 90 during the day with a heat index in the triple digits… I’m running out of gas.
