I've heard there's such a thing as practical intelligence, known in some elderly circles as "street smarts." I've had many encounters with the concept of said intelligence--most notably when my father turned a shade of beet red and explained to me that one must open the garage door before one backs out of the garage-- but I'm pretty positive I've never actually experienced or possessed a rational logic of the world that makes life run more smoothly. Case in point, today, when I decided to wash my jeans, then hang them out on our balcony to dry. The obvious, yet unbeknownst to me result? Frozen jeans.

I was however impressed by the artistic potential of the Tim Burton-esque pants. So I took some photos. Pantslessness is a small price to pay for art.

Courtesy of Corinne

That is one cute post-one night stand photo op.

Yuppie Orgasm

The masturbatory mix:
"I believe in a Thing Called Love" The Darkness
"Good Stuff" B-52s
"Reflections" Atmosphere

That should take me to climax.

The full experience report will come after I manage to drag myself out of bed.

Named perhaps for his ability to compose sweet melodies in the bedroom, Mozart, a male iguana in Belgium has been sentenced to penis amputation in a few days for his inability to lay to rest his angry week-long reptile erection.

And this may be the single best sentence ever to pass through the text galleys of Associated Press:

"Mozart, sitting on the shoulders of his keeper as camera crews focused on his red, swollen erection, seemed unperturbed by the news."


Sad yes, but tragic no: Mozart, along with the other males of his species, is blessed with two iguana dicks, one of which isn't acting like such a big swollen prick and thus will be saved.

Abbrevs (amended)

My housie Riesling was forced to invent a word in one of her emotionally pornographic workshops the other day. The word she came up with was:

Tankie-- A "housie", derived from the expression "someone livin' in your fish tank"

May "Housies" rest in peace foreves.

Announcing the Upcoming Debut of the Food Blog

There was a time, once, that I felt it really important to track down every morsel of food that went into my mouth, not in a 'rexic sort of way, but as a tribute, an appreciation of glorious, glorious food.

Mostly it was spawned when bestie SarahGo had other besties whom I did not know (check out that rhyme) who decided to do a detox blog (www.holdthewaffles.blogspot.com). Of course we were appalled by such vanity; men on detox diets going to the gym to do YOGA was too much of an overload for our traditionally gendered minds.

It was then that we first brainstormed the idea of starting a website dedicated to our first and only true love: food. After all, we could be considered avid eaters, even emotional eaters-- every time a detox dieter posted about feeling faint we angrily chomped on Werther's and asked the Gods above "Why, Why, Why!?" So we excitedly mapped, prepared, and planned how we were going to record every enticing bite of caloric substance that went into our mouths. Then we never did.

But don't think we forgot about it either. Some things can't bloom until they're ready. And today things are getting ready:

"What have you eaten today?"

"2 sodas, one apple, left over dim sum, one bag of pretzels. i really want peanut m&ms but i'm holding out. you? i wish we had started that food blog."

"It's not too late! I mean really we eat too much to not record our intake (and perhaps digestive processes...?)
I have downed ONE bagel w/ schmear (okay it was a 'light' Lender's bagel with lowfat cream cheese-sorry), ONE COSI cobb salad with bread (thanks mom & dad!), two lattes, some stale office popcorn, and four Werthsies. And I'm still raring to go."

Stay tuned for the announcement of a NEW blog address in which you can get your voyeur on to the story of two girls' mouths and what they put in them.

And 'rexics and 'limics aren't allowed to use the material as masturbation fodder. Seriously. We see you.

Proof of Puppetry

Q Tony, is that all you're going to have on Somalia, as far as pointing us back to the Pentagon and the ongoing operation?

MR. SNOW: Yes.

Q You don't have any other details?

MR. SNOW: No.

Q How about how the President found out, et cetera?

MR. SNOW: You know what, stupid me, I forgot to do the process stuff. We'll try to find out.

Brilliance

MONKEY:The safe word is "I love Republicans!"
MONKEY: That way, you'll never use it.
MONKEY: Try that next time - make the safe word something that your partner hates to say.
"Bush is on the right track!"
"Whatever makes us safer!"
"The constitution is just a 'plan', after all!"
"They must have been doing SOMETHING, or the cops wouldn't've bothered them.
me: that's brills
MONKEY: I have lots of good ideas.
me: or "the terrorists will win"
MONKEY: "Please pre-set Bill O'Reilly on my TIVO!"
me: AMAZING
i might have to make that my gchat messafe
MONKEY: "End women's suffrage!"
Oh, the games we'd play.
me: I'm like snorting with laughter
MONKEY: Imagine having to shout that out to end the scene. Geez.
My favorite part is being like "Well, they'd never say that, I must've misheard." and I can ignore it.
me: so so amazing
MONKEY: Ha.
I dunno 'bout you, but I think I deserve another PR post.
That's what I think.
I thought it.
me: ha. yes you probably are deserving

Late last night as I was alternating my attention between the sound of my downstairs neighbor boinking and the news anchor waxing bullshit on how the Democrats couldn't agree on a strategy to combat Bush's proposed troop increase in Iraq, some sex trauma must have occurred below because there was a sudden shout of "Get out! Get out!" in volumes much louder than the previous moaning, possibly directed at either a penis or a mistaken housemate. Almost simultaneously the newscaster said something along the lines of "The Democrats are still divided over whether to pull the troops out quickly, gradually, or at all." It was so obvious.

Global Something

Today seemed like a fine day to fork over some New Year's money to Environmental Action, being that it's a balmy 65 degrees and I saw a few legs in shorts this afternoon. Oh, and it's fucking January in NYC.

On that note, perhaps you should too: www.environmental-action.org.

Or those scary "ticking" kids on the infomercials will be right.