So I’m posting from the road, which is kind of sad when you think about it. I’m half a block from a monkey forest and instead of walking around outside, I’m locked in a little bamboo stall typing. Bali is wired, my friends. There’s an Internet cafe about every three feet. They know about the Backstreet Boys, Tommy Hilfiger, and those horrible bottled Starbucks drinks. Shoot me now.

Also, everything costs two bucks. Well, everything except for the four-foot-high wood carvings of masturbating monkeys, those are about $250. If only I had a bigger place.

[editor's note] Fixed Mighty Girl’s link to Annie from yesterday if you’re interested.

While I’m away, you should read Little Yellow Different:

“On a tangeant, this whole Asian-chick-and-labor thing reminds me for that Tide commercial. You know which one I’m talking about, right?

(Japanese woman speaking to the camera, cut to shots of a white guy playing basketball and pagoda’s in the background. Cut to another shot of same white guy kicking back a beer while watching sumo wrestling.)
“You know, I love my husband. But when I moved to Japan for work it took a while for him to get used to his new surroundings. The clothes he bought in America are precious to him. That’s why I wash his clothes in Tide!”

Now, I’m not a militant Asian, by any means. But let me get this straight — Asian woman has a job overseas while her husband mills around the house drinking air-mailed Budweiser and watching sumo wrestling. And SHE STILL DOES HIS FUCKING LAUNDRY?! Oh, hell no. If I was her, I’d get his gaijin ass to the fucking laundromat and tell him to wash his own damn clothes. *breathes deep* Okay, I’m better now. Carry on…”

“So I’m talking with my girl, Belinda. My very attractive, very feminine female friend Belinda. And she’s yelling at me over Instant Messager.

“WHAT? What do you MEAN you’re borrowing a copy of Diablo II?! You have to get your own copy so you can register the key and play over battle.net.” I could almost see her roll her eyes and toss her hair as she types that. “And if you’re lucky, I’ll even let you on my team.”
This is fucking surreal. Just the other day she was talking about the outfit she bought at Banana Republic. “Really?” I stutter. “How strong is your character?”
“Level 65 Ice Sorceress. You?”
*cough* “Uhmm.. Level 18 Necromancer.”
“Ugh. I guess I could help you out. Did I mention I play Tekken Tag Tournament too? Get a Playstation 2 and I’ll kick your butt anytime. Anytime.“

You know, it’s a damn shame I’m homosexual. Because I think I just met the hottest girl. Ever.”

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[editor's note] It occurrs to me, as I post today’s message that Mighty Girl left me, she might have at least assumed that I had some big Presidents’ Weekend plans. The fact that I’m posting this at 1:00AM Saturday morning, after having spent the evening playing video games, has nothing to do with it…

While I’m away, you should visit Annie. She doesn’t update often enough, but she’s one of my favorites.

Four Kraftwerk-lookin’ indie rockers stood on the
platform with me; they were thick-spectacled, pale, and thin. I felt instantly uncool for
wearing my purple pajama top under my coat, even though they wouldn’t see it. Indie
rockers make me nervous.

Wearing a white shirt and black pants, along with a tie worthy of placement in the International Male catalog, the
young man slinked his way toward our party. He began to gyrate his pelvis and wave his hands in the air like he just
don’t care — all in front of poor Ophi. Upon closer inspection of Rico Suave’s getup, I noticed that he was sporting a
tacky gold chain around his neck. Obviously someone got a good prize in his Burger King Kids Club Meal.

[Regarding a battle with depression:]

What people say

How long were you on medication?

What people mean

Exactly how crazy were you?

What people say

Do you still go to therapy?

What people mean

Are you still crazy?

What people say

It doesn’t seem like someone like you could have problems.

What people mean

Oh my god, what if I go crazy someday, too?

[One of Annie's New Years resolutions:]

more rock, less talk.

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While I’m away, you should read BoingBoing

“Jesus.com is owned by a guy who looks like Jesus and wears a Jesusonian robe. He hopes to meet women who are turned on by the idea of dating a real live Jesus. He’s also inviting women to bathe with him. At least one woman has taken him up on his offer, and you can see photographic evidence on Jesus’s site.” Link

eCompany interviews Bruce Sterling. ‘What would happen if I could turn my IQ up to 450? I would be a completely different kind of entity. I would understand things much more thoroughly, and I would be really thrilled by it for, I don’t know, maybe six months. Then I would have a routine of some kind. I would be a posthuman entity with an IQ of 450 who had a routine. And I would be bored a lot of the time. And my behavior would me mostly habitual, and embarassing things would happen to me. In other words, I wouldn’t be some kind of shining godlike creature. I might be super intelligent, but, you know, I’d probably have diarrhea. A super intelligent being with acne. I would still have a toothache. My wife would also have an IQ of 450, and we would have domestic arguments that were on the level of super genius but still about housework.’”

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While I’m away, you should read Caterina:

“Jim’s roommate, let’s call him Lester, was a prodigious serial
seducer. He seduced more women in college than anyone would ever have
believed, being kind of an unassuming computer programmer kind of guy
with very average looks. His secret was, I guess, charm, but mostly that
he never told a soul. Never bragged, never raised an eyebrow, never
brought it up in casual conversation, never said a word. Kissing but no
telling. No one knows to this day what a Don Juan Lester was in the early
90s at Vassar, not the women he seduced not his CS classmates, only
his roommates, and their confidantes, such as me.”

“Main Entry: lapsus calami

Pronunciation: “lap-sus-’ka-la-”mE, “lap-sus-’ka-le-”mI

Usage: foreign term

Etymology: Latin

: slip of the pen”

“When I was little I was over at at the
Vance’s house playing with John Vance, the youngest of six
brothers, whose immediate predecessors were Matthew, Mark and
Luke� John was showing me the hamster that
he and his brothers had gotten for Christmas, which I had come
especially to see. He lifted it out of its cage and showed it to me. It
had twitchy whiskers and I petted it tentatively with my forefinger,
finding it very very soft. I was completely smitten. Then he kissed the
hamster and said, “I love you SOOO MUCH” and squeezed it so
hard he killed it dead.”

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“Whom we love best, to them we can say the least.” -Jon Ray

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