Man, I wish I had paid attention: Volume 1

Our apartment is really big. Well, it's big for me because I used to live in a shoebox in New York. We have a whole kitchen that you can sit in, an office, a bedroom bigger than ALL of my old apartments, some strange space between the kitchen and the bedroom,an entrance mud room and a living room that has a dining room table, a L-shaped sofa and a grand piano- baby Grand, but whatever. The ceilings are about 14 ft high. Plus, we only pay €450/month. Of course, we live in Bumblefuck Germany, but that is neither here nor there.




Our apartment house is very old- like 1450 old. By the way, supposedly Mozart's cousin used to live in this house and she played the cello. wooot! Given that Mozart had some strange relationship with his cousin it is entirely possible that Mozart may have boned (his cousin) in our apartment. There's something cozy about that thought, isn't there?





Sometimes in between cooking we like to get in a quick game of Badmington, or maybe a cello trio. It doesn't matter, it all fits.




The flip-side of the high ceilings and space is that it can get really cool in here. Not nice fresh-air-cool, but a sort of chilled, stale air that makes you cold in your bones even if our super, duper accurate German aligned to the solar system and God thermometer tells me that it is actually perfect room temperature in here.

We have heat. The problem is, I don't know how to turn it on. It's really very digital and you need to "set" it. When it's on in the winter I can change the settings, but it's been sleeping all summer. As opposed to an easy On/Off button or switch there is a knob and three buttons with the letters: I, P, F. What does that mean? 'I' is probably Information, but what the hell are P and F? PON? FOff? Power? It's not, I tried. I pressed the P and it gave me H1 and took me to a large calendar. hahshdfashh. I played around with I and the knob for a few minutes, then a sun, then a moon and then the temperature blinked. I did what I thought was tell it to heat to 20 degrees both at day (sun) and night (moon) but it has been an hour and I don't smell that heaty smell of the first heat.

I am pretty sure Alexander explained it to me after we got the new digital gauge put in. Of course, I didn't pay attention because honestly, who can't adjust the heat? So you mean I have to turn that knob there? When he started to talk about setting for night and vacation so it adjusts automatically I just tuned out. Sorry, there's only so much I can give to the heat. Unfortunately, it is only about 10 degrees out this evening and I am home alone for the next two weeks. Hot chocolate, anyone?

I am... I said

Hey gang! You may remember back a few months ago your good friend, Yeahkate discovered that she had developed a little speaking phobia. I totally choked on a conference call. Strange, no? Yeahkate has always considered herself in the upper right-hand quadrant (if you will) on the map of confidence to general greatness. In fact, I drew up a little graph to help illustrate my point. As you can see, I used to consider myself pretty damn great! As a result, my confidence was towards the top of the y axis.





I wasn't sure where this new speaking fear was coming from or why. All of sudden I just found it very hard to articulate and think in work situations. I am still ok in private situations and have no issue whatsoever making incomplete sentences in front of groups of people in another language. However, at work, in any interaction, whether in person or on the phone, with more than one person having to do with business concepts, I turned to mush. Mush means intense burning red cheeks,mouse-voice, shaking and general idiocy on my part. I think I might even stutter. It's a little bit the chicken and the egg- did I get stupid which made me nervous or did I get nervous and then feel stupid? On and on the snowball grows. There is one comforting fact. Turns out I am not alone.



As Seinfeld once said- Most people would rather be the one in the casket than giving the eulogy. So I started to do a little research on why all of sudden I suck so much? People are like animals and if we associate a situation with a bad experience our body reacts as if it is in danger. For some reason, I have learned to associate speaking about business to be just about in line with a deer's fear of hunting season. A little honesty with myself and a stroll down memory lane produced at least two other examples throughout my development when I flopped in front of a group of people- once in College and the other in Sales School. I think it was caused by a combination of "winging it" rather than actually knowing what I am talking about coupled by general nerves which I never admitted that I had.

There's that and also this year I have been in one, two, three or more situations in which I felt humiliated, sometimes by my boss. I either did it to myself or my colleagues did it. It doesn't matter. The yeahkate bubble has burst, my friends and I am trying to pump it back up. While listening to some Neil Diamond does help, there are much more powerful mechanisms out there, like Hypnotism and Osmosis. I found this list of Self Suggestions to help. I thought maybe my friends would like to try this too. There are only about 6 people reading this blog and as it turns out I think all six should be the at far right on the greatness line. In case any of you need to repair your confidence too, I thought I would share.

There are two things you should do with this after you pick out the ones that speak to you and your needs.

1) Record your voice saying these one tape. Play that tape while you are sleeping or napping
2) Memorize a few. Go running or jogging or get on a trampoline (it really says that) or lock yourself in a room for privacy. Jump around, run around, do anything physical while you shout you Self Suggestions for the world to hear. The idea is that lack of confidence and phobia are not just in your head as they show themselves physically as well. So convince your body and your mind that you rule (while indicating to those around you that you might be mildly insane.)



People like me...

People love me

People like to listen to I when I speak...

People enjoy my company...

I am at ease when I am with people...

When I stand up before a group of people, I am filled with feelings of friendliness for them. I want to do things for them. I feel their friendliness to I...

I experience a feeling of warmth and friendship flowing from the members of the audience to I...

I can feel that they are on my side. I am interested in them, I want to do things for them...

I am so interested in them, that I have sense of personal friendship with every member of my audience...

As I speak I am perfectly poised, self possessed and completely free in my expression...

I feel at ease, I present my ideas in a clear brief and direct way...

My ideas am quickly understood and accepted by others...

My mind is clear, my wit is quick...

My lips am flexible, my mouth is moist...

My breathing is deep and from the diaphragm...

My hands are poised and calm...

My gestures flow spontaneously and freely...

I speak easily, always giving a clear word picture of the thought I wish to convey...

I am poised and in control of the situation...

My legs are strong, solid and steady beneath me...

I am comfortable and peaceful...

I am secure and confident as I speak...

I speak spontaneously, sincerely and freely. Clearly expressing my meaning and my feelings at any time when I speak whether to a large audience or a small group...

As I begin, I feel this warmth and friendliness for my listeners...

As I begin, I feel their friendliness directed towards me...

I am totally confident, I am perfectly at ease...

As I talk, I have the undivided attention of the audience, and it feels great... I speak freely, fluidly with a full release of my skill and my talent...

I thoroughly enjoy speaking to any audienceÞ

Whenever I feel I can add a new view point or an interesting fact to a discussion, I speak openly and confidently... I communicate effectively and powerfully at all times...

People seek my opinions on a variety of subjects and I deliver information in an interesting and witty wayÞ

I have a special talent for expressing my thoughts and ideas vividly, with an enthusiasm that favorably impresses everyone that hears me...

When others speak I listen and I learn from them. I see their point of view...
I am a constantly maturing and growing personality...

I am fully aware of the strength and abilities that are within me...

I feel total confidence in my abilities to achieve the goals I have chosen for myself...

I believe in myself, I appreciate myself and I do good and kind things for myself...

I meet each situation as it comes with calm and quite assurance...

Everything I say, everything I do , is said and done with complete confidence and self assurance...

I walk with a spring in my step, my head is held high...

I see the beauty of life around me...

People respect me because I respect them and I respect myself...

I have confidence in my own judgment and I am honest and dependable...

I move forward from one positive achievement to another.

People are aware that I like them, and they sense my good will...

I am cheerful and enthusiastic...

I attract friends because I am friendly...

I am sincere and honest...

My personal integrity is felt by everyone I meet...

Each day I meet new friends and interesting people...

As I approach people for the first time, I feel a warmth and friendship for them.

My smile and my friendly greetings express my sincere feelings towards them...

I enjoy people and I want to do things for them...

I know that people seek me out because I am unique and I revel in their acceptance of me...

People respond to my personal integrity, my special personality and my warm friendliness draws people close to me, just as a magnet attracts iron filings...

I am a happy person full of imaginative thoughts which I pour forth constantly...

Each and every day, I feel more lovable, more interesting and I become more interested in others...

I recognize and accept the friendship that people offer I, for I truly deserve it...

I have a deep and sincere respect for myself and for my personal worth to others...

I like people - I enjoy being with people...

I am poised and confident when talking to new acquaintances or good friends...

I're secure and relaxed when I am with people...

I especially enjoy speaking to people... People are aware that I like them and they return that feeling to me...

BITCHES!!!!!!!!!!

1: Oh. My. Gawd, Shirley. Look at that dress.
2: tssk tssk
3: I told you flapper-Style was totally IN this season!! You guys gave me so much grief about my dress, telling me I looked like... how did you describe it, Heather? An unfortunate pattern draped just right to accentuate my fat arms and sagging breasts? I am practically wearing the same dress as a real STAR!



1: It looks disgusting.
2: mmmmm hmmmm.
3: I can't believe I look better than Pink!

Strange things on the ground

During my last trip to New York, I made a friend on the subway. We were brought together by the strange things that you can find in New York if you just bother to notice what pile of crap you need to step over. It was incredibly hot that day, over a hundred degrees and my future friend was wearing that navy blue fabric pants that they make crappy uniforms out of. I was thinking how hot that would be. Also, he didn't have all his teeth. Not sure if that helps at all one way or the other. I was melting away at the Spring St station waiting for the most disgustingly crowded subway in New York, the 6. When the train finally approached, it was with no hesitation that I moved as quickly to the opening doors and A/C as possible. Same with my friend.
Right as I was about to step onto the train I had to step over some garbage. Actually, I had to step over an oily, half-eaten block of cheddar cheese. Yes. A half-eaten brick of cheddar cheese, the orange kind. What the hell?
Did someone actually buy a block of cheddar as a snack? Is this one of those stupid protein diets? Was someone on their way home with groceries and got so hungry that they tore into the closest thing they could find only to realize that it is 140 degrees in an unventilated subway station so they threw it down in disgust? I found this half block of sweating cheese maybe the strangest thing I have seen laying on the ground so far in New York.

Before I got on the train, I dug into my bag and got out my camera to snap this picture. The doors closed on me in the process followed by a "Staaand Clear of the Closin' doors, PUH-LEESE" I hate when that happens. It really kind of hurts. I ended up making it inside, sweating and bewildered, but with some photographic evidence.




On a previous trip to New York this woman (also on the 6) got slammed in the doors five times in a row (because she was holding them open!) when I smirked because it was funny to see which part of her got pulled out and which part got pinched by the doors she proceeded to call me "a White Bitch" and a bunch of other racially charged stuff. Anyway, in an effort to not be that White Bitch I was accused of, I decided to acknowledge to the other riders who were smirking at me that yes, I got slammed by the doors and it's ok to laugh at me. This one guy with few teeth, the blue uniform pants and profusely sweating seemed nice enough. I desperately wanted to share in this cheese discovery. I showed him my picture of the cheese. We laughed. I told him I wasn't expecting a brick of cheese in this heat being that it's such a terrible snack. He agreed and we tried to think what could have caused this. Unfortunately, he did not offer any of his own "strangest things he's seen on the ground" and the conversation soon dwindled. At the next stop he told me to be good and then got off the train- which left me to let the smile fade off my face, sigh and study my cheese photo alone.

This makes me want to claw my skin off

It's not that I haven't wanted to update lately. I still have a lot to say. It's just that I have been drafting this entry for over a week now and I can barely get through a sentence without trying to scratch my entire cheek off.


My last entry was about the movie, Fluch der Karibik (Pirates of the Caribbean) Actually, it was about the art of loving the one you're with, or what you can get where ever you happen to be which in my case translates to loving thick, lukewarm soda. Anyway, there was something deeply disturbing about this movie and it has taken me weeks to write about it. I gathered the pictures almost two weeks ago and have spent the time since scrubbing my skin with wire brushes and ingesting bleach and vinegar as much as possible until I feel clean and non-organic enough to continue.

Please look at this photo. Look at that thing on the left. See the ear. What's that clump right under the ear? Click on the picture to make it bigger if you need to.

The guy has Mollusks growing out of his cheeks. Mollusks! Say that sentence and try not to inadvertantly rub or scratch your cheek. You have mollusks growing out of your cheeks.
The idea here is that this guy has no soul and lives at the bottom of the ocean. So naturally he is sort of a cross between a human and belonging to the sea. Sea things have set up camp in his face. Ummm, Excuse me, Mr. Turner, I believe you have a little something in your cheek there. Could you just go ahead and scrape those away? We're above water now. I don't know if I imagined it, but I think by the end of the three hours he had even more MOLLUSKS GROWING OUT OF HIS FACE. Excuse me while I puke.



Sort of like the way barnacles grow on Whales. Is the whale embarassed that he is so big and fat that smaller things mistake him for an inanimate object? The poor guy has no arms to pick them off. The torture. Barnacles, by the way are also disgusting. I just want to get a chissel and a hammer and start scraping away at them until everything is smooth. I went looking for pictures of barnacles earlier, but had to abort and find something smooth to stroke until I felt better again.

Personally, I don't like to hear about other people's psychosis or dreams. My favorite Professor gave a whole lecture on Narcissism being the reason that really most people just don't want to hear someone's else's dreams. It's boring and about other people. My friend is grossed out by everything and it really annoys me. Let's talk about my issues, ok? When she details why she doesn't like eggs because of the goopy yellow part I just drift away thinking of my own nightmare...and then there was a giant boat covered in Barnacles and I kept scraping and scraping and they kept growing and growing. My childhood friend Julie was there laughing and also growing barnackles. Don't care do you? It's only interesting if you have the same ticks. I say that because I am about to explain what grosses me out knowing that maybe you don't care that much. Still, it's important for me because maybe by talking about it I can get over it. I used to have a lot of little pet peeves and things that grossed me out. I also used to have a lot of pimples. i have since grown a lot. However, there remains one big one.

I am grossed out by the idea that we are in fact, organic. If you really think about it, we are in the process of rotting and what we see here
is just a thin layer of veneer under which everything else is, well, stinky. If you let up for one second in the endless pursuit of hair, makeup, showering, brushing teeth, using soap, moisturizer and medicine we are really just rot and crust. Skin is the most vital for me, perhaps because it is the curtain, the big band-aid holding this mess together. Where ever there is not skin to cover that place stinks: the mouth after 8 hours sleep or food, toe-nails and, of course, your asshole. Even holes in the skin let out the disgust underneath: hair folicles, ingrown hairs, infected in-grown hairs and pimples. If I think too long on what causes a pimple I start to salivate like I do when I know I am going to throw up. Seriously, have you ever felt an under-the-skin zit growing on your face or anywhere? It itches and if you really concentrate you can feel the rumble of your body scraping, gathering and collecting all that is nasty and miserable in your face, forcing it to gather and then shoot or ooze out of one hole in the protective sheet.

I think what killed me was watching my brother meticulously and endlessly operate on a wart he had growing on his knee cap for the whole of my college years. The thing would not die. He twisted it, he pulled it out, he cut it off. I think he even took fire to it and it just kept coming back. It dug roots. There was an actual plant growing out of his leg. I think at this point my psychosis started. Also, Gwen told me once how someone cut open a wart and there were three seeds laying there. SEEDS. IN A WART ON A HUMAN BODY. SEEDS. Since then, anything growing from something that I didn't want there gives me nightmares or the dry heaves, sometimes both. I hate to cut open a pepper when another pepper is growing inside. I have to eat those potatoes before they grow horns. Please no science experiments on if we can sprout things by leaving them in water. And thanks now to Fluch der Karibik, most importantly do not give your soul away to Davy Jones so that you must give your body to the sea. Or at least make sure you are really dead first. Eventually some muscles and clams are going to harvest out of your FACE and there is no amount of scraping that will get them out.

That Hit Him. OOOoooooo.

"It hits him flush in what appears above the mouth."

"His father's the first base coach and the Doctor." "hmmmmmm."


This is funny if you like to see kids falling down ice-skating or getting hit in the face with stuff. Sicko.


Thanks to TVGasm. My new favorite way to avoid making Powerpoints 10 hours a day.

My contribution to the world, as told by Google

Snowflakes

Cold
Wet
Dizzy
A draft in my throat
Each flake
tastes good. Like
Popcorn
Chocolate
Whipped cream.
Broccoli
that one was too small.
The bigger ones taste better.
They melt like butter
they disappear. I must
eat them before
the ground does.

by WIER participant Katie Schuele, ECS School, Westmount, Quebec

Coke with Ice

I went to see Pirates of the Caribbean or Fluch der Karibik 2 as we like to call it over here. Johnny Depp's voiceover is pretty good. Going to the movies in Germany is a very pleasant experience. In fact, it is way better than in the US. I used to have it close to the top of my list of reasons to remember why I want to live here. When you buy your ticket online or otherwise you pick your seat from a map of the seats so that you can pick snuggle seats or singles, back, middle-anywhere you like to sit. You don't have to arrive 40 minutes early to secure your place. Also, you can drink beer. In fact, someone comes in with a beer cart to sell you beer (and ice cream) in case you don't want to wait in line. The seats are huge and recline wayyyyy back.

Maybe because of my recent trip to the US for three weeks, I was still a little Americaned out and forgot where I was. I went to see a movie on Saturday night and decided to skip the beer and go full-on popcorn and coke. I forgot the most important lesson about living in Germany or in any other country- just do what they do and love it. It is not a negative comment, but an important one. If you try to get what you want and what you are accustomed to in your home country you will only end up fuming mad, frustrated and headed towards some sort of fundamentalist rage. It's true.



You should not try to ask for ice in your coke.

At the movie, I ordered coke and a popcorn. I asked for salty popcorn because otherwise they give you sweet popcorn. Then, I asked for coke with ICE. The guy said we don't have ice. First of all, WTF? How can you have a concession stand and no ice. The ice-maker is usually just the bottom part of the soda fountain!! But anyway I have been here for a year and a half and am kind of resigned to the fact that ice is harder to get than a free blowjob. Seriously, if you are lucky enough that they actually have ice it is not coming to you in any sort of bounty nor does it come with a smile. If you get ice, you maybe can get three cubes and a scowl- like here's your damn (shudder) ice you Neanderthal. Good luck with the kidney failure...
So anyway I was kind of ok with the fact that there would be no ice in my giant movie-sized cola. What annoyed me was that pimple-face decided to inform me that I do not need ice because the drink comes out already cold.

What?! Don't tell me the drink is already cold so I don't need ice. Don't tell me what I do or do not need. This is not about what I need. Trust me, I don't need two liters of lukewarm coke and a sack of popcorn at 10 at night that costs me €9.50. If you must know I like ice because it thins the coke out. I am pretty sure coke is an American company and I am pretty sure they designed the fountain and the recipe with ice in mind. I am pretty sure they make it extra thick and sweet assuming that people would drink it iced cold. Also, I like the sound of the ice in the cup, it makes me feel like I am drinking a fountain soda. I like to chew on the ice later once I have finished. It makes me feel like I am getting hydrated and not just drinking liquid candy. Don't tell me why I don't need the ice that I want!

It was my mistake though. Next time, I'll remember to get a beer. The Germans are excellent at beer.

Looking Terrible: The Anti-Drug

Did you ever notice that Nicole Ritchie looks like Donatella Versace? Kudos to Donatella though for looking like a 24 year old.

This must be a henhouse

'cause I don't see nothing but chicken sheeit...



As a joke I announced that I would only buy and eat things from Bavaria, our region in Germany. It was a little stab on the local pride and regionalism you find in just about every country. Everywhere you go people try to tell you that the stuff they have here beats the hell out of the exact same stuff from some arbitrary distance away. Sometimes they'll even have a different name for it. Bavarian beer tastes loads better than the beer you will find 100 km from here. Likewise for bread, eggs, lettuce etc. Well, kidding aside- that does actually happen to be true for many things. I have learned that nothing beats a fresh, Bavarian egg. At the market you can buy eggs from different countries in different classes. An egg will come stamped with everything you need to know (Country-Quality of chicken).

For example an egg from Italy will say IT, from Germany DE. The number following indicates how the chicken was treated:

0- the chicken grew up on a farm in the country with four acres to roam free, was fed from the finest organic grains and had the eggs massaged gently out of her by a team of 4 virgins

1- The chicken grew up on farm somewhere where it was allowed to walk around in an enclosed area, but the grain was tossed carelessly in their direction and no virgin-assisted birth

2- Chicken had to share a coop with 100 other clucking hens- a five story walk-up project-type living arrangement. The grain may or may have fish parts in it and eggs are plopped unceremoniously out at the fastest rate possible.

3- This hen is the result of serious over-breeding. The eggs are the product of unnatural chicken rape also due to overbreeding. Chicken may not even know she is a chicken. Chicken is not allowed to walk around as that would lower the amount of eggs she can lay in a day. Her feathers are matted in chicken shit as she is being shit on constantly by the sick and nervous hen laying eggs above her.

I mistakenly bought IT-3 one day. I smelled the fishy flavor right away. You are what you eat people- especially if you are a chicken. Chicken should not be eating fish!


Now, I will only buy DE-0 or DE-1 and I prefer if they are from Bavaria and not somewhere else in Germany. I won't buy them from the grocery store either, but go especially to the market where real country people haul in stacks of fresh, unrefridgerated eggs by horse and buggy every day. I like the brown eggs as I feel that is Countrier somehow. I get especially giddy if there is a still a small feather stuck to my egg. From the hen's ass directly to my table. You would not believe these eggs! The taste is incredible. We each eat one soft-boiled egg per day with our breakfast. It is the highlight of my day (only second to when I open my Bavarian beer at night) The yellow of the yolk is almost orange it is so rich with flavor.






A few weeks ago I bought some eggs at the market. I am not sure if the country folk serving me was new or what, but somehow she handed me off this egg here with shit still on it. That's shit, chicken shit, on my egg. While it doens't get more authentic than shit on an egg, it completely grossed me out. Where was my team of virgins on this one? I don't want mass produced eggs, but no shit please, ok? I have my limits. I boiled the egg for 5.5 minutes assuming it would dissolve. After almost six minutes in boiling water the shit would still not budge. I poked it with a stick, tried to brush it off with a kitchen brush, scraped it with a knife. I even tried Windex and soap scum bathroom cleaner. It would not come off. So, I took these pictures and then threw out the entire egg. Sorry.

Stay Gold, Ponyboy

Nature's first green is gold,
Her hardest hue to hold.
Her early leaf's a flower;
But only so an hour.
Then leaf subsides to leaf.
So Eden sank to grief,
So dawn goes down to day.
Nothing gold can stay.

-- Robert Frost

Dancing Queens

I recently met fellow blogger, Feline Nursery's, best girl. She's so great. The previous night she had been to a Scissor Sister's concert and was inspired by the disco dancing. It inspired her so much that she searched the internet for how she could learn all those great moves. Personally, I don't think she really needed an instructional video at all given that her impression was spot-on. She looked to each side of her, mouth open and twirled her arms around. She looked exactly like the sister himself in this picture. In fact, I only saw this picture a few days ago and without realizing who it was I thought to myself why that looks like Julie's impression of the dancing she saw at the Scissor Sisters concert. Wouldn't you know it- it was a picture of that very band.

For some strange reason I thought about disco dancing a lot over the past few weeks. What is so appealing about it and why was Julie's impression so correct? Is the secret of dancing looking away while doing things with your arms? She definitely caught onto something of the essence of dancing. Who are good disco dancers, I thought? They do some crappy moves on that 70's Show before commercials, but nothing inspiring. Who's a disco inspiration? John Travolta came to mind.



Then, I found a couple posts about Scissor Sister on various blogs. Turns out they or he is refreshingly, openly gay. So are his side glances a disco technique or a statement? Is there something that makes gay men better dancers? Is being flamingly gay in a Will and Grace kind of way help you the dance good disco? So, I thought back to who are good dancers and what do they do? According to this t-shirt that was photographed and then placed on the internet, some people think John Travolta is gay. He's a good dancer.


He seems to have a style of dancing that says he means it. Look at that intense look somewhere else, the leg in the air, the high ass, the sucked in cheeks. This is some serious dancing. I wonder if it helps that he's gay (according to facts on the internet) Why do I like this so much?

I don't know if the answer to effective disco dancing can be found in a DVD, Julie. I am not sure it's something that can be learned.

Is Madonna too old, or am I?

I took a short break from the rest of the world in late July. My bro gave me a three sentence rundown on what is going on in the middle east to help me get back in touch. It went something like Hezbollah guerrillas kidnapped Israeli soldiers, lots of bombing.




It wasn't until I saw this picture earlier this morning that I really got it though. Thank you Madonna for bringing this issue to light and for solving this as only you can- through mediocre, electronically-produced dance music and your hollow, obvious religious symbolism that was provacative about thirty years ago.

I think I get it now. So, through Madonna we can bring together what appears to be two naked dancers. No, wait. I think they are functioning as symbols of the Star of David and, what is that, the Soviet Union? So we should bring the jews back to Eastern Europe and bring back Communism? Oh. that's a muslim symbol I believe. Is this telling us that more muslims and jews should be dancing? Is the answer in the recycling of disco music? This is a tough one to decipher and I for one am outraged that sacred symbols are on the naked, sweaty chest of back-up dancers.

Oh- I get it now that I am calm and able to see the real message of this. She's saying that it's ok to get along no matter what God you worship and dancing is just the medium to get her powerful worldview across. Wow. Leave it to Madonna to still be relevant after all these years!!

In defence of Colin Farrell

I recently read a few posts on my garbage gossip sites explaining how some French nanny got banged by Colin Farrell and blabbed that he is a dud in bed. While many might be shaking their heads and thinking- I knew he looked like a bad lay, I don't think I would draw the same conclusion from this quote.


"He was enthusiastic and athletic. He was so keen to have me, he didn't want to wear any protection. He just said, 'It'll be OK, it'll be OK'. But for all his ardour, it was like he was reading from a text book, lurching from one position to another...We made love three times but the actual sex only lasted 10 minutes in total...I kept having to fake orgasms - one, two, three - to keep him happy and let him keep his dignity. It seemed the polite thing to do...And he was always looking me in the eye. I found that rather off-putting, as if I were some kind of school project. It was too clinical. He didn't at all come across as a sex god who had slept with countless woman. If I didn't know better, I could almost have thought it was his first time."



Hurried convincing for no protection? Doing it after an hour of just meeting? Lifeless performance? And still able to seriously announce to the press that he was so keen to have her? While it might be fun for Colin to do it with anyone he wants, it must be exhausting to pretend like the current one is all that different from the last one. Chances are the last one might even have been a model. I think Colin even checked himself into rehab for exhaustion, didn't he? I thought it was a cover for drugs and alcohol, but now I can see why he would be so tired.

Paradise

Dear Readers,
Please accept my deepest apologies for not updating. I didn't even tell you that I was leaving. I went to Crested Butte, Colorado where all is beautiful and right with the universe. I kind of fell in. My soul sister came with me for a few days and then I was there for another week. I worked while I was there and hardly had a minute to myself once she left. I am not complaining though because this is where I was. I went hiking and biking a few times. I played golf twice, but mostly I just ran around helping Alexander since he was so busy. I went to a musical performance every night. I feel filled up culturally. It's a good feeling.

Yes, there has been a lot going on in the world while I was away. I watched the news in a hotel room with my mother and brother just yesterday and was shocked to learn that there were some missing hikers, a bird's nest found in a tree, two small plane crashes, Mel Gibson is a dick and some stuff going on in the middle east. I am not saying I don't care. I am just saying this is where I was.