Saturday, April 29, 2006

I won't be able to star in any more Steven Spielberg movies?!

I heart Kathy Giffin. Check out this clip* of her show wherein she discusses having "personally upset" Steven Spielberg. I think she is the most underrated funny-woman ever. She is so fabulous yet that self-deprecating (sp?) edge is what warms my heart about her.

*I don't know how long the link will actually be the KG clip.

Thursday, April 27, 2006

Reply to Text Message:

"I'm sorry I didn't put your name in my phone book. Who are you?"

Who am I? WHO AM I? JE SUIS LE CHEF, that's who I fucking am!

My reply: "Your worst nightmare."

Deleted all contact info to prevent further embarrassing responses from yours true.

In other news, someone at work told me they aspire to be like me in the years to come. I said, "How's that?" He said: "HNIC. Head Nigga In Charge."

Sigh. If only the rest of the world could come to that realization.

Wednesday, April 26, 2006

Secretaries Day AKA Administrative Professionals Day

Today is Administrative Professionals Day and The World Church of Assimilation is throwing a big BBQ for us Admins formerly known as "secretaries". THE GLAMOUR NEVER STOPS IN THIS POSITION! When you work with a lot of black people, the food for these kinds of things is slamming. And Mama's HAWNGRY as it is presently 19 minutes past my regularly scheduled lunch time.

The Wikipedia article states:
The holiday is criticized for being just another holiday created by the greeting card/gift industry to increase their sales between larger holidays (see Hallmark holiday).

In the United States, Administrative Professionals Day® is a registered trademark with the serial number 75898930. The registrant is the International Association of Administrative Professionals.


But whatever, I get a free lunch out of it, and my boss gave me $50 and undying praise! The greeting card/gift industry needs some coins to hold them over between holidays and I need a fifty to hold me over between paychecks. HOLLA!

Monday, April 24, 2006

Why I Hate Doctors.

In honor of the previous post's mention of doctors, I'm going to tell you why I hate doctors.

Today I had a doctor's appointment for my regularly scheduled check up with the specialist, for a (decreasingly) rare condition that I am unfortunate enough with which to be afflicted. I thought that because I was going earlier than usual that I would have to see the World Famous Doctor and Authority on the Matter, but in fact, the Nurse Practitioner was there so I saw him instead. He's not a doctor but he can do everything the doctor can do, and I like him better. In fact, I love him. He has a very good "bedside manner", does not get irritated or annoyed with questions, and shows a general concern for me not as a numbered folder but as a person.

It's unfair to generalize, so be warned, I'm going to generalize. I hate doctors. Howard Brody famously described doctors' power in his book The Healer's Power. According to Brody, doctors have the power of their exclusive knowledge of medicine, charismatic powers, and social power derived from their status in society. These days, largely due to the internet and other sources of knowledge that are public, doctor's do not have the exclusive rights to so called "Aeschulpian knowledge", especially not general practitioners (how many times have you known what you have but just needed someone to write a prescription for it?).

I also have not found that doctors are particularly "charismatic," at least not the ones I have seen, as they can, like any stranger on the street, be assholes as easily as the next guy.

So in my opinion their real "power" lies in their social status, and how they are pedestalized (yes I made that word up) by our belief that they have some divine ability. Don't get me wrong, going through medical school and all that entails does put you in a position to treat illness beyond just reading the internet or, say, getting some quackery degree from TV. However, doctors are NOT the giants of humanity that they are made out to be (or that many of them think they are), they can be wrong (I personally have been misdiagnosed several times for several different things), and just because they are dealing with the valuable material of health and well-being, they are not anything more than a skilled laborer. Furthermore, it is rare to find a doctor--maybe your experience has been different--who gives a rat's ass about the context of what ails you and how all of that plays into your illness. And the Institution of Medicine is racist and homophobic. And sexist. Doctor's in their $500 shoes with heads full of thoughts about their mansions on Long Island look at you with the EYES OF JUDGEMENT if you do not happen to also be a fucking aristocrat too. AND it takes advantage of the "little people" in the medical setting who are not in the same colored robes as the doctors. SO THERE.

"I think you should get out of the hospital."

In 1995, Madonna attended the MTV VMA's, as did Ms. Courtney Love. While Madonna was being interviewed by Kurt Loder about her new CD (the little known collection of ballads entitled Something to Remember) a makeup compact comes flying over her head. Here's Courtney in one of her most party-crashing, train-wrecking moments, and Madge sharp as a tack. I love Courtney deeply and everyone knows my TREMENDOUS & OFTEN IRRATIONAL regard for Madonna. This is a classic Madonna moment and one of Courtney's sloppier, an all-time favorite of mine, now available via You Tube. Notable is that at the beginning, they both claim they "talk", meaning they are friendly in the world of celebrity red-carpet friends.

Sunday, April 23, 2006

Sunday Nonsensical Rambling


Vanishing Citibank Building
Originally uploaded by butch stroll.
You meet someone one night – or rather, they meet you. They are very interested in you, and the two of you really hit it off. He takes the bull by the horns, so to speak, with the conversation and the show of interest. He’s full of flattery and a clear attraction to you. There are no drugs or alcohol involved clouding anyone’s judgment.

He takes it upon himself to call his cell phone from your cell phone so that you each have the other’s number.

A few days later, you take the lead for a minute. Taking a femme stroll approach, you send a text message saying hello. There are a couple replies back and forth, and the last reply from him says, “We’ll talk later” and ”I’m happy to hear from you.” The ball is in his court and he has demonstrated already that he likes to play offense.

You never hear from him again.

HOW does this make ANY sense?

I am sitting here at my window. It is a cooler day than it has been the past few days and it has been raining pitchforks and babies for the past two days. My view is strait down a fenced off “yard” between two buildings with a tree growing right up from the middle. There is relative calm in my apartment. Suddenly a cat outside screeches and goes flying up the tree. It stops. Then something of similar size yet unidentifiable genus comes flying up behind it, sending it back into the panicked screech and flying back down the tree, the other thing right behind it. There’s something out there trying to sharpen its claws!!

One of them coe-yoats that’s been wanderin’ in lately? Hmmm….

After the past two weekends this weekend was a lazy one. You are beat down all week at work – metaphorically chased up and down some dead-leaved tree by some other bitch looking to get rough – so by Friday, you just need to regenerate. Then on Saturday you try to get a few things done (we spring-cleaned the hell out of this place), possibly go out for a bit to a “bar” or “night club”, and suddenly it’s Sunday meaning tomorrow’s a work day. The feeling of “this is all there is to life?” can creep up on you.

That sounds very depressing but I don’t mean for it too. I enjoy my life in many ways. I know there are people who “live life to the fullest”. I have my moments of debauchery and self-indulgence, because, indeed, life’s a banquet and there are fools starving.

I work for a non-profit religious institution, so my version of the rat race is not like, say, a Wall Street suit’s. You weigh and balance the way in which you make the rat race work for you. It’s all about pulling all the levers and ending up in a place that you’re at least comfortable with, and possibly you can even exceed that. Once you’re actually satisfied with where you are and what you have, that’s when you win the rat race – you’re content. That’s in addition to being able to eat. But to quote a cliché attributed to Lily Tomlin: “Even if you win the rat race, you’re still a rat.” I would add, “looking for cheese.”

Lito and I went to the Budget rental car place to rent him a car for their trip to the Motherland. Lito hit the little “request stop” bell pretty close to the stop, so when we were the only two exiting, the driver said, “You testing my brakes?” To which Lito brilliantly replied: “Yes siree, on the nickel.” We got the car and I drove it off the lot, made our way through fast food drive through and back to the compound.

For a moment, the sun looks like it’s trying to come out.

Friday, April 21, 2006

Mark Ecko Tags Air Force One

So realistic, the Feds went to check: stillfree.com.

"I am THIN and GORGEOUS!" -- Patsy Stone

Because I have achieved a level of physical perfection that even fitness celebrity John Bastow envies, and because my superior physical fitness prompts strangers on the street to stare and even ask questions about just how it's possible, I have decided to begin this feature, The Butch Stroll Work Out Tip of the Day.

Today's tip: Stand up strait, you slouching piece of leaned over shit, and drive the elliptical machine with your heels, not the balls of your feet.

IT'S FRIDAY.

And you're not getting another piece of me until I get my two days off!

Thursday, April 20, 2006

And then Lourdes will begin her reign...

A (dubiuos) rumor among fans has it that Madonna will announce her retirement in 2008 and give a final concert in New York the day before her 50th birthday that year.

Just Let Your Soul Glow

The World Church of Assimilation has a forum for black staff, who are having a luncheon today. My homegirl Ti Ti is in charge of the whole shebang, so I rode with her and her assistant to Lenox Avenue to help get the food. Is it stereotypical or appropriate to serve Soul Food to the black group?

Because I have some black in me (on a regular basis), I took a plate with me. Best lunch I've had in months. Fried chicken, red beans and rice, collard greens, macaroni and cheese, and yams. I don't even like yams, but these were delicious.

Wednesday, April 19, 2006

To the tune of "My Humps",

"My Farts":



from trannyforce.com

Well, it is kind of time consuming...

"It's just not...joyous." -- Michael Kors


photo from Subtextnyc.com

The first symptom of going crazy is intense feelings of being singled out for a conspiracy of persecution. If that is the case, then I am possibly on the verge of a nervous breakdown. Who are these people and why are they trying to stomp me into the ground?

This morning started out like any other morning with a frantic run to the bus stop in a desperate attempt to get to work on time (incidentally, today that was particularly important). Upon dropping my unlimited-ride Metrocard in the card-reader, the reader rejected my card and told me “read error”. I explained to the bus driver that my Metrocard is unlimited and refills automatically with money deducted from my paycheck. He did not care. He told me to go to the train station and “they can tell you what’s wrong with it.”

He refused to accommodate me though he is often my bus driver and must be familiar with my face. I really thought I was going to lose it right there, so I quickly exited the bus. Inside I was screaming, I was one of four New Yorkers who stuck up for your asses during the strike AND THIS IS THE THANKS I GET? Of course I should have known the booth operator would be equally useless to me so after rolling my eyes so hard it kind of hurt the sockets, I paid $2.00 for a single ride and went back to the bus.

After all the peeps I work with were done listening to themselves talk this morning, I ran down to the Transitcheck Center in Midtown, where my card was quickly replaced. I knew it was a long shot, but I tried to get them to reimburse me for the $4.00 their defective card had cost me in addition to the money I’d already paid for UNLIMITED rides. No dice. Eyes rolled harder than ever this time, and I possibly made the teeth-sucking noise, possibly shouted something about having mouths-to-feed. “You can rob me of my four bucks but you can’t rob me of my SOUL! GAR-GYLES! ASTROLOGERS!

By the way, the building on “Avenue of the Americas” (LOL) where the Transit Center is located is like fucking Fort Knox with the security. It is easier to get into bedroom at the White House than it is to get through those (mildly retarded) security guards. Despite this intense security complete with photograph taken and temporary ID issued, the dude still mistook my middle name for my last name (which is very common here, where most people do not have first-middle name combos of the “Bobby Joe” variety, as I do).

Anyway. En route I saw Daniel Vosovic of “Project Runway” fame on the subway. Both cuter and skinnier in person.

Tuesday, April 18, 2006

Thank you, Easter Bunny!

Perhaps you've read that the Easter Bunny punched some woman in the face in Fort Meyers?

Well, that ain't the half of it. The Easter Bunny hates you.

Babs

It's two o'clock in the morning and I'm just taking a minute to enjoy the relative peace and quiet, sitting here listening to Babs. She's very inspiring. Barbara Streisand is the icon of gay men, like, ten plus years my senior. I never really got into her but while searching for the song from Sunset Boulevard I discovered her and Back to Broadway. "With One Look I Could Break Your Heart" is what I'm trying to live in this new year since my birth, and I have not failed to wear the expression out within a twenty four hour period.

Text Me in the Morning

The text message is not the Butch Stroll way of establishing contact with a romantic interest after a few days have passed since first contact was made.

But I got a sweet reply.

I went to the gym tonight for the first time in a few days and remembered how IT BURNS. God, it burns...

Just kidding. ;) But getting back in the swing of things now that I'm 100 in gay years.

Sunday, April 16, 2006

Silent music starts to play....

SHOOSE!

Today was my birthday which I celebrated by spilling coffee everywhere and having a bought with mild diarhea. (My digestive system is well lubricated with vodka and Southern Comfort.) Last night I went with two of the girls to the Rapture and then on to the 'Tross, where a woman named "Puddles" was making a huge scene at someone else's birthday celebration, and ended up ripping the light fixture out of the ceiling. Overall it was a joyous occassion to use Michael Kors' word, and yes, I do feel a year older. I took a looong nap.

I am now thirty years old. Thirty. Thirty! When I think back over the last thirty years, it is truly a miracle that my body is not decomposing in a ditch somewhere, or that my heart hasn't exploded, or my lungs collapsed.

Back to work tomorrow. Ug.

Lito and I are going to trade rooms next weekend. Long story. But suffice it to say that having a Murphy Bed is a double edged sword. Any piece of furniture that has a complicated assembly process and requires bolting into the wall can be a hassle when you're trying to rearrange.

On Friday night I met a very nice guy, very cute, very good chemistry, very familiar with navigating The Butch Stroll. We'll see if he calls. Anyway, I got an email a couple weeks ago from my former flame turned porn star saying that he was coming back to New York today. I left him a message on Friday night because while I have no intentions of being "in love", I would like to see him. But I havn't heard from him, so who knows if he's in town, and if he is no telling whose attention he has captivated in the few hours since his arrival. I just want him to remember, more than anything, that with one look I can break your heart.

In honor of Easter, I watched Franco Zeffirelli's Jesus of Nazereth on the History Channel today. Lito and I had a discussion of the difference between that film and the more recent Passion of the Christ directed by Mel Gibson. I loved Passion and had never seen Nazereth, but I have to say that Zeffirelli's movie relies less on the violence of Jesus' final days, and is at least equally as compelling as Gibson's. They are the same story but oh-so-different. Lito makes a convincing case for why Nazereth is better than Passion and I'm inclined to agree.

The Judas of Jesus of Nazereth is of course the Judas portrayed in the Gospels, not the one portrayed in the so-called Gospel of Judas. But nonetheless, his betrayal is used to examine the entire point of Christianity. Peter says (and I paraphrase), "We call Judas a traitor, but we have all betrayed Him." The theology of Christian salvation stems from that very idea--that we all drove those nails into Christ's hands and feet with our infinite sin, and because He took it we are spared damnation lest we fail to believe. Now the question for theologians is, did Christ die for Judas' sins too?

Friday, April 14, 2006

In the words of Mommie Dearest, YOU FIGURE IT OUT!

Mona has decreed with a Barbaric Yawp that the theme for Poetry Friday is Hidden. So without further ado-do:

Hidden
by Stroll

"It's hard to be a diamond in a rhinestone world." --Dolly Parton

I am wrapped up in plastic and tissue paper,
delicate and placed in a bag
with rope handles and a flowered pattern,
placed under a tree
that should have come down in January.

I am stuck against a wall like a piece of gum
and stretched away while holding on.
No longer worth chewing,
and long since spit out.
Someone will try to scrape me off, maybe today.

Purpose is the reason for getting out of bed.
I have things to do, papers on which to scribble
and shove into metal tombs.
"Remember this," the chief says.
But I have forgotten the point.

The point is sharp and pokes at a vein,
paper is like heroin to the office.
I want to hide in the crowd
with the hidden purpose,
that invisible thing that has chainsaw teeth

to cut down trees and turn bones
into monuments. That hatchet that chops
off hair and fingers, that makes tears pointless.
I want to roll away the painted stone
and walk alongside the living.

But I am fading as the lights come on
and wipes away the shadows.
Jesus hides in Easter eggs
and caves and leather books written
in squiggles and no one can remember.

I curl back up in the cave.
I wait on night to fall
so I can paint myself back on the wall.
The mountains shake from the laughter,
the water washes ashore and tries to talk.

The old timers are a having a fit.
From every angle, a finger points.
"You don't know shit!"
They shove more bloody food in my face.
"Eat, eat," they say, "for tomorrow we may die."

The purpose, the dull point, what's behind the sky...
It's all Greek to me, and hard to sort through lies.
I am wingless but I try so hard to fly.
The sharp point is that hidden or not...we'll all find time to die.

When cockroaches are incorporated into fashion, the culture has gone too far.

I deleted that last post. At first I stupidly thought it was real, then I read the copy and realized it was a spoof so I edited to state as much. But it wasn't funny anyway, and that's coming from me, finds "funny" in "sick and twisted". But it was sick beyond funny really... At any rate, deleted.

In other news, this is very real and very disgusting. If God hates America, this is in fact why.

Thursday, April 13, 2006

Speaking of Jesus...

My birthday is having some trouble competing with the Resurrection of our Lord. Do I have to develop a nimbus to get some plans going?

Tuesday, April 11, 2006

Jesus, Judas, Harlem, Chapulines

I am taking a break from work because I am overwhelmed. Yesterday I woke up in a panic when I realized that it was 11:30 and my alarm had either not gone off or had not woken me up. I have so much to do at work. In areas outside of work, I'm going through it, to use an expression, and as of late I am having trouble not only making sense of my life but understanding how this life could happen to lovely me. I feel like a waste, unwanted, unloved, outcast, friendless. A woman outside saw me smoking and commented on how "cute" I am in my hat and sunglasses, and when I stated that it is the face-plate I have bolted onto my head every morning, she decided then that I look "rugged". Honey, you don't know the half of it.

That's not what I want to write about. I want to talk more about Jesus and Judas.



More About Jesus and Judas


This article from the New Yorker (thanks Murky Thoughts!) is the same analysis of this discovery (which was actually first discovered about 30 years ago) that I (and others) have been saying. I should be writing for The New Yorker. But seriously, the article goes into some wierd ideas of its own about how the Jesus in the Gospel of Judas is stripped of something compared to the Jesus from the accepted Biblical canon. I don't really see that, but whatever. He's right, though, that in religion "there is no fundament". And that the "hype" surrounding this discovery is in part due to the recent newfounded interest in "other" stories about Jesus, like the gnostic Gospel of Thomas and fictional works like Anne Rice's
Christ the Lord: Out of Egypt (which draws from apocrypha for its content) and of course the hugely popular The DaVinci Code. It is also in part due to the fact that National Geographic Society has both the English translation ($22) and the "companion book" ($27) to promote. But nonetheless, it is, as the article's author puts it "a genuine occasion, offering much to think about for believer and doubter alike."


Harlem & The Chapulines


When I lived in Costa Rica for six months in 1998, I was once stabbed in the arm by a group of three chapulines. The "chapulines" (which means "grasshoppers") are groups of three to thirty boys ranging in age from 9 to 30, who roam the streets (particularly at night) of San Jose looking for the vulnerable upon which to prey. For the record, they didn't get anything from me and one of them landed on his ass when I kicked him in his stomach and sent the other two running. Also for the record, taking the safety off of your mace is difficult under the pressure of actually needing to use it.

Anyway, the NY Post today reports on a similar phenomenon that is emerging in Harlem as it "gentrifies", and like the chapulines of San Jose, these groups in Harlem are primarily interested in "cellphones, small electronics, and wallets".

Once I was in New Orleans, and a woman's advice to me for avoiding robbery as I walked back through the dark alleys of town from the French Quarter to my seedy hotel came back to me as I read this article this morning (incidentally, while travelling through Harlem on a bus): "Just look poor."

Sunday, April 09, 2006

Nina does her best Terri Shiavo impression.

Judas

No need for you to read this article in the NY Post today, as I included all its pertinent information in this post a day early. In short, it is kind of silly to think that this discovery will change the Catholic (or Protestant for that matter) position on what constitutes the Holy Bible any more than the hundreds of discoveries of apocryphal books has.

The Washington Post has pictures and a Q & A.

By the way, Judas.org has nothing to do with Judas, or Judas Priest really, but what's with the gratuitious cute dogs?

Saturday, April 08, 2006

How they get here.



Everyone is invited to my house today for a Cleaning Party! No need to RSVP, just show up for hours of fun scrubbing, vaccuuming, and mopping. BYOS (Bring Your Own Supplies). Adderal and coffee available for the sluggish.

Maybe I'm just thinking that the rooms are all on fire....


Fire in Stamford, CT
Originally uploaded by butch stroll.
...every time that you walk in the room..."

While running around the hotel in the 'Cut in a mad attempt to have everyone happy and content with the goings on of The Big Meeting, I returned to my room briefly to get something I'd forgotten (my nose ring because I feel naked without it). I noticed a huge plume of smoke passing the window and going out far over the downtown area. It was of course coming from a fire at some kind of plant. Right in front of the fire were the "time" and "temp" signs. It was a cold, rainy day but that didn't seem to keep the fire at bay. It was kind of the buzz of the day, that something across the street was burning down into a crisp, trumping the fact that, meanwhile, it was snowing in New York.

Friday, April 07, 2006

The Gospel of Judas

“And there are also many other things which Jesus did, the which, if they should be written every one, I suppose that even the world itself could not contain the books that should be written.” -- John 21:25


I have always been fascinated by the two characters named "Judas" in the Bible. The lesser known one, Judas Tadeo (Jude Thaddeus, also called Judas the Zealot), was the one who asked Christ at the last supper why he would not manifest himself to the whole world after his resurrection (John 14:22), the question I would have asked myself. He interestingly became the Catholics' patron saint of lost causes. The other one--the traitor--did what he did with God's full knowledge that he would do so. One of the longest standing questions in the philosophy of religion is: If God knows everything that is going to happen, then how can there be free will?

Some gnostic sects are known to have held the view that Judas was a savior figure himself, because without his wicked betrayal Christ would have never had the opportunity to conquer death. Judas must have been part of this "plan" God had that we so often hear about. So it is no surprise to me that there has been discovered a "gospel" of Judas, said to be written about 300 years after Jesus walked the earth, wherein Christ lays down the sacrifice Judas will have to make to his good name and history's remembrence of him.

The most interesting thing that the article claims is that, in the beginning of Christianity, there was a lot of diversity of belief and a lot of books floating around about the religion until the Powers That Were chose those that we now call The Bible. (Still today there is diversity of belief with a few Catholic sects and countless protestant denominations, but they all generally agree that the Bible is the Bible. Those wacky Mormons are a notable exception.) If I'm in the mood to play along with the idea that the Christian story isn't all myth, I have to be one of those deterministic gnostics who tried to make sense--albeit heretical--of those contradictions in the texts.

Pictures from www.devocionario.com and www.rotten.com's excellent article on the subject of Judas.

Thursday, April 06, 2006

I'm baaaaAaack...

I made it back from the 'Cut in one piece. Man, Connecticut is boring and they do crazy shit like make soup out of apples and put raisens in their stuffing. Wierd place.

And there is something I've said countless times that bares repeating: Church people are off the chain insane. I only had to kill five of them (six if you count the one I put in a persistant vegetative state). Overall it was a pleasant trip.

Photos of the raging fire taken from my hotel window forthcoming.

Sunday, April 02, 2006

Work

Tomorrow I'm going to Connecticut to work for four days. God help me. Please try not to get too emotional. I will be thinking about you, countless millions, and will be back on Friday.

Spring Forward

I sent a little reminder message to all my World Church co-workers reminding them of the daylight savings time changes. Then I forgot myself, until just now when I realized my clock was no longer an hour fast.

We've lost but an hour, but it feels like a little piece of my flesh ripped out and thrown against the raging wind.

Charmed Spinoff?

I provide this information for Kevondrala, who appreciates Charmed because it addresses the important social isses of our day. :|

Saturday, April 01, 2006

Yours Truly


P0004144
Originally uploaded by butch stroll.
A rare photograph of the author. Note the eyes appear to be those of a "stoner" which is neither confirmed nor denied.

Suddenly, it turns violent...


P0004132
Originally uploaded by butch stroll.

A Tender Kiss


P0004130
Originally uploaded by butch stroll.

Girls


P0004136
Originally uploaded by butch stroll.
There has been some inter-species lesbian action going on in the Compound lately.

Not that there's anything wrong with that.

Me Too


P0004140
Originally uploaded by butch stroll.
Saw this scrawled on a "Phat Girlz" poster downtown today.

April 1

I don't know who's right? Who's wrong?
It really doesn't matter when you're lying in the gutter.
It's a see saw.
A long hard battle with the cold law,
is what you get for messin' with the Steel Claw.


Last night was beautiful so S.D.A. and I went over to this little bourgie joint in the neighborhood called Locale. En route, we witnessed some woman having her face rubbed in the pavement by some other woman, who was raring back and strait up kicking her ass. There were two cops and lots of male friends trying to keep the claws from further coming out. S.D.A. claims the white woman used the N word. At any rate it must be embarassing and damaging to be repeatedly punched in the face on a busy thoroughfare on a Friday night with about 1,000 people gathered round to watch.

As we are ourselves delicate young ladies, we bypassed the whole brouhaha. The bartendress at our decidely non-violent and laid back Locale, who seemed disappointed that we were immune to her fabulous rack, told S.D. that he looks like the dude from Linkin Park. Neither of us really have any idea who that is. My frame of reference for pop culture stops around 1999.

Today is April Fool's Day, which I usually take great pleasure in, but here, I'll just give you a truly tasteless joke that I read in the Unfogged comments rather than convince you I'm going in for colo-rectal surgery tomorrow:

A man drives up beside a kid walking home and says, "Hey kid, I'll give you a piece of candy if you come in the car."

The kid says, "Mister, for the whole bag I'll come in your mouth."

I go to Connecticut for a week on Monday, so love me while I last.