Monthly Archives: August 2003

Ho ho hizoz

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A friend of mine described me as a nympho once. “Oh, my dear boy,” I responded. “Do you know how many years it’s been since I last had a root?”

I was delighted to read in the Straight Dope that nymphomania doesn’t really exist anymore as a legitimate psychological condition. There’s just a non-specific condition about people who are distressed when they have sex a lot. In other words, having frequent, compulsive sex is only a problem if it bothers you to do so.

I went for a walk down to the Waitakere Dam. On the way down I past various groups of people walking up. All the old couples said hello to me, all the younger couples were too absorbed in conversation about relationships or gossip to even look up.

When I got back I was searching for information about the dam and found this. I didn’t even know it was there. I don’t remember writing it. WTF?

My web site is stagnating. I hate that. Ever since I started this Live Journal I’ve all but abandoned my web site simply because the LJ is a) easier to update and b) more fun. I want to merge the two sites, but it’s just taking so long. The good news is that I’ve asked my web site admin guy to install Movable Type, and he’s promised to look into it, so that’s a start.

I feel burdened by technology.

Pomme de terre

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I’m impressed with the anonymous sources that the New Zealand Herald uses to spice up its news stories.

A few weeks ago, in an article about a guy who was badly burned during the filming of a reality TV show, a source was quoted as saying that the fellow was “a really unhappy customer”. That’s really masterful understatement. I like it when anonymous sources cop an attitude.

Then in today’s Herald, in an article about Jonah Lomu’s secret wedding, a source was quoted as saying, “I guess it was a nice wedding but I’m not the wedding type.”

Wow, the anonymous source is not the wedding type. I would like to see such snippets of personality come through in future articles. For example:

A source close to the MP said that late night drinking was often common. “After a late night in the debating chamber the vodka would come out. I am lactose intolerant, enjoy the films of Akira Kurosawa and I am an unfulfilled submissive.”

It’s about time that anonymous sources get the recognition that they deserve.

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My favourite daily half hour of TV at the moment is Batman, which is on Monday to Friday at 6 pm on Prime. Today’s villain was The Minstral and while Batman was at police HQ discussing the fiendish antics of his latest nemesis, Commissioner Gordon commented that the crook was, “A minstral who is also an electronic genius. What a strange combination!” Like, OMG, doesn’t that just describe makers of electronica. (No, not really, but it’s a good quote.)

It’s funny watching the old Batman. I reckon it’s about halfway through the run. The fresh early excitement is gone. The dialogue is starting to get a little bit self-referential and sarcastic, all of the villains have a sexy woman in their crew of goons, but it’s not quite at the dire final season where Batgirl (almost the Scrappy-Do of the series) was introduced.

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“Space” have a weekly feature called “New Zealand Pride”. They pick out little moments from overseas movies, TV shows, etc where New Zealand is mentioned. Months ago I submitted an idea for it and tonight it was used. There’s a scene in the David Mamet film “Heist” where Gene Hackman’s character has acquired two false New Zealand passports. If you look really closely you can see that the city of issue is “New Castle” which is not in New Zealand. See, if I was a customs official Gene Hackman wouldn’t be going anywhere.

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I saw “Confessions of a Dangerous Mind” today. I’d seen it before in gay Paris, so it was novel seeing it without French subtitles. I also wasn’t sick, so I didn’t cough all the way through it. There were a bunch of giggly girls who girlishly giggled whenever Sam Rockwell’s barenaked buttocks were shown. It’s good film. It’s beautifully photographed (cinematographed?) and I am easily won over by the kind of tricky love that Chuck and Penny have. And it has the infamous “in the ass” segment of “The Newlywed Game”.

Ready to roll

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There’s an ad I’ve seen a few times for a cheap-arse compilation CD called “Music, Music, Music”. It’s filled with hits songs from that time after World War II and before rock ‘n’ roll. In fact, the ad’s voice over says something like, “before there was rock ‘n’ roll there were song like…” and “How much is that doggy in the window?” is played.

But watching that ad and seeing all the cute novelty songs that had filled the charts in those years made me get down on my knees and thank God for rock ‘n’ roll.

I remember asking my parents if they were into disco music in the ’70s. They reacted with shock and horror, like I’d asked them if they partook in bi-weekly coffee enemas. “Oh no,” my mother exclaimed. “Disco music is modern.”

My parents listen to classical music. I think my mother listens to it because she genuinely likes it (she does the classical music show on Raglan Community Radio, yo), but I think my dad likes classical music more because he thinks he should listen to it, not because he actually likes it. He’s truer when he puts the Simon and Garfunkel greatest hits CD on.

So I grew up in a quiet house. Apart from the half hour of music videos provided by “Ready To Roll” every Saturday at 6.00 pm, I didn’t have much pop in my life. But then in mid-1985 I bought Madonna’s “Like A Virgin” on tape and everything changed.

Well, that’s the short version.

Po’

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Now it’s time for me to reveal the translation of the old Polish folk saying that I posted here a couple of days ago.

“Robyn ma cycki i zabija ludzi wzrokiem, bo moze,” means:

Robyn has tits and kills people with her eyes, because she can.

(Ruchaj mnie. Liz mi cipke.)

Iron, balls.

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Coming home on the bus today I saw a woman opened her newly purchased box of Winsor Pilates bits and pieces. I’ve seen the Winsor Pilates infomercial enough to be immune to its seductive call. It’s just another workout video and like most of the fitness-related infomercials it has the fine print that acknowledges that you have to stop eating shit to get the killer abs in the infomercial.

What it comes down to, what they never show in the infomercials, is that you will be required to get down on the floor in front of your TV and wave your arms and legs around. You will need to do this every day, even on the days when you don’t feel like doing it. And that while you can lose weight and tone your muscles, you’ll never look as hot as Daisy Fuentes does in the infomercial.

Pumping iron is much more fun.

At the gym this morning I was reading a women’s magazine while I was warming up on the treadmill. I flicked past the usual latest celebrity styles, how to get five different looks from one shirt, why anorexia is really bad, etc. Suddenly one page caught my attention.

It was the sex advice page and was doing one of those “how to please your man” things. There a quote from the text had been pulled out. It read, “When my partner is about to come, I squeeze his balls.” I almost fell off the treadmill.

Come on, partners don’t get their balls squeezed. Boyfriends do.