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Current Entertainment:
Books Lying
Open
Soul-Devouring
Worry
Life's
Too Short For:
Curse of the Day:
Phrase
of the Moment: Sadly, it's also a very verbal thing that doesn't translate very well into text, as this description proves. -- October 13, 2003 |
Monday November 10, 2003 | ||
| Quote
of the Day -- QotD Archives
In WWI, we had citizens who used to go around kicking dachshunds, on the grounds that they were "German dogs." You notice people like that never go around kicking German shepherds. -- Molly Ivins |
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Daily Blog This blog is running late already, so I'll just throw in a couple of amusing news photos from Sunday up here, and then discuss blood and perspectives below.
€ So here's a photo of the creepy-looking new Mr. Universe, Rene Zimmermann, of Switzerland. I don't find his physique creepy since he's more or less still in proportion, and he doesn't have those giant corded veins across his muscles that look like leeching snakes. What makes him creepy
is the skin tone, which is like nothing I've ever seen in nature. He's
um... charcoal-y? I really can't figure it out; he's obviously
Caucasian, and tanned to well past "skin cancer brown," and
then he's got some sort of darkening body oil on top of that. His
face is much lighter though, as if he tans with a ski mask on, and look
at his left shoulder, where the veins are white beneath his skin, and
make him look marbled or cracked. Even his hair is unnatural; a sort of
light brownish-gray, much like his skin. He does not look organic
in any sense of the word.
The fact that he's virtually without genitalia is far from my first
concern, though it did make Malaya giggle.
So I hunted around the Internet, trying to find anther photo of him, from past competitions or whatever. Maybe he's got a new color of body oil, or this photo is weirdly-tinted, or the light was odd, or something. I found nothing. Well, that's not true, I found out that there are a lot of people named Rene Zimmerman, including a post-impressionist painter, but all the pages I found about this guy were new ones, mentioning the Mr. Universe win, or else old pages with text only lists of body building competition winners, in foreign languages. There are other photos of him from this year's win, showing him standing next to actual humans, and you can tell that the first one isn't a bad photo, he really is this color. This disturbs me terribly.
€ Want to spice up your party? Buy some girls.
First of all, doesn't Ebay forbid sales of human beings? Or even rentals? Secondly, is this really a good buy? I'd think you could get half a dozen strippers and about 10 kegs for a lot less than $28,000. Though strippers aren't exactly known for their fun loving natures and witty dialogue. As the article says, it's probably a promotional thing for some company that's actually the highest bidder, buying them for the guaranteed media coverage and planning on taking it as a business expense. Here you can get a look at them.
Six German women pose with a crate of beer. The six promise to add sparkle to even the dullest party, have sold themselves in an Internet auction for just over 25,000 euros on the e-Bay site. (AFP/HO) |
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I was playing with Jinxers and gaining a whole new crop of scratches last
night, I realized how much I like Malaya's attitude towards injury and
pain and blood.
I'm pretty blasι about injury myself. I complain or at least talk about it when I injure myself or I'm hurting from a work out, but I never really do anything about it. I just wait a few days and let my body heal, and I'm not big on taking Advil or Tylenol or using bandaids, unless I'm actually bleeding and that's causing a problem. Malaya is much the same, and even less inclined to gripe about her sore spots or headache or cramps or whatever than I am. I appreciate this a lot, since it drives me crazy when people go on and on about some injury, or worry about bandaids or disinfectants or creams or other such things for a tiny little cut. I've known people who would wear a bandaid over a hangnail for a week and talk about it every chance they got, and I'm not even going to mention the old people phenomena of talking about nothing but their litany of infirmities. Currently Jinx is getting very playful and into attacking things, and when Dusty's not around or in the mood, she's not adverse to substituting a human hand. She'll be lying there, asleep or dozing, and if I start to rub her back she'll roll over onto her belly, and if I poke at her belly she becomes "Oh! So fierce!" kitty and grabs my hand/wrist and bites at me furiously, while kicking with her back feet.
She bites pretty good, but can't quite break the skin, even with her sharp little baby teeth (I'm really ready for those needles to fall out) though it does hurt some. I poke my fingers into her throat or the sides of her mouth or just make her bite at my fingernails, and she can't get a good chomp going then. It's mostly her front claws, which I need to trim again, that dig into the back of my hand for a grip and scratch me. I don't especially enjoy the occasional good scratch, or how my hand is itching now from all the tiny, infected slices, but I like to play with Jinx and she's hella-cute when she's being fierce. She drew blood just once during the couch sparring, when she leaped onto the couch at a full run, and one of her lower teeth hit the point of my thumb, her little tusk poking a tiny hole that bled a few drops. Ironically, earlier in the evening she was attacking her mousie, which has the cardboard heart of a a toilet paper roll tied onto it, and as I was spurring her on and poking her and turning her around, I reached down to poke at her belly and she accidentally swiped my fingers as she was savaging the cardboard tube. Her (un)lucky slash got me across the tips of the ring and middle fingers on my right hand and left crescent-shaped wounds on both, which bled pretty merrily for a bit. I did wash those off and then held them tightly against my palm for 10 minutes to let the bleeding stop, and I was typing last night and this morning with small bits of medical tape on the tips of my fingers, since the cuts are exactly where my fingers hit the keys.
This has gone a bit off track, but my initial point was how Malaya reacts to this sort of thing. She doesn't. I mean she goes, "Ooh, honey, does that hurt?" and when I saw "ehhh..." and go to wash off the blood, she goes back to doing her own thing. She's concerned for me and would help if I needed it, but she doesn't make a big deal about it and doesn't get all upset about it. She's very practical about it, and cynical even, with her, "Well, you deserved it for fucking with the cat." The problem we see with this is that I have basically the same cavalier attitude towards personal injury, and if we ever propagate and have the inevitable scabby-kneed child, he'll fall down or stub a toe or something and come crying to us, and we'll both nod and say, "Well, I guess you'll be more careful next time, eh?" Doesn't a child need at least one parent to smother him with affection and overblown concern and coddling treatment, so he knows he's really loved and feels secure in the world? I guess we'll find out in about 10 years... |
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