ultranow

the stupidest thing i've ever felt proud about

yesterday i noticed the wiki for self-proclaimed fitness celebrity john basedow had a picture that was completely not john basedow.  it was in fact someone doing a poor john basedow impression.  i immediately took action, registering on wikipedia and creating a discussion on the image saying "this is totally not a picture of john basedow."  as of this moment, the picture is no more.

do i have the energy to post an actual picture of him?  no.  that would be a ridiculous waste of time.  and if you're wondering why i was at his wiki in the first place, well he's a fitness celebrity so that's why.

diana ross happy happy happy

with all the diana ross looks skillfully recreated for beyoncé's deena jones in dreamgirls, why ever didn't they recreate this one?  possibly the assumed peta membership of the muppets precluded them from working with fur purveyor beyoncé?  i don't care if it's just fur trim on one of your house of dereon outfits, lady.  animals still had to be killed for it.

to keep things even, here's a tip for those of you who wear real fur and get vandalized by protestors wielding buckets of blood.  just say "you know how many fake animals had to die for all that fake blood?  murderers!!!"  i guarantee befuddlement.  and befuddlement guarantees are not offered lightly in this world.

back to the picture.  in case you're not sure, diana's the one whose uvula you can't see.

fetish test: the resurrection

this ultranow public service is brought to you by the letters suck and fuck and the number moan.  drrrty test pics after the jump.  previous editions:  fetish test and fetish test redux.

entrancement meter
1-2 seconds = nope
3-5 seconds = maybe you're into this
6-10 seconds = you want this
11-infinity seconds = you need this

very close to being unethical

i nearly recorded the most obnoxious cell conversation i've ever been forced to overhear on the bus.  it powered it's way through my headphones, right over morningwood's jetsetter and hudson's and i am telling you, because i can only turn up my mp3 player's volume so loud.  i recalled my player had a mic for recording, you know so i can record art history lectures while i party in the quad with my gay gang. now since i don't go to college anymore, this feature is très irrelevant, until that conversation was behind me and terrifying me and i wanted some proof of it.

but since recording it and posting it here would be unethical, i'll just have to highlight the most horrifying bits:

• 15 year old gay pipsqueak who uses the word like literally every third word.  my 7th grade english teacher would have shat.
• crowded rush hour bus and he's sitting directly behind me and talking twice as loud and twice as fast as any other cell conversation i've ever heard on the bus.
• he talks extensively about his friend with the last name nordstrom (as in the store).  alexis nordstrom or allison nordstrom i think it was. guess what, she's popular!
• he's frustrated with the lack of service when he goes to barneys new york.  don't they know he is rich?!
• he's cancelling his burberry card because they are also rude to him [which makes no sense because i don't find any reference to a burberry credit card on burberry.com, just a gift card, and why would you cancel a gift card when that's basically throwing away money?  oh right, he probably throws money away for fun.]
• he won't let the person on the other end, if there even is a person on the other end, talk one bit.
• he doesn't reduce his volume even after i spin around and gift him with a glare.
• the bus takes forever to get me home because seattle has poor regional planning

after i finally escaped the bus, passing a couple of guys who were about to get on, i pointed at where i had been sitting and firmly warned them not to sit there.  the gay one of the two new passengers (i don't know how i could tell, i just could) expressed appreciation for my warning, understanding innately how being annoyed is not a desirable way to be.  as the hapless heterosexual victim boarded the bus and likely made his way to the seat of horror,  the new gay passenger said to me "annoying cell phone call?"  i shout "no, annoying like cell phone call!"  i was a good samaritan of annoyance defense.

it's all about the color red

it's all about the jim morrison sketch

after the jump because of penis.

it's all about the hair

man not men

men are a group and concept and intimidation factor.  men are these things that are not people.  men are when i don't understand what's happening.  they walk or roll or crawl and are not me.  they don't look like me.  they don't talk like me.  they don't think like me.  they are they. 

i was a feminist in 1977.  taking a swim class at the town pool.  it goes minnow then beginner then advanced beginner then something after that.  the male teacher taught the class.  there were things like go underwater and tell me how many fingers i'm holding up so i had to open my eyes to the chlorine which i barely did.  i didn't know the fingers answer.  there was blowing bubbles out of my nose which i didn't do correctly.  there were other humiliations but it was a class so i would come back and learn it eventually.  i was okay with failure as long as it was temporary.

the male teacher separated out those of us who were boys and got us in a huddle and said conspiratorially that he was passing us all on to the next level but not the girls because boys are better than girls.  i refused to walk the few feet down the pool to the next class.  i didn't know how to open my eyes underwater and count.  i didn't know how to blow bubbles out of my nose.  i refused.  i walked to the chain link fence at the edge of the poolside pavement.  i cried by the chain link fence at the edge of the poolside pavement.  i had been part of the male huddle but it scared me.  i failed at male conspiracy as much as i'd failed at minnow lessons.

i went home and nobody understood because i didn't understand.  i wasn't ready for the next level of swimming lessons like some of the girls were.  by keeping them back he would continue to teach the girls.  he hated boys.  he didn't want any boys in his class.  he hated boys who were minnows.  the swimming instructor was men.  he was not a man.  he was men.  he was not me.  and i didn't understand.  men are big and scary and confusing and have motivations that are their own alone.

i wish to know man.  a man.  i look at men on the street.  i look at men on the bus.  i look at men everywhere i can look at men.  and now i see man.  i see man and man and man and man and man i don't know.  i see man who i wish to know.  man and man and man.  individuals.  who i don't know.  who don't scare me no matter who he is and he is and he is.  i see he and his and him and each is man not men.  now i am not confused.  i can choose to greet and smile and avoid and dance and kiss and laugh and fuck and man.  i can choose a man a a a man.  and act. 

and if a man hurts me.  if a man attempts to hurt me.  if a man is himself and himself is cruel.  that is a man not men.  it is man one.  not men all.  i wish to know man and man and man and man.  not men.

i can't quite tell if these guys are gay or not

lesson in seattlelism

packed bus.  guy standing in the aisle rants about how he's going to cut the next person who messes with him, who asks him to move, who touches him, who basically does anything in relation to him.  he says repeatedly he has razors and he'll cut someone and take them out or punch them bap bap bap then run off the bus and get away.  some people smirk and the person nearest to him in the aisle on one side shies away from him.  ignoring is fine.  not making oneself a target is fine.  shying away is fine.

but if this were philadelphia where i used to live, i can't help but think people would have literally gotten off the bus out of actual fear or yelled for the bus driver to do something.  or called the police on their cell phones.  seattle is so damned laid back that even someone giving all the signs of being a real threat (and providing the added negative motivation of smelling like shit and vomit) is ignored.  the response of most appeared to be turning up their ipods.  well npr won't save you when you're being razored and punched.  and last i checked threats were considered assault, then battery is the actual attack.

i want seattle to be in the present.  i want seattle to have emotion.  i want seattle to be real.  i want the same things of myself.  i was crammed in the far back of the bus.  nowhere to move.  no cell phone.  alone in my emotions.  with a threat between me and the door.  that's not a good place to be.  i need a bath.