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Wednesday, 7 September 2011

AMPHIBIANS

Stuff I like about amphibians.

1. The main photo on the amphibians Wikipedia page is this:


LOOK HOW CUTE! OH HE’S JUST SO TINY AND RED AND SWEET AND CUTE OMG I LOVE HIM WHERE CAN I BUY ONE WHERE, WHERE…. Oh, what’s that? He’s called a ‘Strawberry (still cute) poison dart (WTF?!)’ frog? Hello, PetSmart, can I cancel my order please…

2. They have really awesome specie names, like Mudpuppies. MUDPUPPIES. And when you’re
older, Waterdogs. Think about it, an alien crash-lands into a field full of Mudpuppies that you
just so happen to be standing in (we’ll pretend you’re in Texas). The alien wants one Earth
species to probe and, naturally, anally investigate, and another species to give the second half
of his ‘FRIENDS FOREVER’ locket to. You’re a human, he’s a Mudpuppy. Yeah, pants down, dude. Hope you packed your KY jelly.

3. They have multi-jointed fins which are practically legs, so if they totally can’t be bothered
swimming anymore they just stroll along the sea bed instead. Yeah, and they can happily live
underwater OR on land. Paint them grey and stick a Dorito on their backs, you’ve got yourself
some land sharks.

4. Yeah, he might look like your rubbery-to-the-touch water-based pal, but back in the ‘olden days’ frogs were seen as a sign of the Devil. No official word on whether this was due to them being bright red with black, soulless eyes, answering only to the name of ‘poison dart’.

5. They make for truly awesome Iranian proverbs: "When the snake gets old, the frog gets him by
the balls."

6. ‘We all stand together…’ known to kids of my generation as THE FROG SONG! Oh come on, you all know it!


7. And finally, one word. Kermit. I’m still refining my master plan to pillage GaGa’s wardrobe so
that I can steal (and actually wear in public) THIS:

EFFORT

The work begins as soon as she walks through the door—the real work, that is, the hard work of
keeping so many contradictory impulses and actions tied down. One would hope one would be
past this sort of adolescent effluvium when we get wounded, but alas, that’s never the case, and
the hard work is pretending otherwise. But pretending is important, because if I let myself do
something else, I’m not sure what that would be. Better to sit, listen to the trite patter all around
us, nurse some wine, and assume she feels the same.

I want to give in, but like I said, it’s a bad idea. I can’t act on them all, so which emotion
wins? Do I wind up in a supreme display of suavery, and sweep her off her feet again? Seems
unlikely, I burned through what little suaveness I have weeks ago in a drunken flurry of texting.
An earnest outpouring of hurt seems more likely, some painful spiral of embarrassment that
culminates in me crying into her knees, or an explosion of recrimination, pointing fingers and
demands to know “Why?”

The worst part, should any of those happen, everyone in the room, who all have suspicions, will
know. So as hard as it is, I sit, and hold back.

When relief comes, it comes as more work, more withholding. It starts with complaining.
He’s complaining, making demands, issuing ultimatums, insisting the rest of us kowtow to his
prejudices and eccentricities. Power play, or cry for attention, or whatever is going on in his
head, it pushes what’s going on in mine aside, because now I can be straight up annoyed and
angry. But still, I can’t let fly with everything, burn the bridge and the road too, clue him in on
his real value, and the things he doesn’t seem to see that are obvious to everyone else. That’d be fun, but fleeting. But fun. But no, not worth the social cost. Nice to be distracted, though.

But then more reasonable heads speak. They reframe, bring their own perspectives, attitudes,
and whatnot and whatever. So, for the sake of the group, I back down, give up my empty little
victory over the evening. Then it’s time for her to go—she stands and says goodbyes, and I make sure the porch light is on. She meets my eyes, and makes a little joke about my eccentricities.

So maybe my efforts weren’t for nothing. Maybe next time it’ll be easier.

List of 15:
Coffee (haw haw)
Light
Travel
Morning
The horizon

Injury
Seasons
Petty fear
Neighborhoods
Motion
Noise
Expectations
Play
Fire
Community

Tuesday, 23 August 2011

TEA

Tea Time Tongue Twister

Tea
Teas
Tease
Trees
Teeny
Tiny
Tim
Timber
Timbre
Tim Burton
Tit Tat
Tattie
Tittie
Tassle
Tremble
Tumble
Tip
Trip
Tim Tam
Tom Tom
Tic Tac
Tick Tock
Tact
Tactic
Take
Taken
Took
Toke
Tome
Tomb
Tune
Toon
Tool
To
Two
Too
Tutu
Tote
Total
Table
Top
Tapas
Texas
Tacos
Tasty
Treat
Teak
Tiki
Trek
Trekkie
Turk
Turkey
Tack
Tacky
Treacle
Tickle
Triple
Tipple
Tea

TEA

When my brother was 16, he ate a box of teabags. I decided to interview him about this. Some names and places may have been changed.

1. Describe the events that led up to you eating the teabags. Set the scene for us.

I was a 16 year old boy in a well sheltered, market town world, whereby my weekends were mainly spent evading someone's parents to have a few drinks in an empty house or park somewhere. One Friday, late after a number of beers, a friend and I decided we were too hungry at ridiculous time in the morning, and with nothing substantial in the house made the half hour walk to town. Of course in 2002 the 24hour license had not yet come in and most takeaways were shut by 2am. In the state both of us were in we had forgotten this fact and therefore descended upon the local 24hr shop, where a friend from college was working. The walk to town had not sobered me in the slightest and seemed only to encourage our drunken tomfoolery and by the time we reached the shop, I had forgotten entirely why we were there. Instead I seemed to grab the three most random objects I could find, consisting of a bag of tea bags, a pint of milk and a lemon, obviously. Just as I was at the checkout with these items, the majority of a local football team walked in through the door after a night out 'on the town'. As jovial as my friend was who accompanied me, he decided to set me a challenge...

2. How many teabags would you estimate that you ate?

Well the challenge kept getting extended one bag at a time, with the eager anticipation and chanting and beating of the window in unison by the football team grew louder. At this point I must have been at around 6 or 7 bags. This is when the interest was lost from my local support, by my 9th bag no one was watching any more, so I stopped to wash these down with a cool refreshing bite of lemon (still unpeeled) and a glug of semi skimmed milk.

However, not to be put off by lack of interest, for this did not need to be a spectator sport, I continued to wolf down 2 more bags, before I start to feel the previous bags repeat...

3. What brand were they? Was brand important at this stage?

They were Tetley. I think even within my drunken state I would never have gone for a brand I could not trust, for who knows what my plan for them was at that point.

4. How did they taste? Like tea, or different somehow?

The initial taste was tea, that familiar aroma touched my tongue, but soon after the first bite, something foreign distinguished itself from the usual liquid form. A dryness not too dissimilar to dead grass (summer '97) came about, but even this was manageable until the sheer volume of tea between mouth and stomach was just too much to take.

5. Just so people don't try and get in on the action by claiming 'they were there', how many people actually witnessed the event?

1 challenge-setting best friend
8 chanting local football players
1 24hr shop attendant (hiding the guilt of the shop going into disarray too well with his own chanting and stomping)

6. Would you say it is something that everyone should try it once?

If they were to try this, I would suggest an alternative method, maybe as part of a balanced diet. For example a bag before breakfast on weekdays and then mid morning on weekends.

7. Did you feel the respect of the crowd go up or down as you ate the teabags?

It was definitely on a scale due to the nature and state of the crowd (mainly drunk adolescents).

Bags 1-2 were met with bemusement, however 3 - 6 were met with awe and I imagine an air of jealousy, before the shame spiral of 7 -10, with retained but still mild respect for bag 11 and the 're-emergence'.

8. What advice would you give to amateurs considering eating tea bags, you know, the rookies coming up in the scene?

Keep your act simple, don't try too much too early and be versatile, cut in some other forms of non-digestible foods, like lemon peel, banana skin, the tasty yet strangely papery feel of cupcake wrapping. But most importantly, keep it spontaneous, keep it real.

9. Did you even for a second consider taking it up professionally?

After a mixed response to my first attempt it was either do the research and really devote myself to achieving what is necessary to make to the big leagues or revert back to my studies and use it as a recreational yet beautiful sport activity. 10 seconds of thought went into this.

10. Any words of wisdom for our vast Internet audience?

If any of you lovely people find yourself hungry on a Friday night and no food for which to eat, don't make that trip.....you probably aren't ready. Ready for the sweeping statements, the false hopes, the overwhelming emotions of the sequence of events. And even if you surpass all of this and you have a semi-successful punt at it, don't go on a victory lap like I did, throwing the remaining 13 bags (24 pack) into the River Lemon, claiming it now to be 'TEA RIVER' - container of your triumphant soul.

Sunday, 14 August 2011

TEA

Memories attached to various cups of tea

1) Yerba Mate - Mate reminds me of half-baked potheads at 3am at a
cereal bar. Besides 13 year olds, they were the only people who would
frequent a place that only serves cereal, coffee, and a variety of odd
teas. Late at night. I like the fact that you need a special cup and
straw to drink the stuff, though probably neither are necessary. I
have high hopes of owning a mate set one day, yet I don't have a clue
how to prepare it.

2) Rooibos - Who on Earth knows how that's spelled? That's my shot at
it. This tea has two strong memories for me to date: dating someone
nearly 10 years my senior when I wasn't yet old enough to buy a *real*
drink, and my favorite corner study spot in my last years of my
graduate program - a small tea house that turned to a wine bar at 6PM.
You seriously never had to leave. What more could you want? Red tea in
the afternoon, red wine in the evening. Rooibos (sp? damn you!)
reminds me of the most irresponsible and the most responsible times in
my life.

3) Jasmine Tea - Jasmine tea is what the office nurse always gave me
when I came in in tears, unable to finish my expense reports and
feeling alone and isolated for my lack of ability to communicate in a
foreign language. We couldn't communicate. She just gave me Jasmine
Tea, and once hugged me. She was the only person who touched me the
whole time I lived abroad. Jasmine Tea, to this day, takes me to the
pit of the absolute deepest despair I have ever felt. The flowery,
light, playful flavor immediately makes my heart sink. I don't drink
Jasmine tea.

4) Sweet Tea
- yes, it sure as hell IS tea. And it reminds me of
sitting on the porch, and watching the birds at the feeder, and times
being a lot simpler and sweeter. It reminds me of childhood and being
barefoot. I find it cute that no one up North even knows what it IS.

5) Green Tea - Green Tea reminds me of business meetings. Very long
business meetings. Meetings in which I understood very little, and
compensated by drinking a lot of tea instead. Meetings I often had to
interrupt with embarrassment to ask to be directed to the restroom
because waiting until the meeting was over was really pushing it.

Wednesday, 10 August 2011

TEA

How to make a decent cup of tea in London.

London has hard water which makes tea taste terrible. Here’s my own personal routine that must be performed so I don’t go off on a northern rant.

  1. Descale regularly.

Kettles get covered in limescale really quickly. If you’ve never descaled yours, take a look inside. See all that white stuff stuck to the bottom and floating in the water? That’s limescale. Buy a descaler (the main brand is called Oust) and use it. Then suddenly the kettle is clean again.

  1. Buy a Brita filter

Those magic jugs you’ve seen advertised, they help clear the crap out of tapwater. Use one of those before you pour the water into the kettle.

  1. Use proper teabags

Yorkshire Tea makes a teabag especially for hard water. Buy those.

  1. Tear open a pack of Jaffa Cakes and have a nice sit down.

This is not mandatory but advised.


Wednesday, 27 July 2011

KISSING

Top Five Stories on Google News with the Word "Kissing" in Them as of Sunday 17 July

1. James Bond director Sam Mendes lures Rhys Ifans, who once kissed Daniel Craig
The Telegraph clearly doing a cracking SEO job here. Mostly it’s about Rhys Ifans joining the cast of the next Bond film. And a bit about them doing an on-screen kiss in Enduring Love.

2. Kissing and cuddling more important to men
According to this newspaper in Montreal, men are actually happier in relationships and enjoy a good snuggle. Apparently Japanese men and women are the happiest and most sexually satisfied. The Americans are very much not satisfied.

3. Gardai investigated claim bishop kissed teenage altar boy
Another unhappy tale of a Catholic bishop being a giant pervert. Clearly not happy with men his own age, which is OLD, this wayward religious man went after a teenage boy instead.

4. Questions remain from 'kissing case'
‎A slightly odd column from a newspaper in Charlotte, N Carolina about a case from 1958 where two schoolboys were accused of rape after a young girl gave them a kiss on the cheek.

5. Harry Potter And The Alternative History of Movie Kisses

Prompted by the furore around the much-anticipated kiss between Hermione and Ron in the new Harry Potter film, this writer provides a list of kisses that are better. Includes such delights as Planet of the Apes, Dumb and Dumber and Jackass 3D.