goddesscafe

Friday, December 07, 2001 :::

sank you, sank you for all my b-day messages, via e-mail and blog and phone. Ze allumeuse plans to shortly get eurotrashed.

::: posted by Alura Allumeuse at 5:23 PM

birthday cats from joel & erica

are you seriously feeling hypomanic, alura? not really something to take lightly if you are...

more for kurt than anyone else, but: our friend brad, aka crakhed, is now living the high life in orlando. he worries, though, that he suffers from bigorexia (no joke).

lyric of the day, from cincinnati's own talib kweli and dj hi-tek: These cats drink champagne/To toast death and pain/Like slaves on the ship talkin' 'bout who got the flyest chains.

::: posted by kevin seal at 3:44 PM

I feel good...in a special way...I'm in love and it's a sunny day... *

::: posted by Alura Allumeuse at 12:09 PM

review of the coup show:

i couldn't believe how few people were there. any show featuring dj spooky that subliminal kid as the headliner, with the coup as the opener, should attract several hundred people. topcat's was maybe 150.

most of the crowd (which was mostly white) was there to see dj spooky, so a grand total of 5 people (i was one of them) were really dancing to boots riley and the coup. a lot of people were standing there, but hardly anyone moved. the band was tight, particularly the drummer, a recent berkeley high grad. a few trading-fours breakdowns were sloppy on the unison hits, but it was forgivable. dj pam the funkstress was not there, due to an illness in the family. but they sounded fantastic. i usually can't dance if i'm one of only a few, but i shook my ass like a man possessed.

boots talked between songs about his friend, jeremy, whose father had died in the WTC. "jeremy asked me to relay a message to you all," he said. "he says, 'don't let our families' tragedy be used to promote brutality.'" (i'm paraphrasing here.) his anti-war speech encouraged wild applause from the cincinnati crowd.

dj spooky, the headliner, was all scribbley and scratchy. jamalski was the mc for the night, with occasional beatboxing from one of cincinnati's own, a guy from iswhat?.

i spoke with boots, his super-tall bass player, and his keyboard player (the only white guy in the band), and all were very friendly. boots was signing cd's, and writing a full page of text on each one.

::: posted by kevin seal at 11:48 AM

Joel Elrod is my new boyfriend (you say he's married? Damn)...I've had this hanging in my house since I saw the Willie Nelson show in Feb (was it really that long ago?). Wow...you know cool people Laura, if I do say so myself ;)

Thursday, December 06, 2001 :::

NEW! FRIENDLY PROMOTION: I'm pleased to announce the addition of another piece of content to the po dgehodge website, a selection of poems entitled "In the Waiting Room." I approve of these poems, which by the way, were written by a Midwesterner living in San Francisco. So here's your link (imagine fanfare):

Time for some more friend-promo...today's featured artist is Joel, of Joel & Erica, and the same boy who left bruises and rug burns all over my body in a drunken wrestling match last weekend. (Alex, that would be the one example of a decent marriage I can come up with, but they're still young. :p They're very interested in doing creative projects together, which is the latest requirement on my own personal relationship-list. She's a writer, he's also in a band...they're both pretty rad)

::: posted by Alura Allumeuse at 10:22 AM

Wednesday, December 05, 2001 :::

So I got a birthday card today from my dad (handy with tools, he is) (Kevin, I never noted before that we both come from fathers with blonde, cowlicked hair) (obviously some ancestor somewhere made it to your neighborhood as well...and check out the name on this one...and hey, this one sang!) that's a word problem...it's a lot of little cartoons in an equation: (boy) + (girl) + (heart/love) x (beer) - (brain) + (car) = (shaking car) + (sperm) + (egg) = ... and then on the inside, it says "YOU!" Dad wrote "I looked long and hard for the most offensive card I could find. Hope you are disgusted." Sheesh. These are my genes. (for the record, neither of my parents drink, and I'm pretty sure I wasn't conceived in a car) To my dad's credit, here's a story. Apparently when I was very little, I watched The Gong Show with my parents. I have no memory of this whatsoever, this is just what I've been told. But I guess I understood the scoring concept, because when dad gave me a piece of paper with the number 10 written on it, I excitedly cried "Baby got a TEN!!!"

::: posted by Alura Allumeuse at 8:36 PM

Area Liberal Worried His Dry Cleaner Doesn't Like Him.

speaking of liberal, kurt and i are going to see the coup at topcat's tomorrow night. i expect it'll be much like trish's sweet honey in the rock experience -- a great mix of people coming out of the midwestern midwoodwork. except people will be pissed off instead of rejoicing. and i quote:

fresh dressed like a million bucks
i be the flyiest muthafucka in an afro and a tux
my arm is at a right angle up silver tray in my hand
may i interest you in some caviar ma'am
my eyes shoots round the room there and here
noticing the diamonds in the chandelier
background barry manilow copacabana
and a strong-ass scent of stoagies from havana
what no place where a brother might been
snobby ole ladies drinking champagne with rich white men
allrite then lets begin this
nights like this is good for business

::: posted by kevin seal at 6:21 PM

So I linked to Found Magazine yesterday...here's a hilarious article about it. Sample quote from a found love letter: It's like your a heart and I'm a soul and together we cannot function. Boy, if I got a letter like that, I'd be, uh...speechless.

My coworkers are trimming a tree right outside my office, singing carols and eating cheap-ass gingerbread cookies (no, I'm not bitter or anything, having specifically craved gingerbread all freaking day). My cantankerous supervisor walked by and declared Bah, humbug! Indeed.

::: posted by Alura Allumeuse at 4:32 PM

I like these: Cute Laura and Sexy Laura.

Okay, I took that enneagram whatchumacallit test. The peer pressure was too much. It was inconclusive: I'm a tie between Motivator (3), Helper (2), Generalist (7), and Peacemaker (9). I am everything and nothing, alpha and omega.

...Gilbert Gottfried, Ice T. and Stephen Hawking were poisoning pigeons in Central Park one sunny afternoon, when Simon & Garfunkel (they live on opposite ends of Central Park) see them and sing "buy a big bright green pleasure machine!" Hearing the sounds of rampant consumerism, Karl Marx spins in his grave, while Groucho Marx and John Lennon skip gaily across the park. A theatre critic from the Hoboken Daily Perimeter runs across the Central Park soccer field, blows a whistle, extends his right arm above his head, and shouts, "Five yards and change of possession: Too many characters on the field."

While they scatter to their respective NYC abodes, the critic is left alone with just the Alice in Wonderland statue to talk to. He asks her where the looking glass is, as he is looking for an escape from the recent stress of The City. Alice responds that she misplaced it some months ago, but if he should happen to find it, would he please return and tell her it's location. The critic - thoroughly disgusted with the un-helpful nature of his hallucination - vows to never again mix Trichloroethane and Simon & Garfunkel.

He then passes out on the edge of the fountain in Lincoln Center - dreaming of Schoenberg. La la de da, whistles Louie Da Bum as he fingers the critics pockets. A minute later, "The usual?" a clerk asks Louie. But he couldn't respond because of the image on television. It was Sir Ram-a-lot, squeezing buns left and right, excitedly commenting on their plumpness, warmth, and overall pleasing aesthetic. Then the chef explains how to drizzle icing on them to complete the cinnamon rolls. "BAM!" he cries, holding one aloft. An enraptured and hungry Louie begins to drool in little rosetta patterns all over the rolls, until the chef slaps the back of his head, sending a rivulet of saliva splashing onto the counter and wall in front of them.

My lips have remained unkissed for 5 wks, the longest ever (I know, no pity from any of you). And then I get this kissing article via e-mail. Ack!

...Sir Ram-a-Lot, squeezing buns left and right, excitedly commenting on their plumpness, warmth, and overall pleasing aesthetic. Then the chef explains how to drizzle icing on them to complete the cinnamon rolls. "BAM!" he cries, holding one aloft. An enraptured and hungry Louie begins to drool...

::: posted by Alura Allumeuse at 11:13 AM

Tuesday, December 04, 2001 :::

-dreaming of Schoenberg.---La la de da, whistles Louie Da Bum as he fingers the critics pockets. A minute later, "The usual?" a clerk asks Louie. But he couldn't respond because of the image on television. It was Sir Ram-a-lot...

::: posted by Kurt Kistler at 5:35 PM

I, apparently, am a 1 (reformer/perfectionist) strong sub 5 (thinker/observer)...so if I can't fix the world - you can find me in a bar watching it.

I'm also MC Escher's Lizards (not really sure how I feel about that...scaly at best I think).

Dana just bought me a tiny little digital camera (with movie function..yay!), and I finally fixed my scanner (on the blink since Aug. 2000). So expect a deluge of images in the coming months. (With any luck I'll have a website functioning soon - and can avoid doing everything via email.)

--- He asks her where the looking glass is, as he is looking for an escape from the recent stress of The City. Alice responds that she misplaced it some months ago, but if he should happen to find it, would he please return and tell her it's location. The critic - thoroughly disgusted with the un-helpful nature of his hallucination - vows to never again mix Trichloroethane and Simon & Garfunkel. Then passes out on the edge of the fountain in Lincoln Center - dreaming of Schoenberg.---

::: posted by Rogue Designer at 3:06 PM

So I'm Sir Ram-a-Lot now?

Sorry to post yr naked baby pics, Trish. It was the first thing that Google brought when I requested "Patricia Rini."

::: posted by kevin seal at 2:18 PM

Ewwwww...seeing those poems on the blog is like having my naked baby pictures in my high school yearbook. Where did you come across that site, Kevin? It's the web-arm of an old old friend's poetry and art zine, which is now in it's 6th year. Incidently, that picture is from the first time I ever met Sir Ram-a-Lot - Laura and I had gone out book-snooping earlier and I was expecting the cute IT guru from work to show up, but he never did : ( And, um, as I remember I had a stunning victory in that particular game of pool, yeah.

And, on that earlier personality test, I�m a 7 (but everyone who sees me thinks I�m a 10). I�m also a 7 numerologically and I have 3 7�s in my birthday. Coincidence�.or SATAN?

Laura, those helpful French phrases may be why you met so many rude people in France! Respect frogs and they will respect you back ;)

::: posted by Patricia Rini at 1:14 PM

Yes, she is. (original photo) At a Slaptones show, no less. While Kevin honked, we hid upstairs and played. Heh.

Too many characters on the field...while they scatter to their respective NYC abodes, the critic is left alone with just the Alice in Wonderland statue to talk to. He asks her where the looking glass is, as he is looking for an escape from the recent stress of The City.

::: posted by Alura Allumeuse at 11:47 AM

OK, it's promote-our-friends time again. Justin designs website for radio stations. Here are some of his babies: WIBC (conservative Indiana news station), Radio Now 93.1 (Indiana Top 40 station), Power 106 (2nd-largest hip hop station in the US, based in LA), Hot 97 (#1 hip hop station in the country, based in NYC), and 620 KTAR (Phoenix-based news radio station).

And, hey, go read some Trish! Question, Trish: Are you playing pool in that photo?

Gilbert Gottfried, Ice T. and Stephen Hawking were poisoning pigeons in Central Park one sunny afternoon, when Simon & Garfunkel (they live on opposite ends of Central Park) see them and sing "buy a big bright green pleasure machine!" Hearing the sounds of rampant consumerism, Karl Marx spins in his grave, while Groucho Marx and John Lennon skip gaily across the park. A theatre critic from the Hoboken Daily Perimeter runs across the Central Park soccer field, blows a whistle, extends his right arm above his head, and shouts, "Five yards and change of possession: Too many characters on the field."

::: posted by kevin seal at 9:51 AM

A magazine for peeps like Alex and Tad...some useful French phrases...and a silly diversion...what work of art are you? I'm Picasso's Three Musicians.

My fave headline today..."Scooter may not change world, experts say." Or how about the news that practically sounds like they've legalized speed. Or maybe: Bay Area -- Land of Hippies, Queers, Dot-Commers, and Taliban Soldiers. As for Trish's link to Fox "We Distort: You Decide" News...sheesh. I weep for the future of journalism. As for Stuart's caption link, here's more. As for Kurt's suggestion...um...poisoning pigeons in the park, when Simon & Garfunkel (they live on opposite ends of Central Park) see them and sing "buy a big bright green pleasure machine!" Hearing the sounds of rampant consumerism, Karl Marx spins in his grave, while Groucho Marx and John Lennon skip gaily across the park and...

::: posted by Alura Allumeuse at 9:29 AM

Alright, departing for a moment from the gloom and doom scenarios playing out in my head...I realized this weekend that I had vastly underestimated my humble little city. I went to see Sweet Honey in the Rock this weekend and, to just gush for a minute here, they were amazing! They do an acapella blend of gospel, jazz, folk, etc etc with a really uplifting and spiritual/political bent. I had written a long blog about how I thought they wouldn't attract a diverse audience because of cultural segregation here in Indy, blah blah blah, and I'm glad that I followed my instinct to trash it because I would have felt like an ass. The crowd there was a true cross-section of the city. Lots of African Americans, lots of white people (which I was not expecting), Asian Americans, disabled people, dykes, children, elderly folks...and every damn one of them got their groove on to this music. There was such a feeling of positive harmony in the room, everyone was clapping and singing like it was nobody's business. I think unconsciously I had bought into the west coast idea of the midwest as a white-only racist hick town, and I'm glad as hell that I was wrong. My apologies, Indianapolis.

::: posted by Patricia Rini at 9:02 AM

From the Opportunity Knocks file...

::: posted by Patricia Rini at 8:34 AM

This has been a Fox News "Latest Headlines" story for two days...I think those reporters should rest a little, they're obviously working too hard. I've been reading the Jerusalem Post for the last few days, they have much more detailed information about what's going on.

From the Stop Teasing Us Already file, The Juice's latest brush with the law. So today's riddle is, how many trials does it take to convict OJ Simpson?

::: posted by Patricia Rini at 6:25 AM

Would it be possible to start an ongoing story with only one sentence at a time submitted by the members of this blog?
Example: Gilbert Godfreid, Ice T. and Stephen Hawkings were poisoning pigeons in Central Park one sunny afternoon. (Then whomever continues the story from here and so on)
Or joke of the day? Example: Why do gorilla's have big nostrils? (pointing to your nose) Big fingers.
Or riddle of the day, week, what ever? Kevin answered mine a little better than I thought. I was simply looking for "a towel".
I'm new to the Blog thing so if this is truly tacky, I'm sorry. Just a suggestion. Peace

::: posted by Kurt Kistler at 1:57 AM

Monday, December 03, 2001 :::

Also, check this out! (changed the link) Come up with a caption

::: posted by sly squiggle at 3:56 PM

So, yeah, went out with Alura and perused a collection of Hemp products. I realized that just because something is made of hemp doesn't mean anything. Also, doesn't make it cheap. In fact, hemp is quite expensive whether it's a better fabric, oil, skin lotion, candle stick, drug, construction material, philosophy or commerically purchasable item/dildo. I don't know, call me cynical but in this age seemed like smoking yourself into oblivion and smothering hemp seed oil on your body is just as self-absorbed as watching repeats of Seinfeld, buying clothes from the GAP and burying yourself from the mountain of horrible news. Or maybe that's just my way of excusing myself.

::: posted by sly squiggle at 12:30 PM

Kinkynatty boy asked me to blog this for him...seems he's being chased by PR people. In Oct, he blogged about a strange press release he'd gotten regarding a haunted house that was supposed to heighten awareness of child abduction. Last week, having somehow seen his posting, they e-mailed him and me and tried to explain themselves (in almost identical terms as the original release) -- completely missing his point, and not answering his absurd questions at all. So people, beware what you write and mock on the blog, PR people are watching! ;)

Hung out with sly squiggle yesterday (he apologizes for not blogging in quite some time...apparently he, like, works for a living)...he works for Wired, which had this great story a while back on electrically triggering parts of your brain to have religious experiences. I LOVE stuff like that.

My roommate had an enneagram party this weekend. It's a way of labelling you as one of 9 personality types (sample test on that page...although I HATE black and white questions, my attitude is always "but it depends on the situation!!!" Try "new test" if you're curious). My roommates think I'm a 7, the Enthusiast (although the quick test says I'm 4, The Romantic, with a 7 sub-type). According to their really detailed book about it, 7 certainly would seem to suit me and Mr. Seal...but what does this all mean, in the end? Is it like being a Sagittarius? (I'm a Sag with a Sag ascendant, making me, uh, twice as good?bad?) Or better, since you're basically telling a test what you are?

::: posted by Alura Allumeuse at 10:20 AM

Sunday, December 02, 2001 :::

o mi gawd, I yam just ROTFL over this collection of
telephone error messages. Particularly funny is the orgasmic operator in "The number you have reached, 254-0000, is not in service" ha ha ha