goddesscafe

Why we love the British
(From the New York Times)
In England, the pubs have been granted early-morning opening privileges so that the World Cup can be enjoyed with a stout pint or two. The British have been consumed for two months with the condition of the team captain, David Beckham, who is recovering from a broken bone in his left foot. He is now expected to play in the opener against Sweden. So engulfed was the country in his recovery, fans were asked to place their healing hands on a photograph of Beckham's foot that appeared on the cover of a tabloid newspaper.

"Thank God it wasn't a groin injury," mused Terry Venables, the former national team coach.

::: posted by Laurent Castellucci at 7:34 AM

Thursday, May 30, 2002 :::

Thanks Rogue! I'm not sure what to make of that first part then. I guess I should presume it is an endearment. I should probably stop flirting with people prone to send me messages in languages I don't understand. (But then, I also know I should stop flirting with redheads in opera gloves, and that doesn't stop me, so what can I do?)

Stolen directly from Cursor: The director of the ACLU responds to the government's easing of limits on domestic spying: "It seems when the FBI fails, the response by the Bush administration is to give the bureau new powers, as opposed to seriously look at why the intelligence and law enforcement failures occurred."

As long as so many of us are unemployed during the downturn, lets look at the supposed boom we just left and what it really did. The writer seems interesting.

Did we become civilized because we cook?

::: posted by Laurent Castellucci at 8:46 PM

Ceau - informal - Ciao...

Te Sarute - you had right... I kiss you.

::: posted by Rogue Designer at 3:45 PM

I still have this book on how to avoid hell. It was given to me long ago.

Only have a sec, but can anyone translate Romanian for me? Ceau mie iubito. Te sarute.
(I think it means "Ciao my lovely. I kiss you." but I'm not sure.)

::: posted by Laurent Castellucci at 10:17 AM

Speaking of Satan, I found a book laying on the street the other day about Satan's influence on Christian rock music. I wish I had it here to quote from, but it has to do with rhythms and beats being inherently pagan and sensual, and contrary to any religious message. So Creed, you'd better just retire now, or go back to a hymnal, lest Beelzebubba keeps you in his claws.

And don't you wish your obituary will be half as exciting as the Earl of Kimberly's?

Story about a French author (a bad author, if you ask me. Erica made me read "The Elementary Particles" and I found it boring, bleak, and nonsensical) who's on trial for inciting racial hatred because he criticized Islam. The reporter calls it a modern-day blasphemy trial.

This week's Weekly World News cover: Baby born with antlers! "He's a little dear," says mom.

Last night we learned in video class that one can HEAR LIGHT. Synaesthesia? No, it's when an image is sooo bright that the digital information for it leaks onto the audio track, making it pop and buzz a little.

And you thought advertising didn't work*. And speaking of subliminal messages, how about this fashion layout of the U.S. soccer team? Homoeroticism, anyone? Ooh, yeah.

::: posted by alura allumeuse at 9:44 AM

the electronic freedom foundation is doing cartoons now, huh.

i wish i could find an online version of this kerrang interview i read with ronnie james dio (former black sabbath singer), in which he's furious about the misappropriation of the devil-sign hand gesture by pop and rock audiences who claim no association with Satan himself. HA.

::: posted by kevin seal at 8:43 AM

Wednesday, May 29, 2002 :::

Laura forced me to blog this:

I have decided to unite the Jumbo Shrimp and pygmy hippos under the non-heirarchical leadership of pacific generals to create a utopian spiritually secular world: I will call them the Erudite Oxymorons!!

::: posted by Rodrigo Diaz at 11:46 AM

Go build some funk, y'all. And I've found a new computer for my roommate. And some cgi scripting fun. (et, pour les Phoques)

I don't get the whole ass thing. It's all about the face. As long as everything else ain't too bony or flabby it's fine. Well, a vienna sausage ain't fine, but you get my point. And I agree that a boring job would lead to an early death. Hence I'm trying to propel myself into an actual creative career. I can't imagine years more of this crap. And here's more on the general nuclear threat.

Tuesday, May 28, 2002 :::

Yes, we Canucks are known for our fine asses, however we seem not to like sex in public. Neither of which has anything to do with our Quebec government being against decriminalizing prostitution.

I'm not surprised that the ass thing is from Toronto, they'll market anything, anytime. Meanwhile, here in Montreal we are preparing for an invasion. So what makes a nice ass anyway? Especially for a guy. I don't get to see mine, but have had enough women define it as "cute" to accept their verdict. But what, pray tell, are the criteria? Anyone?

Speaking of the advancement of science this was everywhere in the news for the last few days. They've barely got preliminary results! Pure marketing.

I just heard this: "So this morning at 22nd and Mission there was an accident that quickly escalated into a fist fight that ended with five people being shot. I believe the intersection is still closed." Wow. Was anyone in the Mission this morning?

::: posted by kevin seal at 4:30 PM

Laurent, glad to see that you Canucks are interested in the advancement of science. But that will make you boys miss out on the cleavage aspect, obviously. (Cue soundtrack to "Baby Got Back," which the DJ played* two versions of at Karen's party) (a celebration which, while full of bbq food, did not feature Arafat chips)

Your requisite Flash randomness for the day. I liked this one. Pop. Pop. Pop. Wheeeeee!

::: posted by alura allumeuse at 1:02 PM

the geekiest band ever: the TI-82s.

::: posted by kevin seal at 12:19 PM

Sunday, May 26, 2002 :::

...and file this one under self-deprecation. This afternoon was my bellydancing classmate Karen's (or rather, ex-classmate...I had to drop out of class for the duration of MediaLink) graduation party, and she asked me and another girl to improv to one song with her leading. We have NEVER performed for anyone, and we always have a mirror in front of us. Yet I foolishly agreed, and she lent me a choli that didn't fit her, and black pantaloons. So we danced, and I didn't think we looked half-bad, and our teacher was there, and so proud of us...and then I got inside and noticed that the ill-fitting choli had crept halfway up my boobs. AAAAHHHH!!! So everyone got a little unintentional show. Frederique, ever so classy, said "Well, it's not like there was any areola!" Cripes. :) Humiliation galore. But everyone told us how beautiful and wonderful we were anyway.