29? AGAIN?

Received this yesterday from AN:

My Wordle

Copying Joe Shlabotnik, I've created a "wordle." Rather than take the time to write my own description, here's Joe's:

Okay, this is cool. Enter your LiveJournal URL (or any blog URL, or any text) into Wordle and it'll create a "word cloud". That is, an image of the most commonly used words, where the larger the font, the more often the word is used. The colors, fonts, and orientation are infinitely customizable, too.

Mine's a little fuzzy here. But the largest words (which I apparently use the most, or most recently) are: "Much", "Booth", "Perfume", "Friends", "Birthday".

I was surprised to see that "men" and "sex" were in much smaller fonts.

Hmmm.

Happy Birthday To Me!

Today is my birthday.

It's a little ridiculous how much I enjoy my birthday.

Festivities should last approximately two weeks, I've decided. Although, I suppose it all depends on how long I can milk the good will of my friends and family.

Birthday festivities will be launched this evening. No doubt, there will be embarrassing pictures posted in various public forums.

Important Things

Email received from AM today:

"I'm heading up north in the morning for work for a couple of days, so will call you from the road. Sex -- what is that and how can I get me some?? Now that I'm done with the apt search, I can focus on the important things, like whoring. May decorate my new place in 'bordello' style and charge at the door..."

That's my girl.

Where Do You Keep Your List?

According to one designer, you should keep your list on a pillowcase. THIS pillowcase, aptly named the "Everyone I've Slept With" pillowcase.



Hand your new "friend" a sharpie, and you are good to go.

But those of us who have not yet dropped $50 to own this piece of bedding ourselves, where do we keep our lists? That was a question posed by the girls as we discussed the pros and cons of displaying such an item on our beds.

In journals? In your calendar? Frequently scribbled on the backs of cocktail napkins?

But then the conversation shifted... do you REMEMBER all the names?

And what's worse? Remembering the person, but not his name? Or remembering the name and nothing about the person?

What's more important? "A rose by any other name..." And yet names do seem to matter.

What would be more important to YOU? For someone to remember your name, or instead, the color of your hair, the smell of your perfume?

Hmmm... off to scribble my list on the back of a napkin.

'Tis A Gift To Be Simple

What does one listen to on a lazy Sunday morning? RL is listening to heavy metal, to drown out the 80s classic rock favored by her roommate. I am listening to Histoire Du Tango - Café 1930, a duet for classical guitar and violin, composed by Astor Piazzolla.

IC, who is more of a classical music purist than I am, pronounced it "pretty" and a bit "showtune." I understand why she says that... some passages are... well... over accessible. Which I suppose is code for "showtune." But hey, I LIKE showtunes.

When I have time, I'm going to continue my classical guitar lessons. Because this is my dream: to play this piece. IC (who studied violin during music school) has reluctantly told me that she will play the violin part if I can't find anyone else to do it.

It reminds me less of showtunes than it does IC. And yet I agree with IC, it's not purely classical. Actually, it reminds me of the movie music written by Ennio Morricone. No one can doubt Morricone's mastery and genius. But his is definitely music that is written to be evocative of images. Perhaps I'm biased by the fact that I always hear his pieces accompanied by a movie. But I think it's more than that. His pacing and phrasing is not always what you'd expect to hear in music that is meant to be consumed with your eyes closed. He is clearly following a different pattern; he's clearly following, clearly anticipating, some other action than that internally driven by the structure of the music itself. And so it's inevitable that the images that come to mind are not the secret stories you tell yourself when listening to a piece of music, but the images carefully orchestrated by others.

Yes, the classical music purist in me can't help but be dismissive of that. But the bigger part of me simply enjoys that it is so pretty.

Guy's Night Out Debrief

Martinis, Cigars, Cuban Sandwiches: all happy things.

WC had her first cigar ever - a Havana Honey, tasting strongly of vanilla. She asked me to start it for her, and spent the evening holding it uncertainly. Her cigar kept going out, so we informed her she had to suck harder.

At one point, she was convinced that it was out. I reassured her it wasn't.

"Can you tell because you can see it light up at the tip?" she asked me.

"No, the give-away is the fact that I can't see your face behind the cloud of smoke you are exhaling," I replied.

At the end of the evening we were drunk, bloated from too much food, and dizzy from cigar smoke.

Is this what boys do when they are together? We mused about that for a while. It seemed rather... boring. So then we thought that perhaps we were missing something and tried to figure out what that was. WC turned to me and asked, "want me to buy you a lap dance?"

Was that the missing ingredient?

Drunk Wisdom

Well into our second bottle of wine, WC whipped this out and laid it on the table:

Without pain, there is no joy. If you remove the pain, neutral becomes the pain. It is true. I am profound in my drunkenness.

Why Women Never Have Any Change

Guys Night Out

Girls Night In has turned into Guys Night Out.

The Girls will slip into our favorite over-priced heels and head over to Club Macanudo for an evening of steak, scotch, and cigars.

I must remember to stop by the sports equipment store for some ping pong balls so we can play with our balls during the evening.