Effluvia

A nice analysis of the Bush presidency so far.

Bad wrestling. Really bad wrestling.

A lovely day with mother.

The eToaster.

In this story, Salon seems to be both condemning incest and using the opportunity to revel in the details of child sexual abuse. Or the writer is, anyway. Queasy-making.

Sex laws.

Journal Roulette

Clump - Looking for an apartment in Boston.

Siobhanorama!

Back from the West Coast and in touch with her emotions.

The Old Guys
At The Gym
Ain't Cool Dep't.

Whoa there, grandpa! If you're going to bend over in the locker room you really need to put some pants on.

Two Years Ago
The maxi-pants question.

One Year Ago
I mess with the bull.

"Surveying the mullets before me, the welders and the pipe fitters and the truck drivers, their girlfriends and their girlfirends' friends, I flash back to a photo of me and my family when I was about 15 years old. I'm in the back, taller than my mom, dad and sister. I'm wearing fluorescent orange shorts and a purple and green Hawaiian shirt. And there's my hair. My hair was exactly like the hair at this concert. These good people are wearing my mullet: business in the front, party in the back.

"I can kind of laugh at the haircut now, but the bare truth of it is that I feel safer around these people than I ever have or ever will in a room full of guys in khakis and polo shirts. These people never gave up. When the lights came up and the arena emptied, they didn't file out. They waited patiently for an encore five years later.

"Me? I cut my hair."

- from My butt rock epiphany by Brian Byrne

This article could have been written about me, people. It's wonderful.

From wrestlingobserver.com:

"AAA at its TV taping on Thursday has La Parka Jr. & Polvo de Estrellas (transvestite) teaming with Mini Octagoncito and woman Alda Moreno against Abismo Negro and Pimpinela Esclarata (transvestite) & Rocky Marvin (mini) & Tiffany (woman)."

Transvestites? Midgets? Fighting each other? What channel does that come on?

The ranking secretary at work has been sending increasingly nasty e-mails for the past few months, badgering me and my fellow employees to clean the refrigerator. Nothing happened. So last week she announced the fridge would be cleaned today after lunch and would some people like to volunteer, please?

I happened to walk by the kitchen while the cleaning was going on. Four female employees were in there, scrubbing away. I wondered, for a moment, why no men had volunteered to clean the refrigerator.

The answer came immediately: no man has ever seen a refrigerator so dirty he cannot put his lunch in it. It's true. I mean, your lunch is in a bag, right? It's not like you're just going to sit it on the shelf unwrapped, are you?

To me, it didn't seem like that big a deal. I certainly didn't understand why volunteers were necessary. Throw everything in the refrigerator away. The stuff on the bottom will eventually harden and quit stinking. Problem solved. I could have had that fridge clean in five minutes.

But they wanted to scrub it. Oh. They meant clean clean, and not just guy clean.

So I, um, wear the long briefs, right? You know the kind, the underwear with legs. They fit snugly, giving comfort and support to the wearer.

I've found these underwear to be much better for running than regular briefs, say, or boxers or (God forbid) going without. The elastic at the bottom of the legs keeps everything nicely in place.

But not yesterday! Seems the elastic around my right leg had given out in the underwear I had on. I realized as soon as I was done running that I had been brutally chafed. So I lifted weights today, instead. I thought I did pretty well, too, not overexerting myself or anything, until I got in the shower and found I couldn't lift my arms above my head.

I may be a little sore tomorrow.