Shock and awe

DU Baby # 20 © Dr. Jenan Hassan

Of all the photos of ye olde collections of Depleted Uranium Babies from Afghanistan and Iraq ('unredacted' -- YOU HAVE BEEN SUMMARILY WARNED!), for obvious reasons the above one always 'appealed' to me most.

With even the places of the lumps vaguely corresponding with how I saw them in the mirror, in my mind always could almost feel the tactile sensation of reaching up with my right hand grabbing the huge motherf***ker.

Though any further, my imagination fails me.

I mean, like do they hurt? Do they hurt bad? Is this child still alive today? If yes, how does it spend its time? Does it go out often? Can it go out at all? Does it still hurt physically? Worse than being the laughing stock? Can anyone else imagine how it would be living in its skin and skull at all?

Even worse, compared with other DU Babies, it seems rather 'underdone'. And, as the below chart suggests, in countries where DU had been deployed by tons and tons, today, when a child is born, parents don't ask 'Is it a boy or a girl?', but 'Is it normal?'

© Thomas M. Fasy (download whole presentation as pdf)

Sweet irony, loadsa grunts, incl. their families are getting a gruesome taste themselves as well. Cause of course, just like the local civilians, they weren't told about DU and its 'side' effects either. Though the top brass knew very well, they refused to tell (my suggestion would be you'd start with 'sequence 2', though not the .mov version). Hell yeah, still pays being a full fledged member of Se Master's Race® in more than just one way.

This is such a sick, sick world we're livin' in (though don't guess too many crawlin round here would need a reminder of that), but are we not all just f***king bloody lucky, now aren't we?!

DAMN EVERYONE INVOLVED IN THE DEVELOPMENT AND RESPONSIBLE FOR THE DEPLOYMENT OF THIS UGLY FRIGGIN SH*TE.

AND ALL OF THE MAINSTREAM MEDIA THAT REFUSE TO COVER SUCH 'TOUCHY SUBJECTS' APPROPRIATELY , like on the frontpage, with pictures'n'all.

Same as everyone else who just stood by and didn't care to be bothered ...

Random General Update

Got a new job, but dole bureaucrazy still on my back. Scheduled for presenting my forms next Tue. Lovely!

Recorded stuff for a TV-Show about gore, gore and even more related thangs. Probly Anger n yours truly will do a regular show-within-the show starting Sept. Will even see some cash (or else), but still wont be enough to kiss the dole goodbye.

Got a new book out! And only today managed to upload some advertisement on our own page. SHAME!

Am busy cycling and mostly regularly working out also in the woods, so my lung is slightly better again, but won't hold my breath, not on other poor puns either.

Got a letter from our restless neighbour , again complaining about 'very unpleasant noises' from my bedroom keeping her up 'all night', even though baby and myself stopped doing anything there but literally sleeping since well before midnight. However, her being 'very sensitive' concerning stuff like that'n'all.

Yes, obviously seems so. Of course didn't tell her where to stick it, but that we're actually very considerate because of her, plus mostly only sleep at my place on the weekends just for the same reason, so in case from now on she should still hear anything despite all our again improved efforts, I'd hope for a little tolerance from her side as well, cause going into the woods for it every time after 10 o'clock frankly wouldn't be an option either.

Up to now did the trick. Even strated being less noisy in the early mornings for an amazing timespan now.

Went to some parties. Mostly on the guest list, though my favourite one being where the wannabe copper security nazi did a body search for allegued weapons but failing to detect my two cans. Even did physically reasonably well, though only with PP3 particle filters in front of my face (them afterwards kinda resembling old cig butts, same colour, same smell).

And hey, second but last new moon, was able making out the milky way from our balcony! Only vaguely, but it was definitely there, at least in the direction away from the city. Awesome.

Still haven't done my last semester's paper. Not to mention finished the huge Leppin book. Nor all the hours of the uni job, nor the other book I've got to do there, too, nor zillion other stuff either.

And yes, am afraid I'm still very lazy on the blog ...

Lookey who's back ...

Yes, the backwards, erm, FIT Team, again again, in front o thee rampART.

© indy uk (click for more pics & vid)

Boy, do they look well trained, don't they?

Now they're even allowed in other places, too! Travellin around the country wherever duty calls! To boldly go where no other copper has gone before!

© Tash / indy uk (click for more pics)

And yessir, I do like my officers friendly ... or not at all.

http://fitwatch.blogspot.com

Forward Intelligence spelled out (Pt. 2)

Say Cheese! From uk.indy

Last year I wrote bout how I witnessed the Met's glorious 'Backwards Intelligence Team' (as a.o. the clowns call it) photographing everyone entering or leaving thee rampART in Whitechapel in order to put them on file for terrorist activities (i.e. attending a meeting of a political campaign -- btw. whether they actually attended or not).

Well, guess what? Yesterday, the FIT guys were just back for the umpteenth time, at the very same corner -- just for having their own picture taken, too.

An me bucko, if you'd hide your face and play hard to get like demse brave ones, they'd even take you for a free ride probly ... or something ...

more pics n report

even more FITters'n'maties

and two more verry intelligently looking uns
(found here --> scroll down)

edit: just when you thought it was over ...
(hat tip to johnny void)

... but were wrong ...

... again again (and these are very funny lookin fellers indeed!)

+ new feature on uk.indy

... and even LOTS more!

Corporate Sloppiness Censorship

Ah, the irony. Not sooo long ago, cause of a complaint about 'subversive smere campaigns, especially against the police' and other 'illegal content', no less than The Bavarian County Criminal Department, Interpol Wiesbaden, The Swiss Federal Police Department, The Zurich County Police (Special Division 2), The Zurich District Attorney's Office, they all wanted virtually all of our homepages taken down (plus yours truly held responsible for even more pages he didn't even know about).

However, after a two year legal battle, failed.

Ok, they've been giving us an interesting time, but not once they managed scrapping a single word, link or pic on any of the (rapidly growing) pages, no siree.

Whereas now the 'anti-censorship' dutch Provider xs4all.nl just succeeded no sweat, deleting pages at will and locking us out of our own paid site by changing passwords without notice, not to mention thereafter having the cheek of refusing to give us the new ones. I mean, the company we paid, on our own pages!

Ok, eventually some of our security measures kicked in, and eventually, after announcing them the first entries on the net calling them censors, suddenly was no problem doing what all emails and phonecalls earlier didn't achieve: telling us the passwords straight on the phone at once ('though that's not usual').

Too late, boys. Revenge is petty but sweet. Hope makes at least some small dentures into your hip 'anti censorship' rep from better days.

Ok, I'm well aware, though they might've put a smile on some coppers faces, actually the responsibles-but-not-answerables at xs4all (sold to privatised Dutch telecom KPN rsp. kpnqwest 1998, 2006 buying or original provider demon.nl) probly couldn't care less about the content of the pages they took down.

And yes, they didn't do so on purpose, but by merely being sloppy and arrogant as usual.

But frankly, whatever the intent, effects like the ones in question here still aren't exactly improving my freedom of expression (nor anybody else's, I guess).

And yes, just in case you harbored any doubts, there's still plenty actually intended censorship stuff going on, e.g this incident about a flash-game the vatican didn't find funny. However, at least for the moment, even if God's Local Stromtroopers had succeeded, bet you'd still be able enjoying yourself by playing OPERATION: PEDOPRIEST just in spite? (WARNING: 'Extreme Adult Themes')

Obviously still shows ...

Found this quiz via The Anti-Essentialist Conundrum:

You Are 53% Feminine, 47% Masculine

You are in touch with both your feminine and masculine sides. You're sensitive at the right times, but you don't let your emotions overwhelm you. You're not a eunuch, just the best of both genders.

Are You Masculine or Feminine?

And you know what?

Damn, was I pissed at not being predominantly male!

Despite last post n all.

Really liked the proportion though.

Thankfully, e.g. black boots 'n' trousers (plus cap) seems to fool virtually everybody. Only yesterday, learned a female knowing me only from seeing me selling newspapers in this gayish local pub describing me as 'masculine', colouring me slightly surprised for a sec.

Ok, a long way from probly 90% female for most of my life. Also it's just this quiz which I'm not taking too seriously.

Damn, still just would like having them percentages changed.

Neither pro-feminist nor MRA (Pt. 1)

I identified as a (pro-)feminist for a good part of my life. In Switzerland, where I grew up, in most parts women got the right to vote only in 1971, shortly before my 8th birthday. The last region actually had to be forced to implement it by federal law no earlier than late 1990, almost a decade after non-discrimination on grounds of race, sex, religion (to name but a few) had been written into the constitution in 1981.

So guess the notion women not being treated equally and this not being ok kinda came naturally.

On the other hand, frankly was pretty ill-suited for virtually all of the obligatory he-man-men type stuff anyway, both physically and mentally. My size was at no point above average, and don't get me started on build. Till I began working out at 30, was actually merely skin and bones, to the extent that I'm still glad having grown up before 'anorexic' and 'bulimia' became such buzzwords. (Well, at least no fat either -- before cortisone, that was.)

Also simply failed getting the point. I mean, what's the use, feeling good from making others feel bad? Since I've been a kid, most people always said I've got 'way too misantropic views'. However, always got plenty ideas of activities making me at least much happier than the average 'social' person always in need of putting someone else down first. A concept just beyond me.

Guess I was the perfect victim. Not actually offering the other cheek, but never hitting back. Which kinda results in the same. And of course in getting beaten up or worse every once in a while.

Took me literally decades to realise, plenty people are just cowards, going for people like me for some freebie kicks and punches, and the only way of getting rid of such is looking them straight into the eye, thinking, 'Ok, that's it, go on and I'll hit you as hard as I can.' That's the one funny part about it: Don't even have to say it. And the other: Of course suddenly there isn't any need of actually doing so anymore, but that's another story.

Rather had a knack at skills usually attributed to girls anyway, like languages and other 'soft' disciplines, while definitely not being a star at math and the likes. At seven even learned knitting, out of curiousity, but soon learned better than to talk about it to other boys. (Same as for plenty other things to most people in general, that is, especially 'grown ups'.)

Actually, when it came down to relationships, and there to e.g. adressing emotional issues on both sides, or commitment, mutual responsibilities, and plenty other behaviours usually attributed to women, turned out me being more female than most of my girlfriends.

Of course there were other traits where I'm no exception, on the downside I'm e.g. much, much better at nagging others into sex than keeping up with household chores. (While most of my girlfriends weren't so bad at some also exactly glorious 'female' routines either.)

So, during my twenties digged easily into feminist critique of male behaviour and gender roles in general, and plenty too. Feeling that in a social environment based on equality and without the typical patriarch games, life would definitely be more fun, despite the male priviledges I'd lose.

As said, self-identified as a (pro-)feminist for a good part of my life. Funny enough, took some 'feminists' to eventually change that. And though I still uphold the idea and the notion of making it true, had to realise that what's going down in its name in the real world being quite something else, with which I'd rather not associate myself, nor would want to be associated with either.

(to be continued)

Sevice to be resumed shortly

Oh noes, been down and out blogwise for a while now. Just too much other stuff wanting to be done. Also only went exercising in the woods every forthnight for over a month now. Bad bad bad.

(Though you can be sure baby's keeping me up for certain other 'sportive activities' plenty, and while that might be a reason for not losing more flesh yet, still, as my sore muscles tell me, doesn't really help gaining either I'm afraid.)

However, looks like I got some substantial portions off my neck now. Like having delivered all the monthly dole formularies with my usual grace, having worked up plenty hours on this semester's uni job, kicked off another presentation there, prepared some german webpages for forthcoming updates, and, best of all, yesterday sent the file of our first Paul Leppin book to the printing office, woooo-haaa!!!

Make no mistake, of course that's just the proverbial tip of the iceberg. Like I'm still on the dole and hating it, there's two expositions I've to deliver for the uni in the next 3 months, there's the second Paul Leppin book (a much bigger bastard) I should've finished for years and latest this month (and today's the 31st), there's two more books I'll have to design and execute for the Institute of Popular Cultures (for these I'll even get paid, imagine), got loadsa folks breathing down my neck when we'll be putting out the next volume SUN KOH (those not yet talking about 'if', that is), and so on.

Still, though sometimes inbetween seems necessary, working too many hours while neglecting too much other stuff won't do it in the long run, no sir.

Spot the difference?

..........................Tages Anzeiger, 25 August '05 © Beat Marti

.....................Murnauer Tagblatt, 8 May '07, © Roland Lory

No, it's not the presence of Helmut K. Schmidt on the 2nd pic.
Nor the different locations. And no, not the wardrobe either.

Not at all.

Negative is positive

Teeheehee -- well, at least everytime it comes down to an HIV-test, that is. And am I not happy in the last years technology advanced as much as that now you can get the results in less than 24 hrs without extra charge?

Funny, still the same guy on the phone delivering the results. Though I'd bet this time he had way less hard news to break. You can tell by the way he does this little break when saying, 'The result is ... negative.' Last time the intermission was just a wee bit longer, and you could clearly hear that he was kinda happy too, not having to tell me else. So I remember thinking like uh-huh, sounds like lotsa bad news today.

Baby was even faster getting the results than me. Less than two minutes after the hotline opened and she'd already sent me the good news by txt. While silly me had to get the number from the net again first, since by accident I put the paper together with the trousers into the washing machine today.

At least no problem remembering the code word, haha. Sometimes folks at the hospital indeed do show some sense of humour. Like they'd seen us arriving there together, and when we went each with somebody for the preliminary quiz, gave me the codeword 'eel', while she got 'zone'. Hawhawhaw.

However, you can bet we'll be doing plenty of eel'n'zone jokes for quite a while ...

(to be continued ...)

Bad karma & just plain stoopid

Guess we all heard bout safer sex for quite a while now, don't we? All agreed?

Or at least that's what I'd like to think myself. Which is why I'm sometimes a wee bit confused when again having to remove some girl's head from my private parts in bed, explaining why. Not to mention then hearing things along the lines of, 'Oh, really?' (Which in my experience usually includes even the ones used to taking a bit more responability in bed that the average lot, but that's another story.)

Something I'm in all modesty slowly getting kinda familiar with. Until very recently, that is. Not that the situation had been different for a start, I'm afraid. Only insofar that I just didn't.

Man of principles, hawhaw. Not even a special excuse or anything. Actually I'd be in trouble only explaining why instead of merely processing the fact.

Bad karma in my book, both. Even worse, didn't take too may days and I also engaged unsafely in other stuff just so as well. Something I've never done before in my whole life! And despite this time at least there's something like a minor cheap excuse, in the end still boils down to lack of wits and patience, but again, still no real reason. And there I was, thinking people becoming more calm and mature when getting older. Colour me double-perplexed and very ashamed of myself. Not to mention havin been just plain stoopid, again.

Okokok, we both had more or less valid reasons to assume we're probly both still negative. (Not to mention then we didn't do what's considered the classical high risk sexual practice yet.) However, imho there's some things in life when even 99% just isn't enough, and guess what's being the prime example, hm?

So high time coughing up the dosh and going for another test plus negotiating the usual minimal guidelines (a.k.a. if you'd ever do something unsafe with somebody else at least tell me before doing so again with me, which I promise you too).

If we actually find the time going to the test at the required hours, not to mention the results being still in favour of any such things, that is ...

Not that I'm really nervous, but ... still would be better being 100% sure already, now wouldn't it?

(continued ...)

Murnau

Just after hearing local parliament having given the green light for doing this exhibition about author Paul Alfred Müller (german bio) at Schlossmuseum in Murnau, the Bavarian town where he'd lived from 1948 till he died, driving back exactly there for another book presentation @ Antiquariat Hannak, again together with Müllers fellow local scribe Helmut K. Schmid. (Like the famous german expressionist filmmaker of the 20ies, PAM also once adopted Murnau as nom de plume.)

Nearly no actual audience (i.e. people not involved in any of the projects) turning up, and absolutely no turnout financial wise. And for that alla the preparations, not to mention getting up before 8 after almost no sleep ...

However, taped the conversation with H. K. Schmidt, and -- tadaaa -- also got this nice review in Murnauer Tagblatt, which eventually made it all quite worthwile.

Cause besides the pulp scifi stuff we're doing already, both he and P. A. Müller also wrote yet-unpublished nice regular novels with a local touch, but until now we never got an angle getting through to that kinda audience. So the first article in a local newspaper and the exhib coming up in a place were also plenty tourists show up is something to be celebrated.

Which later at night I indeed did. Well, erm, kind of. Together with with a certain kinky babe, to be a wee bit more precise. Though not that I'd let you in on the details here ...

But instead urge all local lurkers to check out this lovely early sixties pulp novel by Schmidt called Hellbreed.

H. K. Schmidt and fan with signed portrait in our PAM-Bio
@ Antiquariat Sammelpunkt Zurich, 25.11.06
© Ingrid Tomkowiak

Keeping the neighbours awake

Ah, reckon this was just bound to happen sooner or later. Neighbours complaining bout this baby and me having too much fun, that is. Not to mention too long and way too often, too!

Surprisingly enough not the neighbours I had suspected most, but the single mom from the apt. below ours. Nonetheless strictly by the book. I.e. first banging at the wall from below in the still of night, probly waking up everybody a few floors in both directions. Then the next day ringing while my mate still sleeping, complaining 'I didn't get a wink of sleep for two days now.'

Actually the night before Baby and me had been practicing the explicitly romantic variety, contrary to like three nights ago, probly having been he loudest while staying in my apt., but nevermind. And just for the record, even then, though we weren't gagged nor stifling ourselves, weren't actually loud either.

Definitely quieter than them regularly banging up the roller blinds plus stampeding through the apt. and slamming doors when they're late and in a hurry getting off in the mornings. Both things I'd stopped counting how many times they woke me up a long time ago (not to mention even the old lady from above asking them to be a bit more considerate about in vain since way we moved in anyways).

And though this baby and me definitely not being into the 3-minutes way of things clocked from foreplay to falling asleep, during the relevant timeframe 'all night' was still be a wee bit exaggerated too, 'mafraid.

Tellingly she also didn't mention us waking her up, but just her being unable to sleep.

Now despite the house itself, contrary to the doors inside the apts., being built quite solid, I'm aware, if you listen closely, you'll be able hearing it no doubt. Just like loads of other noises, incl. stereos, tvs, kitchens, bathrooms, and also planes and cars outside.

Which is why my educated guess would be the problem being probly more the nature of the sounds than the actual volume.

Or, after I had apologised politely, declaring it hadn't been our intent to cause her discomfort (even true), as Baby put it with an innocent smile, 'Perhaps she'd need 3 earplugs: 2 for up and one for below.'

(continued ...)

Farewell to the beauty farm

Last appointment. Mop up shots. Surgeon was pleased with the scar development. Me too. Meant it, when I thanked him and the assistant.

Though it's still pretty funny touching the scars and especially grafts myself, somebody else touching them does feel nice. Also with regards to the synaestesia thingie with the one on top, feels like being thouched at other parts, too.

Anyways, am glad having them tumors off. Especially cause they just would've kept growing, I reckon.

As to the looks, yeah, well ...

Guess if I really strictly want going unnoticed, would be even more difficult covereing everything with a cap now. But what the f**k.

Funny, how actually it's still a bit like with the lumpies, though fairly more moderate. Especially from my point of view, i.e mankinds immediate reactions mostly beyond my ken. Filtered out automatically, no effort needed. Sweet denial.

Sweet irony as well, since I always got the impressions everybody more troubled about them than yours truly, actually mostly giving in to social pressure.

Peace-offering to all humankind, blablabla. Sorry didn't work out as nicely as it should've.

However, ahem, not exactly my fault really. Neither if you're still offended. Official license, now. Not guilty. Sorry.

Hehehe.

And yeah, though I could go for more surgery to make the freaky parts smaller, will just leave 'em as they are, thanks.

Surgeon was nice, also asked about the scar on the hand. The b*stard one, still handing out electric jolts, that is.

Himself he'd fared even less lucky. Fallen from from a horse, back broken. Though definitly lucky enough so the spinal chord remained unharmed. Still has to go wear a corset for half a year, since he's got no assurance for sickness daily allowance, as he said.

Copied me the whole folder with all my pix, also some I hadn't had before, so brace for an update at some point.

So, after 11 months in 'n' out, looks like I just left the beauty farm for good. Walking towards the bus stop, hit the air with both fists and turned the phones a bit louder than usual.

'No, *I* can't!' a.k.a. Help! Pt. 3

This is really cool:



'The Peak Load of Masculine Pride', from the Dave Allen Show. G'wan, click 'play'.

B.t.w. saw it first over at Pook's Mill. And though I appreciate plenty of his writings, reckon this time for whatever reasons he about just absolutely totally missed the point ...

(continued ...)

Ha! (Pt. 2)

Missed Part 1? You'll miss the context!

As it went, had second thoughts on the gratification issue soon enough. Cause, while winning any 'competition' might be kinda gratifying, obviously there's where I'd actually prefer being on the losing end. Like for, erm, obvious reasons this one, for example.

Since as mentioned, in average I'm rather used finding myself winning and definitetly not liking it at all, oh no. So didn't take too long me remembering that part painfully well, pondering if this'd be the beginning of 'back to normal'. Which, surprise, surprise, would've regretted big time.

But some things just seem to be too good to be true. And then soon enough there's this thought creeping up from the back of my mind, like, 'Sh*t, am I going to wake up pretty soon now, or yes?'

Which is just the kinda creepy stuff dedicated to turn any feeling of gratification from sweet to very sour in no time.

Cause any time I'm with a girl uninhibited enough of shamelessly making advantage of the gift of the female body and mind, it's just so cool. Like tapping into a delicious sweet well, feeling safe in the knowledge of no matter how much you can swallow, you'll never be able drying it up, no way. (And I also mean that quite literally.)

Ah, paradise and cockaigne all rolled into one, guys, I can tell.

Until she tires faster than me just once, obviously.

Dark clouds and thoughts threatening at the horizon, uh-oh.

Though didn't take her too long to teach me a lesson, not to mention restoring my faith in the seemingly unlimited female sexual supremacy.

I yield! I yield! MERCY!!!



PS: However, only last night, way into the wee hours, guess what?

Eventually heard her gasp 'no more', pulling my hand away again again ...

Ha!


(continued ...)

Mit Dir bin ich auch allein

Funny, how entering a new relationship tends bringing back memories of old ones. And how songs and especially lyrics can trigger memories, too.

Recently been listening to a lot of Rammstein, actually just got all their studio albums 2nd hand only yesterday. And while being into them mostly for the 'kick-ass factor' and the assorted sheer kinkiness, thus deploring how almost every record gets a wee bit to way wimpier than the one before, have to admit there's this uberwimpy song called 'Ohne Dich' (Without You) that touched me more than any other during the last few months.

While all Rammstein songs have this certain ambiguity (which they so shamelessly lifted from the truly underrated Slowenian band Laibach, amongst plenty other things), applying this technique so intelligently to a seemingly simple heartbreak-lovesong still is something else.

Especially four lines of the chorus really hit it home for me:


Ohne Dich kann ich nicht sein
Mit Dir bin ich auch allein

Ohne Dich zähl ich die Stunden, ohne Dich
Mit Dir stehen die Sekunden, lohnen nicht

(Without you I cannot be
With you I am alone too

Without you I count the hours, without you
With you the seconds stand still, aren't worth it)


Damn, that's a good part of my last relationship summed up in just a few brilliant words. (Which reminds me, some other parts on the downside having been lies, lies, lies, plus cheap 'n' weak excuses, but that's another story.)

While I'm usually listening to whole albums looped (ok, skipping some songs), have to admit 'Ohne Dich' is the one exception lately of me listening to the same song allover again for a while.

But yesterday was a crazy day anyway. Had this presentation to do early at the uni, and yup, as usually leaving everything just for the very last second, enjoying the adrenaline rush to the max. Only that while I was just about getting started preparing everything the evening before, my mate and some other folks more or less gently reminded me we'd also have to do the overdue press kit for our upcoming book presentation in Murnau Sat next week. And while I kinda had hoped I would be more or less spared of that, absolutely no way, not with this deadline. Just had to drop the preparation and cough up some of the other stuff beforehand, so that my mate could get the mailings out.

Took me till 3 am that I finally could get started preparing the handout, which I eventually finished about 6. Still hadn't read all of the stuff I was supposed to, but what the f**k, just would have to cheat myself along the essential parts. At least would be able catching up almost 3 hours of sleep before rushing out, in order to not looking too wasted. If not the shitty air lately had roughed up my nose, that is, feeling even more uncomfy as soon as I laid down. But who needs sleep anyway.

Not to mention emotional stability. Was in the tram uphill to the uni when the mentioned above lines really hit home. Tears running down my cheeks, sunglasses fogging up, the whole shebang. 15 plus minutes to go till my presentation.

However, was the first time in a while I was able crying not just for others, but really for myself, which made me just happy. Though while washing my head in the toilet before hurrying upstairs to the classroom, was a bit worried still might be just a little too obvious. But you know what? Everything went down just really cool, and nobody noticed either.

And though I was really knackered, especially after the 2nd course in the afternoon, don't get me started on what I was up to later in the evening plus half of the night ...

(To be continued ...)

Ladies, I feel for you

Actually just wanted to go to sleep. Which was why I turned off the lights before hitting the sack. But did I have any chance of just doing so? Hell, no.

Well, erm, depending on how you'd define it, perhaps sort of. But in the meaning as I had intended? No way. Not with this baby lurking under the blanket. Not the slightest chance in the world.

Despite the fact that I was still pretty worn from not so long ago. But did she care? Well, again depends on how you'd actually define that. Lets just say, by a certain definition I've to admit she actually managed succeeded doing so, erm, exhaustively.

And by far wasn't the first time that happened, too. Oh no. Nor will it probly be the last. Kinda the perfect gender role reversal.

Though, with regards to probly not the last time, I'll hasten to add, well, hopefully not!

Which is where the gender reversal analogy abruptly ends, 'mafraid.

(continued ...)

Just can't put my finger on what exactly

After showering, looking at my face in the mirror, examining how badly my hair needed cutting yet, suddenly got caught by something ... something I'd have to consider too ... but I just couldn't put my finger on.

Something that'd been perhaps, but what exactly again?

And despite the clue being perfectly visible on my forehead all the time, i.e. the scars and the graft there, took me an incredible while to finally get it.

The lumpies! Just like I already had kinda totally forgotten I ever had them!

Only remembering vaguely that there'd always been an additional effort cutting the rest of my hair around them, something I usually had to ask my mate to do.

Well, not anymore. Also not putting my finger on any of them literally, haha!

And you know what? Body fascist or not, no remorse. Not at all.

Pigs Galore UPDATE

Missed the original entry?

Halif just got his sentence in the mail, obviously posted on the glorious occasion of the fuehrers birthday:

6 months and 20 days, on parole for 2 years (out of the 9 months the DA wanted).

Despite the judge having acquitted him of 6 of the 12 original charges.

So far so predictable.

The only exception being that obviously it finally sunk in there's no money to get from him, so there was no additional fine, and even the two thirds of the 3000.-- costs for the trial he got nominally portioned got written off at once.

Whoa, must've been her generous day. Or something.