Monthly Archives: November 2008

Saturday Fashions Part 3… Wildcat, Rowr…

When I purchased this soft brown shirt at the Hole in the Wall, it was a minute to six. That minute was all the Black Friday left for the Hole in the Wall to be open. After that minute, as if in a Guillermo del Toro film, the Hole in the Wall would close up (a red eyeball in a living brick wall?) Yet even with just that itty bit of purchasing potential left, the Cashier Lady still took the time to touch the faux-suede, and comment on its viscosity:

“You know all the girls are going to want to touch you!” was what the Cashier Lady said in that minute. She said this with great enthusiasm, her hands in fact on the faux-suede as the words came out of her mouth. In that moment, I definitely felt as if she wanted to touch me, and the thought made me uncomfortable, and I thought to myself, “How comfortable am I anyway when the only Black Friday shopping I do is at thrift stores… ???”

“If you touch me, I’ll kill you,” was not what I said to the Cashier Lady, but I do remember making an awkward moan. The shirt is made of a brown blend of polyester and spandex, and yes, its very touchable. Keep your meat-hooks off.

This fine used shirt is brown spandex and polyester

Im embarressed that my mouth ever looks like this

Freddy Krueger

This is a blue striped shirt reminiscent of Freddy Krueger back in his nightmare days:

Freddy Krueger meets Freddy Mercury

I bought it at Target for $14. Speaking of nightmares, how about those pants. C-bear told me that in the last pic I look like I have gargantuan saddle-bags. Earlier, Lady C scolded me for not ironing these deep navy pleated khaki’s. Clearly, I am going to have to work harder for truly fabulous Saturday fashions.

The man in the iron mask meets the man in the unironed pants

World of Goo

Getting the band back together

For the past twenty four to thirty six hours I have been immersed in learning about science. Sometimes these free-form research jags come on and for a couple of days I am super-intense about looking up certain subjects. Most recent on my mind have been octopodes, (otherwise known as octopi, or octopods) because I read that their third arms are the ones they used to fertilize with. They call these arms the hectocotylus.

Octopus, it turns out, are interesting beyond their sexual association with the name of my blog. These cephalopods have big brains, too. In fact, a certain kind, the “Mimic Octopus,” orients its body and tentacles, and changes the color and texture of its skin, in order to pretend that its actually a plant or different kind of fish or even a poisonous sea snake. Its not playing, however. The ability to hide from predators in this fashion is life or death for the octopus.

The sifting for nuggets of octopi knowledge lead me towards several documentary channels: BBC and PBS. On the BBC, people talked with British accents about how remarkable it was that an octopus put into an aquarium tank with a shark, killed and ate the shark. PBS was a bit tougher to use in my quest, but overnight I was able to bittorrent an HD episode of Nova called, “Cuttlefish, the Kings of Camouflage.” These little creatures are just like their cousins, squid and octopus, except a little bit weirder.

For example, in the Nova documentary the fact gets mentioned that some cuttlefish in Australia are able to cross-dress their way to procreation. While the big males fight it out by wrestling with their tentacles, the smaller male cuttlefish curl their tentacles up under themselves and pretend to be females. The crossdressing cuttlefish swims right by the aggressive males unnoticed and fertilize the females. The females will mate with many male cuttlefish and will store deposits of different daddies’ sperm up under their arms, then they actually get to choose which packet to fertilize themselves with. Paternity results revealed the fathers were crossdressing cuttlefish 70% of the time!

Maybe thats the best way for me to have kids someday. First I can start cross-dressing, then I will have to use my dress and skirt wearing to fertilize a female? No… the fertilize the female part is a deal breaker. But the dresses and skorts and heels sound fun! (Well, maybe not heels…) Beyond the science, the other big news for me is that a couple of my closest friends, E and C, have moved back to the ‘Bridge! These are the folks who have given me this forum, my blog, the third of my eight tentacles, to spread my seed on the internet, to whom I will always be grateful and for whom I have much love and respect. Welcome back!

C Bear says... Guess who's coming to dinner?! E and Me play the Wii

Saturday Fashions 1: The Lithuanian Lumberjack Look

For the first time on 3rdarm.biz, I am going to start offering a once-a-week peek into what fashions I am wearing on Saturdays for when I hostess. Although its certainly not the first time I’ve used my blog to give glimpses into what I happen to be wearing, it will be the first recurring, themed post I’ve ever attempted. Here is the first week’s look, plaid-on-plaid, which I have dubbed, “The Lithuanian Lumberjack.”

My aunt bought me the second layer and the top layer is from Goodwill

Please feel free to give me advice or criticism in your Comments, dearies.

The top plaid is quilted while the bottom plaid is wool

Neon Jungle Man

Wow, after getting cut from work my whole evening got swallowed up making new images for the East Coast Grill website. My friend The Future told me today that he was making a team emblem for his clan (noobish translation: created his internet team of videogame friends a banner)… and I inadvertently ended up with this possibility. By the way, the name of my single-player clan is Cub Force 1.

Here is a rough synopsis of my journey from the raw neons I began with to the rough n’ ready header that is finally up at the East Coast Grill website… 5 hours!

Its a neon jungle man

Finding the right blue for the background and beginning to think about scale

The Goldilocks of strange its just right

Bizcuits N Gravy

Sunday was the Lord’s Last Latin Brunch and he spoiled the staff with a bountiful breakfast of biscuits and gravy. Fluffy buttermilk biscuits and white (“trash”) gravy topped with runny eggs, the best I’ve ever had. The meal was not only fantastically tasty, but also powered me up so righteously that I felt mighty mighty all the way until my afternoon nap. One of our best regulars was my first customer Sunday morning; he told me he’d read here on my blog about the tears the week’s historic import had squeezed from my regularly dry (and red) eyes…

And I realized that maybe the best gift I could give to the Lord was some tears of his own. So to each regular customer I pointed out that the menu that day included the word, “Last.” When they inevitably asked why the Lord was leaving I deferred a straight answer and instead instructed them to make a pilgrimage to see the Lord themselves. Most understood that they’d been “seeing” the Lord regularly with the eyes of their stomach, every time they ate brunch at the East Coast Grill, and now took the opportunity and approached him with the simple but profound words… “Thank you.”

And so it was, as grateful patrons young and old each gave back those two words, in exchange for almost a decade of long hours and little sleep, that one of the most feared and respected and loved chefs in the city, discovered that his own eyes also leak.

The gravy train the table of wonders our breakfast on Sunday

Brian for once not cracking wise at the brunch briefing

The Lord in a holy pose addresses the staff before the Lords Last Latin Brunch

The menu commemorates the date and the deliciousness on the plate does too

The Captain sips his hundreth coffee of the morning and the day is young

96 Tears

Subway to the future, courtesy of Robert J Bolesta

This week I have cried twice. Not just a tear running down the cheek either; full-blown affairs. The first time was the day before the election, when Eliot sent me a message saying that Obama’s grandmother passed away. Just the thought of her holding onto life, with all her might, through all the pain, in order to not mess up her grandson’s historic campaign, and then to expire with just one day left… it was too much for me and I started crying.

The crying was good, I’m here to report. For the first time in what felt like years (note the “felt like,” I’m well aware that a snarky comment is forthcoming about how I cry on a dime) I didn’t try and stop myself and just let it out. It wasn’t just Obama’s grandmother I was thinking of; I was also thinking of my own, and how much she has done for me.

The second time I cried was listening to Colin Powell on CNN, after Obama won, talking about the inclusiveness of Obama’s campaign and how America’s acceptance of him as the first black president was part and parcel of that. Its hard to put into words, but Michelle Obama’s comment about, “for the first time in my adult life… really feeling proud of my country,” come to mind. I’m proud of myself for getting my shit together, and I’m proud of America for doing the same.

I had some friends in the basement for election night:

Kohcaptain my cocaptain with her supersharp imac

The Future on the megamecha desktop

David Broder Answers My Question

No idea about all this garbage

One more day and the long election of 2008 is over and done. As the sun comes up over the continent of North America the winner will also be illuminated. Planning to use my 3rd arm to reach out through the mystic fibers of the internet tomorrow, I will be hosting friends at my home for a Clintonian-style (circa 1992) War Room. It has been decided, somewhat reluctantly, I will play the role of Paul Begala, the Future will be James Carville, and Koh will be George Stephanopoulis.

Originally Koh and I were going to be the married couple of James Carville and Mary Matalin, but at brunch yesterday a customer screamed, “Cunt!” in full earshot of families and kids when I brought up the idea of Mary Matalin. I like Mary Matalin, but none of my friends would be safe playing her in my recreation of the War Room sixteen years after 1992. The negativity towards anyone and anything resembling Republicanism has hit an all time high here in Cambridge.

This afternoon I participated in a discussion over at the Washington Post’s website, and actually got a questioned answered by the legendary political columnist, David S. Broder. This happened quite accidentally. Last night (Sunday) I fell asleep on my couch watching, “Meet the Press,” which was still playing over and over on my computer when I woke up fourteen hours later. It must have affected the soft tissue in my brainium that computes political queries and responses. Web surfing this afternoon, I noticed that David Broder was answering questions live, so I quickly opened the form and my mind spilled forth the formation of this question:

Cambridge, Mass.: What is the strategy behind having a campaign’s affiliates go on Sunday morning shows to talk up the idea that their party is going to win in a big swing state like Pennsylvania? It seems to me that doing so would only have the effect of keeping (lazier) potential supporters at home, because they assume that their side will win the swing state.

Surprisingly, five minutes later when I turned my attention away from the Top Ten Best Hip Hop Albums of 1996 or whatever else I was surfing through, back to the Washington Post’s live discussion, David S. Broder and the moderators had chosen my question and he had answered with this:

David S. Broder: My guess is that the Republicans’ goal in talking about their hopes for Pennsylvania was to motivate voters there and elsewhere to believe that John McCain is very much in the race for president. When people believe a candidate is sure to lose, there’s not much motivation to vote.

He’s right everybody. Please continue to check in on 3rdarm.biz over the next twenty four hours as myself and a team of crack talking heads continue with updates through the crucial last day of the Presidential Election. Go vote for Obama and buy me a gourmet turkey sandwich as long as you’re leaving the computer anyway!

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