A subset of body language

Cover of D. E. Boone's Legs TalkD. E. Boone’s Legs Talk: a modern girl’s dating tale (Jamaica, New York: Global Force Media, 2008) is one of those books you probably figured I’d buy just to look at the pictures, but there’s a lot more going on here than a bunch of arty B&W leg shots with captions: as advertised, it’s a story of a relationship that founders, and if you’ve ever had any reason to utter a sentence that begins with “You only wanted me for my…” you’ll appreciate the story line.

From the Times-Ledger in the author’s home borough of Queens:

Author and Queens native David Eugene Boone was inspired by female noir characters and Hitchcock movies when he created his long-limbed, monochromatic protagonist.

“I noticed that women’s legs were used to communicate something,” he said, “especially when they were walking away.”

Legs Talk is Boone’s first book; I have to wonder what he’s going to do for a follow-up.

(Review copy purchased at retail.)

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May I have the envelope, please

By which I don’t mean that I, specifically, would like to have the envelope, but you know how this works.

Anyway, the 2009 Okie Blog Award winners have been named, and it’s a wild assortment to say the least. Even better, they gave the Lifetime Achievement Award to someone deserving.

A tip of the ol’ fedora to Jennifer James/JenX67, who saw this thing through, from fumbling rebirth to more-or-less triumphant finale.

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The outskirts of hell

Hell, opined Sartre, was “other people.” I try to narrow it down a little more.

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Strange search-engine queries (212)

The server logs weren’t exactly boiling over with snark potential this week, but just the same, we aim to please.

Plumper wearing black opaque tights:  Fetishes have become so specific these days.

sex tube 5″ open toe heels with back seam pantyhose:  See what I mean?

what does bitez moi mean:  It’s the fake-French translation of the pig-Latin phrase “ite-bay e-may.”

mazda 626 has a light that says hold:  It’s no substitute for a machine that goes Ping.

marvin the martian condi rice  Never quite imagined those two together, but hey, whatever works.

backstage pass to 101 dalmatians:  Just slip a can of Alpo to Bowser, and he’ll take care of you.

gay sex with old men scholl sandals:  Immediately after which, they’ll tell you to get off their lawn.

why emails deleted before read:  This must be the one person on earth who has never received any spam.

stairway to heaven tattoo:  A hedgerow right across the bustle, I assume.

Maureen Dowd on fertility drugs:  I believe this is what they would call a Bad Idea.

how to draw prince philip from sleeping beauty:  Wake her up quickly.

totally enclosed slut:  I think most people prefer them flush-mounted.

charles hill death in february 2010:  Why doesn’t anybody ever tell me these things?

Obligatory Rule 34 item: Deborah Gibson at 40.  (Wait about six more months.)

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Teeth bared

The not-so-lowly Minnesota Timberwolves always seem to play harder against the Thunder, and I’m starting to think the X factor here is Damien Wilkins, who was glued to Oklahoma City’s bench last season and then was dealt to the T-Wolves last summer. Wilkins definitely seemed to be enjoying himself giving the Thunder fits; the Wolves, who trailed through three quarters, actually got the lead early in the fourth, and at no point did they ever throw in the towel. In fact, Wilkins fouled Kevin Durant with three seconds and a hair left, and after KD sank both free throws to put OKC up by five, Jonny Flynn sent up a trey at the buzzer. Dribble it out? Not a chance.

So the Thunder escaped, 109-107, after being outscored 56-47 in the second half. And Wilkins wasn’t the only Wolf who had something to prove: the legendary Darko Miličić, who had been languishing in New York, landed in Minnesota and put up eight points and eight boards in 19 minutes. Nobody broke 20, but both Flynn and Kevin Love had 19 (Love adding 14 rebounds), and Wilkins and Corey Brewer (who fouled out in the last minute) had 18; the Wolves’ bench was good for 52 points, offsetting a bad night for Ryan Gomes, who missed all nine of his shots.

Russell Westbrook, who’d been flirting with a triple-double all season, finally rang it up: 22 points, 14 assists, 10 rebounds. Jeff Green added 17 points and 14 boards; KD’s 32 gave him 28 in a row with 25 or more. Shooting percentages were close: 47.1 for OKC, 45.7 for Minnesota.

We’ll have to see these Wolves a third time next Friday, and once more in April. I don’t think they’ll be any easier then.

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Keys to productivity

Marko now has five typewriters in good working order, and guess where he keeps them?

Those all live in Analog City, the office on the other end of the house where the WiFi won’t reach, and the only computer (Apple eMac) is only for transcription duties and doesn’t even have a wireless network card fitted. I use them for different things as the mood strikes, mostly short stories. The single-purpose typewriter is a help when it comes to priming the creative pump because — like the fountain pen — it can only be used for creating new material, not research or other distracting business. I’ve come to believe that the biggest drain on productivity is writing with (or near) a device that can connect to the Internet.

Having gone off on far too many tangents in an effort to produce something that probably wasn’t all that creative to begin with — well, I still have one typewriter. Then again, purists will argue that it doesn’t count because (1) it has a spell-checker, even though I toggle it off, and (2) it has a correction ribbon, which took me three years to learn how to install properly.

But I must concede Marko’s point: the best ideas I get, I get when I’m away from the screen.

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Cleanup on aisle two

We’ll have none of those Personal Displays of Affection in this store:

Oh, and a little plea to the coupled people of the world: Though it might seem a perfectly lovely idea to you to go to the Wal-mart on a Saturday at 4 pm, and walk slowly side by side down the aisles, arms about each others’ waists, and stop periodically to snog, trust me, the bitter single people who are out trying to quickly get food so they may get back to whatever semblance of a life they have will not feel happy for you and look longingly at you wishing they were you.

Rather, they will mutter, “Get a room, already” under their breaths and push past you to get to the cereal aisle.

I’ve never seen this sort of thing myself — where I shop, if there’s a couple, they’re usually trying to get an unruly child to cool his jets — but I’m sure it could be quite annoying.

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Smaller and better time sinks

Countering the conventional wisdom, Marcel allows that Twitter might not actually be a complete waste of time:

I’ll use it for links, or observations too pithy to blog. (Because, you know, one mustn’t have an unpublished thought…) But I’m not using it on my cell phone. People will just have to wait for status updates until I get back to the house. And how does Twitter (d)evolve? Next year Amazon will present a new service where users just grunt at each other. “Yo! Huh? Lookit. Ungh! Heh.”

They’ll have to pay Glenn Reynolds royalties for at least some of that.

Eventually, there will be a smartphone device that attaches directly to the synapses, bypassing consciousness completely. With a little bit of development, the Two Minutes Hate can be whittled down to a matter of milliseconds.

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White-collar lunatics

Alan Sullivan suggests that “it didn’t occur to [Joe] Stack that he would be giving statists a political weapon to use against those who would shrink the state.”

To which Mary P. Madigan replies, in comments:

Even if it did occur to him, he would have flown the plane into a building anyway because he was a self-obsessed yet completely un-self aware psycho and that’s what they do.

I see parallels between this jerk and psycho Amy Bishop — both were politically active and often obsessed, both thought violence was a solution and both made their professions look bad, but neither was trying to solve any political problems or change anything. They just wanted to express their anger and cause pain.

Stack may have claimed to have an agenda, but it was all over the place: basically, he hated everything that got in his way, with the notable exception of himself.

And I’d bet that every single provision in the US tax code, up to and including the requirement to sign a tax return, has pissed off someone at some point.

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Old number 3

SportsIllustrated.com headline

Um, no. (Note to Sports Illustrated: the Hornets haven’t been in Oklahoma City for quite a while.) But Tracy McGrady indeed got the start despite having played only 48 minutes all year, which suggests that the Knicks weren’t just renting his expiring contract after all. And when the camera fell on T-Mac after a couple of makes, his face said exactly one thing: “God, I love this game.”

He had good reason to. McGrady, looking very much like the T-Mac of old, played 32 minutes and scored 26 points. If he was auditioning for next season, he’s made a hell of a good start on it, and the New York crowd has already warmed to him: with the game knotted early in the fourth, the Garden resounded with calls of “We want T-Mac!” The Knicks, playing not at all like a team with 30-plus losses at the All-Star break, or like a team that just blew itself up for the sake of cap space, forged a six-point lead with a minute left, only to see the Thunder tie it at 105 in the waning seconds of regulation. And in the end, not even T-Mac could keep a lid on Kevin Durant, who scored the last five points to give OKC a 121-118 overtime win.

The new-look Knicks, though, are going to be a force to contend with the rest of the way, and I’m glad we don’t have to play them again this season. David Lee, not a factor at the Ford Center, rolled up 30 points and 10 rebounds at home, and newly-arrived sharpshooter Eddie House added 24 from the bench. Fortunately for the Thunder, the Knicks’ distance shooting was off: New York connected on only eight of 29 treys, though overall the Knicks shot a percentage point better than the Thunder.

The OKC Big Three had to be bigger than usual tonight. Durant wound up with 36 points, which makes 27 games in a row at 25 or more; Russell Westbrook (31 points, 10 assists, 9 rebounds) and Jeff Green (16 points, 11 boards) registered double-doubles.

We’re in the middle of a back-to-back; Sunday’s game is at Minnesota. The rest of the month will be dizzying, in terms of travel: Tuesday at home against the Suns; Wednesday at San Antonio; back home Friday against the T-Wolves again; and Sunday at Toronto.

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Read it and weep

Jason Boyett does his first audiobook, and inadvertently discovers a Great Truth:

Never, ever write a book that includes long names like Zoroastrianism or Mictlantecuhtli if you plan to read it aloud some day. One of my chapters uses Zoroastrianism and Zoroaster about half a dozen times apiece. My goodness, this was a big mistake. Eventually I just started saying “Zorizzle” and “Z-dog” as replacement words. My apologies, Zondervan.

It could be worse. Zoroaster proclaimed Ahura Mazda to be the Lord of Wisdom, and Ahura Mazda had 101 names, an array well short of that once posited by Arthur C. Clarke, but still a lot to read.

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Fark blurb of the week

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Sort of organized

The Code Organ reads a Web page and derives some sort of music from it:

The Code Organ algorithm uses letters on the page to find the most used note, selects a major or minor scale, and then based on the total characters on the page, it chooses a synthesizer. There are 10 different drum loops from which one is selected, based on the percentage of characters on the page that are actually musical notes.

Of course, I had to try this for myself, and while the old rule of “The girl who can’t dance says the band can’t keep time” holds true, I did like the synth, which has a liquefied-Hammond sound to it. Incidentally, the gizmo seems to reread the page each time, so things may be slightly different by the time you read this.

(From the Fire Ant Gazette.)

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Pedal extremities

A reader complains to the Consumerist:

To further add to the Target madness, they have decided to stop selling Men’s shoes and sandals in size 13. The largest size carried in store now is size 12. After checking with team members, there were no pegs, nor DPCI (Target sku numbers) for anything in size 13. They are available online, but for a shipping fee of course. As a man with large feet, I feel discriminated against! Shall I call the ACLU?

You might as well call Fats Waller at this point.

As a man with larger feet — I wear a 14 — I feel for the guy, but being unable to fit into Target’s $29.98 specials really doesn’t break my heart. (Rule: Buy fewer but better shoes.)

Then there’s the band Size 14: “Gonna pick up some beer, stay at home, and stare at my Claire Danes poster.” Does this sound like a Target shopper to you?

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If you have access to a computer — and if you don’t, how in the living frak are you reading this? — you’ve probably been forced to learn several prefixes on the positive side of the International System of Units: first kilo (103), then mega (106), then giga (109), and lately tera (1012).

SI doesn’t stop there, though: after tera, you have peta, exa, zetta and yotta (not to be confused with “yadda,” which is usually seen as a triplet). One yottabyte is 1024 bytes, which is a lot of bytes. Then again, twenty years ago even gigabytes were almost unthinkable, so I think it’s safe to say that soon SI will have to plow forward again.

What, then, for 1027, one octillion? I’m thinking “hella,” and I am not alone.

(Turned up by Nancy Friedman, who cites this usage as originating in the San Francisco Bay Area.)

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Quote of the week

Lindsay Lohan in something inexplicableWith an actual illustration this time around, yet. Fug Girl Heather says of Lindsay Lohan’s dress here:

This is half of a cute dress, and half of what the witches wear in Macbeth On Ice.

Admittedly, this is supposed to be Contemporary Fashion, where occasionally fair is foul and foul is fair, but geez. Is this one of the pieces La Lohan designed for Emanuel Ungaro? I don’t remember it from the Spring 2010 collection — or it could be simply that the brain is trying to protect itself from damage. Your call. “At least this is not leggings,” says Heather.

(More photos of this same garb here. And is that a bruise on her leg?)

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Serious forgetfulness

You might remember this:

[I]nevitably I came to “driver’s license,” and, hmmm, when does it expire? “July ’07,” I said to myself.

Came back a voice from nowhere: “Are you sure?”

This voice from nowhere, apparently, does not come from Arizona:

[M]y son got his driver’s license today, and it expires in the year 2059. I kid you not — get your license at 16 and there are no more renewals until you are 65 years old.

Which doesn’t mean you don’t have to talk to the Motor Vehicle Division for half a century, however. From the official manual [pdf]:

Arizona issues an “extended” driver license that does not expire until age 65. However, your photo and vision screening will need to be updated every 12 years. Drivers age 60 and over will receive a 5-year license.

Still, this doesn’t strike me as exactly arduous. And the fee is a mere $25, which drops if you’re 40 or older at initial issue.

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When opposites detract

Over here in Straight City, it’s easy to toss off phrases about luring the opposite sex and such, and nearly as easy to overlook the fact that a small but not insubstantial portion of the audience isn’t looking toward the “opposite sex” at all.

The language, of course, adapts eventually, and not by the brandishing of ugly-sounding terms like “heteronormative,” but by simple substitution. I have to admit, though, I wouldn’t have expected to see an example of such in Motor Trend. Still, there it is, on page 84 of the March issue, in a paragraph about Oldsmobile’s rise to the top of the sales charts in the middle 1970s:

Olds’ Cutlass muscled in on the best-seller action for 1976 thanks largely to strong sales of the Supreme coupe, which, along with the Ford Thunderbird, Chevrolet Monte Carlo and Chrysler Cordoba appealed to optimistic Baby Boomers who were single and looking to lure the attractive sex with a flashy long-hood/short-deck two-door with all the bells and whistles.

Why, that’s downright … inclusive.

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Barred from Avon

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We all have our inner demons

Former sailor Jenn says she’s tempted to smack Glenn Beck in the forehead with a shoe:

This morning he was going on about the new Navy recruiting commercial. His complaint, that the Navy is described as a “Global Force for good”.

What does he want, a local force for evil?

Which leaves me with one question: how much admission should she charge for this event?

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