Surrealistic Trivia
Report from the Cult

Not Watching The Speech

Tonight is the State of the Union address. I'm not watching it; I'll get too damn mad. Instead, we're watching Dirty Jobs, which so far has featured lots of poop in one way or another; coming up, owl vomit. And yes, it's better than the speech. I will, however, be sure to watch The Daily Show. I definitely will need to see my second husband's take on it. (What? It's not okay to plan ahead?)

Earlier tonight, MyJoe and I took in Mrs. Henderson Presents, starring Judi Dench and Bob Hoskins. It's a sweet movie -- but I think Dame Judy and Bob Hoskins could read the DC phone book and make it touching and funny. MyJoe got to see several sets of executive titties and I got to see Bob Hoskins' penis. (Luckily, it's not bifurcated, at least as near as I could tell.)

Now we're watching Miami Ink, a show about tattoo artists in (of all places) Miami. I really love tattoos -- on other people. I'm way too chicken to get one myself. My nephew has the biological taxonomy tattooed down his arm -- I think it was his way of memorizing it when he took Biology 101. He also has quite a few tribal symbols on his shoulders and chest, and a 40s-style pin-up girl on his forearm. He's the first person in our family to get tattoos.

During World War II, my Pop headed up the Navy contingent on an oil tanker. The sailors would get drunk when they went on shore leave and get bad tattoos that would always get infected. Pop would have to disinfect them and mop them up. When the mess healed, the result would sometimes be very odd -- naked girls with legs sticking out of their heads or arms in the middle of their stomachs. Needless to say, Pop wasn't too keen on ink.

On a completely different subject, I belong to a Yahoo group of Clown College graduates. One of the members sent this link. Do check it out, and when you get there, click The Big Finale. Be sure to watch it to the very end.

I had the wonderful good fortune to juggle with this guy for about 30 minutes, back in the late 70s. I was doing a minor clown gig at a restaurant and he was making a special appearance. I knew immediately that he was waaaaaay out of my league, so I stood in the background and juggled to the rhythm of the music, as he juggled to the melody. He's still unbelievably amazing.

Finally, for all of you suffering from coulrophobia, help is on the way.