acquired taste

When I was young, in early elementary school and before, I hated cheese. The smell reminded me of vomit. I refused to eat it.

Sometime in mid-elementary school, I started eating American cheese because some friend convinced me to try it. I liked it. But I refused to eat other cheeses because they still smelled bad, in my opinion.

At some point later, perhaps in middle school, I began to eat a little cheese if I was hungry. I didn't seem to notice the smell much any longer.

Flash forward to today, and I love cheese. Swiss cheese, smoked cheese, blue cheese, Provolone, cheddar, Gruyère, Havarti -- you name it and I love it. The only reason I don't eat more of it than I do is because it's fattening.

I was thinking today, while eating a piece of cheese, how our tastes change as we age. We love stuff now that repulsed us as a child.

I wonder why that is? Do taste buds mature? Or do their owners?

There are still a few foods I have hated all my life. Celery is one. Okra, too. And slimy cooked onions. I could be starving, I think, and I'd pass on celery or okra if you offered it to me.

Hell is a place where, every day, they serve celery and okra smothered with slimy cooked onions.

what would walt say?

This picture made me laugh, but it made me feel bad, too. Mickey and Minnie belong to the realm of the innocent. They shouldn't be corrupted. Hell, they don't wear pants and don't even have any genitals, so they are entirely alien to anything sexual. Listen to Mickey's voice -- he obviously has no gonads.

Motherhood is definitely making me this way. A year ago, I couldn't have cared. But I guess now I just want to keep some corner of the world safe for children. Yes, a kid will probably not see this photo, but I see my kid in a Mickey Mouse sleeper and now I can't get this picture out of my brain.

Children help you embrace the innocent and remember when you were a child, too. Having a baby has made me feel older, but also makes me think about my early childhood much more than I used to. And I want my Mickey and Minnie to remain innocent and naive.

naked on the internet

nI've been reading some articles at Daily Dot -- starting with this one -- about various controversies involving several websites that post anonymous naked photos without the consent of the people in the pictures. Some of the people depicted don't care but others are angry about it.

While some of the websites' behavior seems questionable legally, like charging to remove someone's own photos, it's a fact of life that once something is made available on the web, it will reappear at countless other adult sites until the end of time. Trying to take them all down is like charging a 747 with a flyswatter.

I've written here before about how some naked photos of me that show my face, taken by a crazy ex-boyfriend long ago, are still circulating on the Internet. All things considered, I wish they weren't, but as a practical matter I can't stop it.

When the photos were made, a little voice in the back of my head said something like "you know, these could get into the wrong hands." I didn't listen to that little voice so I have to live with the consequences. My husband has taken thousands of naked photos of me, and while I know he would never knowingly allow those to get into the wrong hands, accidents can happen. He could lose a camera or a laptop and, boom, I'm on 27,318 amateur nude websites.

Once you allow R-Rated or X-rated photos to be shot of you, you should be mature enough to accept the fact that you've now possibly lost control of that material. Forever. One of the articles linked in the piece above includes remarks from a woman upset by what has happened, even though she only ever made one nude photo of herself. Well, one is more than none, so you'll have to learn from that now, sweetie.

If you do adult things, you have to be an adult about what might happen.

my fantasy

This is one of my fantasies that perhaps will be fulfilled someday. The Husband does me in front of a room crowded with men. We do it like they're not even there -- loud and boisterous and for hours.

They stand and watch silently. I don't want them to have cameras. I want their undivided attention. The audience would be filmed so I could see their reactions later. I'd be too distracted during the actual event to pay them much attention, except to know that they're there.

Some of the faces below are priceless. (If you're having trouble seeing, click for the full-size version.) A few look like they might even be in a trance. My favorite is the guy up front on the right with the big camera and gray sleeveless shirt.

lindsay lohan freak show

I half paid attention during the recent episode of the Lindsay Lohan Revolving Door Legal Reality Show which aired last week. The woman has been arrested repeatedly in the last six years, has violated probation numerous times, has failed to show up for many court appearances, yet she still manages to stay out of jail.

The media offered no explanation as to why Lohan was sentenced to ninety days in a lockdown rehab facility in her latest legal dust-up when the matter before the court had nothing to do with drugs or alcohol. Does that mean there was some sort of backroom admission by her attorney that she has a current addiction problem?

She copped a no-contest plea moments before she was due to be tried on "one misdemeanor count each of reckless driving, providing false information to [a police] officer, and willfully resisting, obstructing or delaying an officer," according to a press report.

I have to say, in my opinion, that the pictures from her court appearance hint that she might not have been 100 percent sober or substance free. Yes, she flew in on a red eye, but you don't get that kind of look in just twelve hours, you know what I mean?

the finishing touches

I think in nearly everything I've read about cliches, "the finishing touches" is always mentioned, as in "they're putting the finishing touches on XYZ." Given it's a widely overused cliche, one is typically advised to avoid using it, per the various writing books I've consulted.

That said, I still see it used regularly in publications written by highly respected writers. Scan the The New York Times and you'll find it in frequent use. Indeed, a Google search shows it was used thousands of times in the NYT within the last year alone. That's multiple times a day.

I found similar numbers for The Wall Street Journal -- thousands of times per year.

In contrast, the phrase appeared in Time magazine only fourteen times in the last year. Arguably, that's fourteen times too many, but it shows that writing of all sorts can thrive without using one of the most shopworn cliches.

You can easily come up with less wordy and less dog-eared alternatives. Instead of painters "are putting the finishing touches" on something, one can simply say "the painters are nearly finished."

On a related note, while searching the web for uses of this hackneyed phrase, I found an amusing review for a book about cliches, with the review written almost entirely in cliches. It's very funny.

faux pirate

I think this is about the most moronic tattoo I've ever seen. It has all the trademarks of a truly bad tatt -- it's on the face, badly done, amateurish in design, and cheaply made with only one color. Rarely are all those trademarks combined all in one, however. This one takes the cake. The fact that it's also a mugshot makes it downright prize worthy. And I'm sure Chevrolet loves the product placement.

In addition to being a faux pirate, he's a also a faux douchebag with his popped collar and faux mandana. He's a regular babe magnet.

While hunting around online for a better copy of this photo (which I couldn't find), I stumbled on the most ironic tattoo I've seen in a long time. It was taken in an ER and shows the wearer has suffered a freak accident after trying to French kiss a knife. It's not particularly bloody but it is blood curdling, so if you click through on the link, you have been warned in advance. You will find the freaky irony tatt here.

cheating on your tits

When I was an exotic dancer, I saw a wide variety of breast implants. Some of the really quality jobs were almost impossible to tell, no matter how the woman moved. Most of them, however, were so obvious that the proverbial blind man could see them.

I never asked them -- but always wanted to -- "don't you feel embarrassed by your fake tits? Everyone knows they're not real." To me, it's like the female equivalent of a man stuffing a sock down his underwear to appear more endowed, and then wearing a T-shirt bearing the message "I have socks in my crotch." Or, to use a non-sexual analogy, it's like cheating on a test, with everyone knowing you did, and then shamelessly acting like you're brilliant.

Maybe this sounds like sour grapes because I have smallish tits without implants, but I am never, ever sorry that I didn't subject them to the scalpel. If a man would rather I have fake tits than real ones, then he is not a man I would want to have.

trapped in 1959

Earlier this week, I was showing an elderly expatriate American how he could file and pay his US income taxes online. Until now, he's been doing it the old-fashioned way, sending it by mail with a check drawn on an American bank.

In trying to explain how the process works and how it's more secure than actually mailing something, I came to realize his thinking about electronic systems is entirely antiquated. He's done a bit of online bill paying, but he thought when you did that, it was still manually processed on the other end. He apparently thought your payment information came in by some kind of teletype and a human then manually processed your payment like once was done in a store or small business.

I had another conversation with him a while ago where he seemed to think that cell phones and cordless phones were somehow the same thing. I could see how a four-year-old child might think that, but a grown adult?

He's clearly not senile and is sharp as a tack about all sorts of things, but he seems to be stuck in some kind of time warp when it comes to technology. My grandfather was always one for the latest tech fads, so I guess I thought most elderly people were more up-to-date than they really are.

Were they this befuddled decades ago when new inventions appeared on the marketplace? Or is that just part of aging -- at some point you get stuck in the past.

worrywart

Before I became a parent, I found remarks like this silly: "as a mother, you can't help worrying."

Now that I'm a parent, I understand completely. I want to smack the pre-motherhood me and say "what do you know, you dunce?"

I don't worry heavily. I'm not consumed by worrying. But I do worry a little bit sometimes.

As a new mother, an endless checklist comes to mind about what could happen to my son. He'll die from SIDS. I'll drop him by accident. He'll find something when my back is turned and choke on it. I'll lose control of the car while driving and he'll end up paralyzed for life. When he goes to school, he'll be horsing around with some other kid and fall, strike his head and be brain damaged the rest of his life.

Well the list goes on and on. Some of these are only the vaguest of ideas, but things like crib death and a car accident are sitting further up front.

My biggest worry for about two months was that he was autistic. He very rarely cried. He smiled and cooed and giggled fine, but tears were scarce. He regularly makes a wide variety of sounds and noises and is constantly wiggling his limbs, but no extreme emotions.

During his checkup this week, the doctor reassured me that some babies just do not cry very much and that Joey shows none of the early signs of autism. He's in excellent health and the center of my attention, so he doesn't have much to cry about, apparently.

I can't abide helicopter parents so I don't articulate these little nagging worries aloud. But as a mother, I can't help worrying.

florida in our future?

The same outfit that hired my husband for freelance assignments in Singapore and Barcelona has inquired about whether he would be interested in a short-term gig on Florida's Atlantic shore late this year. He consulted with me and I said "hell yes" immediately.

It's nowhere near definite yet, and one of these possible trips for him in the past to Vancouver did not pan out, so this could be the same sort of no-show. But I'm pre-excited nonetheless. We'd get a free all-expenses trip to the States and then we could take some extra time to visit with my brother and friends before heading back Down Under.

I've only been to Florida once and it was on the Gulf side so this would be a totally new experience for me. Joey will probably be starting to walk about the time we'd go, if we go, so I'm imagining he would totally love the beach.

I'm not getting my hopes up yet, but I am still hoping nonetheless.

ruined splendor

I've always been attracted to ruins of any sort. I suppose that's the result of being raised by two obsessive compulsive parents who never allowed a speck of dust or anything worn in their house.

The photos below are part of a large set by Paris-based photographer Thomas Jorion documenting ruined palazzos in Northern Italy, or as they are called locally paesi fantasma. Most of them are now in economically distressed regions, threatened by mudslides, or abandoned because of family strife.

You can see many more examples on the photographer's website here.

we've become the truman show

The video below is short and self-explanatory. I'm of two minds about this.

First, it is cute, and she's cute. She saves it from being totally sappy. She'll probably always treasure that moment, whether or not it was private or public. That is unless they get divorced somewhere down the road. Then she'll cringe when she remembers that day.

But my second thought is -- whatever happened to maintaining a sense of privacy? Reality TV seems to have taken over the world, and here a local TV news show turns into reality TV. Is this newsworthy? Why do people feel compelled to share every important private moment of their lives onscreen? Does this kind of thing just encourage more of this kind of thing? If it's not a reality show, it's on YouTube.

I will always treasure the moment I told my husband I was ready to marry him. His reaction is sealed into my heart. Yes, I blogged about it here, as I have other personal issues, but I don't have a camera crew following me around. I didn't post all my big private moments on YouTube.

While blogging can reveal certain personal aspects of one's life, one can still remain private. My identity is not known. I won't be recognized wherever I go. Most readers here don't even know my first name or what I look like.

So maybe I'm the wrong person to be commenting on all this. But I just wonder sometimes if too many people share too much that need not be shared.

prostitution absurdity

The Atlantic has an interesting article about current and past efforts by tobacco companies to lure consumers into using their product. An interesting fact from the piece I did not know: Marlboro was originally sold as a premium ladies' cigarette. In the 1950s, the marketing pitch was completely changed, instead targeting males and appealing to them with iconic Marlboro man uber-macho imagery. So all those he-men who bought the spiel have been smoking girl cigarettes for decades.

This entry I'm writing here is about prostitution, not cigarettes, so put bookmark in your thoughts about Marlboro and let's move on.

Yesterday, I read a Vanity Fair piece about a prostitution arrest which is the scandal-de-jour in a bedrock swath of Maine. A young woman who runs a Zumba studio was arrested recently for engaging in prostitution. An older man was arrested, too, a pillar of the community sort, who apparently was her lover and, according to prosecutor accounts, was helping her in her hooker business. The pair allegedly kept meticulous records and videos of her sexual encounters, suggesting they may have planned to blackmail some of her johns.

What's particularly notable about this case is that many of her johns have now been arrested and face criminal charges themselves because they hired her for sex. Usually in prostitution cases only the hooker is charged; the buyers go scott free. Not here. The resulting small-town scandal has been enormous.

If convicted, the johns will only be fined an amount which is roughly equal to the fine for being caught fishing without a license. The woman's purported partner in crime likely will not do any prison time if found guilty.

She, however, is looking at years in prison. Some of this results from tax problems growing out of her alleged prostitution biz, but she still will do years if convicted only on the prostitution charges alone.

While this case is something of a leap forward because the johns were nabbed, too, they're still facing a far more lenient punishment than the woman. In my opinion, there's no valid reason for this. There are two parties to the transaction. You can't have one without the other. They're both equally important and relevant.

So if she does years for hooking, the men should, too. Hiring a prostitute and then fucking her for money is no less of a crime than hiring yourself out for prostitution and then fucking for money. Yes, I realize the law does not allow for that now, but the law should be changed -- either punish them equally or wipe prostitution laws off the books.

Which brings me back to the tobacco article. American tobacco companies have gone to great lengths to create addicts for their product. That addiction will kill countless people. But are they prosecuted? No. They even receive all kinds of tax breaks for being in business and selling their lethal merchandise.

So in our society, according to our laws, fucking somebody for a hundred bucks is a lot worse than killing someone by addicting them to your lethal product.

Now that stinks.

happy st. patrick's day

I'm mostly of Irish extraction and so is my husband, but I'm rather ambivalent about St. Patrick's Day. I worked full-time from the time I was sixteen until I moved to Australia, and I always had to work on St. Paddy's Day.

I was first a waitress and then an exotic dancer, and it was not a good holiday to be in the service business. A loud party with drunken revelers is more often than not a poorly tipping group. The best tippers are loners, but you don't find many of them on St. Patrick's.

I guess my ambivalence is reflected in the fact that this is the first time I've done a St. Patrick's post on the day in question, notwithstanding this is my fifth year of blogging.

I hunted around online for a racy St. Paddy's Day photo but couldn't find anything very good. I somehow came upon the photo below, which is a priceless tattoo fail -- Stephen Hawking above one nipple with the Joker above the other. I think that's a naked woman riding on a large lizard down by his naval.

cemetery shocker

The old girl would have a stroke if a squirrel hopped over and started eating that mushroom.

mind your manners

If you paid any attention at all during last year's presidential election in the US, you probably heard about the now infamous "47 percent" remark. Someone secretly taped candidate Mitt Romney during a $50,000-a-plate fundraiser when he made some unflattering remarks about people unlikely to vote for him. Some pundits have suggested the leaked tape that resulted may have cost Romney the election.

The videographer was not known until he came forward this week. He's a freelance bartender who had previously met Romney at a similar fundraiser. At the earlier event, the candidate's staff had asked the bartender to prepare a specific non-alcoholic drink especially for Romney. When the man of the hour arrived, the bartender gave him the drink. The candidate allegedly did not speak to the bartender nor did he say "thank you." He just took the drink, turned around, and left. It was as if the bartender did not exist.

The bartender was then apparently cheesed off enough to tape the candidate in secret the next time he saw him. He then turned the tape over to the media. This revelation has led some to speculate that, had Romney said a simple "thank you" to the bartender, the tape would never have been made, and he would have won the election. Of course, there's no way really to prove whether that's true or false, but it could be true.

The teachable lesson here is that a little "thank you" never hurts. It doesn't cost anything to take ten seconds to thank someone. Compassion and kindness cost not a cent and are thus priceless. Rudeness, however, may cost you dearly.

interracial porn taboo

Porn actress Aurora Snow has an interesting article up now at The Daily Beast, Newsweek's sister site. The piece investigates how interracial sex is still taboo for many performers. As Snow reveals, many actresses won't do interracial, more because of the career advice they've been given than out of any racist inclinations.

Well-made interracial porn is great. I think there's something about the contrasts between the skintones that makes it so interesting. I like watching a white dick go into a black snatch or mouth or ass and vice-versa.

What really struck me about the article is that Snow is a really good writer. It's a well done piece of journalism and not the first one she's done, either. She clearly has a head on her shoulders and knows how to put together a good story.

I was also struck by the fact that she divides her time between appearing in porn and taking care of her brother, a recent quadriplegic. That's so interesting to me -- that could make a fascinating documentary or independent fiction film.

Aurora Snow needs a reality show. She'd be a lot more interesting than some of the empty airheads who are running around in that genre right now.

damned yodelheads

Like many people, I use RapidShare for online storage. They've had a recent history of yanking people around by changing their contract terms in mid-stream. In the past, most of these changes were to combat piracy. Those didn't effect me so I didn't close my account, although many of their users did.

Today they announced that they're changing their pricing model for storage. They previously had unlimited storage for a flat fee, but they're trying to change that even if you've already prepaid for a year or two, as I have. That's like a landlord trying to change the terms of a lease in the middle of the lease agreement or deciding to divide the apartment into half. "Yes, it's a one bedroom, but now you only get the bedroom. You'll have to pay extra for the bathroom and kitchen."

If I was in the US and they were in the US, this could be straightened out in small claims court, but since I'm in Australia and they're in Switzerland, there isn't much I can do. I can see why people got so angry at the Swiss banks who suddenly decided they would unilaterally change their bank secrecy rules.

Inadvertently, I made my husband laugh harder than I've ever heard him laugh before. I was reading the notice online about this change and yelled "Damned Yodelheads" (a term I think I made up on the spot in my anger). For whatever reason, he thinks my word "Yodelhead" to refer to a Swiss person is utterly hysterical. I cannot say it now for fear of sending him into another helpless laughing fit.

And what's the right term to use for a Swiss person, anyway -- Swissian? Swisster? Swissheimer?

my old man

My husband James turns 43 this month. For those who don't obsessively keep up with the details of my life and might need a reminder, I am 27.

Before we married, I had two doubts I had to resolve. One was that we had not known each other long enough before cohabitating and marrying. The other was that our age spread was too large.

With time, the first doubt proved moot. I trusted my instincts and my instincts were right. We are now two peas in the proverbial pod.

The age difference, I knew, would probably not be an issue for a long time, if ever. James was almost 39 when I married him, and while he didn't necessarily seem older than me, he was and is a lot wiser, if I have any wisdom at all, that is.

I've been thinking about how he has aged in the four-plus years we have been married -- if at all. Do I see any difference? Is he slower on the uptake? Powering down in bed? Widening in the middle?

The answer is that I can't really see any difference. I see a tiny bit when comparing pictures from "back then." Other than that, nothing. I don't know if marrying a younger woman has given him a resolve not to slide downhill or whether that would not have happened anyway. I suspect the latter. Looking at other male relatives in his family, many seem to be cut from the same age-defying cloth.

If anything, I am the one who has aged more than the husband since we were married. While I'm far from being an old lady, I find that pregnancy and motherhood definitely has slowed me down and reproirtized life for me. I no longer feel like a kid.

ugly as blue mud

I was in a shop on Saturday and a very pleasant clerk waited on me while oohing and aahing over the baby.

From the neck down, the clerk looked like an ordinary guy. He was in somewhat better shape than average for his age and seemed strong and fit. From the neck up, however, he had to be one of the ugliest men I have ever seen.

His face was symmetrical but none of the parts seemed to belong together -- huge ears, tiny mouth, big teeth, hook nose, non-existent chin, prominent forehead. It didn't help that he was balding in an unattractive way and attempting to cover this with a feeble comb-over.

On the way home, as Joey caught up on his zees, I was thinking about why certain people are considered ugly. When are we ever taught what is attractive and what is ugly? Yes, children's movies have ugly witches and ogres, but the reason they're ugly is because they have features that society often associates with ugly people.

Some people have big ears or a big nose, but where is it written that either one is an ugly feature? What does it matter to our species? We're not pedigree dogs. A big-eared person does not weaken the bloodline.

I'm certainly guilty of this. When I was single, if some ugly guy asked me out, I had a ready excuse for why I couldn't go. The guy might figure out I was blowing him off, but at least I tried to be very nice about it. Having a friend-with-benefits in ready reserve was always great for moments like that.

I guess that reflects on my poor self-esteem at the time -- to date an ugly man seemed like I was saying I had to settle for not-the-very-best.

I was glad the ugly clerk mentioned a wife and kids. Someone was able to look past his looks. And maybe he's hung like a bull and is a total stud in bed so his wife can't ever get that smile off her face.

If beauty is only skin deep, the same is true of ugliness.

my little addiction

The husband said to be yesterday, "you know honeybun, you pretty much chew gum constantly now."

Me: "Does that bother you?"

Him: "I don't care. I've just noticed that lately."

He's right. I noticed this a while ago, too. I can't not have a piece of gum in my mouth these days, except when I'm eating or in bed.

Much of this has to do with the fact that, ever since my son was born, I have different taste in my mouth. It's sort of a slight sour fruit taste and my mouth always feels a little dry. When I chew gum, I don't notice this.

James says my breath is fine. And I go to the dentist religiously for checkups, so it's not like anything's bothering me in there.

I've chalked it up to motherhood. I've read that having a baby can cause weird little body changes. I will ask the doctor the next time I have an appointment, just to make sure.

I was shopping today and gum was on sale. I bought a lot. If I have to have an addiction, I figured sugarless gum is better than booze or drugs or cigarettes or gambling or whatever.

manipulated art

These fantastic manipulated images are by Russian photographer Max Sauco. I like how they have sort of a Salvador Dali feel morphed into Renaissance and Medieval sensibility.

They're described by some as erotic, but I didn't find them to be that way really. They seem a little too surreal to be erotic. Just because someone is naked doesn't make it erotic.

You can see a whole bunch more Sauco images here.

creepy crawly with glitter

The latest issue of Entertainment Weekly has a cover featuring Michael Douglas as Liberace, for a forthcoming movie with Matt Damon about the famously strange pianist.

I think the picture makes Douglas look really bizarre and not in a good way. I had to Google search Liberace to see what he looked like and there's really no resemblance. The real Liberace was sort of chubby while Douglas is looking rather vulture thin, perhaps due to his recent illness. He almost looks like an ugly woman on the cover.

The EW writeup does not make me want to see this movie at all, even though it's directed by Steven Soderbergh, one of my favorites. According to the article, the movie features Damon doing Douglas doggy style, which is not something I am itching to see.

I wish Soderbergh would stick to thrillers. He's done some really great ones like The Limey and Out of Sight.

lethal artificial intelligence

I recently read a long but very interesting piece at Aeon magazine about, among other things, the threat that artificial intelligence may pose to human survival. While the article contains some very intriguing ideas, I also thought some aspects of it seemed rather naive.

The story is built around a philospher attached to an Oxford think tank who studies far future potentials for humankind, so he's no dummy. With that said, however, both the article's writer and his subject seem somewhat confused in their focus at times.

For instance, they both seem to think of artificial intelligence in parameters largely defined by today's popular culture, particularly movies and books, and don't really distinguish it from a very sophisticated computer. As a result, they give AI a sort of maliciousness it quite likely will never have. They don't seem to consider that artificial intelligence can evolve as science and technology becomes more advanced.

When discussing how AI could come to care for humans, the writer says "AI might think that human happiness is a biochemical phenomenon. It might think that flooding your bloodstream with non-lethal doses of heroin is the best way to maximize your happiness."

A computer might do that, but AI most likely wouldn't, because AI is much more than a fancy computer. Arguably, with time, AI might will be developed to simulate compassion and other emotions, but even without it, AI isn't stupid.

The author apparently imagines that humans would stand by passively as AI took over the globe. He writes that AI "might plan out a sequence of cunning chess moves to insulate itself from resistance. Maybe it would surround itself with impenetrable defenses, or maybe it would confine humans in prisons of undreampt of efficiency."

That presumes humans would not monitor what AI is doing nor changes it made to its own architecture. That aside, whatever AI might do, it will always need a power source, and therein lies humanity's upper hand.

At other times, the writer seems not to have thought through some of his statements. He says at one point, for example, "there are good reasons for any species to think darkly of its own extinction." I think it's a pretty safe conclusion that only homo sapiens think about their own extinction; no other species on earth is capable of that sort of intellectual abstraction. Animals think about survival, food, and procreation. They don't ponder the universe.

All in all, the article is very interesting, but I think the writer and his subject need to watch the Terminator franchise a little less frequently.

fake bishop crashes vatican powwow

The press here is running stories about how an ordinary layman, posing as a bishop and possibly Australian, crashed an important Vatican event during the big conference they're now having. He reportedly passed through security checkpoints manned by the legenday Swiss Guard.

What amazes me about this was how easily the guy could swan into the event with an obviously dubious costume. You can see him in the photo below on the left (right click for a larger size). He wore an ordinary fedora instead of the standard skullcap, a rumpled cassock, sneakers, and a scarf instead of a sash.

If you're traveling all the way to Rome to crash an important international event, shouldn't you make sure that your outfit is absolutely foolproof? I would think a dressmaker or tailor could whip up the right cap and sash for a modest amount. And ironing your cassock and wearing the correct shoes would be a good idea, too.

If he showed up in authentic-looking clerical regalia, he probably could've pulled this off for a good while before he was discovered. With bishops and cardinals from all over the world at the event, one could simply pretend not to speak Italian or English or French and flash around some artfully Photoshopped fake documents, if they even check paperwork.

I wonder if I could crash anything interesting dressed as a nun.

where's the flood?

I noticed recently that men's fashion trends now seem to be veering somewhat towards clothes typically worn by math geeks. The ad below, which appeared recently in an Australian magazine, is a good example.

Clothes and grooming are designed, in part, to attract significant others. If you deliberately make yourself look unappealing, are you thwarting the mating process?

What man wants to wear pants hiked up to a style favored by social outcasts and borderline pedophiles? As a woman, I certainly wouldn't be attracted to someone who dressed like he outgrew the suit from the ninth grade that he still insists on wearing.

Nevertheless, this style must be catching on because I saw some men wearing flood pants on the Grammy broadcast recently.

What's next from the fashion world? Women binding their breasts to make themselves look as unfeminine as possible? Amish chic? Deliberately soiled clothes?

The inmates apparently have taken over the asylum.

virtual terror

If you're like me, you've probably used Google Street View on occasion. It's a great way to get an advanced peek at where you're going before you leave the house to keep from getting lost. I remarked to my husband how Street View sometimes is like dreaming when you suddenly fly hundreds of feet ahead in a flash of a second. It's curious how our dreaming mind invented a sort of "subconscious street view" before Google did -- it makes me wonder if that was considered in their design.

I wondered aloud to James that I suppose, with time, virtual reality will be like that. You might be able to zip around a virtual version of Google Street View that will take you places in a simulated three-dimensional "you are there" environment.

He thought about that a moment and then asked, "What if virtual reality could create a visual experience exactly like falling off a fifty-story building. You'd be in complete freefall until a second before you hit the imaginary ground. Would you try it out?"

That's an interesting concept -- experience actually falling from hundreds of feet in the air, except without the pain and death part.

I think I would do it. I know I'd be freaked out -- given my fear of heights -- and might scream like a fool, but as long as I was safe on the ground the entire time, I think I'd give it a whirl. Then I'd finally know what I fear most would actually be like. When I went tandem skydiving I thought it might be like that but it wasn't. You're so far up you don't really feel like you're falling and then the chute kicks in so quickly.

gaping at naked women

This photo made me laugh and laugh. It perfectly captures the look on men's faces when they watch you dance naked on stage.

For some men, nearly all brain functions will simply cease so maximum wattage can be devoted to gaping. The one in the khaki shirt is a classic. A pickpocket could steal everything in his pockets and he'd be oblivious.

You could always tell when it was a man's first time in a club with naked dancers. He comes into the space, intially looking for a seat. But as he gets closer to the dancers, his feet slow down until they're frozen in place. He stares like a deer in headlights with his mouth slightly open. He'll finally wake up when someone shouts "sit down!"

tunnel vision

These are from a totally cool set of photos showing a massive tunnel project underway beneath Manhattan right now. They're being dug to connect Grand Central Terminal to a suburban commuter line.

The heavy work is being done by a massive 200-ton drill that will be left down below once the job is completed. It's actually cheaper just to leave it down there than to dismantle it and bring it topside.

I think these look like something out of a science fiction flick. You can see many more large-format photos from this fantastic set here.

saints and whoremongers

After my recent post about past sex scandals at the Vatican, one of my readers sent me a link to this article he copied out of an American newspaper.

It's a totally fascinating piece about sordid papal history and will only take a few minutes to read. Needless to say, this kind of stuff was never taught in school. If it was, I would've paid a lot more attention.

As a strictly leisure reader, I've come across all sorts of fascinating historical scandals. What amazes me is how none of this is taught in school. Instead, we were fed the most sanitized pablum that came close to propaganda.

If historians wonder why ordinary people find history boring, it's because they often teach the boring parts and leave out the juicy stuff. History is made up of a lot more than kings and battles and treaties.