gewgaw

Here I am, sitting in the AAAI workshop, blogging. It feels kind of strange!

Why the in-action update? I just got mail from my friend Angie, who works on the Killzone project at Guerilla software. As you may remember, we bumped into each other at E3, and (of course) I took some pictures.

Well, as it turns out, Killzone’s fansite has posted one of these pix. Ratings are up, comments are .. interesting. High poly – what a compliment!!

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And from the Washington post, an article on girls who play. I wonder who they’d rate 10 in the Killzone gallery?

The last time I visited SF (about a month ago), Doug bought a longboard – for commuting to downtown Palo Alto from his office in Menlo Park. Smallish, with nice fat wheels and plenty of flex… I finally got a chance to practice on it this afternoon.

When I was in high school I dated several skaters – hung out, rode a bit – my brother even built a tiny quarter pipe at some point. Tho I never considered myself a skater, I always did enjoy tooling around, balancing, seeing how long I could ride without screwing up…

Turns out I can still manage – at least, when coasting over the smooth blacktop of a suburban office complex parking lot. Pine needles crunching under the wheels – the thrill of an occasional drain or grate. Played around stooping into turns, cutting back and forth like I was surfing the pavement… Dog Town, all the way!

Ok, maybe not. But as the sun set, listening to the sound of the board slapping and rolling… I was reminded of the better parts of my Florida youth: long cool evenings with nothing to do but hang out and practice; plenty of warm, smooth concrete. 31, going on 15.

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Later, while eating dinner, Doug and I watched the first episode of Cosmos on DVD. Wow.

Things I’d remembered: The Pleiades, Carl Sagan’s red turtleneck, and lots of “billions”. Things I’d forgotten: the amazing “Switched-on-Cosmos” arpeggiated choral soundtrack, the space-ship set, and Carl’s total SETI-centric, anti-nuke stance.

Did you watch Cosmos as a young earthling, and dream of life in the stars? Even if you missed it then, it’s still great. Science as progress, science as religion, a worshipful exploration of human potential that recognizes, then looks beyond our small moment in the history of the universe. A perfect companion to the Mars Trilogy, and highly recommended.

This just in, from my friend Aaron, who I’m looking forward to seeing this weekend at the AAAI workshop:

I just heard about a cool idea a local 4th grade teacher is using to teach kids a lesson most folks don’t learn until after college.

Here are the rules:

• Each week, you get a salary of funny money (I think it can vary depending on grades and behavior, but the details aren’t important). There are cheap, flashy toys you can buy with your funny money.
• Catch number one: You must pay rent on your desk. The rent turns out to be a significant amount of the funny money.
• Catch number two: You can save up and buy your desk. This takes several weeks of saving. After you’ve bought your desk, you no longer pay rent, so you’ve got more money each week.
• Catch number three (my favorite): After you’ve bought your desk, you can buy another student’s desk. They must pay you rent (unless they save up and buy the desk).

What’s funny is that the same thing happens every year – the boys blow all their money on the flashy toys, while the girls all save up and buy their desks. Then the girls buy the boys’ desks. Then the girls buy all the best goodies. The boys get outraged at having to pay rent to a girl, and that the girls have all the money.

Go Girls!!

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From Matt – an invitation to participate in a free, “interactive” screening of the blockbuster pole-dancing classic, Showgirls! Apparently, viewers will get a bag of funny money to throw at the screen when they like the dancing. I wonder if that teacher had something to do with this?

Of course, if you (like me) happen to miss the screening, don’t despair. You can still benefit from the instructional lap-dance video that comes with the DVD. Interactive, indeed!

How lame am I? A whole ‘nother day and still no progress on the giant stack of games. Did some laundry (while watching the Tour – damn, it was close today) wrote some slides, had a *delicious* dinner at Lulu’s… but now it’s late and I should probably get some sleep.

I suppose this situation is not unfamiliar to many of the folks who read this blog. So many games, so little time. If you are curious but pressed, try a quick indie, like Ore No Ryori 2.

Can you make a pizza with the right ingredients? Fill the beer just so? Catch the robber, avoid fines and do your dishes (washing comes with kung-fu sound effects for some reason)? It will definitely puts a smile on your face.

Another spot to check out: Tea Games. Doug reccommends the mini golf, and the pool. The archery game is also kind of clever – if a bit repetative. Great look and feel, tho… soothing, even, after the aliasing nightmares of Ore No Ryori (tho as DC would say: the cash register guy is “totally hired”)!

With all this traveling, photo taking and workshop prep, I haven’t had much time to play games. My blogging reflects that – a whole page of entries devoid of links or analysis. Unacceptable!

So what am I playing? In times like this I spend my spare moments playing GBA games – which for me, are the Brach’s of games. Small nuggets of goodness can lead to a binge, but if you are disciplined, a few bright morsels are all you need to start (or end) your day with a smile.

Right now I’m playing a lot of Mario Golf: Advance Tour. Between the mini games and RPG elements, it’s got enough variety to hold my interest – but doesn’t obsess me as something like Advance Wars might. I enjoy beating the silly pros (indicated in practice areas by their BLUEBLOCKER SUNGLASSES, which *so* rocks), and testing out new shot techniques. And when I’m having a bad round – I just shut it off. No harm done, on to bigger and better tasks.

Of course I am being tested by the GIANT PILE of games here at Doug’s place – which includes Ikaruga, Fight Night, and Spiderman 2. The thing is – I’m not sure what I want to investigate first: the two-player dynamics in a crazy color-switch combo arcade blaster, boxing with “total punch control”, or the final state of Mary Jane’s dimensions (sigh).

Decisions, decisions. My life is hard.

As suburban as it is here in Menlo Park, the weather sure is nice. I woke up to a bright sunny day – enjoyed walking to lunch with Lulu and Austin, sat outside (dry, bug free) and walked back without breaking a sweat. In the sun it’s warm, but there is plenty of shade and a nice breeze, and even indoors, things just feel pleasent.

I didn’t get a *ton* of work done today, but I did start making a dent in the photos I took over the weekend. I also posted full galleries of the Beautiful Losers exhibit and my lazy dim sum Sunday. I’m experimenting with the rollover feature, so that the pages are less blog-tastic and more image-focused. So if you’re patient, you can hunt out some comments.

Souris has updated her trip photos, including our jump shots. Also – I’ve added Jen and Mark to my links – check them out!

Tomorrow I’m getting up early to watch the Tour time trials… Lance will go last thanks to today’s victory. After that, it’s writing, slides and conference organization.. possibly from a seat in one of Palo Alto’s many wireless-capable cafes. For dinner: Ramen Club!

So my first weekend in San Francisco is all but over, and it was a busy one. It’s almost a blur – good thing I took so many photos! I’ve updated the last few days retroactively, with just a few highlights. More photos later.

Even tho I was pretty beat, I dragged my lazy butt up to the city for dim sum with Souris, Silvio and crew at Yank Sing. As always the food was delicious – even the veggie dishes. Vegetarian dim sum is usually pretty poor (or actually riddled with meat) – but the selection this morning was exceptional (especially the Shitake mushroom dumplings and curry dumplings).

I ate way too many sesame balls and drank way too much tea – so defying gravity during the jump photos session was a bit more difficult than usual. But I think we got some great snaps (especially the crotch grab tribute to Alan), and am looking forward to seeing them. Jee’s posted some here.

After brunch Lulu and I went to the Sanrio store in Union Square. Insisted: tiny sequined Hello Kitty purse, Dearly-Lou wallet and some gifts for friends. Resisted: Cinamaroll pastel blue and lime green beat-box lunchbag/purse (which generated the “If I was still a raver” comment), beaded Kitty clutch ($50!) and many cute erasers.

I also bought a pair of black sandals. This is the second pair of shoes I’ve acquired since starting the clam count (which is probably two pair too many) – a purchase that brought the lesser-known shoes packed count to 10. Clearly, it’s a sickness.

After shopping, Lulu took me to seeing the view at her new place (which is awesome). Later, I had dinner at Coppela (thank you, DC!). I ate so much pasta that I can barely move!

Saturday was the anniversary party – which started at 6 and lasted till midnight. First, dinner (delicious buffet: butternut squash ravioli in a sour-cream sauce, mixed green salad with onion and lemon vinagrette, grilled salmon with endive, steak, mashed potatoes and braised green beans) and plenty of wine. Then, champagne and toasts, followed by dessert – and more toasts. Lastly, group photos. This was a fun bunch of folks, and I really enjoyed learning how to snap them.

I’m not sure how else to say that, really. Whenever I work on portraits or cover an event, it takes me a few hours to grok the space, the people, and so on. And when I travel to a new city, I often enforce a “no photos” rule for the first few days. Leaving my camera behind gives me a chance to pick up on the frequencies – what’s unique, what’s common, what’s momentary, what’s timeless. In Amsterdam, for example, I took most of my photos in about 3 hours, on the morning of my departure. The color theme emerged then – something I wasn’t even conscious of, until I had the camera in my hand.

If I were to pick a theme for this event, I think it would have to be admiration. In toast after toast, people spoke about the kindness, generosity and care that Hi and Esther lavished on their children (biological and adopted), grandchildren, friends and neighbors. From Navy shipmates to in-laws the list of thank yous and praises grew – so eloquent that I was often moved to tears – and I was not alone! Inspiring, all around.

Driving home I realized: To celebrate 60 years with anyone, at this point, I’d have to live past 90 (and probably, marry a younger guy!). I wonder: what are the chances?

After a spastic packing frenzy I realized that I’d left my power supply at the office. Seth (my hero) drove me to the office, then to the airport at 8 am – saving me cab fair and much back pain (hauling my book-filled suitcase up the el platform stairs would not have been fun). There were several other slight mix-ups and travel-related stresses, but I made it to the plane. Then I passed out cold in my seat – reviving only once to let a row-mate use the restroom.

This trip is being sponsored by my friend Jen, whose family is in town to celebrate her grandma Esther’s 80th birthday, as well as her grandparent’s 60th wedding anniversary. She flew me out so that I could photograph the event – a real treat, as it turned out.

After doing some preliminary work at Esther’s birthday reception, I hustled over to Yerba Buena Center for the Arts, for the Beautiful Losers opening. Souris and Silvio are also in town on a friendly-flyer ticket, so I was in good company (if a bit tired and spacey).

The exhibit was packed with young fashionistas and skate kids – a real treat for me and my camera. Actually – it’s Ian’s camera, which has officially rekindled my desire to own a digital SLR. I was, of course, mocked for “whipping it out” by both Souris and Alan (who loves dis my large lens fetish), but the photos I got were worth every last insult.

Lowpoint: Walking from the hotel Adagio (right on 6th and Geary, across from the Clift) where I was shooting the reception, to the opening. I walked along 6th to Market and then up to 3rd – which took me to ground zero of the Frisco down-and-outers club. So strange, to walk from the posh hotels, up to the brand-name bombast of Union Square, passing through that maze of impromptu beds. So many people in need of medication, care, treatment, shelter.

They come because it’s a community of sorts – and they stick together in a way. Greeting each other at familiar corners, perhaps to make up for the thousand-mile stares of passing tourists. But it isn’t enough. You can see that they’ve gone thinner – transparent, from lack of recognition. Lulu says the city is working on some new plan (”They talk about it *constantly* on NPR here”); whatever it is, I hope it works.

Highpoint: Waiting outside YBAC, behind the patio, for Souris to come give me a ticket. A security guard asked me if I was lost (he’d seen me walking back and forth looking for her) and I explained that I was waiting for a friend. On a whim, I decided to take his photo. He posed, and then let me in through the back gate when no one was looking. Freer than free – I didn’t think that was even possible!

Bye Bye, 324. Thanks to the movers and staff of 1890 Maple for all your help!

I had a bad day today. It started this morning, when I woke up to my period, about two hours later than I’d planned (the old am/pm alarm clock mistake).

I showered quickly, ate some cottage cheese and peaches, and headed into work. Once there, I stripped the walls of my office and packed up all my books in preparation for a Wednesday move. I leave Friday for a conference and am feeling unprepared. Spending the day on a move made my stomach hurt.

It doesn’t help that my new office is actually my *old* office – the one I occupied back in 1999 with my ex-boyfriend (still a friend), while working for my ex-advisor (doesn’t speak to me – go figure). All that karma, and 2/3 the size of my current digs. At least I’ll have nice neighbors.

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I really hate packing. For me, it’s a strange combination of dread and excitement… a frenzy of discarding, followed by a childish retreat to hoarding (otherwise known as “filing” or “saving”).

This time it was especially unnerving – as I hope to move for good within the year. Documents I’ve meant to read for months (or years)… articles I clipped in college… dusty cables and busted hardware – why do I keep it? Blast, ye cramped, ivory tower!

My afternoon meeting with Ian was a disaster as well. Between a late lunch (too “busy” to eat), hormones, and a weekend of aimless, terrible writing – I was in quite a state. While he was encouraging and kind (”The theoretical stuff is *always* the hardest to write about!”) I still left feeling crushed – squashed by my bad abstractions and cloudy generalizations.

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On the bright side – at least my current medium is words. Can you imagine if I were cartooning the thesis? Even this blog. The time and effort it would take to draw one bad day – only to realize (as I have, just now) that it’s mostly boring, scrappable crap? My words cost me a few minutes – but to draw them? Lulu, with her continued dedication to timely strips, is an inspiration.

Recent Justin co-conspirator John Pham is another. His discussion of the drive behind obsessive-compulsive creative projects in comic post-mortem Substitute Life is one of the best I’ve ever read (really – all his stuff is great).

Comics, films, games…theses! What compels the creator to go on despite days of seemingly fruitless labor, propells her through detail-oriented drudgery? Why even bother to communicate with the world? How to stay dedicated, when you know the finished work won’t hold a candle to your inner vision, your shining ideal?

John Pham has been there, people. He’s drawn it!

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Last night, in a fit of frustration, I tried to write down what *I* was struggling with. Far from a shining ideal – just an outline to clear my head. What the goals are, what I’ve been up to, where I want to go.

It turned into a strange, open letter to no one in particular, and as many of you have asked to hear more about the thesis, I figured I’d post it. A tiny window into my thoughts – perhaps confused and haphazard to look upon. Forgive me – it was late.

But reading it over, with a day’s distance and Ian’s advice ringing in my ears – I think I know where I’m sticking. And tomorrow (thank God) is another day.

I had an interesting chat with my father, while I was cooking dinner this afternoon. Not sure why I called – I guess cooking reminds me of him.

As long as I can remember my dad has loved to cook. Even when we were small, and he was doing shift-work at the power plant (a nuclear engineer, he worked for GE then) he would always make time to cook on the weekends. And he was a *master* with eggs. Breakfasts with dad are still some of my favorite memories.

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Today we chatted about his recent work with the local homeowners association. Always an active member, it’s become a regular part of his life in the last year. What he thought would be a twice-monthly task is now a twice-a-weak firefight – a “significant investment” over what he had planned.

When I asked why he kept doing it, he explained that there were two major factors. The first is value. The neighborhood is 20 years old and he wants to keep it in shape. Like most things, age has started to show on the homes and in the landscaping – and in the residents. It takes effort to beat back the tides, and sometimes people need a little kick in the pants.

“And really,” he explained, “If I don’t step up and take care of it, why should anyone else?” This is one of his favorite lessons: you have to take a personal interest if you want to see positive change.

The second reason? “Well, I suppose it’s just my way, but if I’m not trying my hardest, then I feel pretty bad about it.”

I am nothing if not my father’s daughter, that much is clear.

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The other thing I noted was his general lack of interest in travel and consulting – a first, really, in all the years since he started his business.

“As I get older, the idea of flying around and chasing after people just gets less and less appealing. And at some point, it’s like they say: if you don’t want to play football anymore, football games aren’t really that much fun.” The book he’d been planning to write? “No interest, whatsoever.”

I was kind of shocked to hear this. Dad has *always* been excited about TQM: helping this or that company do a better job with their business, preaching the gospel of “doing it right the first time”. What will he do with all his free time? Start a barbershop quartet?

As it turns out, he’s already got another job.

“With your mom working now, I have plenty to do. Between the housework, the yardwork and laundry, making what I want for dinner every night… well, that’s 60 percent of the day right there! I tell you, your mom’s got it pretty good. I don’t think she even remembers how to turn on the oven anymore!”

Standing over my simmering dinner, dreading the laundry and cleaning I have to do to prepare for my next trip – I sighed aloud.

Where’s *my* Mr. Mom?

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Not too surprisingly, dad had a thought on that too. Always armed with a little tidbit about business, science or the human condition – he pointed me to this article about the choices facing women my age.

Looking back a year or two ago, I remember pushing hard towards marraige and long-term plans. At the time it just seemed like the smart thing to do – now it just seems silly. But when it didn’t happen, I wondered (like most gals) if I’d lost my chance at “having it all”. Oh, how our hormones (and work ethics) betray us!

Like my father, I’m surprisingly comfortable despite relatively significant changes. And like the women in the article, I’ve let go of some unreasonable expectations. But sitting at the kitchen table all day today, cranking out thoughts, it was hard not to feel a little worn through.

I may not be ready for the ball n’ chain, but a cap n’ gown would suit me just fine.

Last night flush friends Seth and John took me out to the Lakeview Lounge. I had never been before – tho it’s an institution in my neighborhood (25 years this 4th of July). The drinks are cheap and the band isn’t shy of liquor – always an interesting combination.

About halfway through the evening (thanks in no small part, I’m sure, to the aforementioned cheap drinks) my freak magnet started working overtime. I was taking photos, when the guy next to me at the bar leaned over and said “Are those dirty pictures?” Sometimes I wonder how people think up this kind of stuff…

Noticing my flash, the lead singer (pretty drunk now) shouted “Hey – take my picture!” and posed. After the snap, he announced to the bar that he’d finally found a woman worthy of his affection. He sang the next song “to me” (read: he vaguely mumbled “Can’t Take My Eyes Off Of You”, nodding once in my direction about a minute in).

Jack, the toothless 65-year old Irish regular (he used to play the accordian in the band, apparently) emerged at this point, with a thick accent and a sharp (if dusty) hat. “Are ya married, pretty lady?” He went on to explan that he can’t be married. “I got AIDS! Bandaids, Rolaids and Public Aids!” After this, they only got better.

“What side of a chicken has the most feathers? The top, the wings, the tail? You tell me!” Correct answer: THE OUTSIDE!

“Do you have a good memory?” I said no. “Well I can’t tell ya this one if you say that!” Ok, yes. “Can I ask you a few questions?” Sure. “Do you like apples?” Yes. “Do you like men?” Some. “Do you like the Cubs?” No. “Now what was the first question I asked ya?” Do I like Apples.

“Hahahr no – I asked if you had a good memory!”

He insisted on buying us a round. It was late, and there was no way I could finish another beer – but I did my best to pretend and stopped at his spot on the bar before leaving. I thanked him, and gave him a kiss on the cheek – for which I received a kind, gappy smile and a kiss on the hand.

“You gentlefolk have a lovely evening – I sure hope I didn’t bother ya none. If you want to know where I am, just ask anyone. I’ll be singing in the bar, and dancing in the pattywagon!”

Indeed!

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This morning I recovered from the evenings festivities at the corner diner, with Matt. He bought me breakfast in return for teaching him (once again!) how to tie a tie. In addition to catching up – he had interesting news: he’s planning to climb Mt. Hood. Go Matt!

Over the last couple of days, the WomenDev list has been chatting about character design, gender and sex appeal. The thread included a debate about the inclusion of “bulges” and other such overt sexual exaggerations on male avatars. In response, Sheri posted a brief summary of her talking points on gender and character design:

As the avatar is the representation of the user, we want our avatars to be “heroes.” The traditional view of the hero is someone who is physically strong, young, and virile/fertile… also usually attractive. To this we usually see our male and female avatars display those physical signals that say those things and, perhaps, even exaggerate those signals.

The following are the physiological signals that say, “I’m young, strong and fertile/virile”:

Males:
• Wide shoulders
• Large arms
• Slim waists
• Slender hips
• Long thick hair

Females:
• slim waist
• Large breasts
• Breasts placed high on chest
• Round derrihre
• Long thick hair

So, in that case it is true. Male and female avatars are often similarly exaggerated.

There is one area, however, where they are not the same.

In addition to signals indicating youth and strength, the female avatars very often exhibit physical signals which indicate sexual receptivity.

In other words, the female avatars are exhibiting physical signals that say, “I’m ready for sex RIGHT NOW.”

Any human sexuality course will tell you that those physical signals are:

• A thickening and reddening of the lips resulting from the rush of blood to the face which occurs when the body is ready for sex
• A thickening of the eyelids resulting in the “bedroom eyes” look, also a result of the rush of blood to the face.
• Heavy breathing, usually indicated by an open mouth
• Erect nipples.

Very often the female avatar is clothed to emphasize these traits and then is posed either in a position to draw attention to these traits, or a submission/receptive posture.

Now.. the really really interesting thing is.. the male body reacts in EXACTLY the same way when he is immediately ready for sex (with one rather noticeable addition) however.. you NEVER see any male avatars presenting ANY of these signs.

I have some pictures I like to use in my talks which are of male models who are exhibiting these traits. The audience reaction to those pics is usually priceless! The guys squirm in their seats and look ceiling or the floor…ANYWHERE but the screen. That’s when I can explain that.. as uncomfortable as they are looking at those sexualized male characters.. that’s how (the majority) of female players feel when asked to have a hypersexualized female character represent them.

Suggesting that adding males with “big packages” will attract female players is thinking about it in the wrong direction. We should be MUCH more concerned about how many female potential players we are running off by requiring them to identify with a character that says, “I’m ready for sex RIGHT NOW!”

So, we can add to the female character list: No hypersexualization, including Heavy lidded eyes; full, red lips; open mouth; erect nipples; provocative clothing; submissive/receptive postures. A test for this is… if you can’t picture a male character in the type of clothing, facial expression or posture of the female avatar, then you probably need to rethink it.

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This is an interesting set of features/measures/considerations. Do we run female gamers off with our cheap shots (sexy art)? Most fashion magazines display women in exactly the same poses that this post describes – and yet, women buy them by the truckload.

And what about packages? Glamour and Cosmo aren’t bashful when it comes to presenting males. Same goes for soap operas and the magazines that cover them. Would women shy away from sexy male avatars, or are we just more critical/skeptical of the surrounding context?

I certainly don’t mind seeing Pete Sampras show a little leg on the courts of Top Spin. And a locker room towel scene wouldn’t scare me off (tho it *would* seem pretty silly). If anything, the tacked-on nature of sexiness in most games (or sexiness with tacked-on gameplay) is what I find irksome. That, and the lack of balance.

But given a different context (say, a soap game where sexy characters were supported through game design) – what would women want in their studs? Girl-made independents like Sweet Action prove that even the *pastiest* Brooklyn hipster can look kinda hot, in the right setting, for the right audience.

Is there a counter-list of girl-friendly features for male characters? Or are we (as many suggested) more interested in substance than appearance?

I sure hope not. Attractive *behavior* is a hard problem

It seems as if the world is conspiring to make my summer-light pockets just a little more bearable. Generous friends provided me odd jobs (babysitting, catsitting – and now … freelance event photography!), others have lent a hand with cash. And now, even businesses are chipping in.

Yesterday, I passed by one of my favorite Evanston shoe haunts. “Just looking” turned into trying on a cute pair of slides (”Chinese flats meets Chuck Taylor” as Paul described them), and then… at the counter. Guilt, guilt, and more guilt coursed through my veins..

“Have you shopped with us before?” he asked, punching my info into the computer. “Oh! (pause) I see you HAVE! And (pregnant pause) today is your DISCOUNT DAY!”

$25 off thanks to the store’s frequent flyer program – bringing the total cost to a little over $2. Throughout the transaction, they played music from the store speakers – a sort of jaunty marching tune with clapping and “Woo Hoo!”s and “Yeah!”s recorded in places as well. Super silly – but I left the store smiling! And… guilt free!

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This morning it was the same thing. Nothing left for breakfast… Should I spoil myself with coffee and a pastry from the grocery store Starbucks? Just coffee. I wrapped a slice of homemade banana bread and downsized from a Grande to a Tall – just to be on the cheap side.

“Dominicks card?” asked the Starbucks lady. “Oh – this one is your 10th – it’s free!”

Less than an hour after I got to work, Ayman came by to remind me about a lunch Rob and I had scheduled with one of the interns in his lab. For my time: a free grilled cheese! Plus fries! And a coke!

—

In the category of expensive but probably worth it: Lance Armstrong’s fancy new time-trial helmet, which finally passed safety codes after much rigmaroll. He’s the king of top secret bike gear. In tonight’s episode of “The Lance Chronicles” (cheesy, yes – but I’m hooked) the team bikes were *actually too light* to qualify for a race. Only 5.8 lbs. That’s less than most newborns – which is pretty amazing!

So is television, really – at least, in small doses. Watching the tour, I channel surf during breaks, and sometimes I catch a real stunner. In one ad (switched in and out too fast to see what it was hawking) a woman stared gleefully into the camera and said “This isn’t one of those get rich quick schemes – but guess what? I DID!”

Also entertaining: a FOX “news” interview with Dr. Andrea Barthwell, Deputy Drug Czar. Yes, I swear, that’s what was under her face on the television screen – I Googled her just to be sure.

This lady is not very into pot. She thinks that allowing people to use it medicinally is bad. Especially since there are commercial synthetics (go go Gadget lobby!) that (partially) reproduce the effects of cannabis – without sending a dangerous, “mixed message” to “our children”.

While the indignant, Liberace-esque host *mostly* agreed, he did think there were some exceptions. “For people like Montel [Williams, who suffers from MS and uses pot to take the edge off chronic pain], it’s ok”. At least Montel is still out there, making friends.

—

But these Twelve Girls took the TV cake tonight. Riverdance meets … Splendid China. “Twelve Girls Band is 12 of China’s finest female musicians. Playing classical Chinese Instruments… with a delicious modern groove.” The do covers, too! Prominently featured in the advertisement? Coldplay’s “Clocks”. Their album is entitled “Eastern Energy”

Caught a ride with Paul up to Evanston today – it was dead! Guess everyone exhausted themselves blowing shit up last night, celebrating?

Either way, Puck was happy to see me. He snuggled with me a bunch, which was fun. He’s what I’d call an aggressive cuddler. I had to wipe his noseprints off of my camera lens!

After wolfing down his food, he played with me a bit. Not so good at video games – but a great improviser.

—

On my way home, I stopped at Osco to pick up some unavoidables (why are tampons so expensive??) and well… I made my first impulse purchase: a curling iron.

I haven’t had a curling iron in forever – maybe since sometime in high school? I used a little tiny to make ringlet curls in my hair for Valentines day my freshman year in college (hot date) – but it’s probably been 10 years since I owned one.

First of all: it was CHEAP! Made with some kind of horrible slave labor and tested on innocent children, most likely. With tax, it was $6.51. That is not a lot of clams. Heck – a L’Oreal lipstick costs more than that!

Second of all: it makes my hair look super 80s – tho different from the metal-esque frizz I was sporting earlier today (thanks, humidity). I spent half an hour curling up my locks when I got home and the results were so Moonlighting! Where’s my power suit?

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Speaking of hair: While at Ian’s place, I played with his “tingler” – a wonderful invention designed to scratch your scalp. It looks kind of sinister – but man, it feels so good. If this is at all representative of how scratching feel to cats, they are a bunch of lucky bastards!

And speaking of pleasures: if you like slick hair, smooth hands… and, uh… stuff? Try Uberlube. Susan swears by it. “It’s engineered to keep moisture in your skin – so it makes a great hand lotion. And it’s WONDERFUL on hair!!”

And it is. Even on my totally bleached-out ends, it made a diffference. Lube – who knew?

It was a lovely day here in Chicago – sunshine patched with clouds, warm but not too hot. As I rode up to feed Ian’s cat, I daydreamed about the Tour. Imagining myself in a pack of world-class cyclists, in the last stretch, sprinting for a chance at the yellow jersey…

But it was hard to keep the French and Belgian countryside in mind, thanks to all the firecrackers. In Edgewater, up through Rogers Park and into Evanston – and all the way back… the patter and boom of explosives.

—

Now that night has fallen, the noise is constant, and sulfur wafts in through my bedroom window. There are more fireworks, it seems, than on any Chicago 4th I can recall.

Not to say that Midwesterners aren’t as patriotic as the rest of their peers… but they do tend to be cautious. My parents were no exception (dad is from St. Louis); we were lucky if we got some sparklers. “You can lose your hearing! Or blow off a finger!”

But today people threw caution to the wind. Streets, parks and alleyways were peppered with kids (and parents) setting off rockets, bombs and other delights. Near every barbeque pit, a stash of tiny combustible packages. Celebration, noise, fire.

And as I sit here, I wonder. Is this what it sounds like Baghdad?