Re: less of a sauce, more of a glaze

1

Like Zorro?

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Obviously, "liked a crazed confectioner" would have been the correct aesthetic choice.

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Why am I so not surprised to see those excerpted here?

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Because you knew about my demon eel?

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Gary Farber has a blog?

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What's really amazing is that most of the excerpts were written by established literary giants (and Brando, who's just, y'know, giant-sized).

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Also, when trying to convince a partner to give you a fellatio, you should probably avoid the phrase "one whole creature of live slime."

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I don't think Updike's entry belongs on the list. Granted, it's a shoddy paragraph, but what makes it intolerable isn't his treatment of sex but the use of "eagle eyes of a bunch of crows." I felt a nonerotic spasm when I read that line.

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Some of that is bad writing, and here I'm thinking of "an M of receptivity" and "demon eel" and other crimes against figurative language. But it's hard to know without some context whether the rest is bad sex writing. If the writers meant to arouse, they probably failed. On the other hand, if they meant to faithfully represent characters entertaining the kinds of goofy thoughts that sometimes spring from lizard brains awash in hormones, then I'd say they succeeded pretty well.

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Um, SB, like Zorro?

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I don't even think "demon eel" is so bad, as long as it's not intended to arouse. It's kind of absurd and disgusting, and invasive, which, if intended, would be an interesting way to write about someone's experience of his own orgasm. Maybe "demon" could have been dropped.

Anyway, The God of Small Things has the consummate beautiful, literary, arousing sex scene.

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Does anyone actually enjoy reading about sex? Doesn't everyone just skip those pages in any book?

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On the other hand, you have like the juxtaposition of very long run-on sentence followed by the short and sweet "Like Zorro."

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Um, SB, like Zorro?

"Like Zorro" is probably the most redeeming part of that passage.

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Doesn't everyone just skip those pages in any book?

Surely not. The whole romance genre counterexamples you.

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Does anyone actually enjoy reading about sex?

Considering where you hang out online, I'd say you do.

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As, clearly, do I.

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Boy, when I was a kid, I read the "Rhett kisses Scarlett's breasts before going off to fight the Yankees" and "Rhett carries Scarlett up the the stairs" pages over and over again, while telling my mother I was reading the engagement scene. Of course, that was relatively tame. There were no genitalia or orgasms, confectionary or maritime or otherwise, involved.

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Actually, I kind of know what Tim means: I often skip sex scenes in movies (some, of course, one replays several times). Sometimes, it's a pain to get out of the theater with people on either side, but...

...kidding...

...about the theater, anyway.

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Huh. It certainly has the form of a joke.

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Well, if you're talking about Matrix 2, I can understand that.

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Considering where you hang out online, I'd say you do.

Here sex is really just a McGuffin around which we can hang the frequent wit, occasional wisdom, and constant ogged-bashing that makes Unfogged your premiere web purveyor of Mineshaft jokes.

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Does anyone actually enjoy reading about sex? Doesn't everyone just skip those pages in any book?

Unless it's about Ginny Weasely, of course.

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I really think the Guardian people are missing the point. These passages aren't unintentionally hilarious. They are - at least the ones I recognize - intentionally meant to be comical. This is a bad faith presentation of bad sex writing.

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some, of course, one replays several times

Which? Other than 9 1/2 weeks (cheesy, I'm sure, but what is anonymity for if not to admit embarrassing things?), I'm at a loss.

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When I was in 6th grade my friends and I all passed around the one book that was freely available from the school library—Cybernetic Samurai was its name, I believe—that had cheesecake in it. The book was perpetually checked out and the spine permanently creased at that page. It so happens that when one of us got caught laughing about it in class, it was me, and the teacher who caught me was a very hot semipermanent substitute teacher. (Who until that point had been moonlighting as my imaginary sensei, teaching me the ways of the cybernetic samurai.)

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Which?

I wouldn't say, even if I could remember, but I'll try to remember and give you a count. Definitely not 9 1/2 Weeks, you loser.

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The Guardian is also your source for movie sex scene rankings.

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I agree with Standpipe and Armsmasher about the Updike passage. The "M of receptivity" business is rather lame. But I kind of like the "less of a sauce, more of a glaze" phrase. It's terrible, but that's the point. It nicely reflects how bad one is at pointing together thoughts at such a moment, and also how, sometimes, sex can be profoundly unlike that "merging of two into one" that the last Pope was always going on about.

And, on that note, I leave the sex talk behind and return to my study of 28 U.S.C. 1367.

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Two competing lists of the best sex scenes ever have come at the same time

Headline writers have the best jobs.

Also, does Playboy mean for:

8 Austin Powers: The Spy Who Shagged Me - Mindy Sterling (Frau Farbissina) and Mike Myers (Dr Evil)

to be taken ironically? Because that was more disturbing than anything.

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I know that book! Cybernetic Samurai by Victor Milan. OK cyberpunk by a guy who went on to write some better-than-average Battletech novels (this is not, I realize, necessarily high praise). I don't remember the sex scene--probably because I encountered the book as an adult.

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Wow, weird. I don't remember the sex scene, either. I doubt it was much; probably the word "breast" was used. When I was in the 6th grade "breast" even used in the context of poultry could set me off.

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There's a cock joke in there somewhere.

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For those who want to skip to those pages, Amazon is going to make it possible to buy only certain pages of books. (via me)

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Let's try combining these.

Him: "Oh, Lord, I'm a-comin'! . . . Airplane, airplane!""

Her (teeth rattling as his dick jumps around): "Oooh-la-jolly well-la!"

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Amanda blogged this two days before Gary.

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And EarthGoat blogged it a day before Amanda.

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The whole romance genre counterexamples you.

The romance novels I consumed as a teenager (mostly Georgette Heyer) were set in the early 19th century and there was no sex in them. Because of course people in the 19th century didn't have sex. And yet, they were kind of steamy.

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And yet, they were kind of steamy.

Did they thrill you to the core of your womanhood?

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Wow. Fourth hit from SB's google search there is a story with the following synopsis in the first paragraph:

A young college student impregnates another "young" student who turns out to be his grandmother -- and also an Elf. (MF, inc, preg, fantasy)

Ane he meets her at a D&D game! Edgy.

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set in the early 19th century and there was no sex in them. Because of course people in the 19th century didn't have sex. And yet, they were kind of steamy.

Did they read like this?

He seems to have had a particular attraction for other psychologically wounded men, and for needy women; one married woman, whom he elevated to a sort of queenship, declared that in her experience it was he alone who could "enter the most Holy of Holies," and "penetrate to the Sanctum Sanctorum."
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Exactly like that. Exactly.

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Listening to the Ayotte audio. Respondent is using oral argument to mount a facial challenge. Naturally.

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Tom Wolfe whined about getting the award last year. Punk.

(Unf on Wolfe.)

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Link to Wolfe whining.

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The title of this post is highly uncharacteristic. What's gotten to ogged?

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I'm a crazy motherfucker, Ben.

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penetrate to the Sanctum Sanctorum

Sanctum Santorum? I'm sure it's been done.

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Speaking of legal briefs, I'd like to see some law-inspiried sex scenes. I'm imagining a lot of PRAYERS FOR RELIEF and maybe a "COMES NOW so-and-so pro se" (masturbation).

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Depends on whether there's Benedict you-know-where.

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Cybernetic Samurai was its name, I believe—that had cheesecake in it. The book was perpetually checked out and the spine permanently creased at that page.

You mean this?:

Yet there still wasn't anything good on TV. There was a limit to how much even Yoshimitsu Shigeo could watch women having sex with animals, and he had no wish at all to watch some hapless game show loser being flayed alive somewhere in the backwoods of Brazil. A base­ball game between the Fukuoka Rockets - his home team - and the Ninja from Iga-Ueno briefly tempted him, but he said, "Switch it off," sulkily, and the door to the bathroom hissed open.

Kelli came out wearing a black kimono printed with white impressionist streaks of reeds and splashed with blossoms, lavender and pale green. Mist will-o'-the-wisps danced attendance from the bathroom door as she glided toward the bed.

At a low-voiced command from Shigeo the lights dimmed to a whisper. For a moment she stood at the foot of the bed smiling at him, her eyes violet, bottomless. Then she bent forward and came onto the bed. Her kimono fell open. Her breasts were shadowed roundnesses, full and free.

She unbuttoned the front of his white trousers, slipped his penis free. It had the consistency of half-set pudding. She rolled it between her palms like a bit of dough, and it began to firm. She took him in her mouth, gave gentle suction, the tip of her tongue flicking teasingly, insistently at the underside of his glans. He moaned. One hand fisted in the purple satin sheets, the other twisted endless aimless cat's cradles in the red hair spilling out across her shoulders and down her back, dark in the dimness, accented with amber.

He stiffened. She rode her head up and down, letting him slip agonizingly in and out between taut, saliva-slick lips. His plump thighs rubbed together in cricket agitation.

She drew him to the break point of twisting effusion, the outflow of his ki, and at the last moment pulled back, smiled, kissed the fat wet purple head of his cock. He clutched at her hair, insistent as a small boy after a lollipop. She pulled away, sat up, let the kimono slip from her shoulders. His eyes mauled her. He loved the bikini lines, startling white-band backgrounds to wide brown aureoles and the chestnut chaos of her bush. Smiling from within the folds of her hair, she flowed up him and her mouth met his, tongue probing.

He grabbed at her breasts. She broke away, lips moist with mingled saliva, raised herself above him on her arms. He stuffed a breast in his mouth, began to suckle her greedily, while she watched him with half-smiling Mona Lisa indulgence. One hand slid down the glorious length of her, traversed her hip, fumbled in the undergrowth of her pubic hair for a moment, then plunged inside, thrusting, eagerly random, growing wet amid soft sucking sounds. She chewed her lower lip and cradled his head. When her nipple came to cherry firmness, he pushed her onto her back and rolled atop her, squirming out of his pants with surprising agility. She unbuttoned the gaudy shirt and tossed it aside. He sup­ported himself above her, plump arms trembling, while she guided him to her. He thrust inside, frantic to seize the tumescent moment before it slipped away. She gave a small gasp and her nails made furrows in his arms.

He lowered himself to the splendid cushions of her breasts, licking her lips, her cheeks and ears, his small flat rump pumping, bracketed by her upraised knees. She nibbled at his earlobe and mumbled and muttered encouragements, low and wicked.

A chill breath blew along his back. He ignored it; already he was sweaty with exertion. Nor did he easily consent to distraction during lovemaking. Although he seldom experienced the difficulties with Kelli that he did with most women, particularly Japanese, it tempted fate to allow his concentration to falter.

Her perfect teeth left off worrying his left ear. "Honey? Did you turn the air-conditioner on? There's a draft on my legs, I'm freezing."

He muffled her mouth with his. Let friction warm her if passion couldn't; he wasn't breaking stride for anything.

"Sil-hou-ettel" sang an achingly sweet adolescent soprano from be­hind his hunched shoulders. "Image of the modern man/Image for a new Japan." Kelli gasped. Shigeo's head snapped around. There she was, two hundred times larger than life: the gamine face of the Silhou­ette girl, one silver-papered cigarette held by fingertips, upright before perfect unpainted lips. She was never shown with a lit cigarette, never actually seen to smoke them; she more appeared to fellate them. Now she moistened her lips with dainty tongue, licked the cigarette's tip. It turned instantly to the image of a miniature muscular youth, naked but for a loincloth, balanced on delicate fingertips.

Shigeo felt his prick shriveling inside Kelli. "Turn that thing off!" he roared. The screen blanked. He thrust his hips strongly forward and inhaled deeply of the moist smell of her, frantic to recapture the moment.

In the kitchen, the tea kettle shrilled.

Shigeo froze. The lights went out, and he heard Kelli whimper in coal-mine darkness. A hurricane blast of icy air enveloped them. All around them he heard strange and busy mechanical noises. His hips kept up a small-time shuffle of their own, still trying desperately to get on with business, but his mind was beginning to warp way out of shape.

The television exploded in full volume of light and sound. A symphony concert in a splendid hall, the sound cranked up to pure distortion.

[In the book, Shigeo is being fucked with by a computer, which continues this routine.]

OK cyberpunk by a guy who went on to write some better-than-average Battletech novels

Re-reading it to find the sex scene, it seems to hold up better than Gibson's stuff.

ash

['Message from Planet Obscurantia.']

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His plump thighs rubbed together in cricket agitation.

Hott!

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In case anyone calls in the next few minutes, I'll be at the printer.

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Speaking of legal briefs, I'd like to see some law-inspiried sex scenes.

I've certainly participated in a mutual exchange of releases on more than one occasion.

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some law-inspiried sex scenes

Here you go.

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You know, Auberon Waugh created that prize, because he wanted to discourage the writing of "inept, embarassing, inappropriate" sex scenes. I think he totally failed on that one.

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51: his small flat rump

Thanks to others' descriptions of ogged's butt from those who have seen him IRL - wolfson, perhaps? - I have to admit that, when I read the above phrase in 51, I thought of ogged. Sorry, ogged.

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I don't mind the ladies thinking about my rump, such as it is.

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Ah, just for being such a good sport, I resolve to think about your rump on at least a daily basis.

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"Ah, just for being such a good sport, I resolve to think about your rump on at least a daily basis."

I assume there will be daily proof.

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Speaking of bad sex, Ogged, can you put a counter up at the top that says how many days it's been since you reset your TiVo? I think when it goes to 0, nobody'd ask what happened, we'd all just assume there was an overflow...

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Tweedle, if you've got Greasemonkey installed, you never need wonder.

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61 - Already asked and answered.

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I just want him to post a podcast of himself crooning, "Let's Get It On," once the deed is done.

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697 days, if you're curious.

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You guys don't seriously think I'm going to tell you when the TiVo is reset, do you?

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Also discussed.

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In other random sex-related news, a friend sent me this link today. Somebody made a porn site that's nothing but videos of people having orgasms filmed from the shoulders up.

(As a girl, I may be behind the curve on this.)

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Actually, I sorta do.

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I've seen that site, Becks, though I don't know if I've mentioned it here before. It's kinda sweet.

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Becks is way behind the curve on that. Over a year, in fact.

Nevertheless, some of those videos are hot.

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and a half

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It's an interesting concept. Pay site, though, and I'm not about to shell out the bucks for it. It's pretty high-concept for porn. I could envision something like that on display at the Whitney.

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A few of the videos are free, I think.

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When last it was, uh, brought to my attention, there were plentiful free samples (though mostly of women, which maybe doesn't float your boat).

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Andy Warhol's "Blowjob" was the first in the genre, wasn't it?

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Yeah, well, like I said, that's kind of outside my usual corner of the Internets. I'm more than willing to concede the title of Porn SME to you, Ben.

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SME?

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Subject Matter Expert

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You only think you're above it all, Becks.

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There's a free sample of a guy on the front page right now.

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If I truly thought I was above it all, would I be hanging out at the Mineshaft talking about porn sites?

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Slumming?

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Yes, but that only makes me more intriguing and more human.

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Ben! Do I have to bodily drag you into the swimming thread? You're supposed to leave Becks and ogged alone!

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They'll have plenty of time to be alone when they get their house.

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Hey, that's right. Becks, whatever happened to this house deal?

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You guys don't seriously think I'm going to tell you when the TiVo is reset, do you?

Isn't that what pseudoanonymity is for? You should tell us right after. And then Drum and Saiselgy can link it, it will begin to get emailed, and eventually the girl(?) who did it with you will get the link, chortle, then turn red as she realizes the post is about her(?), and then more blog-worthy subject matter will ensure.

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Ok, I'm convinced.

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I believe this predates Warhol.

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If y'all get this house, I'm movin in.

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This house

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I'm more generous than Michael. If you buy that house, I'll leave you in peace in the main property. I'll just expect you to construct a little cottage for me somewhere on the grounds. With 160 acres, there's room to share.

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92 - This part of that description amuses me more than it should:

hookups only

in laundry room

laundry tub

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You know what? That's an extremely ugly house.

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Imagine the heating bills!

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Michael is working on getting the money.

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When the next male model reality TV show?

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96 - They won't be too bad, considering we'll be leaving the thermostat at 65 degrees.

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we'll be leaving the thermostat at 65 degrees.

I don't control the heat at my place, and we've had nights down in the 30s and the heat has yet to be turned on. So, you know what, you don't scare me.

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I told her, huh, Weiner? Game!

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No, that's good, because I feared the blooming romance would wilt, or freeze, on your thermostatic incompatibility.

And I'm also glad to hear stories like yours (and Labs') because it's going to get into the 20s tonight and my house doesn't even have central heating. I mean, the center of the house is heated, but there's no direct heat source for the bedroom. I've been fearing that I'm about to reenact one of the big scenes in The Secret History. So I'm glad to hear that others survive some such things, or at least that they'll be almost as miserable as me.

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For a $19mil home, they should give you larger pictures.

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So move the bed into the center of the room.

For a $19mil home, they should give you larger pictures.

You get the pictures after it clears escrow.

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Center of the house.

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You're not talking about that crap Donna Tartt book, are you, Weiner?

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106: yes (and I was just being nice to you in the other thread *snif*); 104: the relevant part of the house isn't big enough (the bed's as close as it gets) but if it gets real cold I may be sleeping on the heat grate.

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If we're complaining about weather, I just want to toss out that we had freezing rain/hail crap tonight and I had to drive in it from Baltimore to Virginia. It was the weirdest precipitation I've ever seen.

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Yeah, I just saw that, Matt. "Crap" retracted. But I think I actually stepped on Belle's toes with that one, so not so awesome.

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Today was actually quite lovely. It's the 50-degree drop at night that gets me. (I am also informed that by staying away an extra day over Thanksgiving, I missed a monster dust storm that blocked out the sun in the afternoon.)

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Speaking of, where's Alameida been? Alter-ego X has been quiet lately as well.

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Wolfson has squared the circle: it might be a WIE to point out his possible WIE.

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Aren't their computers busted?

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109: Actually though I thought the book was pretty cool I'm not hurt if you think it's crap.

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Honest to Gawd, Becks, sometimes I visit your blog just for the pink. (I just realized this.)

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Becks - You mean sleet? Freezing rain and hail are two very different things.

Matt - Get a space heater. The house I grew up in was the same way, and a space heater in the bedroom does wonders.

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That's not a WIE. As long as we don't put the two names together in a googlable way, I think we're good.

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It's an open secret, Tim. Read Alameida's "About" page. The idea is just to keep her name off Google.

Actually though I thought the book was pretty cool I'm not hurt if you think it's crap.

Way to tough it out, sport.

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sometimes I visit your blog just for the pink

I really need to check out her archives.

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Yeah, I meant the color scheme. Just to be clear.

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teofilo--I have a couple of them, but they don't always do that much good. The bedroom is wide open (another possibility is sleeping in an enclosed room on cold nights), and I think the insulation is lacking. The house has this amazing ability not to warm up. But, you know, it's been in the low 20s before and I have yet to wake up dead or even frostbit.

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Speaking of, where's Alameida been?

Gee! I got a mysterious email yesterday!

From: "Aline Best"

Subject: I alameda Gtails Cash

Date: Sat, 03 Dec 2005 03:06:38 -0500

Birds is got wery shy Im told

ash

['It's an Edgar Allan Poon mystery!']

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115 - That cracks me up. It is an appropriate avatar -- I wear a lot of pink. I hate the color but since I have pale fair skin, I look good in it. (Such is life.) It's kind of become my signature.

116 - No, this was not sleet. It was more like itty bitty hail. It looked like it was pouring rain out, but my windshield was perfectly dry and everything was just bouncing off my car.

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Becks, if you drive the Batmobile, I might be willing to make Weiner happy, IYKWIM.

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Actually though I thought the book was pretty cool I'm not hurt if you think it's crap.

I liked the book when I read it, but now it strikes me as shockingly twee. So seeing it/hearing about it/etc. is like coming across a picture of myself wearing parachute pants.

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Tartt comments are lost on me; the tart ones I get.

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Also, totally OT(s), but have you guys used MediaMonkey? Unfucking believable what you can get for free on the Interwebs these days. I eagerly await the day when I can be assimilated into the Matrix.

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125: I was rereading it a little while ago, and I stopped at the part when he was trying to stay in Vermont over winter break in an unheated house, because I knew how harrowing it would be. (This was before I realized about my own heat issues.) I guess I don't have a settled view about whether it's embarrassing. The second one is really problematic; massive sinking feeling when I realized we were never going to leap forward to when the main character was older than 12.

What is this MediaMonkey?

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124 - If I really did drive a tricked-out Batmobile, it would probably include an attachment that rendered you unnecessary.

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Becks - Sounds like ice pellets.

Matt - Yeah, I know the not-warming-up-house feeling. What kind of space heaters do you have? They vary a lot by type. I like the ones that are filled with oil and look like radiators -- they're electric, but the electricity just goes to heat up the oil, which actually generates the heat (so they don't suck up a lot of juice). Otherwise, as many blankets as you can find (Pendletons are nice).

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If I really did drive a tricked-out Batmobile, it would probably include an attachment that rendered you unnecessary.

Modern luxury sedans come with a driver's-side Sybian.

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it would probably include an attachment that rendered you unnecessary

You mean it would pretend to come on to you to satisfy the demands of some philosophy professor it had never met?

I'm going to bed, people.

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I'm outta here, too. It's late.

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Pendletons, huh? I'll check it out.

I have one baseboard electric one, which kind of heats up the whole room but not that well, and a ceramic one, which does a good job of heating a small area (like, when I'm at my desk) but isn't great for the bedroom--and if I leave it on, it has this weird thing where it keeps cycling on for five seconds and then heats itself up just enough to trigger its thermostat. I've avoided the ones involving oil because I fear they might kill me.

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MediaMonkey is a media manager that allows me to sync my little MP3 player with various selections of music, podcasts, etc. I think iPodders could always do this, but I hadn't found anything for my mine.

Given the amount of music it sounds like you listen to, you probably already have something like this. But its allowed me easy access to my GoGos, and for this the makers should be thanked.

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I wonder if Weiner's desire to have you meet up with other commenters is related to his disappointment at not being able to meet you.

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Lazy fuckers. I'm grading.

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138

I'm reading Rawls.

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135: I actually don't have an MP3 player at all. CDs and LPs.

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I'm reading Notes from Underground.

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Wait, did ogged and Becks just go to bed together?

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I'm no-ot grading! I'm no-ot grading!

I do have 3-4 papers I need to regrade this weekend, which will take about half an hour. I'm putting it off to go Xmas shopping instead.

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Pendleton. They're a little expensive but very warm.

And look into an oil heater; they're really not dangerous at all, and they heat up the whole room much better than those electric things.

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Get a wood-burning stove.

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Electric blankets are a nice solution for just sleep heat.

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Maybe there's someone in your neighborhood with the same problem, and you can keep each other warm at night.

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Get a wood-burning stove.

Or coal. Now there's some heat.

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Modern luxury sedans come with a driver's-side Sybian.

You think they'd advertise an innovation like that.

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146: Can't he just command his grad students to do it?

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I'm no-ot grading!

Is this dialectical writing?

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Is this dialectical writing?

No, that would be christ I'm too tired to finish this. You get the idea, I'm sure.

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I meant "dialectal," of course.

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Theory of Justice, Political Liberalism, or something else?

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Wolfson and Washerdreyer vainly tried to disguise the fact that I won this thread.

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No, I did, because I'm not grading.

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Justice as Fairness.

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Screenshot

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Something has gone awry, since the TiVo itself reports 661 days.

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Drat!

Oh, I see what's wrong: a transposition from 437 to 473 in the script. Easily fixed.

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Now it says 662, but that's your fault.

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There's no reason to play the blame game. It might be counting from the time during the day it dialed, as opposed to midnight.

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Making it your fault for not adequately reporting that fact, to which only you have access.

Why must you keep us in the dark, deprived of the searing pain of truth?

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163

The fact of the possibility, which you failed to ask about, you mean? Nothing but darkness for you!

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164

So awesome, Wolfson. Truly funny. Who knew you had it in you?

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165

Why is the site loading so slowly? Also, how did the Titans get so bad so quickly?

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166

And why is the Steelers-Bengals game so entertaining?

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167

Not slow for me. Wolfson's demon script is probably about to destroy your system.

And why is the Steelers-Bengals game so entertaining?

Indeed.

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168

Not using the script; going by the jpeg. Hmmm. I'm sure Wolfson can work his dark arts without getting us to run his scripts, but I didn't known he had grown so powerful in lo' these many months.

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169

My arm is grown long. And that's not the only thing.

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170

Why the long face? Grad school got you down?

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171

If you're not going to give us the TiVo counter, you could at least change the Unfogged image title to "An on-going on-line inquiry into the boundary conditions of technical virginity."

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