From vaginas to Jews, I've got it!

... I love Dave Chapelle's joke about the industrious hooker who had an extra vagina surgically added to the side of her hip. There's a punch line to this. I'll share it if you wanna know. But I wouldn't want to ruin the joke for those who haven't seen his flick, which Bubba and I saw tonight. Very funny. ... And I didn't even know who the fuck Dave Chapelle was. I still don't, actually. But damn, he's funny.

... But here, I will recount a funny line from "Mrs. Henderson Presents," which I watched this afternoon with Dr. R for a class assignment. From one old lady to the next: "You're like a delicious, overripe Mata Hari." That tickled me. I do know who the Mata Hari was. And thinking of Judi Dench as a "delious, overripe" version of her was ... ok, the first time I got turned on by an old lady. I know: OVERSHARE! But there you have it. (C'mon! If I'm lucky, when I'm 75, I'll have me an old dame just like her. But I got about 40 years to go 'til then, so in the meantime....)

... I'm playing Alter Ego, which is some funky web game I linked to via Dr. M's dear ctrl-freak's blog, and so far, I've managed to drink a bottle of poison (well, it tasted sweet, and I was an infant) *and* helped catch a child murderer who tried to lure me into his car when I was a little kid. Ctrl-freak tells me he tried to live a more conscientious life through his alter ego but ended up dying on an operating room table -- a spinster, no less! It is my belief that the conscientious among us have NO FUN. Therefore, I am drinking poison and starting family fights. ... Perhaps I should consider that this is *not* my alter ego and that I've simply traveled back in time. But I think I might get to be heterosexual this go 'round. That could be amusing.

... I played a few bars of "Ode to Joy" on my cello this afternoon that were actually recognizable. This was very pleasing. ... My teacher made some comment to me last week about my fingers getting more sensitive. I don't know about that. My left index finger is starting to feel really funky. And it appears my fingerprint is being erased in spots.

... I forgot to mention: The One had a really fabulous art gallery opening down at Canon Beach a few weeks ago. Apparently, his lovely industrial paintings are selling like hot cakes. I'm just a little pissed at myself because I have for the past several months been regarding a painting of the Morrison Bridge in The Clairvoyant's office and thinking I would like to buy it. It sold, natch. For way more than The One would've asked me to pay for it. So all is right in the world. Except for the part where I don't have that painting.

... I bought this bow tie (black on a thick white tux collar) for the pup Brogan last week. He wore it to a dinner party on Friday, showed his duds to S2 on Saturday and displayed his servantly self again this afternoon when Dr. R came to watch that movie. (Look, if I'm gonna buy something like that, people are gonna see it.) But what I thought was precious beyond reason -- precious to the point where I *should* have puked, if there wasn't some kind of Crazy-for-Little-Dogs Lady lurking within me -- was when he got up in the bay window and took exception to something in the street. There, with his little tux collar and bow tie, he was lording over the street. Must've looked quite *special* to the passersby who got a gander at him.

... Of course, the pup is getting something of a reputation 'round these parts. He has friends -- both dogs *and* cats -- here. And he has legions of human admirers who inquire about his breeding and whatnot. But the weirdest thing yet were the people who stopped me in the street to videotape him. I know he's cute and all, but ... jeez, you know that feeling you get when guys only look at your breasts when talking to you? That's what it's like being with the pup. He's like walking a set of breasts so amazing that even the women can't avert their eyes. ... It was so refreshing the other day when a woman sitting in front of a cafe and talking on her cell phone looked at ME and screamed, "Keep that dog away from me!" when we were like, 6 or 8 feet away. I guess she was scared of dogs. In any case, it felt good to get some eye contact....

... Dr. M gave me a book the other night titled, "The Future of the Brain." I've been reading it, and it's freaking me out a little because the author, a neurobiologist, is talking about MIND CONTROL. I'm thinking, Like, I totally shouldn't read this before I go to bed. But I did. And then I had some "Donovan's Brain"-like dream. OK, really, it was a flashback. Curt Siodmak was poking me in the middle of my forehead and saying, "Hello. Is this thing turned on? Is there a brain in here?" Which *totally* happened in real life. What was it I asked him? I think it was whether a film festival in Berlin was showing *only* his films. ... But, no, really, he was a nice guy. I liked him. I think about him with some regularity, primarily when contemplating whether to flee the United States because of the tide of fascism we've been seeing. Curt told me it was his wife who made them flee the Nazis. Even after the Nazis stripped all his books from the shelves and burned them, Curt was thinking it would pass. And his wife, who was Swiss, told him: "Stay if you want; I'm leaving." I like to imagine she thumped his forehead and asked, "Is there a brain in here?" ... In any case, thanks, Dr. M, for providing the fodder for a whole new stew of weird dreams.

... So, to recap. This evening, I have written about: vaginas, getting turned on by Judi Dench, drinking poison in an online game, playing "Ode to Joy," my disappearing finger prints, missing the chance to buy a painting I really liked, dressing up my dog in evening wear, comparing my pup to breasts, Dr. M's brain book and being ridiculed by a Nazi-fleeing jewish sci-fi writer. ... Really, is there anything I've missed? Could you -- would you dare! -- ask for more?