Give him the stick.

The song that was #1 when mom ejected me from her womb ended up shaping my entire life. Yay for Chuck Berry and his hit ditty, "My Ding-a-Ling".

My ding-a-ling, my ding-a-ling, won't you play with my ding-a-ling.

According to Wikipedia, "the lyrics are often interpreted as referring to masturbation, as ding-a-ling is a euphemism for penis, and it is quite likely this was Berry's intention."  Learn something new everyday.

I will tell you whats wrong with San Francisco. Nobody has AC. Okay, granted, it isn't Boston hot. My widget says it is only 74° non-celcius. That ain't shit by Boston standards. But you know what, Boston gets hot enough often enough that anyone in their right mind has air conditioning. Whether it is a shitty metal window unit or full on central, people know they can cool off if the temperature gets to intense.

But nooooo!  Not us. We San Franciscans are anti-AC. Even the coffee-shop down the street had to rent an industrial size AC fan to cool off because in there, it must have been like 90° not taking into account the steam coming off those frothers.  And look at my poor Beast.

Heat.

He never sits inside his designer cardboard cave which I bought for way too much money only to find that cats just don't like to sit inside of anything that cost more than they did.

But today is different. My windows are open, my blinds are shut, all the lights are off, a fan is blowing on me as I sit on the floor in my underwear because my wonderfully soft cheneille sofa makes my butt sweat, and Beast has retreated to his 'spensivo cardboard hidey hole for the first time since I bought it over 4 months ago.

My kingdom for a Friedrich.

I find myself flummoxed. My technological interests of late have shown a need for the learning of vectors. You know, vectors.  This shit...

u . v = |u| |v| cos theta

Ugh.

It makes total sense when I look at it in this context, but when I think about how to apply it to my needs, I get a little dizzy and opt for a stiff drink and a few rounds of Burnout Revenge on the 360. I have tried several times in the past to learn vectors and matrices. All have ended with gin and video games. What am I missing? What is the bridge that will make it sudden clear? How many puzzle pieces do I need to put together before I can sit back and confidently say, "I am definitely looking at a covered bridge in autumn?"

Don't get me wrong. I am a bit of a math whiz. I am asian, after all. I may not know how to play the violin, but I totally got the asian math-whiz gene. Especially trig. It took a few years of ignoring it, but eventually trig and I became good friends. I know how to convert radians into degrees. I can visualize overlapping sine and cosine waves like nobody's business. But ass crap fuck. I cannot make heads or tails of u · v = |u||v| cos 0 = |u||v| 1 = |u||v|.  Screw |U| and screw |V|.

I stumbled across this link in my searches and it is kinda sorta helping me to understand this. But only kinda and but vaguely sorta. I mean OMG, WTF?

F_gravity = m g sin θ
F_spring = c sin θ (√(s_x² + s_y²) − R)

Sigh. I shouldn't have gone to art school.

killing teens in bukkakke action.

Man, thats some hardcore bukkakke! But is it really worth your life?

The first time I managed to find myself in Golden Gate Park, I hit the Conservatory of Flowers. I didnt know what to expect, aside from flowers of course. It was humid. Very very humid. There were some pink things. And ooh, look, a pool. Where are the frogs, I wondered. No butterflies? How odd. Ha, that one looks like a penis!

Then I saw them. The orchids. The resplendent (see previous blog post) orchids, all dewy and inviting. I thought, 'If that is what vaginas actually looked like, then let me at 'em!'

Offcenter orchid

A few weeks later, I found myself walking up Fillmore in a martini haze. It was a Saturday afternoon and Lance and I wanted some Kiehls. We passed by a hole-in-the-wall flowery. Er, a flowerery. A flower place. There in the window was the most lovely pair of beautifully potted white phalaenopsiseseseseses. 'Orchids' to the lay person.

I had to have them. I thought, 'OMG, LOL, they are so purty!!! :P'

But they wanted nothing to do with me. Even as the cabbie with the horribly long nails was driving me and my three loves back to my apartment, they began to wilt. They lost their sheen. Maybe they didn't want me to be their care-giver. Maybe they were just reacting to the sweaty cab driver, and seriously, his nails were like talons! Maybe they wanted nothing to do with Duboce Triangle and my fantastic city view.

Three weeks later, they were dead.

I tried to help them. Really I did. When their leaves began to yellow, Lance convinced me to go back to the flowerery and asked them what might be wrong. An employee with a harsh accent said, "Hmm, yellow leaves? That either means they don't have enough water or they have too much water."

Thanks for that, Mr. german flower guy. Huge help. What was I to do? Should I starve one of water and not the other to see which bounces back and which takes a turn for death? I couldn't separate them. I just couldn't. They were bought together so they should die together if that is to be their fate. I decided it was an abundance of water which was causing them stress so I cut back on the wetness.

Stupid orchids

I was wrong.

Here they are. Dead. Sure, one still has a wrinkled blossom clinging to it, but not submitting to gravity isn't the same as being alive and happy.

I am not yet sure if I will attempt orchids again. They seem a bit too complicated and are difficult to keep healthy, which is pretty much my understanding of vaginas as well. Small world.

resplendent russsian Teenies in pono!

Merriam-Webster says that 'resplendent' means "characterized by a glowing splendor". And 'pono' is the last word of the resplendent state motto of Hawaii. Do with that what you will.

Well, I am half Japanese so I thought it would be fitting. The other half is Scottish and I didn't see any blog headers with whiskey and plaid kilts so I opted for the cutesy pink one with the flowers.

So here I am, about to start another blog. Maybe this one will have a lifespan of over a few months unlike my other blog. Maybe I will talk about my company. Maybe I will only post when one of these hits within a 50 mile radius. Maybe I will do like my better half and review stuff n' junk. Perhaps I will make this blog focus on my artistic interests and the tool I prefer to use.

Bullseye color

Ooh, or maybe I will go totally gay and only write about my cat. I totally should! He is so super cute! Pure-bred Russian Blue. A friend of a friend told me pure-bred = short life-span. She is just jealous cause all her cats are mangy vomit monsters.

Then again, I might just talk about shit that annoys me. There is certainly plenty of that in the world. So, to you, Vox, I offer a tenuous handshake. Maybe you will keep me interested for more than a week. But then again... wait, what was I saying?