not the kind of thing you'd expect to read in Christianity Today ...

much less on the 'most-read' list ... unless you've added their most-read list to your Google homepage and now know exactly what kinds of those things those Christians be readin' ... but it's interesting, even for you secular humanists out there ...

7 things you need to know about sex

LDRs

So the Divine Miss James has been posting observations this week about long-distance lovin' on her blog, BaltAmour.

I noted that technology like IM and unlimited nationwide cell phone minutes -- and discount airlines -- make LDRs much, much easier to maintain than they probably were in the Pony Express era, when people had to rely on Cold- Mountain-style missives to keep the home fires burning.

I forgot to mention there that all the technology, especially the internet phone service Skype, definitely helps people maintain LDRs over far greater distances than many people would attempt -- even internationally. I have one friend who was based in D.C. but now lives in South Africa with her husband ... they married after about a year apart. Then again, there's the Crab-Kiwi example that definitely didn't work out.

Sometimes I wonder whether LDRs can accelerate feelings of intimacy -- you know, absence makes the heart grow fonder? Or allow a relationship to perpetuate indefinitely because you don't see the things that would lead you to break up sooner.

For example, I talked about how all those Southwest Airlines trips can seem like a honeymoon. But when visits are planned ahead of time, you're totally on your best behavior --- no dirty dishes stacked up in the sink, porn cleaned out of the computer cache (if either of those are deal-breakers for you).

But this doesn't mean surprise encounters are a good idea. I have both surprised and been surprised, and I would not recommend it without intricate support from the significant other's friends. Invariably the other person is busy, or had made plans, plans that do not include you.

I like new friends!

Thank you, sad panda, for introducing me to the lovely resident of Scarlett Place ... I am actively seeking to introduce him, with the assistance of the Redhead and other compadres, to the joy that is Charm City.

addendum to: the Pretty Woman rule?

Speaking of arbitrary lines ... according to other Swingin' Friend, sometimes even boys at speed-dating events abide by the following standard:

I Never Talk On The First Date

People are so impatient nowadays. Everyone's rushing to find someone, get married, settle down, and have kids. Call me old- fashioned, but I...

Doesn't this restore your faith

in the youthful vigor of the Catholic Church?

the Pretty Woman rule?

Okay, so my swingin'-single friend told me something that threw me for a loop today.

She said some guys will mess around with girls but refuse to kiss them, saying they've reserved that intimate act for serious relationships. Because, it's really far more intimate to put your tongue in someone's mouth than your penis ... anywhere. Right, of course.

 

You may recognize this scheme as first voiced by Julia Roberts in the modern-day Cinderella movie Pretty Woman. Did it not seem questionable then, even as a loosely veiled plot device?

 

I also can't believe there are guys out there who are ignoring the proverbial bases (however you define them) and trying to slide straight for home plate.

 

But Swingin' Friend said the phenomena was more of a commentary on where people draw the cheating line ... that somehow arbitrarily 'saving' some acts for a longer-term partner makes it okay to indulge in other acts with your "chick on the side" that most ordinary people would also describe in a randomized survey as intimate.

 

Whatever the justification, a refusal to make out with a fling is a good reason to end what already promised to be a brief encounter even sooner than expected.

turn-ons, turn offs

I like to jokingly respond that my turn-ons are strong hands and windy nights, a combination I swear I wasn't creative enough to come up with on my own. But the meditative state induced by a giant Diet Coke (yuck) and a three-hour drive prompted these realizations, in no particular order:

 

Turn-offs

-- apathy.

 

Damn, I hate it when people don't care. Don't care about this, don't care about that, don't care about anything. I care about a lot of things! I am energetic and enthusiastic, and it kills my buzz when others are nonchalant and oblivious! RRRRR.

 

Turn-ons

 

-- Strong hands (that one's a keeper)

-- doing things.

 

I like people who do stuff, who are good at doing the stuff they do, who can take control and lead. People who accomplish things, even weird things that benefit society in ways that are not immediately perceptible to many people around them. Maybe this, like all my other neuroses, stems from being the Child of Immigrants who don't spend money on stuff like hobbies, but I find myself easily impressed by people I encounter in my Line of Work for this reason as well.

 

The bottom line: I am easily impressed.

 

-- knowing me better than myself.

 

I spend a lot of time thinking and some of that time (not enough) thinking about people I care about. The converse/contrapositive (that freshman-year Logic class seems far away now) is that it's nice to know that others care about me, too. One way people show they care is by showing you are thinking about someone else by doing favors or giving gifts that are nice because they are personal.

 

That is, somehow revealing some knowledge of a conversation you once had or perhaps observing a need this person has ... not because the gift requires a personal loan.

 

Like, the copy of Mother Angelica's biography that I'm giving Mom for Mother's Day ... I get a steady stream of review copies of these books in My Line of Work, so this didn't cost much, but she's going to love it. Don't spoil the surprise!

 

 

 

a great idea ...

or perhaps not.

 

I drove from Charm City to NYC tonight, and something the Redhead called to ask prompted a Great Idea.

 

He asked whether my high school had a special uniform for pregnant students, which it did not -- girls just left when they started to show. Apparently one of his current grad school-mates attended a school that made the pregnant scholars wear special jumpers.

 

I asked her, through him, whether the jumpers featured a Scarlet Letter --- yeah, I've read a little American literature in my time.

Because, in a sense, students were rewarded for choosing to abort their fetuses, because they maintained their privacy about whatever bad decisions they've made in their lifetimes and avoided the embarrassing new outfit (as if most Catholic schoolgirl outfits aren't embarrassing at some level).

 

Actually, my school uniform was pretty cute. But I digress.

 

But my real question was: what did the boys have to wear? You know, the studs who put these woman in the predictament of having to wear a special jumper in the first place.

 

'Cause that's my big problem with abstinence-only programs, and stupid pink billboards with pink bandana-wearing young-ish women proclaiming that they're "not going to give up. And I'm not going to give in." ... they're all directed at women.

 

It takes two to tango, right? Not to speak ill of the dead, but why do we allow society to continue rewarding entertainers who say crap like "I see some ladies tonight who should be having my babies ..."

 

So my not-so-good idea: An embarrassing, unflattering garment for men to wear if they impregnate an underage woman. Picture a volumnous pink sweatshirt with a giant B on it, for "bastard" -- referring to the pop, not the newborn. Make'im wear it every time he's out of the house -- and a need to do laundry is not an excuse.

 

Except, I know what would happen. This would backfire. These ugly things would become status symbols. Society does not shame men who make babies before they're ready to be fathers; rather, it's a (perverted) sign of manhood.

 

Those bastards.

 

 

 

 

Hey! You!

Although I'm not sure I'm down with the heartbreaker msg of this song, the clap-happy beat is very fun. I think some people believe it's a public service to break up couples that aren't meant for each other?

That is a question I've never been able to resolve.

so many new friends ...

So Scrabble fundraiser was a success yesterday. More people walked in than expected, which was nice, despite my counter-programming with the Kinetic Sculpture race and the Maryland Film Festival. The stalker did *not* come, but that's okay. That let the redhead off the hook. And I have no idea who won the pirate cruise, and that's okay, too. I'm glad somebody likes pirates.

But again, here's to all the new friends and connections with people from all over the world I've made and maintained in the last few months, from Argentina and California to Arlington. Hopefully they will rise above the level of acquaintance.

rules of the road

Recently returned from a lovely trip to California, where I met up with partner-in-crime Loh-rider and road-tripped to see M.E.G. and the Mahimanator ... here are some lessons and observations:

1. Fine wines and spirits are a wonderful accompaniment to fine dining, but its best complement is excellent service.

While waiting for our table at Chez Panisse in Berkeley, I had a beer. Then the first of five courses was an aperitif. And, we (I mean Mahiminator) expertly ordered wine with our meal -- delicious salmon carpaccio with fava beans, risotto with mushrooms and squab salad -- and our host brought us a beautifully sweet moscato to enjoy with our strawberry-rhubarb compote with ginger ice milk, to make up for the wait before dinner.

Needless to say, I was toasted.

That may have interfered with my appreciation of the food, but not of the service. Everyone from the maitre d' on was very chatty and friendly. I discussed the local-vore movement with the sommelier, who had only learned the term that day. And a chef (B.?) took us on a tour of the kitchen afterward where we watched them plate food for the staff.

Overall, it was a wonderful experience that I would recommend to others.

2. It's okay to ignore the border patrol. Apparently this is part of California culture that everyone should just accept.

3. Jewelry and makeup can be fun to experiment with, but the best accessory is confidence.

It was so, so fun to spend a day shopping for earrings and necklaces and clothes with the ladies on the edge of SF's marina district ... an activity I usually avoid, due to my issues with commitment. Then we continued on to close out the makeup counter at the Macy's in Union Square. It was tons of fun experimenting, but in the end I contend being comfortable in your own skin is the best beauty enhancer ever.

But this leads to the circular argument: what if you're only comfortable wearing a mask of makeup? And is cleavage too powerful a weapon --- or can it be used for good?

4. Hair-braiding is not as dangerous as massage.

5. Numbers are only as important as you make them.

No matter the measure --- whether it's a man's height, his annual income or his response to certain questions on his census form --- it's probably more critical to consider how the number affects his treatment of you than to focus on what other people will think.

6. In Berkeley, it's appropriate to upgrade your request of a stranger from cancer stick to a little Mary Jane.

7. Get out the map.

Friendships can endure despite distances of space and time. Thank goodness.

the funniest headline in Friday's paper

Peter Falk should not be used as a walk-on

addendum to year in review

I've finally kicked a nasty habit.

It only took about three decades, but I no longer bite my nails. During that (first) fateful trip to Hawaii, perhaps the longest stretch of un-stressed-ness I've experienced, I managed to not chew on the tips of my fingers until they resembled bloody stumps as I usually do. And, I've managed to return to work -- and fairly intense (sometimes self-induced) stress levels without the nail-biting.

Yay!

peep jousting

I first found a reference to this pastime in a WaPo story, but Anica Skywalker tipped me off to this link . Man, newspapers are offering valuable multimedia content these days ... 

Father Crunk

"Roll deep, and buy your own drinks, for one knows not what someone has put in that appletini." --- Fr. Bailey

The New York Times

June 17, 2006 Saturday
Late Edition - Final

A Hard Core, Hip-Hop Spiritual Journey

BYLINE: By BRENDA GOODMAN

SECTION: Section B; Column 4; Metropolitan Desk; Religion Journal; Pg. 5

LENGTH: 892 words

DATELINE: ATLANTA, June 16

Just as the sun started to burn through the smog on a recent Monday morning, the Rev. Ricardo Xavier-Zatwon Bailey, 32, a priest at Holy Spirit Roman Catholic Church here, loosened his collar, slipped on his headphones and rolled up to a radio-studio microphone.

''Yes, party people, it's Father Ricardo Bailey coming at you live and hard core from the basilica at Q-100.''

Sandwiched between songs by the likes of Trick Daddy and the Pussycat Dolls, Father Bailey has a weekly gig on one of the most popular morning shows in Atlanta, ''The Bert Show,'' where he has been introduced to listeners as ''Father Crunk.''

That an ordained Catholic priest might call himself ''Crunk,'' a hip-hop fusion of the words ''crazy'' and ''drunk,'' might seem outrageous enough, but what is really making Atlantans choke on their morning coffee are his radio riffs, which take their cues as much from the pages of People magazine as the Book of Proverbs.

Recently, for example, the subject of his discussion was a rumored bar fight between the tabloid princesses Lindsay Lohan and Jessica Simpson.

After Ms. Lohan supposedly sent a drink to Ms. Simpson that Ms. Simpson, in turn, supposedly ignored, Ms. Lohan supposedly proceeded to berate Ms. Simpson publicly.

Father Bailey saw multiple lessons in this supposed exchange.

''When you go to the club, Atlanta, roll deep,'' he said, advising his listeners to travel in packs. ''That way, people won't be ready to start some drama with you if you've got some homies around. When you go to the club, Atlanta, buy your own damn drink. Like I said before, you have no idea what somebody put in that appletini.''

Father Bailey closed by advising: ''Jesus rose above the drama. So can you.''

Another talk, titled ''Stop Dippin' and Dappin' if You Don't Know What's Happenin','' compared speculation over the paternity of Katie Holmes's baby to the fallout after the Virgin Mary's pregnancy. ''Folks were hating on Mary,'' Father Bailey said. ''They were filling Joseph's mind with the fact that he better kick Mary to the curb because he wasn't that baby's daddy.''

See the Gospel of Matthew, Mark, Luke or John for more details, Father Bailey said, and stop ''fanning the flames of haterology'' with gossip.

When Father Bailey goes on the air with his brand of divinely inspired dish, the telephone lines light up.

The first question from callers has typically been ''Is he for real?'' said Jeff Dauler, a producer and co-host of the show. Then they want to know where and when to find him on Sunday.

Father Bailey, who grew up in the Sweet Auburn neighborhood here, was ordained in 2003.

He insists that he is for real and that his street-smart sermonizing is not for show.

''That's just who I am,'' he said. ''It's not an act. The parishioners are used to it.''

Apparently so. He has become so sought out that the Archdiocese of Atlanta had to give him a dedicated link on its Web site.

His popularity is a great relief to Catholic leaders here, who were not sure that having one of their priests on a radio show that made a name for itself with a gag that outed cheating spouses was such a good idea.

''We were very, very reluctant,'' said Gareth N. Genner, president of Holy Spirit Preparatory School, the school associated with Father Bailey's church. ''There was so much about the show that wasn't a good fit with our mission in terms of the content.''

(The school, in fact, does not let students listen to the whole show. Instead, they get a digital copy of the program and play the 10-minutes of Father Bailey's segment over the loudspeaker on Monday mornings.)

Father Bailey says he is careful to walk a line that entertains but does not stray from Catholic teachings, and he tones it down for Sunday Mass.

As one of just 250 black Catholic priests in the United States, Father Bailey knew he already stood out. He simply decided to use that to his advantage.

Being called ''crunk'' does not bother him, he said, because the word has evolved to mean superexcited or hyped up, not intoxicated. ''When I go to the pulpit and tell people to get crunk for Jesus, I'm not telling them to get 'crazy drunk' for Jesus.''

Still, he knows that not everyone digs his steelo (translation: style).

''I know there are some people who probably have a bad taste in their mouth and say I don't represent what a priest is supposed to be,'' Father Bailey said. Remarkably, he has heard from only three.

Mr. Genner, too, said he had heard few complaints about Father Bailey's approach.

''The only issue we heard is whether we should have been prepared to engage with Q-100 at all,'' Mr. Genner said. ''By engaging with them, we are supporting a media style which is counter to our faith.''

Their rebuttal to those concerns, he said, was that it was important to ''engage culture.''

''You can't lock yourself or your faith in a closet,'' Mr. Genner said.

And Mr. Genner said Father Bailey seemed to be reaching a population that they could not have otherwise engaged.

''We've heard from people who say they haven't been to church in 40 years who come to see Father Bailey,'' Mr. Genner said. ''There are evangelical churches in Atlanta which attract people because of their style and presentation, and I believe Father Bailey is the perfect antidote to that. He tells it to you the way you want to hear it.''


URL: http://www.nytimes.com

where in the world

is Carmen SanDiego?

Not the geography video game, but the PBS game show for kids with the annoying acappella band ...

year in review

I fully intended to post a look back at my life as lived in 2006, but instead here's a rough, belated outline:

1. started the new job at the same company, this time at the office just blocks away from my home. That means I can walk to work, making the world a safer place because I'm not driving in it.

2.  discovered that cars usually work better if you change the transmission fluid more frequently than every oh, say, 100,000 miles. acquired new car (paid in full with parental guilt bonds) that is very very cute. One good friend compares the 2007 Honda Civic to a TicTac, but I feel its design is far superior, more like a Velamint. It's atomic blue (a sky blue shade that coordinates well with its orange turn signals) and has a large digital speedometer that looks like it belongs on KITT. It also allows even the smallest nephew to become a back-seat driver. "Wow, Aunty, you're driving 45? Can you go 100?"

3. Went to new places, including Hawaii, short stays in Denver and Salt Lake City, and returned to some old ones, like Seattle.

more notes on that and other 2006 revelations in future posts. It's nearly 2 a.m. EDT and I sleepy.

solving the mystery

So tonight BJones answered the question that's troubled him since he was a wee pre-teen: what exactly was Eddie Money singing in the chorus of the 80s song "Take Me Home Tonight"?

You know the one. It goes like this:

"Take me home tonight
I don't want to let you go (something something something)
Take me home tonight
Because just like (something something)

And then a woman's voice interjects

"Be my little baby
Baby, my darlin' ... oh oh oh oh oh"

So BJones pulls up the video on the youtube so we can listen to it. JScharp discerns "until you see the light" for the first mystery phrase.

We then search online for lyrics to the song (clearly the easiest way to figure it out) but that's even more confusing.

"Because just like Ronnie says"? Who's Ronnie?

She's the interjecting woman, according to the comments. Wikipedia explains further:

"The Ronettes were a girl group of the 1960s from New York City, best known for their work with producer Phil Spector. They consisted of lead singer Veronica Bennett (a.k.a. Ronnie Spector) ... Their most famous songs include ' Be My Baby'."

"Ronnie Spector accompanied Eddie Money on the 1986 hit song 'Take Me Home Tonight'."


So it's like this song was an early form of sampling! Very interesting. Never picked up on the reference.

the redhead's show

Here's the review of the redhead's show in the CityPaper. 

 

http://www.citypaper.com/arts/story.asp?id=13247

 

Time's Arrow
Group Photography Eloquently Captures The Mercurial Glimmers Of Changes

Here's the good part:

"Ten untitled ink-jet prints from Kelly Egan's "Velocity Series" do take what Furlong sets up and translates it poetically into a still experience. These are landscapes, too--barely extant, wind-swept, flying past, vanishing as if all is essentially lost and irrevocable. They are softly beautiful and coldly worrisome, distressing and serene. "

Here are the details of the show:

http://www.goucher.edu/x15884.xml

"Wishful Re-Thinking," an exhibit featuring photography that reinterprets the idea of landscape, will be on display in Goucher College's Rosenberg Gallery from Monday, January 22 through Wednesday, March 7. The gallery is open from 9 a.m. to 5 p.m., Monday through Friday, and during scheduled events in Kraushaar Auditorium. Call 410-337-6333 for additional hours and directions.

A shocking line

This story is so outrageous ... it's like it's embedded with smaller chunks of outrage, like chocolate chips in a chocolate-chocolate chip cookie.

For example, this line:

"The authorities said Mr. Stiffler and Mr. Snow were shocked, too, and angry about being duped by an adult posing as a minor."

 
So, the would-be pedophiles were upset that a 29-year-old had tricked them into having sex with someone they believed was 12? So they are attracted to children, but weren't happy when they found out they had been satisfying their desires with someone old enough to make adult decisions?

Not that this excuses the adult-posing-as-minor from his other deeds --- including enrolling in the 7th grade at several Arizona schools --- but sheesh. I'm not sure that Stiffler and Snow get to be angry.