Nothing New Under the Sun

Monday, August 10, 2009

Nothing New Under the Sun

Current mood: giggly

I love that saying. So full of wisdom and words and letters. ...(trailing off)...con-so-nants and vow-els....man...such a good phrase...so wise...

"There's nothing new under the sun".

But that's just because they keep the new stuff in a cupboard, above and slightly behind the sun.

Some "New" stuff is also kept on Pluto, because it needs to be refrid-ge-rated... but most of it is in the cupboard above the Sun.

Pluto has lost some clout since being stripped of it's Planetary title, so now it's just, "The Biggest freezer in the solar system!" I don't think the change of titles helped Plutos' self-esteem much. Everytime I see old Pluto, it's the violins and ice cubes with him. I guess the solar system had to trim down in this tight economy too. They layed off Pluto. Shit, it's tough all over.

Anyway, that's where you get the new stuff. They don't tell you that in the Toll House cookie recipe...

A lot of people are unaware that there are new things and that that is where the new things come from.

(I'm so happy that I used the word "that", back to back. You don't get to do that very often and it almost sounds like you are speaking a foreign language when you say it fast. "That that". "I'd like the That-That with a side of rice and egg drop soup.

What's that? No thank you, I don't want a fortune cookie..I already know that there is a man being held captive in a Chinese fortune cookie company! Slave labor is awful, but I can't do anything about it from your restaurant, here in LA and with insufficent funds for a plane ticket to China. Also, I forgot my passport. Also, It so happens I have all my lucky numbers memorized. And it's just that I feel like I've had my fair share of fortune. I would just feel greedy taking that little cookie with all those Chinese children starving. Where is their cookie? Where is their fortune? Maybe you should send this cookie back to China.")

Oh, you didn't like that joke? It must have been the delivery.

It was born early and had apparently been suffering from malnutrition. Maybe we should incubate that joke. Maybe it was premature. A premature joke. Maybe the jokes' father was a premature ejaculator. Maybe it runs in the family.

How do you feel about that joke now? You feel bad for not laughing at it don't you?

You feel guilty now that you know how hard it was for that joke growing up.

You wish you would have laughed at him. There is nothing sadder than a joke that no one is laughing at.

That joke will be the little joke that takes his ball home from the playground to his mom crying and saying "All of the kids WEREN'T laughing at me!'

Last night I was talking to this guy called my "husband" or something.

I was telling him about my day out to the beach with my girlfriend. I told him we had had to traverse some dirt cliffs to get down to the beach.

(I love using "had" back to back, it's like getting two words for the price of three letters or like I got two portions of dessert for the price of one. I love recyclable words; so good for the environment)

He exclaims out, "Did you see any..."

And I'm thinking, here comes the obvious nude beach question...

"Did you see any dirt clods?"

Me: "Huh?"

Him: "Dirt Clods! You never hear about dirt clods anymore!...Where have all the dirt clods gone?"

Me: "What in the fuck are you talking about? Is that the new name for your band? I thought you were going with "Jesus, Mary and Joseph!" for your new folk trio, "The Charlie Sheen Sex Machine Gene" for your edgy-contemporary group and "Osmium" for your heavy metal band."

Then I'm wondering... and yelling back at him, "Is this a rhetorical question?"

Fuck! I hate rhetorical questions!...I always answer them outloud before I realize they are rhetorical.

Him: "No! You know?... dirt clods! Didn't you guys ever throw dirt clods at each other when you were kids? Dirt clod fights...didn't you grow up on the outskirts of town like me?"

(Historical note; This was before 8 year olds were issued hand guns by our society..so I guess they used "dirt clods" instead)

And then it dawned on me. The missing piece of the puzzle. His family members would always tell me the good things about him. Like how he used to get "lost" for days at a time in the encyclopedia before he was even born. They never mentioned anything about dirt clods.

*Historical note for those of you under the age of 20. Encyclopedias were like very limited computers, where the information was stored on something called "paper" in a "book" which was somehow made from a tree.

We always thought it was a vast improvement over stone tablets and carving but we didn't know what we were missing until the computer came out of the cupbboard from above and slightly behind the sun.

Anyway... back to the story

He'd get a hall pass or more precisely, a Uterus Pass from his mom and she would walk over to the bookcase and he would crawl out of her...still attached by his umbilical cord...(he seems to remember it as "like taking space walks in a library") He would pick out an encyclopedia and then crawl back into his mothers womb, put on his book light and just get lost in those books.

He says that he liked the editions where they combined all the subjects of two letters into one volume. Like H-I. Hi. High. Hi. How are you? He said he got twice the amount of information with half the work.

Which leads me back to dirt clods. The missing link. Somethymes (you can use that as an adverb or a delicious spice in your cooking...just cut that word off the paper and put it into your stew or chili)...

I think the nature of all men who have a passing interest in intelligence and a fascination with war and violence can be explained by my dirt clod-encyclopedia theory.

It's not a form of bi-polar disease, it's nature. Men are creatures that can fully appreciate the knowledge
attained through encyclopedias and the unbridaled fun and complete stupidity of dirt clod fighting.

"It's all fun and games," my husband tells me "until there is a rock in the middle of one of those dirt clods."

You know how he figured that out? Pig in a blanket dirt clod to the forehead and "that's not ketchup running down your face..."

I don't know...maybe dirt clods and little boys are just reacting to that hunter-gatherer impulse or instinct.

Sometimes, nature just wells up in them..usually as a boner after the age of 4 but sometimes in the form of an overwhelming desire to pick up a dirt clod in front of them and chuck it at the other boy playing on the dirt mound, hopefully scoring a direct hit.

I get a lot of mail telling me how lucky and special that guy (my husband) is that lives with me. "Wow, you're husband must be a really smart, special guy to have won your heart..."

Don't kid yourself...

I'm sorry, I don't mean to disappoint you, but it's not that deep.

I married him for two reasons. 1) The first time we worked together he complimented my feet. And B) He gave me my first 2,000 orgasms.

I know...you're kicking yourself right? All you had to do was find me first, compliment my feet and make me cum for the first time. And then I'd be following you around like a lost puppy.

Of course, he won me, but he "kept" me by encouraging me to have sex with other people and to enjoy it. Plus, he never beats me up when I come home afterwards. Shit, any girl worth her salt will tell you "He's a keeper!" He almost never pees in the sink. Are you kidding me? Married to my best friend, get to have sex with other people and often, I get paid for it. Priceless! Is this a credit card commercial or what?

So, to recap: How to get the girl who is like me, or is me...

1) Compliment her feet

2) Give her lots of orgasms, if possible, give her-her first orgasm and repeat as necessary.

3) Be faithful to me in heart if not penis.

4) Encourage me to be unfaithful and to enjoy it.

5) Power tools adapted into sex toys.

That is my recipe for a healthy, happy marriage. You cannot buy that kind of advice on "The View" or from "Dr.Ruth". You're welcome!

And yes! I am proud I used "her" back to back. When I write "her-her", I feel like I'm having an all girl literal, literary 3-way in a sentence. You should try fucking in a sentence. Fucking is not just for beds these days!

©India Summer thinks she just channeled Mitch and Ellen and Steven.



Monday, August 10, 2009

That last Blog

Current mood: mischievous

Man, that last blog really got away from me. It started out as a joke about dirt clods and ended up as a thesis proving that for at least right now, neither the solar system or the economy is expanding.

The jury is still out on whether the Universe is expanding or contracting. We haven't got the unemployment figures from the Andromeda galaxy yet.

Then I got to thinking how bad it would suck to be a comedian doing a routine for a room full of women. How would you know if they were faking the laughing or not?

©India Summer