There's so much I want to tell you, but my desire is leavened with a real antipathy toward you all. Perhaps my time here is not unlike that of a 19-year-old girl's semester abroad -- there are so many wonderful stories I want to share, but I can't shake the feeling you can't really understand me any more. I've grown too much, matured, and have been buggered by too many dick-cheese producing European men to consider you my peers anymore.

Of course in our case, you were never my peers.

So perhaps for those reasons, or because, in the end, it's really because I'm lazy, I give you the below series of disjointed if provocative nuggets.

TMFTML has taken his wiener out of the mouths of his various NYC sycophants long enough to resurrect everyone's favorite pastime -- being incredulous at the stupidity of Tiffany Stone. I wonder, Tiffany, what accent you'd have if I knocked your teeth out with a meat tenderizer?

This weekend I watched Sahara on DVD. For those of you lamenting the death of highly entertaining, big fun summer movies, sprint to your local video store. If you need to be pitched, it's Romancing the Stoner. Matthew McConaughey and Steve Zahn are the Cheech and Chong of action movies. William H. Macy provides a delightful counterpoint and cements his position as America's Hugh Grant, sans sex appeal. If the Jews in Hollywood don't make a sequel, it's only because they're jealous of how much fun two white men can have while windsurfing on a modified wrecked airplane through the African desert. Don't understand that last line? Rent Sahara and find out.

If you're in the mood for, like, thinking. Check out The Corsair's post on the Clinton Global Initiative. Well-written, as you might expect from The Corsair, and happy thoughts for those who look back at the Clinton administration fondly. I'd link directly to it, but I'm having difficulty accessing Blogspot pages from China.

I purchased a fake Breitling Longitude for approximately fifteen dollars on Sunday, and I couldn't be more pleased with it. It feels heavy and real, looks very technical, and claims both to be "automatic" and to contain a "tachymetre" neither of which words means anything to me. I'm compelled to send it to Double Flee Dale for inspection, but, like most of what you buy here, it's terminal and I want to make the most of what time we have together. To wit: Today while gesticulating it flew off my wrist and across the room because the steel band had separated from the watch body.

One of the things you see here frequently is middle-aged honky businessmen squiring young, attractive natives around town. Yesterday, I was walking down the sidewalk behind such a pairing when my eyes drifted down to the old whitey's ass, as they are want to do while I'm far from home. His chinos were branded Faded Glory. It struck me as funny, considering, and I thought about snapping a picture. I reconsidered when I realized that if there's anything more pathetic than a 55-year-old man on a date with a 20-year-old Chinese girl who doesn't speak his language, it's a 30-year-old guy taking a picture of the white man's ass and then blogging about it.

Analogcabin @ 8:17 PM
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