Let us eat cake!

Sara and Tura woke me up this morning with a cake and a song, possibly related to my birthday. You know how it feels being woken up by a five-year old stomping on balloons? Fucking adorable, that’s how. The chocolate cake was excellent and so sweet it’ll cause diabetes in fish downstream of the sewage treatment plant.

For once I wasn’t too stressed out about my birthday, and proceeded to have a nice day with Sara at the demonstration against building high-rises on our allotment gardens (annoying GP TV autostart link) after which we drove Anna and Jan to the airport. They were running a tad bit late, and Jan informed me on the peculiarities of Gula Faran en route, seeing as I’d be driving it back. It’s funny that; In driving school I was never taught that if the outside temperature is higher than 30°C the brakes might not take and not to “rev more than 3500 rpm on fifth or it’ll downshift to fourth. Or maybe third.”

I’m not good with travel-induced stress, having missed important flights and trains and hating myself for it, and I was glad of not being at the other end of Jans phone when people already at the airport were calling and wondering where the hell we were. “We’re there!” is such a patent lie in that situation: If we were, you wouldn’t be having that phone call, now would you? My reaction might hark back to being a kid, waiting for my parents to come home from shopping, looking at the clock and dreading it would pass the time when they said they were going to be back. Not that the fears are the same, but time is a recurring theme, is what I’m getting at.

Back home, with only slightly ominous rattling as accompaniment, we had dinner and I manhandled Saras Nintendo. Super Mario Bros is still fun, although the platformer feels so much more limited than I remember it. The breadth and story I imbued it with as a kid isn’t there, replaced by an eagerness to complete the levels and find speed runs and easter eggs. Compared with how boring it feels on an emulator with keyboard, having the joypads indent my palms is all that is required to want to jump over more blocks. I am now looking for a NES.

It’s football maaaaadneeeeeees!

Outside our building there’s a football field that occasionally gets occupied by people running around in brightly coloured shorts. Last evening there was a kids game going on, and I thought I’d time lapse it. I’m sure there’s some sort of analysis that could be done on how the players and crowd behaved, but I just think it’s rather pretty with all the sunshine and ant-like behaviour.

[flv:https://monocultured.com/blog/blog_video/fotbollsmatch.flv https://monocultured.com/blog/blog_uploads/2008/08/fotbollsmatch_bild.png 640 271]

Japanese high society; getting there

I imagine that designing sex toys gets old – how many different ways of stimulating someone can you come up with? Is there an elbow-orgasmatron somewhere out there? Or a nipple-exploder? It’s all about applying the friction and pression to the same old areas, which is why someone in Japan designed this, a pink blowjob machine:

japanese_blowjob_machine.png

And even though it might be like shooting paralysed fish in a barrel bucket, here’s some Japaneese TV. Try do discern where in the social hierarchy this show and its’ contenders fit: