The Dangerous Existence of Madame Lee

I've finally settled on a collective name for the co-workers who sit near me and with whom I'm friendly: the Army of Darkness. (My other option was the Mole People, but I think the Army of Darkness sounds a little more chaotic and one caffeine high away from unrestrained mayhem, much like us). I see them 40 hours a week (more often during peak periods), and for no apparent reason Jessica took the liberty of showing up in my dream last night. I was at church, but then got bored and went to go smoke in the stairwell at work, and Jess joined me, whereupon we talked about pie and I was telling her about coconut cream pie. (Except in my dream, "pie" didn't refer to real pie at all but a piecrust that had the shape of a soufflé, like a giant shell, that was then filled with filling.) So I mentioned this dream today, whereupon Jess was all MMMMMMMMMM PIE for the rest of the day.

And then towards the end of the day, this happened:
Rocksan: Are we getting pie?
l33: I don't know. Why?
Rocksan: You mentioned it when you sent me that update. [I have no memory of this, but let's be honest, I probably did. I send the proofers all kinds of stupid jokes along with their updates; I figure if they're going to be faced with a heinous stinkbomb of a revision, they may as well have a laugh with it. Also, it's part of my cunning ploy to get them to like me and do their updates.]
l33: Oh, yeah. I had this dream last night that Jessica and I were smoking in the stairwell and talking about pie.
Rocksan: So we should get pie. --Hey, wait, do you smoke in real life?
l33: Not anymore.
Rocksan: YOU SHOULD MAKE US PIE.
l33: Uh, we'll see.

So for all that is right and just in life, flist, I turn to you:

( Vote! )

Godspeed, and choose wisely.

So I was bored at work today and while my thoughts were wandering, I happened to remember one of those memes where you compile a soundtrack for your life. I almost did this, but then it occurred to me that every song on that soundtrack would be Boots Randolph's "Yakety Sax" (best known as the theme to the Benny Hill Show, and guaranteed to make anything hilarious). My life is a farce, basically, so pretty much everything could be aptly set to Yakety Sax without seriously compromising the artistic integrity of the whole.

Including the sex scenes.

Especially the sex scenes.

So the sequence of events goes like this:

1.) H leaves.
2.) I watch a shitton of chanbara films as part of the healing process.
3.) I develop a stupid crush on Toshiro Mifune and will not shut up about it.
4.) I make the icon featured above.
5.) Everybody defriends me.

That is all. XD

I am not sure if anybody else will get the joke, so this is under a cut. I apologize for this, but arisha mentioned movies about the Incas, and I'd been kicking the idea around in my head for a while, so here 'tis.

( The history geeks worship me as their god )

You're welcome.

[EDIT: This would actually have been a lot funnier if I'd done Tupac Amaru, which I just might get around to doing. Tupac Inca Yupanqui beat him to my memory bank.]

To whom it may concern: I now have a new icon. I ganked the image from the best bad Star Wars fanfic ever and resized it in Photoshop, making it my most effortless icon ever. Also, I could not top the caption. I think I'm going to gank another one of the macros.

I will now find every possible opportunity to use these, and apologize in advance for this.

Back in the 1890s, when Westerners had just begun to discover the unending source of fascination that is Japan, the cheerfully scatological nature of Shinto creation myths was considered too indelicate for a general readership. To combat this problem, W.G. Aston, translator of the Nihongi (if I'm not mistaken, I believe his is the only translation in English, and let me tell you, you can get most of the information out of the Kojiki and also the Nihongi goes faster if you skip over Aston's footnotes) thoughtfully put the dirty bits in Latin. This was common practice in those days, and in the words of one commentator whose name I've forgotten, it "spurred schoolboys to feats of Latin erudition which they rarely matched in the classroom".

Having come across this delightful reminder of a simpler time, I felt the stirrings of civic duty deep in my heart. After all, as a classicist, it is my charge to bring the torch of Enlightenment to those of you not so fortunate as to know an ancient language.

As ever, this is a free service. I've thoughtfully provided the Latin text so that anyone who does read Latin can feel free to correct my translation. I've also tried to abstain from too many profanities, since the tone of the Latin doesn't lend itself to that. Ergo, if it sounds very formal and stilted, it's me being a not-very-skillful translator faithful to Aston's Latin.

( Only click if you are a mature adult who is okay with reading HOT SEXY SEX SEX SEX DIRTY BITS. Or if you're a filthy, dirty pervert. That works too. )

O BBY. Now go have yourself a cold shower and lie down after all that nervous excitement.


* I was unable to find a gloss for "postemo", but given that it contains the root "post" I think it's safe to say that we're talking about a sequence of events happening AFTER the preceding sentences. Were I not so intellectually lazy, I would have gone upstairs to get my Latin dictionary.

[EDITED per augustuscaesar's suggestion that postemo might be a typo for postremo. Tara is my one love. Also, cupiebant has been changed to "wanted" rather than "desired", since the former is a more natural word choice.]

Preliminary announcement: My domain registration just expired, so the proverbial e-mail wasn't working for a bit in there. I just renewed it and it's now back up and running. If you tried to e-mail me, or wonder why I didn't respond to your comments, that's the deal.

For God knows what reason, I keep getting these Fingerhut catalogues in the mail. I don't buy things from Fingerhut. I have never bought anything from Fingerhut, and yet they arrive regularly, every two or three months, with a biohazard orange cover and giant letters informing me that THIS MAY BE YOUR LAST CATALOGUE, [Lee's Full Name]. If I never hear from them again, I'll be surprised.

Anyway, Fingerhut wants me to take out a credit account with them (like I don't have enough credit cards I'm trying to pay off), which would be fair enough if a.) I wanted any more debt, and b.) Fingerhut actually sold anything I really want. Except I was surfing through it last night, just to make sure there wasn't anything I really wanted, and there was the greatest backyard toy EVAR right there.

Dude. AN INFLATABLE PIRATE SHIP. WITH GUNS THAT SHOOT WATER. AND AN INFLATABLE TREASURE CHEST, AND INFLATABLE PIRATE HATS.

Tragically, however, it does not seem to have been made for people the size of dethorats and me, though treyvadi could possibly still pull it off. Also, if X-chan were here with her ¾ ton pickup, we could put it in the bed and drive around, pillaging shiny new SUVs at red lights just for the hell of it. Because nothing makes yuppie scum madder than having to try and reason with you while you're wearing an inflatable pirate hat, especially if you’ve already got at least 15 or 20 IQ points on them.

We'll have to do that sometime, just as soon as I get the other credit cards paid off.

(PSA: Apparently, real piracy is Srs Bsns. Don't try this at home, kids! This has been Lee's Half-Baked Moment of Peripheral Civic Duty.)

Dear Lee,

Perhaps it would be totally bitchin' if you were to research some other tribal island society for t3h n0v3l omg, or if you were to read some nice soothing studies on acculturation instead. When you are dreaming about the Maori all night every night, there is a serious problem.

Everyone would appreciate it if you stopped.

Also, there will be no "research trip" to New Zealand, even if actual research is conducted there. You have a living to earn.

Now get up off your duff and go make dinner.

No love, and scant tolerance,
Lee

Blog carnivals turn up the neatest things. For instance, this one: Back From Yet Another Globetrotting Adventure, Indiana Jones Checks His Mail And Discovers That His Bid For Tenure Has Been Denied.

If nothing else, this ought to bring joy to the heart of dethorats, who doubtless recalls hours of our misspent youth in front of sundry action-adventure series. XD

Dear Tara,

Is it not enough to break my Firefox? Must MIE also refuse to pull up your journal as well? Oh, why must our love be so doomed? All I wanted to do was leave a comment! Angst! 3v0l! Cruelty! Woe! Misery! Suffering! Tragedy!

The comment itself was not breathtakingly profound, and was in fact to the effect of "rah rah rah you can do it go Tara go", so if you don't see it there's not much real loss to mankind there, but STILL. Why must the Int0rwebz be so cruel?!

ALL IS DOOOOOOOOOOOMED D:

♥,
l33