Spotted Richard

It seems the Welsh have submitted fully to their nanny state and its uber-PC agenda. I present to you the faded glory of Spotted Dick with its newly government-approved nomenclature: Pudding renamed Spotted Richard
Today suet pudding, tomorrow your right to breathe, I tell you.
They should have tried a compromise. You know, something a with a bit more pizazz. How about Speckled Prick or Dotted Cock?
What they settled on for an alternative, Sultana Sponge, is kinda more disgusting in a contraceptical kinda way, if you know what I mean… A bit of Sultana Sponge with heavy cream, anyone?
And how about renaming their town while they’re at it?

Dutch wives et al

Speaking of writing class, one of the earlier assignments was to write from the point of view of an object. Imagine my surprise when one of my students said she wanted to write from the POV of a “Dutch wife.”
This term actually came up in her Thai-English electronic dictionary and upon questioning her about it, I came to understand that she was talking about a dakimakura, or body pillow. I suggested she use the word body pillow, but was intrigued by the use of “Dutch wife.” You see, in my experience with the Japanese language, it basically only means a blow-up sex doll, and I didn’t even know it was used in English. Here it is, though, complete with the meaning of dakimakura listed at the top:
So I guess this is just part of learning something new every day. Also, it’s hard to get my mind out of the gutter, because THE GUTTER IS ITS HOME.

It’s a girl!

It’s a girl! It’s a girl! It’s a girl! It’s a girl! It’s a girl! It’s a girl! It’s a girl!
Nam is currently at 26 weeks, and we couldn’t be happier!
Nam’s belly is 2 weeks bigger than normal, according to the doctor… I’ll get around to taking a photo sometime.

Frak Yahoo Mail

As an added incentive to switch to something better if you already haven’t, consider what happened to my Yahoo Japan email account (used as a third backup) after I didn’t log in for four months: They deleted all my messages and declared the same would happen time and time again unless I logged in more often or subscribed to one of their pay services like broadband or “online security!”
Then, waiting in my inbox was a mysterious email saying that all of my deleted messages could be restored – for a fee, of course. This whole affair reminds me of Hotmail of olden times, except that Yahoo Mail has nothing, absolutely nothing to offer users that they can’t get more of – and in sweeter packages – elsewhere.
F ’em.

Max is being bad today

He came home from a trip with mommy and threw a tantrum so long and so hard that he finally barfed all over daddy. Then he nearly wriggled out of daddy’s arms when put in the shower. Then he fell asleep for 30 minutes, woke up in a foul mood, and bit mommy’s shoulder and wouldn’t let go.
I cannot imagine what having two will be like.

Pink Water Buffalo Photos!!

A few weeks ago, Nam wanted to buy some more maternity clothes so we got in the car and headed off to Non Kuan Chang (sp?), a nearby village with the best silk shop in the region. The shop is run by my coworker’s mother-in-law, with several looms and weaving machines on an elevated bamboo work area outside and an extension of their big house used to hold/display finished products. I took photos there the first time I visited Sarakham seven or eight years ago and need to do so again; today I’m not writing about silk though.
Max had fallen asleep in the car on the way, and since it was a cool day I just opened the car windows and parked right in front of the shop so I could hear if he woke up. I walked around looking at this and that for a while (after trying a couple traditional Thai silk shirts over the years, it’s clear that they are simply too hot for me), but eventually got sleepy. I decided to take a nap on the shiny hardwood bench on the porch while Nam and the shopkeeper did their thing. I’m not too ashamed to admit that I woke myself up by snoring and also slightly drooled on a nice shiny silk pillow. I hope it wasn’t for sale.
After Nam chose a really cool piece of mommy clothes, Max woke up and got clingy on daddy so it was decided that mommy would drive home while big sleepyhead entertained little sleepyhead in the back seat. On our way home, on the narrow village road running between the silk shop and the highway, I spotted an apparition straight out of my dreams:
He was a young male being kept by a family under their house-on-stilts. A young boy was feeding him and ran away when Nam stopped the car and I jumped out. His mother came out to see what had happened and I asked if I could take some photos. Unfortunately, I only had my phone.
The coolest thing? He was so friendly! Even though I’m pretty good with animals, I hesitate to approach ones that are big enough to hurt me and not even feel it. This big guy was really calm, though.
I’d been itching to get photos ever since the last time I saw a pink buffalo, so I was very happy. Very, very happy.

Tasty Media Links for 9/1

Ursula K. Le Guin reviews Margaret Atwood’s semi-sequel to Oryx and Crake, The Year of the Flood. Oryx and Crake was just some of the freshest writing I’d seen for quite some time and some scenes were kind of reminiscent of the Earthsea novels now that I think about it. But was it Science Fiction? Aside from Atwood’s protestations, I sure think it was – and it was SF of the best kind: The kind enjoyable by people who don’t read SF.
Roxanne Shante, the first really popular female rapper, gets a doctorate and gets Warner Music to pay for it. It’s not hard to see what they were thinking when they wrote they would fund her education for life in her contract back in the early 80’s – they thought it would never come about. Haha, suckaz! At my department, we would make the joke that she should now study for her post-doc, post-post-doc, and that other degree with platinum olive leaf clusters and tri-ringed shiny tassels.
A federal warning to beware of campers in national forests who eat tortillas, drink Tecate beer and play Spanish music because they could be armed marijuana growers is racial profiling.”