My Birthday party...AGAIN

Happy birthday me. This is what I sound like when I don't have anything interesting to say but I feel I should be posting something anyway. I then attempt to salvage the dull moment by adding a picture...of myself.
Yes, I've been watching Dr.House. No, this picture is not part of a plan to target the demographic of 15 year old girls who think that not eating someone is a sign of eternal love. (For those of you who don't know me any better, my eyes are brown.)

An Early Valentine's Card

Agnes is gone & I miss her. AND I just bought a Nikon D5000 which, among other things, films in 1280x720 24p on a 22mm sensor, so I convinced her to let me buy it. Then she went away to the States for two weeks & told me to send her a video to show off my new toy. So "Thrown Together Productions" does it again with Raph doing the filming this time, Peter doing the mix and an electric guitar track in the second half of the song, Getting Lucky, which I wrote the day before yesterday, on Monday in the shower, alone(which gives me an idea for my next video...)



Once again I would like to thank the Lord for the ideas He lets me get. Please, nobody tell Him how it goes to my head or I might not get too many more. :) People treat me like I'm this wellspring of funny ideas, but I swear I ALWAYS feel like my feet are touching the bottom & I'm just making the biggest splash I can out of what's left of a puddle. So thank God for His refills.

Not A Real Blog Post

Another episode in Why I Don't Blog, this month's latest excuse is because I've been busy over the Christmas/New Years season. From October & on we've been working on creating, selling & performing our Christmas show, then since Christmas we've been working on editing the footage for a DVD & trailer so we can start promoting it for next year. The "DVD" is a tedious work in progress--God bless Raph, he's been doing most of the work--but I'm gonna post the trailer which I personally had a lot more fun creating. Maybe because it was more of a low-commitment sort of project. Unfortunately, it's all in French, but it should give you an idea of what's been keeping us all busy here for the last few months.

As if people still visit this blog:
'A la Poursuite de l'Etoile' translates literally as 'In Pursuit Of A Star', but more properly as 'Following a Star'. It's the story of two children; a poor boy (Patric Ross) who is sad because he won't be getting any presents for Christmas, & a rich girl (Heloise Verger) who is so rich she already has all the presents & gifts she could ever want & has nothing to look forward to for Christmas. They both wish on a star to be able to find Christmas cheer. A magical singing doll (Benedicte Ross)& her wishing star (Agnes Verger) offer to guide the children to a treasure which, if found can be theirs for free, but is worth more than all the money in all the world. The treasure has been hidden to protect it from the evil & selfish Mr. Jagadin Shmoole (Me), who discretely if not clumsily, stalks them in their song & dance journey which takes them around the world where they both experience & share the magic & happiness of Christmas...

Dancers & extras: Angelique Verger, Celeste Verger, Christophe Verger, Olivier Verger (Technician)& Rachel Angus.

Is "Awesomest" a real word?

Thrown Together Productions
presents
a Weekend Activity entertainment.

Music, lyrics, performance & video editing by MEEEE...Camera work by Angelique, the little sister of Agnes, to whom this song is dedicated.

Special thanks to Patrick, for his little nylon guitar, Celeste & Angelique for...the props & everybody who cooked, did dishes & watched the kids while I sat around scheming & creating.

Oh yeah, & everyone that passed by & giggled at my work, giving me faith to persevere.

I'd also like to thank God & my mother...nah, just kidding. But seriously, if I don't give the Lord His credit He might not grant me another one (& I REALLY want another one.) PTL.

Offensive Showbiz

I'll admit I've had wittier posts. I'm not sure why I thought this was funny. I guess the moral of the story is: When you're tired go to bed, don't go to your computer & try to blog.

Disclaimers & Apologies

...opening with a pic of me from our trip to the beach. I was playing with the sand & Agnes didn't want me to burn my scalp so...hence the cute red thing. I would have included a pic of her too except she was now topless.

Ok, on with it now. First of all I should say that EVEN I don't believe EVERYTHING I say, so don't feel like I necessarily NEED you to agree. Sometimes it's just to make you laugh. Sometimes it's just to take this piss out of you or get frenzied feedback & comments on my blog.

That said, I should confess a thing or two about myself (specifically regarding my post on "Women Talk" below):

Although you'd THINK that at my age I'd know how to flirt maturely--with poetry, song & a suave manliness, I'm still a bit of a 10yr old boy on the inside & all I KNOW how to do is tug on the girls' ponytails & pull up their skirts. Sorry, that's all I got.

Now, add to that that MOST of girls I want the attention of are mothers. Doesn't making a harmlessly offensive assessment of their social practices seem like a brilliant solution for someone in my position? It's how one thinks outside of the box when the box is the very thing you're thinking about...so to speak.

Women Talk

Disclaimer: I have already been informed that this is probably one of the worst pieces I've ever written, but feel free to pile it on. Oh, & any resemblances the characters in this article may bear to specific REAL people (beside myself) are a pure coincidence of stereotype. (Full disclaimer coming in a future post.)

We have a small dining room in our kitchen so it often happens that I’m doing the lunch dishes while the girls have their tea/coffee time &, especially when we have other girl visitors, the girl-talk conversation INEVITABLY wonders to a conference of pregnancy/childbirth testimonials. It’s like a time of feminine solidarity, a bonding activity that brings together women of all ages & walks of life & unites them around this common adventure that they, either have or yet will, embark upon toward the propagation of humanity.

Now I’m not one of those guys that turn green & leave the room at the mention of…you know, mucus plugs, bloody tampons, un-dilated cervix' & tearing... To the contrary, as long as it’s not housewife gossip & soap operas, I find MOST forms of girl talk quite fascinating because you get to hear how girls relate to other girls (it’s almost educational). And honestly, what girl TRIES to make herself sound grosser than she HAS to be in her own story? Truth be told, I’d sooner overhear that than a two hour discussion on cars & sports.

Now, at first I used to think it was normal & natural that if you’ve spent nine months with a perfect stranger in your tummy & then spent the better part of a day squeezing it out of a hole that was pretty much just designed for sticking things INTO, you WOULD have a tendency to want to talk about it a lot at any opportunity & to anyone who will listen. Granted.

But, you know, you do lunch dishes often enough & you start noticing strange conversational patterns recurring. For example, in most NORMAL conversations the comments are triggered by the previous comments, right? Whether it’s contradicting it or agreeing, answering or denying, adding information or adjusting it with a different objective, every contribution is built on the preceding ones, & we call it a conversation.

NOT SO with the preggy talk, no. When mothers converse (or should we say “air their collective experiences”) one of them will go on for as long as seems polite & then let the next girl have a go & so on. And when it’s her turn again she’ll simply continue her story where she left off, like episodes of a TV series that have nothing to do with the other series other than sharing air time on your TV. At least that’s how it SUPPOSED to work! Cuz when one of them ACCIDENTLY slips back into a normal conversational pattern (& some of them do that a lot), her contribution is immediately resented & she won’t get invited to tea next time.

Yes.

For example, if girl number three says, “I was in labour for a whole day!” & then girl number one or two (who just HAD their turn) adds, in a normal conversational manner, “Oh that must have been terrible, I was in labour for 36 hours, so I know how it feels…” the unspoken energy in the room will be “Hey, what’s with that? Despite the shroud of sympathetic pleasantry, you’re just cutting in the queue to trump MY story with your extra 8 hours & undermine my degree of martyrdom! Wh…why would you do that? Why?”

Not that it actually MATTERS because, according to my theory (which is still in the refining stage), they’re not even actually LISTENING to the other women’s story. No, while ONE of them is talking, what the rest are ACTUALLY doing is keeping tabs on the windows in the conversation. You know what I mean? When is the appropriate time to cut off the current speaker & who’s turn is it to do so? Does the one speaking feel that she is getting sufficient respect & support out of our time together or should we ask little questions about her story to show interest & help her feel that it’s all about her?

It’s a delicate balance that many men may never understand or fully appreciate, but it serves a double purpose. Firstly, not listening to the other’s stories allows them, as I said, to concentrate on making this time satisfying & mutually rewarding for all the pain, nausea & sacrifice that has wrenched each of these women out of the cocoon of girlhood into motherhood through one or more traumatizing experiences. Secondly, if you KNOW the other girls aren’t listening to your story, well then it means it’ll be JUST as exciting when you get to tell it to them again tomorrow.

But that's just a dishwasher's theory.

Happy Birthday Agnes

I had this other post all ready to submit to my blog, which I was gonna do today when I realised that I hadn’t posted in SO long that if I finally DID post on Agnes’ birthday it should probably be about her. Posting for people on their birthday is not really something I’ve ever done, but according to Nicole, it’s starting to be considered bad cyber manners. And one’s girlfriend seems to be as good a person to start with as any. So the other post’ll just have to wait.

What I like most about her is her very particular brand of being feminine. It's everything a father should warn his son of, but in a good way. She lets me be the stronger sex & just when I feel I won, I get this feeling like I'm a kid whose teacher just tricked him out of not standing in the corner...I need to feel strong & she lets me. And that takes incredible strength. She has strength to serve when I wish she'd just come & be lazy with me. She lets me rant when I'm angry & when I've outdone myself she says, "Ok Michael, now stop being silly"...& then it stops. She's the reason I have a passion about the things I do & why I so want to succede, cuz when she's proud of me it makes everything all better. So I need to be VERY careful about which photo I put up here or I'm not getting ANY tonight.

Recession-proofing your lifestyle!

Money is like women: Everyone wants lots of it & even though no one really understands how it works, if you can grasp some basic principles, it’ll make your life a LOT less complicated. And did you ever notice that those who get some are often the ones who ALREADY HAVE some? Then there’s the misconception that if you keep groveling they’ll eventually put out, but maybe that’s what Jesus was talking about when He said (referring to money & possessions), “Make the kingdom of God your priority & all these other things will be added to you!” ‘Cuz in reality, it’s only when you start getting interested in something else that they feel they need to start flaunting their stuff.
This recent recession might be like a bit of a dry spell for you, or maybe you were NEVER much of a Don Juan with Lady Luck & Mistress Mammon (ancient god of money) who, ironically seem to enjoy flashing their goodies but never let you touch. Well, here are a couple tips that might really slap’em where it hurts.
Faith. We are finding that that’s ALL our economy is made of! Just like women seem to be able to smell a lack of confidence, all this fear & media-hype about recession is probably half its cause! In our enlightened, God-independent, sophisticated culture we’ve opted for a faith that we could see, hold in our hands & stick in our wallets—a religion upon which we could all agree & which could unite us. Fairy tales & superstition is for the children, right? And now we’re finding out that those pieces of paper for which we slaved & all those one’s & zeros we put our faith in were but a hoax devised by the economic high priests who have the masses high & horny on Viagra credit & worshipping in their commercial temples.
What fools these mortals be!
Hope. We need to start putting our eggs in different baskets. We don’t want to make financial mayhem but there must be other ways to invest our time, energy, passion & effort. Are we really living life? Do we spend time to help our neighbor—to let him know you’ll be there in hard times & to know that he’ll be there for you? When was the last time we thought about the value that lies in a child—so busy with the next paycheck that we’ve forgotten the hope of our future?
Love. Here’s how women are NOT like money: Everybody needs love. It’s what everybody’s dying for. Money is the dead math made to fill the void in the heart of every boy AND girl--& the God we forgot about is waiting for a chance to fill it with the power of love that made the universe. He’s trying to flirt with YOU & get YOUR attention & He’s kind of hoping that after getting screwed over by Mammon, you’ll give Him a second chance to win your heart! He sent Jesus to give His life to pay for the greatest gift a lover could give: eternal life together, with joy & love & no more fear. He’s ringing the doorbell of your heart & waiting for you to answer. He’s on one knee waiting for you to say “yes”. Won’t you do it now?

Whither Shall I Go?

‘Cuz I know that a lot of people are wondering what the hell we were thinking.

It’s a classic Family Song by “Ruth Selah” inspired from Psalm 139 (verses 7-9 particularly), used to be my dad’s favorite & was consequently one of the first songs I ever learned to play on guitar (at the tender age of 8) with it’s simple, basic chords (D, A & Em) second ONLY to “I’m In Love With Jesus” (with it’s even LESS demanding chord structure of D & A).

WHY, then, would we deliberately go out of our way to complicate the chords, muck up the melody & throw this minor gimmick all over the place? I‘ve gotta say, it DID used to be this sweet sort of song about how the Lord will always be there beside us no matter what we go through, so HOW does Metanoya get off turning it into this distressful sounding song like we always seem come out with?
If you weren’t already asking yourself this question, I’m sorry for ruining it for you.

However, IF you’re a more purist appreciator of Family classics, probably thinking that that’s the just only kind of music we know how to make, or we just wouldn’t think it was cool if we couldn’t put a semi depressive twist on a song regardless of what it’s about (no doubt due to some negative spiritual influence we’re being oppressed by) THEN you might find this explanation interesting:

If you look at this passage, as I said above, as a sweet reassurance that God will always be there beside us as a support & comforter, then the rather disturbed feeling we put into the arrangement might seem quite inappropriate. But what I was trying to portray in our rendition was the story of a soul who was TRYING to flee God’s presence. There have been times in my life when I just WISHED God’s voice would shut up & give me a break—you know, when our Heavenly Father sometimes comes across as a nagging mother? But He had mercy on me & wouldn’t let me go.

I am humbled by the thought of some who have gone before me, better men than I, who fell by the wayside of God’s blessing by straying from His Will. And I can only thank the Lord that He has not yet let me weasel out from underneath the crushing millstone of the conviction of His Holy Spirit.

Read the chapter again in this light & imagine toying with the prospect of descending into the depths of the sea, making your bed in hell & thinking that the darkness could hide you. Then realizing that wherever you run there will always be...that voice.

Suggestive Rhyme

I was going through some archives on my computer & found this old poem I wrote. You kind of have to read it out loud & with the right rhythm or it doesn't work.

When a word's well rhymed
It can play with your mind
And plunge you in wild reflection
If I fail to tame it
I beg you to blame it
On my relentless, throbbing er...upting headache

My art, don't diss it.
If you find it explicit,
Well, that's just the difference between us:
I don't deserve
To be labled a perve
For exibiting my short, hardy p...oem

You, however
Have issues to wether
Your head is outlandish & corny
And you're getting all fired
And a little bit wired
Just 'cause I'm so helplessly hor...rible at rhyming

Unto the pure
All things will be pure
Like those eggs they're eating at China
But thay can't say it's wrong
To be more turned on
By your wife's hot, waiting v...ery yummy spaghetti

My verses have style
They've made people smile
I recite them for parties & guests.
They suck, but who damns?
It works well with the fans
I get blown by the ones with large b...lades

Happy Birthday Me

33. When I turned 30 I swelled on the glorious realisation that I was at the age of Christ when He started His ministry. The sky was the limit & there were no Alps...

Now I'm at the age where Christ died.

EVEN HE had done it all by the time He got to where I am now & HE didn't even have an email address. I guess the way to look at it would be "33, the age at which Christ conquered death". Now all I have to do is find something approximately as impressive but maybe more within my talent range. Any Ideas? My Dad suggested AVOIDING death. Good one, good one. Anyone else?

Levons Nos Verres

It's way better if you view it in HD (Press play & then mouse over the button all the way on the right. There'll be a drop up menu. Select "HD"). I'm still trying to figure out how to get decent quality results for non HD videos on YouTube, but for now...enjoy?

For a little-closer-to-decent quality ckick HERE

The Room

For whoever wanted to see this: here it is

Why I don’t Blog: Christmas season tends to keep me busy

The most recent reason I don’t blog (or, haven’t been blogging) is because we’ve all been working on our Christmas show-- preparing for most of November & then perform here & there throughout December. It’s basically a re-take on last year’s show with mostly the same costumes, props & songs plus a couple additions-- most noticeable of which is Rachel who came from Spain & has been a big blessing. I’ve been giving her tips & ideas for choreography & stuff which I’m sure has really helped her a lot too. :D (I am SO gonna get hit for that.)

Since Celeste & Angelique have been super busy with school 10 hours a day it’s a very good thing that Rachel was here to work on stuff while they were away. They have to fit their word time, dinner time & dance practice into what’s left of their day & then go to bed early & then work all weekend. So God bless them, they’re going to be wiped out come Boxing Day. But that’s how we keep them out of trouble.

Of course we (Agnès & myself) had to make another set of costumes for Rachel, cane & swanky hat included. I get why she gets so much crap on her blog: she’s a very special person with qualities that would make people jealous AND, at the same time, she’s lots of fun to tease-- ESPECIALLY since we have officially decided that she’s Irish (for PR—the French love anything Irish).

As for me, I don’t do much on stage, I mainly stick to lighting & changing backdrops. But I’ve been working a good deal on the music tracks & helping Bénédicte re-arrange the outline of the show, adding fill music where needed etc. I’ve also had to get down to producing music without Peter, which I HAVE done before but I’ve always ran it past him to fix up & mix down. So that’s new & I’m not always sure with the same results.

Thankfully Oli is around to do all the technical stuff when it comes to show time—all the electronic stuff, sound engineering & setting up. Oh, yes: we figured out the most efficient way to pack all our equipment & props into the smallest vehicle space. Good times.

We stole the “Lord of the Dance” theme music & mixed it with the old French Christmas carol which was adapted into English as “Blow the Trumpet & Beat the Drum” & they do the whole Irish tap-dancing thing to it. The French just love that sort of thing.

The response has been overwhelmingly positive, praise the Lord, most likely due to our lineup of hot girls plus my witty use of lights & smoke… No, seriously I’m good. Oh well, it MIGHT have SOMETHING to do with all the collective work, prayer & sacrifices we’ve put in as a home to make it work & the Lords Spirit which makes everyday like Christmas.

Does Funny=Sexy?

Not to look stupid or give off the impression that I know absolutely NOTHING about women, but I’ve been sworn to that women find funny sexy. This is very disturbing for me & I’ll tell you why. I am now forced to face one of several choices:

1) It’s a lie. Maybe they just SAY that in case they start laughing when the guy drops his trousers “No! Funny is SEXY…” (If this is the right answer then this post is a waste of your time. Please leave a comment to inform me so & then surf off somewhere else)

2) And THIS is the one that keeps me up at night: I’m not even NEARLY as funny as I think I am.

3) Being ugly trumps being funny. (And THAT would hurt a LITTLE.)

4) My personal favourite: All the women I know have an IMPRESSIVE gift of self-control. Yes, the giggling is all they can do to keep from tearing my clothes off with their teeth.

And all along I thought humour was just a defense mechanism. Well, in light of this soul searching dilemma I will be of few words. If you’re a woman who knows how it works or a dude who knows how it doesn't work, please enlighten us with your feedback.

Dispising the Shame

Another thing you'd probably expect to find on my blog.
I've lived on a shelf just for myself & I've made merry
And I have tried to seize the coolest breeze that could me carry.
Compromise had shut my eyes when I thought I was bluffing,
Fool, instead of folding I was left there holding nothing.
Those that jeered & sneered is what I feared & most respected,
But now I've chosen God, & their applaud I've have rejected.

Chorus
Now I'm despising the shame,
That I receive in His name.
And aye, they call me profane,
I'm called by his name.
We're the same.

Verse 2
I will take this cross unto the lost & I will wear it,
The fire & the frost, I count the cost & I will bear it.
And I will bear the scorn that He has borne so undeserving,
As they call me the bastard of the Master that I'm serving.

Bridge
He is no fool who gives what he connot keep,
To gain what he cannot lose.
I dare to bear the wrath with they,
Who live to laugh another day.

Defining "Pervert"

Just when I was wondering if I’d blogged about everything I could blog about, it was brought to my attention that the definition of “pervert” could use some consideration. It is a word that you get slapped with at a moment when words are the LAST thing on your mind. It seems to be the downer that follows certain types of brief euphoric experiences.

Random example, just to make sure we’re all on the same page here: A woman wearing a low cut top bends over & reveals what kind of bra she is NOT wearing. For a few moments (at least, I THINK it’s just a few moments) time slows down to where it SEEMS like an HOUR & all sounds go muffled. We spend some time thanking God for semi-photographic memory & then maybe, I don’t know, we start wondering how, if gravity would glitch temporarily & start going on-off-on-off-on-off really fast, what kind of visual effect would incur. (The reader is begged to appreciate that this is as close to “getting the heavenly vision” as some people will ever GET. Thank you for your comprehension.) THEN the lovely creature stands up, looks you straight in the eyes with her own bewitchingly beautiful brown…BAM! All goes blank. You don’t REALLY mind the stinging on your left cheek SO much because you’re a little too busy being confused about the sound resonating in your still functional ear. “PERVERT!” (End of random example.)

As a man with a driving & powerful Internet connection I tend to revert to just looking words like this up. It’s usually pretty simple. There are plenty of good dictionaries out there, written by clever people who should know ALL ABOUT these sorts of things. This SHOULD be EDUCATIONAL! If THIS is how women see me, I--I definitely want to know what it MEANS!

Definition number one: A noun. How nice, I suppose that fits me so far. A person who practices sexual perversion YOU WISH…

Or…I wish? Or I wish that SHE’d wish that I…never mind.

Definition number two. Also a noun. A person who is perverted. WHAT? How did she KNOW? Granted, as Jeremiah said, the heart of man IS DESPERATELY wicked, sure. Who can know it? But hang on a sec. Perverted from what? (Jer.9:17) Put it this way: IF I WAS as pure as the birds of the air & the beast of the field, FRESH from the creative hand of our loving God, I would have found that wench grazing under a tree, taken her from behind &, quite probably, pumped her full of every ounce of masculinity which her naked form could inspire from me.

So, what EXACTLY is she saying? Was that an accusation for my unnatural practice of denial? Well then, she would have done well to slap me harder. Maybe I would have snapped out of it & given it to her. She SHOULD be on her knees with a praise on her lips that she’s not on her knees with something ELSE up her lips.

Definition number three. (Yes, still a noun.) ”A person who has a perversion.“ Ah, okaaay! Well, well, well. I’ll tell them what I told that impertinent bottle of beer that tried to call me an alcoholic just for LOOKING at it. I said (and don’t get me wrong, I normally NEVER talk to beer bottles) “If I’m a pervert for looking at YOU…then that makes…YOU a PERVERSION!” Yeah, suck one that one for a while whilst I go re-drape myself in the garments of my long lost dignity. After an entire post-pubescent life in demoralising condemnation, it was THIER fault all along.

Unless, of course, they meant it in the imperative form, according to definition number four, as a verb instead of a noun. But IF that IS what you were saying, then it behooves you to be more faithful to PUT THE STRESS ON THE SECOND SYLLABLE. Like this: per-VERT. Get it? Per-VERT. Not PER-vert. Ok? Ok. Were they trying to tell us “to pervert” or to “stray morally”? Perhaps they’re invoking this command in the hopes that…we’ll eventually take to gawking at porn…or sheep? Or other men? I’m grasping for other logics to explain this possible alternative use of the word—EVEN though I already KNOW that looking for logic is supposed to be one of “the big No-Nos” when trying to understand women.

Oh wait. There’s another option: Is it, I dunno, POSSIBLE that this reproachful outburst could be the women berating THEMSELVES for their own dirty little thoughts? Nah? I didn’t think so.

So that brings me to the part of the post where I invent some new definition that makes everything fit together. I was going to re-categorise it as an interjection, “denoting embarrassment at being caught inducing sexual intentions in members of the opposite sex” blah, blah, blah. But you know what? This word already HAS several, perfectly good, definitions. It’s not the fault of the English language that the woman whose skirt just flew up suddenly starts blurting out words she doesn’t know the definition of. Is it? Invent your OWN word.

OR just try to be HAPPY that guys still look.

Water. PTL!

When the Elerian were introduced & everyone was acquainting themselves with this new Elvish-named, horse embodied spirit help, I got down to the business of making sure that the guardianship of my revolutionary flame was all taken care of & properly initiated. The home I was visiting at the time was holding some personal prayer time during one of their devotions for this expressed purpose & everyone was doing that “pen & notebook thing” & it was promising to be very exciting.

You know how “the Lord works in mysterious ways” & all? Well I was having a really hard time getting anything &, although hearing the ten (or more) pens of the other fluent channels in the room scratching eagerly away WASN’T helping me focus any, the REAL problem was that I needed to use the facilities rather urgently. Mysterious, huh? So I took my pen & paper off to the appropriate chamber & started double tasking. And, as if Gods ways were not ALREADY past finding out enough, I was presented with THE NOISIEST plumbing condition I have ever had to concentrate under. (Of course, at this point I was, understandably, mistaking this for Obsticon’s handiwork.)

Yes, this story IS actually going somewhere. And no, desire for blog feedback has NOT driven me to toilet humour.

The water was trickling into the overhead cistern with all the enthusiasm of a rainstorm praising God on an empty oil drum. The piping piped its content as if fitted with whistles in every joint. Then some other apparatus, which I yet believe to have been located within one of the walls & whose domestic use I still cannot fathom, would sporadically sound off like some sort of fog horn on a ship full of Russians. Don’t ask, just imagine & sympathise.

“Jesus!” despairingly I cried over the torrent & din in my head, “Reveal the name of my Eleria to me.” But water is all I could hear. Water, water. “Water”? Everyone ELSE’s names were gonna be Greek or Latin sounding with Anglophonic similarities & interpretation. And I was there like “Water”? It’s 2004 & everyone wanted to live in Rivendale with pointy ears! Come on. I was in BIRMINGHAM for heaven’s sake! I was DEFINITLY expecting something more Tolkein-esque.

But look what I get:

“My name is Water Eleria. You may have been expecting a more fantastic name but this is a name you can understand.”

(Yeah, no offence taken.)

“Just like your body would stagnate without fresh water, cleaning & washing away the old poisons, so it is with your spirit. Imagine yourself as a toilet, a useful vessel I’m sure you’ll agree…”

Given the nature of the “secret closet” I occupied, I had to concede.

“Don’t try to go on without the water of God’s Spirit of change that I am here to bring otherwise your usefulness could be significantly compromised.”

Nasty "unflushed toilet" visual springs to mind from years of faithful JJT service.

“What was food yesterday must be replaced by what God has for you today. So keep up with the changes & be refreshed daily, hourly or WHENEVER the enemy comes in with self-contentment & complacency.

Complacency is worse than shit! Shit is a sign of change, at least: that your ‘B’ is ‘M’ing. Complacency is like CONSTIPATIONS! Drink in the water of the Word which I have volunteered to bring to you personally. Please.” (End of message)

I guess Jesus just knows what I need?

Defining "Slut"

Not actually as simple as it seems because, despite the dictionary definitions, in SPOKEN English it’s use is pretty subjective. One dictionary definition of “slut”: A dirty, slovenly woman. See what I mean? It’s almost like we’re talking about a different word here. I say the problem is that “slut” is a “Woman Word”; which is to say that, like MANY words women use, it doesn’t MEAN, it EXPRESSES—in this case, mainly a sour grape frustration.

For example, you happen to know, from experience & hours spent naked in front of a mirror, that your breasts are your strong point. They’re what give you a head start on most other girls. They are your plan A & maybe even D. Your favourite clothes are the ones that put this “best foot” forward & God has tilted the scales in your favour. All your male friends know that that is 100% woman & they are reminded of it every time you walk in the room.

In this scenario, we can only IMAGINE your disgust when Satan invents the padded push-up bra! Yes, the degrading, artificial apparatus for the desperate & insufficient. The cunning vixen already HAS nicer legs than you, for God’s sake WHY did she have to steal your breasts? How unfair is that? It’s not that YOU CAN’T wear one too. It’s just that YOU DON’T & people need to KNOW THAT! Don’t men deserve to be warned when they’re being cheated? How does one retaliate against such lying trickery?

Aarrgh! The hormones rush to your head & a strange sound begins to hiss in your mouth & then slips out. “Slut!”

It’s like cracking your knuckles. It does this funny noise, feels good at the moment & makes pointing the finger so much more refreshing.

Here’s a more interesting definition, definitely closer to how it’s usually used: “A person, especially a woman, considered sexually promiscuous”. So basically, “Slut” is the feminine form of “Stud”? Yup, someone who has an easy time getting members of the opposite sex into the sack. But, I’m sorry, you’ll INSTANTLY notice the absence of that almost ENVIOUS tone that accompanies “Stud” when you hear the snide pronunciation of “Slut”. Because of this OBVIOUS connotation difference, this is not a definition that reflects the true message of this poignant word.

Reportedly, it’s meaning is distinguished from “bitch” by the following subtle nuance: A “slut” is a girl who sleeps with everyone, a “bitch” is a girl who sleeps with everyone EXCEPT you…Now, while that’s insightful to human nature, it’s not at ALL helpful with defining the word in question ‘cuz the poor girl doesn’t EVEN HAVE TO GET THE GUY INTO BED in order to earn this title! Maybe it’s just because she wears short skirts…or make-up? Or discreetly uses her upper arms to squeeze her breasts together when she laughs…KIND OF UNPREDICTABLE, really.

Hey! You’ll notice that “slut” is ONLY EVER used BY WOMEN--with the exception of men who have recently discovered they aren’t as special as they thought they were. (Cough--women--cough!)

“Yeah, sure, when she was having sex with ME, she was hot. When I find out she’s doing EXACTLY the SAME thing with someone ELSE, suddenly she’s a slut!” A more textbook example of hypocrisy could not be conjured. Deflated male ego kills testosterone, apparently giving way to surges of estrogen or some other feminine hormone inspiring pouty accusations.

Others use it as a synonym for “whore”, apparently forgetting that, what MAKES a whore a whore, is that she gets PAID—not usually the case with “sluts”. The very reason “slut” is almost spoken with a spit is that she’s UNDERCHARGING, undermining the market: like…like giving away free tacos just across the street from a Mexican restaurant. The resentment in the competition is that they will need to LOWER their prices to stay in business. So THAT definition’s no good either.

But it almost points us in the right direction. The USE of this word almost says MORE about the person who UTTERED it than it does about the person it was aimed at. Let’s try this definition on for size:

Slut: A word used by one woman to describe other women who will do promiscuous things she --for reasons practical, social or imaginary--won’t do.