THE HOO HA FILES

It's interesting listening with half an ear to what she watches on her computer, especially now that she has stopped looking at skin ailment videos. At one point she went to the kitchen to prepare herself a snack, and I became aware of an infomercial that may have been why she got up. Something about a medication or wondrous nostrum which if you stick it in your hoo ha is absorbed more effectively, and much better for you. It went on and on. Good lord, why won't they shut up about the hoo ha? Nearly ten minutes of hoo ha waffle! I didn't understand even half of it, because the sound was on too soft. But I can guarantee you that nothing on my playlist is ever interrupted for a disquisition on the hoo ha.
See, I am not the female audience.
Wrong demographic.

To the best of my knowledge, most men do not have a hoo ha.
Which may be why some men keep talking about it.
Others are startled and throw stones.


But enough about that. While I was smoking my pipe before meeting up with the bookseller for drinkies, a gentleman approached having a loud screaming match with invisible people. This was after the old codger trying to sweep the street with a dried-up discarded mop before nesting down in the entryway to a local bank. A clean bedroom is a happy bedroom, and it was, in his own way, an expression of civic responsibility.

Several German tourist families, a few familiar locals, and what was probably a marketing or sales department, passed by. Also some stoners and druggies from North Beach.

Lunch a few hours earlier had been rice stick noodles with salted black beans, garlic, ginger, bellpepper and celery, and sliced beef (豉椒牛河 'si jiu ngau ho'). Staggeringly delicious. With chilipaste. Washed down with milk tea and regular tea. I should have chau min and chau ho fan more often. Great cold weather food.

So you see we're back to the usual Tuesday schedule and don't need to stand in for New Teeth Boy. He's back. And threatening to bite people with his sparkling chompers.

Maybe screaming dude would be happier if he also had new teeth.
In any case they would put him under to install them.
With restraints possibly too.

One can but think.



By the way, entirely unconnected to any thing above, I was reading through the family tree this morning, and confirmed that indeed I do have a direct ancestor (five generations ago) named Ichabod. Born ten years before the revolution. I'm not sure how I feel about that.



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