KEY WORDS: CANTONESE GIRLS SMOKING PANTIES

Sometimes I am surprised by what has drawn readers to this blog.
Today, for instance, these are a few of the internet searches that pulled them in:

'Free lesbian porn videos'
'Girl pipe smoking'
'Cantonese girls in panties'
'Erotic cigarette smokers in pointed bras and shiny blouses'


[There were several others, but they all had to do with pipe tobacco.]


CAPTIVE PRAWNS FROM LESBOS!

How odd! I don't think I've ever mentioned lesbian porn videos - hardly an interest of mine, and in some ways quite as boring as watching the San Francisco Giants on television - but the subject seems to excite quite a few scholarly minds. Lesbian porn videos are a constant.
Which is something I just can't get my head around.

The other three listed criteria make a lot more sense, and there might even be a certain overlap, as the categories are not exclusive. A girl smoking a pipe might be Cantonese, and would almost certainly be wearing panties - smoking in the nude, while good wholesome fun, is not common. At least not with a pipe.
And the Cantonese girl pipesmoker might be wearing a pointed brassiere too, though that is distinctly and deliciously less probable. Or a shiny blouse (with or without the highly unlikely pointy bra). This is a lovely mental picture which I shall be sure to dwell upon. Well, without the pointed bra, of course.
I doubt that Madonna-style bosom garments are comfortable or give much support.

And if anything, I am all about supportive comfort.


WEEK 

Three exciting search criteria stand out for the past seven days:

'Dimpled knees'
'Pipe smoking ladies'
"my daughter has no respect for me!"

There's a suggestion of narrative relationship there - perhaps his teenage daughter with the dimpled knees has become a pipe-smoking young lady, and has no respect for him because of his ghastly preferences in tobacco (aromatics). Or maybe the writer is herself a pipe-smoking lady whose disrespectful daughter has dimpled knees. If there is a moral, it is that dimpled knees are very much worth searching for, and aromatic pipe tobaccos should be avoided.


MONTH

One truly unique search criterium. And it's a doozy. The searcher who clicked on my link must have been sorely disappointed. Peeved, even.
Here it is: "Little virgins"
Well now. Yum.

For more, much more, of my 'virgin' fetish - fat, green, or otherwise - go HERE.
It will answer all your questions, I promise!
Might even get your mouth watering.
Not a single one of the virgins I mention are wearing panties.
And none of them are Cantonese, though I know that Cantonese like them.



NOTE: Almost all the other searches for the day, the week, the month, and even all time, had to do with tobacco and sex. There's lots of stuff about tobacco on this blog - Balkan Sobranie, Samuel Gawith, Dunhill, Drucquers, Rattrays, Gallagher - and very little about sex. Hardly anything, actually.
This blog may on occasion naughtily tempt, or even flash a chubby little stockinged gam at the unwary, but it remains, never the less, virginal.
The pink panties aren't coming off. Ever.


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ADDENDUM: October 20, 2010

Just checked today's search terms.

Interesting items:
1. 'Little Virgins'
2. 'I love Geert Wilders'
3. 'Pipe Ladies'
4. 'Nuke Pakistan'
5. 'Brevitously'

To the person looking for little virgins: Please! The ONLY little virgins a civilized man has ANY interest in are herring - matjes herring. All other virgins better be big-ass heffalumps. You will find NO little virgins - other than matjes herring - on this blog. They do not hang out here. The herring drove them off.

For the person who loves Geert Wilders, you need help. Sexual fantasies are so much more zesty if populated by normal girls.
Like, for instance pipe ladies. My fantasy is to find a petite and charming late-teenage Cantonese girl with a pronounced fondness for either medium-full English-style mixtures (Dunhill London Mixture or Standard Mixture Medium, Drucquers Levant or Trafalgar, and Westminster by G. L. Pease, et autres) OR full rich Virginia flakes from Samuel Gawith (Full Virginia Flake, Best Brown, 1792 Flake, or Bracken Flake).
Hello, Sweetie, I still have over one hundred tins of London Mixture - call me!

[Plus over two hundred tins all told of 965, Standard Mixture Medium, Durbar. And several dozen tins of various G. L. Pease tobaccos. Even some Balkan Sobranie. You and I have so much in common!]

While I grant that nuking Pakistan is a lovely idea, I fear that it will not happen anytime soon. The Indians are perfectly happy having a bunch of goat-banging heathens next door, as long as the bastards don't glow in the dark.
They'll ignore the smell - sometimes the wind blows from the East.

Re: brevitously: say what?


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NOTE: If you wish, you may contact me directly: LETTER BOX.
All correspondence will be kept in confidence.
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GETTING OVER IT: OLD PERVERT WITH LIBRARY SEEKS COMPANION

A few days ago, when I was indulging in melancholy, Savage Kitten said she hoped I would get over it soon and be all-right. She was genuinely concerned. I think she has already gotten over it somewhat more than I have, and my slowness is upsetting her.

Women sometimes do recover much faster than men. They are, after all, the stronger sex.

[No, really, they are! It's a biological factor that contributes to the survival of the species. Just look at spiders - the female is stronger, and once the male has pedipalped his sperm into the female's epigyne, he is likely to be killed and eaten. At that point he has already served his biological purpose, and rendered his acquaintance obsolete.
Plus he's NEVER going to get any juicier!]


Well, another factor is that she has already taken several months to think about matters.
While I was just happily tripping along, la la la, not a care in the world......
Kinda hit me like a ton of bricks.


But anyhow.


I assured her that before you know it, I would be back to normal. Trust me. And PLEASE don't worry. If I haven't got my groove back in several months, I'm heading out to Lowell High School carrying a cooler filled with Bubblegum Vodka and several chilled cocktail glasses - "Come here little girl, it tastes just LIKE candy!"

[For those not familiar, Lowell High School is a highly regarded academic high school with a student body comprising a greater percentage of Asian-Americans than any other high school in the city. Given that for me intelligent women who are shorter and smaller than myself are extremely attractive - I am barely over five feet eight inches tall, short by big glandular galoot American standards - and find myself intimidated by the enormous freaks from the law-offices downstairs when a cluster of big cornfed graduates of the 'MidWest Legal College Varsity Football Team And Business Law Breedingfarm' flock into the elevator, you can understand that Lowell High School symbolically functions as ground zero for normal people in my world.
Savage Kitten graduated from Lowell High School. That's a strong recommendation.]



COME HERE LITTLE GIRL, IT TASTES JUST LIKE CANDY!

Probably never gonna do that. For one thing, there are legal issues.
For another, young ladies of taste and discernment should never be exposed to Bubblegum Flavoured Vodka. That's just wrong!

Still. The idea has a certain appealing audacity.
Please imagine a sly-looking middle-aged Europäische type with a cooler, a table stacked with excellent reading material (historical novels, Russian pervs in exile, Dickens, Faulkner, and Jane Austen, further suggestions welcome), plus several comfy folding chairs, on a shaded sidewalk near Lowell high as school lets out. Welcome!

An amusing conceit, no?

Dark sparkly orbs buried deep in a book, pale delicate hands clasping a cocktail glass. A general air of contentment and literary curiosity ("will she EVER kiss mr. Darcy?"). Pretty lips pursed in concern for the future of our heroine, while anticipatorily a finger curves around the corner of the page she hasn't quite finished yet. So involved - it is far too soon to put the book down and head home. Perhaps there's time for one more drink.
Her delicate eyebrows furrow over the fate of Miss Bennet.........

Maybe I should head over to BevMo in a few weeks for some supplies.
I wonder if they also sell comfy folding chairs.


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NOTE: If you wish, you may contact me directly:
LETTER BOX.
All correspondence will be kept in confidence.
==========================================================================

DELICATE BLACK LACE GARTER BELT?

Something Savage Kitten said yesterday made me realize that I am indeed a pervert. And I’m comfortable with that, as it also clarified that I am not a degenerate.
It all has to do with clothing.

Like many men, I am a bit of a slob as regards my personal appearance. As long as I’ve shaved recently, am fully dressed, and don’t reek too ferociously, I feel confident and comfortable. Pants that aren’t raggedy or stained with coffee and spaghetti sauce, shoes that aren’t falling apart, and a clean shirt that has all its buttons – I’m good to go.

Women, on the other hand…….


Fortunately, the craze for muffin-top pants seems to be dying down, and it’s been ages since I saw a plumber’s crack on a young lady. There are still far too many girlies exhibiting their tattoos and piercings, but even that has diminished somewhat – there’s no point in showing off what an original and unique free spirit you are when everyone else also has sunburst tattoos on their rump, a rose next to their belly button, and five pieces of metal in their face.


This year’s excess is cleavage.


Blouses with such low necklines that I can see all the way down to your belly button.


What on earth happened to shirts that simply looked clean and neat?
You know, Oxford cloth. Why can’t women wear nice normal clothes? What happened to looking like a scholarly young miss or a serious young lady?

There is nothing quite so darling as a girl wearing a shirt. However it is worn, whether tucked into a pleated skirt, or casually over jeans, or even quite informally – bikini briefs, a man’s dress shirt, luscious young legs, hair slightly tousled – the effect is exceedingly feminine. There’s just something about the way cotton shirt cloth falls that makes it perfect. Twixt statuesque and huggable. Classic, and classically adorable.

Plus the fabric contrasts so very nicely with the skin!

Silk, and fine lace edging, are also in this category; they too pair perfectly with the dermis.
Wool, not so much.

Trampy thin material that isn’t opaque, while it lets all of us elderly creeps know your exact bra size, is not recommended. Deep décolletage, unless you’re trolling for desperate married men, just isn’t suitable. Not around the office, nor in the cocktail lounge.
The dress shirt, by its clean crisp appearance, suggests that there are still secrets that you keep, and hidden charms that might be discovered upon closer acquaintance. Advertising all your attributes from the outset strips you of any mystique, and suggests that there is nothing else about you worth discovering.

Like the naughty black lace garter belt, whose presence may be inferred from the way your stockings pull, your girlish cleavage and youthful curves must be covered.
A bonbon should be wrapped, not exposed to flies.

CODE PINK - CHANTING AND TWIRLING FOR FREEDOM!

Sometimes I like cruising into the Indymedia sites just to see what the hobbits are up to.
It hasn't been very productive recently, as many of them now neglect to put their announcements up - perhaps they no longer trust the big bad internet since the Jews and Masons have taken over.

But today, lucky strike!


Sunrise CodePINK:Women for Peace (RE) Commitment Ceremony
Friday January 01
6:30 AM - 8:00 AM

Sunrise (RE)Commitment Ceremony, New Year’s Day Jan 1, 2010, Ocean Beach, SF, 6:30am
Let’s begin our new year, our new decade, with an inspirational CodePINK: Women for Peace Sunrise (RE)Commitment Ceremony New Year’s Day. We will build a bonfire on the beach, sing, talk, chant, and revive our wills, fine tune our commitments, stoke our determination.

Comment: And the chanting will tell the flying saucers where to land!


Bring a log, a branch, a speck, a piece of paper, with you to this Sunrise Ceremony to throw onto the fire. Bring a blanket, your own cup for organic hot apple cider, dress warm, look for the PINK on Ocean Beach, west of Golden Gate Park!

Comment: For the cold, a fur coat or bearskin rug is probably best.
If you bring alcoholic beverages, make sure that they too are organic certified - you can tell by the soft golden aura around the bottle.


The next three months will be the MOST critical times of our lives in this country: we will get to determine if Congress grants President Obama BILLIONS more of our money to fund his proposed SURGE against Afghanistan! Or not!

Comment: We weren't succesfull against Bush and Cheney, but Obama is a wuss, and Congress is now dominated by our androids. If we lose AGAIN, it's surely because of the FreeMasons, the Bilderburgers, the Club of Rome, the Illuminati, and the Zionists.


What will WE do to ensure it is NOT? Let us (RE)commit ourselves on New Years Day, Friday, January 1st, to doing EVERYTHING in our power over the next three months – the beginning of this new decade, January, February, and March – to BLOCKING this war supplemental and thereby turning the tide of our wars once and for all.

Comment: Everything in our power includes chanting, tunnel hum, twirling clockwise AND counter-clockwise, shaking tortoise shell rattles, and pouting. We are all Medea Benjamin.


Do not worry about how, or when, or what it will cost, or whether it will work, or not. Worry about those things that are BLOCKING YOU from committing 100% to BLOCKING this funding.

Comment: Don't forget the certified organic hard liquor. It's crucial.


We will put all those reasons blocking us, from lethargy to depression to money to priorities to whatever into these logs and burn them, transforming whatever is holding us back into positive energies!

Comment: Positive karmic energy is better than electricity! And it's organic too! Wheeeee!


Call 510-540-7007 or email info bayareacodepink .org for more info, to help organize, to participate or just BE THERE!

Comment: Humm into our answering machine!


Source:
http://www.indybay.org/newsitems/2009/12/24/18633564.php


Ladies, don't forget to wear your tutus. Can't twirl without 'em.

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"By expanding our awareness and intention of holding peas, being peas, speaking peas, we give voice and power to peas...... "
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AFTERWORD

CodePink was mentioned previously elsewhere in connection with their two hour starvation per day in solidarity with tourists in Egypt - two hours entirely without food, each day, for three days this week, sitting on the sidewalk in front of the Egyptian Consulate - it's something existential or Zen, don't ask - so when I found that these dear, dear ladies of loose moorings were planning an earthmother chanting and pyromania party at the beach, I just had to smile.

Girls, I love you.
Such spotless minds.
Bonfires are very macho, by the way.

Like Frank Chiu and the Bush Man of Fishermans' Wharf, you CodePinkers are ambulatory landmarks, the contemporary equivalents of Emperor Norton.

INTERNATIONAL TOBACCONIST CONSPIRACY

A correspondent who is newly posted to the barbaric hinterlands sent a plea that speaks volumes of the primitive hickville swamp-burg where he is in exile.

Well, actually, that is not quite correct.
It really indicates that he is seriously buckling down and working, rather than off gallivanting around town with the hot hot hot shiksas.
Oh, those zesty native girls. A hardship.

He asked "how does one order a 50g tin of Dunhill London Mixture via the intertubes?"

The question establishes three things.
He is spending much time at his desk with the books.
He is running out of stuff to smoke.
He has good taste.


"How does one order a 50g tin of Dunhill London Mixture via the intertubes?"


With an excess of faith.
That's how one orders London Mixture.
Seriously, good luck. It may no longer be available.

There are several stores that do business over the internet.
I have dealt with these two:

Cup O` Joes: http://www.cupojoes.com/

PipesandCigars.com: http://www.pipesandcigars.com/



ALTERNATIVES

In lieu of Dunhill London Mixture, you might like Cornell & Diehl's Red Odessa. It has less Turkish, but is a profoundly old-fashioned style English blend.
Of course there's also the GLPease stuff - Westminster comes to mind - but that may not be what you are looking for.
[I say this because I know that you have been exposed to much of the Dark Lord's domain. If it satisfied you, you would not need to consult me.]

Other good medium-range English mixtures with a Turkish overtone are Peterson's Old Dublin, Esoterica (actually Germain's) Margate, and J. F. Germain & Sons Latakia Mixture or King Charles Mixture.
All are deliciously degenerate.

There's also Samuel Gawith's Squadron Leader - a perfect Balkan style blend, very old fashioned, nicely reeky. Bit of a broad cut, which makes it a little hard to get used to, but once you've got the rhythm of it, delightful.



ADVICE TO EVERYONE, NOT JUST TOBACCO MAIVENS

In regards to "read-testing" a blend before you buy it, tobacco reviews dot com (http://www.tobaccoreviews.com/browse_all.cfm) is a good resource, and can be very amusing, as a pipe smoker who realizes he just spent fifteen dollars on a tin of boggy sphagnum he would never touch again, even if it were the last tobacco on earth, becomes a very angry, very venomous, very eloquently foaming at the mouth critic. Such a man's review will spill out in lyric sputtering rage exactly how he feels about the heart-wrenching loss of fifteen bucks. The heavens will tremble, the earth will shake, and all the world will know of his agony, despair, and righteous indignation, by gum. He has been robbed, and he seeks justice!

Many of such reviews are seriously good reading.
You will really feel for the bereaved cheapskate.
Or resolve to rib him without mercy if ever you meet him.

==============================================

On a different note, I think I have succeeded in blending Arcadia. Arcadia is properly called the Craven A Mixture, which was formerly produced by Carrerras, and has long been unavailable.


ARCADIA

The writer J. M. Barrie was a customer of Carrerras at Wardour Street during the 1890s. His book 'My Lady Nicotine' mentions the Arcadia Mixture, which he later admitted was actually Craven A. With Barrie's approval Carrerras featured this in his advertising, thus cementing the association of Craven A with Arcadia - which Arthur Conan Doyle subsequently drove home in 'The Crooked Man': "Hum! You still smoke the Arcadia mixture of your bachelor days, then!" (Holmes to Watson upon entering the latter's bachelor digs).
[See: http://en.wikisource.org/wiki/The_Crooked_Man
From 'The Memoirs of Sherlock Holmes', by Arthur Conan Doyle, published in 1894.]


Arcadia was heavier on the Orientals than a regular English blend, though lighter on Latakia than you would assume. It had a range of Virginias for several different notes of flavour, and a touch of Kentucky ("Toasted Cavendish") to accentuate the Turkish.

Drucquer & Sons had a blend called Arcadia when I worked there in the seventies and eighties. It was quite good - very Oriental, though with a smidge too much Kentucky.
McClelland acquired a decades-old tin of the Craven A Mixture in the late nineties or early two-thousands, and analyzed it meticulously, eventually producing 'Arcadia' as part of their Sherlock Holmes series. It is decent, but it has that well-known McClelland characteristic, and to my mind far too heavy a Virginia taste.
Craig Tarler of Cornell & Diehl avers that his Yale Mixture is in fact the nearest approximation of the famous blend. I will gladly admit that I am fond of it, and will attest that it is a very fine product indeed.

But personally, I think they're all wrong. Of course.
What I have comes closest to Arcadia.

Neener neener neener. Neener neener neener. Neener neener neener.
Neener neener neener. Neener neener neener. Neener neener neener.
Neener neener neener. Neener neener neener. Neener neener neener.
Neener neener neener. Neener neener neener. Neener neener neener.
Neener neener neener. Neener neener neener. Neener neener neener.

TOBACCO INDEX


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NOTE: Readers may contact me directly:
LETTER BOX.
All correspondence will be kept in confidence.
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STOP FORWARDING MESSAGES ABOUT THE END OF THE WORLD!

Some people believe that they are truly the first ones to read about certain events. And they, they alone, are privy to the data that explains the world. These people are slightly problematic - they forward at random everything they see.



I HAVE NO PROBLEM WITH SELECTIVE FORWARDING!

But newsitems about cats, hamsters, omelettes, hamsters in omelettes, fabulous pasta dishes, dildo disasters, hamsters in lieu of dildoes, and celebrity scandals (even with hamsters and dildoes) are not my tickky.


Neither am I fascinated by the pimple on Mustafa Barghouti's arse (infected!), or the acid-indigestion of Emir Faisal (stripped his stomach lining!). Opinionation about the fine details of the paint-job on the most recent Gaza boat (powder-blue!) do not interest me.
Whether the Palestinians can be trusted to polish European knobs (superior!) in a suitably flattering way (we like you!), or the charming shininess (blinding!) of Avigdor Lieberman's smile - dos alts iz mir gonz scheiss-egal. Echt und ba-emmes!

I'm subscribed to over a dozen news services.
When Abu Mazen blinks, I get to read about it several times, for several weeks.
Same for General Motors having a bad hair day (different news services and alerts than the Abu Mazen hiccough).

What fashionista Brüno thinks about the Hijab (fabulous!), or which delicious young slut (big tits!) Silvio Berlusconi is no longer treifing..... Meh, I'll read it online. When I get to it. And if.



SPECIAL PROMOTIONS JUST FOR YOU!

The Gazet van Antwerp, the Volkskrant, and several other European newspapers seem to believe that I wish to participate in reader surveys, prize drawings, on-line competitions or Oorah Auctions (actually, that's just Yeshiva Verld and a few other institutions).
I do not wish to win the free laptop. I shall not spend ten days in Ibiza upon winning the newspaper drawing. I do not need a complete makeover, or a recommendation for a boob-job.

Nor do I believe reports that I have won a huge lottery prize. Funds in a West-African bank can jolly well stay there.

I receive identical adverts for Ahava facial cleanser and super seforim sales from several different sources, as well as stern lectures from the J4J's (plus the same sermon three times each week!) despite my complexion being stunning, my Hebrew being limited, and my belief-system being decidedly un-Christian.
Even Amazon and Alibris have gotten into the act, along with several other book sellers. Collectively, they are convinced that I am a born-again Christian sexual deviant involved in stage-productions, as well as a collector of women's watches, handbags, and sexy high-heeled shoes.

My deleted items folder receives several hundred donations every day; it's grown fat and sassy from the frequent feeding.



MY BUTT HURTS!

I'm so connected I got wires coming outta my takht; the electrical sparks are probably setting fire to my haemorrhoid pillow.
Going back to the stone age is beginning to look mighty attractive. Nice soft rocks.

At this point, all I want to read about is SEX.
And the credit histories of prospective customers.


Please send me the names and addresses of delicious yet impossibly mature teenagers, or the payment habits of businesses applying for net thirty terms.
I promise I'll read it - especially the stuff about the teenagers.
Particularly if they are feisty, curvaceous, and petite, and live in SF.

If the businesses applying for terms are also feisty, curvaceous, and petite, that too.
And ESPECIALLY if they are located in San Francisco!

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NOTE: This message is aimed specifically at a woman in Westchester County (NY), and certain "newspapers". Plus the idiot who keeps sending me cute cat stories. Miao!

PLAYING CHESS ON DECEMBER 24

In a comment-slew on Dovbear's blog, Conservative Apikoress (CA) asks:
"Is it an inyan to eat Chinese food and go to a movie on December 25?"

[Dovbear's blog: http://dovbear.blogspot.com/ ]


The posting, in case you couldn't guess, is about inyonim. You may peruse it here:
http://dovbear.blogspot.com/2009/03/finally-trump-card-reply-for-too-pious.html


The Bray of Fundie hastened to reassure CA, writing:
"No Moabite. But it is an inyan to eschew the Bais Midrash and play chess on the evening of December 24th."


Question: This inyan is well-established, especially among Jews of Gallitzianer oder Russishe ursprung. Ober vorem?

Answer: Because the Cossacks who live next door borrowed your station wagon (without even asking, gevalt!) for a crazy vodka-fueled midnight ride to Bayonne. Chess soothes the mind, and that, in its turn, contributes to the total calmness of the universe - which will also have an influence on those shikkere mechutzefim who stole your car, and thus lead to its and their safe return. To do otherwise is to virtually GUARANTEE that they smash it through the garage wall and into your kitchen. You don't want that to happen, do you? So play chess! Otherwise those drunken Cossacks might do something nasty.

Can't trust those stupid Cossacks. Might be best to move somewhere where there aren't any.

----------------------------

It's also, apparently, an inyan to eat egg salad with onions on shabbes. Gehakte eier mit tzibbeles! Echt un ba emmes!
Which does not square with associating with other people on that day - this inyan would make one poresh min ha tzibbur. And if you have no consideration for your neighbor, at least show some for your eishes chayil.

BAGELS ARE A BIO-HAZARD

When I went to the office kitchen to throw my lunch container away a few moments ago, there were bagels and cream cheese on the counter.

I tossed them out.

No, I did NOT sadistically sabotage someone else's lunch! The bagels and cream cheese had been there since yesterday morning.
Of the many super-intelligent people in this office, I may be the only one who grasps that thirty hour old cream cheese is no longer at optimum edibility.

Same with the three-day-old roast beef sandwiches.
Those had been ordered on Friday for a meeting, and had later been left on the kitchen counter for whoever needed a snack.
They were still there Monday afternoon.

Last week's bagels and cream cheese had sat on the counter from Tuesday to Friday.


I blame the environmentalists.


You see, the office has gone green, and we are supposed to be conscientious about our waste. Instead of the comforting regular trash can underneath each desk and the big black bucket in the kitchen, which happily welcomed all disposables and smelled a bit, we now all have clean blue containers for what is called "white office paper" in our cubicles. And only 'white office paper' can be put in them - we will be spoken to severely if we are discovered to be putting anything else in there!

[Every evening Igor wheels his bin around for the trash, but usually there is nothing in most of the blue containers. Nothing. He's wasting time. And it seems to depress him. He probably feels useless.]


Whatever is not 'white office paper' now has to be separated into "recyclable cans and bottles", "cardboard", "miscellaneous plastic", "compost", and "other".
Yellow sticky notes, scratch paper, lunch bags, teabags - all are 'other'.

There are three colour-coded containers for "other", and an equal number for "recyclable cans and bottles", "cardboard", "miscellaneous plastic", and "compost", scattered around the office.
It has been emphasized that if we don't put things in the correct bin, there will be grievous repercussions! Al Gore will weep Tofu tears, and the Dalai Lama will come and get you!

[There are now also TWO bins in each bathroom - one for paper towels, one for 'other'. 'Other' in this context probably means bio-hazard.]


Two or three of my coworkers do indeed worshipfully take apart their pizza boxes for 'compost' (the bottom part, which has tomato sauce and grease stains) and 'cardboard' (the top, but only if it is clean), tear the plastic out of window-envelopes for 'miscellaneous plastic' (the rest to be deposited into white office paper), and empty their used teabags into 'compost', the bag itself, with string and staple going into 'other'.
The rest of us simply trot over to the big bin in the kitchen with handfulls of our collected clutter every two or three days, or save it all in an environmentally unfriendly plastic bag, to be dumped into the overflowing public trash bin on the way to the bus.


It is all a big pain in the sphincter.


Last week's bagels were delivered Tuesday morning (Tuesday is bagel day).
Someone wrote "happy bagel Tuesday!" on the whiteboard in the kitchen.

Yay, bagels!

Not all of the bagels were consumed.

In the following days, the sign was repeatedly modified.
"Happy Chew-toy Wednesday!"
"Happy Jawbreaker Thursday!"
"Happy Garlic Ranch Pringle Friday!"
"Happy Acid Reflux Saturday!"
"Happy Comatose Sunday!"

Yet nobody threw the damned things out.

My guess is that even though everybody saw them sitting there, they didn't want to have to choose: are these cardboard, compost, or other? A rather severe sermon could result from a wrong decision! And who really wants to tell the nice sincere treehugging individuals delivering such lectures that they are chock-full of compost?

GRANT PATEL IN HIS OWN WORDS

I am delighted to see that Grant Patel, long both a bane and a blessing to this and other blogs, has decided to open his own site for business.


His personal scribblings can be inspected here:
http://grantpatel.blogspot.com/


The selection offered thus far is eclectic, to say the least.

Wednesday, February 25, 2009
Twisting your Arab knickers!
Arab female underwear.

Tuesday, February 24, 2009
Jimmy Boy in Horniman, Fort
A Parsee restaurant in Bombay.

Friday, February 20, 2009
Dutch news, or Palestinian Propaganda?
Well, I moved him to post this....
If its' berry pullao, it must be Britania!
Parsee food at the Britania.

Tuesday, February 17, 2009
Mumbai Terrorists
Hah! Damned Pakis! - A rant.

Monday, February 16, 2009
She got lace!
An exercise in obsession, in which mr. Patel waxes lyrical about miss Wong's underwear (sorry, Snooky), and demands details which miss Wong refuses to give him.


There is more. Explore at your own risk.
He claims he is unmedicated - And I believe him.