rivercityvibe   “Puerile, smutty, schoolboy nonsense” – My Mom

I am going on vacation for a week, but will continue to blog. I will be in France, near a beach and I very much hope to emulate the experiences of Jacques Tati’s wonderful Monsieur Hulot in the funniest French film ever made, Les Vacances de Monsieur Hulot (1953). I am happy to report that youtube has come up trumps, as per usual, and I can share with you a clip. It’s basically one of my favorite films, along with Weird Science and The Empire Strikes Back:

Actually, the sort of sequel to this, Mon Oncle, may be funnier. Get them both. You won’t regret it.

Au revoir, tout le monde…….

Klum has featured a great deal on these pages, for good reason. She is beautiful, goofy and kind-of-cool, (in a married-to-Seal kind of a way). She is also unreservedly and undeniably German. Her Aryan genes were never more in evidence that at last night’s Oscars where she eschewed her usual hairstyle in favor of a plastered-down blond look that reminded me of that one girl, the Nazi collaborator, in Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade:

Ve hav vays of etc

As I look at this picture I can, ever so faintly, hear the strains of Lili Marlene….. I could almost be there….. west of Benghazi……. on Road Watch…….

Underneath the lantern by the barrack gate
Darling I remember the way you used to wait
Twas there that you whispered tenderly
That you loved me
You’d always be
My Lili of the lamplight
My own Lili Marlene

Resting in a billet just behind the line
Even tho’ we’re parted your lips are close to mine
You wait where that lantern softly gleams
Your sweet face seems to haunt my dreams
My Lili of the lamplight
My own Lili Marlene

When we are marching in the mud and cold,
And when my pack seems more than I can hold
My love for you renews my might
I’m warm again
My pack is light
It’s you Lili Marlene
It’s you Lili Marlene

I was distracted by Goldie Hawn’s MILF Rack a little during last nights Oscars Ceremony. Many people have made snide comments about her chest in the past, but I’m fine with it:

Remember, stylists, "lift and separate"

The Las Vegas Style Examiner had some catty comments to make about Hawn. Apparently someone does not like her dress. To highlight this, they added some made-up words to the usual baby-talk that passes as journalism in these circles. In this case a lady called Susan Stapleton wrote:

A couple things could have fixed Goldie Hawn’s look: some type of shapewear underneath, a bit larger dress on top so that her breasts weren’t smashed. But learn something from this look. Your chest never should look this smooshed on the red carpet.

Seriously, that’s barely recognizable as English.

[by the way, I have just browsed every photo available online of Style Editor Susan Stapleton. She is kind of hot, actually, but the way she dresses hardly gives her a mandate to criticize others in her 6th grade English. And, from what I can tell, her tits are nothing to write home about, either.]

Watching Eve Marie Saint participating in the Oscars (she’s 85 years old) reminds me of one of my top ten favorite pop songs of all times, which mentions her. It’s the incomparable Lloyd Cole and the Commotions and their seminal tune, Rattlesnakes:

Jodie wears a hat although it hasnt rained for six days
She says a girl needs a gun these days
Hey on account of all the rattlesnakes
She looks like eve marie saint in on the waterfront
She reads simone de beauvoir in her american circumstance
Shes less than sure if her heart has come to stay in san jose
And her neverborn child still haunts her
As she speeds down the freeway
As she tries her luck with the traffic police
Out of boredom more than spite
She never finds no trouble, she tries too hard
Shes obvious despite herself
She looks like eve marie saint in on the waterfront
She says all she needs is therapy yeah
All you need is, love is all you need
Jodie never sleeps cause there are always needles in the hay
She says that a girl needs a gun these days
Hey on account of all the rattlesnakes
She looks like eve marie saint in on the waterfront
As she reads simone de beauvoir in her american circumstance
Her heart, hearts like crazy paving
Upside down and back to front
She says ooh, its so hard to love
When love was your great disappointment

Rest assured, faithful,  I will be going to town on the Oscars tomorrow morning. Topics will include the utter assholishness of Seacrest, and Hawn’s milf-rack.

This is Valeria Mazza, in her absolute prime.

Congratulations

This is a young lady who is mother to four children. There names are weird: Balthazar, Tiziano, Benicio and Taina, but with an ass like that, we’ll forgive her…….

Have a good weekend, y’all.

One of the President’s key advisers has announced his intention to leave the administration:

Just easing in to the weekend…….

If you like beer, and don’t mind jogging a little, these comedians could be for you. Describing themselves as a drinking club with a running problem, the Jacksonville Hash House Harriers meet every Wednesday evening, somewhere in Jacksonville, with the express intention of running cross country and drinking beer, simultaneously. I went out with them a month or so ago. It was quite a vibe………..

For a start, they all have noms de guerre which they refer to as “Hash Names”. You have to have “hashed” a certain number of times before you are awarded a “hash name” – before that you are know just by your “nerd name”. I was known as (and referred to throughout) as “Just Joe.” The seasoned “hashers” had names like “Preteen Spirit“, “Inflate-a-Date“, “Aunt Jemima” and (my favorite) “Brown Underpants.” Many of the names went for a puerile, pseudo sexual angle (which, I like ) “Senior Spitizen“, “Crash Test Dildo” and “Cock Jockey.” It might be childish, but it ain’t for kids……..

Their runs (called trails) follow a series of what I can only call runes marked on the sidewalk in chalk. Like this:

strange sigils, portents of doom?

Now I managed to decipher a number of these over our 3.5 mile jog/run. The one that looks like BN, means “Beer Near” and the one at the top, with two circles with dots in (that look like boobs) means “show your boobs” and applies to the female contingent.

And they do.

It appears to be compulsory

The trail is designed with plenty of false routes so that those who want to actually run can go off and identify the right way. Those who want to approach the trail in a more leisurely manner, can follow on behind. Quite smart really.

The whole deal ends with a ritual circle in which songs are sung and drinks are drunk. Crimes on trail include ‘boy scouting’ (helping others), “competitive behavior” (treating it like an excuse to get exercise, rather than an excuse to drink beer), and, I think the worst crime in the Hash Rulebook “wearing new shoes on trail”. All crimes are punished in the circle by the Master of Ritual and the Grand Master of the Hash.

There’s generally some more boob flashing a this stage, too. Though the standard (of boobs) varied, I think the general feeling was that they were all welcome.

Ritual Circle and a 'punishment'

Since I started writing this I have googled “Hash House Harriers” and been BLOWN AWAY by what a HUGE DEAL it is, worldwide. They’re even on Wikipedia. Apparently our local group is the tip of the iceberg and Hash House Harriers trace their origins back to British Colonial Malaya:

Hashing began in Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia, in 1938, when a casual group of British
colonial officers and expatriates began meeting on Monday evenings to
run…… to rid themselves of the excesses of the previous weekend. This
original group consisted of four members: Cecil Lee, Frederick “Horse”
Thomson, Ronald “Torch” Bennett, and Albert Stephen (A.S.) Ignacious
“G” Gispert. J…..

After meeting for some months…….  A.S. Gispert suggested the name “Hash House Harriers” in homage to the Selangor Club
Annex, where the men were billeted, so named the “Hash House” for its
notoriously monotonous food. The final word, “Harriers,” refers to the
role of those in the chase, where the “hare”
was given a head start to blaze a trail and mark his path with shreds
of paper, and then pursued by a shouting pack of “harriers.” Apart from
the excitement of chasing the hare and finding the “true” path,
harriers reaching the end of the trail would be rewarded with beer, ginger beer, and cigarettes.

God, I like it even more now. Everyone should try it once. Like cross-dressing.  Visit www.jaxh3.com.

The new Tarantino movie, Inglorious Basterds may be the best movie ever, going by the trailer. Sure it hasn’t got Sean Penn pretending to be disabled, it’s not about a dog who dies at the end, and it sure as shit has nothing to do with Indian kids winning game shows, but it  is a war film about killing bad guys, mainly Germans.*

*coincidence. Honestly.

The legend that is William Shatner has not been featured nearly enough on these pages. This has been noted by a certain band of blood-related international desperadoes of my acquaintance. They sent their spokesperson to beg me to see reason.

So here’s the Shatman at his drily humorous best (hopefully this will rinse the taste of the god-awful Price Line Negotiator commercials from your mouths):

Next week, Leonard Nimoy.

(Joke)

I was lying in bed this morning, early, drinking tea and watching E!, when I noticed Teri Marie Harrison, a young lady who had hitherto managed to slip below my radar. She’s a former Playboy Playmate and is married to the one guy, from Sevendust.

Here she is (below) presumably modelling Uggs:

Yes, it's SFW. Don't be such a prude.

That was actually the only SFW picture readily available. The usual source tells us more about her:

Her involvement with Playboy began when her best friend encouraged her to send pictures of herself to the magazine. Although she was chosen almost immediately as a Playmate, it was a year before she was assigned a month. She was also the German Playboy Playmate of the Month, for January 2003. According to Teri, her father is German and her mother is Japanese^.

German. As per usual. It’s almost a relief…….