The Look Of Fear
Actually, It Looks Like Raw Terror, Just Not Quite So Much.
Howdy, friends & neighbors. Blogging won't necessarily be light this week, perhaps just a bit erratic.
And how's that different from any other week? Ya got me there, podner...
I ran across this picture a few weeks ago. I kinda like it. You can't really tell what the cat's up to. I mean, it could be grooming the guinea pig, but it just might be TASTING the guinea pig, and the look on the pig's face just reflects that ambiguity perfectly. Pig don't know whether to shit or scoot!
I've seen this exact same expression before, but on a person.
Way back when, a bunch of us collegiate types were doing the typical collegiate thing, namely, sitting on a grotty old couch drinking beer, and wondering what to do with the day. It was too damned nice to be in class, after all.
We were in our usual hangout, the apartment of two friends. I'll call 'em Lincoln and Miguel. As was customary for young slackers in the early '90s, we eschewed gainful employment for as long as possible, so as to extend the available hours for grotty couch sitting and beer drinking, usually paired with the TV adventures of the Tiny Toons, or the Ren & Stimpy.
We were joined by females fairly regularly, Lincoln being one of those specimens known as "Man Pretty", and Miguel and I had low enough moral character to have no qualms soaking up Lincoln's overflow.
One fine evening, our mutual friend Chainsawed (who's shown up on these pages before) brought her visiting cousin to the Den of Iniquity. This cousin, whom I'll call Teela, was from the East Coast.
Apparently, things (meaning any conceivable human activity) are Done Differently on the East Coast, and we were informed of this fact constantly by Teela. It's not that she was mean about it, or bitchy, she just had a mouth that was set to either "Drink Beer" or "Talk LOUDLY".
How many licks off the beer bottle does it take for Teela to get hammered? About 7 bottles worth, apparently. It was somewhere after starting Beer #8 that she decided she wanted to bear Lincoln's children.
Now, you can't just walk into a stranger's apartment, and drag one of the occupants back to a bedroom for a quick game of Hide the Baloney. Nope, on the East Coast, things are Done Differently, so a little subtlety is in order.
Teela snakes in behind Lincoln on the couch, and sits on the couch back while massaging his shoulders. He's been putting up with her all afternoon, he's got a girlfriend, and he's just about out of beer. He's in no mood to be trifled with by a loud brassy chick from "Norfik".
Teela continues the massage, stealthily worming her way down between Lincoln and the couch back. Soon, she's got her legs wrapped around his waist and is whispering sweet nothings in his ear. Well, she would be whispering, were she sober. That naturally loud voice of hers naturally carried out into the hallway, where the entire world heard the equivalent of a Penthouse Letters column.
Lincoln is still trying to be cool with the situation. After all, he likes Chainsawed, doesn't like making a scene, and it's almost time for a beer run anyway.
Sensing she's about to lose her grip on Mr. Chosen Sperm Donor, Teela ups the ante. With probably 7 other people in close proximity in the room, she stops the back massage, reaches around for a handful of crotch, and begins kneading it like a wad of dough.
Take a look at the guinea pig. Add a bottle of Shiner Bock to one paw, a Winston in the other, shave it down a mite, and that's what Lincoln looked like EXACTLY. He didn't know whether to shit, shoot, or go blind.
Chainsawed latched onto Teela's arm and hauled her off to the bathroom for an emergency girl-talk. She was just about mortally embarassed by her cousin's behaviour.
Lincoln and Miguel bolted for more beer, joined quickly by the others who were hanging out that day. Chainsawed begged me & the Kilted Liberal to watch over Teela, 'cause they'd "just be gone a minute, honest!"
This led to 90 minutes of a drunk East Coaster bleating "I want LINCOLNNNNN!!!!" almost non-stop, while trying to climb out the apartment's living room window. (We had moved the couch to block her escaping out the door) Fortunately, she eventually passed out on the floor, and we could finally play some cards in peace & quiet.
I'm pretty sure someone still owes me a beer or two over that episode...
Howdy, friends & neighbors. Blogging won't necessarily be light this week, perhaps just a bit erratic.
And how's that different from any other week? Ya got me there, podner...
I ran across this picture a few weeks ago. I kinda like it. You can't really tell what the cat's up to. I mean, it could be grooming the guinea pig, but it just might be TASTING the guinea pig, and the look on the pig's face just reflects that ambiguity perfectly. Pig don't know whether to shit or scoot!
I've seen this exact same expression before, but on a person.
Way back when, a bunch of us collegiate types were doing the typical collegiate thing, namely, sitting on a grotty old couch drinking beer, and wondering what to do with the day. It was too damned nice to be in class, after all.
We were in our usual hangout, the apartment of two friends. I'll call 'em Lincoln and Miguel. As was customary for young slackers in the early '90s, we eschewed gainful employment for as long as possible, so as to extend the available hours for grotty couch sitting and beer drinking, usually paired with the TV adventures of the Tiny Toons, or the Ren & Stimpy.
We were joined by females fairly regularly, Lincoln being one of those specimens known as "Man Pretty", and Miguel and I had low enough moral character to have no qualms soaking up Lincoln's overflow.
One fine evening, our mutual friend Chainsawed (who's shown up on these pages before) brought her visiting cousin to the Den of Iniquity. This cousin, whom I'll call Teela, was from the East Coast.
Apparently, things (meaning any conceivable human activity) are Done Differently on the East Coast, and we were informed of this fact constantly by Teela. It's not that she was mean about it, or bitchy, she just had a mouth that was set to either "Drink Beer" or "Talk LOUDLY".
How many licks off the beer bottle does it take for Teela to get hammered? About 7 bottles worth, apparently. It was somewhere after starting Beer #8 that she decided she wanted to bear Lincoln's children.
Now, you can't just walk into a stranger's apartment, and drag one of the occupants back to a bedroom for a quick game of Hide the Baloney. Nope, on the East Coast, things are Done Differently, so a little subtlety is in order.
Teela snakes in behind Lincoln on the couch, and sits on the couch back while massaging his shoulders. He's been putting up with her all afternoon, he's got a girlfriend, and he's just about out of beer. He's in no mood to be trifled with by a loud brassy chick from "Norfik".
Teela continues the massage, stealthily worming her way down between Lincoln and the couch back. Soon, she's got her legs wrapped around his waist and is whispering sweet nothings in his ear. Well, she would be whispering, were she sober. That naturally loud voice of hers naturally carried out into the hallway, where the entire world heard the equivalent of a Penthouse Letters column.
Lincoln is still trying to be cool with the situation. After all, he likes Chainsawed, doesn't like making a scene, and it's almost time for a beer run anyway.
Sensing she's about to lose her grip on Mr. Chosen Sperm Donor, Teela ups the ante. With probably 7 other people in close proximity in the room, she stops the back massage, reaches around for a handful of crotch, and begins kneading it like a wad of dough.
Take a look at the guinea pig. Add a bottle of Shiner Bock to one paw, a Winston in the other, shave it down a mite, and that's what Lincoln looked like EXACTLY. He didn't know whether to shit, shoot, or go blind.
Chainsawed latched onto Teela's arm and hauled her off to the bathroom for an emergency girl-talk. She was just about mortally embarassed by her cousin's behaviour.
Lincoln and Miguel bolted for more beer, joined quickly by the others who were hanging out that day. Chainsawed begged me & the Kilted Liberal to watch over Teela, 'cause they'd "just be gone a minute, honest!"
This led to 90 minutes of a drunk East Coaster bleating "I want LINCOLNNNNN!!!!" almost non-stop, while trying to climb out the apartment's living room window. (We had moved the couch to block her escaping out the door) Fortunately, she eventually passed out on the floor, and we could finally play some cards in peace & quiet.
I'm pretty sure someone still owes me a beer or two over that episode...
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