A n a r c h i c _ U n i v e r s e ®

California Kamasutra: Ask Tina

I love challenges. Linguistic challenges such as one letter L in American language and double L in U.K. English. Or, "when do I double the consonant preceding the -ed ending of a verb?"

Today, I take upon the unusual challenge of going through a series of commonly known but rarely practiced sexual positions. No photos or pictures. Just words in a Q & A format. Having lived in California gave me all this  wisdom.

--Tina, what is a missionary position?

--A missionary position is that one in which a man/woman puts himself/herself on his knees while offering a 10 K piece of jewelry to his/her significant other. The offering had better come in the colorful acqua bag from Tiffany, or else.

--Tina, what is the position "I go on top?"

--This is a very intriguing question. If a woman rides on top that means she is quite busy on the phone, at the beauty salon, shopping on Rodeo Drive, chatting with friends on line or at a café while the significant other is slaving his life away at some stupid cheap corporation, such as GE or our government's NSA.

If it's a man on top, that means he "works on-line" all day long, surfs the Net, has a ton of virtual friends and excuses for taking calls from total strangers (to his significant other) and takes a siesta from all this hard work while the partner works in and outside the house, supporting the leech.

--Tina, what is a sideways position ?

--Ah, ha! Wonders never cease. In the days baby-boomers were younger, this position meant the opposite of its meaning today to both boomers and surviving parents. Sideways means the couple sleeps with ear-plugs on, their derrières barely touching while they snore their night away.

--Tina, what does a 69 mean?

--How fascinating! I got this question in my mail box just yesterday. A 69, or a soixante-neuf, or billandmonica, isn't what people talk about or imagine. For one partner, it's the ingestion of proteins; for the other, a jetstream release of unnecessary stress. Some partners like to yell, "Flegma, shmegma!" And those do not ingest the liquid proteins.

--Tina, what is phone sex?

--Phone sex is a practice among boys and girls of all ages. If they don't have friends, they just pick United or any big company and pretend a business interest. Depending on their luck, they will achieve their goals. In United's case, remember to say loud and clear, "Agent!" if you get the robot. Maybe you are into cybersex, but robots are still not fully ready, linguistically speaking. Also keep in mind United's hubs are Chicago, Denver, Miami... Chicago is a great phone hub.

And that's all, folks! More soon, insatiable guys and gals?

Tina California Dreamin' Easter  1971 courtesy William Salvador©

Post Republished from 9/2006 Anarchic_Universe®.

 

Strange Night in the Rio Rain

I can't recall how it all started. I know it was in the days we were mostly single or divorced or whatever else. My little circle of old time friends consisted of engineers, except for a poet and translator and I, a teacher of English as a Foreign Language. Like most Cariocas we went into and out of trends. The trend at the time was very refined cachaça, sugarcane alcohol. Out of the blue we had become connoisseurs, seeking the next best cachaça.
So it happened that one night we got a call about a primo one. That was the good news. The bad news was the cachaça was with friends at the other side of town. Rubinho decided he'd go pick it up. I tagged along for the car ride.
We got to our destination, small talk exchanged, we decided to leave. On our way back, the silence in the car was nearly surreal. Rubinho wasn't one of too many words, I knew that. I am chatty but knew not what to say. Pretty soon we'd have to cross Praça da Bandeira, an area with negative altitude. The rain was pouring now. We were crossing a lake, really.

Rubinho breaks the silence with a thought that he must have been mulling in his head for quite a while. He turns to me, quite assertive, and states,

--You know, I've never had an American butthole in my whole life.

I froze. Rubinho, despite the --inho, was about 6' 4". Easy. His *** couldn't be the type Greek or Roman sculptures show in gardens. I didn't think so. Rather, I didn't want to think about it at all. My mother had always told me about how horrible their thing was when they wanted us. I found a way out. Quickly, I pointed out to him,

-- Rubinho, watch out for the hole in the road! --

That should be better than my hole, I was sure.

You know how drunks are. He averted his attention from my hole to the one in the road. Before we knew it, we were crossing the tunnel to the south side of Rio. Before we could realize it, we were at my door. I pretended nothing had happened and asked him in. By then, the booze, the excitement, the fatigue had gotten to him. I kissed him on both cheeks and he left.
At home, I undressed, prepared myself a Bloody Mary, put Lou Reed to play, lit a cigarette. Slowly, I felt sleepy, put out the cigarette and got mentally ready for the morning, when students might ask me for the words of the song I was listening to. I'd be ready.

Never Hum a Tune in a Taxicar in Rio

In my carefree early to mid-eighties, at the height of the so-called "dark" fashion in Rio de Janeiro, when I listened to Joy Division, New Order,
Killing Joke, The Alarm and in especial The Smiths, the big time American to make it in my Sony Walkman® was Bruce Springsteen.  I fell in love with his double LP and a friend gave me a cassette of the album. Oh, there was the early Jonathan Ritchman and there was Laurie Anderson, and the
Talking Heads . My friend in NYC gave me tapes of these.

I like to sing or hum songs albeit my voice gets out of tune at the third note, says Gabriel. Nicolas, my husband, can recognize what I sing, though.

(background info)I was a heavy smoker; I got away with smoking in class while I was teaching. My outfits was overalls, a T-shirt, my SonyWalkman®, my backpack, an acquired tem of practical fashion I picked up in NYC, and my Adidas shoes, royal blue with orange stripes. At night I used to hang out at a gay bar which served a delish tomato soup and drink Bloody Mary, Cochrane's. No wonder nobody ever made a pass at me ;P))

Rio de Janeiro is subject to unexpected tropical rain. This night was no different. A heavy rain fell, everybody was gone in a flash. I walked to the corner of an already deserted Botafogo neighborhood to hail a cab. To my surprise, a cab stops. The guy looked ug-leeee, scar-eee, but what the heck. A cab is a cab is a cab.

I hopped in a VW Beetle without a front seat, the cabbie asked me my destination, I gave it to him. There I am humming a song in Portuguese whose lyrics go,

"Stay with me tonight, you won't regret it, the wind outside is whipping cold, here warmth you will have."  (Where did I get this song from?)

He goes in the opposite direction. Well, I thought, a little dazed by the vodka, maybe he wants to try another route. When we are in the street of the cemetery São João Batista, he stops the car. A conversation ensues. He demands,

"Suck my c***."
"????? No, I won't"
"Suck my c***."

This went on, the pouring rain outside getting no thinner. The dialog was as repetitive as those routines in "Waiting for Godot."  Suddenly, he inquires, in a total off-topic,

"Can I take a piss?"
"As long as it's not in the car..."

My remark was nonchalant. I just sat there in the warmth of the car. He returns, says as he grabs one of my thighs wrapped under a semi-sheer white pantyhose,

"I always liked chunky white girls like you."

(Gee, thanks for the chunky. Good for me to be wearing a long sweatshirt that was supposedly a dress.) 
He adds,

"I got a Saturday Night Special in the glove compartment."

He opens it and shows me the cheap metal gun.

"Where are you going now?"

I request,

"Laranjeiras."

The SOB charges me full fare, and I let him keep the change.

Morning after it was English classes starting at seven. A double glass of cold coffee and cold milk, another cab, another day in the Cidade Maravilhosa, Rio de Janeiro, Brazil.

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SAMOHI -Sex in the Bathrooms? Cyberbullying?

I received a phone call yesterday about these horrible sex acts; later on I received a link to the list of SAMOHI-Pals, the same group that did nothing when my son was attacked in the middle of the night last year.
This is the link to the message board. Somebody copied it for me:

My child had told me that there were emails circulating around..one for the Juniors and one for the Seniors, that were graphic descriptions of supposed sexual encounters between students, along with vile descriptions and namecalling

She herself was recently sent a new one about the sophomores, that was so unbelievable, she sent it to me, and then deleted it off her computer.

It is a list of various (and all) hetero and homosexual acts that are ascribed to various students, names supplied, accusations of who has stds, replete with the N word, F word ,C word...every foul word and description possible.

What do I do?

Send it to the principal? The police?

Does anyone else know about this? Is it possible the school is so out of touch that they have no inkling that this is going on?

How do these poor students named fight against this? Shall I delete the names and send it to Samopals?

A very concerned  Mom

A Smartie Pants girl gave her Mom the printout she received in her e-mail, but destroyed the e-mail.  There goes the IP and other possible information. What there is, my son told me, is a sh*t list of students and sexual acts they may have or not been part of.

He also adds that the Knitting Circle always has to blow everything out of proportion. Please, no double entendre. For women who have had sex to go hysterical to the point of not being able to print the C word or the BF word, or the BJ word or the 69 # and so on is totally ridiculous, considering most grew up in freer days than today.

Furthermore, it's the CEO's job, and that is Dr. Hugo Pedroza, to go after whodunnit. And the job of da police and other staff on campus. My job is to make sure my kid understands he keeps his bite in his pants and his buns to himself. Follow the lyrics. We learned about this song by YELLE, "I want to see you jetstream/shoot in your apron."  There were other words foreign to me, like Krunk, but that is used in Oakland, CA.

Naturally, I am against cyber-bullying and it's horrible to see your kid's name on a shit-list published anonymously. However, this same crowd voted YES on RR, believing in SMMUSD's excellence. Live with it.  What  world do you live in?
Anyone who has seen Juno? Everyday there are links here to illuminate folks about my issues. Cybercrime is  one of them. SMMUSD is another.

Let's face it, if thirteen-year-olds are having sex in a movie, in Rio for real and I know this for a fact, in France, what would they be doing in hedonistic Santa Monica by Route 66?  Just pray for tecktonik and its asexual posture. The dirty bathrooms technique to keep SAMOHI from sexual activity seems not to have worked. Oh, well, there are other ways. Check this out. Be merry. Tomorrow will be a good day in America. My mother will be 88. She was so beautiful. A devout Catholic; if there is a heaven, she'll be there. If I were to believe in her my name is MAria Cristina for a reason. I was born thru Immaculate Conception, which makes my son Jesus. But I chose Gabriel, instead ,and life goes on. Without birds or bees, BTW. "Route 66" sending some warmer weather to my oldest links in blogging, my mentor, Seth A. owner of B12 Solipsism.  I hope Freaky Deaky is having a blast with all the snow in Freakytopia.net. He is my other oldest link in Blogsville. Have a happy evening and I hope you and I are back here for more tomorrow. Hey, I hope I am back, too.  Actually, my son says the s*t list is one dissing the black students. Hey, Obama, here's a place for you to enact some change...(I hope)

This Way, President Hillary Clinton

President Hillary Clinton was exhausted.  The elections in 2012 had given her that look of purple sagging bags under the eyes Bill had that day when - Hush!  How could she be thinking of that day in 199* still?  She had juggled a difficult path of pseudo liberal pseudo centrist pseudo - shoot! Don't!  Secret agents swarmed into the Elyptical Office.
"Go away!" Her shrill voice hadn't changed even sharing inhaling sessions with Good Ole Partner, Bill.

"Darn good job," she patted herself on the right shoulder for goodluck. He was a lefty.  She had a vision. he still made people swoon to his husky southern voice; still talking about watermelons in Arkansas. Humpft!

Power and money.  It had worked.  Even villified by her own kindred spirits, womin, she had rebuilt the US Empire.  We were now the United States of World Hillarmonia.  One world under the tenets of the Founding Fathers and some good Acts for check$$ & balan$$.  President Hillary knew how to gamble. The republic was filthy rich, pornographically wealthy to the point manned missions to space were no longer pipe dreams. Sshhuddup already.

The government had approved of endless runs for president.  If her arthritis was bad, her greedy claws could still grab what was due to the Eagle.  Palestinians and Jews had decided to follow Neva Shalom and a scroll  cleverly authenticated by all main religions had certified the need for inbreeding among the brethen of David and Ishmael.
In the middle east all females chose an Arabic name and a Jewish one.  They settled for Mirian (Mary) like the southerners settle for Lee as a middle name.  There was peace and the White Sox had won.

President Hillary swayed her wide hips dreaming "Don't Stop."  A knock on the door announced Bill himself.

" I made us reservations at the diner."  At the sound of "dine," Bill pinched her, said fine and off they went.

(End of Part One. Later.)

When a Program Is Sexy

What is sexy to a programming engineer?

Concise, obscure to all, but crystal clear to those in the know. Example: sudoku puzzles can be maddeningly hard to solve, right? Those in the know solve sudoku puzzles in seconds using SAT-based refutation engines like this one; now that's sexy computer-science simplicity, efficiency and beauty all wrapped up in one powerful problem solving tool. Abstraction skills not included.

P.S.  An engineer never says he is an engineer.

Some early morning ærobics, courtesy of Google's YouTube. They may be mapping my outhouse, but they know not what they have.  They had Two of this video. The search by song and author, if you will, as they say on CNN, gave me NADA. Rien. Zilch. GOogLe alone is not enough. Some searching skills help.

Falco - Der Komissar, lyrics here in English and German for educational purposes only. My  Summer of 1982 hit, meaning Jan. to March in Rio. Your calisthenics workout this morning.

Ta-Ta!

©Anarchic_Universe, 2007

Strange Ideas In The Middle of The Night

• What if John Waters' idea had prevailed and baby pictures came with scents? How lovely!  Cootchie-cootchie poo, pee and barf. Rotten milk.

• Can you imagine if all the announcements of "The End of the World" had been true?  Tammy Faye would have been saved many times. I don't want to think of my fate.

• It's been weeks the administration and the spooks declare there is a heightened danger lurking over us.  It must be the release of the Harry Potter book and its vile attack, shush!  Say no more.

• Maybe I must change my profile wherever I have them to Tina, aka Messalina, will do you free of charge if you leave me a comment.

• I don't want to have links to journal-blogs, neither do I need links like Revolver who never show up, never comment, and never link anyone.

• I am doomed to the Sacrilege Trilogy: B12 Partners, Freakytopia and myself.

• Although I don't blog about him, Ron Paul is a jerk selling Utopia to the rich (Bill Maher) and the young. Hello, who takes care of the poor and health care? The Statue  of Liberty?  Good joke.
• Wouldn't you have though twice before leaving your seed in that tunnel of love if you knew how fat your chick would get, and how stinky the house would be with those cloth                                                          diapers waiting for collection?

©Anarchic_Universe, 2007 photo by BPS, All rights Reserved.

I don't know if Russians eat little babies. I do know this band rocks big time.
"Teabags" multilingual -- Push the Button.  Très Kewl.

Yuna Gets a Tag

The life of an EFL teacher wasn't easy, even with hand-picked students.  Yuna sighed at the thought of one student.  He was a bright and successful shrink, strictly Freudian, he said.  No medications were needed to heal a patient.  Talk therapy was enough.  Yuna knew better than to put her two cents in a conversation about the guy's own field of expertise.

However, he was more stubborn than a mule. Or "têtu comme une vache normande."

Yuna thinks of next step.

" In addition, he couldn't hear phonetic differences or try them.  Maybe that was a professional deformity.  Shrinks have to listen to all this crapola from disgruntled patients; they don't listen to details.  They get the gist of it.

So, Dr. Bearden couldn't pronounce or replicate the different minimal pairs, such as sheet and sh*t, or feet and fit.  It was pointless to go over exercises.  It was exasperating to explain how the long [ee] is tense and the other is relaxed, like surferspeak.  He would agree, praise her, and cap it with, "I have no problem understanding English from the UK; it's Americans who pronounce everything garbled up.

Yuna would blush in anger; most Brazilians used this excuse --Americans mispronounce their own language.  Gee_wheez_Louise.  That was the toughest class in the week.  A powerful man can be dangerous, especially when he is intelligent and is failing.  She didn't think he wanted to learn English. He didn't like it.  Emotional factors play a strong role in language acquisition.  She smiled at her high level theoretical thinking.

One day, after switching back and forth from English book to drills of minimal pairs, to small talk, Dr. Bearden blurts out,

"Your problem is you are a phallic woman."  He had a Cheshire cat grin on his face.

"I beg your pardon, Charles?" Yuna was crimson red now.

"You eez a phalic woman."  And he lit his pipe, satisfied at himself.

"Could you explain what that is, Charles?" If only she carried a purse instead of a backpack.

"The counterpart of a phallic woman is the castrated man.  Freud explains it. Should we go back to the book now?"

They went back to the book. One of her favorite plays of all times.

"Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf" by Edward Albee. [ALL-bee] Martha is the phallic woman; George is the castrated man.

Now she understood a number of things. A phallic woman. Maybe that was more worthy teaching than minimal pairs could be.  Time would tell.

One in a series of Yuna stories. Comments and trackback closed. E-mail welcome. Include your URL for publication, please.

Internet Spam; One in a Series

A sheriff in a small town walks out in the street and sees a cowboy coming down the walk with nothing on but his cowboy hat, gun, and his boots, so he arrests the cowboy for indecent exposure.

As he is locking the cowboy up, he asks,

"Why in the world are you dressed like this?"

The cowboy says,

"Well it's like this, sheriff ... I was in the bar down the
road and this pretty little red head asks me to go out to her motor home with her. So I did.

"We go inside and she pulls off her top and asks me to pull off my shirt so I did.

"Then she pulls off her skirt and asks me to pull off my pants .. so I did.

"Then she pulls off her panties and asks me to pull off my shorts so I did.

"Then she gets on the bed and looks at me kind of sexy and says,

'Now go to town cowboy...'

So here I am."

Son of a gun, smart men; do they exist?

This is a fourth post today:
• links of the day
•Frank Zappa's Titties and Beer
•Education and meds; No Child Left Behind.

Yuna Works Hard to Make a Living

Yuna put in about seventy hours a week in English teaching. The US-Brazil Assn. was more of a place she could get benefits. The pay was peanuts. Before her shifts there and after she was done, she'd teach anywhere her integrity would remain untouched. Classes at Bobo Network, serving directors and technician, a hop to the hotels; tedious repeat-after-me routines her boss, who had never taught in his life, wanted her to follow. She tried to make those classes lively for the waiters and chambermaids, iliterate in their own language.

Then there were the tailored one-on-one classes for topexecs at her tiny flat. The last one was a business major pain-in-the-arse guy, Roberto. He was nosy, he was rude, he was bossy. He had decided he must learn "Streetcar Named Desire." Yuna had the play in writing and the tapes. The classes dragged on to the scene unspoken, when Blanche DuBois is alone with Stanley Kowalski while her sister, Stella, is delivering Stanley and Stela's first baby. In this scene Stanley jumps on Blanche, they fight, the lights flicker.

Roberto interrupts her, "Translate. Go on. Translate."

Yuna is a stickler. She gestures, she explains the metaphor of the light, instability. He gets closer to her. He puts his index finger on the page; insists he doesn't understand. Actually, he had never noticed before how upright and perfect her "chichis" were. He gets closer. Actually, she is not bad at all.

Yuna is nervous. The emotional bad breath of a recent divorce had left her sexless. He made her feel shaky. She insisted on Stanley Kowalski. She asked him to think of a young Marlon Brando. Animal magnetism. Sex.

Roberto insists he didn't understand. Yuna loses her cool and yells, "Rape. He rapes Blanche!."

Roberto has his hands inside her dress. He asks,

"Like this?"

She says, "NO. Stop. Don't. Stop. Stop. Don't." Her breathing is fast. She says,"Don't stop, don't stop, don't ..."

(Curtain.)

One in a series of Yuna stories.

Video

"Why Am I Surprised?"

While I was socializing, at my orthopædic doctor's office, a Mexican mom, from Jalisco, where the sing-song of Spanish is easily identifiable, told me the Pope had excommunicted all the politicians  who'd voted for the legalization of abortion in Mexico.  I need to check for that piece of news because:

In Brazil he declared the same thing.  There are two identical front pages of big newspapers.  However,  the official word of the Vatica omitted his threat.

Just click on the link inside my law school/journalism student, Gabriela Zago.

Then there are people surprised to learn Sarkozy, called by his detractors Sarkoh-fashoh, is Jewish.

I must confess I read about this two days before the election, which was on May 6.

As John Lennon would say, "So what so what, so f***ing what?"  What's the big surprise?

Take your pick.  I like the Google alerts.  You choose the subject they send you news once a day.  Très kewl? There are our delicious links , too.

I knew about this Pope from a article in the NYer.  I read it when I can.  My social life is so intense, from doctor to doctor; Check it out, please.

Mothers of the world, happy Sunday.  A cover of John Lennon's "All I Want Is the Truth."

Boys and Girls, Condoms for Both

This might be scare tactics from Johns Hopkins researchers. It is Johns, there were two of them. This news will be in its entirety in my delicious links. Tomorovski.

Sorry to break the news to you without any foreplay, double entendre meant. Both boys and girls should wear rubbers, male and female. The obnoxious HPV virus is catching up with you, boys and girls. If you practice the art of "soixante-neuf"... I guess a mouth condom is appropriate.

The price to pay for no protection is baaaaad: throat, tongue and tonsil cancer. Can you imagine? Cancer has two possible cures: cut and/or cook.

Women who are promiscuous are at a much higgher risk than those who are quiet --"you are the one" type girls.

Look for the news in the links after midnight. My delicous links, gathered by our gang of five now, come up at around midnight, great jazz song, film, Click, please.

My personal opinon is this:

flegma, schmegma.

Nite-nite!

Hollywood; Depends

The guys in Hollywood are frantic. Too much good material for next year's open season, Dick do not feel obliged to respond. In a big smoky room with a view to USC and yonder, they vociferate ideas while attentive secretaries watch for their health.

"We could have an Anna-Nicole Smith movie starring Nicole Kidman. I'll play the Texan billionaire myself."

"What a schmuck you are. Don't you know Kidman is svelte and almost eight feet tall?"

"She forcefed herself into one relationship, a crock, I say, she can do it again."

"How about the Depends© scandal? Not this one, the one in D.C. The Leak. "

"What about it? I didn't get it."

"Ah-hah, I. did it with all of them. The Leak. Depends on who's talking. A new Watergate. Depends can sponsor it."

"Now you're talking. Sponsor. Depends©. I like it."

"We could use the themes of Black History, Presidents and Valentines for a heck of a blockbuster, starring Barack Obama, Hillary Clinton, and for Valentine's Bill Clinton is a cinch."

"It Depends. Where is the Leak?"

"The Leak will be gone by then. I. will go to Kenya in search of spiritual advice. He comes back rattling on any subject. By then we will have our Watergate, with Leak sponsored by Depends©, a Jurassic-80s love affair with Depends, and this idea you had, combining all of the above seems good to I."

"To me, too. It Depends."

Happy Valentine's Day to all and to I.

Change Your Jurassic Views on Sex

I would bet some hard cash, but that's against my principles, that quite a few women wonder if their hubbies took to the habits of the two male characters in BB Mountain. There's nothing they can put their finger on, figuratively, and this change in men is so new to our society that they don't know what to look for.

It's different from looking for lipstick stains on his collar, cheap perfume clinging to his clothes, a credit card receipt to a hot-pillows motel. I'll help you, girlfriends. You'll never again sleep in doubt you lost your man to another man.

-- The closet

There is a reason for the expression, "He came out of the closet." While he is off to work and you are home alone, look at what there might be in his closet. Any vaseline, condoms, and you are post-menopausal? How about dirty magazines or a rolled poster of Superman ?

Oh-ho. Rolled poster of Superman. Maybe he is planning a move to live with the other man in your lives.

Girlfriend, don't lose your kewl. Not yet. Look into his clothes. Any female garments? What? Garters? Ummm... Anything else? The Kamasutra, and all these years you practiced missionary position...

--Please don't close the closet whining and thinking of buying a gun to send the SOB packing. There are better solutions to your problem. Revenge is a dish better eaten cold. Someone else said that before me. Look for further proof than these few items you have found. Send him not to alimony damnation before having a tight case in your hands. Let's look at his bills. Your mom always told you how silly his and hers was. Now you have it.

Now, what can this be? The Stud Motel, two hours, sixty dollars. Hunk and Tony Motel, fifty dollars one hour. Billed by Michael Bruce for services rendered on these two dates, 400 dollars. You don't want to go any further into this sinful pile. But you cannot resist. Pleasure Chest, places and names, phone numbers, all of it in West Hollywood. Oh, no!

For a couple of weeks you watch him. Yes, he is coming home freshly showered. He says incomprehensible phrases, such as ...it?...my face?, once or twice you think he muttered Georgie, Tony, or Michael. You have cried for the two weeks you watched him, you smelled cheap aftershave on him, not the chi-chi Cartier you gave him last Valentine's, indeed the last one.

Girlfriend, why shred your whole life apart for two men? Chill and co-opt is the word. Offer them the attic. You heard me. There are still another 20 years to go to pay up the mortgage. If your best friend is paying too much for her lease in West Hollywood, why not have her move over? Lizzie will be thrilled, you will learn a lot from her, trust me.

humor
sex
couples
gays lesbians
West Hollywood
How To
posted by tina oiticica harris @ 5:58 AM Reposted from BlogSpot 2006

Cicarelli Can't Shut YouTube Down

Please read carefully. No decision has been made regarding Daniela Cicarell's soft porn acquaerobic video. Her lawyer and whoever was at the audience received a partial verdict which left everyone puzzled. The two-bit shyster, a million reais a bit, decided to interpret a partial verdict and profer it as the truth all day long yesterday. He said You Tube would be shut down. By the time Globo.com published the truth, damage had been done.

In a week the judge will clarify his verdict. I have surfed the Net all morning. This video is all over the place. And so is the lawyer's version about the case. So now what's next, Daniela and beau shut down the Internet?

For all the followers of blogs and traditional media: chill. Move on. It ain't gonna happen. Google ain't paying up nottin'. Google isn't "Do no evil" anymore. Google is "Nobody shall cross me and survive."

That's what I want to write about. Other stuff, such as Bush opening my mail, medication, the arrests in Northern California of medicinal marijuana growers... Let's give the fluff a rest, and spread the truth. YouTube stays open. Cicarelli can open or close whatever she pleases.
Kitty Carslyle stays away from the ocean, but she eats fish everyday. Good pussycat, good pussycat.

Cicarelli, Honey,YouTube,Brazil

Daniela Cicarelli is a former model, still quite tasty, un avion,as the French say. The avion slang word is explained by the fact that when an avion passes, all look up. Nevermind.

A few months ago, exactly on September 18, when Daniela Cicarelli and her very rich boyfriend were caught playing "Smoke in the Water" ( and fire in the sky and elsewhere) and their torrid display of passion was made public through YouTube, many wondered whether all that was staged. She lost a few contracts, kept her job as a VJ at Brazil's MTv and sued YouTube.

Daniella and Hunny won the right to remove their liittle video from YouTube. However, in the height of the public's curiosity, each video removed would promptly be replaced. Brazilians, like the French, are quite resourceful at breaking rules or adjusting them to their needs.

Yesterday I read at about 8 a.m. EST Daniela was going pull down YouTube. Say what? The judge had decided for her because of YouTube's disobedience. As far as I know, there is no video left of Daniela and her smoke in the water. I though it all a big joke. I know how tough Google,Inc. can be. They own YouTube.

Along the day news was controversial. Shut YouTube. Shut it for Brazilians only, how unfair, they made her famous. No shutting YouTube. At nine p.m, when we came home I found out what happened.

Daniela's lawyer, who must have been a snake oil salesman in his prevous life and is training to be a used car salesperson for his next life, spread all the outrageous news regarding shutting YouTube down.

This case has been deliberated behind closed doors, both Daniela and her boyfriend are quite rich, and the judge's verdict was given only partially. The most logical conclusion would be pulling the video, and that has been done.

The confusion generated by secrecy and partial knowledge led to postponing the verdict all the way to next week.

A week will give Daniela and boyfriend time to practice more acquaerobics. It's summertime in Brazil, the beautiful beaches will always have a lurker wth a camera.

Daniela, if you think you can win a lawsuit against Google, Inc. forget it. Just try to keep your dayjob. If you think you can get your romantic video off the Internet, I hate to tell you, luv, it ain't gonna happen.

Daniela Cicarelli on work

Daniela Cicarelli on leisure

Sex, Politics and Bill Maher

There is a little liaison part between the two intestines which can get inflamed. I am sorry, but that is all I have to say about that, in my best Forrest Gump fashion. I didn't study biology or organic chemistry; I was on the engineering track in high school. I've been sick since Thursday 4 p.m. as I was going to get Naprosyn for my neck.

I saw how Bill Maher commented on a closet gay Republican, one of those who love to boast about family values. And I saw today how Bill Maher became a popular tag on technorati.com, a site on the Net which tracks what bloggers write about. But I felt too indisposed then.

Bill Maher is funny and bright. He went to Cornell, he's 51 and single, it seems. His family is Catholic and Jewish. I think he was raised Catholic. He is a left-winger, always has captivating guests, such as Rushdie last night, sometimes Susan Sarandon.

The lefties at times amaze me in the sense they really don't know that much about the role of the USA in the world. There might be too much to know. Maybe Chomsky knows it all.

There are two aspects of Bill Maher's show I dislike. First, I couldn't give a rat's ass about people's sexual preferences. Second, he does have a mean streak which kinda turns me off. Okay, he's fit. Many people are obese. How much of it is genes, how much is eating habits?

Let's be careful and keep that good will towards blue coming. Bill?Download 01_walk_on_the_wild_side_03_remix.mp3

What You See Is What You Get

I regret to inform you I will be recycling from my former blog for a while. I ahve had a problem with my left hand for a while. Three days ago I started feeling numbness at the tips of my fingers of my right hand. Monday is a holiday, so maybe I will get to a doctor on Tuesday. We got a voice recognition program and I'll see how it goes. Untill then, please enjoy two anarchic humorous stories from yours truly, Tina Oiticica Harris. Everybody is forgiven on Monday, I will be forgiven, too.

Teen Spirit

A mother, a very devout and religous mother, was in tears. Her once perfect child, now a teenager, had made the bathroom his office. Several hours of his day he spent in the bathroom practicing the old sport of wrist strengthening. She was desperate.

She told him about eternal damnation. Of hairs growing from the palms of his hands. Of his hands turning yellow. he could even grow a tail, for all she knew. Just like those characters in "One Hundred Years of Solitude," Gabriel García Marquéz's masterpiece.

She could not allow her pumpkin to be lost forever. Begrudgingly, for she didn't believe in psychiatry, she dragged little Sean to a psychiatrist. Upon their arrival, Doctor Freudstein gave both of them a benign smile, a quote of how much his 45-minute hour cost, asked her to come in first and told Sean to wait in the waiting room. Sean shrugged his stooped shoulders, sat down and stared onto the ceiling.

Mom continued sobbing as she entered the doctor's office. He asked her if she wouldn't lie down, but after getting a dirty look from this hard-core religous woman, he offered her a seat.

To no avail, Doctor Freudstein explained in all ways possible, using teaching techniques ranging from K to 12th grade, how natural masturbation was. "Heck! Even married men and women masturbate," he added. Mom's sobbing grew even louder. The doctor decided to let go of her and see the young man.

"Sean, you may come in. Ma'am, you may wait outside. Thank you, 200 dollars, check is fine." Doctor Freudstein beckoned Sean to take a seat. Sean had to remove the pods of his ears, his iPod blaring Strokes +1 type music. "Sean, I will show you some pictures. Tell me what they make you think of, okay, son?"

Sean looked at him, shrugged his shoulders, acquiescing. The word picture made him grow curious now. Doctor Freudstein had a vast collection of pictures and drawing from his latest trip to Rio de Janeiro. He had given up on using the Rorschach test since school districts had started using them for whatever mysterious reasons school districts across the country are bent on spending money and time testing kids.

The lights darkened. He showed his first slide to Sean. A drawing he himself had made of the Sugar Loaf. "So, Sean, what do you see?"

"I see two semi-circles, a higher one and a flatter one. Breasts. Breast, women, women, wank."

The doctor sighed and showed yet another slide, this time of the mountains in Leblon. "And, now, Sean?"

"This is so easy," said Sean, growing more confident by the minute. "I see two mountains. They look like bent legs, showing just the thighs. Smooth thighs, women, women, wank."

Doctor Freudstein sighed deeply. "And now?"

Sean couldn't sit still anymore. "An empty beach. Soon there'll be women, lots of good-loooking women. Women, wank."

Doctor Freudstein was at his wit's end. "This is the last one. What do you see, Sean?"

"A rock going into the ocean. It's hard and it's long. Hard and long, my member, my member, women, women, wank." Sean was radiant. The doctor was irate. Doctor Freudstein storms towards the door, opens it and finds his bombonière completely empty.

"Who ate all my caramel candies?"

"I did. I was bored, there was nothing to do," Sean shrugged his shoulder as he placed his pods back into his ears, this time to the sound of Andrew Card.

"You little wanker! Why didn't you go home and jerk off?!!!!" Yelled the doctor at the top of his lungs. He can barely hear Sean ask.

"Could you give me those dirty pictures you showed me?"

Adapted from traditional jokes. At this point, what would you prefer to find in the Oval Office? Sperm stain on the carpet or an elephant in the closet?

Photo used by permission for all blogs owned by Tina, permission expires in June , 2007©

While the USA Watched Fox, Brazil Watches A FOX

I do sincerely apologyze to my three readers: a very compassionate fellow blogger, Daddy Google, and someone in Curitiba, Paraná, Brazil.
I won't say it's e.coli but it's been as potent. The only reason I did come post in my Brazilian language blog was another potent reason: Daniela Cicarelli.

I can't believe I had no idea who she was seven days ago. Aha! In seven days God created woman and Brazilians re-created Daniela Cicarelli. Brazil is six days away from elections for president, a big job in our big sister country. Brazil's political system is a federation of states; the federal government has all the power, the states have administrative and some legislative power, but nothing like the USA.

Daniela before her quite a few days of world fame was a VJay for EmpTv Brazil. And a model, and Ronaldo Fenômeno's wife for the grand total of 83 days. She's 5'8" and her other measurements are a total Ten. Pouty lips, beautiful bubble derièrre and revamped breast, just the way you wish your momma had had them.

She and her boyfriend go to a beach in Spain, look very much in love and in lust. He gives her a third degree while they are on the sand and they walk together into the ocean.

There we see her bobbing up and down while grabbing on to him. Either she is in communication with the spirits in the sky or she is in communication with fluids in the water.

Relevant topics in Brazil. Did I say elections are in six days or did you understand erections for six days?

--She's going to dump the guy. Marry the guy. None of the above.

--It's been said she is suing everybody who published the clip. She is suing only the paparazzo who filmed it and the first distributor. She ain't suing she is happy.

--Was it really a paparazzo? Previous interviews with her publicist indicate she needed a boost, oops, I would rephrase that.

--Ford fired her. Some other publicity company fired her.

--How dirty to do it in the water of the ocean.

--How dirty to do it in front of others.

--It is illegal to do it in public places in Brazil. That was an attention-hungry lawyer, forgetting Brazil is the capital of bagunça ( mess ) bah-GOON-ssah.

--What a slut ( I wish I had her.)

--What a slut ( I wish I were her.)

The immediate result of all this is that Brazil has become number one country in number of You Tube users, overtaking Spain. You Tube had to terminate all videos of Daniela they could find, but law-abiding Brazilians just replaced those as quickly as they were brought down. I saw the video in many sites of Google Image, just type

Daniela Cicarelli

There are many photos and some URLs of the romantic soft porn video. I hope she becomes a really big TV personality so her life is easy for good. At least she slapped the boys silly with the notion women also like it.

In the meantime, I found a great video documentary BBC made, banned in Brazil, banned from the Net. I watched it, the images are haunting. It's a Google video now, you can bookmark it and see it little by little. It tells of the history of TV in Brazil, and Brazilian history, from 1955 to 1989. It shows the growth of Rede Bobo, I mean Globo, and how it manipulated a second debate in 1989 between Collor de Mello and Lula. Lula lost. Call a Brazilianist to help you out. You won't be sorry.

Did I say manipulation? Did I say TV? Did you watch Fox last night?

Bubba was pissed off, it was kinda funny to watch him be so presidential and refrain from foul language. I watched Daniela instead. Just joking. It was quite funny how this reader of a blog asks about this video and so many friends of mine are commenting they had seen a part of it, but...

Watch The Making of Rede BOBO, Number 2 in the World

Fire in the Water and in the Sky

When le General De Gaulle visited le Brésil and declared it wasn't a serious country, I guess it is to the country's benefit not to be serious or not to take itself seriously. In the realm of serious news, two candidates want to sue members of Orkut.com for platitudes. Lawyers and a respected e-newsrag analize la Daniela's sex act in the water of a beach in Spain. "In Brazil this would be a crime even if nobody were at the beach."

If Brazil were a country of Puritan heritage, such as the United States' but no, Brazil is known for how little women wear during carnaval, how fast they can be, how young kids start leaving the b