She wants her cup of stars.

In Carlos Fuentes' Aura there's a scene in the middle of the book in which the second person narrator--so, "you,"--looks out the window and sees that "five, six, seven cats...are all twined together, all writhing in flames and giving off a dense smoke that reeks of burnt fur." And then you go back into the house and head down the hallway to fuck your boss's niece and the scene is never explained or referenced again. Well, that's magical realism for you.

This week, I think I edged closer to comprehending the complexities of gatos en fuego. I turned on my oven to roast some pecans. Suddenly, one of my foster kittens, Azuki, came bolting from behind the stove like the proverbial Chiroptera out of hell. I didn't even know there was a hidey-hole back there for him to get into. He was covered all over with a fine dusting of black stuff. "What did you get into?" I scolded. "Meow," he said.

When I brushed him off, I realized he hadn't gotten into something; the black stuff was the outer layer of fur burned to a crisp down his back. He had a slightly...sizzled odor.

So we all learned a valuable lesson. I now do headcounts when I turn on the oven, and Azuki, I suspect, will never venture near a stove again.
( are you gonna eat me? )

So as per usual we were talking about porn, the topic at hand being the website Slasher's been hired to work on. The website involves a lot of specialized fantasy-sex multimedia--literal fantasy sex, as in magical sex. drawgirl was elucidating the manifold possibilities to spacecowboytom in the backseat of the car in a perfect monotone: "You can have vampire on werewolf, vampire on fairy, vampire on elf, vampire on dark elf, vampire on succubus..werewolf on fairy, werewolf on elf, werewolf on dark elf, werewolf on..."  The three of us busily came up with various other magic-sex opportunities (centaurs, mermaids, time travelers, Ziggy Stardust, etc).

me: What about superheroes? What about like magical superheroes? Like Dr. Weird. Isn't he a magician superhero? Could you have superhero on werewolf?
drawgirl: Er...do you mean Dr. Strange?
me: Whatever. Sure, Dr. Strange.
drawgirl: (pause) Well sure, but only if he was a magic magician.
me: Oh, a magic magician? Really? Was he magic? Did the magician have some kind of magic powers that made him magical? Thanks for specifying.
drawgirl: You know, as opposed to someone who was bitten by a radioactive magician.

Alert reader blozor brought my attention to a very important consumer report from Something Awful's own Zack Parsons. Read and be informed. What's your credit like in dreams?

I'm too fucking exhausted to post anything about this weekend. Instead, have an educational PSA.

Many moons ago, your zenithblue was an orchestra nerd. A cellist, to be precise, a profoundly mediocre cellist with stubby fingers and bad nerves. But in spite of my failings I was devoted to my orchestral badge, spent lunches in the music wing of the school, hid in the practice rooms during pep assemblies, etc. My friends were almost all in either band, orchestra, or choir, and we spent a lot of time drifting down the music hallway reveling in the discord.

I no longer play the cello (and probably couldn't even whip up the stamina to play a short piece, considering the tendonitis issue). But I am still, at heart, an orchestra nerd. And I know some of you are still, at heart, band geeks, choir divas, etc. Thusly do I bring you this morning's post. Enjoy, fellow nerds.

First off is this bit I lifted from kiwikat  (thank you, m'dear). Once I was in an all-cello version of Canon in D, but by that time we were all so bitter none of us even cared. If you want to know why, see below.



Next is a radio segment from NPR's Performance Today from violist Toby Appel explaining the roles of the members of the orchestra. Anyone who's spent much time near professional classical musicians knows of the ancient hatred between the clans. Bassoonists versus piccolos. Violinists versus brass. Everyone versus the conductor. But did you know that percussionists spend all their time reading girly magazines at the back of the stage? That bassists always drive cars smaller than their instruments? That trombonists are drunks but are really good bowlers? Listen and learn.

And finally I bring you what is probably my favorite moment from the Venture Brothers thus far. An imaginary cookie if you can name that tune.

Bitchy. But funny.

http://rightwingnytimes.cf.huffingtonpost.com/

This speaks for itself:

http://www.theonion.com/content/node/48702