Things I Learned Today: Midgets make funny noises when they have sex

I’m not nearly as addicted to the internet and to my computer as I would like to be. If I were properly addicted I would get stuff done. I would respond to emails on time, I would update my blog, I would read other people’s blogs and I would never ignore the internet for days on end resulting in the situation we have here: blog neglect. It’s a fairly common problem amongst non-addicted people. In some cases it may manifest itself as a general lack of new posts. In other cases it may result in posting the very same blog post day after day, with minimal or no alterations.

I’m going to blame my latest period of absence on my lack of addiction, because I can’t really blame it on boredom. On Saturday M and I went to a wedding, danced very badly, drank too little wine and talked to almost no one. It was a beautiful wedding and the pouring rain didn’t really bother anyone. Neither did the freezing temperatures of 32 degrees once the rain stopped. It sure didn’t bother me, even though I was standing outside in a short skirt and nylons, because my legs are extremely weather resistant. Well, at least they are now after the amputation due to frost bite, and subsequent prosthetics.

As if the wedding wasn’t fun enough to last us an entire month, M and I went to see Pablo Francisco tonight. It was a fun show, even though he was clearly traumatized to be in Finland where it apparently is “so cold he can’t get an erection.” I dunno about that; Finnish men do just fine. But Pablo taught me many things tonight. Like for instance, cock blocking is not cool. Especially not if you’re doing it to yourself by buying a Smart Car. Also? It’s totally fine to say “nigger”. You heard it from me first. *

Things I Learned Today: Midgets make funny noises when they have sex

Golf Is A Four-Letter Word

Today is the International Day of Peace, and I figured that as a human rights advocate I should say something profound and enlightened and decidedly beauty queen inspired about world peace and everyone living together in harmony. Alas, there is something much, much more important that requires my attention. You all know what I’m talking about, don’t you? Today is Miniature Golf Day! How awesome is that?

Miniature golf is just about the best sport in the world, right after cockroach racing. It’s like golf, but for people who are in a little better shape and don’t mind walking from green to green. It’s affordable, easy to learn and contrary to popular belief, doesn’t require your own set of balls.

One thing that bothers me a little, though, is the date. Who the hell had the bright idea to make September 21st Miniature Golf Day? I bet they had never actually played miniature golf, because usually it’s done outside. I don’t know what September is like where you live, but over here it’s 50 degrees outside and it’s been raining for a week. I wouldn’t mind playing miniature golf in this weather, but I’m pretty sure the ball might float away. And I think that’s cheating. Or just good luck.

I’m a great miniature golfer. I’m short; that’s got to count for something. And I once played miniature golf in America and won. But I learned that it’s not called miniature golf over there. They’ve given it the very manly name of Putt-Putt. I actually don’t think Americans take miniature golf very seriously at all. Just take a look at this American miniature golf course:

There are all sorts of castles and shrubs and water and stuff that’s fun and nice to look at, distracting you from the game at hand.

Meanwhile, the Swedes know exactly what miniature golf is all about:

No nonsense, serious business. I’m inclined to agree with the Swedes; a sport that’s important enough to warrant an entire day dedicated to it must be taken seriously.

Happy Miniature Golf Day!

Oh, and happy International Day of Peace too. *

Golf Is A Four-Letter Word

And After All the Sweat, Blood and Tears, It Still Says "Made In China" on the Back

I was hardly surprised at all when I woke up this morning and the week had once again decided to start with Monday. I don’t like Monday. Monday is full of expectations, intentions and need-to-dos, but extremely low on energy, motivation and want-to-dos. Usually my motivation rears its ugly head around Friday, but by then it’s too late to actually do anything so I just ignore it. Friday is good like that.

One person who hasn’t been low on motivation lately is M. He’s been practicing his karate day and night, spending days and weeks and many more days and weeks away from me to reach enlightenment. And finally, after another weekend away from his sweetheart, M finally came home with the holiest of dark textiles.

M + karate = black belt

I’m living with a karate master. Suddenly Monday doesn’t seem so bad after all. I’ll just have M kick its ass. All the way to Friday… *

And After All the Sweat, Blood and Tears, It Still Says "Made In China" on the Back

334 Words About Something You're Tired of Hearing About

Recently there has been a bit of a battle going on. A battle about a mosque. When I told my American friend I was going to write about it, he said “ohh lord, not that thing again, it’s all we’ve heard about this past month.” Sadly, his reaction is the same as many others’. We tire of hearing about mosques, Koran-burning, floods, and whatever else is wrong in the world at any given point. And for that reason I will make my own take on the Ground Zero Mosque very brief.

Opponents argue that the building of a mosque near Ground Zero would be insensitive. I’m having problems figuring out who exactly it would offend. Who is so offended by the building of a mosque at Ground Zero that the Muslim community’s freedom of religion and freedom of assembly should be violated? I can only assume that people are comparing Muslims to Al-Qaida and feel that building a mosque at Ground Zero would be a kick in the face to all of America.

But I still can’t quite grasp why a mosque where Muslims worship would reflect the actions of one extremist Islamist group. Muslims are simply people who adhere to the religion of Islam. Islamists are people who add a political agenda to their practice of Islam and are by no means even comparable to Muslims. Should the entire Muslim community be held accountable for something a few extremists did? And if that’s the case, does it mean that it’s bad taste to build a Catholic Church next to a kindergarten? Because the Pope knows the Catholic Church hasn’t got the best of reputations when it comes to young boys. I’m just saying.

Everything isn’t always black and white. In fact, it never is, we threw out the black and white TV’s ages ago. In today’s world we should be able to see all the nuances, and frankly, if we can’t, we need a new set of attitudes. And probably a new TV. *

334 Words About Something You're Tired of Hearing About

The Curious Case of the Little Evil White Mushroom Penises

I’m so happy we already established I can say penis on this blog, because boy do I need to say it now. See the thing is, my lovely sister Muschu is a bit of a celebrity. Well, not exactly a celebrity, but she works with celebrities and that’s practically the same thing, no? She’s a designer and is working on the Finnish version of the TV-show Dancing with the Stars, making the outfits. Dancing with the Stars, or Tanssii Tähtien Kanssa, as it is called in Finnish, is shot in Helsinki. Muschu lives in Turku. This means that she’s had to move to Helsinki temporarily and has left her apartment in my very capable hands.

For the past month I’ve been in charge of watering the plants, sorting the mountains of mail she gets and making sure that the apartment doesn’t burn down. And this is where the penises come into the picture. I thought I was doing a good job; I sorted the mail alphabetically, never left any matches out and watered the plants, about a gallon per plant. That should be enough, I figured. And it was. It was plenty. I’m almost starting to think it was too much, because tonight when M and I went to water the plants we found that one of the plants had been invaded by a whole pack of evil white mushroom penises about an inch tall. I have no idea where they came from, I just know that they’re here now.

Let this be a cautionary tale; don’t ever make me take care of your things unless you really like little evil white mushroom penises.

I’m sorry Muschu. *

The Curious Case of the Little Evil White Mushroom Penises

Feeling Lonely? Don't Worry, Berta Is Here For You

After my little departure into politics and human rights the other day, I’m going to jump straight to the porn I promised you. Where should I start? Should I start with the stripteases? The crazy costumes? The nudity? The blow jobs? The S&M dungeon? The huge number of toys (some of which should not be used on unexplained calf pains)? The live shows? No, I think I’m going to start with Berta.

She’s a loooove ewe. She’s soft and cute and anatomically correct. If by anatomically correct you mean that she has a rear opening for a sound box that makes her go “baaaah” when you press up against her behind, and another rear opening that’s big enough to fit something more or less penis-shaped. Can I say penis on this blog? I’m not sure. I didn’t hear that annoying biiping sound they use on TV, so it’s probably okay. But if you’re below the legal limit of being allowed to handle a penis you probably shouldn’t read this. Or below the legal limit of letting others handle your penis, if you fall into that category. Anyway, Berta sort of followed me home. She now sleeps between M and I in bed, which is awesome because now I can divert M’s nightly advances and let Berta deal with him.*

For those of you who are now wondering why Ziva’s Inferno suddenly seems more like Ziva’s House of Love, I can explain it all. M and I attended Turkkusex (not safe for work, unless you work in a sex shop, in which case it’s perfect for work), an erotic exhibition that takes place in Turku every fall. We attended the exhibition last year as well, and decided that it was just the right thing to keep our delicate sensibilities from rusting completely.

We saw a number of more or less famous porn starts and performers, including Tera Patrick, Scandinavian Hunks and Bobbi Eden. A male group called the Candymen were hilarious and made me relieved I wasn’t the poor girl who had been dragged up on stage to "assist" them. I didn’t take any pictures because apparently that’s a big no-no when it comes to people performing sexual acts on stage. Imagine that. But if you click on the link up there you'll probably be able to navigate the site and find the official photos. While I was busy not taking pictures, M and I perused the wide selection of toys, blow-up dolls, leather and lace clothing and various torture devices. Speaking of which, in the Dungeon of Secrets you could get tied up and receive a good spanking for the ridiculously low price of 2 euros. What a bargain!

I didn’t get particularly dolled up for the exhibition, just a pair of stilettos, a dog collar and my trusty panda costume, but other people certainly got dressed up. We saw naughty nurses, firemen, police officers, librarians and women wearing only shoes. They were great shoes, though.

We had a great time, but I’m still happy it’s a once a year sort of thing and not more often. That panda costume is hot.

Hot.

Now I'm off to hide the porn magazine we won under M's side of the bed for M's mom to find when she comes to visit us.

*N.B. this was a joke. M doesn’t do sheep. *

Feeling Lonely? Don't Worry, Berta Is Here For You