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April 30, 2003

So. Much. Stuff.

We have only one request: do not even think about dying until you have visited the bazaar quarter of Istanbul. We would put money on the fact that we have seen more stuff today than you've ever seen in your whole life (unless you've been there already). And it rocked.

After passing through several times as a tourist or tour guide for friends, Girl-E made a decidedly outcome-based trip to the Grand Bazaar and surrounds this afternoon. It's kind of like a first date - it takes a lot of psyching up in advance, but if you meet your objectives by the end of the evening it is well worth it. What with the current slowdown in tourism, the shopkeepers will practically lie prostrate at your feet begging you to do them the honor of taking one of their hand-carved backgammon sets back to your beautiful family. Smirk, and they drop $10 off the price of your belly dancing costume. Some of the shit's real nice though, and we pity the fool who is too overwhelmed by the salesmen's attentions to go through with a purchase. And if you happen to know Girl-E, no, her new "Prada" handbag is not real, but she just dares you to tell the difference. Copied straight from the 2003 catalog, bitch.

While Girl-E tends towards leather, woven, and ceramic goods, the following is a partial (very partial) list of what she could have bought in one square kilometer (yeah, our globetrotting has turned us metric):

Gold jewelry, soccer jerseys, silver jewelry, loofahs, glass jewelry, dried figs, oil lamps, pashmina scarves, chessmen, dried meat, tobacco hookahs, peanuts, batteries, every kind of fabric, plastic flatware, bootleg CDs, bootleg DVDs, bootleg VCDs, car-cigarette-lighter cellphone chargers, meat on a stick, bras, fisherman hats, tea sets, socks, light fixtures, wedding dresses, trivets, bananas, carpets, carpets, and carpets (Girl-E and The Dude have racked up four and counting).

Bow down low, Wal-Mart, nose to the freakin' ground.

Posted by The Twins at 03:31 PM | Comments (0) | TrackBack

April 28, 2003

Blogvel, Part 5

Ok sportsfans, here it is, our installment of Vector Girl's excellent Blogvel. While previous contributers have professed their inexperience at fiction, and then gone on to write kick-ass chapters, we will admit that we've dabbled in fiction a bit. We provided significant contributions for Girl-E's first short story "Murder, She Choked," and we'll have you know that it was very well received by her third grade teacher Ms. Draz. So that should set your expectations for this at pretty much the right level. Oh, and if the blogvel is what first brought you to the Boo-blog, thanks so much for visiting, we hope you'll come early and often. And please do the same for all the bloggers that lend their crafty fingers to this tale.

To keep you up to date:
Part 1 is here, April 8th entry
Part 2 is here, April 9th entry
Part 3 is here, April 13th entry
Part 4 is here, April 22nd entry (scroll a bit)

And now, Part 5...

Paige froze, everything around her suddenly out of focus. That, the central question of her life it seemed, and a dozen possible answers ricocheted through her head… I’m going to Thailand… I’m going to the zoo… I’m going to hell… I’m going mad… She saw Eddie glance briefly at the familiar contraptions she was collecting, and a sly grin spread across his face in the memory and anticipation of their use.

“I got the message from that over-protective brother of yours that you didn’t want to see me for a few days. But come on, baby, you can take care of yourself. So what, you going somewhere?”

And suddenly, Paige thought of the one answer that would keep Eddie right where she wanted him. “Yeah, I’m going to Marne’s for a reading, she just called, wanna come?”

Eddie’s grin straightened into an icy stare. Where most women would fall under Eddie’s tainted spell before they could think of resisting, Marne Joseph was the one woman who had humiliated him. She had been a lecturer at the college in his department, specializing in Victorian poetry. Before Paige got involved with Eddie, he and Marne had had a brief affair which ended with him threatening her standing at the college if she didn’t agree to indulge certain whims. She had reported him to the personnel committee, albeit with selective details, and the result had been a postponement of his tenure. Marne had later resigned from the college to do research at the state university, but she still kept in touch with former students for readings and workshops.

Of course Marne had lost all respect she may have had for Paige as a writer when Paige picked up with the supreme prick. She hadn’t called Paige in about 18 months.

Still, Eddie couldn’t get angry or accuse Paige of lying, because the fact was he was still afraid of that woman, and if she and Paige were back in touch, the whole thing was poison to him. And the risk of him agreeing to come with her was none so high.

Eddie collected himself to affect the upper-hand, and tried to look some combination of scornful and bored.

“Well, you tell that cunt I said howdee-doo.” Then he went to the fridge and took out a Keystone. He’d never seemed more disgusting to her.

Paige grabbed the small bag she’d been packing, glanced at her watch, and headed purposefully for the door. “See ya later,” she said, trying hard not to choke on her anxiety and self-pity.

As she climbed in the car, still intending to drive to the coast, it suddenly occurred to her that maybe it didn’t have to be such a lie after all. Maybe the fact that she’d been contemplating murder meant things had gotten bad enough for her to admit she needed an ally stronger than her sorry-ass pride. She’d been to Marne’s one-bedroom house by the lake about two years ago, and knew she could find it again, although she had no way to know whether Marne would still be there. She drove into the dusk, smoking furiously, Janis Joplin’s “Cosmic Blues” blaring on the second-rate sound system.

When she got to the house about 45 minutes later, she could hardly breathe from nerves. Going to Marne was like wrapping her tail between her legs, over her shoulder and all the way back down and around. But her family had reached the limit of their power to pull her out, and maybe this would be like detox. Or maybe profound humiliation. Or both.

She forced herself out of the car, stubbed out her cigarette on the driveway, and pushed her hair behind her ears, like that was going to help something or other. There was one light on in the front room, and she knocked on the door.

The door opened, and Marne Joseph stood tall in front of her, wearing jeans and a long white linen button-down, blond hair loosely pulled back in a claw-clip. She was holding a copy of Trilby in one hand and a Diet Dr. Pepper in the other. Marne could always manage to seem totally down to earth and yet utterly superior to everyone around her.

Marne’s face went from startled to a sly grin not unlike Eddie’s an hour earlier. “Well, would you look at that. What the fuck do we have here?”
Part 6 will be from Matt here, but as usual please give him a few days to pick up the mantle.

Posted by The Twins at 01:50 PM | Comments (0) | TrackBack

April 27, 2003

Moments of Smug, Part I

The following vignette is just one example of why Girl-E is a simultaneously endearing and utterly infuriating human being. Anyone who knows her can tell a similar one of their own.

On the airport bus to Bodrum, a seaside resort town in southwestern Turkey. The overture to Carmen playing on the bus's soundsystem:
Pohm* lady sitting behind us #1: (starts humming and singing lyrics). Oh I just love this piece.
Pohm #2: What is it?
P1: It's Carmen. Haven't you seen the movie? It's wonderful, all black cast. Carmen's a black opera, you know.
P2: Really!
Girl-E**: Actually, Carmen Jones, starring Harry Belafonte, is an African American cinematic remake of Carmen, which is a French opera set in Spain. Idiot.

* a whiny Brit, abbreviation for "Prisoner of Her Majesty," which was stamped on British passports back in the day when they were shipped as criminals to Australia.
** In all truth, this was said under her breath to The Dude. But she wanted very badly to say it to the woman's face, and is not typically beyond doing so.

Posted by The Twins at 09:26 AM | Comments (0) | TrackBack

Just imagine Sledgehammer is playing in the background, because it is in our livingroom

We're ba-ack! We had a truly excellent time skipping along the Aegean, until yesterday when some totally worthless human being stole the $1,000 video camera right out of The Dude's bag. We can't really bear to discuss it right now, but just wanted to express our need for a few "poor babies!"

We're mad at work on Chapter 5 of the blogvel, so for those of you who are coming to this site for the sole purpose of reading that, just hang tight for another day or so.

Oh, and something's up with Bloglinker, hence (at least from our viewpoint) all the links to other blogs on the left have completely disappeared. We're working on it (or really waiting impatiently hoping someone is working on it), hearty apologies to the worthy blogs who are currently in oblivion. Or maybe we'll switch to our Blogrolling list, in which case disregard the above unless you are only on our Bloglinker list. Damn it, all this technology gets confusing.

Posted by The Twins at 08:53 AM | Comments (0) | TrackBack

April 17, 2003

Cue the GoGo's

We hate to do this to you, but the Boo-blog's gonna have to take a break for a week as we go skipping along the Aegean with Girl-E and The Dude. We know, sucks to be us. But be sure to tune in after a week's time, when we'll be adding chapter 5 of Vector Girl's blogvel. Should be rockin'.

We know we promised something of global import today, but we have packing to do.

Posted by The Twins at 04:23 AM | Comments (0) | TrackBack

April 16, 2003

Stop it already

In highly uncharacteristic negligence towards the written word, it took us a full 12 hours to discover two blatant typos in the previous post. They have now been corrected, and with any luck they were overlooked by our readers. However, since we're certain that at least Jess must have spotted them, we are making an open acknowledgment and begging forgiveness.

Posted by The Twins at 05:37 PM | Comments (0) | TrackBack

Good Morning, Starshine

So we have a serious thing we could talk about today, or a trivial thing. We'll go with the trivial thing, because well, that's just where our mental energy's at. You can always go to CNN.com after you read this, which is probably what we'll do after we write it.

Girl-E had a nightmare last night, of the variety driven by pure, unadulterated vanity. Girl-E's vanity is such that she doesn't generally make much effort to look fabulous on a daily basis, but she'd like to think the potential is there should she decide to pursue it on any given occasion.

There is no one thing that carries the brunt of this vanity more than her hair. Again, it is not daily hair perfection for which she strives, but rather a net positive average daily balance, an overall gestalt of appeal if you will. While this is not uncommon, it is complicated by the fact that she suffers from BOYS, or Blonde Of Youth Syndrome, a condition affecting countless young women who had naturally light blonde hair until their early 20s, when suddenly, as Girl-E's mother would say, it started to "go bad". The predominant symptom of BOYS is an almost obsessive desire to assert the authentic blonde self, while cheating just enough with highlights to perpetuate the only identity they have ever known. This does not mean lying; BOYS sufferers are far too aware of their own transgressions to believe they could fool anyone else, even if on occasion they do. What it means is a concerted effort to keep even themselves ignorant of just how far they have "gone bad". As Girl-E is still in the first few years of this insipid decomposition, her long-term strategy still occupies large amounts of her thinking.

At this point, we feel we have delved into far too much detail about the blonde issue to expound on the frizz issue. But just let it be known that there is one.

Anyway, about the nightmare. In it, Girl-E is going home for a wedding (which is in fact happening next month, although the bride in the dream is a different friend). She decides to visit an unknown stylist while she is there, about whom she has heard simply wonderful things. She goes in for a trim and subtle highlights, but suddenly becomes aware that he has given her some kind of shaven-nape bowl cut and dyed it raven black, like so much evil, frumpy, early '90s Winona Ryder. She then proceeds to engage in one of the most impassioned, eloquent debates of her life with the so-called stylist, who reasons that granting clients with such surprises is the only way they will ever be pushed towards change. Some other stylist interjects that he personally would have asked her first before doing such a thing, but that hardly helps the situation. She screams that the stylist clearly failed to assess the texture of her hair before commencing his little project, as he certainly never would have given her the cut that he did had he done adequate pre-style analysis. Then she woke up.

Anyway, we know that you are right now thinking you wished you'd just gone straight to CNN.com when given the chance. We promise we'll provide something of more global import tomorrow. But should you ever happen to meet Girl-E, feel free to use this information regarding one of her chief insecurities to your advantage.

Posted by The Twins at 03:03 AM | Comments (0) | TrackBack

April 14, 2003

Fifteen - Love

Most exciting things to report today:
* Slipped out of "work" two hours early.
* Watched entire making of the Enrique Iglesias video for "Escape," where he makes out with Anna Kournikova.
* Finished supply of dried apricots.
* Napped.

Sorry, just woke up from the nap. Not foreseeing anything more lively. Check back tomorrow.

Posted by The Twins at 09:43 AM | Comments (0) | TrackBack

April 12, 2003



After consulting an actual calender, it has come to our attention that Bastille Day 2003 is actually a Monday, not a Tuesday. So consider The Day After Bastille Day to be Girl-E's re-debut at Mary Mary's All Star Karaoke. Apologies all around for any inconvenience this may have caused.

Posted by The Twins at 05:25 AM | Comments (0) | TrackBack

Eat dirt, really

You know how workplace sitcoms always have that one person who makes it his/her personal mission to deceive/derail/profoundly irritate/otherwise ruin the day of anyone who is unfortunate enough to be in his/her airspace? Well, in case you've never had the pleasure, those people are real. The one who sits next to Girl-E in the staff room plays the part better than any Harvard Lampoon writer could conceive. And being as cliched as she aughta be, she evokes wrath from colleagues while simultaneously kissing ass so professionally that the management thinks she's a real up-and-comer. Classic stuff.

As has been previously alluded, Girl-E is about to enter week three of being barred from the classroom, as government inspectors are in town and she is visa-less. It is categorically not her fault that she has time on her hands, but after a full day of helping other people with their work, she made the mistake of reading a novel at her desk for 20 minutes. Well, Miss Thing called her out, suggesting that such a display of leisure in view of so many overworked and underpaid people is punishable by death. She actually said "death or poison". Eeny-meeny-miny-mo. I mean, if you want to be a resentful bitch, at least have the maturity to limit your resentful bitchiness to behind-the-back gossip. Girl-E already knows you're thinking it, you don't have to ruin her Friday afternoon by harking on her outloud like some sex-starved 13 year-old.

Here's the interesting thing: Near the staff room, there is a smoking room where people constantly retreat for conversation and a drag or five. There are some people who go there just about every 20 minutes, spending approximately 45-65% of every day yacking and puffing without producing a single piece of work. If Girl-E were to spend these weeks in that room, no one would disapprove of her idleness or even blink. But she has the misfortune of being literally the only non-smoking staff member, and therefore has assumed the gaul of doing highly offensive things like reading Trollope in plain view. For her evil-doing next week, she's considering origami swans. Or, retreating to the smoking room with a joint. The jury's still out.

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April 10, 2003

Cue Freddie Mercury

Word UP Dub, you won, go team!! U-S-A! U-S-A! I think what most pulled the heartstrings of pride was when we spent over an hour pulling down that statue of Sadaam and then someone wrapped an American flag around its head and then someone else said "hmm, maybe not" and all the while the news commentators didn't want to leave the scene but they couldn't think of anything to say for an hour so they just repeatedly exclaimed "this is just EXTRAORDINARY" in their most emotional shrieky voice.

So if that was the rank #1 vs. #16 round, who's on the next bracket?

The Twins for Peace Project is so still on, by the way. We fear the need has not passed.

Posted by The Twins at 01:27 PM | Comments (0) | TrackBack

April 07, 2003

I, wanna rock 'n' roll all night

Girl-E is starting to get figity to resume a certain hobby. She's lasted these 8 months without complaining too much, but we can see the glazed look in her eyes as she watches our newly-acquired MTV that she has reached a certain dangerous level of agitation. We fear it might soon blow her cover; only a very select few know she is a karaoke whore.

She has her standards, though. She's not about to go to the Istanbul Hilton on Wednesdays and pull out her best Pat Benatar for a bunch of fly-by-night foreign businessmen, oh no. Nor is she going to flock to the first karaoke night she finds upon returning to Boston, the kind of place that is populated by all the people you hated in high school, where the most requested faves are meatheads singing Garth or AC/DC and packs of girls wearing glitter shrieking Papa Don't Preach. Not that she's above wearing glitter, but true karaoke whores go solo, and think outside the box for their repertoire. She's not afraid to skip right over the GoGo's and take on Chrissie Hynde or Hall and Oates. Even David Byrne is not outside her comfort zone. At her particular favorite karaoke night (every Tuesday), everyone knows each other, and the ecclectic is celebrated. There's a white girl who would make Mike D proud, and a short dumpy guy with long dreadlocks and a broken arm whose Marvin Gaye could make you swoon. His arm probably isn't still broken, but she likes to hold that image of him in her memory.

Of course, Girl-E also does some legitimate singing back home, with a real band and in real recording studios, and that withdrawal has been fierce in itself. But there's something about the stability of karaoke, the knowledge of reliable, consistent stardom where the sound guy cares more about you than the guitarist (there being no guitarist to care about), that gives it a long-term warm fuzzy quality that can't be found in the real music business.

Anyway, the countdown to Bastille Day is on, that being the first Tuesday night she will be in Boston. Please feel free to write in your requests for her homecoming number.

Posted by The Twins at 10:38 AM | Comments (0) | TrackBack

April 05, 2003

Sibling Rivalry

Who do these kids think they are? Formerly conjoined four-year-old Malaysian twins for peace my ass. Opportunists, that's what they are. Their handlers clearly found the Twins for Peace Project and ran off with the brand, exploiting their little clueless proteges in the process. I mean, the article even says "although they may not understand the meaning of world peace, they nevertheless put their signatures down to protest against a possible military action against Iraq by the United States." Good. Nice. Way to speak out, kids.

Well, these twins understand the meaning of world peace, thank you very much, but we'll refrain from legal action for now. And don't forget to send us your photos/messages.

Posted by The Twins at 01:19 PM | Comments (0) | TrackBack

April 02, 2003

Here we are now, entertainers

Girl-E recently mentioned to her good buddy Girl-C that she is in a sad phase in which what she really wants is "is to sit on my tuff and never do anything responsible, ever." Girl-C, ever-wise, reassuringly replied "No no. It's cool. You're having a phase. This is like some kind of mid-90s slacker period you're going through as a result of highly stressful work and cultural displacement. You're like Bridget Fonda in Singles, only you want a breast reduction instead of an enlargement and you're married to a teacher rather than dating a musician. You are actually ahead of the curve, as widespread 90s nostalgia is due to kick in May 2004 approximately."

So for those of you who find yourself listening to Blood Sugar Sex Magic on repeat and having no ambitions beyond finally organizing your IE Favorites, it's all good. You're not in a slump, you've got your finger on the pulse of America.

And in case you're wondering, we're too emotionally shocked to address a certain particularly disturbing revelation in Girl-C's statement. So we're sticking with the main theme, and we'll return to the other topic when we can cope.

By the way, Girl-E went to the gym tonight. They told her they thought she'd moved back to the States.

Posted by The Twins at 11:14 AM | Comments (0) | TrackBack

April 01, 2003

Meet Little Miss Useless!

She's a very friendly little miss. If only she were good for even one darn thing!

Little Miss Useless works at a very silly place. They are paying her to be useless! Why would they do that? Well, can you say "foreigner work permit"? Little Miss Useless can't, she's never seen one! For two whole weeks, some big men from the government are in the silly place, and Little Miss Useless has to hide in a room and be as useless as her little self can be! And that's quite useless indeed.

Little Miss Useless does do some things, though. She drinks lots of instant coffee and plays solitaire on her handheld. Look, she got the highest score! She also gossips about Little Miss Harpy and Little Miss Kiss-Ass, who don't like Little Miss Useless very much. They know deep down they're as useless as she is, but they have to pretend they're not. Being a legal citizen is a bummer! But Little Miss Useless is bummed, too.

She has to stay at the silly place and be useless, when it's much more fun to be useless at home. But don't worry too much, children, she'll be home soon, where she can order Pizza Hut and play solitaire on a real computer! Goodbye, Little Miss Useless, don't work too hard! Just kidding!

Posted by The Twins at 01:16 PM | Comments (0) | TrackBack