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June 27, 2003

Extra points for lexical innovation

Girl-E said one of the hardest goodbyes yet this morning to a fabulous woman who was the cool big sister she never had. We knew this lady was top-notch when, within two days of knowing her, she casually mentioned that she once started a campaign among friends and acquaintances to reclaim the word "cunt" by introducing "cunty" as an all-purpose adjective. E.g., "my, that is a cunty dress you have on today!", or "I'm feeling a little cunty this morning, must be something I ate."

So we're off tomorrow morning for a trip along the Black Sea, and unfortunately will have to bid you adieu for the next week. Spend it wisely, and have a very excellent July 4th. We will be spending it with a Canadian and a few thousand Turkish peasants. We're thinking maybe we won't find red white and blue Superpops this year.

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June 26, 2003

Cue Boys II Men

So with twelve days and counting until Girl-E's repatriation, the goodbyes have started. Last night was a couple of dear friends who were leaving for the summer, and this morning was the hair stylist. Turns out, though, that next month Oguz is taking his titanium shears, acid wash jeans and five words of English to try his hand at a career in New York, so perhaps we will see him again one day. Tonight was the last time she set foot at the Silly Place She Worked, and while the dinner rolls were good and many of the goodbyes quite heartbreaking, it must be admitted that the final beep of her security card at the gate produced more than a few endorphins.

Girl-E is in some kind of surreal funny-land regarding the upcoming move to adequately process that the Anatolian Adventure is coming to an end. It has been almost 11 months since she and The Dude got on a plane and said "shit man, we're going to Istanbul!", and while the first half was like a slow, psychedelic climb up Mt. Whatamidoinghere, the place has managed to settle snugly in her heart and mind as one of the most amazing corners of the world. Of course, she is more than ready embrace her friends and family, good beer, and seatbelts, but a significant sized piece of her will remain floating on the Bosphorus, right along with the jellyfish, plastic bags and incredible reflections of the Sultan's imperial mosques.

Ok, we don't like it when you see us cry, catch you later.

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June 23, 2003

Happiness is comfort food and naked Brits

Girl-E has just finished off a box of Annie's Bunnies and Cheddar mixed with a can of tuna, and is now watching this crazy lovely movie in which Vanessa Redgrave is truly so hot. Love that woman.

There may be hope for Mondays yet.

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June 22, 2003

Introducing our Pop Music Outbox

Dear Moby,
We saw your show in Istanbul last Saturday, and we've figured out why you don't drink or do drugs: you listen to Moby music all the time, why would you have to drink and do drugs? You are truly a precious gift to humans, and so is your vocalist Diane Charlamaine, whom we'd like to marry, please. We hope you run on for a long time, ha ha get it?
Your superfans,
Leto and Roz

Dear T.A.T.U.,
We thought you were so cutting edge and cute with your teenage Russian lesbian thing, until we found out that like all the boy bands, your whole mojo was fabricated by a clever but twisted producer in order to sell records and get teenage girls to make out with each other. We have zero problem with teenage girls making out, but to be suckered into it by The Man is just not ok, the voyeuristic bastard. I mean, he might as well have gone whole-hog and made one of you Asian. And your MTV Movie Awards number was so unimaginative -- dozens of Catholic schoolgirls running through the aisles tearing their shirts off and kissing each other? I mean, you could at least have had them pull Demi Moore out of the audience and start kissing her, that would have made much better television.
No xoxo for you, fake lesbians,
L & R

Dear Sting and Craig David,
Wow, you sure have scored Billboard chart gold with your duet "Rise and Fall." Like seriously, it bridges all gaps; young-old, black-white, American-European -- ok, so you're both British, but the average fan probably doesn't know that about Craig David, so it's all good. Anyway, we're just imagining how the song materialized:

Sting: Hello?
C.D.: Hey yo Sting, it's me Craig, Craig David.
Sting: Ah yes, C-Dog, how is it hanging?
C.D.: Well see Sting, I've been a little down lately, I just can't really 'splain it. I mean all the honeys and the bling-blings are super and all, but I just feel like, I dunno, I'm not the dude I used to be, you know?
Sting: Ah, Craig, I do hear you, I've been around the block you know. I was having the same conversation with Nelly just the other day, actually.
C.D.: Really? You got some good words for me, dog?
Sting: How 'bout we meet at Starbucks* in Picadilly in 25, just after I finish this impromtu unplugged jam session in my apartment with Tom Petty and R. Kelly.
C.D.: Hey man, that'd be dope. I'll grab our usual table. Peaceout.

Feel free to use the above as a prologue to the next re-mix,
Leto & Roz

*If you haven't seen the video, they are actually like in a freaking Starbucks, we're not even shitting you.

Dear Eurovision,
It's very cool and historical and all that for you, Europe's biggest annual pop music competition, to choose a Turkish artist as your 2003 champion, seeing as Turkey is trying to establish itself as a modern, Westernized nation. We also think it's nice that you gave Kylie Minogue (representing the U.K. for some unknown reason) zero points for sucking the big one.

However, we must protest the decision on the basis that the winning song is the catchiest damn song in the history of earth, and as it has invaded the country, neck-in-neck with the national anthem for play time (and that's saying A LOT in Turkey), it has also invaded our psyche, distracting us from all productive thought or activity. If we would not be stoned to death by the hoards of Sertab's adoring fans, we might bring legal action.
Leto and Roz

Dear Terence Trent D'Arby,
You are so pretty. We're glad you have a new album, especially now when no one will mix you up with Milli Vanilli. We also like that in your duet with Des'ree, you sing the high parts.
L & R

Dear Joy TV,
The fact that we can watch you for an hour and see no fewer than three George Michael videos is truly lovely. We will miss you in the U.S., especially since The Dude won't let us get cable.
The Berlin videos also rock,
Leto & Roz

Dear Madonna,
-L & R

Addendum: Ok, we just saw the "Rise and Fall" video again, and they are in fact in a bar. But the only things that distinguish it from a Starbucks are the presence of a pool table and the fact that Sting is the only white person.

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June 20, 2003

Do you know why they call it a Royale with Cheese?

Girl-E is kickin' it single-girl style this weekend because The Dude is out of town. In Amsterdam. For a bachelor party. Yes that's right, we said Amsterdam for a bachelor party. Vegas is so JV compared to that. The joke about "you guys are really gonna enjoy Anne Frank's house" is getting way old.

The wife of one of the other attendees is trying to get her husband to smuggle hash back, but Girl-E is hoping that The Dude is not numb-nutted enough to sneak drugs into Turkey. Midnight Express may be exaggerated and racist, but it's not entirely untrue. The same said other attendee has been openly discussing the "academic exercise" of pricing prostitutes. Because it would be interesting to understand, you know, the economics of the trade as a legal enterprise.

By the way, The Dude went to the Bahamas for a bachelor party two years ago. On a private yacht. That was the groom's uncle's converted naval war ship. What the fuck.

But anyway, Girl-E's all set, she's got Trollope, women's Tennis on Eurosport, and shitloads of really awesome Turkish cherries. Oh, and a sprained ankle, and no money because it was all spent on The Dude's plane ticket. But it's cool, really.

Maybe she does want him to smuggle the hash.

p.s. Just the fact that you wrap your sprained ankle in an Ace bandage does not make it ok to wear platform sandals.

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June 18, 2003

She's got a strong backhand

So we're wondering, why would someone think it's ok to follow the sentence "You really look like you've lost weight," with "I mean when I first met you, you were MUCH much fatter."

That's so nice! Which is so funny because you were a HUGE bitch when I first met you, but thanks!

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June 16, 2003

Um, no

So, in the name of the content of this post we will admit that we occasionally Google "boo-blog" to see if it's been referenced or, you know, written up in Wired or something. Shut up, you do it too. Anyway, it turns out there is another Boo Blog, in Portugese (no twins involved, however, so where the Boo comes from we can't say). After some investigation, we've found that the la Boo Blog Portuguesa is part of a Portugese association of anti-gay blogs.

We can not express how seriously this distresses us.

We tried to put the blog through a translator, which didn't reveal anything the least bit comprehensible (probably more comprehensible through our knowledge of Spanish), but we did find the Blogos Asociados Anti-Gay page that it's listed on. Considering we've been rounding up folks to go here to fight a hateful new anti-gay law proposed in the Massachusetts legislature, there is nothing we'd less like our Boo-blog to be confused with.

So let us register here and now that this here Boo-blog associates itself only with progressive, liberal, tolerant (well, unless you're mean or poorly dressed) viewpoints, and should not be confused with any backward-thinking romance language-speaking imposters. Thank you.

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This is like that scene in Sense and Sensibility where Emma Thompson bursts into convulsive, hysterical tears of joy

SCHOOOOL'S! OUT! FOR! SUMMER! (duh nuh nuh nuh, duh nuh nuh nuh, duh nuh nuh nuh nuh nuh nuh nuh nuh) SCHOOOOL'S! OUT! FOR! EVER! (duh nuh nuh nuh, duh nuh nuh nuh, duh nuh nuh nuh nuh nuh nuh nuh nuh)

All the little evil ones have been exorcised to their summer houses on the Mediterranean. Girl-E has two weeks of sporadic pointless meetings, but there is no one in sight under the age of 18.

It's been a truly character building experience, really. She's actually liked teaching a lot, it's the fact that she might as well have been teaching a room full of cats that caused the pain.

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June 12, 2003

Ace, ace, baby

Girl-E won the annual teachers' tennis tournament today. In the final she beat a not very nice lady, so there is much rejoicing.

She also seems to have sprained her ankle in the process, but it's a small price to pay for watching a bitch go down in smoke.

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June 11, 2003

Are you gonna finish that?

There are lots of reasons to love the Turkish inter-city bus companies. Not only can they take you 500 miles for $12, they sprinkle you with lemon cologne every hour and serve refreshments. There's nothing that says "carefree, non-litigious society" like a piping-hot cup o' nescafe on a back country road.

The minute Girl-E boarded the Metro bus on Saturday afternoon for a weekend getaway, she started rapidly glancing around for the cardboard box where they keep the chocolate hazelnut cupcakes. Her eyes were fixed like lasers on the little attendant in the bow tie, watching his every move as he loaded up the tea tray, filled water cups and distributed moist towelettes. Finally, just as she was dozing, she heard the familiar rip of the cardboard, and she sat bolt upright, hands poised to tear open the plastic choco-hazelnut wrapper. She was not disappointed.

Thirty minutes later, blowing on her scalding instant coffee and wondering how much longer she'd have to wait for dinner, she looked across the aisle at her two friends, who were deeply engaged in travel books about hiking in Mongolia. Then she almost passed out from shock-- there, on their fold-down trays, were their two choco-hazelnut cupcakes untouched and snug in their wrappers. There are people like that? People who can let free cupcakes sit right there in front of their faces and not even think about them? How does one get to be like that, and what on the green earth does it feel like? She was slightly calmed when The Dude, cupcake long gone, agreed that he couldn't possibly relate to that kind of indifference to snack food. But still, it occurred to Girl-E that perhaps this is not unrelated to the fact that these particular friends are preoccupied with plans to hike in Mongolia in July, and she is preoccupied with plans to visit every Finagle A Bagel franchise in Boston by the end of July.

To Girl-E, indifference to food is something like, say, indifference to finding a date for prom. Life would be much easier if she didn't give a whit about it, but to not obsess over it is completely impossible. And, once fulfilled, the goal is as sweet as anticipated and more. She can't help but feel that life for people who ignore their cupcakes must be just a little less complete, even if they don't know it. The closest she came to empathy was two weeks ago when she had the food poisoning, but all that did was limit her desire for meals to one a day and significantly shorten the list of things she was willing to eat, which did still include pizza and cheeseburgers.

Lucky for her, she has developed a willingness to burn off some of that yummy goodness with occasional physical activity. She even has something bordering on positive anticipation for things like tennis and step aerobics. She's found a good class in Istanbul, but she can't wait to get back to Boston to her own gym. You should go there, their cafe makes the best bran muffins.

p.s. pistachios rock.

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June 05, 2003

I... think... I... can... I... think... I....

AAAAAAAAAAAA!! Sometime in the last week, all the ass-hell stars of the universe aligned, and some giant recent earthquake's epicenter landed precisely at whereverthehell our ISP server lives, and we have the super big time excruciating internet connection blues. We'll throw a party if this post even gets successfully published. So anyway, the point is that until this problem clears up, we may be a little more sparse in posting because the process at the moment is just too damn frustrating for words. Not that that stops us from bitching.

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June 02, 2003

It helps to know we might be wishing on the same bright star

There is a tangible air of despair hovering in the apartment these days. Girl-E and The Dude are dragging their feet more heavily, glancing this way and that with moistened eyes, holding their cereal spoons a little more slack. One might assume it's their disappointment that in just five short weeks, they'll be leaving Istanbul, the friends they've made, and the country they've come to love. But we know better. They miss the damn cats.

To avoid a spectrum of bureaucratic horrors we won't bore you with, Girl-E took the little doodles back to Boston on her whirlwind trip two weeks ago to stay with The Dude's parents until the summer. She was so happy to see the schnookums safely in Grandma and Grandpa's arms, that the gravity of the situation didn't hit until she returned to the apartment from the Istanbul airport and kicked wildly at the open door to hold back the frenzied would-be escapees, and her foot caught only air.

Every so often, while Girl-E and The Dude are sitting silently on the couch reading or getting ready for bed, one of them will stop stiff, look wistfully to the radiator or the bedspread and sigh, "babies." It doesn't help that the babies are apparently getting along smashingly at G & G's, running gleefully up and down the staircases they've never had, kneading the strange and exciting waterbed, chewing on houseplants they never knew existed. G & G email several pictures a week of the pookies looking just as happy as felinely possible on the big puffy TV room couch, thinking it helps to write notes like "the kitties are doing just fine, but they miss you!" Yeah, our ass.

Girl-E and The Dude may spend their days thinking happily of the moment when they go to retrieve the boys and the little loves come bounding down the hall to leap into their arms, but we know the real scene will involve two deliriously comfortable cats slung over armchairs, who lift their chins ever so slightly, blink, immediately go back to sleep, and cling tirelessly to their resting place while the two grieving parents struggle to chuck them into pet carriers. Sad.

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