I sat down yesterday to write a post for all you loyal readers. Most unexpectedly, Anya came up from behind me, grabbed my shoulders and asked exuberantly, "Can I watch?!"

This froze me immediately. Anya HATES my computers. She's openly told me that my blogging is one of those things "she puts up with only because she loves me." Thoughts were running through my head, panicking over how this could possibly be happening. The dominant male thoughts settled on, "This is a hormone wave. She's experiencing a total personality reversal - this is only temporary. Ride the wave, gently now. She will switch back - make it gentle, make it gentle."

I clasped her hands, "But of course, fuzziest. What brought on your interest?"

She hugged my spine into my chair. "I figured out what you were doing all this time! I feel so bad for snubbing you!"

"This is not gentle. This is not gentle. Things are going awry. Just take it like a man."

"And what is it you've discovered about me?"

"Why, your messaging! Just the other day I was marking our territory to keep out the strays and to let our friends know we live here. By sniffing the trees, everyone knows that we're the dominant werewolves here, and we're starting a family. You're doing the same thing, only on A MUCH LARGER TREE, that MANY MORE PEOPLE read. I used to think you were wasting your time, but you've been out-performing me!"

For the next half-hour, I was speechless. I could not form words. My lexicon - vaporized.

I finally re-learned English. "You're comparing MY BLOGGING to your PEEING ON TREES?!"

Oh, how her head nodded vigorously.

I got up immediately, and grabbed a bottle of Triple Distilled Citrus Absolut. I pointed to my bedroom door. "I'm going in there, Anya. I'm going to drink this. I am going to cry, laugh, puke, twitch, and suck on my thumb - ALL AT THE SAME TIME - for the next couple of hours."

And that is why you don't have much of a blog post today.


Echo Image - Compuphonic - Good Intentions (Contravibe Mix)

7

i don't job interview, i forward assault

It was just a few days ago - Anya was getting all cute and snuggly with me
(!) when she mentioned that she liked me more now that I had stopped being so much of a caffeine-fueled maniac. My response unto this was,

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA
AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA
AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA
AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA
AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA
AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA
AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA
AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA
AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA
AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA
AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA
AAAAAAA... " *GASP* *THUD*

Me?! Losing my edge?! "Stopped being a maniac?!" NO!

I can't let this HAPPEN!!!!

I grabbed Anya's ribs and blew a raspberry as hard as I could on her exposed belly. Her shrill girlie shriek and full-body spasm gave me my precious two-second window to escape.

Even I am not so stupid as to be completely devoid of caffeine. In my upper cubboards there were two energy drinks from a couple of years ago. Sadly, they were no longer in production, but now was not the time for conservation. I *SHOTGUNNED* them both with paring knives, and poured them both into my face.

What follows is an account based on limited linear thought.

With the mighty vengeance of a car that has crossed swords with thousands of shopping cars, I plowed my 99 (see blog post "99") into a grocery store whose name I can't remember because the letters kept shifting. I *PLUNDERED* them of all their leafy greens. The men ran, the women swooned, and the children sucked on lollipops.

What I had not realized was the removal of a critical support beam in the dividing wall between the grocery store, and the pet store. I had unleashed the bunnies. They stared at me with their squinty eyes. Their overwhelming power of telepathy seared my brain. "Bitch, give us the greens."

There was only one recourse of action. I drove onto the I-5/Pacific Highway on-ramp, and stuffed the scam - artist - dressed - as - a - homeless - man's clothes full of lettuce. Merriment ensued as Portland watched two hundred bunnies chase down this seemingly homeless man. The tidal wave of carnage, bunnies and lettuce invariably brought me downtown.

I took several hotdogs, plunged them within someone else's blender, poured in a bucket of mustard, and made myself a giant "yellow-dog smoothie." I then proceeded to feed the poor. (They were very resistant for starving people.)

And finally, I wound up dressed like Santa, complete with fake flowing white beard, running through other people's houses and telling the children that the invisible mutant gophers will steal their brains.

To top it all off, I threw open the door to our Portland apartment, and stood just inside the doorway - dressed like Santa from the waist up, and naked from the waist down. My pants apparently disappeared somewhere in Gresham. Ever so loudly and with a fist raised high to the sky, I shouted, "ANYA!! PREPARE YOURSELF FOR CONQUEST!!!"

It was just then that I noticed the giant dead-blow mallet Anya keeps by the door was missing. I looked up to see a naked Anya swinging a solid block of wood straight for my face.

And thus ended quite possibly the best streak of madness I've had in long time. Anya and I had a little heart-to-heart (me - tied to bed, she - playing with interesting knives), and we hammered out an agreement with regards to further outbursts. This will, of course, be the subject of future postings.


Dire Straits - Brothers In Arms - Your Latest Trick

7

playing with mr. grenade

A few days ago, I got an invitation to see a concert put on by a few friends at a new club in downtown Portland. Of course I had to go. What transpired is only barely believable.

First and foremost, this new club (which we're going to call CA), was in the scarier parts of Old Chinatown in downtown Portland. The part of Portland were the homeless people run up to you to tell you what building you are. (I'm apparently the "Hawthorne building," whatever that means.)

When I walked up the flights of stairs to get to the club, I immediately lost most of my vision to the blue-black cigarette smoke cloud. The owner was nice enough to let me in without paying cover because I was one of the artists that RSVP'd. (Yes, I do produce some experimental electronica, too.) The crowd on this particular day was a gaggle of morbidly obese men who, after a case of beer, decided they were the sexiest things in Portland. And they were not going to let the masses on the street pass up on their apparent sexiness - as detailed by their shouting through the open window.

So, avoiding the idiots, I sat down at the bar. Our selection of colorful people included more morbidly obese people, and a guy who looked like he just walked in from his office job, still in leather shoes, slacks and conservative shirt. This office guy, Mike, was very generous indeed, and bought everyone a beer.

This came in handy, as the one and only girl who walked into the bar that was not morbidly obese was willing to flash her boobs to anyone who bought her a beer. Mike bought her at least three beers. That, plus her own consumed beers, yielded a woman who flashed her boobs around to anyone for any reason in about an hour.

I know what you're thinking: "Seven, how could you ogle drunk women flashing their boobs around a bar?!" In my defense - 1) Anya knows I exist for her pillows, and her pillows alone. 2) The woman's husband was there, and apparently he approved anyway.

But - the main attraction - was this most vociferous heroin addict. He was a tall, lanky guy, with random tattoos on his face, a pair of goggles wrapped around his shaved head (with a q-tip stuck in the band for style), and auto parts stuck through his earlobes. My two favorite conversations from him were as follows.

1) There is a dragon at the bottom of Lake Tahoe. There's only one dragon at the bottom of Lake Tahoe because the six foot long bass fish can't swim upstream to spawn, and therefore died out. So, in order to keep that dragon alive, people have been dumping bodies into Lake Tahoe to feed the dragon.

2) He spent 10 minutes under the delusion he was Ignignot of the Mooninites from "Aqua Teen Hunger Force."

I felt it was time to go when Mike was going around seeing if anyone could get him a hit of Ecstasy, and the heroin addict left the bar with the boob-flasher to go 420 around the block. The music was awesome, though - the bands "Lectronin," and "PhonoScape" were some really fine examples of experimental electronica.

If you're wondering about the title of this post, that has more to do with what happened when I got home. When I walked in the door, there was Anya, happy as always to see me. But as soon as she got within arm-reach of me, her face... crinkled in upon itself. After that, I don't recall her saying anything in English or Russian. Of what I heard, I was able to pick out: "Ick! Ugh! Bleaaahhhckkkk!"

I only vaguely recall the brief, and thoroughly terrifying display of strength as Anya hoisted me off the floor with one arm, and threw me into the shower. I don't know what happened to the clothes I was wearing, but I haven't been able to find them. I do remember... a giant paw shoving my head under soapy water, hitting the tub floor a few times.

I woke up being rubbed dry in several large towels. Anya nibbled my ear, "Don't come home smelling like that again, please. Please?" She held my hands in that "serious-girl-trying-to-get-through-to-the-guy" hold. I nibbled her ear back, "Don't worry. That was a learning experience. I think I'll hang out around cafes from now on."

The Lesson Here Is: "If your better half has a nose a million times more sensitive than yours, at least make friends in places that smell good."

Corollary: "After several concussions, it may seem that your werewolf is one big tongue, but she isn't."


PTI - Exhaust - Exhaust

7

cucumber snuggery doodad

There really isn't any better way to wake up. Holding Anya tightly, feeling her hot breath down your back, and hearing her big heart pumping in her chest. The biggest tragedy of every morning is the mutual hunger that drives us to eat, thereby breaking up the morning ecstasy.

But what I didn't expect, was the rising and sinking of the FLOOR BREATHING.

Once again, I realize I'm waking up on the day after a full moon, and in this month's edition of surprise wake-ups, I'm lying in the center of what could be construed as the largest dog-pile of this century - made entirely out of random werewolves.

A paw starts rubbing my chest and I turn to see Anya's golden eyes. She gives me a lick upside the face and whispers, "It's exactly what it looks like."

I'm looking around and seeing a number of naked females. I point and she shushes me. "They can look, they can play, they can tease, but they can't HAVE."

"You know I'm going to have to blog this, right?"

She nods, "But that will be after our bath and breakfast."

I love this girl.


Apoptygma Berzerk - 7 - Love Never Dies (Part II) [I'm man enough to admit that when she sings this to me, I just melt.]

7

bubbly oblique sun

The saying goes, "Without mysteries, life would be very dull indeed. What would be left to strive for if everything were known?" (Charles de Lint) Or even, "It is better to know some of the questions than all of the answers." (James Thurber)

I happen to disagree. I need to know things. As many things as humanly possible. And then some. A lot of you may be thinking, "But Seven, if you knew everything wouldn't life get boring?" Nope. Absolutely not. Since it is impossible to know ABSOLUTELY everything, there will always be something new to learn, and parts of the Universe to alter to suit my needs. "Everything is perfect in the universe - even your desire to improve it." (Wayne Dyer)

Which is why, a few days ago, I bought myself a fifth of Everclear, and grabbed my tailoring measuring tape. I was going to do it. I was going to get Anya's measurements as her "normal" self; you know - when she's not trying to look human. I just had to know.

I had to pause for a second when I found her - she was sitting quietly on my bed. That alone gave me cause for concern. Only Jack Russell Terriers are bolder, more energetic, and capable of approaching her level of destruction. But that wasn't going to stop me. I had to know.

"Alrighty. Looky what I got you! It's your favorite 'party water!'"

I froze. She shook her head no and waved the bottle away. "No. Not for me. I know what you want, Seven. You've been trying for a while - you want to measure me. I'll let you."

Time stopped. This was not possible. She used to threaten to remove all non-necessary organs from my body if she saw the tape measure in my hands. And this was the first time SHE HAD REFUSED ALCOHOL. Which, at that time, made a wet thump as it hit my bare foot and bounced onto the carpet. All that, plus her uncharacteristic passive tone of voice was adding up to a heart-stopping conclusion.

She apparently could read me just as well as I could read her. Anya looked up at me and smiled, "Hey. You didn't scream this time."

I felt like my body had turned into loose change as Anya pulled me closer and held me close. She kissed me on the cheek and whispered into my ear, "Congratulations, big guy. You've made me so happy. You're really are going to be a Daddy!!"

I woke up on my giant beanbag with Anya lying next to me. "I understand. Being a parent is... stunning. But I am happier than I have ever been. I get to be a mother, and I wouldn't have wanted them with anyone else but you."

"T-t-them?!"

I tried to speak, but it came out in a gurgle. She closed my mouth with a finger, "I love you too. Go back to sleep. You'll feel a lot better."

Official Measurements: 44D-32-42; Height: 6'7"; Weight: 230 lbs (baby's got muscle)


XTC - Oranges And Lemons - The Loving

7

it's only fair to warn you, i have no idea what i'm doing