Monthly Archives: September 2009

FYCL #8 – Embarrassingly Fertile

Dubious advice on fertility, feminism, the semantics of “guys”, plus complaining about colds, cheaters and the weather. Dubious sex toy of the week has a rather fantastical twist, and recommendations include suggestions for other podcasts we like. Besides ours, I mean.

FYCL #8, if you are still doing the old-fashioned-y downloading of each episode, rather than subscribing with our shiny new rss or via iTunes.

Older archived episodes are available to download here, even if they don’t appear on the iTunes site or in the feed.

A veritable cornucopia of linkery for you:

Closing music is “Mother of Pearl” by Nellie McKay.

Leave your comments on the use of “guys” or anything else here. You can also email me questions at whatladder at gmail dot com.

Overheard in the hallway.

A conversation between two guys, who looked like jocks. One of them had team shorts on.

Guy 1: So, you were travelling over summer? Where did you go?
Guy 2: I spent a month and a half in China.
Guy 1: Toronto?
Guy 2: No, Nanking, China.
Guy 1: I have no idea where that is.
Guy 2: It is near Vietnam.

I love how Guy 2 thought that “Vietnam” would help the guy who hadn’t heard of China.

Other delights from the beginning of semester include the revolving door of drop/add, which means I really haven’t figured out any personalities yet, and the usual fight with the bookstore.

Last week, I noticed 3 students, all male, who had brought Mom or Dad with them to the first day of class. I mentioned this to a colleague, who said he had seen a parent escort a student (also male) up to our corridor to meet with another faculty member. The question that crosses my mind is, what kind of event is this? Is this snowflakes who can’t get to uni without being driven by mom or dad, or helicopters who won’t let precious go to school by himself? I shall ponder, and see if I can collect further evidences.

In other news, I am going to YET ANOTHER meeting about 6pt tomorrow. Expect a post-game rant.

FYCL #7 – the interrupted podcast.

FYCL #7, if you are still doing the old-fashioned-y downloading of each episode, rather than subscribing with our shiny new rss or via iTunes.

This week we feature dubious advice on taboos, incestual and internetual; having sex during your period, and finding an academic job. Along with our regularly featured dubious sex toy of the week, we have our very first ever non-dubious sex toy, and, of course, your regular round-up of recommendations.

Here’s your linky goodness, and as always, click responsibly, although je joue’s product does not scream “sex toy” for those of you browsing with possible shoulder overlookage:

Music at the end was Living Doll, by Cliff Richard, which I can’t hear without thinking of the Young Ones.

Special thanks to Kanye, for interrupting SJ’s website.


FYCL podcast is now available through iTunes. I know! How awesome is that? Episodes #5 and #6 are there, and if any of you paragons of readers would rate us or write a review, I would love you a bijillion. Recording got a bit derailed this weekend, but there are plans to hopefully get an ep out by the end of the week.

If you want to inspire us, leave a question or comment here!

Sunday afternoon trolling Omegle.

For those of you who don’t know it, Omegle is this chat site where you can go to talk to a random stranger. The idea is that you just chat anonymously, and I think it started out as kind of a social experiment. Of course, in practice, the majority of chatters are horny young men hoping to find a girl with a webcam who will then go on MSN. Whether there are any such girls is unknown, but the HYM appear to live in hope.

If you enjoy making fun of strangers, or just being silly, you can troll it fairly amusingly by asking people their IQ, responding only with the titles of Beatles songs or book titles, telling teenagers to watch out for pedobear, or saying you are male and watching how quickly people hang up.

You: Are you there God? It’s me, Margaret.
Stranger: What are you wearing Margaret?

I played around for a while asking people to tell me something they never told anyone else.

Stranger: hi
You: Tell me something you never told anyone else.
Stranger: i had sex with a dog
Stranger: we did it doggy style
You: On the internet, no one knows you are a dog.
Your conversational partner has disconnected.

Basically the fun that is to be had is fairly limited unless you like messing with people (which I do), but occasionally you get a gem.

Stranger: I’M OUTTA MANA
You: Are you in the right place?
Stranger: WHAT?!
Stranger: OF COURSE I AM!
You: You know, are you standing on a mana source?
Stranger: I AM!?
You: Dude, it is so the Den of Sorceresses.
Stranger: *looks down*
Stranger: I’m not a dude 😡
You: Oh, well, then welcome.
You: I was worried I was going to have to demand an offering of blood.
Stranger: Well, actually
Stranger: That’s why I’m here.
Stranger: 😐
You: For blood?
Stranger: Yes.
You: Okay, Unicorn, Troll, or Human?
Stranger: What are you?
You: I am the one who has a supply of blood to sell you.
Stranger: I want yours.
You: Mine?
Stranger: Yes.
Stranger: Please? *gives puppy dog eyes*
You: I offer you unicorn blood, and you want mine?
Stranger: Yes.
Stranger: Yours is the one we need!
You: You need a snake-human hybrid?
Stranger: YES.
You: What’s in it for me? And don’t be all “riches beyond your wildest dreams”.
Stranger: Riches beyond your wil–
Stranger: Oh.
Stranger: Uhm…
Stranger: Well, you will give life to the ultimate being
You: I am tapping my foot, I mean, tail, here.
Stranger: and he will grant you whatever you want.
You: No, no, YOU have to give me something.
Stranger: Well, what can I POSSIBLY give you?
Stranger: Good sir.
You: SIR?
You: WHAT?
You: Now I am utterly offended.
Stranger: Madam?
Stranger: It’s hard to tell with your snake head…:|
You: It’s not my head that is the snake half.
You: Haven’t you ever seen a mermaid?
Stranger: Oh my!
Stranger: I have not, good serpent.
You: Well, you have the whole half and half thing a bit upside down.
You: So, back to what you are going to give me for a vial of my blood.
Stranger: A vial?!
Stranger: PAH!
Stranger: I need more than that.
You: Unlikely. One drop is enough for the most powerful of purposes.
Stranger: I don’t believe you.
Stranger: This is not information I was told
Stranger: I was told to take 2 pints.
You: Yes, but you are clearly ignorant, with your whole “I have never seen a mermaid” confession.
You: I bet this is your first heroic quest.
Stranger: IT IS NOT
Stranger: I AM LEVEL 80
Stranger: SPECIES: ELF
You: You probably still have a wooden sword and a green hood.
Stranger: Excuse me?
Stranger: I sword?
Stranger: A*
Stranger: A SWORD?!
You: You’re right. It is more like a dagger.
You: Or a kitchen knife.
Stranger: I don’t USE a melee weapon!
Stranger: I have a bow.
Stranger: DUH.
You: How do you propose to get these 2 pints of blood out of me, then?
Stranger: Kill you.
Stranger: Plain and simple.
You: What, by hitting me over the head with an arrow?
You: Okay, so you turn around and walk 20 paces away from me.
You: With your back turned.
You: Are you going to survive to turn around and shoot?
Stranger: I’m not stupid D:
Stranger: I’M ON TO YOU
Stranger: *eyes you*
You: You know, while we have been chatting, I have been entwining my serpentine tail around you.
You: Are you finding it a little hard to breathe?
Stranger: WHAT?!
You: I can just flick the tip of my tail, and now there is a leetle bit of poison in your blood.
You: Feeling sleepy?
Stranger: Wha…..-_-
You: I might just grab your heavy purse with my spare hand.
You: Thank you for your custom.

A confession…

Sometimes, when I don’t want to tell people what I do, I tell them I am a goat farmer. Usually, I then go on about cheese, rather than spinning or fibre, but it’s always goats.

So, when I saw this awesome goat giveaway, I was totally tempted to write an essay. Sadly, though, I don’t think inner-suburban yuppieville is going to be judged a suitable home for FIVE goats and a shed. And while, in my head I am an awesome goat-carer, I am not utterly sure that I have the necessary practical skills. Instead, I am nagging people I know who DO have acreages to enter the contest, so that I can live vicariously through them.

So, dear reader, if you have the room, and have always wanted goats, I urge you to enter. I will even read a draft of your essay, I so utterly want someone I know to win this. Goat essays, I can do.

Also, look how croot!


FYCL #6 Recorded in our Bathrobes.

FYCL #6, click to listen, etc, you know the drill.

Dubious advice on going back to school, scientific parenting, getting your kids to develop autonomy, advice on how to accept a pizza delivery, dubious sex toy of the week – home-made edition, and our usual round-up of pop culture recommendations.

Here is your linky goodness:

Music at the end was “The Milkman of Human Kindness” by Billy Bragg.

Please make use of the comments on this post for questions, suggestions, comments and pizza orders.

It occurs, on reflection, that the pizza business may be somewhat obscure, so let me nutshell it for you. Someone SJ and I know was telling this story about how she had ordered a pizza, and had, for ridiculous reasons, not paid by credit card at the time. So, when the pizza arrived, and she was in her bathrobe, she had invited the pizza delivery guy in and chatted, and given him a glass of water while she called to sort out the order. Subsequently, the pizza boy called to offer her free pizza, possibly with an implication of liking her, and seeing her again, and she had refused rather equivocally, so he had called again a day or two later. This calling, she described to us as “stalking” and “harrassment”; hence some of the hilarity and calls not to be so pathetic. Hope that enlightens those of you who may have been bewildered.

A Tale of Yuppieville.

Let me lay an anecdote of the lulz on you.

First, some background. I live in what passes for an inner-suburban area in the suburban hellhole of this city. Which is to say, inner-suburbia here is kind of like middle-suburbia in any actual other city in the world. We are on the edge of an area undergoing what might be kindly called aggressive urban renewal, where bungalows which were $250,000 a scant 5 years ago now sell for upwards of $800,000, at which point they are promptly bulldozed and replaced by 2 conjoined townhouses selling for $1mil apiece.

This yuppie housing is occupied for the most part by young couples who are just starting to pop out the progeny. I know this because the moms, dressed in lululemon, frequently jog the progeny around in those chariot things, with a dog dragging along the side. While the dads head off to the city to their corporate jobs, taking express bus the onerous 10 minute commute to downtown, because parking the Prius in the city centre is a nightmare. You know the type.

We have a shopping area a few blocks from our house, smack in the middle of Yuppie Wonderland, where there is a street that has half a dozen cafes (which would be impressive, perhaps, to someone who hadn’t gone to university within a stone’s throw of Lygon Street, a street which makes half a dozen cafes look like some kind of sad wannabe). There’s also a shopping area with what is meant to be retro charm, but is in fact, embarrassingly obvious faux retro charm, sporting a range of stores from the boutique kids’ clothing store to the boutique dog food store. And, of course, the supermarket with pretensions, which has a Starbucks in.

The picture here is painted so you get the idea:  lots of SUVs, and shoppers with cash; this is not your cheap-ass, low-end shopping area with drunks, bogans and casual shoplifters. It is at the liquor store attached to the grocery store that our story takes place.

It is late-ish evening, perhaps an hour before the store closes, and there is one person in the store, at the cash register. Feckless Husband, lately renamed Sporty Spice by SJ, is purchasing some wine. (I know, the revelation that we drink wine shocks you. Where is my winepal button, you wonder.) He takes his choices to the cash register, lining up behind a couple of people, including an elderly couple who have a shopping cart full of their purchases.

The clerk moves Elderly Couple over to the second register, where there is more room, or something, and rings up their wines and liquor, totalling a couple hundred dollars. Elderly lady fumbles around in her purse for her card to pay, while Elderly Gent loads up the cart again to take their purchases out to the car.

The clerk and the patrons wait patiently while Elderly Lady dodders about, looking for her Air Miles, or whatever. The she says “Oh, I forgot something,” which surprises no one. She wanders to the back of the store, while the clerk uses his second register to ring up someone who is waiting.

Then to everyone’s surprise, Elderly Lady stops doddering and suddenly scoots out the door, jumps into the car, and they zoom off. The clerk stands there, dumbfounded, but what is he to do? If he chases the perps, the other customers in the store may well make their own criminal dash.

“Did that just happen?” he asks.