The Adventures of Accordion Guy in the 21st Century

While I’m on the topic of dating: I’m still getting linked to from other blogs about the New Girl story. From some pretty big names in the blogosphere, no less — Asparagirl has just linked to the story, driving my hits up once again. I’m going to have to pay my Web hosting company a little extra money this month, but it’s nothing that 15 minutes of accordion playing on a good night couldn’t fix.

I’m also still getting lots of nice emails from strangers sending their condolences, offering free beer and wishing me well in general. Thanks, everybody!

Some of you have been asking if I’ve seen or heard from New Girl. Here’s the latest:

• She’s been seen about town, but not at her usual haunts. What with all the negative press she’s been getting from local LiveJournals in the wake of my story, she hasn’t set foot in any of the local haunts for some time.
• Someone mentioned that she was crashing on the couch of a fellow member of Cocaine Anonymous, but got tossed out a few days later.
• When she has no place to crash, she often checks herself into the psych ward of a local hospital. She treats it as if it were a cleaner, if quirkier, free youth hostel (remember, we have universal medicare here in Canada) and uses a paperback copy of Girl, Interrupted as a guide for “acting the part”.
• The cops seem to be very interested in finding her. Apparently, she’s got a court date for a fraud case. She was also somehow involved in a party that got busted, and when the cops questioned her, she gave them the name and address of her Cocaine Anonymous sponsor as her own.
• I recently got email from her, and have added her to the “blocked” list. Really, New Girl, what makes you think I want to hear anything you have to say?
• New Girl has a fan! In the comments section of another blog, a woman who somehow confused feminism with vengeance has this to say:
  

  There’s only “injury” here because the “victim” had his/her own expectations of the duper. I’ve known better dupers than the one he met – I see no need for moral outrage. The only people they “injure” are people who want something from them, and don’t get it [or don’t get it back once they give it]. And pointing out double standards between the sexes is not a “man-vs-woman” thing, it’s just an individual opinion thing. Oh but sorry to interrupt the flow of the moral condemnation for “bad behaviour”. I realize that’s important to some of you… so please… resume the ‘tsk tsk’ talk n’ the public flogging of this evil spidery deceitful wench… I’ll piss off.

  Sorry Joey I hadn’t seen your last post. I’m glad you’re starting to see that I wasn’t “relishing in your pain” [you were a hypothetical stranger when I first commented] but rather simply taking issue with this woman [or anyone] being tarred n’ feathered online for doing what seemed [from your own account] like little more than masterfully lying to you about her identity and *not* living up to your romantic expectations [annoying yet somewhat benign in and of itself]. It seemed to me a double standard to condemn her as some kind of harpy, since… when men do the same as her, it’s passed off as mere “bad boy” behaviour. As for her criminal record and “bad behaviour” – I still feel that’s for the law to decide, not rumour mills and virtual stoning [which is what is happening – even if her ID is withheld]. I don’t know this woman. Hell – *you* don’t know this woman either by what you describe. And me – I was simply uncomfortable with the idea that I was expected to fall in line and throw another rock at her. I admire her guts and her obvious talent – that doesn’t mean I’m glad she hurt you. I see you as partly to blame for your own situation – that also doesn’t mean I think you “deserved” it and it also doesn’t mean I’m glad she hurt you. Brief – more personal responsibility – less rock throwing.

  I never “relished” in Joey’s pain – I merely celebrated power in un-expected places. You think the world owes you the “truth”?

  I won’t link to the comments directly, because they’re from someone else’s blog, and I don’t want to start scrapping there. Blogs are people’s homes on the Web, and you don’t bring fights to other people’s homes.

  As for New Girl’s one and only fan, a little advice: when you live in a moral vaccuum, you cannot help but suck. Make good on your promise and piss off, willya?

• I didn’t even know there was such a thing as Cocaine Anonymous. Did you?

…but you wouldn’t know it from Hollywood movies. Even in the “enlightened” future of the Star Trek universe, the portrayals haven’t been all too hot: while one can easily imagine Hikaru Sulu getting action, it’s more difficult to do the same with uber-wuss Harry Kim. I’ve eaten salads with more macho.

Tak Toyoshima, the writer and artist behind Secret Asian Man, summed it up pretty nicely:

If there is hope for the portrayal of Asians in Hollywood as something other than gooks or geeks, it’s in films like Better Luck Tomorrow. Check out the trailer and if you live in Accordion City, let me know if you want to catch it with me next week.

And as for the blogosphere, I think I’ve proven that Asian guys do get the girl…it’s just that sometimes, getting the girl isn’t all that it’s cracked up to be. Anyhow, as a public service, here are some mackin’ photos of a certain accordion-playing Thrilla from Manila…

This girl once mentioned to me that I was the only person she knew to ever mention the Mason-Dixon Line in casual conversation. I’d said something like “Going south of the Mason-Dixon line is sometimes like going back in time a hundred years.”

However, as long as they’re trying to revive whites-only proms in Georgia, I think the term — and my remark — still apply. For starters, the young lady and her very charming accordion-playing gentleman friend in the picture above wouldn’t be allowed to go.

(According to the article, one of the rationales behind the whites-only prom was a desire to “avoid problems arising from interracial dating”. As an expert in this field, the only problems arising from interracial dating all stem from the bigotry of others. That’s the problem with wearing pillowcases on your heads, people — they’re cutting off the oxygen to your brains.)

[Thanks to Smittie, who pointed me to cls.blog, for the link.]

Here’s a first for the blog: I’m going to open with a show tune…

The Lusty Month of May

from the musical “Camelot”

by Lerner and Loewe

Tra la, it’s May, the lusty Month of May

That lovely month when everyone goes blissfully astray

Tra la, it’s here, that shocking time of year

When tons of wicked little thoughts merrily appear

It’s May, It’s May, that gorgeous holiday

When every maiden prays that her lad will be a cad

It’s mad, it’s gay, alive, a lust display

Those dreary vows that everyone takes, everyone breaks

Everyone makes divine mistakes

The Lusty Month of May

Whence this fragrance wafting through the air?

What sweet feelings does it’s scent transmute?

Whence this perfume floating everywhere?

Don’t you know, it’s that dear forbidden fruit

It’s May, the lusty month of May

That darling month when everyone throws self-control away

It’s time to do a wretched thing or two

And try to make each precious day one you’ll always rue

It’s May, it’s May, the month of “Yes, you may”

The time for every frivolous whim, proper or im-

It’s wild, it’s gay, depraved in every way

The birds and bees with all of their vast amorous past

Gaze at the human race aghast

The Lusty Month of May

Tra la, it’s May, the lusty Month of May

That lovely month when everyone goes blissfully astray

Tra la, it’s here, that shocking time of year

When tons of wicked little thoughts merrily appear

It’s May, it’s may, the month of great dismay

when all the world is brimming with fun, wholesome or un-

It’s mad, it’s gay, alive a lust display

Those dreary vows that everyone takes, everyone breaks

Everyone makes divine mistakes

The Lusty Month of May

Long before the Communists appropriated the holiday and turned it into a day for dour marches, tanks in Red Square and excessive smugness in postmodern English Lit departments at most universities, May Day was associated with actual celebration. The ancient Romans, the first people to consider turning the word “party” into a verb, turned the day into a tribute to the fertility goddess Flora.

The Anglo-Saxons — before they got into country clubs, bookends shaped like ducks and The Official Preppy Handbook, back when they were still a fun people — referred to the day as Beltane, a celebration marking the return of spring. It’s still celebrated today by some Wiccans. (A quick aside: The best way to annoy a Wiccan is to say “Hey, you guys make cool baskets”. Or just point out death metal bands that use their holiday.)

The French associate the month of May with both the Virgin Mary and cows, though I believe they do so in separate ceremonies.

This article says that in the Czech Republic, boys at night place maypoles before their sweethearts’ windows. This is obviously some kind of double-entendre.

In Hawaii, the first of May has been called Lei Day, which I’m also sure is another double-entendre.

As for me, May Day has its own meaning: on this day in 1999, a Saturday, my friend Krazy Karl Mohr and I took our accordion out on the street for the very first time, and our lives haven’t been the same since. Here are some of the great things that have happened because of the accordion:

• Our first day out — May 1, 1999
• It’s gotten me a number of television appearances: MuchMusic’s Much On Demand, Love By Design, and a number of tech-related news clips on CNN, MSNBC, TechTV, ABC and last but certainly not least, Naked News.
• It’s landed me several job offers as well as a couple of jobs as a programmer, once while I was on a date (which the accordion helped me get, anyway).
• It landed me a job as a go-go dancer.
• It’s saved my ass — literally — from a body cavity search by U.S. Customs.
• The accordion got me a date in Prague and saves me from a mugging (see the December 31, 1999 part)
• The Stagette. (Thanks to this story, I still have the number one Google entry for the word “stagette”.)

Happy Accordion day, everybody!

Case in point: Wicket W. Warrick the Ewok, hero of the Battle of Endor, has his own Friendster page.

I wonder if he’ll be friends with me.

(Just so you know, this posting makes mention of female body parts “below the equator”. Read at your own risk.)

Char came over for dinner last night, and over pork chops and salad, she explained the short story she was working on.

“It’s about this woman who has teeth in her vagina,” she said, with the nonchalance of an airline stewardess pointing out the oxygen masks during the safety demonstration.

“Vagina dentata [link extremely unsafe for work],” I said in acknowledgement.

“Exactly. And she uses these teeth. She dresses up as a novice nun and goes to clubs and bars, where she tricks men into thinking that they’re taking advantage of her. Then she bites their dicks off.”

“Eugh,” said Paul and I, almost simultaneously.

“But you know, she eventually falls in love.”

“Of course,” I replied.

I think she’s been reading too much Chuck Palahniuk.

Jet Lin (not to be confused with Jet Li) came up with a vile food idea. When a Krispy Kreme store opened in a mall across the hall from a Fatburger restaurant, he was inspired to invent the Fat Kreme: a Fatburger with two Krispy Kreme glazed originals replacing the bun. Here’s what it looks like…

…and there’s a photo essay featuring Jet actually eating the Fat Kreme. My arteries are clogging at the mere sight of the photos, and I’m sure Dr. Atkins is spinning in his low-carb grave.

Luckily, while we do have a couple of Krispy Kreme stores here in Accordion City, I don’t think there’s a Fatburger anywhere outside the United States. But please don’t mention this to my brother-in-law or my friend Jeremy — they may still try this Krispy Kreme trick with burgers from another chain.

[Found via Anil Dash’s weblog, which in turn led me to Neonepiphany.]

Recommended reading

Krispy Shots! Fine liquor and a Krispy Kreme donut. Barney Gumbel meets Homer Simpson.

Krispy Kreme wedding cake! I’m having one of these at my wedding. I suppose I should scrounge up a fiancee first.

Believe it or not, you can buy or make low-carb donuts. I have no idea how they taste.