Hot Scientist du Jour: Neri Oxman

I was anonymously chastised recently for not keeping up to date with the latest Hot Scientists. Truth is I’ve been very busy with work, buying a new home and pursuing my own degree, so please people, give me a damned break. I didn’t even think people read this tripe.

Regardless, apparently the latest científico caliente is a hot Material Scientist named Neri Oxman. She’s a PhD out of MIT with a specialty in some kind of adaptive material design, she’s so specialized she had to create her own vocabulary, her new word… Materialecology. What does that mean? As far as I can figure it means she has a Doctorate in Beanbag Chairs. That’s OK though, because I understand that UConn is giving out PhD’s in Comic Books . Personally, I’m planning my dissertation around seducing seafood… not the seductive nature of seafood, but rather the practice of shellfish seduction.

Speaking of seduction, back to Neri. She straddles the scientific and art world with her tactile installations of breathing buildings that not only look good, but I’m guessing, feel good too. So she’s thinking about breaking down the ideas behind building… well buildings and developing the kind of design paradigms that would give Frank Lloyd Wright a chubby. Personally, all I can think about is her beautifully sculpted alabaster jawline, her full bodied and untamed brunette mane and her impeccable taste in dinner companions.

So in closing and in the interest of continuing the theme from this year’s World Science Fest, the closest nekkidness I could find with a common name was the Italian Scream Queen, Rosalba Neri. Enjoy and I promise more Hot Scientist Babes in the near future…

The Language of Love

I’m sure everyone out there feels that one of the benefits of having a regular ‘significant other’ is that you hopefully get the chance to teach this person the things that make you happy.

I’ve always made a habit, for good or bad, of taking that benefit to extremes. One thing that most of my past lovers will attest to is my penchant to train them toward my likes and dislikes, rewarding good behavior and correcting bad behavior. I might be likened to a sexual Cesar Milan, my ‘calm, assertiveness’ often times leads to running a young lady around the room like a Lipizzaner.

One of the most interesting result is the development of certain keywords or commands that may be uttered out in public. They always seem to give rise to curiosity, so in the interest of disclosure, here are a few of the more common…

“Mouse Hand/Feet” – This is usually called out as a warning and is the result of the young lady leaving an appendage uncovered for some time and then trying to surreptitiously slip it near a toasty part of my body to warm it up.

“Kitten Time” – This act often manifests on the couch and involves the young lady trying to curl up into a ball on my lap. I’m much more conducive to this behavior with the addition of liberal ‘kneading’.

“Releasing the Dragons” – This is fair warning of the imminent release of flatulent gas. It evolved from the blaming of fart noises on frogs, however as the noise and smell increased, so did the animal emitting it.  It has so been incorporated into the vernacular that we’ll often warn each other of any passing stench by simply calling out “dragons”.

“Butt Love” – Far more innocent than one might assume, this typically involves some basic bare ass scratching. Mind you sometimes a warning is in order if the lady happens to pull an ‘Iceman’ and stray into the “Danger Zone”.

“Lady Blanket” – This behavior is one of my favorites and is most often called out from my stomach at which time the young lady will drape her body directly over  mine for some given time and then will slowly raise herself by walking her hands down my back, often leading to some ‘alignment’ cracking. There is a variation where I may be on my back but this most often ends, as one might suspect, in coitus.

“Blues Harp” – A variation on the classic fellatio involving the young lady cupping my whole package in her hands and then running her mouth along my undersides like John Popper on meth (OK, very poor imagery, but I’m sure you get the idea).

Needless to say there are several more but perhaps I’ve encouraged some people to make their own specialty erotic dim sum menu.

In other news, I’ve started work on another web project which I’ve become a bit passionate about, stay tuned for more updates about

A Mediocre Life

I admit, the last few months I’ve been a bit more of a consumer than producer. It’s not that I haven’t had profound and hilarious things to say, I’ve just found it much more gratifying to mumble them into a pint of Boddington’s than post them on the internet. It’s also had a bit to do with this weather. This is the first time in 3 months the temperature has reached 60 degrees. I now realize why bears hibernate through all this white stuff.

I tweaked my back recently which due to the mysteries of the human body led to a good deal of chest pain. You may not know this but when a 350lb whining baby complains about chest pains people get nervous, numbers get dialed, lights flash, sirens blare, adhesives stick to chest hair… and who wants that shit? So, I’ve been seeing a Physical TheRapist, if you’ve ever been in the service of a PT you know that they are definitely wearing the wrong uniform for the job. She cured me, I no longer complain about my chest pain, I know better now… Mistress.

Dr. Ira Pebois

The truth is, the last four to five years have really devolved into an experiment. When I moved back to Orlando, I told the nurse that I wanted to attempt to have a real relationship. I wanted to experience a normal life, I wanted to know what ‘rush-hour traffic’ is all about, I wanted to go to work like a regular person, regular car, regular house, regular problems, a real regular life.

I think I got my wish, as awkwardly as usual, but now what? Give me a hint!