Kissing an Octopus

I went out on a date last weekend. The date went well, and at the end of the date, I found myself at his place. We were just going to drop off the doggie bag at his refrigerator, and then hit a bar for a nightcap. Before any of you say, “He just wanted to get you into bed; that’s the dropping-something-by-the-house move”, yeah, I knew that. We had a drink at his place (an Australia Shiraz), and we continued our conversation out on his deck. He is cute, but a little timid.

I told him I was tired, and needed to get back home, and we kissed by my car in his driveway. I could tell he wanted to kiss me, and I figure one kiss and back home. Well, what I did not count on was that he was a really good kisser. After about a minute kissing, his hands started roving. And like most guys, he went straight for my ass. I blocked his move with my hand, grunted “n’t, nah” into our continued kissing, as we continued. After another minute, I suggested that we sit down for a minute.

The next hour, we were on the couch, kissing. Every ten minutes or so, he would reach his hand towards my ass and breasts, and I always countered. When I was a twenty-something co-ed, I hated guys who were all hands. This, however, was much more enjoyable. He knew his boundaries and tested them, normally after a barrage of wonderful kisses. I would make some comparison to hockey and red lines and icing, but I really don’t know enough about hockey to make the analogy work.

The point is that dating, even dating people who want things other than me, can be fun anyway. I mean, part of me wanted to do more than kiss, but the kissing was . . . awesome. Okay, to read the previous sentence correctly, you need to sing the word ‘awesome.’ And I don’t want the kissing to end. Sometimes when things progress, awesome kissing stops. And the roving hands was sort of hot, too. I mean, it was hot because all it took was some light pressure or a no-no groan, and he played nice. Now, I don’t know when he will call next (during the date, I told him I was really busy today), but he will call. I just have to figure out how to interact with him that does not lead to me losing my panties on a second date.

Versatile Blogger Award

I’ve been nominated by the talented and music-loving Xmichra with the “Versatile Blogger Award” (pictured above)

This award is a way to give some virtual “shout-outs” to other bloggers you follow and whom others might not yet have discovered. People on my recently resurrected blog probably know Xmichra – she’s Canadian, so she misspells words like ‘color’ and ‘honor.’ And she knows more about music than I ever did.

The rules:

1) Publicly thank the award giver and link to them in your post.
2) Tell your readers 7 things about yourself that you might not have already.
3) Present this award to other bloggers whose work you enjoy and
4) Contact the honorees

On to the Nitty-Gritty:

1 – I love really good seafood, but I also eat at Red Lobster. I really like their rolls, but I hate their broccoli. Their broccoli is disgusting most of the time, and there is nothing else green on the menu. I don’t really know why I eat there, but I do, and I don’t tell others about it.

2 – I swore I would never dye my hair, and now, I dye my hair. I don’t know if I would dye it if I were in a happy marriage. It shocks me that I dye my hair; completely against all I believe in.

3 – I am not on Facebook. And until recently, I was not really on any site. Life is better, I think, when we avoid these sites (even blogging sites). Just my opinion.

4 – I didn’t know how to drive until I was 18 years old. I got a learner’s permit at 14, but I never drove. One week before entering college, I purchased a crappy car and got my driver’s license. I failed the driving test the first time I took it and passed the second time (my total amount of time behind the wheel by then was less than two hours. When I went to school, I drove 150 miles. I spent more time in the car driving than my whole life. When I drive now, I assume there is at least one similar driver on the street like I was at 18. Scares the hell out of me.

5 – When I was a sophomore in college, I saw one of my former professors in a bar and he hit on me.

6 – My first kiss with tongue was with my cousin. I did not French kiss anyone else for 3 years afterwards because it was so gross. I have a feeling I really missed out for those three years.

7 – I don’t watch much television, but when I do happen to like a show, it gets canceled soon-there-after. The latest show: The Unusuals.

And the Pay it Forward goes to:

And I still think so - He is a real writer, I am just a pale imitation. Sometimes I am not sure what he is writing about, but I love the meter.

Peace of My Mind - A few years ago, I would tease Leesa, since we share a name. She lives in a house where bears visit, and that is not just symbolism.

The Muse Wakes - She is a bit like me. She stopped writing for some time, then stated again.

Discombobulating Grant - Another writer. He knows more about the craft than me, but he hides it well by posting pics of young Asian women.

Smiling Through It All - I have read Karen for a while. She has a razor sharp wit, and I enjoy her posts.

Two of the five people Xmichra picked would have been people I would originally have had on my list.

TMI

Too much information.

Okay, I was involved in two conversations recently. During the conversations, all I could think is, “you are just giving me too much information.” I will share the information to illustrate this point (and it doesn’t count for me – this information is not mine).

Plane Trip
I was recently traveling, and I sat next to a kind-looking woman.

First, I would like to tell you how I look for a seat (I fly Southwest Airlines, where there is no assigned seating). I actually like no assigned seating. The first thing I do is try to get a number that is in the high A’s or low B’s. Southwest, when you check in online or in person, assigns you a sequential number. You can pay $10 to get in the first 15, but I caution against it. Get the high As or low Bs. I like at least 1/3 to 1/2 of the plane full, so I get to pick who I am sitting next to. With assigned seating or low numbers, you don’t get to pick. And I pick a skinny person who is reading, if at all possible. That way, I get to use all of my seat and elbow space and I don’t have to hold up a conversation. Male or female, it does not matter to me at all. I am all about elbow room.

Anyway, kind-looking woman, after the plane takes off, starts talking with me. She wanted to talk about her kids. Both are early 20s and both work in the same Hooters. She shows me a picture of her daughter, and says, “She is so smart, and she said she would only work there for three months. She has been a waitress at Hooters for two years now.” Then she tells me about her looser boyfriends. Her name for one was “looser.” That’s what she called him. When I was dating, my parents were really nice to my loser boyfriends, because they knew I would continue to date looser boyfriends. Their disapproval was part of the attraction, I found out later. The same parents who were all about delayed satisfaction (eat your food before playing in the McDonald’s playground, for instance), wanted me not to date losers. I figure there must have been something good about them that was not good for me but satisfying.

If I had a daughter who worked at Hooters, I don’t think I would be bragging about it to strangers.

Transgendered Children
I was on a first date with a gentleman who had four children (two from his first wife, two from his second). Okay, I knew he was divorced before, but I didn’t know twice before the date. Dating at my age and most of the men have been married before.

Anyway, he tells me about one of his sons. I first thought the son was male, but it happens that his son is a 19-year-old transgendered female. Now, I don’t know too much about the TG world, but I did find out a lot on my first date with him. Well, apparently her measurements are similar to mine (I did not tell my date that).

During the date, he answer and talks on his cell phone, talking to the TG son, and apparently my date was dissuading the 19-year-old son from going swimming in a public pool. Apparently he wears men’s swim trunks – so basically it is a TG female swimming topless.

I have never really thought about TG issues, but I am not sure I would have brought up the issue on a first date. My head was spinning all evening, and I was a bit distracted. At the end of the evening, I knew little about my date and a lot more about his TG son. I don’t know if I like the guy, but I declined a second date because I figure it was easier to decline now than to figure out the whole TG issue at a later date.

I just think we share way too much information way too soon. And I am not sure why.

Tapped

I was supposed to put something out yesterday, and I didn't. I am tapped out.

I have written a few pages this morning, but they are for a play, not for the blog. It is a children's play - part of something I am doing for some volunteer work. It does not really matter what it is, but I look at the computer screen and I am tapped out of ideas.

I mean, I could talk about the US being in the finals of the Gold Cup again - but how many people watch soccer between World Cups? Okay, in many other countries, people care about soccer every year.

I guess I am focussed on other things right now. Perhaps I should just finish up my non-blog writing. And then clean my kitchen.

Manners

Alamo Drafthouse
A woman was thrown out of an Alamo Drafthouse theater for texting, and she calls up to complain. Obviously, the message she left on the theater’s voice mail made its way to a commercial for the theater to use to inform others that texting won’t be tolerated. I know, she starts out by saying she used the cell phone as a flashlight, but then she talks about texting. She probably used it to find her seat and then started texting.



Cell Phone on NY Train
Then someone catches a woman traveling on New York's Metro North train line telling train employees that she is too "well-educated" to be told to quiet down and not use profanity in her cell-phone conversation. Part of the conversation:

"Do you know what schools I've been to? How well-educated I am?"

"I'm sorry do you think I'm a little hoodlum?"



What do these two examples have in common? Well, I would say that there are two examples of grown-ups (why do they both have to be women?) who are not particularly well-mannered.

When I was growing up in the south, we learned a lot about manners. Some of the things were a bit silly – to pause before entering a building when traveling with a boy/man to give him the opportunity to open the door for you. Elbows not on the table. Placement of spoons and forks and the like. Manners seemed to be imposed by grown-ups in order to remind us that they had control over us. Again, that is a 12-year-olds view of the world.

But then it struck me. Well, actually, it struck me while reading a book by Miss Manners (Judith Martin). In the book, she said that manners have been established in order to make people feel comfortable. I paused before entering a house so that if the man/boy was so inclined, they could hold the door for me. The placement of spoons and forks – the hostess serves food and equips guests with proper utensils to eat the food. Table setting placement indicates which utensils to be used for which food. That way, you can be sure to have the salad fork for use with the leafy veggies and the desert fork for the delicious pie.

For the above examples, I have ridden on commuter trains, and most passengers chose to entertain themselves in ways that do not impact fellow passengers. Most of these rides are an hour or so, and people generally read, work on laptops, sleep and text. None of these activities are particularly intrusive. Please remember that a train is for transportation, and most trains I have been on are a bit loud/bright so that keyboard sounds/screen light is not intrusive.

As for movie-goers, people are at the movie to watch the movie. Clicking on cell phones, bright lights and the like are intrusive to the movie-going experience. The texter does say that movie-goers in other theaters don’t care about texting. Some do, and manners are set to ensure that people are comfortable with social interactions.

New technology has us thinking of what should be socially acceptable. Although not universally accepted, it seems to me that the two people mentioned above seemed to be rude. We are not trying to penalize people and extinguish their fun. We have to acknowledge a few things that seemed to be lost to my generation: (1) we have obligations to others, (2) just because something is legal does not mean that it is necessarily condoned in polite society, and (3) we should strike a balance between individuality and conformity – and conform when it is polite to others.

Pink Slime

I don't know about you, but I have a few people who like to be "helpful" each week, and send me stuff to enrich my life. I get emails from people sending me phishing notices, virus notices, and even sometimes copies of police reports. Yeah, someone sent me an email alert from the local sheriff’s office - like I am not already scared of the world.

Well, someone sent me something the other day that was dealing with pink slime. I had never heard of it, but apparently a cable show (Jamie Oliver’s Food Revolution) covered it – and perhaps it started the “helpful” emails. Below is a clip – please don’t watch this if you are eating lunch.



I don’t eat hot dogs because of fillers, I don’t eat hamburgers because I just don’t like them, but I will occasionally eat other things with ground beef. And the email – and the clip – really turned my stomach. Well, I am not sure if I want to change how I am eating, though I don’t think I want to eat ground beef anymore. It is not that all ground beef has pink slime in it, but 70% of it does. And how can you tell. I just wish the USDA would make places just tell us if the meat contains pink slime. I guess since the USDA seems to have a tight relationship with big food, sometimes USDA doesn’t act in the best interest of its citizenry. If you are a US Citizen, you can sign a petition here.

I don’t purchase ground beef to cook with at home. I normally use ground turkey, and when that is unavailable (which is rare), then ground chicken. And now I am wondering if there is pink slime associated with turkey. If anyone knows, an answer would be appreciated.

What really worries me that pink slime is just the tip of the iceberg. Am I eating better food than my grandparents? I somehow don’t think I am.

Reading Bad Books

When I was in college, I picked up a book from the bargin bin. I remember the book's title well: Perfect Order. The book, written by Kate Coscarelli, was hard cover, the dusk jacket long lost, but the book was in good shape, except for a fat black felt tip pen mark along the book's bottom edge - the remnant mark.

I really don't remember too much about the plot line, but I remember it was the first novel I read and thought, "I can write better than this." Stephen King calls this "popping your literary cherry." It just occurred to me that someone may place this book on their favorites list - sorry if that is the case. The words used were predicable, the phrases over-used, and the characters were flat. There was some sex in the book - not Judy Collins sexual frequency, but more than I am comfortable with. I have nothing against sex - just that it should help move the story along, and these labored passages hindered the flow of the story. And some of the phrases did not make much sense.

Writers need to read bad books. It teaches you what not to do - what seems ineffective, trite, etc. And it also helps motivate you. Someone got a book published, and they wrote a real stinker. To be fair, I googled the book I mentioned, and the reviews are generally mediocre (scoring three of five stars).

Speaking of bad books, I just purchased a volume of poetry called Touch Me by Suzanne Somers.



I have not started reading it, but I really enjoyed Kristen Wiig reciting it recently. It is so bad it is good. I don't know if this makes me a bad person, but at this point, I figure at least I have not done anything terribly wrong with a twitter account.

---

Celtic Knot and Xmichra took up my challenge of writing Commencement Addresses. I was pleasantly surprised that someone attempted it, two someones. Please read their words - both really came up with something very fresh.

Meme: Commencement Address

Yesterday, I discussed giving myself a challenge of writing a Commencement Address. I don’t really have many people who read my blog, but this meme is more for myself than for others. It is just a writing exercise I suppose, inspired by all of the graduation news I have seen recently.

Here is the body of what I might say at graduation (below). If you do this exercise, let me know, and I will read yours as well.

When I was younger, I thought life was all about balance. In actuality, a balanced life is a life that does not challenge you. Sometimes you need to focus all of your energy into one area of your life. I mean, we don’t bat an eye when a new mother and father focus all of their energy on that bundle of joy; we recognize the importance of being unbalanced at times. I was unbalanced in college as well – studied continuously for a few weeks around finals. Spent another week going out every night (it is harder than it sounds).

Read to enhance your life, not to escape from it.

Have sex (religious folks can insert “in a marriage/monogamous relationship”) to express love, to wash away a crappy day, because your lover looks happy, sad or indifferent. Have sex to say “there is nothing this good on television.” Have sex more than you would admit to your friends because it helps us connect with the ones we most love.

Skinny dip in a public pool at least once. You will be able to draw upon that experience later in life and remember it fondly. And if you get caught, the stories might even be better.

Don’t trade sex for food. Unless the food is really good. Or you think the sex will be really good.

Eat your veggies and learn to cook. Learn to dress up things that are good for you with spice. And add spice to all aspects of your life. It makes the bland palatable, and it makes the wonderful extraordinary.

Say “yes” to a date when you want to say “no.” Either you will be pleasantly surprised, or you will have funny stories to tell others.

Forgive your family even if you don’t think they deserve forgiveness. The relationship with them is worth more than any lesson you can teach them. And swallowing pride is less painful than not sharing their lives when you get older.

Change the batteries in your smoke detector every six months.

Drink red wine.

Laugh at children’s jokes, even if you don’t get them. Or even if the joke is about farts or poo. Seeing them join in the laughter is worth every bit of the acting you may have to endure.

Technology, once Fix-a-Flat was developed, has not improved our lives at all.

Don’t be embarrassed to purchase condoms. If you are single, it means you are taking responsibility for your sexual health. If you are a woman, just think of it is making a statement about not relying on a man to protect you in all aspects of your life. But never make love with a man who you don’t think will protect you.

Buy memorable gifts for your nieces and nephews.

Alcohol won’t solve your problems, but it does make those around you seem more interesting.

You will find yourself trying on a dress you can’t afford that looks awesome on you. Buy the dress anyway.

I guess I could sum up these thoughts with the following. We are only on this earth for a short time - make the most of it. Don't let fear keep you from being the person you are called to be. And share your talents with the world; your gifts were never yours to keep anyway.

Giving Advice:A Challenge to Myself

I was shopping in a Target recently, and I heard one older mother criticize what I presume to be her son-in-law about an issue concerning a newborn child (grandchild to the mother). The son-in-law did not follow the advice, but she gave the advice in such a condescending, uncaring way that I was not all that surprised, even though the advice concerned the safety of the newborn.

A week or two ago, I saw a couple of YouTube graduation speeches - Tom Hanks and Amy Poehler. By the way, although I am still somewhat impressed with Ivy School graduates, I love the quote in Good Will Hunting: "See, the sad thing about a guy like you is in 50 years you're gonna staht doin some thinkin on your own and you're gonna come up with the fact that there are two certaintees in life. One, don't do that. And Two, you dropped a hundred and fifty grand on a fuckin education you coulda got for a dollah fifty in late chahges at the public library." I clipped the quote from IMDB - I don't speak or spell Bostonian.

Anyway, the Target incident and the recent commencement speeches gave me an idea for a challenge, well, two challenges.

The first one is a personal challenge - if I give advice, do it in such a way that I know that the advice is given out of love. That it is compassionate. That way, I know my true intent. If I am just being a "gotcha smart ass", it does not help the other person, and it pollutes my soul at the same time.

The second challenge is to me - and if you want to accept the challenge as well - for you, too. Write a commencement speech, and publish it on your blog. You can think about your audience (recommended) or not. But what would you say? What have you learned over your lifetime that you would want to tell a bunch of college graduates making their way into the world? And after you have read your words, are you still following them? I may try and bang something out by Friday. I actually hope that this comes easily . . . we should have these life lessons in an easy-to-retrieve place in our brains.

Oh, and if you do this, please point to these rules - or copy them in your post. Since this blog is all-but-dead, I figure all of my 5 readers would be better at starting the meme than me. I am not called to create memes.

Sweet Dreams

The other day, Zephyr made a comment concerning "I wish I had a sex dream."

While I can't help out Zephyr specifically, I wanted to tell you a little secret about unlocking sexy dreams. It works for me, and it may work for you. Now I have not done this in a while, but it works every time I have tried it.

I start by drawing a very hot bath before bedtime. I imagine it does not matter what kind of bath salts (which I prefer) or bubble bath you use. The trick is to stay in the bath a long time. I bring a book into the bath; any book will do. The trick is to get really sleepy because of the hot water and the reading.

Afterwards, I towel dry, but instead of getting into my comfy PJs, I slip into bed. I normally don't sleep au naturel. And I drift into a deep sleep.

During the night, I always seem to have erotic dreams. In the winter, I did this nighttime ritual three nights in a row, and it worked each time. If you normally sleep in the nude, my guess is that this will not work for you. Who knows, perhaps it just works for me. But it works like a charm, and it can be wonderful.

Who needs a boyfriend when you have a hot bath?

Strange YouTube profile

I sometimes watch YouTube - not for the cats, the drunk people falling off tables or the vloggers. I find old songs, and sometimes when the Daily Show makes fun of a video, I look for it.

Well, the other day, I noticed someone who signed my profile page. She sent a sweet note, but the note below was a bit upsetting. It said, "Great Channel lol". Okay, upsetting is not really the word. I was a little pissed. I don't really spend any time on my channel because I don't make videos. So I went to his/her site, just to see what a good channel looked like.

Well, his/her channel is a bunch of new age stuff. Most of the stuff on the site refers to J. Krishnamurti. Well, I had no idea who Krishnamurti was, so I looked for his site, or at least some article discussing the philosopher. After reading the stuff, I was still confused on what this guy believed. Here is a sample:

Freedom is not a reaction; freedom is not choice. It is man’s pretence that because he has choice he is free. Freedom is pure observation without direction, without fear of punishment and reward.

That is not the surprising part. The surprising part is that the background image is a repeating image of a woman (I have included a copy to the right of these words).

Someone who is all about interspection has the background of a hottie, and talks smack on other's pages. Just strange.

---

Speaking of strange, I got this sweet message from Katie in response to some constructive criticism:

Hey! I don't want you to think I took that song down because I was upset about what you said. I am doing a challenge with some friends where we have to write a song every week. And I haven't written a song since October - ie I cannot just summon up inspiration so I am really struggling. I agree with just about everything you said. (And so you know, this week's song is even worse.) But I will keep working at it - I promise. (:

Xmichra likes accustic versions of songs, and Katie just uses a guitar to accompany her voice. She also writes her own music. You ought to check her out. She is really good.

The Fine Print

I sometimes purchase tickets from Fandango, and when I was waiting in line recently, I read the fine print.

The first part of the fine print states, “Your purchase guarantees your admission.” Then it talks about getting their 30 minutes early for the best seats, etc. At the end of the fine print, it concludes with, “The theater management reserves the right to refuse admission on this ticket by refunding the purchase price.”

So my question is, how does your purchase guarantee admission when the theater management can refuse admission? That does not sound like a guarantee to me.

I don’t often read fine print. When I have to install updates to software, I don’t read the fine print. A bunch of legal stuff pops up, and I think it sort of says if the software screws up your computer, the software company cannot be held responsible. I click okay that I have read and agree with the fine print, but if I even really read the fine print, I would not install any software or updates.

I remember so long ago when I got my wisdom teeth out. I was in college, and I had to sign a piece of paper before they pulled my teeth out. The paper was filled with “fine print”, but with medical stuff, they don’t call it fine print. Anyway, it said something about the possibility of them breaking my jaw. Now, I didn’t want my teeth pulled because of that, even though they stated crowding my other teeth. I really don’t know what people did before dentists. Perhaps they just had overcrowded teeth.

I have read a lot of fine print, but the older I get, the more I wonder why I read it. I don’t want to know that there are chances a dentist can break a jaw. Imagine having surgery? What does that consent-to-treat paper look like? I am sure I don’t want to know.

I mean, coffee cups have fine print that the contents may be hot. Motorboats say that you should not operate them when you are drunk. Fine print is not for information dissemination; it is to protect the company’s legal arse.

I still can’t get over Fandango. When is a guarantee not a guarantee? Apparently when you purchase a ticket.

Comparing Price Tags

Xmichra does a Musical Revolution each Friday, where she shares music she has been listening to.

I want to do a comparison of the song Price Tag. Well, Jessie J originally released the video, but then some 12-year-old covered the song. Maddi Jane has a powerful voice for a little girl. The difference in thesong, as far as I can tell, is that she says "Dang" instead of "Damn."



I have started watching The Voice. The first two shows were the best - just dealt with the voice of the participant. Now they work on presentation, etc. For the two videos, obviously Jessie J has a more polished voice, and she sexes up the song. I just can't get over Maddi Jane's cover, though. I actually like the song better. It is less cynical, I suppose. More pure. But I just love the strong, not polished voice.

Learning while Driving – Not Procrastinating

I have a secret: I listen to The Modern Scholar audiobooks. You can check them out from many local libraries. Most of their subjects are on CD media (older selections may be cassette tape-based; I kid you not) now, so if you have a CD player in your car, you can learn while you drive. That’s what I have been doing, and it is a bit relaxing. These audio books are really just recorded lectures, more or less. And it is a way to learn something you may not normally learn in the course of your day.

One of the books (lectures?) I heard recently was called A History of Ancient Sparta. I thought the ancient Spartans were interesting. I mean, in school, they said that the men would go and fight the wars, and the women stayed home, raising kids and making all governing decisions. Sounds good to me. Well, this lecture series really smashes my 7th grade image of this culture.

I learned lots about the culture – I still have a lecture to go, which translates to three trips to the grocery, and a longer trip up the interstate, I suppose.

One of the things I was thinking about today dealt with how its citizens worked out. The Spartans were very opposed to being fat – its citizens worked out year-round, the men basically needing to be fit to fight. There is some evidence that some workouts were nude. Adolescent girls worked out nude, and they were encouraged to make fun of overweight adolescent boys. It seems to have motivated the boys to get fitter, the whole point of the public jibes.

In middle school, I enjoyed physical education in school, but I was quick to avoid any after-school sports. I did not want the jock designation – hey, I was a kid, and that seemed important at the time. Anyway, if I lived in ancient Sparta, it would have been fun to work out and poke fun at the boys.

More than anything, it reminds me even in ancient times (about 500 BCE), the Spartans had people who procrastinated. I really think this “putting things off” really limits our happiness. Or our productivity. Or both.

Someone I used to read (Carrie Ryan, a NY Times bestselling author, even uses a derivation of the word ‘procrastination’ in the title of her blog.

I am not sure I will start writing a blog again, but I am starting to write.

A Beautiful . . . Toilet

I saw an ad for a Kohler toilet that was so far from my reality that I was fascinated by it.



It about $6,300, it does a lot more than transport waste to the local sewer system. Normally I don’t suggest looking at a video when we can describe things with words, but if you want to be in awe, look at the video before reading further. Really.

The first think one notices is the design of the toilet. We are talking about a piece of plumbing that, at first, looks like a piece of modern art. Some sort of elegant three dimensional trapezoid. Press a button on the remote control, and the toilet comes to life. What originally worries me is that there is a remote control. If you misplace the television remote, and you have to use buttons on the television that’s not as convenient. If you misplace the toilet remote, you have to look for the darned thing, legs crossed. [Actually, there are auxiliary controls for the “basic functionality” of the unit.]

There is an advanced bidet that has pulsation, oscillation and wave patterns. If you can adjust the angle, this would seem like a water-waster (think about it). There is an integrated air dryer (think of what you would dry after the bidet (really). The seat is heated, and you even have warm air that can be a foot warmer.

For nightly trips to the most expensive appliance you may have in your house, there are illuminated panels to guide your way. Of course, you can also play music that could help guide you as well. And, yes, there is a connection for your MP3 player. I could find no information if Brad Paisley’s Ode de Toilet is included in the sound system.

Speaking of toilet preferences, there are “user presets” so that each person can customize their unique toileting experience. Bidet on or off (and type of stream preferred); warming tushie/tootsie or not. Music preferences. Whatever.

Okay, I am not ready for this toilet. When I can’t figure out how to use a toilet, I am below the ignorant zone. And I can’t let a toilet do that to me.