Bang on

Through the pretext of her work, Peaches has been kind enough to set me up with an online language learning account. So I've spent a large part of my morning, repeating into the computer's microphone: "De hond".... "De kat"... "Een meisje en een paard".

Part of the course relies on mimicking the exact sounds of the example voice - which on my course, is a 40-year-old man. My balls haven't dropped yet, so I'm struggling to get the pitch right. It took me a while to get the system to even register my voice, a bit longer because I had to time my recordings in between the hammering upstairs (the heaving thumping was scoring higher on the voice recognition than my attempts at gutteral Dutch). After 10 minutes of hyperventilation, I finally managed to register one sentence with satisfaction.

"De jongens rennen de meisje achtna..." which according to Peaches sounds something like 'ramming from behind'. Dirty!

Speaking of heaving thumping and ramming from behind (because we were), Mills and I had a great time going though all 300 of our new channels last night. To our delight, we have access to Playboy TV, Spice Platinum, Blue Hustler and the Sailing Channel. A little something for everyone there. We were disappointed to learn that most of these channels are only available after 11pm (the sailing channel is on 24/7 - who can ever get enough of yachting watching?), but the late porno would entail staying up past our flannel-pajama bedtime. One channel, however, is on all-day-everyday... as we flipped through, lamenting the lack of 7pm-porn viewing, three man-lollies, double penetration and a chick on a dog lead popped onto our screen. Hmmm, so much for social consciousness.

ps. The Nigerian phone scammers have been busy this morning. The calls started at 8:15 and have been going since then. I've managed to turn the sound down (thanks, Rev) so now I get a dull satisfaction from knowing that They WILL NOT drive me nuts today as I watch the busy-light flashing on the consol. At the end of the day I'll turn my phone back on to normal, but every time someone calls I'll be wondering... Is it Them? Are they watching me? What do they want from me? Can't I just sell them an ovary and get it over and done with? I DON'T HAVE A FAX!