Turkish Borat?

If I didn't know any better, I'd think that this was the inspiration for Borat.

I Kiss You!

http://www.istanbul.tc/mahir/mahir/

The past few weeks

I started a new practicum a couple weeks ago, which means that twice a week I go to the State Psychiatric hospital and do any number of things: testing, running groups, training people on how to become competent to stand trial. Most of these guys (most are men) are there because they've committed some crime, but were found not guilty for reason of insanity. It's been an interesting experience so far, I think I'll actually like it a lot, although every time I'm there I do come face to face with the fact that I'm working in a government facility.

Take Wednesday, for example. I was given my computer password and decided to check my Wash U email. No dice. A screen comes up saying I'm not allowed to do that. Must be some mistake. I try again. Same screen. Reading a little closer, I realize that it says "any web-based email" is forbidden. Sure enough, when I try my Yahoo mail and Gmail, those too fail to load.

Still annoyed, but slightly intrigued, I decide to test the system. What else can't I do or see? I figure there's some obvious stuff, like naked people, but where does the government draw the line?

Let's try hotornot....nope. Forbidden categories? "Provocative attire, Dating/Social".

Friendster. Also "Dating/Social". Won't be going there.

My fantasy football leagues? (Pleasepleasepleaseplease.....) Denied. They are considered "Games," and games are a no-no.

How about a harmless look at The Onion. Ha! Outrageous. You can't see The Onion! After all, everyone knows it's "Profanity/Humor". And that's just not ok. Maybe one or the other would have been ok, but the mix is just too much.

Interestingly enough, if you try to go to some sites, you get a message saying "Your organization prefers that you not view this site," but then you allowed to proceed anyway, at your own risk. This happened for blogs and ESPN.com. I had forgotten what it was like to work in a government facility, where stuff like this is commonplace, although if I remember correctly it wasn't nearly this bad when I worked at NIH.

Anyway, there's that. Also - Dave posted again! Not that it's a big deal, except it had been about 4 MONTHS. And then he calmly posts about getting to play with a band at a bar, as if he hadn't been neglecting his blog readers all summer long. Come on, Dave. Blog etiquette. If you're gone that long, you need to apologize in some way, to at least give the impression that you care and at least give the impression that lots of people are waiting anxiously for your next nugget of wisdom. Or profanity/humor. Or whatever your blog is.

So Dave's discussion of his Thursday night tradition reminded me of a new Thursday night tradition I have begun with Kia and an ever-growing group of Wash U people. Karaoke.

Yes, it's true. It's karaoke. And I love it. It's not your typical kind either, at some dive or hole-in-the-wall with stumbling idiots trying to carry a tune. It's at a pretty nice Italian restaurant, way too far away for it to be convenient, so it's sort of a trek that just adds to the overall experience. The man and woman who run it (I think they're married) are great. They'll play along with the songs on inflatable guitars, saxophones, and keyboards, and they make it a good time. The song selection is pretty amazing too. So far, I've found myself singing the following crowd-pleasing favorites:

-New Age Girl
-Buddy Holly
-(I Hate) Everything About You
-Big River (duet with Kia)
-Ode to my Car (back-up vocals for Tal)
-Crazy - the one by Seal (duet with Tal)

Then, there was the "drum incident". Mind you, this happened the first week I was there. Brand new to the place, just trying to have a good time. In the corner, near the sound equipment, are a set of drums. Here and there a guy comes and plays them. He looks like he works at the restaurant. He's awful. I mean, horrid. Can't keep the beat. Hitting drums and cymbals without any sense of time or rhythm or anything. Everyone is wincing. It's almost funny how bad he is. Fortunately, he's using brushes so it's not too loud, and he eventually stops and goes away.

Then Tal and Noam tell me they're going to sing "Under the Bridge" and could I accompany them on the drums? Are you kidding? Absolutely.

So our time comes, and we go up and Tal checks with the karaoke people to make sure they're ok with me playing. One of them looks hesitant, then says "If you play quietly." I should have taken that as a sign. But...I didn't. So we start, and I take a seat at the drums. And I start playing and it feels pretty nice. Had I been looking around more, I probably would have seen the guy staring at me. The song ends, and we sit down.

Then it gets kind of strange. A woman comes over to my table and starts apologizing to me for how the guy was glaring at me. I told her I didn't notice. She then not-so-subtlely implied that, while it was rude of him to glare at me, I shouldn't have been using his drumset in the first place. I got the message: Don't do it again. Later on, the same woman came over again, and somehow in the course of our conversation, said that the guy felt that what I had done was like having sex with his wife right in front of him. Oh, and that guy is the owner of the restaurant.

Ok, so I basically had sex with the wife of the owner of this Italian restaurant, and he may or may not want to bring me to the back alley and break my kneecaps. I'm a little scared now.

On the ride home, however, feeling a little more confident and a little less fearful for my life, I decided that what he had done was not great business. It's my first time there and I get yelled at for using drums that are just sitting right there? And by a second party, no less. The guy himself couldn't even come and tell me himself. The idea surfaced that we should never go back again, given the crap that we just went through. But no, we have to go back. We can't let this guy scare us away. We have to return. And we did. Every week since then (except for one).