This was rather an odd week; no dates, although I did meet an eligible candidate for the ‘Jew of My Dreams’… A Rabbi…at a Bar Mitzvah.
I’ve been following the US Election carefully –on line, because I don’t like the unabashedly slanted reporting on BBC, and the CNN we get here is not quite ‘American’. I do endorse the BBC’s reporting slogan, however, “What happens there, affects us here (and we should all be crapping in our pants)’.
And when I’m at mine to watch it, I get the real dish from Jon Stewart on The Daily Show, an unbiased and hysterically funny account of what’s really going on. Thank goodness for Jon. Otherwise, I’d be really confused.
The not-so-subtle ‘America’s not-so-special anymore’ subliminal messaging even extends to the Web. I have an on-going battle with my laptop. Little Bro (my computer’s name) stubbornly insists that I’m in England, not Philadelphia, and spitefully keeps changing the clock to local time (that’s how come people sometimes get calls from me at 4:00 AM) and telling me the weather forecast in Surrey (rain… right through till the next Olympics) in Celcius (it was -4 degrees the other night; it made me nostalgic for Minnesota).
Anyhow, MSN.uk, which insists on opening itself up despite repeated pleas for the American one that doesn’t natter endlessly about Rooster and Beckett and the bloody Primeship had a featured article yesterday, ’20 Unforgettable Bush-isms’, complete with pictures of the Prez looking totally clueless. (I can relate. Really.)
Like at a road accident or a Live Sex Show, I couldn’t help looking.
They were pretty funny. So in the interest of balanced blogging, I’m repeating a few here.
"We cannot let terrorists and rogue nations hold this nation hostile or hold our allies hostile.”
“It’s clearly a budget. It’s got a lot of numbers in it."
“I understand small business growth. I was one."
“When I take action, I’m not going to fire a $2 million missile at a $10 empty tent and hit a camel in the butt. It’s going to be decisive.”
"I know what I believe. I will continue to articulate what I believe and what I believe — I believe what I believe is right.”
"For every fatal shooting, there were roughly three non-fatal shootings. And, folks, this is unacceptable in America. It’s just unacceptable. And we’re going to do something about it.”
“I promise you I will listen to what has been said here, even though I wasn’t here.”
“We actually misnamed the war on terror. It ought to be the Struggle Against Ideological Extremists Who Do Not Believe in Free Societies Who Happen to Use Terror as a Weapon to Try to Shake the Conscience of the Free World.”
“Our enemies are innovative and resourceful, and so are we. They never stop thinking about new ways to harm our country and our people, and neither do we.”
“I’m honored to shake the hand of a brave Iraqi citizen who had his hand cut off by Saddam Hussein.”
“Will the highways on the Internet become more few?"
Note to George W: Mr. President, I understand. I know exactly what you meant.
Work on the Thanksgiving Feast continues and I seem to be dashing from meeting to meeting or making tons of phone calls. It looks as though we’ll get a pretty decent turnout.
Gee…what else happened this week? Oh! I know. I dumped Repo Man.
We had ceased to be amused.
He lasted about a month, which was an eternity in ‘Keeping Jeano Happy’.
Note to Scary Fairy: Sorry about the Scrabble…
I could be a horrible cow and gossip about his resemblance to a Snowstorm (you never know if they’re going to come, how many inches you’ll get or how long it will last) but I won’t. Suffice to say Dickweed, Formerly Known as Bagpipe Guy, lasted about three months longer than he should have simply because he was utterly divine in the sack. With Repo Man I just got tired of …limp…excuses.
Note to Dickweed Formerly Etc. Etc.: I wouldn’t mind a proper shag.
Steve cancelled a date last minute last week (one of my especial no-nos) and when discussing it—no, I was discussing it; he was repeating the same excuse over and over—I thought “Why am I even bothering?”
He came over on Thursday night to go to the Quiz and ‘talk’. He was in a shirty mood and I was in a JAPPY one. Not a good start to the evening. We both forgot Walton Bridge is closed for repaving and his stupid sat-nav took us to the Ashtree by way of God knows where. I recognized Hampton Court when we passed it. He had a sissy-fit.
After the Quiz, he didn’t want to wait ten minutes for the others to be ready to leave so we could follow them back to Weybridge. Cheeese Boy gave him directions. Karen gave him directions. Terry gave him directions. Pinkie drew a bloody map and gave him step-by-step directions.
We got totally lost.
He had an even bigger sissy-fit and started to argue with his sat-nav, who insisted we wanted to take Walton Bridge. The sat-nav refused to be swayed. He kept yelling at it. We stopped on a road somewhere and I pushed hold and called Pinkie…urgently.
Pinkie, Terry and Rob came to pick me up on the side of the road in Sunbury.
Whilst waiting for the rescue party to arrive, Steve began telling me that everything (including his lousy performance) is my fault. I wasn’t buying that shit and said some unkind things. I hope he’ll be pondering them for quite a while. Hey…it’s never a good idea to piss me off.
I also had to wonder that even confused me can get around a very large city like Philadelphia and it’s various suburbs in a motor vehicle (and I’m not even supposed to drive) without freaking out over a detour. Surrey isn’t exactly deepest darkest Africa; the road signs were in bloody English and he lives there.
Darling Irish Lad walked over to Steve’s van and told him “Jeano is safe now. Fuck off.”
I got out without saying goodbye and drew a line under his name in My List. “Stick a fork in him, Millie. He’s done.”
So I have a date Tuesday night with a bloke called Peter. And a coffee date Wednesday with one called Gavin.
I would call that Rabbi whom I met, but on reflection, I’m not ready to forsake cheesesteaks and BLTs and do ‘seriously observant’.