Tag Archives: vacation

I’m Back!

The exclamation mark in no way signifies any happiness for my return to the real world.  Please understand the exclamation mark for what it really is–a mark reflecting the sarcasm with which I return to my place in life and a mark encompassing the frustration residing in me as I let out one big sigh of despair.

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Thoughts From The Cape

Although I am away on vacation, I certainly have not allowed myself to be completely out of touch with the real world.  First off, can I get a whoot whoot to the Bruins, who beat the odds to beat Tennessee in overtime?  Second, I must comment on this week’s RNC.

Let’s first talk about McCain’s pick of Sarah Palin.  This pick came completely out of left field, as even Fox News pundits had not put Palin in the running.  As an initial issue, some have compared Palin to Tina Fey in appearance, but I must object on Tina Fey’s behalf for such comparison, given that mere aesthetic similarities (brunette hair and glasses) should not suffice to place someone as fantastic as Ms. Fey with a gun-toting crazy woman like Ms. Palin.  Although Johnny Mac’s pick was not exactly shocking, given that Ms. Palin immediately began appealing to Hillary Clinton supporters (such as me), I am nonetheless utterly offended by Johnny Mac and his crew.  In between the rhetoric of Palin’s speech and the uproar of the NRA-loving crowd, I heard an appeal to Hillary supporters that–peeled of all its superficial layers, read like this:

My fellow Americans.  This is a fabulous day in history, as the party of the people, the original Republican party, has chosen me to stand by Johnny Mac’s side as Vice-President.  I understand that Johnny Mac may croak at any given time, despite the fact that he still carts his mother around like a piece of meat.  I understand that when Johnny Mac’s time comes, I will have to step in to lead this country as Commander-in-Chief.  I would like to appeal to all Democrats and Independents and Greens and Blues out there who wanted to vote for Hillary Clinton–I am Hillary Clinton.  Together, we can make that final sawed-off shotgun blow to that ultimate glass ceiling.  How am I like Hillary?  Well, I have two boobs.  Yes folks.  Count ’em.  Two jiggly boobies.  I also have mammary glands, just like Hillary Clinton.  If I bleed, I bleed XX chromosomes just like Hillary Clinton.  Vote for me, because just like Hillary, I do not have a penis, and I do like the penis.  Just like Hillary, I have given birth to children and possess child-bearing hips.  Just like Hillary, I proudly wear skirt-suits with pearl necklaces and turquoise earrings.  Vote for McCain/Palin.  If you don’t, just admit to yourself that you are a sexist pig!

One more point I’d like to make about the RNC:  What’s up with the RNC’s “Country First” slogan?  I mean, seriously.  Does this mean that if I don’t vote for the Republican ticket, I don’t put country first?  How insulting is that?  We can talk on and on about how Johnny Mac is the “original Maverick,” but apparently the original Maverick’s goal is to alienate as many people as possible who dissent, as these individuals apparently do not put country first.

Speaking of the people at the RNC, isn’t it funny that the GOP could barely get 10,000 people into their convention (50% of whom look like they might croak at any given time, no offense)?  Compare that with the DNC, where crowds were spilling out of Mile-High Stadium.  Ahh, the Republican party–always great fodder for comedic conversation.

I am rambling.  Time to return to vacation!

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Vacation — and a Plea to Tina Fey

In short time, I will be headed off on vacation for a week of much-needed rest and relaxation.  Before I leave, I would like to make another plea to Tina Fey to discover me and my twisted mind.

Last weekend, I went to the local mall to search for Tina Fey.  I know that, at least in Mean Girls, she frequents malls, so I figured a mall would be as good a place as any to “accidentally” run into Tina Fey.  I first entered stores in which I believed Tina Fey might actually shop–Crate & Barrel, Pottery Barn, Nordstrom, Victoria’s Secret.  I entered each shop, covering each aisle and corner of the store, searching for Tina Fey.  In my hand was a manuscript yearning to be read.  After I was satisfied that a visual survey was not successful, I went to Customer Service to ask if anyone had seen Tina Fey.  While most just seemed puzzled by my request, the woman at Victoria’s Secret barely listened to my request at all.  Despite her attempts at ignorance, I remained steadfast and continued to pester her with questions about Tina Fey while she attempted to measure the size of my rack.

Unfortunately, Tina Fey was nowhere to be found.  I then proceeded to stores in which I believed Tina Fey could possibly enter, but was first distracted by a diversion into Banana Republic.  Five hours into my search, I was exhausted.  I began to believe that every brunette with glasses was Tina Fey.  As I sat outside the Cinnabon, stuffing my face, I felt surrounded by Tina Feys.  I took my icing covered fingers and began tracing letters on the food court table — DEAR MS. FEY, DISCOVER ME!  Eventually, I was removed by mall security, kicking and screaming.  After that quarrel, I stood outside the Payless Shoe Source and it dawned on me.  Tina Fey does not live in Virginia.  I must go to New York!  I will find Tina Fey in a mall in New York! 

What a vacation this will be!

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Song of the Week

This time, I thought I’d highlight a song you might not have heard of–Almost Lovers by A Fine Frenzy. I was introduced to this song by my good friend, Courtney Galiano (everyone in SYTYCD is my good friend). I present to you the lyrics, brought to you by LyricWiki:

Your fingertips across my skin
The palm trees swaying in the wind
Images
You sang me Spanish lullabies
The sweetest sadness in your eyes
Clever trick

Well, I’d never want to see you unhappy
I thought you’d want the same for me

Goodbye, my almost lover
Goodbye, my hopeless dream
I’m trying not to think about you
Can’t you just let me be
So long, my luckless romance
My back is turned on you
Shoulda known you’d bring me heartache
Almost lovers always do

We walked along a crowded street
You took my hand and danced with me
Images
And when you left you kissed my lips
You told me you would never, never forget
These images

Well, I’d never want to see you unhappy
I thought you’d want the same for me

Goodbye, my almost lover
Goodbye, my hopeless dream
I’m trying not to think about you
Can’t you just let me be
So long, my luckless romance
My back is turned on you
Shoulda known you’d bring me heartache
Almost lovers always do

I cannot go to the ocean
I cannot drive the streets at night
I cannot wake up in the morning
Without you on my mind
So you’re gone and I’m haunted
And I’ll bet you are just fine
Did I make it that easy to walk
Right in and out of my life

Goodbye, my almost lover
Goodbye, my hopeless dream
I’m trying not to think about you
Can’t you just let me be
So long, my luckless romance
My back is turned on you
Shoulda known you’d bring me heartache
Almost lovers always do

And as a bonus, here is the song, played to scenes from my second favorite movie of all time, The Notebook:

And the song again–remixed and less “slit-your-wristy” says R. C.

Speaking of Almost Lovers, I believe I once had an almost lover. I don’t mean to brag, but I was once an almost lover to an exotic Italian man during my bar trip with my friend, V. V and I were walking down the streets of Florence, passing the Duomo cathedral and enjoying the sites. Without warning, the man of my dreams approached us on his bike (not a motorcycle, more along the lines of a 10-speed Huffy). Let’s call him Filippo, because that’s a good Italian name. Filippo rides his bike toward us as dusk falls upon the beautiful city. I can see the sun beginning to set over the horizon, and an orange glow covers the ancient city. Filippo pauses as he approaches, calling out to us, “Ciao bella!” Flattered by his words, V and I were startled by the welcome but continued, unable to respond in kind through his beautiful language. Filippo slows down, pacing us on his bike, and he says to us, “Sex me!” Ahhh–the eloquent words of this Italian man, who is glistening with sweat on his Huffy, sings to my heart and soul. Grasping for the proper words of romance, I say to Filippo, “Fuck off!” Undaunted, and apparently on to my hard to get game, Filippo responds, “Oh. You like fuck?” At this point, V and I were ready to dive onto the spokes of his bike and take off with Filippo into the sunset. Unfortunately for Filippo, and unfortunately for us, our hearts were spoken for by men at home.

Filippo. If you’re reading this, this bella sure likes sex and fuck. You will always be my almost lover.

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Filed under Song of the Week, Travel