1. Fondant au chocolat
2. Moby Dick
3. A few good men
4. Nokia
5. Volvic
6. Soft and comfy
7. Black
8. With cream and sugar
9. Dell
10. Labrador
11. Blondes
12. Mont Blanc
13. Rubbick’s cube
14. Las Vegas
15. Airbus 340
16. Maurice Leblanc
17. Pizza Hut
18. 42
19. Polo Ralph laurent
20. I am sorry
February 25, 2008
February 21, 2008
Gumba Bis
What is the US presidential race about? Some, like Ehab, who left a comment on my previous post, thinks it is about the issues. I ask you, which issues? None reall knows where the candidates stand on "the issues". Like all people asking for votes, the candidates say what ever they think will get them elected. That's the way the game works. Even if it weren't the case, most candidates have no idea what happens in the white house. In order to know what can and cannot be done when you are president, you have t have been president. Before that, you can make all the promises you want, we all know that 90% of them are empty promises. Not because they don't want to live up to them, but because they can't.
So, if it is not about the issues, how do you chose. Personally, I don't give damn if a candidate smoked pot when he was 16, or if he slept with his nanny when he was 14 or if he voted for the war or against the war in the past. Being president is about the future.
For me the decision is on race, gender, charisma, salesmanship and experience.Amongst the current candidate, the only one with experience is Hilary. And no, being governor of some remote state or having lived in Indonesia does not qualify as experience.
I have a weak spot for strong women. I have a weak spot for intelligent women. I have a weak spot for confident women. I like Hilary. What can I tell you? If she were 20 years younger...
February 20, 2008
Gumbba
Barrack, Hilary and John, the three musketeers of current american politics. I spent long hours trying to decide which one of them will affect my life in a positive way.
John is a republican. I don't like republicans. I didn't like Reagan, I didn't like Bush the first and I certainly don't like Bush the second. But, John is a different kind of republican and he is gutsy. His views on abortion are different than those of the GOP and he had the courage to say them in public. He was in favor of the surge when it was very unpopular and most importantly for me he was not afraid of saying so when he knew it would cost him votes. He speaks his mind regardless of the consequences. I like that. But, I am also aware that it is the exact same thing that led to the invasion of Iraq.
Barrack is black. Which is not a problem for me in itself. But, he is black and he knows it. He keeps talking about not making race and issue but by saying so, he is making it an issue. Blacks in America live with the race issue everyday. They make decisions because they are black, they realize they are black and it affects their everyday life. I am against affirmative action as a concept, it is nothing but reverse discrimination. Having said that, in a society like the US where everything and I do mean everything is race related, affirmative action is needed and required in order to ensure that blacks are treated equally. Lets us not forget that, in a society that, today, claims to be the epitome of freedom, only in 1956, blacks could not vote. Today, one is about to become president. I think he is aware of that and it plays a big part of his psyche. I am not too sure I like that. On the other hand, I like his politics. He is saying all the right things, he has charisma and the biggest pair of ears I have ever seen. Also, I don't like the fact that because he has a few relatives in Kenya was born in Hawaii and lived in Indonesia when he was 5 for 6 months old, he thinks he has "international experience". Granted, compared to the average american who has never heard of any of these countries and who have spent all their lives in Wakamazoo, north dakota, he is a world traveler. But, I am not convinced.
Hilary is a woman. Which is not a problem for me in itself. As you could have surmised from the paragraph above, I am skeptical of people who are setting precedents. They tend to work for the precedents rather than for the job. But, I like the two for one deal that comes with Hilary. I think Bill is great. He has the charisma, experience and mojo to run the country. However, he also has the ego of a bulldog. I actually think that he so jealous of Hilary that he is deliberately but subtly sabotaging her campaign. Making sure he is the only Clinton to ever be president. I am quite sure that, in her concession speech, or victory speech, whichever she gets to make, the words: "I am divorcing my husband" will find their way into there.
I have thought long and hard about which of these will affect my life for the better. I have decided that I like Hilary the most amongst those three. But, there is another person that I really like. Mike! He is an ordained Baptist Minister that had the balls to say that Mormons worship the devil. That one was gutsy. He is campaigning even though he knows he has no chance, but he never walks away from a fight. Most importantly, he knows that, the longer he campaigns, the more chances he has of being offered the Vice President ticket for John. This of course means, it positions him for a good run in 4 years. who ever gets on the republican ticket this year as a veep gets to be the automatic nominee in 4 years.
I like Mike. He has the balls, the charisma and everything else I need to like in a president. Of course, there is the small matter of him being a republican, but I am willing to overlook it for the sake of sanity
February 17, 2008
Protect the elephants
791 days ago, I took her shopping in NY’s China town
We were looking for a Chinese table set complete with chopsticks and the likes. I am not a big fan of chopsticks, I tend to poke my eye with them while trying to insert rice, one grain at a time, into my open mouth. I mean, we got to Chinese restaurants for the food, and that food tastes just as good with a fork. But, she wanted chopsticks.
Chopsticks, for those of you who don’t know, come in many different variety. Disposable, cheap, expensive and exorbitant. She, being a woman, of course, wanted to buy the exorbitant ones. The ones she selected were made our of ivory. Not the synthetics, disgusting kind, but the real ivory that comes from elephants. They were the most beautiful chopsticks I have ever seen. Of course, ivory makes them extremely slippy and only useable by real Chinese or the cast of “friends”
Nevertheless, ignoring the total uselessness of these chopsticks to me as potential user, she decided to buy them. I refused. If we keep buying Ivory, more elephant will be killed.
She reminded me that those elephants were already dead and that if we did not buy them someone else would and she paid for the chopsticks.
She took the dead elephant remains to her place and called all her friends over for a Chinese dinner. I tried to get out of it knowing that she cooks Chinese food with an enthusiasm completely disproportionate to her skill level. The friends were nice interesting people. Bankers, stock brokers, financial analysts, the kind of people that are successful, associate themselves with successful people and have successful things to say to successful people. I felt right at home. Oozing and shmoozing from one group to the other with a lot of things to say to everyone and thoroughly enjoying myself.
Why am I telling you this story? I can’t remember?
Ah, yes, I was making a point about dead elephants. Do you think it is right to buy ivory just because the elephants are already dead?
She had cooked Kung Pao Chicken, sezuan beef and rice noodles. I still remember because I had never taste anything so disgusting in my life and have not again since.
So what is the point of this post? No point really. Just wanted to share how bad the food was. Have you ever tried to eat fried rice with super duper slippery chopsticks? You end up eating one rice at a time.
To be very honest, I couldn’t care less about the elephants, I just objected to the purchase because it was expensive and I am a cheap bastard. Of course, arguing and saying no once in a while, then reluctantly agreeing allowed me to score some brownie points with her. I was able to skip her piano recital the following week.
We were looking for a Chinese table set complete with chopsticks and the likes. I am not a big fan of chopsticks, I tend to poke my eye with them while trying to insert rice, one grain at a time, into my open mouth. I mean, we got to Chinese restaurants for the food, and that food tastes just as good with a fork. But, she wanted chopsticks.
Chopsticks, for those of you who don’t know, come in many different variety. Disposable, cheap, expensive and exorbitant. She, being a woman, of course, wanted to buy the exorbitant ones. The ones she selected were made our of ivory. Not the synthetics, disgusting kind, but the real ivory that comes from elephants. They were the most beautiful chopsticks I have ever seen. Of course, ivory makes them extremely slippy and only useable by real Chinese or the cast of “friends”
Nevertheless, ignoring the total uselessness of these chopsticks to me as potential user, she decided to buy them. I refused. If we keep buying Ivory, more elephant will be killed.
She reminded me that those elephants were already dead and that if we did not buy them someone else would and she paid for the chopsticks.
She took the dead elephant remains to her place and called all her friends over for a Chinese dinner. I tried to get out of it knowing that she cooks Chinese food with an enthusiasm completely disproportionate to her skill level. The friends were nice interesting people. Bankers, stock brokers, financial analysts, the kind of people that are successful, associate themselves with successful people and have successful things to say to successful people. I felt right at home. Oozing and shmoozing from one group to the other with a lot of things to say to everyone and thoroughly enjoying myself.
Why am I telling you this story? I can’t remember?
Ah, yes, I was making a point about dead elephants. Do you think it is right to buy ivory just because the elephants are already dead?
She had cooked Kung Pao Chicken, sezuan beef and rice noodles. I still remember because I had never taste anything so disgusting in my life and have not again since.
So what is the point of this post? No point really. Just wanted to share how bad the food was. Have you ever tried to eat fried rice with super duper slippery chopsticks? You end up eating one rice at a time.
To be very honest, I couldn’t care less about the elephants, I just objected to the purchase because it was expensive and I am a cheap bastard. Of course, arguing and saying no once in a while, then reluctantly agreeing allowed me to score some brownie points with her. I was able to skip her piano recital the following week.
February 14, 2008
Will you marry me?
394 days ago, I woke up with an Itch!
Normally I would say that the itch was because she was not the type to take too many showers and God knows what type of insects she brought to bed with her. But that was a different kind of itch.
We had had great sex the night before. Amazing sex. Mind boggling, disturbingly good sex. It is amazing what phenomenal sex would do to the mind of an impressionable young man. It creates itches. That day the itch was to get married.
I spent the better part of two hours planning. Of course, I needed a ring, that one was easy, a quick visit to Tiffany’s would take care of it. Much more complicated was figuring out an original way to ask. It was my first time and it had to be perfect. None of the cheesy stuff like having violins or a mariachi band. I mean those damn mariachi only sing in spainishian and neither one of us speak a word of Spanian. Spanishan? Spainish? Spainian? Well what ever the damn language is, we don’t speak a word of it and I wasn’t about to have some random stranger with an Hercule Poirot moustache as her to marry me. As a man, there are things that you do yourself, in English.
So, I called our favorite restaurant and asked to speak to the chef. James came on the phone and I proceeded to explain to him that I wanted to insert my Tiffany’s ring into one of his world famous, delicious “fondant au chocolat”. That man, in his infinite wisdom asked me where I was planning to buy the ring from then proceeded to explain to me why inserting it in his signature desert was a bad idea:
1. Tiffany’s is a very expensive place and I could only afford the tiniest of rings. It would get swallowed. He then proceed to explain that the only way to recover my swallowed tiny Tiffany’s ring was to collect my exes shit for a week and search through it (Not the image I had in mind for a wedding proposal)
2. She could bite into it and loose a tooth. I didn’t want to spend my first post marriage proposal night at the dentist. I would have preferred another edition of the eye popping sex
3. It has been done before and it too cliché.
4. I couldn’t afford Tiffany gold and the silver doesn’t react well with the chocolate
As you can see, this guy turn the sea into hummus for me and made it almost impossible to proceed with the plan.
Then he proceeds to suggest that I insert it into a glass of champagne. Like THAT wasn’t cliché!!
So, I was in a bit of a conundrum (a big word specially researched for the benefit of Forsoothsayer), How would I ask her to marry me?
I went to Tiffany only to find out, to my dismay, that chef James was absolutely correct. I could only afford a ring so small that it would giver itches (her lack of showers didn’t really give her itches. After 27+ years of no showering except once a week, the skin adapts)
I paid for my tiny, itsy, bitty ring and went home. Called the ex and asked her to meet me at James’ restaurant. I got there early and asked James to be creative with the ring. He looked at it and asked if I wasn’t worried that she’s accidentally think it was a tiny earring. James think he is funny.
We sat at our favorite table, we drank our favorite wine, we had our favorite desert (fondant au chocolat) and after dinner, when everything was perfect, James came to the table to see if everything was ok and slipped the ring into my hand while whispering “Get on your knees”.
So, in front of James and the 200 people in the restaurant, I got on my knees, took her hand in mine and asked her, in my nicest voice, if she would marry me on her birthday the following week.
She said no.
February 13, 2008
The beginning
It was a little over 3 years ago. There was a time when I used to count the days spent together, but now, I only count those spent apart.
I was sitting at the bar having a beer and checking out the women in the place. I was not making eye contact, just scanning the place in search of something interesting to focus on. I only had two nights at this hotel and didn’t know anyone in town. It was late; I’d had a long day and was just there for a beer. The last thing I wanted was to interact with another human being.
I was drinking Carlsberg. I used to always drink Carlsberg.
She came into the place with a man. I noticed her because she was taller than the man she was with. And, she was wearing heels. He was wearing a Tuxedo so I guessed that they had just come back from the theatre or the opera. I noticed that they had a reservation and that they knew the owner. They were ushered to their table in a corner where he sat with his back to me, letting me get a much better look at the girl.
The girl (or I should say woman) was very fit. I would see her shoulder muscles move under the dress. I guessed she was some sort of athlete or fitness freaks. They ordered a bottle of wine, but she only had coke. Not diet coke, regular coke. It had been ages since I had seen a woman drink regular coke. He ordered a salad and she ordered a steak. This woman was intriguing.
I left before they ordered desert, but I am quite sure that she ordered her favorite: “Fondant au chocolat”. She is simply this kind of woman.
That was the first time I ever saw her. We got together a few weeks later, but that is a story for another day. There will be plenty more stories. Some good (Our first kiss), some bad (our first kiss) and some hilarious (Our first kiss). No, there will be no stories about our first orgasm. Cause I can kiss and tell, but I don’t orgasm and tell. Or, simply because it only lasted about 90 seconds.
I was sitting at the bar having a beer and checking out the women in the place. I was not making eye contact, just scanning the place in search of something interesting to focus on. I only had two nights at this hotel and didn’t know anyone in town. It was late; I’d had a long day and was just there for a beer. The last thing I wanted was to interact with another human being.
I was drinking Carlsberg. I used to always drink Carlsberg.
She came into the place with a man. I noticed her because she was taller than the man she was with. And, she was wearing heels. He was wearing a Tuxedo so I guessed that they had just come back from the theatre or the opera. I noticed that they had a reservation and that they knew the owner. They were ushered to their table in a corner where he sat with his back to me, letting me get a much better look at the girl.
The girl (or I should say woman) was very fit. I would see her shoulder muscles move under the dress. I guessed she was some sort of athlete or fitness freaks. They ordered a bottle of wine, but she only had coke. Not diet coke, regular coke. It had been ages since I had seen a woman drink regular coke. He ordered a salad and she ordered a steak. This woman was intriguing.
I left before they ordered desert, but I am quite sure that she ordered her favorite: “Fondant au chocolat”. She is simply this kind of woman.
That was the first time I ever saw her. We got together a few weeks later, but that is a story for another day. There will be plenty more stories. Some good (Our first kiss), some bad (our first kiss) and some hilarious (Our first kiss). No, there will be no stories about our first orgasm. Cause I can kiss and tell, but I don’t orgasm and tell. Or, simply because it only lasted about 90 seconds.
February 12, 2008
All good things must come to an end
What better place to start then at the end?
72 days, 11 hours and 57 minutes ago, I was happy.
I had a good job, I had enough money to afford the things I wanted and the wisdom to want what I could afford, I had health, humor and a house in my life.
I also had my ex.
We were having Dinner to celebrate our 3 years together. It was a nice dinner. I was having a Waldorf Salad (From the Waldorf hotel in NY), she was having Oysters. I was looking forward to the Chateaubriand that was coming up with the potato wedges and the second bottle of Chateau Durand. I was already salivating at the thought of the “Fondant au Chocolat” that I had ordered for desert and most importantly, I was still orgasmic about having just dropped her mother at the airport.
Life was a beautiful, zennish, harmonious flow. My Chi was in the right place and my inner self satisfied
Then she spoke.
“I slept with Hani”
Couldn’t she have waited until after the Chateaubriand and the fondant? I mean, come on, it was only 15 more minutes. Would it have killed her? But, that’s her; my ex; totally inconsiderate. Spitting out the weirdest of things and the most inappropriate moments.
Couldn’t she have waited until the waiter finished replenishing my glass of wine? Did she have to inform the waiter of my situation as a clueless idiot?
Some women have no sense of style of timing.
72 days, 11 hours and 57 minutes ago, I was happy.
I had a good job, I had enough money to afford the things I wanted and the wisdom to want what I could afford, I had health, humor and a house in my life.
I also had my ex.
We were having Dinner to celebrate our 3 years together. It was a nice dinner. I was having a Waldorf Salad (From the Waldorf hotel in NY), she was having Oysters. I was looking forward to the Chateaubriand that was coming up with the potato wedges and the second bottle of Chateau Durand. I was already salivating at the thought of the “Fondant au Chocolat” that I had ordered for desert and most importantly, I was still orgasmic about having just dropped her mother at the airport.
Life was a beautiful, zennish, harmonious flow. My Chi was in the right place and my inner self satisfied
Then she spoke.
“I slept with Hani”
Couldn’t she have waited until after the Chateaubriand and the fondant? I mean, come on, it was only 15 more minutes. Would it have killed her? But, that’s her; my ex; totally inconsiderate. Spitting out the weirdest of things and the most inappropriate moments.
Couldn’t she have waited until the waiter finished replenishing my glass of wine? Did she have to inform the waiter of my situation as a clueless idiot?
Some women have no sense of style of timing.
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