I wonder if I’ll ever get to the stage where I don’t think it’s completely insane to jump on a plane and suddenly fling myself to a new country. This is what I did on Thursday when I arrived in South Sudan, a new country for the world as well.
It’s nuts. I find myself going with it physically except for my eyeballs. The rest of my body grabs suitcases amid the utter chaos of Juba International Airport, shoving grannies and 8 ft tall Sudanese men to the side while praying that my newly purchased paintings don’t get crushed. My eyeballs blink slowly while I jump into a Toyota hard top like I’ve been doing it for years. No one stops to acknowledge that I’ve never been in this crazy place and I offer almost no evidence of this. The only hesitation is detectable in my eyeballs. They move slowly and I blink about once every 10 minutes and when my eyes close, they make a noise: clang……….clang……..clang………
Clang…pile up at the airport exit…clang…there’s the ARC sign, thank fuck…clang…bumping up and down the road to get the office; that looks like a really deep ravine; will we makeand we’re through…clang…roll up to the guesthouse and see a bunch of ex-pats staring at me; no smiles and blinking slowly too…clang…and now I’m giving a presentation; I’ve been in this country for 45 minutes…clang…shoving beans and rice in my mouth, clutching for a soda to pep me up because it’s 400 degrees and I woke up in another country hours ago…clang…driver takes me to the hotel where they demand a bunch of paperwork I don’t have and we call the office and they don’t have it either…clang…in my hotel room which is clean and new but not very functional…clang…seven minutes of internet and gone for the rest of the evening…clang…staff dinner at an Indian restaurant that also serves pizzas. Why is there pizza at an Indian restaurant in South Sudan?...clang…back in the hotel where the sheets are made of some sort of plasticy polyester…clang…go to bed because tomorrow you’re taking a UN flight to north south sudan, where the trouble is; WHAT?!...clang…zzzzzzzzzz
Friday, August 19, 2011
Tuesday, August 9, 2011
A Sort of Homecoming
Well, I’m back in Uganda and it feels great. I arrived in Entebbe as if I never left…immediately knew the drill. Africa is much less intimidating when you know what you’re doing.
On Saturday I stopped briefly in Lugogo shopping center to buy some forgotten toys and had to resist the urge to stock up on cheese and pasta and dog food. It was nice but difficult to avoid the usual mad dash to stock up before trekking back to Gulu. I traveled up to Gulu, snoring off my jetlag on the usually tedious drive. Within seconds of arriving I started running into people I knew and noticed subtle changes in the months since I left. I pulled over to buy some pineapples and ran into Simon the handyman from NRC. I gazed over to the Total station, where I usually stocked up on samosas and other field food to see that the overhang had blown off – apparently that had just happened today. I asked the driver to do a loop past both of my old houses which looked exactly the same, but quiet. Jeter was not poking his nose through the gate upon hearing the vehicle outside. No doubt he was home in his DC townhouse, cuddling on the couch waiting for the next dog walk. I drove past the boda boda stand and got big smiles from the lads and after a quick hug for Uma I arrived at Jeanne’s, the ultimate refuge in Gulu.
The welcome from my friends was wonderful. It felt like seconds since I left. It was also a nice reminder of the true friendships I made in Gulu – an important reminder as I’m still working on such things in DC. My phone started ringing as word got out I was in town. I headed to Café Larem, where I was pleasantly surprised that it looked much the same. Tonny was behind the bar and there were random summer ex-pats using the internet. I planted myself outside and people began arriving. I had a lovely SPRING reunion with George, who filled me in on all the gossip; I assume about 50% was true. Office Mike, Emily and the GLACCR guys also joined us. Emily is about to have a baby (“SPRING 2” we called it and giggled at the reference to the sequel project that never came.)
I came back to Jeanne’s and a larger group of friends greeted me, including the newest of the group: Anna Carolina, born two months ago to Robi and Coy. I fell in love immediately. I was also greeted by my Dorian Grey, which Scott never, ever misses an opportunity to shock me with. Ugh!
We went to an ex-pat party and met a mix of new and old, but I was eager to leave. The days of meeting new people in Gulu expired long ago for me. So it was back to Jeanne’s for a great meal and great night of catch up.
On my second and final day in Gulu, I made the rounds at a fever pitch. I saw Emily, my former housekeeper who is struggling to find work. That was very tough. Johnson also showed up, who I feel less guilty and worried about, but nonetheless it was a heartbreaking reunion. I met Jennifer and Claudia, who were the same – great spirits, but stubborn. Claudia got a new swing, which I think was the perfect gift. I popped in on the Paramount Chief, which I’m pretty is against protocol. He looked good and it was happy to reunite with him. Before heading to another ex-pat BBQ, my last stop was to visit Beatrice, Arthur and Hope. The baby is now old enough to take one look at me and burst into tears, but I was prepared and bribed her with a toy turtle – it worked! They are surviving, somehow and were in good spirits anyway.
All in all it was great to visit! I do not regret my decision to leave Gulu – heck no! But it felt like coming home. Just like before I moved there, I always find a way to get to Gulu every once in a while. This will continue forever I think.
On Saturday I stopped briefly in Lugogo shopping center to buy some forgotten toys and had to resist the urge to stock up on cheese and pasta and dog food. It was nice but difficult to avoid the usual mad dash to stock up before trekking back to Gulu. I traveled up to Gulu, snoring off my jetlag on the usually tedious drive. Within seconds of arriving I started running into people I knew and noticed subtle changes in the months since I left. I pulled over to buy some pineapples and ran into Simon the handyman from NRC. I gazed over to the Total station, where I usually stocked up on samosas and other field food to see that the overhang had blown off – apparently that had just happened today. I asked the driver to do a loop past both of my old houses which looked exactly the same, but quiet. Jeter was not poking his nose through the gate upon hearing the vehicle outside. No doubt he was home in his DC townhouse, cuddling on the couch waiting for the next dog walk. I drove past the boda boda stand and got big smiles from the lads and after a quick hug for Uma I arrived at Jeanne’s, the ultimate refuge in Gulu.
The welcome from my friends was wonderful. It felt like seconds since I left. It was also a nice reminder of the true friendships I made in Gulu – an important reminder as I’m still working on such things in DC. My phone started ringing as word got out I was in town. I headed to Café Larem, where I was pleasantly surprised that it looked much the same. Tonny was behind the bar and there were random summer ex-pats using the internet. I planted myself outside and people began arriving. I had a lovely SPRING reunion with George, who filled me in on all the gossip; I assume about 50% was true. Office Mike, Emily and the GLACCR guys also joined us. Emily is about to have a baby (“SPRING 2” we called it and giggled at the reference to the sequel project that never came.)
I came back to Jeanne’s and a larger group of friends greeted me, including the newest of the group: Anna Carolina, born two months ago to Robi and Coy. I fell in love immediately. I was also greeted by my Dorian Grey, which Scott never, ever misses an opportunity to shock me with. Ugh!
We went to an ex-pat party and met a mix of new and old, but I was eager to leave. The days of meeting new people in Gulu expired long ago for me. So it was back to Jeanne’s for a great meal and great night of catch up.
On my second and final day in Gulu, I made the rounds at a fever pitch. I saw Emily, my former housekeeper who is struggling to find work. That was very tough. Johnson also showed up, who I feel less guilty and worried about, but nonetheless it was a heartbreaking reunion. I met Jennifer and Claudia, who were the same – great spirits, but stubborn. Claudia got a new swing, which I think was the perfect gift. I popped in on the Paramount Chief, which I’m pretty is against protocol. He looked good and it was happy to reunite with him. Before heading to another ex-pat BBQ, my last stop was to visit Beatrice, Arthur and Hope. The baby is now old enough to take one look at me and burst into tears, but I was prepared and bribed her with a toy turtle – it worked! They are surviving, somehow and were in good spirits anyway.
All in all it was great to visit! I do not regret my decision to leave Gulu – heck no! But it felt like coming home. Just like before I moved there, I always find a way to get to Gulu every once in a while. This will continue forever I think.
Tuesday, July 19, 2011
In an instant
Uh oh.
I think my walnut-size attention span has taken a serious hit. Today I was reading a New Yorker article for the first time in weeks. It was about segregation and the commemoration of the Freedom riders. I found it annoying. I fidgeted through it, skimmed major sections and kept thinking about what the next article might be. Then I got annoyed at myself. How could I be annoyed with my beloved New Yorker, especially when it's covering such a riveting moment in history?
And then the "a ha" moment came: the curse of the iphone.
Don't get me wrong; it's a beautiful machine. In a new town, the map and direction app is awesome.I love apps and how instantly gratifying they are. I was reading an Eating Well Magazine in the Aaronson's living room, wondered if they had an app and then in 12 seconds it was on my phone.I love the camera, which is of good enough quality to capture a random walk through nature in Vermont or my parents visit to Mt. Vernon or a video of Jeter jumping up a tree after a squirrel. It could've captured the U2 money shot had it not been for human error (caused by screaming, shaking and jumping.) I love that I can instantly download the re-vamped Spiderman song (now ahem featuring Bono and the Edge) and then play it through my awesome Mini sound system - in the middle of a road trip!
Yet, I think the iphone is actively contributing to my inability to focus on anything that isn't instant. I know things have been a bit busy for me lately, but I haven't read a single book since I got it. I check my email while lying in bed (at 11pm, at 4am, at 7am...) I check my email while departing or arriving at work, despite having my computer in front of me all day long. And when I'm not checking it, I'm thinking about checking it. Sigh. I know this is not newsworthy. The "crackberry" syndrome is so 2006. But I'm still amazed that despite having heard and scoffed at its perils, I still cannot resist the allure of the instant smartphone.
FYI, I just checked my email while writing this blog. Amazondotcom is having a 20% off shoe sale. Bel in Uganda is going to draft a capacity statement on health and nutrition. There's a dresser on craigslist that's still available.
Ei yei yei.
sent by my iphone ;)
I think my walnut-size attention span has taken a serious hit. Today I was reading a New Yorker article for the first time in weeks. It was about segregation and the commemoration of the Freedom riders. I found it annoying. I fidgeted through it, skimmed major sections and kept thinking about what the next article might be. Then I got annoyed at myself. How could I be annoyed with my beloved New Yorker, especially when it's covering such a riveting moment in history?
And then the "a ha" moment came: the curse of the iphone.
Don't get me wrong; it's a beautiful machine. In a new town, the map and direction app is awesome.I love apps and how instantly gratifying they are. I was reading an Eating Well Magazine in the Aaronson's living room, wondered if they had an app and then in 12 seconds it was on my phone.I love the camera, which is of good enough quality to capture a random walk through nature in Vermont or my parents visit to Mt. Vernon or a video of Jeter jumping up a tree after a squirrel. It could've captured the U2 money shot had it not been for human error (caused by screaming, shaking and jumping.) I love that I can instantly download the re-vamped Spiderman song (now ahem featuring Bono and the Edge) and then play it through my awesome Mini sound system - in the middle of a road trip!
Yet, I think the iphone is actively contributing to my inability to focus on anything that isn't instant. I know things have been a bit busy for me lately, but I haven't read a single book since I got it. I check my email while lying in bed (at 11pm, at 4am, at 7am...) I check my email while departing or arriving at work, despite having my computer in front of me all day long. And when I'm not checking it, I'm thinking about checking it. Sigh. I know this is not newsworthy. The "crackberry" syndrome is so 2006. But I'm still amazed that despite having heard and scoffed at its perils, I still cannot resist the allure of the instant smartphone.
FYI, I just checked my email while writing this blog. Amazondotcom is having a 20% off shoe sale. Bel in Uganda is going to draft a capacity statement on health and nutrition. There's a dresser on craigslist that's still available.
Ei yei yei.
sent by my iphone ;)
Tuesday, July 5, 2011
Land of the Free
I thought living in our nation’s capitol was pretty patriotic and it is. Driving by the Capitol building every day never gets old. It’s stunning and I feel proud of our country…until I open a paper or listen or watch the news. Then I walk my dog past Russell Senate building and want to hurl eggs at it (and definitely let him lift a leg on the cornerstone.) In fact, I’m going into media black out over the coming weeks to avoid the dreaded vitriolic hyperbolic political mudslinging that’s looming over this budget ceiling issue.
But today, in downtown Rochester Vermont, population 1,171, I renewed my faith in Amurica. What a day. On this the 4th of July 2011, I arose to a fantastic view of ebullient cloud wisps across the green mountains. After a morning hike, where I rediscovered ferns and newts and white birch trees, I had a fantastic breakfast with the Aaronsons. We had Kristina’s homemade granola, which made me reminisce about wheat germ – wheat germ!
Art was worried we’d miss the start of the 230th annual July 4th parade, so we hurried down the mountain. Just in the nick of time we parked the car at the town hall and scurried over to the town square. I can’t remember in my life ever seeing a more picture perfect town square, other than on TV. The Aaronsons moved through the crowd like Ambassadors, greeting everyone and introducing Hayden and I like VIPs. We settled in down in front of the beautiful library and waited for the show to begin. We were promised 45 minutes of patriotism and that’s just what we got. The streets were lined with big smiles and red, white and blue scarves, hats and jackets. Every fire truck in the valley was on parade, along with Rochester’s finest: the state champion girls softball team, the town theater players, the world war two vets, the one Chinese guy in town and Senator Bernie Sanders, the fiery independent who reminds Democrats what they really should be saying out loud and proud. There was even a float that threw out Cabot’s Seriously Sharp Cheddar Cheese snacks…how much more Vermont can you get?! I fear I may have elbowed a kid or two out of the way for those cheese snacks!
We posed for pictures in front of the war memorial and I felt verklempt. To see so many people breaking from their jobs and iphones and all of the bad news and universally being proud to be an American was cool. Sorry liberal friends, but it was.
In order to get to the airport on time, I had to leave quickly after the pomp and circumstance. I jumped in my rented Dodge Avenger (a little cheap, but still kinda muscley) and wound around the mountains. At times I let anxiety creep in thinking about exits and rental drop offs, but I pushed it down immediately upon spotting a covered bridge, an ice cream stand or a bunch of fat Holsteins. This was America and what a perfect day to be celebrating America.
I got to the airport in plenty of time and wandered in to the Sam Adam’s Restaurant, where I consumed with pleasure the 4th of July special: A pint of Sam’s summer brew, real New England Clam Chowder and a truly delicious lobster roll. The waitress assured me that the ocean was just 20 minutes away – now that’s fresh.
Despite the tedium of daily politics and all that is wrong with the state of things these days, I was reminded today of this country’s greatness. Thanks for that Vermont.
PS I returned to DC just in time to see the migration to the Mall for the fireworks show...pretty cool and a perfect cap to a day in America!
But today, in downtown Rochester Vermont, population 1,171, I renewed my faith in Amurica. What a day. On this the 4th of July 2011, I arose to a fantastic view of ebullient cloud wisps across the green mountains. After a morning hike, where I rediscovered ferns and newts and white birch trees, I had a fantastic breakfast with the Aaronsons. We had Kristina’s homemade granola, which made me reminisce about wheat germ – wheat germ!
Art was worried we’d miss the start of the 230th annual July 4th parade, so we hurried down the mountain. Just in the nick of time we parked the car at the town hall and scurried over to the town square. I can’t remember in my life ever seeing a more picture perfect town square, other than on TV. The Aaronsons moved through the crowd like Ambassadors, greeting everyone and introducing Hayden and I like VIPs. We settled in down in front of the beautiful library and waited for the show to begin. We were promised 45 minutes of patriotism and that’s just what we got. The streets were lined with big smiles and red, white and blue scarves, hats and jackets. Every fire truck in the valley was on parade, along with Rochester’s finest: the state champion girls softball team, the town theater players, the world war two vets, the one Chinese guy in town and Senator Bernie Sanders, the fiery independent who reminds Democrats what they really should be saying out loud and proud. There was even a float that threw out Cabot’s Seriously Sharp Cheddar Cheese snacks…how much more Vermont can you get?! I fear I may have elbowed a kid or two out of the way for those cheese snacks!
We posed for pictures in front of the war memorial and I felt verklempt. To see so many people breaking from their jobs and iphones and all of the bad news and universally being proud to be an American was cool. Sorry liberal friends, but it was.
In order to get to the airport on time, I had to leave quickly after the pomp and circumstance. I jumped in my rented Dodge Avenger (a little cheap, but still kinda muscley) and wound around the mountains. At times I let anxiety creep in thinking about exits and rental drop offs, but I pushed it down immediately upon spotting a covered bridge, an ice cream stand or a bunch of fat Holsteins. This was America and what a perfect day to be celebrating America.
I got to the airport in plenty of time and wandered in to the Sam Adam’s Restaurant, where I consumed with pleasure the 4th of July special: A pint of Sam’s summer brew, real New England Clam Chowder and a truly delicious lobster roll. The waitress assured me that the ocean was just 20 minutes away – now that’s fresh.
Despite the tedium of daily politics and all that is wrong with the state of things these days, I was reminded today of this country’s greatness. Thanks for that Vermont.
PS I returned to DC just in time to see the migration to the Mall for the fireworks show...pretty cool and a perfect cap to a day in America!
Thursday, June 23, 2011
I Will Follow
In 1987 tweens were given a choice a decision that would affect them for the rest of their lives. They could choose New Kids on the Block's "The Right Stuff" or U2's "The Joshua Tree." Last night, 14 years later, I confirmed what I suspected all along: I chose wisely
Last night I spent my 37th birthday screaming just like I did when I was 12. U2 gave one of the best concerts I have seen and I've seen a few...
Bono was on fire. No sign of a broken back as he leapt around the stage. He reinvented his own songs, like when he had Mark Kelly the Astronaut sing Beautiful Day FROM SPACE, or dedicated his obscure October song "Rejoice" to Ang Sung Su Kyi and then moving seamlessly into "Walk On," which he wrote for her to or when he paused and had the crowd sing almost all of PRIDE In the Name of Love. Or when they rededicated Sunday Bloody Sunday to the Arab Spring. Edge played new riffs for old songs like I Will Follow and nailed the falsetto in Mysterious Ways. Larry drummed standing up and I'm fairly certain I saw Adam having a blast!
Around me I noticed the Tweens and frat boys of yesteryear rocking out like me remembering their great choice.
There were other U2 nerds near me which always makes me excited, especially to see someone singing obscure lyrics along with me... The girl next to me and I were among the select few helping Bono sing the Pavarotte lines of Miss Sarejevo. Of course when I saw the tattoo of Bono lyrics on her arm I got competitive. But then I reassured myself that I was clearly the bigger fan, because I have seen them several times in Ireland AND I have Irish citizenship more or less because of Bono and the boys.
In front of me was a dad rocking out with his tweens who started out embarrassed but then Bono got to them too.
As they wound down and said their goodbyes I was surprised that Bono kept saying how great it was to have performed and thanked the audience profusely. I got a sense that after the broken back scare he's realized just how rare and special this little band called U2 is.
And as I scurried out of the stadium with 70000 of my closest friends I thought how grateful I am that I chose heroes that have lasted a life time.
Monday, June 13, 2011
Beautiful Day
Today is day “when kings in gold suits ride elephants over mountains.” My 12th grade humanities teacher used to say that to us every morning I believe in reference to a William Carlos Williams poem about Hannibal. My teacher was nearly identical to Robin Williams’ character in Dead Poet’s Society, which is pretty remarkable for an otherwise staid public high school. On occasion since 12th grade I’ve have exclaimed this phrase at spontaneous moments of bliss. This morning, with the heat and humidity kicked to the curb, a most glorious morning dawned and this quote bubbled up and out of me as I headed to work.
Yesterday was a different story. Yesterday I played soccer with a team I joined a while back and thought I was going to die. It was about 90 degrees and 100% humidity. I’m very out of shape and, dare I say it, no spring chicken. Soccer, unlike other 30 something sports such as softball or bocce ball or silly kickball, is not for the faint of heart. Literally. And yesterday I thought I was going to both faint and have a heart attack. Because it’s a co-ed league, the league requires 2 women on the field at all times. Only 2 women showed up which meant I had to play the whole game. Did I mention that I was old and out of shape? There was a point toward the end of the game when it actually hurt to breathe in, because I’m pretty certain the dense hot air of the day was hotter than my body temperature. I had a horrible feeling, as my body demanded oxygen, that there was no longer oxygen left on the planet. Instead it had been replaced by some dreadfully noxious and searing hot fume. Not a good sign. Exhaustion after the game was other worldly. I dumped water on my head and wrists and neck to survive. To survive!
The good news is that I have pretty good muscle memory. I.e., I can still play soccer. It’s great actually to know that all of those years of playing will be with me forever. Even if my body can’t quite handle the pace, I can still dribble, shoot and hopefully score as if I have never stopped playing (or stopped playing not too long ago…)
I wish the break in weather had come a day early, but do not dwell on it. Well, I do a bit, because I just got up to go out for a few minutes and realized that my muscles are still in spasm from yesterday. But other than the hobbling I’m just enjoying the day. In fact, everyone in DC has a smile on their face today. It’s simply beautiful. Here’s hoping it doesn’t revert to the dreaded HHH weather too soon.
Yesterday was a different story. Yesterday I played soccer with a team I joined a while back and thought I was going to die. It was about 90 degrees and 100% humidity. I’m very out of shape and, dare I say it, no spring chicken. Soccer, unlike other 30 something sports such as softball or bocce ball or silly kickball, is not for the faint of heart. Literally. And yesterday I thought I was going to both faint and have a heart attack. Because it’s a co-ed league, the league requires 2 women on the field at all times. Only 2 women showed up which meant I had to play the whole game. Did I mention that I was old and out of shape? There was a point toward the end of the game when it actually hurt to breathe in, because I’m pretty certain the dense hot air of the day was hotter than my body temperature. I had a horrible feeling, as my body demanded oxygen, that there was no longer oxygen left on the planet. Instead it had been replaced by some dreadfully noxious and searing hot fume. Not a good sign. Exhaustion after the game was other worldly. I dumped water on my head and wrists and neck to survive. To survive!
The good news is that I have pretty good muscle memory. I.e., I can still play soccer. It’s great actually to know that all of those years of playing will be with me forever. Even if my body can’t quite handle the pace, I can still dribble, shoot and hopefully score as if I have never stopped playing (or stopped playing not too long ago…)
I wish the break in weather had come a day early, but do not dwell on it. Well, I do a bit, because I just got up to go out for a few minutes and realized that my muscles are still in spasm from yesterday. But other than the hobbling I’m just enjoying the day. In fact, everyone in DC has a smile on their face today. It’s simply beautiful. Here’s hoping it doesn’t revert to the dreaded HHH weather too soon.
Tuesday, June 7, 2011
Wiener Roast
I’ve owned the George Forman indoor/outdoor grill for the better part of a decade. It is a wonderful machine. I’m reminded of this almost every night here in DC, because after a few years in storage, it has emerged like an O.G. prize fighter. It’s grillin like the champ it’s named after. Back in my East Village days, I had an annual Wiener Roast on my roof. It was classic New York. My roof on E. 9th street and 2nd avenue had 360 degree views of the 5 boroughs, albeit accessible only by climbing 7 flights of stairs. It managed around 20 of my closest friends without feeling crammed to the brim. And my Forman cooked wiener after wiener, no problem.
Speaking of wieners (segue way indeed) the latest to be grilled is of course the NY Representative. What a douche bag. It’s becoming exhausting that powerful men in this day and age still think they need sex so bad and still think they can get away with soliciting smut. While this is no IMF scandal, it does remind professional hard working women like me that while men no longer grab us on the ass at work, we still have to deal with sexism. My gorgeous blonde hair blue eyed big boobed friend Amy tells me receiving lewd pictures via text or twitter is commonplace. Sigh.
This morning as I listened to some stupid pundit wax lyrical about the bigger issue of Anthony’s super ego, I rolled my eyes and thought, no he’s just a dumb guy. A really really dumb guy. It also made me question what it must be like to be an elected official in this country. What must the view be like from that side of power that one thinks he can engage in such degrading behavior and still govern people.
The only moment of hilarity in all of this was the notable absence of this discussion during the Eliot Spitzer hour on CNN last night. The scandal of Weiner’s admission broke literally minutes before his broadcast and I can imagine how the conversation with the producer went:
ES: “No way, Jose”
P: “Come on, we have to. It’s breaking now. Now now”
ES: “No way, Jose”
P: “Come on, we have to. He lied to our very own Wolfie. NO ONE lies to Wolfie
and gets away with it!”
ES: “No way, Jose. ”
P: “Sigh, I guess we’ll have to wait an entire hour and go with that clown
celebri-news guy Piers then.”
ES: “La la la not listening.”
Sure enough, the very second CNN kicked Spitzer off the stage, in comes Piers with the breaking news (minus 1 hour). The hour that was supposed to be Mitt’s was spent dissecting and diagnosing wieners. Poor Mitt, can’t buy a headline…
*Note of correction: the Spitz did mention the story and make a brief passing acknowledgement of the familiar terrain...so what Wolfie wants, Wolfie gets, but I still imagine the above conversation took place!
Speaking of wieners (segue way indeed) the latest to be grilled is of course the NY Representative. What a douche bag. It’s becoming exhausting that powerful men in this day and age still think they need sex so bad and still think they can get away with soliciting smut. While this is no IMF scandal, it does remind professional hard working women like me that while men no longer grab us on the ass at work, we still have to deal with sexism. My gorgeous blonde hair blue eyed big boobed friend Amy tells me receiving lewd pictures via text or twitter is commonplace. Sigh.
This morning as I listened to some stupid pundit wax lyrical about the bigger issue of Anthony’s super ego, I rolled my eyes and thought, no he’s just a dumb guy. A really really dumb guy. It also made me question what it must be like to be an elected official in this country. What must the view be like from that side of power that one thinks he can engage in such degrading behavior and still govern people.
The only moment of hilarity in all of this was the notable absence of this discussion during the Eliot Spitzer hour on CNN last night. The scandal of Weiner’s admission broke literally minutes before his broadcast and I can imagine how the conversation with the producer went:
ES: “No way, Jose”
P: “Come on, we have to. It’s breaking now. Now now”
ES: “No way, Jose”
P: “Come on, we have to. He lied to our very own Wolfie. NO ONE lies to Wolfie
and gets away with it!”
ES: “No way, Jose. ”
P: “Sigh, I guess we’ll have to wait an entire hour and go with that clown
celebri-news guy Piers then.”
ES: “La la la not listening.”
Sure enough, the very second CNN kicked Spitzer off the stage, in comes Piers with the breaking news (minus 1 hour). The hour that was supposed to be Mitt’s was spent dissecting and diagnosing wieners. Poor Mitt, can’t buy a headline…
*Note of correction: the Spitz did mention the story and make a brief passing acknowledgement of the familiar terrain...so what Wolfie wants, Wolfie gets, but I still imagine the above conversation took place!
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