November 22, 2005

Dancing With The Devil

Remember my sister? The one who was in love with a Brazilian orphan? Yeah... well forget about him--she's moved on and so must we.

Now in all her years of bringing home guys, I've always been the encouraging, enthusiastic sister who just wants her to be happy. When she was dating the airline luggage handler 10 years her junior, I treated him well and even learned to like him. When she dated a man who unabashedly performed an Irish "Lord of the Dance" jig in my living room, I applauded and laughed. (I was supposed to laugh, right?) When she dated the golf pro- slightly younger than her- my heart broke when she ended the relationship. Even when the Brazilian Axe Murderer came into her life, I was careful not to discourage her, but she has brought me to my knees this time. She requires that which I cannot give and it's merely a matter of time before she realizes her sister has her limits and she's found them. I will tell you the story which took place nearly a month ago:

As in times past, I got the "I have a new boyfriend!" phone call. Once again, I rejoiced with her. And once again we set up a time to have lunch so I could meet him. They were passing through town and so we agreed on a local restaurant. I arrived after them and saw them sitting close together, giggling and obviously very happy. She introduced us, we shook hands, everything was pleasant and fairly groovy. And then things quickly became ungroovy with the asking of this simple question,

"So Ken, what do you do for a living?"

"I"m an anchorman."

"Oh...that would make you a journalist, wouldn't it! (See how pleasant I can be even as the churning in my stomach begins!)

"Yes, I am."

The waitress came giving me time to process this development: Boyfriend is an anchorman in San Francisco. That means he's a journalist in San Francisco. San Francisco is a cesspool of liberal thinking. Boyfriend is a FREAKING LIBERAL JOURNALIST! NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!! WHY CAN'T BOYFRIEND BE AN AXE MURDERING ORPHAN, JESUS?!?!?! WHY? WHY? WHYYYY???

I don't know exactly how it happened- the fog I've come to expect where my sister is concerned was thick and disorienting- I just remember him looking at me through those devil-slits as the words, "Are you a Republican?" oozed out of his blackened, blood-stained lips with mock incredulity.

I met those cold, steely orbs with the hint of a smile and cooly replied, "Actually, I consider myself a Conservative. A CHRISTIAN Conservative, in fact." A sulphuric stench escaped from his mouth as he recoiled with obvious revulsion. He was silent, apparently stunned by this admission.

My sister, on the other hand, kept twisting her napkin while rocking back and forth and mumbling "Oh God...Oh God...Oh God..." Finally, with feigned enthusiasm she said loud enough for the tables next to us to hear, "SO WHAT ABOUT THOSE 49ers!!!DO YOU GUYS WANT TO SPLIT A PIZZA?I'M STARVING!HONEY, WOULD YOU MIND GETTING MY SWEATER FROM THE CAR, IT'S CHILLY IN HERE!" He eyed me, I eyed him, he smiled at her and said, "Sure, right back." which is demon-code for, "It's ON, biyatch!"

The rest of the lunch was spent talking about mindless things, but the elephant in the room (Or was it a donkey?) had roared and all we could do was bide our time 'til the next time.

Pray for me, my brothers and sisters. I know not when the next meeting shall take place; I only know this: When it does, I will meet it with the grace of Laura Bush, the strength of Arnold Schwarzenneger and the mouth of Ann Coulter.

Posted by PamCHBF at 09:22 AM | Comments (4) | TrackBack

November 21, 2005

"Really special"

That was Bush's response to drinking fermented mare's milk in Mongolia and listening to their traditional Central Asian art of throat singing.

Some things in life are just so funny, you gotta love it!

Here's my new screensaver:


Posted by PamCHBF at 09:59 AM | Comments (4) | TrackBack

November 13, 2005

$8000 Later...

...and she's as good as new! My car, that is. She's finally home after the unfortunate incident with the pipe. Funny how we get attached to a bucket of bolts, isn't it? I've never had much affection for a car until this car. Maybe it's because Rocket Man always picked my cars. Ever the practical one-because engineers are NOTHING if not practical- he always got me something I needed, not necessarily something I wanted. This time, I kinda just made up my mind that this is what I wanted and he just went along with it. Yay him! So she's back home where she belongs, all shiny and pretty. I think I'll go hug her again. AFTER I polish her one more time. ;-)

Posted by PamCHBF at 08:22 PM | Comments (0) | TrackBack