Taaake we off our gay apparel, falalala lalalala…
…Puuut them away-ay in some drawers, falalala lalalala…
The holidays are over for another year. It’s back to plain food, brass tacks and resuming one’s normal affairs. I think I shall be on the hunt for a new affair, however. I’ve being seeing Raul, (or Rrrrrrrah-ooh!-l, as he’s become know in housewifing circles) the specialist-disinfectant delivery-man*, since November but to tell you the truth, it’s all gone a bit stale and even a housewife as punctilious as I can use only so many bottles of specialised cleaning agents.
However, a girlfriend of mine has put me in touch with a discreet little service that promises to “pair wanton housewives with strapping, illegal immigrants (male) from South America in desperate need of money.” So discreet was this service, and so confusing, myriad and specialised have these little mom-and-pop “international introduction agencies” become in California, I made a couple of serious missteps and was not careful enough in my initial enquiries. I’m still facing the legal consequences of my name being found on the books of an outfit specialising in “one-ton housewives trapping illegal immigrants” for enjoyment in their own home. You can see how I went wrong.
It’s slavery or something, apparantly, but my lawyer thinks it’ll be fine. I’m pleading not guilty on account of the language barrier. We’re arguing that, confusion is bound to reign when a Scottish lady of officially impeccable character tries to communicate with a lisping Venezualan bandito in possession of only half a tongue (some kinky Canadian housewife tried to pierce it for, as she testified, her “future enhanced pleasure once the scab healed” with a dolly-head clothes-peg and a meat mallet. Unfortunately the clothespeg caused a horrible infection and she had to pay for surgeons to remove part of his tongue. The 90s were a terrible time for pool-boy-addicted housewives sharing dirty clothespegs – they had to set up a clothespeg exchange in the end, to stop the senseless waste of South American tongues) …where was I?
Oh yes, we, my lawyer and I, contend the word “slavery” is easily lost in translation under these circumstances although the judge remarked there seemed to be no muddle at all as to their having to be illegal immigrants, legal and illegal being such very similar words. Which is odd.
But we are confident that once again the great wheels of American justice will grind out a verdict in favour of the one with the lightest skin. Some people might be appalled at that and call it unfair but, my lawyer explained to me, US justice is demonstrably and quite literally skewed towards fairness, although having freckles can blemish your record. (I swiftly had mine laserifically removed in one of the many corner plastic-surgeons around here, so I should be OK, LOL!) Well I couldn’t argue with that so I’m happy to pretend to myself I’m in the right. Anyways, I await my first match from the new agency with tremendous excitment.
What else is happening to brighten the first two traditionally gloomy months of the year? Well, Iowa is caucasing tomorrow to ensure Iowan windows stay firmly in place until the next presidential election cycle. It’s always fun seeing candidates trying to out-folksy each other to win Iowanian hearts and minds, which is very like winning Eye-ranian hearts and minds only with poorer enunciation, which is itself like that time when the Virgin Mary was visited by the angel only this was the Shia Muslim virgin Mary version, generally believed to have taken place in rural Iowa. See it makes perfect sense. I don’t know why people say the caucus system is archaic and unnecessarily complicated. As long as you know about its Persian roots, you’re fine. Santa’s Persian too, as it goes. And leprechauns. Not a lot of people know that.
Other exciting things are happening early in the year as well. I am going to travel to Ireland on the way home to pick up my frightened-flier mother and take her over here for a holiday. I’m trying to plan it to coincide with the Irish blog awards in Dublin, in the hopes of getting to meet as many of me Irish blogging pals as won’t run away from me as I can in a few short days. Any Irishers up for a few wee drinkies with a Scottisher, eh? I’ve already demanded the splendid fatmammycat set aside some time for me which she has graciously agreed to, also agreeing to fall off the wagon for a few days while I’m in town, This falling we will do graciously too, observing all decorum, I’m sure of it. She with her fabulous ankles and me with my immaculate white pinny. Such fun! I cannae wait so I cannae!
* I need a clever ruse to justify regular gentlemen callers, so’s the neighbours don’t talk. The Problem Husband, despite his name, has no problem with my little flings. He quite likes another fella around the place to talk rotating axials with. We both believe our marriage is the stronger for me not making him read my blog and him not making me talk rotating axials.
January 3rd, 2008 at 8:45 am
I believe she’s called the Virgin Mariam in Eye Ran. If a one ton lady invites a half-tongued Latino into her home, isn’t that her rightful right under the Bill of Rights.
January 3rd, 2008 at 8:55 am
Nanas – you appear to be under the preposterous impression that this is some kind of land of the free or something. Rightful rights under the Bill of Rights only extend as far as the regulation of semi-automatic weapons and boys kissing. Constitutionally I have no idea what the position of a one-ton lady is, but I do hope for the half-tongued Latino’s sake that she’s not on top.
January 3rd, 2008 at 9:52 am
Oh Ireland! Aren’t you the lucky one! And to meet FMC and maybe even Ginger Bonce. Too much excitement. Funny you should mention Persia as a Persian appears in my next episode but I’m battling with a weird January bug which erupts in the late afternoon and knocks me offf balance. Such a bore
January 3rd, 2008 at 11:27 am
I knew about Santa. Someone told me at a leprechaun caucus I think it was. Then again it could have been a Christmas carpet convention.
January 3rd, 2008 at 12:03 pm
One sees in this post a clash of cultures. Among you California types, the illegal Latin Americans are pool boys in all their chlorinated glory. Here, they are out in the yard with a weed whacker. Thus, they are covered with grass clippings instead of Bain du Boleil, which causes the EMBLOS to avoid them, as the grass clippings make a mess of things indoors.
Plus, its nine degrees at the moment and they’re not around anyway. Thus, I have to get home earlier in the afternoon.
Cheers.
January 3rd, 2008 at 12:37 pm
Hilarious – hope to see you at the awards
January 3rd, 2008 at 5:13 pm
If leprechauns were Persian, they’d dress better.
January 3rd, 2008 at 6:46 pm
There may be trouble ahead,
But while there’s rum, and music
and ice in my drink
Let’s raise our glasses and clink.
‘Oh Bar keep Two sluts and an avarice ple-ase. Oh slo–ths, sorry sorry. Yes, two of dem too.’
Eeeeeee.
January 4th, 2008 at 6:50 am
This is exactly why I am running out of pegs at the moment. Exactly.
January 4th, 2008 at 7:26 am
Pat, I just need to get my passport renewed. Fmc and I are going to drink the 7 deadly sins in a cocktail bar and I’m meeting some other bloggers too. I’m gle, tres and veray excited, and that’s all 3 sorts of excited! Sorry to hear about your afternoon bug, toots. A wee medicinal kir might work blackcurranty wonders on you.
Sneezy, as God is my witness one day I will attend a Christmas carpet convention! Or I could just go to either Vegas or a small Scottish hotel – acknowledged kings of the hallucinogenic carpet world.
Rand, oooooooooh! Randall and the EMBLOS up a tree, K. I.S.S.I.N.G…
(To be sung, unusually, to the tune Copacabana because all childhood rhymes could use a funky Latin update)
Flirty, likewise I hope I’ll see you there although I have to warn you I’ll be deep undercover in a Hebrifornian housewife disguise.
Kara, I agree. Leprechauns would be well advised to adopt a more metrosexual look in these modern times. Maybe have a shave and a facial. It’s all buckles with them and buckles are so over.
fmc, i’m a bit worried about the Wrath one. Won’t it be a bit burny going down? We’d better have some crisps too, just for gullet health.
Carolyn, *shakes head indulgently* You newly-weds and your clothespegs… Giggle.
January 4th, 2008 at 12:47 pm
we can go for a classy kebab after.
January 4th, 2008 at 7:04 pm
How many of the average immigrants are able to hold up their end of your husband’s rotating axial conversations anyway? I would very much like one of those…. immigrants, not conversations (which simply make me feel justifiably inadequate)
January 5th, 2008 at 1:23 am
Too much desperate auld wans, if you ask me.
And Merikans are nice, specially Hebridian bendy young wans.
Your mother and I have much in common, white knuckle scardy cats are we, and I shall expect her to be like your gran, and if not we both shall blame you. It matters not that your gran may be paternal, it will be your fault.
Sam, when’s the blogger gig? And where will it be held? Looks like I?m Sniffle-no-friends.
You, Bock and Gimme made me angry with your recent postings, very angry, and I’m all dressed up with nowhere to go. A session with bloggers might dissipate.
January 5th, 2008 at 7:59 pm
Much of my extended family back in California is Latin, though all boringly legal as far as I know, and every last one of them still has a whole tongue. Or at least they all did the last time I was there, though God only knows what the situation is now, given how much Californians love fads.
Too bad I’m so near but yet so far away from Ireland! I’m a cheap drink, needing only one tequila sunrise or two glasses of wine to get well and truly inebriated, and I have a cat that looks exactly like FMC’s, except mine wears only her white fur. Have a good time, though, and if your blog doesn’t win something big, there is no justice in the world!
January 6th, 2008 at 10:31 am
Mary beware: one tequila, two tequila, three tequila floor!
It’s OK Sam the kir is doing its stuff!
January 6th, 2008 at 6:37 pm
I still don’t know why there isn’t an equivalent Scottish Blogger Awards for ex-pat Scots and people who live here, and people who know the difference between a kilt and skirt – even if it’s on a man, if it’s black and made of leather, it’s not a kilt. Not that I care about kilts, even if I have the perfeect calves for them.
You should start them up Sam, and get Dr Maroon to compere the evening.
January 7th, 2008 at 6:59 am
fmc, what about an elegant fish supper and a pickled egg?
SafeT, lots of hand movements. Circular hand movements.
Sniffly, not so much organisation as a gig really. I’m just scrabbling around and being impertinent – seeing if anyone wants a few drinks and a yarn. Look to your email in the next few days, toots.
Mary, for all my big talk I’m a wuss these days with the swallie. Time was when…ah but that’s time was. What with the dollar having all the value of a woman in Saudi Arabia it shouldn’t break the bank to maintain a jolly wee head of an evening in dublin. One day it is my plan to venture into Southern Scotland to see all you Borders up to Perth gang whether you want me to or not!. It’s sad but i don’t know any Scottish bloggers north of Perth.
Pat, must be all that Vitamin C. Blackberries punch above their weight with antioxidants too. All hail Kir! Panacea of the twenty-noughties! It’s like Ribena and disprin for grown-ups.
Kim, t’would be a laugh indeed and I couldn’t imagine a more splendid compere than Docs, but I haven’t the organizational skills and also I haven’t the organisational skills for such an event. That and it being 7000 miles to th’auld countree. And I haven’t the organisational skills. If I were to attempt such a thing I might forget to feed my children, or try to worm my husband or discuss weighty matters of the day with the cat. I can’t afford to give the neighbours any more to disapprove of. I just can’t.
January 7th, 2008 at 12:08 pm
I can’t believe that I just got back from the emerald isle and that you are going to be there at some point soon? the fates are cruel!
January 7th, 2008 at 3:30 pm
(Sam … I’ve posted a bigger one…. ooo er missus)
January 7th, 2008 at 4:47 pm
Shit, Sam, I’ll be there too late to meet you. Don’t cripple FMC with the drink so she can still stand when I get there!
January 8th, 2008 at 12:21 am
Spritey, that is one of the most elegant wedding dresses I’ve ever seen – you were absolutely gorgeous, the more so for maintaining your own obvious style and individuality. Beautiful, so you were!
Medbh, I’m sorry I’ll miss you. I shall certainly give crippling Miss Cat with hooch a damn good shot but I’m afeared I’ll not be up to it so she should still be in good imbibing order by the time you get there. I’ll have to use all my accumulated drinking smarts to pace myself because I don’t normally drink spirits on account of being rubbish. I really want at least 4 deadly sins though.
January 8th, 2008 at 7:04 pm
How do you feel about accepting awards? I want to give you one.
January 8th, 2008 at 10:51 pm
Spit laughing here Sam! I manage to watch Fox news for about three minutes on the election. Sheesh that change word was getting a bashing.
Please tell them to change the record, or change their underpants.
And BO is a bit lite on policy, he reminds me a a certain TB 10 years ago. All that wave and turning the page stuff, next he’ll be singing “You are the wind beneath my wings”
And poor old Hillary, she’s singing, “It shoulda been me!!!” ‘Cept she should have sung it to Bill 10 years ago.
I want a Democrat win, but nobody is impressing me. Just as well I don’t have a vote.
January 9th, 2008 at 4:15 pm
Sam: re the award I see Eryl has beaten me to it. Congrats – richly deserved. She also gave me one, but amazingly Kenju had beaten her to it. We must be doing something right:)
January 9th, 2008 at 11:50 pm
Excuse me? When did you last hear of Irishers wanting to run away from Scottishers when there was mention of drinkies?
It can’t happen. It’s the law.