Equality...sort-of...

So, yesterday was the big day in the UK. For the first time in it's very long history, the UK allowed same-sex couples to officially register their relationships. Due to some rule however, there is a 2 week waiting period between registering and actually getting recognized so the first ceremonies won't take place until December 21. I wish I could feel really excited about this but it just feels a little lack-luster. The newspapers have been carrying many articles about this issue but they're all more-or-less about the expected boom to the marriage industry now that "pink weddings" will start. I don't know if it's just silly of me but I'm really getting kinda offended by the expectation that gay weddings will be anything different (on the whole) than straight weddings. These articles anticipate a huge rise in business for the makers of feather boas and the representatives of drag queens. Come on! From my, albeit rather biased, perspective, the only area that will be affected will be the greeting card industry. I've been subjected to articles telling me that so and so is excited about the new law and has introduced his and his towels proclaiming, "Nearest, Dearest, Queerest". Ugh! Mrs. Whatever from the London Zoo says, "We're expecting many requests for gay 'weddings' since homosexuals are usually animal lovers." Excuse me? Some hotels have started stocking pink champagne. I am so sick of this stuff. Am I right to be offended? I don't know but I am nonetheless. We've been demanding equality for so long and now that it's arriving, kind-of, in the UK, it has to be portrayed as purely business. Also annoying is the fact that the law introduces civil unions which are equal in all regards to marriage except that they are not called marriage. Therefore, all articles use quotes when talking about everything (the new "marriages" will be equal in all regards to straight marriage, people are getting very excited about the "weddings".) Ugh! I also hate that people refer to gay weddings as "pink" weddings. When did we become associated with a color? I'll tell you when. It was when the Nazis branded us with pink triangles. Sure, the pink triangle has now become a symbol of our community but I really hate pink and it's history still being used to label a whole cross-section of the population.

Naturally I should be focusing on the fact that at long last another country is welcoming gay couples to the fold. Also, there has been almost no furor over it here; the conservative politicians have welcomed the move, religious groups have said almost nothing, I have yet to see any bad comments in the opinions pages, businesses are excited, etc. Hopefully now that the UK, Belgium, the Netherlands, Spain, Canada (and soon South Africa) have accepted gay unions, the rest of the world will see the benefits. New Zealand and Australia can't be far off. Nor can Scandinavia or Germany. When will the U.S. wake up and offer full equality to all it's citizens?
Anyway, excuse the rant. It's a happy time despite the annoyances.

A sign near my house...

Things that confuse me about this sign:
1. The establishment is not a hotel...
2. What does grill taste like?
3. Are they sure people want that?
4. I can't help but pronounce 'Flaminn' with a soft 'a'...
5. The font makes me think of lighter fluid not food.

On a separate note, why can't the brits come up with a cadence for their phone numbers? In the U.S., it's always 3 numbers, 4 numbers, 4 numbers. I believe it's the same delivery in Canada. In the UK though, it's not strange to get a string of numbers rattled at you like this: 02075246351 or 02075 246351 or 020 7524 6351 or 02 0752 46 351. This seems petty but try to remember a phone number when it doesn't have a cadence...it's hard.

The Weekend that Was...

This weekend started on Friday morning. After pointing out early last week that I am the most senior member of the staff to not have had a business trip, I was invited to attend the annual luncheon of the International Steel Traders' Association. This is not really what I had in mind but of course I agreed. My boss has, in the past, asked me to adjust my appearance. This is something I'm not used to and don't take very kindly to. On one occasion he told me that if they were to send me on a trip, he'd want me to have a shave and a haircut to which I of course replied, “Patrick, I'd love to shave but I can't afford a razor on this salary.” I'm fairly direct usually. When asking me to attend the ISTA luncheon, he said, “If you could make yourself presentable, I'd like you to go.” This was coming from an over-weight, uni-browed man who can often be spotted in large, stretched t-shirts and jeans. I on the other hand am usually wearing nice jeans, shirt-sweater combos with tie and sometime a sports jacket. Anyway, I said “I assume by that comment that you mean more presentable.” and agreed to go. Friday came and I was greeted with many compliments from the men at work, comments such as, “Wow, he can dress-up.”, “Wo Jason, new duds?”, “Who do you have to give the tie back to?” The girls in the office of course, didn't understand since they've noticed this particular outfit before and are well aware that I generally look good. Sometimes these stupid guys just really annoy the hell out of me.

I don't really mingle or schmooze, especially with steel traders. Luckily though, I didn't really have to. Lucia and I got to The Brewery (a huge posh venue) at 10 in order to set up a table and assist Jenny with the other set-up since our company was sponsoring the event. There was not much to do so we took advantage of the open bar with a few screwdrivers. When lunch was finally served and the thousand or so steel people had become sufficiently buzzed, we were treated to a three-course meal and all the wine we wanted. Boring speeches, etc. At about five, after everyone was finished and speeches had been heard, we were told that now was when everything really started. It was time to go to the pub. Steel people drink! I don't really like being drunk so I had slowed significantly during lunch. At the pub my boss kept plopping champagne down on our table at £30 a bottle. I think we must have gone through about 12 or so and it was delicious and didn't bring about ridiculous drunkenness or needless hangover. Anyway, that was my big foray into the business world. Moral of Friday: straight bosses only notice my outfits when they're nervous about how I'll represent them and steel people drink-often well.

Saturday was spent wandering around on Oxford street with all it's Christmas joys; mostly crowds. I didn't really do much purchasing but it was fun to look at everything. Especially exciting was seeing the Selfridge's Christmas window displays, the models for which I got to assist with back when I was working on the film here. They turned out really cool and almost exactly as they had in the models. If I get a chance I'll take some pictures.

On Sunday, Lucia and I headed out of the city to Oxford for a day of proper England. We were lazy and just walked around looking at the university and the quaint town before stopping in a pub for Sunday roast. It was a fantastically chill day of tourism.




Blah blah blah, I hate this post... I hope you're not bored...

Scissors and Pirouettes...

On Thursday evening after many tube delays and detours I managed to get to Sadler's Wells for a production of the world debut production of Matthew Bourne's ballet, Edward Scissorhands. It was really something to see. It managed to keep the emotion of the film and occasionally added to it with the beautiful dance. This is highly recommended and I imagine it will be in New York at some point as well as some world tour as most of Bourne's stuff manages to hit a particular nerve with a lot of people. Anyway, it was really cool. Here's a pic from the website:

Today is World AIDS Day...think about it...

"I Am My Own Wife"...

is bloody brilliant! If you have the opportunity, it is crucial that you see it. A lot of the time, theatre is (especially commercial theatre) worn down to the lowest common denominator in order to make it most accessible for an audience. This play on the other hand is different and gets it's audience in that difference. It reels the audience in, seemingly jumping up and down yelling, "I have a story to tell about a person, a time, and a place. Shut the fuck up, attention must be paid!" I don't think I've ever sat in an auditorium so still. There was no talking, no ringing, shuffling, or rustling; all attention was devoted to the breathtaking performance on stage. It really was an awesome experience.

In I Am My Own Wife, there is one actor who, with only a change of voice, posture, tone, plays many different characters-all fully. Centrally, it's the memoir, as told to the playwrite, of an East-German transvestite who lived openly as a cross-dressing gay man through the Nazi and Soviet regimes. Her story is very compelling-but equally compelling is the story-telling.

Since coming to London I've developed a bit of a love for languages. Language groups, their relationships, histories and...stories are incredibly interesting to me right now. In the case of this play, a lot of the "dialogue" takes place in English and German. While Doug Wright was careful to make sure the English-only audience never felt lost, his translations were always sort-of semi-translations. Thankfully my broken German got me through and, as evidenced by my solo laughter, I think I got a lot more than most people there. I even understood a couple German puns! Here's an example of the delicate blend of language and part of why I find myself fascinated by them: Early on, the author is interviewing Charlotte about the museum she curates. It's becoming clear that she is more interesting than her things tough and that she is, in fact, the more important museum. She tells him, "It was during the Nazi raids, I became this house." Easy for most people but they perhaps think the playwrite is pushing a bit for the metaphor. In fact though, it's brilliant. In German, the verb, 'to get' is 'bekommen' and the in simple past tense, 'bekam'. The poetry of how the sentence was created in all it's depth and simplicity stayed with me the whole show and added more than if I thought she merely talked funny. Umm...sorry bout that.

Anyway, Jefferson Mays, as the cast, was fully deserving of his Tony. He's astounding vocally (he switches between accents with amazing ease-Boston, old German woman/man, Southern American man speaking German and English, Russian, Japanese, Indian, British, etc.) and physically. Every little thing he did was full of his thought and had a meaning. Without the cliche one-person-talks-back-and-forth-by-switching-sides routine, he simply changed a crucial gesture and the audience understood.

Anyway, sorry about the school report/gush nature of this post. Moral of this story: see this play.

I don't belong on this side...

The BBC is interviewing my boss right now, right next to me. I am, I think, in frame and it makes me very self-conscious.

It's the little things...

that piss me off:

• being asked to arrive early to 9am appointment but finding the door locked until 9:07 and therefore having to stand in the cold
• coins, especially those worth 2 of anything
• being told, "no, sorry, we don't have a rubbish bin" when I can see it
• people using the fake word 'orientated' instead of actual word 'oriented'
• people using the term 'oriental' to describe food, fashion, music, and people
• bus stops declaring that the bus will stop there every 7-10 minutes but I've been waiting 45
• looking for the proper door which isn't marked. the other doors however violently direct you to the unmarked one
• typos in reputable newspapers
• hot water that fades in and out
• post-its

Thanksgiving....

It would be very easy for me to bemoan the fact that I was stuck in England during Thanksgiving; that auspicious day of turkey, stuffing, thanks-giving, parades, triptophane, pumpkin pie, and family. Instead though, I will endevour to revel in the good: 1) it's been nice to explain the holiday to interested non-americans and tell them about American culture in a world that often believes we have none. 2) separation makes the heart grow fonder. 3) ice skating at the tower of London is not something I could have done in Watertown. 4) tonight I have a make-shift dinner with my make-shift gang of international friends and some others. For a lot of them, it will be the first Thanksgiving of their lives and, hopefully, I will find some joy at being surrounded by my new friends, eating, and celebrating my favorite day.

Rock On Rabbi!

Here's a transcript of a speech given by Rabbi Eric Yoffie, President of America's largest Jewish organization. Please read:

"We are particularly offended by the suggestion that the opposite of the Religious Right is the voice of atheism. We are appalled when "people of faith" is used in such a way that it excludes us, as well as most Jews, Catholics, and Muslims. What could be more bigoted than to claim that you have a monopoly on God and that anyone who disagrees with you is not a person of faith?

So we ask our neighbors on the Religious Right to take note: We are religious Jews, gathered in Houston to study, pray, and commit ourselves to God. And yes, we are generally liberal in our politics. But our liberalism flows directly from our religious commitments.

And we worry that you don't understand what this means, or what it means for anyone to be a liberal religious believer.

What it means is this: that we bring a measure of humility to our religious belief. We study religious texts day and night, but we have no direct lines to heaven and we aren't always sure that we know God's will.

It means believing that religion involves concern for the poor and the needy, and giving a fair shake to all. When people talk about God and yet ignore justice, it just feels downright wrong to us. When they cloak themselves in religion and forget mercy, it strikes us as blasphemy.
It means that "family values" require providing health care to every child and that God cares about the 12 million children without health insurance. It means valuing a child with diabetes over a frozen embryo in a fertility clinic, and seeing the teaching of science as a primary social good.

And it means reserving the right for each person to prayerfully make decisions for herself about when she dies.

It also means believing in legal protection for gay couples. We understand those who believe that the Bible opposes gay marriage, even though we read that text in a very different way. But we cannot understand why any two people who make a lifelong commitment to each other should be denied legal guarantees that protect them and their children and benefit the broader society. We cannot forget that when Hitler came to power in 1933, one of the first things that he did was ban gay organizations. And today, we cannot feel anything but rage when we hear about gay men and women, some on the front lines, being hounded out of our armed services. Yes, we can disagree about gay marriage. But there is no excuse for hateful rhetoric that fuels the hellfires of anti-gay bigotry.

It's a popularly known truth...

that I don't really like people. Well, I should say, I don't like most people. That disposition is not helped by my morning and evening commutes on Transport for London Buses. The buses, to begin with, are invariably driven by people who have no business driving a car, let alone a bus. As I sit, usually upstairs, and try to read my book, I am constantly jerked around by the driver's foot pumping the brake. These people don't know how to ease so instead one gets whiplash - if one is sitting. If one is standing, the brake-pumping results in a hideous farce of flailing and slip-sliding. There's a lot of uncomfortable groping and half-smile apology. In addition to the brakes making my book bounce, I also have to deal with the baby crying (there's always a crying baby) on the lower level. On the upper level, in the evenings, there are teenagers. I'm not sure if y'all are aware of the fact that I'm apparently a grumpy old man or that British teenagers are perhaps the worst, most obnoxious bunch of kids in the world. They are quick-tempered, accusatory, smart-assed, and baiting. Those niceties, combined with the new play-music-on-your-mobile phone craze have yielded a huge new pet peeve. There are always these bitchy little girls with a phone cranked to high volume who HAVE to listen to the worst music without headphones. Then, when I glance back at them and apparently give away my secret inner disdain, they latch on to it and sneak into the seat behind me to play the music right behind my head. I hate these kids. How can I read with the music and the girls and the baby and the brakes? Buses blow.

Really cool...and really hot...

I'm not sure if Adidas' new rugby commercial is played in the U.S. Rugby, I've learned, is a really cool game and, even cooler is the Haka that is performed by the New Zealand squad before big games. The Haka is a Maori war dance and chant that is used by New Zealand's "All Blacks" to rally before a game and to intimidate the other team. Look at it here. Or, learn more about it with this video. I don't know why but I think it rocks.

Have they finally gone completely mad?

Yesterday, the House of Representatives narrowly defeated a budget plan which would have, among other atrocities stripped health care by $900 MILLION. That includes major cuts to the CDC (that's Centers for Disease Control). Really?!? As we gear up to grapple with a potential pandemic of bird flu and as congress has been asked to approve an astronomical amount of money for preparations for a pandemic-is that really the time to try and strip money from health care? This president, in his desire for popularity and higher approval ratings has made history by granting tax cuts for the first time in our country's existence during a time of war. We can't fund a war and continue to enjoy our standard of living if taxes are cut. Why don't people get that when taxes are cut, benefits are cut more. I'm very angry. In addition to the disgusting cut of health care, the proposed budget also froze Pell Grants. That marks the first time in a decade that cuts would have been made to education-under the supervision of "the education president". It also tried to cut health care benefits and food stamps programs in order to offset the costs of the hurricanes. We have to take money from the poorest people in order to help? In response, Georgie had this to say [with my comments]:

"I applaud the Republican Members [Idiots!] of the House who passed a significant savings package that will restrain spending [except militarily] and keep us on track to cut the deficit in half by 2009 [even as experts predict the deficit will continue to grow]," the statement said. "We will continue to fund our priorities in a fiscally responsible [bullshit!!] way and ensure that taxpayer money is spent wisely [aka on a war that we have no business in] or not spent at all. I urge the House and Senate to reach agreement promptly on a spending-reduction package that I can sign into law this year[nice hint at your veto power asshole]."

He's so hateable!

If you need a little pick me up now, check this video of yesterday's speech by Rep. Murtha (conservative democrat, major patriot, former marine): video

Volare...Oh Oh...Cantare...

Part the First: In Which Becki Comes to London...

The fun started on November 2nd when Becki finally got to Gatwick. After what was intended to be a very stylized slow-motion style, Love Actually-like, reunion but which turned out to be just a happy hug, we started THE BIG TRIP. After we got all settled and had the bags put in their place, I escorted her on a walking tour of London. It was very refreshing to see the city from that perspective. After you live somewhere, especially in a city, you often stop visiting those areas that are "touristy" but which, in actuality, influenced you to move there in the first place. Or maybe that's just me? At any rate, I loved showing off this city. We eventually worked our way to Carnaby Street and "The Shakespeare's Head" for a traditional pub meal. Earlier in the day, we had fully addressed Becki's irrational fear of fish so, waiting for the fish and chips was semi-nerve-wracking. We weren't sure if there would be a head and, if there was, what we would do. Anyway, we gorged ourselves and then went for cocktails in Soho. We eventually made our way to some bar with a poster of a drag queen promising a night, "more fun than a day at the job centre." We got there just in time for the start of the evening which was, naturally, a drag queen-hosted game show called "Bling Blang Blung" featuring the talents of Laquisha Jonz. Ridiculous games occurred and we had fun even though I got all of my questions wrong.

The rest of our time in London flew by. On Thursday we saw the new Shunt Show underneath London Bridge Station which was kinda cool but not as cool as their last show. On Friday we looked at the Tate Modern and had dinner at Nando's, a restaurant which people are constantly raving about but is actually kinda gross. On Saturday we met up with Marcelo and spent the day walking around the Portobello Road market. Anyway, London was fun; we had many laughs, we did some things, we poked fun at strangers and enjoyed seeing one another. Then...

Part the Second: In Which we find Spirituality and a Ducken...

Very (too?) early on the 6th, we flew to Rome (henceforth referred to as Roma.) During the flight I read my travel book and found that November is the rainiest month for Roma but I refused to accept this. I knew the gods would grant us a pleasant stay. We landed and promptly stood in line, in the pouring rain, for half an hour waiting for our bus. I was slightly amused. Becki was not. No biggie though, the rain let up while we were on the bus and we got to Termini only slightly damp and happy to note that we were comfortable sans coats. We checked into the Hotel Fawlty Towers and headed out to explore.

We saw some things: Piazza di Spagna, some mausoleum, the river Tiber and a bridge full of Bernini angels leading to Castel San Angelo. I'm not sure how everyone else feels but, I am constantly amazed by the sculpture of Bernini. I could stare at it for hours on end. Anyway, we continued from the bridge to Vatican City, stopping on the way for gelato. We were so lucky to go to St. Peter's when we did. Just as we walked in a vespers service was starting at the far end of the church. There's really nothing quite like St. Peter's. I'm not what you'd call a religious person but the sheer beauty of that building and the attention and care exacted in it's design makes me a little weak in the knees. All of that beauty was of course heightened by the sounds of mass going on; complete with organ and singing. If you ever get to, go to St. Peter's and try to feel what's going on. I'm not especially spiritual but the confluence of art and atmosphere in this place just feels so intense. Moral of this story-go to Roma, see St. Peter's Basilica at some point in your life.

Mass was ended, we went in peace to the square where the rain really started. This time however there was no bus coming to get us. We just had to tough it out and walk the 45 minutes or so while cowering under one umbrella. Admittedly, Becki got much wetter than I did and had to remove her glasses. She was therefore, cold, wet and blind in a foreign city where she didn't speak the language. That's an adventure! We made it home safe and sound and went to bed cold and tired.

Monday morning changed it all though. The rain was gone for good and we took off for a day looking at the Coliseum and the Forum. Il Foro Romano was much more interesting than I expected it to be and I was glad to spend some time there. After a few hours amongst the ruins we stopped at the National Monument and gazed at the tomb of the unknown soldier and various monumental sculptures. From here we hit Fontana di Trevi and then found the Pantheon which was a beautiful building but rather tragic. It's architecture very clearly denotes it as a "pagan" temple but it's decorated within in the most horrible "quick let's christian this place up" kinda way. So sad! In the piazza in front, we sat around a fountain and I eaves-dropped in German before a film crew showed up, seemingly making some kinda documentary. We may be in it. At one point, as Becki tried to wipe something off my face, I was forced to declare, "Never clean me in a documentary." When you think about it, those are words to live by.

After fun-with-film-crew time, we went to Piazza Navona for coffee and culture. Here we found a little Italian band with accordions and a crazy gypsy dancer who was quite viscous. Becki made a movie all about the viciousness and when I figure it out, I'll post it. After the dancing we witnessed a very bad British juggler who, "breeved fire."

We had agreed early on that we would go to the Trattoria dell'Omo for dinner one night as this was the site of many fond memories from my first trip to Roma. This visit however involved a table of about 20 Australian choir members. For a place with only one waiter, that puts a strain on everything. We had to wait a long time but it was okay because we got very drunk on cheap Italian wine. Evidence with toothpaste:

The next morning was, needless to say, rough:
We were in no mood to do much of anything so we headed to the park and just lounged all day. It was in the afternoon though that we started hearing strange noises. On closer inspection we discovered a pond full of ducks and geese and swans...and the ducken! The ducken was the strangest bird I'd ever seen. It looked to be some strange cross between a duck and a chicken (we could've called it a chuck!) and I'm pretty sure it quacked like a donkey.

After the park, we walked around for a while. We eventually sat at a cafe sipping coffees and peroni's while night set in. We found a little ristorante on the way back to the hostel that was great. It featured a large italian waiter who stood calmly in the doorway while another, smaller waiter buzzed around. I'm pretty sure they had aprons and towels tucked in their belts. We ate outside and after a while a street guitarist showed up to strum and sing (with the waiters singing back up) such songs as: Que Sera, Volare, and Arrivederci Roma. It was all so stylistically/aesthetically perfect. Arrivederci Roma indeed...

Part the Third: In Which We Glimpse Eden...

According to the legend, Hercules was in love with a nymph named Amalfi and was so sad when she died that he buried her in the most beautiful place on Earth and gave that place her name...

On Wednesday morning, we hopped a train da Roma, a Salerno. Once there, we got on a bus and rode for about an hour on a highway along the Mediterranean Sea. An hour on a bus might sound like a long time but, this was the most beautiful bus ride I've ever had. The whole way, the sea was on one side and mountains on the other. Amalfi is seriously beautiful and describing it would be futile so here are some pics:




So, we totally went to Amalfi! Our room was at A Scallinatella in Atrani which is an even smaller town about 10 minutes' walk from Amalfi on the sea coast. I can't think of a time in my life when I've felt any more at peace than I did in this amazing place. Any nagging worries or concerns that I had melted away. I spent a day here hiking all over Amalfi and discovering secret little alleys and staircases that led to interesting places. I spent another day hiking through the valley which encloses Atrani. I got up early and took off up into the mountains. There were many cocks actually crowing and I got to see an chickens being fed and the sun peeking into the valley. It's been said that "The day of judgment for those that die in Amalfi is probably just like any other day" and really... it couldn't be more true.

In addition to amazing natural beauty, we also ate the best meal of our lives. At La Cantina San Nicola, Becki and I tasted heaven. Turns out heaven tastes like this: smoked mozzarella between lemon leaves, Mama Margherita's Meatloaf, Lasagne Neopolitana, Stuffed Calimari and Stuffed Crepe. Delizioso!

We also spent some serious time on the beach. The Mediterranean was surprisingly warm and I'm so glad to have swam in it in November. There were lots of beautiful people about and a lot of little old ladies rockin their bikinis. Each night there we would go to the beach and stare at the stars and drink wine (which was about €2/bottle (coke was €3.50)). Drinking wine on a beach under stars with the sounds of waves and a great friend...it doesn't get much better than that. More pics:

Part the Fourth: In Which We Return to the Real World...

Once again we got to enjoy the bus trip back to Salerno and then we got on the train back to Roma. This time though we got to sit in a compartment with some very friendly Sicilianos. They were all very eager to talk but spoke no English. We therefore had a very interesting conversation which was more reliant on my phrase book than I would have liked. I learned how much this book sucked during this conversation. I've outlined below some phrases I wish I knew how to say and some that I can say thanks to the Berlitz Italian Phrase Book:

I was here in January. - ?
I have a vaginal infection. - Ho un'infezione vaginale.
Yes, I have a sunburn. - ?
I don't want it extracted. - Non voglio un'estrazione.
How long does the train take from Syracuse? - ?
Can you recommend a good steakhouse? - Puo consigliare un buon ristorante specializzato in bistecche?
No, I'm American but I live in London and I have Irish skin. We're in Italy on holiday. - ?
I am famous. - Mi famoso.
Oh, he likes the cover. - ?
This is really a crap book. - ?
I want a specimen of your stool. - Voglio un campione feci.
25 - ?
We're both 23. - ?
Do you speak German? - ?

Anyway, we had a nice chat even so. The one with down syndrome was apparently taken with my crap book because the signorinas on the cover were hot. I ripped off the cover and gave it to him as a souvenir of the two American kids that couldn't talk.

We flew from Roma to London on Saturday with Ryan Air which is a very cheap but also very inefficient airline. We met a crazy, semi-sober, elderly British woman who was very upset about the queuing (or not, as it were) in Ciampino airport. At one point she muttered to Becki and I, "I'm losin' the will ta live." We laughed. After a bus, a plane and two more buses, we finally got to my flat and crashed. On Sunday morning we woke up and watched The Music Man on TV and then headed to Hyde Park to take advantage of the perfect autumn weather.

Later on Sunday evening we met up with Marcelo and some other Brazilians for 'Gay Bingo' in Shoreditch. We drank many drinks and played a lot of bingo and it was crazy fun. Who knew gay bingo was where it's at? It was hosted by an insane drag queen (think Brent Barkhaus on speed) who called the numbers by weaving them into disgusting stories or scatting them like a punk rock jazz singer. So much fun!! We had an awesome time and it was the most cliche, bestest vacation ever. Ciao Becki, see you soon.



Then it was over and back to work on Monday. At least I get views like this from my office:

Stay Tuned...

I'm back from Italy and will be posting about my adventures with Becki soon!

A little news recap through my eyes...

So, Scooter's been indicted, Harriet's said a long-overdue 'goodbye', Alito's up, and then there's bird flu:

Some in the blog world have called last Friday Fitzmas in honor of Special Prosecutor Fitzgerald. I'm not satisfied though. Sure, Libby got nailed for lying to the grand jury which is inexcusable but so far, no one has gotten in trouble for leaking the name of a CIA operative. I refuse to believe that it was all circumstantial and that it wasn't a crime because the leakers didn't know she was an op. That's bull shit, they knew-the hard part of course, is proving they did. I'm also worried that the investigation is over without really looking into how much Dick and Bushie knew. I don't think a chief of staff would leak the name of an undercover op and then lie to a grand jury about it just because. He's obviously protecting someone and it's shameful. Also, it's very hard to judge the response of the public from this side of the pond. I'm willing to bet that the average American didn't know the investigation was going on, much less that the office of Chief of Staff exists. It's so depressing... So, someone tell me what's playing out in the States, outside of the NY Times.

Let's all say a collective 'Ciao' to Harriet Miers. She will be remembered for inadvertently bringing the parties together; united in disdain. Bye bye Har! Now we have a new ideologue to contend with in the form of Samuel A. Alito. I don't really know enough about him yet to legitimately dislike him. All I know is that President Bush has more adequately covered his bases and indeed his base with this one: the dude's a judge, a hardcore republican with a clear history of right-wing decision-making, he's religious but Catholic rather than Baptist. This is going to be a tough fight for the dems. Opposing a nominee on an ideological basis may be necessary but will not be well received. Thoughts?

Bird flu freaks me out. Yesterday's Metro told of the declaration by the Minister of Health for Australia that, should an outbreak of a human strain of bird flu occur in SE Asia as is feared, then virtually all international travel will be halted. I really don't want to be stuck in Britain in the face of a pandemic. All of the world's leading authorities on disease are calling a human strain and subsequent pandemic inevitable. The only question is when it will occur. I don't like it one bit. Here's an interesting tangent though: scientists say the virus WILL mutate to become a human disease. Is this evolution or intelligent design? Is the designer just sick of us and being creative by bringing death-by-bird or is this in the mold of the previous millennia of history which have shown that Darwin actually was on to something there?

They say everything is bigger in Texas....

but I bet England would win in a battle of the slugs. From my kitchen: