A million dollar vertical smile, n'est-ce pas?

It seems of late, by which I mean the past 48 hours, my finances have taken a definite shift towards a more grey-based hue. I would like to point out that it has not been by any sort of master-plan or ingenious design. But just sheer dumb luck. I will certainly not scorn this fantastic paradigm shift in my life - how often do good things just happen? But as a result, an acquaintance commented, "Lady Luck has come your way", and it made me ponder. If luck be a lady - does this mean I should become same-sex oriented to keep her around?

Fries with that?

I saw an interesting documentary last night called "Supersize Me" about one man's journey into a McDonald's based diet. It catalogued his fast degeneration of health and mood. Of the many things that I came away from it with (other than an even poorer view of the efforts of humankind today to shift fault and blame for all kinds of problems onto someone else) was the thoughts of what is the measure of a life.

One of the men in the documentary had, at last count, eaten 19 900 Big Macs - and this seemed to be the most important feat achieved in his life. Curiously, he was also incredibly proud of the fact that not only did his diet consist of Big Mac's, but that his life seemed to revolve around their acquisition. Up until this point, I suppose that I had figured that a measure of someone's life was perhaps the good deeds they had achieved, the children that they had had, or less altruistically, the money they had made. Apparently, I had got it wrong! So for the record, the Big Macs eaten by me in my lifetime: I think 2. Hmmm, on this score I shall have to improve!

Chinese, or should I say, Italian Whispers

Over a luke-warm and indifferent cup of coffee I was today recounted the story of a friend's grandfather and a recent outing. The gentlemen in question is in his nineties and I understand prides himself on his knowledge of all things in the new millenium - especially the culinary delights offered. Recently at a function he was presented with a plate of hors d'oeuvres, which more commonly these days means antipasto. (Funny how italian food and terminology has superceded the french in the past decade or so - but I digress). He cast his eye, albeit cataract-ridden and watery, over the condiments within his grasp. His granddaughter leaned in and advised him that it was indeed antipasto. He turned and commented, "This would be eye-talian then heh?". [note the pronunciation!] With an affirmative nod from his nearest and dearest, without hesitation he waved down the nearest waiter to make a subsequent request. Proud he was I am sure to show off his multicultural gastronomic knowledge as he asked the garcon, "Well, I will have some of that fellatio bread as well thanks." Err, I think you mean foccacia - but heck - I love the bakers in his part of town if that is what he is being offered for his repast these days.

Finding a good fit

I had dinner last night with N - the ex. Since our breakup a year ago we have attempted to maintain a friendship, probably since our relationship broke up due to a mutual recognition of its general lack of a future. We meet up regularly to catch up on the gossip of each others current dating woes and other trivial things. The complication has now arisen in that he has a girlfriend and she has just moved into his place. I am big enough to admit to a little bit of jealousy, but cognisant enough of the fact that I don't really want him back. To add fodder for the dramas of this attempted friendship, a couple of weeks ago, he kindly offered me sex, "should I ever feel like any". I quickly retorted, "But what about your girlfriend?". To which he shrugged his shoulders and mumbled something. Well last night, the offer was again put out there for me. Again, I enquired about his new beloved and the even more inappropriateness of his offer considering that she now shared his bed every night. He said that he is trying to "give it a go" and hoping that he will grow into it.

Now I know a lot of women who buy clothes hoping that one day they will lose the requisite 2-3 kgs for it to fit just right. I know all too well, that the weight never goes and the outfit is later considered a pre-menstrual financial mistake and mere folly. Should we ever really undertake anything hoping one day that it will fit right? Despite my small jealousies, I feel sorry for the girlfriend here. Maybe she doesn't know that she is one day destined for the relationship St Vinnie's chuck-out once it is realised that they were never meant to fit right.

Thoughts from a sick-bed

Pardon me if my thoughts are jumbled. I have had quite a few days in bed with a cold of enormous proportions. My tolerance for day-time television is at an all-time low - having been through the stage of curiosity, then on down to boredom with nothing better to watch, now I am at the level of "please stick a needle in my eye rather than inflict any more bad soapies and soap-box talkies upon me".

Nevertheless, this time at home has given me time to reflect on the happenings at one's home during those daytime hours. While sipping a warm beverage on my couch the day before yesterday, my doorbell rang - by which I mean the security buzzer telephone/intercom thing-y. Now not usually being home during the day I was curious as to who it could be. I thought maybe one of my friends, realising my state of intense boredom has decided to bugger off from work and keep me company - or some other crazy thought. But in fact, it was some woman (whose name escapes me now), wanting to tell me the truth about the bible. Through a paracetamol and pseudo-ephedrine driven haze, I believe I managed to say "not today thanks!".

This brings me to the next point..... I have filter on my email for unwanted propaganda and porn that usually finds its way into our email inboxes these days. But when I check on the filtered mail, over half of it is from companies proclaiming to help me out of debt "the Christian way". What does that mean??? Nail all my debtors to a cross??

Maybe I just need another cup of tea and a good lie down.

Cinco de Mayo..... or Maynot

I celebrated the national day of Mexico yesterday in the way all true mexicans do - I am sure. I ate large amounts of bad food - which feature cheese and avocados in vast quantities - and downed it all with mexican beer. My compatriots in this venture saw fit to celebrate with Margaritas. Question..... what do mexicans really eat for their traditional fare? Surely this dairy-laden fat-filled monstrosity that we are inflicted with is not the way of the locals - who can eat that much dairy in a hot and humid country? Seems ever so wrong in my books. Second question.... since when did the macarena become the national dance of Mexico? I am truly sorry for them as a nation. Perhaps I am way too cynical and put far too much thought into the occasion. I think one is meant to just eat, drink and dance without a thought of what the day actually represents (sort of like Christmas, New Year and all those other greeting card holidays I suppose!).