January 11, 2001 (#29), (and before ...)

Howdy my little chickens,

Come state?

I do apologize about the absence, but I suspect you must be used to it by now. "Oh that Trudy, always so busy. Well I just need rollerskates to keep up with her."

Yes, well... as long as it's not a Razor.

Maybe not so busy as preoccupied. For those interested in my meager itinerary, after Iceland and up to the present, there was Puerto Vallarta, Jordan, Provence, the Carribbean, Arkansas, and Los Angeles. If you really have on topic questions, do ask, but otherwise can you really stand another long drawn out saga involving a rather dashing Jordanian and a rendezvous at the High Place of Sacrifice in Petra? Poor Abattoir, I told him to keep up on the stairmaster, but he missed all the fun. Certainly I can't live it all over again without dire repercussions. I do get so worked up.

However my plump roasted game hens, I do want to talk about the spirit of reconciliation that seems to have been foisted upon us.

Actually, I don't want to talk about that at all. In fact, I'd rather not go anywhere near it. In further fact, I might have to banish it from my house. Good gracious you silly nincompoop, if you want me to follow you, then you'd better lead me in a direction that at least seems mildly interesting and/or intelligent.

And there's the rub my butterballs.

A president-adjudicated not necessarily to my intelligence standards who can't even mix a proper sazerac from want of practice. Perhaps those around him can stun me with kir royale, monkey glands, rusty nails and so on, but I don't really want a drink from the regular hooch hounds at the bar, I ordered it from the barkeep and I fear he's going to try and serve me chardonnay.

Lovely effort, but my chattering quails truffé it's just not what I asked for and I'm getting a little cranky.

On a completely different note, this overheard in Chelsea:

"I cut my penis shaving."

Indeed, something to ponder, my magrets, in this new era of whatever. Obviously the stress of personal hygiene just got to be too much and overcame this young man's sense of personal safety. Here's to healing.

Shall we switch gears one last time shiny peking ducks?

I've been attempting to better myself. I've gone back to school.

No, I haven't taken up vocal music, though I understand some of you may have thought I would. No my sweet peeps, I've gone to take Italian.

If you have to ask why...

But I have learned a very riveting fact. Some people are just too stupid to learn another language. It seems to mostly hit people who insist upon tying their hair up on top of their head, like my dear friend Bithia who I wouldn't ever say a word against, and really all that is missing is the bone.

The poor subject of my ire (most certainly not Bithia who I think has no natal tongue) ...learned only one word during the entire semester -- telefonino. Tragique.

Here we were learning useful words like "to want", "to desire", "to need", "to beg", "to genuflect" (or at least to get down on your knee), "to supplicate", "to command", "to dominate", "to bark"... and this charmingly simple child can now, after 12 classes, recite in halting Italian, "I have a cell phone." And she's planning a trip to Italy. She certainly will be popular, at least initally, but after they get ahold of her Nokia, she'll fall apart completely like an overcooked gnocco.

I cut my penis shaving. If only I knew how to say "to shave..." Perhaps next semester.

Make sure to rinse your razors,
Trudy