ES LA HORA
Here are the first few lines of a piece I'm working on:
"There are two types of people:
Those who have time to 'hang out.'
And those of us who hate them."
The Amazing Race is on tonight. They are still in India, in Jaipur. Among other things, contestants have had to locate a certain chai stall, put the chai on a cart, push the cart until they could find a specific government buliding, and serve one tea at a time (in the old fashioned clay cups) to a list of functionaries who are spread here, there, and everywhere, and whose job seems to consist of waiting for the next chai (well, whose isn't, really). It was the perfect challenge for India. Last week the "older couple" was making their way to the end of that day's race via auto-rickshaw (the man, Meredith, is usually pretty easygoing but had a *spectacular* Larry David moment at one point -- at which we all took a drink as we watched it over and over again). Anyway a couple of boys turned around and waved to them, then put their arms around each other. "Ooooo-ooo-oooo," sang Kvetchen. "I think our friends are gaaaay-ay!"
While we're on the subject of TV -- Henry scored the new Family Guy episode (a week ahead of the rest of 'Merica; it premieres next Sunday). I'm here to tell you it is as scathing and shocking and guffaw-inducing as ever, if not moreso. Fox: the folks who give you right-wing talk shows and two of the best sit-coms in TV history (the other being the Simpsons of course). Filthy whores.
We also caught an episode of What Not to Wear, in which Susanna (as usual) finds herself busily kneading a woman's knockers, or tits as they call them there (whenever they say "tits" or "nits" or feel someone up, you must take a drink). She was in the midst of a full-frontal squeeze when Trini (the "thin one") circled her and then, much like a cat (and just as quick) her right arm flew out and slapped the woman's left breast. It happened so fast we almost missed it. It was indeed the same movement my cat does when I walk by and he's annoyed and takes a swipe at me, and I'm not sure if he really did it and walk by again just to see if I was right in thinking he had. And thanks to TiVo we were able to watch Trini paw the woman a dozen times before the wine ran out / laughter died down.
Today some neighbour took it upon themself to move my clothes from the washer to the dryer. Normally the practice is to leave them where they are or put the clothes *on* the dryer. Which is a good thing, since most of my too-young-for-me outfits need to be drip-dried. But not these neighbours. They put my clothes *IN* the dryer. ON HIGH. And now I am the owner of two Barbie-sized vintage white long-sleeve t-shirts which I can no longer wear (Fashion Targets Breast Cancer, circa 1996, and Boss Hog's 2000 "Whiteout" tour, if you must know). And the nabes are the recipients of a snippy little note.
So much for non-attachment.