someone finally tells chavez to can it

and that someone is Juan Carlos Alfonso Víctor María de Borbón y Borbón-Dos Sicilias, otherwise known to us as Juan Carlos I.  i totally heart the king of spain. 

i think i fell for him when i was living in spain and there he was on the news, walking to his mercedes in a leather bomber jacket and jeans.  casual, not euro-trashy, not pretentious.  no corgis, stiff waves and motorcades.  not for johnny.

i mean, Franco grooms the kid to be his personal successor (after killing his grandfather and putting the family in exile) for six years before karma finally kicked in and the generalismo kicked it.  two days later, he’s king, bucks expectations and trends and starts democratic reforms.   three years later, there are elections, a new constitution and bam! spain’s part of the western world again.

so, now, what does he do to top this?  he tells hugo chavez to shove it at last week’s ibero-america summit.  chavez can be hilarious (eg. his pro-chomsky, anti-bush/satan tirade at the UN last year, going to visit “his brothers” up in harlem to promise them cheap fuel out of empathy for their struggle, etc.), but he’s really kind of worn out his welcome. 

when paling around with castro and proclaiming all sorts of things, he seemed kind of like a crazy head of state who could provide more soundbites than international incidents.  after all, the venezuelans got themselves into this one.  they were duped, too.

so, of course, chavez starts blathering about spain’s recent prime minster, apropos of not much (of course), interrupting the current spanish pm, accusing them of being fascist (hello pot?  this is the kettle). 

then:

Spanish King Juan Carlos, seated next to Zapatero, angrily turned to Chavez and said, “Why don’t you shut up?”

sigh.

right on jc!  at long last.  it certainly needed to be said.  hopefully, it will be the first of many (escalating) reprimands.

homage to catalan(ia)

y’all, life was rough on saturday.  we got up around noon and decided to suck it up get some fucking french toast.  really, tortilla and cafe, but it helped sober us up.  it was time to sight see.

we wandered over to the picasso museum and surveyed its massive line and opted for the gift shop instead.  it was way too hot to stand there and since i’d already been, cs thought we should do some more wandering and head towards sagrada familia.  what i didn’t know until that moment is that ‘wandering’ means ‘buy lots of bags’ where cs lewis comes from, which is viriginia beach in case you were wondering (holla saltdogs and navy seals).  our long, scenic and scorching hot walk was broken by the comic relief of calling home to talk to cs lewis’s mother, ma weber.  she’s a lovely woman, and quite fun to party with, but she’s out of her mind.  i literally spit water all over the sidewalk listening to just cs’s half of the conversation.  which reminds me, if you have the means, hop on down to club web in vb, it’s a great experience.  book ahead, though, that place fills up.  especially when there’s a steel drum band scheduled for the weekend.

i digress.  in an unbelievable turn of events, there was no line to get into the cathedral, so we gladly pay the 8 euro to go inside.  i was pleased to see cs was as blown away as i am by this sublime monument and we took our time soaking in the beauty and divinity.  it truly is amazing.  i was also impressed by how much had been done in the ten years since i was first blessed by the sight of it.  putting it into context, it was started in 1883, so that much progress in a single decade was remarkable.  i can’t wait to attend a sunday service there one day, and have hope and faith i will have the opportunity in my lifetime.

we walked back by heading down calle mallorca towards casa mila or la pedrera, where the line equalled that of picassos museum.  knowing we had time tomorrow, we opted to come back and enjoy a stroll down la passeig de gracia. 

we hooked a left at plaza catalunya and headed back to the hostel, where my duty as the “official arbiter of cs’s spending habits on souvenirs” was put to its strongest test yet.

we relaxed, showered, and headed to bar gaudi for dinner, which is located two doors from our hostel.  knowing cs and me, going somewhere so close is shocking, absolutely shocking, but it’s true. 

the reason this is relevant is because the guy that stands outside and solicits patrons had been trying to get us to eat there for the last 36 hours.  he was pleased to lead us to a table where we enjoyed an amazing dinner, as well as the company of our waiter, tomate (i’ll explain later) who was quite taken with my face and language abilities.  i was too taken with my artichokes from the oven to notice, so his asking me out later went totally unnoticed.  i’m spastic, yes, but i blame this stupidity on these artichokes.  i was seriously picturing me in a wedding dress and las alcochofas in a tux and cummerbun.

leaving, we told the guy outside that it was great and i said “si podria casarme con las alcochofas, lo hare.”  it took me at least a half hour to put the subjunctive for that together correctly.  instead of applause at my proper tenses, he said “que bueno.  me llamo alcochofa.  do you want to be married and live here or in new york.”  he then told us he got off at two.

we smiled and wandered off for another pub crawl, which ended you’llneverguesswhere: the temple bar.  the scene of last night’s crime.  or the inception and planning of the crime, anyway.  we didn’t return in the hopes of meeting up with johhny b good’s stag do, so we weren’t disappointed to not see them there.  in short order, cs was chatting up a pack of scots and i was talking to maurizio (a venetian phd student in town to study) and david (tall, dark, handsome, catalan).  love. at. first. sight.

we were contentedly talking to our prospective prospects when the next thing i know, plan b is back and dressed like a school boy.  following closely behind was the rest of the crew in identical ensembles, replete with johnny in full harry potter costumes.  hilarious.  i didn’t see rio grande at first, which was fine, because david was a piece of pixie dust combined with a dream and i was happy as a clam where i was.  eventually, cs got folded into the stag do once again, but i resisted, excepting a brief interaction with justin timberlake junior (where was that guy last night???).  i finally noticed rio, who was squarely ignoring me (boo! bad form!).  we made eye contact later, i waved, he mouthed that he was really drunk and that was pretty much that.

after a few more hours of this, cs’s new paramour had talked her into going to port olympic and the disco baja beach with the whole do.  when they were throwing us out at last call, she was in the street yelling past the bouncer, “come on, come on, we’re going to the disco.”  i asked david if he and maurizio would come with and he said he’d love to, but we had to wait until m came back from los aseos.  i waved off cs lewis and waited.  when m came back, david disappeared.  I was like “what the? i thought you guys were coming with?”  m said yes, they would come.  i told him where we were going and to meet us there since i had to go out to cs before she popped an anuerysm.  they had my card and email, so we were insured.

 i got into one of the cabs and headed down to port olympic with the rest.  once there, i realized i’d been before and we didn’t have to pay the 18 euro cover to get in.  all we had to do was go downstairs to the beach level and grab an outside table at the disco, no cover at all.  only darren had the sense to listen to me and we scored a large table right by the doors to wait for the rest to figure it out.  eventually, herbs, jt jr, johnny, rio and plan b caught on and came to sit down.  we ordered a round, which i paid for (what the?) and still rio did not acknowledge me.  not a thanks, nothing.  i really didn’t want to be there, and was already cursing my seperation from david, so when they got up to go to the strip club down the way and asked me to join them, i begged off.  i was ready for home.  i found cs inside (still didn’t pay) and she was still chatting up the same guy.  i told her i was off and would see her later.

i got into a cab upstairs when i realized i had exactly 8 euro to my name and no idea how far i was from las ramblas, which means i had no idea how far i was going to have to trudge home.  the cabbie agreed to take me as far as the 8 would get me, which was exactly to my street, thank you jesus, st. george and the traffic-less streets of late night barcelona.

cs got home later with the guy (tim, i believe), who’d been chatting her up the whole time and planting soft, tongueless kisses on her all night.  when she asked what his hesitation was he replied “because i have a girlfriend.”  zunh.  i mean, zunh?

apparently, he kept chatting her up after that, took her home, and then asked if he could come up.  what the?  is this pretty woman?  what the fuck?

anyway, i was gutted about losing david and maurizio, but pretty annoyed by rio as well.  i didn’t go there to see him, and didn’t expect him to chat me up (though he did look disturbingly hot in his uniform) or not go home with a different girl, but some manners, please. 

luckily, david has my email.  fingers crossed.  i’ve already constructed a whirlwind trans-atlantic IM-based romance in my mind and i don’t mind telling you it’s fantastico. sigh.

turns out the world isn’t watching

i got through security at laguardia pretty quickly this morning and headed to gate 4 for my 9:48 flight to the cleve for another day of marathon meetings.  i grabbed a couple of bananas and water at au bon pain and settled into my seat at the gate.i looked around and noticed that it wasn’t overly crowded, which isn’t exceptional, but i did see a rather large family traveling together- about 8 to 10 people in all, clearly muslim and clearly traditional.  now, i know what you might be thinking, but that isn’t where this going. 

also at the gate?  a soccer mom-esque forty-something with her yappy, yippy lap dog.  she laid a diaper and a toy or two on the floor, put her doggy down and held the leash down with her foot to keep the dog nearby. 

now, gate 4 in the continental terminal is not that big, not that that fact should have given license to soccermom to be so oblivious.  her dog was roaming about as dogs do- exploring, sniffing, nipping.  now, i don’t like lapdogs much, but this is nothing you can fault the dog for; it’s what they do. 

what can be faulted here is that this was making the family very, very uncomfortable.  a couple of the younger women quickly got up and moved as far away as possible within the confines of the gate, while the father sat quietly, if warily, across from me.  seeing that soccermom (let’s just shorten that to “sm.”) was not taking note of the fact that her dog was causing several people genuine distress, i clicked my tongue and snapped my fingers and called the dog over to me before she could reach dad.

i leaned over and got sm’s attention, hoping she’d raise her head and take some heed of her charge, and asked the puppy’s name.  “aria” she replied.  “very cute” i said and petted her white, nappy head.

now, i love dogs, but not yippy little poodles, and certainly not before i’ve had a cup of coffee.  but i was uncomfortable and facing a ridiculous dilemma.  does sm not know that letting aria roam about is inappropriate regardless of the deep religious objection of several of her fellow passengers?  do i stay out of it as it’s none of my business?  is it really not a big deal and i’m being overly culturally sensitive? 

not wanting to be a condescending jerk and assume that sm is ignorant and needs to have the situation explained to her and convinced that the family was sincerely uncomfortable, i encouraged aria to keep chewing on my laptop.  after a couple of minutes more, i leaned over to sm and said “excuse me.  i’m not sure if you know this, but dogs make muslims uncomfortable and there are several people in this gate that would probably appreciate it greatly if you kept aria a little closer to you.” 

she said “whaaaat?”  i replied “yes, in islam dogs are considered very unclean, somewhat like pigs in judiasm and your dog is making some people very uncomfortable.  i’m not sure where you’re sitting or if it matters, but it might be a good idea to rein in the leash a bit out of courtesy.” 

sm “oh, yes.  i had no idea.  thank you.”

a beat.

she puts her head back down, goes back to the paper and does nothing about anything.  i saw aria approaching the man across from me yet again, so i hooked her collar and pulled her over to me.  the man said to me “i’m sorry, but in my religion….”  i said “i know, i’m sorry.”  he said ” i saw you trying to have a conversation.” i said “yes, i understand how you feel and i tried to explain.  i’m sorry.  i’ll do what i can to keep her over here.”  he nodded and said “thank you,” both of us completely uncomfortable and neither of us sure why we felt weird for a situation that was neither of our doing.

finally, boarding was called and “mommy” gathered her baby up to board.

i’m no cultural guru and i’ve never read the koran.  but i know that dogs are anathema to islam.  i grew up with several muslims, but didn’t know this until the disgrace that was abu ghraib.  wasn’t everyone, regardless of their hawk-like outward disposition, at least fleetingly, momentarily, humanely and humanly embarassed by the events and photos that came of that iraqi prison?  even for a second?  did that not command attention, even away from britney (sp??) and k-fed’s divorce, or whatever other sensational nonsense was absorbing the lion’s share of the nation’s consciousness at the time? 

i hate being embarassed by my nationality.  liberal guilt is patronizing and ignorant.  but this hit something home: a lot of people are ignorant, selfish assholes. 

i like to think that’s a universal trait, rather than an arena in which america corners the market.  and deep down i know that to be so.  but some days it’s hard. really, really hard to believe. 

Protected: names have been changed to protect the clinically insane

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the digital divide; fellas, listen up!

Boys, this one’s on the house. 

I’m going to give you a little insight into something that drives a majority of ladies, chicks, broads, skirts, girls, women, females crazy.  It actually makes the top of most deal-breaker lists.  A complete and total turn off.

wut is it? u ask. wut could b so bad as 2 make girlz want 2 puke on ur faces?

Text speak, aol-speak, whatever you want to call it.  It’s disgusting. 

Inane abbreviations and mispellings appropriate ONLY for twelve year old kids with ADD who never knew better.  You save a couple of key strokes on your computer or hits to the entry pad on your cell phone, but you’re losing an inestimable amount of stock points.  It’s the single most emasculating thing a man can do to himself.

I’m all for parsimony, and I know we’re all busy, but trust me, the extra second you’ve saved yourself is not worth the hits your manhood is taking.

No, I’m not exaggerating.  I know many girls that will immediately write off a guy who texts or IMs her in this manner, or WORSE, emails this way.  It may seem shallow, but consider it.  We’re looking for men.  MEN.  Not little boys.  And not idiots.  It makes you seem illiterate, unintelligent, ineloquent, delinquent, remedial, and to some, like you can’t take two seconds to try and impress a lady.

So, take the time to actually spell out words, as close to the actual spelling as you can manage.  The T9 or word setting on your phone is there to help you; it’s your friend.  It helps you speed up your typing AND is like a little spell-check angel.  It will also remember non-standard words that you use often (like the way Silvija’s name is spelled, or the name of a favorite bar, or even shit, tits, boobs, whatever you like to write).  Email has spell check.  With IM, you’re on your own, but most people are forgiving, as long as you make the effort.

I’ll break it down for you, to make it real easy like:

1.  Turn on the T9/ word function on your phone.  It’s there to help you.

2.  Do not write LOL, LMAO, TTYL or some such inanity under any circumstances.

3.  Do not write in ALL CAPS.  IT LOOKS LIKE YOU’RE YELLING AT US.

4.  Do not insert smiley faces to punctuate.  Indicate that you are kidding some other way. (ha ha, heh, etc. are acceptable).

5.  Do not insert numbers into words to spell them out (gr8, l8r, etc.  Who are you, Avril Lavigne?).

6.  Do use whole words.  It indicates you can think. 

7.  Do use punctuation.  It indicates that you care about what you’re saying.

Now, I will admit that there are some ladies who don’t actually mind the abbreviations of the modern texting age and use them themselves.  Of course, if you happen to be conversing with such a lady, it is totally appropriate to “speak” in kind.

8.  However, IT IS NEVER OK TO EMAIL this way. 

9.  Err on the side of caution.  Most ladies feel this way, so unless you’ve seen your potential girl* use such language, don’t do it.  Better safe than sorry.

I mean, hey, it’s not like we’re expecting you to learn the difference between their, they’re and there or it, it’s and its or to, too and two or even your and you’re.  Though, you can really impress a lady (and your parents and co-workers) by mastering these few tricks.

You always say you don’t know what women want.  Well, I’m here to tell you.  It may hurt your feelings, but nut up!  It’s for your own good. 

*of whatever variety- this can even kill a sex-only relationship as it can bare a direct relationship to the degree of attraction a lady has for her male companion.