Update:


1. The below Asshat has changed his facebook profile picture. I'm really proud of myself right now. Changing the world, one facebook profile at a time

2. I'm running low on nasal spray

KK.

......Sometimes I Just have to Shake My Head....

So there's this guy on Facebook who felt the need to add me because we share the same last name. In his facebook picture, he is wearing military fatigues, a belle-clave and holding a VERY large automatic weapon.

........Sorry Mother but I couldn't keep my mouth shut.....

My response:

Hello there,

Look, I'm not going to lie to you... Your picture makes me sick. You're perpetuating a violent stereotype about the Irish and the IRA militia that actually makes life harder for us Irish all over the world.

I'm proud of where I came from, and I am a proud catholic. But you are not representative of my Ireland, nor of my catholicism.

Sinn Feinn (the political faction) have been making headway in a diplomatic reach towards peace, and your blatant affinity for fatigue and weaponry on a social networking site that has millions of young and impressionable people is one of the obstacles that makes it difficult for them to do their job.

Most people would have a problem saying what I'm saying to you, since you obviously feel quite at home cuddling up to a rather large gun. However, I wouldn't be Irish if I didn't speak up... and I most certainly wouldn't be a good catholic.

I hope that the cold metal of your gun shaft keeps you warm at night.

KK.

Man Friend pt 2: The Perfect Way to Say Good-Bye

As explained in 'Man Friend pt. 1: Things Your Man Friend Should Never Say,' (which you probably haven't read because of the close proximity of the postings....I recommend skipping down and reading first), Man Friend and I have a limited time together. Even more limited because I've made plans with other people for the next few weekends, so this was (is) our last weekend of totally hanging out.

I'm currently fighting Malaria (OK, not Malaria, but it's some sort of brutal respiratory tract infection that is KILLING ME....or just making me cough really really badly), and my boss, who is a doctor mentions that some time in the Alps might do me some good. Yes, that's right folks, my prescription was Mountain Air. What am I? Freaking Heidi? Anyways, so I invite Man Friend along. Basically, I invite him to plan the whole trip since he knows his way around WAY better. He does, and we plan to go on Saturday at like 6 am. But I'm sick, so he lets me sleep in, and we meet up for the 8 am train (To my North American peeps.... Swiss timing is INSANE. 6 am seems like a totally natural hour to these people. Man Friend is not Swiss but he has been socialized accordingly). Letting me sleep in pretty much makes you my hero any day of the week.

So, we get there a few hours later, grab the bus up the mountain, then grab a gondola a little bit farther and then we start to hike. So, fresh mountain air may very well be good for the respiratory tract, but do you know what is NOT? HIKING UP 2000 METERS TO THE FRESH MOUNTAIN AIR. I almost died, and I am NOT that out of shape (please see previous post and apply this to there as well).

So after going into a major hyperventilation state, Man Friend suggests that we take it easy and just hang out around there for a while. I concur. We find a lovely little stream of glacial water running down in the middle of the greenest field that I have ever seen, with jagged snow topped peaks surrounding us on all sides. It was mystifying, and breathtaking (if I had any), and awe inspiring. The scene is what the person who coined the term: 'awesome'* must have felt.

We spread out under the sun and the blue cloudless sky and just relaxed, and napped. Yes people, today I napped in the swiss Alps... How was your Saturday?

I woke up to Man Friend in the stream, playing with rocks. I didn't pay much attention, because really...... I don't care.

Then he says "catch" and he throws me a totally flat rock that he has shaped into a heart.

It was the perfect gesture for our situation and our time together. No long drawn out admissions or stereos under a window, just a simple: here's a rock.... I cared enough to do this for you.

It's exactly what I needed.

During my time with Man Friend, I have often felt like we were together in another life, and today, I felt like I was getting a chance to say Good-bye to him the way that I had been deprived of in the past. Such a weird and New Age feeling which is so NOT me, but I had the feeling none the less, and if it's true, I'm grateful for the perfect good-bye that I never had. And if it's not: I'm grateful for the perfect Good-bye that I had just had at that moment.

A few hours later we went down the mountain to grab a beer.... at which point, the story is completed in the preceding post, and he ruined my perfect good-bye. Hence my desire to keep the two memories separate.

I'm still annoyed that he ruined it.

KK.

P.S. Mountain Air does help.... it's the getting up and down that SUCKS.

*awesome in the biblical sense, not the 'hey dude' sense.

Man Friend pt 1: Things Your Man Friend should Never Do

I'm going to write this post in two parts, simply because I want to remember the two events totally separately. I've had this Man Friend for a great many months (great many months to me, may not be the same as great many months to you). We live in the same European city, and he is about 13 years older than I am.
For those of you that don't know, a Man Friend is different than a Boy Friend. We spend boat loads of time together and really enjoy each others company, but for whatever reason, a parting is inevitable and therefore exclusivity is ruled out of the equation. I feel that I'm making my Man Friend seem a tad more mature than he really is, and he'd admit that openly.
He's definitely an 18 year old at heart, and sometimes dress.

As a disclaimer, I care for him very deeply, in a way that one can only care for a Man Friend. The typical sentiments and grading of feelings do not apply because there is no progression in the relationship. It's just assumed that the old adage: "a different time, a different place" applies to your situation.

No, he's not married. But, I am leaving Europe in about 30 days, and this city in 15, so our time is, and has always been limited.

Now, I'm going to start with the annoying part of my day with Man Friend, because I'd like to only remember the good part, therefore I'll write that last (we ALL know that this wont work).

So, here goes:

Things your Man Friend should NEVER say...EVER:

1. "Wow THAT girl is too skinny, I don't like chicks that are too skinny..." (he says while looking at you slightly adoringly........ the skinny chick you ask? She's also PREGNANT)

2. "I have this friend that is dating an overly attractive girl.... and he's always wondering when she's going to trade up. That's why I don't date overly attractive girls" (7 months dude. 7 months. Honestly, I suppose dating isn't the right term for our involvement, but oh wait... YA it probably is unless you want to get all technical. It's just never going beyond dating...asshat!)

3. "Here, you get in the picture with those two cows, and now it will be three cows" (This was a funny joke when the above two hadn't been said yet)

4. "I can't understand why you're annoyed"

5. ..........I'm sure there was more, I just stopped listening after this.........



The end.

KK.

The Good and The Bad

Good news: I've lost 5 pounds from being sick this week, and I'm starting to feel better (just in time for my hike in the mountains with my Man friend.)

Bad news: I may have a slight addiction to nasal spray.

Obama Has Done It!

He did it. He finally did it. He won me over. At least his speech writer did, but his deliverance was charismatic and eloquent in a way that not many people can deliver.

I've often talked about his lack of experience, but his ideas are fresh, and we can't discount the combined years of experience of his advisers. I like him. I have to say it: I like him a lot. And, I would be proud to have him as the next president of the United States. Of course, I'm Canadian so it's not really something that I can be proud of per say...but still.*

I can't even do his speech justice, which fell on the 45th anniversary of Martin Luther King's speech... the one involving a dream, heard of it? If you haven't seen his speech, I strongly recommend Youtubing it. He had the class and character about himself, his party and even his opponent that inspires me.

That being said, I received a little comment the other day regarding my last uber American political post that I would like to address. Before all is said, I have to say that the writer is a personal friend of mine. I have nothing but the utmost respect for him, and I find his perspective as a black man refreshing in my white washed life, in which we are both immigrants to a new nation. However, if you don't know him, and you read his comment, it might seem like he's an asshat. So let's address that.

This is the comment:

Well... first I have to say, that I agree... there are way too many people being phony/fake in this real-ass world... and to be honest, I have no time for them, except for “hello!!!” and more importantly “BYE!!!!!!”
Yet... as a black man and closet feminist (though I'm working my way out) I have to comment on Barack & Hillary (for that matter)... The 'White Man’s House' as I like to call it has very little to do with actual politics (politics meaning what it should and not what it is) but more to do with big brother and a high price fashion show and/or popularity contest.... It's has been that way since the fuckers wrote the constitution... And those with "real politics" who have an actual opinion and express it, they get shot and "6 feet under" real quick like... (ie. Kennedy and M. King....)

what’s my point??? Am I another fanatic just talking shit????... (maybe...) but there is something to people voting strictly because it's a woman or a black man... I wanted to see either of them in the WHITE MAN’s HOUSE because it's never been that way before... and it’s because of the bullshit people/aliens (heh) behind the scenes, also the same shit we all seem to except, because it’s in the paper or on the news.
So... since its always been a white man in THE WHITE MANs HOUSE regardless of politics... why not blindly vote for a white woman or black man, we have been doing the same for white men all of our lives... So if that “black man” is talking about going to war (which always happens) or that “white woman” is talking cheaper taxes (which never happens) WTF!!!! They have all just been puppets, that don’t mean anything they say anyways…..
So…. To conclude…. What is my end point??? Maybe if your Irish ass ever dates a black man or white woman (lovezzzz it), maybe give them a chance….. They might just have something behind that useless thought….


1. There is nothing closet feminist about you, Random (if, in fact that is your real name...) You're full out feminist. Learn it, Love it, Deal with it.

2. Uhhh The White House has nothing to do with politics? Hmm.... Let's take a quick second and google the term, shall we?

pol·i·tics

1.	the science or art of political government.

2.	the practice or profession of conducting political affairs.

3.	political affairs: The advocated reforms have become embroiled in politics.

4.	political methods or maneuvers: We could not approve of his politics in winning passage of the bill.

5.	political principles or opinions: We avoided discussion of religion and politics. His politics are his own affair.

6.	use of intrigue or strategy in obtaining any position of power or control, as in business, university, etc.

7.	(initial capital letter, italics) a treatise (4th century b.c.) by Aristotle, dealing with the structure, organization, and administration of the state, esp. the city-state as known in ancient Greece.

Perhaps not number 7 or 5, but the White House most certainly stands for numbers 1-4, and 6. Hmmm... seems cohesive to me. Perhaps you mean transparency in politics. And if so, then I agree with you. This is what I often say intrigues me about African politics, the blatant transparency. Every country has the politics you see and the politics that you don't. In Africa, I find that they don't really care if what you see is decrepit and corrupt... and they don't do too much to hide it. Whereas, in the states and Canada, we're big fans of acting diplomatic and then sending unmarked snipers into a country. Or, trading their votes on one important issue for assurance that their own legislation will see the light of day. Sneaky Sneaky, but that's why politics are interesting; they aren't always pretty.


3. Ummmm Kennedy was NOT about real politics, at least not the way you describe it. He was from the most high priced political families, and he used his office to have an affair with Marylin Monroe. We idolize him because he was shot. Not saying he wasn't a very nice chap, but seriously... can someone tell me what it was that he did? (His wife also influenced fashion for decades...see every fashion line of Chanel....you brought up fashion, not me... )And M. King was a civil rights leader... not a politician, although he did influence political decisions for decades...


4. Are you suggesting that voting for someone based on gender or color is the best way to go, because really in the end it doesn't mean anything anyways because you're a giant conspiracy theorist and you think that they aren't the ones in charge in the first place? Interesting, Random, interesting. I'm still a big fan of voting on the issues, although I have been known to throw down the strategic vote if I'm not a fan of any of the proposed responses to the issues. However, I think that comedic GENIUS Tina Fey summed it up best on this point when she said: "Isn't it great that we have come so far since the feminist movement, and gaining the right to vote that we don't feel that we have to vote for someone simply because she's a woman? Instead, we vote for who Oprah tells us to (Obama)."

5. Ummm I never said that I thought anyone had a useless thought. I was ALL about Hillary and now, in the wake of hers' and Bills' urging, and Obama's amazing speech, I am ALL about Obama. CHANGE!!! And I have dated a black man, and a brown man... take THAT, I'm like the freaking United Nations of Ex-boyfriends.

In conclusion, you are not an asshat, Random. Instead, you are a bitter and jaded individual, but that aside, and more importantly, you are right. A lot of people feel the same way as you do. So let's shake things up America.... VOTE OBAMA!

(If he gets in, I think he should have a congratulatory BBQ at the White House...)

*CNN's 'the campaign trail' has the BEST commercial about how their special correspondent knows American politics like only a Canadian can. I love it.

A Cynics Guide to Fairy Tales.

Late late last night, while I was coughing up a lung, I had the great pleasure of talking to a friend of mine, an ocean away for about 3 hours straight. He entertained me and we did a crossword together while I coughed in his ear.** I was/am seriously drugged up (read: two cough suppressants, nasal spray and some kind of potent version f neo citron). So, there we are doing a cross word puzzle, and one of the answers is: Hansel and Gretel. I immediately went off on a tangent about what could be expected if Hansel and his sister were in the modern day... and this is what resulted:

Once upon a time, there were a brother and sister named Hansel and Gretel. They hailed from a typical suburban home, where they lived with their father, their step mother and their dog: skip. Their mother had died very early in life, and their father had remarried when they were 12, and adolescent hormones were in abundance.
Truth be told, their Stepmother was a fair and decent person, however, they wreaked havoc on her because she was their Fathers' backbone. If you had asked her, or anyone else for that matter, she had come in just when she needed to. The kids were god awful spoiled, as their father was so distraught by the death of his wife, that he gave them virtually everything and anything that they asked for. I mean really, what does a 12 year old need with a Ducati anyways? Their new Stepmother intervened and made it her sole mission to ensure that they became well balanced and proactive members of society, instead of little spoiled leaches that were about to put their middle classed father into either a substance abuse program or a welfare program (and as we all know in not so PC ways, the two are not always mutually exclusive).
Of course, Hansel and Gretel rebelled. At 14 and 15 they complained daily to their friends at school about the new instituted measures, such as locks on the alcohol cupboards and the rules about no high powered machinery until fully licensed to use said machinery. Their friends consoled them, sometimes even sneaking a Mickey of vodka to their high-priced high school. By 16 and 17, they had learned the art of sneaking out of their suburban neighbourhood under the pretence of studying for a final, even in September.
Next thing their proud father and slightly exhausted and now nervous Stepmother knew, they were off to college. Their Stepmother was relieved when they chose to go to a school across state lines (oh they are SO American). Sure, she had "encouraged" them to seek adventure, and sure, she had mentioned that "adventures" were only really "adventures" if they were more that 50 miles away, but in the end; they had made the choice themselves. Both father and Stepmother stood waving goodbye at the end of the drive way, Father recounting their younger years and the fine specimens that they had grown into. Step Mother relieved and excited about having her husband all to herself for the first time... EVER (Yes, a tad selfish she would admit to herself, but most women got to spend a few years with the man they loved so desperately before they embarked on a family, and she was happy to go backwards for him, but she was happy that her time was now).
Once at the dormitories, Hansel and Gretel got acquainted with everyone over a 26er of rum, which they had swiped from the liquor cabinet (at 16 Hansel had a copy of the key cut). Soon enough it was all bright lights and keg parties. Hansel became the ladies man of his dormitory and every other dormitory. Soon enough, he realized that dating college girls is expensive, what with all the 2-dollar shots nights a week, and a whole 7 days in a week. So, he took up a side job selling pot.
Gretel was recruited to the Nu Psi Gammas and began to test out her new found freedom and womanly nature with the frat boys.
One day the two were invited to a Keg party. They drove the old Mercedes to the party. They had wanted a new matching set of Beamers for their graduation but their step mother insisted, in her horrible mean way that they should not be given such an "extravagant" gift for merely passing high school, and they were promised it for college graduation instead. They both took the stance that to deprive them of vehicular luxury and style for four years was one of her worst abominations as a Stepmother. Gretel joked to Hansel: "Well, at least we'll be able to find our way back, what with the OIL leaking out the back of the car." Hansel laughed and responded by calling their stepmother a bitch. They both laughed together. It was true, the car DID leak oil, but only because they had used the money their stepmother had given them for Hansel's start up pot business. However, it came so natural for them to blame this on her 'No New Beamer Snafu' of 4 months earlier.
Once at the party, they skipped the entrance fee due to the infatuation of Gretel by the Frat boy/Door man. At the tender age of 17, free entrance, and ensuing free kegged beer, of this was the equivalent of coming upon a candied house with the hungry eyes of a 6 year old.
The party went well, at least until Gretel hit her head on the chandelier while dancing on the table and Hansel threw up on the feet of the president of the fraternity. He was quickly surrounded by 3 large men. However, instead of apologizing, he saw this as an opportune moment to mouth off. The immediately threw him on the front lawn, and locked the door. In a huff, he txt messaged his sister to say he was leaving her there with her 'new friends.' And that he did.
Later that night, when his father called to check in, he told him that he had left Gretel at a party. Once off the phone, the Stepmother insisted that their father drive up and make sure everything was all right. She wasn't their mother, but she still had a gut instinct. After about 10 minutes of his excusing the party as "good clean fun," he finally agreed to go if it would make her happy.
Once at the party, their Father walked in, only to find his daughter. Gretel was unconscious and wreaking of booze in a bedroom with a snivelling little 20 year old boy, lurking over her, about to do god knows what.*** He slung her over his shoulder and took her to the hospital where she had to have her stomach pumped. When she woke up, her eyes swelled and she whispered "Daddy..." and his heart melted.
Years later, and after several similar incidents throughout Gretel’s college career (and I say Gretel, because Hansel was kicked out after the first year for selling pot and failing all of his classes), and Hansel’s countless retail and bar jobs; rehab; falling off the wagon; and rehab again, Gretel wrote a book. She wrote a tell all, best selling book about her life, her riches to rags life, in which she vilified her step mother to the point of social humiliation so great, that Oprah called for her side of the story. Of course, no one would ever believe her side of the story, except her husband who lived in his happy little naive bubble and felt that it was a harmless claim that had at least given Gretel some sort of career. He died of cancer later that year. Hansel and Gretel tried to ban their stepmother of 20 years form the funeral, but to no avail. However, they did sit across the aisle and stare at her the whole time that they were supposed to be, and she was sincerely grieving, whispering "gold digger" under their breath.
Her reputation was in shambles. The love of her life was dead and gone, and the kids that she had helped raise hated her. Finally, she got wise, and when the will left her with a great chunk of money, she decided to give Gretel the sequel to her book, on a silver platter. She took her money, changed her name and moved to the Cayman islands to live her life out in peace and quiet.
Sure enough, Gretel's second book made the best sellers list within weeks.




** This is no normal sickness. It's the stuffy nose, hacking cough, tissue up your nose for hours, neo citron is my new water type of sickness.
*** Totally untrue, we all know what he was about to do.



KK.