Window Boys
It's Friday - I've had a long week. Too much work and tired as heck. The morning seems to be dragging on for ever...
It's cold and grey and Belgium -ish. Just dreary.
What could possibly perk me up today?
The Window Boys! The Window Boys are here!!!
2 rather handsome, young Belgian guys who climb all over my office to clean my windows. For a few minutes, these guys work in tandem, up and down and around my huge office window. It's like watching a Chippendales routine (fully clothed sadly). A breath of energy and fresh air. A whish of nicely fitting blue jeans and buff bodies. A whirlwind of man, men! And they are so totally nice.
At the risk of sounding like a Diet Coke commercial - yum ee
A few winks and smiles and the cuties are gone.
They missed a teeny weeny spot on the glass (or two), but honestly, I think they might be the very best window cleaners in the entire whole wide world, really.
6 days and Counting
In 6 days, there will be a new President of the United States (POTUS). I literally cannot wait. I have spoken with fellow Democrats over here and we are all arguing about which venue we should attend on election night. I know we won't get in to any of them though - people are predicting double and treble capacity crowds at each site. For the Primaries, a friend stood in line at a hotel event for over 2 hours just to get to the coat room.
This election has people so excited and fired-up - I even know a Canadian guy who's been to all of the Democrats Abroad events over here. You know it's hot if you get a Canuck interested.
Although I can't wait for election night, I am enjoying watching the slow and dramatic car crash that is the McCain campaign. It's like the back hallways in a Shakespeare tragedy - back-stabbing, lies, murder, deceit, treachery. And oh, of course lunacy (Palin). Not pretty, but like a car crash, irresistible. Seeing a car crash, I usually look away from the gory bits. I can't help but devour every bit of the Republican mess on display.
Leaders of the low-brow, ignoramus set - the Rush Limbaugh's of this world, are frantic about losing face with their lucrative fan bases. They are desperately trying to discredit Obama with thinly veiled racist and derogatory remarks in an effort to entice more voters to ignore facts and policies and vote from their irrational, scared and bigoted bellies. 'That's how to win folks!!' Remember, they don't want a terrorist as president - especially one who is a Muslim, or an AyRAB. Their mission is to relate Obama to a terrorist gangsta and to make Sarah Palin out to be a competent woman. Both very hard to do.
It must be really embarrassing to Republicans because McCain can't pick a stable hard-line message/or tag line and stick to it. Every day there's another new and very weak allegation about Obama which makes McCain look disorganised, discombobulated and - well, like an old fuddy-duddy. It looks like McCain is playing 'Pin the tail on the Donkey'- blindfold and all. He really should target the biggest ass of all - his running mate - who is throwing him under the bus for mis managing her 'roll out'. ha ha!! Just wait - he'll pin it on her when they lose - he'll get there eventually!
The dim bulb that is Sarah. Yes, Sarah Palin! It's the McCain campaign's fault you are nothing but a redneck in a skirt. It's his fault too that your state has the highest teen pregnancy rates in the country - even though you oppose sex education in schools (clearly your daughter got some sort of sex education, somewhere). It's McCain's fault that you never read anything but your local NRA newsletter and therefore can't formulate an opinion on anything of value. It's his fault that the campaign has to spend weeks prepping you on basic geography, history and current events so you can stand at a podium and talk about being a Hockey Mom. Yes, it's McCain's fault that you are so stupid, you don't even realise how you were insulted on Saturday Nite Live - twice.
Now, don't think I take anything for granted. Nightmares happen on election days. I talk about this with my neighbour all the time. He's the Bureau Chief for Wall St. Journal here in Brussels, he says it will be a landslide victory for Obama and he's going to bed the minute they call Virginia a Blue state. (as we are 6 hours ahead of East Coast here). Fair enough.
I look forward to the excitement of the next 5 days and the feeling that we are about to embark on a really interesting journey as Americans. History is in the making and we are part of it.
Obama '08
Brussels Confidential gets Busted
My mobile phone might as well be a Greek labyrinth. I don't know my way around it. I am terrible at fussing with settings and I don't bother. I also make tons of mistakes. Only a month ago my girlfriend AK from Finland - who is first on my phone contact list - asked me to enter a fake name at the top of my contact list - so that I would stop sending garbled message txts to her each time I throw my phone in my briefcase.
Last week, a friend sent me a txt message asking if I still have my blog and asking for the web address again. So I sent a reply txt with the blog address as requested.
Little did I realise, I had sent it to the wrong person. Of course.
Now this isn't such a bad thing. I don't usually slag anyone off in my blogs so it's ok to share. (OK I may say some things about 'the Slave' once in a while - but come on - that's a given) However, I like to be in control of deciding who sees what and when.
Now, if there's someone I might fancy, it goes without saying that I would prefer that he not really know about some of my escapades - or indeed about my Jungle Drawer until he's either hooked on me or safely tucked away in the 'friend only' file.
So, you can understand my frustration when a Smokin' Hot guy I know gets a look see at Brussels Confidential's blog before he gets a touchy feely with Brussels Confidential herself.
And when I say 'Smokin' hot' - well, those of you who have dated Crew Boys in University can understand. A rower's bum to die for and thighs to swoon over. Am I that shallow? YA. I am.
The real question is this: Will it help or hinder my social interaction with 'Smokin' Hot guy' if he knows I fancy men in Motorcycle leathers (helmet required), cook for men like I want to make love to them, and dream of a man in my kitchen wearing only an apron and holding a roast chicken?
Gee, I hope not. There is a lot on this blog tho!
It's not like I play around or anything (those of you who may have known me in University or in the 10 years immediately after University please refrain from laughing so hard you fall off your chair) I am an honest woman just feeling her way through the quagmire of men out there.... Still looking for the man with a chicken.
Here's the good news. Brussels Confidential had another wonderful evening with Mr. Smokin' Hot guy' and hopes to have more of them. Nothing was said about my documented activities, the 'slave', nor mention of the Stig - so all is well.
Update From Idaho
I saw the weirdest thing in my office parking garage this morning. I walked past athe normal row of parked cars in the dimly lit garage - but was startled to see a man sitting int he driver's seat of one car playing a trumpet. Really. The sight was so out of place, I was startled. I guess he's got to find places where he can practice and not bother people - it's just weird that it happens to be in his car in the office parking lot at 7:30 am. Anyway, that weirdness, reminded me to write an update on my Idaho family.
Auntie Mary, who used to be the 'normal' one has been visiting Mom for the last two weeks. Each time I called Mom during the visit, Mom begged me to stay on the phone just so she could speak to someonoe sane. Auntie Mary was driving her mental.
Auntie Mary is a curious one. She's outlived 4 previous husbands and is well on her way to badgering the current one to death. Uncle Stan hides in his hobby room most of the time making wooden airplanes to scale from scratch. He was a bomber pilot in the 2nd world war but a man can take only so much. Auntie Mary is almost 85 years old and her brain is short circuiting a bit. She never listens to anyone but she always has a conversation going - with herself. Once, I think she spoke non-stop for 6 hours. Ok - I didn't sit there for 6 hours timing her, but she was talking when I left and talking when I got back and I can't imagine she stopped in between.
She's got a real Idaho accent - she says 'ruff' instead of roof and 'crick' instead of creek. She slaps her thigh at the start of every sentence and sort of screams when she speaks. Driving Mom mental. I guess Mom was expecting it though. What she wasn't expecting is that Auntie Mary had taken up smoking. And pretending no one can tell. She's staying in 'my' room - and sneaking cigarettes in the bathroom. Mom promises to air the place out and give it a good scrub when Auntie Mary leaves.
Uncle Ben and Auntie Bette over in Homedale escaped near-death when their boiler blew up. Friends and neighbours got ailing Uncle Ben out just before the house blew to smithereens and scattered itself over the Snake River Valley. Auntie Bette is like a cat with 9 lives -remember, she's the one who ran over herself in her own car - told you about that a while back. Amazing - she's still got a couple lives left I guess.
We had an update about Auntie Sada who is over 90 and as ornery as ever. She's been in a food fight at the old folks home. But this was not like a funny food fight, it was an old people's, mean-assed, food fight. Apparently Auntie Sada went a step too far and winged her cofee cup at some poor, old Colonel. No one can really figure out what happened and who started it it. But Auntie Sada was punished. I think they held off on her Jello serving for a day or two.
The rest of the clan over there are ok. I suppose many of them will vote for McCain and Palin because they are Republicans - and no matter how horrid the Republican candidates are, they are still republicans through and through. Plus, they don't get too many Arabs (pronounced Ay-RABS) over there and they aren't about to start.
Crash landing in the Mid 80's
I have been in Dublin for work the last two days. Yesterday morning I went to a customer meeting south of Dublin in Cherrywood. Afterwards, I hopped the tram system called Luas back in to town. Dublin is a pretty small city but it has a very concentrated city centre that is chock full of people and life and action. It seems as though everyone has to pass through the centre for something or other - like there's nothing worthwhile in the outer parts.
I jumped off the Luas at St. Stephen's Green, I headed for the top of Grafton Street where my Dublin office is located. As usual, there was a maze of pedestrian and taxi traffic all around me. As I was looking to cross the tram tracks safely, I crashed right in to a man and his little kid - It wasn't a hard crash or anything -just a slow, but full-on collision.
I looked down at the kid and mumbled my apologies and then looked up at the man.
Within a nanosecond, I was transported back to the early 1980s. I was nose to nose and toes to toes with Andrew McCarthy.
Instant recognition - images of the Breakfast club, brat pack, Pretty in Pink, the stupid Weekend at Bernie's movies and most recently episodes of Lipstick Jungle flooded my head. I smiled.
Even though Andrew McCarthy is relatively tame on the fame-o-meter now, it wasn't always that way. He was a teen heartthrob back in the '80's. He had that 'nice guy', 'could be a good boyfriend' kind of appeal - nothing edgy - all safe and cute.
He sounds exactly like he did in Pretty in Pink - same voice, same intonation. He's shorter than I expected, but all actors are shrimps - really. I walked in to Sylvester Stallone in Georgetown which is part of Washington, DC in the late '80's. (it's a gift). Stallone in real life is like a caricature of himself because he's really tiny. You start to understand the chemistry of movie stars on screen when you see them in real life and think - that's it? It's a weird science.
Andrew McCarthy is still safe and cute. He's pretty wrinkly up close though and seemed to have a yellow tint to his complexion - Like he's had the 'South-east Asian' setting on his spray tan. He's still got sweet eyes and a nice smile though. He's on the hit prime time show Lipstick Jungle so things are still going his way.
Anyway, my crash into the 1980's was a nice break in my day - no one in the Dublin office was that impressed though. Apparently Colin Farrell is a regular at the pub down below the office windows and they often watch him have his coffee there. He's more of an A-lister I guess.
