The States is far more graphic than the UK on BTW (Below The Waist) problems both for men and women. In the UK, women’s monthly cycles on TV are still represented by somebody pouring colored ink on an all too absorbable material, as opposed to showing the reality, which is an orifice capable of hosting a veritable Epson ocean of ink.
Category: My America
What does a spouse do? Put the trash out? Phone the insurance company when they refuse to pay out? Phone the police when your iPad’s been stolen (again)? Put an arm around you when you cry?
This year, I’m having a quiet one by myself (though quite why I felt the need to order a 12lb turkey is anybody’s guess). As we draw to the end of a terrible year, there is still so much to be grateful for. I am alive, for starters.
STOP, RUDY! JUST STOP! Yes, I’m shouting at you, Mr Giuliani. Just as the President shouts in capital letters when he doesn’t like something people say about him, which is all the time.
Why do bad things happen to King Lear? Because he is easily flattered and doesn’t recognise true, honest love and loyalty when he sees it. He descends into madness because of the bad things that subsequently happen to him; and then, because of his madness, he puts into action even worse things that are eventually his downfall.
I am looking after my health, my emotional well-being, and giving my soul some much needed cultural nourishment. And so, today, I give thanks for the strength that is my inheritance; and the strength of a city that, even when it is sleeping, still shines.
Why would I go apple picking? There is a thing called a supermarket, where they wrap fruit in bags for you, thereby allowing you more time to spend at the bar not picking apples. And I hate apples. Well, maybe hate is too strong, but they seem to take a lot of effort: peeling, getting the maggots out, de-coring them. It’s why I never got into drugs.
Are there any circumstances in which an engagement ring could be classed as an “essential” service? It’s one of the many things that’s been worrying me during the pandemic lockdown as I plan my marriage to the New York State Governor, Andrew Cuomo. Yes, I know that I am very far down the line in a long queue, but a girl can dream.
The Blob. A horrid orange lump of an alien that comes from outer space to wreak havoc upon the lives of a small rural Pennsylvania town. The 1958 science fiction-horror film (re-made in 1988) was distributed by Paramount Pictures as a double feature with I Married a Monster from Outer Space. Prophecy?
Unless I can see a Marriott by standing on a small box, I have no interest in the prospect of being trapped on a mountainside, away from civilization and having to drink my own urine until the rescue services arrive.