Snapshots from Hellentine and the Sheikh and I!

Guys, this is going to be long ... so grab a chair, a tea, or a JB, sit back and if need be, divide the reading into two :P. I'm inspired this week!

Part 1 - Snapshots from Hellentine!:

Generally speaking, there is not much of a difference between the month of January and that of February. Both months tend to be pretty uneventful (what? why? has anything happened in January in Malta? anything? ;)) and would seemingly merge effortlessly into each other would it not be from one clear indication that February is approaching; i.e. the unmissable, all encompassing, highly entertaining - Valentine's Day Photo Competitions on Facebook!

Have you noticed that they are once more mushrooming around? I did, and to this end, I would like to use this much loved medium to make a little request, if you would be so kind as to bear with me. So, here goes:

Dear Facebook friend (if you're just an acquaintance, expect to be purged soon, a FB cleanup is held periodically), well done for taking the time and effort to upload a picture of you and your loved one, and for asking me to become a member of a mailing list that I don't want to be in, just for me to "like" your picture. It is really sweet of you. Really. And yes, I realise that:

a. your hormones make you think that your boyfriend is the next best thing after nutella on a warm brioche - it is understandable, and it is nature's way of ensuring that produce an offspring with this guy (thus avoiding the extinction of the human race) before you actually see him for what he really is;

b. the rosy cloud of love you find yourself in makes you think that the one aim in everyone's life is to pass every waking hour thinking of how you and him make a perfect couple and just how cute you look in that picture;

c. you really want a weekend break.

BUT!!!! (yes, it's not grammatically correct to start a sentence with "but" but Jane Austen did it too, so English teachers, let this one go ok?) I will not be liking any of your pictures because:

a. I have not been selected by nature to procreate with your boyfriend, so I see him as he really is. And I don't like.
b. I don't pass my waking hour thinking of how and you him make a perfect couple and I don't think either of you look very cute in that picture. So I don't like.
c. I think that you if you want a weekend break so much that you actually decide to be subjected to public ridicule, you should perhaps consider paying for it yourself. And that I'd like.

thaaaanks.

Two asides:

1. I've been taking so far the female perspective, because for the life of me I cannot imagine a guy who would purposely want to upload a picture of him and his blackheads on FB for people to just laugh. But (shut up English teachers) then again, I have no idea what guys think and feel most of the time. All I know is that they have a completely different Operating System installed from that found in girls, and while it is not exactly incompatible with ours, it seems to be very much subject to errors and formatting necessities. I was tempted to make an Android joke here, but actually most guys of my acquaintance are pretty amazing. So no gratuitous jokes at their expense today. Nevertheless, tutorials on how they actually function would be welcome (I'd take notes)!

2. I know that I constantly take the piss out of anything romantic. That doesn't mean that my aim in life is to die alone eaten by my cats. Actually, I do plan on presenting the world with a Mini-Gracie or two in the future, and I do want to make sure that I teach them all about the beauty of creative expression, to not take themselves too seriously, to never stop asking questions, to mix blind faith with a healthy dose of clear rationality, and to laugh, cry and sing without shame. I also plan on providing them with a good-natured, steady and down to earth daddy to counteract the damage caused by mummy's teachings. So yes, yours truly can love, and she can do so very deeply, but she just chooses to pay for her own weekend breaks.

thaaaaanks again.

end of part 1!


Part 2 - The Sheikh and I!

Now, to keep in line with the theme of "things that really seem cool to you just because you're in love, but are completely, outrageously and sidesplitting funny to rest of the world", I would like to share a pre-wedding video that I've seen some time ago. I'm sure that most of you have been subjected to such videos; having to smile encouragingly while watching the bride and the groom gaze at each other into the sunset, ride white horses on the beach, or randomly finding champagne bottles in the sand. However, this video that I've watched, and which IS AVAILABLE ONLINE (contact me!), beats them all. And if you'd be so patient as to enjoy this descriptive ride, you will know why!

Open Scene 1:

A small boutique, in one of the islands in the Maltese archipelago which is not Malta, Comino or Cominotto, with a sign saying "salesMAN" wanted (erm ... isn't such an advert illegal nowadays?? but anyhoo...moving on). You can imagine what happens. Our hero goes in, gets the job immediately, and within 30 seconds is standing next to the cash register surrounded by female underwear. In the meantime the heroine, who seems to actually own the shop, is randomly moving clothes from 1cm to another for no apparent reason. Also, she has, for some strange reason, left her mobile lying on the counter. Groom-guy decides that it's a really good idea to just pick up her mobile and ask her out by leaving her a message on it. Seriously??? Privacy dude!! Try that trick on me and you'll find a kitchen knife sticking out of your chest! Metaphorically of course. Really. *getting the dexter look* Really.

Well, of course she accepts. And the leave the shop together. Business seemed to be slow anyway.

End Scene

Open Scene 2:

They're having a coffee. Conversation is minimal, but I guess they somehow make it to a second date if we're at the pre-wedding stage. Usually, on my first date, I talk and joke and make my date laugh, but then again, I don't have that many second dates either. (Note to self - annihilate personality and avoid conversation, jokes and eye contact. That seems to work.)

End Scene

Open Scene 3:

RANDOMNESS!!!!! For some unknown reason, the scene opens with a Sheikh draped on a carpet, surrounded by three very covered up belly dancers (we're Catholic! The belly button is sin!!) and giggling bare chested man fanning him. Don't ask. Don't question. It just does not make sense, but please go with it ok?

------------- then comes a useless scene of bride and groom walking in the countryside and staring at each other ---------------

And we're baaack! The Sheikh asks one of his cronies (luckily he's dressed!) to find him a new girl for his harem and gives him a camera. You all know where this is going right?

------------- there is a scene where this guy takes pictures of our heroine. I'm on the edge of my seat, this is just so exciting!!! he goes back to the sheikh and shows him a lot of pictures of ugly women, and of that of the heroine. The sheikh makes his choice, and here it comes! ------------------

Open Scene (lost count now):

Bride and groom are walking around (you have to give them credit for liking their country walks really!) with matching hats, because, of course, this is what everyone does right? The picture guy brought with him a friend or brother, and they're dressed in matching striped sweaters, in the style of i Fratelli Dalton but somehow reminding me more about the Gemelli Derrek (you remember them? of the Catapulta Infernale???).

Anyway, to cut a long story short, as the bride is chatting away on her mobile while her fiance walks respectfully away to pick flowers (?!? I guess they had the talk about privacy after all), they throw a sheet on her and kidnap her. OH THE HORROR!

The idiots leave their wallet behind in the scuffle, and apparently there is an ID Card. I know ... this is not getting better. I guess I should warn you. It won't!

End Scene

Open Scene:

In the Sheikh's tent. The same sheet is lifted, and guess who's in it? The bride of course, who had the time to put on a belly dancer costume while shut in the boot of the car. So, now the question that one asks is the following. What does one do when one is kidnapped by a pervy sheikh and forced to form part of his harem? Does one try to escape and make a scene? No! Of course not, the only thing that one does in such situations is to apparently ignore and render irrelevant a hundred years of femminist endeavors and dance away in front of your kidnapper without a care in the world! Somehow, I don't particularly believe that the director of this piece of drivel had the Stockholm Syndrome in mind. Anyway, as the bride shakes her booty and has the time of her life, the groom makes his way, COMPLETELY INCONSPICUOUSLY DRAPED IN A WHITE SHEET, and starts to dance with the harem girls. Bride dances away and doesn't give a shit. Suddenly, with something that looks remarkably like a toy pistol, he threatens the sheikh, and grabs the bride to take her away. Since she has no care, or rational thought, in the world, she just follows him as if the past events(which took up 10 minutes of my life) did not happen.

And they lived happily ever after...which is then shown in another scene of them staring at each other on some beach somewhere. I was half expecting the champagne bottle and the white horses. Thankfully, I was spared.

I would like to reiterate that this video is true and is found online. The only reason for not posting the link here is that is that I'm not particularly sure it's legal to do so and cannot really be bothered to check. If you want the link, FB, whatsapp, email or BBM me, most of you know who I am anyway ;).

I do apologise for this extremely long post, but if it at least leads to a couple of lovebirds or two refraining from subjecting the rest of us to the insanity of Hellentine Pictures and Sheikhy Pre-wedding videos, then perhaps, PERHAPS! it would have not all been in vain :).

hugs

Gracie

Wikispeaks! (again)

Dear all,

It is time for all of you to pat yourself on the back ... as at 14:04 on Sunday 22nd January 2012, the number of hits on this blog reached 1128. This means that your nonsense-blogger Gracie is happy, and when Gracie is happy, she blogs, and as a result the sarcasm deficit in the world is restored :).

A lot of things happened in our country this week. Many more important things happened in the world. I do not have the sensibility to deal with the Costa Concordia disaster, since I would end up making jokes about it, and I try to limit myself when people have actually died. All I can say is that unfortunately we have confirmed the existence of Schettinos, but we also rediscovered with pleasure the possibilities of Del Falcos. So there is hope, at least and may the "Vada a Bordo C***o!!!" remind all those in positions of power that they are there to act in the one-in-a-million-times when things go wrong, and that in such a circumstance they are NOT allowed to fail.

Anywaaaaay! The one thing that happened this week that left me staring helplessly at the monitor, with ten fingers poised in mid-air in disbelief is the 24 shut down of Wikipedia. Now ... before the the wave of "Bif F***in Deal!" reaches my living room, allow me to give you some background on the life of yours truly, so that you may try to comprehend the hours of mental and social vacuum that this action caused me.

So ... dear people who lived through the early nineties with already fairly developed cognitive skills, do you remember that set of children's encyclopedia called "Childcraft" that used to be sold by door-to-door salesmen? For those who don't remember, here is a refresher course on, where else, Wikipedia. Now, you must know, that I actually read all the set from cover to cover between the ages of 7 to 12. I also read the Parent's Volume, which explains to our mums and dads how to broach the subject of puberty and the birds and the bees conundrum. In fact, the changes in my body were no surprise, the birds and the bees though ... remembering how I got to know about that is still a trauma, 21 years later! Anyhooooo, so I read these books and therefore turned out to be the girl at catechism class who told her teacher that no, it can't be that our God is automatically the only God since there was a boy in a Bushman tribe in the Sahara desert who believed that his ancestors were deities. I was also the much loved daughter who explained what a "Kibbutz" was during Sunday lunch, to the unconcealed disdain of my older brother, and to a set of worried parents who wondered, "will this girl ever manage to have a social life"? Well, if there are any young parents reading this, do take note of the signals ... a child with an inquisitive mind ends up blogging about nonsense in his or her adult life, and will enjoy every minute of it. So you either learn to live it, or burn all books at home :).

Well, this Childcraft reading nerdylocks grew up to be me. And by me, I mean a person who in this past week resorted to using Wikipedia to search:

- for a picture of Howard Wolowitz to explain to a colleague why he looks like him (colleague is still not impressed)
- the life of J. Edgar Hoover after watching a trailer of "J.Edgar" at the cinema
- how many horses perished in World War I after watching War Horse,
- what was the Spanish Influenza and how did it kill people after sneezing 4 times in an hour,
- the Ides of March because a friend was watching the film with the same title
- Bonnie and Clyde ... actually I can't remember why I searched for that. Cannot quite be for the heck of it now can it?

The investment in a Blackberry also means that I can never leave an issue unresolved during a conversation, and the phrase "heq mhux we google it??" has become a standard, also followed by the standard awkward pause during which the people sharing my table wait as my phone is "loading data" or "fetching photos" [dear slow Blackie, I will still love you forever]. So, with that in mind, please bear with me when I ask, plead and beg Wikipedia to NEVER EVER CLOSE DOWN AGAIN!!!

Before I leave you all to ponder how weird I actually am, could I please ask for advice from someone with green fingers about Rosie my office plant?? Rosie was born a Ponsietta in December 2009, but has now evolved into a green non-ponsietta like creature that looks something like this. Rosie shares my Monday blues, my Friday afternoon euphorias, and my cold Green Tea, so I would love to share many other years of office life with her in red petaled glory ... any ideas as to how to ensure that???

thank you and hugs and many other things!

Gracie

Chronicles of Nothing: Wikispeaks! (again)

Chronicles of Nothing: Wikispeaks! (again): Dear all, It is time for all of you to pat yourself on the back ... as at 14:04 on Sunday 22nd January 2012, the number of hits on this bl...

Death, taxes ... and other certainties :)

The only two certainties in life are death and taxes." –Mark Twain

Erm ... no, not really. While I do not dispute the wisdom of Mark Twain, I can most certainly confirm that there are quite a number of other certainties in life and in fact, what I want to do today is to add on to this thought of Mr Twain with a few ideas of my own.

Blame the traffic while driving through the floods this evening which gave me ample time to think this out, or just blame yourself for reading through :). Soooo... here we go!

10. In the 24 hours following the washing of your car, the country floods. Very often, the country floods as a result of a South Eastern Saharan Desert Storm that turns your car in a sticky mess of brownish goo. Sometimes, it is a clean Northern storm of apocalyptic proportions, which leads you to drive in flooded roads, turning your car in a ... sticky mess of brownish goo.




9. In a four lane road with one pothole, you will drive the front right wheel in it. This in turn will cause you
a. a punctured wheel in the middle of a flooded road
b. a punctured wheel which you will discover the following morning when you're already 10 minutes late for work and getting ready to meet your boss for a meeting "l-ewwel haga filghodu"
c. no punctured wheel, but screwed suspensions

8. The more rushed you are (after fixing abovementioned puncture) the more red lights you are forced to endure. The more red lights you endure, the more slow moving sweet little grannies you find crossing the pedestrian crossings. The sweeter the granny the greater is the urge to press the gas pedal.

7. If you're having a bad day, and you slam the kitchen cupboard, the door will open again, and the largest, heaviest can will fall out ... and land on your big toe. Try it. It never fails.

6. The more beautiful the shoe, the greater is the atrocious, agonising, morphine addicting inducing pain it causes. Don't bother with "party feet"; all they do with their cushion of air is push your foot higher and squash it tighter in the sandal strings. That means that the rest of the night will progress in agony both in the sole and in the toe area. Of course, the fact that you actually paid money for those shoes means that you deserve to stand in a corner screaming and bawling your eyes out. I will be there. Pointing. And grinning.

5. If you are a female driver, the more males there are watching you park, the more impossible it gets. You will turn into a female cliche. And then you will blog about it.

4. The size of your wardrobe is inversely proportional to the hotness of your date. You.Have.Nothing.To.Wear. Get over it, it's true.

3. On a related note, the hotter your date, the uglier you are. It's another fact that cannot be denied. As your date sparkles away with his blinding smile, shiny hair and flawless five o'clock shadow, the spot on your chin which decided to make its first appearance since puberty, the baby hair that has frizzed away since you were ... a baby, and that silly fringe that just won't stay in place will accompany you through your date which the commitment that your date will, rest assured, never even consider.

2. Don't despair however, and be happy, because another certainty in life is that your current boyfriend/crush/date will find The One after meeting you. In fact, it is an undeniable fact that the next girlfriend of your current boyfriend is that one that he will marry. So really, with your presence, you have paved the way for long-term happiness for this piece of genetic hotness that is currently sitting in front of you. Rejoice!

1. Final life certainty, and related to point 2: your current boyfriend will get over all his commitment issues, fear of falling in love, dislike of children, and reluctance to get a mortgage the MINUTE HE DUMPS YOU. So whenever that happens, give him a hug and wish him all the best, because you know that his problems in life are over!

Before I'm accused of excessive cynicism and grouchiness, let me just remind you that whatever I say has to be taken with a pinch of salt. Sarcasm is after all, an art which requires loads of commitment, and regular encouragement :).

hugs!

Gracie :)

Silence speaks when words shouldn't ...

So, as a link from my previous post ... Santa?! Hello?! Hello Hello Hello!!?!? Enough said. Not impressed.

It's 2012 ... well it's been 2012 for 8 days, but bear with me, blogging is not as easy as it looks, especially when most of the things that have been happening around me fall under the category of "Things That Shall Not Be Blogged About". You can imagine which, and they include a report card ... but I will not go there, other bloggers have tackled the subject in a far far better way than I could ever hope to do. Some journalists ... a bit less. Moving on ... this is very dangerous territory!

What's coming up is a blog post which is going to make me very unpopular, but what the heck, I've been wanting to say it for a long time, and the tragic events that took place on New Year's Day in Sliema have rekindled in me the annoyance I have many times felt in similar circumstances. So if you want to, do read on but if you disagree please do so respectfully, and only after perhaps giving what I say a second thought.

Dear Facebook user,

I know that sharing and communicating is fun, I form part of the FB category of users who love to share links, songs and videos, update statuses, and have sometimes fallen victim of oversharing. It's fun, and it is an outlet to vent and keep connected at all times. Some people hate it, but most like it, and fair enough, it's what makes Facebook the phenomenon that it has become.

However, and here it comes ... please please do NOT take someone else's tragedy and make it your own. Two men died on New Year's Day in tragic circumstances, and it has absolutely NOTHING to do with how sad, shocked, horrified you may feel. The victims and their family don't care how you feel, especially if you have no relation with them, or only know either of them because they're the neighbours of the third cousin twice removed of your local grocer. Other people's sadness should not be taken over as your own, just to get a couple of "likes" and an outlet for you to share the intimate details of the case (well ... did you know him? Not much, but he was married to XXX...really? she works at XXXXX, and we used to go to school together 20 years ago ..."LIKE").

The Sliema tragedy is not the only time that this has happened, I've seen statuses (not necessarily limited to FB) that really annoyed me such as:

"Why is it that all the girls I fall in love with lose their father? :(" (I'm serious!)
"This year I lost my friend XXXX"

As a person who has lost someone very dear, close and loved, I do not want to see someone else pick up on it and take it as his or her own. It's MY loss, MY sadness, MY shock and no one else can possibly understand it. So please, before doing the hyena thing over the misfortune of others ask yourself some questions:

- Are you as shocked, sad and horrified as if it had happened to you?
- Would you post your shock, sadness and horror at the death of a parent, spouse or lover?
- Are the ones directly affected by a tragedy on Facebook receiving likes?

If the answers to all these questions is a no, please, just log off, or make an effort to cover yourself with a veil of respectful silence.

Thanks

Gracie

Dear Santa...

Dear Santa,

2011 is coming to an end and it is time to look ahead, make breakable resolutions, bow our heads in shame for missed objectives, and pat ourselves on the back for little victories. It is also time to draw a wishlist for 2012, which I am humbly forwarding to you, for your interest, perusal and prompt action.

So dear Santa I wish for a 2012 where my wishes are better expressed, where my dreams are at least partially made true, and where bitches and bastards do not get what they obviously don't deserve. I wish for a year where I can smile with satisfaction because for once, bad things happen to bad people, and the life of good people consequently becomes a bit easier. Dear Santa, I wish for a year made of shades of grey, and not of black and white. Please remind people that pointing one finger at others means pointing three fingers at oneself, and that listening comes before preaching, and that the benefit of the doubt should be given to our conscience.

Dear Santa, I wish for a year without stupid comments on the Times of Malta, a slight increased brain capacity for the Maltese race, politicians who don't consult with Supernatural Deities before issuing statements, and who work for the people instead of for the people's vote. I wish for a Church that looks for rotten apples within itself, before looking for them outside. I wish for people to get along, and to think before speaking.

Dear Santa, I wish for more laughter, more sleep, the willpower to take up running, more sales on boohoo.com, and something that you know about but I can't express here. I wish for constant happiness for my little nephews, and to thank them for stirring the almost non-existent Christmas spirit in me.

I wish for the ability to not lose my gloves constantly, and for me to bite my tongue a bit more. I wish for more opportunities and inspiration to update this blog, and more time to take care of myself and to soften up. Dear santa, turn my sarcasm into irony, cynicism into realism and disappointment into ambition.

To conclude, dear Santa, I wish for 2012 to be a better year, for me, my loved ones and those who deserve it. With respect to what constitutes "better", please consult with me. My definition is usually not subject to interpretation.

Merry Christmas Santa ... and enjoy your imaginary trip round the world!

Gracie :)

Guess who's coming to dinner?

Last night, as I walked out of a meeting and made my way towards my car (the reason why I haven't commuted in the last few days is boring and without blog-factor) I saw a shooting star and made my own very earnest and desired for wish. I won't go into the details of it since

1. if you share the wish it won't come true
2. well... it is really kind of personal, even to someone who shares her most obnoxious thoughts without shame in a blog.

However, to get you in context, this wish is not TOTALLY unrelated to this week's topic, which is my own personal top 5 list of people I would so very gladly go out to dinner with. I speak of "people" because the sort of dinner I'm referring to is platonic, and in no way conducive to feeling obliged to sleep with the party with whom I'm sharing the table. When you see my list, with a glaring exception, or possibly two, you will understand why. Soooo... here we go!

Number 5: Zachary Levi

Not only does this glorious being look like this, but he also led to my coining of the phrase "geekie-hottie" in the portrayal of a Nerd-Spy (Chuck Bartowski) who carries all the US government's security secrets in his brain because of an unfortunate download. Moreover, and this is where one's faith in ... something ... is somewhat revived, this personified hotness also owns a company, called The Nerd Machine to show that deep down in his handsome heart, he's just a nerd like most of the blogging community :).





Number 4: Gialappa's Band

For those not familiar with Italian TV or Radio, these guys are unknowns. However, all those who have been brought up with programmes such as Mai Dire Gol, Mai Dire Banzai, Mai Dire TV and Mai Dire Grande Fratello know what I'm talking about. This trio of never seen "voices" have managed to create a cult following and led to a breakout of comic talent in Italy that has earned them my earnest desire to sit at a table with them and just bitch about everything and everyone around us. They manage to make anything on TV watchable just by adding their own commentary and infectious laughter. Their Radio Programme leaves me in fits. I want to share a mike with them ... and while we're at it, a bottle of wine and a Rib-eye (RIBYE for some) steak!


Number 3: Luciana Litizzetto

I did say it was a platonic dinner didn't I? Well, let me confess something. My humour, sarcasm, irony and commentary on life is in large proportion attributable to this genius of a woman. Every Sunday, at 21.10 on Rai3, Luciana Litizzetto unleashes her weekly tirade against the political world (and not only). She makes fun of Berlusconi and his gang, Carla Bruni and men in general, and just for that, I could spend hours with her sharing a chocolate cake. If she had to bring with her the best selling booked penned by her aptly named "I dolori del giovane Walter" (I let you all figure out what Walter is referring to ... as a hint, Walter is surrounded by "gli amici di Maria"), the chocolate cake would be followed by chocolate and orange ice-cream covered in caramel.

Number 2: Jim Parsons

Better known as Sheldon Lee Cooper. But no, Sheldon won't be my ideal dinner companion, since besides the fact that he would consider me to be an inferior form of an unevolved human species, I would have no idea of what he is talking about most of the time. My dinner companion has to be the actor who plays the role. Jim Parsons is uncannily similar in mannerisms and eccentricities to his character but, like me, he has confessed to not knowing what Shelly is on about. The actor is capable of laughing and hugging so what else could one possibly want? Bazinga (c) :)!





Number 1: Roberto Benigni

This man can make Dante Alighieri sound interesting, can keep 10million Italians glued to the screen to hear a 40 minute monologue on a minor TV station and has literally walked all over botoxed film stars at the Oscars before declaring to want to make love to them all.



Dulcis in fundo: he managed to switch clothes with Conan O'Brien for no apparent reason. Need I say more?

So this was my top 5 list, and while I know that these dinners will never happen, I remind the little shooting star of the wish I expressed last night, which is very dear to me. And if "Google" is watching sternly from the heavens and keen on asking me where on earth I was during the last Sundays instead of attending mass, I would like to reply by quoting a wonderful phrase that was, so regrettably, not penned by me:

‎"I don't object to the concept of a deity but I'm baffled by the notion of one who takes attendance" (The Big Bang Theory - Amy Farah Fowler)

Hugs,

Gracie :)