11:27 a.m. - 2004-06-16
ForeLov, ForeMoney, ForeCountry
I'm going to play tennis tomorrow with my Foreign Lover (herein to be referred to as ForeLov). For an avid smoker, he's surprisingly active. At least active in comparison to me, who believes carting my groceries upstairs fulfills the required amount of exercising for the week. How he was able to talk me into doing this sport during 105 degree weather is pure genius. The following is an excerpt from the conversation that rocked the strong-armed world:
ForeLov: You vant to play the tennis tomorrow? (Isn't his accent cute?)
Me: Okay.
See? It's astounding isn't it? I imagine he could ask me to scrub his driveway with a toothbrush between my teeth while on hands and knees and I'd say something like 'It'd be my pleasure'. Foreign accents. It's a beautiful thing.
I�m feeling though that I should be having some secret warm up sessions for this big game of tennis. I have a feeling he is looking forward to smashing my ass on the court as the last game we played (bowling) left him losing 3-0. He was no fun that night. It appears that being a sore-pussy-loser transcends all cultures and is not just at home here in America. How comforting.
Other things that transcend: You know the nasty shirt/shorts/shoes/hat that a guy has, and sadly, wears? Know how the girlfriend/wife/lover/whatever will spend all their time and energy in making them throw it away? Yeah, it isn�t just here. ForeLov has a pair of slippers (could that be more gay?) that actually have holes in the bottom. I mean, his fucking feet are touching the ground, therein negating the purpose of the slipper itself (I guess it did get more gay). When asked why he would keep something that looked as though they could come to life and kick his ass, he answered that he had had them for over 10 years.
Whoa. Wait a sec. I quickly ran through my mind what this guy has been through in the last 10 years.
1. War
2. Avoiding war
3. Army
4. Concentration Camp
5. More War
6. Moving more times than countable
7. War yet again
8. Walking through a valley for two days to get away from War
9. Coming to America after selling/giving away everything he owned
10. Did I mention War?
And these slippers made it through all of that? Well what could I say except Holy Shit those are some magical fucking slippers. So I gave up. Like most arguments or complaining on my part, all he has to do is mention something about the war he lived through and I shut the hell up. Me bitching about how my boss doesn�t listen to me when he walked through a war in those damn slippers just sounds lame.
Remember that ladies next time your man wants to keep that nasty AC/DC t-shirt.
One thing I never complain about to him is my outright hatred for traffic. His response is always something like, 'At least you have traffic�When I was in the war�' where I then tune out. For instance, this morning on the way to Hell, AKA work, I had my window down as I always do when trying to conserve $2.10/gallon gas without using my air conditioner. As every morning, my thoughts always turn to my freaky Lysol toting grandmother who tried her best to instill the fear in me that if I have the window in my car down, someone will surely spit in it. Where this came from...I have no idea. My best guess is that it's from her mother who was so much of nut that my grandmother refers to her as the "Insane One". That says quite a bit when one nut turns to another and screams 'She's crazy'! Anyways...I'm enjoying the 85 degree weather at 7am this fine morning when at a stop light, a bicyclist pulls up next to me. He proceeds to spit downwards, but tragically, a dabble lands on my arm.
If I even tried to explain my disgust of this to ForeLov, I�d hear 'At least you have spit...'
