Category: Fourre-tout

A little bit of everything

Holy Shopping

Day in day out I am basically wearing the same clothes. Not by choice mind you.
It is not that I am hostile to fashion; it is rather that fashion is hostile to me.

My body happens to be part of a limited edition, and clothes manufacturers are not interested in accommodating such a restricted market.
Therefore, when I go on a buying safari I find it extremely difficult to find garments that will fit me.

And to add to my woes, there is the excruciating shopping steeplechase.
To maximize profits, store managers have dismissed qualified salespeople and left just a few zombies to man the cash registers.
Salespeople have become a vanishing breed and a customer is basically on his own when venturing in the jungle of a department store.

Personally I hate shopping like Republicans hate freethinkers, but unlike the Republicans I have many solid reasons to hate shopping.

Let me count the ways…

When you finally collar a salesperson (hopefully English speaking), he/she cannot devote too much time to you because they are needed somewhere else.

And when you find something that you like (but of course doesn’t fit), you feel compelled to bring back the stuff where you found it, and to neatly fold it back.
I have better things to do with my time.

Sophia LorenWhen miracle of miracles, you finally stumble upon something half-decent there are the unavoidable alterations.
The discriminatory surcharge added to already expensive items.
Is this a way to treat a guy willing to splurge on new duds? I don’t think so.

Women profess to love shopping.  “I just lôôôve shopping” they coo.
How could they love being treated like canine droppings and having to pay for it?
But women (it is a little-known scientific fact) are masochists and that’s why they adore shopping.

And that’s why alas, you always see me wearing the same old faded duds.
These clothes are not glamorous, but they happen to fit me and that’s all that matters.

Thinking of it, what I really need is a shopping assistant…

If you happen to have an hourglass figure, know all the words of La Marseillaise and can properly season “escargots”, give me a jingle, I might be interested.

Alain

 

Revolutionary day in Sonoma

Last Sunday, people gathered in Sonoma to celebrate Bastille Day, the 224th anniversary of the French Revolution, and incidentally to play a little pétanque.
They came in throngs ready to feast and to compete.
I estimated the crowd to be around 150 people, without counting babies, children and dogs.
People came from all over the Bay Area and there were many faces that I didn’t recognize. I apologize if I didn’t remember you and didn’t greet you properly.

The weather was perfect throughout the day, not too hot and not too cool.

The VOMPC did an excellent job of organizing the event. They even rented tables and chairs to accommodate such a large crowd.
Thinking of that, it would have been nice to let people know about this so that nobody would have had to schlep chairs and tables to the field. Next time maybe.

The tournament managers were able to put together 28 triplettes, that is 84 players.
The tournament started around 10:00 a.m. and two games were to be played before lunch.
I personally opted not to play to concentrate on taking pictures, for it is almost impossible to do both. I took a lot of snapshots and out of almost 300 shots I published about a hundred of them.
You can look at them by clicking on “My photos” on the right side of this blog.

The lunch was prepared by chef Christine Piccin and her crew, and the music was provided by the Due Zighi Baci duo.

IMG_2004Around lunchtime we were treated as usual to an enthusiastic (if slightly off-key) rendition of La Marseillaise by none other than Le Facteur (aka Jean-Michel Poulnot).
That was fine and dandy, but I still wonder why he kept brandishing a golden phallus during his entire performance?
Is there something about the French Revolution that I didn’t know?

There was also another rendition of La Marseillaise by another gentleman.
It was OK, but in my often partial opinion it didn’t match the enthusiastically bloodthirsty spirit of The Postman’s performance.

After lunch the tournament continued and I spotted some episodes that I never saw before. I witnessed a seemingly insecure dog accompanying his mistress each step she took on the field, and a determined mother crouching and pointing while carrying a baby in her arms.
Could you do that? I couldn’t.
Pétanque wonders will never cease.

Thank you Valley of the Moon Pétanque Club for a job well done and an excellent day.

Alain

PS: To look at pictures of this event, turn the sound on, click on the “Home” link at the top of the page, and click again on “My photos” located on the right side of the page.

 

Pedestrians’ arrogance

When crossing the street, they are so imbued with their righteousness that they are even willing to risk their lives to make their point.
They will step in front on a moving car and cross the street with a deliberate slow pace while giving you a telepathic finger.

This is why I hate pedestrians. Bullfighting pedestrians that is. I stop for animals and considerate citizens, but I’d rather not stop for “agents provocateurs”.

pedestrians runningWhen a bull snorts, it is far wiser to pause than to taunt him. And so should a pedestrian when he sees an approaching car. If you show the bull respect, he will respond in kind. And so will drivers.
But if you are disrespectful, the bull is likely to be offended. And an angry bull is not something to be trifled with.

I don’t care for violence, but (just once) I would love to see one of those arrogant bastards sent flying across the hood of a car.

The pedestrians’ implied threat is always “If you even graze me, I will sue the pants off of you”, but what good is the suit going to do for somebody with multiple fractures, internal bleeding and twenty-five minutes left to live?
You need to be physically and mentally fit to enjoy the fruits of your “righteousness”.
You should therefore never step in front of a moving vehicle. Regardless of what the law says. Duh!

I love the Pamplona Bull Run.
It is a place in Spain where bulls have cojones and where stupid pedestrians get their comeuppance. If they don’t get out of the way, the bulls will do it for them.
A 1500-pound bull will show a 150-pound weakling who has the right of way.
And sue me says the bull, but before you do that, I’ll stick my horns in your butt to remind you that “might makes right”.

If you crave excitement, join the marines or bungee jump from the Golden Gate Bridge, but stop harassing already overstressed drivers.

Alain