Notes From A Broad

I'm ill.

I arrived here to find a houseful of the walking wounded, Loo and MB and HB all snuffly and snotty and coughing with some form of a cold that was sweeping England with a force that put Beatlemania to shame.

To prevent myself from falling into it's clutches, I quickly grabbed a bottle of Vick's First Defense. This wonder drug has adverts that show a happy woman, shoving the little applicator up her nose and squirting this stuff, then inhaling easily, proving it's a safe, easy prevention to the colds that hide everywhere. I opened the bottle, inserted the little applicator, squirted it up my nose, and proceeded to do the dance. The one where you squish up your face and move around going "EWWWW!!! ARUUUUUUGH!!! AHHHHHH!!!!! NAAAAAAAAAAASTY!!! NAAAAASSSSSSSSSTY!!!" I'm sure if they showed her doing this, no one would buy this shit.

I kept up with the directions, however, inserting the little applicator, squeezing off the required amount, doing the dance, and looking smug (and like I'd sucked a huge lemon).

Two days ago, I felt that little nudge that says, "Sucker, you've got a cold."

So I do. I'm furious I did the dance four times a day, and have a cold *cough* anyway. I can't talk in the morning, I breathe heavily at night....Loo calls this breathing 'snores'..... and I am generally pathetic. I drink large amounts of hot lemon and honey in water, thanks to Loo, and I curse the Vick's bastards.
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You think you know someone, and you don't.

The B family hasn't seen Heroes yet, so, Loo purchased the box set of Season I for the girls. We've been watching it for the last three nights, with Loo leaving the room every time Syler comes on. What a wuss. I am not afraid of anything that silly... I save my fear for real things, like zombies. We've managed to make her sit down now, and stop dashing out every time he comes in the picture, which is more and more as the series progresses.

Now, she's obsessed with knowing who is going to die. She claims it..."helps her cope." Right.

I am the only person in the household who has seen the entire series, therefore, my knowledge is at a premium. I am also someone who hums and sings when I have a good hand in cards. When I start to hum or sing, they know something is going to happen.

I'm asked to leave the room on occasion.

Yesterday, Loo and I went to Sainsbury's... I have a thing about supermarkets in the UK. Some people visit churches, some go to museums, I go to supermarkets. We had done our shopping, picking up nibbly bits for dinner... and had loaded up the car in our prime parking space. It was that space reserved for two women who are at the point of wanting to kill someone who DOESN'T MOVE THEIR FUCKING CAR NOW!! Loo calls it the PMT space. (translation, the PMS space). She'd unlocked her side of the car, continuing with the questions to me, whinging on, "Just tell me."

I continued to refuse, trying to explain that it would ruin not only this series, but, the next one...she suddenly smiled serenely, and got in the driver's seat... and left me.

She drove slowly at first, leaving me to think she was going to do one of those cute things where she'd stop and I'd go to open the door and she'd drive a bit more.. you know the thing I mean.

No, she drove off totally and left me.

Standing there in the cold, in the Sainsbury's carpark, with no English money, no idea of what the phone number is at the Very House, no way of anyone there to get me anyway... I couldn't call a cab because I don't know our address... then, there was that money thing.

They won't take American money...besides, she had my purse.

I figured eventually, she'd come back... so, I wandered over to the smoker's section outside, hovering over the little heaters they leave. I didn't want to go back inside, as I'd want to buy something again.

And she had my purse, with my little bank card.

I stood there for a bit, scanning for a gray car. Do you have any idea how many gray cars there are in the UK?

A bunch.

A woman came over and asked if I needed help... I was sniffling by then from the cold and my cold. I was also saying my new favourite curse over and over. I'm sure I looked quite mad.

I explained what had happened, and she said, "Oh, right! Heroes! You know, my son gave that to us for Christmas." she paused. "So, tell me... who does die?"

I stared at her. "I'm not telling you either."

She left me to freeze.

Eventually the cow came back and picked me up. There was a bit of help needed to bend my knees to fit me back in the seat, but, I did warm up... then I sneezed on her dashboard.

Ha!

P.S. When telling of my abuse to the Jarhead on the phone, he laughed very hard, and told Loo, "So, you left Mom? Good job!"

I may have to send him the birth tape again to remind him what I went through.

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I have a new curse phrase.

I've used FMD for 20 years or so, it's been there for me, letting me yell or whisper, covering everything from shock to dismay to anger to surprise.

I have a new one.

Buggeryfuck.

Isn't it wonderful?

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I love English signs, they try and provide for every possible thing they can imagine that might need covering.





I've seen:

Hedgehog Crossing

Badger Crossing

Pelican Crossing (although I've yet to see one)

Elderly People

You get the idea.

We are driving south once again for a big family dinner--I thank god we only eat once a day--and there, as we came upon a roundabout, in the middle of nowhere...not a house, a building, a business, a farm...nothing... was this huge highway sign:

DISABLED PEOPLE

Eh?

I concluded it referred to those in the roundabout, because I maintain you have to be mad to drive in one of those.

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What are they like?

While at dinner, a group at a table near us exchanged gifts.... including something I saw, then fell into *GASP* mode.. gollywogs, they are called, or so I was told.

Black dolls, on leashes, attached to a doghouse.

The children who received them were tickled pink, and proceeded to play away, while I sat in total shock, saying "That's so wrong. It's wrong.... not just the doll, but, the leashes and the doghouse... it's wrong."

Loo expressed her shock, too....and out of respect to her family, who didn't see it, I behaved, not jumping in as I normally would have.

I did say to the man, "Those are wrong, completely."

He said to me, "We laugh at everything here, even tragedy, it's how we've survived. Besides, we didn't have slavery here in Britain, did we? That's a States issue."

I said, "Can you say Bristol?"

Best we left at that point, I reckon. I understand the ability to laugh at everything, I do think that is what gets the English, the Irish, the Scots through all that happens... they can see the wrong, yet still laugh at what is there. They (like me) laugh at funerals.

However, I'm still stunned, to be honest.
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It's a shame we don't get UK films in the US.

I saw a wonderful little film last night on DVD, called The History Boys. It was never released in the US, I imagine because none of the actors are known, and it's all based on the UK school system... still, it was easy to fall into, easy to become involved in, and based on a true story.

It was a play, made into a film, and it currently back on stage.

I'd love to see it in the theater... it's sold out, sadly.

If you have a DVD player that can pick up UK films, watch this one.
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Moving Day approaches.

We are taking a day off, letting me cough and moan and drink my lemon and honey water... the girls are off with their dad, and we may go see a film. Far better than packing, in my walking wounded mind.

Far, far better.

Packing, buggery fuck!