It all began innocently enough. My brother sent me an email with the subject -
Google failure or US failure. In it was a the by-now-famous thing about typing "failure" (without quotes) into google's search text box then pressing the 'I'm Feeling Lucky' button. It leads you to a page with
George W. Bush's biography - apparently a government page. You'll agree, it was innocent enough. But then I made my first mistake. Or maybe it was the second one after doing what the mail suggested, but anyway, what I did was that I actually started reading the page instead of smiling and closing it after I got the joke. But no, I had to read it.
Among the first things I noticed was that he has twin daughters, Jenna and Barbara Bush. Well, nice, I guess. Then I read that he's married to -
First Lady Laura Bush. That's how it's written. Somehow I couldn't figure that out. It just isn't right. I somehow don't think First Lady is part of her name, she got to be that when he became the President, and when you're writing about who the President of the United States is married to, I think the best way to put it is - the first lady, Laura Bush. Yes? No need for capitalising the first and the lady even. Ok, ok... I know it's the editor in me who's not yet dead, but I'm trying to quash that, yes, I'm trying. But really! Even if First Lady Laura Bush is exactly how they have to write it according to American law or something, it's just so wrong! That's it. I have pronounced. You, minion, shall concur.
Then, hold your hearts o ye faithful readers of my blog (who am I kidding), I read that he was born on July 6, 1946. And I took a deep breath, curled up and died. Well, I didn't really, but how I wish.
How I wish! Because the date - it is exactly a day before my own birthday if you don't take into account the year of course. Which means, (gasp!) that the dumbest President of the United States shares my sunsign. Next follows the thought that the Crabs are supposed to be homely. And I think yes, he's probably got my share of the homeliness too. Then I stop myself short just as the horror begins to dawn upon me. What the hell am I doing??!!! I am somehow associating him
with me! In whatever vague roundabout way, I am reaching out to him from accross the oceans and feeling at one with him. (Please, all say with me - Yuccckkkkk!)
So I do the only thing possible that can save my sanity. (Hehehe... I said 'my sanity'. Tee hee. My sanity. Hehe.
My sanity? My
sanity? Such a deliciously abstract concept!) I back up into denial. Yes, I do that very well, I'm the denial queen. Unfortunately I could not deny his birth or mine or the days on which we were respectively born, but I did the next best thing. I denied the whole sunsigns concept. I mean, to think that a person is the same type as someone who was born anytime in
an entire month with him. That's surely madness. So I now believe in stars and their alignment. Obviously, when I was born, the stars were in some
definite point in their journey across the cosmos. And when GWB was born, they were in another
definite point. That
definitely makes us
infinitely different because the stars, they keep moving every minute, every socond. So I'd be the same as someone born in the exact same second as me and no one else. So it makes us several hours different when each precious second counts. And when we consider the years... whew! See why I am so much more evolved and smarter than him? Yes? I always knew I could run 10 Americas at once.
oesn't explain why my stomach insists on simulating being the laughing Buddha's stomach. I was horrified today. There's a kind of a... bulge... when I sit on this computer chair. And knowing me, I cannot stop sitting on this chair. So, it's down to being horrified and ashamed and panic-stricken and very very concerned. Sigh.
oesn't explain why my stomach insists on simulating being the laughing Buddha's stomach. I was horrified today. There's a kind of a... bulge... when I sit on this computer chair. And knowing me, I cannot stop sitting on this chair. So, it's down to being horrified and ashamed and panic-stricken and very very concerned. Sigh.
