A New Nickname; I Miss You Already; A Theme Song; A Rant Condemning Torn Jeans

I have a new nickname, my namesake gave it to me. My namesake’s name is…McBride (but he is not the first husband whose name I kept). This McBride is Richard and I met him through either Jeffrey or Victor (it the same man but it is confusing when somebody has a last name that could be a first name). Jeffrey/Victor told me not to feel bad about the confusion, everybody is confused. He said of Richard and Yours Truly that we should get a television show. Richard and I would just walk around Vancouver (and other environs) making snide comments about the food, the shops, the museums and, I guess, the Mayor. It would be hilarious he opined. It would be as Richard and I are both, shall we say, outspoken. Outspoken, outrageous and funny, If I do say so myself.Richard is big into show business so I am leaving the details up to him. We are planning to meet up during the last week in October or the first week in November, so stay tuned. 

But in an email Richard called me Delicious Goodness. Is that not sweet? I shall just call myself D.G. Richard calls himself: “Lobotic Bionic Cryogenic” He is way more flamboyant than I am. 

So Delicious Goodness is sweet. But this is also sweet and is also the truth. Yesterday upon leaving Cafe Medina after consuming the Fricassee (yum, yum) Sebastian said: “Goodbye. I miss you already!” I started to cry, for many reasons I guess. But was not that the sweetest thing to say? I met Rafaeli there for lunch. Her Dad, who lives in Brazil, says that he is glad she found a new friend. I told her that I was glad I found a new friend as well. 
I write this portion of the blog from bed (mine). Apple Music is playing but stuck on the theme song of Romeo and Juliet and it is beginning to affect my mood, I fear. I seem to specialize in tragic love affairs – three marriages and that is the tip of the ice berg. But there are the lyrics from a U2 song (I think): “A heart that is broken is one that is open.” Objectively all love affairs are tragic because even if you live happily ever after (marriage and all of that) still – one person almost always dies before the other. One cannot have love without loss. The corollary thought: Hate is not the opposite of love, indifference is. I do not hate my exes, I am indifferent to them. The passion goes, the good memories go and there is nothing left but fog. Fog does not clutter your mind the way hate does and the natural instinct is to seek the sunshine and the light. That is my secret of success and why I am able to be so cheerful. “I want what she has” some man said in the Medina Cafe yesterday. 
It is time for a rant. I have not ranted in awhile. My last rant was about feminism and may be found in the blog of September 11, 2017. This time I am going to rant about torn jeans. I hate torn jeans with a passion. Not only do they look absolutely stupid – which they do – they are worn by people with no fashion sense nor any sense whatsoever. How did the jeans get ripped, you fashion following slaves? Little eight year olds in third world counties armed with razor blades are paid subsistence wages to preform this odious task. And you support that usurious industry you fools.I have taken pictures of said jeans and they will decorate this post. Another fashion tragedy is stupid T-shirts with stupid messages. A photograph of one is also attached to this blog – the ‘message ’involves” bull dogs. But back to jeans for a minute. A man I know was the subject of a photo shoot in a posh magazine. My astute friend Lynne brought to my attention that in one shot he was wearing the dreaded craze. 

Lynne: Did you see that he was wearing torn jeans?

Me: Yes I did. At first I tried to ignore it. But i was unable to overlook it. It is a deal breaker.


I am grateful to Lynne as I needed to get over him anyway. When I become Mayor of Vancouver there will be a total ban on torn jeans. People will be fined for wearing them and the ordinance will be enforced by code enforcement officers. I once remonstrated a young woman for wearing torn jeans in the loo at the Trump International Hotel. She went crying to an employee who then called Security and I got in trouble. Honest to goodness. The administration of that hotel took the word of a casual visitor over me, a valued guest. In the words of a spiritual: “nobody knows the trouble I have seen.” I was brave at the time but I have never gotten over that insult. But my Uncle Dave cautioned me: “Alexis, stop fighting. Just stand on the sidelines and watch, they will do themselves in.” I think they are, I watch from afar. My ‘Sister” Adele said in a recent email: “I wouldn’t loose any sleep over it!” Great saying and one I constantly must repeat to myself. 
So it is Thanksgiving weekend and so far I am having two. Dinners that is. I am bringing an appetizer to one and much more to the other. Stay tuned. I might even share a recipe or two. All this and I can cook too.

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