It is early morning on the day I get to fly away home. It is perfectly planned. I am staying at the Sheraton Skyline so not to face a long ride to the airport. I have stayed here before, nine months ago, the night before flying back to Canada. It is fascinating to remember how distressed I was, a total mess fearing I was leaving life for a dismal future. Now, a mere nine months later, I so anticipate going home. I emailed a UK friend.
Me: The sun is not up yet – I suddenly realized that this is almost the shortest day of the year – I think it is December 21. So pretty soon things are going to start to improve. I cannot wait to get home and get in a writing and exercise routine. See my guys at the gym – blab away with my cousin every morning, rush in and hug my friends at Cafe Medina down the street. Visit my library – go to church on Sunday (the jazz program in the afternoon as well as the candle light classical one in the evening). Be worshiped at the Italian Kitchen and eat more of their pasta. Buy some new Uggs for the snow that is bound to come. I am ready to go home and then come back again. Alexis
He: No response as yet, after all I just sent it.
The bed here is huge, I take up a tiny portion of it. The sheets have an enormous thread count and they feel so luxurious. I suppose I could do breakfast in bed but I do think I may like to mingle with the folks downstairs. My breakfasts at the wondrous Pestana Hotel were so glorious. I cannot imagine having to make my own breakfasts but I suppose I will manage. I suppose a house boy would be a solution to the problem; he could make the breakfasts etc. I asked someone, saying that the pay would not be much but there would be great fringe benefits. He declined but that is ok – he would just get in the way. The apartment is certainly big enough for one person, but not for two.
I suppose when I get home there will be a slight concession to Christmas. I will buy some lights and festoon the phony tree in the dining area with lights and then go buy some tiny ornaments for the branches. Perhaps go all of the way and make a centerpiece of sorts, but that is it. I will neither give or receive presents, not even Christmas cards. I do love being a bah humbug. I teasingly wrote a friend in Vancouver.
Me:I hope you are well and anticipating the holiday season. I hate Xmas. The Cutest!
He: I dont really celebrate it anymore – mostly for kids. Should i get into the holiday season though? I feel like my spirit should be up! It is cooooold outside! how are you The Cutest?!
Me: I Love You, the World”s Most Handsome Asian Man!! We must spend Xmas together – my plans were to spend the day in bed with two hot water bottles. (See Blog) I could briefly get out of the sack and we could sit in front of my fireplace and sing Xmas carols. It would be so funny! I am fine. In London. Things not what I thought they would be, however I shall be fine. The Cutest
He: omg i am a TERRRIBLE singer!! unless you want to be deaf, then i would be happy to assist! how come things are not what you thought they would be?
Me: Earplugs is as far as I will go, not deaf even for you! It is complicated, the issue of things not being what I thought they would be. I have changed – more self confident., less tolerant of B.S. More strident. And so things are different. It was a defining moment for me – to tell a a man that he should F*** off and then include the horse he rode in on. Saying it and then not regretting it and knowing that I am the only person in his whole lifetime that will have the courage to do so. It did nothing to change him as he is reacting like a three year old – even weeks later. Anyway, I am off to meet with my computer expert – the guy that posts my blogs and did the book. I will walk across Chelsea Bridge and use my Freedom Pass on a bus. hahahaha. Honest. The Cutest.
So that ended the conversational thread. I did meet with Chris and we had the best time together. I came back on the bus and walked the other way across the Chelsea Bridge and came back to the wonderful Pestana Chelsea Bridge Hotel.
But here is the back story to the horse. So telling someone where to go and including the horse is something I say under dire circumstances, not knowing its origins. I decided to do some research into it and I came up with some answers. One person hilariously said:
Well … it’s not used for a nice purpose. I’ve always heard it used as “f**k you and the horse you rode in on.” Never in any other context. So if you want to get grammatical about it, it’s an intensifier, because sometimes a plain old “f**k you” to a person isn’t enough to get your point across. However, I’ve never heard anybody use this seriously – it sounds weirdly old-timey. I think it’s a callback to the times of the American Old West, where cowboys rode horses everywhere. The connotation might be that this person thinks themselves better or above everyone else (see: “on a high horse”).
But I think this is the definitive answer. Apparently it stems from a joke in the 1950’s. Two men are playing cards in a saloon and the Lone Ranger walks in and tells them that gambling is illegal and they must stop or be arrested.
Gambler Guy: So who are you:
Lone Ranger: I am the Lone Ranger and these are my bullets and my horse Silver
Gambler Guy: Well f**k you and the horse you rode in on.
I read somewhere else that the ultimate insult would be to add: “And the entire cavalry!” I have not gotten angry enough to say that to anyone. Yet, anyway.
On a positive note, the photograph is one taken at the Pestana Chelsea Bridge Hotel. It shows several of the Portuguese hotels within the chain. I am going there next winter, honest. I have a great plan which I shall share later.
