I have hired a Vancouver company to do an analysis of my phenomenal popularity. They reported that in the last thirty days I have had 2,710 visitors making 11,666 visits. What does all of that mean? What is it all about Alfie? Who knows. It boggles my mind. So apparently an analysis can show where my public resides which is a big question considering my move from London to Canada. Then I guess I need to think about what I am going to do now that this blog appears to have taken on a life of its own.
Some of you may be wondering what is happening with the gym and why this had not been a topic of conversation. Well, it is because my hottie personal trainer did a man thing. Countless times this has happened to me. I get sort of attached to some guy and then they do a disappearing act. So the hottie Robert (hahaha, that is not his real name) suddenly announces that he is going off to the UK for six days. What? I am in a routine that centers upon him and off he goes. He left me with exercises and a plan but without him I was nothing. Her returned, now I am back in the swing of things. We train outside on good days. I took him by to show him off to many at the Trump International Hotel. So he met Triple C.
Hottie: How do you do. Where are you from?
Triple C. North Hampton
Me: (sputtering) O my goodness! I forgot Triple C. was from England.
Hottie: You told me that I was the only man from England that was in your life.
Me: I guess I lied. I forgot that Triple C, was from there.
We all about died laughing at the preposterousness of this. Then it was off to the stairs, leg extensions, stand up, sit down etc. etc. At the time I was really mad at a certain individual in my life but it certainly fueled the exercise program. Hottie was amazed at my vigor. Men – can’t live with them, can’t live without them. One man wisely said of the fight: Clearing the air is all very well but not so good if it also clears the decks. That was quite profound.
But speaking of men Triple C. proved last week that he is not just a pretty face. Some intellectual man suggested that I might be aiming too high and reminded me of wise words from Ovid. (I do think that he was raining on my parade, another colloquial saying.)
Me: So this guy from the UK is telling me a tale from Ovid, intimating that I am aiming too high.
Triple C: Yes, it was Icarus. He flew to close to the sun which melted the wax of his wings and he fell to the earth.
Me: I am so impressed that you knew that. I am even stunned by your knowledge.
Triple C. See! I am not just a pretty face.
Here is the real thing:
Icarus began to feel the joy
of beating wings in air and steered his course
beyond his fathers leads ; all the wide sky
was there to tempt him as he steered towards heaven
meanwhile the heat of the sun struck his back
and where his wings were joined , sweet smelling fluid ran hot that once was wax . his naked arms
Whistled into the winds, his lips still calling out
His fathers name were gulfed in the dark sea
began to feel the joy
of beating wings in air and steered his course
beyond his fathers leads ; all the wide sky
was there to tempt him as he steered towards heaven
meanwhile the heat of the sun struck his back
and where his wings were joined , sweet smelling fluid ran hot that once was wax . his naked arms
Whistled into the winds, his lips still calling out
His fathers name were gulfed in the dark sea
I think this may have happened to me, the feathers fell off and down I went. It is very eerie. Icarus drowned, My Uncle Dave drowned. I think this is the anniversary of his death. Perhaps not a good day for me to go to the jacuzzi, or the pool.
I suppose this is a day when I will be aiming high. For some strange and unusual reason it appears that I shall be lunching with the Emperor. He wrote me an email:
Emperor:Is it true is it true is it true???
Me:What? If it came from my lips yes. Why do you ask, you fool?
Emperor: Haha…No the we have a lunch date tomorrow. I am soo exited
Me: Me too. Reservations are for 12:30 but I am sure that you will be late as usual.
I have never had lunch with the Emperor. I ran into this person on the street and this whole thing evolved. I wonder what one wears when having lunch with the Emperor? New clothes? Hahahaha.
The picture is of my hand with a free parking stamp imprinted upon it. I think it was Triple C.’s idea. He said I should go to the Front Desk and show them my hand.
Me: Park Me, please
S. Yes Ms. McBride. How many stalls do you wish?
Me: Three please.
All of this, and even more, happened yesterday. How will I ever return to a normal life?
