Schwarz Rot Gold

Never let it be said that I can’t make a complete ass of myself.

I walked into the lounge as chips were down in equal measure for both Sweden and Germany, and said: “I take it the ones in white black are the Germans.”

“Yes”.  You know the sort of yesssss (?) you get when people question whether you are still with it, if you ever were.

So far so fine. My intelligence doesn’t take easy offence at being questioned.

“The Swedish look like Ikea”, I offered. You know, blue and yellow.

The Angel who has known his mother from the word go didn’t flinch: “You, Mama, could be straight out of American Dad – or any program”. Then reminded me that blue and yellow are the colours of the Swedish flag. Ikea. As I said.

U

 

In the woods

 Bike Hike Babe drew my attention to Tiger Woods.

I am not familiar with the notches on his bed post. Neither do I care. What consenting people do in their free time and behind closed doors is their business. As is dealing with the emotional fall-out afterwards.

There was a time when life was simple: Wives at the ready with their wooden rolling pin on the late return of their husbands. When roles reversed, men usually just suffered in silence or, if given to temper, re-enacted Shakespeare. Now we have “Hello” magazine.

Judging by BHB’s clip poor Tiger Woods is paying through his balls for what comes natural to him. Having had  his trousers unfastened in public, his (golf) balls will now miss many a hole. I feel for the guy. Wish I were his sister. I’d have words with his wife as to emasculating her husband in full view of everyone; and give her a state of the art rolling pin as a belated wedding present, so much more useful than letting it all hang out on the playground of the media and its salviating readership.

What does the world and his wife expect from someone who swings it like him? It’s well known that testosterone levels run high in men of power and success; and power, on whichever stage, attracts groupies  only too willing to tempt with their candy. Some of my aunts and my mother are still hyperventilating since it came to light that their hero, the man who managed the Cuba Crisis and averted the threat of the Third World War, yes, the good JFK himself, availed himself of many a woman.

With power comes prowess. It’s simple. And if I had been an intern under the charming Bill  Clinton himself the only reason I would NOT have taken advantage of his attention is because I don’t touch, never have, other women’s men.

I despise women who can’t keep their mouths shut (after the event as it were). Do have sex with a married man if you must but do so with integrity and discretion instead of dropping the guy in it afterwards.

U