just a sec, I'll be right there!

Umm, yes! I'm still alive! Life is kinda...full, and I just haven't had time, exactly. Job + former job + sick husband + school + houseguest = not blogging. Who knew?

Coming Soon to a Blog Near You: incoherent ranting about the German Mommy Wars. I've been thinking about it a lot, but haven't gotten around to writing it down yet.

Song du jour: Bonus Track 1, by Lyle Lovett. It doesn't seem to have a name, how very, um...PoMo.

Sisters of Mercy concert

Well that was really fun! There was so much dry ice you couldn't see more than a few hazy now-you-see-it, now-you-don't silhouettes up there - could've been anybody, really, except that nobody else has a voice like that. But I really enjoyed the show, particularly laughing at the people with cel-phone cameras, taking pictures of the different colors of fog because there really wasn't much else visible onstage. I was also laughing at me, trying to maintain my dour gothy dignity while grinning like a chimpanzee. DrBob was much more dignified, but I bet he didn't have as much fun as I did. Heeee.

Also, I see a business opportunity here. If you could get hold of some rhythm wholesale, I could sell it outside concert venues here in Munich. These people need it desperately, so demand would be huge, especially among skinny girls with big hair and too much eyeliner.

Song du jour of the day: This Corrosion, of course. What else?

the parents meet with the kid's therapist

Eeeerg. Well that was hair-raising. DrBob and I have had numerous conversations about his relationship with Ignatz, and what needs to change (DrBob's answer is always that Ignatz needs to change), and I have been completely unable to get my point across. That is, he hears me, he simply chooses to ignore the possibility that I might be right. So my evil side was quite looking forward to the therapist telling him the same things I've been saying for all these years, to wit: you are an adult and he is a child and it is unrealistic to expect him to do all the work in this relationship. Which she did tell him, today. Hee hee. However. I was not expecting her to do it with me sitting right there. God, I wanted to hide under my chair.

DrBob appears not to have gotten the message yet.

Song du jour of the day is, um, I Don't Want to Grow Up, by Tom Waits.

Yes. I am boring.

Because the DVD-rental place is about to close down, I'm renting DVDs lately. Yesterday there were three: Big Fish, where one character had a fair bit in common with my dad; the Lemony Snicket thing, about some orphans; and De-Lovely, about musicals, of which my mom and I were/are both huge fans. So I didn't actually set out to rent DVDs that would remind me of my dead parents, it just sort of happened that way. And by the end of the day I was um, pretty pensive and not feeling much like writing.

Today no DVDs. Which is stupid, because time is running out! Also, it's not like I did anything else useful today. I did get a phone call from the new webmaster, though, about a problem with uploading new stuff. Tomorrow's the Sisters of Mercy concert (woot!) so I'll be in the city anyway, so I'm going to go see him and help him try to sort it out. It's just too bad I can't be all Schadenfreud-y, though - hah! They need me after all! - because I really like the new webmaster and can't find it in me to wish him any misfortune. Hell, he has my old job, that's misfortune enough right there.

Which is terribly unprofessional of me to say, isn't it? Especially after they already got miffed at me for being um... excessively candid? Remind me not to tell any prospective employers that I blog.

Such a sad, pathetic, half-assed entry. I should be talking about the German mommy wars, since I'm right here in it, but I have to organize my thoughts first. I still have the Newsweek article about it, and have been wanting to point out the key, crucial point that Newsweek missed. And of course I have all kinds of thoughts about how it ties into so many current problems and ultimately points to a single fact: the world's economists desperately need to be lined up and shot. Quick, before they do even more damage.

Or about books! It really is just a weird coincidence, I totally didn't do it on purpose, but right around Easter I read/am reading both "The Big Over Easy" and "The Hollow Chocolate Bunnies of the Apocalypse." Isn't that weird?

Oh, and we're seeing Ignatz's therapist tomorrow. Should be interesting.

Foggy brain

I can't think anymore. I read three things today which seemed totally unrelated, but seen in the light of eachother, threw up some very interesting connections. But it had to do with the current political situation in the U.S., which is so dense and complicated and rife with assumptions that I don't really have the language to question, that I can't articulate the point I wanted to make, even though I spent most of the evening writing about it. They're here, and here, and here, if you want to try to see what I saw. If you don't want, hey, I understand.

DrBob is an academic, and therefore, basically, a professional arguer. You would think that hanging out with someone like that would be a good way to sharpen your own arguing skills, but it hasn't worked that way for me. My avoidance skills have improved immensely, but my arguing muscles have atrophied. I got in a discussion over Michael Moore with a friend a few weeks ago, and found myself floundering when he started putting words in my mouth - insisting that I was making a point I had no intention of making. I'm so easily confused lately.

Oh yes, and poor DrBob? Look, I'm trying not to be superficial here, but ick. Maybe if he hadn't insisted on showing me his stitches...

Song du jour of the day: Jerk It Out. Caesars.

ho hum

Wow, well I've been really busy, but with all boring stuff like homework. Also, while I was being busy with boring stuff, my house went and got dirty again. Still scratching my head over that one.

I think I'm disoriented because I was really too busy to pay any attention to the holiday, but it happened anyway, with the attendant two weeks' vacation for my kids. Our routine is shot to hell, and all this stuff I've been up to has not fit into any kind of framework, it's just one thing happening after another, which feels chaotic. Especially since I haven't been using my calendar.

DrBob is feeling better, thanks for all your well-wishing. He's feeling a bit too better, if you ask me. He actually wanted to go play soccer yesterday, on the same day as he had surgery. And if you think this is a buncha middle-aged guys tottering around the park at dusk, you're only half-right. Some of them do that, but DrBob comes home every friday with something horrible - a bruised rib last week, about six gashes on his shin the week before where someone with cleats landed on him repeatedly, a hernia last year - for DrBob, soccer is a blood sport. I had a helluva time talking him out of it. And now he's all...um, frisky. He's got a face like a catcher's mitt and he wants to get it on. Jeez. I'm having trouble thinking up diplomatic ways to say 'no effing way'.

that was horrible

but at least it's over now. And DrBob's upper lip is a bit swollen (he looks like a Simpson), so at least there's some humor to be had from the situation.

Now let us pause for a brief interlude of uncontrollable sobbing.

I'll get back to you.

a theme-park and a pity-party

We went to Legoland today! For the last time, because it's kind of a pain in the butt, especially for something you have to drive two hours to get to. We bought year-passes last year, and they're just about to expire so we had to get in one last visit and it was okay. I got a face full of sun, and the kids always remember the having fun bit, and not the standing in line forever bit, so I guess that's a good thing, but it's so dreadfully expensive, and the food is so bad, and the shows are stupid and there are only like seven rides so we've really been-there-done-that. So all right. Enough is enough.
___________________

Okay, do not read past this point. Seriously. I mean it, there is major dental ickiness ahead, and you do not want any part of it. Unless you enjoyed Elemmaciltur's "gross yucky wisdom teeth update" etc. postings, in which case read on. Have a ball. Also, seek therapy.

All right, you've been warned.

DrBob woke up with a toothache Tuesday morning. What it turned out to be, is that when a tooth was removed, 20 years ago, a bit must have been left behind, and now it's infected and will turn into a cyst if it doesn't get fixed. And what he has now is a metal plate in his upper jaw, from which a metal spike extends, and the replacement-tooth is screwed onto that spike. And the infection is up above the plate, so he needs a surgeon to cut his face open to fix it.

Right, so first, anything dental gives me serious heebie-jeebage. I hate anyone messing around with my teeth, cringe at any description of dental squickiness (no, I did not read Elemmaciltur's wisdom teeth posts, and many thanks El for the nice clear titles that enabled me to steer away from what is for me a very touchy subject), I also hate driving, and hate getting up early, and I have to drive him to his 8:00 appointment in Landshut, which is total street-spaghetti, tomorrow morning. And from there we go straight to Munich and work, which means I have to be up and in office drag and ready to go tomorrow at 7:00, cool my heels in a dental surgery office for however long it takes, and then drive to Munich with my drug- and pain-addled husband, whose method of navigating even when he's healthy sounds like this: "Aaaand that's where you should have turned."

Vicarious pain, a case of the creeps, panic, confusion and probably hostility, all before 10 a.m.? I just don't see a down-side here.

oh, should I have clarified that?

In response to the boob-thing, Kelly said

um, what?

Uh, yeah. What, is that not normal? We're at the FIL's birthday party with his five still-living siblings and their assorted wives, and someone comments to my MIL that both her daughters-in-law are so thin. SIL's not there, so all the focus is on me, nd Aunt Leni says I could use another ten pounds, here and here (no I didn't slap her hand away, I was amused), and my MIL says no, her (meaning my) boobs are surprisingly big, given the rest of her, and Aunt Sophie tells me to be glad they're not bigger enough to be a nuisance, and I guess that's where we left it. DrBob seemed to think it was a Bavarian thing, I just figured that relatives get, um, earthier as they age. Hey, I was just glad to be included in the conversation, since I usually don't understand what's going on at all. I think the whole thing was a hoot, and another reason to be glad I married into a big family.

Happy Birthday FIL

After eleven years as Mrs.Dr.Bob, I was finally able to correctly identify all of the FIL's brothers this year. Give me another eleven years, and I'll be able to figure out which wife is whose.

I should really make an effort to learn the wives, since they were the ones talking about my boobs today.

and another thing...

Happy Easter, y'all.

Yes meme, no meme

Um, Thursday: worked, since Friday's a holiday.

Friday: Cleaned the house and then went to see the friends with the new baby, the one I made that stripey-sweater for. Got very little baby face-time, as she decided to be sick for the first time in her whole three weeks of life. Drat.

Saturday: made an ER model for the recipe database. Yes, it took all day. I'm a dork.

So as I have been dull and dutiful, I have no stories for you. Fortunately Kelly tagged me for a meme. Don't know what I'd do without her.

The Rules
1. You can only say YES or NO!
2. You are NOT ALLOWED to explain ANYTHING unless someone messages you and asks!

Taken a picture naked? Yes
Made out with a member of the same sex? Yes
Danced in front of your mirror? Yes
Told a lie? Yes
Gotten in a car with people you just met? Yes
Been in a fistfight? No
Had feelings for someone who didn't have them back? Yes
Been arrested? No
Left your house without telling your parents? Yes
Ditched school to do something more fun? Yes
Slept in a bed with a member of the same sex? Yes
Seen someone die? Yes
Kissed a picture? Yes
Slept in until 3? Yes
Laid on your back and watched cloud shapes go by? Yes
Played dress up? Yes
Fallen asleep at work/school? Yes
Felt an earthquake? Yes
Touched a snake? No
Ran a red light? No
Had detention? Yes
Been in a car accident? Yes
Pole danced? No
Been lost? Yes
Sang karaoke? No
Done something you told yourself you wouldn't? Yes
Laughed until something you were drinking came out your nose? No
Caught a snowflake on your tongue? Yes
Kissed in the rain? Yes
Sang in the shower? Yes
Got your tongue stuck to a pole? No
Ever gone to anywhere partially naked? Yes
Sat on a rooftop? Yes
Played chicken? No
Been pushed into a pool with all your clothes on? No
Been told you're hot by a complete stranger? Yes
Broken a bone? No
Mooned/flashed someone? No
Forgotten someone's name? Yes
Slept naked? Yes
Blacked out from drinking? Yes
Played a prank on someone? No
Felt like killing someone? Yes
Made a parent cry? Yes
Cried over someone? Yes
Had sex more than 5 times in one day? Yes
Had/Have a dog? Yes
Been in a band? No
Drank 25 sodas in a day? No
Shot a gun? No

So how'd it go?

Okay, the word for the day is scalable. That means that the lessons I plan should still work okay even if only two students show up. Use it in a sentence: Today's lesson was not scalable.

Yeah. Two students.

Okay okay okay, Two were out sick, and it is Easter vacation, and one is unable to make Wednesdays. We are negotiating to move it to Tuesdays.

Song du jour? Oh, I don't know, something e-e-evilll...

Rockin' good news

So my friend Melanie (who has like a million degrees and certificates in Dealing With Kids Who Have Trouble Behaving) read that post about Ignatz suddenly recovering from an eleven-year ADD jag, and emailed me this:

So, I have a theory. He's 12? 11? Fascinating brain stuff usually happens at that age, including an increased ability to process info (more info at once and faster) AND an increased ability to screen out extraneous crap and focus on what you need to think about. Perhaps the balance just tipped, ie. his brain development caught up with his attention problems. You know all this already, but it was on my mind. Wondering also if he ever came up with an explanation for the change, if so what? I will be really surprised if he could explain it, but if he could - how fascinating!

No, he couldn't explain it, but even so, how totally does that theory WOCK? So that's the one I've decided to go with, because that would mean it's a permanent change, which woot!

Also, I'm teaching again tonight. Someday that thought won't make me panic, right? Please?

Oh, song (virus) du jour of the day: Stay, by Lisa Loeb.

Birthday shout-out!

Everybody go over and give a big ol' birthday SMOOCH to Kelly, who thinks she's turning 34, or maybe 35 ... she's not sure which birthday it is, but it's definitely today! Woot! Happy birthday babe! (Okay, now watch me turn out to have gotten the day wrong, how embarrassing would that be?)

Song du jour of the day, totally ganked from Raindog's blog: Happy Birthday to Me, by the Vandals. Only don't read all the words, okay?

Oh! Also...

I was over at Bumblebee Sweet Potato today - this is one of the blogs I read because I wish I could write like that, and also because I think I might could write like that if I just put more time and thought into it, which means maybe someday I will. When I don't have to hustle so much, like. Not only that, I really, really admire her politics, especially how she gets out there and lives them instead of staying home and thinking them and making excuses, which is what I do.

So anyway, she has this entry called "why we write", which mentions teenage journals and which prompted me to comment that reading my teenage journals makes me cringe. That's exactly the word I used, cringe. And then, almost the next thing I did (the very next thing was to go to Crouching Mommy, Hidden Laundry and see that there was nothing new since yesterday, but the next thing I did after that) was find this via Dooce, and lo! There in the sidebar! The very. same. word.

Perhaps the universe speaks to us through coincidences. Maybe, instead of boring you with Eurovision trivia, I should out some of my teenaged self-absorption (it really is a miracle, and possibly proof of the existence of God, that I didn't actually implode - that's how self-absorbed I was) for you all to laugh at. Hm.

Or maybe I'll just pretend that the mildew ate my journals, since they've been stored in the basement for three years. Actually, I haven't looked at them lately, so that could be true.

monday monday

Cool! Tony's reviewed one of my current favorite bands! And they're touring the States! Robert and I saw them in Munich in January and they were great. Do go see them if you get the chance. And, you know, if you like shouty-punk.

So of course, the song du jour of the day is Art Brut's Good Weekend ("I've seen her naked TWICE!"). Drat these frames and flashes and whatnot, I can't link directly to it, but if you click on "Releases" at the bottom of the screen and then click the play button, you can hear it.

In other news, I'm supposed to be planning my next English class (our theme will be Cars - I'm hoping to spark a discussion around an email I received on rising gas prices in the U.S.) and it needed to be today so that DrBob could print out the class materials at the office for me. Except his University-supplied computer (remind me to rant about German universities and computers one of these days) is having Issues, so I get another day to freak out over this. Um, yay?

absent

Hi all. Worked all day Friday and brought home a houseguest, so I'll be pretty scarce this weekend. Look for me on Monday.

Song du jour of the day is Tom Waits's Tango Till They're Sore. They take apart their nightmares and they leave them by the door...

more meme-itude

Oh, right! When I can't think of anything to write about, I meme! How could I forget?

Thirteen Things I should be doing instead of blogging
1. Get off my butt and exercise.
2. Finish my week 2 homework.
3. Do the reading for week 2.
4. Do the reading for week 1.
5. Plan next week's English lesson.
6. Train giant bats to fetch things for me.
7. Clean off my desk.
8. Set everything out for tomorrow so I don't spend the morning rushing around like a lunatic
9. Get the winter stuff back out. I put it away on the first warm day, and then it snowed again.
10. Wash my hair.
11. Get to work on the recipe database I promised Kelly a month or so ago.
12. Get to work on the publications database I promised DrBob over a year ago.
13. Mend a bunch of Ignatz's old jeans before they're too small for the Sniglet.

Get the Thursday Thirteen code here!

View More Thursday Thirteen Participants

via the Goober Queen

boring. sorry.

Well, today would be the day where I restore perspective on the whole English class thing, and point out that I didn't get hit by a bus so it could be worse and all that. But I'm still feeling crappy so instead I'm doing my infuriating homework.

A major part of our parenting philosophy when the boys were babies was "He's crying anyway". Which means that when they had tantrums we'd take the opportunity to do some hated but necessary task like toothbrushing, hair washing, nail clipping, or whatever, because why ruin a good mood? Pretty clever, huh? And that's not even one of the Top Ten reasons we are rotten parents, it's probably down around number 16. Anyway, taking off my Hypocrite Mama hat today to apply the same philosophy to myself: as long as I feel like hell anyway, I might as well get one useful thing...um, a little closer to done.

And that's about all. Ho-hum.

Song du jour of the day: R.E.M. What's the Frequency Kenneth?

It's all about the hate today

Normally I don't post on the first day of my period because I never have anything positive to say. Everything hurts and I feel like shit, tra-la-la. But today was also my first English conversation class, which I feel was a disaster, because I ran out of stuff to do before the time was up. The students didn't notice (or perhaps they were just too polite to say so - they're Bavarians, not Germans) because I managed to vamp for 15 minutes by asking getting-to-know-you questions, but that is not a tactic that will work for more than three classes or so. And I think I'll have to teach more than that. Once a week until we move away? Yeah, that's more than three.

Also? It snowed today.

So today's song du jour of the crappy day should be Let the Cool Goddess Rust Away, by Clap Your Hands Say Yeah. Because feh.

Ignatz. Ritalin.

Ummm, turns out, not so much. Can't think why I haven't posted about this, because I've talked to several people about it, but he's gotten...better. Somehow. For the last oh, five or six weeks he's been nicer to his brother, doesn't lose things as often, doesn't scream about having to do chores, doesn't forget stuff...as much. There've been no letters or phone calls from exasperated teachers. I mean, he's still disorganized or forgetful or grouchy from time to time, but all kids are, sometimes. He's just reduced it to a normal level.

Now, if you don't believe ADHD exists at all, go away. This post is not for you and I'm tired of arguing that point. This was not a hallucination, or just a phase he was going through, or two selfish yuppies unable to cope with a kid acting like a kid. He was a weird kid from birth, and he was weird for eleven years. LOTS of letters home from teachers. Lots of conflict with his parents and brother. Lots of weirdness in his friendships, lots of bizarre little habits. Daily or weekly incidents, somewhat-normal behavior but with abnormal frequency. We got him diagnosed at a clinic, even got our insurance to agree that there was a problem. There really was a problem.

And now? Poof. It's gone. And I'm...not sure how to feel about that. I mean, yay! This is so great! He's doing better! Not perfect, but really better, and I'm very proud of him. But we don't know why, so we have no idea how long it will last. I've asked him, and he doesn't know why either. We can't identify any kind of triggering incident or anything. So, um, happy! But also apprehensive. A bit.

So now there's no point to trying the Ritalin, because the behavior he's showing now is exactly my best-case-for-Ritalin scenario, wherein he keeps his personality intact but just has his shit together a little better. If we gave it to him now, how would we even know if it worked?

Today's song du jour of the day, then, is in honor of my brilliant firstborn: Aerosmith. Amazing.

Mild irk

I don't think sports is necessarily a guy-thing, though that's how I was raised: Dad and Brother watched televised sports at every opportunity, and Mrs Dad and I read books. I didn't get into sports until I was a grown-up (well, 18), and I'm still not really a big sports-head. I'll watch football, soccer, rugby, basketball or ice hockey anytime they're on, but that's about it. And I just watch, I don't memorize, or even bother to understand, the statistics part. And I was reminded recently (argh, where?) of a point Noam Chomsky made in Manufacturing Consent, how men's ability to memorize sports statistics, and women's ability to keep track of their calorie intake, show that ordinary people can certainly grasp complex ideas and keep track of many tiny details, thus suggesting that economics/politics/globalization/all that crap is not really over our heads, as Those In Charge prefer to pretend.

Anyway. A small digression there. I agree with the overall point, but I brought it up because I wanted to look at this side point: men, sports statistics; women, food statistics? Is this a fair generalization? I mean, some men count calories and some women follow league tables, but as a general rule, do these things tend to shake down along gender lines? Because I'm confronted with an assumption, by a guy, that I should know this stuff, and I'm wondering if he assumes too much or if my knowledge is really deficient.

To clarify: yet again, a (male) database teacher has assigned some kind of sports-database, clearly assuming that all his students will know enough about sports statistics to do this, because he hasn't provided any supplemental information - they never do. And I'm fairly certain a female database teacher wouldn't assign an E-R diagram for cataloging lipstick or tracking a shoe collection, at least not without some clarification on the sort of information she would expect to be stored. So once again, I am annoyed that the default setting is "guy" and that I am some kind of special interest, and am expected to adapt to someone else's definition of normal.

Of course I realize I am a member of more default-groups than special groups, and it is equally thoughtless to assume everyone is straight, white, and computer-literate, to name the first few things that leap to mind. I tend not to notice those assumptions as quickly, because they don't trip me up, but I still recognize that they are unfair and create a kind of pressure that can get really old really fast.

I also realize that this is a trivial problem - the sports-database thing, not the bossy-dominant-culture thing. I'm just taking a moment to be annoyed at how often guys insist on controlling the dialog without even knowing that they're doing it. (Which of course they would say absolves them from all responsibility - after all, they're not doing it on purpose, so they should be allowed to ignore its effects ... and we should continue to accommodate them.)

Yes, lots and lots of stuff is going into this post, some of it trivial and some quite profound, but I've already gone on for too long. I'll do the assignment and all, but I will be peeved about it. Because it's my blog, and I can.

Song du jour of the day: Don't Call Me Baby, by Voice of the Beehive.

um...

Rented Hitch today. Cute, charming, mildly funny, um, tool of the patriarchy but whatever. I enjoyed it anyway. You know, I really don't ask for a lot in a movie. Minimal gore, dialog that is other than turgid (yes George Lucas I am talking to you), and don't ever threaten a child, and you've pretty much got three stars from me.

Also, just because I took the Seahawks logo down, does not mean I don't love them anymore. Verily, I do. But the traffic-hazard lilacs in our yard are just about to bloom, and I want them to know that they are welcome! And they should please hurry up!

(Uh, yeah. The, uh, lilacs... read my... blog. Sure...)

Oh! Song! Du Jour! Of the Day! Luno, by Bloc Party. The intro totally reminds me of New Order. It's just me, right? Yeah, probably.

Just stuff

Reviews of movies you either saw years ago or never had any interest in. Pretty thrilling, huh? I know, I know...I keep trying to be all virtuous and Write Something Every Day, but dudes, I'm not Shakespierce. Single + fabulous + intelligent sports fan + intelligent music fan + living in L.A. = lots to write about. Married + middle-aged + suburban + housewife + datamonkey + kitschgeek = not so much.

So anyway, I rented I Heart Huckabees yesterday. My veteran readers (that means Kelly, pretty much) will remember that we joined some Netflix-like thingy awhile back, but that turned out to suck so we quit. Last month, I think. There's another place I'd been meaning to check out, where you get a card and then check out dvds from a machine, and I finally got around to signing up on Friday, which is a bit on the lame-o side because they're closing down at the end of the month, because it's not profitable enough. Oh well, at least I get movies for a month. A month during which I have time. The MySQL/PHP class I'm taking will be mostly review for me for the next few weeks, and then I'll hit the wall in May sometime. Looking forward to it!

Digress much? Okay, here's my review: I liked it. It made me laugh. But I have a hard time imagining anyone but me liking it, so it was really, really nice of David O. Russell and Lily Tomlin and Dustin Hoffman and Mark Wahlberg and Isabelle Huppert and all to make a movie just for me.

Rachel's keeping up with the Duke rape story. I'm pointing you to her because I probably won't be writing much more on it (doesn't mean I'm not reading and thinking about it), and I think she and Tiffany are doing an excellent job. A few guys in the comments sections, whose agendas I haven't bothered to investigate, think that they (so okay, then, we) are not being suitably objective, but um ... well.

Oh and spring has arrived! Happy happy, joy joy! Also, it's about frickin' time!

Song du jour of the day: Terrible Angels, by CocoRosie. Speaking of stuff that's too weird for anyone but me to like. "If you'll provide the birdbath, then I'll provide the skin..."

Okay, I've been bad.

I called in sick to work because DrBob took the car to Munich Thursday night so I would have had to either walk to the train station or ask Mrs Next Door to drive me there (with her brand-new tiny baby) and then I would have been on the train, which is its own kind of excruciating. Okay, I'm blithering. Upshot = I'm better than I was, but still too sick to take on the kind of activity that getting to work and doing my job would have required. And now it's late and I better get to bed, but I haven't blogged today, so I'm gonna fob you off with another annoying Eurovision retrospective.

Ah, the one and only Cliff Richard. He sang Congratulation for England in 1968. Didn't win, but it was a massive hit in Britain anyway. And I could forgive this song if it were like 1952, because they didn't know any better then. But 1968? He was sort of the "Elvis of England" (i.e., about that famous), which honestly? Makes me kind of sad. We got Elvis, they got Cliff (who later sang the Lord's Prayer to the tune of Auld Lang Syne, in public, for which he is surely going to Hell), and they still think they are culturally superior to us.

Of course, that last snarky sentence can be contradicted into oblivion with two little words. They rhyme with Flonty Squython. Hey, I never claimed to be consistent.