Neat Neat Neat

Yes it’s Monday again. As if you didn’t know that already. Granted maybe you’ve just stumbled into this blog and if that’s the case, please take your shoes off and leave them in the hallway. I know everyone else has their shoes on, but they were here first and it’s a new rule. Oh don’t give me that look. It’s not like it’s Ciara’s birthday. Who’s Ciara? You got me. Just pulled it out of a hat. Maybe Ciara is just bait, or better yet, chum. We’ll see about that soon enough. But it’s Monday like I said, big whoop.

Last night Bill was here. He was exhausted and thought he was coming down with something. He plopped on the couch and after an hour he went from a sniffle to being a full blown head of mucous. Poor thing didn’t last too long after that. Not even the brownies I baked for him could keep him awake and you know he tried by eating half the pan. I didn’t like them and I figured out it wasn’t the eggs last time, it wasn’t the mixing bowl, made in China, which I threw out. No, it’s either the cooking spray I used, or quite possibly the Pillsbury brownie mix. Bill liked them enough, and like I said I didn’t.

I watched Curb Your Enthusiasm and of course felt Larry David is an asshole. A funny asshole, but an asshole nonetheless. Certainly makes me uncomfortable to watch yet I do watch every chance I can. It is like watching an R rated Seinfeld episode sometimes. Then I watched a bit of a documentary on World War 2 again. There really was nothing else on. I was waiting for the news at 11:00 and that was not worth waiting for. Not at all.

I woke up next to Bill, who’s forehead was quite warm. He wasn’t going to work today, and he sounded terrible. I had to go to work and I did my thing. Soon I was bending over the bed, checking Bill’s temperature once again, still warm. I gave him a peck on the cheek and then I was on the street recovering the building’s garbage cans which were scattered up and down the block. I don’t know if anyone would have done it if I didn’t. I do it most days anyhow and never tried to find out. Perhaps tomorrow I will.

Got into the city in no time and spotted a replica of the Taj Mahal in Bryant Park. The next few days are Indian cultural days hence the replica. I made my way to the office passing many police on most corners and big bodyguards in suits outside the various hotels I walked by. I would have taken some pictures but they were fairly intimidating. I do plan to take some tomorrow if I have the nerve. All over the east side of midtown there were police, guards and protesters.

Yellow school buses parked in front of my office building unloading hundreds of yarmulke wearing boys and girls wearing clothes that covered most of their bodies. They were all headed to Dag Hammarskjold park to protest the president of Iran coming to town and to state that Israel was not going anywhere. Forget about the displaced Palestinians, fuck them in fact. No, Israel having been set up almost 60 years ago has earned the right to bully and squash anyone who disagrees with them.

There were a few other protesters lounging about, having screamed what they wanted to say, like ’10 out of 10 terrorists recommend voting for the democrats’. Fat fucking Faux news watchers I call them. What do you call them, Ciara?

Here’s some pics.

The Taj Mahal replica