American politics, ducks, opera and solipsistic ramblings

This news greeted me when I arrived at work this morning: "Christine O'Donnell, considered so rightwing she is unelectable, takes 53% of vote in Republican primary." The article that follows described O'Donnell as "pro-gun, anti-abortion and believes masturbation is a sin."

I got really depressed and a bit foot-stampy and lip-curly, and then I wondered, briefly, whether if America went stupidly right, and Palin got elected, Britain would then drift away from our alleged 'special relationship' as America's poodle, and align ourselves more with Europe, which I would prefer - not that Europe is flawless or anything, but I sit more comfortably there than in the States. So perhaps it's conceivable that a shift to the far right in the US is a move away from the US for the UK. Because that would make me happy. It's probably naive and pipedreamish though. Plus, who am I kidding, even if we're not involved, a nuclear war between Iran and the US would probably have some 'mild' fallout in the UK. I'm not counting my chickens. Or my ducks.

I had a very sweet message from a nameless friend this morning saying that the duck thing yesterday was hilarious, and how could anyone be phobic of them. I feel the need, therefore, to clarify that, while duck phobias are potentially very amusing, what was funny about that particular screenshot was the advertisement placement. Either an automated ad generator threw out a very funny scenario, or someone selling ad space for the health company has a sadistic sense of humour. Anyway. Apologies to all of you who found the joke self-explanatory but clearly some of the Faithful need a little gentle nudging to experience the full comedic value of the item, and who are we to deny them?

Meanwhile, I clearly need a little gentle nudging to experience the full comedic value of MY LIFE as I am still pleasantly mulling/boohooing over my existential crisis, facing up to the fact that impressing friends, family and potential lovers has basically been my motivation for eternity, and that, without that driving force, I seem to be left with enough drive and energy to pour Coco Pops into my bowl but not much else. I went to the opera on Friday to see Cosi Fan Tutte, which confirmed that I love the Royal Opera House but don't like Mozart's operas, and then spent the interval discussing with Nick who we thought was going to win Ultimate Big Brother, a pleasingly personal rebellion against the permasnobs around us. Would that the two twunts sitting next to me had been so subtle with their disinterest - but instead they spent the entire second half kissing and frotting, despite the fact that I turned my head ninety degrees to stare at them for full minutes at a time. The man opened his eyes and clearly noted my displeasure but did not cease his whispering and giggling. It was an outrage, I tell you, especially during such a stupid opera - it's usually romantic, but this one wasn't: [SPOILER ALERT] two blonde women are in love with two men, who both are crazy about them too, but their friend says women can't be faithful, so he bets them they won't be, so the two men pretend to be called to war and the women are devastated and then LATER THAT DAY the men dress up as hippies or something, and arrive at the house and the women don't recognise them as their lovers and are totally taken in by the whole scam, and within 24 hours, both the women have said they are now in love with the new men, and the men are devastated because their women have been proved to be cheats, but their friend says 'That's the way women are', and the men reveal the 'prank' and the women are shocked but then they all still get married. HOW HILARIOUS.

Any way, despite the ridiculously unerotic plot, the snogging and whispering continued and at the end of the night I went home grumpy, randy and lonely, three of the crappest dwarves. Since then I have been at work when I'm meant to be at work, but have otherwise been in my flat watching TV and reading. It's been nice because I've been exhausted what with all the thinking I'm having to do about my Existential Crisis. And I know people will wonder why I don't just stop thinking about it, then. But it's not really a choice. I wasn't happy before except when I was buried in several feet of thick, hardset denial, and sorting out this stuff, asking these difficult questions, will hopefully lead to a bit more of a happy bunny environment in my head. More dogs on the heath than snakes in the grass. Big pink tongues - no forks.