Recommended wine for today’s entry: Easy. A chilled glass of white Santorini wine from the Boutari winery on the island of the same name. I am going to pour myself a glass, close my eyes and look out over the Aegean Sea to bring back memories of that wonderful trip. Santorini is, according to the Boutari Web site, a “defunct volcanic caldera. The island’s loam soil is characteristically dry — this in combination with Santorini’s microclimate, provides Boutari Santorini with its minerals and citrusy characteristics.” Cheers!
I have been getting a lot of attention since I became a blogger. While I’m thinking about it, don’t you hate the word “blogger?” It sounds like a combination of the sound you make when you throw up and the word “booger,” which is a perfectly good word but not what I want to use when referencing my latest venture.
Anyway, I am getting a near-constant barrage of comments that are being automatically sent to my Spam pile just because they are in Greek. What if it’s someone really important, like a Greek wine company that wants to sponsor my site? Is it their fault that they can only write in Greek? Or what if it’s one of those hot Greek guys like on Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants … or one of the super-hot Greek guys that I ogled when we were there two years ago? My husband, who sometimes says snippy, bitchy things when I talk about Greek guys that are 20 years younger than me (or about Ashton Kutcher), said that anyone who saw me in Greece wouldn’t send me a message. But he wouldn’t know. He was gawking like a fourth-grader at the sophisticated Europeans who discarded their bikini tops for sunbathing at our pool.
And besides, I looked really thin over there. So what if it was because we had just hiked two miles up a black sand volcano in 113 degrees and I was so dehydrated that you could count all my ribs? Some guys think that’s sexy. Like Ashton, I bet. So my husband can just shut up.
Anyway, I would like to know what these Greek people are saying and why they send me comments EVERY DAY. I wish I had paid more attention to the language; all I can really translate are sorority and fraternity names.
But the comment board is open, so those of you, my other six loyal fans, who wish to make your voice heard – please do! English is fine. Not nearly as romantic or thought-provoking, but if it’s the best you can do, have at it. I’d love to hear from you. Or send me your funny stories – I’ll give you credit, I swear. Just send them to firstname.lastname@example.org. You can be my guest bloggers. I still hate that word.
Which leads me to a word I saw or heard the other day, one I plan to incorporate into my every day vocabulary because it is my favorite word ever … GOBSMACKED. Is that not the greatest word in the world? It’s British – can’t you just picture Princess Diana, in her perfectly tailored suit, blushing a little and covering her mouth slightly, saying “Oh, my gosh, I was just totally … gobsmacked last night!” OK, you dumb know-it-alls, I know that it really means like dumbstruck, but doesn’t it sound like a great new synonym for drunk? I’m officially going to retire the old ones: blasted, tanked, pickled, toasted … all dull. From now on, let’s start a movement to make gobsmacked the new wasted!
Well, as you can see, there wasn’t really a topic for today’s rant. I just needed a good stream-of-consciousness purge of some of the higher level thoughts that have been bashing around in my head, leaving me unable to focus on the trying tasks I perform daily, like folding the laundry and vacuuming.
Thank you for listening … or reading … or skimming. Now let’s all go get GOBSMACKED!