Tag Archives: Jock

Bloke Who Brunches, Installment #2

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It is literally DRIVING me mad. Or at least it was.

No, not the half hearted “Have a nice day” messages I get from the over worked and underpaid supermarket staff so drilled in “customer service” they sound like a monotone robot.

Nope, not even the size of printing paper over here. Printing paper? – I hear you ask. Yes, printing paper. Why can’t we have a universal size the entire world uses? Oh we do. Just everybody in the entire world except the USA. What is this 8.5″ x 11″ you talk of? You’re telling me I can’t even print out my CV (no, not a Resume) onto a glorious bit of A4? I seriously long for a bit of A4, no really, I do. I repeat, A4 paper size is the standard letter format of all countries in the entire world except the USA!!! Mr America, I know you like to be bigger, but come on, its f***ing paper.

(Although I do like the thought of Obama, at a United Nations conference, handing out the US update on the Iraq situation using his silly sized paper and Mr Cameron chuckling to himself thinking “…..even their paper is fatter than ours….!!”

Nope, not any of the above, quite simply, what is driving me mad is the actual driving out here. Not the fact you drive on the wrong side (before you kids start I am aware that 78% of the world drives on the so-called RIGHT side!) I can handle that, it’s fine, its just as a Brit I like some rules on a road.

I like to cruise along at a reasonable speed in my flat cap, listening to the Beatles, having a spiffing time, and when I see a light turn to red I slow down, apply my handbrake, and wish all the crossing pedestrians a jolly good morning. Chicagoans prefer to charge along at 50mph in a 30 mph zone, swerve across 3 lanes just to get one car ahead and upon seeing the light change red accelerate to get through it for fear the burger joint might shut (it won’t, it’s open 24 hours, everything is open 24 hours here), all the while continuously honking their horns at anyone who slightly breathes in their direction.

What’s with the horn honking over here?

I like rules. In the UK you sound your horn to warn other road users of your presence, or, just to be crazy, as an unwritten rule, sounding it to get someone’s attention. Here I just don’t get it.

My first day: Honk Honk, “Meagan, what is it, what’s he honking for? What have I missed?”

“No idea, dear”. Honk Honk.

“What now babe? Is there a ridiculously over-sized petrol guzzling vehicle trying to get past?”

“No idea, dear”. Honk Honk.

“Seriously what now?”

Meagan calmly, “Maybe they are just warning you they are there?”

Warning me?? I have got eyes and can see they are all the way over there in Lane 8 of this super highway, I’m in Lane 1, nearly 20 miles away. This is ridiculous. Honk Honk.

“OK now I’m pissed,” (sounding more American!). So I swerve across 3 lanes to give him something to really Honk Honk about, see the light has just turned red and accelerate to 50mph. “Damn I need a burger.”

My rage has past. I now drive like an American, fast, across lanes and aggressive. (OK I was a little like that before). I’ve settled into the mayhem, I no longer thank people for letting me out in traffic because no-one lets you out, you push in, with aggression. I don’t apologize for cutting people up or blocking an intersection because nobody does in Chicago. It’s just the way. Its what you do. Followed by a Honk Honk.

I no longer hear the Honk Honk’s. I join in now and again, just for fun. I pretend that each Honk Honk is the drivers way of telling the world he needs a shit, and he needs one quick so get out of his way. It makes me laugh to think that.

I have an excellent resume on crisp 8.5″ x 11″ paper. God bless America.

~Bloke who Brunches

P.S. – For all you A4 paper fans, I am aware Canada too does not use A4 paper – no surprise, they always copy the USA

P.P.S. – for my good American friend Marc over in LA, Meagan presented a Gorilla in her post, I gave you Jock the Gorilla from Bristol, now I give you Jock with a Gorilla in Uganda.

P.P.P.S. – I promise no more Gorilla’s

The Dorky Girlfriend

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Last week marked the first time this year that I watched Jock play football in his Thursday night 8-a-side team. Last year, they won the championship and I was a proud, if not slightly dorky, girlfriend, taking pictures and standing in the rain.

Last week was a bit like last year. It was cold, I shivered but I stayed. The sun was so blinding that half the players couldn’t see the ball flying in their faces. I ducked numerous times even though what I thought was the ball coming towards me was actually its shadow. The manager stood to the side, smoking his cigarettes and calling out orders to the team.

It must be a bit like a mother feels watching her child play – not that I’m comparing him to my child, because that would just be – in every way – wrong. It’s just that I love watching the man of my life doing what he loves best – and that’s out on the field with his studs (cleats), amongst his friends, tackling the ball, getting scraped up and playing football.

Perhaps its in my genes.

My mother never missed one of my games. Not one, and she was one of the rare ones. Softball in the Spring and Summer, Soccer in the Fall and Basketball in the Winter – not to mention the silly musicals I was in. I was non-stop, and she was always there. Surprisingly, not many other mothers were – something that always baffled her and me.

Perhaps that’s why I take such pride in watching Jock.

I have to admit, a part of me feels slightly embarrassed that I try to go to every game – as if I shouldn’t be so thrilled to watch him, as if I should still play hard to get, as if I need to pretend that I don’t care as much. My embarrassment I find infuriating – surely we should enjoy every moment we have with our loved ones. But, I pick up on a slightly annoyed feeling that what I’m doing isn’t cool.

Where does that come from?

I’m the only girlfriend who sits there, and maybe its that – sitting alone on the field…

But I realize we won’t be living in this country much longer and he won’t be playing with the boys he’s been playing with for the past twelve years….well, maybe, ever again. I do love it.

This year is easier than last year. At least the boys are used to the random girl stalking her boyfriend on the edge of the field, taking pictures and grinning widely. I’m sure no one else looks at me the way I think they might, but I can’t help but wonder…is it those high school days trying to be cool coming back to haunt?

Anyway, I guess I’m just one of those girls who is unable to feign disinterest. I never learned that trick. I’m always too interested.

Do you feel like its best not to show too much interest in your man? If you do, is that a fear that if you show too much interest, they lose interest?

Or do you try to take in every moment?

Just thinking…