Hooray!

Aw, come on: I know that people in the foothills love to complain about Armenians, but that's overexposure talking. Like my paternal grandfather and his fixation with Mexicans.

In truth, I adore Armenians and want to read up on the Turkish slaughter so I can get really mad. Maybe I'll learn Armenian, if it isn't too hard. Or if it's hard enough to cover up for my lack of ability with any non-English language.

And, yeah: lot of nouveau riche Armenian-Americans have a penchant for Big, almost Sovietesque architecture. And some of the men are a bit retro in their attitudes toward females. (Case in point: the carpet-installer who had to be told that the client had been promised her yummy sand-colored wall-to-wall before the move on Monday [Tuesday latest], and therefore he pretty much had to man up and get my carpet installed within two days, whether he wanted to or not.)

But in truth there's no one in the world with a perfect aesthetic regarding buildings, other than me. And there are only ten or fifteen men in this entire country with Just the Right Amount of Machismo, such that they would be entitled to buy me a plate of pasta—with lashings of red wine—for lunch. (Women? Good question. Perhaps eight in the 50+ states in the Union. With girls I tend to go for breakfast/brunch fare: If you offer me eggs benedict and a Mimosa or two I will listen to anything you have to say--with rapt attention.

Even if it's about the Turks.

Posted by: Attila Girl at 11:02 PM | No Comments | Add Comment
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