Monday, June 18, 2012

Me and Ahmad What's-his-name

I’m dating a cute Iranian Dictator!

One side of an IM exchange:

June 17, 2012

Hi Sadie

Guess what?  I’m dating a cute Iranian Dictator I met on Match.com.  Well, cyber dating so far, as he is in Iran and I am in New Jersey. LOL!  I’m sure you know the one I mean, Ahmad... something?  I call him Ami. He calls me Blashinka.  He’s a sweetie-pie.  I know what you’re thinking. “Girlfriend, what are you nutz? He’s a dictator for cryin’ out loud!”

I hear you, all right. But a woman of my age and dimensions can’t be too picky. Know what I mean?  And sure he’s a dictator and I guess he has some nasty habits. But, Girlfriend, he’s cute!  Seriously! Though I think he dyes his hair, but who doesn’t?  Oh, is this TMI? Sorry. There’s more. He’s funny.  I mean it, he makes me laugh. And that twinkle in his eye, and it’s not just his Match.com picture either; the dude’s been on TV!  You’ve seen him, I know you have, in his uniform with the lock of hair falling over one eye. Seriously cute, am I right?  Admit it, you think he’s cute.

And he has a story.  He’s an up by the bootstraps guy. Did you know that? I thought not. You’re prejudiced like everyone else. Probably think he was born into wealth like a king or something. He’s an engineer, Girlfriend!  Had to work his way up from the slums of Iran.  Sure he’s tough and ran with a bad crowd, but you know I’ve got a weakness for the bad boys. Remember Jim Bob Gorfman in eighth grade?  Whoa. The things we did. Don’t even get me started. I heard from him last year, did I tell you? Right after he got out of Lompac.  Well, he’s gone now, rest his soul; you didn’t read about the heist that went bad? Well, you don’t stick up a bank with a starter’s pistol, let me tell you.  Some called it suicide by cop, but I know Jim Bob wasn’t the brightest bulb on the tree. I don’t blame the police. What are they going to do when someone’s starts shooting up the place, and everybody screaming and all?  How could they know it was just a toy gun?

Now, Ami is smart.  You don’t get to be President of a major nuclear power, without being pretty sharp in the brains department. And that’s what he is, not really a dictator at all!  He was duly elected by democratic vote more than once.  And don’t start in with all that corruption stuff either.  Look at what goes on right here in the good old US of A. Were you not paying attention to the last few elections?  Hello, President Al Gore? Huh, huh?  

And modesty. Let me tell you about it. The man sent his own antique genuine Persian rugs to a museum. That’s how modest he is. I know you’re harrumphing and thinking, “Well, it’s Iran, all the rugs are Persian,” but they’re not all antiques, so there. Not that I’d mind having one or two for myself, if I ever get to be Mrs. Ami. No, I’m certainly not counting my chickens. I know Presidents don’t marry people like me. I know he’s already married, but Girlfriend, he only has one wife! And Iranians can have as many as they want.  He’s a faithful kind a guy, which you don’t find too often here in Asbury Park, let me tell you.  Remember my last husband, Carl?  Carl the Crab we used to call him, because he was so cranky, the man was a walking grouch mobile.  

Yes, the one thought he was a real ladies man, but the ladies didn’t think so. LOL!  Yes, that’s the one died of a coronary in Thelma Overstreet’s bed. Thelma the Thyroid, we called her.  Though I think it was low thyroid she had.  They gave her hormone replacement therapy to cure it, but all it did was make her totally man-crazy, not that she wasn't anyway, now she was just fat and completely non-discriminating in her choice of men.  Lol!  Who else would have had Cranky Carl, especially with his middle-aged beer gut? Man, that guy turned into a porker. Who knew from Asbury Park JC?  He was BMOC, as they say in those days, but LOL, that wasn't saying much in old AP JC. What a dump!

Anyway, that Thelma.  You remember her?  You’d think she was on a diet of pure blubber.  Don’t remind me.  It was truly embarrassing. Even Carl the Crab would have died of humiliation if he’d seen himself, a beached whale on top of a overweight walrus.  Not a pretty picture and her whimpering until the paramedics could pry him off.   Well, he can rest in peace too.  I’ve never had much luck in the romance department, so this cute Iranian Dictator is a godsend.  And cyberdating is the best!  You should try it.  

And, Girlfriend, his IM's are seriously hot!  I bet they’re even hotter in the original Persian or whatever language they talk. I have to get the translated version, which I just know is toned down, right? But it’s still hot enough to make an Asbury Park girl blush.  

And you know Ami’s really getting treated unfairly.  It’s his last year as President, so you’d think they’d cut the guy a break.  But no, the so called reformers in his own Country are all over the dude, and the Americans keep talking about bombs.  Of course he wants the bomb, who doesn’t?  You have to defend yourself after all.  Ami’s no fool, I’m telling you. 
Oh, I know you think he’s hard on women. Like the fashion police. I got called out just last week for letting my midriff show.  They try to tell you if you’re over forty, keep it covered, but then they make all these skimpy tops and pants that don’t come up to your belly button, what can you do?  Yes, I know keeping the tummy covered isn’t like keeping the whole body covered. It must be hot in there. It is a desert after all.  So no, I’m not looking forward to moving to Iran anytime soon.  I don’t think I’d be happy as wife number two. Not with the first one still there and all.  

Listen Sadie, I gotta go, my main man’s on IM and I can’t chat any longer.  And no, I will NOT ask him to text me a picture of his ding-a –ling!!!  What, do you think, he’s just another horn dog like that Eliot Spitzer dude?

I hope you know that is an insult to the office of the Presidency of Iran, and to me personally.

Good bye Sadie,

Your ex-friend Madeline

No comments: