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all-the-things-2020 · 10 months ago

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Late Night Talking - Chapter Fourteen

Summary: Dieter and Emily spend Thanksgiving break together.

Rating: PG-13 (mention of sex but no real smut)

Word count: 3800

Notes: San Ysidro Ranch is a real place but I’ve never been there. I’ve also never had a massage or a sound bath, but I hope I wrote about both experiences competently. Also, I have family members who are Mormon and any opinions expressed about that religion are my own.

Tag list: @rhoorl @avastrasposts @readingiskeepingmegoing @runningmom94 @gwendibleywrites @weho2kcmo

“Thank you for the invitation, Aunt Helen, but I can’t make it.”

”You know you’re always welcome, Emily. And I understand it’s a long drive to make by yourself, and flying is expensive, but maybe that rich boyfriend of yours could lend you the money. We’d love to see you.”

I was glad it was a voice call and not FaceTime, because I’m sure I grimaced. I’d made the trek to Utah to spend Thanksgiving with Aunt Helen and her family once and that had been enough for me. She was my mom’s sister, my only living relative on either side of the family, but she was â€¦ well, I’ll just come out and say it. Mormon.

At the age of twenty, Aunt Helen had opened the door to a pair of missionaries and fell hook line and sinker for the message they brought. It wasn’t a bad thing, it was just awkward for someone raised in a very secular family to suddenly be so vehemently religious. My grandma once said that no one is as fervent as a convert, and she was right.

Aunt Helen joined the church and within a year she was married to a young man who’d recently graduated from BYU and had a job lined up in Salt Lake City. My mom had confessed that she was glad that Helen and Jeremiah lived so far away. So was I. Every phone call or email from her invariably included some sort of remark about my “lifestyle,” which I understood to mean “being unmarried and childless after the age of thirty and having sex with my boyfriend.”

“I’d love to see you, too,” I replied, “but Dieter’s booked us a cottage at a resort in Santa Barbara for Thanksgiving week. He has to start a new project soon and we want to have a little getaway before he has to leave town.”

Aunt Helen sniffed. “Doesn’t he have family to spend the holiday with?” Family was very important to Aunt Helen.

“He’s going to his brother’s for Christmas, and he and his dad aren’t on good terms right now,” I explained. “So we’re spending Thanksgiving together, just the two of us.”

”Well, if you think that’s best, but remember, you are always welcome here. Maybe you could come for Christmas, since Dieter will be out of town?”

”We’ll see,” I said. There was no way in hell I was going to her house for Christmas.

”Give my love to Uncle Jeremiah and all the cousins.”

I ended the call and heaved a sigh of relief. I loved her, I really did, but only in small doses.

***************************************************

The drive up to Santa Barbara was a bit hectic, as all drives out of the L.A. area are, but once we got to the San Ysidro Ranch it was like we were in another world. It was in the foothills overlooking Montecito. The grounds were lush with plants and the cottages were beautiful, built in Craftsman style. Ours had a private patio with a hot tub, a fireplace, and a king size canopy bed, with exposed wooden beams ceilings. I was in love.

”I want to live here,” I told Dieter as we explored the little cottage. “This place is absolutely amazing. Look at that view!” The front terrace faced west, offering a panorama to the Pacific Ocean in the distance.

“And it’s all ours for a week,” Dieter said, sliding his arms around me from behind. “Great food, great views, great company and privacy.” The last month or so had been rough. Word had leaked out about his brief stay in rehab and that, combined with a new movie project starting soon, had brought the paparazzi out in force. They followed him all over town, and photos of him had popped up all over the internet. There were even photos of the two of us doing mundane things like shopping at CVS and Trader Joe’s. Dieter always shrugged it off, but I knew that deep down it bothered him, mostly because he didn’t think I should have to deal with the paps.

”Yeah, that hot tub looks incredible,” I said, rolling my shoulders to loosen some of the kinks. A week at work combined with the long drive had tightened up my muscles.

“Maybe we can skinny dip,” Dieter said into my ear.

”After it gets dark,” I said. “I know it’s private but I don’t think I could do that in daylight.”

He chuckled. “Deal. And after we soak awhile, I’ll make sure you release all your tension.”

*******************************************************

After dinner at the resort’s restaurant (where Dieter had had ordered and devoured an order of oysters, much to my dismay â€” I still didn’t like them and they reminded me too much of the night I met Jonathan) we wandered back to our cottage in the dark. I used the bathroom and got undressed, slipping on a bathrobe before I stepped outside onto the patio. Dieter was already in the hot tub, his own robe draped haphazardly over the lounge chair.

”You’d better not pee in there,” I teased as I dropped my own robe onto the chair and stepped into the tub. The cool November air caused goosebumps on my skin and I ducked quickly into the warm water.

”I went at the restaurant before we left,” he reminded me. “Now get over here.” He motioned for me to slide closer on the little bench that ringed the tub. I settled against his side and he wrapped his arm around me. We leaned back, letting the jets of hot water soothe us. I felt the knots in my muscles relax.

”Wanna make out?” Dieter asked after several minutes.

”Not just yet,” I said. “I’m enjoying the water.”

”Okay,” he said comfortably. “I want you nice and supple when we get into bed.”

Ever since he’d gotten out of rehab, things had been easier between us. It was hard to put my finger on what had changed, but we just seemed more settled, less anxious about things. We knew that we wanted each other for who we were, warts and all.

Soon enough, we started kissing, and it wasn’t long before we were climbing out of the water and pulling on our robes, eager to get inside out of the chill and into bed. We tumbled into the fine Italian linens and made love. Dieter was true to his promise to help me release all my tension, and I did the same for him. Sex with Dieter was easy. He never made me feel like I was anything other than the most desirable woman in the world. He always asked permission before he did anything that differed from our usual routine, even if we’d done it before. He insisted on using protection. And he always made sure I was satisfied before he’d let himself finish. He was the very definition of an unselfish lover.

”I don’t deserve you,” I told him when we were cuddling afterward. He was a champion snuggler, clinging to me like a baby sloth clings to its mother, enveloping me in his warmth.

“You’ve got that backwards,” he mumbled, already half asleep.

“Okay, we’ll split the difference. We deserve each other.”

”Damn right.” He nuzzled against my neck and promptly started snoring.

******************************************************************

The next morning, we slept in, walked down to the restaurant for breakfast and then strolled through the botanical gardens on our way back to the cottage. We spent a lazy day reading and watching movies, punctuated by a few make out sessions. The day was warm enough that we left the windows open so we could enjoy the breeze off the ocean.

At one point, Dieter dozed off on the couch, his book open against his chest, his glasses sliding down his nose. I got a sudden flash of his older self, hair and beard gone silver, taking a nap in our own little cottage somewhere, after he’d re-established his career and gotten to the point where he could pick and choose his roles. I wanted to grow old with him. I wanted this to last forever.

Then he snorted himself awake, mumbled “Fuck” under his breath and was his middle-aged self again, slightly grumpy at being caught napping during the day. “This place is too quiet,” he complained. “Made me fall asleep.”

”It’s comfortable,” I said. “I like it.” He lifted his arm and I slid underneath to nestle against his side. He was warm and solid and I laid my head on his chest. “Just like you.”

“Are you saying you like me, or that I’m comfortable?”

”Both.”

He shrugged. “I’ll take it. There are worse things to be called than comfortable, although it wounds my masculine pride.”

“What would you prefer?”

”Hot. Irresistible. Manly. Ripped.” It was my turn to snort. “What?”

”You are hot and irresistible and definitely manly, but ripped you are not.” I poked his belly, which had just enough squish to it. “And I like you that way. I want a tummy I can relax on, not one that’s hard as a rock. Six pack abs are highly overrated.”

”I’m glad to hear that,” he said. “Because I think those days are over.” He frowned down at his stomach. “The muscles are still in there somewhere, but the pudge is slowly taking over.”

”I like the pudge,” I said. “It makes you a real person. Real men have pudge. That should be your new slogan.”

”Dieter Bravo, the man with the pudge. I like that. I could be the new spokesman for Pillsbury.” I poked his belly again and he did the doughboy laugh. He was a huge dork, but he was my dork.

*****************************************************************

We hung around the resort for a couple of days, but then Dieter decided he wanted Mexican food, so we drove down to Santa Barbara for a day. We visited the art museum and then found a little hole in the wall Mexican place. I was content with a couple of tacos and a side of rice and beans, but Dieter ordered something called a Garbage Burrito, which was enormous and contained a little bit of everything, from beans to sour cream to cabbage to shredded beef to three kinds of salsa.

“You’re going to be sorry,” I told him after he took the final bite.

He patted his stomach. “Not sorry, just not hungry for about three days,” he said. “You’re on your own for dinner, Miss I-Only-Want-Two-Tacos.”

”You’re forgetting we have a couples massage booked at five,” I reminded him. “You’re gonna have to lay on that full tummy for an hour while they work on your back.”

He stifled a little burp and shrugged. “By that time, my amazing metabolism will have converted most of it to muscle,” he said.

“More like pudge,” I replied. It was our new inside joke. I had started calling him Pudgy Bear.

We left the restaurant and almost immediately were approached by a man who asked if he could get a selfie with Dieter. “I’ve seen all the Cliff Beasts movies,” he explained, “and I’ve gotten photos with three of the cast members so far.”

Dieter agreed. “Why don’t you take the photo?,” he asked me. The man beamed and smoothed down the front of his Hawaiian shirt before handing me his phone. I gave Dieter a quick glance. He had a salsa stain on his previously pristine white t-shirt. I tugged his cardigan into place so that it hid the stain.

”Stop it,” Dieter said, swatting at my hand.

”You have food on your shirt, honey,” I told him, adjusting the cardigan just a bit more. “You don’t want to ruin his photo.”

Dieter looked down and made a face. “Shit, you’re right.”

The guy laughed. “Hey, it’s okay, it’s nice to know that celebrities are real people.”

I snapped three photos, to give him a choice of which one was best, then handed the phone back. “Thanks, man,” he said, swiping through the photos. “Is it okay if I post these on my Insta?”

“Sure,” Dieter said, “and thanks for asking. Most people don’t.” He shook the guy’s hand and sent him on his way grinning from ear to ear.

**************************************************************

We drove around a bit on our way back to the resort, taking in the sights, but made it back in plenty of time for Dieter to change into a clean t-shirt before our massage.

“I don’t know why I have to change,” he grumbled. “I’m just gonna take it off when we get there. They do these things naked, you know.”

”You are not showing up in dirty clothes, even if you are going to get undressed,” I said. “It’s common courtesy.”

”But I’m not a common person,” Dieter said as he stripped off the dirty shirt. I tossed him a clean one from the dresser.

“You are definitely uncommon,” I agreed, running my eyes over his bare torso. Even with that bit of pudge he was an impressive sight.

Dieter preened. “I’m one of a kind.”

”The one, the only â€¦ Dieter Bravo!”

He posed like Superman, which would have made more of an impact if he hadn’t also been pooching out his stomach. He looked more like Jack Black in Nacho Libre than a superhero.

”Put your shirt on, goofball,” I told him. “We’ll be late.”

As Dieter predicted, almost as soon as we arrived for our appointment, the receptionist ushered us into the changing rooms, where we stripped down and put on the plush robes embroidered with the resort logo.

“Told you,” Dieter whispered as we were escorted to the massage room.

Soft music was playing and the lights were dimmed. An essential oil diffuser filled the room with the scent of lavender. I felt my heart rate drop already.

“Welcome. I’m Inge and this is Lance. We’ll be your massage therapists today.” Inge was tall and blonde, with just a trace of a Nordic accent. Lance was also tall, but with jet black hair.

“I think we might have wandered into a porno shoot,” Dieter whispered to me. I shushed him, but he wasn’t wrong. Seriously, who hires a massage therapist named Lance?

They busied themselves with a tray of oils and heated rocks and other massage paraphernalia while we disrobed and laid down on the massage tables, pulling the sheets over ourselves. Dieter, of course, only pulled his up enough to cover his ass, while I made sure mine was up to my shoulders.

It turned out Lance was the strong, silent type, who got right to work on Dieter’s upper back. Inge kept up a gentle, soothing patter as she kneaded my muscles. “We are trying to achieve total relaxation,” she intoned. “We will work on any tight spots you may have, so that when you leave you will be feeling completely loose and flexible.”

I thought I heard Dieter snicker a bit, but with his head buried in the face cut out, it was hard to tell.

“Listen to the music and let your body and mind relax,” Inge said. “Inhale the soothing scent of lavender and exhale all your negative energy.”

I could have dozed off, if not for Inge digging into the knots in my shoulders.

“Surrender to the rhythm of the music and our hands. Take in the good and release the bad.”

Brrr-ppp! Dieter farted loudly.

”Sorry,” he mumbled.

”No worries, man,” Lance said. “It happens.” He grunted as he bore down on Dieter’s back again.

Pppp-rrrr-ppp!

”I told you not to eat that huge burrito for lunch,” I said. And just about then the scent of lavender was overwhelmed by something decidedly less floral and we realized why it was called a garbage burrito.

”Maybe I’ll lay off the lower back,” Lance said, stifling a laugh.

”Yeah, might be a good idea,” Dieter said, giggling.

”I’m just going to turn up the diffuser,” Inge said, and that was when I lost it. I laughed until tears were streaming down my face.

”Only you could turn a romantic couples massage into a fart fest,” I told Dieter once I could talk.

”It’s that damn burrito,” he whined. “I’m not doing it on purpose.”

Inge and Lance managed to maintain their professional demeanor, but Dieter and I broke out in giggles multiple times during the massage. We might not have been completely and utterly relaxed when we emerged, but we were certainly feeling a lot lighter â€¦ in more ways than one.

****************************************************

On Thanksgiving Day there was a special turkey dinner at seven for all the guests. We spent a relaxing morning in the cottage. We watched the parade on TV (turns out Dieter had to watch the Macy’s parade every year â€” he loved the balloons) and after a light lunch we wandered over to partake in a sound bath.

”I’ve done these before,” Dieter said. “It’s amazing. Like, life changing type amazing. It’s like the best drug ever, but totally safe and natural.”

I wasn’t so sure that listening to singing bowls and chimes would be quite that earth shattering, but I was open to the experience. I knew that Dieter was less skeptical about things than I was but I didn’t see any harm in him believing in the power of crystals and stuff like that. Although I was pretty sure his aversion to AirPods wasn’t because he thought the wireless connection messed with his brain waves as he claimed, but because he had lost too many pairs and needed a “cool” excuse for his old-school wired earbuds.

The woman hosting the sound bath wore loose linen clothing which made her look like a Jedi knight, but she also had a severe pixie cut and angled eyebrows that made her look a bit Vulcan. I dubbed her the Logical Jedi in my mind, but didn’t dre say anything to Dieter. After the massage experience, I didn’t want to risk setting off another round of giggles.

”Welcome. I’m Diana and I’ll be facilitating your sound bath experience today. Please, lie down on the mats and make yourselves comfortable. If you have any previous yoga experience, assume the Savasana or corpse pose. For those of you who have not practiced yoga, this is simply lying on your back, with your arms out to your sides.”

While we settled, Diana walked around the room. “You will be bathing in sound today. You don’t need to do anything but keep your heart and mind open to receive the healing vibrations. I do ask that because today is Thanksgiving, you keep gratitude foremost in your mind. Think about all the things in your life, big and small, that you are thankful for. And let the sound guide you to inner peace.”

I closed my eyes, feeling a bit silly. I’d never been good at meditation; my mind darted in a million different directions as soon as I didn’t have something to focus on. Dieter told me you just had to empty your head and focus on your breath, but it was hard for me.

A chime rang and then the hum of a singing bowl filled the room. It was monotonous at first, but after a bit I could hear subtle variations in the tone as the sound waves vibrated the air. It was soothing. I started thinking about what I was thankful for.

Dieter, first of all. Meeting him had brought me so many new experiences, and a depth of joy I’d never known I was capable of. My job. A roof over my head. My health. Those were the big ones, and almost too easy to put on my list. Everyone was grateful for things like that. Then I started thinking about the smaller things: the smell right before it starts to rain, the excitement of opening a box of new books at work, the fierce glow of California poppies in the sun every spring.

I felt Dieter’s fingertips brush against mine and I smiled. He was thinking about me, too. We lay side by side, just barely touching, but fully connected as the song of the universe swept through us. I get it, Deet, I thought silently. I get it.

*******************************************************************************

Saturday morning came all too fast. As I packed our bags (Dieter offered to pack his, but his idea of packing was just shoving everything inside and squashing it until the bag would zip) I felt the familiar melancholy of the end of a work break. I knew I was lucky to have a job that gave me a week off at Thanksgiving, two weeks at Christmas and another week in the spring, not to mention a healthy dollop of three-day weekends and a long summer break, but it was always hard for me to switch gears back into work mode after being off for more than a few days.

“I don’t want to go back to work on Monday,” I groused.

”Then don’t,” Dieter said. “Quit. Move in with me. Find something else closer to my house. Or take some time off. Follow your passion.”

I sighed. “We’ve had this discussion before, Deet. It’s just too early on. I can’t take that leap yet.”

He smiled. “Yeah, I know, but a man’s gotta try. And I know how you feel.” He stretched, his joints cracking. “I’m due on set in five days and I know once I get there and get into it I’ll love it but right now all I can think about is packing and making the flight and meeting the cast and crew and hoping there aren’t too many assholes to deal with. And missing you.” He wrapped his arms around me and kissed my neck.

“I’ll miss you, too,” I said, leaning into his embrace. “But we’ll talk every night. And maybe you can sneak home for a weekend or something.”

”I was thinking â€¦ I’m going to Freddy’s for Christmas. Why don’t you join me? I won’t get enough time off to make it to Vermont and California but I‘m sure he and Laila won’t mind.”

”I don’t want to impose,” I said, although the idea of having a ready excuse to not go to Aunt Helen’s â€” not to mention the chance to spend some face to face time with Dieter â€” had me excited.

”Freddy wants to meet you,” Dieter said. “And I want you to meet him. Meet my family.”

My excitement shifted into anxiety. Meeting the family was a big step. “Only if he and his wife don’t mind,” I said carefully.

“I’ll ask him next time I talk to him. And I can tell you right now the answer will be yes.”

#pedro pascal character fanfiction #dieter bravo #dieter bravo x ofc #dieter bravo fanfiction #dieter x emily #late night talking

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beanbagbuddies4life · 1 year ago

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Chef Robuchon the Bear

via https://beaniebabiespriceguide.com/chef-robuchon/ and https://rarestbeans.com/2021/09/08/chef-robuchon-ty-beanie-baby-teddy/

Born September 18, 2006

If there is no love more sincere than the love of food you’ll find your soul mate in Chef Robuchon’s cuisine.

RarestBeans.com writes:

"Other sites have outlined the history of this piece. But a quick recap: Ty Warner, owner of the Four Seasons New York, hired famed Michelin Star chef Joel Robuchon to be his executive head chef at the L’Atelier de Joël Robuchon – the premier restaurant in the hotel. The restaurant was set to open on September 5th, 2006. Mr. Warner invited select food critics, journalists, and other guests/prominent foodies in NYC to attend dinner on one of three evenings (Sept 18, 19, or 20th, 2006). Exactly how these bears were distributed is unclear, but for particular journalists/reporters, the bear was sent out as an invite, with a a special red invite. Now here is the bit that is a bit less certain, and leads into a bit of the subtly of this bear. It is said Ty made about 200 examples of this piece, but we do not believe all 200 went out as “invites” to journalists. This is speculation, but stick with us for a second. The ones that did, came with a “complete” red invite, clearly prompting advanced RSPV’s ahead of the event. Other examples were given out with a “blank” red invite that omitted the date selection. We believe these were examples given out either at the event, or shortly thereafter by Ty/Chef Robuchon to guests. More examples still may have been distributed at the event itself without any invite/box at all. After all, no need for an invite once you were already at the event. And Ty typically likes to give mementoes to guests/members of his posh properties (Coral Casino bear to club members, San Ysidro Bently cat sold at the ranch gift shop, etc.).

Ty has made event-exclusive Beanies plenty of times before, but this one is substantially rarer than, for example, even the Billionaire Bears. RarestBeans.com poses a couple of theories: first of all, the foodies and journalists recieving these weren't really Beanie fanatics and might not have considered these valuable at all. Furthermore, some of the invited journalists probably had limitations on the value of gifts they could accept, and to sell these Beanies for the thousands they might have been worth would be a breach of contract. One way or another, RarestBeans.com posits that only a dozen or so have hit the collector market, ever. Whether the other ~180 are still out there we'll never know.

However, in 2018, Chef Roubuchon passed away and one more was revealed by his estate: Chef Roubuchon's personal bear. This is literally a one-of-a-kind piece, sporting curly brown fur and padded feet to differentiate itself from the rest. This may literally be the most valuable Beanie of all time.

Huge thanks as always to Becky and Karen at truebluebeans.com for much of this information.

#happy birthday to the chef bear! this is as close as any of us will ever get #sorry for not posting the pictures! i have enough followers now that i think if i'm gonna repost rarestbeans images i need to actually talk #to them and i'm not ready for that kind of commitment #but everything i haven't shown you is linked #beanie baby #beanie babies #$1000+ range #i guess #$500+ range

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charlotte-of-wales · 2 years ago

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Ooh I think the place Harry stays at is San Ysidro Ranch, he filmed his interviews with Bradby and Anderson Cooper there as well. It’s a nice place though I won’t lie lol.

lmfao my broke ass heard ‘chain hotel’ and was like ‘oh so like a Hilton?’ but a 5 star cottage-style hotel seems more like Harry’s thing

ANYWAY fun fact this was here Harry Styles and Olivia Wilde were first papped holding hands

#susx #answered

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littlemissidontcare · 6 days ago

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i think he stay in san ysidro ranch cottages in santa barbara, its one of hospitality partners of the festival events if that is something

/ his room is $3,000 per night 💀💀

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nazmulbd00m-blog · 1 month ago

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#IFTTT #Hollywood News - FNNEWZ

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prayforleonardo · 2 months ago

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Fui a Otay Ranch Food Pavilion en San Ysidro San Diego #Christmas

#christmas #christmas tree #feliz navidad #2024 #navidad

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grits-galraisedinthesouth · 2 years ago

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The lux cottage couple of SAN YSIDRO RANCH

When the Frogmore Cottage renovation project was announced to the British tax payers, Meghan used her personal "mouthpieces" to express displeasure with the choice. She found this cottage beneath her expectations for a royal standard of living. She publicly compared Frogmore Cottage to the homes of William and Catherine, and took to twatter to express her disdain for the free "staff" accommodations.

We already knew she detested Nottingham Cottage before Megflix because she lived in a rented house in the Cotswolds. A detail they conveniently forgot to mention in the mockumentary.

While her public disdain for rent-free housing is ON BRAND for Meghan, it is no coincidence that she moved to CA and deliberately chose a luxury COTTAGE as the faux Hollywood set of their reality tv show.

Meghan & Harry's Santa Barbara Cottages & Gardens represents another sign that she has always obsessed with setting up her rival faux ROYAL court. The BRF security team is obliged to flag these seemingly unrelated decisions as more evidence of Meghan's disordered bunny boiler personality which I have termed PCDD¹.

I still believe Meghan was crazy enough to name ARCHie and their ARCHewell BRAND after the word monARCHy. I also believe she named her tig blog after William & Harry's lost dog TIGger and their beloved lost nanny TIGgy. She used the word TIG to wickedly trigger Harry's boyhood traumas rooted in losses. In this case, a dog and a 2nd mother figure. Harry was a Marked man (now a Markled man) long before they met in Istanbul, Turkey.

Their decision to burn unearned wealth to cosplay in lux COTTAGES only feeds Meghan's Princess Catherine Derangement Disorder (PCDD¹) and her deluded fantasy that she is destined to become QUEEN of the world.

To keep up their lux cottage couple lifestyle, from 2020-2022 Meghan Markle potentially burned through a min of $56,000-$84,000 per WEEK to stage zoom calls and create a fake lifestyle of luxury for a megflix mockumentary.

That is at minimum $1,000,000 (million) per year on luxury hotel fees all the while suing & shaming the British tax payers for SECURITY. This is CRIMINAL.

The money Meghan & Harry burned on a weekly basis (during a pandemic) is the amount of money average Americans hope to gross in 1 year. The average family in some of the poorest countries in the world could transform their entire village with what these (2) two spent in 1 week to stage zoom calls. No wonder Meghan was in debt when she married Harry. She's the fraudess who went into debt to create her HUMANITARIAN brand to "bag a Prince.²"

It doesn't add up: they own a 16 bathroom mansion and yet the director of megflix quit the job because Meghan & Harry weren't willing to film their REALITY TV show out of their home. They will write off the expense of these lux cottages. With the publication of SpareUs, they released photos and articles all about the cottages and the property. No doubt Meghan negotiated a reduced rate to act as brand ambassadors.

But why the deception?

We learned that Charles cut Harry a check for a few million dollars, and yet ungrateful Harry went before the entire world with his lying wife and lying NOprah to shame his father for cutting him off financially. According to Harry it was only the millions from his mother (his very own patron saint who communicates with him from her grave) that made it possible for them to avoid homelessness.

NOprah had the audacity to publicly shame the British people for wasteful spending in honor of their Queen's Platinum Jubilee. This hypocrisy from the woman who televised the moment she gifted a room full of MULTI-MILLIONAIRES with an extravagant pair of diamond earrings. Her media mogul mentee, Tyler Perry, purchased 2 Rolls Royce vehicles: 1 for a billionairess, NOprah & 1 for a millionaire, Gail.

This cottage couple cried to NOprah because their royal baby didn't have SECURITY. Bethenny Frankle was even contacted by A list celebrities and told to take down her criticism of Meghan because they couldn't AFFORD to pay their SECURITY bills.

Free people should do whatever they desire to do with their own money; however in this instance, it is Meghan's pretense, her hypocrisy, and her penchant for deception that voted her the 2022 #1 celebrity that people are most sick of and of course Harry took the 2nd place spot.

Harry's law suit against his grandmother's government has already cost the British tax payer $300,000. This selfish, greedy California cottage couple has the audacity to demand that the UK tax payer cover their annual $3,000,000 SECURITY bill. You couldn't make it up.

This comes as no surprise to us bc we observed her celebrity NO work ethic at a mere 72 engagements.

If you pay UK taxes or live in a Commonwealth Country, please write to the MPs and to your Prime Minister. Sussex titles need to be stripped, thereby relieving the cottage couple (and their invisibles) of their ties to the UK and any need for tax payer funded SECURITY.

Admittedly, Meghan cares nothing for the sacrifices that were made by the British people (dead or alive). She feels entitled to other people's money. Unfortunately Harry, like his wife, lacks a pure desire for servant leadership.

William and Harry's mother, who actually worked hard for a living (even as a house keeper), would be appalled at Harry's sense of entitlement. Sadly, Harry has managed to embody the egomania his mother feared might result from an uber privileged upbringing.

In selecting Meghan, it is evident to the world that Harry has again tragically lost the mother he knew for the first 13 years of his life.

In 2019, Tatum O'Neal was asked about Meghan's infamous bad behavior at Wimbledon, and she seemed genuinely disappointed. "This is not Diana...I don't know what this is..." More evidence that Harry was told by numerous people who actually knew his mother that this wife lacks his mother's virtues, and yet he prefers to believe & parrot her lies.

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On Megflix, Meghan expressed that she's frustrated because after all this time (and Money on PR) people still don't have "a good sense" of who she is. For her to make such an outrageous statement only confirmed that South Park got it right, Harry's wife is "stupid."

Meghan dear, which one of your multiple personalities carried out those 72 engagements? Were we watching your clone? Did the British press tamper with the footage? Go back and watch yourself, preferably with a REAL medical professional. And while you're at it, print out the transcripts of those horrid podcasts. Everyone can see the real you except for you and your dumb now husband, H.

Harry had the audacity to say that unlike his British family members, he and Meghan never worried about how they might perform in front of the press because they are AUTHENTIC.

The fact that Harry believes Meghan is his mother incarnate is enough to warrant a wellness check visit on the invisibles by a qualified social worker. Obviously Dorito's CA license isn't worth the paper it was printed on.

The words of Harry's friend(s) about her rented apartment being Soho House "touched" certainly ring true today. I still don't understand the full meaning of those words, but even Dumb Harry wrote that she lived out of Soho House hotels where they stored her luggage.

"Soho House Touched" Living Accommodations

If you watch the home videos of Meghan, it affirms what her Uncle Mike said about his brother Thomas: he created "a prima donna." Sadly the entire world has been impacted by Thomas' creation. Meghan, the faux humanitarian, has shown the world the level of destruction an ungrateful adult child is capable of inflicting on her own families, and on all the families she never had.

So many elaborate schemes executed to feed the world an illusion of two innocent lovers who escaped their awful life inside the gilded cage of royalty, only to act out a modern day tragedy on a global stage.

Carry on duke & duchess. Carry on

¹PCDD Princess Catherine Derangement Disorder Last year I read a comment that summed up the root of Meghan's psychosis with a simple link to this photo:

²Gina Nelthorpe Cowne Quote

They negotiated a price cut from Mr. Warner. Too bad he also allowed them to redecorate w/Meghan's tacky home furnishings.

#cottage couple #San Ysidro Ranch #revenge #tom bower #megxit #frogxit #santa barbara #staged #fraud and fraudess #worldwide privacy tour #waaagh #like a spare #spare us #strip the sussex titles #four seasons #beanie babies #Ty Warner

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newstfionline · 1 year ago

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Monday, February 5, 2024

Biden finds that ‘forever wars’ are hard to quit (Washington Post) “It is time to end the forever war,” President Biden said in 2021, ahead of his administration’s fateful decision to push ahead with plans to withdraw U.S. forces from Afghanistan. Biden, a major player within a Washington establishment that launched a generation of open-ended military interventions in the Middle East and South Asia, was summoning the language of critics desperate to close the book on the United States’ post-9/11 misadventures. The debacle that ensued saw the Taliban take over a feeble state that had been propped up for close to two decades with U.S. resources. Biden and his allies still defend what transpired, anchored in a conviction that the American public wanted to end the longest war in the country’s history and that the chaotic collapse in Kabul was an outcome already set in motion by the mistakes of Biden’s predecessor. Whatever the merits of that claim, this weekend Biden plunged once more into the sprawling battlefields of the post-9/11 era. The United States and a number of Western allies launched strikes on dozens of targets belonging to Iran-affiliated militant groups in Iraq, Syria and Yemen. “It looks like a very significant action by the Biden administration, but on the other hand I don’t think it’s going to be anywhere near sufficient to deter these groups,” Charles Lister, director of the Middle East Institute’s Syria program, told my colleagues. “These militias have been engaged in this campaign for more than 20 years, they are in a long-term struggle. They are ultimately engaged in an attritional campaign against the U.S.”

Rally for Border Security in Texas (NYT) A line of trucks and campers, cars and vans—from South Dakota and North Carolina, Washington and Pennsylvania—snaked over farm roads before gathering on the winter-brown grass of a ranch, steps from the Rio Grande, in the rural community of Quemado, Texas. The gathering on Saturday marked the final stop of a days-long journey: a convoy of conservative Americans who drove to the border to demonstrate their frustration, fear and anger over what they saw as a broken immigration system. The location in Quemado had been chosen for its proximity to the city of Eagle Pass, a flashpoint in the pitched confrontation over border security and immigration between the Biden administration and Gov. Greg Abbott of Texas. Other convoys this week reached the border in Yuma, Ariz., and San Ysidro, Calif. The Republican governors of 25 states said that they would stand alongside Texas in its confrontation with the federal government.

Mexican police hit the beaches after killings in Acapulco (AP) Tourists have barely started trickling back into the Mexican resort of Acapulco after deadly storm damage last year, but the gangland killings on the beaches have already returned. Late Friday, the government of the Pacific coast state of Guerrero said it was deploying 60 gun-toting detectives to patrol the beaches “in light of the violent events that have occurred recently.” At least three people were shot dead on beaches in Acapulco last week, one by gunmen who arrived—and escaped—aboard a boat. The violence continues despite the presence of thousands of soldiers and National Guard officers deployed to the city after Category 5 Hurricane Otis in late October. Acapulco has been bloodied by turf battles between gangs since at least 2006. The gangs are fighting over drug sales and income from extorting protection payments from businesses, bars, bus and taxi drivers.

U.S. warns tourists to ‘reconsider travel’ to Jamaica after 65 murders in 1 month (NJ.com) The U.S. State Department has issued a security warning, urging people to “reconsider travel” to Jamaica after 65 people were murdered in one month. “Violent crimes, such as home invasions, armed robberies, sexual assaults, and homicides, are common. Sexual assaults occur frequently, including at all-inclusive resorts,” the warning from the U.S. Embassy in Jamaica stated.

For the first time, an Irish nationalist will lead Northern Ireland’s government (AP) An Irish nationalist made history Saturday by becoming Northern Ireland’s first minister as the government returned to work after a two-year boycott by unionists. Sinn Fein Vice President Michelle O’Neill was named first minister in the government that under the terms of the 1998 Good Friday peace accord shares power equally between Northern Ireland’s two main communities—British unionists who want to stay in the U.K., and Irish nationalists who seek to unite with Ireland. Northern Ireland was established as a unionist, Protestant-majority part of the U.K. in 1921, following independence for the Republic of Ireland, so O’Neill’s nomination was seen as a highly symbolic moment for nationalists.

Ukraine hits Russia’s Volgograd oil refinery in latest drone attack, source says (Reuters) Two Ukrainian attack drones struck the largest oil refinery in southern Russia on Saturday, a source in Kyiv told Reuters, detailing the latest in a series of long-range attacks on Russian oil facilities. Local authorities in Russia said earlier that a fire had been extinguished at the Volgograd refinery following a drone attack. Oil producer Lukoil later said the plant was working as normal. The Volgograd refinery is the latest in a series of facilities to be targeted by drones. Kyiv sees such infrastructure as important for the Kremlin’s war effort. The distance between the northeastern Ukrainian city of Kharkiv near the Russian border and the southern Russian city of Volgograd is more than 600km.

Pakistan’s wedding season heats up in cool weather (AP) There’s a scrum of people trying to get photos with the married couple at the Radiance banquet hall, and you can barely hear someone talk above the din of 400 guests tucking into biryani and chicken tikka, music and the drone whirring around the room. The bejeweled bride and her natty groom are beaming. Outside, the street is jammed with cars heading to wedding parties in neighboring banquet halls, L’Amour, Candles and Hill Top. Hill Top, a multiplex, has three weddings going on at once. It’s winter in Pakistan, and that means weddings. Lots of weddings. During the cooler weather between November and February, millions of people attend weddings every week. Pakistani diaspora come home from around the world for the season, packing airport arrival halls and five-star hotels. Weddings are one of the few opportunities for people in the conservative Muslim country to socialize and party. So it’s no surprise that people draw them out a bit.

Xi’s Nuclear Acceleration (NYT) Nineteen days after taking power as China’s leader, Xi Jinping convened the generals overseeing the country’s nuclear missiles and issued a blunt demand. China had to be ready for possible confrontation with a formidable adversary, he said, signaling that he wanted a more potent nuclear capability to counter the threat. Now, as China’s nuclear options have grown, its military strategists are looking to nuclear weapons as not only a defensive shield, but as a potential sword—to intimidate and subjugate adversaries. Even without firing a nuclear weapon, China could mobilize or brandish its missiles, bombers and submarines to warn other countries against the risks of escalating into brinkmanship.

Shrinking international aid and enduring conflict compound earthquake misery for Syrians (AP) A year ago, Sido Naji woke to his house shaking in northwest Syria. He was used to the sounds of shelling and airstrikes after more than a decade of war, but this time the assailant was a force of nature: a massive earthquake. The 16-year-old and his father managed to flee before the house collapsed. As they ran, a stone wall crashed onto them, crushing the teen’s leg and breaking his arm. The devastating 7.8 magnitude earthquake on Feb. 6, 2023, killed more than 59,000 people in Syria and Turkey. For its survivors in Syria, the massive temblor compounded already rampant poverty, destroyed hospitals and electrical and water systems, and forced many Syrians already displaced by war to move into tented settlements. In Jinderis, as in many of Syria’s earthquake-hit areas, there has been nearly no reconstruction and whole blocks still lie in rubble. Naji, whose leg was amputated, lives in a muddy tent. An initial outpouring of international assistance quickly subsided. United Nations agencies and other humanitarian organizations have been struggling to fund programs that provide a lifeline in Syria, blaming donor fatigue, the COVID-19 pandemic, and conflicts elsewhere that have erupted in recent years.

Israel Signals Its Military Will Move Into a Gaza City Turned Refuge (NYT) Israel’s defense minister has signaled that ground forces will advance toward the city of Rafah, in the southern Gaza Strip, which has become a refuge for hundreds of thousands of Palestinians pushed from their homes by nearly 13 weeks of war. Rafah, which has also been a gateway for humanitarian aid, is a sprawl of tents and makeshift shelters crammed against the border with Egypt. About half of Gaza’s 2.2 million residents have piled into and around the city, where about 200,000 people lived before the war, the United Nations said Friday. “We fear for what comes next,” Jens Laerke, a spokesperson for the U.N. Office for the Coordination of Humanitarian Affairs, said at a news conference in Geneva on Friday. He described Rafah as a “pressure cooker of despair.”

Houthis promise ‘escalation’ after U.S., British strikes in Yemen (Washington Post) The Houthis said they would retaliate after U.S. and British forces launched a new wave of strikes on targets used by the Iranian-backed militant group in Yemen. The joint attacks “will not go unanswered, and we will meet escalation with escalation,” Mohammed Al-Bukhaiti, a member of the Houthi political bureau, said early Sunday local time. The Yemen strikes targeted 13 locations associated with Houthi storage facilities and weaponry, Defense Secretary Lloyd Austin said. The Houthis have repeatedly targeted military and commercial vessels in the Red Sea, saying the attacks won’t cease until Israel’s assault on Gaza is over. U.S. forces struck a Houthi anti-ship cruise missile in Yemen that was “prepared to launch against ships in the Red Sea” at 4 a.m. local time Sunday, U.S. Central Command said, calling the missile an “imminent threat” to U.S. Navy ships and commercial vessels.

Senegal’s president delays elections indefinitely (Washington Post) Senegalese President Macky Sall on Saturday announced that elections scheduled for Feb. 25 would be indefinitely delayed, marking a first in Senegal’s history and fueling concerns about the electoral process in a country with one of the strongest histories of democracy in West Africa. Sall, who has served for two terms, said during an address to the nation that the delay was because of a dispute over which candidates were able to run. He reiterated that he would not seek a third term but gave no indication of when the elections would be held. The choice to delay the vote just hours before official campaigning was scheduled to start could fuel a new round of protests in Senegal, where frustration with the political process was already running high.

#headlines #news

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