Uh. Let's see. What is there to talk about? Maybe the fact that I'm going INSANE.
But first other news. Here are totally unimportant things I've done lately:
I finally sent my parents and my sister the trinkets I bought them in Colombia today. I arrived on January 14th and today is February 12th. Huh...that's actually not too bad I totally thought it'd been more than a month but I'm actually a little shy of that title.
I jogged today for 4 minutes. Considering I'm not physically capable of walking above 3mph I think this a cause for celebration. So I drank a dark chocolate Godiva Coffee drink.
I've become totally into the Bravo channel. Well I'm really into Project Runway (fierce!) but I have to say that Millionaire Matchmaker is kind of fun too. I cannot wait for Rami and Chris to have a face off. I'm over the draping. Little hairspray Chris is totally obnoxious but he is definitely talented and Jillian is annoying about how she always complains she doesn't have any time to finish but when she's done it always looks great. I liked Sweet P but she definitely wasn't the strongest.
I opened up a Scottrade account to rollover my 401(k) into an IRA but lost some of my motivation when I realized that I would have to make all my own investments. They don't really do any of it for me. Luckily I found out I can actually keep my 401(k) as is until I can add it to a new one at a new employer. That is of course if I ever have a new employer. Or a place to live. Or any hope for a future.
I think I've lost a little weight. I've been going for walks almost everyday if not everyday. Combine this with the fact that I don't ingest many calories because there are none to ingest and my jeans are fitting comfortably. If I can just get myself to do some sit-ups I might actually start to feel better about myself. But I hate sit-ups.
I really, really want to cut my hair because I'm bored. But I don't because every time I cut my hair I feel an extreme sense of remorse that usually moves me to tears.
We spent the evening at Mark's sister's house which meant more playing with Sophia who is just as adorable as ever even as her terrible twos start to sneak up. At one point I was at the computer working on this very post when she walked into the room chugging her milk in her footsie pjs. She's so cute and I love to snuggle her every opportunity that I get (or really that she gives me) so I beckoned her over and plopped her in my lap. She starting asking about Elmo. She doesn't really watch TV but she had a jacket with Elmo on it and it's her latest obsession. So I googled him and up came some great YouTube clips. I think my favorite was absolutely the one that I posted below. I urge you to visit it.
The funniest part to me is that at the very end I said a joke and two seconds later Elmo said the same thing. I turned to little Sophia who had stopped chugging her milk and was mesmerized by the Elmoness of it all and said "Man, if you weren't 17 months you'd realize how funny that just was."
Go here: http://youtube.com/watch?v=BgUnYzXU-Fo
Wednesday, February 13, 2008
Tuesday, February 5, 2008
Things I Did Today
Today while Mark went to vote inside a parish office I sat in front of a Catholic Church in the shade trying to remember anything about what goes on during Mass and how it feels in a confessional booth. Then an old lady walked into the empty church (way too modern looking for me with southwest-looking tiles and giant green tinted windows, give me some dark wood and stained glass), looked around, came back out and asked me if I knew what time they were distributing ashes tomorrow. I wanted to say "Tomorrow is Ash Wednesday?" but instead I said "I'm sorry, I have no idea." After she went away I started to feel totally terrible and guilty that I didn't even know it was Ash Wednesday tomorrow. Not that I've done anything remotely religious in ages. Not that I would've gone to Mass, but still. I'm truly becoming a lapsed catholic. I can't even remember what certain Holy Days mean anymore. At my eighth grade graduation I won an expensive looking plaque that was the Religion Award. Basically I averaged 100% almost the entire year. Not that I was super religious ever, I'm more just a nerd and religion was a graded class.
We finally filled out a rental application for this apartment in Carrboro, North Carolina. It sounded like a sweet set up, with a good location, really good rent, and just the glimmer of getting out of dodge was enough to make me happy. We faxed it there with a super polite cover letter only to be called, like, three minutes later to be told that without a job already set up in NC we would be unable to be considered for anything. Instead of going "oh-well!" I went away to wallow in self-pity and worry and doubt. I decided that I should get something about my life in order so I returned to the computer and asked Mark if I could look up a phone number. He was busy working on his future so he was going to look it up for me. Since I was wallowing in self-pity and worry and doubt this annoyed me and we proceeded to bite each other's heads off for like 10 minutes. Joy. Did I mention that I have a savings account and Mark has excellent credit and we would never not be able to pay rent but we don't qualify for an apartment meanwhile there is a registered sex offender living in the very building we want to move into? How annoying is that!
Eventually I got the number I was looking for. I wanted to set up an IRA because I've been sitting on my 401(k) paperwork for like 4 months now. Because any minute I'm going to be getting a buttload of letters telling me I have fines and the government is going to ruin my life and I no longer have a retirement future. So I called and got a guy named Josh who kinda answered the phone in an obnoxious way. I told him that I wanted to set up an IRA and he told me to go online and do it. I said "Oh, thanks." and he said "No problem. Do you have any other questions?" and I wanted to say "If I just have to go online to do it then what the F do you get paid to answer the phone and do nothing all day?" but all the fight was out of me.
After Mark and I decided to be nice to each other (maybe realizing if we can't get along we're totally f'ing screwed) we went out so that he could run and I could walk. It was nice. I didn't listen to music. I needed to clear my head because I'm totally freaking out and wallowing in self-pity and worry and doubt. At the end of the walk when Mark had met up with me a blond man in a wheel chair appeared at one of the entryways to the path. He was a number of yards away waiting for someone behind him and I noticed he was in a peculiar wheelchair. My head full of useless information suddenly snapped to and I realized that the guy in the wheelchair was one of the guys in Murderball, the movie about the US Olympic Wheelchair Rugby team. I thought it was pretty neat as he wizzed by me with his crazy rugby chair grinding along the asphalt.
Today I finished the book The God of Animals by Aryn Kyle. I Loved It.
We finally filled out a rental application for this apartment in Carrboro, North Carolina. It sounded like a sweet set up, with a good location, really good rent, and just the glimmer of getting out of dodge was enough to make me happy. We faxed it there with a super polite cover letter only to be called, like, three minutes later to be told that without a job already set up in NC we would be unable to be considered for anything. Instead of going "oh-well!" I went away to wallow in self-pity and worry and doubt. I decided that I should get something about my life in order so I returned to the computer and asked Mark if I could look up a phone number. He was busy working on his future so he was going to look it up for me. Since I was wallowing in self-pity and worry and doubt this annoyed me and we proceeded to bite each other's heads off for like 10 minutes. Joy. Did I mention that I have a savings account and Mark has excellent credit and we would never not be able to pay rent but we don't qualify for an apartment meanwhile there is a registered sex offender living in the very building we want to move into? How annoying is that!
Eventually I got the number I was looking for. I wanted to set up an IRA because I've been sitting on my 401(k) paperwork for like 4 months now. Because any minute I'm going to be getting a buttload of letters telling me I have fines and the government is going to ruin my life and I no longer have a retirement future. So I called and got a guy named Josh who kinda answered the phone in an obnoxious way. I told him that I wanted to set up an IRA and he told me to go online and do it. I said "Oh, thanks." and he said "No problem. Do you have any other questions?" and I wanted to say "If I just have to go online to do it then what the F do you get paid to answer the phone and do nothing all day?" but all the fight was out of me.
After Mark and I decided to be nice to each other (maybe realizing if we can't get along we're totally f'ing screwed) we went out so that he could run and I could walk. It was nice. I didn't listen to music. I needed to clear my head because I'm totally freaking out and wallowing in self-pity and worry and doubt. At the end of the walk when Mark had met up with me a blond man in a wheel chair appeared at one of the entryways to the path. He was a number of yards away waiting for someone behind him and I noticed he was in a peculiar wheelchair. My head full of useless information suddenly snapped to and I realized that the guy in the wheelchair was one of the guys in Murderball, the movie about the US Olympic Wheelchair Rugby team. I thought it was pretty neat as he wizzed by me with his crazy rugby chair grinding along the asphalt.
Today I finished the book The God of Animals by Aryn Kyle. I Loved It.
Saturday, January 26, 2008
A Whole Lotta Nothing
My cold is starting to wane. Other than not being able to taste anything and not being able to tell how loud I'm talking due to clogged ears I'm feeling much better. If anything I'm being entertained by the fascinating world of mucus. So many colors and textures!
My new favorite thing is Kellogg's Frosted Mini-Wheats. Of course I had fallen into the trap that most people find themselves in. Wow! Wheat-like cereal! I feel so healthy! Such fabulous fiber! This is such a healthy snack, I'm glad I picked up a bowl of this instead of a cookie! When in reality I'm eating bowls and bowls of kiddie cereal. Sure there is no fat but lots of calories and sugar. But I'm not going to let it get me down. I mean besides the fact that it's one of the only things to eat here (long story I'd rather share in person than be totally rude and explain in a blog), I really entertain myself with my method.
To me, everything is like eating a Reese's Peanut Butter Cup. You have to have a way. So I pour myself some Mini-Wheat crack. I pour enough vanilla soy milk to cover it just to the tops of the crack nuggets. I settle into my seat. I must let every nugget get saturated and then I turn them over one by one to saturate the other side. Then I place every nugget frosted side up and I begin the evaluations. I examine the level of frosted-ness. I rank them. Then, after assuring that each one is saturated enough with soy milk (I'm not a soggy cereal fan, but I'm not into the crunchy either), I begin eating them from least frosted to most frosted.
I always spot and designate "The Last One" which tends to be deliciously over-frosted and I keep my eye on it the entire time to make sure that the frosting doesn't get washed away by the milk and that I don't eat it by mistake which would ruin the entire experience and leave me sad and depressed.
This is how I've been entertaining myself in San Diego.
Now that I'm back in the country of clean mirrors and sufficient bathroom lighting I have officially confirmed that at some point in the past few months I did indeed chip a tooth. Totally minor and doesn't mess with the way my mouth looks (thank god because that funky crooked tooth would've been pissed that it wasn't the center of attention anymore) I can't stop rubbing the new rougher edge with my tongue. It's a totally annoying habit that also continues to officially confirm that I am as totally neurotic as my mother likes to tell me.
My new favorite thing is Kellogg's Frosted Mini-Wheats. Of course I had fallen into the trap that most people find themselves in. Wow! Wheat-like cereal! I feel so healthy! Such fabulous fiber! This is such a healthy snack, I'm glad I picked up a bowl of this instead of a cookie! When in reality I'm eating bowls and bowls of kiddie cereal. Sure there is no fat but lots of calories and sugar. But I'm not going to let it get me down. I mean besides the fact that it's one of the only things to eat here (long story I'd rather share in person than be totally rude and explain in a blog), I really entertain myself with my method.
To me, everything is like eating a Reese's Peanut Butter Cup. You have to have a way. So I pour myself some Mini-Wheat crack. I pour enough vanilla soy milk to cover it just to the tops of the crack nuggets. I settle into my seat. I must let every nugget get saturated and then I turn them over one by one to saturate the other side. Then I place every nugget frosted side up and I begin the evaluations. I examine the level of frosted-ness. I rank them. Then, after assuring that each one is saturated enough with soy milk (I'm not a soggy cereal fan, but I'm not into the crunchy either), I begin eating them from least frosted to most frosted.
I always spot and designate "The Last One" which tends to be deliciously over-frosted and I keep my eye on it the entire time to make sure that the frosting doesn't get washed away by the milk and that I don't eat it by mistake which would ruin the entire experience and leave me sad and depressed.This is how I've been entertaining myself in San Diego.
Now that I'm back in the country of clean mirrors and sufficient bathroom lighting I have officially confirmed that at some point in the past few months I did indeed chip a tooth. Totally minor and doesn't mess with the way my mouth looks (thank god because that funky crooked tooth would've been pissed that it wasn't the center of attention anymore) I can't stop rubbing the new rougher edge with my tongue. It's a totally annoying habit that also continues to officially confirm that I am as totally neurotic as my mother likes to tell me.
Thursday, January 24, 2008
A Glimmer of Hope and then...
For some strange reason the other day I got it in my head that Mark and I should totally just face reality and go to New York City because we would have a network of people to help us in some way get on our feet. Sure most of them would be loud Puerto Ricans who are in some way related to me but Mark has friends there too so it wouldn't be so bad. I mentioned this and he totally agreed!
I suddenly started thinking about neighborhoods that we could probably afford, maybe inviting over my parents for a dinner I cooked (would I make it vegetarian to annoy my dad? maybe), commuting on the subway, practicing fake interviews where I assured the interviewer that if there is anything I know, it's customer service. I imagined calling friends I really don't talk to anymore and creating a new little social circle for myself that involved off-Broadway shows, random jazz performances, tasty pizzerias. I went to town. I was excited. Nervous and scared of course, but excited.
And then he backed out on me. He said he wasn't so sure. It was too expensive. Maybe we should pick a city near New York City; like Philadelphia (which he always pronounces as Philadalphia). Because I have fears about moving back to New York myself I just sadly smiled and said sure, we'll still think about it. I slumped off to bed, soggy tissues in hand, nose lotion in pocket, and as I started to fall asleep I cried (just a little!).
Little do I realize he's keeping up some dialogue with a friend about how he still really wants to move to San Francisco (New Yorkers: gasp here) because he knows so many people there. Now we all know how Mark feels about my family:
Big yawn at last Christmas. Notice how thrilled he looks to be there.
But he knows people in New York too! I understand that a city that is so expensive can have that as an argument against its quality of life, but it has everything else he wants! He'd never have to drive, he'd have culture galore! Loads of diversity! I'm sorry Mark's friends in NY. He obviously doesn't regard you very highly. But as I said before and it will continue to be my argument: Mark knowing a lot of people in San Francisco (just as equally expensive as NYC) is not a reason for me to move there.
The Battle continues...
I suddenly started thinking about neighborhoods that we could probably afford, maybe inviting over my parents for a dinner I cooked (would I make it vegetarian to annoy my dad? maybe), commuting on the subway, practicing fake interviews where I assured the interviewer that if there is anything I know, it's customer service. I imagined calling friends I really don't talk to anymore and creating a new little social circle for myself that involved off-Broadway shows, random jazz performances, tasty pizzerias. I went to town. I was excited. Nervous and scared of course, but excited.And then he backed out on me. He said he wasn't so sure. It was too expensive. Maybe we should pick a city near New York City; like Philadelphia (which he always pronounces as Philadalphia). Because I have fears about moving back to New York myself I just sadly smiled and said sure, we'll still think about it. I slumped off to bed, soggy tissues in hand, nose lotion in pocket, and as I started to fall asleep I cried (just a little!).
Little do I realize he's keeping up some dialogue with a friend about how he still really wants to move to San Francisco (New Yorkers: gasp here) because he knows so many people there. Now we all know how Mark feels about my family:
Big yawn at last Christmas. Notice how thrilled he looks to be there.But he knows people in New York too! I understand that a city that is so expensive can have that as an argument against its quality of life, but it has everything else he wants! He'd never have to drive, he'd have culture galore! Loads of diversity! I'm sorry Mark's friends in NY. He obviously doesn't regard you very highly. But as I said before and it will continue to be my argument: Mark knowing a lot of people in San Francisco (just as equally expensive as NYC) is not a reason for me to move there.
The Battle continues...
Where the heck have I been?
So. As you can probably tell Mark and I made it back to the states alive. I didn't want to post right away on what was the most ridiculously infuriating experience that is flying through South America. I was too angry. I was dreaming up posts and all of them had insanely explicit language that would've made my mammy and pappy very sad to hear.
Let it just be said that the Biatch in Bogota who checked us in screwed us big time, created an insane luggage mess that was to be the next 84 hours of our life and in the end when Mark's bag finally got returned to us some jerk-off somewhere out there had stolen some of his clothes and the kick-ass hammock we had bought in Colombia which was truly a devastating blow to realize it was gone forever.
So ultimately I guess it is a fitting end to all the annoying bullshit that was sometimes a major part of my trip to Colombia. No, I don't regret going. Yes, I'm thrilled to be back.
Because of all the luggage mess we spent 2ish days sleeping on a futon in LA where a two-year-old who doesn't like me coughed on me constantly. Knowing that I hadn't had a cold since I was training "the new girl" who had a cold and didn't heed my advice about disinfecting keyboards; I immediately knew that I was screwed because my grace period was over. So of course on prompt arrival in San Diego we discovered that not only the Anderson family-at-large had all had colds but they had basically been giving it to each other since Christmas and there were still germs lingering around. Mix that with frigid temperatures (in San Diego you say? When a house doesn't get heated it gets pretty cold) and Jamie was instantly full of snot and miserable.
I've been blowing my nose so consistently that I don't even have skin on my nostrils anymore. And they don't skimp on tissues here, this is the good shit. I sleep with two sweatshirts on and Mark is constantly arranging my 5 blankets and a sheet to insure maximum warmth. I'm not taking any actual medicines but thanks to the obsessive compulsive disorder that a certain Anderson has about their allergies I'm laden down with Benadryls and Sudafeds and there is even some Tussin when I'm ready!
However today we may have some progress: I seem to be blowing my nose less frequently. The cold has moved to the chest cavity. Normally with my occasional asthmatic tendencies this can be really bad but there is no wheezing or anything scary that causes the Voice of Diana to appear and begin nagging my thoughts. Just a nice hearty cough here and there. Maybe tonight I'll really sleep!
Let it just be said that the Biatch in Bogota who checked us in screwed us big time, created an insane luggage mess that was to be the next 84 hours of our life and in the end when Mark's bag finally got returned to us some jerk-off somewhere out there had stolen some of his clothes and the kick-ass hammock we had bought in Colombia which was truly a devastating blow to realize it was gone forever.
So ultimately I guess it is a fitting end to all the annoying bullshit that was sometimes a major part of my trip to Colombia. No, I don't regret going. Yes, I'm thrilled to be back.
Because of all the luggage mess we spent 2ish days sleeping on a futon in LA where a two-year-old who doesn't like me coughed on me constantly. Knowing that I hadn't had a cold since I was training "the new girl" who had a cold and didn't heed my advice about disinfecting keyboards; I immediately knew that I was screwed because my grace period was over. So of course on prompt arrival in San Diego we discovered that not only the Anderson family-at-large had all had colds but they had basically been giving it to each other since Christmas and there were still germs lingering around. Mix that with frigid temperatures (in San Diego you say? When a house doesn't get heated it gets pretty cold) and Jamie was instantly full of snot and miserable.
I've been blowing my nose so consistently that I don't even have skin on my nostrils anymore. And they don't skimp on tissues here, this is the good shit. I sleep with two sweatshirts on and Mark is constantly arranging my 5 blankets and a sheet to insure maximum warmth. I'm not taking any actual medicines but thanks to the obsessive compulsive disorder that a certain Anderson has about their allergies I'm laden down with Benadryls and Sudafeds and there is even some Tussin when I'm ready!
However today we may have some progress: I seem to be blowing my nose less frequently. The cold has moved to the chest cavity. Normally with my occasional asthmatic tendencies this can be really bad but there is no wheezing or anything scary that causes the Voice of Diana to appear and begin nagging my thoughts. Just a nice hearty cough here and there. Maybe tonight I'll really sleep!
Sunday, January 13, 2008
The Last Day
This is it. Our last day here in Colombia. Of course our last experiences here wouldn't have been complete without some annoying tidbits taking place. Let's divulge!
We have some loud chicas now living on the hall who walk back and forth all morning to the bathroom, all the while puffing on cigarettes and stinking up our room. It's been so long since I awoke to the sensation of second-hand smoke. I still don't miss it.
We went to eat breakfast at the one place we knew would be open, a diner-type place called Salerno. This was to be our third outing there. I went back to the trusty french toast and was super excited to find that instead of two lukewarm pieces of bread, this time I was given four nice and warm pieces of french toast. Part of me was very glad that I got the bigger plate this time because if I was given four my first visit and two my last I'd be seriously annoyed at me being ripped-off. It was super tasty and instead of maple syrup I was given honey which made it amazing. But french toast needs butter and so I asked for some since we were never given any even though they gave us a basket of toast (which had never been done before either).
When we went to pay our standard 13,000 pesos that we had paid every other time suddenly the check was 18,000 pesos. I looked at the receipt and saw that we were being charged for an extra juice which we didn't have and the bitches were charging us for the butter. We asked for the juice to be taken off and were of course suddenly looked at with great suspicion even though we absolutely didn't ask for any extra acid, thank you very much. But the butter charge prevailed which is total bullshit and we walked out of there feeling totally ripped off. The worst part is that I could proclaim I'm never going to go there again, but it's really not a choice.
Mark of course was feeling his insatiable need for beverages and so we hung out while he drank a latte and then we headed back to the room. I took a really good nap while he went out and blogged it up.
After I arrose we headed out for yet another meal (all we've done for 2 months is search for food) and enjoyed some grilled meat. As we headed down the street, amazed by the amount of street performers out on this fine Sunday, I heard the sweet, sweet sound of a marching band. I love the sound of a gaggle of snare drums, the blasting of some horns, a group of bass drums, and the tinkle of xylophones. Mark rolled his eyes as I demanded we hurry to the Plaza Bolivar. It was the changing of the guard and a whole military band was out playing while a team of colorfully uniformed men folded a ginormous Colombian flag in a very awkward choreographed manner. It was really neat to watch and I really enjoyed the music, minus the few bits where a xylophone was definitely a little off. I walked away feeling full of patriotic pride. Even if I'm not from here.
We headed off to yet another cafe where I bought a souvenir sweater and Mark had yet another hot chocolate. I refrained from any beverages as I was saving myself...for ice cream. I had waited until the very end of our time here in Bogotá for a decedant indulgence at Crepes & Waffles. It's a chain of restaurants that has insane desserts and I was going to have one for dinner. At 5pm on this leisurely Sunday we headed to Crepes & Waffles as I dreamed of brownies and nuts and ice cream and syrups. Of gooey warm amazingness. I could see it ahead! There is a pep in my step! We reached the doors with their golden borders. And they were closed.
We have some loud chicas now living on the hall who walk back and forth all morning to the bathroom, all the while puffing on cigarettes and stinking up our room. It's been so long since I awoke to the sensation of second-hand smoke. I still don't miss it.
We went to eat breakfast at the one place we knew would be open, a diner-type place called Salerno. This was to be our third outing there. I went back to the trusty french toast and was super excited to find that instead of two lukewarm pieces of bread, this time I was given four nice and warm pieces of french toast. Part of me was very glad that I got the bigger plate this time because if I was given four my first visit and two my last I'd be seriously annoyed at me being ripped-off. It was super tasty and instead of maple syrup I was given honey which made it amazing. But french toast needs butter and so I asked for some since we were never given any even though they gave us a basket of toast (which had never been done before either).
When we went to pay our standard 13,000 pesos that we had paid every other time suddenly the check was 18,000 pesos. I looked at the receipt and saw that we were being charged for an extra juice which we didn't have and the bitches were charging us for the butter. We asked for the juice to be taken off and were of course suddenly looked at with great suspicion even though we absolutely didn't ask for any extra acid, thank you very much. But the butter charge prevailed which is total bullshit and we walked out of there feeling totally ripped off. The worst part is that I could proclaim I'm never going to go there again, but it's really not a choice.
Mark of course was feeling his insatiable need for beverages and so we hung out while he drank a latte and then we headed back to the room. I took a really good nap while he went out and blogged it up.
After I arrose we headed out for yet another meal (all we've done for 2 months is search for food) and enjoyed some grilled meat. As we headed down the street, amazed by the amount of street performers out on this fine Sunday, I heard the sweet, sweet sound of a marching band. I love the sound of a gaggle of snare drums, the blasting of some horns, a group of bass drums, and the tinkle of xylophones. Mark rolled his eyes as I demanded we hurry to the Plaza Bolivar. It was the changing of the guard and a whole military band was out playing while a team of colorfully uniformed men folded a ginormous Colombian flag in a very awkward choreographed manner. It was really neat to watch and I really enjoyed the music, minus the few bits where a xylophone was definitely a little off. I walked away feeling full of patriotic pride. Even if I'm not from here.
We headed off to yet another cafe where I bought a souvenir sweater and Mark had yet another hot chocolate. I refrained from any beverages as I was saving myself...for ice cream. I had waited until the very end of our time here in Bogotá for a decedant indulgence at Crepes & Waffles. It's a chain of restaurants that has insane desserts and I was going to have one for dinner. At 5pm on this leisurely Sunday we headed to Crepes & Waffles as I dreamed of brownies and nuts and ice cream and syrups. Of gooey warm amazingness. I could see it ahead! There is a pep in my step! We reached the doors with their golden borders. And they were closed.
Saturday, January 12, 2008
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