THE SIXTH SENSE
Shit. Quite literally, shit. It's everywhere. I'm fortunate to live in a neighborhood that is well off enough where many of the residents own dogs, many of which are far too large to be cooped up in an apartment. But I digress, back to the topic at hand, shit. It's funny, I spent my first month here dodging it on every block and, at times, felt like Indiana Jones during his final venture in the Last Crusade. Now? Forget about it. In fact, I often do. It's not until I have a guest in town I realize how prevalent it is on the sidewalks. I feel, almost as if, I have grown a sixth sense that recognizes dog poo and instinctively avoids it. I can count the number of times I have found myself cursing canines this year on one hand, 3*. And two of those were in the first month here!
Unfortunately I don't believe this talent is something that will serve me in the future (Resume, strength: Great foresight in avoiding dog shit). Also, this talent does not extend out into other areas. It does not keep me from stepping into pot holes, avoiding bums, tracking mud or gum through the house, or hiding from Jehovah's witnesses.
*This number excludes the times I'm running for two reasons: purpose and place. The purpose being that I am so focused on many elements, my step, my stride, my cadence, etc., that if I were to concentrate on not painting my shoes with a fresh coat my running form would go to shit. The place is Park Las Heras, the closest park by far to my house, that I have deemed "dog shit park." Many dog walkers take there dogs here for hours on end so that they don't actually have to walk the dogs, brilliant right? Oh, and the idea of cleaning up about your dog's shit here is non-existent...it's fertilizer right?
I BET SHE GIVES GOOD HELMET
There are quite a few people in the city who ride motorcycles, about 80% of whom I'd guestimate don't wear helmets. The odd thing is, they have their helmets with them. Sometimes helmets are placed in their lap, in between them and the steering device (as we all know this increases it's effectiveness 100 fold). Other times it is worn around the arm, with the hand going through the visor area. Last, and my most favorite, are those that have the helmet on but its only half way on so the visor is facing the sky and the bottom part is on the forehead. This position is just ripe for the helmet to fly off into the air and morph into a invisible force field surrounding the rider.
I can only assume there is some silly law on the book saying motorcycle drivers must have a helmet on them, but falls short of saying they need to wear one. The transitive property could also lead us to believe that cars only need to have the word "airbag" printed on the dash instead of actual airbags. Additionally, seat belts are defined as anyone wearing a belt while sitting.
SHORTS
Smile, You're On Candid Camera
Remember those signs in 7-11 in the 1990's? The ones saying "Smile, Your Being Filmed" or something of the like. I'm pretty sure those made their way out with the cassette tape in the US, but never you worry, they are still thriving in this environment (see previous Argentina is the 80's post). Oddly enough, I was walking by a military post and saw those signs posted inside. Is anybody really going to walk past the dual guards with sub-machine guns and think "hey, I'm gonna rob something, oh no, wait! we're being filmed."
RANDOM THOUGHT OF THE WEEK
I've always wanted to flirt with a hot woman on an airplane.
It doesn't really have to go anywhere, though I think it would be even cooler of a story if it did. This dream has become slightly more than just some far away fantasy, as sometimes when choosing my plane tickets, I try to pick a seat that has a higher probability of having a hot woman in it (it's usually when there's only one other seat in the aisle, as two seats could imply a couple. That or I click on the "hot chick seat" button that airlines are offering nowadays, but that usually costs extra). To this day my dream has yet to come to fruition, though I think I'm handicapping myself. If I chose the aisle seat I would be doubling my odds of a possible encounter, but what kind of weird chooses the aisle seat?
Saturday, December 20, 2008
Monday, December 8, 2008
Mom! I'm OK!
No excuses, I missed a blog entry two weeks ago, letting near a full month past without an update. Part of me wants to make excuses: I was waiting for pictures, I had guests, I got sick, I've been busy. Part of me wants to promise that I will be better in the future, a promise you've heard before. All of me realizes that the previous two sentences are the same words uttered by people with addiction problems. Should I be worried?
MARCO!
POLO! If only I could hearken back to the days of carefree pool play during the summers of Richmond. Unfortunately this Polo is much different, and dare I say more ridiculous than the game where we used to pretend to be blind in the water while playing tag. How so you ask? Take generic sport with the objective of scoring more goals than the other team, add one horse and one mallet.
Actually other than the absurd dress code of double golf shirt with two popped collars and a pastel sweater tied around your neck, Polo was actually a pretty fun sport to watch. It was hot as the hubs of hell, but the game can be pretty exciting during a break away (think fast break in basketball).
Fun Fact: The rules of Polo only allow for it to be played right-handed (safety issues) and there have only been three professional southpaws (who played with the right) in the modern era.
GOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOL!!!!!
Sometimes I feel like they have a special announcer just to say the above and I can almost hear him jump the gun when the ball hits the crossbar or something.
As my buddy Will was in town, we decided to go cheer on my favorite team down here, River Plate.
Quick aside: a recurring theme in Argentina is that everything is just about opposite of what you would think it to be. River Plate, for example, one the championship (of about twenty teams) in June, after a three week break the second season began and they finished dead last. How does that happen?
But I digress, back to the journey (everything in Argentina is a journey). Our helpful cabby dropped us off in the best of neighborhoods where we had to navigate between fights, water tanks, and police officers to find a gate to purchase tickets.
Above: Argentine Water Tank, a general sign of safety right?
Of course there’s only one side of the stadium where you can buy the good tickets and we were on the opposite side. Since we were late we decided to opt for the Generales, cheap seats, known for their rowdy and sometimes rioting fans, this was going to be interesting. I was also a bit worried as my friend Katie was coming to meet us. We managed to stay on the far side of the raucous gangs and keep a relatively low profile. I only had to correct Will once when the crowd was whistling (equivalent to booing in the US) and he started clapping, thinking it was to cheer people on the time. The rest of the time was spent clapping, pretending to sing along to the chants (which are non-stop) and me keeping a watchful eye. I planned our exit about five minutes early as River was losing and I didn’t want to get caught up in a crowd of angry fans, but some rather stoic policemen were blocking our way. I guess they thought it was going to rain or something and didn’t want us to get wet, that would explain why they were dressed like they were and why we had to wait twenty minutes (you know, like thunder at a pool).
Above: Police in their "rain gear"
TURKEY DAY
Since Thanksgiving is my favorite holiday and I knew I would be missing it abroad, I decided to organize a festivity down here. It was a pain in the ass but a ton of fun, and I now have a lot more empathy for the matriarchs of families (or whoever generally organizes this event). We rented some cabanas at the river just outside of the city, complete with dining facilities and a swimming pool. After twelve hours of cooking on Wednesday, made easier by the copious amount of libations, I was ready for some celebrating on Thursday.
Above: Most of Thanksgiving Day was spent here
The day did not disappoint. Although it was a bit weird being 85 degrees and sunny on the big day, fun in the sun with fifteen friends in not a bad way to spend a holiday. We didn’t actually end up dining til late, about 8pm (which is early argentine time, but late for thanksgiving dinner, I think) and actually arranged a true feast. Through craftiness and a few people bringing in imports we had it all: turkies, taters, mac and cheese, cranberries stuffing, pumpkin pie, corn, gravy, bread, etc.
THE FEAST. The biggest pain in the ass was lugging the 150+ lbs of food up there as it was a one hour train ride, standing up. We also lacked some preparation and couldn't package everything neatly so some stuff hand to be throw into big plastic bowls for ease of carry. This was all worth it though as two american girls saw my roommate carrying said bowl and said to her friend "I wonder why that guy is carrying a cheese grater." The response: "he must be a traveling chef or something."
A FEW SHORTS:
(readers note: this is a section I’m thinking about sporadically adding, generally of things I have witnessed that are downright silly, but not worthy of commentary)
-when will was hear we saw the President. She was behind a fence, but about thirty feet away from us and had less security than Pacman Jones.
-I watched a guy skid out and fall on his bicycle the other day. I laughed. Then I felt bad as it was an extremely busy intersection and very dangerous. As I got closer I realized why he fell: he was riding his bike with roller blades on. He then sat on the curb and tightened his roller blades, as if their looseness was the reason he couldn’t ride his bike.
-I was reading an article in the local paper yesterday that was talking about the Argentine psyche and it was none too kind, the basic idea being that Portenos were full of themselves and carried about nobody else. The article carried a bit less merit as the editor missed a very important “l” and one line read “the pubic sectors are public.”
RANDOM THOUGHT OF THE WEEK:
Argentina is the 1980’s.
I realize this argument flies in the face of the space-time continuum, the fundamental elements of science and physics, and is probably causing ole Albert to turn over in his grave, but here me out:
1) The most popular concerts held over the past year have included: boy george, Madonna, and Cyndi Lauper
2) The mullet is in full effect, and I mean FULL. Side mullets, mini-mullets, rat tails, layered mullets, and my personal favorite: the buzz cut with three well-spaced bleach blond rat tails hanging off
3) Leg Warmers are fashionable. No joke, I’ve seen multiple pairs being worn during the day. Despite the fact that there is no logical argument for functionality, these days were also far too hot to even make such an argument
4) Spandex is here to stay. Sure it appears more in gyms and this happens in the states, but on men? Also seen it on the street on women, including my favorite type that is really baggy until it reaches mid-thigh, then super tight.
5) My favorite outfit I’ve seen: pink shoes and purple tights. I literally had to stop in the street and marvel until she passed from my sight…nobody else batted an eye.
6) Slap bracelets are still in effect
PS Still looking for New Years resolutions...anyone? anyone? Bueller?
MARCO!
POLO! If only I could hearken back to the days of carefree pool play during the summers of Richmond. Unfortunately this Polo is much different, and dare I say more ridiculous than the game where we used to pretend to be blind in the water while playing tag. How so you ask? Take generic sport with the objective of scoring more goals than the other team, add one horse and one mallet.
Actually other than the absurd dress code of double golf shirt with two popped collars and a pastel sweater tied around your neck, Polo was actually a pretty fun sport to watch. It was hot as the hubs of hell, but the game can be pretty exciting during a break away (think fast break in basketball).
Fun Fact: The rules of Polo only allow for it to be played right-handed (safety issues) and there have only been three professional southpaws (who played with the right) in the modern era.
GOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOL!!!!!
Sometimes I feel like they have a special announcer just to say the above and I can almost hear him jump the gun when the ball hits the crossbar or something.
As my buddy Will was in town, we decided to go cheer on my favorite team down here, River Plate.
Quick aside: a recurring theme in Argentina is that everything is just about opposite of what you would think it to be. River Plate, for example, one the championship (of about twenty teams) in June, after a three week break the second season began and they finished dead last. How does that happen?
But I digress, back to the journey (everything in Argentina is a journey). Our helpful cabby dropped us off in the best of neighborhoods where we had to navigate between fights, water tanks, and police officers to find a gate to purchase tickets.
Above: Argentine Water Tank, a general sign of safety right?Of course there’s only one side of the stadium where you can buy the good tickets and we were on the opposite side. Since we were late we decided to opt for the Generales, cheap seats, known for their rowdy and sometimes rioting fans, this was going to be interesting. I was also a bit worried as my friend Katie was coming to meet us. We managed to stay on the far side of the raucous gangs and keep a relatively low profile. I only had to correct Will once when the crowd was whistling (equivalent to booing in the US) and he started clapping, thinking it was to cheer people on the time. The rest of the time was spent clapping, pretending to sing along to the chants (which are non-stop) and me keeping a watchful eye. I planned our exit about five minutes early as River was losing and I didn’t want to get caught up in a crowd of angry fans, but some rather stoic policemen were blocking our way. I guess they thought it was going to rain or something and didn’t want us to get wet, that would explain why they were dressed like they were and why we had to wait twenty minutes (you know, like thunder at a pool).
Above: Police in their "rain gear"
TURKEY DAY
Since Thanksgiving is my favorite holiday and I knew I would be missing it abroad, I decided to organize a festivity down here. It was a pain in the ass but a ton of fun, and I now have a lot more empathy for the matriarchs of families (or whoever generally organizes this event). We rented some cabanas at the river just outside of the city, complete with dining facilities and a swimming pool. After twelve hours of cooking on Wednesday, made easier by the copious amount of libations, I was ready for some celebrating on Thursday.
Above: Most of Thanksgiving Day was spent here
The day did not disappoint. Although it was a bit weird being 85 degrees and sunny on the big day, fun in the sun with fifteen friends in not a bad way to spend a holiday. We didn’t actually end up dining til late, about 8pm (which is early argentine time, but late for thanksgiving dinner, I think) and actually arranged a true feast. Through craftiness and a few people bringing in imports we had it all: turkies, taters, mac and cheese, cranberries stuffing, pumpkin pie, corn, gravy, bread, etc.
THE FEAST. The biggest pain in the ass was lugging the 150+ lbs of food up there as it was a one hour train ride, standing up. We also lacked some preparation and couldn't package everything neatly so some stuff hand to be throw into big plastic bowls for ease of carry. This was all worth it though as two american girls saw my roommate carrying said bowl and said to her friend "I wonder why that guy is carrying a cheese grater." The response: "he must be a traveling chef or something."
A FEW SHORTS:
(readers note: this is a section I’m thinking about sporadically adding, generally of things I have witnessed that are downright silly, but not worthy of commentary)
-when will was hear we saw the President. She was behind a fence, but about thirty feet away from us and had less security than Pacman Jones.
-I watched a guy skid out and fall on his bicycle the other day. I laughed. Then I felt bad as it was an extremely busy intersection and very dangerous. As I got closer I realized why he fell: he was riding his bike with roller blades on. He then sat on the curb and tightened his roller blades, as if their looseness was the reason he couldn’t ride his bike.
-I was reading an article in the local paper yesterday that was talking about the Argentine psyche and it was none too kind, the basic idea being that Portenos were full of themselves and carried about nobody else. The article carried a bit less merit as the editor missed a very important “l” and one line read “the pubic sectors are public.”
RANDOM THOUGHT OF THE WEEK:
Argentina is the 1980’s.
I realize this argument flies in the face of the space-time continuum, the fundamental elements of science and physics, and is probably causing ole Albert to turn over in his grave, but here me out:
1) The most popular concerts held over the past year have included: boy george, Madonna, and Cyndi Lauper
2) The mullet is in full effect, and I mean FULL. Side mullets, mini-mullets, rat tails, layered mullets, and my personal favorite: the buzz cut with three well-spaced bleach blond rat tails hanging off
3) Leg Warmers are fashionable. No joke, I’ve seen multiple pairs being worn during the day. Despite the fact that there is no logical argument for functionality, these days were also far too hot to even make such an argument
4) Spandex is here to stay. Sure it appears more in gyms and this happens in the states, but on men? Also seen it on the street on women, including my favorite type that is really baggy until it reaches mid-thigh, then super tight.
5) My favorite outfit I’ve seen: pink shoes and purple tights. I literally had to stop in the street and marvel until she passed from my sight…nobody else batted an eye.
6) Slap bracelets are still in effect
PS Still looking for New Years resolutions...anyone? anyone? Bueller?
Monday, November 10, 2008
A short look back
No major news stories this past week, though I have heard some rumblings about some kind of election or something that happened past Tuesday. As a result, I'm going to try a different approach and write a collection of shorts.
GOBAMA!
Apparrently this is some clever individuals combination of "Go" + "Obama," I get it. What I don't get is how Alabama football (currently ranked #1 in the nation) fans never found some sort of way to manipulate said signs to cheer for their team. The actual reason I bring this up is the question asked on a post from my last blog:
What's the atmosphere/sentiment down there post-US election?
Argentina's economy is tied rather close to the US, as well as their culture and their politik (or so they think). Although the day to day life is really no different, there is an out-pouring of support for Obama. A recent poll showed 70% of Argentines supported our President-elect and I can see why. Objectively speaking, a younger black man is pretty far on the opposite end of the spectrum of our past presidents, those being old white dudes. If nothing else, and I say this by mere observation, Obama represents a symbol from America to the World of "we want to change."
AMERICA THE BEAUTIFUL
Never one to use my blog for political purposes, I did want to take a non-partisan look back at the election, for those of you who haven't had enough country. It gives me great pride to see the world taking such a close interest in our election. In a time when the dollar was town, China and India are on the rise, and rumors have already started about the collapse of the great western empire, this election has shown both the beauty of democracy and the staying power of the american will. I doubt, in my life time, that there has ever been an election more closely watched than this. Countries spanning the globe tuned in, and front pages world-wide reported the results. Short of living in the remotest of remote areas, a extremely large majority of the world's population knows who the next president of the united states of america.
Think about that...how many world leaders can you name? I'd be suprised if it's five or greater, and I think all of my audience are college (and even post-graduate educated folk). Meanwhile, people who can't even read in Kenya, Argentina, and various other remote third world countries know at least one, and that's the US president. Some may take the fact that most Americans probably couldn't name five world leaders as an show of how ego-centric we are, but that's a discussion for a later time, and i believe Otter said it best with "I put it to you, Greg - isn't this an indictment of our entire American society? Well, you can do whatever you want to us, but we're not going to sit here and listen to you badmouth the United States of America. Gentlemen!"
THESE SCHNOZEBERRIES TASTE LIKE SNOZEBERRIES
I started a new diet last wednesday. It's a bit radical and has almost no sugar or carbohydrates, very similar to the South Beach but a bit more extreme. For those of you wondering why, I think the best answer was the one I gave to my roommate: Cause all I've been doing is eating and drinking for the last eight months.
If you ever tried a similar diet, you know what I'm going through. For those of you who haven't, however, let me fill you in. Sugar is actually a bit of a drug, especially processed sugar. True, your body needs sugar to produce insulin and survive, but most of America has essentially over-loaded their system with processed sugar. Your body the converts the sugars inefficiently and starts to treat natural sugars (ie fruit) the same as processed sugars (candy, granola bars, etc). Long story short, a large minority of americans are obese, diabetes could drain our health care system, and for the first time in the history of the US, the life expectancy in younger generations is lower than that of their parents.
Two weeks is the initial and most extreme phase, almost no sugars. I've had some trouble sleeping, been moody, and even had bizzarre day dreams. This is a bit freaky that sugar withdrawal can do that to a person, but my day dreams have been nothing but funny. The other day on the bus I envisioned (it was near hallucination) having myself crawl inside one of those ice cream freezers at a local shop, ten minutes is all i'd need before going into insulin induced shock. The next was after a swim workout. I had forgotten to eat beforehand, and even drink water. I finished the workout absolutely ravished and was craving everything. On my way to find water I passed a guy carrying a two liter bottle of pepsi that was so cold it was literally dripping with perspiration. Although I havent had a soda in almost four years and rarely miss it, I envisioned showering myself in it and there may have even been music playing in the background. 8 more days...
RESOLUTION
Those of you who know me well, know I love New Years resolutions. It all started junior year of college when I decided I was eating too much crap. Instead of doing the obvious thing like stop going to fast food or eat in moderation, I gave up french fries. From there, the legend was born. I now give up something every year, and take that time to decide whether I really want it in my life. Despite Jimmy's best efforts of trying to show some fried taters between my knashed teeth, its been nearly five years since I've had a fry. Some of the others:
2005: Soda, never went back.
2006: Alcohol (in north america, i spent a week in London), went back. What's better in life than a beer with pizza or wings, or just on a hot day. Also a nice glass of red wine with a good italian meal, I couldn't deprive myself of that.
2007: Desserts. Also went back, a great dessert is pure bliss.
2008: Potato chips, not sure but am thinking about staying off them.
2009: ?
I'd actually beg your help for 2009. I'll be in Argentina for part of the time, traveling through south america another part, probably richmond for a bit, and hopefully San Francisco. Due to unknown variables I can't give up my initial resolution: fast food. What happens if I'm on an 18 hour bus ride and the only stop they make is McDonalds? I'd ask for suggestions, serious or funny, emailed or posted, and I'll put my three favorite to a vote on the blog. thanks
AWWWWWKWARD
I was down in a main tourism area this past weekend, shopping for a map, when I experienced one of the more awkward times of my life. When one of my friends was going to try on a hat, the cross-eyed cashier (a guy in his young 20's) asked me what BJ meant. In argentina, it means boca juniors, one of the most popular teams in the country (and most recognizable in the world). I tried to give him the literal translation twice, but it just wasn't registering, so I gave him a couple translations into Spanish. He immediately blushed and apologized for bringing up a taboo subject, then continued to talk about it for the next three minutes in front of my friend and various other women.
RANDOM THOUGHT OF THE WEEK
I wonder if Toucan Sam, the lovable and more than slightly annoying bird in the Froot Loops commercial, just had a nose for Fruit Loops or if he had hyper-sensitive olfactory sense. I'd guess the later because the former is far too fictional. Who smells fruit loops anyways? I never did. Could you imagine sitting down in front of your bowl, milk freshly poured, and leaning your head down to get a big ole whiff of artificial flavoring and coloring?
The latter really isn't a much better option though. If he's able to smell Fruit Loops so well, the he can smell other, stronger smells even better, like shit. Walking around and smelling shit 90% of the time would not be worth the other 10% of Fruit Loops smells, at least not in my book.
GOBAMA!
Apparrently this is some clever individuals combination of "Go" + "Obama," I get it. What I don't get is how Alabama football (currently ranked #1 in the nation) fans never found some sort of way to manipulate said signs to cheer for their team. The actual reason I bring this up is the question asked on a post from my last blog:
What's the atmosphere/sentiment down there post-US election?
Argentina's economy is tied rather close to the US, as well as their culture and their politik (or so they think). Although the day to day life is really no different, there is an out-pouring of support for Obama. A recent poll showed 70% of Argentines supported our President-elect and I can see why. Objectively speaking, a younger black man is pretty far on the opposite end of the spectrum of our past presidents, those being old white dudes. If nothing else, and I say this by mere observation, Obama represents a symbol from America to the World of "we want to change."
AMERICA THE BEAUTIFUL
Never one to use my blog for political purposes, I did want to take a non-partisan look back at the election, for those of you who haven't had enough country. It gives me great pride to see the world taking such a close interest in our election. In a time when the dollar was town, China and India are on the rise, and rumors have already started about the collapse of the great western empire, this election has shown both the beauty of democracy and the staying power of the american will. I doubt, in my life time, that there has ever been an election more closely watched than this. Countries spanning the globe tuned in, and front pages world-wide reported the results. Short of living in the remotest of remote areas, a extremely large majority of the world's population knows who the next president of the united states of america.
Think about that...how many world leaders can you name? I'd be suprised if it's five or greater, and I think all of my audience are college (and even post-graduate educated folk). Meanwhile, people who can't even read in Kenya, Argentina, and various other remote third world countries know at least one, and that's the US president. Some may take the fact that most Americans probably couldn't name five world leaders as an show of how ego-centric we are, but that's a discussion for a later time, and i believe Otter said it best with "I put it to you, Greg - isn't this an indictment of our entire American society? Well, you can do whatever you want to us, but we're not going to sit here and listen to you badmouth the United States of America. Gentlemen!"
THESE SCHNOZEBERRIES TASTE LIKE SNOZEBERRIES
I started a new diet last wednesday. It's a bit radical and has almost no sugar or carbohydrates, very similar to the South Beach but a bit more extreme. For those of you wondering why, I think the best answer was the one I gave to my roommate: Cause all I've been doing is eating and drinking for the last eight months.
If you ever tried a similar diet, you know what I'm going through. For those of you who haven't, however, let me fill you in. Sugar is actually a bit of a drug, especially processed sugar. True, your body needs sugar to produce insulin and survive, but most of America has essentially over-loaded their system with processed sugar. Your body the converts the sugars inefficiently and starts to treat natural sugars (ie fruit) the same as processed sugars (candy, granola bars, etc). Long story short, a large minority of americans are obese, diabetes could drain our health care system, and for the first time in the history of the US, the life expectancy in younger generations is lower than that of their parents.
Two weeks is the initial and most extreme phase, almost no sugars. I've had some trouble sleeping, been moody, and even had bizzarre day dreams. This is a bit freaky that sugar withdrawal can do that to a person, but my day dreams have been nothing but funny. The other day on the bus I envisioned (it was near hallucination) having myself crawl inside one of those ice cream freezers at a local shop, ten minutes is all i'd need before going into insulin induced shock. The next was after a swim workout. I had forgotten to eat beforehand, and even drink water. I finished the workout absolutely ravished and was craving everything. On my way to find water I passed a guy carrying a two liter bottle of pepsi that was so cold it was literally dripping with perspiration. Although I havent had a soda in almost four years and rarely miss it, I envisioned showering myself in it and there may have even been music playing in the background. 8 more days...
RESOLUTION
Those of you who know me well, know I love New Years resolutions. It all started junior year of college when I decided I was eating too much crap. Instead of doing the obvious thing like stop going to fast food or eat in moderation, I gave up french fries. From there, the legend was born. I now give up something every year, and take that time to decide whether I really want it in my life. Despite Jimmy's best efforts of trying to show some fried taters between my knashed teeth, its been nearly five years since I've had a fry. Some of the others:
2005: Soda, never went back.
2006: Alcohol (in north america, i spent a week in London), went back. What's better in life than a beer with pizza or wings, or just on a hot day. Also a nice glass of red wine with a good italian meal, I couldn't deprive myself of that.
2007: Desserts. Also went back, a great dessert is pure bliss.
2008: Potato chips, not sure but am thinking about staying off them.
2009: ?
I'd actually beg your help for 2009. I'll be in Argentina for part of the time, traveling through south america another part, probably richmond for a bit, and hopefully San Francisco. Due to unknown variables I can't give up my initial resolution: fast food. What happens if I'm on an 18 hour bus ride and the only stop they make is McDonalds? I'd ask for suggestions, serious or funny, emailed or posted, and I'll put my three favorite to a vote on the blog. thanks
AWWWWWKWARD
I was down in a main tourism area this past weekend, shopping for a map, when I experienced one of the more awkward times of my life. When one of my friends was going to try on a hat, the cross-eyed cashier (a guy in his young 20's) asked me what BJ meant. In argentina, it means boca juniors, one of the most popular teams in the country (and most recognizable in the world). I tried to give him the literal translation twice, but it just wasn't registering, so I gave him a couple translations into Spanish. He immediately blushed and apologized for bringing up a taboo subject, then continued to talk about it for the next three minutes in front of my friend and various other women.
RANDOM THOUGHT OF THE WEEK
I wonder if Toucan Sam, the lovable and more than slightly annoying bird in the Froot Loops commercial, just had a nose for Fruit Loops or if he had hyper-sensitive olfactory sense. I'd guess the later because the former is far too fictional. Who smells fruit loops anyways? I never did. Could you imagine sitting down in front of your bowl, milk freshly poured, and leaning your head down to get a big ole whiff of artificial flavoring and coloring?
The latter really isn't a much better option though. If he's able to smell Fruit Loops so well, the he can smell other, stronger smells even better, like shit. Walking around and smelling shit 90% of the time would not be worth the other 10% of Fruit Loops smells, at least not in my book.
Monday, November 3, 2008
Really? Again?
For those of you who read my European entry on Octoberfest, you, like me, would be wondering how someone could possibly ever pull such a feat, much less repeat it. For those of you who haven't read said entry, I'd highly recommend it (see Beta blog v1.0).
My friend Tom arrived on Friday morning for a short five night stay, but I'm getting ahead of myself. The real beginning to this story goes back two weeks to when my parents were here. I took my folks out to a local brew pub, one of the few that actually makes good beer, to have a pint. On the table I noticed promos for a Oktoberfest celebration they were having the following week (Oct 23-25). With a slight longing for days of yore and phantom pains from my liver at the mere mention of said event, the promise of german food, beer, and music was too much to pass up. Before realizing what I was getting myself into I sent out an email to prepare the crew... this was going to be a big night. As Friday the 24th would be my buddy's first day, and Patrick's (my roommate) buddies last night, all we had to do was wait.
I actually ended up meeting a friend of a friend there for a pint. He was new to Argentina and i figured I'd let him in on one of the better bars, as well as scope out the scene. Much to my surprise, they were having chugging contests, my achilles heel. They were mid-contest when I arrived so all I could do was watch as argentines slowly drank and spilled beer in a terribly public manner. The mere idea of the winner that evening drinking his beer in eight seconds and spilling a quarter of it got my competitive juices flowing. I befriended the bartender and made sure I would end up competing the next evening.
Fast forward to friday evening. We arrive at the bar at 10pm as that's when the "fondo blanco" is supposed to start. Silly me for believing it would occur on time. Perhaps it was nervous energy, or excitement for Tom being in town, but I managed to be well on my way with more than a few beers and a shot of whiskey by the time the contest actually started. Two fields of 6 in the male competition and one field of six women, the winners meet for the final. Round 1: I lost. Though, as it turns out, the winner just poured his entire beer on his shirt. My entourage pointed this out with various gestures and curses in english and spanish and I made my way into the finals. The finals, of course, happened about two hours after the first round, which was the exact amount of time I needed to repeat my previous drinking mistakes. Round 2: the championship round, I won. And what did I win? ANOTHER BEER! They gave me a mug to and allowed me to choose what type I wanted. Dazed and disoriented, I just pointed to the nearest keg. Pictures actually tell this story better than words, thanks to Katie for snapping some:
OCKTOBERFEST
The beginning
the end of the contest. You'll notice a little spill on my shirt, which the other competitor had too (as well as some beer left in his glass).
Hilarity actually ensued after said event as my buddy Tom is probably in about the same shape as I. Those who don't know Tom, this guy has the kindest heart in the world and is one of the most un-assuming and un-threatening people you'd ever meet. Tom, the goofy putz that he is, was so excited about being in Argentina he began walking up to every Argentine girl and saying "hola." A little liquid courage may have helped to, but the problem was that Tom only knows five spanish words. Thus, when they replied all he could say was "bonita," shrug his shoulders, and laugh. I'd imagine there were probably about 55 girls at this bar, and Tom probably tried this technique with 49 of them.
As for me, the bartenders invited me behind the bar for some reason. I'm pretty sure it was for some announcement or something quick; however, one of the last things I remember is that I decided to stay behind the bar for at least an hour. Consequently, I don't remember much of the rest of the night and my friends (in better shape than I) don't remember paying for drinks at the end of the night.
me behind the bar, probably telling the bartender how to do his job
I'm starting to see how I ended up in the shape that I was in
me at the end of the night
In related news, I'm reconsidering my position on drinking
Random Thought of the Week
Is change (as in coinage) feminine? This actually all stems from the shortage of coins and their absolute neccesity within Buenos Aires. I can't imagine another day-to-day item more immasculinating than a coin pursue, but am open to suggestions. The more I thought about it, however, the credit I give to this argument. It may be coincidence that the word "peso" (whole monetary unit) is masculine and "moneda" (coinage) is feminine, but I think this phenominom prevades into the US culture too. How many men do you know that carry a change purse? None for me, every guy I know has a change jar or container that he puts whatever was in his pocket in at the end of the day. Women? Most all women seem to have billfolds that also carry change. What necesitates them needed change more than men? Or why can't men have change areas built into their wallets?
Perhaps this discussion isn't brought up and these questions remain unanswered for me due to the fact that their answers really would benefit almost no one.
Tuesday, October 21, 2008
The Beverly Hillbillies Go to Argentina
A common phrase uttered by myself and my parents anytime we stood out during their visit down here, which I guess was essentially all the time.
Though there is no valid excuse for not having updated the blog in three weeks, things were quite busy in preparation for and during the stay of my parents.
Their visit was a fun one, though quite exhausting on both parts. I also have to admit my parental units are more travel savvy than I initially though. Armed with a very few words of spanish they made their way too and fro the airport and were able to handle themselves quite well when I couldnt be their guide. Much of the trip was consumed by exactly what you do in Buenos Aires: eat, drink, and shop. The highlight, however, was our side trip to Ushuaia.
THE LAND OF FIRE
Tierra de Fuego, spanish for the land of fuego, is home to the most southern city in the world: Ushuaia. Tierra del Fuego is actually a bit of a misnomer as the cold tempuratures and Andes Mountain range lead to a land covered in ice. The name is actually derived from Magellan, the first to navigate the Beagle Channel. He saw small fires on many of the islands that were populated by local indians (all of which have now been eradicated) and thus gave it the name Land of Fire.
As our flight down there was at 5:30 AM, we actually thought it better to stay up all night and get to the airport early given that Aerolineas Argentinas is prone to delays and mistakes. It turns out we were right. As soon as we arrived, dry-eyed and weary, I get a 3:20AM call from the airline saying our flight has been delayed two more hours. Bank error not in your favor. Sitting around for three and a half more hours was utterly miserable. For those of you doing the math at home you may be thinking "his flight is at 730, but he sat around until 6:50? how does that work? what about security, gate check, etc?" At 650 we got in a line of about 150 people since the gate was yet to be opened. With only one metal detector it took us a mere 10 minutes to get through the line. So, in answer to your question, we managed said feat through complete and utter recklessness on behalf of Argentine security. I'd say roughly 2/3 of the people walking through the metal detector set it off, none were stopped and not a single bag was further inspected. We made it through, made our plane, and made it alive...that's all that counts right?
Ushuaia is crazy beautiful. After a great seafood lunch (quite lacking in BsAs) and a long rest, we took a tour of the beagle channel. We explored the flora, fauna, and history of said channel and it was quite enchanting, even on two hours of sleep. The next day we were slow to get up but made our way out for a hike in the national park that afternoon. We were told the hike was "not too difficult" but didn't realize those giving such advice were being quite literal. Although it took us about 50% longer than expected, the scenery was nothing short of breath-taking. Lake meets mountains, wildflowers, and wild horses. That night we dined at our hotel, which is known as one of the best in South America. The food was exquisite as I indulged in the king crab (when I can get seafood these days, I take advantage) and my folks had the trout. Our last day in the city we went up a ski lift for a minor hike (it actually was minor this time). The ski season was over but there was still quite a bit of snow on the mountains especially once you get above the tree line. As my dad was equipped only with loafers and mom was still a bit weary after the previous hike, I ventured up the mountain solo. It felt like 30 minutes on a stairmaster on the hard setting and I felt a bit weird half way up (above the tree line) surrounded by snow but having shed my jacket and fleece and rolled back my sleeves. Had I ventured another 45 minutes up the mountain I would have reached the martial glacier, but I was not prepared for such a feet. Instead of clumsily meandering down the mountain I opted for the funner and faster method: I created a sled out of my jacket and butt-slided all the way down. Later we checked out the old prison, which was packed with all sorts of historic treasures, but after an hour or so we were too tired to appreciate it and went back to the hotel to rest up before departure. If you can ever make it down that far, I'd highly recommend it.
Folks mid-mountain with the Beagle Channel as a backdrop.
Duck tape surrounds the load-bearing part of the chair lift. Should I be worried? No pase nada!
RANDOM THOUGHT OF THE WEEK
Is it some sort of unwritten (or perhaps even written) rule that, when in a museum, one must walk with their hands folded behind their back?
Though there is no valid excuse for not having updated the blog in three weeks, things were quite busy in preparation for and during the stay of my parents.
Their visit was a fun one, though quite exhausting on both parts. I also have to admit my parental units are more travel savvy than I initially though. Armed with a very few words of spanish they made their way too and fro the airport and were able to handle themselves quite well when I couldnt be their guide. Much of the trip was consumed by exactly what you do in Buenos Aires: eat, drink, and shop. The highlight, however, was our side trip to Ushuaia.
THE LAND OF FIRE
Tierra de Fuego, spanish for the land of fuego, is home to the most southern city in the world: Ushuaia. Tierra del Fuego is actually a bit of a misnomer as the cold tempuratures and Andes Mountain range lead to a land covered in ice. The name is actually derived from Magellan, the first to navigate the Beagle Channel. He saw small fires on many of the islands that were populated by local indians (all of which have now been eradicated) and thus gave it the name Land of Fire.
As our flight down there was at 5:30 AM, we actually thought it better to stay up all night and get to the airport early given that Aerolineas Argentinas is prone to delays and mistakes. It turns out we were right. As soon as we arrived, dry-eyed and weary, I get a 3:20AM call from the airline saying our flight has been delayed two more hours. Bank error not in your favor. Sitting around for three and a half more hours was utterly miserable. For those of you doing the math at home you may be thinking "his flight is at 730, but he sat around until 6:50? how does that work? what about security, gate check, etc?" At 650 we got in a line of about 150 people since the gate was yet to be opened. With only one metal detector it took us a mere 10 minutes to get through the line. So, in answer to your question, we managed said feat through complete and utter recklessness on behalf of Argentine security. I'd say roughly 2/3 of the people walking through the metal detector set it off, none were stopped and not a single bag was further inspected. We made it through, made our plane, and made it alive...that's all that counts right?
Ushuaia is crazy beautiful. After a great seafood lunch (quite lacking in BsAs) and a long rest, we took a tour of the beagle channel. We explored the flora, fauna, and history of said channel and it was quite enchanting, even on two hours of sleep. The next day we were slow to get up but made our way out for a hike in the national park that afternoon. We were told the hike was "not too difficult" but didn't realize those giving such advice were being quite literal. Although it took us about 50% longer than expected, the scenery was nothing short of breath-taking. Lake meets mountains, wildflowers, and wild horses. That night we dined at our hotel, which is known as one of the best in South America. The food was exquisite as I indulged in the king crab (when I can get seafood these days, I take advantage) and my folks had the trout. Our last day in the city we went up a ski lift for a minor hike (it actually was minor this time). The ski season was over but there was still quite a bit of snow on the mountains especially once you get above the tree line. As my dad was equipped only with loafers and mom was still a bit weary after the previous hike, I ventured up the mountain solo. It felt like 30 minutes on a stairmaster on the hard setting and I felt a bit weird half way up (above the tree line) surrounded by snow but having shed my jacket and fleece and rolled back my sleeves. Had I ventured another 45 minutes up the mountain I would have reached the martial glacier, but I was not prepared for such a feet. Instead of clumsily meandering down the mountain I opted for the funner and faster method: I created a sled out of my jacket and butt-slided all the way down. Later we checked out the old prison, which was packed with all sorts of historic treasures, but after an hour or so we were too tired to appreciate it and went back to the hotel to rest up before departure. If you can ever make it down that far, I'd highly recommend it.
Folks mid-mountain with the Beagle Channel as a backdrop.
Duck tape surrounds the load-bearing part of the chair lift. Should I be worried? No pase nada!
RANDOM THOUGHT OF THE WEEK
Is it some sort of unwritten (or perhaps even written) rule that, when in a museum, one must walk with their hands folded behind their back?
Sunday, September 28, 2008
Video Killed the Radio Blog
Ok, so this blog actually has no affiliation with a radio, but I will never apologize for somehow fitting the Buggles into my misadventures.
As I figured both readers and writer alike would enjoy a break from my long-winded memoirs, I thought now might be a good time to share a few of my favorite commercials from down here.
A Few Quick Notes:
1) I'm quitting my job. I've already put in my two weeks and will be finishing up this week. As much as I hate to quit things, I found the work environment turning me into someone I'm not and thought it better for everyone if we parted ways. An added bonus is that you don't have to hear me gripe about that anymore.
2) There will be no Random Thought of the Week this week, as the argentine commercials I am supplying will cover that aspect completely.
3) For those of you disheartened in the lack of reader material this week, I can only apologize and offer a few quick reads as something to tide you over 'til next week: Don Quixote, War and Peace, or Atlas Shrugged.
VIDEO 1
Both clever and cute. The thing I love most about this commercial is the song. The artist is Aselin Debeson. I haven't really listened to much of her other stuff (there's not much) and this song was, I believe, actually just recorded for the commercial (my empirical evidence being it's only a little over a minute).
VIDEO 2
I guess the recurring theme is the music in these commercials, though the dancing is also worth noting here (as it resembles my own). The creepy guy in the background is kind of funny too. The most ridiculous part is that there is absolutely no connection between the commercial and the product/service being offered. For those of you without a Spanish tongue, please take a second to guess then check out the answer (at the bottom of this post).
VIDEO 3
Another one that I essentially like because of the song...there's just something about it. Kind of chuckle-worthy too. Unfortunately this song was also made just for the commercial, but it is based off of "Elephant Gun" by the band Beirut. That song, and their Postcards from Italy are both great so check them out if you get a chance.
VIDEO 4
I'm assuming this one probably aired in the US but figured I'd share it anyway. A great collection of olympics clips put to this song makes for an amazing commercial. More than anything, I think it really summarizes the duality of the olympic spirit: nations competing in sports instead of conflicts and courage through competition.
ANSWER: A fixed-time period mortgage.
As I figured both readers and writer alike would enjoy a break from my long-winded memoirs, I thought now might be a good time to share a few of my favorite commercials from down here.
A Few Quick Notes:
1) I'm quitting my job. I've already put in my two weeks and will be finishing up this week. As much as I hate to quit things, I found the work environment turning me into someone I'm not and thought it better for everyone if we parted ways. An added bonus is that you don't have to hear me gripe about that anymore.
2) There will be no Random Thought of the Week this week, as the argentine commercials I am supplying will cover that aspect completely.
3) For those of you disheartened in the lack of reader material this week, I can only apologize and offer a few quick reads as something to tide you over 'til next week: Don Quixote, War and Peace, or Atlas Shrugged.
VIDEO 1
Both clever and cute. The thing I love most about this commercial is the song. The artist is Aselin Debeson. I haven't really listened to much of her other stuff (there's not much) and this song was, I believe, actually just recorded for the commercial (my empirical evidence being it's only a little over a minute).
VIDEO 2
I guess the recurring theme is the music in these commercials, though the dancing is also worth noting here (as it resembles my own). The creepy guy in the background is kind of funny too. The most ridiculous part is that there is absolutely no connection between the commercial and the product/service being offered. For those of you without a Spanish tongue, please take a second to guess then check out the answer (at the bottom of this post).
VIDEO 3
Another one that I essentially like because of the song...there's just something about it. Kind of chuckle-worthy too. Unfortunately this song was also made just for the commercial, but it is based off of "Elephant Gun" by the band Beirut. That song, and their Postcards from Italy are both great so check them out if you get a chance.
VIDEO 4
I'm assuming this one probably aired in the US but figured I'd share it anyway. A great collection of olympics clips put to this song makes for an amazing commercial. More than anything, I think it really summarizes the duality of the olympic spirit: nations competing in sports instead of conflicts and courage through competition.
ANSWER: A fixed-time period mortgage.
Monday, September 22, 2008
Slow News Week
"THAT'S SO TABU!"
The one noteworthy piece of news occurred this past Saturday, during my friend's asado (bbq). A couple other friends had brought over TABU, the spanish version of TABOO. I was tentative to play as the last time I did so ended rather abruptly seven years ago. Freshman year of college and the word was "sleigh." Sounds simple but its just obscure enough that, when you take out the five words you can't say, there are very few options. The clever pup that I was, however, decided to borrow a tune from a christmas jingle and started to sing "______ bells ring a ling, ding ding ding-a-ling do." Obvious right? My teammate blanked. This was the first word of the minute, and as we both grew more frustrated I started to sing it louder and faster...didn't help. Finally at the end of the minute I screamed out "SANTA RIDES IN ONE YOU ASSHOLE!" Santa was one of the five forbidden words and I thought that had ended my short-lived Taboo career.
Now that I'm older and more mature (yeah, right) I felt I could handle it this time. No real eruptions, at least not from me anyways, and Spanish Tabu was rather fun. It's not nearly as hard to talk around some things in spanish as I thought, especially since that's what you do most of the time when learning a new language. The other fun difference in the game, besides the oh-so-cute spelling, is that instead of an electronic buzzer this game has a squeaky dog chew toy.
I'VE GOT ANOTHER MEETING WITH THE BOBS
I never thought I could have likened teaching to an office job, but I was wrong. You know that scene in Office Space where Peterman is meeting with "the Bobs" and tells them straight to their face that he really only works about fifteen solid minutes in a given week? Well, I had one of those moments. Some may argue that Peterman says this because he is still under the hypnotism but given that this occurs long after his original actions I think he says it cause he truly realizes how messed up the system is in that idiots get promoted. He knows that no bad, and perhaps only good, can come from his confession.
So the other day my boss and I were talking of possibly changing my schedule a bit. Currently in the afternoon there are 10 hours of work with children in a given week. Since my position is a bit odd, I work three with the bilingual children (who I love) and four with the sixth grade ESL children (who I like despite the fact the school lets them run all over the teachers). Generally the other two periods would be planning for every teacher, but that only leaves me with 9 hours of work with children. The other contributing factor is that I'm supposed to split my time evenly between the 6th grade classes, working one hour with each of them (there are four each week). Since my bosses never came up with a solution to this problem, I made my own: an extra planning period (and to be fair this was the exact same schedule the person I took over for had).
So as my boss and I are discussing my new schedule she brings up my planning periods: one on monday and one on thursday. Never one to lie, I corrected her and mentioned the additional planning period on Monday. She looked a bit puzzled and murmured how that couldn't be right and that I must be the luckiest teacher in school. I shrugged my shoulders and that was the end of the conversation. Are we calling it luck? There are various words I would use and many more phrases, most of which involve choice four letter words, to describe the situation I'm in and "luck" is not one of them.
RANDOM THOUGHT OF THE WEEK
I love the creation of celebrity from absurdity. Let me specify as I'm not talking about idiotic people like Paris Hilton: I love Yanni. Other than being a musician and looking ridiculous, I know nothing about him. I couldn't tell you one song of his and am only slightly confident he plays the flute (and would imagine its some woodwind with a sillier name like Piccolo). That said, I love Yanni and have no idea why, though think it has something to do with the 1/2 hour infomercials I used to watch when I was sick from school. The other day I found a folded up Yanni shirt in my laundry and was thrilled. This wasn't a cd release or even a concert shirt, it simply had a picture of Yanni on the front and his name scrolled down the side. I can't explain it but I thought I had been blessed by the gods, I immediately put it on and headed for our night out in a jazz club. My bubble was burst, however, when my roommate informs me that it actually belongs to our mutual friend beth and wasn't just a random gift the laundry gods had mixed into my clothes. The following is a verbatim text dialogue that transpired and I promise alcohol had no influence in the conversation.
Daniel: Do you own a Yanni shirt?
Beth: Dude that my prize possession. Dont let anything happen to it. Im wearing that to my dissertation defense
D: wearin it now And lovin it! Funny story, may be mine now!
B: No effing way buddy. Anne even asked me where it was when she was here. Id give you my grandmothers wedding band but not the yanni shirt
D: Sold!
B: Ps Anne says he looks like me if I transitioned to male. He creepily does look exactly like my cousin.
D: Good you can take a picture of him and put it on a shirt until your grandamas ring gets here
B: R u drunk?
D: Drunk on yanni awesomeness!
B: Listen, I'd really love to give it to u but it was the first thing anne gave me when we started dating. Sentimental value and all
D: I thought the idiot laundry ladies put it with my stuff by accident (fate) and was so excited!
B: Haha nope. I am the idiot in this case.
D: But now Im more let down than that xmas where my parents told me they gave my super nintendo to charity.
Next day
Daniel to Beth: I'm wearing it again. You need to take this thing away from me! I have a sickness...Save me from myself!
Postscript: Beth and I have since worked out a joint custody agreement for the shirt.
The one noteworthy piece of news occurred this past Saturday, during my friend's asado (bbq). A couple other friends had brought over TABU, the spanish version of TABOO. I was tentative to play as the last time I did so ended rather abruptly seven years ago. Freshman year of college and the word was "sleigh." Sounds simple but its just obscure enough that, when you take out the five words you can't say, there are very few options. The clever pup that I was, however, decided to borrow a tune from a christmas jingle and started to sing "______ bells ring a ling, ding ding ding-a-ling do." Obvious right? My teammate blanked. This was the first word of the minute, and as we both grew more frustrated I started to sing it louder and faster...didn't help. Finally at the end of the minute I screamed out "SANTA RIDES IN ONE YOU ASSHOLE!" Santa was one of the five forbidden words and I thought that had ended my short-lived Taboo career.
Now that I'm older and more mature (yeah, right) I felt I could handle it this time. No real eruptions, at least not from me anyways, and Spanish Tabu was rather fun. It's not nearly as hard to talk around some things in spanish as I thought, especially since that's what you do most of the time when learning a new language. The other fun difference in the game, besides the oh-so-cute spelling, is that instead of an electronic buzzer this game has a squeaky dog chew toy.
I'VE GOT ANOTHER MEETING WITH THE BOBS
I never thought I could have likened teaching to an office job, but I was wrong. You know that scene in Office Space where Peterman is meeting with "the Bobs" and tells them straight to their face that he really only works about fifteen solid minutes in a given week? Well, I had one of those moments. Some may argue that Peterman says this because he is still under the hypnotism but given that this occurs long after his original actions I think he says it cause he truly realizes how messed up the system is in that idiots get promoted. He knows that no bad, and perhaps only good, can come from his confession.
So the other day my boss and I were talking of possibly changing my schedule a bit. Currently in the afternoon there are 10 hours of work with children in a given week. Since my position is a bit odd, I work three with the bilingual children (who I love) and four with the sixth grade ESL children (who I like despite the fact the school lets them run all over the teachers). Generally the other two periods would be planning for every teacher, but that only leaves me with 9 hours of work with children. The other contributing factor is that I'm supposed to split my time evenly between the 6th grade classes, working one hour with each of them (there are four each week). Since my bosses never came up with a solution to this problem, I made my own: an extra planning period (and to be fair this was the exact same schedule the person I took over for had).
So as my boss and I are discussing my new schedule she brings up my planning periods: one on monday and one on thursday. Never one to lie, I corrected her and mentioned the additional planning period on Monday. She looked a bit puzzled and murmured how that couldn't be right and that I must be the luckiest teacher in school. I shrugged my shoulders and that was the end of the conversation. Are we calling it luck? There are various words I would use and many more phrases, most of which involve choice four letter words, to describe the situation I'm in and "luck" is not one of them.
RANDOM THOUGHT OF THE WEEK
I love the creation of celebrity from absurdity. Let me specify as I'm not talking about idiotic people like Paris Hilton: I love Yanni. Other than being a musician and looking ridiculous, I know nothing about him. I couldn't tell you one song of his and am only slightly confident he plays the flute (and would imagine its some woodwind with a sillier name like Piccolo). That said, I love Yanni and have no idea why, though think it has something to do with the 1/2 hour infomercials I used to watch when I was sick from school. The other day I found a folded up Yanni shirt in my laundry and was thrilled. This wasn't a cd release or even a concert shirt, it simply had a picture of Yanni on the front and his name scrolled down the side. I can't explain it but I thought I had been blessed by the gods, I immediately put it on and headed for our night out in a jazz club. My bubble was burst, however, when my roommate informs me that it actually belongs to our mutual friend beth and wasn't just a random gift the laundry gods had mixed into my clothes. The following is a verbatim text dialogue that transpired and I promise alcohol had no influence in the conversation.
Daniel: Do you own a Yanni shirt?
Beth: Dude that my prize possession. Dont let anything happen to it. Im wearing that to my dissertation defense
D: wearin it now And lovin it! Funny story, may be mine now!
B: No effing way buddy. Anne even asked me where it was when she was here. Id give you my grandmothers wedding band but not the yanni shirt
D: Sold!
B: Ps Anne says he looks like me if I transitioned to male. He creepily does look exactly like my cousin.
D: Good you can take a picture of him and put it on a shirt until your grandamas ring gets here
B: R u drunk?
D: Drunk on yanni awesomeness!
B: Listen, I'd really love to give it to u but it was the first thing anne gave me when we started dating. Sentimental value and all
D: I thought the idiot laundry ladies put it with my stuff by accident (fate) and was so excited!
B: Haha nope. I am the idiot in this case.
D: But now Im more let down than that xmas where my parents told me they gave my super nintendo to charity.
Next day
Daniel to Beth: I'm wearing it again. You need to take this thing away from me! I have a sickness...Save me from myself!
Postscript: Beth and I have since worked out a joint custody agreement for the shirt.
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