Monday, November 30, 2009

Damn Those Hyenas

Am I the only one who feels like there are too many Mondays in a week? It was touch and go there for a while last week, but I made it. I finished the essay on time. And my reward was a Bachelor’s degree in political science. I now officially have a degree and I am on my way towards a Master’s. I want to say “yay!” but I know how much work I have left and it doesn’t feel like ”yay!” at all.

At the moment I’m sitting in M’s apartment, trying to do homework, but I'm mostly just listening to his washing machine. As are probably all his neighbors. It spits water and fire and it sounds like he’s stuffed a couple of wild hyenas in there and they’re now battling it out for their life. And they’re probably eating my socks as well. I can’t wait to get my own quiet non-sock eating washing machine over here. I swear, I have two legs and two feet, but somehow one sock still goes missing from every pair. Damn those hyenas.

It’s been a busy weekend. Yesterday M’s parents came over and helped us put together this:

It looks deceptively simple. A couple of doors, a frame and a few shelves inside, how hard can it be? Seems pretty straight forward, right? You’re wrong! It took M and his dad hours of blood, sweat and tears to put that thing together. Luckily, my job was mostly just to make dinner and to give completely useless advice. But by the end of the day our bedroom was pretty much done, and all that’s needed now is some art on the walls. Now that feels like “yay!”

On Saturday M, Muschu and I went to visit my parents. When my Grandpa was still alive Muschu, my brother and I would make a gingerbread house together with him every year. It used to look something like this:

Last year Grandpa was too ill to make the house with us, so Muschu and I took it upon ourselves to help our little brother with the house. Turns out when Muschu and I are let loose on a gingerbread house, not even a 13-year old boy can stop us and we tend to go all Barbie on it. Last year’s gingerbread house, in all it’s pink glory, looked a little bit like this:

This year Grandpa is sadly not with us anymore, so on Saturday Muschu and I once again helped our little brother with this year’s gingerbread house. Turns out Barbie wasn’t enough. This year’s house looks like a My Little Pony chew it up and spit it out all pink and white and fluffy. I’m not sure our very macho teenage brother is all that happy with how it turned out, but he’s the one who ate all the green candies so he can just blame himself.


Monday, November 23, 2009

43 hours, 26 minutes. (Not that I'm counting...)

Very quick update today. This essay is killing me. I probably shouldn’t have sold my brain for some candy bars and toe jam, I’m thinking that was a bad idea after all. I have 16 more pages to go and less than 44 hours to do it. If I don’t make it the world will collapse into itself in proper 2012 style. Or I’ll fail the class, I’m actually not sure which one, I’ve lost perspective completely. One of these days I’m going to realize that procrastination is a bad thing. It’s what Satan uses to drive people crazy.

Clearly that moment hasn’t come yet, as I am obviously procrastinating again. Just shoot me now. And wish me luck.

M – I know you’re reading this, and I’m sad to tell you this, but you’re not allowed to come home from work today, I need peace and quiet. Thanks.


Saturday, November 21, 2009

U R Mr Gay

Happy birthday Muschu! Today my wonderful little sister will be 23 years old, officially making me ancient. Yesterday I baked a cake for her and gave her a kick ass present (telling her she’s adopted was not the present, that was an accident, the Super Mario Galaxy Wii game was the real present) and today I took her to the movies to see New Moon. M left to get his ass kicked for karate camp on Thursday so I was planning on spending the entire weekend working on a 25-page essay that is due on Wednesday. So far I’ve done a whole lot of celebrating Muschu’s birthday, a whole lot of procrastination and whole lot of nothing on the essay.

And my tooth is having its revenge. The dentist apparently left a tiny little sharp edge on the tooth that I didn’t notice while I was there. Now I can’t stop running my tongue over that insanely sharp edge and I keep hurting my tongue. Here’s to hoping I’ll hurt my tongue enough that I can’t eat and I’ll lose a little weight. (I had a LOT of popcorn at the movies today…) The tooth and I are officially tied at 1-1.

I’m really hoping tomorrow will be a better day for essay writing, it’s clearly not happening today. I swear, I’m even thinking about doing the dishes and cleaning the bathroom. But I’m at M’s place and technically I haven’t moved in here yet so even though I’ve contributed to the mess, by my reasoning, I shouldn’t have to clean. Yet. That makes sense, right?

A Johnny Depp movie just started on TV. Looks like I won’t have to do the dishes after all. That’s a relief. *

Monday, November 16, 2009

Ziva vs The Tooth: 1 - 0

I’m back home, finally. I’m not going to eat for an entire week. That is of course a total lie, I’m already craving Chinese food. And with my brand new tooth, I’ll be able to chow down on whatever I want. See, I just got back from my favorite place on earth, the dentist’s, and she fixed my tooth! This is only a temporary fix, but as of right now my tooth is not a big gaping hole in my mouth. I’d call that a success.

I was already entertaining nightmarish thoughts about my future. I was going to end up alone and living with my 32 cats, cause no one could ever love a girl with a tooth from hell. M told me he still loved me and my tooth, but I think he was lying. I was going to end up as that old lady on the street that all the kids are afraid of. But not anymore!

One thing that sucks, though, is that I was already making plans on how to make good money on my teeth falling out of my mouth. When I was little my mom would pretend to be the tooth fairy and whenever I lost one of my baby teeth, she’d buy it from me. I figured with inflation, the new currency and everything else, my teeth would be worth a smallish fortune by now. And if they came out half a tooth a time, I could easily make some good money off of them. I have no idea what mom needs all the teeth for, but I can only assume she’s secretly into voodoo. *

Sunday, November 15, 2009

Friday the 13th: The Curse of the Tooth from Hell

I’m broken. M and I made the 2,5-hour drive to visit his parents on Friday. And now I’m hurting.

In the car on the way here my tooth broke. I was eating some candy (cause everyone knows you can’t drive for almost 3 hours without candy) and as I chewed on the candy I suddenly realized I was chewing on parts of my own tooth. Nothing makes candy taste bad like little pieces of tooth in it. I spit out the pieces of tooth and felt around a little with my tongue. Half of the tooth was gone and I was sitting there with all the insides of the tooth completely exposed. It didn’t feel great.

For some strange reason it feels like whenever we visit M’s parents all we do is eat all day long. Normally this wouldn’t bother me, but with half a tooth in my mouth, eating has proven a little bit tricky. I try to use the fork to stick the food as far into the other cheek as I possibly can, then I tilt my head to the side and try to make gravity help me keep the food away from the tooth from hell. I think M’s parents think I’ve lost my mind.

Add to that the fact that I apparently have a little bit of a relapse on my herniated disc and my back hurts as hell, which makes me walk around like Quasimodo, back hunched, head tilted to the side. I’m pretty sure the family wasn’t happy with the announcement that I’m moving in with M come January.

I have to cut this short now. Dinner is ready. Again. *

Friday, November 13, 2009

"...and it had the consistency of roofing tar!"

Last night M and I visited some great friends of ours who happen to have the most adorable little son. Adam is almost a year old and chaos on two legs. No button, book or spatula is safe when Adam is loose. It’s with great joy and a certain amount of trepidation I’m looking forward to when I’ll be the one dealing with projectile vomit, poo diapers, functioning on 2 hours of sleep a night and playing peek-a-boo all day long. It’s my firm belief that all new parents revert to the level of a 5-year old mentally, to be able to cope with everything a baby brings, (I’m not saying that you, Adam’s wonderful and very adult parents, are at the level of a 5-year old, I’m just presenting a theory here.) I also think it’s fascinating how bodily functions suddenly become so very interesting. This is an actual (completely made up) conversation between two new mothers:

Mommy #1: “The baby’s poop was black for three whole weeks after the birth.”

Mommy #2“ Really? Ours was only black for the first week or so.”

Mommy #1: “Is that so? Fascinating!”

It sure is. *

Tuesday, November 10, 2009


It’s been a while since I visited my spam folder. This is mostly due to the fact that my Russian mail order bride still hasn’t contacted me – a fact that makes me both frustrated and a little depressed. Today, though, when I checked my spam folder for notes from Anna, I noticed a couple of pretty creative, and somewhat disturbing, subject lines.

“With some extra inches you will open some extra possibilities for yourself.”

Now this is so true! I’m only 5’1 and I can barely even reach the wheel when I drive a car. With some extra inches I would be able to do a ton of stuff that I can only dream about now. For instance, I could reach the top shelf in the kitchen without using a ladder. I could see over the wheel when I drive Steve. I could go to the movies and not have to sit on a pillow. My life would be so much improved if I had a few extra inches. I think I’m going to give it a go.

I also saw this subject line:

“Nothing excites women more than a big bulge in your penis.”

Actually, guys, I can guarantee that there is nothing in the entire world that excites women less than a big bulge in your penis. If you have a big bulge in, on, or anywhere around your penis you’re probably better off seeing a doctor. Yuck.

My arm is killing me today. I’ve been vaccinating people for the swine flu all day and ended the day by letting the nurse stick a needle in me. I think it’s kind of disturbing that I let her inject me with trace amounts of the Spanish flu, but if it keeps me from oinking like a pig, I’m all for it.


Friday, November 6, 2009

Recycling FTW

I found this picture on another blog and like the author of that blog, I was completely outraged. I cannot believe the audacity of some people. They actually put a ring around that poor chicken’s leg! That’s animal torture right there. The toddler, on the other hand, seriously? Children have no manners nowadays.

On an unrelated note, I just ate an entire ox at a Greek restaurant. I won’t need to eat again until Christmas. I could probably feed all those little baby penguins in Antarctica all winter long just by regurgitating little pieces of ox.


Thursday, November 5, 2009

It Never Snows in Libya

Thank heavens I went all MacGyver on Steve’s ass last weekend, because today I had to start my day by brushing a thin but very cold layer of snow off my poor car. I love the first snow of the winter. It always makes everything seem so light and clean and beautiful …and cold as hell. Also, the first snow is usually pretty harmless and melts away in a few days. Nothing at all like the snow storms we’ll be having in January. Come January I’ll be planning my imminent relocation to a place that is entirely filled with stuff that isn’t ice and snow. Like Libya.

Until then, I’ll be enjoying the light dusting of pretty white stuff that covers the ground tonight.

This is a picture I took at the cemetery today when I visited Grandpa’s grave.


Tuesday, November 3, 2009

When I Grow Up I'm Going To Marry MacGyver

Happy Halloween! I hope everyone had a great Halloween and got happy and/or drunk and dressed up in scary outfits. M and I went to a party with a 1980’s theme. At first I was a little worried about finding suitable clothes and stuff, I was like 4 years old in the 80’s, but luckily Muschu came shopping with me and we found the ugliest cutest black mini ruffle skirt with gold specks on it. Hot pink tights, huge hair and nasty makeup and I totally looked the part.

We had a great time at the party, but I was a little sad that we didn’t get to dress up in scary costumes and scare the crap out of little kids. The 80’s theme was fun and all, but we were about as threatening as Switzerland. My friend Zelma looked gorgeous, though. She should definitely dress up in her 80’s wear more often.

But I have to tell you, the best part of the weekend wasn’t the Halloween thing. It was the fact that I got dad to screw on Steve’s new license plate! Steve looks great now, plates in all the right places. Almost like new (if it were 1995). And then M and I channeled MacGyver. No, we didn’t defuse a bomb with shoe string, a piece of bubble gum and a paper clip. We got down and dirty in true MacGyver fashion and changed the tires from my pretty summer tires to badass studded winter tires, using only a jack lift, a wrench and a screwdriver. The screwdriver wasn’t entirely necessary, but we figured more tools would make us more efficient. And MacGyver would definitely have used the screwdriver. Or a rusty nail. I’m not sure if it made us more efficient or not, but we did manage to change the tires. Steve and I are officially ready for winter. And tomorrow M will start growing the mullet. MacGyver rules. *