The Fury. The Storm. The Spaniards. They are here. My roommate has 4 relatives visiting from Barcelona, and kids, it's a trip. I've met her parents before, but not her aunt and her cousin. Good people, all in all, but there's a language barrier. I know a fair amount of Spanish (well, enough to not feel retarded, anyway), and in total they know a bit of English but it's just phrases and stuff. Sooooo, yeah... [and yeah, I split that damn infinitive, so bring it, grammar police]
Day 1: The arrival. I know they are planning on getting in very late, but I'm up until 1 or so anyway. I finally decide to go to bed, knowing full well that just as I do so, they'll walk in. Hello, and, goodnight.
Day 2: Let's go shopping. Picture it, Sicily, 1937... wait... no... enough. They have generously offered to buy us patio furniture and a grill. Sweet! So we go to Lowes, where I had already picked out what I wanted. Loaded it up, paid for it... couldn't fit it in the car. Bollocks! Really, it's tough to fit a table and 4 chairs in a small sedan. I was tempted, and tried to tie everything to the roof of my car with twine, but at the last moment decided that it could only end badly for me, so we left the stuff at Lowes. I'd return the following day to get it. It looks pretty decent.
Day 3: "How do you say 'Texas Hold'em' in Spanish?" I still don't know. But it was fun to try and explain it with gestures and grunts and made-up words. The flop = El Flop. The Turn = La Vuelta. The River = El Rio. We didn't actually play with money, and technically I won, but it was because it was so damn late and we all just wanted to finally get to sleep. But not before I tried taking all the play money.
Day 4: My contribution to Spanish Culture. I got home from work, and went for a jog, and then decided it would be a good idea to assemble the grill. Thankfully, "the storm" was out sightseeing and I had a little bit of time to read the instructions (that were only in English), and get started. I had it halfway put together when everyone walked in and began 'helping'. I have a hard enough time at work when everyone is supposed to be able to speak English, but this was just insane. No one teaches you any of the vocabulary words necessary to put together anything while you're in high school. I learned shirt, cat, table, and to run. I did not learn, wrench, screw, nut, bolt, warming rack, or 'ouch that fucking hurt!'. Luckily, the word "Fuck" transcends all cultures. It's like math.
Eventually, we manage to finish assembling the grill in the dining room. And then? And then, it wont fit out the back door! So we have to partially disassemble it and reassemble the damn thing outside. Can we eat yet? Kinda. Fire it up. I purchased the fancy charcoal that isn't briquettes, but is charred wood and it got really hot really fast. And then it died. So I had half cooked chicken and sausages. Sucks. Thank god for microwaves. I re-fired the grill, and got it supa-dupa hot, and then we were in real business. I guess even grills have learning curves. Want to see the grill in action?
Anyhoo, so we're joking around and eating and having beer and wine and meat-on-a-stick, like you do. I keep hearing a lot of "el numero uno, or el numero dos" comments about where people went and finally my curiousness takes over.
"What's all this numbero dos shit they keep talking about?"
"Oh, well, remember when you told me about when you go to the bathroom and what is a Number 1 and a Number 2? I told them that, and they like it, so they think my father went to have a number 2 and that's why it's taking him so long."
"No, they like it!"
I laughed so hard I almost fell off the deck.
Many times while wandering the streets and subways of New York City, I overhear really odd things that I sometimes feel that other people might find amusing. Thankfully, there is already a website for that. overheardinnewyork.com. I offer you a sample:
Fat Eating Fat: Irony or Hate Crime?
Fat lady #1: Excuse me, could you move over?
Thin woman: Well, I can't move over anymore.
Fat lady #1: Excuse me, could you move over?
Fat lady #2: There is no way you're going to fit in that space.
Fat lady #1: If you moved over I could. I'm not fat like you.
Fat lady #2: Not only are you fat, but you're crazy. You think I'm fat? Get away before I eat you.
So, yeah, MJ is not guilty. Umkay, fine. But those supporters of his outside the courthouse are crazy, with a capitol RAZY! Check it.
[link borrowed from many other blogs]
Usually after work, several of us from the lab head to John Harvards for a drink and dinner and to bitch about... well life in general. Well, this Friday we went to someone's house for a backyard BBQ. It was a really, really nice time. I mean, when was the last time that you got drunk and climbed a tree? And in sandals as well!
In other, lamer news, my garden is growing. I have Okra! Photos to come when I don't need a microscope to capture them on digital film... not that I have my new digital camera yet. Stupid Dell.com has it backordered until the end of the month. At least it was a good deal, but possibly could evaporate if it's not in stock.
| You scored as Materialist. Materialism stresses the essence of fundamental particles. Everything that exists is purely physical matter and there is no special force that holds life together. You believe that anything can be explained by breaking it up into its pieces. i.e. the big picture can be understood by its smaller elements.|
What is Your World View? (updated)
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Don't you hate it when shit happens? I do. Today, shit happened to me. Shit in the form of a small accident on the wonderfully overcrowded parkways of the great state of New York. I sure was glad I was following at a reasonably absurd distance of 4 car lengths at 45 MPH when I had to slow down due to traffic. Then some genius fucktard decides he'd like the electrons of his car to occupy the same space that MY car's electrons were currently occupying. Without a signularity, they repelled each other with great force, but not without disrupting the fiberglass makeup of my bumper.
Yes, I'm fine. Yes, it could have been much worse. Yes, it was probably inevitable with the way people drive around here. Yes, he has insurance. Yes, I will be getting it fixed. First estimate is at 1 PM today. My car is only a year old (well, to me anyway) and this happens. Ironically, the dealer who sold it to me actually called me up last night to check on how everything is going with it up until now. CURSES! BALLS! GRRRRAAAAAAAWWWWWW! Great, now my throat hurts. Can I get insurance money for throat pain due to screaming about an accident?
Update: I got an estimate. It's not that bad, they can fix the damage without replacing the bumper for under 5 bills, so I'm fairly sure the guy will just pay me off and I wont have to deal with any insurance companies. Fingers crossed, kids.
This one goes out to my homey B.C. who wasn't feeling very well this past week. Feel better soon, and stay out of that E.R.