I will write more later but I had to put this picture up quickly (aka before the Net Nazi comes in and stops my usage). I thought a pirate onezie for a criminal island would work well.
Sunday, February 14, 2010
Happy Valentine's Day
I will write more later but I had to put this picture up quickly (aka before the Net Nazi comes in and stops my usage). I thought a pirate onezie for a criminal island would work well.
The Net Has Limits
Day 7 brought a lot of accomplishments to the Angus-Davila household. For starters we managed to escape the house for a lunch with our friend Sussannah at Hugos in Manly Wharf. Getting out of the house is a constant challenge. Between remembering and planning for every possible situation (what if it rains, do we have the pacifier, what if it gets cold, who has the toy?) and then physically getting all of the supplies needed out of the house one gets tired. We managed to not only have a great lunch but we also managed to do a great walk along the beach. We also booked appointments, went grocery shopping, and had a fake out when we thought we had found our missing wallet.
Day 8 (Friday)
Taking care of the headliner of the Princeton class of 2032 has been a blast and we got another day of accomplishments. Went for her check up (she is officially one month old now) and we were told that she is growing like the national deficit - quiet excellent. My sister decided that I need to have a boys’ night out with some of her friends. Now it may come as a shock to most people but I honestly would prefer to stay at home rather than go out. I know that is throwing my socialite status into question but I really love just staying at home with a nice plate full of slice and bake cookies rotting my mind with TV. And yet, I go out - a lot. I do it because I know that it is something that I may not like but that is good for me in the long run. Like the gym, only my brain and my liver get a work out. My missing wallet would have a work out too except you know it is missing. I am thinking it is somewhere off the coast of Capri right now ordering drinks and trying to get to third base with the money from the Geico commercials.
Naturally, going out isn’t always fun for me but it is less fun when the evening has to be sponsored by my sister because I don’t have a wallet. Nothing says manhood than groveling for money. I also had to borrow a pair of shoes because none of my shoes were fancy enough to get into the bars here. Apparently, they do not appreciate “rocking kicks” even if I am from out of town. The rain started pouring when I got into the cab and that is when I knew this night was going to blow more chunks than the sorority girl on the plane.
I like being wrong. I actually had a great time just sitting around Jerri’s apartment talking about different things and waiting out the hurricane sized rain storm that was having its’ way with Sydney when my sister’s fight buddy showed up. Every group has a version of this guy. The guy that is just argumentative for the sake of being argumentative. Well, in this case the bloke’s name is Joe. He took to calling me Iris for the night because I look and sounded like my sister to his drunken eyes and ears. I told him that was fine but that I was going to have to call him Dad for the rest of the night because the only person that calls me by my sister’s name is my father. We waited out the rain and had some pizza before finally departing into the bat and cloud filled sky. The boys walked me through a dark alley which I could have sworn I had seen on the Vampire Diaries but we made it through ok. Or did we? Either way you may want to be careful the next time you invite me into your house.
We did the bar hop going from one place filled with underage teens that were over dressed to another place with under aged teens that were over dressed. We finally settled down for the night at Mandy’s newly flooded apartment. The abundance of rain over the last few days has made the ground unable to soak up anything except for my pride.
Day 8 started off lovely with some quick toast and a cab ride home. With Troy being home I like being in the shadows so that three of them can have as much family time together as possible. So I just lounged around the house searching for the lost wallet and finishing my book of the month “The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-Time”. So far the book resolution has been happening. My sister and I then went for a treat – Thai massages but the funny being that they actually had a sign up that said no happy endings. I was thinking of asking them what about content or even bad endings but I figured I shouldn’t push my luck. We arrived home only to find that the unimaginable had happened – I broke the internet.
Apparently here in Australia things are set up with an allotment of how many Gigs you can download. My TV addiction coupled with my sister’s emailing of pictures, my brother-in-laws work, and our house guest Matty’s work we have exceeded the usage. Who knew that was possible? So don't fret too much if you don't see me online anytime soon.
Day 8 (Friday)
Taking care of the headliner of the Princeton class of 2032 has been a blast and we got another day of accomplishments. Went for her check up (she is officially one month old now) and we were told that she is growing like the national deficit - quiet excellent. My sister decided that I need to have a boys’ night out with some of her friends. Now it may come as a shock to most people but I honestly would prefer to stay at home rather than go out. I know that is throwing my socialite status into question but I really love just staying at home with a nice plate full of slice and bake cookies rotting my mind with TV. And yet, I go out - a lot. I do it because I know that it is something that I may not like but that is good for me in the long run. Like the gym, only my brain and my liver get a work out. My missing wallet would have a work out too except you know it is missing. I am thinking it is somewhere off the coast of Capri right now ordering drinks and trying to get to third base with the money from the Geico commercials.
Naturally, going out isn’t always fun for me but it is less fun when the evening has to be sponsored by my sister because I don’t have a wallet. Nothing says manhood than groveling for money. I also had to borrow a pair of shoes because none of my shoes were fancy enough to get into the bars here. Apparently, they do not appreciate “rocking kicks” even if I am from out of town. The rain started pouring when I got into the cab and that is when I knew this night was going to blow more chunks than the sorority girl on the plane.
I like being wrong. I actually had a great time just sitting around Jerri’s apartment talking about different things and waiting out the hurricane sized rain storm that was having its’ way with Sydney when my sister’s fight buddy showed up. Every group has a version of this guy. The guy that is just argumentative for the sake of being argumentative. Well, in this case the bloke’s name is Joe. He took to calling me Iris for the night because I look and sounded like my sister to his drunken eyes and ears. I told him that was fine but that I was going to have to call him Dad for the rest of the night because the only person that calls me by my sister’s name is my father. We waited out the rain and had some pizza before finally departing into the bat and cloud filled sky. The boys walked me through a dark alley which I could have sworn I had seen on the Vampire Diaries but we made it through ok. Or did we? Either way you may want to be careful the next time you invite me into your house.
We did the bar hop going from one place filled with underage teens that were over dressed to another place with under aged teens that were over dressed. We finally settled down for the night at Mandy’s newly flooded apartment. The abundance of rain over the last few days has made the ground unable to soak up anything except for my pride.
Day 8 started off lovely with some quick toast and a cab ride home. With Troy being home I like being in the shadows so that three of them can have as much family time together as possible. So I just lounged around the house searching for the lost wallet and finishing my book of the month “The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-Time”. So far the book resolution has been happening. My sister and I then went for a treat – Thai massages but the funny being that they actually had a sign up that said no happy endings. I was thinking of asking them what about content or even bad endings but I figured I shouldn’t push my luck. We arrived home only to find that the unimaginable had happened – I broke the internet.
Apparently here in Australia things are set up with an allotment of how many Gigs you can download. My TV addiction coupled with my sister’s emailing of pictures, my brother-in-laws work, and our house guest Matty’s work we have exceeded the usage. Who knew that was possible? So don't fret too much if you don't see me online anytime soon.
Wednesday, February 10, 2010
Days 4-6: Celebrate the small stuff.
Celebrate the small moments. My sister is a constant over achiever in life. She will refute this statement which is fine and expected. It has never been enough to just do something she has to do it well or as the best and quiet frankly it can be annoying. I on the other hand have developed more of a balance toward celebrating small achievements and going toward larger goals. This may however explain why she is $uccessful working in finance in Australia with a gorgeous husband and baby while, I toil at a successful career in advertising with a gorgeous bar and full DVR.
Although the original intent of this was to document every day with my life lessons I have been set a drift with my sister into desperate housewifedom. I personally am enjoying the journey. Day 4 taught me to celebrate the small achievements in life which here are smaller than even I expected. For example I know it is going to be a good day if we can get the nugget down for her 9 AM nap without the pacifier and my sister and I have taken a shower, brushed our teeth, and had coffee. Seriously, Mormon mommies how do you do it without coffee?
My sister has this book that has become our guide to surviving the baby. We have pretty much developed a schedule that spares me from the first part of the day (aka the 5 AM feeding). My day begins with 7:30 AM. I move all of our supplies for the day to the main room while mommy and baby sleep. Mommy has referred to herself as a cow with the countless feedings. Baby (whom I now refer to as Chupacabra)gets fed and then we do spin class. This is when I play with her feet in a circular motion to help build them up. We peddle for one song and then we move to fist pumps. She does not like either of these things which leads me to believe her gym career will mirror mine more than her parents. Then it is nap time for her gym time for Mommy and dishes para Tio. The rest of the day is a blur until 4PM when we have our outing. This could be a walk on the beach or just going to the grocery store. Either way it is exciting. This is when I finally talk to to my sister which is odd considering we spend all day together but we never speak about anything of substance until 4.
Bullet points for everything else:
My wallet is missing and has been for 3 days. It was last used in the living room to feed my comic book addiction. My Sister thinks it is Heavenly Father's way of telling me to quit.
I miss Shirt Tales - You know the 80's cartoon show with the animals that had tee shirts that changed with their moods or thoughts. I wish someone would invent those now considering that I am not as good of a detective as parents need to be.
My sister is Batwoman. She always know what is going on with the baby to a scary degree. I have only been in sync with one other person in my life like that and find it fascinating that my sister can do it with someone that can't talk.
Australia makes me feel bad about myself. Not in a 5th Ave Abercrombie Store way but in a they have droughts and water shortages way and my daily vice is a long hot shower(when I remember).
Poo is my highlight. For some reason when the baby goes poo we get REALLY excited. Like touchdown at the Superbowl happy. So you can imagine our happiness when she pooed so much she overflowed the diaper.
I burned myself trying to heat up a bottle and it was awesome in a way that wasn't.
We all take turns cooking. I, of course, only know how to make omelettes.
Allegedly, it is too soon for the baby to have a personality but THEY ARE WRONG. This baby is a mischievous little bugger. For example, I changed her diaper the other day and it was soaked as I grabbed the new diaper and cleaned her off I left her for a second without closing the diaper so that I could wipe her down. So of course she starts to wee trying to get uncle. BUT I HAVE PRACTICE YOU WOOD NYMPH. She did not get me that time. Today though, after changing a poo diaper I was so happy that I picked her up for a second without a diaper and she decided to desecrate my Superman tee shirt by weeing. You won that round baby. You won that round.
Lastly, I am throwing this up there without any form of editing so you can see how scattered I truly am right now. I know there has been more funny (like my sister drying dirty clothes)but the days just blur. Welcome to the neighborhood.
Monday, February 8, 2010
Day 3: Pick an Aiden
It is time to tell you the truth. Your boyfriend/husband/life partner sucks. There is no easy way for you to accept it so I will just rip off the band aid and let you know it. How have I come to this conclusion? Because, I have watched my brother-in-law with my niece. We are talking about a man that not only works all day but then he comes home and pulls a station domination on this kid. There is no doubt that this baby will be a Daddy’s girl. He comes home goes straight to the baby, gives her a bath and plays with her. Puts her down for her nap makes dinner and then continues on with the late night feed. I thought it was just a novelty act but apparently he has been this way since the baby got home. That my friends is why your (wo)man blows in comparison. He not only handles the crazy of the existing family but manages to nurture the next generation of crazy as well.
The day continued on the best way that it could with an all too brief Skype with the McCain family and a few bits of interaction with FBIM with Ali. I woke up at the usual time and walked the 36 stairs that are between the laundry room and the main living room a few hundred times (more like 40 but whatever). Moved my stuff from the Dungeon and into my parent’s room and watched some TV. There was little baby interaction because seriously Daddy is on his game. Speaking of games, there wasn’t one for me to watch here. You see my entire Super Bowl Sunday was your Saturday night. So I was left to dream of a nice little winning Colt’s headline an extra day longer than most of you.
The biggest development was Iris and I went to the store. As all my readers (the now three of you) know I am as useful in a grocery store as a rat. I don’t know anything nor do I care to know anything. This may be a lack of survival skill or just another sign that I surround myself with women that take care of me. You and my future therapist can be the judge. Either way it was exciting because I got to wander around the store clueless and have a reason to be clueless (it was my first time there) rather than wandering the same Wholefoods that we normally go to without an excuse.
I did manage though to make an excellent egg white omelet with bacon for a late snack for my sister that made her happy. We watched a few episodes of Sex and the City while Daddy bathed the baby and it led to an interesting point: my sister and I hate Big. Now I know that this is controversial and all but Big is an ass. I hate him and to be honest in my mind Sex and the City ends after Carrie goes to Paris with her happy Russian (because the Aiden ship had sailed). Or maybe in Paris Carrie meets someone new and exciting. Anything besides settling for a man that never respected her, never defended her, and never was there for her emotionally or physically. He lied, cheated, and left her throughout the course of their entire relationship and the Happy Ever After of her ending up with him makes me vomit and want to Reenact a SAW movie. Big is the equivalent of Lucy and that damn football.
I have a serious problem with Sex and the City if you can’t tell because, I feel that the show in an attempt to show the strength of women, actually showed the weakness of women and has further more created a culture of women that think that equality means sleeping around with random guys, true love betrays you, and that materialistic possessions should be your focus instead of a solid banking plan. The sad thing is I find the show entertaining because as someone living in New York I understand what they are talking about and how weirdly true-to-life the show is in the NYC scene. Even down to giving guys nicknames because their real names are irrelevant until it becomes serious (that’s why we never learned Big’s name until the end of the show). Or maybe it is that I have chosen one too many Bigs?
I made a snide remark about “What I really hate about this show is that it promotes Bigness. People never choose Aidens they choose Big.” I sat there smug in my pop culturalness because I thought about how I just laid this huge revelation at my sister’s feet. Then she looked down at her hand and said “I chose Aiden”. I hate that witch because once again she is right. So, maybe the lesson I learned on day three had nothing to do with the baby but rather how to get to a baby or that having a baby is meaningless without having an Aiden and sadly there are just aren’t enough of them out there.
*PS Your boyfriend/hubby/partner doesn’t really suck. I just think my brother-in-law is pretty damn cool and learning some excellent Spanish.
The day continued on the best way that it could with an all too brief Skype with the McCain family and a few bits of interaction with FBIM with Ali. I woke up at the usual time and walked the 36 stairs that are between the laundry room and the main living room a few hundred times (more like 40 but whatever). Moved my stuff from the Dungeon and into my parent’s room and watched some TV. There was little baby interaction because seriously Daddy is on his game. Speaking of games, there wasn’t one for me to watch here. You see my entire Super Bowl Sunday was your Saturday night. So I was left to dream of a nice little winning Colt’s headline an extra day longer than most of you.
The biggest development was Iris and I went to the store. As all my readers (the now three of you) know I am as useful in a grocery store as a rat. I don’t know anything nor do I care to know anything. This may be a lack of survival skill or just another sign that I surround myself with women that take care of me. You and my future therapist can be the judge. Either way it was exciting because I got to wander around the store clueless and have a reason to be clueless (it was my first time there) rather than wandering the same Wholefoods that we normally go to without an excuse.
I did manage though to make an excellent egg white omelet with bacon for a late snack for my sister that made her happy. We watched a few episodes of Sex and the City while Daddy bathed the baby and it led to an interesting point: my sister and I hate Big. Now I know that this is controversial and all but Big is an ass. I hate him and to be honest in my mind Sex and the City ends after Carrie goes to Paris with her happy Russian (because the Aiden ship had sailed). Or maybe in Paris Carrie meets someone new and exciting. Anything besides settling for a man that never respected her, never defended her, and never was there for her emotionally or physically. He lied, cheated, and left her throughout the course of their entire relationship and the Happy Ever After of her ending up with him makes me vomit and want to Reenact a SAW movie. Big is the equivalent of Lucy and that damn football.
I have a serious problem with Sex and the City if you can’t tell because, I feel that the show in an attempt to show the strength of women, actually showed the weakness of women and has further more created a culture of women that think that equality means sleeping around with random guys, true love betrays you, and that materialistic possessions should be your focus instead of a solid banking plan. The sad thing is I find the show entertaining because as someone living in New York I understand what they are talking about and how weirdly true-to-life the show is in the NYC scene. Even down to giving guys nicknames because their real names are irrelevant until it becomes serious (that’s why we never learned Big’s name until the end of the show). Or maybe it is that I have chosen one too many Bigs?
I made a snide remark about “What I really hate about this show is that it promotes Bigness. People never choose Aidens they choose Big.” I sat there smug in my pop culturalness because I thought about how I just laid this huge revelation at my sister’s feet. Then she looked down at her hand and said “I chose Aiden”. I hate that witch because once again she is right. So, maybe the lesson I learned on day three had nothing to do with the baby but rather how to get to a baby or that having a baby is meaningless without having an Aiden and sadly there are just aren’t enough of them out there.
*PS Your boyfriend/hubby/partner doesn’t really suck. I just think my brother-in-law is pretty damn cool and learning some excellent Spanish.
Sunday, February 7, 2010
Day Two: Mission Manny
Day Two:
Most people know my family is unusually close. Most people believe it is because of the drinking but my mother likes to think it was due to our Hispanic upbringing. Because of this goodbyes are very long and extremely difficult to make. The new day brought my parents extended vacation to a close while my new journey began: my first time alone with the baby.
After a quick dose of drugs (the nice pharma non Anna Nicole kind) I started my day by sweeping, making an omelet, and washing dishes. The rain didn’t let up at all which meant that my mother and the family were trapped in doors with a digital camera. My mother is a paparazzi in training. In the mid-1980s (also referred to as the dark ages or B.I.) my mother would buy stacks of Polaroid film and regular film by the case (just for fun). Which is probably why Polaroid announced it was having financial problems around the time my mother got a digital camera for Mother’s Day.
My mother taught my sister and I how to drive. This wasn’t because my mother was the best driver (she isn’t) nor was it because she wanted to (she didn’t) or because she was a patient person (she definitely isn’t). My mother taught us to drive because she had no choice but to for her own survival and because my father was out of the country for work. So my parents and our insurance company was thrilled when my sister stopped driving to go to college. When she left the states to live in Europe she only had to drive on rare occasions and even then it was just driving on the wrong side of the road. I only bring this up because my sister now has to drive on the wrong side of the road and in the wrong seat. This makes my parents, myself, and any sane driver in Australia nervous. The rain was coming down in sheets and so the decision was made to leave me behind at home with the baby while my brother-in-law and sister drove to the airport.
One would think that leaving a 32 year old single guy that has (at this point) in time not touched your child due to his quarantine would freak out any new first time parents. Ironically, it was my parents that objected to this plan that was suggested by my sister and my brother-in-law. Thankfully, I have been babysitting since I was 10 and that included a newborn a fact that my sister has painfully made me aware of. My mother was trying to walk me through every possible scenario that could happen including how to change a diaper while my sister just calmly wrote down a list of numbers for me to call in case of emergencies.
That is when I finally got to hold my niece for the first time.
It isn’t that I am a first time uncle (I got three other notches on my belt), or that I am inherently bad with children (except for some reason I only like McCains) but there is something different with this child. It isn’t to down play my connection to the other kids especially since my McCain kids are the closest experience to my own children that I am planning on ever having. I think the difference with this particular child is I have been there the whole time with this particular child from concept to implementation. I was there when my sister found out. I was talking with my sister throughout the journey of pregnancy and the delivery and to now to actually hold this baby in my hands and touch her skin, smell her hair, and gaze into her beautiful blue eyes made me misty. Eliana of course takes after me because her reaction to this profound moment was to spit up on my Bumblebee tee shirt.
After that, she got a little fussy so I decided to do a trick that use to work on Kelly when she was younger and fussy: bouncing while singing Disney songs. El liked the bouncing but was not a Disney fan. Between the blue eyes and lack of Disney gene I am not so convinced this is the right kid and some baby swap may have happened. So I switched gears and went with Da’ Train a Patrick favorite. Yes, Da’ Train song as in “Come on ride that train and ride it. Come on ride dat train and ride it”. This also did not work. Which kind of makes me happy in a sick way because now when I think of “When You Wish Upon a Star” and “Da Train” will always be exclusively reserved for them. What did work for El was the Rolling Stones “You Can’t Always Get What You Want” and “Part of Your World” which is a good enough DNA test for me.
We made it through our first three hour session alone and now the parents have returned. Mission Manny Accomplished.
Most people know my family is unusually close. Most people believe it is because of the drinking but my mother likes to think it was due to our Hispanic upbringing. Because of this goodbyes are very long and extremely difficult to make. The new day brought my parents extended vacation to a close while my new journey began: my first time alone with the baby.
After a quick dose of drugs (the nice pharma non Anna Nicole kind) I started my day by sweeping, making an omelet, and washing dishes. The rain didn’t let up at all which meant that my mother and the family were trapped in doors with a digital camera. My mother is a paparazzi in training. In the mid-1980s (also referred to as the dark ages or B.I.) my mother would buy stacks of Polaroid film and regular film by the case (just for fun). Which is probably why Polaroid announced it was having financial problems around the time my mother got a digital camera for Mother’s Day.
My mother taught my sister and I how to drive. This wasn’t because my mother was the best driver (she isn’t) nor was it because she wanted to (she didn’t) or because she was a patient person (she definitely isn’t). My mother taught us to drive because she had no choice but to for her own survival and because my father was out of the country for work. So my parents and our insurance company was thrilled when my sister stopped driving to go to college. When she left the states to live in Europe she only had to drive on rare occasions and even then it was just driving on the wrong side of the road. I only bring this up because my sister now has to drive on the wrong side of the road and in the wrong seat. This makes my parents, myself, and any sane driver in Australia nervous. The rain was coming down in sheets and so the decision was made to leave me behind at home with the baby while my brother-in-law and sister drove to the airport.
One would think that leaving a 32 year old single guy that has (at this point) in time not touched your child due to his quarantine would freak out any new first time parents. Ironically, it was my parents that objected to this plan that was suggested by my sister and my brother-in-law. Thankfully, I have been babysitting since I was 10 and that included a newborn a fact that my sister has painfully made me aware of. My mother was trying to walk me through every possible scenario that could happen including how to change a diaper while my sister just calmly wrote down a list of numbers for me to call in case of emergencies.
That is when I finally got to hold my niece for the first time.
It isn’t that I am a first time uncle (I got three other notches on my belt), or that I am inherently bad with children (except for some reason I only like McCains) but there is something different with this child. It isn’t to down play my connection to the other kids especially since my McCain kids are the closest experience to my own children that I am planning on ever having. I think the difference with this particular child is I have been there the whole time with this particular child from concept to implementation. I was there when my sister found out. I was talking with my sister throughout the journey of pregnancy and the delivery and to now to actually hold this baby in my hands and touch her skin, smell her hair, and gaze into her beautiful blue eyes made me misty. Eliana of course takes after me because her reaction to this profound moment was to spit up on my Bumblebee tee shirt.
After that, she got a little fussy so I decided to do a trick that use to work on Kelly when she was younger and fussy: bouncing while singing Disney songs. El liked the bouncing but was not a Disney fan. Between the blue eyes and lack of Disney gene I am not so convinced this is the right kid and some baby swap may have happened. So I switched gears and went with Da’ Train a Patrick favorite. Yes, Da’ Train song as in “Come on ride that train and ride it. Come on ride dat train and ride it”. This also did not work. Which kind of makes me happy in a sick way because now when I think of “When You Wish Upon a Star” and “Da Train” will always be exclusively reserved for them. What did work for El was the Rolling Stones “You Can’t Always Get What You Want” and “Part of Your World” which is a good enough DNA test for me.
We made it through our first three hour session alone and now the parents have returned. Mission Manny Accomplished.
Saturday, February 6, 2010
Oz: Day One
I always get apprehensive before taking a major trip for extended periods of time mainly because I don’t focus on the fun I am about to have but more on the fun I am leaving behind. This trip is no exception. For the faithful two of you that read this (Hi Ali and Neda) you gals know that I have a fun filled NYC life and that I am basically a bird-in-the-hand type of guy. On default, I pretty much treat all of my food choices, TV selections, clothing stores, and comic books to this rule. Why go somewhere else when I already know I have a good thing. This is why I make myself try new things and have a six episode rule on shows/comics and always differ all restaurant choices to other people. So as I boarded my flight with a slight sore throat I thought about how much fun I would be having and all of the Elle Woods thoughts I could have.
It didn’t work.
You see my slight sore throat ended up becoming the worst sore throat known to mankind. Thankfully, I was in a row by myself and I could stretch out over four seats as I went from JFK to LAX. During the flight though I kept repeating a line to myself “Planes want to stay in the air”. I have this habit of watching LOST 24 hours before boarding flights to/from Australia that are filled with turbulence and me wondering if I am going to make it on Goodwin’s list since I tend to sit in the back of the plane. This plane flight was no different. I managed to land but couldn’t swallow (insert joke). However, the terminal at LAX I was in only had cherry flavored Halls. I hate Halls more than Lindsey hates sobriety but I still manned up and ate the whole package which may have been an overdose but let’s just call that bygones. I tried to eat but nothing was making me feel better. I returned to my little row of heaven waiting for my 14 hour flight in which I was going to watch all 13 episodes of Glee back-to-back when FML the sorority sisters came (insert bonus joke).
You see my Fortress of Solitude was invaded by two girls that were SUPER friendly in that way that bitchy over privileged sorority girls can be. The first one (lets call her A) gets on the flight and commandeers THREE of the four seats in our row. When I asked her as politely as I could as to why she felt the need to take all three seats she said “Well, it’s like me and my friend and so that gives us majority right? Me likey”. Moving past the fact that anyone that says me likey that is over the age of 8 deserves to be smacked and the fact being that I would have conceited the seat to them because majority does rule the sheer act of asking or just saying ”Hi, I’m Bambi. My friend Muffy and I are going to be in this row with you. Would you mind if we shared the third seat or under the seat storage space?” That would have been great.
Then the friend shows up (we shall call her B). The friend was delayed because her bag, which was clearly over the size capacity of being a carry on, was being “harassed” over the size of the bag. She even got into it with Vikki (our flight attendant who obviously did matter to me because I learned her name) while ON the plane because the bag “like totally fits”. I will give it to B. The bag fit – when you took everyone else’s stuff out of the overhead compartment and stored the bag sideways. The girl began reenacting her “triumph” to her friend when finally I had had enough and looked at her and said “Do you remember Aaliyah? The pop star that died in a plane crash that was caused because the plane was too heavy due to BAGGAGE?” Needless to say the girls thought I was rude.
Right after take off I decided drugs were necessary, this may have been caused by my fever but nevertheless I took the pills and went to bed. My friend Vikki woke me up for my dinner. I thought about it for a few moments and decided my seat mates and I had gotten off on the wrong foot. After all it was past midnight and we were all tired. On these long flights, if you don’t eat when they serve you food, you don’t eat. I am sure someone will refute that but as someone that has flown the cheap seats on the QF108 several times I will let you know this is no joke. I woke up A&B and let them know why I woke them up because they seriously looked like they were going to kill me. When they served us food A gets into a major tizzy that sets me off. You see A has a gluten allergy and had requested a special meal but because she had missed her original flight the meal wasn’t transferred!
There are many things that are wrong with that statement. 1. The fact that A didn’t check to see if her meal had transferred which I would have done (especially after living with the Gluten free poster child – two shout outs in one blog Ali). 2. That she was throwing a tizzy at the flight attendants that clearly had nothing to do with it. 3. That I could have avoided this entire scene had I not woken them up. 4. THEY WEREN’T SUPPOSED TO BE ON MY FLIGHT. Now this last thing could go one of two ways: 1. plane crash with sobbing “they weren’t supposed to be on that flight” or 2. I could have had my 4 seat bed if these girls knew how to tell time. Sick to think, but my mind works in that way especially after watching Lost 24hrs before boarding a plane to Australia.
My inner bitch laughed hysterically at this scene and I caught a glimpse of the older travelers that were seriously one martini away from joining the mile high club. I avoided contact with Vikki as she calmly explained the situation again when I noticed the other two sorority sisters that were laughing at this too. Out of somewhere the thought came to me to give the girl my salad. My parents later told me that was my conscience. I can’t remember if I coughed on it first before I handed it over though. I kid. Kinda.
Anyway, two more Tylenol PMS and I was out like Brian Dunkleman. I woke up long enough to get Orlando home sick because I finally watched Julie & Julia and all I could think of was I MUST CALL JOAN! When the plane finally landed one of the second set of sorority girls puked and A&B were busy putting on their makeup. Because that is EXACTLY when I want an eyeliner pencil close to my eye. The older couple changed numbers and I felt slightly dirty. I got through customs with only this fun exchange:
Guard: “Sir- What’s in your bag?”
Dashingly Attractive and Witty Leading Man: “Just some clothes and a stuffed Kangaroo”
Guard: “A stuffed Kangaroo? You brought a stuffed Kangaroo to Australia?”
DA&WLM:”Yes.”
Guard: “Why on Earth would you be carrying a stuffed Kangaroo to Australia?”
DA&WLM:”Because my American sister just had a baby and so it seemed appropriate to bring my niece an American Kangaroo.”
Guard: Alrighty then. Off you go.”
It took my father a whole .5 seconds to realize I was sick and my sister less than that to realize what that meant. I was taken to their new swank pad and left in the dungeon (their name for the room, not mine) to sleep and so I did. So far, Day one in Oz was spent drug fueled and in bed but not in a 70s porno way. What further adventures await me?
It didn’t work.
You see my slight sore throat ended up becoming the worst sore throat known to mankind. Thankfully, I was in a row by myself and I could stretch out over four seats as I went from JFK to LAX. During the flight though I kept repeating a line to myself “Planes want to stay in the air”. I have this habit of watching LOST 24 hours before boarding flights to/from Australia that are filled with turbulence and me wondering if I am going to make it on Goodwin’s list since I tend to sit in the back of the plane. This plane flight was no different. I managed to land but couldn’t swallow (insert joke). However, the terminal at LAX I was in only had cherry flavored Halls. I hate Halls more than Lindsey hates sobriety but I still manned up and ate the whole package which may have been an overdose but let’s just call that bygones. I tried to eat but nothing was making me feel better. I returned to my little row of heaven waiting for my 14 hour flight in which I was going to watch all 13 episodes of Glee back-to-back when FML the sorority sisters came (insert bonus joke).
You see my Fortress of Solitude was invaded by two girls that were SUPER friendly in that way that bitchy over privileged sorority girls can be. The first one (lets call her A) gets on the flight and commandeers THREE of the four seats in our row. When I asked her as politely as I could as to why she felt the need to take all three seats she said “Well, it’s like me and my friend and so that gives us majority right? Me likey”. Moving past the fact that anyone that says me likey that is over the age of 8 deserves to be smacked and the fact being that I would have conceited the seat to them because majority does rule the sheer act of asking or just saying ”Hi, I’m Bambi. My friend Muffy and I are going to be in this row with you. Would you mind if we shared the third seat or under the seat storage space?” That would have been great.
Then the friend shows up (we shall call her B). The friend was delayed because her bag, which was clearly over the size capacity of being a carry on, was being “harassed” over the size of the bag. She even got into it with Vikki (our flight attendant who obviously did matter to me because I learned her name) while ON the plane because the bag “like totally fits”. I will give it to B. The bag fit – when you took everyone else’s stuff out of the overhead compartment and stored the bag sideways. The girl began reenacting her “triumph” to her friend when finally I had had enough and looked at her and said “Do you remember Aaliyah? The pop star that died in a plane crash that was caused because the plane was too heavy due to BAGGAGE?” Needless to say the girls thought I was rude.
Right after take off I decided drugs were necessary, this may have been caused by my fever but nevertheless I took the pills and went to bed. My friend Vikki woke me up for my dinner. I thought about it for a few moments and decided my seat mates and I had gotten off on the wrong foot. After all it was past midnight and we were all tired. On these long flights, if you don’t eat when they serve you food, you don’t eat. I am sure someone will refute that but as someone that has flown the cheap seats on the QF108 several times I will let you know this is no joke. I woke up A&B and let them know why I woke them up because they seriously looked like they were going to kill me. When they served us food A gets into a major tizzy that sets me off. You see A has a gluten allergy and had requested a special meal but because she had missed her original flight the meal wasn’t transferred!
There are many things that are wrong with that statement. 1. The fact that A didn’t check to see if her meal had transferred which I would have done (especially after living with the Gluten free poster child – two shout outs in one blog Ali). 2. That she was throwing a tizzy at the flight attendants that clearly had nothing to do with it. 3. That I could have avoided this entire scene had I not woken them up. 4. THEY WEREN’T SUPPOSED TO BE ON MY FLIGHT. Now this last thing could go one of two ways: 1. plane crash with sobbing “they weren’t supposed to be on that flight” or 2. I could have had my 4 seat bed if these girls knew how to tell time. Sick to think, but my mind works in that way especially after watching Lost 24hrs before boarding a plane to Australia.
My inner bitch laughed hysterically at this scene and I caught a glimpse of the older travelers that were seriously one martini away from joining the mile high club. I avoided contact with Vikki as she calmly explained the situation again when I noticed the other two sorority sisters that were laughing at this too. Out of somewhere the thought came to me to give the girl my salad. My parents later told me that was my conscience. I can’t remember if I coughed on it first before I handed it over though. I kid. Kinda.
Anyway, two more Tylenol PMS and I was out like Brian Dunkleman. I woke up long enough to get Orlando home sick because I finally watched Julie & Julia and all I could think of was I MUST CALL JOAN! When the plane finally landed one of the second set of sorority girls puked and A&B were busy putting on their makeup. Because that is EXACTLY when I want an eyeliner pencil close to my eye. The older couple changed numbers and I felt slightly dirty. I got through customs with only this fun exchange:
Guard: “Sir- What’s in your bag?”
Dashingly Attractive and Witty Leading Man: “Just some clothes and a stuffed Kangaroo”
Guard: “A stuffed Kangaroo? You brought a stuffed Kangaroo to Australia?”
DA&WLM:”Yes.”
Guard: “Why on Earth would you be carrying a stuffed Kangaroo to Australia?”
DA&WLM:”Because my American sister just had a baby and so it seemed appropriate to bring my niece an American Kangaroo.”
Guard: Alrighty then. Off you go.”
It took my father a whole .5 seconds to realize I was sick and my sister less than that to realize what that meant. I was taken to their new swank pad and left in the dungeon (their name for the room, not mine) to sleep and so I did. So far, Day one in Oz was spent drug fueled and in bed but not in a 70s porno way. What further adventures await me?
A Love Letter To Glee
Dear Glee:
Everyone knows I love you in a way only a cheesy Michael Bolton song can describe but, as we enter the back nine we need to dtr. There are some things that I have forgiven because I was blinded by love and distracted by either Lea’s voice or Matthew Morrison’s rapping ability that need to be addressed.
First, let me explain that I was in a choir with people that make me sound meek. We are talking voices so loud that there were times windows would shake. Even then you could tell it was only X number of people. Now I understand you want to sell records and downloads (we will address that shortly) and that you want that to sound as amazing as possible. I get that but for the integrity of the show if I have three Cheerios singing I want it to sound like three Cheerios singing. If there are 12 kids (even if one of them is Lea) I want it to sound like 12 kids. I also want them to sound like them meaning ditch the studio singers. Make this happen. And since when has auto tune been allowed in show choir? Take the kids singing Nelly in the choir room in Throwdown. That worked perfectly and felt normal (even though it wasn’t a normal moment).
Point 2: How the hell can those kids sight read so freaking well? I mean besides Rachel, Puck, Artie, and Finn none of the other kids have been shown to have any reason to know how to read music. Even then the guys don’t have to read music they could play by ear (drums, bass, and guitar) and even a great singer like Mercedes may not know how to read sheet music she just has to make it sound like someone else. I enjoy the moments were the kids actually struggle like Tina did with Tonight. This comes into play at Sectionals. I am all for “hey we need to change the set list” but here’s the thing – They had practiced and choreographed DOZENS of numbers instead of using one of those numbers why did they have to come up with an all new number. The least they could have done to explain it is to say “well, we need a new number because we don’t know what other songs of ours the deaf kids are going to sing since we stormed out in the middle of their set”.
Now to my biggest existing pet peeve. I get you people are greedy bastards but seriously get it together with the complete my album feature on iTunes. Or offer up different versions – for example I would love to have the deaf choir version of Imagine mixed AND the New Directions version. Give me a reason to buy the weekly downloads because after getting screwed hard on the first CD I definitely be waiting now to get the new music.
Now to the story point that I still can’t get over after watching every episode at least 12 times – Knocked up Quinn is going to give her baby to Mr. Shu. I get it we need the drama. Where was the fall out? Not once did we have Shu confront Quinn or even mention it to her or anyone. After everything that Will has done for her, he wouldn’t even mention it? Not even directing some of that well deserved rage at the 2.0 version of his wife? Come on? He is all happy go lucky and smiley with her even though he knew that she was lying to him and knew his wife wasn’t pregnant? Who is that conniving at 15? Also, what happened to Quinn after the big reveal? Did she stay with Finn or did she move somewhere else? Emma surely would have interfered had she known anything about it either by giving Quinn the lecture she needs or by finding her a home. Where is my Saved By The Bell after school special moment? All I get is the scene of Quinn and Rachel? “We cool bro?” NO Glee, we ain’t cool.
Now, I know that I shouldn’t judge before watching but it makes me nervous that they are adding all of these new kids. Don’t get me wrong – I love me some Jonathan Groff but what I like most is that he will be at a rival school. The casting notices for a male Mercedes, Kurt’s bf, etc. make me nervous. I want to spend more time with the “friends” we have that we don’t know about like Santana, Brittany, Mike and Matt (whom I still have to IMDB because I only know them as Shaft and other Asian). Not to mention all of this “We didn’t know Puck/Rachel was going to catch on” business? Gee, what are the odds that the annoying young ingénue paired with the bad boy who is really “misunderstood” would take off leaving the guy next door heart broken and left to be the next assistant with Mr. Belding?
Overall, I know I should be happy. You have given me hours of entertainment and a soundtrack that my entire building now knows by heart. I just don’t want you to take a Nip/Tuck move to LA on me. I just wanted to get this off of my chest the way Tyra wanted her weave off. Don’t hate me.
Everyone knows I love you in a way only a cheesy Michael Bolton song can describe but, as we enter the back nine we need to dtr. There are some things that I have forgiven because I was blinded by love and distracted by either Lea’s voice or Matthew Morrison’s rapping ability that need to be addressed.
First, let me explain that I was in a choir with people that make me sound meek. We are talking voices so loud that there were times windows would shake. Even then you could tell it was only X number of people. Now I understand you want to sell records and downloads (we will address that shortly) and that you want that to sound as amazing as possible. I get that but for the integrity of the show if I have three Cheerios singing I want it to sound like three Cheerios singing. If there are 12 kids (even if one of them is Lea) I want it to sound like 12 kids. I also want them to sound like them meaning ditch the studio singers. Make this happen. And since when has auto tune been allowed in show choir? Take the kids singing Nelly in the choir room in Throwdown. That worked perfectly and felt normal (even though it wasn’t a normal moment).
Point 2: How the hell can those kids sight read so freaking well? I mean besides Rachel, Puck, Artie, and Finn none of the other kids have been shown to have any reason to know how to read music. Even then the guys don’t have to read music they could play by ear (drums, bass, and guitar) and even a great singer like Mercedes may not know how to read sheet music she just has to make it sound like someone else. I enjoy the moments were the kids actually struggle like Tina did with Tonight. This comes into play at Sectionals. I am all for “hey we need to change the set list” but here’s the thing – They had practiced and choreographed DOZENS of numbers instead of using one of those numbers why did they have to come up with an all new number. The least they could have done to explain it is to say “well, we need a new number because we don’t know what other songs of ours the deaf kids are going to sing since we stormed out in the middle of their set”.
Now to my biggest existing pet peeve. I get you people are greedy bastards but seriously get it together with the complete my album feature on iTunes. Or offer up different versions – for example I would love to have the deaf choir version of Imagine mixed AND the New Directions version. Give me a reason to buy the weekly downloads because after getting screwed hard on the first CD I definitely be waiting now to get the new music.
Now to the story point that I still can’t get over after watching every episode at least 12 times – Knocked up Quinn is going to give her baby to Mr. Shu. I get it we need the drama. Where was the fall out? Not once did we have Shu confront Quinn or even mention it to her or anyone. After everything that Will has done for her, he wouldn’t even mention it? Not even directing some of that well deserved rage at the 2.0 version of his wife? Come on? He is all happy go lucky and smiley with her even though he knew that she was lying to him and knew his wife wasn’t pregnant? Who is that conniving at 15? Also, what happened to Quinn after the big reveal? Did she stay with Finn or did she move somewhere else? Emma surely would have interfered had she known anything about it either by giving Quinn the lecture she needs or by finding her a home. Where is my Saved By The Bell after school special moment? All I get is the scene of Quinn and Rachel? “We cool bro?” NO Glee, we ain’t cool.
Now, I know that I shouldn’t judge before watching but it makes me nervous that they are adding all of these new kids. Don’t get me wrong – I love me some Jonathan Groff but what I like most is that he will be at a rival school. The casting notices for a male Mercedes, Kurt’s bf, etc. make me nervous. I want to spend more time with the “friends” we have that we don’t know about like Santana, Brittany, Mike and Matt (whom I still have to IMDB because I only know them as Shaft and other Asian). Not to mention all of this “We didn’t know Puck/Rachel was going to catch on” business? Gee, what are the odds that the annoying young ingénue paired with the bad boy who is really “misunderstood” would take off leaving the guy next door heart broken and left to be the next assistant with Mr. Belding?
Overall, I know I should be happy. You have given me hours of entertainment and a soundtrack that my entire building now knows by heart. I just don’t want you to take a Nip/Tuck move to LA on me. I just wanted to get this off of my chest the way Tyra wanted her weave off. Don’t hate me.
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