I can't update for realz today because I'm too tired. I have to head "home" today for my great uncle's funeral (I didn't know him well at all, just going because it was my grandpa's last living sibling & he's really sad). RIP, great uncle. He was old and it was totally his time. Maybe it was his time a few years ago-- ya know-- one of those situations. Much suffering.
I also desperately need a haircut. Like, a real one. Because of my constant moving around, finding a new salon is SUCH A HASSLE. URGH. Particularly for me, as I don't need my hair "styled," just cut. In a straight line. I asked J to do it (with hair cutting scissors) & he gets all upset. I'm like, "J. Can you cut in a straight line?" J: "it's not that easy!" Me: "Yes, it is. Straight line." Halfway through the haircut- literally half of my hair is 3 inches shorter than the rest-- he drops the scissors and tells me to go to a professional. He didn't understand that NOW, with my hair 2 dramatically different lengths, THAT is not an option. So I cut the rest of it myself. I couldn't understand why he was upset with me when I was the 1 w crazy hair.
I then felt bad because he told me he was just overwhelmed at the prospect of ruining my hair. Laugh. Little does he know how I take negative pride in my hair &, in fact, hate it. Poor guy.
Monday, May 18, 2009
Thursday, May 14, 2009
The Gondola Ride
As it was our honeymoon & we were in Venice, etc... we decided we should take a gondola ride. We didn't want to do it in the day because all tourists (myself included) stop, stare & usually photograph the gondola & subsequently, whoever is on it-- way too public. Words cannot express the amount of tourists in Venice in August. I've never felt so claustrophicin my life. Nonetheless, the most beautiful city I've ever visited.
So the gondola ride- we knew it needed to happen at night. My tour book said that it should cost no more than $X but the number of gondoleers is limited at night. So we ended up overpaying for sure, but whatevs, right? We hop on and we're cruising around these little canals. Coolest thing ever. The drawback: Our gondoleer. Think used car salesman in stripes. Awful. We weren't like trying to whisper sweet nothing and kiss and crap- we were just trying to enjoy the ride-- look around, point out crazy sh*t-- in relative silence... but to no avail.
1. He kept trying to upcharge.
example:
Me: can you take us on the grand canal?
Him (internally: oh, that's where she wants to go. they will pay a lot) externally: beautiful! an extra $50 euro)
Me: WHAT? nevermind.
Jim, under his breath: f*cking goon.
Me, under breath: I hate him.
Jim, under breath: me too. whatever.
2. He kept trying to TALK to us- & turn this into some sort of f*cking guided tour!
Him: Pssst! Pssst! Look at me!
We have to turn our bodies ALL the way around (there is a reason we had our back to him!) and ask what?
Him: That is where Hemingway stayed!
Me: Nice.
Turned back around. WHO CARES?!!!
Him: Psst! Psst! Look at me!
We comply, staring at him. This time I'm impatient becuase he's so irritating.
Him: That building is really old (or some other f*cking obvious factoid).
We don't respond and just turn around.
I was so pissed. It would've been so awesome if he would've just understood that gondoleers are to be seen and not heard (unless they want to sing or whatever). He was such a creep.
Our prayers for a cool and non-irritating boat trip came true, however. We took a private taxi from the water entrance of our hotel to the airport in Venice. Best. Boat trip. Ever.
Wednesday, May 13, 2009
Vanity
While in general I love Europe, I must occasionally remind myself to enjoy it and not freak because they don't have irons, the lighting is too dim, blow dryers blow luke warm air & curling irons collect the faintest of heat.
My other gripe which makes me sound like an American douchebag, is the lack of convenience stores. "Enjoy Europe and shut up you spoiled brat!" you say? Well try walking around with a severe hangover and NOT having a bodega/rite aid/walgreens ANYWHERE on the continent. Instead, you must search for a pharmacy (open 9-5, mon-fri). And ask a man behind the counter for tylenol. For voltage adaptors one must go to a hardware store, and curling irons- an ELECTRONICS store-and it costs $70!!. Grocery stores sell food. The end. (note: I found London slightly more convenient (though not as convenient as the United States). OH! and no dogs are neutered. Not a one.
But they do feed their homeless. The man pictured below was clearly homeless. He wandered up and asked restaurant patrons for money. The restauranteur came out and asked him not to beg & disappeared inside. The homeless man sat down & listened to his shoddy little radio. The restauranteur then reappeared with a plate full of pasta & said "al dente," as if to say, "al dente, just the way you like it." It melted my heart. I love Italy.
Tuesday, May 12, 2009
Florence
The train to Florence.
So we forget to get 1st class. This wouldn't have been such a big deal if the train was SO crowded and it wasn't 200 degrees outside & everyone smelled like body odor. We got off at the wrong Florence stop- super far away from everything & spent 4 hours lost. J is wearing long pants, shoes, and a long sleeved button down. He's sweltering but REFUSES to let me wheel the suitcase- "I'm not gonna look like some pussy who lets his wife deal with the luggage." Furious. I couldn't stop laughing at the situation.
It was August, so everything was deserted. We finally came upon mechanics & I utilized my rusty Italian. THANK GOD I took Italian in college because everyone is dead f*cking WRONG when they tell you "Oh, everybody speaks English." NOBODY speaks English. I felt like I was in a French country village (I enjoyed St. Louis more than France, by the way). 3 hours later we find our hotel.
Our hotel ruled. Because it was our honeymoon, they upgraded us & had peanuts/champagne waiting. We downed the entire bottle and passed out.
Note: That night J dragged me out & made me walk up a huge hill to a place called Piazza Michelangelo. All the way I whined like a 5 year old. It was too hot, too steep, & I didn't want to go. But this was the view: It doesn't quite capture the heat. Pretty, but overall, Florence was my least favorite city in Italy.
So we forget to get 1st class. This wouldn't have been such a big deal if the train was SO crowded and it wasn't 200 degrees outside & everyone smelled like body odor. We got off at the wrong Florence stop- super far away from everything & spent 4 hours lost. J is wearing long pants, shoes, and a long sleeved button down. He's sweltering but REFUSES to let me wheel the suitcase- "I'm not gonna look like some pussy who lets his wife deal with the luggage." Furious. I couldn't stop laughing at the situation.
It was August, so everything was deserted. We finally came upon mechanics & I utilized my rusty Italian. THANK GOD I took Italian in college because everyone is dead f*cking WRONG when they tell you "Oh, everybody speaks English." NOBODY speaks English. I felt like I was in a French country village (I enjoyed St. Louis more than France, by the way). 3 hours later we find our hotel.
Our hotel ruled. Because it was our honeymoon, they upgraded us & had peanuts/champagne waiting. We downed the entire bottle and passed out.
Note: That night J dragged me out & made me walk up a huge hill to a place called Piazza Michelangelo. All the way I whined like a 5 year old. It was too hot, too steep, & I didn't want to go. But this was the view: It doesn't quite capture the heat. Pretty, but overall, Florence was my least favorite city in Italy.
The next day we got drinks at our hotel bar & I made friends with a pigeon.
Monday, May 11, 2009
Last Exam Ever...
........unless I fail, of course. I'm at the library now and before I start studying, I decided to check every blog I've ever read in my entire life, read every news story, attempt to find Eminem's new album online, look for which book I will read next, and stare at the girl next to me.
I'm steadily increasing the odds of having to take another law school exam.
Land Use Planning, believe it or not, f*cking blows.
I don't know if I ever told you this story about the honeymoon. So we were in Rome and towards the end of the week, we mastered the art of sleeping until noon and drinking our faces off all day-- and seeing every historical site and ruin with a solid buzz. Then celebrating the heat, our honeymoon, and being in Italy with a bottle of wine.
We had reservations to see the Vatican on Thurs, 8am. I thought we'd beat both the lines & the heat, which we did. But unfortunately our new sleeping and drinking habits betrayed us. On Wednesday night after dinner, we sat a in a piazza and drank beers-- many beers. And probably wine. And watched people & dogs.
The next morning at 7am our alarm went off and we arose very hungry and hung over. We went to the Vatican, waited in line for 2 hours. We eavesdropped on the others & shared stories. I felt dirty and my motor skills were off. I was miserable.
So we get in the Vatican and decide we're too lazy and hung over to do one of those tours (which we TOTALLY regret now) so we trek through to the Sistine Chapel (which is at the very end). Everything is marble, including the floors. I am wearing flip flops and a sundress. I traipse ungracefully down marble stairs. And then, I fall. Right on my a$$. In front of like 1 million people.
J starts hysterically laughing and I start half-crying, half-laughing because I'm hung over and my butt hurts. The security guard just stared. I get up, brush myself off and continue with J continuously saying "Watch your step! Be Careful! There are stairs right ahead! HAHAHA I can't believe you fell in the Vatican! That was hilarious! Are you ok? Oh, watch out! Here come more stairs!"
Oh, and 2 days later, we were in a little town on a hilltop called Orvieto. We pulled the same "let's drink 3 gallons of Italian beer" trick. The hotel was akin to a bed & breakfast. The next morning, my motor skills again off, I spilled dark blueberry yogurt all over the white table cloth. We dropped a few euros on the table and bolted.
I'm steadily increasing the odds of having to take another law school exam.
Land Use Planning, believe it or not, f*cking blows.
I don't know if I ever told you this story about the honeymoon. So we were in Rome and towards the end of the week, we mastered the art of sleeping until noon and drinking our faces off all day-- and seeing every historical site and ruin with a solid buzz. Then celebrating the heat, our honeymoon, and being in Italy with a bottle of wine.
We had reservations to see the Vatican on Thurs, 8am. I thought we'd beat both the lines & the heat, which we did. But unfortunately our new sleeping and drinking habits betrayed us. On Wednesday night after dinner, we sat a in a piazza and drank beers-- many beers. And probably wine. And watched people & dogs.
The next morning at 7am our alarm went off and we arose very hungry and hung over. We went to the Vatican, waited in line for 2 hours. We eavesdropped on the others & shared stories. I felt dirty and my motor skills were off. I was miserable.
So we get in the Vatican and decide we're too lazy and hung over to do one of those tours (which we TOTALLY regret now) so we trek through to the Sistine Chapel (which is at the very end). Everything is marble, including the floors. I am wearing flip flops and a sundress. I traipse ungracefully down marble stairs. And then, I fall. Right on my a$$. In front of like 1 million people.
J starts hysterically laughing and I start half-crying, half-laughing because I'm hung over and my butt hurts. The security guard just stared. I get up, brush myself off and continue with J continuously saying "Watch your step! Be Careful! There are stairs right ahead! HAHAHA I can't believe you fell in the Vatican! That was hilarious! Are you ok? Oh, watch out! Here come more stairs!"
Oh, and 2 days later, we were in a little town on a hilltop called Orvieto. We pulled the same "let's drink 3 gallons of Italian beer" trick. The hotel was akin to a bed & breakfast. The next morning, my motor skills again off, I spilled dark blueberry yogurt all over the white table cloth. We dropped a few euros on the table and bolted.
Thursday, May 7, 2009
Flat Tire
Post-3 hours exam, I dash to the parking garage from law school at 9:30pm. Only to find a flat tire. It's pouring. I'm starving and tired. J made me dinner and was waiting at home for me. I called my mom, got her AAA number and waited for the truck to come. The parking garage security guard was really nice and made me feel as safe as I was going to possibly feel in that part of town. I walked to 7-11 & bought myself some food. Truck came. Didn't have any cash to tip him, thought he might kill me. Thus far, he did not kill me. J drove out to meet me. We dropped my car off at the old apartment because it was raining so hard and my windshield wipers suck. I hate that car with every inch of my being. I would get a new one except my job was pushed back. I feel as though I have very bad luck.
Ahh, yes. See how easily I slip back into the self-pity pool? Woe is me. I often think of my dear friend Miss AFMF- she always calls me out on my tendency to feel bad for myself when I am not to be pitied.
That said, I almost got a year of marriage under the belt. Isn't that crazy? J asked me what I want and I said (1) a new car. But not any old car. A car of my choosing. This will not happen. Secondly, I want a facial and a manicure/pedicure. After this rough winter, moving, puppy training, a rainy 2 months and finals-- only to immediately begin studying for the bar exam, I cannot think of anything that I need/want more than a trip to the spa. I look and feel like total sh*t. I know that I should study today, but I'm contemplating going the whole 9 yards this afternoon. J seems to have his own gift ideas, though. So I think this is what I'm going to get myself as a law school graduation present.
1 more final to go.
Ahh, yes. See how easily I slip back into the self-pity pool? Woe is me. I often think of my dear friend Miss AFMF- she always calls me out on my tendency to feel bad for myself when I am not to be pitied.
That said, I almost got a year of marriage under the belt. Isn't that crazy? J asked me what I want and I said (1) a new car. But not any old car. A car of my choosing. This will not happen. Secondly, I want a facial and a manicure/pedicure. After this rough winter, moving, puppy training, a rainy 2 months and finals-- only to immediately begin studying for the bar exam, I cannot think of anything that I need/want more than a trip to the spa. I look and feel like total sh*t. I know that I should study today, but I'm contemplating going the whole 9 yards this afternoon. J seems to have his own gift ideas, though. So I think this is what I'm going to get myself as a law school graduation present.
1 more final to go.
Tuesday, May 5, 2009
Last night J comes home and says, 'M, you really need to get off facebook.'
Me: 'How come?'
J: 'I spoke to my mom today and she said [in J mom voice] 'I saw M's update today on facebook'' (it was a note about how much I hate law school, obviously)
M: 'She did? I'm surprised she read it.'
J: 'Dude. She reads everything on there.'
YIKES!
So this inspired me to go on my sister-in-law's myspace for some reason. She posted a ton of new pictures. Note: This is the one who is 9 months pregnant and I'm trying to re-establish a more solid relationship with. Lo and behold-- she has posted a picture of her with 2 random dudes (1 on either side of her), each with a hand on her enormous breasts.
I then took the time off of studying for bankruptcy to ponder WHY someone would post this on a public website when 9 months pregnant (This photo was a new addition to her collection).
Attention? "I'm still sexy even though I'm pregnant?" "My life isn't over just because I'm about to give birth?" "I'm willing to let you touch my boobs even though I'm married and soon to be a mother?" "Look how wild and crazy I am?" "I'm so incredibly desirable that random men want to touch my boobs?" "Boobs boobs boobs?" "I love my boobs?" "Look, I'm sitting in the bar 9 months pregnant smoking a cigarette?" (For some reason this one cracked me up)
Who knows. I realized the true innocence in my facebook status update revealed to my mother-in-law, considering what MY poor ma has to deal with!
Me: 'How come?'
J: 'I spoke to my mom today and she said [in J mom voice] 'I saw M's update today on facebook'' (it was a note about how much I hate law school, obviously)
M: 'She did? I'm surprised she read it.'
J: 'Dude. She reads everything on there.'
YIKES!
So this inspired me to go on my sister-in-law's myspace for some reason. She posted a ton of new pictures. Note: This is the one who is 9 months pregnant and I'm trying to re-establish a more solid relationship with. Lo and behold-- she has posted a picture of her with 2 random dudes (1 on either side of her), each with a hand on her enormous breasts.
I then took the time off of studying for bankruptcy to ponder WHY someone would post this on a public website when 9 months pregnant (This photo was a new addition to her collection).
Attention? "I'm still sexy even though I'm pregnant?" "My life isn't over just because I'm about to give birth?" "I'm willing to let you touch my boobs even though I'm married and soon to be a mother?" "Look how wild and crazy I am?" "I'm so incredibly desirable that random men want to touch my boobs?" "Boobs boobs boobs?" "I love my boobs?" "Look, I'm sitting in the bar 9 months pregnant smoking a cigarette?" (For some reason this one cracked me up)
Who knows. I realized the true innocence in my facebook status update revealed to my mother-in-law, considering what MY poor ma has to deal with!
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