Sing-Along

I had a weird dream. For some reason I had a dream about Boots, the pharmacy chain over in the U.K.. Think CVS or Walgreens my digital Americans. Anyway, yes, I was apparently IN the U.K. and was in need of something and as we got off the train(i even dreamed of the public transit system) I was telling my friend that we needed to go to Boots because Boots has EVERYTHING.

Oh, did I mention it was a MUSICAL??? Uh, yeah. With men leaping down the aisle, twirling in front of the underwear as we all sang, "BOOTS has EVERYTHING!!!!! BOOTS, BOOTS, BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOTS has EVVVVVVVVERYTHING!!!!! You can find it HEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEREEE, even clean UNDERWEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAARRR!!!!"

I honestly don't think they sell underwear. Digital U.K.ers??

I woke up with a strong need to hop on a plane and visit the nearest Boots and comb the aisle for all kinds of great treasures. That blue sign is calling to me.

I love Boots.

I'm Sorry, I Can't

"I'm Sorry, I Can't eat anything."

I said this a lot while we were in The Homeland.

"Just PLAIN white rice please."

I said that a lot too.

The Homeland food and I did not get along too very well.

We wanted to like each, really we did, but somewhere along the line, we had a major disagreement and never recovered from it.

Food would be brought out and my stomach would turn. Food would be forced down my throat and my stomach would convulse.

In the beginning F and I ate happily. About 3 days in though, we were both not feeling well. I think it all linked back to Christmas Eve night when F's cousin got me trashed without me realizing it until I attempted the stairs in my fancy Christmas heels. When F's Cousin asked me what I liked to drink, I said, Vanilla Vodka, which he brought to me straight, not even on the rocks.

"Um, with Coke please?"

"Coke? You want me to MIX it TOGETHER?????!!!!!"

"Yes please. Lord, if I drank it straight!!!!!!!!!"

Well, I might as well have been drinking it straight, a splash of Coke at best was added. The next morning, Christmas Day, F and I were to meet up with Cousin and begin our tour.

"F, I don't think I can make it. I feel horrid."

"It's because you drank so much last night, DH."

"What? I only had 3 glasses."

"Uh, Nooooo, more like 6."

"NO????!!!!"

"Oh yeah, and Cousin wasn't mixing them light either."

"Oh, ugh."

Needless to say, F and I spent Christmas day in bed, with the shades drawn. I could finally stand around 6 pm when we were summoned for dinner. Drinking and Jet Lag do not mix well, FYI.

It was pretty much down hill after that. Thankfully F's Other Cousin is a pharmacist and got us all kinds of good meds. At first, they worked fine. So I think we got cocky and quite taking them. BIG MISTAKE.

The last week we were there? I was sick as a dog. My intestines convulsed to the point I was doubled over in pain. Anything I ate, came racing back out. I was nauseated the whole time. F wanted to take me to the hospital, I refused.

Other Cousin was consulted once again and he had more drugs sent over. (a plus about the homeland, EVERYTHING delivers, even McDonald's!)

24 Hours a day!

The drugs helped, but I could tell the SECOND they began to wear off because my intestines would start twitching.

The flights home were a nightmare. A flight attendant took one look at me and asked me if I was OK. Luckily I had enough drugs in me and was so exhausted from being sick, that I slept most of the way home. It took me 3 weeks to finally be able to eat normally again, without pain and nausea.

I can only imagine what the Extended Family thought of me. I hope they understood. I wasn't being rude or picky, just sickie.

Then about 2 weeks after we got home, we get a letter from Costco telling us that the power bars we bought to take with us, potentially had some of that tainted peanut butter in them.

We ate those daily.

Grrrrreeeeeeeeeeeeeaaaaaaaaaaaaaat.

Just Being Nice?

After having visited The Homeland I found my Facebook account full of, well, new faces. All of F's second cousins, all in their 20's, are on FB. One cousin in particular is constantly making comments about how nice I look in the pics I post. Very flattering, true. But you know, how you get that twinge? That little alarm bell that tells you maybe, just maybe he's being more than just nice??
Mine is going off.
I think F's cousin is flirting with me.
Via Facebook.
But I'm not sure.
I've tried to chalk it up to the fact that English is 1 of like 6 languages he speaks, and he's just not using the proper words. But that hasn't quieted my little alarm bell. Granted he is thousand of miles away, and this should in no way make me feel uncomfortable, but it does.
Generally, I love a good flirt session.
But I'm married now.
And flirting is not allowed.
Be I flirtee, or flirter.
It's just weird. He is a very nice guy. We got along well whenever we were visiting. He speaks English, so naturally I looked forward to having someone to talk to. And there were a couple of times when my little alarm bell would give out a ring or two while we were actually IN The Homeland, but I didn't really catch on to that until AFTER we got back and I started reading my FB comments and putting it all together.
What's a girl to do?
Of course I'm going to let it go. It's nothing. I'm crazy.
Shhhhh, little alarm bell, shhhhhhhh..............

Not For The Public

I joined Face Book. I had no idea how many people are on there. And I find it weird that people I wasn't friends with in the past(the "in crowd kids") want to be "friends" now. But then never make comments on what have you on your page. Or we weren't friend in the past, and now that I said "yes" to their friends' request, all I get from them is request for more crap. Join this group! Give this FLARE! Save this animal! LOOK AT ME!!!!
Honestly? I just got on there because one friend, who I don't get to talk to or see much, asked me to join so we could keep in touch. Now, I'm kinda into looking up people from my past to see what they are up to. It's weird.
Anyway, I think some people are way too into it. The "What are you doing now?" section for some people is a minute by minute update. I honestly don't care that you are watching TV. Or starting dinner. Granted, I have put some stupid stuff up there, but not the kind of stuff I REALLY want to say. I mean, F's family is linked into this! MY family is linked into this. Ok, my family knows me so no big, but still.

Things not to post on your Face Book "What Are You Doing Now?" Section:


DH is.........

1) .....Farting up a storm because I had Mexican for lunch.

2) ......Suffering from major PMS cramps.

3) ......Wishing my husband would stop calling me at work about stupid stuff.

4) ......Trying to figure out how the hell to keep the new shoes I just bought out of my husband's line of sight.

5) ......Wishing Miss Needy would stop sending me FB requests and updates.

6) .......Thinking So and So sure got ugly after high school, did you see the updated pic? YIKES!!!

7) ........Thinking So and So might be a serial killer/tower sniper. Have you SEEN the stuff on their FB page?!?!?!

8) ......Horny.

9)...... Dreading the Holidays spent with the In-Laws.

10)...... Ready to start drinking while on the job, because of the job.


What stuff would you like to post on your Face Book "What are you doing Now?" section but can't because of who can see it?

Void

Did any of you see this interview?
Shower not working Mr Phoenix?
Comb lost all it's teeth Mr Phoenix?
Clippers have a low battery Mr Phoenix?
Hello?
Mr Phoenix?
What is the cause of that mental haze you're experiencing Mr Phoenix?



Studio Exces, regretting your decision to make him go on a press junket yet????

The Homeland....At Last

As we exited Customs' detainment into the airport lobby the sun of freedom shone brightly in my eyes (literally, the sun was shining in my eyes) but was dulled when my ears were assaulted by FIL’s voice calling out to F to get his attention.
“F!!!!!!!!!!!!! F!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

OMG! F failed to tell me we were going to be chaperoned by FIL for the next 3 weeks!!!!

Thankfully, that was not the case. FIL’s voice belonged to F’s cousin who is FIL’s nephew, hence not only did his voice sound the same, he looked like FIL as well. But that, my digital friends is where the similarities ended. And that went for the rest of the family members I met. F's extended family was amazingly nice. I liked them, A LOT. Not near as crazy as the American contingent. This greatly eased my mind.

What I was not prepared for however, was the massive culture shock. Traveling Westernized Europe did not make me as worldly as I thought it had. I apologize for my arrogance.

As I said, The Homeland is classified as a 3rd world country. So I was expecting 2 things. Dirt roads and mud huts or wide tree lined streets with white washed, walled in homes. See, I'd never really seen any pictures of The Homeland, not the parts where people live anyway. Just the tourists’ parts.

When we left the airport and the heavily armed police, there were tree lined streets and heavily armed police. This gave way to a dirty, over crowded, polluted city, and more heavily armed police. Think NYC about 20+ yrs ago. My senses were bombarded with the sickening smell of diesel fuel. Overwhelmed by the non-stop honking of horns. My nerves became raw from the constant near misses during every car ride. 2 lanes of traffic became 4 or 6. Nobody knew how to stay in their own lane. Motorcycles whipped and weaved in and out of traffic. F and I were horrified one day while we were on the "Expressway" and we looked out our windows to see a family of 4; On a MOTORCYCLE. The 3 yr old was seated happily between the handle bars, Dad was driving, Mom perched side-saddle with a BABY held in her arms. Not a helmet in sight. A BABY ON A MOTORCYCLE!!!! Adults and children darted into traffic narrowly making it to the other side of the street. Every morning we were awakened by a man making his way down our street selling his "fresh" bread. Everything was dirty.
It was a team effort to take a hot shower.
In the beginning it was just part of the adventure. By the time we were close to leaving I had all I could do to not fling open the patio doors and scream down at the Bread Man to “SHUT THE FUCK UP!!!!!”


I stuck out. F stuck out because he was with me. The Natives couldn't decide if he was one of them or not because he was dressed like an American, and his knowledge of the language was "broken" or "crappy" as his cousins put it.
The first “National Monument” we went to was a lesson I’ll never forget. First of all the “Tourism Police” were dressed head to toe in black with blood red accents. They carried guns. Menacing? You better believe it. Especially when you can’t speak the language but you know you are being discussed by the use of “Madame” over and over again and then are told to stay in the car with a person you’d just met (F’s cousin who picked us up at the airport) who’s not telling you what’s going on and your husband gets out of the car and disappears into a throng of tourists. Second, F’s passport says he was born in The Homeland. So he got the “Resident’s” price. Me? F had to pay the “tourist” price for me. His price? 3 “dollars”. The price for a “tourist”? 65 “dollars”. Because he couldn’t PROVE I was his wife. I was floored. That marriage license would have come in handy, but who would think to take a marriage license to go see the Statue of Liberty???(you realize I’m just using lady liberty as an example right?) Because I am married to F I am now considered to be a “Resident” even though F hasn’t lived there for 30yrs and is an American Citizen. On several other trips to go see “National Monuments”, we were with a tour group. Our guide knew we were married (he required no proof) and so when he purchased us tickets he purchased a “resident” ticket for me. EVERY SINGLE TIME I handed over my ticket, I was questioned, “You a Resident???????” F would either be in front of me or behind me in line and it got to the point when they would look at me questioningly and asked me “you a resident?” I’d just point to F who would then jump in and explain that I was his wife. One other couple in our group was the opposite of us. She was the “Resident”, he was the foreigner. She told us that when she went to book a ride on an over-night train the booking agent wouldn’t book her in a room with her husband because she could supply no proof that he was indeed her husband, and women who are native of The Homeland are not allowed to travel over-night in the same room with a foreign man who isn’t her husband. So she had to book the train as a foreigner and pay foreigner prices. She told us that because she is a woman who married a non-native man, she herself is no longer considered a Resident like F is.
The Homeland is not about gender equality.

Sticking out is not an all out fun time party party!!! I got stares. Open. Point. Blank. Stares. I decided I would meet all stares with a winning smile! It didn’t help. No one would smile back at me. They would glare, or look away, but no one, save for ONE woman in a grocery store, smiled back. That trip, to the grocery store, was the most self esteem devastating hour of my life. I looked different than everyone there. I dressed different than everyone there. I stuck out. I knew I would. My appearance didn’t cause any great commotion, other than people running into each other because they couldn’t stop staring, but it caused me great emotional turmoil. The hostility was palpable. I didn’t belong and they wanted me to know it. As I told Eldest Sister when we got home, I consider myself a strong, confident person, but by the time we left that grocery store, I had all I could do to keep my head up and my eyes dry. After awhile it got to F too. Before the trip was over we were both returning the stares, without the smile.
The people we actually interacted with were always friendly and polite. No one was rude. The Rule that CBF taught me on our trips applied well to The Homeland as well, "Always Make Friends With the Help(bartender)." F is amazing at this, and it got us so many great things. And as I learned more words, I became a great delight and source of entertainment because the Natives weren't expecting it.
But they still stared.
They just weren't hostile about it.

Pee Your Pants Moment

F is from a 3rd World Country. As many 3rd World Countries go, they are a tad bit, um, more militant when it comes to airports and points of entry into their country.
This was extremely evident as we landed in F’s Homeland. The airport was small and dingy and in need of some upgrading and some happier paint colors. As we made our way through the airport F’s body tensed. He became snippy with me. I was trudging along, dying for some clean knickers, secure in the mindset that customs would be a breeze (silly American that I am, why would there be a problem?). This is when F slows his step and tells me, “DH, my heart is pounding like crazy.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know. I just think that there’s going to be a problem getting through customs.”
“Why would there be?”
“They have mandatory military service here. They could detain me and make me serve maybe.”
“What? You have an American past port, don’t worry about it.”
“Do you have our marriage license?”
“What? Why would we need that? I don’t have it, YOU do.”
“Just let me do the talking, OK?!?!”
“FINE.” I had to bite my lip. I don’t like being told to keep quiet, who does?
“DH, you go first.”
And as I thought, my happy American ass sailed through customs. I waited next to F as he handed over his pass port to the less than smiley customs agent.
“Sir, please wait over there.”
My stomach dropped. Suddenly clean knickers were a luxury.
“Is there a problem?” F asked.
“Please wait over there.”

F turns to me. “GO THROUGH!”
“NO! I’m not leaving you, are you crazy?!?!?”
We make our way over to the waiting area where several well dressed men, ALL men, no women, are milling about. F digs into his backpack and hands me a cell phone we bought State side and therefore didn’t even know worked over there yet or not (it didn’t) a stack of papers and says, “Here, if they don’t let me go, you know what to do.”

WHHHHHHHHHHHHHHAAAAAT? I had no freaking clue what to do!!!!

“I don’t know what to do!!”(he told me later that I was suppose to call his cousins, which even then he didn’t say which ones, and have them come get us. Or call FIL, who has government connections. All with a phone that wouldn't have worked. Yeah.)

“Fine. Stay here.”

We both fell into moody silence as we watched a customs agent take F’s passport and disappear through a door. All I could think was, they could take it, and say he never presented it. And he’d be stuck there forever as I wandered the airport parking lot trying to find someone who spoke English who could take me to the American Consulate so I could get help. (I also thought of Bridget Jones being rescued by Mark Darcy when she got jailed for drug smuggling and all I could think was, I don’t know a Mark Darcy!)
A man dressed in civilian clothing came into the waiting area and was asking for F. But we weren’t sure he was asking for F because he was using a different version of F’s name. (long complicated story, ok, maybe not, but I don't feel like explaining it. It has to do with their naming/nicknames customs.)
“I think he’s looking for me. Wait here while I go ask.”
I was hopeful. But F came back moments later, “I really think he was looking for me, but he didn’t understand the name issue.”
We probably waited no more than 15 minutes, but it seemed like days. Finally they called F back up again.
“You may go.”
“Was there a problem?” (WTF!!!! He said we could go, just flipping GO!!!! I wanted to scream at him.)
“You may go.”
Finally F lead the way out.


At that point, right there, I wanted to turn around, get back on the plane and go home. I’m not going to lie. I knew, in my gut, that F and I would encounter this kind of scrutiny in some form or other everywhere we went. I let F do the talking the rest of the trip. And it ground every independent feminist fiber in my body to shreds to stand there and keep my mouth shut while I smiled sweetly.

This my digital friends, is how our Honeymoon began.

Welcome to, The Homeland.

Chinny Chin Chin

That hair on my chin? This one that I plucked before?
The damn thing keeps coming back.
WTF???

Planning Ahead

I was talking to my mom about babies and showers and gifts. I was attempting to plant the seed that when my time comes I would like this fabulous rocker/glider. My mother has several of the less fancy ones, and everyone loves to sit in them. When I mentioned that I'd like one since she got SIL one, she came back with something about "the chair instead of a shower."



WHHHHHAAAAAAAT?!?!?!!?!?!??!

No no no! I want the chair AT the shower!



Greedy? When it comes to this rocker glider, you better believe it. They are pricey, very true. But my mom has, 'connections', and can get the chair at a nice discount. But the opportunity for said deep discount will expire soon. So I was hoping she'd do a little shopping now. Plan ahead and all that.

I'm not sure I was too very convincing. She didn't seem to buy any of my reasoning.

I really want one of these chairs! How can I convince her? HOW!?!?!?

Yeppers

You ever have one of those clothing days where you haven't done the laundry in awhile but you need something to wear so you pick say the last pair of jeans on the hanger and you look at them and think "Wow, I forgot I had these! I wonder why I don't wear them more?" And you put them on and they feel pretty good and look pretty good and then its after lunch and suddenly your gut is getting mushed by said "pretty good" jeans and it's been an hour now and they aren't stretching out and you are seriously considering sitting at your desk with your pants not only unbutton but also unzipped? And then you remember why you don't wear them anymore and wonder why the hell you don't just give them away?
Yeah, uh, me neither. How silly.

Ouchie **UPDATE***

****UPDATE*****

This headache lasted all weekend. I took yesterday off and ended up at the doctor's where they were GOING to give me a shot of Demerol, but couldn't because I drove myself there. So I got the lame ass vicodin. Actually, I got the GENERIC for vicodin. Bastards. Still have the headache, not as bad, but now my eye twitches when I type. Which I suppose is an improvement over the nail in the ear.

Ouchie

I have one of those headaches where typing on my keyboard is like driving a nail through my ear into my brain.
Today is going to be a fun day.

I....What?

I just had a co-worker stop in and tell me, "Marriage must really agree with you because you look really great now! What a big difference!"

I know she was trying to be nice and compliment my new hair style. But whenever anyone says something like that to me, it always makes me think I looked like total crap before.

Um, Hello?

Is this thing on? Anybody out there?
I guess I overrated myself.

Ahem. No burning questions concerning the trip to The Homeland?
Nothing?

wow.
Does this mean I actually have to just, you know, TELL you stuff that happened?

Or don't you want to know?

Anybody?

Bueller?

Where to Begin?

So much happened while we were in The Homeland for our Honeymoon, I’m not sure what to tell you first.
Should I tell you of all the strange things I saw and experienced?
How badly I was slapped by the mistress of culture shock?
What F’s extended family was like?
I can’t tell you of the sights I saw, because that would be a dead give away of where we were. I CAN tell you, THEY WERE AMAZING.
I can’t post pictures for obvious reasons.
I tried to document things to tell you, but that quickly fell by the way side in the flurry of activity.
Please forgive me.
So I’m putting it to you, dear digital reader, what do you want to hear about? I’m remembering things day by day, so some stories may come much later in the rotation than when they actually happened.
I await your requests.

Cute or Crafty??

F is HOT.
F is HOT to have, wait, MAKE a baby.
Yes, this is his new line when asking for sex.
F: "DH! Let's make a BABY!!!"

See, my great Period Plan for the Honeymoon completely crashed and burned. I started the Pill two weeks late expecting it to push back the start of said period by, well, 2 weeks. Not so Pill fans, not so. Period came right on f'ing time, and then, decided to stay, just a little longer. So while lamenting about this and how screwed up my system now was to F, he says, "DH, why don't you just stop taking them? What's the worst that could happen? You get pregnant."(this new idea was fostered lovingly by his Homeland family members.)

I was speechless.

He was right.

But I had to really think about it. REALLY Think about it. After what, 15 years of an on again off again affair with the Pill, I was finally in a place where I didn't need it anymore and I was struck dumb by that fact. Getting pregnant was ALWAYS the worst that could happen (outside of diseases of course) and here I was, in a place where it is no longer the worst, but the WANTED.
I'm still kind of stumbling over it. Especially when I see the telling purple packaging laying unused in the medicine cabinet. But a BABY! Wow, a baby could HAPPEN, FOR REAL anytime.
And it would be a GOOD THING.
But I still think F is using this to his horn ball advantage.

Glad To Be Back Where.....

1) Public toilets are FREE.....

2) ....and they come with the T.P.

3) All showers are hot, and are used DAILY, along with deodorant.

4) F and I are not a freak show for any and all to stare at openly.


We're back, praise the LORD.

More to follow.......................

Feel the Guilt

I got a random call on my cell that I almost didn't answer. It was the Nephew of my dad's best friend. The Best Friend, whom we all called Uncle, past away last month. The Nephew found my number and called me to relay the news since my mother had sent The Uncle a Christmas card.


I felt guilty because mom and I decided not to invite said Uncle to the wedding. If we had, it would have been the last time everyone would have seen him.


Guilt.



Mom says not to feel guilty. She said that since the last time we DID see him, when mom and I invited him over for dinner, he arrived, late, and DRUNK. Olfactory and visibly DRUNK. And that if he felt the need to drink heavily before joining just the two of us for dinner that if he DID come to the wedding, where all of us were, it probably wouldn't have been pretty.

I still feel bad.
Especially when I ran across his address while doing Christmas cards. Or when I ran across his e-mail address. I just can't bring myself to erase/delete it. It makes it so very, final.

I hope you are happy where you are now Uncle, with plenty of fishing, bowling your old dog and booze, if you so desire.



Please tell my Dad, I said Hi, that I love him, and I hope he was able to peek in on my wedding.

Please Take These Back

F and I went shopping to get him new underwear to take with us to The Homeland. The package was opened so he didn't want to get it. I rolled my eyes, sighed heavily and made him buy them.

We get home, he washes them, dries them, and then calls me down stairs.

"DH, I can't believe this! These underwear aren't even the brand they were suppose to be! AND!!! AND!!!!!! They've been WORN!!!!!!!!"



"OMG! What? How can you tell? Are there stains or something?????"





"NO, but look! The waist band!" The waist band had piled, or fuzzed, or whatever you want to call it, from being worn.



He folded them back up, shoved them back into the packaging and we head back to the store to return them.

The store was horrified and told F he was much calmer than they'd think he'd be after that and gave him a new set, in an unopened package.



I felt bad that I made him buy them, but I still laughed, I mean seriously, who would have thought???????????

Goose / Gander

Do you know the saying? What's good for the Goose is good for the Gander? It's one of my favorite sayings, right up there with the Pot calling the Kettle Black. And despite what Omarosa said, it isn't a racist statement, which she knew when she claimed it was. Whatever.

Anyway! Remember the mandatory gift giving ladies? The ones who complain about having to participate in office potlucks?? We had our Holiday Potluck here in the office. Many people brought things. We always have it on a Thursday because there are a ton of leftovers and that way we can re-enjoy all the fabulous food on Friday. Well, 5 of these mandatory gift ladies "chipped in" and brought a ham.

Which after everyone was done eating, was immediately bagged up, evenly, and passed back out to the Chipper-inners.

There's the holiday sharing spirit we were looking for!

Apparently, what is good for the geese, is not good for the ganders.

Imagine that.