Monday, March 30, 2009

It's either a moldy watermelon or a fluffy cow. I can't tell!

woah! this might be the busiest work week i have had in months. yet, somehow i have managed to spend nearly half an hour (ok, an hour. ok an hour and a half) reviewing my favorite mcsweeney's lists, sadly. for your case of the mondays:

jokes made by robots, for robots

reasons not to fear the reaper

things this one girl sitting near me in a movie theater said out loud when one of the characters was shown pulling into a gas station

punchlines suggested by ashton kutcher for punk'd that were rejected due to their archaic nature

mildly disturbing greeting card messages

haiku a bitter duck might write

ways in which the hunter might become the hunted


New Orleans story time!

So, the local beer of choice around here, since the Dixie Brewery was raped by Katrina, is Abita. It's analogous to Sam Adams in many ways - not the cheapest beer around, though it often can be, and with lots of varieties, seasonals, etc. Also, it's made locally - on the other side of Lake Ponchartrain (on the mythical North Shore). On Saturday, I weaseled my way into (a.k.a. got invited to) their employee crawfish boil. It was perhaps the most magical day of my life.

Yes, that's a wall of 15 taps. Yes, it was all free. Yes, I drank all the kinds of beer, some more than others, for a grand total of something like 20 beers over 6 hours. I was in an excellent place.

The only thing that saved my liver from complete annihilation was a whole crapload of crawfish (for the uninitiated, crawfish are sometimes called "crawdads" or "crayfish" in the north, and they look like tiny lobsters) and a burger that probably weighed 8 pounds.

The magic really hit home when my acquaintance Scott, who's a brewer there, gave us an all access tour. This included suckling directly from the teet of the chilling tanks that give us all that delicious, delicious beer.

Then when we got back to the reasonable shore of the Lake (after crossing the longest bridge over water in the world!), through another circuitous connection, I ended up at one of my favorite bars with one of the owners, and drank for free until about 2:30 am.

It was one of the most glorious days of my entire life.

Sunday, March 29, 2009

Protest on a Saturday Afternoon

I’ve been told that Berlin averages two protests per day. During the winter I found this unbelievable, most only left their homes for the basic necessities. Now that the weather is turning the politically active are hitting the streets and many are predicting this to be the ‘summer of unrest’.

The demonstration this Saturday was to protest the handling of the financial crisis and capitalism in general “Wir zahlen nicht fur eure Krise” (We’re not paying for your crisis). All the big names in leftist politics and a few anarchist groups were in attendance. Winner of the “most grannies on the ground” award went to the German communist party Die Linke (The Left) and the Rosa Luxemburg Foundation. They’ve been gaining popularity in recent elections; conservatives and moderates are skittish as the primary leaders of Die Linke were party members in the oppressive East German regime.

And any protest or small demonstration in Germany isn’t complete without DA COPS.

They shined up the trucks.

And brought the new canine recruit.
The primary concern of the police was the anarchist group ARAB - Anti-fascist Revolutionary Action Berlin.After taking this picture the procession swept past me while a group of riot police closed in from my right. If things got hairy I was going to catch a baton to the dome.

Later the anarchists unfurled a banner from the roof of my neighboring apartment building and threw flares into the crowd. People were in good spirits and the riot police looked bored – a relatively uneventful but acceptable first protest of the season.
But, the real excitement happened after I left the demonstration to attend an ice-cream social (yes, truth). While I enjoyed dairy treats and chatted with other program participants host families, the anarchists stormed the plaza in front of the mayors office and mayhem ensued.


Video here.

Friday, March 27, 2009

hard drive

i have a pretty impressive supply of pictures that never really surfaced to the internet, mostly just sitting stagnant on a portable hard drive for a late night chuckle ever once in a while. Here are some of them:

Is this a good thing? I can stop with the photo dumps anytime

Tuesday, March 24, 2009


I saw something so cute on the way to school today I had to get off my bike to watch. My route to UNO is through City Park and along the bayou which is so nice in the mornings, if its possible for something to be nice about mornings. Anyway, a van had stopped in the middle of the road in the park and I was being hostile biker chick and thinking dear god why are people so incompetent and stop in my way. Just then, I see a mama duck followed by seven ducklings crossing the street. That alone was enough for me to start aaaww-ing. It only got cuter.

When they got to the curb, the mom jumped over and was quacking at her offspring to do the same. But they were too little and kept jumping and bumping up against the curb!! I got off my bike partially to watch and partially bc I really wanted to pick one up and love it to death, but they kept scampering away. Can't imagine why. Meanwhile, mom is still yelling at them as they bounce around and start to make it over one by one. The last one was a fatty and fell on its back and rolled around for a little bit before it finally got up there and they all waddled away together. When I turned around I realized a car had stopped to watch too and this old woman and I had a moment together. She was clapping and saying aww and I was throwing my hands in the air and yelling YAAY! I was so pumped the rest of my ride and it totally made my day.

Tuesday, March 17, 2009

dispatches from the sunshine state

I went to my Grandmother's funeral yesterday, it was my first open casket funeral and it did not bode well.

Before the funeral we went over to my Grandpa's house to meet the priest who was performing the service. He stood up to introduce himself to my family. We, not being the church-going type, were super uneasy with this real-life priest just cold shakin' our hands. When my brother introduced himself, the priest didn't catch his name and asked him again, "who are you?". My brother in a crazed panic responded, "God's son". Why would my brother tell a priest that he was Jesus Christ? I don't know, perhaps only God knows. Thus began our day.

At the service, I think the priest was drunk (more on this later). He kept announcing the pages that we were supposed to turn to in the prayer book incorrectly. So we would all be trying to follow along but were at a complete loss. No one really understood what was happening. At one point while the priest was reading a prayer from the book, my cousin, Billy, started reading aloud with him. In a booming voice over the priest. The priest stopped reading and waited for my cousin to finish the prayer, and then he finished it, louder. My mom and I could not stop giggling. Why ever would my cousin do that?

One of my cousins wore a halter mini-dress and heels to the funeral. What the fuck, right?

At the cemetery, while we were burying my Grandma, I was watching two of the funeral home workers who were standing off to the side. A giant bug landed on one of their shoulders. The man started freaking out and tried to swat it away, but he only swatted it onto his back. In panic, he turned around and asked the other man from the funeral home to get it off his back. He swatted it and it flew 20 feet straight towards my Grandpa. Everyone sitting in the back saw this happening, and once again everyone got giggly. It's just, how does that happen? My cousin was saying later that night, that man could have taken that shot 1,000 times and never once been quite so accurate to hit my Grandpa.

The reception was at a restaurant on the water. The priest came and ordered a ... SEX ON THE BEACH, confirming everyone's suspicion that he was drunk all along. Are they allowed to do that? To order Sex on the Beach? Last night Logan was said that it would be more appropriate if he ordered an Abstinence on the Beach. I prefer the Immaculate Conception on the Beach, though I imagine that would be a virgin drink.

After the restaurant we all went back to my Grandpa's house. It went really well until my troll of an aunt got a little tipsy on white wine and started picking fights with me. She told a lovely story about social workers, it went like this: "My friend decided she was going to be a social worker. 2 weeks into the program she was picked up in a van, and she thought she was going to be raped. She started kicking and screaming and got out of the van. She decided that she didn't want to help those people anymore and got a degree in nursing." Oh boy, where to begin on this. Well first what in the fuck does being abducted(?) have to do with getting your masters in social work. She implied that they were connected in some way, as if "those" people cruise the streets of Syracuse(!!) looking for young women earning their masters in social work and attempt to rape them. Now about the nursing degree. Her daughter (the aforementioned halter mini-dress cousin) is currently going to school for nursing. He daughter is the only other granddaughter so from birth my aunt has pitted us against each other. This was just another way for her to tell me that my plans were worthless and that her daughter was on the right track. I really tried not to let her get to me. Bust she is racist, classist, homophobic and holier than thou. Am I totally wrong to think that SHE was out of line when she stood up and pointed her finger in my face and yelled about "those people" never working a day in their lives? Like, that's not me right?

I don't know what the point of this post is. I guess I am feeling like we kind of fucked up my Grandma's funeral. I am not going to remember my Grandma by open caskets, drunken priests or catapulting bugs. But I don't want people (I don't know what people) to think that I was laughing out of disrespect. I don't want people to think we fucked up my Grandma's funeral because we didn't care. I guess I also wanted to bitch a bit about my aunt, who by the way has a serious mullet.

Saturday, March 14, 2009

im listening to drews sappy singer song writer suggestions

I think I am about to make a couple bigger decisions. I have been in Buenos Aires for over a month now sitting patiently for my classes to start. My spanish is improving though not good enough and I still have not eaten a steak (tomorrow looks to be my day) and two of my classes finally finally start this week. This nagging ugly question has been poking at me something to the tune of "why am I here?" I can make up some answers but by and large, I really do not know. To learn spanish, to travel, to be outside my element, to take classes... these are all pretty unimpressive answers to an increasingly important question. Tomorrow I should hear the response from Northeastern University with regards to deferring my inflated tuition payment to another semester. If they decline, then I will embark on a regiment of history classes in spanish even though I did not pass the entrance test to take a spanish language course. I have fallen into a retarded catch 22 where only "advanced" levels are allowed to take a language course while those below are only allowed direct exchange classes. Ie. classes for argentinians in... spanish.

So having fallen into this catch 22, I have been re-weighing my options. The new tentative plan is to travel and wwoof and grow facial hair and get the fuck out of all of these big cities. So far I have paid for my wwoof entrance fee and am awaiting my booklet o' organic farms seeking help. But to pursue and follow through with this much more romantic and exciting route, I turn my back on formal education for a little longer and more or less give up on the program that I still haven't started. And giving up sounds pretty bad sometimes.

Mostly these are just thoughts out loud and will be entirely silenced if Northeastern refuses tuition reimbursement in which case I commit to the classes regardless. Kicking and screaming or not. I hope not though. The romantic option certainly seems more appealing, right?

An Open Letter to Chairman Meow

Dear Mr. Meow,

No. No, go away. Why are you meowing at my leg, Shh. I am watching a spaghetti western. Whatever, I guess that since you are here, why not take a seat, not drool for once and answer my question:

Why did you have go and get yourself a Urinary Tract Infection.

Now I have to feed you wet cat food and take the extra step in not only refrigerating it but also properly sealing said can with Saran Wrap. Don’t you know that such a task is difficult? You weren’t really nice when I tried to give you your medicine either, you just snarled and made a noise I only thought a demon could produce. Speaking of your medicine, want to share some of those feline painkillers with me? It looks like heroin addicts live in this house with your empty syringes strewn about. How do you think the police will react when I tell them that they aren’t for me, but for my promiscuous kitty.

Where do you get off in pulling this complete shenanigan? That poor woman had to clean your pee off the floor at the Vet, in three places! I won’t count that 4th spot, because well that woman kind of molested you, for that I apologize. However, she did call you a “handsome man”. But that is exactly my point; handsome men don’t get UTI’s. I doubt Brad Pitt suffers from this, he was taught properly how to wipe and not to wear strangers underwear.


Logan Healy, Professional.


Did Kallen do this to you? That may explain why you peed in his shoe.

Friday, March 13, 2009

An Open Letter to my Parents

Dear Mom and Dad,
Hey, how's it going? I can't wait to see you in Tennesse in a couple of weekends. I think it will be really fun, especially when I get your other daughters wasted and they have to go back to the hotel drunk at 3 am. Livy will be 18 soon, which should be the drinking age anyway so it's totally fine.

The reason I'm writing is to thank you. I know, I know, this must come as a shock. Normally I criticize your parenting skills and we all know there are some things that could have been handled, um, differently. But today, I want to express my appreciation.

Thank you so much for never taking me to a dentist as a child and neglecting the health of my teeth. Because of this and the problems it has caused, next Friday a graduate student at LSU dental school is paying me $300 to fill two of my cavities for his board exam. This has enabled me to quit the hell that was working on Bourbon St. and look for decent jobs at adorable cafes and shi-shi restaurants. Also, $300 for a couple hours of free dental work is really just incredibly awesome. Because you raised me right, my teeth and time are apparently that valuable.

Say hello to everyone back home for me. Thanks again!


Apologies, sirs and madams

Ahoy hoy kiddies. I haven't been making many posts on here recently, but I have been updating my blog a bit (twice this week, huzzah!). But just so this doesn't totally smack of me being a self-indulgent cretin, here are some fun links to help you waste time at work!

Detroit's Beautiful, Horrible Decline

Big surprise: Chuck Norris is a moneygrubbing dickbag

I will tell you this, sir. I have indeed noticed the $.68, and that shit is not cool. You must think that I have a money tree growing in my back yard. I do not.

Point of order: this discussion belongs in the Qing Dynasty forum. We're adults; can we keep sight of what's important around here?

Lolz abound!

Sunday, March 8, 2009

Lactose Tolerance

My Saturday night:
Jack daniels and dairy is a wonderful combination. Unfortunately, my stomach doesn't agree and we're not on speaking terms today.

I saw Man on Wire this weekend, I recommend it to all sirandmadamsnotappearing, especially the francophones/philes.

In other news, the GOP is pulling talent from its Pop Warner leagues and a Russian scholar recently predicted the collapse of America - ruh row.

Wednesday, March 4, 2009

Why isn't it always Mardi Gras?

I want to wear my tutu or a mask or face paint every day. It's just not fair. I also want to drink strawberry Andre all day too since that is also acceptable during the glorious season that is Carnaval. But that's a different issue.

People of the world, Spice up your life!

Dear Daquiris,
Why are you amazing?