Europe's the mayonnaise, but America supplies the good old lobster. ~ David Herbert Lawrence
You may remember that this summer I had big plans for Europe. I don't think anyone in their right mind would try to squeeze as much into a few days as I did - but I am in my right mind so maybe they would after all. (And maybe no one in their right mind would ever forget about the bottles flowing wine as you cross the Atlantic, but I did. I guess since I couldn't partake the last time I took a plane ride that long, it didn't resonate with me. Well, you can bet your bottom dollar I partook this time around.)
In Munich, I really did ride a beach cruiser in between bier gardens and nude beaches. The nude beaches were fun but they were even more fun once I had a giant bier in me and decided I should try to get close to check out the goods on display. We discovered a raging river where crazy Germans go to surf. I wanted to participate, but that was before I realized how crazy these Germans really were. Not only was it freezing, but the bottom of the river was a cement block!
Side note: don't be fooled by the picture people...I was a good sport and drank a bier, but I didn't really enjoy it. I was just passing the time until I could get to Venice and drank some wine!
Venice was everything I had imagined. I was reading a wonderful novel my mom had picked up at the Sam's Club (yes) called The Glassblower of Murano and it made Venice that much more exciting to see the places I had read about in this book. We took a water taxi from the airport into Venice and I am so glad we did. The vaporetto (public water transport) was fine to go to Lido but the 30 minute ride from the airport was perfect in the back of a chartered boat. I don't even know how to describe Venice except to say it was a dream come true. I immediately started looking for jobs in Venice (but let's be serious. I don't want to be an au pair at the ripe old age of 30, and that's basically what is available). Venice is a walking town, once you're there of course. And I can honestly say there isn't a cobblestone street in Venice I have not been on. I ate the most delicious food, drank delicious Venetian wine and took in the Venetian sunsets every night. I soaked up Venetian life at outdoor cafes and I do not believe there is anywhere more suited for me than that place. I visited the beach at Lido (which was OK but it's a public beach full of smelly Italians and the sand was really hot.), I rode the vaporetto to Burano where I found all of my future houses and saw little old ladies making lace. Then I hopped over to Murano and saw real live glass blowing and ate way too much gelato. And before I knew it, it was time to move on to my next spot and I had to bid farewell to Venice. Call me a whiney baby, but I may or may not have pitched a bit of a fit and cried a little as I left.
Next up: Salzburg, Austria for four hours of Sound of Music bliss. After arriving much later than I had planned (queue anxiety) and covering much more ground than I knew existed in Salzburg, seeing Mozart's birthplace and discussing salts with a local salt dealer, it was time for one of the things I had been most looking forward to. A four hour bus ride to the locations of the most famous Sound of Music scenes. I had two favorite parts about this. Okay, three really.
1. the sing a long. They seriously played the sound track in between stops and everyone on the bus sang along. Whomever it was that created this tour knew that generally speaking, most Americans love a good sing a long.
2. The bus driver was named Ferdinand and he loved Arnold Schwarzenegger so much that he had a cut out of his face that he had taped over Freuline Maria's face on the side of the bus. I asked him if it was similar to the Germans love for David Hasselhoff and he said it was just like that, only better.
3. We stopped at the church where Maria and the Captain were married and I walked some of the aisle. I also picked up a bottle of holy water.
If you ever get a chance to go to Salzburg, you should. And you should spend four days there instead of four hours - the Lake District is some of the most beautiful country I have ever seen. And you should definitely do the Sound of Music tour. And you should probably plan in advance to do the sing a long. Brushing up on some tunes never hurt anyone.
After that, it was back to Deutschland for one more day and then I was off, back to America and back to scheming up ways to get me back to Europe sooner rather than later. I've always thought I would make a good European and now I am convinced I would. Barbara isn't necessarily an urban dog but I feel like the two of us would do well as Venetians with a summer cottage in Austria.
I've said it before and I will proclaim it again. My life is like an episode of Seinfeld. I encounter the craziest people and find myself in the strangest situations. Most days I wonder things such as "how the hell did I end up here?" or "what the shit are they doing?"
Case in point.
About a month ago, I sent a certain someone the following email:
do not call me anymore. you are a game player and i am not interested in
playing your games. you and i are not friends and we will never be
Yesterday, I received the following response:
if we are not friends, lets declare war! we could have a water gun fight or something. even if you want to spit at me the whole time. Eat pizza and be merry?
The whole basis for this was due in part to a free pizza that had been won by one or both of us. The more and more I read this, the more I think to myself "what the SHIT is he thinking?" I will say that this is just really a shame. I really wanted that pizza.
A couple of weekends ago, Barbara and I decided to go to Hickory to visit Eli and Glenda. Eli had recently purchased some new furniture for her apartment, and I wanted to offer my decorating advice (note: it was not taken). I will say that a sign of someone who probably should take decorating advice is a failed Pinterest project. Eli had a picture frame hanging on her wall with no glass in it (see Exhibit A below). When I asked her what was going on with the frame on her wall, she responded "oh, that's just my failed Pinterest project." "So, you just left it there?" I asked. "Yep." Was all she said. (Of course, this came from the same girl who, when I lamented several times about the pile of trash on her floor, she just said "i know man" so I'm not really sure why leaving a failed Pinterest project hanging on the wall really surprised me).
At any rate, this failed Pinterest project was all well and good until Barbara ran into the glass pane that was leaning up against the wall. We didn't even know she was hurt. She didn't cry or scream or anything. She just started rubbing her head on the carpet like she does when she smells something delicious. Next thing I know, there was blood everywhere and we are on our way to the 911 Vet. Thank goodness there even was a 911 Vet in Hickory. Granted, based on the looks of some of the clientele in there, I'm pretty sure they were more accustomed to wildlife patients than sweet, 6.5 lbs domestic patients.
They delivered the bad news that Barbara would have to stay overnight for stitching. The anesthesia would take several hours to wear off, and she would have to stay until it was out of her system, so it was best to leave her overnight. I was a strong mama and held it together while I forked over my right arm as a deposit. The next morning, we picked her up and I lost it. She looked terrible. Not to mention she couldn't close her eye because the stitching was so tight. Although it was obvious I was a mess, I gave them my other arm, and we were off. I tell you what. I should have been a 911 Vet. They didn't even do it right (obviously) and still got a payday!
The lampshade was the worst part. And in usual Barbara fashion, she let me know she did NOT appreciate it one bit. I mean, lezzbehonest. Have you ever tried eating pimento cheese out of the bowl with a lampshade on your head?? As soon as we got back to Raleigh (which was soon because I needed to get back to making some lettuce after that adventure), I took her to her vet who said she would need to restitch my little girl so she would be able to close her eye and the scar would heal better. Since I clearly didn't have any arms to give over, I offered her my first born and we were back in business. She restitched her and I was able to pick her up later that day (so...6.5lbs under anesthesia twice in three days...makes for an interesting child to say the least!). Thank goodness I have a good doctor because she took her time with Barbara and we finally started returning to normal. After two full weeks of being loser lampshade lenny, Barbara was able to return to life as a normal human baby, sniffing and eating and wallering in all the places she shouldn't. She even had her first bath since the accident and enjoyed drying her bod off on my fresh pile of clean clothes.
i would like to say thank you for all the calls, facebook posts, tweets and well wishes to Barbara for a speedy recovery. We are both doing much better. The doc assured me this was much harder on me than it was on her. All I know is there is no way I can have real children. This was much too traumatizing (sorry fellas). And a word to the wise: don't buy stock in Pinterest (or Eli's Crafts) any time soon. You may end up spending much more than you anticipated!!
You know what's awkward? When your brother
calls you because he's having lunch with your ex boyfriend and he asks
if you want to talk to him. You say no and he puts him on the phone
anyway. And all you can think of to say is: well I haven't talked to you
on the phone since I was 16.
It's been awhile since I've had a weekend where things have just been kinda weird. Well not anymore because my friends, let me tell you why I'm pretty sure my weekend was weirder than yours. In no specific order.
1. i had a hott date (enough said)
2. a friend of mine had hired a man from Craigslist (yes. the words "hired a man from craigslist" should make you think immediately of the craigslist killer) to come pick up her dryer. Upon hearing this, and finding it sketch, I said I would go sit with her. Only by the time he didn't show, we were over it, so we drug the dryer outside on our own.
3. we saw him pulling into the neighborhood as we high tailed it out of there. pretty sure we avoided a machete murder.
4. in order to get past the machete murder we had surely just missed, we decided to get a drink at this random bar near the mall. they were playing sex ed trivia. we didn't play.
5. we should have played because we got every answer right.
6. we determined it was a good thing we hadn't died at the hands of the dryer man because we were clearly going to start playing trivia from here on out.
7. at one point during my hot date, my hot date went to the bathroom. a strange (and possibly drunken) man sat down at my table and wanted to know if I was alone. Well no, I told him. (let's not mention the fact that this was a fancy schmancy restaurant and a Sat night...even I know better than to dine alone in public under those conditions). He said to let my date know he was going to punch him in the throat.
8. When my date returned, I let him know to beware, he might get punched in the throat.
9. The maybe drunken man reappeared, fist bumped the black couple next to us, and then asked my date if they could talk. In the end, we all decided to be friends.
10. Another couple walked by and the man leaned down to me and said "don't flatter yourself sweetie."
11. Because I'm deaf in one ear and wasn't sure I had heard him correctly, I asked him to repeat himself. "DON'T FLATTER YOURSELF SWEETIE" he bellowed.
12. my date and I discussed what that possibly meant and whether or not alligators are fast running out of the water towards their prey.
13. the vet lamented she wished barbara could gain some weight, then surmised that "she's just that skinny bitch who can eat a cheeseburger and not gain an ounce."
and there you have it. weird weekends with deezy: 101
an extra large glass of wine and three cheers to me. i'm pretty sure the bartenders at the Marriott Bar in downtown Raleigh thought I was a prostitute this week. Lezzzbehonest. Who but a prostitute would have a night cap at a hotel bar with a married man (and sometimes multiple married men) for three nights in a row? Plus, if the wave of exhaustion that seemed to come upon me every night once we got to the hotel bar is any indication of what kind of prostitute I would be, then I should probably not ever try my hand at that. I would be the sleepiest prostitute in the world and you definitely would not get your money's worth. So I guess that means I shouldn't try to be a rockstar either. After partying like one all week, I feel insane.
dammit. i suppose I will just keep on being a paralegal.