Kevin the Cat

This weekend I bought a copy of Elle UK. For one, my style icon MK Olsen was on the cover, but mainly because I lack self control in the magazine isle. (I entered Borders to buy a book and left with three magazines...and a book). While reading it, I forgot it was printed in the UK until every once in a while I came across funny terms and phrases like "high factor sunscreen, for a fair or Celtic complexion." or "bits" in place of just about any word or "quiff" instead of "coif". Suddenly everything I read was in a dead pan dryly witty British accent, and thus normal sentences became hilarious. America loves it, because we're narcissists who love our own culture and looking at Britain is like looking at a classier, wittier, vespa driving, castle dotted, more grammatically correct romanticized version of ourselves. British culture is like ours but it's not. It's foreign and yet familiar. It's like those "what's wrong with this picture" games. The pictures are exactly the same but in one donald duck has on a red sailor suit.

This is similar to the ongoing turf war between my cat Diana and her arch nemesis, Kevin. Diana and Kevin look nearly identical in that they are both completely black, except that Kevin ugly and Diana is cute. They hate each other so much that when Diana even thinks she sees him, she wails like a wounded yeti. For the longest time I thought she was just crazy for making these noises at her own reflection in the sliding glass door, until one day I was looking into her reflection and suddenly my eyes focused and it was her ugly twin Kevin! I screamed. It was like a horror movie camera trick where the reflection in the mirror suddenly turns from the naive heroine into Dracula, or Freddy Krueger or Chucky. Somehow it seems this is what happens when we encounter Britishness, for a minute we only see our reflection, but when our eyes focus in, we find it's actually Kevin the cat lurking behind the glass.

So I Wrecked the Volvo...

So...I wrecked the volvo. I was turning right and looking left and a rear ended a lady and her indestructible suburban (unfortunately the volvo was not so lucky). I've been known to dole out a harmless bumper kiss from time to time, so I was horrified when in my latest scuffle, the hood of my volvo was crushed like a discarded coke can (On the upside, i can now survey the inside of my car with out bothering to pop the hood). Now my engine and carburetor can ride with the wind in their hair. The front half of the volvo is a metal teepee. The worst part was driving the ghettomobile around for a week. It ran just fine, but it looked well, like a car wreck and everyone in the city of Columbus had the chance to rubberneck without the traffic implications. You're welcome. Anyway another plus side is that a rental is covered by my insurance. Little did I know when Jeff the recent college grad led me to my vehicle it would be a 2009 chevrolet with XM radio. Aw yeah...

I love latinos and...boots of course

As some of you know, I work in customer service. At times it is trying to deal with angry customers, but the sunshine in my sometimes gloomy work day is the hispanic population I encounter. I don't know what it is about America, but somehow we just don't spread the love like the Latinos do. (Myself included, I'm not latino, though sort of...ish...). After one frustrating exchange today, to my surprise the spanish speaker I was helping was overcome with gratitude after my attempts to answer his questions. "Gracias,! Gracias mi amor! You've done a wonderful job! Blessings on you and all your family!". I really think it is a latino thing, to be able to spout angry rantings one minute and heartfelt appreciation the next. I love it. Muy Amable! Muy Amable! They always end calls this way, regardless of what was said. While many english speakers will barely mutter a disgruntled thank you.

In other news, my boot obsession lives on. I think obsession may be too soft a word for the crazed hunger that drives me to scour stores and websites relentlessly. I wonder if there is some kind of treatment for bootmania. I feel that might include excessive calf excercises that would make it impossible to fit into a boot. I realize it's getting out of hand but I justify it by telling myself I'm the Brangelina of boots and I'm saving the world by adopting a pair in every color. I found another pair on Etsy, and although they serve a different function than dream boots I & II, they trump both in all ways. I can't even begin to express it, let me start by thanking 1982 for saving the ideal pair of boots for me. These not only rank highly in aesthetics but in function! They're fleece lined, with rubber soles! So basically they're perfect for hiking the Andes (with my hispanic amigos), traipsing from the metro stop to my flat in soho (or really from denney hall to the institute building), and dancing the napoleon dynamite dance with my sweatpants tucked into them (which I actually did early this evening-to test them for quality of course). So while there are many things for which I thank the 80s, at present I am most thankful for my newest boots. Hopefully my appetite is satisfied for now.

The Elusive Striped Tee

Why is is so hard to find the perfect black and white nautical tee, I ask you? Why? This seemingly ubiquitous item is sold by every retailer at every price point from target to jcrew, yet is impossible to find. You see these everywhere. On everyone from french waifs, Kurt Cobain, sailors, pirates, waldo (my red and white stripe tee has gotten me lots of waldo comments, arg), mimes and pretty much any hollywood hipster (including but not limited to the Olsen twins). Is everyone part of some exclusive black and white tee club that I am not aware of? Apparently so. This one from ebay fits the bill only it looks a little bit big, and with ebay there's no gurantees I'll win.

Chinese Boot Ghosts

The highlight of my week was coming home from Sacramento to find a tiny package sent to me from Shanghai, China. I had been wondering when the international olympic committee was going to get wise to the mix up in Beijing and send me my golds already, but instead of bling, I opened my teensy package to find what appeared to be the little plastic bootshapers I had ordered on ebay! After my lengthy boot saga I couldn't bear the thought of ruining my dream boots parts I and II with closet crumple-age. The bootshapers are like little boot ghosts. They're small and white and inhabit the body of the boot keeping them alive, not to mention they can walk through walls, and make erie noises at night. oooo. Your boots can now maintain their shape. ooooo

The Incompetent Ninja

I I had a dream the other night which I feel the need to blog about. I was a ninja at ninja training camp, and the other ninjas viewed me as the incompetent ninja, ala Chris Farley in Beverly Hills ninja. For our training we were basically supposed to play hide-and-seek, only the person who was "it" was an evil ninja and even though it was "training" the evil ninja had full liscence to kill. In  the first hallway, there, poised on the wall was Crazy Bad Ninja. I'm yelling and trying to kung fu him but no sound is coming out of my mouth, and my movements are all in slow motion.

This happens often in my dreams. Whenever action is needed, I am completely ineffective. My muscles are jelly and it takes all of my energy just to fling one spaghetti-armed punch. This always happens at the crucial moment. Sometimes I have flying dreams. This sounds like fun right? Wrong. In my most recent flying dream I was being chased by a band of angry treasure trolls while I attempted to lift myself and my little brother off the ground yet I was only able to get off the ground a few feet before falling to the earth again, making what looked like a giant hopping super mario type jump. It's very frustrating. I've determined that these dreams have taught me a)I am an ineffective ninja and should find another life dream and b)Never cross a treasure troll.

Baby its cold!...inside..or; Blogging makes it better

I seriously think I'm developing a head cold. Why? It's the middle of summer and the weather has been sunny and warm. I blame the hyperactive AC in my basement apartment and at the office where I work. Everyone seems to do this, and I just can't understand thermostat logic. People complain about the cold weather all winter long and then when the sun decides to warm us with it's glorious rays, we crank up the air so cold that my nose goes numb and I'm rubbing my hands together to stay warm (literally, as we speak). It's kind of humorous. Not to mention the schizophrenic dressing. Sweater on sweater off? Pants or shorts? Parka or cardigan? Don't even bother to check the weather, because no matter how warm and balmy it is outside you can be assured that every grocery store, movie theatre, school, establishment of business will be at least 10 degrees below what's comfortable. Why the obsession with coldness in America? It even trickles into our beverage preferences. In Europe if you ask for ice in your drink, they'll look at you with disgust/confusion and come back with two cubes on a plate an hour and a half later since they had to scale The Alps to locate some for you. I'm telling you, America is obsessed with ice. On a side note, life has been kind of rough lately. Poor me, I live in a middle class suburb, with a nice family and a generally happy life. Boo hoo. Last week we moved out of our house into an apartment, which is a HUGE mess as of now, since neither Cristina or I are ever home to clean it. We don't have a couch and there are boxes all over the place. Fortunately I tackled my 3 ft by 4 ft mountain of clothes (oy) so there is now room to walk. During moving week, it was also my finals week, and on top of that I was working overtime at work. (Almost 40 hours!). Additionally, a few unexpected emotional crises arose which made it almost too much to handle. Sometimes it seems like if life throws one more punch, you're gonna be K.O.ed. But this morning I was persusing some of my favorite blogs and reading about the joys and sorrows described in said blogs, and it brings to light the most obvious realization. Life is a series of ups and downs and even though this week everything bites and you can hardly keep it together, maybe next month will be full of awesome amazing events! In reading blogs you can really get a sense of this sequence of highs and lows, and since most people aren't daily bloggers, it's easy to see since the time span is so abbreviated. So in summary: I heart blogs.