A-musings

For the Kids

2012-01-20T13:47:00.002-05:00

A couple months ago, I visited my friend Lex's fifth grade writing class, which was really fun. Even more fun was writing a personal narrative to read to them. Their attentive listening and enthusiastic questions and comments made me think that I should maybe share the piece here. It's a true story, recalled to the best of my memory's ability.

The Great Doughnut Caper

I’ve always been kind of fat. It’s just been part of my life since about third grade. And it was a big part of my life. I got teased in school. A neighbor called me “Ali the fat cat.” I hated shopping for clothes because it always ended with me locked in a dressing room with my mom, crying because nothing fit or looked the way it should. I always thought that if I were skinnier that boys would like me- that everyone would like me. But even though I thought being skinny might make people like me better, which I wanted, I still wanted candy and cake and ice cream more.

Anyway, since being fat was a big part of my life, trying to get not-fat had to be a part of it too. When I was in fourth grade I was on a swim team so that I could get exercise all year long. It probably would have worked, too, if I didn’t hide peanut butter cups under my pillow to eat after I went to bed. Or if I didn’t keep M&M’s and Snickers bars stashed in a safe under my bed.

So here I was, a chubby ten-year-old, swimming during the day and stuffing chocolate in my face while the rest of my family slept. Then one day, my mom asked me to get a bag of frozen green beans out of the extra freezer we kept in our garage. While I was hunting for them, I saw it. A box of mini white powdered doughnuts. The jackpot. As soon as I saw them I knew they had to be mine. I grabbed the green beans and shut the door, but in my mind I could see the box of white gold, each little doughnut its own treasure of sweetness. One of them might even have winked at me.

I started planning how to make the doughnuts mine and mine alone. I waited a few days to see if they moved or got taken out of the freezer, but it seemed like everyone had forgotten about them; everyone but me. I decided to do it on a night I had swim practice. I left the gym bag I used to carry all my swimming gear, a towel and goggles and stuff, in the car. I waited until my mom was distracted with making dinner and then told her I’d forgotten my swim bag in the car and had to go get it. I tiptoed out to the garage (even though I’d just told my mom I was going there) and got the bag out of the backseat. Then, quick like a cat, I darted over to the freezer, opened it with one hand while the other grabbed the box and shoved it in my bag, covering it with my damp towel. I gingerly shut the freezer door, zipped up the gym bag and ran all the way up to my room, my heart pounding in my ears. I stuffed the bag into the corner between my bed and the closet and went back downstairs, giddy at the thought of the sugary feast that would be waiting for me when I went to bed that night.

Later, after I’d eaten dinner (and dessert) and gotten ready for bed, I said goodnight to my parents and skipped off to my room. I shared a room with my little sister, Jackie, so I had to wait for her to fall asleep. This usually took a while, since she stayed up late talking to her imaginary friends, Maggie and Elizabeth. Once they had finally figured out all the details of Elizabeth’s upcoming birthday party she drifted off to sleep and I was in the clear.

I slid off my bed onto the floor, pulled out the bag and unzipped it. It never crossed my mind how ironic it was that I was storing secret junk food in the bag used to carry around the stuff to help me exercise. I opened the box and plucked out a doughnut, popping it into my mouth. It was still a little frozen, but that didn’t stop me from eating a few more. Satisfied, I closed the box, zipped it back into the gym bag and climbed into bed, licking powdered sugar from my fingers. The next two nights I was again sitting wedged between my bed and closet, treating myself to a few mini doughnuts while my sister slept. On the third night, though, I almost got caught. There I was, munching away, when my mom opened the door to put some laundry on the dresser. I froze in mid-chew, my hand halfway to my mouth. Luckily, she slipped in and out of the room quickly and didn’t notice that I wasn’t in my bed. I didn’t get caught, but it was too close for comfort. The doughnuts had to go.

The next morning, while I was getting ready for school, I crushed the doughnut box and hid it in my backpack. I left for school and walked long enough that I knew my mom would have gone back inside the house, away from any windows that faced the street. I then doubled back the way I came and ducked into a tiny wooded area in between the two houses across the street from us. I crouched down to the ground, licking my lips and looking around to make sure no one was there to witness my crime. I’m still not sure if, in my mind, the crime was having stolen the doughnuts, or the fact that I was wasting perfectly good ones. I took the box out of my backpack. By now there were only a handful of doughnuts left. I took one last white powdered little circle out of the box and took a bite, savoring the way the sugar melted on my tongue. Then I closed the box and buried it under a pile of leaves. I stood up, put my backpack on my shoulder, took one last look at the doughnut grave and turned and walked away toward school, feeling lighter than I had in days.

Woof

2012-01-13T21:13:00.003-05:00

I swear I don't have a fascination with the backs of cars. But now that I'm looking out for vanity license plates, I can't help but notice the other pieces of flair people use to express themselves via the rear of their vehicle.

I was behind a Honda CR-V the other day with a bumper sticker that said:

"My Yorkie is smarter than your honor student."

I've never seen one of these before; I've seen the ones talking about how terrific a driver's dogs or "grand-dogs" are; I've noticed the stickers that let you know that a driver's kid beat up the presumed honor student of the person driving behind them. I had never seen one that combined the two, claiming that a dog was smarter than an honor student.

I have to imagine that there is a complimentary sticker out there that reads:

"My honor student has more friends than most Yorkie owners."*

*No offense meant to any Yorkie or other dog owners who may read this.

Shut Up and Drive

2012-01-10T10:57:00.007-05:00

Though you wouldn't know it from my blog posts, I've been steadily collecting and receiving pictures of vanity plates from around the tri-state area. I just haven't been getting around to posting them here.

However, I'm wondering if it is really safe for me to continue with the project after capturing the plates I got last week. It's one thing to walk past a funny plate and snap a picture, or to get one while being a passenger in a moving vehicle. It is another thing entirely to try acting as the driver, photographer and art director all at the same time.

Last week, while driving around Sussex County for work, I found myself behind a car with a license plate that read "No Yes." Of course I needed a picture so I got out my phone (while driving), set it to take a picture (while driving), caught up to the car, missed my exit and this is the photo I got:

Yeah, I can't see it either. Not really worth the 15 minute detour it caused.

Then on Friday, I was driving down 287 toward Philly and spotted another license plate that I had to have. Again I took out my phone (while driving), set it to take pictures (while driving), then set it for low light conditions (while driving) and then tried to get in a good position to get the shot. I have to believe the person driving this car figured out that I was after her because she became really hard to catch. It became a high-speed chase, with me weaving in and out of traffic, one hand on the wheel, one hand holding my phone out in front of my like a cop with a radar (thank God there weren't any of those out for real right then). I ended up getting four pictures from four different angles and this was the best one:

Completely blurry. The license plate said "SPCKLES." So not only is it frustrating that I couldn't get a good shot, but that I'll never know what it's supposed to mean. Is it Speckles? South Pickles? A misspelling of Sprinkles or Sparkles? I will never know why the owner of the plate didn't forgo the 'C' or 'K' in favor of a vowel that would have made the meaning clear.

At any rate, I've decided that the poor, blurry photographs I get when taking them myself (while driving) are not worth the danger they pose for me to get them. I will still collect pictures of funny license plates, but when I'm driving, I'm just going to drive (and sing).

It Goes Right to My Gut

2011-12-29T21:21:00.002-05:00

Wednesday marked the real end to Christmas. After Christmas Eve and Christmas Day get-togethers with my family and John's, we did the extended Greco family Christmas dinner yesterday. As expected, a week of festivities included a lot of treats and though I tried to be pretty good, I did indulge in some delicious desserts.

Last night, after we got home from my parents' house I went to change into pajamas. I happened to look down and spot some sort of mark on my stomach. It was a brownish spot roughly the size and shape of a dried apricot right above my belly button. It looked some kind of bruise and really freaked me out. I had no idea what it could be or how it had gotten there; did I not remember walking into something, belly first? Was it a sign of a tape worm? A misplaced stigmata?

I went over to John in the other room and showed him. "What the hell is that?" he asked. He seemed disturbed by it too, which only fueled my fear. But I touched it and it didn't hurt. Then I touched it again and realized that it smeared.

"Wait a second," I said, and went into the bathroom. I dampened a paper towel and rubbed it across the mark. It came off. I smelled it.

Chocolate.

Yup, a significant piece of chocolate fell down my shirt and melted against my belly and I had no idea.

Merry Christmas.

You Better Watch Out

2011-12-18T20:41:00.003-05:00

In a preview to becoming Mrs.Gogarty, I got to spend a couple days as Mrs. Claus to John's Santa this weekend.

John has dressed up as Santa for years to visit the kids of friends and family. We got down to the wire on getting my costume but Party City came through on Thursday night.

We suited up on Saturday morning, I tried to put eye make-up on John, but he wasn't having it, and we were on our way.

Driving around Morristown as Santa and Mrs. Claus in an Audi convertible with the top down might be one of the most fun experiences ever. We'd honk as we passed kids on the street and waved when we'd hear grown men yell "SANTA!!!" from across the street.

We wound our way around New Jersey and Pennsylvania, delighting and terrifying children of various ages and reveling in Christmas cheer. One of my favorite parts may have been the way parents could laugh at how completely horrified their children were of Santa, giggling and taking pictures while the kids screamed and reached for them- I can't wait for the kids to look back on those pictures one day and know the parents did the right thing.

Being Mrs. Claus was so much fun, I can't imagine how great being Mrs. Gogarty is going to be.

VNTYPLTS: A Photo Series, Part III SUPR STR

2011-10-22T14:05:00.004-04:00

I don't even think I have to say anything about this one. This was spotted on the way into the Lincoln Tunnel heading home from NYC. I'm assuming this driver was also heading home to Jersey after a day of singing/dancing/elocution/acting/modeling lessons.

VNTYPLTS: A Photo Series, Part II Plate Bragging

2011-09-23T12:18:00.006-04:00

We live in a time where "putting yourself out there" is the go-to advice for getting what you want, be it a job, relationship or recognition of any kind. There are plenty of ways to do this, many of them now involving technology of some kind. Blogging, tweeting, online dating, Facebook, etc. However, I would never have thought of a license plate as a method of attracting a new mate, a new boss or new friends. Some people, apparently, do.

Let's take a look at some plates that seem to have been designed with the intention of attracting a certain type of attention from a certain audience (an audience that is even more specific than people who are driving behind you). I'll do my best to posit guesses as to the scenario these drivers were hoping to experience through their vanity plates:

Pretty1 wants the world of single, male, Pennsylvania drivers to know that she's got the goods. When she ordered this plate, I think she had dreams of getting a flat tire, pulling over to the side of the road, hoping a chivalrous man would come to her rescue. She knows the deal though, people aren't going to stop for just anyone, lest it be an axe murderer waiting to strike. BUT, what if you advertised ON your car that you aren't threatening at all, in fact, you're pretty! Enter tall, dark and handsome guy to the rescue, complete with a tire jack and perfectly trimmed five o'clock shadow. He wasn't going to stop, but then he looked at the back of the car and saw that the driver is a pretty one, so he pulled his shiny new luxury SUV over and got out to save the day. The rest is history (that's how they'll end it when they tell the story at their engagement party).

HRD WRKR isn't messing around. HRD WRKR EARNED that car. The fact that she's actually a part time children's party planner doesn't mean she doesn't work just as hard as everyone else. She knows that one day she'll be walking through the Party City parking lot and someone will stop her and say, "Wait, is that your car? You know, I've been looking for a hrd wrkr. I'd like to pay you a lot of money to do whatever it is you love, at your own pace, on your own schedule. What do you say?"

Oh SNGL QT. How I envy your confidence. This is a girl who wears a seat belt mostly because she is so sure that she is going to get rear ended on purpose just so a guy can get her contact information. However, I'm willing to bet that plate was ordered fifteen pounds and a few crow's feet ago. That won't stop her, though. Get after it, girl.

VNTYPLTS: A Photo Series, Part I

2011-09-20T21:19:00.006-04:00

A few months ago, for reasons I don't quite understand, I started taking notice of vanity license plates. Once I started, I couldn't stop, like when you learn a new word and suddenly hear and read it everywhere. The clusters of letters that were meant to provide an outlet for personal expression, just above a dirty exhaust pipe, started jumping out at me. With total disregard for my safety and the safety of my fellow drivers, as well as disregard for the risk that someone might notice and punch me in the face, I started taking pictures of these license plates with my phone, usually when stopped at a red light behind one of them.

I would get so excited about finding a really juicy one (for me that usually means one you have to say out loud or have to think about a little to understand, like H2OSKII), that others started snapping pics of vanity plates they saw on the road.

I think what fascinates me most about them is wondering who the people are that go out of their way to get a license plate with a special message on it, and what their license plate says about them. With that in mind, I decided to do a photo blog post series with these license plates and my profile of the person driving the car based on their choice of vanity plate phrase.

To kick things off we have:

Photo courtesy of Jackie Greco

Who is Ruf-Ryda?

Caucasian male, early twenties, 5'11", approximately 135lbs, dirty blond hair, often covered with a doo rag, blasts gangsta rap with the windows down when driving with friends, plays Hootie and the Blowfish's Greatest Hits when riding solo.

I'll Marry The Shit Out of You: An Engagement Story

2011-08-02T21:03:00.006-04:00

Now that a date is set (May 12, yes, THIS COMING May) and it's really sunken in, I think it's time to tell the story of our engagement.

John and I both took an extra day off for a nice, long fourth of July weekend. He spent the first half with his family and then came down to Sea Isle for Sunday through Tuesday.

I called him on Saturday afternoon and he answered with "Hey there..." I was immediately suspicious of this atypical greeting and the conversation that followed a little strained. After hanging up, I told my dad, "Something's going on, something's up."

"Why?" my dad asked.

"John said 'hey there,' when he answered the phone," I told him.

"Oh, God, this is bad, what are you gonna do?" my dad replied before rolling his eyes and going back to his book.

I found out a few days later that in fact John had been in the middle of telling his family about his plan to propose when I called. I felt somewhat vindicated in my reaction to the "hey there" and will forevermore think something is cooking if I get that greeting.

The next day, John came down and we had a normal day at the beach and night hanging out at the house with my family. On Monday, John asked if we could go for a ride around the surrounding towns so he could see some of the places he visited as a kid. We drove around Avalon and Stone Harbour and I asked him what they'd looked like in the seventies. I believe his answer was "go scratch."

As we drove through Sea Isle, I pointed out the church I'd always wanted to get married in. He pulled over and we jaywalked over and went up the steps to try the doors. The church was locked, apparently praying on federal holidays is frowned upon. That didn't stop me from pretending to walk out of the doors holding a bouquet above my head. John grabbed my wrist like a referee proclaiming a boxer victorious after a knock-out. I imagined how great it would be to do that for real- walk out of the church with John I mean, not knock someone out, although that would be pretty cool too.

The rest of the day was normal, we had dinner with my family and then John suggested we go down to the beach early to claim a spot to watch the fireworks. I thought nothing of it, especially since one-on-one time can be tough to come by at the beach house. We went down and started smoothing out a blanket in the sand. As I learned later, John had planned to propose right then, but a family with a bunch of "rotten kids" set up next to us and ruined the moment. I, however, was completely unaware of any sort of moment, I was just trying to anchor the corners with flip flops.

Our spot established, John walked down to the water and I followed. I stopped short of where he was because if my feet got wet then the sand would stick to them, and I just wasn't in the mood for that. I told him so, not realizing his plans were once again being thwarted. He came up to where I was and, apparently was about to go down on one knee when I turned my head and saw my family and, in John's word, started waving my arms like a chimpanzee to direct them to our blanket. I started back up the beach, leaving him with his hand in his pocket, toying with a green velvet box wondering when he'd ever be able to get rid of it.

John joined us on the blanket and we settled in for the fireworks. The Sea Isle fireworks seemed to have been set off in reverse, kicking off with a fantastic, grand finale-like display and getting progressively less impressive. This made it hard to tell if and when they were ending. We lingered, watching the amateur fireworks being set off by individuals on the beach and looking to see if neighboring towns still had some firepower left. Eventually, my dad said he'd seen enough and was going back to the house. My sister and her boyfriend agreed and they all left. My mom, however, hates to miss any sort of pyrotechnic display. We once stood in a Target parking lot for a solid 20 minutes watching a smoking car. She finally realized it wasn't going to burst into flames and walked dejectedly back to our car.

She stood in the sand, turning back and forth to try to catch the best that both the north and south had to offer. Things were starting to slow down, but she just strained her eyes to try to see further. I, on the other hand, was ready to get going as I was getting eaten alive by mosquitoes. I told John and he said he just wanted five more minutes of fireworks and then, I imagine, stared my mom down, hoping to telepathically tell her to give up and go home.

The message was not going through.

She was too busy searching out any remaining spark. "I think there are some more a few blocks down."

"No, Mom, I'm pretty sure that's someone trying to light a cigarette a few yards away."

"Oh, well, it's still pretty."

Finally, after I again complained of mosquito bites, my mom looked down at us said she figured she'd go back.

"Yeah, we'll meet you up there in a few minutes," John told her.

He looked over his shoulder a few moments later, as he planned to get to his knee and saw her there, lingering on the path over the dunes, gazing skyward, zippo flames reflecting in her eyes and he waited a few minutes longer.

"John I really have to go, I have bites all over my legs," I told him.

"Alright, I can take a hint, let's go."

I stood up and John turned onto his hands and knees to gather up the blanket, then just stayed there on his knees. I looked at him with a "let's go, guy!" look and started to walk past him to get my flip flops. He caught my hand and as I looked back, he said "well, since I'm already on one knee..."

I looked and he was, in fact, on one knee. However, sinc John has a long running and well-documented reputation for jokes, pranks and all around teasing, I replied with a very romantic "shut up." Then I saw that he was reaching into his pocket.

I had a basic idea of what the girl is supposed to do when the man she loves gets down on one knee and produces a ring, but when it actually happened to me, it didn't even cross my mind to give him my left hand, cover my mouth with my right and weep prettily; I'm not even sure weeping prettily is something I'm capable of.

Before he could even finish what he was saying, I leaned over, threw my arms around him and buried my face in his neck saying "Really?! For real? Seriously? Right now? This is really happening right now?!?!"

"You have to let me say it, give me your little hand," he told me.

"Oh right, ok, here, umm ok, ahhh."

"Will you marry me?"

"YES, Yes yes yes yes!!!!" I collapsed back into the face-in-neck position.

We both stood up and hugged for a long time.

"You mean it?" he asked. "You'll really marry me?"

"I'll marry the shit out of you," I answered.

And I will.

Deep Thoughts

2011-06-25T11:54:00.002-04:00

You know your life is great when the first words you hear when you wake up in the morning are "I love you."

It's A Boy!

2011-06-15T21:28:00.004-04:00

After what seemed like a flash to me but I'm sure a long road to my sister in law, I now have a nephew!

Little Samuel Thomas was born on June 14 at 6:06pm after 24 hours of labor. Though there was a long build up, I still managed to be late. I left work just as they were taking Christine in for a C-section, but between a stop at a florist, that was, of course, closed and traffic, the big announcement had already happened by the time I arrived.

I wanted to be surprised, though, and hear it from Matt whether the baby was a boy or a girl. Andrew met me in the lobby of the hospital and went into the little shop with me so I could get flowers. I picked out an arrangement and when I brought it to the counter, I asked if I could add a balloon. The lady asked if the baby was a boy or a girl. I told her I didn't know yet. The other employee started sifting through the balloon selection. "I don't know if we have any ambidextrous ones," she called over her shoulder. "They all either say boy or girl."

Andrew and I looked at each other and had to immediately look away to make sure we didn't burst into giggles. I said we could skip the balloons and paid for the flowers.

We went up and I heard from Matt that it was a boy and heard from my mom all the other details.

They had already taken Sam to the nursery so we went down to look at him while Christine finished in recovery. My first glimpses of my nephew were wonderful, but after the first few minutes, we started to hear a woman in labor down the hall. It was not like what you see portrayed in movies or on TV. It was much, much worse. A nurse actually walked by and said "I'm sorry if you guys haven't had kids yet, it's not always like this."

I tried to block it out and concentrate on Sam's little toes and the way he kept pushing his tongue against his bottom lip. It would work until I'd hear "GEEEETTTTT IIIITTTTTTT OOOOUUUUUTTTT UUGGGGHHHHHH!!!!!!!"

Shortly afterwards, they brought Sam and Christine to her room so she could nurse him and after a while, we got to go in and see Christine and hold the baby. Between having a perfect little baby in my arms and the door closed to outside noise, I was able to forget the horrific shrieks I'd heard and enjoy meeting my nephew...and relishing the knowledge that the most difficult thing I'd gone through to get to hold a baby in my arms was sit through Blue Route traffic.

How Can I Have S'more When I Haven't Had Any Yet?

2011-06-06T21:25:00.005-04:00

In the latest episode of "I'm how old?", I burnt my lip tonight. How? By trying to scrape (with my teeth) the leftover bit of melted marshmallow off of the metal fork that I'd just held over an open flame to make a s'more.

Good Morning, Sunshine

2011-05-21T00:23:00.002-04:00

This morning when I got up to go to the bathroom, I got really freaked out because I thought my pee smelled like skunk. Then I realized it was just my neighbors indulging in a wake'n'bake.

Random Life Stuff

2011-05-18T22:05:00.004-04:00

Our landlord likes to eat on the run. He once showed up at our door balancing a full plate of food with one clean and one dirty air filter, announcing himself with a call of "Maintenance!"before going to change our air filter. That's why I'm not more suspicious about the quarter watermelon wrapped in aluminum foil and unopened can of cranberry sauce that are sitting on the sidewalk next to my front steps.

Within a three-day span I was mistaken for a married woman and a high school student. Someday I will figure out the right combination of hair, clothes and make-up that makes me look my actual age.

John and I were sitting at a bar in Toronto having a drink and a guy leaned between us to pay his tab. When the bartender told him the total, the guy shouted "EH?!" After trying to perfect the quintessential Canadian sound all weekend, this was like a golden goose being placed before us, on the bar. John and I immediately looked at each other and basically high fived with our eyes.

Baby Face

2011-04-01T17:06:00.003-04:00

A couple weeks ago, I met John in Clearwater, Florida for the weekend since he was already down there for work.

It was so nice to escape just for a brief time and feel some sunshine (through a shield of 70 SPF of course) and walk on the beach. Late Friday afternoon, after sitting on the beach for a while, we walked up to the pool bar to get a drink. We sat on stools among all the people in Phillies shirts and hats who had just returned from a spring training game.

Before the bartender even approached us, I heard people talking about Sea Isle City and my ears perked up. No one even knew what Sea Isle was when I mentioned it in North Jersey, so hearing it mentioned all the way in Florida was exciting. A girl was talking about a bar she liked and the guy she was chatting with was trying to remember the name of the place he would go for pizza late at night...

“It’s on a corner, it's brown, you have to walk up steps to get there...”

“ANGELO”S!” I screamed as I leaned across John toward them, almost falling off my stool in my attempt to be the first to buzz in with the correct answer.

They acknowledged my answer and we exchanged brief pleasantries but then it was time to order a drink.

The bartender came up and asked what we wanted. I asked for a strawberry daiquiri, since it seemed like the most appropriate thing to drink while sitting poolside.

“Coming right up,” the bartender replied, picking up a cup. “But could you just raise your sunglasses quick so I can see your face?”

“No problem,” I said, and lifted my large glasses.

She squinted in the sun, looked my face up and down, put the cup back on the bar.

“Uh, yeah, I’m going to need to see ID.”

I didn’t even pretend to look in my bag, I knew my ID was up in the hotel room.

“How about a virgin strawberry daiquiri?” I asked.

“Sure, sorry, you know, it’s just spring break and all,” she explained.

They say the eyes are the window to the soul. With my sunglasses on I was getting served, with my sunglasses off I was a minor trying to pull a fast one. I guess my soul must be about nineteen.

Tik Tok in A Minor

2011-02-21T21:15:00.003-05:00

I was scanning through radio stations in the car today, and as I passed by one station, I heard a snippet of a Ke$ha song. It was the "duh-duh-duh-duh-duh-dumb" portion of "We R Who We R," as in 'We're dancin like we're duh-duh-duh-duh-duh-dumb.'

Just hearing that one bar of robotic staccato sounded like the skipping that would occur when Vicki from Small Wonder would get splashed with water and malfunction. The thing it made me think about was- what if guys like Mozart, Bach, Chopin, somehow got transported through time to the America of 2011, listened to a Ke$ha song and were told, "yup, that's music."

Not that I'm a music critic or have anything to back up my two cents. And it's not like I haven't danced like I'm duh-duh-duh-dumb to a Ke$sha song or two, but just hearing that tiny flash of the song, out of context, put into stark contrast what music is today versus what music has been in the past.

It just makes me think about what I'm consuming as entertainment these days and if I'm really doing what's best for my brain...and the future of art. Does Jersey Shore have the staying power of Romeo and Juliet (no SamRon comparisons, please)? Will the Twilight series stand the test of time like Pride and Prejudice? Will music theory students of the future study the composition of Lil Wayne's early work while voice majors studiously listen to recordings of Auto Tuned Katy Perry songs?

I know there's still plenty of good stuff being produced, but there is also a huge glut of crap, and I think I'm hooked on more of it than I should be. Although, I have cut out some of my old reality guilty pleasures like Real Housewives and Real World/Road Rules Challenge. I've had the classic book "Heart of Darkness" by Joseph Conrad on my nightstand for two months, with page 35 still dog-eared, yet rom-com novel "Bet Me" about a frumpy, no-nonsense insurance agent who gets caught up in whirlwind romance with the strikingly handsome, achingly charming lawyer all based on a bet was devoured in two days. I guess what I'm trying to say is- actually, I'll wrap this up later, I'm missing The Bachelor.

What's My Motivation?

2011-02-02T20:50:00.001-05:00

After a bit of a dry spell (similar to the one I’ve been in blog-wise), I finally tried to go to the gym last night. Tried. Now I’m justified (slightly) in not having gone for a week since I have stitches in my leg and I’m not supposed to do strenuous activity. But I figured I could go walk on the treadmill and do some upper body weight training and crunches and stuff.

Then I got to the gym and drove into the parking lot. Between the influx of temporarily enthusiastic New Years Resolutioners and the mountains of snow, it made the parking lot a crazy place. Snow had eliminated some spots and created an obstacle course in others. That is no excuse, though, for creating spots wherever you decide to stop your car. People were parked diagonally, perpendicularly, and other directions that I don’t know the names for. They just dropped their cars with no regard for people driving through the parking lot, let alone trying to actually park. The way these meat heads parked made looking for parking spot like looking for a needle in an assholestack.

I did three laps around the main parking lot and two around the auxiliary lot with no luck. I told myself if I went around one more time with no luck I was going home- after all it was doctor’s orders. As I made my final lap, I saw a pair of reverse lights flash on, but I pretended (to myself?) that I didn’t and headed for the exit. After all, when else in my life am I ever going to have a doctor tell me NOT to exercise?

A couple hours later, when I was sitting on the couch watching Seinfeld and eating Girl Scout cookies, my skinny little sister walked in, flushed from a work out and told me she’d gotten a clear spot right in front of the gym door. I congratulated her and ate another cookie.

Recent Tidbits That Have Tickled Me

2011-01-03T22:25:00.007-05:00

- Jackie on her temperamental manager at Victoria's Secret:"I can't tell if I'm her sidekick or her bitch."

- A bumper sticker I saw on my ride home: "I piss excellence." I've decided to adopt this as my aspirational motto. From now on I will strive to feel that I too, piss excellence.

- I had a laughing fit when I saw one of these babies, can you guess which one?
http://awkwardfamilyphotos.com/2011/01/01/saturday-night-special-new-years-baby/

- Kitty was visiting for Christmas and decided she had to go to the bathroom while I was in there putting on make-up. She did not feel it was necessary for me to leave. I did. I won, but with only seconds to spare.

- My dad being chastised by my sister for trying to eat candy off of a gingerbread house that had been sitting out for three weeks. He was caught double fisting stale gumdrops and then searching in his pockets for a scrap of paper to spit them out into after the first bite. He found a candy wrapper (shocking) that worked nicely and the gingerbread house was promptly thrown away.

How Many Synonyms for Vomiting Can I Get into One Post?

2010-12-20T21:11:00.004-05:00

I started taking a new multi-vitamin recently, and I just realized that it’s causing an unpleasant side effect. Today was the third time that, shortly after taking it with breakfast, I experienced an intense wave of nausea. This has only happened on days when I’ve remembered to take the vitamin and kicks in within about 10 minutes of ingestion.

Today might have been the worst yet because the nausea set in while I was in the car rather than before I left the house. I was waiting to make the turn onto the road leading to I-95 and it hit me. I started taking deep breaths and swallowing the excess saliva that kept seeping into my mouth. “Oh my God,” I thought, “I’m going to vomit into my lap and all over my car.”

I kept telling myself that I was not going to throw up, I could not throw up. Deep down, though, I really thought it was a possibility. The thing that occurred to me later, after it passed, was that I didn’t pull over or turn around during this episode. I was 72% sure I was going to puke, yet I kept driving, even executing a smooth merge onto 95 next to a giant truck. Luckily I got through the nausea without spitting up, but now I’m really curious what would have happened had I just started spewing onto my dashboard. When was I going to stop the car? Did I think I’d have the presence of mind while yakking to correctly signal my pull over to my fellow drivers? Was I just going to power through to work and clean up when I got there? How was I going to react to the looks of horror from other drivers as they passed me, while I, with hands securely at 10 and 2, projectiled onto the steering wheel? I’m relieved I didn’t have to find out, but I’m thinking I start taking my vitamin with dinner from now on…

Dry Spell

2010-12-15T16:23:00.003-05:00

I haven't written any new posts in a while. Nothing really funny or weird has happened so I need to do something about that.

The Kid's Table

2010-11-26T21:27:00.004-05:00

One of my favorite things about the holidays is getting to see all the delightful little kids I'm lucky enough to be related to. This Thanksgiving was no disappointment and highlighted a big part of why I wanted to come back to live in the US. There was just general cuteness all around, but some of the things that stood out to me were the following:

- 13 month old Kendal is without a doubt the most adorable baby girl on the scene today. Before dinner was even served, she decided she was done with the festivities and looked around at everyone, waved and said "Buh bye" over and over. She also did this when we tried to feed her butternut squash soup. She waved a hand in front of her face like a celeb who didn't want to be photographed and said buh bye to the bowl of thick orange soup in front of her.

- Three year old Collin put on a show for us, standing in front of the fireplace, rocking out and head banging while playing a ukulele. My favorite part was that after every "song," he would come over to me to ask if I'd liked that one. I gave him tips like, play more than one string and hold the instrument with two hands but he decided to go in his own creative direction, and that was fine with me.

- Almost four year old Gabe has a new favorite word and has become adept at incorporating it into every facet of his life. The latest was during his nightly prayers where he recited, "Now I lay me down to sleep, I pray the Lord my poopy to keep..."

I can't wait for all the holiday gatherings to come and even more for the new babies that are going to increase the fun and cuteness quotient of these gatherings immensely.

The Princess and the Guido

2010-11-14T21:41:00.003-05:00

Clearly there can often be disparities between how we see ourselves and how others see us. However, I was recently confronted with one of the starkest contrasts I've experienced yet about how people see me- and it was two of the people closest to me. Jackie and Andrew told me this weekend about this sort of dainty fairy princess alter ego they've created for me as their own little joke. This stems from a few different events and has (in my opinion) been blown totally out of proportion.

Once in college, as a birthday present, my parents got a car service to take my friend and I into the city for a comedy show. The next time I was home, my mom asked me how the limousine was. "Well, it wasn't actually a limo, it was a town car," I explained. "But it was great, thanks." This of course was turned into a tale of me not being satisfied with anything short of a limo when in fact I was just clarifying the situation.

Then, after I visited Jackie in Florence, my parents didn't want to make the late night drive to JFK to pick me up so they got me a car service. In this case I was fully expecting a town car when up pulled a white stretch limo with my name on a sign in the windshield.

Aside from that, there have been a couple times when I've been out in New York and once in Sea Isle when for one reason or another I've ended up being driven to my destination in a limo.

They have also come to the conclusion that I have the softest hands either of them have ever felt, which they say indicates that I've never done a hard day's work in my life.

So now whenever they see a limousine one of them will remark, "Oh, I didn't know Ali was in town." Or when Andrew saw a stretch navigator with undercarriage lighting and a fog machine getting worked on he concluded that I was getting a tune up.
Or when they drove across the bridge into Sea Isle and saw a fireworks show and said "Oh, Ali beat us here, they already started her standard welcome."

This has spiraled into elaborate pictures they paint of my wedding in which I'll ride side saddle into the reception on a white stallion with ringlets in its mane and golden ribbons woven into its tail giving a Miss America wave to the guests.

I may not agree with this assessment of me, but I've decided to make the most of it, like letting Andrew open my car door or taking Jackie up on it when she asks if I need a cushion my chair when we sit down to brunch.

The once consolation is that Jackie has an alter ego too. Due to her dedication to staying tan year round, whether through beds or lotions, the regular shaving of her forearms and her tendency to flex her bicep any time someone touches her arm, Andrew has concluded that she is a secret Guido. I'll take fairy princess any day.

Work it Out

2010-11-06T11:30:00.003-04:00

Two work out-related things are stuck in my head so I thought I'd share them...

1) I was at the gym last night and at the weight machine next to me were two ladies of a certain age. They weren't ladies of a certain age in the classy, polished, "ladies who do lunch" way. It was more in the rumpled, can-of-frosting-eating, "ladies who have every-day sweats and dress sweats" way.

Anyway, they were taking turns on this one machine when one of the members of the fitness staff came over to them and started chatting. Obviously they'd encountered each other before and talked about his mother's health and his car. This guy is maybe 27 years old, not super good-looking but clean cut, in good shape and friendly. After talking with the ladies for a few minutes he made his way back to his desk. As he walked away I heard the one who was on the machine suck in her breath and say "Oooo, I'd like to take. Him. Home!" To which the other replied with a cackling "Girl, I bet you would!"
"He is just so cute," the first one continued. "I just wanna put'eem in my car and take'eem home. I don't know how I'd explain why he was there though!"

I couldn't figure out if she meant she'd have to explain it to her husband, or to the young guy, who would be thinking she needed help cleaning her gutters or opening a jar of pickles, only to have her seductively remove her dress sweats while he stood shaking in her dark wood paneled kitchen.

2) Looking around at some of the men working out, I had a childhood flashback. Due to the "before and after" pictures in Bowflex commercials, I spent a significant part of my youth thinking that when a man started to lift weights, his muscles got so big that they made all the hair on his chest pop off.

Kitty

2010-10-28T18:16:00.004-04:00

Being home and having a lot of free time has been really nice. I've gotten to do things I wouldn't normally have the opportunity to do. For example, last week I stayed with my cousin's adorable daughter when she had to stay home sick from school. Today, my mom and I spent the afternoon with my Grandmom, Kitty, who is my dad's mom. We helped her clean her windows, wash her curtains and put up some new shades.

While these tasks aren't fun in and of themselves, doing them with my grandmom makes them pretty entertaining. In her old age, she has become one of those sassy old ladies who just decided she's been around long enough to say whatever she wants. Some people may be put off by this but I find her hilarious. Some of her lines from today include the following:

- On my mom suggesting we go to Home Depot to get new window treatments: "Oh yeah, I have a charge card for there. Hot Damn!"

- On arriving at Home Depot, the greeter at the entrance said "Hello ladies, how are you today?" "SHADES!," Grandmom shouted over him. "Window shades!"

- On how long her nails have gotten: "Well, I love to pick scabs..."

- On serving us lunch: "I don't want to hear anything about any diets. This lunch is...this lunch is just go to hell!"

- On kids not getting up and sneaking down to look at their Christmas presents: "Oh, I used to pee the bed every Christmas Eve."

- On her 80-something sister getting remarried this summer: "Well, don't tell me there wasn't some hankey pankey going on before that. She thinks she's still 60 years old, ya know."

Don't think I'm not taking notes for 50 years from now...

Scaredy Cat

2010-10-21T10:35:00.003-04:00

As I was going to bed the other night, I realized that my closet doors were open and I got out of bed to close them. As I did that, I wondered why it really mattered to me that the doors be closed. Then I remembered that when I was little, I was afraid of my closet. I tried to remember why- I think it had to do with the loud noise the doors made when they opened or closed, along with the dark, hard-to-access, hard-to-get-out-of corners.

That got me thinking about what else I was scared of as a kid, versus what I'm scared of today as a sort-of adult. Let's see how the past stacks up against the present:

Then: My closet
Now: Dying a spinster

Then: The sound of the toilet flushing in our hallway bathroom
Now: Developing chin hairs

Then: My mom when she was angry
Now: My mom when she's angry

Then: Getting kidnapped out of my bedroom window at night
Now: What state Social Security will be in when I retire

Then: Escalators
Now: Melanoma

Then: Accidentally farting in public
Now: Accidentally farting in public

I guess some things will never change.

Just Desserts

2010-10-18T23:19:00.000-04:00

This is bad. Since I came home, I've been trying really hard to detox from alcohol, bad-for-me food and general sloth-ish behavior. I've been going to the gym with my sister as her guest, taking spinning, kickboxing and boxing circuit classes. I've been eating lots of fruits and vegetables and I haven't had an alcoholic beverage in almost two weeks. I also haven't really had any sort of baked good or candy bar either and that is the really difficult part.

Tonight, Jackie and I went to spinning and then came home and had grilled chicken and salad and some raspberry Jell-O. But then we started watching the World Pastry Chef competition and things went downhill- fast. Without saying anything, we'd both gotten up multiple times and wandered out of the family room and into the kitchen, scavenging for something sweet. Unfortunately there's not much to choose from, since we've refrained from buying the bad stuff. The remaining 1/16 of a week-old apple pie has several fork marks in it. Three half-stale jelly peach rings aren't getting the job done, and I felt ashamed at almost being caught squeezing year-old blue decorative icing out of the tube directly into my mouth.

We didn't realize the extent of our desperation until I remembered a Kinder chocolate hippo that had been in a candy dish in the family for I don't know how long. I snatched it up and Jackie grabbed a knife. She cut it in half and took a nibble.

"It doesn't taste good," she said. "I think there's a cobweb in it."
"What?!" I replied. "Let me see."

I looked into my half. It looked like the cake-like substance inside had gotten very crumbly but I didn't see any cobwebs. Undeterred I sallied forth and took a bite as Jackie threw her half away, wondering how unacceptable it would be to pull a George Costanza and fish hers out of the trash. Before I could complete that thought though, I realized that the confection I was chewing to satisfy my chocolate craving tasted like blue cheese.

I spit it out, threw away the remainder and joined Jackie in leaning over the sink, repeatedly filling our mouths with water and spitting it out. I think we've hit a new low.

No Place Like Home

2010-10-07T22:33:00.003-04:00

I've been home for three weeks now. Here is a little bit of what's been going on:

- I went to a Phillies game with my dad and resisted the urge to turn around and chastise the obnoxious man behind us heckling the left fielder
- I danced on a layer of beer and broken glass at the O.D. in Sea Isle
- I've expressed my concern over the possibility of meeting a guy who's really great but has a strong Philly accent
- I started going to the gym and tore up my little baby hands in boxing circuit training class
- I've seen almost all of my best friends and a good number of family members
- I housed a third of a box of Pop'Ems in one sitting
- I've taken multiple bubble baths
- I've taken some long drives and subsequently have sung show tunes at the top of my lungs
- I've made an average of four Wawa trips per week

We'll see in the next few months what else the US holds for me...

Electric Slide

2010-09-30T22:31:00.007-04:00

I had a reader ask me to address a question on my blog. Since that's never happened before, I thought I should give it a shot. Since I'm apparently considered a world traveler now, I think people think I'll know a lot more about other countries than I do.

I am, however, a really good Googler So when this reader (who wishes to remain anonymous) asked me to blog about why different countries have different outlets/plugs, I said I was up to the challenge.

From what I read, it seems that the reason is twofold. First, different countries have different voltages based on their varying power supplies. The plugs are based on how high or low the voltage is coming out of the outlets. A higher voltage power requires a round plug, while a lower voltage requires a flat plug.

The second reason is fiscal. If every country had the same plugs, you could buy appliances from anywhere and use them in your home. If the plugs are exclusive to a country, residents have to buy things that are made specifically for that country, presumably by company that is based there, thus supporting the country's economy.

I hope this is helpful. By the way this could be completely inaccurate, as it didn't come from a really reliable site like, say, Wikipedia. But these explanations sound valid so I'm willing to accept them at face value. Don't worry, ths doesn't mean I'm going to switch over to be a helpful, question-answering blog. There will be plenty of stories to come of general awkwardness and random life experiences.

Smile, You're in...Montmelo

2010-09-07T09:31:00.012-04:00

I've been a little negligent of this blog lately. It's partly because I've been working on stuff for Barcelona-Insiders.com and thisBoundlessworld.com. I've been writing travel articles for other sites but I thought I'd write one for my little baby blog too.

I've had this idea for a while of going to ticket machine at the train station and randomly picking a destination from the touch screen, either by the name or not looking and just poking a finger at the screen and seeing which destination was selected. I thought it would be an adventure.

Last week my friends Laura, Jessica and I went to the train station and did just that. We decided to choose by name. We narrowed it down to a few names we liked and ended up going with a place called Montmelo (I liked it because it made me think of marshmallow).

There were a few signs that maybe should have told us that this wasn't going to be an epic adventure.

First- right after we put the money in to buy the tickets, the man behind us asked if we were in fact going to Montmelo, which he apparently spied on from his position in line. We said yes and he asked if we were going for the Formula One race. We answered with an urgent and definitive "No!" lest anyone should overhear it and think we are race car fans. "Well, it's not worth it," he replied, apparently not understanding our response. Strike one, Montmelo.

Second- On the train ride there, Jess and Laura sat together and I sat in an adjacent row of seats along the side wall. I turned in my seat so I was facing them. A young man got on the train and sat in the seat behind me. After a while I noticed that he seemed to have turned in his seat the same way I had so that he was also sitting sideways. Except that, I had turned to face my friend, he was now facing the back of my head. I sensed something in that way that only girls who have plenty of experience with creepers can.

"He's staring at the back of my head, isn't he?" I asked the girls quiety and in rapid English. "Oh yeah," Jess replied.
"And he's got a real weird look on his face too," added Laura.
"Oh God, is he gonna touch my hair?"

Jess and Laura weren't as concerned about this as I was and started trying to figure out which actor he looked like. They determined that he looked like the kid who played Anakin Skywalker and was in that movie Jumper.
"Something Christian," said Laura.
"Oh right, Christian Haydenson!" replied Jess.
"Yes! That's it!" exclaimed Laura.
"It's Hayden Christensen, guys," I broke in. "For real though, is he sniffing my hair?!"
Luckily he got off a couple stops before us. Still, though, Strike two.

We finally arrived at our desitination and began walking around. There seemed to be a church and a street with three restaurants and a shoe store. We walked around the residential streets, cameras in hand, getting some strange looks from the locals
We decided to have lunch at one of the outdoor cafes on the main street. We had a nice lunch. It was a cute little town, but after lunch we went to look for gelato. No dice. Strike three, Montmelo, big time.

We caught a train back to our beloved Barcelona and had giant gelatos (I got a scoop of dark chocolate and a scoop of hazlenut- amazing) and walked around the bustling streets, happy to be home after our "adventure."

.

.

Signs That I Might Be Drunk

2010-08-29T07:56:00.002-04:00

Just in case you wanted to know...

- Everything I say is shouted

- I have to ask if I’m shouting

- I stand on furniture and sing into a hairbrush

- I dance

- I get what I call at the time“the dropsies”

- I start conversations with “And another thing!”

- I go on Facebook and search for, find, friend request and message
people who most likely don’t remember me and/or don’t care to hear from me

- I assume all strangers want to talk to me

- I rap (freestyle and over popular tracks)

- I use my rapper hands* to give emphasis to everything I say while not rapping

- I tell people I’m a big deal and suggest they Google me to prove it

- I close my left eye because it seems to help me see better

- I frequently repeat the phrase “I do what I want, whatevah!”

*Rapper Hands are formed by holding both arms out in front of me, angled in at the elbows with my hands spread out, palms facing in and then moving my hands up and down

Another Milestone

2010-08-26T09:41:00.002-04:00

Well, I'm now one step closer to leaving Barcelona, or returning to America. The way I say it depends on which side of the ocean the person I'm talking to is located. Yesterday Laura and I moved out of our apartment. Now she is staying next door to our apartment with her boyfriend and I am crashing with my friends Jessica and Sofi who graciously offered to let me stay with them.

Leading up to our departure, Laura and I were pretty stressed about whether or not we'd get any of our security deposit back. A few weeks ago the landlady had come to talk through the end of our contract and the meeting left a bad taste in our mouths.

From the minute she walked in the door, bringing with her the stale smell of unwashed poly-cotton housedress and impending death, we had a bad feeling. She was very confrontational and began looking around the apartment, finding things wrong, like chipped paint near the (very high)ceiling, and asking us what we'd done to the place.

She asked to the see the kitchen and as soon as she crossed the threshold she looked up at the (clean) white tile wall and tsk-tsked. "Ay, que sucio," she said. "Oh how dirty." I tried to follow her shaky gaze and asked where she saw dirt. "Es muy sucio," she replied. I looked again and all I saw was white. To prove her wrong, I took a paper towel and wiped it down the wall. It was perfectly clean. I held it out to her. "Mira, es limpia," I told her. "Look, it's clean." She responded by turning her head away and telling me not to try to clean it now. If she wasn't smaller than me, I really might have slapped her.

We spent six and a half straight hours cleaning the day before she came to inspect the place to determine how much money we'd get back, if any. I have never cleaned so well or sweat so much in my life. It paid off because we ended up getting all of our money back. It didn't happen without a 10 minute demonstration to show her that the washing machine worked (and how it works), turning every light on and off, and promising her we'd clean the windows and shower doors again with a specific type of cleaner. While she was there she freaked out every time she felt a breeze and commanded us to shut all the windows. It was as if she thought it was death coming for her and needed us to keep it away.

We cleaned the windows and walked around in socks so as not to dirty the floor and a few hours later she came back, gave us our money and wished us well. We both resisted the urge to push her down the stairs when she left, just for all the stress she'd caused us and just ejoyed counting and splitting up our money instead.

My Favorite

2010-08-20T09:09:00.004-04:00

One of my favorite students now is also my youngest. A little half English, half Spanish three year old girl whose parents want her to practice her English. It's like a combination of English class and babysitting. I almost feel bad taking money for it because she is so effin cute that I really enjoy hanging out with her.

The cutest part is the way she mixes English and Spanish and her accent when speaking English. The other day we were talking about the baby her mom will be having in November. I asked her what she wants the baby's name to be and she said Charlotte. I asked her why she wanted that name and her response was "Because, because, because...I don't like of the other ones."

I was fixing her hair and gave her one of my bobby pins to hold some of it back. It pulled her hair though, so she took it out. When she gave it back she said "I don't like of you cleeps, I like of mines."

It warms my heart whenever it is time for me to go and she gets upset. This was the conversation we had when I left on Wednesday:

Me: Alright, almost time for me to go, ok?
Her: You gonna go to you house?
Me: Yup, I'm going to go home and you're going to eat lunch.
Her: Why you have go to you house? I no want you to go. You no wanna stay and look me eat lunch?
Me: No, I'm not going to watch you eat lunch today, I'm going to go home and eat my lunch.
Her: Oh, but you come back tomorrow, k?

Down Philly Way

2010-08-11T19:14:00.003-04:00

This may come as a surprise to you, but most of the world is not familiar with Bucks County, Pennsylvania. So when I meet people from different countries and they ask where I'm from, I just say Philadelphia. I've met a lot of people over the past year, from all over the world, but their responses to hearing that I'm from Philly only fall into three categories.

What might surprise you more than them not knowing Bucks County is that none of the three responses have anything to do with cheesesteaks, brotherly love, soft pretzels, the Liberty Bell or Boyz II Men (I'm personally offended and chagrined by the latter).

When I meet someone from anywhere in Europe or the UK and I tell them I'm from Philadelphia they respond with one of the following:

- "Oohhhh, cheese! Cream cheese!"

- "Iiiinnnnnn West Philadelphia, born and raised, on a playground is where I spent most of my days..." this is where I join in and perform the rest of the song with them, complete with hand gestures such as pinching my nose when I say "Yo homes, smell ya later!"

- "Oh, Tom Hanks, AIDS. I like that film."

This is who we are to the rest of the world, Philly. How do you feel about that?

Senior Service

2010-08-04T16:59:00.005-04:00

Laura and I went to a beach today called Sant Pol de Mar, which is about an hour train ride north of Barcelona. It was a perfect beach day and around 6pm we were ready to head home. We walked back to where we'd gotten the train. We sat on a bench on the opposite side of the tracks from where the north-bound train had dropped us off hours earlier.

We had been sitting there a few minutes when I heard the signature "ttssst" that is a Spanish person trying to get your attention. I've become pretty good at ignoring this, but then it was followed by "chicas, Barcelona." At that I had to look up. Across the tracks was a very old man. He repeated, "Barcelona" and gestured to his side of the tracks, "por aqui," he said, meaning "over here." There did seem to be more people on that side so we took his word for it and crossed the tracks, thanking him when we got there.

While we were sitting waiting, we saw him assist three other people the same way. He had a gift for knowing exactly who was going to Barcelona and needed his help getting where they needed to go. When the train came and we climbed aboard, we noticed that he stayed seated on his bench. I determined that he must have decided it is his responsibility to sit on that bench for the express purpose of telling people that they are on the wrong side of the tracks.

I imagined him sitting with his friends over a beer at night saying, "You know, it's my busy season right now, they're really busting my hump down at the station. These city folk don't know their ass from a hole in the ground, I don't want to think what would happen if I wasn't putting in these extra hours. It would be chaos, I tells ya, chaos!"

I pictured him with a clicker like bouncers use to count how many people are getting into a bar, ticking off every misguided beachgoer he's aided. Then heading to the local chamber of commerce at the end of the beach day to report on his progress. "Well, Pilar, my numbers were a little low today, but you saw that cloud cover, people stayed home. I did what I could with what was there."

It made me think that I might want a similar occupation when I reach such an age. I'm thinking I might plant myself outside of large buildings like offices and libraries and warn people as they approach as to whether the door is a push or pull. I think that's something I could feel good about. And if they look like jerks I'll tell them the opposite. Since I'll be a sweet little (probably about 4'2" by that point I'd imagine) old lady so they won't really get mad, they'll just think I'm confused. I can't wait.

Alejandro

2010-07-25T15:24:00.004-04:00

Today I went to a park near my apartment that has a crazy collection of these industrial-looking pools, fountains and waterfalls. I wanted to sit by the water, catch some of the waterfall spray, and get a little sun. I had been there about 15 minutes when I looked up from my book and saw that a tanned, meat-heady looking but very handsome man had walked over to my little section of poolside. I am immediately suspicious of any really pretty guy who approaches me, so the way he sauntered over to this random little section of a big park was somewhat off putting. Also he was wearing white linen drawstring pants, which just doesn't do it for me.

He wasted no time in sitting down next to me, introducing himself as Alejandro and asking my name. I used my standard defense mechanism, which is to say that I don’t speak Spanish. No dice; he spoke pretty good English and pressed right on ahead with questions about me. I avoided eye contact and gave brief answers, each one punctuated with a glance into the distance on my other side or back at the page I’d been reading.

As he sat there, I could see him looking down at his chest and abs and then at me, as if making sure he was positioned and angled for my optimal viewing pleasure. He seemed eager to hear just what phrases I was going to use to praise his physique.

About 2 minutes into the mostly one-sided conversation, he asked if I wanted to go get coffee. I said no thank you. He then commented on the heat and walked over to the pool and dipped a toe in. Again remarking on the heat, he undid the single button that had been holding his button down shirt together and started to tug it off. The sleeves stopped at his large biceps and he said he needed help. I, however, was not willing to help him. This was not only because he was creepy, but because any guy who wears shirts a size too small for the express and obvious purpose of accentuating his guns doesn’t deserve to get anything he asks for, especially assistance in removing said shirt. He managed it on his own and proceeded to scoop up handfuls of water to dribble over his bare torso, where chest hair stubble was just starting to peek out from where it had recently been shorn.

He sat back down and asked did I want to put my feet in the water? No, I’m not that hot.

Did I want to go to his house to have lunch with him? No thanks, I'd already eaten.

When I made it pretty clear that I wasn’t going to put my feet in the water and wasn’t leaving anytime soon, and never with him, he asked if I would give him my phone number. I told him I didn’t have a phone. I pretended not to see him glance down at the obvious outline of my phone in my front pocket; meanwhile thinking what I could say it was if he asked about the small rectangular bulge in my pocket- iPod? Too big. Camera? Too small. Just happy to see him? Not an option. I moved my book to rest over my pocket.

Eventually the creep factor overpowered my deeply ingrained compulsion to be polite and I told him I had come here to be alone and read my book and that was all I was going to do today. He asked one more time if I wanted to put my feet in the water or come have lunch at his house, I said no once again. He leaned over to bid me a traditional European two cheek kiss goodbye. I had to turn my head as far around as it would go to avoid lip contact on the second kiss, but thankfully after that he took his leave.

I watched him go out of the corner of my eye. I saw him meander into the grassy section of the park and stop at a spot where a redheaded girl in a tube top was sunbathing. After a minute or two he sat down on her towel and a few minutes after that I saw them both take out their phones as they continued their conversation.

I moved closer to the pool, put my feet in the water and chuckled, and about 5 minutes later went home to have lunch

Count Your Blessings

2010-07-13T18:19:00.004-04:00

The other day I was feeling a little sorry for myself, as we all sometimes do. I got over it pretty quickly, but was thinking back on it today while riding on the metro. Then I looked around at my fellow passengers and started thinking about how lucky I am and realized I should just be grateful for what I have- or don't have. For example:

- I don't have those really long second toes that stick out way beyond the big toe

- I have a pretty good gum-to-tooth ratio

- I'm not Lindsay Lohan

- I don't say "supposebly" or "anyways"

- My eyes aren't so close together that from some angles I look cross-eyed

- I don't have a really distinct or obnoxious sneeze (although my cough and laugh may outweigh that one)

I'd suggest this activity for anyone whenever you're feeling down, although it may get you down on other people.

Catalan Casanova- Junior Edition

2010-07-04T08:20:00.004-04:00

I taught my 13 year old student (of diarrhea fame) on Thursday. He has a desk with two chairs in his bedroom so that is where we do the lessons. But I'm starting to think that rather than seeing it as an English lesson, his pubescent mind can't get past the fact that there is woman who is not related to him in his bedroom. He doesn't want to do any work, and the past two weeks has ended up laying on his bed. This week he asked, while reclining on his pillows, if I was tired too. I said not at all and tried to lure him back to the desk with the promise of a computer game.

I found a site to do crossword puzzles in English. But he saw that they also had a golf game and wanted to play that instead. I said ok to one game, since that would at least get him back in a sitting position. But he wasn't so easily distracted, this is the conversation that followed:

Student: "We can play that if I put the ball in the cup in more than five...(I told him they are called strokes)...strokes, yes, strokes. If I put the ball in the cup with more than five strokes, you tell me to do something. If I do in less than five strokes, I tell you to do something."

Me: "What do you mean? Do what?"

Student: "I don't know, we can invent this."

Me: "Ummmmm. I don't... Ummm, what kind of thing, like what?"

Student: "We will see. Here, I begin."

Me: "Wait, no, I don't think, ummm." (but curiosity as to what he would actually ask was getting the best of me) "It couldn't be anything inappropriate."

Student: "What is this, inappropriate?"

Me: "You know what, we only have five minutes left, why don't you just play the golf game, just for fun."

Student: "Aww, only five minutes? I like this class today, I don't want it should end."

Me: "Heh, aw. Ok, then, well, I'll see you next week buddy."

Tattoo Spelling Mistakes

2010-06-25T18:20:00.001-04:00

Looking at these makes me feel good about myself.

http://www.elistmania.com/still/25_regrettable_tattoo_spelling_mistakes/showall/

My Directorial Debut

2010-06-22T18:04:00.004-04:00

Well, after all my fretting, complaining and yelling- West Side Story is over. This was undoubtedly the most stressful part of the past nine months for me and I'm really glad it's over.

People have been asking me how it went and basically my response has been "not horrible" or "as good as could have been expected." The kids didn't come out of nowhere and blow me away, but they did do just slightly better than I'd expected.

If you ignore:
- the two times groups walked onstage before they were supposed to and turned around and walked off- only to walk back on seven seconds later when the music began

- the one time a girl (onstage in the middle of a song) saw me miming the choreography in the wings and hit another girl on the shoulder and pointed to me to show her what to do

- the fact that the singing was either incomprehensible or inaudible pretty much the entire time

then it wasn't half bad.

Watching the video after the fact, I felt that it must be something akin to giving birth, even beyond the fact that it was nine months in the making and painful to watch. Once all the stress and worry and screaming is over, and you're just left with the result, you kind of forget all the stuff that came before and just appreciate the finished product. As I watched it the next day, I just felt happy and accomplished.

All in all I'm proud of the kids and proud of myself.

Doesn't mean I'm ever trying to do it again though.

Potty Mouth

2010-06-17T16:22:00.004-04:00

Today I was teaching one of my brightest young students. He is a 13 year old who speaks better English than many of the adults I teach. He always surpises me with his vocabulary. For example he was telling me today how he likes to cook, but doesn't follow recipes because he "likes to improvise in the kitchen."

Today, however, it wasn't his vocabulary that surprised me, it was his bluntness. He was in the middle of talking and said "Excuse me, I need to go to the toilet." I said that was fine and didn't question it. Then on his way out of the room he turned and said, "I have dee-ah-ree-ah. I don't think you want I do it here."

Now I don't know if he felt a greater explanation was necessary, or he just wanted to show that he knew the word, or if he saw an opportunity to make a (sort of) joke in English and just went for it. If it was the latter then I support it completely; I'll bust out a poop joke at every opportunity.

Either way, that combined with all the children's songs I've been singing lately got me thinking about all the silly little songs I used to sing with my brother and sister and friends and cousins when I was little. Particularly this baseball-themed classic that I vaguely remembered but had to Google to see all the words...

When you're sliding into first
And your pants begin to burst
That's diarrhea, diarrhea

When you're sliding into two
And your pants are filled with goo
That's diarrhea, diarrhea

When you're sliding into third
And you feel a greasy turd
That's diarrhea, diarrhea

When you're sliding into home
And your pants are filled with foam
That's diarrhea, diarrhea

I literally was doubled over screeching with hysterical laughter (alone) when I read this song. It brought back so many memories that I had to share it. I hope it's brought you as much joy as it did me.

P.S. In case this wasn't enough for you, there is a blog dedicated to variations of this song. I think the person who created it may be my soul mate- http://diarrheasong.blogspot.com/

A Good Week

2010-06-15T09:36:00.003-04:00

Last week was quite busy, but in a good way, as I had some new private students (i.e. more money) and fun things to do at night after work. Of course, having a lot going on, some interesting things are bound to happen. Here are some stand out moments.

- Riding the metro to the city center on Wednesday night, Laura and I were standing in the space between two cars. There wasn't really anyone around us and we were just chatting quietly. Then after a brief lull in the conversation, I went to say something and turned my head slightly to the left as I did. During that lull in which I'd kept my eyes looking straight ahead, a woman had sidled up so close to me that when I did turn my head I was able to count the number of unruly eyebrow hairs that were sticking out over her right eye. I jumped back immediately and then Laura and I were both so overwhelmed with laughter that we ran to the next car.

- As I mentioned in a previous post we've had a visit or two from certain multi-legged, attennaed friends recently. This week Laura discovered a giant one in the bathroom. Her solution was to put duct tape over the cracks at the top and bottom of the door and hold her pee till she got to work. I'm usually pretty squeamish about bugs but in this domestic situation I am the tough guy. So I got home from work, took everything out of the bathroom so there was no place to hide, opened the window, wrapped the fly swatter in duct tape and wrestled a giant cockroach to the death. I won.

- On the train ride back from a day trip to a beautiful beach I spotted what I like to refer to as a Canadian Tuxedo trifecta. This consisted of denim shorts, a short-sleeved denim bolero jacket and a long-sleeved more traditional denim jacket tied around the waist. It really made a great day at the beach truly complete.

- Later that night before going out, I made myself a glass of tinto de verano to have with dinner. This consists of red wine mixed with lemon Fanta and it's a popular summer drink, particularly in Southern Spain. The small glass went down really quickly and I told Laura that it was already starting to go to my head. "Well yeah," she replied. "You drank it really fast, you usually sip your red wine." "I know," I said. "That's how you're supposed to drink red wine. But you mix that stuff with soda and all bets are off." It was a good precursor to that Saturday night, where we drank caipirinhas, which are basically Brazilian moonshine and lime juice.

Addendum- Things I Can't Stand

2010-06-08T21:01:00.004-04:00

It has come to my attention recently that one of my posts may have offended a reader or two. Since I only have seven readers, I feel I need to rectify this to maintain my audience.

In my post regarding Things I Can't Stand (http://aligamusings.blogspot.com/2010/05/things-i-cant-stand.html), I said that one of those things included holiday ties. Let me alter this to say that, if you are a smokin hot 23 year old gay man, you can pretty much pull off anything, including a classy, well-knotted holiday tie.

That being said, I would also like to add to the list of things I can't stand, these two items:

- Guys carrying their girlfriends' purses

- People panhandling on the metro who have highlights in their hair

And if you have a problem with either of these, then we just can't be friends.

2010 By The Numbers

2010-06-08T04:50:00.005-04:00

Wow, it's June- already. That means we're about at the halfway point of 2010. I realized this yesterday and I started reflecting on this year so far. It's been really good overall, probably one of the best of my life. I decided the best way to paint a picture of the first half of this year is to do it the only way I can paint anything- by number. So here are my first six months of 2010 by the numbers:

9- the number of planes I've been on

8- the number of airports I've gone through

57- the number of little Spanish lives I've enriched with the joys of the English language

6- the number of students of mine who can actually form a sentence in English

2- the number of occasions this year(so far) in which a guy didn't kiss me goodbye because he feared he might vomit on me if he attempted to do so

3- the number of times I've had to teach the word "poop"

0- the number of times I've taught the word "poop" without laughing

2- the number of parties we've had at our apartment

4- the number of old Spanish lady neighbors we've heard complaining about our parties the next day

8- the number of wonderful visitors I've had here since January

4- the number of of wonderful visitors still to come

12- the number of different pastries I sampled during a 2.5 day stay in Paris

34- the approximate number of prostitutes working the street outside my hotel during said Paris visit

1- the number of cockroaches I've discovered crawling on me in my sleep

5- the number of times I've had to tell a four year old student to stop staring at my chest when I speak to him

1,583- the number of times I've completely lost my cool at West Side Story rehearsal

2- the number of rehearsals left until the actual production

11- the number of celebratory drinks I plan to have when West Side Story is finally really over

Infinity- the number of times I've agonized over what to do with my life for the second half of the year and beyond...

La Cucaracha

2010-06-01T08:52:00.004-04:00

I had a busy couple days this past weekend, running all over the city with Jackie and Andrew. So I was pretty excited about getting a good night's sleep last night. My wish was coming true too, I was in a sweet, deep slumber, (which I think may have even included a dream in which I was really skinny) until about 4am.

I was awoken by a tickling feeling on my arm. Right after I became aware of the tickling, I realized that the tickling was moving (crawling, you might say) down my arm. I didn't need to be wide awake for my skeeve reflex to kick in and I swatted at my arm. Immdiately after, I felt the tickly feeling reappear on my leg, so I swatted again and then turned on my lamp.

There on my bed was a little fella that looked something like this:

I picked up about five different objects, including books, a mug, and my cell phone charger trying to figure out how to handle this. It was too big to step on, I didn't want to do anything where I would have to feel it through a tissue or something, and I didn't want to smash it into my comforter. I finally decided to get a plastic cup and guide it in there with a book. Unfortunately, he wasn't too enthusiastic about that idea and scuttled away a couple times before disappearing under my bed.

There's tons of crap under my bed and I can't lift the bed to move any of it without help. I stood there in my room for a good five minutes, looking around as if I expected someone (preferably my dad) to appear and make it all better. Finally I accepted that that wasn't going to happen. I decided to take the path of least resistance, which at 4am I will opt for every time, and took a pillow and blanket out to the couch.

I drifted off with elaborate plans in my head for fashioning screens for my windows and woke up about every 35 minutes to glance at the crack under my bedroom door to make sure he wasn't coming to get me.

I haven't seen any sign of my late night guest today. Laura and I are going to take all the stuff out from under my bed and see what happens, but I have a feeling he'll only reappear at night. I think he might just want to cuddle.

Things I Can't Stand

2010-05-25T10:20:00.002-04:00

For some reason I feel compelled to share this. In no particular order, things I really can't stand:

- Seeing kids in casinos

- Pleated-front pants

- Trying too hard (there are many manifestations of this throughout all areas of life)

- Being pushed in big crowds

- Holiday-themed ties

- Clear plastic strap bras

- Nervous laughs

- Cardigan sweaters intentionally left drooping down on shoulders

- Cell phone charms

- Couples walking with their hands in each others' back pockets

Hope I didn't offend anyone- it feels really good to get that out there.

The Power of Love

2010-05-21T13:15:00.003-04:00

As in many European cities, there is a large group of African immigrants in Barcelona who sell knock-off bags and sunglasses on the street. They usually travel in groups and yesterday a number of them, with their bed sheet bundles of fake Prada bags in tow, got on the metro right where I was standing.

Some were chatting and some were quiet and I didn't pay too much attention to them. Then one of their cell phones rang and the ring tone was this song, at about the 59 second mark. The ring lasted about eight seconds, I think he delayed answering just so he could hear as much of it as possible

The other passengers nearby must have been listening to their iPods or dead, because nobody laughed but me. I eventually had to turn around and face the wall because I couldn't stop laughing and was worried I was going to get a faux Chanel to the face.

They got off two stops later and I was able to continue my ride in tranquility, but I've had that song in my head for the 32 hours that have elapsed since then.

P.S. There were several video choices for this song on YouTube but clearly the one I used was superior to them all in every way.

The Candy Man Can

2010-05-11T15:28:00.002-04:00

I've always had a feeling that someday my insatiable sweet tooth would come in handy or do something to redeem a lifetime of detriment. Well, I think that day has finally come.

One of my four year old students had a bag of Gummi Bears in class today, and since he wouldn't share I was really craving something sweet and chewy on my way home. I decided to stop in the candy store close to my house. I got a bag of my favorite Besitos de Fresa. While weighing my candy, the shop owner commented on my choice and asked a question about what types of candy I like (ha, what don't I like?). Often I'm embarrassed by my Spanish and will avoid extra conversations like this with people who might otherwise not think I'm quite so foolish as they will after I open my mouth. Since we were talking candy, though, I didn't hesitate to reel off the names of my faves (got that vocab down real quick).

While he went to get me a new type of marshmallow to try he asked where I was from and what I was doing here. When I told him I was an English teacher he perked up and asked about the types of classes I teach, how much I charge, my availability etc. Turns out he has two kids who he'd like to have a leg up on English.

While we were talking and he was writing down my name and phone number, an old man walked in. He heard us talking and got into the conversation (all the while spitting out particles of the almonds he was eating), saying he might be interested in classes too. He asked how long it would take for me to teach him to speak English. I told him that depended on how hard he was willing to work and that it would take a long time to speak perfectly. He decided to turn it around on me and ask how long I'd been in Spain. I dodged a big piece of chewed up almond and told him eight months, to which he replied "well, and you don't speak perfectly." I told him that was because I don't have someone as good as me to teach me Spanish. I think that won him over and he took my number too.

The best part is that the candy store owner said if I teach his kids I can have free candy. So the moral of the story is that I'm never going to resist a craving again.

This Week in Teaching

2010-04-28T18:57:00.003-04:00

- One student couldn't think of the word she wanted to use when we were talking about recess time in school, so she said "during the Kit-Kat time." Clearly a candy-related trigger was all I needed and I lost no time in shouting "Gimme a break! You want to say 'break'!!!"

- I survived the first pseudo-performance of West Side Story, which was just a preview for the parents. When it was over I felt pretty good about it, since I hadn't set my expectations very high. Then I went to talk to my boss and said "That went pretty well," at the exact same moment that she said, "That was a total disaster."

- I was playing charades with my private, brother/sister class. We had to do either an action verb or a profession. After several attempts to act out her word, I finally gave up and asked the sister to just tell me what it was. Eight year old Georgina informed me that she was being "sexy police." A few minutes later, when her brother had to write a sentence on the board using a possessive "'s" he wrote that "Georgina's favorite food is Cristiano Ronaldo."

Mirror Mirror in the Shed, Why'd My Computer Sh*t the Bed?

2010-04-18T11:35:00.004-04:00

I haven't blogged in a while. It's not because I don't want to. It has more to do with the fact that my computer went all Snow White on me (meaning ingested something bad and appears dead, but is, I hope, faking it) and I'm still waiting for the prince (in the form of a techie) to wake her ass up.

Since I'm using my roommate, Laura's laptop in the meantime, I've been trying to keep my computer time to a minimum. However, once I have access to all my usual tools and pictures and things, I will be able to write some of the posts I've been planning and do them the way I want to.

In the meantime, I can tell you that since my last post I had a wonderful visit with my friend Lex and her boyfriend, Ben. We went on a little trip to the Basque Country and it was GORGEOUS there, so I can't wait to share some pictures.

I also started (just today) a juice fast along with Laura. So far, so good, but I also haven't come face to face with a pastry or block of cheese since I started, so I don't know the real extent of my will power yet.

I have also been building a list of "Things I Can't Stand" which I hope to share soon. Though I feel as though it may never actually be complete, I can at least post it as a work in progress. As a teaser, I'll you that it includes holiday ties and nervous laughs.

There has also been a more generous than normal crop of weirdos on the metro that I'm mentally filing for an upcoming round up.

Stay tuned...

You Know What Happens When You Assume...

2010-03-28T18:38:00.005-04:00

Everyone knows the old saying about when you assume. However, during my time in Spain there are a few assumptions that I've learned are pretty much always safe to make. I've broken a few of them down for you below:

What you see: The sidewalk is wet
What you can assume: Urine

What you see: A group of over-dressed, dolled-up, noisy girls
What you can assume: American study abroad students

What you see: A dog pooping on the sidewalk
What you can assume: Owner will not be picking it up

What you hear: Loud cheering, chanting and singing
What you can assume: Barca just scored

What you see: Shady character on the subway/rambla/street
What you can assume: He would like to take your money/possessions. Preferably without your knowledge but he could really go either way

What you see: An ingredient on a menu that you don't recognize or understand
What you can assume: Ham

What you see: Any type of pastry involving chocolate
What you can assume: Delicious

What you see: A smiling girl walking down the sidewalk giving a wide berth to shady characters, puddles and dogs, while clutching a chocolate-filled pastry
What you can assume: Me

Word To The Mother

2010-03-19T09:19:00.007-04:00

My mom has worn a lot of hats in her life. Daughter, sister, wife, mother, friend. Secretary, paralegal, Red Cross volunteer. But one of the things she's always wanted to be was a college student and graduate. As one of eight children, her parents weren't in a position to send her to college, so after highschool she began working.

Then she met my dad and soon after that became a mom and for a long time that was her full time job. I've often heard the story of when my mom tried to go back to work when my brother and I were very young. She dropped us off with the neighbor who would watch us all day and as she drove away the two of us stood in the doorway, holding hands and watching her car disappear. She cried the whole way to work and when she picked us up and we asked "Mom, why did you leave us here?" She replied "I don't know, but I'm not going to do it anymore."

Once we were all older and in school all day she went back to work, which my brother and sister and I benefitted from . I remember going on special trips or doing other fun things and my dad saying, "Thank Mom because she saved her money from work to pay for this."

Now that her kids are all grown up, it is finally time for her to do something for herself. She is currently kicking ass and taking names in her first full time college semester. It is such a delightful role reversal to get emails about how well she's done on a test or the good feedback she received from professor. I've always loved and admired and respected my mom, but I love the added pride I have in her for going after what she wants, giving it 100 percent and reaping the benefits.

I know she is going to go on to wear many more hats in the years to come, including a college graduation cap. And while she is going to continue to excel in the world of academia and beyond, I know that, for me, the most important lesson is one she taught. My mom has taught me what it is to be a mother and what kind of mother I hope to be some day, and that's a lesson you can't get in a classroom.

London

2010-03-14T18:09:00.006-04:00

Though it took two different planes and three take-off attempts to get there, and then a cancelled flight home and an extra night in the Gatwick airport Hilton, I had a great time in London last weekend.

The first plane that was supposed to take us there had a problem, forcing us to turn around 15 minutes into the flight and return to the airport. Many people got off that plane rather than wait to see if the problem could be fixed. Many others stood in the aisle, cigarettes dangling off their bottom lips, waiting to see if we'd be allowed off the plane long enough for a smoke. My friends and I sat in our seats formulating our Plan B for a night out in Barcelona in the event we didn't make it to London. We did make it to London, just six hours late.

Big Ben

We saw many of the big sites in London and I enjoyed hearing English spoken on the street, particularly in British accents. It was strange not having to mentally rehearse what I'd say before speaking to someone and feeling confident that I was definitely speaking in the correct tense.

Westminster Abbey

I did, however, get a little mixed up language-wise when we went to get shawarmas on our way back from the bar Saturday night. I ordered my usual- it's so usual for me to get this in Barcelona that I ordered it in Spanish. My friends kept trying to tell me that the guy behind the counter spoke English and didn't understand me. So ingrained in me is my standard shawarma order, though that I couldn't keep it in my head to just ask in English and our time in the shop was punctuated by my shouts of "Sin picante!" and "Ternera!!" Somehow I ended up with what I was looking for so it was all good.

Buckingham Palace

In Kensington Garden

That wasn't the end of the language confusion. We met some French people who didn't really speak any English. I've been taking French classes but unless they were asking for directions or numbers I couldn't really converse. My friend who is from Argentina tried to make introductions in her limited French. She said "Je m'appelle Sofi." Great. Then she tried to ask their names and said, "Y tu? Como te je m'appelles?" We didn't talk to them for long. I actually spent most of the time in their company sipping water trying to relieve myself of the hiccups. At least you hiccup the same in every language.

Tower Bridge

London is a really cool place and I hope to get back to check it out a little more thoroughly in the future. It's a big city and we definitely didn't get to explore too much in the short time we had, although I am now quite familiar with the layout of Gatwick airport.

Houses of Parliament and a glimpse of the Thames

Kensington Palace

Icy Statue in Trafalgar Square Fountain

The National Gallery in Trafalgar Square

Michelle Came to Visit!

2010-03-03T18:26:00.008-05:00

I had another great visit from a friend last weekend. My college friend, Michelle came from Thursday to Monday morning. We packed a lot into the short trip and had tons of fun.
She arrived at 8am on Thursday and I was happy to break my rule of not waking up during single digit hours to pick her up at the airport. We pretty much started the sightseeing right away, stopping by Montjuic and the Olympic stadium before I went to teach a lesson and she took a nap.

After my lesson and some lunch we went to see Sagrada Familia then Michelle accompanied me to my classes. She got to see two of my favorite classes. First, the group of 19 kids ages 3-7 who I play games with in a gym. She also got to see my favorite part of that class- the gym teacher.
Next was the seven year old class, where I caught Michelle nodding off once or twice. She assured me that it wasn’t that my teaching was boring, but that she was already pretty clear on what day comes after Saturday.

We went right from there to get some drinks and tapas, where we were treated to complimentary glasses of cava, pretty much just because “it was a beautiful night and we were beautiful American women.” Nice.

Then back to my neighborhood for the Sants bar crawl, which included our regular spot, Ca La Maria. This is a fave thanks to Jordi, the manager, who welcomes new faces by trying to stick his tongue in their mouth. He grows on you.

That night saw the beginning of my signature pose of the weekend. Due to a cold sore that popped up on Wednesday (which I was told wasn’t noticeable but which felt to me like a pulsing, red goiter on my lip, fiendishly winking at anyone who looked at me), I adopted a neck swiveling reflex every time I saw a camera appear. Like here:

Or here:

You’d think I’d forget about after a few pints and just be normal, right?
Nope.

We even tried to tempt the little guy out of hiding with some paella.

He wasn't so easily fooled.

Despite my affliction, we had so much fun, ate great food, saw the sights and got to catch up, which was the best and most important part for me.

Miracle Worker I Am Not

2010-02-22T16:46:00.003-05:00

In addition to teaching adult and baby classes at a language school, I also do private, in-house tutoring for individuals. I teach a pair of super-smart brothers, and an Italian woman who’s English is probably better than mine. And then there's Aleix. Sweet, awkward, slow Aleix.

Aleix is 14 years old and has been studying English since he was about six but it seems the language has just never clicked for him. His pronunciation is almost as good as most of my four year olds.

So I was really excited last week when his parents told me that he'd gotten back the first English exam he's taken since I started working with him and his grade was a big improvement over past tests. I was excited until this week, when his mother showed me the exam and I saw that his grade was a 10.5 out of 30. "What-uh, what were your grades before, Aleix?" I asked. "Umm, ford o fibe," he answered.

A big part of the problem is that the tests are all translation, and his spelling is horrible. The teacher gives them a sentence in Catalan and they write it in English- not really the best way to learn. One of the sentences he showed me that he'd translated read as follows (this is not exaggerated):

What hai cat mi her the peoples make funni at mi.

I can't speak or really read Catalan to see what the original phrase was, so it took us about seven minutes to realize that the sentence was:

When I cut my hair people made fun of me.

In another section he had to translate individual words. There was one we had trouble figuring out, he's spelled it:

Desenvolupeitit

Major points for anyone who figures it out before I tell you....

...still not sure?...

....Developed

Clearly my work here is not done.

40 Days and 40 Nights

2010-02-16T10:10:00.004-05:00

So, I realized that today was Fat Tuesday and that if I was going to give something up for Lent, I had better decide pretty quickly what that would be.

For the past five years or so I've consistantly given up chocolate, which is difficult, but I get through. I decided this year that I'm going to give up chocolate and bread. This may prove to be pretty difficult seeing as:

1) Eating is one of my favorite things to do and these are two of my favorite things to eat

2) I live in a place where there is a bakery on every corner selling fresh baked bread and delicious chocolate filled pastries

3) My roommate works in one of said bakeries and has access to a constant (free) supply of said bread and chocolate filled pastries

However, seeing as the most difficult part of my life these days is making sure I wake up early enough to get a walk in before going to work at 4pm, I figured I could use a challenge.

Also I've caught a few glimpses of myself lately that make me wanna vom.

Friday Night Line Up

2010-02-13T08:33:00.003-05:00

Some random interactions with people from yesterday:

I was sitting down on the metro ride home from work. To my right sat a disheveled, sickly looking girl determinedly munching her way through an entire sleeve of Chips Ahoy.

To my left was a couple standing up and leaning against the side of my seat. There were three things that bothered me about them:
- The guy was carrying the girl's purse, not just holding it for her while she did something, he
was straight up carrying it all around
- The girl was wearing a Canadian tuxedo and the jacket had an elastic band around the
bottom
- While simultaneously trying to 1) keep his balance 2) hold the purse and 3) make out with
his girlfriend, the guy almost elbowed me in the eye socket about seven times

This experience was later negated when I met some German guys at a bar. One of them continually pointed out that Germans are not always serious and that they "love to have fun and make party all the times." This was emphasized by a little dance move reminiscent of John Candy's "Polka Twist" in Home Alone.

I told him I could not stay out very late because I had to work in the morning. He asked "which o'clock" I had to wake up at. I told him 8 and he said that meant I could make party until 5.

I made party until 3:30 but then I had to pack it in.

This Week in Teaching

2010-02-03T17:18:00.002-05:00

It was an interesting week teaching English to the people of Spain. This week:

- A four year old slyly looked down my shirt while I was kneeling in front of the group and then turned to one of the other boys and told him loudly that he could see "las tetas"

- I had a spit ball land on my pant leg during my already tense theater class. If those kids didn't know the phrase "Are you kidding me!?" before, they do now

- During a music-based lesson, one student performed all the choreography to "Thriller" which segued into me explaining what the song "Billie Jean" was about through a series of stick figure drawings on the black board

- An adult student asked me what the expression was for when a man was trying to have sex with a woman. I mentally filed through about fifteen different possibilities and how to explain them before I realized the one he was looking for was "to hit on"and breathed a sigh of relief

Bum Bum Bum Ba Da Bum Bum

2010-02-01T09:59:00.004-05:00

I have both "Under Pressure" by Queen and "Ice Ice Baby" by Vanilla Ice in my iTunes. It's always a weird moment when I have iTunes on shuffle and I'm in another part of the apartment so for the first couple notes of the bass riff I can't tell which song it is.

I always stop whatever I'm doing, and swivel my head in the direction of the computer, like a hunting dog picking up a scent, with the urge to run over and assess the situation.

I usually stay still, though and wait it out for the two to three seconds it takes to realize which song is playing. You know, the tell tale "tsch" after the "bum bum bum ba da bum bum" that so sets Ice Ice Baby apart.

If it turns out to be Under Pressure I go about my business, if it is Ice Ice Baby, I'll most likely go change the song. For some reason, though, I don't remove it from my library. I think I like that it keeps me on my toes. Although I'm not entirely sure how it got there in the first place. I can't imagine any time in my life when I'd spend $.99 to purchase it...

Sara Came to Spain!!!

2010-01-30T12:21:00.008-05:00

Thanks to Continental airlines and Xanax, my good friend and former roommate, Sara visited Barcelona this past week, and it was so so much fun. It was her first time in Spain so I was determined to show her a good time and I think it was pretty successful.

We saw all the major sites of the city, like Tibidabo, Parc Guell, Sagrada Familia, various Guadi buildings, Las Ramblas and of course, the famous Irish pub in Port Olimpic that has generated so many of my fun memories here. But, as expected, the highlights of the trip weren’t so much the sites of the city but the general silliness that usually accompanies any Sara/Ali outing. Some of the best moments from this visit are as follows:

- Meeting a new friend from Belgium named Jacob. Sara thought it was polite to call him

by his native pronunciation of the name, which sounds like Yah-kub, and proceeded to

say his name to punctuate pretty much every sentence she said in his presence

with our buddy, Jacob

- We went to a bar/club with a DJ and Sara approached him to request a song. He said

he couldn't oblige her requests for the likes of Justin, Britney, Gaga or Kanye. Since I’d

been there before I knew the golden ticket to get the crowd going. I leaned across the

DJ booth and asked in my best “English with a Spanish accent” for him to play “Meester

Yones.” He nodded and a few minutes later, Sara got to see how the youth of Barcelona

really gets down- to early nineties alternative rock by the Counting Crows

- Sara’s new thing is taking videos on her camera and she captured some amazing moments

on video- such as my tough love style of friendship, when you can hear me saying

forcefully “Sara, put your camera away and get out your metro card, now…Sara, put the

camera away, put it away now!”

- We made a quick stop in a shot bar one night. As we were trying to decide what to order,

Sara spotted people doing a flaming shot, and as she exclaimed “They’re doing a shot

that’s on fire!” I just shouted repeatedly at the bartender, “Algo con fuego!!!” Luckily we

had a Spanish friend with us who was able to successfully order us some pretty cool shots

that involved a half an orange peel filled with alcohol, set atop a shot glass then set aflame.

- In another video you see some enthusiastic men jumping around and dancing. Sara’s

narration reports that “these are Irish guys, dancing to some Irish song.” I broke it to her

later that the Irish song the guys loved so much was called “Human” and it was by The Killers

- She put me in my place about music later, though, when she informed me that she was

relatively certain that she had been the first person in Akron, OH to discover Nelly. I

asked where she’d discovered him, to which she replied “The radio.”

drinks on her last night in town

- While there were so many great things to see in the city, one of the most fun nights was

spent hanging out at my apartment listening to our favorite songs from our days as

roommates and rapping as only suburban white girls can. Some of our best numbers

include “Gold Digger,” P.I.M.P. and the Nelly Remix of N Sync’s “Girlfriend.” The videos

of this will not be shared in a public forum of any kind.

rapping, obv

Transportation Retardation

2010-01-18T17:23:00.003-05:00

I may have gotten a little too used to driving while I was home for the holidays, because I've had some issues with the metro since my return to Barcelona.

On Friday night I needed to take the metro to teach a private lesson across town, close to the school where I teach most of my classes. I had a ten ride metro card, which I thought had two rides left on it. Since I usually go out assuming I'm going to get pick-pocketed, I only take what I really need so when I left I didn't grab any cash or credit/debit card to take with me .

When I put the card into the slot and walked through the turnstile, the machine showed that I had just used the last ride.

Shit.

I was tight on time as it was so I had to go straight to the lesson and couldn't go back to my place to get money for a new card. After the lesson I looked in my little change purse to see if I might have enough to buy a single ride ticket. A single ride is €1.40. I had €1.32.

Shit!

I was about a 1.5-2 hour walk from my apartment, and not entirely sure how I to get there on foot. Once the lesson was finished, I wandered around the metro station like homeless person, looking for change on the ground or in the ticket machines. I called Laura, mainly to laugh about the situation since there wasn't anything she could do. She said I should ask someone for money but I could not bring myself to do that. Finally I decided to go over to my school on the off chance my boss was still there at 8:30 on a Friday night.

Thank God for the rare European workaholic.

She was on her way out but she was still there. She gave me a single ride metro card she had but at the last minute, gave me ten cents too, just in case. It was a good thing she did, since the card she gave me didn't work. I had visions of one of the coins slipping from my fingers and rolling beneath the ticket machine, but the transportations gods smiled on me and the trip went smoothly.

I got home, got my debit card and went down to buy an unlimited monthly card.

Then on Saturday night, on my way home at around 6am, when again entering the metro turnstile, I managed to slide my card into the seam of the machine right above the card slot. My friends tried to help get it out but it was really wedged in there. A guard noticed me staring, glassy-eyed and helpless at the machine and was able to open it up and fish the card out for me.

I'm thinking of trying to do more walking from now on.

"Welcome to America, Here's Your Gun"

2010-01-14T05:15:00.003-05:00

In one of my adult classes this week, half the students did not attend. Thus, the ones who did were able to cajole me into having, instead of a grammar lesson, a two hour chat session about whatever struck their fancy.

One of the things we talked about was my trip home for the holidays. In talking about the US, some of their ideas and preconceived notions about America and Americans came out that surprised me. According to what they know from movies and TV:

- Most Americans live in New York City
- Pretty much everyone has a gun
- The majority of men drive pickup trucks
- There is a hot dog cart on every corner of every street in the country
- There are many, many farms with many, many cows

This led to me telling them what people in America thought of Spain and Spanish people. I told them that many Americans probably didn't know a whole lot about Spain at all but the ones who do think that:

- They drink a lot of wine
- They eat dinner late and stay up late
- They take a long break in the middle of the day
- They don't work too much

They conceded that this was a fair assessment and we moved on to a discussion of favorite vacation spots.

Peace Be With You

2010-01-11T17:54:00.003-05:00

In an email to me today, my mom mentioned that she learned she had not gotten a job she'd interviewed for editing the parish bulletin for her church. She followed that statement with a hearty "WTF?!"

I replied with an indignant "What the HELL?!"

I can't imagine why she didn't get the job.

Back in Barca

2010-01-11T10:49:00.002-05:00

I'm officially back to my life in Barcelona. How do I know? Well, I watched TV and movies on my computer, I'm typing with chilly, numb fingers, I have laundry hung out on clotheslines to dry and I am dreading teaching my disobediant and hyper theater class on Wednesday.

You know how else I know I'm back? I went for a walk today and saw no fewer than three beautiful fountains and multiple gorgeous buildings, I'm eating fruits and vegetables again, I got an enthusiastic welcome back head nod and smile from my buddy who works in the convenience store downstairs and I sat in a cafe yesterday and read about the Spanish royal family in a gossip magazine while sipping cafe con leche.

Mission Accomplished

2010-01-06T11:51:00.004-05:00

I have certainly been remiss in my blogging over the past couple of weeks, but I'm not sorry since I've been having too good a time with friends and family to sit down and write anything.

It has been a great visit and I've gotten to do and see and have pretty much everything and everyone I wanted...well, I haven't done any people, that was misleading, perhaps not the best way to phrase that. In any event, it's been fun.

Some of the things I was most excited about and got to do are the following (you'll notice something of a correlation to the post I wrote about what I miss about the US):

- I ate multiple Wawa hoagies and other delights

- I got to meet and hold my cousin Jen's new baby

- I had Haagen Dazs Chocolate Chip Cookie Dough ice cream, thanks to a late-night sojourn by Jackie and Andrew

- I played shuffle board at my Uncle's bar

- I drank Yeungling and requested about $15 worth of songs on the juke box at Tierney's in Montclair

- I went to the spa with my mom, sister and sister in law and got a massage

- I sang Karaoke with my cousin in front of several family members and other bar patrons

- I slept to my heart's content in my super comfy bed in Sea Isle City

- I got a guitar for Christmas and bought a book to learn how to play it

- I went grocery shopping with my Dad, which has been one of our 'things' since I was about 6 years old

- I got to see just about all of my best friends (and I really am one of the luckiest people ever in that I actually do have about five best friends)

- I helped decorate the Christmas tree

- I just got to be silly with my brother and sister

- I played some slots in Atlantic City

- I rubbed my pregnant friend's belly and helped construct the crib for the baby

- I visited Coyne PR and hung out with my old colleagues

- I went to see a show at the UCB

- I wrapped presents and cuddled with my sister

- I ate a few slammin Greco family weekend breakfasts

- I got to be home

Q&A

2009-12-23T02:02:00.003-05:00

I have been back in the states for almost a week now, although it feels like less than that since I've been all over the place. It is great seeing people and catching up and I am flattered that everyone is curious about what's going on with me. I do, however, seem to be answering the same questions many times. I thought maybe if I put the answers here, some people who read this will skip those questions and go right to topics much more interesting than me, such as the new health care bill, Tiger Woods' infidelity, or, I don't know, what they had for lunch that day.

So here are the answers to the most common questions.

- Yes, I cut my hair. In November. I just felt like it was time for a change.

- Spain is great.

- Yes, I love Barcelona, I'm having a wonderful time. It's a very cool city.

- Yes, I teach English. At language school. Various ages and levels, from three years old to adults.

- No, I'm not fluent in Spanish but it has improved since I've been there. I do need to work harder on it though.

- No, I don't have a Spanish boyfriend. The Spaniards don't seem to fancy me, but I'm a hit with vacationing Irishmen.

- No, I'm not staying forever. I'm planning to return to the US at the end of September, 2010.

- No, I'm not planning to teach when I get back to the US.

- Yes, I've traveled a little bit. Dublin, Sevilla, and a few towns about an hour or two train ride outside of Barcelona. I'm hoping to travel more when I go back and am probably going to Paris in May.

-Yes, in fact I have been eating more cheese and pastries than is normal or healthy, why do you ask?

Sevilla, Que Maravilla

2009-12-15T09:41:00.004-05:00

Exactly six years ago I was preparing to leave for a semester abroad in Sevilla, Spain. This was to be my first trip to Europe and I had a feeling it was going to be a life-changing experience.

Here I am now, six years later, living in Barcelona and I just returned from my first visit to Sevilla since I left in May of 2004. Obviously it turned out to indeed be life-changing, since it inspired me to up and leave a pretty great life in the states for an unknown existance across the ocean.

I need some time to gather my thoughts about revisiting my favorite city and will be posting more about it shortly. In the meantime, here are a few general scenery pictures:

Torre de Oro (Tower of Gold)

Rooftop garden in Barrio Santa Cruz

Fountain outside the Alfonso XIII Hotel

Plaze de Espana

Old Ali "Prop Comic" Greco, Ladies and Gentlemen

2009-12-08T16:57:00.012-05:00

I was putting pictures up on Facebook the other day and one of them was of me wearing a random hat I must have grabbed from someone. The caption I wrote said that someday I will learn to resist the urge to put on every wacky hat I see but that today was not that day. It made think about just how true it is that I cannot see a hat or prop of some sort without picking it up, putting it on, and usually not letting it go until I've been photographed.

I'm not sure why this is but see for yourself below, it's like a "through the years" of obnoxiousness.

Miss. v. missed, miss·ing, miss·es: To feel the lack or loss of

2009-12-04T17:20:00.006-05:00

I can't believe it, but I'm going home in less than two weeks for a little holiday vacation. Getting so close to being there and seeing everyone is making me think about what I've missed most while I've been here and what I'm looking forward to seeing, doing and having. In no particular order:

- Wawa hoagies

- Bubble baths

- Overhearing (and understanding) people's weird conversations in public places

- My parents. Straight up.

- A heated home

- Häagen-Dazs Chocolate Chip Cookie Dough ice cream (they have Häagen-Dazs here and they have other cookie dough ice cream, but not Häagen-Dazs Cookie Dough- I don't get it)

- Sunday morning Greco family breakfasts

- Calling my sister whenever I want- usually about the most random things

- Yuengling

-Clothes dried in a dryer

- Sea Isle City

- Chinese food and wine in Montclair on Friday nights

-All my wonderful friends, who, now that I have to cross an ocean to see them, I realize I didn't see nearly often enough when we shared a continent

- Talking in my Levittown voice

I'm On a Boat!

2009-12-01T06:23:00.003-05:00

I think everyone needs a standby place where they know they can go to just have a good time, no matter what. For me and some of my friends here, that place is an Irish pub in a touristy part of the city (totally un-Barcelona, but it’s a guilty pleasure).

One of the best adventures here involved a pair of ruggedly handsome Croatian yachtsmen. Their names were Christian and Ivan and after we shared a few drinks with them, they invited my friend and me to take a tour of their boat. At 5am and after several giant glasses of Heineken, it didn’t seem at all out of the ordinary to respond “Sure, why not? I’ll go with you relative strangers to an unknown destination surrounded by deep dark water.”

What we saw was definitely worth the risk (which turned out to be non-existent). Their boat was a giant, beautiful luxury yacht. With a dining table for ten outside on the main deck, hardwood floors, plush white carpeting, comfy furniture, flower arrangements and vases full of decorative stones; which always strike me as fancy simply because they are completely devoid of purpose.

We had to take off our shoes and stow them in a cabinet, we were handed bottles of Perrier, we were even shown the owner’s bedroom closet (he wasn't there), which contained about nine baseball caps with the boat's name embroidered over the brim and three Tommy Bahama shirts. I guess when you’re that rich and just hanging out on your yacht, you don’t need pants.

My friend actually found the boat online. You can check it out and see some pictures here:

http://www.charterworld.com/index.html?sub=yacht-charter&charter=inclination-1335

The guys were nice, the boat was cool, but the joke possibilities were endless, and I think that was my favorite part. A few favorites were:

- Calling Christian (the captain) Cap’n Crunch- which was mostly funny because he didn’t get it

- Telling people the next day that the captain let me sit in his chair and check out his equipment (ba dum bum)

- Insisting that they use the stars to find their way from the bar to the boat instead of taking a cab

- Exclaiming that we needed to abandon ship when we decided it was time to leave

- Followed by “Yeah, let’s go, I’m aboard”

- Too many references and questions (on my part) about the captain’s power to perform a wedding- it probably caused more discomfort than humor

- Referring to Ivan (the first mate) as Tennille

Creature Comforts

2009-11-22T19:05:00.004-05:00

There are several little things about living here that are different from the life I lived back in the states and they still take a little getting used to.

For example- we don't have a microwave. The other day I was craving lasagna, so I bought a little frozen one and was so looking forward to it until I realized it was for microwaves only. That wasn't so hard to deal with, though. I wrenched it out of the plastic tray, put it on a plate and heated it in the oven and it was still quite tasty.

We also don't have a TV. Well, we do, but we don't have it plugged in or hooked up because most of the TV here is not even in Spanish, it's in Catalan, so neither Laura nor I would understand it. Not really a problem there, either, thanks to the wonders of the interwebs. As long as you have the patience to give shows time to load completely don't mind occasional Japanese subtitles, it's great.

The other thing is that we have a washing machine, but not a dryer. We have five clotheslines outside on our little terrace to hang up laundry to air dry.

So far this has been fine as it hasn't been too cold yet. However, I did go out today to bring in my sheets and found that a bird had pooped all over them.

I don't have a solution or redeeming element or happy ending to this one. That just sucked.

Super

2009-11-17T19:43:00.004-05:00

When people ask you what super power you would like to have, I usually answer either the power to be invisible or the ability to read minds. I think it's based on the fact that I'm both very nosy and very curious about what people really think of me (call it self-absorbed, self-conscious, whatever) so I'd like to hang out unobserved whether in actual rooms or in people's minds, just to check things out and see what I'd learn.

I had never imagined that I might possess an actual super power, but I'm starting to think I do. Not unlike the plot of the mediocre-at-best date movie Good Luck Chuck, starring Dane Cook and Jessica Alba, I think I might possess the power to help people find the the love of their life.

Am I a sassy, no nonsense matchmaker? No. A precious little cupid pushing people together? Nah. An Amelie wannabe, tinkering with people's lives to help them fall in love? Not so much.

I do, however, seem to have an uncanny ability to casually date or get somehow involved with guys just as they're about to get really serious with someone else.

Exhibit A: Two years ago. We'll call him Ken. A friend from college for whom I'd always had a soft spot. He'd broken up with his girlfriend recently, but of course I wasn't going to go there, it seemed like it would be too awkward and sticky. But then we hung out one night and he tried to kiss me, so I kissed back (what would you have done?) In all fairness, I assumed it was just a rebound and didn't think too much of it. I figured the time wasn't right, but thought maybe a few months down the road we could pick up where we'd left off. A couple weeks later we're at a party and one of my girlfriends tells me how Ken was confiding her that he was feeling pretty good about his break up because he'd realized he'd always had feelings for this girl he'd known for a while and was going to make a move. You guessed it- not me. I didn't really enjoy the rest of that party.

Exhibit B:
A year and a half ago. Let's call him Billy. We met out in NYC on a Friday night, hit it off right away and talked all night. He was visiting from Virginia for the weekend so we met up again the next night too. We exchanged information and talked daily for the next month. My birthday was a few weeks after we met and he was the first person to call and wish me a happy birthday. We even talked about one of us coming to visit the other. I thought it was going great. Then one week I stopped hearing from him quite as frequently, so I stopped reaching out as much and sure enough, a week later his all important Facebook relationship status had changed to "in a relationship." They're now married.

Exhibit C: A month ago. I'll go with Jake on this one. Met while I was on vacation. We hung out almost every day I was there. He brought me to hang out with his friends after work. We got along so well and had lots of fun. He seemed intent on staying in touch right after I got home. Then we didn't talk for a couple weeks and just yesterday, again, the fated Facebook relationship status change. Along with sickeningly cute messages posted to his wall from the sickeningly new pretty girlfriend. I have since removed him as my friend.

Clearly it's entirely possible (and by entirely possible I mean absolutely true) that rather than having the power help people find their true love, what I actually have is a horrible ability to choose what men to be interested in. But "super power" just sounds so much better than "bad taste."

Proof

2009-11-16T09:17:00.003-05:00

In case you didn't believe me- here are some action shots my boss took for the school's Facebook page...

Unfortunately she didn't get any of me with the really little ones but I'll just have to take those myself.

Today in Barcelona

2009-11-13T15:43:00.004-05:00

Today I saw a man fall off his bike. Like hard core, splat, ate pavement. Morally it wasn't a funny thing, but visually it was hilarious.

I also passed one of my students walking down the street with his grandmother. I was going to say hello but then I thought she might be creeped out by someone greeting her grandson by name and then not being able to fully understand or clearly answer her questions about why and how I know him. Also, he tends to keep to himself and looks kind of like the title character from the movie Willow, so he's not one of my favorites or anything anyway.

What I've Learned So Far

2009-11-09T15:36:00.003-05:00

So I've been here about two months now and have really enjoyed myself. I have also learned a lot. Here are some of the things I've learned since I've been here:

- People weren't exaggerating when they warned about the pick pockets and purse snatchers
here

- Lentil soup is really easy to make

- Children are pretty similar no matter what country they're from or language they're speaking

- Unfortunately, so are creepy old men

- A wedge of Brie cheese only costs 90 cents here

- There are a lot of ways to use Brie cheese

- There are even more ways to use ham

- Irish men see nothing wrong with commenting on a woman's breasts in the same manner one
would compliment a hairstyle or necklace

- Apparently I have some pretty flattering bra and shirt combinations in my wardrobe

- When you run a language school, it is more important that the children have fun than actually
learn anything

- Being fun doesn't come as easily to me as I would have thought

- If you live above a bar, you don't need to watch soccer games on TV to know exactly what's
happening throughout the game

Can't wait to see what else I learn during my time here.

Bark-A-Lounger

2009-11-02T18:49:00.004-05:00

Tonight I saw one of my favorite Barcelona sights yet. It wasn't a Gaudi building or Picasso or a beautiful fountain.

It was a on the sidewalk in front of a restaurant. A tiny Chihuahua resting atop the back of a Collie, relaxing there as though it were a microfiber sectional.

Sadly I did not stop to take a picture as I was running late for a lesson, and that is truly one of my greatest regrets of my life here so far.

I can only hope that they belong to someone who works at the restaurant and that I'll find them there like that again so I can capture the image.

A Church, Some Rides and Chocolate Sandwiches

2009-10-31T08:51:00.002-04:00

It goes without saying that there are endless beautiful, amazing sights to see here in Barcelona, but undoubtedly one of the coolest places I've seen so far is called Tibidabo.

It's a church and amusement park sharing the top of a mountain in the city. They are literally right next to each other. The church is gorgeous inside and out- I declared that I wanted to get married there and follow the ceremony with a ride on the roller coaster.

In addition to the beautiful church, incredible views of the city and fun rides, I think my favorite part of Tibidabo was seeing a mother give her children sandwiches that consisted of a baguette sliced open, filled with a bar of chocolate and then pressed together and handed over. How did I never know, or think of on my own, the concept of a Hershey bar sandwich?!

Here are some pictures...

You take an old timey cable car tram up a big hill and pass some really cool houses and buildings on the way.

After you get up the hill, you take this car (they call it a funicular railway) straight up to the top of the mountain.

When you get off of the funicular railway, this church is right in front of you, but all you hear is the sounds of rides and squealing children asking for cotton candy.

This is the amusement park- this picture is taken from the steps of the church.

There are amazing views of the city from up there.

Stop, Thief!

2009-10-24T23:15:00.004-04:00

I don't believe I've ever had a premonition before, but I think I might have had one tonight. While getting ready to go out, I was putting things into a clutch bag and for some reason decided not to bring my whole little wallet with my debit and credit cards. Instead, I just tucked some cash and my ID into a pocket of my purse along with my requisite lip gloss and gum.

I told Laura on our way to the metro that I wasn't taking my debit card with me, "I just have a bad feeling about tonight, I feel like we're going to encounter a purse snatcher," I said. She said she'd wished I had told her that before we left the apartment but then we went on our way and forgot about it.

Cut to several hours later and we were walking with my friend from school toward the metro through the old gothic quarter (at 4am, our first mistake, and speaking English, our second mistake). The three of us were walking on the sidewalk, I was closest to the buildings, Laura was closest to the street and my friend was in between. Suddenly, I heard my friend from school shout a not nice name at someone. By the time I turned my head, she was running across the street after a man in a white jacket and Laura was running after her. I took off after them and we ran for several blocks after the thief.

Eventually she lost him and we started to think about what we should do. Then a girl rode up on her bike, took one look at us and asked if we'd just been robbed. We said yes and she offered to ride around the block and look for the thief or any belongings that might have been dropped.
Amazingly, she returned about 90 seconds later with my friend's wristlet, though empty and with the strap broken.

She offered to show us around the area where she'd found the bag and we actually found her keys and chapstick on the sidewalk. No sign of her phone, which I called repeatedly, hoping someone would answer so I could attempt to curse them out in broken Spanish, or her debit card, which she'll have to cancel and reorder.

The girl on the bike then walked us to the metro and along the way pointed out people who she said were thieves; I don't think I've ever clutched a clutch as hard as I did on that walk.

Unfortunately, this is just a part of life in Barcelona. As careful as you think you're being, you never know when someone is going to pop out of nowhere and throw a wrench into you're life; all for 30 euros and a cell phone.

I was struck though that, at the same time as something was happening to chip away at your faith in humanity, someone came along to build it back up and, for me at least, that will be the more lasting impression of this night and this city.

More Barcelona Sightseeing

2009-10-23T14:06:00.003-04:00

I was out walking today and saw a few things that struck me as interesting and/or disturbing.

1) I saw groups of old people playing bocce ball on sand courts outside of a park. I thought this was so sweet until I noticed that behind the balding head of one of the players was a large, blue, penis spray painted on a wall.

2) While crossing the street I noticed a guy carrying a long white ferret in the crook of his arm. It creeped me out but at the same time, he held it like he really cared about it so I guess it's ok.

3) I noticed a young guy waiting at a stop light who stuffed four mini chocolate frosted doughnuts in his mouth without chewing once...I can't really get mad at that though, I'd probably do it too if I could.

For F@#k's Sake!

2009-10-21T18:16:00.005-04:00

I have finally caught up on sleep enough to sit down and write something about my trip to Dublin. Put simply it was lovely and if I had it to do over again I wouldn't change a thing.

We got a wonderful welcome in the form of the cab driver who took us into the city from the airport. He wasted no time in telling me I was a "f#cking redneck" after I told him where in Ireland some of my family comes from and he then called me that about nineteen times throughout the 30 minute cab ride. He also used my two favorite Irish phrases: "shite" and "for f#ck's sake," which I repeated constantly throughout the trip, attempting to perfect my accent and delivery.

We visited everything we wanted to see, including the various pubs and sites recommended by friends who'd previously visited the city. Some of these included The Brazen Head, which is Ireland's oldest pub, St. Stephen's Green, St. Patrick's Cathedral, The Guinness Storehouse, The Jameson Distillary and a tour of Wicklow, which took us out of the city and into the gorgeous country.

I learned how to pull a pint of Guinness (and after that one try can probably do it better than any bartender in Sea Isle- not that that is saying much) and got to be one of the whiskey tasters at Jameson, in addition to getting a complimentary drink, so I tottered out of there quite happy.

We got some great exercise on the trip to the country- particulary the three times I thought the bus was leaving without us and began to run after it, only to have Laura point out that it was merely turning around to make re-boarding easier for the passengers.

Here are some pictures from the trip:

Outside the oldest pub in Ireland

First pint of Guinness in Ireland

Concentrating hard on pulling the perfect pint

Legit fish and chips

Frightend of the three shots of whiskey in front of me...and the man to my right who was something of a loose cannon

In St. Stephen's Green I think

Right near where they filmed PS I Love You...I guess this means I have to see that movie now

This reminded me of our old house in Pennington where we had the sheep across the brook from our backyard. I wasn't as tempted to chase these sheep though.

Cathedral

That's Miss Ali To You

2009-10-08T14:41:00.007-04:00

As much as I like to be right, I don't have a problem admitting when I'm wrong. So I can say that I may have been wrong in my last post. It was written after four straight hours of researching jobs and sending out resumes and was rather heartily tinged with self-pity.

Well, the day after I wrote that I got a call around 3pm from someone who'd recieved my resume asking if I could come in to teach a class that night. Cut to three hours later and I was singing Old MacDonald while a group of four year old Spanish faces gazed up at me and tried to sing along.

That must have gone well because the next day I found myself teaching an 8-12 year old theater class all in English. The goal of this class is to put on a condensed and sure to be stilted production of West Side Story (but with great accents for the Sharks...and the Jets too, I guess...and Officer Krupke...).

Today I was told I'd be teaching a class at an elementary school where I just had to play games with about 11 kids between 4-7. The class ended up being 19 kids and some of them looked like they probably still wear Pull-Ups at night and on long car rides. My main goal with them wasn't to get them to say "hello" or "goodbye" but just to keep them calm enough that they wouldn't cry or pee themselves.

After that was a small class of seven year olds where I had a staring show down with one of the girls who rolled her eyes and wouldn't respond when I spoke to her. By the end of the class she was singing The Wheels on the Bus at the top of her lungs and doing hand gestures with gusto so I guess I won.

I am now signed up to teach these classes once a week from now until June so it will certainly be an adventure and, if it doesn't kill me, should provide some great stories.

Help Wanted: Americans Need Not Apply

2009-10-05T12:56:00.004-04:00

Ok, so my grand plan for living in Spain for a while is contingent on finding a job so that I can support myself with some modicum of comfort while I'm here.

When researching the teaching scene and TEFL certification, everyone tells you that it is relatively easy to find a job and that nobody cares if you're not legal. Obviously it's worked for them and they want you to come spend your money on their programs. I think the program has been great but I'm starting to get a little worried that the job market may have been slightly oversold. I've just started to look over the past week but it looks like this market is no different from the rest of the world in having been affected by the economic bed shitting of the past couple of years.

It seems that schools and businesses care a lot more about you having legal European working papers than I'd previously heard. It's strange to experience what it is like to be an illegal alien trying to get by in another country. You know what you're capable of but something totally irrelevant to your abilities keeps you from practicing and supporting yourself. It sucks.

I'm going to do my best to use my networking and PR skills to sell my "brand," if you will; but if it's an issue of being legal or not, I don't think I can sweet talk my way around that. I'm sure I'll find something eventually, I just don't deal well with not having something lined up to go right from one occupation to another- I was handing out legit business cards at my college graduation party.

Keep your fingers crossed for me!

Yeah I'm A Jerk, I'm Fine With It

2009-10-02T13:08:00.002-04:00

I was sitting on a bench waiting for the train today and a guy standing on the platform dropped his sweater as he was walking away. I saw it and a lady standing on the platform saw it. We both kind of looked at and at him to see if he'd noticed- he didn't.

Just then his train was came and it pulled in pretty far down so he started running toward it. I still just sat there, looking from his sweater to his diminishing form. It was like I was one of those people who is in surgery and wakes up but not enough to tell the surgeon they can feel everything that's happening. In my head I was saying, go get the sweater and run after him, but I continued to sit there. The woman finally picked it up and chased him down and I'm assuming she got it to him in time.

As this was all happening, the thought crossed my mind that it would be such a great story if I chased after him to give him his sweater and then we fell in love, but the thought immediately following that was "eh, he's not that cute though." And thus I concluded that I am an awful person.

I felt better later though, when I stopped in the convenience store on my street and saw a mother dressed in clothes that looked like they came from Wet Seal or Deb, holding a smoldering cigarette, buying for a 40 oz beer (at 4pm) and showing every piece of candy to her toddler saying "you want this? how about this one?"

Hello, Dali

2009-09-27T16:34:00.007-04:00

I went to the Dali' Museum in Figueres, Spain yesterday and it totally blew my mind. I can't even put it into words so I thought I'd post a few of my favorite pictures.

...oh, I guess should have mentioned that I can't put things into pictures very well either, but I tried.

My Mom Says I'm Cool

2009-09-14T15:48:00.005-04:00

I had my first day of TEFL class today. It was a weird feeling, a first day of school, and something I haven't experienced in four years.

It's so funny how that nervous feeling never really goes away, no matter how much you mature and change and develop confidence in yourself as a person and a student.

It always takes me a while to warm up in these situations. I never want to be the person who is overly enthusiastic and friendly to the point of looking desperate. I worry though, that in trying to look like I'm not trying too hard, I end up coming across as aloof or standoffish. Usually once I get a chance to speak to people one on one I'll start acting more like myself but I worry that the first impression I make is that I'm snobby.

This isn't all in my head, either. I mentioned in this post that my best friend from high school thought I was a snob the first day of school. It's not because I'm a snob though, it's because I get nervous and don't think straight and let things come out of my mouth that don't sound right.

That first day of ninth grade, when the teacher was taking roll, she said to let her know if we had a nickname of choice. My turn came and rather than saying the obvious "you can call me Ali," I said in a loud voice with clearly enunciated words, "I prefer Ali." Doesn't sound weird now but in a room full of fourteen year olds, it didn't say "I'm cool, you want to be my friend" either.

So what did I say today to establish myself as the nerd of the class? Well we had to go around and use alliteration to associate an adjective with our name to help the class remember it. What's the first thing that pops into my head and out of my mouth? Adventurous? Awesome? Oh no, friends. How about acrimonious?

I don't think anyone remembered my name because they were too worried about how to pronounce my adjective. Hopefully they all forgot it before they got the chance to look it up and find out that not only am I the class nerd, but also the self-proclaimed class bitch.

Sightseeing Update

2009-09-12T14:30:00.003-04:00

From our balcony we can see into the window of one of our neighbors across the street. We learned this just in time to watch him cleaning his kitchen in a Speedo.

Sightseeing

2009-09-12T04:47:00.003-04:00

Yesterday was my first full day in Barcelona. I spent the earlier part of the day exploring my neighborhood and the later part checking out more of the city with Laura and finding my school (which happens to be across the street from the beach).

Some of the highlights I saw were:

- The Mediterranean Sea

- A man with his head completely shaved save for one glossy brown ringlet on the side of his
head which was tied with a pink bow

- Two trannies on the subway

Euro Post #1

2009-09-10T13:28:00.011-04:00

I'm here, I made it! I am writing this from the office in my Barcelona apartment! As I'm typing I'm listening to car horns, children playing and old ladies shouting down from their balconies.

The trip went pretty smoothly and having my friend (and now roommate) Laura pick me up at the airport was a huge help.

I've only been here a matter of hours but I've already unpacked and seen more handsome men than I can count.

I still need to get some things and move some things around but here are a couple of pictures of my room and the view from my apartment balcony.

I haven't gotten picture frames yet but I wanted to put up some photos of friends and family so I just taped them to my closet for now. How much do you want to bet they will stay there until I leave the place?

The window doesn't actually look at at anything but a wall, but it's still nice to have one- and that way I don't have to worry about closing the blinds.

There was an extra bed frame and I wasn't sure what to do with it, so I stood it up against the wall and hung my scarves and purses on it- I for one think you'd be hard pressed to tell the difference between that and a fall accessories display at Urban Outfitters, don't you?

We'll have to see see how long I can handle the twin bed before heading to Ikea for a bigger one.

Our apartment is on an alley way; this is the view of the main street from the balcony, along with a red truck that honked its horn for 8 and a half minutes.

And this is the rest of our street. You can't really see her too well but there is an old lady hanging a white sheet out to dry. I hope to befriend her before too long so as to recieve baked goods and sweets and maybe the occasional pat on the head.

I'm going to get out and explore the neighborhood tomorrow; tonight I'm so tired from flying overnight that I'm worried I'll get lost and flustered in front of my new neighbors and lose all potential street cred here.

What I Did on My Summer Vacation

2009-09-07T11:19:00.003-04:00

I gained 12 pounds. This is why:

This is our 3am after-bar buffet. Don't be fooled, eventually it will catch up with you.

Niner

2009-09-05T10:36:00.003-04:00

It's countdown time; only a matter of days now until I leave.

I was talking with my family last night about my flight out and we realized that I am leaving at 9pm on 9/9/09 and I'll be gone exactly 99 days before I fly home for Christmas on December 17th.

Weird, right?

I hope that's a good sign...

Goodbye, Cupcake II- For Real This Time

2009-09-01T23:23:00.004-04:00

A while back I wrote this post about the disappointing so-called "grand reopening" of one of my favorite Montclair establishments, Gimme Jimmy's cookies.

What could be worse than going there and finding the sweet treats you love altered in size, presentation and flavor? Going back three months later hoping they've read your blog and come to their senses and instead finding the entire business gone.

That's what happened tonight. I went to dinner with my former roommate, who I guess I can now just call my friend, and we decided to give GJ's another shot. Perhaps they'd gotten feedback from loyal locals who wanted the fun designs and loads of icing back. We walked down Church street and realized early on that something was amiss.

There were no tables and chairs outside; the name wasn't on the awning; there was no gentle light in the windows or sweet, yeasty scent wafting from the open door.

There was, instead, an empty, darkened room with a "For Rent" sign in the window.

Gone.

My own personal baked good heaven, gone.

It is indeed a dark day for frosting lovers of Northeast... or at least Essex County New Jersey...or at least residents of downtown Montclair...really I'm just pretty sad.

Mazel Tov!

2009-08-21T13:26:00.010-04:00

A week ago today I was in Pittsburgh helping my best friend from highschool, Beth get ready for her wedding. I've reached that age where all my friends get married and pretty soon I'll reach that age where they all start having babies. While I'm not there myself (my dad observed that I actually flinched away from the bouquet when it was thrown to the single ladies), I do take an immense amount of joy in these major milestones for my friends.

This wedding ceremony took place in the gorgeous Heinz Chapel on the University of Pittsburgh campus. The only drawback of a summer wedding in such an old building is the lack of air conditioning. At one point I thought I might actually pass out when I stood up to do a reading but I yelled at myself to get it together, took a deep breath and was fine.

Since the groom was Jewish they had some of those cool traditions like stomping the glass. I think shouting "Mazel Tov!" after he did that was my favorite part of the ceremony since, honestly, how often do you get to shout in church?

They also did the thing where they lift the bride and groom up on chairs at the reception. That as so fun and I was able to capture some of it on video.

I was so glad that my parents could come, since they've known Beth since we were both super awkward freshmen in high school.

I actually alluded to that in my toast at the reception. We didn't like each other the first day of school, she thought I was snobby and I thought she was weird. By the third day, though, it was like we'd both just accepted that despite our differences, we were destined to be great friends.

The Weather is Here, Wish You Were Beautiful

2009-08-17T14:51:00.003-04:00

I flew to Pittsburgh this past weekend for one of my best friend's weddings (more on that later) and had a few interesting travel experience that I thought were worth sharing.

1) At the Philadelphia airport I was in line for security and in my 7am daze was glancing at everyone around me. My gaze landed on one of the uniformed security personnel, mostly because he was young and handsome, which is a departure from the ornery middle aged women you often see checking IDs and boarding passes in Philly. We briefly made eye contact and then I went back to staring straight ahead. Next thing I knew, he was right in my face, glaring saying "You eyeballing me?" My eyes bugged out and I choked out a "what?" and he said again, "You eyeballing me?!" My mouth hung open and I just stared- and then he laughed good naturedly like it was a great joke and walked away. I was pretty awake after that.

2) Dustin "Screech" Diamond was in front of me in line going through security in Pittsburgh. He was not flying first class and he did not look good.

3) I had a shuttle service pick me up from the hotel to take me back to the airport and was told they would arrive at 3:10. I was climbing into the van at 3:11 (there was a bank across the street with a digital sign, so I know that was definitely the time) and there were already a couple of people in there. I sat next to an old woman with long, stringy grey/blonde hair wearing what looked like a black and yellow plaid caftan with a vest over it. We didn't interact at all through the beginning of the trip and I put my headphones on and listened to my iPod.

When we pulled up to the next hotel and the driver got out to let the new passengers in. The woman looked toward me and said something I couldn't hear except for "20 minutes."

I took out one earbud, "Excuse me?" I said, not sure if she was talking to me or just talking to talk.

"Looks like we won't have to wait here for 20 minutes like we did for you," she spat out.

There was a time in my life when I would have flushed red and stammered out an apology and felt uncomfortable for the rest of the ride. I don't know when the change in me occurred but this time, in this situation, I looked her in the eye and said quietly and calmly that I had been told I was being picked up at 3:10 and that is when I was there and that I was sorry if she had to wait but it was neither my fault nor my problem.

Then I turned away from her and replaced my earbud. She responded by putting on her own headphones and we stayed on our opposite ends of the bench seat for the rest of the trip. I spent the remainder of the ride thinking up come backs for the venom I was sure she was going to spit at me when she exited the van but alas, none came.

I was almost disappointed because I really wanted to say one of the things I'd thought of. I pictured her getting out of the car, turning around and saying something along the lines of "go to hell," or "I hope your plane crashes." To which I'd reply "Send me a post card from obscurity."

Wired

2009-08-04T22:47:00.006-04:00

Before I became a (pseudo) grown up, I spent a number of summers working at a coffee shop at the shore called Coffee.Comedy. In case the name doesn't give it away, it is a coffee shop, Internet cafe and comedy club in one. Is your mind blown yet?

Anyway, since I am down the shore again I told them I would help out sometimes if need be, which turned into two, sometimes three nights a week. As it happens, my sister is working there this summer as well and since she is away this week, I am filling in all her shifts. This has allowed me to see many a beach goer in all their morning glory, and today's 7:30am-1:30pm shift featured some of my favorite customer interactions so far this summer. They included:

- A very large man leaning farther than necessary over the counter to order his coffee, then looking at the selection of baked goods on the counter, saying, almost to himself "hmm, should go healthy today," then louder to me, "what's this, pound cake? I'll try one."

- An older, confused-looking man who asked me, "are there any internets available right now?"

- An aggressively jovial, effeminate man who was there with what appeared to be his wife. She approached the counter ahead of him, ordered the coffee and asked if we had honey to put in one of the lattes and I told her we did. He then bounded up beside her a few seconds later, practically hopping from one foot to the other saying "Do they have honey, honey? Honey, is there honey, honey?" to his wife.

Then to me before she had a chance to answer, "Any honey, do you have honey for my coffee?"

"Yes," his wife and I answered in unison.

"Oh, where is it? Where's the honey, honey?"

I replied slowly, enunciating each word, "It is over there, on a shelf" I said pointing. "And I will give it to you shortly, after I make your coffee."

He wife snickered, but he was unperturbed by my sass and skipped down to the end of the bar to wait.

If I'm Not Wearing a Bathing Suit Today I Might As Well Eat Cookies

2009-07-23T16:12:00.007-04:00

It's a rainy day at the beach. I had planned to get some work done in the morning and then spend most of the day on the beach; so it's right on par that it would rain all day.

But rainy days can be nice too, here's what we did since we had to stay inside:

Chocolate frosted marshmallow cookies. I saw the recipe a little while ago on Cookie Madness and sent it to my mom right away. I know she loves chocolate and marshmallow so I thought it would be nice for us to make them together sometime. Today was a perfect day for it.

Take Me Out to the Ball Game

2009-07-21T21:50:00.014-04:00

Last night I went to a Philadelphia Phillies game with my dad, something I have done every year for the past 20 years. Through awkward adolescence, too cool teens and busy college years, my enjoyment and eager anticipation of this has never wavered.

As we were sitting there I started thinking how comforting it is that, whatever else has changed in our lives, this never has. My dad still talked with the other guys in the row about who should be traded while I dipped my soft pretzel in tepid cheese sauce and thought about whether I wanted ice cream or cotton candy. He still took the time to patiently explain to me why everyone was cheering or booing and still gave me an enthusiastic high five when a Phillie hit a home run.

I love knowing that, however old I am, when we go see the Phillies, I'll be his little girl; from when he would buckle me into the backseat at six to texting me last night about where to park because I was meeting him there in my own car. He'll still give me my pick of games for the season, wait for me outside the ladies' room to guide me back to our seats and buy me ice cream with extra jimmies.

Last night we talked about when I went to a game when I was six and my dad offered to leave halfway through the game and I said no thank you, I wanted to stay the whole time. I mused that it was probably because I figured the longer I was there, the more treats I would get. I still like to stay for the whole game now but it's not for the food anymore- when you're on a date with a great guy, you never want to cut it short.

Count Down

2009-07-19T22:45:00.003-04:00

So, in less than seven weeks I am going to be boarding a plane and flying to Barcelona to start a new chapter in my life. Obviously this is very exciting, intimidating, exhilarating, scary and a host of other adjectives. Everyone who knows about this trip asks me about it pretty frequently and I actually surprise myself with the sort of lackadaisical manner in which I've been responding. "I'm excited, it'll be cool," I'll reply to enthusiastic inquiries about my trip, or "No, I'm not worried, I'm sure I'll be fine."

I don't really know why this is. I am absolutely excited and think this will be an incredible experience, but for some reason, I'm just very blase' about it right now. Maybe it's just because I get asked about it so frequentl. I can't sustain a high enough level of enthusiasm for every person who asks. It's like when you go out the night before Thanksgiving the first few years after graduating high school and have the exact same conversation with 28 people from your class who you don't really care very much about. "Yeah, I'm at <>, I'm majoring in <>. Dude, did you see how fat <> got?!"

Or at your college graduation party when you answer the same questions from extended family and friends about your plans. "Well, I'm taking the summer to figure out what I want to do. Yes, I know real adults don't get summer vacations. No, I don't want to be a teacher so I guess this will be my last summer off. No, I hadn't heard about how successful your kids are, please tell me."

Maybe when it gets closer, maybe when I have the address of where I'll actually be living or when the other two big dates on my summer calendar (my friend Beth's wedding and a couple events for work)have passed and this is the only thing on the horizon, then it will really sink in. Although maybe it will be good if it doesn't; the blase' attitude could certainly help me fit in with the Catalans.

Fairytale Wedding

2009-07-17T00:29:00.004-04:00

My brother's wedding was Saturday and it couldn't have been lovelier. I was so happy for them and had so much fun. I don't even have any jokes or snarky stories about it, it was just a beautiful and fun three days (rehearsal, wedding, next day brunch).

I can't wait to see all the pictures and see the entire wedding video. You can see a teaser highlight reel here: http://www.dvideography.com/theater/?phpMyAdmin=461c49f0ae4ct2773281f

You can see how oddly short I am compared to other humans here (yeah, wearing my heels here):

This is Why We Can't Have Nice Things

2009-07-08T21:58:00.002-04:00

My car was in the shop yesterday having the brakes replaced. Since I am at my parents' house right now, my mom said I could drop her off at work and then take her car to run errands during the day.

I was pretty excited about this since she just got a BMW convertible over the winter and it was a perfect, beautiful day to drive around with the top down. So I take off for my first appointment of the day, top down, sunglasses on, hair blowing in the breeze.

When I was about five miles from my destination I noticed some darker clouds appearing and the wind kicking up. "Don't tell me it's going to rain," I thought. Sure enough, a few drops started to fall. I was able to pull over before it really rained and put the top up, which is pretty easy, you just push a button until the roof stops moving and making noises. I drove through the little storm pretty quickly, though and then it was sunny again.

I made it to my appointment and after it was over I had a call for work. I wouldn't have time to get back home so I set up my computer in passenger seat of the car and put the top down to get some air while I worked.

When I finished it looked like it could rain again before long so I started the car and pushed the button to put the top up- nothing. I pressed the top down button to make sure it was really down and then pushed the top up button- still nothing.

I turned the car off and re-started it and pushed the button again- no dice. I called my mom to see if there was some trick to it that I'd missed. She had nothing for me, it hadn't worked for her once before, in January (I didn't ask why she'd had the top down in January in the first place) and it turned out it had shorted out.

In case that's what had happened this time, she suggested I take it to the dealership which, luckily, was only a few miles from where I was parked. I tried it one more time and then drove to the dealership. By drove I mean I made about seven K and U turns in my attempt to get where I was supposed to be going since I have pretty much the worst directional sense ever.

I finally got there, frustrated and windblown and they sent a technician out to look at the car while I sat on a bench outside of the service office door. After only two minutes someone drove the car up to where I was waiting, the top securely up.

"What was wrong?" I asked. "Nothing, I just pushed the button and it went up," the guy replied.

"Really? Cause I pushed it a few times and it didn't work."

He didn't even answer, just demonstrated the functioning hood, pressing the buttons to send it up and down, twice each and it worked perfectly each time. It was as though he didn't even want to acknowledge my idiocy with words.

I wanted him to know that I realized I looked silly, "well, I'd rather I look stupid than there be something wrong with the car," I said with a laugh.

"I know, right?" he replied with a smirk that said that he did, in fact, think I looked stupid.

Then I got in the car and proceeded to turn around three times in the parking before going out the entrance.

When I went to pick up my mom, she went to get in the passenger side. "Oh no," I told her, putting it in park and getting out, "I'm done, you can drive it the rest of the way."

I'll stick with uncomplicated, hard-topped Honda from now on.

And a Partridge in a Palm Tree

2009-07-05T22:38:00.006-04:00

I just completed the first week of my new life living at the shore. For anyone who doesn't know, I'm taking the summer to live at the beach and spend time with my family before I move to Barcelona in September (more on that later I'm sure).

I wrote something last summer about all the random food that could be found in our kitchen here. Well, while prowling around during the week here I realized that this doesn't just apply to the kitchen; the randomness spreads throughout the building.

Of course there is the requisite junk drawer in the kitchen with things like a flexi-straw with three plastic Santa Claus heads on it, a picture of my dad and his brothers circa 1977, five golf pencils, a broken wind chime, a box of long matches and a 1992 Philadelphia Phillies yearbook.

But then there is the drawer in a bureau that is stored in what we call the "bonus room" on the first floor, basically an extra family that we use for storage and playing drinking games. The top drawer of this chest contains a book about John Adams, a wiffle ball and a figurine from a box of Red Rose tea in the shape of a goose.

The drawers of the two end tables in that room have several pictures of my family from the late '80's, the empty packaging from some sort of lighter and other various animal figurines from Red Rose tea boxes.

There is also a small table in the entryway- that drawer contains five keys of varying sizes and a purple bouncy ball, the kind you would get from a machine at the grocery store.

Right now I am sitting in the kitchen and the counter directly across from me is like a still life of our beach existence.

There are:

- two ears of corn (cause, you know, someone might want some at any given time, best to keep it handy)

- a jaccuzzi owner's manual topped with an awkward photo of myself, my mom, my brother and my sister all wearing sunglasses (taken indoors...at night)

- a sleeve of Solo cups (best way to transport margaritas to the beach)

- a set of walkie talkies (for communicating from the beach to the house- mainly for the purpose of requesting drinks and snacks)

- an iPod doc/radio (for cooking music)

- little plastic cocktail cups (these are better for taking wine to the beach)

- some paint brushes in a jar (they are probably just still there from a touch up job done weeks ago)

- a camouflage-patterned flask (probably left by a recent guest- and will probably stay there until that person returns- or be relegated to the depths of the junk drawer)

Also, next to me on the counter is my sister's ID card from our 1994 season passes to Sesame Place.

I guess this is just what happens when you live in a place that is meant for vacationing.

I'm Awkward, I'm Awkward and Shy- A Tribute

2009-06-26T02:02:00.005-04:00

Tonight was my last night living with my roommate Sara in Montclair. To commemorate this occasion, we went out for a few drinks at Tierney's, my favorite Montclair bar.

While there, we reminisced about the great times we've had living together, and also the poor decisions we've made during our time as dynamic duo; particularly in the arena of young men.

We started discussing how amazing it would be if the guys we regretted knowing were to show up tonight in a parade of our bad choices. This parade would include characters such as:

- Oscar, the bald-headed, over-eager guy posing as a buddy in order to gain trust

- Dr. Erik, the chiropractor living at home who specialized in mixed messages

- Dan, the reformed alcoholic who drinks coke at bars and travels to dance competitions throughout North Jersey

-Sam, AKA Pastor Sam, who introduced himself as a man of the cloth- yet another attempt to gain trust

- John*, who had this conversation confessing his affection for Sara:

John: "I really like you"
Sara: "That's nice"
John: "No really, I've had a crush on you for a really long time."
Sara: "Ok...Ali, can we go now?"

- Timmy G, The snow clearing master, hard to shake, yet convenient to keep arond in winter months

- Damian, Encountered at 30,000 feet but dropped due to his over-enthusiasm for intense work outs and tea

-Oakley, The a*hole to end all a*holes-'nuff said (if you know me well you know the story and no, I never heard from him again but I still hope to one day punch him in the face)

- Mike, the 30 year old vet's assistant, i.e. puppy nurse who could not read non-verbal cues, leading to the exclamation of this post's title

- Chris, random make-out from two years ago who was the only one in the parade who actually was there tonight, possibly fulfilling his destiny of marrying Sara one day

- Uncle Dougie, forty something sugar daddy who recently came into money and insisted on buying us "the most expensive shot the bar had to offer," whether it was something we wanted to drink or not

I am going to miss this place.

*name has been changed to protect identity