Although I am back in England, there is one story I keep forgetting to share from Italy. Before setting off on our long touristy trip, I decided I needed a nice, comfy pair of walking shoes. So obviously I went to Primark and bought £2.50 strappy sandals in both gold AND black. I regret nothing. They were fab, both classy and comfortable. My family and I have always said that if it were socially acceptable for me to walk around barefoot, I would be one with the earth and navigate through the toughest terrains with such ease, it would put a sherpa to shame. These shoes were as close as I was going to get to my potential.
What I particularly enjoyed however, was the lovely sound they made when walking on tile floors in museums. It was a flat, clapping sound that would make one want to hop up and down, or foot-to-foot to make a clap-clap-clap. AND I did this often.
At one particular museum in Rome, I noticed that no one was in the room except my Moth and Sean. I took the lead and began my slappity-slap dance, which soon caught on to Moth. Before I knew it, we were jamming hard to the outrageous beats that only we could hear in our heads. Sean completely ignored the entire process and continued to read the small inscriptions on old jars behind the glass. Mom did some unre Michael Jackson (RIP) moves while I stuck more to the foot shuffling of James Brown.
Then it happens. I hear a muffled giggle. My neck snaps left, only to see for the first time, a female security guard who was sitting IN THE ROOM but some feet away. I didn't make her when we came in because really, who sits in a chair on duty? She should probably be fired. Anyway, my face goes bright red, I burst into nervous giggles, and flee the room shouting at Mom to run. I think we probably made her day but I never returned to ask her, the shame was too great.
Monday, May 2, 2011
Tuesday, April 19, 2011
Tales from the Crypt
So the three of us were in a crypt filled with religious relics. Sean decided this was a perfect place to void his body of a little indigestion. So he discretely goes to a corner and releases a small gust of wind. I can see what he is doing from across the room but obviously (and thankfully) can't hear anything. Mom thinks, oh ya, Sean has found an area with the perfect acoustics for this, and proceeds to the same corner. Well, it didn't quite work out that way. Not only did it bounce of the walls and reverberate through the tombs, it lasted for about five minutes. As to not embarrass my mother too much, I won't say much more, but do watch this clip to understand what I heard. Start at the 20 second mark.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-AMgagxCvZQ
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-AMgagxCvZQ
Saturday, April 16, 2011
The day nothing was accomplished
Wednesday was THE most outrageous day I have had in a long time.
All morning we debated whether we should go on this bus tour of the Amalfi Coast which is described by many trip reviewers as, "a white-knuckle ride where you take your lives in the hands of the driver." Why were we debating this? Well because it was raining of course. However, once we had breakfast and got ready for the day (9 am), the sun was shining and the weather had turned around. I had on my Ugg boots and asked Sean if I should wear them. Direct quote for response, "I wouldn't if I were you, ugh, your feet won't get cold, wear something else." I wore flip flops.
As we get to the bus, it is packed. We have to stand and the next stop is 45 minutes away. It is hot, stuffy, and the woman sitting beside me says, "oh no I am not feeling well, it's too hot," and starts disrobing...even untying her shoelaces to slip her heels out of her hiking boots. Small side note, last week I was on a packed train with Em back to Putney and was fully vomited on by a small child. All down my legs and shoes, I was covered in purple chunks. I was not looking forward to repeating the experience.
At this moment it begins to pour rain. Everyone closes their windows and the bus becomes a muggy brew of sweat and condensation. This is also the point of the trip where we begin to enter the death gamble, which means the bus has to honk around every corner so we don't hit oncoming traffic, and we scrape against the guard rails keeping us from tumbling down the cliff. I will upload a video when I get back home, of the side door, which literally swung open everytime the bus took a curved left turn. A man switched spots with a young lady so she didn't fly out of the bus when this happened. It was terrifying, and I am standing.
After the first few stops, I was able to sit with Mom, while Sean stood the whole trip. The whole journey was an hour and a half. Once my feet hit solid ground again, it began to pour even harder, drenching my bare, flip-flop covered feet in ice-cold water, and soaking through my Spring jacket. We had to catch another bus to go further up the coast to Ravello. We just missed the second bus, so we had to kill time before the next one. We zipped through a church, then mom HAD to use the bathroom. I was not filled in on the plans, so all I see is Mom and Sean dart into a slum and Mom rushes to the bathroom. Sean proceeds to order a latte from THE most ridiculous cafe ever. My comment was that we are in a beautiful town, filled with elegant coffee shops, yet my parents pick what can only be compared to the Transfers Restaurant in the downtown Kitchener bus station. Naked pictures of women above the bar, plastic tables you have to stand around (no chairs), and locals who look like they lost the lottery of life.
Finally we board another bus, while I continue to shiver to myself in my cold-soaked clothes. We arrive in Ravello minutes too late, as everything closes at 3pm. It is still pouring rain and no restaurants are open again until 7. Again we hit another Transfers-like cafe but now we are surrounded by German tourists who are none too friendly or polite. We are there long enough to stuff something into our mouths before wandering the streets, looking for anything to do. The church we wanted to see was also just closed for the afternoon, so we had to venture into a crypt. By this point my toes were like icicles and I had lost all feeling from the ankles down. Don't know if you know this but crypts tend to be chilly. Who knew? Also, crypts tend to be small. So after about five minutes of exploring, we were done for the day. Yes a two and a half hour journey ends after thirty minutes.
We head back to the bus shelter to check bus times and one is to arrive in two minutes. It never shows...
At this point an aggressive taxi driver keeps approaching us asking to take us and three other French hikers down the hill for five euros each. At this point, we weren't having it, especially mom and I. Sean continues to be polite and all vacant smiles, but I am beyond rage. Five euros isn't a bad price, but we had an unlimited bus pass for the day, I am so cold I just want to get on the bus which is a sure thing, and just looking at the other tourists I begin to feel ill. They are decked out in full hiking attire with a ski pole in each hand, yet they are old enough to have been featured in the crypt we just visited. Their bodies are showing sure signs of decay and all of their noses are visibly running. We vehemently refuse the taxi man and he follows us along the railings of the cliffs. I can hear the French calling us cheap Americans in their mother tongue, and mom and I are snapping at the man. Eventually he backs off and one of the hikers pulls out an old pair of socks and puts them on his hands because he is so cold. Disgust.
The bus came an hour later. First, a bus arrived at the 45 minute mark and we all ran to it like zombies in for the kill. The hikers (who were really hard to fit into a category; on one hand they looked like they would be travel savvy with their poles, ponchos, and other gear, but on the other, they wore socks for gloves) ran behind the bus, even as it was backing up to turn around, nearly killing the lot of them. The driver opened the door and said "no cinque cinque." By now about 15 of us were waiting for this mystery bus and you could audibly hear our hearts all breaking as it drove off. The taxi man continued to badger us about the drive and how silly we were being for waiting for the bus.
Finally, our bus arrived and we pushed our way on. The hikers who were the most pushy somehow managed to be the last ones on and almost didn't get seats. I am not sure how that was possible, as they were pushing near the front of the line but maybe the collective hate the group felt for them, united us and we managed to stay strong enough to keep them aside.
We set off for the long journey back and by the time we pulled back into Sorrento, my toes were beginning to defrost. I wore Uggs the rest of the night.
What did we accomplish during this day? Here is a hypothetical conversation I will be having with someone who has visited the Amalfi Coast and Ravello:
Person: "So you went on the trip to the Amalfi Coast, did you see how scary the cliffs were?"
Me: "Well no, I had to stand and couldn't really see the windows then it rained so all the glass fogged up."
P: "Oh, that's too bad. So when you got to Amalfi did you eat at _________ the most famous dining place in the area?"
M: "Yaaaaaa... no, my mom really had to use the bathroom, so we stopped and had lattes in Transfers."
P: "Hmmm, well in Ravello did you see Duomo?"
M: "Well the funny thing is, we arrived after THREE when everything was closed! Ha!"
P: "...how about eating at the Vittoria Pizzeria? It's the best -"
M: "NO! We didn't eat there, we explored a crypt and after 30 minutes we went back to the bus stop to wait for an hour!"
P: "Hmmm that's a shame, you should really go back some day to see all that stuff"
Amalfi Coast/Ravello - 1, Thomas family - 0
All morning we debated whether we should go on this bus tour of the Amalfi Coast which is described by many trip reviewers as, "a white-knuckle ride where you take your lives in the hands of the driver." Why were we debating this? Well because it was raining of course. However, once we had breakfast and got ready for the day (9 am), the sun was shining and the weather had turned around. I had on my Ugg boots and asked Sean if I should wear them. Direct quote for response, "I wouldn't if I were you, ugh, your feet won't get cold, wear something else." I wore flip flops.
As we get to the bus, it is packed. We have to stand and the next stop is 45 minutes away. It is hot, stuffy, and the woman sitting beside me says, "oh no I am not feeling well, it's too hot," and starts disrobing...even untying her shoelaces to slip her heels out of her hiking boots. Small side note, last week I was on a packed train with Em back to Putney and was fully vomited on by a small child. All down my legs and shoes, I was covered in purple chunks. I was not looking forward to repeating the experience.
At this moment it begins to pour rain. Everyone closes their windows and the bus becomes a muggy brew of sweat and condensation. This is also the point of the trip where we begin to enter the death gamble, which means the bus has to honk around every corner so we don't hit oncoming traffic, and we scrape against the guard rails keeping us from tumbling down the cliff. I will upload a video when I get back home, of the side door, which literally swung open everytime the bus took a curved left turn. A man switched spots with a young lady so she didn't fly out of the bus when this happened. It was terrifying, and I am standing.
After the first few stops, I was able to sit with Mom, while Sean stood the whole trip. The whole journey was an hour and a half. Once my feet hit solid ground again, it began to pour even harder, drenching my bare, flip-flop covered feet in ice-cold water, and soaking through my Spring jacket. We had to catch another bus to go further up the coast to Ravello. We just missed the second bus, so we had to kill time before the next one. We zipped through a church, then mom HAD to use the bathroom. I was not filled in on the plans, so all I see is Mom and Sean dart into a slum and Mom rushes to the bathroom. Sean proceeds to order a latte from THE most ridiculous cafe ever. My comment was that we are in a beautiful town, filled with elegant coffee shops, yet my parents pick what can only be compared to the Transfers Restaurant in the downtown Kitchener bus station. Naked pictures of women above the bar, plastic tables you have to stand around (no chairs), and locals who look like they lost the lottery of life.
Finally we board another bus, while I continue to shiver to myself in my cold-soaked clothes. We arrive in Ravello minutes too late, as everything closes at 3pm. It is still pouring rain and no restaurants are open again until 7. Again we hit another Transfers-like cafe but now we are surrounded by German tourists who are none too friendly or polite. We are there long enough to stuff something into our mouths before wandering the streets, looking for anything to do. The church we wanted to see was also just closed for the afternoon, so we had to venture into a crypt. By this point my toes were like icicles and I had lost all feeling from the ankles down. Don't know if you know this but crypts tend to be chilly. Who knew? Also, crypts tend to be small. So after about five minutes of exploring, we were done for the day. Yes a two and a half hour journey ends after thirty minutes.
We head back to the bus shelter to check bus times and one is to arrive in two minutes. It never shows...
At this point an aggressive taxi driver keeps approaching us asking to take us and three other French hikers down the hill for five euros each. At this point, we weren't having it, especially mom and I. Sean continues to be polite and all vacant smiles, but I am beyond rage. Five euros isn't a bad price, but we had an unlimited bus pass for the day, I am so cold I just want to get on the bus which is a sure thing, and just looking at the other tourists I begin to feel ill. They are decked out in full hiking attire with a ski pole in each hand, yet they are old enough to have been featured in the crypt we just visited. Their bodies are showing sure signs of decay and all of their noses are visibly running. We vehemently refuse the taxi man and he follows us along the railings of the cliffs. I can hear the French calling us cheap Americans in their mother tongue, and mom and I are snapping at the man. Eventually he backs off and one of the hikers pulls out an old pair of socks and puts them on his hands because he is so cold. Disgust.
The bus came an hour later. First, a bus arrived at the 45 minute mark and we all ran to it like zombies in for the kill. The hikers (who were really hard to fit into a category; on one hand they looked like they would be travel savvy with their poles, ponchos, and other gear, but on the other, they wore socks for gloves) ran behind the bus, even as it was backing up to turn around, nearly killing the lot of them. The driver opened the door and said "no cinque cinque." By now about 15 of us were waiting for this mystery bus and you could audibly hear our hearts all breaking as it drove off. The taxi man continued to badger us about the drive and how silly we were being for waiting for the bus.
Finally, our bus arrived and we pushed our way on. The hikers who were the most pushy somehow managed to be the last ones on and almost didn't get seats. I am not sure how that was possible, as they were pushing near the front of the line but maybe the collective hate the group felt for them, united us and we managed to stay strong enough to keep them aside.
We set off for the long journey back and by the time we pulled back into Sorrento, my toes were beginning to defrost. I wore Uggs the rest of the night.
What did we accomplish during this day? Here is a hypothetical conversation I will be having with someone who has visited the Amalfi Coast and Ravello:
Person: "So you went on the trip to the Amalfi Coast, did you see how scary the cliffs were?"
Me: "Well no, I had to stand and couldn't really see the windows then it rained so all the glass fogged up."
P: "Oh, that's too bad. So when you got to Amalfi did you eat at _________ the most famous dining place in the area?"
M: "Yaaaaaa... no, my mom really had to use the bathroom, so we stopped and had lattes in Transfers."
P: "Hmmm, well in Ravello did you see Duomo?"
M: "Well the funny thing is, we arrived after THREE when everything was closed! Ha!"
P: "...how about eating at the Vittoria Pizzeria? It's the best -"
M: "NO! We didn't eat there, we explored a crypt and after 30 minutes we went back to the bus stop to wait for an hour!"
P: "Hmmm that's a shame, you should really go back some day to see all that stuff"
Amalfi Coast/Ravello - 1, Thomas family - 0
Thursday, April 14, 2011
Slip through the cracks
We arrived in Italy without any problems on Monday, which also happened to be my birthday. I upgraded my phone package so I am able to receive calls, messages, go on the internet, etc. so I was able to see all of the people who wished me a happy birthday on FB. Unfortunately, my blackberry is basically one of the original models and has almost the same capabilities as Zack Morris' phone and won't allow me to check facebook messages. This caused me to be in a hump for most of the day as my so-called best "friends" hadn't said happy birthday. As I am about the write a nasty, childish email, I get wi-fi on my laptop and low and behold, they have all private messaged me. Woops.
Anyway, on to the travels. We arrived in Sorrento and played it low key for the first night. On Tuesday, we thought we'd venture to Pompeii to see the city that was dominated by the eruption of Mount Vesuvius. Things to note about Pompeii:
1. It is in fact a city. Although it is an archaeological cite, it is nearly as large as Stratford and walking around it is like walking through an entire city of 20 000. This was NOT an hour journey.
2. Between "important" areas, there are just rows and rows of old houses that are basic squares. Once you've seen one, you've seen them all.
3. Italy is hot.
4. Italy is a country known for great thinkers, cartographers, and historically wise individuals. Apparently the current map designer for Pompeii was not one of those individuals and definitely had slipped through the cracks. The map given to us to follow was as if they took a chimp from a zoo through Pompei once, returned him to his cage, and asked him to paint where he thought places were on the walls of his confinement in shit. I pride myself in having a great sense of direction, yet we could not manage to find anything. Not only that, but we had an audio-guide to punch in numbers when we arrived in specific places, yet there were no numbers labelled in the areas. Therefore you had to assume you were where you were supposed to be, punch in the numbers and listen to what the place was all about. More than once I heard "you are now looking at the great columns made of limestone..." only for me to actually be looking at a barren field and some trees.
5. When something was actually labelled and noted as important, it was locked up so you couldn't go into that specific house or area. Unsure as to why, but possibly something to do with it being free on the day we went because it was Rome heritage day or something like that.
After nearly four hours of wandering and randomly stumbling across most of the important cites, we called it quits. We checked the map one last time and were quite pleased that we saw 95% of what was scribbled down.
On the way home, Sean told me he was kind of disappointed with the cite as it was not what he expected. Mom agreed, they thought we would be seeing the preserved bodies of some of the victims and it's too bad they weren't there. (NOTE: my parents didn't make this up, it wasn't a pipe dream that they wished to have seen dead bodies, apparently when they researched the place, this was one of the highlights of the areas.) Sean thought maybe they had moved all of the bodies to Naples Museum, as they did with many of the other artifacts listed around the area.
When we got back to the hotel, Sean reread the map/information he had, and realized that the ONE room we didn't go to, was the area where all the bodies were. Brilliant. Here is the map where we hit almost 67 / 72 areas:
To the right, you can see a big square area (number 61) beside the giant circle (60). We missed the small rectangle two to the left (number 56).
I looked the bodies up online and it is almost as if I saw them in person. If you would like to pretend you saw something important in Italy too, please click on the link below:
http://www.google.com/search?hl=en&q=pompeii+bodies&um=1&ie=UTF-8&tbm=isch&source=univ&sa=X&ei=HrOmTfLxK82WhQeMncjFCQ&ved=0CCAQsAQ&biw=1259&bih=686
Anyway, on to the travels. We arrived in Sorrento and played it low key for the first night. On Tuesday, we thought we'd venture to Pompeii to see the city that was dominated by the eruption of Mount Vesuvius. Things to note about Pompeii:
1. It is in fact a city. Although it is an archaeological cite, it is nearly as large as Stratford and walking around it is like walking through an entire city of 20 000. This was NOT an hour journey.
2. Between "important" areas, there are just rows and rows of old houses that are basic squares. Once you've seen one, you've seen them all.
3. Italy is hot.
4. Italy is a country known for great thinkers, cartographers, and historically wise individuals. Apparently the current map designer for Pompeii was not one of those individuals and definitely had slipped through the cracks. The map given to us to follow was as if they took a chimp from a zoo through Pompei once, returned him to his cage, and asked him to paint where he thought places were on the walls of his confinement in shit. I pride myself in having a great sense of direction, yet we could not manage to find anything. Not only that, but we had an audio-guide to punch in numbers when we arrived in specific places, yet there were no numbers labelled in the areas. Therefore you had to assume you were where you were supposed to be, punch in the numbers and listen to what the place was all about. More than once I heard "you are now looking at the great columns made of limestone..." only for me to actually be looking at a barren field and some trees.
5. When something was actually labelled and noted as important, it was locked up so you couldn't go into that specific house or area. Unsure as to why, but possibly something to do with it being free on the day we went because it was Rome heritage day or something like that.
After nearly four hours of wandering and randomly stumbling across most of the important cites, we called it quits. We checked the map one last time and were quite pleased that we saw 95% of what was scribbled down.
On the way home, Sean told me he was kind of disappointed with the cite as it was not what he expected. Mom agreed, they thought we would be seeing the preserved bodies of some of the victims and it's too bad they weren't there. (NOTE: my parents didn't make this up, it wasn't a pipe dream that they wished to have seen dead bodies, apparently when they researched the place, this was one of the highlights of the areas.) Sean thought maybe they had moved all of the bodies to Naples Museum, as they did with many of the other artifacts listed around the area.
When we got back to the hotel, Sean reread the map/information he had, and realized that the ONE room we didn't go to, was the area where all the bodies were. Brilliant. Here is the map where we hit almost 67 / 72 areas:
To the right, you can see a big square area (number 61) beside the giant circle (60). We missed the small rectangle two to the left (number 56).
I looked the bodies up online and it is almost as if I saw them in person. If you would like to pretend you saw something important in Italy too, please click on the link below:
http://www.google.com/search?hl=en&q=pompeii+bodies&um=1&ie=UTF-8&tbm=isch&source=univ&sa=X&ei=HrOmTfLxK82WhQeMncjFCQ&ved=0CCAQsAQ&biw=1259&bih=686
Sunday, March 27, 2011
Manic Monday
I woke gradually out of my sleep feeling very rested. This sent me into a panic, because I never wake up for work feeling this way. I grab my alarm clock and see it says 6:44 am. I normally wake up at 5:45 to catch the 6:45 train into London. I rocket out of bed, throw my hair in a pony tail and start stabbing my eyes with mascara. I am throwing things into my bag and rushing as fast as I can. Then I remember the time has jumped forward an hour on everything but my alarm clock, so it is really 7:44 am, and I should be at school in 16 minutes. I completely lose it wondering how I could have slept through two alarms (clock and cell phone) and finish packing my bag. It's then that I see the map of the museum I was going to go to on Sunday. Hmmm...why didn't I go to the museum? What did I do instead? Oh riiiighhtttt, it IS Sunday, not Monday and I WILL still go to that museum today.
If it wasn't still Lent, I would have felt shame. I get back into bed and read for two hours to calm my pounding heart. I have already set my alarm clock for tomorrow, especially early.
If it wasn't still Lent, I would have felt shame. I get back into bed and read for two hours to calm my pounding heart. I have already set my alarm clock for tomorrow, especially early.
Trifecta
Friday night was unreal. A few of the staff went out for drinks after work and being is we normally can't control our laughter during a work day, a pub night was a gong show. One particular incident was a moment in my life that can never be recreated and its hilarity was brought about by fate - a perfect combination of timing and stupidity.
Rahela, Crystal, and I were at the bar having a conversation. We were physically close (Rahela was actually leaning on me for support) so there is no excuse for this level of miscommunication i.e. we can't say we couldn't hear each other, we just straight up weren't paying attention to what each other were saying. This is how the conversation went:
I initiated the talk - "Crystal what was that dance you had to learn in Australian schools? Hash nut brown? Brown hash nut? Nut brown? Brown hash? Hash nut? Hash... Jesus Crystal just give me a f****** hint here!"
*Background on this discussion, along with the Macarena, Kangaroo children had to learn a dance properly referred to as the Nut Bush by Tina Turner. This is the word combo I was looking for. At this moment, Rahela is staring into my eyes listening what appeared to be carefully and Crystal is shaking her head like "no" to all my attempts to get the name right, hence my explosion as I believed she knew where I was going with my line of questioning but just not helping me out.
Rahela then pipes up somewhere around my third attempt at the name, so talking over me and furthering my exasperation. All I hear her say is "VIBE!" And she does a "V" with her fingers.
*Background - Rahela thought the whole time I was asking Crystal's date of birth. She didn't know what it was so when she thought I changed the question to "What's your agency?" She responded correctly with Crystals agency name, "Vibe" and was excited she could participate in the conversation.
Crystal, who looks fully engaged with what both of us are saying, really wasn't listening to anything at all. She never heard the questioning or Rahela's VIBE explosion, only when we both looked at her expectantly did she realize we were waiting for her to say something and the last thing that entered her ears from a distant memory was "dance". She happened to say quite cooly, "Nut bush" and point her fingers at us.
Here is the perfect trifecta of ridiculousness. All occurring within a five minute time frame, three completely separate understandings of the dialogue falling from our mouths. At this realization, the three of us lose it and start laughing, Rahela and I more than Crystal. I can't actually contain myself and release my grip on the bar. This in turn causes Rahela, who is fully leaning on me to remain standing, rockets backward into the woman behind us, crushing her feet in sandals. I continue to laugh until two drops come out, and Rahela staggers back to the bar, still laughing. Crystal is the only one who notices the dagger eyes the woman is giving us. What I was surprised with is normally when I see a group of people laughing THAT hard, I can't contain my smile and kind of go along with them. This woman wasn't having it. She was a real stick in the mud, even with squashed toes.
The rest of the night was us bringing up how unreal the conversation was and how surprising it was that the dialogue managed to carry on for so long when all three of us were basically talking to ourselves. Nursery really has rubbed off on our communication skills.
Rahela, Crystal, and I were at the bar having a conversation. We were physically close (Rahela was actually leaning on me for support) so there is no excuse for this level of miscommunication i.e. we can't say we couldn't hear each other, we just straight up weren't paying attention to what each other were saying. This is how the conversation went:
I initiated the talk - "Crystal what was that dance you had to learn in Australian schools? Hash nut brown? Brown hash nut? Nut brown? Brown hash? Hash nut? Hash... Jesus Crystal just give me a f****** hint here!"
*Background on this discussion, along with the Macarena, Kangaroo children had to learn a dance properly referred to as the Nut Bush by Tina Turner. This is the word combo I was looking for. At this moment, Rahela is staring into my eyes listening what appeared to be carefully and Crystal is shaking her head like "no" to all my attempts to get the name right, hence my explosion as I believed she knew where I was going with my line of questioning but just not helping me out.
Rahela then pipes up somewhere around my third attempt at the name, so talking over me and furthering my exasperation. All I hear her say is "VIBE!" And she does a "V" with her fingers.
*Background - Rahela thought the whole time I was asking Crystal's date of birth. She didn't know what it was so when she thought I changed the question to "What's your agency?" She responded correctly with Crystals agency name, "Vibe" and was excited she could participate in the conversation.
Crystal, who looks fully engaged with what both of us are saying, really wasn't listening to anything at all. She never heard the questioning or Rahela's VIBE explosion, only when we both looked at her expectantly did she realize we were waiting for her to say something and the last thing that entered her ears from a distant memory was "dance". She happened to say quite cooly, "Nut bush" and point her fingers at us.
Here is the perfect trifecta of ridiculousness. All occurring within a five minute time frame, three completely separate understandings of the dialogue falling from our mouths. At this realization, the three of us lose it and start laughing, Rahela and I more than Crystal. I can't actually contain myself and release my grip on the bar. This in turn causes Rahela, who is fully leaning on me to remain standing, rockets backward into the woman behind us, crushing her feet in sandals. I continue to laugh until two drops come out, and Rahela staggers back to the bar, still laughing. Crystal is the only one who notices the dagger eyes the woman is giving us. What I was surprised with is normally when I see a group of people laughing THAT hard, I can't contain my smile and kind of go along with them. This woman wasn't having it. She was a real stick in the mud, even with squashed toes.
The rest of the night was us bringing up how unreal the conversation was and how surprising it was that the dialogue managed to carry on for so long when all three of us were basically talking to ourselves. Nursery really has rubbed off on our communication skills.
Wednesday, March 23, 2011
Lent
The problem with giving up shame for Lent is that Lent ends. Soon. Sooner than I had anticipated.
I thought this was a good move for me but now I am filled with the dread of the shame that awaits once Lent is over.
So for a late Humas resolution, I am giving up the dread of shame for when Lent ends, which ends me giving up shame for Lent. Wrap that around your mind J.J. Abrams.
Cheers to clean slates.
I thought this was a good move for me but now I am filled with the dread of the shame that awaits once Lent is over.
So for a late Humas resolution, I am giving up the dread of shame for when Lent ends, which ends me giving up shame for Lent. Wrap that around your mind J.J. Abrams.
Cheers to clean slates.
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