On Thursday night Ireland and I went over to M's flat for dinner. Unlike me, when she visits the UAE she takes a flat.
We were late, as usual, but M didn't mind because I brought her a box of Patchi chocolates. I'm not sure who makes them, but they are the best chocolates ever. Even I occasionally eat them, even though I'm not a huge fan of chocolate.
M made a salad that had a little baked goat cheese pie in the center. Then we had tuna, wasabi mashed potatoes, and asparagus. I got some looks from M and Ireland when I picked up an asparagus spear. I said "It's a finger food, you can look on the web" and M said "Someone needs to teach you americans how to eat properly".
Then we had a bottle of pink champagne. While it was good at the time, I woke up the next morning with a headache. We sat on the sofa and started planning our travel for next year. Ireland is going to take me to Ireland. And we are going to go to Stockholm to visit the Bouncer and his family.
I was telling them that I wanted to take surfing lessons for my birthday. M devised a plan where I would fly to Italy, and she and Ireland would hang out on the beach having wine while I surfed. I expressed some doubts that there is surfing in Italy, but M assured me there was. So, hopefully, that's what I'll be doing for my birthday next year.
Ireland fell asleep on the sofa, but M and I kept talking. Finally Ireland woke up, and we realized it was 2.30 in the morning. We took a taxi home, and I decided to stay in bed the next day until 11 am, then came into the office to get some work done. I spent the rest of the weekend in the office, and only spent 2 hours working on my book.
Hopefully my schedule will lighten up in the new year...
Saturday, December 19, 2009
Tuesday, December 15, 2009
egyptian, the sequel
There are a lot of idiots in the world. Somehow, they always seem to be attracted to me.
Today I had a very long day at work, and went to the gym as soon as I got home. I ran for a while, and then headed back to my room. I had to walk through this outdoor courtyard where some insane christmas festival thing was going on. Wall to wall kids carrying cotton candy and screaming. I left my MP3 player on to block out the sound of the band mangling christmas carols.
And, who should stop me as I was dodging some woman attempting to run me over with a humvee style stroller? The egyptian H. He grabbed my arm from behind, and I turned around ready to punch someone. Then I was like, are you [bad word] kidding me. Ech.
He said "Do you remember my name?" and I was like "Yes, H". I want him to know I know his name in case he does something bad. Then he said "Why did I no see you for a long time?" I was like dude, I just saw you on Saturday, and that visit was enough for the month. I tried to walk away from him, but he grabbed me again.
"I want to send flowers, and a fruit basket to your room. Where is your room?" Someone on the staff told him I was staying at the Meridien. If I find out who it was, I'll break his legs. I was like "I am not going to tell you where my room is. Please stop touching me." He said "Let's go for breakfast tomorrow or come by for a free drink in the evening". As if I don't have a job, and as if I would spend my free time with him.
Giving him a few pity points because, I don't know, maybe he didn't get enough nutrition as a child causing his obvious lack of brain power, I explained that I wouldn't be going to breakfast with him tomorrow morning, or ever. I patiently reiterated that I didn't want a fruit basket, flowers, or a free drink from him.
He said "I'm glad, because I don't like you when you're drinking. You're mean." I asked him how he came to that assumption (I am actually quite happy when I'm buzzed) and he said "You were being mean the other night (when I told him to f off)". I pointed out to him that I wasn't drunk that night, said I had to leave, and tried to walk away again, except I was blocked from making much progress because of all the kids with cotton candy milling around the sidewalk.
H said "Why don't you give me your room number?" and I said "Because I don't trust you". He said "If you can't trust me, who can you trust?" I didn't have time to make a list for him, so I left instead.
I hope H doesn't make the mistake of following me around the hotel for the next few months. Because I'll have to get one of my special forces guys to chat with him. Or get the Bouncer to come back. No one messes with the Bouncer.
Today I had a very long day at work, and went to the gym as soon as I got home. I ran for a while, and then headed back to my room. I had to walk through this outdoor courtyard where some insane christmas festival thing was going on. Wall to wall kids carrying cotton candy and screaming. I left my MP3 player on to block out the sound of the band mangling christmas carols.
And, who should stop me as I was dodging some woman attempting to run me over with a humvee style stroller? The egyptian H. He grabbed my arm from behind, and I turned around ready to punch someone. Then I was like, are you [bad word] kidding me. Ech.
He said "Do you remember my name?" and I was like "Yes, H". I want him to know I know his name in case he does something bad. Then he said "Why did I no see you for a long time?" I was like dude, I just saw you on Saturday, and that visit was enough for the month. I tried to walk away from him, but he grabbed me again.
"I want to send flowers, and a fruit basket to your room. Where is your room?" Someone on the staff told him I was staying at the Meridien. If I find out who it was, I'll break his legs. I was like "I am not going to tell you where my room is. Please stop touching me." He said "Let's go for breakfast tomorrow or come by for a free drink in the evening". As if I don't have a job, and as if I would spend my free time with him.
Giving him a few pity points because, I don't know, maybe he didn't get enough nutrition as a child causing his obvious lack of brain power, I explained that I wouldn't be going to breakfast with him tomorrow morning, or ever. I patiently reiterated that I didn't want a fruit basket, flowers, or a free drink from him.
He said "I'm glad, because I don't like you when you're drinking. You're mean." I asked him how he came to that assumption (I am actually quite happy when I'm buzzed) and he said "You were being mean the other night (when I told him to f off)". I pointed out to him that I wasn't drunk that night, said I had to leave, and tried to walk away again, except I was blocked from making much progress because of all the kids with cotton candy milling around the sidewalk.
H said "Why don't you give me your room number?" and I said "Because I don't trust you". He said "If you can't trust me, who can you trust?" I didn't have time to make a list for him, so I left instead.
I hope H doesn't make the mistake of following me around the hotel for the next few months. Because I'll have to get one of my special forces guys to chat with him. Or get the Bouncer to come back. No one messes with the Bouncer.
tigers
I've been having a philosophical discussion with myself the past few days because of the whole Tiger scandal. Not that I usually care about shit like that, but, it's been better than reading about all the unrest happening in my neighboring countries...
I heard two interesting things, both said by women. And, I'm not sure they're true. The first thing was about what attracts people to each other. It was along the lines of "half of the attraction to someone is that they're attracted to you and interested in you, so that makes them attractive". The second thing was a snarky comment "If everything is fine in your relationship, you aren't looking around".
While I think both of these things apply to WOMEN, I don't believe that they apply to men. But, I may be wrong.
In the first instance, I think men are just as attracted to people who aren't attracted to them. I see this all the time at work with these nimrods who will do things that even becoming physically threatening to me just to get my attention. It's not that I think they have some great interest in me, but rather that they hate that I am not interested in them. Once I show interest the problem usually goes away.
In the second instance, I think men are ALWAYS looking around. They aren't doing it for the same reason as women. Women are looking around to see if they can find a better guy. Men are looking around because they're worried they'll miss the opportunity to fuck someone who might want to fuck them. Most of the time guys who cheat, at least the ones I've known, are not looking for a new girlfriend, they're just looking for a new piece of ass. And when they're done, they'll dismiss that piece of ass without a second thought. Women, on the other hand, usually want to keep the new piece of ass around, preferably to replace the old piece of ass.
I may be wrong. Or maybe I just know some fucked up people. But this is what my experience has shown. I know plenty of married guys who mess around behind their partners' backs, not because they are unhappy with their partner but because they can. That might be why men and women have so many problems. Someone in the media was speculating that Tiger loved one of the girls that he was fucking. I thought that was a preposterous assumption. He did it to feed his ego, not because he cared about any of the girls, even if he was telling them otherwise.
Lesson learned, the hard way. Just because a guy says he loves you and is attracted to you, if he isn't with you, then what he's saying is bullshit. Sure, he might "love" you; but he really loves the person he stays with.
Also, just because a guy screws around on you, you can't assume he doesn't love you. Maybe he just loves himself more. He isn't cheating on you because he loves the person he cheated with. He did it to make himself feel better and to build up his ego, at the expense of yours. So it's not necessarily the right thing to leave him, because most guys will put themselves before you.
Until women start doing the same, we'll keep getting screwed in this game.
I heard two interesting things, both said by women. And, I'm not sure they're true. The first thing was about what attracts people to each other. It was along the lines of "half of the attraction to someone is that they're attracted to you and interested in you, so that makes them attractive". The second thing was a snarky comment "If everything is fine in your relationship, you aren't looking around".
While I think both of these things apply to WOMEN, I don't believe that they apply to men. But, I may be wrong.
In the first instance, I think men are just as attracted to people who aren't attracted to them. I see this all the time at work with these nimrods who will do things that even becoming physically threatening to me just to get my attention. It's not that I think they have some great interest in me, but rather that they hate that I am not interested in them. Once I show interest the problem usually goes away.
In the second instance, I think men are ALWAYS looking around. They aren't doing it for the same reason as women. Women are looking around to see if they can find a better guy. Men are looking around because they're worried they'll miss the opportunity to fuck someone who might want to fuck them. Most of the time guys who cheat, at least the ones I've known, are not looking for a new girlfriend, they're just looking for a new piece of ass. And when they're done, they'll dismiss that piece of ass without a second thought. Women, on the other hand, usually want to keep the new piece of ass around, preferably to replace the old piece of ass.
I may be wrong. Or maybe I just know some fucked up people. But this is what my experience has shown. I know plenty of married guys who mess around behind their partners' backs, not because they are unhappy with their partner but because they can. That might be why men and women have so many problems. Someone in the media was speculating that Tiger loved one of the girls that he was fucking. I thought that was a preposterous assumption. He did it to feed his ego, not because he cared about any of the girls, even if he was telling them otherwise.
Lesson learned, the hard way. Just because a guy says he loves you and is attracted to you, if he isn't with you, then what he's saying is bullshit. Sure, he might "love" you; but he really loves the person he stays with.
Also, just because a guy screws around on you, you can't assume he doesn't love you. Maybe he just loves himself more. He isn't cheating on you because he loves the person he cheated with. He did it to make himself feel better and to build up his ego, at the expense of yours. So it's not necessarily the right thing to leave him, because most guys will put themselves before you.
Until women start doing the same, we'll keep getting screwed in this game.
Sunday, December 13, 2009
talk like an egyptian
Friday was Bouncer's last day, and his flight left at 2 am Saturday morning (that's normal for this area of the world) so Ireland and I met him for a glass of wine at Wakatua (which I've been mistakenly calling Chi Chi's all this time). Then we had dinner at an Italian restaurant.
While we were at the restaurant the egyptian manager, H, came over and said hi to Ireland. They've known each other for 4 years. Then Ireland introduced me to H. He grabbed my hand, and then dropped it and said "your hand is too cold to shake". He asked if I had a hot heart because people with cold hands have a hot heart. And then he felt my forehead to see if I had a fever, but my face was red because I was blushing because I was embarrassed that I was being hassled by a maniac egyptian guy. I didn't respond to anything he said to me and stared at my bread plate until he walked away.
Undeterred, H brought a three string roaming band over to our table and had them play John Lennin's "woman" while he stood on the balcony above our table and stared at me. The romance of the gesture was somewhat marred by the filipino band's english, resulting in lines like "the little child in spite of a man" and "please remember my life is in the band". I thought it was weird, but decided to ignore it.
The Bouncer left and then M, Ireland's friend, showed up. We got our check and decided to sit at the restaurant outside the italian place to have another glass of wine. H came over and sat down on the bench next to me, and put his arm around me. Again, I thought it was strange but didn't want to piss off Ireland by being mean to her friend. Ireland told H he needed to upgrade me to the suite the Bouncer had. H said there was a nicer suite and told me he had a key for it. He said that he could give me a 20 minute tour of the suite.
That really pissed me off. I know exactly what he was implying. So I looked at him and said "Can you please not touch me?" He looked offended, but I was just getting started. I said "What exactly do you mean you're going to give me a 20 minute tour of the suite? Do you honestly think that I would go anywhere with you? And would you talk to an Eastern woman like that?"
H obviously didn't know what to say. He got up from the bench and said he was sorry. I was like "You're damn right you should be sorry. You assume just because I'm a western woman that you can just come up to me and put your arm around me and proposition me? What the [bad word] is WRONG with you?"
H apologized again and walked away. Ireland and M and I were talking about what a creep he was. Even if what he said was meant as a joke, he didn't know me well enough to say things like that. And frankly, I am tired of guys in this area of the world treating every woman like she's nothing but a prostitute. Of course, H positioned himself right outside the Italian restaurant and kept staring at our table.
About 20 minutes later I went in to the ladies and when I came out H walked up to me and apologized again. He said he had seen me hanging out in Wakatua with the Bouncer and that he liked me. I was like WHATEVER dude. He asked me to come by the restaurant some time to see him so he could talk to me. I said "Let me think about that for a second. Um, no."
I went back to the table and told Ireland and M what happened. I was tired anyway so we decided to leave. The stupid waiter brought our bill, and then, after I paid it with cash, told me I owed him an extra 100 dirhams. I thought that I might have put in the wrong cash because I'm always getting the money here confused (a lot of bills look alike, and it was kind of dark outside). As we were walking away from the table H came running up to me and told me the waiter had ripped me off, and gave me my 100 dirhams back.
Needless to say, I won't be going back to any of those places again. I really can't tolerate that kind of behavior anymore. I hate having to be distrustful of people because they think they can rip me off because I'm a western woman. I'm tired of guys coming up to me and acting like I should be happy they are paying attention to me.
Some times I wonder if this place is for real...
While we were at the restaurant the egyptian manager, H, came over and said hi to Ireland. They've known each other for 4 years. Then Ireland introduced me to H. He grabbed my hand, and then dropped it and said "your hand is too cold to shake". He asked if I had a hot heart because people with cold hands have a hot heart. And then he felt my forehead to see if I had a fever, but my face was red because I was blushing because I was embarrassed that I was being hassled by a maniac egyptian guy. I didn't respond to anything he said to me and stared at my bread plate until he walked away.
Undeterred, H brought a three string roaming band over to our table and had them play John Lennin's "woman" while he stood on the balcony above our table and stared at me. The romance of the gesture was somewhat marred by the filipino band's english, resulting in lines like "the little child in spite of a man" and "please remember my life is in the band". I thought it was weird, but decided to ignore it.
The Bouncer left and then M, Ireland's friend, showed up. We got our check and decided to sit at the restaurant outside the italian place to have another glass of wine. H came over and sat down on the bench next to me, and put his arm around me. Again, I thought it was strange but didn't want to piss off Ireland by being mean to her friend. Ireland told H he needed to upgrade me to the suite the Bouncer had. H said there was a nicer suite and told me he had a key for it. He said that he could give me a 20 minute tour of the suite.
That really pissed me off. I know exactly what he was implying. So I looked at him and said "Can you please not touch me?" He looked offended, but I was just getting started. I said "What exactly do you mean you're going to give me a 20 minute tour of the suite? Do you honestly think that I would go anywhere with you? And would you talk to an Eastern woman like that?"
H obviously didn't know what to say. He got up from the bench and said he was sorry. I was like "You're damn right you should be sorry. You assume just because I'm a western woman that you can just come up to me and put your arm around me and proposition me? What the [bad word] is WRONG with you?"
H apologized again and walked away. Ireland and M and I were talking about what a creep he was. Even if what he said was meant as a joke, he didn't know me well enough to say things like that. And frankly, I am tired of guys in this area of the world treating every woman like she's nothing but a prostitute. Of course, H positioned himself right outside the Italian restaurant and kept staring at our table.
About 20 minutes later I went in to the ladies and when I came out H walked up to me and apologized again. He said he had seen me hanging out in Wakatua with the Bouncer and that he liked me. I was like WHATEVER dude. He asked me to come by the restaurant some time to see him so he could talk to me. I said "Let me think about that for a second. Um, no."
I went back to the table and told Ireland and M what happened. I was tired anyway so we decided to leave. The stupid waiter brought our bill, and then, after I paid it with cash, told me I owed him an extra 100 dirhams. I thought that I might have put in the wrong cash because I'm always getting the money here confused (a lot of bills look alike, and it was kind of dark outside). As we were walking away from the table H came running up to me and told me the waiter had ripped me off, and gave me my 100 dirhams back.
Needless to say, I won't be going back to any of those places again. I really can't tolerate that kind of behavior anymore. I hate having to be distrustful of people because they think they can rip me off because I'm a western woman. I'm tired of guys coming up to me and acting like I should be happy they are paying attention to me.
Some times I wonder if this place is for real...
project close out
This past week has been insanely busy. It was my last week on a contract I've been supporting and since I was in Banff for 3 weeks I had a lot of work to do to get ready for the project close out.
Thursday night the project team got together for a celebration that went really, really late. We started out on the Bouncer's balcony with a bottle of champagne. The Bouncer got upgraded to the second nicest suite in the hotel, which included fresh floral arrangements and a platter of fruit every night. His balcony was larger than my hotel room. A band started playing below us and A was singing along, and he can sing really well, so I kept making him and Ireland sing along with the band (you could hear the music really clearly). I was like "We are starting a band and I'm the manager. I want you to practice!"
A got up and started dancing, including doing the moon walk. I was laughing so hard I was in tears. Then everyone got up and started dancing on the balcony. At one point A and I were doing chorus kicks. Unfortunately, Ireland took a picture of that. Then A and I threw rose petals off the balcony and they landed on people walking through the restaurant below the Bouncer's room.
The Bouncer gave Ireland and I all of his toiletries that came free with the room because they were from Hermes. I got a box of soap. It was so nice I kept taking it out of my bag and smelling it. Ireland was given some soap and shampoo and conditioner. We were joking with the Bouncer that I was going to move into his suite when he left because my room is crap in comparison.
We decided to go to the restaurant and the Bouncer, still in his suit, and A, wearing a suit coat, put roses in their lapels from a different floral arrangement than the one that A and I threw off the balcony. A guy came over to our table while we were having another bottle of champagne and made a comment about the Bouncer's suit and rose in lapel. Without missing a beat the Bouncer said "I was supposed to get married today, but the bride didn't show up". I said I was supposed to be the maid of honor. We kept the story going for the rest of the night. The guy felt really bad for making a comment to the Bouncer. Ha ha. The Bouncer later said "I never go into bars and do things like that". Ireland says I'm corrupting the team.
Then we met some helicopter pilots. One was very nice but the one who was sitting next to me was really creepy. I made the Bouncer switch seats with me. At one point we all decided to climb under the table and take a picture for Ireland's friend, who sent her a text saying that we should party so much we ended up under the table.
A ended up leaving early, and then I left about an hour later because I was totally exhausted. Ireland and the Bouncer kept going until 4 in the morning. I woke up the next day and was so tired I didn't do much of anything. I think I'm a little burned out...
Thursday night the project team got together for a celebration that went really, really late. We started out on the Bouncer's balcony with a bottle of champagne. The Bouncer got upgraded to the second nicest suite in the hotel, which included fresh floral arrangements and a platter of fruit every night. His balcony was larger than my hotel room. A band started playing below us and A was singing along, and he can sing really well, so I kept making him and Ireland sing along with the band (you could hear the music really clearly). I was like "We are starting a band and I'm the manager. I want you to practice!"
A got up and started dancing, including doing the moon walk. I was laughing so hard I was in tears. Then everyone got up and started dancing on the balcony. At one point A and I were doing chorus kicks. Unfortunately, Ireland took a picture of that. Then A and I threw rose petals off the balcony and they landed on people walking through the restaurant below the Bouncer's room.
The Bouncer gave Ireland and I all of his toiletries that came free with the room because they were from Hermes. I got a box of soap. It was so nice I kept taking it out of my bag and smelling it. Ireland was given some soap and shampoo and conditioner. We were joking with the Bouncer that I was going to move into his suite when he left because my room is crap in comparison.
We decided to go to the restaurant and the Bouncer, still in his suit, and A, wearing a suit coat, put roses in their lapels from a different floral arrangement than the one that A and I threw off the balcony. A guy came over to our table while we were having another bottle of champagne and made a comment about the Bouncer's suit and rose in lapel. Without missing a beat the Bouncer said "I was supposed to get married today, but the bride didn't show up". I said I was supposed to be the maid of honor. We kept the story going for the rest of the night. The guy felt really bad for making a comment to the Bouncer. Ha ha. The Bouncer later said "I never go into bars and do things like that". Ireland says I'm corrupting the team.
Then we met some helicopter pilots. One was very nice but the one who was sitting next to me was really creepy. I made the Bouncer switch seats with me. At one point we all decided to climb under the table and take a picture for Ireland's friend, who sent her a text saying that we should party so much we ended up under the table.
A ended up leaving early, and then I left about an hour later because I was totally exhausted. Ireland and the Bouncer kept going until 4 in the morning. I woke up the next day and was so tired I didn't do much of anything. I think I'm a little burned out...
don't see THAT too often in the desert
It's been raining here for two days straight. Which is weird because it usually rains here just a few days during the year in February, and it normally only rains for a few minutes (this is what the locals tell me anyway). Apparently last year they got so little rain that planes had to seed the clouds over the ocean to get a sprinkle in Abu Dhabi.
Well, the drought is over. Yesterday I went for a walk around 2 pm and got drenched by the rain. When I got back to the hotel it had started lightning and thundering. Same thing when I woke up this morning. The roof of my hotel is flooded. The roads are flooded. All the street signals went out in the tourist club area of Abu Dhabi so traffic was a mess. It was like experiencing a bad snow storm in the US. But worse.
Only two people came into the office today because of the weather. I left early because it had started raining again and I was getting worried the streets would be impassible going back to the hotel. Because I'm right on the beach all of the streets near my hotel are filled with water. This street next to my hotel is so flooded cars can't drive down it anymore.
Wishing I had a rain jacket and sweat shirt. It's chilly here too. I'm guessing Ireland and I won't be going to the beach next weekend if this weather keeps up.
Thursday, December 3, 2009
my fake oatmeal injury
WARNING: kind of gross picture of my injury at the bottom of this blog
Today I sustained my worst UAE injury since I tripped over those tiles and cut up the top of my foot (I still have scars). I was injured by fake oatmeal.
I went to the co-op yesterday to buy some breakfast cereal since the breakfast here at the Meridien is crap (except for the coconut cupcakes). I bought what I thought was a can of oatmeal. The picture on the can sure looks like oats. And it had a name "Virginia", the only english writing on the can. Isn't Virginia a farm state? Isn't it very possible they grow oats there? They have lots of horse in VA too, and don't horses eat oats?
The "cereal" came in a tin with a metal seal on it (like a can of pringles). I started opening the metal seal thingy and somehow managed to gash my thumb with it as I was pulling the last part off. It hurt. A lot. Then my thumb started bleeding and wouldn't stop. I didn't have any bandaids so I took some packing tape and taped a kleenex over the cut. But, not before getting blood on the floor. I guess it kind of blends in with the carpet.
The worst part is, what ever is in that tin is NOT oatmeal. I poured boiling water over the "oats" and after 3 minutes, during which the oatmeal was supposed to be cooking, I looked inside my coffee mug expecting to see oatmeal. Instead there was this gelatinous goo with a few "oat balls" floating in it. I tried stirring to see if that would help but the balls just kept sticking to my spoon. I tried to eat it, but it was way too disgusting. It tasted like sand, actually.
I left what ever it is in the coffee mug and figured the maid would clean it when he did my room. Ha. The only thing he seems to spend time on in my room is going through my clothes. I had a meeting with Ireland, and when I got back to my hotel room 3 hours later I saw that the oat stuff had turned to sludge in a mug. Gross. I can't wait to find out at work on Sunday what this stuff is.
Tuesday, December 1, 2009
the wrong mercure
I'm back in Abu Dhabi after 3 1/2 weeks in Banff, Canada and a half week in Denver with my parents. The writing workshop I went to was the best thing I've ever done, and I would encourage any aspiring writer to apply for it (www.banffcentre.ca).
As usual, though, something weird happened on my trip from the states. Flying to Canada from UAE I ended up having a 30 hour layover in Frankfurt. I didn't realize I had such a long layover until I got to Frankfurt, so I called my company's travel desk and they booked me into a Mercure hotel close to the airport. I went to the airport info desk after I got the address and they told me there was a free shuttle to the hotel. Perfect. I got there, walked around the very nice village where the Mercure was located, had some great food from a street vendor stand, and made it to Denver even though there was a huge snowstorm.
On the way back to UAE, I had a 24 hour layover. I contacted the travel desk and asked them to put me in the Mercure again. I left pretty late on Friday night, and was exhausted by the time I got to Frankfurt because this terrorist kid (guessing age 3 or 4) screamed, no, not cried, screamed the entire flight. Yes, all 10 1/2 hours. It was so bad that people on the plane were yelling at the parents to shut the kid up. But, they were busy watching a movie, and did nothing.
Anyway, I went to the hotel shuttle station and got the shuttle. I was so happy that, in 30 minutes, I was going to be in a bed, sleeping. We pulled up to a hotel. Sure, it had the Mercure sign. But, it looked different. I got to the front desk and found out not only did I not have a reservation there, but the price of the room was 3 times what my company would pay. The woman that I would have to take a taxi to the Mercure hotel where I had a reservation. I said I would just take the shuttle back to the airport and catch the other Mercure shuttle to the right hotel. The woman and shuttle driver BOTH insisted there was no "other Mercure shuttle". I said "But I just stayed there a month ago and took the shuttle". The woman patted me on the arm and said I looked really tired.
I got a taxi and he took me to a Mercure hotel. But it was not the hotel I had stayed at. I asked him to wait while I went inside but he took off as soon as my suitcase was out of his trunk. I went in and found out, no surprise, that I didn't have a reservation there either. The check in desk told me there are three Mercure hotels in Frankfurt and that this confusion happens all the time.
Great. I stood in the rain for 20 minutes waiting for a taxi. Thankfully he spoke english. He promised me he could have me to the hotel in 15 minutes because by then I was ready to pass out from exhaustion. I fell asleep in his cab. I woke up when we got to the hotel and...it was NOT the hotel I had stayed in. I was like aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah! wrong hotel again!!!!!!!! and begged the taxi driver not to leave me until I found the right hotel. I went in and it turns out it was the hotel where I had a reservation. But it was definitely NOT the hotel I had stayed in before. As the woman was checking me in I asked her about the fourth Mercure hotel and she also insisted it didn't exist, there were only 3 Mercures in Frankfurt, and that the expensive Mercure I went to first was the only hotel that had a shuttle from the airport.
I thought maybe I was tired and going crazy. But then when I got up to my room I looked in my computer bag and sure enough, there was my Mercure hotel key from my previous stay. Then, because I'm obsessive compulsive, I did a web search to find the other hotel I stayed at. It didn't list in the results for Mercures within a certain distance from the Frankfurt airport.
Crazy. I wonder if I was staying in the twilight zone...
So, on deck for the rest of the week. Tomorrow's a holiday (National day, which means people driving their cars around at crazy speeds, and fireworks), then this weekend I promised Ireland I would go with her to rugby 7s. I may regret that. She said, after I promised to go, and I quote "It's so great! You get to sit in the stands with all these crazy rugby fans spilling beer all over you!"
Uh. Yeah.
As usual, though, something weird happened on my trip from the states. Flying to Canada from UAE I ended up having a 30 hour layover in Frankfurt. I didn't realize I had such a long layover until I got to Frankfurt, so I called my company's travel desk and they booked me into a Mercure hotel close to the airport. I went to the airport info desk after I got the address and they told me there was a free shuttle to the hotel. Perfect. I got there, walked around the very nice village where the Mercure was located, had some great food from a street vendor stand, and made it to Denver even though there was a huge snowstorm.
On the way back to UAE, I had a 24 hour layover. I contacted the travel desk and asked them to put me in the Mercure again. I left pretty late on Friday night, and was exhausted by the time I got to Frankfurt because this terrorist kid (guessing age 3 or 4) screamed, no, not cried, screamed the entire flight. Yes, all 10 1/2 hours. It was so bad that people on the plane were yelling at the parents to shut the kid up. But, they were busy watching a movie, and did nothing.
Anyway, I went to the hotel shuttle station and got the shuttle. I was so happy that, in 30 minutes, I was going to be in a bed, sleeping. We pulled up to a hotel. Sure, it had the Mercure sign. But, it looked different. I got to the front desk and found out not only did I not have a reservation there, but the price of the room was 3 times what my company would pay. The woman that I would have to take a taxi to the Mercure hotel where I had a reservation. I said I would just take the shuttle back to the airport and catch the other Mercure shuttle to the right hotel. The woman and shuttle driver BOTH insisted there was no "other Mercure shuttle". I said "But I just stayed there a month ago and took the shuttle". The woman patted me on the arm and said I looked really tired.
I got a taxi and he took me to a Mercure hotel. But it was not the hotel I had stayed at. I asked him to wait while I went inside but he took off as soon as my suitcase was out of his trunk. I went in and found out, no surprise, that I didn't have a reservation there either. The check in desk told me there are three Mercure hotels in Frankfurt and that this confusion happens all the time.
Great. I stood in the rain for 20 minutes waiting for a taxi. Thankfully he spoke english. He promised me he could have me to the hotel in 15 minutes because by then I was ready to pass out from exhaustion. I fell asleep in his cab. I woke up when we got to the hotel and...it was NOT the hotel I had stayed in. I was like aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah! wrong hotel again!!!!!!!! and begged the taxi driver not to leave me until I found the right hotel. I went in and it turns out it was the hotel where I had a reservation. But it was definitely NOT the hotel I had stayed in before. As the woman was checking me in I asked her about the fourth Mercure hotel and she also insisted it didn't exist, there were only 3 Mercures in Frankfurt, and that the expensive Mercure I went to first was the only hotel that had a shuttle from the airport.
I thought maybe I was tired and going crazy. But then when I got up to my room I looked in my computer bag and sure enough, there was my Mercure hotel key from my previous stay. Then, because I'm obsessive compulsive, I did a web search to find the other hotel I stayed at. It didn't list in the results for Mercures within a certain distance from the Frankfurt airport.
Crazy. I wonder if I was staying in the twilight zone...
So, on deck for the rest of the week. Tomorrow's a holiday (National day, which means people driving their cars around at crazy speeds, and fireworks), then this weekend I promised Ireland I would go with her to rugby 7s. I may regret that. She said, after I promised to go, and I quote "It's so great! You get to sit in the stands with all these crazy rugby fans spilling beer all over you!"
Uh. Yeah.
Friday, November 13, 2009
why I love great whites
My fake publisher asked me to explain why I love great whites in this piece I'm writing. I told him I didn't know why I love them, and then he said I should write something to try to figure it out.
So, why I love great whites...
I'm obsessed with teeth. Not just shark teeth, but all teeth. I don't know why. They're shiny, and white, and when I look at teeth, nice teeth, it makes me feel calm. Sharks have lots of nice teeth. But, really I like great white teeth. And tiger shark teeth. I don't like sand shark teeth. Or alligator teeth. Okay...I like triangular teeth.
Fuck, I'm an engineer, of course I like triangles.
Great whites have well organized teeth. I like that. And they are well arranged. It's weird that they seem a bit obese, and I don't normally like that. They have the fattest necks ever. But for some reason, I like that on great whites.
That Jaws poster. I loved that poster. I used to cut the advert for Jaws out of the paper and put it on the wall next to my bed. Why would I like that poster? Because the shark has the element of surprise. I felt more like the shark than the person swimming.
Which is weird. I should take a poll. When people look at that advert, who do they identify more with? Am I the only one who thinks I'm the shark?
No one tells a great white what to do. They can't be tamed or kept in captivity.
I often have dreams that great whites take me to live with them. In those dreams I feel like I'm flying, I feel protected by the sharks, and I feel like the sharks have adopted me. I have always, insanely maybe, believed that even if I encountered a great white in the wild it wouldn't eat me. I also believe a great white would let me pet it.
If I were a great white, no one could fuck with me except for an orca. I saw a video of a great white getting fucked up by an orca. I didn't love it less. I felt bad for it. I like orcas too. But I don't like their teeth. They have the stupidest teeth ever. And they're totally black and white. Great whites are mottled. They can hide against the rocks.
Great whites travel a lot. So do I. They hang out in packs sometimes, but are really loners. Other sharks know how to do math. Great whites might know how to do math.
You can't ever tell what a great white is thinking. It doesn't have a pupil. It's like their dead. Which is weird. Because I don't like snakes because they don't have a pupil.
When people display dead great whites they're still scary.
Sometimes I think it would be fun if I could climb into a great white's mouth and ride around in there while the shark is swimming. I think it would be funny if the shark swam up to a boat and opened its mouth. Then I would wave to the people and then the shark would close its mouth and swim away. We would laugh about that for hours. The shark would keep saying "Did you SEE their faces when I swam up? I thought I was going to die laughing when you were all like "hi people on the boat!""
Time to meet everyone for dinner. I'm going to do my experiment. I still don't know why I love great whites.
So, why I love great whites...
I'm obsessed with teeth. Not just shark teeth, but all teeth. I don't know why. They're shiny, and white, and when I look at teeth, nice teeth, it makes me feel calm. Sharks have lots of nice teeth. But, really I like great white teeth. And tiger shark teeth. I don't like sand shark teeth. Or alligator teeth. Okay...I like triangular teeth.
Fuck, I'm an engineer, of course I like triangles.
Great whites have well organized teeth. I like that. And they are well arranged. It's weird that they seem a bit obese, and I don't normally like that. They have the fattest necks ever. But for some reason, I like that on great whites.
That Jaws poster. I loved that poster. I used to cut the advert for Jaws out of the paper and put it on the wall next to my bed. Why would I like that poster? Because the shark has the element of surprise. I felt more like the shark than the person swimming.
Which is weird. I should take a poll. When people look at that advert, who do they identify more with? Am I the only one who thinks I'm the shark?
No one tells a great white what to do. They can't be tamed or kept in captivity.
I often have dreams that great whites take me to live with them. In those dreams I feel like I'm flying, I feel protected by the sharks, and I feel like the sharks have adopted me. I have always, insanely maybe, believed that even if I encountered a great white in the wild it wouldn't eat me. I also believe a great white would let me pet it.
If I were a great white, no one could fuck with me except for an orca. I saw a video of a great white getting fucked up by an orca. I didn't love it less. I felt bad for it. I like orcas too. But I don't like their teeth. They have the stupidest teeth ever. And they're totally black and white. Great whites are mottled. They can hide against the rocks.
Great whites travel a lot. So do I. They hang out in packs sometimes, but are really loners. Other sharks know how to do math. Great whites might know how to do math.
You can't ever tell what a great white is thinking. It doesn't have a pupil. It's like their dead. Which is weird. Because I don't like snakes because they don't have a pupil.
When people display dead great whites they're still scary.
Sometimes I think it would be fun if I could climb into a great white's mouth and ride around in there while the shark is swimming. I think it would be funny if the shark swam up to a boat and opened its mouth. Then I would wave to the people and then the shark would close its mouth and swim away. We would laugh about that for hours. The shark would keep saying "Did you SEE their faces when I swam up? I thought I was going to die laughing when you were all like "hi people on the boat!""
Time to meet everyone for dinner. I'm going to do my experiment. I still don't know why I love great whites.
Wednesday, November 11, 2009
climbing grade love
I've been thinking about love, and lack there of, lately. That's because I think it's strange when people say they love me. What exactly does that mean?
So this morning I got an idea. The word "love" should be prefaced with a grade, like a rock climb. That way everyone knows exactly what the claim of love implies.
Here's a suggested scale:
5.4 love - You're interested in love, but more as a tourist. You don't want to do anything too hard. You want to say that you loved, even if it was just a weekend trip. 5.4 love is predictable and easy. You feel a sense of accomplishment because you don't know there's more to it than what you experienced.
5.6 love - Now you're trying a little harder. There's a few challenges, but that's because you don't know what you're doing. Endurance is usually an issue with 5.6 love. You get pumped before you top out. A person who attempts 5.6 love will make a decision to step up the game or just go back to 5.4 love.
5.8 love - You can definitely say you're a lover now. But, maybe not the kind that knows how to handle challenges and cruxes. This is married people love, with the spouse and kids, looking at the harder stuff but being to scared to try it. People in 5.8 love like to play it safe. It might be challenging at first, but then it gets boring, but at least you know what to expect. There's little chance of getting hurt on 5.8 love.
5.9 love - There are a few crux moves here, and you might be surprised how hard it is sometimes. You might find yourself thinking "this is harder than 5.9 love should be". It's a weird place. You want something more exciting than 5.8 love, but you are afraid to push yourself to a 5.10 love. Basically, you're mediocre. Just go back to 5.8 love and quit wasting people's time.
5.10 love - This is the perfect love. Solid, but with challenges. It shows you've mastered love. It's the last love grade before things get start getting weird. 5.10 love requires dedication and style.
5.11 love - This is where love starts to get bad. Sure, it's great, but all you're doing is potentially hurting yourself hanging on to little bits and pieces of things, trying to make a route out of them. There may be some good holds to get you to the top, but there's a lot of crimp shit too.
5.12 love - Now you've over worked love. You've put it on some pedestal and are chasing after it to the exclusion of other, healthier things. You might feel great when you top out on 5.12 love, but then you have to do it again tomorrow. And the next day. Pretty soon you're going to be thinking that 5.12 love is really scary, and the rewards aren't that great. 5.12 love always hurts. It's like a Roy Orbison song.
5.13 love - This love is best described with an image: pet bunny in a pot on the stove.
So this morning I got an idea. The word "love" should be prefaced with a grade, like a rock climb. That way everyone knows exactly what the claim of love implies.
Here's a suggested scale:
5.4 love - You're interested in love, but more as a tourist. You don't want to do anything too hard. You want to say that you loved, even if it was just a weekend trip. 5.4 love is predictable and easy. You feel a sense of accomplishment because you don't know there's more to it than what you experienced.
5.6 love - Now you're trying a little harder. There's a few challenges, but that's because you don't know what you're doing. Endurance is usually an issue with 5.6 love. You get pumped before you top out. A person who attempts 5.6 love will make a decision to step up the game or just go back to 5.4 love.
5.8 love - You can definitely say you're a lover now. But, maybe not the kind that knows how to handle challenges and cruxes. This is married people love, with the spouse and kids, looking at the harder stuff but being to scared to try it. People in 5.8 love like to play it safe. It might be challenging at first, but then it gets boring, but at least you know what to expect. There's little chance of getting hurt on 5.8 love.
5.9 love - There are a few crux moves here, and you might be surprised how hard it is sometimes. You might find yourself thinking "this is harder than 5.9 love should be". It's a weird place. You want something more exciting than 5.8 love, but you are afraid to push yourself to a 5.10 love. Basically, you're mediocre. Just go back to 5.8 love and quit wasting people's time.
5.10 love - This is the perfect love. Solid, but with challenges. It shows you've mastered love. It's the last love grade before things get start getting weird. 5.10 love requires dedication and style.
5.11 love - This is where love starts to get bad. Sure, it's great, but all you're doing is potentially hurting yourself hanging on to little bits and pieces of things, trying to make a route out of them. There may be some good holds to get you to the top, but there's a lot of crimp shit too.
5.12 love - Now you've over worked love. You've put it on some pedestal and are chasing after it to the exclusion of other, healthier things. You might feel great when you top out on 5.12 love, but then you have to do it again tomorrow. And the next day. Pretty soon you're going to be thinking that 5.12 love is really scary, and the rewards aren't that great. 5.12 love always hurts. It's like a Roy Orbison song.
5.13 love - This love is best described with an image: pet bunny in a pot on the stove.
Monday, November 9, 2009
banff film fest wrap party
Apologies for the stream of consciousness writing. I have a writing deadline and am not supposed to be writing on my blog...
So, I showed up to the wrap party fashionably late. That was what doomed me. When I got there I ran into Lana, who was my volunteer coordinator last year. I hadn't brought any money so I thought I wasn't going to be drinking. Instead Lana, who had been drinking, stuffed about 6 drink tickets in my pocket. Oy vey.
Then I ran into M and N, who were talking to this Jon guy. Jon said my turquoise necklace from Nepal was ceramic (I wasn't wearing the necklace, so he didn't see it, he was just being a negative nancy). Then some tall French (?) guy named Alain, who knows Jon, came up behind me and pulled my hair really really hard. I turned around and was like "dude, what the fuck???" in a mean way and that little french prick just smiled and said "I like your hair". Fucking french.
Then this guy who looked like a child molester started stalking me and I had to hang out with N but no matter where we went he kept following me. Then I went to get another drink at the bar and was accosted by a midget. The dude fucking glommed on to me and kept trying to touch me and wanted to introduce me to all his friends. I was like uh, I have to go smoke, exit stage left.
But the dude followed me outside, where I was next accosted by some stupid little snowboarding punk who was wearing this totally retarded outfit and who kept trying to tell me a story about some invisible animal that he made up that's his only friend. Finally I was like "if I give you a cigarette will you leave me alone?" I had to give him two, because after he finished the first one he came back. Oh, and that kid told me my writing probably sucks because you have to be ego less when you write. Out of the mouths of 16 year old punks. And midget boy told me about writing one line haikus about mountaineering, and I was like dude, if it's only one line, it's not a haiku, but then realized it wasn't worth arguing about when he recited his haiku "men, we will go into the mountains, and we will climb to the sky" or some shit like that. He puts his poems on a web site. Ech.
Finally I saw N, who I think was hiding from me because I was making fun of him because he can't swim and said "octopuses" instead of "octopi", and F. I mouthed "help me" to F and we stuck N with the midget while F and I went and got cake. Actually, F got cake, but I just pulled the strawberries off the tops of the pieces of cake and ate those. No one seemed to notice because people kept eating the cake. F said "that creepy guy is still following you" and I thought he meant the midget but it was actually the child molester guy. So we went over to the coffee and F revealed a top secret aspect of his story which he had just found out before the wrap party. F jumped up and down for like 5 minutes after he told me the ending. Like, seriously jumped up and down. It was cute.
Then F went away and N got mad because I wouldn't dance with him on the dance floor, so he walked away, and the midget came up to me again. I tried to lose him at the bar, but then he took me over to a table and introduced me to some good looking guys.
Then I started talking to this swiss guy named U. U was mad I missed his presentation on the Eiger. I mentioned I have a friend who's climbed the Eiger 4 times and U said he's climbed it 37 times. I'm going to guess he's a water sign, and that we wouldn't have gotten along anyway, but I'll never know because midget guy came up to me and yelled at me for dropping pretzels all over U because I had two handfuls of them because I was hungry and drunk so the only way I could eat the pretzels was to take a bite out of what ever piece was hanging out between my fingers and then sometimes I would accidentally squeeze my pretzels too hard and they would break and fall on U's little vest thing he was wearing. Oh, and I punched U in the arm for god knows what reason and a pretzel flew out of my fist and accidentally hit him on the ear but he was laughing. Uh, from what I remember.
After midget boy yelled at me for dropping pretzels on U he was telling everyone to do these hula hoop things. Everyone was horrible. Midget boy was trying to show off I think, but he was the worst. While he was distracted with the hula hoop I ran away and found N, but by then I was tired, drunker than drunk, and ready to leave.
U followed me over to N and I was going to say goodbye to him too but midget boy accosted me again as U was approaching me and U just waved to me and walked away. So I headed up the stairs and then midget boy grabbed my arm and I do NOT like being touched by random people so I palmed his face and pushed him backwards and then ran up the steps. Then N ran up after me to make sure I remembered where I left my coat because he had promised me earlier in the evening that if I got really drunk he would keep track of where I left my jacket. Because I was so drunk I think I said "Nice work soldier. You remembered your mission, and executed it well." Then I saluted him and almost fell over.
...and woke up with a class 4 hangover for a 730 am conference call. My head hurts. The end.
So, I showed up to the wrap party fashionably late. That was what doomed me. When I got there I ran into Lana, who was my volunteer coordinator last year. I hadn't brought any money so I thought I wasn't going to be drinking. Instead Lana, who had been drinking, stuffed about 6 drink tickets in my pocket. Oy vey.
Then I ran into M and N, who were talking to this Jon guy. Jon said my turquoise necklace from Nepal was ceramic (I wasn't wearing the necklace, so he didn't see it, he was just being a negative nancy). Then some tall French (?) guy named Alain, who knows Jon, came up behind me and pulled my hair really really hard. I turned around and was like "dude, what the fuck???" in a mean way and that little french prick just smiled and said "I like your hair". Fucking french.
Then this guy who looked like a child molester started stalking me and I had to hang out with N but no matter where we went he kept following me. Then I went to get another drink at the bar and was accosted by a midget. The dude fucking glommed on to me and kept trying to touch me and wanted to introduce me to all his friends. I was like uh, I have to go smoke, exit stage left.
But the dude followed me outside, where I was next accosted by some stupid little snowboarding punk who was wearing this totally retarded outfit and who kept trying to tell me a story about some invisible animal that he made up that's his only friend. Finally I was like "if I give you a cigarette will you leave me alone?" I had to give him two, because after he finished the first one he came back. Oh, and that kid told me my writing probably sucks because you have to be ego less when you write. Out of the mouths of 16 year old punks. And midget boy told me about writing one line haikus about mountaineering, and I was like dude, if it's only one line, it's not a haiku, but then realized it wasn't worth arguing about when he recited his haiku "men, we will go into the mountains, and we will climb to the sky" or some shit like that. He puts his poems on a web site. Ech.
Finally I saw N, who I think was hiding from me because I was making fun of him because he can't swim and said "octopuses" instead of "octopi", and F. I mouthed "help me" to F and we stuck N with the midget while F and I went and got cake. Actually, F got cake, but I just pulled the strawberries off the tops of the pieces of cake and ate those. No one seemed to notice because people kept eating the cake. F said "that creepy guy is still following you" and I thought he meant the midget but it was actually the child molester guy. So we went over to the coffee and F revealed a top secret aspect of his story which he had just found out before the wrap party. F jumped up and down for like 5 minutes after he told me the ending. Like, seriously jumped up and down. It was cute.
Then F went away and N got mad because I wouldn't dance with him on the dance floor, so he walked away, and the midget came up to me again. I tried to lose him at the bar, but then he took me over to a table and introduced me to some good looking guys.
Then I started talking to this swiss guy named U. U was mad I missed his presentation on the Eiger. I mentioned I have a friend who's climbed the Eiger 4 times and U said he's climbed it 37 times. I'm going to guess he's a water sign, and that we wouldn't have gotten along anyway, but I'll never know because midget guy came up to me and yelled at me for dropping pretzels all over U because I had two handfuls of them because I was hungry and drunk so the only way I could eat the pretzels was to take a bite out of what ever piece was hanging out between my fingers and then sometimes I would accidentally squeeze my pretzels too hard and they would break and fall on U's little vest thing he was wearing. Oh, and I punched U in the arm for god knows what reason and a pretzel flew out of my fist and accidentally hit him on the ear but he was laughing. Uh, from what I remember.
After midget boy yelled at me for dropping pretzels on U he was telling everyone to do these hula hoop things. Everyone was horrible. Midget boy was trying to show off I think, but he was the worst. While he was distracted with the hula hoop I ran away and found N, but by then I was tired, drunker than drunk, and ready to leave.
U followed me over to N and I was going to say goodbye to him too but midget boy accosted me again as U was approaching me and U just waved to me and walked away. So I headed up the stairs and then midget boy grabbed my arm and I do NOT like being touched by random people so I palmed his face and pushed him backwards and then ran up the steps. Then N ran up after me to make sure I remembered where I left my coat because he had promised me earlier in the evening that if I got really drunk he would keep track of where I left my jacket. Because I was so drunk I think I said "Nice work soldier. You remembered your mission, and executed it well." Then I saluted him and almost fell over.
...and woke up with a class 4 hangover for a 730 am conference call. My head hurts. The end.
Saturday, November 7, 2009
fake labels
Today we had our second writing workshop. We had it in this cool house that was moved from somewhere in Banff up to the Banff Centre. There's no alcohol allowed in the house and our editors strongly emphasized this.
So, I went out and bought a bottle of red and white (the discussions are always more fun when alcohol is involved) and created two fake labels for the wine. The first one, for the red, had a picture of a cheesy little girl angel and said this:
Absolutely Not Alcoholic Juice Stuff
Nope, no alcohol in here. It’s just purple liquid made from grapes with antioxidants that’s really good for you. We would never break the rules.
For the white bottle, I made a label that had a picture of a little girl in goggles swimming under water next to a white whale. That one said:
Great White Whale Solution
No whales were harmed in the making of this non-alcoholic drink that has no alcohol in it. In fact, it’s alcohol free!
The problem is, no one realized it was a joke. They all thought I had brought non-alcoholic wine to the work shop. I finally had to point out that the labels were taped on the bottle with packing tape. Then everyone was like "oh, ha ha ha".
I won't go into the assassin jokes around the table because I killed three flies during the workshop. Ha ha ha.
So, I went out and bought a bottle of red and white (the discussions are always more fun when alcohol is involved) and created two fake labels for the wine. The first one, for the red, had a picture of a cheesy little girl angel and said this:
Absolutely Not Alcoholic Juice Stuff
Nope, no alcohol in here. It’s just purple liquid made from grapes with antioxidants that’s really good for you. We would never break the rules.
For the white bottle, I made a label that had a picture of a little girl in goggles swimming under water next to a white whale. That one said:
Great White Whale Solution
No whales were harmed in the making of this non-alcoholic drink that has no alcohol in it. In fact, it’s alcohol free!
The problem is, no one realized it was a joke. They all thought I had brought non-alcoholic wine to the work shop. I finally had to point out that the labels were taped on the bottle with packing tape. Then everyone was like "oh, ha ha ha".
I won't go into the assassin jokes around the table because I killed three flies during the workshop. Ha ha ha.
Monday, November 2, 2009
finally, I figured out what I'm doing
So I was busily editing my stories for my book, trying to ignore the massive doubts I was starting to have about my book.
I met with my publisher Tony, and he was having the same doubts. Uh oh. I tried to talk through the point I wanted to make with my book, but I couldn't even do that very well.
Tony suggested I write a piece about the motorcycle accident that led to my pursuit of extreme sports. I sat down on Saturday morning to write it.
I wrote, and wrote, and wrote some more. It was horrible. I'd never documented what happened when I went through my two horrific knee surgeries. After everything was said and done my career was in tatters, my husband had left me, and I had been forced to leave San Fran to work on the east coast. It was really hard to write about all that stuff. At the same time, what was wrong with my book is that it was just about stupid adventures I'd had, with no personal information. It's going to be really hard to let people read the stuff I'm writing now, but at the same time it's cathartic. Though the past two days have been really hard, emotionally, because I'm dredging up all this stuff I've been suppressing.
I finished the story in about 4 hours of intense writing. I then spent all night Saturday (until 1 am) and all day Sunday revising and trying to make the story funny.
Tony liked it, and liked my new idea for the book. I'm going to introduce each story with a piece that explains what was going on in my life and why I chose that particular adventure. The interspersed pieces will be a little cliffhanger and will help add some cohesion to the stories.
I'm pretty excited about the book now. I'm getting my first piece workshopped on Wednesday. I'm the first to go. Should be interesting.
I met with my publisher Tony, and he was having the same doubts. Uh oh. I tried to talk through the point I wanted to make with my book, but I couldn't even do that very well.
Tony suggested I write a piece about the motorcycle accident that led to my pursuit of extreme sports. I sat down on Saturday morning to write it.
I wrote, and wrote, and wrote some more. It was horrible. I'd never documented what happened when I went through my two horrific knee surgeries. After everything was said and done my career was in tatters, my husband had left me, and I had been forced to leave San Fran to work on the east coast. It was really hard to write about all that stuff. At the same time, what was wrong with my book is that it was just about stupid adventures I'd had, with no personal information. It's going to be really hard to let people read the stuff I'm writing now, but at the same time it's cathartic. Though the past two days have been really hard, emotionally, because I'm dredging up all this stuff I've been suppressing.
I finished the story in about 4 hours of intense writing. I then spent all night Saturday (until 1 am) and all day Sunday revising and trying to make the story funny.
Tony liked it, and liked my new idea for the book. I'm going to introduce each story with a piece that explains what was going on in my life and why I chose that particular adventure. The interspersed pieces will be a little cliffhanger and will help add some cohesion to the stories.
I'm pretty excited about the book now. I'm getting my first piece workshopped on Wednesday. I'm the first to go. Should be interesting.
which one is it?
Last night I had one of the worst dreams I've had in a long time. All the guys in this dream are climbers I know or knew.
In the dream I was walking through an area that was like the Banff Centre, but it was a rough neighborhood. I was walking with my friend Will. He was supposed to be taking me to a climbing gym, and we walked into this building, but it looked like an administration building.
He was like "oops, we must have come through the office!" Just then I noticed a little girl with brown curly hair. I realized I was in my ex-boyfriend Chris' office, and that the little girl was his daughter. I was like "dude, why did you take me here? there has to be another climbing gym!" Will apologized and we went outside, where we ran into my fake co-author Dave.
Dave was standing kind of hunched over and had a big beer gut. I almost didn't recognize him. But then he stood up and all the weight from his gut moved into his chest. He was a lot bigger than anyone else. Will asked him where we could climb and Dave said "I need to meet with Franki about the book". Just as I started telling him about the book I'm working on now this blond woman from Europe came up. She was beautiful. Dave turned to me and said "Watch, I can hypnotize her into having sex with me".
His eyes turned this really weird purple color and the woman couldn't stop staring into them. Dave was saying something quietly to her. I realized that he was asking her to be his new co-author. I was like "dude, you're an asshole! I was supposed to write that book with you!" He told me to shut up and then took the European woman off to have sex somewhere. As they were walking away he said "You see, I can fuck anyone I want".
Will apologized to me again and started saying something about divorce. I was like "you mean Dave got divorced?" and Will said "No, Chris got divorced". Suddenly Chris showed up and started saying "Someone needs to help me clean up this mess!" and Will asked me if I wanted to get back together with Chris. I said no, and then Will said "I'll help you do whatever you want" and I told him I wanted to get away from this horrible place.
I started running and Will didn't follow because he was stuck talking to Chris, who was bragging about owning the biggest climbing gym in the world. I got to this area where there was a narrow sidewalk surrounded by buildings on either side. Then these 5 guys came up and I realized they were going to rob me and beat me up. I said "Did you see that giant man? I was with him and if you touch me he'll kill you!" And they said "Well, he isn't here now. And he said he doesn't know you."
Then I was running down this narrow spiral staircase that had barbed wire on the top. The only way I could get my legs to move was to lift them with my hands. I kept cutting myself on the barbed wire. Then, as I got to the end of the spiral staircase, I was on a roof and my family was there. We were supposed to take a helicopter off the top of the building where the spiral staircase had ended. When I looked out over the city skyline I realized I was in Dubai.
I got on the helicopter and the pilot said we couldn't bring my mom because there wasn't enough room. I got off the helicopter and told my mom that. She started crying and I realized she was drunk. My dad started yelling "I told her she couldn't come!" Then I saw that my mom had jumped across a huge gap from her hotel roof to this roof. That was the only way she could get off the building roof. I was afraid she was going to jump and fall because she was drunk. She told me she didn't care if she fell and started running towards the edge of the roof.
Then I woke up.
In the dream I was walking through an area that was like the Banff Centre, but it was a rough neighborhood. I was walking with my friend Will. He was supposed to be taking me to a climbing gym, and we walked into this building, but it looked like an administration building.
He was like "oops, we must have come through the office!" Just then I noticed a little girl with brown curly hair. I realized I was in my ex-boyfriend Chris' office, and that the little girl was his daughter. I was like "dude, why did you take me here? there has to be another climbing gym!" Will apologized and we went outside, where we ran into my fake co-author Dave.
Dave was standing kind of hunched over and had a big beer gut. I almost didn't recognize him. But then he stood up and all the weight from his gut moved into his chest. He was a lot bigger than anyone else. Will asked him where we could climb and Dave said "I need to meet with Franki about the book". Just as I started telling him about the book I'm working on now this blond woman from Europe came up. She was beautiful. Dave turned to me and said "Watch, I can hypnotize her into having sex with me".
His eyes turned this really weird purple color and the woman couldn't stop staring into them. Dave was saying something quietly to her. I realized that he was asking her to be his new co-author. I was like "dude, you're an asshole! I was supposed to write that book with you!" He told me to shut up and then took the European woman off to have sex somewhere. As they were walking away he said "You see, I can fuck anyone I want".
Will apologized to me again and started saying something about divorce. I was like "you mean Dave got divorced?" and Will said "No, Chris got divorced". Suddenly Chris showed up and started saying "Someone needs to help me clean up this mess!" and Will asked me if I wanted to get back together with Chris. I said no, and then Will said "I'll help you do whatever you want" and I told him I wanted to get away from this horrible place.
I started running and Will didn't follow because he was stuck talking to Chris, who was bragging about owning the biggest climbing gym in the world. I got to this area where there was a narrow sidewalk surrounded by buildings on either side. Then these 5 guys came up and I realized they were going to rob me and beat me up. I said "Did you see that giant man? I was with him and if you touch me he'll kill you!" And they said "Well, he isn't here now. And he said he doesn't know you."
Then I was running down this narrow spiral staircase that had barbed wire on the top. The only way I could get my legs to move was to lift them with my hands. I kept cutting myself on the barbed wire. Then, as I got to the end of the spiral staircase, I was on a roof and my family was there. We were supposed to take a helicopter off the top of the building where the spiral staircase had ended. When I looked out over the city skyline I realized I was in Dubai.
I got on the helicopter and the pilot said we couldn't bring my mom because there wasn't enough room. I got off the helicopter and told my mom that. She started crying and I realized she was drunk. My dad started yelling "I told her she couldn't come!" Then I saw that my mom had jumped across a huge gap from her hotel roof to this roof. That was the only way she could get off the building roof. I was afraid she was going to jump and fall because she was drunk. She told me she didn't care if she fell and started running towards the edge of the roof.
Then I woke up.
Saturday, October 31, 2009
artist in residence
So here I am, ensconced in my very nice hotel room in Banff, two days into my artist in residence writing program.
Things got off to an interesting start when I had an unscheduled 30 hour layover in Frankfurt because my company bought such a cheap ticket that I was forcibly bumped from my flight due to overbooking, only to arrive in Denver to massive snow storms. My friend Will kindly picked me up at the airport, fed me, and even helped me pack. The poor thing drove me through a snowstorm to DIA so I could catch my flight to Banff the day after I got to Denver. The flight was delayed, and I ended up getting here at 1 in the morning Friday. Jet lag doesn't even begin to describe how I'm feeling right now. I won't even go into dealing with the switch from 100 degree F temps to 30 degree temps.
Friday at 8 am I had a work con call (was I even there? not really) and then a 10 am orientation for the writing program. I almost fell asleep. The other participants in the program are famous, most of them athletes, they've all published before, and I was getting more and more intimidated as we went around the circle to talk about our projects. I was the last to go, so I started by saying "I think I'm the outlier in the group. I actually have a corporate job." One of the participants said "You mean...you get a paycheck?"
Everyone has made a huge effort to make me feel at home, and I'm embarrassed to say I've been having these insane conversations just because I am finally in a group that can talk about subjects other than farting. The publisher I'm working with is great, and I'm meeting his wife on Monday because she has a similar story to mine.
I met with him one on one this morning. I was worried about the meeting because, on the multiple plane rides out here, I realized I wasn't quite sure what my book was about. We spent most of the 2 hours talking about structure. He gave me a new writing assignment that needs to be done by Sunday night so it can be workshopped next week (I'm the second writer to be workshopped - the first is an award winning, published writer - yeah, no pressure). I wrote for most of the day today, and will be getting up early to finish tomorrow. I spent 5 hours on the writing assignment and am only halfway through (never could say anything in 20 words or less, to quote concrete blonde).
I did take an hour and a half to go to the gym. I ran two miles, felt fine, except that towards the end all the stuff in my lungs started making bad noises. The last 5 minutes of my run I sounded like a rattling car. Right after I got off the treadmill a woman sprayed it down with chemicals. How embarrassing.
But. Carrying on. It's the first time in my life I've had the opportunity to do nothing but write. So, I'm happy.
Things got off to an interesting start when I had an unscheduled 30 hour layover in Frankfurt because my company bought such a cheap ticket that I was forcibly bumped from my flight due to overbooking, only to arrive in Denver to massive snow storms. My friend Will kindly picked me up at the airport, fed me, and even helped me pack. The poor thing drove me through a snowstorm to DIA so I could catch my flight to Banff the day after I got to Denver. The flight was delayed, and I ended up getting here at 1 in the morning Friday. Jet lag doesn't even begin to describe how I'm feeling right now. I won't even go into dealing with the switch from 100 degree F temps to 30 degree temps.
Friday at 8 am I had a work con call (was I even there? not really) and then a 10 am orientation for the writing program. I almost fell asleep. The other participants in the program are famous, most of them athletes, they've all published before, and I was getting more and more intimidated as we went around the circle to talk about our projects. I was the last to go, so I started by saying "I think I'm the outlier in the group. I actually have a corporate job." One of the participants said "You mean...you get a paycheck?"
Everyone has made a huge effort to make me feel at home, and I'm embarrassed to say I've been having these insane conversations just because I am finally in a group that can talk about subjects other than farting. The publisher I'm working with is great, and I'm meeting his wife on Monday because she has a similar story to mine.
I met with him one on one this morning. I was worried about the meeting because, on the multiple plane rides out here, I realized I wasn't quite sure what my book was about. We spent most of the 2 hours talking about structure. He gave me a new writing assignment that needs to be done by Sunday night so it can be workshopped next week (I'm the second writer to be workshopped - the first is an award winning, published writer - yeah, no pressure). I wrote for most of the day today, and will be getting up early to finish tomorrow. I spent 5 hours on the writing assignment and am only halfway through (never could say anything in 20 words or less, to quote concrete blonde).
I did take an hour and a half to go to the gym. I ran two miles, felt fine, except that towards the end all the stuff in my lungs started making bad noises. The last 5 minutes of my run I sounded like a rattling car. Right after I got off the treadmill a woman sprayed it down with chemicals. How embarrassing.
But. Carrying on. It's the first time in my life I've had the opportunity to do nothing but write. So, I'm happy.
Monday, October 26, 2009
commodities
There's a little bar called Chi Chi's on the beach at my hotel. It's pathetic that I've been working so much, and not going out, except when Ireland drags me out, that I didn't even know this bar existed until the bouncer came. He invited me one night to sit with him and have a glass of wine. He goes there every night to work (but only drinks when I'm there - yes, I know, bad influence).
We were hanging out there before my flight to Frankfurt (which left at 2 in the morning, how insane is that) and we started talking about love. He's been married for almost 20 years. He said he thinks that the most important thing any person can learn is how to love. The second most important is to make other people happy.
He was a little taken aback by some of my comments about relationships. I was talking about how hard it is to find a guy that will accept that I have a career and that I might make more money. Sports are a weird thing too. Guys seem to get intimidated by women who are athletic. Then there's the whole travel thing. The only person I know who travels more than I do is my dad.
The bouncer said that in a relationship partners should support each other, and that the success of one should be seen as a success for both. I think women are good at understanding that, but I think most men suck at understanding that. In fact, of all the men I know, I can't think of a single one that is successful in business AND married or partnered with a woman who is as, if not more, successful. I only know a few guys who have wives or partners that work. Bouncer said maybe that's an american thing and that I should move abroad for a while.
The most interesting thing he said had to do with sex. We were talking about how neither of us watch tv. I mentioned that the few times I'm exposed to the tv in the gym I'm appalled by the shit they show (that's the main reason I turn off all the tvs in the gym, even though it drives the trainer nuts and he turns them all back on as soon as I leave). The bouncer was talking about generations, and he said that our generation (we're around the same age) was raised to think love is the most important things. Younger people are more focused on material wealth. The generation before us was more about "free love".
I asked him what he thought about that since, culturally, the country he comes from supports the idea of free love, and not committing to a single partner (I say this not because I'm an expert in his country's culture, but because of what I've read on the web and in the news). He said when you have relationships where the driving factor is sex, and that you are not having sex because you love the person, you are commoditizing sex. I thought that was a very profound thing to say, and it makes a lot of sense to me.
Love is something I often wonder about, and try to understand, because most of the time it seems so fucked up. But if you look at it from the bouncer's perspective, things are a little clearer. People who are trying to get other people to have sex with them not because they care but because they want to show some kind of ownership...makes perfect sense.
I am hoping the bouncer is still there when I get back to dhabi. We've had a lot of interesting conversations.
We were hanging out there before my flight to Frankfurt (which left at 2 in the morning, how insane is that) and we started talking about love. He's been married for almost 20 years. He said he thinks that the most important thing any person can learn is how to love. The second most important is to make other people happy.
He was a little taken aback by some of my comments about relationships. I was talking about how hard it is to find a guy that will accept that I have a career and that I might make more money. Sports are a weird thing too. Guys seem to get intimidated by women who are athletic. Then there's the whole travel thing. The only person I know who travels more than I do is my dad.
The bouncer said that in a relationship partners should support each other, and that the success of one should be seen as a success for both. I think women are good at understanding that, but I think most men suck at understanding that. In fact, of all the men I know, I can't think of a single one that is successful in business AND married or partnered with a woman who is as, if not more, successful. I only know a few guys who have wives or partners that work. Bouncer said maybe that's an american thing and that I should move abroad for a while.
The most interesting thing he said had to do with sex. We were talking about how neither of us watch tv. I mentioned that the few times I'm exposed to the tv in the gym I'm appalled by the shit they show (that's the main reason I turn off all the tvs in the gym, even though it drives the trainer nuts and he turns them all back on as soon as I leave). The bouncer was talking about generations, and he said that our generation (we're around the same age) was raised to think love is the most important things. Younger people are more focused on material wealth. The generation before us was more about "free love".
I asked him what he thought about that since, culturally, the country he comes from supports the idea of free love, and not committing to a single partner (I say this not because I'm an expert in his country's culture, but because of what I've read on the web and in the news). He said when you have relationships where the driving factor is sex, and that you are not having sex because you love the person, you are commoditizing sex. I thought that was a very profound thing to say, and it makes a lot of sense to me.
Love is something I often wonder about, and try to understand, because most of the time it seems so fucked up. But if you look at it from the bouncer's perspective, things are a little clearer. People who are trying to get other people to have sex with them not because they care but because they want to show some kind of ownership...makes perfect sense.
I am hoping the bouncer is still there when I get back to dhabi. We've had a lot of interesting conversations.
cutting the cheese
I don't know why, but I seem to be bringing out the most immature side of my team. Even Ireland, after sitting in a car with three of my team members, listening to us laughing about fart jokes, said I'm a bad influence. The fart joke, as told by Texas Kid: Two saudi guys wanted to get drunk but obviously there's no alcohol in the kingdom. One of them reads on the internet that drinking jet fuel causes a buzz. So the two guys drink jet fuel and go home. The next day one calls the other and says "How are you feeling after drinking jet fuel?" and the other says "I'm fine, but don't fart". "Why not?" the first guy inquires. "Because I'm 200 km away" the other responds.
The joke is funny at 5 o'clock in the morning when you've only gotten a few hours of sleep.
Anyway, the other day I was sitting in the office and someone had once again switched out my chair. I tried to lower it to fit under my desk, turned a screw, and the bottom side of the chair fell apart. Hm, I thought, and continued on with my work. When I went to turn around the chair tilted precariously to the right side. I almost fell out of it.
I tried to fix it, but couldn't. So I switched my chair out with Texas Kid's chair. He sat in it a few minutes later and almost fell out of it as well. We started laughing and calling it the fart chair because he would tilt the chair over in my direction and pretend to fart, especially when I was asking him the status of his tasks to update the project plan.
Texas Kid had also brought in some swiss cheese. Many jokes about cutting the cheese ensued. The bouncer came in at one point while we were making these jokes, but he didn't say anything. At some point, as always happens, I started to get pissed about something and went off on a little tirade. Bouncer said "Uh oh, Franki's cutting the cheese!"
Texas Kid and I looked at each other and started laughing hysterically. It turns out, the bouncer thought the expression meant getting angry and yelling at people. He asked me the origin of the expression but I have no idea where it came from. Texas Kid got a lot of mileage out of that one. Every time I tried to talk to him he would say "Franki, are you about to start cutting the cheese?"
I introduced them to the expressions "going postal" and "I love me jacket" (a straitjacket, that courtesy of Jeffy). I also explained to them "stove piped organizations" and "pulling off the kid gloves".
I guess Ireland is right. I am a bad influence.
Another totally inappropriate joke going around the office among the pakis: A paki guy is really depressed so he calls a suicide hot line. The person answers and the guy says "I'm so depressed I want to die." The hot line guy responds "Well, do you know how to drive a truck?"
I bet my dad is going to yell at me for putting that joke out here...
The joke is funny at 5 o'clock in the morning when you've only gotten a few hours of sleep.
Anyway, the other day I was sitting in the office and someone had once again switched out my chair. I tried to lower it to fit under my desk, turned a screw, and the bottom side of the chair fell apart. Hm, I thought, and continued on with my work. When I went to turn around the chair tilted precariously to the right side. I almost fell out of it.
I tried to fix it, but couldn't. So I switched my chair out with Texas Kid's chair. He sat in it a few minutes later and almost fell out of it as well. We started laughing and calling it the fart chair because he would tilt the chair over in my direction and pretend to fart, especially when I was asking him the status of his tasks to update the project plan.
Texas Kid had also brought in some swiss cheese. Many jokes about cutting the cheese ensued. The bouncer came in at one point while we were making these jokes, but he didn't say anything. At some point, as always happens, I started to get pissed about something and went off on a little tirade. Bouncer said "Uh oh, Franki's cutting the cheese!"
Texas Kid and I looked at each other and started laughing hysterically. It turns out, the bouncer thought the expression meant getting angry and yelling at people. He asked me the origin of the expression but I have no idea where it came from. Texas Kid got a lot of mileage out of that one. Every time I tried to talk to him he would say "Franki, are you about to start cutting the cheese?"
I introduced them to the expressions "going postal" and "I love me jacket" (a straitjacket, that courtesy of Jeffy). I also explained to them "stove piped organizations" and "pulling off the kid gloves".
I guess Ireland is right. I am a bad influence.
Another totally inappropriate joke going around the office among the pakis: A paki guy is really depressed so he calls a suicide hot line. The person answers and the guy says "I'm so depressed I want to die." The hot line guy responds "Well, do you know how to drive a truck?"
I bet my dad is going to yell at me for putting that joke out here...
Sunday, October 25, 2009
octoberfest
They had a three day octoberfest celebration at my hotel. Ireland made reservations for us to go on Friday.
We have a new team member, from Sweden, and I immediately nicknamed him "the Bouncer" because he's been good at stepping in between me and who ever is having a problem with me at the office. He's a typical tall, burly swedish guy, and he's very sweet. But, I found out that he was upset at first that I called him the bouncer because apparently there is some show in Europe that has a dog called bouncer on it, and he thought I was insulting him.
Anyway, the bouncer and I got to octoberfest, which was set up on the tennis courts here at the hotel. There were flags across the top of the courts, and plaster statues of two germans, two horses, and a weird cow in one corner. The cow was about half the size of the horses, and nowhere close to the size of a real cow. Some people who were drunk picked the cow up half way through the night and ran around the tennis courts with it.
Ireland and her friend M showed up and we went to get food. Everything was pork, which I don't eat, except for one section that had sauerkraut, a weird purple salad thing, cooked carrots, and these balls of something that tasted like flour. I only got the balls because I thought they were potatoes. They looked like potatoes.
Anyway, as the night progressed I was getting drunk, due to being dehydrated from the beach, as well as the meds I'm taking for my bronchitis. At some point M ordered shots of schnapps, but after one sip I decided there was no way I was going to finish the shot. I dumped it in the bouncer's glass while he wasn't looking (he was filming these insane people dancing on a table next to us - I was sure the table was going to collapse).
At some point I decided to read everyone's palms. I told Ireland she was going to get married and have an affair. I told the bouncer that I thought he was going to have a short life. This bothered him so much that he had a nightmare about it. He told me that he dreamed we were in a meeting and I said "I've done some models to show that you will have a short life", and then I started showing him architecture diagrams. The dream was so bad that he woke up at 430 in the morning and couldn't go back to sleep. Oops.
I was somehow talked into procuring some shot glasses and putting them in my bag before we left. It was kind of funny because as I was walking I was making a clinking sound and everyone was freaking out but me. Luckily the security at the party was distracted by these two idiots that decided they wanted to have their pictures taken on the horse. They jumped up on the horse and the legs broke off the horse. It was really funny but also sad. Then they tried to pick up the horse and run around with it, but security stopped them.
We ended up going to my room. M laid down on my bed and Ireland ate all my patchi chocolates that the hotel staff keeps leaving on my pillow. Someone had given me a bottle of champagne so they drank that, and we also finished a bottle of wine. The next morning when I woke up I was like "what happened to my room????" because there were glasses everywhere, and a big ice bucket. I think I got to bed around 4 am.
I got Ireland to promise to take me next time she goes home because I've never been to Ireland. Of course, I don't know if I could survive the trip, if it's anything like octoberfest.
We have a new team member, from Sweden, and I immediately nicknamed him "the Bouncer" because he's been good at stepping in between me and who ever is having a problem with me at the office. He's a typical tall, burly swedish guy, and he's very sweet. But, I found out that he was upset at first that I called him the bouncer because apparently there is some show in Europe that has a dog called bouncer on it, and he thought I was insulting him.
Anyway, the bouncer and I got to octoberfest, which was set up on the tennis courts here at the hotel. There were flags across the top of the courts, and plaster statues of two germans, two horses, and a weird cow in one corner. The cow was about half the size of the horses, and nowhere close to the size of a real cow. Some people who were drunk picked the cow up half way through the night and ran around the tennis courts with it.
Ireland and her friend M showed up and we went to get food. Everything was pork, which I don't eat, except for one section that had sauerkraut, a weird purple salad thing, cooked carrots, and these balls of something that tasted like flour. I only got the balls because I thought they were potatoes. They looked like potatoes.
Anyway, as the night progressed I was getting drunk, due to being dehydrated from the beach, as well as the meds I'm taking for my bronchitis. At some point M ordered shots of schnapps, but after one sip I decided there was no way I was going to finish the shot. I dumped it in the bouncer's glass while he wasn't looking (he was filming these insane people dancing on a table next to us - I was sure the table was going to collapse).
At some point I decided to read everyone's palms. I told Ireland she was going to get married and have an affair. I told the bouncer that I thought he was going to have a short life. This bothered him so much that he had a nightmare about it. He told me that he dreamed we were in a meeting and I said "I've done some models to show that you will have a short life", and then I started showing him architecture diagrams. The dream was so bad that he woke up at 430 in the morning and couldn't go back to sleep. Oops.
I was somehow talked into procuring some shot glasses and putting them in my bag before we left. It was kind of funny because as I was walking I was making a clinking sound and everyone was freaking out but me. Luckily the security at the party was distracted by these two idiots that decided they wanted to have their pictures taken on the horse. They jumped up on the horse and the legs broke off the horse. It was really funny but also sad. Then they tried to pick up the horse and run around with it, but security stopped them.
We ended up going to my room. M laid down on my bed and Ireland ate all my patchi chocolates that the hotel staff keeps leaving on my pillow. Someone had given me a bottle of champagne so they drank that, and we also finished a bottle of wine. The next morning when I woke up I was like "what happened to my room????" because there were glasses everywhere, and a big ice bucket. I think I got to bed around 4 am.
I got Ireland to promise to take me next time she goes home because I've never been to Ireland. Of course, I don't know if I could survive the trip, if it's anything like octoberfest.
catastrophe averted...hopefully
This morning I got to work stressed out because I had a presentation for a very high ranking officer and there was no news on my passport. I was worried I'd have to go to Dubai immigration and didn't know how I was going to do that since I had my presentation. Matters got worse when I found out I had to do the presentation in another building, which I couldn't get into, because they required my passport, which I didn't have.
I was talking to one of the officers, who was teasing me about leaving, and I told him I couldn't leave due to my passport issues. I also mentioned to him that I couldn't get into the building where I was supposed to do my presentation.
He called the military guy I work for, who called the high ranking officer, who said he would call immigration and get everything straightened out. An hour later my passport was delivered to me. Also, the officer I was supposed to brief told me to wait until I come back here to come see him because he didn't want me to be stressed and tired before leaving for Canada.
What a great guy.
So, the day ended up well, except that, when I got back to the hotel and tried to check in on my flight, the check in didn't work. That's when I looked at my itinerary and realized my last name is spelled wrong. I called the airline and the travel agent, and they both said that it's no big deal. We'll see when I get to the airport.
Hopefully I'll be in Canada in a few days and not still in Abu Dhabi waiting for my ticket to get straightened out.
I was talking to one of the officers, who was teasing me about leaving, and I told him I couldn't leave due to my passport issues. I also mentioned to him that I couldn't get into the building where I was supposed to do my presentation.
He called the military guy I work for, who called the high ranking officer, who said he would call immigration and get everything straightened out. An hour later my passport was delivered to me. Also, the officer I was supposed to brief told me to wait until I come back here to come see him because he didn't want me to be stressed and tired before leaving for Canada.
What a great guy.
So, the day ended up well, except that, when I got back to the hotel and tried to check in on my flight, the check in didn't work. That's when I looked at my itinerary and realized my last name is spelled wrong. I called the airline and the travel agent, and they both said that it's no big deal. We'll see when I get to the airport.
Hopefully I'll be in Canada in a few days and not still in Abu Dhabi waiting for my ticket to get straightened out.
Friday, October 23, 2009
death by doughnut
First, a funny story. Texas Kid was upstairs in the conference room with me waiting for me to start a presentation. He found a box of doughnuts, and ate some of them. It turns out the doughnuts were for the base commander to eat during my presentation. Worse, Texas Kid ate the commander's favorite flavor doughnuts. We pretended we didn't know what happened to the doughnuts when the meeting started.
Then, I got a call back finally from the [insert bad word that begins with B] who is supposed to be processing my visa, and who is a total twit from the UK. I am supposed to leave at 2 am monday morning for Banff, and, as thursday is the last working day of the week, was wondering why I didn't have my passport back.
Turns out B has the flu. Yeah, I'm sympathetic. I've been going to work with bronchitis for the past two weeks. She didn't follow up with the PRO to see if my passport was ready. Worse, they were supposed to expedite it so that I could have it back Thursday. But B outright lied to me and said that wouldn't be possible (I confirmed it IS possible with the immigration office).
So, I may or may not get my passport back in time to leave on Monday. Worse, B, who is about the rudest person I've dealt with here, told me if I wanted my passport back I could go down to immigration and get it myself. I pointed out to her that it's HER job and what she is getting paid for. She said "I have the flu" and hung up on me.
I called back to try to get the number of the PRO to make sure his ass is in the immigration office Sunday to pick up my passport. She refused to give the number to me. Other things have happened, but I won't go into them now, except to say that she wanted me to email her my travel itinerary to prove I had to leave on Monday (I should note when I gave her my passport almost three weeks ago she assured me it would only take 7 days to process it, and when I checked with her on Sunday she said I would have my passport back by Tuesday - I also told her a million times that I had to leave on Monday).
So, I have a screaming pain in my stomach from my ulcer, I may arrive for my class late, and my ticket, assuming I can change my existing one, is going to cost a fortune. I have never experienced such incompetence in my life. If I ever see B again I am going to have to restrain myself to not punch her in the face for lying to me and then being rude.
In the mean time, an Iraqi colleague of mine is going to immigration for me on Sunday morning because he has contacts there and thinks he can help me. Allah willing...
And I'm going to tell the base commander that B ate his doughnuts.
Then, I got a call back finally from the [insert bad word that begins with B] who is supposed to be processing my visa, and who is a total twit from the UK. I am supposed to leave at 2 am monday morning for Banff, and, as thursday is the last working day of the week, was wondering why I didn't have my passport back.
Turns out B has the flu. Yeah, I'm sympathetic. I've been going to work with bronchitis for the past two weeks. She didn't follow up with the PRO to see if my passport was ready. Worse, they were supposed to expedite it so that I could have it back Thursday. But B outright lied to me and said that wouldn't be possible (I confirmed it IS possible with the immigration office).
So, I may or may not get my passport back in time to leave on Monday. Worse, B, who is about the rudest person I've dealt with here, told me if I wanted my passport back I could go down to immigration and get it myself. I pointed out to her that it's HER job and what she is getting paid for. She said "I have the flu" and hung up on me.
I called back to try to get the number of the PRO to make sure his ass is in the immigration office Sunday to pick up my passport. She refused to give the number to me. Other things have happened, but I won't go into them now, except to say that she wanted me to email her my travel itinerary to prove I had to leave on Monday (I should note when I gave her my passport almost three weeks ago she assured me it would only take 7 days to process it, and when I checked with her on Sunday she said I would have my passport back by Tuesday - I also told her a million times that I had to leave on Monday).
So, I have a screaming pain in my stomach from my ulcer, I may arrive for my class late, and my ticket, assuming I can change my existing one, is going to cost a fortune. I have never experienced such incompetence in my life. If I ever see B again I am going to have to restrain myself to not punch her in the face for lying to me and then being rude.
In the mean time, an Iraqi colleague of mine is going to immigration for me on Sunday morning because he has contacts there and thinks he can help me. Allah willing...
And I'm going to tell the base commander that B ate his doughnuts.
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