I love you a lot, with all of my soul.....without you I'm nothing, a butterless roll.

I watched Mr. Deeds today and that line just made me laugh and laugh so despite it's complete inadequacy as a description of my NY trip I made it my title so I can keep laughing and laughing.

I spent this past week in New York visiting with my MaleBFF Jackass Ronnie. After some trouble with the airlines (randomly cancelled flight and then majorly delayed alternate flight) I made it to his place around 2am Monday evening. My darling Jackass Ronnie picked me up at the airport and shuttled me back to his place with a rather limited amount of bitching and a lot of scary driving.

[Actually those are both blatent lies. I have the texts to prove the bitching and my heart is still in my throat from the driving. But he showed up, which is a Huge Bonus.]

I have absolutely no pictures of my trip, mainly because A) I forgot to grab my camera each and every time we left the house and B) I simply had too much fun every single minute and didn't want to see my city/peeps from behind a viewfinder. I'd have to say this was the best trip I've had to NY thus far, even beating the time I went with college friends over spring break and we were accosted by homeless people and crazy cabbies.

Tuesday was spent literally playing video games alllll day long in Ron's basement. I realize that to probably 99% of you reading this that sounds like an absolutely retarded use of vacation-time-in-NY but honestly this trip wasn't really about seeing the city (which I've done many many times before) but more about seeing my boy who I missed terribly over the last few months. After watching him slay an infinite amount of creepy looking creatures, we switched over to something more my style (Mario Party) and he beat me mercilessly twice.

Oh, and our breakfast consisted of steak (one for each of us), pigs in blankets, yogurt (him), banana (me), and a bagel with cream cheese (me) and lox (him). I love when a boy makes me a Proper Breakfast.

[Side Note: I only made one mistake using the wrong knife for my cream cheese. Which is actually a pretty bad one from what I understand. So perhaps that's not something to be proud of...whatevs.]

Tuesday night we went into the city to meet up with some of his friends for dinner/drinks. I have to admit, I was incredibly curious to meet these people who put up with him. They were not what I was expecting at all (read: nice and friendly and not mean). We had Thai for dinner (yum!) and then made our way down to the Hotel Gansevoort in the meat packing district for some drinks. My Godmother's son Ariel works in the rooftop bar there and I always make it a point to visit him.

Doesn't look like much meat packing is done here.

I was quite amused watching Ron and Mike drink their grapefruit cosmos which were Super Yummy but also pink and served in martini glasses. Apparently in the city it's not very uncommon for hetero men to walk around sporting frou-frou drinks, but from this southern girl's perspective they were standing way too close to each other while drinking them.

Wednesday I worked off my hangover with a fantastic breakfast in Ron's town (I can still taste that bagel and not in a bad way) and then spent the day pretty much the same way as before. You may say we were wasting time. I call it our Bonding Time.

Wednesday night we headed back into the city, with the intention of sleeping over in a friend's apartment. This freed us up for some massive drinking without the perils of driving. Dinner was at a very pricey but super yummy steakhouse, where I ate a fillet the size of my head. Well, I ate like 80% of it and Ron picked up the scraps. We transitioned at another friend of Ron's, then mosied over to a nondescript bar for many libations and much debauchery. I'm a little fuzzy on the how we got home but I believe it involved some walking and perhaps a cab ride.

By the way, did I mention the fact that it was absolutely freezing cold the entire week and I'm from Florida where its never freezing cold and where you also can't buy boots or sweaters or coats past February and all I had to wear were these strappy black heels that are completely awesome except when its freezing cold? They mocked me.

On the plus side at least I have a fabulous tan. I can't tell you how much people remarked on my pre-cancerous skin. With awe and envy. Sigh. I truly believe the only benefit to the cold in my opinion is the absolute need for a completely different wardrobe. I mean, when it's warm all year round it's hard to have an excuse to buy 'seasonal' clothes. I love pea coats and trenches, but really when the temp doesn't drop past 60 all year round what is the point?

On the other hand, I did get to wear my Super Awesome knitted scarf and gloves. I actually finished the other glove on the plane ride up to NY. Again, lots of mocking from the locals who have glaringly white extremely thick skin.

Oh, and thanks to all of the very sweet NY Boys who continued to argue with me about my age, even after jackass Ronnie happily confirmed it. I love you all and will have your babies/marry you/whatevs.

Anyhow, Thursday we took our time getting moving in the morning (we were a bit "fragile") and I headed out to have lunch with Elisabeth (Ariel's mom). The boys met us down there for coffee and then we three headed over to the Natural History museum for some geeking out. I'm pretty sure Mike was quite annoyed amused by our absolute retardedness childlike fun around science and animals. I mean, who doesn't like hanging out with two people who name and describe the history of every single purebred dog they walk by? Way Super Fun.

Thursday night we returned to Ron's hood for some local sushi (holyshititwasamazing) and drinks. I was coerced (serious coercion, I swear) into playing Beer Pong for the first time in my life (I swear, first time!). I was dumbfounded by the professional beer pong tables (my previous knowledge only seeing plywood sheets on sawhorses...ah, Island Life) and after a rough start and some encouragement from my partner Mike we kicked ass three times. I came to love this game, since as we all know I Love Beer, but it was difficult to understand the concept of winning the game does not equal I get to drink all of the beer. Boo.

Um, yeah....anyone else get the HeeBeeGeeBees when you watch peeps routinely cleanse the ping pong ball in the same glass of icky water? I'm really glad I had those pre-game drinks so my brain wasn't fully recognizing the germiness at that moment.

Friday morning was a quick steak breakfast (I heart you Ron) and off to fight traffic for the flight home. I have to admit, I had sooooo much fun on this trip that I seriously considered "missing" my flight home just so I could stay in the city that much longer. But as a "grown-up" person I had to understand that at this moment that is just not happening.

But you can bet your ass I will be back.

And I will ROCK some beer pong/steakhouses/general debauchery.

It is SO on.

Le Sigh.

This Is SPARTA!

Yesterday I spent the morning with Dad at the fairgrounds volunteering for a horse show.

Trust me, it sounds soooo much better than it really was.

To be honest, it was kinda like watching paint dry.

As I sat there for three hours opening and closing the exit gate I was able to observe the weird world that is Western Horse Shows. Like for example, do the amount of rhinestones directly affect the rider's chances? None of the men wore tight sparkly shirts, and yet a number of them won. Perhaps it is belt buckle size that truly determines a rider's worth. That and their gigantic hat. Can you not ride a horse western-style without the hat? Does the horse attempt to buck riders without hats?

I mean seriously, some of those women looked like Cher on a horse.

It's also seriously creepy walking in front of a line of nervous horses standing around waiting their turn in the ring. You could feel the nervousness emanating from the riders and horses. Needless to say I kept my hands to myself and gave them a wide berth.

One of the elements of the competition required the riders to lope. Not being familiar with riding in any way I have to say those horses reminded me of Quasimodo limping around the bell tower. Its like they were making fun of retarded children.

And lastly: fake tails. These horses had the most gorgeous tails I've ever seen (no obvious signs of pinworm infections), and turns out the damn things were fake! What's next? Highlights and fake nails?

Nuts.

This morning was my court appearance for the traffic ticket I ranted about here. I came equipped with pictures of the intersection, timing of the light sequence, and my fabulous Lawyer.

After buzzing through the security system and waiting outside for about twenty minutes, all of us 'defendants' were shown into the court room and asked to take a seat and be quiet. Apparently no one bothered to tell the thirty or so police officers in the back few rows the rules because it was basically a giant Cop Party back there. I'm pretty sure they were all trying to pick out their victims and compare who gave the most ridiculous ticket.

After some yahoo went through his cases, we were called up first. Basically this is what happened, all within about a 1 minute period:

Lawyer and I walked up to the stand and Magistrate asked if this was a hearing (which I was like, um yeah?) and Lawyer said something about yes or no (that part was a bit technical for me) and then Magistrate started to dismiss the case when Cop came striding up from the Cop Party in the back of the room and he was all "Are you serious?" and Lawyer was all "Oh, I've chosen my words carefully, Persian. Perhaps you should have done the same!" and Cop was all "This is blasphemy! This is madness!" and Lawyer was all "Madness?.....This is Sparta!" and then he righteously kicked Cop out of the courtroom.

Actually, I sort of blacked out from nervousness when we walked up to the stand so most of that could possibly maybe have been exaggerated a little bit. Or stolen from a movie.

Either way, Victory Is MINE!!

Personality tests are only worth the paper they are printed on. I think some guy named Carl said that.

Twice now I've taken a Myers-Briggs personality test, most recently here. Twice now I've gotten (almost) the same score: ISFJ (before it was INFJ).

* * * * * * * * * *

· Where you focus your attention

What MB says: Introversion (I) — People who prefer Introversion tend to focus their attention on the inner world of ideas and impressions.

What I say: Basically I'm a selfish bitch who prefers to be in the company of Me. That way I know I won't get annoyed by fuckwits. And I spend most of my time daydreaming about things that will never happen.

· The way you take in information

What MB says: Sensing (S) — Jung saw Introvert/Sensing as something of an oxymoron: sensing, which is a perceiving function, focused inward and thus away from that which is perceived (the "object"). In this light, he described this sensing as something removed from reality, full of archetypes/mythical figures/hobgoblins; sensing of one's own set of forms.

What I say: Who the hell are you calling a moron? And I am completely grounded in reality. I know everything there is to know about Edward Cullen, King Arthur, Harry Potter and Brit Brit.

· The way you make decisions

What MB says: Feeling (F) — People who prefer Feeling tend to make decisions based primarily on values and on subjective evaluation of person-centered concerns.

What I say: I am retarded and listen to my heart instead of my head 9 times out of 10. Basically that means I end up getting screwed by all of the Thinkers out there who see Feeling as a fault and take advantage. Oh, and I can't make a single freaking decision without consulting at least 3 people. Fail.

· How you deal with the outer world

What MB says: Judging (J) — People who prefer Judging tend to like a planned and organized approach to life and prefer to have things settled.

What I say: I have OCD.

* * * * * * * * * *

It seems my personality type (both old and new) is very rare. I think the percentage is something like less than 5% of a typical group of people, smaller in smaller groups. At Ross when we split up based on our first two types (introvert and intuitive) my group totalled 8 out of 120+/- people. I think there was only one other person with my exact INFJ type.

I've always known I'm unique.

The funny thing is FR took this test today and emailed me her results: INFJ. As in, out of 9 students in our class, both of us are the same. Assuming no one else in the group has anything close to us, we have broken through expectations and will be 20% of our group.

I can just see it now: FR and I are going to be these two troublemakers smart chicks who Introvertly claim our seats in the back corner, Intuitively cowering when the prof is getting ready to call on someone, Feeling the need to flee when our name is called, and Judging our sanity in choosing to go to vet school at all when our wish to become immediately invisible is not granted.

Well that last bit is probably more me and my lack of living in reality/belief in hobgoblins.

Whatevs.

This shit's gonna be Super Fun. Bring it on, bitches.

(If you're bored and want to know more about my personality, read on. If not, you suck.)

(I added amusing anecdotes and bolded the points that really don't sound like me at all.)

* * * * * * * * * *

Introverted Sensing Feeling Judging
by Marina Margaret Heiss

ISFJs are characterized above all by their desire to serve others [read: The Servant Leader], their "need to be needed." In extreme cases, this need is so strong that standard give-and-take relationships are deeply unsatisfying to them; however, most ISFJs find more than enough with which to occupy themselves within the framework of a normal life. [What does the mean exactly?] (Since ISFJs, like all SJs, are very much bound by the prevailing social conventions, their form of "service" is likely to exclude any elements of moral or political controversy; they specialize in the local, the personal, and the practical.)

ISFJs are often unappreciated, at work, home, and play. Ironically, because they prove over and over that they can be relied on for their loyalty and unstinting, high-quality work, those around them often take them for granted--even take advantage of them. Admittedly, the problem is sometimes aggravated by the ISFJs themselves [oh sure, dump it back on the giver, always their fault]; for instance, they are notoriously bad at delegating ("If you want it done right, do it yourself"). And although they're hurt by being treated like doormats, they are often unwilling to toot their own horns about their accomplishments because they feel that although they deserve more credit than they're getting, it's somehow wrong to want any sort of reward for doing work (which is supposed to be a virtue in itself). [Okay, this is just freaking scary.] (And as low-profile I's, their actions don't call attention to themselves as with charismatic E's.) Because of all of this, ISFJs are often overworked, and as a result may suffer from psychosomatic illnesses. [Holy Shit I think I just peed a little from laughing.]

In the workplace, ISFJs are methodical and accurate workers, often with very good memories [my ADD gets in the way here] and unexpected analytic abilities; they are also good with people in small-group or one-on-one situations because of their patient and genuinely sympathetic approach to dealing with others. ISFJs make pleasant and reliable co-workers and exemplary employees [unless they are Cancers, we tend towards moodiness which trust me can get real old, real quick], but tend to be harried and uncomfortable in supervisory roles. [I nearly lost my mind at the shelter. Now we know why.] They are capable of forming strong loyalties, but these are personal rather than institutional loyalties; if someone they've bonded with in this way leaves the company, the ISFJ will leave with them, if given the option. [I will follow you anywhere J.] Traditional careers for an ISFJ include: teaching [my first major], social work [recommended by my therapist], most religious work [If its good enough for The Bloggess.....], nursing, medicine (general practice only) [Hells yeah!], clerical and and secretarial work of any kind, and some kinds of administrative careers.

While their work ethic is high on the ISFJ priority list, their families are the centers of their lives. ISFJs are extremely warm and demonstrative within the family circle--and often possessive of their loved ones, as well. [Good thing I have no siblings. I'd probably 'remove' their significant others in very creative ways.] When these include Es who want to socialize with the rest of the world, or self-contained ITs, the ISFJ must learn to adjust to these behaviors and not interpret them as rejection. [We are so F-ed up.] Being SJs, they place a strong emphasis on conventional behavior (although, unlike STJs, they are usually as concerned with being "nice" as with strict propriety); if any of their nearest and dearest depart from the straight-and-narrow, it causes the ISFJ major embarrassment: the closer the relationship and the more public the act, the more intense the embarrassment (a fact which many of their teenage children take gleeful advantage of). Over time, however, ISFJs usually mellow, and learn to regard the culprits as harmless eccentrics. [Interesting, I've always thought of myself as the harmless eccentric.] Needless to say, ISFJs take infinite trouble over meals, gifts, celebrations, etc., for their loved ones [Insane how true] -- although strong Js may tend to focus more on what the recipient should want rather than what they do want.

Like most Is, ISFJs have a few, close friends. They are extremely loyal to these, and are ready to provide emotional and practical support at a moment's notice. (However, like most Fs they hate confrontation; if you get into a fight, don't expect them to jump in after you. You can count on them, however, run and get the nearest authority figure. [Hilarious. And so true.]) Unlike with EPs, the older the friendship is, the more an ISFJ will value it. One ISFJ trait that is easily misunderstood by those who haven't known them long is that they are often unable to either hide or articulate any distress they may be feeling. [Get out of my head.] For instance, an ISFJ child may be reproved for "sulking," the actual cause of which is a combination of physical illness plus misguided "good manners." An adult ISFJ may drive a (later ashamed) friend or SO into a fit of temper over the ISFJ's unexplained moodiness, only afterwards to explain about a death in the family they "didn't want to burden anyone with." Those close to ISFJs should learn to watch for the warning signs in these situations and take the initiative themselves to uncover the problem. [Hahaha. Oh wait....Yeah.]

* * * * * * * * * *

Hmm. Maybe there is something to these tests.

You can pick your nose, but you can't pick your family. Or something like that.

Nowadays the word Family has become synonymous with negatives like Divorce and Inbreeding Dysfunctional and Custody Agreements.

I can count the number of my friends with families who are still the same cohesive unit as they were in my childhood on my left foot. And while I still retain all of my toes thankyouverymuch, unfortunately that reference would still work if I stepped on a land mine and lost a few.

Please understand I have a very broad definition of family. I was raised an only child, however if you asked me growing up I would say I’ve got lots of brothers out there. People tended to raise their eyebrows at that answer and give my father a knowing look (he was in the Peace Corps in Columbia you know), but I wasn’t referring to blood relatives. Because to me, blood does not always a family make. I think Yoda said that.

(Apparently all of my parent’s friends shot out Y chromosomes because I was the only girl amongst many many boys.)

For me, I was raised alongside another family who my parents met when their first son was very young and I was not yet a zygote. This other couple, Lynn and Dave, became my Other Parents and their sons Brad and Sean became my brothers. Brad is two years older (and the father of The Cutest Baby in the Whole World) and Sean is ten days older than me (and the father of no children that we are aware of). These boys tortured me and stuck up for me and shaped me as if I were their real sister. I couldn’t have asked for a better Other Family.

Without offending my own parents, who mean a great deal to me, I have to say Lynn and Dave both influenced me greatly during the years when a person is just figuring out how to make their life their own. Lynn taught me to be my own person, to have pride in myself, to do things my own way and at my own pace. Dave showed me a more conservative side of the world, taught me that there is a proper way to do things, and instilled in me a healthy concept of the word respect. I saw from a very early age that they were completely different people from my own parents and I was so lucky to have them.

All of our family events/holidays/etc. involved Lynn and Dave and the kids. We lived far enough away from each other that I wasn’t in school with the boys or involved in their daily lives; yet through the years our relationships have grown stronger than most we had with the kids we went to school with for years. I have fond memories of them reading my diaries aloud at Family Events or undressing my Barbies and posing them provocatively; typical boy behavior that would induce a tantrum in me then but would receive retribution from me now.

(Not that I still write in diaries or play with Barbies. That would just be weird.)

(Off topic: Have you seen some of the outfits Barbie comes in now? Might as well be called Slut Barbie or Whore Barbie.)

These Family Events were occasions of great frivolity and lots of alcohol consumption. The conversations ranged from politics to pop art to The Simpsons. There were always stories about cultural experiences, travel excursions, and personal history. It’s sad, but I’m willing to bet I learned more about history and culture through those Family Events than I ever learned in school. And as with any family, there were opinions.

Boy, were there opinions.

Oh, and stubbornness. That, too.

(Not always a good mix. Especially with alcohol.)

But despite the arguments and the loud voices all trying to talk over each other and the occasional hurt pride that caused periodic silences we were a family.

In fact, it is those arguments/loud voices/silences that taught me a great deal about how to communicate with people – both the positive and negative ways. I learned how to read people’s emotions and personalities, how to discuss heated topics without imposing my opinion on someone (or how to impose, depending on the situation), and most importantly how to diplomatically accede to another even when I’m not anywhere near their ballpark.

As we’ve gotten older and us kids have grown up and started families/lives of our own these Family Events have become fewer and father in between as well as smaller in number. Stories are told repeatedly to ensure everyone is up-to-date on everyone else. Family Events are as much about catching up with each other’s present and future as they were about learning about the past. The absentees are sorely missed as everyone’s personality brought something different to the table.

Tonight as I sat at the table with my folks and Lynn, I couldn’t help but miss the days with no elbow room and subtly exchanging place cards so that I was situated near people I preferred. (Don’t be judgy, you totally did that too.) The table has gotten quieter and the conversation is much easier to follow but the large family feel has gone.

But the eccentric topics have remained fantastically amazing, as always.

We discussed the inevitable book that Sean, Brad and I will write one day about our highly dysfunctional and yet thoroughly amazing family dynamic. We will each bring a perspective to the stories, mine probably focusing on the psychology of our family and what it has cost us in therapy bills how it has shaped us as people. There will be laughter and tears and probably defamation lawsuits and hopefully a Pulitzer Prize.

We also discussed the movie rights and who would play each of us. Needless to say it’s quite the unique group of actors all of whom have probably never acted together in a screenplay ever. Which when you think about it might make it one of the most uniquely interesting flicks…well…ever.

(And I fully expect that you, my faithful 7 readers, to be the first in line at my book signing.)

(Because if you aren’t, I’m liable to cry at the table surrounded by piles of my books and no one who cares. Or cares enough to buy it in hardcover anyhow.)

PS. This book writing thing has been a long-standing joke in our family, but I can’t help but wonder if it won’t be Alex, the first grandchild of the group, who actually writes the damn thing. He is a Boy Genius, after all. And he’s inheriting a second-generation dysfunctional family who will no doubt fill the book with many titillating stories.

(I just used titillating for the first time ever. Ever since I learned that word I’ve always thought it was too dirty to use in public. I’d rather say Fuck than titillating. True story.)

Where the hell did the last year go?

Today we celebrated the first birthday of The Cutest Baby in the Whole World (and I'm not biased in any way because he's not mine).

Remember this face?

I conveniently forgot my camera and thus have to recycle old photos. Alex is pictured here at around 9 months. Be assured, his head is still quite large and not much else has changed.

Anyhow, this little ball of cuteness celebrated 12 months of sleeping, eating, and pooping today. I was a little trepidacious about going to the party, since I knew there would be children in attendance and I'm pretty particular about the children I'm willing to hang out with. Specifically I'm not a big fan of the ones with the soft spot on their heads. Just creeps me out to think I could accidentally slip and poke my thumb into their white matter.

I solved this problem by going straight for the beer. Doesn't really help with my motor skills, but typically after a few the kids learn to keep their distance from me.

Anywho, there were a number of the usuals and some newbs in attendance, and the kids were all acceptable ages (read: tying their own shoes and wiping their own butts). Most of our time was spent eating, as with most family events, and the cake was completely acceptable and totally fattening (thank you Publix). They even got a separate cake for the B-day boy, and apparently its a 'tradition' to publicly ridicule watch the child smash the cake with his hands and smear it all over his face. I was reminded of Anthropology courses where tribal children fulfil rites of passages by killing their first lion and smearing themselves with blood....except this was yellow cake and green butter cream frosting. But the concept's pretty similar.

Alex, being daddy's boy, did not play the part. This kid's showing his OCD very early in life, getting grumpy and cranky when he realized that his hands were dirty. The dog ended up damaging that cake better than the kid. In tribal terms I think that means he won't have lots of girlfriends. At least we know he won't end up like Pigpen.

By far the most impressive part of the party was the Unveiling of The Gifts. First birthdays are the new Sweet Sixteen! This kid raked in toys of all sorts, cute little outfits, even golf clubs (and yes, they were metal and will inevitably break a window). I was especially interested in the toys that involved blinking lights with music and singing and strange voices. I'm pretty sure those are the root of the ADD problem in America.

When I was a kid, we played with legos and paper and wooden popsicle sticks. Stuff that required imagination, creative thinking, and glue. My parents took this theory a step futher and trumped my 5-mile-walk-uphill-in-the-snow story with their 20-mile-walk-through-ice-capped-mountains story by exclaiming they never even had TV growing up.

(How the hell did they keep up with important current events like what's going on with Brit Brit or who got kicked off this week on American Idol?)

I'm thinking about getting our little friend Alex a script for Ritalin on his second birthday. You have to be proactive with these things.

After playing with all of his toys (me) and eating his cake (me and the dog), my little friend Alex was completely tuckered out and made his way to bed. As we left my hands lingered over the Leap Frog caterpillar thing that sounded out letters to enhance reading skills. I liked how it said F-U-C-ooo, that tickles!-K.

(You think I'm joking? Go to Target right now and try it yourself. Seriously. GO.)

(And I soooo want to know what the other parents faces in that aisle look like when you do it.)

(By the way: do not pull the string. No matter how sultry tempting they make it sound by saying "Pull My String", just don't do it. Trust me.)

Altogether a nice afternoon, although by no means did it inspire me to run out and get a kid rightnowthisminute.

But then again, tick tock. Tick Freakin Tock.

How's this for cuteness?

Pop Quiz: Do you take the Super Awesome but Expensive Canal View or the Super Cheap Ass Dump View (and by dump I mean quite literally)?

That is quite literally the longest title I've ever used and it's awesome and I won't change it (mom) no matter how offensive the word Ass may be perceived.

This is The Super Cheap Ass Dump View.

I really wanted to send this pic by itself to FR (who's blog is ironically titled This Place is a Dump!) and say 'I found our new apartment check out the view!' but I'm pretty sure she would have strangled me in my sleep.

And that wouldn't really be a healthy start to our roommate relationship, now would it?

Got back from The GC today. What a difference! I have mixed feelings about this place, to be honest. On one hand, its very much as if I won't be leaving home - the environment reminds me very much of St. Petersburg Beach in Florida but perhaps at three times the cost. However, the development is so high that the island has significantly lost its "Caribbean Island" feel that you get from some other places. We didn't get to explore the tail of the island (basically anything beyond Seven Mile Beach and its immediate neighbors), which may give space for adventurous exploration.

We arrived on Monday afternoon, and set about driving around to get our bearings of the various recommended neighborhoods for living and their respective location with reference to the school. It was a very weird feeling to get back on the left side of the road, more so because this time was behind a right-hand drive car.

These things are so damn cute.



I cannot count how many times I turned on the wipers when trying for the blinkers or put my right hand down by the door to try and shift...

Dinner that night was at the hotel restaurant, which boasted The Best Burgers on Island and they were right. I have been dreaming about that burger ever since. The bill, however, was quite surprising; it will take some time to get used to this exchange rate! My burger was about $8.95 CI (Cayman Island dollars) and that converts to a little over $11 USD!! The local beer Caybrew was $4.60 CI a bottle, about $5.75 USD.

Sticker shock continued to follow us as we investigated apartments (typically around $1800 CI/mth for a 2 bedroom), groceries, and cars. Cars were interesting because they were unusually reasonable (for islands, anyhow). We met a particularly...slick...salesman who has obviously worked with students in the past and has come up with an interesting scheme plan that provides students with guaranteed fixing of any issues while they have the car as well as guaranteed buyback at a previously agreed upon depreciation value. Sounds great on the outset, but when you do the math there are some potential kinks in the concept.

Tuesday we ran all over town meeting with various landlords and Realtors and tenants. We narrowed our list down to 5 options with prices all over the board as well as different pros/cons. Dinner that night involved dad and I listing out all of our considerations in an apartment and rating the five according to a very common insanely OCD system that pretty much only he and I understand.

Insane.

We know our rating system was unbiased since the one we were both in love with did not make the #1 slot. So we scrapped our list for a more favorable solution of posting a vote on my blog majority rules. After dinner activities included late-night email and picture swapping with FR to make sure the majority actually included her (it so did).

Ours is upstairs on the left (the one where it looks like my dad may hit his head on the balcony).

Our backyard.



Le Sigh.

Wednesday we had a tour with the school scheduled for 9am. Dad and I faithfully showed at 8:59am, and after about 20 minutes of waiting around decided to start knocking some heads to find out where our tour guide was hiding. Seems he mixed up the times and thought 10am! We had a little chat with the Student Services guy and then caught up with Matt (our guide) for a late but thorough tour of the school. This included a 20 minute drive out to another part of the island called Lower Valley where the Teaching Facility/Surgery Clinic is located.

The Teaching Facility or Surgical Center or whatev. There isn't a sign yet, so really I guess you can call it whatever your heart desires.

Anat lecture and lab. Mmmm....

Surgery and other fun stuff storage.



Horse and Bull area.

Large animal holders. Shut up, that is so the right term.



That little goat you see was playing chicken with...well....a chicken. And that little building you see in the distance is the GC Department of Agriculture/Dog Pound.



Two horses, two goats. Maybe some future sheep. Two clinic dogs. One bull owned by the GC government who was out to stud at the time of filming.

I have mixed thoughts about the school physically, mainly because I've come from such large schools in the past so it's hard to imagine an entire vet school working out of basically 6 office sized rooms and a house-sized Teaching Facility. However with nine students in my class, I doubt very much that we'll be stumbling over each other.

Whoa. Wait. Hold Up. What was that?

NINE?

(As in after 8 and before 10?)

I wish you all could have seen my jaw drop when the Student Services guy laid that one on us. I'm sure the noise was akin to playing egg toss with boulders.

I don't even know where to go with this. That's less people than were in the Von Trap family.

Oh how I wish these uniforms were red. Damn you Lack-of-Photoshop! Damn you!

To steal borrow from my classmate Paul: I'm leaving the room if people in class start randomly bursting out in song.

Anywho, after the tour we were scheduled to meet with some current first semester students for lunch so I could grill them a la CIA intelligence gathering ask them a few questions. However, the theme of the day seemed to be forgetting pre-arranged plans and in classic Saskia-Completely-Overextending-Herself-Style I not only messed up the time but also the place. Dad and I ended up sitting in a pretty neat restaurant called Eat for about a half hour before I finally ran back up to the room (hotel was right behind restaurant) and saw that the girls were sitting is Yoshi (as sushi joint) two doors down from Eat and had been there for at least an hour. I ran back down to the sushi joint, made my introductions/apologies, and begged the last ten minutes of their break to hang over at Eat so dad could meet them.

Needless to say, not such a great First Impression.

After lunch we made our way over to the licensing office to get my official Cayman driver's license! Course, I explained to dad that it more than likely would be a waste of our time since I had no phone/address/visa yet. I think he really just wanted to experience the joy that is Island Bureaucracy. And boy did they not let him down. After waiting in line for about 45 minutes we were told that I could pay for the license now but that I would need to supply my real address and phone number before they print a card or I'll have to pay an extra $20 CI for a card reprint at a later date. Huh. What do you think the chances will be that I'll have absolutely no trouble getting my card with just a paper receipt of payment? Hahahaha.

Plus side? At least the licenses in GC are actually plastic cards like the states instead of just a piece of paper.

After exhausting ourselves at the licensing office, we hung out in the hotel room making last minute decision changes before finally settling on the Super Awesome but Expensive Canal View apartment. Dad was able to negotiate a bit on the rent (awesome) and FR is unbelievably excited about our new digs. There is still the possibility of selling plasma or harvesting eggs in our future, but with some creative budgeting (read: eat nothing but white rice and peanut butter) hopefully neither of us will feel like the creepy Geico eyeballs are watching us.

Thursday morning we got up early so we could run some things over to the apartment and stop by the electric company to hook up the electricity so it'll all be move in ready in a few weeks! Then off to the airport where I'm happy to announce you can purchase Tortuga Dark Rum (98 proof) for a whopping $9 USD. And it's actually legal to bring into the states. Which we found out from the helpful customs guy is not always the case; seems some rums are illegal to bring into the states! Huh.

Sweet.

Overall a very informative and interesting trip. I'm looking forward to trying this island/school on for size.

And I'm pretty sure dad and I are the Harlem Globetrotters of moving to a foreign country.

We were pretty sweet in our time. Not sure what that other dude's name is, but he sure could balance a ball.

(So ghetto. In so many ways.)

Random other shots that didn't really fit into my Epic Novel but that I'm quite sure you are eager to see:

Awesome map of the island courtesy of...oh what was that car rental place....oh, yeah: Avis.

Areas circled in black show you where the top five apartments were located in reference to the school (circle at top). Official Apartment is the one labeled Snug (as in Snug Harbour, the most awesome place ever).

There's this new office park/condos/craziness that went up a few years ago and is only just now being finished. It's called Cabana Bay, and it was built by the family that owns the Dart Polystyrene company. As in basically every styrofoam or paper cup/plate/to-go container/etc. in the world has their name stamped on it.

As in ohmygodtheyhavetooooomuchmoneygivemesomeplease.

I took this pic of a measly garage because isn't the coolest looking garage you've ever seen?

About damn time people start putting some asthetic thought into even the most dismal parts of construction.

I have no idea what this building is but it just screams Dr. Suess.

Or LSD.

Ditto on the screaming LSD/Suess. But a really neat design for a fountain. Hard to see here, but the water constantly runs down the sides and is reused. And those colorful bits in amidst the stones are gorgeous hand blown glass bowls that dad confirmed are not cemented down.

(Note: FR and I are planning a little scavenger hunt there during the twilight hours to furnish our outrageously expensive digs.)

You know who you are and why I took this.

Random shot down a random street in town.



GC squirrels. These suckers are huge and fast as lightning.
I did not find out that last fact by testing them with a chase. I swear.
Please don't sic PETA on me.

Another random shot on a random corner.

One more random.

Click on the pic to see allllll the people. It was crazy. And that was just one of THREE ships parked out there today.

Quick tutorial on Right-Hand Drive.



Dad and I having our 10:30AM airport beer on our way out.

(I cannot begin to understand why all of my programs rotated this picture normally but when I upload it into Blogger it comes out upside down.)

(I can only infer it is meant to be.)

(Not such a flattering pic anyhow, maybe this way our fat will sort of shift.)

Totally snapped this by luck. Have no idea what orientation of the island it is though.



My new roommate. I hear she comes with a pretty cool human.

(No, neither of them was on this trip. But she's just so damn cute.)

By the way...did anyone happen to notice the distinct lack of any beach pics in this entire entry? Oh, yeah...that's because we didn't go there! Despite it being just a quick cross of the road away. Only one quick look at night in the dark. Boo.

Down here we call it "Neck-car".

Dad and I went to the Honda Grand Prix today. Ordinarily I don't enjoy watching cars drive in circles abnormally fast, but since my dad was saddled with just a girl I figure it's my duty to 'play the son' every once in a while.

Anyhow, it was a gorgeous day for walking amongst the little people and eating corn dogs and drinking beer. I find myself enjoying these types of events for people watching, of which there was plenty. Basically there were a significant number of men vs. women, less teeth than normal, more beer sold than water/lemonade/tea combined, and lots of dip lips.

Actually a pretty good shot, despite our neon yellow ear plugs. I have no excuses for dad's ridiculous shirt.

Or hat.

I took this shot for my FR. We are currently in the market for a yacht. Or more so the accessory Gazillionaire (with an accent preferably) that comes with one.

I'm pretty sure you have to be either anorexic or a prepubescent 9 year-old to fit into these cars. The tires are wider than the seats!

Notice one of the sponsors is the NYSE. It's a wonder why this car was retired and put in the 'take your picture with the car but be careful not to actually touch it' area. They actually had a little old man there wiping up prints after catching people breaking the rules.

He was probably a stock broker in his former life.

The next couple of weeks are going to be filled with visits to fabulous places like The GC and NY which will hopefully give me better fodder for this blog than, oh, say....Car Races?

Let's all cross our fingers.

Muppets on Crack

Last night I was lying in bed, running through my list of things to do today:

Damn I have to go see Hugh The Torturer tomorrow at noon he’s going to ask me why it’s been two weeks since I last saw him and what have I been doing and what fruit have I been eating bananas I haven’t been really motivated to hit the gym but went today because I really wanted a piece of dad’s birthday cake even though it ended up not bring worth the trouble it was sort of dry and the icing just wasn’t up to Publix par not nearly as yummy as the white sugary icing with the fudge cap if it had been that icing I would have eaten cake until I tossed my cookies haha The Bloggess wrote something about tossing cookies and the Cookie Monster oh god remember the Muppets on Crack posters? Those were funny.

Now you have an idea of why it’s hard for me to get to sleep sometimes.

The really bad part was, I was lying there thinking I need to find a copy of the Muppets on Crack for Jenny because she would soooo enjoy that but I was too lazy to lean over and write it down to remember in the morning.

So instead I just lay there chanting to myself: “Muppets on crack. Muppets on crack. Muppets on crack…” It was kind of a creepy marriage between counting sheep and putting a rubber band around my wrist. Except now I have PETA screaming at me for neutering sheep with rubber bands after shooting them up with crack and I can’t remember my point.

Anyhow, here's where I found the Muppets on Crack story. It's pretty hysterical completely uncalled for.

Argh. Erg.

That's supposed to be some sort of pirate grunt of frustration.

It was brought to my attention by The [Lovely] Bloggess that my 'leave comments' capabilities were incapacitated and I got all verklempt basically because she is awesome, and probably would have left some amazingly laugh-so-hard-you-pee-your-pants funny comment. But nope, Blogger required some major HTML coding to get my comments back in order (I'm still not really sure they are exactly) and the moment has passed. Who knows if she'll even come back to visit?

I mean, she is very busy writing a book and being a Super Mom/Wife and sorting out pills.

So do me a favor, whichever one of you invisible people get this first please send me a test comment. It doesn't even have to be witty or long, just write 'test' and send. I have to know.

(funny part is, I could probably just comment to myself....but that sort of feels like voting for myself which I can't even do in my own poll despite the fact that it would probably boost my confidence level another 5%.)

Hurry! I wouldn't want to miss out on another opportunity for drunken commenting.

This just in...

HAPPY BIRTHDAY DADDY!


I hope you get everything you want. Including a computer. Let's make up our minds already, why don't we?

(and by "we", I mean you.)

Damn Yankees.

My aunt and uncle joined us at the last Yankees spring training game of the season today. We had fantastic seats, about 10 rows from the field:

At one point a ball landed about 2 rows directly in front of us. My sad little family all just cringed and cowered and covered our heads as best we could. Funny part was, the ball hit the ground and bounced straight up to land just behind us. Some guy caught it, and was ridiculously violent in his efforts. It's a spring training game dude. Seriously.

It was only about 83 degrees out today, but you would think we were sitting in the center of the Saudi desert by the amount of sweat draining out of my body. At one point I had to hitch my skirt up completely to avoid the inevitable swamp-ass. Which I sort of got anyhow, but despite my uncontrollable need to photo document my entire life for you all I did not take a picture of my backside post-game. That would be uncouth.

Haha, this picture has two fairly inappropriate arrows drawn on it. Click the pic to see the text a little better.

Derek Jeter was at the game, in all his....glory? I'm not really a big fan, basically because I've met the man in person a number of times and he wasn't really the Super Awesome guy people claim. Even my BFF Jen who was basically going to marry him wasn't too keen after she met him. I think she may have even broken his heart. True story.

Here's another reason for me to wonder at this guy's mental state:

Click on the pic to see a not-at-all-life-size version of the picture.

That, my dear friends, is his THIRTY THOUSAND SQUARE FOOT house being built on Davis Island (a semi-uppity man-made island in South Tampa that will likely slide into the ocean once the Big One hits). I can't even describe to you how incredibly insane the entire concept of this house is - NUTS. He paid something like 7 million dollars for the land alone, almost 2 million just to the designers, and who the hell knows how much to get it built/furnish it/etc. The place has like 9 million bedrooms and bathrooms, TWO three car garages, and a gigantic front courtyard that will no doubt be a place for his groupies to get arrested when trespassing entourage to park.

I mean, this guy could probably house the entire population of St. Kitts comfortably.

To give you some reference as to how completely out of place this house is, check out his neighbor across the street:

Their house only took one camera shot to document. His took three. From a distance.

Now I realize that someone should probably give this guy a psychiatric evaluation medal of honor for putting so much money into the economy during times like these, but who does this? Not necessarily overall, but who does this here? I mean, Tampa's pretty cool, but c'mon!!

Oh! And remember how mom exchanges wine for liquor over lent?

Scene: Mom returns to table with mysterious brownish liquid in a glass. We both look at her incredulously, since this looks suspiciously like a glass of whiskey wine on the rocks.

Dad: Ellen!

Mom: [taking in our looks of disbelief] No, no. That's just vermouth.

Dad: Ellen, that's basically wine.

Mom: Yeah, I know. I'm maybe sort of cheating a little.

Me: [cringing, looking around for the lightning strikes.] Nice one, mom.

This family is nuts.

PS - Thanks to my seven friends and/or random drunken strangers for voting about my new site. Well, thanks to the five of you who Love It. Everyone else can just go piss off re-vote.