Sunday, February 24, 2013

Paging Dr. Seaton

Do you think it's possible to self-diagnosis a brain tumor?
Cus I'm doing it.  

 Before you run away and read an actual blog, let me explain.
You see, I'm not exactly what one would consider "a risk taker"
I pay my phone bill a month in advance, two if possible.
When planning out my week I try to add in "fun time" during my day and it usually consists of catching up on the latest episode of Parks and Recreation. 
Where else am I gonna learn the latest phrases in feminine solidarity?
So when a friend of mine asked if I wanted to go to India with her I politely laughed, mentally added it to my bucket list and continued drinking my lukewarm peppermint tea with extra honey.

But this India idea was like a virus that infected my brain. And it quickly started eating away at my sanity. So I called my friend and she got me the deets on this whole India idea.

Turns out, its a lot harder to go to India than you would imagine. 
Sure there are little details like getting the time off of work, or figuring out a way to afford it, but mainly its the whole travel visa business.

It's more like:
1. Sell us your soul
2. Sign away 15% of any future income you will make
3. and swear on your great grandfather's grave you have as much beef with Pakistan as we do
Then maybe, just maybe we will give you a travel visa.

It took several hours and even more attempts to finish the visa application and send it off along with a pint of my blood.

For some reason they were very interested in my father.
What does he do for a living? 
Where was he born?
Where is he now?
Is he now or has he ever been in prison?
Is he a shady character?
Do you have Daddy issues?
The list went on. and on and on.
They didn't care so much about my mom. (sorry ma)

Lastly they were pretty explicit about their disdain for Pakistan. 
Example questions went a little something like this:
Who do you like better: Freddy Krueger or Pakistan?
 (hint: pick Fred)
In high school were you ever involved in a mock U.N. where you represented Pakistan?
(If so, just stop filling this out because you will never get a travel visa)
If we tried to play six degrees between you and Pakistan, what would we find?
If we tried to play six degrees between your father and Pakistan, what would we find?
Let's just say it was intense. I'm rather drained from the whole experience.

All this work and I'm still not even sure I'll get to go to India! That is where this post finally comes full circle and I conclude with the theory that I must have a brain tumor or something equally horrible for me to go through all these hoops just for a chance to go to India.

I'll let you know how this ends up I promise. 
Over and out.

Monday, February 18, 2013

Tredmill Tales

Dear Readers,

Never being one to make a promise and not keep it, I wanted to present to you the tales of my gym excursions over the past few weeks. You see, just before the new year, one of my brilliantly witty and lovely roommates convinced me to sign up for a gym membership. With the allure of coming in contact with humans other than children 3 years young on a regular basis, I gleefully agreed.

So far, it has been pretty great. Its actually become the highlight of my day to go running and not feel threatened by the crazy neighbors like when I tried to run outside a while back. But, all this sweat and craziness hasn't come without a price. About once a week I walk out of the gym vowing to never return because of some rather unfortunate incident. What could possibly be that embarrassing you ask? How about:

1.Walking into the men's locker room. TWICE.

2. Trying to have a semi-serious conversation under the stairs only to be interrupted and questioned because I looked like, and I quote, "a suspicious character."
Nothing to see here people, just the typical conversation about the importance of the Yellow Fever vaccine for an upcoming trip (more details to come)

 3. After ingesting an insane amount of caffeine before getting my calorie burn on, I went to use the restroom and fell off the toilet. I'll say it again. I fell off the toilet. I even have the text messages to prove it.
Unfortunately for me and the others in the locker room, it wasn't just a little guesstimate gone wrong where I slipped a little and recovered gracefully. I happened to choose the handicap stall and so I believe I gave the impression that I actually was handicapped, had fallen and couldn't get up! I'm not quite sure why I am sticking with the caffeine theory, but I can't very well say it was solely my fault. I do have some pride.

You'll be happy to know that despite it all I have stuck with it. In fact, I've been doing so well, I've semi-spontaneously decided to run a damn half marathon in a couple weeks! (No really its called That Dam Run).  I'll be sure to write out the gritty deets when it's over don't you fret. 

That's all folks! Stayed tuned because next time I'm gonna tell you everything I've learned about travel visas and why you should never try to screw with the Indian Government.

Wednesday, February 6, 2013

Nanny Diaries

Thanks to the multiple requests demands from the paternal parental:
Although why he wouldn't want to see her face on a daily basis is beyond me
 I have been inspired to once again rise to the occasion of updating you lucky readers on the ins and outs of my extremely exciting, wonderful, awesome life.

Today's particular subject? 
The Nanny Diaries.
Are you ready for this? I hope so.
 I recently quit one of my nanny jobs, (mostly for my own sanity*) and my other nanny family jumped on the opportunity train and asked me to pick up a few extra shifts. I agreed to put on my Mary Poppins top hat and we all lived happily ever after with my big fat overtime paychecks and spoonfuls of sugar. 

Ha. Yeah right, if that was the case this blog post would be non-existent and I would still be dogging texts from the father figure in my life.

So without further ado, let me update you on how this little adventure is going. 
Today on our way home from the park I made to rookie mistake of taking the long way home (because the kids needed fresh air and NOT because I was killing time before the dreaded lunch hour) and we happened upon a dead bird. Actually it was more of a few feathers and a bone or two near the rain gutter, but I digress. Besides the eight feathers and maaaaybe three drops of blood, there were also about 12,000 tears. Sasha was inconsolable, even through the dreaded lunch hour. So what's the best nanny in the world to do? Hold an impromptu "roadkill funeral" of course. It was short, but tasteful (Obvi). It included a sidewalk chalk mural, and Mariah Carey's smash hit All I want for Christmas is You (details about that obsession in another to post to be sure). Sasha finally calmed down enough to eat her remaining chicken nuggets and I will never, ever walk down the Jasmine Tr. Cul-de-sac again. Mark my words.

That's all for now. I'll write again when I decide to pay the fee, but not actually use the gym membership I gifted myself with in January.

Stay tuned for news of traveling abroad, my lack of social skills in a bar (among other social settings), and that one time I got lost in the gym...really, really, lost.

*but really for the safety of the child who was so incredibly ill mannered and misbehaved I likened him to the offspring of he-who-must-not-be-named in my head.