Bananas.

Day ten of my freedom and now concluding my first full day in San Joquin de Flores. Still adapting to the spanish keyboard, so please excuse any random characters that pop-up. Per the usual, I am amazed at how much the world has to show me. In that spirit, here`s a short list of lessonsl learned in the past 36 hours:

• Do not forget about the uneaten banana in your bag. Costa Rican immigration will confiscate it and will publicly scold you something fierce. Rogue fruit is not a joking matter. Also, authorities do not appreciate you laughing while being frisked. I mean really, it was an innocent piece of fruit...you´d think I was trying to smuggle in a Colt .45. Sheesh.
• On that note: packing fruit = security breach. However, carrying on a razor, tweezers, nail clippers, liquids not sealed in individual baggies and just about everything else on the forbidden items list?? A-OK!
• Always pack lightly: this makes you seem like a very cool, very adept exotic traveler. My classmates were positively astonished to learn I had only packed one small(ish) carry-on bag for my two week stay. Little do they know I will resemble Encino Man by the end of this week.
• Airlines have managed to do the impossible: make flying more expensive, yet less enjoyable! Por ejemplo: my ticket cost a mere $300...but with a cool $400 in fees/taxes tacked on. Also, no more television/movies (bring books) but good news: you can now pay $6 to watch DirecTV! Fortunately, airline food is still reliably heinous (hey, I take comfort in the familiar). Although my airline no longer offers a vegetarian option. So. There´s that.
• On your first night of a homestay, it´s good to tell your host family one clean, and one dirty joke. My captive audience of three actually laughed...probably at my poor spanish, but still.
• The name ¨Phyllis`` is nearly impossible for anyone, in an country, to properly pronounce or spell. You can now call me `Philips`` because that´s what I´ll be for the next 13 days.
• Similarly, it is also universally entertaining that I am one-half of a Philip - Phyllis couple. This never gets old to anyone.
• The coffee here will make you a believer. Or at the very least, a cranky addict. Seriously though, it´s like drinking straight from the chalice of Heaven. Costa Rican coffee is truly the stuff religions are built on.
• Always, always save your blog draft. Otherwise, you will lose the entire damn thing and be forced to start over after you unsucesfully try to insert a picture of a stupid freakin´banana.

Party time.

Day 5 of my freedom and what's my day look like? It's not yet 2:00 on Friday afternoon and I've successfully occupied every inch of freezer space with Jell-o shots. At some point --as I combined $9 tequila with HEB brand raspberry gelatin dessert-- I thought to myself, "Self, just what the hell has your life come to?"

I had this same thought earlier at the grocery store, when they didn't carry the proper little plastic ramekins for my shots. So what's a girl to do? Yup, I bought 150 plastic 'bathroom cups.' Like the ones at the dentist, when you have to swish and then spit into that stupid little shallow bowl without dribbling all over yourself, which always happens. Always.

Oh yeah, and then I get my Velveeta, Lone Star, mini-corn dogs, 'bathroom cups' and HEB brand gelatin dessert all checked out before I realize I left my wallet in my other purse. So what's a girl to do? Yup, I wrote a check for my groceries.

My party theme for tonight is white trash, but I'm beginning to fear I won't have to try as hard as I thought....

Blocked.

Day 3 of my new freedom and I'm suffering from writer's block in the worst kind of way. Let it be said that I've been exceptionally productive this week, as I have mountains to accomplish before I leave for Costa Rica on Sunday. Because seriously, how much will I really want to write about the Miss America protest of 1968 and its influence on female body image in second-wave feminism of the 1970s, when zip lining and waterfall repelling call my name?

Although I am going to Costa Rica for a grad school course, I don't really want to have to work that hard. Since I'll be missing two weeks of my Austin courses, I have a research paper draft to finish. Now. Just for fun, here's a list of everything I've done today besides write a single word relating to the Miss America protest of 1968 and its influence on female body image in second-wave feminism of the 1970s:

• took my dog for a brief stroll around 50th street and its environs
• went to the library and left with an armload of books (progress, however small)
• met up with J. at Bouldin Creek for coffee and hummus (100% unproductive)
• drove around trying to find parking for Briscoe Center of American History (at least I'm trying)
• wrote submissions for Eating Everywhere and Spectrum Culture (why can't academic writing be so easy?)
• took notes on armload of books (getting warmer)
• stared at blank computer screen for 89 minutes
• had leisurely cup of tea, while cursing blank computer screen (again, 100% unproductive)

So. That's that. Beyond frustrated. At this very moment, I pray that some lightning bolt of genius will strike.

Here's hoping.

Farewell.

Friday, July 2nd. You're finally here! That's right: it's officially my last day in corporate America. We can also call this day any of the following:

• The day which will turn into a night where I drink so much I get sick a little bit, maybe in public



• The day that kills my 5:00 am alarm clock setting



• The day that officially marks my regression back into student life. Ramen Noodles, here I come! <-----ugh. it hurt just to write that



• On that note, this might also be the day that becomes nights where I turn tricks on 14th and Chicon for a Sam's Club gift card and a double Whopper with cheese. <---ugh. let's hope it doesn't get that bad
  

Anyhoosen, in honor of my last day, thought I'd share with you all a few little gems of wisdom I've gathered during my time here. Specifically, my boss likes to say wildly inappropriate/oddly profound things, which we lovingly call "Neil-isms" and are worth putting in writing:

1. "All gay cops have mustaches. But not all cops with mustaches are gay. Seriously. Think about it."

2. "I'm a whore for a chicken nugget."

3. "Oh, that guy? He's the flunky for that beefy girl, right?"

4. A genuine exchange that happened once:

N: "Goddamn, I can't stand that chick. Every time I see her, I just wanna donkey punch her."

Me: "Sir, you can't say donkey punch. Really. It's just completely inappropriate."

N: "What?? The hell I can!"

5. "They're those kinds of people. You know, the ones that like to put queso on eveeerrrrrrything. Everything. Ya know, the fat ones?"

6. "Look. Rich guys can get beautiful women all the time. But every once in a while, it's fun to bang a trashy girl. It's like this: you might eat filet mignon every day, but sometimes, you just really want a hot dog."

7. "OK. How can I strategically fold this receipt to conceal the 11 vodkas I put on the card, before I turn it into accounting?"

8. "What the hell's a FUPA? It sounds gross."

9. "Fuck. Fuuuuuck. Goddamnit. FUCK!"

10. "We really need to stop saying fuck so much around here."

11. "Don't worry, Phyl. You'll be calling me up soon enough. Crying. Begging for your job back. Have you seen the employment reports for people with Master's degrees? Yeah. Go ahead and put me on speed dial."

Welp, about to take a big ol' step into the unknown...funny thing, I kind of like not knowing.

It's been real. It's been fun. It hasn't been real fun!

Dear John.

To my dearest Dell desktop-

I hate you. You stink. Tomorrow is my last day at the office and I'm sure you are happy to see me go. Sure, sure...you'll have some other poor girl under your spell soon enough. Chained to you everyday. Victim to your constant demands of "This network is no longer connected. Click here to troubleshoot" and "Your new password does not meet the criteria of: containing at least 6 characters. Must contain at least 3 alpha characters. Must contain at least 2 numeric characters. Must contain 1 cup sugar. Cannot have been used in the last 12 months. Cannot contain person name or network name. Must be written in blood."

I only hope you'll be gentle. Accomodating.

I'm not really sure where we went wrong, you and I. Is it because I [not-so-secretly] love Apple products? Did you find out about the sweet little MacBook I go home to every night? It was nothing personal, I swear! Mac is just so much younger, faster, sleeker. You understand, right?

Things started out so well. You automatically opened Outlook every morning without me asking and sometimes, you even let me go an entire day without having to Ctrl+Alt+Delete Internet Explorer to within an inch of its life. You even put the toilet seat down.

I understand sometimes the mouse didn't always work properly. I know, I know...it's never happened before but I never told anyone; I mean, it happens to everyone. But then you started to make the keyboard malfunction. Usually in conjuction with the mouse. That was a little much. I know you absolutely reveled in making me crawl under my dank little cave of a desk, to reconnect all your useless chords. But I always came back. Bastard.

I tried to make things work. Really. But when you contracted that virus, I'd had enough. Honestly, where had you been?! Were you trying to make a fool of me? Covering my desktop screen in dozens of pop-up adds for "Hot Sexy School Girls Now!" and "Masturbation Station!" You disgust me.

So. I'm done. It's not you, it's me....ok, actually, it is you. You're the one with the issues. But let's face it: I'm going to Costa Rica next week and I don't want to think about you anymore.

I hope you'll be happy and find someone that appreciates you.

Big kiss,

P.

Scalding.

Here's the weird thing: I'm one of those people that likes my hot food items to be really hot. Like, really, really hot. I am also a painfully slow eater/drinker (with the exception of pizza and vodka/beer/wine/did I mention vodka?) so I can literally re-heat the same cup of coffee a dozen times, just to keep it at optimal hotness.

No doubt this has something to do with the fact that I often tend toward excessiveness in my life. I'm the "whole nine yards" kinda gal...get your minds out of the gutter!...Like that time when I was in the first grade and learned how to make little people of egg shells and construction paper (thanks Hilights magazine!)...most kids would have made a happy family of say, four. Mommy, Daddy, baby boy egg, baby girl egg. Nay! Not me! I wasn't satisfied until I created an entire village of egg people characters, successfuly wasting a carton of 18 eggs. My mother was not amused.

Anyway. This morning I steamed some vanilla soy milk, threw in a bag of Bombay Chai tea, and finished it off with honey to make basically the greatest beverage ever. Unfortunately, I steamed the milk something outrageous...after minutes of staring at the cup just sitting on my desk, I couldn't take it anymore. The billowy clouds of heat puffing up weren't enough to deter me. Of course, I had a brief moment where I considered the consequence of sipping too soon and saw in my mind's eye my facial expression as I burned every taste bud off my tongue. For some reason, this didn't stop me....

Yes, it was scalding.

No, I will not be tasting anything for the next three days.

...worth it!

Uphill battle.

On Saturday, I worked on my yard for the first time. Ever. Yes, I closed on my house March 1st and have been inhabiting said house for about 90 days...we've had quite a bit of rain, so you can guess that things are, well, growing.


A truly unfortunate fact about my darling house is that the landscaping is heinous in every way. Truly, an offense to the eyes. I mean, it is absolutely the most random configuration of hideous plant-y things I've ever seen. Naturally, a fact that is magnified by my neighbor's pristine, flawlessly manicured lawn with newly up-lit trees. Bastards.


Allow me to set the scene: imagine a cute little house sitting atop a steeply sloping lawn. Now, imagine that lawn covered in the following: some cactus, a rosemary bush, two rose bushes (placed nowhere near each other), a couple crepe myrtles (sure why not?), some yuccas, a very tall branchless tree, some other unknown bushes. Oh, and don't forget the cutesy rusted wagon wheel, hanging from a dead tree stump. Because that gem'll save the yard! Idiots.


Anyway, here's what I've learned about yard work:

• It's crap. Don't do it ever. Honestly, I now envy those people who just loooooooove to work in their yards on the weekend. With their perfectly calloused hands and awesome wide-brimmed hats. You wanna know what I positively loooooove about working in my yard? Paying someone else to do it so I can lay by the pool and have a drink.
• Apparently, you're supposed to regularly keep up with yard work so that it's not such a beat down. I didn't get the memo....lesson learned.
• There will come a moment -somewhere into hour two- in which you realize you've created a bigger, uglier mess than which you started. It's like that moment when you decide to completely re-organize your closet, only to find yourself sitting in a pile of Jordache acid wash jeans and novelty socks, overwhelmed to the point of nervous breakdown.
• Speaking of which, I chopped all this shit without having any plan for cleanup...again, lesson learned.
• Ok, ok. Truth be told, there is something fantastically cathartic about taking a 14" pair of steel sheers and hacking away.

All in all, I accomplished a bit of good. But only a bit. There is definitely some sort of killer weed destroying everything in it's path; no lie: it started growing up my front windows. Quite literally overtaking the house...and I tell you, this thing has roots. The more I pulled, the more came up...it had literally grafted itself onto just about everything, in an effort to choke out all traces of life. In a flash of dread, I realized the whole thing felt very Hitchcock. Very, very Hitchcock.


Things are "cleaned up" now, although I use the term loosely. Frankly, the bushes (shrubberies? what's the diff?) are reminiscent of this haircut I got in the 8th grade...I wanted something very cool, very short, very Claire Danes (at the moment). I ended up with a sort of mutated mushroom look. I learned later that my hairstylist was fired for being a meth addicted speed freak, with a real penchant for inhaling mountains of coke.


Go figure.

Cheese?

If you know me, you know I love cheese. Plain and simple. I almost congratulated myself this morning for having gone four days without cheese, until I realized I made baked feta for dinner last night. Meh.

So this being Texas, what more popular cheese dish than queso? On Friday, had some gal pals (yes, I channeled my mother just then) over for dinner at the house. With our sweet potato enchiladas and guacamole, we just had to have queso. Which means Velveeta entered my house. Shameful, I know...but it melts so well!

Here's the scary thing: ever try to find Velveeta in your neighborhood grocery store? Yeah, good luck with that. I spent no less than 18 minutes prowling the aisles in search of that yellow box. Because really, where do you look for the stuff? It's not really cheese, so it's not in the dairy aisle. Canned vegetables? Pasta? Condiments? Just what the hell IS it?

Think about it: anything that says "Pastuerized Cheese Food Product" on the box is not your friend. You should never EVER have to specify on the label that a product is indeed food.

Finally, in total exasperation I found an employee and inquired about my precious Velveeta. Apparently, it's housed on an end cap. All by itself. At the end of the toy aisle. Yes: TOY AISLE.

Yup. Behold a "food product" so unclassifiable, so inexplicable it stands alone, save the Limited Edition Malibu Barbie.

Bon appetit!

Fact.

Oh yes, it's that time again! First, shout out to my mom for expelling me from her uterus this day 25 years ago...you're the best.

So, as I begin a new year, a little update on my list of lessons learned:

13) This one is an addition from mom, after the 2008 list: Children grow up, enjoy them when they are young. Enjoy them when they are grown as they will become truly amazing adults. Each comes with special blessings and joys.

14) Not my original thought, but a friend shared this with me and it stuck:

One evening an old Cherokee told his grandson about a battle that goes on inside people. He said, "My son, the battle is between two "wolves" inside us all. One is Evil. It is anger, envy, jealousy, sorrow, regret, greed, arrogance, self-pity, guilt, resentment, inferiority, lies, false pride, superiority, and ego. The other is Good. It is joy, peace, love, hope, serenity, humility, kindness, benevolence, empathy, generosity, truth, compassion and faith." The grandson thought about it for a minute and then asked his grandfather: "Which wolf wins?" The old Cherokee simply replied, "The one you feed."

15) There is no such thing as too much fresh cilantro. Ever.

16) Mai pen rai. <--- Google it. Live it.

17) Let's just all go ahead and agree that Ke$ha must be stopped.

18) Surrender to the waves <---Think about it.

19) All-you-can-eat buffets should have a Pepto Bismol dispenser on the soda fountain. Because let's be real: they might as well rename them All-you-can-shit-your-pants-at-3-in-the-morning buffets.

20) Austinites will never manage to drive in adverse weather conditions. The sight of rain is literally so shocking, it stops us in our tracks...which is usually southbound I-35 or northbound MoPac.

21) Confession: sometimes at work, I type extra fast and loudly so that it appears I'm working harder than I actually am. In fact, I'm probably just furiously updating my Facebook status.

until next time....

Recap.

Yes, I've slacked off for the past week. Frankly, life has just been too much fun for blogging. Kidding! Nothing is better than this sweet, sweet piece of cyberspace right here. Anyway, here's the weekend highlights:

• Went to The Highball with my [visiting for one-night-only] brother and friends. Had a great time...pros: excellent cocktails and food, cons: too many hipsters and apparently I suck at bowling.
• Saturday farmer's market made for a lovely brunch spread. I made: mini zucchini-leek frittatas, rosemary new potatoes, Fredericksburg peaches with [made from scratch] whipped cream, and sliced up some early girl tomatoes. P.S. Kocurek Family Charcuterie makes outtathisworld Czech style bacon.
• The game Twister is much smaller than I recall...seriously, don't you remember struggling to reach right hand red? Turns out, the damn thing isn't much bigger than a postage stamp.
• Best weekend discovery? Pudding shots. Yes, you read that correctly.
• South Congress Cafe has the best bloody mary in town. Hands down.
• 80s dance parties never get old. NEVER.

Sadly, I'm now grounded until Friday...all this playing meant absolutely zero studying got finished. Which leaves me shackled to 250 painful pages of reading about Czech politics circa 1968, before class...tomorrow.