August 07, 2008
The Big F
I got wind of an amazing website a while ago, and I am only just starting to appreciate its significance in my life. Given the daily pressures of completing my neverending dissertation, and finding gainful employment, I sometimes get a little frustrated, but I try to keep it all in perspective and see the bigger picture. This is where failblog comes in. I find comfort and solace in knowing that there are many failures out there... and that I am not one of them. Today's fail is a gem:
July 22, 2008
Call for marriage proposals
I had the good fortune of meeting a wonderful man in Cairo. His name is Diallo and he is looking for a beautiful wife.
Diallo is, in short, an incredible human being.
If you are an Indian woman, this is a plus. Diallo is down with the brown. He also enjoys open minded women (he will not date a hijabi) and likes to have intelligent conversations (you must be highly educated). He also dances better than Patrick Swayze in Dirty Dancing and despite being a teetotaler partied harder than any of my friends in Cairo. It is my pleasure to present to you: Diallo Abdoulaye of Niamey, Niger. If I could, I would marry him, but alas, I'm already married. Please contact me if you wish to forward any marriage proposals to this eligible bachelor. For your viewing pleasure, he is the charming gentleman on the right with a dazzling smile.
Diallo is, in short, an incredible human being.
If you are an Indian woman, this is a plus. Diallo is down with the brown. He also enjoys open minded women (he will not date a hijabi) and likes to have intelligent conversations (you must be highly educated). He also dances better than Patrick Swayze in Dirty Dancing and despite being a teetotaler partied harder than any of my friends in Cairo. It is my pleasure to present to you: Diallo Abdoulaye of Niamey, Niger. If I could, I would marry him, but alas, I'm already married. Please contact me if you wish to forward any marriage proposals to this eligible bachelor. For your viewing pleasure, he is the charming gentleman on the right with a dazzling smile.
July 01, 2008
Jeg elsker Norge!
So, I just returned from a trip to Norway, and I have 3 things to say.
1) Norway is very, very, very expensive
2) Norway is like a large village
3) Norwegians love to party
My favorite word learned during this trip was "harry" - pronounced hurr-eh - which basically denotes tastelessness, tackiness, corniness, or a combination of all three. For example:
Lillestrom is the most harry town in Norway.
Nips (bric-a-brac/tiny statues/replicas) are harry.
The 80's are SO harry.
Norwegians also consider American christmas decorations to be the most harry thing in the world, although it is interesting to note that Norway is the most similar country to America in Europe.
There wasn't much to see in Oslo... I think I briefly passed by the King's residence, which looked like ex-WesPres Dougie B's house, with a few extra guards. The social security system is great, but taxes are a whopping 14% in stores - the government also levies extra taxes on sugar, alcohol, and tobacco - and income tax hovers around 40-50%!!! Around 20% of the population indulges in snus (snooss), small packets of tobacco that you stick under your upper lip. I was visiting a friend, who took me to all the right places, and I had an amazing time. Everyone I met was really hospitable and friendly (and in Norwegian style, very, very direct) and we managed to have some of them buy us (the very expensive) drinks when we went out. I especially enjoyed the super-fresh air, the abundance of natural life at the beach (having not been destroyed by pollution) and probably the most delicious potato I've ever eaten in my life. I also had an extremely bizarre encounter in my life at a pub in Tonsberg, the oldest city in Norway. A couple of guys bought us drinks, and after a round of introductions one of them plonked down next to me (wearing a yankees jacket, actually) and proudly announced: "my friends and I, we carry napalm." At first I thought he was just kidding, so I ignored him, but about 20 minutes later he was like.... "I got napalm... you know napalm?" YES I know napalm!!! Then he goes - "I wanna be a suicide bomber. Are you a suicide bomber?" Of course by now I'm super uncomfortable so I excuse myself and go to the bathroom, where I relayed the bizarreness to my friend, who laughed, and explained that this was normal. Normal how?? Well, apparently in the wake of the furor caused by the Danish cartoons - which the Norwegian papers also printed but basically got away with - jokes about bombing became commonplace and nothing to raise one's eyebrow at (could Norwegian humor be worse than British humor?!) "That's his way of flirting with you!" my friend said. I personally thought it had racist undertones, but she assured me that this was not so. Aside from this weirdness, I noticed that alot of people have some strange things going on with their bodies in Norway. Check this. My friend has two toenails on her little toe, her sister was born with a hole in the middle of her body (this is hard to explain so I'll just skip it), her friend has an extra kidney.... and here's the kicker. We were sitting around a table playing Kings, an American drinking game which I proudly introduced and which they loved, and one of the girls was like... "wanna see a party trick?" and opened her mouth only to reveal TWO UVULAS! NO WAY!!!!!!
On the whole I quite enjoyed my first foray into Scandinavia, and I definitely learned a lot (fun fact: there is surveillance in public bathrooms in Oslo, and if there is no surveillance there are blue lights installed so that junkies cannot find their veins.)
I'm now back for the glorious British summer. We managed to make it to Wimbledon last week and watch Bartoli and Ancic, and I'm hoping to go to the races soon, but not before I'm back in Berlin and Poland and eating oscipek, the best cheese in the world.
1) Norway is very, very, very expensive
2) Norway is like a large village
3) Norwegians love to party
My favorite word learned during this trip was "harry" - pronounced hurr-eh - which basically denotes tastelessness, tackiness, corniness, or a combination of all three. For example:
Lillestrom is the most harry town in Norway.
Nips (bric-a-brac/tiny statues/replicas) are harry.
The 80's are SO harry.
Norwegians also consider American christmas decorations to be the most harry thing in the world, although it is interesting to note that Norway is the most similar country to America in Europe.
There wasn't much to see in Oslo... I think I briefly passed by the King's residence, which looked like ex-WesPres Dougie B's house, with a few extra guards. The social security system is great, but taxes are a whopping 14% in stores - the government also levies extra taxes on sugar, alcohol, and tobacco - and income tax hovers around 40-50%!!! Around 20% of the population indulges in snus (snooss), small packets of tobacco that you stick under your upper lip. I was visiting a friend, who took me to all the right places, and I had an amazing time. Everyone I met was really hospitable and friendly (and in Norwegian style, very, very direct) and we managed to have some of them buy us (the very expensive) drinks when we went out. I especially enjoyed the super-fresh air, the abundance of natural life at the beach (having not been destroyed by pollution) and probably the most delicious potato I've ever eaten in my life. I also had an extremely bizarre encounter in my life at a pub in Tonsberg, the oldest city in Norway. A couple of guys bought us drinks, and after a round of introductions one of them plonked down next to me (wearing a yankees jacket, actually) and proudly announced: "my friends and I, we carry napalm." At first I thought he was just kidding, so I ignored him, but about 20 minutes later he was like.... "I got napalm... you know napalm?" YES I know napalm!!! Then he goes - "I wanna be a suicide bomber. Are you a suicide bomber?" Of course by now I'm super uncomfortable so I excuse myself and go to the bathroom, where I relayed the bizarreness to my friend, who laughed, and explained that this was normal. Normal how?? Well, apparently in the wake of the furor caused by the Danish cartoons - which the Norwegian papers also printed but basically got away with - jokes about bombing became commonplace and nothing to raise one's eyebrow at (could Norwegian humor be worse than British humor?!) "That's his way of flirting with you!" my friend said. I personally thought it had racist undertones, but she assured me that this was not so. Aside from this weirdness, I noticed that alot of people have some strange things going on with their bodies in Norway. Check this. My friend has two toenails on her little toe, her sister was born with a hole in the middle of her body (this is hard to explain so I'll just skip it), her friend has an extra kidney.... and here's the kicker. We were sitting around a table playing Kings, an American drinking game which I proudly introduced and which they loved, and one of the girls was like... "wanna see a party trick?" and opened her mouth only to reveal TWO UVULAS! NO WAY!!!!!!
On the whole I quite enjoyed my first foray into Scandinavia, and I definitely learned a lot (fun fact: there is surveillance in public bathrooms in Oslo, and if there is no surveillance there are blue lights installed so that junkies cannot find their veins.)
I'm now back for the glorious British summer. We managed to make it to Wimbledon last week and watch Bartoli and Ancic, and I'm hoping to go to the races soon, but not before I'm back in Berlin and Poland and eating oscipek, the best cheese in the world.
June 13, 2008
Bits and bobs and shit
British folk have a tendency to overuse the words "bit" and "pop." It's probably the single most irritating feature of British english, and pretty much the bane of my existence. An old coworker of mine would talk like this all the time, much to my annoyance. For example...
"Oh we've got tons of little bits and pieces! Just have a look at all these bits and bobs over here!"
"I'll just have that bit over there, yeah that tiny bit, just pop it on the side."
"Sweets, would you just pop this bit in that drawer for me?"
"Just pop in whenever you like and we can pop out for a coffee or something!"
I hadn't thought of this for a while, until yesterday, when I received an email from a party promoter. I have reproduced the first part of it here for your enjoyment:
haha.
"Oh we've got tons of little bits and pieces! Just have a look at all these bits and bobs over here!"
"I'll just have that bit over there, yeah that tiny bit, just pop it on the side."
"Sweets, would you just pop this bit in that drawer for me?"
"Just pop in whenever you like and we can pop out for a coffee or something!"
I hadn't thought of this for a while, until yesterday, when I received an email from a party promoter. I have reproduced the first part of it here for your enjoyment:
Hi,
I hope you are well and enjoying the wonderful sunshine we’re having.
I just wanted to pop you over a quick personal e-mail to let you know about the forthcoming events for xxxx, in hope that perhaps you might pop along. Anyone’s welcome to come along and it’s free to get in, so make sure you pop it in the diary and come down for a couple of drinks after work.
haha.
June 07, 2008
Polish tongue twisters
Polish is hard enough as it is.... do they really need tongue twisters?!
Domki w Słupsku - Słomki w dupsku
(House in Slupsk - ** in your ass)
Pradziadek przy saniach - Sra dziadek przy paniach
Domki w Słupsku - Słomki w dupsku
(House in Slupsk - ** in your ass)
Pradziadek przy saniach - Sra dziadek przy paniach
June 05, 2008
Charlton Heston, Backyard Fox
I knew there was a fox livin' in da hood, but I'd only seen it at late at night walking on the roof of my neighbor's garden shed. However, a couple days ago I was hanging out in my living room and noticed Charlton Heston (that's what we named it) outside beating the crap out of a poor little squirrel. Cheston was flinging it around, presumably to tenderize the meat. Nature at its finest!
March 07, 2008
The bread basket of Europe
Every single time I go to Poland it rains, hails, snows, sleets, and there is just generally shit weather. And I've been about 6 or 7 times, so this sucks. But I'm not about to let some frigid rain get in the way of eating good Polish food. Any trip to Poland requires a cow-like stomach, because the food is delish, and the eatsies are plentiful. I think I ate about 5 meals a day on my last trip to Krakow, because I liked everything so much (but also because it was snowing and it was too cold to do too much else).
Anyway, more to the point: I was in Poland recently to visit family for a 30th wedding anniversary. There was much merriment, and of course, not speaking very much Polish, I took comfort in my war-hero-killingly strong vodka drink, and copious amounts of marinated pork.
22 of us squeezed into the dining room, and the eating commenced at 4pm. 25 minutes later, after a starter, salad, main meal, and snacks, I sat back satisfied, holding my belly so I didn't explode. But no! there was more food coming! Everyone continued to eat until NINE PM! thats five hours of continuous eating. No breaks. I was amazed. I also couldn't move for the next day. The only downside was that at the time of farewells, after 3 kisses from each family member, I was accosted by one wife-of-an-uncle who went in for the kiss. . . ON MY LIPS. OH HELL NO. I saw it coming, and I tried to proffer my cheek instead, but she grabbed my face and planted a nasty wet smooch on my innocent, previously polish-aunty-untouched lips. I was so sad. My insightful fiance insisted that she was probably a hidden lesbian and had been waiting all her life to kiss a nice brown girl like me. Tragic.
In order that you too may enjoy the fun and oft-unintelligible singing, I offer you, the reader, a sneak peak into post-communist Polish life:
Anyway, more to the point: I was in Poland recently to visit family for a 30th wedding anniversary. There was much merriment, and of course, not speaking very much Polish, I took comfort in my war-hero-killingly strong vodka drink, and copious amounts of marinated pork.
22 of us squeezed into the dining room, and the eating commenced at 4pm. 25 minutes later, after a starter, salad, main meal, and snacks, I sat back satisfied, holding my belly so I didn't explode. But no! there was more food coming! Everyone continued to eat until NINE PM! thats five hours of continuous eating. No breaks. I was amazed. I also couldn't move for the next day. The only downside was that at the time of farewells, after 3 kisses from each family member, I was accosted by one wife-of-an-uncle who went in for the kiss. . . ON MY LIPS. OH HELL NO. I saw it coming, and I tried to proffer my cheek instead, but she grabbed my face and planted a nasty wet smooch on my innocent, previously polish-aunty-untouched lips. I was so sad. My insightful fiance insisted that she was probably a hidden lesbian and had been waiting all her life to kiss a nice brown girl like me. Tragic.
In order that you too may enjoy the fun and oft-unintelligible singing, I offer you, the reader, a sneak peak into post-communist Polish life:
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