Hal-isms, Vol. 8

"I don't mind killing animals, but I hate killing a tree.  ...Unless it's already dead and I cut it up to burn it."

"I didn't pack extra socks.  But I don't suppose I can pee that far."

"Jeans are great.  They dampen, and they dry."

and our old favorite:   "Oh no! My achin' ass."

What a Croc

As you know, I have a hate-hate relationship with Crocs.

Remember the Australian sea plane pilot?

And my dad's prostate cancer surgeon?  Bless his superman heart, but he was wearing crocs.  I guess I just lose a tiny bit of respect when I see a professional person wearing them to work.  (I suppose I can forgive somebody for wearing them around the garden.)  But mostly, when I see dudes wearing them around town, ooh that really makes me, like, angry. 

Well, why do I bring it up?  Apparently October is the rainy season in Nicaragua and my hostess with the mostess Bridget recommended that I purchase rubber shoes.  SO GUESS WHAT CAME IN THE MAIL TODAY?  My brand new CROCS.  I think they're actually kind of cute. 

So, in the interest of being nice and unhypocritical, I am officially lifting my Crocs-ban.  Congratulations Kay and Josette and cousin Jacqui!

Self-Defacating Humor

I went to a party in Southern Minnesota many many many many years ago. I was having a very nice time, thank you very much and so when the evening wound down I took on my usual role. You know, "crazy girl must have the floor talks too much has to get everybody's attention". 

Suddenly, in a comedic fit of awesome amazingness, one of my stories lent itself well to the following:

"And here's what I thought of that!"

Which is where I stood up, grabbed my ankles, and let out a HUGE fart. HUGE. Major. Very loud.  Disgusting. I would normally explain that I don't normally do that, (promise), but you wouldn't believe me anyways. Of course I got the hysterical laughter I was looking for (think: that scene in Dumb and Dumber where Jim Carrey is dreaming about lighting the fart and everybody laughs and laughs). But that's not the point of the story.

The point of the story is that a couple nights later, some random dude that was there called my house and ASKED ME ON A DATE. Here's how it went down:

Dude: "so I was wondering if you wanted to go to a movie sometime."

Me: "OH. You mean like, on a date?"

Dude: "yah."

Me: "hahahahaHAAAHAAAAHA" (maniacal laughter)

And then, my memory is spotty, so I don't think I said this out loud to him, or maybe I did? But I was totally thinking, "why would you want to go on a date with a girl who farts in public?" And "why is it I only get asked out in situations like that?"

Something Sort of Weird and Dangerous Just Happened, Vol 2

Ah, Minneapolis.

Today in Midtown at US Bank, I held the door for a Chinese grandpa and his little granddaugher. Then I sat waiting to change the PIN number on my debit card. To my right, two Somalians discussed something something New Mexico something Texas, blah blah Colorado. An Ethiopian woman walked by a Mexican family who were all helped by a Swedish man.

I was just marveling at how, after months of travel behind me and months more to come, Minneapolis is really the place to be for a multicultural experience. You go to Cambodia, and you see Cambodians, Laos has Laotians, etc. But Minneapolis has everybody! And that's why I HEART Minneapolis.

Afterward, I walked to the corner to cross the street, and at the stoplight I saw a woman with a double stroller and two stray kids, one on a leash and the other was bent over the stroller playing with a TINY TINY baby. The little boy on the leash was digging in the dirt and throwing sand, which immediately led me to believe that he has autism like my nephew, and so I was drawn to this little family. As I got closer, I was horrified to see that the other stray kid, an 8-ish year old girl, was tugging on the nose of the TINY TINY baby, like it was a kid or something. I asked the mom, how old is this baby and she said 4 days! She had it at Abbott. She had the rottenest teeth in the world, and soon I realized that she had crazy track marks on her ankles. Then the kid with the rocks threw a bunch and one landed on the TINY TINY baby! I actually considered stealing the baby and running away, but then my good sense got the better of me and I crossed the street instead, reasoning that if I had a baby I probably wouldn't be able to go to Central America next month.

Across the street, at Midtown Global Market, I bought a Huarachaza and ate it. A very sloppy drunk man who was wobbling all over the place came up and said, "all I need is 85 cents". Normally I totally give people money but I had no change because I just gave it for a tip, and so I told him that. Then he said, "can I just have your leftovers then?" "Sure!" I said, but truly, I don't ever leave leftovers and so I was skeptical for his chances. Then he sat down with me. I was kind of irritated because I was sort of happy eating on my own, but then I decided this dude is harmless. However I did turn my tray, pretending to eat the other side of my meal, so that my wallet was closer to me than him.

He talked about the funeral of somebody named Aaron something, who was 'very prominent' in Little Earth and something something and then he said that the Aaron guy has a lot of limousines. I said, "but then he died?"

AND THEN HE PAUSED...IRRITATED...

"Well, "passed away" would have been more appropriate..." he said, and just as I was about to laugh that a very drunk dude was trying to teach me the rules of propriety, suddenly a security guard came up and said, "YOU GOTTA LEAVE." to the guy. Then he asked him, "Do you know this girl?" And the guy was like, "yah" but I shook my head NO. So the security guard yanked the dude's arm, twisted it behind his back, and physically FORCED him out the door of the place. As he was leaving, I caught the eye of a girl who worked at a restaurant and she mouthed to me, "I called security". "Thank you" I mouthed back.

And then I drank two margaritas.

Predictive Texting

You know how on your phone, you can set the text feature to like T9 or whatever so you can quickly and easily type stuff because it already knows what you mean and you dont have to hit buttons several times to get to the letter you want?

I love it. When I discovered this option, my life was forever changed for the better. I also hate it. 'good' = 'home', 'go' = 'in', 'if' = 'he' and it never knows 'Minneapolis' no matter how many times I put it in there. But, I get quite a kick out of what it starts to type as I enter my sisters'/friends' names:

Keri = lesi
Heather = heavier
Josette = lord
Mom = non
Kasey = lard
Kim = Jim
Jacqui = labs
Aaron = barn
Cory = copy

And of course, Kady = Lady. Aw, shucks, T9, I didn't know you cared.

All Alone

My aunt Julie is currently in the hospital recovering from open heart surgery and she is doing very well.  The doctors and nurses are continuously telling her how impressed they are with the speedy fashion in which she is able to get up and walk, and all the other stuff they want to see her doing.

About a month ago, when we were talking about the impending surgery, she and I agreed that sometimes, even though you have tons of friends and family, things like this sort of remind you that you're not married and it kinda makes you feel alone.  I had to share with her that I knew EXACTLY how she was feeling, because of that one time, when I had the HUGE butt zit that I couldn't reach by myself, and there was nobody around, and I cried because I had never felt so all alone.  I think we were brought closer together by that conversation about how we had so much in common.  Me with my butt zit and her with her surgery for a brand new heart valve.

It's Raining Men!

Hallelujah!

I've never felt so very attractive and wanted!  At the Lodge, to date, I have had five offers for dinner and four marriage proposals.  All of the men are over 50, all but one were very drunk, and here are the propective dinner locations:

Subway

Hardee's*

Chocolate Moose (International Falls-style Perkins)

Thunderbird Lodge (classy joint)  So far this guy is in the lead.  Obviously.

(Not an actual photo.  But not too far off.)

Here is the International Falls fishing Lodge mating ritual, as far as I can tell:

Drunk guy sees I am not wearing a wedding ring.

Drunk guy figures he is single (maybe.)

Drunk guy finds us to be immediately compatible.  (= both single).

Drunk guy asks me out.

To Subway, for a sandwich.

*The Hardee's guy (60-something...) asked if I want to "hook up".  Horrified, yet skeptical, I asked him what exactly "hook up" meant.  He said, "you know, go to Hardee's for a coffee."

Bartender for the Kiddies. They love me!

At the lodge, one of our more popular drinks is called a "Long Island Tea" and contains the following:
1 shot Gin
1 shot Vodka
1 shot Rum
1 shot Triple Sec
Fill rest of glass with coke and add a splash of orange juice. 
Garnish with lemon.
Some bars prepare them with an additional shot of tequila, but I don't prefer the taste so I just stick with the above recipe.  If you haven't had one, they're quite amazing and actually go down very smoothly.  They almost taste like iced tea, thus the name.

We also have a virgin drink called a "Shirley Temple", aka "Kiddie Cocktail".  I make them by holding my soda sprayer over the glass and pouring both Sprite and Sour into the cup, adding a splash of orange juice and grenadine, then garnishing with two cherries.

And let me tell you the kids LOVE 'EM.  I convince most kids to at least try a Shirley Temple.

Well, the other day I was bartending and in a very big hurry.  I got an order in from the dining room for a bunch of cocktails and a Shirley Temple.  I'm sure you can tell where I'm going with this.  Absentmindedly pouring...I was almost done filling the glass with coke before I realized I had been preparing a Long Island Tea for the poor kid. 

"Hows about four shots of alcohol, kiddo?" 

A couple of our regulars, Karen and Norbert, were there when I made the realization.  So, for the rest of their stay, when I asked what I could get for them, they would say, "Two Kiddie Cocktails, please."

Can't Sleep...

As I lay here in my bed, scared of the dark, without my 8-year-old nephew Murphy to protect me, my imagination runs wild.  I'm pretty sure that the raccoon I shot is conspiring with the two bass I caught yesterday, and they are all under my bed, plotting to exact their bloody revenge.  Did I lock the front door?  Because I'm also pretty sure that a few feetless deer, a squirrel and some crows from dad's garage fridge collection would be happy to join in.  I gotta get out of here. 

p.s. I asked my dad what was up with the deer feet and he said he was "drying them out".  Obviously.

Plannin'

Imminence dictates that I at least start thinking about the following:

I fly to Charlotte NC on October 5th, then to Managua Nicaragua on October 10th.  I won't be back in the USA until like June 2011 or so. 

Remember how I accidentally acquired an extra suitcase in Australia (namely by buying too much crap that I felt I must have)?  Well this time I have a new attitude.  NO NEW SUITCASES. 

And furthermore, I'm buying a SMALLER backpack so as to avoid trying to fill it up too much.  So there. 

Fart Tax

At the Lodge, in addition to my waitressing duties, they have me covering the bar.  Recently I have decided to take charge of the darn place.  Take for example, last night.  One of my customers leaned over right in front of me and totally farted.  I tried to use the "I'm a lady please don't fart" but it didn't work because, well you're dealing with drinking fishermen.  So I decided to hit him where it would hurt.   

"That'll be $1.00."  I say, secretly impressed with this new, genius idea.  Why hadn't I thought of it before?

"Huh?"  He says.

"$1.00 a fart." 

His buddies started laughing hysterically.  (Apparently he's the farter of the bunch and he's been bugging them with his farting the whole weekend.)  I made $4.00 fart tax before closing time. 

Tonight they came back in, and we enjoyed merry conversation, when suddenly he excused himself to go outside.  To fart, of course. 

"See now, man, you are MAKING MONEY."  I told him.

p.s. This totally confirms my philosophy that if you hit a man in the pocketbook he will finally listen to you.  You can beg and plead and even cry, and never make headway.  Start charging for indiscretions -- now you got submission.

*Bring your cash, check or VISA if you can't leave your farts at home.

International Falls

Some of my fave things about this town are from an annual trip I used to take up here with my girlfriends.  I just found these old photos from Summer's memory card and stole them.

1) Going fishing with my dad.  In the first two years, we caught one fish total.  (Thank goodness for Ashley.)

2) Here we are pretending to milk the plywood cows.

3) Magazines, crossword puzzles, and pitchers in the yard!

4) You see dead animals.  Summer sees "photo shoot opportunity".

5) Making sushi!!

Murph-less

I already miss you, little dude.

The Beauty of Watching TV All Day Long

You stumble upon gems like this one:

The Weirdest Thing

Last night, I was standing near a stainless steel container house where some homeless people were sleeping, and this super dirty guy was climing up the side of it.  The house became very tippy, and before I could scream out to him to CUT IT OUT, the whole house tipped over.  People were screaming and I saw a man totally fall onto his face.  The guy who was climbing up it sort of just laughed it off.  What a jerk!

Then the whole container house drove away and I realized my pizza was still cooking inside of it.  I was so angry I started to cry.  Then I remembered not a lot has been happening in my life lately and I haven't had a ton of stuff to blog about and then thought, "This is totally going on my blog".  And then I felt better.

And then I woke up.

A Quote From my Mom (...That Incriminates Me)

"Vodka?  Vodka won't affect your diahrrea.  It'll get you through it!"

"County Law!"

EMBED-Woman Too Excited About Arrest On TV - Watch more free videos

Hal-isms, Vol. 7

"Do you want see my dream kennel?  One you can't roon? (ruin)  I been thinkin' of this for years."

"You been gone two weeks, yah you probably need a break."

Dreaming 'Bout Celebs, Vol. 2

I was hanging out with Angelina again, and this time she had two little biological boys plus Shiloh.  I was afraid to tell her that I thought the littlest one had Downs' Syndrome.  In reference to Brad, I said, "so, what about your husband?  I mean, your BF...your SO...your FOMC?  get it?  father of my children?"

She was like, "yah. I get it."

Neighborhood Kids Say the Darndest Things (aka The Worst Kind of Turd is an Honest One, the Prequel)

Look at these beautiful, amazing, enduring Sudanese children.  With their brilliant smiles and willingness to *hug* and *hug* some more.  My cheeks reddened as the little gent said "don't go", and smashed his face against my car window.  The girls asked "can we come with you?", while I voted myself the best Auntie to all children everywhere.

But what really made my empty womb beam, yes beam -- was when one of the little girls exclaimed to me (mid-hug):

"You have a very big fat stomach."

"No Fatties"