Internal wake-up calls

Because I work six days a week and therefore have to get up early six days a week the most dreadful thing has been happening to me. I've been waking up automatically on days off at 8am, as though my body is saying to me 'it's 8am! you're always up at this time! what's going on?' Now, I'm not saying I spring up out of bed at 8am. I don't think I've ever sprung out of bed in my life. I just mean at 8am, looking like a heavily sedated big foot I try to find my cell phone and discover the time is not 2pm like I thought. Then sometimes I go to the bathroom — with my eyes slightly closed so I don't wake up completely (thank god I'm not a boy), but not fully closed just to make sure I'm actually in the bathroom and not just dreaming about being in the bathroom, cause that could get ugly.

It's a terrible thing automatically waking up at 8am, and even though I immediately go back to sleep and, like today, wake up at 1:30, I still find it a bad habit. Although, I will say this: waking up at 8am on a Sunday and then realizing you can go back to sleep and sleep as long as you want is easily the most awesome realization in the world.

Oh god, and speaking of working a lot. Yesterday we had a bbq with all the people at work and my boss was talking about how it's important for people to keep their sex lives interesting and, fine, she was only doing it because one of my co-workers brought it up and she wanted all of us to think she was cool but, still....can I get a communal eeeeeeewwwwwww? Also, she kept mentioning her 'husband' and it's like sista, please, we all know you ain't married biatch. But other than that, she was actually kind of — dare I say this? — pleasant yesterday. Gasp. This, fortunately, does not mean I will stop putting a lot of effort into hating her.

- E

The Not List

Here's a thing you should know about Chileans: we (yes, we) are all full of shit. Seriously, intensly full of shit. Millions of promises are made because it's what people think other people want to hear and nothing is done.

So, in honor of my people — and a vast and varied people we are — I present to you a list of things I plan on trying to NOT do while I am here. No false promises, just a whole lot of me not doing things.

— Pick the clothes up off the floor of my apartment. It's a matter of principle.
— Wash dishes before all of them run out. Only because I feel it might make my mom really, really happy if I did.
— Buy another thing of gas for my heater. Damn it, if I have to freeze to death I will but it's supposed to be spring.
— Go on a date with someone who calls me 'bebe.' This speaks for itself.
— Take a date to my cousin's wedding. Also a matter of principle and, you know, lack of resources.
— Accept any marriage proposals. I receive a plethera of them on a daily basis, in case you hadn't been paying attention.
— Make an effort to get along with my boss. Oh, if you knew her....
— Stop bitching about how I hate my boss. She seriously sucks.
— Stop making faces at my boss when her back is turned. Oh, if you knew her...
— Keep my books properly organized. Down with the system!
— Make out with someone on the subway. This is just gross. Everyone needs to stop. I can't express this sentiment enough.
— Put little hearts on a post-it, because as we've already established, it's just not my style. Or, is it?
— Say some really, really offensive shit about other humans really loudly on the subway. I don't wanna get into it because I'm still shocked, but one of my co-workers said this insanely offensive thing and I'm still trying to get over the fact that she exists.
— Start drinking rum regularly. This country is all ass-backwards. They should worship the rum cause it tastes like poo and drink the vodka cause it's delicious. (That's a reference to a Real World episode and if you can tell me which one and who said it, I'll give you a prize.)
— Start prefering peeled tomatoes to unpeeled ones. That's just weird and I won't have it.
— Get a mullet. A...mull...et...need I say more?
— Feel worse for homeless people than stray dogs. Those poor dogs. I mean, you'd have to see them. They're everywhere.
— Eat McDonald's again. Did it the other day and remembered why it's disgusting. I got a serious McTummy afterwards.
— Put someone else's email up on a public bathroom stall.......hahha NOT. I'm totally doing this one. Sucker.

I must say, that's a whole lot of nothing I'm doing, though. I'm really excited.

Any ideas for other must-not-dos?

Loves,
— E

Post-Independence or why I'm an awesome friend

There are a lot of great things and, surprisingly, a good amount of terrible things about long holiday weekends. One of those terrible things is that now my sleeping schedule is out of whack and even though I know I'm going to want to die in 5 HOURS when I have to get up for work, right now I just can't sleep. Luckily for you that means I'm inspired to write some doo doo on this blog for you to read.

So, several things in no particular order that will probably make no sense to you. I'll try and number them for organizational purposes.

1. Independence day has come and gone and all I got out of it was an extra ten pounds in delicious meat and bread and things with onion in them. Mmmmm. I think I've eaten more in the last few days than in the last year combined. Hahahahaha....wait...Hahahaha...fine even I don't believe that one. But I did eat a lot and I had a full four day weekend, which was super duper awesome.

2. The whole eating thing would be really great if it wasn't for the fact that I was incessantly reminded that my cousin is getting married in a month and a half or so and, apparently, I have to look decent for this. In some sort of dress. Did I mention I am not the one getting married? Sometimes I have to remind myself.

3. Speaking of cousins and weddings I had this amazing alcohol-induced conversation with the future groom on Saturday that went something like this (translations are rough, specifically from memory, but I'll do my best):

Cousin: I'm really happy about everything. You know I'm really glad you're gonna be here for the wedding cause I feel like you're the representative for the family from the states.

Me: Um, yeah but [one of our aunts] will be here for the wedding so she can represent herself.

Cousin: [silence]... I mean I'm not dumb. I know that maybe....I mean that's why like I told you...you know maybe there's a guy or whatever that you maybe want to take to the wedding...that's why I asked if you were gonna bring someone...

Me: No, I'm pretty sure I'm gonna go alone.

Cousin: Yeah? Cause I mean you know, let's be honest, like you go out you have your own thing going on. maybe there's someone.

Me: You know [his sister] is the one who started all of this date thing. Why do I have to take a date? I mean, I didn't even want to take a date from the beginning. I assumed we wouldn't take dates. I can go alone. I mean, whatever.

Cousin: No, of course. So, you're sure?

Me: Well, I mean, like, if I don't tell you in the next two weeks then I'm definitely, DEFINITELY going alone.

4. I realized the day after the conversation that the reason he insinuated I'm a slut is because they thought I was going on a date — not the time I actually went on a date but a time that I was sort of supposed to go on something like a date that wasn't actually a date at all and never even happened. Anyway, word spread about the non-date that they never actually found out didn't actually happen and so they think I'm dating, which realistically, I'm totally not. Also, I'm definitely going alone.

5. I was in Limache (small town like 2 hours out of Santiago) with some of the family from my father's side and they got into this whole conversation about 9/11 and about how the tsunami was actually a meteor and how the government is keeping secerets. How it came about I'm not sure, but I've made the decision that I am going to be pleading the 5th when it comes to conversations about 9/11 because everyone in this country is ignorant and has zero understanding of what that event was like. Nothing more needs to be said here, except that after this conversation I took a three hour nap and missed a hell of a lot of conspiracy theories.

6. I've come to a lot of decisions about things I would like to NOT do while I am here. I'll blog about this later, cause I could go on for years.

7. Remember Tracy Chapman's "Fast Car"? Tracy Chapman is like a god here. Isn't that kind of weird? That was totally a good song, though. I heard it on the radio today and I was like "yeah man, this song rocks." Then I realized I never actually knew the lyrics to it and I did that thing where I mumbled until the chorus came up and then I sang really loud but still pretended like I totally know all the lyrics. Then I got home and googled the lyrics and tried to memorize them for next time. Good song.

8. HOW GOOD IS PRISON BREAK?! I swear I have a major anxiety attack everytime I watch it. Although, I'm not caught up yet so no one tell me what's happened. Wentworth looks INCREDIBLE in that cream suit. I mean, very appropriately named color, now that I think about it.

9. A few days before Abby left, we did this amazing thing. I mean, truly, genuinely amazing. Possibly the best thing we have ever done. I'll explain how it came about. Abby, noticing how much shit people write all over public places in this city said to me on several different occassions: "We should put someone's email address on this [bus, wall, floor, tree, you name it, she requested it]." Then one day, as an awesomely amazing surprise we were at this diner at like 6 in the morning (imagine how that happened and you'll understand why I did it) and I was in this restroom and I looked at the stall and I remembered that I had a sharpie in my purse and I said to myself, Eugenia this is your chance to do the most amazing thing you've ever done. And, I did it. I put Mark Kelly's email address on the bathroom stall. Except, I put it up there wrong. Thankfully, I told Abby about it right away ["OH MY GOD, bathroom! take a picture. for real. hahahahaha. amazing. Mark's email cause I had a sharpie. what was it? huh? oh my god, go take the picture. hurry up" - you get the idea]. Thankfully she kind of understood me and went to explore and made the neccessary corrections and, well, I won't keep you waiting any longer....




I can only hope he gets as much out of this as I have.

And watch out friends with email addresses because now that I have tasted victory I cannot stop.

Loves,

- E

Mulgrew.com

Although I am putting this into my links on the side of this page, I have to post about this character I've stumbled across because he destroys my life regularly. I suppose I feel like I owe it to him to advertise his crap on here. Although, I don't know him so I don't really owe him shit. And also, he gets like a bazillion more hits then I do, so it's not like he needs the help. And, who the hell does he think he is acting like I owe him something anyway? Jackass.

Um, so check out Jason Mulgrew cause he's funny and also reminds me a little bit of Karl Pilkington which is just damn hilarious.


Gotta spread the love and the funny,

- E

Espresso! (What the hell is that?)

Remember two posts ago when I mentioned this dumbass secretary had put litlle hearts on my post-it?...Well, scroll down and read it you lazy bastard. It's right there.

Anyhoo, this secretary is like the nightmare that doesn't end. Today she did the most ridiculous thing that, honestly, embarrasses me as a woman in the free world.

So, we started class, meaning two of my four students and I were in the conference room of this office and the door was closed because - as far as anyone outside of the conference room knew - we had started class. Class had started! Clear? Good...So, suddenly the door opens and homegirl walks in - in like a really inappapropriate-for-work skirt, might I add - with ONE coffee made especially for this student of mine knowing there were three of us in there. A coffee, mind you, that he DID NOT ask her for. A coffee, mind you, that was excessive because he had already gone to get his own coffee. And it wasn't some lame ass plastic cup coffee either. It was like a fancy espresso (what the hell is that?) in a fancy cup. Someone please tell me, WHO IS THIS WOMAN? I mean she strolls in and then shakes her ass all out of the classroom like genuinely proud of what she had just blatantly done. I don't think I have ever been more embarrassed for another person, with the exception of myself in the ninth grade because I was, oh, just about as childish and mildly retarded as this secretary ho. In the ninth grade! When I was 15!

Some of you may be saying, "But Eugenia, it was just a coffee," and to those people I say, fuck you. Seriously. I mean, little hearts and then a special made coffee? These are the kinds of tactics you use when you're in high school. Grown ass people don't behave like this. At least not where I come from.

And where is that, you ask?

Planet earth, friends. Planet fucking earth. Where real people live.

She's totally making women everywhere look bad. Also, she's not even all that cute. I do have to admit I would totally allow this kind of shit if she was like a hunchback freak or something. Cause that would just be awesome. But, sadly not. Honestly, next class I wouldn't be surprised if homegirl resorted to punching this dude in the face or pulling his hair.

Do other people understand my distress or am I totally alone on this one? C'mon!

Seriously.

- E

Seasonal Babies

My whole life I thought I was a fall baby. Born in the fall and destined to always have a birthday at the beginning of the school year when no one really cares. I resigned myself to this thought. I took on the role of a fall baby: a little chilly but not ice cold, starting to whither away but not completely gone, fall colors were my colors and the world seemed right.

But, today I stumbled accross some very interesting thoughts. I´m actually not a fall baby at all. Because here in the southern hemisphere we have opposite seasons, I, Eugenia Salvo, am a spring baby. A spring baby! I mean this really changes my view on the world. I wasn´t born at the beginning of the school year, I was born almost at the end. That time of the year when people kind of care. This is seriously life altering. I mean, can you imagine me as - gasp, can I even say it? - a spring person? Spring! The season of new life and whatnot.

This could prove to be a very interesting experience after all.

- E

Hearts on a post-it

As far as I can tell September 18th seems to be the most ridiculously important day in all of Chile. Independance day — or according to the TV at the subway station, the day we celebrate the first government forming (and not actually Chile's independance from Spain) — is fast approaching. All I've been hearing lately is people talking about barbeques and flags, and independance, and getting drunk when there are kids around. I'd like to say I'm excited about all of those things and I am, but I'm mostly excited about getting two days off of work.

In the mean time, the following ridiculous thing has happened to me:

[Long story short] I left one of my students (who takes classes in a group at their office) a post-it on his desk and one of the secretaries thought it would be HILARIOUS to put little hearts on it. So, for two days this poor man thought I was freakish enough to try to seduce him with little hearts on a post-it and everyone in the office knew about it and also thought it was HILARIOUS. Then they finally told him it wasn't me, which I suppose was awfully nice of them. Needless to say Eugenia didn't hear about it until a week and a half later. Guess which two people in this story didn't actually think the whole thing was hilarious?

Seriously, who would put LITTLE HEARTS ON A POST-IT? I mean, I'm just saying. I bet she did it with like a pink pen, too.

On a side note, my students are great sometimes and I totally adore this group. So, it was all good. We awkwardly laughed about it and then we agreed that little hearts on a post-it isn't really my 'style' and then we watched The Office.

little hearts,
- E

Chile, the modern world

There's this thing about the subway here in Santiago: it's clean. I mean really, really clean. There's no grafitti, there's no garbage and even the dirtiest of the dirty bastards will put away his wrapper/can when he's done instead of throwing it on the floor. I think I've gotten so used to it that I forget how truly remarkable this thing is. The same people who can't figure out how to run a proper bus system or install a damn telephone in less than a month have this incredible subway system that's kind of pleasant to be on. It shocks me still how a country can be so dysfunctional and yet, so logical.

This morning on my way to work I remembered how remarkable this whole Chilean subway system is. They now have TVs IN the subway car. Please take a moment to imagine my amazement as I sat mouth agape, staring at Olivia Newton John and John Travolta in that lovely scene from Grease where they both, covered in tight leather things, lovingly proclaim "You're the one that I want." Does riding the subway get any better than that? Between that and old school Madonna videos, Shakira looking busted in her MTV Unplugged performance and some guy singing along loudly to Eric Clapton's "Change The World," I may never get off of the subway again.

New York, Phildelphia: please take note. Dirty, smelly ass subway = bad. Clean, video-showcasing subway = good.

Loves,

- E

The Crocodile Hunter

I'm still slightly in shock about this, and although I always joked that homeboy was crazy as all hell and was totally gonna get himself killed one day, I didn't think it would actually happen. But, it's true folks. The crocodile hunter has died.

Two comments:
1. A stingray? I'd like for him to have been killed by something a little cooler. I mean the man did shove his face into some pretty freaky animals. A stingray seems so...well, like a stingray. Who knew those things were deadly anyway?
2. This might seem insensitive, but I mean it in the most honorable way possible... Crikey!

Man, I'm really sad about this. I can't lie.

- E

I hesitate to tell this story, but sources stronger than I decided it must be told, and so, who am I to argue?

So, I went on this date. The details leading up to the date are kind of relevant but not the kind of details that one would share over the internet when one knows that ones parents will be reading them. So, we´ll say this: it was evening, there was a bar, telephone numbers were exchanged. The rest you can just make-up.

Anyhoo, I went on this date. Unwillingly. Fine, willingly but I was convinced it was a good idea by sources stronger than I (namely Abby and my cousin Claudia) and so I went. It was a Tuesday and we met at 9:30 at - get this - the mall (!) to see a movie. We saw Click. It was awful. yadda yadda yadda, I never want to see him again. ....Haha! You thought I´d skip over all the good parts, but you were wrong. Please let me give you some highlights of things that this gentleman did/said while we were on this date.

- When we met in front of the theatre he was with these people who then rudely left right as I arrived. He told me they were friends of his sister´s and then he said "They asked me if I was here to meet my girlfriend..." (silence on my part for fear of what was coming next) ... "I told them 'something like that'" ... ... ... um, something like that!?

- Although when we met he had a drink IN HIS HAND he felt compelled to tell me that he had been in treatment for alcohol abuse/depression. Yes, that´s right.

- His father has eight children, from four different mothers and is expecting his ninth with a thirty year old woman. The man is 68.

- He told me that when (WHEN!) I meet his father, I will really like him.

- He told me all of his siblings have kids except him and his sister that´s gay and then he told me that he lives with his brother...who is gay. Am I going insane?

- At some point during the end of the movie, he told me he was crying. During Click. Click! Crying! Kill me.

- He kept staring at me and I´d be like "WHAT?!" and then at some point the following conversation occurs:
me: WHAT?!
him: I just want to look at you. I can´t look at you?
me: um, no. You can´t.
him: (long pause) can I ask you a question?
me: (long pause) um, what?
him: why are you so beautiful?
me: ... ... ...
him: you´re not going to answer me?
me: um, no I´m trying to watch the movie. sssshhhh.

- He kissed my forehead. Does that seem like something you do to someone who is over five and NOT your daughter or niece?

- He asked me if my students bother me about being so pretty and when I responded with "My students are all professionals and they´re married and have children" he replied with "Well, do people on the street bother you?"...What?!

- He called me to make sure I got home okay AND the next day at like 2pm when I told him very politely I was working and couldn´t talk and then he called me 'bebe' and said he´d call later. BE-BE!

Also, he had made me a copy of a Morrissey DVD and later when I watched it I realized he looks a little like Morrissey. Guess which DVD I am never watching again?

Man, this is what my life has become. Attracting the freaks. Although it seems like a step up from repelling, it´s not really.

Also, Abby went on a date that was almost identical (i.e. they went to the movies at the mall) except her guy was really nice and dressed in a suit - which was totally a goal for her while she was here - and then he didn´t call her again.

And that my friends is the life of a single girl in her 20s. And then my family wonders why I insist that I will NOT be falling in love and getting married while I am here.

Ugh,

- E