Batteries

I need a new battery for my digital camera. This has caused me much anguish in the last month or so for two reasons:

1. You can't find a CR-V3 (which kevin pointed out sounds like C3PO) anywhere in this city.
2. No one understands how difficult it is to find this damn thing and most of the time my 'I can't find a battery for my camera' comment is followed by 'Why don't you just charge it?' As if if I had the option to recharge I'd be looking for a damn battery. Are you people really that dumb?! Bejebus!

So, the other day I went to this store that FINALLY had this ridiculous CR-V3 battery, which I'm still convinced is just two double A's batteries attached by a very flimsly little piece material. Anyway, the battery costs 18,000 pesos, which is roughly 36 dollars. 36! Dollars! Needless to say this price seemed a little bit, oh, excessive, and I considered storming out immediately yelling things in French and kicking babies. But then I saw they had a relatively reasonable alternative: a rechargable CR-V3. This might be something, I thought. So I had the guy bring one out and test it to make sure it works and all that jazz. And, of course, the thing didnt work. Lights were blinking and it looked like things were happening but really there was nothing except the guy from the store fiddling with some kind of screwdrivers, some little machine with numbers and this idiot battery charger that couldn't have charged Whitney Houston's ass on crack. So, he tried to tell me it doesn't work because it's 'too new.' I, in turn, gave him my very famous 'do i look THAT stupid to you, because fine i would have totally still bought this thing if you had just told me it works but now that you said that i know you're full of shit' look.

He was prompted to order up another charger to test, cocky in his feeling that the next one would either work or he'd pretend it did and sell it to me anyway. I was prompted to pick up the little paper with instructions (in english!) that came with the charger and read it. When the next charger came out — after I had already been at this store watching this guy fiddle for a charger for 25 minutes — it, again, failed to even pretend like it was charging. I then had the following conversation with the sales guy:

Me: "The light is supposed to be red when it's charging."
Sales guy: "No, no, it's charging now."
Me: "No, it has to be red when it's charging. This one is just blinking green like the other one was. That means that it's ready to charge but not that it's charging."
Sales guy: "No."
Me: "How are YOU going to tell ME how the thing works!" [pulling out little paper with instructions] "The paper that came WITH the charger says it has to be red! You can't tell me how it works, it says it right here! That light is not red"
Sales guy's friend: "Haha, you have to learn english"
Me: [cocky smile] "well, I mean that's what the paper says. See here where it says 'red'" [pointing to the word 'red' on the paper] "that says that the light has to be red. Red. Not green. I'm not going to buy some thing that doesn't work. I may as well just throw my money at you."

Suffice it to say I left that store feeling pretty awesome and knowledgeable for...well, basically for speaking english and being able to follow simple directions and sales guy felt pretty damn crunchy.

I hate sales people and love english now. Also, my mom is sending me two (!) CR-V3 batteries that she paid 15 dollars for. So, take that city of Santiago with your overpriced batteries. (Thanks mom!)

Suckers.

- E

p.s. I saw at least three really, really bratty children today that made me geniunely thank the lord for the horrible cramps I get once a month, 'cause you know if I had a kid he/she would be the world's most hyper-active spoiled terrible thing on the planet. And I'd definitely have to consider (i said consider!) accidentally driving away while he/she is peeing at a gas station - one that's very far away from home and from where our path cannot be tracked, naturally.

I lika da sodah

Since I arrived in Chile, there are two things that have continuously made me feel - how should I say this - mentally deficient. (Is that how you spell deficient? see what I mean...)

The first relates to the following excerpt from an email I received from my father (do you love that I'm publishing these things, father?):

'Jei Dóter: Aim sorri zat llu ar sic.'

Now, take a moment to process that, if you can.

...

Anything?


....

No? Well, you would be right about where I was when I received this email if you have no idea what the hell that says. I thought, German?...Hmmm, no that would be weird. But then again...well, it is my father.

But no. Get this - my father was trying to write out this:'Hey Daughter: I'm sorry that you are sick,' except he was trying to write it phonetically as someone who speaks english with a spanish accent.

Clever huh? .....yeah....hmmm...

Anyway, how does this relate to me feeling mentally inferior, you ask? Well, it's because of this: Whenever I use a random english word during a conversation in spanish I have to pronounce it as though I were speaking english with a very thick spanish accent. Otherwise people will just not understand what the hell I just said. Have you ever had a situation where not pronouncing something correctly causes misunderstandings? It's really very very bizarre. But, the thing is that I relax on this matter when I am with people that I know speak some english or will understand. Cut to last weekend when I was with a group of cultured folk some of whom speak english. Imagine us having a conversation about dried, salted meat. Imagine me saying 'Oh! Beef Jerkey!' and then imagine three people repeating the words 'beef jerkey' in a mocking tone trying to imitate the way I say it. Have you ever been in a situation where you felt like a douche for saying things PROPERLY? I don't know if my brain can handle much more of this backwards world.

That's the first thing. The second thing deals with my inherent lack of ability to maintain some kind of balance while I walk. Or, you know, the fact that I fall. A lot.

In the US when you fall you know how people do that thing where they look at you and for a split second they're maybe concerned but then once you hit the floor they're already giggling at your dumbass? I find that comforting. Here, people are actually concerned. Mostly the men because they have to be all chivalrous and help you up and all that shit when what you really wanna do is stand up and walk away like it never happened. But they, meanwhile, wanna have a conversation about whether or not you're okay and how, hey that last step is a doozy.

When my cousin got married (the legal civil ceremony not the church one) I was wearing these pants with cuffs and these heels and I always have this issue with the heel getting trapped in the pants and whatnot. I should probably be more cautious, considering, but alas. Anyway, I was walking down these stairs and right as I was about the reach the end of them my heel gets stuck and I trip and fall down like three steps right into this lovely little mud puddle type thing. I knew that it was bad because when I finally looked up like eight people had stopped in their tracks to look at me and they had an oh-my-god-that-girl-is-definitely-dead expression on their faces. I was actually fine but then I had to have a conversation with the guy who sells juice about how my pants were dirty with mud. At least twice I day I do that little trip thing where you kind of go forward like you're about to start jogging but then catch your balance again. At least twice a day some guy on the street catches my arm like he's the hero of the century that keeps me from falling. Then we have that awkward like 'hee hee thanks...I was just um...waaaahhhh!' and then I cry and run away. I think it's the crying that makes it awkward. Also, the fact that I cannot seem to keep my balance for longer than 10 minutes. It's probably because while I walk I am trying to figure out how I should be saying 'Sprite' so that people understand me when I ask for one.

Espriii?

Eh-sprite?

eh-sprithe?

It's a hard-knock life.

- E

Blogger is totally stalking me and also THE BIG EVENT OF THE YEAR

So, two things about my profile:

One, blogger totally updated my age automatically which is at the same time odd and kind of disturbing. What's the deal, yo?
Two, I updated my profile (at right) and I'm awesome so go look at it. I mention sporks twice, need I say more?

Okay, anyhoo, so my cousin's now infamous wedding came and went and shockingly no one died or lost a limb, which is nice. It was all wedding-like and my dress was red and, as it turns out, none but one of my cousins took a date to the wedding — even the ones in relationships. So, you can imagine how thankful Eugenia was that she also went to the wedding alone and that now that's it's over she can go back to refering to herself in the third person and not worrying about things like dresses and shoes and hair and all that girly wedding crap. God, I'm such a dude. Anyway, possibly the wedding can best be explained through pictures (which of course my family would be horrified to know I am posting in the internet). I'll do my best to narrate but, as weddings go, this one was pretty unfunny and also romantic and shit and who wants to see that on this blog? Certainly not me. On a side note, I did get a little bit of Oh-god-I-wanna-get-married-and-why-is-my-life-miserable-and-why-do-I-attract-freaks-or-married-men water in my eyes, but no crying thank god cause that would have been embarassing.

Anyway, the wedding: a photo essay

No one cares about the church ceremony so we'll skip right to the partaaaaaay

Here are the bride and groom making their grand sunny entrance. Would you believe me if I said this picture was taken at like 8pm?



Here is the groom and his twin sister partying it up. Ask me how many rum and cokes I had had when I took this picture. Ask me. I totally won't answer you but, let me tell you, the dancing was awesome at this point.



Here is a picture of my cousin Javier and I where Javier actually looks kinda normal...and I just now realized how not interesting these pictures must be to you...so...um...this is it.



Now, on that note, I'll leave you with a list of things that The Flaming Lips "Do You Realize?" says we should realize so you can think about them the same way I do when I'm riding the bus all philosophical-like and listening to this song.

- that you have the most beautiful face
- that we're floating in space
- that happiness makes you cry
- that everyone you know someday will die
- that the sun doesn't go down - it's just an illusion caused by the world spinning 'round
- that life goes fast
- that it's hard to make the good things last

deep huh? That's what my bus rides are like these days.

Goodtimes.com,
- E

Guess Who´s Back...Back Again...

So, I haven't posted in forever because I've had a bit of writer's block and I whined about it a lot and put off posting because I can and blah blah blah blah...

Today I saw this really ugly baby on the subway and I got inspired. Not because I am inspired by really ugly babies (except for being inspired to not have babies) but because this baby was so ugly I had to take out a notebook to doodle on while I rode the subway because the damn thing just kept looking at me and it was freaking me out. And I realized I always do this ridiculous thing. Whenever I have to wait somewhere or I am trying to look busy, I will take out a piece of paper and write down random things as though these things were important information that I HAVE to write down at that very moment. Most of these things end up being song lyrics to whatever song happens to be in my head at the time but sometimes I start writing down random things that people say or, more often than not, random thoughts that I have. So, today on the subway when I looked down at my notebook I found a piece of paper from the other day with the following little gems on it:

'Come to Tazmania'
'There are a lot of hot guys working at the bank'
'oh no you di-in't'
'I'm definitely wearing flip-flops'
'2,800 millones'
'oh my god, i'm tired'
'i'm terrible at video games'

That's just a sneak peek but see if you can follow my thought process there. Although don't hurt your brain trying to figure out how my brain jumps from the theme song to the Tazmanian Devil cartoons to hot guys at the bank. I'm sorry to say I can't explain that one. Also I write all of these in cursive because I see it as a good way to pratice my cursive writing and usually when it comes out kinda ugly or I mess it up I write the same sentence again so that it looks nice. For whom you might ask....and that would be a good question.

The mind is a terrible thing to explore.

Loves,
- E