Flarn Filth Filth Flarn and Filth

or otherwise known as Fucking Fucker Fuck God Damn and Fuck!

Ya know what pisses me off? When certain people in authority tell you something you will be getting and then what they told you you are getting isn't what you got. What the hell?!?!?!

Remind me never to take a "promotion" to a job that is tons more work than I used to do, incredibly ladened with more responsibility and tasks and believe the boss when he tells you that the salary increase you will recieve will not be insulting.

Consider me insulted...

in·sult (ĭn-sŭlt')
v. in·sult·ed, in·sult·ing, in·sults
v. tr.


1.) To treat with gross insensitivity, insolence, or contemptuous rudeness.
2.) To affront or demean

Fucking Fucker Fuck God Damn and FUCK!!!

Just cause she asked

And before YOU ask, yes I commented on her blog

From Patricia:

YOU'RE ON MY FRIENDS LIST, I WANNA KNOW YOU... I want to know 34 things about you. I don't care if we never talk, never liked each other, or if we already know everything about each other. Short and sweet is fine... I just wanna know you better! Thanks! =) Just answer in the comments.


1. Can you cook?
2. What was your dream growing up?
3. What talent do you wish you had?
4. Favorite place?
5. Favorite vegetable?
6. What was the last book you read?
7. What zodiac sign are you?
8. Any Tattoos and/or Piercings?
9. Worst Habit?
10. Do we know each other outside of the Internet?
11. What is your favorite sport?
12. Do you have a Negative or Optimistic attitude?
13. What would you do if you were stuck in an elevator with me?
14. Worst thing to ever happen to you?
15. Tell me one weird fact about you.
16. Do you have any pets?
17. Do you know how to do the Macarena?
18. What time is it where you are now?
19. Do you think clowns are cute or scary?
20. If you could change one thing about how you look, what would it be?
21. Would you be my partner in crime or my conscience?
22. What color eyes do you have?
23. Ever been arrested?
24. Wine, gin, singlemalt, can, bottle, Draft or teetotaler?
25. If you won $10,000 dollars today, what would you do with it?
26. What kind of bubble gum do you prefer to chew?
27. What's your favorite bar to hang at?
28. Do you believe in ghosts?
29. Favorite thing to do in your spare time?
30. Do you swear a lot?
31. Biggest pet peeve?
32. In one word, how would you describe yourself?
33. In one word, how would you describe me?
34. Will you repost this so I can fill it out and do the same for you?

Hide the Dictionary!

While trolling for an interesting topic to vent my spleen about, I came across the winner. I know it has been a while since I have blogged, but nothing has sparked my imagination lately. I could go on a political rant, but I have been there and done that and quite frankly, GW comparing the war on terror to the American Revolutionary war was just so stupid I couldn’t be bothered to lambaste him at this point. He is a buffoon and to call him a monkey is an insult to monkeys on branches. Haven’t you always wanted a monkey?
Right..I digress…

So it turns out that an award winning (2007 Newbery Medal) book is being banned from some US schools and libraries over the use of 1 word. Here I am thinking to myself: “Could it be the N word?”. I, for one, hate that word. But noooooooo. Not an N word in sight. The word of the day folks is “scrotum”. Yes, you heard me: scrotum. The book in question is by Susan Patron and it is called The Higher Power of Lucky. Now, this book is intended for readers from 9-12 years of age and won the previously mentioned very prestigious award. The word that is so offensive is used after the heroine of the book, Lucky Trimble, overhears a man talking about a snakebite to his dog.
The word is repeated as Lucky is described as thinking the word is "medical and secret, but also important".

Okay. I am all for protecting kids from porn, nasty images, gratuitous violence, overly annoying stuffed purple dinosaurs who deserve the crap beat out of them and parents who dress them in cutesy outfits. But, in my humble opinion, the word scrotum is NOT shocking. The author, who is a librarian, too is outraged that a library would take the role of censor. I would have agreed with her on that one. I mean seriously. The parent should be the one who decides what is appropriate for his/her little Johnny or Suzie to read and not a frickin librarian. Catcher in the Rye anyone?

What the hell is so wrong with the word scrotum? Do these kids not have health class? Do they not have science class? Things like this are why in my mid 30s, I still use the word whoowhoo for a vagina.

It is official...

You didn't really think I would pass this one up did you?!?!

Note: Um Hillary, I will vote for you, but I am thinking your tag line needs to be re-thought - " I am in. And I am in to win." Would that then mean if you didn't say that specific statement, one would think that you joined the race with any other intention other than to win? "I am in. And I am in to just shake up the field and not really to win, but really just to sort of make everyone think about it..maybe." Sorry..don't mean to be disrespectful to ya sister, but I am thinking your marketing people should really hit the drawing board again...

With the above being said, should she win, she would be the first woman to serve as president of the United States -- and the first presidential spouse to do so as well.

Potentially Ultimate Evil Villan! Rock ON!

Oh Holy hell..Another of those online personality tests. This is what I get for reading John's blog...DAMN HIM!!!

Busy Body- ENFJ 66% Extraversion, 53% Intuition, 26% Thinking, 60% Judging

You manipulative busybody! You're what some might call the "backseat driver" of life. You know, the one who knows exactly what everyone else is doing wrong and how they should go about fixing it. You're always trying to change everyone else. The strange thing is, you can generally get whoever you want, to do whatever you want. What's that? You want me to stop insulting you...well, alright...but only because you asked so nic...WAIT A MINUTE! Stop sticking your cumbersome nose where it aint't wanted. You're like an oversized sniffer dog, trained to sniff out everyone else's problems, yet oblivious to your own. For one you worry excessively. The fact that you're also incredibly sensitive to criticism probably has you on the verge of tears right now. Get a grip. You have powers of manipulation unlike any other. You know all the gossip and you know how to ultimately use it as blackmailing material. You could potentially be the ultimate evil villain... if not for the fact you choose to use all of your powers for good, rather than evil. How honourable. How admirable and praiseworthy. How pathetic. While you're helping others out and pushing them into the limelight, you're left in the background to inhale the dirty smoke of their success. Nice one. *****************

Step Right up to the Eating Disorder Workshop!

So I was reading the news today (surprise surprise) and I saw an article about my home State that set me right the BLEEP off. This article describes how all the children in the school were examined and screened for their body mass index and a letter was sent home with about half of the students to their parents warning of that the child was either “at risk of becoming overweight” or underweight - a new state law requires a school notify the parents of children who are over- or underweight or who may be at risk of becoming so. There was one girl who is 4 feet tall and 66lbs and she got sent home with a note to her mom warning that she was a risk of becoming overweight!

WHAT THE FUCK!?!?!?! This poor kid has now had her ego and body image slammed by the very people who are supposed to be protecting her. Don’t even think of saying “They are protecting her from having health issues in the future” That is bullshit! This is a young child who not only gets bombarded every day with images of models and celebrities through magazines that promote being rail thin and a stick but also hasn’t even hit puberty yet!!! . What the hell are they thinking they are accomplishing? Promoting healthy eating? NOT. They are damaging the body image and self esteem of a young girl because her BMI isn’t in line with the scale they are using. What if a kid is an athlete? BMI levels can be significantly higher in athletes because of increased muscle mass from the sports they practice. I am not for having obese children at all. Obesity leads to severe health complications and we all know this. But this is going too far. This child’s overall health and health care is the responsibility of her, her parents and her doctor NOT the schools. Change the foods in the school systems to be healthier? SURE! Require kids to take physical education classes? SURE! Require children to take health classes? SURE! But don’t send her home with a note that basically says that even though she has not hit puberty, is an athlete and very active she is still in danger of being overweight; it is just creating damage to her psyche and self image at an age where kids are already being judged by what clothes they wear, what type of sneakers they have, their hair style and also being with inundated by images of Nicole freakin Richie and her emaciated form, or Kate Hudson, Kate Moss..The list goes on and on.

Jesus! They might just as well start an ad campaign:

“Step right up little Suzie to your very own eating disorder! Take your pick, we have them all! Over-eating – to “medicate” that bruised ego you have and foster self loathing, or Anorexia – to be sure you fit in the latest size -456 jeans that all the best celebs are wearing – Bulimia – why control what you eat? Eat all you can and don’t gain wait by simply purging your system of those pesky calories! Forget having a healthy balanced diet to include fish, veggies and low sugar intakes, just let your self image go down the drain with our easy system!”

What is next? “Okay Suzie, you need to take this note home to your parents. There has to be something done about those glasses you wear. This scale we have says that children your age should have perfect vision. You don’t want to grow up to not be the perfect image of what media says. Your parents need to get you some lasik eye surgery.” Or “Okay Suzie, you have brown hair and blue eyes, but our chart here says that children in our school system should have blonde hair and blue eyes. You are in danger of not fitting in, so please bring this note to your parents to have your hair dyed so you better fit into our image of what a child should look like.”

ARRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

John Made me do it

My Peculiar Aristocratic Title is: Her Excellency Stephanie the Confused of Studley Roger Get your Peculiar Aristocratic Title

Right..so I blame John Eddy for this... I was perusing his blog and had to find out what my Peculiar Aristocratic Title would be because of this site he mentions. Everyone else gets really creative names from this stupid place and ya know what??? Mine SUCKS! Wanna know why? Cause it is oddly TRUE damn it! I am:

1.) Excellent
2.) Regularly Confused
and
3.) My frickin father's name IS Roger!

How pathetic am I?

Laziness and stuff

There are no exuses offered for going 6 weeks without a post. I figure I am more active than K or D (can anyone say 7 months?). The only thing that has kept me from posting has been pure slovenly procrastination and a definite lack of any witty comments or insights. I called Sug over the holiday to wish her a Merrry Christmas, talked to the family, had Mutsi over for the 24th etc. Christmas was Christmas. A bit less enjoyable than it should have been due to a bit of a dark depression I was in. As previously posted, we were supposed to be in Boston for Turkey Day and I had gotten my psyche all set for seeing my folks for that holiday. We were also supposed to tack on the trip to Vegas for K’s 40th during that trip as well. Unfortunately, the budget and available holiday time threw a monkey wrench into that plan. So there goes my mood…down down down to the depths of “Holiday’s suck.” I suppose my bad attitude toward work didn’t help either...

Anywho, I am coming through to the otherside of a difficult holiday season. I suppose it is time to being posting again. I have been traveling a bit for work and doing more consulting lately than anything. It is good change from what I was doing. I think I was beginning to suffer from burnout. Not a pretty picture. Not to mention I passed my 3 year mark of living in Finland (3rd of December). This year I can apply for citizenship and am gonna :)

I was thinking I would not make any political comments on this post..but I have to. I wouldn’t be me if I didn’t. So there is this Repbulican Congressman from Virginia named Virgil Goode who wrote a letter slamming the Quran and Muslims. Here are some of the quotes from this letter demanding an immigration overhaul:
“..there will be many more Muslims elected to office demanding the use of the Quran," ;
“..we will have many more Muslims in the United States” ;
“The Muslim representative from Minnesota was elected by the voters of that district and if American citizens don't wake up and adopt the Virgil Goode position on immigration there will likely be many more Muslims elected to office and demanding the use of the Quran.”

And my personal favorite:

“The Ten Commandments and 'In God We Trust' are on the wall in my office. A Muslim student came by the office and asked why I did not have anything on my wall about the Quran. My response was clear, As long as I have the honor of representing the citizens of the 5th District of Virginia in the United States House of Representatives; the Quran is not going to be on the wall of my office.”

Now, this guy’s name is Virgil – and there are way too many redneck jokes I could make about that, but I am just not giving into the temptation. Virgil can be attributed to the Latin word virga which means “wand” or “staff”.Again so many phallic jokes and too little time. It is people like this thick as a brick chicken head that make my blood boil. Here is a guy who wrote this letter in response to the Minnesota Rep. Keith Ellison’s request to use a quran in his swearing-in ceremony and not the bible. Goode is a moron. The good people of Minnesota duly elected him to represent them in Congress and knew he was a Muslim when they did it. Not only does he want to use a quran, but he wanted to use Thomas Jefferson’s quran. Here is a representative of of Minnesota requesting to use a holy book owned by one of the founding fathers of the US and Goode is turning it into a fight and something islamaphobic (nice word that one). Just another example of religious intolerance in the US. I am surprised Mr. Goode didn’t go another step further and make an issue about Mr. Ellison being black.

grrrrrrrrrr

Turkey Day!!!

So today is the 23rd of November. Today, in the States, one of my favorite holidays is celebrated. There is none of that having to by presents bullshit, just family getting together to watch the Macy's Parade, eat a fabulous meal, gorge on desserts and fall asleep to the football game on the T.V. In the United States, certain kinds of food are traditionally served at Thanksgiving meals. First and foremost, turkey is usually the featured item on any Thanksgiving feast table (so much so that Thanksgiving is sometimes referred to as “Turkey Day”). Stuffing, cranberry sauce, sweet potatoes, corn, green beans and random other fall veggies...as well as pumpkin pie are part of the tradition. I personally will eat a piece of Pumpkin Pie and then a piece of custard pie. YUMMY!!!

The actual tradition of Thanksgiving comes from the meal held in 1621 in Plymouth Massachusetts with the Wampanoag. The Pilgrims were thankful to Squanto, a aboriginal, who taught them to grow corn, catch eel and was an interpreter for them (he learned English on a trip to Europe.) Without his help, the Pilgrims would probably not have survived the harsh winter in the colony. So they set apart a day to celebrate after their first harvest in Plymouth in 1621. Harvest festivals (what the US calls Thanksgiving) was already a part of English and Wampanoag tradition anyway so Thanksgiving is not strictly a US thing :) A " true" Thansgiving celebration was not really held until 1623 after a really harsh growing season - there was a drought..and then prayers for rain and an rain shower. Sooooo..it became a way of saying Thanks to the big Kahuna upstairs for getting them through. Anywho, President Washington delcared (after a recommendation by both Houses of Congress) that the first National Thanksgiving Day was November 26, 1789. It was then declared by presidents after him, but there was no official day yet. Since 1863, Thanksgiving has been observed annually in the United States. And incase you cared: In 1939, President Franklin D. Roosevelt declared that Thanksgiving would be the next-to-last Thursday of November rather than the last. So that is why Thanksgiving falls on a different date each year...but ALWAYS a Thursday.

...end of History lesson...on to my family traditions...

The men in my family, after dinner and dessert (and before the game) , would step outside no matter what the temperature and smoke a big fat cigar while debating who would win the gridiron match about to start. Friendly wagers and boasting would ensue. Meanwhile, not being partial to cigars or swaggering/boasting about sports, I would relax contentedly with my Grams and talk about all sorts of things. Mainly I would listen to her reminise about how it was when she was a younger (having moved from Ireland to the US as a young woman) or when she and my Gramps (may he rest in peace) were trying to feed their 7 children and relatives on the meager salary my Grandfather made working 2 jobs - postal carrier by day and supermarket stock man by night. They didn't have much, but my big Irish step-family gave thanks for their togetherness, health and the love of family. It has stayed that way in my family...and this year...well, I miss them. We may not be all blood realatives, but we are a family. They are my step family...well since forever they have been my step family, but no one uses the word "step" at all. My Grams says I am Irish (even though there isn't a drop of Irish blood running in my veins), and ya know what? If my Grams says I am Irish..then I am Irish.

My papa and I have a tradition on this day. I don't know why, but it is just my papa and me who do this in my family. There are 36 people (yes, I have a HUGE family) who all cram into the house to have dinner and be together. Aunts, Uncles, Cousins, etc. As a result of this garganutan brood decending on one house, my parents usually use the ovens in both kitchens (yes we have two) to prepare 2 of the 3 giant turkeys that will be consumed (one of my many aunts brings the 3rd). When they are pulled from the ovens and set too cool a bit (can't cut a really hot turkey..the meat falls apart), my papa and I will frequently go and tear a piece of skin off and sneak it into our mouths. When the time comes for the turkey to be cut, my papa does the honours. However, we always share the first piece he cuts together. No one else. It is our little taste test...and I will really miss that this year.

So, without getting all weepy, Happy Thanksgiving!!!

Tough Choices

No, it isn't an election choice. No, it isn't an activist choice. No, it isn't a choice of what holiday to take. For those of you who don't know, I decided at 31 to get my first tatoo. I had always wanted one. I decided on a pattern and it means something to me. It wasn't a decision I took lightly (knowing that it would be on my body until I die). The design was not anything "silly" and it represents an ideal and bond that is so dear to me. The indepth explination takes too long and involves me asking a very important question of you, the reader, and then going through an entire exchange of dialogue that only 4 people can actually do properly, and they know who they are. The tattoo also represents a bond to 2 other people that were involved in the evening I actually had it done (yay Leb and Sug!), but for entirely different reasons. Some people think tattoos are nasty. Some people think they are great. I think of my tattoo as a reminder of many things. It is an homage to an ideal and commitment and it is important to me. The design is celtic to remind me that family doesn't necessarily have to be biological in my case, and complex to remind me of the complexity and beauty of life, love and relationships and that:

Friendship is Love with Wings

Anywhoo, it is on my body and in a place where you will see it if I decide to show it to you. And I don't even have to compromise my virtues by showing it to anyone. I knew after I got it that I wanted another one.

So now to the choices...what to get and where to put it......

Happy Thursday

Okay..so I get the news a bit later here (time difference and I have to sleep SOMETIME). I was biting my nails all day yesterday with Senate controll hanging in the balance. Woke up this morning tired and cranky..and then I read the news. I am a happy woman right now.

Some history making things as a result of this election:

• 1st Female Speaker of the House in US history: go kick some ass Pelosi




• 1st Congressman of Muslim faith: Rock on Minnesota's Keith Ellison




• 1st Socialist Senator: Vermont's Bernie Sanders and he is an Independent!!




• 1st record number of female Senators: 16!!!!




• 1st Black Governor of Massachusetts in its 218 year history: Deval Patrick - a man who ran a campaign that refused to run smear ads or use dirty tactics




• All 6 female Senators up for re-election WON

On a happy note as well... Adios to Donald Rumsfeld.

All of this jumping up and down on my part is my intial reaction to the election. Going forward now I just hope the Dems and Independents can actually get some stuff done without looking like mean winners. What the Democratic Party does now will greatly influence the 2008 elections. Let's just hope the Dems accomplish something or at least try to accomplish something..

One word..

HOTTIE!!




Even if you didn't like her music, the experience you got at her concert in Helsinki on the 30th was fucking insane. I think I wanna marry her....

How many cases?!

Sometimes it is difficult to live in Finland. I try and I try to learn to speak Finnish and when I speak I always make mistakes. Yeah yeah, I know I should be patient (I have only lived in Finland for 3 years) but it is frustrating as hell! My Finnish class started in September (again) and my brain feels like it wants to ooze out my ears. Seriously, stab me in the eye with a rusty dull spoon and gouge it out – it would be less painful! And for those of you Finns who read this, don’t you dare tell me that if the 4 year old of your former-university-roommate’s-brother’s-cousin’s-34 IQ-point-having-moron can speak it quite fluently, it can’t be that hard! It is! And no freakin PhD who wrote an article in the local paper saying that it isn’t that hard will convince me otherwise! “15 declinations of a Finnish noun” isn’t hard? MY ASS it isn’t!!!! “Oh, but our language is logical.” BITE ME! It is NOT. It is NOT logical to remove letters from some words and then ADD ones that never existed to the MIDDLE of the word so that it “sounds” better! Or, if there are an indeterminate number of items in a group you have a whole new case for that frickin word!!!! Jesus my brain hurts! Make the mean language stop Mommy! WAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!

I can’t believe I even passed the National Profficiency Exam! Talk about making my head spin and my eyes bleed!

Can anyone tell that I have encountered one of those barriers in my learning where it doesn’t make any sense and I am willing to opt for brain surgery so it will make sense before it drives me any more insane than I already am? I am told the key is to drink heavily and it will eventually sort of “click”.


*Note: The Author, even though she is in need of her medication, actually speaks (according to several credible sources – including her Finnish professor) fairly fluent Finnish with an very acceptable accent. Said author is well aware of the perceived “illogical” structure of the English language. She also has the same reaction some Finnish speaking readers are having presently whenever someone feels the need to remind her if the “illogical” structure of English: “Well, the 4 year old of my former-university-roommate’s-brother’s-cousin’s-34 IQ-point-having-moron can speak it quite fluently.” Which translated means: Shut the fuck up and quit whining you pansy assed moron.

**Another Note: In all seriousness, I really do like the Finnish language. So all of you Finns who were about drag me for a trip behind the wood shed can just calm the heck down over there. If I didn’t like the language, I wouldn’t have spent so much effort learning it for the sole purpose of making less of an ass of myself than I normally do. Well that and I am incredibly juvenile and learning new curse words in several languages can be fun.

Being heard

Some Finns ask me why I am really anxious to obtain my Finnish Citizenship. The answer is simply 4 words: My right to Vote. I am an avid believer in voting. The first major election I voted in was the 1992 election of President William Jefferson Clinton. I voted for him then AND in the next election. I would vote for him again if I could. (damn you FDR!! and the 22nd amendment!)

Often I hear people lamenting about the politicians in power or the state of the laws - both in the US and in Finland. When I ask people why they don't do anything about it a great deal of the time the response is that politicians are always crooked so there is nothing they can do about it.

My answer to that: Ignorant. Some accuse me of being an idealist or unrealistic in these issues. Why? Who says that 1 person can not make a difference in this world. If you don't like the way your government is run, put someone in there who WILL make a difference in your life or who you believe WILL act in the causes that you hold dear. If you don't vote then you don't have a right to complain. If you don't exercise your duty to have your voice heard then you relinquish your right to bitch and moan about the state of the state. Even if your "guy" didn't make it, you at least voted and can now and with full righteous indignation say that in your opinion your guy would have done better. Or if the politician you did vote for is NOT doing his/her job you can vote them out of office by voting for someone else who you think WILL get the job done. Be active in your community and fight for what you believe in.

This is why I can't wait to have my Finnish Citizenship! I still retain my US citizenship, and yes I still vote. Granted I am only able to vote in the Presidential Elections due to my residency in Finland, but hey..at least I get to vote! Unfortunately I discovered yesterday that it will take about 18 months to process my citizenship application..and I can't even submit it until Dec of 2007!...UGH... At least in 2008 I get to vote... And this is what I hope for:

Just amused me

DANGEROUS: Whats for Dinner?
SAFER: Can I help you with dinner?
SAFEST:Where would you like to go for dinner?
ULTRA SAFE:Here, have some wine.

DANGEROUS:Are you wearing that?
SAFER:Wow, you sure look good in brown!
SAFEST:WOW! Look at you!
ULTRA SAFE:Here, have some wine

DANGEROUS:What are you so worked up about?
SAFER:Could we be overreacting?
SAFEST:Here's my paycheck.
ULTRA SAFE:Here, have some wine.

DANGEROUS:Should you be eating that?
SAFER:You know, there are a lot of apples left.
SAFEST:Can I get you a piece of chocolate with that?
ULTRA SAFE:Here, have some wine.

DANGEROUS:What did you DO all day?
SAFER:I hope you didn't over-do it today.
SAFEST:I've always loved you in that robe!
ULTRA SAFE:Here, have some more wine.

13 Things PMS Stands For:
1 Pass My Shotgun
2 Psychotic Mood Shift
3 Perpetual Munching Spree
4 Puffy Mid-Section
5 People Make me Sick
6 Provide Me with Sweets
7 Pardon My Sobbing
8 Pimples May Surface
9 Pass My Sweat pants
10. Pissy Mood Syndrome
11. Plainly; Men Suck
12. Pack My Stuffand

my favorite one
13. Potential Murder Suspect

mmm Bacon

Okay..random thought today. After spending a weekend in London and seeing the great Sir Derek Jacobi on stage, I have been obsessed with actors and actresses this week. Okay I know that truly great females in that profession should be called actors too, so don't get your knickers in a twist. Recently I stumbled across a website that has detailed information about a film which I love. This film is Funny Girl. Reason being - aside from the fact that it is Ms. Streisand, my uncle Lee Allen (dad's brother) was in the broadway production and film with her. On that website I found images of my uncle from scenes that were deleted from the final film. I also found one of the promotional photographs that they took together (I have a copy of that ..yes ..signed) It got me to thinking.. about Kevin Bacon... and how many degrees of Kevin Bacon my uncle is...

Lee Allen was in Funny Girl(1968) with Barbra Streisand.
Barbra Streisand was in Nuts (1987) with Eli Wallach
Eli Wallach was in Mystic River (2003) with Kevin Bacon
Answer: 3
So that makes little old ME only 4 degrees of Kevin Bacon!

Oh..and did I mention my Aunt Olivia (his wife) was on the cover of life in 1948?



Incase you cared - This is Uncle Lee with Babs..




It's the small joys of life :)

Poor Steve and David...oh wait..that is Derek

It’s the little things. The artery clogging little things that make me smile. Just spent a weekend in London with Sug. Arteries are hardened a bit, liver is recovering and my wallet is bare. Note to self: Make sure you have more money than you think you need the next time you go to London. We laughed our arses off. I would have to say that the funniest part of the weekend occurred 15 minutes into our time together. I had arrived at the hotel before Sug (her train was an hour late) and left a note at the check-in desk that I was (surprise surprise) in the bar. I had had just enough time to order a beer, put down my bag and try to get relaxed from my planes, trains and automobiles journey when I heard the unmistakeable sound of an American accent in the corner of the bar. The hotel was a 4 or 5 star hotel that Sug got on the cheap and the hotel bar was one of those giant ceilinged rooms with the mahogany walls and leather sofas. You know, the kind of place that oozes history and posh. The woman in the corner was yelling loudly into her mobile to one of her collegues (Steve) that she didn’t do this and he was responsible for that yadda yadda yadda. I mean LOUD. Loud enough that when Sug arrived and we did the hug hello, I needed to DOWN my beer. Seriously. Sug told me not to worry – having not heard the woman because Steve had obviously gotten a word in edgewise for a minute. Suddenly Beth’s face just froze and her eyes got wide. We started laughing. It only got worse. So, we decided to drop our bags off in the room and head out to have some libations and nosh before Ethel Merman in the corner made our ears bleed. As we were standing and leaving the bar, Beth turns to the woman and says quite directly: “If I were Steve, I would kill myself.” - I almost peed myself laughing. Why is it that the loudest and most discourtious people in bars here in Europe are Americans?!?!?! Those people foster the idea that the rest of us are just like them! This woman was unbelievable!

So we ate at the Tattershall Castle (barge pub and restaurant) on the Enbankment, had big fry-ups for breakfast, visited the British Museum and went to a West End show (Thanks again Sug for buying my ticket). Of course, I kept calling Sir Derek Jacobi by the wrong name (David) and thought Sug was going to have apoplexy thinking I would call him the wrong name – after I made us go to the Stage Door (even though I kept saying it was her idea ;) ) so we could get a photo or an autograph. I promised (and kept that promise) I would not call him David. I called him Sir. He was very sweet to pose for a photo with each of us. The show was quite well written as well! It was fabulous to see such an accomplished artist on stage. We also had awesome Cream Tea in the crypt of St. Martin of the Fields – yum! The weather was entirely tolerable – rain in the day but clear in the late afternoons and evenings. All in all a great weekend.

And people wonder why..

Some people wonder why I say I have no intention of moving back to the States any time soon. I get asked often here if I am living in Finland for the long haul or is it just a short term thing and then back to the land of cheap electronics, lower taxes and higher salaries. I contemplate it sometimes…but then I read things like this:

(courtesy of MSNBC.com and Reuters)
“Accused of killing deputy, suspect shot 68 times
‘We would have shot him more,’ sheriff says of SWAT team’s actions

MIAMI - A fugitive gunman accused of killing a Florida sheriff’s deputy was shot 68 times by SWAT team officers who found him hiding in the woods, according to autopsy results.
Police fired 110 shots at Angilo Freeland, 27, the target of a massive manhunt in central Florida following the shooting death of Polk County Sheriff’s Deputy Matt Williams Thursday.
“That’s all the bullets we had, or we would have shot him more,” Polk County Sheriff Grady Judd told the Orlando Sentinel newspaper….
…. Sheriff’s officials said SWAT team members found Freeland on Friday hiding under a fallen oak tree in a wooded area near where the deputies were shot, and began firing when they saw a gun in his hand.”

110 BULLETS!!! 68 of them found their mark. I am all for protecting yourself against a gun wielding person, but 110 bullets at this guy?! So much for ever having a fair trial

OH..and then this little gem:
(courtesy of MSNBC.com and the AP)

FBI examining Foley e-mail exchanges
Congressman sent explicit messages to underage male pages
“..Foley, R-Fla., quit Congress on Friday after the disclosure of the e-mails he sent to a former congressional page and sexually suggestive instant messages he sent to other high school pages…
…Senate Democratic Leader Harry Reid of Nevada called the Foley case “repugnant, but equally as bad is the possibility that Republican leaders in the House of Representatives knew there was a problem and ignored it to preserve a congressional seat this election year.”
Reid said the case should be handled outside Congress.
“Under laws that Congressman Foley helped write, soliciting sex from a minor online is a federal crime,” Reid said. “The alleged crimes here are far outside the scope of any congressional committee, and the attorney general should open a full-scale investigation immediately.”……”

Family Values party by backside! And this slimebag helped write a law making soliciting sex from a minor on-line a federal crime!!

Klutz...

Right. It is so hard to be cool when you are a klutz like me. Mira's mom is coming over tomorrow evening and we are all going out to dinner. BUT, for those of you who know me, you know that I clean like a demon when people are coming over. I will ask Hale, for instance, to please excuse the mess when there is a magazine on the table or something...

Monday we play squash. Tuesday I have my Finnish class until almost 8. Last night Mira had a work dinner thingie (which I ended up at the afterparty and stayed out way too late and am paying the price for it today). Tonight I have Finnish class again and tomorrow Mira's mom comes over. Soooo, Mira and I had an agreement. I would do some of the cleaning last night and she would finish up tonight. She does the stuff I hate.

I will preface this with saying that this morning Mira told me that the apartment looked "perfect" :) I even moved all the funiture and vacuumed the skirting boards so that the dust bunnies wouldn't reform in under 2 days. All the while Tom Jones is blaring out of our sound system. Gotta have either Tom or Melissa when I clean... Anywho..I was standing in the wc and was starting to organize the cabinet in there. I noticed something on the floor so I bent down to pick it up. When I raised my head, I had in 2 seconds forgotten that I had left the cabinet door open (which is a mirror door..all glass). SLAM! Nice deep gash in my forehead! Blood everywhere. Now I look like Harry Frickin Potter!

I told people at work I got in a gang fight... Me and Harry...kickin' it Suomi style..

Drugs Drugs Drugs

So I went to the Doctor yesterday. It is a new doctor. My company changed healthcare services so now we have a better choice of healthcenters to go to. All private, all really nice. I opted for the one on Keskuskatu, which is a short bus or tram or metro ride from my house. My new doctor is awesome. She is professional, and also very easy going which makes it much easier to ask all those questions you have but put off asking cause the doc gives you the willies in one way or another. What surprised me was that when she opened the door and called my name, she said it PROPERLY! What a shocker! Turns out the woman speaks French, Portuguese, Spanish, Italian, English and Finnish! She also looks like she is 15. Which is oddly disturbing in a way.

Anywho..She told me after listening to my lungs, checking my sinuses, ears, and throat that I have: keuhkoputkentulehdus - which is finnish for: Bronchitis. She also says that I was really close to a nasty ear infection too. She armed me with 5 prescriptions (antibiotics, non-narcotic pain relievers, an antihisthamine that has a decongegstant in it, a thing to protect my tummy lining from all these meds, and a cough syrup that has codine). So..I take 2 pills twice a day, 1 pill 3 times a day, 1 pill once a day and a good hard swig of codine laced goodness (except for the salmiakki taste it has - ick!) at bedtime. Talk about feeling like a lab rat! At least I don't have an inhaler! K (and also my Doc) pointed out that maybe this is a sign to kick the smoking thing..since I keep getting respiratory infections. Not that smoking causes them, but it doesn't help any. The Doc was also wants me to have all of my records of the 43936246 tests I had last year forwarded to them . I signed the consent form the minute I left her. She wants to take a good hard look at them and stuff. Joy of joys..I get to have my 1st mamogram... Now I am all for the screening. I am all for women getting one early and yearly. I would rather know I am fine than just assume it...but part of me is a bit scared of it. The booby fairy was generous to me so I am not relishing the idea of my breast being flattened like a pancake..


Aside from only being out of the house to get food for the fridge (all of 5 mintues) and the Doc, I was stuck in the house for almost 5 days staring at the same 4 walls. Now, don't get me wrong - being home on the sofa can be waaay relaxing. But when you feel like crap it isn't so much on the relaxing part. Not to mention I have been dealing with work emails and calls from a Service Manager asking if I would help a junior member of our department when I am back at work...

Just sayin...

Bridezilla

Right. Friday we met some friends for a few libations and ended up going home early. The Finn had had a few with a work mate before we met Hale and Pia at Nalle for a few more. By 10, we were leaving and getting our butts home (Hale and Pia know why). Anyway..initially I felt quite tired on Friday and sort of achey. Woke up on Saturday with a congested chest that I figured was due to the copious amounts of cigarette smoke in the bar and my lungs (really do need to kick that habit)... Saturday evening we attended the 30th birthday party of one of Mira's old schoolmates. Towards about 10, I started to really not feel so well... Fast forward to Sunday and a full blown chest and head cold has lodged itself firmly in my system. Monday - did anyone get the number of that truck that ran me over? Today - I think it came around for a second go at me. I went to bed last night feeling better than when I woke up that morning..and now it feels worse?!?! WTF?!?!?!

On a happy note, I randomly signed into AOL IM at 9 something this morning and my SUG was on line (thanks to the time diff). Got to chat with the Sugsta for a good 30 mintues before she had to take herself off to sleepy land. We discovered today (last night for her), after thinking about it, I have known her for almost 15 years. She has been my best friend for quite a while. In ALL of the years that we have known each other, we have NEVER had an argument. Freaky. Of course, then we went on to discuss how long it has been since I moved and stuff and we sort of began to get weepy and crap. We put a stop to that right there! None of that shit thanks! She also told me that I have to grab the Finn and move the hell back to the US (Cali perferably). She said something about my little Portuguese/French blood not being able to handle the weather here or somethin. Funnily enough, we both come from Boston - can you say very very similar climate? I knew you could.

Sadly, moving to the US isn't in the cards right now. Silly little things like..um..a green card, jobs, money. Piddly I know, but still. Besides, SUG should move to Finland! I am sure she and her hubby would LOVE the tropical climate, low taxes and high wages.

I get to hang with Sug in London in a few weeks (for a few days), so that is good. She is going to visit her family in the Midlands. She actually did try to see about a side trip to Suomi, but unfortunately it would have more than doubled the cost of just her plane tickets. It is far mor economical for me to hop down to London. Cream tea here we come - not to mention copious amounts of alcohol and laughter...

Question: If there was a bridezilla in a horror/suspense movie - you know, the character you really WANT to see get added to the death toll in a right nasty fashion - what way would it be most satisfying for her to die? - Tower falling on her, eaten alive by cockroaches from hell...sawed in half by the caterer???.... Just sayin

Lovely

Facts (thanks Amanda):

If you yelled for 8 years, 7 months and 6 days you would have produced enough sound energy to heat one cup of coffee.
(Hardly seems worth it.)

If you farted consistently for 6 years and 9 months, enough gas is produced to create the energy of an atomic bomb.
(Now that's more like it!)

The human heart creates enough pressure when it pumps out to the body to squirt blood 30 feet.
(O.M.G.!)

A pig's orgasm lasts 30 minutes.
(In my next life, I want to be a pig.)

A cockroach will live nine days without its head before it starves to death. (Creepy.)
(I'm still not over the pig.)

Banging your head against a wall uses 150 calories a hour
(Don't try this at home,maybe at work)

The male praying mantis cannot copulate while its head is attached to its body. The female initiates sex by ripping the male's head off.
("Honey, I'm home. What the....?!")

A turtle can breath out of its bum!

The flea can jump 350 times its body length. It's like a human jumping the length of a football field.
(30 minutes..lucky pig! Can you imagine?)

The catfish has over 27,000 taste buds.
(What could be so tasty on the bottom of a pond?)

Some lions mate over 50 times a day.
(I still want to be a pig in my next life...quality over quantity)

Butterflies taste with their feet.
(Something I always wanted to know.)

The strongest muscle in the body is the tongue.
(Hmmmmmm......)

Right-handed people live, on average, nine years longer than left-handed people.
(If you're ambidextrous, do you split the difference?)

Elephants are the only animals that cannot jump.
(okay, so that would be a good thing)

A cat's urine glows under a black light.
(I wonder who was paid to figure that out?)

An ostrich's eye is bigger than its brain.
(I know some people like that.)

Starfish have no brains
(I know some people like that too.)

Polar bears are left-handed.
(If they switch, they'll live a lot longer)

Humans and dolphins are the only species that have sex for pleasure.
(What about that pig??)

This is just...

Um...er...

Damn

What about the ones who AREN'T getting any???

(photo taken while in a queue in London)

Brimming with Pride

And the drunkest cities in America (according to Forbes)...
1.) Milwakee
2.) Minneapolis
3.) Columbus
4.) BOSTON!!!!!
5.) Austin

Not only do we have a kick ass football team and the Sox..but we are great drinkers too!!!

Something to be proud of :)

Hmmm

So my boss just offered me (at 17 last evening) the possibility of working in Copenhagen for the rest of the year. Told her I couldn't say yes without discussing it first at home. So the Finn and I had a chat..and surprisingly I got the go-ahead :) The daily tax free stipend (päivä raha) doesn't hurt. It would help us remove the remodeling loan and some debt by the end of the year...and hell it is Copenhagen!

So..our Denmark office is getting my CV today and I could be on a plane in the very short near future. It isn't definite yet, but it is 90% sure.. I guess it is a good thing I didn't buy those tickets to London from Helsinki yet. Have to do it from Copenhagen to London :)

Considering...

I am considering moving my blog to MSN spaces... Lots more possibilities for pictures and sounds and stuff... Any opinions are welcome.

I would put a link in here so that you can get to it...

Top 10 - England

10. Tripping over the sliding glass door threshold 4 times prompting Kristin to ban me entering the house from the garden via that door and relegating me to using the Garage door.
9. Getting a Krispy Kreme doughnut..in ENGLAND.
8. Scones with Clotted Cream and Jam
7. Watching both seasons of Grey’s Anatomy.. Seriously
6. Kristin takes a digger - magic
5. Breaking D’s TV ..mulitple times – damned Media Center and new fangled technology
4. Pub fish and chips at The George and getting a 30 minute “No picking on Stephanie” allowance – except K only lasted 13 minutes.
3. Having your flight cancelled because of stoopid-head terrorists and spending an additional 3 days in Blighty because BA couldn’t get us out before Monday
2. Drunk dialing your friends and telling them they love Cancer Chick more than you when they answer HER drunk dialing call and not yours
1. Getting to go back all over again in 6 weeks to have a long weekend with my Sug and lots of G & Ts

Compliments

I got the best compliment yesterday. I was told that my sense of humor (writing and observation) is not slapstick but more along the lines of a Dennis Leary :) How cool of a compliment is THAT?! I sent my very good friend Amanda (South African but with a UK passport..go figure) to the blog entry I had posted after getting over the blah's so she could read it. I would have sent SUG there first, but the time diff means she is drooling on her pillow right now. I have to say I love having friends that get the long winded joke in that blog. Why surround yourself with people who only find bathroom humor funny? I am not saying there is anything wrong with bathroom humor, but I go for more of the cerebral humor. Not the pompus kind. The dry, sarcastic kind. For example, Dennis Leary. Love his comedy. It is biting, cerebral, sarcastic, and profanity ladened without being pompus. He has worked very hard to have the “working man’s image” – chain smoking Marlboro’s, drinking tons of coffee and booze and not wearing designer labels. But when his comedy is analyzed, it is entirely NOT bathroom humor. What makes him enjoyable to all the regular joes out there is the fact that he presents himself as the same kind of hardworking construction shmuck as the next guy but with an axe to grind. If you have never heard the song “Asshole” by him, you MUST listen to it. So, I am quite honored to have been told I have a similar humor to him.

That sucking sound you just heard was the air being sucked out of the room to allow space for my ego :)

Monkeys

Was on my way home from a bar (surprise) and decided that I would try again to contact the other side of my brain – Sug. Miracle of miracles, she finally answered her phone and wasn’t in a meeting from hell. Little did I know the reason behind that availability was that her job had been outsourced on Monday morning and here it was Tuesday afternoon in California. She was out driving around doing errands in the Durango. I have not laughed that hard during a conversation in a while. Totally owe the Sugsta for kick starting my creativity again. We were discussing senses of humor and shiznit and I was whining about how I had this HUGE burst of creativity on Friday Night/Saturday Morning. Was laying on my bed hugging a pillow after a few drinks out (surprise surprise) while the Finnish midget was emailing her friend and I began to talk to myself. This, the random statements not the boozing, is not a surprise for those people who know me well. Random thoughts issue forth from my gob at the most inopertune times. I usually blame it on Terrets, which I don’t have, but people don’t know that so they have to go around being all politically correct to me – ‘cause you don’t want to upset the person with a disease right?.. Anyway, I am laying there drunk, and wow my brain starts firing out all these things that are “pathetic”..I was on a roll people. I was making MYSELF laugh audibly and I figured GREAT. I jump up, run to the living room and grab my trusty laptop. Race back to my bed, get myself all situated with the pillows in the right place (comfort is usually conducive to writing for me) and ya know what happens? NOTHING. The entire rant that I had come up with was gone. Poof. Off to see the Aether Bunny without so much as note saying “Ciao, and don’t forget to turn of the iron!”. So now only snipits of that world class observation on the human condition remain. Sug suggested I grab one of those digital voice recorders so I can record what I want when it happens. She goes on to tell me that the creative process that we have in common is a right brain-left brain thing. If this is true, and she is the other side of my brain, then that bizatch has been stealing my ideas! Damn you Sug! I always knew I was the driving creative force in this duo. Sort of like the Wonder Twins, but our power is biting sarcastic and cerebral humor – without the monkey. Although having a monkey could be cool. I digress.

The rant “Pathetic” is gone forever, which is sad, but I still think that Sug helped me get out of my creative funk by relinquishing control of the creative part of my brain back to me. See, she may be this really great screen writer, but I am the one with random stuff issuing forth from my piehole which induces side splitting laughter. Okay, it is only splitting my own side, but that is what counts. I don’t care what makes other people laugh. I just like to pontificate (word of the day) on politics, religion, small monkeys, cheese, Belgium, etc, all to hear my own laughter. ‘Cause isn’t that what it’s really about? Amusing yourself at someone else’s expense? Come on folks, don’t you dare sit there and tell me you have never, or never had the desire to laugh out right at someone else’s stupid behavior, deformity, intelligence level, yadda yadda. If you try to say: “Oh, no! I would never do something like that.”, you are liar. Worse, you are BAD liar. If you are gonna lie, at least be good at it people. I find nothing wrong with pointing and laughing at stupid people. It is what makes life worth living sometimes. Seriously, human beings are so incredibly stupid sometimes it is not surprising how close we are in DNA to a frickin chimp. See..it all comes back to the monkey.

Brain Dead

I have no idea what is up with me lately. I am completely brain dead. More so than usual. I have not a spark of creativity in me. Could it be that work is just mind numbing lately? Could it be that I can't wait for my next holiday time to start (24th of July) and am looking forward to the 3 weeks I will have to myself.

I am just blah.

Independence Day

Happy 4th to all my fellow US Citizens! Roll out the BBQ, Beer and Fireworks!

Ahhhh

Been up to my eyes at work and was on a happy holiday in the sunny Algarve. No joke. 35 degrees Celsius, shining sun and a slight breeze. Now, I am normally not one to complain about heat. I am a sun baby and I love being out in it. However, this was some seriously hot sun folks. I felt like my Portuguese butt was being roasted, an apple was about to be shoved in my mouth and I would be served up at the next bbq. Seriously baking :) Just the way I like it.

The trip was great. We drank quite a bit of wine and lazed about in the sun most days. Naps are essential to a good day. Mmmmm naps.

Interestingly, there were less Portuguese people there than one would suspect. I realized it was quite a tourist area (although we were lucky enough to have a villa outside of Albufeira so we avoided most of the crunch), however, I really had forgotten exactly how many English and German people invaded. Holy Hell! Anyone for a proper fry up? EVERY restaurant has a “proper English breakfast” and some have the American version. Tons of English dishes to be had at the restaurants. Now, correct me if I am wrong, but wasn’t I in PORTUGAL? Why the hell would someone (English) want to have their (English) dishes they can get at any old (English) pub? Isn’t the point to experience and enjoy the “native” food? It isn’t like there is a derth of choices in Portugal for food – rabbit, beef, pork, chicken, fish (about a zillion types), shell fish, pasta, baked goods (mmmm yum) all made with actual herbs and spices unlike SOME (English) food. And before Sug starts goin on a rant about fought over real estate being valuable real estate (extra points if anyone besides Beth gets that reference), ackadak languages, Her Majesty’s Empire and cheap help, I would like to point out that Portuguese food is some seriously good eatin. Unlike the boil it till it’s grey mentatlity one experiences..ahem..elswhere.

I am already missing the herbs and spices used there. Not to be mean to Finland, but..to my Finnish brothas and sistahs..there are more spices than just pepper, salt, and crappy chili powder that has no kick. There is nothing like a garlic ladened proper FULL meat and fat sausage (mmmmmm Portuguese churiço), or mussels in a cataplana, or spit roasted picanha (wikipedia explination for you non portuguese food savy types..Oh and Beth..in case you wanna try it: Picanha Churrascaria – 269 E. Palm Ave in Burbank). Now, before you get your panties in a bunch..I know it is a Brazillian way of making the food. HOWEVER, Brazil was discovered by the Portuguese in 1500 (Pedro Álvares Cabral)- pay no attention to the indigenous people folks – they didn’t have a flag and even Beth knows what happens when you don’t have a flag. So, Brazilian food is Portuguese food. And I am also the queen of the universe. Don’t tempt me to smite you.

I should say this though. God love the English, and Germans for bringing a decent beer to the Algarve. I can’t STAND the piss they try to pass off as beer! We drank (not including those bottles at restaurants) 35 bottles of wine during the week. By Friday, I was so jonesin for a beer it wasn’t even funny. I was NOT going to dring Sagres and the “Super Bock” concoction they try to pass off as beer makes me wanna hurl. All hale the E.S.B! Oh and I can’t leave out the Irish..:Guiness is the nectar of the gods.

All in all it was a great trip…we left there with 1 more large suitcase than we arrived with. We have priorities here..had to have space for the wine and Cachaça. I won’t bore you with the details of how brown I am or how rested I became. Love Portugal..land of my heart..

Vroom vroom vroom

Reacap: Motorcycle gathering was pretty damned good. Cold as $h!t in the tent at night though. Crowning moments: 1.) 4 ladies packed evening dresses in their saddle bags and wore them on Saturday night and 2.) watching an 8 month pregnant lady riding a motorcycle. Weather was great..no rain! Not so cool item: I think I caught a cold. Either got it from my friend Tii, or from shivering my arse off in a tent..either way..don’t feel so good right now. I thought it was my allergies when I woke up this morning. Sadly, it does not appear I am that lucky.

This suxors. I am leaving for a week in Portugal (the Algarve) on Saturday morning at 08:15 with Mira, Satu and Kati. Hopefully this doesn’t linger and goes away soon. I really don’t want to be sick on my holiday..however, there is nothing I can do but medicate and rest and see what happens. My friend Amanda advocates a stiff hot toddy and a good night of rest. I may just take her up on that suggestion.

I was supposed to be sitting the exam for my ISEB Practitioner Certificate today. Project’s too crazy, so I can’t. Had my attendance moved to the next exam in the autum. On the good side it gives me more time to study. On the bad side it gives me more time to stress. I am a horrible test-taker folks. My mind goes completely blank and I freeze. I could know the material cold, but put me in an exam situation and I am a drooling idiot.

On a surprisingly maliciously happy note, my PM has to do my job when I am on vacation. Small joys.

La la la la la Jesse's Girl....

Okay, so I deluded myself yesterday. A common occurrence, but this time I hit the mother load of denial and deliberate delusion. For years my best friend has relentlessly and ruthlessly - alright not so ruthless as she is a mushball with a finely crafted illusion of toughness - serenaded me, in her fine warbling voice, with strains of "Jesse's Girl" because she seems to be under the impression that 1 photo I mistakenly showed her of me remained her of Rick - frickin-Springfield.

For years, I thought she was severely in need of medication. Okay she IS in need of medication for other various reasons, but this one was the Big Kahuna. How can one defend HERSELF when she is being told she looks like an 80's MALE soap opera star cum singer? I had nuthin. My brain seized every time she would belt out the chorus at me. My brain's ability to generate any kind of snarky response was instantaneously thwarted by the cryptonite contained in the simple words of: "You know, I wish that I had Jessie's girl. I wish that I had Jessie's girl.." It was like some sick cosmic force just clamped my mouth shut and only allowed my brain to perfom the basic -keep your body alive-functions. Our usual quick and witty banter was reduced to me being practically apoplectic and doing the thorazine shuffle all at the same time.

Well, as some of you know, I cut my hair completely off soon after moving to Finland. Beth has some long hippy flowerchild thick blonde hair (damn her!) and I had long,dark, not so thick -and liberally dusted with white (including the Cruella DeVille streak in the front) hair. Ponytails and baseball caps in the summer just to keep my body from getting overheated was a common occurance. Beth washes her hair and it takes a frickin whole day (and sometimes more) to even get REMOTELY dry. Hair to your ass has that unfortunate side effect.

So I decided recently that I would forgo the buzzer and actually let my hair grow back a bit. Call me crazy, but I sort of missed the weight of it. Anywhozywhatsit, even though I am growing it back, it is still required to visit the hairdresser to get it trimmed so that I don't end up with a photo on the mullet website. Yesterday I went. I even had most of the white dyed out but kept the DeVille streak because, frankly, it is cool and what's more I LIKE it. The hairdresser proceeds to do a fabulous job and then blow it dry all poofy like. If you know me, poofy hair on me went out in the 80's--along with the Aquanet hairspray, pegged jeans, Champion sweatshirt and penny loafers. When I looked in the mirror I just smiled. Not out of politeness, but just because I couldn't believe what I saw. I was transported back in time to when every girl wanted the Dorothy Hammel. I am not kidding. I can still remember my Dorothy Hammel skating doll. Any cracks about that folks and you will have stumps for limbs. There was NOTHING wrong with having a Dorothy Hammel doll (sort of in the tradition of the Barbie but she was on her skates and stood in this lovely stand)..

I was so impressed that I looked like her that I even emailed K and told her so. I was all about the haircut. Fastforward to this morning after taking the time to blow dry the hair and put some product in it, I promptly slammed my motorcycle helmet on my head and went to work. Remove Helmet and BAM.....LALALALALALA Jesse's Girl...... DAMN YOU SUG!! You are 10 bizillion miles and 345626 timezones away and you STILL got me to suffer apoplexy!!!

Stuff

Idiotic doctors went and punctured my aunt's colon during a routine colonoscopy..bastids. She ended up in emergency surgery to repair the additional hole they created in her bum.. Dad and Peg are driving to Maine to see her...

My namesake (cousin Stephanie) graduated from High School today... WOW do I feel old. I remember when she was born and her dad (my Dad's nephew) told me that he and his wife were naming her after me.. I was so honored.. She was an adorable baby...

Getting ready for a women's motorcycle gathering next weekend..should be fun. I also have to pack for Portugal when I return from the biker thing. Not to mention we need to paint the doors in the house the night before we leave... the strength of the odor from the paint will be too strong for us to sleep here then, so we are staying at Satu's and then all going to the airport for our 08:15 flight...yay Portugal - sun, terraces, sangria, wine shops, great food. I am being Julie the Cruise Director on this trip (K: I will try to do you proud)..and also the translator... 3 Fins and an Americanized Portuguese woman are decending upon the Algarve for a week of relaxation... We have rented a Villa from a lovely German couple and have our own private terrace and there is a giant pool and it is 10 minutes from Albufeira :) Beach restaurants and afternoon siesta..heaven on earth...

"Paying your ass blue"

That is something Hank called what you do when you lose or have your wallet stolen and have to replace everything in it... Well I didn't pay it blue..but more of an aquamarine... I had to pay the 50€ for a duplicate license, 10€ for the temporary one incase the coppers stop me while my dup is being made - I don't look like a raving lunatic axe murderer like Hank, but I didn't want the 35€ fine if they stopped me and I didn't have it - 12€ to the credit people for canceling my cards so they wouldn't be used.. A new travel card would cost 8€, and a new Kela card too..and a new travel insurance card... yaddayaddayadda

..Payed all that money to have my wallet delivered in the post... Seriously. It was found in a trash can and sent to me...with everything in it.. Mom obviously gave me some luck... including at the Roulette table... I hit twice :)

.....

The Visit...

..has come to a close. After being awake for 36 hours, and flying across multiple timezones, my mom and sister arrived in Helsinki…I will try not to rehash the whole turist portion of the visit (places and stuff), but I will give a few highlights and opinions:

- Grand Casino Dinner Show – Mom loved it and even got a photo with her and Mr. Rönning for her birthday – to which she promptly remarked as he walked away: “oooh..he smelled GOOD!!!”…He then found us in the casino 5 minutes later and gave Mom an autographed photo with his best wishes for her birthday - very classy of him…and she said he still smelled good. Note: Nina Tapio is a hottie..oh and she sings well too ;)

- Harbor Cruise – sister almost puked after I told her she had just eaten smoked reindeer – Mom laughed to hard she almost peed herself – quality.

- Porvoo – not the easiest place when you’re in a wheelchair but wonderful to see mom with powdered sugar on her cheek from eating a pastry and laughing.

- New Card Game (Riisti Seiska) – addictive to Mom and the sister…45624352 games later they still wanted to play more

- Kauppatori – kitch kitch kitch…of which my sister bought plenty…and mom none.

- Eurovision – Finland WON (hell HAS frozen over) and my Mom was proud :) I think she is secretly Finnish…

- Ratty T-shirts and ripped jeans with disgustingly dirty sneakers is NOT appropriate dinner attire for Saaga..

- Talking with your mouth full of food is gross…and when Mom tells you to stop; you should, or I will kick you.

- Priceless: Mom carrying around 6 grand because she wasn’t sure how much she was gonna need and then forcing 50 euro and 100 euro notes into my hand to help with “paying for parking” (the 3 euros I put in the parking meter was plenty thank you)...all the while my sister is jealously and greedily watching the money change hands. I had to take it even though I protested for 10 minutes that I didn’t want it..when mom says your name a specific way and gives you the “look”..you are instantly no longer in your mid 30’s..you are 12, quietly mumble “yes ma’am” and take the money.

I will admit to crying when my I wheeled my Mom to the gate at the airport and said goodbye. I will also admit to wanting to throttle my sister within an inch of her life for patronizing my mother so much it made me physically ill. Just because mom needs a wheelchair to get around does not mean she is a baby or has lost her faculties damn it. My mother is a very proud woman. She hates being a “burden” to anyone; so the mobility issues she has now which require a wheelchair is quite depressing for her. It also doesn’t help that my sister treats her like she is 2 frickin years old…GRRRRRRR I did discover where I get the ability to get quiet for periods of time and not say anything though. No jokes people..Ask Mira. Seriously, my Mom and I are able to sit together and not say anything and it not be uncomfortable…sister..not so much.
Anywho..I loved that my Mom was here and I am sad she is back in the States…she could have stayed on for a month and I would have been over the moon. Mom is so easy to please. She is quieter now than I remember, but still feisty at times. She was open to trying anything…food, place, experience..I LOVE that about her. I also love having my mom around…not so much on the sibling (in case you didn’t figure that out already).

TMI - theraputic spewing..all about me.

I am such a jerk. Sometimes I relize what I brat I am. When I moved to Finland, I was happy about not being so damned geographically close to certain members of my family. Let’s face it, I am not the easiest person to get along with occasionally. Growing up the youngest of 4 children had its advantages. For example, I bold faced lied to my mom that I did’t break my brother’s guitar: “I am too short to reach it, how could it have been me?” I was always the little one (am not the shortest anymore though). My papa called me “peanut”. Which was a shortened version of what he originally called me: “pint of peanuts” because I was so small and skinny. I had stick legs with knobby knees and skinny little arms and a flat belly. Of course, running around like a maniac didn’t hurt to keep the fat off. Oh how I wish I still had that energy.

Right, where was I…oh yeah.: So a history. I have 2 older brothers and and older sister. Mom and Dad were good Catholics and popped out us brats very very close together. There are 16 months separating my oldest brother Roger and my sister Michelle and then 16 months separating my brother William and myself. I am not trying to be a bitch here, but to be honest – Roger and I are gifted. We always have been. We both actually had the problem where we had to take advanced classes and in some cases university level courses during our pre-university schooling because we weren’t challenged enough. The geek lable came early for us folks. It isn’t something we asked for, it just was. Languages, humanities and the like come easy and in my brother’s case, he is freakishly smart with science and math. My other siblings were, unfortunately, not as gifted academically. I say unfortunately because my father and mother put a very heavy emphasis on education and in some cases they put too much pressure on us. There came a time where they finally accepted that William and Michelle were gifted in other ways, but not in the way that made school easy for them.

The pressure to succeed academically was heinous for me. My oldest brother is a certified genius. No joke. He is a freak of nature (in a good way). He thinks in levels that I am just not wired to be able to understand. As a result, Mr. Brain would come home with greater than a 4.0 average (for you Finn’s he got higher than 10’s), be captain of the debate team, in the drama club, Mensa, French National Honour Society, yadda yadda yadda. So the comparison was inevitable.

As a result of all of the pressure my brother felt (or if it is just his wiring), he is one of the most emotionally reserved people I know. He does not form emotional attachments very easily. He is a good person, but just aloof. He doesn’t call family members, shuns family gatherings, and even “forgets” to call my Dad on his birthday or Father’s Day. How much of this is active resentment I have no idea. It was as if everything was reversed. He would be praised for being so gifted and I would have pressure to step up to his level. Now I was, selfishly, reveling in his distance. I became the kid who was always there to help, at every family gathering, remembering EVERYONE’s birthdays with cards and a small gift; always THERE. It isn’t that I did these things JUST to usurp his place as Mr. Perfect. I genuinely love my family. But sometimes I would do things out of purely selfish motives and not because I really wanted to. Looking back, it doesn’t feel so good to have been that shallow.

Anyway, at some point, my selfish reasons no longer existed. I really, genuinely enjoy being there for my family. It was as I entered my late 20’s early 30’s that I really began to realize that I had sort of backed myself into a corner in some ways. As much as I truly loved seeing my Papa every other week for dinner, it became increasingly easy for certain people (my step mom) to guilt me into doing things I really didn’t want to do. It is a character weakness in myself I realize, but she is the world’s BEST at guilt trips. My happiness at seeing my Papa for dinner became a bit soured with the guilt trips I would receive if I had to cancel. It became assumed that I am the good child – where my brother didn’t call, I would call 3 times a week. Where my brother didn’t visit, I would be there twice a month. When their wedding anniversary came around (right before I moved), I was the one that planned the 200 person party – complete with the Priest that married them.

After moving, I was relieved to not have those “responsibilities” any longer. I was happy to be able to call them once a week or have them call me. The pressure (mostly self-induced but not wholely) was off. I do miss them – terribly. But the distance has been healthy for me.
Que the Guilt:

Yesterday I got an email, after my Step-Mom tried to call me twice, stating that my Dad is in the hospital with a rather dangerous infection in his leg caused by staph which entered his system somehow. It is an internal infection, so not contagious, but if not treated could have been life threatening. He loathes doctors in all forms – just like me. I learned that behaviour from him. He insisted he was fine but after a few visits to the ER, they admitted him. He is going to be OK as far as we can tell, but it still worries me. I know his infection is being treated, and that he is getting great care, but I am afraid he won’t follow the Dr’s instructions. I called him immediately in his hospital room when Peggy sent me the email and told him he would do anything to get out of work! He laughed and I almost cried. I really love my Papa’s laugh. It is deep and from his belly. The kind of laugh that wraps around me and makes me feel safe. He is required to be off his leg for 2 weeks. The Dr told him and he said to me: “I am think it is a bit extreme for me to be out of work for 2 weeks.” ---let’s just hope he doesn’t end up back in the hospital…

I feel so damned guilty for not being there and am worried about my Papa. I am the only child that calls regularly and that really takes an active interest in their lives. It makes me so sad that their other children are just checked out.

…right enough whining

Karma

I don't know if I killed a nun or kicked a puppy in a former life, however, if there is such a thing as Karma, it just bit me in my abundant gluteus maximus. Yesterday was the day from hell. Not only did I have meetings continuously (to the point where I actually was 5 minutes late for one and had to explain my tardiness because of having to pee - lemme tell ya my PM turned red at that one..hey that is what you get for asking why after I apologized for being 5 fucking minutes late) - my wallet was stolen from my backpack on my way home. Some enterprising and obviously very talented pickpocket removed it from the outside pocket of my backpack somewhere between the main trainstation and home.

I didn't realize it was gone until I arrived at a bus stop and tried to retrieve it (my travel pass was in it) in order to pay the bus fare. I proceeded to dump the entire contents on the bus stop bench (freshly wrapped salmon from the store as well) and frantically search for it...all the while my blood pressure is rising, my heart rate speeding up and my stomach going into a knot that would make a sailor proud. After searching for a good 10 minutes...nada.

Arrive home via tram (thankfully you can buy tickets with your mobile phone here for the tram) and walk through the door. Mira comes happily bounding around the corner to give me a hug and pusu hello with a big smile on her face (it is adorable..she does it every day and it usually makes me smile) when she notices the grey color of my skin and the redness to my eyes which signals eminent tears and stops dead in her tracks. She asks what's wrong and I tell her. She then asks me calmly to retrace my steps in my head and tell her where I was and what I did and also to dump the backpack contents on the bed (luckily the salmon was well wrapped).... Nada again...

So..after inventorying my wallet (what I remember was in it), calls to the bank to cancel my cards, the police to file a police report we finally started dinner.

Karma just gave me no Finnish id, and no bank card, no travel card, no travel insurance card, no web bank codes..... BASTARDS!!!!! The only saving grace of this whole thing (and it is ironic too) is that I am as poor as a church mouse right now and the 1 credit card I have here was actually in my pocket due to using it to pay for the dinner fixings...

We then decided it was time to break into the Moët & Chandon and celebrate that it could have been worse...

So today it is off to the bank with my passport (luckily that was at home) to get them to send me a new web bank code card, then to the police station to get a new license ordered...meetings be damned!

Shoot me

Okay...04:35 am and we just got home.... Too much alcohol... Folks...my inner kareoke singer came out... Holy hell.. I just sang "Don't let the sun go down on me" in a giant gay bar...

does this mean I have reached rock bottom and require an intervention....Sug? K?...anyone???? Seriously...450 gay men were applauding and telling me how wonderful I am..there is something seriously wrong with this picture....

...right...off to brush my teeth and sleep.... oh and the sun is coming up...

Vappu

Vappu, closest translation in english Labor Day, is the day when the whole of Finland is drunk...I mean really drunk, everyone drinks until (s)he runs out of money or is unable to swallow. And there's some kind of holiday on 1st of May too. (thankfully mom isn't visiting until the 16th :) )

This weekend is bound to be filled with drunken debauchery. Not that I would participate. I am not like that. I will sit sedately home and have a knitting circle. ---NOT---

So this weekend is filled with drinking, balloons, public displays of affection (which is really not common here in Finland) and then more drinking. It also marks the unofficial start of Spring. Layers of clothes are pealed off (despite the weather..and it has been known to snow on Vappu) and silly behaviour is abundant. Okay..sounds like a typical weekend for me..minus the balloons...

Not only is it Vappu, but the Grey Bullet has been liberated from storage. Yes folks, the Black Widow (all 750 cc's of her) has been officially put in to use for the next 6 months. She is just as beautiful as I remember and I have smiled from ear to ear today driving to work...

So..Hauskaa Vappua everyone!!!

Dr. Angelou...

Pretty women wonder where my secret lies
I'm not cute or built to suit a model's fashion size
But when I start to tell them
They think I'm telling lies.
I say
It's in the reach of my arms
The span of my hips
The stride of my steps
The curl of my lips.
I'm a woman
Phenomenally
Phenomenal woman
That's me.

I walk into a room
Just as cool as you please
And to a man
The fellows stand or
Fall down on their knees
Then they swarm around me
A hive of honey bees.
I say
It's the fire in my eyes
And the flash of my teeth
The swing of my waist
And the joy in my feet.
I'm a woman
Phenomenally
Phenomenal woman
That's me.

Men themselves have wondered
What they see in me
They try so much
But they can't touch
My inner mystery.
When I try to show them T
hey say they still can't see.
I say
It's in the arch of my back
The sun of my smile
The ride of my breasts
The grace of my style.
I'm a woman
Phenomenally
Phenomenal woman
That's me.

Now you understand
Just why my head's not bowed
I don't shout or jump about
Or have to talk real loud
When you see me passing I
t ought to make you proud.
I say
It's in the click of my heels
The bend of my hair
The palm of my hand
The need for my care.
'Cause I'm a woman
Phenomenally
Phenomenal woman
That's me.

Ammunition

Right. I have a guest coming to visit with her little boy tomorrow. As most of my friends know, if you come to visit and there is even ONE thing out of place I am all an apoplextic apologetic neurotic freakish person (thanks to a nurse for a Mom - germaphobic to the extreme, and a neurotic Stepmom - cleans before the cleaner comes to clean) who continually says "Sorry for the mess...Oh my, I am so embarrassed!." I constantly fuss and jump up from my seat to make sure everyone has something to eat or drink or whatever. Mira has devised a way of getting me to stop and realize what I am doing. Example:

Steph: "Would you like some more wine?"
Mira: "Kulta.."
Steph: "Is the food OK?"
Mira: "Kul.."
Steph: "I can run across to the store and just pick up something else if you want.."
Mira: "Hei.."
Steph: "Would you like some more wine?
Mira: "Ste.."
Steph: "Did I already ask that?...How about a beer?"
Mira: "Enough PEGGY!!"

...instant silence from me..... Seriously. It drives me nuts when my Stepmom does the fussing thing. I always thought I was much more calm than that. Holy hell how we learn to adapt and adpot the behaviours around us... I have ammunition now though now on the cleaning thing.. (thanks Hale)

Rules of Housekeeping
1. Vacuuming too often weakens the carpet fibers. Say this with a serious face, and shudder delicately whenever anyone mentions Carpet Fresh.
2. Dust bunnies cannot evolve into dust rhinos when disturbed. Rename the area under the couch "The Galapagos Islands" and claim an ecological exemption.
3. Layers of dirty film on windows and screens provide a helpful filter against harmful and aging rays from the sun. Call it an SPF factor of 5 and leave it alone.
4. Cobwebs artfully draped over lampshades reduces the glare from the bulb, thereby creating a romantic atmosphere. If your spouse points out that the light fixtures need dusting, simply look affronted and exclaim, "What? And spoil the mood?"
5. In a pinch, you can always claim that the haphazard tower of unread magazines and newspapers next to your chair provides the valuable Feng Shui aspect of a tiger, thereby reducing your vulnerability. Roll your eyes when you say this.
6. Explain the mound of pet hair brushed up against the doorways by claiming you are collecting it there to use for stuffing handsewn play animals for underprivileged children.
7. If unexpected company is coming, pile everything unsightly into one room and close the door. As you show your guests through your tidy home, rattle the door knob vigorously, fake a growl and say, "I'd love you to see our Den, but Fluffy hates to be disturbed and the shots are SO expensive."
8. If dusting is REALLY out of control, simply place a showy urn on the coffee table and insist that "THIS is where Grandma wanted us to scatter her ashes..."
9. Don't bother repainting. Simply scribble lightly over a dirty wall with an assortment of crayons, and try to muster a glint of tears as you say, "Junior did this the week before that unspeakable accident... I haven't had the heart to clean it..."
10. Mix one-quarter cup pine-scented household cleaner with four cups of water in a spray bottle. Mist the air lightly. Leave dampened rags in conspicuous locations. Develop an exhausted look, throw yourself onto the couch, and sigh, "I clean and I clean and I still don't get anywhere..."

For Titi

Reflection. Sometimes re-examining one’s life can lead to opening memory boxes best left closed. But occasionally, a beautiful light emerges and one is reminded of all things good in this world and their life.

My uncle Tomas was closest in age to my Mom. He was a shining individual whose personal truth, unfortunately, was never revealed to those around him. As a small child, I used to marvel at all of the pretty medals on his chest and how handsome he looked in his shiny uniform. He is the one who named me Honeychild and the only person, to this day, who could and will ever be allowed to call me that. I asked him once when I was older why he named me such and he explained that when I was small (memory of being small is a fleeting thing for me), I would run with wild abandon in my little blue and orange swimming suit, barefoot and laughing, through the courtyards and streets of our neighborhood while the sun colored my skin the color of rich honey and then as the summer extended, to a mahogany-like shade of brown. He swore that no other child laughed or worshiped the sun as much as I did. Titi Tomas was my hero. Not because of the medals on his chest which he never explained to me, but because he never tried to bottle my energy by telling me that children should not ask questions or that I should wear the dress that my mother laid out for me and to respect my elders. He let me be me. He let my little bare feet slap against the cobble stones right beside his large bare feet smiling at the sound of my laughter and encouraging me to laugh more. These are the memories I cherish. So few are left of him from my childhood, that when one bubbles up from the safety of its warm and soft place, I like to cling to it and hold it where I can quietly relive the joy of him. It came to me later in life why I feel we had such a bond. I believe my uncle always knew I was like him. Different. And in being different he knew somewhat the pain and difficulty I would face later in my life. His unconditional love is something I will always count as one of my greatest blessings.

Why am I sharing this? Well because today is his birthday and on this day I am always reminded of him. The wonderful memories of his smile and the way only he could get me to laugh and the way we would laugh together. I am reminded of the last words he said to me as the disease he contracted was taking his life and his light from my every day world: “Honeychild, I love you. Life is meant to be lived so when I am gone just do one thing for me. Remember to laugh.” So it is with a profound joy that I would like to tell my uncle Tommy Te amo, wherever he is, and Happy Birthday. I am honored to have had him grace my life for as long as he did. The 11 year anniversary of his death from AIDS is in October.

I will be back to my snarky posting self shortly, but for right now I am going to allow myself to be wrapped in the warm and soft love that made me Honeychild.

Rocking Friends..

Right..so my previous post was a bit of a pity party I know. I am over it. Hale commented on how people get confused by her gender or that she is a racist skin head. Anzi said that they were dumbasses...

I have no idea how someone can be confused by Hale's gender. She is tall, willowy and OBVIOUSLY a woman - shaved head or not. OH..and a hottie :)

So..my personal pity party extended to this morning..right up to the point where I called Beth. My bestfriend ROCKS my world. I call her feeling all "i need my sug and she is 10,000 miles away" and after my obligatory opening of: "Duuuuuuuude..Suga!" and her telling me how awesome it was that I called (instantly made me smile from ear to ear) she IMMEDIATELY says: "Okay..it is physics..for every action there is an equal and opposite reaction..Same thing with us. For every amazingly world class cool person like us there is an equaly huge retard in the world. And you can be on my kick ball team any time." Ya know what?...She is right. There has to be a balance...

My friends are the coolest people on the planet. Absolutely amazingly smart, insightful, totally hot and damn it, just THAT funny. So this is a shout out to all my rockin friends who are doing their part in keeping the balance. Which in and of itself is kind of frightening. Frightening you ask? Yes. Because the amount of totally rockin friends I have means that there are equally the same number of absolute retards in the world...
R=S+F
H

M= (-H)+(-F)*I


So..if you take R(Rockin-ness) to equal S (smartness) plus F (funniness) devided by H (hotness) then the dumbasses would be M (moron-ness) is equal to -H (negative hotness) plus -F (negative funniness) multiplied by I (idiotness) :)

And who said I am not good at math?..oh me...Well just goes to show I am smarter than I thought :)

Sometimes it hurts..

Okay, I am a grown up right? I am no longer the little kid on the playground who talks funny and who has parents that don't hail from Ireland and aren't decendent from the Mayflower folks. I am no longer the skinny (trust me on that one) little nob-kneed short greenhorn who was painfully shy in school when it came to the other kids. I had no problem relating to the teachers and enjoyed my course work (even at 8..geek I know)to the point where I was alienated by my class mates due to some stupid special testing that made it "clear" I was "accelerated" in my learning. Well..I have a frickin freakishly smart older brother who taught me to write cursive on the inside of my metal standing closet with a piece of chalk - at age 7. It isn't my fault I could write properly and was reading actual books (Nancy Drew was my favorite and a trusted friend) at the same age.. I count myself very lucky to have had and still have an older brother who introduced me to the joys of reading...math he still has to convince me is fun...I am well over 30 and he still has yet to accomplish THAT goal. So why does it still hurt when the other "kids" are mean?

I am not an insecure person to the point where other people's opinions of me make me shy and want to hide in that same metal closet with my coveted dog-eared books, lost in my own imagination and silently blessing Millie Benson and her creations. I have, what my Mom would call, blossomed. I don't think I am insecure anyway. Most friends I have seem to find me gregarious (word of the day for you finns who read this) and very open. Frequently I am loud and I laugh an awful lot. Sometimes I can overwhelm people with my energy and I do try to keep that tamed as much as possible. But as K says (and Beth agrees) I am loved in spite of the fact that I am loud and crazy and BECAUSE I am loud and crazy.

To the hurting part... This past Saturday, Mira and I joined 2 other couples (straight ones) for dinner in a small town called Järvenpää outside of Helsinki. We had a rather mediocre dinner at a restaurant which charged way too much for the pleasure and then decided to go out for an after dinner drink. The place we went turned out to be one of the two nightclubs in the town... After yelling over the music to be heard, we all decided to go back to the little Irish Pub we had a pre-dinner drink in earlier so we could all actually 1.) hear properly 2.) have a decent conversation without having to yell. Prior to leaving I needed to visit the ladies room. There was a Ladies, Mens and single separate WC in this bar. There was no line for the single loo so I opted for that one. Unfortunately, there was also no sink in which to wash my hands after tending to mother nature's call so I ducked into the ladies room to accomplish the task. As I am washing my hands, back to the door, a woman walks in and says very loudly so that every woman in there stared at me: "HEI! Tä on NAISTEN vessa!" (Hey!, This is the WOMEN's room!) Part of me wanted to crawl into the previously mentioned metal sanctuary and repeat "there's no place like home..there's no place like home" and part of me wanted to kick her. When I turned and said: "Haista vittu, Mä OON NAINEN" (Fuck You, I AM a WOMAN!) the woman just stared at me and proceeded to give me the longest once over in history and promptly harumphed at me... If it wasn't for the fact that I didn't want to get arrested and thrown out of the country I would have kicked her ass right then and there....

...Little did I know..I went back to the table and Marja (one of my friends) was actually in the ladies room when this all happened. She comes back and sits at the table and says to Mira and I: "Okay, which one of you was it?"... Too frickin funny. She was in a stall and KNEW it had to be Mira or I that was in there to elicit such an outburst from someone. I told her it was me..and she said "Nice use of the Finnish Language hon!".... It was then that we noticed that we were being stared at by people... Not even furtively! Openly hostile expressions on their faces...Apparently I had been oblivious to this happening most of the night until Mira said "you haven't noticed we have been getting stared at the whole time?!!"...Um..er...Princess Percepto..that is me.. NOT!

..it is the First time in Finland I have felt openly not welcome somewhere...just like being picked last for kickball...

brain...hurts...

Okay whoever came up with the idea of a 4 hour language exam starting at 08:30 on a frickin Saturday morning needs to be slowly roasted over a pit for a few days until crispy...

I think I fell victim to my usual test panic attack. I am a horribl test taker..really..I suck. My palms get all sweaty, my heart races, stomach does flips (which is why I can't eat before a test - bad calculus class experience is enough to convince me never to eat before an exam) and the ultimate...my brain goes completely blank.. I really feel like I did not do well...

..oh the shame...