Nice

Upon arriving at SFO airport, I was greeted by the luggage handler with “Konichiwa!” So much for being excited about the return of racial sensitivity.

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Illogical things Bendita the dog is afraid of…

Bendita is supposed to be a guard dog. Something went screwy on the way because she is hands down the most cowardly, if adorable, dog I’ve seen. She doesn’t even bark or get freaked out when she is afraid, she literally just turns around and trots as fast as she can to my Senora. Here is the list (which grows by minute) as it stands:

  • Thunder (more understandable)
  • Wind (…less so)
  • Bee on the OTHER SIDE OF THE WINDOW (Seriously?!)
  • My laptop wire
  • The light from my flashlight. Yes. When the fusebox blew out and I was using the flashlight, all I could hear were scampering noises as Bendita tried to run away from the light.
  • My flashlight, bringer of said dastardly light.
  • My squeaky shower slippers
  • Her own reflection

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Spring Breaaaak

I’m on it, starting tomorrow. A break from what, I’m not sure. 15 minutes of homework a day? Class at the Prado? Rampant siesta-ing? The point is, I shall be traipsing through Europe 3/26 until 4/13. We shall be hitting up Krakow, Wroclaw, Prague, Budapest, Vienna, Salzburg, Florence, Venice and then Rome for Easter. Yes. Rome. For. Easter. We are dumbasses. If we don’t get trampled by the Catholics, I promise to represent the Swawk in at least 4 countries. Shall be epic. Things you should remind me to blog:

  • Berlin (ja!)
  • Galicia (umm…si!)
  • Creepsters at the Retiro
  • The stealing gypsy that ruined it for the rest of her gypsy friends because NOW I DON’T GIVE MONEY TO ANY OF YOU.
  • Arielle’s way too short visit. 😦 I don’t know how to live without that girl after being roomies for 2.5 years.
  • How I miss you all a ton but realize I am terrible at keeping in touch but seriously this time difference thing is hard to manage and please still be my friend when I come back. You get a keychain!
  • Why I love XX (Miss XX if you’re nah-sty!)XX: read my blog ho
    i only get two readers a day
    and they’re both me
    i checked

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The Big Chop

For those of you stalking my feed on Facebook (as any true friend should), you already know I’ve chopped off about 6-7 inches of hair in the back for one of those bobs with the longer hair in the front. One side is longer than the other, although def not on purpose, but I kind of like it. If you’re thinking this hair sounds hipper than I can pull off, you might be right.

Pros of having no hair:

  • Almost no shampoo used and shower time cut down 20% (or 19.86% if you want me to be exact. Yes I calculated. No I didn’t, I have trouble multipying).
  • No knots. Usually that requires more than 5 inches of hair.
  • Bed hair = Textured hair! That insufferable cowlick just became artsy. Aww yeah!
  • Hanks of it can hide your moon face!
  • Much, much cooler…in terms of body temp. When you’re in a discoteca with people (eugh) touching on all sides (euuugh), you’re gonna appreciate this.

The cons of having no hair:

  • Goodbye convenient ponytail!
  • I am convinced grease spreads faster. With long hair, I would wash my hair in the morning and normally wound up looking like someone dumped a bucket of water over my head around 5 p.m. It’s looking bleak, y’all.
  • Much, much cooler. I get creeped out by the sensation of wind on my neck simply because I have not felt it since I was 14.
  • Androgyny if you don’t have a culo (hey hey) or boobage (hey oh!). EVIDENCE:
    • Drunk gross guy: CHIN, CHIN, CHIN, CHIN (= China)
    • Me (already pissed and shoving him away): Qué te pasa?!
    • Drunk gross guy: You must promise me you will have a drink with me because you are very handsome.
    • Me: Uh…do you mean BEAUTIFUL? (disguising rising panic)
    • Drunk gross guy: Yes, I mean, no, no…handsome. (At this point, he begins bowing and I walk away slightly horrified.)

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durnk post say what!

yeah, in honor of the khan, here is m y inaugural drunk post. in my defensem, thius is the first time for two months i have been drunk or durnk if you’re miss xx. anyways, not my fault because this guy bought me a drink and then i ddn’t realize it ws filed with lots of alcohol. like looots of rum. and then he was so nice and fun from mexico but then he and his venezuelan friend kept tryuing to convince us to go back to his house to smoke marijuana. if you can’t tell i just proniunded that mari-joo-ana. because it’s funnier that way. anyways so molly and i usually try to aoid getting murdered/raped/robbed so we declined but i had to walk back and take the metr not really sober and i’m pretty sure i got stares as i walked into things ie poles, street signs and my door.

also spent the last half an hour chugging water and eating cheese in the kitchen. probs should clean up in morning but so tired now. okay goodnight.

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Olá Lisboa!

Just got back from Lisboa (Lisbon) and I am absolutely in love with Portugal. It’s a lot grimier than Madrid, but so much more peaceful and filled with trees (I missed you!) and rainbow sherbet colored buildings. There is also a pastry shop and/or an antique book store every 3 steps. My kind of town. It was surprisingly not that hard to understand Portuguese, it’s just Spanish with a whole lot more “sha” and “jha” sounds.

The high points:

-Oasis Hostel. If you are ever in Lisboa, you must stay in this hostel. The cleanest I’ve been in (At the hostel in Salamanca, there was definitely something alive in the shower drain and I also woke up with a hair in my mouth. It was blonde.) and you get free breakfast for 20 € a night. The room are gigantic with a terrace and a very very pretty cat. The best thing are the workers there. Oasis takes in travelers and lets them stay for free if they work there and make beds. The result is you get to talk to the coolest people from all over the world and they make you chocolate and Kahlua cake. Make sure to get in contact with Keeley (Australia), Christina (Madrid) and Toby (Germany).

-Going to the Quinta. Basically, rich kind of crazy old man decided to build a labyrinth-like palace that represented his cosmological attitude toward life (Pre-Swattie Swattie?). It’s full of mouldering stone towers and moss-covered secret passageways a la all of my Secret Garden fantasies. Includes a optical illusion bookcase that make it look like you’re about to teeter off a precipice. I’m not telling you how long it took us to stop being pansies and go into the room. No guides or signs, so you’re left on your own to discover little hidden ponds and an enormous underground aquarium. Bring a flashlight, yo.

-Pastries, pastries, pastries. The Portuguese do it right–piping hot, eggy and not too sweet. We tried to bring some of the famous pastries back to our Senoras but that was foiled when we discovered we had finished the entire box. We were roughly 25 steps from the storefront. Also best fruitcake…ever.

The low points:

-Getting drunk on one caipirinha. Yes, I got drunk on 2 € and Jessica proceeded to abuse my state by emptying her repertoire of heinous jokes. I believe at one point, I begin giggling hysterically at the word, “India.” God, caipirinha is the most digusting thing I’ve ever drunk. Sugar cane rum sounds delish right?  WRONG. Only our cheapness motivated us to gag the whole thing down, making hacking noises the entire way. I do like that in Portugal, no one drinks in bars. They wander the streets holding their plastic cups. Add in the red cups and we’ve got a (albeit Paces) party!

-Almost getting arrested and slapped with a 120 € fine from the Bus Security Patrol for not paying a 1.40 €  bus ticket. We (being idiots) didn’t understand how to use the ticket machine and instead waited for the ticket taker. Before anyone came, the bus was SWARMED with people in maroon jackets demanding to see tickets. Every time we tried to explain, the woman said, “TOO LATE. NOW YOU HAVE TO BE PUNISHED” and pointing at the fine, clearly enjoying us wetting ourselves. Luck was on our side because we didn’t carry our passports with us and laziness won out (as usual) when they realized they would have to drive us back to to the hostel. Unfortunately, we saw a Russian couple and a woman from Cote d’Ivoire carted off to the police station.

Woman: You Americans think you can always get away with everything but now you are learning a lesson!

Us *Words muffled because we are so busy licking her boots*: We didn’t understa–

Woman: Okay, well, this time I will forgive you. *Crazy smile pops out* Have a good holiday!

And then she proceeded to shake all of our hands while grinning…BITCH IS CRAZY.

-The sketchy. God, it’s like Madrid x 100000. I wanted to scream, “STOP TOUCHING US WITH YOUR EYEEESSS.”

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Urooj is a mean older sister

Today, I got this e-mail in my inbox from Zarah, Urooj’s sister:

“OMG i heard you got arrested i cant believe you almost robbed a bank!? (urooj told me)

1. what where you thinking

2. why didn’t you call parents

3. if you didn’t have a phone you should have robbed one of your friends it would have been a lot easier

4. i hope you get out of jail”

I hate you Urooj. And WTF about 3!!! What are you teaching Zarah?!

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