We’re back!! And you, my dear reader, are officially reading the blog of an old married lady. Gawd, you’re so unhip now…
I had been hoping to blog throughout the honeymoon (albeit sporadically) to avoid the unpleasant task of summing up a three-week trip in a single post, alas, my phone did not work in Europe. So…cliff notes it is.
The trouble with really big trips, especially to cool locations, is that when someone says, “Tell me all about your trip!@!!” …you really can’t. I mean, not the way they want you to. Sure, we could sit down for a few days and I could give you the play-by-play, but you really don’t care that much. So I say, “It was SO great; great food, weather, monuments, etc.” And you’re fine with that. Plus, we really just strolled about and took in the sights (and food), so there aren’t really a lot of “stories,” per say.
Well, maybe a couple.
Before I tell you the first one, there are a couple of things you need to know. First, the first day we spent in Paris it was Easter Sunday. We had a very early flight, and nothing was open by the time we rolled into our hotel. Well, almost nothing.
What I’m saying is, we had our first Parisien meal in a McDonald’s.
Were we ashamed? A little. But the fact remained that we were hungrier than we were ashamed. And I ordered in French, so that has to count for something.
And here’s something: McDonald’s in Europe is awesome. So much better than here. The “McCafe” has actual pastries and fancies coffees, and there are way more menu options. (Well, it may be that we have this in America, too, I just really haven’t been in a McDonald’s in a really long time. But I’m betting it’s Europe.)
So we ate fast food on our fancy vacation. No regrets.
In a similar vein, we also got food poisoning. No, not from McDonald’s. We don’t actually know which eating establishment knocked us on our rear ends for a solid 36 hours, but we have a couple theories. The most likely suspect is this little place we stopped for a late lunch in Montmartre after checking out a Dali museum exhibit. The food didn’t exactly look as if it had been properly refrigerated prior to consumption, and it was about nine hours later that the illness began, so you be the judge.
Now, neither of us had ever had food poisoning before, so there was no way to know exactly what to expect. For those of you who have never had the pleasure, it’s basically a really concentrated stomach flu. (Well, at least the variety we had. I googled it when I became desperate for any kind of relief, and apparently there are five different kinds of food poisoning. Fun!)
I can honestly say I have never been so miserable in my life. Everything hurt or made me nauseous. And the worst part (besides everything about food poisoning) is that it called off our spontaneously planned trip to Paris Disneyland AND Versailles. I have never been so disappointed in my life.
But really, the trip was a ton of fun overall. We saw so much, had some really great food, and came home feeling so relaxed.
Now, you know I can’t waste the whole trip in a single post, so remind me tomorrow to tell you about our trip home. It was a doozy. Here’s a few hints: There’s an eleven-hour airport lock-in and a bunch of French guys who think Joey’s (oh yeah, we decided I can start calling him Joey now that things are a bit more official) last name is hilarious.
So, I think we can safely say that I will never be comfortable waking up at 5:00 in the morning.
On a related note, I’m en route to Cleveland for work. (I know, first Costa Rica, now Cleveland? It’s a charmed life I lead.) I have to give a presentation about South Asian wedding trends (yeah…I may or may not be the only white speaker at that event) and film a wedding trends segment for Good Morning, Cleveland (sup).
It’s my goal to be the most family person on the place for my flight home.
But anyway, waking up before the sun. What’s up with that?
I hate when I get really sleep-deprived, because then even coffee sounds revolting. I feel like my whole body is dried out. And it’s like my skin physically rejects makeup (making it impossible to hide the exhaustion). Fortunately, my dear friend Laila lives right by the airport, so she let crash at her apartment last night. Unfortunately, I still had to get here in time for a 6 a.m. flight. Oh the glamour of my life.
Laila sent me off with coffee and breakfast, but I can already tell I’m going to need another. Girl needs her strength for that presentation later.
If I say anything dumb, I’m blaming lack of sleep.
Online rental is a tricky world to navigate. What with rampant Craigslist murderers and scams, it’s important to portray yourself as safe and reliable if you want to successfully rent an apartment.
Here’s how to fail at that:
Step 1: Don’t include a photo.
Step 2: Include a photo, but make sure to take it after you have removed the contents of every drawer and closet and spread the contents on to every available surface. While you’re preparing for a garage sale is also a good time.
Step 3: Include a photo, but make it of the outside of the house, a random nearby landmark (i.e. trees or the ocean) or include an especially attractive photo of your pet.
Step 4: Take all interior photos at night or from weird angles. It will make the room look bigger and definitely not like a dungeon. Trust me.
Step 5: Don’t include a city location. Potential renters will appreciate the air of mystery surrounding your posting.
Step 6: Write in all caps. It makes it easier to read, and who doesn’t love being shouted at?
Step 7: Be extremely difficult in giving out the address of the apartment, requiring no less than the promise of the proposed tenant’s first born before releasing it.
Got all that? Ok, happy selling!
Yeah, okay, this is obviously spawned by recent events. But I’ve always been annoyed by people who won’t just turn the damn thing in. It’s stamped. It has the address on it already. You have to make one decision, seal it, and get it into the postal system. No sympathy for people who are overwhelmed by that.
And if you “refuse to send RSVPs on principle,” well, then I reserve the right to not save you a seat. On principle.
The REAL Rules of Scrabble
Listen, I’ve said it before, I’ll say it again: no proper nouns. And no acronyms. And no using cheat sites and apps. This is a gentleman’s game, and I won’t have it sullied by cheaters.
Two-parter Twitter posts
I’m sorry, are you not familiar with the Twitter platform? You get 140 characters. That’s the point. This isn’t a blog (well, this is a blog….) You want a blog? Get one. But stop pretending Twitter is WordPress. I’ve had it up to here with your two-parter posts.
You know something that’s hard to bridge? The disparity between your quality of day and someone you care about’s quality of day.
Say, for example, you have the worst day ever. You forget your train ticket, get accosted by a creeper, it rains and you forgot your umbrella, you feel dumb at work, and just when you think things can’t get any worse, you train home is delayed and you have to deal with Everything That Is Wrong With The World.
You finally get home, totally psyched to just whine and moan to someone about your incomparable suffering, and you roommate/significant other/friend you called is all puppy dogs and rainbows about the fantastic day they just had.
I mean, where do you go from there? On one hand, the only way to cure a bad day is to crab about it (or write it out….ahem), but who wants to be the whiny downer who can’t even be happy for someone else’s great day?
Fortunately, modern day technology has given us about a million ways to communicate, so all you really have to do is post an emo tweet and you’re bound to find at least one other person who can relate within the hour.
Honestly, I think the real trouble comes when you’re the one who had the great day. There is nothing like coming home from a day of kicking butt and taking names to find out that someone you love had a rotten day. And the last thing you want to do is spew sunshine and daisies all over them.
So what’s the solution. I think, like so many things, the answer is time. (She said sagely, stroking her long salt-and-pepper beard.) Hold off with your awesome day until the sting of the crappy one has faded. After all, that’s probably what you’d want if the crappy shoe was on your foot. (Or something.)
Tried to forget my bus/train/subway ticket again today. It’s ok, though; I mean, I’ve been trying to fit more physical activity into my life, and that 100-meter dash I did back to my apartment and then back to the bus stop ought to help with that.
I hate doing things that make me feel like an idiot. Like, really, self? Couldn’t just do a quick self-assessment to make sure you had everything you need for the day in your bag? You know, before leaving the house?
It’s like realizing you have forgotten a really important project about two minutes before the deadline. Or that gut-punch feeling you get the moment you realize you’ve overslept.
Fortunately, I was regular about going to the gym this weekend, so made it back to the bus stop about 35 seconds before the bus arrived, only slightly out of breath from sprinting in heels and a pencil skirt. (And that, my friends, is why girls are stronger. Just sayin.)
Speaking of things that are awesome, the fiance and I might be looking at an apartment this week, possibly even tonight. Have I mentioned how excited we are to finally be living together? It’s going to be really nice not getting dropped off for the night anymore. So here’s hoping the place is awesome and the landlord lurrrves us! I mean, I dressed all “young professional” today (remember the heels and pencil skirt?) Just in case, so at least I’ll look the part of a responsible tenant.
So I guess here’s hoping I manage to get through it without doing something that makes me look like an idiot, too. Ooph.