I've posted: get ahold of yourself.

So a lot has happened since I last posted. For example, I left the country. Twice. The week before last I went to Toronto for the day. Literally, in and out the same day. The old in and out. I don't recommend it. It was for work and it was pretty surreal to get off a plane, wind through the airport, get my rental car and get on the road for the site office, and be driving in Canada, just like that. To honour the occasion, I sang the old favourite, "I'm driving in Canadaaaaa!" which I just made up. Here's how it goes:

I'm driving in Canada, I'm driving in Canadaaaaaa!
(repeat approx 900 times)

So that was fun. But I was exxxxxxxhausted the next day. This trip, the one that I'm on right now, is going to be much better. That I can tell already, because:

I'M IN ZURICH!

It doesn't look like this right now, by the way. I was just showing off. Landed this morning and right now I am waiting for my hotel room to be ready. I immediately sought to immerse myself in the Swiss culture by going to a Starbucks. But they have free wireless!

So that's my news for now. It's 10am now, my room should be ready. And I really need a shower. Everyone in the Starbucks said so.

Yay for public television

I love Antiques Roadshow.

I love it when people freak out when they learn that their prized possession which they either didn't think was worth much or were silently hoping was worth a lot turns out to be worth SKILLIONS!!!

I even love it when someone cocky gets up there who paid a considerable sum for something he clearly thinks is worth more and it turns out to be a fake. I saw one like that where the guy thought he had an original Jesse James rifle and he was so smug and smarmy until the evaluator was like, um, this is very clearly a replica because of these 93 reasons and consequently is worth a fraction of what you paid for it. And the man squeaked out, ok, thanks and slunk off.

Last week, there was this great one with this delightful old man who was clearly just so excited to be on the show and when the assessor told him his piece of furniture was really quite valuable, he shouted, "WOW!" And she laughed, and said, "I guess you like this old piece, then, huh?" And he yelled, "I'm liking it more and more every minute!" Precious.

Three, two, one: CONTACT!!!

So I'll tell you, something has been nagging at me since my last post. Couldn't put my finger on it at first, but then it was clear: it just seemed like unfinished business. Because silly little trivial things that I am attaching completely unproven hypothesised interpretations to. . . must always come in threes!

I finally hit upon it, the third of a trifecta of godly punitive action that I daydream is there to hassle my ex. Annoucing: the Georgia drought. As every local newscast will tell you via special programming like DROUGHTWATCH!! and DROUGHT2007!! and HOLY SHIT I'M THIRSTY!!, Georgia is almost at an all-time low in terms of a water shortage. Although you wouldn't know it from the myriad car wash places that seem to still be doing fine. Anyway, one of the primary water sources for the metro area, Lake Lanier, is getting rather shallow indeed. Here a picture to illustrate the current conditions:

There's a lot more ground visible than ever before and we can see here that it has resulted in the closure of this boat ramp. What does this have to do with the rotter ex? Only that he spent a ridiculous amount of money this Summer to purchase a waverunner. I did not think that buying an expensive piece of machinery that could only be used by driving at least over an hour away could get any sillier. Unless, of course, that body of water DOESN'T EVEN EXIST ANYMORE. Well, at least not to where having a waverunner is concerned.

So that's three. Now I can go obsess about something else.

Let the conspiracy theories begin.

I found this picture by searching Google Images with "god finger". The reason is below.

So I have absolutely no intention of making this a bad boyfriend/heartbroken/break-up/crying and eating pints of ice-cream in my pajamas/adopting cats kind of blog. And I'm actually doing okay--I think I am moving on pretty quickly and healthily. Yep, healthily. But a couple of things have happened within the last week that I think are preeeety coincidental. Preeety meta-like karma-like weird-like. Preety like thanks God for taking pity on me during a difficult time and sticking your big godfinger in and stirring some things around. Things like:

1. The Gravity Pub where Rob and I first met, closed down last Friday
2. The Smashing Pumpkins concert that were were supposed to go to together last night was cancelled at the last minute because the drummer got sick/OD'ed again

Okay, so I only have two instances. But still! I think they are a little weird, like the universe is somehow acknowledging the sad demise of a once-wonderful thing. By closing a shit-hole bar and postponing a concert.

Yep, I'm sticking by it.

Table for one, please.

So a few weeks ago, my relationship blew up in my face and suddenly I was single, after almost 14 months. To be sure, it absolutely threw me for a loop: I knew we were bickering more, but really thought it was work-out-able, and what actually ended up being the defining event is still so baffling to me on several levels. In the 2+ weeks since, which translates to approximately 900 years in Eleanor Time, I have reached the following conclusions:

1. This relationship should and would have ended anyway.
2. But, the way this relationship ended was horrible.
3. And, I did not realise that my ex was capable of such hurtfulness via his incapability to communicate.

Because this is the worst part of it. There was no break-up conversation. There was an incident, which culminated in us being in the same room together. But there was no fight and remarkably few words were exchanged. And I did walk out the door, but I never ever thought it would be the last time that we talked. I've reached out multiple times in ways that I feel are fair--it's been very important for me to handle this situation with grace and dignity--but to no avail. There has not been any instance of acknowledgement from his end, which frankly lends a surreal bent to the situation at times, like this really isn't happening. I cannot fully explain because I can't yet fully comprehend how exquisitely painful it is for someone that you have been sharing an unprecedented level of intimacy with to just drop out of your life. Vanish, like he was never there to begin with.

Shit. This post is already way longer than I had intended. And way too serious. Okay, I'll close with a moral quandary that I would appreciate your help on. Just a few days before the implosion, we ended up going in together on four football tickets for this big Thankgiving game that he really wanted to go to for his birthday. The original gift was me footing two, but he wanted to take his parents as well, who will be in town for the hol. So he gave me the cash, I got the tickets, we break up in an extraordinarily ignominious fashion shortly thereafter, he refuses all communication with me, and, well, I still have these tickets. For a game that I didn't care about to begin with and now anti-care about. A game that several friends (male, naturlik) have told me I could easily fetch twice the money for the tickets. So you see where I am going with this. High road, low road, slight detour? I'd be interested to hear your thoughts.

And anything else you might want to add. I've got the time on my hands now.

Follow-up on photo competition

Just a quick follow-up for those of you who have been desperately wanting to know the lastest with the photo competition I entered. The 3 pics below were the ultimate finalists, and I won't know the results until they are announced on 15 November. So I will, uh, let you know then. Thanks!

#1: Morning Market

#2: Prague Architecture
#3: Staromestska Station

GSU Photo Competition: I'm out for blood.

Faithful COP readers and people I just emailed:

I need your help. I'm trying to enter the GSU Study Abroad Photo Competition and I'm not sure which pics to submit. The categories are People, Places, and Details of Life. I can submit up to three photos total. I've posted about 20 or so here that I think are pretty good. But go ahead, judge me. ON THE PHOTOS.

Let me know via comments or smellabore@gmail.com. The kicker is, I need to know asap b/c the deadline is fast approaching, and if I win, you get NOTHING! ha h ah aha ha ha h ah aha hah!

Not true, rest assured I will find some way to generously repay you for your keen photographic insight. Game on!

pics pics pics--let me know which ones you like via comments or smellabore@gmail.com

Yes even more pics: let me know via comments or smellabore@gmail.com

MORE pics--let me know what you like via comments or smellabore@gmail.com

More pics, lemme know top 3 via comments or smellabore@gmail.com

More pics to pick. . . lemme know your top faves in comments or smellabore@gmail.com

Is this a cop-out post? Most definitely!

Received yet another of those emails in which you read the trivial answers about the sender and are then invited to forward on your answers to the trivial questions to others. Whereas most may react with a resounding fuck that! not me. I like answering these types of questions, I think because it appeals to the interviewee side of me. In fact, it would be really great if someone would read me the questions and then take down the answers. Come to think of it, I'm not really sure why I am not more involved in mall surveys and sampling groups. I guess because THAT WOULD BE VERY SAD. Also, I'm most interested in making decisions on my own tastes and preferences, so that would get very boring for, well, everyone involved after a while.

Speaking of! Here's the latest one! Feel free to post your answers in comments and I will be sure to thoroughly pore over the responses and let you know which ones are ok and which ones are just plain stupid.

Two names you go by:
1. El
2. Smellabore
Two things you are wearing right now:
1. bra
2. cardigan
Two things you would want (or have) in a relationship:
1. mutual respect
2. friendship
Two of your favorite things to do:
1. shop
2. make muthafucking kick-ass mix CDs
Two things you want real badly at the moment:
1. an inspiring job
2. more free time
Two things I did last night:
1. went to International Business Environments class
2. watched 1.5 episodes of The Office
Two things you ate today:
1. Special K bar
2. Turkey wrap
Two people you last talked to:
1. Rob the boyfriend
2. Ellen the coworker
Two things you're doing tomorrow:
1. The Kaiser Permanente Run-Walk (uh, I’ll be walking not running)
2. WATCHING THE SEASON PREMIERE OF CSI!!!!!
Two longest car rides:
1. Arlington, TX to Martha’s Vineyard, MA
2. Martha’s Vineyard, MA to Atlanta, GA
Two favorite holidays:
1. Christmas
2. Thanksgiving
Two favorite beverages:
1. Coke Zero
2. Water
Two things about me you may not have known:
1. I’ve never considered my mother’s cancer “real cancer”
2. I think about ridiculously morbid what-if scenarios a lot
Two jobs I have had in my life:
1. Waitress
2. Chinese restaurant take-out window girl
Two places I have lived in the U.S.
1. Arlington, TX
2. Martha’s Vineyard, MA
Two of my favorite foods:
1. Lobster
2. Smoked salmon

Because secretly, I'm a masochist!

First of all, thanks to everyone with their helpful tips to my pill quandry below. And by everyone I mean Mern. Thanks Mern, you are my one and only true friend. Seriously, I am going to heed your advice and do some more research, thanks a million.

Carrying on the spirit of female bullshit, leg hair. Except for filthy bloody hippies and eerily confident European sexpots, no one likes it. Me included. For about a year now I have been getting my legs waxed. And although I have been trying not to be a total and complete pussy about it, it hurts. The average hurt is the enhh that feels like a hard flat-hand SLAP! that extends to a sting, but sometimes it's a YOWZA am I bleeding? I think I'm bleeding sort of pain. So I thought you should know the truth, because it is NOT like it is pictured here:

This woman is lying to you.

First of all, this woman is completely hairless to begin with. Plus that "wax strip" looks suspiciously like cling wrap. My waxer, Elvira (yes, Elvira mmm boppa mmm boppa mmm boppa mama), uses a bright opaque green wax on my legs with cotton muslin (?) strips. And when she rips off a particularly hairy patch and subsquently has to pry my rigored fingertips out of the ceiling, she's all, "Oh, I'm sorry, huneeee, are you okaaay?" just to make me feel better but we both know she doesn't mean it. She's there to pull hair out of my skin, dammit. No one said this was going to be fun. Smiles McHoohah up there? Not buying it.

Let me know if I can be helpful to you on any other topic. I also know a lot about online shopping via eBay and the recycling programme in my county.

All tha ladies in tha house

Do any men read my blog? No? Good, then I won't have to deal with the collective rolling of the eyes when I talk about my woman problems. Ladies, I need some advice. That's right, WE'RE TALKING ABOUT THE PILL!!!

Yaaaaaaaaaay!!!

Okay, so here is what has been progressively happening with my effed-up body during my periodical over the last year:

1. significantly enhanced crankiness/ripping off of people's heads
2. erratic bouts of hysterical crying (more so than usual), leading to an appearance of my alter-ego Puffy McFrankenlids the entire next day
3. massive holy-shit-I'm hemorrhaging-to-death! flow one month to next month barely a whisper of a visit from Aunt Scarlet
4. switch from a couple days of meh doesn't feel awesome but nonincapacitating cramps to one SUPERCRAMP day
5. the latest symptom: ridiculously long-lasting headaches. The current one is going on 48 hours

Clearly, this has to stop. Because I am in no way medically qualified, I have diagnosed myself as mentally unbalanced, overly stressed out, and on the wrong pill. So a visit to my gyno seems in order. Right now I am on Ortho-cyclen, have been for a few years, and I don't take the placebos. Seems reasonable that my body might be better suited to another configuration of pill, maybe a lesser dose of estrogen, dunno. So I'd like your input:

1. Have you had any of my symptoms?
2. If so, recommendations? Pill-wise or other-wise?

If you don't have anything helpful to contribute, then go fuck yourself.

I told you I was cranky.

Gnasty Gnashers

So I was going to write about the decrepit state of my cat's teeth as one part of an overall blog post. And I was going to paste up a really shitty picture of grotty cat teeth just to torture you, but then I found these.

And realised that the ENTIRE post needs to be about cat teeth.

Now, Ben isn't looking great these days. It's Summer, which means that his ears and nose are always getting bitten by insects and he keeps scratching at them, so that at any given time, he looks like a beat-up old hobo cat*. Plus, his coat is thinner now, so he's not the lustrous, manly lion-cat he is in colder months. But I took him to the vet last month, and while everything else was a-ok, the vet pointed out that his back teeth are not. She recommended a brushing which I was open to. . . for about 38 seconds until I found out that it would cost upwards of $300. And I just don't love Ben that much.

Seriously, $300 bucks? For a brushing? I know most of it is the anesthetic costs, and to that I say: I'm the only one getting professionally drugged in this family. So while I will not spring for the cleaning, I did buy a tiny toothbrush and pet toothpaste today. Ben is going to flip. I can't wait.

Anyway, here are the pics I found when looking for rotted cat teeth. These are better, trust me.
I know it's a bit blurry, but this one is my fave--look at this guy! He's like, "You want 'em? YOU WANT 'EM?? BLAAAAAAH ROAAAAR!!!!" I think that's even a little cat spittle at the bottom. Awesome.

This guy below is also like "BLAH FUCK YOU!" With his slitty eyes teeming with hate. I like this picture because it very effectively illustrates the amazing amount of difference in cat teeth size--look how pic the bicuspids (incisors? I never know) are compared to the little tiny teeth in between. They're like teethlets that one day hope to become teeth. Ben's are even more extreme. Sometimes I push his lips (?) apart to look at the teeny tinies with amazement, while Ben drools on me and thinks, "I hate you."

As much as I wish it would, this is not going to happen for me. I just envisoned a world where Ben would roll in with a toothbrush hanging from his mouth and be like, "Oh this? Just doing my part for dental hygiene, I know how much you hate it when I jump on your face in the middle of the night and breathe dead insect breath on you."
Okay. This cat has gold teeth. I would almost be willing to spend $300 on this.
I'd just like to close with reassurances to everyone that I indeed do have friends and even a lovely boyfriend. So don't worry about me. Too much.

*It's better this year, because I got some repellent ointment from the vet. Putting in on him is krizazy fun! Wanna come over and do it for me? Please?

HOW DARE YOU????

After receiving some particularly biting feedback on the, ahem, not-so-fresh feeling of the old COP, I wept. Large, hot salty tears for about three hours. But then I said no. No more feeling like this. No more feeling worthless. No more feeling guilty and bad for never updating. No more dodging the slings and arrows of heartless and cruel commenters. No more having a fulfilling life with exciting things that take me away from the COP. NO MORE!!! Because, today, 31 July 2007, I AM UPDATING THE CUP OF PIZZA.

I'm going to wait a moment to let you drink it all in.

Okay.

What I really wanted to do is find someway to have it be all quiet and then have THIS!

pop up and scare the hell out of you. But then I realised a) that's a tasteless and crude way to treat such a revered image and, more importantly, b) I have no idea how to program that sort of thing. But I do have a point with the pic, and that is to introduce to you the riveting tale of:

My weekend in DC: the first out-of-towner with Rob to visit Ginny and Paul

Yes! We flew up on Friday morning to hang out with my bestest fren Gin and her lovely husband Paul--realised that on the plane this was the first time in my life that I had flown with--shh--a boy! That I am dating! That I actually like, nay, lurve! It was so very weeeeeeiiiird, because either I have flown back and forth from seeing a lad or didn't date him long enough to leave city limits with him (latter constitutes approx 99.9% of scenarios). So there was that. And then there was this!


Pretty much as soon as we deplaned, Gin picked us up and we sped off to the National Geographic headquarters. Paul won a silent auction, so we got a behind-the-scenes tour of the magazine, the inside scoop on how they make it, a preview into the next issues, etc. The pedigree of that place is unbelievable--stood in the boardroom which is exactly how you picture the NG boardroom to be--fireplaces as tall as me, large incandescent floor globe, artifacts on shelves, famous photographs on walls--with an ornate double marble staircase leading up to the room with an original mural by NC WYETH ON IT! Amazing. Anyway, it was very cool but a bit overwhelming and afterwards we simply had to go for a drink, kicking off the veritable boozefest that would become the signature activity of the weekend. That night we had a delicious din at an Ethiopian resto--my first time--at which I greedily (and unwisely) plucked the last lamb niblet off the communal plate, not realising that the underside of it was sitting in a ridiculously potent pile of chili powder. One fire hydrant later, I was enjoying VERY strong coffee and the best baklava I have ever had. Ever. Ever ever ever.

Next day, boys' choice: this is why we ended up at the Air and Space museum.

I'll be honest: this is not the Smithsonian offering I would naturally gravitate towards, but there were cool parts. Imax film that made me want to throw up? Check. Seeing the original Wright Bros plane and the Spirit of St Louis? Check. Fondling of lunar rock? Check. Okay, I'm done. Except that we stayed for 3 more hours. Meh. Afterwards we went to the cafe in the Hirschhorn sculpture garden where we proceeded to drink ourselves into yet another oblivion. Stumbled off into the sunset across the national mall, being all that we could be and proud to be Americans. Met up with Peetah and lovely gfriend Darcy at a hip pizzeria in or near Adams-Morgan area that night. We ate, we drank, we conquered--good times had by all, sensible Ginny touting all of us home and finished the night trying to play Taboo and Scattergories.

Sunday was wind-down day, rainy and grey all day. Grilled in between showers and watched movies. Checked in for flight earlier in the afternoon and all was well as we prepared to return home. Until 5pm, when we checked on the flight to find it had been cancelled and they put us on standby with no notification for the next morning. Unacceptable. After 45 mins on hold, we got rerouted to a flight out of Reagan that meant we had to leave NOW to make it. Sped to the airport in very substantial rain, got inside and line for Delta was, oh, about 100 people long. I immediately resigned myself to the reality that we were not going home that night.

Sent Rob up to the front of the line, as he had the greatest chance of producing results in this situation, whereas I had the greatest chance of flaying someone's face off and getting us arrested. He came back to announce that the dickhead on the phone rescheduled us for the next night's flight, so now we didn't even have any dibs on flights going out earlier. Stood in line for over a hour--we finally ended up getting someone on the phone whilst in line who rebooked us for 11am in first class out of Dulles. Okay, that works. While that was happening, however, excitement brewed: someone had left an open laptop on the ground about 10 feet away from the line. We looked at it for a while and I finally went to get a TSA guy--I mean, who leaves an open laptop and walks away from it for--at that point--better part of 10 minutes unattended? TERRORISTS, THAT'S WHO! So it was all very dramatic, and before long, there were cops and TSA all standing around it, discussing what to do. But by then, we had secured the rebooking, so we just got the hell out of there--picked up a couple of pies on the way home and had a late dinner with Gin and Paul, who graciously hosted us for another night.

Got to the airport in the AM and found a scrumtiddlyumptious Potbelly right next to our departure gate. Yes! They were serving Italians! But it was 8am! And I figured my stomach would be like, um, no. So had a brek sandwich instead, read a little, and before we knew it, we were on the plane in our swanky seats looking disdainfully at all the riff-raff boarding behind us. HA HA!

Home. Back at work now, clearly. Speaking of, I really should get on some things. But I hope you've enjoyed the weekend recap. I'm actually off on break from school until the 20th, so stress levels should be fairly reasonable. I may even start working out again. Holy shit!

QCC2: Malta Memories

I was thinking this morning about the upcoming QCC3 and inevitably starting reminiscing about the last QCC, the beloved QCC2. Good times were had by all. Also several bouts of drunkenness, screaming, slamming doors, long periods of the silent treatment, and loud cursing, but mostly good times. Found some simple pics of the island that I thought you would enjoy. Malta really is a beautiful place. Happy Friday.

First, the awesome ones.

These pics have really nothing to do with being in Prague or Budapest--in fact, there's no way to really tell that they were even taken in Prague or Budapest. But they certainly were. Each one has the distinction of the subject either drunk or about to be.

And so, I present to you: Lena and El, finding something hilarious on the last night in Budapest at our already-local, Bonnie and Clyde's:
Here's photo-whore Jonathan with a wild-eye gaze after taking a big sip of beer.
Sarah, being extraordinarily dramatic about something. I think this was the cafe where we waiting approximately 2 hours for our food.
Mags in the subway getting way too close
And possibly my favourite pic of the whole trip, that of Ashish going k-k-k-k-k-krazy! for Unicum, the national drink of Hungary. It's a Jager-like liquer. STRONG. This was taken at the Unicum factory where we were taste-testing. The picture is blurry because I couldn't stop laughing. Good times.
See? Who needs pics of actual buildings and landscapes? These pics are the very embodiment of the Prague and Hungary effect!

Seriously, I'll get the rest up soon. Thought you'd enjoy a little peek into the debauchery that ensued.