In Which I Embarrass Myself…

…even further.

Badass Geek is having a contest and I am prepared to do what it takes in order to win.

The inspiration for his contest:
The Klondike Bar commercials; as in what would you do for a Klondike Bar?

The prize:
A limited edition ‘Badass Geek’ pin.

The challenge:
Post the “funniest/most awkward or embarrassing/creative/awe-inspiring examples of "What Would You Do?"

“What Would I Do” to win a pin? Well I guess I’ll admit my most embarrassing moment. (Which makes me wonder what I’d do for a million dollars!) This story has only been heard by one person, and one person only, my BFF. It meets four of the five criteria listed above. It is funny now; it was awkward when it happened and it is possibly the most embarrassing moment of my life. After you read this, it will inspire you…I’ll tell you how at the end.

Here goes.

Quite a few years ago when I was dating someone after my divorce, he arrived early to pick me up for a date. I wasn’t ready so I asked him to wait while I took a quick shower and got dressed. I had started the water for my shower but didn’t get in right away. After hearing the water running I guess he thought he would sneak in and surprise me. This wouldn’t have been a big deal because he had already seen me naked, except…Except?

(Oh boy, I better win a damn pin for what I’m about to admit.)

Except I was sitting on the toilet…and I wasn’t just tinkling. Yeah, right in the middle of taking a shit I heard him start to open the door. Panicking, I sprung off that toilet and rushed the door, except…EXCEPT I was in the middle of taking a shit! My shoulder hit the door and the shit? Well it didn’t hit the fan; it hit the floor.

See? Em-bare-ass-ing.

The things one will do for a Klondike Bar Badass Geek pin. I, to this day, do not know if he saw ‘it’. I mean it’s not like I was going to say, “Where are we going to eat, honey? And by the way, did you see me shit on the floor?”


Now after reading this I’m sure you’ll admit that I should win one of those pins. In fact if anyone else has a pin for their blog they should send me one as well!

Oh and the inspiration from this story; Lock the friggin’ bathroom door!

My Trip to India...

Jet lag is a Mother F’er and has kicked my ass this last week. I’ve traveled half way across the world and while trying to catch up on sleep and get in sync with this time zone, I’ve also had to claw my way up and over of a pile of paperwork that pales in comparison to Mount Everest after not being at work for seven business days.

Blah, blah, blah, after many requests from family and friends I am finally posting something about my trip. Sheesh! Give an old girl time to catch up with some much needed beauty sleep…


Part One

I arrived at O’Hare International Airport in Chicago at just after 5:00 p.m. on Thursday, January 21st, for a 7:15 flight. The last time I was at this airport was in 1995 when I flew to New York with my sister. Because we generally fly out of Midway Airport (it’s closer and much less congested) I was in unfamiliar territory. To top it off I was flying international and not quite sure what to expect or where to go. I found the American Airline counter and got in line. The man ahead of me was wearing a turban so I asked him his destination. “Delhi”, he replied; so I figured I’d follow him after getting my boarding pass. That lasted until we got through Security…or I should say until I got through Security. Apparently his shoes (or something in them) were quite suspicious and they pulled him aside. What?!?

I made my way through the terminal to the gate and what a hike! O’Hare International is huge. I found a seat and tried to read while I waited to board. I tried, but couldn’t concentrate. I was both nervous and excited. I started thinking about the long flight that lay ahead and the fact that I was traveling halfway across the globe to a place I’d never been and had only seen in books or on TV. And then…then I realized I was actually traveling halfway across the globe to a place I had only seen in books or on TV and the sheer excitement of it took over. I was going to India!

I decided after a bit it was probably a good idea to use the restroom before we boarded. I retraced my steps back through the terminal to find said restroom and when I was done I pulled up my big girl panties and headed back to the gate. By the time I walked back the group number on my ticket was boarding. I got in line and was surprised that the passageway between the door leading out of the terminal and the door to the plane (what is that tube-like structure called?) was lined with at least 15 to 20 uniformed security people. In the midst of my astonishment I didn’t pay attention to if they were CSA or FBI or what. Each person boarding was pulled aside and interrogated asked about the reason for their trip in detail. “Why are you going?” “Who are you visiting?” “What date are you returning?” “Where, exactly, are you staying?” I was curious as to if this was the usual protocol, but Paul later told me he had never encountered anything like that. It made me wonder about that man that had been in front of me at the security check with the questionable shoes…

I found my seat and settled in. I was on a Boeing 777; so there were two seats on each side of the plane with and aisle next to them and a row of five more seats in the center. Mine was next to the window and as luck would have it, the seat next to it was unoccupied. It was a long flight, fifteen hours; but I was able to sleep for a good part of the time thanks to that empty seat.

When I first started blogging I did a few posts entitled, “Ten Things About Me and…”, with the notion of eventually having a list of one hundred things about myself. That, like numerous other things, has been put on the back burner on a really low flame. If you’re wondering what that has to do with my flight to India, let me tell you. If I ever finish that list it would have to include food. I grew up in a very ‘meat and potatoes’ type of environment. Nothing fancy or exotic, not a lot of sauces, spices, etc. My palette has evolved since but there are just some things I don’t like/eat. Two are fungus mushrooms and eggs. I will eat the white of a hard boiled egg with salt around Easter time, but just don’t eat them otherwise. So the meal choices on the plane were ‘chicken with mushroom sauce’ for dinner and ‘an omelet’ for breakfast…or vegetarian. I opted to go the vegetarian route for both. I recognized rice and a chick pea or two, but other than that I truly wasn’t sure what I was eating. Thus my first ‘taste’ of India was from airline food……

It’s Time for the Big Girl Panties…

With my flight for India leaving in less than a week I am starting to freak out. I haven’t packed yet and the problem is that I really don’t know what I’m bringing. There are still things I need to shop for, my hair needs to be dyed*, and my feet need a Pedi…these things are stressing me out, but that’s not what I’m freaking about.

The thought of being on a plane for fifteen hours straight is a bit daunting; especially by myself. Well, not really by myself, as I’m pretty sure it’s a full flight, but you know what I mean. I know I’ll read for a good part of the trip and hopefully sleep a lot, but still? I’m expecting major suckage. That aside, what I’m really thinking about (probably too much) is getting off the plane. I have to make my way through customs and baggage on my own, with a bit of a language barrier.

I know I’m a grown up and just need to put on some big girl panties, but if there is a problem it’s not like my crappy pre-paid cell phone is going to do me any good over there. Now this is not the first time I’m traveling by myself. In the past I have driven myself to the airport and flown to Orlando, Los Angeles and Seattle. In fact when I went to Orlando I actually rented a car and drove to and from Daytona on my own…without a GPS or a cell phone…and then followed it up with a visit to Epcot…by myself. So why am I so freaked now? Well, because it’s fucking India!!!

Agenda for this weekend:

• Figure out what clothes I’m bringing, iron them and place in suitcase.

• Whittle down the shoes and purses and sit on said suitcase so it will close.

• Dye the dark roots blonde so I know I’ll have a good time. Hey! Blondes have more fun!

• Soak my feet and make my toes look purdy.

• Pluck those damn eyebrows and do a little yard work (wink, wink).

• Buy a pair of big girl panties…at Victoria’s Secretions Secrets.

• Oooh, and don’t forget to pack the bottle of Astroglide…wha?!?

Mantra #1: (as Rob Schneider said in ‘The Water Boy’), “You can do it!”
Mantra #2: “Suck it up!”

Paul, I can’t wait to see you…but if you bring up Mantra #2, I’ll say, “Good try, but uhm-a-no.” If you come back with Mantra #1, I’ll point out that I do not have a red dot on my forehead, and even if I did it is not a push to start button…nor is it a scratch off and you will not win a 7-Eleven or a Dunkin’ Donuts**.


*My favorite line from the old Dick Van Dyke Show is when Buddy asked Sally why she dyes her roots dark when she has such lovely blond hair.

**I understand this is not quite PC, but I’m just a pube hair shy of being 100% Polish. If I can take a joke or ton about my heritage, deal with it.

I’m So Hot…

Because perimenopause not only involves hot flashes, but also crazy weight gain….

…you get Christmas presents like this:

And this:

Getting older sucks. I'll probably get Geritol in my stocking next year!

Ouch!...

I went to a travel doctor today for the immunizations for my upcoming trip to India. Five shots: three in one arm and 2 in the other. Ouchie Mama!

None of these were required for entry into India, but all were highly recommended for going there. Because they were not required, my health insurance won’t pay for them. So not only am I saying ‘Ouch, ouch, ouch!’ when I raise my arms, I’m repeating that same ‘Ouch, ouch, ouch’ when I look at my wallet. How much did this cost you wonder? How about six hundred fifty five dollars…yes $655.00! Of course that also included the doctor’s consultation…which was all common sense. I already had the information I needed from both what Paul had told me and from my good friend Google. The only enlightening tidbit I got out of him was to wear compression stockings on the airplane.

I also got two prescriptions. One for an antibiotic, should I get a nasty case of the runs that Pepto Bismol can’t handle, and another for Malaria. He told me there is no immunization for Malaria, but I should take one pill the week before I leave and then another pill each week for five weeks afterward. I’m all up for having an antibiotic available to me in a foreign country, but I question the Malaria prescription. Paul, who is living there, was not prescribed this by the travel doctor he saw. Also, it’s not monsoon season while I’ll be there. I’ve tried asking Mr. G, a/k/a Mr. Google, about this but unfortunately I’m not having much luck. Is there anyone out there reading this that might have some advice or be able to point me in the right direction? If so; now’s a good time to delurk.

Now is not also a great time for people to delurk if they have information (btw, who the heck are all of you anyway? My stats are way too high for the comments I get and the people I know who occasionally read), it is also a time for me to divulge my main India Info Connection. Ellen, of A Reason To Write has been living in India, with her husband and three children, for almost a year. She is not only entertaining to read, but her posts are chock full of information about living in India, and the other countries they have visited in the last year. Can’t wait to meet her in two weeks!

Jolted and Revolted...

I have had blog fodder falling out of my butt like hemorrhoids lately, and yet? Nothing. I was finally jolted off my Preparation H pad when Lou actually called me on the phone tonight to see if everything was okay; which was very soothing sweet.

Paul came home from India for the holidays; unfortunately he had jet lag for the first five days and an upset stomach for most of his ‘visit’. He left for Mumbai a/k/a Bollywood this past Monday and I’ll be meeting up with him in Delhi in two weeks. Can you say “Freak Out?”

Anyhoo-ha, here are a few tidbits I’ve learned about India:

Laundry.
Apparently when you send your shirts out to be cleaned they come back as if you had just bought them. By this I mean that they put the cardboard piece in the collar and tissue paper in between the fold. They also tag each sock separately, not in pairs. I meant to take a picture to show you, but I didn’t.

Water.
You only drink water out of a bottle…that you’ve either purchased from a reputable store or have seen opened in front of you; and of course no ice. You rinse after brushing your teeth with said bottled water and you do not sing in the shower.

Food.
As a Westerner, you never eat raw food and don’t expect to get beef; cows are sacred there. In fact a lot of Indians are vegetarians. They do have Subway, KFC and McDonalds, but it is sometime more expensive to eat at one of these compared to a restaurant. And if you’re wondering if they have burgers at McDonald’s, they do. They’re called veggie burgers. They do have chicken nuggets and chicken roll-ups; and served with your fries there is Chatpata Spice Mix. I haven’t tried it yet; I just need to make a stop at my local Mickey Dees.

Now if you’re looking for an after dinner mint, don’t expect a few of those soft butter mints or even the hard Starlight candies because this is what you’ll get. Both have a definite licorice flavor to them.


Right hand vs. left hand.
For all you south paws out there this could be a challenge. In India you only eat with your right hand. You only offer someone something with your right hand and you except with your right hand. Why? Well, let me tell you that the majority of people in India do not use toilet paper. What do they use you wonder. Well it would be your left hand.

Paul had to bring his own toilet paper into the office; both the women’s and men’s bathroom had none. What they did have was a five gallon bucket of water next to the commode with a ladle. Oh, and only the women’s restroom had soap. Put on your Mr. Roger’s sweater and can we say, “E. coli?” Needless to say I’m packing a six pack (of Charmin) and a crap load of hand sanitizer when I go.

Hopefully more to follow; I just need to get into the zone again…speaking of zone. Here’s a picture of the polluted ozone in Navi Mumbai.


Oh wait…more India blog fodder. Here’s the Hyundai dealership where Paul is located.

There's Always Hope...

My Father-in law did not get his new heart today. His antibodies were too high and they would have rejected it. I hope, at least, someone else benefited from the donor’s gift.

We wait and pray…


On another battle front is Anissa and her family. On Tuesday, November 17th, Anissa suffered a massive stroke…and then another one. When I first heard about it I thought “How could this happen to someone so young and full of life?” I prayed for her and her family. I meant to send a donation, but then things kind of got turned upside down when Paul was sent to India.

Then, today, I saw this:

Love for Anissa! from Undomestic Diva on Vimeo.

It is truly amazing this thing that we are a part of, this thing called the Blogosphere. Our paths may criss and cross, usually through posts and comments; if we’re lucky in person. And what is even more amazing is how we care about each other even if said paths have never crossed.

Today I finally made that donation that I had planned on making a month ago. If you’d like to help, you can click on the link below. I understand that in this economy and with the holidays upon us that it may not be possible, but don’t underestimate the power of prayer.




And now I must ‘borrow’ from my friend Lou, the first blogger I met in person, and use his sign off…

Ndinombethe.

It’s an African proverb, pronounced “in-day-nom-bay-tay”. The translation: “As I go, I am wearing you.” It refers to the indelible handprint we leave on the lives of others as we cross paths, whether intended or accidental.