Me and ... Fraggle Rock

A few days ago, i got back on Facebook ... I know, i know shame on me. Whatever. After saying that i've been feeling anaesthetized for the past week or so, i felt i could go back safely. And i did. And guess what?

I felt nothing.

But that's not really the topic here.

So a few days ago, i read on Facebook a little "favor" a lot of people were asking for: change your profile picture for a cartoon image from your childhood to protest againt violence towards children.
I honestly don't think that changing my profile picture on Facebook is gonna do any beaten kid any good but hey, doesnt cost me to do it anyway. So i did it.

Well.

from left to right: back row: Mokey, Gobo, Red - front row: Wembley, Boober

It was supposed to be from Nov. 23rd through Nov. 30th and it took me like 3 days to figure out, shit, what cartoon really marked my childhood, considering i've never been a tv person.
And the only one i could remember off was Fraggle Rock. And then i realized that it is NOT a cartoon. It's like a muppet show. But i thought, fuck it, it is something kids watch, it is something I watched when i was little and that made me dream of finding a hole in my wall and tunnels that lead to Fraggle Rock and meet all the characters and shit and dreading to bump into a Gorg or that one of the gorgs would actually eat a fraggle cuz you know when you're a kid you don't know for sure the good ones are gonna make it and the bad ones are gonna loose. And i was having nightmare about those gorgs and i so wanted to be in Fraggle Rock and obviously i was identifying myself to one of them even though back then i didnt really understand why this one more than another one ...

shit they're still scary :s from left to right: self proclaimed King and Queen of the universe and their son Junior

Who am i?
Oh come on! If you're read this blog more than once, or if you actually know me in person, you already know now don't you. I'm RED =)
Here's a quick description (from my dear beloved wikipedia) of who she is (hence who i am) ...

Red has an exuberant and athletic nature; she is one of the best swimmers among the Fraggles. She is also highly cynical of her friends' plans and ideas and often teases Gobo about his Uncle Traveling Matt (occasionally yawning while he reads the postcards). Red, like Gobo, wants to be in control, and there is often friction between them over who should be the one in charge. During the course of the show, Red and Mokey become roommates. Red has a yellowish orange hue, red hair, and wears a red sweater.

She wants to be in charge, doesnt like authority, is sarcastic ... I mean she even have red-hair. And she's also the goofball of the pictures (i can't seem to find one single picture online where she looks "decent").

So for about a week now, i've changed my profile picture to Red's picture (her name is the french version of Fraggle Rock was Maggie) and i now remember that a friend of mine actually said once that i even look like her (i mean, ok, there might be some resemblance in characters but physically, excuse me, but no. I'm not yellow, i dont have long hair, let alone pigtails and i'm not like, OK FINE i look like her ... shit (** sight ** heavy sight**))

So now, every time i've been checking my FB or my farm, i've seen the cartoonized me and want so bad to get the collection of Fraggle Rock on DVD.

Dear Santa, i've been a very good girl (smile heavily loaded with meaning) - even when i've been naughty i've been very good at it.
I WANT FRAGGLE ROCK ON DVD.

And i still havent figured out how to post a video so anyway, there you go ... just the way i used to watch it ...
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SK5DTAZ5pq4

Entrez dans la danse, les soucis n'ont pas de chance
La musique commence, ca c'est fraggle rock
Oubliez la danse, le travail c'est votre chance
Que les jeux commencent, ca c'est fraggle rock
Ca c'est fraggle rock!

AWESOME =)

Me and ... Batman

Today was one of those days when it rains so hard you can't even see the other side of the streets and there is so much wind the water accumulated on the streets is making waves big enough to surf. Added to that a collapsed bridge a few weeks ago and traffic gets even crazier than normal. Which was the perfect excuse to go wait for the worse of the situation to go away at my boyfriend's house ... Jaja. Tous les prétextes sont bons!

That said, i headed home around 11:30pm hence arriving home 20 minutes later, thanks to no traffic at all. And that's when it all happened. To ME. Again.

I was quietly sitting at my computer, getting ready to harvest my grapes in my farm watch a movie when i realized that batman has made his way inside my living room without being invited. So no, i'm not Robin, not planning on becoming his assistant either. Yes i WAS wearing a cloak cause the simple THOUGHT of a flying thingy touching me brings me the creeps. And then what the fuck do you do when you have a 30cm wide bat soaring around your living room. I mean COME ON.

Why does that kinda shit always happens to ME?
Why does it always happen when i'm alone? or when it's late at night and i can't call anybody to the rescue?
Why don't i have a DOOR to my bedroom?
What about if the bat gets IN my bed?

And most important question: WHERE the hell did it go?




PS: if bat issue is not solved by the time i'm going to bed, i'm sleeping in the car ...

PS2: i wanted to put a picture of a real bat but i mean seriously, you've seen how ugly and disgusting this animal is? and it's FLYING on top of it all! I dont mind it outside but inside MY house, it's just too much. There is really no need to create monsters for movies, i mean some animals really are dreadful. Or is it just me?

Me and ... My Unusual Dreams

What i'm going to write next is most likely gonna make no sense at all for most of you or maybe make you believe i have completely lost it (which is not entirely false true). Dreams are (quote from Wikipedia) a succession of images, sounds or emotions which the mind experiences during sleep. The content and purpose of dreams are not fully understood, though they have been a topic of speculation and interest throughout recorded history.

For me, most of my dreams are extremely precised and they feel so freaking real it's creepy. To the question that i know you're gonna ask regarding what language i dream in (and this is so not the topic here), i'll answer that it depends who i dream of (if it's my parents, or friends from France, it'll be in french, if it's colleagues from work i speak english to, it'll be in english and same for spanish ... But as i said, it's not relevant to the subject here).

I realized recently that i tend to remember my nightmares more than my actual pleasant dreams. Maybe because they're more intense, maybe because the pleasant dreams, i dream them awake all the time.
Well last night, i had one of those bad dreams. I wouldnt go so far as to call it nightmare because i havent had real nightmares in a long time. OK, no, i've just got one last night, it was a nightmare and it was the same nightmare i'm always having. I mean WHO does have the same nightmare over and over? Am i the only one? Cuz i'm having the same nightmare since as far as i can remember. It's always the same. Except that this time, last night, no giraffe was involved. Yeah i know. In my childhood nightmare, there is always a giraffe and an elephant chasing me. And i always end up in a cupboard-sized room, with melting walls, and the entrance of the room slowly closing itself like elevator's doors, and the room getting bigger and me getting smaller and the giraffe and the elephant getting their neck and trunk stuck in the closed door. And that's when i generally wake up soaked in sweat screaming my lungs out.
I've had that very same nightmare for YEARS. This is actually the only nightmare i have. I dont have any others. It's just this one.

Last night, it was a bit different. But there is always this concept of unreachable and powerlessness.

Last night, it was HOT. I mean really, really hot. And sleeping without an AC, in Mexico, in August, it's like not happening. Not for me at least. So i was trashing in bed, sweating like a pig, not comfortable in any position. And that, for me, especially when i'm really tired, is like "open house" for disturbing creepy dreams to get in my head. Cuz i'm half asleep and half awake at the same time. My mind drifts aside, i know it's a dream but it also feels so real my brain gets confused (yes, more than what it already is) and that's when things get extremely creepy. And i suddenly wake up soaked in sweat, with my heart pumping like crazy and with this unbelievable feeling of anxiety. What i dreamt of last night was very similar to the giraffe dream. Except that no giraffe was involved this time. I was drowning INSIDE the bed. Like if the sheets and the mattress were quicksands. And i was trying to grab something away from me in order not to sink in the bed but it was just unreachable. You know, just like when you're at the movie and you're watching it in 3D and stuff from the screen are coming at you and you try to grab them and catch them but they always seem to be an extra inch away. Well like that.
So picture yourself drowning in your bed, seeing your salvation but knowing you're not gonna make it.

I woke up 3 times. All 3 times drenched in sweat, heart pumping and freaked out big time. Because all 3 times were exactly for the same reason. Every time i was finally falling asleep, i was literally FALLING asleep. Back in the sinking bed again, and again, and again.

Maybe i shouldnt watch movies like The Matrix before i go to bed ... It gives my brain waaaay too many tools to stray in the maze of my sleepless nights.

Me and ... The Bus

For the Nth time this year, my car broke down. I told my mechanic it has asthma. That's how it feels anyway. And unfortunately, i dont think there are inhalors for cars. It had to go straight to the lung doctor aka the mechanic. He called me the following day and said: darling, it's the air valve, which makes your car act like it's in 5th when it should be in 3rd and sucks gaz like a drug addict snorting coke. Yeah, i know. He said it'll be a few days to fix it since he needed to order the valve. Whatever.

I dont really use my car. Well i mean i do but i dont really NEED my car. Whether it's to go to work or to go anywhere else, there are buses pretty much everywhere. And to any destination. And the closest bus passes one block away from my house.
So on Wednesday, first day without my car, i had to take the bus to go to work. No big deal. I actually kinda like taking the bus cuz i dont have to worry about other people on the road. As most of you know already, i tend to lose focus easily, i tend to lose my train of thoughts, to be all over the place, to daydream a lot and above all, i love to do people watching. So in the bus, i can do all that.

So here i was, 7:30am, at the corner of the block, at the bus stop, waiting for my dear beloved bus to come pick me up. It showed up maybe 5 minutes later, at full throttle. Here in Mexico, unless you wave the bus driver, he will no stop. Problem was, bloody bus was so jammed packed people were HANGING OUTSIDE!! O_o

In the split second i realized that and the moment the bus was arriving where i was standing i thought "there is no way he's gonna stop" but i mechanically waved at it anyway.

And it stopped.
In front of me.
And i laughed.
I mean, dude, where am i supposed to stand? I dont mind standing in the bus, i'd actually rather stand than sit but there is no ROOM to even stand. I couldnt stop laughing cuz honestly, for me, at that moment, it was just unreal. Well i guess being a woman in Mexico surely helps sometimes, one of the guy hanging pushed himself up, the other one hanging let me hop on, and got back to his hanging place, basically making a human railing for me not to fall. How sweet.

This is the bus i'm taking in the morning. The exact same one except that mine doesnt say "ixtapa" in the windshield. But this picture is a real one from Puerto Vallarta, taken downtown.

I pass you the details of MORE people hopping on, and people getting off so having to get down every stop to let them pass. All that happening at 7:30 in the morning. I mean you havent even started your working day and it's already an adventure!!

Well today was a little different. I was working further north, in the other state to be precise. So i had to get a connection bus! jaja. 15-20 minutes of the local bus and then 30-40 minutes of the interstate one. When you're in the bus for 15 minutes, standing is ok. But i mean when you're standing for 40 minutes, it's a lot less fun. But again, that was without counting on some of my co-worker's gallantry. I got on the interstate bus after maybe 25 people. And another 10 were behind me!!!! As i was heading towards the back of the bus (cuz i'm not fond of people rubbing their ass against mine as they try to get out), a colleague of mine just waved at me and told me to take his seat. Awww. How sweet.

One of my main problem with the bus, it's like the train, it rocks me to sleep. And since i hadnt slept enough the night before, i was gone the second the bus took off. To have the same colleague poke me in the shoulder 30 minutes later telling me, hey, we're there. Damn. I would have slept another hour and came back to where i started from!

On my way back tonight, the ride was nasty though. All that i dont like about the bus, was there. So between the guy with his i-pod full volume with banda music (please, take my headset, i'm offering them to you, no you dont have to give them back to me, i'm fine), the AC that is not working (it's 4pm and 40°C outside) so sweat dripping in my back and pretty much everywhere else (and everybody else as well, eww), the traditional mexican family coming back from the beach with 6 kids and 6 massive inflatable rings INFLATED still, a screaming kid who's gonna burst his lungs open and my accumulated tiredness, nope, interstate bus ride back home wasnt fun. But i just love the local bus one. It was as packed as in the morning one but with a whole bunch of people going back home after their long day at work, in the heat, standing in their glorious sweat, tight as sardines in their tin box, about to lose their balance and fall every time the bus is starting up, hanging outside the bus again and´passing the money to pay their trip cuz they got on by the back door, and getting their change and ticket back a few minutes later after every single person in the bus has touched it, people answering their phone, others struggling to make their way out and people like me, chatting on my phone with my 2 best friends (one on the other side of the world, the other on the other side of the country), enjoying every second of the ride, soaking myself into people's every day life.

I love the bus. I actually love it so much i miss my stop half of the time.
It didnt happen today though. I've noticed last time that i needed to ring the bell in front of the beer store and get off in front of the ice cream store. And that the second i ring the bell, i need to start hacking my way through the mob to make sure i get to the door on time to get off.

Cuz i'd die of embarassment if i had to scream "bajan" to the driver.


  

Me and ... The Fat Machine

Once a week, i work at the office. Either to prepare my week of cruise ships during the busy season or to cover for colleagues on their day off during the low season. Problem of the low season is that it's exactly that: LOW.
Low meaning that it is slow, that there is next to nothing to do but you still have to sit there for 8 hours and i probably said that a million times already but i get bored easily. And when i'm bored, i do the worse thing to do: i eat.
Last day i was in the office, it was on Saturday. Since my car so nicely broke down the day before, i had to take the bus to get there. And since i am now living in a complete different area than before, i wasnt too sure about how long it'd take me to get there by bus, especially since i had a transfer to do. So i had breakfast at like 6am, hopped in the bus at 7am and got there at 7:45am. Not bad. I mean, 45 minutes in public transport to get to work, there is a lot of people who do that every single day, and for some, it's more like 1.5 hours to get there. So yeah, that was good.

Upon arrival, since there is a breakfast table set up for guests who are going on tour, i helped myself with a coffee and a sweet bread. Problem is, by 10am i was already starving. And they dont serve food in the canteen before 1pm. And generally on Saturday and Sunday, it is some horrendous tongue tacos or shit like that that i will not eat anyway. But still. There's always some kinda salad i can calm my stomach with.

When it was 11am, it was obvious that i wasnt gonna make it until lunch time so i went to our (in)famous fat machine. The fat machine is a vending machine that we have in the premises. It is actually a big ass one since there is  window for junk food and another window for pop. Why the fat machine? Cuz let's be honest, nothing that comes out of there is remotedly healthy. You have a selection of crisps, a selection of chocolate bars, a selection of cookies, a selection of cakes and ONE variety of cereal bar. And on the drink side, you have all the selection of sodas you can dream of and ONE juice option, option that is not the best either, considering that it is a juice made of concentrate hence full of sugar. So there. The explanation of the name "fat machine" (we also have fat plaza, a mall with all kind of food stands but where we only go to stuff ourselves with burgers and fries from McDonalds)

So back to our story. It's Saturday. It's low season. It's DEAD. It's 11am and I am starving. So direction: FAT MACHINE. Since i always get the same stuff, i know exactly how much i'll spend (15 pesos) but that day, i only had 20 pesos. So there i am, select product, C4, insert money, 7 pesos, slip my 10 pesos coin in, cookies fall, and then i'm waiting for my change of 3 pesos.
For those not familiar with Mexican money, 3 pesos change can be handled back with 3 coins of 1 or 1 coin of 2 and 1 coin of 1.
Well, fat machine didnt have 2 pesos coins that day so it spat me 3 coins of 1. And yeah, you read it right, bloody machine SPAT OUT the coins at me. I mean WTF? What kind of vending machine DOES that? What kind of vending machine throws the change at you? And i mean it throws it pretty damn far on top of that. And since the change box is located at the bottom of the machine, it spits the coins right into your knees.

I was in shock. Not too sure how to react either. If laughing or running away. Really doesnt help my theory about mini people working INSIDE fat machines to go away. You know. Like in Men in Black. They have ETs inside the copy machine and shit. Well maybe we have ETs in our fat machines as well. Maybe they got pissed at me for not having the exact change that day and thus making them work extra ...

Mmm, i'll make sure i'll have the exact change next time :)





PS: i'd be fat in no time if i was working in the office every day of the week. Bloody fat machine...

    

Me and ... The 3 Chickens

As most of you know already, I contracted a moving company to take care of bringing my stuff from my old house to my new one. Made my life so much easier. So when their truck got here, I opened the double doors that give access to the garden where I have enough room to park like 10 cars (that’s why mine is sleeping outside jajaja) so they’d be closer to the house to unload my big bulky heavy stuff. Problem is, when they got the truck in, 3 chickens that were hanging out on the street ran inside my garden.

I don’t like poultry. I don’t like birds. They scare me. Roosters, chickens, peacocks, parrots, pigeons, pheasants, turkeys are some of the many I can’t handle. There is obviously a reason behind it. It is a long story probably well worthy of a post of itself when I think about it. Maybe later …
So there was I, with 3 chickens in my garden and I thought, oh fuck, what am I gonna do with those chickens now? Then I tried to forget about it and focus on more important stuff to do, such as unloading the truck! And I then thought about Niki and knew she would take care of it. 

Well.

W E L L …

When I brought her here later that day, she was a bit confused and overwhelmed at first, and was following me all over the place, not really investigating anything. But then she saw or sniffed the chickens and I was like oh god, oh god, oh god.

Hearing chickens crying their lungs out in fear or stress and seeing chickens flying, or trying to fly creep me out. I mean big time. And I was worried that she’d kill one cuz then I would then have to touch it to throw it away and this is something I just can’t do. I know it’s stupid but I can’t. Just the THOUGHT of it gives me goose bumps. I think it’s just gross. One day in my old house, a pigeon killed itself against one of my window and lay on my lawn for like a week before I found someone to lift it up and throw it away.

But anyway, so there we are, Niki chasing the chickens, me not really caring too much about it (or at least trying not to care about it too much) and sweeping the floor of the house when one of the chicken ran inside the house. I mean bloody bird ran INSIDE the house. Birds scare the crap out of me, especially when they’re out of their natural environment and trust me, a chicken in my living room is exactly that: a bird outside its natural environment. Of course, it hid in between my boxes and suitcases and stuff. And I was like fuck, fuck, fuck, if this chicken is not out by the time I go to bed, I’ll sleep in the car. There is NO WAY I’d sleep in the same room as a chicken on the loose. NO FREAKING WAY. And worse thing of it all is that I knew there were another 2 hiding somewhere on my land.

My salvation came with the electrician who was supposed to be coming that evening to fix a switch that didn’t work. He came with a friend of his. And I told them, listen, I don’t mean to be a pain or a pussy or to ask you stuff that you didn’t come here for but I am shit scared of birds and I have 3 chickens on my property: one INSIDE, one behind the washing machine outside and one running all over the place. So please, please, please, help me. And they did. I forgot in what box my camera was otherwise I would have taken pictures of those 2 guys I’ve known for like 4 minutes chasing the chicken in my house.
When they finally managed to catch the last one and throw it back on the street, they were both soaked in sweat, both laughing their eyes out (because I mean come on, they come to fix a switch and end up chasing chickens) and one of them even said: damn, I haven’t been catching chickens in a long time!! No kidding. WHO does that anyway? Oh don’t tell me you did that as a kid, even back then there would have been no way I’d have touched a live chicken. A duck I wouldn’t mind at all, I even like ducks. But a chicken? HELL NO.

The funny thing about my irrational fears, like my fear of birds for example, is that when I think about it in the aftermath, I really think the whole situation is hilarious. I mean if I hadn’t had the visit of the electrician I would have honestly look for someone on the street to come kick them out. It’s like if an iguana was getting in. There are stuff like that, fears like that, that are so irrationally anchored in me that it gets the best of me and I just can’t do anything. Like when the chicken got in, I had the broom in my hand and I tried to push him out but that scared it even more and I was screaming in horror and laughing at the same time, laughing at my own pussiness, and the stupidity of it all. I mean I know the chicken is not gonna do anything to me. Well in such situation, I actually think about a LOT of stuff that the chicken could do. But anyway.

Now the 3 chickens are gone. They’re still wondering outside my gate, since it’s a dirt road in front of my house but I don’t think they’ll be stupid enough to get back in. Yet, they are chickens so considering the size of their brain, it might happen again.




OH DEAR, now I have a crying kitten right outside and Niki is throwing herself at the door, hoping that it'll blow open to rip that little motherfucker apart. One thing is for sure though, nobody is gonna get in with a dog like that!

Me and ... My Worse Hangover

I have drunk in the past. Many times. Many times WAY past my tolerance for alcohol, way more than I should have, way more than I could handle. That didn’t really stop me from doing it again, over and over again. Up until that day back in 2008 when I realized that I could drink an inconsiderate amount of vodka and still be decently standing, still be decently “sober”. That day, I freaked out and realized that I was getting closer to being an alcoholic, that I would eventually get hurt or hurt someone in the process and that the time had come that I should stop drinking. One of my friend said that it was a bit extremist, that I could still drink a glass from time to time but I know what I’m like. If I allow myself a glass, than why can’t I allow myself another one, and another one? And then we are back to that vicious circle when you stop drinking only because the bar is closing.

ANYWAY … time has passed … and things have changed. Recently, I finished up a treatment for my asthma that lasted 3 months, 3 months during which I wasn’t allowed to drink caffeine or alcohol. Needless to say that I craved both badly during that time. And the second I could drink a Coke or a coffee again, I didn’t even fancy doing so. Go figure.
Except that I DID end up drinking a LOT of Coke and a LOT of coffee. Maybe that why I’ve been feeling that shitty over the past month. Maybe there IS a reason that I shouldn’t be drinking those. Maybe my doctor was actually right.

All that to say that last Saturday, my best friend Tim was in town, back from Playa del Carmen where he now lives. And it was obvious that we were going to go out. It was also obvious that I was gonna have at least one drink with him. What wasn’t planned though, was that he was gonna buy a bottle of Ketel One vodka, and that it would be just the 2 of us to drink it up. Man does that vodka taste good. It was honestly the best I had in like a lifetime!!! And we were seating basically on the dance floor, bitching about everybody, chatting with the waiter, dancing a bit, drinking a lot, having a blast and before we notice, damn bottle is ¾ empty O_o

And the music was boring so we took off to another “antro”, drank some more there, and to ANOTHER one, drank some more there too until it was like 5 in the morning and I could barely walk, let alone dance or talk.

We walked back to the car, I made a scene (that’s what I tend to do when I’m drunk), went through a side road to avoid the police check point, still got stop at the federal check point but went through no problem, got home, fought a bit more and bed.

Worse night ever. I slept 3 hours then the dogs woke me up. Went back to bed then needed the bathroom. Went back to bed then needed to puke. Hell, I puked my soul out. I was feeling miserable as hell. Went back to bed, realized it was already 2pm but couldn’t bear the IDEA of being standing, slept a bit more, felt more miserable.

I ended up getting out of bed at around 6:30pm, took a shower to finally be partly human being again around 7pm. It was one of those hangover you don’t really have a headache cuz the booze is good quality but you’re dizzy, drowsy, nauseous and all that you’re feeling when you’ve drunk way too much the night before. It’s one of those hangover you swear to god you will never EVER drink again. And this is honestly what I said all day yesterday, what I am still saying today:

“I will never EVER drink again”

PS: I know what you’re saying… Sure, whatever, they always say that. Well I have no intention on feeling that bad any time soon. And since I don’t feel like I NEED a drink to have fun, I probably won’t. But someone HAS to finish that bottle of vodka. There is still a quarter left in the bottle :p



   

Me and ... Pier 3

I have been working at the cruise ship terminal of Puerto Vallarta for almost 7 years now. And recently, if i remember well it was in 2007, they built up a 3rd pier. Well actually, they remodeled pier 2 to make it bigger and built a brand new pier, pier 3 in order to accommodate 3 big ass cruise ships in port. Which for me means: not so much tendering to deal with anymore. Which i think is oh so fine. Tendering is a pain in the butt. People arrive late, in waves, like, bam, 150 people at once and then nothing for 15-20 minutes.
So yeah, when they said: we are inaugurating pier 2 and pier 3, even the president of Mexico came. Not that that makes a big difference, i mean the guy is 1m50 so probably nobody even saw him but that's another story.

Well pier 2 is kinda OK. I say "kinda" because it's in the sun all day, there is no shade on it, no room, no place to seat, no bathroom BUT i can send people directly to their boat or their bus without having them sticking around me and annoying the crap out of me with their stupid questions.

 Pier 3 on the other hand ... is a whole new concept. On the positive sides, it is in the shade all day and bathrooms are luxurious. Like Four Seasons bathrooms. All marble. But that's about it. Everything else is far. But i mean FAAAAAR. To walk people to their boat, it takes 10 minutes (I’m talking for someone reasonably fit like me), to get to the closest stand where you can get a decent coffee, it's 12 minutes (or crossing a 10 lines street), for a snack, even a crappy bag of crisps or any kind of junk food to calm down your insides, it’s also 12 minutes or 10 lines of insane traffic (especially at the time you generally NEED the bag of crisps to calm down your screaming stomach), if you’ve forgotten some boarding passes or liability release forms, it’s also 12 minutes, if you want to exit the pier, it’s 10 minutes, if you have a break between 2 tours, unless you have at least 2 hours, it’s pointless to do anything cuz you’re too far and by the time you’ll get where you have to be, it’ll already be time to come back.

Pier 3 is the pier at the front of the picture. Pier 2 is where the Norwegian Pearl is docked and pier 1 is all the way to the back of the picture, basically where everything is : shops, food, coffee ... etc

But yeah, bathrooms are awesome. I mean they should do a tour to the bathroom of pier 3. That’s what I tell my guests if they have to wait with me on the pier. You can go to the bathroom even if you don’t need to pee. It’s definitely worth a trip.

And just next to pier 3, there’s the naval military :D

Every morning, they run around the base. Guys with uniforms and guns :p

And they sing also. One lead singer, and everybody else repeating after him. Reminds me of summer camp!

All that to say not too much. I have no idea where I was heading to with this post. Just that pier 1 is now in maintenance for a few months so “my” ship is now going to be tendering and my colleague’s ship is gonna be on pier 3. Everybody hates pier 3. But I guess I’ve done my share of it. I should have counted all the kilometers I’ve walked. Those added to the ones I walk with my dogs…

And then they ask me how do I keep on losing weight? Try pier 3 for a few weeks. No food and walking. That should do the trick!!!

   

Me and ...

Before anything, an explanation is in order ...

Back in the days, there was this guy in the company i work for, that nobody really knew what he was doing (but he must have been somehow important, at one point, he even had a secretary), who one day decided that it was high time for this institution to have its own newspaper. By newspaper, i mean more like a little home-made magazine everybody and anybody could write in. It was to be published every month.

Obviously, after a few months and a few publications, Big Boss realized that this magazine was not making any money whatsoever, that it was just expenses, no benefit and mentioned magazine was published once a trimestre - that is to say 4 times a year (insert sarcastic laugh here).

Anyways.

As soon as i heard about this mag. and that they were looking for "journalists", or people willing to write something, i went to see the guy in charge and tell him: me me me! And since not a lot of people were willing to write, i was, then, more than welcome. And i "signed" up for 2 columns: one called "the good old days" in which i was interviewing the employees who've been in the company the longest (we have numbers in order of employment, i have #676 for example - so i interviewed people who have employee numbers below 15 - there are about 9 of them still, amongst whom #1 who was my first interview !) and another column called "me and ..." in which i was sarcastically commenting on crazy/stupid stuff that happened to me (a bit like how and what i'm doing in this blog).

I love writing and knowing that people from work would discover another side of me was appealing and exciting. Unfortunately, appearances can be extremely deceptive.
When i presented him my second interview, he censored some stuff, stuff that i personally found hilarious but he said no no no. One of the question in the interview was "what's the best memory you have of the good old days?" And one of them answered "when Big Boss, out of pure wrath, was firing everybody and then frantically calling everybody the following morning wondering where the hell was everybody".
Well i think that's hilarious. We all know how Big Boss is and he's so like that. But no. That was not proper. We couldnt make Big Boss or the company look bad. We couldnt either write or mention anything that'd make the rest of us feel that the company was better back in the days. Especially since ALL of the interviewees said that ambiance and comradeship was WAYYY better then than now. But then again, how can you possibly compare a company with 12 employees and one with 700. But that was a big no no. The company now MUST look better than THEN. W-h-a-t-e-v-e-r.

So when he put the wrong picture on an interview, i was like, mmm, dont think he cares, so why should i? And i gave up that column.

It's my second column that i was enjoying writing the most. I wrote about me and my job, me and the airport, me and the international ABC, me and a shit load of other stuff i dont remember but i should look for since i was actually pretty proud of myself ... Come on, i wrote those articles in SPANISH. Yes m'am. So being sarcastic in a language you dont fully master is quite a challenge. But anyways.

One day, i came out with "me and Mexico city". I should have called it me and mexico city's traffic but i just called it me and mexico city. Well that was a mistake. And a big one apparently. Let me clear up something. I have absolutely NOTHING against the city of Mexico. I truly love the place, i have had the best of time there and the welcome i got from mexican from the city was great. Moreover, most of my mexican friends are from Mexico city. But come on, i dont think there'll be anybody here that wouldnt agree with me on the fact that traffic in Mexico city is insane. And if you're not from there it's even worse. But he (from Mexico city) was apparently extremely offended by my text. And he told me: you need to re-write it, to adjust it so it doesnt offend people from DF. And i was like, i'm sorry but no, i am not re-writing my text. You do it.
And he did it.
And when i read it, i almost fainted with shock and horror. My original text had become something that i could NEVER have possibly written. In his "adjustments", he had made ME a complete idiot who was too stupid to find her way through Mexico city. So i told him: if you publish this piece of shit, dont you DARE putting MY name on it. I'll shoot you in the eye.
And he didnt.

And that was the end of it, the end of my participation to this glorious magazine who died one issue after i quit.

That's when i realized two things:
- i dont like to have a boss
- i like even less people telling me what to do and how to do it.

So this is why i have decided to bring back my favorite column of all times: ME AND ...
There'll be no censorship and nobody to tell me: oh maty this is bad, you shouldnt post it.
To those people, i have only one word to say (i'd use the f word but i'd need 2 words and i said i only had one jeje):

W-H-A-T-E-V-E-R