Today is November 1.

Today is November 1. And that means several things.  

1.     The Day of the Great Reseca. (Being in such a gnarley hangover fog myself, it seems inconceivable that anything else on the list would go first). Yesterday was the great holiday of Halloween which Americans proudly celebrate in whichever country they are currently in. Spain has absolutely no ties to this holiday except what’s been seen in American movies. But there is a weird phenomenon with the younger generations to adopt American culture, so there you have it. Halloween exists here too. Its kind of like adopting a 16 year old kid from  that you dont know much about or speak its language.

I had a great costume I made in an hour and hit my dancing fun-self high around 1:00 a.m. This is how I disguised myself and confused the zombies from stealing my soul:

We actually ran into another Eduardo-manos-tijeras and everyone was like take a picture with Camille! Maybe the girl was really playing her part but she definitely acted like she was a 13 year old getting coerced into taking her picture with a creepy mall Santa. (I excitedly suggested we pretend to cut each others hair and she curtly declined.) Also while we were getting our picture taken my friend Eric yelled “Camille’s costume was cheaper!” I immediately felt proud that I was a crafty little Sally and didn’t buy one thing for my costume. (I borrowed the cardboard and tinfoil from the bar next to my house). Score! I’m amazing! But this probably was my friend building me up so that when I saw the picture I wouldn’t feel so bad standing next to an Eduardo that could have cut my tinfoil hands off in one quick snip.

Today is also a scary hair day. Since I spent 20 minutes creating a rat nest in my hair last night and then making it truly flammable with hairspray, it is beyond salvation now. If I was a shih tsu at my dad’s office, he would call my hair a matted mess and turn on the clippers. But Im not a shihtsu and I need my hair. It keeps me girl.

2.     (No, I did not forget we were counting something. Although that is a nice indicator of classic blog-digression). November 1 also marks “Day after Halloween Day” “All Saints Day”. It is a national holiday for Spain and everyone is off school / work. Spain is very Catholic. (Meaning they don’t like to work very much). When I told my mom we don’t have school Tuesday. She said immediately, “All Saints Day!” I could hear the pride in her voice.

3.     November 1 is also my half birthday. Why does no one celebrate this? (Except the Spanish obviously). I remind you people every year. It’s like with the LED Hula Hoop. How many hints does it take to get to the center of the tootsie pop??

4.     This half birthday means I’m halfway to 49. Expect to receive an email from me reminding you about a certain grand party that I will want but act like I don’t want in 24 and a half years.

5.     And….. today I quit smoking. (Shock! Camille smokes!) But not anymore beaches!

I smoked maybe a pack a week which is an infinitely small amount compared to the sturdy Spaniard smoking regimen, but probably more than the trendy Social Smoker. I’d like to say I’ve never been a real “Smoker”. Not that anyone likes to admit to the foul nomenclature. It just sounds so concrete. Like I’m a girl. I’m white. I’m a smoker. And what is the real amount that makes these people real smokers? (Remember- I’m not one.)

Side note: I picked up on connotations from a very young age and I knew by age 5 that “Smokers” were bad, smelly sinners. (I was also in MathCounts, an after school math class for middle school kids to compete and math wiz it out. I had no reason to be there since I am the worlds worst at math. But Jim Risch really wanted me there. He also ran the program.)

So needless to say, November 1 marks my quitting day. Many reasons to quit but really only two are important to me. One, I’m pretty sure my teeth have become a shade of yellow. Its gross. I can’t live with kitchen color teeth being, said pale white girl. No contrast is scary. The second reason is I’m quitting is to keep my body in check. So that Camille’s in control. In the past, I received a lot of harsh (unsolicited) criticism from some people (Patrick) and I always told these people (Patrick), “I don’t have an addictive personality, so I can quit in a drop of a hat.” That never stopped those smoking abolitionists (Patrick) from tearing my cigarettes in half or flushing them down the toilet. But then I started wondering, what does that even mean? I don’t have an addictive personality. That’s like the people who say “This slimfast bar is SO filling.” (Liars!).

But here we start. No smoking! I will be sure to keep you updated of my success. And if I don’t then that probably means I’ve fallen off the wagon. Check facebook for pictures of white sparkly teeth and then you’ll know.

Well that is all. Today is a day of recuperation, birthdays, Saints celebration and some endings and new beginnings. Tomorrow I break down November 2.

P.S. Have I ever mentioned how smart my brother Patrick is? He can tell you anything about anything!

  

-Cococamille

What is Spain?

Spain is your friends being mad at you for going home early at 5 AM. How many times can I say I am American and I should be in bed right now. Staying out to 8 am in heels sounds like the grossest thing in the entire world to me. Now you see why staying at home in pajamas and with a movie and popcorn gets more and more alluring for weekend nights. #slow transition to spinster living.




P.S. What is heartbreaking? Seeing you finally have a comment and when you check it, it has been deleted by author. I don't even know why we blog anymore for you people.

Camille's breaking point

After a long stressful day it's a good idea to relax and have a beer. I on the other hand,had such a day and then sprinted to a waxing appointment and was almost in tears because I couldn't understand how the world could be so cruel to poor me. Maybe it's better to make those kind of appointments when I'm more mentally prepared. Lesson learned. #Poor lady who thought I was having a meltdown.

This Is Insomnia Mess

I can't sleep. My brain won't turn off. Which I find ironic since it takes the liberty to do just that so many times during the average day. (i.e. No I don't remember how to say 'cenicero' in English. Its just that thing we put ashes and cigarette buts in. Actually it doesnt exist. Nope no name. Sorry.). The reason why I'm still awake is because everyone likes to "tomar un cafe" about 83 times a day here. Well if I go around tomando coffees all doggone day then Allah knows there will be retribution. Side note, I actually just realized I forgot to drink water today. Does that happen to anyone else? Or am I the only one who challenges their body to dehydration marathons? No..? Oh.... I also forget to go pee sometimes and then when the light bulb turns on its suddenly GET-ME-OFF-THIS-FUCKING-BUS-I-JUST-REMEBERED-SOMETHING. But maybe that's because I forget to drink water.

Like I said my brain has power outages during the average day.

Tonight however our gears our turning. Eyes wide open. High alert. Thank god for the internets and a big bright screen to stare so I can disintigrate my vision (more so). I got out of bed and opened it up and went through the normal click click clicks which are a series of:

-Don't Install
-Remind me Later
-Cancel
-No I dont want the new version
-Cancel
-Don't Install
-Remind me Later

These are the leave me alone clicks. Quite bothersome. If I were to prognosticate I would say that my computer is dying a sad slow death and when its finally capput, some hysterical blonde girl will yell, "Why did no one remind me to update virus software??" But I'm not a credited gypsy fortune teller so I can not be held accountable for such prognostications.

(Click Click)

Before I did turn on this computer though I was lying in bed listening to the "sleep machine" of noises that apartment living in Spain provides. I spent a summer in Oklahoma and forgot about my Spanish sleep machine. For peaceful dreams on a thermarest bed Americans enjoy such noises as gentle crashing of waves, crickets in orchestra or light breeze on an Autumn night. In Spain, Its straight up legit sleep machines. I hear Mother Tearing into Daughter, Toilets Flushing, Chorus of Coughing, and Sex from the people above you.

This could be status quo for all apartment living. And I'm starting to think so. I'm from Oklahoma. We live in houses. I'm new to this. I had some friends over the other night and after a raptuous game of CaraGalleta ("face cookie" see video below) we stood up and proudly sang Canada's national anthem. Why? Because we have a Canadian friend and he teaches us things about Canada. So in the middle of our salute, there is a sudden banging noise coming from the ceiling. The anti-canadian neighbors above found a broom and made it clear what they wanted. What is it with brooms and getting people to be quiet in apartments? I totally thought that was just in t.v. shows. So do these people keep brooms handy or do they go get one to make their point? What happens if we don't hear the broom? Do they come down?

Apartment living is fine. But I just don't like knowning so much about people's lives. And I also don't like whisper-singing Canada's national anthem. It's just disrespectful in principle.

Here's the video I mentioned above. My friend elena totally dominates at facecookie.

Well its not working Ill post later. Xoxo. Coco.

Confessions of the Foodgirl

I have been effing loving my yogurt this week. Im all like "hey healthy
hipsters right on, yogurt is totally the cats pajamas. I may even throw some trendy oatmeal on this soiree." (for the record I have learned how to say soiree correctly so I'm going to be uber using it to make up for all my half whispered self conscious attempts in the past). Back to yogurt...  I take small pensive bites like on the commercials where you know they are thinking "my waist is shrinking because of this impeccable snack choice." (or they are supposed to think that?). Thats totally what I WAS thinking when I took my smart bites. That is until today when I read the label and realized I've been eating the FULL fat greek yogurt. Those jerks changed the off brand ones to look like the low fat labels and I've been living in a some salubrious delusion. 

Until the next time something colossal happens in my life,
Coco Therese Risch

Soiree soiree soiree.

Ps readers: . I had to start somewhere. Who knew it would be about yogurt traps. Good news though is shoulder pads are back, Arrested development is back and CAMILLES BLOGS ARE kindof BACK!! Can I have a virtual pat on the back? (aka that means a shiny comment present). 

Old People Bully Me

I ran into the grocery store to grab a few things before it and everything closed during the 3-hour middle of the day, ghost town phenomenon that happens everyday in Spain. I will leave my views on efficiency out of this. Sundays, everything is closed. All day. And it is horrible. It has a very apocolyptical feel. I wander the deserted streets wondering where I am going to find sustenance. (Like I am supposed to remember this fact every Saturday and be prepared for Sunday armagedon? Que va!) Anyway, my mother thinks its nice they still respect the  religious tradition of a day of rest. I, on the other hand, think that because the poor procrastinators like myself are forced into fasting, there is nothing religious about it. I actually become quite spiteful and bitchy on Sundays.

Where was this road taking us.... ah yes. Today. I went to the supermarket. I bought 5 five things. Bread, cucumbers, tomatoes, babybell cheese, jamon, and yogurt. Ok, six things. But the small amount that they can easily be held. The woman with two carts filled to the brim was in front of me, along with a million stranded carts. Now, I've had people behind me ask "me puedes pasar?" if they have fewer things than I do, and yes the religious, fasting human being that I am lets the person go first. When I am the person with less things however, I feel like I should be allowed to pass as well. The cycle continues right? I asked the woman and she said, no.

WTF.

Then all of the sudden I feel a sharp jab in my back. I turn around and an old man is growling hastily at me and pointing to one of the carts in betweent the woman and I. He had been off collecting more items to put in his cart. You've got to be kidding me. You want to go first too huh? I immediately was going to tell him "Look, it's not fair for you to abandon you're cart here to to save your spot. If it had worked like that, I would have placed mine here when I arrived and returned when I felt like it!"

My Spanish is not as quick as my English.

I was finger in the air about to say that and the conditional verb conjugations wouldn't remember the fucking dance moves. Hadn't we rehearsed conditional before? Now, go out there and stand your ground verbs! Make Camille proud! But alas, all I said was, "thats not fair." And another spainaird passed me in the check-out line.

I looked at the 18 year old cashier trying to get some sympathy out of him for everything that just happened but it was fruitless. Besides the people behind me were beginning to besiege.

Camille Covers Turmoil in Middle East

Recently I had to cancel (again) my trip to Morocco because of the massive hoopla in the Arab world. For that, I feel its time I dedicate a blog entry to this matter.

First off, I have not kept a Katie Couric eye on the events but I've scanned the AOL 3 second news clips before something about Charlie Sheen comes up. (Because now I can't get enough of his drug). But when I do see news about the unrest in Libya and the Middle East, I immediately find myself cheering for the rebels. I think this is because my American History education has taught me rebels are bad asses and red coats are dumb because they stand out. But I really have no idea who the good guys are and who the bad guys are. If I was watching a movie when I was little, my dad would fill me in on which guys were which. But somehow I can't just ask "Gaddafi is the bad guy right...?" And maybe not every revolution was like ours. However this I wouldn't know because in America we learned that History, is American History. So of course I know that George Washington was Jesus' cousin and the world began in 1776. But about the turmoil in the East, there are countries I've never even heard of yathzee-ing it up. Djibouti? You're a country? I thought you were something I ate with naan. Disculpa, but the truth is I've never claimed to be a current affairs buff. I just merely analyze current events by how they make me feel, what movie I am reminded of or how I can pun around the words. To top things off, sometimes I accidentally say I am from the Middle East instead of the Midwest. If I were you, I would avoid having me on your Trivial Pursuit team. I'm more of a Cranium and MadGab girl. And I can Skip it for like hours.

That is the update. I hope this has been educational.