Mala Cara

Yes hello hi. I will write something. Jot something down. Just so you know I am alive. I do remember my password to this thing. Unimportant tidbits are still happening around me. I am just not very consistent about recording my tidbits. But here's to trying!

Ready steady go!

(Oh yes, that's right. Another example how I have been british-brainwashed. I stay "steady" insteady of "set". Even my childhood game announcement has been affected by the perfect Queen's English. I speak a really weird dialect. Its american english with british influence peppered with Spanish words when I have forgotten the english translation. (Today I had to ask my sister what that game was called where the children go under the bar without touching it. Limbo. Yes correct. Also the current life phase I am in.) 

So turning to.....

I am feeling quite manic today. Why? Because I become schitzo when I have too much caffeine and don't have my kindle on long bus rides. I life think. And I life think hard. The topic always comes back to the flashing expiration date of my time here and the realization that I have nothing planned after that. Bahhhh where is that damn sorting hat! Lifethink can be such a grano en el culo! (pain in the ass. Although literal translation is, pimple on the butt). Perfect time to blog it out of my memory. (Harharhar). 

I will pack up this computer and take it to a cafe so I can get some work down. This is my standard line. I typically add that I never get anything done at home. And then que pasa? (what happens). I lug this wretched thing there, prowl around for an outlet, scare them with my monster electrical converter, get shit set up, order my coffee, and then open facebook. Five minutes later I declare the FB Boycott. And I begin my "work". First a neat to-do list. I look super studious from the outside by the way. The work though never seems to fully get done. Probably because the screen is either on a website describing menus from the world's top restaurants or one on how to craft old mittens into minature stuffed animals. 

And then two hours later, after the waiter has silently declared me a pimple on his butt for ordering three coffees, american sized with fat free milk, I decide to abandon the life-search and go back home. And by go back home I mean, run into friends in the street and go for wine and tapas. 

Rewind. Repeat Cycle. Title it: Camille Plans Her Life.

Maybe I'm making it sound as if my life isn't stressful at all. As if it's only filled with excursions and tapas. But I want to let you know, that like Patrick Risch in the Hospital World, I have chaos too. Today at school I re-taught prepositions because the children had forgotten them!! Then... laminated seaweed bookmarks we had made, revised pen pal letters, taught first graders how animal sounds, played limbo with 8 three year olds in a private class (and called it English) and finally came home to some past subjunctive Spanish homework and galletas. Let's be honest, it would be nice if once in a while I could be surrounded with hot colleague surgeons and be involved in scandalous affairs and sensational gossip to escape my demanding routine. (I ignore when this reference is repeatedly refuted. I really want to believe it is Greys. I just can't not imagine a hospital with out bombs embedded in patients, sex in closets, and surgeons fighting for never before done surgeries.)

So that is that. I think I have successfully updated once again about nothing much worth updating about. Spain is still great. The Spanish are still great. Still direct. In fact here's the funny tidbit for today: One of the first teachers I saw today asked me if I was OK and told me I had "mala cara." In English this would be asking if someone was sick by saying "Oh you don't look so good.". But it directly translates to "You have a bad face." I'm not even sick today! But apparently I came to school with a bad face. 

Tragedy Strikes Girl Trying to Make Lunch

Without being too dramatic, (OHMYGODOHMYGODOHMYGOD)

an egg just exploded in my face!!!!!!

Here's how it happened.

Recently when I've been boiling eggs (I eat alot of boiled eggs, egg salad, deviled eggs, etc) the shells have been refusing to come off. It is a meticulous task to peel an egg millimeter by millimeter and I have been going just straight up nuts. I get frustrated and then rip the shells off and realize I have lost have the egg white. I've tried lots of tricks, adding vinegar to the water when they're boiling, cracking the eggs immediately after draining the boiling water etc. So today I was not in the mood for this stupid shell business so I underboiled my eggs.... on purpose. Then they peeled like a charm and I was as happy as a clam but I knew the yolk wasn't fully cooked so I did what any logical technology dependant person would do, I put them in the microwave.

Then they started making a weird noise.

So I open the door....

Peer in at my three precious eggs....

And I touch one of them.

and POP!

Egg in my face. Eyes burning. I thought I was going blind. We always think this when something unexpected gets in our eyes. It's probably true that we do much more damage by sprinting to the bathroom and drowning our eyes in water until they are red and puffy and egg free. Anyway this is definitely my scariest egg tragedy yet. Yes, even more traumatic then the feather incident. As a result I have skiddishly devoured a bag of cashews. 

This is where I should stop. But now I can't. Apparently if you type into google image search "nervous squirrel eating nut" this will be one of the photos:



And this one too.



Could it really be squirrels have an affinity for wheeled citizens??
I leave you with this inspirational thought.

This was written at around 7 a.m.

 It's Saturday morning. I can't sleep in when I drink too much the night before. So I am going to tell about a typical yet strange situation that happens to me. It is that when I open Facebook at this hour and I read people's posts about going out for their Friday night in America, I feel like I. am. the. future. Immediately I want to tell them, No, don't check in at Brewskies Bar. Take back that picture of your fancy cocktail. Don't tag your friends. Stop with the exclamation marks about it being Friday night. Stop stop stop. I am feeling your bad decisions you are making right now. I am regret. I am future.

It could be the obvious fog I am in right now, but I think I am getting tripped out by time difference. Is this happening? It's just so damn bizarre that the sun is rising in one place and people are sleeping in another. The world is spinning? My mind is spinnin! Such mind has never super apt at grasping sciency things. Or mathy things. Or square dancy things. To be completely honest, if I had been around when they were claiming the world wasn't flat, I would have totally laughed in their face. You idiot look at the ocean! The horizon is that line there and once you reach it you will fall off!

I think Future Camille needs some more sleep. I am sharing way too much. Everyone is going to figure out that I really have no idea how the world works. The moon pulls the waves??? There is a fireball in the center of the earth?? Where do you people get these sensational ideas!? That's why you guys are my friends. I like all your crazy thoughts. I like you weirdos.



My topics should be a little more pre-meditated. I just realized I blogged about looking at Facebook with a side of Science skepticism. I am 100% sure I will look back on this and be like Que coño estaba pensando!" (What the fuck was I thinking? Actually "coño" is vagina. So that's "what the vagina was I thinking". Spanish is way more creative with cuss words).

To make the blog better I will add a couple pictures from Dia de la Paz. Peace day. At ma' school.

At this point you have to be thinking... Coño! Can it get any cuter? Three children hugging beneath a parachute??! And it does.

We released a dove as the grand finale.

Ta-da. Now go in.....

xoxo-coco

You know when there's not much in your kitchen to make dinner with but you scratch together a meal anyway?

I make blog today.


It's basically about nothing. But if you are already reading this you might as well continue. Facebook won't miss you. I've been quite homesick for some good ol' amurican food lately. My mouth waters when I think about beef fajitas or the grilled chicken salad from Mahylons in Muskogee. And if someone were to say the word "bacon crumbles" to me right now, I would book the next flight home. 


On to my current crisis though. I left my water bottle at school today. This may seem like something on firstworldpains but this is quite dire. I don't know if I can make it until tomorrow without water. What? No, I only drink from this one water bottle. It squeezes perfectly into my mouth and water tastes better when it comes from it. Don't call me a little girl. I am a niña. Y quiero mi botella damnit. 


The good news about today was that I had three packages waiting for me at the post office. Also good news was that I had asked my mom for socks and she sent me 13 pairs. Sock on that, cold spanish winter. I was only able to pick up two of the boxes though because the third one I had to pay a tarifa on and believe it or not, the Spanish postal service only accepts cash. What year are we in Spain? Did the conquistadors bring this parcel on horseback all the way from the Americas? I swear. I pay for 50 cent gum in the States with my credit card and it is not a mortal sin. But Spain is not America. Thank god. 


I do love Spain. I love it alot. I love politely waiting in the post office line to be cut off by three people who only have "preguntitas". Well I only have a little question too. And that is, what is the point of taking numbers again? It's because they were all better dressed than me. My friend has a theory that is inconsequentially true, it is that better dressed people have the upperhand. Yes we already know this, but for example if you are on a narrow Spanish sidewalk coming home from the gym and a woman in her fur coat is walking towards you and there is obviously no room for both of you to fit, who steps aside? You better believe you're sweaty little nike self is the one to scoot.


Watch out when they come in threes too. 





I must note that on the day that I am the shnauzier one I notice that the people step aside for me. So it isn't ethnicity selective. Just quality of clothing. Business suits will always bulldoze you. Fact. I've had a few near encounters with almost being run over that still give me nightmares.


Other fact, older Spanish people love to wear their coats on their shoulders. Me hacen mucha gracia. I don't know why. I always think, aren't you worried it will fall? Why not just wear a blanket? Target has great micro-fleece blankets! 







Off to spin class. Then to study for a spanish exam that's going to kick my culo to cuba. I'm going to try and write more and something a little more riveting next time. Os prometo. Love. Coco.

Ok! I will address this SOPA business

I always know there's something brewing in the States when everyone stops posting about OU football and cold weather to post about the same subject. (I will not confirm that Facebook is my news source). (I swear I read the news, but I've been busy! It's sales season in Spain and I started Spanish classes!) Anyway, the point I want to make is that  you know its big news when Jim Risch updates his facebook status to write about it. So I thought, ooook USA what the fuck is this soup thing about? Sopa in espanol means soup. Since I live in Spanglish, I can't read that word and not think soup. So I am just going to refer to this as "the soup thing."  So without furtherer do, I give my thoughts.

Facebook My current news source, was providing extremely limited information on what the soup thing actually IS.. (You've told me a million times that there IS soup, but please tell me what kind of soup it is!) So I had to change outlets..... to Wikipedia, my internet best friend. You know when you are embarrassed to ask someone a question because they could shout out "Oh my god guys guess what Camille just asked me!!" Wikipedia would never betray my trust. He's like your humble intelligent friend. I search sea urchins, I search tabbouleh, I search meercat. So right, I like Wikipedia. I am actually becoming stupider in person because I can't stop a conversation to look something up. (I am one of the few people without an iphone). But no, I'm not resentful that I have to make flashcards at home with random info before going to the bar and hope that is the trivia to be touched upon. Iphones are so overrated.

Anyway.................................

You can only imagine my stupefaction when my best friend tells me that the a Republican senator from Texas is trying to kill him. Well I may have been persuaded over at first by the cute name, but hell to the no, will any soup kill my internet friend. Sopa de mierda is what it sounds like to me.

That's kind of all I have to say on this.

You may think that I have just hoola-hooped around this issue and not actually said anything at all except that I found out that it exists. And then you may be right. But I like to feel that I am addressing political issues sometimes. I don't want anyone to get the idea that I live over here and just drink vino and explain the food pyramid in English. That would be quite the misconception, my friends. Soup thing - done. Give me another topic.

Fortune cookies don't get me anymore

I wore heels today. And while sitting at my computer drooling over Anthropologie shoes reading thought provoking articles about healthcare and Republicans and caucuses (SUCH A FUNNY WORD!!), I realized my foot had fallen asleep. So what did I do? I stood up to revive the damn thing. And then...... I fell down. Well well well, I took those cussing heels off and put them where they belong! In the back of my closet. With some hat I thought I could pull off but couldn't. (People with small hair can't wear hats). (If you have small hair or friends with small hair, please don't fall victim to the temptation of a cute fedora).

 I sometimes wonder what my life is going to be like when I have a real job. Will straightening my hair and then straightening the shirt I'm wearing still be allowed as ironing? Ironically, while I have no "time" to iron, I do have time to chase the cat around the house and lecture it about how rude it is to steal someone's barbque chicken leg off their plate. (Although Spanish cats have no idea that barbeque sauce is a rare comodity here,  this cat is super bitch.) Point being, my life probably isn't too strenuous right now. I am busy, but there's always time to chastize cats and accidentally lose a cork and then finish the bottle. And thennnn blog!

(If you didn't notice already, I also could have combined "ironing" and the following word "ironically" to be more time efficient but I decided to take the time to write both out. Realistically no one would understand me if I were to write in true Camillism. Hardly anyone speaks it these days.)

I am accepting any ideas that you may have about what I should do next year. I opened a fortune cookie the other day and it told me I was going to blossom in my social life. Maybe a girl in China accidentally got the cookie I was supposed to get. Something about finally getting to work rather than socializing. I swear fortune cookies just don't get me anymore. (Now that my dad doesn't read them aloud to me. "You're good friend Hailey will go to Big Splash with you tomorrow and you will thank your parents by being calm on the ride to and from Tulsa.")

Other news.... hm..... I recently had a cooking failure. Turns out ground beef is a crucial ingredient to your typical stuffed eggplant recipe. Since I didn't have this and had a feeling it was pretty important, I started getting wild with the creativity. I threw in all kinds of things, ginger, garlic, tomato sauce, chorizo. I was for sure that as unhealthy as I had made these babies they had to turn out good. Wrong. They were horrendous and I'm pretty sure the eggplant was offended I stuffed it with such garbage. So I had milk and cookies and contempled the ratio of calories burned at spin class to eating lots of mediocre weird food. I think I lose.

"When do you win? When you spin!" (And not gorge yourself on trashfood). That's my mantra for this year.

And that is that. I think I have nothing more to say right now. 

This morning I found an egg with feathers on it.

I couldn't do it. I just couldn't crack it. Do you realize how fragile of an American consumer I am? If I were to know that my egg scrambler is actually created with embryos of baby chicks I may crack. Oh god. I'm thinking about it now. Why did I have to see those feathers? Can you sue for this in America? I think so. Im pretty sure you can sue for anything now. Your honor, "fluffy eggs" has a completely different conotation for me now. I am ruined.

Do you remember on The Truman Show when Jim Carey's boat hits the wall of the sky and he realizes his world is nothing like it seemed? Ok, good. Now imagine how Camille felt when she found out what pigskins were. I thought that was just a cute name. No one told me!!

However as I noted in a previous post (which I know everyone of you read) I am now a bad ass sea food eater. Living in Spain has been enlightening for a little foodie like myself. And by that I mean, I have started to be click in to the truman show world that American eaters live in. Don't worry I am not referencing any of those radical documentaries about Bigmacs and what not. (I haven't even see them!) I explain in short lines below because I lazy.

American: Pork

Spainard: Cerdo (Pig)

American: Beef

Spainard: Vaca (Cow)

This is especially humorous to me when a waiter wants to practice their English  and I am asked "You want cow or pig?"

It is definately not uncommon to see this here: (He looks to happy for what's about to happen to him...)

*Manitos literally translates to "little hands". How would you like your little pig hands cooked?

But I just don't understand. Why do we like to live in oblivion? Why is de-boning fish so bad? Although it was weird to aclimate myself, I think its much healthier to be cognizant like the Spainards. They know what they are eating. They know what pig skins are. They know what eggs are. They don't know what twinkies are. But neither do we.

How much do we love NPR? So much right? Well here is a cool article they recently aired about food trends in 2012 and not only are we going back more organic of course, but we will use every part of the animals we eat! (Don't doubt NPR).  

I've been invited to several "matazas" (pig killings). Apparently it's like a celebration for the whole pueblo and afterwards there's a big feast. (Cover your vegetarian friends' ears). I have politely declined the invitations claining I don't know if I have the stomach for it (which is totally true). Now here's the clencher. I could go. But the result will either be  a) I am exposed to too much real life (and macabre) that I dive into a vegan cult or b) I eat chorizo and have a great story.

Side note:

After copying and pasting this picture, I switched my music to a rap mix without thinking about it. (Bitches n' Rims). Then I realized, I never really see black people here. I miss  my diverse America. We are so damn colorful. And they dominate the rap world. White people just look stupid rapping. Stupid eminen.

Yum m&ms..... no, swimsuit, bridesmaid dresses, gym.... no m&ms.....

Those are my thoughts for Tuesday. De nada.