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Monthly Archives: December 2010

Lambless Christmas :(

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I.  Love.  Lamb.   I drove the 180 miles to Fresno mostly to see my parents but ALSO to eat their lamb, which is what we’ve had for Christmas for years and years and years.  It’s not necessarily traditional Portuguese Christmas fare, but my mom left Portugal at 18, so she pretty much does whatever she wants.  I once dumped a boyfriend because he criticized Christmas lambing; apparently it seemed offensive to him to eat a lamb on the day commemorating the birth of the Lamb of God.  Did he even know what denomination he was?  Not at all.  Bye, guy!!

As I woke this morning, I thought I smelled the lamb.  OOOh boy.  Lamb.
So worth the drive!!  So worth braving the fog, and leaving my cat with food he’s allergic to because I forgot to buy the “good” food and the stores were closed.  I had to leave him something.  Sooooo looking forward to the cleanup Monday….

It's a lamb.

Not only are you lambless, you are a lambless selfish asshole.

My mother asks me to sauté some mushrooms for the meat.  Okay, I think, that’s a little odd for lamb but better than a poke in the eye. Maybe Rachel Ray told her to do it.  That’s not really my mother’s M.O….. but people can riff on their old recipes once in a while.

We sit down to dinner.   The “lamb”  tray spills onto the table.  And my mother says, “Want some Eye of the Round?”  Eye of the Round what?  I smell LAMB!?!?!

No, beef was what’s for dinner.  Did I mention my sense of smell is pretty jacked?  No? Well it is.  And I was eating freaking beef.  Yes, it was delicious.  It wasn’t lamb, though.

I guess it’s lame to complain.  Plenty of people stuck are in the snow.  Or the street.

Feliz Natal!!

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Cancel- Take this!!

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My 25+ person class from the fall has only generated nine people who dared to brave the future subjunctive in Portuguese 1B.

I’m kind of concerned.  I’m pretty sure they need 15 people to get this class off the ground.

What turns people off to continuing?  Is it the effort involved?  The confusion?

it's a pie.

This is for you, douchebag.

The douchebag who sat in the corner making comments like “I’m not going to learn anything anyway,”  when the prof asked him to shut his pie hole while she was teaching??

Not that the prof actually said “Pie Hole.”

But if you are that douchebag, you owe it to us to get five of your douchebag friends and enroll in the class long enough to keep it on the books.  If you don’t do it, I’m coming after you!!

Netflix is for Lovers. Grammar lovers…. not so much!

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I am all about Netflix.

I have a queue of over 500 movies- and 500 is the limit.  I get around this by putting movies that are instant plays on a separate list…. so it’s about 700 movies.  And what do I do? I watch Bones.  And X-Files.  And, wait for it, PSYCH!

I totally have a thing for Gus.

Gus from Psych

Touch me with your nerd love, Gus.

SO I am currently lying here, watching Bones.  Letting the imperfect which I just learned two weeks ago fall out my ear.  Yick.  But dude.  Someone just said the phrase “weird cake sex.”  Totally worth it.  Oops!  I hear the theme music, again.  Next episode, baby!

I wonder if they have any Manoel de Oliveira movies on here.  I probably have some in my queue.  Will I check?

I think you know the answer.

No Final. No Problem.

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So yesterday I go into my teacher’s office hours to pick up my Portuguese 1A final.  And essay about Centro do Brazil.  And ADDITIONAL essay about my house.  Which was mostly about my cat- my apartment is just a mess and I’m not writing an essay that will get me turned into Hoarders!! Shitty cat essay or not, apparently my teacher had received exactly none of these things yet.

“OH NO”, you say.  “OH NO YOU DIDN’T TURN THEM IN TO THE RIGHT SPOT, JERK!”  And you are wrong.  No, our lady at the front desk said it would take her three days to sort out the mail that my professor had been remiss enough to generate by assigning take-home work for the final.    The front desk woman balked at my professor’s insensitivity of her having to sort oodles of  mail.  Clearly labeled mail.  During finals week, when professors most need to pass items back and forth between students they can’t be with 24/7.  When the woman’s job is TO SORT THE INTERNAL MAIL.

And I mention this solely because it reminds me of those awful women who manned (or used to man; it’s been years since I’ve actually been to Portugal) the bathrooms in airports in Portugal and who are complete control freaks about where you stand or your posture in line or the angle at which you reach for your paltry sheet of paper

Don't worry!! We'll get your final one day!

Don't worry, your essay wasn't that crap!

towel afterward.  But whoare essentially useless and certainly not helping the bathroom smell better than a horse stall.   I have a very vivid memory of being completely terrorized by one after a flight as a small child and my mother consoling me with “Don’t worry; that’s the only power she has in her life, let her have it.”  And it’s all better.  Now that I can’t grip my surely red pocked Portuguese final.