Just what I needed

Oh my goodness, I just checked my reader and I found that I got a big link from Unfogged.  Do I look ok?

It’s been a couple weeks since I posted, and it’s because I’ve been slammed, nay, slizzammed, at work.  Next week our office is moving, so we have to get ahead for that.  The following week, I’m traveling home to Seattle (and Las Vegas) for some family time, so we have to get ahead for that.  The week after that, L has the week off for T&N’s wedding, so we have to get ahead for that.

So do all the math, and basically we had five days to publish five weeks of lessons.  Oh, and I had to write some text for a grammar guide.  Oh, and I had to write some text for a placement test.  Oh, and let’s have a marketing meeting.  Anything else? Oh the backdrop:  internet is in and out every ten minutes.

Anyway, the result was that I’ve been pulling some long days, asking the team to work until they are crispy fried.  Actually, it kind of felt like having to grades in for a report card.

Anyway, forget that.  Last weekend N found a couple of tickets to his school’s fancy black-tie optional auction at a five star hotel, so A and I put on the best clothes and went for dinner.  I wouldn’t have gone under normal circumstances, as I always hated having to schmooze with my students’ filthy rich parents.  But A was excited about a night of glamor, and of course I wanted to see N, who was working as the auctioneer’s wing man.  N was great.  Dinner was great.  And since I don’t work there, the parents couldn’t schmooze me.  Best of all words.

This week was crispy fried week at work, as I described above.  After work on Friday I was worthless, but instead of the comfort eating and going to bed early that I would have done after turning in grades, I met the gang at Big Bamboo for a pint of Guinness and something called the chicken Cordon Bleu schnitzle.  I would not lie to you about that.  A and I went to a foot massage after that (my massage crush #68 was working on someone else when I walked in, and I had to remind myself not to be jealous), and after that we went to a cozy bar the size of a hallway for some cocktails made by some meticulous Japanese bartenders.  I am under orders not to give out information about this bar. So I won’t. Seriously.

So yesterday I went into work in the morning, got some stuff done, but not as much as I wanted, because seriously the internet is in and out every ten minutes.  My internet at home is not normal as well; I’m not sure whether to suspect crummy infrastructure or government meddling.

I went to my jazz ensemble; they’ve scheduled us for a recital on Saturday, but I’m not sure if we’ll be able to do it, due to people’s personal schedules, and at least one emergency visa run to HK.  We’ll see.

So for some reason the pharmacies are not giving me hydrochlorothyazide, they tell me I need a prescription.  That didn’t stop them last time, but I’ve been to three pharmacies now, and they all refuse to give it to me.  Go to a hospital and get a prescription, they say.  Do you want my American prescription?  No.  So I have to take a day off of work to pay for a doctor’s appointment who will want to run tests and ask me about diabetes and high blood pressure and focosegmental glomerular sclerosis and then, in a week or two when everything is done, they will issue me a script for a little bottle of pills that costs about a dollar.  Screw that.  I’d rather have high blood pressure than go through all that.  And what do the pharmacists say in response?  Meh.  They don’t care.  They stopped caring when I asked for the bottle in the first place.  I’ll have to run to the Philippines to get blood pressure pills.  Good excuse.

Yesterday was E’s surprise party.  We all dressed up in disguises and showed up at the Basque clubhouse.  My disguise was my fake mustache.  Oh yah.  There was tortilla de patata, tuna salad on crackers, little skewers of anchovies, green olives, and quail eggs; lox, a big paellera full of fideos and chopped squid, toped with aioli; and chuleta, which was beef tenderloin that was just seared on the outside and raw on the inside and delicious on a piece of bread.  There was dancing, fire crackers, and a crazy scene on the sidewalk of locals peering into the window, which later became a crazy amazing drunk carousel of languages.  I am not what it means yet, but I’ve been assured that I’m somebody’s tottero.

When I got home around 2am, I noticed that I had BSG season 4 episode 2 ready to watch.  Just what I needed.

Just so you all know, I am the final Cylon.