A hard day's night

After a difficult day at the office, my husband took me out for falafel and we ended up getting tipsy on martinis at 703.

Difficult completely changes its meaning, when your someone special's got your back.

Just in time for Halloween: Neighbors from hell

So we hate our neighbors.

First, somebody cut off a bunch of branches off the birch trees in our back-yard. Which, would have been totally fine if they didn't just kind of leave them there on the ground and they've been turning into dirt for about 5 months or so. We live on the first floor and now our entire bedroom view constitues of a random mess of fallen tree matter. Nobody seems to intend to clear things out.

Then, there was the teenage girl upstairs who celebrated her parents' going off on vacation by throwing rawdy chalga parties for a week. She would blast her music up until 2 in the morning and have a possy of friends run up and down the stairs ALL NIGHT LONG. We didn't want to complain, because yes, we ARE married but we are NOT LAME. And we could totally relate to her unexpected and short-lived happiness. At some point, however, both Kyle and I had had it and I ran upstairs to tell her to fuckin' turn her music down already. Like, WAY down. Oh, was it loud?!, she asked.

Then, there was the annoying girl who worked in the office right next door. Every time she had to make a phone call, she would take it to the balcony. Our shared balcony, that is. And there she is, yapping away with friends about her evil mother and what not and on the other side...well, there sits my husband, paging a small German edition of Kant's Third Critique. And wondering if he'd get us in too much trouble if he snapped her neck into two.

More recently, we went away and came back and found a piece of shit on our doormat. Yeah, that's right. Shit. As I am investigating, another neighbor walks by and says to me, Yeah. It's shit. A cat walked into the building one night and slept on your doormat. SHE made that poo. Geee, I'm thinking, Thanks for letting me know. Next time, when a stinky drunk person makes their way to YOUR doormat, I will make sure I tell you all about it!!! AFTER I'd brought them more beer.

They ALWAYS STARE at us. I KNOW we are a bit of a novelty around here. I mean, this neighborhood is mostly inhabited by old folks with even older dogs. And here we are: neither old nor pet-equipped. Oh, yeah, and we speak a foreign language to each other most of the time. But come ON, we've lived here for about 5 months now...if you want to know more, just ask. Don't just STARE.

And a couple of days ago we found out that somebody had tried to break into our apartment.

Now, I'm thinking...what are we to do?

1. Talk to the building manager: who has the miraculous ability to only make himself present when it's time to collect the management fees which he then spends on paying the cleaning lady. Which does not sound right to me, mostly because I LIVE in the building and have not once seen "Da Cleaning Lady" or observed the fruits of her labor. Mostly, I smell her absence which seems to materialize in the form of cat-poo on my doormat.

2. Write a note and post it on the building door: and ask our neighbors to please: a) clear out the birch branches from the backyard, b) observe some reasonable quiet hours, c) clean after their smelly pets and d) FUCKING STOP STARING AT US. But, seriously, what kind of response would that trigger?! Somebody will write САМО ЛЕВСКИ on our note and then somebody would correct that to read КУР ЗА ЛЕВСКИ instead. And that would probably be it.

3. We could call the police: but we are people who more or less believe in the principles of liberal democracy which include, but are not limited to allowing people to be total fuckin' assholes as long as that does not infringe on other people's rights to be even bigger assholes, should they desire to do so.

4. Blog about them: in the hope that other people reading this would share more neighbor-from-hell horror stories we could then all laugh about. And then, maybe, together figure out what the best revenge would be.

For now, following through with Option 4 and always making sure we SLAM our door as hard as we can. You can always count on passive aggression to shake things up a little bit, no?

Bulgarian women

Bulgarians think that Bulgarian women are BEAUTIFUL. The physical beauty of our women is a matter of national pride and joy that we like to bring up whenever the opportunity presents itself.

I have never been able to understand why.

I mean, sure, there are beautiful women on the streets. And, of course, I've got the pleasure and privilege to be surrounded by women who take care not only of their physical appearance but also of their spirit. In general, however, I find Bulgarian women ... visually underwhelming.

- Like many Europeans, Bulgarian women do not wash their hair often because they believe that's bad. The result is weakly pony-tails on non-shampoo days and total discomfort for both said pony-tail's owner and their company.

- They match: their bag to their shoes, their belt to their socks, their earrings to their necklaces, their wedding dress to the color of the table cloth. Boring and predictable...yawn, yawn, yawn.

- They often do not understand the idea of appropriate. By which, I do not mean demure or modest. I simply mean appropriate for the occasion. They are dressed too flashy during the day, the skirts are too short, the shirts are too tight, the cleavage is impossible to miss, they wear too much make-up to work...Need I say more?

- They are obsessed with trends and wear what's in. They do not care if they look good in it. Or dare express a little bit of personal taste. If it's in one of the major women's magazines this month, it's gotta be good.

- They mistake skinny for beautiful. The thing is...skinniness is often achieved by over-dieting and/on chain-smoking. Yes, they are skinny but also they are their skin is grey and dry and they mostly look hungry and bitter and miserable.

I care so much about this not because I think of myself as an expert on fashion. Nor am I the fucking fashion police. I care about this because I think it is symptomatic of things deeper and graver that have to do with the way people think and behave. Obsessed with appearances and fake, superficial perfection of no substance whatsoever and such a sad inability to think for themselves...It seriously brings tears to my eyes.

Birth Control for Middle Schoolers

Not sure if you guys heard but Baltimore schools have been making the headlines for prescribing birth-control to middle-schoolers. The decision is questionable mostly because it violates parental rights. But also, some have argued that: a) It encourages premature sex and b) Sex with a 13-year-old isn't just wrong; it's illegal.

The school boards, on the other hand, argue that even if that is the case, they are going to continue doing it, because, HELLO, middle-schoolers ARE HAVING SEX. Also:

1) The schools' job is to protect girls so they can finish their education.
2) Providing the pills doesn't cause more sex.
3) They won't give them to prepubescent kids.
4) They'll report illegal underage sex.
5) Parents still have control, since kids can't use the clinics without a waiver.

Now, I know it's a complicated issue and I shouldn't be too quick to pass judgment...but it seems to me that schools are being held responsible for kids having sex at a younger age...and that just doesn't add up to me.

***

Issue summary via slate.

Yesterday...

When we walked into NDK to check out tiles and kitchen cabinets...it was fall.


When we came out...it was already winter.

Weird Shoes

Every morning I go through a series of complicated decisions that circle around my choice of shoes and then pants or skirt and so on and so forth. It'd be sooo cool to have this kind of shoe:


It'd make my mornings so much less stressful!

via humorpix

Feminists do it better

A couple of researchers at Rutgers have asked if feminism is good for romantic relationships. The conclusion they’ve reached: well yes!

Rudman and Phelan conducted a study of 242 American undergraduates and an online survey of 289 older adults. They looked at the relationship between people’s self-perceived feminism and how healthy their relationships are. Relationship health was measured as “combination of overall relationship quality, agreement about gender equality, relationship stability and sexual satisfaction”. Here’s what they found:

- Having a feminist partner is linked to healthier heterosexual relationships for women.
- Men with feminist partners report both more stable relationships and greater sexual satisfaction.
- Feminism does not predict poor romantic relationships, in fact quite the opposite.

In addition, the authors tested the validity of some all-time favorite stereotypes about feminism. Like, for example, that feminist women are single, lesbian, and sexually unattractive. If these stereotypes are indeed based in some kind of reality, then female survey respondents who self-identified as feminist, would have to be more likely to report themselves as “being single, lesbian, or sexually unattractive, compared to non-feminist women”. Surprisingly enough, the authors found that was not the case.

I know, I know…correlation is not causation…and even though there seems to be a strong statistical correlation between one’s feminism and how happy they are in a relationship, that is by no means a guarantee that it’s their feminism that is leading them into a better relationship. Perhaps, only people of certain psychological dispositions or certain socio-economic backgrounds become feminist and it is those other things that make it more likely for people to end up in better, funner, sexier couple-situations. But still, I am willing to bet that Rudman and Phelan did their stats right. And, confirm what that old t-shirt used to say: FEMINISTS DO IT BETTER.

Still, I feel sad that such a study is still necessary.

Via Feministing

Good things recently

I've been meaning to do this for quite a while now:

1: I now blog for Bulgarian Amica. It's a cosy little space. By women, for women.

2: I have been 100% successful in staying away from my Bloglines account before noon. It really is amazing how much one can get done in just a couple of hours.

3: I have almost completely stopped checking my traffic reports. I learn interesting/funny things about my readers when I do check, but I realized that I had actually started to fall into the whole popularity trap...Was almost starting to confuse traffic with quality, which, let's be honest...is pretty pathetic.

4: My workplace and I...we've fallen in love all over again.

5: When I start to feel a little tired, I spritz a little bit of kiehl's rosewater on my face. It wakes me up immediately and smells SOOO nice!!!

What have you been up to? Give us all an update!!!

The mind of women

Seinfeld: I know I will never be able to understand how a woman can take boiling hot wax, pour it on her upper thigh and rip the hair out by the root, and still be afraid of a spider.

via my friend Ayesha, from Bahrain who totally rocks!

Last minute

Prof. Grady and I are having a last-minute discussion of what else he should bring from the States when he flies home next week:

Me: Babe, not sure if you have room in your bags with all my last minute requests...but you should think about bringing some stuff that you really crave.
Prof. Grady: Yeah, I guess. It's hard to think of those things when i'm here!
Me: Well...how about those beans we can never find in Bulgaria?
Prof. Grady: Black beans?
Me: Yeah. Bring a little bit and we'll only eat them when you're homesick.
Prof. Grady: Or foodsick...(pause)...Wait, no, that's something else.

A couple of minutes later:

Me: On my way back, my bag was too heavy and I had to take stuff out of my suitcase and put it in my carry-on.
Prof. Grady: Oh NO!!!
Me: Yeah. Too many fashion magazines.

I miss my husband.

Minis from the 60s and 70s

Just found a fabulous image collection of women in mini skirts from the 60s and 70s.



I love this one particular moment of fashion not so much for its aesthetics but for the sense of fun and freedom it has come to represent. I so wish I could say the same thing about the way women wear clothes today...

Jetlagged but resolute

Jetlag haunted me last night. I was tired but restless and could not fall asleep until 6.30 AM. Today I am skating on thin ice and hope the day is over before I create a major mess at the office. I am mostly unproductive but this strange state of zombiance is making me really look forward to a great day at the office tomorrow. I will work better and compensate for my utter inadequacy today.

Also, I thought I would take this moment of travel induced trance and make the following three resolutions that I KNOW will change my life (personal AND professional) for the better:

1. No browsing until noon, Monday through Friday.
2. Site traffic checks only once a day.
3. Get up at 8.30 each morning.

My new rules are simple but I do think that sticking with them will make a huge difference in how well I make my way through the day. I will keep you posted on how it goes. Now, I will go get me some water. Hydrate, hydrate! You too!!!

UPDATE on each resolution:

1. Did NOT browse until noon. Definitely helped me put my day in order and get on with things faster than usual. Should keep it up.
2. Too early to say. Have only look at the stats just once today, though.
3. Well...sort of...but not really.

Converted

Since I wrote about our honeymoon travel plan falling through, people have been sending me concerned emails, asking if we were OK. Yes, we are, thank you for asking.

And here's what happened:

Like I already mentioned, we had planned to spend a couple of days in Philadelphia, then rent a car and drive through Indiana and see Brooke in Bloomington, then stop over at St. Louis to hang out with Kyle's mom and her husband Tom, and then we were going to drive South to Memphis to see Dr. J and Sewanee. We were going to end up in New Orleans.

We reserved a car with Budget online and headed over to their office bright and early on Saturday morning. The guy behind the desk was friendly enough and rather than chatting us up went straight to business and proceeded to enter our personal information into their data system. Company policy. Everything was going just fine until he asked for our credit card. Kyle handed him a debit card, when the guy said (not-so-nicely, may I add) that he needed a CREDIT card, not a debit card. Had something to do with the company's trying to cover their ass in case of car-theft something or other. OK, credit card, we said. And handed him our credit card. He refused to accept it.

See...HE needed a driver's license AND a credit (not debit) card that were both in the same name. What WE had was a driver's license and a debit card in Kyle's name and TWO credit cards in my name. The fact that we had more money in our debit card then in our two credit cards combined did not matter. The fact that we were fuckin' married did not matter. The fact that we offered to leave a cash security deposit did not matter. The fact that we had rented a car from Budget using Kyle's driver's license and a debit card just last summer when we were in Califordnia did not seem to matter AT ALL. There were company policies to be followed and data fields to be entered into "The Computer System" and thus no car to be rented to the Kirilova-Grady crew. Bummer.

So things fell through and we were so shocked by what happened that, honestly, could not even get mad about it. What we did was storm into a Starbucks and get ourselves a room in a hotel that served our breakfast in bed each morning (bagels and coffee and fresh fruit and all). What was one to do, you know...We had to make the most of it.

As we were leaving the Budget office that morning, though:

Prof. Grady: You know...THAT could never happen in Bulgaria!!!
Me: Why, what do you mean?
Prof. Grady: In Bulgaria there's ALWAYS another way around.

My husband...I think he's been converted.

When plans fail

The thing is...our travel plans fell through. The sucky part about that is we have stood up a lot of people AND it will be a while before we get to stay in an awesomely bad motel out in the middle of Indiana like we'd planned. The GOOD thing about it is that we are finally BOTH in Philadelphia (for a little while that was not the case, courtesy of U.S. Airways who lost ME and then lost MY BAG) and are staying until
Saturday.

Philly is a lot like Sofia, I think. Old and beautiful but run-down at places. With lots of great bars and restaurants and shops AND a serious inferiority complex. When people find out we are here on our honeymoon, we get the exact same reaction we get in Sofia when we tell them we live in Bulgaria. It goes something like, Oh! Wow! WHY?!?!?!?!

So, not having made any plans for things to do in Philadelphia, we are spending our time doing the one thing we hardly ever have the time to do in Sofia: relaxing. It's breakfast in bed and then walking around the city and then lunch and coffee and a little bit of work or shopping and meeting up with friends for dinner and then drinks, of course. It is fantastic. We are hanging out with Ashley
and got to see Clay and visited the creepiest museum I've ever been to...disturbingly informative, oh, yes.

I am telling you all this because I think we all tend to get really wrapped up into the plans we make. We try to stay on top of things and plan ahead and research and double-check and reconfirm and then hold our breath as we watch our plans unveil. Our sort-of-failed trip, however, is showing me that when plans fail to go through, they open up the space for other things...and then there's no pressure nor anxiety nor disappointment. You just take things as they come and enjoy them for what they really are.

Hugs and kisses from one happy honeymooner.