So, i have not been posting very much because vodafone has been making my head spin demonically around 360 degrees the past few weeks, but recently we broke up, and i switched to mts and i have never been happier. i hope that vodafone is listening to sad breakup songs and eating cinnamon rolls and getting fat because i'm never coming back! NEVERRRRRRRRRR!!!!!!!!!!! i'm in a much better relationship now, but i don't want to speak too soon, cause you never know. mts could turn out to have a dark secret or a dungeon or something.
but what i reallly wanted to talk about in this blog post was how my reading list has become to reflect my true life recently in a frightening way that i don't like. and i wanted to reveal it to everyone, just in case my life becomes a children's novel/scary story where everything i read starts to happen in real life and then i wake up to find that the pigeons have become elephants and my apartment buildiing falls down blah blah blah
SO: BOOK ####1
This is an image shamelessly taken from google images and before you all begin to jump to conclusions that india has made me into a ruthless killer, i would like to notify you that.... india has made me into a ruthless killer!!!! but not of innocent iowan families - instead i kill any living creature (that is not human) i find in my apartment indiscriminately. and ruthlessly. and sometimes with my fist. this happened yesterday when i found a "beetle" (its not a beetle, but i call them that to help me cope - its a coping mechanism) scurrying out from underneath my vegetable basket. the fist of death descended. then a very vigorous hand washing session occurred.
also, my new "used" fridge has some "beetles" too. inside. sick. so i did what any normal person would do and got a huge can of poison from the store and sprayed the entire thing into any nook or crevice i could find in that baby. i saw the fruits of my labor the next morning when some little guys had tried to run for their lives and conked out, but unfortunately, the battle still continues.
the past week i have accidentally left a very small window open in my bathroom and a pigeon got in and BOY are pigeon nervous-poopers. because that pigeon was not having a good time. he/she knocked over everything in my bedroom, pooped all over my bed, and fridge, and shed all its feathers. i haven't found it yet in my grand total of 2 rooms, so its either a really good hider or it found its way out. needless to say, i shut the window.
i never thought that my killer tendancies would spread to birds. i like birds, i love them, i think they are cute. even pigeons. once when i was 12 in london, i let poop covered rats of the sky land all over my body in trafalger square and even tempted them on to my head with sour cream and onion pringles. but now our relationship has changed. they have pooped on my pink-camo sleeping bag. they have spawned a running total of 6 new lives on my balconies. there are 2 nests and my ledges are pigeon-baby-making factories. sometimes i feel like i'm intruding. i don't know what to do. i can't smash the eggs, i just can't. i'm not there yet, and when they are freshly hatched they look like ducks which are cuter than pigeons so i forgive them.
but something has to change. i'm thinking of creating multiple scarecrows to put on all my balconies, but i know i would wake up and freak out that my apartment is surrounded by intruders.
ok, now book #2
This is the other one and it represents my most recent thanksgiving here in India. I discovered BUTTER. not ghee. but a huge hunk of salty fattening butter that i purchased at the store when i was shopping with nicole for our thanksgiving feast. not blood or bones because people don't reallly eat those things very much here, but butter, ohhhhhhhh yes.
as we fixed our thanksgiving feast of chai masala pumpkin mousse, stovetop stuffing, eggplant parm, and mashed potatoes, topppped off with a chocolate cake, we slathered pieces of white bread with slabs of butter and felt american. i realized after reading this book, and also using multiple seasons of top chef as another coping mechanism here, that anyone can be a chef really. its not that hard. you just use copious quantities of butter and cream and most anything will taste good. even strange hunks of bread, maggi noodle boullion, and some sauteeed carrots and onions. once you put a massive wad of butter in there, you suddenly have stuffing!
so hurrah!
thanksgiving = complete and total success. we were stuffed, we laid down on the floor as we loosened our salwars (which is WAY worse than loosening your average typical pants because most salwars are one size fits all anyway, so if you are loosening it, welllllllllllll.........).
so basicly this blog post is to notify everyone in cyber space that i am currently loving butter, and killing apartment invaders ruthlessly with both my fist and poison.
love you all!
i will write more soon.
but what i reallly wanted to talk about in this blog post was how my reading list has become to reflect my true life recently in a frightening way that i don't like. and i wanted to reveal it to everyone, just in case my life becomes a children's novel/scary story where everything i read starts to happen in real life and then i wake up to find that the pigeons have become elephants and my apartment buildiing falls down blah blah blah
SO: BOOK ####1
This is an image shamelessly taken from google images and before you all begin to jump to conclusions that india has made me into a ruthless killer, i would like to notify you that.... india has made me into a ruthless killer!!!! but not of innocent iowan families - instead i kill any living creature (that is not human) i find in my apartment indiscriminately. and ruthlessly. and sometimes with my fist. this happened yesterday when i found a "beetle" (its not a beetle, but i call them that to help me cope - its a coping mechanism) scurrying out from underneath my vegetable basket. the fist of death descended. then a very vigorous hand washing session occurred.also, my new "used" fridge has some "beetles" too. inside. sick. so i did what any normal person would do and got a huge can of poison from the store and sprayed the entire thing into any nook or crevice i could find in that baby. i saw the fruits of my labor the next morning when some little guys had tried to run for their lives and conked out, but unfortunately, the battle still continues.
the past week i have accidentally left a very small window open in my bathroom and a pigeon got in and BOY are pigeon nervous-poopers. because that pigeon was not having a good time. he/she knocked over everything in my bedroom, pooped all over my bed, and fridge, and shed all its feathers. i haven't found it yet in my grand total of 2 rooms, so its either a really good hider or it found its way out. needless to say, i shut the window.
i never thought that my killer tendancies would spread to birds. i like birds, i love them, i think they are cute. even pigeons. once when i was 12 in london, i let poop covered rats of the sky land all over my body in trafalger square and even tempted them on to my head with sour cream and onion pringles. but now our relationship has changed. they have pooped on my pink-camo sleeping bag. they have spawned a running total of 6 new lives on my balconies. there are 2 nests and my ledges are pigeon-baby-making factories. sometimes i feel like i'm intruding. i don't know what to do. i can't smash the eggs, i just can't. i'm not there yet, and when they are freshly hatched they look like ducks which are cuter than pigeons so i forgive them.
but something has to change. i'm thinking of creating multiple scarecrows to put on all my balconies, but i know i would wake up and freak out that my apartment is surrounded by intruders.
ok, now book #2
This is the other one and it represents my most recent thanksgiving here in India. I discovered BUTTER. not ghee. but a huge hunk of salty fattening butter that i purchased at the store when i was shopping with nicole for our thanksgiving feast. not blood or bones because people don't reallly eat those things very much here, but butter, ohhhhhhhh yes.as we fixed our thanksgiving feast of chai masala pumpkin mousse, stovetop stuffing, eggplant parm, and mashed potatoes, topppped off with a chocolate cake, we slathered pieces of white bread with slabs of butter and felt american. i realized after reading this book, and also using multiple seasons of top chef as another coping mechanism here, that anyone can be a chef really. its not that hard. you just use copious quantities of butter and cream and most anything will taste good. even strange hunks of bread, maggi noodle boullion, and some sauteeed carrots and onions. once you put a massive wad of butter in there, you suddenly have stuffing!
so hurrah!
thanksgiving = complete and total success. we were stuffed, we laid down on the floor as we loosened our salwars (which is WAY worse than loosening your average typical pants because most salwars are one size fits all anyway, so if you are loosening it, welllllllllllll.........).
so basicly this blog post is to notify everyone in cyber space that i am currently loving butter, and killing apartment invaders ruthlessly with both my fist and poison.
love you all!
i will write more soon.
