Which Wig Will I Wear?

Friday Night: WIG (or facial hair) Themed Bar Hop

We like wigs. And fake facial hair.

Friday night Ashbloem and Co. are organizing a Boston bar hop where we will party it up incognito. I can't decide between my fabulous pink bob, my hip blonde afro or my tame brown tresses. But while I ponder my dilemma, I thought I would put together a little Ode to the Wigs, and Other Hair Accessories (hats, crowns, flowers) of parties past...



I am sure I'll have lots of fun pictures to post on Monday!

Travel Don'ts

I've talked a lot in this blog, and shared many a photo, of places I have enjoyed visiting over the years, like Venice, Cinque Terre, Rome, London, Prague, Brugge, Oslo, Kenya, and of course Amsterdam (1, 2, 3, 4, 5). But I haven't spoken so much about places I have not enjoyed.

Thankfully the list is short:

Mexico City
Milan
Athens
Tampa
Manila
Cancun
Mestre

Let's talk about Mexico City. MC, one of the world's 24 "megacities" (I just learned this term, and I like it), comes second in population only to Tokyo at an astounding 22,350,000 inhabitants in the MC metro area. Compare that to Boston's paltry 5.8 million! The city is HUGE. And DIRTY. MC is situated in a little valley between mountain ranges and volcanoes which trap polution over the city. You can actually feel yourself breathing in all the carbon monoxide and poluted crap.

But what bothers me most about MC is that I don't feel safe there. When I travel, I usualy am on my own. If I am traveling with a companion or group of friends, I still value time on my own pounding the pavement getting to know my destination. But Mexico City just isn't safe enough to do this, especially if you are a woman. Wikipedia confirms this:

Violent crime is also a major concern; in 2003 Mexico had the second-highest number of kidnappings in the world, with some 3,000 reported cases. In taxis, a particular problem has arisen; individuals are sometimes kidnapped by unauthorized taxi drivers, in order to empty their bank accounts at ATMs. Victims are sometimes kept overnight in order to bypass daily withdrawal limits. Inside other transportation, mostly microbuses, pickpocketing is still a common activity, and Mexico City inhabitants take various levels of precaution to avoid being victims of this.

Now I am no Nervous-Nellie when it comes to rough-and-tumble places, but my Mexican friends and colleagues have warned me enough times for me to take their cautionary advice seriously. If anyone knows the real deal, they would. The don'ts they have laid out for me:

• Don't walk by yourself
• Don't take the metro by yourself
• Don't take the bus by yourself
• Don't hail a cab by the street (make the hotel call one for you)
• Don't leave your hotel room unlocked

The above list in combination with the rampant polution makes me feel completely stifled there. In my last job, I used to have to go two or three times a year for work. Thankfully I am off that project now.

But the worst experience I ever had there was this...

Since I am too afraid to go off on my own while in MC, often I feel tethered to the hotel in which I am staying. On one particular trip my company had put me up in a sub-standard business class hotel. On the outside it looks OK enough, and the service and food were pretty good. But what I didn't realize until I checked into my room was how thin the walls were. You could hear everything going on next door.

Two business men were sharing the room next to mine (I saw them in the hallway earlier that day). They stayed up very late watching TV and talking loudly, which in turn kept me awake since I am a pretty light sleeper. I passed the time quietly reading my book. Finally around 2am they turned off the TV. I decided to stay awake just a little bit longer to finish the chapter I was reading. And then I heard a very strange noise.

Now, get your mind out of the gutter. I recognized the noise immediately, but was incredulous. No, it can't be. I thought to myself. But then I heard it again! What was it? What could this noise be? Farting. Huge loud blubbering farts. I seriously gagged. Not that this is the fault of Mexico City, but whenever I think of Mexico City I think of those business men farting.

Eww.

Well, to be fair, Mexico City does have a few merits. The city contains 160 musumes and tons of galleries and concert halls. I particularly did enjoy their Museum of Modern Art and Sculpture Garden (you know I love a good sculpture garden) which is in the Chapultepec Park. I even took a few nice photos which I will share with you now...

She doesn't look too happy being serenaded

The house of Dolers Olmeda
(one of Diego Rivera's lovers and an artist in her own right)

Center Square

Sculpture Park

Sculpture Garden...Life imitates art

Inside the Museum of Modern Art

Momalicious

The visit with the Mom was fine. It was a little tricky to find things to do that all three (me, Mom and my sister) of us enjoy, but we had a nice time. We had some very interesting conversations about:

family, marriage, divorce, getting old, breast implants, breast reductions, politics, Iraq, Australian contortionists, what you should tell your children about sex, how to fight fair, adultery, retirement, boyfriends, potential boyfriends, bras, shoes, Oprah, over qualified immigrants settling for menial labor work, hurricanes, the word Saskatchewan and whether it really is funny or not, how to haggle for antiques, drug addiction, whether parents should bail their kids out of jail, the sea, real estate, investing in the stock market....

...and all that was just at dinner on the first night. Haha, just kidding.

We had dinner on Friday night at Clio in the Back Bay, the resident restaurant of the Hotel Eliot. I have to say, it was just OK. Not great. The waiter was snooty (he was clearly perturbed that we didn't order a first AND second course) and the food grossly over-priced as if the chef was just trying too hard to impress us with his artistic flair. But the sashimi bar, Uni, looked nice, if small. I may have to try that sometime.

Saturday we went up to lovely Newburyport to stroll around the shops and have a nice lunch. We eventually made our way out to Plum Island for a quick dip of our toes in the sand and sea. Erin hosted us for dinner at her new place in Charlestown and her boyfriend, Tom, came over to meet Mom. That went well.

Sunday we had brunch at Laurel, one of my favorite restaurants in Boston since it is so cozy and yet also very affordable. Their omelette filled with goat cheese, chives and lobster is fantastic (of course I order mine sans fromage). Afterwards we walked a few blocks to see the the beautiful Tiffany windows at the Arlington Street Church. We then drove down to the Isabella Stewart Gardner Museum. I don't think Mom liked it much, but I thought it was great (this was my 4th or 5th time visiting). After this point we were running out of ideas of things to keep us happily occupied. We made a run to Target and then just went to Erin's to hang out until it was time to drive Mom to her airport hotel (she had an early flight the next day). Oh, and we watched the movie Kinsey too.

Here are a few pictures to commemorate the weekend...

Street Performers in Newburyport

Shopping in Newburyport

The Unitarian Church of Newburyport

Antiques for sales

Mom and Erin on Plum Island

Going for a dip

Me and my shadow

Footprints in the sand

Sand Craters

Sisters

You Guys are ALL Screwed!

Spamalot

What the heck? Isn't it enough that we are innundated with spam crap everywhere in our lives, and now we have to read spam comments on blogger???? Ugh! Frustrating. Spambastards.

Hey Jude

So, Judy is coming to town this weekend.

Judy and I go WAY back. I mean WAAAAAYYY back. I've probably known her longer than anyone. In fact, I became very attached to her at a very young age. Well, at around the time of my conception in any event. Judy, A.K.A "Mom" (not Mummy, Ma, or Mommy) is making her way to Boston as I type this from the deep South. Beaufort, South Carolina. Ever been there?

That picture above actually isn't Beaufort, it is Florida. Beaufort is a funny place. Very Southern. Very quaint. Lots of shrimp. It is where great films like The Prince of Tides and Forrest Gump were filmed. Possibly even Girls Gone Wild vol. 54.

Beaufort is very close to Parris "Where the Difference Begins" Island, you know... where the Marines go to boot camp. So the surrounding areas are very very very SERIOUSLY PATRIOTIC. No kidding around here, folks. I remember going to visit for Thanksgiving, the November after 9/11. It was my first time in the U.S. since those horrific events, and my first time to Beaufort, South Carolina.

I will never forget that at every hour, on the hour, the radio station played both the Star Spangled Banner and God Bless America followed by a short taped address from Prez. Bush. I was so surprised by the depth and the extent of patriotism... I just didn't expect it. Looking back, I suppose I should have anticipated seeing the outpouring of emotion being translated into the displaying flags on every available space. I did a photo essay of some of the stranger things I saw exhibiting our new found patriotism, which I will post on another day. Really, a stars and stripes thong?? Come on now.

For now, here are some pictures of Beaufort for your enjoyment.

Shrimp Boats in the Harbor

Sunset over the Low Country

This sign cracked me up. What is it telling
the driver? You can go this way, OR that way.
Huh?

Ahhh... drugs.

All is much better now that the Endodontist has prescribed me some Vicodin for my tooth pain. And being at work today is an interesting experience... just trying to keep walking in a straight line any time I get up from my desk and use small words when talking.

However, once again last night the pain woke me up at about 3am (just 3 hours after I took the last dose of Vicodin). I managed to hang on for another hour before I couldn't stand it, and finally at 4am I got up, went to the kitchen, and popped another pill. I wanted to give the meds a chance to start working before lying back down, so I thought I would check on a few songs that I was downloading overnight (thanks to dial up 1 song takes about 30+ minutes to download).

So I sat on the living room floor, groggy and in pain, and powered up the laptop. I am just about to check the song file when out of the corner I see a blur of fur run across the living room and under the couch. FUCK FUCK FUCK. That goddamn mouse is still here. I guess he didn't read my letter from a few weeks ago and somehow thinks that he has free rein over my apartment during the late night hours. Well, Mr. Mus Musculus, YOU ARE WRONG. I guess the meds had kicked in a little bit since at the moment, instead of screaming and jumping out of the way, I just turned off the computer and went back to sleep (very un-interravision of me).

Now I am wondering... did I really see the mouse? Or was it my half-asleep, partially drugged, pain ridden brain that conjured him up out of thin air? Bah. I don't know. I was too scared to look for evidence of him under the couch this morning. I am sure he will make his presence known to me if he is intending to stay for a while.

By the way, the endodontist yesterday told me of a third option I have if the re-root canal or pulling the evil tooth in question are not viable solutions: surgury. See, how it works is that they attack the roots ("snip them off", he said) from the top, rather than going from the bottom via the tooth. How do they do that? Through your cheek. Ummm. No, I don't think I will be having a root extraction via my face anytime soon. No. And PPS: if I hear one more doctor say the word "snip" to me in the next few weeks I am going to lose my mind. You've been fairly warned.