Angel Face

Last night we were in Munich and decided to do the beer challenge through a tour company. There was a variety of people there....in particular Fabian, from Mexico City, Mexico. We chatted a little bit in the beginning of the evening but then as we moved to different beer halls the circle of new people changed as well.

At the last pub almost everyone (except me and a few others that became babysitters...) was über drunk. (I've been wanting to use at least one of those letters since I'm using a German Keeyboard). Well, Fabian sat his drunk ass next to me and for about 5 minutes we played the 'What's Rosies Real Name' game. It went something like this..

Fabian: So Rosa, how do you like the beer?
Me: It's Rosie
Fabian: How do you like the beer, Rosa?
Me: My name is Rosie....°Take a sip of beer, smile°
Fabian: So you like the beer Rosa?
Me: Rosie. Not Rosa.

That went on for about 5 more minutes...
He then framed my face with his hands and told me that I have an angel face. Fabian then said he knew I was a nice person because of my angel face and he was happy to meet such a nice person with an angel face.

I told him he was drunk...he said he wasn't and then nearly fell backwards on to one of his friends.

Did Anyone Check the Weather?

We were so organized when we planned this 3 week travel around Europe. We bought 'proper' travelling backpacks, got most of the hostels booked, and made sure we picked trains that had the least stops. The one thing we did not check, however, was the weather.

As I was packing I looked through my clothes and picked out stuff that I normally wear and that would be weather appropriate. But for some reason this was all I kept thinking in my head as I picked out my clothes....'We're going to Rome, we're going to southern France, and we're going to Barcelona.'

Notice in my little thought train that I don't mention any of the colder countries? London was nice and warm so it didn't really hit me until we got to Berlin. It rained, it snowed, and there was major wind. And all I had to wear was 2 long sleeved shirts and a zip up sweater. I had to borrow a rain jacket from my aunt. At least I didn't have to borrow the white Christmas shoes...

Once we left Berlin, we hoped and hoped that it would be a little bit more dry and warm in Salzburg. Looking out the train window gave us a different view. Snow. Lots and lots of snow. I have one pair of sneakers and two pairs of flip flops with me. I can't wear those in the snow.

So there we were, in the snow, cold, shivering, wondering why out of three smart girls, none of us checked the weather.

Of course our last day in Salzburg it got warmer and the sun came out. At least it's nice weather in Munich. And maybe Monday I can wear my flip flops around Rome.

Clive, The Lonely Milk Carton

What happens after sitting in the library for 9 hours, sleep deprived, and camera in hand

Awkward Bus Ride

I haven't slept. I realized last night that I have a paper due tomorrow when I thought it was due Friday. Plus other stress from back home is keeping me awake. (side note, for some reason my default picture looks really weird on this computer....)

So, my plan was to get to the library as soon as I could this morning and the buses usually start up around 8am. At about 7:15 I was just sitting in my room, cursing my neighbors loud snoring...show off. So after about 5 minutes of me glaring at the wall we share I decided I would wait for the bus at the bus stop, even though I had about 45 minutes to kill. But to my amazement the bus was already waiting there. (It's like they KNEW).
The bus driver was nice enough to let me wait on the bus instead of outside in the chilly fog after he looked me over(thinking...omg what hole did she just crawl out from), smiled (pity smile maybe), and joked about how early I was awake. Thank you Captain Obvious...
So I take my seat in the back of the bus...since all the really cool kids sit back there. And the emergency exit seats have the most leg room. I take out my phone wondering who, other then me, would be awake at this ungodly hour. No one. So, I start to play with my phone. I've had it since September and just discovered it has this nifty thing where you play a clip of music and it tells you the title and artist...that entertained me for about 20 minutes.

Anywho, long story short I finally made it to campus, looking like the BIGGEST nerd. The only person on the bus the whole time and before I stepped off the bus the driver asked me if I was awake yet.
No.

P.s. The kid next to me needs to stop pretending to stretch so he can see what I'm doing. You smell like egg rolls.

My Cinderella Story

It was Christmas Eve and things with my family were starting to wind down. We said our good byes and I stood in the small hallway by the front door looking for my shoes. My cute, little black ballet slippers that go with just about everything. I found the left shoe....but rightie was no where to be found.

A massive search was conducted but unfortunately it seemed with the death of my red chucks, rightie decided to hit the road for greener pastures. I know that life was better with my red chucks so I completely understand righties decision. But it came at a rather inconvenient time. I know this sounds really weird but I do like to wear both shoes when I'm going somewhere...even if it is the 3 second elevator ride. The funny part of the whole ordeal was being asked about 5 different times by 5 different German relatives if I came down wearing both shoes. And if you're wondering, yes I had both shoes in the beginning...

So my life has finally become the fairy tale I always dreamed about. I as Cinderella lost my shoe and now all I had to do was kick back, relax, and wait on Prince Charming to bring me my missing shoe.

A few days went by and nothing. My aunt even searched her apartment (even though the shoe went missing in my Omas place) but came up empty. So she decided to take me shoe shopping for new shoes. Since they were just black ballet slippers they weren't too hard to replace...I actually find some cute ones with glitter (it doesn't take a whole lot to make me happy).

Two hours and 10 Euros later my Prince Charming showed up. Unfortunately, Prince Charming turned to be my 81 year old Oma carrying the missing shoe.
Not the fairy tale I had in mind...

Wabbit Season

I get to spend Christmas in Berlin with my family and so far it has been tons of fun. Yesterday we took a 2 hour road trip to visit family that live in the deep east side of Berlin. One of my moms cousins owns her own hair salon so it was nice to finally get my hair cut.

Once we got back my great aunt had cooked an awesome lunch. Dumplings, sour kraute, and rabbit. That's right, I ate rabbit. It was actually pretty good until I got the creepy feeling that I was being watched. I shrugged it off and continued eating the delicious rabbit and sour kraute and listend to the German conversation.

That was until I heard it. It was a light scratching noise coming from the hallway. I peered through the door and there it was, two of them. The familys pet rabbits sitting in their cages, watching me eat one of their own.

I then put another piece of rabbit on my fork and into my mouth as I rubbed my belly, smiling.

'Mmmmm......'

The Difference Between Pants and Underwear

Words can be funny sometimes. Especially when it means something completely different in the new country you just moved to. Fanny doesn't mean a persons backside, it actually means the womans front side, her lower front side, chips are french fries, a womans wallet is called a purse and her purse is called a bag. Something else I wish I had known was that pants actually mean underwear. So as I was packing for Scotland I decided on just one pair of jeans. I figured I would only be there for the weekend and really, how dirty can one pair of jeans get over the course of three days?



Obviously, I didn't take into account the 3 hour walking tour, ghost
tour, and just wandering aimlessly around the city that yes, the bottom
of my jeans would become pretty dirty. I sat on the bus heading back
to the airport when I glanced down and noticed the dry dirt and little
bit of mud on the bottom of my jeans and exclaimed loudly, 'Oh my god,
my pants are so dirty!'



Mia, my token British friend, began to laugh as about half the bus
turned and looked at me. Really didn't think my jeans would be such an
interest to everyone on the bus, so I just smiled sheepishly and looked
out the window. When you're really embarrassed things outside the
window become really interesting...Oh wow, check out that lamp post!



'My pants really are dirty! Look!' Mia started laughing again before
she looked at me and told me that here pants mean underwear. I
basically told everyone on the bus that I have dirty underwear.



Rosie Billings, making friends where ever she goes....

Jasper and the Yeast Rolls

Those of you who have/had animals will probably appreciate it more. It is a story that is hilarious in itself and the person that wrote it is a good writer and made the story even better.

Enjoy...

We have a fox terrier by the name of Jasper. He came to us in the summer of 2001 from the fox terrier rescue program. For those of you, who are unfamiliar with this type of adoption, imagine taking in a 10 year old child about whom you know nothing and committing to doing your best to be a good parent.

Like a child, the dog came with his own idiosyncrasies. He will only sleep on the bed, on top of the covers, nuzzled as close to my face as he can get without actually performing a French kiss on me.

Lest you think this is a bad case of 'no discipline,' I should tell you that Perry and I tried every means to break him of this habit including locking him in a separate bedroom for several nights. The new door cost over $200. But I digress.

Five weeks ago we began remodeling our house. Although the cost of the project is downright obnoxious, it was 20 years overdue AND it got me out of cooking Thanksgiving for family, extended family, and a lot of friends that I like more than family most of the time.

I was assigned the task of preparing 124 of my famous yeast dinner rolls for the two Thanksgiving feasts we did attend.

I am still cursing the electrician for getting the new oven hooked up so quickly. It was the only appliance in the whole darn house that worked, thus the assignment.

I made the decision to cook the rolls on Wed evening to reheat Thurs am. Since the kitchen was freshly painted, you can imagine the odor. Not wanting the rolls to smell like Sherwin Williams 586, I put the rolls on baking sheets and set them in the living room to rise for a few hours. Perry and I decided to go out to eat, returning in about an hour. The rolls were ready to go in the oven.

It was 8:30 PM. When I went to the living room to retrieve the pans, much to my shock one whole pan of 12 rolls was empty. I called out to Jasper and my worst nightmare became a reality. He literally wobbled over to me. He looked like a combination of the Pillsbury dough boy and the Michelin Tire man wrapped up in fur. He groaned when he walked. I swear even his cheeks were bloated.

I ran to the phone and called our vet. After a few seconds of uproarious laughter, he told me the dog would probably be OK, however, I needed to give him Pepto Bismol every 2 hours for the rest of the night.

God only knows why I thought a dog would like Pepto Bismol any more than my kids did when they were sick. Suffice it to say that by the time we went to bed the dog was black, white and pink. He was so bloated we had to lift him onto the bed for the night.

We arose at 7:30 and as we always do first thing; put the dog out to relieve himself. Well, the dog was as drunk as a sailor on his first leave. He was running into walls, falling flat on his butt and most of the time when he was walking his front half was going one direction and the other half was either dragging the grass or headed 90 degrees in another direction.

He couldn't lift his leg to pee, so he would just walk and pee at the same time. When he ran down the small incline in our back yard he couldn't stop himself and nearly ended up running into the fence.

His pupils were dilated and he was as dizzy as a loon. I endured another few seconds of laughter from the vet (second call within 12 hours) before he explained that the yeast had fermented in his belly and that he was indeed drunk.

He assured me that, not unlike most binges we humans go through, it would wear off after about 4 or 5 hours and to keep giving him Pepto Bismol.

Afraid to leave him by himself in the house, Perry and I loaded him up and took him with us to my sister's house for the first Thanksgiving meal of the day.

My sister lives outside of Muskogee on a ranch, (10 to 15 minute drive). Rolls firmly secured in the trunk (124 less 12) and drunk dog leaning from the back seat onto the console of the car between Perry and I, we took off.

Now I know you probably don't believe that dogs burp, but believe me when I say that after eating a tray of risen unbaked yeast rolls, DOGS WILL BURP. These burps were pure Old Charter. They would have matched or beat any smell in a drunk tank at the police station. But that's not the worst of it.

Now he was beginning to fart and they smelled like baked rolls. God strike me dead if I am not telling the truth! We endured this for the entire trip to Karen's, thankful she didn't live any further away than she did.

Once Jasper was firmly placed in my sister's garage with the door locked, we finally sat down to enjoy our first Thanksgiving meal of the day. The dog was the topic of conversation all morning long and everyone made trips to the garage to witness my drunken dog, each returning with a tale of Jasper's latest endeavor to walk without running into something. Of course, as the old adage goes, 'what goes in must come out' and Jasper was no exception.

Granted if it had been me that had eaten 12 risen, unbaked yeast rolls, you might as well have put a concrete block up my behind, but alas a dog's digestive system is quite different from yours or mine. I discovered this was a mixed blessing when we prepared to leave Karen's house. Having discovered his 'packages' on the garage floor, we loaded him up in the car so we could hose down the floor.

This was another naive decision on our part. The blast of water from the hose hit the poop on the floor and the poop on the floor withstood the blast from the hose. It was like Portland cement beginning to set up and cure.

We finally tried to remove it with a shovel. I (obviously no one else was going to offer their services) had to get on my hands and knees with a coarse brush to get the remnants off of the floor. And as if this wasn't degrading enough, the darn dog in his drunken state had walked through the poop and left paw prints all over the garage floor that had to be brushed too.

Well, by this time the dog was sobering up nicely so we took him home and dropped him off before we left for our second Thanksgiving dinner at Perry's sister's house.

I am happy to report that as of today (Monday) the dog is back to normal both in size and temperament. He has had a bath and is no longer tricolor. None the worse for wear I presume. I am also happy to report that just this evening I found 2 risen unbaked yeast rolls hidden inside my closet door.

It appears he must have come to his senses after eating 10 of them but decided hiding 2 of them for later would not be a bad idea. Now, I'm doing research on the computer as to: 'How to clean unbaked dough from the carpet.'

And how was your day?

Dublin Bus TOur

When I went to Dublin, a friend of mine and I decided to shell out 25 euros and try out this "hop on hop off" bus tour. Bill was our first driver and boy was he cute, funny, and had an Irish accent that could make anyone swoon. So I got the bright idea to try and capture his accent on camera. It still makes me swoooooooooon.

Also, watch for the colorful doors...apparently when Queen Elizabeth the first died the English demanded that everyone paint their doors black as a sign of respect and mourning. The Irish said, Screw that you can't tell me what to do (so that's where I get it from...) and decided to paint their doors every other color except black

Can't Really Blame Them

Sometimes I wonder why other countries would really, really hate Americans. Ever since I've moved abroad I get a lot of really ...odd questions about the states. I think the one that beats every other question has been "Do they have music in the states?" How do you answer that?

But most of the questions were regarding the election, which was a big thing over here. Everyone was so curious about it, a few kids even got excited when I showed them my absentee ballot. It was like show and tell that day.

"And this kids, is who YOU should be voting for, if you were allowed to vote."

Sometimes it's fun to ask someone about what they think the stereotypical American is.

"Loud, fat, lazy, and stupid."

Those are the most common responses. Also, another popular one is that we all carry our own guns and shoot each other in disagreements. I recently spent the weekend in Dublin and had to sit next to these 3 American girls (around my age) on a tour bus. And as loud as they were, I ended up forced into listening to their conversation.

First, there was a heated 10 minute discussion on what American really is. It's not being patriotic to your country, or taking the citizenship test (and passing), exercising your right to vote or even practicing whatever religion you want (even if it is Scientology). According to these 3 girls being American is being able to shove an entire Doritos chip in your mouth. Yes, if you can fit an entire Doritos chip into your mouth without breaking and getting crumbs all over yourself, then you are American.

Lastly, there was the tantalizing (always wanted to use that word) debate on who had the better cold french fries, Burger King or McDonald. One girl professed her lover of cold, day old Burger King Fries while another express her (and her entire families) loyalty to McDonald.

This is why other countries think Americans are stupid. Because they're sitting on the bus, watching some homeless guy peeing on a wall when they're subjected to conversations like this. You can't really blame them.

But I think my big question is....why are you eating the french fries cold? Are you dumpster diving for fries?