Archive for June, 2008

And that much more certain of how badly the Yellow Pages suck butt

Pardon my absence. I’ve been elbow deep in boxes full of crap lately. And just in case you think I’m exaggerating, I present you with Exhibit A:

There you have it. The contents of this particular box were so crap that they actually merited the label “crap.” There were other boxes…boxes full of Crap Of the Decorative Variety, Crap of the Electronic Variety, Crap of The Wardrobe Variety and so on and so forth. The only useful (aka, non-crap) box in this move? It was labeled “Cheese.” It’s contents were mysteriously lost in the move. In my belly.

So we’ve officially moved from our peaceful, hilltop existence in the affluent Sunset District of San Fransisco for the colorful, vibrant, hispanic Mission District of SF where, we’ve been assured by friends in the neighborhood, the burritos are worth dodging bullets for. (Ha! Just kidding Mom!) We love our new neighborhood as it does indeed come with burritos aplenty (I’ve eaten more than I care to admit in this first week…they’re so portable! So convenient! And there’s cheese in them!) and, this is the kicker, PLATANOS. On every corner1 there’s a produce market and in them one can find enough platanos, malanga, and yucca to live out a blissful carbohydrate-laden existence for the rest of one’s days. I’m going to be cooking up so much Cuban food that before you know it, The Brit will be taking a break from his cut-throat, street-side game of dominos to wave his Cohiba ‘round frantically in the air and rant loudly, in perfectly fluent Spanish, about Castro’s oppressive communist regime.2

We’re also excited about our new “charming 1920’s” apartment…though, we’ve discovered, that “charming” and “1920’s” are really just elegant ways to say “This house is old as a motherfucker and, by the way, there’s no sink disposal. SUCKERS!!” The kitchen is equipped with a mustard yellow rotary wall phone3 that likely dates back to the Paleozoic Era and our bathroom has a specimen of a toilet seat that was surely resurrected from miles below the ice pack in an archeological dig somewhere in the Alaskan Tundra…it still had caveman butt-hair on it. Or was that dinosaur pubic hair? Hard to say. I’ve sent it off to the lab for speciation.

Speaking of being in the Caveman era…we didn’t have an internet connection for an entire week. Being without it for seven days was akin to being shuttled back to the 80’s in Marty McFly’s Dolorean and being handed a 1975 Yellow Pages. It was tough…there were days I didn’t think we’d pull through. But with the therapeutic aid of bubble wrap4 and alcohol, we’ve come out on the other side that much stronger!

1. Well, every corner where there isn’t a taqueria.
2. Not likely. It is safe to say that The Brit does NOT have a knack for languages. We’ve been dating for three and a half years now and he asked me a few days ago how to say “Bye” in Spanish. He believed me when I said, “Adieu.”
3. A phone that would actually be kind of retro-cool if one of the Brady brats hadn’t cracked and broken it in a fit of rage.
4. Do you have any idea how much fun that shit is to pop!?!


Hark!

The madness featured here is mine and mine alone. It does not, in any way, reflect the madness of my employers, colleagues, patients, nutty family, or my colorful friends. The privacy of my employers, colleagues, patients, nutty family and colorful friends is sacred & deeply respected, so no names. All words Copyright © la cubana gringa, no method, just madness 2006-2010. All comments © their authors. Don't steal; it's not nice. (And my Grandfather knows people.)

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