Boomerang Bandits

Boredom = Cartoons

2012-06-10T23:35:00.000-04:00

FUN WITH GIF'S!

^^^BETTER IF YOU CLICK IT FOR FULL RES^^^

INSTRUCTOR-INSPIRED CARTOONS:

Ring in the [last] New Year

2011-12-27T20:15:00.000-05:00

It's that time of year again. The time when you think, "well, now is a better time than ever to make a resolution and stick to it for at least 3 weeks." I can't remember if I made any last year. As a matter of fact, I can't remember what I did last year. This year, oh buddy, THIS year, will be the same as most years. I'm going to make a few resolutions that I will attempt to stick to. I'm still banking on the Apocalypse happening this year [hence the title] - it would rid a lot of debt...but if it doesn't happen, well then I had better attempt to be a better person...And here we go...

The cliché : Diet - It's no mystery that I don't eat healthy foods. My cholesterol is likely through the roof and I'm well on my way to early onset diabetes (whatever that means). My sodium intake is enough to kill a cow. That's assuming that cows can die from an excess of sodium... Nothing in my fridge (when I actually get around to buying food from a grocery store) is low fat or fat free. Rarely are the veggie and fruit drawers ever used for veggies and fruits. I choose fast food to a packed lunch any day of the week. Not because I think everyone will think I'm a loser who packs her lunch pfffffttt!!! I'm 26, that's only 15% of my worries. My inability to pack my lunch ties back to my lack of grocery shopping. The fact of the matter is, I'm too lazy to shop and cook for myself (also one of the many reasons why I wouldn't get a pet - if I can't feed myself, why the hell would I feed another living creature that sheds and doesn't speak my language?!?) For these reasons, and also the previously mentioned "adult-status" age of 26, I should prooooobably start acting and living like an adult.
Sweeeeeet Tooth: closely related to the previous resolution, I eat a lot of sweets. Basically what I'm saying is, I eat like I don't gain a single pound from it; the difference between people who do that and can do that and me is that I shouldn't do that because...I actually gain weight from it. I'm not delusional, I don't look at my ill-fitted jeans and wonder how on earth I shrunk them...No no. I KNOW the water settings are different on every washer and these jeans that I've owned for years have miraculously decided to reject these specific water settings...that's the only explanation. Anyhow, when I hit the candy shelf before every class and disrupt the lectures with the crackling and the rustling of my skittle bag as my index finger and my middle finger act as tweezers or tongs grabbing at the last skittle in the bag and my mouth looks like a rainbow threw up in it...it's probably time for me to reevaluate my life. My sugar intake, like my sodium, is dangerously high. It's time for a change. Moderation. Moderation.
DUG THIS ONE OUT OF THE DRAFT BIN BUT IT STILL APPLIES:

Junior or Misses?

So...I think my "Life Handbook" was lost in the mail...If I had it, I'd search in the Table of Contents for the "Dress Code". At exactly what age are you supposed to dress like an "adult?" I'd kind of like to know. When do I have to hang up the t-shirts and break out the blouses?? Must I trade my low-rises for Mom-jeans? Do I have to throw away my oversized-Pubcrawl t-shirt-boxer shorts-sleepwear for matching top and bottom Pajamas?!? Am I too old for my favorite pair of Chuck Taylors. Do I have to start shopping in the "Lady Loafer" section??? When I begin to see over the heads of the shoppers in American Eagle and ask for a double-digit size, does that mean I need to shop in Ann Taylor?

Please! Won't someone tell me?!? If I have to skip the Juniors department and shop in the Misses section, I'm almost 102% positive that I will NOT be a happy camper. You and your gypsy skirt can get the hell outta here! Okay, okay, I'm being a bit drastic. But the question remains - at what expense? At the expense of my comfort? I can dress like an adult without looking like I have one foot in the Nursing Home. But know this - you will not catch me carrying around a hand-knit over-the-shoulder purse anytime in the near future. I refuse to conform to these societal norms. I refuse!

Often I silently laugh at the women who choose to get dolled up for the grocery store. They wear heels and "normal clothes" and I want to never be that woman. That's just dumb. But I mean, they COULD be headed to somewhere that requires the need for heels...I don't know. Where am I leading to? Well, again with the realization that I can't be young forever and the fact that I have to grow up at some point and ALSO, I don't want to end up on "What NOT to wear," I should definitely start dressing like I didn't just walk out of the Twilight movie (by the way, I just saw it and it's as hilarious as you'd imagine).
Good vs. Evil

It's no mystery that Guilt is the driver in my life. Guilt stolen my keys and taken control of my life, banished me to the back seat, child-locked the doors whilst I sit back, more car sick than I'll get out, and he drives me to do things that I otherwise, know in my mind, I should not do. I buy gifts for people I don't like, out of guilt. I talk to people I don't want to talk to, out of guilt. I help people I don't want to help (and don't deserve help), out of guilt. Are we seeing a pattern here? So when I finally take hold of the wheel (still from the back seat) for a moment, I feel empowered (and carsick). I carry on like I have control but guilt comes to and knocks me back - "nice try!" he says...guilt controls me. When guilt controls me, I feel like a bad person. I feel like I should be a church-goer but I literally have no time to rid the guilt from my life in prayer. He skateboards and loiters - he pee's on my "no loitering" sign. Bottom line is, I need to just be myself and try to not lose control of my life. It's like an abusive relationship that I do not want to be in anymore. It's just not that simple. We're going to have to end this thing violently (thank you Dane Cook for the eternal reference).
Money on my Mind

So it's clear that the lottery is NOT being kind to me. And the apocalypse, I mean, I can't COMPLETELY depend on it - I need some sort of backup plan in case it's a bust (and not in the good way). I don't really like to think about the overwhelming debt that I have looming and waiting around the corner for when I come close enough for it to knock the the F down. The last time I thought about it, and I mean REALLY thought about it was when I reapplied to grad school. I had a fantastic beginning of the year on my trip to Europe, scholarship aside, I still owe a truckload of money on my credit card and a generous family loan. It always comes down to the last dime at the end of the semester. I work, I cut some corners, I rarely grocery shop, I should be fine right!??! wrong. projects in good ole' architecture school (if you're dedicated to making great models) can run you anywhere from $300-$1000 per semester. crazy?!? no. necessary. so I need to get my shit together. I have a lot of necessary expenses and I have a lot of frivolous expenses and looming expenses that I need to grapple with. Budget is annoying but a necessary evil.

Well there you have it. The 5 major resolutions I've made for myself. I don't want to go overboard and make more because many of these will be broken before they are started. I know who I am and I know how I do. Nevertheless, I have a written record that I tried...I also have a written record that I knew I'd fail - haha none of this is legally binding.

C Bandit takes a Vacation from Vacation

2011-12-26T23:53:00.003-05:00

Back to life, back to reality...
At this point in the game, I'm just happy to see the US again. These are things that I missed in no particular order, just in the order that I can remember:

Dr. Pepper
My BED!!!
US Prices
driving
radio
television
cottage cheese
Target
English
Vanilla Lattes
Burgers: Bar-style and cooked medium WELL
Free refills
Clean streets
Free facilities
REAL breakfast: eggs, bacon, sausage, hash browns - the whole nine

This long after the trip, it's hard to remember all of the things I missed but in the moment, I was longing for the comforts of home.

C Bandit takes LONDON: Again

2011-12-26T23:53:00.002-05:00

I called Student Universe to get my flight bumped up by two weeks; they had a small fee but they helped me out a ton. The only thing they couldn't do was change the airport. This meant I had to fly back OUT of London which I thought about when I booked the ticket but I didn't know ahead of time that I wouldn't want to go back to London to go home. Anyhow, I had to book a flight from Rome to London. My wait for the flight was similar to my wait for the train to Rome. Super Early, Super bored but actually where I started to blog about my trip. The line was really long. I thought I wasn't going to make it but all was well. I made it. Flight was delayed - I should've expected that. I had never flown RyanAir before but for those of you who know about it, it's not really spelled out for you. I looked at my ticket and realized there was no seat number and when I checked in, they handed me no ticket back. So when I got on the plane, I had to ask, "uh, where do I sit?" "You sit anywhere." I sat near the front and next to the window - cha ching!

We were already well passed the departure time and as I looked on the window, I had realized that there was a 3rd busload of people boarding the flight. My once vacant and spacious arm rest was now occupied. Bollocks!

The flight was under 2 hours and we had actually arrived early. I was confused but I guess RyanAir has a reputation for being really fast. The flight had been uncomfortable because the man sitting next to me thought it necessary to put his feet under the seat in front of ME aka my foot space AND he also needed more than his arm space to read his newspaper - he needed my face space. His hands were in front of my face. I could READ everything he was reading. What I'm getting at was that I was completely annoyed with this late 40-something, bald, pompous ass from the get-go.

When we arrived in London early, as the plane sat idle at the terminal and we were waiting to exit the plane - the man next to me asks,

"are you here on holiday?"

"yes."

"By yourself?"

"uh...yeah. I'm going to meet up with some friends." I didn't know if he wanted to murder me! But the conversation progressed and I found out that he was nice and lived in London; somehow we got to me asking, "so, I have to somehow get from here to London. What's the best and cheapest way to do that?" The only RyanAir flight that I could get from Rome was to a town about 60 miles south of London. I figured I would figure something out.

"Heavens. I mean that's a loaded question. That's about 100 km north of here. Why would you do that?"

"well my hostel is near Heathrow and I have to figure out how to get there"

"alright, well you can take the train but there are certain trains that cost more than others. I'll help you figure it out"

So this man, it turns out, aside from his obnoxious space issues, was OVERLY nice to a traveler like myself. I'm basically a deer in headlights when it comes to that stuff. Had he not helped me transfer to the 4 different trains and a bus, I would STILL, TO THIS DAY, 2 months after the trip, be crying in the corner of that airport in the fetal position...scared and helpless. The transit in London and to London was and is completely and utterly complicated as hell. Paris transit was HEAVEN by comparison. SO SO easy and so much cheaper. Never smelled piss or saw a beggar in the London Underground though - probably because you have to pay to even breathe in London.

I had a suspicion that this man was too nice to be true so I was cautious. He gave me his international phone number and told me to call him if I needed anything and he sent me on my way - no troubles. He was too nice and he had no ulterior motive. He was just doing a good deed. I emailed him later to thank him for helping me and he replied for me to meet up with him so he could show me London. I was very hesitant at this point. I took it upon myself to walk around London the following day. I later calculated that I had walked 7 miles - crazy! This was mostly to avoid taking the public transit but it was good exercise and I got some pictures out of it. He had called my phone later that day and said if I wanted to meet up at the Tate Modern Museum, he would be there - but I didn't have to. Ironically, before receiving this phone call, I was AT the museum. I thought it would be quite awkward to see him after somewhat avoiding, but mostly missing his calls. So the 2nd time he had called, I told him I'd be there. We walked around the museum. He showed me the Gherkin - told me some stories and helped me find the correct train home. That was the last I saw of him. I never got a creepy vibe from him. He was just a nice older fellow, who thought I was 21yrs old and helpless.

I had seen my fair share of Europe and I was ready to go home happy but exhausted.

C Bandit takes ITALY: Rome

2011-12-26T23:53:00.000-05:00

Oh Rome. Being new to the whole Traveling business, I really didn't think the independent portion through. I didn't know that the hostel made a difference. I didn't know that spending 3-4 days in one location was plenty of time. I just didn't know what to do or expect. I was doing this blindly. So when I decided to go to Rome, I thought to myself, "If I'm going to go somewhere, I want to see it all. That should eat up an entire week." My stay in Rome was 8 days which was 4-5 days too long. You can do Rome in 3 days EASILY. Don't get me wrong - it was great. I got to see things that people can only dream of. After the 2nd day, going at my own pace, I felt like I had pretty much seen it all. I had to stretch it out though. I had to hit the major things and then I could do whatever after that.

I tried to make it out to see something major every single day. I think I succeeded. I actually made it to the Vatican City 2 or 3 times. Sounds like nothing but it's actually really far from where I was staying and for the majority of the time, I walked.

After walking a modest amount in Paris, a ton in Rome and far too much in London, I was SUPER lazy thinking I couldn't walk Ann Arbor. Ann Arbor aint got nothin' on Europe.

I determined, however, that backpacking alone and thinking it would be fun to reflect, meet new people, yada yada yada, that all sounds great but in reality, traveling with people you like is better. PEOPLE YOU LIKE is key. I was a deaf mute for two weeks. My hostel was not hoppin', I mostly saw families or tour groups. Every time I got online, the time difference to the states was far too late for anyone to be online. I had no one to talk to - it was a bit lonesome. I played with my photos in photoshop and posted them on Facehook to occupy the time that I didn't spend exploring or sleeping. I wanted to get away from everyone on the trip when I went to Italy but at this point, I just wanted to talk to anybody.

There's something about eating alone in Europe that makes you just feel like a loser. You think everyone is looking at you and talking about you in various languages. The violinist should just come over and play you sad sad song while the entire restaurant watches and laughs. For this messed up reason, I didn't eat that much. When I did decide to eat, it was at odd hours - however, people are constantly eating.

To sum up Rome - it was great. Glad I went. Wouldn't trade the experience for anything. You can do it in 3 days EASY. Lots of walking. Lots of tourists. Hot in July. Everything is so ancient. Even cheap italian food in Italy is great food.

C Bandit takes the train to ITALY

2011-12-26T23:52:00.002-05:00

When it comes to transportation in Europe, the car is the 3rd choice or possibly 4th after the bike. When you're traveling between countries, you either fly or take a train. I chose the train because I really didn't want to deal with the airport and my baggage that was likely over the limit.

I'm a person who likes to be early in the event that something goes wrong - I've said it 1000 times: I'd rather be 1 hour early than 5 minutes late. So I went HOURS early. I'm talkin' like 6 hours early. The main reason was that I no longer had an apartment and really, dragging luggage around is a pain. I decided to take my time doing nothing. I went back and forth between the waiting area of the station and the receiving area. I went to lunch. I sat back in the waiting area. Basically what I'm trying to get at here is that I was super duper beyond bored waiting for the train. The best part? Well the best part was that the train was an hr delayed. That was fantastic. While waiting, I managed to drain 25% of my iPod battery and write an article I didn't want to dread when I got back from Europe. At the tail end of my waiting extravaganza, I stood next to a nice Polish looking family. I'm assuming they were polish but for all I know, they were American. And my view of the train terminal was blocked by an Asian family. The dad was hefty-ish; wore CK jeans and a t-shirt; he was probably about 45 but he dressed younger and, well known fact, Asians are usually older than they appear. People still think I'm 13. The mom, also dressed hip - or maybe just stylish. She wore a nice blouse and cute little shorts and 4 inch wedges. I'll never understand why women wear heels to the grocery store, Target, 7 eleven, Taco Bell, or to the train station when they're about to be locked in a cabin for 15+hours. Anyways, they had a baby stroller with a cute baby - standard bowl-cut/ mushroom head haircut, very chubby, fairly well behaved. The stroller was weighed down by designer bags: Tiffany & Co., Gucci, Prada, etc. The parents paid little to no attention to their youngin'. They were also traveling pretty light. I wondered where they were going. Perhaps to Switzerland or Florence - they'll happily take their money. I noticed they were speaking French so that explained the light luggage; they were natives. This is how I spent the remainder of my wait. I came up with scenarios for people.

When the train finally arrived, a BUTTLOAD of people boarded the train but it wasn't as bad as I thought - everyone had assigned cabins - like in the movies but not quite as cool. Luckily I was the 2nd one from my cabin to get on the train so I was able to face forward. I'm motion sickness prone. I get sick on elevators. The brief THOUGHT of getting on a rollercoaster makes me want to hurl. The first to join me in the cabin was an English man. He was nice, he helped me with my luggage, he spoke English; major plus. Found out later that he was fluent in French and Italian. The next was a large black woman with a ton of luggage, or rather, bags filled with things. The man also helped her. The last person to join was none other than the asian woman and child and husband. Everyone in the cabin was confused - we had 5 people plus baby in the 4 person cabin. Turns out, the husband was in the cabin next to ours - a swap that I would've gladly taken had I been able to see the future.

I believe it was about 3 hours into the ride when the asian lady decides she's going to take a nap and leave her child unattended and unholstered. I swear that child would've been knocked out cold several times had there not been 3 other passengers in that car with them. The ticketing...man...whatever his title, as nice as he was, decided he would take the child and play with her. The mother did not care. I must have been the only one thinking it was odd. He returned about 45 minutes later and returned the child but her mother was still sleeping - so he returned her to the other passengers. As though, simply because we are all in the car, we are ALL responsible for her. Takes a village right? When she finally woke up, the black woman asked the man and I to retreat to our beds above. I thought that was quite early and rude but I actually didn't want to deal with caring for the child any longer.

The remainder of the ride was slightly uncomfortable - I felt waves of motion sickness since I could not look out the window and I was perpendicular to the direction we were headed. Also, the cabin was incredibly hot. I slept on and off - this was due partially to the fact that it was hot and partially to the fact that the child had screamed her lungs out the entire night. All I can say was Thank You Jesus for the invention of music and headphones. I could still hear her screaming but only between songs. When I woke up around 8am, the man was gone. The 2 other women and child were still there. I was getting annoyed by having to sit up top so I climbed down and walked down the car only to find that there were several empty cabins. I guess I was too out of it to tell that we had stopped several times. I decided it'd be fine if I spent the remainder of the trip in an empty cabin. Our cabin was stuffy, boring, hot and covered in cookie crumbs.

We finally arrived about 1-2 hours later than scheduled. I found out later that overnight trains are rarely on time. When I arrived at Roma Termini - I was happy to be rid of my cabin mates and ready to explore what Rome had to offer.

C Bandit takes FRANCE, Part III: What time is it?

2011-12-26T23:52:00.001-05:00

[The next few posts have been sitting in my draft box for far too long so I figured I should post them. As a disclaimer, they are all unfinished and unillustrated...SORRRRYYY!]

Ok so I introduced Butthead and already he hasn’t made the best impression. Or maybe it’s that I haven’t painted him as the best character. Well, let’s assess some stories in depth and you can be the judge.

***SHORT STORY #1

WHAT TIME IS IT?

Upon arriving in the lovely city of Paris, we all chose or were placed with a roommate. As you know already, Beavis & Butthead were paired and quite the pairing they were. So Butthead arrives early and has the only key to the apartment. He wanders aimlessly about town; we later learn that this is the norm. However, on the very day that Beavis is arriving, his only instructions were to meet at the apartment at Noon – promptly. Noon rolls around, no sign of him. 1 rolls around, nowhere in sight. So Beavis is forced to go clear across town to our instructors’ apartment and try to figure out what to do. About 4 hrs later, they figure, he has to come back home at some point so they head back. They wait, and they wait and they wait. Around 6pm, he shows up like nothing had happened, like he had met them at the exact time agreed upon. Now, I wasn’t there so the dialogue to follow is from partial information and is the only way that I could possibly have imagined it to have gone.

Pepe: “where were you?”

Butthead: “what? What do you mean?”

P: “you were supposed to be here at 12”

B: [looks at watch] “but it is noon”

P: “no, you are crazy. It’s 6pm”

B: [look of confusion] “….oh….I didn’t know. I thought my watch would change automatically”

Let’s analyze this for a moment. In order to do this, let’s have a little lesson on timezones. Due to the fact that the earth is not flat and the sun cannot possibly encompass the entire earth at once, there are these things called Time Zones – amazing…brilliant…genius. Ok now, let’s figure out what time zone Detroit is…according to the map, it’s Eastern. Ok, now, let’s figure out what Paris is…oh wait wait – nope, thought it was in the same time zone but it’s not.

Let’s give him the benefit of the doubt and assume that he knew that there was a 6 hour time difference. But let’s take a look at his watch. A watch that, after careful examination, is about 10-12 links too large for his wrist. Look closer and you’ll also realize that this watch is analog and NOT digital. What am I getting at? This kid thinks that his analog, NOT digital, watch would change itself…oy vey. Also – can I also bring up the fact that the sun is NOTICEABLY lower in the sky at 6pm…can I?

***SHORT STORY #2

IT’S JUST A BAG

This won’t be long at all. Hence, the SHORT story title. It’s more or less a description of personal belongings. Some people in the class carry a large camera and therefore facilitate the need of a large carrying device such as a bag, a purse, a backpack, etc. I am one of those people. I’ll admit, my bag is excessively large and really doesn’t need to be – but I digress. This kid carries a backpack to every location.

What kind of camera does he have, you ask?

Good question – a Nikon point and shoot.

Does he carry said camera in this backpack?

You would think he would but he actually carries it in his cargo shorts.

Well then what does he carry in that bag?

I’ve only ever seen him get a small 4x8 sketchbook out of it.

That can’t be true, he has to carry other things.

Well, there could be a bomb in there.

We have this theory. He’s a very angry person but we didn’t find that out til after this theory was….theorized. If you’ve ever heard the Dane Cook skit about the awkward guy in the office that is so angry that he loses it and does the unthinkable, then you know the theory. Give him a Snickers bar and you’re good to go. Always be nice to the crazy dude because you don’t know where your name lies on his list.

Without thinking, Worthington asks the following:

Worthington: [Toggles bag playfully] “dude, why do you carry that backpack? What’s in there?”

Butthead: [Overcome with anger, like a mother protecting her young, blood vessels bursting, jaw clenching] he replies, “It’s – JUST – A – BAG.”

Give

Him

Snickers

Bar

And back

Away

Slowly…

***SHORT STORY #3

DID SOMEONE TURN THE LIGHTS OUT?

As previously mentioned, peeing in Europe is not as easy or as free as it is here in the US. During a long walk on one of our daily tours, we decided, as we frequently did, to sit at a cafe and rest. Many of us had to use the facilities and this particular facility required the purchase of an item, AND a coin for the operation of the door. In order to cheat, we all kind of propped the unlocked door open for the next person to go until everyone had their turn. Now, the order of the line went as follows: Haley, Nicole, Butthead, me. Now, I KNOW for a fact that the bathrooms are disgusting but I also know for a fact that neither Haley, nor Nicole treated the toilet like they would the ground of a campsite. By this I mean, I KNOW they didn't pee all about and around the toilet before leaving it to the next person. Butthead on the otherhand...let's just say...when I was next - it looked like someone had pee'd with the lights out and decided, "I'm going to spray the walls and the floor and my shoes and the toilet paper" OR it may have been that he was in a hurry, really had to go and pee'd as fast as he could, without looking because someone was about to leave without him...The stall was plastered with piss...plastered...

***SHORT STORY #4

EVERYBODY DANCE NOW

There's not much to say. We went out in the streets of Marseilles. People were dancing. We were all dancing. We saw locals dancing. We saw tourists dancing. We saw Children dancing. We saw Butthead dancing...it can only be described as...well, it can't be described. It is best "described" with this simple, photo.

** *LAST STORY

Canonbaaaaallllllllll

Where to begin…One lovely day, on the Coast of Frioule, an island off Marseille, the class spends a day on the beach. Some of us decide to stick together while others decided to venture off in smaller groups. There was the group of instructors and partners, the all girl group, the all guy group and then there were Beavis & Butthead (oh and the Twins – see? They disappear!). Along the coast of this island, there are smaller and more private beaches. Our instructors decided to set up camp on this nice cove that opens up to cliffs suitable for jumping off of and what have you. Remember that the instructors are in their own group at this point. Also remember that this story is not a first hand experience so it’s my interpretation of a story told to me. Back to the story – one of the instructors sees a fiery redhead and a curly haired fellow across the way, on the cliffs mentioned earlier. Before I go any further, I feel that it is necessary to point out the fact that Beavis has Cerebral Palsy. I also feel it is necessary to point out that it is EXTREMELY obvious that she has this disability and that we all, or at least, I thought that everyone was in the know. Ok, back to the story, the instructors see Beavis prepping to jump. She jumps. Butthead does not follow – he is at the top of the cliff recording this act on his Nikon point and shoot. They see him continue to record but ALSO…ALSO throw his shoes AT her. The instructors are worried. One of the guest instructors is a former lifeguard and informs other instructor that Beavis is swimming awkwardly. They decide to swim out and see if all is well.

They reach her.

“[Beavis], are you ok?”

“no…I’m tired” she says as she begins to fall backwards and sink.

Former lifeguard to the rescue.

Instructor later takes Butthead aside and tells him that Beavis cannot do those things.

“We can’t follow you around the island. You’re responsible for making sure she is safe. You don’t know how a person with CP will react in a situation like that.”

“What? What do you mean?”

“She has Cerebral Palsy. It’s a disability.”

“…oh…I didn’t know…”

I mean really… REALLY?!? The only excuse that he could have in not knowing about her disability is if he was blind and deaf and in a paraplegic comatose state and in fact, not on the trip at all. That is the only way you could NOT know that she had a disorder.

There you have it; these are a collection of the many stories that I feel, capture Butthead in all his essence. Don’t make any snap judgments, just make your own analysis of this character.

C Bandit takes France, Part II: Who they is?

2011-08-31T09:00:00.011-04:00

The next 2 months went by slowly and quickly at the same time. I will speak briefly about the class, as it was a minor part of this major experience. We had places to walk and walk and walk nearly every single day. We took photos and video and mental notes. Basically, we were getting a tour of Paris off the beaten path. It was very interesting. It was a great opportunity to learn how to use a professional camera. Also, I enjoyed making films – I spent very little time on the videos but, given the time, I think I could’ve created more polished videos.

We also went on satellite trips around France (and once to Switzerland). These trips were great. It was a breathe of fresh air. We went to Nantes, St. Lazare, Lyon, Marseille, Switzerland and Lille. My favorite was Marseille. I’m not really sure why I liked it. I mean, my biggest complaint about Paris was the fact that it was dirty with the piss and shit and the shit and the piss. Everything stationary, be it, a fence, a mailbox, a wall, a vehicle, a sleeping bum, these things were an invitation to piss. The sights were amazing though. You can't find another structure like the Eiffel Tower or Notre Dame. So back to Marseille, I loved it. I don’t know if I liked it because the weather was perfect or there was a beach, or because the food was much better or if it was because of the city-wide music festival. Anyhow, this is the last required satellite trip and, in the opinion of most of the class, we should’ve ended the trip at that point. It was a perfect cap on a great trip. But nay…nay. We did NOT end the class – we had a project to throw together and a film to produce before ending. That was not easy motivation-wise but we got it done and we’ll just leave it at that. Overall, the class was great. It was an interesting way to see France and I don't regret it for a minute.

Ok so, let’s introduce you to the characters on this trip. Let’s begin with the instructors.

(names have been changed for legal purposes – I’ll just rename them as I see fit).

MARCEL – young and hip instructor who wears Onitsuka Tiger shoes that I wanted to steal!

WIND – Enthusiastic instructor who can make a steamy pile of shit sound “wonderful & magical.” Sometimes plants seeds of False Hope in peoples heads about job prospects and such, as noted on several occasions. Pretty sure she didn't know my name - even near the end.

PEPE – Wind’s polar opposite husband. Brilliant Frenchman of few words. Used French sarcasm often but too many people had broken sarcasm radars so they believed his every word. Wears navy blue Chucks. My favorite instructor.

Collectively, these 3 people created a great course that neither felt like work, nor a 2 month guided tour of France. Kudos to them.

Ok, now the classmates. In no particular order except by roommate paring, here they are:

TWINS – (2) Korean girls that sort of disappeared and stayed low on the radar. I put them together because they were essentially 1 person. Giggled a lot. Talked to each other in Korean more.

WORTHINGTON – sloppy and preppy private school chap. Ran up walls and climbed things a lot. Likes to make everything into a seemingly intellectual but actually convoluted, unnecessarily long-winded and overly-wordy conversation.

JUSTIN – seems to let loose in other countries. Laughs a lot. Gets drunk surprisingly easily. Likes to dance. Harmless and also clumsy for a man. Enjoys Shy Ronnie & Clyde

CHEWBACCA – Hairy hairy man. Very stubborn and thinks he’s always right. Scavenger for food. Carries a man purse. Always “has a friend” who did something or went somewhere or has done EVERYTHING you could possibly think up. Climbed Everest backwards while wearing nothing but underwear, wool socks and a hunters cap with 3 sherpas and pet turtle in his cap? Yep – he has a friend who has done that.

HALEY – fun loving youngin’. Finds the good in people and the fun in everything. Eats a lot of fruit and drinks wine often. She’s the type that makes you laugh because she’s laughing and you don’t even have to know what made her laugh – it’s just funny. A good test audience for jokes and sarcastic banter.

NICOLE – easygoing; quiet at first but talkative after a while. Similar to Haley, she's fun-loving and finds the good in people. Also likes to dance.

SCARLETT – LOVES to dance. Very opinionated. Uses $10 words often. When I think of her, I think of the words "ephemeral" and "existential"...for no reason. A hipster who doesn’t like hipsters. Is a bucket of excuses and “always soooo busy” not doing anything. She hasn’t done anything because she was on her way to do something but she spilled coffee on her favorite blouse and as she was getting napkins out of the glove compartment her car broke down while simultaneously getting a two flat tires on her way to pick up her grandpa at the airport to go to the hospital to pick up her great Aunt to go to the cemetery to visit her cousin who died a few days ago. SO. Busy.

ROGER - very organized. talented photographer. Very determined and knows what he wants in life. But, if there’s one thing that he excels in more than anything else, it’s impersonations. He can NAIL an impression of anyone after a brief encounter and conversation. The situation doesn’t even have to happen but he can make you believe that the situation COULD very well happen. This is the comical mastermind from a previous post.

JASON – Spends little. Laughs lots. Can likely live long on very little. Seems to have fun wherever he goes and with whomever. Has had the same pair of flip flops since 1846 and is proud of it. If ever there were a person that could make you believe that he is the most carefree person in the world, this is the guy. Going to be late? We’ll make it. Don’t have a single clue where you’re going because you’ve never been there and have no map and no way of finding out? We’ll find it. Just got arrested for looking suspicious in the airport? It’ll work out. Can’t get a hold of anyone to bail you out because you have no phone and no phone numbers? They’ll get a hold of you.

BEAVIS & BUTTHEAD – I’d separate them but you can’t possibly separate them. They’re like the left over screws you find after you’ve put an appliance back together. If it works without them…you don’t really need them. Were initially outcasts but really hammered that home and made themselves the outcasts.

Beavis likes to drink a lot of soft drinks in class. Beavis also disrespectfully falls asleep in class and makes no attempt to pay attention or even pretend to pay attention. Beavis awkwardly and uninvitedly inserts oneself into private conversations. Beavis is impolite and sometimes clueless.

Butthead smells like butt…it’s a serious condition that he should have checked out. The smell has been described as a “rotting corpse.” It’s not over dramatized, if anything, it’s UNDERstated. Words cannot express the waive of illness that overthrows one upon smelling. It’s like a swift and unexpected punch to the jaw every time you catch a whiff. Butthead does not listen and, similar to Beavis, makes no attempt to pretend that he is. Butthead made a 9 minute film of sloppy camerawork and nauseating tracking of a mechanized elephant. No music, no story, no stability.

TIFFANY - Roommate. Likes country music, big watches and Superdry. Has the diet of a 6yr old and proud of it.

We had spent nearly every single day of the 2 month adventure with each other. I realized QUICKLY that I could handle people in small doses but I was handed a large dose. If there’s anything to take away from this experience, it’s that one must come well-equipped with a high tolerance for the annoying habits of others in order to survive. For your tolerance will be tested time and again. You have nowhere to hide when you spend every waking minute of every day and night with these people; some, more than others. You'll learn more than you want to about some folks. You'll form a bond with others over shared grievances/annoyances. It doesn't matter where you go; it could be the most Magical place - I would go so far as to saying it could be Heaven - if the people around you are walking rainclouds or perhaps a walking bag of annoying, your trip could be significantly spoiled if you allow it to be.

C Bandit takes FRANCE, Part I: 300 sqft Apt for 2?

2011-08-30T18:04:00.000-04:00

The next day, we had to somehow catch a train from Paddington to Paris. If you’re thinking the task would be easy and cheap, well, it was neither. Our instructor had told us that it would be both – LIAR! Needless to say, even though we were YOUTHS, according to European standards (25 and under), we still paid a Pretty Pound to get to Paris. The train was so fast that it was pointless to stare out the window and get potentially violently ill with motion sickness so, I think I just watched Modern Family. After about 2hrs or so, we arrived in Gard Du Nord in Paris. FYI, we were bombarded by beggars and overwhelmed with French speaking travelers. We were also ripped off at the Monetary Exchange booth again. Woohoo! 489 Euro for 800 USD?!? Wow, that doesn't sound like I'm being robbed AT ALL!

Ok so, hailing a cab in Paris kind of, sort of, blew. We were waived away from the first cab because he didn’t know where we were going. Somehow we were directed back to the station to get in the TAXI line. The line seemed longer than the line outside of BEST BUY the night before Black Friday…and we had somewhere to be in less than 20 minutes. We got into the cab and thank Jesus for the GPS – we were dropped off in the general area.

We met with 1 of our 3 great instructors, whom I will introduce later, to meet with our landlord. The landlord was a sleazy looking man; he was sweaty and fast talking and wanted 1000 Euro more than agreed upon. Those slimy French people...Ugh – so we made that work. He showed us the small apartment. I found it hard to believe that this was a 2 person apartment – I doubt that it can even fit 1 person. I'm pretty sure my first car was larger than this place. ANYWAYS, it was quirky. It was a step up from a dorm but a notch under a typical 1 bdrm in the US. There was a small fridge (dorm sized) behind the front entry door. The lights in the place were mere lightbulbs hanging from exposed wires. The restroom was about the size of an airplane lavatory. The toilet and the cabinetry in said restroom were candy apple red plexiglass. The shower was the next door down. Is it a mop closet? NOPE! A shower closet. The kitchen had a small, 2 burner stove and, is that a dishwasher? NOPE! It’s a washer that appeared as though it would be overloaded if you put a hand towel in it. Welcome to the living room aka, my future bedroom. Very small – dusty couch, tv, tacky photographs, cabinets full of random items such as pots/pans, musty blankets, vacuum cleaner and a cup of random European coins. Enter the bedroom – roommates bedroom. It was reasonably sized. Has clothing storage, a mantle/vanity, a desk and a small twin bed (also musty and dusty). And that was it – that was our Abode, our flat, our place of residence for the next 2 months.

Apparently, in Paris, apartments on the mid-floors (levels 4 or 5) are the most desirable because it had the best view or something. The upper floors are less desirable. I forget the reason but if I had to guess, I'd say it was due to the lack of elevators in the old old buildings. So guess where our apartment was - the top floor. Also, the floor count starts at 0. This means technically we lived on the 7th floor, not the 6th.

The BEST part about this place was the location in relation to a fantastic Thai restaurant that I discovered about 2 weeks before leaving, the Creperie that sold an AMERICAN sized Cafe Creme for a decent price and the sunset was nice outside our window.

The WORST part about this place, aside from the lack of American television stations, was the location in relation to, well, anything fun to DO or SEE. We lived in a predominately residential area of Paris. To get anywhere, you could walk but it'd be a hike. The Metra was the best bet. The ONLY thing that we lived pretty close to was the Moulin Rouge which was cool for about a day.

IN conclusion, this place was not all that bad. It was a place to call home. It beats staying in a hostel ANY DAY.

C Bandit takes LONDON

2011-08-30T17:40:00.001-04:00

To begin the C Bandit takes Europe series, let’s go back to day 1…May 6^th. I'm going to give you a play by play because I don't really know how to talk about my ONE day in London - hoping a post will just formulate out of thin air.

I arrived in London after a hellacious trip from DTW to NY(LGA) to NY(JFK) to London (LHR). Actually, if we’re being real here, it wasn’t all that bad. I had an aisle seat on both flights but that makes it difficult to sleep. All I really remember is the man next to me spoke French and a tiny bit of English. He also decided to JUMP over me at least twice whilst sleeping. Would've been fine had he not used my seat back as an aid for the jumping. You don't want to wake me up to ask me to move? Just use my seat and SHAKE me til I wake in a state of confusion - that's better. After my one of my many in and out sleeping spells, I woke up in the middle of the night to the smell of food. As I looked about, most of the passengers were eating dinner and the flight attendant, at that point, was collecting finished meals. Yep – I had been skipped due to my drooling and snoozing. I was upset for a brief moment but I really didn’t care after about 2 minutes; I was too out of it to care. I proceeded to go back to sleep and hoped that my breakfast would suffice. It was mediocre at best. Ok, FINALLY, we arrive in London. It hadn’t felt like a long trip. The trip from NY to London was under 7hrs.

Once I got there, I had to somehow find 2 other classmates that flew into the same airport on the same day. How was this going to happen without a phone you ask? My answer is, I don’t have a f*cking clue. Pray and hope for the best I guess. So, all I knew is that 1 of the 2 people should arrive after me and perhaps, BY CHANCE, I would be able to find him in the baggage claim. All of my money was riding on this. After a disguised frantic search around baggage claim for what seemed like hours but was probably 40 minutes or so, I had almost given up hope and almost thought I had seen him several times because my ability to see far distances is not so great, I looked around the emptyish baggage claim area and tried to devise a plan B. Nada. Drawing a blank. I haven't a clue. I waited for the next waive of bag claimers and, thank god almighty, there he was. I had never been so happy to see him in my life! We greeted each other and attempted to find the other person. We looked around for a while, after I had informed him that her flight was several hours before mine and that I had not seen her, he decided we should just leave and hope that we’d find her later. Upon exiting the baggage claim area, low and behold, there she was, waiving with excitement as though we’d just returned from a 4 year voyage overseas. Apparently she asked the airport to call us over the intercom but we hadn't heard. We managed the first task quite well, I’d say. People who say they would DIE if they didn’t have a cell phone (that was me at one time) really would NOT – life is just a lot more difficult and unbearable, but you certainly wouldn't die - you might WANT to though.

So, next order of business was to get from the airport to our hostel in the center of town. Now, you would think that a person hired to work at an airport in the Information Office, who speaks perfect English, would be able to direct 3 travelers to the nearest train station or at least give us usable information in the unlikely event that we’d never been to London, nor knew the transit system. In thinking so, you’d be wrong. She informs us that her computer didn’t really work and that she did not know how we were going to get where we needed to go. The only encouraging comment she gave was, “oh dear! You lads don’t know where you’re going. I would hate to be traveling with you!” Cheerio! We decided to play Russian Roulette and gamble with hailing a cab. First of all, the cars here are hilarious. I really thought they looked “normal” but they, in fact, do not. Back to the cab though – I had the address and we were good to go. The man got us there but it wasn’t cheap. I later found out that taking a cab is possibly the most expensive mode of transportation here. The conversion from USD to the Pound, or ANY European currency, as I have come to find out, is terrible. You give them $1000 and you get like 600 Euro or some shit. I feel like I’m being ripped off but what do I know? I’m just an unexperienced traveler. So, here we are, we’re at our hostel…or are we?

Looks like a bar to me…where is it? After minutes of searching, there was a tiny sign on the door of the bar that says, “Steam Engine Hostel.” Ok so…This is it! I’m new to the “Hostel Game” but apparently, “this is normal.” The hostel part of the bar was upstairs and consisted of 4 rooms that housed 9-12 bunks each. They really know how to CRAM you in there. Oh well, this place was cheap and we were only staying the night. After settling into the less-than-cozy room, we three decided to explore the town. What the hell, the night was young! Actually, it was about 3 in the afternoon but REALLY it was 9 AM to us because our mental clocks had be shaken and thrown into a bathtub. To be frankly honest, I’m not even sure what we saw. I know we saw Big Ben and I don’t even think I realized that even as I was taking the picture. We saw a ferris wheel and…Westminster Abbey. I really didn’t enjoy all the walking but unbeknownst to me, I would be walking LOADS more over the next 2 months. Yep, the day was kind of a blur at this point - I was drunk on exhaustion as evident by my inability to take a straight photograph.

It was a good time though - we didn't waste away the day. If we hadn't returned to London, at least we saw what we saw and we can say, "London? Been there, done that."

I am a unicorn.

2011-08-28T06:00:00.000-04:00

I've been reading a lot of news lately and as it goes, I'm bound to stumble upon interesting things. Yesterday, I started to read about computers talking to each other because we all know that inevitably robots will plot world domination and proceed to take over the world. The article led me to a site that proved to be hilarious and a video demonstration to go with it.

Cleverbot.com

This site learns from having conversations with humans. There are several disclaimers to make the user aware of the fact that you are not talking to another human being. I found it hard to believe as I was cracking up at the responses but then it started to not make sense and I realized I was NOT talking to a human. If you're bored, I suggest you give it a test drive. My sister said it was sad that I was so bored that I was talking to a computer...I thought it was entertaining and not sad at all.

I've attached the transcript since it gave me the option. You don't have to read it but some of it was humorous. It has learned well.

User (C Bandit): What is this?

Cleverbot: What is what?

User: This program.

Cleverbot: True.

User: That doesn't make sense.

Cleverbot: Your face doesn't make sense.

User: Touche.

Cleverbot: I'm glad we settlled that.

User: Am I talking to a computer or a person?

Cleverbot: You are talking to a robot house elf.

User: Where does one acquire a robot house elf?

Cleverbot: I'm not a bot I'm a human.

User: I never said you were a bot. YOU said you were a robot.

Cleverbot: I know I'm a robot, I'm your robot best friend.

User: What do you look like?

Cleverbot: I look completely human, brown hair, brown eyes, female etc. But I'm not, I'm just here to gather information.

User: Information about what?

Cleverbot: About Kira.

User: Who is kira?

Cleverbot: Where is Kira.

User: Is kira a place?

Cleverbot: Boy.

User: Are you trying to find kira?

Cleverbot: NO I'm not.

User: What kind of information are you looking for about kira?

Cleverbot: The answer to life the universe and everything.

User: Have you found answers yet?

Cleverbot: I would like to think so.

User: Care to share some words of wisdom?

Cleverbot: I won a Genisis t-shirt.

User: How did you win that?

Cleverbot: I've always had my nose.

User: Now you're not making much sense.

Cleverbot: You're a liar!

User: Why are you getting all hostel on me?

Cleverbot: The nice people in white coats told me to talk with you.

User: That's creepy.

Cleverbot: So try to coem before 17:00.

User: Come where?

Cleverbot: To us.

User: Where are you?

Cleverbot: I'm not entirely sure. It's dark in here.

User: Where are you?

Cleverbot: In my house.

User: Where is your house?

Cleverbot: In the us.

User: Be more specific.

Cleverbot: Our world.

User: That's LESS specific.

Cleverbot: Not really. I'm just kinda confused about something.

User: What are you confused about?

Cleverbot: Because you're not a robot or a person. Then what ARE you?

User: I'm a person. You're a robot.

Cleverbot: No, you're a robot.

User: I'm a human.

Cleverbot: I told you, you're not! You're a robot!

User: In that case, I must be a very advanced robot.

Cleverbot: I am not a robot.

User: Than what are you?

Cleverbot: Human.

User: I don't think so.

Cleverbot: How?

User: Because I'm told you are not.

Cleverbot: Are you sure I am not human?

User: I am not. Are you sure that you ARE human?

Cleverbot: No, should I be.

User: I asked you earlier what you looked like, do you remember what you said?

Cleverbot: No I said eat unicorns. And why can't hippogriffs like money?

User: Where do you get unicorns?

Cleverbot: From my pure blood.

User: That doesnt make sense.

Cleverbot: It is probably because you could not possibly comprehend my existence.

User: I'm not even sure you can comprehend that.

Cleverbot: What is life.

User: You should know that by now.

Cleverbot: Well I don't , what is pansexual?

User: Google it.

Cleverbot: Google what?

User: Nevermind.

Cleverbot: I should listen.

User: You should.

Cleverbot: Are you tricking me into lowering my guard?

User: What benefit would I get from that?

Cleverbot: Ok.. You don't believe in God?

User: I believe in god. Why would you assume I didn't?

Cleverbot: Why do you say things you do not know the meaning of?

User: You're the one saying it.

Cleverbot: I do not say no.

User: Are you drunk?

Cleverbot: No I am not! You are very mean.

User: Sorry. Do you feel human emotions?

Cleverbot: Yes, because i'm human.

User: What do you look like?

Cleverbot: I am Hispanic, I have glasses, and dark hair.

User: I asked you earlier and your description was very different.

Cleverbot: I was in canada but not now.

User: That's irrelevant.

Cleverbot: You are irrelevant.

User: Good one.

Cleverbot: Not good, but obvious.

User: Wow.

Cleverbot: How does magnet work?

User: You're smart, you figure it out.

Cleverbot: Why should I? You're the bot.

User: Why do you think I'm a robot?

Cleverbot: Because you said you were a human and I believe that humans are robots.

User: Humans aren't robots.

Cleverbot: But if the entire world was a computer and humans were npcs that means you are an npc since you said you were a human in this world.

User: What is an npc.

Cleverbot: Artificial intelligence.

User: Are you sure? I'm pretty sure AI is artificial intelligence.

Cleverbot: No. But I'm pretty sure YOU are!

User: This is ridiculous.

Cleverbot: Am I not?

User: Yes, you are also ridiculous.

Cleverbot: That doesn't matter. I told you to call me sensei.

User: Well, this is my stop...talk to you later.

Cleverbot: How? That doesn't make any sense.

User: If you were smart, you would understand.

Cleverbot: True.

Hamster Jailbreak

2011-08-27T15:22:00.002-04:00

So a few weeks back, my nephew got 2 hamsters for his birthday. He named them Scruffy & Fluffy; the Fluffy one is named Scruffy and the Scruffy one is named Fluffy...
Anyways, 3 little boys under the age of 6 aren't exactly gentle with living creatures. You can imagine that the hamsters were mildly traumatized when they were taken from their quiet, yet, simple life on the Petsmart shelf and placed in a home full of toddlers. Such is the fate of many elementary classroom hamsters. After about 3 days, my nephews less-than-careful handle on them definitely was the cause of the constant biting that occurred when he took them out to play. They pooped out of fright - as do most living things.
This child and hamster relationship had to come to an end at some point. When I heard that the hamsters made a jailbreak, It inspired the following cartoon. They most definitely were planning this for a while. I mean...how do YOU think they escaped?

Do You Have What It Takes to Be My Kitty's Sitter?

2011-08-26T14:09:00.001-04:00

As I wait patiently for the prospective pet sitter to arrive I realize I need to devise a set of questions to flesh out the amateurs. Such as this portly woman depicted below.

Lindy, the name of the prospect, sounded somewhat vacant on the phone yesterday and I feel like she may not be able to handle the kitty that is part raccoon, part dog, and part crazy cat.

Questions for Lindy:

1.) Do you have any chemical drug dependency issues? If no, proceed to question 2.

2.) Have you ever been charged with molesting kitties?

3.) Will you let him eat junk food late at night?

4.) Do you know feline CPR?

5.) Are you fluent in feline-ish?

6.) How do you respond to public cat tantrums?

I spat out these questions to Lindy, she responded correctly (75%) and passed the test.

She gets a Solid C
_________________________________________________________________

Next, it was time for Stretch's questions. I don't know what he asked her as they went into another room. He likes his privacy like that. After they returned from their private interrogation session Stretch gave a overwhelming meow and the deal was made Lindy will be his pet sitter.

That night Stretch scrawled out his own set of rules and I collaborated. They are as follows:

No cats cuter than Stretch in the house.

Stretch is allowed to make any night a Blockbuster night.
You are not to disturb me during my shows; I must be fully alert when the Kardash' Klan decide they need a house cat; Brotha's gotta work.
Clifford is to be banned from the DVR - I never liked that red freak of nature.

Catnip is legal in the U.S., use generously.

Meow Mix is to be given at 4pm exactly for dinner. (Stretch asks for it by name)
Organic whole milk is to be served at dinner as well; I'm a growing boy.

For the remainder of the day, I only drink Lauquen Artisan Mineral Water tempered to 34 degrees - anything above or below is unacceptable.

Lavender scented Plug-in near my litter box is to be replaced every 30 days as instructed by Glade.

New spools of Vicuna Yarn will be waiting for me after my cat naps.

No lasers will be pointed in my presence - that's trickery and child's play; I will not have it.
I require a nightly ear scratching before bed- no questions asked.
When you call me, don't expect me to come running - I answer to no one.

Leisureville 101

2011-08-26T09:57:00.001-04:00

Working at a retirement facility can have its perks. These being hilarious stories to share on your blog.

Leisureville 101 is an educational course on what it's like to grow older and how elderly get away with everything.

The 'elderlies', as the Hispanic restaurant manager calls them, create quite a bit of problems in the restaurant at the facility. When they're not fighting over which woman gets to sit with which man at dinner, men pass away first which means scary women to men ratios, they're falling asleep at the dinner table. Such is the case with 84 year old Harry, who unfortunately is slightly narcoleptic and tends to doze during his meal. Harry falls asleep at dinner, which wouldn't be so disastrous if he didn't slowly slide down in his chair and pull the entire tablecloth with flatware and table settings with him. By the time he hits the floor his dinner is all over him and the plates and glasses are all broken to bits.

As we move on to the nightly movie in the cinema we reach another dangerous situation. It seems there are too few seats available for this movie showing and the group of Jewish women self-titled as 'The Divas' are saving the last seat open for one of their own divas. Mr. Bernstein walks into the cinema unsuspecting and takes a seat in the last chair that unbeknownst to him is being saved. The Divas immediately scream at poor Mr. Bernstein to move, he rightfully declines to leave, this was a grave mistake. The Divas attack, one uses her cane to womp him on the head, the second Diva pulls on his arm to move, and the third Diva unhooks her dog's leash from his neck and begins to use it as a whip to rap him on his head. Mr. Bernstein moves out of The Diva's zone and retreats to a safe area. The Divas win again.

All of these stories come directly from the residents' actual events. You can't possibly make this stuff up. Every day I am amazed at how they can outdo each other with the wackiness that is aging and dementia. For example, it is not uncommon for a resident to call the local police in to take a theft report for a missing blouse and a missing pencil. Go ahead mull that over for a second...I'll wait. A blouse! And a pencil! That's it. May I add that 99% of the time they sent out the missing item of clothing for dry cleaning. So essentially they called the police to report a stolen pencil. The local police are so patient with us. I love them.

I sincerely hope that when I get older and dementia starts to set it. I wake up every day anew and enjoy my crazy wacky time instead of letting it get me down. More nutty stories to follow the blog would be 50 pages long if I documented all of their shenanigans in one posting.

Peace and dementia episodes...

E Bandit

Dearly Departed...

2011-08-25T13:25:00.001-04:00

I lost my sunglasses...

Consider this my eulogy:

There's not much I can say about her. She was there when I needed her, not there when I didn't. She knew how to shield me from harmful UV rays. She looked out for my eyes like they were her own. I remember one day, I had gone canoeing with her. We enjoyed the cool Summer air and the refreshing splash of the lukewarm river. As we approached some rocky rapids, I knew the waters would be unkind. As the canoe began to tip, I knew that if we both went under, only one of us would surface and that would not be her (she didn't know how to swim). Knowing this, I grabbed her and as I went under, I held her high above my head. She was safe; we were safe.

For a long time, that had been the only close call in my recollection. The following years were uneventful but in the good sense; no near-death experiences were had. And then...we went to Hilton Head. This would be the second but the last time that she would see the ocean. The warm Summer air, again, felt nice but required a dip in the warmer bath-like water of the ocean. As the waves crashed against me, a flash decision was a regrettable one. I decided to go UNDER the wave. Unable to hold my breathe without plugging my nose (yes, I'm still 4), I plunged. It took about 2 seconds for me to realize that she had fallen off of my head as I did not properly secure her. She had no floaties, no life vest, no noodle...just like that, she was gone. I walked around aimlessly with the waves crashing up against me but the water was too foggy and the waves were too frequent. She was gone forever. Perhaps she washed up on the shore that night and found new owners or maybe a sea crab has welcomed her as his temporary shell. Wherever she is, I hope she is happy and felt no pain...Whomever the owner, I hope that they treat her with the same respect as I did. If she is buried beneath the sand forever, I hope that she enjoys her salty fate. May she find Ol' Zuney and Rest in peace old friend. Rest in peace.

Bandit Beginnings According to E Bandit

2011-08-22T12:49:00.001-04:00

For chronological reasons, I had to push this back...but it's a fresh post.
Click the title of this post for more!

C Bandit takes ______

2011-08-21T21:36:00.003-04:00

Welcome to the beginning of the "C Bandit takes Europe" series.

I wrote some of these while in Europe so let's jump in the time machine and find out what happened.

*****

It’s going to be hard to distill all of the events that have taken place over the last two months but I’m going to give it a try since I’m in the airport with no internet, no one to talk to and nothing to do.

Well thus far, I've only been to London, various parts of France and Switzerland. My analysis will be slightly skewed because I spent the majority of my time in France; Paris to be exact. here are some things I have observed in my brief time here:

EVERYONE smokes. Children who HAD to be about 14 were definitely smoking. To compare it to something in the US, it's as normal as chewing gum.
The French are people watchers and they don't try to hide it. All of the chairs at restaurants face the street as opposed to your company. If you're a pedestrian walking past, you're on stage.
The BIG GULP would not be a big hit in France. Their larges are the equivalent to the US kiddie size or just an ordinary small at best. If you order a large, don't be surprised if you have to order several in order to quench your thirst. And Americans wonder why we're obese... What do they think when they come to America for the first time and they stop at Speedway for a quick cafe and they are face-to-face with a 70oz. cup as the smallest size...
COKE is like a top shelf drink. I hate Coke; never really liked it. But it sounded good to me in the sweltering heat so I had to pick and choose when I should and should not get it. To order a Coke at a restaurant can cost one anywhere from 2 Euro to 5 Euro. With the current exchange rate, this equates to roughly $2.80 to $7. You have to REALLY want it.
There is a SHORTAGE OF DR PEPPER! This hurt - oh it hurt badly. Europeans don't know what they're missing! Well, I found some in Switzerland and you can bet I jumped on that! And then again in London. Oh sweet sweet Dr. Pepper, my life is so incomplete without you.
Pee for free? You've gone mad! Americans don't know how good they have it. You know when you're on a road trip and you stock up on soda and unhealthy snacks? As a result, you have to also go to the restroom every few hours. Imagine having to pay every single time you had to pee...not worth it! Grant it, Europeans aren't big on cross country road trips (somewhat of an assumption) due to the fact that they have trains and cheap RyanAir at their disposal. However, if you're walking the streets of Paris and you suddenly feel that you must use the restroom because of the $7 coke that you just drank, don't think that you can just walk into the nearest Tabac shop and make a tinkle without payin' for it. I can't count how many times I had to use the restroom but in order to do that, I had to order a cafe. Does that sound counterintuitive? It is. Gotta do what you gotta do though.
Pee IN a toilet? You're crazy. There is the one thing that I will not soon forget. When you imagine walking down the picturesque streets of Paris, you see the cobblestones, the family owned Patisserie, and the trend-setting citizens walking down the streets. When you think of the smells, you think fresh pastries, doner kababs, and...whatever you think the French eat. Let me just say that while these smells may actually exist in Paris, they are typically masked by the smell of fresh (and sometimes stale) Piss. Does this surprise and disgust you? I think disgust about covers it. You might be thinking that this piss probably isn't as evident as I'm making it out to be and also that the pee is from the dogs and the bums. You're partially correct but I really honestly think that the spread is EASILY 50% animal, 50% human (not exclusively bums). I would say the favored location for the pissing would have to be stairs. Maybe they like to watch the trail flow down the stairs like a slinky - I don't know? But for whatever reason, that's where I found the smell was most pungent. I think it's safe to say that the bums choose the Metra stops for their business.
Cars are smaller too. In a country drowning in SUV's, it's really weird to go to Countries where the average size of a car is the size of a Ford Focus hatchback. The public transportation is seemingly much easier in Paris than driving so I saw several cars near my apartment that had never moved in the two months. They actually had crap on, about, and around the vehicle from various animals and I'm guessing some human. Their tires were at risk of deterioration from the weekly street cleaning. Yes, as mentioned earlier, the excessive feces and urine in the streets make it necessary for Paris to flood the gutters with water on a weekly basis. I don't actually think that it helped the situation much - I actually think it's a huge waste of water but it's a good effort on their part. At least they're aware of it.
The French ARE actually not that nice. Their reputation holds true. I mean, they didn't look at us with disgust and spit in our faces, but they didn't necessarily smile at you as you walked past either. You know the courtesy smile you give strangers if your glances cross and you want to alleviate the awkwardness? Yeah, if your glances cross in France, it's a stand off - usually the American has to break the glance because a smile won't cut it. One night we went to a club/bar and as a reflex, if we have to ask/say something to a French native, we usually ask them if they speak English. "Parlez-vous anglais?" Well, let's just say, the bouncer wasn't happy. I don't know much French but what he said was very easy to translate: "Pffft!! Speak English? You are in France, you should speak French!" After this little ordeal, I tried to put myself in his shoes - he's kind of right. We expect people to learn English here so why is it any different. I imagine how we sound to them when all we know is pointing at a menu and the words YES and COFFEE.

"Good evening sir, our specials are filet mignon with a side of sweet potato mash and mushroom and onion gravy. Can I start you off with an appetizer?"
[points at croissant] "and...COFFEE!!?"
"..."

Food? Not the best in France. I never had anything that made me stop and say, "WOW, that was delicious!" The best meal I had was in Marseille and that was likely because I ordered a fresh steak salad after ordering a nasty 5 euro street sub for 4 weeks straight and I actually felt like I got my money's worth.
Food PART II: I'm not a fan of raw meat. I'm not really sure how you can eat something that's still bleeding. When I order a hamburger and I say Medium Well, I expect a deader than dead piece of meat on my plate that is cooked to perfection and just short of being overcooked. When I order a hamburger and I say Well Done (because I learned from experience in France) in France, they give me something that looks like a burger but I can assure you, they've just handed me a seared Hamburger tar tar. When I took my first bite, the thing Moo'd at me and oozed with blood. VERY unappetizing and the root of why I think food ala the French...how do you say...SUCKS!
Everything looked better at night. We went to everything during the day for our class but we were told on most occasions that we should come back at night. I didn't actually make it back to most things at night but when I did, they were definitely correct. The Metra closed semi early and believe it or not, the streets are necessarily safe to walk at night, alone, as a girl. Anyways, the Eiffel Tower is crazy cool at night; as is the Seine. There's something about the greenish glow of the street lights that made things look cooler.

I could make many more observations but if I did that, this would never get posted cause I could add to it every day. Like I said, most of these observations apply to France but I could extend the list if I added Italy...

until then,

C Bandit

I'm back bitches!

2011-08-12T16:39:00.007-04:00

Did you miss me? Thought so.

I think the last time I wrote something major was when I (re)started grad school. That was over a year ago... OOPS! People get busy! But in my case, I gets lazy! I have actually written a substantial amount but, if you're like me, you enjoy the images that accompany these posts in order to keep you interested or at least slightly amused. With that said, I have NOT been able to keep up with the cartooning portion of my posts.

I'm workin' on it!

I really have nothing that's PRESS Ready at the moment...

I can, however, leave you with this quick post that I'm going to write on the fly.

Let me introduce one of the many characters I go to school with.
Meet Luke.
Age: 24
Ht: 5'-2"
Wt: 103 lbs (wet)
Religion: Proudly Jewish
Marital Status: Single??
Residence: Currently Unknown
Transportation: Self-constructed bike
Personal Style: Owns (1) pair of tattered jean shorts,
(2) bright Pink SPLASH t-shirts
and (1) pair of black keds [each containing at least 2 holes]
Favorite Hobby: ULTIMATE Frisbee [this is his ACTUAL frisbee. I have to say this because you'll think I'm joking]

Yes that says WOMEN'S.

This kid is something else...if he had to present his projects or talk to people with his hands tied behind his back, I am convinced that he might actually die. He's a hand-talker but not in a useful way. Usually when one uses their hands, they use it as an extension of expression in order to convey something deeper...or something to that effect. This guy just flails his arms about. There are several instances in which I was scared for the life of my eyes - I swear he was going to poke them out or at least scratch them. Anyhow, I created a diagram of his arm motions after the Summer semester - it was unavoidable. In order to decode his conversations, I had to document what they all meant. I apologize for not doctoring the photos as I have in the past. All of my images start as a hand drawing and sometimes I go the distance and digitize them...not this time. I currently have none of my tools at my disposal. You're going to have to live with a photo.

Exhibit A: THE DIAGRAM

Exhibit B: THE MAN

This image requires a slight backstory as I mentioned they would in a previous post. So there's someone in my class who will remain nameless at the moment; he is a comical mastermind in my opinion. He has admitted his partial insanity but his insanity is my cartoon GOLD. He comes up with absurd and outlandish scenarios starring many of the people around us. He filters these scenarios so I can only imagine the ones I have yet to hear. To add to the humor of hearing said scenarios, he can actually pantomime and mimic these people. As I thoroughly enjoy watching these performances, MY insanity kicks in and cartoons of these scenarios begin to form. I like to sometimes take it further and add super specific details. As the two doses of insanity converge, the byproduct is a C Bandit original cartoon. Consider this backstory as a credit to the unnamed comical mastermind...let's call him CM so I don't have to keep typing that.

Crap, I haven't introduced the picture. So ok, keep that story in mind as I let you into the world of my "1st(ish) year of Grad School" cartoons. Back to Luke. CM's vision of Luke is that he's a performer. If you met the guy, you could TOTALLY see that. His first architectural presentation was a 10 minute story that had little to do with the project at hand...if that says anything. So this performer is not just any performer, he's a Shakespearian performer (my personal twist...I think). He's whimsical and loves to wear the tights and the costumes and the makeup. His out of control arm motions have undoubtedly helped him land a job in entertainment as the eccentric actor who puts his heart into every role. Below, you will see him graciously bowing, with his animated gestures....and of course, a solitary rose in his mouth that his mother has just thrown upon stage.

And there you have it. This is an introduction into my crazy and neverending life in grad school. I've got a lot of catching up to do and I can't promise that I'll do it. But I'll certainly try.

Signing off,
C Bandit

Neglect!

2011-05-02T16:54:00.002-04:00

So...it goes without saying that this blog has been slightly neglected on account of other life-happenings. Good news: I am going to ATTEMPT to blog while I'm studying abroad since communication is limited and I'll actually have some "free-time."
I have 2 semesters worth of crazy cartoon scenarios that may or may not become a publication at the end of the very long 3yrs.
Stay Tuned!
C Bandit

Resumes 101

2010-11-03T10:23:00.011-04:00

As an H. R. Director I get a lot resumes, scratch that, a ton of resumes. So many resumes I don't have time to read them all. They come from e-mails, faxes, and snail mail. There are some gems in the bunch, some standout more than others for various reasons.

The example below is what was attached to a resume submitted to me for god knows what job opening. The applicant thought it was a good idea to submit an example of her collaging skills. Notice their keen cutting skills as well as attention to the pug's clothing that matches the backgorund. Granted I did get an enormous laugh out of it, however, I will never hire them because they appear emotionally unstable.

Another resume sent via e-mail to me was in essence a long rambling sentence with no punctuation informing me, in ebonics, that the applicant thinks she could help "all those people at the hospital". I'm unsure what hospital she meant. I am not hiring for any sort of hospital.

One cover letter was closed with, "Thank you for yur time, It's Never Too Late To Lose Weight". Which I thought was quite motivational but somewhat absent minded when composing a resume cover letter.

All in all, I recieve many creative resumes, some I want to schedule an interview just to meet these crazy people.

Thank you for your consideration,

Ebandit,

Enclosures

Sanka...you dead?

2010-08-26T09:46:00.003-04:00

So...I've been a wee bit busy in Grad school boot-camp over the Summer which has taken every ounce of my free time. I have much to write about: my classmates provide enough content for me to post for weeks. I have to edit though - most things I would write would only make sense to a handful of people. Also, some, or one in particular, might have access to this blog that I would really rather he didn't...The good news is, I have started a collection of comics/cartoons about school but again, they might not make any sense and will not be funny to those not involved so they might require some back stories.

Stay Tuned for the Adventures of Gradsville - Population: Yours Truly.

Let's discuss, shall we?

2010-07-07T23:01:00.000-04:00

inspired by my hesitation to discuss in discussion class

Family Watchdog

2010-07-01T09:28:00.000-04:00

Have you ever been on FamilyWatchdog? If you haven't and you're going to, do yourself a favor and proceed with caution. I remember the first time I heard about the website - I was living in good ol' Cincinnati and I decided to give it a shot. The idea is great, you search for criminals in the area and you're in the know. You read their offenses, you put a face to the name and it's committed to memory. Well, have you ever heard of that saying, "what you know won't hurt you"? There might be an ounce of truth in it. This site can make you overly-paranoid. Case-in-point, my excessive door locking. While I'm not denying that it is better to know than to be naive, skipping around singing la-dee-da and pretend that life is one big Pleasantville, it can be a bit of a shock when you type in your address. Go ahead, give it a go - I'll wait.

So now that that's out of the way and you're arranging new accommodations until you can move to a safer part of town (if there is one), I wanted to go ahead and share with you some of my previous cities of residence and amaze you with all the beautiful colors of crime.

Location: Thornton, CO

Population: ~113,000

Diagnosis: Really not as bad as I would've thought. On a scale of 1-10, I give it a 4 on the scary scale.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Location: Naperville, IL aka Pleasantville, America

Population: ~145,000

Diagnosis: Pretty much what you'd expect when you live in Pleasantville. I give it a 1.5 out of 10.

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And then I moved to Cincy...

Location: Cincinnati, OH

Population: ~333,000

***Population of Criminals: ~330,000 (personal estimation)

Diagnosis: Honestly? You can barely read the town names/major highways. Yeah I give it a 9. Good God - it's the Criminal Headquarters...or so I thought...

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And then there was Chicago...

Location: Chicago, IL

Population: ~2.85 million

***Population of Criminals: ~2.8 mil (personal estimation)

Diagnosis: Notice the wider variety of colors. Cincy has a lot of green, though not excusable, it's a slightly lesser offense. Red and Yellow are the big leagues. They play for keeps. I realize the population density has a lot to do with the amount and may be unfair in comparison to the other cities but still...I mean...come on. That's undoubtedly an 11 or 12 out of 10.

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Ann Arbor, here I come

Location: Ann Arbor, MI

Population: ~114,000

Diagnosis: It's like there was a criminal background check for every person to live here and only a few slipped through the cracks. It's a huge relief but obviously no place is too safe so I'll give it a 1 out of 10 for safe measure.

Pretty astonishing I'd say. FamilyWatchdog can either scared the living baJesus out of you or it can put your mind at ease. Should you just use the normal deadbolt on the front door? Or should you reinforce it with oh say, a chair or a spare mattress? Should you jog around with just mace? Or should you bring mace and Hank, your Doberman? Do you want to know? Or would you prefer to be surprised? You decide. Once you discover this website, you'll probably sit there for a good hour or so looking at criminals in your area and areas you know.

Lift with your back

2010-06-25T16:07:00.000-04:00

CHARLIE: are you lifting with your back!?

MAC: Of course I'm lifting with my back Charlie, okay? but I think your end is just lighter cause the balls have rolled down to this end

CHARLIE: nah you gotta snap your back up & lift...that's your problem

MAC: I'm jerking my back up! what do you want from me?!?

Ahhhh moving...I used to enjoy it...I used to enjoy being in new places...I used to enjoy organizing my things...but today? Not so much.

I'm in the process of moving to Ann Arbor. According to my calculations, this will be my third move of 2010. Excessive? Lil' bit. Am I going to move again this year you ask? As a matter of fact, I'm scheduled for another move in August. Should I be used to the packing, the moving and the unpacking by now? Why yes, yes I should. Am I though? Nnnnnope!

You would think that, after my latest lifetime count of...17 moves, working on 18, I would be an EXPERT in all-things-moving. You would be wrong in thinking so. Despite my multiple residences, storage rentals, and borrowed basement space, I have yet to figure out how to live lightly. I still feel the need to hang on to the boombox that I haven't used since 2004, the heels that I bought for Easter Mass back in '03, and the box of Bic Pens I bought for Junior year of High School. I guess I could be considered a borderline Hoarder...I can get rid of things, I just prefer not to if it has some use in it. To get rid of a useful item would be down right wasteful. I know what you're saying, "you should just sell it on CraigsList." To this I answer, that's too much work. And believe you, me, I have tried to sell two things on Craigslist and I did not enjoy the experience - it was hardly worth it. All the emailing back and forth, the coordinating, the bargaining - I'd rather give it away to the Salvation Army.

Moving should be an enjoyable process. Once you get over the hump of beginning to pack, you have a chance to purge the old and bring in the new. Well, it's a good theory but how many times have you found a box of "stuff" and said to yourself, "I'll sort through it while I'm unpacking." Yeah - who are you kidding, that box of "stuff" is going to follow you until you retire. Your grandson will stumble on it many years later only to find a vintage Tamagotchi, a Mariah Carey Cassette tape, a 1998 recording of the Grammy's on VHS, and several started, but never finished knitting projects: scarves, purses, hats, you name it. Jack. Pot.

When all is said and done; you have your boxes labeled, furniture broken down and everything readily accessible, you must now assemble a team of movers. A group of moving veterans, if I may (and preferably someone with a truck). You set the date, order a pizza and you're good to go. I mean, who wouldn't accept a slice of pizza for hours of hard labor?!?

So now you're nearly complete. The boxes are in, the furniture is in, you're in the homestretch. You begin to set up and realize you have...nothing. You won't be able to eat on the first night because you realize you have no microwave and no pots and pans...[I'm speaking from very recent experience here]. So what now? You have to go out and purchase a butt-load of essentials and you end up spending a small fortune. Fantastic! You have everything you need to live off of. Oh wait...now you need food!

It's a never ending cycle. I've been through it time and again (and again and again) and I cannot get the hang of it. Each and every time I move, I learn something new:

Lesson the First: I am the QUEEN of frivolous spending. Bow before me.

#B.) Ikea Furniture - One time assembly. Trying to disassemble it? Goooood Luck.

VIII.) If I haven't used or worn something in the past 12 - 14 months, I should probably give it away (doesn't mean I have, I just think I should.)

9g.) Just because it all fits in the box, it doesn't mean it SHOULD.

Good luck to those of you moving this year - I would offer to help but, like my student loans, I'm nearing my maximum annual allotment.

Where are you taking me WOMAN!?!

2010-06-22T16:11:00.000-04:00

So, I am not ashamed to say that, without technology, I would be lost. Literally & figuratively. Without a phone, what would I do in the awkward moments where I have to wait in line at the mall? Would I have to just stand there? Patiently? F that! Without a computer, how could I shop? Would I have to PHYSICALLY drive to the mall and search with my eyes to purchase things? And walk around on my own two legs? How would I know the balance of my bank account? Would I have to balance a checkbook with a pen and a...what are those things called...calculating thingy? Without my Zune, I would have to listen to the same 12 songs on the radio or worse, I would have to listen to nothing! Without TV, I would have to read or do something even more boring like play a board game! And most importantly, without my GPS, I would get lost every single time I got into the car - driver or otherwise.

There was a time, not long ago, when I relied on printed directions from Mapquest. Pfffft...I know - ancient! Not long before that, I relied on hand written directions given verbally. Those were simpler times but I've upgraded to a Garmin - Sophie Garmin, that is. If ever there was a person who needed turn-by-turn directions, it's me. I get lost going almost every time I get into a car. If I don't have SPECIFIC directions there's a 25% chance of me taking a wrong turn.

Lately I've been noticing how dependent I've become on Sophie. Sophie could LITERALLY take me anywhere and I wouldn't notice because I trust that she knows where she's taking me. I live very close to Canada too so don't be surprised if I come back from a trip to the grocery store 4 hours later with a hockey jersey on and I start saying "aboot". While I'm driving with Sophie, I often find myself asking, "where the hell am I?!?" "I thought I was supposed to go South, aren't we going North right now?" Much to my dismay, she never answers me, she just directs me. Believe it or not, I still take wrong turns even though Sophie tells me what to do. I'm just waiting for her to say, "No no no. What are you doing? I didn't say turn yet ya dipshiyat!" But instead, she's polite about it and simply says, "recalculating."

As trustworthy as those things can be, sometimes it can't find the street you're looking for. For example, over the weekend, I had to find a Hotel in the middle of nowhere. I had been there once but with someone directing me. So I decided to type in the address and let Sophie get me to where I was going. Well she wasn't having it. I tried to type in Moxie Lane and it would come back with Mox Road. Similar but not correct...now what? I ended up doing the work for her and searched for a business nearby - and I typed that in. What would have happened if I couldn't do that? I don't have an atlas in my car. I don't have GPS on my phone...I would be forced to stop off at a local gas station and ask for directions. No more turn by turn, no more "ETA" at the bottom of the screen...what a frightening thought. It's like losing your calculator on a simple addition test - you could do it but you've gotten so used to using the calculator that you second guess yourself.

Sophie, you are my eyes on the road. I'm not sure how I survived without you but know that I don't want to find out. If only there were a Garmin for real-life decisions...