Hola, amigos! I am digging out right now, but wanted to pledge to you, dear readers, that I will post an update ABOUT MY vacation this week. That is my solemn vow. You should know it was amazing, even when someone asked me where I was from and I was all "America!" And they were all "You are in America, you jackass." And even when I was unceremoniously shat upon by a pigeon, because it wasn't just your run-of-the-mill bird crapping. It was a full-on SHIT ASSAULT that covered your blogmistress in warm, gooey bird poo and rendered me temporarily immobile.
"J? Oh my God, what is it?!"
"You just got shit on. By a bird."
"Oh my God? What the fuck? A falcon?" (Seriously, you should have seen what this bird of prey unleashed on me. My clothes needed to be changed. And probably burned.)
So a few minutes ago, I am in my office sorting through a floppity-jillion emails, grooving to the easy listening station. I was suddenly appalled. (Guys? that boogie oogie oogie song is playing. Come on.) I shot an email to Grace:
I listen to B 101 during the day. And I woke up at 4 AM in Buenos Aires and Dazed and Confused was on - and I was all shocked about what d-bags all of those people were and baffled that we thought it was really cool.
This is obviously what happens when you turn 30. I kinda hate myself.
To which Grace replied:
Show me someone who doesn't like soft rock and I will show you a liar.
This is why she is my best good friend. She nailed it!
More to come. (Like why was the song "I Adore Mi Amore" in our heads all week? Is that honestly the best Spanish song we could come up with? And other thoughts.)