No Internet, baby news and an award! Too much for two weeks!

After two weeks of not having Internet service at home because of some stupid cable and a storm, I'm back and have 2 beautiful things to tell you...

1- It turns out that I'm pregnant!! It's confirmed now, so I can yell it to the world... -I'm feeling kinda like Leonardo Di Caprio at Titanic in the "I'm the king of the world" scene. I still can't believe it and Leo either, but we're super happy about it! Now I'm all vomit and mood swings, but I guess it's just the first few months...

2- I've won a Liebster Blog award! Yay!! My adorable Just Keepin' It Real Folks blogging pal thought I deserved a Liebster Blog Award.... I'm soo happy!! I can't believe it! You've made my day =)



So, now, the Rules:

1. Link back to the person who gave you the award.
Just Keepin' It Real Folks is a blog written by an awesome and super funny lady whose name I don't know, but who makes my day just by reading her posts. She's incredibly hilarious and most of the times we share our opinions on different subjects. Her Wacky Wednesdays posts are the best! So, check it out! I really want to thank her because it's the first time ever I win anything and it's even more special considering that I won it by doing something I really enjoy, that is writing. Thank you, thank you, thank you! I'm really glad you like it! =)

2. Pick 5 deserving people and notify them on their blogs.

1.Good Youngman Brown. His posts are just awesome! He shares anecdotes and thoughts about the randomest things you could think about and you can get easily related to what he says. He really makes me laugh, so I strongly recommend his blog!

2. Crack You Whip is written by the adorable Tracie. She combines her sharp sense of humour with super funny drawings and creates very interesting posts sharing stories about her life or her thoughts. She's awesome! Besides, her comments are always very sweet!

3. The Transformed Non Conformist is a blog written by my fellow teacher Brett Minor. He shares anecdotes about his childhood, his children, college, etc. He was the first person who commented on my blog and who encouraged me to keep working on it. You rock, Brett!

4. The Filter is Off. This is a beautiful blog written by Karen. She's one of the strongest woman I've ever heard of. She's the devoted mother of a beautiful angel, Olivia, and shares all her thoughts without any filter. I was very touched when I read her blog for the first time, she's someone to admire, definitely.

5. Buttons are not currency If we talk about being a bit quirky and having a dark sense of humour, you can't miss Nellie Vaughn's blog. Her posts are the coolest ever!  Check on it!   

The best Valentine's Day ever

Okay, I know, it's been a while since I posted... This time I haven't been looking like a dying woman after trying to get tanned, I'm just back at work and school preparations for this year are taking longer than I thought...

Today's Valentine's Day and I couldn't come up with anything to give my fianceé, so I just surprised him with the possibility of me being pregnant... I'm a couple of days late, so we don't know yet, but I'll tell you all about it as soon as I do. I'm terrified because this hasn't been planned, but don't want to drive myself nuts over it yet.

I don't have much to say today... My mind is quite blocked right now! But I leave you something here for you to read that I found today... Of course it's dedicated to my man, who I love with every single beat of my heart!



"I love you" means that I accept you as you are and that I don't want to turn you into someone else.
It means that I don't expect you to be perfect, just like you don't expect me to be either.
"I love you" means that I will love you and be with you even through the worst of times.
It means loving you when you are on a bad mood or when tiredness forbids you to do what I wish for you to do.
It means loving you through moments of despondency, not just in joyful moments.
"I love you" means that I know your deepest secrets and that I don't judge you for them, asking in return that you don't judge me for mine.
It means that I have love enough to fight for what we have and not to let you go.
It means constantly thinking of you, dreaming of you, desiring and needing you; and expecting for you to feel the same for me.
"I love you" means "forever".

Happy V's Day, people!

The girl who looked like a grilled chicken



I looked almost like this after
being in the sun for too long

 Okay, so I've been absent from the blogosphere for a couple of days. Nothing weird happened, no third eye appeared on my forehead, no horns grew on my head and luckily I don't look like the Yeti! However, this silly random girl who's typing right now, wanted to get tanned... And ended up looking like a grilled chicken!             =( Actually, like an over-grilled chicken... So I had to be in bed and put on every single after sun I could find; also, while looking like a fresh tomato, I had to deal with people telling me to try every home-made remedy they could possible think about.

Now that I get to think about it, because for the last couple of days I felt like a tomato ready to become ketchup and my neurons were mushier than usual, I wonder why people say stupid things without caring about what the person they're talking to might think.

Yeah, this is my alter-ego!

I really hate people who say things just because they feel like talking. I think every day when they wake up they surely set a limit of words to be spoken that day, and they feel the need to fulfil that task so they don't give a shit for the stupid comments or remarks they might say. For example, I'm extremely white, right? Actually, according to one of my friends, I'm Casper-like white. So the other day, when some people saw me in my bikini said stupid things like "Wow! You're transparent!" "Are you feeling okay?, you look really pale" "My God! Look at your legs! They're totally white! It's creepy, you know?" "Why are you so white, E?". All those shitty comments made me want to smack the hell down out of those mother-fuckers and say: I'm white, so what? What's the big issue? Who looks like a grilled chicken after trying to get tanned, me or you? What's your fucking problem, then? 

Another thing that freaks me out is people who gives you all kinds of home-made remedies. I mean, it's not that I have anything against them, they are really helpful sometimes and I'd really appreciate it if any of you ever recommend one to me; but what I hate is people who sees you and gives you 5 different things you can drink or do to feel better. The other day, one of my friends came to see me and the conversation we had was something like this:

Friend: Oh, my God! Look at your skin! You're as red as a tomato!
Me: (thinking: of course, idiot, I'm sunburnt!) Yeah, I know...
Friend: You should put some Aloe Vera Lotion on it... You know what? My mom has this home-made thing: you have to take an old handkerchief and soak it into very cold milk and then put it on your skin. Or, you can boil some water and add oil, and whisk it until it's colder and it becomes some kind of jello, and then you put it on your skin. Oh, and there's another one! My granny used to put some tomato slices on my skin when I was sunburnt... Another option is...

And she continued ranting non-stop for 20 more minutes about home-made remedies and I ended up believing I was about to become a new kind of salad if I followed her advice.

Do you see why it was
such an insult to be
compared with her?

However, the worst thing handle is those people who tell you things like: "You really look like shit! Your face is all swollen...You look like Heather Locklear without make up!" or "Ugh, you have a blister on your lip... That's disgusting! Ugh, I can't look at you", oh! and there's another one even worse: "You definitely look like a leper with all that skin coming out of your face. Yuck!"

Well, there are two good things that I have to highlight after this "steamy" experience: 1- the other day, when I was feeling like crap and looked like a grilled chicken, Leo looked at me and said "You are all burnt and still look as beautiful as ever. You rock, hun!"...yep, that's my lovely man!; and 2- I look like Oprah (well, not that much... I'm extra white, remember?), but skinnier and with green eyes!

Yeah, I definitely rock!

Flying eggs, an exorcism and... Kevin Bacon

Today I'm having one of those days in which I'm more random than usual. I believe that's because it's very hot here in Buenos Aires, it looks like it's about to rain any second so it's really wet, the air is heavy and it seems I'm about to melt at any moment; therefore, my neurons are melting too.

This morning, after sleeping like hell at Leo's place and becoming mosquitoes' favourite dinner, I left for my zumba lesson.
As I was walking to the gym I happened to pass in front of one of those new churches which, I think, belong to Jehovah's Witnesses. From the outside it looked like a storehouse with new wooden doors and two huge brown crosses painted on them; one of the doors was opened and you could see about 10 lines of 15 or 20 white plastic chairs, a stage with a book rest and a microphone, and another huge cross on the back. It's not that I stood there and saw all of this, but it's not the first time I happened to pass in front of it.
Anyway, what called my attention was the voice of who I guess was the preacher saying "Leave them, demon! Let them be free!" and people saying "Hallelujah" after that. I was about to stop and peep through one of the windows, but obviously, I didn't. However, as I was getting closer to the corner of that street I could still hear them screaming "let them be free" and "hallelujah, brothers", so I ended up thinking that perhaps they were performing an exorcism? I was crossing the street and was still expecting to see Father Karras or Linda Blair coming out of this freaky church... Two bad neither of them did!

So I got to my zumba lesson, still thinking about Linda Blair vomiting something green and how I had emulated her once I got drunk and ended up throwing up some mint liquor I'd had a few minutes before that, and found out my teacher had based her entire lesson on songs from different movies. So today I got to dance "Footloose" song, yeah, the Kenny Loggings one. I was supposed to dance a bit like Ren (Kevin Bacon's Character), but as you already know, it's difficult for me to dance. So, while my friend looked like Kevin Bacon (who I still envy for dancing like that in final scene from the movie), I looked like Chris Penn, playing Willard while he was learning how to dance (remember "Let's hear it from the boy"? Danced by Ren and Willard?). Yeah, it was painful to watch, but I had a blast!

Then, as I got to my house, at some morning TV show they were talking about silly things adolescents do at school and I remembered IT. The day I almost get expelled from high school.
I know what you're probably thinking: A teacher? Getting expelled from high school? Well, yes, people! I was not Mother Therese, I was one of those students who loved joking and doing stupid things with her classmates. For example, throwing an egg against the blackboard while my Geography teacher was writing on it.
I must say I wasn't the one who threw it, but I was responsible for the idea. That lady was a huge pain in the ass and she was completely annoying. We were about to finish high school and wanted to make something stupid like that. She was the teacher who everybody hated, and we were the class everybody loved.
One day, she was writing on the blackboard and one of my friends threw the egg against it. She stood there frozen, not only because of the banging noise, but also because it had hit it a few inches from her.
After that, she ran away from the classroom, crying and the principal came. He threatened us, told us he was going to expel us all if we didn't say who had done that. We were called to testify in front of him, with our parents, but he never got to know who had the idea or who had thrown the egg. Finally, he didn't expel anybody because he didn't know who had done it, so he "dropped the charges" and we were able to graduate. I can't remember feeling more victorious than that day.
  

My neighbour, the tramp

Well, people, I think my next-door neighbour's a prostitute. Yeah, yeah, as you read it! I seriously think she's works as a prostitute. There's nothing wrong about it, it's the world's oldest job, isn't it? But, what is wrong is that she doesn't contribute with her neigbours' need to sleep at night. She doesn't contribute AT. ALL.

It all began when she moved to our building. I live in a beautiful city, with very beautiful buildings and houses. The people living in my building are mostly old couples, or very old single ladies; except for myself and my mom, a lesbian couple who lives in the flat above ours, and a very tall and good looking blond who lives with her midget husband. And a couple of months ago, this young-woman with her son moved to the flat next to ours. We supposed she was divorced because a man comes every other weekend, and some days during the week, and takes the boy with him.

About a month ago, it was Saturday night and I was alone with Leo at my place. We were having dinner when we suddenly heard something like a moan coming from the hallway, we were silent for a while and heard the elevator's door, a few steps in the hallway and a stiffed laugh, and then, the flat's door being shut.
The elevator is a fetish to some people, perhaps she was one of them, so it wasn't weird. We laughed at it.

Later that night, about 2 hours after the elevator episode, we heard some moans again coming from her balcony and 30 minutes later her flat's door opened, she went downstairs and came back into her flat only to go out again 10 minutes later. At that point, we were keeping everything quiet in order to listen at what was going on outside (yeah, I know, we were being nosy, but it was funny and we were curious about it). She came back up, and while she was opening the elevator's door we heard another man talking to her. 30 minutes later, a banging noise against the living room wall told us they were having fun.

At 1 a.m. I was woken up by her, shouting at the top of her lungs "YEAAAAHHHH, ALFREDOOO". Not only she scared the shit out of me, but also she woken me up and I really needed to sleep. I got up, trying not to wake Leo, to have a glass of water and while I was in the kitchen I heard her opening the door again. And I must say, she didn't make any effort to keep it quiet, she banged the door every single fucking time.

Obviously, you know what happened next... 15 minutes later, a new man came up. And so the night continued, with her screaming like a banshee and men coming to her flat every two or three hours. She finally got quiet almost at 6 a.m. and I was finally able to sleep.

Now, this has been occurring every time her son's at his father's house... And guess what? This weekend he's going on holiday with him. I'm so screwed. I think I'm gonna get some sleeping pills.