How the fuck did I get into grad school?
Honestly. How did that happen? And how the hell am I going to make it through the year when I keep doing stupid absent-minded professor things that nearly get me thrown in jail?
By sheer luck I happened to discover something this morning that, had I not discovered it, would've meant Arnaldo would finally have gotten me as I tried to pass through the airport. Three months in Latin America safe and sound and I get thrown in jail on the last day. No ending with a whimper there, folks, that's all bang.
Ok, ok, maybe not JAIL, but it certainly would've been complicated. And probably expensive. At any rate it's all fixed now. So don't worry, Mom and Dad, you're still getting to spend a wonderful month with your eldest before shipping me off to the Green and Pleasant Lands. Don't you love how each time you get rid of one child, another one comes home again? We're like those games at carnivals where rubber ducks keep popping up out of holes and you have to clock them on the head with a huge foam bat, and every time you hit one another one pops up again in a different place. Aren't you guys lucky?
Meanwhile without the daily deadline and the sub-editors breathing fire down my neck, I have returned with a vengeance to my procrastinating ways from the good ol' Queens days. Here we are, out of Patagonia and back in Rosario - and I have yet to discuss Chile, Ushuaia, El Calafate, Chatty Argentines, Favourite Argie Catchphrases, How Argentina Destroyed the Myth of the South Beach Diet, Yes He's Gorgeous But He's 17 Years Old You Filthy Cradlerobber, and all the other blog entries that I have completely drafted out in my head. I totally meant to write them yesterday but then unfortunately walked by a bookstore and realised that Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince has made it to Rosario, and that I don't have to wait til I get to Buenos Aires to finally buy it. Negra found me, hours later, sobbing in a pathetic, snotty heap over the ending. My cool kid status has been officially revoked.
Setting all that aside, we are back in Rosario and the weather feels just like a Canadian spring - a nice change after de south. It's starting to end. It would be sad, but there's a sunny month ahead of me filled with unemployment, Hangover Sundays, the Dish Nazi's return to the Rock, ladies lunches, hen nights, and the triumphant, winey revival of the Dinner Club - and then Inglaterra. No wonder I can't concentrate enough to write about all these amazing things, everything's amazing right now.
I'm still not sure how it all happened but I'll take it.
And YES, Dish Nazi, it is impossible to concentrate with the messages flashing!!
By sheer luck I happened to discover something this morning that, had I not discovered it, would've meant Arnaldo would finally have gotten me as I tried to pass through the airport. Three months in Latin America safe and sound and I get thrown in jail on the last day. No ending with a whimper there, folks, that's all bang.
Ok, ok, maybe not JAIL, but it certainly would've been complicated. And probably expensive. At any rate it's all fixed now. So don't worry, Mom and Dad, you're still getting to spend a wonderful month with your eldest before shipping me off to the Green and Pleasant Lands. Don't you love how each time you get rid of one child, another one comes home again? We're like those games at carnivals where rubber ducks keep popping up out of holes and you have to clock them on the head with a huge foam bat, and every time you hit one another one pops up again in a different place. Aren't you guys lucky?
Meanwhile without the daily deadline and the sub-editors breathing fire down my neck, I have returned with a vengeance to my procrastinating ways from the good ol' Queens days. Here we are, out of Patagonia and back in Rosario - and I have yet to discuss Chile, Ushuaia, El Calafate, Chatty Argentines, Favourite Argie Catchphrases, How Argentina Destroyed the Myth of the South Beach Diet, Yes He's Gorgeous But He's 17 Years Old You Filthy Cradlerobber, and all the other blog entries that I have completely drafted out in my head. I totally meant to write them yesterday but then unfortunately walked by a bookstore and realised that Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince has made it to Rosario, and that I don't have to wait til I get to Buenos Aires to finally buy it. Negra found me, hours later, sobbing in a pathetic, snotty heap over the ending. My cool kid status has been officially revoked.
Setting all that aside, we are back in Rosario and the weather feels just like a Canadian spring - a nice change after de south. It's starting to end. It would be sad, but there's a sunny month ahead of me filled with unemployment, Hangover Sundays, the Dish Nazi's return to the Rock, ladies lunches, hen nights, and the triumphant, winey revival of the Dinner Club - and then Inglaterra. No wonder I can't concentrate enough to write about all these amazing things, everything's amazing right now.
I'm still not sure how it all happened but I'll take it.
And YES, Dish Nazi, it is impossible to concentrate with the messages flashing!!
posted by SarahT at 7:14 pm
1 Comments:
You wet my appetite when you suddenly went off about going to jail - sooooo what happened?????
I want juicy details ok - your former "neighbour" at RG.
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