it’s on Tonight

You know that new song “Hips Don’t Lie” by Shakira and the guy from Black Eyed Peas the Fugees? OK, pretend you do.

Anyway, there’s this awesome part where the guy tries to speak Spanish. He says: “Como se llama, bonita, mi casa, su casa.” And Shakira writhes in front of him, responding, “Oh baby, when you talk like that, you make a woman go mad.”

So fellas, next time you’re dancing up on some chick at a club, try leaning in close and whispering, “What’s your name, pretty lady? My house? Your house?” Apparently it drives us wild.

The People, They Recieve Email

One million years ago, NBC Nightly News spent a day following Bryan around while he talked about how much email he gets. In case you missed it, the answer is: a lot of email.

The crew arrived at our house just before 7 a.m., followed Bryan to work, returned home with us, and stayed until about 7:30 p.m. From that twelve and one half hours of footage, they pulled approximately 15 seconds of airtime which aired June 20. And what a glowingly handsome, stately 15 seconds it was.

The newscast offered handy tips for conquering your swollen inbox. Tips such as “Send less email” and “Use the telephone.” I could feel my productivity doubling just watching it.

Photos here.

Insight fron an 8 Year Old

My niece and nephew come to visit for a weekend, and we spend a day on the town.

Me: Hey, do you want to go into that comic book store across the street?
Trevor: Comic book stores are kind of scary.
Me: Really? Why?
Trevor: Because the people in there are weird.
Emma: Really weird.
Me: What do you mean?
Trevor: Like, did you ever see Napoleon Dynomite?
Me: Yeah.
Trevor: They’re all like that, except in real life.
Me: Really?
Trevor: Yeah. And they’re saying things like, ‘My rhombut defeats your algorph.’ It’s really weird.

I’m kidding! About the brie.

Bird Sticker

Originally uploaded by MaggieMason.

A few firsts I experienced in Amsterdam:

Small bird stickers on the huge train station windows keep birds from smacking into them.
Raw sausages
Lights go from red to yellow to green.
Bitterballen, a bar snack that tastes like deep-fried gravy with bits of meat.
Soap dispensers that sprayed soap in a fine mist.
Soft and salty licorice.
Brie with a big hole in the middle of the wheel, making for easy slicing.
Sex with a prostitute. (Okay, three prostitutes.)

Panic

Three peaches are ripening on the counter in a brown paper bag. I reach in and press them with my thumbs to see how they’re coming along. When the flesh gives, I scoop them out, and the smell of ripe peaches is sweet and soft here in the kitchen.

I put the fruit in the refrigerator to chill and lift the bag to my nose. It smells as though the peaches are still inside, so I close my eyes and press my face into the bag.

I open my eyes just in time to see the neighbor across the way doing his dishes. His kitchen window is few feet from ours, and he is staring at me. Me with my eyes closed, breathing into a paper bag.

Amsterdam Stroll

A couple rides by on their bicycles, his hand on her back, her hand clasping his. At first we think he’s helping her up a small hill, but they continue riding that way for blocks and blocks, holding hands until they’re out of sight.

Squandered Opportunity

When you picture traveling to Europe, do you imagine daydreaming at a small cafe over cappuccinos, cigarettes, and a journal thick with creamy blank pages? Yeah, me too.

Our whole trip was like that. Except we don’t smoke. Californians are annoying that way.

Call Me Hans

Originally uploaded by MaggieMason.

On Alda’s advice, I showered very thoroughly before entering the lagoon, but ignored the posted warning that I should somehow obtain a bathing cap because the water dries your hair. By the time we left, my hair felt like a wad of wet cotton balls. Even after a shampoo, I couldn’t get a comb through it. I couldn’t even run my fingers through it. When it dried, it collapsed flat against my scalp, creating a flattering German schoolboy effect.

I managed to yank it up into a ponytail the next day, and when I removed the rubber band that night, my hair just stayed exactly where it was, piled atop my head.

Three pointless hot-oil treatments later, I was beginning to think I might have to Sinead it. I felt greasy and scratchy and irritable. Bryan convinced me not to shave my head and this morning, three days later, it has finally begun to regain flexibility. Who knows what’s living in there by now.

Going, going…

Many thanks to the folks who left travel tips in the comments section. I’m so grateful, especially to Amy who has a mild case of carpal tunnel after typing in her extensive and helpful recs.

We’re currently at the San Francisco International airport waiting for our flight. We totally scored emergency evacuation seats, but they’re in row 13 (so I have mixed feelings). A couple people mentioned in comments that they’d like to meet up, but didn’t leave email addresses. If you want to hang out while we’re in Iceland or Holland, please drop me an email.

Nice to meet you.

Bryan and I used to be broke. Broke as in, “I should get a job at a restaurant so I can eat this month.” Traveling is important to both of us, and now that we have enough money for food, we’ve made it a priority. So, though we just returned from Argentina, Bryan is giong to Holland for work, and I’m going with him. On the way, we’re having a stopover in Iceland.

So, what I’m saying is, want to get a beer? We’ll be in Reykjavik next weekend (June 2-4), and Amsterdam until June 10. And then it’s possible we won’t ever be back again. What should we see, where should we go, who the hell are you?