In My Defense .....

Nobody could have known -- it was unknowable! (word credit, Minoy) I submit to you guys, that it totally seemed like a brilliant and rational idea at the time....

So I decided to go to Baghdad (and when I say "decided" I mean was told, "You'll be going to Baghdad this summer. You may want to pack light...") in the summer of 2004. Back when the Iraq war was still semi-cool...back before they even elected a their first "government."

I also decided (after a year of being engaged) that I should get married at the end of that tour on my mother's birthday (see previous post for more info on my choice of date - I don't know how to link a post, do your own damn work).

I mean, it was brilliant!! - I'd be rich (and therefore able to pay for the whole thing so that my family would have no say in my plannin') and I'd have tons o'vacation time because I would have homeleave at the end of my tour (homeleave is the leave they give you after you finish a tour so that you can become an American again - God help us if the diplomats go native! How the hell would we be uppity!?)

What could possibly go wrong?

A few things I never saw coming and, therefore, didn't plan for:

(a) While in the warzone, you end up working 24/7, 7 days a week and there is no such thing as downtime. Turns out, that when forced to work AND live with my co-workers, I literally end up hating almost everyone and turn into the crabbiest of biatches ever to walk the face of the earth. SERIOUSLY people! By the end of my tour I was either irrationally angry about something or on the verge of tears -- those were my two "moods." (most people prayed for tears)

(b) It is difficult to plan your wedding from Iraq. Turns out the time difference and not being able to be there tend to impact your planning ability. AND, amazingly enough - your family and friends might not actually care that you got all up on your high horse and decided to pay for the whole thing yourself -- they will still spout their opinions!

(c) Minoy was in the warzone; as such, you may tend to feed off of each others' bat shit craziness and find yourself eating an entire bowl of mushroom gravy for dinner because you totally thought it was soup (in our defense, they made a large soup pot of gravy....there was no "meat" or "potatoes" to put the gravy on, and the pot was placed where the soup usually sits. ANYONE could have made the same mistake -- PLUS, it was kinda yummy...and clearly our gravy levels were dangerously low).

(d) Your life becomes focused on trying to figure out if it was "Mexican Day" at the chow hall because (other than gravy night) it was the only food you could physically swallow in that damn place (note to self: not being able to physically swallow the food and walking around with body armor in 130 degree heat is an EXCELLENT diet plan. To do: open fat camp in Iraq; Write weight loss book; Count your money!)

(e) At some point near the end of your tour after yet another person tells you that an 8 pm wedding is not convenient for them, and could you change it to 7 so that their kids could get to bed at a decent hour (after which - in a fit of rage - you declare NO KIDS allowed at your wedding - and you're still paying for that decision to this day) you scream at Josh over the phone not to even ASK you for a divorce because you're NEVER going through this shit again! EVER!!! (PS...Josh is a saint, I totally would have left me by now.)

(f) If you plan your wedding date itself for less than 7 days after you PCS back to the states, you will still be under the influence of your "moods." And, after one year of washing your hair in water that sits in tanks with chlorine in them and walking around in the harsh sun, your lovely brown hair will turn Orange (as if you used sun-in to try to give yourself those "Duran Duran" chunks of color that seemed like such a good idea back when you were in Junior High school). You might also find yourself screaming at the lady in the hair salon because "what part of NO RED and NO BLONDE did you not understand?!" until you see your mother's horrified face in the mirror and you realize that you have created this HUGE scene in a Spokane, Washington salon - so you storm out in a huff and stop at the store and buy a "DAMN BOX" and color it your own damn self -- medium brown -- however, HOW HARD IS THAT?!! It's BROWN you idiot! (SEE! I'm still angry about it to this day..BROWN! This is not rocket science!)

AND, the most egregious of all....

(g) You are not able to go to cake tastings - you will have to allow your MOTHER and SISTER to do this for you - and it is WELL KNOWN that they are not qualified to be cake tasters - they have not made it their life's work to become the greatest cake taster of all time! And that, my friends is an unspeakable outrage!!!

How It All Started....

One story that I have told over and over again (and it gets better every time as the years go by because I barely remember what REALLY happened at this point) happened during my very first posting at the Consulate in Peshawar, Pakistan. Pakistan was my first tour and almost my first venture overseas (Mexico for spring break and Canada pretty much don't count). So needless to say, I was ill prepared for it.

Back then, I was young (still in my 20s amazingly enough) and I still cared about doing a good job. I was trying to figure out what it was I was supposed to be doing (I have since discovered that nobody really knows and we're all just kinda winging it). SO I chose to emulate others, and the "others" were hosting dinner parties and smoozing with folks.

I sent out my invites to some local Pakistanis and other embassy officials in town -- and, thinking I was all "in the know" I indicated that the dinner started at 7 pm so that the Pakistani invitees would arrive by 9 or 10 (I learned this valuable lesson when I showed up ON TIME to a wedding, and found the hosts horrified because they were still setting up and not even dressed...)

So I'm standing in my kitchen cutting up cheese by the sink and my neighbor (a prominent Pakistani doctor) arrives at 7:30. So rather than freaking out (I did a little) I told him that he was the first to arrive and I was just cutting up some cheese and it would just be a second. He sat down at the kitchen table by the baguette I had already sliced up and I returned to the sink to cut the cheese up quickly so that I could offer him a snack - chattering nonstop to fill my nervousness.

I hear crunching, and then, "MMM! This is really good Pate, what kind is it?"

Pate? I don't remember getting any pate?..... and then I turn.....and my mouth falls open in horror. This influential Pakistani doctor (trained in America - which is why I invited him because he seemed so very "normal" to my small-town in Montana raised self) was dipping pieces of baguette into the canned catfood I had put out for my kitty Howard on the table. (I had to put the food on the table because Poods thought that stuff was the the shit and would try to eat it all, and a huge fight would ensue between the two).

That shit was tuna AND chicken flavor...it was in the SHAPE of a can and had that damned liquid "gravy" surrounding it. It was ALSO sitting in a bowl that had a kitty batting at a ball of string and some random fish all decoratively placed around the edges.... WTF man!?!?

There was a stunned silence while I started in horror and tried to think of something -- ANYTHING -- to say. I came up with "Tuna steak with chicken?" (gag)

"This is FABULOUS." Crunch, crunch..dip...crunch.

I was in a panic. People were going to show up - not everyone was going to fall for the pate excuse - and what if Howie.....SHIT SHIT SHIT. Howie walked into the kitchen, saw that the guy was eating his food (my pets take after me when it comes to food - you don't mess with that shit) and he stopped short, his ears went flat......Now I knew Howie...and he was my precious baby boy (but literally weighed almost 27 pounds - he was a BIG precious baby boy) but he was also sort of a jackass kitty. As if in slow motion I saw him crouch and leap for the table, and in a move that will forever be known as my Ninja interception, I was able to reach the table simultaneously and scoop Howie up before he planted himself in front of his bowl. With a, "bad kitty! He NEVER does that?" I took a growling and hissing Howie down the hall to lock him in my bedroom until I could sort this out. Howie was PISSED.

And then I heard the barking.

Poods had come onto the scene and was affronted on Howie's behalf that this man was in his food (seriously, everyone knew you didn't mess with his food!). This was an eff'in disaster! So I threw Howie into the bedroom with a "I'll give you real fish" and ran to grab Poods. Now luckily, Poods was still basically a baby (about 3 mos old) and the guy was pretty much unmoved by his bluster. So I scooped up Poods and went to put him away -- and the doorbell rang.

GOD DAMNITT!

It was my friend Kim and her Hubby. She took one look at my face and said, "What's wrong?!" I related the story (which her hubby thought was HILARIOUS) and she told me to just put Poods in the bedroom with Howie and she would handle this. (Kim was an EXPERIENCED diplomat.) She went into the kitchen, greeted the doctor and ushered him and the cheese and bread into the living room while her Hubby made me (and everyone else) a stiff drink.

I was sure we had made it...And we almost did.

After dinner, the doctor said, "you really MUST tell me where you got that pate! It was amazing. So moist, but it seemed to have chunks of meat. DELICIOUS!"

Kim spit her wine out on the table.

She pretended she had swallowed wrong, but the atmosphere was quickly disintegrating because she and her husband (and the other couple they naturally told) were trying very hard not to laugh, but were failing miserably.

I was trying very hard not to cry.

"Umm....I got it at the commissary here. It's from the US." He looked down the table at the people laughing and (with a smile thankfully) asked what was so funny.

I told him that they were laughing because Kim choked on her wine and spit it out. A disgusted look crossed his face and he told me that he simply did not understand American humor and could not believe that Americans would laugh at someone's distress like that.

Dude, you have NO IDEA.

The dinner thankfully ended with no international incident. Everyone at that dinner STILL laughs about that. The doctor continued to hint that he would love some of that Pate, and by the time I left Peshawar (two years later), I considered sending the doctor a case of Little Friskies.

I am still amazed that I did not -- because now, I totally would have.

I Can't Seem to Stop Myself....

I see something and I have to mock it. What the hell is wrong with me!?!? Honestly! I will try to be a better person, but tomorrow...okay?!

Found this in the gift shop I toted our visitors to yesterday:

Front:

Back.....Priceless

They all said that....Everyone one of them on the entire rack of postcards! Naturally, the congressional delegation bought them all out....

See? I'm not the only immature one from America!

Tempted.....

Sometimes the temptation is simply too great - and you give in. You make some bad decisions - perhaps there was some bacon vodka involved and you simply do something that you know you shouldn't do, but you just do it anyway. You know in your head that people will feel betrayed, will question your integrity and maybe even your sanity... and finally, you know fully well that God is Gonna Smote you.

But you do. it. anyway.

NO SHIT....There I was......

I was smack dab in the middle of it. There was yelling, there were fists raised and gestures made at us (very inappropriate gestures I might add!)

When faced with this obviously excited mob, did I panic? Did I cower? Did I cry? No way!

I submit to you that I DID NOT! I stood firm. I took my pictures because I knew that you -the blog readers - needed to see the type of situations I face on a DAILY basis here in Sudan (well, okay, maybe only on a weekly basis - technically on Fridays...whatever. I was THERE!)

Suffice it to say that I am truly on the cutting edge of diplomacy. I am SINGLE HANDEDLY making the world safe for democracy..... So I say again...NO SHIT!! There I was.....

Wait. They sent a cheerleader to the angry mob??

Oh yeah, that's right. I was at Nuba Wrestling -- in the VIP section.... My bad.

Seriously though, that SHIT WAS FUN. The first pics were pics of the crowd when someone takes a guy down. They literally run onto the "field" (and I use the term loosely) - people dance and they create a huge scene -- the police literally start to beat them back with sticks.

The wrestlers pull people's hair, throw dirt in their eyes and there was even some ball grabbing and twisting. And none of those activities is a foul. Nay, that is playing to win, my friends...playing to win.

These guys were ginormous -- would you (any of the boys that read this blog) want someone that size twisting your junk?? My god. That takes some ba.... oh wait.

It was friggin awesome. I totally cannot wait to go again!!! You guys GOTTA see this!! It honestly is worth the trip!

Okay, maybe not THAT cool, but if you're coming here - say to visit me - then it would totally be on your list of things to do.... I'm sure, however, that you would show up with alcohol, pork, and cake... RIGHT!?

The Great Bacon Debate...

So Minoy and I have been debating (over instant messaging at work - Yes, your tax dollars are going to a worthy cause here - because this issue MUST be solved) for literally a couple of days now and we obviously need a neutral third party to solve this issue.

Allegedly, there is a new vodka (and I know at least one of you out there (who is not you, Minoy! SHEESH!) who claims to be a vodka affictionado) out on the market: Bacon flavored Vodka:

http://shar.es/mTUn Bakon Vodka is a superior quality potato vodka with a savory bacon flavor.

Seriously, I might not have mentioned this before because I've been so cake focused lately, but I LOVE bacon...and I mean, I LOVE it - if it were legal, I would leave Josh and MARRY bacon. (although after the prop 8 fiasco in California, our love may be denied - I think this is technically prop 11, legalization of bacon marriage. It is deep, and it is real. Don't you judge me. )

Bacon just might rival my love of cake.

OMG...I just thought of something?? What would I do is presented with Sophie's Bacon Choice? Bacon or Cake...which one would I choose?? Okay, if we're realistic here, I think we all know I would eat them both and then hide the evidence from Josh -- but I digress.....

So Bacon is fab. And Vodka? WHO DOESN'T LOVE VODKA? There is seriously no drink I like better than a double dirty, ice cold vodka martini with extra olives (are you getting my salt fettish here too??) But Bacon?? Would bacon make it BETTER?

Minoy contends that it would. Her comment to me was, "I can't focus right now. I'm too busy imagining whether I would prefer a bacon flavored martini with a salt/paprika rim....OR....a bloody mary made with bacon vodka garnished w/ a slice of crispy fried bacon instead of a stupid celery stick."

She brings up a valuable point - that DOES sound yummy.

However, back in the day, when we were young and foolish (last summer), Minoy and I went out to this restaurant and we noticed that it had a key lime martini on the menu. Now I'm thinking to myself, its pie, it's martini - its WIN WIN. And it was....it was liquid pie!! It even had a graham cracker rim on the edge. It was, simply put, to die for!! So what would make liquid pie better?? ACTUAL PIE (dooy!). SO then we ordered a key lime pie for "dinner" with our drinks.

Let's just suffice it to say that you CAN have too much pie.

So I contend that Bacon Vodka has potential - but it also has the potential to go so very wrong. Can you imagine what a bacon hangover would be like?! The Trauma you would experience?? If you were in someone else's house (because Josh would never do this) and someone was making bacon for breakfast after you drank bacotinis all night??

OH THE HUMANITY!

Did anyone ever even stop and think what could potentially to happen to the millions of people (read me) who drank vanilla vodka and coke back in the day when it was cool?? And then when they realize that said vanilla vodka and coke is sooo yummy that that innocent person inevitably drinks too much vanilla vodka and coke -- so much so, that the victim in this scenario (whom I am sure is both charming and stunning) can no longer drink or smell the regular or even diet vanilla coke without getting that queasy feeling?

What is the RISK vs gain in this equation for bacon?! CAN WE RISK IT?!

OMG. I just had a BRILLIANT idea - if vodka would make a cake flavored vodka, just THINK of the possibilities!! Because YOU KNOW I'd totally drink the shit out of that, right?? So then, MAYBE, just maybe, I would get that same queasy feeling I now get with vanilla coke and key lime pie (please don't even bring up the appletini, it makes me gag)! THINK ABOUT IT!? We could expand that line to pizza, french fry and cheeseburger vodka.

I may have just cracked the drunken fat pill for pigs like me who cannot do anything in moderation!

I realize you guys are obviously clammoring to provide your comments and effusive praise for my newest get-the-fat-out-without-actually-working-out scheme.

Feel free to send me your thanks in the form of cash donations. I suspect that after work finds this blog, I'm likely going to need a plan B.

The Cure for the Crapitude

So as it turns out, you guys weren't the only ones who has noticed that I have got a bit of a mood and a 'tude these days. However, although it actually hasn't been that hot here, in my defense, I've obviously got the onamotapia, an actute case of acidopholous, and probably a touch of tilipia. And, I'm tired and I need a damn nap! There is that too.....

However, that all ended today in what had to be the most hilarious event EVER since I arrived in Sudan waaaay back in March 2009. SERIOUSLY....ever. Now obviously because I have stated unequivocally (damn! look at all the big wordey-words I'm using tonight! How cool am I? Oh wait, I don't have access to spell check....oh well, you know what I mean...smart stuff.) that it was HILARIOUS - my retelling will likely fall flat. However, suffice it so say: funniest. EVER.

So my boss calls us up into his office for yet another stupid planning meeting -- seriously! Planning? So lame. Overrated. I say we wing it. What could possibly go wrong. They're Senators...who even knows who their State Senator IS anyway...AND (in addition) it was not MY state Senator (I think). So we go trudging up there and Anna is sitting on the couch, which leaves me the big girl chair. So I'm all excited because usually the big comfy chair is the first to go in these meetings. (So easy to nap in and not facing Paul's desk, so it is tough for him to verify the status of your awakeness -- he does enjoy pontificating.)

ANYWAY, so Paul starts blathering on about this and that and then Anna starts going over the schedule and who has to do what. Meanwhile, I'm sitting there fuming because I'm not going to one more damn dinner that doesn't even START until almost 10 pm and never ends until after midnight but that doesn't stop them from making me show up for work bright and early... and Paul stands up and walks into the bathroom and continues talking.....

So next thing I know I hear him START PEEING. I SHIT YOU NOT...the MAN WAS PEEING AND CONTINUED TALKING TO ANNA THE WHOLE TIME. So then I look at Anna and the others in Horror --everyone is staring at each other, mouths agape because WTF. Our boss, our fearless leader - the senior diplomat in the room is using the bathroom with the DOOR OPEN while he continues to pontificate.

BUT that is not it! NO! Anna continues talking to him, going over the schedule. So then we all start whispering, "holy shit! did he just f'in potty in the middle of a meeting?" and "Anna! STOP LOOKING IN THERE!"

So then he flushes.

And by this time I am literally crying I am laughing so hard. I cannot breathe, the others are flabbergasted except for Anna who continues on with her agenda.

So now I'm falling out of the big chair because I'm rolling around laughing so hard and am now starting to worry that I may indeed pee my skirt - but it is soo damn funny that no sound is coming out of my mouth - just tears running down my face.

So Paul finishes washing his hands (if he couldn't have the decency to close the door, he at least washed his hands. We must find something redeeming about him. I mean, my God! That shit is unsanitary!) and then he casually walks back into the room talking to Anna and sits back down at his desk.

I can see the others attempt to compose themselves because now he's asking people what the status is of this or that -- and they are trying to close their mouths and not make eye contact with him - but still answer.

So I am still dying in my chair - but I can't take it anymore. I burst out laughing and go, "What the hell?!?!? DID YOU JUST PEE!?" Because I mean, I realize at an Embassy we're supposed to be a "family" and all - but are we supposed to be quite so dysfunctional a family?? MY GOD! I say again...MY GOD!

So then Paul and Anna finally lose it and start laughing. Paul took a glass of water in there with him because he knew that we couldn't actually see him, just his legs because of the angle. Those two practiced it so that they could go on.

I seriously have never seen such looks of sheer horror on anyone's faces as everyone in that room had. To their credit, I was the only one who could not control myself. The others tried to go on, however, this is not some random fart that breaks the silence during a meeting (although, I have to admit that I can't control myself then either because that shit is just funny!) HE WAS PEEING.

So you can all thank Paul for bringing me out of my funk; however, I am probably going to need some serious therapy to get over this one.

Six Reasons Why....

Jane at Gaston Studio is once again making me do homework! You know, I feel all kinds of pressure these days! Pressure to "listen" to my husband, to keep up on my blog, to succeed on my quest to be the greatest commenter of all time and, frankly, from my other passion - ruining other peoples' lives whom I believe may have wronged me in some way shape, or form -- soooo, my point is... I gotta lot goin' on here! Therefore, I ask you, when does this leave time for me true "work" here???!

So the lesson I take away from this is that clearly Jane is trying to sabotage US/Sudanese relations. Coincidence?? I think not!

Exhibit A: Jane spent time in Bahrain and Egypt - yet she CLAIMS she is American. I submit to you, HOW could an American lady - all cute and Julie from the love boat looking - run around the middle east without being accosted by Iran (for calling people Ayatollah when she wanted to turn left) or Asbestos? HOW COULD THIS BE?! It is UNPOSSIBLE.

Exhibit B: Jane mailed me a box full of brownie mixes (which I LOVE, FYI) and now I'm all distracted yet again, and am actively considering calling in sick with mesopotamia (which I believe is the precurser to mesotheliomia) so that I can sit on the computer, spout my nonsense here and on your blogs, and proceed to eat an entire pan of brownies. Why is this her fault you ask?? BECAUSE it is well-known that I am pretty much a cake/brownie-ho. Everybody knwos this - SHE is simply trying to exploit this weakness.

Well played my friend...well played.

Anyway, Jane wants me to list 6 things that make me "happy" and then make some others do the same. Well JANE, you are NOT the boss of me!! I will list your six things - but I'm not going to tell anyone to do the same unless they feel like it. I will not be a part of the conspiracy!!!

SO, here goes:

(1) I am happy that YOUR congressmen all choose major holiday weekends to travel to foreign countries so that they don't miss any important bills or debates in Congress. I am also equally happy that this ensures that I also will not miss any of those important bills or debates in Congress....(I'll just miss any semblance of a weekend and/or holiday.)

(2) I am happy that a kajillion pictures were taken of me during this visit, and not one damn one of them was from the waist up! Don't the Sudanese photographers KNOW that the camera adds 10 pounds and that when presented with an entire pan of brownies as a dinner option, any American will choose to finish said brownies rather than making a dinner and THEREFORE the photographer should KNOW that they should NOT be taking full body pictures?!

(3) I am happy that I can finally sue the USG. In addition, after I buy the State of Colorado with my settlement money maybe, just maybe, if you're very nice to me and leave all suckey-uppey comments I might let you visit some of my ski resorts and my country home I like to call Denver.

(4) I am happy that Loudoun county pretty much forced me to write them three emails -- the last one ranting (I KNOW! ME??? Shocking!) -- so that I could have the PLEASURE of paying my property taxes on a house in which we do not currently live (Do you like how I restructed that sentence so that it did not end in a preposition?? I'm telling you, that was not easy!) I am also equally happy that they were all snotty to the person who was TRYING to pay her taxes on time. (I'm totally going to litter the next time I get back in the states in Loudoun County. Just try to stop me!)

(5) I am happy that I have now bought the same pair of shoes three times because I forgot I already ordered them and then I would go online and see them again and think they were adorable and that I had to have them so I would order them again....but they're SERIOUSLY cute shoes. Luckily for me, Sudan has shoe melting technology coating their streets and parking lots, so I will probably wear through those extra two pairs of shoes before Josh arrives (and therefore he will never be the wiser).

(6) I am happy -- oh, who I am kidding?!?! Today!? I'm frankly NOT HAPPY!

And now you aren't either! HA! And there is NOTHING you can do about it....

Welcome to my world bitches!