Friday, July 25, 2008
I call this meeting to order
If you don't have children or work with children, I apologize in advance for this post, but the other day, I laughed so hard I almost peed when I watched them eating. Is it me or does something in this scenario suggest a middle manager lunch meeting? Is it the glasses? The two handed oversized sandwich grip? The pained expressions? The "paperwork" on the table? The banana milk? So maybe you won't think it's as funny as I did, but at least it's not pictures of my cats, right? I really love these kids.
Tuesday, July 22, 2008
In Which NinnyBeth gives new meaning to the phrase Dirty Whore
Welcome to Boryeong. Peaceful oceanside town, ROK. Idyllic beach. Home of the "healthful wellbeing feeling of mud". And the not so healthful, wellbeing feeling of the Mudfestival (AKA foreigners with low self-esteem orgy). Kaja!
You say you'd like to go to the mudfestival? OK! First you have to nearly miss your Hana Tour bus and run desperately through pelting rain in the middle of city hall and accompanying underground subway mazes after chucking a 10,000 won at your taxi driver even though your fare was only 4,000. You should board your Tour bus (FINALLY!) wheezing and coughing, bright red and sweaty, to the cheers of your friends and the consternated looks of all the other patrons, because you have made the bus FIVE MINUTES LATE. And your skirt should be completely twisted around and manipulated so that the modest slit in the front is halfway up to your...well...you know. 
When you finally arrive at the Mudfestival, you will be grateful for the "energy pit stop" where you loaded up on choco digets and those little seashell cookies because there's a whole lotta wrastlin' to be done. And a whole lot of military men trying to smuggle massive beer bottles into the wrastlin' tub. You'll need the extra zip that korean snack foods give you to avoid getting maimed, molested or (shudder) ignored.
Here in Boryeong, we loll in mud while harnessed, strapped, connected, tied, attached, pulled, pushed and prodded on large blow up castles and other carnival-esque toys. Like your local church carnival? Remember?
Here's what you look like after the mudfestival has had its way with you...
And here's what you look like after the spicy hotdog and lack of sunscreen have done their job too....
And then you clean up in a $2 shower and go eat some yummy lunch in a restaurant that looks a little bit like a trailer.
On the way home, you will discover that the waterproof sunscreen you trusted is NOT mudproof. An old woman in the bathroom at the rest stop will slap your back and say "burning" as you examine your lobster red body in the mirror. You will appreciate the fact that she touched you and treated you like someone she knew...it means you are practically Korean (or seafood, as the case may be).
You say you'd like to go to the mudfestival? OK! First you have to nearly miss your Hana Tour bus and run desperately through pelting rain in the middle of city hall and accompanying underground subway mazes after chucking a 10,000 won at your taxi driver even though your fare was only 4,000. You should board your Tour bus (FINALLY!) wheezing and coughing, bright red and sweaty, to the cheers of your friends and the consternated looks of all the other patrons, because you have made the bus FIVE MINUTES LATE. And your skirt should be completely twisted around and manipulated so that the modest slit in the front is halfway up to your...well...you know. When you finally arrive at the Mudfestival, you will be grateful for the "energy pit stop" where you loaded up on choco digets and those little seashell cookies because there's a whole lotta wrastlin' to be done. And a whole lot of military men trying to smuggle massive beer bottles into the wrastlin' tub. You'll need the extra zip that korean snack foods give you to avoid getting maimed, molested or (shudder) ignored.Here in Boryeong, we loll in mud while harnessed, strapped, connected, tied, attached, pulled, pushed and prodded on large blow up castles and other carnival-esque toys. Like your local church carnival? Remember?
Here's what you look like after the mudfestival has had its way with you...And here's what you look like after the spicy hotdog and lack of sunscreen have done their job too....
And then you clean up in a $2 shower and go eat some yummy lunch in a restaurant that looks a little bit like a trailer.
On the way home, you will discover that the waterproof sunscreen you trusted is NOT mudproof. An old woman in the bathroom at the rest stop will slap your back and say "burning" as you examine your lobster red body in the mirror. You will appreciate the fact that she touched you and treated you like someone she knew...it means you are practically Korean (or seafood, as the case may be).Thanks Boryeong! Thanks Korea! Thanks friends! Thanks mud!
Thursday, July 17, 2008
What Demi Secretely Misses About Bruce
This blog is called NORMAL GIRLS for a reason and today I'd like to take it back to its uncensored roots wherein I talk about boys. Men. no...boys.
Last week, I tried something new. I went out on a date with someone much younger than me. 7 years younger to be exact. I thought this would be an interesting experiment for several reasons, but mostly I just wanted to hear my father call me a "cougar" (blech.blech. Seriously, Dad.)
All week long before and after the date, I processed the pros and cons of the younger man. The pros: young enough to not have gotten STUCK in freaky weird, still has all his hair, sexual peaks might actually be aligned, no heavy past stuff (divorce, children living in another state) or at least is blissfully unaware of that, none of that ugly "get married" pressure, sees the value of my life experience as COOL rather than intimidating (because he still sees the possibility of life...the dye has not been caste). All of this in addition to the fact that he actually ASKED ME OUT like, on a proper date, yo! That was pretty cool and definitely in the pro category. But in the end, the cons started to creep in in a big way...
I've always been older than myself. When I was 14, my piano teacher hired me to work for her consulting firm as a receptionist. When I told her I needed special permission from the government to work for her on account of my age, she responded with, "What? How old are you? We thought you were 17!" I spent that year selling commercial stoves to rich people who never knew that they were talking to someone not even old enough to have a learner's permit. Add to that the years of relationships in which I have stifled my thoughts and ideas in order to make a guy like me (DUH!) and my recent rennaisance as an uber communicator and you've got a recipe for a 23 year old freak out.
All I did was say what we were both thinking (this isn't going to work, but lets be friends!) in what I thought was a charming NB sort of way, but the result was 7th grade. The cute boy that I had a crush on figured out that I was stalking his locker and changed his class route. And I'm left feeling like the oldest jr. high drama geek you've ever avoided...er...I mean met. Oh well. ce'st la vie. At least the life of a would be cougar. Thus we see that the pros of the older man (which include but are not limited to: life experience, a sense of purpose/self, lots of dealings with weird, overbearing, psychotic ex-wives/girlfriends that make me look like a dream girl, knows who Milli Vanilli is when singing karaoke and doesn't think Blondie is a new "70's/80's revival" Band.)
I think the choice has been made for me. So if you are over the age of 28 and can tell me who sings the song that goes "pour some sugar on me, in the name of love...pour some sugar on me!" because you once owned the album...(though you're obviously embarrassed to admit it now)...let's talk.
Last week, I tried something new. I went out on a date with someone much younger than me. 7 years younger to be exact. I thought this would be an interesting experiment for several reasons, but mostly I just wanted to hear my father call me a "cougar" (blech.blech. Seriously, Dad.)
All week long before and after the date, I processed the pros and cons of the younger man. The pros: young enough to not have gotten STUCK in freaky weird, still has all his hair, sexual peaks might actually be aligned, no heavy past stuff (divorce, children living in another state) or at least is blissfully unaware of that, none of that ugly "get married" pressure, sees the value of my life experience as COOL rather than intimidating (because he still sees the possibility of life...the dye has not been caste). All of this in addition to the fact that he actually ASKED ME OUT like, on a proper date, yo! That was pretty cool and definitely in the pro category. But in the end, the cons started to creep in in a big way...
I've always been older than myself. When I was 14, my piano teacher hired me to work for her consulting firm as a receptionist. When I told her I needed special permission from the government to work for her on account of my age, she responded with, "What? How old are you? We thought you were 17!" I spent that year selling commercial stoves to rich people who never knew that they were talking to someone not even old enough to have a learner's permit. Add to that the years of relationships in which I have stifled my thoughts and ideas in order to make a guy like me (DUH!) and my recent rennaisance as an uber communicator and you've got a recipe for a 23 year old freak out.
All I did was say what we were both thinking (this isn't going to work, but lets be friends!) in what I thought was a charming NB sort of way, but the result was 7th grade. The cute boy that I had a crush on figured out that I was stalking his locker and changed his class route. And I'm left feeling like the oldest jr. high drama geek you've ever avoided...er...I mean met. Oh well. ce'st la vie. At least the life of a would be cougar. Thus we see that the pros of the older man (which include but are not limited to: life experience, a sense of purpose/self, lots of dealings with weird, overbearing, psychotic ex-wives/girlfriends that make me look like a dream girl, knows who Milli Vanilli is when singing karaoke and doesn't think Blondie is a new "70's/80's revival" Band.)
I think the choice has been made for me. So if you are over the age of 28 and can tell me who sings the song that goes "pour some sugar on me, in the name of love...pour some sugar on me!" because you once owned the album...(though you're obviously embarrassed to admit it now)...let's talk.
Wednesday, July 02, 2008
China will have some blankets!
The art auction was Tuesday... and man, it was better than I expected! So smooth, so perfect...
The music was lovely...Samia and yantzi did four numbers that were rockers and then I did a few of my more upbeat pieces (Ordinary, Love Song and Oh Seoul). I was oddly calm which should indicate the gentle feeling of Buddah's and the crowd. I'm generally a shakey basket case the first time I play a place. Then on to the auction. Someone from Worldvision did a tiny schpiel (don't know how to spell that) and then we had a moment of gratitude...you know to honor those who've lost everything by thinking about what we have. It was a great start to the evening. Then the bidding began...it was a little slow at first...the photos just weren't selling! Panic. Organizer panic... OH NO...is this the way the evening is going to go???? So on to some paintings and you won't believe it but the ones that I was sure would freeze the crowd were the ones that people went crazy for...the Vagina? 150,000 (I think)!!!!! Seriously.... there was even a tiny bidding war over it. Where are you going to hang that????
The people were fabulous. The paintings all sold. Anna's Last Supper of Oprah sold for 380,000!!!!! But the winner of the evening was the AMAZING dreaming of tree painting by my lovely friend Kelly that was more beautiful in real life. it went for 450,000 with some high rolling korean guy in the corner beating out Darryl (the owner of Buddah's Belly) in the end. Everyone clapped and cheered and there was ENERGY! So much beautiful energy. The crowd was intimate and instantly friends. Samia and Mike were perfect as the jokster auctioneers. DJ Anna is an absolute rock rock rock star. Darryl was understated and smiling. People were having fun, and best of all, we raised
DRUMROLL please.....
3.7 million!
Not our original goal, but who's really counting? Certainly not the children, friends and neighbors who will benefit from the generosity of these artists and art appreciators. I have some pics. I will post them when I have a spare moment.
Most of all I learned that I have the ability to follow through on a project that is self motivated. I have been worried about that with regards to India and Sixteen Stones. I can do this!
The music was lovely...Samia and yantzi did four numbers that were rockers and then I did a few of my more upbeat pieces (Ordinary, Love Song and Oh Seoul). I was oddly calm which should indicate the gentle feeling of Buddah's and the crowd. I'm generally a shakey basket case the first time I play a place. Then on to the auction. Someone from Worldvision did a tiny schpiel (don't know how to spell that) and then we had a moment of gratitude...you know to honor those who've lost everything by thinking about what we have. It was a great start to the evening. Then the bidding began...it was a little slow at first...the photos just weren't selling! Panic. Organizer panic... OH NO...is this the way the evening is going to go???? So on to some paintings and you won't believe it but the ones that I was sure would freeze the crowd were the ones that people went crazy for...the Vagina? 150,000 (I think)!!!!! Seriously.... there was even a tiny bidding war over it. Where are you going to hang that????
The people were fabulous. The paintings all sold. Anna's Last Supper of Oprah sold for 380,000!!!!! But the winner of the evening was the AMAZING dreaming of tree painting by my lovely friend Kelly that was more beautiful in real life. it went for 450,000 with some high rolling korean guy in the corner beating out Darryl (the owner of Buddah's Belly) in the end. Everyone clapped and cheered and there was ENERGY! So much beautiful energy. The crowd was intimate and instantly friends. Samia and Mike were perfect as the jokster auctioneers. DJ Anna is an absolute rock rock rock star. Darryl was understated and smiling. People were having fun, and best of all, we raised
DRUMROLL please.....
3.7 million!
Not our original goal, but who's really counting? Certainly not the children, friends and neighbors who will benefit from the generosity of these artists and art appreciators. I have some pics. I will post them when I have a spare moment.
Most of all I learned that I have the ability to follow through on a project that is self motivated. I have been worried about that with regards to India and Sixteen Stones. I can do this!
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