The usual shpeel from me to you

You assume that with my uninterrupted pause over my writing since last week, that I had the most boring week ever… as usual, you assume wrong.

First of all, I went from being in a job for no more than 9 days to having a promotion in no more than 2 months… you heard it people: I’m a big top shot business woman; and as my brother –in-law put it: I will not stop until I’m in the Forbes list as one of the most influential women in the world (or in my house if it’s more doable... I know when to compromise).

Then I received my mother’s visit.

We don’t have one of those typical "mother and daughter" type of relations. We don’t see each other very often because of our different living locations and when we do see each other is usually to try and NOT to kill each other in the process (mainly me killing her) and have a good time with the remaining time left between the greeting and the killing part.

I’ll be honest though, this time the wind was blowing exactly right and we actually managed to have a good time (I can see the surprised faces of my sisters now, almost spraining their faces while reading this) so no blood or murder-type confessions to make.

My routine is pretty much the same. I won’t bore you with my commuting time, assassination impulses, ranting episodes or deprived sleep behaviour… as I told you since the beginning of the post: this is my usual delivery from your perfectly balanced and sane employed, housewife, to my dear reader who after Facebook, emails, BB and WhatsApp, manages to save time and read my incoherent thoughts.

Well, I can always give you my Crayola so you can paint your world and make it interesting and pretty… However, my world is going to get the looks of its owner, so go get your own blog!

PS: If you’re planning for a night out to laugh your guts out in the Big Apple, don’t miss Cirque Du Soleil’s Banana Shpeel… not your usual Cirque, nor your usual theatre event either, rather a mixture of a stand up comedy and clowns… or better yet: a stand up comedy for clowns! (No… not you).


Banana Shpeel: www.CirqueDuSoleil.com/BananaShpeel

Who’s right in a married couple’s discussion?

Thanks to my love for Lady Gaga and her incredible songs, I’ve mastered the difficult art of a perfect poker face.

With this incredible attribute I get to maintain a cool composure even though I’m picturing murdering feelings inside my head… and let me tell you, they’re vivid as hell!

Most of the time, these feelings are directed towards impertinent individuals that disturb my gazelle-like travel through life…

Like the lady standing in line in front of me at the supermarket who can’t find his wallet in her over sized purse; or the taxi that stops in the middle of the street to aid a hailing customer; or to our doorman, when he sees me, heavy with groceries, and walks at the pace of a snail towards me to open the door… pretty much everybody in my social and working life has been honoured with my bright imagination; however, in my personal life (being my husband and our dog) the impulse of assassination it’s not frequent - I think my mind gets tired with the over worked daily routine – at least, not enough to arouse suspicions of my interlocutors (namely my husband).

Every time we have a difference of opinion and are trying to get in sync, I think about calming and soothing things to control my building rage.

I mean, how is it possible that he can’t see the things as perfectly and clearly as I see them?

For me it’s obvious that I’m ALWAYS right and in those rare occasions that he gets to have the correct assessment, I prefer to drop dead on the spot rather than to give him the benefit of righteousness.

However, if you’re planning on a happy and long married life together with your hubby, it’s inhumanly possible for them to accept your truth every time; so even though you know you’re right, you’ve to bend a little and give him the winning hand… just for their sake of course.

This doesn’t mean that you can’t rebel about it.

I always use my household tasks as a payback.

When I’m folding his clothes, I make a perfect mess to improve wrinkling, or I put the dirty pillow cover in his side, or I let our dog walk over his pyjamas and then I fold them neatly in his drawer, or I use his shaving machine for my underarms… not that he’s ever going to notice… well, maybe now that I’m confessing in my blog he would be more aware of this little details.

Nonetheless, there has to be a reward for being so unselfish and offer them the precious gift of the last word in a discussion: Yes, Honey!!

Greetings form a non-murdering feelings individual, with the purest heart ever!!

It hit me: living far away makes people forget you

As you know, I’m from Argentina and all of my family lives there. When I say “all” of them, I want you to imagine a huge group of people, roughly 60 relatives directly connected. I’m not talking about second cousins or distant relatives; 60 blood bounded individuals who get together every weekend for barbecues and know all the family secrets that cook below the surface.

This weekend was a long holiday in Argentina, remembering the Revolution and independence… in other words, there’s always a good excuse for some little time off.

My father has this strange ability to be like a magnet to every family member in need of a Holiday place. My stepmom always has to buy groceries for 30 people, even though at first, only 12 where going; because between the moment when the decision gets made and the get-go, the phone doesn’t stop ringing and every cousin, uncle, boyfriend, husband, wife, friend wants to join the party (they’re so predictable).

I always try to call them during these oversized family reunions because with one phone call I get to talk to everybody and hear about all the family gossip that I missed because of the distance that separates us.

They climb on top of a water mill to get some signal in their cell phones, so there’s always this creepy feeling when I call, that someone is going to fall over their asses on the ground and I’m going to be held accountable. I hear the wind and how they switch hands with the phone and all the time I’m like:

Me: Are you there? (I was talking to someone but there’s another one of them in line to talk to me)
Them: it’s my turn now… Hello?
Me: Who’s this?
Them: Hi! It’s me… (No idea who that is). You’re missing so much… wait, I’m switching hand because the other one is getting cold (its winter there)…. Much better now.

And while they talk, I cannot concentrate in another thing other than the fact that they’re hanging 90 yards above the ground, on the top of a water mill!!

My father never climbs up to use his cell phone, country house for him it’s the freedom of being disconnected from the world. However, in this particular weekend, he ascended to the top and waited in line for his turn after all my siblings and cousins bombarded me with news and greetings.

It is not unknown for fathers with a brace of daughters to reel off their names in order of ease of memory when summoning the estranged one that lives abroad. I had long ago become accustomed to being: “Sofia… Dolores…Pilar… Damn it!"

This is his usual greeting for me… I got baptized with only one first name, but circumstances greeted me with the longest first name ever… can you imagine if all my big sisters where in fact brothers?

So much for self-esteem and being unique in a family nucleus… greetings from me, or her, or her.

The ending of my Fall TV Series brings me to the harsh reality of the boring Summer TV Calendar

I think I’m not the only one that would miss Jack Bauer’s 24, or Lost’s never ending rescue of that god forsaking island… but most importantly, Grey’s Anatomy and Vampire Diaries would have to wait until September to return to our schedules.

I find Summer Series really boring… True Blood is the only TV show disturbingly enough that gets my attention, but with all the vampire things going on, it becomes another insignificant program.

We still have some Glee episodes left (for the happy smile of my best friend who shares the liking of this show with me even though my husband thinks it’s the most girlish, childish, ridiculous show ever and runs out of the room every time I start singing along – which makes me wonder if it’s for my voice or the show… mmmhh).

For the lovers of a more “detectively” show, Castle and The Mentalist would be much awaited for (and please don’t ask: Castle who?).

I’ll have to resource to my books for some entertainment, and the cinema, with a much awaited Sex and the City 2 and Eclipse (another vampire thing that we all love… ahhh, so you don’t have to ask Edward who? Ehhh????)

I have a pressing presentiment that I’ll be receiving several visitors this summer… it doesn’t matter if it’s the liking of a cold Christmas season or to visit a flowery Central Park, tourist from our families always have the best excuse to land in our apartment.

Luckily, I’m a working wife now, which is the best excuse to run away from the sightseeing and museum hoping activities. Who can endure a hot Manhattan day while being a tour guide for the hundredth time?

Looking forward for the summer season in our Big Apple… no visits to the Hamptons though, when you have a husband from the Dominican Republic, it doesn’t matter how convincing you can be, nothing beats a beach in the Caribbean… common area pool for me.

An antibiotic that doesn't exist, an erupting volcano (and not of gas), Boston and the city of Amsterdam... that's what you missed on: ME!

Sorry for the delay, I was dying to write about my amazing life; however the timing was always awful.

My husband and I traveled to Boston for his Master’s graduation. Considering that being in enclosed spaces while in inactivity makes me nervous, a four hours trip unable to move brought all of my impatience afloat and I could hear in my husband’s voice that he was resisting the urge to strangle me… strangely I get this a lot… I’m still alive so his endurance is admirable.

We attended a Stand-Up comedy event (which I found quite therapeutic) where a 40 year old mom beat the tears out of our eyes and was even funnier that the two leading male comedians (www.momicillin.com); so much for boring household anecdotes.

Then I traveled to Amsterdam for 4 days. Planes make me nervous also (what else is new?), but the fact that I don’t know the Flight Attendants in a personal manner prevents me from pestering them as I do with my husband.

Amsterdam was grey, a bit dirty (considering the garbage piles in every corner) and full of canals (Venice is a dry land in comparison). The most shocking thing where the “Coffee Shops” where instead of having a variety of coffee grains offered to you, you could have a decent “flight” without even bothering to go to the airport.

In my return flight I stopped in Iceland and I got a glance of Eyjafjallajökull… You expect that a volcano’s name would be easier to remember than this engulfing of letters forming an unpronounceable word. Can you imagine in the state of an emergency?:

RUN!!! Ey… Eyja…. Eyjakallajul… uhh??? THE F&^%ING VOLCANO IS ABOUT TO ERUPT!

Colossal error in name choosing let me tell you.

Between the road trip to Boston and the overseas flight to Amsterdam, I arrived at my house jet lagged, bored of restaurant food, tired out of my mind so the only thing that I could offer my husband was complete and utter silence.

A woman’s silence is wonderful to listen to… I think my husband would agree on that.

Beautify-Me process or Hard-Core movies?

I’m heading to Boston with my husband for his Master’s graduation ceremony and then I’m traveling to Europe for a work thing and I’ll be out of my house for several days, without the luxury of my dear manicurist, pedicurist, blow-dryer, hairdresser…

You really started believing for a minute that I was fretting about beauty, didn’t you?

Don’t you know me long enough to recognize that I don’t have that particular gene in my feminine contexture?

Nevertheless, since I’m traveling tomorrow, I needed to “re-touch” my natural and immaculate beauty (attained with several layers of concealers and age rejuvenating products that set the word “natural” out of the sentence) with a visit at the Nail salon.

As usual, I’m out of time and a lot of things in my To-Do list, and the most important of those DO things is going to the movies with my husband to see the recent premier of Iron Man 2.

I’m always complaining every time we decide to go to an action film because that’s the way it’s supposed to be!!

I can’t possible enjoy Terminator or Hulk or Transformers, I need to make him feel miserable and to appreciate my sacrifice, so when the next Chick Flick arrives at the box office, he must definitely take me (or else).

But, who am I kidding?

I love the thrill of the scenes, the explosives and bullets, but most importantly, who can resist a beautifully formed 6-pack on our hero’s chest? (No offence to every beer belly out there).

So this afternoon I need to head to the manicurist but at the same time, I cannot miss the movie with my husband!

Well, if it comes to a point where I shall decide the most viable and needed choice… please come find me at the Lincoln cinema, in the IMAX theatre, seated next to my husband, enjoying Iron Man 2.

Don’t reprimand me; I’m not your typical gal.

PS: After we enjoyed a night out, with dinner and a movie, I had to get home, make the bag for the trip, wash my dog, paint my nails and blowdry my hair... at 2 am in the morming I realized that Beauty is a tough price to pay for an Action Film.

I'm sixteen... going on eighty (la, la, la, la, la)‏

After my jam-packed birthday (considering that this year we were more than our usual three people – my husband, our aunt and me), my week passed by with “non-worthy to comment” incidents.

One would expect that being a business woman would add excitement to your life experience, but other than some highway crashes and some heavy rain, my days went by in a soothing mode.

Yesterday was my haircut day. I have one of those every five to six months because I can’t possibly fit that tedious task in my schedule.

Don’t get me wrong, I love to be pampered by experienced hair dressers and their top-of-the-line shampoos, but it pains me (and my wallet) to pay more than forty bucks to get my tips cut.

But after almost six months without stepping under the scissors, I decided that my hair needed a strong rejuvenating treatment.

As you might already guessed, I don’t know many salons, I don’t have a preferred hair dresser nor I care if he’s recommended or not. I just want to go in and out of the place as fast as I can, because to put it mildly, I get really bored with insignificant chit-chat while someone has scissors in their hands and I’m concentrating not to snatched them and beg him/her to please pay attention!! It’s my head we’re talking about!!

(Another Taurus perk that comes with the horoscope: we always want to control everything around us).

While Israel (the hairdresser’s nickname… even thou he’s Russian and his real name is Boris) was manning the scissors, chit chatting away and cutting my hair, I was holding my breath and counting to a thousand so I wouldn’t snap at him.

He did a good job, I’ll give him that… the only inconvenience arrived when out of nowhere he started analysing my hair, its strands and roots, if it was wavy, dyed, etc. and with pin-point eyes he grabbed a WHITE HAIR….

Do you know how difficult it is to find a WHITE HAIR in a blonde’s head?

My first white hair and I have the awful luck that it was found by other person without giving me the possibility to cut it from root before someone (other than me) knows that I’m stepping out of young, into ancient.

I’m 26 years old, one white hair (reported found, who knows how many more do I have up there) and have four more years to prepare for full decrepitude.

30, here I come.

http://dramaticsnyc.com

Birthday presents… not mine…and not an easy task

The secret of why my husband and I get along so well together (beside our awesomeness) is the fact that we’re both Taurus.

Not to crumble your spirits, but this sign is the best one of the Horoscope; what we lack in docility, we compensate with intelligence, affection and an unstoppable desire to succeed in our life.

So, as you can guess, considering that my birthday was last Monday, my husband’s is tomorrow.

I wanted to surprise him at his office so his co-workers could congratulate him and embarrass him, the way he doesn’t like it when it’s his birthday (such a considerate wife I am); so I cracked my skull thinking on innovative ideas to do after almost 7 years together (I can’t imagine what would I give him in 50 more years).

He has a sweet tooth the size of a house, but this craving only gets activated in front of Nutella, Dulce de Leche, Key lime pie or Pecan Pie… neither of those are proper birthday cakes.

Flowers, stuffed animals, chocolates and cup cakes were too girlie, I wanted him embarrassed, but I didn’t want me dead… so I opted for balloons.

In the comfort of my home (whoever came up with online shopping was a lazy SOB whom I love!) I surfed online in the millions of websites that offered Balloon bouquets (you’ve to use the appropriate word) and found the choice that most suited me: lots of colors, and a corny card (if I’m going to do the deed, I wanted to succeed with flying colors – too bad for my Taurus efficiency defect).

I couldn’t pick a regular cake to be sent, so I choose two of his favourites and made another online order for those.

If he wanted to pass overlooked, my gifts didn’t help.

Today, he received the Balloons and confessed that he entered his office from the back door, so nobody would notice the gift. Too bad for him, the bright colors didn’t let him walk by unnoticed.

The cakes arrived later in the morning and all his peers in the office, came by to congratulate him (and to steal a piece, of course!).

So, take note my dear minions, If you want to embarrass your cherished one, until their cheeks are all red and his hears are on fire, then mucho, mucho corny love for him!

1-800-Baloons: www.1-800-balloons.com

Buttercup Cake Shor : www.buttercupbakeshop.com

Now the problem lies, in fitting all my other responsibilities, into my work routine.

Human beings are wired to always have something to complain or pout about.

Doesn’t matter if you’re the King of Persia or a regular guy with a regular job, one would always want a low profile life and the other would always regret not to have born with royal blood and have lots of millions.

As Michael Bublé said: That’s life (or Frank Sinatra for the previous generation).

So now I’m working from 9 am to 4 pm, arrive at home 20 minutes to 6 pm, put on my rubber gloves and I summon the energy to scrub every place in our house, but if I choose to clean, grocery shopping and poop-scooping our balcony (Buono keeps doing his business even though he knows I don’t have time to clean up after him) have to be left for the next day.

On the other hand, attending my hubby is in my priority list; so if I’m too tired to do anything at home, I just cuddle by his side and harass him the rest of the afternoon, so he doesn’t feel that he’s been left out and I have the perfect excuse not to move a finger.

However, we manage as a team together. He helps with small menial task that in the long run, reduces my available time to do anything else.

Dinner is another issue. Who has time to cook a proper meal when you can’t even see straight, and the recipes gets mixed in your head. I’m opting to freeze some dishes, having an endless load of cereals and sandwich ingredients to get by during the week, and make more elaborated dishes during the weekends.

Dieting is always the best excuse. I always say that we should take care of our weight, and keep the line, when I’m not in the mood to go near the stove.

Having a blog damages all my chances to keep pretexts (because my husband is the first one to read my posts), so if you have some new ideas that I can use from now on, please write.

In the mean time, regards from yours truly.

Happy B-Day, Feliz Cumpleaños, Bonne Fete, Alles Gute zum Geburtstag, Buon Compleanno… do I need to make myself more clear?

Birthday days have their pros and cons.
Presents and family love are definitely pros.

Even though every family has that pesterer individual that calls you at 6 am, makes you talk with every member of their household (dog and maid included) even thou it’s too early for you to process any information and most importantly: WTF is he doing calling at this hour??

So you mumble incoherent sentences while the penance endures, and then hang-up, already sleepless and in a bad mood because you missed your extra 45 minutes of sleep.

Twenty-six years of experience and you still haven’t mastered the expertise of filtering caller-ID’s during your sleep.

But you cheer up, because nobody can ruin this day for you… until you open the window and rain is pouring uncontrollably, everything is grey and depressing and you wish your birthday would have been another day of the week, maybe Saturday or Sunday if you were lucky enough… but NO, Monday and rainy for you, missy!

Suddenly, the bed looks really appealing and you’re trying to make an excuse to miss a day in your first 2 weeks of work; but you man-up, lock your back straight, walk to the bathroom and wash the sleepy feeling away.

In our birthday, we always want to look our best, so I picked my nicest outfit and accessorized it with a headband, a present from my twin sister for when my hair is unmanageable and blow-drying sound really difficult.

I’m heading to the door, and suddenly I hear a heavenly music in my ears, because I just suddenly remembered that going down the elevator, parked in our garage is our new car!!

So God isn’t that mischievous, and you have a perfect day ahead of you.

All of a sudden, the prospect of driving 40 miles, shuffling the music in your iPod and accepting calls with the Bluetooth device imbedded in the car doesn’t sound so awful.

It even sounds glamorous.

Unsafe, considering the storm; but attractive, nevertheless.

So long public transportation, hello Doris!!

A new member of our “electronic” family is born

I’m neither dead nor kidnapped; I was just acclimating to my new job and time schedules, before I decided to start writing again... don't fret!

As some of you might know, my new job demanded a huge amount of commute time, as well as different types of transportations, all combined to allow me to go back and forth from work.

The peculiarities of this commute was that arriving in time was of the essence if I didn’t want to be left stranded in a deserted industrial NY area, with my husband having a heart attack while waiting for me at home.

So, being that our problem lies in reconciling our gross habits with our net income; we decided to buy our first car… all for the sake of my husband’s health and the improvements of having 10 more hours of leisure every week, of course!

I’m awful with highways and maps, I can manage to learn the perfect grid of Manhattan’s streets but unfortunately, learning a whole new area without getting lost in the process was too difficult for me, so a Navigation system was in order to accommodate my inabilities.

So now we have a talking car, which guides you around, let you know if there’s traffic ahead, where the best parking spots are, if there’s a hot spot restaurant nearby and manages my music.

Doris is the best travel companion ever, if you have seen the Nemo picture, you can guess why we named her that… my stepmom was the one with the idea, and now, Doris became another member of our electronic family, altogether with our 2 iPhones, the iMac, the Mac Book Pro, the Dell laptop, the super efficient refrigerator, our top of the line oven, the miracle worker dishwasher, the AirPort express, our Sony Bravia, the DVD player and our huge printer machine (an inefficient decision from my husband who believes that big is better).

No wonder that we have less time to read, talk, play board games and everything else that could occupy your time if you didn’t have all the other cool stuffs around you that distracts you from the other boring stuffs that earlier generations did before technology led light in our lives.

Thanks god for small favours… and Doris for reducing my commute time 2 hours a day and making my life easier.

Adding a bunch of new tasks in my routine list… sanity isn’t one of them

Having a new job can get you really excited and it can make you feel really accomplished, even more if the job involves doing something challenging and fast paced; however, if your nerve cells have been on vacation for quite some time, it can be a handful to get them back and running again.

I feel a pool of little creatures inside my head (because even thou they’re kind of lazy, I can vouch for their quantity… a lot of neurons!) stretching and welcoming the new activity pumped into their schedule; yet they still have the dual sensation of wanting to be back in my couch reading… so I have to concentrate to keep them at bay.

Lots of coffee is being propelled into my body, and the new tasks presented before them keeps them motivated and in movement. Naughty little creatures those damned neurons!

Well, who can blame them if the challenges of being a housewife for 1 year aren’t difficult enough to keep them awake?

In the meantime, my caffeine levels are on the roof, my liver is definitely suffering damaged with all the sugar I’m ingesting to wake up my nerve cells from hibernation, all the weight that I lost with my “Gall bladder diet” is being gained back up again (I can feel it in my butt) and the only thing that’s improving is my reading hours with all the train travelling that allows me to keep up with my books.

My advice is that you don’t ever should accept an offer from a job so far away… over 10 miles from home it’s too much of a pain.

However, if you do decide to accept it, make it worth your while… good compensation, big company, lots of new challenged and a bright future ahead of you… like me.

Don’t be jealous, I wasn’t when you were working and I was home cleaning.

Regards from your currently employed housewife.

Long Island gives a new significance to the word: LONG

Dear readers, do you remember the big fiasco from my past “job experience”?
I’m happy to inform you that I’m employed once again, this time for an American Corporation who was looking for a Sales Manager for the Latin American markets… I know, I know; I told you guys that I preferred a Marketing position rather than a Sales one, but in this particular case, the offer comes with such a big challenge, and such a big incentive, that it would be a crime not to say Yes (which I did).
Wait for it, here it comes… you know me too mucho to be expecting it: The down size.
I can resume it in one word: distance.
I managed (once again) to get a job 35 miles (60 km) away from this big island.
And even more down sizing, is the fact that it doesn’t matter that I live four blocks from the biggest trains station in NY (Grand Central); the train that I have to catch to go to work is in Penn Station, 13 loooong blocks from my home and two connecting subways away.
Well, no biggie, I’ll have to put up with that fact and focus my energy on more uplifting matters, as it’s the fact that I’m being paid for doing what I love.
I’m starting next week, so I still have some more days of free time… adding every one of those together, I think 730 vacation days was enough to regain my energy and get my act together (finally).
I told myself that I was going to get a job before my birthday, and I pulled it off!!
Many people tried to hook me up with important executives in big corporation; nonetheless, I got this baby all on my own.
Luck… I don’t need; so don’t waste your time wishing it to me…but let’s just hope that I can probe myself up to their expectations; because I’ll hate to be unemployed once again.
Regards from a Long Island executive, living in Manhattan, being from Argentina, with a husband from the Dominican Republic, dying to step onto the world!!
(Well, not over the world… ON TOP OF THE WORLD!)

Queens… not the crowns and scepters type

Buying Argentinean food in the Big Apple is not a difficult task, you can find it in every restaurant owned by an Argentinean guy, you can even find some in the Supermarket around the corner; however… buying cheap Argentinean food is a whole new matter (cheap being the key word in this sentence).
Me and my girlfriends have a routine, where every two or three months we go to a small Argentinean Restaurant in Queens and find all our delicatessens, made by Argentinean hands and most important: at a moderate price.
Since the winter came, with all its might and glory, we haven’t been able to visit Queens, nevertheless, this past weekend, my husband and I where too bored for words, so we decided to give it a try, sunny day and all.
It was my husband’s first time to accompany me to Queens, so he looked at me kind of weird when I hauled my empty luggage from our storage room and headed out the door… poor guy, he didn’t even know what was coming to him.
We took the subway, my husband, me and my pink empty suitcase, and started walking from the Junction Avenue Station towards the restaurant.
Needless to say that once you’ve entered Queens, you forget about where you are (New York where?), what is the main language (English who?) and most importantly, the prices!
After seeing so much “Manhattan prices”, being outside of the bubble gives you a whole new perspective regarding expenses.
El Gauchito is a nice little place just ten blocks from the station, it’s a cute spot to have some lunch, enjoy a nice dessert with lots of caramel spread and buy some international produce.
The guy at the counter already knows me, so I gave him my list of groceries, handed him my empty suitcase and seated with my husband in a small table by the window.
Let me tell you something about my husband that you probably already know: he is a gentleman.
Remember this, because I sure as hell didn’t forgot this fact when I headed out the door from my house, with my pink “empty” suitcase; and only one though in my head: I’m not going to be the one that brings it back.
After lunch we went to the counter, I paid our groceries and I simply stood there, while my dear husband (being a gentleman and all) hauled the suitcase back to the floor, pulled up the handle and headed to the door, followed by a pink suitcase, in a Latino neighborhood, soon to be hooping on the subway… with a bunch of tough, scary guys… with a suitcase (PINK) and me.
Needless to say that this was the first and only time for my husband to come to Queens with me, from now on it would be a girlfriend’s only activity.

El Gauchito:
http://maps.google.com/maps/place?rls=com.microsoft:en-us&oe=UTF-8&um=1&ie=UTF-8&q=el+gauchito+queens&fb=1&gl=us&hq=el+gauchito&hnear=queens&cid=5825267050853122312

If I could ask for anything, the WILL to exercise would be it!

Supposedly, spring started like ten days ago, but with all the rain and the temperature drop, you would definitely think that we’re still in winter.
The last couple of days we had a huge storm looming above the east coast, so you can imagine how many times do I dared to get out of my house… NONE is the answer.
Today, the sky is clearing bit by bit, it’s not raining anymore, and more importantly, the temperature started to pick up, so it’s a bit nice outside.
However, I have a friend that even thou she weights as much as a feather and we all remind her of that fact every time we see each other, she’s convinced that dieting is the answer to all her prayers, as well as exercising… so she wasn’t satisfied with her state of mind of loosing weight, she most definitely needed someone to be in that state of mind with her.
What a better choice than me? (she though that the “Gall bladder diet” wasn’t enough).
So she decided to turn my life a living hell by inviting me to walk around the Central Park at 10 am in the morning, in a more or less nice day (she couldn’t wait for the spring to finally arrive… a grey day was enough for her) and I would even need to get a bus to go to the meet up place.
For me, exercise is like this boring word that involves doing something even more boring.
I would be completely up for a vaccine to be a sports person; I would even sign up for the testing processes.
But no intelligent scientist has managed to come up with THAT idea; they’re stuck with other more trivial matters while we, the unsporty people are stuck with lies and excuses to evade the outdoors activities that include running, jogging, walking, exercising… and all the others “ing”.
Just so you know, if she would have said: “let’s go to the Central Park and talk while we walk”, it would have been a different situation…
For starters, I would’ve said YES!
But as soon as she included the E word in the sentence, all was doomed for me… everything was black… pitch black!
Blame my father and his convincement that he had three little boys, no matter that every person told him that the long hair, the earrings and the girlie clothes most definitely meant that we were girls!
Well, no biggie… I’ll just have to come up with an excuse in, let’s say, 10 minutes…
Any ideas??

Feeling the need to clear some things up!

Dear blog followers:
I’ve received a huge amount of comments regarding my job situation (better yet, my jobless actual situation).
The reason why I decided to present my resignation to my former employer was because they offered a Marketing Position when I entered, a position that would be available for me after six months of working in their sales department; which I was willing to endure… although Sales are not my preferred area of expertise or practice.
My lack of patience and lack of stimulation in the job ambience are the main reasons why I’ve never pursued a career in that area.
nevertheless, I took the job and committed to a long distance commute to have that Marketing position at the end… however, I learned later, that this positions was going to be opened in Miami… as in the State of Florida… as in hundred miles away from my home and my husband… as in: NO WAY I’M MOVING THERE!!
So, needless to say, that’s the reason I’m currently back to my initial situation of being unemployed and looking for a job… yet again.
But my energies are up, my mood has improved over the last few days with my visit to Argentina and I’m ready to whup some Manhattan butt!!
I’m going to embrace my awesomeness and get back in the searching business with new knowledge about myself: I’m never going to accept a selling position ever again… and commute time must be less than an hour… I mean, P-L-E-A-S-E, is this so much to ask?

9 days and an epiphany later…

I started working, and although the commute time was a torment, moving around a schedule was comforting nevertheless.
My husband didn´t get to spend much time with me, but at least I was working with a goal in mind: to prove myself and (hopefully) ascend into the marketing position that I´ve been waiting for so long.
However (and there´s always a however in my life lately), things didn´t went as planned… I love my life, it´s all worked out so I never get bored of it!
My sister was getting married so I had to book a three days trip to Argentina, an eleven hour flight to get to the bottom of the hemisphere.
I started to get the “please… it´s only one favor” requests (as I like to call them)… all the last minute requisites of my dear family members and friends who don´t understand the significance of carry-on and short trips.
The four “twilight series” books, because apparently, in Buenos Aires you don´t have bookstores… a pair of shoes because after eight months of searching, five days before my arrival my friend realized that Nine West was the answer to all her prayers, an iPod speaker because my cousin´s girlfriend´s birthday was coming up (it seems that 30% cheaper it´s an incentive to ask for technological products made in the US), a mattress cover for my dear sister that can´t make a stop in a Sealy store and decided to shop online and make her twin sis bring it all the way from the Big Apple, underwear for my other cousin that only likes North America made boxers… jeez, don´t you people have any restraint??
I had to carry a luggage the size of a car seat, huge enough to support all this paraphernalia and work my poker face in the Customs area of the Buenos Aires Airport to avert their attention elsewhere, because I was sure to pay taxes if they swipe my bag through X-Rays.
Finally, "my job époque" ended after only nine days when I had the epiphany that Marketing was my dream job and if I decided to diversify elsewhere, I wouldn´t be able to keep looking for what I really wanted; because three hours commute time and eight hours shifts can´t possibly help you to make time for job applications.
I have a few more working days until they find a replacement, I´m back to being UNEMPLOYED (in capital letters… luckily I never changed my blog´s name), the trip to Argentina was embarrassing, everybody kept congratulating me for my job and I had to explain that I quitted… nine days and an epiphany later…
I mean, how bizarre is that?

Married, currently employed (FINALLY)… who would have though that abiding by a schedule again was going to be so difficult

Avid readers of my blog… well, not so “avid” because my writing has been slow, I know; but there’s a specific reason for that.
Since last Tuesday I’ve started working, due to privacy issues I’m not able to specify my duties or my work place, you would have to just be happy for my achievement and allow me my secrecy… or you can just assume that I’m a big time player in a major company, fine by me!
Well, it’s not a HUGE achievement, only a small one, but let us hope for the future.
My schedule is suddenly full, I have to even organize my time to wash my hair, or go to the drycleaners, because… you see, never mind that I live in one of the posh islands of the US, or that in this particular island, every major company has offices here, with a bunch of people working in them.
I've managed to get a job, one hour and thirty minutes commute time from our home.
Isn’t that wonderful? (There’s sarcasm here, trust me!)
So I’ve to get out of my house, fifteen minutes before the train is suppose to depart, have a 40 minutes ride, then take a twenty minute bus ride and finally, arrive to my work place.
You don’t see it from where you’re standing, but today, New York City has awaken with torrential rains and strong winds… and I have awoken with a gloomy temper and cero strength to get my butt out there, to the soaked streets, the soaked air, the humidity, the cold (yes, we’re still managing the low temperatures, even thou spring it’s suppose to be around the corner) and, most importantly, the one hour and thirty minutes ride to work.
Please send me strength from wherever you are!

Note: don’t get me wrong, I’m psyched to earn a salary and have something to do… just not in this particular day.

Note 2: No, I’m not going to change the blog’s name… I kind of like it! Don’t you?

How to master the finest art of concentration, no matter the circumstances

Last week I had the amazing opportunity to visit one of the MoMA’s temporary exhibitions.
I’m not a museum fan; after a while I get kind of bored and just pass the art like parked cars on the street… indifferent and fast.
But this particular exhibition was of Tim Burton. For you who know who he is, you can imagine the exhilarating experience that was to stand face to face with a human size statue of Edward Scissorhands; or to actually see his sketches for every character that he had created; or get totally in love with his style and colorful imagination.
That, for me, is interesting art… the worth seeing kind of art.
Don’t get me wrong, I appreciate art history, Monet, Picasso, Goya… but modern art is more in line whit what I like when I visit a Museum or Gallery.
Now, the downsides:
You, frequent readers of my blog, know me well enough to expect a criticism in this experience… and you’re not mistaken!
PEOPLE.
That’s my main inconvenience when I go to a museum, or gallery, or the subway, or pretty much every public place in this over populated island…
They’re “public” places, but I preferred them deserted.
And if I’m always to endure overpopulated places, I preferred them to be quiet and tranquil; is this too much to ask to the never ending tourist masses and Manhattan residents that share with me the common areas of this city?
I’m now becoming an expert in “Public Places Concentration Process” (as I refer to), where I shush every sound around me, forget about the mingling people and focus only in the task at hand… in this case, to enjoy a fantabulous exposition without the annoying interruptions of my fellow museum visitors.
Luckily, after the “MoMA + Concentration – People – Sound = Tim Burton Rocks!” experience, I got together with my friends and grabbed a bite in a small Mediterranean restaurant near the museum.
During “Restaurant Week” we had enjoyed (me and my girlfriends) almost every type of food, in excellent restaurants for the cheapest prices.
I love NYC!

http://www.moma.org/interactives/exhibitions/2009/timburton/

http://www.figandolive.com/

http://gonyc.about.com/cs/restaurants/a/restaurantweek.htm

You can sell everything on Ebay… maybe not your unbearable relatives, but the rest, I’m sure it’s manageable!

Since I moved to the US, I’ve become an expert in selling stuff online…
You name it: books, luggage, lamps, used shoes (can you believe that there’s people that buy them? YUCK!)… Everything can be sold in the magnificent online market that’s Ebay.
As you gain good reviews, your score goes higher and you get to sell cheaper, longer and securely… I have a 100% feedback (the best there is); this gives me the advantage to be perceived as trustworthy from my buyers.
My most bizarre experience was when I sold a pair of Tod’s yellow shoes, too small for my husband, which had been used at least two times.
I still can’t picture the guy who received the item using them; I mean, does he wears them with two pairs of socks? Disinfectant?
It’s not that my husband has smelly feet, I can vouch for that… but the buyer didn’t know my husband, or his hygiene freakiness, or my cleaning compulsions… so, we could have been the most disgusting people in the planet selling used shoes, and he still would’ve bought them.
Not cheap either… I think he paid more than $150 for the pair; he won the bidding with eleven other buyers… eleven other people that were ready to wear my husband’s used Tod’s yellow shoes; not a soft, light yellow either… a vivid yellow, so strong that you could become blind just by staring at them.
I really mean it when I say EVERYTHING!.
Last week a sold my Aunt M.’s used luggage. It was in really good condition and we received $215 for the transaction, only 30% cheaper than the new item in the stores.
I think we ripped the guy off.
Are you convinced now?
Ebay is the best market there is for selling all your junk, there are people buying a bunch of weird stuff, old, new, used, damaged, second hand, incomplete sets… it’s been documented the sale of a small town in the United States also; the guy was stupid enough to believe that he could buy a whole town, with the people living in it, and their houses, on Ebay, without propriety documents.
Me in particular, I don’t plan to buy nothing used in the near future… I’m just planning to sell…
I love this country!!.

www.ebay.com