Mutual Mind Blowing

Today I blew my lab-mates' minds with chicken fried steak and biscuits with gravy, then again with my sweet desktop made with Geektools.

Then our HR department blew my mind with the following email:

Buenas Días,

Nos ponemos en contacto contigo porque ya tenemos preparada tu carta de fin de contrato de fecha 31/12/2011. Siguiendo el procedimiento habitual la última nómina la cobrarás mediante cheque a final de mes y el certificado de desempleo lo enviaremos directamente on-line a la oficina del SOC, siembre que nos lo solicites. Te agradeceríamos pasaras en la mayor brevedad posible por el departamento de Recursos Humanos para firmar. Quedamos a la espera de tus noticias.

Saludos coridales.


Que fucking fuerte. Lets break this down step by step. The email is basically saying I got fired and need to sign my terminated contract. Gasp, luckily this email was some sort of insane mistake.

This whole journey has been absolutely crazy. I was told I didn't have to get a new VISA as long as my old NIE could be changed, but thanks to a freak of nature hurricane that hit NYC the day I was scheduled to leave for Spain, two days before my NIE would expire, I got stuck in NYC. My NIE expired, and I had to get a work VISA. Then I arrive with very, very little money ($700, about 540 euro), but I expect to sign my contract and get paid every two weeks so it doesn't seem like a big deal. Of course I was wrong, and in order to get everything together that I needed to sign my contract I had to go to five different branches of the same office hoping one would be able to do what I was asking for, only to be turned down by each office all for different reasons. After that bureaucracy nightmare repeats itself a few times, I finally have everything in order 2-3 weeks later and can sign my contract. THEN I find out they pay only once a month, on the 28th. So I signed the contract after pay day in November, and would have to wait until late December, after the holidays, to get paid. THEN I get this email saying I have to go to the office to sign the termination notice of my contract, a contract that I just signed 2 weeks ago?! You obviously sent this email to the wrong person, or were confused about what email you were supposed to send to me, but either way have royally fucked up! The icing on the cake: the email is signed Saludos cordiales, that pretty much means best regards. No words.

Salut mi Amigo... A Bitch Slap from Barcelona

Despite the fact that I have been in Barcelona four days shy of one month, my life is still very hectic.  Between work, trying to get settled into a new apartment, getting my spanish residence, generally exploring the city, and conducting a scientific investigation of all possible alcoholic beverages to validate my hypothesis that Moritz and some delectable homemade vermuts are indeed my bevs of choice, I don't have too much downtime.  On top of that, every once in a while something will happen, and Barcelona bitch slaps you in the face.  My cheek is currently rather red and tingly from an event last night.  It has a rather long build up:

While apartment hunting, Sam and I visited a very charming piso in Raval, the neighborhood in which we currently reside.  Of course to actually see the prospective piso we had to politely nudge one of several provocatively dressed prostitutes from the entrance of the building, and then climb 5 flights of rickety stairs that seemed at best structurally unsound, at worst the source of +/- 150 deaths that would occur if one step gave out (as this would cause each successive stair to fall in a domino/Indiana Jones effect, then the building, lacking its central support, would implode, all residents buried beneath the rubble).  Needless to say, after viewing that potential abode/death trap, Sam and I were in great need of refreshment--Alcoholic refreshment.  Wandering around for a while we stumbled upon a bar I fell in love with immediately.  Namely because there was an adorably rotund man outside texting while getting yelled at by a crazy grandma from an adjacent building for no apparent reason.  Was he phased?  Of course not, that shit probably happens everyday.  When one visits this gem of a watering hole, the clientele never leaves one wanting.  That is to say, everyone in there is an insane alcoholic on the verge of of a massive break with reality.  It's fantastic!  The bartender takes it all in stride and everyone leaves in a happy stupor.  Except me that is, I mostly leave wondering how he stays in business.  These people are drinking their weight in hard alcohol and I'm not exactly sure how they are paying.  There is definitely money being handed across the bar, but how much and how often... eh, no one seems to be counting.  And hey, if el dueño wants to give me some extra snack servings, or a beer on the house, I'm certainly not going to argue.  Especially since the guy looks like Tony Soprano... wait a second... This guy actually might be um.... an incredibly good businessman?  Salut mi amigo, I seem to have chosen well.

Turkey Tales v2.0

Well my sweets, it's that time of year again... or it was, I suppose now we have begun the abrupt ascent to the excitement of Holiday Season (but who are we kidding, it's all about Christmas, despite whatever PC ways we try to refer to retail/Jesus/decor/carol craze that begins promptly at 12:01am the last Friday of November).

You might remember my post about Thanksgiving last year... I am delighted to report this year went much more smoothly, largely due to an excellent helper prominently featured below:

Foreground: Helper, Background: Spanish snacks.

This year the turkey actually fit quite nicely into the oven and came mostly without feathers!  We cooked up quite a feast for a bunch of my friends from work, as well as some musicians we met at Bar Pastis.  

The spread and some Blues obsessed Spaniards. We met when I heard them playing Blue Bayou from Pastis. 

We have been eating more white rice and lentils than I ever though possible lately (work contract complications), so this Thanksgiving, I was pretty thankful for all the delicious food.  All in all, it was a pretty rowdy evening.  I think it's safe to say I'll bring some of those more Spanish traditions to my future Thanksgivings, wherever they might be.

I'm BACK BABY, here's some love from Barcelona!

After a series of exciting adventures state-side, I'm back in Spain.  This year, living in Barcelona.  And Dear Readers, let me tell you, Barça has far from disappointed!  Before I get into the details of the city, I would like to address the elephant in the room:  I'm a traitor!  All my madrileño buddies are horrified that I would forsake Madrid for such a dirty port city... but let's face it, I'm a dirty port city kinda gal.  The sun, sailing, palm trees, gritty streets, activism, modernisme... I like it here, hell, I LOVE it here!

In the past week I've dragged two huge suitcases, a backpack and a carryon up 5 flights of stairs narrower than my suitcase, then dragged them back down, moved twice, trudged through the rain all day, and started working.  In between all that there was a lot of wandering around the city.

After an exhausting search Sam and I found a sick pad in El Raval.  I love this barrio, the streets are windy and the buildings lean toward one another from across the cobblestone streets.  Just downstairs there's an old man bartender friend named Ángel who runs Bar Pastis.  He also happens to be an encyclopedia of all things jazz and serves up an excellent Pastis (what else)?

  

I'm tucked amid _RTS S_NT_ MÒNIC_, MACBA, a street packed with prostitutes, some hipsters and their hip cafes to the north, and some seedy characters to the south.  Oh yea, and coincidentally right around the corner is El Congrejo, a great gay bar with an even better drag show.  Hopefully that will be as interesting as living around the corner from the leather daddies at The Paw.  

More news and pictures to come, gotta get my feet a little wetter and my hands a little dirtier.  

Sup Science, miss you boo. Seems despite my best efforts you cannot be replaced.

America, you are slowly but surely sucking the life out of me.  I'm talking right now, not 60 years down the road when I'm finally old enough to retire and displace the occupant of my kid's above garage apartment.  Why so disheartened?  You guessed it, I just watched the Republican debate.  Since I'm currently waiting to retreat into a cold room filled with microscopes or an abnormally warm room filled with cell cultures I've filled the void by becoming weirdly addicted to drama.  My chief resources are of course news media and the spanish consulate.  So what did I learn tonight?

1.  Michelle Bachman has a sweet french mani.  Great accessory to the "barbie jet," did your insurance cover that? Because I heard I should expect that coverage now that birth control is covered
2. Ron Paul has the same haircut as my grandmother
3. We shouldn't talk about the past, unless of course we are mounting an attack on an opponents record, what america needs is a focus on the future... but whatevs I'm a young reckless youth, I only care about the present.  So I'll take a watch with so many rocks up in it I can't tell what the time is.
4. Huntsman, you're killing me with that yellow tie and relatively reasonable talk.
5. Someone has a plan for a technologically sophisticated fence.  It will be big, probably manufactured cheaply outside the US and purchased by the government for a premium.  Especially when you consider we will probably want the satellite laser gun, maybe some toxic super soakers, noise cannons that will cause debilitating pain when sounded, some barbed wire, some shrunken heads from failed crossing attempts oh yea and a dragon.  Definitely need the dragon.
6. 9-9-9, get with it people its not just an emergency number in other countries.  9-9-9 is coming to the US and its leveling the playing field.
7. Every true Republican hates Obama.  Right guys? We did decide we all hate him, right? I mean, respect bro, but I'm supposed to hate you regardless.
8. Also question, I think I'm confused... You can agree to speak for a certain period of time without actually having to answer the questions you are asked?  Fuck.  Knowing that would have made my college education SO much easier.
9.  If you ever want to be taken seriously you should probably have like a dozen kids.  If you believe in voting you should consider having more than that and brainwashing them accordingly... everyone else is.
10.  You might think the point of a debate would be to point out differences between candidates, but you would be wrong.  You see what is actually happening is that the media is constructing a ruthless to the death cage fight between candidates in an attempt to distract voters from the main goal, which is of course that everyone in the cage is better than Obama and that is all that matters.

Okay enough is enough.  Ramble shesh over, I'll continue my search for a real monkey wrench, as microscopic as it may be.

If you eat this you are a douche

I had a friend in Spain preparing her first trip to NYC.  I told her a few places to check out in the city, sights to see, and of course some awesome american foods to eat.  I also asked her if she knew what a hipster was.  For some reason, the hipsters infiltration of Madrid has been relatively slow, especially among what may be called the research oriented, I'm chained to my lab desk crew.  So an in depth review of all things hipster ensued, culminating in the disguise of a fire extinguisher jazzed up with huge glasses cut from a box and a flannel shirt made out of paper towels.  Totally hawt btw.  Needless to say, she returned from her NYC escapades on a fixie, wearing a flannel button down, acid wash skinny jeans and some glasses that she didn't need.  Clearly fully satisfied on all fronts.

Then I came back to NYC:

Hey d00d my age in the casual sport coat, penny loafers, and the slick backed side parted hair.  I see that sweet tat poking out of that modest v-neck, that "light" reading casually poking out of your messenger bag/sachel/tote or whatever the fuck you call large man purses these days, with your collection of music that is infuriating to hear you talk about.  I get it, you look cool leaning up against buildings, riding your bike wherever you are going, looking shit up on your iphone.  I'm not even actually insulting you—for real I'm not really insulting you, dont be so sensitive—but for clarity's sake let it be known that in the following sentences I will be insulting you.  Yes, you, person who approximates who I described above, I see you eating vegan caviar... and that makes you, person who approximates what I described above, a douche bag.  "But it's vegan!"  Who gives a shit!?  You are proudly consuming POS industrially over processed, overpriced kelp balls!  I know it is so hard being vegan, you have to give up so much... I mean shit, at that casual hang out about to take place on your perfectly lit rooftop, where an unfathomable amount of cigarette butts are carelessly flicked onto the street/backyard below, where troops of High Life, PBR, Milwaukee's Best etc will be wounded and left to waste in the spoils of what promises to be a night of the most genuine BS anyone can muster, what the FUCK will you serve for hors d'oeuvres?!?!?  That's a real fucking crisis man.  

Fashin meets SETI

 He whispers, "Quiet Cassandra!" and listens... 

"Oh my GAWD! I'm totally picking up signals from Uranus right now" 

"Sorry... beany beef burrito day love"

"Let us call them to Earth, for we must know... What is the new black?"