Scout’s Honor is poking at me and telling me to blog. This is after she viciously rick rolled me yesterday without remorse. Hrrmmppphh. I’m still recovering. And still waiting for the recipe she bait and switched.

So you missed it last week when the doctor told me that I needed to wear something “girdle-like” to help the hernia. My “friends” didn’t miss that though. Oh NO. You have no idea the amount of sh!t I have taken since last week from my so-called friends. I see them and they grin, look at my waist and say “So…… you wearing a girdle under that?” I know! Right?….wait…. you feelin’ my pain or just laughing at me and wanting to join in? One of my “friends” is shopping around for a bedazzled girdle to send me, the bitch. Suffice it to say, I wore a rib guard ONCE and was so disgusted, I tore it off and tried to throw it at someone. Of course, it got stuck in the waistband of my pants and painfully snapped back.

So besides the girdle trauma, I got sick. It’s currently sitting in my chest and doesn’t want to leave. And coughing is bad for the hernia. Actually most things are bad for the hernia. Like pants. I’m sitting here like a fattie after Thanksgiving dinner with my jeans unzipped because they were putting pressure on the hernia. Oh yes. This is what my life has been reduced to.

We have a Karate tournament coming up.  I’m going to have to sit this one out. Since my intestines are protruding from the abdominal wall, I’m fairly certain it’s not safe to be kicked or punched in the stomach. Judging by the look on the doctor’s face when I said I still wanted to spar until I had surgery, I’m guessing it’s not a good thing. Just a thin layer of skin between you and my guts. Comforting thought, isn’t it?

Anyway, at some point in the next few weeks I’m going to have to have surgery. Then there will be no more girdle jokes. Or I will use it as a slingshot and hurt you. ;P

Hey! I was just talking about you yesterday afternoon! I was talking about how I hadn’t been blogging. I realized yesterday that I might be becoming illiterate because I haven’t been blogging. Seriously. I’ve made some horrific grammatical mistakes lately. Plus my friend, Sue, is probably feeling deprived because she derives great pleasure from watching me do the things I do. Like mouth off, get in fights and/or fall. ;D

I can’t quite seem to catch a break health-wise. On Tuesday, an abdominal ultrasound showed I have a hernia. Oh yes, a hernia! So I haven’t seen a doctor about it yet, but I’m fairly certain I probably shouldn’t  be doing any heavy lifting. Probably not any crunches either, but NAH NAH NAH NAH I can’t hear you!

A couple of weeks ago I tried my triumphant return to martial arts. I tried Karate on a Thursday. About 4 hours later, my knees felt like I hadn’t taken 9 months off. So I stewed about that until Monday and tried Hapkido. I thought that it would take longer to get back to Hapkido because of my wrist surgery and my wrist isn’t 100%. To my shock, I was able to do Hapkido. And if I can stay healthy, I will get my brown belt in January. So I chose to keep on doing Hapkido and worry about how I’m going to do Karate after I get my brown belt. I may even wait until I have my black belt to go back to Karate.

Anyway, all this brings me to last night. I came back from Hapkido, dressed like a ninja. Steve’s out of town AGAIN. The garbage can needed to be brought down to the street. On Sunday, we had been de-cluttering the laundry room. The garbage can was REALLY HEAVY. It sits on a slight incline. So there I am, dressed in my super secret ninja suit, and when I tilted the can up on it’s wheels, it was so heavy, it started to slide, then slammed back down on the ground, which nearly launched me over the top. I may or may not have screamed. The garbage can clearly weighed, not only more than me, but enough to launch me across the driveway. I also felt a little yank on my hernia.

What’s a herniated ninja to do? I sheepishly walked across the street to the neighbor’s house. He opened the door and I had to admit “I don’t normally dress like this to take out the garbage, but….the can is too heavy and I can’t get it down to the street.” He said “We all need to dress like ninjas to take out the garbage!” Oh yes. He said that. Just so you know, the can nearly launched HIM too. I’m fairly certain the garbage can, like an angry horse trying to buck you off, was bitter for being stuffed so full and someone needed to pay. Seriously. The can was psycho.

Crime scene photo. Evidence of homicidal garbage can:

So much time has passed that every time I’ve sat down to write, I felt like I needed to catch you up on everything and the thought of doing that was overwhelming. So I’d get up and walk away and tell myself I’d do it later, and somehow six whole months slipped by. Geez. How’d that happen?! I signed up for Twitter today thinking “mini” blogging would be easier. However? If Twitter was a person? I’d have already kicked his sweet little behind. Seriously, folks. What the hell?! The site goes down every 30 seconds. The UI is NOT intuitive and so I’m a little discouraged. But you can try to follow me (imhelendt) and maybe I’ll figure out how to use it. I keep telling myself if some of those Hollywood bubbleheaded ninnys can figure Twitter out, I can too. ;D

I miss blogging in long form though. Facebook and Twitter are geared for snapshots of the here and now, but I do miss forming complete thoughts and sentences. I’m hoping I might have a little more time in the coming months. Steve’s starting graduate school so I’m going to be a grad school widow for the next two years. I’m sure I’ll be able to get some blogging in then!

The latest on my wrist is that I’m not sure the surgery worked. I’m six months post-op and not any better off than I was before the surgery. It was supposed to heal in four months. I can’t spar which makes for a very angry Helen. If I could just HIT someone, I’m sure that would make it all better. ;D

Anyway, gotta run! Son #1 gets out of school so early, it’s pretty much 5 minutes after he left. lol.

Steve: Uh, I think I just ate a bug.
Son #1: (nonchalantly, as if this happens every day) What did it taste like?
Steve: Kinda insect-y.

I am no longer hip. No wait, I’m even less than hip, I’ve totally screwed the pooch on my hipness. I even messed up Boom Boom Pow. When I asked the kids who was jackin’ my chickens they started laughing and couldn’t stop. Literally, they laughed for half an hour and “jackin’ my chickens” has become the new buzz phrase in our house. When son #1 finally regained his composure he howled “Mooooommmmmm!!!!!!!!! It’s ‘Those chickens are jackin’ my style!!!!!!’ ” Seriously? How is that different? In fact, jacked chickens make a hell of a lot more sense to me.

Anyway, I’ve got so much to catch you up on, but so little time! Is that cuz someone’s jackin’ my time? Is this how jackin’ works? My thoughts are a little fuzzy anyway. I need more coffee. I was trying to dial the phone and make espresso at the same time. Somehow I ended up talking to the coffee cup on my ear and managed to snatch the phone back out of the espresso maker right before sweet brown elixir rained down from the heavens.

I have 14 minutes before I’m taking the kids to Dawn of the Dinosaurs. 14 minutes to try to consume enough caffeine so as not to fall asleep standing up. Someone jacked my sleep too. We saw the American Idol Tour last night. I guess Adam Lambert and the gang jacked my sleep. I’ll fill you in on that later. Somehow my 14 minutes has evaporated. I had to get more coffee, the coffee I had earlier keeps making me have to pee, and those kids of mine aren’t listening. Someone has seriously jacked my chickens. Or my style. Either way, I’ll be back later. Peace out. (SEE?! I’m HIP!)

Did you ever want to play with your dog but he or she was too dirty? Well I didn’t.

I have a dog named Simba. First, I wanted to play with Simba but he was too dirty. He was covered in mud. YUK! Second, we got dog shampoo, dish soap and lemon juice. Don’t ask me why my mom got lemon juice.  {Mom said “breaks up labrador body grease, takes it out of your way” } My mom and dad put soap on Simba. He tried to break away but was not successful. Then my brother, me and my dad started scrubing. After a while the soap turned brownish because of the mud. Dad rinsed him off. Now he isn’t dirty and he smells better. Last, I played with him.

RIP Simba

October 27, 1994- May 14, 2009

Dear Spouse,

See that eye twitch? It’s your spawn. The day started with an MMA fight at 8:30 am, which resulted in both kids screaming and crying in pain. Do you have any idea how hard it is to break up a fight with one arm and not even be able to use the bad arm to club them over the head with?

Anyway, I spent 3 hours straight with them in the car shortly after that. It’s a miracle I didn’t throw myself out of the car at 70 mph, but really I couldn’t get the seatbelt undone with one hand.

I had to take them shopping which just compounded the problem because if they’re not beating each other up, they’re hugging and hanging off each other knocking stuff over. Do you have any idea what it’s like to deal with their multiple personalities?!

We finally arrived home and son #1 turned into an emo with an attitude problem and son #2 started this high-pitched squeeky whine.

About five minutes ago the dog started his incessant barking. I’m gonna need you to come home and go Ike Turner on his ass.

God I love Spring Break.

Your Loving Wife,

Twitchy

(Secretary Steve is typing this as I dictate)

Surgery went well. The orthopedist told me that he would end up doing one of two possible repairs: one with a short 4-6 week recovery time and one with a 4 month recovery time. Unfortunately, the tear in my wrist was such that I required the Super Size version, so I’m out of commission for a while. Apparently, the first thing I asked the medical staff upon opening my eyes was, “how long before I can hit people again?”

The day got off to a rocky start because the first medical procedure to which I was subjected was a pregnancy test (I’m sure you’ll all be heartbroken to hear that there isn’t another little one on the way). There was also the fact that they wouldn’t let me wear deodorant for fear it may catch fire (WTH were they planning to do around my armpits, anyway??). AND THEN, even though I had advertised my latex allergy to everyone’s annoyance, they put little latex stickers on me for the ECG leads. After I started breaking out in hives, they had to give me benedryl, so I was angry, smelly, itchy, and woozy before we even got to the whole “wrist” part of the day.

On the plus side, they were able to do the surgery with a regional anesthetic and a sedative, so they didn’t have to put me under a general — which is good because I tend to wake up from general anesthetic swinging at people and swearing. Post-op, I have to say that the wrist is pretty painful… probably the most painful of the 5 orthopedic surgeries I have had. The arm is now casted up past my elbow and my hand is painted oompa loompa orange.

(Now Steve is editorializing)

Helen had to go lay down on the couch because she started to feel a little sick and dizzy sitting up by the computer. The nurse did warn her that the meds would tend to cause a drop in blood pressure, and I must say she looks pretty pale. We’re also still beating down the latex hives with the occasional benedryl. After a couple of days of rest, I expect Helen will be back up and at ‘em, if only with one arm for a while. She must be feeling better now because she’s still all over me from the couch making sure I don’t type anything she disapproves of.

Thanks again for your prayers and well wishes!

Even with Scout’s sneaky attempt to get me blogging again, I’m afraid this will be my last blog entry for awhile. On Wednesday I’m having surgery on my left wrist. I’m being told I will be in a fingers to shoulder brace that locks out all motion for the next four months. Remember the wrist injury from last April? I spent most of last year with the doctor telling me it was bruised. I finally saw a hand specialist in December. Turns out it’s actually not a bruise (well duhhhh.) So anyway, it needs some surgery to repair some torn cartilage. I was trying to get out of the surgery and begging for some non-surgical options, which did not work. By the time I realized that wasn’t going to work, we had come within weeks of my favorite karate tournament. I fought in a tournament in the fall with this injury successfully (Two seconds and a first place) and thought I could pull that off again. Alas, no. The tournament was this past weekend and I entered a tough division and was so limited in what I could do, I lost in the first elimination round. Sigh. It’s been really tough to realize that I now have to sit out months of karate and hapkido on that note. Devastating, really. And I’m terrified because they are operating on my HAND. You *need* your hands! *I* need them to hit people!

I’m not sure there’s ever a convenient time to lose the use of one of your hands, but my 40th birthday is in a couple of weeks. I told Steve in December that I wanted to do a big party for my 40th, but with the uncertainty surrounding my surgery and what my limitations would be, it made it impossible to try to plan something. I’m not sure what I was thinking anyway, we all know about the birthday curse. So we’ll just all pretend that it’s not happening and I’ll stay 39  29 for another year.

And just so you know? I got fuddruckered again. This time at a mexican food restuarant at the tournament. We went out to dinner with some people from the dojo. They found out about my meat poisoning problem and were cracking jokes. When my vegetable fajitas came, Sensei cracked that washing casting iron ruins it and wondered out loud if they had washed my cast iron before putting my vegetables on. The following day I sent him a text message that said “In case you were wondering, they DON’T wash the cast iron at that restaurant.” Apparently they were driving home and almost ran off the road because they were laughing so hard. I spent most of yesterday doubled over and moaning “I haaaattttteeeee meat!!!!!!!” Sigh. 

On a brighter note, Steve and son #2 kicked butt at the tournament. Steve placed 2nd and 3rd, and son #2 won first place in both kata (forms) and sparring! Son #1 is currently in a hip to ankle leg brace and unable to do much of anything. Oh, yes, it’s been tough around the Teixeira household lately!

So anyway, I’m afraid I’m not going out on much of a high note here either for the next few months, but as with all things, it is what it is. And I must remember what a wise man once said:

“The ultimate aim of karate-do lies not in victory or defeat, but in the perfection of the character of its participants.”
- Gichin Funakoshi

I’m shy. I’m sure it’s why people think I’m so sweet until they get to know me. Anyone who knows me would never describe me as sweet.  A friend of ours, Bill, told me years ago that he initially thought I was sweet and innocent. Until he sat down next to me before one of our softball games and first experienced the true me- a lot of attitude with the mouth to match. It was shortly after I’d had shoulder surgery so I’m going to say I was probably high on narcotics without any filters. Oh wait. That’s right. I don’t have filters. I say what’s on my mind. And on that particular day, I was having to sit on the bench until my shoulder healed and we were watching the sales team (whom I hated) play another team in the game before ours. I may or may not have said we were going to kick this team’s ass in the play offs. I may or may not have had a competitive fire lit in the pit of my belly and done a fair amount of trash talking.

This is why Steve can never run for public office. My mouth would lose the election for him before he even got started. I’d make Theresa Hines Kerry look tame. A whole team of handlers would have to throw a bag over my head and gag me before I went out in public. And then I’d just get fiestier. Like the angry, wet cat from hell. I’d be spitting and biting with my claws out and it just wouldn’t go well for all involved.

So anyway, our family was talking about fame in the car. To son #1’s surprise, I said I had no desire to ever be famous. I don’t ever wish to be in the public limelight. My shyness turns to all out fear when the spotlight is turned on me. I don’t like cameras, and being the center of attention freaks me out. Steve pointed out that this blog had earned me a small amount of fame. But I asserted that I never started it with the intention of becoming “famous.” I write because it relieves stress. I crack jokes about stuff that usually wasn’t even close to funny when it was happening but perspective later made it amusing. I’m guess I’m ok with blog fame right up until someone walks up to me and says “I read your blog” and then I want to start screaming and not stop. So son #1 said “Well what if you wrote a book then had to go on TV or something?” I glanced uneasily at Steve and said “Well then Daddy would have to come on TV with me because there’s no way I’d do that by myself and I’d have to take Paxil or whatever it is they give people for stage fright.” Steve rolled his eyes and said “Why not? That’d be awesome! But what am I going to do? Introduce myself ‘Hi, I’m Steve, I’m her husband and handler and I’m media trained?’ ” Well duuuhhhh. Microsoft trained him to handle the media. I’d just start punching people. This attitude and mouth takes some work, you know! It’s a good thing Steve’s media trained….

Psssssttt! Come here! Where did all these people come from? I can’t tell from the blog stats. And they’re all LOOKING at me. It’s like……they’re WATCHING me. It’s creeping me out. I’ve gotten a whole day’s worth of traffic in 3 hours. Is there like, a toilet seat cover hanging out the back of my pants? Can you see through my shirt? WHY ARE THEY HERE? I hope this isn’t over cat testicles again! I’m just going to slllliiiiiidddddeeee over here…..DID YOU SEE THAT? THEY’RE FOLLOWING ME!

I’m just going to go over and sit in the dark closet for awhile and see if they’re still here when I come out in the morning.

One of my many super powers is the ability to detect in minute detail when someone is acting suspicious. Especially in a retail environment. I don’t know if it was my many years working for Neiman Marcus and Nordstrom or whether I had this ability beforehand. I neither have to be looking around nor paying attention. I just suddenly know if someone is acting suspicious.

So on Sunday we were at Fred Meyer. And I was shopping for socks for son #2, son #2 was sitting on the floor reading a book and son #1 and Steve were shopping for socks for son #1. I was trying to figure out how much the socks were when my spidey senses started tingling. I looked up and realized that I had somehow been keeping track of people that walked by and one fellow had just made his second pass. I looked up and immediately knew he was NOT shopping. So I inched closer to son #2 and started paying attention to this fellow. Within minutes I realized he was watching either me or son #2. So I moved within inches of son #2. I also made eye contact with this guy because often that will deter an attacker. He moved on but I knew he was coming back. Less than five minutes later I caught him peeking from behind a display and looking at me and son #2. I calmly knelt down in front on son #2 and said quietly “Look at me. If someone grabs you, start yelling stranger and bite. Kick, punch, fight like hell but make sure you keep yelling STRANGER. There’s a  guy here who isn’t acting right and might try to grab you.” He closed his book and stood up. I got Steve’s attention and told him what was happening. Neither of the boys had seen the guy but we went over one more time the stranger danger rules. 

I have to say that two years ago, before I started martial arts, I would have been absolutely terrified. The biggest benefit of martial arts is that I no longer live in fear of what someone might do to me.  I knew that Steve and I could easily take this guy down although I’m pretty sure he weighed more than both of us put together. We put the kids in between us and started moving towards the exit. As we’re in line to check out, he passes by us again and is hanging out about 10 feet away trying to appear like he’s shopping, but he’s not. While I’m trying to determine if he has a weapon, Steve asked the cashier if he works for their security department. And, alas, he does. I informed her that security was supposed to be invisible, not scaring the hell out of the customers.

I told you my super power was detecting when people are acting suspicious, not what their intentions are.

Click here and you decide.

Fine print: Not responsible for the horror….

Anyone? Anyone?

While perusing my search engine terms that brought traffic to my blog this week, I am again reminded of the seedy underbelly of the internet. Because cat testicles weren’t the only problem. There were also angry sloths, the ever-present devil sex, resistant “armpit bacteria”, hideous variations of horrible feet things like: foot job, foot fungus, black spots on toenail, warts on feet, feet warts frozen (oh God, I’m going to pass out!), more cat testicles, more sloths, poo variations such as white poo, white poo in children and the world’s ugliest poo, and angry soup. The rest of it was fairly normal. Interspersed with more cat and sloths.

I got a funny phone call from my Dad the other night and have been giggling about it ever since. Two of my siblings have had babies over the last couple of months. My sister had her baby on Valentine’s Day and my dad was complaining about the discharge from the hospital and the conversation went like this:

Dad: “It took us three hours to get out of there!”
Me: “Why three hours? That seems excessive.”
Dad: “Well first they have all this paper work, then they gotta check the carseat and then it took them another two hours to get the LoJack off.”
Me: “The WHAT?”
Dad: “The LoJack. I don’t know what it’s really called, but it’s like the thing they put on cars. You get too close to any hospital door with it on the baby and all kinds of alarms go off and then it locks every door in the hospital. Total hospital shutdown.”

(You should know that at this point I was wondering if he knew this from experience.)

So here I am thinking how hilarious it is that they’re saying the baby was LoJacked and couldn’t wait to blog it. I was going to link to LoJack site and be all smart ass about it. But the universe has a sense of humor too. Because when I went to the LoJack website? It turns out that they really do make people LoJacks. I have to admit that was certainly a little disappointing because I was totally going to roll with that. I did learn that they make a LoJack for Alzheimer’s and dementia patients though. I’m totally going to LoJack my Grandma now. I wonder if they offer some kind of OnStar service with that?

Dear President-Elect Barack Obama,

I have some great advice on how to make our country a better place to live.

First, I would make smoking illegal. I would do that because the population would be bigger and I mean bigger because less people would die.

Oh and I almost forgot, will you try to be elected again? You will be better next time after practice.

Last, you should stop pollution. Pollution is bad because lots of fish die and it destroys the earth.

Did you like my advice? I hope you use some of it!

Your friend,

Son #2

Seattle, WA (AP)- In a freak accident, a Seattle housewife almost died today after inhaling powdered sugar while eating a cookie. Gasping for breath, her son looked on and giggled and her spouse laughed hysterically after hearing of the incident. Neither lifted a finger and called 911. While the incident appears to an accident, the investigation is still pending. Several hours later, the wife appears to still be sniffling with mild chest pain. Relatives appear unconcerned. Further information will be reported as the investigation continues.

Update:  It appears one can choke TWICE in one day from inhaled powdered sugar. It also appears that sons and husbands laugh harder the second time around.

I mentioned last time that the new version of WordPress had thrown me and that’s why I wasn’t writing. I absolutely HATE having to completely relearn how to use software just because somebody thought it would be “cool” to have everything look completely different. Call me a dinosaur, I am NOT hip and young. If I spent the time to try to learn to use something, I don’t want to wake up the next morning and have to completely relearn it. Steve is mortified by this attitude. Probably because he’s a software guy and enjoys getting to know new software. Honey, I always did hate to RTFM.

But all that is not the whole reason why I haven’t been writing. If you’ve followed my blog for any length of time, you know my tendency to be irreverent and out spoken. And while you all get good laughs out it, I get harassed. I am so tired of being harassed. I’m tired of people threatening to sue me. I’m tired of now pausing before I type anything to wonder which family member is going to send me some irate email or letter over what I just said. I have family members who check every week or two, to make sure I haven’t written something that they don’t approve of. If they find anything, they report back to other family members. I have family members who haven’t spoken to me in over a year for stuff I wrote. Yet? They didn’t read my blog for the first two years when I was all reserved and worried about what I say. So much for the right to free speech, eh?

Anyway, I’ve been toying with the idea of moving to password protected entries. Steve would rather I just start writing a book. I’m not even motivated to write anymore, just disgusted with the whole situation. I guess the pen is mightier than the sword after all. Anyway, that’s why I’ve been silent. I’ve been trying to figure out what I want to do. When I do, you’ll be the first to know.

WordPress completely changed the UI. Can I say how pleased I am? I’ve been having connection issues for a month. Yep a whole month without a connection that would last for more than a few seconds. Yesterday Steve finally figured out the problem: son #1 had plugged in a new phone in his room and didn’t use a DSL filter. So yeah. I went a fricken’ month with computer issues from hell. Then, I get on here and can’t figure out how to use WordPress. Oh yes, happy camper am I!

And no, I still haven’t gotten the rest of the Spain pictures off of Steve’s laptop. Sigh.

So what I’ve really been wanting to talk to you all about is watches. For the last 3 years or so I haven’t been able to wear a watch. Previously, watches had a short battery life on me, but for the last 3 years it’s been ridiculously short, like, a day or two or a few weeks. I’ll get a new battery and then it’s dead again almost immediately. I kept buying new watches thinking that I just kept getting defective ones.

We were watching something on TV not too long ago and someone said that mediums and psychics can’t wear watches because the batteries go dead. Since we saw that show, I’ve been cracking jokes about my psychic abilities. Really, I thought it was just a bunch of broken watches! I had no idea I could see dead people. Then, when I was in Spain, our friend Chris said he can’t wear battery watches either. Weird huh?

I began to wonder if this may be a more common problem than I thought. Chris said to go buy a mechanical watch and that would solve the problem. So last weekend we went by a jewelry store and were looking at watches, and I mentioned my problem and the sales girl had heard of it! WTF?!?! At the second jewelry store the sales guy said “Oh, you’re one of those people.” THOSE PEOPLE?! WTF?! REALLY? I’m a people?! So I ask you dear internetz? Have you heard of such a thing? I could not bring myself to spend the money on a mechanical watch (WTF CHRIS?! THEY START AT 2k!) so I bought a Citizen Eco Drive watch. It’s one of those watches that gets charged by light. I’m skeptical that this is going to work and I keep checking the time like I’ve got OCD. I don’t want to be one of those people, whoever they are. Do you know any of those people? Help me out here! And if you’re a wacko, just keep moving along. I don’t see dead people.

UPDATE: New Citizen Eco Drive watch that I bought Sunday stopped at 10:22 last night WHILE I WAS WRITING THIS! Steve is totally creeped out…..

I’m back from Spain. As usual, I’m waiting for Steve to give me the photos off his laptop so I can finish blogging about Spain. No pressure, dear. The computers are broken (he’s trying to say it’s the ISP), half the lightbulbs in the house are burned out (Heather, I need your help here) and I’m pretty sure he gave the wrong dog the Prozac, but I’m good. Everything is fiiiinnnnnnneeeee. ;D

So, anyway, Steve says to me the other day “As you’ve gotten older, you’ve gotten funnier.” I said “I have ALWAYS been this funny.” He said “No, when I met you, you thought hitting someone over the head with a bat was funny.” I said “That’s still funny.” Because it is. And for the record, I have ALWAYS been this funny.

About that spouse of mine, his Sensei says she loves having Steve in class (and I quote) because “I just want you and all to know how much it means to me to have someone in my class who so regularly and thoroughly out-geeks me.” So I’m sure it will come as no surprise that he posted the following on Facebook.

Steve became a fan of J. R. R. Tolkien. 2:09pm

Writer

41,530 fans – Become a Fan

Add Comment - 3 Comments

 Helen D’Antoni Teixeira at 3:16pm November 24 said

Oh God. Do I know you?

Steve Teixeira at 4:50pm November 24  said

I don’t hear you unless you speak elvish.

 

Helen D’Antoni Teixeira at 5:26pm November 24  said

Nope. Never seen you before in my life.

Yeah. This is what I’m dealing with here, People. Turbo nerdidity. Because here he is, giving the keynote in Berlin, looking like Steve Jobs.

Giving nerdy interviews.

Oh yes, and performing like Brittany Spears.

I’m afraid I may have stepped in some Geek. At the very least, I got some Nerd on me. Somebody Helllllllllppppppppppp!!!!

After a harrowing flight between Seattle and Paris (can you say screaming twins next to me and a fat guy taking up half my seat too?) I arrived safely in Spain. I got in at noon but was so exhausted I had to sleep for a few hours when I got there. (Just so you know? Military time is hard to comprehend when you’ve been 30 hours without sleep.) You should also know that it takes a fricken’ rocket scientist to figure out where a light switch is in Europe and how to flush the damn toilet. Seriously. What do the two buttons MEAN? Also, Americans are not familiar with the knob. Pulling up on a knob to flush a toilet is counter intuitive. I did a lot in the dark until I found the light switch. By the time I slept twice and ate, I had very little time left in Barcelona. I only had time to visit the mall. And guess what atrocities greeted me at the mall? That’s right, glistening pig legs with the hooves still attached. The fat was dripping off of them. And THERE WERE PIG HOOVES just sticking out into the middle of the walkway in the mall.

That’s Steve and Daniel taking a nibble as we walked by. I went into Spanish Walmart and there was an entire wall of these disgusting pig legs. Right as the camera flashed I got yelled at in Spanish for taking a picture. What? Is flash photography going to spoil the flesh laying out in the open to attract flies, bacteria and dust? YUM.

We arrived in Madrid late last night. I’m really not having a lot of luck with transportation. We took the high speed train and this time there was a screaming baby, a barking dog (WTF?! someone brought one of those yappy things on) and cell phones constantly ringing at full volume.

Did I mention the smoking? It will be a miracle if I leave here without lung cancer. My clothes reek of smoke. Especially my coat. Which I now just refer to as my smoking jacket.

This morning, we were walking along and spotted a demonstration going on. Steve starts heading towards the demonstration and I said “Are you out of your mind? I’m not walking into the middle of a demonstration!” He said “I got tear gassed in Paris. I know what I’m doing.” Yeah. He really said that. I said “Is this because we missed sparring class today? You want us to fight our way out of the crowd?”

Right by the demonstration is a little coffee shop and bakery called La Mallorquina. To. Die. For. It’s been around since 1894. And holy cow, the pastries were outstanding.

We walked for miles and miles. I had to take a lot of public transit. Steve thinks he’s a comedian  and kept snapping picture of me getting on public transit. I even had to take a bus today. Of course, I had to douse us in Purell afterwards, but I was on a bus, people. I had to repeatedly take the metro too. Every time, I think of the movie Ghost and have to look for bottlecaps bouncing around on their own. There is a picture of me actually riding the bus, but I was making an obscene gesture and I’m not going to publish proof I was on a bus.  I do, however, have an advertisement for the makers of Purrell in a photo while waiting for the metro.

We had lunch at a fantastic vegetarian restaurant called Isla Tessoro. Usually when you eat at vegan or vegetarian restaurants the food is marginal at best, but the food was truly delicious. The Spanish take their food very seriously.

I am exhausted. I’m off to bed, where there hopefully will be no crying babies, barking dogs and ringing cell phones. I will dream of Purell and being indoors without smoking…

Catch ya’ll on the flip flop. ;D

Hi! I’m son #1 and I’m running for student council. There are a couple of reasons I would be a good student council member.

1. I’m very creative
2. I’m smart enough to find loop holes in every word teachers say
3. I can stay organized and speak in front of the class (you would be surprised to know how many people can’t!!!)

Also, vote for me because Michael N. has been on student council for 4 years going on 5. I will bring CHANGE not SAME as Michael has and will. Have you seen the school change much over the past few years?! The only change Michael has brought is a different brand of chocolate milk and more homework. When *I* become student council, I will give you LESS homework, MORE student rights and the CHOICE of chocolate milk. So for change and a great year, vote for son #1 as our student council representative. Thank you.

GO VOTE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Unless you’re a Democrat. In which case, you need to vote tomorrow. They are asking all Democrats to vote tomorrow and Republicans to vote today in order to avoid complete and utter chaos.

Etiquette:

These are some good etiquette rules that I follow: Don’t talk with your moth full, and put your napkin on your lab.

I hate it when people talk with full moths. Yes folks, he spelled etiquette right but not mouth and lap.