Shitting Bricks of Ballerness

Today is my bitch.

Seriously. Today and yesterday are both my bitches. Wanna know all the great shit I've done in two days? Well I'm gonna tell you:

First of alls, I went to class, like a good kid, turned in my ficha (ID card type thing that professors often ask for), then I went to the store, I got Gypsy a real litter box and some flea drops, I bought an umbrella so I won't have an excuse to skip class every time it rains (like I may have done on Monday), then I came home, made my bed (with my freshly cleaned, piss-free sheets), swapped Gypsy's litter box, and sat my ass down, got all my homework done (instead of going to the bars!), did some work and passed the fuck out. Then this morning, I woke my ass up, made an omelette with some muthafuggin veggies, popped my laundry in the washer, put flea drops on Gypsy, cleaned up her poop, walked to the oficina de extranjeros and picked up my student residence card thang (which looks snazzily official!), walked to Inma's office, picked up a letter that had arrived a billion years late (thanks for the bracelet, mom!), picked up this official looking piece of paper that is important to school stuff (or something), turned in my extension form, bought groceries on the way home, and then hung all my laundry up to dry.

Yeah. Are you exhausted just looking at that? Cause you should be. Oh, what's that I just nonchalantly slipped into a paragraph that probably no one is going to read? Oh yeah, "turned in my extension form." What's that mean? I'M HERE UNTIL JULY! It's official! Sorry California, I love and miss you, but these semester shenanigans just won't cut it. I love this city and I feel like I need to stay longer and pound my Spanish into submission-- YOU WILL COME OUT OF MY MOUTH AND NOT SOUND STUPID, DAMMIT. And besides that, the opportunity for travel here just can't be passed up. I'm thinking Morocco in December and maybe Portugal and Ireland in the Spring?

Luckily, Casey has sent in his passport application, so hopefully we will be able to sell our souls and get him a ticket over here as soon as that comes in. And if you say need a few "good deeds" points to boost your karma for the day, you could always click that little donate button on the right and send us a few dollaz in the name of love and travel and awesomeness. Just sayin. That shit ain't cheap.

Also, if you're reading this and you plan on seeing my bbygrrl Zella anytime soon, you should probably yell at her until she decides to buy a ticket and come see me, too! And family, if you're reading this, figure out when you're coming and GET YOUR DAMN TICKETS.

And speaking of the loves of my life, SatAmrit and Mailee are going to be here in FIVE FUCKING DAYS and I'm shitting fucking RAINBOWS OF GLEE.

WHY DOES MY LIFE RULE SO MUCH?

Okay. I'm done shouting. I promise. But really. Gimme money.

I don't have any relevant pictures, but here is me wearing a cat scarf, just to spice things up:

A Cry for Cleanliness

On Sunday, when I returned home from Sevilla, I was not remotely surprised that my house was a total dirty shit hole, but I WAS surprised that I managed to get Lucas to somewhat assist in the cleaning process. In other words, I washed all the dishes that had accumulated in the house, and then threw him the sponge and told him to wipe down the tables. And then I wiped down all the kitchen counters and scrubbed the microwave. But it was a start, especially since, as I washed ALL the barbeque sauce encrusted plates and dried milk glasses, I mentioned that it would be a lot easier if "we" cleaned as we went (oh wait, I already do...) and he agreed! Alas, I am irked and angered and frustrated and fuggin pissed to announce, this mini cleaning sesh and the conversation it provoked have had absolutely zero effect on my compañero, and I am still living in a shit hole.

How the balls am I supposed to cook in these circumstances? I can't. I don't know if you can see this, but the sink is OVERFLOWING, thereby preventing me from cleaning my OWN shit (let alone his) and even the stove top is occupied by this greasy meaty madness. I will claim the small pot and the tupperware on the back of the stove as mine: I simply cannot wash them in the sink, because the water sprays off all the other dishes, floods the counter, and gets on my clothes. And I know as soon as I start moving things around in order to clean, I'm going to end up washing all the dishes. Like I do every week.

The maddening thing is that this began the very day we cleaned. He made sausages and left the pan in the sink. The next day there were more plates. Then he had two friends over for burgers and pasta. I asked him to clean. He said he would. That night he washed the pans and a few plates and left a small pile of bowls and plates on the kitchen counter. How is that possible? If you're cleaning, don't you want to just get it all over with? Why exactly would you just do half the job? But I am a ray of fucking sunshine, so I thanked him and, get this, he told me he doesn't understand why HIS MOM AND I (yup, I'm on Mom level officially) always bug him to clean and then thank him afterwards. Uh, because we are considerate people, I guess? He does have a point, though, why the fuck should I thank him for washing HALF of his dishes when I frequently wash not only all of my dishes but whatever scummy bullshit is sitting around the house, with absolutely no appreciation from anyone?

Aaaand that's how you write an entire blog about dirty dishes. My bad.