Monthly Archives: January 2014

Next Time, I’ll Hit Him Sooner

I adore traveling. I just wish I could bring my bedroom with me. Yes, I am one of those obnoxious people who requires a meticulously controlled environment in order to sleep.

Humble Hubris: portable bedroom

However, the lure of lush, rolling Irish fields and fresh Parisian baguettes proved stronger than my lust for sleep, so my friend and I trotted off to Europe with our American-sized backpacks stuffed with travel essentials: Cliff bars and grandiose, overly-romantic expectations.

Humble Hubris: travel naive

First stop: the bonny hills of Ireland.

First misconception shattered: English is English, wherever you go.

Hoping to ease into the foreign language experience by commencing our European jaunt with an English-speaking country, I was flummoxed to discover that I didn’t understand a word from the Irish. I knew we were speaking the same language … it just didn’t sound like it. It literally sounded like Mandarin to me. Is there a Rosetta Stone Irish course for English speakers?

Humble Hurbis: irish accent

After an eternity of wandering through the cobblestone streets of Dublin, we arrived at our hostel. Note to travelers: booking hostel lodgings is similar to online dating. No matter how nice the fellow is, you don’t know what his family is like until it’s too late. Our hostel was tolerable enough, as far as hostels go. It was our roommate that would prove to be troublesome.

Humble Hubris: hostel

Following a refreshing cleanse of travel grime (courtesy of the bathroom floor, which was a standing lake), we settled into our room and cheerfully made small talk with one of our roommates, a Polish fellow, who unfortunately turned out to be a Potential Roommate #1: The Crazy Gabber.

Small talk  evolved into big talk, as he proceeded to tell us his entire life story. Unlike Irish English, I lamentably understood every word of Polish English, down to each excruciating detail of how he was working in Ireland in order to send money to his impoverished Polish family. A charming story, really; just not after 24 hours of being awake.

Humble Hubris: hostel gabber

Eventually, the now-pressing need for sleep overwhelmed our good manners, and we stopped responding to him. He kept talking. We told him to shut up. He kept talking. In a sleep-deprived delirium, I threw my water bottle at him, hoping the physical force would convey the verbal message he obviously wasn’t understanding.

I don’t feel guilty about that act of violence. He deserved it, and besides, it was filtered water. It was probably good for him.

Humble Hubris: Water Missle

And still, the relentless fiend kept gabbing. Finally, we resorted to ‘playing dead.’ I can sympathize with hunted animals on a whole new level now: the clammy desperation, the dread of blowing your cover, the rustlings of the nearby hunter, the chilling sound of the weapon cocking  (which in this case was a verbal flood that threatened to implode my brains with the ferocity of a bullet).

Humble Hubris: hunted

It worked. His torrent of verbal vomit slowed, when he finally realized we must be dead. No point in wasting a riveting story on corpses!

The next morning, we requested and moved to a private room. After spending the day jaunting about Dublin, we returned to the hostel to find our Polish friend  speaking loudly to the receptionist, and then viciously point at us when we entered. The receptionist asked where we had been that day.

Apparently, 2,000 euros had been stolen from Polish Man’s locker in our former room the night we shared it with him. We appeared highly suspicious, as we requested to move to a different room after the robbery occurred. Thankfully, they realized we were Americans and the Marines would launch an international rescue operation if they so much as fined us, so we got off the hook.

spoiled american

Thoroughly scarred by our hostel experience, we opted for hotels for the rest of our European adventure. They say the best part of traveling is the people you meet and the stories you hear. I generally agree, with the caveat that the bonding occurs in a pub, or on a subway – NOT in your bedroom.

I now travel with a stainless steel water bottle: gabbers, beware!

Life Lessons With My Bunny

Life is short.

Especially for Clover. At the most, 12 years is all she has.

So how does she make the most of her tiny tenure here on Earth? By eating, pooping and sleeping all day long. We can learn much from her.

Here are a few of the sage life lessons I’ve learned from observing the little furball:

1. It’s ok to never change your bad habits
The people who truly love you will always be there to cover your blunders and clean up the aftermath of your mistakes. If they require you to change and grow, remove them from your life. They are toxic and demanding.

Humble Hubris: Bad Habits

2. Eating is the road to happiness
If you’ve been told anything else, you’ve been fooled. Eating is about the only thing Clover does, and she is remarkably free of depression, anxiety and stress. I suspect Clover took her philosophy directly from the Holy Scriptures (I  catch her meditating – i.e. pooping – on my Bible between her 100 daily meals). 1 Corinthians 15:32 states: “Let us eat and drink, for tomorrow we die.”

Humble Hubris: Scripture

rt3waq11111111111a66666666666666666666666666666666666666666666666s` (< this happened when Clover took over my keyboard. I knew she had a writer in her! Stay tuned for her upcoming poetry collection on the meaninglessness of life in a cage.)

3. If you’re desperate enough, you can find love anywhere
For the affection-starved, those bunny nibbles are actually miscommunicated kisses. My desperate desire for Clover’s affection has persuaded me that her frantic struggles are not indications of dislike; rather, they are just her bunny way of reciprocating my loving gestures.

I came to this conclusion primarily out of delusion, but also because I’ve observed that in human relations, gestures of love can often be misinterpreted by the recipient. For example: you snap at someone, but only because you miss them and are hurt by their lack of attention. With that in mind, finding love is a whole lot easier. Just stop being so sensitive and lower your standards! 

love nibbles

4. Being small and cute is the ticket to getting people to love you
Beauty is only fur deep. If you are tiny and cute on the outside, people won’t care what you are like on the inside. Time to lose weight and start saving up for plastic surgery! Should be much easier than wasting  time on developing myself into a loving and interesting person.

Humble Hubris: Crazy Adult

Humble Hubris: Tiny Bunny

5. Being lazy pays
Food, water and shelter just show up magically everyday if you only let go and stop worrying. Again, my fuzzy little philosopher forges her paradigm from the Bible: “Do not be anxious about tomorrow, for tomorrow will care for itself.”

Humble Hubris: Laziness

6. Bathing daily is unnecessary
Clover washes herself daily.  Many humans have told me I should do so as well.

However, keep in mind that Clover also frolics in her poop and pee daily.  The only time I’m covered in pee is when she kicks her filthy little paws in my face (sometimes I wonder if it’s truly an accident). I won’t draw the obvious and incriminatory parallel to the bathing-once-a-day- proponents. You can do it yourself.

Humble Hubris: poop Side note: if I didn’t have to undress to wash, I might do it daily, too!

7. Bribing your children is the only way to earn their affection
My bunny has taught me that your children will reject your love, no matter how much you sacrifice for them. ALWAYS.

They are ungrateful, selfish and disdain your reasonable requests for cuddles. (Oh gosh, I might have just reasoned myself out of having having kids).

Unless you bribe them with a juicy carrot, a warm meal or cheap rent.

Humble Hubris: Bribing

Oh, to be a bunny!