Sloppy Joe

On a somewhat regular basis, Tracy, my boss at On the Wallaby, would ask me to cook dinner for those of us working there. We got barbeque (steak and sausage or veggie patty, salads, and mashed potato) every night, which could get a little old. Since I love to cook, I was happy to help.

Tracy is a vegetarian, so I had to make sure to leave the meat out of whatever I was preparing. For a couple weeks, I’d been talking up these vegetarian sloppy joes my sister had made, having to explain to Trace what sloppy joes are in the first place (because it’s not a dish in Australia) and how I would make them vegetarian.

I had finally remembered to get the recipe, so the next time we did a grocery run for the lodge, I picked out the lentils and everything else I would need. The plan was make them that Friday because Judith, one of our regular guests who is friends with the owner and Tracy, was coming up for the weekend. Trace had texted Jude to bring her appetite since we were having Monica’s sloppy joes for dinner.

Tracy’s roommate was also over for dinner and was going on blind faith that the meal would be edible—he’d had my food before so wasn’t worried. He works with Americans and had asked them what sloppy joes are, but they couldn’t explain how I could possibly make them vegetarian, seeing as the main ingredient is ground beef.

When Jude showed up, she was confused that our meal was called sloppy joes because, never having heard of the dish, she had interpreted the message “Monica’s sloppy joe” as a new euphemism for some guy named Joe who I was messing around with, like the whole thing was a sloppy mess. And that Joe would be at dinner.


* For any non-Americans, sloppy joes are a crumbly hamburger with onions, green bell peppers (capsicum), celery, and a ketchup-based (tomato sauce) sauce mixed in. They’re served on a hamburger bun (bread roll) and may be eaten picked up as a sandwich, but they’re usually so sloppy that it’s easier to consume open-faced with a knife and fork.

Calculating a 17-hour Time Difference

I was very concernicus about calculating the 17-hour time difference, until I realized I could just add 7 hours to Sydney time, and it’s that time yesterday at home.

The time change did mess with my head, and I felt fuzzy for a few days. But I had to make up sleep from Tuesday night and bad sleep on the plane, and I’m getting over a cold, sniffling all over the place.

That said, I’m really glad I got here before my program starts because I don’t think I could have functioned like a real human. I did manage to stay up almost all day on Friday, just a teeny nap during a movie in the hostel’s common room.

Interpreting Questions While Sleeping

After a semester in Seville, Spain my junior year of college, a friend and I traveled through Italy. I was responsible for choosing where we stayed in Venice, and I had to keep in mind that we were on a strict budget, between €15 and 20 per person per night. I had already "messed up" on our Rome accommodations, choosing a place that was €50 per night for a 2-bed room--€25 per person was exorbitant.

The places in town were more expensive, what with Venice being an island so having limited options. So I looked outside the city and found a campsite that had cabins. I checked with Laura, and she was leery but eventually agreed.

The train from Rome arrived in the morning in Venice. Then we had to go back out of the city by train to a bus stop, where we got on a bus that went to the campsite. It took 30-45 minutes to get there.

Once we arrived at the campsite, we checked in and were told we were staying in a tent. By then, we were getting hangry, so we didn't argue. The tents were set up on a concrete slab with two cots. 

Rialto in Venice

We stopped at the general store at the camp entrance to get some food. I got some sort of cookies, and Laura got crackers. We ate while bussing and training back to Venice. Then we jumped on the Vaporetto water bus to St. Mark's square. Since we had some cookies and crackers left over, we fed them to the pigeons. Their little claws felt so weird!

feeding pigeons at St. Mark's

After spending the day in town, we trekked back to the camp. There was a party going on at the lodge, with loud music. I passed out as soon as we got there, not caring about the music. During the night, I flipped over. Laura asked, "Are you awake?" "Nope, just turning over," I replied.

The next day, we hopped on a train to Milan. Laura asked if I remembered our conversation. I mean yea, I was just turning over. She. Was. PISSED. She couldn't fall asleep because of the music so laid awake for hours. She got excited when I flipped over that I might be awake, too, and would chat.

When I told her I was not awake, just turning over, she stewed because clearly, I was awake if I could tell her that I wasn't. She had almost forgiven me, thinking maybe I was talking in my sleep, since I do that, too. However, I had confirmed that I had been awake because I remembered the exchange.

In my defense, I was half asleep. My sides get tired when I sleep, so I usually wake up a few times just enough to flip over then fall right back asleep. In the haze of sleep I cannot be expected to interpret "Are you awake?" to mean "I can't fall asleep, and if you can't sleep, either, keep me company." Oops!

Is This Where You Put Your Children?

not a baby holder

That's exactly what I asked myself upon seeing this when entering the restroom at Goose Island Brewery in Chicago over the weekend. And no, I wasn't drunk. It would be helpful, wouldn't it? For people who have to take their child into the restroom to be able to strap them to the wall and go without having to worry that the kid is going to crawl on the floor, which you know is disgusting and wet. I mean, why is everything in a public restroom wet? But no, it's a nifty hand dryer, the Dyson AirBlade. Sounds pretty bad-ass, right? I felt awkward using it, trying not to touch the sides, because clearly it must be crawling with germs.

because I'm always worried about unsafe TP conditions

Also, the toilet paper dispenser was smart, safe, and sanitary. Because, as Lauren put it, I'm usually worried about my arm being cut off while getting TP. It could happen, people. You should insist your office put in San Jamar TP dispensers, so you too can be safe in the restroom.

Fun with Learning

A lot of learning occurred last week while on vacation with some college friends and one of my sisters in the Florida Keys. There may or may not have been drinking involved. Oh, and John left the room when things got real. Discussion topics included:

Alcohol enemas: The new trend for high schoolers/college students wherein alcohol goes up the pooper because it gets you drunk faster. Really? Doesn't that take the social aspect out of drinking? My sister suggested gin because, "I would rather put gin in my ass hole than in my mouth because it tastes like pine trees."

Anal bleaching: Because some people are self conscious that their anus looks like an anus, and heaven forbid it be the color nature intended. 

Back, sack, and crack (BSC) wax: The male pain equivalent to the Brazilian. 

Third eye: AKA your ass hole. As in "my third eye just closed when discussing alcohol enemas, anal bleaching, and the BSC." 

Hipster: Oh, how to define hipster to someone who was not aware it was a thing? Basically anything with mainstream popularity should be shunned and anything disliked by the mainsteam is super-cool. 

IMDB: really? How can you not know about this?

Manicure vs. pedicure: The token male in the group had not had either but was game to get a pedicure alongside his girlfriend. However he could not remember which term was for hands and which was for feet. It's all about etymology!

Cootchie or Hoo ha cover: As in for my Dominican Republic couples massage with my sister, I had one and she didn't. 

Mustache ride: While discussing poor t-shirt choices for guys ("that's a great story, now go make me a sandwich"), Laura said, "it must be a joke--who would wear that?" I told her have seen guys legit wearing "free mustache rides" shirts.

Like throwing a hotdog down a hallway: This phrase is actually about a loose woman, but we used it to describe very bad sex while responding to the anti-sext "I'm off the market."

I also shared some Bad Lip Reading videos: The Hunger Games, Twilight, and Russian Unicorn.

Looking back, I was the one dispensing the knowledge...hmmm...What does that say about me?