Cats Compensate Change

No, I'm not dripping with diamonds and pearls. And no, I'm not begging on the streets. Though, I might as well have been that day in early August. I was dripping in change.

I was planning to go to the Strand Bookstore, to buy Middlesex and a comic book for Cassidy. I was also going to go meet my friend, who likes cats. I lost track of time and realized I was running a litter late. (Pun intended). I threw on my shoes, grabbed my phone, a jacket, and looked inside my wallet.

Empty.

I had been gone for a month and a half and forgot that I brought all my money with me, only to be spent on a cheap ring, and a lot of chocolate milk. Oh, and an Arizona Iced tea in Arizona. I know, I know, actually the coolest thing. Anyway, there I was, running late, home alone, poor as a chicken.

So of course I called my mom. But neither my mom nor dad had any money around the house for me to use on books. I, at that point most likely on the floor crying to myself, all of a sudden was hit with an idea.

The bucket.
Or buckets,
of random change throughout the house.

I went scavenging throughout the apartment and eventually found seven dollar bills, an assortment of quarters, dimes, and nickels.

So there I was, running through the streets, sounding and looking quite homeless, with a mesmerized smirk on my face.

I took the subway
I found the Strand
I entered the Strand
I found the books
I got in line
I got to the cashier
I realized how painfully hilarious my next move had to be

"I'm really sorry but I'm going to have to pay for these books with change..."

She gave me a blank stare that reminded me of my cousin who is somewhat notorious for that.

"I counted it though. It amounts to $32.76."

Another blank stare. She counted the seven dollars and picked up a quarter.

That's when I started making comments like

"I'm so sorry about this, really I am"

"Oh wow sorry"

"Heh"

The long line seemed to be growling at me

She kept counting and I kept fidgeting with my wallet. Then I started to fidget with my notebook. Aha, yes a solution, I could give her a cute little postcard!

In my notebook I kept a stack of memorabilia from my trip. So, I started shuffling through it. There was one with an old man on it adorned with bright colors and a toothy grin. Above him read the words WE WANT YOU! FOR SHROOMFEST!

Aha, no.

The next was a picture of a cat. It was a delicate illustration on yellowing paper with pencil. I observed the scene. Here I was, watching as the cashier counted my change, holding a picture of a cat and contemplating whether or not I should give it to her.

I waited.
I was five cents short. I added a few more awkward "ehh, ah, oh, yea, that's all the money I have..."

She let it slide. Didn't say anything though. Gave me another blank stare.

I don't know what it was, or why I didn't do it, but I left the store with the picture of the cat in my hands.

I ended up giving it to my friend.

Scuba Diving Dilemma

No... That's not me.


I wish. 


But pace our beliefs you cannot just grab a snorkeling kit jump in the water and make buddies with a whale. Chances are you will run out of air and want a scuba tank, chances are you will also have no clue how in the world you are going to use the scuba tank.

I've had the urge to learn how to scuba dive for a while now (meaning pretty much my entire life), and I finally signed up for a scuba diving open water certification.  I thought about it for weeks, although the actual decision to do the class was spontaneous. I was walking down the street and finally forced myself to go inside and sign up even though I was by myself. See the reality of the situation was... I mentioned the class to many of my friends but none of them were genuinely interested. They would just kind of nod their head and say.. oooh... cool. yea.. well I'm scared of um... water. Or, I don't like the ocean. Or scuba diving is one of those things I just don't ever want to do ever. Or, YES ! I really want to! But then never follow through when I keep bugging them about it. So after a while I just kind of gave up and decided to just do it by myself. It's okay you don't have to cry.


But when I got to the class after paying the friggin fee and buying the equiptment I found out the reality of the class... The class consists of four meetings (I knew that), but what I didn't know was that at the end of the four classes you are not handed a certificate and sent off into the world. Oh no. You get a little permission thingy that allows you to take four open water dives in the real world. And only AFTER the four dives do you get the open water certificate. Now this seems fine until you hear the next part. This little  "permission thingy" expires after one year. The certificate doesn't expire but in order to get the certificate for the rest of my life I  have to do four open water dives in the next year or this class doesn't even matter. 


That's the problem. (Why is this a problem you ask?) I don't have any scuba diving plans for the next year to get in these certified four dives!

Now, at this point I was basically peeing in my pants. I was like- WAIIT A SECC... I THOUGHT I WAS JUST LEARNING TO SCUBA DIVE!!! While these thoughts were racing through my mind everyone at the class was going around in a circle saying "Hi, My name is Martin. I am going to Hawaii in two weeks that is why I am here." "Hello, My name is Nicole, I am going to Burmuda in three weeks.... that is why I am here." When it came up to me I was like, "Um oh hello yes I am lily I am uh... uh... GOING TO A SCUBADIVING CAMP THAT REQUIRES THIS CERITIFCATION?" except I most definitely am not going to a 6000 dollar scuba diving camp.

So then the instructor started talking and talking and I went back to my darn rapid water fall of thoughts in my wee brain thinking, "HOLEY POOP WHAT THE HECK AM I GOING TO DO?" I was thinking... Well... Maybe I can just jump in the hudson river by myself four times and call it a day. But then I snapped myself out of it and carried on with my ideas.


1) I actually find a reasonably priced scuba diving camp.
2) I convince a close friend of mine who might have a scuba diving relative to do the class with me and take me with her and her family on four dives. hahaha good luck lily...
3) convince my family to get certified and we all go somewhere and go diving.
4) do this class... and spend the next year looking for scuba diving opportunities like a mad man until I finally complete four somehow... Maybe I can even go in Pennsylvania or something... 
5) Try to convince my instructor to let me postpone my class until I actually have a place to scuba dive.


And well, that's the current dilemma. Any advice? 
Thanks fellers!
Sorry I haven't written in forever! CHOWWWWDER! 

Everyone Speaks ENGLISH Here...

I just got back from France yesterday. So if any of you were wondering, "where the heck are my random feet?" the answer varies. Randomfeet was taking a little summer break from the computer, and your random feet are secured to the bottom of your legs. HAHAHA Oh lily, you just get funnier everyday. 


Now that I have stopped talking to myself, I will continue on to express my utter confusion while entering the states once again. Let me take you back to entering the airplane. I got into the airplane at 10Am (France time, 4Am NY time) and La di da di da sat down in my coach seat, anxiously awaiting the time I could spend hours (eight to be exact) doing absolutely nothing important. And by that I mean watching television, movies, playing elephant memory games with mr. I love peanuts, and listening to Hindu music. The plane took off and I did exactly that. But what was so strange was feeling like it was only midday when I got out of the plane (the time it was in NY). In France however it was 6PM. Maybe doing absolutely nothing all day tricked my mind into thinking 8 hours was really only two? 


Anyways, I get into the car. My dad has turned into an excited wilderness explorer monkey while I was away. In the back trunk thrives a forest of bamboo, squashes, and pretty flower things. Followed by vegetables, and of course the juicer isn't in the car, it's in the apartment. I hear him talking about Pennsylvania (the house we are fixing) in the background while I look ignorantly out the window. 


Thoughts leaving my head like, "Did that person just say thank you very much, or am I imagining it?" "Look! Shiny yellow car!" "Oh my god, that sign is in ENGLISH." "Where'd my baker go?" "ENGLISH?"


When my dad handed the tunnel lady a 5 dollar bill I stared at it like a lost child. 


"Can- can- can I see that?"


My dad handed me a one dollar bill to play with. I couldn't help feeling like it was only truly a piece of paper that had a picture of an old guy on it. I missed the shiny color money from France.


Later I walked around and felt really weird. Everyone was speaking english. I was so used to having to use my brain when listening to people, only understanding about 85% of what they were saying, that when I heard "YEAH, YEAH, OKAY SEE YA... OHKAYY BYE." I felt like I was out of place. I felt like I was on a block with a bunch of people that go home and sing, "BLA BLA BLA! BLA BLA!" If that even makes sense. Is it really bad that I miss people gracefully speaking like french milk? "Oue, oue, d'accord.  A demian, salut!" Or entering a store and hearing, "Bonjour"'s everywhere. Or understanding someone in french and telling them where the madeleins where (which, by the way, TOTALLY happened.)


I was a tourist for a month, and then coming back to NY felt like one all over again. I mean, imagine if I go to France for a year, I'll come back to the US and actually may be out of my mind. 


EVERYONE SPEAKS ENGLISH HERE!!!!!!!!! AHHHHHHHH GET ME A BAGETTE OR I WILL HURT YOU BADLY. WHErE's MY FLAMMAKEUCHE?????

Pitch Dark

A few days ago I went to see PLAY DEAD, an off-off Broadway spooky play... that REALLY SPOOKED ME, my friend Lola, and my grandma out. To keep it short, he told us TRUE tales of murderers, one that skinned children alive. oh my god. and then we were left in total darkness in a room of 100 strangers who were advised to do anything to anyone. I got poked on the head and everyone was screaming loudly and laughing like creepy monsters... it was quite frightening.

Then, the guy talking to us ate a light bulb right in front of us.
I KNOW.
HE ATE A LIGHT BULB.
It wasn't chocolate. It wasn't candy. In fact, he showed it working right before he ate it. Then he took a bite, and progressively ATE it, making the loudest chewing sounds. It was absolutely amazing. But that didn't necessarily creep me out...

But then you see... he took out a rat.
And I swear I thought he was going to bite it's head off.
It may seem strange that I would have thought that... But I had just recovered from the total darkness and his light bulb trick had me convinced he really would eat anything.
So, yes I thought he was going to eat a rat.
He DIDN'T. Thank goodness.

But anyways... Being in total darkness was kind of fun really. And I liked not being able to see anything. Absolutely nothing. It was really cool, so last night I tried to brush my TEETH in total darkness...

I felt around for the tooth paste... Grabbed something else.
I felt around for my tooth brush, and could thankfully identify which was mine rather than my sisters or mothers...
And THEN, I searched for my retainer.
Which incidentally created so much noise and destruction that I started laughing.
I just couldn't find it without my eye sight.
I picked up all these towels and hand creams, makeup and sticky sticky opened bottles but nothing felt remotely like my retainer case.

This may be a pointless story but I just like darkness. Or, at least... I like completely ignoring a sense, or disabling myself from using it. I mean, that may be weird. And I would never want to be blind... Obviously. But I also just like to see if my eyes can adjust to being in darkness for a really long time. I only gave it about 5 or 10 minutes but still... try it yourself it's fun. :) hehe

Feeding a Bird Blindfolded

Guilt, oh the guilt.

I've felt this guilt for months now and I think it is finally time to express it, to release it, embrace it, and send it out for others to reprimand me for...

I was at the pier, re-reading a book, and eating my sandwich under a tree. It was a chicken teriyaki subway sandwich with chicken (doy!), unions, lettuce, cheese, and peppers in it. Yum yum yum. With the sun on my feet and enough shade for reading, I was quite happy, and could hear little birds chirping above me. As one of them approached me, I obviously wanted to feed it so I took off a little piece of my sandwich and threw it near the bird. The bird picked it up and flew back to its tree.

If you aren't screaming right now I don't think you realize what I did.
Or maybe you don't care about birds...
But let me translate...

I FED A BIRD A PIECE OF CHICKEN.
it's like you feeding your baby another human.

I AM A MONSTER!!

Just in case this poor bird checks my blog:

dear little bird,
I can not express my sadness for you. You have just eaten one of your own. One of the birds that could not fly. That could not escape the humans that domesticated it, killed it, and ate it. All I want you to do is know that I will return the badness on to myself. Tonight I will eat my sisters hand. That's right. I will eat my sisters hand. Get a fire going, add some spices, and I will eat it. This is the only way I can feel the disgust right when you ate the chicken.
Now just a moment... Let's say you have never eaten chicken before (which is hopefully the truth) you couldn't have possibly known what chicken tastes like. So you might have thought you were only eating fruit or something! Unless of course you are extraordinarily bright and can understand English, or understand the concept of how different fruits taste (chicken not tasting like any of them) or can tell by looking at the food what type of animal it is. But if you knew what kind of meat the chicken was by looking at it, you would NOT be able to blame me for feeding you because you willingly ate it! Haha!
Oh little birdie, perhaps I am not to blame.
Or perhaps I do not make sense...
Or perhaps you took the chicken and did not eat it.
Phew!
Yes, that's it you didn't eat the chicken!
But I was looking forward to eating my sisters hand...
Maybe I still will...
Maybe I should stop freaking you out poor little birdie.
Good bye now.
Don't eat food from strangers that are reading and aren't paying attention.
Bye bye now!
I still think you ate it.
- me

BEACH camping

Have you ever slept on the beach overnight? Well let me tell you, it's fun. But you never know what may come at you. Maybe you have a wonderful time, with a moon, a sunset, you hear some nice birds singing in the morning, and you catch a lot of fish. See that would have been quite convenient. But no.

No, of course that didn't happen. See what we experienced was just as fun, if not more fun, just a little crazy. No sunset, the clouds were too thick, and as night came around we realised we lacked a moon too. Not to mention the big roaring waves that invaded our happy little spot. Waves would go under our chairs, and nearly hit our car. So we moved back. And back again. But this wasn't the worst part. You see, these waves seemed to carry all of these little jumping crabs. These crabs came in 100s. And liked our feet.

We would have 100 little crabs invading our area at one moment, and then a wave would crash and bring another hundred. And if you know the ocean, waves come frequently. Especially when they are rollers.

These jumping crabs were worse then mosquitoes and green heads put together. They will just crawl all over your feet and dance, and jump. But that hardly matters, see after a few moments of uncomfortable little crabs on your feet, they will start to dig their claws into your skin. It's disturbing. So not only were we on a loud beach, with huge crashing waves, looking up at a pitch dark sky with no moon, and an unsatisfying sunset, but we all had our legs sticking awkwardly out in the air, avoiding the little midnight jumping crabs, that liked our feet.

At about 2 in the morning we made a bed out of blankets on the damp beach. I had finally started to drift off to sleep when a crab jumps into my ear. Shall I repeat? MY EAR! My... EAR. A little jumping crab jumped its way into my ear, while I was sleeping. Do you know how absolutely disturbing it is to be half a sleep and have a gross little baby jumping crab fly into your ear? It's horrific. It's awful. So I scream, and don't deny it, you would scream too. I get out of my sleeping bag, and get the crab OUT OF MY EAR. And of course then it starts to rain, and thunder, and lightening appears, and after a few minutes the lightening comes close enough to threaten us on our metal chairs.

So we spend the night in the car.

Not quite toothpaste

We all have childhood fears. Do you remember the boogie monster? The monster under your bed? The poisonous apple from snow white? Or getting poisoned from a mouth wash? Okay maybe the last one isn't so common, but it definitely happens. Growing up I was always a bit afraid of the WARNINGS on the medicine containers. The poisonous factors of antibiotics or mouth rinses, "If more than used for rinsing is accidentally swallowed, get medical help or contact a Poison Control Center RIGHT AWAY." Is it not normal to be scared of these warnings? What if I don't realise I swallowed too much? What if the poison center is closed? What if I don't get there right away because there is traffic? Whenever I would rinse my mouth with an "Anti-cavity Fluoride Rinse" or mouth wash, I would be extremely cautious and rinse my mouth several times after with water. I just wanted to be safe you know?

Or the cream medicines, "KEEP OUT OF EYES", "KEEP OUT OF REACH OF CHILDREN" And then I'd ask my mom, "I'm a child why are you putting this cream on me?" I don't know about you but I was very cautious when I was a little girl.

But as you grow up, you realise how these warnings are only slightly true. How they are exaggerated, just to be safe. So that if something happens, the company won't be sued. So this morning, I guess you could call me casual as I reached for the tooth paste, not really scared of anything. Being slightly normal. But casual enough not to check if the tooth paste was in fact toothpaste.

For about a week now I have had these two burns on my left arm. You see, I like to think I am handy with a hair curler, yea well apparently I'm not. Because when I tried to curl my hair last week, well. I guess you could say it didn't go very well. But who can resist a beautiful new curling iron? With a cheetah print handle? That is practically calling my name? So I tried it out, and burned my arm... twice. We got antibiotic cream for the burns.

And through my casualties I picked up this antibiotic cream instead of toothpaste this morning, and started to use it on my teeth.

Missing sock

I don't like to do laundry. Who does? But my reason is a bit different then yours probably. You see, my laundry bin is this huge metal cylinder, with holes that seem to grate your fingers as though you were cheese, and it takes all my body weight to bring it over to the laundry room. I can't even carry it. It rests on my toes and I wiggle over to the room.

But just now. I had the oddest thing happen...

I was wigglying over to the laundry room, when my sock fell off. But that was no biggy, so I went into the laundry room and did my laundry business. But here is the weird part. As I left the laundry room, across the hall I saw my neighbors door closing. I also noticed that my sock was missing...

My neighbor stole my sock.

Okay, is that not the most random thing for a neighbor to do? And now I'm kind of angry because well. I liked that sock a lot. And now my neighbor has it.

What the heck is my neighbor going to do with my dirty sock?