Tuesday, June 8, 2010
Anywho, on a lighter note.
At hair school the other day I had THE cutest little girl ever. Yes, ever.
It was her birthday and she and ten friends came to get their hair and nails did.
She was turning five.
She was dressed up as a princess and her brother was dressed as a skeleton, just because they wanted to. I love moms like this!
So here's parts of our conversation-
Me: how do you want your hair done?
Me: You are seriously so cute! I could just eat you up.
Me: What do you want to be when you grow up?
Princess: A Doctor!....and a princess!
Then her mom walks over and the little girl says, "Mom we're having so much fun, she thinks I'm totally so cute!"
Me: What princess are you today?
Princess: HOW DID YOU KNOW!?
Anna My friend: Do you know Cinderellas boyfriends name?
princess names it and we ask her if she has a boyfriend and start to giggle cause it's so cute and she just looks down and has this saddest face ever and says "you're making fun of me"
My heart just sunk! Here is this most darling girl ever and she thinks we're laughing at her. I forget how easily your feelings can get hurt when you're little.
I wish I had a picture of this little blonde hair, blue eyed doll.
Thursday, June 3, 2010
In March Trevor and I were lucky enough to travel to Europe where the tables were turned on me. I absolutely LOVED it! It was gorgeous, delicious, thrilling, peaceful, and I learned so much about the European culture. (Now why don’t we have a la siest?!) But on the other hand it was a culture shock. France is a socialist country. They have free health care, they don’t have customer service, and they definitely don’t clean up after themselves. They just expect the government to take care of that.
While we were staying at a Disney Paris hotel we were put in a room on the third floor. We thought we’d only be staying for two nights but decided to stay an extra night. When we made the reservation for the third night we asked to stay in our same room and because the hotel was not busy in the least we thought it would be fine. But because it was easier for THEM to put us in a different room on the first floor, they did. While we were waiting in line at the hotel to get our internet password for the third time,(because they wouldn’t give it to us over the phone and they changed it all the time) a man with a British accent went up to the counter and told the girl his key wasn’t working to his room. She responded by saying “The key machine is broken”. And went back to what she was doing. Obviously the British man was upset, he proceeded to try to figure out another solution and made a big enough fuss that finally another, not busy employee was sick of him asking for a manager and finally grabbed one. Also, the hotels carpet in the entrance was dirty, and bleach stained. This wasn’t just because the hotel was a bad one, it isn’t just the European attitude, it’s the socialist attitude of “I don’t have to do anything, you can go somewhere else and it won’t be any better”. Because, it won’t in Europe.
Paris, one of the most beautiful city’s in the world, a huge tourist destination, is covered in graffiti and garbage. They pee outside, in public. If they don’t have a job, the government will give them a place to live, a little ghetto, but fine. Plus a stipend every month. The people who actually work, are paying for this life style, which is something like half of their wages. They are paying for some government worker to clean up the dog poop, cigarette buds, and garbage on the streets.
A little more for customer service from a restaurant: You are lucky if you are greeted, lucky if it is within 30 minutes. I asked what kind of meat I was getting, “poultry”, What kind of poultry, “poultry”. I still have no idea what kind of a bird I ate. I ordered a water, asked for it several times, never got it, charged for it. They are la-hazey.
Anyways, after my week and a half of being there I realized how bad it is to live in a socialist country. To make this simple, it breeds under achievement.
And Dear Bums, Please try not to PEE on the all the Metros I ride on if I go back? Also Dear Europeans, please don’t STARE and KEEP staring after I see you staring at me, it’s very uncomfortable. I will also teach you how to use soap and water LOTS, and how to brush your freakin’, yup freakin’ teeth.
Why is it that one or two days a month I am weird? I am perfectly fine, then BAM! I’m tearing up on my car ride home from school listening to a some country song. A song, if you skipped that part. Then I go to the grocery store to buy some salmon and it’s expensive, so I decide that I just won’t eat. Then I’m straight up mad at everything, and the Trevsies asks why? And of course I break down because I have no idea why!
Dear hormones, go away.