I Feel Like a Pin Cushion

This week I finally started my preparations for travel to India. A visa is in the works (I hope, the university is supposed to be taking care of that). But, on Monday, I did something equally important.

I was stabbed with a ton of needles! And no, it was not exciting like that exclamation point may lead you to believe.

The university has a Travel Clinic intended to help students like myself avoid disastrous, jungle diseases. I was given a total of five vaccinations which covered seven diseases, varying from flu to typhoid to polio. My boyfriend has been calling me Typhoid Carrie this week. I hope I won't unknowingly cause an epidemic of pertussis or diphtheria.

You know it's a lot of shots when they won't even give you a band-aid for each prick. They start stabbing you close together so they won't have to be wasteful with medical supplies. It feels pretty cheap when I'm only given three band-aids for five shots. I didn't even get a sucker. Damn.

My appointment was with a five foot tall Chinese woman. She looked a lot more menacing when various needles were laid out on the counter. The teddy bear designed quilt laying on the cot didn't help the creepy factor. I was glad I got to sit in an office chair instead of on that. It seemed like a horror movie waiting to happen. I guess it's only on faith that I was immunized for those diseases, it'a always possible it was a conspiracy to give me the plague.

Thankfully, I have avoided terrible side-effects as yet. The worst that has happened has been terrible pains in both my arms. (After all, with five shots they do two in one shoulder, two in the other, and the last on the underside of an arm, stupid polio). Two days after being poked I can once again lift my arms above my shoulders. Success.

Until next time, God bless America.

Geometric Shapes = Genders?

Have you ever walked by the restrooms in the U.S. and not known which is the men's and which is the women's? I haven't. The little pictures are pretty self-explanatory.

Look, obviously a women's bathroom. Even if you can't read the word, "WOMEN", you still know. Her....stylish shirt dress gives it away at first glance. And, if you are still lost and think it may be a kilt, you can simply compare it to the sign on the other door.

While it is true that people can wear pants regardless of gender, I think the point of these are pretty clear.

I had always figured this was common worldwide. If I could tell the difference between cartoon humanoid cutouts and knew the words for men and women in whatever language was native, I'd be fine. 

I was wrong. Oh, the naivety of me. 

This is what I got for assuming others do things the same way Americans do.

What?!?! A circle or a triangle, what is that supposed to mean? Wait, I'm a smart woman. I made it through engineering school. I've taken 14 years of math. I should be more than qualified to tell the different between basic geometric shapes. I can logic this out.

Which to choose? Which to choose? Hmmm, do I think women are more likely to be represented by circles or triangles?

I guess we're curvy so maybe we're round, like circles.

But, I am wearing a skirt, and it is rather triangle-shaped.

And, we're known for being nice so would someone really consider women to have such pointy edges?

Really, do I want to consider myself a circle? I think that implies I'm fat. Stupid circle.

Argh....this isn't getting me anywhere.

Geometric shapes do not seem like a good alternative to little humanoid cutouts. Thankfully, some university students helped me out and I was able to avoid stepping into the men's restroom and being yelled at to leave in Polish. Or worse, stepping into the men's restroom and not being yelled at to leave in Polish.

Make sure to remember women are circles and men are triangles. It may come in helpful some day. Maybe I should start drawing people like this to try and ingrain it in your mind.

On second thought, I don't think so. Neither Josh nor I look very happy. I vote we stick with the humanoid cutouts.

Until next time, God bless America.

I know it's been a while....

I feel like such a failure having taken so long to update. But I have an excuse, I've written two papers, given two presentations, and had a test in the last two days. The joys of being a grad student. It's so much fun to read a hundred pages of journal articles about on-ramp merging models, planning theory, and the correct way to perform a safety study. Ugh.

I do have one better excuse (which is also more relevant to this blog topic). I'm planning a vacation!!!!

Want a clue as to where?

How about this?

Thoughts?

     A Star Wars convention and you didn't do your Leia-hair very well.

Um, no. I'm not that much of a dork.

     A secret cult meeting where you worship black circles.

Once again, no. I prefer trapezoids anyway.

     Spain.

Let me say this in Spanish, no.

We're going to Disney World! And by we, I mean my boyfriend and I. That's him standing there next to me. He's the one who so wonderfully brings Quinton to life.

I absolutely love Disney. I really may be that much of a dork...or secretly a six year old who was abducted by aliens and had my child's body replaced with an adult female version. If you don't like Disney, I'm sorry I'm not sure we can be friends.

And, because I'm sure you're wondering, I may have to pull out a fanny pack.

Until next time, God bless America.

The Creeping Creeper Who Creeps

We all have different definitions of what we consider "normally" friendly. You may be a hand shaker, a hugger, or an emphatic waver. I hope you're not one of those who stands in the corner with crazy eyes, a serial killer smile, and stares.

What I find most interesting is how geographic these definitions are. Take, for example, how things work in Nebraska.

If you don't believe me, you've obviously never met a Husker fan. I've had random Nebraska cheers aimed at me in Oklahoma, Texas, Florida, and Germany just for wearing a red shirt with an "N" on it. It's kind of like a not-so-secret cult, actually. We're not crazy, just a little too friendly for some people.

When we're not bonding over our love of football, volleyball, and various other sporting events, we Americans like to greet each other with the smile and nod. Let's see how this works. Here comes Jerry and Tim.

They're both a little preoccupied with mp3 players and smart phones to actually talk to someone in person. Why would you do that? That's what technology is for. So instead, they settle for the friendly, "Look I'm acknowledging your existence with a nod as if to say, 'Sup'?". That's classy.

The weird thing is this can come off odd in other places. I quickly realized the American welcome of smile and nod is not really acceptable in other places. Let's see what happens when Philip meets Eva on the street.

Ouch, they're trying as hard as possible to avoid eye contact. I definitely don't see a smile or a nod coming. It looks we're going to settle for cold indifference or choosing to blatantly ignoring people. This is why when I walked around smiling, looking everyone in the eye, and nodding I came off as a creeper. You tend to get stared at, and not in a "That American chick is so adorable" kind of way. Here's what it looked like when I ran into Philip.

Really, I was just trying to be friendly. Though I may have done just a little more than smile and nod. I can't help that I'm super excited to be somewhere other than Nebraska. I'm not actually a creeper, though a few Europeans may disagree.

Until next time, God bless America.

J-J-J-J-J-J-J-Jaywalking

Have you ever been almost killed by a Hungarian car?
I have.

Definitely wasn't the highlight of my vacation. At least I wasn't actually hit, broken bones were not my idea of a good souvenir. That's why I've decided that I'm going to to share some information about international crosswalks so you can make it home with all your appendages intact. You're welcome :).

I'm a college student so I jaywalk constantly. If a car is coming I know it's going to stop for me because I'm just that awesome. This is also true if that "car" happens to be a tractor. I'm from Nebraska, that's more common than you'd think. And really, there's no reason to be scared of tractors, they don't even go that quickly. Besides, Nebraskans always stop for pedestrians because they only want to rundown you down if you're a deer or a squirrel.

Midwesterners are never in a hurry. Cities are small and there isn't much else nearby. How much of a hurry can you be in if the only thing outside a 5-mile radius is a corn field? And, I doubt a 10 second stop will make you late to the office six blocks away. To make sure you got it, here's how it works in Nebraska.

Walk sign is on, go right ahead. The guy in the tractor is even wishing you a good day.

Don't walk, go right ahead. The guy in the tractor is still wishing you a good day.

That's not quite how it works in Europe. No one jaywalks. It was incredibly weird for me to see people stand on the corner, even when no one was coming. You start to wonder if they're blind and simply didn't see the sign. If you do try and cross, bam, $60 fine. Ouch. I'd rather spend that on some fancy doodads.

More importantly, since no one jaywalks, drivers don't watch for you. If you aren't supposed to be walking, they'll speed right on by. At least the cars are tiny. They're so small they may just bounce off but you probably don't want to risk it. Here's what my experience was like.

Walk sign is on, look at me go. That little car is waiting for me oh so patiently.

Don't walk, I'm glad I didn't get too far out there. My poor bows!!!! I hope they didn't fall down a sewer grate.

Some countries are worse than others. Take Italy for example, you may be hit regardless of the walk sign. All those mopeds seem to be in quite a hurry. Here's what it looked like.

Sorry, you need to excuse me. I'm going to go cry in the fetal position now.

Until next time, God bless America.

Would You Like a City Tour?

No, I would not like a city tour thank you very much. This is the most commonly asked question to any American tourist. As previously mentioned in "White Tennis Shoes are Super Sexy", Americans have a tendency to stick out. Therefore, panderers stalk us like predators. You can see their eyes light up with, "Look, Americans, they have money, mwahahahahahaha". If you're lucky, you may be harassed by someone who doesn't use a demonic laugh.

I'm sure you won't be lucky enough to avoid them all so we need to prepare you for when they bother you. This is what it started to sound like as I walked down the street.

Would you like a city tour?
No thank you.
City tour?
No.
Take a city tour?
No!
Sure you wouldn't like a city tour?
Leave me the hell alone!
City tour?
Don't make me mace you.

Hopefully your patience is greater than mine. I've been told the best thing to do is ignore them but it's a little hard to do when you're hot and your feet are killing you. Some panderers are going to just have to deal with a little frustration.

I found the best way to make it past the obnoxious city tour aficionados is to blend in. You walk around by yourself dressed as much like the native population as possible. Obviously, this doesn't work when in large groups of if you simply don't look at all like the native population. We know Quinton would have problems with that. So, I think it's time we invent a new approach to avoid them. Watch me and follow along.

Ha, I bet you can't see me. And then, neither can the panderers. Maybe you should pick up on my camouflage techniques so you can avoid them too, and save yourselves $100 or some jail time.

Until next time, God bless America.

It's Time to Institute a 3-foot Rule

Today I would like to introduce the idea of proximity. In particular, proximity to things you shouldn't be near. And no, I'm not talking about germy people, deranged exes, rabid dogs, or crazed fans. Even though I think you need to watch out for those too. Here's what happened to me last weekend. I was afraid for my life.

If only. Here's what really happened last weekend.

Ok, ignoring those self-deprecating thoughts, I would like to broach the topic of things you shouldn't be near which are worth more than your house. Travel gives incredible opportunities to see priceless works of art. You can drink in the sights of the masters or, more likely, make yourself seem incredibly cultured next time you want to hit on a waitress. You'll be talking about the elegance of Van Gogh's brushstrokes and how you were exhilarated by that Monet. You can sound like a worldly, high-class gentleman. Or an ass. But you never know, some women like that.

While it seems like it should be common sense, an art museum is a situation for "lookie no touchie". I doubt we can convince the Louvre to do an interactive play-doh exhibit. Though, that would be awesome. Until we can, we have to keep our proximity beyond the damage threshold. Look at Winston here, he's doing such a good job.

Most Americans are well aware of this because we know what will happen if we don't follow this rule. Let's see how Bertrand does.

That probably wasn't a good idea. Here's what happened next.

Ouch. It looks like Bertrand isn't doing so hot. Maybe you shouldn't try and poke a painting. That seems pretty obvious. But one thing that isn't as obvious, the acceptable proximity to pieces of art vary greatly. I've devised a graph to explain this.

As you can see from the graph, there is a certain distance you much stay away from even the worst art. When you get to point A, the distance drastically increases. Point A applies to art done by people you'd hear about in an introductory art history class. Assuming you took and weren't just texting the entire time.

Point B is a little more interesting. Point B is where the acceptable proximity starts to increase exponentially. The location of this point varies depending on the type of art. I will break it into "Art that Looks Like Stuff" and "Art that Looks Like it Was Done by a Kindergartner". You know what I'm talking about.

In the case of "Art that Looks Like Stuff", point B is where viewers spontaneously break out crying while in its presence. In the case of "Art that Looks Like it Was Done by a Kindergartner", this is where it becomes so ugly that, if it was actually done by a kindergartner, the parents would be too embarrassed to even put it on the fridge. Better stay away from that. The ugliness may rub off on you.

Not all tourists seem to have gotten this memo. I once saw a little, Italian boy on a field trip put his hand on a Michelangelo statue. Too bad my spidey senses weren't buzzing or I would have stepped in with a dramatic

NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I could have tackled him to the ground to deter this horrendous snafu. Maybe it was good I didn't. The clumsy person I am probably would have looked like this afterward.

This is why I think we need to institute a 3-foot rule. It's just safer for everyone.

Until next time, God bless America.