Sunday Favorites: Mills Fleet Farm

New to A Lady Reveals Nothing? You've missed SO MUCH. Not to worry. Every Sunday, I dig through the archives to repost an old favorite. Mostly because I'm too lazy to come up with new content every single day. Enjoy! This story originally appeared on August 15, 2013:





My friends and I stopped at a Mills Fleet Farm on a recent girls' weekend trip, because, obviously. There was shopping to be done. I still needed some dark denim Wrangler farm girl jeans and some Cowboy boots. Because, obviously.

I tried on some other shoes, too:

I posted that picture on Facebook, because, obviously. Ten minutes later, I received a text from my little sister Kasey. She had apparently also just paid a visit to the old Fleet Farm:

Like a couple of freaking twins separated at birth who get reunited and show up to meet each other for the first time in the same freaking dress.

Sunday Favorites: A Cryptic Message

New to A Lady Reveals Nothing? You've missed SO MUCH. Not to worry. Every Sunday, I dig through the archives to repost an old favorite. Mostly because I'm too lazy to come up with new content every single day. Enjoy! This story originally appeared on August 26, 2011:

Summer arrived in New Orleans just two days before me.  I got a text from her that said, "btw I have a piece of info about some of our neighbors.  I'm worried you might die."  I was like, "what?" and she said, "It's too good.  I wanna see your face."

When I arrived, Ashley and Summer took me into our bathroom and had me look out the window.  "Over there is the convent.  There are real nuns living there."  etc.  "And, see that pink house?  With the green shutters?  OK.  See that little grey one to the left of it?  With the black shutters?..."

She wasn't getting to the point fast enough and so I was like, "who lives there?"

Summer looked into my soul and asked, "who would make you die?"

SHUT THE FRONT DOOR.

I am living less than one block away from the Jolie-Pitts.

I don't even know what to do with this information.

I think Summer was pleased with my reaction, as I hyperventilated and collected myself and then hyperventilated some more.  Here is a photo out of our bathroom window.  Their house is the little gray one in the center.  With the two dormer windows.

I swear I saw Brad watching me go pee last night.  What a creep!  (Just kidding.  They're not home.)

Here's a picture of the front of their house, which I walk by every morning and every night when I go to and from my car.  I stole it from another website, since I will not be caught dead photographing their place (in the open).  I only keep my face straight ahead while my eyes stare the whole way by, looking for signs of life.

Photo stolen from bittenandbound.com

If you know me, you know that I think of Brad and Angelina as personal friends and frequently have daydreams of running into their family by Lake Nokomis in Minneapolis, asking them "what are you doing in town?" and then inviting them over for dinner.  Of course they come.  In my imagination, we laugh and talk.  The kids get a kick out of my made-up-on-the-spot poop songs, such as Fishing in the Toilet for Poop and Pee.

LOOKS LIKE MY DREAMS ARE ABOUT TO COME TRUE, FOLKS.

Sunday Favorites: Flush and Brush!

New to A Lady Reveals Nothing? You've missed SO MUCH. Not to worry. Every Sunday, I dig through the archives to repost an old favorite. Mostly because I'm too lazy to come up with new content every single day. Enjoy! This story originally appeared on February 1, 2013:

In Kathmandu, Nepal, Summer and I contacted some friends of friends and were invited for dinner. We hit it off and stayed up laughing and talking way too late and ended up spending the night. In the morning, we had to get back to our hostel and get Summer off to the airport for her flight to London.

But somebody was knocking at my back door. Hard. I didn't want to use their toilet, because their bathroom had a one foot space on top of the door and so even with the door shut, it was technically open. And everybody was just outside the bathroom finishing up breakfast. But, I had no choice. It was urgent.

Actual photo of their bathroom.

 

I did my best and deepest squat and against my preference proceeded to make embarrassing toilet noises. (When that happens to me my defense strategy is to laugh, in case anybody heard and then at least they'll know that I thought it was funny and am not trying to hide it.)

Then I flushed. The slow trickle of water was no match. Nothing.

I flushed again.

At this point I had no choice but to yell out to my hosts: "What do I do? It won't go down!"

Their response, in unison: "FLUSH AND BRUSH!"

I looked in the corner and saw the blue brush next to the toilet. (You can see it in the above photo.) I flushed. And I brushed. And I washed the turd down.

Sunday Favorites: Bathroom Incident

New to A Lady Reveals Nothing? You've missed SO MUCH. Not to worry. Every Sunday, I dig through the archives to repost an old favorite. Mostly because I'm too lazy to come up with new content every single day. Enjoy! This story originally appeared on February 10, 2009:

So, I will try to describe this incident as hilariously as it happened in real life. Keri, Nancy, Andrea and I had dinner at The Fish Market in San Diego. We had a great time. Believe me. We ordered a bottle of wine, there were Bloody Marys, Gin and Tonics, sushi, Wahoo, incorrectly placed plastic trees that tickled my hair all night, the works. Everything you need for the perfect dinner out. So we leave our table, happy and smiling and ready to pee our pants. We head single file up to the restrooms. I'm in the lead and Keri is behind me. Andrea is behind her and Nancy is in the rear. As we approach the bathroom door, another woman comes up from a different direction, and looks as though she may split our group by going in behind me in line. And so I say, "After You!" She looked at me a little strangely and said, "Thank you!" a little too much like I was doing her some big favor. So I said, "Well there are four of us...hahahahaha HAHAHAA HHAAA!!! AHAH!" Like I do with strangers. And so she went into the bathroom and I went in behind her, followed closely by Keri and Andrea. Nancy was yelling "NO!" in the back and then I saw why. The three of us were SMACK DAB behind this woman, almost pushing her into a ONE. STALL. BATH. ROOM. As soon as I saw the toilet, sink and garbage, and realized this was not a multiple stall room I looked at her in horror. She looks at us like we are crazy and then says,

"I'll just be two minutes."

image stolen from the "internet"

Sunday Favorites: Chewing Gum

New to A Lady Reveals Nothing? You've missed SO MUCH. Not to worry. Every Sunday, I dig through the archives to repost an old favorite. Mostly because I'm too lazy to come up with new content every single day. Enjoy! This story originally appeared on April 4, 2015:

The resort where we stayed in Cancun had a fancy Italian restaurant where we ate most nights. After a long day of reading books and doing nothing on the beach, we'd all head up to our rooms, shower and meet back downstairs for a delicious meal and drinks. There were eleven of us, and so we had to be split up at two tables.

We wore our best dresses and drank wine and were very, very fancy.

Look how fancy!

After dinner the first night, I stood up to go and chat with the other table. We discussed what they ate and how good it was. An older man who worked at the restaurant came up to me and grabbed my arm and dragged me back to the table where I was sitting, to the spot where I was eating. He seemed very agitated when he said to me, "PLEASE DO NOT PUT YOUR GUM UNDER THE TABLE CLOTH." 

The staff were changing out the linens and sure enough, at my spot, under the table cloth was a piece of gum.

YOU GUYS. It was NOT MINE.

We were eating fancy! I would never put my gum under the tablecloth! It was seriously way up underneath, so whoever did it had to pull up three yards of fabric and shove it up under there, on the pad underneath. 

I said, "Sir, that's not mine."

He poked it and said, "FRESH."

I poked it. 

It was fresh. 

But you guys!!! It was NOT. MINE. I repeated myself. "Sir, I am telling you that gum is NOT MINE."

He was so disgusted with me and so finally I just shrugged my shoulders and walked away.

Does this look like somebody who just shoved GUM under her fancy tablecloth?

The story doesn't end here, unfortunately.

The next night, I was nervous to go back there, but I decided to get over myself and just do it. I sat down and out of the corner of my eye I noticed the man. Out of the corner of my other eye, I noticed one of my friends putting her gum on a little plate next to her dinner plate. I didn't have any time to warn her.

Here comes the waiter (not the same man, but he came straight from talking to the man). He handed her a paper napkin and said, "please put your gum in this paper napkin. And anyone else at this table *here he looked STRAIGHT AT ME* needs to put their gum in a paper napkin right now."

ENOUGH!

I threw my cloth napkin down on the table and half stood up to say to that poor innocent waiter, "OH FOR CRYING OUT LOUD!!! I DID NOT PUT MY GUM IN THE TABLECLOTH! YOU TELL THAT MAN I DIDN'T DO IT! AND WILL YOU PLEASE ALSO TELL HIM I AM 37 YEARS OLD!!!!!"

He looked really hurt and said, "yes, I will tell him". 

And then he came back later to take our order and I said, "I'll have the seared tuna. With extra gum."

And then the poor innocent waiter said, "please. I am on your side."

And then I really felt bad. 

But for Pete's sake, can you imagine being accused of a heinous crime? Twice? When you were 100% innocent of it? Now I know how Cameron Todd Willingham felt.

Sunday Favorites: Fanny

New to A Lady Reveals Nothing? You've missed SO MUCH. Not to worry. Every Sunday, I dig through the archives to repost an old favorite. Mostly because I'm too lazy to come up with new content every single day. Enjoy! This story originally appeared on August 20, 2014:

A good friend of mine was recently photographed and subsequently mocked for his choice in hands-free gear-carrying:

According to my source:

The Oscar winner, 44, laughed off his style choice with a big grin during an interview with CSN Houston's Julia Morales. He attended the game with his 6-year-old son Levi, and topped off his retro bag with a white T-shirt, khaki pants, a baseball cap and sunglasses.

"I'm not afraid of the fanny pack. You gotta kinda put it on the side to make it look a little not as nerdy, but still, practicality wins out," the Dallas Buyers Club actor said. "I got so much gear in here that I don't want in my pockets."

You know what, how many times have you been around someone and they're like, 'Aw, man, I forgot so and so and I gotta go back to my car.'" Pretending to take something out of his hip pouch, he added: "I got mine right here."

I couldn't agree more, Pal. That is SO TRUE.

And I do want to go on record and state that it was me who very probably single-free-handedly started this trend:

As snapped by the paparazzi, April 2011

And again, January 2014

Sunday Favorites: Elevators

New to A Lady Reveals Nothing? You've missed SO MUCH. Not to worry. Every Sunday, I dig through the archives to re-post an old favorite. Mostly because I'm too lazy to come up with new content every single day. Enjoy! This story originally appeared on May 1, 2014:

In my office tower, I have deduced that there must be some kind of old people eye doctor on the third floor. This makes for lots of awkward elevator conversations. (Remember when I worked in the same building as that hair restoration company?)

So how do I know about this old people eye clinic on third floor? My main clue is the droves of old people getting on the elevator and taking their sweet sweet time to locate and then push the number 3. The second clue is that when they go back down the elevator they always have an eye patch on. Anyway, remember I'm always late, so I can't tolerate this inability to locate the number 3 in a series of numbers from L-14. This drives me to near insanity. I've taken to just pushing it for them in most cases and then they look at me like, "are you some kind of a magician?" "how'd you know?" and then I'm like, "I'M IN MENSA." 

Yesterday a little old lady was on the elevator already when I ran for the door and barely made it on. She was staring at the numbers and so I pushed 10 for me and 3 for her. She looked at me SO CONFUSED and she said, "I couldn't see the numbers" (um...how the HECK did she DRIVE to my building then???) and so I said,

"Maybe you should tell that to the eye doctor."

Sunday Favorites: Dad

New to A Lady Reveals Nothing? You've missed SO MUCH. Not to worry. Every Sunday, I dig through the archives to re-post an old favorite. Mostly because I'm too lazy to come up with new content every single day. Enjoy! This story originally appeared on October 25, 2013:

Sometimes my dad calls me and counsels criticizes me, or whatever. It's not on purpose. Mostly he just disagrees with every decision I've ever made. (Can you blame him?) He just likes to continue to mold me, even now that I'm all growed up. I don't mind it at all, I tell you what, I'm just happy he calls. 

Anyway, the other day I told him, "It's OK dad. I already know you love me because you called. You don't have to say anything nice."

Oh how we laughed.

"You have to come now, or be one of them dummies. One of them city people. Look at your cement blocks. Look at your empty cans of beer. The money. And go clubbing. And don't worry about the Lady's Slippers. Why worry about it? Right?"

Sunday Favorites: Twitter Fail

New to A Lady Reveals Nothing? You've missed SO MUCH. Not to worry. Every Sunday, I dig through the archives to re-post an old favorite. Mostly because I'm too lazy to come up with new content every single day. Enjoy! This story originally appeared on March 26, 2014:



Here's another in a new series I like to call "Tweets I wrote that should have been retweeted a million times but weren't because I don't think I'm doing Twitter right and not because they weren't wildly hilarious".

Follow my tweets here. 

Sunday Favorites: Pure Poetry

New to A Lady Reveals Nothing? You've missed SO MUCH. Not to worry. Every Sunday, I dig through the archives to re-post an old favorite. Mostly because I'm too lazy to come up with new content every single day. Enjoy! This story originally appeared on August 6, 2013:

My brother sent me this text tonight -- a photo of a poem I wrote to him when I was younger:

If you can't read it, here's a transcript:

ODE TO PETE

My love for you Pete

stretches from here to Crete

it will outlast time

and unlike a mime

it proclaims loud and clear

that I hold you so dear

your picture I hold close to my heart

even though in the past in my face you would fart

hold me down on the floor

from your butt the juice would pour

I could not withstand

the force of your hands

holding me down

in your stench I would drown

the air would turn grey

but...I love you anyway

BONUS JOKE:

How do we know Jeffrey Dahmer was a careless smoker?

He left BUTTS behind the couch.*

*#1: The Jeffrey Dahmer reference dates this poem to approximately 1992, or me at 15. #2: I'm so sorry. That joke is terribly insensitive and I would slap my 15-year-old self up if I had a time machine. Who am I kidding? If I had a time machine I would slap my 15-year-old self up for perming my short hair:

My apologies to the victims' families.

Sunday Favorites: Treat Yo'Self

New to A Lady Reveals Nothing? You've missed SO MUCH. Not to worry. Every Sunday, I dig through the archives to re-post an old favorite. Mostly because I'm too lazy to come up with new content every single day. Enjoy! This story originally appeared when I was a man working in Arizona back on November 16, 2011:

We get a lot of looks.

Everybody stares at the water meter installers in the neighborhood. Some come up to ask what we're doing, but they all do a huge double-take when they realize we are women.

If we go into any kind of store we get lots of attention in these crazy getups.

I think it's just a little unexpected to see girls in any sort of stereotypical male job. It's been a very interesting social experiment actually. And of course it only makes me feel super tough and strong.  I like to do things like swing my pick ax or throw heavy things when people are watching.

Another thing I like to do when kids are getting on or off the school bus is to say, "Stay in school kids!" with a shrug of my shoulders, even though I KNOW they are thinking what a cool job I have.  And it is cool. Really cool. Part of what we have to do is collect a bunch of the metal pit lids from in front of people's homes and deliver them to have holes drilled in them. Then we bring them back with the holes. I think we would be drilling the holes except I broke two drill bits on one hole. (The holes hold the radios that we install and program.) Anyway, for this part of our job, one of us drives and the other one of us rides in the back of the SUV with the hatch open. Our code word is "hop pop" when we're ready for the driver to drive to the next one.  I use my pick ax to pry the lids up and this part of our job looks really cool, trust me. I always tell the kiddies that the holes are for putting quarters in.  (I'm hoping I can get a secondary source of income.) Today I got a little girl to dig an entire hole for me. It took forever but hey, I needed the break.

I digress.  The point of this post is to discuss gender disparity amongst manual labor workers.

Not really.  Anyway, I've discussed before how I always feel like a dude because I look like this at work:

And we work. We work ten to twelve hours a day. I never wear makeup and I never get dressed up. When I get home I shower and put on my new pajama sweater dress I bought at Old Navy for $5.97 and fall asleep in a chair in front of reruns of 30 Rock at 8:45pm:

And Summer takes photos.

Today we decided we needed to do treat ourselves...and got Pedicures next door to the FedEx office we frequent for paperwork shipments back to Minnesota. All the ladies at the shop stared and double-taked just as much as the neighbors when we're elbow-deep in their water meter pits.

We're pariahs. We don't fit in the man's world of basic plumbing and we don't fit in the woman's world of Asian pedicure shops.  

Oh Well and Oh Man it felt good to look feel like a woman for 45 minutes.

Treat Yo'self!

Sunday Favorites: Measuring Up

New to A Lady Reveals Nothing? You've missed SO MUCH. Not to worry. Every Sunday, I dig through the archives to re-post an old favorite. Mostly because I'm too lazy to come up with new content every single day. Enjoy! This story originally appeared on September 3, 2013:




So it's not like I'm obsessed about it, but I turned 36 this year. I was born in 1977. My niece Miyo has taken to calling me "Grandma" and "old lady" and when I protested, my mom pointed out that technically, I could be a Grandma. 

I always thought that at 36 I'd be all grown up. Except I frequently eat dinner over the kitchen sink and fall asleep in my clothes. My bedroom looks like the bedroom of a 16-year-old boy and I once found a chicken wing in my bed.

Today, I was feeling very curious about which celebrities are the same age as I am and how I stack up when making unfair comparisons to their lives. Here's what a simple Google search revealed:

Shakira, Singer. Born February 2, 1977. Married to that hot soccer player above and just had her first baby. Not a natural blonde, but it looks better on her than me. Fabulous poet-lyricist-singer. Amazing at belly dancing. Her hips do not lie.

Rob McElhenney, writer It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia. Rob was born April 14, 1977. He is married (to Kaitlin Olson who plays Dee on Sunny) and has a baby. He makes his living as a writer. Looks good, even when fat. Gets to work with Danny DeVito.

James Van Der Beek, aka Dawson, Dawson's Creek. James was born on March 8, 1977. He is married with two kids. He makes his living as an actor. He enjoys watching football and baseball.

Maggie Gyllenhaal, actor. She was born on November 16, 1977. Married to Peter Sarsgaard, two kids. Gorgeous. Has gotten paid to kiss The Dude. Nurses her children in public. (Google it.)

Orlando Bloom, actor. Born January 13, 1977. Likes to make millions by signing on to epic trilogies i.e. Pirates of the Caribbean and Lord of the Rings. Married to Victoria's Secret model Miranda Kerr. They have a baby. 

Robin Thicke, that guy Miley Cyrus twerked up on. Born March 10, 1977. Married. Baby. 

• Sarah Michelle Gellar, Buffy the Vampire Slayer. April 14, 1977. Married to Freddie Prinze Jr. Two kids.
• Jessica Chastain, Zero Dark Thirty, The Help. March 24, 1977. 2013 Oscar nominee. In a long term relationship. Named "Sexiest Actress Alive" by Glamour magazine.
• Liv Tyler, actor. July 1, 1977. Very famous dad. Has a son called Milo.
• Zachary Quinto, actor. June 2, 1977. Single. Hot. Gay. The new Spock.  
• Colin Hanks, actor. Son of Tom Hanks. November 24, 1977. Married. Two kids.
• Kerry Washington, actor. January 31, 1977. Married to a San Francisco 49'er.

The list goes on and on. Need I even mention Saved by the Bell's Dustin Diamond, aka Screech?

So far, the only ones I seem to be winning over are Brittany Murphy who is dead, and Edward Furlong who I thought was dead, but was arrested as recently as January 2013 for beating his wife. (However he does have a baby.) 

---

Meanwhile I get angry when my greasy hair can't make it one more day without a shampooing and I get a real sense of accomplishment when I finish a full season of some TV show all in one day.


SO: Which celebrities are from your birth year, and how do you measure up?

Sunday Favorites: Whoever Said It's the Journey, Not the Destination Had it Only Partly Right

New to A Lady Reveals Nothing? You've missed SO MUCH. Not to worry. Every Sunday, I dig through the archives to re-post an old favorite. Mostly because I'm too lazy to come up with new content every single day. Enjoy! This story originally appeared on November 25, 2014:

If you want to get to the other side of the world, here is a little warning: It takes a long time. You will sleep for an hour at a stretch on the plane in a strange contortion of your body that is anything but comfortable. You will brush your teeth in the airport bathroom, and then wash out your armpits in the same sink. Your underwear will be very dirty and you will opt not to change them because the next pair are going to get just as dirty anyways. You will stand in one million lines behind one million idiots. The plane will shake and rumble and you will not grab Carol from Winona or Matthew from Melbourne or the husband of the lady from France's hand but you will want to, and you will give yourself permission to at the last minute when things get serious. You will put your passport back in your purse even though somebody will need to see it again in 30 seconds. You will ride a train all the way to gate D and then find out your plane leaves from gate B. You will make friends on that train with John and Tricia from Nashville, en route to Italy to stay for the 9th time with friends they made just by eating at their restaurant. You will make such good friends with them, in fact, that after the six minute train ride, you will hug them and he will kiss your cheek and they will wish you luck and tell you to be safe and you will say have fun! and you will wish you could see them again but you can't. You will ask the flight attendants to please let you go up and down the spiral staircase because you've never been on a double-decker airplane before and they will let you and then you remember that you totally have been on one, you think, with your sister Kim, but you can't be sure. Maybe you're just thinking of Snakes on a Plane. Some lady will cut the customs line in front of you and your eyebrows will raise because WHATS THE HURRY and then her husband will see your eyebrows raise and you will feel bad because WHATS THE BIG DEAL and then you will wave your hand GO AHEAD and then you will both laugh. You will put a sticker on the bandanna you brought to wipe sweat and catch sneezes but mainly to act as an eye mask on the plane and it will say "please wake me up for meal service". You will help Carol from Winona with her seatbelt, her headphones, her TV, the bathroom, and her Immigration card. You will choose the salmon bisque but only actually eat the mashed potatoes because you are a fake vegetarian but really you're just not hungry because WHAT TIME IS IT? You will watch Lucy, Edge of Tomorrow, and Boyhood and several episodes of 30 Rock and you will get mad when the captain interrupts any one of them to tell you something important in another language. You will decide that fine, you will watch Guardians of the Galaxy, but only because other people are watching it around you and WHATS THE DEAL WITH THE RACCOON but you will be too tired and you will fall asleep instead. You will read a half-chapter of your book at a time and then fall asleep and then put it down and not remember anything you read. Matthew from Melbourne will tell you about his severe nut allergy and how on the way to London he had to ride the plane connected to an oxygen tank for four hours and you'll feel bad that you made fun of his gluten free sandwich. "It's all they had for me", he'll say, and you'll selfishly take the two free seats between you but unselfishly put your head next to him and your butt far away because you're feeling gassy. You will ask strangers to watch your things while you go to the bathroom and you will hope for the best. You will be seen in this getup because you're going to Africa but the airplane is freezing, and you won't even be the slightest bit ashamed:

Your body will say, "wait a minute, where are we?!?" and refuse to poop after teasing you with feelings of having to poop. You will hold your head high because you are a seasoned traveler who carried on and it takes only seconds to get your shoes off and your liquids out and your suitcase up on the X-ray machine belt and this being in airports feels SO GOOD because you're GOING SOMEWHERE and you will laugh at yourself and your ego and dip your head a little because it was probably holding itself up too high. You will make jokes with every. single. person. you encounter but less than 6% of them will laugh or even get it but who cares, you're GOING SOMEWHERE! You will wish you had the courage to ask the men in Dubai who wear those beautiful white robe-dresses to the floor with beautiful checkered scarves on their heads for a picture but you don't because they're a culture, not a tourist attraction plus you're worried because you have ignorant prejudices about their opinions of women but later you wish you had gotten that photo anyways.

You will patiently wait until everybody gets their bags from the overhead compartments but HURRY UP ALREADY JEEZ and then finally you will get off the very last plane and you will want to kiss the ground but you don't because EW and then you will see this...:

...and you will cry a little because it's so good to be here and you're sleep-deprived and then you will arrogantly walk right by all of the people trying to get you to rent a car because you thought ahead and reserved one and the steering wheel will be on the right and the stick shift on the left and you will grind the gears in front of the man and you will hit the windshield wipers instead of the blinkers but who cares because YOU'RE HERE.

Sunday Favorites: My 15 Hours in Kenya

New to A Lady Reveals Nothing? You've missed SO MUCH. Not to worry. Every Sunday, I dig through the archives to re-post an old favorite. Mostly because I'm too lazy to come up with new content every single day. Enjoy! This story originally appeared on December 30, 2014:



On the way from Seychelles to Mozambique, I had an overnight layover in Nairobi, Kenya. I wasn't sure if I was going to be able to leave the airport because of visa requirements. Sarah's friend from Nairobi was traveling and so she couldn't host me, and so I sent out a couchsurfing request just in case. The woman who responded told me that I could just pay $25 for a "transit visa" and leave the airport no problem.

However, she couldn't host me either because although she lived close to the airport, traffic is so bad that it would have taken me two hours to get to her place and two hours to get back to the airport and there goes my good nights' sleep. 

SO -- I had no plan except plan B: Sleep in the airport. I have done this. It is no fun. 

On the little bus that takes you from the airplane to the airport I met Jackie, the nicest person in the whole world. She told me that I absolutely had to get to the game park and then physically walked me through customs, (VIP line - she's a diplomat), and then waited for me to go to the bathroom which included brushing my teeth and washing my face, brought me out of the airport, arranged for a taxi service to take me to the game park, then to a famous restaurant called "Carnivore" (think Fogo de Chao) and then back to a hotel near the airport and THEN in the morning from the hotel to the airport. I keep forgetting to email her a thank you note. This reminds me I GOTTA DO THAT.

Everything went pretty swell, except traffic IS really bad and so we got to the game park 10 minutes too late and they wouldn't let me in, no matter how hard I told them that I was from Minnesota and we don't have elephants there and I only had one night and all I got was a mean mean lady saying "it is impossible."

So my poor driver just took me to an animal orphanage instead, and that was really really fun because there were lots of cute kids there and we played and played.

And my driver taught me how to speak Swahili...the important parts anyways:

Jambo - hello

Mishkuru kutana nawewe - nice to meet you

Asante - thank you

Tuko salama - we are ok

Kwaheri - goodbye

Tafhadali - excuse me

Sina pesa - I don't have any money

I am in this picture -- can you find me?

Check this out. The older boy was running back and forth and the lions were copying him! I about died at how cute and awesome it was and then his little brother and I got involved and the driver took a video. Pretty cool.

 KENYA!!!