South Africa Blog

Check out www.soccerinsouthafrica.blogspot.com to read about my recent adventure to South Africa for the FIFA World Cup.

One Fine Day

Last week, during a period of apparent oxygen deprivation in my brain, I decided to lump a trip to the Social Security office and the DMV together. How odd that I would want to spend an afternoon banging my head against the wall. The worst part is I was totally taken off guard by the suckyness. I obliviously made these plans without a thought except ‘hooray! Two things to tick off my list.’

As I turned the corner through the automatic door into the SS office mob scene, I was overwhelmed by sheer shock, then understanding, then annoyance...in like a half second. I grabbed a number “A30” just as the intercom announced “Q6” and sat down just as one of the only two open windows (of the seven) shut. It was one of those metal garage door-like shutters so it made an awful noise as it came down. The guy in front of me chuckled. I did this squinty-eyed, frowny thing like when you’ve eaten something you wish you hadn’t.

So about 45 minutes into it, the guy next to me is snoring (I’m not kidding) and for every number that is called, there is an ecstatic person jumping up like they just won the lottery and then running over to the window as if there were an expiration on their time. It was bad, but really the security guard had it way worse. His job is to do everyday what we dread AND his number never...gets...called. I’m depressed for him.

Fast forward to the DMV and it’s more of the same: the most unlikely people to be in one place in one place. Since I had some time, I made some waiting room observations. Ready? People that don’t know each other don’t like to sit next to each other. It’s very deep. When I plopped down in the first open chair I saw I must have upset the delicate balance of people space because the woman next to me got up and moved over a seat. You’re thinking there could be other excuses like “Well you not the most consistent showerer Diana” or “Sometimes your ‘neutral’ face looks like a ‘bitchy’ face” but I assure you these factors were not in play since there was a photo involved in my task for being there.

Next, everyone knows who is next. The system at this particular DMV had a yellow pad where you sign your name and they cross it off as you are called. No matter. You know who was there before you and who came in after. You can see it in people’s eyes with every name called and in the little whispers “I should be next” in the background. Americans are very good at queuing. We are obedient to the law of lines because if anyone disregards the structure, you will be mean-mugged and potentially ridiculed out loud. No one wants that shame.

Last, either people dress strange for errands to government offices or we as a public are not very refined. One huge (read: fat) man with flannel pants and a shirt that read, “Winners train, losers complain” provided almost enough distraction from the girl with the unspeakably dirty bunny slippers.

Four hours after leaving home I was on my way back with nothing but a stamped piece of paper saying that I applied for a replacement Social Security card. I would say that the afternoon was mostly a failure. No New Mexico license, no driving record, no hard Social Security card and this mediocre blog post. I hope it’s at least a little more enjoyable than waiting.

D. Riggs

Small thing: When I remember what I was going to say: “What was I going to say?...(...)Oh YEAH.”

My photo on Failblog.org

Well, the voting page.


more fail, owned and pwned pics and videos

Engrish Sightings

From a recent trip to Korea. For even more hilariousness, visit www.engrish.com.


The lesser known movement of the 20s.


Until the next one.


On the box that enclosed my birthday cake. I felt all these things and more whilst eating it.


So we didn't.


Frankness is the theme of Korea.


Copywriter Credit: Gollum


Why many people don't enjoy building models.


The other one is fine...


I thought this was really funny but I'm not sure why now. I guess I never associated Canada with delicious seafood.


They must have not seen the end of the movie.

The Peculiarities of Dogs I Know

I had a cat when I was young. His name was Prince Charles. He was given the name because my family thought it was very clever that my name is Diana, my sister’s Elizabeth and my cousin’s Mary…are you seeing the royal correlation here? So Charlie (not exactly a case for your sanity when you’re yelling out the door, “Prince Charles! Dinnertime! Prince Charles, come get your yummy food!” So casually it was Charlie), came into my life when my parents divorced. He was a fantastic companion, kind of scrappy like me. We played in the cornfield, climbed trees together and this is a bit odd, but he used to hang out between the shower curtain and liner as I cleaned up.

Thinking about Charlie now, I realize that somewhere along the line I jumped ship and went over to the “dog person” side. I guess I got tired of pretending like I didn’t want to pet a cat in order for it to want to be petted when that is ALL I WANT TO DO.

Don’t get me wrong I still love cats, in fact I think I want one for my next pet but I must say there is something about the unconditional, everlasting, somewhat stupid love that dogs give you. I was reflecting on the history of dogs I’ve known and I thought I would highlight some of the behaviors (mostly bizarre) that made me love them.

The Havanese
These crazy-ass dogs are small, hyper and will literally whore themselves out for attention. I’m not kidding, apparently their ancestry entertained sailors on Cuban (hence the name) boats by dancing for long periods of time on their hind legs. Now I don’t know if this is true and I’m not going to bother looking it up so you might be right to have that skeptical look on your face. Regardless, this dancing gene stuck because Gracie and Maggie (the dogs) could cut a rug. The first time I took them on a walk we were waiting at a stop light and when it prompted us to go, I turned around to find them walking in circles on their hind legs for three amused businessmen in serious suits. Todd once waited outside of a grocery store with them and girls were practically throwing themselves at “the guy with the dancing dogs.”



Frank and Haley
I lived with these two pugs in Boise. Frank is almost entirely deaf and blind yet he runs around like he’s a brand new puppy. Sure when you call his name he sticks out his neck, tilts his head, then begins a full-out sprint in the opposite direction of you, but Frank had character.

Haley was nuts. For some reason, she would not lie down when she wanted to sleep. She would just continue sitting, almost like a human because her front paws would just kind of hang on top of her belly. Her eyes would slowly close, blink and open, then slowly close…like watching hypnosis. Occasionally, her head would rapidly fall and she would suddenly wake and circle it back up. A few blinks of confusion and the process started all over again. Just like people on the plane or subway when they are trying to sleep upright.


Boxer
Boxer is a young German Shepard that is owned by Todd’s old roommate. Some how this dog managed to fail as both a fire and police dog. Not the brightest crayon in the box. He was afraid of everyone unless you stayed in his presence for like 48 hours, then he would only give you a glimmer of trust that was inevitably soiled by your two-hour absence. His desire to mount Kya was obnoxious, his mistrust was annoying and he barked entirely too much. Nevertheless, my heart melts when my eyes meet his shallow, blank stare. Given the opportunity to have Boxer as a pet, I would take it in an instant. I can’t really tell you why; I just love that ridiculous dog.


Kya
Kya is Todd’s dog and I suppose mine as well. She has had a decent amount of change in her life despite only being three years old. With Todd’s deployment, weekends up to Omaha and my random appearances every month, she may have felt a bit unsteady at times. But there was one thing that remained constant: her tennis balls. No matter what house she’s at or who is feeding her, those tennis balls are always there and as a result, she hoards them. They are like her precious little babies. Sometimes she’ll just stand over a pile and stare at them for long periods of time. Most of all, you’ll find her trying to fit them all in her mouth. Her record is four, but three is the standard. Even when we are playing fetch (which if you have or know a retriever, this could be played literally for the rest of your life if you so chose) she runs after the ball, picks it up in her mouth, trots back then NEVER GIVES IT TO YOU. It’s pretty maddening because I know she is crazy in love with the ball and doesn’t want to give it up, but on the other hand she desperately wants it to be thrown so she can retrieve it. Why doesn’t she see the correlation? She resembles a bit of a snob too as I’m trying to get the ball. I reach for it and she coyly turns her nose up and to the side. Arrrgh. I used to just say, “Hey okay, well I’m not throwing the ball then.” But that didn’t go over because she would just do this silly nudge thing with her nose where she wedges it under your arm then flings it in the air. So now I’ve developed a surefire technique that involves a light headlock and quick hands. This way we both are happy: I get the ball and with her three-second memory she instantly forgets that I had to dominate her to get it.


Watch her eyebrows; I have a ball that she's following with her eyes.

Dogs are such wonderful friends. They are always there for you. Like right now, Kya is about 8 ft. away just watching me. Waiting to hop up the instant I move and follow me to another room just to lie down again and wait. Is it unequivocal love or shear moronity? Is there really a difference?

Visit your local Humane Society!

Diana

Small thing: The delightful sticky notes that my co-worker puts on my paycheck. The latest one was a little stick figure flicking me off.

Hello New Mexico

Greetings from “The Land of Enchantment!” Not nearly as good a tagline as “Famous Potatoes” but I’ll take it.


Todd and I had our first New Mexican experience at “The Whole Enchilada Festival,” an annual weekend event that’s capped off by the creation of the world’s largest flat enchilada. We rode on the rickety Ferris wheel, ate giant gorditas, listen to mariachi music and of course, watch the spectacle of something like 100 lbs. of cheese, 75 gallons of chile sauce and 750 lbs. of fried tortilla bake under a reflective cloth held up by 6 kids. Tasty.

When we had our fill, we headed to the parking lot fairly satisfied with this “cultural” experience in our new town and then BLAM! We find Todd’s Ram and about 40 other vehicles blocked in on both sides by rows of what I can only assume are cars belonging to the most unintelligent people in town. Oddly, my first thought was “Oh crap, is this how it is here?” I even asked another stranded driver that question. I guess I wanted to make sure we didn’t leave functioning civilization by moving down here. That’s horrible.

So we took a whole lot of action but there was little to no RE-action meaning we pretty much had no choice but to wait it out. Luckily, we when got back to the truck a woman had just pulled in to “the unintelligent” row another car column over. There was a big gap between us and the other blocked-in car on that side so we asked her to pull out and after some really poor hand signal maneuvering by me, we were free!

Lifting the enormous tortilla from the giant press into a humongous vat of hot oil.

Layering on the chile sauce and cheese.

Stupido.

All in all, I like it here. Our house is very peaceful with a fantastic view of the Organ Mountains. The Mexican food is AMAZING and I can’t wait to explore the outdoors around the state. Yes, this is a plea for everyone to come visit. If you take a plane here, you have to fly into El Paso. Imagine, you could see two states on one vacation, how efficient and wonderful!

See you soon,

D.Riggs

Small thing: Boxed red wine.

Pura Vida

Todd, my friends Michelle and Bryan from Chicago and I took a trip to Costa Rica over the 4th of July holiday. We visited San Jose, Santa Teresa/Mal Pais and the following is the story of a drive Todd and I took to the town of La Fortuna, which sits next to the beautiful Arenal Volcano.

After dropping off Michelle and Bryan at the local “airport” (this place made a Greyhound bus stop look legitimate), Todd and I trekked our curiously indestructible Rav-4 rental toward the Gulf of Nicoya to catch a ferry from Paquera to Punterenas, the first leg of our journey. We were running late because a couple of incidents (unintentional 2-hour breakfast and burying the car in the bottomless pit of mud called a driveway) had set us back over two hours. Luckily we were in Costa Rica, LAND OF NO RULES, so Todd had no problem speeding past the guy who was already going 30 km over the speed limit (or what I like to call “speed suggestion”) because we were simultaneously being passed by another car. We ended up getting there with time to spare; it turns out that similar to Costa Rican laws, Costa Rican time is rarely enforced. Finally on the ferry a casual 30 minutes or so after its scheduled departure, we relaxed and indulged in a random assortment of fairground-type food, one of which revealed its innards and freaked out Todd enough for him to stop eating it.

The ride was an hour and a half of smooth sailing. When we got to the other side, Todd drove the car off the boat, I hopped in and we were off toward the north central valley. Well, until we weren’t. Just as we got out of the ferry town, we came to a standstill. And when I say standstill I mean Tetris, but with cars. What the hell were people thinking? We were obviously not moving yet drivers just kept coming around us as if there was some place to go. Instead, the small two-lane road just bloated with cars like a dam on a river. I was worried that the road was impassable and started trying to figure different routes on the eleventy-billion maps I had, but then I looked around at everyone in the other cars and they seemed utterly not surprised. Nothing on their faces said, “Crap, what’s going on? I’m worried.” In fact, no ones face in Costa Rica had that look ever. So we attempted to adopt the same aloof yet serene expression (Todd did well at this) and shortly after, cars started moving. Amazing.

The rest of the drive was nearly a constant climb in elevation; it was gorgeous. We past through thick rainforest, small towns with roadside stands and fields of what looked like tropical corn, marijuana and maybe coffee cherries. After 5 hours of hearing me imitate the car in a sad cartoon voice that said, “Shift me, shiiiiiiift me please!” (drive one Camaro in your life and you think you know all about manual transmission), we made it to our hotel that sat perched on a hill across from the volcano. We successfully road tripped in a country that doesn't have addresses and the road atlas looks more like a map of human veins than a navigation device. Hip hip!

We spent a couple days exploring the fantastic area of La Fortuna and Arenal then had to head back to San Jose to catch an early morning flight. I became a little weary on the drive as I thought the rug might be pulled out from our magical car ride when we show up at Budget driving something that once looked like a car. However, after reviewing the copy of our rental paper and seeing that on the car illustrations where employees are suppose to mark existing scratches, etc. the man back in Santa Teresa had just scribble over every inch of the car at every angle. So this other man at the San Jose Budget looked at the papers, looked at the car, looked under the car, looked at the papers, looked around the car then looked at us and said, "Okay." "Okay" the universal word for "we don't speak each others language so I am just going to fill the silence even though I don't necessarily mean 'okay.'" They even charged us less than we were expecting. "Thank you for driving our car through rivers. Here is a discount." This was the complete opposite of what I experienced renting a car in France. "Oh mon dieu, look at deez scratch. You pay 800 Euro."

Overall, the trip was incredible. Like I'm ready to move there. But did you hear? I'm moving to New Mexico. Another year and another town eats my dust.

D.Riggs

Small thing: I love when a dog sits when you tell it to sit. I feel so powerful.


After our flight from San Jose to Tambor.


Todd standing outside our bungalow in Santa Teresa.


Walking down the beach at sunset.


The view from our hotel looking at Arenal Volcano.


Plantains!


I wanna go fast.


25,000 for gas! Just kidding, just kidding. It was in colones. I really had you going there.


Harvesting tropical corn.


On the drive. The trees are blurred because we are going 500 mph.