Blizzards and Butt Munches

Well, there's a massive snow storm about to hit Massachusetts. As in, in about 45 minutes. The rich, important, overpaid and snooty employees have been allowed to go home early, so that their precious carcasses aren't trapped in their nice cars as they battle back to their homes.

I, on the other hand, have to stay here on the front desk and answer the phone until 4. With nobody to cover for me, even if I need to use the bathroom! Getting the feeling I'm slightly disgruntled? You're very astute.

A story:

One of the many couriers came in this morning, and noticed in our brief transaction that I am from somewhere else. We had this conversation...

"Where you from? Ireland?"
"Um, no actually. I'm from New Zealand."
"Ohhhh! Eh! Eh! Eh!"
"What?"
"I went to Canada once, for two weeks."
... (This is me, being completely nonplussed.)

To Quote The Locals...

I'm soooo excited!

Yesterday I bought my train ticket to Washington D.C., for Obama's inauguration weekend! Even if I don't get to see the actual ceremony (tickets are impossible to get at this stage) I'll be there on the ground and hopefully watching it on a big TV. And that's about as good as it gets for this little Kiwi.

From Culture to Smut in 6 Hours!

Sometimes, a day is going so well. You're out in sub-zero temperatures, admiring lovely buildings that you can barely see through your streaming eyes, attempting to take fetching photos with frozen fingers.



You snicker at hilarious T signs for destinations that are, shall we say, fanciful?



The company is superb, of course! Especially when it's willing to pose with a large tin of Milo while sitting on a turtle.



Where would the turtle be without the hare?



Can't remember who this guy is. Quincy? Adams? Washington? Boylston? Not important. It's me, Stef, and a large tin of Milo!



Ah yes, going so well. This was the more civilised part of our day. We were frozen so bloody solid that we decided to ditch the sights of Boston, and drink ourselves warm.

So we went back to my 'hood, and propped up the bar for a few hours. Met this hilarious guy who used to (according to him, anyway) be a professional hockey player and wrestler, who spent most of the time talking our ears off about his fabulous life.

It had its moments. I liked when he tried to get Stef to arm wrestle an old guy sitting at the other end of the bar, and when he went to great lengths to assure us that he's not gay. I'm not sure why this was in question, but there you go.

The day was rounded up nicely by the very drunk, possibly homeless man outside the Davis Square T station, who asked us if we would like to "make love". Now, doesn't that just warm your heart?

Meeting People

Usually, when I meet new people, it goes like this. They do that super-saccharine "Oh hi! Nice to meeeeet you!!!" thing that Americans do when they're being polite. Then I say something appropriate back. Then they get the Look. The one that says "She's not from around here...".

Questions ensue, and my ancestral roots are traced back to New Zealand, which invariably gets a response of "Oh! Nooo Zeeeland! I hear it's beautiful".

But yesterday, I met this guy at a temps office party who immediately informed everyone around us that New Zealanders may look prim and innocent (while he waved his hand in MY direction!) but they're actually hard-core party animals and can drink anybody you care to mention right under the table.

I felt peer pressure! I felt the burden of civic pride in our achievements, no matter how dubious! I felt that maybe it's the Americans' fault that we drink irresponsibly. If they're going to keep admiring us for it, how can we not play along? Before you know it, I was agreeing to meet up for a couple of bottles of wine to prove that I am, in fact, an Antipodean Booze Bitch.

Brilliance Abounds

Got stuck on the train for quite a while this evening, because the driver overshot Davis Square station, and we had to BACK UP. Lame.

Bostonians are not shy about sharing their disgust with bad service. It was quite the bitch session in my carriage!

ew

So, last night I was innocently dreaming in my little bed, snuggled up under my beautiful quilt, when something interrupted my slumber.

A fast and uncomfortable-sounding squeaking.

Yep, my loser bastard inconsiderate idiot upstairs neighbour, who consistently comes home around midnight to play some ridiculous base-pounding computer game that reverberates through my room, seems to have gotten laid.

It was all over in 2 minutes flat, and there were no discernible sounds of appreciation.

I hate sharing houses.

Thanksgiving

Spent the weekend up in Essex with C's family. These people.



It was kind of cold! This is everyone on one of the gut-reducing walks we went on. They're standing in front of a quarry lake. Very beautiful, but freaky as well.

A fun day, minus the killer wave that tried to snatch Caroline and her brother Dan!