Oldies but Goodies #2

October 9, 2010

Remember: Always Practice Safe Sex.

Nothing says ‘sexy’ like sandstone tunnels.

Filming with Melody in Trout Brook.

Posing Mad Style in the KYT Drain!


They hid the bodies in the cellar!

Sandstone! Poop! Tunnels! Caves! What better way to spend university break in the middle of winter? Exactly.

It didn’t happen unless there is a group shot.

KD Station!

The Great Gatsby.

Sheiks: Scum above and below.

Drop Shaft, Amph Drain, when Siolo invaded Mpls.

Oldies but goodies #1

October 5, 2010

Last night in Detroit, Dead Prez Drain. RIP Dev.

Drum Peeing While High.

Beer Command!

Slim Jimmah in for the kill. Mooo. Detroit somwhere.

Ds makes his MN debut…

Freak! DRAIN!!


Summer Drain (Amph or Temple of Drowned Cats?)

The days leading up to a holiday are always drawn out:  electricity is out, flat is frozen, which hasn’t diminished the smell of rat piss and insta-concrete newly splashed into the holes in my floor, opening my kitchen door to the yard I nearly fall into a fresh pile of chicken squirt artfully arranged on my stoop, I hate chickens, they eat the rubbish spilling from the sad metal trash bin, which no one is skilled enough to actually aim trash into, too bad the cross eye cat doesn’t live near by, I contemplate the ramifications of cat napping a cross eyed cat and letting him lose on my rats, the cat being the only thing I will ever miss from what I have decided to call the ‘H0H0House’ due to my sterling, yet fictional reputation and skill (again false) to be in 2 regions at once, do actual ‘LadiesOfTheNight’ get this much crap(?), likely not, as they provide a ‘valuable service’ (according to collective thought)  to the ignorant and repressed, even the taxi drivers provide a valuable service, without them , I’d have nothing to cuss at, nothing to blame for bad days and the fact that I’ve been standing, looking out on a field of trash, feral animals, concrete blocks, car skeletons and a lone cow for over 15 min, in danger of contracting some hideous disease from the chicken shit due to being barefoot since the laundry I washed 4 days ago refuses to dry, and who can blame it, I have no heat, and being a girl lack the wrist strength to effectively ring out wool, in the next 15 min my lower half goes numb from the rotting wind and I’m still staring, my mind wandering to the cash one could have by inventing: (1.) quick dry wool socks, (2.) vodka that didn’t make you vomit, (3.) rat poison that disposed of and killed the rat, and (4.) taxi drivers with all their teeth; the black puppy that has chosen my stairwell as home starts crying, running, and barking, the neighbors, cry, slam and run overhead in response, I haven’t met them yet, have tried not to meet them, have imposed a barrier of a bent head, a low hat, a loud ipod to prevent an introduction, there is no need, 6 times before I have been nice, made cake, drank tea, looked at pictures, taken pictures, smiled and listened, 6 times before I have been vilified, trashed, laughed at, wrongfully accused, gossiped about; have been retold, invented and created into a person that not even closely resembles me, even if all adrenalin seeking antics from my pre AZ life are accounted for, there is no need for me to be nice anymore, perhaps its bitter, perhaps I’m burnt out, perhaps I’ve learned, three cups of tea be dammed, I cannot be perma-nice, though, given the current dressing trends, it is possible to be perma-stuck-in-a-bad-80’s-fashion-vortex, I might even like chickens if they had blue spiky hair, it would at least brighten up the view, little blue blobs running everywhere, my toes are now blue, and the sky gray (how cliché) its too depressing to sand here anymore, its only 1 week ‘till its all faded a bit and I’m home and home for a month of the easy, predictable…clean…warm…

So there I was mid tinkle and groggy when the door rattled and suddenly Mr. Burns (now the size of a fat kitten on steroids) ran between my bent legs and dangerously close to my exposed/bare naughty bits hovering above the trough. Being half asleep it took approximately 1.5 seconds for realization/panic to set in and then, (quite shamed to admit), I screamed/yelled/jumped as directionally challenged Mr. Burns scampered in circles (and across my foot 3 times) attempting to exit the 2ft./2ft squat (which is small enough to begin with and certainly not enough room for me and an over grown rat with sharp teeth and a host of disgusting diseases) the same way he entered, unable to execute the maneuver (his fatness getting in the way), Mr. Burns bumped his head against the door, and was momentarily stunned, this provided the perfect opportunity for me to kick him (it seems like a good idea at the time) however the spastic flinging of my right foot only dislodged my sandal and caused Mr. Burns to ran back between my legs (PANIC!) and into the trough, where his fatness (only his head/shoulders made it into the hole) once again prevented him from escaping the evil white goddess (namely, me, who was now hopping on one foot because I wasn’t coordinated enough to place the sandal back on.) threatening him with incoherent yells (which human ears would have translated into: BLOODYF__KINGHELLRATPIECEOFSHITNASSTYNESSIMGOINGTOKILL YOUF__KRAT!!)  

In between yelling/hopping/kicking I managed to un-hinge the door, my pants still down (which made hopping/kicking all the more funny/difficult) and at that precise moment, my host sister looked out her window, (alerted no doubt by my yells) to see me standing, looking for all the world (I like to think) like a modern day Venus rising from the depths of the squat, my hair tossed about, my arms holding the door completely open, curse words issuing forth (I’m sure my host sister never thought I would utter, or even know how to utter such choice words), and my dreadful white skin glowing against the darkness/light.  Unfortunately this non-contextualized display of yelling and lack of trousers caused my host sister to assume I had been molested by a hideous monster from the depths of hell (which is pretty damm close to what actually happened considering the proximity of Mr. Burns to my day glow white battery) which promptly caused her to collapse on the bed in a state of pure fright/shock and crying. In the 10 second from when I yelled at Mr. Burns to when I flung the door open to announce  my surprise to the entire ISM hood, my host mom (bless her heart, who I have never seen act or do anything in a manner that can be considered swift) made it from a reclining position on the divan watching a Turkish soap, out the front door, down the steps, across the path and arrived at the squat with a stick, (ready to throw down) and a look that would have stopped a raging bull and made it whimper.  What my host mom lacks in tact (she still calls me fat and lazy) she makes up for in a staunch and never failing concern for my well being and safety; when it comes down to it, you don’t mess with a mad xanim who thinks someone/thing has messed with her American (no matter how fat lazy, silly or otherwise that American (me) might be.)   

Mr. Burns flew out the squat door, and I can say with confidence he was scared sh-tless.  Seeing as the situation was bit stressful, I of course forgot all my wretched Azeri skills, but caught myself before I muttered ‘pomidor’ with only the ‘pom’ sound escaping from my lips (that’s for Donny) giving me enough time to remember the words for “BIG RAT!!!!’ which I tried to say correctly to my host mom, in-between snorting (yes, snorting) with laughter, gesturing with my left hand and trying to adjust my clothing (so as to not further scandalize myself).  I’m not sure if at that moment I was able to convey that Mr. Burns was actually inside the squat (which would offer context to my display of skin/yelling) however, my host mom, once she was convinced of my safety (my hysterical laughter helped) actually laughed, rolled her eyes, and ‘tisked’ me (to say wordlessly: “What is this crazy, incompetent, American girl doing in my house?  We were almost convinced she was an adult and then a rat?  A rat?  Seriously, baby, much worse can happen.  And you look pretty damm funny!) 

Now that the worst was over, I proceeded into the house to begin the task of calming poor host sister down, who was woefully confused by the laughter (mine much louder) of her mom and I.  There was 10 min of talking in Azeri/English/Gesturing and drinking of water and things had calmed down.  Host mom went back to Turkish Soaps, host sister laid back down, and I slinked back to my room, very embarrassed and trying (unsuccessfully) to not laugh…30 min later in an attempt to stop giggling, I tried to think of sad things and suddenly realized that I had thoughtlessly gulped the glass of dirty water host mom handed me.  This unpleasant thought was sobering enough to put a lid on the laughter and make me realize that I would quite likely be taking more than a few trips back to the squat the next day, and could in a few hours time be dreadfully sick with a water bourn disease.  And then, I just laughed even more, which means I slept very little and woke up today with a tummy ache and found a stalwart sick to be my companion, because I’m under the false illusion that a stick could possibly be a good weapon against a ROUS.

Jellied Wasps

I had noticed several dark chunks floating around in the amber colored sugary delight, but assumed they were cloves. And then it happened, a crunchy bit, a bitter taste…and the horror of realizing the dark bits were not cloves but Wasps!!(Or possibly some other flying Azeri insect of doom) I gagged and ran to the trash, but my stupid body (again) wouldn’t puke on command (at this point, 7 months in, I’m convinced my body is waging war against me and would like nothing better then to make me miserable for the next 2 years by refusing to vomit nasssty (that’s for Ds and Siolo) substances that accidentally go down) I was left standing helpless, with dreadful images of evil wasp legs clinging to the insides of my stomach. All of this wouldn’t be so bad, (considering my past tussle with worms) other than upon digging around in the mass of jellied figs on my plate, I discovered damm near an entire hive (complete with more wasps, larva, legs, and wings) floating in suspended animation on the plate. Unfortunately, I had told my host mom that I really liked the jelly (which I did, minus the flying insects) and the next morning she sat me down and commanded me to eat a plate of jelly. It was hard to not eat it when she was watching (I knew there were wasp body parts lurking that had cleverly disguised themselves as cloves) so I tried not to gage and only eat a pin size dollop which only drew attention to the fact that I wasn’t scoping massive quantities of jelly into my mouth with wild abandon, which then offended my host mom, and frustrated me because I don’t know how to say: “I cant eat wasps!!” So to avoid a repeat situation all together, I stopped eating breakfast (for 2 weeks) until the jelly was gone, because every time I’d see a dish of the jellied figs all I could think about was Wasp legs flossing my teeth!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Horney Chickens

The chickens are fascinating, really, the amount that they squawk, mate (almost as frequently as the ROUS’s), run about, squirt (on my shoes), and attack, leads me to believe they lead very busy, if not easy lives. Since my first initial accidental observation of the chickens mating, I have been privileged to witness on no less than 5 occasions, the naughty chickens horney shenanigans. I find this annoyingly hysterical and virtually impossible to avoid/ignore, since they literally wait until I’m looking out the window, or walking to work to start up a scene complete with blood curdling clucking, wing flapping and hopping. At some point in time I shall become scarred for life, but for now, it still sends me into peals of laughter. When considered, I’m sure that admitting that chickens mating is funny, not only discredits myself, but also speaks to some long buried awful sense of humor and paints me to have the maturity level of a 10 year old. I guess, I’m alight with that since I’m making it very public, and that on most occasions, if not laughing at the absurd Chicken Porn, I’d be crying in dismay at how strange my life is

December Retro

February 4, 2008


Was characterized by a general overall feeling of tiredness/depression/frustration/numbing stupidity/helplessness and tunnel vision.  And generally overall, many of those feelings could have been avoided or dealt with appropriately, but being me, I of course insisted on going about the ‘dealing with it process’ in the most awkward way, which generally overall meant that I found myself mad at/cursing out/grumbling about (in no particular order): the ATM(across from my house), my computer (which is the nicest computer in a 10 mile radius), my then boyfriend (who gave me a print for my wall)  my host family (who ‘allows’ me to run in the morning and calls me fat), my mobile (that has one ring tone of Turkish/reggie/pop/techno and 2 choices for volume: uber high/silent-neither one really works if you want to be woken up nicely, which I did since I was running in the morning), the chickens (who materialize out of air to harass me when I have to tinkle at 2 am), the rats (they make appearances in my yard to spite me and have figured out that’s more devious to let me fall asleep and THEN wake me up at 3am with a rat bowling match/dance party/row)and various inanimate objects such as; pens, chairs, light bulbs(FYI they have a life span of 3 days) cameras, my computer (again), rubbish heaps, and finally, I believe the phrase “Bloody damm nasty pain in the arse slushy f—king mud” was uttered over a dozen times and usually at a high volume in public places.

 Yes, that was childish behavior, and while it didn’t really do anything to make things tops, it did help expand my ability to cuss and in the process no animals or humans were hurt.  I did however, briefly contemplated setting the large Rat Trap that I received in a Christmas Box of Happiness from Katie/Dan/Brian.  But…upon further consideration I realized that due to the chicken’s earth shattering intelligence, my trap would be more likely to attract the foul than the rodent quadrupeds because the trap would be placed on the ground and everywhere the rats go, the chickens get there first, (if only I could get them to eat each other) and while I could care less about a few chickens kicking it before their scheduled butcher time, I’m not really enthused about tidying up mangled chicken bits.  Additionally, while I am ‘allowed’ to run in the morning, I am not ‘allowed’ to set the trap.  Yes, that logic hurts the gray mater in between my ears as well.

From MSN.com

January 17, 2008

Scientists in Uruguay find the fossil remains of a 2,000-pound rodent that lived 2 million to 4 million years ago – the largest rodent ever found.


maybe Mr. Burns was a long lost relative?


December 4, 2007

i declare victory over a rabid pack of 8 ROUS (rodents of unusual size)


Realized today that something is dreadfully wrong with me/life/AZ/sanitation now/sanitation then/ bricks/proper hygiene., when I have a weak tolerance for filthy squat toilets, and would rather walk through 18th Century Sewers with falls of nasty rubbish then actually clean my own squat.

A Bear

The lot of us were at a certain place chatting up certain people. There was a bear, in a cage, the floor covered in trash that people had thrown in. I tried not to look, but when I did, the bear was in a corner, biting his own arm and banging his head against the bars.


On accident I ate worms. I realized my dreadful mistake when I glanced down at the dish, after having a vague thought that the walnuts tasted funny, (but they were already half way down to my stomach, so what the hell) and saw one lone squirming survivor of my nasty feast. I panicked. The next 30 min were spent in tears, in my loo, desperately trying to puke. My body pathetically refused to comply. I’d like to announce that I’m in the market for a new digestive tract.

A Rat

My rat, Mr. Burns, finally made a daylight appearance. He is the size of a cat, but not cute and gave me a cheeky look before he scrambled into my bedroom wall. His favorite annoying habit is to crawl into the wall behind my bed, near my head and gnaw on pieces of rubbish. Strangely enough this causes my dreams to either start or end with a sound equivalent to nails on a chalk board.

Peace Corps Med Refills

 Included in my refill is anti-blemish cream that is lime green and smells like baby barf; the package is in Russian (which I cannot read) so I really have no idea what substance (or combination of substances) can be both green and smelly and supposedly make me lovely. Never scared, I dabbed a bit on my face and waited…nothing happened. I was truly hoping that green goop would, at the very least produce something noteworthy (alien life forms in my epidermis, loss of all thigh chub, supermodel legs, a perma-tan), alas it seems that tho its color and smell recommend it for greater things, it is simply anti-blemish cream. (As far as I know, in the states you don’t find hemorrhoid cream in neon orange, eh?)

Passport photos

I hate getting my picture taken. Even more annoying was picking up my passport photos today and seeing that there was a red string on the lenses; which means that I have a red string hanging strategically off my chin. This did not make me happy.


On the up side the gent (60+ with white hair and a nice set of gold grills) who runs the shop collects old camera parts (drool), loves photography, plays speed chess and nearly cried with joy when I talked with him about manual cameras. We ended our conversation with us both agreeing that digital cameras are bad (well more truthfully, I’m just jealous of the digital cams Mr.X, Ds, and Silker own; but I really don’t know how to say that in Azri) and that I need to visit again. This made me very happy.

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