In my peripheral, I saw that the culprit's loving smile was four inches from my precious face. And when I say "loving", I mean that not even my own mother has looked at me so adoringly before. Jaime saw it, too, and we shared our hibbie jibbies telepathically as only the closest couples can. She moved on, so our hibbie jibbies were then shared out loud in the giggly way of tweens with super crushes.
She must have heard us because she whipped back around and started speaking frantically in what I assume was Polish. Gross. I told her I didn't understand, so she switched to English, "Do not go to the cinema with that man!" I was offended that she thought I was low brow enough to see a movie on vacation. She continued, "He's a bad Italian!" Oh no she didn't!
We quickly moved away because even though it was Jaime she hated, I knew that it was my rabbit she would boil. To our backs she yelled, "He will killlllll yooouuu!"
That just about sums up how Polish people feel about Jaime.
Our apartment was a short distance from Stalin's Penis which served as our beacon home. His architectural marvel was erected in sharp contrast to the butt ugly communism style of most of the city that had been completely leveled during the war. Hey thanks for everything Joe!
It was towards the Penis that we whined our way to the station at 4 a.m. to catch a train to Krakow. It's cool. We said. We'll sleep on the train. We said. I had no idea that a job with the aim of designing trains built for long distances that are absolute garbage to sleep on existed, but it does! Kudos to that shitty train designer (job title). I did manage to sleep for a bit by putting my face between Jaime's legs, sloping my back across the 10 inch aisle with my butt in the air, knees bent in my seat and ankles crossed. The other five passengers sausaged into our cabin thought I was delightfully quirky I'm sure!
In Krakow, we stayed at a very cool hostel with very cool people. It was awful. My partner hates me, so he made me eat our leftovers in the garden where we could socialize. I was wearing my nightgown and glasses chewing on cold pierogies not caring that two German girls were hitting on Jaime when a French kid mentioned that he had been kicked out of our room due to my booking. I told him he could sleep in my bed because I planned to share (take most of) my seven foot tall boyfriend's twin bunk. That's when one of the German girls said, "Oh! Do you two know each other?" Oh no she didn't!
Though we usually travel well together, the next day we did have an argument about who (him or me) has been the greater victim of society while waiting in line to see Oskar Schindler's enamel factory. If there's one thing I want you to remember about us assholes after we're gone, it's that.
Well, maybe that and don't you dare accuse Jaime of cutting in line when he isn't standing in line properly because he can't bear to be next to his very articulate, reasonable and level headed girlfriend. You will get a giant index finger in your face and a curt, "I'm with HER. THANK. YOU." Look out!
We'd made up by the time we were waiting in another line to see the dragon's lair of a castle with all the families in the world with small children. A grandmother, mother and young boy were in front of us wearing smart windbreakers we hadn't thought to bring. Suddenly, there was a splash, and the little blonde boy's hair was all purple. Likewise, the mom and grandma were doused with what looked like Grimace's barf.
I now know how to say, "What the fuck was that?" in several different languages.
We looked up and saw the fat butt of a pigeon looking back at us with one eye. Oh no she didn't!
I have never and hopefully never will again see a bird shit that gigantic. I can't even tell you! Why didn't we take a photo!? I have so many regrets! A little bit got on my toe!
Selflessly, I handed over my moist towelettes that I never, ever have but just happened to have. I felt like the mom should have been a little more grateful to me as she wiped the poop from her son's head (it had already stained his scalp and windbreaker). However, I was just happy to be a part of it while not actually being in it.
Which is kind of how I feel about Poland in general.
It was towards the Penis that we whined our way to the station at 4 a.m. to catch a train to Krakow. It's cool. We said. We'll sleep on the train. We said. I had no idea that a job with the aim of designing trains built for long distances that are absolute garbage to sleep on existed, but it does! Kudos to that shitty train designer (job title). I did manage to sleep for a bit by putting my face between Jaime's legs, sloping my back across the 10 inch aisle with my butt in the air, knees bent in my seat and ankles crossed. The other five passengers sausaged into our cabin thought I was delightfully quirky I'm sure!
In Krakow, we stayed at a very cool hostel with very cool people. It was awful. My partner hates me, so he made me eat our leftovers in the garden where we could socialize. I was wearing my nightgown and glasses chewing on cold pierogies not caring that two German girls were hitting on Jaime when a French kid mentioned that he had been kicked out of our room due to my booking. I told him he could sleep in my bed because I planned to share (take most of) my seven foot tall boyfriend's twin bunk. That's when one of the German girls said, "Oh! Do you two know each other?" Oh no she didn't!
Though we usually travel well together, the next day we did have an argument about who (him or me) has been the greater victim of society while waiting in line to see Oskar Schindler's enamel factory. If there's one thing I want you to remember about us assholes after we're gone, it's that.
Well, maybe that and don't you dare accuse Jaime of cutting in line when he isn't standing in line properly because he can't bear to be next to his very articulate, reasonable and level headed girlfriend. You will get a giant index finger in your face and a curt, "I'm with HER. THANK. YOU." Look out!
We'd made up by the time we were waiting in another line to see the dragon's lair of a castle with all the families in the world with small children. A grandmother, mother and young boy were in front of us wearing smart windbreakers we hadn't thought to bring. Suddenly, there was a splash, and the little blonde boy's hair was all purple. Likewise, the mom and grandma were doused with what looked like Grimace's barf.
I now know how to say, "What the fuck was that?" in several different languages.
We looked up and saw the fat butt of a pigeon looking back at us with one eye. Oh no she didn't!
I have never and hopefully never will again see a bird shit that gigantic. I can't even tell you! Why didn't we take a photo!? I have so many regrets! A little bit got on my toe!
Selflessly, I handed over my moist towelettes that I never, ever have but just happened to have. I felt like the mom should have been a little more grateful to me as she wiped the poop from her son's head (it had already stained his scalp and windbreaker). However, I was just happy to be a part of it while not actually being in it.
Which is kind of how I feel about Poland in general.
Hahahahahahaha!
But can we have a serious second?
If my reflexes were fast enough, I would punch every pigeon that got near me right in the face. Seriously.
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