Friday, September 30, 2011


The biggest pain in my ass this year has been filing my income taxes. "But it's September!" You may be thinking, and you would be right! It is indeed September, and my fucking taxes have yet to be processed and the money has yet to be delivered to my sad excuse for a bank account. With the useless assistance of TurboTax I have been battling from abroad and hating every minute of it. As I'm typing this Cher's "Believe" has just come on randomly on my iTunes and I have instantly become angrier. Why the FUCK do I even HAVE this song??

State Taxes -
These were mailed in back in January and were, of course, lost in the mail. I picture my little envelope sitting on a ship bound for the South Pacific, ready to soak up some sun and enjoy paradise. Yes, the envelope itself is out to get me and has chosen a different destination rather than the sad and angry building in Baltimore where passive aggressiveness and resentment is a requirement if you want to work there. I can't say I blame the little fucker. However, here I am without the pathetic $300 or so that I've been promised. But don't worry, I can still get it. I called and got it all spelled out for me. All I have to do is do backflips through 495 during rush hour and then hitch a ride with a trucker named Gil, his name has to be Gil or it won't count. Gil must then drop me off at the airport where I fly to Arabia (that's not even a real destination!) to retrieve a magic lamp which I must then rub. A genie will appear with my lost W2 forms and then all I have to do is figure out how to fly back (because the genie won't grant me any wishes not involving taxes). Then once I'm back I just have to put them in the mail again and pray they don't make their way to the South Pacific AGAIN, cause then I'd have to start all over.

Federal Taxes** -
They've been rejected through TurboTax at least 9 times since I've gone through to readjust them and make the necessary changes they asked me to do. Ages ago I called TurboTax who told me I had to call the IRS who then told me I had to call TurboTax who then told me I had to call the IRS. Efficiency doesn't even begin to describe this process. And all for $700!! I was talking to a Brazilian friend of mine recently who was living in the states for about 4 years on a work visa who said he hired an accountant to take care of his taxes for him. "To my surprise I ended up receiving about $7,000! Hiring an accountant was the best thing I did." As he was saying this I smiled a sad, miserable smile of death and hoped that the anger I had in my head would be enough to voodoo curse him somehow. "Imagine that!" I said to him. If I hired an accountant for my MEASLY $700 I would probably end up owing the accountant my first born son and my best goat and I don't EVEN OWN ANY GOATS.


*PLEASE forgive this terrible, angry post, you've caught me right after speaking with Dee on the phone from the MD tax office. I think I'll just steal away to the Andes and live off the land for a while. That sounds easier than all this bullshit.

**Update - My federal taxes have been accepted and will be direct deposited sometime this month. This is thanks to a wonderful and patient woman at TurboTax by the name of Alison who must've seen that at some point yesterday, before I spoke with her, I had placed "fuck you" in the comments section where it asked me to rate their service.

Tuesday, September 27, 2011

some generalizations

Let me be clear that I love this place and the people that live here. To be honest I fucking love it here. A lot of my days are spent trying to cook up ways to maybe come back one day after I leave. I walk down the street happy as a fart in a windstorm, (or trapped in a closet, whichever makes the most sense to you). I ride the bus with the exterior of an experienced city girl, but on the inside I'm grinning like an idiot at all the random things I see as the bus floors it through several consecutive red lights.

But happy stories aren't funny. I know what my blog audience of about 3 friends wants to read. Stories of silly shit happening and pissing me off. Luckily, there's never a dearth of silly, frustrating shit here. And to be honest, I'm never quite as happy as when I cynically curse something in my head. :) [healthy]

Another PSA before I continue. Argentines are a wonderful, wonderful people. I'm being serious as a heart attack here. I love them as I love all people in the world.

Now that I've attempted to cover my ass, let me give you a few generalizations I've made about the people here. Let's take a look into the mind of the Argentine (according to me) -

Q. Where is a good place to stop and stand inexplicably while walking down the street?
A. Right here, in front of this crowd of people behind me.

Q. When is it a good time to give your opinion on something?
A. Right now, and while we're talking about it, I don't think you're doing enough with your life.

Q. What do you do if you see a black person in public?
A. Stare at them openly to the point where both should be very uncomfortable, except that I'm not at all.
*It's worth noting that there is an extremely small number of black people here. It's like a game of Where's Waldo. I feel like I'm earning points in my head when I spot a black person somewhere here.

Q. As a man, when women are walking down the street, do you believe they want to hear how hot you think they are?
A. Yes.

Q. As a woman, what do you think of other women around you?
A. Bitches.

Q. As a man, how should you wear your hair?
A. In a manner so atrocious that it could eventually incite violence.

Q. As a woman, how should you wear your hair?
A. Crystal Gayle long.

Q. What is one of your favorite songs?
A. This song

Wednesday, September 14, 2011


For those who have been blessed with hair of silken perfection, good for you assholes. I don't know if it's the water or some ancient spell cast on me by gypsies but for the past few months my hair has been a hot, hot mess. Oily at the roots like I haven't washed it for days and dry at the ends like I should stop washing it for days. I've tried a lot of things to remedy this problem. Like 4 or 5 different shampoos for starters. I tried shampooing twice. I stopped using conditioner altogether.

I even tried an apple cider vinegar rinse. Which just ended up making me smell vinegar in my hair all the next day which of course made me paranoid. I walked down the street that day passing men and thinking, it is I, Seductrica, here to impair your good judgement with my stink. I'm silent but deadly. And just in case the fumes aren't enough to seal the deal, you can't tell, but under this big purple coat and beneath my pants I have unexplained pimples right above my ass that may just be a rash because I read somewhere that you can't get pimples in that area of your body.

Here's me giving almost no fucks about my hair smelling like vinegar.

But seriously, that day I made my students smell my head that day and they said it was fine. Sure, they could've been lying. But most of them probably wouldn't miss an opportunity to insult me. Today I had my hair pulled back with one of those headbands to hold it slickly in place. One of my students asked me if I was going to play tennis today. At first I didn't really catch his drift until he said, "because your hair looks like that."

I looked at him like this:

A look sprinkled with just the right amount of self-disappointment, slight indifference and acknowledgement of fact.

No, really I love this student, honestly. But HONESTLY I could use a little less honesty sometimes from the people here. FINE, people, I already know I'm not really feminine enough for this country. My hair is short, my posture is bad, my clothes are different from other women's clothes here, I regularly have a Bea Arthur look on my face when I'm walking on the street. You could give Elijah Wood some girl's dress pants and a stack of English books and send him to my classes and my students wouldn't know the difference between us. "His chest looks a little more full," they'd probably say, pointing to Elijah.

At least I don't have head lice anymore, right? Yep, I had head lice. Yes, adults can get head lice, too. I still have my shampoo just to be on the safe side, though.

I hope I get the chance to meet the person who came up with the name for this shampoo. Maybe some of that genius will rub off on me. Much like the lice from the hair of some douche bag rubbed off onto my hair somehow a few months ago.

Hair. The End.

Monday, September 12, 2011

favorite student quotes

I love my job.

Student - "I love Steven Seagal."

Student - " Arnold Schwarzenegger, the governator in California." I thought this was a clever joke made by one of my students until I realized the translation for "governor" in Spanish is "gobernador." This was only a mistake, he wasn't trying to be funny at all. I bet he was wondering why I was laughing at him.

Student - "I won't date a man with back hair or a man with silly underwear. He might shave his back but it will still grow back and he might say that he got rid of all the underwear but he probably has some hidden somewhere still."

*answer on a test to the question "What happens when a person becomes a teenager?" -
"When start to discover himself and get curious and pimples."

Student - "I'm 70% sure we're all going to die next year so we should do what we want."

*while handing a student a test he had to take for class* Student - "You look very nice today teacher." Me - "No I don't, here's your test."

Student - "What is the coocoo clan?" Me - "Do you mean the Ku Klux Klan?" Student - "Yes."

Tuesday, September 6, 2011

sometimes i think dogs are out to get me here

Don't get me wrong, I like dogs a lot. I think I've grown to love them even more since I've been here. Every day I pass dog walkers pushing along at least 9 dogs of every size and breed together, moving like a school of fish and I think "aaaaaaawwwwwww!!!!!"

But I also think some dogs here are out to get me. They're sneaky because they know how much I love cats and how much the world loves dogs and they use this against me. They make me look like the crazy one for not joining in. Everyone's a dog lover here, this is abundantly clear. The dogs walk around with little coats and Messi jerseys in the cold weather, they're sometimes even carried around everywhere if they're small enough. There's also a dog park around every corner filled with groomed and very well trained pups.

I hope this city does not forget that it is the dogs that leave the shit on the sidewalks, at least 4 piles per block, (at least I THINK it's dog shit, I'm not good at identifying hobo shit, so it could also be that).

Also, there are enough yippie dogs here to start a small and annoying army. I sat and listened to one bark his or her high-pitched bark somewhere in the building I live in for at least an hour and a half and I thought WHY DO PEOPLE OWN THESE FUCKERS? BARK BARK BARK BARK YIP YIP YIP YIP YIP!!!!!

Another dog tried to trip me on my way across the street the other day. It's scary enough trying to cross the street here with crazed and impatient taxi drivers waiting for the opportunity to try to use a human like a speed bump. And then a dog on a leash darts right under my feet and once I recover I look at the owner who does nothing but smile an I'm-sorry-about-that-but-I-can't-yell-at-this-adorable-little-thing-can-you?? Pure evil.

Cats are cute. I promise. They're not evil, they're sweet too. And they don't try to kill you in the streets! And they only meow like crazy if they're in heat and why would anyone have a cat in heat? Maybe I'm starting to realize why people hate cats, they probably always had "heat" cats, horny females wookin per nub. Speaking of heat, to prove how sweet cats are, I took a video* of the 2 formerly pregnant cats I live with and their litter of kittens. Cats 1 Dogs 0.

*I've been told this video is long, so if you don't have 2 minutes and 20 seconds to spare and you don't want to hear me speaking Cat Lady, don't bother

Thursday, September 1, 2011

ice cream, anyone?

This ad for Frigor ice cream is all over the city.

I see nothing abnormal or inappropriate with this at all.

This is just a woman trying to enjoy her ice cream in the most sexually suggestive way possible. We all eat our ice cream like this sometimes. Sometimes I like to do the splits wearing only underwear and stiletto heels and then I eat my ice cream cone by making it look like I'm giving it a BJ. See? Normal.