There's a fine line between ambience and danger.

I just got to the spa where I get my nails done. They dim the lights for ambience but it's so friggin' dark in here that it takes a few minutes for my eyes to adjust.

The receptionist led me down a dark hallway. All I could see were the illuminated sconces. I followed closely so as not to run into any invisible walls. She stopped suddenly and invited me to take a seat.

I quickly scanned the room deep, dark void. I can't see any chairs, I thought.

"Go through that doorway," she encouraged me.

I don't effin' see a doorway! I didn't move or speak.

Finally, she pointed. Oh... I think I see an opening in the wall...

I successfully made it through the building without injury, but the point is turn up your damn lights. Thank you.

Complaint Department

I have three complaints for today.
1. Mother: You never reply to my emails. That's it, Ma. Your emails are going straight to my spam box from now on...until you reply to my last email with the video of the sneezing baby panda.

2. Most chain restaurants: When I ask for no bun on my burger, why do you take away my lettuce, tomato, pickles, and onions too?

3. NPR: I am so sick of your reports on the debt ceiling negotiations. (I crossed that out because everyone knows the government never negotiates anything.) Until August 2nd or until it's resolved, I don't care.

I'll balance out my complaints so as not to seem like a heartless jerk.
1. Salon: Thank you for rescheduling me with a different manicurist when I told you that I'm very picky about my French manicures. If I wanted a bad French, I'd do it myself.

2. World: I'm thankful that I have the luxury of being able to complain about such stupid things. There's a devastating famine in Somalia and here I am with a full belly and an upcoming nail appointment, complaining.

3. Flowers: Thank you for blooming in the small strip of woods between our condo and the golf course. I admire your beauty and perseverance every morning as I walk to my car. (Perseverance? Yes! Stay tuned for a blog entry about these flowers... Coming soon.)

Yeah... It's all for me.

I ordered food from the drive-thru and received two sets of utensils with my order, signifying that I ordered enough for two people.

Thank you for assuming I couldn't possibly eat this much food...but I can.

Everybody has nipples!

Tommy and I spent some time at our condo's clubhouse yesterday. It was sunny and hot: perfect for lounging in and around the outdoor pool. We had fun goofing off and horsing around in the cool water. (I cradled him baby-doll style in the pool. It makes me feel like I have super human strength.)

A mother and her young 3- or 4-year old daughter were playing on the steps leading into the pool. We passed them on the way out of the pool. As we walked by, the tiny girl looked at Tommy and said to her mom, "Look at that big man! Look at his nipples!!!"

I wasn't sure if I'd heard her correctly, so I confirmed it with Tommy once we were out of earshot. The mom replied to her daughter, "Everybody has nipples! But you don't talk about peoples' bodies. That's private."

I imagine the little girl thought to herself, "If it's private, why is he showing off with those shiny ornaments?!" Poor kids. They get such mixed messages.

It's a small world!

My dad is obsessed with soccer. He watches, plays, and used to coach soccer. He just gave me some interesting information about Ali Krieger, who plays for the United States women's national soccer team. Her name has been in the news after scoring the winning goal against Brazil this past Sunday.

Apparently, she's from Northern Virginia, where I grew up. My dad's best friend has two soccerphilic daughters who played against Ali when they were teenagers. Her father, John Krieger, used to coach soccer at a nearby high school. He and my dad competed when they played on opposing adult men's soccer teams.

Here's the most interesting thing my dad told me about Ali Krieger. "I punched her dad in the face once. He tackled me so I got up and I punched him."

My dad punched Ali Krieger's dad in the face. Small world!

Our mailman is psychic!

As I was leaving our condo, I happened to see the mailman. I knew I'd seen this guy a couple times before, but we'd never said more than "hello" to each other. The gorgeous spring weather contributed to my good mood, so I went way beyond the customary "hello" and asked, "How are you?" (Deep, I know.) We both agreed that we were in good condition. His next question, however, blew me away.

"How's...uh...Tom?"

What?! How does he know my boyfriend's fiance's name?! Yes, he delivers our mail, but our mailbox isn't by our condo. It's a communal mailbox on the other side of the road--just one tiny cubby among many other cubbies. Our condo faces the woods so there's no way he could've seen me walking from our door to the parking lot (thus seeing our address and mentally connecting our names to my face).

I'm dumbfounded. Our mailman must be psychic!

The man's definitely getting a Christmas card this year.

Princess, Paradise, and Proposal!

For two weeks this past April, I experienced non-stop princess treatment. First, Tommy and I went on a Princess cruise to Princess Cays, St. Maarten, St. Thomas, and Grand Turk. The ship was gorgeous, the food was decadent, the service was excellent, and the islands were stunning! Here are some pictures from our week in Paradise:

 

Professional Pictures: Part of the Princess Treatment (above)

Stunning St. Thomas

my new ass of a friend

a view of Magens Bay from a hilltop

Magens Bay beach

I'm stronger than I look.

Tommy's really strong.

On Wednesday, April 20th we docked in St. Maarten. The first thing I noticed once we stepped off the ship was a store called Diamonds International. (They have countless stores throughout the Caribbean.) I asked Tommy if we could go inside and look around. I figured I'd show him the type of engagement ring I like. This is something we'd done before. After looking at every single ring in the store--and trying on about a dozen--I finally found a ring a loved! That's when Tommy bought the ring. They sized the ring as he completed the paperwork. Meanwhile, a thousand thoughts were running through my mind. "What does this mean? Does this mean we're engaged? Because he didn't ask me... Is he going to pocket the ring, take it home, and propose a few months down the line? That'd be weird." Once they sized the ring, they brought it back out and handed it to Tommy. He looked into me eyes and asked me to marry him. Of course, I said yes!

Tommy excitedly told me that he had to tell his dad.

"He knew about this?!" I asked.

"No! I didn't even know," he revealed. We had a good laugh.

We were so excited to share the news with everyone, but we couldn't just pick up our cell phones and dial our families. (Not for the fortune we'd be charged every minute!) Instead, I took a picture of the gorgeous ring on my hand and sent the image to our parents.  My dad and Tommy's parents replied immediately. We could sense the elation through their text messaged replies!

My mom still hadn't replied by the time we went on our scheduled tour of the island. Before starting up the bus, he walked up and down the narrow aisle and announced in a charming accent, "I want you to know that you are in the presence of a movie star! I am RRRaphael!" He rolled the R in his name like a drum. He showed us around the gorgeous island and gave us a timely tip before dropping us off to enjoy some shopping in the French capital of Marigot. A store there allowed each visitor a free 2 minute phone call to the US!

I immediately called my mom's workplace to see if she'd received our picture message. I greeted the person who answered the phone and asked to speak to my mother. "Congratulations, Panthea! Your mom called us and told us the news! She picked up a cake and she's bringing it here to celebrate." Holy cow, good news spreads quickly! After confirming that our immediately family knew,  I posted the news on Facebook and got tons of happy responses. (Technology! How bizarre.)

I took at least a half dozen pictures of my bejeweled hand.
"Look how gorgeous it is with the mountains in the background!
Look at it with the ocean in the background!
Look how pretty it is with the beach in the background!"

For the rest of the trip, we went into every Diamonds International store we came across, just to make sure there was nothing I liked more. At our last port of call, Grand Turk, Tommy found a ring that he fell in love with. It had a massive center stone--not my taste at all! He must've made me try on that ring ten times. He tried everything to get me to like that ring. "Look how it sparkles in the sun," he said to me. The saleswomen didn't know what to do. "Sell her the ring!" he begged them. Nothing could've made me trade in my beautiful, petite ring for that mammoth monster of a stone. Tommy finally relented, but for the rest of the day he kept telling me how heartbroken he was that I didn't let him get that ring.

Our ship returned to Florida on Easter Sunday. We had planned to pick Tommy's grandmother up in Boca Raton and drive with her to Tommy's parents' home near Orlando. That morning, Tommy called Grandma to let her know we were back. He spoke to her for a few minutes. When he got off the phone, he said to me, "Everyone cares about you! Grandma said she couldn't wait to see you."

I half-jokingly told him to get used to it. "It's all downhill for you, baby!" The wedding is all about bride, I explained. People will buy me gifts and say they're for us. When we have children, it'll be all about Mommy and the baby. This idea was further reinforced once we arrived at his parents' house, where the princess treatment continued! Mom and his sister Lisa had decorated the entire house for us! The tables were decked with flowers and the walls were draped with banners congratulating us on our engagement. (Let's be honest, the flowers weren't for him...nor were the pink bunny decorations.) 

With just a few days' notice, they had even bought us me gifts! Mom and Lisa gave me beautiful Swarovski crystal figurines and a heart-shaped picture frame. (What do you think? Is it safe to conclude that these gifts were for me?)

After a beautiful vacation, we finally returned home to New York and quickly went back to our daily routine. My first day back to school was fun! As soon as I walked into class, friends and classmates started talking at once. "Panthea!" "There she is!" "She's here!" "Yay!" "Everyone's looking at your hand!" My 15 minutes seconds of fame were delightful.

It has been an incredible (and incredibly busy) few months! Tommy and I had a beautiful engagement party a few weeks ago. Our families and friends joined us. Two of my relatives from overseas even came to celebrate with us! My favorite cousin in the world, Assefeh, surprised me with a visit! She's like a sister to me so I was thrilled to see her. Tommy's dad gave a wonderful toast during dinner that still makes me tear up when I think about it. I'm a very lucky girl and I'm so thankful!

By the way, you may be interested in knowing the story behind how we fell in love. To make a long story short, let me just say that I knew from the beginning he was the one for me. You see, we both have only four toes on each foot.

So, my mom has this friend...

Disclaimer to all of my future employers and New York University, to which I intend to apply for graduate school: If you must read this, please consider my exquisite command of the English language and not the content of this story. Thank you.

One of my mom's friends just told me a hilarious, mortifying story! I have a headache from laughing so hard. Unfortunately, I cannot adequately capture the hilarity of this story with written words, so you'll have to use your brilliant imagination to supplement what I've written.

My mom's friend was at work and felt the sudden urge to use the restroom. (Maybe this friend had eaten one too many prunes or maybe her intestines were just feeling vengeful that day. Who knows?) She fought valiantly to contain her bowels as she hop-skipped to the restroom. Unfortunately, her heroic efforts were in vain. Yes, the unthinkable happened...inside her underwear...and down her legs. With new found determination, she quickened her step and at last made it to her safe haven, the restroom. She rushed into a stall, closed the door, and analyzed the situation. There was no hope for her panties; they were dead on arrival. She threw them in the garbage. Next, she assessed her pants. They would definitely survive, but they were in critical condition and in need of immediate treatment. She had to wash them.

Picture this: She had to leave the privacy of her stall without underwear, holding her pants in her hands. She spot-scrubbed her pants in the sink, praying no one would walk in, for her own sake and theirs. Afterward, she returned to the stall to don her wet pants. Before returning to the workplace, she put her jacket on to cover the circle of wetness on the back of her pants. She warded off people's questions. "I'm cold!" she lied. She periodically touched the back of her pants to monitor the drying process. A pharmacist caught her! "Why do you keep touching your butt?!" he asked her, laughing.

Thankfully, my mom's friend has a good sense of humor. She was able to laugh about this later.

By the way, the friend in this story is not me. If this had happened to me, I would absolutely tell you. You see, I have no shame.

"Don't quote me on the hippo."

Tonight, after living together for over 2 1/2 years, I learned something new about my boyfriend, Tommy. While we were driving home from dinner, I learned that he is fiercely anti-koala bears. His hatred is unfounded. Unless you've personally been mauled by a koala, how could you hate a creature this cute?

"Once I realized they were fucking drug addicts," Tommy explained, "I was totally anti-koala!" My boyfriend explained to me that koalas only eat eucalyptus leaves, which he stated are addictive. "If they don't have eucalyptus, they don't eat. Koalas are vicious because they're always in withdrawal."

I taken aback by the degree of disgust evident in his voice. "Wow. You're really passing judgment," I observed. I pulled out a pen and paper and started recording our conversation for this blog. "You hate koalas!"

"I do!" he replied, emphatically. "You hear people saying, 'Aww, I want a baby koala,' but they don't know koalas are vicious drug addicts!"

"Baby koalas are cute!" (Another keen observation on my part.)

"Anyway, koalas are fucking drug addicts. That's all. That's my point. That's why they have such a nasty disposition. Oh, you know what else?! The hippopotamus! It has the same koala issue." Tommy saw that I was fervently writing down what he had just said. He added, uncertainly, "Don't quote me on the hippo."

When we got home I decided to see whether this "koala issue" was even true. I have Google set to auto suggest; as I begin typing in a search, Google shows related suggestions based on other users' common searches. Here's an actual screen shot I took of the result:

Um... "koalas for sale" and "koalas chlamydia"? I'm not quite sure what to say.

Please and Thank You

Dear Self,

Please be asleep within a half hour. You have nine hours of class tomorrow.

Yours truly,
Self