All the Comforts of Home

Today was brilliant. In honor of Mother's Day, my too-cool-for-school son let me drag him downtown with nary a complaint, and we meandered all over Recoleta, first stopping for lunch at the Hard Rock Cafe (I was craving quesadilla with mango salsa, though it would prove to be slightly less than delicious), then sidewalk-cafe sitting timelessly engrossed in our respective books, then wandering into Farmacity, where to my delight I unearthed a plethora of items from home--all stuff I would normally lug back here in my check-in too. So yay, less future baggage for me, and that's always a good thing.

What I found:
- Olay Daily Facials disposable cloths
- Olay Total Effects 7x moisturizer (this baby's almost 20 bucks in the States but only 48 pesos [~16 US] here so go figure)
- Neutrogena T-Sal Therapeutic Shampoo
- Aquafresh White & Shine toothpaste
- Aleve (!), the 12-hour kind

I love the expat life, I really do, but I can't seem to let go of certain brand/product preferences, and hell, if it makes life just that much easier, wtf not? It's not like I'm eating babies for breakfast or anything...

And because I miss having a camera, I'm posting an old picture I took of a candy I love here, proving that I can indeed adapt (I hardly buy American candies as a factual matter, so applaud me). Ladies & gent, may I present the bemusingly, bilingually named Kinder Bueno--I mean, kid good? (speaking of eating babies for breakfast)--from the folks who brought you those cool toy eggs.


Two fingers of wafer shells filled with a fluffy hazelnut creme, veneered in just the right amount of chocolate. So, so sexy. So, so dangerously crack-like good.

There Are Some Sick Fuckers Out There

Perhaps it has to do with not getting laid enough, or maybe your mama was your childhood bully, but whatever the fuck turned you into a grade-A loser, loser--stay the fuck away from my teaching blog! These are 7-year-old kids you're exposing your filth to, you puling fuckwit. I strenuously loathe dregs like you.

Die already, asswipe.
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On a calmer note, I had quite possibly* the worst day at work since I moved here. Last night a parent emailed me frantically saying someone had been writing "not nice" comments on the classroom learning blog, "not nice" being the understatement of the year. Whoever this sick fuck was, he had the gall to use my kids' names and actually took the time to copy & paste their work turning it into adult material, then spamming the entire comment sections with it. I literally threw up in my mouth reading. It was one part chilling, two parts nauseating, three parts enraging, and fourteen parts maddeningly murderous-making (do the math).

* I said "quite possibly" because what helped to offset the abject misery of this experience was that today, I witnessed some musical concerts performed by a gazillion schoolkids. Now, I'm as jaded and cynical as they come, but by golly if the tear ducts don't runneth over as soon as I hear a room full of children harmonizing. I'm convinced it's just potent enough to cure cancer. So please double blind that, Mr. Medical Establishment!

Death & Curry

Tragically, my camera, the workhorsy Canon PowerShot A620, died a slow, quiet death this past week with no one in attendance. This demise couldn't come at a worse time, as I've been happily fêting all over town and unabled to half-assedly memorialize the deliciousness here. Ah well...

I'm still on a curry bender. Friday I met up with some friends at Bangalore, a British curry pub (if there's a better amalgam of 3 words in the English language, I can't think of any) in Palermo Hollywood, where we sampled the vegetarian thalis platter containing vegetable korma, pumpkin curry, butter mutter paneer, and warm pillowy naan.

Then Saturday, I went with a group of gals to Sudestada for their now-27-peso lunch set, still a steal considering the inflation, where--quelle surprise--I had the Thai vegetable curry.

Then this morning I awoke with Indonesian food on the brain for a mysterious reason, so I ambled on over to the kitchen to concoct a variation of beef rendang. It didn't come out too shabby, considering, and even better, the boy loved it. (A big thanks to my mom who left behind some lemon grass paste from her visit.)

So let's see...that's curry of the Indian, Thai, and Indonesian persuasion--all in one week! What's left?

The boy claims his favorite curry hands down is Japanese--ick--so my next project will be to simply open up a package of House brand sauce (they carry it here in Barrio Chino) and ceremoniously dump it into a bowl. Frankly I think he just misses our weekly trek to the Curry House in West LA, because no sane person can possibly prefer Japanese-style curry over all the others, claro?