I May Have Heels and You May Be Closer But I Will Win

Not everything in my life is a competition, however, I will admit that sometimes I see a competition where none exists. At other times, I create a competition that might not otherwise have been there.  For example, the other day I had to go to an ATM by our house on my way to court because I have to park where they only take cash. Again with the cash only! I never have cash.  So, anyway, I pull up to the corner bank in a dubious area and ponder parking in the fire lane since it is a walk up ATM and the parking spots are about six feet away. Since this bank was near where I got a ticket last year, I decided not to take my chances and park legally.

Into the first parking spot I went. Just as I was turning my car off, this minivan pulls up and parks in the fire lane. The van is a mere two feet from the ATM and I am pissed! Because of my good citizen ways, I am going to have to wait for another person to use the ATM.

Unless I beat them there first, that is.

Just as the guy was getting out of his car, I was out of mine and running in high heels and a suit.  I jumped a curb, ran through some grass and some bushes and got to the ATM in time. I resisted the urge to yell out "FACE" or some other sort of "nah nah" sentiment and hurried my transaction along.  I turned to find the guy leaning against his car.

Guy: You beat me.

Me: Yes, but you got that awesome parking spot.

Guy: But you are wearing a nice suit.

Me: Touche

Okay, I didn't actually say that last thing, but he did compliment me on my suit. I only slightly felt like an ass.  I also felt like an Olympic athlete.

Then I went to the car to catch my breath.

You Want More Amsterdam? I've Got More Amsterdam!

Some rude commenter who may or may not be related to me and such relation may or may not be through choice rather than blood, requested more European vacation pictures.  A nicer commenter (Hi Cindy!) also wanted more Europe pictures.  So I sorted through some of the thousands (I am serious. Thousands.) of pictures to bring you highlights of Amsterdam. Part 1. Or is it Part 2? 

I told you there were a lot of bikes. Look at all of those bikes. It even made me want to ride bike.  Until I saw how fast the cars zip by them and how the bikers have to make sharp turns.  Scary bike riding for sure.

I want to live in these expensive houses by the canal.  They are millions of dollars or something ridiculous.

I wanted to eat at this castle like place. I had no idea what they served. I still don't.

I just love the feel and symmetry of this street.  And the colors.

I love these buildings.

I love the trees lining the street. And more bikes.

And what does the Red Light District look like in the daytime?  Pretty much like this:

Like all of the other streets but with women in windows...

...and all of those people, mostly tourists, making their way in and out of the district...

...and the Live Sex Show signs...

...and the window full of weird pornographic knickknacks and, um, toys...

...and the Triple X rated sewer drain...

Ah, Amsterdam. I love thee.

You know who really loves Amsterdam? B. He wants to move there. Like tomorrow.  But we have a house (well two...grr), and five animals, and jobs.  You know, the little things.  Also? We don't speak Dutch.  Details.

However, should we win the lotto, I think we will be moving to Amsterdam, with Paris as a second home if I have any input.

You know how they say there is nothing like Paris in springtime? "They" are correct.

More on that later.

It's Not My Fault That Your Hair Is Buggy.

It all started with a dream I had last week.  A bad dream. A creepy dream. One that stayed with me for so long the next day, I told everyone, including B, about it while repeatedly shaking and saying something along the lines of "BLAHHAYYYY". Whatever that means.  The dream in question? It went a little something like this:

I notice that flies keep getting stuck in my hair and the buzzing is driving me crazy. My Dad tells me maybe I should start brushing it. I tell him I just brushed it that morning and could he please just help me get them out. Then my hand goes by my ear and I feel a tickle. I pull a fly out of the inside of my ear, and then another. They are coming from my ears. My Dad and brother refuse to go to the hospital with me, both saying they have to work. I scream THERE ARE FLIES LIVING IN MY EARS!! They are not affected.

Fast forward to today. B and I are outside with the dogs when he nonchalantly says as walking away, "There's a bug in your hair." When I responded predictably with outright horror and a shriek "ARE YOU SERIOUS? WHERE? GET IT OUT! OUT!," he just shrugged and said "somewhere."  He would not even respond to my pleas to get it out.  Can you believe this? What is wrong with the men in my life and in my dreams? Where are the gentlemen that would help a woman get a bug out of her hair? Not in my life apparently. You know what B said in response to all of this?  I will give you one hint, it is the title of this post.

Speaking of this post, I know B will probably say that he cannot believe I "wasted" a post on a dream and a stupid bug in my hair when I could be telling you and showing you about our awesome vacation.  True.  You know what my response to that is? We took too many damn pictures. Seriously. Who takes almost 2000 pictures?  I need time to figure out what to present to you so that you will not think that we have lost our damn minds.  

So stay tuned.