Dear Kim,

About a week ago, I met this wonderful man on a business trip. Unfortunately he doesn’t speak much English. But even though we can’t fully communicate, I sense a connection when I look into his eyes, like I can read his mind. Do you think this relationship is worth pursuing?

Thanks,
Lisa in the Language Barrier Reef

Dear Lisa,

Aww, that’s sooo romantic! But it sounds like you do speak the same language, the universal language of Love…and, like Latin, it’s going to die.

Lisa, let me tell you a little story…

Years ago, I was at a bar minding my own business (my business happened to be eavesdropping), when this handsome gentleman came up to me and said “Hola” or “ciao” or “火本身”- whatever, I just knew it wasn’t English. I started to say “I don’t speak blah blah” but then I noticed he was HOT! Like who-gives-a-rat’s-ass-what’s-coming-out-of-his-mouth HOT!

So I nodded and simply repeated his greeting back to him. Later, I found out that our conversation went like this:

Him: Excuse me. Your dress is tucked inside your pantyhose.

Me: *blushes* Excuse me. Your dress is tucked inside your pantyhose. *big smile, head tilt*

From that moment on we were inseparable. I showed him my little corner of the United States, including every Starbuck’s within a 10 mile radius and the world’s biggest ball of yarn. In return, he told me stories of his beautiful homeland (I’m guessing that’s what all the blah blah was about).

Through our whole courtship, he was such a gentleman, never once touching me inappropriately despite all my attempts. In fact, we never even kissed! But we did spend lots of time just talking with our eyes. I assumed he was an optometrist.

“WTF are you talking about?”

“I have something in my eye.”

“Are we ever getting to first base?”

We were only together a week when, to my surprise, he pulled out an engagement ring! Wow!

Thoughts went through my head like: When will we get married? Where will we live? What’s his name? How do I ask him these questions?

But I thought “love will find a way!” and I said “YES!”. The first person he told was his girlfriend, Alijandra. Luckily, she spoke English.

Lisa, he was marrying me for a green card! But I couldn’t get mad at him, he probably told me this while I stood there watching his pecs flex (he was often shirtless).

Once it was established by his girlfriend that “no, you won’t be consummating the marriage”, I broke the engagement off and sent him back to blah blah land.

So what I’m saying is this, without speaking the same language, you’ll never really know what that son of a bitch is thinking. You might end up living with him and his foreign girlfriend (who will sit around all all day smoking cigarettes and making you feel like a fat sack of shit compared to her hot Brazilian body). If you’re ok with that possibility then I say GO FOR IT!

该市话,

Kim

You guys, I think I’ve lost it. Either that or I’m too brilliant for this world…frankly, I’m leaning towards “lost it”.

You may remember that yesterday’s post alluded to our cat, Roxy, peeing under our pool table. Well, I walked by that room yesterday and I. just. snapped!

No, I didn’t kill the cat (she’s too quick). Instead, I locked her in the bathroom (don’t worry dear bleeding hearts, I gave her food, water, and a litter box) and rented a steam cleaner at the grocery store.

But here was my dilemma: how do I steam clean an area rug, on hardwood floors, under a pool table? Answer: half-assed.

As you know from my previous posts, I pride myself on thinking outside of the box…like waaay outside. So this is what I did:

1. I purchased 2 plastic tarps, aluminum foil, and painter’s tape.

2. I laid a tarp under each section of rug as I cleaned it…for about the first 10 minutes, then I said “Screw this! It’s taking too long!” and ditched the tarp. *Our hardwoods, may or may not be rotting as I type this.

3. I let the rug dry for 24 hours. (cat still in solitary confinement so she can’t re-piss)

4. I then covered the rug with a tarp and taped it to the floor with painter’s tape.

Beautiful, no? Wait, it gets better!

5. And because I remembered reading that cats freak out when walking on aluminum foil, I lined the whole damn area with it!!!!

Do you know how many leftover pizzas this could have covered? Oh, the waste.

6. Then I placed the litter box near the area because I expect the cat’s brain to go something like:

“gotta nap, gotta nap, gotta nap. Hold up- gotta pee, gotta pee, gotta pee, gotta-WTF?! God damn it! What’s that crazy bitch done now?”

She WILL then test the foil and she WILL then almost piss herself when it crinkles (hahaha! Damn, I wish I could get that moment on video). After that, I guarantee she’ll flee to the comfort of her litter box…or my pillow. We’ll see.

I’ll admit, this is as far as I’ve gotten in my plan, I have no end game. The cat’s only 3, so my game room might look like this for the next 15 years. It’s a good thing we’re lame and never entertain.

PS- If you think this is extreme, then you definitely won’t approve of my backup plan to catheterize her.

PPSS- I’ll write the remainder of our Florida trip over the weekend. I know you’re all just DYING to know how it ends (spoiler: we come home).