Sunday, April 22, 2012

The Best News A Person Could Ever Receive

Contrary to popular belief, I do have feelings. What do I look like to you people - the Grinch?
The resemblance is so nonexistent.
Forget the green hair - I would never
wear a German lederhosen in
December. Puh-lease.
Not only am I lacking a body infested with green hair, but I also do not have critters crawling around my teeth, nor is my heart six sizes too small. I got an e-mail last night from a reader who decided to pour their feelings out against my last post on the movie "Juno." This e-mail outlined the fact that I should be ashamed of myself for writing a post that was not written by me, and how dare I invite people to read such an account in which was not my own personal creativity. Crickets. What?
After reading the e-mail over a second time, I wrote back as fast as my tiny little fingers would move across the keyboard. First of all, buddy, I was not academically dishonest. Hell-o, if you had actually read the post, the first paragraph was me saying, "Hey guys, saw something cool on the Internet by The Editing Room, check it out!" I gave them credit! I wrapped the message up after that and asked her to please continue to follow my work. Less than ten minutes later a "You Got Mail" voice over came from my inbox. Just kidding. But seriously, how can I make a cool voice say that upon a new e-mail popping up? The simple script of "you have one new message" just isn't cutting it anymore.
The person basically said that no, that's not what they meant. Rather, it was a light hearted 
Comparison to vegetable soup? Ok.
Comparison to the Grinch? Not ok.
message in disappointment that I would tease my audience by making it seem as though I was going to write a new post full of interesting details, funny stories, or whatever it is I do that keeps you guys coming back for more. "I didn't mean it!" the reply continued. "I actually love your writing." Oh. Ok, good. Sorry about that, for anyone else who was disappointed if I had led you all to believe that that post was about to take you all on a new journey of my life. My reader concluded the e-mail by saying, "Keep them coming. I could eat your blog right up." Tickle me pink! What a compliment that was. Well, in that case, I'm happy to hear that you don't see me as a Grinch after all, but rather a big, hearty bowl of vegetable soup full of, as I said before, whatever it is that makes you guys keep coming back for more. 
Castel St. Angelo
Today was the final day of Culture Week, and I'm going to suggest to the mayor that they should extend Culture Week into Culture Month (with a small paragraph on how gelato should be free during this period, too). I spent it with my Swedish friend Erika at Castel St. Angelo! I've been dying to go since I arrived in Rome, but knew that admission was expensive and that I could go in for free and April. And so I did. Or rather, we did. It's located at the opposite end of the Vatican and was designed between 123 and 129 A.D. The name comes from the legend of Saint Gregorio Magno, who had a dream about an angel appearing in the fortress who announced the end of the Plague. In 1500, the famous 
The castle gives some of the best views of Rome.
Italian artist Rafaello di Montelupo created a statue of he angel that is now on display in the Corile d'Onore. The castle was used as a prison for nearly three centuries. So as you can see... I had quite the day. In other news from Rome, yesterday was Rome's 2765th birthday! Like a fine wine, this city gets better with age.
It's hard to believe that this journey of mine will soon be over. I'm not quite ready to let it go yet, but at the same time, coming home will feel something like meeting Stephen Harper and punching him square in the face for being the crown fool of Canada, or being asked out on a date by Ryan Gosling. Or like seeing your sister for the first time after nearly eight whole months. I know I already mentioned it to you that my older sister
is coming to Europe, but do you know just how excited I
am? Very excited! I'm picking her up at the Fiumincino airport in Rome at 10 am in exactly 10 days now. I even made a sign with her name on it to hold up, just in case we don't recognize each other after all the time apart. It's on a blank white sheet with the words NICOLE spread across in big, glittery letter's that can be seen all the way from a galaxy far, far away.
Hmm... where to begin with my next piece of news (aren't I just full of new things to tell you every time I write?). Well, here goes. A new member is being introduced to the Pressé clan. A girl who goes to my old high school and I have each other on Facebook. This girl, whose name is Chanel, worked with my sister once upon a time, and she was also on the Italy trip when my school came to visit in March. My family has been hunting (not literally) for a puppy to hopefully adopt in June or July. Ideally, we wanted a golden retriever/yellow lab mix, but we weren't having any luck. No one we knew or contacted was breeding their golden/lab 
dogs, no one was advertising them, and we'd even been searching rescue homes. Niente (Italian for "nothing"). Well, I was browsing through my newsfeed when a picture of Chanel popped up of her holding what looked like a naked mole rat. When I clicked on the picture to make it bigger, it was a puppy! Could it be? I asked myself. Is this the one? 
I inquired about the mole rat puppy that was cradled in her arms, and it turns out that her boyfriend's parents had bred their yellow lab who just had puppies a couple weeks ago. I asked for the information, and was given the mother's phone number, who I passed along to my own mom. After their collaboration, her and my sister went to visit the home and... Wait for it... BOUGHT A PUPPY!!!
I can hardly contain my excitement, not that I'm even trying to. Because the litter of eight were just born, they still need to spend a couple months with their mom. When my mom asked what date they could be picked up, we were dropped with this tidbit that makes the whole situation 
What I imagine the little babe will look like.
so meant to be - June 6th. As in, the day I come home. Since we don't want to drag the poor thing all the way to the airport or bring him to my grandparents house for my homecoming dinner, we're picking up our little bundle of joy on Thursday afternoon after my haircut, where the two of us will play and bond in the backseat of a car (something I usually reserved for my high school football team. Kidding!). 
Anyway, it's settled. My family and I have bought an adorable yellow lab puppy that I get to snuggle and spoil for it's entire life. Ladies and gentlemen, not only is Facebook a place where relationships begin with a friend request and a "Have we met? :)", but it is also a place in which you can find a new member of the family to bring into your home. Thanks, Mark Zuckerberg.
Now, the real debate begins - what will we name him? Because, yes, he's a he. A him. A baby boy that I will sneak out of his crate and keep him tucked under my arms like a live teddy bear 
in the middle of the night. Right now, our family is at war between two names. Well, not really. It's more like my mom, sister and I against our dad. The three of us gal pals have already dubbed him as Sampson. It's cute, right? Sampson. It's full of cute nicknames that we've already started babying him with such as Samosa, Sir Sam-sa-lot, Sam-I-Am, Samsonite, Sammy, and so on. But a name I suggested during my parents trip to Italy was Lucca, which I half regret, because my dad claims that he doesn't like Sampson and that his name must be Lucca. I obviously like it too since I'm the genius who came up with it. It's Italian, so really, what's not to like? My issue is that there aren't as many nicknames to go with it.
My dad's argument is that he's the only guy in the house and that this dog will be his buddy, and he doesn't want to call it something girly. First of all, Sir, we also have a male cat in the house whose name is Boo Friend, so don't say you're the only male in the house. I even have a Siamese fighting fish named Kevin, although I'm unsure of the actual gender. But Sampson isn't even a girly name at all, right? And let's be real here... Who gives a tiny naked mole rat's ass? As for the further complaint about not having a male domain in the house due to the forever smell of fresh flower's and clique decorations that have to do with my mom's beach theme such as photo frames with "life is better at the beach" scrolled across in girly writing, I have to correct you again. You have a shed where you keep garden tools, a dart board, and old hockey sticks. So there.

No comments:

Post a Comment