border patrol? thank you for protecting us!

One of my friends is a Canadian citizen who recently had to go through the US on her way to Mexico. She just emailed me these snippets from her conversations with the border guards and I can't stop laughing.

Him: Why does your friend live in Seattle if he's Canadian?
K: He works for Amazon.com.
Him: Why?
K: I don't know... because they hired him??
Him: How long has he worked there?
K: Almost 9 years. he has a visa, but he applied for a green card a couple years ago.
Hhim: Well, he's not gonna get it, I'll tell you that right now.
K: ...ok....

---------------

Him: Where are you going?
K: Mexico.
Him: Have you been to Mexico before?
K: No.
Him: Where in Mexico?
K: Puerto Vallarta. The resort is called Velas Vallarta.
Him: You're being pretty vague...where are you staying specifically?
K: Like I said, it's called Velas Vallarta, in Puerto Vallarta.
Him: Is it in Nuevo Vallarta?
K: No, it's in Puerto Vallarta.
Him: Yeah, but where is it?
K: I don't know...it's on the water.
Him: There are over 200 hotels on the water there, where is this one?
K: I don't know the address!

-----------------

Him: Have you ever been arrested?
K: No.
Him: You sure?
K: Yes, I'm sure I've never been arrested.
Him: I don't believe you.
K: Well, you have my passport, can't you see that on your computer that I've never been arrested?
Him: Well, I'm gonna let you go, but know I don't believe you.

---------------------

Him: Who booked the trip, you or your friend?
K: My friend.
Him: Why didn't you?
K: Well, only one of us was going to book it, since we were going together. So it was 50/50 odds.

-----------------------

Him, while searching my purse: What's this?
K: Just some mail I picked up on my way out the door.
Him: I'm going to open your bank statement.
K: Um...ok... (while thinking, "What, are you expecting to see 'DEPOSIT FROM TERRORIST ORGANIZATION: $2,000,000'????????????")

-----------------------

She also overheard the same guard asking another woman from their bus questions in another WTF interview.

Him: Are you going to work in the States?
Her: No, I'm going to visit my daughter.
Him: Well, does she live here illegally?
Her: No, she's a professor at the university and has been for 25 years.
Him: You come down here a lot.
Her: Yes, she's my daughter.
Him: Well, you shouldn't visit her so much.

Remembering Peter Alexander Bielfeld

This post was written as part of Project 2996.

Firefighter Peter Bielfeld
Originally uploaded by elswatchoboracho

When he was five, little Petey had a tooth extracted. He was so upset that his father took him to a toy store and let him pick out any toy he wanted. Petey picked a big, red, shiny firetruck, which he kept for years afterward. “All he wanted to be was a fireman,” his father Ernest recalled.

Though his first job was working with his father as a paper handler at The Daily News, he did grow up and achieved his dream. By 2001, he had been a firefighter for over 19 years. He was known in the neighborhood for standing Ladder Company 42 in the Bronx smoking a cigar or walking around with his daughter.


On September 8, he suffered injuries fighting a fire in the Bronx. Three days later, he was in the FDNY’s medical office in Brooklyn when the call went out – planes had crashed into the World Trade Center buildings, they were burning, and people were dying. He borrowed a colleague's gear, and rushed to do what he had wanted to do since the age of five – fight fires and rescue people.

His brother Roger knew it. "This is what he wanted to do," said Roger. "You couldn't keep him out of there if you chained him up."

His father agreed. "I guess it was just meant to be," Ernest said. "You can't run away from what was meant to be."


After he died, it took nearly a year to locate his remains. In that time, a mural honoring him was painted in the Bronx. When his funeral was held on September 10, 2002, the fire truck bearing his coffin drove past the artwork. The college where he played football at retired his jersey, number 42 – ironically the same number of his ladder company.

Peter wasn’t just a firefighter, and he wasn’t just a hero – though that’s how he is remembered today. Perhaps more importantly, he was a son, a father, a brother, a brother-in-law, a cousin, an uncle. It’s difficult to remember at times that these were real people who had real lives that were cut short so quickly, and that real people miss them every day – that he wasn’t just one of the thousands that died. That’s why it’s so important to remember each victim individually, and I’m honored to have been chosen to remember Peter Alexander Bielfeld.





Sources:
http://www.flickr.com/photos/elswatchoboracho/2719675618/
http://www.fdnyc.mobi/346/BIELFE.gif
http://www.nyjnews.com/9/11/Firefighters
http://www.legacy.com/Sept11/Story.aspx?PersonID=132596
http://tnchick.com/archives/782
http://www.nydailynews.com/news/ny_crime/2008/05/28/2008-05-28_the_news_puts_up_5g_to_catch_vandal_who_.html#ixzz0QXKWMNRo

That's the way I roll...

So I had an awkward moment at the chiropractor today. I found out I've been getting too naked.

Backstory:
When I first went to the doctor, I got x-rays (as they do). In order to get x-rays, of course, you have to disrobe and put on a lovely hospital-type gown. I went straight from getting x-rays to getting my first adjustment. The next time I went, they showed me to the same room I had previously used to change, and said to put my gown in the designated bin when I was finished. Cool, no problem, I can follow simple instructions like a fucking pro. So I again get naked (well, not entirely, I kept my Eeyore panties on. Why do I have Eeyore on my underwear? I truly have no clue.) and put a gown on. All goes well. This same scenario happens the next time...and the next time...and the next time...and so on, for like three months.

Today, I got shown to a room I hadn't used before to get ready. And prominently displayed on the door is this notice:


I did a double take when I saw that. Disrobe from the WAIST up? Why the heck have I been taking my pants off? Why hasn't anyone mentioned this small fact to me? Did the doctor specifically request that I be put in this prep room BECAUSE I'd been getting too naked and he wanted me to start putting some freaking pants on?? What if I went out WITH pants and he got offended? Why would that offend him?? I don't know, I couldn't think of anything but my inadvertent superfluous nudity. I wasn't thinking clearly.

Anyway, anticlimactic ending: I kept my pants on.

ARUBA!!!

There's no more clever title than that...I'm still in beach mode so my thinking skillz (yes, that's right, skillZ) are not as sharp as they are when I'm here in the freezing cold midwest. Something about the low temperatures makes you sharper...NOT. If it did, clearly I would have been smart enough to move away from here and be living somewhere warmer.

Anywho (don't you hate that phrase?), last week my hubby and I went to Aruba. You could call it a late honeymoon, but we went with another couple and their two-year-old daughter, so if you DID call it that, you'd be wrong. Plus, that means I still get to take one in the future.

While I didn't take my filet mignon 5D camera or even my steak sandwich XTi, I did take my bologna point and shoot. If you're interested, you can check out pics from the trip - like this one

or maybe this one


or maybe you prefer a more heavily processed look?


There's also some taken with my crap underwater digital camera...really, it's amazing any of these turned out since I had no idea if I was taking a picture, had just taken a picture, or even if the camera was turned on.


You can see pictures of me snorkeling!


And precariously perched on the bow of a boat!


And rope swinging!


It was a pretty damn amazing trip and it was exceedingly hard to come back. The saddest part of the whole trip was when we were driving back from the airport after we got home, and I looked around and immediately slipped back into "Omaha" mode. It's a little depressing. Sigh.

Life, as it happens.

I quite realize that no one ever checks this anymore. I wonder why that is?

It's not like I completely abandoned it.

No, not at all.

Only.....

Oh, right. I did.

Anyway, in the interim six or seven months since my last post, I got married. I'm now MRS. Anonymous Midwest Girl!

Here's me, about to be married. Hi about-to-be-married me!

Hey yourself, handsome.


Sigh, I still love my ring. This reminds me, since she set this shot up specifically to show her branding colors, these pictures were taking by the fabulous and extremely girl-crush worthy Darbi G, with the assistance of the equally fabulous Stacy Reeves.


Warning: we're bringing it, just ahead.

Oh, it was BROUGHT, yo.

Here's our wedding party.


I know, you didn't even there there was ONE person that cool in the Midwest, much less eight of us. Well, you know now. For future reference.

Here's us ACTUALLY getting married!

Caption: Holy crap, did I just do what I think I just did??

Here's my sister slash maid of honor giving her speech. All I heard was "blah blah blah most beautiful bride blah blah blah." Just kidding. Although I'm sure that was in there somewhere. In reality it was a perfect toast involving The Princess Bride.

Aww, isn't my husband cute? Squee! I love him! Sorry, got caught up in the newlywed bliss zone there. Please don't puke on your computer.

Here's our best man announcing to the world that AMBF (now AMH?) doesn't know how to do his own laundry.

Sadly, it's true.

Our first dance, where we somehow overcame history and did not trip over each other.

Then there was a lot of drinking and dancing. And dancing and drinking.

And.

Of course.

The traditional wedding s'mores.

We've now lived happily ever after for two months. Now just 600 or so to go....




P.S. In case you're wondering, I kept that NKOTB wallpaper up until just a few months ago, when I replaced it with an Obama victory one. Sometimes, though, when I've had enough hope, I kind of miss Joey's smoldering face in the morning.