Day 11: Stoopids

It wasn't hard to come up with stuff to write about tonight. The title says it all; Stoopids. The last couple of days have been filled with dumb things that have made me smile, shake my head, and/or count my lucky stars. It's fitting therefore that tonight is my last night as a non-studying member of society. Tomorrow at 12:50 p.m. I set foot again into the classroom in the hopes of avoiding the Stoopid Category as often as possible.

First and foremost, Dude at Lowe's is probably my favorite, mostly because he'll never learn. On one of 17 trips to the hardware store, Lowe's, I witnessed a gentlman attempt to leave through the entrance door. If that was it, I would have forgotten him before I even saw him try. But oh, it wasn't. Not only did he walk right by the greeter at the entrance, not only did he inevitably walk right up to the sign that says "Entrance Only", not only did he pass under the area a motion sensor WOULD HAVE been had it in fact been an entrance, when the sliding AUTOMATIC door did not open for him, he actually attempted, with his hand, to push them open himself (sorry for the long and unwieldy sentence). And you know what the worst part is?? At the EXACT moment that he set his palm on one of the sliding doors to push, someone outside walked up to the entrance, tripped the sensor and away they slid. If you still haven't hopped onto the wild ride that is my train of thought, get this: THAT MAN NOW THINKS THAT HE OPENED THE DOOR WITH HIS HAND. That man, in a world where every department store, every grocery store, every hardware store, and every airport requires you to simply walk up to a door to open it, that man thinks he slid an 800 pound wall of glass by simply touching and leaning on it with his palm. If you're asking, the answer is no, I'm not giving him the benefit of the doubt.
Stoopid.

Second and less foremost (but still stoopid) is Girl at Walmart. While in the refrigerated section, I was confronted with one of those "before and after" shots in a youth regeneration commercial for lotion. Up walked a college girl, and right behind her, a frighteningly similar image (face and dress) was her mother but looking 40 years older. Here's the conversation:
Mom: ...but don't you already have orange juice?
Girl: Yah but we drink it so fast we should get another. (picks up bottle)
Mom: Hmmm, check the experiation date just to be safe.
Girl: October 25th.... (looks at mom) is that far away??

Nuff said.

Stoopid.


And I'm afraid I occupy the third spot. I did laundry today for the first time and I was so busy trying to keep track of my keys to not lock myself out of my apartment and the laundry room (there's the first excuse), and too occupied trying to hold keys, phone, money, detergent, and hamper (there's the second) that I threw the clothes in the machine, turned it on, and left without adding detergent. Only after getting back to the apartment and realizing I hadn't opened the new bottle of detergent, did I head back. On my leisurely walk I was swinging the bottle around in amusement. Because detergent is viscous, it didn't all fall back to into the bottle when I set it on the machine. As soon as I removed the cap, out it poured on my hands, the floor, and I'm sure on my toes.

Stoopid.

Thank goodness for school.

At least my washing machine is from space and this particular side-loader has special little flaps on top to add detergent and softener.

And finally for the fourth instance of stoopid, check out that picture. Those are my spices, Rosemary (cute right?), Basil (like in Austin Powers), and Tarragon (bad ass). I named them myself.
They're just so cute they're stoopid.
Stoopid.







Anyway, that concludes my indulgence in Stoopidness before I begin spending time in a place that is one of the farthest things from stoopid. Tomorrow I take the proverbial plunge, and the parents leave as well (sad face). I'm excited, but nervous. Hopefully someone farts really early in the first class to release all that inevitable tension (in the classroom and their rectum, of course).
I bid you farewell, kind friends and family.
I love you all.
Stay classy San Diego,

-Montreal Gator

living room - picture to be hung on far wall

living room - other side facing desk and front door

bedroom - view from door, most decorations in this area, wall to left still to be worked on

other side of room, view from door - work still to be done

bathroom - two sinks, bitches

kitchen

kitchen - walls still to be dressed

The First Week: never doing this again?

So I needed to figure out a way of starting this thing tonight, because there's too much swirling through my mind. (I also need to find another word to begin my sentences with; there's got to be a grammar book out there somewhere that disagrees with "so").
I thought an appropriate way would be to begin with something that totally disagrees with my theme of the week: something I'll definitely repeat in the future --> cheerios with a wooden spoon. You see, you need to keep the O's at the front of the spoon because your oral cavity (ew) is not deep enough (ew) to fit the whole thing in (that's what she said). That challenge alone is enough to merit another experience. Also, the identical color of the spoon and the cheerios makes it so that, if you cross your eyes, you think you're eating cheerios with a spoon made of cheerios! (Or that you're eating a bowl full of wooden spoons with said wooden spoon.)
Seconds please!

Anyway, I digress. Back to more important things like the apartment. I'd like to introduce you all to Furniture Piece #2: Floor Lamp. Floor Lamp was purchased as a compliment to the dark furniture I planned on..... DAMMIT.

Ok. Theme of the week: "never doing this again" There are many things I don't think I'll ever repeat. Let's start with not blogging for 5 days after moving to a new city. When you lack human contact beyond curt nods, even the monotonous waiter who doesn't know the difference between a gluten free meal and one that's low in calories seems like Steve Irwin; eating fish for dinner feels like you're LIVING an episode of Shark Week; even taking the bus feels like a Disney adventure. My standards have definitely been lowered. That being said, I feel like I have too much to write about. I hope I meet some REALLY exciting people to readjust my metric for awesomeness.

Next thing I'll never do again: move into a second floor apartment and buy a 6000 pound couch. Nope, never again, not ever. Not even if you paid me in over-inflated gold. "Just rent a Uhaul," they said. "We'll hold it for 30 days," they assured me.
Oh. My. Gosh. How gracious of them to let me transport my own couch!
I'll remember them forever.
Here are the thoughts that went through my head, you tell me if they make sense:
1. Purchase the couch, have the store hold it.
2. Rent a Uhaul with the parents, pick it up ourselves.
3. Rent an appliance dolly (extended handles). Allllll goood right?
4. Roll it up the stairs on the dolly, and then just get mom and dad to help me turn it sideways to get it through the door.
Airtight.
Foolproof.
Guaranteed.
No worries, mate.
Right?





WRONG. More wrong than Christopher Walken at an elementary school.
(just kidding, I love that guy).

Idea #1 was fine, and so was idea #2. It's at idea #3 things started to go wrong. The dolly sucked. Oh look, a perfect segway into idea #4: you know what also sucks? The stairs and railing outside my door. The only way to get the couch at an angle able to go through the door was to suspend it 18 feet in the air over the railing (under which REAL humans walk every day!). Not to mention having to do so with arms extended, ligaments tearing, and heart exploding.

Don't worry, enthralled readers. I was spared this agony, and the eventual death it would have led to, by an angel. A guardian angel. A Peruvian guardian angel. A Peruvian guardian angel sporting six-pack abs, a barrel chest, and biceps for days. Not only did he walk by at the EXACT moment we opened up the Uhaul and offer to help move EVERYTHING, he did so wearing only pyjama pants. Now don't get the wrong impression ladies, he's unavailable because of a relationship and a child, not because I have a crush on him (although it may sound like it). But I will have you know, walking around flashing your guns automatically signs you up for "Team Help-Farid-Move-The-Couch". And move the couch we did! However, let's get one thing clear: it was NOT all butterflies and puppies and Aladdin coloring books. We did so with blood, sweat, and a few tears. The couch did, for a moment, hang over that spot where people walk, I now have carpal tunnel syndrome, and I believe The Angel has leather burns on his palms. But the couch now sits comfortably behind me none the worse for wear, INSIDE the apartment. I sincerely believe that if an angel hadn't descended from apartment 84 at that exact moment, the focal point of my living room would be sitting on the grass outside for all to enjoy.

You may have noticed I've metioned my parents a few times as if they're close by. THEY ARE. They got here Monday!!! WOOOOOOOOHHOOOO!
BRAP!
BRAP!
BRAP!
That leads me to another thing I'll never do again: move away from home without immediately bringing them with me. The obvious question you're all thinking right now: Farid, what the hell are you talking about? Let me explain.
I flew to Gainesville Wednesday, August 10th. They arrived Monday, August 15th. In the five days before they got here, what did I accomplish? I bought a shower curtain with frogs on it; I bought a bendable hamper and got hit in the face with it; I bought a wooden spoon as my first utensil.
What's been done since they got here? The entire apartment is now fully furnished (including assembly), the kitchen is fully stocked (cupboards and fridge), bank/phone/internet have all been set up.
Conclusion: I make a better tourist than I do resident/I'm a wandering space cadet and my parents are Houston, Ground Control.

In other news: It was Papa Saad's birthday yesterday! What did we do to celebrate, you ask?
We assembled furniture.

Perfect.

But seriously, having them down here is a blessing. After the novelty of living out of a hotel room off bar food wore off, the bare walls in my apartment and a serious lack of friends started to suck. Not having to leave all of home behind all at once is probably my salvation at this point. If it wasn't for them, this apartment would have never fixed itself and this place wouldn't feel like a home. Let's just say they're making this transition logistically, and more important, emotionally bearable.
Mom, Dad, you're welcome to sleep on my couch anytime.

That being said, check out this cool restaurant we went to tonight. It's a better version of the failed Zyng on Sources.




On a very serious note, I apologize for the formatting of this page, photos and all. These pictures are more stubborn than an Amish on the threshold of a Best Buy.

What else have I done this week? About four or five orientations, all of them boring (but I must admit, quite informative). I've accumulated a Dwight Howard-size stack of paper made up of bank statements, warranties, pamphlets, and receipts from every furniture and hardware store in Gainesville. (Nice reference, I know) Git'r'done. Ummmmmm..... I've sweat a lot? Yah, until the storms yesterday, the humidex pushed the mercury up to 44 celsius. I'm glad I'm here for school during a time when it gets "cold". Speaking of cold, the International Student website advises all students that winter clothing is appropriate as temperatures have been known to drop to 5 or 10 degrees celsius in winter. Brrrrrr.
Fuck off.
Look for me in Bermudas on the 9th hole in January.

That being said, goodnight to you all. I'll probably post some melancholic, philosophically insightful piece Sunday night. It'll only be fitting as I start class Monday morning and that sort of thing just seems appropriate. In the meantime, check out these dope-ass pictures of my campus. Whenever it gets too cold this winter, just scroll back and pretend you're here.

-Montreal Gator

Fountain behind J. Wayne Reitz Union building

Bell Tower - the bell rings every 15 minutes and chimes tunes in line with the weather. More on that later.

Booya. That is all.

Florida Gym - College of Health and Human Performance, my home for the next 2 years.

THE SWAMP - home of the Gators, and importantly, next door to my department.

There are people scattered throughout this picture, can you figure out which ones are real? Not all of them are.

The first ever tablet PC. And you thought the iPad was revolutionary.

This wasn't on campus. It was actually taken behind a Target. Less glamorous, but still pretty.

Day 3: you just gotta talk to people

It was tough naming today's post because this fine Gainesville day had a theme to it, but it ended with an experience so traumatic it was almost worthy of "title" status. Alas, "almost" is the operative word. But more about that later...

I set out from the Holiday Inn knowing it was gonna be a long one, so I fueled up with some water and an apple. From that point on it was, in order, sign in with the International Student Center, get my Gator1 card from the library, run by the registrar (dumb word, btw, who agrees?), eat lunch at Steak'n'Shake, zoome (that's French for "zoom") back to the apartment for bed reception, renew the car rental, sign up and pick up internet service equipment, pharmacy run, furniture run, grocery run. Gimme a sec, I'm out of breath..... (in the meantime, how the fuck is "gimme" not underlined in red right now? #internetage).

Here's something to look at so you don't get bored.... you know, lotta writing.

That's my humble abode. No, no, not the WHOLE thing. Check second floor, first door to the left of the pillar --> BOOYA.

Ok, so what did I learn today? Well, it's that you just gotta TALK to people.... Gainesville is considered a small town (100,000-150,000 people) and therefore exhibits stereotypical small town behavior, "hellos" in the streets to strangers and such. Off the bat, however, people aren't that talkative. But whether it's the near-retirement gentlemen at the parking booth who promised me his post-work hobby was going to be the gym, the internet clerk who's a 70-30 mix of Jack Black and Zack Galafanakis, or the grocery cashier complaining about what must have been menstrual cramps, all it took was a little conversation initiation and they lit right up. So much so that our talks often extended past whatever business I had standing there. What's more, they often went out of their way, whether a little or a lot, to help me out. Mr. Parking Booth told me I could park all weekend without paying, Jack Galafanakis showed me how to install my router and modem so I wouldn't have to pay for the service, and Ms. Menstrual gave me membership discounts when I didn't have a card! That isn't to say you chat people up to get shit from 'em (there were many conversations at many of my stops without said tangible "rewards"), but a little goodwill going out brings a little, or a lot of it, back to you. It's obvious you've heard this disguised version of "what goes around comes around" before. But did you know all it took was a smile, a "can you help me out, I'm new here", or a "how you doin' today, sir?"? That's it!
Granted, this is Gainesville, not New York, but I believe the lesson still stands, no matter how obvious it may seem. I just think we take the little pleasant gestures for granted. And consequently, we stop doing them.

I need to talk about Steak'n'Shake for a second. I like food, THAT'S simple. I like good food even better. But I also love gorging on garbage food (who doesn't?). I was apprehensive about restaurant selections coming here; Montreal is a foodie's paradise and the U.S., I've heard, is a ton of fast food. I don't want to take away from restaurants in this country, there is clearly an overwhelming selection of great ones here. BUT, Montreal is filled with quality middle ground spots, some higher end than others, that are neither fast food, nor fine cuisine. Think Madison's, Baton Rouge, Scarolie's, Del Frisco's, Jack Astor's, any affordable sushi place, or all of St-Denis. There is definitely less of that here. My first fast food experience here was therefore a big step for me. At any rate, there's the meal, and it was pretty good! Guacamole burger with cheese and the usual fixings with some funky southern sauce. A salad with no-fat ranch dressing, and my favorite, unsweetened iced tea. The bread was fresh, almost to the point you'd think they stuck it in the steamer, the salad was meh as they all have been, and the guacamole on the burger was a pleasant surprise. The food arrived quickly and the servers were attentive. I must say, for a first time experience this trip, I'm happy. And then the bill, heheh. I knew what it would be, but just seeing these pictures in order still amazes me. I can't believe this country.








It was then time to dress the apartment, partially at least. The bed arrived with some bookshelves, and like a boss home owner, I was prepared. As you can see FANTASTIC pillowcases. I know, I was quite impressed with myself as well. As for the foreground, just a little bit of new love there, as well as some old. BUT, that wasn't the first piece of furniture in the apartment, no no no. Take a look at the next photo. That right there, is the first piece of furniture.... if you can't see it, don't worry. Just locate the shit stain on the carpet on the right lower portion of the photo and move left about a foot or two. See it? Good. That hamper has the honor of first piece in the apartment. And it came at no small price. This hell spawned contraption is made of bendable plastic supports that coil up in the packaging. Upon opening it, the little bastard went all jack-in-the-box on me and punched me in the head. Yah, NO WARNING ON THE PACKAGE. Whatever Wal-Mart, whatever.















Ahhhhhh my next favorite stop on the tour, my beloved shower curtain. If you're wondering, yes I named the frogs: John, Paul, George, and Ringo. Thank goodness the Beatles were British, and not French, or I wouldn't be able to name them like that... frankly, it would be racist. On another note, I'm thanking my lucky stars I don't do drugs, because taking a dump with these bad boys staring at me might be something a human heart couldn't take.

The picture of the router, well it's nothing really, but as soon as I saw the sticker I thought: "if they had only replaced the words 'insert CD and run wizard first' with 'HAMMERTIME', it might just be the best router ever."

 So after all was said and done, I started moving the kitchen and bathroom supplies in, and it was nearing right around 9 PM. Here comes that trauma I was talking about. For some reason I walked into the bedroom and opened up the closet, and away ran this BEHEMOTH of a cockroach. It reminded me of my amazement every time I watch a linebacker rush the line: "how the hell does something so big move so fast?!" I won't say my life flashed before my eyes, but this thing had to die. When they told me I could have a roommate under special circumstances, this is NOT what I had in mind. He tried to run between the carpet and the door, but like a teen who doesn't know their own size, he forgot how big he was and got stuck there. A shoe? A broom? (Fuck, I don't have a broom yet.) A bookshelf, knife, elastic band?? What in Satan's name could I use to kill this thing??? My logic here had to include collateral damage: this thing had guts....no literally, it was huge and had high visceral volume! I didn't want to use something I'd have to peel a 3-foot intestine off of. So I settled on my empty modem box. I approached the door and wiggled it, and out he came again, like an idiot, running in no apparent direction. I SMASHED AND I SMASHED AND I SMASHED. Three smashes, the fucker was still good as new. SO I SMASHED AND SMASHED AND SMASHED AGAIN. Another three swings.
Immobile.
Victory.
I retrieved a plastic bag to slide him into (yah, this bastard needed a body bag). I used the bag to nudge him in AND HE MOVED.
ARE YOU KIDDING ME????????????????????????????????????????????????????
At this point I'm wondering if I'm going to get any sleep tonight. So this time I pinned him down with the box and ground him into the carpet. The fact the carpet has some bounce to it probably didn't help my case. Eventually he stopped moving and I finally slid him into this bag. But now on his back, his legs were still kicking! There was no way I was going to let this turn into some twisted cockroach version of Dawn of the Dead; this asshole was NOT coming back to get me. I used the box to lop his head off in the bag. I then managed to rip a few legs off and pop his body. The carnage can be viewed in the picture. Quick Kids Game: try to identify which piece is which!
I think I still saw an antenna on the decapitated head moving, but I'll attribute that to residual neural signals and sleep soundly.
Whew. Not gonna lie, (are you kidding?? "gonna" is also a valid English word??) I was a little shaken after the encounter. But what doesn't kill you makes you stronger, right??

Anyway, this post has gone on long enough. I am le tired and so probably, are you. Hopefully I'll make a friend tomorrow so my next post can have something other than food and creatures in it. For now, I bid you good farewell and good morning.
**Cue "Fix You" by Coldplay

-Montreal Gator

Ps. That's my ride. Booya.

Day 1 --> 2: Gainesville and such

So where did I leave everything offfffffff. GAINESVILLE! So I woke up in the most fantastic seat on the most fantastic bus watching the Bourne Identity. I thought "meh, not bad for 40 bucks." AND THEN I MADE MY FIRST FRIEND! His name is Luis and he's a chemical engineer from Columbia. The irony didn't escape me but I kept it under wraps. He was really nice and got me the numbers for some cabs I would need once we got dropped off. Needless to say he saved me, the parking lot was massive and nothing was around. The cab ride, was however, better. Scraggly old van rolls up with one headlight broken. The old guy from Back to the Future hops out, punches the headlight (it turns on) and shakes my hand saying "my name is Jodi, like Jodi Foster, welcome to Gainesville." Needless to say, the car ride was adventurous; we listened to Kesha, exchanged phone numbers (that's how it works down here, I swear), and exchanged pleasantries.

Picking up the car was uneventful, and getting to the hotel even more so (which is a good thing!). My hotel room is nice which was a RELIEF. So nice in fact, it had little bands around the first two pillows with "firm" and "soft" written on them. HOW CONSIDERATE IS THAT?! Anyway, there's a bar next door called Beef 'O'Brady's, and that's where I ate upon arrival last night, this afternoon, and it's where I'm headed after I finish this. The fact I'm living on bar food right now doesn't bode well for the waistline (not to mention the 12 Heinekens for $10.97).

I also got my apartment today! woot woot! It's bloody empty though so I went and shopped for a bunch of bright colorful things that I think may look good in there. If they in fact don't look good, well I'll just have to live with it for 2 years. Getting to my apartment was interesting though: as I pulled out of the hotel parking lot, 4 cop cars zoomed by causing a ruckus. Little did I know I'd meet them JUST down the road at my very own apartment village. oh wow..... well to say nothing of first impressions, I skittered over to my apartment trying not to draw attention to myself, all the while asking myself why my first encounter with my home of the next 2 years involved police. Oh well, right?

 

Day 1: Mtl --> Orlando --> Gainesville

I think the word "incompetence" can adequately describe the opening hours to this trek. Not only did the service desk at the airport in Mtl tell me "nah you don't need that essential paper, the system changed", but the custom's officer said "yes you need that paper, I don't know who told you that." Aaaaaalllllsssoooo, my cab in Orlando took me 10 minutes in the wrong direction, because apparently "Jetport drive" sounds like "Tradeport drive". And the kicker: Rogers sold me a roaming plan while simultaneously blocking my roaming capabilities, after which they tried to prevent us from changing to a plan worthy of normal intellect.

So, after this little adventure, I ended up at RedCoach Travel bus depot, which is pretty much equal distance from Orlando as Montreal is (I'm questioning my itinerary at this point).
Aaaaand the only thing near it is this lovely gas station. So it's internet time! But I've been sitting here for 3 hours now and I'm getting just a taaaad fed up. So fed up I got hungry. So hungry I ate this!


At any rate, exorbitant amounts of sugar, caffeine, and social networking have gotten me through this trying time. Next leg: Orlando --> Gainesville bus ride. Stay tuned for possible stories about smelly patrons sitting next to me, or a flat tire *knock on wood*
Peace & Love
MtlG