I Swear This is Not a BOMB

Those of you that know me know that I enjoy striking fear into the hearts of mortals, that is to say, I enjoy scaring people.  Over the years I have become quite good at it, though at times it has been entirely unintentional.  Several weeks back I visited the apartment of a friend and as I exited the elevator I happened to hear him unlocking the door of his apartment; assuming he had heard the elevator open I just stood at the door of his apartment.  When he opened the door his head was turned back towards the interior of the apartment as he talked to somebody inside.  He was so startled when he turned and saw me standing there that I could barely conceal my inward glee.

On numerous occasions I had startled Leslie in a similar manner and I always get yelled at that I am too quiet.  All this to say that, last weekend I had the opportunity to play one of the greatest pranks of all time on my cousin.  My cousin was coming down from Ft. Campbell to visit Leslie and I before we headed out west for my next assignment, and I knew he would be arriving sometime later in the evening on Thursday.  It just so happened that earlier in the week I stumbled across a fake tiger rug in my mom’s basement.  This rug, complete with a molded Styrofoam head had a depression in the base of the skull that perfectly fit over my own head meaning that I could wear this rug and when I got down on all fours it made a fairly convincing tiger… or at least it did at night when I was partially hidden in the bushes and emitting a growl that has caused 9^th grade boys to cower under their beds in fear.

Thursday morning I sent a text message to my cousin concerning an item I had just seen on the local news about an escaped tiger.  With that bait set I impatiently made my way through the rest of the day.  As dark approached I called the security guard at the entrance to the neighborhood and requested that he let me know when my cousin passed through the gate.  Satisfied that the trap was perfectly set I waited.  Turns out this final bit was also my undoing since the security guard gave up the jig when he announced to my cousin he (the guard) was supposed to call up to the house when he (my cousin) arrived.  I had the opportunity to scare the living daylights out of my cousin but ultimately I was foiled by a well-intentioned security guard.

I’m not certain how much longer I’ll be around to write these newsletters since my activities over the past few days have probably lit up the boards of every TERRORIST watch list known to man.  Let me back up a bit.  Tuesday, I FLEW into Houston with the intent of spending the next five days making a tour of the major cities in Texas in order to purchase a new home, i.e. a camper.  I was actually looking forward to all the driving since the car that Hertz gave me was a limited edition Mustang built for racing, hitting the accelerator in this thing felt like having a MISSILE strapped to the back.  Anyway, I hadn’t even been in Houston for 12 hours and I had already found and made a deal to purchase a camper.  I never imagined finding something so quickly, I felt like my head was going to EXPLODE.  I was really getting the PRESIDENTIAL treatment.

I was purchasing the camper from a private party; however, he still owed money on it so his bank held the title.  I had originally intended to show up with a cashier’s check, but was informed by his bank that because of numerous issues with fraud they would have to wait 5-10 business days for the check to clear before they would release the title.  The only way they would release the title immediately is if I could wire the money to them or pay cash for it.  As fishy as the wire story got I can only imagine what it would have looked like showing up with this much cash in hand… straight from a terrorist charge to drug trafficking.  Long story short, I had to open a new account with a local bank so that my own bank could wire me the money via a telephone call.  I then wired the money from my new bank account to the bank of the person I was buying the camper from.  I then closed the account that I had just opened at the local bank.  If you think that sounds confusing and suspicious trust me, the whole story is even more so.  One defunded bank account and two wire transfers later I am the proud owner of a new camper… I think.

Now, what is really amusing is that every single recipient of this newsletter/reader of my blog has probably now been flagged by the appropriate governmental agencies as suspected terrorists.  You’re welcome.

Wonder Chin Powers Activate

Of all the things I will not forget about my time in Brazil I do not think that I will ever forget the amusement I felt every time I saw someone drinking coffee.  It is not because natives of Brazil happen to drink coffee in any wildly radical fashion, rather it has everything to do with the fact that they all drink from these ridiculously large coffee cups (shown below).  I asked why it is that Brazilians drink coffee in such small quantities and I was told that it was because Brazilian coffee is so strong.  While I am not a connoisseur of coffee I can tell you with absolute certainty that their coffee is not any stronger than what you would typically find in the US, but it is significantly sweeter.

My time in Brazil has seriously interfered with my ability to watch American football games, while Leslie has recorded the games I requested there’s just something that makes the game a little less entertaining once you already know the outcome.  That said, when I figured out that there were a series of excellent bowl games starting up January 2^nd I decided that with my return to the US occurring on the 7^th I could have Leslie record the games and I would simply avoid all contact with social media, TV, ESPN, English speaking radio, email, or any credible news source in order to avoid discovering the outcomes of any of the games, particularly Oklahoma vs. Alabama.  For four days I successfully dodged all information sources that would have told me the outcomes of any of the games, there were several close calls in the form of emails and direct Facebook messages, but in each case I was able to avoid any kind of spoilers.  Monday afternoon, less than a few hours before I would pack up my belongings and jump on a plane back to the US, a coworker, with no warning, used our inter-office instant messenger to ask my opinion of the game… of course he didn’t do so without making it absolutely clear about who won.

It has become abundantly clear that as the end of the week approaches there is a direct correlation between the amount of newsletter material that I have prepared/written during the week and the quality of said material.  Thus when Saturday morning crops up and I still haven’t written a single word the class of my writing is severely degraded.  One should probably make the recommendation that I should quit while I am ahead.  That said, I will close with one last little gem I stumbled across this week.  I am one of the first people that will admit that while there is such a thing as an ugly baby, I have been blessed to be the father of a very cute one.  However, he does have what we might call a little weight problem, this is primarily evidenced by the fact that he has more chins than can be found at the corner of N. Broadway and Alpine in Los Angeles.  When I came home this past time I discovered that 3 of his chins had merged together to become a super chin and the only thing I could think of was “Wonder Chin Powers activate!”

The Basic Necessities

Monday evening I went to the grocery store to pick up some necessities in preparation for the holidays on Tuesday and Wednesday.  It should not surprise you that the necessities included a package of waffles, a large bottle of water, a box of juice, and three pints of ice cream.  Now, you are probably thinking, “Since when is three pints of ice cream enough to satisfy Derrik Filippo for two days.”  Well, may answer is this; since my freezer isn’t large enough to hold three pints of ice cream and since said pints must be consumed over the next four to six hours.

I’ve discovered something contrary to my generally affable nature towards children; there is nothing I find more irritating or obnoxious than a noisy child splashing around in a pool while I am trying to read.  Seriously, most times when I see a child running around playing tag or swimming in a pool I cannot help but smile, however, throw a good book in my hands and all of a sudden my good natured Dr. Jekyll turns into an ugly and brutish Mr. Hyde.  Ok, so maybe I didn’t beat the kid to death with a cane, but still…

One of these things is not like the other, one of these things just doesn’t belong.

Here’s a joke I didn’t have a place for: this morning, when commenting on the fact that our spotty internet connection had again failed, I made the statement, “We’re out of internet again.”  I’m really not certain what was going through my head…

Yesterday evening I went out to dinner with my two engineers from China (the kids).  As I was changing out of my work clothes I threw on a pair of shorts and grabbed a t-shirt from the top of the stack, as I did so some voice in the back of my mind (planted there by my wife, I’m sure) screamed, “No!  You can’t wear black with brown.”  At that point my logic processors overrode that little voice stating, “They’re unmarried engineers, they probably know less about color coordinating than you do, plus they will appreciate the humor behind a t-shirt relating F=MA and Darth Vader.”  As we sat down and began to enjoy our pizza we discussed the many differences between our home countries and Brazil.  It is surprisingly difficult to compare the taste of pizza in the US (since I have never been to China) to that of pizza in China (since my engineers have never been to the US) when the only common reference you have is pizza in Brazil.

So you know that little bit of juice left at the end whenever you finish eating a bowl of strawberries that had a little bit of sugar sprinkled across the top?  You know, the stuff where the flavor explodes in your mouth as you tilt the bowl and put it to your lips; the juice that is likely the chosen nectar of the angels in heaven?  I think I may have discovered that stuff sold wholesale in box form.  I purchased a box of strawberry juice not having very high expectations for the flavor, however, when I poured my first glass and saw that what came out had a viscosity closer to that of honey than water I knew it had to be good.  To be fair, I’m no longer certain that what I have purchased is meant to be drunk straight from the box; it may very well be intended for cooking purposes.  Oh well, that won’t stop me from finishing off the box with my plate of waffles this evening.

I’ll admit that this last week has been pretty tough, I’ve had a lot of free time on my hands and it is difficult not to start counting down the days, despite the fact that I am doing my best to desire to be here.  As I had my quiet time this morning this occupied much of my thoughts and I was a little bit startled by the conclusions I came to.  Since I arrived in Brazil I have done a lot of complaining, most of it only to myself, but complaining nonetheless.  I have complained about my pay, but that shouldn’t really matter because I am still more blessed financially than I would ever care to admit.  I’ve complained about the difficulties I’ve experienced in the different roles I have held on site, yet I constantly desire to be challenged in my work.  I’ve complained about how different things are, but I have built a life around embracing the things that are different.  I had a conversation with Leslie last night about something entirely different, yet the point that I made was more relevant now than ever, attitude plays a huge role in reality because it invariably alters your perception.

This is nothing new to me, but while I have frequently tried to put the best face on things… or at least a face that is tolerable, I have internally reveled in the “woe is me” mindset.  I wasn’t seeking pity, but I certainly didn’t go out of my way to avoid it.  The really funny thing is that I have a very good idea of just how good I have it.  I’ve seen a lot of the suffering that is in the world and while I may never have personally experienced it I am aware of much of the evil that goes on, yet despite this I’ve gotten my kicks by describing my little sob story to anyone willing to listen.  To those of you who have had to sit through my complaints (this includes myself, I cannot tell you how often I have had to sit here listening to myself complain), I sincerely apologize.

As an aside, I still stand behind everything that I have written, my writing is rarely, if ever, a genuine complaint about my surroundings, rather it is often a sarcastic comment about the differences in my life.  Was I really worried about a peanut butter shortage when the TSA confiscated my tubs last month?  No.  Would I have missed it?  Yes.  Would it have created the lifelong impact that I made it out to?  No, nor did I expect anyone to really believe it would.