Mike Donovan/Beastmaster is hiding in the air conditioner duct spying on Diana. She pulls a guinea pig out of the medicine cabinet, distends her jaw, and eats it whole...
"Visitor Supreme Commander John is relieved of his fake face by Julie Parrish during an international television broadcast..."
Robin gets teen-pregnant with a Visitor's baby, and tensions are high at the operating table to see what the baby (babies?) will look like...
Diana is trying to de-program Julie in the mood modulator conversion process. Julie is strong willed, but not strong willed enough to stay composed when a common household iguana bursts through the wall...
For my birthday, my friends bought me two hours of driving lessons. You're probably thinking, "Why? Haven't you been driving since you were about 11 years old, Halee?" Well, yes, I have been driving since I was a kid. But for some reason, all of the cars in my family always had automatic transmissions. So I never really fully learned to drive stick. There were a few failed attempts along the way, though...
Attempt #1: My Friend's Mom's Brand New Mazda - FAIL
My friend had "borrowed" her mom's new car to take it around and show it off to all of us. I'm not sure if the mom was aware of this show-n-tell road show, but I'm guessing not because I don't think we were more than 13 years old at the time. The friend let us all have a turn at driving. My turn was the shortest, probably because I couldn't ever get it out of first with the engine dying.
Attempt #2: My Boyfriend's Shitty Honda CRX - FAIL
My college boyfriend decided he wanted to try to teach me to drive his car. So there on the quiet streets of my trailer park, I attempted to drive his little CRX. I had a lot of trouble getting it out of first, and he was prone to heckling, so it ended with me yelling/telling the boyfriend and the car to go fuck themselves, and I walked home.
Attempt #3: My Brother-in-Law's Truck - FAIL
My brother-in-law let me practice in his truck out on the ranch. I have blocked out most of my memories about this, but I sorta recall a hill, and my inability to get over it, and getting pissed off and getting out of the car (probably while it was still rolling back down the hill) and refusing to ever attempt to drive a stupid ol' standard ever again.
Attempt #4: My Boyfriend's VW Golf - FAIL
I had plans to rent a car on a trip to Europe, and I was devastated to learn that there were no automatic rentals available where I was going. My boyfriend at the time decided to let me practice in his Golf. We headed to the huge parking lot by the light rail, and went through the basics. I sorta got it, but he kept flinching like I was hurting his transmission, which made me more tense, which made me drive worse, and it ended with me telling him and the car to go fuck themselves, and I walked home. (Notice I did not yell this time. I had matured.)
Attempt #5: My Rental Audi in Kuopio - FAIL
The reason I rented the car was because I had to get to Sonkajärvi, which is in the middle of nowhere in Finland. The only way to get there was to fly to the nearest city, and drive the rest of the way. I arranged for the rental car, and hoped that forcing myself to drive stick under pressure would just magically make me "get it". It went...okay-ish. Sorta. It was a nice brand new Audi and drove well, so I managed to make it to Sonkajärvi, only dying at a few stop lights. But then...
I got lost going back to the airport, and there was a point where I had to turn around in the middle of nowhere. Where I chose to turn around didn't look like there was any sort of hill, but there was. And after I got turned around, I could not get up the hill without the car dying and sliding back a few inches. Normally this would not be a problem, except behind the hill was a huge ditch that I would not have been able to get out of. It took me 15 minutes of trying, crying, sliding, pleading with God, crying, and more crying before I managed to get up the hill and out of there. I swore (for real this time) that I would never ever ever ever drive a stupid ol' standard ever ever again.
Attempt #6: My Birthday Driving Lesson - MAYBE WIN?
I think my friends are sick of me saying I can't help drive on road trips. So at my birthday party last week they presented me with a card saying I had two hours of lessons with Finland's most experienced and most international driving instructor. I outwardly smiled, and inwardly panicked. On the one hand it was a really clever and thoughtful gift, but on the other hand, I hate hate hate driving standard!!! This wasn't a gift, it was a punishment! The thought of layering a car I can't drive on top of crazy Helsinki city traffic and confusing Finnish traffic signs seriously stressed me out. I ducked the guy's calls for two days.
But I finally booked it, and today was the day. I was thinking he would drive me out to the forest or somewhere really isolated, so I was shocked when he made me get behind the wheel right then and there outside the office. My foot on the clutch was visibly and nervously spazzing. The first five minutes went a little like this (before the parallel parking bit):
In the very beginning, he seriously did make me pull over when a car was coming.
But after a few minutes when my jitters died down, and I found that the car handled really well and forgivingly, and that he was so calm and patient, I was fine. Not the smoothest ride ever, and of course I did stall a few times, but I even managed to make it up a hill from a cold start! We cruised around Lauttasaari and Otaniemi and Ruoholahti (did you Wunderboys and Wundergirls hear me honk at you?), and the hour flew by. We have a follow-up lesson in a week to practice driving in the city-center (eek!) and practice parking (hubba, hubba).
So I don't think I can honestly continue to declare: "I can't drive standard." I have officially upgraded to: "I can drive standard very timidly and shittily." Progress!
Approximately 5-25 times per day, I'm in a situation where I have to say the following, "Moi! Do you speak English?" And I'll get one of the following responses:
- 80% - "Yes, of course." - And they speak perfect English.
- 15% - "Only a little." - And they speak perfect English.
- 4.9% - "Only little." - And they speak decent English, we might have a tiny bit of trouble understanding each other or they might not know a word like "deductible", but overall we can communicate.
- 0.1% - "No." - And we invent an improvised sign language, or they go find someone who can speak English who can help me.
Today was one of those rare days where someone answered "no". I was taking a taxi to a client meeting, and I had to stop by our office first to pick up my colleague. With lots of gesturing, I managed to communicate that we were making two stops, and I was happy I pronounced the street name of our office well enough that I didn't have to write it for him. But I could tell that that two stop thing was confusing him a little bit, so I wanted to explain that we were stopping to pick up another passenger.
I know some basic words, and for a moment I thought I might be able to say, "I need to pick up my friend." But I didn't know how to say "pick up". And I forgot the "my". It came out:
"Tarvitsen ystävää."
Which means, "I need a friend."
Sigh... Finnish 3,389,462, Halee 0.
I am not really much of a sports fan. And certainly not a rabid sports fan. But last night I was surrounded by a lot of Finns frothing at the mouth with major hockey rabies.
The world hockey championships have been going on for the past few weeks, and it's been impossible NOT to be aware of what's been going on. It's all anyone talks about. The streets go empty when Finland's games are on because everyone is at home or at the bar watching on TV.
I actually watched a few games, voluntarily. And in one of those games, I saw one of the Finnish players completely defy all laws of physics to make this absolutely retarded sick goal against Russia. HE BALANCED THE F'IN PUCK ON THE BLADE/EDGE OF HIS STICK AND FLUNG IT INTO THE GOAL LIKE THIS, HOLY SHIT:
I'm still not sure if the Russian goalie knows what happened.
Finland ended up making it to the finals. And to add some bonus excitement, so did Sweden. Finland and Sweden are arch-rivals in everything, but most especially in hockey. And Finland has only won one world championship back in 1995, and has had the championship stolen by the Swedes a few times over the years since. Vince McMahon himself couldn't have scripted a better grudge match.
Last night I met a group of friends at the bar to watch the game. We had to arrive three hours early to make sure we had a place to sit, and within minutes after arriving, out of nowhere I suddenly found myself wearing a Suomi Lions hockey jersey and caring deeply about the game. The game itself was nerve-wracking, especially after Sweden scored the first goal. There was no reaction whatsoever from the crowd at the bar after that first goal, no moaning or cussing, just lots of very worried faces. Until Finland scored their first goal. Then it was nuts: screaming, hugging, kissing, kicking over beers, and...tears! People were so happy for that one goal that they got teary-eyed!
Then towards the end of the game, suddenly Finland was firing off goal after goal and the whole thing ended 6-1. !!! When the buzzer sounded around midnight-ish, that bar (and the rest of the city) went b-o-n-k-e-r-s:
- Strangers were hugging each other, which is absolutely unheard of in Finland.
- Everyone was singing and climbing on furniture.
- Some were literally hanging from the rafters at the bar.
- Outside, most of the people who had been in the bars were then in the street, and it was full-scale mayhem.
- Every single person was shouting or singing.
- Almost every single car was honking (I wanted to ask my taxi driver to honk, but I was afraid he'd charge me extra).
- People were driving down the street close the sidewalk holding their arm out the car window, high-fiving all the people they drove by.
- One guy was being pushed around in a shopping cart because he was too drunk to walk.
- Several others were so excited they would have to stop and vomit.
- And a few others had gotten nekkid and were running wild in the streets.
- And others jumped in the super-cold fountain in city center.
- Inexplicably, at the bar across the street from my place there was a ... drum jam?
Things died down a little bit today. But the boys were put on a chartered Finnair flight back to the celebrations in Helsinki this evening, and just when you thought it couldn't get better or more stereotypically crazy and Finnish, this happened:
I haven't formally started taking Finnish classes again, but I have been brushing up on my vocabulary. I know lots of words for food and sports and colors and animals and numbers and dog commands, but you really need more words than that if you want to talk to anyone over the age of 2. (Who is not a dog.) This weekend Sinttu was teaching me the words for body parts, and even though I had never learned those, it was funny how many I recognized as pieces of other words, and therefore sorta already knew. Hooray for learning by osmosis!
- käsi = hand - I accidentally already knew this from "käsivoide". Hand lotion!
- käsivarsi = arm - I didn't already know this one, but I will never ever forget it because "käsi" as you know is "hand", and "varsi" is stem / stick / handle. Hand handle!
- jalka = leg - I accidentally already knew this from "jalkapallo". Football! (Legball?)
- jalkaterä = foot - I didn't already know this one, and it's another funny little compound word that will be hard to forget. We know "jalka" is leg, but I did not know "terä", which is "blade". Your foot is a "leg blade"!? (These people ice skate too much if they're naming their own body parts after skating equipment.)
- varvas/varpaat = toe/toes - Let's ignore for a moment the fact that the word stem changes so completely when you make it plural. Let's also ignore that when I was struggling to remember the word for "leg", I came up with "varpaatvarsi", which is "toe handle". Which is wrong.
- polvi = knee - I didn't know this word. But my secret trick for remembering it deals with a brand of beer called Olvi. Remember when I puked on my knee? Well, "polvi" in my mind is a contraction of "puke" and "Olvi", or "p'olvi".
- korva = ear - I accidentally already knew this from "korvapuustit". Cinnamon buns, which are apparently cinnamon ears!
- hullet = lips - Whatever. There is nothing that interesting about this. What's interesting is the word for "lipstick", which is "hullipuna". Lip red!
- rinnat = breasts - Also not that interesting on its own, but "bra" is "rintaliivit". Breast vest!
My eyesight is crap. I wear contacts 96% of the time, so I usually only buy one pair of glasses every 3 or 4 years.
Until now. I have bought three pairs of glasses in the last two months. This is my friend John's fault. He told me about how he ordered a bunch of prescription glasses off the internet. They don't even ask for proof of your prescription, and you can get them DIRT ASS CHEAP. Learning that I could buy real, official, DIRT ASS CHEAP prescription glasses was awesome, because I had been wearing my $500 designer glasses while I watched TV in bed, and I was all worried that I was messing up their alignment. I decided to order myself a cheapass pair, that way it wouldn't matter if I fell asleep watching TV in my glasses, even if I slept on my face, because the glasses could be replaced for the cost of a 12 pack.
And since they were nighttime glasses, it didn't really matter what they looked like, so I decided to get the most ridiculous pair possible. And that was so much fun that I ended up buying two more pair.
Let's take inventory, shall we?
MY REGULAR CIVILIAN GLASSES, aka THE STUPID $500 ONES
I shouldn't say these are stupid. They're fine. I like them. The only thing that is stupid about them is how much they cost.
MY 1970s LESBIAN / SERIAL KILLER GLASSES (WITH 10% YELLOW TINT)
This was the first pair of cheapies that I bought. They cost $16.85, and $10 of that was because I opted for the anti-reflective coating and the yellow tinting. (In retrospect, I should have gone for 20%, maybe even 30% tint. I wanted them to look more like those hunting goggle glasses.) At first I couldn't look at myself in the mirror in these, but scarily, I've gotten so used to them that I actually kinda like them now and would probably even wear them in public. Perhaps this means I am a lesbian and/or serial killer??
MY SIDEWINDERS WHOSE SIZE WERE NOT ACCURATELY REPRESENTED ONLINE
On the website, where the product images of these glasses are just floating in space, these looked like a classic pair of 1950s Buddy Holly Sidewinders. You know the ones...the kind you needed for Halloween to play a nerd, so you'd just pop the lenses out of a pair of knock-off Ray Bans? Well, they are that general shape, but not quite that general size. These are 4-8 times larger than necessary. Every time I look in the mirror in these, I start hearing the intro drumming of "Hot for Teacher." And not because I think I look hot or teacherly, but because I look exactly like Waldo Van Halen. All for only $12.95.
MY LOG LADY / SALLY JESSE RAPHAEL GLASSES
I've been on a Twin Peaks kick lately, and even though it's not really the most original idea in the world, I'd really like to go as the Log Lady for Halloween next year. So I decided, "Why not get a pair of real prescription red glasses from zennioptical.com?" So I did. For $12.95. And if I'm over my Twin Peaks obsession by October, I can just go as Sally Jesse Raphael instead!
And no, Zenni Optical did not pay me any endorsement money for this post. YET.
When it came time to move some of my furniture from the storage facility to my apartment, Tanja came to the rescue and arranged movers for me. Big, strong, tall, Finnish off-duty firemen movers.
Here is an actual Finnish fireman in the wild...in
their annual beefcake calendar.
So there was much laughing and carrying on about my afternoon alone in a van with some mystery firemen. I was actually a little nervous, and then...
...as I saw the green van round the corner, my pulse raced. I suddenly found myself looking through the van window and into the deep blue eyes of Timo the fireman. In his deep Finnish accent he greeted, "Hello." Without breaking his peering gaze, I lowered my lashes and sultrily replied, "If you pull up to the doors, they will automatically open for you."Well, sorta. They could not have been more professional. Or less shirtless.
Timo passionately surged forward, and his van slowly, yet forcefully, entered my storage complex...
In my post yesterday with photos of the new apartment, I didn't go into any details about one of the unexpected things I had to buy. I knew I'd have to blow a small fortune on furniture and small appliances and kitchen supplies, but I did not expect to have to buy...light fixtures? And I don't mean table or corner lamps, I mean the ceiling mounted lights that come on when you flick the switch. Apparently it is the norm in Finland that renters provide their own light fixtures, and take them when they move out. Huh?
So that first week before I moved in and I was cleaning the place, I had to be sure to be out of here before sundown, because the only lights were in the bathroom and inside the refrigerator, which was not that helpful.
I have never in my life given any thought to ceiling mounted light fixtures, unless the bulb was burned out. They were just there, and spat out light. Then suddenly I was in the position where I have to care about these things deeply, and spend a few hundred dollars on them. The problem is that since I have never really thought about them much, I don't really have a strong opinion about them. So picking them out was way harder than it should have been.
Here's what I ended up with...
Hallway
Thank goodness Sinttu was shopping with me, or I would have been paralyzed by all the options. She recommended track lighting for the hallway, since you can adjust all the little lamps to point every which way. So these aren't all that fancy or exciting, but highly functional.
Bedroom
I chose this one because it was the least expensive one they had at Ikea. In the store, I thought it looked cheap and cartoonish and lame, but I thought the price tag looked great. But now that it's up, I like it and don't think it looks as dumb as I thought it would. Also, you can stand on the bed and put your head up in it like an old timey hair dryer, and/or a very elegant version of a Devo energy dome.
Kitchen
This looked like the kind of light fixture that would be hanging in a truck stop diner. And if there was ever a phrase to describe my personal style, I think "truck stop diner" is it.
Living Room
The light for the living room was the hardest to pick. My taste tends to be pretty plain, so I was turning my nose up at all the gaudy chandeliers and other overly complicated and sparkly options. Then this little guy jumped out at me. I liked him because he looked like a little cluster of 50s desk lamps. And even though I was poo-pooing the idea of a chandelier, I thought this was interesting because it was like a little industrial/mod chandelier. When we were trying to install it (thanks again, Sami and Sinttu!), there was no way to adjust the cords to get them out of sight. The instructions sucked, and they had no website. So we went the janky route and just knotted the cords up. At first I thought it looked really ridiculous and obviously a hack, but now I think it looks interesting and unusual. Maybe even nautical.
Knot-ical?
When I lived in Helsinki last year, I lived in a lovely little neighborhood called Töölö. (Lovely to visit, but difficult to pronounce.) It was quiet and quaint and close to a nice lake that I would walk around. The other day I was reading a book about Helsinki, and it described the typical Töölö resident as a "middle-aged middle-class female culture lover."
I wouldn't have minded living in Töölö again despite that slight bruise to my ego about being middle-aged, but I ended up finding a perfect place in a neighborhood called Kallio. Kallio's description in that same book is: "The transformation of Kallio from a dull working class district into a center of nightlife and creative collectives has been almost as rapid as the disappearance of cheap wines from the shelves of the Helsinginkatu Alko on welfare payment day." I also remember someone describing Kallio to me as the only place in town where you can find a rockabilly-only record store. Or score heroin. There is something for everyone in Kallio!
I'm going to like living in Kallio. (Bonus: I can pronounce it very convincingly!) This neighborhood is very very central with a ton of public transportation options, lots of bars/restaurants, and ... a Thai massage place on almost every corner? Hmm. Every third restaurant is a Thai place, too. What is going on?
Anyway, here is my building. I live on the 6th floor, and you can see my balcony on the top right of the first photo. (Whoa, I didn't realize I was on the penthouse, score!) My front door in the middle photo is not terribly inviting and looks more like a delivery dock, but maybe that will help keep out the riffraff from the Helsinginkatu Alko and Thai massage parlors. Once you go inside that grated door, you can veer left and go into a giant courtyard, or veer right and go through that glass door into the building.
Once you get to the sixth floor, there are four units. Mine conveniently has my name on it. But be careful not to accidentally knock on my neighbor's door. "Fatali orava" means "fatal squirrel" in Finnish. I have no idea who or what will answer, or what they will do to you.
Here is my living room. I made sure to buy a sofa sleeper for guests (hint, hint) and splurged on a very soft cushy rug. I'm not in love with the puke pink walls, but they'll have to do for now. Also, I have nothing to hang on the walls yet, other than that tiny, tiny painting of Gene Simmons. And strangely enough, the pink walls really complement his pink tongue, which makes me kinda want to keep the walls pink.
Now for the kitchen. If you know me or have ever visited any of my various homes, you know that I have a thing about my kitchen being all white and lime green. I think my kitchen in this apartment might be my favorite kitchen of all time. It's spacious, there are tons of cabinets, and it's all white white white and just begging for some lime green accents! I still need a rug and some curtains in there.
In the bedroom, the walls change from puke pink to sky blue. This room also needs a rug and some curtains. For now I have a makeshift curtain up, which is a Holly Hobby sheet from when I was 4 years old. It was that or foil, and I'm not sure which is trashier.
The bathroom is eleventy million times better than my other bathroom, which was approximately one square meter. This one is huge by comparison and has heated floors...and a Pink Panther sticker on the door? (Not pictured.)
So that's the new place! It's still pretty bare and echoes a little, so there is still a lot to do before it really feels homey. There is also a gigantic courtyard, with lots of grassy places to lay in the sun...but I decided not to include a photo of that because it is currently covered in snow and/or mud and doesn't look that nice.
I should end this with a shoutout to everyone who helped me get all set up: to Sinttu for driving me all over everywhere (twice) to buy most of this stuff, to Kati for selling me her old furniture at a stupidly good price, to Tanja for arranging firemen movers to help me (a dedicated entry on that will come later), to Sami for hooking up all the light fixtures, and most importantly...
...to Ikea for making all this possible.
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I haven't updated in a while, and now that I'm logging back into Movable Type I'm finding drafts of things that I never got around to finishing or publishing. So I think the only reasonable thing to do is just post all of these things, totally out of context and totally unfinished, with little to no explanation. This is from April 2009.
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Once upon a time in the wilds of suburban Canada, two teenagers made a pact. Not with the devil, but with each other. The pact was to rock. Forever.
These two teenagers are now in their fifties. They are still rocking.
"Anvil! The Story of Anvil" is a documentary about their
