Innuendo Has Her First Plane Ride

So it has been awhile since I have posted. Now is the time. Since the last one was pretty gross I decided to continue the grossness, but this time I am the perpetrator. Please read on.

Before August of 2012 I had never been on a plane in my life. My first experience on planes was a trip from the American Midwest to Copenhagen... Denmark. I had a 16 hour trip ahead of me (granted there was a 6 hour layover in Toronto). Overall the trip went well although if I hadn't run into other students I never would have made it there, because airports are unnecessarily confusing.

Anyway, my first flight was only 2 hours and it was not the best first flight. It was a very small plane with a lot of turbulence. I felt crowded and it was a ridiculous idea to move. Ever. I called it the Janky Plane, because it reminded me of an old school bus that I used to ride. Which I called The Janky School Bus because it wasn't magic, it was jank. So that was highly discomforting, but believe it or not I remained calm. The next flight had little to no turbulence... but guess who had the middle seat in the middle aisle. Don't guess, it was me. There was 8 hours of no sleeping because I was taller than both people sitting next to me and I was afraid I would crush either of them if I leaned too far in one direction. Additionally, my headphones didn't work so I watched "We Bought a Zoo" in staticky silence, albeit that was probably a blessing in disguise.

After we landed in Copenhagen I was very very excited, but as soon as we exited the baggage claim they eschewed us into a hallway that we were supposed to wait in for our buses,  I waited in that hallway for three hours. Tired, hungry, and sweaty because despite all that we had been told it was actually quite hot in Copenhagen at the time and like a good girl I was wearing a warm blazer, I'm about as happy as a lobster in a pot without even the dignity of some butter.

When we finally get to our bus it is another 45 minutes before we leave for our respective kollegiums and another 45 until we actually make it the incredible distance to our kollegiums. By now I'm not feeling so hawt, as the kids say, BUT I HAVE ADRENALINE FOR DAYS. That first night sleeping was strange. Even though I went to bed immediately, right after some mandatory social events and ice-breakers and avoiding alcohol, I fell asleep easily I woke up quite often and when I woke up in the morning nothing felt right. Pish Posh I'm abroad! And I'm a senior!! LET'S DO THIS!!! (Notice how I didn't say YOLO out of respect for myself).

The next day we spent most of the time traveling around downtown Copenhagen by foot. It's hot and there is a lot of walking to be done, but boy is it exciting! Look at that! Look at that! Can't you tell I'm a tourist?!

There was a lot of movement that day and I wasn't very hungry. That evening we had a bit of a study abroad party and invited residents from our floors. As I tried desperately to not be overly American I found that it was a good time! I was still riding that adrenaline high and I had a beer, because why not? And then some kollegium-mates went out downtown, it's a Tuesday night, but why not? While I'm out I have another beer. I don't even like beer, but hey WHY NOT? A beer and a half can't hurt, I'm a senior in college I've run the gauntlet.

I become tired and not so happy after just a short while so I split a cab home. I barely make it into bed before I am completely knocked out. I still don't sleep very well, but better than the previous night.

When I wake up in the morning I feel nothing like P. Diddy (Ke$ha you lying little...). When I stand up to get ready for the days fun-filled events I know immediately that I have to vomit.

I run to the toilet and my body explodes through my mouth. Everything is leaving me over and over again. There is nothing left, but there's somehow more. OH GOD HOW IS THERE MORE??

I don't have a headache and I don't feel hungover, this is like nothing I have ever experienced.

The vomit continues.

Finally it ends and I feel so much better, but emptier than a black-hole with a leak.

"Phew" I say to myself  "I'm so glad that is over"

I'm afraid to eat too much so I cautiously have some water to re-hydrate and one rice cake.

One rice cake. Just one.

I'm feeling decent as I leave the Kollegium looking fresh and ready. The day begins.

Today we are learning about budgeting time management and grocery shopping. As the lesson continues I start to feel worse and worse. My stomach is rejecting the single rice cake that I ate for some sort of sustenance since I had barely eaten since I got to Copenhagen. My body hates me and I am sitting listening to people talk about class schedules.

I use my quickly deteriorating observation skills to try and locate a nearby bathroom without looking suspicious. There is one, but it is directly attached to the room where the lecture is taking place. I couldn't use that because you could hear everything that happened in there (I know because someone used it...ew). I couldn't have everyone hear me vomit on the second day of study abroad that would send a very misleading message about my lifestyle also I WOULD HATE TO EMBARRASS MYSELF, because that would suck right?

So I decided to torture myself and wait it out. I am losing my vision as the lecture draws to an end. I just barely catch our assignment, which is to go out and locate different food options and while we are out there pick up some lunch.

... Food? No.
NO.

I am losing it... luckily we are being assigned to our groups at this point. I am assigned to a group of all guys. Uhh ok this means that I will have to slip away casually into a public restroom BECAUSE THEY ARE SO ABUNDANT IN EUROPE. I know I must look pretty hunched over and sickly but I try to play it off. As we are walking there is just no possible way I can hold back anymore. I am going to blow, and for a second I think about using a public trashcan but my pride said no.

But there are literally only seconds left so I mumble to the fellas that I am in need of a restroom if they could wait just a sec and I run into the nearest coffee shop. I will always remember the name: "The Big Apple." Named after an American city. It's all just too much.

As I walk down the steps I try to look calm as I make eye contact with the smiley young man behind the counter, as I notice there is no one else in the shop. I calmly begin to tell the young shopkeeper

"Where is the- BLAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGHHHHHHHHHH"

Right in the middle of my sentence I projectile vomited all over the floor. It was... just everywhere. There was some sort of miscommunication. My mind knew that there were further steps to take and my body seemed to think that my speech was unnecessary. In the end the two decided that the important thing was to terrorize this poor man and release a demon in fluid form upon this very specific spot of earth.

The look of horror on that young man's face is something that I will never forget. It was true fear and absolute disgust at the same time. You can't fake that. I imagine my face mirrored his expression as I covered my mouth and shook my head in apology. His look changed to a resigned and mournful look, he did not want his day to start like this.

Neither did I.
I had been so close to making it. So close.

Oh, I'm sorry. I thought Danish men liked women to come on strong.

The only action he takes is to point at the stairs. I quickly run up and proceed to vomit five more times. Because apparently one rice cake was just too much. So now when people ask me about my limits I can say "Oh you know the average... one and a half beers and a rice cake."

I tried to be clean, but... there was no way. So to spare him anymore pain I cleaned up as much as I could... and I cleaned up myself because I was not spared in my stomach's onslaught either. Eventually I shamefully made my way downstairs. He had just finished wiping up the floor I apologized profusely and he just shooed me out, it was insistent, but it wasn't cruel. It was what he needed... to never see my face, or it's awful ability to spew acid in every direction, again. This I understood. As I walked outside the world was calm, I felt as though I had been in there for hours, but my group didn't seem fazed. To this day I don't know if they knew what had happened, but they never let on.

Needless to say on our restaurant adventure I didn't get any food. And when we got back to the lecture room to share what we learned there was more food to feast on. I did not take part. In fact the experience was so traumatic I didn't eat for two days and barely ate for two weeks and I didn't drink for about the same amount of time.

 I shamed myself for drinking at first, but soon I realized that it probably wasn't the one and a half beers that i had, but most likely the jet lag and the increase in adrenaline for so long. There were way too many factors and even without the beers something very similar would likely have happened.

Something good to know is that I got ahold of myself and didn't vomit again for the rest of the semester... as far as I can recall.

Either way I'm not telling anyone about it. I have had enough. No more bodily fluids in this blog, at least for awhile y'all. This ish is disturbing.

Innuendo Does Normal Things and Then Regrets Ever Having Left Her Room

This a post filled with awful stories about gross things that have happened to me. You have been warned. This wasn't my idea, I am deflecting responsibility. I decided on writing this post by popular demand. Plus, I have done you all a favor by putting all of this in one post. Now you can forever avoid it, if you like, and I would recommend it that you do.

This isn't just hard on the reader, believe me these memories are awful to dredge up. I actually had to drink a glass of wine (approximately) just to write this. Everyone please buckle your seat belts and pull out your paper bags because this could be nauseating.

There is no way to start out easy... so let's start with:

Innuendo Goes to a Dinner Party

It's a Friday or Saturday night (I don't remember I tried to block this memory out, you can thank KimKim for the reminder) and I was trying desperately to get the group's favorite wine for the festivities (BOOJOLAYYYY! ). I ran to the nearby grocery store and couldn't find it anywhere and I ended up missing the bus. "Damn" I said to myself "I'm going to be late." As if that was the worst of my worries, ahaha!

Anyway, I walked to the nearest bus stop to wait for the next bus which would come in about 20 minutes. "That isn't too bad," I said to myself "I won't be awfully late and I'm just bringing the wine." When I got to the bus stop I made a move to sit on the bench when, suddenly, I see it. The light from the nearby lamppost glistens off of a large pool of spit. The largest pool of saliva that I had ever seen.

Let me interject for a moment to explain just how momentously awful this was for me.  I hate saliva. I hate it with ever fiber of my being. It disgusts me beyond sanity. Spittle, is my worst enemy. When people spit I get motion sickness. I have an immediate gag/regurgitate reaction whenever I see it or think about it. Saliva is so vile to me I don't even speak about it. Except for now, to tell you this.

So I looked at the largest pool of saliva that I had ever seen and I immediately wanted to gag. I don't think anyone can truly understand the size of what I saw that night, which was the most disturbing part because it was more of a puddle than anything else... it had depth. DEPTH.

Unfortunately, there was no escape from it because it was just sitting there, glistening. I thought glistening was supposed to be beautiful...

I moved to the very edge of the bus stop to wait as minutes upon minutes pass by.  I was getting sicker by the moment when a young man approached the bus stop and sat at the bench. I didn't look to see if he stepped in the spit I just moved towards the trash can because I knew what was coming.

Although for awhile I was very afraid, it seemed that just facing the other direction was helping tremendously and I began to feel better.

When a car pulled up to the bus stop.

A man got out from the driver's seat and quickly strode to the side of the car next to the sidewalk where he opened the door to the backseat. There was a young child inside, maybe three or four, and they looked very unwell. Very very unwell. The man stood outside of the car simultaneously facing and blocking the child for a minute or so. Although I was still standing next to the trashcan I had become so distracted that I was almost recovered, when the man turned in my direction with a plastic bag and briskly walked toward me.  I thought maybe he would ask for directions, but instead he brushed past me with an open plastic bag filled with vomit while he clutched vomit-covered paper towels in his hand.

I will interject again to explain that vomit is the second thing that I just cannot handle. When I see someone regurgitate, I want to regurgitate. I can't help it. It doesn't amuse me, or anger me, I won't even judge someone, I will just want to vomit as well. Vomit is the very closely related cousin of saliva.

So when this man moved past me with baby puke, which I must say is exponentially worse than adult puke, I got a suffocating dose of throw-up particles in my nose and the overwhelming sight of the sloshing bag and the green-tinged paper towels pushed me way too far. The man just dumped these filthy baby stained items in the public trash can and didn't tie up the bag. Then he drove away with his obscene smelling child and left me with an atrocious situation. The bag was way too full for that kind of behavior. The vomit just sat there, in the plastic bag, in the trash can, all pool-like. But at least it didn't glisten.

I was surrounded. On one side was the fairy-tale sized spit puddle and on the other side an overly digested and malodorous baby puke. I was stuck in my nightmare. MY NIGHTMARE. My stomach was convulsing and I must have blacked out because the next thing I remember is the bus pulling up and then making the effort to dramatically hobble toward the bus. Finally, I've reached a safe place. I walk up to the open doors and reached the steps when \ suddenly I was hit by a wall of odor so strong I almost fell back out of the bus. The bus driver must have thought I was seriously drunk. I finally stumbled onto the bus still in shock when I realized what had just happened: I had walked through the exact place where that child had vomited outside of the car.

I sat on the bus for the next 45 minutes sitting with my face pressed against the window and breathing heavily. Needless to say, no one sat next to me.


Innuendo Does Laundry

This one is short and tragic. One day, in Denmark, I decided to do my laundry. Which seems normal, but evidently is enough provocation for mischief and horror. Anyway, the laundry was located in the basement, which I was very happy for because I never had to leave the building. How fortunate.

I had a load of some of my favorite shirts that I wanted to wash and I absentmindedly threw it into the washer and put on the correct settings. I ran upstairs and watched a 30 minute episode of Community (obvi). I ran back down to get my laundry before someone took it ( LIKE THEY TOOK MY COAT, #^%$*&%) and began to unload the laundry into my bag. They were all hang dry/lay flat to dry which was irritating, but in this case turned out for the best because when I looked at my clothes as I was hanging them I saw that the white shirt had dark stuff all over it. And so did the blue shirt and even the black shirt looked fuzzier than normal.

Strange. Very strange.

So I got out my handy lint roller and set to work on my favorite shirts. However, as I was on the floor rolling the crap out of these shirts, I got a closer look and the "stuff" which was definitely hairs. Are they cat hairs? Dog hairs? No one is supposed to have a pet... Plus they are kind of curly to be animal hair, and not really tightly enough curled to resemble hair that would come from someone's head. I kept inspecting. I don't know why, some sick curiosity drove me. The hair seemed very brittle.There were so many and they were a strange length. Oh God. OH GOD. NO, no, no, no, NOOOOO.

There is no way.

It was definitely pubic hair. I don't know how and I don't know why. But there were very few reasons that I would find myself with my laundry looking like this in this Kollegium other than it being pubic hair. I began to lint roll frantically and with all of my energy, but to no avail. It was just too stuck into the fibers. There was no way.  I washed my hands about a thousand times and I threw away all of those shirts.

I just... I can't talk about this anymore.

Innuendo Takes a Walk Downtown with Friends

I am going to preface this entire story with the fact that Copenhagen does not have free public restrooms.
Yeah, it this story is like that.

So I was with my friends in downtown Copenhagen and we had just visited a bakery for some tasty pastries. As we walked down a very well-trafficked street where our school is located it is actually pretty sunny and bright and clear for a winter afternoon. We are in good spirits. As we are about to cross an intersection to get to our school we notice that there is a man with his back to us and his front to a building across the street. At first we wondered what he was doing and then he twisted a little and we realized he was peeing very openly (and taking his sweet time) on the building which we often pass to get to classes.  I am definitely disturbed, but it is nothing I haven't seen before. Although usually it isn't in broad daylight, in the afternoon, while people are walking past, next to one of the busiest streets in the area.

Whatever, it is still a lovely day and we just had pastr-

"Don't look!" I hear someone say. I'm confused because we had already passed the peeing dude and what else horrible could be happening. So I turn to look.

Which was a life-changing mistake because when I did look I saw a woman with her pants pulled down defecating on the sidewalk.

def·e·cate

  [def-i-keyt] verb (used without object)

1.

to void excrement from the bowels through the anus; have a bowel movement.

She was defecating on the sidewalk.

I'm sorry I need another drink.



Ok so she is defecating right in front of us on the sidewalk. Just pooping. Right there. Not only was that offensive, but she was also talking to herself and she had located herself where just about anyone could see her.

There was no missing her unless you actually listen to someone who says "don't look" which really isn't what most people do. Anyway, what really got me about this whole situation, what really shocked and awed me, other than the crapping, was the fact that she actually had napkins with her specifically in preparation for this moment when she decided to poop in the sidewalk. She wiped herself. In public, she wiped herself.

I was beyond reason. Everyone was like "Why did you look?" And I was all like "gag gag splurt gag" because I almost lost all the pastry that I had just eaten. I almost did if it wasn't for the calming words of my friends. I was pretty much out of commission for the rest of the day especially when it came to food. In fact I'm not feeling so well right now...

~~~~~~~~~~~

How did I even write this post? These are not all of the gross stories that I have. These are just the worst. There are many more, some even involving me. Those I would only share by VERY VERY popular demand... and possibly a fifth of vodka.

Thanks for taking the time to read and sorry if I made you sick.

Innuendo Meets a Baby

This is an old story and many have heard it and two people who might be reading this were there. You know who you are, but you never have to admit it. I'm only doing it for entertainment's sake.

One day two of my friends, a lady and a fellow, and I decided to take a trip to the local science center for a fun day of interactive learning. We were in our 20's, but that is beside the point. We walk in confidently from the heat to lovely air conditioning and to find many children running around and enjoying the activities and educational  fun. In order to disguise ourselves in this new habitat we cleverly decided to run around "acting" excited and touching everything. Eventually, after talking crap to the animatronic dinosaur and forcing little kids to wait as we messed around with puzzles that were more difficult for us than they should have been, we decided to take a break and view one of the hourly science shows.

Today they were going to light things on fire. We liked this. We liked this a lot. There was a pretty big audience, mostly made up of 6-13 year olds. This did not deter us, especially when we saw a mom with her 2 year old in her arms. Although I was intrigued by the adorable baby, I was distracted because the show about fire, and science stuff, was what had my attention. As the show began there was some introductory explanation to what they were going to do and of course as background they asked the audience questions. One of the questions they asked was so easy that the three of us didn't even bother to answer: "What are the different states of matter?

Pfft... easy peasy solid, liquid, and gas. Duh. So we let the kids answer.

After all of the states had been said. The presenter then asked: "But what is the fourth one?"

You said what? Fourth what? You said excuse me what huh?

THERE IS A FOURTH STATE OF MATTER??? WHAT IS LIFE? WHO I AM? GAH!

The kids in the audience were speaking amongst themselves. They can't seem to remember the fourth one. I look at my friends dumbstruck and they look equally confused. I am so distraught by this I can't shut my mouth. I can't even pretend like I'm thinking or I know what the hell she is talking about because my mind has just been blown. Then out of freaking nowhere the 2 year old baby, yes I said it, THE 2 YEAR OLD BABY looks at the presenter from the mother's arms and says, quietly and calmly "Plasma."

No, it's fine baby. I just went through four years of college for kicks.

And the presenter, very effectively looking nonchalant about the amount of strange that just occurred, says: "correct". I looked at my friends for reassurance that they had just heard what I had just heard and that this wasn't a heat stroke delusion, but in fact a baby just went all scientist on us. All I could think of was that I had taken a college level biology class taught by people with doctorates and that baby hadn't even been introduced to Dr. Seuss yet. It wasn't a weird heat dream, it was real and I felt like both crying in a corner and stealing that baby for research at the same time.


After that there was no going back to every day life. In my day Pluto was a planet and there were three states of matter. Too much had just happened at once and my life had changed too dramatically. A baby had just upstaged all of us in a building that we had been to a thousand times before about a subject we have studied for 16 years or more.

After that, the presenter proceeded to set a tornado on fire, but I just couldn't get into it.

Thanks a lot, baby.

An Old Story About An Even Older Story

So I have a little story to share, and you might enjoy this. As I was packing up my things from home a couple weeks ago I was digging around some of my boxes of sentimental crap and I found some of my old school work. Like really old school work.

One of my favorites was what was supposed to be an assignment about the Mayflower. I was supposed to write a journal in the perspective of a settler on the Mayflower's journey to the new world. What actually happened was basically the cliff notes version of any Shakespearean tragedy dramatically condensed, placed in an 8 year-olds somewhat disturbing imagination, and lacking follow through or closure. Additionally, seems that I had no concept of what actually happens on ships.

I will share some highlights of the story now. It's starts out a little slow, but bear with it because it gets... different. Disclaimer: I am staying true to the original spelling and grammar because I think it keeps the integrity of the work (lol... integrity).

My Mayflower Adventures

SEPTEMBER 5th 1627

Hello my name is Gretchen. 
I am from Holland. 
Right know I'm boarding the May-Flower this is going to be really exciting! 

SEPTEMBER 8th 1627

Yesterday I found other kids. They aren't exciting, but they're something. 
On September 6th I found two cats and played with them too; but to be honest, the cats were better than the kids.

SEPTEMBER 16th 1627

My mom got seasick because she was in the room too much. 
She might die!

SEPTEMBER 24th 1627

My mother is doing much better now. 
However, my father had a knife which a strange man stole, 
The man went crazy and cut my father with the knife then jumped over board. 

SEPTEMBER 28th 1627

Father is still in bad condition, but he is still talkitive. 
All the kids are pretty upset about being in the ship still. 
Everything bad seems to have to do with me.

OCTOBER 14th 1627

Today, my mom and dad read the Bible all day and made me read it for five hours since I didn't read it last week. 
I told them I had read this part, but they just told me to read it again.

OCTOBER 22th 1627

I have the fluenza. 
So I can't play anymore and I don't know what's going on. 
 I think I will die.
Life is horrible.

NOVEMBER 1st 1627

My mother has gone crazy. 
She thinks I'm a three-headed dragon and that father is a caramel cake.

*Spoiler alert* we never find out if the mother becomes sane again or if Gretchen is cured from "the fluenza" or if the father ever gets an infection from being sliced open by an unstable settler.

I don't think I should share anymore, but I can tell you that a large segment of the journal was spent talking to/about a cat that Gretchen found on the boat. Eventually the poor girl gets off the craziest ship in existence and lands in the Americas or whatever. But seriously, I'm pretty sure no one else in the 4th grade class had everyone in the story go insane by the end of the journal.

I did get a good grade on the journal, but my teacher wrote this comment at the front of it:

Interesting details about the trip

Very creative

I think she added it as a way of trying to address the absurdity of the story, but I'm glad she could see past the historical inaccuracies to get to the important part which was ummm... the violence? The oppressive nature of religion during that time? The susceptibility to illnesses? The mental instability of the settlers?

In the end it is kind of nice to look back at your own imagination. Although at first when I found it again I was confused and doubtful that I could have ever wrote something like that, it is oddly reassuring now that at some point and in some context I was "very creative" in my own distinctive way.

I think I have said too much already so I will end this, thanks for bearing with a very strange flashback into my life. I'm probably going to take a nap. Everyone stay away from the fluenza ok? That ish is dangerous.