about me______________
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The Jackass ChroniclesBAI'm back! It's really, really hard to conduct business in Spanish all day long, every day. The D&T resources from Buenos Aires were not the crackerjack English speaking dynamos we had hoped for. In fact, only Pablo spoke excellent English and Jill snatched him up right away, which was good for everyone involved since Jill's Spanish was HORRIFICALLY BAD. She insisted on using the Castillian Spanish pronounciation (I have no idea why she chose that since she's never been in an actual Spanish class with a Spanish Spanish teacher) and the poor Argentinians were completely mystified with her "grathias" and "thenor" and myriad other awry pronounciations. It was like Sylvester the cat trying to speak Spanish. So she got Pablo to help her and I got Mercedes who is currently taking English classes and was a real trouper. She was a lot of fun actually. She took me out on the town a couple of times but each time it was embarrassing because she's this teensy tiny, 5 foot tall, 80 pound hobbit who also happened to be gorgeous. I felt like Shrek next to her in all my 5'8" glory.I couldn't have too many late nights out because I couldn't bear the thought of trying to ask Fabio and Hector about accounts receivable aging buckets in Spanish with a hangover, but I made it out over the weekend for a humdinger of a night/morning. At the bar at 4:30AM I ask, "what time does this bar close?" "What?" "This bar--what time does it close?" "I do not understand" "When do they stop serving beer here?" "When the last person wants to leave" Stumbling out of a bar with 6 of your new Argentinian best friends as birds are chirping and the sun has RISEN, in a country so far away that you actually had no idea it was that far away until you looked at a map at the airport, while singing Beatles songs, equals a bitchin' night. Too bad that night required you to bail on Jill at the 11 am meeting time. She went out on her own, planning on meeting you at 2 for lunch instead and promptly got mugged. Poor Jill. I'll spare you all the tourist crap and just tell you that I got some, ate way too much meat, used my brain more in those two weeks than I think I've ever used it in my whole life, and bought armloads of Lacoste clothing for dirt cheap. The worst part of my return? Jill has been sending me emails in her HORRIFICALLY BAD Spanish, mangling spellings and accents (IT'S CTRL+SHIFT FOR A TILDE, YOU WHORE!) and generally killing my spirit one grathias at a time. It's not cute or clever or even good practice--just stop it now. Wading through her Spanglish for 10 minutes just to find out she's almost done with a spreadsheet makes me want to shiv her over and over and over again.
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