Thursday, January 07, 2010

What do you mean this post is poorly-written, random, and full of tangents that make no sense? I think it's just fine, apple naked noodle pool frogs!

I went on yesterday morning to find out exactly how many layers of clothes I would need to pile on before heading out to Epcot. (Answer: 73) When I pulled up the site, I noticed this:

Are they stalking me? See how subtle they are, all "e.g. Disney World", like "Oh no, we aren't stalking you or anything, we just happened to suggest the place here you live and work and are going to lunch today." STALKERS.

The reason for my weather related inquiry was that I had lunch plans with a big group from work, and needed to know if I was going to freeze to death on the 10 minute walk from where I park to the restaurant.

You should probably know that pretty much ALL of my cold weather clothes are still in Missouri. Actually, pretty much all of my stuff in general is! Furniture, books, dvds, tv, cat, you name it, it is sitting in boxes back home. (Minus the cat. She is too big to put in a box.) I moved out here with exactly two suitcases plus one car load of stuff, and mom has mailed out a couple of small boxes in the two years since, but in general, that's still pretty much all I have. As a result, I was pretty selective in which clothes I brought; Sweaters? Who needs em in Florida? Well, this week, me! I do!!

I have exactly three sweatshirts and one sweater in this state, and all of the above are dirty. And I am out of laundry detergent. And will not be able to afford more for at least a couple of weeks. (Try not to be too jealous of how awesome my lifestyle is. Also, if you happen to be the maker of a fragrance-free laundry detergent, now would be an AWESOME time to send me your product to review!!) I have to admit that I am still kind of getting over the disappointment that, given that I live at Disney World, small forrest animals do not swoop into my house on a weekly basis and do my laundry for me in a refreshing song and dance number with bubbles. At least the little bluebirds to still show up to help me do my hair on a pretty regular basis.

But back to my lack of clothes. Oh, crap, now you are picturing me naked, aren't you? Stop that! Unless you are Ewan McGreggor, in which case go right on ahead. And then call me.

Wait, did this blog have a point?

Oh, yes! It was cold. And Florida people do not know how to do cold. We look at our flip-flops and try to decide which would be the warmest. Which one of my t-shirts has the thickest fabric?

So I started to do the "maximize warmth at all costs!" thing, with lots and lots of layers, but then the Bellydancer Gene kicked in. There seems to be this genetic thing among bellydancers that attracts us to shiny things. We should be kept away from bedazzlers and bead sales. Does it glitter? Let's stick it on my bra and dance around! Whee! Even though I haven't technically preformed or done classes in years, the bellydancer gene still lies dormant, drawing me to big dangly coin earrings, and tribal-looking jewelry.

Basically, if I had my choice, I would go to work every day looking like this:

Well, maybe not work, but still. How awesome is the giant kuchi pendant in her hair?

Basic point: we like to decorate ourselves, all shiny shiny. And lunch yesterday was a Moroccan restaurant, with a bellydancer, so I had to return to my natural state! The closest I could come up with was a glittery paisley-print tank top, with my khaki colored jacket on top, with my giant leather coat over all that. Plus big earrings, and my boots that are literally falling apart, but were my only closed-toe option that were not either a) high heels, or b) toe socks with flip-flops.

How did this turn into a post about what turned out to be a boring outfit? I need an editor. Anyway! We had lunch at Restaurant Marrakesh, in Morocco, at Epcot.

(This is totally not my photo. Found it on flickr, here.)

The manager came out and talked to us for quite a while, and told us that they would be bringing us a sampler of some of the menu's offerings, which I was kind of thankful for because I hadn't been able to decide what I wanted to order. We had two or three waiters working our table (gotta love being VIP's!), one of which was from Casablanca, so I think I deserve major credit for not making any Rick's Cafe jokes to him. Another one, who I think was from Tangier, unless it was Fez, had FIVE language tags on his nametag. If you are new around here, I should explain that I am a language nerd. I eventually want to be fluent in at least a dozen languages, so I love talking to people who speak some of the same ones I do. A coworker and I recently totally bonded over both speaking French and Swahili (and I think the fact that I was the only person to ever ask him if he was from Republic of Congo or Democratic Republic of Congo, since his nametag just says Congo. I think he was more pleased that I actually knew things about DRC, too.) Anyway (This post might win an award for most unneccessary tangents ever!), I made a comment to Six Language Dude (the five on his nametag plus English), but he just kind of said "yeah", and handed us bread. Sadness!

We had giant chunks of bread, which we all gobbled up pretty quickly, and then were served plates with couscous, vegetables, and both beef and chicken shish-ka-bobs. I'm not as big meat eater (that's what she said!), but I was a fan of the couscous. I still have pretty much no appetite from having just spent 6 weeks home sick, so most of my entree ended up in a handy to-go box. They also brought us out trays of baklava, both almond and pistachio. I love pistachios, and gobbled up the sweet square of nutty goodness with joy. Too bad I couldn't get an extra box of THAT to go!

I found an updated Marrakesh menu here if you are interested.

So, here is the weird thing about the people I work with: We actually LIKE each other. This is a very good thing, since we see WAY more of each other than we see of our friends or family. Like any group, there are people you get along with better than others, but it's nice to be able to go out with coworkers, and have it feel pretty much exactly like being out with your other friends.

We posed for a picture by the fountain near the restaurant, which we flagged down some poor unsuspecting but awesome tourist to take, with three different cameras:

Observe: people who do not own warm clothing, trying to look warm. Note my awesome coat over jacket ensemble. That plus jeans that are two sizes too big for me only add about fifty million pounds to this photo.

I thought our outing was over at this point, as we all meandered back to the van, but I found out they had also arranged for us to get to go ride Soarin' with no wait! SCORE!

If you are not a Disney person, Soarin is a ride at Epcot that opened a few years ago, but is so astoundingly popular that the waits are always pretty crazy, and the fastpasses run out fast. I hardly ever ride it because I am way too impatient for lines, so getting to ride with everyone was great! I love Soarin, I love the music, and the smell of oranges as you fly over the orange groves, and trying to kick the people in the boats near the beginning of the movie, since my feet are already aimed at them. And this time I got to obnoxiously talk through the whole thing with my "little brother" Mike, who I should probably never be allowed in a theme park with again, because we would probably get kicked out, fast.

Here, have some Soarin'. It's not the same without being able to feel the movement and breeze, and smell the sea and oranges, but at least you get the music!

And so ended our afternoon at Epcot. I guess I could have made this post a lot shorter. Maybe I should go back and just say "It was cold. I don't have warm clothes. Yay, bellydance! We ate lunch in Morocco and rode Soarin." Maybe someday, I will learn to write, but don't count on it anytime soon.

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