Back to the Old Grind

I know, I know, I'm late as usual. Been a mad week. I think Mr. Boss Man subconsciously wanted to punish me for the week in Paris, even though I made good by hunting HALF the city for his 14 month old nephew's asthma medicine. Because I'm good-hearted like that.

Right, so the week consisted of food, shopping, walking, shopping, food, and a tiny bit of sight-seeing, mainly to places I haven't managed to see before (grace a Tinkerbell being able to call Paris home). Highlight of the trip: Roonies being left to her own devices in a shop and managing the following sentence, "je ne com pom prom pas!" 

Personal highlight: Roonies being completely dependant on my French :P LOVE IT. Complete domination is the way I like to roll. 

Sadly, it flew by, meaning I was back at my hole in the wall with a laptop attached to my tireless fingers before I knew it. Damn you, Father Time. Couldn't you hit pause or something? 

On a side note, the flight back was the longest, noisiest, most irritating flight I have ever been cursed enough to endure. Take one screaming child, add 4 hours of being in a confined space with it and no chance to escape, and you'll catch my drift. I won't say more because I am trying to block that experience out of my memory forever.

Anyway, Mr. Boss Man had me working on a model all week. Only for JP Morgan to send us the same thing as I was wrapping mine up. This meant I had to totally rework mine in accordance to theirs. Double the work, same amount of time. Stupid assflickers. Of course at an investment bank, you have 5 people working on the model. Where I am, you have little old me, and an ancient internet connection with half the internet blocked by our tyrannical IT department. Exactly. No NY Magazine, no Dlisted, no Fbook. Nothing to help the research and number crunching flow. 

But enough of that. I'm sure Mr. Boss Man has turned into a boring and repetitive issue to you by now. Unfortunately, he is the person I see most often, which is why he features so prominently here. Sorry folks. 

Right. In order to combat my recurring bouts of writer's block, I will open the floor to questions from my adoring public. Ask me anything, so long as it isn't perverted, and I will be happy to post an entry answering your questions. 

Bracing myself!

Let's Try It Again, Shall We?

After last winter's failed attempt at landing in Paris, a second try is now upon us. Roonies and I will be flying to Paris tomorrow morning, and will be back on Saturday evening. 

How did I manage such a feat after a month off in London, you ask? By catching Mr. Boss Man off guard with puppy eyes, a whimper, a sad little smile, and after an extremely long day at the office. I think he was so apprehensive after my intro that he was relieved into submission by the actual request. The conversation went something like this:

It is 8pm and we are wrapping up a project. 

Eureka: Mr. Boss Man? I have a really really awful request and, seriously, if it'll upset you even a decimal point of a percent, just say no, and I'll completely and totally understand. [Insert big watery eyes, raised eyebrows, and scared smile here]

Mr. Boss Man: Whoa, what's up? 

Eureka: Well, my friend is going to Paris next week and invited me along, and since accommodation is free, I thought it wouldn't hurt to ask. But if it's a problem I won't be upset, I know it's a lot to ask with the Swede gone and everything. [Apply hopeful, 4-year-old asking for a pet expression here]

Mr. Boss Man: Oh, go have fun. You scared me I thought something was horribly wrong! Just had over your projects to the new girl and, if you can, pick up my nephew's asthma medicine with the prescription I'll have sent to you. 

And with that, Paris Trip Attempt 2 was conceived.

I already know the one out of 6 and a half of you that resides in Paris, but if, by any chance, one of the other five and a half of you happens to be there anytime during the week, drop me a line! I could definitely use to company (and the human shield) seeing as Roonies will be spending most of the week in a highly intelligent and probably pretentious and boring World Bank finance-related course. 

I, on the other hand, will be spending copious amounts of Daddy's (and, sadly, my) money at Printemps. And over-priced bistro's. Because I never learnt how to live on a budget and tend to live beyond my means. 

I will probably indulge my faux-artsy side as well... Just to say I didn't spend the whole time shopping. A trip to Montmartre for some moules should do the trick. 

Adieu mes amis!

Happy Birthday Dear Blog!

Dear Eurekaisms,

366 days ago (it is, after all, a leap year), you came into our world blinking and wavering on your little webling footsies. You were born at a time of uncertainty, as a beacon of hope for unfortunate, bored souls, very much like your mother. 

As with all spur of the moment ideas, I was unsure whether or not you would live to see your first birthday. Yes, it was a terrifying time. Would I be able to keep you interesting? Would I be able to keep you funny? Would you be updated regularly, or suffer my lack of discipline and focus? I must admit, there have been times where I thought of giving you up. Yes, I have had my moments of weakness. I was unsure of your development, of your entertainment value, and of my ability to keep you going. I knew that it would be better to delete you than keep you up, alone and abandoned. 

But the thought of leaving you tore my heart in two. You have given me so much, and introduced me to a whole world of possibilities within the interwebs. I have read heartfelt musings, funny familial anecdotes, and snarky political commentary through your links to the rest of the blogging community. I have followed the lives of people as far away as Singapore and Texas and that mystical place they call Maadi. I have learnt that regardless of location, of income, and of roots, we all have the same fundamental worries, experiences and senses of humour. Most importantly, we all believe in the importance of the correct use of a semi-colon. 

You have put up with my gripes, my groans, my failed attempts at wit, and my struggles with displaying or communicating emotion. You have quietly listened as I tried to chip at my defence mechanisms, and have encouraged my mediocre stabs at flash fiction. You have nurtured my love for the written word, and given my rusty brain an escape route where nothing I write or think is stupid or superficial. You have given me 6 and a half dedicated readers from New York, Munich, the UK, and that other weird place they call the land of princes. These readers have been engaging, supportive, and generally great to me, and I thank you (and them) for being my webbed friends in arms. 

You have been my outlet, my friend, my child. 

Thank you blog, and thank you cherished readers. 

Happy first birthday Eurekaisms,

Your [obviously deluded] mummy,

Eureka. 

GObama!

Today is a good day. Today is a day of grins and euphoria. Today is the day I can happily say that my birth country has redeemed itself, both in my eyes and the eyes of the world.

Today is the day where I can once again hold my head high when I say, "I am an American."

Because today I woke up to this, a new America:

An America reborn, an America of acceptance, of change, of ambition, of audacious hope.

Daddy's Dictums #2

Mummy is on the phone talking to a real estate agent. As all women do when they want something, she is being sweet and charming and complimentary. Unbeknownst to her, she's calling him the wrong name. 

Bloft: Who is she flirting with?

Daddy: She's having cyber sex with someone and she doesn't even know his name.

Bloft: It's called phone sex, Dad. 

Where's a Genie When You Need Him?

Nesticleez: "I wish you really were Empress of the world."

Genie, if you're out there, get on it.