by Marinka on August 8, 2014

Love stories are so dull. And they’re all almost exactly the same.

Girl meets boy. Girl and boy decide to go to Ireland together in August. Girl realizes boy is bat shit insane. How many times can you hear this story before rolling your eyes and thinking “this again?”

In case it’s new to you, I’ll tell you what happened so you can see my predicament.

A few weeks before we’re supposed to go to Ireland together, he starts this Q&A with me about whether or not I suffer from jet lag when I travel across multiple time zones at the speed of light. Or maybe at a speed of an airplane. So I say “yes” because I’m at the stage of the relationship that I like to call “honesty”. I can’t wait for that stage to be over so we can move into the much more satisfying “mind fuckery.” That’s when he asks you anything at all, like “do you suffer from jet lag?” and you respond with a “what the fuck is that supposed to mean, asshole?!”

I know what you’re thinking and I don’t know how I remained single this long either.

So I say “yes, I suffer from jet lag being a person and all” and it’s like this is the answer he’s been waiting for his whole life.

“I will cure you of this jet lag!” he announces and I immediately get very excited because I figure drugs are involved and who doesn’t love drugs?! If you’ve seen those “this is your brain on drugs” fried egg commercials from the 1980s, you know how delicious they can be.

Anyway, so now I’m excited that I’m going to Ireland with a lot of drugs but he sort of reads my mind and kills my hopes and dreams with a blunt “no drugs” blow to my happiness.

“What the fuck?” I ask, moving seamlessly into a new and exciting stage of our relationship.

And then he says a lot of crazy shit.

Like for ten days before the trip, we have to go to bed two hours earlier and get up two hours earlier in preparation for jet lag avoidance.

Because I haven’t been freebasing heroin for the past ten years, this makes no sense to me. It’s not like jet lag is the leading cause of death among people landing in Dublin.

“What the fuck?” I ask, settling into the new and exciting stage of our relationship for the foreseeable future.

And he explains that if I do this waking up two hours early for ten days before the trip, by the time I land in Ireland, I will be refreshed like a daisy or some other flower known for its freshness and feminine hygiene product reference.

“But won’t I be exhausted for the ten days that I’m waking up at 5?” I asked, cocking my head adorably to the side.

We were talking on the phone, so the adorableness was totally lost on him, as was logic and reason, apparently because he said “no.”

So I made an executive decision. I am not going to do this go to bed at 6 pm and wake up at 4 am nonsense. I am going to keep to my regular sleeping schedule and hope for the best in Ireland. I’m sure they won’t mind tinkering with their national clock to suit me.

I’ll keep you posted.



by Marinka on August 5, 2014

In case you read this blog for all your breaking news, there is an Ebola outbreak going on right now. It’s mostly in Africa, although two infected American missionaries have been brought to the United States. Also someone walked into a NYC emergency room, feeling all Ebolaish, but the hospital spokersperson is telling us not to worry and inhale deeply, so all should be ok.

There is also no cure, so in case you’ve been sitting around trying to figure out what’s the next great thing to invent, I’d definitely give Ebola-Be-Gone a try.

Personally, I don’t like epidemics with no cure, but that’s just a personal preference, I can’t speak for everyone. What I can do is share a post that I wrote two years ago, because where Ebola is concerned, it’s pretty timeless.

* * *

As you may remember, this summer my daughter and I are reading The Hot Zone, Richard Preston’s account of the Ebola epidemic.

Obviously I’m reading it under duress and already have diagnosed myself with Ebola so I’m just awaiting the autopsy to confirm my findings.

But I’ve also learned a few interesting facts from the book and I’m going to share them with you here, absolutely free of charge.


1. There is a river called Ebola. It’s in the Congo, in case you’re still in the destination-shopping phase of your honeymoon planning.

2.The United States Army has veterinarians. They take care of the Army’s guard dogs, pigs, cows, sheep, horses, monkeys, mules and rabbits.

3. The United States Army seems to have a lot of animals. You’d think they’d feature it more prominently in their recruitment posters, but it’s almost like they’re not even trying to appeal to 9 year old girls.

4. The United States Army doesn’t seem to have any cats. I don’t understand how we can expect any of our stealth missions to succeed with this blatant anti-feline bias. Have we learned nothing from the Don’t Ask, Don’t Meow fiasco?

5. HIV is only a Biosafety Level 2 agent. Ebola is a Biosafety Level 4 agent, although after reading the book, I am going to start a petition to have it upgraded to Biosafety Level 8 kazillion. (By the way, “What’s your Biosafety Level?” is an excellent pick up line!)

6. The good people at the United States Army Medical Research Institute for Infectious Diseases (USAMRIID)were reluctant to travel to the Hot Zone. “They did not care to do research on Ebola because they did not want Ebola to do research on them.” Finally, a sentiment I agree with. I wonder if it’s too late for me to enlist?

7. “The first line of defense against a hot agent is sticky tape, because it seals cracks.” I don’t know about you, but I am going to be buying a lot of sticky tape. And maybe a stapler, just in case.

8. Apparently, it’s very ouchy to lose the surface of one’s tongue. OMG, I’m losing consciousness just knowing that tongues have surfaces. I hope that doesn’t affect my chances of a career with USAMRIID.

9. When I tweet an educational excerpt from the book:

Screen Shot 2012 07 08 at 9.48.25 AM 300x136 EBOLA!

some First Amendment enemy will tweet this in response:

Screen Shot 2012 07 08 at 9.48.44 AM 300x152 EBOLA!

But I won’t be silenced, Stacey, I won’t be. Because silence=death. And Ebola=death. So my silence=Ebola. I believe the math and science speak for themselves.


Not Your Mother’s Vagina

July 31, 2014

I do not have a bucket list. Really, I don’t. But that doesn’t mean that I don’t have goals. Lofty, admirable goals. And one of those goals is to figure out which fucking Always pads to buy once and for all. Preferably before the onset of menopause. I’m racing against the clock here, people. Mona […]

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Modern Love, or Something Like It

July 19, 2014

Me: Did you get that link I sent you? The one with the movie writeup? Him: Yes. That movie sounds unbearably dull. Me: ALright, I’ll just go by myself then. Him: No, I’d like to see it with you. Me: ? Him: You greatly underestimate how much I love the idea of spending three hours […]

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Hard to Say

July 4, 2014

I haven’t made my final summer vacation plans with the kids yet, and while that would throw most people into a panic, in my case it’s probably for the best. Because lately I’ve been thinking that maybe I should just go and be in the World Cup. This is certainly a surprising turn of events […]

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July 2, 2014

I know I’ve been updating less than usual for a while and it’s taking its toll on me too. Obviously the fact that I decided not to write about my divorce is a factor (although please rest assured, it’s all very boring and amicable, no War of the Roses here. Not even War of the […]

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June 18, 2014

The Lord works in mysterious ways. Like you’re living your life and things are pretty good, if you don’t focus too much on the Human Condition and the frailty of life and the fact that the we are all, each one of us, is going to die alone. Unless there is some sort of a […]

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June 7, 2014

The other night I won three games in a row at mah jongg, improving considerably my 2014 record of winning zero games in a row. The thing about me and winning is that for reasons that science cannot yet identify, once I win, I become completely intolerable. The wonderful, kind person that you’ve come to […]

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