Buenos Aires on the cheap!

Lois! After a few months in this “Argentina” place, I think I finally have a few good recommendations for when you and Stan finally get your ass down here.

1. Buy fewer things. I know this sounds dumb, but it’s true! For example, instead of just buying your plasma TV down here, you can bring it down! Apparently, some of the ‘taxes’ for outside things are a little high. I think it might have something with gas prices and pay for pilots.
Photo credit: a group of angels.

So a PowerBook will set you back $6,000 pesos! Which is $2,000!! (And apparently if you’re making pesos, it feels like $6,000. Go figure.)

2. Ignore the real price what you’re really paying. Just focus on that whole ‘I can divide by three!’ bit and you’ll be okay. Just keep telling yourself: it’s a third cheaper than in the states! Don’t look at the 11 peso price tag on your brick of mozzarella. Actually paying attention to the shocking inflation–and imagining what your life would be like if you made pesos–isn’t going to help anyone. I mean, what you can do?

3. Stay with a new friend! Making new friends online is also a great way to ensure that the party never stops.

An example of how the party can keep going, ad infinitum. Photo credit: God.

4. Make your money in a currency that’s not pesos.

5. Stay home. Have someone read this to you, and close your eyes. Envision a mythical place inhabited by Borges where everyone dances tango, maté, and malbec called “Buenos Aires.” People are good looking, and the water goes down the other way when you flush the toilet. I think it’s counterclockwise. July is actually summer. Open your eyes.

Cheap way to travel, eh??

Any time of the day is a good time for wine!

Miss Cybil’s a little behind in her blogging–but she’s not a little behind in her drinking!

Two motherfuckers got in my way right as I snapped this bad-ass picture. Photo credit: someone with a camera.

To combat the existential dread that inevitably comes with feeling that your life is spiraling out of control, Miss Cybil has a few things that make her feel better.

1.) Comparing herself to others.

2.) Comparing herself to others.
Dr Steve Brule Wine Tasting on FunnyOrDie.com

3.) Going to Mendoza! (See above.)

4.) Drinking! Or the beach! (Tie.)

5.) Having your boyfriend take you on vacation to Iguazú Falls!

Isle of Novio

Sometimes, it’s good to get away every now and then!

Especially if the New Jersey Department of Child Welfare is hounding your ass. Or when, upon your return, you end up in some hobbit hole in Uruguay with your mother.

Or, perhaps, if it’s because you’ve been spending lots of time with a hottie.

Alas, hotties aren’t everything. (You heard Miss Cybil right!) So more, soon… I swear, Gladys! Don’t you just hate these cliffhangers!?!?!?

Forget her camera? Miss Cybil did that!

Kids, take note: Miss Cybil does not forget things. True, she may forget the occasional holiday, birthday, or that time she “was supposed to pick her son up after surgery” (always with the club foot, Sal!), but generally speaking, her mouth is like a cave. Her brain’s like a trap door. Or something.

At least, she doesn’t forget her camera. But there are times when she just can’t take a photo, per se. And some times, these are the best times. Like the last week. I can’t show you a photo of:

1. The taste of eating an empanada after having an affair with a priest. (Hey, he wanted it!)

2. The cool lashing of a breeze off of a lakeside…. somewhere.

3. The joy of playing bingo on the bus while sitting next to a lady who just may want the first prize (a bottle of Vino) almost as much as you. And the ensuing attempt to have the winner disqualified, because let’s face it, did he really look older than 15? I don’t think so.

4. Patagonian sunsets that seem to last all day, stretch further than the horizon itself, and introduce a new color each day.

5. Seeing The Bourne Ultimatum on the big screen, with not one but two kids from Boston!

6. Taking a cab ride around the city at night. Just for the hell of it.

7. Finding a new apartment! Okay, I’m lying, I did take a photo of my little outdoor area:

Not shown: a really hot, shirtless guy who was right around the corner, ready to give me “breakfast in bed.” Hey–I’m divorced, Jimmy, give me a break. And you know what? I do pilates. Granted, not as much since I’ve fallen in love with the empanada stand nearby, but enough so that I deserve a little breakfast in bed, you know what I mean? Photo credit: Cybil Blaine.

P.S. What I’m trying to say is that I was unk-dray for about a week and am only now coming out of what my landlady so lovingly referred to as an “American coma.” God bless those Mexicans!

Royally screwing up her Mexican? Miss Cybil did that!

Lois, Gladys, Jimmy and Sal–prepare to wet yourselves. I’m not perfect. I know, I know, I know, who is? Aside from Bea Arthur, that is–that bitch has everything!

Since Mexican isn’t my first language (that’d be Klingon for all of you curious types out there), a few times, Miss Cybil has made a mistake here in Buenos Aires. And no, I’m not just talking about the reason I can’t go to Montevideo next weekend. Apparently you can make drunken eBay bids in the Southern hemisphere, too! I’m here to talk about mistakes I’ve made while trying to speak my 4th language, Mexican. Or use language at all, really. I’m also here on earth to preach the good word of Jesus, but the fact that you’re going to hell in a handbasket–not unlike my ex-husband, Voldemort–I’ll save for another day!

1. I told a pair of architects that I was unable to sit on my toes.

2. I told a group of college kids that I was a professional desk.

3. I told a doctor that in order to learn how to speak Mexican, I really needed a unique brunette.

4. I’ve told about eighty sales girls, twenty waitresses, ten cab drivers, and three of my kids that I didn’t need any help.

5. I told a guy from South Africa that I really enjoyed meeting him. (Note: this would have been in American.)

6. I failed to tell a girl from New Zealand that I wanted to punch her in the mouth.  (See above.)

7. I didn’t write to a friend of mine in China, a guy I’ll call Juan, that he was a douchebag in a recent e-mail I sent. In fact, there are about a million people whose douchebag status I’ve yet to reveal.

8. But I will. In time, I’ll post the others, too.