I used to think it was crazy when people would call me more than 1ce or 2ce in a row when trying to reach me. There was this one time a few years ago when a guy I knew called my house and I really didn't feel like talking to him. It went something like this:

*ring ring*
"Oh look it's BOY-X."
[pick up. hang up.]

*ring ring*
"Oh look, him again."
[pick up. hang up.]

*ring ring*
[pick up. hang up.]

*ring ring*
[pick up. hang up.]

Repeat 5x more.

*ring ring*
"Hello?"
"Hi, it's me, BOY-X."
"Oh hey. Did you just call me a few minutes ago?"
"What..? No..."
"Oh, okay."
[roll eyes.]

Anyway, I think I now finally understand the phenomenon of chronic dialing syndrome. It came upon me last night as I was sitting at our company xmas party, 'alone' at my table while those around me hee-hawed loudly in Dutch. I tried to appear amused with myself and my glass of white wine, but really, how amused can a girl look when she's sitting all by herself???? So, in order to alleviate the boredom, I started dialing for people to talk to, and before I knew it, I was pushing the send button repeatedly and listening anxiously to the beeps on the line and hoping that a human voice would be on the other end to say hello...

I can't think of that many moments where I felt more like a loser. In front of me sat the Head of my business unit, chatting somewhat secretly with the mean-looking Dutch lady who sat beside her, the one with the wrinkled face, slitty eyes, fake red lil lips and fried permed white hair. On my left was my boss, filling up the air with her snorty laughter, having a great time, in her snazzy shiny white blazer.

So ya, it was kinda shitty being there but as most expats in NL know, the Dutch aren't known for being very considerate at all, which includes the fact that they will speak in Dutch around you without caring that you don't understand a word. Even if you tell them you only speak English, it doesn't seem to matter. It would make more sense if they didnt speak English, but most of them do but still choose to exclude people. It didn't matter that much to me actually, because I wasn't that interested in talking to these people about work anyway, which is what most of them resorted to.

--

In other news, I had my second official bike accident yesterday. After the work party, I jetted out of there early so I could get back home and chill. But as I approached the ferry terminal that would take me back to Central Station, I stopped the bike, only to teeter and tip to the left, adn before I knew it, I landed on my knee and elbow, trapped under the bike. I lay there for 2 seconds, thinking "not again..." and then picked myself up and acted like nothing happened.

There were at least 4 people standing about 5 feet away from me, but none of them said a word, and just stood in the darkness. I went towards the water so I didn't have to face them, and then I hear, "How is it?" from behind me.

Turns out it's a 'friendly' Surinamese guy, who in our conversation tells me what he does for a living, that he enjoys walking in the night, that he lives in the SouthEast of Amsterdam (translation: ghetto), that he has no girlfriend, that he can teach me Dutch and that he'd like to take me out sometime.

Big WOOP and WHAT a SURPRISE!!!!!!!!!!!!! Man.. Surinamese guys are so damned predictable. Way to pick up a girl when she's down, man!!!

I did my best to fend him off, but as we got to the other side of the water, I decided to take a peek at my knee, which was feeling rather numb. To my surprise, it was deep red and oozing with thick blood!!! Ahhhh, at least last time when I fell off my bike, I had jeans on and I just got a slight scrape in my knee. But THIS time it was just pantyhose and that got scraped off right away.. and by the time I got home, the pantyhose had dried up w/ my blood and gotten stuck to my skin!!

Ohhh the pain!!!!!!!!! :'(