Ring in the [last] New Year

It's that time of year again.  The time when you think, "well, now is a better time than ever to make a resolution and stick to it for at least 3 weeks."  I can't remember if I made any last year.  As a matter of fact, I can't remember what I did last year.  This year, oh buddy, THIS year, will be the same as most years.  I'm going to make a few resolutions that I will attempt to stick to.  I'm still banking on the Apocalypse happening this year [hence the title] - it would rid a lot of debt...but if it doesn't happen, well then I had better attempt to be a better person...And here we go...

1. The cliché : Diet - It's no mystery that I don't eat healthy foods.  My cholesterol is likely through the roof and I'm well on my way to early onset diabetes (whatever that means).  My sodium intake is enough to kill a cow.  That's assuming that cows can die from an excess of sodium...  Nothing in my fridge (when I actually get around to buying food from a grocery store) is low fat or fat free.  Rarely are the veggie and fruit drawers ever used for veggies and fruits.  I choose fast food to a packed lunch any day of the week.  Not because I think everyone will think I'm a loser who packs her lunch pfffffttt!!! I'm 26, that's only 15% of my worries.  My inability to pack my lunch ties back to my lack of grocery shopping.  The fact of the matter is, I'm too lazy to shop and cook for myself (also one of the many reasons why I wouldn't get a pet - if I can't feed myself, why the hell would I feed another living creature that sheds and doesn't speak my language?!?)  For these reasons, and also the previously mentioned "adult-status" age of 26, I should prooooobably start acting and living like an adult.
2. Sweeeeeet Tooth: closely related to the previous resolution, I eat a lot of sweets.  Basically what I'm saying is, I eat like I don't gain a single pound from it; the difference between people who do that and can do that and me is that I shouldn't do that because...I actually gain weight from it.  I'm not delusional, I don't look at my ill-fitted jeans and wonder how on earth I shrunk them...No no.  I KNOW the water settings are different on every washer and these jeans that I've owned for years have miraculously decided to reject these specific water settings...that's the only explanation.  Anyhow, when I hit the candy shelf before every class and disrupt the lectures with the crackling and the rustling of my skittle bag as my index finger and my middle finger act as tweezers or tongs grabbing at the last skittle in the bag and my mouth looks like a rainbow threw up in it...it's probably time for me to reevaluate my life.  My sugar intake, like my sodium, is dangerously high.  It's time for a change.  Moderation. Moderation.
3. DUG THIS ONE OUT OF THE DRAFT BIN BUT IT STILL APPLIES:
   Junior or Misses?
   So...I think my "Life Handbook" was lost in the mail...If I had it, I'd search in the Table of Contents for the "Dress Code".  At exactly what age are you supposed to dress like an "adult?"   I'd kind of like to know.  When do I have to hang up the t-shirts and break out the blouses??  Must I trade my low-rises for Mom-jeans?  Do I have to throw away my oversized-Pubcrawl t-shirt-boxer shorts-sleepwear for matching top and bottom Pajamas?!?  Am I too old for my favorite pair of Chuck Taylors.  Do I have to start shopping in the "Lady Loafer" section???  When I begin to see over the heads of the shoppers in American Eagle and ask for a double-digit size, does that mean I need to shop in Ann Taylor? 
   
   
   Please!  Won't someone tell me?!?  If I have to skip the Juniors department and shop in the Misses section, I'm almost 102% positive that I will NOT be a happy camper.  You and your gypsy skirt can get the hell outta here!  Okay, okay, I'm being a bit drastic.  But the question remains - at what expense?  At the expense of my comfort?  I can dress like an adult without looking like I have one foot in the Nursing Home.  But know this - you will not catch me carrying around a hand-knit over-the-shoulder purse anytime in the near future.  I refuse to conform to these societal norms.  I refuse! 

   
   

   Often I silently laugh at the women who choose to get dolled up for the grocery store. They wear heels and "normal clothes" and I want to never be that woman.  That's just dumb.  But I mean, they COULD be headed to somewhere that requires the need for heels...I don't know.  Where am I leading to?  Well, again with the realization that I can't be young forever and the fact that I have to grow up at some point and ALSO, I don't want to end up on "What NOT to wear," I should definitely start dressing like I didn't just walk out of the Twilight movie (by the way, I just saw it and it's as hilarious as you'd imagine).  
4. Good vs. Evil
   It's no mystery that Guilt is the driver in my life.  Guilt stolen my keys and taken control of my life, banished me to the back seat, child-locked the doors whilst I sit back, more car sick than I'll get out, and he drives me to do things that I otherwise, know in my mind, I should not do.  I buy gifts for people I don't like, out of guilt.  I talk to people I don't want to talk to, out of guilt.  I help people I don't want to help (and don't deserve help), out of guilt.  Are we seeing a pattern here?  So when I finally take hold of the wheel (still from the back seat) for a moment, I feel empowered (and carsick).  I carry on like I have control but guilt comes to and knocks me back - "nice try!" he says...guilt controls me.  When guilt controls me, I feel like a bad person.  I feel like I should be a church-goer but I literally have no time to rid the guilt from my life in prayer.  He skateboards and loiters - he pee's on my "no loitering" sign.  Bottom line is, I need to just be myself and try to not lose control of my life.  It's like an abusive relationship that I do not want to be in anymore.  It's just not that simple. We're going to have to end this thing violently (thank you Dane Cook for the eternal reference).
5. Money on my Mind
   So it's clear that the lottery is NOT being kind to me.  And the apocalypse, I mean, I can't COMPLETELY depend on it - I need some sort of backup plan in case it's a bust (and not in the good way).  I don't really like to think about the overwhelming debt that I have looming and waiting around the corner for when I come close enough for it to knock the the F down. The last time I thought about it, and I mean REALLY thought about it was when I reapplied to grad school.  I had a fantastic beginning of the year on my trip to Europe, scholarship aside, I still owe a truckload of money on my credit card and a generous family loan.  It always comes down to the last dime at the end of the semester.  I work, I cut some corners, I rarely grocery shop, I should be fine right!??! wrong.  projects in good ole' architecture school (if you're dedicated to making great models) can run you anywhere from $300-$1000 per semester.  crazy?!? no. necessary.  so I need to get my shit together.  I have a lot of necessary expenses and I have a lot of frivolous expenses and looming expenses that I need to grapple with.  Budget is annoying but a necessary evil.

Well there you have it.  The 5 major resolutions I've made for myself.  I don't want to go overboard and make more because many of these will be broken before they are started.  I know who I am and I know how I do.  Nevertheless, I have a written record that I tried...I also have a written record that I knew I'd fail - haha none of this is legally binding.

C Bandit takes a Vacation from Vacation

Back to life, back to reality...
At this point in the game, I'm just happy to see the US again.  These are things that I missed in no particular order, just in the order that I can remember:

• Dr. Pepper
• My BED!!! 
• US Prices
• driving
• radio
• television
• cottage cheese
• Target
• English
• Vanilla Lattes
• Burgers: Bar-style and cooked medium WELL
• Free refills
• Clean streets
• Free facilities
• REAL breakfast: eggs, bacon, sausage, hash browns - the whole nine

This long after the trip, it's hard to remember all of the things I missed but in the moment, I was longing for the comforts of home.

C Bandit takes LONDON: Again

I called Student Universe to get my flight bumped up by two weeks; they had a small fee but they helped me out a ton.  The only thing they couldn't do was change the airport.  This meant I had to fly back OUT of London which I thought about when I booked the ticket but I didn't know ahead of time that I wouldn't want to go back to London to go home.  Anyhow, I had to book a flight from Rome to London.  My wait for the flight was similar to my wait for the train to Rome.  Super Early, Super bored but actually where I started to blog about my trip.  The line was really long.  I thought I wasn't going to make it but all was well.  I made it.  Flight was delayed - I should've expected that.  I had never flown RyanAir before but for those of you who know about it, it's not really spelled out for you.  I looked at my ticket and realized there was no seat number and when I checked in, they handed me no ticket back.  So when I got on the plane, I had to ask, "uh, where do I sit?"  "You sit anywhere."  I sat near the front and next to the window - cha ching!

We were already well passed the departure time and as I looked on the window, I had realized that there was a 3rd busload of people boarding the flight.  My once vacant and spacious arm rest was now occupied.  Bollocks!

The flight was under 2 hours and we had actually arrived early.  I was confused but I guess RyanAir has a reputation for being really fast.  The flight had been uncomfortable because the man sitting next to me thought it necessary to put his feet under the seat in front of ME aka my foot space AND he also needed more than his arm space to read his newspaper - he needed my face space.  His hands were in front of my face.  I could READ everything he was reading.  What I'm getting at was that I was completely annoyed with this late 40-something, bald, pompous ass from the get-go.

When we arrived in London early, as the plane sat idle at the terminal and we were waiting to exit the plane - the man next to me asks,

"are you here on holiday?"

"yes."

"By yourself?"

"uh...yeah. I'm going to meet up with some friends." I didn't know if he wanted to murder me!  But the conversation progressed and I found out that he was nice and lived in London; somehow we got to me asking, "so, I have to somehow get from here to London.  What's the best and cheapest way to do that?"  The only RyanAir flight that I could get from Rome was to a town about 60 miles south of London.  I figured I would figure something out.

"Heavens.  I mean that's a loaded question.  That's about 100 km north of here.  Why would you do that?"

"well my hostel is near Heathrow and I have to figure out how to get there"

"alright, well you can take the train but there are certain trains that cost more than others.  I'll help you figure it out"

So this man, it turns out, aside from his obnoxious space issues, was OVERLY nice to a traveler like myself.  I'm basically a deer in headlights when it comes to that stuff.  Had he not helped me transfer to the 4 different trains and a bus, I would STILL, TO THIS DAY, 2 months after the trip, be crying in the corner of that airport in the fetal position...scared and helpless.  The transit in London and to London was and is completely and utterly complicated as hell.  Paris transit was HEAVEN by comparison.  SO SO easy and so much cheaper.  Never smelled piss or saw a beggar in the London Underground though - probably because you have to pay to even breathe in London.

I had a suspicion that this man was too nice to be true so I was cautious.  He gave me his international phone number and told me to call him if I needed anything and he sent me on my way - no troubles.  He was too nice and he had no ulterior motive.  He was just doing a good deed. I emailed him later to thank him for helping me and he replied for me to meet up with him so he could show me London.  I was very hesitant at this point.  I took it upon myself to walk around London the following day.  I later calculated that I had walked 7 miles - crazy!  This was mostly to avoid taking the public transit but it was good exercise and I got some pictures out of it.  He had called my phone later that day and said if I wanted to meet up at the Tate Modern Museum, he would be there - but I didn't have to.  Ironically, before receiving this phone call, I was AT the museum.  I thought it would be quite awkward to see him after somewhat avoiding, but mostly missing his calls.  So the 2nd time he had called, I told him I'd be there.  We walked around the museum.  He showed me the Gherkin - told me some stories and helped me find the correct train home.  That was the last I saw of him. I never got a creepy vibe from him.  He was just a nice older fellow, who thought I was 21yrs old and helpless.

I had seen my fair share of Europe and I was ready to go home happy but exhausted.

C Bandit takes ITALY: Rome

Oh Rome.  Being new to the whole Traveling business, I really didn't think the independent portion through.  I didn't know that the hostel made a difference.  I didn't know that spending 3-4 days in one location was plenty of time.  I just didn't know what to do or expect.  I was doing this blindly.  So when I decided to go to Rome, I thought to myself, "If I'm going to go somewhere, I want to see it all.  That should eat up an entire week."  My stay in Rome was 8 days which was 4-5 days too long.  You can do Rome in 3 days EASILY.  Don't get me wrong - it was great.  I got to see things that people can only dream of.  After the 2nd day, going at my own pace, I felt like I had pretty much seen it all.  I had to stretch it out though.  I had to hit the major things and then I could do whatever after that.

I tried to make it out to see something major every single day.  I think I succeeded.  I actually made it to the Vatican City 2 or 3 times.  Sounds like nothing but it's actually really far from where I was staying and for the majority of the time, I walked.

After walking a modest amount in Paris, a ton in Rome and far too much in London, I was SUPER lazy thinking I couldn't walk Ann Arbor.  Ann Arbor aint got nothin' on Europe.

I determined, however, that backpacking alone and thinking it would be fun to reflect, meet new people, yada yada yada, that all sounds great but in reality, traveling with people you like is better.  PEOPLE YOU LIKE is key.  I was a deaf mute for two weeks.  My hostel was not hoppin', I mostly saw families or tour groups.  Every time I got online, the time difference to the states was far too late for anyone to be online.  I had no one to talk to - it was a bit lonesome.  I played with my photos in photoshop and posted them on Facehook to occupy the time that I didn't spend exploring or sleeping.  I wanted to get away from everyone on the trip when I went to Italy but at this point, I just wanted to talk to anybody.

There's something about eating alone in Europe that makes you just feel like a loser.  You think everyone is looking at you and talking about you in various languages.  The violinist should just come over and play you sad sad song while the entire restaurant watches and laughs.  For this messed up reason, I didn't eat that much.  When I did decide to eat, it was at odd hours - however, people are constantly eating.

To sum up Rome - it was great. Glad I went.  Wouldn't trade the experience for anything.  You can do it in 3 days EASY.  Lots of walking.  Lots of tourists.  Hot in July.  Everything is so ancient.  Even cheap italian food in Italy is great food.

C Bandit takes the train to ITALY

When it comes to transportation in Europe, the car is the 3rd choice or possibly 4th after the bike.  When you're traveling between countries, you either fly or take a train.  I chose the train because I really didn't want to deal with the airport and my baggage that was likely over the limit.

I'm a person who likes to be early in the event that something goes wrong - I've said it 1000 times: I'd rather be 1 hour early than 5 minutes late.  So I went HOURS early. I'm talkin' like 6 hours early.  The main reason was that I no longer had an apartment and really, dragging luggage around is a pain.  I decided to take my time doing nothing.  I went back and forth between the waiting area of the station and the receiving area.  I went to lunch.  I sat back in the waiting area.  Basically what I'm trying to get at here is that I was super duper beyond bored waiting for the train.  The best part?  Well the best part was that the train was an hr delayed.  That was fantastic.  While waiting, I managed to drain 25% of my iPod battery and write an article I didn't want to dread when I got back from Europe.  At the tail end of my waiting extravaganza, I stood next to a nice Polish looking family.  I'm assuming they were polish but for all I know, they were American.  And my view of the train terminal was blocked by an Asian family.  The dad was hefty-ish; wore CK jeans and a t-shirt; he was probably about 45 but he dressed younger and, well known fact, Asians are usually older than they appear.  People still think I'm 13.  The mom, also dressed hip - or maybe just stylish.  She wore a nice blouse and cute little shorts and 4 inch wedges.  I'll never understand why women wear heels to the grocery store, Target, 7 eleven, Taco Bell, or to the train station when they're about to be locked in a cabin for 15+hours.  Anyways, they had a baby stroller with a cute baby - standard bowl-cut/ mushroom head haircut, very chubby, fairly well behaved.  The stroller was weighed down by designer bags: Tiffany & Co., Gucci, Prada, etc.  The parents paid little to no attention to their youngin'.  They were also traveling pretty light.  I wondered where they were going.  Perhaps to Switzerland or Florence - they'll happily take their money.  I noticed they were speaking French so that explained the light luggage; they were natives.  This is how I spent the remainder of my wait.  I came up with scenarios for people.

When the train finally arrived, a BUTTLOAD of people boarded the train but it wasn't as bad as I thought - everyone had assigned cabins - like in the movies but not quite as cool.  Luckily I was the 2nd one from my cabin to get on the train so I was able to face forward.  I'm motion sickness prone.  I get sick on elevators.  The brief THOUGHT of getting on a rollercoaster makes me want to hurl.  The first to join me in the cabin was an English man.  He was nice, he helped me with my luggage, he spoke English; major plus.  Found out later that he was fluent in French and Italian.  The next was a large black woman with a ton of luggage, or rather, bags filled with things.  The man also helped her.  The last person to join was none other than the asian woman and child and husband.  Everyone in the cabin was confused - we had 5 people plus baby in the 4 person cabin.  Turns out, the husband was in the cabin next to ours - a swap that I would've gladly taken had I been able to see the future.

I believe it was about 3 hours into the ride when the asian lady decides she's going to take a nap and leave her child unattended and unholstered.  I swear that child would've been knocked out cold several times had there not been 3 other passengers in that car with them.  The ticketing...man...whatever his title, as nice as he was, decided he would take the child and play with her.  The mother did not care.  I must have been the only one thinking it was odd.  He returned about 45 minutes later and returned the child but her mother was still sleeping - so he returned her to the other passengers.  As though, simply because we are all in the car, we are ALL responsible for her.  Takes a village right?  When she finally woke up, the black woman asked the man and I to retreat to our beds above.  I thought that was quite early and rude but I actually didn't want to deal with caring for the child any longer.

The remainder of the ride was slightly uncomfortable - I felt waves of motion sickness since I could not look out the window and I was perpendicular to the direction we were headed.  Also, the cabin was incredibly hot.  I slept on and off - this was due partially to the fact that it was hot and partially to the fact that the child had screamed her lungs out the entire night.  All I can say was Thank You Jesus for the invention of music and headphones.  I could still hear her screaming but only between songs.  When I woke up around 8am, the man was gone.  The 2 other women and child were still there.  I was getting annoyed by having to sit up top so I climbed down and walked down the car only to find that there were several empty cabins.  I guess I was too out of it to tell that we had stopped several times.  I decided it'd be fine if I spent the remainder of the trip in an empty cabin.  Our cabin was stuffy, boring, hot and covered in cookie crumbs.

We finally arrived about 1-2 hours later than scheduled.  I found out later that overnight trains are rarely on time.  When I arrived at Roma Termini - I was happy to be rid of my cabin mates and ready to explore what Rome had to offer.

C Bandit takes FRANCE, Part III: What time is it?

[The next few posts have been sitting in my draft box for far too long so I figured I should post them. As a disclaimer, they are all unfinished and unillustrated...SORRRRYYY!]

Ok so I introduced Butthead and already he hasn’t made the best impression.  Or maybe it’s that I haven’t painted him as the best character.  Well, let’s assess some stories in depth and you can be the judge.

***SHORT STORY #1

WHAT TIME IS IT?

Upon arriving in the lovely city of Paris, we all chose or were placed with a roommate.  As you know already, Beavis & Butthead were paired and quite the pairing they were.  So Butthead arrives early and has the only key to the apartment.  He wanders aimlessly about town; we later learn that this is the norm.  However, on the very day that Beavis is arriving, his only instructions were to meet at the apartment at Noon – promptly.  Noon rolls around, no sign of him.  1 rolls around, nowhere in sight. So Beavis is forced to go clear across town to our instructors’ apartment and try to figure out what to do.  About 4 hrs later, they figure, he has to come back home at some point so they head back.  They wait, and they wait and they wait.  Around 6pm, he shows up like nothing had happened, like he had met them at the exact time agreed upon.  Now, I wasn’t there so the dialogue to follow is from partial information and is the only way that I could possibly have imagined it to have gone.

Pepe:            “where were you?”

Butthead:       “what? What do you mean?”

P:                 “you were supposed to be here at 12”

B:                 [looks at watch] “but it is noon”

P:                  “no, you are crazy.  It’s 6pm”

B:                 [look of confusion] “….oh….I didn’t know.  I thought my watch would change automatically”   

Let’s analyze this for a moment.  In order to do this, let’s have a little lesson on timezones.  Due to the fact that the earth is not flat and the sun cannot possibly encompass the entire earth at once, there are these things called Time Zones – amazing…brilliant…genius.  Ok now, let’s figure out what time zone Detroit is…according to the map, it’s Eastern.  Ok, now, let’s figure out what Paris is…oh wait wait – nope, thought it was in the same time zone but it’s not. 

Let’s give him the benefit of the doubt and assume that he knew that there was a 6 hour time difference.  But let’s take a look at his watch.  A watch that, after careful examination, is about 10-12 links too large for his wrist.  Look closer and you’ll also realize that this watch is analog and NOT digital.  What am I getting at?  This kid thinks that his analog, NOT digital, watch would change itself…oy vey.  Also – can I also bring up the fact that the sun is NOTICEABLY lower in the sky at 6pm…can I? 

***SHORT STORY #2

IT’S JUST A BAG

This won’t be long at all. Hence, the SHORT story title.  It’s more or less a description of personal belongings.  Some people in the class carry a large camera and therefore facilitate the need of a large carrying device such as a bag, a purse, a backpack, etc.  I am one of those people.  I’ll admit, my bag is excessively large and really doesn’t need to be – but I digress.  This kid carries a backpack to every location. 

What kind of camera does he have, you ask? 

Good question – a Nikon point and shoot. 

Does he carry said camera in this backpack?

            You would think he would but he actually carries it in his cargo shorts.

Well then what does he carry in that bag?

            I’ve only ever seen him get a small 4x8 sketchbook out of it.

That can’t be true, he has to carry other things.

            Well, there could be a bomb in there.

We have this theory.  He’s a very angry person but we didn’t find that out til after this theory was….theorized.  If you’ve ever heard the Dane Cook skit about the awkward guy in the office that is so angry that he loses it and does the unthinkable, then you know the theory.  Give him a Snickers bar and you’re good to go.  Always be nice to the crazy dude because you don’t know where your name lies on his list.

Without thinking, Worthington asks the following:

Worthington:   [Toggles bag playfully] “dude, why do you carry that backpack? What’s in there?”

Butthead:       [Overcome with anger, like a mother protecting her young, blood vessels bursting, jaw clenching] he replies, “It’s – JUST – A – BAG.”

Give

Him

A

Snickers

Bar

And back

Away

Slowly…

***SHORT STORY  #3

DID SOMEONE TURN THE LIGHTS OUT?

As previously mentioned, peeing in Europe is not as easy or as free as it is here in the US.  During a long walk on one of our daily tours, we decided, as we frequently did, to sit at a cafe and rest. Many of us had to use the facilities and this particular facility required the purchase of an item, AND a coin for the operation of the door. In order to cheat, we all kind of propped the unlocked door open for the next person to go until everyone had their turn. Now, the order of the line went as follows: Haley, Nicole, Butthead, me. Now, I KNOW for a fact that the bathrooms are disgusting but I also know for a fact that neither Haley, nor Nicole treated the toilet like they would the ground of a campsite. By this I mean, I KNOW they didn't pee all about and around the toilet before leaving it to the next person. Butthead on the otherhand...let's just say...when I was next - it looked like someone had pee'd with the lights out and decided, "I'm going to spray the walls and the floor and my shoes and the toilet paper" OR it may have been that he was in a hurry, really had to go and pee'd as fast as he could, without looking because someone was about to leave without him...The stall was plastered with piss...plastered...

***SHORT STORY #4

EVERYBODY DANCE NOW

There's not much to say.  We went out in the streets of Marseilles.  People were dancing.  We were all dancing.  We saw locals dancing. We saw tourists dancing. We saw Children dancing. We saw Butthead dancing...it can only be described as...well, it can't be described.  It is best "described" with this simple, photo.

** *LAST STORY

Canonbaaaaallllllllll

Where to begin…One lovely day, on the Coast of Frioule, an island off Marseille, the class spends a day on the beach.  Some of us decide to stick together while others decided to venture off in smaller groups.  There was the group of instructors and partners, the all girl group, the all guy group and then there were Beavis & Butthead (oh and the Twins – see? They disappear!).  Along the coast of this island, there are smaller and more private beaches.  Our instructors decided to set up camp on this nice cove that opens up to cliffs suitable for jumping off of and what have you.  Remember that the instructors are in their own group at this point.  Also remember that this story is not a first hand experience so it’s my interpretation of a story told to me.  Back to the story – one of the instructors sees a fiery redhead and a curly haired fellow across the way, on the cliffs mentioned earlier.  Before I go any further, I feel that it is necessary to point out the fact that Beavis has Cerebral Palsy.  I also feel it is necessary to point out that it is EXTREMELY obvious that she has this disability and that we all, or at least, I thought that everyone was in the know.  Ok, back to the story, the instructors see Beavis prepping to jump.  She jumps.  Butthead does not follow – he is at the top of the cliff recording this act on his Nikon point and shoot.  They see him continue to record but ALSO…ALSO throw his shoes AT her.  The instructors are worried.  One of the guest instructors is a former lifeguard and informs other instructor that Beavis is swimming awkwardly.  They decide to swim out and see if all is well. 

They reach her.

“[Beavis], are you ok?”

“no…I’m tired” she says as she begins to fall backwards and sink.

Former lifeguard to the rescue.

Instructor later takes Butthead aside and tells him that Beavis cannot do those things.

“We can’t follow you around the island.  You’re responsible for making sure she is safe.  You don’t know how a person with CP will react in a situation like that.”

“What? What do you mean?”

“She has Cerebral Palsy.  It’s a disability.”

“…oh…I didn’t know…”

I mean really… REALLY?!?  The only excuse that he could have in not knowing about her disability is if he was blind and deaf and in a paraplegic comatose state and in fact, not on the trip at all.  That is the only way you could NOT know that she had a disorder.

There you have it; these are a collection of the many stories that I feel, capture Butthead in all his essence.  Don’t make any snap judgments,  just make your own analysis of this character.