Hey-OOO!

Does anybody else just find this to be completely creepy? This is the name of a bookstore in Durban that sells Christian literature. And who says religion can't be fun?

I saw Batman for the 9th time last night on the IMAX. I must hold some sort of record. It was just as good as opening night. I also ate McDonalds twice yesterday. Best smelling bathrooms in the world. If you are ever in the Durban area and are in need of a nice john, hit up the McDonalds in town. I wish my house smelled that good.

McSchmidt. Out.

Goodnight Nurse

The view from my apartment of safe and lovely Downtown Durban

The artistic view of the safe and lovely Downtown Durban, entitled "Starry Eggs"

Goodnight everyone from the zulu-natal. Only 46 more days til the new Kelly Clarkson CD!

Why So Serious?

So many of you have been asking about work stuff, so I figured I would post a little something about what I have been up to at work. And by many of you I mean my parents, but since they are funding my little operation here I figured that I better appease them. I am working at an HIV focused hospital, however my role as a social worker is more BROAD than just working with HIV patients. Since I have been here I have had the following cases: elderly abuse at an old folks home, organizing Muslim prayer for a newborn baby, getting food parcels for poor people, talking with suicidal children, and sending someone to a alcohol treatment facility. Hi, my name is Rooney, and I am a schmidtsaholic. Those are the major issues that I have dealt with thus far, however I have got to observe some really serious stuff going on in the hospital.

I came here wanting to be like Patch Adams, and cheer everyone up and make people happier while they were sick, but I am finding out that these people need a lot more than someone to make them smile. It’s on a daily basis that I will meet someone with a CD4 count below 20 (really low). Today I met a 16 year old who took pills to kill himself and his mother gave me the note he wrote and it might have been the most intense thing that I have personally experienced on a professional level. It really is hard to work here sometimes due to the weight that everything has here. And what is even harder is that many of these professionals working here, along with patients for that matter, make HIV an issue that is relatively not major. 70% of the population has HIV, so it is seemingly normal to have it. I sat with someone getting an HIV test this morning, and they weren’t even nervous or shaking or anything. I remember when I took my first HIV test in college and everyday during the weeklong span that it took to get the results I wanted to puke. I even was 99.9% certain that it was going to be negative, due to having the Ellen haircut and not getting girls since the Nagano Winter Olympics. This guy was at best 50/50 due to risky behavior. And he wasn’t nervous at all. It really is sad that it has gotten to that point here in KwaZulu-Natal, but I guess that is the reality of the situation.

(Sidenote: as I am writing this, a prayer session just broke out and they just came outside to where I am sitting and are facing me singing about Jesus. The pastor is wearing pink pants. My Schmidtsdar is ringing loud.)

I also got to attend a funeral last weekend for Ingrid’s friend Sipiwe, whose mother had passed away. It was really interesting to see the cultural funeral ceremony. We were the only two white people and apparently it is a big deal to have a white person at this kind of funeral. It is considered an honor in a way due to the perception of whites and their status. If they only knew how schmidts I was, I feel like they would think a bit differently. During the funeral someone told us that a cultural tradition is that the gravedigger must dig the hole 6 feet deep, however if the hole cannot be dug due to stones or rocks consuming the hole, the digger must take a frog and bury it in the hole and then fill it. I honestly don’t even know where to begin with that one, so I’ll just let it resonate with you all for a little bit. I was also amazed at how many people showed up. I hope when I die I can fill the crowd. I probably have like ten really good friends (only 6 official blog followers so I’m rounding up). I have no chance.

But yeah, it is not all fun and games over here, although I am trying to do my best to make it that way. And I know that serious blog entries are totally schmidts, but I really am a serious person deep down, and I want to share those feelings with everyone.

HAHAHAHAHAHA I just laughed hard when I reread that last line. I’m sorry I can’t be serious. Can you imagine how that tradition even started? Seriously. “Shit I just hit rock. I need a fucking frog!” Hahahahaha. Why not like a bug or something small? And how pissed do you think that guy is? He has been digging for hours and then he hits rock at 5 feet 6 inches and then has to get out of this massive hole he just dug and whack a frog upside the head to put him into this huge hole. So tough. Alright, that’s all I got for ya. I’ll keep everyone (my parents) updated on work life as more develops.

Hey everyone, come and see how good I look.

I Immediately Regret This Decision

So last Friday I took about an hour drive with Ingrid to check out the Lion Park we had heard so much about. It was an extremely hot day and her air conditioning didn’t work, so I sweat through my t-shirt before we even arrived there, making the odor in the car smell like Big Foot’s dick. We got there right before closing and were greeted by a lovely woman who gave us two options: 1. Drive the long way and run the risk of braking down due to the terrible road conditions and try to see elephants before getting to the lions or 2. Go the short smooth easy way and go straight to the lions. Obviously we chose the difficult long way and bought some drinks and food in case we got stranded out there in her 1965 Nissan that was missing numerous essential parts. So we said farewell to the nice woman and as we were leaving we ran into a 3 year old rhino. We got to pet it and had the pleasure of having the smell of rhino shit on our hands the rest of the day, but it was cool as eggs to get to touch it. That’s what she said.

Anyways, we took off on our journey down the dirt road of death and found that keeping the windows closed the entire afternoon was not an option due to no A/C, so we went against all conventional wisdom and rolled them down, leaving us exposed to the number of snakes that inhabited the grounds and other wildlife in the area. I figured I would rather take my chances with a king cobra rather than deal with swamp eggs all day.

We made it through the road pretty easily and while we were slowly creeping towards the lion park Ingrid yelped out a sigh of joy due to 4 large elephants crossing the road in front of us. We drove forward but were hesitant due to the earlier conversation we had regarding whether or not we would let animals climb on Ingrid’s car. I, of course, was all in favor of it, but she was not so enthusiastic about the idea. We drove a bit forward and noticed a man that was following the elephants around. He waved towards our car and told us to come closer to them, which we did. He then told us we could get out of the car and take photos with them, which we did. Two of the elephants were from Africa and two from Asia. You know how I know you’re gay? Cause you like Asia. So those of you keeping score, in the matter of 15 minutes we had managed to break 2 very big rules in the park, which were keeping windows closed at all times and not getting out of the car.

After taking photos with them we got back in the car and discussed how much we should tip the elephant guy. I mean, tipping in general is so complex, and his job title just added to the debate. I don’t really like the rules of tipping. At home you have to tip some loser with gelled hair or a seggsy broad with nice cans about 2 bucks for opening a beer bottle. Why? It’s their job isn’t it? Like they did me this huge favor of using a bottle opener. I can do that myself. I shouldn’t have to pay for it. You should only have to tip on things that you can’t do on your own. Like someone handling elephants or pulverizing your kidney stones. But the big issue was how much we should tip him. I’ve never tipped an elephant handler before. I’ve tipped a trouser snake handler before, but never an elephant handler. Hey-ooo! We threw him 20 Rand and got a move on to the lion enclosure.

We got there to find a sign that listed the rules for being in there. Windows up, don’t get out, drive away from the lions if they come towards your car. Simple enough. The guy opened the gate and I got a strange feeling that we were driving into Jurassic Park. We drove just a few meters forward before I immediately regretted our decision of coming to the lion park that day. I wanted to get into my time machine and gun it to 88. We slowly crept towards the entrance, just the tip, just to see how it felt, and found 10 massive lions right in the middle of the road, blocking us from moving forward at all. So we sat in stankness of the car, windows rolled up, and waited for lions to make a move. After about ten minutes of sweating we decided we could crack open the windows just a bit to get some air. One rule broken. Moments later, a few of the lions got up and started walking towards us, and we left the car in park. Two rules broken. I couldn’t look any of the lions directly in the face, because I was so scared. They are massive animals. And I knew that the only thing protecting me from this lion was a thin piece of glass that rattled when you drove over 50 mph. One lion decided to pee on Ingrid’s car, uping the resale value significantly, while a few others decided to fight in front of our car, prompting us both to shout in fear and causing one drop of pee to hit my Calvins. I'm looking for Ray Finkel...and a clean pair of shorts.

We started to drive slowly towards the eggsit and finally after 45 minutes with the kings of the jungle, we drove safely out of the enclosure. As we were leaving the lion gatekeeper asked for a tip. I respected the balls he had to just come out and ask us for a tip, so we threw him 10 Rand. It reminded me of Charles Barkley giving a begger money who had a sign that said, "Want Money for Booze", because he respected his honesty. We survived our trip to the lion park, just barely, and you can check out the photos on the flickr page. I took way too many, but I got trigger happy due to thinking that these could be the last photos I ever take, and it would be cool to have some photos of me before getting mauled by 10 lions. Maybe a documentary made about me called The Lions, The Schmidt, and his Eggs or something. Ellen could play me. So that was our Lion Park adventure. A nice little Friday. We then went out with Thami for a nice whole meal of food by the beach. We got some wine and the waiter carded me and I quoted The Raven saying, “Nope playa, I’m of age.”

3rd Little Pig

I had a very interesting night last night and I wanted to explain to you my thought process during the events that took place from 3:00 am to 5:00 am.

The situation was the following: A very loud clanking noise was banging against my door, which immediately woke me from my sleep. It sounded like someone was trying to break into my house, and these are the thoughts that followed…

Holy shit! What the fuck is that? It’s just the wind you asshole. No way that’s the wind. Someone is trying to break the lock. Well, you putz, get out of bed and go see. I can’t see anything out there. Get your fucking glasses on you schmuck. Ok, where are they. I can’t find them. Stop making noise, the guy will hear you! But won’t that deter him from breaking in? I wonder why he picked my house? There are like 15 other units in here. I think it’s interesting how people pick and choose who they are going to rob. I’m sort of a big guy, not strong in any way, but tall. Wouldn’t you think if he scoped the place out and saw that a tall Jewish white guy lives there, he would be less inclined to rob it? Oh yeah, he’s really scared of the tall Jew who couldn’t lift a 10 pounder at the Equinox. Good point. Shit! Ok, I got my glasses. I see something moving out there, but it could be the wind. But it's not really the wind. It's the wind moving something else. You can't see wind you putz. Ok, this is the plan, turn on the light and see if the banging stops. I like it. FUCK! It didn’t stop. I’m gonna die. I’ve had a good run. I’ve had intercourse once or twice. I’ve traveled the world. I never won collegiate week though. But neither has Kappy or Victor. That’s kinda tough to swallow. Shit, now the guy can see me inside here. What if he has a gun? I can’t take a bullet. Paper cuts kill. Imagine a bullet. Oh my god. I just don’t want to wet myself. I must go with dignity. Maybe I’ll negotiate my way out of this. I talk for a living. Well, I guess it’s not a living because I’m doing it for free. But yeah, I talk for a living. I can talk to him. Maybe I should just open the door and say hi. Yeah, great call you fucking moron. Just invite a burglar into your home. You really have lost it. Go grab something from the kitchen in case he gets in. What if it’s a broad? Oh my goodness! What if it’s really a broad? Like Catwoman. I can’t decide if that’s a good thing or bad thing. My whole life I have been afraid of broads, so talking her down will definitely not happen. But maybe ill be stronger than her, so I can kick her ass when she gets in. But what if she kicks my ass? Then I’ll have been robbed of all my possessions and get my ass kicked by a broad. Ok, go grab something from the kitchen. But what do I get? I’m not fucking Jason Bourne. I can’t wield a knife. TOASTER. Ok, she will enter the house and I’ll throw the toaster at her and then while she is brushing breadcrumbs from her eyes I’ll run outside the door and get help. Wow! This is genius. Ok, here we go. Wait, the noise stopped. It’s silent outside. Maybe she heard me get the toaster. TOASTER! Fucking toaster. Who woulda thought. I really cannot be stopped. Should I open the door now to see? But what if it’s a trap? She probably planned this. Ok, I’ll get back in bed with the toaster and wait it out. Maybe I should fight crime instead of social work. It’s not everyday someone comes up with a toaster idea like mine. But Toaster Man is probably the most schmidts name ever for a crime fighter. Ok, I’ll tell everyone I was going to use eggs instead of a toaster, so I can be Egg Man. Much better, you fuckin loser. Ok, get in bed and let’s wait it out. Oh my god that lizard is back on my wall. Holy fuck this night just keeps getting worse. I can’t throw a toaster at a lizard. That’s just unfair. Ok Rooney. This is go time. Test of being a man. MAN UP! Lizards and burglar broads cannot stop you. Oh wait, I know a game that can calm you down. Take 3 tylonal pm’s and try to…(snoring)

I woke up to find the lock in complete tact, my toaster unplugged, my glasses on the floor, and my sanity in question. Needless to say, I think I overreacted. The big bad wolf almost blew my house down. But I’m the 3rd little pig. I make my house out of bricks.

Out Of Many, We Are One Giant Egg

So the week started off with much anticipation for Tuesday evening’s inauguration of Barack Obama. Thami and D had invited us over to watch the inauguration with Thami’s family at their house, so Ingrid and I went over there for some traditional African pizza and candy and we all watched one of the most historical moments in all of history. It was very cool being in South Africa for it, even though I would have rather been in Washington, however being in a country so divided by race for so many years, made it extremely special and memorable. We all wore Obama shirts that I had given them and celebrated the evening together in style.

The next day I woke up with a strange yearning for my home country, so I did what any American does when they get homesick while abroad, and hit McDonald’s HARD for dinner. Ingrid and I went that evening and chowed 12 nuggets, 2 XL fries, and 2 XL cokes at a nice leisurely pace. The meal actually took about over an hour due to funny recollections of past traveling experiences and what not, and I have to say it was one of the better McDonald’s meals I had ever had. Of course, I got the McGurggles later that evening, but it was well worth it. We eventually left because a small child was crying hard and it annoyed us. It was like a kid at Toys R Us. I can’t be around it.

(Mom stop reading right now) After dinner Ingrid had to stop off and meet up with some of the children she works with from the street. So we headed down to the homeless shelter, which was quite interesting. It’s hard to explain, but just think of Harlem meets Compton mixed in with Zulu and a tall skinny white Jew and a very white Norwegian girl and then you can envision the scene we were in. Ingrid knew many of the people around because she has been working with these kids for a while, so she’s kind of a local celebrity, so it wasn’t that scary at all. And I was wearing my Leonardo DiCaprio Blood Diamond gear so I felt like a smooth pimp operating machine. No one could touch us. There was a flaming bag of what had to be some sort of mammal dung, and I had the urge to shout, “It’s that blasted poop again! Don’t put it out with your boots Ted.” I refrained. But we met with the children she works with and I was amazed at the work that she does. One of the girls asked to marry me. Obviously a stage 5 clinger, so I declined the offer. I was really impressed that a) Ingrid has the balls to go into places like this and help these kids and b) no one called me Malungu (white man) the whole time I was there and I didn’t soil my nice pair of slacks. But that place had it’s own smell that I didn’t need to contribute to. Nothing like the smell of fresh crack to wake you up at night. I’m telling ya, that place smelled like Shark’s car after an anonymous man went joyriding on New Years Eve in downtown Chicago. So it was an eye opening experience for sure, and hopefully in the future I can help out with her project because it’s really awesome.

(Mom you can continue reading).
The next day I had a very action packed day at work. I had a client who was about to give birth to a baby but needed a Muslim prayer leader to speak the prayer into her baby’s ear after the birth, but since this is a Christian hospital, they don’t have anyone to do such a thing. So, it was up to the only Jew in the entire hospital to find a Muslim in the community to come down and conduct this prayer after the birth. After about several hours of searching, I finally spoke with a colleague of mine who is a Muslim and she found someone to conduct the prayer. I felt really weird combing the hospital for Muslims, because it’s not appropriate to just ask anyone you see if they are Muslim. I felt like Larry David asking the question, “Is it wrong to assume that a black man in a bow tie is a Muslim?” Wanda yells at him after he asks the question, so obviously the assumption was off base, so I knew that I was walking a thin line trying to ask people what faith they practiced. Interestingly enough, the one guy in a bow tie was not a Muslim, so I’m glad I didn’t assume like Larry. But, after all the hard work, the baby is being born as we speak, and I am going up to the ward in a bit to be apart of the prayer. So I’d say it was my first success at work this year. Not exactly the work I thought I’d be doing while I was here, but I’ll take it. Jews and Muslims working together. Anything is possibleeeeeeeeeeee (KG likes men). Just remember everyone; out of many we are one giant seggsy looking egg.

Cougar Hunting

So I sat in an office most of today trying to format someone’s university level paper on Microsoft Word, so as a way to not stab myself in the face with a pencil, I decided that I would write my next blog entry to pass the time. I went away this past weekend to Hluhluwe Game Park and St. Lucia, which is a small beach town north of Durban. It’s sort of like West Palm Beach Florida, but instead of Jews it has Hippos and Crocodiles. I went up to Hluhluwe (pronounced shloo shloo way) with Ingrid, Thami, and his mom D. We woke up around 4 in the morning to drive up there to catch the animals out and about but arrived to see that there were very few that woke up that morning. We saw about a thousand zebras and antelope, but no lions, leopards, cheetahs or elephants. Ingrid and I wanted to see elephants and lions the most but of course we saw zero. I was really hoping to see some sort of cougar, but I guess it’s better I didn’t. So we drove around this massive 94,000 acre park looking for the animals, but saw very few. Why don’t they just tell you where to drive to see the animals? You pay all this money to look at trees basically. They tell you, “But it’s part of the fun to hunt them down and it’s so rewarding to see them after all of the hard work.” Totally false. It’s only rewarding if you actually get to see the animals after hunting for them for 12 hours. Instead, we drove around like schmucks watching trees pass and deer shit on the road.

But I guess being out there was awesome enough and D’s criticisms of the “coward animals” that wouldn’t come out to face us was just enough humor to get me through the day. At one point our car got stuck while we were watching a rhino lay in his own fecal matter and I had to get out and help get the car out of the muck. As I tip toed around piles of shit to do this, I realized how scary being in a game park really can be. If I were in the animal kingdom I would definitely be dead in ten minutes. You really just notice that at any moment something can just swoop you up and kill you. You really just feel so vulnerable. It’s kind of like accidentally soiling yourself in class last year and having to walk to your car while trying to avoid anyone you know so they won’t pick up your scent and tell everyone in Austin that you pooped yourself. That never happened. I swear.

Moving on…We drove around most of the day and at about 5 o’clock we arrived at Dave’s Backpackers near the game park. Dave is about 40 years old and runs this backpackers lodge where he does tours of the game park during the day. He sort of reminded me of someone you would see on “Dateline NBC” running away from the guy in the kitchen, only to be tackled moments later by the S.W.A.T. team assembled outside his front door. 8 year olds dude. We all ate dinner that night, which was prepared by a man drunker than Matt Ables on his 20th birthday in Eagle River (21 shots and the ship went down!), but it was surprisingly very delicious. After eating, Dave continued to tell us how amazing he was at doing this dance with a stick that had fire on the ends of it, so we humored him and asked him to do the dance for us. What happened next was just fabulous. He popped on an old Seal song that he thought was just absolutely amazing and started to dance in place with this stick on fire. He then started to twirl it around and try to flip it around his back, which is where he lost control of the stick and just missed setting himself on fire. He blamed the wind or the rotary gerter, 8 7 niner for the miscue. The looks on the faces of us in the crowd were astonishing. We were literally all hoping for this idiot to stop because we had this terrible feeling that he was going to fling the fire stick into the crowd. We then snuck off to bed early to escape the pyromaniac after the long day in nature. I worried the entire evening that a snake was going to crawl through the window so I slept on the top bunk. We walked into the cabin and I announced to the group, "I got dibs on top bunk." They replied, "Okay."

The next day we drove to the Jewish Florida South African town to go on a crocodile and hippo cruise which was great. We saw a bunch of animals in the river, but what fascinated me was everyone’s interest in seeing all these different types of birds. I mean, who fuckin cares. It’s a bird. They fly. They eat fish. They shit on your windshield. What’s the big deal? We stopped on this boat like ten times to see all these different birds. Each time we would stop D would look at Ingrid and I and just start laughing at these idiots taking twenty photos of these birds. These people were for the birds (Coach Bob joke). After the cruise we ate lunch and walked on the beach there a little bit. It was a nice way to end the weekend. It took us about 3 hours to get home, and when I did I crashed hard.

I had work this morning at 8 again, which just reminded me how much I hate to work. I got to work around 7:45 after Jeeves dropped me off and I got to make my first rounds with the doctors in the hospital wards. I basically walked around with a clipboard listening to the doctors diagnose patients waiting for them to acknowledge that I existed and ask for my opinion. I’m still waiting, because they said nothing to me. I really don’t understand why doctors have this smug attitude towards other workers in the hospital. Like, just because they have rectal thermometers in their pockets they feel like they can talk down to you. In their heads they say, “I can shove this up your ass, so stand there and keep your mouth shut.” I was really disappointed because I thought this would be like Grey’s Anatomy and I would meet a nice doctor broad in the utility closet at lunch like a big bowl of wrong, however all I got was a simple head nod from all the doctors. One doctor was wearing sun glasses. Fuckin prick. The only people who wear sunglasses indoors are blind people and assholes. I think we all know which one he was.

After rounds I went back to the office and had training on how to fill out intake forms. It took 2 hours. The form was 1 page. Now, for everyone that knows me, you know that I think of myself as a total putz and should be treated like an idiot. But this was just too much. I was shocked at how slow everything moved within the hospital and it really just pissed me off. I swear I could have seen like 30 people today and did intake forms with them, or just talked to them about their issues. This form is done after someone receives their diagnosis of HIV positive, and on it, it asks if you think that the client has psychosocial issues to deal with. And most of these forms are filled out with the “No” box checked off. Are you fucking kidding me? I shat my pants twice and I had psychosocial issues. Well, not me, it was someone I knew, but that’s not the point. These people just received news that they have H4 (as Coach Bob likes to call it) and they don’t need to talk to anyone about it? I know people in extensive therapy because they didn’t get asked to homecoming for three years of high school. Again, not me. I know people who need therapy because they think Martha Stewart is a sexual icon. Also not me. And these people just got the HIV and are just totally okay with it and don’t need to talk to anyone about it? It’s just mind boggling to me. I sat in an office all day and literally did nothing, and all of these people just go home without speaking to anyone about their diagnosis. It’s just very sad to me. For multiple reasons actually. One is obviously because I think they are clients that just fall through the cracks because the system here is lazy in a lot of ways. And another reason is because my caring shows that I actually want to do work, and this is a side of me that has never come out to play. It’s a side that wants to do nice things for people, which is just so rare. I tried to do one nice thing in my life when I was younger and it didn’t work out so I stopped after that. I was walking down the street and I saw an older lady crossing the road, but a car was coming at her and I yelled, “Hey watch out,” and she said, “Don’t you tell me what to do!” I mean, I just think that instead of seeing 10 clients a day, you should want to see 20. And anyone who gets a diagnosis should talk to someone, not just about the next steps of a drug regimen, but also how they are doing mentally with coping with this massive ordeal. Maybe I can bring it up in a staff meeting with Dr. Schmuck and Get the Fuck out of my way R.N. So that was basically my weekend and day. I posted some photos from this weekend and will add the rest soon. You stay classy planet earth. I’m Rooney Kaufman?

Comments on Comments

I would like to take this opportunity to answer my good friend Daniel J. Hazan's, editor in chief of End to End Magazine, comments post from a few days back. He asked a number of questions so I figured I would answer them the best I could and then respond to the few other comments that have been posted throughout the short duration of this schmidts blog. So far I have received some good feedback from readers and it looks like I haven't crossed the line quite yet, however my mother wrote to me and said I should tone down the swearing. I promise to tone down the 'fucks' mom. I wouldn't wanna fuckin offend anyone, especially my mom. For now on, I'll use earmuffs to warn people. (Earmuffs) Shit, I just saw a lizard in my room. Do I kill it? Or let it roam free and lay in fear all night that it will knaw my brain out? I hate those (earmuffs) fuckin things. It's so small though. Why should I be afraid of it? I could smash it into a million pieces, yet it scares the shit out of me. Speaking of that, what's with this travelers diarrhea business? I am traveling, and I haven't needed cottonelles once. (Earmuffs) Fuck, the lizard is moving closer. I'm definitely not sleeping tonight. Where's the Tylonal PM's? If I take one now I'll never wake up at 6 tomorrow. But the lizard. Shit. Maybe if I scare it, he will wander back outside. He's so small. Why am I scared? I'm scared of a lot of small things. Red ants. Bees. Other people's spit that accidently flies out of their mouths onto my clothing. Gregg Shankman. Just kidding buddy. My stomach's rumbling now. No way I just jinxed myself. I ate yogurt and an apple. That's supposed to be good for your stomach. Or, fruit speeds things up? But I drank water. That hydrates you. Maybe I'll pray that I don't get rhea. I prayed today at my orientation. We held hands and someone sang to Jesus. I just kind of bounced to the beat. I made up my own words though. One of them was schmidts and the other one was, well, you know. It rhymes with legs. The rumble stopped. (Earmuffs) Fuck yes, the lizard is gone! Glorious. Now I can sleep for 6 hours and wake up and sing my eggs and schmidts prayer. Maybe they will ask me to lead. People at work have been asking me if I am Jewish because apparently they heard it through the grapevine and I cannot tell you how tempted I've been to use the famous Larry David line involving asking that person if they wanted to check a specific body part. I've refrained. See mom, the blog is already getting cleaner. Holy (earmuffs) fuck, I just saw two lizards. I guess I'll be up all night. Ok, back to what this post was meant for. Answering comments by followers. I shall answer your calls and leave you satisfied. That's what she said.

Danny (and everyone else): Eagle River, WI is almost exactly like Durban however instead of hunting with sniper rifles they use semi automatic weapons and instead of Camp Ojibwa for boys they have street gangs of small children. I am going to try and teach them the hand routine later this week. There also isn't a Star Trek fan with one testicle that sings show tunes wandering the hospital grounds, but I haven't met everyone yet so I might be wrong. And to answer your last question, Like a Prayer is already in Durban so I cannot take credit for that, but Michelle Branch and Jessica Simpson are definitely going into the street gang jubilee during parents weekend. "Attention, Attention please, all memebers of the jubilee chorus please report to the rec hall now."

Michael and Mrs. Glen: Yes I am schmidts and thank you for confirming. The crystal cube that the broad in Las Vegas with braces sold me is sitting proudly on my parent's night stand. And a happy bday to the Mrs.

Lance: Clarkson will now make an appearance in every single blog post for the rest of time.

Well, (earmuffs) fuckin hell, I think that's about it. I have gotten IMs and emails asking for details about my trip thus far and my answer has been the same for each person. I am writing this because I don't wanna have 20 different stop and chats with people via email while I am here. So for those of you who have written long questioning emails, you can give yourself the same answer that I tell myself when I try to talk to broads at bars and they just kinda stare blankly around the bar to find someone better to talk to, which is, "Oh really, well I'll just go (earmuffs) fuck myself."

Schmidt. Out.

Driving Ms. Rooneggs

Today was the start of my working life. Literally. I realized when I woke up this morning that after this I wasn’t going to be doing any more school ever in my life, and that life would consist of waking up early and going to work everyday. I fucking hate work. Being a student is definitely the way to go. Wake up late. Go to class, sometimes. Eat Pluckers wings for dinner every night. Dance at Rain with seggsy broads every weekend. And now I gotta wake up at 6:30 am every day and go to work til 5? Fuck a duck.

But anyways, today was my first day of work. It started with me being picked up by my personal driver, Akay. I had to hire a driver to and from work every day because public transport isn’t very safe and walking uphill for 20 minutes in the blazing sun is both dangerous and insane. So I felt like Ms. Daisy while I rode to work this morning. His name is Akay because he wields that type of gun to deter muggers around Durban. Just kidding Mom. He’s a big time stud and has one of the coolest beards I have ever seen in my life. Super jealous. Anyways, I met my supervisor, Maud at work at 8 this morning and she and I chatted about my experiences with Social Work and my interests. She is awesome to be around and I am glad she is going to be my supervisor this semester. She and I walked around the hospital grounds to just get me oriented and on the way she introduced me to everyone we ran into. She is like a celebrity at the hospital so I met about 40 people this morning alone. I remember about 2 people’s names, but I’m sure I will get better. Zulu names are hard to pronounce but they were all impressed by my effort. I also realized that when shaking hands with someone here they do a cool handshake so they taught me how to do it so I felt Zulu. All I need now is to learn the click noise and they said I was in the club. They all said I need a tan because I am too white. I told em I was Jewish and they then understood why.

Maud also said she wants to get me a girlfriend so I will stay in KwaZulu-Natal to live. Shwing! But she said I would have to pay 11 cows to my future wives’ parents in order to get permission to marry her. A bit different than just asking Dad if it’s ok or just eloping to Vegas. Each cow is like 300 bucks and the father I guess can inspect the cow to make sure it is good enough to marry their daughter. I resisted the urge to quote Tommy Boy and say, “You can take a good look at a T-Bone steak by sticking your head up a bull’s ass, but wouldn’t you rather take the butcher's word for it?” I don’t think they would really get my movie quoting humor. She also wants to take me about 5 hours away to meet her family and hang out for the weekend. So after we walked around a bit we went to the children’s ward to meet the staff there. I met all of them and one of them invited me to their wedding. So February 28, get your dancing shoes on. I told everyone I can rock a mean Gooneybird so they should brace themselves.

Later on in the day I met Lisa, a social work graduate student from Florida State. Her experience in Durban thus far has been a bit sub par so she was excited to hear an American accent. I also met Brian, an American doctor who has been living in Africa for 3 years now. We talked about life here and how it is different from the states. He also almost cried about missing the Phillies win the world series since he's a Phillies fan. He told me his dad had visited him during the world series and almost wanted to murder him because he missed the series. If the Cubs ever made it to the series, VISA will definitely get some cash, cause I'd be home for sure. Right Coach? The rest of the day I hung out with Maud and often sat in on conversations she had with other staff while they spoke in Zulu and they laughed at me while I was trying to understand anything they were saying. I sat and smiled for the most it. Maud also asked me if I wanted to do community outreach to teenaged kids, which I think will be awesome so I think one day a week I will go out to rural areas and mentor younger kids and hang out with them for the day. She said there are literally no male social workers here so she thinks it’s gonna be great to have a male mentor for a lot of the kids at the hospital and also in the community. So that was cool to see how many different things I can do this semester. She also wanted me to try my poetry group I did last year at the high school with some people and see if I can get it to work. So this semester I’ll be a poet and know it and mow it like a lawn, eat a baby prawn, with little sean, and sip dom, like biggie and his mom. Sorry, got excited.

The day went by pretty fast and at the end of the day I gave Maud a famous “Margoth Moreno feather”. She loved it. So, great work Ms. Margoth. So overall the first day was chaotic and a success. The rest of the week I will spend doing some information sessions and trainings so I can be KwaZulu-Natal certified. Kinda scary huh? I’ll be certified to care for other people’s lives in two countries.

When I got home Thami and Ingrid, a Norwegian social work student, came over to hang out at my place and we talked about my first day and had some laughs. I ate Oreos for dinner while we talked. The best thing about that is that they don’t put much cream filling in the middle of the cookie here, so you can easily unlock the magic. And, while I was eating Thami laughed because he saw the resemblance of Ellen Degeneres and me. They also asked me what “schmidts” meant because they read my blog today. I didn’t even know where to begin. So maybe schmidts doesn’t translate to other cultures. But I think once they get to know me more it will make sense, because I realized today I am 100% Grade A Schmidts. So cue the ridiculously schmidts music sung by a sad broad and Meredith Grey’s sad life advice, because this…is…officially…Schmidt’s Anatomy.

George: I'm totally schmidts.
Big Broad Torres: I know. You gave it to me.
Hahn: You're half schmidts.
Meredith: McDreamy isn't schmidts.
McSteamy: I'm definitely not schmidts. Check out my chin strap beard.
Izzy: I see dead people.
Rooney: I'm schmidts, but not like George.
George: Hey McDreamy, do you have room in your trunk? Cause I'm gonna put my bike in it. HEY-OOO!

Zulu Language Lesson 101

So I have to learn Zulu while I am in Durban for work, so I figured we could all learn a little together. It's one of the more complex sounding languages I have ever heard, so I am sure we will all have a ball doing it. So put on your best pair of slacks and your reading glasses, cause class begins now...

Lesson 1: The Basics & Essentials
Words/Pronunciations/Easy Reminders

Hello – Sawubona (pronounced: 'sow-bona') (Bahhhston accent: I 'saw a bona' at the sawx game)
How are you – Unjani (prounounced: 'oon-joni') (Sopranos character 'oon joni' cakes)
Yes – Yebo (pronounced: 'yeh-bo') ('Yeh, bo' ties are totally seggsy these days)
No – Cha (pronounced: 'cha') (Chi 'cha' cha ha ha, go Illini go)
Eggs – Iqanda (pronounced: ('click sound-conda') (Fuck if I know how to relate a clicking noise to English)

Learn those words and we shall hold class again soon.

P.S. As I was writing 'Eggs' a monkey literally knocked on my door to try and get in. I jumped hard. He stared me down like he wanted to kill me, but maybe he heard about the job opening in my apartment. Eggs are treasures.

Sawubona From KwaZulu-Natal

Great Oden’s Raven this has been an interesting beginning to this trip thus far. I was supposed to leave Monday evening for Germany, however United Airlines decided to have some fun at my expense and delayed us six hours, made us get on and off the airplane twice, and then decided to cancel the flight all together at midnight. So I went back home, slept, ate Michael’s one last time, got a haircut, and did it all over again on Tuesday. The flight to Germany was ok. I watched Eagle Eye, a movie I have already seen and it couldn’t be any more schmidts if it tried, and then watched Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants 2, a movie I had not seen before. Now I know what you are thinking. Why would I watch a schmidts movie that I had already seen and then a movie that was a sequel to a movie that won the award for “Whoever watches this movie is just absolutely the most schmidts person on earth” at last years Oscar ceremony? I really don’t know why I do these things, but I do know that I tilted the screen on my mini TV down so no one else could see that I was watching the pants travel for 2 magical hours. We finally got to Germany and I had 12 hours to kill at the airport. I would have gone outside and seen the city, however it was about 12 degrees and I had a light sweatshirt on and didn’t want my eggs to freeze, so I got a hotel room across the street and passed out for about seven hours. One of the best decisions of my life. Amazing beds they have in Germany. It’s not often that a Jew can really appreciate something German, so the experience was excellent for me.

30 hours of traveling…My flight took off on time in Germany and I got to have an entire row of 4 seats to myself so I could lay down the whole trip. Eagle Eye was on again. I watched it. It was actually better the third time surprisingly. The flight was 10 hours and 40 minutes long, and if you ever have to fly that long sitting in a coach seat, you are probably better off just killing yourself before the flight because the experience is honestly like a stress test. I swear they are just waiting for someone to snap. It’s weird you don’t read more about people traveling long distances having mental breakdowns. I had an entire row to lay down in, but if I hadn’t, this blog would have been a lot shorter than I had intended it to be. You drink, eat, drink, eat, watch movies, eat, drink, stretch, bathroom, drink, and then you look at your watch and there are still 6 hours to go. We finally landed.

40 hours of traveling…It felt terribly like déjà vu as I landed in the Johannesburg airport waiting for my bags at the baggage claim. You see, six years ago I waited in the Kilimanjaro airport for my bag when I went to Africa the first time, and after about fifteen minutes of waiting I asked a security guard if my bag was coming and he said, “Not now, but in a few days you will get it.” That made no sense to me at the time. Why would it take a few days? Where is my bag actually? Did it take a vacation on it’s own and was going to meet me in a week? I didn’t understand how this was the answer I got, but he was actually right. A few days later after wearing the same clothes for a week or so I got my baggage minus most of everything inside of it, and had a wonderful experience. I felt like Eddie Murphy in Coming to America as he walked around Queens and saw everyone wearing his clothing around town after they had stolen his luggage. Maybe it was Africa’s way of getting us back. So, as I waited in Jo’burg I hesitated to ask the security guard next to me if my bag was coming, in fear that I might receive the same response as six years ago. I asked, he answered, and I felt terribly schmidts. I wasn’t that shocked really. I looked over at the sign above the South African Airline sign that says “60% of the time, our baggage check works every time”. Sounds about right. But it was after 40 hours of traveling and I really didn’t give a shit. I was on land! No more Eagle Eye, no more bad food, no more seat back in the upright position. So I woulda worn the same knickers for four months at that point. Oh wait, I had another flight to catch. Fuck. The dream was over. So I got on the flight to Durban a bit peeved, and the flight attendant made it worse because she gave me a hard time about putting my bag in the overhead bin and not under the seat in front of me. I wanted to pull a Ben Stiller in Meet the Parents and tell her she could take my bag if she could get it from my kung fu grip and start muttering ‘Bomb Bomb Bomb’ over and over again, but thought better of it. We took off and the guy next to me started chatting with me because he could tell I was American and asked me about Obama and Bush. He turned out to be a really cool guy. His name was Jammo, which is definitely in the running for my first-born’s name, boy or girl. He started telling me about South Africa and Durban and how awesome they were. He told me how Durban was founded by the Germans in 1904 and was called Durbaneinheimer, which in German means “A Whale’s Vagina.” That definitely sounded wrong but I let it slide. He was getting me pumped up to be there, but then he began telling me that if I wanted to walk around the city I should wear a bulletproof vest. Good tip Jammo. You really know how to calm a person down before they arrive in a new city. Don’t wear nice clothes. Don’t carry any cash. Don’t walk around alone. He basically gave me a list of don’ts. So as we landed I envisioned myself going to work completely nude, having swallowed my cash in a rubber balloon, and wasn’t really sure if that was the best idea for a Social Worker. There’s no way that it is that dangerous. People are just inherently worriers. Maybe all South Africans are like Jewish mothers. It’s like when you are young and your parents give you a list of don’ts because they are over-protective. Like don’t drink coke before bed. Don’t hit your brother. Don’t drive on the railroad tracks. Don’t poke dead birds with your fingers. Don’t be schmidts. It’s all garbage. They might all be good ideas, minus the last one, but no one really follows all of those rules. I didn’t, and I turned out to be kind of a big deal. So I pushed his advice to the back of my brain and rode a cab to my new apartment in Durban.

The apartment is one bedroom, but it’s actually really big and in a nice building that has monkeys living in the trees right next to it. A little different than the squirrels I am used to, but something about watching monkeys clean each other right outside your window makes you feel good inside. Maybe ill lure one into my apartment and train him to clean up around the house and attack intruders, but probably not because the building doesn’t allow pets. The woman who let me into the apartment, Kerri, took me to the mall to get some groceries and a cell phone, and kind of helped me set up the apartment. Her and her husband, Ron, then hung out with me later in the day and told me things in Durban that I should see. They seem really cool and told me if I ever needed anything that I should ask, so it’s nice to know someone in the building can help me if I need it. They actually helped me get my luggage from the airline after fifteen phone calls, so I could change into something clean and not smell like the shopping cart guy on 4th ave in Tucson. The smell was quite pungent. Stung the nostrils. I wanted to go out but didn’t know how to go about that, so I just hung out in my apartment solo feeling like fuckin Steven Glansberg. The next day I went to breakfast with this guy Thami who was friends with Rebecca, the woman who came to Durban from UT last year, and he took me around Durban a little bit to show me some stuff. He is a tour guide around South Africa and runs his own company, so he told me to pick out some tours I wanted to do while I was here and he would plan them for me and take me. It was really fun hanging out with him most of the day. He’s 28 and really funny, and since he is black, he was able to take me places in the city that I wouldn’t have been able to go to if I was by myself. We drove downtown and I was literally the only white person there. He was telling me stories about apartheid and how South Africa used to be and it was really interesting to hear him talk about it. But even after 14 years, it was apparent that things weren’t so great in South Africa. Thami was telling me that Jammo was right about going downtown on my own. He said it was like guaranteed I would get mugged. He actually got mugged outside his house a week ago. They took his money and cell phone and since he wouldn’t give up his car so they hit him in the eye with their guns. He has a huge bruise under his eye. He said it was his first time being mugged, and like a Jewish mom, gave me the list of don’ts. It was somewhat annoying having to deal with the reality that this city isn’t the most safe place on the planet, but before I could get really down, Thami hit the power button on the radio and on popped Kelly Clarkson. It was a sign from God. Everything would be fine.

After about three hours with Thami, he dropped me off at McCord Hospital, to meet my supervisor, Maud. She was really cool and nice to chat with. We talked about the job a little bit and about one another. She showed me my office and where I would be working. The hospital is more rural than I had expected, but seems like a good place to work. Apparently there are undergraduate social work students that will be working with me so she said I might have to mentor them a little bit. I said, “Of course,” but was thinking, “Ummm, poor children.” I start on Monday and it looks like I am going to get a highly intensive orientation hard next week, so I am a little nervous, but I’ll just cheat off the undergrad students if I have trouble. So that has basically been my experience thus far in Durban. I am waiting right now for Thami to pick me up from my place to go eat and go to the mall to pick up a few things for the apartment. I can’t handle another night of no A/C and no fan so I am going to get a fan. I honestly turn over and can hear my skin become unstuck from the bed sheets at night. I’ve lost at least 5 pounds of water weight. It’s so damn hot, milk was a bad choice. So tonight I’m sticking a fan to my dome hard. So I guess that is it. I know it’s a long first post in Africa, but I had time and no internet the first few days to post. I feel like my level of schmidts has not gone up or down quite yet since I’ve been here, but I am sure when I put my scrubs on Monday and can fit 8 of me in there star it will escalate a bit. I shall post again soon. And, if you’re schmidts and you know it clap your hands (I’m clapping right now).

Welcome to the Schmidts

I would like to formally welcome everyone to the most schmidts blog in the land. I started this blog so I could keep in touch with my friends and family while I was working abroad in South Africa, but more importantly I began writing because I thought it was time that everyone got to enjoy the unimaginable dialogue that takes place inside my head each day. I have a lot of things to share, so sit back, relax, and enjoy this amazing journey across the globe with me and hopefully by the end we all are 100% more schmidts than we were in the beginning. So hold on to your eggs, cause where we're going, we don't need roads.