Tia Dora / Teacher Dora

Primeiro ano primario. Eu tinha 6 anos. Estava empolgada sei la com o que, levantei da minha mesinha e dei um rodopio com um caderno na mao. Bracos estendidos. Como se eu fosse voar.
Por pouco nao acerto o olho do meu amiguinho, com a ponta do caderno.
Minha professora,a  Tia Dora, vem enlouquecida pra cima de mim e me da um tapa.
Juro. Um tapa.
Chego em casa e conto pra minha mae. No dia seguinte madrugamos na escola. Minha mae bufando...
Quando ela vai tirar satisfacao com a professora eu estou do lado, ouvindo a "conversa".
Tia Dora aquela vaca, diz:
- Eu nao bati nela. nao dei tapa nenhum nela.
Minha mae comeca a dizer que eu nao minto, a vaca professora olha pra mim e lasca:
- Eu nao te bati, bati, Inaie?
Meu sangue congelou. olhei pra ela e respondi em voz baixa, olhando pro chao:
- nao, nao bateu.

Eu estava morrendo de medo!!
Eu estudava num colegio batista. Essa fulana era pra ser uma educadora. onde foi que deu tudo tao errado?

First year of school. I was 6 years old. I was happy about something I can't even remember, so I stood up and swirled with joy. I had a notebook in my hand and it almost hit a colleague.
My teacher at the time, went bizarck, run towards me and slapped me. Slapped me.
I went home and told my mum. I am not sure I have words to describe how upset my mother was. Next morning, we were both at the school, to talk to the teacher before class started.
- Inaie said you slapped her.
The woman says;
- No, I did not.
Before my mother had the chance to say I did not lie, that cow who called herself an educator, looks at me, and continues:
- I did not slap you, did I?
In a very small voice i replied:
- no. you did not.

I was only 6. I was terrified of her. My blood still boils when i remember it. She was supposed to teach me, to guide me, to inspire me. I Can't believe how wrong it went...

INSURANCE

Why do we pay insurance? To feel protected or just to feel less vulnerable?

Of course my car has full insurance and after the accident, I had to make a claim. The process, once again was very intelectual and fullfilling.

- Sit there. That agent will help you.

I sit and wait

- I think it was your fault.
- WHAAAT?
- I think you were the person at fault at the accident.
- But I did not even give you the documents. You have no idea what happened...
- True. But you look guilty

** I swallow my desire to beat the crap out of him and give him the paperwork**

- You are not covered by the policy
- WHAAAAT?
- Not covered. Your driver was drunk
- Look, I do not speak, read or write in arabic, but my driver was not drunk. the pedestrian, who jumpedin front of my car was drunk. And I don't know the guy, have no conection, have no clue who he is.
- In the report it says it was your driver whow as drunk
** I swallow my hunger for violence and call Mr X - the same one who gave me a hard time getting the report, the same one who bought me lunch. In minutes the case was solved. The insurance guy hung up the phone, told me everything was ok, the pedestrian was drunk and it was not my fault. he also reimbursed me for the costs for the report and police charges. **

I went home quite happy, and ALMOST feeling guilty for thinking horrible things about the creepy police officer. After all he was probably not a bad person.
But don't get too excited, my insurance saga is not over...

next morning I get a phone call, 7 am from the insurance people:

- Hello! Your claim was rejected.
- But you approved it yesterday, I have all the papers.
- Come here and I explain

I had chills going down my spine once again. All that come here, all over again?

I had no option, so off I went. My stomach hurt, I felt sick and really angry. On my way there I called some friends and managed to get the number for a couple of lawyers. if things did not work, i would just go bananas and sue everyone.
After a long wait and lots of stupid and futile chat, i understand what they were trying to say:

The court case was not finished yet, so I had to pay the excess ( 125 US$) and give back the money they gave me yesterday ( 32 US$).
- So the claim was approved?
- Yes.
- And my car will be fixed?
- Yes.
- And you will pay the bill?
- Yes.
- AND WHO WILL PAY FOR MY BYPASS when I have a heart atack with this stupid phone calls?

Excommunicated? Almost...

Remember I described in details my wedding gown?
You forgot all about it already? No problem. Check it here .
The truth is: when the priest saw my gorgeous, amazing, sexy dress, he was furious and wanted to call off the ceremony and excommunicate me!
My mother, who does not believe in God, used her all her charm:

- Excommunicate her tomorrow, father. Today, let's just get this girl married...

The **#$@** banner in this blog

Well, I have received some messages from friends about a darn banner that keeps moving around in this page. I apologise for the annoyance, and I swear I am doing everything I can to get rid of it. So far, no luck!
Here are the facts:

- Inaie decides to get a funky/pretty/cool blog page.
- She goes to "the cuttestblog on the block
- Inaie gets one. Wohho!
- Inaie is happy with her blog design
- Inaie goes on holidays. Wohho II
- One morning, Inaie opens her beloved blog and the cute page is gone. On it's place, there is an annoying banner, saying the page is gone. DAAAAAHH
- Inaie tries to log on to the "cuttest blog on the block and it proves to be  all too complicated
- Inaie apologises to her readers and decides to deal with it when her hols are finished
- Hols over, Inaie tries once again to get rid of the thingy
- She tries the cuttest blog on the blog again - but notices there is another signature on the banner - photo bucket
- Inaie tries to log in to that company
- She tries all her usernames and password combinations, she makes some more up, the website just does not recognise her. The website dares to even suggest Inaie does no exist
- Inaie gets póff because she knows she DOES exist
- Inaie sends an e mail to photo bucket and the reply is quick:

Dear Inaie Ramalho,




The issue is due to thecutestblogontheblock.com website.

You used or purchased a template from them as many other people have and

the owner of the website is making alterations to the site

thus breaking image link in user's blog templates. You need to contact

thecutestblogontheblock.com OR remove the template from your blog.

We are really sorry for the frustration however we have zero control over this situation.

We have contacted the site directly and are still waiting on a resolution with them at this time.


- Inaie is now back to square one, and even more p'off

PAssports, visas and bureaucracy. WHAT A PAIN!

I only have a Brazilian passport. My grandma is Italian, but Italian women did not pass citizenship to her descendants until 1949. I am married to a Brazilian who is also Italian, however citizenship is not contagious and I can not get mine this way.

Twice I lived in New Zealand long enough to be entitled to a kiwi passport ( I am already a permanent resident), but I moved away while they were processing it, which made me lose my right. I have to "do my time again"

In short: all I have is a Brazilian passport.

One that makes it difficult for me to travel within the Gulf.

One that makes officials ask me several more questions when I am at their border.

One that makes my american visa request a pain.

One that creates problems when I travel alone to some countries. Brazilian? Alone? Sorry, no can do.

One that does not allow me to visit Iran (when all my French and Kiwi friends go without a hic up)

Now the bureaucrats in Bahrain decided not to renew my residence visa (2 year worth) because 'my visa will outlive my passport.

The Brazilian embassy can not give me a new passport because it still has one year to live, and there are enough pages available.

The American Embassy In Bahrain will not issue my tourist visa because I have no place of residence ( because the bureaucrats in Bahrain decided ...

And what should I do?

Sit on the floor and cry my eyes out?

Just yell until my lungs hurt and someone gives me a new passport or someone else just stamp the visas I need?

I am accepting advice.