I hope everybody enjoyed their weekend. Mine actually didn't make me want to kill people.
Friday was cool. I got my big work project done, my Godmommy called me and FI-ance sent me flowers. The Godmommy was in town to see family and because we were supposed to go wedding dress shopping. I had just sent her an email saying I wasn't ready when she called. Apparently Godmommies are smart like regular mommies because she realized awhile ago that I wasn't prepared for the dress thing without me even telling her.
I had told FI-ance about two months ago that he was going to have to start sending me flowers at work. I gave him a list of the types of flowers I liked and even emailed some visual aids to him. Many good occasions for flower giving have come and gone since then and I swear, guys, I thought I was gonna have to beat some flowers outta the boy. Then, right before I went to lunch on Friday I got a buzz from our receptionist, LC. A surprise delivery always makes me happy, but this made me squeal. FI-ance did really good; he gifted me with gerbera daises in three shades of pink!
Fridays have officially regained their coolness.
Saturday was basically good. We took Tux to the vet to get his rabies vaccine. This was after taking him two weeks earlier and not being able to get it done because Tux bit the holy-ever-loving-shit out of FI-ance while we were there. The vet found out and had to file some kind a rabies report and Tux had to be quarantined in our house. Yay! We got that done, had lunch at amazing local pizza place Fortel's (I'd never been before; definitely check them out if you're ever in St. Louis) and then started to get ready for my friend JS's wedding.
That's where things got a bit tricky. FI-ance and I almost always have to use the bathroom at the same time since we usually eat together. The problem is that we only have one bathroom of any kind in the house. Due to my stomach issues this year and his stomach issues this past week...well, we both had to do the same thing, but his urge hit a few minutes before mine. Thus, I was left pacing and sweating throughout the house.
I was trying to figure out how to sit in our mostly empty trash can when I heard him flush. Oh Sweet Glorious Jesus, thank you!! I rushed in before FI-ance had gotten to washing his hands and he was horrified. "Hang on...I just...haven't...oh God..." "Just don't look!" I pulled the shower curtain around me so he could pretend it wasn't happening. Worked for me, but I think FI-ance has been permanently scarred...
We now had about 20 minutes to get ready for the wedding. This was no longer going to work. I had to make the hard decision to skip the wedding and only head to the reception so that we'd both have time to get scrubbed and polished and ready for public viewing.
My stupid stomach started acting up at the reception and we left full of fried chicken and cake by 9pm.
Sunday was a sneezy, sleepy day. The weather was great and I was able to return to the basement and do a few loads of laundry. We ate leftover Fortel's, watched season 1 of Veronica Mars, Sunday night Fox cartoons and had a late dinner of Taco Bell. It was so great to stay the fuck at home for once on a weekend day.
Can't wait to do it again this weekend.
Monday, October 01, 2007
Thursday, September 27, 2007
My Weekend Sucked
Actually, every weekend in September has been sorta sucky because the activities just never stop. We always have somewhere we HAVE to go and need to get up early for. And in case you weren't sure, early for FI-ance and me on the weekend is anytime before 2pm.
Back to this weekend. I had an event at work that required waking up at--wait for it...6am. That's not a typo, people. The sun wasn't even up yet! Christ the Living Lord that's freakin' early!! FI-ance was committed to going with me and he was not happy at all about the get-up time. Especially since he wasn't feeling so good and hadn't for a couple of days. But, he did, even though I released him of his stand-by-your-woman duty, and I'm really proud of him.
This event required sitting in the sun at a local park from 7am until 10:30am. I thought I would have a tent and was not pleased with the whole sun-beating-down-on-me thing. But, I remained calm and pleasant. We left when FI-ance complained of stomach problems.
Turns out his belly wasn't the only thing bugging him, he ended up feverish, having chills that shook his whole body, severe abdominal pain and constipation. This was particularly fun to deal with once I developed a runny nose, sneezyness, mild nose bleeds, achy muscles, lethargy and mild diarrhea. So, we were both ill, the house is a mess, the yard looks like a forest and dirty, sick-people clothes are overflowing out of the laundry baskets.
After our wasted weekend neither of us felt much better on Monday. FI-ance announced that his "poopy parts hurt", and even though we were sent into fits of laughter by this non-funny fact, we knew we both needed to stay home.
I got dizzy every time I stood up, but tried desperately to get some laundry done. And what was my reward for this? A snake in the basement. Holy Hell, people! Can I get a brake, please? I had to call FI-ance down to look at it and see if I was indeed correct in my assumption, since it was all coiled up funny. I thought it was dead for a second because I blew on it and it didn't move (I know...real scientific). Then I turned away, and looking back noticed that it's snake-head had moved. Blahhhhhhhhhh!!!!!! Run! Get the cat! Hide! Grab it FI-ance! Do something!
We both ran upstairs, me to get as far away with Tux as possible and FI-ance to put on long sleeves, full pants, boots and utility gloves to hopefully not get bitten. Of course, snake didn't make it easy. When we got back downstairs it was gone from its previous position. I spotted it snaking its way behind the washing machine (thanks, God), and FI-ance used one of those old-people-can't-bend grabber things to catch it and throw it into the yard. I wanted him to put it into the empty lot behind us. He reminded me that "it can get through the links in the fence if it wants to, you know." I reminded him that "that is totally not the point. Not even a little bit."
I'm a bit scared to go into the basement now, even though I know the chance of the same or another snake appearing is probably slim (it's not like we live in the country). The real question is how much longer I can deal with dirty clothes littering the hall, thereby avoiding entrance to our own personal snake pit?
Back to this weekend. I had an event at work that required waking up at--wait for it...6am. That's not a typo, people. The sun wasn't even up yet! Christ the Living Lord that's freakin' early!! FI-ance was committed to going with me and he was not happy at all about the get-up time. Especially since he wasn't feeling so good and hadn't for a couple of days. But, he did, even though I released him of his stand-by-your-woman duty, and I'm really proud of him.
This event required sitting in the sun at a local park from 7am until 10:30am. I thought I would have a tent and was not pleased with the whole sun-beating-down-on-me thing. But, I remained calm and pleasant. We left when FI-ance complained of stomach problems.
Turns out his belly wasn't the only thing bugging him, he ended up feverish, having chills that shook his whole body, severe abdominal pain and constipation. This was particularly fun to deal with once I developed a runny nose, sneezyness, mild nose bleeds, achy muscles, lethargy and mild diarrhea. So, we were both ill, the house is a mess, the yard looks like a forest and dirty, sick-people clothes are overflowing out of the laundry baskets.
After our wasted weekend neither of us felt much better on Monday. FI-ance announced that his "poopy parts hurt", and even though we were sent into fits of laughter by this non-funny fact, we knew we both needed to stay home.
I got dizzy every time I stood up, but tried desperately to get some laundry done. And what was my reward for this? A snake in the basement. Holy Hell, people! Can I get a brake, please? I had to call FI-ance down to look at it and see if I was indeed correct in my assumption, since it was all coiled up funny. I thought it was dead for a second because I blew on it and it didn't move (I know...real scientific). Then I turned away, and looking back noticed that it's snake-head had moved. Blahhhhhhhhhh!!!!!! Run! Get the cat! Hide! Grab it FI-ance! Do something!
We both ran upstairs, me to get as far away with Tux as possible and FI-ance to put on long sleeves, full pants, boots and utility gloves to hopefully not get bitten. Of course, snake didn't make it easy. When we got back downstairs it was gone from its previous position. I spotted it snaking its way behind the washing machine (thanks, God), and FI-ance used one of those old-people-can't-bend grabber things to catch it and throw it into the yard. I wanted him to put it into the empty lot behind us. He reminded me that "it can get through the links in the fence if it wants to, you know." I reminded him that "that is totally not the point. Not even a little bit."
I'm a bit scared to go into the basement now, even though I know the chance of the same or another snake appearing is probably slim (it's not like we live in the country). The real question is how much longer I can deal with dirty clothes littering the hall, thereby avoiding entrance to our own personal snake pit?
Wednesday, September 26, 2007
Bad Blogger
OK, I know it's been over a month. Don't kill me internet denizens! I've been busy, sick and devoid of inspiration. Soon, all will be well again...
Tuesday, August 21, 2007
Fighting is Difficult
It started as a simple question. "Could you load the dishwasher?" I didn't think I'd made an unrealistic request. But, apparently, FI-ance thought differently. There was some under-breath grumbling of "OK" which I heard, disliked and decided to say something about.
"What's the problem? I unloaded and I asked you nicely to load. Why is it that every time I ask you to do something around the house you give me attitude about it?"
I was yelling from the living room, but I could hear more grumbling in response. And, I got really, seriously pissed. I put down my laptop, muted Access Hollywood on tv and went into the kitchen. I stood in the doorway.
"I don't understand. Don't you live in this house too? I would appreciate not getting attitude from you whenever I ask you to do something. You mow the lawn once every two weeks, but I do all the mopping, sweeping, dusting, laundry, vacuuming, straightening and bathroom cleaning. Guess what? You fucking dirty dishes too. I clean your dirty drawers. You take showers and walk on the floor and shit in the toilet too. How about fucking helping out a little bit?"
He protested a bit, and was obviously angry, but I think I scare him when I'm mad, so he didn't get too many words in. I walked away, sat back down at my laptop and continued with my trash tv.
We did not speak for an hour.
Then he started to put away his clean clothes (something I'd asked him to do the day before, by the way), as if to head off another attack. He was actually getting angrier. I went into the office to put my laptop away and start getting ready for bed. FI-ance was in there folding clothes. I was mostly ok now, so I opened the lines of communication.
"So, you still mad at me?"
"Well, I don't know."
"That sounds like a yes to me."
"Well, I really didn't like the way you talked to me. I don't ever want to fucking be talked to like that."
See? That right there got me angry all over again. He doesn't like how I spoke to him? A burst of fury shot through my body so great that it actually made me laugh out loud at the idea.
"Really? The only reason I talked to you like that is because I'd been disrespected. So, I responded in kind. If a child had spoken to you the way you answered me, you would have been equally as upset."
FI-ance gritted his teeth. But he was still folding...
"I worked fucking 12 hour days last week! What about that? You "got attitude" from me, whatever. It got done. I did it. I said I was sorry. What difference does it make?"
He threw a sock and started yelling. This is getting good.
"Don't even pull that. Before you came close to working all that overtime you gave me the same bullshit attitude when I asked you to do stuff. I do four fucking loads of laundry, running up and down the stairs, and when I ask you to put ONLY YOUR CLOTHES away you get bitchy about it. I expect you to care about this fucking house because you live here too. And the fact that I have to even ask you to do this shit is fucking ridiculous. That's the difference it makes. And, if you say you're sorry then act in the same fucked up way time and again, sorry don't mean shit."
I felt it coming on. Yeah, there it goes. I'm crying.
"You didn't like how I talked to you? I didn't like how you responded to me. I don't like being disrespected. I don't like being diminished. I don't like what I do here being ignored. How about that?"
I walked out and started getting ready for bed.
We didn't talk for another half hour.
Then, I was in the bathroom and sneezed. I heard a "Bless you" come from the bedroom. Wow, look who's not so fucking fired up anymore.
I got into bed and we talked by the light of Scrubs reruns on my little purple tv. I made him feel like a child. He's never been good at chores. His mom got on him about the same things. His grumbled response earlier was him holding back because he knew he was becoming irrationally angry at being asked to help out. He's knows he was a jerk wad. He's realized that I do pretty much everything around the house. He's sorry. He'll try to do better.
He talked about work again and how tired it makes him. I mentioned that it's not 1890 and I go to work too and still somehow manage to get things done at home.
FI-ance begged me not to gloat. I said I had no plans to. He said he couldn't promise he wouldn't slip up. I promised to try to remind him gently, but I also told him that the more attitude I get from him about this crap the more he needs to expect in return. I don't ever plan to let that shit go.
We kissed and said goodnight and, basically, made up.
"What's the problem? I unloaded and I asked you nicely to load. Why is it that every time I ask you to do something around the house you give me attitude about it?"
I was yelling from the living room, but I could hear more grumbling in response. And, I got really, seriously pissed. I put down my laptop, muted Access Hollywood on tv and went into the kitchen. I stood in the doorway.
"I don't understand. Don't you live in this house too? I would appreciate not getting attitude from you whenever I ask you to do something. You mow the lawn once every two weeks, but I do all the mopping, sweeping, dusting, laundry, vacuuming, straightening and bathroom cleaning. Guess what? You fucking dirty dishes too. I clean your dirty drawers. You take showers and walk on the floor and shit in the toilet too. How about fucking helping out a little bit?"
He protested a bit, and was obviously angry, but I think I scare him when I'm mad, so he didn't get too many words in. I walked away, sat back down at my laptop and continued with my trash tv.
We did not speak for an hour.
Then he started to put away his clean clothes (something I'd asked him to do the day before, by the way), as if to head off another attack. He was actually getting angrier. I went into the office to put my laptop away and start getting ready for bed. FI-ance was in there folding clothes. I was mostly ok now, so I opened the lines of communication.
"So, you still mad at me?"
"Well, I don't know."
"That sounds like a yes to me."
"Well, I really didn't like the way you talked to me. I don't ever want to fucking be talked to like that."
See? That right there got me angry all over again. He doesn't like how I spoke to him? A burst of fury shot through my body so great that it actually made me laugh out loud at the idea.
"Really? The only reason I talked to you like that is because I'd been disrespected. So, I responded in kind. If a child had spoken to you the way you answered me, you would have been equally as upset."
FI-ance gritted his teeth. But he was still folding...
"I worked fucking 12 hour days last week! What about that? You "got attitude" from me, whatever. It got done. I did it. I said I was sorry. What difference does it make?"
He threw a sock and started yelling. This is getting good.
"Don't even pull that. Before you came close to working all that overtime you gave me the same bullshit attitude when I asked you to do stuff. I do four fucking loads of laundry, running up and down the stairs, and when I ask you to put ONLY YOUR CLOTHES away you get bitchy about it. I expect you to care about this fucking house because you live here too. And the fact that I have to even ask you to do this shit is fucking ridiculous. That's the difference it makes. And, if you say you're sorry then act in the same fucked up way time and again, sorry don't mean shit."
I felt it coming on. Yeah, there it goes. I'm crying.
"You didn't like how I talked to you? I didn't like how you responded to me. I don't like being disrespected. I don't like being diminished. I don't like what I do here being ignored. How about that?"
I walked out and started getting ready for bed.
We didn't talk for another half hour.
Then, I was in the bathroom and sneezed. I heard a "Bless you" come from the bedroom. Wow, look who's not so fucking fired up anymore.
I got into bed and we talked by the light of Scrubs reruns on my little purple tv. I made him feel like a child. He's never been good at chores. His mom got on him about the same things. His grumbled response earlier was him holding back because he knew he was becoming irrationally angry at being asked to help out. He's knows he was a jerk wad. He's realized that I do pretty much everything around the house. He's sorry. He'll try to do better.
He talked about work again and how tired it makes him. I mentioned that it's not 1890 and I go to work too and still somehow manage to get things done at home.
FI-ance begged me not to gloat. I said I had no plans to. He said he couldn't promise he wouldn't slip up. I promised to try to remind him gently, but I also told him that the more attitude I get from him about this crap the more he needs to expect in return. I don't ever plan to let that shit go.
We kissed and said goodnight and, basically, made up.
Thursday, August 16, 2007
Recently...
1) I've realized that the shirt I wore today is simply too tight. I think I may need to Goodwill it. Also, the shirt is red and my pants are green. I thought about this briefly before leaving the house and decided I didn't care. Now I've changed my mind.
2) Becoming addicted to home/design blogs. I blame the wedding stuff for leading me into the dark pit of designery. Where I never have enough money to buy or time to make the beautiful things they show me. Damn them!
3) I miss cooking. It's too fucking hot to turn the oven on repeatedly and hours at a time. Where's Fall when you need her.
4) Speaking of cooking, I've found what I believe could be the recipe for my wedding cake. Originally I was set on a split lemon cake with cream cheese frosting, and this recipe adds blueberries to the mix. I plan to make it this weekend. I'll let you know how it turns out.
5) Those damn design blogs. All of those bloggers are real crafty and now I've got a hankering for making stuff. The desire was heightened by a visit to FI-ance's workplace, where he does computer tech for an elementary school. We had to go in the art room, oh God. I had forgotten the smell of paints, pastels and charcoal. I loved it as a kid and that visit Monday night brought it all back to me. I cleaned out the desk that FI-ance's grandmother willed to him then filled it with my artsy stuff. I need a desk pad sturdy enough for crafts and to get my inspiration board up. Then, I'll have an art corner in our office. I'm excited, but also worried that I'll disappoint myself if I don't regain the artiness of my childhood. My goal is to keep going even if that does happen.
6) Fi-ance works really hard at his job. Two weeks ago he worked several hours off the clock when he felt back-to-school duties piling up on him. We had an argument over the phone when he refused to ask for overtime pay because he didn't want to look incompetent. I thought to not at least ask was insane, especially considering that he was working 10 to 12 hours a day. I hung up on him, angry that I'd spend another night alone and we wouldn't even get extra cash out of it. I immediately felt bad and called him to apologize. He came home earlier than expected that night. Last week he bit the bullet and asked for overtime, he was told to take as much as he needed, I spent Friday and Monday night at work with him. Friday we left at 1:14 am (yes, Saturday morning) and Monday we were done a little after midnight. I love my hard-workin', money-makin' man!
7) Sweet Magical Jesus, it's outrageously hot outside. Temperatures have been over 100 degrees for several days and the humidity should be punishable by law. Our poor AC is running non-stop and has a really hard time keeping the house below 80 degrees. Seriously, I need Fall!
8) We have a huge list of things to accomplish around the house. Every time we take vacations from work we plan to get stuff done. We usually don't. Between the little everyday things (loading/unloading the dishwasher, vacuuming...), the big projects (caulk holes around the house, clean and paint the basement stairs, get more kitchen cabinets, a fence and better blinds) and trying to relax something always gets left behind.
9) I need to get out of town. FI-ance and I are planning to take vacation days on the last day of this month so we get a four day Labor Day weekend. We may head to Tulsa for a couple of those to fill up on Whataburger and Taco Cabana.
10) S.P., the other woman in my department at work, suggested I get a better headset for my phone. You know, so I can walk around and do other things while also talking to callers. Yeah, that's exactly what I want, Ms. Works-Through-Her-Lunch, to talk to crazy people on the phone even more during the day. Get a grip, bitch.
2) Becoming addicted to home/design blogs. I blame the wedding stuff for leading me into the dark pit of designery. Where I never have enough money to buy or time to make the beautiful things they show me. Damn them!
3) I miss cooking. It's too fucking hot to turn the oven on repeatedly and hours at a time. Where's Fall when you need her.
4) Speaking of cooking, I've found what I believe could be the recipe for my wedding cake. Originally I was set on a split lemon cake with cream cheese frosting, and this recipe adds blueberries to the mix. I plan to make it this weekend. I'll let you know how it turns out.
5) Those damn design blogs. All of those bloggers are real crafty and now I've got a hankering for making stuff. The desire was heightened by a visit to FI-ance's workplace, where he does computer tech for an elementary school. We had to go in the art room, oh God. I had forgotten the smell of paints, pastels and charcoal. I loved it as a kid and that visit Monday night brought it all back to me. I cleaned out the desk that FI-ance's grandmother willed to him then filled it with my artsy stuff. I need a desk pad sturdy enough for crafts and to get my inspiration board up. Then, I'll have an art corner in our office. I'm excited, but also worried that I'll disappoint myself if I don't regain the artiness of my childhood. My goal is to keep going even if that does happen.
6) Fi-ance works really hard at his job. Two weeks ago he worked several hours off the clock when he felt back-to-school duties piling up on him. We had an argument over the phone when he refused to ask for overtime pay because he didn't want to look incompetent. I thought to not at least ask was insane, especially considering that he was working 10 to 12 hours a day. I hung up on him, angry that I'd spend another night alone and we wouldn't even get extra cash out of it. I immediately felt bad and called him to apologize. He came home earlier than expected that night. Last week he bit the bullet and asked for overtime, he was told to take as much as he needed, I spent Friday and Monday night at work with him. Friday we left at 1:14 am (yes, Saturday morning) and Monday we were done a little after midnight. I love my hard-workin', money-makin' man!
7) Sweet Magical Jesus, it's outrageously hot outside. Temperatures have been over 100 degrees for several days and the humidity should be punishable by law. Our poor AC is running non-stop and has a really hard time keeping the house below 80 degrees. Seriously, I need Fall!
8) We have a huge list of things to accomplish around the house. Every time we take vacations from work we plan to get stuff done. We usually don't. Between the little everyday things (loading/unloading the dishwasher, vacuuming...), the big projects (caulk holes around the house, clean and paint the basement stairs, get more kitchen cabinets, a fence and better blinds) and trying to relax something always gets left behind.
9) I need to get out of town. FI-ance and I are planning to take vacation days on the last day of this month so we get a four day Labor Day weekend. We may head to Tulsa for a couple of those to fill up on Whataburger and Taco Cabana.
10) S.P., the other woman in my department at work, suggested I get a better headset for my phone. You know, so I can walk around and do other things while also talking to callers. Yeah, that's exactly what I want, Ms. Works-Through-Her-Lunch, to talk to crazy people on the phone even more during the day. Get a grip, bitch.
Wednesday, August 08, 2007
Wedding Schmedding (Part 2)
FI-ance will have all his credit card debt paid off in about 10 months. This is real cool for several reasons: he will be able to get his own credit card for when we have an emergency and need extra funds, we'll be able to throw more cash at my credit card debt, and, the biggie, we'll actually have more cash available for wedding stuff. Now, thankfully, my Godmommy has offered to pay for my dress and I've joyfully agreed. Not one to take advantage, I'm still sticking to designs that are $200 or less and am pleased to find that it's totally possible to do.
However, part of the reason FI-ance and I haven't been traipsing all over the St. Louis area looking at halls and such is that no matter how cheap (by comparison)a place is, it still seems outrageously expensive. Twenty-three dollars per person for chicken, mashed potatoes, a roll and some salad? Why are you trying to kill me? Or is it that you want me to kill you? Because, seriously? I'm tempted. That's just with the places that do their own catering. To have a reception in a spot that doesn't do their own food would cost at least $1,000. Did you hear that, internet? That's the price WITHOUT FOOD. And I've checked the unusual locations: parks, gardens, museums and planetariums. They want $2,000 to $3,000. That is ridiculous.
We could cut down on the cost by having a smaller gathering. Mostly this would mean not inviting everyone I work with, just the few that I really talk to often. But, this is the thing, I only work with 17 other people. How much bad will would I incite if I invite only, say, 6 of those people? Should I care? Does it matter that the office standard is to invite everybody or nobody from work? Again, do I care? Let's say they all come and bring somebody. That's 34 people that I may or may not want to feed and have get drunk on our dime. What to do, y'all...what to do...
Adding to this financial stress is FI-ance's (I think unfounded) irritation over his folks not offering to help us out. Let me explain the situation. About four years ago FI-ance had a job that literally drove him crazy - to the point where he needed to be medicated into a semblance of normalcy. He quit, because he couldn't take it anymore, without any other job prospects and no idea what to do next. Not wanting to go back into the same field (he was a journalist) and with little of his own savings he moved back in with his folks and went back to school. His folks paid for one year of college and took care of his bills as he went back to school and worked odd jobs here and there for spending money.
Now, I've explained to FI-ance that I think there are several reasons why he shouldn't get pissed at his peeps for not offering financial assistance: they took him in and paid for some schooling and all his bills while he figured himself out, maybe they haven't gotten around to it yet, he's 36 and I'm 32 - it's not their fault we don't have savings for this wedding thing, and, he has no idea what they have for retirement. It's entirely possible that they planned for 1 wedding and 1 college stint for each kid, so that when FI-ance went to school a second time it used up whatever wedding fund they may have had for him.
I think this all sounds perfectly reasonable, but FI-ance is still pissed that they haven't offered. He's all, "But I had a scholarship the first time around and they hardly had to pay anything and they asked me to move in with them when I went back to school and then held it over my head and I still owe them from that so aren't we even since they're not giving us money now?" What? To me, all that matters is that they've offered hands-on help with the planning, something my mom hasn't done.
Speaking of that. I know she's ultra preoccupied with taking care of my Grandmother, but she really doesn't seem interested in this wedding stuff at all. Thank God I'm not any more girly about it than I currently am or I'd be seriously hurt by her causualness. As it is, it hurts a bit anyway. For a few days I thought I'd found a dress on ebay. I told her and she didn't even ask what it looked like. She just goes "Oh, so what if you lose weight?" She hasn't asked to see dress ideas or offered to call wedding/reception sites. I brought her over to the house a couple of weekends ago and showed her the dress options I've gotten so far, even the ones she said she liked she didn't seem happy about.
Someone at work that I talked to about this mentioned that since mom got divorced herself she may be nervous about the whole idea. It's a good point, and something that I hadn't thought of, but all I really want is for her to show some interest. I don't think that's too much.
I've handled all this by registering at Target, Home Depot, Macy's and JC Penney and shopping without consequence. My goal now is to register wherever they give you free stuff for registering. The search is on.
However, part of the reason FI-ance and I haven't been traipsing all over the St. Louis area looking at halls and such is that no matter how cheap (by comparison)a place is, it still seems outrageously expensive. Twenty-three dollars per person for chicken, mashed potatoes, a roll and some salad? Why are you trying to kill me? Or is it that you want me to kill you? Because, seriously? I'm tempted. That's just with the places that do their own catering. To have a reception in a spot that doesn't do their own food would cost at least $1,000. Did you hear that, internet? That's the price WITHOUT FOOD. And I've checked the unusual locations: parks, gardens, museums and planetariums. They want $2,000 to $3,000. That is ridiculous.
We could cut down on the cost by having a smaller gathering. Mostly this would mean not inviting everyone I work with, just the few that I really talk to often. But, this is the thing, I only work with 17 other people. How much bad will would I incite if I invite only, say, 6 of those people? Should I care? Does it matter that the office standard is to invite everybody or nobody from work? Again, do I care? Let's say they all come and bring somebody. That's 34 people that I may or may not want to feed and have get drunk on our dime. What to do, y'all...what to do...
Adding to this financial stress is FI-ance's (I think unfounded) irritation over his folks not offering to help us out. Let me explain the situation. About four years ago FI-ance had a job that literally drove him crazy - to the point where he needed to be medicated into a semblance of normalcy. He quit, because he couldn't take it anymore, without any other job prospects and no idea what to do next. Not wanting to go back into the same field (he was a journalist) and with little of his own savings he moved back in with his folks and went back to school. His folks paid for one year of college and took care of his bills as he went back to school and worked odd jobs here and there for spending money.
Now, I've explained to FI-ance that I think there are several reasons why he shouldn't get pissed at his peeps for not offering financial assistance: they took him in and paid for some schooling and all his bills while he figured himself out, maybe they haven't gotten around to it yet, he's 36 and I'm 32 - it's not their fault we don't have savings for this wedding thing, and, he has no idea what they have for retirement. It's entirely possible that they planned for 1 wedding and 1 college stint for each kid, so that when FI-ance went to school a second time it used up whatever wedding fund they may have had for him.
I think this all sounds perfectly reasonable, but FI-ance is still pissed that they haven't offered. He's all, "But I had a scholarship the first time around and they hardly had to pay anything and they asked me to move in with them when I went back to school and then held it over my head and I still owe them from that so aren't we even since they're not giving us money now?" What? To me, all that matters is that they've offered hands-on help with the planning, something my mom hasn't done.
Speaking of that. I know she's ultra preoccupied with taking care of my Grandmother, but she really doesn't seem interested in this wedding stuff at all. Thank God I'm not any more girly about it than I currently am or I'd be seriously hurt by her causualness. As it is, it hurts a bit anyway. For a few days I thought I'd found a dress on ebay. I told her and she didn't even ask what it looked like. She just goes "Oh, so what if you lose weight?" She hasn't asked to see dress ideas or offered to call wedding/reception sites. I brought her over to the house a couple of weekends ago and showed her the dress options I've gotten so far, even the ones she said she liked she didn't seem happy about.
Someone at work that I talked to about this mentioned that since mom got divorced herself she may be nervous about the whole idea. It's a good point, and something that I hadn't thought of, but all I really want is for her to show some interest. I don't think that's too much.
I've handled all this by registering at Target, Home Depot, Macy's and JC Penney and shopping without consequence. My goal now is to register wherever they give you free stuff for registering. The search is on.
Monday, July 30, 2007
Wedding Schmedding (Part 1)
So, I bet you wanna know where I've been the past couple of weeks. I've been knee deep in all sorts of wedding crap. And yet, have accomplished nothing. No, really. We still don't know where we're having this shindig. FI-ance and I haven't tasted cakes or caterer's food options or visited any wedding/reception halls. The most proactive I've been with this stuff is to buy too many wedding magazine (I'd originally told myself I'd only get two and then find everything else out online...ha!), get sucked into a gabillion wedding sites and amass a hugess pile of pages ripped from magazines for ideas (a pile that is taking over my once neat home office desk and living room table).
I made the mistake of going into David's Bridal two Saturdays ago. You know what I've discovered? I am the natural enemy of bridal shops. It's not like I've never been in one before, I was a bridesmaid in 2001 and had to take a couple of fittings in one, but somehow this was different. I didn't like it at all. There was too much white everywhere (I know...duh) and it wasn't arranged like a normal store. Plus, they pissed me off because they only had about 5 chubby girl dresses in my size and they were all oogley...you know, puffy and trainy and froofy and shit. Thanks David's Bridal. That's exactly what I need. A dress that will make me look like I weigh 342lbs instead of 242lbs. Whew! I didn't think ANYBODY would understand (assholes)!
I left, with FI-ance in tow of course, in a huff. It was all too bridey, with a capital B.R.I.D.E. Also irritating me? There was a skinny bitch on some pedestal trying on a really pretty dress. Her stomach was flat and she probably wasn't even in a girdle. Fucker.
I was convinced I should never set foot in another bridal store for my own wedding again. I went home, ordered this dress from Lane Bryant and was happy. Then I checked my email. My dearest Godmommy wrote me and offered to buy my dress and go shopping with me. My cold, anti-bride heart melted. I replied with an enthusiastic "Yes, thank you so much Godmommy!!" and decided to keep the dress that was on the way just in case I need to go to the Oscars or something.
Pray for the bridal shops, people. I'll be there in September.
I made the mistake of going into David's Bridal two Saturdays ago. You know what I've discovered? I am the natural enemy of bridal shops. It's not like I've never been in one before, I was a bridesmaid in 2001 and had to take a couple of fittings in one, but somehow this was different. I didn't like it at all. There was too much white everywhere (I know...duh) and it wasn't arranged like a normal store. Plus, they pissed me off because they only had about 5 chubby girl dresses in my size and they were all oogley...you know, puffy and trainy and froofy and shit. Thanks David's Bridal. That's exactly what I need. A dress that will make me look like I weigh 342lbs instead of 242lbs. Whew! I didn't think ANYBODY would understand (assholes)!
I left, with FI-ance in tow of course, in a huff. It was all too bridey, with a capital B.R.I.D.E. Also irritating me? There was a skinny bitch on some pedestal trying on a really pretty dress. Her stomach was flat and she probably wasn't even in a girdle. Fucker.
I was convinced I should never set foot in another bridal store for my own wedding again. I went home, ordered this dress from Lane Bryant and was happy. Then I checked my email. My dearest Godmommy wrote me and offered to buy my dress and go shopping with me. My cold, anti-bride heart melted. I replied with an enthusiastic "Yes, thank you so much Godmommy!!" and decided to keep the dress that was on the way just in case I need to go to the Oscars or something.
Pray for the bridal shops, people. I'll be there in September.
Wednesday, July 18, 2007
Life Sucks, Then You Pay Taxes, Shit and Die...Or Something Like That (Part 2)
I did some checking. Wanna know why nobody likes to deliver to my 'hood? A pizza delivery lady was sexually assaulted, beaten and mugged here just over a year ago. Goddammit! Of course I'd heard of it, but I didn't realize it was my specific new neighborhood that it happened in. Also? A cop was shot and killed here around the same time. Also again? Our particular neighborhood in a really classy, upper-middle class section of St. Louis has always had a bad rep. I grew up several miles from here, how the hell was I supposed to know that?
We thought we'd done all the checking we needed to. The average income is about the same as ours, the crime stats were about the same as the area I lived in for over eight years. We never thought to ask if any cops had been murdered in the area.
But wait, that's not all! We've dealt with many minor indignities that lead us to believe that there's still a general "I don't give a fuck about anybody else" attitude around. People (adults even!) constantly walk through our yard. At 1am on July 5, actually, we were getting home from some festivities and unloading FI-ance's car. A guy about 20-25 years old walked past us. FI-ance said "good evening." Do you know that punk ass bitch didn't even look at FI-ance? He put his head down, said nothing, walked through our yard with us standing there watching him and then jumped our back fence! Shit, people! Things like this is why FI-ance has left the poison ivy on the fence. I hope that man now has poison ivy burns on his ballsack.
That same week we had our cars keyed (FI-ance has only had his since February). We've had to deal with "the yardbirds", a group of party people who for some reason need to blast music at all hours, stand in the front yard next to us, take up our parking spaces (we don't have a garage), argue and curse loudly and then leave their beer bottles on our lawn. People throw trash in our yard. Somebody chewed food and then spit globs of it all over my car. (I had to drive to work like that!) People are constantly stopping their cars in the middle of the street to talk to folks on the sidewalk, or worse, in another car, so you can't even get around them if you want to. Kids refuse to use the sidewalk. Whole huge groups of them walk the streets, and when you give them dirty looks when they won't get out of the way they look at you like you've done something stupid, wrong and unnecessary. Random guys stand around on random corners looking like they've got nothing to do. Come on, people. This is how pizza ladies get raped...Let's move it along, Johnny.
I think that ridiculous list pretty much covers it. We don't know how much of this we can stand, so we're already looking at houses online. The trick will be trying to sell our little home that needs a bit of work when brand new places won't sell. FI-ance and I are a bit beside ourselves with disappointment, anger and incredulity. This is some fine mess we've gotten ourselves into.
In addition? We may need to move instead of having a wedding next year. Lovely. Thanks, cop-killing assholes*.
(*They did catch all the major criminals, by the way. But...still.)
We thought we'd done all the checking we needed to. The average income is about the same as ours, the crime stats were about the same as the area I lived in for over eight years. We never thought to ask if any cops had been murdered in the area.
But wait, that's not all! We've dealt with many minor indignities that lead us to believe that there's still a general "I don't give a fuck about anybody else" attitude around. People (adults even!) constantly walk through our yard. At 1am on July 5, actually, we were getting home from some festivities and unloading FI-ance's car. A guy about 20-25 years old walked past us. FI-ance said "good evening." Do you know that punk ass bitch didn't even look at FI-ance? He put his head down, said nothing, walked through our yard with us standing there watching him and then jumped our back fence! Shit, people! Things like this is why FI-ance has left the poison ivy on the fence. I hope that man now has poison ivy burns on his ballsack.
That same week we had our cars keyed (FI-ance has only had his since February). We've had to deal with "the yardbirds", a group of party people who for some reason need to blast music at all hours, stand in the front yard next to us, take up our parking spaces (we don't have a garage), argue and curse loudly and then leave their beer bottles on our lawn. People throw trash in our yard. Somebody chewed food and then spit globs of it all over my car. (I had to drive to work like that!) People are constantly stopping their cars in the middle of the street to talk to folks on the sidewalk, or worse, in another car, so you can't even get around them if you want to. Kids refuse to use the sidewalk. Whole huge groups of them walk the streets, and when you give them dirty looks when they won't get out of the way they look at you like you've done something stupid, wrong and unnecessary. Random guys stand around on random corners looking like they've got nothing to do. Come on, people. This is how pizza ladies get raped...Let's move it along, Johnny.
I think that ridiculous list pretty much covers it. We don't know how much of this we can stand, so we're already looking at houses online. The trick will be trying to sell our little home that needs a bit of work when brand new places won't sell. FI-ance and I are a bit beside ourselves with disappointment, anger and incredulity. This is some fine mess we've gotten ourselves into.
In addition? We may need to move instead of having a wedding next year. Lovely. Thanks, cop-killing assholes*.
(*They did catch all the major criminals, by the way. But...still.)
Saturday, July 14, 2007
Life Sucks, Then You Pay Taxes, Shit and Die...Or Something Like That (Part 1)
Yeah, home ownership is a fine thing. Unless you're like me and the FI-ance. We bought this house at the end of December, moved in January and are just now finally getting things to look the way we want them to. We did the actual moving ourselves and it wore us out. It was the only instance where I'd seen my own stuff so much that I simply didn't want to deal with it for months on end. I mean, it took at least two months to get rid of all the boxes!
And now, now that we finally feel settled, we've had to face the cold, hard facts about something: WE ACCIDENTALLY MOVED INTO THE GHETTO.
Don't misunderstand, internet. It's not like the neighborhood is a war zone. We're not constantly hearing gunshots or police sirens; we don't feel unsafe. And the place looks good, most of the houses are brand new or recently updated. But...but there are some things, mostly small things, that are building up and making us think that...deep breath now...we may need to move next year.
Examples? Well, the first sign we totally ignored. And that was that many of the brand new houses in our area are simply not selling. Including the gorgeous behemoth right next door to us. You know how they say to follow your gut? Your "first mind", your instinct? I didn't. I don't know if FI-ance was at all worried about the unsold-but-on-the-market-for-months brand new home next to what would become our first place, but I did. It was in the back of my mind. Underneath "Oh my God! We found a house!" and behind "It's so cute! It's a perfect starter place!" and somewhere to the left of "I get to decorate! I get to decorate!" If I had just paid attention to that nagging little feeling.
Then, we moved. And we had no appliances for a day or two, but (would you believe?) we still got hungry. Pizza was the natural choice. Except, no one would deliver. We called four different places, some of them a mere five minutes away, and they all said no. One even specifically said, "we don't deliver there after dark." What? I mean...huh? Seriously? Fuck all. What the hell is going on?
Tune in tomorrow for "As the Ghetto Turns"...
And now, now that we finally feel settled, we've had to face the cold, hard facts about something: WE ACCIDENTALLY MOVED INTO THE GHETTO.
Don't misunderstand, internet. It's not like the neighborhood is a war zone. We're not constantly hearing gunshots or police sirens; we don't feel unsafe. And the place looks good, most of the houses are brand new or recently updated. But...but there are some things, mostly small things, that are building up and making us think that...deep breath now...we may need to move next year.
Examples? Well, the first sign we totally ignored. And that was that many of the brand new houses in our area are simply not selling. Including the gorgeous behemoth right next door to us. You know how they say to follow your gut? Your "first mind", your instinct? I didn't. I don't know if FI-ance was at all worried about the unsold-but-on-the-market-for-months brand new home next to what would become our first place, but I did. It was in the back of my mind. Underneath "Oh my God! We found a house!" and behind "It's so cute! It's a perfect starter place!" and somewhere to the left of "I get to decorate! I get to decorate!" If I had just paid attention to that nagging little feeling.
Then, we moved. And we had no appliances for a day or two, but (would you believe?) we still got hungry. Pizza was the natural choice. Except, no one would deliver. We called four different places, some of them a mere five minutes away, and they all said no. One even specifically said, "we don't deliver there after dark." What? I mean...huh? Seriously? Fuck all. What the hell is going on?
Tune in tomorrow for "As the Ghetto Turns"...
Wednesday, July 11, 2007
So...
If someone is going to sweat their way through a slightly depressing July 4 fireworks party at an assisted living facility only to get hit in the head by overzealous bottle rocket debris, we all know that it's totally going to happen to me, right?
This was the best holiday EVER!
This was the best holiday EVER!
Tuesday, July 10, 2007
Just...Barely
Friends of the internet, I cannot convey to you how difficult it is to get back to work after a five day vacation. July 4 landing in the middle of the week was an absolute blessing, but now I'm experiencing severe lethargy whenever "work" is mentioned or merely thought of.
And yet, I'm here. Although in spirit I'm totally still in bed, just like I was on July 4,5,6,7 and 8. What's to be expected until my next vacation? The phone will ring but I won't pick it up. I will not respond to messages or emails in a timely fashion. I will not get to work on time even though I'll try real hard to and the filing won't get done. However, what I will do is write blogs on work time, save as much actual work as possible for as late in the day as possible, read magazines, take long lunches and surf fashion/gossip sites as often as I can get away with.
Basically, I will do as little as humanly possible. Will my efforts be successful? No. Likely not.
And yet, I'm here. Although in spirit I'm totally still in bed, just like I was on July 4,5,6,7 and 8. What's to be expected until my next vacation? The phone will ring but I won't pick it up. I will not respond to messages or emails in a timely fashion. I will not get to work on time even though I'll try real hard to and the filing won't get done. However, what I will do is write blogs on work time, save as much actual work as possible for as late in the day as possible, read magazines, take long lunches and surf fashion/gossip sites as often as I can get away with.
Basically, I will do as little as humanly possible. Will my efforts be successful? No. Likely not.
Friday, June 29, 2007
Baffling
I had a dream last night that a woman I used to work with invited me to stay with her for the weekend. I packed too much jewelry for a weekend trip; that was the crux of the dream. I was really freaked out that there was so much jewelry in my bag and apparently I had no jewelry roll so it was all tangled up.
Obviously my mind is trying to tell me I'm a super genius.
Obviously my mind is trying to tell me I'm a super genius.
Monday, June 25, 2007
All Quiet On The Western Front
Well, the past few days have been pretty uneventful. I'm procrastinating on about a million things: cleaning, organizing papers, scanning polaroids, turning my loads of cassette tapes from the '80s and '90s into mp3's, looking into more wedding things-including scanning lady of honor dress ideas and sending them to my bud Andrea, folding laundry, selling stuff on half.com, working on the screenplay...Dear God! I could go on but the list is getting depressing.
I was doing really good for a bit, making lists and checking things off as I did them, then feeling really adult and accomplished. But that's fallen by the wayside a bit and I'm committing now, for all the internet to see, to getting that flow back.
I made some very small steps on Thursday toward starting my own business. I made up business cards and a stamp and ordered them! I know, that sentence doesn't seem like it really needed an exclamation point, but it honestly did. See, those things filled two needs: shopping (yay!) and moving ever so slowly ahead with my career aspirations. I've decided to concentrate on two things, my photography (which I know I haven't spoken much about) and my script consulting. I've even started two new websites catering to each. This one is for my photographs, you'll soon be able to buy prints of everything on here once I figure out how to set that up. This site is for my movie reviews and to lead folks to info on my script consulting. There's nothing there just yet, I've got plenty of reviews I could post, but this is another thing I've procrastinated on.
Take a look at them and let me know what you think!
I was doing really good for a bit, making lists and checking things off as I did them, then feeling really adult and accomplished. But that's fallen by the wayside a bit and I'm committing now, for all the internet to see, to getting that flow back.
I made some very small steps on Thursday toward starting my own business. I made up business cards and a stamp and ordered them! I know, that sentence doesn't seem like it really needed an exclamation point, but it honestly did. See, those things filled two needs: shopping (yay!) and moving ever so slowly ahead with my career aspirations. I've decided to concentrate on two things, my photography (which I know I haven't spoken much about) and my script consulting. I've even started two new websites catering to each. This one is for my photographs, you'll soon be able to buy prints of everything on here once I figure out how to set that up. This site is for my movie reviews and to lead folks to info on my script consulting. There's nothing there just yet, I've got plenty of reviews I could post, but this is another thing I've procrastinated on.
Take a look at them and let me know what you think!
Monday, June 11, 2007
I'm Having A Nervous Breakdown, And Other Items Of Note
6/10/07: FI-ance flops down on the couch one last time. It's the last time because HE BROKE MY COUCH. I am less than pleased. He knows this and begs me not to stop loving him, then tries to fix it with a mallet and does a pretty good job. I have decided to continue letting him touch me.
I share a bowl of cookie dough ice cream covered in turtle magic shell with the FI-ance at 10pm. Then, I head back to the quart and dig out all the cookie pieces I can find in the top half. My stomach disagrees with these decisions. My toilet's not happy about it either.
6/9/07: The FI-ance takes Lila to get an oil change while I wait at home for the Orkin man. He has them check the brakes too, since we know they're winding down. The mechanics say, "What brakes? This car has no brakes." I put $600 on the "emergency only" credit card.
While in the Wal-Mart parking lot, I make FI-ance get out of the car and dispose of a spider on my windshield. He refused to kill it and instead knocked it off with a huff. That's better than nothing.
6/8/07: We have money again. In celebration we go to a new place for dinner, Pueblo Solis. I eat way too many chips and get full before my enormous chicken fajitas get to me. I eat some anyway, and dammit they are GOOD. FI-ance needs "to calm everybody down" so we head to Ted Drews for ice-creamy goodness.
6/7/07: The FI-ance and I take mental health days from work. At about 3:15 I go to pay bills online and realize we've got a negative balance. We head to my old bank to withdraw cash to add to the joint account. I've forgotten my atm password and begin screaming. FI-ance tries to reassure me, saying we can go inside, so I pull over. I lose it. Cursing, screaming, crying, banging on the wheel and dash, throwing things and scaring the bank employees standing outside smoking. Because of this my mental health day was not very healthy, but was totally mental.
6/6/07: FI-ance has a night of gaming as I go slowly insane over possible wedding stuff. After having hope restored, I realize again we have no money for even a small service and reception. I begin to panic and cannot fall asleep until almost 4am. I wake up at dawn to pee and see that FI-ance is still playing Empire at War (some geekfest Star Wars thing). I encourage him to stay home from work since he drives a lot on twisty roads and has had no sleep. He'll only stay home if I do. Not a problem at all.
6/2/07: I've become obsessed with wedding planning. In my search for an affordable location and caterer I see that it all costs too much. I complain to the FI-ance and begin to cry. He offers a suggestion and things seem brighter. Still, I cry myself to sleep. I am such a girl.
5/31/07: A really strange night. As I get ready for bed I notice a huge cockroach in the hall near the laundry baskets. I begin to scream. FI-ance is in the bathroom and takes time out of his busy schedule to let me know he can't help right now. NO SHIT. I smash the beast with a phone book right in front of the closed bathroom door, then jump up and down on it to make sure it's passed on. I lift the book and there is a stain much worse than you can imagine. I know I will never feel the area is clean enough so I have FI-ance bleach it (I know, it turned an odd pink color) and then put a bundle of abandoned Tux fluff on it so the spot is clearly marked.
I try to calm myself by cleaning up a bit. One of the necklaces I laid on the dresser that day is missing. I immediately know who to blame...Tux. I become hysterical, yelling as I look high and low. "I've only had that necklace for two weeks and now it's gone? WHAT THE HELL, TUX?! Why do you hate me? Can't you for once stop being so destructive and mischievous? Why can't I have nice things anymore? Why do boys mess up everything...?"
I cry myself to sleep on the couch. And what's the first thing I see when I wake up? That's right, another roach, but this time in the living room. I chase it across the room into the hall and then the bathroom, spraying it all the way. I corner it and make it die. I pull up the bathroom rug to wash it, and find my necklace. Everything really does happen for a reason.
I wake up in the morning completely worn out. I head out to my car for work and see that some lovely person has eaten something they didn't like AND SPIT GLOBS OF IT ALL OVER LILA. Really? This is the kind of neighborhood we moved into? Honestly? I am frustrated and angry but there is no one nearby for me to kill. I drive to work with hardened food all over my car. I do not care about the staring.
I share a bowl of cookie dough ice cream covered in turtle magic shell with the FI-ance at 10pm. Then, I head back to the quart and dig out all the cookie pieces I can find in the top half. My stomach disagrees with these decisions. My toilet's not happy about it either.
6/9/07: The FI-ance takes Lila to get an oil change while I wait at home for the Orkin man. He has them check the brakes too, since we know they're winding down. The mechanics say, "What brakes? This car has no brakes." I put $600 on the "emergency only" credit card.
While in the Wal-Mart parking lot, I make FI-ance get out of the car and dispose of a spider on my windshield. He refused to kill it and instead knocked it off with a huff. That's better than nothing.
6/8/07: We have money again. In celebration we go to a new place for dinner, Pueblo Solis. I eat way too many chips and get full before my enormous chicken fajitas get to me. I eat some anyway, and dammit they are GOOD. FI-ance needs "to calm everybody down" so we head to Ted Drews for ice-creamy goodness.
6/7/07: The FI-ance and I take mental health days from work. At about 3:15 I go to pay bills online and realize we've got a negative balance. We head to my old bank to withdraw cash to add to the joint account. I've forgotten my atm password and begin screaming. FI-ance tries to reassure me, saying we can go inside, so I pull over. I lose it. Cursing, screaming, crying, banging on the wheel and dash, throwing things and scaring the bank employees standing outside smoking. Because of this my mental health day was not very healthy, but was totally mental.
6/6/07: FI-ance has a night of gaming as I go slowly insane over possible wedding stuff. After having hope restored, I realize again we have no money for even a small service and reception. I begin to panic and cannot fall asleep until almost 4am. I wake up at dawn to pee and see that FI-ance is still playing Empire at War (some geekfest Star Wars thing). I encourage him to stay home from work since he drives a lot on twisty roads and has had no sleep. He'll only stay home if I do. Not a problem at all.
6/2/07: I've become obsessed with wedding planning. In my search for an affordable location and caterer I see that it all costs too much. I complain to the FI-ance and begin to cry. He offers a suggestion and things seem brighter. Still, I cry myself to sleep. I am such a girl.
5/31/07: A really strange night. As I get ready for bed I notice a huge cockroach in the hall near the laundry baskets. I begin to scream. FI-ance is in the bathroom and takes time out of his busy schedule to let me know he can't help right now. NO SHIT. I smash the beast with a phone book right in front of the closed bathroom door, then jump up and down on it to make sure it's passed on. I lift the book and there is a stain much worse than you can imagine. I know I will never feel the area is clean enough so I have FI-ance bleach it (I know, it turned an odd pink color) and then put a bundle of abandoned Tux fluff on it so the spot is clearly marked.
I try to calm myself by cleaning up a bit. One of the necklaces I laid on the dresser that day is missing. I immediately know who to blame...Tux. I become hysterical, yelling as I look high and low. "I've only had that necklace for two weeks and now it's gone? WHAT THE HELL, TUX?! Why do you hate me? Can't you for once stop being so destructive and mischievous? Why can't I have nice things anymore? Why do boys mess up everything...?"
I cry myself to sleep on the couch. And what's the first thing I see when I wake up? That's right, another roach, but this time in the living room. I chase it across the room into the hall and then the bathroom, spraying it all the way. I corner it and make it die. I pull up the bathroom rug to wash it, and find my necklace. Everything really does happen for a reason.
I wake up in the morning completely worn out. I head out to my car for work and see that some lovely person has eaten something they didn't like AND SPIT GLOBS OF IT ALL OVER LILA. Really? This is the kind of neighborhood we moved into? Honestly? I am frustrated and angry but there is no one nearby for me to kill. I drive to work with hardened food all over my car. I do not care about the staring.
Friday, May 18, 2007
In the Middle of the Night
"Hey, I didn't think you'd be getting back in bed."
"It's 4:30 in the morning, why would I not get back in bed?"
"I don't know. Maybe you went and joined a cult."
*smack*
"That's my girl. Not joining a cult."
"It's 4:30 in the morning, why would I not get back in bed?"
"I don't know. Maybe you went and joined a cult."
*smack*
"That's my girl. Not joining a cult."
Thursday, May 10, 2007
Pretty Pretty Shiny
You know internet, every time I think "damn, I really need to get a job I actually want to work at during the day," I get distracted by something shiny. Like a magazine. I'd much rather read a magazine than send out cover letters and resumes and try to convince people more ambitious than myself that I'm worthy of employment. Why am I so fucking lazy when it comes to getting out of this crap job?
You know what else is shiny? Engagement rings that come with the matching wedding band. Yeah, baby. Those are totally fucking shiny. Mama loves that kinda shine. I finally got my ring ordered on Tuesday. I found it by chance a couple of months ago while searching Overstock.com just to see what was out there. This doesn't need mentioning, but I'm saying it anyway...It. Is. FUCKING. SWEET! And we got a great deal on it, it was about 1/2 off the regular price. Even better? I should get it tomorrow!
I know what you're thinking. But what about the surprise? Having the FI-ance spring it on you at some fancy restaurant or mid-air on a ferris wheel while you eat funnel cake? What about the romance? Where's the cute story in ordering your own ring? Well, I ain't gonna lie. I would love that. Which is why, when Mr. FedEx brings that ring to my j.o.b. tomorrow I'm going to fight with all my heart the urge to just slap that puppy on my finger. Seriously, internet, I've thought about it. I can do this. Open the box, make sure it's ok, and then close it up and not tell anyone I've got it.
When I get home it goes to the FI-ance and he's in charge of figuring out a way to present it to me so that it's all special and shit. And, this has to happen before the weekend is over.
You hear that, boy? SPECIAL PRESENTATION. BEFORE. THE WEEKEND. IS. OVER.
You know what else is shiny? Engagement rings that come with the matching wedding band. Yeah, baby. Those are totally fucking shiny. Mama loves that kinda shine. I finally got my ring ordered on Tuesday. I found it by chance a couple of months ago while searching Overstock.com just to see what was out there. This doesn't need mentioning, but I'm saying it anyway...It. Is. FUCKING. SWEET! And we got a great deal on it, it was about 1/2 off the regular price. Even better? I should get it tomorrow!
I know what you're thinking. But what about the surprise? Having the FI-ance spring it on you at some fancy restaurant or mid-air on a ferris wheel while you eat funnel cake? What about the romance? Where's the cute story in ordering your own ring? Well, I ain't gonna lie. I would love that. Which is why, when Mr. FedEx brings that ring to my j.o.b. tomorrow I'm going to fight with all my heart the urge to just slap that puppy on my finger. Seriously, internet, I've thought about it. I can do this. Open the box, make sure it's ok, and then close it up and not tell anyone I've got it.
When I get home it goes to the FI-ance and he's in charge of figuring out a way to present it to me so that it's all special and shit. And, this has to happen before the weekend is over.
You hear that, boy? SPECIAL PRESENTATION. BEFORE. THE WEEKEND. IS. OVER.
Wednesday, May 09, 2007
Chocolate Ass
I almost cried last night. The urge quickly degraded into short bursts of nervous laughter, but just barely.
What exactly is the issue with boys and messiness? I do not understand. The solution is so simple. Put your jacket in the coat closet. Hang up your pants. Sell those old video games or get rid of them. Why is my FI-ance so hard to train?
To his credit, he's not horrible at keeping up with stuff. As he said last night, "I'm way neater than most straight men." And yeah, he's probably right about that, but I cannot get him to finally do the few things that would make our house look like a real home. And it's not like I'm asking for the place to look like a magazine layout. It just needs to be more organized. I admit some of this is on me (not taking the Goodwill stuff to the donation center, leaving my box of books to sell under the coffee table...), but more of it is the FI-ance.
Case in point. Last night we watched tv from the couch and ate on the coffee table. We always do this because we are tv/movie people and we are also food people. And we don't have a dining room table or enough space in the kitchen to eat in there. After we finished I started to clear things away. The FI-ance shifted in his seat and I saw something.
"Stand up."
"I hope there isn't going to be any yelling."
"Stand. Up."
He did. And what the hell, for the SECOND time in LESS THAN seven days...HE HAD SAT ON CHOCOLATE. I am not even kidding, internet. He's 36 years old and twice this month the man has SAT on food on my couch. What the Hell is wrong with him?
"I'm sorry baby. Please don't be mad at me. I don't mean to sit on food. Really I don't do it on purpose...Come on...I'm a BOY. I'm messy."
I was slowly dissolving. In the grand scheme this is nothing. He's nice and helpful and caring and he bathes. But this? This matters too, internet! And he thinks it's all so funny. I came so close to crying but just couldn't. Why did I want to cry? Because after having the couch for four years I finally got BRAND NEW COUCH COVERS just last month. And every week sees a new stain. Courtesy of the FI-ance. Spaghetti sauce, pizza sauce, computer dirt, and now (twice) chocolate.
So he apologized a lot, but it sorta doesn't matter. I know he didn't mean to do it, but he laughed through the whole apology!
"That's why we got the covers, so we can wash them."
"As much as you spill food they'll be thread-bare in less than a month."
"Oh, honey, come on. What do you expect from me?"
"I expect you to not fucking sit on chocolate! You didn't even move! How does food get UNDER your ass when you don't even move! What the fuck is wrong with you!? From now on I wash the clothes, underwear and towels, and you can wash the sheets, blankets and slipcovers. Seriously fucker."
I didn't go to bed angry or anything because I was never angry. Just really, abidingly disappointed. I feel like I should just serve dinner on the couch. Fuck all the dishes we've got. Or dye the covers (Did I mention the couch is natural colored? Oh yes, it's that bad.) black so nothing but cat hair ever shows.
Dammit, internet! Why can't a girl living with a boy have nice things? Whhhhyyyyy!?
What exactly is the issue with boys and messiness? I do not understand. The solution is so simple. Put your jacket in the coat closet. Hang up your pants. Sell those old video games or get rid of them. Why is my FI-ance so hard to train?
To his credit, he's not horrible at keeping up with stuff. As he said last night, "I'm way neater than most straight men." And yeah, he's probably right about that, but I cannot get him to finally do the few things that would make our house look like a real home. And it's not like I'm asking for the place to look like a magazine layout. It just needs to be more organized. I admit some of this is on me (not taking the Goodwill stuff to the donation center, leaving my box of books to sell under the coffee table...), but more of it is the FI-ance.
Case in point. Last night we watched tv from the couch and ate on the coffee table. We always do this because we are tv/movie people and we are also food people. And we don't have a dining room table or enough space in the kitchen to eat in there. After we finished I started to clear things away. The FI-ance shifted in his seat and I saw something.
"Stand up."
"I hope there isn't going to be any yelling."
"Stand. Up."
He did. And what the hell, for the SECOND time in LESS THAN seven days...HE HAD SAT ON CHOCOLATE. I am not even kidding, internet. He's 36 years old and twice this month the man has SAT on food on my couch. What the Hell is wrong with him?
"I'm sorry baby. Please don't be mad at me. I don't mean to sit on food. Really I don't do it on purpose...Come on...I'm a BOY. I'm messy."
I was slowly dissolving. In the grand scheme this is nothing. He's nice and helpful and caring and he bathes. But this? This matters too, internet! And he thinks it's all so funny. I came so close to crying but just couldn't. Why did I want to cry? Because after having the couch for four years I finally got BRAND NEW COUCH COVERS just last month. And every week sees a new stain. Courtesy of the FI-ance. Spaghetti sauce, pizza sauce, computer dirt, and now (twice) chocolate.
So he apologized a lot, but it sorta doesn't matter. I know he didn't mean to do it, but he laughed through the whole apology!
"That's why we got the covers, so we can wash them."
"As much as you spill food they'll be thread-bare in less than a month."
"Oh, honey, come on. What do you expect from me?"
"I expect you to not fucking sit on chocolate! You didn't even move! How does food get UNDER your ass when you don't even move! What the fuck is wrong with you!? From now on I wash the clothes, underwear and towels, and you can wash the sheets, blankets and slipcovers. Seriously fucker."
I didn't go to bed angry or anything because I was never angry. Just really, abidingly disappointed. I feel like I should just serve dinner on the couch. Fuck all the dishes we've got. Or dye the covers (Did I mention the couch is natural colored? Oh yes, it's that bad.) black so nothing but cat hair ever shows.
Dammit, internet! Why can't a girl living with a boy have nice things? Whhhhyyyyy!?
Monday, April 30, 2007
Wild Kingdom
I'm not used to animals. You know that, right? I mean, I'm finally used to the Tuxikitten and he still freaks me out sometimes, with all his cat-like sneakiness and appearing out of nowhere.
Anyway, we've got about six stray cats that hang out in the neighborhood. They like to wander from yard to yard, peeing and eating things. Imagine my surprise as I sat in the FI-ance's car yesterday and watched one of the strays coming from our yard. That alone isn't a big deal. But, as kitty got closer to the car I noticed a freaky sight--KITTEN HAD A KILL IN ITS MOUTH.
Oh God, ya'll. I have never seen anything like it. Whatever Killerkitten was carrying was pretty damn big and fuzzy. Aside from the horror that that thing might've been caught in our yard, I watched in shock as Killer dropped its prey, sat down in our yard and began to play with it. Then, of course, Killer started gnawing. It was like watching a train wreck happen, you know there's carnage and pain but you're so stunned it's in front of you that you can't look away.
And, obviously, since I'm all freaked out, the FI-ance is totally ambivalent: "Aww, that's a good kitty cat. That kitty cat's doing its job, being a good little hunter...ewww." Luckily he drove away before we saw much more. Also lucky? When we got home The Killer and The Dead were completely gone from our yard. Not a single trace of the circle of life was in place. Thank God.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------
You know internet, I really like you. So, as a friend, I'm going to give you some advice: don't ever issue threats to spiders. Do what you need to, but don't say anything about it, because they'll find out and they will not be happy.
So, after all my trauma last Saturday night I spent the week going back and forth in Lila trying not to think about the new species I'd discovered in the car then. Everything was fine because ignorance is utter bliss. Thursday changed that.
I was trying to get to work and running late as usual. I threw my things in the car and did a quick look inside to make sure no spideys were apparent. As soon as I take off I notice another huge , white spider hiding in the space between the side mirror and the thing that holds the mirror onto the car. I actually remained fairly calm. Spidey was away from me and I couldn't get to him in there going 80mph, so I figured I'd wait until I hit a light after getting off the highway. Which is exactly what I did.
I keep a can of cheap air freshener in my car for just this reason. It kills and freshens. Brilliant! I sprayed the bugger and he tried to escape by crawling toward my window which I quickly rolled back up and saw that he rolled himself into a little ball...I thought.
At the next light legs appeared wriggling and I realized what I'd done. When I rolled up the window I sorta...cut the spider in half. I know! Stop it, I feel bad enough already! I have no love for spiders, but I don't want them to suffer when I dispense of them. And I absolutely don't want to watch them suffer. It's been days now, and every now and then I see those three legs and half body waving about wildly, almost like it's begging for help. Then the motion stops and it falls on the door and the wind blows it away. Man! It was actually sad and I still feel terrible about that. I swear I try to be humane in my kills.
Well, then all Hell broke loose. It was like every spider in the tri-state area knew what I'd done. They came out of every crease and crevice in my car. They lined up on the dash board wearing little gas masks and carrying shields. Ok, not really but that's what it seemed like. Have you ever tried to kill spiders while driving alone? I could have died.
As I pulled into the garage at work I had to stop suddenly and take off my shoe to kill one that came out near the top of my head. Then another one jumped down from a web on my door. I couldn't get the shoe off again so I sprayed it and it fell God knows where. That was the last straw. I pulled over and jumped out of the car. I could not find that fucker anywhere so I started spraying every surface in the car with Glade. I spritzed every little corner, seam, and most of the floor. Nothing. No sign of it. After about 15 minutes of screaming (yes, at the car in the garage at work as people came and went around me...what was I supposed to do?), sweating, spraying and praying I quickly got back in, parked and jumped out. I had one of the valets wash and vacuum Lila while I was at work. I gave him a five dollar tip.
On Friday I had a realization: if I treat the car with the bug spray I used in the house I should be ok. Since I found a web inside my car this morning, I believe I'll be doing that tonight.
Anyway, we've got about six stray cats that hang out in the neighborhood. They like to wander from yard to yard, peeing and eating things. Imagine my surprise as I sat in the FI-ance's car yesterday and watched one of the strays coming from our yard. That alone isn't a big deal. But, as kitty got closer to the car I noticed a freaky sight--KITTEN HAD A KILL IN ITS MOUTH.
Oh God, ya'll. I have never seen anything like it. Whatever Killerkitten was carrying was pretty damn big and fuzzy. Aside from the horror that that thing might've been caught in our yard, I watched in shock as Killer dropped its prey, sat down in our yard and began to play with it. Then, of course, Killer started gnawing. It was like watching a train wreck happen, you know there's carnage and pain but you're so stunned it's in front of you that you can't look away.
And, obviously, since I'm all freaked out, the FI-ance is totally ambivalent: "Aww, that's a good kitty cat. That kitty cat's doing its job, being a good little hunter...ewww." Luckily he drove away before we saw much more. Also lucky? When we got home The Killer and The Dead were completely gone from our yard. Not a single trace of the circle of life was in place. Thank God.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------
You know internet, I really like you. So, as a friend, I'm going to give you some advice: don't ever issue threats to spiders. Do what you need to, but don't say anything about it, because they'll find out and they will not be happy.
So, after all my trauma last Saturday night I spent the week going back and forth in Lila trying not to think about the new species I'd discovered in the car then. Everything was fine because ignorance is utter bliss. Thursday changed that.
I was trying to get to work and running late as usual. I threw my things in the car and did a quick look inside to make sure no spideys were apparent. As soon as I take off I notice another huge , white spider hiding in the space between the side mirror and the thing that holds the mirror onto the car. I actually remained fairly calm. Spidey was away from me and I couldn't get to him in there going 80mph, so I figured I'd wait until I hit a light after getting off the highway. Which is exactly what I did.
I keep a can of cheap air freshener in my car for just this reason. It kills and freshens. Brilliant! I sprayed the bugger and he tried to escape by crawling toward my window which I quickly rolled back up and saw that he rolled himself into a little ball...I thought.
At the next light legs appeared wriggling and I realized what I'd done. When I rolled up the window I sorta...cut the spider in half. I know! Stop it, I feel bad enough already! I have no love for spiders, but I don't want them to suffer when I dispense of them. And I absolutely don't want to watch them suffer. It's been days now, and every now and then I see those three legs and half body waving about wildly, almost like it's begging for help. Then the motion stops and it falls on the door and the wind blows it away. Man! It was actually sad and I still feel terrible about that. I swear I try to be humane in my kills.
Well, then all Hell broke loose. It was like every spider in the tri-state area knew what I'd done. They came out of every crease and crevice in my car. They lined up on the dash board wearing little gas masks and carrying shields. Ok, not really but that's what it seemed like. Have you ever tried to kill spiders while driving alone? I could have died.
As I pulled into the garage at work I had to stop suddenly and take off my shoe to kill one that came out near the top of my head. Then another one jumped down from a web on my door. I couldn't get the shoe off again so I sprayed it and it fell God knows where. That was the last straw. I pulled over and jumped out of the car. I could not find that fucker anywhere so I started spraying every surface in the car with Glade. I spritzed every little corner, seam, and most of the floor. Nothing. No sign of it. After about 15 minutes of screaming (yes, at the car in the garage at work as people came and went around me...what was I supposed to do?), sweating, spraying and praying I quickly got back in, parked and jumped out. I had one of the valets wash and vacuum Lila while I was at work. I gave him a five dollar tip.
On Friday I had a realization: if I treat the car with the bug spray I used in the house I should be ok. Since I found a web inside my car this morning, I believe I'll be doing that tonight.
Tuesday, April 24, 2007
I Love Lila
Lila Ford is my pewter 1998 Ford Escort. Yeah, I know they don't make those anymore. She needs new brakes. There are several cracks and one brand new fracture on her windshield. (Really, it's surprising that I haven't had to have the windshield replaced by now. I always get stuck on the highway behind some rickety Fred Sanford junk truck with rusty rakes, old couches and other beat-up crap hanging outta the back. And they have those humongoid mud flaps that, instead of just moving the street stuff away from the truck, make every pebble fly at me at 3,000 miles per hour. Hence. The cracks.)
Lila's horn has a short in it. I can only hit the side of the horn with the little ABS etching in it, or the horn sounds...and won't stop. The light on the gear shift has gone out and I keep forgetting to get it replaced, so when it's dark I have to turn the overhead on to make sure I'm in the right gear.
I love my Lila Ford. She is the first car I've ever owned. I bought her brand new when I'd been out of college for a little over a year. Actually, it was August 14, 1998. Yeah, I remember it that well. After four years of using St. Louis' slow-ass busses and (pretty cool but often crowded) Metro-Link, I remember well the day I no longer had to ride with the funky, loud and crazy. Or the occasional stray chicken bone.
Even though I love Lila I have not been a very good mommy as of late. Like, in the last three years. Because that's how long it's been since I've washed my car.
Oh my God! Do not judge me internet! I swear I've meant to. I can't take her to one of those gas station car washes because I've always heard that they take the paint off. With apartment living, and no hose, can you imagine how difficult and time consuming it was to carry buckets back and forth to clean her? Well, I did it. For years, I did it. And prior to that I paid to have it done, every month. I was good for a while I really was. Then I found these giant handi-wipe like things that cleaned the car without water. They took a lot of elbow grease but I used them for over a year. Then? Then...
I got lazy and Lila got dirty. There's a fine coat of dust on her dash. The floor is littered with little dead leaves, scraps of paper and a bit of dried brownie (God that brownie was good). When the FI-ance and I moved I put a plant in the trunk. It promptly tipped over and rolled around as I drove even though I thought it was well braced. How much do you want to bet that the dirt is still in my trunk FOUR MONTHS LATER?
I've been saying for years that I was finally going to take care of my Lila. Well, Saturday was the last straw. Why? Because...THERE. WERE. SPIDERS.
The FI-ance was getting over the flu and craving a Quater Pounder With Cheese, so I made him go to McDonald's with me (I swear he really was feeling better. And, as an additional side note, he wore his robe, a pair of underwear, flip flops and a black snap brim cap. See? Even when he's sick he's cool.)
We're in my car sitting at a light and he goes: "Hey, look. There's a spider on the outside of the window." Immediate panic. I rolled up the window and ran the wipers to try and kill it, then began to itch all over. But that's not the worst of it. I looked at the FI-ance to ask if he saw the damn spider die. As soon as I finish the question my gaze is drawn upward to his sun visor, which is mere millimeters from his cap. And playing host to another very, very large spider.
Then I started screaming.
I turned the light on so he could kill it, but of course "spiders kill worse things, we like spiders. I can't just kill it." Me=Still Screaming. But now I'm driving too because the light's changed. He grabs some ephemera from somewhere in the car and attempts to put the beast out the window. What kills me is that we don't know if he got it OUTSIDE or not. It was too dark and FI-ance was too goofy from flu to notice for sure.
So, America's spiders are officially on notice. As of this weekend Lila Ford will be spotless and unable to accept any new occupants. You dig?
Lila's horn has a short in it. I can only hit the side of the horn with the little ABS etching in it, or the horn sounds...and won't stop. The light on the gear shift has gone out and I keep forgetting to get it replaced, so when it's dark I have to turn the overhead on to make sure I'm in the right gear.
I love my Lila Ford. She is the first car I've ever owned. I bought her brand new when I'd been out of college for a little over a year. Actually, it was August 14, 1998. Yeah, I remember it that well. After four years of using St. Louis' slow-ass busses and (pretty cool but often crowded) Metro-Link, I remember well the day I no longer had to ride with the funky, loud and crazy. Or the occasional stray chicken bone.
Even though I love Lila I have not been a very good mommy as of late. Like, in the last three years. Because that's how long it's been since I've washed my car.
Oh my God! Do not judge me internet! I swear I've meant to. I can't take her to one of those gas station car washes because I've always heard that they take the paint off. With apartment living, and no hose, can you imagine how difficult and time consuming it was to carry buckets back and forth to clean her? Well, I did it. For years, I did it. And prior to that I paid to have it done, every month. I was good for a while I really was. Then I found these giant handi-wipe like things that cleaned the car without water. They took a lot of elbow grease but I used them for over a year. Then? Then...
I got lazy and Lila got dirty. There's a fine coat of dust on her dash. The floor is littered with little dead leaves, scraps of paper and a bit of dried brownie (God that brownie was good). When the FI-ance and I moved I put a plant in the trunk. It promptly tipped over and rolled around as I drove even though I thought it was well braced. How much do you want to bet that the dirt is still in my trunk FOUR MONTHS LATER?
I've been saying for years that I was finally going to take care of my Lila. Well, Saturday was the last straw. Why? Because...THERE. WERE. SPIDERS.
The FI-ance was getting over the flu and craving a Quater Pounder With Cheese, so I made him go to McDonald's with me (I swear he really was feeling better. And, as an additional side note, he wore his robe, a pair of underwear, flip flops and a black snap brim cap. See? Even when he's sick he's cool.)
We're in my car sitting at a light and he goes: "Hey, look. There's a spider on the outside of the window." Immediate panic. I rolled up the window and ran the wipers to try and kill it, then began to itch all over. But that's not the worst of it. I looked at the FI-ance to ask if he saw the damn spider die. As soon as I finish the question my gaze is drawn upward to his sun visor, which is mere millimeters from his cap. And playing host to another very, very large spider.
Then I started screaming.
I turned the light on so he could kill it, but of course "spiders kill worse things, we like spiders. I can't just kill it." Me=Still Screaming. But now I'm driving too because the light's changed. He grabs some ephemera from somewhere in the car and attempts to put the beast out the window. What kills me is that we don't know if he got it OUTSIDE or not. It was too dark and FI-ance was too goofy from flu to notice for sure.
So, America's spiders are officially on notice. As of this weekend Lila Ford will be spotless and unable to accept any new occupants. You dig?
Wednesday, April 18, 2007
Ahh, Spring...
We were hit with an unexpected cold snap at the beginning of April. Blooming things had to retreat to the earth from wince they came, and those that couldn't will have to wait until next year to be seen again.
Saturday was chilly and rainy, but a fun and family-filled day. The FI-ance and my parents are this close to meeting now, since we saw them both on Saturday (the first time this happened on a non-holiday). His 'rents are the very eager type; if they're up early they assume we are too and insist on calling. Of course, this time we were glad they called because they were about half way to our still-sleep-filled house. On top of that we had to take the FI-ance's car for an oil change before they got to us and it was only 9:30am. Suddenly I had to put on clothes, hide stray underwear and clean the bathroom. And you know there's more, right? I'd told Mrs. FI-ance that I'd scan all the photos she gave me of FI-ance as a wobbly-headed boy by Saturday so that if we saw them she could take her albums back. You know I didn't do it. Stop playing, internet.
After a fairly short visit, where the 'rents dropped off the FI-ance's ladders and loaned us a big ol' saw for hacking away at the tree in the backyard, we picked up the car and then headed out to lunch. I wanted a simple soup and sandwich BAD, but the FI-ance wanted Chinese so I gave in and settled on our local Chinese Buffet. Don't get me wrong, I love a good buffet. My problem is that I love them too much. I always eat one plate too many and I always know I'm doing it.
What did me in this time? Oh, Lord. The. Peach. Cobbler. I will admit here that I am a bit oddball-like because I hate peaches and hate cooked peaches even more. But? But. That peach juice combined with a crispy, brown, flaky crust gets me every time. I had two heaping helpings. Almost ate myself sick.
Which brings me to all my health issues. I went to an internist Monday, she did a little physical exam and told me nothing felt or looked unusual. I go back tomorrow morning for blood work so they can check for thyroid conditions, diabetes, cholesterol issues...
Can I make a confession? I would love to be able to blame my insane weight gain on a semi-serious illness. LOVE IT. How sick is that? Obviously I had to step on a scale when I went to the doctor, and I've gained about 7 pounds since January. I thought about ordering some pants for summer today (size 22 women's...yay), but have since become a bit depressed. I look at all the crap I could be buying if I weren't so fat - cheap, cute stuff. Then I look at the fat people clothes - mostly matronly and expensive. Or, if they're cute, REALLY OUTRAGEOUSLY expensive. I cannot win.
It's also possible I've got irritable bowl syndrome. I might have to go to a gastrointerologist to see for sure. If my blood work comes back clear I'll have no more excuses; it'll be pretty clear that the fatigue is probably due to my 40lbs-in-one-year weight gain.
My doc suggested Weight Watchers and actually going to the meetings. I know it works for a lot of people, but it just seems so cheesy (mmmmm...cheeeeeese...). Sitting in a depressing little room filled with fat people talking about how hard it is to stop being fat. Not being able to say words like "cookie", "barbecue", "ham" or "bread" because it might be some fat fuck's trigger word or whatever.
Dammit. Can you tell how my day's going?
Saturday was chilly and rainy, but a fun and family-filled day. The FI-ance and my parents are this close to meeting now, since we saw them both on Saturday (the first time this happened on a non-holiday). His 'rents are the very eager type; if they're up early they assume we are too and insist on calling. Of course, this time we were glad they called because they were about half way to our still-sleep-filled house. On top of that we had to take the FI-ance's car for an oil change before they got to us and it was only 9:30am. Suddenly I had to put on clothes, hide stray underwear and clean the bathroom. And you know there's more, right? I'd told Mrs. FI-ance that I'd scan all the photos she gave me of FI-ance as a wobbly-headed boy by Saturday so that if we saw them she could take her albums back. You know I didn't do it. Stop playing, internet.
After a fairly short visit, where the 'rents dropped off the FI-ance's ladders and loaned us a big ol' saw for hacking away at the tree in the backyard, we picked up the car and then headed out to lunch. I wanted a simple soup and sandwich BAD, but the FI-ance wanted Chinese so I gave in and settled on our local Chinese Buffet. Don't get me wrong, I love a good buffet. My problem is that I love them too much. I always eat one plate too many and I always know I'm doing it.
What did me in this time? Oh, Lord. The. Peach. Cobbler. I will admit here that I am a bit oddball-like because I hate peaches and hate cooked peaches even more. But? But. That peach juice combined with a crispy, brown, flaky crust gets me every time. I had two heaping helpings. Almost ate myself sick.
Which brings me to all my health issues. I went to an internist Monday, she did a little physical exam and told me nothing felt or looked unusual. I go back tomorrow morning for blood work so they can check for thyroid conditions, diabetes, cholesterol issues...
Can I make a confession? I would love to be able to blame my insane weight gain on a semi-serious illness. LOVE IT. How sick is that? Obviously I had to step on a scale when I went to the doctor, and I've gained about 7 pounds since January. I thought about ordering some pants for summer today (size 22 women's...yay), but have since become a bit depressed. I look at all the crap I could be buying if I weren't so fat - cheap, cute stuff. Then I look at the fat people clothes - mostly matronly and expensive. Or, if they're cute, REALLY OUTRAGEOUSLY expensive. I cannot win.
It's also possible I've got irritable bowl syndrome. I might have to go to a gastrointerologist to see for sure. If my blood work comes back clear I'll have no more excuses; it'll be pretty clear that the fatigue is probably due to my 40lbs-in-one-year weight gain.
My doc suggested Weight Watchers and actually going to the meetings. I know it works for a lot of people, but it just seems so cheesy (mmmmm...cheeeeeese...). Sitting in a depressing little room filled with fat people talking about how hard it is to stop being fat. Not being able to say words like "cookie", "barbecue", "ham" or "bread" because it might be some fat fuck's trigger word or whatever.
Dammit. Can you tell how my day's going?
Friday, March 30, 2007
March=Medicine
You know what internet? I've had a weird month. There's been a vague sense of intestinal illness hovering about me all March long. It's irritating. I can't seem to regulate the bloating, farting, going-to-the-bathroom, not-going-to-the-bathroom stuff. I've taken so much stuff to settle my stomach in the last 30 days that I, personally, could keep the Tums and Rolaids people afloat.
I even had to take two days off just for all the farting. It was honestly gas that you would not believe. What do you mean, why am I telling you this? It's Friday morning, stop pretending you've got something better to do. Ok?
Anyway, it was insane. The entire two days I was off I thought something bigger and badder had to be coming, but it never did. I finally took Immodium just to stop the bloat-fart cycle. Unfortunately it also stopped another cycle, which lead to one interesting night a couple of weeks ago.
About four months ago I got recommendations from my gyno for a GP. I sent an email to one (who takes my insurance) to get an appointment, but never heard anything. I was trying to avoid talking to anybody if I didn't have to, but now I suppose I've got no choice.
Fuck.
I even had to take two days off just for all the farting. It was honestly gas that you would not believe. What do you mean, why am I telling you this? It's Friday morning, stop pretending you've got something better to do. Ok?
Anyway, it was insane. The entire two days I was off I thought something bigger and badder had to be coming, but it never did. I finally took Immodium just to stop the bloat-fart cycle. Unfortunately it also stopped another cycle, which lead to one interesting night a couple of weeks ago.
About four months ago I got recommendations from my gyno for a GP. I sent an email to one (who takes my insurance) to get an appointment, but never heard anything. I was trying to avoid talking to anybody if I didn't have to, but now I suppose I've got no choice.
Fuck.
Sunday, March 25, 2007
Has It Really Come To This?
I was minding my own business Thursday night. Doing a little pre-bed grooming: washing the face, brushing the teeth and such. I noticed the eyebrows needed some maintaining. So I started plucking. What, you ask is so special about that? Well, nothing. Except? Except that I HAD TO PLUCK A GRAY EYEBROW HAIR.
Damn. Really? At 32? This is what my future holds now? Gray facial hairs? Seriously?
Don't get me wrong, I realize this is nobody's fault. But I don't think I can do this. It's bad enough I get the occasional whisker that needs removing. I've been dealing with that crap since I was about 24. But if I have to yank a gray whisker from any of my whisker-spots prior to my 40th birthday, I truly think it may kill me.
So, face? You're on notice asswipe. Tone that shit down.
Damn. Really? At 32? This is what my future holds now? Gray facial hairs? Seriously?
Don't get me wrong, I realize this is nobody's fault. But I don't think I can do this. It's bad enough I get the occasional whisker that needs removing. I've been dealing with that crap since I was about 24. But if I have to yank a gray whisker from any of my whisker-spots prior to my 40th birthday, I truly think it may kill me.
So, face? You're on notice asswipe. Tone that shit down.
Tuesday, March 20, 2007
7:20AM Sucks
Well, it finally happened. After getting to work a half hour late for a few days I finally got spanked. I had to have a mid-point catch-up thingy with my supervisor last Friday, and was quite gently told to stop my being late bullshit. I really had been meaning to work on that, but you know what? I hate waking up early and hadn't gotten in trouble so I said fuck it. I knew it was crap, though, so I'm attempting to rectify my shit.
I got up before 8am yesterday and damned if it didn't screw me over. I got a headache, my eyeball started itching and then I felt sick to my stomach. And yes, I honestly do believe getting up early did all that to me.
It is now the same time that I started to fall apart yesterday. Wish me luck.
I got up before 8am yesterday and damned if it didn't screw me over. I got a headache, my eyeball started itching and then I felt sick to my stomach. And yes, I honestly do believe getting up early did all that to me.
It is now the same time that I started to fall apart yesterday. Wish me luck.
Friday, March 16, 2007
My Right Boob Is Out Of Control
No matter what bra I put on, it's like Right Boobica has a mind of her own. Every time I look down I find she's trying to unleash herself on the world. I freely admit to staying far away from underwired, super-supportive, side-binding, back-flattening, old-droopy-lady bras. But dammit, Boobica! Control yourself already!!
-------------------------------------------------
I had a dream the night before last. I've had some well-documented freak show dreams, but this one was odd mainly for it's brevity. It was a dark, rainy night. The FI-ance and I were living in the house I grew up in, which had two front doors; one where the door really was on the right side, and one on the left side. The house was dark and we heard a noise. We opened the left door to a life-sized milk chocolate rendering of Arnold Swartzenegger. That was it. I think I might donate my brain to science after I die.
-------------------------------------------------
Almost two weeks ago now I was using the bathroom and talking to my mom on the phone (Quiet! She's my mom, ok?). The house came with one of those storage-y over-the-toilet cabinet things, and Tux likes to lounge around up there. You know, maybe look out the window a bit. Well, silly-cat-face was doing just that, and as he tried to back out of the window onto the top shelf he fell. Onto me. As I talked on the phone while sitting on the toilet. My life, it can get no better.
------------------------------------------------
So, I went to the eye doctor Wednesday. Apparently my glasses are useless now, even though I hadn't noticed. I've got more myopias & astigmatisms & such, and therefore spent $400 on new glasses. While I'm glad I had the cash to spend and didn't need to lay it on my Citibank, I was really wanting to get something fun and basically frivolous with my tax refund. Like a new camera, or a nice little trip someplace. An additional $400 is going to be spent on starting to fix our screwy pipes. That leaves about $125. Damned responsibility.
-------------------------------------------------
Also on Wednesday? Another bathroom adventure. I'm not entirely sure what's wrong with me. I eat a bowl of oatmeal for breakfast almost everyday, suck down lots of veggies and fruit. But what happened for the second time in 7 days? Yes, I stopped up the toilet. Honestly? That's just not ladylike. What's worse is that after a half hour of plunging (my hand has been sore for two days...shut up), I still couldn't get things to move along, out of my life and out of my house. The FI-ance had fallen asleep at his desk, but I woke him up and if my face weren't so naturally brown it would have turned bright red because I was em-bar-ras-sed. I asked him if he wanted to try. He thankfully said no (I really didn't want him going in there and seeing...well, what he would have had to see), so I headed to WalMart. Thank God they had a toilet snake. Incidentally? As I left and drove home I felt like everyone I passed knew I PERSONALLY had clogged up a toilet.
-------------------------------------------------
I had a dream the night before last. I've had some well-documented freak show dreams, but this one was odd mainly for it's brevity. It was a dark, rainy night. The FI-ance and I were living in the house I grew up in, which had two front doors; one where the door really was on the right side, and one on the left side. The house was dark and we heard a noise. We opened the left door to a life-sized milk chocolate rendering of Arnold Swartzenegger. That was it. I think I might donate my brain to science after I die.
-------------------------------------------------
Almost two weeks ago now I was using the bathroom and talking to my mom on the phone (Quiet! She's my mom, ok?). The house came with one of those storage-y over-the-toilet cabinet things, and Tux likes to lounge around up there. You know, maybe look out the window a bit. Well, silly-cat-face was doing just that, and as he tried to back out of the window onto the top shelf he fell. Onto me. As I talked on the phone while sitting on the toilet. My life, it can get no better.
------------------------------------------------
So, I went to the eye doctor Wednesday. Apparently my glasses are useless now, even though I hadn't noticed. I've got more myopias & astigmatisms & such, and therefore spent $400 on new glasses. While I'm glad I had the cash to spend and didn't need to lay it on my Citibank, I was really wanting to get something fun and basically frivolous with my tax refund. Like a new camera, or a nice little trip someplace. An additional $400 is going to be spent on starting to fix our screwy pipes. That leaves about $125. Damned responsibility.
-------------------------------------------------
Also on Wednesday? Another bathroom adventure. I'm not entirely sure what's wrong with me. I eat a bowl of oatmeal for breakfast almost everyday, suck down lots of veggies and fruit. But what happened for the second time in 7 days? Yes, I stopped up the toilet. Honestly? That's just not ladylike. What's worse is that after a half hour of plunging (my hand has been sore for two days...shut up), I still couldn't get things to move along, out of my life and out of my house. The FI-ance had fallen asleep at his desk, but I woke him up and if my face weren't so naturally brown it would have turned bright red because I was em-bar-ras-sed. I asked him if he wanted to try. He thankfully said no (I really didn't want him going in there and seeing...well, what he would have had to see), so I headed to WalMart. Thank God they had a toilet snake. Incidentally? As I left and drove home I felt like everyone I passed knew I PERSONALLY had clogged up a toilet.
Tuesday, March 06, 2007
My Financial Nitwittery Strikes Again
My current major source of consternation is my own idiocy. I've managed twice in the past two months to incur 4 insufficient funds fees and, for about a week, a long string of negative balance fees. The most fantastic part? These God dammed fees ate up a healthy portion of my state tax refund. I finally got up the nerve to call and try to get the shit waived yesterday, but as I suspected, it was no use. I suppose I could've been harder nosed or tried crying, but it's my own fucking fault. I really will get it together one day.
On a considerably more positive note, I've begun saving again. I set up automatic deposits to my savings account on the 15th of every month, with the added hope of putting something in at every other pay period too. I have not told the FI-ance, but now that he's read this I hope he'll continue to trust my spankin' new saving acumen and just let me handle this. OK, boy?
The thing about having a house is that issues just keep coming. We had finally gotten all settled when we noticed the basement drain backing up every time we did the laundry. We called a plumber...and then we called him again 3 days later. Turns out our pipes are offset and that's what's with all the blockage. It's apparently a lateral line problem, which means our fair city has to come out and run a camera through the pipes to see where the issue is.
What's that you say? Oh, heavens no! The camera work isn't free, that'll be $400 please, says the city of Kirkwood. On top of that, when we finally go to get the crap fixed for good we'll be on the hook for %40 of the $3,000 to $6,000 cost of repairs, even though it's the city's pipes that are fucked. What the Hell! As long as nothing is going to cave in, the FI-ance and I have agreed to wait and not put ourselves into anymore debt over this pipe thing. And (knockonwoodpraisetheLord) the basement hasn't backed up in two weeks anyway.
Also, we could use more kitchen cabinets. We've gotten rid of a ton of pots, pans, dishes and utensils, but there still isn't enough room for what's left and, you know...food. I've had to resort to using the oven as storage space, and not just the broiler part at the bottom, but the whole damn thing, y'all. We have one good wall for cabinets, and the FI-ance's estimate of parts and labor sets us back $500 big ones. Why couldn't the heifer who rehabbed this place had thought to put those up? I mean how is anybody supposed to fit all their dishes and food and shit into 4 cabinets, one of which has the sink/garbage disposal pipes running through it? Bitch, please.
Now that's it's warming up a bit there are some spring type things we need. A water hose, stain and seal for the deck, a rake, lawn mower, edge trimmer, and definitely some pest control. Every time I venture into the basement now, I see at least one roach. I cannot stand the idea of those things in my house. Even in the basement. Now, we had a conversation about this just last night: the FI-ance claims (though he hasn't seen any of the bugs) that I'm not seeing roaches. "I bet some of them are beetles." Honestly, I realize that an unfinished basement, especially, is gonna have buggles of all kinds. But I know a roach when I see one. And, yes, we have roaches, of the cock variety, in the nethers of our house.
I'm trying to be reasonable about it. I wanted to go to Lowe's or Home Depot and get one of those giant bug jugs with the sprayer on it, douse the outside of the house and a few important corners inside and be done with it. FI-ance wants to call the Orkin man. Here I am trying to be all do-it-yourselfy, and he wants to spend more money on professional spraying service. Cause that's all there is to it, right? You buy some good killin' stuff, spray it and you're done. Right?
On a considerably more positive note, I've begun saving again. I set up automatic deposits to my savings account on the 15th of every month, with the added hope of putting something in at every other pay period too. I have not told the FI-ance, but now that he's read this I hope he'll continue to trust my spankin' new saving acumen and just let me handle this. OK, boy?
The thing about having a house is that issues just keep coming. We had finally gotten all settled when we noticed the basement drain backing up every time we did the laundry. We called a plumber...and then we called him again 3 days later. Turns out our pipes are offset and that's what's with all the blockage. It's apparently a lateral line problem, which means our fair city has to come out and run a camera through the pipes to see where the issue is.
What's that you say? Oh, heavens no! The camera work isn't free, that'll be $400 please, says the city of Kirkwood. On top of that, when we finally go to get the crap fixed for good we'll be on the hook for %40 of the $3,000 to $6,000 cost of repairs, even though it's the city's pipes that are fucked. What the Hell! As long as nothing is going to cave in, the FI-ance and I have agreed to wait and not put ourselves into anymore debt over this pipe thing. And (knockonwoodpraisetheLord) the basement hasn't backed up in two weeks anyway.
Also, we could use more kitchen cabinets. We've gotten rid of a ton of pots, pans, dishes and utensils, but there still isn't enough room for what's left and, you know...food. I've had to resort to using the oven as storage space, and not just the broiler part at the bottom, but the whole damn thing, y'all. We have one good wall for cabinets, and the FI-ance's estimate of parts and labor sets us back $500 big ones. Why couldn't the heifer who rehabbed this place had thought to put those up? I mean how is anybody supposed to fit all their dishes and food and shit into 4 cabinets, one of which has the sink/garbage disposal pipes running through it? Bitch, please.
Now that's it's warming up a bit there are some spring type things we need. A water hose, stain and seal for the deck, a rake, lawn mower, edge trimmer, and definitely some pest control. Every time I venture into the basement now, I see at least one roach. I cannot stand the idea of those things in my house. Even in the basement. Now, we had a conversation about this just last night: the FI-ance claims (though he hasn't seen any of the bugs) that I'm not seeing roaches. "I bet some of them are beetles." Honestly, I realize that an unfinished basement, especially, is gonna have buggles of all kinds. But I know a roach when I see one. And, yes, we have roaches, of the cock variety, in the nethers of our house.
I'm trying to be reasonable about it. I wanted to go to Lowe's or Home Depot and get one of those giant bug jugs with the sprayer on it, douse the outside of the house and a few important corners inside and be done with it. FI-ance wants to call the Orkin man. Here I am trying to be all do-it-yourselfy, and he wants to spend more money on professional spraying service. Cause that's all there is to it, right? You buy some good killin' stuff, spray it and you're done. Right?
Monday, February 05, 2007
My Current List of Problems
-Being bored at work
-Sick of getting up and going to work everyday but still needing the paycheck
-Having a dining room full of bags and boxes and no idea where to put them
-Owning an excessive amount of books, towels and silverware even though I've given several away
-Staying at home way too much
-1 unfinished screenplay that I wanted to enter into 2 contests by the end of February
-No savings and a huge list of things I need and want
-Being tired all the time, and therefore not doing other things that will make my life better (cooking instead of eating fast food, exercising instead of napping, organizing the house, working on creative ideas, going out at night like a normal relatively young person...)
-No comfort with socializing
-Having trouble keeping in contact with my few non-work friends
-Feeling really busy yet knowing I don't actually do anything
-Seemingly being completely non-orgasmic and thereby becoming less and less interested in sex
I took care of two of these issues this weekend. The lack of energy thing has plagued me for months now, so I finally decided to give up my Flintstones Chewables and try a more mature vitamin. I picked that all day energy One-A-Day kind. I didn't feel anything on Saturday when I had my first dose (I had to cut the pill in half, btw. Why do vitamins have to be so fuckin' HUGE?), but I got a major burst of something Sunday night at 11pm. I started cleaning the dining room and got rid of 6 boxes and 5 bags of our combined crap, put together a bookcase and filled it and two other cases with books. I went to bed at 3am. You know I'm almost dead now, right? I mean, I can feel my eyes trying to go to sleep without my permission as I type. I'm trying so hard to keep busy at work today so things go by quickly and I can get home by 5pm to take a nap before heading out to review my first film (Music and Lyrics) in almost two months.
*snore*
-Sick of getting up and going to work everyday but still needing the paycheck
-Having a dining room full of bags and boxes and no idea where to put them
-Owning an excessive amount of books, towels and silverware even though I've given several away
-Staying at home way too much
-1 unfinished screenplay that I wanted to enter into 2 contests by the end of February
-No savings and a huge list of things I need and want
-Being tired all the time, and therefore not doing other things that will make my life better (cooking instead of eating fast food, exercising instead of napping, organizing the house, working on creative ideas, going out at night like a normal relatively young person...)
-No comfort with socializing
-Having trouble keeping in contact with my few non-work friends
-Feeling really busy yet knowing I don't actually do anything
-Seemingly being completely non-orgasmic and thereby becoming less and less interested in sex
I took care of two of these issues this weekend. The lack of energy thing has plagued me for months now, so I finally decided to give up my Flintstones Chewables and try a more mature vitamin. I picked that all day energy One-A-Day kind. I didn't feel anything on Saturday when I had my first dose (I had to cut the pill in half, btw. Why do vitamins have to be so fuckin' HUGE?), but I got a major burst of something Sunday night at 11pm. I started cleaning the dining room and got rid of 6 boxes and 5 bags of our combined crap, put together a bookcase and filled it and two other cases with books. I went to bed at 3am. You know I'm almost dead now, right? I mean, I can feel my eyes trying to go to sleep without my permission as I type. I'm trying so hard to keep busy at work today so things go by quickly and I can get home by 5pm to take a nap before heading out to review my first film (Music and Lyrics) in almost two months.
*snore*
Wednesday, January 31, 2007
Dear Tux,
Dammit Cat! For the love of Sweet Fuzzy Jesus, please, please stop throwing up. Seriously, like, what do you need, really? Less cat food? More cat food? Different cat food? I cannot take the cat vomit any more.
This morning (7:21 am, luckily just 9 minutes before my alarm was set to go off-you know, the perfect time to get me up) when I awoke to your *hec, hec, hec* vomit convulsions ON THE BED I was so not happy. Is this really the way you like to wake up the people who feed, pet and shelter you? REALLY? 'Cause how about a meow or some purring near our faces, yeah...I hear some cats like to do it that way.
So, the bed. I can only thank God that it was on a small spot on the actual sheets-which I had to run downstairs and wash. But did you have to also spew on the bed post, bed frame, the FI-ance's bike spokes by the bed and the floor around it all? Did you? Huh!? Ok, just my opinion here, but I believe THAT was unnecessary.
You know what Tuximillion? Don't answer any previous questions, just promise me this: while we have most of our possessions in bags, boxes, baskets and crates as we try to put this house together, please, PLEASE don't throw up in, on or around them. I do not want to open a box labeled BOOKS and find my Kate Chopin covered in fur turds.
This morning (7:21 am, luckily just 9 minutes before my alarm was set to go off-you know, the perfect time to get me up) when I awoke to your *hec, hec, hec* vomit convulsions ON THE BED I was so not happy. Is this really the way you like to wake up the people who feed, pet and shelter you? REALLY? 'Cause how about a meow or some purring near our faces, yeah...I hear some cats like to do it that way.
So, the bed. I can only thank God that it was on a small spot on the actual sheets-which I had to run downstairs and wash. But did you have to also spew on the bed post, bed frame, the FI-ance's bike spokes by the bed and the floor around it all? Did you? Huh!? Ok, just my opinion here, but I believe THAT was unnecessary.
You know what Tuximillion? Don't answer any previous questions, just promise me this: while we have most of our possessions in bags, boxes, baskets and crates as we try to put this house together, please, PLEASE don't throw up in, on or around them. I do not want to open a box labeled BOOKS and find my Kate Chopin covered in fur turds.
Tuesday, January 30, 2007
Maxiporium
I discovered something interesting about myself while engaged in the moving of my stuff this month. I sorta have a lot of maxi pads. Wait, not sorta a lot, but SO MANY THAT IF MENSTRUATION LASTED FROM CONCEPTION UNTIL DEATH NO WOMAN WOULD EVER USE THEM ALL.
I'm thinking about opening a store. Maybe I'll call it The House That Maxis Built. What about Maxi's Place? Maxiporium is a favorite, but I'm open to ideas. After all, the store would be for the greater good, you know.
I'm thinking about opening a store. Maybe I'll call it The House That Maxis Built. What about Maxi's Place? Maxiporium is a favorite, but I'm open to ideas. After all, the store would be for the greater good, you know.
Monday, January 22, 2007
I. Am A Child
I just had to ask my mom for $500. I feel horrible.
We were prepared for about half of the expense, then we found all this little house crap that needed to be added to what we're having this handyman/carpenter/electrician dude do for us. Because I'm an idiot who's spent her last check on pants (because she's grown out of 6 pairs) and meals out (because she hasn't felt like cooking or saying no her FI-ance) we don't have enough left to pay him and pay my last rent at the old place and the internet man. All this stuff is happening before I get paid again. The FI-ance is paying my rent, the internet guy and an assortment of bills from his old place; leaving not much for our handyman.
I cannot remember the last time I asked my mom for money. It was literally several years ago, probably the last time I moved in 2000. I know for a fact she paid for that. This feels way worse though, because now there's two of us footing the bill for stuff.
But, she's my mom. She said yes and told me to stop by after work today. And considering all the things she's helped me with in the past I know she won't hold it over me or even expect to be repaid. Which will make repaying her (this time, for real) so sweet.
I did sense a certain trepidation in her voice. I think she believes we (ok, me specifically) weren't ready for this living together thing. God, we cannot fall on our faces.
We were prepared for about half of the expense, then we found all this little house crap that needed to be added to what we're having this handyman/carpenter/electrician dude do for us. Because I'm an idiot who's spent her last check on pants (because she's grown out of 6 pairs) and meals out (because she hasn't felt like cooking or saying no her FI-ance) we don't have enough left to pay him and pay my last rent at the old place and the internet man. All this stuff is happening before I get paid again. The FI-ance is paying my rent, the internet guy and an assortment of bills from his old place; leaving not much for our handyman.
I cannot remember the last time I asked my mom for money. It was literally several years ago, probably the last time I moved in 2000. I know for a fact she paid for that. This feels way worse though, because now there's two of us footing the bill for stuff.
But, she's my mom. She said yes and told me to stop by after work today. And considering all the things she's helped me with in the past I know she won't hold it over me or even expect to be repaid. Which will make repaying her (this time, for real) so sweet.
I did sense a certain trepidation in her voice. I think she believes we (ok, me specifically) weren't ready for this living together thing. God, we cannot fall on our faces.
Friday, January 19, 2007
Unbelieveable
I've been mad at the FI-ance for three days now.
It started on Tuesday when he made a big deal of telling me he'd be home early, but then stayed at work late anyway. Then he was all excited about getting stainless steel hoses for the washing machine. So we spent the next hour and a half calling for prices (I will be so glad when we finally have our internet connected at the house!) and then roaming around Lowe's looking for that shit.
I was thinking,"ok, most of the night's busted, but at least we can get some stuff from my place and work on the house." Yeah, that would've been nice. But it didn't happen.
He elected not to go to my apartment with me so he could 1)install the washer and dryer 2)put up the shower rod and 3)put our mailbox up. Not that those things didn't need to be done, but dammit I really wanted his help. And now the balance of the evening was going to be spent apart.
My FI-ance was thinking this was going to be a speedy little trip, and so did I at first. Then I got there and got even more pissed that he wasn't helping me and decided to grab as much as I could, which ended up taking about two hours. He rang my cell just as I was trying to come in the door with my arms full.
Here, internet, is what got me seriously angry. HE DIDN'T OFFER TO HELP CARRY MY CRAP INSIDE. Oh, not that bad, you say? Well, I asked him to help me. AND HE DECLINED. That's right, the FI-ance decided not to help me so he could get back to his installation of things that could have been finished, OVER THE PREVIOUS WEEKEND. (Side note: he did say he felt a cold or something coming on during that weekend and he was trying to rest up for Sunday's big move, it's not that I don't believe it...but, still.)
Oh, Hell! I was so mad. I already had to take 7 trips to and from the car at my apartment and now I have to do the same thing because you won't help me? I wanted to throw a box at his head.
He then had the nerve to ask if I'd go to WalMart with him while he picked up a dryer hose or some such mechanical crap, SO WE COULD SPEND SOME TIME TOGETHER. No, I'm not even playing. Those were his exact words. At first I said no because it was after midnight and I was tired and pissed and in my pj's. Then he needed help putting up the mailbox, so I had to put on clothes and then figured I might as well go to WalMart and buy shit I didn't need to make me feel less like stuffing my fiance' in the dryer and running it on high.
What's worse is that he did it again last night, make me mad that is. Because he got home by 7pm last night, but it was so he could watch Smallville. You read right. At home early; not to see me, but to watch a fucking tv show. I was angry all night and just like Tuesday told him so.
Now that everything's hooked up, maybe I'll put him in the washer and then dry him. I do so love to have options.
It started on Tuesday when he made a big deal of telling me he'd be home early, but then stayed at work late anyway. Then he was all excited about getting stainless steel hoses for the washing machine. So we spent the next hour and a half calling for prices (I will be so glad when we finally have our internet connected at the house!) and then roaming around Lowe's looking for that shit.
I was thinking,"ok, most of the night's busted, but at least we can get some stuff from my place and work on the house." Yeah, that would've been nice. But it didn't happen.
He elected not to go to my apartment with me so he could 1)install the washer and dryer 2)put up the shower rod and 3)put our mailbox up. Not that those things didn't need to be done, but dammit I really wanted his help. And now the balance of the evening was going to be spent apart.
My FI-ance was thinking this was going to be a speedy little trip, and so did I at first. Then I got there and got even more pissed that he wasn't helping me and decided to grab as much as I could, which ended up taking about two hours. He rang my cell just as I was trying to come in the door with my arms full.
Here, internet, is what got me seriously angry. HE DIDN'T OFFER TO HELP CARRY MY CRAP INSIDE. Oh, not that bad, you say? Well, I asked him to help me. AND HE DECLINED. That's right, the FI-ance decided not to help me so he could get back to his installation of things that could have been finished, OVER THE PREVIOUS WEEKEND. (Side note: he did say he felt a cold or something coming on during that weekend and he was trying to rest up for Sunday's big move, it's not that I don't believe it...but, still.)
Oh, Hell! I was so mad. I already had to take 7 trips to and from the car at my apartment and now I have to do the same thing because you won't help me? I wanted to throw a box at his head.
He then had the nerve to ask if I'd go to WalMart with him while he picked up a dryer hose or some such mechanical crap, SO WE COULD SPEND SOME TIME TOGETHER. No, I'm not even playing. Those were his exact words. At first I said no because it was after midnight and I was tired and pissed and in my pj's. Then he needed help putting up the mailbox, so I had to put on clothes and then figured I might as well go to WalMart and buy shit I didn't need to make me feel less like stuffing my fiance' in the dryer and running it on high.
What's worse is that he did it again last night, make me mad that is. Because he got home by 7pm last night, but it was so he could watch Smallville. You read right. At home early; not to see me, but to watch a fucking tv show. I was angry all night and just like Tuesday told him so.
Now that everything's hooked up, maybe I'll put him in the washer and then dry him. I do so love to have options.
Thursday, January 18, 2007
He's Not A Trucker
We delayed our actual big, truck-renting moving day until Sunday because of the Ice Storm of the Century that never materialized. I cannot express, after over a FULL YEAR of going back and forth between two apartments, how badly I wanted to get this consolidation thing DONE.
The FI-ance suggested, originally, a 24 foot U-Haul. So, that's what I got. Sunday morning, running behind schedule already, we go to pick it up and his face blanches.
"I...I think this may be too much truck for me. I mean, I've never driven that much truck before. That...that's BIG."
I stared at him from inside the truck, where I was checking the starting miles and fuel level. Internet, I do believe you know me well enough to guess my feelings on this.
"What? Listen, I'm sorry, but I need a smaller truck. Would you rather have me drive something I'm almost sure I can't handle? That's a lotta truck to be responsible for. And I'm not even sure that would fit into your parking lot and around those turns; all that's kinda small."
I know it's unreasonable, internet, but I was livid. So mad I could barely speak. So angered that I almost started crying. I just wanted to get this shit over with and he was breaking the flow.
I did get a smaller truck. A 17 footer to be exact, and I thank the SWEETBABYJESUS for that. As it was the FI-ance: ran into a stop sign, knocked over a street sign, drove onto at least 2 sidewalks and scraped off half of a wheel well while running over curbs.
I'm so glad he convinced me to get that insurance at the rental place.
The FI-ance suggested, originally, a 24 foot U-Haul. So, that's what I got. Sunday morning, running behind schedule already, we go to pick it up and his face blanches.
"I...I think this may be too much truck for me. I mean, I've never driven that much truck before. That...that's BIG."
I stared at him from inside the truck, where I was checking the starting miles and fuel level. Internet, I do believe you know me well enough to guess my feelings on this.
"What? Listen, I'm sorry, but I need a smaller truck. Would you rather have me drive something I'm almost sure I can't handle? That's a lotta truck to be responsible for. And I'm not even sure that would fit into your parking lot and around those turns; all that's kinda small."
I know it's unreasonable, internet, but I was livid. So mad I could barely speak. So angered that I almost started crying. I just wanted to get this shit over with and he was breaking the flow.
I did get a smaller truck. A 17 footer to be exact, and I thank the SWEETBABYJESUS for that. As it was the FI-ance: ran into a stop sign, knocked over a street sign, drove onto at least 2 sidewalks and scraped off half of a wheel well while running over curbs.
I'm so glad he convinced me to get that insurance at the rental place.
Tuesday, January 16, 2007
Everything Smells Funny
And by "everything", I mean me. The FI-ance and me moved into the new house this weekend, and what a looong weekend it was. But I'm not saying that in a good way.
I took my first shower last night after almost 4 days of being too tired to bother. Not to mention needing to locate towels and soap and lotion. Or the fact that when you know you're going to get smelly again the next day, why make the extreme effort of showering?
I'm clean now but I swear I'm still faintly funky. I can't take a bath yet because 1) I don't trust the bathtub (I cleaned it out but haven't bleached it and therefore it isn't butt worthy yet) and 2) the damn tub doesn't have a stopper.
You know how they bomb homes for pest control? That's what I feel like I need for personal funk. Anybody know where they sell a B.O. Bomb?
I took my first shower last night after almost 4 days of being too tired to bother. Not to mention needing to locate towels and soap and lotion. Or the fact that when you know you're going to get smelly again the next day, why make the extreme effort of showering?
I'm clean now but I swear I'm still faintly funky. I can't take a bath yet because 1) I don't trust the bathtub (I cleaned it out but haven't bleached it and therefore it isn't butt worthy yet) and 2) the damn tub doesn't have a stopper.
You know how they bomb homes for pest control? That's what I feel like I need for personal funk. Anybody know where they sell a B.O. Bomb?
Monday, January 08, 2007
My Fiance Doesn't Like Bending: News At Eleven
I'm going to try real hard to post about this without snark. It's gonna be hard, ok? But I'm doing it because I love you boy. Now, on to the story.
So you know how we bought this house, right? Well there aren't many cabinets in the kitchen and we'll need to get something to put ALL THE FOOD THAT BOY EATS in. My ideas for a solution were of the obvious baker's rack/inhanced microwave cart type. Then the boy reveals his long held secret: HE DOES NOT LIKE TO BEND.
I was confused. See, I have a microwave cart at my place where I keep most of my canned goods/cereal/assorted dry foods. Apparently, for this whole year, the boy has been irritated by the fact that he has to bend down and look through the cart to get to his beloved bean-n-bacon soup. Still, I was confused. Because, you know, bending is just a part of life. Right? Everybody bends all the time, don't we? You pick up stuff, don't you? Put air in your tires. Or duck down when the head clearance is low. Right? RIGHT???
We have now had at least two arguments about not putting things we use often so close to the floor (!), and in something where everything can't be seen at once (!!). One of these heated conversations took place in the crowded customer service line at WalMart. Yes, really. We are now those people. The kind that make you all uncomfortable when you're trying to return the air matress you poked a hole into with your nipple piercing but are pretending it came with that hole, dammit.
After initially laughing my head off and admittedly making fun of the boy, I've tried to take the high road and figure out a solution that will...accomodate him. But as he's very sensitive about this primary priority issue, he gets frustrated and irritable whenever we discuss it. I suggested, during our WalMart confrontation, that he be in charge of organizing whatever storage thingie we put in the kitchen. Maybe it was just hunger, but can you believe that pissed him off? I bet you can believe him getting pissed made me pretty damn angry. I was honestly being all sincere and stuff, internet.
We looked at some options this weekend, and still can't come to a final decision. He essentially wants a baker's rack made of wood that we won't have to assemble. I know, what the hell, right?
Totally. I cannot believe how much effort we're having to put into this. But, always remember boy: rawr, RAWR, raaaaawwr.
So you know how we bought this house, right? Well there aren't many cabinets in the kitchen and we'll need to get something to put ALL THE FOOD THAT BOY EATS in. My ideas for a solution were of the obvious baker's rack/inhanced microwave cart type. Then the boy reveals his long held secret: HE DOES NOT LIKE TO BEND.
I was confused. See, I have a microwave cart at my place where I keep most of my canned goods/cereal/assorted dry foods. Apparently, for this whole year, the boy has been irritated by the fact that he has to bend down and look through the cart to get to his beloved bean-n-bacon soup. Still, I was confused. Because, you know, bending is just a part of life. Right? Everybody bends all the time, don't we? You pick up stuff, don't you? Put air in your tires. Or duck down when the head clearance is low. Right? RIGHT???
We have now had at least two arguments about not putting things we use often so close to the floor (!), and in something where everything can't be seen at once (!!). One of these heated conversations took place in the crowded customer service line at WalMart. Yes, really. We are now those people. The kind that make you all uncomfortable when you're trying to return the air matress you poked a hole into with your nipple piercing but are pretending it came with that hole, dammit.
After initially laughing my head off and admittedly making fun of the boy, I've tried to take the high road and figure out a solution that will...accomodate him. But as he's very sensitive about this primary priority issue, he gets frustrated and irritable whenever we discuss it. I suggested, during our WalMart confrontation, that he be in charge of organizing whatever storage thingie we put in the kitchen. Maybe it was just hunger, but can you believe that pissed him off? I bet you can believe him getting pissed made me pretty damn angry. I was honestly being all sincere and stuff, internet.
We looked at some options this weekend, and still can't come to a final decision. He essentially wants a baker's rack made of wood that we won't have to assemble. I know, what the hell, right?
Totally. I cannot believe how much effort we're having to put into this. But, always remember boy: rawr, RAWR, raaaaawwr.
Thursday, December 28, 2006
I Got The Call
Just about 40 minutes ago I heard from our realtor. We finally got it. We closed on our house. Our House. And? And...maybe I was so happy I cried a little. At my desk. At work. I'm overjoyed and in shock, so forgive me for being a bit subdued.
I cannot believe this past year. The boy, the cat, the job, the house...it's all amazing. I feel like a real-live adult. An incredibly blessed and lucky real-live adult.
Happy New Year Internet, and may all your years be as wonderful as this one has been to me.
XO
citygirl
I cannot believe this past year. The boy, the cat, the job, the house...it's all amazing. I feel like a real-live adult. An incredibly blessed and lucky real-live adult.
Happy New Year Internet, and may all your years be as wonderful as this one has been to me.
XO
citygirl
Friday, December 22, 2006
Word to the Wise...
Don't ever close on a house while you're on your period. If you do, know that every little annoyance will irritate your already delicate emotional state to the hilt; making you either want to curl up into the fetal position and cry, or stab random people in their eyeballs.
Oh yeah, we're closing on our house today. Wish me and the fiance' (pronounced FI-ance, if you're from my neck of the woods) luck.
HAPPY HOLIDAYS EVERYBODY!!!
Oh yeah, we're closing on our house today. Wish me and the fiance' (pronounced FI-ance, if you're from my neck of the woods) luck.
HAPPY HOLIDAYS EVERYBODY!!!
Wednesday, December 13, 2006
The List, She Grows
1)Finish my review of Eragon and sent to my editor
2)Exercise asap when I get home
3)Go to Night at the Museum Wed
4)Write notes for review
5)Set up home owners insurance & switch car ins. to same company
6)Get mortgage papers and fill out with loan officer and the boy
7)Get some food in the house
8)Start packing small stuff I don't need
9)Get more boxes
10)Call mom & tell her we found a house, bid on it and got it
11)Finish filing all those pages I rip outta magazines & print off the internet
12)Finally read the last two Sandman volumes
13)Post some stuff to flickr
14)Set up a budget dammit
15)Work on screenplay again
16)See about working at Sundance, SXSW and CineVegas
17)Formulate more interesting blog posts
18)Join Film Independent by 12/15
19)Stop coughing and having a sore throat
20)Donate $ somewhere
21)See what's left to buy of Christmas gifts
22)Wrap stuff
23)Make tea cakes for Mrs Nichols
24)Make cookies for me, because I deserve them
25)Stop getting in the bed after midnight already
26)Fill out paperwork to take house closing day off work
27)Consider decorative options for the walls at new house
28)See if I can get $ back from FedEx
29)Get refund from Newport News
30)List more stuff on Half.com
Wow, I'm already thinking of ways to pretend I don't need to do 90% of this stuff.
2)Exercise asap when I get home
3)Go to Night at the Museum Wed
4)Write notes for review
5)Set up home owners insurance & switch car ins. to same company
6)Get mortgage papers and fill out with loan officer and the boy
7)Get some food in the house
8)Start packing small stuff I don't need
9)Get more boxes
10)Call mom & tell her we found a house, bid on it and got it
11)Finish filing all those pages I rip outta magazines & print off the internet
12)Finally read the last two Sandman volumes
13)Post some stuff to flickr
14)Set up a budget dammit
15)Work on screenplay again
16)See about working at Sundance, SXSW and CineVegas
17)Formulate more interesting blog posts
18)Join Film Independent by 12/15
19)Stop coughing and having a sore throat
20)Donate $ somewhere
21)See what's left to buy of Christmas gifts
22)Wrap stuff
23)Make tea cakes for Mrs Nichols
24)Make cookies for me, because I deserve them
25)Stop getting in the bed after midnight already
26)Fill out paperwork to take house closing day off work
27)Consider decorative options for the walls at new house
28)See if I can get $ back from FedEx
29)Get refund from Newport News
30)List more stuff on Half.com
Wow, I'm already thinking of ways to pretend I don't need to do 90% of this stuff.
Monday, December 11, 2006
Hmmmm, And Now...?
Ok, so I had this whole post planned out yesterday about how the boy and I put a bid on a house after he made one decision and then got all confused and frustrated again five minutes after I called our realtor and told her we were doing one thing and had to call her back and tell her another, right? Well that's not even news now, cause now? Now, internet? THE BOY AND I HAVE ACTUALLY REALLY BOUGHT A HOUSE.
I got so very little done today with all the talking to the realtor and faxing stuff to sign and signing and getting ahold of the boy to get his fax number and calling the mortgage man and having him call me back and learning FHA would kinda screw us so we needed to go conventional and finding out Ms. Realtor made an appointment for our inspection this weekend and it'll cost $358. That, and I'm gonna have to pony up my last two months rent (aka $900 I don't have) to get outta the lease.
I feel too rushed to be happy or excited right now. I need to cash in some vacation days to pay for my rent. I have to get our utilities switched over. We need to talk to his folks, who are holding onto an inheritance we're using to pay for some of this, about the cash for that damned expensive inspection. And there's like 50 million other things to do.
Did I mention I feel like I need to throw up? Or that I have the smell of fear about my person?
Holy shit, internet. Throw a few good vibes by me and the boy. We is so gonna need 'em.
I got so very little done today with all the talking to the realtor and faxing stuff to sign and signing and getting ahold of the boy to get his fax number and calling the mortgage man and having him call me back and learning FHA would kinda screw us so we needed to go conventional and finding out Ms. Realtor made an appointment for our inspection this weekend and it'll cost $358. That, and I'm gonna have to pony up my last two months rent (aka $900 I don't have) to get outta the lease.
I feel too rushed to be happy or excited right now. I need to cash in some vacation days to pay for my rent. I have to get our utilities switched over. We need to talk to his folks, who are holding onto an inheritance we're using to pay for some of this, about the cash for that damned expensive inspection. And there's like 50 million other things to do.
Did I mention I feel like I need to throw up? Or that I have the smell of fear about my person?
Holy shit, internet. Throw a few good vibes by me and the boy. We is so gonna need 'em.
Wednesday, November 29, 2006
Just A Letter
Dearest Person Who Used the Bathroom Before Me,
Thank you for reiterating several points I (and probably not you) learned as a wee babe:
1) Always look closely at the toilet prior to sitting down
2) Use toilet paper
3) Flush the damn toilet
4) Wash your hands...with soap & water as warm as you can stand
5) Never flush with your foot while wearing flip flops (because nobody wants to hop out of a boardwalk bathroom with one shoe)
As none of these issues seem to be on your mind, I trust you're having a fine and trouble free life before burning to crispy-fried goodness in hell.
Thank you. Goodnight.
Thank you for reiterating several points I (and probably not you) learned as a wee babe:
1) Always look closely at the toilet prior to sitting down
2) Use toilet paper
3) Flush the damn toilet
4) Wash your hands...with soap & water as warm as you can stand
5) Never flush with your foot while wearing flip flops (because nobody wants to hop out of a boardwalk bathroom with one shoe)
As none of these issues seem to be on your mind, I trust you're having a fine and trouble free life before burning to crispy-fried goodness in hell.
Thank you. Goodnight.
Tuesday, November 28, 2006
Crunch Time
Unfortunately this post is not about all the sit-ups I've been doing. The boy and I are trying to buy a house.
He has been surprisingly animated about the whole thing. I'd been led to believe that guys wouldn't really get into the whole "this one looks good" thing. My boy, though, is all over this. So much so that left to his own devices he ran our realtor.com picks up to 45 houses. Honestly, that was just insane. True, he was picking cheap and well updated place. But they were HU-NORMOUS. I'm talking 6 bedrooms, 5 bathrooms, three floor housing extravaganzas. Internet, I had to reign him in.
Now, after two weekends of go-sees we've narrowed it to a nice field of 8 we're making appointments to see the inside of. We did most of our neighborhood house stalking in the dark because of that damned daylight savings time. One positive thing about that is we got to see how well lit these areas were, and if people seemed comfortable outside after dark.
Now that the boy is guided, he's picked sensible places. No mare than 2 bedrooms & bathrooms. I seriously don't know who the hell he thought was going to clean 5 toilets. We all know it wasn't going to be me, right?
We're trying to get our move on by the end of February when my lease is up. I realize that technically it wouldn't have made any sense to start looking earlier than this month, but I feel kinda rushed now. Is that normal? And what about all the fees and stuff? I have a feeling we're not planning for some financial burden with this house buying thing. I'd hate for us to commit ourselves and think we've got it all covered and then realize we're up the creek because we forgot about one little thing that costs a few grand to take care of before we can move in.
Any suggestions? Ideas? Advice?
He has been surprisingly animated about the whole thing. I'd been led to believe that guys wouldn't really get into the whole "this one looks good" thing. My boy, though, is all over this. So much so that left to his own devices he ran our realtor.com picks up to 45 houses. Honestly, that was just insane. True, he was picking cheap and well updated place. But they were HU-NORMOUS. I'm talking 6 bedrooms, 5 bathrooms, three floor housing extravaganzas. Internet, I had to reign him in.
Now, after two weekends of go-sees we've narrowed it to a nice field of 8 we're making appointments to see the inside of. We did most of our neighborhood house stalking in the dark because of that damned daylight savings time. One positive thing about that is we got to see how well lit these areas were, and if people seemed comfortable outside after dark.
Now that the boy is guided, he's picked sensible places. No mare than 2 bedrooms & bathrooms. I seriously don't know who the hell he thought was going to clean 5 toilets. We all know it wasn't going to be me, right?
We're trying to get our move on by the end of February when my lease is up. I realize that technically it wouldn't have made any sense to start looking earlier than this month, but I feel kinda rushed now. Is that normal? And what about all the fees and stuff? I have a feeling we're not planning for some financial burden with this house buying thing. I'd hate for us to commit ourselves and think we've got it all covered and then realize we're up the creek because we forgot about one little thing that costs a few grand to take care of before we can move in.
Any suggestions? Ideas? Advice?
Monday, November 27, 2006
Cat-tastrophy*
It's Sunday. Four o'clock in the morning, actually. All the boy and I wanted to do was wind down and prepare for our last day of the four day weekend. He gets in the bed and I head to the porch to check on our fiercely pawed feline. Oh crap, I can't see him! Oh super crap! I found him. Our Tux is ON THE ROOF (dammit!). I gasped in ultimate horror and must've looked about like this. Seriously, I am surprised I was able to refrain from screaming and fainting.
So now we (aka my half-naked fiance' in a ratty robe and clunky tennis shoes) have to try coaxing the kitty down before he falls to his death. It's dark and cold and we're on the third floor. Fuck.
This must be what parenthood is like. You want your progeny to explore, but you know they might overstep their bounds and get hurt at some point. That, and it scares the shit out of you.
Of course just asking Tux to come down and having him, I don't know...do it, would be too simple. The boy has one chair and the last time he had to stand on it to retrieve Sir Tuxenstiegel (damn cat) he almost died. That chair, it swivels. Not good for standing. So what does he drag out to the porch? An empty cooler. This did not instill me with any more confidence than the chair, but whattaya gonna do?
Tux is meowing mournfully now, he clearly knows he's out of his element. But will he just let the boy grab him? No. He has to start clawing and move away from the edge of the roof so we can't get to him. I'm behind the boy, spotting him and praying that neither of them falls off the building to the concrete-of-death below.
It probably only took 10 minutes to fish him down, but it felt like forever and almost killed me.
Damn that cat.
*God, I'm so clever.
So now we (aka my half-naked fiance' in a ratty robe and clunky tennis shoes) have to try coaxing the kitty down before he falls to his death. It's dark and cold and we're on the third floor. Fuck.
This must be what parenthood is like. You want your progeny to explore, but you know they might overstep their bounds and get hurt at some point. That, and it scares the shit out of you.
Of course just asking Tux to come down and having him, I don't know...do it, would be too simple. The boy has one chair and the last time he had to stand on it to retrieve Sir Tuxenstiegel (damn cat) he almost died. That chair, it swivels. Not good for standing. So what does he drag out to the porch? An empty cooler. This did not instill me with any more confidence than the chair, but whattaya gonna do?
Tux is meowing mournfully now, he clearly knows he's out of his element. But will he just let the boy grab him? No. He has to start clawing and move away from the edge of the roof so we can't get to him. I'm behind the boy, spotting him and praying that neither of them falls off the building to the concrete-of-death below.
It probably only took 10 minutes to fish him down, but it felt like forever and almost killed me.
Damn that cat.
*God, I'm so clever.
Sunday, November 12, 2006
It's Been One Of Those Weeks
Sunday
We go to a super early showing of The Prestige. Two tickets only cost $8 and we had to get to the theater at 11:11am. I'm not even playing. There were only 3 people at the show. We sneak in cheapo breakfast goodies by way of my huge-ass purse. It's like I'm a kid again. Oh yeah, everyone needs to see this movie. It. Is amazing.
At the end of a lazy weekend the boy decides we should play frisbee inside his tiny apartment. With the top from a Rubbermaid container. I catch and return; the top bounces off the wall and hits him in the nose, skinning a significant portion of said appendage. The boy spends most of the week with a huge scab on his cute, nobby nose. As you might imagine I feel horrible for this, but blame him for it anyway. I mean, hey, he started it.
The boy leaves his debit card in the ATM. Dammit!
Monday
I went to work. This would soon change.
Also, the boy has an unquenchable desire to watch the copy of last week's Battlestar Gallactica (geek) he got his grubby little hands on. I protest but give in, and we watch BG at 11pm before heading back to my place. I'm sleepy. The boy will pay for this.
Tuesday
I get antsy for Christmas decorations and make plans to clean and get my holiday on. I have visions of me and the boy decorating my place as cookies bake and Christmas music plays. I decide we'll get this done before the end of the week.
I make cookies for tomorrow's potluck at work and pack up 1/2 of each batch. I'm proud that I manage to go to bed with only 2 cookies in my belly.
Wednesday
We have our potluck. This takes up a good two hours of actual work time. I simply adore sanctioned time wastage!
The boy and I have a talk. He wants to go out, but can't access his cash at this late hour since he left behind his ATM card on Sunday and is waiting on a new one. He asks if I can spot us. I get pissy and tell him so. He literally had ALL DAY to go to the bank and take money out. Instead he did lots of sleeping and video game playing(ok, he did have a job interview, too). Why is this so difficult sometimes?
He actually finds a drive-up teller open after 5pm and we speed over. We spend the night with dinner at House of Wong, drinks and my pool learnin' at Nick's in Dogtown. We're out late and have a lot of fun. This day turned out real nice.
Thursday
Me and the boy walked to the park near my and played frisbee (for real this time) until well after dark. For some reason I got into it and worked my ass off. It's the one good workout I had all week.
Friday
The boy returns from another job interview (yay!) and drops the idea of another early movie. We see Stranger Than Fiction (get thee to a theater post haste, internet) with a purse full of Jack-n-the Box. Loverly afternoon.
I tell the boy I want us to decorate my apartment. I begin to clean and he dutifully LAYS DOWN ON THE COUCH AND GOES TO SLEEP. TOTALLY ON PURPOSE. Can you imagine, internet, that this gets on my nerves? I did not decorate. Instead I played Christmas music, straightened my place and made pizza (cheese, tomato, onion, lots of spices...*drool*).
Saturday
We did our civic duty and recycled a ton of glass, paper, cans, etc. As usual, our reward for this is eating out. This time we went to Joe's Crab Shack and I did indeed spot us to the tune of $36. See why this is so difficult? It didn't even occur to me to care this time. And I didn't even realize the boy was going to return the favor for this one until we sat down. Maybe this is horrible, but only then did I decide to buy that appetizer.
Sunday
I told myself that this weekend at the boy's place would be about working on my screenplay, creating a budget and other really useful things. Instead I'm watching football and writing my blog. Well, fuck. The day ain't over yet.
We go to a super early showing of The Prestige. Two tickets only cost $8 and we had to get to the theater at 11:11am. I'm not even playing. There were only 3 people at the show. We sneak in cheapo breakfast goodies by way of my huge-ass purse. It's like I'm a kid again. Oh yeah, everyone needs to see this movie. It. Is amazing.
At the end of a lazy weekend the boy decides we should play frisbee inside his tiny apartment. With the top from a Rubbermaid container. I catch and return; the top bounces off the wall and hits him in the nose, skinning a significant portion of said appendage. The boy spends most of the week with a huge scab on his cute, nobby nose. As you might imagine I feel horrible for this, but blame him for it anyway. I mean, hey, he started it.
The boy leaves his debit card in the ATM. Dammit!
Monday
I went to work. This would soon change.
Also, the boy has an unquenchable desire to watch the copy of last week's Battlestar Gallactica (geek) he got his grubby little hands on. I protest but give in, and we watch BG at 11pm before heading back to my place. I'm sleepy. The boy will pay for this.
Tuesday
I get antsy for Christmas decorations and make plans to clean and get my holiday on. I have visions of me and the boy decorating my place as cookies bake and Christmas music plays. I decide we'll get this done before the end of the week.
I make cookies for tomorrow's potluck at work and pack up 1/2 of each batch. I'm proud that I manage to go to bed with only 2 cookies in my belly.
Wednesday
We have our potluck. This takes up a good two hours of actual work time. I simply adore sanctioned time wastage!
The boy and I have a talk. He wants to go out, but can't access his cash at this late hour since he left behind his ATM card on Sunday and is waiting on a new one. He asks if I can spot us. I get pissy and tell him so. He literally had ALL DAY to go to the bank and take money out. Instead he did lots of sleeping and video game playing(ok, he did have a job interview, too). Why is this so difficult sometimes?
He actually finds a drive-up teller open after 5pm and we speed over. We spend the night with dinner at House of Wong, drinks and my pool learnin' at Nick's in Dogtown. We're out late and have a lot of fun. This day turned out real nice.
Thursday
Me and the boy walked to the park near my and played frisbee (for real this time) until well after dark. For some reason I got into it and worked my ass off. It's the one good workout I had all week.
Friday
The boy returns from another job interview (yay!) and drops the idea of another early movie. We see Stranger Than Fiction (get thee to a theater post haste, internet) with a purse full of Jack-n-the Box. Loverly afternoon.
I tell the boy I want us to decorate my apartment. I begin to clean and he dutifully LAYS DOWN ON THE COUCH AND GOES TO SLEEP. TOTALLY ON PURPOSE. Can you imagine, internet, that this gets on my nerves? I did not decorate. Instead I played Christmas music, straightened my place and made pizza (cheese, tomato, onion, lots of spices...*drool*).
Saturday
We did our civic duty and recycled a ton of glass, paper, cans, etc. As usual, our reward for this is eating out. This time we went to Joe's Crab Shack and I did indeed spot us to the tune of $36. See why this is so difficult? It didn't even occur to me to care this time. And I didn't even realize the boy was going to return the favor for this one until we sat down. Maybe this is horrible, but only then did I decide to buy that appetizer.
Sunday
I told myself that this weekend at the boy's place would be about working on my screenplay, creating a budget and other really useful things. Instead I'm watching football and writing my blog. Well, fuck. The day ain't over yet.
Monday, October 23, 2006
Splenda Packets I've Stolen
It's all the boy's fault. I was perfectly happy using real sugar for everything: cereal, coffee, tea...But he's all crazy about the Splenda. If something's got that crap in it, he's gonna buy it. The fiance' even got a big ol' box a that stuff for his house, but he never uses it. Who does? Me. Why? Because I'm addicted now and I blame him. I'm still screctly convinced it'll kill us all one day, but I can't think about that now dammit. I'm trying to lose weight! What really sucks is that it's about twice as expensive as sugar.
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In other news, me and the ladies from my new department had lunch with recent quitter J on Friday. She's finally engaged to BigTallD, her boy of over three years. What's even better is she asked me to be her wedding photographer next year! They're hiring someone for the ceremony, but want me to do all the fun pre and post shots. I'm actually looking forward to this. I shot one wedding about seven years ago and swore I'd never do it again, but I can already feel that this'll be a good time.
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Tux the emperor cat has been all about bundling up lately. I can't sit on the couch with a blanket without him getting all up under my cover. He lays at my feet, by my side, on my legs, and most strangely - between my legs right in my crotch. As cute as it all is I cannot emphasize enough how odd it is to feel his furry kitty body BETWEEN MY THIGHS. As if I've given birth to his fuzzy, Tuxy self. I suppose I should just get used to it because we've got at least 4 months of the cold stuff left.
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How's the new job? Good, really good. Thanks for asking. There seems to be just one thing. I'm kinda getting bored already. It's only been a month, so...dammit, I don't know what to do about that. I haven't even had a chance to decorate my cubby yet and already I'm giving thought to how long I can stand this.
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I exercised on Saturday! This may not sound like a big deal to any of you, but trust me, when you go a whole week without doing anything it's easy to say fuck it and give up on the weekends and pretend it'll be easier to start over the following week. Now I've kinda got my groove back.
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The boy has a 2nd interview for a job that would be really cool today. Wish him luck!
----------------------------------------------------------
In other news, me and the ladies from my new department had lunch with recent quitter J on Friday. She's finally engaged to BigTallD, her boy of over three years. What's even better is she asked me to be her wedding photographer next year! They're hiring someone for the ceremony, but want me to do all the fun pre and post shots. I'm actually looking forward to this. I shot one wedding about seven years ago and swore I'd never do it again, but I can already feel that this'll be a good time.
-----------------------------------------------------------
Tux the emperor cat has been all about bundling up lately. I can't sit on the couch with a blanket without him getting all up under my cover. He lays at my feet, by my side, on my legs, and most strangely - between my legs right in my crotch. As cute as it all is I cannot emphasize enough how odd it is to feel his furry kitty body BETWEEN MY THIGHS. As if I've given birth to his fuzzy, Tuxy self. I suppose I should just get used to it because we've got at least 4 months of the cold stuff left.
------------------------------------------------------------
How's the new job? Good, really good. Thanks for asking. There seems to be just one thing. I'm kinda getting bored already. It's only been a month, so...dammit, I don't know what to do about that. I haven't even had a chance to decorate my cubby yet and already I'm giving thought to how long I can stand this.
------------------------------------------------------------
I exercised on Saturday! This may not sound like a big deal to any of you, but trust me, when you go a whole week without doing anything it's easy to say fuck it and give up on the weekends and pretend it'll be easier to start over the following week. Now I've kinda got my groove back.
-------------------------------------------------------------
The boy has a 2nd interview for a job that would be really cool today. Wish him luck!
Thursday, October 19, 2006
Wishing Won't Make It So
Wow, did I ever suffer from wishful thinking here or what? If you read it, I bet you can guess what I screwed up. That's right. I have never in my adult life weighed as little as 132 pounds. You know which number needs to change...? You got it, amigos. It should be 232. Fuck. It hurts all over again.
I haven't exercised once this week. I had plenty of time Monday, since I called in sick on our dreary, cold, rainy day, but spent most of my time reading for my class. With my butt firmly planted on the couch. I tried to put on one of my favorite skirts (my only winter item for my lower half that's not pants)Tuesday and it basically fit. But when I looked in the mirror and saw how much stomach was poofed over the top it pissed me off, made me sad and depressed me all at once. I opted for pants.
I've got a lot to do: a ton of homework, three film reviews to write, another film to see, quick trip to WalMart...There's got to be something I'm forgetting. Oh yeah, trying not to stuff my face with food from the sadness. That's it.
I haven't exercised once this week. I had plenty of time Monday, since I called in sick on our dreary, cold, rainy day, but spent most of my time reading for my class. With my butt firmly planted on the couch. I tried to put on one of my favorite skirts (my only winter item for my lower half that's not pants)Tuesday and it basically fit. But when I looked in the mirror and saw how much stomach was poofed over the top it pissed me off, made me sad and depressed me all at once. I opted for pants.
I've got a lot to do: a ton of homework, three film reviews to write, another film to see, quick trip to WalMart...There's got to be something I'm forgetting. Oh yeah, trying not to stuff my face with food from the sadness. That's it.
Thursday, October 12, 2006
Sorts
I'm foggy today. I can't concentrate on anything for very long. My brain feels heavy. I spent 10 minutes trying to figure out how to turn a cardboard ring into a bangle bracelet. I am obviously not quite right. The endless round of stuffy, runny, sneezy, blowy nose crap is getting to me. I had to get up at 4:30 this morning to pee and stayed up until five taking allergy meds, drinking hot tea and blowing my nose but having nothing come out. All I want? To curl up in bed and sleep.
On a really, seriously good note though, I got two more film review assignments today. One tonight and one for Saturday morning. Thank God. I though I'd burned that bridge. Why? Well it's a long story that I'll make simple: I missed a screening. That's right, I had to tell my editor that I couldn't write one of the reviews he assigned me because I wasn't able to see the damn movie. What happened? It's my fault and the boy's fault and there was irritation and anger and disappointment and it's all three weeks over now. The point is that I don't have to have a talk with my editor asking if he's avoiding me because of the incident. I don't care if I only get to review the crap movies for a bit, I'm working my way back into his good graces.
On a really, seriously good note though, I got two more film review assignments today. One tonight and one for Saturday morning. Thank God. I though I'd burned that bridge. Why? Well it's a long story that I'll make simple: I missed a screening. That's right, I had to tell my editor that I couldn't write one of the reviews he assigned me because I wasn't able to see the damn movie. What happened? It's my fault and the boy's fault and there was irritation and anger and disappointment and it's all three weeks over now. The point is that I don't have to have a talk with my editor asking if he's avoiding me because of the incident. I don't care if I only get to review the crap movies for a bit, I'm working my way back into his good graces.
Tuesday, October 10, 2006
Where The Hell Have I Been?
-Sneezing*. You remember how I've had allergies all summer? Well today a new phenomenom started: blowing my nose now causes me to fart. And not little, cute *pop* *ptttthhhppp* farts but big, hard *BOOM* *CRACK* *DAMN* farts. Also? The odor, she is bad. Shit. Stop it gastrointestinal tract! I hate you now.
-Being speckled. Apparently I'm allergic to something I've used on my face recently. How do I know this? Because for the past week I've looked like someone attacked me with gravel...and it stuck to my face. The skin thing was bad enough, but then I woke up Friday morning with puffy, puss lips. Fuck. What's wrong with you skin? I had to see my mom for her birthday like this -- the next day. I was really afraid she'd notice, pull me aside and ask "What the hell did that boy give you? What the shit did he do to your face!!?" Luckily it was kinda dark in her house and she can't really see anyway. Thank you Sweet Baby Jesus for mid-life sight loss.
-Under paying my credit card bill. Did you know that if you paid your bill on time but accidentally forgot to pay enough to cover the minimum that you'd get hit with a late fee? Did you know that this "late" fee cost me $39 this month? No? Yeah, well, it did. Dammit Chase bank! Why can't a sista get ahead!? I owed them $139 this month which just about ate up my raise. Thusly, I have $12 to keep me until Friday, when the pay/pity cycle starts all over again.
-Working. So I've got this new job, right? I love the new freedom. I just kinda miss the old freedom a teensy bit, too. Jeez, I'm greedy.
-Not answering the phone. I don't have to listen to a ringing phone all day anymore so I don't. And. It. Is. AWESOME. My phone is on "do not disturb" so any calls go directly to my voice mail. If people leave an email address I get in touch that way instead of calling. BECAUSE I CAN. Loverly.
-Addressing the issue that is my flab. Turns out I weigh a whole ton more than I thought I did. I stepped on a scale last week and it's amazing that I didn't start crying on the spot. Unbelievable that I didn't become hysterical and then fall into a coma from the stress that is...SEEING EVIDENCE THAT I WEIGH 132 POUNDS. Fan-fucking-tastic folks. I now weigh around what my mom did at this ripe old age of 31. I've been doing well not eating late. I can even watch the boy eat Taco Bell, Jack'n the Box, McDonald's, chocolate covered peanuts, Snickers, etc. at midnight and not join in. Exercise? I'm still shooting for 30 minutes a day but haven't made it yet. Doesn't mean it's not still my goal. Cause it is. You hear that flab? I'm comin for ya!
-Wondering how I can finally have an orgasm. Shit. Do I need to take a siminar, or what?
-Watching tv. Also known as watching LOST, Studio 60, Gilmore Girls, Veronica Mars, Girlfriends (maybe past its peak), Desperate Housewives (will never be as good as the first season again), The Office, My Name is Earl, Supernatural, Smallville, Grey's Anatomy, Family Guy and American Dad. See? I'm busy.
-Not getting any film review assignments. I can't help but believe that this is directly related to an incident two weeks ago. Dammit, I'll tell you about it later.
-Comforting the boy after Eddie Van Halen scared the crap outta him.
*Do any of you ever feel that blowing your nose makes it bigger? Fine. You can lie to me, but not yourselves...liers.
-Being speckled. Apparently I'm allergic to something I've used on my face recently. How do I know this? Because for the past week I've looked like someone attacked me with gravel...and it stuck to my face. The skin thing was bad enough, but then I woke up Friday morning with puffy, puss lips. Fuck. What's wrong with you skin? I had to see my mom for her birthday like this -- the next day. I was really afraid she'd notice, pull me aside and ask "What the hell did that boy give you? What the shit did he do to your face!!?" Luckily it was kinda dark in her house and she can't really see anyway. Thank you Sweet Baby Jesus for mid-life sight loss.
-Under paying my credit card bill. Did you know that if you paid your bill on time but accidentally forgot to pay enough to cover the minimum that you'd get hit with a late fee? Did you know that this "late" fee cost me $39 this month? No? Yeah, well, it did. Dammit Chase bank! Why can't a sista get ahead!? I owed them $139 this month which just about ate up my raise. Thusly, I have $12 to keep me until Friday, when the pay/pity cycle starts all over again.
-Working. So I've got this new job, right? I love the new freedom. I just kinda miss the old freedom a teensy bit, too. Jeez, I'm greedy.
-Not answering the phone. I don't have to listen to a ringing phone all day anymore so I don't. And. It. Is. AWESOME. My phone is on "do not disturb" so any calls go directly to my voice mail. If people leave an email address I get in touch that way instead of calling. BECAUSE I CAN. Loverly.
-Addressing the issue that is my flab. Turns out I weigh a whole ton more than I thought I did. I stepped on a scale last week and it's amazing that I didn't start crying on the spot. Unbelievable that I didn't become hysterical and then fall into a coma from the stress that is...SEEING EVIDENCE THAT I WEIGH 132 POUNDS. Fan-fucking-tastic folks. I now weigh around what my mom did at this ripe old age of 31. I've been doing well not eating late. I can even watch the boy eat Taco Bell, Jack'n the Box, McDonald's, chocolate covered peanuts, Snickers, etc. at midnight and not join in. Exercise? I'm still shooting for 30 minutes a day but haven't made it yet. Doesn't mean it's not still my goal. Cause it is. You hear that flab? I'm comin for ya!
-Wondering how I can finally have an orgasm. Shit. Do I need to take a siminar, or what?
-Watching tv. Also known as watching LOST, Studio 60, Gilmore Girls, Veronica Mars, Girlfriends (maybe past its peak), Desperate Housewives (will never be as good as the first season again), The Office, My Name is Earl, Supernatural, Smallville, Grey's Anatomy, Family Guy and American Dad. See? I'm busy.
-Not getting any film review assignments. I can't help but believe that this is directly related to an incident two weeks ago. Dammit, I'll tell you about it later.
-Comforting the boy after Eddie Van Halen scared the crap outta him.
*Do any of you ever feel that blowing your nose makes it bigger? Fine. You can lie to me, but not yourselves...liers.
Wednesday, September 27, 2006
These Are My Thighs
I made the mistake of going to my beloved Gap outlet store this weekend. Why was it a mistake? Because I knew what was going to happen. I'd find pants in my size (18 to 20...yeah, I know) try them on and be disappointed. I wish I could just blame the Gap. Say that they've started making things like crap, but it ain't true.
So I found a ton of cheap pants to try on. I took about 12 pairs into the fitting room, and NONE of them fit me. Not even the size 20s. The only thing that stopped me from crying is that the boy was there. When I got done he was sitting in front of the fitting room waiting for me. He sounded shocked when I said that not-a-one of those pants (oh, except for the sweats, which were a XXL)fit my ass.
"You mean they didn't fit the way you like them to, or they didn't fit?"
"They didn't fit."
"So, they just..."
"I couldn't even get some of them on."
"Ok. Even the 20s?"
"Even those."
I could tell he was horrified. Not just because he realized his fiancee was a giant, but because he saw I was upset by the same realization.
"Do you think that maybe it was just those pants? The way they're made?"
Bless his country heart for trying to make this all the Gap's fault. I fessed up, I've gained a lot of weight. I didn't give him the exact number, but revealed that pants I wore in the spring don't fit now. Last time I went to the doctor I was 220 lbs. I'm kinda tall, so I'm capable of carrying it without looking like an oompa loompa, but still. I'm way too heavy. I told myself I wouldn't get past a size 20 and I seem to have done it anyway.
"This'll be ok," he says. "We need to exercise more. If we just stick to walking and playing frisbee every day, it'll take awhile but we'll get in shape. I can stand to lose about 10 pounds. And, I'd never suggest you lose weight 'cause I think you look great, but if you're worried about it this will help you too."
Theoretically this is easy. Stop eating so much junk so often and get off your ass. But I love sitting on my ass! When I sit on my ass I can watch movies and tv and read books and magazines. I'd love, really to get back to 180lbs. Going up the boy's two flights of stairs would be so much easier. Everything would be easier.
How did I let myself get so lazy?
So I found a ton of cheap pants to try on. I took about 12 pairs into the fitting room, and NONE of them fit me. Not even the size 20s. The only thing that stopped me from crying is that the boy was there. When I got done he was sitting in front of the fitting room waiting for me. He sounded shocked when I said that not-a-one of those pants (oh, except for the sweats, which were a XXL)fit my ass.
"You mean they didn't fit the way you like them to, or they didn't fit?"
"They didn't fit."
"So, they just..."
"I couldn't even get some of them on."
"Ok. Even the 20s?"
"Even those."
I could tell he was horrified. Not just because he realized his fiancee was a giant, but because he saw I was upset by the same realization.
"Do you think that maybe it was just those pants? The way they're made?"
Bless his country heart for trying to make this all the Gap's fault. I fessed up, I've gained a lot of weight. I didn't give him the exact number, but revealed that pants I wore in the spring don't fit now. Last time I went to the doctor I was 220 lbs. I'm kinda tall, so I'm capable of carrying it without looking like an oompa loompa, but still. I'm way too heavy. I told myself I wouldn't get past a size 20 and I seem to have done it anyway.
"This'll be ok," he says. "We need to exercise more. If we just stick to walking and playing frisbee every day, it'll take awhile but we'll get in shape. I can stand to lose about 10 pounds. And, I'd never suggest you lose weight 'cause I think you look great, but if you're worried about it this will help you too."
Theoretically this is easy. Stop eating so much junk so often and get off your ass. But I love sitting on my ass! When I sit on my ass I can watch movies and tv and read books and magazines. I'd love, really to get back to 180lbs. Going up the boy's two flights of stairs would be so much easier. Everything would be easier.
How did I let myself get so lazy?
Monday, September 25, 2006
And The Hits Just Keep A'Comin
Wouldn't you know it? I'm not free yet. My Panamanian replacement had some difficulties and was promptly fired on Tuesday afternoon. I got called into the boss' office and told "We've got a problem..." I was not happy, but here's the deal: I work the front from open until my lunch, then after lunch whoever they can pull from the rest of the office will take over. I still get my new salary, and my permanent replacement starts in 1 week. I agreed to do it, hoping that it'll buy me some points with my boss.
Still, though, I'm outrageously happy about the new job. And I've hardly ever had to get on the phone. That? Is. Amazing.
Still, though, I'm outrageously happy about the new job. And I've hardly ever had to get on the phone. That? Is. Amazing.
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