Wow. It's been so long since my last post that the internets didn't even remember the website. I had to type the whole thing in the address bar. Ah, I shall be faint with fatigue if I have to keep up such difficulties.
My parents came to visit last weekend and we had a great time. I'll post more on that later (at a time when there is no reasonable expectation that I am doing actual work instead of blogging...heh) and it took nary but 30 minutes time to realize that I should be chronicling all the weird things my dad said during his brief stay. I think I whipped out the paper and pen while we were still just driving back from the airport. The highlights are as follows. Pay close attention, you TOO may be old and weird one day, and you'll want to reuse some of these.
ME (on the phone making a work appointment): Thank you (name), I'll see you at (time, place).
-just barely hangs up phone in time-
DAD: Are you sure you're not a prostitute?
SCENE: Sitting at an outdoor restaurant with mom, dad, me, facing a fancy entrance to a very well marked building.
DAD (motioning to the building with very clear signage): Have you ever eaten at that restaurant?
ME: That's a food court, dad.
- to be clear, the sign on the building said "FOOD COURT"-
DAD: Oh.
SCENE: At the bar of a nice upscale restaurant, having a drink while we wait on an open table.
BARTENDER (to dad): And what can I get for you, sir?
DAD, loudly: Do you have any blackberry wine?
-Dad is referring to cheap flavored wine, along the lines of Boons Farm or Arbor Mist.
BARTENDER, clearly confused: Uh, no sir. I believe all of our wine is made from grapes. Do you like...grape...flavored wine?
DAD: No, huh-uh.
Scene.
Friday, May 29, 2009
Sunday, May 3, 2009
Comes Back Around
A year ago I wrote a post about how I had unfortunately procrastinated in packing to move into my first solo apartment. Welp, hello again! I move to my SECOND solo apartment in a mere 3 days and I have nary even a single item boxed. Granted, I don't have a lot of stuff, but you would think that I would be more on top of things. Or, if you actually know me, you would not. At all. In fact you would be impressed that I even remembered the move date. Sadly, this go-round is a little different because on top of moving I also have a solid bit of work to do (from home) so I can have time to move. And if there's one thing I'm good at, its putting everything off to the last minute in favor of more stimulating activities like watching Dirty Jobs and Girls Next Door.
I typed out a whole paragraph detailing my disappointment in the Sunday 1:00 pm TV lineup, but when I reread it I sounded way more pathetic than I will allow, even on a quasi anonymous blog. So I guess writing this post is my last stand, the final frontier between me and my work. And I'm afraid I've lost. Damn.
I typed out a whole paragraph detailing my disappointment in the Sunday 1:00 pm TV lineup, but when I reread it I sounded way more pathetic than I will allow, even on a quasi anonymous blog. So I guess writing this post is my last stand, the final frontier between me and my work. And I'm afraid I've lost. Damn.
Tuesday, April 28, 2009
I'm Melting
Good news! I "calmly alerted" my apartment management that I was experiencing a "moderate pest issue" and they sent in exterminators to spray my place the following Friday. Naturally, I made a mental note to have everything neat and tidy for my Friday saviours, and planned as such so that the exterminators, whose esteem I clearly desire, would know that I was just the unfortunate victim in this insect tragedy, not the cause of such. Unfortunately, while they told me the exterminators would be in on Friday, they actually came on Wednesday, and I was quite unprepared for guests. Luckily, I was not at home typing in my underwear...ahem...not that I do that anyway, I'm always properly dressed when working...but unluckily I was about 12 hours away from doing dishes. Which means that the kitchen could best have been described as unseemly. When I got home on Wednesday evening I saw a note from said exterminators cautioning me not to leave out dirty dishes, as they attract bugs. But...but...but...I'm a clean person!....they weren't supposed to come until Friday!....I would have had everything nice and tidy on Friday!...I've been framed! I definitely wasn't prepared for the Wednesday visit, and I have half a mind to invite those exterminators back over to show them that I am clean and keep a tidy apartment, and the roaches aren't my fault. I can feel their judging eyes on me even to this day. It haunts me.
The note from the exterminators also cautioned not to spray any insecticide in my apartment as it may interfere with the effectiveness of their spray....uh....considering I practically set up a Raid bomb in my apartment nary but 2 weeks ago, that may be a problem.
I think bugs are just attracted to me no matter how much Raid I spray. Yesterday when I finally got home after a long day I noticed an itch at my scalp. When I went to scratch, a freaking ladybug flew out of my hair. Ok, fine, it wasn't a ladybug...it was one of those stink bugs that look like brown ladybugs...but definitely not as bad as a roach in my bathtub. I let the "ladybug" live and it is now just hanging out on my wall. No reason to smash a stinkb...er...ladybug in my apartment.
Summer has brought all of its sweaty, uncomfortable friends to my neighborhood for a block party way too early this year. The last couple days have been in the low 90's and today its supposed to be 89. Which means my apartment is hot. Sauna hot. I should charge myself to sit here. My bananas are ripening at a ridiculous rate and I no longer have to bother with boiling water to make tea. Also, my skin is melting off. Yet I REFUSE to turn on the air conditioner. In April. Even though, according to my mom, this qualifies me for early entry into the old lady club. I'm ok with that. Even though I realize that it would probably only increase my electric bill by about $20, I abstain on principle alone, even if that means sweating to death buck naked in my insect infested apartment with the dirty dishes.
Psych. I have no scruples. I turned the air on halfway through the post.
The note from the exterminators also cautioned not to spray any insecticide in my apartment as it may interfere with the effectiveness of their spray....uh....considering I practically set up a Raid bomb in my apartment nary but 2 weeks ago, that may be a problem.
I think bugs are just attracted to me no matter how much Raid I spray. Yesterday when I finally got home after a long day I noticed an itch at my scalp. When I went to scratch, a freaking ladybug flew out of my hair. Ok, fine, it wasn't a ladybug...it was one of those stink bugs that look like brown ladybugs...but definitely not as bad as a roach in my bathtub. I let the "ladybug" live and it is now just hanging out on my wall. No reason to smash a stinkb...er...ladybug in my apartment.
Summer has brought all of its sweaty, uncomfortable friends to my neighborhood for a block party way too early this year. The last couple days have been in the low 90's and today its supposed to be 89. Which means my apartment is hot. Sauna hot. I should charge myself to sit here. My bananas are ripening at a ridiculous rate and I no longer have to bother with boiling water to make tea. Also, my skin is melting off. Yet I REFUSE to turn on the air conditioner. In April. Even though, according to my mom, this qualifies me for early entry into the old lady club. I'm ok with that. Even though I realize that it would probably only increase my electric bill by about $20, I abstain on principle alone, even if that means sweating to death buck naked in my insect infested apartment with the dirty dishes.
Psych. I have no scruples. I turned the air on halfway through the post.
Thursday, April 9, 2009
Unholy War Against Nature
Fueled by a bottle of lambic peach, I decide to post yet again.
Nature has it out for me. And it knows exactly which irrational fear buttons to push to send me over the edge. Last Sunday, on the day of our Lord, a sacred and holy day, a day for relaxation and reflection on the blessings we've all been given, the spawn of Satan himself made a visit to my home. For four terrifying hours I struggled with this unholy spawn, until I was so mentally and emotionally exhausted I thought I would surely give up. But I didn't. And with one last push of all the strength I had, I finally overcame.
There was a roach in my bathtub.
A ROACH in my BATHTUB. The place I go naked. The place that cleanses me. The place I go to relax after a hard day or a workout or a stress knot in my back. And I found a live roach. In there. It was 3 pennies long. Do you have any idea how terrifying it is to pull back your shower curtain and find a live 3-penny long roach flipped up on its back with its hairy spikey legs floundering in the air and 4 inch antenna flopping against the floor?
Luckily, or so I thought, it appeared the offending creature has already partially succumbed to my protective spray of preventative Raid that I faithfully hose through my apartment every 3 months. However, to be on the safe side I immediately, after a brief minute of wigging out and pacing frantically through my living room, sprayed it down with at least a half can of additional Raid. Then I "calmly" shut the bathroom door so that the roach could finish its death sentence in peace, as I would wish it do the same for me if it or any of its 8 billion relatives were ever to show up in my apartment in the future, and then vowed never to enter my bathroom again. No more than seconds later I called boyfriend to come remove the beast from my presence.
Except he didn't answer. I left a "calm" yet non-descript message requesting his immediate assistance, as he doesn't quite understand my irrational yet pervasive fear of bugs whose only true potential for harm to humans is producing the heebie jeebies. And waited. And waited. And then I sent a text. And waited. It soon became obvious that this distressed damsel needed to grow a pair and double as her own charming prince. And I can be very charming. I went into the bathroom again, peered into the bathtub and wouldn't you know that f-ing bug was still f-ing alive! FOUR HOURS LATER after literally wading in a pool of poison, this mutant of a roach is still kicking around its hairy spikey legs and the damn antenna again flop against the floor. Literally, the bug was drenched in roach spray for four hours. No effect. Still alive.
I called in the only infallible action I know- I took my moms advice. Mom is wise. She told me to smash it with something heavy. So I did. And it died. Finally. And then I had roach guts all over my bathtub. And then I took a nap. Exhausting work, extermination and hyperventilation.
After a long and well deserved nap, I knew I had to dispose of the creature somehow. Flushing seemed the most fitting and least creepy method. So I taped together three pieces of junk mail end to end to create the longest "shovel" with the most stability to scoop up the roach-that-would-not-quit, and as quickly and with the least amount of shaking possible, I flung it into the toilet. And flushed. Oh no! In my fog of panic I completely forgot about the weak swirl! Very limited flushing power! The flush was unsuccessful! THIS ROACH WILL HAUNT MY DREAMS! I will never be rid of it! But I had come so far, I would not give up now. Three more flushes and I was finally free of the roaches snare. And now, the next Thursday, I was able to take a shower for more than 30 seconds in my bathroom without fear. Baby steps.
Nature has it out for me. And it knows exactly which irrational fear buttons to push to send me over the edge. Last Sunday, on the day of our Lord, a sacred and holy day, a day for relaxation and reflection on the blessings we've all been given, the spawn of Satan himself made a visit to my home. For four terrifying hours I struggled with this unholy spawn, until I was so mentally and emotionally exhausted I thought I would surely give up. But I didn't. And with one last push of all the strength I had, I finally overcame.
There was a roach in my bathtub.
A ROACH in my BATHTUB. The place I go naked. The place that cleanses me. The place I go to relax after a hard day or a workout or a stress knot in my back. And I found a live roach. In there. It was 3 pennies long. Do you have any idea how terrifying it is to pull back your shower curtain and find a live 3-penny long roach flipped up on its back with its hairy spikey legs floundering in the air and 4 inch antenna flopping against the floor?
Luckily, or so I thought, it appeared the offending creature has already partially succumbed to my protective spray of preventative Raid that I faithfully hose through my apartment every 3 months. However, to be on the safe side I immediately, after a brief minute of wigging out and pacing frantically through my living room, sprayed it down with at least a half can of additional Raid. Then I "calmly" shut the bathroom door so that the roach could finish its death sentence in peace, as I would wish it do the same for me if it or any of its 8 billion relatives were ever to show up in my apartment in the future, and then vowed never to enter my bathroom again. No more than seconds later I called boyfriend to come remove the beast from my presence.
Except he didn't answer. I left a "calm" yet non-descript message requesting his immediate assistance, as he doesn't quite understand my irrational yet pervasive fear of bugs whose only true potential for harm to humans is producing the heebie jeebies. And waited. And waited. And then I sent a text. And waited. It soon became obvious that this distressed damsel needed to grow a pair and double as her own charming prince. And I can be very charming. I went into the bathroom again, peered into the bathtub and wouldn't you know that f-ing bug was still f-ing alive! FOUR HOURS LATER after literally wading in a pool of poison, this mutant of a roach is still kicking around its hairy spikey legs and the damn antenna again flop against the floor. Literally, the bug was drenched in roach spray for four hours. No effect. Still alive.
I called in the only infallible action I know- I took my moms advice. Mom is wise. She told me to smash it with something heavy. So I did. And it died. Finally. And then I had roach guts all over my bathtub. And then I took a nap. Exhausting work, extermination and hyperventilation.
After a long and well deserved nap, I knew I had to dispose of the creature somehow. Flushing seemed the most fitting and least creepy method. So I taped together three pieces of junk mail end to end to create the longest "shovel" with the most stability to scoop up the roach-that-would-not-quit, and as quickly and with the least amount of shaking possible, I flung it into the toilet. And flushed. Oh no! In my fog of panic I completely forgot about the weak swirl! Very limited flushing power! The flush was unsuccessful! THIS ROACH WILL HAUNT MY DREAMS! I will never be rid of it! But I had come so far, I would not give up now. Three more flushes and I was finally free of the roaches snare. And now, the next Thursday, I was able to take a shower for more than 30 seconds in my bathroom without fear. Baby steps.
Tuesday, March 17, 2009
Grassroots Effort
Right now if you were to walk into my apartment, your first impression would likely be that I've been robbed. It's a mess. But it's MY mess.... ..... ..... Ugh, yeah, that logic isn't working. Why is it SO HARD to keep my place clean and orderly? I need a manservant. A tidy muscular manservant.
I was horrified last night when I read an article about the earmarks in the economic stimulus plan. As you know, I am SO politically minded. So you can understand my outrage when I read about the millions of dollars being spent to eradicate the Mormon cricket in the Northwest. Outraged because I think this issue actually deserve billions, if not trillions, and should be immediately elevated to national security levels. Can you imagine how terrifying it would be to have swarms and hordes of "roaches with grasshopper legs" tear through your town?!? One lady even said she would wake up to these 3-inch long MONSTERS in her BED! AUGH! Just reading that made me sleep with the light on. Lets all rally congress to supply more funding so that we can get this problem cleared up before the abominations make their way to the East Coast.
Please, write to your congressman today.
I was horrified last night when I read an article about the earmarks in the economic stimulus plan. As you know, I am SO politically minded. So you can understand my outrage when I read about the millions of dollars being spent to eradicate the Mormon cricket in the Northwest. Outraged because I think this issue actually deserve billions, if not trillions, and should be immediately elevated to national security levels. Can you imagine how terrifying it would be to have swarms and hordes of "roaches with grasshopper legs" tear through your town?!? One lady even said she would wake up to these 3-inch long MONSTERS in her BED! AUGH! Just reading that made me sleep with the light on. Lets all rally congress to supply more funding so that we can get this problem cleared up before the abominations make their way to the East Coast.
Please, write to your congressman today.
Monday, March 2, 2009
Welcome Back, Sanity
The last few weeks here at homestead Chatfield Lite have been kind of rough. I started getting behind at work- and if I haven't mentioned before, I work from home, so there is nary a time when a distraction is not but a few inches away. See also: 460 square foot apartment. Nothing is ever more than a few inches away. Unless it is in someone elses place.
Anyway, so I got behind on a bit of work, and then I started working frantically to get caught up. All that work then led to gross neglect of domestic responsibilities. And then mail started piling up. And then I kept forgetting to call about renewing my lease. And then my dishes didn't wash themselves and I ran out of underwear and I got a letter from the DMV about insuring my car that I don't drive that I didn't realize needed to be insured while it wasn't being used. But now I know. So last night I got to an ugly place where I realized I was running low on non-guilt related issues in my personal and professional life. So I went over to boyfriends house and watched Harry Potter.
Ok, so that last part wasn't quite the solution I was looking for, but today I have my resolve back and my dignity is also not so far away. I'm staying in today not only because of the overwhelming responsibilities that I've neglected, but also because Mother Nature or Father Time or Aunt Flo or some other obscure relative/mythical force of nature decided to dump 5 inches of snow on the ground. Just the excuse I need to get caught up on work and life! I'm doing things in phases. Work for an hour, TV for 15 (er...or was it 30?) minutes, clean the kitchen for an hour (yes, it took an hour), put some clothes away, and back to work. Oh, and blog. Always blog.
Today is officially Get Your Shit Together Day in honor of that person whom I sometimes wish I were if only becoming her didn't cut into my reruns of NCIS. Happy GYST-D everyone!
Anyway, so I got behind on a bit of work, and then I started working frantically to get caught up. All that work then led to gross neglect of domestic responsibilities. And then mail started piling up. And then I kept forgetting to call about renewing my lease. And then my dishes didn't wash themselves and I ran out of underwear and I got a letter from the DMV about insuring my car that I don't drive that I didn't realize needed to be insured while it wasn't being used. But now I know. So last night I got to an ugly place where I realized I was running low on non-guilt related issues in my personal and professional life. So I went over to boyfriends house and watched Harry Potter.
Ok, so that last part wasn't quite the solution I was looking for, but today I have my resolve back and my dignity is also not so far away. I'm staying in today not only because of the overwhelming responsibilities that I've neglected, but also because Mother Nature or Father Time or Aunt Flo or some other obscure relative/mythical force of nature decided to dump 5 inches of snow on the ground. Just the excuse I need to get caught up on work and life! I'm doing things in phases. Work for an hour, TV for 15 (er...or was it 30?) minutes, clean the kitchen for an hour (yes, it took an hour), put some clothes away, and back to work. Oh, and blog. Always blog.
Today is officially Get Your Shit Together Day in honor of that person whom I sometimes wish I were if only becoming her didn't cut into my reruns of NCIS. Happy GYST-D everyone!
Monday, February 23, 2009
Overage Drinking
There was a guy at the grocery store today who was clearly intoxicated, and when our paths intersected in the bread isle, he looked me straight in the eyes, grabbed the end of my cart, shook it a little and screamed "BOO!" Uh....
Yeah. I just laughed manically and walked by quickly. That was the right thing to do, right?
Yeah. I just laughed manically and walked by quickly. That was the right thing to do, right?
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