Dropped my car off at the mechanic this morning for a lube/oil/filter/doohicky service. For the record, my mechanic charges $17.95 for this service.
As of the last phone call I received, the bill stands at $580. Mind you, I'm approving all of this work because:
(1) I sort of trust them
(2) I don't know how to fix spark plugs, engine wires, and valve cover gaskets, and
(3) I just want it done.
Am I getting hosed? Perhaps. Frankly, I'm beyond the point of caring right about now. I don't have the time or the energy to run around town having several mechanics give me estimates -- I have this thing called A JOB. I also have a complex about scrimping when it comes to large ticket items - especially the ones that, if in a state of ill repair, could be deadly to myself, my passengers, or innocent bystanders. I guess I'll just open up my wallet, because my sense of humor has run dry.
I'm officially down - anyone want to kick me?
Needless to say, it's been a rough week. Here's hoping the next one is a little bit better. Because, at this point, there's nowhere to go but up.
Perhaps I need to take this straight talkin' business of mine and turn it into a career...
In retrospect, I realize now that I had the boy. And while he was Pretty Cool, she had the cute, girly pink one. Which probably made her cooler, but we won't get into that. It's all water under the stuffed animal bridge.
In unpacking my new place, I ran across a raggedy box. I knew instinctively that it came from our old house -- the one with the wood paneled walls, the disco dance floor (lights and all! so tacky and yet we loved it), and the rust-colored carpeting. I opened it, expecting 19 different types of woodroach to crawl out, and instead was greeted by none other than PC Popple himself. He was laying on top of a small pile of my most treasured "keeper" stuffed animals: an insanely soft Briggs Snowman, several tattered CareBears, a couple Pound Puppies, and my cherished teddy bear "Hug Me." (I got him as a gift in first grade, and it said "Hug Me" on his t-shirt. I'm a clever little minx, no? Am grade-A genius, so just shut up.)
I grabbed PC Popple, checked his pouch for roaches (none thank God) and smelled him. He smelled just like our basement -- like sleepovers and couch pillow forts, like dust and dress up clothing, like the time I spilled lemonade all over my sister's Barbies and didn't explain what I'd done when she wanted to know why their hair was all sticky. It was such an amazing flashback, I almost couldn't put him back in the box.
Last I heard she was still living in Ridgewood, NJ...
Hmmm. Not so much.
Last I heard she was studying law at Brigham Young...
The only thing worse than living in Utah would be me working in a legal capacity.
Last I heard she was setting up her own PR company...
Strangely, I have considered this.
Last I heard she was quite ill and was wondering if she was ok...
Yup, just fine. Nothing to see here.
Last I heard she was doing satellite operations work for a Beltway Bandit...
If I was employed by a superhero, this blog would be WAY more interesting.
Last I heard she was very...
scary? wary? fine?
Last I heard she was dating one of those Bruce Jenner-boy brats...
Since when is Bruce Jenner attractive? Gross.
Last I heard she was in Los Angeles...
Oh GOD no. Spare me. I hate that place.
Last I heard she was living in Iowa...
That would at least be better than LA
Last I heard she was working for Conan O'Brien...
I found Imogen Heap through Frou Frou a couple months before Garden State hit theaters...I couldn't turn it off, literally. It played in my head for months. Her new single "Headlock" makes me want to hit the dance studio again -- there's a really specific, unique rhythm to the song that is a bit reminiscent of vintage Annie Lennox stuff. I. Just. F$$$ing. Love. It.
CLICK HERE to listen to my new favorite song.
Turns out that I can't even make a Crock-Pot meal well. The sweet potatoes were mushy (should have used regular potatoes) and the pork was tough (should have used beef). Aaaah! Even the industry-approved recipes are out to get me.
At least I didn't set off the fire alarm.
Other random things accomplished this weekend
- Purchased dog's "outfits" for possible holiday card photoshoot. Includes a red, satin bowtie and a santa hat with long, white beard attached.
- Played game of Life with some friends for the first time in a LONG time. I forgot how much fun that game is! I retired with a paltry $632,000. Given my financial skills, I see this as a harbinger of things to come. Anyone want to make me a budget?
- Joined Netflix. Soon to arrive will be "Akeelah and The Bee," and "Bride & Prejudice." Stop laughing.
- Took dog to vet where I was praised for my superior skills at keeping another living being alive. (probably because it doesn't involve cooking)
- Finished a product review for DeLush on a set of vegan, organic shampoo/conditioner. It makes my hair real purty - see below.
Annoying, yes? Even in writing it's irritating!
I think I may have found the solution. Apparently, all I had to do was play "Money for Nothing," by Dire Straits. I am not kidding about this.
I gave it five minutes, then cued up the same song on my iPod -- sure enough, he stopped whining again. I'm not sure what to make of this, but I find it pretty entertaining.
Here's the deal - Halloween is right around the corner, whether we like it or not. My sister is in semi-crisis mode, trying to figure out what to dress her children as for the big event. My niece is 3, and my nephew is 1. So she's basically got an open playing field because the kiddies can't fight back -- she could dress them up as Joliet and Lewis, put them in a wagon disguised as a canoe, and teach Bri to say "we come in peace," and they would go along with it. That's the beauty of having kids -- it gives you someone to embarass all in the name of "good, clean fun."
I, for one, am not a fan of matchy-matchy Halloween costumes (with the singular exception of the time Jen and Jeff went as Mike & Carol Brady). When adults show up to a party dressed as (a) an outlet and plug, (b) salt and pepper, or (c) ketchup and mustard, it drives me batty. With kids, however, it's a completely different ballgame.
So this is what I'm asking: Oh, readers of the best website ever, if YOU had young children, what pairing would YOU make them dress as? Comment with your suggestions.
For the record, I've already suggested:
Snow White & Poopy (the little-known 8th dwarf)
Dorothy & Toto
Cher & Sonny
Or perhaps, they dress individually? What about...
Whats-her-face who got booted by Trump?
Fire away with the suggestions!
This is from the end of the unit, looking towards the kitchen.
BathroomLooking into the kitchen from the main room
So...the green is the dining nook. The flash keeps you from seeing the true color - it's a bit darker. Frankly, I loved the green immediately, but I'm not sure I like it so much now that it's mixed with the other colors.
And there you have it! Once I get my act together, assemble some bookshelves, and figure out a small lighting issue, I'll post another set of photos.
Long story short - I need a couple vacation days to recover from my vacation days.
Painting photos coming soon, must get back to work.
And by "work," I mean drafting a letter to my immediate neighbors, apologizing for the constant barking, and thanking them for their patience while Doc adjusts to his new (and still pretty foreign) surroundings.
Hopefully this will keep them from calling the management office and complaining.
- Avoiding the eye contact of skeevy Home Depot paint guy while he mixes up an extra gallon of "Gobi Desert" Behr Premium Plus (also known as a dark khaki)
- Realizing that haste in leaving said Home Depot (in order to avoid further contact with skeevy paint guy) did not pay off: the wrong base was used. Second trip to Home Depot begins...
- Getting rear-ended by a woman named Carmel while attempting to merge on Congress Parkway. I don't know what was more disturbing - that she thought I wasn't there RIGHT IN FRONT OF HER CAR, or that her name is Carmel. Perhaps she has a sister named Butterscotch?
- Back pain
- Ordering pizza from a neighborhood joint, and having them mistakenly deliver it less than 1/4 block. Gee, thanks, stupid order taker guy. I said pickup, you heard delivery. Now your delivery guy thinks I'm the laziest person on earth.
- Paint fumes
- Getting used to have color (!) in my place of residence. I've been renting for so long, that I'd almost begun to think white was "just fine." Now I have to completely reprogram myself.
On deck for tomorrow? A wedding shower, AND a bachelorette party! I'll be making a seamless transition from tea cups and knife sets to penis straws and drunkenness.
At least it doesn't involve painting. Opa!
Ummm...I'm not sure how to say this, but I'll try my best:
1. Apparently I look similar to androgynous, Asian people. RAWK!
2. On the bottom right? Do you see that frightful creature? WHO IS THAT?! IS THAT A MAN? DO I LOOK LIKE THAT, REALLY, MAYBE IN THE MORNING WITH DRIED DROOL ON THE SIDE OF MY FACE, AND NO MAKEUP?
GAH! I literally had a minor heart attack when I first saw it -- innocently winding my way around the circle until...DUH DUH DUNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNN. There it was.
Once the painting is finished, I'll toss up some before & after photos for you lovely folks to see.
To say that I'm excited would be accurate, but to say that I'm more excited NOT to live in my current apartment? Well, that would just be the understatement of the century. Everytime I walk in, I love my new place more and more.
Unlike my apartment, I will actually miss this:
I took this from the alleyway outside my back door - 6 blocks away from the field. When the Cubs have a night game, the lights from Wrigley Field always manage to illuminate the surrounding neighborhood. It's an eerie thing (esp. once the game has finished and the crowds die down, but the lights stay on for the cleaning crews), but one of my favorite things about living here. It feels as if a space ship has landed in the middle of the north side. So strange, and so cool.
Also, I feel bad complaining to anyone because today is the 5th anniversary of 9/11, and my coworker's checking account information was stolen online last night and her entire account was wiped out. So, suddenly, my eyes don't seem all that bad anymore.
Still, a little sunshine wouldn't hurt. This weather sucks.
Go read her - she's witty, brave, and apparently, a masochist.
2. I spent this morning ironing my work clothes, while watching the news.
3. Multitasking a dog walk, an errand, and taking out the garbage into 1 event.
4. Eye cream, and lots of it.
5. My list of "books to buy" is longer than my list of "cosmetics/toiletries to buy."
6. Bringing work home, and actually doing it.
7. Budgets! (grimace)
8. Of my 30-odd former students/trainees, 7 are married, and 4 have had children.
What makes YOU feel old?
I cannot explain this female double standard. It's one of those parts of life that are always true -- much like the idea of women being worse at parallel parking, or men never being able to get their clothes INTO the actual hamper.
I must also admit that while many times I subscribe to this theory of non-practical gifting, I also really LOVE getting what I want. (who doesn't?) If I ask for something unromantic for a birthday, or a holiday, then I'm fully prepared to get it. I wouldn't ask for it otherwise. *
Which is why I found my birthday gift from Sean so perfect -- it's what I wanted, and he found a way to make the money I'd saved to buy it go that much further. Who care's if it's not romantic? It's exactly what I wanted, and that's the sexiest thing about it. Thank you, Sean!
* Note to all men reading this, including Sean: I am not like most women. Before you purchase the utilitarian gift, make ABSOLUTELY CERTAIN that she doesn't want that other gift more, or else? Ouchtown, Sofa City - Population: YOU.
The inevitable next development is going to be one of two things: (a) walking, or (b) he will turn directly from a baby into a sassafras, precocious, maniac like his older sister.
A short recap of the last couple days
- Bonehead developer forgets to file for title insurance! Closing postponed.
- Jamie beats Sean in a heartbreaker on the 18th hole of the Links at Navy Pier. Her 2 point margin of victory is immortalized that very same night with a dismal, overrated display of fireworks.
- Our friends got married in a beautiful ceremony. Reception highlights include me shamelessly quizzing an innocent Welsh wedding guest about her feelings for oft-overlooked homeland, a late-night make-your-own hot dog buffet, comfortable shoes that I didn't have to take off, and getting a beer from the bar wrapped in the leftover custom napkins from a wedding the night prior. Bianca & Fabio Forever!
- Laundry Done. Finally. I love liquid bleach.
- Very cool trip taken to the Museum of Science & Industry to see the Leonardo DaVinci exhibit. Thanks to Sean for snagging tickets on the last day they were available! Bless his little engineer heart. Fun fact: Did you know that DaVinci is not Leonardo's last name? He doesn't technically have one! Who knew?
- Dog picked up at kennel stinking to the high heavens of urine, drool, and dust. Bath was given immediately upon return to apartment, much to his dismay. After drying off, he promptly resumed his normal habits of knocking the trash can over, and sleeping in a basket of dirty laundry.
(in random order, because I can't figure out the chronology for 3 of these)
This photo is an embarassment trifecta for me: it not displays my freshman 15 (thank you, Jack Daniels and Southern Comfort!) and my newfound obsession with blond highlights, but it was also taken at a fraternity party held in the basement of a bar.All greek letters (and my good friend Emily, whose eyes were closed in the photo) have been cropped out. Believe me- it's for the best.
You'll notice that I have yet to figure out how to hide my can't-miss-it-size-of-a-Buick-forehead. I'm still working on that one - in the interim, my nose is hard at work providing a balance.
This photo is one of those rare pictures where my natural hair color is documented for posterity. It's also quite short because after the highlights grew out, I chopped them off and started fresh. The mysterious eyeball is that of my dear friend Adam.
Also of note: I kept this halter to show to my children someday. It's made of plastic. Not pleather -- plastic. Like the stuff they make automobile seat patches out of. I plan on using it as the main prop in the "Don't Dress Like A Slut When You're Not Really Promiscuous at All: It May Get You a Job as Shot Girl, but It's Really Just False Advertising and That Makes Boys Angry."
Welcome to Senior Year - my hair was so long that it ran down my back, well below the shoulderblades. You can't see most of it in this shot, because I have smartly wrestled it into place with a cheap, plastic headband.
Gah - the forehead! What is my problem?!
The last photo is the only existing proof of what remains (to this day) as the haircut that ate Nashville. (a.k.a. the worst haircut I have ever gotten in my entire life) In a flash of momentary insanity, no doubt caused by my dislike for my surroundings, I went into a hair salon THAT WAS LOCATED IN A STRIP MALL and handed the stylist a photo of Neve Campbell's cute, chic, and swingy bob. What I got? What I got was the haircut every other crazy bitch in Tennessee had in 2001 and 2002 -- long pieces of hair in front, short and spiky (!) in the back.
Ok, Blogger won't let me post the damn photo. No, I'm not conveniently making this up so that you won't see the haircut - I can be vain sometimes, but this is not one of those times. I'll keep attempting to add it throughout the day, and if you come back later and see something SO COMPLETELY GOD AWFUL staring you in the face, you'll know what it is.