So my dishwasher seems to be broken. I load it up, shake in the powdered soap, close the door and press Start and it makes all kinds of wooshy promising noises and then in thirty minutes or so it gets quiet and the "Clean" light blinks at me. Which has TRICKED ME several times into thinking that the dishes are clean so I open the dishwasher to find the soap powder only semi-used and dishes with water/soap condensation all over them. It is strange.
According to the manual, the flashing "Clean" light ACTUALLY means "Call someone to come fix it." Instead I have interpreted it as: Try it again. Try it again. Turn off and on the circuit breaker and try it again. Try it again. Start using dishwasher as a dish drying rack.
I will eventually get it fixed I'm sure and it's not a big deal-- not like I can't live without a dishwasher. But I really would like to sit it down and reason with it because of all the appliances I use and abuse the dishwasher has a pretty cushy life. I load it up throughout the week and only run it when it is full. AND I am so persnickety and can't stand to put dishes in the dishwasher that have any food at all on them that I pretty much do a total pre-wash before I put them in there. On the other hand I'll toss ANYTHING into the washer and it has already proven itself to be a touch finicky.
I think what my dishwasher needs is and ATTITUDE ADJUSTMENT.
Thursday, July 15, 2010
Wednesday, July 14, 2010
Sickness and Chico adventures, unrelated (hopefully)
I am sick today. And grumpy.
I am achy and tired and my throat hurts and my head feels... my head feels. Everything. Thinking is bothersome because I can feel it happening.
Anyhow. Can I tell you a little about my weekend trip to Chico?
Jenny and I hit the road on Saturday, after her night of shenanigans with Califmom. We had wanted to do a little shopping in Chico because we always seem to have strangely good luck there so we picked up Stella and went to the mall. The former Gottschalks had been turned into a GIANT Forever 21 which seemed cool at first but was way too overwhelming. We puttered around the mall and ate yummy chocolate peanut butter bar thingies and then decided to go get pedicures.
We found a place that was open (it was lateish-- about 5:30) and sat down for the MOST PAINFUL PEDICURE I'VE EVER GOTTEN IN MY LIFE. I couldn't believe how terrible it was.
Now, people tend to laugh at me when I get pedicures because I'm so ticklish that I end up writhing around in my chair and giggling. This time there was no giggling, but there certainly was WRITHING. He did all the stuff that usually feels great but he made it uncomfortable and painful. He raked salt scrub into my skin and brushed it off with a stiff plastic-bristled brush. He aggressively massaged the lotion on and then he PUNCHED MY FOOT. I got out of there all shaky and sweaty and disoriented. We went back to Stella's house for some much-needed drinkiepies and snacks and an impromptu haircut for Jenny.
We went out. I wore a fantastic hand-me-down dress and lounged in the trunk of a car at 2 am. We danced at club and then danced at a hookah bar. We had FUN.
Later, we stopped by Carl's Junior for a late-night/early-morn snack. We ordered, paid, and sat down to wait for our food. The lady came out and said "Number 36? Number 51?" And we said "over here!" She stared at us and narrowed her eyes. "Did you order, like, chicken fingers and stuff?" "Yes!" we said. She put the tray down in front of us "Are you sure? Because if you steal someone else's food..." she trailed off in an ominous manner. The three of us all at once tried to explain that NO we weren't trying to steal someone else's food, that we had paid for the food, and that here were our little plastic numbers! "Well it happens. Every. Day." she snarked and then huffed away.
So, in conclusion, I always have fun in Chico. Because going out on the town in Chico is REALLY REALLY fun. Even if everything else might suck.
I am achy and tired and my throat hurts and my head feels... my head feels. Everything. Thinking is bothersome because I can feel it happening.
Anyhow. Can I tell you a little about my weekend trip to Chico?
Jenny and I hit the road on Saturday, after her night of shenanigans with Califmom. We had wanted to do a little shopping in Chico because we always seem to have strangely good luck there so we picked up Stella and went to the mall. The former Gottschalks had been turned into a GIANT Forever 21 which seemed cool at first but was way too overwhelming. We puttered around the mall and ate yummy chocolate peanut butter bar thingies and then decided to go get pedicures.
We found a place that was open (it was lateish-- about 5:30) and sat down for the MOST PAINFUL PEDICURE I'VE EVER GOTTEN IN MY LIFE. I couldn't believe how terrible it was.
Now, people tend to laugh at me when I get pedicures because I'm so ticklish that I end up writhing around in my chair and giggling. This time there was no giggling, but there certainly was WRITHING. He did all the stuff that usually feels great but he made it uncomfortable and painful. He raked salt scrub into my skin and brushed it off with a stiff plastic-bristled brush. He aggressively massaged the lotion on and then he PUNCHED MY FOOT. I got out of there all shaky and sweaty and disoriented. We went back to Stella's house for some much-needed drinkiepies and snacks and an impromptu haircut for Jenny.
We went out. I wore a fantastic hand-me-down dress and lounged in the trunk of a car at 2 am. We danced at club and then danced at a hookah bar. We had FUN.
Later, we stopped by Carl's Junior for a late-night/early-morn snack. We ordered, paid, and sat down to wait for our food. The lady came out and said "Number 36? Number 51?" And we said "over here!" She stared at us and narrowed her eyes. "Did you order, like, chicken fingers and stuff?" "Yes!" we said. She put the tray down in front of us "Are you sure? Because if you steal someone else's food..." she trailed off in an ominous manner. The three of us all at once tried to explain that NO we weren't trying to steal someone else's food, that we had paid for the food, and that here were our little plastic numbers! "Well it happens. Every. Day." she snarked and then huffed away.
So, in conclusion, I always have fun in Chico. Because going out on the town in Chico is REALLY REALLY fun. Even if everything else might suck.
Monday, July 12, 2010
The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe
Thanks to online library requests, I accidentally checked out the GIANT "read aloud" version.
Bigger than my head, people.
There's this passive-aggressive note in the book about how even though The Magician's Nephew was written later, it's SUPPOSED to be first so that's how HarperCollins is publishing them. Which, did somebody do a fact-check on that? Because, while *I* certianly don't care what order the individual consumer decides to read to books, I think that my respect for C.S. Lewis might drop down a few rungs if he really MEANT the Magician's Nephew to be read first.
One of the reasons I enjoyed reading the Magician's Nephew so much was that I already KNEW the story of the Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe so it was neat to be like "Oh THAT's the explanation for such and such" or "Oh THAT's where this came from." It was FUN. If you are supposed to read the explanations FIRST, the information isn't surprising and intriguing, it's just information. Like how the new Star Wars movies came out and everybody was all excited at first but if you watch the prequel trilogy first, you miss out on the DRAMA that occurs when (spoiler alert!) Luke finds out Vader is his father. You're supposed to read Graceling and THEN read Fire because then you're all spooked and fascinated. Prequels are neat because we already KNOW what happens later. That's the POINT.
Uh. Anyhow.
That aside, this book was enjoyable. It was quick and fun and lovey I thought I hadn't read it before but now I think maybe I have because I totally remembered the part where Edmund draws spectacles on a stone lion, did that happen in any of the movie representations, is that why I remember it? And I know the witch is horrible and such but I kind of like the name Jadis now, is that crazy?
Also, there is one part where the children are asking the Beaver friends about the White Witch and why she's so bent out of shape about humans because isn't she a human herself? Mr. Beaver explains that she is not a human because she is the daughter of "Adam's first wife, Lilith" and then he just CONTINUES ON WITH HIS STORY and none of children stop him to go "Adam's first wife? Exsqueeze me?" and the plot carries on and adventures ensue and everyone fawns over Aslan and the kids chase him as he frolics through the meadow and they fight exciting battles and there is even a unicorn (!!!) and (spoiler alert!) the kids make it back out of the Wardrobe and whew! But I'm still stuck on Adam's first wife? Exsqueeze me?
There's this passive-aggressive note in the book about how even though The Magician's Nephew was written later, it's SUPPOSED to be first so that's how HarperCollins is publishing them. Which, did somebody do a fact-check on that? Because, while *I* certianly don't care what order the individual consumer decides to read to books, I think that my respect for C.S. Lewis might drop down a few rungs if he really MEANT the Magician's Nephew to be read first.
One of the reasons I enjoyed reading the Magician's Nephew so much was that I already KNEW the story of the Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe so it was neat to be like "Oh THAT's the explanation for such and such" or "Oh THAT's where this came from." It was FUN. If you are supposed to read the explanations FIRST, the information isn't surprising and intriguing, it's just information. Like how the new Star Wars movies came out and everybody was all excited at first but if you watch the prequel trilogy first, you miss out on the DRAMA that occurs when (spoiler alert!) Luke finds out Vader is his father. You're supposed to read Graceling and THEN read Fire because then you're all spooked and fascinated. Prequels are neat because we already KNOW what happens later. That's the POINT.
Uh. Anyhow.
That aside, this book was enjoyable. It was quick and fun and lovey I thought I hadn't read it before but now I think maybe I have because I totally remembered the part where Edmund draws spectacles on a stone lion, did that happen in any of the movie representations, is that why I remember it? And I know the witch is horrible and such but I kind of like the name Jadis now, is that crazy?
Also, there is one part where the children are asking the Beaver friends about the White Witch and why she's so bent out of shape about humans because isn't she a human herself? Mr. Beaver explains that she is not a human because she is the daughter of "Adam's first wife, Lilith" and then he just CONTINUES ON WITH HIS STORY and none of children stop him to go "Adam's first wife? Exsqueeze me?" and the plot carries on and adventures ensue and everyone fawns over Aslan and the kids chase him as he frolics through the meadow and they fight exciting battles and there is even a unicorn (!!!) and (spoiler alert!) the kids make it back out of the Wardrobe and whew! But I'm still stuck on Adam's first wife? Exsqueeze me?
Tuesday, July 6, 2010
18. picnic in the park
So what I had envisioned for a picnic in the park involved me wearing a flowy dress and a big hat, sitting primly on a blanket, nibbling finger sandwiches. Nevermind that I neither sit primly nor nibble but rather slouch and fling food down my gullet.
I think when I wrote "picnic in the park," I really meant "picnic in the 1800s."
But picnic we did. The weather was cold and windy and foggy as San Francisco is wont to be, but we managed to find a spot in Golden Gate Park that was sheltered by a grove of trees (which doubled as a bathroom since there wasn't one nearby).
I had bought a little picnic basket at the Salvation Army for seven dollars, and I was so! excited! to! use! it!
Hot dogs, potato salad, macaroni salad, Doritos, grapes, and french bread with cheese spread. Happy 4th, indeed!
See those red plates and cups? They came IN the picnic basket, still in their wrappers.
The boys played football while I ate the leftover kept birds away from the food. I played, too, actually. I can throw all right, but catching would probably be easier if I weren't such a cliche afraid-of-the-ball sissy.
Not sure why I am making that weird face. My guess is that I am in some kind of cheesy bread trance.
The picnic was fun, even if I didn't get to stroll amongst the flowers twirling my parasol.
I think when I wrote "picnic in the park," I really meant "picnic in the 1800s."
But picnic we did. The weather was cold and windy and foggy as San Francisco is wont to be, but we managed to find a spot in Golden Gate Park that was sheltered by a grove of trees (which doubled as a bathroom since there wasn't one nearby).
I had bought a little picnic basket at the Salvation Army for seven dollars, and I was so! excited! to! use! it!
The picnic was fun, even if I didn't get to stroll amongst the flowers twirling my parasol.
Thursday, July 1, 2010
Sometimes
Sometimes the world feels like a bleak and dismal place.
Today I saw an very old and bent woman trying to cross the street. She had a little cart in front of her and one of those long white canes with the red tip-- you know, for blind or visually impaired people. I was at the opposite corner, in my car, making a left-hand turn. She was trying to walk across the street and I could tell she had gotten confused about which way she was going because she was tapping her cane on both sides of the curb and stepping in and out of the street and meanwhile the cars coming toward her had a green light. I couldn't do anything, I was in my car praying that someone closer to her would notice her and help her. Finally, just as a big black SUV came barreling toward her through the intersection, a young woman pulled her out of the street. And I was SO RELIEVED. But I was also irritated-- because WTF, SUV? I know that San Francisco in general and that neighborhood in particular is a place with jaywalkers aplenty but you and I both know that there is a big difference between 'Joe I'vegottabesomewhereinahurry' and the LITTLE OLD BLIND WOMAN crossing the street. So how about CALMING THE FUCK DOWN AND HITTING THE BREAKS?!
And then the other day I heard about a patient who had been tricked by a young man into signing away a bunch of her money and property to him and but he was never prosecuted because she died.
I remember also when I was working at a senior center and somebody STOLE a bunch of stuff from the computer room and I was like, seriously? You're stealing from a nonprofit senior center?
And I remember a couple years ago there was a video on the news about a young man who mugged an old woman. He punched her in the face and knocked her over, her walker fell on top of her. He stole her purse which had, like, seven dollars inside it.
Sometimes it is incredibly hard to walk into a nursing home and see people in their dim rooms with feeding tubes, skinny limbs, pressure sores, lying semi-conscious for days or weeks or years.
It is so difficult to watch the decline of Alzheimer's disease-- the confusion, the frustration, the loss. Or people who had sudden strokes. One day they were fine, and the next they can't remember how to speak.
It hurts to see people who were once whole and happy and well become sick and suffering. It breaks my heart to see people suffer. And there is so much suffering.
Cancer. Dementia. Cancer. Dementia. Arthritis. Heart disease. Stroke. Kidney failure. Parkinson's. Cancer. Dementia.
Depression. Loneliness.
Pain.
Sometimes I feel like I want to just lay down and go to sleep and pretend I don't see or hear all the pain.
And sometimes there are other stories. Other people.
One of the patients I saw the other day was a very old woman with severe dementia. She has a caregiver who lives with her and provides all of her care, including feeding, bathing, toileting, and dressing. The caregiver takes the woman outdoors whenever the weather is nice, brings her to church, invites her own family over, and plays music for her. The caregiver is paid a small stipend by the church because the woman doesn't have any family.
When I met her the caregiver was cheerful and bubbly. She has been caring for the woman for about 5 years and is going to continue for the rest of the woman's life.
I examined the woman on my visit and noted that she was impeccably well cared for. Her clothes were fresh and her mouth was clean and even her feet were moisturized with neatly trimmed toenails.
The woman had no bedsores-- because the caregiver sleeps on a mat on the floor in the woman's room and gets up every hour to turn her. Every hour.
Sometimes, all it takes is one person like this to remind me why I keep doing this.
I can't cure the world or end suffering, but I can keep learning and working and trying and helping and caring. And maybe I can make a difference in someone's life.
Today I saw an very old and bent woman trying to cross the street. She had a little cart in front of her and one of those long white canes with the red tip-- you know, for blind or visually impaired people. I was at the opposite corner, in my car, making a left-hand turn. She was trying to walk across the street and I could tell she had gotten confused about which way she was going because she was tapping her cane on both sides of the curb and stepping in and out of the street and meanwhile the cars coming toward her had a green light. I couldn't do anything, I was in my car praying that someone closer to her would notice her and help her. Finally, just as a big black SUV came barreling toward her through the intersection, a young woman pulled her out of the street. And I was SO RELIEVED. But I was also irritated-- because WTF, SUV? I know that San Francisco in general and that neighborhood in particular is a place with jaywalkers aplenty but you and I both know that there is a big difference between 'Joe I'vegottabesomewhereinahurry' and the LITTLE OLD BLIND WOMAN crossing the street. So how about CALMING THE FUCK DOWN AND HITTING THE BREAKS?!
And then the other day I heard about a patient who had been tricked by a young man into signing away a bunch of her money and property to him and but he was never prosecuted because she died.
I remember also when I was working at a senior center and somebody STOLE a bunch of stuff from the computer room and I was like, seriously? You're stealing from a nonprofit senior center?
And I remember a couple years ago there was a video on the news about a young man who mugged an old woman. He punched her in the face and knocked her over, her walker fell on top of her. He stole her purse which had, like, seven dollars inside it.
Sometimes it is incredibly hard to walk into a nursing home and see people in their dim rooms with feeding tubes, skinny limbs, pressure sores, lying semi-conscious for days or weeks or years.
It is so difficult to watch the decline of Alzheimer's disease-- the confusion, the frustration, the loss. Or people who had sudden strokes. One day they were fine, and the next they can't remember how to speak.
It hurts to see people who were once whole and happy and well become sick and suffering. It breaks my heart to see people suffer. And there is so much suffering.
Cancer. Dementia. Cancer. Dementia. Arthritis. Heart disease. Stroke. Kidney failure. Parkinson's. Cancer. Dementia.
Depression. Loneliness.
Pain.
Sometimes I feel like I want to just lay down and go to sleep and pretend I don't see or hear all the pain.
And sometimes there are other stories. Other people.
One of the patients I saw the other day was a very old woman with severe dementia. She has a caregiver who lives with her and provides all of her care, including feeding, bathing, toileting, and dressing. The caregiver takes the woman outdoors whenever the weather is nice, brings her to church, invites her own family over, and plays music for her. The caregiver is paid a small stipend by the church because the woman doesn't have any family.
When I met her the caregiver was cheerful and bubbly. She has been caring for the woman for about 5 years and is going to continue for the rest of the woman's life.
I examined the woman on my visit and noted that she was impeccably well cared for. Her clothes were fresh and her mouth was clean and even her feet were moisturized with neatly trimmed toenails.
The woman had no bedsores-- because the caregiver sleeps on a mat on the floor in the woman's room and gets up every hour to turn her. Every hour.
Sometimes, all it takes is one person like this to remind me why I keep doing this.
I can't cure the world or end suffering, but I can keep learning and working and trying and helping and caring. And maybe I can make a difference in someone's life.
Wednesday, June 30, 2010
Tuesday, June 29, 2010
72. follow a rainbow
One of the things I particularly like about my Life List is that I purposely made it so that some of the items can be loosely interpreted. Like number 76: soar. I thought about putting parasailing or hang gliding or skydiving specifically but then I just decided to just put "soar" because then I could try ANY of those or another flying/gliding/wooshing something. When I wrote my list I actually hadn't heard of THIS which is apparently what soaring actually IS but... I'm not too keen on the idea of flying in a plane with no engine?
So the take-home point here is this: my life list is open for interpretation.
With that in mind, take a look at some of my photos from the past two weekends and YOU TELL ME if you think I have sufficiently followed a rainbow.
I'm thinking: yes.
(Also OH HAI I live in the Bay Area. Is it that obvious?)
So the take-home point here is this: my life list is open for interpretation.
With that in mind, take a look at some of my photos from the past two weekends and YOU TELL ME if you think I have sufficiently followed a rainbow.
(Also OH HAI I live in the Bay Area. Is it that obvious?)
Go get them!
Every couple of years I start thinking about how lovely it would be to get another kitten/cat. I've held myself back, for the most part. Okay, that's a lie. The first time my roommate at the time told me I couldn't get another cat and the second time I actually did get a kitten but she turned out to be kind of insane and I thought I might be allergic to her so I passed her off to my sister and her kids and now she lives at my parents' house and just last Saturday she caught a rat, a mouse, and a lizard. And the week before my mom found a bunny in the yard, in pieces. So I've pretty much decided that one high-maintenance cat is plenty, for now.
Anyhow. I went to the animal shelter on Sunday, just to LOOK (because we all know what a great idea that is, right?). And, OMG, there was the sweetest dog there. She was this blind pug with her tongue perpetually drooping out of the side of her mouth and I just wanted to scoop her up and take her home with me.
And then there were these....
I think they want to come home with you.
Anyhow. I went to the animal shelter on Sunday, just to LOOK (because we all know what a great idea that is, right?). And, OMG, there was the sweetest dog there. She was this blind pug with her tongue perpetually drooping out of the side of her mouth and I just wanted to scoop her up and take her home with me.
And then there were these....
Friday, June 25, 2010
Opinion for which I have no real base
To preface this:
I know that I am a lower-on-the-totem-pole blogger. I am certain that I have written about things that other people would put in their own TMI cagegory. I also have no children. I am very aware that my viewpoints have their limitations. So please take what I am about to say with a grain of salt.
Okay, with that out of the way I'm going to climb way up onto my high horse and give some UNSOLICITED OPINIONS! Here they are:
It bothers me when people write things about their kids that would have embarrassed me at that age. Particularly tweens and teens. And PARTICULARLY when the subjects include first periods, body hair growth, or emotional anguish. Even stories that seem innocuous can make me cringe because, you know what? EVERYTHING was embarrassing at that age. Everything. I would have died if I was 13 and had found out my mom had written a blog and a bunch of strangers and/or friends had read about some door-slammy fight I had with my sister. DIED.
And if any of the kids at my school had read stuff about me? It would have been an invasion of privacy propagated by my OWN MOTHER. The version of myself I carefully chose to show to the world outside my home would have been undermined by an internet personification.
I think that if your kid is old enough to understand what you are doing then you need to ask his or her permission to write about him or her on your blog. And I think that EVEN IF your kid says it is okay you STILL need to really search deeply and think hard about it and examine what you are doing because YOU are the responsible adult, not them. It is your job, not theirs, to know what is safe for you to post about your family and what could be potentially harmful, however innocent it may seem. Because the emotional wounds of the young teenage years are not easily healed. I think we all know THAT, right?
I know that I am a lower-on-the-totem-pole blogger. I am certain that I have written about things that other people would put in their own TMI cagegory. I also have no children. I am very aware that my viewpoints have their limitations. So please take what I am about to say with a grain of salt.
Okay, with that out of the way I'm going to climb way up onto my high horse and give some UNSOLICITED OPINIONS! Here they are:
It bothers me when people write things about their kids that would have embarrassed me at that age. Particularly tweens and teens. And PARTICULARLY when the subjects include first periods, body hair growth, or emotional anguish. Even stories that seem innocuous can make me cringe because, you know what? EVERYTHING was embarrassing at that age. Everything. I would have died if I was 13 and had found out my mom had written a blog and a bunch of strangers and/or friends had read about some door-slammy fight I had with my sister. DIED.
And if any of the kids at my school had read stuff about me? It would have been an invasion of privacy propagated by my OWN MOTHER. The version of myself I carefully chose to show to the world outside my home would have been undermined by an internet personification.
I think that if your kid is old enough to understand what you are doing then you need to ask his or her permission to write about him or her on your blog. And I think that EVEN IF your kid says it is okay you STILL need to really search deeply and think hard about it and examine what you are doing because YOU are the responsible adult, not them. It is your job, not theirs, to know what is safe for you to post about your family and what could be potentially harmful, however innocent it may seem. Because the emotional wounds of the young teenage years are not easily healed. I think we all know THAT, right?
Called it.
Oh man, you guys. You may or may not recall that I wrote a ranty post back in November about how in New Moon Bella was wearing a moonstone ring on her index finger and I was irritated by this because I have been wearing a moonstone ring on MY index finger for six or so years and I thought it might turn into, like, a "Twilight Thing."
Well. LOOK WHAT I FOUND AT THE MALL TODAY.
I knew it. I knew it! I knew something like this would happen. Dammit. At least mine is real moonstone and not "moonstone." But still. I am not pleased.
Well. LOOK WHAT I FOUND AT THE MALL TODAY.
Thursday, June 24, 2010
SENSITIVE? ME?
Step into my office, will you? You'll have to imagine me saying this with big, wide eyes and an eerie, shaky voice that makes you think you're not sure what's about to happen. Am I about to be buried alive? you might wonder.
My birthday is next month. And so it's around this time of year that I think about my life and goals and whatnot. Birthdays are important to me both in terms of partying my socks off and in terms of life achievements. Maybe that's silly, but I never claimed to be otherwise.
Anyhow, my last two birthdays have been sort of, well.... Let's review, SHALL WE?
26- Asshat broke up with me via text message.
27- Spent the evening sobbing alone in my old bedroom at my parents' house. Asshat (we were back together) was down in LA, presumably cheating on me and doing his drug(s?) of choice. And to top it off my entire family was mad at me because they didn't like my tattoo.
In fact I do believe I have a photo that photo accurately depicts both years.
Yep. I'd say that as long as I manage to keep all of my limbs, this birthday will probably wildly surpass the past two years.'
However, that doesn't mean that it is perfect. I can feel many things at once (but we knew that, right? Because I HAVE A LOT OF FEELINGS).
I can be excited about my upcoming birthday and also sort of wish I didn't have to turn 28 yet.
I can be happy and satisfied with my life right now and also be slightly confused and disappointed that it hasn't gone the way I used to expect that it would.
So, yes, maybe I'm just a touch sensitive about my birthday this year. I'm kind of a snarky bitch and I guess you could say that there are some subjects, including this one, that fall into the category of: Take it, Cannot (see also: Dish it Out, Can Only).
My birthday is next month. And so it's around this time of year that I think about my life and goals and whatnot. Birthdays are important to me both in terms of partying my socks off and in terms of life achievements. Maybe that's silly, but I never claimed to be otherwise.
Anyhow, my last two birthdays have been sort of, well.... Let's review, SHALL WE?
26- Asshat broke up with me via text message.
27- Spent the evening sobbing alone in my old bedroom at my parents' house. Asshat (we were back together) was down in LA, presumably cheating on me and doing his drug(s?) of choice. And to top it off my entire family was mad at me because they didn't like my tattoo.
In fact I do believe I have a photo that photo accurately depicts both years.
Yep. I'd say that as long as I manage to keep all of my limbs, this birthday will probably wildly surpass the past two years.'
However, that doesn't mean that it is perfect. I can feel many things at once (but we knew that, right? Because I HAVE A LOT OF FEELINGS).
I can be excited about my upcoming birthday and also sort of wish I didn't have to turn 28 yet.
I can be happy and satisfied with my life right now and also be slightly confused and disappointed that it hasn't gone the way I used to expect that it would.
So, yes, maybe I'm just a touch sensitive about my birthday this year. I'm kind of a snarky bitch and I guess you could say that there are some subjects, including this one, that fall into the category of: Take it, Cannot (see also: Dish it Out, Can Only).
Wednesday, June 23, 2010
Loopholes
Paying to check a bag: I like to check my bag. I know it's annoying to stand in the longer line and there's always that gamble of whether or not your bag will ACTUALLY be there to meet you on the other side. But I hate maneuvering onto the plane with a biggish bag and I hate fighting people for overhead bin space. Also, this one time I hoisted my mini suitcase up to try and stow it into the bin and it was ever so slightly too big. I nearly had a panic attack as I tried to grapple and shove the bag into the bin with the increasingly impatient LINE OF PEOPLE waiting behind me to get on the plane. Fortunately the flight attendant came to my rescue saying "the bins on this plane are slightly smaller than most, I'll find a space for this." OMG hugegiantsighofrelief.
Anyhow. If you, like me, like to check your bag and if you, like me, hate paying fees for it, try this: Pack all your stuff into a little carry-on sized bag. Go through security. Go to your gate. If the flight is mostly full they will likely run out of bin space and start making announcements BEGGING people to check their bags. So you will not only avoid the $20ish fee but they will actually thank you for checking your bag. I've done this on both Virgin America and Jetblue. Maybe it sounds like more trouble than it is worth but it is worth it to me.
Forever 21 returns: You know how if you buy something at Forever 21, you only get 21 days to exchange it? Well if there isn't anything you want to buy the day you go back to exchange your item, have them put the credit on a gift card. Not as good as getting your money back but doesn't expire so you can forget about the 21 day window.
Okay, that's all I got. What loopholes do you know?
Anyhow. If you, like me, like to check your bag and if you, like me, hate paying fees for it, try this: Pack all your stuff into a little carry-on sized bag. Go through security. Go to your gate. If the flight is mostly full they will likely run out of bin space and start making announcements BEGGING people to check their bags. So you will not only avoid the $20ish fee but they will actually thank you for checking your bag. I've done this on both Virgin America and Jetblue. Maybe it sounds like more trouble than it is worth but it is worth it to me.
Forever 21 returns: You know how if you buy something at Forever 21, you only get 21 days to exchange it? Well if there isn't anything you want to buy the day you go back to exchange your item, have them put the credit on a gift card. Not as good as getting your money back but doesn't expire so you can forget about the 21 day window.
Okay, that's all I got. What loopholes do you know?
Wednesday, June 16, 2010
Packing List
I'm going away for the weekend. Hmm, how can I describe this trip to you?
I'm going to be camping and it is kind of Burning Man-esque and hippieish and naturey. And there will be dress up costume parties but there are also going to be regular daytime hours of swimming and hanging out and whatnot. The whole weekend has an ocean theme so any and everything you do/wear/say can or should have something to do with the ocean-- sea creatures, pirates, Neptune, luau, sailors, etc. And the temp is going to be in the 80s during the day and the 40s at night.
Here is the packing list I received:
lounge/ comfy clothes for during the day
warm coat/clothes for nighttime
sleeping bag/sleeping pad
utensils (plate, cup, fork, spoon, coffee mug)
sunglasses/hat
alcohol (your choice of what you will want to drink throughout the weekend), mixer, energy drinks
snacks (breakfast and dinner provided)
advil
ICE- pick this up in town before you get to the campsite
anything hawaiian/tiki bar theme
sunscreen
towel
water bottle
chairs to sit at our camp site
flashlight
camera
pillow
Clothes/accessories/jewelry that you don’t want any more for the swap
Talent for the talent show
shower stuff? there are showers but i think they are cold, you dont HAVE to shower
bathing suit or just go naked for a swim!
COSTUMES especially for nights
glitter
glitter
I am also bringing baby wipes, bug repellent, and a book. I feel like I might be forgetting something. Any recommendations or things YOU like to bring camping or on vacation or to a costume party?
Monday, June 14, 2010
Random Photos with Explanations
This? This is what happens when your doctor proposes the concept of reinfecting yourself with Poison Oak and then you wear a skirt and new red bumps appear on your upper thigh and so instead of tearing your hair out you decide it might be best to set fire to wash all of your clothes.
Yeah, Regina Leeds, I know I know I'm supposed to be zenning my laundry area. LA LA LA I CAN'T HEAR YOU.
I bribed Gabey with a cookie to take a photo with me.
My goodness he's just brown as a little berry isn't he? In contrast, I am white as a SHEET.
And then he tried to go hang out in my bedroom.
"I don't want you to touch my bed with your strawberry hands."
"I don't have strawberry hands."
"What did you just eat?"
"A strawberry."
"So...."
And then he showed us how he could eat the strawberries no-handedly:
You can't tell, but that cutting board is resting on Miss Grace's belly.
Tonight I decided to serve myself some yogurt as my post-workout pre-dinner snack. Then I got out the sour cream because I was going to put some on my dinner. And then I ate a big spoonful of yogurt. And then I was grossed out because it didn't taste like sour cream like I was expecting it to. And then I wondered WHY ON EARTH I thought I was taking a eating a big spoonful of sour cream?
I bought cherries. I like to call them cheeries. Because they bring me cheer. And also I once saw a misspelled sign for them.
You know what I find incredibly relaxing and zen and therapeutic? Staying home for the evening, putting on some background noise like an old sitcom on DVD and making a big pot of soup, preferably with lots of ingredients that need to simmer for a long time.
It started during the fall when I was all stressed out and riddled with anxiety and it was just a nice way to pass the time and help myself relax for the evening.
Well I think that is all I have to tell you about right now. I don't seem to have anything that will tie all of this neatly together so how about a gratuitous hat photo? Check out the shadow.
I bribed Gabey with a cookie to take a photo with me.
And then he tried to go hang out in my bedroom.
"I don't want you to touch my bed with your strawberry hands."
"I don't have strawberry hands."
"What did you just eat?"
"A strawberry."
"So...."
And then he showed us how he could eat the strawberries no-handedly:
Tonight I decided to serve myself some yogurt as my post-workout pre-dinner snack. Then I got out the sour cream because I was going to put some on my dinner. And then I ate a big spoonful of yogurt. And then I was grossed out because it didn't taste like sour cream like I was expecting it to. And then I wondered WHY ON EARTH I thought I was taking a eating a big spoonful of sour cream?
I bought cherries. I like to call them cheeries. Because they bring me cheer. And also I once saw a misspelled sign for them.
You know what I find incredibly relaxing and zen and therapeutic? Staying home for the evening, putting on some background noise like an old sitcom on DVD and making a big pot of soup, preferably with lots of ingredients that need to simmer for a long time.
Well I think that is all I have to tell you about right now. I don't seem to have anything that will tie all of this neatly together so how about a gratuitous hat photo? Check out the shadow.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)