A quest to make sense of it all. Or a sense to make a quest of it all.

Friday, January 26, 2007

Finally got stuff moved into the new duplex. I'm so incredibly happy to know that tomorrow night, I will be sleeping in my own place again.

I've worked 12 hour shifts the past two days, had no time to go to the gym, no time to tan, no time to eat anything remotely healthy. However, I'm only working 35 hours next week (so far...), so I should have plenty of time to catch up.

Tomorow I'm gonna actually start looking at dates/prices for a trip Brandon and I (and perhaps Tamara) are going to take in a few months. We've decided on Virginia, and that Brandon has to wear white linen capri pants and a sunhat at the beach, but that's about as far as we've gotten.

Wednesday, January 24, 2007

WHY am I so tired? I'd better get over it. Still gotta go to the gym.

I only ended up working two and a half hours yesterday. I was specifically scheduled yesterday because our DM was supposed to come and audit. She called and said she isn't coming until Friday. So boss lady rearranged my hours so that I only worked briefly yesterday, and am working open-close on Friday.

Which I don't mind. In fact, I rather enjoy audit days. Does that make me a freak?

Ok... the "former" tneants of my new duplex still haven't got all their crap out. They technically have until the end of the month because they paid a full month's rent, but they told the landlady that they would be out by this past Monday. They scheduled their read-off dates for water&utilities for Monday, so Luke and I got up all chipper Monday morning, paid the deposits, and took a few things to the duplex. Only we couldn't move it into the new place because the same old stuff is there that was there when I first went in to look at it. So... landlady is on vacation, thinking all is well, and I really don't want to call her, but I'll have to if they're not out today. There's the slim possibility that they're just abandoning the stuff, but who would abandon a table&chairs, a huge mahogany mirrored dresser, a shop-vac, and a nearly full bottle of Captain Morgan's? I WANT TO MOVE IN. 3 DAYS AGO.

Tuesday, January 23, 2007

Phoenix - Too young

Yes, I'm a dirty band thief. But it occured to me that if I post this video on my blog, I don't have to go to youtube just to watch it.

More to follow, I'm sure.

Sunday, January 21, 2007

I think that if I did not so carefully guard against it, I could easily become a compulsive swallower. I've always felt challenged to swallow certain items, and was once rushed to the Navy base emergency room by my panicked parents because I had earlier swallowed $0.36. In between watching Tamara shake her groove thing and taking bites of my dinner, I'm watching Maria Full of Grace. For those who may not know, it's about a Colombian chick who smuggles heroin into the U.S. by swallowing bullet-shaped packets of it. There's a scene where she's practicing with grapes and I caught myself thinking, "That's nothing." Because I do find myself often swallowing things whole, like grapes, mushrooms, hard candy, brussels sprouts, etc. I have no desire to be a drug mule, but if it ever came to pass that I had to be, I'm so down with the swallowing. (Which is completely contradictory to my intense fear of choking.) So I think I'm already compulsive, just not problematic. I don't want to swallow light bulbs or anything.

Someone share something so I don't feel so crazy.
It's confession time:

I think I'm missing some feminine gene that enables other women to coo at every small child in sight, regardless of behavior. I rarely coo. And then it's usually only children of good friends (hypothetically, since none of my good friends have children) and the occasional infant. Don't get me wrong, I like kids; I like quiet, introspective kids with glasses and bug books. I'm just uncomfortable with small children, despite their total comfort with me. It's kind of like how cats will instinctively head straight for the lap of the one person in the room who dislikes cats. And I can't even fake it all that well. We frequently get pint-sized terrors in the store. A little girl who takes one purse down and totes it around and then puts it away is kinda cute. A little girl who takes down eight purses, turns all the shoes around backwards, knocks over a jewelry display, and tries on all the bras... well, I don't think I'm cruel in thinking that this child should be kept in a crate in the car while mom shops. Or better yet, be exposed to some freakin' parenting. But while this is going on, the other customers are smiling and chuckling and saying things like," She's just precious". I'm standing there, stony-faced, thinking of all the things I'd like to say to the "mother" and I glance around, to find that more often than not, my coworkers are smiling, too. I force a smile and a little laugh, as if I don't mind the fact that I'm going to have to stop what I'm doing for a half an hour to pick up after precious lil' demon, because her mom will inevitably strip her of all the accessories and bras, drape them over a clearance rack, and walk out after she (mom) has made a purchase too small to justify either her kid's behavior or her own (thanks for leaving all those clothes in the fitting room floor, bitchcow. Looking forward to pickin' them up, too). Are other women just inherently nicer than me? Am I low on some hormone? It would be better for my blood pressure if I could just smile when I see a toddler trashing my store and ignore it until it's gone. Are all these other women faking it? Or do they genuinely think this is adorable?

Maybe having your own kids, or at least knowing a lot of kids, is the key. I don't know many kids. My old pastor has kids that I like. They're two quiet, sweet little girls in matching velvet dresses. They hug me and I don't mind at all. I like Josh and Tiffany's kids (Josh the park ranger). Their little boy was the ring bearer at my wedding, and their daughter was the flower girl. No problem here. Also children whose affection I don't mind. I like the kids of my coworkers. So it's not just kids in general that make me want to set bear-traps throughout the store.

I just don't have the ability to instantly go ga-ga over every kid. I hope that doesn't make me less of a woman.

Saturday, January 20, 2007

Last night I had a dream. (That wasn't meant to sound so Raising Arizona but, if you like, you may start humming Beethoven's 9th here )

I was with Brandon and someone else, I think Jessica. We were in on the outskirts of a city which we thought was Memphis. We had Brandon's new pekapoo puppy with us, and he was too busy baby-talking her to help us figure out where we were. We were getting closer to the city and I was getting increasingly nervous about not knowing where to go, or even what our mission was. It occured to me to call Tamara to get Lindsey's phone number and maybe she could help us, since I was pretty sure we were indeed in Memphis (there were no signs anywhere). So I started dialing as we came to stop at a red light. While dialing, I noticed a man walking a lion behind our car. In the dream, this wasn't perceived as unusual. The man turned the lion around and started walking him along the side of the car, toward me. I looked over at Brandon and said, "This lion has huge paws" right as the lion reached his paw into the window and took a swipe at my shoulder. Right then, I reached Tamara's voicemail. I was still trying to act tough and laugh off the pain from the lion's scratching me, and I left a message asking her to please call us back. Brandon burst out laughing and said, "She's not calling back. She's lost her mind." He apparently thought this was hilarious and began laughing hysterically. He leaned out of his window, teen-movie style, wooo-hooing and laughing. So I was trying to drive through this unfamiliar city, repeatedly calling Tamara and getting voicemail, and Brandon was laughing like some crazy person. Suddenly he sat down and got quiet. I decided to call Luke (I don't know why he wasn't on this trip in the first place). I got him and he gave me directions to some friend's house. We got there and the friend, a guy, was watching porn (hetero) and making counterfeit $100 bills. The house smelled like fried chicken and I was getting nauseous. The whole situation felt really nasty and the tv kept getting bigger every time I looked at it, and the uh, action on the screen was getting more lewd. I was shaking my head and saying, "No, this isn't right. I've gotta get hold of Tamara and Lindsey." We ran out and got back in the car and drove to a mall. (?) We were walking toward the entrance and I suddenly had all these dogs on leashes. My mom's poodle, Brandon's puppy, my dad's border collie, and a couple of newcomers. They were all trying to run in different directions. Then this huge german shephard jumped out of nowhere and started attacking the little dogs. I had to get these dogs separated. Brandon and Jessica were just standing there, watching me. Down the street, the man with the lion was heading my way. Finally, Jessica said, "You can put the big one in my Monte Carlo, just make sure the window is down so he can pee." This made sense to me, and so did her car magically being in the next parking space, so I got the big dog in the car and concentrated on getting the small dogs in someone's jeep. Of course, they kept running out. I started crying, gave up, and headed toward the entrance of the mall. Where I ran into a very drunk Tamara and Lindsey. I told them my plight, and they were all, "We'll get you there! We know the way" and beckoning me down this alley behind the mall. I never made it down the alley because the lion jumped on me and I woke up.


In other news, I'm getting a tonna hours next week, courtesy of the girl who's getting fired.

Friday, January 12, 2007

So the living-with-the parents thing got really old, really quick. Not to say that it's been unpleasant. It's just time to go, before things get unpleasant. Mild squabbles over parking and my staying up late are increasing. So I got a duplex, and I do say "I", because I looked, I walked through, and I gave the fake enthusiastic smile to several apartments/potential landlords before finding the right one. Once I found one that I deemed suitable, I brought Luke to it, where he gave a nod of approval. Then he saw the kitchen and his head almost exploded, in the good way.
This duplex is unfrickinbelieveable for the price. Hardwood floors, new flooring in the kitchen and both bathrooms, huge cedar-lined closets, separate utility room, tons of storage space, a bedroom half the size of a Cato store, and a screened in front porch. I even have shrubbery!

A call to the animal shelter has eased my mind about Lebowski. He was adopted just a couple days after I brought him there. The guy wasn't specific, just that it was a nice family. I hope
(1) that he doesn't say that to everyone, and (2) that "nice family" doesn't include toddlers who pull tails.

I unfortunately cannot have pets in my new palace. Sorry Giada.
(Giada being, of course, Brandon's new pekapoo puppy.)