What is up with guys keeping their eyes closed while hooking up? I mean during the actual kissing part its okay, almost expected, but when you break apart open your eyes. I'm very attractive!
I mean granted he MAY be trying to picture me naked, but still the real thing is better. Not that My Crush would know that yet. I was very well behaved last night.
Our second date took place on his turf, Allston. It is a bitch of a city with really tight parking and lots and lots of loud and annoying people, and the college kids aren't really around yet. After a nice meal of Mexican and sangria, we headed back to his apartment. The meal was nice, just a mini-freak out when the conversation started to lag. He was putting in NO effort, but lucky for me the sangria significantly loosened my tongue and I was able to babble about anything.
His apartment was nice. It looks like a guy's apartment should look. It was refreshing after living in the den of eccentricities. I could tell he wanted to make a move. I was fascinated by the whole process. The leaning in to make the shoulders touch, the brushing of the hands. It was like watching a nature program. I guess I was being slightly bratty about not helping him out much. I responded to what he did do, but didn't really give him much to work with. The best was when I got up to use the bathroom and upon my return I noticed that when he heard me he stretched both his arms along the back of the couch and when I sat next to him he dropped one down on me. It was sweet and hilarious at the same time. Much more creative than the yawn and stretch.
The stages progressed to the arm over the shoulder, to the half cuddling and finally to the laying down cuddling. The first kiss was nice, but the keeping the eyes closed afterwards bugged me. Its not just My Crush either, D would do the same thing, like he was in some weird zen trance. Very odd. I'll work through it. Either that or flick him when he doesn't open his eyes. Aversion therapy is worth a try.
That is my one complaint though. Over-all date number two gets and 8. Oh never mind, it gets a 6. I had a $40 parking ticket on my car when I finally left to sleep in my own bed.
Like a good girl, I left him wanting more.
Friday, August 11, 2006
Why I Actually DO Like My Job
I just witnessed a 5 year old sing Desperado by the Eagles, in its entirety.
It seriously made me laugh till my face hurt.
Too cute for words. The job had some perks.
It seriously made me laugh till my face hurt.
Too cute for words. The job had some perks.
Thursday, August 10, 2006
Google Outlawed
Google should be out lawed for people over 50 and/or nosy mothers. Mainly I believe this because my mother fall into both categories.
I just received an email from my mother with the subject heading of "picture." In the body of the email she writes something to the effect that she was doing research and attaches a link. I know the link, I have been there before.
Its a link to a picture of My Crush. I curse the day I ever told my mother his name.
Of course I have already seen it having googled him the first day I figured out I was crushing on him. Its what insanely bored females, who have crushes on guys they figure will amount to nothing, do.
I'm seeing him tonight. He called last night and we made plans after a short conversation. I don't know exactly what we're doing yet. I can't decide if I like this phase of dating. Whereas it it very exciting and new, it is also gut-wrenchingly nerve wracking. Part of me is enjoying it, but the other part of me wants to throw up and yearns for some comfortableness.
Both parts want me to stop yapping like and idiot on the phone during our conversations too! That stems from the nervousness.
That phase needs to go!
I just received an email from my mother with the subject heading of "picture." In the body of the email she writes something to the effect that she was doing research and attaches a link. I know the link, I have been there before.
Its a link to a picture of My Crush. I curse the day I ever told my mother his name.
Of course I have already seen it having googled him the first day I figured out I was crushing on him. Its what insanely bored females, who have crushes on guys they figure will amount to nothing, do.
I'm seeing him tonight. He called last night and we made plans after a short conversation. I don't know exactly what we're doing yet. I can't decide if I like this phase of dating. Whereas it it very exciting and new, it is also gut-wrenchingly nerve wracking. Part of me is enjoying it, but the other part of me wants to throw up and yearns for some comfortableness.
Both parts want me to stop yapping like and idiot on the phone during our conversations too! That stems from the nervousness.
That phase needs to go!
Wednesday, August 09, 2006
The Fifth Roommate
He made his appearance last night. He just sat there unmoving, unphased and very unappologetic, like we were infringing on his turf. His presence changed the mood of the room, from lethargic to electrified.
I came down the stairs quickly, my bare feet slapping on the blonde wood. I didn't notice him at first, but he made no motion to be seen. I finally caught his movement out of the corner of my eye before facing him head on, not ready to make his acquaintance. At first I didn't register him, not expecting him to be there, I was quite surprised. I rudely gestured with my finger yelling accusingly at my other roommates in the room for not noticing him sooner.
I waved my finger around pointing at the offending visitor before I could spit out the words.
"OH MY GOD! That is a mouse!"
He didn't care about my distress or my refusal to continue down the last two steps. He just sat there calmly watching the Red Sox/Royals game as if he did that every night. For all we knew that could be his nightly routine. He didn't scurry or run away to hide in a secret crevice and tell his mousy friends about the crazy girl perched on the steps pointing wildly at him and to laugh over her sputtering.
"Do Something J! I'm NOT leaving this step!"
J walks by him and into the kitchen. He takes a tupperware container and places it over the intruder. The dilemma is about what to do now? I'm instructed to hold the tupperware down while we figure out how to get him to stay enclosed. Finally we manage to slip the dust pan underneath the container and I hear a faint squeaking as his tail slips out. J brings him out side and to the dumpster across the street.
I momentarily feel bad, he was only a tiny little thing, but four roommates is enough, thank you very much.
I came down the stairs quickly, my bare feet slapping on the blonde wood. I didn't notice him at first, but he made no motion to be seen. I finally caught his movement out of the corner of my eye before facing him head on, not ready to make his acquaintance. At first I didn't register him, not expecting him to be there, I was quite surprised. I rudely gestured with my finger yelling accusingly at my other roommates in the room for not noticing him sooner.
I waved my finger around pointing at the offending visitor before I could spit out the words.
"OH MY GOD! That is a mouse!"
He didn't care about my distress or my refusal to continue down the last two steps. He just sat there calmly watching the Red Sox/Royals game as if he did that every night. For all we knew that could be his nightly routine. He didn't scurry or run away to hide in a secret crevice and tell his mousy friends about the crazy girl perched on the steps pointing wildly at him and to laugh over her sputtering.
"Do Something J! I'm NOT leaving this step!"
J walks by him and into the kitchen. He takes a tupperware container and places it over the intruder. The dilemma is about what to do now? I'm instructed to hold the tupperware down while we figure out how to get him to stay enclosed. Finally we manage to slip the dust pan underneath the container and I hear a faint squeaking as his tail slips out. J brings him out side and to the dumpster across the street.
I momentarily feel bad, he was only a tiny little thing, but four roommates is enough, thank you very much.
Its Like He Knows
G has been extra attentive lately. Well as attentive as you can be when you're 3,000 miles away. A call in the middle of the day on Saturday, which is virtually unheard of, another on Monday night just minutes after I had walked in from my date with My Crush and again last night, even though he's traveling for work.
Its strange.
Its also strange that I am warmed by his attention, pleased by it. G is still number one with me and I cannot shake that feeling. We talked for two hours after my date, where I was before the call never came up and I didn't offer any information. As our conversation progressed all thoughts of the easy first date with My Crush fell away and I was consumed with G, like the date never happened. Its not like our phone calls are intense or chalk full of interesting conversation, they're just comfortable. I sleep better after them, they make me feel good.
My first thought, after the shock of being asked out by My Crush, was "G". I felt unnecessarily guilty. I don't owe him anything, but I can't shake him. I'm not doing anything wrong. If it was something in me that was missing for him, then its his loss. My life can't be put on hold, hoping some day he will realize that I am the one for him. Life doesn't work that way and as much as I am resisting moving on, I know I must.
I did ask him to friend S's wedding and November. I figured we could make a weekend out of it. He wasn't very receptive at first. "I don't do weddings." Can there be a more lame excuse than that? I got "we'll see." as a response too.
Last night it was more of the lines of, "Well now I have to worry about getting a suit." and "So we can probably leave after dinner right?" No, not right.
I'm thinking, what happens if things progress with My Crush?
At one point I asked him if he liked all the travel he does for work.
"Its not that I like it, I can just make a lot of money with it. I need to be financially stable."
I laugh, "Financially stable for what?" I'm used to him talking about buying houses and being able to retire at 55. Things I never think about. He's the ant and I'm the grasshopper.
"For you." Was his serious reply. It was so matter-of-fact that I had no response.
He makes no sense. The only thing I can think is that he just doesn't know what he wants or he wants to be at certain place in his life before he will allow himself what he wants.
I guess I'll just hold on and enjoy the ride. All I know is I don't OWE anyone anything. Its useless worry about things and who's to say that My Crush is even going to follow up?
Its just strange that he's been more attentive lately. He does work for the government, I'm keeping my eyes open for men in dark suits and sunglasses talking into head sets.
Its strange.
Its also strange that I am warmed by his attention, pleased by it. G is still number one with me and I cannot shake that feeling. We talked for two hours after my date, where I was before the call never came up and I didn't offer any information. As our conversation progressed all thoughts of the easy first date with My Crush fell away and I was consumed with G, like the date never happened. Its not like our phone calls are intense or chalk full of interesting conversation, they're just comfortable. I sleep better after them, they make me feel good.
My first thought, after the shock of being asked out by My Crush, was "G". I felt unnecessarily guilty. I don't owe him anything, but I can't shake him. I'm not doing anything wrong. If it was something in me that was missing for him, then its his loss. My life can't be put on hold, hoping some day he will realize that I am the one for him. Life doesn't work that way and as much as I am resisting moving on, I know I must.
I did ask him to friend S's wedding and November. I figured we could make a weekend out of it. He wasn't very receptive at first. "I don't do weddings." Can there be a more lame excuse than that? I got "we'll see." as a response too.
Last night it was more of the lines of, "Well now I have to worry about getting a suit." and "So we can probably leave after dinner right?" No, not right.
I'm thinking, what happens if things progress with My Crush?
At one point I asked him if he liked all the travel he does for work.
"Its not that I like it, I can just make a lot of money with it. I need to be financially stable."
I laugh, "Financially stable for what?" I'm used to him talking about buying houses and being able to retire at 55. Things I never think about. He's the ant and I'm the grasshopper.
"For you." Was his serious reply. It was so matter-of-fact that I had no response.
He makes no sense. The only thing I can think is that he just doesn't know what he wants or he wants to be at certain place in his life before he will allow himself what he wants.
I guess I'll just hold on and enjoy the ride. All I know is I don't OWE anyone anything. Its useless worry about things and who's to say that My Crush is even going to follow up?
Its just strange that he's been more attentive lately. He does work for the government, I'm keeping my eyes open for men in dark suits and sunglasses talking into head sets.
Tuesday, August 08, 2006
Telepathic Communication DOES Work
My Crush asked me out yesterday.
It was completely unexpected and I'm sure my face registered that kind of surprise. I had let the crush fall by the wayside, letting it go as a passing phase to quell the boredom of my job and focus on something else. That something else just happened to be a person. The camp ended and I didn't really expect to see him until the fall and even then that would be fleeting. He's only scheduled here once a week. So I let it go.
He came in yesterday, didn't say anything and went to his studio. A few minutes later he came down and asked me to turn the AC on in his room. (Yes, one of my duties at work is thermostat control. I know you're jealous.) So I grab my keys and go upstairs and of course he has to follow me up the stairs so I'm hyper conscious of my back and walking and just nervous all around. I turn the temperature down and and he reaches over me and turns it up a little. "Not too cold" He said. I blush and say I'm sorry and head back down, throwing a smile over my shoulder as I go.
So I think nothing of it. His students come in. One gives me a message to give him as he's leaving, but I figure I'm not going to get to see him before he goes, so I make a note to call him the next day. It would be a good excuse to make contact.
So I'm looking up my Cingular bill online and he's comes down stairs with his student. His student leaves and he goes over to his mail box. Which I find odd because he never looks in his mailbox and then comes over to the counter.
"Hey, what's going on?" Crush is starting the conversation!
"Not much, just getting ready to leave." I flash my winning smile.
"Have you moved to Cambridge yet?"
"Yes unfortunately." Then I start blabbing on about my move and my roommates and all the issues, where a voice in the back of my head is screaming. "Shut up! Shut up! No one cares!"
"Cool then we're neighbors now." He lives in Allston, which I don't think really makes us neighbors, but I'm interested to see where he's going with this conversation.
"I guess we are."
"Yah K and I would have to let you know when we're having a party or something."
"Actually I'm having a party on August 19th. You should come by." Smooth. "I could shoot you an email with all the details."
"Yah, I don't have your information." So I write my number and email on a sticky and give it to him.
He makes some comment about my email address. I had made it up in highschool, its way too late to change it now.
"So are you off now?" He asks, I figure he's just keeping up the small talk, but he's making no move to leave.
I give a weary smile. "Yah finally."
Then out of the blue.
"Do you want to grab some dinner or something?"
I hope he didn't register the complete look of shock in my eyes and I'm glad he couldn't read the thoughts flying through my head. I have to go to the bank, I have a weeks worth of groceries in the fridge at work, I haven' t been home in 5 days.
"Sure." Is all that came out.
"Okay, how should we do this?" I think he could see I was flustered and now I was afraid I had seemed too eager.
"Uhhh, .." Grasping for ideas. I'm very articulate in times like this. "I have to go to the bank!" I blurt.
"Okay well why don't we go home and I'll call you around 7." Oh, very sensible. I like this.
So we part. I'm really floored, I really didn't think my telepathic communications were going through. I don't think I've ever been asked out this way. Just face to face, somewhat out of the blue. I usually just develop these childish crushes and then get bored with them. This is the first time they've ever amounted to anything.
I called my mom on the way home, because I couldn't figure out how to shut off the rear windshield wiper and I mention that I have a date.
"Just don't sleep with him on the first date Katie" Yes this is my mother's first reaction to the news that I have a date.
"Oh Darn Mom! I WAS planning on getting pregnant tonight!" She laughs.
At least I amuse her.
It was completely unexpected and I'm sure my face registered that kind of surprise. I had let the crush fall by the wayside, letting it go as a passing phase to quell the boredom of my job and focus on something else. That something else just happened to be a person. The camp ended and I didn't really expect to see him until the fall and even then that would be fleeting. He's only scheduled here once a week. So I let it go.
He came in yesterday, didn't say anything and went to his studio. A few minutes later he came down and asked me to turn the AC on in his room. (Yes, one of my duties at work is thermostat control. I know you're jealous.) So I grab my keys and go upstairs and of course he has to follow me up the stairs so I'm hyper conscious of my back and walking and just nervous all around. I turn the temperature down and and he reaches over me and turns it up a little. "Not too cold" He said. I blush and say I'm sorry and head back down, throwing a smile over my shoulder as I go.
So I think nothing of it. His students come in. One gives me a message to give him as he's leaving, but I figure I'm not going to get to see him before he goes, so I make a note to call him the next day. It would be a good excuse to make contact.
So I'm looking up my Cingular bill online and he's comes down stairs with his student. His student leaves and he goes over to his mail box. Which I find odd because he never looks in his mailbox and then comes over to the counter.
"Hey, what's going on?" Crush is starting the conversation!
"Not much, just getting ready to leave." I flash my winning smile.
"Have you moved to Cambridge yet?"
"Yes unfortunately." Then I start blabbing on about my move and my roommates and all the issues, where a voice in the back of my head is screaming. "Shut up! Shut up! No one cares!"
"Cool then we're neighbors now." He lives in Allston, which I don't think really makes us neighbors, but I'm interested to see where he's going with this conversation.
"I guess we are."
"Yah K and I would have to let you know when we're having a party or something."
"Actually I'm having a party on August 19th. You should come by." Smooth. "I could shoot you an email with all the details."
"Yah, I don't have your information." So I write my number and email on a sticky and give it to him.
He makes some comment about my email address. I had made it up in highschool, its way too late to change it now.
"So are you off now?" He asks, I figure he's just keeping up the small talk, but he's making no move to leave.
I give a weary smile. "Yah finally."
Then out of the blue.
"Do you want to grab some dinner or something?"
I hope he didn't register the complete look of shock in my eyes and I'm glad he couldn't read the thoughts flying through my head. I have to go to the bank, I have a weeks worth of groceries in the fridge at work, I haven' t been home in 5 days.
"Sure." Is all that came out.
"Okay, how should we do this?" I think he could see I was flustered and now I was afraid I had seemed too eager.
"Uhhh, .." Grasping for ideas. I'm very articulate in times like this. "I have to go to the bank!" I blurt.
"Okay well why don't we go home and I'll call you around 7." Oh, very sensible. I like this.
So we part. I'm really floored, I really didn't think my telepathic communications were going through. I don't think I've ever been asked out this way. Just face to face, somewhat out of the blue. I usually just develop these childish crushes and then get bored with them. This is the first time they've ever amounted to anything.
I called my mom on the way home, because I couldn't figure out how to shut off the rear windshield wiper and I mention that I have a date.
"Just don't sleep with him on the first date Katie" Yes this is my mother's first reaction to the news that I have a date.
"Oh Darn Mom! I WAS planning on getting pregnant tonight!" She laughs.
At least I amuse her.
Friday, August 04, 2006
Family Secrets
Well not secrets exactly, but information that I hadn't known before.
I learned yesterday that my grandfather's youngest brother died when he fell off a pool table and hit his head. He was dancing on it. He was the wild brother an he was in his sixties when it happened. I hope I'm still able to dance on a pool table when I'm in my sixties. I also hope I learn from his mistakes.
Its amazing the stories that come out when a family gets together. Not just the immediate family, but the extended family. I didn't even know my mom had six cousins from that one uncle. Of course I knew my uncle an the aunt that sadly just passed away, but not that they had six children. They were married for 64 years. It was incredibly sad. Just looking at my uncle made me sad, to lose your companion of that long. How does one manage?
He also looks slightly like my grandfather who passed away when I was eight. My uncle remembered how my grandfather would give me a ride to school every morning, squeezing my knee the whole way to make me squeal with delight. Papa was bringing me to school and we would listen to the fishing report from the local AM radio station. I always remember those mornings and sometimes we would pass my uncle, his oldest brother, and we would wave out the windows.
Katrinka he would call me, the Polish equivalent of my name and I would squeal again in protest of that name, but smile all the same. It was special. Some of my earliest memories were of running my finger over the smooth skin that covered the space where his pinky finger used to be. He had lost it in an accident working at the ship yard before I was born. He used to tell me I had bitten it off when I was a baby. For awhile I had believed him.
At the wake there was a wedding portrait of my uncle and his late wife. The best man was a young handsome man of twenty-four. I turned to my younger brother. "That's who's responsible for our eye brows." and we both laughed.
Next to that was the large family picture taken at a family reunion. The 50's crew cuts and cocky smiles on the brother's faces stand out along with my own likeness in the form of the tooth-less grin of my mother. Even at such a sad time it was hear warming to know you had those roots and those strong blood ties running through your veins. It was and emotionally draining day, but uplifting just the same, to be reminded of where you come from.
I learned yesterday that my grandfather's youngest brother died when he fell off a pool table and hit his head. He was dancing on it. He was the wild brother an he was in his sixties when it happened. I hope I'm still able to dance on a pool table when I'm in my sixties. I also hope I learn from his mistakes.
Its amazing the stories that come out when a family gets together. Not just the immediate family, but the extended family. I didn't even know my mom had six cousins from that one uncle. Of course I knew my uncle an the aunt that sadly just passed away, but not that they had six children. They were married for 64 years. It was incredibly sad. Just looking at my uncle made me sad, to lose your companion of that long. How does one manage?
He also looks slightly like my grandfather who passed away when I was eight. My uncle remembered how my grandfather would give me a ride to school every morning, squeezing my knee the whole way to make me squeal with delight. Papa was bringing me to school and we would listen to the fishing report from the local AM radio station. I always remember those mornings and sometimes we would pass my uncle, his oldest brother, and we would wave out the windows.
Katrinka he would call me, the Polish equivalent of my name and I would squeal again in protest of that name, but smile all the same. It was special. Some of my earliest memories were of running my finger over the smooth skin that covered the space where his pinky finger used to be. He had lost it in an accident working at the ship yard before I was born. He used to tell me I had bitten it off when I was a baby. For awhile I had believed him.
At the wake there was a wedding portrait of my uncle and his late wife. The best man was a young handsome man of twenty-four. I turned to my younger brother. "That's who's responsible for our eye brows." and we both laughed.
Next to that was the large family picture taken at a family reunion. The 50's crew cuts and cocky smiles on the brother's faces stand out along with my own likeness in the form of the tooth-less grin of my mother. Even at such a sad time it was hear warming to know you had those roots and those strong blood ties running through your veins. It was and emotionally draining day, but uplifting just the same, to be reminded of where you come from.
Wednesday, August 02, 2006
Shabby Chic and Hades
$1500 to fix my car. Sigh
I may just keep the duct tape. I hear shabby chic is in right now. Maybe I could get different color duct tapes and make designs. Cambridge always embraces quirkiness like that.
I'm away from the Cambridge place until probably Sunday night. I didn't tell my roommates, but I also feel that I didn't have too. They'll figure out when I'm not around and they'll give me a hard time about not being around, but its hot and my parents have a pool and I don't want to sweat my ass off in the city.
I actually have the day off tomorrow, albeit its for a funeral, but its a day not at work. I feel a little bad for not being here tomorrow seeing as they "eliminated" my assistant's position and tomorrow is her last day, but it can't be avoided. I feel bad that she got the boot, but she wasn't too much of a help to me. At least I was able to get a lunch break while she was here, not I don't know what's going to happen.
Its about 100 degrees here today. Some people are acting like the world is coming to an end. Its quite annoying. We have a concert tonight and I've already had 15 calls about it seeing if its still on. One lady was upset with me.
"Do you realize its 98 degrees he-ah?" My low tolerance for the Boston accent already has my back up.
"Yes I understand." Which is my standard answer to cranky bitches. What I really wanted to say is, "No lady, I didn't realize it was that hot out, I've been living under a rock for the past few days." I mean seriously you can't go two seconds with out hearing about the record heat or someone commenting on it.
I mean isn't this what its constantly like down south. People DO survive in this weather. Its not like we're in the depths of Hades. (Due to recent PMS binge I would be in the sixth circle with the gluttons, I would invent a new circle for the people who ask stupid questions.)
SHEESH!
I may just keep the duct tape. I hear shabby chic is in right now. Maybe I could get different color duct tapes and make designs. Cambridge always embraces quirkiness like that.
I'm away from the Cambridge place until probably Sunday night. I didn't tell my roommates, but I also feel that I didn't have too. They'll figure out when I'm not around and they'll give me a hard time about not being around, but its hot and my parents have a pool and I don't want to sweat my ass off in the city.
I actually have the day off tomorrow, albeit its for a funeral, but its a day not at work. I feel a little bad for not being here tomorrow seeing as they "eliminated" my assistant's position and tomorrow is her last day, but it can't be avoided. I feel bad that she got the boot, but she wasn't too much of a help to me. At least I was able to get a lunch break while she was here, not I don't know what's going to happen.
Its about 100 degrees here today. Some people are acting like the world is coming to an end. Its quite annoying. We have a concert tonight and I've already had 15 calls about it seeing if its still on. One lady was upset with me.
"Do you realize its 98 degrees he-ah?" My low tolerance for the Boston accent already has my back up.
"Yes I understand." Which is my standard answer to cranky bitches. What I really wanted to say is, "No lady, I didn't realize it was that hot out, I've been living under a rock for the past few days." I mean seriously you can't go two seconds with out hearing about the record heat or someone commenting on it.
I mean isn't this what its constantly like down south. People DO survive in this weather. Its not like we're in the depths of Hades. (Due to recent PMS binge I would be in the sixth circle with the gluttons, I would invent a new circle for the people who ask stupid questions.)
SHEESH!
Tuesday, August 01, 2006
T.G.I.A. (August)
July was a doozie! I'm glad to see it go. It seems that for at least half the month I've been existing under this black cloud of bad luck.
As I said to my dad last night, now that there is a new month, maybe my moon will move out of the house of shit ass bad luck in into something better, even if its moderate luck I would be satisfied.
Yesterday was the worst day of them all.
I got all moved in on Saturday, it was a long day, but pretty much went without incident, and I went to my parents house afterwards because I didn't want to deal with the chaos that night. My first night in the house was Sunday.
I got my first dose of the reality of living with roommates when I walked in and P was all cozy on the couch with his non-girlfriend Legs. I don't know why they call her Legs, as far as I can tell they're kind of short. Anyway! I put away my stuff and confined myself to my bedroom for the rest of the night, which was good because I needed to build my bookshelves and I have cable. My bookshelves came out well except for on shelf I put in upside down and didn't realize it until it was too late. (sigh) That's the shelf my big books will be on.
I woke up on Monday morning, got everything together and was ready to go, but the whole time I could feel I was up tight and slightly panicked about the commute. I get like that. Once I do something the first time I'm fine, but I stress about the unknown.
I'm in my car, and I pull out and CRACK! I hit a car going by me. I can't believe what I just did and I can't remember if I looked, which I can't imagine that I didn't. I have no idea how I did it, I only know I did do it. It was my fault.
I get out and look at my car and immediately crumple. I just dissolve into tears. The bumper is hanging off and the left headlight is just dangling there like an eye hanging out of its socket that you always see on Halloween masks. The grill is protruding at a grotesque angle.
I did this. My poor car.
The woman stopped, amazingly enough I did very little damage to her car. We exchanged information and she was on her way.
I did know what to do. J was home and he tried to push the bumper back in, but it was still too loose I was afraid to take it on 93. I could just imagine I coming loose in the tunnel and that was not a chance I was willing to take. He put my headlight in the trunk and I went in to call a rental company.
Lucky for me the Enterprise was right down the road and I was behind the wheel of a shiny red Focus by 8:30. The whole incident took 45 minutes, but it felt like forever.
The rest of the day I was all tensed up, I felt like my shoulders were around my ears the whole day, I was in a fog and my head was killing me. I'm so mad at myself. It just seems like I'm doing more and more stupid things as the days pass. I HATE doing stupid things and this one takes the cake.
My mom tried to cheer me up with stories, like when she rear ended someone on the way to my soccer game, or the time my dad hit a parked car, or backed out with the gate up on the station wagon smashing the whole rear window. The time my Nana opened her door and someone drove by and took it clean off and the time Mrs. S hit the dougnut truck. I know everyone makes mistakes, I just hate it when its me.
I had to turn in my keys last night to my landlord and I got all teary while I was there. Three years is a long time. Its the longest I've lived anywhere except my parents house. I nursed my first broken heart there, fell for G there while I was watching him make coffee in his boxer briefs and created my first home there all by myself. It was mine and only mine for a little while and that will always be special. G said I should have taken pictures, but I'll never forget what it looked like.
I guess every thing just moves on and I will settle in. My dad came up and duct taped my bumper and took the car home. Its amazing to me what that man can do with duct tape! In the dark with the exception of the gaping hole where the light should be, it almost looked whole.
I sure know how to make a memory special. I will always remember my first day in Cambridge as the day I almost destroyed my car. I can never do something easy.
I'm crossing my fingers that August will be a better month!
As I said to my dad last night, now that there is a new month, maybe my moon will move out of the house of shit ass bad luck in into something better, even if its moderate luck I would be satisfied.
Yesterday was the worst day of them all.
I got all moved in on Saturday, it was a long day, but pretty much went without incident, and I went to my parents house afterwards because I didn't want to deal with the chaos that night. My first night in the house was Sunday.
I got my first dose of the reality of living with roommates when I walked in and P was all cozy on the couch with his non-girlfriend Legs. I don't know why they call her Legs, as far as I can tell they're kind of short. Anyway! I put away my stuff and confined myself to my bedroom for the rest of the night, which was good because I needed to build my bookshelves and I have cable. My bookshelves came out well except for on shelf I put in upside down and didn't realize it until it was too late. (sigh) That's the shelf my big books will be on.
I woke up on Monday morning, got everything together and was ready to go, but the whole time I could feel I was up tight and slightly panicked about the commute. I get like that. Once I do something the first time I'm fine, but I stress about the unknown.
I'm in my car, and I pull out and CRACK! I hit a car going by me. I can't believe what I just did and I can't remember if I looked, which I can't imagine that I didn't. I have no idea how I did it, I only know I did do it. It was my fault.
I get out and look at my car and immediately crumple. I just dissolve into tears. The bumper is hanging off and the left headlight is just dangling there like an eye hanging out of its socket that you always see on Halloween masks. The grill is protruding at a grotesque angle.
I did this. My poor car.
The woman stopped, amazingly enough I did very little damage to her car. We exchanged information and she was on her way.
I did know what to do. J was home and he tried to push the bumper back in, but it was still too loose I was afraid to take it on 93. I could just imagine I coming loose in the tunnel and that was not a chance I was willing to take. He put my headlight in the trunk and I went in to call a rental company.
Lucky for me the Enterprise was right down the road and I was behind the wheel of a shiny red Focus by 8:30. The whole incident took 45 minutes, but it felt like forever.
The rest of the day I was all tensed up, I felt like my shoulders were around my ears the whole day, I was in a fog and my head was killing me. I'm so mad at myself. It just seems like I'm doing more and more stupid things as the days pass. I HATE doing stupid things and this one takes the cake.
My mom tried to cheer me up with stories, like when she rear ended someone on the way to my soccer game, or the time my dad hit a parked car, or backed out with the gate up on the station wagon smashing the whole rear window. The time my Nana opened her door and someone drove by and took it clean off and the time Mrs. S hit the dougnut truck. I know everyone makes mistakes, I just hate it when its me.
I had to turn in my keys last night to my landlord and I got all teary while I was there. Three years is a long time. Its the longest I've lived anywhere except my parents house. I nursed my first broken heart there, fell for G there while I was watching him make coffee in his boxer briefs and created my first home there all by myself. It was mine and only mine for a little while and that will always be special. G said I should have taken pictures, but I'll never forget what it looked like.
I guess every thing just moves on and I will settle in. My dad came up and duct taped my bumper and took the car home. Its amazing to me what that man can do with duct tape! In the dark with the exception of the gaping hole where the light should be, it almost looked whole.
I sure know how to make a memory special. I will always remember my first day in Cambridge as the day I almost destroyed my car. I can never do something easy.
I'm crossing my fingers that August will be a better month!
Friday, July 28, 2006
A Little of What is Driving Me Crazy
Re-printed from a previous email: I had asked J to just let me try to see what of my stuff would fit and to not criticize me in the middle of it. (I left his typos intact)
"I wasn't THAT bad. Jeesh! The glasses I got a little testy over because we don't need them taking up counter space. But I told the same thing to P (and I'm taking this to myself too). Bottom line is, it's nice to have, but not practical. In Quincy, P has like 4 "mugs" in the freezer and I have like 7 pint glasses chilling. Wonderful and they're nice, but we can't have it. So I told him already...pick your favorite and put one in the freezer. I have one mug in there and I'm probably not even going to put any pint glasses. I'd like to Kate. And you know what, I'd like to think it's "my place" too, but it's "our" place. So we can't take too much room. I don't know what I'm going to do with a lot of my stuff. I know you think I don't care about it, but I do. And I'll probably have to chuck it or store it at my mom's because I'm making room for you guys. This isn't a lecture or anything even close to that. I don't want you to take it that way. I'm just explaining that while it seems that I was snapping just as you the other night, I'm doing it to everyone and knowing that I have to minimize the stuff I bring as well. If I end up being the bad guy because I'm being the "superego" of the apartment, then so be it. But I just am trying to make sure this isn't bad like when I had 6 roommates in college. "
My guess is that J has developed hs "Lord of the Manor" attitude due to the fact that he moved in on the 15th and have been there alone. He makes no sense. The freezer is empty! Put as many freaking pint glasses as you want! No, he wants to leave space for what MAY go into the freezer.
Ummmm what?
So this is where I am now. I can't use all the space we have because other stuff MAY have to go there some day.
Its like not wearing your favorite shirt even though you like it, because it may get ruined or dirty, or not eating the fries because you may get fat. Its just a waste!
I'm so frustrated I'm not making sense!
"I wasn't THAT bad. Jeesh! The glasses I got a little testy over because we don't need them taking up counter space. But I told the same thing to P (and I'm taking this to myself too). Bottom line is, it's nice to have, but not practical. In Quincy, P has like 4 "mugs" in the freezer and I have like 7 pint glasses chilling. Wonderful and they're nice, but we can't have it. So I told him already...pick your favorite and put one in the freezer. I have one mug in there and I'm probably not even going to put any pint glasses. I'd like to Kate. And you know what, I'd like to think it's "my place" too, but it's "our" place. So we can't take too much room. I don't know what I'm going to do with a lot of my stuff. I know you think I don't care about it, but I do. And I'll probably have to chuck it or store it at my mom's because I'm making room for you guys. This isn't a lecture or anything even close to that. I don't want you to take it that way. I'm just explaining that while it seems that I was snapping just as you the other night, I'm doing it to everyone and knowing that I have to minimize the stuff I bring as well. If I end up being the bad guy because I'm being the "superego" of the apartment, then so be it. But I just am trying to make sure this isn't bad like when I had 6 roommates in college. "
My guess is that J has developed hs "Lord of the Manor" attitude due to the fact that he moved in on the 15th and have been there alone. He makes no sense. The freezer is empty! Put as many freaking pint glasses as you want! No, he wants to leave space for what MAY go into the freezer.
Ummmm what?
So this is where I am now. I can't use all the space we have because other stuff MAY have to go there some day.
Its like not wearing your favorite shirt even though you like it, because it may get ruined or dirty, or not eating the fries because you may get fat. Its just a waste!
I'm so frustrated I'm not making sense!
Are You Serious?
Piano Teacher/Web designer at work: "I was just meeting with Communications Director and your name came up."
Me, blank stare, "What did I do?"
He laughs, "Sorry didn't mean to sound ominous. We are putting a page up on the website that will explain the registration procedures here and we thought that we should have a picture of you meeting a family or shaking someone's hand or something, but there doesn't seem to be any families around today. I'll have to do it some other time."
I laugh, "You have to give me some warning so I can make myself look decent." I'm joking.
Him, completely serious. "Yah, you're not looking your best."
I freeze and wait for the chuckle or the "I'm only kidding", but it never comes and of course I feel the need to defend my hastily thrown back hair and less than inspired outfit.
"I'm in the middle of the move, I'm stressed."
"Oh I see, well good luck with that." Still completely serious and leaves.
Me completely stunned, even if it is true, did he have to voice it!
Me, blank stare, "What did I do?"
He laughs, "Sorry didn't mean to sound ominous. We are putting a page up on the website that will explain the registration procedures here and we thought that we should have a picture of you meeting a family or shaking someone's hand or something, but there doesn't seem to be any families around today. I'll have to do it some other time."
I laugh, "You have to give me some warning so I can make myself look decent." I'm joking.
Him, completely serious. "Yah, you're not looking your best."
I freeze and wait for the chuckle or the "I'm only kidding", but it never comes and of course I feel the need to defend my hastily thrown back hair and less than inspired outfit.
"I'm in the middle of the move, I'm stressed."
"Oh I see, well good luck with that." Still completely serious and leaves.
Me completely stunned, even if it is true, did he have to voice it!
Thursday, July 27, 2006
ALL BACK!
I take it all back!
I am NOT excited to move in with roommates at all! They are annoying and anal and are judging my every move! I had the most annoying conversation with J last night in he kitchen.
I must preface all this with the fact that I have lived on my own for almost a year. When I moved in on my own, I furnished a four room apartment. I love to cook and my mother likes to cook and we both love to shop; therefore, I have an extremely well-equipped kitchen. J does not cook, has never cooked and has no idea what is required to perform that think called cooking.
"I just want to remind you." J starts as I'm very neatly stacking my spices in the tiny cabinets above the stove. "That there are three other people moving into this place."
"I know." I continue to place the tiny spice jars in neat lines.
"Well its just I can see you creeping into the other side of the cabinet, and then I can just see you continue on to the next." He's trying to be calm, but I can sense his discomfort. "What is all this stuff anyway. Do you really need it all. I think we all have to make sacrifices."
Translation. You, Kate, have to make sacrifices, because I am OCD and don't like what you are doing.
"J do you cook?" Knowing the answer is no I continue. "Yes I need this stuff, or will eventually, so sometime now or later I will need this stuff I don't' see the big deal if they're put in the cabinet now or later. Do you have more stuff to put in the cabinets besides food?"
"No."
"Does P?"
"No."
"Does A?"
"Not that I know of."
"Then I don't see the problem."
"I'm just saying, like with the margarita glasses, you have six, who needs six margarita glasses at the same time! We all have to make sacrifices and maybe you won't be able to bring everything you have."
At this point I snapped. The cabinet I had been placing stuff in maybe one foot by one foot. There are so many other cabinets with nothing in them, I lose it. The two spices in my hand go flying into the shopping bag and I yell.
"I give up! Everyone has to compromise except you! I have given tons of suggestions on how to expand the space and make the most out the little we have, but you're not receptive. You can't move the kitchen table, we can't get a pantry because you have a rinky dink microwave cart. You don't like clutter, but was in such a rush to get in here that we didn't evaluate the fact that there is NO STORAGE. I'm not sacrificing stuff for the kitchen because you have some weird thing about clutter!"
I think I shocked him, easy going Kate has been pushed to her breaking point. I felt bad after I yelled. I rarely ever get mad , but I was stressed, hungry, and sweaty. I don't deal well with being sweaty, and I was tired of being a doormat.
We worked it out and he apologized.
I did not.
I asked my other friend, girl J, who had witnessed the whole incident, if I had overreacted and she said totally not. Girl J is the most level-headed person I know, so that made me feel better.
Bottom line: Don't fuck with my kitchen.
I am NOT excited to move in with roommates at all! They are annoying and anal and are judging my every move! I had the most annoying conversation with J last night in he kitchen.
I must preface all this with the fact that I have lived on my own for almost a year. When I moved in on my own, I furnished a four room apartment. I love to cook and my mother likes to cook and we both love to shop; therefore, I have an extremely well-equipped kitchen. J does not cook, has never cooked and has no idea what is required to perform that think called cooking.
"I just want to remind you." J starts as I'm very neatly stacking my spices in the tiny cabinets above the stove. "That there are three other people moving into this place."
"I know." I continue to place the tiny spice jars in neat lines.
"Well its just I can see you creeping into the other side of the cabinet, and then I can just see you continue on to the next." He's trying to be calm, but I can sense his discomfort. "What is all this stuff anyway. Do you really need it all. I think we all have to make sacrifices."
Translation. You, Kate, have to make sacrifices, because I am OCD and don't like what you are doing.
"J do you cook?" Knowing the answer is no I continue. "Yes I need this stuff, or will eventually, so sometime now or later I will need this stuff I don't' see the big deal if they're put in the cabinet now or later. Do you have more stuff to put in the cabinets besides food?"
"No."
"Does P?"
"No."
"Does A?"
"Not that I know of."
"Then I don't see the problem."
"I'm just saying, like with the margarita glasses, you have six, who needs six margarita glasses at the same time! We all have to make sacrifices and maybe you won't be able to bring everything you have."
At this point I snapped. The cabinet I had been placing stuff in maybe one foot by one foot. There are so many other cabinets with nothing in them, I lose it. The two spices in my hand go flying into the shopping bag and I yell.
"I give up! Everyone has to compromise except you! I have given tons of suggestions on how to expand the space and make the most out the little we have, but you're not receptive. You can't move the kitchen table, we can't get a pantry because you have a rinky dink microwave cart. You don't like clutter, but was in such a rush to get in here that we didn't evaluate the fact that there is NO STORAGE. I'm not sacrificing stuff for the kitchen because you have some weird thing about clutter!"
I think I shocked him, easy going Kate has been pushed to her breaking point. I felt bad after I yelled. I rarely ever get mad , but I was stressed, hungry, and sweaty. I don't deal well with being sweaty, and I was tired of being a doormat.
We worked it out and he apologized.
I did not.
I asked my other friend, girl J, who had witnessed the whole incident, if I had overreacted and she said totally not. Girl J is the most level-headed person I know, so that made me feel better.
Bottom line: Don't fuck with my kitchen.
Wednesday, July 26, 2006
Serving One and Other Rants
The most exciting thing about moving in with roommates is that I will have people to cook for. I am awful at just cooking for one. I will usually make enough food for an army and have the left overs sit in my refrigerator until I remember they are in there taking up space. I can't tell you how many tupperware containers I have had to sacrifice to the dumpster because the smell of old food wouldn't come unglued from the plastic.
I have wasted so much food in the past 10 months that I have lived alone that I am ashamed just thinking about it. Right now I have half a casserole dish of macaroni and cheese rotting in my fridge. I've bought loves of bread and never even touched them. They would just turn to mold. I have dumped half gallons of milk weeks past their sell by date, but first I would have to pull of the plastic tab to open them.
The guilt is so bad that I will leave stuff in my fridge even thought I know I won't use it and wait till the sell by date has passed to put it in the trash. Every time I do so I vow to start using what I have before going out to buy new and improved food, but that never happens. I think it may be a sickness. I don't have the patience to scale down recipes. Its just weird to me to cook with such tiny amounts. It seems unnatural.
I'm thinking of this all now because I am preparing myself for the massacre that will happen as soon as I get home. I'm planning on cleaning out my pantry and my fridge. I fear I will have no mercy, anything that has been in there for more than a month MUST GO.
This moving stuff is turning me into a raving lunatic. I'm restless and twitchy and my mind is going a mile a minute.
Should I bring over the dishes or my shoes tonight? Do I have to wrap the glasses? Do I think they would break if I just lay them in a box and drive really carefully? Will the couch even fit through the GD door? Where in God's name am I going to put all my coats that I won't need for another three months? I can't believe I'm giving up an apartment with 5 closets and abundant cabinet space and a walk in pantry.
Deep breath, we don't need tears.
This move will get done and I will find a place for everything and it will be good.
Or someone will pay....
I have wasted so much food in the past 10 months that I have lived alone that I am ashamed just thinking about it. Right now I have half a casserole dish of macaroni and cheese rotting in my fridge. I've bought loves of bread and never even touched them. They would just turn to mold. I have dumped half gallons of milk weeks past their sell by date, but first I would have to pull of the plastic tab to open them.
The guilt is so bad that I will leave stuff in my fridge even thought I know I won't use it and wait till the sell by date has passed to put it in the trash. Every time I do so I vow to start using what I have before going out to buy new and improved food, but that never happens. I think it may be a sickness. I don't have the patience to scale down recipes. Its just weird to me to cook with such tiny amounts. It seems unnatural.
I'm thinking of this all now because I am preparing myself for the massacre that will happen as soon as I get home. I'm planning on cleaning out my pantry and my fridge. I fear I will have no mercy, anything that has been in there for more than a month MUST GO.
This moving stuff is turning me into a raving lunatic. I'm restless and twitchy and my mind is going a mile a minute.
Should I bring over the dishes or my shoes tonight? Do I have to wrap the glasses? Do I think they would break if I just lay them in a box and drive really carefully? Will the couch even fit through the GD door? Where in God's name am I going to put all my coats that I won't need for another three months? I can't believe I'm giving up an apartment with 5 closets and abundant cabinet space and a walk in pantry.
Deep breath, we don't need tears.
This move will get done and I will find a place for everything and it will be good.
Or someone will pay....
Monday, July 24, 2006
My Adventures in Pet Sitting
My brother and sister-in-law are down the Cape for the week so I graciously offered to pet sit for Cuddles, their 10 week old kitten. Why they didn't take him with them is beyond me, but I digress.
In offering to pet sit, what I really meant was that I would like to take Cuddles to my apartment and pretend that he was mine for a week. What they heard was that I would go a half hour out of my way to stop by and make sure Cuddles wasn't lonely, turn on the pool filter and take in their mail. Huh? Communication problems maybe?
Originally, I was going to stop in on Tuesday and Thursday nights and M's sister was going to do the rest, seeing she doesn't work and lives five minutes away. I didn't even want to commit to that much, seeing as I have a whole apartment to move sometime in the next 5 day; however, by the tone of big bro's voice, I wanted to avoid any "Kate is an ungrateful bitch of a sister" conversations.
Saturday morning I get the call that they forgot that M's sister is going away Sunday into Monday and do I mind, stopping by Sunday night and Monday night? I can't say no, so its four nights of trekking into the boonies of Massachusetts.
Last night was the first night, and I must say it was worth it when I opened the front door and was greeted by pitiful kitten mews and saw a distressed Cuddles behind the downstairs glass door. I opened the door and he was glued to my side for the first fifteen minutes that I was there. Poor little bugger was so lonely!
We were having a good time, I had turned the pool filter on and was letting it run for a few hours and Cuddles and I settled down to watch the Miss Universe Pageant. I'm not usually a pageant fan, but I am a Project Runway fan, and I wanted to see Kayne's dress on Miss USA.
While I was relaxing, Cuddles was attacking any appendage that moved and that included my nose, but eventually he fell asleep on my neck and we were very cozy. This is when I decide I should go outside and shut the pool filter off. It was after the evening gown competition and before the questions. I go to go out the back door, but it was pitch black and the outside lights are upstairs off the porch.
I head up stairs and go to open the sliding glass door, but its stuck. I then realize that there is a door stopper, decorated with Kitties holding the door shut, so I lift that, open the door and slide out shutting the door behind me. I get back, tug at the door, nothing. I sigh, keep tugging and then realize the door stopper had slid back into place!
No worries, I'll just use the back door. Locked!
I'm locked out!
I'm trying not to panic and cursing myself for being so paranoid as I circle the house looking for a way to get back in. There is nothing. I'm barefoot and my keys and phone are inside. Finally I see the air conditioner in the window below the deck. Of course there are crushed rocks and spider webs under there, but I asses the widow and start to bang on the air conditioner. All I can manage to do is break the plastic siding and create a hole only big enough for the kitten to squeeze through and of course he does and won't stay in. So now I'm sweaty, dirty, frustrated and bug bitten holding a kitten and I decide the only thing I can do is go borrow a phone from the neighbors.
I arrive on the door step probably looking like I just spent the week in the woods clutching a squirming kitten, but they are nice, if not a little confused, and let me use their phone.
I call my parents. It was one for the most frustrating calls ever! I couldn't get them to understand that bothering complete strangers was my last resort and yes I tried the front door.
Finally they get bro on the phone after me standing on the door step for 15 minutes while Cuddles calmly swatted at mosquitoes, and told me that the window near the back door should be open and I might be able to reach the lock from there.
The Neighbor offers to come with me and we head over to look at the "open" window. That window was locked tighter than Fort Knox, I sigh almost defeated and tell the neighbor about the air conditioner.
Its the only way. He agrees and goes home to get a crow bar, so we can wrench the window open.
Poor Cuddles is getting more squirmy by the second, so I spy the doggy door left over from the previous residents and figure I can at least put him down in there. Of course the doggy door is wedged shut, just In case the midget burglers came to the area, but I start banging it in frustration and it finally opens. I place the kitten inside and just for fun see if can reach the lock.
My fingers swipe against the door handle, but its the dead bold that needs to be released. My fingers are barely able to touch the bolt, so I get down on the ground and wedge half of my body into the doggy door, my face is squashed up against the door, the kitten is attacking my fingers and I am stretching as far as I can without dislocating my shoulder. This is how the neighbor finds me. He peeks into the window and exclaims how I'm almost there. I think he was happy at the fact that he may not have to use a crow bar on his neighbor's house.
I push one more time, hear my shoulder pop, and my fingers manage to twist the bold and it clicks open. My body sags in relief and exhaustion. I'm in!
I profusely thank the neighbor and rush inside. I am shaking with frustration. I HATE doing bone-headed things like that, but at least I didn't have to smash their air conditioner.
I had to tape up the window where I broke the air conditioner siding, and wedge the screw back into the pet door. I'm heading back tonight. I'm so scared that some how Cuddles managed to escape through the tape and is missing.
As I'm sitting here itching my bug bites and rubbing my bruises you better believe that my phone is going to be attached to my hip, my shoes will be on and my keys attached to my hand, I may even use staples.
In offering to pet sit, what I really meant was that I would like to take Cuddles to my apartment and pretend that he was mine for a week. What they heard was that I would go a half hour out of my way to stop by and make sure Cuddles wasn't lonely, turn on the pool filter and take in their mail. Huh? Communication problems maybe?
Originally, I was going to stop in on Tuesday and Thursday nights and M's sister was going to do the rest, seeing she doesn't work and lives five minutes away. I didn't even want to commit to that much, seeing as I have a whole apartment to move sometime in the next 5 day; however, by the tone of big bro's voice, I wanted to avoid any "Kate is an ungrateful bitch of a sister" conversations.
Saturday morning I get the call that they forgot that M's sister is going away Sunday into Monday and do I mind, stopping by Sunday night and Monday night? I can't say no, so its four nights of trekking into the boonies of Massachusetts.
Last night was the first night, and I must say it was worth it when I opened the front door and was greeted by pitiful kitten mews and saw a distressed Cuddles behind the downstairs glass door. I opened the door and he was glued to my side for the first fifteen minutes that I was there. Poor little bugger was so lonely!
We were having a good time, I had turned the pool filter on and was letting it run for a few hours and Cuddles and I settled down to watch the Miss Universe Pageant. I'm not usually a pageant fan, but I am a Project Runway fan, and I wanted to see Kayne's dress on Miss USA.
While I was relaxing, Cuddles was attacking any appendage that moved and that included my nose, but eventually he fell asleep on my neck and we were very cozy. This is when I decide I should go outside and shut the pool filter off. It was after the evening gown competition and before the questions. I go to go out the back door, but it was pitch black and the outside lights are upstairs off the porch.
I head up stairs and go to open the sliding glass door, but its stuck. I then realize that there is a door stopper, decorated with Kitties holding the door shut, so I lift that, open the door and slide out shutting the door behind me. I get back, tug at the door, nothing. I sigh, keep tugging and then realize the door stopper had slid back into place!
No worries, I'll just use the back door. Locked!
I'm locked out!
I'm trying not to panic and cursing myself for being so paranoid as I circle the house looking for a way to get back in. There is nothing. I'm barefoot and my keys and phone are inside. Finally I see the air conditioner in the window below the deck. Of course there are crushed rocks and spider webs under there, but I asses the widow and start to bang on the air conditioner. All I can manage to do is break the plastic siding and create a hole only big enough for the kitten to squeeze through and of course he does and won't stay in. So now I'm sweaty, dirty, frustrated and bug bitten holding a kitten and I decide the only thing I can do is go borrow a phone from the neighbors.
I arrive on the door step probably looking like I just spent the week in the woods clutching a squirming kitten, but they are nice, if not a little confused, and let me use their phone.
I call my parents. It was one for the most frustrating calls ever! I couldn't get them to understand that bothering complete strangers was my last resort and yes I tried the front door.
Finally they get bro on the phone after me standing on the door step for 15 minutes while Cuddles calmly swatted at mosquitoes, and told me that the window near the back door should be open and I might be able to reach the lock from there.
The Neighbor offers to come with me and we head over to look at the "open" window. That window was locked tighter than Fort Knox, I sigh almost defeated and tell the neighbor about the air conditioner.
Its the only way. He agrees and goes home to get a crow bar, so we can wrench the window open.
Poor Cuddles is getting more squirmy by the second, so I spy the doggy door left over from the previous residents and figure I can at least put him down in there. Of course the doggy door is wedged shut, just In case the midget burglers came to the area, but I start banging it in frustration and it finally opens. I place the kitten inside and just for fun see if can reach the lock.
My fingers swipe against the door handle, but its the dead bold that needs to be released. My fingers are barely able to touch the bolt, so I get down on the ground and wedge half of my body into the doggy door, my face is squashed up against the door, the kitten is attacking my fingers and I am stretching as far as I can without dislocating my shoulder. This is how the neighbor finds me. He peeks into the window and exclaims how I'm almost there. I think he was happy at the fact that he may not have to use a crow bar on his neighbor's house.
I push one more time, hear my shoulder pop, and my fingers manage to twist the bold and it clicks open. My body sags in relief and exhaustion. I'm in!
I profusely thank the neighbor and rush inside. I am shaking with frustration. I HATE doing bone-headed things like that, but at least I didn't have to smash their air conditioner.
I had to tape up the window where I broke the air conditioner siding, and wedge the screw back into the pet door. I'm heading back tonight. I'm so scared that some how Cuddles managed to escape through the tape and is missing.
As I'm sitting here itching my bug bites and rubbing my bruises you better believe that my phone is going to be attached to my hip, my shoes will be on and my keys attached to my hand, I may even use staples.
Friday, July 21, 2006
Why I Am the Best Ex-Girlfriend
"This is going to be a weird conversation, but I want you to be completely honest with me." This is how my ex M starts the conversation.
That opening seems a little ominous to me and I'm get the feeling that I may not have it in me to be completely honest with him. "okay shoot" I reply a little hesitantly.
"Okay, this is a little long and complicated, so I'll try to make it short." He then launches into a story about his wisdom tooth and how he keeps getting food stuck in between and he notices how it smells bad. He's telling me how he's really self conscious about it and he just came back from the oral surgeon. He went to the oral surgeon to see about getting the tooth remover because getting the food stuck in it causes him to have bad breath.
Reason #1 why I am a good ex. I am listening to this whole explanation only interjecting with the required "okays" and "uh huh's" even though his vivid description of his predicament is slightly turning my stomach.
"So the oral surgeon told me that extracting this tooth, on a scale from 1-5 with 5 being the most difficult would be a 5+. So now I have to decide if I want to have it done. So what I need to know from you is while we were dating, did you ever notice me having really bad breath."
I take a deep breath, glad that this is an easy question. I can answer this one.
Him not showering on the weekends, that bothered me. Him constantly smoking and not tobacco that bothered me. The snoring, that REALLY bothered me. I wrack my brain thinking of any time I was turned off by his breath. I come up empty and I'm pleased and a little relieved that I don't have to lie.
"I honestly don't remember a time when your breath was an issue for me."
"Really? Are you sure? Well that makes me feel better, because I met this AMAZING girl last weekend and I've been worried about my breath the whole time!"
Reason #2 why I am the best ex: I let him go on and on about this 4'11'', red headed hairdresser he met last weekend and say nothing except "Really? That's great! I'm happy for you."
Reason #3 why I am the best ex: He goes on to tell me that she texts him all day saying how she can't stop thinking about him, and she misses him (have I mentioned that they met last weekend) and I don't say what I'm really thinking which is "psycho!"
I'm also relieved because now I don't have to worry about putting him off about visiting, because I know there is only reason why he wants to visit.
I'm probably able to be the best ex-girlfriend because we ended so amicably and I'm not remotely attracted to him anymore.
That opening seems a little ominous to me and I'm get the feeling that I may not have it in me to be completely honest with him. "okay shoot" I reply a little hesitantly.
"Okay, this is a little long and complicated, so I'll try to make it short." He then launches into a story about his wisdom tooth and how he keeps getting food stuck in between and he notices how it smells bad. He's telling me how he's really self conscious about it and he just came back from the oral surgeon. He went to the oral surgeon to see about getting the tooth remover because getting the food stuck in it causes him to have bad breath.
Reason #1 why I am a good ex. I am listening to this whole explanation only interjecting with the required "okays" and "uh huh's" even though his vivid description of his predicament is slightly turning my stomach.
"So the oral surgeon told me that extracting this tooth, on a scale from 1-5 with 5 being the most difficult would be a 5+. So now I have to decide if I want to have it done. So what I need to know from you is while we were dating, did you ever notice me having really bad breath."
I take a deep breath, glad that this is an easy question. I can answer this one.
Him not showering on the weekends, that bothered me. Him constantly smoking and not tobacco that bothered me. The snoring, that REALLY bothered me. I wrack my brain thinking of any time I was turned off by his breath. I come up empty and I'm pleased and a little relieved that I don't have to lie.
"I honestly don't remember a time when your breath was an issue for me."
"Really? Are you sure? Well that makes me feel better, because I met this AMAZING girl last weekend and I've been worried about my breath the whole time!"
Reason #2 why I am the best ex: I let him go on and on about this 4'11'', red headed hairdresser he met last weekend and say nothing except "Really? That's great! I'm happy for you."
Reason #3 why I am the best ex: He goes on to tell me that she texts him all day saying how she can't stop thinking about him, and she misses him (have I mentioned that they met last weekend) and I don't say what I'm really thinking which is "psycho!"
I'm also relieved because now I don't have to worry about putting him off about visiting, because I know there is only reason why he wants to visit.
I'm probably able to be the best ex-girlfriend because we ended so amicably and I'm not remotely attracted to him anymore.
Thursday, July 20, 2006
Taunted by the Band Geeks
I've just witnessed two band geeks making out.
It seems that since I am not getting any action of my own, aside from phone action, I must be taunted by a teenaged make-out session. It was all I could do to not yell, "get a room!" I'm much more mature than that.
I did almost deck one of them for calling me Ma'am. The first time it was okay, I almost corrected him, but what do you say. "Please call me Miss?"
How pathetic does that sound?
The second and third time I had to clench my teeth tightly to keep from yelling out, "I'm only twenty-seven g'damnit!"
I've been holding back a lot today!
It seems that since I am not getting any action of my own, aside from phone action, I must be taunted by a teenaged make-out session. It was all I could do to not yell, "get a room!" I'm much more mature than that.
I did almost deck one of them for calling me Ma'am. The first time it was okay, I almost corrected him, but what do you say. "Please call me Miss?"
How pathetic does that sound?
The second and third time I had to clench my teeth tightly to keep from yelling out, "I'm only twenty-seven g'damnit!"
I've been holding back a lot today!
If Only I Had A dowry
I'm heading over to my brother and sister-in-law's house tonight after work. I think he mostly invited me because I owe him $50 dollars for our parent's anniversary present. He is the oldest and most responsible (though that is debatable) he usually, or his wife usually, gets the present and then tells me and my younger brother what to pay him. I'm also going over because I will be checking in on the newest member of the family, Cuddles the kitten when they go on vacation. I love him and I want one of my own, but considering the fact that A told me if I got one it would mysteriously disappear, I don't want to put a defenseless kitten into peril.
Cuddles is the closest we have to a second generation in my family. We are all waiting with anticipation for the day when big bro and wife announce that they are pregnant, but that hasn't happened yet. They are my parents biggest chance right now. Well unless I get knocked up, but judging from my absent sex-life, that probably is a long shot. Though I have been screwing up my birth control lately .
I thought we were getting the good news a few weeks ago. I was at the bro's house for a barbecue and M's (sister-law) mother comes up to me.
"Just who I was looking for! Has M told you the exciting news?" She says looking at me expectantly.
Of course my mind flashes to PREGNANT! So I look at M with wide eyes.
She roles her eyes reading my mind and says, "Its not that exciting, I'm not pregnant."
Her mom looks at me again. "I found a young man for you! He's a fireman and lives right near you. You know I live in assisted living and the fire alarm is broken so they have to have a fireman on duty. He was on the 3-11 shift last night."
"Oh, did you?" I look helplessly to M.
M looks at her mother, "Ma , leave Kate alone."
"Well he's handsome, and has two jobs, can I give him your number?"
Me being polite, "Oh well, I don't know . How old is he?"
"Too old for you, but he looks 30."
"He looks 30? Is he 40?!"
"I don't know. I'll get his number for you. I called M last night to get your number, but she wouldn't give it to me. She said you were probably busy."
I silently pledge to name my first born after M. "Well you can get his number for me then."
"Okay, He's very good looking. I will do that." Have I mentioned that M's mother is legally blind. I'm taking all that description with a grain of salt.
I smile politely and make a bee-line for the basement where I know they keep the vodka.
After my own mother comes up to me.
"What did M's Mother want?"
"Oh she found a man for me. I guess he's a good looking fireman, but you know her eyesight."
"She didn't! I can't believe her! Tell her to leave you alone!" Her face is incredulous, but then I slowly see it turn to thoughtful. "Well Katie, you never know?"
Oh Christ!
Cuddles is the closest we have to a second generation in my family. We are all waiting with anticipation for the day when big bro and wife announce that they are pregnant, but that hasn't happened yet. They are my parents biggest chance right now. Well unless I get knocked up, but judging from my absent sex-life, that probably is a long shot. Though I have been screwing up my birth control lately .
I thought we were getting the good news a few weeks ago. I was at the bro's house for a barbecue and M's (sister-law) mother comes up to me.
"Just who I was looking for! Has M told you the exciting news?" She says looking at me expectantly.
Of course my mind flashes to PREGNANT! So I look at M with wide eyes.
She roles her eyes reading my mind and says, "Its not that exciting, I'm not pregnant."
Her mom looks at me again. "I found a young man for you! He's a fireman and lives right near you. You know I live in assisted living and the fire alarm is broken so they have to have a fireman on duty. He was on the 3-11 shift last night."
"Oh, did you?" I look helplessly to M.
M looks at her mother, "Ma , leave Kate alone."
"Well he's handsome, and has two jobs, can I give him your number?"
Me being polite, "Oh well, I don't know . How old is he?"
"Too old for you, but he looks 30."
"He looks 30? Is he 40?!"
"I don't know. I'll get his number for you. I called M last night to get your number, but she wouldn't give it to me. She said you were probably busy."
I silently pledge to name my first born after M. "Well you can get his number for me then."
"Okay, He's very good looking. I will do that." Have I mentioned that M's mother is legally blind. I'm taking all that description with a grain of salt.
I smile politely and make a bee-line for the basement where I know they keep the vodka.
After my own mother comes up to me.
"What did M's Mother want?"
"Oh she found a man for me. I guess he's a good looking fireman, but you know her eyesight."
"She didn't! I can't believe her! Tell her to leave you alone!" Her face is incredulous, but then I slowly see it turn to thoughtful. "Well Katie, you never know?"
Oh Christ!
Wednesday, July 19, 2006
Why I Will Never Date Again
I have no game.
It has become shockingly apparent to me today that I have no idea how to entice the opposite sex. I feel bad for My Crush, who has probably had to suffer through my lame attempts to let him know that I am interested. Not that there have been many, if any at all.
I think this morning I smirked at him. I have a decent smile, you think I could have unleashed that, but he took me by surprise and my smile came out like a smirk. I don't even think teeth were involved. It was 9 A.M. I think I had one sip of coffee and I had my faces smashed into my hands trying to hold my head up right. I saw someone coming out of the corner of my eye and turned to see who it was. It was My Crush.
Eye contact.
Him-Cute, sheepish smile.
Me-frighteningly smooshed, closed lipped smirk, most likely accompanied by dear in headlights expression.
He goes through the door and I groan audibly. Spinster-hood here I come!
On my lunch break the Band Camp was having a chamber music concert and My Crush coaches one of the chamber groups. (In case you were wondering, I have forgiven My Crush for working for the band camp because he incredibly cute, which negates the band camp geek factor.) So I spy My Crush standing in the back watching the concert with the roommate, so I saunter casually out to he theater to "watch" My Crush, er, I mean the concert.
When I was out there I did a wonderful job of looking interested, clapping at the relevant times and breaks in the performance and making conversation with a woman who works in the communications.
What I really was doing was communicating telepathically to My Crush that I was interested and available. It didn't work. I don't know why I can't just get the nerve to ask him out. It works in my head.
"Crush, we're two single, healthy adults, I think we should get together and have drinks."
Crush looks pleasantly surprised, "I could feel a telepathic connection with you, but your beauty intimidated me and I was afraid you were out of my league."
Me, blushing modestly. "Crush you flatter me! Saturday at 8?"
"That would be perfect!" Crush grins broadly, like he has won the lottery. Which is what going out with me is akin to.
Of course again, that's all in my head.
In reality I will probably just smirk at him again tomorrow. Let us all cross our fingers that there is no drool.
It has become shockingly apparent to me today that I have no idea how to entice the opposite sex. I feel bad for My Crush, who has probably had to suffer through my lame attempts to let him know that I am interested. Not that there have been many, if any at all.
I think this morning I smirked at him. I have a decent smile, you think I could have unleashed that, but he took me by surprise and my smile came out like a smirk. I don't even think teeth were involved. It was 9 A.M. I think I had one sip of coffee and I had my faces smashed into my hands trying to hold my head up right. I saw someone coming out of the corner of my eye and turned to see who it was. It was My Crush.
Eye contact.
Him-Cute, sheepish smile.
Me-frighteningly smooshed, closed lipped smirk, most likely accompanied by dear in headlights expression.
He goes through the door and I groan audibly. Spinster-hood here I come!
On my lunch break the Band Camp was having a chamber music concert and My Crush coaches one of the chamber groups. (In case you were wondering, I have forgiven My Crush for working for the band camp because he incredibly cute, which negates the band camp geek factor.) So I spy My Crush standing in the back watching the concert with the roommate, so I saunter casually out to he theater to "watch" My Crush, er, I mean the concert.
When I was out there I did a wonderful job of looking interested, clapping at the relevant times and breaks in the performance and making conversation with a woman who works in the communications.
What I really was doing was communicating telepathically to My Crush that I was interested and available. It didn't work. I don't know why I can't just get the nerve to ask him out. It works in my head.
"Crush, we're two single, healthy adults, I think we should get together and have drinks."
Crush looks pleasantly surprised, "I could feel a telepathic connection with you, but your beauty intimidated me and I was afraid you were out of my league."
Me, blushing modestly. "Crush you flatter me! Saturday at 8?"
"That would be perfect!" Crush grins broadly, like he has won the lottery. Which is what going out with me is akin to.
Of course again, that's all in my head.
In reality I will probably just smirk at him again tomorrow. Let us all cross our fingers that there is no drool.
Apartment Woes
I brought some little things over to the apartment last night. I have only been there twice before, so I was excited to see it a little cleaned up.
The first thing that I noticed when I walked in was the heavy odor of cigarettes, Marlboro Reds to be precise. The next thing I noticed was a slight man in the downstairs bathroom with a thick salt and pepper mustache and a heavy white apron. This was Peter our landlord. The one that has yet to finish our apartment. The downstairs bathroom is gutted, but we were told we had to move in on the 15th or no go. I greeted Peter and ran up stairs to J's room. He's the only one who had moved in so far.
I'm very annoyed that apartment was ready for the date that they said, but J is playing Mr. Nice guy and having beers with our alcoholic land lord and gets annoyed with us when we have the gall to express our annoyance with the unfinished work. There is no hot water, there are no washer and dryer, there is no gas and the stairs up to the third floor are not finished. They are uneven and have rough edges that I'm sure, being the graceful lady that I am, I will probably go head over heals one night.
Heaven forbid we complain though! J acts like a petulant child, short of folding his arms across his chest and sticking out his lower lip, thought I'm sure he's holding it all back. I understand how he wants to look at the potential of the apartment, but he doesn't listen to anyone else's advice or suggestions. We paid for a service that we have yet to receive. That is unacceptable and I don't care if the landlord is like a "big puppy dog" and he doesn't have the heart to be mean to him.
The only solace that I have is that I'm not moving in until the 29th. That bathroom better be ready by then and those stairs better be finished. I'm twenty-seven years old, this is not a frat house, this is our home and it should be in the condition that we were promised.
The plus side is that my room is much bigger than I remember it. I'm excited to be moved in, the the physical act of moving that I'm dreading.
J, P and I went to a bar that J declared is his new favorite, The Thirsty Scholar in Inman square. It was nice, but sitting w/with J and P I got the feeling that I'm going to missing female company very soon. I don't care that the waitresses' ass is like a shelf, I don't care that when the colleges are back in session this place is going to be "crawling with girls". Their one-tract minds are already exhausting.
The first time I hear any of them having sex is going to be miserable. I'm going to have to learn how to sleep with ear plugs.
Boys are gross!
The first thing that I noticed when I walked in was the heavy odor of cigarettes, Marlboro Reds to be precise. The next thing I noticed was a slight man in the downstairs bathroom with a thick salt and pepper mustache and a heavy white apron. This was Peter our landlord. The one that has yet to finish our apartment. The downstairs bathroom is gutted, but we were told we had to move in on the 15th or no go. I greeted Peter and ran up stairs to J's room. He's the only one who had moved in so far.
I'm very annoyed that apartment was ready for the date that they said, but J is playing Mr. Nice guy and having beers with our alcoholic land lord and gets annoyed with us when we have the gall to express our annoyance with the unfinished work. There is no hot water, there are no washer and dryer, there is no gas and the stairs up to the third floor are not finished. They are uneven and have rough edges that I'm sure, being the graceful lady that I am, I will probably go head over heals one night.
Heaven forbid we complain though! J acts like a petulant child, short of folding his arms across his chest and sticking out his lower lip, thought I'm sure he's holding it all back. I understand how he wants to look at the potential of the apartment, but he doesn't listen to anyone else's advice or suggestions. We paid for a service that we have yet to receive. That is unacceptable and I don't care if the landlord is like a "big puppy dog" and he doesn't have the heart to be mean to him.
The only solace that I have is that I'm not moving in until the 29th. That bathroom better be ready by then and those stairs better be finished. I'm twenty-seven years old, this is not a frat house, this is our home and it should be in the condition that we were promised.
The plus side is that my room is much bigger than I remember it. I'm excited to be moved in, the the physical act of moving that I'm dreading.
J, P and I went to a bar that J declared is his new favorite, The Thirsty Scholar in Inman square. It was nice, but sitting w/with J and P I got the feeling that I'm going to missing female company very soon. I don't care that the waitresses' ass is like a shelf, I don't care that when the colleges are back in session this place is going to be "crawling with girls". Their one-tract minds are already exhausting.
The first time I hear any of them having sex is going to be miserable. I'm going to have to learn how to sleep with ear plugs.
Boys are gross!
Monday, July 17, 2006
Feels Like I'm Seventeen Again
I have a crush.
I feel like such a dork, but that's the only thing that it can be characterized as. A full-blown crush. I actually blush and get nervous when I see him, and worst of all, he's a musician. Not a cool rocker type even, but a trumpet teacher at the place where I work. He's a coach at the band camp, and he teaches privately during the year. I've never really even seen him in this light until this week, but its very embarrassing. I would think I'm beyond this sort of behavior at the age of twenty seven, but apparently not.
I don't really know much about him except his roommate works here too. I snapped at his roommate last week because he called me a receptionist. G'damn it I am a registrar. That would be a GLORIFIED receptionist.
He's cute, tall and dark, and a trumpet player, so he's creative and musical and if you've ever tried to play a trumpet or anything that has a mouthpiece like a trumpet, you would know that he most likely has very strong...ummmm, hands. HaHa.
I feel like such a dork, but that's the only thing that it can be characterized as. A full-blown crush. I actually blush and get nervous when I see him, and worst of all, he's a musician. Not a cool rocker type even, but a trumpet teacher at the place where I work. He's a coach at the band camp, and he teaches privately during the year. I've never really even seen him in this light until this week, but its very embarrassing. I would think I'm beyond this sort of behavior at the age of twenty seven, but apparently not.
I don't really know much about him except his roommate works here too. I snapped at his roommate last week because he called me a receptionist. G'damn it I am a registrar. That would be a GLORIFIED receptionist.
He's cute, tall and dark, and a trumpet player, so he's creative and musical and if you've ever tried to play a trumpet or anything that has a mouthpiece like a trumpet, you would know that he most likely has very strong...ummmm, hands. HaHa.
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