Coffee Table Declarations
Tuesday, September 30, 2003
If anyone's looking for me, I've been moving into the new apartment. How is it possible to acquire so much stuff in such a short amount of time I wonder?
I will write more later if I manage to dig my way out of the pile of clothes, paper,crap belongings in general that seem to want to swallow me up and prevent me from ever living in my beautiful new place.
I will write more later if I manage to dig my way out of the pile of clothes, paper,
Friday, September 26, 2003
I'm sorry, but it seems that Friends has totally jumped the shark. Why have they made Monica into a total idiot? And are we really supposed to believe that Rachel is interested in Joey? I mean, of course I'll keep watching, but that doesn't mean I won't be annoyed.
O.K. has anyone else noticed that both CSI and CSI Miami use songs from the Who as their themes? I felt pretty clever to have noticed that.
Also, is it true that it's the kiss of death to move a show into a Friday night time slot? I hope not because I absolutely love Boston Public and if you're not watching it, you should be. Am I biased because there is finally a show about Boston that doesn't portray Bostonians as all speaking unintelligibly?? Perhaps. It's on tonight at 9pm if you want to decide for yourself.
O.K. has anyone else noticed that both CSI and CSI Miami use songs from the Who as their themes? I felt pretty clever to have noticed that.
Also, is it true that it's the kiss of death to move a show into a Friday night time slot? I hope not because I absolutely love Boston Public and if you're not watching it, you should be. Am I biased because there is finally a show about Boston that doesn't portray Bostonians as all speaking unintelligibly?? Perhaps. It's on tonight at 9pm if you want to decide for yourself.
Thursday, September 25, 2003
There was some drama in my neighborhood last night. When I stepped out of the shower, colored lights were flashing through my living room. I looked out my window and saw two firetrucks right outside, one with it's ladder extended to what appeared to be the window directly below mine. There was a large crowd gathering on the street which was currently blocked off by police cars. The people all seemed to be staring up at my building. I thought for a moment. Could my building be on fire? Were these fire-personnel about to climb up that ladder and instruct me to climb down with them? Should I be at all concerned?
I threw on some clothes and went outside to see what was going on. I spoke to a woman on the street who told me that the salon next door to my building had burnt down. When I looked, I saw that the ladder was extended below my window, and across to the roof of the salon. It was a complete mess. Luckily no one had been inside.
Fire scares me. You wouldn't know it considering that I have 8000 candles all over the place. Or the fact that I am always using my curling iron before racing out of the house for work, never completely sure I remembered to unplug it before leaving. Or the fact that just last week I accidentally left my oven on all night and all the next day. (That's a completely true story - I was quite shocked to come home and find the kitchen exceptionally warm.)
What is really creepy is that I had been oblivously showering at the very moment that my building could have been being evacuated. Also, if you opened my bedroom window, you could spit on that salon if you wanted to (though why you would want to, I don't know). It's that close - about three feet. At least I wasn't showing the apartment last night.
I threw on some clothes and went outside to see what was going on. I spoke to a woman on the street who told me that the salon next door to my building had burnt down. When I looked, I saw that the ladder was extended below my window, and across to the roof of the salon. It was a complete mess. Luckily no one had been inside.
Fire scares me. You wouldn't know it considering that I have 8000 candles all over the place. Or the fact that I am always using my curling iron before racing out of the house for work, never completely sure I remembered to unplug it before leaving. Or the fact that just last week I accidentally left my oven on all night and all the next day. (That's a completely true story - I was quite shocked to come home and find the kitchen exceptionally warm.)
What is really creepy is that I had been oblivously showering at the very moment that my building could have been being evacuated. Also, if you opened my bedroom window, you could spit on that salon if you wanted to (though why you would want to, I don't know). It's that close - about three feet. At least I wasn't showing the apartment last night.
Wednesday, September 24, 2003
The other night at the grocery store I accidentally ran over my toe with the shopping cart. It hurt so bad that I wanted to scream out obscenities but I didn't. I continued down the aisle, trying to shake it off, but my toe persisted in hurting. I looked down and saw deep red blood gushing across my toe and seeping into my sandel. All kinds of thoughts went through my head like, bacteria, infection, hospital, emergency.
However, I gathered my wits about me and approached the customer service desk. I pasted a smile on my face as I waited patiently behind an old lady trying to decide which two dozen or so scratch tickets to buy. Finally it was my turn and I calmly asked for a band-aid and some rubbing alcohol. The kid behind the counter handed me a small packet of antibacterial ointment and a Sponge Bob Squarepants band-aid that said "oops" on it. I hastily squatted down in front of the booth to attend to my injury. Ointment and band aid applied, I proceeded on my way. I wish I could say Sponge Bob made me feel better. Unfortunately however, if I walked normally, the band-aid got pushed by my sandel and caused painful friction on my toe. Therefore, I had to limp slowly through the remainder of the store.
When I finally got back to my building there was no place to park. I ended up across a busy street and up the block. Not wanting to make two trips, I decided (crazily) that I could get all the groceries at once. As a creepy guy sitting on a parked motorcycle nearby watched lecherously, I dumped my grocery bags out of the car and onto the street. Then I hung them up and down both arms and attempted to limp slowly across the street.
Halfway to my building I had a sinking feeling that I wasn't going to make it. The bags were so heavy and my toe hurt so much, I wanted to collapse on the sidewalk and tell the groceries to go on without me. I'm sure I made quite the comic sight hobbling down the street in a cloud of bags. I did make it of course, into the building and up three flights of stairs. When I counted the bags, there were fourteen total and if I had to guess how much they weighed altogether, I would not be surprised if it was at least half as much as me.
I think I'm going to go back to getting take out every night. It's less dangerous.
However, I gathered my wits about me and approached the customer service desk. I pasted a smile on my face as I waited patiently behind an old lady trying to decide which two dozen or so scratch tickets to buy. Finally it was my turn and I calmly asked for a band-aid and some rubbing alcohol. The kid behind the counter handed me a small packet of antibacterial ointment and a Sponge Bob Squarepants band-aid that said "oops" on it. I hastily squatted down in front of the booth to attend to my injury. Ointment and band aid applied, I proceeded on my way. I wish I could say Sponge Bob made me feel better. Unfortunately however, if I walked normally, the band-aid got pushed by my sandel and caused painful friction on my toe. Therefore, I had to limp slowly through the remainder of the store.
When I finally got back to my building there was no place to park. I ended up across a busy street and up the block. Not wanting to make two trips, I decided (crazily) that I could get all the groceries at once. As a creepy guy sitting on a parked motorcycle nearby watched lecherously, I dumped my grocery bags out of the car and onto the street. Then I hung them up and down both arms and attempted to limp slowly across the street.
Halfway to my building I had a sinking feeling that I wasn't going to make it. The bags were so heavy and my toe hurt so much, I wanted to collapse on the sidewalk and tell the groceries to go on without me. I'm sure I made quite the comic sight hobbling down the street in a cloud of bags. I did make it of course, into the building and up three flights of stairs. When I counted the bags, there were fourteen total and if I had to guess how much they weighed altogether, I would not be surprised if it was at least half as much as me.
I think I'm going to go back to getting take out every night. It's less dangerous.
Tuesday, September 23, 2003
For some reason on Saturday alone, I saw three separate individuals, at three separate times and in three separate places, riding rascal scooters. The thing is, these people were not riding calmly down the sidewalk, like you might expect. They were riding their rascals in the road like cars, waiting at red lights, going on green, etc. Sure, they were following the proper driving protocol, but still I have to wonder how safe that is, both for the rascal rider and the people who are diverted from driving to ponder the safety and absurdity of a rascal in the road.
Monday, September 22, 2003
ow... wrist hurts... typing is painful....
Don't you hate the people who stay at work no matter how sick they are and everyone acts like they're making some noble sacrifice and they are so dedicated to their jobs, yet meanwhile, they ruin it for everyone, making you feel like you can't go home if you don't feel well...
"Hmmm, well she dragged herself in and worked a 14 hour day despite having tuberculosis, appendicitis, 105 bee stings, and the bubonic plague, so I suppose it might be frowned upon if I wanted to go home, seeing as I have some sort of wrist injury and a particularly queasy feeling in my stomach."
The above is true. Well, the part about my wrist and stomach anyway. I feel yucky. And I hate Mondays.
Don't you hate the people who stay at work no matter how sick they are and everyone acts like they're making some noble sacrifice and they are so dedicated to their jobs, yet meanwhile, they ruin it for everyone, making you feel like you can't go home if you don't feel well...
"Hmmm, well she dragged herself in and worked a 14 hour day despite having tuberculosis, appendicitis, 105 bee stings, and the bubonic plague, so I suppose it might be frowned upon if I wanted to go home, seeing as I have some sort of wrist injury and a particularly queasy feeling in my stomach."
The above is true. Well, the part about my wrist and stomach anyway. I feel yucky. And I hate Mondays.
Friday, September 19, 2003
"To sleep, perchance to dream" - William Shakespeare
I have been having very vivid dreams lately. The night before last, I dreamed that I was working part time in the evenings in the Dunkin Donuts on the first floor of my apartment building. That wasn't so bad because they all know me in there and they close at the early hour of 9pm (which I might add, would ONLY be good if you worked there. Most other times it downright sucks). However, I wasn't getting paid very much and I kept thinking, "How has it come to this?"
Last night I was designing new fashion trends in my sleep. It's going to sound weird but, people were coating the top part of their fingers in glittery powder and then wearing clear gloves over that so you could see the glitter but it wouldn't rub off. I can't really describe it but it looked cool. It would be great if trendy new fashion ideas were filtered into my subconscious every night and then I could create my own fashion line and become famous.
I wish I had inspirational dreams all the time. Then it would be easy to create art, compose songs, and most importantly, write. I wish ideas and revelations would come to me in my sleep. That does happen sometimes. A lot of great artists attribute things to their dreams. It's happened to me before, but only once in a great while. And most of the time, I find that I compose excellent poetry during those few moments when I am just drifting off, and then I can only remember bits and pieces of it later. The mind is fascinating. If only we knew how to harvest the potential of our dreams.
I have been having very vivid dreams lately. The night before last, I dreamed that I was working part time in the evenings in the Dunkin Donuts on the first floor of my apartment building. That wasn't so bad because they all know me in there and they close at the early hour of 9pm (which I might add, would ONLY be good if you worked there. Most other times it downright sucks). However, I wasn't getting paid very much and I kept thinking, "How has it come to this?"
Last night I was designing new fashion trends in my sleep. It's going to sound weird but, people were coating the top part of their fingers in glittery powder and then wearing clear gloves over that so you could see the glitter but it wouldn't rub off. I can't really describe it but it looked cool. It would be great if trendy new fashion ideas were filtered into my subconscious every night and then I could create my own fashion line and become famous.
I wish I had inspirational dreams all the time. Then it would be easy to create art, compose songs, and most importantly, write. I wish ideas and revelations would come to me in my sleep. That does happen sometimes. A lot of great artists attribute things to their dreams. It's happened to me before, but only once in a great while. And most of the time, I find that I compose excellent poetry during those few moments when I am just drifting off, and then I can only remember bits and pieces of it later. The mind is fascinating. If only we knew how to harvest the potential of our dreams.
Wednesday, September 17, 2003
Whenever someone here gets a package, I send them a little email so they will know and come retrieve it. The email is just a generic "there's something here for you" and the subject line is generally, "Fed Ex delivery" or "UPS delivery". The funny thing is, I find myself time and time again, trying to type "devilry" instead. Not even sure if this was an actual word, I looked it up on dictionary.com and found that it is a variant of "deviltry" which basically means (in it's lighter definition), reckless mischief.
Therefore an email entitled "Fed Ex devilry" would go something like this: "Dear Coworker, Recently, as you may be aware, there have been several reported instances of Fed Ex devilry. This devilry has taken the form of packages arriving full of empty candy wrappers and sheep eyeballs, as well as the Fed Ex man arriving, on occasion, dressed up in a gorilla suit instead of the standard Fed Ex uniform. This devilry, though harmless, is an example of reckless mischief and certainly somewhat of a distraction from productivity. The proper avenues are being persued in order to put an end to this Fed Ex devilry so that we can get back to an atmosphere of business-as-usual. Thanks for your attention to this matter, signed: your coworker."
Therefore an email entitled "Fed Ex devilry" would go something like this: "Dear Coworker, Recently, as you may be aware, there have been several reported instances of Fed Ex devilry. This devilry has taken the form of packages arriving full of empty candy wrappers and sheep eyeballs, as well as the Fed Ex man arriving, on occasion, dressed up in a gorilla suit instead of the standard Fed Ex uniform. This devilry, though harmless, is an example of reckless mischief and certainly somewhat of a distraction from productivity. The proper avenues are being persued in order to put an end to this Fed Ex devilry so that we can get back to an atmosphere of business-as-usual. Thanks for your attention to this matter, signed: your coworker."
Tuesday, September 16, 2003
My work-friend and I enjoy playing tricks on the CEO but I swear she started it. It all began when she unwrapped a Tootsie pop from the candy dish on my desk. It was all crunched up and she decided to take something else instead. But instead of throwing away the crunched up Tootsie pop, the CEO put it back in the bowl to see if anyone would notice. My work-friend noticed and we had a laugh over it. Then he decided to get back at her by folding the wrapper of a Hershey's miniature back into a square so she would take it not knowing it was empty. I don't know who ended up taking it (what a rude shock - returning to your desk, settling in for a little chocolate indulgence, and then finding yourself with an empty wrapper!), but the CEO never got it. She laughed hysterically when I told her about it and in response, put a squished up tootsie roll in the bowl for my work-friend to find.
Meanwhile, I have to sit here and explain to everyone who asks about these anomalous pieces of candy that it's for a joke and just to leave it there, even though it does look gross. Stranger than that however, are the people who don't say a word, just calmly reach around the offending piece, and take a normal one.
As I write this now the bowl contains, in addition to the prerequisite candy, an oreo cookie, a small packet of pepper, and a potato chip. I think this game is getting a little out of hand. Next thing I know, there is going to be a giant beetle or a sheep eyeball in there and I cannot be held responsible if someone eats one of those by accident.
* * * * *
As a post script to the above entry, as I was writing, the VP of HR happened by, and wanted to get in on the joke. She one-upped us all by taking a bite out of the oreo (!) and putting it back! I am giggling to myself just looking at it sitting there!!
Meanwhile, I have to sit here and explain to everyone who asks about these anomalous pieces of candy that it's for a joke and just to leave it there, even though it does look gross. Stranger than that however, are the people who don't say a word, just calmly reach around the offending piece, and take a normal one.
As I write this now the bowl contains, in addition to the prerequisite candy, an oreo cookie, a small packet of pepper, and a potato chip. I think this game is getting a little out of hand. Next thing I know, there is going to be a giant beetle or a sheep eyeball in there and I cannot be held responsible if someone eats one of those by accident.
* * * * *
As a post script to the above entry, as I was writing, the VP of HR happened by, and wanted to get in on the joke. She one-upped us all by taking a bite out of the oreo (!) and putting it back! I am giggling to myself just looking at it sitting there!!
Monday, September 15, 2003
Last week was quite a week. What with my car breaking down, my sister ending up in the hospital for two days (she is o.k. don't worry!), the anniversary of September 11th, one of my all time favorite actors dropping dead, and the anniversary of my grandmother's death, it was quite a strange and stressful week indeed.
Today I just want to take a moment to celebrate a new week and the new Dunkin Donuts Latte. I could not find a link, but I swear they exist - I'm drinking one now and so should you if you get the chance.
Today I just want to take a moment to celebrate a new week and the new Dunkin Donuts Latte. I could not find a link, but I swear they exist - I'm drinking one now and so should you if you get the chance.
Saturday, September 13, 2003
I miss my grandmother and think of her often. She always called me "#1 girl" because I was her first grandchild. She had a great sense of humor and enjoyed the little things in life. She would tell me with enthusiasm how much she loved to get letters and how much she enjoyed having plants. Just little things. She could also make the little things fun - even mundane activities. When I was little I would sometimes help her peel apples and she showed me how to hang the long curly peels from my ears to make silly earrings.
As an assignment for my college Women's Studies class I interviewed her about her life. I loved hearing her stories about "the olden days" and how different things were. For example, she and her brother had saved their money and bought their first car for $100. There was an often told story about how when she was younger she once had two different men ask her out on a date for the same night. And she made lifelong friends where ever she went. For example, one of the people she counted as a friend was the woman she had shared a hospital room with when giving birth to my uncle 50 years earlier. That's the kind of person she was.
She was so strong and never scared of anything, even at the end. The last time I saw her we knew that she was dying. I told her that I wanted to wear her wedding dress when I get married. She was happy to hear that and told me to try on the dress and have my father take pictures so I could show them to her when we came to visit the following Sunday. We never got to visit. Instead she died that Sunday and I put the pictures in her coffin with her.
My grandmother died five years ago today. Her absence still hits me hard sometimes. I can't believe she's been gone so long. I can't believe she's never coming back. With each passing year her death just feels more permenant instead of becoming easier to deal with. I can feel the growing distance between us and I'm so afraid that someday it won't be so easy to remember what she was like.
As an assignment for my college Women's Studies class I interviewed her about her life. I loved hearing her stories about "the olden days" and how different things were. For example, she and her brother had saved their money and bought their first car for $100. There was an often told story about how when she was younger she once had two different men ask her out on a date for the same night. And she made lifelong friends where ever she went. For example, one of the people she counted as a friend was the woman she had shared a hospital room with when giving birth to my uncle 50 years earlier. That's the kind of person she was.
She was so strong and never scared of anything, even at the end. The last time I saw her we knew that she was dying. I told her that I wanted to wear her wedding dress when I get married. She was happy to hear that and told me to try on the dress and have my father take pictures so I could show them to her when we came to visit the following Sunday. We never got to visit. Instead she died that Sunday and I put the pictures in her coffin with her.
My grandmother died five years ago today. Her absence still hits me hard sometimes. I can't believe she's been gone so long. I can't believe she's never coming back. With each passing year her death just feels more permenant instead of becoming easier to deal with. I can feel the growing distance between us and I'm so afraid that someday it won't be so easy to remember what she was like.
Friday, September 12, 2003
Early this morning when I was still in bed and listening to the news on the radio, they said that two celebrities died over night. One was Johnny Cash. Now, no offense, but I honestly did not know that Johnny Cash was still alive. I know his wife died recently, but I thought he had died before her. This announcement therefore, was not so shocking to me.
But John Ritter? John Ritter?! How can John Ritter be dead? He is young, he has a successful new show, he is Jack Tripper for goodness sakes. Plus, he is a nice guy, a funny guy, a guy who seems to be everywhere, appearing in endless movies and tv shows.
I was too young for Three's Company when it came out originally. However, I have been an avid fan ever since it debuted on Nick at Nite. I also really enjoyed his new show even though I never did figure out what the 8 rules actually were.
This is just so sad and so unbelievable.
But John Ritter? John Ritter?! How can John Ritter be dead? He is young, he has a successful new show, he is Jack Tripper for goodness sakes. Plus, he is a nice guy, a funny guy, a guy who seems to be everywhere, appearing in endless movies and tv shows.
I was too young for Three's Company when it came out originally. However, I have been an avid fan ever since it debuted on Nick at Nite. I also really enjoyed his new show even though I never did figure out what the 8 rules actually were.
This is just so sad and so unbelievable.
This is very sad news.
Thursday, September 11, 2003
It's hard to believe that it's been two years already. It feels like yesterday and it feels like ages ago. I am amazed by how much life has returned to "normal" and I can remember thinking that it never would. I can remember thinking that it would be impossible to get past it and move on.
I find it strange how very little I have heard about September 11th today. I don't know if people want to simply ignore it or if they have forgotten the way it felt that day, but I think it's important to remember.
September 11, 2001 was a day that changed everything. Do you remember where you were that day? What you were doing? How you felt? Take a moment and think about it. I remember being at work and watching events play out along with my coworkers. I remember the shock, the fear, and the sadness that I felt that day. I remember being so utterly unable to comprehend the strength of such hatred. And in the aftermath, I remember my faith being restored by those willing to sacrifice their own lives to save others.
This is not going to become some cliched entry about patriotism or terrorism or heroism. I don't need to randomly pontificate about the state of the world, or divulge my opinions of human nature. My goal is much simpler than that. I just want to say one thing: I remember.
I find it strange how very little I have heard about September 11th today. I don't know if people want to simply ignore it or if they have forgotten the way it felt that day, but I think it's important to remember.
September 11, 2001 was a day that changed everything. Do you remember where you were that day? What you were doing? How you felt? Take a moment and think about it. I remember being at work and watching events play out along with my coworkers. I remember the shock, the fear, and the sadness that I felt that day. I remember being so utterly unable to comprehend the strength of such hatred. And in the aftermath, I remember my faith being restored by those willing to sacrifice their own lives to save others.
This is not going to become some cliched entry about patriotism or terrorism or heroism. I don't need to randomly pontificate about the state of the world, or divulge my opinions of human nature. My goal is much simpler than that. I just want to say one thing: I remember.
Wednesday, September 10, 2003
It's time for Katie's movie reviews!
I saw this one which was apparently a true story and was very sweet. I recommend it if you like to see triumphant stories of overcoming the odds. It made me smile to myself on more than one occasion, and that makes it a feel-good movie in my book.
I also saw this one which I liked very much. It was interesting to see things from a different perspective, and the main character is a really stong and inspirational person. After seeing this movie, you will feel empowered!
The next one on my rental list is going to be this one which I hear is really funny. Look for the review, coming soon!
P.S. If you ever happen to take any of my recommendations and watch any of the movies I've mentioned in Katie's movie reviews, I would love to hear your opinion - whether you agree or disagree.
I saw this one which was apparently a true story and was very sweet. I recommend it if you like to see triumphant stories of overcoming the odds. It made me smile to myself on more than one occasion, and that makes it a feel-good movie in my book.
I also saw this one which I liked very much. It was interesting to see things from a different perspective, and the main character is a really stong and inspirational person. After seeing this movie, you will feel empowered!
The next one on my rental list is going to be this one which I hear is really funny. Look for the review, coming soon!
P.S. If you ever happen to take any of my recommendations and watch any of the movies I've mentioned in Katie's movie reviews, I would love to hear your opinion - whether you agree or disagree.
Tuesday, September 09, 2003
The fish cannibalism has to stop.
I haven't written about my office fish friends in a while, and I've gotten inquiries about their wellbeing. My poor little sick tomato clown was taken away by the fish man (i.e., the man who cleans and maintains our tank and has a deep vested interest in the health and happiness of each fish) and has not returned although the man claims that my friend is still hanging in there. I miss him (the fish, not the fish man).
Last week the fish man brought two new clown fish, a new tomato clown and a black percula clown . Suddenly I sound like an ichthyologist. Or maybe I was just waiting for an excuse to throw the word "ichthyologist" in here.
On Friday, the percula clown was missing. I thought perhaps he was just hiding. However, when I came in yesterday, he was still nowhere to be found. I'm a little concerned. You see, I've seen this happen before. Sometimes a fish dies and then the other fishes eat him. Little sickos.
I haven't written about my office fish friends in a while, and I've gotten inquiries about their wellbeing. My poor little sick tomato clown was taken away by the fish man (i.e., the man who cleans and maintains our tank and has a deep vested interest in the health and happiness of each fish) and has not returned although the man claims that my friend is still hanging in there. I miss him (the fish, not the fish man).
Last week the fish man brought two new clown fish, a new tomato clown and a black percula clown . Suddenly I sound like an ichthyologist. Or maybe I was just waiting for an excuse to throw the word "ichthyologist" in here.
On Friday, the percula clown was missing. I thought perhaps he was just hiding. However, when I came in yesterday, he was still nowhere to be found. I'm a little concerned. You see, I've seen this happen before. Sometimes a fish dies and then the other fishes eat him. Little sickos.
Monday, September 08, 2003
I have met many people in my search for a new roommate and inevitably, there have been some strange encounters. Here are a couple of the more humorous yet perplexing ones.
In my ads I put a preferred age range - mid-twenties to mid-thirties. Someone named Vera responded to my ad, and we set a time for her to come and see the apartment. When she showed up on my doorstep, I had a sneaking suspicion that there was no way she was within my age range. I kept thinking to myself, "Could she be in her mid to late thirties?" but I knew that would be a huge stretch if not impossible. However, I politely proceeded to show her the apartment and then we sat down to chat. Over the course of our conversation she said, "I'm old enough to be your mother". "I'm 27", I replied, hoping that she would volunteer her age. She said, "I'm still old enough to be your mother."
I also looked at a few apartments so I could leave my options open. I corresponded via email with a girl named Denise. I was hoping to find a female roommate around my age and I got every impression that she was. We made plans for me to see her place. I brought a discriminating person along with me so I would have a second opinion. On the way there he asked me if Denise had any pets and I said that I didn't ask, but assumed not because I clearly stated in my ad that I didn't want to live with pets. (I am allergic.) We no sooner arrive at the front door when a little dog came bounding toward us. Then we were greeted by a guy who told us "Dennis isn't here." Dennis?? I had been emailing with Denise. And who was this guy? And why was there a dog?
A girl approached us and picked up the dog. She explained that she was the roommate moving out and the dog was going with her. After a good deal of detective work (observations made of the apartment, conversational clues, and outright interregation), we were able to determine that the guy was the landlord and that Dennis was a girl with a guy's name. Well do you think maybe they could've explained that all to us up front? Maybe?
In my ads I put a preferred age range - mid-twenties to mid-thirties. Someone named Vera responded to my ad, and we set a time for her to come and see the apartment. When she showed up on my doorstep, I had a sneaking suspicion that there was no way she was within my age range. I kept thinking to myself, "Could she be in her mid to late thirties?" but I knew that would be a huge stretch if not impossible. However, I politely proceeded to show her the apartment and then we sat down to chat. Over the course of our conversation she said, "I'm old enough to be your mother". "I'm 27", I replied, hoping that she would volunteer her age. She said, "I'm still old enough to be your mother."
I also looked at a few apartments so I could leave my options open. I corresponded via email with a girl named Denise. I was hoping to find a female roommate around my age and I got every impression that she was. We made plans for me to see her place. I brought a discriminating person along with me so I would have a second opinion. On the way there he asked me if Denise had any pets and I said that I didn't ask, but assumed not because I clearly stated in my ad that I didn't want to live with pets. (I am allergic.) We no sooner arrive at the front door when a little dog came bounding toward us. Then we were greeted by a guy who told us "Dennis isn't here." Dennis?? I had been emailing with Denise. And who was this guy? And why was there a dog?
A girl approached us and picked up the dog. She explained that she was the roommate moving out and the dog was going with her. After a good deal of detective work (observations made of the apartment, conversational clues, and outright interregation), we were able to determine that the guy was the landlord and that Dennis was a girl with a guy's name. Well do you think maybe they could've explained that all to us up front? Maybe?
Friday, September 05, 2003
Is it me or is blogger having problems today??? I typed a nice long entry about roommate hunting and then it disappeared. Then as a consolation, I wrote about some tidbits from my day. I went to publish it, and wham! Just like that, it's gone too. Therefore, you can thank blogger for today's disappointing lack of content.
Thursday, September 04, 2003
Out of a strong sense of nostalgia, I recently bought a metal Care Bears lunchbox to keep make-up in. This morning I was running late and it was raining. So I grabbed my lunchbox as I ran out the door, prepared to apply my make-up enroute. I realized as I was walking down my high-traffic street heading for my car, how truly cute I must have looked with the hood of my red rain jacket pulled over my head, my blue and white umbrella and Care Bear lunchbox in hand. Then I realized in horror, after a near miss, how easy it is for metal lunchboxes to pop open, their contents spilling out. I could envision my make-up exploding into the air and falling into the wet street as I clambored to gather it all up and make it to work on time. Suddenly instead of a fond nostalgia for metal lunchboxes of yesteryear, I was having nightmarish childhood flashbacks of thermoses flying through the air, oranges rolling down the street, and peanut butter and jelly sandwiches landing in a squished heap on the road.
You would not believe how many hits I get based on the following search: "how to draw a palm tree". I had not realized there were so many people out there in desperate need of such tutelage. There must be some way to capitalize on this need. I could provide lessons, or something.
Wednesday, September 03, 2003
WHAT I DID ON MY SUMMER VACATION, by Katie
I watched some movies (Katie's movie review coming soon), interviewed potential roommates (separate entry on this topic coming soon), hung out with my roommate for her last week here (this included a group of girls, taco dip, and a rousing story about an eight-minute dating experience gone awry from one of the visiting girls; a marathon shopping spree - one mall, four floors, five hours, you do the math; dulche de leche cheesecake; and a back breaking, sweat inducing, truck filling endeavor successfully attempted by me, two other friends, my roommate, and said roommate's dad) I guess I can stop referring to her as my roommate now, huh?
The other thing I did on my vacation was almost go swimming, and almost go canoeing. The one thing I wanted to do more than anything on my vacation was go swimming. So we donned our swim suits, drove to a public pool, and found a nasty surprise. The pool had been emptied of water. Undaunted, we drove to the next closest public pool only to find the same situation. Spirits sinking, we went to a local state office to inquire if all of the state owned public pools were closed (they were) and if so, why (budget cuts thanks to our wonderful new incompetant governor). They are usually open until Labor Day so this was entirely unexpected.
We were advised at the state office that we could go canoeing if we wanted to instead. I was excited. After all, I haven't gone canoeing since I was in Girl Scouts many years ago. So, the next day, we headed out only to find that the public canoeing was only open on the weekend due to above mentioned budget cuts. Apparently when you're rich, it is easy to forget the little people in the state who have no alternate access to swimming or recreation, beyond what is provided publicly.
Anyway, the rest of my vacation proved to be quite enjoyable, including a trip to our favorite Mexican restaurant, a few picnics, and generally nice weather. I'm left with just one question - how long do I have to wait before asking my work for more time off?
I watched some movies (Katie's movie review coming soon), interviewed potential roommates (separate entry on this topic coming soon), hung out with my roommate for her last week here (this included a group of girls, taco dip, and a rousing story about an eight-minute dating experience gone awry from one of the visiting girls; a marathon shopping spree - one mall, four floors, five hours, you do the math; dulche de leche cheesecake; and a back breaking, sweat inducing, truck filling endeavor successfully attempted by me, two other friends, my roommate, and said roommate's dad) I guess I can stop referring to her as my roommate now, huh?
The other thing I did on my vacation was almost go swimming, and almost go canoeing. The one thing I wanted to do more than anything on my vacation was go swimming. So we donned our swim suits, drove to a public pool, and found a nasty surprise. The pool had been emptied of water. Undaunted, we drove to the next closest public pool only to find the same situation. Spirits sinking, we went to a local state office to inquire if all of the state owned public pools were closed (they were) and if so, why (budget cuts thanks to our wonderful new incompetant governor). They are usually open until Labor Day so this was entirely unexpected.
We were advised at the state office that we could go canoeing if we wanted to instead. I was excited. After all, I haven't gone canoeing since I was in Girl Scouts many years ago. So, the next day, we headed out only to find that the public canoeing was only open on the weekend due to above mentioned budget cuts. Apparently when you're rich, it is easy to forget the little people in the state who have no alternate access to swimming or recreation, beyond what is provided publicly.
Anyway, the rest of my vacation proved to be quite enjoyable, including a trip to our favorite Mexican restaurant, a few picnics, and generally nice weather. I'm left with just one question - how long do I have to wait before asking my work for more time off?
Tuesday, September 02, 2003
Argh! Why am I back at work already?? I had 25 new emails to go through and respond to, and the phone will not stop ringing. And is it a bad sign that I feel like I never left for vacation at all?
