After a finance charge fiasco this month, followed by an irritating phone call to Chase I found out that there are so many things that can affect your credit score by going to this webpage:
http://www.privacyrights.org/fs/fs6c-CreditScores.htm
The problem being, first and foremost, that I had to go to this website, because she didn't answer my questions, just tried to tell me to sign up for a plan that would send my score with each monthly statement. I mean, all I asked the woman on the other end of the line was what this might do to my credit score, and could I get a copy of my credit report? It turns out, requesting a copy of your score can lower it! ???!
I spent all morning trying to cancel my payment protector plan (they conned me into using them for four more months since I get to use the service free because of my recent move, but I'm cancelling as soon as this particular statement is paid off), and then I had to contest the finance charge. Chase-lady told me I could avoid "problems like this in the future" if I signed up for all sorts of things I was not interested in. I was severely offended by the way she said problems, but like a lot of things in my life these days I might have been projecting. That didn't stop me from being rude (granted, this was after 12 minutes of not being rude, which were what led to my having to be rude) when I forcibly hung up on her, basically telling her, "look lady, I'm not interested okay? Thank you for your time. Goodbye" *click*
The money-related phone call debacle of '06 ended on a very positive note, though.
I called Sephora to report my stolen gift card. The one that was in my wallet when I lost it so many months ago? Well, the card hasn't been used, which is both a relief and a bummer since it means my wallet may have been tossed in the garbage or something. Anyway, using the partial number off of an old reciept from New York (dated 25 February 2005! HA! Pay dirt! I knew being an excessive packrat would benefit me one day!), they cancelled the old card and issued me a new one with a little bit more money!
I love Sephora.
31 July 2006
You Teach By Example
All of our windows are open these days, allowing for a cool breeze to waft through the apartment, along with various unseemly noises, apparently.
This morning, one of the landlady's adult grandchildren was visiting (the landlady is 96). The woman had brought her child to say hello to great-grandma, and grandma had given the child some money.
The mother kept telling her child to "say thank you," which is commendable. You should teach your children to say "thank you." The lesson went horribly astray when mom started teaching the child to be a screaming harpie bitch. In increasingly more annoyed tones, she was telling the child to "Say thank you. Stand up and say thank you. I'll wait. Say thank you. Stand up and say thank you. Say thank you, or [grandma] isn't going to like you. Say thank you. STAND UP AND SAY THANK YOU. That's it [grandma] doesn't like you anymore. Aren't you going to say thank you?"
Grandma doesn't like you anymore?! WTF? I was so frustrated with the situation that I wanted to run downstairs and say, "Thank you," for the kid. Clearly she's used to her mother's brain defect since it didn't seem to bother her.
I reatreated into the back of the house, vowing to try not to be like that with my children, and I didn't know whether to be sad for the little girl, or start laughing at the whole family.
This morning, one of the landlady's adult grandchildren was visiting (the landlady is 96). The woman had brought her child to say hello to great-grandma, and grandma had given the child some money.
The mother kept telling her child to "say thank you," which is commendable. You should teach your children to say "thank you." The lesson went horribly astray when mom started teaching the child to be a screaming harpie bitch. In increasingly more annoyed tones, she was telling the child to "Say thank you. Stand up and say thank you. I'll wait. Say thank you. Stand up and say thank you. Say thank you, or [grandma] isn't going to like you. Say thank you. STAND UP AND SAY THANK YOU. That's it [grandma] doesn't like you anymore. Aren't you going to say thank you?"
Grandma doesn't like you anymore?! WTF? I was so frustrated with the situation that I wanted to run downstairs and say, "Thank you," for the kid. Clearly she's used to her mother's brain defect since it didn't seem to bother her.
I reatreated into the back of the house, vowing to try not to be like that with my children, and I didn't know whether to be sad for the little girl, or start laughing at the whole family.
Anglophilia
Sometimes, I get this crazy idea in my head that British guys are just inherently more hot than American guys. This simply isn't true. I've been to England. They're not all hot.But the hot ones? MAN ALIVE. The hot ones are super hot. I think it's the accent.
I remember this boy, Tom, who was working with me at SOM. He was beautiful. He was British, naturally, and I think that added something to it, but he was beautiful all on his own -- with or without the accent.
He kind of looked like Syd Barrett in this photo here. Only, you know, this was taken in 1976, so at the time in 2005, Tom was much hotter than Syd Barrett.
30 July 2006
I've Always Had Excellent Timing. Except When I Didn't.
"It's a good thing I got this job when I did. This next week is my last week of Unemployment benefits."
"Wow. That's working the system to its fullest. Congrats."
[Currently Spinning: The Divine Comedy - My Lovely Horse]
"Wow. That's working the system to its fullest. Congrats."
[Currently Spinning: The Divine Comedy - My Lovely Horse]
A Tremendous Fear of Stamps
Ardal O'Hanlon is a pretty funny guy, but my favorite is his role as Dougal on Father Ted. BBC America is full of lies, though. I've never seen Father Ted on their 11 o'clock block, and soon my days of staying up past 11:00 will be over, anyway.
I guess I can always buy the dvd set.
29 July 2006
Lucky Little Girl!
Squee! This is probably the most adorable thing I've ever seen on YouTube. I'll bet Benji's a really good teacher (*wink*, squee!, *sigh*, *melts*)
Speaking of Benji and his cuteness, August 12th is when tickets go on sale for the SYTYCD tour. The tour passes through B-town on the 7th of October at the Wang theatre. Jen has already promised to go with me, and if you're around, you should go too-oo. It's going to be so awesome. I don't know what to wear, though. Maybe my "Please Marry Me Benji" sandwich board.
October 7th should give me enough time to lose the weight that I put on when I was unemployed, since I joined the Boston Sports Club today. I'm very excited about this. Aside from being two blocks away from the office where my NEW JOB will be, it offers yoga classes after work hours! The steam room in the locker room doesn't hurt at all, either.
Did I Ever Have the Self Respect to Say, "It's Over" Before? So Why Didn't You Believe Me?
I finally cut college boyfriend out of my life. I know that I've already told a few of my friends, and I don't know whether or not they believed me, because I didn't believe me at first. When I talked to my mother about it, I was calm and rational, so she believed me, but we also used words like "for now," and "until a better time."
I don't think I need him any more, even though I thought I did for a while. He was a good friend sometimes, but more often than not, he was selfish and just plain mean. I know he didn't mean to be, because he's a "nice guy,"* and all, but he was pretty much the worst specimen of ex-boyfriend I've ever had to deal with (*nice guy, not only in the way that most guys can be described as a "nice guy," but also in the way that means that he's afraid of conflict and will be an accidental asshole rather than have the balls to do the right thing if it means being "mean" in the conventional sense).
I've had ex-boyfriends tell me that the only reason I was at MIT was because of affirmative action (when I knew their SAT scores and class rank weren't as good as mine). I had a boyfriend use the last leg of our relationship as a means to hit on one of my friends. I had another boyfriend who borrowed money from me on a consistent basis.
None of them were remotely as bad for me as college boyfriend; none of them hurt me nearly as much as he did.
And he had the audacity to parade around pretending to be my friend, sending me music and calling me when he was bored. He doesn't have time for a relationship right now, but if he did, he wouldn't call me to talk about useless crap like cars and music and how work is going. He wouldn't even think about me.
And despite knowing all of this in the back of my heart, I took his calls, like the lonely, scared little girl I was [because of him]. I reached out for the scraps of friendship he was tossing in my direction. And I was grateful! How pathetic! I didn't want him back. I don't ever want him back, but still, I thought I could "rise above it." I thought I could be "bigger than this." I thought that I was cool.
It turns out, dumping his ass made me feel so much better than hanging on to his pathetic excuse for a friendship. Publicly calling him names on this blog got rid of him! (yes, it was deleted right after he saw it, and if I remember correctly, no one who reads this regularly saw it before he did) I know it was kind of mean (but not really, because the way out last conversation went, he probably did think that he was the guy I was talking about), and even though I was pissed beyond belief at him, it wasn't out of anger that I called him out, but out of genuine desire for him to finally comprehend that NO, I DON'T WANT TO BE WITH YOU. EVER. EVER AGAIN. JESUS CHRIST, DO I HAVE TO TATTOO IT ON MY FOREHEAD? DO I HAVE TO WRITE IT IN BLOOD? I DON'T FUCKING WANT TO BE WITH YOU. EVER AGAIN. Seriously.
The funniest part of all of this is that if he had been a man about dumping me, maybe in some alternate universe we could have been friends, even though I know it was the worst possible thing in the world for me.
So thank you, college boyfriend. I guess. It took a whole year, but the idiotic "friendship" spell I had over myself was finally broken.
*And I only write this because I'm so happy about it I want to scream it off the rooftops. I know there's still anger and resentment, deep down, and it will probably always be there, but I'm finally in a better place about the whole thing. A less bitter place. And I only waited a few weeks to talk about it because I wanted to make sure I really felt this way.
I don't think I need him any more, even though I thought I did for a while. He was a good friend sometimes, but more often than not, he was selfish and just plain mean. I know he didn't mean to be, because he's a "nice guy,"* and all, but he was pretty much the worst specimen of ex-boyfriend I've ever had to deal with (*nice guy, not only in the way that most guys can be described as a "nice guy," but also in the way that means that he's afraid of conflict and will be an accidental asshole rather than have the balls to do the right thing if it means being "mean" in the conventional sense).
I've had ex-boyfriends tell me that the only reason I was at MIT was because of affirmative action (when I knew their SAT scores and class rank weren't as good as mine). I had a boyfriend use the last leg of our relationship as a means to hit on one of my friends. I had another boyfriend who borrowed money from me on a consistent basis.
None of them were remotely as bad for me as college boyfriend; none of them hurt me nearly as much as he did.
And he had the audacity to parade around pretending to be my friend, sending me music and calling me when he was bored. He doesn't have time for a relationship right now, but if he did, he wouldn't call me to talk about useless crap like cars and music and how work is going. He wouldn't even think about me.
And despite knowing all of this in the back of my heart, I took his calls, like the lonely, scared little girl I was [because of him]. I reached out for the scraps of friendship he was tossing in my direction. And I was grateful! How pathetic! I didn't want him back. I don't ever want him back, but still, I thought I could "rise above it." I thought I could be "bigger than this." I thought that I was cool.
It turns out, dumping his ass made me feel so much better than hanging on to his pathetic excuse for a friendship. Publicly calling him names on this blog got rid of him! (yes, it was deleted right after he saw it, and if I remember correctly, no one who reads this regularly saw it before he did) I know it was kind of mean (but not really, because the way out last conversation went, he probably did think that he was the guy I was talking about), and even though I was pissed beyond belief at him, it wasn't out of anger that I called him out, but out of genuine desire for him to finally comprehend that NO, I DON'T WANT TO BE WITH YOU. EVER. EVER AGAIN. JESUS CHRIST, DO I HAVE TO TATTOO IT ON MY FOREHEAD? DO I HAVE TO WRITE IT IN BLOOD? I DON'T FUCKING WANT TO BE WITH YOU. EVER AGAIN. Seriously.
The funniest part of all of this is that if he had been a man about dumping me, maybe in some alternate universe we could have been friends, even though I know it was the worst possible thing in the world for me.
So thank you, college boyfriend. I guess. It took a whole year, but the idiotic "friendship" spell I had over myself was finally broken.
*And I only write this because I'm so happy about it I want to scream it off the rooftops. I know there's still anger and resentment, deep down, and it will probably always be there, but I'm finally in a better place about the whole thing. A less bitter place. And I only waited a few weeks to talk about it because I wanted to make sure I really felt this way.
28 July 2006
A Trip to the Orthodontist
I was sitting in the orthodontist's chair this morning, when across the way, I overheard another orthodontist telling her ten-year-old patient, "No, of course it won't hurt! Nothing I do to you will hurt."
I started laughing, and Dr. W said that we should go over there and set the girl straight.
Later in the appointment, she came over to watch me get impressions done because her brother had told her that the alginate was "disgusting" and that you "couldn't breathe." The poor girl was terrified. I wanted to smack her brother upside the head, because you know he's a few years older than her, and he only said it to show off, and maybe scare her a bit. Nothing that happens in the orthodontist's chair is pleasant, but there's no reason to scare little kids -- and if she's scared of taking impressions...She's in for a real treat when she gets those bands on.
Her fears were slightly assuaged by the end of her visit, when she was told that she could pick any color in the world for her rubber bands. I guess that means she won't get the super cool braces I have, because I don't need rubber bands.
I started laughing, and Dr. W said that we should go over there and set the girl straight.
Later in the appointment, she came over to watch me get impressions done because her brother had told her that the alginate was "disgusting" and that you "couldn't breathe." The poor girl was terrified. I wanted to smack her brother upside the head, because you know he's a few years older than her, and he only said it to show off, and maybe scare her a bit. Nothing that happens in the orthodontist's chair is pleasant, but there's no reason to scare little kids -- and if she's scared of taking impressions...She's in for a real treat when she gets those bands on.
Her fears were slightly assuaged by the end of her visit, when she was told that she could pick any color in the world for her rubber bands. I guess that means she won't get the super cool braces I have, because I don't need rubber bands.
26 July 2006
I Told You I Liked the Hat
So I made one of my own.
Last night, I decided I wanted a Gryffindor scarf. A la Goblet of Fire. This time, I'm looking to make it using Plymouth Encore yarn instead of good old bargain bin Red Heart yarn. This is for two reasons. One is that since I made my last Potter scarf, I've stopped using bargain bin acrylic. Once the whole scarf was finished, it did feel nice, but it can't be blocked, and I'm pretty sure that over time it won't wear as well as it could. Now, I don't know this. Only time will tell, and the scarf is no longer in my posession (I guess that's reason number one and a half).
Reason the second is that the colors on the Azkaban/Goblet scarf are actually a little daker and a little deeper than the earlier scarves. It seems a little bit more sophisticated, and I want it to look accurate. Thus, even if I wanted them to, Red Heart colors just won't cut it -- not if accuracy is an issue.
However, the reason that I've had a browser open with all the yarn (plus Addi Turbos with which to knit this baby) in my cart all night long, was because I wanted to wake up, see the price one last time, and say "Okay. It's worth it," or "What?! Are you crazy?!" Because the other scarf was about the price you'd pay for a scarf at a store, even using discounted yarn, and this scarf...well...jeez.
The solution? I'm heading down to Windsor Button later today. If they have the yarn I need, I'll take it as a sign that it was meant to be. If they don't have it, I'll hem and haw here for a while, and probably end up with a box of yarn and supplies on its way to my doorstep before I go to sleep tonight.
Reason the second is that the colors on the Azkaban/Goblet scarf are actually a little daker and a little deeper than the earlier scarves. It seems a little bit more sophisticated, and I want it to look accurate. Thus, even if I wanted them to, Red Heart colors just won't cut it -- not if accuracy is an issue.
However, the reason that I've had a browser open with all the yarn (plus Addi Turbos with which to knit this baby) in my cart all night long, was because I wanted to wake up, see the price one last time, and say "Okay. It's worth it," or "What?! Are you crazy?!" Because the other scarf was about the price you'd pay for a scarf at a store, even using discounted yarn, and this scarf...well...jeez.
The solution? I'm heading down to Windsor Button later today. If they have the yarn I need, I'll take it as a sign that it was meant to be. If they don't have it, I'll hem and haw here for a while, and probably end up with a box of yarn and supplies on its way to my doorstep before I go to sleep tonight.
25 July 2006
Lord, can you hear me now?
I saw Damien Rice and Fiona Apple at Mohegan Sun last night. It was...Okay. Damien plays for himself, and that's fine, but he's not a performer. That's okay, because I am madly in love with him and would have his babies if he let me, so I couldn't care less how he performed. He played Cold Water and Blower's Daughter, but not Cannonball, and he also threw in a few songs that I didn't recognize, making me think that his whole life is kind of a B-side. There was a funny lyric about how the girl he's singing to should "leave him for me, before one of us has accidental babies" Matt's friend, Klaire and I laughed about the odds of Damien Rice carrying an accidental baby, because that always happens to men I know. Evidently, "my" copy of O is so old that I'm missing an entire song! I hate it when that happens. That's what I get for discovering him too early, before the re-release of O with Unplayed Piano.
I couldn't track down a set list, but I posted some video on YouTube. Forgive the quality (we had nosebleed seats), and the fact that the songs are cut off (my camera is a p.o.s. that won't take video for longer than 2 and a half minutes):
Cold Water
Blower's Daughter
Fiona was...Well, she was having a mild meltdown. So evidently, this still happens from time to time (and I'm really not surprised, given her past), and in the middle of the show, she apologized for "being an asshole." It was one of those days and she was sorry that it was our day. She's still phenomenal, and I still love her, but in general the whole thing was kind of "meh." At one point during her performance, I stopped enjoying it and started feeling so sad for her, like I shouldn't be watching this sort of raw emotion. Like maybe something was really wrong with her, and we should just leave her be. Someone on the Internets pointed out that a lot of people go to concerts like this because the artists are able to convey emotions that the audience is unable to express in their every day lives. How exhausting it must be to be Fiona Apple all the time. Or Damien Rice. Music by both of them has helped me through breakups, because their music is about all that pain and sadness...And everything I am unable to convey on my own.
Also, I got some pretty good news today, but I want to wait until some details are sorted out before I share it.
And I don't think you've been visiting lately, but if you see this, BEN: SEND ME THE GD SNOW PATROL TICKETS YOU MEALY MOUTHED CROTCH PHEASANT! Just kidding. About everything except sending me the tickets.
I couldn't track down a set list, but I posted some video on YouTube. Forgive the quality (we had nosebleed seats), and the fact that the songs are cut off (my camera is a p.o.s. that won't take video for longer than 2 and a half minutes):
Cold Water
Blower's Daughter
Fiona was...Well, she was having a mild meltdown. So evidently, this still happens from time to time (and I'm really not surprised, given her past), and in the middle of the show, she apologized for "being an asshole." It was one of those days and she was sorry that it was our day. She's still phenomenal, and I still love her, but in general the whole thing was kind of "meh." At one point during her performance, I stopped enjoying it and started feeling so sad for her, like I shouldn't be watching this sort of raw emotion. Like maybe something was really wrong with her, and we should just leave her be. Someone on the Internets pointed out that a lot of people go to concerts like this because the artists are able to convey emotions that the audience is unable to express in their every day lives. How exhausting it must be to be Fiona Apple all the time. Or Damien Rice. Music by both of them has helped me through breakups, because their music is about all that pain and sadness...And everything I am unable to convey on my own.
Also, I got some pretty good news today, but I want to wait until some details are sorted out before I share it.
And I don't think you've been visiting lately, but if you see this, BEN: SEND ME THE GD SNOW PATROL TICKETS YOU MEALY MOUTHED CROTCH PHEASANT! Just kidding. About everything except sending me the tickets.
24 July 2006
One Hundred Things You Should Have Done in Bed
1. What made you smile today?
Today, I smiled when I managed to figure out how to get myself to a Fiona Apple/Damien Rice concert after my ride flaked out. I smiled when I found a place to hang my Celtic cross. I smiled when I realized that the centipede is gone forgood now, at least.
2. What were you doing this morning at 8a.m.?
Asleeping
3.What were you doing 15 minutes ago?
purchasing train tickets to Westerly, RI.
4. Something that happened to you in 1986?
That's the year my album went platinum.
5. Your prom nights?
Prom was just an excuse to put on a prom dress. The real fun was in planning Prom. A Night on the Orient Express! Truth be told, I only remember one prom. I didn't plan it, and it was a pretty awful experience.
The first prom I went to was pretty forgettable -- Sadly. Patrick had just gotten back from Dallas and barely had time to get a tux, and I had an 11:00 curfew. I don't even remember if we had time for dinner, since his flight literally put him in El Paso the afternoon of prom.
6. Last thing you said aloud?
"HA!"
7. Last thing someone else said aloud?
"Guess who I'm imitating"
8. Worst thing currently on television:
There's a lot of crap on the Television these days. Most of it crap that I watch routinely. So I couldn't say.
9. What was in the mail today?
Too early for mail.
10. How many different beverages have you drank today?
just coffee
11. What is your favorite part of the day?
I don't have a favorite
13. Current to do list ?
1. Find a job.
2. Organize sock drawer
14. What color is your toothbrush?
Purple
15. What is out your back door?
A dinosaur victrola listning to buck owens.
16. Any plans for Friday night?
Not currently
17. Least favorite place to shop?
What? I love to shop!
18. Last thing you bought?
train tickets to RI
19. Last gift you received?
Uh, Snow Patrol tickets -- If I ever GET THEM.
20. Funniest thing you heard all day?
My mom and Awbrey have a running joke about her teeth that I'm in on. We laughed about that for a while.
21. Favorite mug?
"Fuck off, I'm Knitting"
22. What color is your front door?
I have no idea. Brown, probably. I want a red one. Or a bright blue one.
Spill Your Guts:
1. First thing you did this morning?
Checked my voicemail
2.) Last thing you ate?
Pops with Peanut Butter Puffin cereal. I like mixin' cereals.
3. Is your cell phone a piece of crap?
Nope, it's pretty new.
4. What's something you look forward to most in the next 6 weeks?
Snow Patrol! Also, Lesley and Mr. Lesley's wedding.
5. What's annoying you right now?
Nothing
No way....
Q: Is there a person who is on your mind right now?
There are a few people
Q: Who is the last person you called?
Matt
Q: Do you look like your mom or dad?
Both
Q: Do you smile often?
I think so. Maybe not, these days.
Q: Do you think that someone is thinking about you right now?
Maybe
Q: Do you wish on stars?
Yes
Q: What is the most disgusting thing you ever ate?
Menudo, chorizo.
Q: Would you kill someone?
I don't know if I could. It would be a pretty unique circumstance if I were in the situation to potentially kill someone, and I don't think I'd have the backbone.
Q: When did you last cry?
I don't remember. Recently.
Q: Are you friendly?
I'm shy, but I'm not unfriendly.
Q: Are you keeping a secret from the world?
I don't really keep secrets, but I'm sure there are things I keep to myself.
Q: Whose bed did you sleep in last night?
Mine.
Today, I smiled when I managed to figure out how to get myself to a Fiona Apple/Damien Rice concert after my ride flaked out. I smiled when I found a place to hang my Celtic cross. I smiled when I realized that the centipede is gone for
2. What were you doing this morning at 8a.m.?
Asleeping
3.What were you doing 15 minutes ago?
purchasing train tickets to Westerly, RI.
4. Something that happened to you in 1986?
That's the year my album went platinum.
5. Your prom nights?
Prom was just an excuse to put on a prom dress. The real fun was in planning Prom. A Night on the Orient Express! Truth be told, I only remember one prom. I didn't plan it, and it was a pretty awful experience.
The first prom I went to was pretty forgettable -- Sadly. Patrick had just gotten back from Dallas and barely had time to get a tux, and I had an 11:00 curfew. I don't even remember if we had time for dinner, since his flight literally put him in El Paso the afternoon of prom.
6. Last thing you said aloud?
"HA!"
7. Last thing someone else said aloud?
"Guess who I'm imitating"
8. Worst thing currently on television:
There's a lot of crap on the Television these days. Most of it crap that I watch routinely. So I couldn't say.
9. What was in the mail today?
Too early for mail.
10. How many different beverages have you drank today?
just coffee
11. What is your favorite part of the day?
I don't have a favorite
13. Current to do list ?
1. Find a job.
2. Organize sock drawer
14. What color is your toothbrush?
Purple
15. What is out your back door?
A dinosaur victrola listning to buck owens.
16. Any plans for Friday night?
Not currently
17. Least favorite place to shop?
What? I love to shop!
18. Last thing you bought?
train tickets to RI
19. Last gift you received?
Uh, Snow Patrol tickets -- If I ever GET THEM.
20. Funniest thing you heard all day?
My mom and Awbrey have a running joke about her teeth that I'm in on. We laughed about that for a while.
21. Favorite mug?
"Fuck off, I'm Knitting"
22. What color is your front door?
I have no idea. Brown, probably. I want a red one. Or a bright blue one.
Spill Your Guts:
1. First thing you did this morning?
Checked my voicemail
2.) Last thing you ate?
Pops with Peanut Butter Puffin cereal. I like mixin' cereals.
3. Is your cell phone a piece of crap?
Nope, it's pretty new.
4. What's something you look forward to most in the next 6 weeks?
Snow Patrol! Also, Lesley and Mr. Lesley's wedding.
5. What's annoying you right now?
Nothing
No way....
Q: Is there a person who is on your mind right now?
There are a few people
Q: Who is the last person you called?
Matt
Q: Do you look like your mom or dad?
Both
Q: Do you smile often?
I think so. Maybe not, these days.
Q: Do you think that someone is thinking about you right now?
Maybe
Q: Do you wish on stars?
Yes
Q: What is the most disgusting thing you ever ate?
Menudo, chorizo.
Q: Would you kill someone?
I don't know if I could. It would be a pretty unique circumstance if I were in the situation to potentially kill someone, and I don't think I'd have the backbone.
Q: When did you last cry?
I don't remember. Recently.
Q: Are you friendly?
I'm shy, but I'm not unfriendly.
Q: Are you keeping a secret from the world?
I don't really keep secrets, but I'm sure there are things I keep to myself.
Q: Whose bed did you sleep in last night?
Mine.
Apparently They're Considered Lucky in Japan
briar: oh god oh god oh god
Auto response from Peter: lunch
briar: there's a centipede in my room
briar: i do not like this
briar: i don't like it at all
briar: it's on my wall!
briar: what do i do?
briar: i need a boyfriend
briar: or my dad
briar: ack!
briar: it's moving!
briar: spraying it with windex and 409 didn't help
briar: peter i can't deal with this!
briar: I'm supposed to vacuum it up
briar: i can't
briar: i can't deal with this
briar: oh my god, it's moving again
briar: oh no
briar: oh oh
briar: it's in the ceiling
briar: okay it's "gone"
briar: but my floor is such a mess
briar: and they like dark damp places, and usually stick to baseboards, so I'll never really know
briar: eeeee this is so gross!
briar: i can't sleep
briar: because I know that's when it will fall on my face
briar: OH GOD IT'S COMING BACK OUT
And that's how the centipede ATE ME last night. Okay, fine. Nothing ate me. Mostly this sort of "dialogue" went on for a while longer while the centipede hung out on my wall (Peter came back just after the all-caps scream fest, but I was still doing most of the talking), and he finally convinced me to whack at it with a broom.
I scared it away, and finally got to sleep after 2:30 (let's put things in perspective a little by mentioning that I had gotten tired enough for bed at 11:30 last night). Using a broom, only when I was convinced that it wouldn't fall on me, or the floor, was the only way I could have been brave enough to do it. Lame? Maybe. Would I have called my boyfriend over at 11:32 when I first saw the thing? Uh. Yes.
I know, I know. That'll make 'em line up.
Auto response from Peter: lunch
briar: there's a centipede in my room
briar: i do not like this
briar: i don't like it at all
briar: it's on my wall!
briar: what do i do?
briar: i need a boyfriend
briar: or my dad
briar: ack!
briar: it's moving!
briar: spraying it with windex and 409 didn't help
briar: peter i can't deal with this!
briar: I'm supposed to vacuum it up
briar: i can't
briar: i can't deal with this
briar: oh my god, it's moving again
briar: oh no
briar: oh oh
briar: it's in the ceiling
briar: okay it's "gone"
briar: but my floor is such a mess
briar: and they like dark damp places, and usually stick to baseboards, so I'll never really know
briar: eeeee this is so gross!
briar: i can't sleep
briar: because I know that's when it will fall on my face
briar: OH GOD IT'S COMING BACK OUT
And that's how the centipede ATE ME last night. Okay, fine. Nothing ate me. Mostly this sort of "dialogue" went on for a while longer while the centipede hung out on my wall (Peter came back just after the all-caps scream fest, but I was still doing most of the talking), and he finally convinced me to whack at it with a broom.
I scared it away, and finally got to sleep after 2:30 (let's put things in perspective a little by mentioning that I had gotten tired enough for bed at 11:30 last night). Using a broom, only when I was convinced that it wouldn't fall on me, or the floor, was the only way I could have been brave enough to do it. Lame? Maybe. Would I have called my boyfriend over at 11:32 when I first saw the thing? Uh. Yes.
I know, I know. That'll make 'em line up.
23 July 2006
The tears come streaming down your face when you lose something you can't replace
Sometimes I feel like I have a really good entry started in my head, and when I sit down to type, I can get a good first sentence out, maybe, then...Nothing.
I cleaned out a lot of drafts the other day - half formed thoughts that were never published, things about people I know that shouldn't be on the Internet, stories that should be told by someone who can tell a story. In other words, things that would be clever if they weren't written by me.
Sometimes it's just because I have nothing clever to say. Other times I have very clever things to say, but no clever way to say them. And then, sometimes, maybe there are things in the back of my mind that I should write about -- but I don't want to write about.
Like the unemployment thing. Maybe it would help if people knew how I feel right now. How I feel like it's a dirty word: "Unemployed." And how I feel dirty because of it. Or how clever synonyms like "in between jobs" no longer sound more clever. Instead, after a few months, they sound just as repulsive to me. Lately I feel like it's a label that I'm wearing on my lapel for everyone to see. Hello, my name is Unemployed. As though people in the supermarket on a Wednesday afternoon know.
I met someone at a party a few weeks ago, and after what I thought was a stimulating conversation about the hassle of finding a new apartment, we started talking about what we "do." He was talking about how he just starting his residency at a local hospital, and I became incredibly embarrassed and started talking really stupidly about how I'm "in-between jobs" (and I'm pretty sure I used air quotes and rolled my eyes. I don't remember if I explained how that was just the fancy way of saying "I collect unemployment checks" and then laughed nervously, but that's where it was headed). I was even more embarrassed when he excused himself to the other room, and at the time, I reasoned that it was the stink of "the unemployed" that drove him away, instead of my manic, nervous reaction to the question "what do you do?" Instead of rationalizing that he wasn't interested in speaking to me anymore because I was significantly younger than he was, or because of my attitude (and maybe my drunkenness), I reasoned that it was because I was an "untouchable."
I know I have such an unhealthy attitude about my situation right now, and I know it's not helping anything to be pessimistic and downtrodden, but what can I do about that? Will I feel better when I get a job? Am I doing permanent damage to my psyche? Even going to church makes me feel nervous, and why? Shutting myself up in my apartment certainly isn't going to help, so why do I do it?
I just don't know anymore. And I feel like such an uninteresting person these days.
And I don't know what to do about it, anymore.
[Currently Spinning: Coldplay - Fix You]
I cleaned out a lot of drafts the other day - half formed thoughts that were never published, things about people I know that shouldn't be on the Internet, stories that should be told by someone who can tell a story. In other words, things that would be clever if they weren't written by me.
Sometimes it's just because I have nothing clever to say. Other times I have very clever things to say, but no clever way to say them. And then, sometimes, maybe there are things in the back of my mind that I should write about -- but I don't want to write about.
Like the unemployment thing. Maybe it would help if people knew how I feel right now. How I feel like it's a dirty word: "Unemployed." And how I feel dirty because of it. Or how clever synonyms like "in between jobs" no longer sound more clever. Instead, after a few months, they sound just as repulsive to me. Lately I feel like it's a label that I'm wearing on my lapel for everyone to see. Hello, my name is Unemployed. As though people in the supermarket on a Wednesday afternoon know.
I met someone at a party a few weeks ago, and after what I thought was a stimulating conversation about the hassle of finding a new apartment, we started talking about what we "do." He was talking about how he just starting his residency at a local hospital, and I became incredibly embarrassed and started talking really stupidly about how I'm "in-between jobs" (and I'm pretty sure I used air quotes and rolled my eyes. I don't remember if I explained how that was just the fancy way of saying "I collect unemployment checks" and then laughed nervously, but that's where it was headed). I was even more embarrassed when he excused himself to the other room, and at the time, I reasoned that it was the stink of "the unemployed" that drove him away, instead of my manic, nervous reaction to the question "what do you do?" Instead of rationalizing that he wasn't interested in speaking to me anymore because I was significantly younger than he was, or because of my attitude (and maybe my drunkenness), I reasoned that it was because I was an "untouchable."
I know I have such an unhealthy attitude about my situation right now, and I know it's not helping anything to be pessimistic and downtrodden, but what can I do about that? Will I feel better when I get a job? Am I doing permanent damage to my psyche? Even going to church makes me feel nervous, and why? Shutting myself up in my apartment certainly isn't going to help, so why do I do it?
I just don't know anymore. And I feel like such an uninteresting person these days.
And I don't know what to do about it, anymore.
[Currently Spinning: Coldplay - Fix You]
22 July 2006
Tired of taking shit that I don't deserve
She said let's go
I said hell no, I don't wanna be friends
She said kiss me
I said miss me, I don't wanna be friends
She said love me
I said shove me, I don't wanna be friends
She sat near me
Can't you hear me, I don't wanna be friends
She said trust me
Why so you can bust me? I don't wanna be friends
I think I'm gonna do what I damn well please
Cause I don't wanna be friends
Maybe there will come a day when you decide to walk away but I don't think so now
She said beg me
Why so you can peg me? I don't wanna be friends
I'm tired of taking shit that I don't deserve, Cause I don't wanna be friends
She said hurt me
I said squirt me, I don't wanna be friends
Can't you get it through your big thick skull
That I don't wanna be friends?
Maybe there will come a time when I could probably change my mind but I don't think so now
She said need me
I said leave me, I don't wanna be friends
She said love me
I said shove me, I don't wanna be friends
She said let's go
I said hell no, I don't wanna be friends
She said hold me
I said blow me
I don't wanna be
There's no need for me
I don't wanna be friends
-Cowboy Mouth, Friends
I said hell no, I don't wanna be friends
She said kiss me
I said miss me, I don't wanna be friends
She said love me
I said shove me, I don't wanna be friends
She sat near me
Can't you hear me, I don't wanna be friends
She said trust me
Why so you can bust me? I don't wanna be friends
I think I'm gonna do what I damn well please
Cause I don't wanna be friends
Maybe there will come a day when you decide to walk away but I don't think so now
She said beg me
Why so you can peg me? I don't wanna be friends
I'm tired of taking shit that I don't deserve, Cause I don't wanna be friends
She said hurt me
I said squirt me, I don't wanna be friends
Can't you get it through your big thick skull
That I don't wanna be friends?
Maybe there will come a time when I could probably change my mind but I don't think so now
She said need me
I said leave me, I don't wanna be friends
She said love me
I said shove me, I don't wanna be friends
She said let's go
I said hell no, I don't wanna be friends
She said hold me
I said blow me
I don't wanna be
There's no need for me
I don't wanna be friends
-Cowboy Mouth, Friends
21 July 2006
I've waited here my whole damn life
And I've forgotten what I wanted
I found my high school journal while I was unpacking, so I started reading through it (as I do whenever I come across it, which is exactly what I do with the box, whenever I come across it -- although I try to limit time with the box because while it's funny to read my thoughts in my journal, being in the box is like being in the past, and no one should live in the past). Anyway, I found this passage:
Six years. Six years was a long time ago. I'm not so brand new anymore. I've been broken, and I've glued myself back together a few times. But I am wiser. And stronger. I'm not as foolish, and not nearly so naive, anymore. I also realize that he's probably the Kitty Shcherbatsky to my Levin1; the Amelia Sedley to my Dobbin2. He's my unattainable person, who probably isn't everything I imagine him to be anymore.
Sometimes I just want to wake up next to someone, and know that someone is there. Going through life with me.
But I also know I want it to be real, for once - or maybe for a second time in my life.
And I can hold out for that. I will hold out for that.
I know it's going to be a while before I stop needing to be in a relationship. I'm a relationship-aholic. I can't live without relationship-ahol. (Sorry, I couldn't resist). I'm starting to embrace the single wagon, though. Slowly. And if, from time to time, I still need to envision a world where I will one day run into him on the street, and we'll be able to pick up where we left off when I was sixteen? What's so wrong with that right now? I think I'll know that I found the guy when I can stop thinking about him once and for all. I was pretty close once, and I have nothing but grattitude towards him for that -- even though It didn't work out as well as I wanted it to. At least I learned from him that despite how sad and broken I have been, someone else who is suited for me is probably out there.
Anyway, I went out to buy new curtains earlier today, and was thankfully inside before the raging beast of a storm:
But, sadly, when I carelessly walked out of my room with some mail in my hands, I broke the spoon to my chicken sugar bowl:
These days, I really can't win 'em all.
1Anna Karenina
2Vanity Fair
[Currently Spinning: Snow Patrol - Ways & Means]
I'm not saying I'm going to stay with him forever. My dad keeps telling me that "if it's going to happen, it'll happen. You can wait until you're out of college." If what is going to happen!?! I just want to go out with him a few more times before he leaves.I started laughing out loud. "Hello? Are you there, God? It's me, Margaret. It's 'after college' now. Is this really what life is turning out to be?" I had to laugh, because it was either that, or cry (the ironic "happy" tears). Even at sixteen I really wasn't thinking that I'd be thinking about him again six years later, but for some reason, I really did think I'd be with him forever -- someday. It just made it easier to think in terms of "this Saturday," instead of "next year when he leaves for college." Thinking about him is still where I default whenever I'm not in a relationship, or when I'm trying to convince myself to leave my current relationship. Thinking about him makes me feel sixteen again. Full of hope. Full of girlish desire. Full of the bubbling, happy feeling that I'm brand new, and anything can happen, and that anything will happen.
Six years. Six years was a long time ago. I'm not so brand new anymore. I've been broken, and I've glued myself back together a few times. But I am wiser. And stronger. I'm not as foolish, and not nearly so naive, anymore. I also realize that he's probably the Kitty Shcherbatsky to my Levin1; the Amelia Sedley to my Dobbin2. He's my unattainable person, who probably isn't everything I imagine him to be anymore.
Sometimes I just want to wake up next to someone, and know that someone is there. Going through life with me.
But I also know I want it to be real, for once - or maybe for a second time in my life.
And I can hold out for that. I will hold out for that.
I know it's going to be a while before I stop needing to be in a relationship. I'm a relationship-aholic. I can't live without relationship-ahol. (Sorry, I couldn't resist). I'm starting to embrace the single wagon, though. Slowly. And if, from time to time, I still need to envision a world where I will one day run into him on the street, and we'll be able to pick up where we left off when I was sixteen? What's so wrong with that right now? I think I'll know that I found the guy when I can stop thinking about him once and for all. I was pretty close once, and I have nothing but grattitude towards him for that -- even though It didn't work out as well as I wanted it to. At least I learned from him that despite how sad and broken I have been, someone else who is suited for me is probably out there.
Anyway, I went out to buy new curtains earlier today, and was thankfully inside before the raging beast of a storm:
But, sadly, when I carelessly walked out of my room with some mail in my hands, I broke the spoon to my chicken sugar bowl:
These days, I really can't win 'em all.
1Anna Karenina
2Vanity Fair
[Currently Spinning: Snow Patrol - Ways & Means]
19 July 2006
2 Days, 2 Weird Dreams
I have had two weird dreams in the past two days; both dreams good in their own way.
I can't really share the one from two nights ago (yes it was dirty ;) but last night, I dreamed that I was going to the ballet with the orchestra. It was a weird combination of me now and me then, because I was clearly trying to get to the ballet from work, but everyone from high school was there. I was dressed up, but I hadn't been able to find a date -- or so I thought. When I got there, Patrick was also there, and we sat next to each other and just settled into being completely comfortable with each other, holding hands, putting our arms over each other's shoulders, and he kept kissing my temple.
We ended up getting cheated out of the ballet (the performance was about thirty seconds long, then they were showing old clips of old debutante dances on a TV mounted up in the corner. We decided it was completely lame, and left the room. It turns out, we were supposed to be in the high school (it just looked nothing like my high school), and so we went to search for Dusty's room so we could hang out somewhere. I was getting mixed signals from Patrick, and at some later point, when I went to the restroom, I came back to overhear him explaining to Sara how he was dating someone who was in Australia, and that he'd either have to break up with her before he went out there to visit her, or he'd probably stay with her because it cost so much to go out there and then not stay with the person.
I was kind of crushed, but also felt a competitive surge rise inside me, and I thought that if I could be completely charming that night, maybe he'd reconsider being with me again, but I kept saying really stupid things.
We talked about High-Q some, and a bunch of people I haven't seen in a while were there. Mike, Nicky and Daniel Bujanda were sitting in one corner, talking about how Mike took Patrick's place on the High-Q team (which isn't true -- no one really took Pat's place, or was that just in my heart? Joke). Dixie was in another corner, and she was really happy to see Patrick, but really cold to me. I didn't know what to think, but before I had time to analyze it, Patrick said we were leaving. So Sara, Peter, and I got to his car, and he was taking us home, but he kept driving backwards, and not really paying attention to the road (so not Patrick!) -- and searching for this one song to play for us, if it wasn't on the radio before midnight. We started listening to some matchbox 20 song, and I thought that was the song he wanted us to hear, but it wasn't. He was going to take us to his parent's house to listen to it, and I remembered his parent's house looking like what it looked like in one of my waaay old dreams (So weird!).
I woke up to that warm, fuzzy feeling when you see an old friend. But the thing is, the only place I'll ever see him is in my dreams.
Peter is living with him right now; his brother, one of my best friends from high school, who I talk to nearly every day -- and Patrick hasn't once talked to me, or even said hello through Peter. So I can only assume he's stopped caring, and probably never will again. I guess as long as I don't let it interfere with my relationship with Peter (uh...again)...I'll be okay, because honestly, it's not like I've tried that hard to contact him. And really, after three or four years...what am I even complaining about? Last time I talked to him on AIM (at 4 in the morning, Junior year at MIT), he implied that affirmitive action was the only reason I was there, and so it didn't end well.
I can't really share the one from two nights ago (yes it was dirty ;) but last night, I dreamed that I was going to the ballet with the orchestra. It was a weird combination of me now and me then, because I was clearly trying to get to the ballet from work, but everyone from high school was there. I was dressed up, but I hadn't been able to find a date -- or so I thought. When I got there, Patrick was also there, and we sat next to each other and just settled into being completely comfortable with each other, holding hands, putting our arms over each other's shoulders, and he kept kissing my temple.
We ended up getting cheated out of the ballet (the performance was about thirty seconds long, then they were showing old clips of old debutante dances on a TV mounted up in the corner. We decided it was completely lame, and left the room. It turns out, we were supposed to be in the high school (it just looked nothing like my high school), and so we went to search for Dusty's room so we could hang out somewhere. I was getting mixed signals from Patrick, and at some later point, when I went to the restroom, I came back to overhear him explaining to Sara how he was dating someone who was in Australia, and that he'd either have to break up with her before he went out there to visit her, or he'd probably stay with her because it cost so much to go out there and then not stay with the person.
I was kind of crushed, but also felt a competitive surge rise inside me, and I thought that if I could be completely charming that night, maybe he'd reconsider being with me again, but I kept saying really stupid things.
We talked about High-Q some, and a bunch of people I haven't seen in a while were there. Mike, Nicky and Daniel Bujanda were sitting in one corner, talking about how Mike took Patrick's place on the High-Q team (which isn't true -- no one really took Pat's place, or was that just in my heart? Joke). Dixie was in another corner, and she was really happy to see Patrick, but really cold to me. I didn't know what to think, but before I had time to analyze it, Patrick said we were leaving. So Sara, Peter, and I got to his car, and he was taking us home, but he kept driving backwards, and not really paying attention to the road (so not Patrick!) -- and searching for this one song to play for us, if it wasn't on the radio before midnight. We started listening to some matchbox 20 song, and I thought that was the song he wanted us to hear, but it wasn't. He was going to take us to his parent's house to listen to it, and I remembered his parent's house looking like what it looked like in one of my waaay old dreams (So weird!).
I woke up to that warm, fuzzy feeling when you see an old friend. But the thing is, the only place I'll ever see him is in my dreams.
Peter is living with him right now; his brother, one of my best friends from high school, who I talk to nearly every day -- and Patrick hasn't once talked to me, or even said hello through Peter. So I can only assume he's stopped caring, and probably never will again. I guess as long as I don't let it interfere with my relationship with Peter (uh...again)...I'll be okay, because honestly, it's not like I've tried that hard to contact him. And really, after three or four years...what am I even complaining about? Last time I talked to him on AIM (at 4 in the morning, Junior year at MIT), he implied that affirmitive action was the only reason I was there, and so it didn't end well.
18 July 2006
Disney's Flash Forward
When I went to see X3, I had an unsettling feeling that I knew I'd seen the actor who played Angel before, but I just assumed that was because he was a non-descript pretty blonde boy. Besides, the boy he reminded me of wasn't nearly so skinny. Or tall. Or crazy-lookin'.
But today, I was looking for episodes of Disney's Flash Forward (after a Serenity/Firefly kick), and I realized that Tucker looked vaguely familiar...and that I'd seen him in something recently.
After a little bit of IMDB research I learned that Angel and Tucker are, in fact, the same person: Ben Foster.
Also, it led me to the conclusion that I watched way too much Flash Foward way back when (it's also how I knew Kaylee, even though I told Laura at the time that "Flash Forward must be what I remember her from, but I only watched, like...one or two episodes." It turns out, I've seen them all. Yeah. I know.)
But today, I was looking for episodes of Disney's Flash Forward (after a Serenity/Firefly kick), and I realized that Tucker looked vaguely familiar...and that I'd seen him in something recently.
After a little bit of IMDB research I learned that Angel and Tucker are, in fact, the same person: Ben Foster.
Also, it led me to the conclusion that I watched way too much Flash Foward way back when (it's also how I knew Kaylee, even though I told Laura at the time that "Flash Forward must be what I remember her from, but I only watched, like...one or two episodes." It turns out, I've seen them all. Yeah. I know.)
16 July 2006
Moving Briar and Alisa's Skank Asses: Part Duex
(Forgive the title - it's two inside jokes).
Teresa was a trooper yesterday. Even though she's on vacation here in Boston (well, Somerville), she helped Alisa and me schlepp our things to the new place (via UHaul).
We were able to rent a van for this trip (a van is much bigger and therefore somewhat more appropriate for moving than a Ford Taurus. But there was no CD Player, and we still made five pretty big trips -- as opposed to the nine we made last year in the bitty Taurus). There was a trip to Target where we actually got almost nothing that we were supposed to get (a fire extinguisher and dining room chairs, for instance), but I managed to acquire this gorgeous little mirror/shelf for my room, a waffle iron (!!! "Alisa! Now we can have waffles every....Six months!!!), and some new plastic tumblers (we kept breaking the glasses. So plastic it is!).
People on our new street are so nice, which is funny because it's a block away from our old house. No one offered to help us on our old street (save one story for the next paragraph), and everyone was offering to help on our new street.
The biggest problem we faced during this move was getting Alisa's box spring downstairs. Our stair entry has a low ceiling, and we've all bumped our heads (well, maybe not Jessica), or gotten stuck coming down the stairs (the doorway is also stupidly at the foot of the last stair, which is the only way it all fits inside, but is still inane), so we knew the only way to get the box spring out was to lower it from the front balcony, but we all had the same mental image of the box spring exploding into a million little wood splinters -- and some springs -- on the sidewalk below. Teresa decided it would be best to ask experts before we attempted this, so she asked the movers who were two doors down how we would go about getting the mattress and box spring into the van. Well, as it turns out, being three cute girls has its advantages. They didn't just tell us what to do -- they did it for us! It was too sweet, and they also offered to move one of our bigger boxes, too (which we didn't allow, but still -- so. sweet!). We were going to buy them beer, but they left before we had a chance. I hope they have enough good karma to last them a lifetime, though; and I guess that's better than beer...But still -- I wish we'd been able to get them something other than a "thank you!"
After one of our trips, we met our new Irish neighbor. He told us that he wanted to show us something...So we followed him to his place and went through his basement, and saw his pub. I'm talking...Bar, barstools, lots of alcohol, a HUGE widescreen TV (and a smaller TV behind that, ha!), and football? Rugby? memorabilia all over the walls. He was the sweetest man, and he gave us water and chatted with us for a bit. Apparently, once when he got pretty drunk, he offered to take his Korean tenants to Ireland. He paid their airfare, and hosted them with some friends of his. Then he called the local paper and they wrote a story (parts of it fabricated, but most of it true) about the hospitality in Korea and how this local Irishman wanted to extend the same hospitality to some girls he met there (those girls would be his tenants...So that's the part that's fabricated). He's introduced many couples, apparently -- so Teresa says we need to hang out with this guy, if not for the full bar, then for the trip to Ireland and future husband.
Seriously, guys. We moved one block down. Just beyond the "we keep to ourselves" border.
So, that's our new place, in a nutshell. My room is being decorationally-difficult, my knee really really really hurts :( and I'm a little sad we'll only be here for a year, but otherwise, I can't really complain.
And we were done moving by 9:00 PM this time. After taking breaks. And we only made 5 trips. And we weren't even packed before we left. And we still got to go to Target and IHOP. By far, it was a much better moving experience, except, sadly, there was no Jessica, and no "Moving Briar and Alisa's Skank Asses" mixed CD.
Teresa was a trooper yesterday. Even though she's on vacation here in Boston (well, Somerville), she helped Alisa and me schlepp our things to the new place (via UHaul).
We were able to rent a van for this trip (a van is much bigger and therefore somewhat more appropriate for moving than a Ford Taurus. But there was no CD Player, and we still made five pretty big trips -- as opposed to the nine we made last year in the bitty Taurus). There was a trip to Target where we actually got almost nothing that we were supposed to get (a fire extinguisher and dining room chairs, for instance), but I managed to acquire this gorgeous little mirror/shelf for my room, a waffle iron (!!! "Alisa! Now we can have waffles every....Six months!!!), and some new plastic tumblers (we kept breaking the glasses. So plastic it is!).
People on our new street are so nice, which is funny because it's a block away from our old house. No one offered to help us on our old street (save one story for the next paragraph), and everyone was offering to help on our new street.
The biggest problem we faced during this move was getting Alisa's box spring downstairs. Our stair entry has a low ceiling, and we've all bumped our heads (well, maybe not Jessica), or gotten stuck coming down the stairs (the doorway is also stupidly at the foot of the last stair, which is the only way it all fits inside, but is still inane), so we knew the only way to get the box spring out was to lower it from the front balcony, but we all had the same mental image of the box spring exploding into a million little wood splinters -- and some springs -- on the sidewalk below. Teresa decided it would be best to ask experts before we attempted this, so she asked the movers who were two doors down how we would go about getting the mattress and box spring into the van. Well, as it turns out, being three cute girls has its advantages. They didn't just tell us what to do -- they did it for us! It was too sweet, and they also offered to move one of our bigger boxes, too (which we didn't allow, but still -- so. sweet!). We were going to buy them beer, but they left before we had a chance. I hope they have enough good karma to last them a lifetime, though; and I guess that's better than beer...But still -- I wish we'd been able to get them something other than a "thank you!"
After one of our trips, we met our new Irish neighbor. He told us that he wanted to show us something...So we followed him to his place and went through his basement, and saw his pub. I'm talking...Bar, barstools, lots of alcohol, a HUGE widescreen TV (and a smaller TV behind that, ha!), and football? Rugby? memorabilia all over the walls. He was the sweetest man, and he gave us water and chatted with us for a bit. Apparently, once when he got pretty drunk, he offered to take his Korean tenants to Ireland. He paid their airfare, and hosted them with some friends of his. Then he called the local paper and they wrote a story (parts of it fabricated, but most of it true) about the hospitality in Korea and how this local Irishman wanted to extend the same hospitality to some girls he met there (those girls would be his tenants...So that's the part that's fabricated). He's introduced many couples, apparently -- so Teresa says we need to hang out with this guy, if not for the full bar, then for the trip to Ireland and future husband.
Seriously, guys. We moved one block down. Just beyond the "we keep to ourselves" border.
So, that's our new place, in a nutshell. My room is being decorationally-difficult, my knee really really really hurts :( and I'm a little sad we'll only be here for a year, but otherwise, I can't really complain.
And we were done moving by 9:00 PM this time. After taking breaks. And we only made 5 trips. And we weren't even packed before we left. And we still got to go to Target and IHOP. By far, it was a much better moving experience, except, sadly, there was no Jessica, and no "Moving Briar and Alisa's Skank Asses" mixed CD.
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