I've had some requests to update my 15 followers on the crazy happenings of my life recently. While things have been relatively crazy, nothing has really happened that made me go, I MUST BLOG ABOUT THIS! For those of you that don't know, the condo that I was supposed to close on back on July 12, has yet to materialize. Yes, I was overly optimistic back in June and posted pics on facebook of me, Gayleen and Dawn breaking and entering to show illegal evidence of my first official happy hour...fate has caught up with me, giving me a harsh reality check and saying, 'this condo is not yours!' My interest rate that was locked in on June 7thish initially expired on August 7, was extended another 60 days, and will expire again on October 7th. At that point there may have to be a decision made on whether or not to extend it again and wait on POS Bank of America to get their shit together, or walk away and start over. Honestly not sure what I'll do. As Traci Giles has put it so eloquently, if we're not having a moving party on October 8th, we'll be having a, Moving Val's shit into semi-permanent storage party. That could be a really good episode of Storage Wars when they open my one month leased storage unit to find a dehydrated Traci and Val show hanging out ill and near death. Anyway, I digress. I've been lucky enough to have very comfortable lodging with super tolerant friend Gayleen since the end of July. I'm just chillin in Waukee, enjoying my very sunny commute every morning, and easy access to the bike trails as often as my schedule and weather permits. Notable points include, but are not limited to:
1. Losing my cell phone Labor Day weekend to the Mississippi River. When I was finally able to get back to digital civilization, I realized that mycontactsbackup, one of the best reasons to have US Cellular, had deleted half of my contacts..pretty much anyone that wasn't a stupid ex that I never wanted to talk to again was removed from my contacts. It was almost as tho a crazy boyfriend went thru my phone and deleted every other guys name, or perhaps I just have too many Ben's, Joe's, Chad's, etc. That's been fun.
2. I've played 2 games of kickball in our 4 game deep season. Pulled both quads in game 2 in a less than amazing effort to impress a boy. That worked, if intense whining and awkward stretching comes across as really hot. Go me.
3. I attended my one Iowa Hawkeye game of the year yesterday. Stayed at Traci's house on Friday night in an effort to not be 'the late one'. My packing skills on Friday afternoon only proved that I don't have the foresight to pack underwear or socks that fit. Now I'm that girl.
Hope all is well, all! I'll try not to be such a stranger....and for the record, my underwear fit, I just didn't have any, my socks were the ill fitting garment.
Sunday, September 25, 2011
Monday, August 8, 2011
Just another Monday Night
Since my massage was canceled due to Mr. Massage not being in his office tonight, I headed home to maybe get a bike ride in...after some sweet corn and a BLT Gayleen and I headed out. I mentioned once we got our bikes out that I thought I needed some air...after hopping on, Gayleen confirmed that it looked like I was a few pounds low. We headed to the Kum & Go to air up and be on our way. I filled my back tire, and moved onto the front. The more air I tried to put in, the more that came out and the tire just got flatter. We decided that I must have a hole by the stem and started the trek back to the condo, walking our bikes. We made it back and headed off to Scheels with my bike on my car.
We walk into Scheels and find the tubes, as we're looking thru the dozen different sizes and types, a teenage kid comes up and asks us if we need help. Yes, we need help. He comes out from behind the counter and helps us find the right tubes. As we walk away, Gayleen asks the tech if he'll do it for us. He says yes and since I have my bike with me, we head out to the parking lot to get the tire.
I'm going to call the bike tech, 'One Dimple' because he had the same one dimple by his eye that I do. I bring the tire in, and he takes us into the back area so I can learn how to maybe do this for myself sometime. Prying off the tire from the rim looked like a challenge. One Dimple told me to be careful when prying it off because it can be difficult and the tool can slip and you could end up hitting yourself in the face. I looked at him and go, 'I feel like you know me'. He finishes getting the tire off and removes the tube. Not sure why, but he filled the used tube back up to find out where the leak was...guess what, it filled up very nicely...no hole at all. He said that if it hasn't been changed out in the past 6 months it may need to be replaced anyway. Not sure why, but I went along with this theory and walked off with 2 new tubes and the $5 cost of One Dimple fixing a tube that wasn't broken...now to get a lesson on using that stupid air compressor at Kum & Go. Such a moron.
We walk into Scheels and find the tubes, as we're looking thru the dozen different sizes and types, a teenage kid comes up and asks us if we need help. Yes, we need help. He comes out from behind the counter and helps us find the right tubes. As we walk away, Gayleen asks the tech if he'll do it for us. He says yes and since I have my bike with me, we head out to the parking lot to get the tire.
I'm going to call the bike tech, 'One Dimple' because he had the same one dimple by his eye that I do. I bring the tire in, and he takes us into the back area so I can learn how to maybe do this for myself sometime. Prying off the tire from the rim looked like a challenge. One Dimple told me to be careful when prying it off because it can be difficult and the tool can slip and you could end up hitting yourself in the face. I looked at him and go, 'I feel like you know me'. He finishes getting the tire off and removes the tube. Not sure why, but he filled the used tube back up to find out where the leak was...guess what, it filled up very nicely...no hole at all. He said that if it hasn't been changed out in the past 6 months it may need to be replaced anyway. Not sure why, but I went along with this theory and walked off with 2 new tubes and the $5 cost of One Dimple fixing a tube that wasn't broken...now to get a lesson on using that stupid air compressor at Kum & Go. Such a moron.
Thursday, August 4, 2011
10th Anniversary of my 20th Birthday
As I quickly approach a major milestone in my life, making it past my 29th year and all, I thought I'd share a piece of history. If you've known me long enough to know some of my past, you know why I dislike New Year's Eve. Yes, I dislike all the hub ub of spending a bunch of money on the first night of the year, yes, I dislike couple-centric holidays that make single people feel like festering piles of loser, and yes, I have some tainted history with the holiday. On January 1, 2001 at approximately 2:13 in the morning, I was with my BFF Julie, sitting in the Co-op parking lot at the T intersection in Ossian, trying to figure out why my lights weren't working. There was a short in the fuse, but we wouldn't find that out until the next day when my dad dropped me back off there on our way home from the Winneshiek County jail. Officer Felton, my DARE officer of 5th grade, found Julie and I there, snacking on Munchos and other Kwik Star fare, flickering my lights, an SOS call of sorts I guess you could say...well, I was a little under the influence, and he was uninterested in letting me walk home thru the cornfield to my parent's house that was lit up like a Christmas tree. I even pointed it out to him. He wasn't having it. I think he was still kicking himself for just giving me a warning when he pulled me over for passing a school bus with it's lights on a few years earlier. Long story short, I made a mistake. I spent the night in jail, and the following 6 months without a license and a serious constant guilt trip from my unimpressed, let down mother. Which brings us to my birthday. Below you'll find the poem she wrote me for my 20th birthday. Coincidence of the current day nearly 10 years later, is that I will (hopefully) be moving soon, and living amongst unpacked boxes. This is why you should save your birthday cards, kids...they will bring you more enjoyment when you find them 10 years later. Love you, Mom!
Wednesday, June 15, 2011
Don't try this in a fragile state
There area few things I've done in the past month and a half that have threatened the stability of my life. Take this as a warning.
1. I've been riding my bike a lot lately. I love it. Except for the one time I almost got the life squeezed out of me on Polk Blvd., I really love my time outdoors on 2 wheels. And, once I realized I look pretty sweet with piggy tails sticking out of the bottom of my dude picker upper (aka: helmet) I decided to wear it all the time, we all know I'm not the queen of coordination. Anyway, in an effort to avoid having a sore tush, I went to a bike shop one afternoon to see what the clearance rack had for padded shorts. That 26 minutes was quite possibly the most painful of 26 minutes of, if not my life, at least the first 12 hours of the day. Some a-hole made a requirement years ago that fitting rooms must have bright, hot lights, zero ventilation and the square footage that should be considered a confined space. Purchases: $0 at Rassmussen Bike Shop. After work that day I decided to tempt fate one more time and go to Scheels for a more extensive selection. As I looked around the spandex mecca, one of the sales guys came over to help me - a decision he must have seriously regretted minutes later. My first uncomfortable question, 'Do people wear underwear under these things?' He said that most don't, but guess what, I think he just wants me once step closer to getting drunk and naked, so I wear 2 pairs. I tried on what must have been 5 different spandex numbers. If I hadn't been so grouchy, I would have entertained the guy by trying on one of the triathlon onsies...but I wasn't in the mood, and only got more belligerent with every garment I tried. I thought I wanted to try the non-spandex padded shorts until the first couple pairs made me look like a lesbian gallivanting around in my brothers swimming trunks. The salesman had an encouraging positive look on his face when I emerged from the fitting room sweating, 'How'd they work?' he asked, 'well, if I was trying to pick up girls, they'd be great. Those are disgusting.' Ok, lets look at something else...we headed back to the spandex. We picked up a couple pair of normal black spandex shorts. Things were just about to get worse....after the episode at the bike shop, I kind of knew that I shouldn't do this, but I had my fingers crossed that it might be a better selection here. Let me tell you, I was wrong again. Biker shorts were designed by some 95 pound asshole who is mad that all their clothes are baggy. These shorts made my legs look like sausage links that were crimped off between links, but then a 4 year old undid the casing and it's just one long sausage with a big kink in the middle. Not pretty. I ended up with a skirt with padded shorts underneath. Why in the hell did I not start with that? I could have saved myself at least one month of therapy.
And, secondly...a couple hours ago I got home from a trip to Target. On my list was a father's day card, as well as 5 wedding cards to hold me over for the rest of the year (hopefully). Everyone knows that those lists are merely a suggestion, but since I'm working on a tight budget these days, I quickly ran thru the clearance rack for some summer work outfits. This equated to me finding a few uber casual numbers that I envisioned being able to throw a sweater over the top of and pulling it off on a casual Friday turned happy hour. Somehow a 'romper' made it into my selections, just to try it out. Ok, for those of you that may be unfamiliar with the romper, I wish I were too. It's an adult onsie. This one was a silky patterned thing that had scrunching around the chest, then cinched at the waist, and went down into loose shorty shorts. This thing was gross. Coupled with the fact that I have my father's super long upper body and torso, as well as that this thing was fashioned for a 5' tall Traci, it wasn't for me. Use your imagination if you must, but be kind...it wasn't that bad.
P.S. Nothing was added to my closet today. I walked out of Target with a Father's day card and a bulk purchase of blank wedding cards that all my soon to be wedded friends and family will get their own unique Val inspired wedding greeting. Tada
1. I've been riding my bike a lot lately. I love it. Except for the one time I almost got the life squeezed out of me on Polk Blvd., I really love my time outdoors on 2 wheels. And, once I realized I look pretty sweet with piggy tails sticking out of the bottom of my dude picker upper (aka: helmet) I decided to wear it all the time, we all know I'm not the queen of coordination. Anyway, in an effort to avoid having a sore tush, I went to a bike shop one afternoon to see what the clearance rack had for padded shorts. That 26 minutes was quite possibly the most painful of 26 minutes of, if not my life, at least the first 12 hours of the day. Some a-hole made a requirement years ago that fitting rooms must have bright, hot lights, zero ventilation and the square footage that should be considered a confined space. Purchases: $0 at Rassmussen Bike Shop. After work that day I decided to tempt fate one more time and go to Scheels for a more extensive selection. As I looked around the spandex mecca, one of the sales guys came over to help me - a decision he must have seriously regretted minutes later. My first uncomfortable question, 'Do people wear underwear under these things?' He said that most don't, but guess what, I think he just wants me once step closer to getting drunk and naked, so I wear 2 pairs. I tried on what must have been 5 different spandex numbers. If I hadn't been so grouchy, I would have entertained the guy by trying on one of the triathlon onsies...but I wasn't in the mood, and only got more belligerent with every garment I tried. I thought I wanted to try the non-spandex padded shorts until the first couple pairs made me look like a lesbian gallivanting around in my brothers swimming trunks. The salesman had an encouraging positive look on his face when I emerged from the fitting room sweating, 'How'd they work?' he asked, 'well, if I was trying to pick up girls, they'd be great. Those are disgusting.' Ok, lets look at something else...we headed back to the spandex. We picked up a couple pair of normal black spandex shorts. Things were just about to get worse....after the episode at the bike shop, I kind of knew that I shouldn't do this, but I had my fingers crossed that it might be a better selection here. Let me tell you, I was wrong again. Biker shorts were designed by some 95 pound asshole who is mad that all their clothes are baggy. These shorts made my legs look like sausage links that were crimped off between links, but then a 4 year old undid the casing and it's just one long sausage with a big kink in the middle. Not pretty. I ended up with a skirt with padded shorts underneath. Why in the hell did I not start with that? I could have saved myself at least one month of therapy.
And, secondly...a couple hours ago I got home from a trip to Target. On my list was a father's day card, as well as 5 wedding cards to hold me over for the rest of the year (hopefully). Everyone knows that those lists are merely a suggestion, but since I'm working on a tight budget these days, I quickly ran thru the clearance rack for some summer work outfits. This equated to me finding a few uber casual numbers that I envisioned being able to throw a sweater over the top of and pulling it off on a casual Friday turned happy hour. Somehow a 'romper' made it into my selections, just to try it out. Ok, for those of you that may be unfamiliar with the romper, I wish I were too. It's an adult onsie. This one was a silky patterned thing that had scrunching around the chest, then cinched at the waist, and went down into loose shorty shorts. This thing was gross. Coupled with the fact that I have my father's super long upper body and torso, as well as that this thing was fashioned for a 5' tall Traci, it wasn't for me. Use your imagination if you must, but be kind...it wasn't that bad.
P.S. Nothing was added to my closet today. I walked out of Target with a Father's day card and a bulk purchase of blank wedding cards that all my soon to be wedded friends and family will get their own unique Val inspired wedding greeting. Tada
Thursday, April 28, 2011
I Really Want to Win an Ipad2
So I filled out this survey. Can you tell that I don't want to ride the bus? Or survey my neighbors to see if any of them work in Valley Junction, and want to be included in my irratic morning schedule? Given the obnoxious theme of my responses, you'll likely hear from me soon with the news that I have broken my leg or lost my license. Now please, all knock on wood in unison for me.
Wednesday, April 27, 2011
Tales of a Spray Tan
I just got my snookie on. My best friend, Jamie Chris gets married on Saturday. Exactly 3 days from today, 1 day after the royal wedding, if you're paying any attention to that whole mess. Anyway, if you know me, you know I'm a pale white goddess who happens to be moderately terrified of tanning booths as well as vane. I like to look my best, and right now, I'm not really feeling at the top of my game. I need some color. It's been a long winter. So, I've experimented with the spray tan booth before, and even tho this didn't happen, I wasn't completely satisfied...lots of weird stipulations, spotting and streaking. Due to the gravity of the position I'll be in come Saturday (MOH, people!) I figured I should go all out with the airbrush tan instead. In this application, an uber tan application artist, in my case, Amy, asks you to strip down to 'your comfort level' and put on the same hair net that Ross was wearing in the previous clip. I do as I'm asked and shiver patiently while waiting for her to return. Amy knocks on the door and lets herself back in the tiny cold room. I noticed a couple things while examining my nearly nude self in the wonky mirrors that are lining the room:
Luckily I do not have BDD, but I do need a tan. Good thing Amy is back. She gives quick orders on how our exchange is going to go....I go along with her. Throughout the process I hear these directions:
Directions upon completion of my experience with Amy. 'The longer you wait to shower, the longer your tan will stay. Now, when you're in the shower, the bronzer is going to come off, that's NATURAL, that's what is supposed to happen. Don't sweat tonight. Don't get wet. Don't wash your hands with soapy water. Wear loose clothing. Any questions?' Nope.
We go out to the register. Yes, I've re-robed by this point. Amy reiterates the top 4 points. Don't get wet, don't sweat, make sure to moisturize after showering, wear loose clothing. Have a nice night. See you next time!
I'll post pics tomorrow. Hopefully the fact that I just washed my hands doesn't make me turn out like a spotted Snookie. Keep your fingers crossed for single boys.
- I need a tan.
- My face looks really thin, but my stomach and thighs do not.
- This would be hell for someone with body dysphoria disorder.
Luckily I do not have BDD, but I do need a tan. Good thing Amy is back. She gives quick orders on how our exchange is going to go....I go along with her. Throughout the process I hear these directions:
- Spread your legs a little wider.
- Now, turn around, raise your arm, and bring one foot forward.
- Now spread your legs a little wider.
- Switch legs, bring your other arm up.
- Bring your feet together.
- Now spread your legs a little wider.
Directions upon completion of my experience with Amy. 'The longer you wait to shower, the longer your tan will stay. Now, when you're in the shower, the bronzer is going to come off, that's NATURAL, that's what is supposed to happen. Don't sweat tonight. Don't get wet. Don't wash your hands with soapy water. Wear loose clothing. Any questions?' Nope.
We go out to the register. Yes, I've re-robed by this point. Amy reiterates the top 4 points. Don't get wet, don't sweat, make sure to moisturize after showering, wear loose clothing. Have a nice night. See you next time!
I'll post pics tomorrow. Hopefully the fact that I just washed my hands doesn't make me turn out like a spotted Snookie. Keep your fingers crossed for single boys.
Monday, April 18, 2011
The Real Cost of Dating in America; Don't Bank on Your Assumptions
Wish I could share this with the last guy I stopped dating...I think he was one of those guys who seemed a little overly concerned with money, or as the old saying goes, just not that into me. Anyway, for one reason or another, seemed to be feeling the $$ pressure (that I don't feel like I put on anyone).
In all reality, I'm kind of intimidated by expensive nights out, and rarely impressed with someone throwing money around. And, to be honest, don't especially feel comfortable or enjoy spending time staring into another's eyes over a dimly lit tablescape. If given the choice of dinner at a nice restaurant or people watching at any random location throughout the city, I choose cheapo people watching. At least that way you can find common grounds between one another that is far more interesting than, 'So, how's the pasta?' The Real Cost of Dating in America; Don't Bank on Your Assumptions
In all reality, I'm kind of intimidated by expensive nights out, and rarely impressed with someone throwing money around. And, to be honest, don't especially feel comfortable or enjoy spending time staring into another's eyes over a dimly lit tablescape. If given the choice of dinner at a nice restaurant or people watching at any random location throughout the city, I choose cheapo people watching. At least that way you can find common grounds between one another that is far more interesting than, 'So, how's the pasta?' The Real Cost of Dating in America; Don't Bank on Your Assumptions
Thursday, April 14, 2011
This is how you make 300 Cupcakes and a sweet display
Step 1: We can have lots of fun. (NKOTB). Jk....
For reals, Traci made a few dozen decorated cupcakes for Kayla's shower, and after a few days of talking about how fun it would be to make them by the hundred instead of dozen, we volunteered to become quasi professional bakers for a day and 'do' her wedding. After a month of freaking out over not finding the right recipe - we weren't using boxes, people! - we finally decided on 3, all modified from Martha, baker blogs, and other miscellaneous websites we were scouring. Lemon with Lemon Cream Cheese Buttercream, Chocolate with Buttercream, and my accidental last minute modified Pina Colada with Fluffy White and Toasted Coconut. The details about my modification will come later.
Anyway, now that you have the idea of the professionals you're dealing with, enter Traci with the power tools and ideas.
For reals, Traci made a few dozen decorated cupcakes for Kayla's shower, and after a few days of talking about how fun it would be to make them by the hundred instead of dozen, we volunteered to become quasi professional bakers for a day and 'do' her wedding. After a month of freaking out over not finding the right recipe - we weren't using boxes, people! - we finally decided on 3, all modified from Martha, baker blogs, and other miscellaneous websites we were scouring. Lemon with Lemon Cream Cheese Buttercream, Chocolate with Buttercream, and my accidental last minute modified Pina Colada with Fluffy White and Toasted Coconut. The details about my modification will come later.
Our baking expeditions usually came after a night of this...
Starting the Display.
And now for the baking...someone named me might be trying to hide the fact that she may or may not be wearing a bra while baking at 7:50 a.m. on a Friday off from work, judge if you must.
And after a nice, coffee fueled 2+ hour drive on Saturday, we made it to Forest City to begin the set up and icing!
The Finished Product!
And finally, a word from my other half
You may notice while reading this entry that indeed, it is not from the fingertips of the original obnoxiousPOV, but I've aggreed to let favorite roommate take my platform and spout off for a bit...afterall, we did co-write the blog that I deleted in a fit of panic :) Enjoy!
I was reading up on some articles the other day and stumbled across two in particular that caught my eye: 10 things not to say to a stay-at-home mom and 10 things not to say to a working mom. I read them, laughed and thought “what about 10 things not to say to a single person?” I’ve come up with a list of 10 questions that I am tired of hearing. I am single, although I do have a significant other, and some of these questions I think people just assume it’s okay to ask since you’re dating. Well I’ve got news for you, it’s not. Stop asking, please.
When are you getting married?- Um just as soon as I have a ring on my finger I’ll let you know. This question is just awkward, especially if the SO is around. Yes we’ve talked about it and come to the conclusion that we’re in no rush. Why does every married couple think everyone has to get married? I figure about the time my married friends are getting divorced is the time I’ll get married – what a party that would be!
When are you having kids?-Ah yes, just because you enjoy not sleeping, never doing anything for yourself and not vacationing doesn’t mean that I’m ready to do all that. I’m not even sure I want kids – they seem like a LOT of work and I have a hard enough time managing myself. And PS, my dog has lived with my parents for 3 years now. I’ve been told you can’t do that with kids so I’ll just stick to myself and I for now.
When are you buying a house?- Great question. How about when I have absolutely nothing else I want to do with my money…or until I pay off the remodeling project from my first house with the ex. If anyone knows me, they know I’ve already been down this road and while it worked out well for him, his new wife and baby, it didn’t work out so well for me, financially. I still get the joy of owning a kitchen in a house I no longer live in every month on the 1st, and will for the next 83 years thanks to my fabulous credit cards.
Will you watch my child (for free)?-Okay, I don’t mind watching your child, really I don’t. But watching your child for FREE every time, well, it’s getting old. Yes, I realize you think I have nothing else to do with my time and that I probably just go to work and that’s it, but I have lots of other things that I like to do for myself. Stop taking advantage of the single friends – pay them as you’d pay a normal babysitter. We’re not there just to hang out with you 18 month old and watch cartoons.
Want me to put your name on the wedding/shower/etc gift?-I’ve been asked this question a lot recently and it’s SUPER annoying. A married friend of mine and I were in the same wedding and I volunteered to do (way too much) stuff for the wedding so I was cramped for time. But I don’t need you to ask me if I want you to put my name on the gift you and your husband are getting her, and only spending $20 on. Do you think about that question at all first?? “Lots of love and congratulations – Signed Wife, Husband and Traci.” I realize I may not have time to actually get them a gift to have at the wedding, but don’t make me look like I’m a complete slack-off and can’t do this on my own. Plus, my parents were at this wedding, I’d just tack my name onto their card if I was really pressed for time.
What do you do with all your free time?-Oh free time; I apparently have so much of it you think I can babysit anytime I’m needed. Well married folk, here is what I do with my free time. I hang out with friends, go to the gym, go to the bar, go on vacations, go shopping, and do pretty much anything I want to.
Have you talked to your ex?-Oh remember how I broke up with him? Why would I want to talk to him? Don’t you remember anything about our breakup?? I don’t ask you if you’ve talked to your ex, don’t ask me if I’ve talked to mine.
The following question does not pertain to single people in the least bit, but it’s one that’s been on my mind. For said wedding noted above, I volunteered myself and roomie to make 300 cupcakes for the reception. So most recently, we’ve been asked “How long does it take to make 300 cupcakes?” Well, considering we’d NEVER DONE IT BEFORE how the hell would I know? We watch Cupcake Wars, but those people are serious professionals and end up with baking assistants. But now after much prep and planning, I can actually answer this question honestly: 6 hours for baking, 2 hours for frosting prep and about 4 hours for frosting and set up. You may now ask me this question anytime you’d like, but please, stop asking me all those other dumb questions!
Wednesday, April 13, 2011
Must I share the road?
Here is my list of annoying drivers, stereotyped, generalized and listed in order of annoyance. Keep your words of offence to yourself.
1. The dipshit who doesn't read the spot on the registration sheet that clearly states "the sticker goes right here". With a hand and finger pointing to the place on the license plate, for the illiterate and non-English speaking amongst us. We don't need to know how many years you've maintained your license plates. We don't need to see that you support gay pride by making a rainbow of the past 7 years of colorful stickers around your plates. Just put the damn sticker over top of last years! You're doing it wrong.
2. I assume if you have the state flower or bird license plates, you may as well have the handicapped thing hanging from your rear view mirror. It translates into 'I'm going to hang out here at this green right turn arrow, or sit and watch the light turn from red to green and just chill'.
3. Everyone in West Des Moines. You think you're special. I don't care. But you're annoying as hell. I hate this town.
4. The guy who has the personalized plate LUVDOGS and I've inadvertently been stalking for the past few months. This guy sucks. He stops 10 feet before every intersection, is indecisive on which lane he wants to be in, and has 16 magnetic stickers all over his SUV. Dog paws, stickers about saving the animals...I get it. You've got 6 kennels in your precious urine scented cargo carrier, now move it.
5. The a-hole who speeds up to pass you, only to cut you off in the same lane, with less than 2 car lengths between you and the other car that said a-hole is now tailing. (Sidenote: I've been known to do this a time or two, but I always apologize sincerely to my passengers, and believe that translates to the person I just cut off.)
6. My co-worker 'Gene'. He's an idiot, and I had to ride to a customer's office with him a couple days ago. He is retiring soon, but still has the road rage and impatience of a 16 year old driver who was just given a 10 year old Camry with a stick shift. Gene makes it onto all of my annoying lists these days tho, including: People Who Talk, People who Sit Next To Me, and Annoying People who Hate Life, but insist on remaining in mine and making it suck.
I need anger management.
1. The dipshit who doesn't read the spot on the registration sheet that clearly states "the sticker goes right here". With a hand and finger pointing to the place on the license plate, for the illiterate and non-English speaking amongst us. We don't need to know how many years you've maintained your license plates. We don't need to see that you support gay pride by making a rainbow of the past 7 years of colorful stickers around your plates. Just put the damn sticker over top of last years! You're doing it wrong.
2. I assume if you have the state flower or bird license plates, you may as well have the handicapped thing hanging from your rear view mirror. It translates into 'I'm going to hang out here at this green right turn arrow, or sit and watch the light turn from red to green and just chill'.
3. Everyone in West Des Moines. You think you're special. I don't care. But you're annoying as hell. I hate this town.
4. The guy who has the personalized plate LUVDOGS and I've inadvertently been stalking for the past few months. This guy sucks. He stops 10 feet before every intersection, is indecisive on which lane he wants to be in, and has 16 magnetic stickers all over his SUV. Dog paws, stickers about saving the animals...I get it. You've got 6 kennels in your precious urine scented cargo carrier, now move it.
5. The a-hole who speeds up to pass you, only to cut you off in the same lane, with less than 2 car lengths between you and the other car that said a-hole is now tailing. (Sidenote: I've been known to do this a time or two, but I always apologize sincerely to my passengers, and believe that translates to the person I just cut off.)
6. My co-worker 'Gene'. He's an idiot, and I had to ride to a customer's office with him a couple days ago. He is retiring soon, but still has the road rage and impatience of a 16 year old driver who was just given a 10 year old Camry with a stick shift. Gene makes it onto all of my annoying lists these days tho, including: People Who Talk, People who Sit Next To Me, and Annoying People who Hate Life, but insist on remaining in mine and making it suck.
I need anger management.
Tuesday, March 22, 2011
Things I noticed today
1. Gangsters getting arrested on Merle Hay Road attract a lot of attention. Especially when there is an ambulance, fire truck and 2-3 police cruisers lined up at 5:30 p.m. close to a very busy intersection. Additional note, when your huge baggy pants previously fitted around your mid buttcrack are now around your ankles, that really makes the rubber neckers take a second glance. Nice boxers, bro.
2. If you have a completely sweat soaked t-shirt with a gaping 9" diameter hole exposing the entire left shoulder blade, does it make you feel like you must be working out more than everyone else? I have at least 6 t-shirts I could donate to this sad, pathetic cause....but hey, feel the burn, man. Maybe he's trying to see how long he can carry on with this get up before the gym gives him one of their complimentary 'Luv Ur Body' tees.
3. If I weren't blogging, my home computer would be rendered completely useless this Lenten season. Tonight instead of stalking facebook friends or watching local news coverage of the impending doom headed to the Des Moines area, I watched a MSNBC program about Facebook taking over the world. One of the main issues noted by Lester Holt were Facebook's constantly changing privacy settings. Some idiot woman was on looking for sympathy after she was fired from her teaching position because some parents noticed that she was venting on her Facebook page about her job and students. If you don't know how to use it, control the privacy settings, etc., don't use it! There is nothing requiring anyone to have a personal Facebook account. Sidenote: if I recall correctly, this teacher was in the IT/technology field. Something tells me our students are better off with her early retirement.
2. If you have a completely sweat soaked t-shirt with a gaping 9" diameter hole exposing the entire left shoulder blade, does it make you feel like you must be working out more than everyone else? I have at least 6 t-shirts I could donate to this sad, pathetic cause....but hey, feel the burn, man. Maybe he's trying to see how long he can carry on with this get up before the gym gives him one of their complimentary 'Luv Ur Body' tees.
3. If I weren't blogging, my home computer would be rendered completely useless this Lenten season. Tonight instead of stalking facebook friends or watching local news coverage of the impending doom headed to the Des Moines area, I watched a MSNBC program about Facebook taking over the world. One of the main issues noted by Lester Holt were Facebook's constantly changing privacy settings. Some idiot woman was on looking for sympathy after she was fired from her teaching position because some parents noticed that she was venting on her Facebook page about her job and students. If you don't know how to use it, control the privacy settings, etc., don't use it! There is nothing requiring anyone to have a personal Facebook account. Sidenote: if I recall correctly, this teacher was in the IT/technology field. Something tells me our students are better off with her early retirement.
Tuesday, March 15, 2011
It’s Time To Play March Beard Madness!
Best bracket I've ever filled out.
After 'Dad in the early 80's' beats out Kenny Rogers, I think Jesus and 'Dad' will have a tough match up in the final 4. On the other side of the bracket, Raffi and Kimbo Slice are bound to have dramatic dual. In my opinion it'll come down to a championship round between 'Dad' and Kimbo. Your bracket may pan out differently, but that's probably because your dad didn't have such sweet side burns.
It’s Time To Play March Beard Madness!
After 'Dad in the early 80's' beats out Kenny Rogers, I think Jesus and 'Dad' will have a tough match up in the final 4. On the other side of the bracket, Raffi and Kimbo Slice are bound to have dramatic dual. In my opinion it'll come down to a championship round between 'Dad' and Kimbo. Your bracket may pan out differently, but that's probably because your dad didn't have such sweet side burns.
It’s Time To Play March Beard Madness!
Monday, March 14, 2011
The only person who pulls off a matching sweatsuit is Betty White.
First, it's imperative that you watch this.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=E_0Ta_DIWuU
Now, picture Phoebe running on a treadmill in front of me for 20 minutes. Wearing flare khaki pants that are 3 inches too short. At one point I think the drawstring may have been creeping from front to back between her legs. Yes, I was paying very close attention. Either that or she was working up enough friction to burn a hole in the crotch. I couldn't stick around to see the fallout.
Meanwhile, up trots a middle aged gal sporting a navy polyester sweatsuit that was tight 15 pounds ago. She is head to toe in navy blue, because what goes better with your navy sweatsuit than your navy Dallas Cowboy's hat. Fancy.
And just when you think I'm picking on older people, oh no. The young aren't immune to these fashion faux pas or my judgemental eye either. Some young cat made about 6 laps around the gym getting water every 10 minutes or so, all the while wearing white spandex capri pants, and I'm pretty sure there were no undies underneath. Sure, she would put me to shame in any body attractiveness scale or contest, so, yes, I'm probably being jealous, but I've said it once and I'll say it again. If I ever open up a gym there will be a dress code that requires all shorts or pants to be black, and everyone would have to wear a shirt that didn't expose their nipples from the arm holes. You may think that your teal shorts are really cute and match your Reebok t-shirt so nicely, but I have news for you, when you're not concentrating on your snuggie, I am, and I can almost read the Hanes tag of your underwear thru your shorts. Breathable fabric, people!
When I wasn't considering poking my eyes out I was choking on the overwhelming cologne from the fellows on each side of me. Goodness gracious, man! A shower does the same thing without offending everyone in your wake.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=E_0Ta_DIWuU
Now, picture Phoebe running on a treadmill in front of me for 20 minutes. Wearing flare khaki pants that are 3 inches too short. At one point I think the drawstring may have been creeping from front to back between her legs. Yes, I was paying very close attention. Either that or she was working up enough friction to burn a hole in the crotch. I couldn't stick around to see the fallout.
Meanwhile, up trots a middle aged gal sporting a navy polyester sweatsuit that was tight 15 pounds ago. She is head to toe in navy blue, because what goes better with your navy sweatsuit than your navy Dallas Cowboy's hat. Fancy.
And just when you think I'm picking on older people, oh no. The young aren't immune to these fashion faux pas or my judgemental eye either. Some young cat made about 6 laps around the gym getting water every 10 minutes or so, all the while wearing white spandex capri pants, and I'm pretty sure there were no undies underneath. Sure, she would put me to shame in any body attractiveness scale or contest, so, yes, I'm probably being jealous, but I've said it once and I'll say it again. If I ever open up a gym there will be a dress code that requires all shorts or pants to be black, and everyone would have to wear a shirt that didn't expose their nipples from the arm holes. You may think that your teal shorts are really cute and match your Reebok t-shirt so nicely, but I have news for you, when you're not concentrating on your snuggie, I am, and I can almost read the Hanes tag of your underwear thru your shorts. Breathable fabric, people!
When I wasn't considering poking my eyes out I was choking on the overwhelming cologne from the fellows on each side of me. Goodness gracious, man! A shower does the same thing without offending everyone in your wake.
Thursday, March 10, 2011
April - this is for you!
Someone find where this prepubescent crooner is going to be in concert. I feel a roadtrip coming on.
Wednesday, March 9, 2011
That's right, I did it!
I gave up Facebook for Lent. So here's to 40 days and nights of no status updates, no bitching about the stupidity of some people on my news feed, no moderate stalking, and no uploading sweet pics of my weekend debauchery. Luckily for you, dear readers, I have a blogger ap on my phone...you may just get some random 160 character posts if I find something extremely entertaining that I must share with cyberspace immediately.
I've been throwing random topics around recently, I don't know, to maybe get some consistency on here...and I'm guessing Lent will be a good reason to blog more. Hopefully that isn't more self destructive, but I'm sure it'll be better than the other option....chronicling the bipolar disorder of my underwear drawer. Roommate and I had a brief (no pun intended, for real) conversation about the psychosis of our underwear drawers. And since I believe I wear the same 10 pair in rotation depending on laundry day or tight pants, I was going to hold off on doing undie laundry until I actually needed to, like wear every single pair in my drawer, and journal about my adventures. To make that process easier, I started by throwing away at least 15 pairs that I knew would end in either tears or excessive bitchiness. This is still an option that hasn't been ruled out.
I've been throwing random topics around recently, I don't know, to maybe get some consistency on here...and I'm guessing Lent will be a good reason to blog more. Hopefully that isn't more self destructive, but I'm sure it'll be better than the other option....chronicling the bipolar disorder of my underwear drawer. Roommate and I had a brief (no pun intended, for real) conversation about the psychosis of our underwear drawers. And since I believe I wear the same 10 pair in rotation depending on laundry day or tight pants, I was going to hold off on doing undie laundry until I actually needed to, like wear every single pair in my drawer, and journal about my adventures. To make that process easier, I started by throwing away at least 15 pairs that I knew would end in either tears or excessive bitchiness. This is still an option that hasn't been ruled out.
Tuesday, February 22, 2011
Stupid Gym
I make a very concerted effort to not bitch about the gym publicly because I honestly think it's the most annoying thing to read about, but sometimes it gets out of hand and I can't take it anymore. So if you're equally annoyed by such carrying on, this is your warning to close the window and move on.
Tonight during spin class I'm racing (in place), watching every minute go by slower than the one before it, and on comes what the teacher must have thought would have had a catchy enough beat to keep us pedalling along. Wrong. The only way I can explain it is to make you imagine a Spanish inspired mariachi type tune, set to a techno beat. Shoot me. I've walked out of a class before because of horrible music, and I was strongly considering it again. Of all the songs that you can choose from, you pick this!? Pedaling faster does not make this music go away faster. And it was painfully long...
Additionally, my super long hippie hair is getting really long again. I hope there's a kid out there looking for a wig made of my hair again because my Tony Little ponky tail is tempting me to cut it off in the locker room after each workout. It's not cute at all.
Also, en route to the gym I heard LeAnn Rimes song, Commitment. Touche' LeAnn. Nice work out of you. That is obviously what you were looking for.
And then, on the way home, I heard She Thinks all the Good Ones are Gone by Pam Tillis - talk about a song to put you on the edge of a cliff! I actually laughed hysterically thinking back to Grandma crying about me not having a picture of my husband and kids at Christmas...but really, it's a horrible song. Don't get me wrong, I enjoy a 'real life ' (read: realistic not rom com happy ending) ending just as much as the next cynical biotch, but that one is a real humdinger.
Tonight during spin class I'm racing (in place), watching every minute go by slower than the one before it, and on comes what the teacher must have thought would have had a catchy enough beat to keep us pedalling along. Wrong. The only way I can explain it is to make you imagine a Spanish inspired mariachi type tune, set to a techno beat. Shoot me. I've walked out of a class before because of horrible music, and I was strongly considering it again. Of all the songs that you can choose from, you pick this!? Pedaling faster does not make this music go away faster. And it was painfully long...
Additionally, my super long hippie hair is getting really long again. I hope there's a kid out there looking for a wig made of my hair again because my Tony Little ponky tail is tempting me to cut it off in the locker room after each workout. It's not cute at all.
Also, en route to the gym I heard LeAnn Rimes song, Commitment. Touche' LeAnn. Nice work out of you. That is obviously what you were looking for.
And then, on the way home, I heard She Thinks all the Good Ones are Gone by Pam Tillis - talk about a song to put you on the edge of a cliff! I actually laughed hysterically thinking back to Grandma crying about me not having a picture of my husband and kids at Christmas...but really, it's a horrible song. Don't get me wrong, I enjoy a 'real life ' (read: realistic not rom com happy ending) ending just as much as the next cynical biotch, but that one is a real humdinger.
Sunday, February 20, 2011
We've got to be getting close to Fertile!
ROAD TRIP! Old roommie, Kayla is getting married in March, so me and a few friends headed north to Forest City to help celebrate her last night out as a wild single gal. Picked up Reannan and Kristina and then headed to Ankeny to pick up Jamie Chris. As we were on our way to get JC, Reannan mentioned that she had been out this way returning a stripper's fireman costume from a party she went to. Yes, same stripper from previously told, 'Then I went on a date with a stripper' post. Hilariously small world!
After about 30 minutes on the road we got a little restless so I popped in a sweet CD I had made earlier that morning. A little Salt-N-Pepa will get this road trip riled up! Guaranteed. We rocked out to a couple more songs, and then came super hit, Grow A Pear, by our favorite party girl, Ke$ha. Probably the best song ever. Another hour goes by, we haven't turned since we got on the interstate...finally find our exit, and the first booming metropolis that we see with a gas pump and open station is a Pronto store in Fertile. We stop in Fertile to relieve our bursting bladders and bring the cooler from the trunk to the front of the car. I make a comment that we have 3 - 12 packs of Busch Light amongst the 4 of us, if we run out of beer, tomorrow is going to suck, really bad (stay tuned to how this ends up). Let me say that the 23 year old cashier at Pronto looked us all up and down like we had a tit growing on our foreheads. We agreed that Fertile was the type of place where you either buy a winning lottery ticket or are killed in a dramatic and gruesome manner that would surely inspire a Lifetime movie. The girls get a Busch Light for the last 10 minutes of our trip (or so says the gps on my phone that lost signal while we were in Fertile). We make our way into Forest City and find Jeanna's house where the party is starting at. Amazed, we show up exactly on time - 7 bells! Sup hoes?!!! Everyone introduces themselves and says how they know Kayla, the first girl introduces herself as Crystal...as she gathers her thoughts, pausing before she says how she knows Kayla, I yell out 'Bowersox'. Went over like a lead balloon. No one thinks I'm as funny as I do. Damn it.
The bus shows up a couple hours later and we hop aboard, all clad in white tops....we are the angels in a black light heaven, or a sexy KKK road trip.
Awesomeness ensues, one trip thru the Pamida parking lot, a little pole dancing, some jell-o shots, and screaming along to party songs as we travel all around northern Iowa in our sweet bus. We were at each location just long enough to chug a beer and sell a couple wiener pops. At one of the last stops I apparently made friends with some strange girl. She wanted to join our party and I encouraged her to come along. Someone else must have had at least one functioning brain cell and told her that it wasn't a very good idea. We leave and go to the next bar. By this point our bachelorette had been puking her guts out for at least a 1/2 hour. We make one last stop, in which I opted to stay on the bus to terrorize Kayla. The girls that went in that bar are claiming that my girlfriend beat us to this bar and was looking for me :) Go me....I think I'm better at picking up girls than I am boys.
Now headed home, we drop pukey McGee off at her house with a bunch of the other girls that were staying with her. Me and my crew stay on the bus for the last stop. We somehow missed the memo that everyone was staying at Kayla's, and ended up staying at her brother and sister in law's house, with Kayla's mom - we all grab our bags, pillows and blankets and make our nests in the middle of the living room floor. The other 3 change into jammies, sweats and tshirts. I unbuttoned my jeans, left my belt buckled and added another layer of tshirt to my outfit. I don't just sleep, I go into lockdown mode like I'm in prison or something. In the morning we wake up to the loudest rumble of thunder I've ever heard, Jamie had drifted off at some point in the night and made herself at home in the master bedroom. We're just glad she didn't piss the bed. The weather isn't looking very good so we decide to just get on the road. And the roads sucked! Bad. I think it took at least a half hour to make the 15 minute trip back to Fertile. We didn't stop this time. There were at least four or five times that the car was veering off the road, and I steered to correct, and the car didn't react in the least bit, I had the steering wheel completely cranked, and the wheels didn't move at all. The freezing rain/sleet was piled up in the road and it was horrible. Luckily by the time we made it onto the interstate the roads improved a little bit and we stopped to got some food. This is where Kristina reminded me of my girl picking up skills...what an awesome day!
After about 30 minutes on the road we got a little restless so I popped in a sweet CD I had made earlier that morning. A little Salt-N-Pepa will get this road trip riled up! Guaranteed. We rocked out to a couple more songs, and then came super hit, Grow A Pear, by our favorite party girl, Ke$ha. Probably the best song ever. Another hour goes by, we haven't turned since we got on the interstate...finally find our exit, and the first booming metropolis that we see with a gas pump and open station is a Pronto store in Fertile. We stop in Fertile to relieve our bursting bladders and bring the cooler from the trunk to the front of the car. I make a comment that we have 3 - 12 packs of Busch Light amongst the 4 of us, if we run out of beer, tomorrow is going to suck, really bad (stay tuned to how this ends up). Let me say that the 23 year old cashier at Pronto looked us all up and down like we had a tit growing on our foreheads. We agreed that Fertile was the type of place where you either buy a winning lottery ticket or are killed in a dramatic and gruesome manner that would surely inspire a Lifetime movie. The girls get a Busch Light for the last 10 minutes of our trip (or so says the gps on my phone that lost signal while we were in Fertile). We make our way into Forest City and find Jeanna's house where the party is starting at. Amazed, we show up exactly on time - 7 bells! Sup hoes?!!! Everyone introduces themselves and says how they know Kayla, the first girl introduces herself as Crystal...as she gathers her thoughts, pausing before she says how she knows Kayla, I yell out 'Bowersox'. Went over like a lead balloon. No one thinks I'm as funny as I do. Damn it.
The bus shows up a couple hours later and we hop aboard, all clad in white tops....we are the angels in a black light heaven, or a sexy KKK road trip.
Awesomeness ensues, one trip thru the Pamida parking lot, a little pole dancing, some jell-o shots, and screaming along to party songs as we travel all around northern Iowa in our sweet bus. We were at each location just long enough to chug a beer and sell a couple wiener pops. At one of the last stops I apparently made friends with some strange girl. She wanted to join our party and I encouraged her to come along. Someone else must have had at least one functioning brain cell and told her that it wasn't a very good idea. We leave and go to the next bar. By this point our bachelorette had been puking her guts out for at least a 1/2 hour. We make one last stop, in which I opted to stay on the bus to terrorize Kayla. The girls that went in that bar are claiming that my girlfriend beat us to this bar and was looking for me :) Go me....I think I'm better at picking up girls than I am boys.
Now headed home, we drop pukey McGee off at her house with a bunch of the other girls that were staying with her. Me and my crew stay on the bus for the last stop. We somehow missed the memo that everyone was staying at Kayla's, and ended up staying at her brother and sister in law's house, with Kayla's mom - we all grab our bags, pillows and blankets and make our nests in the middle of the living room floor. The other 3 change into jammies, sweats and tshirts. I unbuttoned my jeans, left my belt buckled and added another layer of tshirt to my outfit. I don't just sleep, I go into lockdown mode like I'm in prison or something. In the morning we wake up to the loudest rumble of thunder I've ever heard, Jamie had drifted off at some point in the night and made herself at home in the master bedroom. We're just glad she didn't piss the bed. The weather isn't looking very good so we decide to just get on the road. And the roads sucked! Bad. I think it took at least a half hour to make the 15 minute trip back to Fertile. We didn't stop this time. There were at least four or five times that the car was veering off the road, and I steered to correct, and the car didn't react in the least bit, I had the steering wheel completely cranked, and the wheels didn't move at all. The freezing rain/sleet was piled up in the road and it was horrible. Luckily by the time we made it onto the interstate the roads improved a little bit and we stopped to got some food. This is where Kristina reminded me of my girl picking up skills...what an awesome day!
Wednesday, February 16, 2011
the reason for 2 porn shop visits.
Published with Blogger-droid v1.6.5
This was meant to start differently...
Two purchases at the same porn shop in 2 days and what sets off my Visa Fraud Alert? A $33 transaction at Target! I understand they're keeping a close eye on me since my Las Vegas fiasco, but jeepers! Initially I thought that my errands may appear pretty random, but to set off fraud alerts without even leaving town! Go me.
Tuesday, February 15, 2011
today
I woke up at 5:30 a.m. to my house alarm system going off. It's been a little fickle lately, so I wasn't concerned, I just had to get out of bed and beat the shit out of the panel. Done.
I couldn't get back to sleep so I decided I should just go to work early because I had a horrible project bidding today and just didn't have my ducks in a row for it. I get to work at 7:00 a.m. and no one else is there. Call co-worker Jeff. He gives me instructions on how to get into the building. I recall him saying something about going thru the warehouse so as to not set the alarm off, but as I usually take directions, I summarize 7 sentences into 6 words, and proceed. I open the overhead door, and walk in the normal way...security alarm starts blaring. This is not my day. The security people end up giving our CFO a early morning wake up call, she tells them there's just a ding bat blonde running thru the office and there was no need for police.
I get some work done on my bid....it still sucks, and I end up revising it and faxing it out 3 different times. I really suck at my job.
I couldn't get back to sleep so I decided I should just go to work early because I had a horrible project bidding today and just didn't have my ducks in a row for it. I get to work at 7:00 a.m. and no one else is there. Call co-worker Jeff. He gives me instructions on how to get into the building. I recall him saying something about going thru the warehouse so as to not set the alarm off, but as I usually take directions, I summarize 7 sentences into 6 words, and proceed. I open the overhead door, and walk in the normal way...security alarm starts blaring. This is not my day. The security people end up giving our CFO a early morning wake up call, she tells them there's just a ding bat blonde running thru the office and there was no need for police.
I get some work done on my bid....it still sucks, and I end up revising it and faxing it out 3 different times. I really suck at my job.
Friday, February 11, 2011
Fun with paint
Sometimes when you read something that some idiot took the time to post on facebook, do you wonder, 'why the hell did you waste your time?' And then get mad that you wasted brain power reading it?
And secondly, I always fill out surveys. regardless of the question, I can always find a fun way to answer it.
Thursday, February 10, 2011
Sunday, February 6, 2011
My life plays out like a Ke$ha song..Vegas, Part 1
For those dear readers who maybe unfamiliar with the fantastic artist, Ke$ha, I could post a youtube link, but you'd likely remain unimpressed. So without further adue, here's my Vegas story.
My office sent me and a few co-workers to Las Vegas for the annual HVAC AHR Convention. I went out a couple days before the convention to get my crazies out. Not sure how this actually worked out. I think the answer to that question may be in the eye of the answerer.
Thru facebook I arranged to hook up with a couple girls that I went to high school with. When I landed in the desert I was feeling kind of exhausted from a long day of traveling, but it's Vegas, BABY, so I perservered. My boss, Renee and I checked into our condo, and then headed down to the strip around 8:00 that night to meet the girls at Planet Hollywood. From there we decided to go to a run down casino on the strip called O'Shay's. What a blast this was! It was like all of the beloved dive bars that I had just left in Iowa and I was in heaven. We walked to the back where a bunch of whoopin and hollering was going on. There were 8 beer pong tables set up with a couple tables of guys screaming about their little victories. Kind of felt like heaven's doors opened up and angels were singing. Dramatic, I know, but I'm not a fan of gambling so this was at least up my alley a little bit.
We nab a table and I start sinking balls. For about 3 minutes I felt like I was on top of the world. I even managed a few defensive moves. One involved a huge extension of my wingspan, catapolting the blocked ping pong ball across the bar. I believe it was this move that I caught my big ring on my necklace and ripped it frommy neck. No big whoop, I fixed it and was back in business. But then the fact that I hadn't eaten for about 12 hours and 2 time zones ago started catching up with me. My skills deteriorated with my sobriety. But we rocked those pong tables, damn it.
At some point I got a little overwhelmed...could have been the flirty Canadian named Josh, could have been my extreme hunger, but I unoffically decided it was the end of the night, somewhere around 1, or 3 - no clue really. I ran out of the casino (without telling anyone) into the chilly desert night and hailed a cab. Habib! Take me to Tahiti on Tropicana, pronto. Oh, wait. I'm hungry. Can you drop me off at Denny's instead. Habib was legitamately concerned about my safety, I thanked him for his service and concern, paid the man, and dashed into Denny's.
I recall very little from Denny's, but I do know I was amongst about 4 other patrons and had hashbrowns. I do love hashbrowns and breakfast at 3 a.m. I finished my meal, paid with cash and stumbled across the parking lot to my locked down resort, found my key, and let myself into the room.
Since I was only going to be at this resort for a couple nights, I thought I should take full advantage of all the ammenities it had to offer, so I filled the jet tub and took a swim. Miracle #3 of the night, I didn't drown.
I woke up around 11:00 a.m. feeling like I had been run over and backed up on by a Mack truck. It was brutal. I had no snacks or refreshments of any kind in my room so I had to find some. I wanted to head down to the convenience store in the lobby and see if they had any juice or liquids of some kind, but this is where the first serious hiccup reared it's ugly head. I couldn't find my room key anywhere! Nowhere. Unfortunately my room key wasn't the only thing missing. I was also missing the wallet that contained said key that was also the home of my drivers license, debit card, and credit cards. Things aren't going well for me, but I was still moderately intoxicated so didn't think it was that big of a deal. Convinced I would find it all because, 'I MADE IT INTO THE ROOM, IT'S GOTTA BE THERE SOMEWHERE!' I really wasn't too upset about it. Emptyhanded, I wandered down to the front desk to request a copy of my room key. It went a little like this:
Me: Hi, I need to get a copy of my room key, I misplaced mine last night.
Clerk: Ok, can I see a photo id?
M: No, it's lost with the room key.
C: Ooohkay, do you have the credit card that you reserved the room with?
M: No, it's also with the room key and my drivers license.
C: Well, ma'am, I can't just give you a copy of your room key without some kind of proof that you are indeed the tentant of the room. Do you know the last 4 digits of the credit card that you reserved the room under?
M: No. So, you're telling me that the dumbest thing I could do at this point was to wander down here with nothing but my phone with all other forms of identification locked in my room.
C: Yes, ma'am. I'm sorry.
You have got to be kidding me! I plop myself down in a chair in the lobby. Time to think about things for a moment. The Internet in the lobby required a credit card to use and everything else that makes my smart phone, smart...was not working, so this was increasingly difficult. My co-worker Jason had arrived the night before as well and I had been texting him back and forth...he had his Internet set up and was working. I called him and asked him to google my bank. He got me the phone number to my bank, I called them, got the last 4 digits of my debit card, gave the number to the hotel clerk, who immediately issued me a new card. One step closer to functionality...
I went back to my room, showered, put on my fanciest Kelley's on Beaver - Des Moines, Iowa t-shirt and wandered my dumbass down to the strip to have lunch at Margaritaville with my unimpressed boss. This was a 3 mile walk, so I had plenty of time to think of solutions to my problems. I called roommate Traci to keep her in the loop on my stupidity, thru this conversation we managed to work up a plan so that she could meet up with another one of my co-workers and get him my passport so that I wouldn't be stuck in Vegas forever. Thank God for that! I enjoyed the best ever Cheeseburger in Paradise courtesy of Jimmy Buffet. It was simply delightful. I caught a shuttle back to co-worker Jason's hotel because by this point my drunken ambition had run out and I was exhausted. I used his internet to start canceling my misplaced credit cards. I took advantage to the 14 minutes of internet to let all my fans in facebook world know that I was a little down on my luck....and left that status for them to discuss amongst themselves for the next 6 days.
I spent Friday night snoozing at the hotel. Saturday I woke up still a little disoriented. We moved resorts this morning, and later went down to the strip with Renee to have brunch at Bobby Flay's restaurant in Caesar's Palace, Mesa Grill. It was delish. Walking into Caesar's I had flashbacks to the movie, The Hangover. I seriously felt like there was a soundtrack to my life at that moment. Still feeling a little out of sorts, I headed back to my hotel to sleep a little more of Vegas off. I was getting my ass kicked at this point. A couple hours later, things started getting worse, having discovered that I probably had a bladder infection. I called the front desk for advice for where to go to see a doctor, after 3 strike outs, I finally found a walk in that was open 24 hours/7 days a week. This is going to be awesome. Co-worker Jason gave me a ride to the clinic, but after I discovered it would be a 2-1/2 hour wait to be seen by a doctor, I sent him back to the hotel. So there I sat. Pathetically bawling on the phone to my sister about what an idiot I was. Really the low point of the trip by this time. How much more pathetic and sad can I get, sitting in the waiting room of a walk in clinic off of Wynn Avenue...fantastic.
Eventually I was seen by the doctor, who thankfully gave me a prescription for a 7 day supply of antibiotics. This ended up being my only souvenier from the trip. Before leaving the clinic I asked the receptionist to call me a taxi. A mini van pulled up about 45 seconds later and a short bald man in his 40s greated me with a robust, 'Hey, Baby, how you doin tonight?!
Me: 'Well, I could be better.'
Cabbie: 'Oh, I'm sorry, baby, that was a silly question. You gonna be okay, baby, right?'
M: 'Yes, I'll be fine,' I managed to sputter out with tears in my throat.
C: 'Ok, honey, where you goin tonight?'
M: 'I have to get to a pharmacy, and then eventually to Tahiti Villiage on Las Vegas Blvd.
We discussed different routes of making this all happen, he decided the best route, I went with it. Turns out my cabbie's name was Luca. He is Italian-Puerto Rican. He told me how I was 'just beautiful, baby' and 'was going to break hearts someday'. He gave me his phone number in case I couldn't find a cab after getting my prescription filled, and let me out at a 24 hour CVS. Talk about an exciting Saturday night.
I walked up to the pharmacy counter with my Rx in hand. The pharmacy tech requested my insurance card and ID. At this point I had been using an expired paper id that the state of Iowa gives you when you renew your license before they print the real card and send it to you in the mail. So that piece of paper and my insurance card were floating around in my huge purse. The lady could recognize my frustration and told me to relax, it would be fine. I emptied my purse out on the counter, finally finding the elusive cards (this reminds me that I need a new purse)! My prescription was filled in less than 10 minutes. I walked out of the CVS, wondering if I was really going to have to call my friend Luca. I looked around the area, no taxis in sight. Then I saw a cab driver walking out of the 7-11 across the 4 lane median street. He was getting into his van and backing out by the time I realized that this was probably my only chance to not have to walk all the way back to my condo. I started sprinting across the street. The driver was negotiating a right turn onto Las Vegas Blvd when I reached the van and started pounding on the window. I got his attention! He let me in, and he took me the $7 cab ride to my condo. This took the last of my cash, but I was okay with it because I was home for the night and had some drugs to take.
I set my alarm for 5:30 a.m.for Sunday morning, and snuggled in for the night. The work portion of this week was just starting, and I had some redeeming to do!
My office sent me and a few co-workers to Las Vegas for the annual HVAC AHR Convention. I went out a couple days before the convention to get my crazies out. Not sure how this actually worked out. I think the answer to that question may be in the eye of the answerer.
Thru facebook I arranged to hook up with a couple girls that I went to high school with. When I landed in the desert I was feeling kind of exhausted from a long day of traveling, but it's Vegas, BABY, so I perservered. My boss, Renee and I checked into our condo, and then headed down to the strip around 8:00 that night to meet the girls at Planet Hollywood. From there we decided to go to a run down casino on the strip called O'Shay's. What a blast this was! It was like all of the beloved dive bars that I had just left in Iowa and I was in heaven. We walked to the back where a bunch of whoopin and hollering was going on. There were 8 beer pong tables set up with a couple tables of guys screaming about their little victories. Kind of felt like heaven's doors opened up and angels were singing. Dramatic, I know, but I'm not a fan of gambling so this was at least up my alley a little bit.
We nab a table and I start sinking balls. For about 3 minutes I felt like I was on top of the world. I even managed a few defensive moves. One involved a huge extension of my wingspan, catapolting the blocked ping pong ball across the bar. I believe it was this move that I caught my big ring on my necklace and ripped it frommy neck. No big whoop, I fixed it and was back in business. But then the fact that I hadn't eaten for about 12 hours and 2 time zones ago started catching up with me. My skills deteriorated with my sobriety. But we rocked those pong tables, damn it.
At some point I got a little overwhelmed...could have been the flirty Canadian named Josh, could have been my extreme hunger, but I unoffically decided it was the end of the night, somewhere around 1, or 3 - no clue really. I ran out of the casino (without telling anyone) into the chilly desert night and hailed a cab. Habib! Take me to Tahiti on Tropicana, pronto. Oh, wait. I'm hungry. Can you drop me off at Denny's instead. Habib was legitamately concerned about my safety, I thanked him for his service and concern, paid the man, and dashed into Denny's.
I recall very little from Denny's, but I do know I was amongst about 4 other patrons and had hashbrowns. I do love hashbrowns and breakfast at 3 a.m. I finished my meal, paid with cash and stumbled across the parking lot to my locked down resort, found my key, and let myself into the room.
Since I was only going to be at this resort for a couple nights, I thought I should take full advantage of all the ammenities it had to offer, so I filled the jet tub and took a swim. Miracle #3 of the night, I didn't drown.
I woke up around 11:00 a.m. feeling like I had been run over and backed up on by a Mack truck. It was brutal. I had no snacks or refreshments of any kind in my room so I had to find some. I wanted to head down to the convenience store in the lobby and see if they had any juice or liquids of some kind, but this is where the first serious hiccup reared it's ugly head. I couldn't find my room key anywhere! Nowhere. Unfortunately my room key wasn't the only thing missing. I was also missing the wallet that contained said key that was also the home of my drivers license, debit card, and credit cards. Things aren't going well for me, but I was still moderately intoxicated so didn't think it was that big of a deal. Convinced I would find it all because, 'I MADE IT INTO THE ROOM, IT'S GOTTA BE THERE SOMEWHERE!' I really wasn't too upset about it. Emptyhanded, I wandered down to the front desk to request a copy of my room key. It went a little like this:
Me: Hi, I need to get a copy of my room key, I misplaced mine last night.
Clerk: Ok, can I see a photo id?
M: No, it's lost with the room key.
C: Ooohkay, do you have the credit card that you reserved the room with?
M: No, it's also with the room key and my drivers license.
C: Well, ma'am, I can't just give you a copy of your room key without some kind of proof that you are indeed the tentant of the room. Do you know the last 4 digits of the credit card that you reserved the room under?
M: No. So, you're telling me that the dumbest thing I could do at this point was to wander down here with nothing but my phone with all other forms of identification locked in my room.
C: Yes, ma'am. I'm sorry.
You have got to be kidding me! I plop myself down in a chair in the lobby. Time to think about things for a moment. The Internet in the lobby required a credit card to use and everything else that makes my smart phone, smart...was not working, so this was increasingly difficult. My co-worker Jason had arrived the night before as well and I had been texting him back and forth...he had his Internet set up and was working. I called him and asked him to google my bank. He got me the phone number to my bank, I called them, got the last 4 digits of my debit card, gave the number to the hotel clerk, who immediately issued me a new card. One step closer to functionality...
I went back to my room, showered, put on my fanciest Kelley's on Beaver - Des Moines, Iowa t-shirt and wandered my dumbass down to the strip to have lunch at Margaritaville with my unimpressed boss. This was a 3 mile walk, so I had plenty of time to think of solutions to my problems. I called roommate Traci to keep her in the loop on my stupidity, thru this conversation we managed to work up a plan so that she could meet up with another one of my co-workers and get him my passport so that I wouldn't be stuck in Vegas forever. Thank God for that! I enjoyed the best ever Cheeseburger in Paradise courtesy of Jimmy Buffet. It was simply delightful. I caught a shuttle back to co-worker Jason's hotel because by this point my drunken ambition had run out and I was exhausted. I used his internet to start canceling my misplaced credit cards. I took advantage to the 14 minutes of internet to let all my fans in facebook world know that I was a little down on my luck....and left that status for them to discuss amongst themselves for the next 6 days.
I spent Friday night snoozing at the hotel. Saturday I woke up still a little disoriented. We moved resorts this morning, and later went down to the strip with Renee to have brunch at Bobby Flay's restaurant in Caesar's Palace, Mesa Grill. It was delish. Walking into Caesar's I had flashbacks to the movie, The Hangover. I seriously felt like there was a soundtrack to my life at that moment. Still feeling a little out of sorts, I headed back to my hotel to sleep a little more of Vegas off. I was getting my ass kicked at this point. A couple hours later, things started getting worse, having discovered that I probably had a bladder infection. I called the front desk for advice for where to go to see a doctor, after 3 strike outs, I finally found a walk in that was open 24 hours/7 days a week. This is going to be awesome. Co-worker Jason gave me a ride to the clinic, but after I discovered it would be a 2-1/2 hour wait to be seen by a doctor, I sent him back to the hotel. So there I sat. Pathetically bawling on the phone to my sister about what an idiot I was. Really the low point of the trip by this time. How much more pathetic and sad can I get, sitting in the waiting room of a walk in clinic off of Wynn Avenue...fantastic.
Eventually I was seen by the doctor, who thankfully gave me a prescription for a 7 day supply of antibiotics. This ended up being my only souvenier from the trip. Before leaving the clinic I asked the receptionist to call me a taxi. A mini van pulled up about 45 seconds later and a short bald man in his 40s greated me with a robust, 'Hey, Baby, how you doin tonight?!
Me: 'Well, I could be better.'
Cabbie: 'Oh, I'm sorry, baby, that was a silly question. You gonna be okay, baby, right?'
M: 'Yes, I'll be fine,' I managed to sputter out with tears in my throat.
C: 'Ok, honey, where you goin tonight?'
M: 'I have to get to a pharmacy, and then eventually to Tahiti Villiage on Las Vegas Blvd.
We discussed different routes of making this all happen, he decided the best route, I went with it. Turns out my cabbie's name was Luca. He is Italian-Puerto Rican. He told me how I was 'just beautiful, baby' and 'was going to break hearts someday'. He gave me his phone number in case I couldn't find a cab after getting my prescription filled, and let me out at a 24 hour CVS. Talk about an exciting Saturday night.
I walked up to the pharmacy counter with my Rx in hand. The pharmacy tech requested my insurance card and ID. At this point I had been using an expired paper id that the state of Iowa gives you when you renew your license before they print the real card and send it to you in the mail. So that piece of paper and my insurance card were floating around in my huge purse. The lady could recognize my frustration and told me to relax, it would be fine. I emptied my purse out on the counter, finally finding the elusive cards (this reminds me that I need a new purse)! My prescription was filled in less than 10 minutes. I walked out of the CVS, wondering if I was really going to have to call my friend Luca. I looked around the area, no taxis in sight. Then I saw a cab driver walking out of the 7-11 across the 4 lane median street. He was getting into his van and backing out by the time I realized that this was probably my only chance to not have to walk all the way back to my condo. I started sprinting across the street. The driver was negotiating a right turn onto Las Vegas Blvd when I reached the van and started pounding on the window. I got his attention! He let me in, and he took me the $7 cab ride to my condo. This took the last of my cash, but I was okay with it because I was home for the night and had some drugs to take.
I set my alarm for 5:30 a.m.for Sunday morning, and snuggled in for the night. The work portion of this week was just starting, and I had some redeeming to do!
Monday, January 24, 2011
Oh, Horoscope
So, traditionally, I'm a pretty big fan of my horoscope...not that I do much digging into the history behind my sign and what it all means as a part of the universe...just that I'm a Leo and I fit most of the stereotypical Leo characteristics:
Leo rules the Zodiac with style. Born leaders and entertainers, they’re powerful, charismatic and exhibit grace under fire. While a Leo’s strength may be overbearing for some, they also have the “heart of a lion.”
Leo in a Nutshell
Born: July 23 – August 22
Element: Fire – active and ardent
Quality: Fixed, the quality that signifies a resistance to change
Symbol: The Lion
Lucky Day: Sunday
Lucky Number: 8 and 9
Special Color: Gold and yellow, the color of the sun
Leo Traits: Powerful, creative, arrogant, intolerant, warm-hearted, opinionated
Born: July 23 – August 22
Element: Fire – active and ardent
Quality: Fixed, the quality that signifies a resistance to change
Symbol: The Lion
Lucky Day: Sunday
Lucky Number: 8 and 9
Special Color: Gold and yellow, the color of the sun
Leo Traits: Powerful, creative, arrogant, intolerant, warm-hearted, opinionated
Typically, I fit this description just about right on...but then I think about other Leos I know. Some of my favorite friends are fellow Leos...but then there's this extremely strange guy that I used to work with. We not only share the same sign, but the same birthday...so I was thinking, if that's his sign too, how's he such a strange bird? Maybe he's got a different Chinese symbol since he's 30 years older than me. He must read his horoscope and think , wow, that is not me. Maybe thats why he's so weird, because his personality doesn't match his horoscope at all and he's constantly confused about his place in the universe.
Saturday, January 1, 2011
Merry New Year!
Another NYE has come and gone. Only a month and a half until Valentines Day! Both so damn couple-centric...and my holiday nemesis. I hate these 2 days, I know, surprise surprise.
You'll be happy to hear that I made it thru last night with only a medium sized goose egg on my head from a minor altercation with an ill placed vanity. No, you're not getting details. Yes. It hurts, and has definitely hindered the relationship with my couch.
You'll be happy to hear that I made it thru last night with only a medium sized goose egg on my head from a minor altercation with an ill placed vanity. No, you're not getting details. Yes. It hurts, and has definitely hindered the relationship with my couch.
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