Take Backs and Time Warps

The little alley I walk through to get to my work parking lot has a couple of offices that have huge, store front windows. The blinds are always down in the windows, so during the day it's like walking past a full size mirror--albeit an extremely unflattering mirror. And I can't help but check myself out as I walk past them. It's not vanity (trust me, it's usually the moment of stark realizations, like oh god how did I decide it's ok to leave the house with dirty hair in my face and red rubber crocs on my feet). think if you ask anyone, they'll admit that they'll look if they catch themselves in any reflective surface. Even the ones who say they don't. They're just trying to be better than you.

Anyway.

Today while I was walking to my car, I noticed in the window-mirrors that my hair has gotten long. It's probably a couple inches past my shoulders. Now, that doesn't seem long to most people (I know some girls with fuckin' MANES of hair), but for me, it hasn't been this long since I was 16. That's 11+ years of inverted bobs and almost collarbone length layer cuts.

I thought, "yay, my hair will be long enough to wear big loose curls for the weddings I'll be in next year!" and went on my way. That made me think, once again, how weird it is for me that by this time next year, my 3 oldest best friends will be married. How weird it is, because I still don't feel like I've achieved that level of adultiness that my friends have. It's not something that keeps me awake at night, because I know I'm doing alright, but it definitely keeps me questioning my life choices.

And then I walked into Blockbuster Video and stepped into a time warp.

Last week, I got hired at a local Blockbuster (yes, they're still open here--and thriving!), as a supplemental, brainless, with insurance so I could start saving mony again. I worked at Blockbuster from age 16-18, so I figured it'd be an easy transition. So today, I went into fill out my "new hire" paperwork, which was mostly me standing around waiting for the boss to get the computer working.

Then it hit me. 10 years later, I'm here again. With the same hair.

As I stood behind the counter I stood behind for 3 years while I was in high school, I'm pretty sure my heart tore apart--and not in the good way. With every snotty customer complaining about late fees, every register monkey touting "Want to add candy and a soda for $3?" "You should join our rewards program, here let me explain it to you...", every time the bratty assistant manger ripped Bridesmaids apart while recommending Leap Year, and every white trash teenager, smelling like a Meth lab and complaining about school, I was reminded of every reason why I left the retail world.

And then the store manager told me I'd be making minimum wage, which is .10 less than my hourly wage when I worked there 10 years ago.

Yeah. Every. Single. Damn reason. 

I stood there, thoughts racing in my head, but mostly, it was "How did I convince myself that this would be an ok substitute?"

Yes, my boss at my current job is a Tempermental Misogynistic Mountain Man Who's Never Wrong About Anything, but he has given me Mondays and Fridays off, and the option to take early afternoons off. And for the last two weeks, I've gotten substantial writing done, mostly I think, because I have 4 days to do nothing but concentrate on it. And we're about to get good insurance. And it's a salary I can live on.  And 50% of the time, I'm writing something original.

So yes, I'm hating my job a little less nowadays, but going back to retail now feels like a waste of time. Afterall, my priority in getting a job here was getting a job that gave me time to work on my book--which is exactly what my boss gave me and exactly what a retail job would take away. Basically, it seems like taking on both jobs would defeat the purpose of me moving here.

But it would put me on a higher road to financial solvency.

And it would take away my weekends/holidays.

But I'd get 10 free rentals a week!

And I'd be 27 and crawling back to my high school job.

Ugh. I'm at a What Will Make Your Life Suck Less crossroads.

I seriously can't wait for the IT DOESN'T MATTER WHAT ROAD YOU TAKE BECAUSE THEY'RE BOTH FILLED WITH CANDY AND AWESOME AND $100 BILLS! crossroads to appear.


Don't get me wrong. Being an adult is awesome in terms of making your own decisions and all the fun you can have that you couldn't have (or at least that you shouldn't have) as a kid, but the financialities of all that "free will" and "fun" really suck balls, to say the least.


foot note: yes I'm aware of the douchiness that comes with publicly complaining about having a job--especially in this economy. No one put a gun to your head and made you read this all the way through.


and if someone did, I'm really sorry and I hope you're ok.

First Chapter (again!)

So with the exception of Thursday (when I slept all evening and night), I have written every day, without fail, for the past 9 days. And I've officially stamped DONE on the first two chapters of my new/not so new story. I feel productive and fantastic. Also, like the biggest slug in the world because I haven't left the house unless for work. But its all in the name of the book, so that's a good thing.

Dog is my biggest cheer leader

SO EXCITING.

That's primarily why I've been distant on the blog, because when I'm not huddled over my computer at my desk, I'm huddled over my net book on the couch. And when I'm not doing that, I'm sleeping. Or walking the dog. Or eating something really gross and terrible for me.

What's decidedly less awesome is that I'm working at a flippin' snail's pace, because everything in the world distracts me. Will work on remedying that this week.


But we did manage to get out of the house this weekend, to see Hedwig and the Angry Inch. Which was exhilarating.

Whether you like it or Not!

But you can read more about that here on the PREMIERE OF MY NEW BLOG! Boring Blogs About Movies

I also learned some lessons in the past few days. 

For example;

--Did you know that rice expands when you cook it? And that if you make 2 cups of rice, you'll actually end up with 4 cups of rice? I wish I did before I made 4 cups of rice, thinking "that might be enough for us."

um, also if you don't let it steam long enough, it comes out wet and clumpy. DELICIOUS.

--That if you scratch hard enough in  your sleep, you can leave finger nail shaped trails of broken blood vessels down your arms? I woke up digging these beauties in to my massive bicep.

that's my arm, not my leg.

 It's only a little terrifying.

--That it doesn't matter how often you sweep. If you have a Dog whose winter coat is growing in fast because of a cold snap, your wood laminate flooring will have a permanent coat of dog hair.

--That a 3lb cookbook is way better for killing insects than it is for supplying me with delicious, informed and clearly defined recipes (please refer to earlier Rice Disaster)


So yes! Exciting weekend coming up. I paid my speeding ticket this week and it was way less than they told me it was going to be, meaning I have extra money. So I made a spur of the moment decision and I'm going up to Maryland for Oktoberfest on Saturday, and Daron's Renn Fest B-day on Sunday. I'm psyched. Thank god for 4-day weekends, every weekend. (although I won't be saying that on the next pay day)

But yeah. Now it's time for a congratulatory glass of wine, and house cleaning. Whaaaaatup!

First Bad Ideas

Today I took an accidental 3 hour nap and woke up starving.

So I stomped from the fridge to the pantry to the snack cabinet to the freezer and back to the fridge to the pantry to the snack cabinet to the freezer in hopes of something jumping out and saying I WILL BE THE MOST DELICIOUS DINNER EVER, but nothing happened. Just like it hasn't happened for the last 2 weeks or so. I want chicken scampi with peppers, onions and asparagus, but the closest I'll get is buttered noodles, since I never think of it til late at night when it's too late to buy fresh chicken and vegetables. Plus they're expensive. And I'd feel bad making a giant meal only for myself while Addie eats a TV dinner because he doesn't like vegetables. What's up, irrational guilt?

And then thoughts of guilt were replaced with an insane craving for Cookies and Cream ice cream, which is easily attainable in a split second. So I went to the store. But since I'm really trying to scrape pennies together, I bought the store brand ice cream.

And it tasted like watery, frozen cardboard with cookie bits. So damn lame.

Anyway.

Addie came home and told me about his favorite customer today, a man in his 60's who's retired and lives in his van.

"He's friends with the owners of the truck stop, so he parks his van and sleeps there at night. But I feel bad, because he says he goes through gas driving around all day because he can't park anywhere. Maybe he could park somewhere on Shelby's property during the day?"

"Dude. No way is Hobo-Grampa staying on our property. That's how people get raped and killed by Hobo's."

"He's not a Hobo. He's really nice. And he has a van."

"He lives in a van by the Dairy Queen truck stop. He's a hobo."

Needless to say, we've been debating why I'm a Terrible Person, and why Addie Should Help Hobo Grampa. 

"He could walk Dog for us."

"What? After all the hoops I had to jump through to prove myself worthy of walking Dog?"

"You're right, he'd probably like, leave the door open and Dog would get out."

"I'd be more afraid of him stealing all our stuff."

"You're so mean."

"He's a hobo!"



More updates as they come.

First 5,000 views!

say wha!

huzzah! thank you to all my sexy, swingin' site-seers!
(it's difficult to think of a word for "readers" that starts with 's')

*goes back to writing

**but only during commericals because it's the Teen Mom season finale

***when are they going to stop calling it Teen Mom and just start calling Questionable Life Decision Mom?

First Finished Project!

I finished my hood-scarf! I've been working on it at a snail's pace since May, and it's finally done!

Here are some low-quality pictures of my success:

full shot, with handcuffs and super snazzy pj's

hand cuff detail.

 this is my solution to "where do I put my hands when I have no pockets?"

amazingly soft, warm, thick yarn

it brings out my creeper stalker eyes

So excited! Especially now that the weather is getting chilly. Also, so excited to finally have finished something. Whatsup.

Also, Addie made a pineapple upside down cake. And I ate a piece (without fruit). And it was fantastic.

Whaaaat's going on here...

First Balls and Dogs and Futons

Hay blog, it's been a while. But I have various, valid reasons for my absence:

-I've been writing my balls off. I've got a solid handle on where my book is going, which is a sincere relief. 

get it? it's a BOOK. about BALL DISAPPEARANCE. 

- and knitting til I gave myself crippling arthritis

totally what my hands look like

But I finished my hooded scarf!

more on that later

-and apartment cleaning (like scrubbing the walls down with magic erasers) and couch fixin'.

I threw an upisde down quit on the futon to cover the gross stripes, and after a day or so, we both  discovered that we're growing partial to a teal colored couch (much, I'm sure, to my Mom's chagrin) But, as seen above, it's more blue, not green, in real life (or a camera flash)

ooooooOOooooo

 But I think what I really like most is the threading detail on the quilt. I'm pretty sure that if it was just straight up teal, I'd be bored.

big fan of simple details

And dog further approves

smug dog is smug.

 

 

-and bowling

We finally tried out the bowling alley near our place. Now, we must have some real ghetto bowling alley's in Maryland and NoVa, because I'm used to like, charging up the lane and throwing my ball like THOR throwing his hammer.

Couldn't be done here. The bowling floor was super slick and waxed, the balls were all greased up, and the shoes had like, silk soles. I almost killed myself trying to bowl. So we resigned to bowling fail out of Concerns of General Safety, and I let Addie win a couple of games (I usually murder him in bowling).

did I mention we're Professional Bowlers?

The Victorious Bowler Pose

awkward bowling alley photos

 But, it was $30 bucks for 3 games, shoes, a bucket of beer, and food. That's way more affordable than it is anywhere else. And good times, too.

-Dog Spoiling

Addie was making tuna salad, and spilled the dish holding all the tuna juice (we can't drain tuna juice down the sink or else our place smells tuna-y for days). All I heard was "Aww damnit!" Then, there was something of a scramble. When I looked over to the kitchen, this was happening:

DOG ON COUNTER

(^^we have a shelf that's 90% hot sauce. be jealous)

Addie: There was too much to clean up. And Dog likes tuna.

Future solution to all food cleanup: found.

(Don't be grossed out. He scrubbed the counter down after Dog was done.)

And last night Dog got a hold of an empty peanut butter jar, and spent 20 minutes trying to clean it out. It was funny, but also sad, because he'd get so frustrated trying to reach the bottom of the jar that every once and a while he'd stop and bark at it.

Hysterical. In that senselessly cruel kinda way.

-And sleeping

I looove sleeping.

So that's all the edge of your seat excitement that's been ahappenin'.

I really want to go see Driven. And Contagion. And The Lion King: 3D.

I think more, though, that I'd really like to be able to afford to go see three movies in one month. sigh. But I did find out that my credit score is in the 700's, so that's pretty much unbelievable. And awesome. Hooray adulthood.

And I'll leave you with this:

-

this is the google image I got for "sans-testiclees"

Off to at least half a day of productivity!

First Solid Day

It's been a pretty good day.

-I helped Addie put my patched up tire back on my car (and by help, I mean, I put down the ground mat and cranked the jack [no that's not what she said]). Realized the following:

• My car can drive for 50+ miles on a doughnut with no signs of danger. I can drive for 2 miles on a doughnut before I get white-knuckled and freaked out.
• I can tell you step by step how to change a flat tire. I can crank the jack and raise the body, and I can pop the lid off the hubcap. But that's it. I cannot for the life of me, loosen the bolts, or screw them tight enough. That's why I need strong-folk (or more than one person) around to change my tires.
• Every step of changing a flat tire (crank the jack, screw down the bolts, ride the doughnut flat, etc)
   can be followed up with "that's what she said"  

-got some suprising news from my boss, saying I can work Tues-Thursday for the next two weeks to see if it changes my mind about quitting

-it's PAY[bills]DAY! this *might* be the month where I don't have to borrow money from my parents (YEAH I'M AN ADULT I KNOW)

-had delicious Mexican food for dinner (and still am reeling in Mexi-food-coma)

-my shins hurt and I'm eating everything in sight, just like I did in middle school when I was going through growth spurts. Insert growing outward not upward joke here: ______________.

-kinda wonder what it'd be like to date a guy who's as eloquent as Kenny Powers

-have been watching old Nickeoldeon opening credit songs and laughing our balls off

-tomorrow I'm going to write so much. So. Much.

-also tomorrow, we're going bowling. sheeeeit.

First Hoot n Holler

Dog has trained me well (much like Lucy did).

If I come home from work and Addie's not here, and Dog's acting fussy, I'll put him outside on his line. And after that, if he's still fussy, I'll hang out with him on the couch. Or even take him for another walk. Or treats. Whatever will sate him (reason #876 why I'd be a terrible mother).

So, Dog, being the wundernut that he is, has learned that if he sits at my feet and whines hysterically, and gives me this face

I'll take him for a walk.

I do this for a few reasons. 1) I love Dog and it's not an issue for me to do things that'll make him happy; b) I know that 99.99998% of Addie's emotional and physical well-being is tied directly to Dog, and if any harm should befall him while under my care, like a stroke-inducing anxiety attack or a bladder infection, I'm almost definitely sure that Addie would hold me criminally responsible; and finally, there are few things more frustrating than a fussy being who cannot communicate what's making him fussy and is determined to make you suffer for it (same can be said for human babies).

So of course, Dog waited til I was in my writing clothes (usually an unfortunate combination of boxers, t-shirt and my "Cleveland Steamers" hoodie), and since I was lazy, I just took him for a walk in my totally classy outfit. And while we were walking, a truck passed us, and this skeezy guy leaned out and was like HAAAAAAAAAAAAAAY GIRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRLLL as he sped by.

That, ladies and gentlemen, marks the first time a white dude has ever hoot and hollered at me.

In North Carolina.

In my squirrel print boxer shorts.

In my red crocs.

I still got it, baby. 

First Resignation

There's only one word to describe how I'm feeling today:

 Last night, I was pretty snit-tastic. Addie and I had a talk about money (like, as soon as I walked in the door, way to go) and where we’ll be in a few months, which of course, led to the “goddamnit I don’t like my job” talk (only on my part, Addie loves his job), which led to me pissing and moaning about what I could do because I need a lot of money, like right now and quitting was out of the question even though the job was giving me anxiety attacks. But finally I broke down and decided that I couldn’t put up with it anymore and quitting was the only feasible option. 

I woke up to an encouraging note from Addie, and after I got to work, I told my supervisor, and then went and had a surprisingly pleasant discussion with my boss. And I did it! I put in my notice. 

I told him it just wasn’t working out for a wide number of reasons. Primarily because working all day at a computer left me drained of any motivation to write. And, working an office job again so soon after quitting an office job turned out to be a bit of a mind fuck. I was only there over a month, but I could already feel myself growing into a pissy rut, of every day collapsing on the couch after complaining about the day I had—a place I worked hard to get out of and didn’t want to fall into again.  

But really, mostly I quit because I didn’t like being told I was “slap fucking” my boss around. I, uh, didn’t tell him that part.

It felt good to quit. I walked out of his office and it was like the weight of a thousand neurotic Audreys was dug out of my lower back. It basically made up for every shitty job I didn’t quit in college because I felt like I couldn’t. Like I finally stood up for myself, professionally, and said I wasn’t going to stand for a job that was any less than awesome. Turns out free lunches and $20 on my birthday wasn’t awesome enough to make up for how I left feeling like a super small idiot every day.  

So I walked out of the office today, feeling like a Self Important Bitch, In Control of My Life, when I saw that my back tire was Completely Flat.

Wah. Wah. Waaaaah.

But Shelby’s boyfriend/my other housemate said he might be able to dig out the teeny tiny nail that did it in and plug it up. And if not, he’s going to find me a cheap replacement tire.

It’s been an ebb and flow kinda day.

 

I keep thinking of shitty jobs my parents couldn’t quit because they had 4 children to support. And I’m really grateful that they were so selfless for us.

But at the same time, I’m putting “Able to Quit Job and Move On Without A Reliable End Game In Sight” all the way at the top of the “Reasons I’m Grateful I Have No Desires to Procreate” list.  

Now it's time for Black Swan for like, the 500th time, writing, and some dinner.

And maybe basking in new cable.

(definitely)

Obligatory 9/11 Post

I've never made a "where were you when you heard" post, but I guess the 10 year anniversary of the attacks is an appropriate time to do it.

I was in 11th grade, 3rd period geometry, falling asleep, getting bothered by all the kids who were being called over the PA to go to the office (I assumed yet another kid was found with drugs in his car). An administrator came by our class and said no one was allowed to leave the room when the bell rang. The entire class was buzzing. More kids were called down. 15 minutes later we were allowed to go to our next class. I was all "whats going on," but I definitely wasn't panicking.

I was on my way to English when I ran into Cara and her boyfriend, and she was red-faced, sobbing. I remember her exact words: "Dude, the world trade center and the white house have been bombed!" She explained they heard a bunch of radio broadcasts in her newspaper class. And then I instantly went into panic mode. The idea of bombs scared me shitless.

I went to class, and everyone was freaking out. I lived and went to school on a military base, so there was a lot of "Where's your dad?" "Where's your mom?" "What's going on with the NSA?" "Do we get early dismissal?" I sat down and started crying, full on hysteria because we were 5 miles away from the National Security Agency and 40 minutes from DC. My dad worked at the Pentagon, and even though he had thankfully been deployed to Korea the month before, I was still terrified that something would happen to him.

My teacher, Mrs. Jepsen, stood at the front of the class and asked who had a cell phone. We were all scared, but even more scared of getting caught with a cell phone on school grounds. "You're not going to get in trouble, someone hand me a goddamn cell phone so I can figure out what's going on!" she screamed at us. Nearly every hand went up in the air, because we all had phones, but no cable or radio's in the classroom. Go figure, public school.

Ha, I do remember, suddenly it was very important to have everyone's cell #. we were even writing them on the board so we could all be in touch.

About an hour later, we were released. Cara's mom took me to her house, not letting me go home until my mom got home. Even though I was 17, and had my own car, I felt like a scared 7 year old, and it was insanely comforting to have my second mom look out for me (turns out my brother Josh--who my principal knew was my brother--tried to pick me up from school when the first reports were released, but the principal was like "no you're not on her emergency contacts, you can't take her home." wtf, she knew we were related. anyway). I stayed at Cara's house talking to my boyfriend Adam while she played Tony Hawk.

After a few freaked out hours, Cara and I decided to get out of the house, and go homecoming dress shopping at the PX. I found a dress that was the hottness, but it didn't distract me from waiting to hear air raid sirens. When my mom was finally able to get home (the first day of 3 months of 2 hour+ waits to get on base because they inspected every single car), she and I sat on her bed, taking turns talking to my dad on the phone. I fell asleep, still in my school clothes, in her room, watching the news. My mom says I didn't move the entire night.

I got a really comforting, amzing email from my dad the next day that I printed out and still carry around with me. But the bottom line is, that day terrified every fiber of being within me. It was that sense of not knowing what's next and that the world was falling down around me. I'll never forget it. It was more intense than being 6 and hiding under the dining room table for the entire night after I watched the night-vision bombings of Baghdad.

So it's been 10 years. Here's to remembrance, Culture Shifts, and being thankful that nothing this Emotionally Devastating, Politically Devising, or Earth Shaking has happened since. *looks away from the middle east*

First Day of Football, First Back Injury, First Re-Bound, etc

It's Sunday.

It's the Sunday that Addie's been waiting for all summer.

It's the first Sunday of Football!

He's glued to the TV right now, watching whatever games come on the limited channels we get (but we're getting SWEEEEET cable and internet on Thursday, including a DVR box for both our TV's. Hello 21st century living!), and during commercials, he's reading the paper for new fall TV and even more football. I swear, I've never seen him so sated.

happy Addie is happy

...that is, until he realized I was taking pictures of him

don't be fooled by the mid-flight pillow being aimed at me. He's giggling.

I don't get football. It reminds me of trench war fare, is way too involved, seemingly full of rapists, and is #3 behind golf and baseball on the list of World's Most Boring Sporting Events. But I do appreciate Game Day. I like going to football parties, and I like having a living room full of football fans on Thanksgiving Day. Real football fans are ridiculous, but in a good way. Get a group of them together and it's like listening to a small country debate its own politics. But Game Days are one of the few times where I don't get wrapped up in crowd mentality. Addie and I went to a Redskins game once with a bunch of his friends, and I spent more time concentrating on when I'd get my next jack-n-coke than I did the game.


But let's see.. this weekend has revolved around my shitty back injury, and taking pain killers so I can manage to walk around. I don't know what I did, but since Friday morning, it feels like my bottom two vertebrae are grinding against each other, and it's hurting right at the base of my spine and all along the top of my hips. It's probably caused by something like "your office chair isn't supporting you." or, "you're wearing the wrong shoes" or, "you should stretch before over-exerting yourself in racquet ball." My brother Josh, the hollistic healer, would say it's stress. Apparently you "hold on" to things in your lower back. Meh. But on the plus side, I felt gitty enough from the pain killers to establish that yes, my hair is long enough to put into pig tails.

I need to rent my 6-head out to billboard advertisements

Friday, I came home from work, and Dog was in the middle of an anxiety attack. The poor guy will just loose it sometimes when Addie leaves and I come home alone. So I took him for a walk, gave him some doggie xanex (which is a pig ear and a couple of beggin' strips), and about 20 minutes of back scratchies, but he was still all worry-pants. He sat at my feet barking while I was at my desk, so I moved to the bed for easier Dog access. And he was still all up in my face whining, and making getting any work done nearly impossible.

Needy Dog...

is Needy.

I was getting stressed out, so I gave up, resigned myself to an evening of hysterical dog sitting, turned on Eddie Izzard's Dressed to Kill, and waited for Addie to come home.

And then something magical happened! Dog finally fell asleep, lulled by the Executive Transvestite himself.

 
Then I wrote. I wrote and I wrote and I wrote and I finished the first draft of my new chapter one! HOORAY FANTASTIC! I even edited and wrote yesterday. And after I'm done with this blog, I'll
write some more. It's a good feeling to actually want to write. Let's see how long it lasts. har har.

And then there were some interesting things that happened involving science:

This was a cup of milk

I put it in the microwave for a 80 seconds, which I've done multiple times. However, this time it came out all separated and lumpy and gross. I tried again with a different measuring cup, for only 30 seconds, and it came out super clumpy. The sell by date on the milk was 9/10, and I guess I should have taken it more seriously. I blame 9/11.

HOW DOES THIS HAPPEN

I put this tray in the freezer and there was no jolt of water. And I find it hard to believe that our freezer is that cold. But pretty awesome, nonetheless.

The Moon, It's Exploding

Hooray for a lack of light pollution, so a full moon is basically as bright as the sun.

 

Local Color:

Addie told me he overheard this conversation at the gas station this morning:

Dude 1: Hey man what's up?
Dude 2: Aw not much man, I OD'd a few days ago.
Dude 1: That's crazy man.
Dude 2: Yeah whats up with you?
Dude 1: Stole a truck a few days ago so I'm layin' low.
Dude 2: Yeah man.

Addie: I was like, please just let me get my stuff out of here before I get shot
Me: Are we sure we aren't in Baltimore?

So here's to the end of a good weekend, and to a week of continued self-betterment. And maybe some truck theft. With addicts.

Omar comin' y'all.