Saturday, November 18, 2006

Why I love my mother

We were in the grocery store this morning picking up all the things she'll need for Thanksgiving dinner that we couldn't get at the farmer's market, and as we made our way to the check-out we cut through the liquor aisle. She stopped the cart, looked at me and said, "You wanna get drunk tonight?"

"Oh, um. Sure. What did you have in mind?"

"Welllll....[digs in her purse and pulls out a piece of paper]...I have a coupon for vodka!"

Thursday, November 16, 2006

Stars: They're Just Like Us!

Thank goodness I decided to fly to Cali yesterday and not today. I hear y'all are suffering through some fun weather. You know, last time I traveled home was during Deluge '06 back east. That's right, every time I leave the capital it cries bitter tears of sadness. I won't be back until Monday, so try to comfort the east coast until then, will you?

I got to LAX around 1pm yesterday afternoon and proceeded, as ordered, to baggage carousel 2 to pick up my suitcase. I was in the back of the plane so it was already pretty crowded with folks anxiously staring at the unmoving carrier, so I headed to the back side where it was still pretty empty. About a minute later, three women around my age and a very serious luggage porter came and stood beside me, and after another minute the blonde one said, annoyed, "God, why won't they just leave us alone already," then turned to the porter and asked, "Isn't the airport private property??" I turned around and saw - you guessed it - a shady paparazzi character semi-hiding behind a large pillar, sticking his telephoto lens in our direction.

Since she was right next to me it wasn't to hard to discreetly take a couple of peeks, but I really did not recognize her. She looked like every other blonde woman in Southern California, and was wearing those giant sunglasses that obscured her face (now I get why those are so popular in Hollywood). Eventually she started speaking again and I instantly recognized that voice - it was Ms. Renée Zellweger. She's very short. Maybe I just thought she was taller because Tom Cruise is actually a midget. Also, I'm pretty sure airports fall under the purview of the federal government, don't they? To her credit, she wasn't being a bitch about it or anything, and it was actually quite annoying, seeing as the guy was actually taking photos of me, too, and I soon picked up my carry-on and moved about 15 feet away from her. But hey, check out the tabloids! Maybe you can see my fine ass and disheveled hair while I impatiently waited for my bags.

Finally the luggage started coming out and Renée spotted her bag and came up right next to me and omg Renée Zellweger touched me! Or something. She actually picked up the wrong bag and put it back, then kept checking all the large black bags that went past cause they all looked exactly the same, and I felt some guy on my other side start fidgeting nervously. Then he suddenly jumped forward and grabbed a black bag...just as she picked up a the correct one and started walking away. Embarrassed, because I saw his failed attempt to Help The Famous Person, he put it back on the carousel and mumbled, "I was just gonna help..." Heh. Don't worry, Nervous Star-Stuck Guy. Famous people can pick up their own luggage.

Tuesday, November 14, 2006

matchmaker, matchmaker

Well, I may have been screwed by Washington Gas — the guy showed up at 5:30pm, worked for ten whole minutes, told me the pilot in the fireplace was broken so the landlords will have to hire a contractor to fix it, then left so I could finally clock in at work at 6:30 — but just when I'm about to cast a black spell over the world, something comes along that totally reminds you that somtimes, good things DO happen.

I found a particularly great photo, by Flickr user Eye Captain, for yesterday's Photo of the Day, and I liked it especially because I'd been meaning to talk about that new art installation on 14th, but kept forgetting to call the gallery to get the details. The photographer sent me a personal email to say thanks, as they occassionally do, which is sweet. However, this morning I get an awesomer email — turns out the guy behind the installation wants the photographer's info so he can discuss purchasing the license to use in his promotional materials. I hooked them up and told the producer that I was thrilled they found each other through DCist; he replied and told me that not only did the photographer have lots of great photos and may actually be giving him work, but the photo and the PotD post inspired him to send out a wide-release about the installation. Yay! Go team!

My pink flamingos will outlive everyone

I'm getting hosed by Washington Gas here, who've chosen to come in the "5" part of the 7am-5pm slot. Jesus. I hope they plan on taking a day's pay off my first bill. Yeah, that'll happen. Also, it's totally freezing in here because, like, there's no gas, man.

The subject is a line from Electric Six's Pink Flamingos, which I found via DCeiver's list. I've been listening to these dudes all day and am totally sold on this awesome kind of 80's-ish hard rock-ish band. I especially like Slices of You, but you can't beat the lyrics to Pink Flamingos (which don't seem to be online, sorry).

I totally had a small victory over The Man this afternoon. My new roommate came home at lunch, so I took the opportunity to run out and get some food. I didn't remember until I got to the cashier that I didn't have any cash on me, so I handed him my debit card. He pointed to the sign that said "Sorry, Minimum Charge of $5 on Credit Cards." I only owed $4.06, but really didn't want anything else, especially if it was just so I owed them more, so I said, "That's actually illegal." And from what I know, that's true; it's part of the contract that businesses sign with the credit companies that the establishment won't require a minimum. Of course, the businesses often require it anyway because they have to pay them a fee each time they swipe a card. So anyway, trying to ignore me, he said, "Do you want a cookie?" I said, "No, I want you to charge $4.06 on my card." And he took my card and totally did it. Ha! It's the small victories, people.

Since it's random thought Tuesday on TTtC today, here's another one. Seeing hot dudes on the street is totally irritating. Oh sure, it's great for those few seconds when you both look at each other and you trade smile; even better when you do the 'look back' at the same time after you pass. You know what I'm talking about. But then what, eh? This happened to me yesterday on the way home, this cute semi-scruffy boy and I passed each other on U and totally had that "moment." We may or may not have seen into each other's souls. But he's gone forever! Woe is me. For reals. Oh wait, is this where I'm supposed to go check out 'missed connections'?

Speaking of missed connections, where the HELL is the gas man??

Bullet Point Post:

  • I was walking home last night and approached two men walking slower than I was on 14th Street. They looked like your fairly normal late-30's dudes, with some unfashionable windbreakers on. As I pass on their right, the guy closest to me turns to his friend and says, "[something] SOME SERIOUS PUSSY ....oh dude, sorry." Heh. Please, I've heard worse, usually directed at me, but they were hilariously embarassed and kept apologizing. Man, I overheard a lot of great quotes last night but I think the beer may have washed the rest away.

  • Last night I grabbed a few beers with David (who told me he only reads my blog to see if he got mentioned, like a movie star reading the tabloids or something. holla!), mostly to escape the war zone my house has become, and anyway, the roommate was camped out in front of the television again and I'm getting highly tired of sitting in my room. I had emailed a few folks earlier in the day to see if they wanted to join me, including Jason, a very good friend from my Staffwise days who had moved to NJ for election purposes, but was slated to be back in D.C. sometime this week. He replied and said he wasn't back in town quite yet. Later in the day he called me and left a voicemail asking if I was alright because, "Even back in Caroline Time we didn't start drinking until Tuesday!" Man, why didn't we? I called him back but was getting terrible reception, he said, "Sorry, I'm just getting out of the metro," to which I responded brilliantly, "...New Jersey has a metro?" So later David and I are in Solly's (naturally) downing some (not)tasty PBRs and bitching about life. Around ten o'clock the front door opens and who walks in but Jason himself! I haven't seen that boy in months, so what an awesome surprise. I asked him how he knew we were there and he was like, "I read your blog, girl!" Ha, right, but actually he had called David earlier and said, "I figured you'd be out drinking with Heather." Also, heh. And correct, we just started late, and I guess David told him where we were going. So, good times.

  • I lost my pepper spray! I guess I'll just have to rely on my mad ka-rah-tay skills from now on.

  • I'm at my new apartment right now because someone has to be here to let the gas man in to light the pilots. So fucking annoying. Why? Because the time frame they gave me was 7am-5pm. Seriously, they've got to be kidding me. There's no way they can cut that down to a four-hour block so I don't have to take the entire day off work? The internet connection I'm stealing is very, very poor, so I can't even really do anything until it cycles around again, and there's no television. BORED. Also, I forgot to bring food, and it's almost noon already, so the gas man might actually show up at 4:50 to find me starved and passed out on the floor. This is doubly bad timing because I'm going to California tomorrow (omg kimo!) so I'm already taking three days off of work this week. Arg. Oh, and when my new roommate answered the door at the apartment this morning (I have a key but didn't want to barge in), she said, "Hey sunshine." That's going to end right quick, I know that much. Oh, and the construction people next door have partially knocked down the wall that divides our property from the new condo zone next door. Sweet. At least this place doesn't have rabid dogs, and that's all I need. It does have a huge German Shepard named Bartleby, owned by my subletter, but he is totally adorable and I hardly remember he's here unless he gets bored and ambles about for a bit. Trained animals, I almost forgot what they were like!

  • Monday, November 13, 2006

    And a few more things:

    I know hardly anyone reads my poor travel blog (which I may just go ahead and fuse back into this one...but I love my header!), but I've made my likely India itinerary, so if any of you guys in the know want to take a look and provide feedback, I'd really appreciate it.

    Secondly, this is the best thing ever, via Pygs. Though if I were making my own ring tone I'd have to go with, "Yes it is, Cathy," because I love me some hilarious non-sequitors. It's a good thing I don't have sound on my work computer, or I'd play with this all day.

    Wednesday cannot come soon enough

    Thank CHRIST I decided to move out. One thing I'm really good at, which can be both an asset and a detriment, is convincing myself that a situation is totally fine. Apparently, and mostly subconsciously, I've been doing that with my living situation for the past year. I only realized it when I was with Sylvie on Saturday, so angry from the most recent inconsiderate action by my roommate, and she was like, "I had no idea you were so unhappy there." I stopped and thought about it for a second, and suddenly realized that things have been like this since pretty much day 1, but I'd either convinced myself that the pros far outweighed the cons, or that there was nothing I could do about it since we had a one year lease, so I might as well pretend I was happy there. And let's be honest, my garden was more than enough to keep me content for a long time.

    No roommate situation is ever perfect, and I doubt my new place will be paradise, but this is some serious bullshit we're talking about here. For one, the dog. No matter how many times and how many ways I've asked him to take the simplest actions in training him, he was more than happy to let that mongrel attack every single one of my friends who dared to come through the door. Most of them have threatened, justifiably, to throw the dog under a bus the next time it comes near them. I don't blame them one bit. By the by, I had that thing trained when he was off traveling for work, he just undid it all when he got back because he lets the dog do anything. So now I can't even order pizza without it being a big production with the dog, or even walk out of my house without getting bit half the time (including Saturday morning). Who let's their animal attack people and is just fine with it?

    Then of course there's the whole live-in boyfriend situation. I think the guy's great and consider him a friend, but c'mon - who lives in a house five days a week (including every single weekend) and expects NOT TO PAY RENT. I'm serious. I've been late to work many times because he was in the shower when I got up, not to mention they don't ever go out, so I'm sequestered to my bedroom because they're always on their asses in front of the television. Yeah. I pay half the rent, but I'm a guest in my own house.

    And this weekend, now that I'm losing that facade of "oh it's alright!", really was just the last straw. His friends from New York came down and no one bothered to tell me, which is hilarious times two, because hey, I thought I was friends with these people, too. Except not really, this is one of the many totally superficial law school friends I have, only a few of whom have turned into real people after graduation, but this one I've only kept in contact with because I live with his ex-boyfriend. And hey, I don't care if people stay at our place, I would have been totally fine with it, except that no one cared to ask my opinion, and I didn't know about it at all until I woke up on Saturday and our entire first floor was occupied...and continued to be occupied as they sat on their asses all fucking day. He thinks I'm mad simply because they were there, but who invites people over without once running it by the people who are going to have to adjust their lives to accommodate them? I've never, ever had people over to the house without consulting him, partly because of the dog, but also because it's just simple respect. Am I right? I never threw a party without asking him - though he went so far as to invite the most heinous people in Washington over for a huge kegger without asking me at all. Remember, I found out when I got the evite update. Oh, and to top it off, I found our front door totally unlocked THREE times this weekend, because he couldn't be bothered to host his unannounced guests properly by giving them a key, or just hauling his ass out of bed to let them in. (Rest assured, I locked the door each time I found it that way; that's what doorbells are for.)

    Now, he's done more than enough to show me how little respect he has for me, and I did the only thing I could do - move out, but this disregard for my personal safety in a neighborhood not exactly known for it's low crime rate could not go ignored, so I told him that was absolutely unacceptable. Long story short, that's pretty much the end of that friendship. But I don't have any more energy for people who think it's okay to walk all over me. Anyway, as noted above, he rarely leaves the safety of his own house, so I knew once we moved out I'd never see him again anyway. I'm sure that he, his non-rent paying roommate, and his rabid dog will all be very happy together with no person hiding in the guest room paying half their rent and asking that pets behave like pets. He's moving this weekend, but I'm leaving for California Wednesday, so I just have two more days to make it through. Let's see if he leaves the door wide open when he leaves.

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