My perfectly choreographed week went directly to hell Weds. night when I became horrifically ill. I was leaving the YMCA early so that I could take PT to Target, when I felt... a bit weird down below. Weird meaning my bladder felt like it was going to explode. I went to the bathroom and was greeted with an intensely painful pee that felt like my internal organs were going to drop into the toilet bowl.
A Fucking Urinary Tract Infection.
Great.
I dragged myself to the Fortress, and right into Jones' D&D night. Collapsing on the floor of the bathroom, I made PT come and and confirm that I was in fact peeing bloody razor blades. He obliged, but confessed that, "I don't really need to see that. I believe you."
"Yes, but just LOOK."
*Sigh*
We went to Target anyway, where I bought a huge jug of cranberry juice in the hopes of... doing something nice for my urinary tract, because obviously I had offended it in such a way that it felt the need to make me rip my face off in pain every time I had to go to the bathroom, which was about... every 45 seconds. My favorite moment, was when I was doubled over on the toilet crying and biting my lip, PT trying to take my temperature to see if I had a fever (as recommended by the internet)and one of the D&D geeks bust in to use the bathroom. "OOPS! Sorry!" and quickly slammed the door. I hollered back, "Hey! I'm trying to PISS FOR FUCKING CRITICAL HERE!"
The next twelve or so hours were spent alternately crying in bed and crying on the toilet. My doc couldn't see me until the next morning, so I boldly took a BIG ASS PAINKILLER and passed out.
At 10 am on Thursday, I arrived at my gyno's office so that I could pee in a cup and get some antibiotics. I happen to get all my womanly needs attended to by Planned Parenthood. Which, incidentally, is located next to a "Problem Pregnancy" office run by the Massachusetts Citizens for Life. Now, I am not going to get up on the abortion soapbox, I just want to say that these particular people are JERKS. Not only do they threaten to tow your car if you park behind their dumpster, but they stand outside their building, in total shouting distance from the PP parking lot and say NASTY, MEAN THINGS to people going inside. Yesterday, there were two crotchety old men shouting at me as I hobbled into the clinic. Apparently they don't care WHY you are going in, only that you ARE going in and are therefore also going to hell. I flipped them off and grunted out something about already BEING IN HELL, thank you very much. For fuck's sake, why must they pick on people who are just trying to get affordable health care? Instead of shouting at women who are PEEING BLOOD, why not spend some time lobbying for more accessible health care for low income people? (I have insurance now, but didn't for a very long time, and let me tell you routine pap smears are DAMN expensive if you don't have insurance.)
After I peed in a cup and got a prescription for some antibiotics, my sister and PT and I went to Friendly's. I am a firm believer that ice cream is CRUCIAL to my well-being. On the way there, as we were driving down Pleasant St, a really old lady pulls out RIGHT INTO ME. I managed to swerve sharply and avoid her, but barely. She never even saw me. If I hadn't had a bladder infection, I probably would have peed my pants. I pulled over to catch my breath and she pulled over as well. PT stuck his head out the window and hollered, "IS THERE A PROBLEM??? YOU ALMOST KILLED US!! DO YOU EVEN KNOW HOW TO DRIVE??" She apparently was deaf as well as blind and continued as though she hadn't almost made my terrible day that much worse.
This, however, helped things considerably.
Friday, July 29, 2005
Wednesday, July 27, 2005
Through Rain & Wind & Weather, Hell Bent For Leather, Wishing That My Carpet Was Installed!
All the things I'm missing,
Good vittles, love and kissin'
Are waiting at the end of my DIY...!
Last night, Gargamel, my sister and I took a trip to the lovely (and cheap) Building 19 to get some carpet. We found some for my room (the beach house), G's room (the 7th circle of hell and The Voodoo Lounge. And padding. For less than $600!
G arranged for his soon-to-be-ex-landlord, Mr. Upstairs, to haul all the stuff to the apartment in his van. Now, I am REALLY FUCKING GREATFUL that Mr. Upstairs was willing to do this for us, although he is probably trying to expedite the Move Out of the King of the Spooky Kids, but still, really nice of him. Of course, when we got to the house, he openly criticized my choice of navigation saying something like, Damn! There are totally shorter ways to get here, I mean WHY WOULD YOU GO ALL THE WAY DOWN CAMBRIDGE STREET YOU STUPID BITCH??? (Ok, am paraphrasing.) Then when G was showing him around the place, he kept saying things like, Well, You guys are sure gonna be busy. *laughs superiorly as he looks down his nose at the gutter trash and brushes imaginary dirt off his sleeve*
Prick.
I did get a guilty giggle when I found out that someone I don't particularly like has just gotten a prescription for VALTREX!
(Ok, I am a total bitch. But I am a total bitch with CARPET!)
Tuesday, July 26, 2005
Stink Lines
I am in love with this webpage.
I am also in love with the idea that in just a few days G and I will not only be moved into an apartment with A FULLY FUNCTIONING TOILET AND SHOWER, but with Carpet! The Voodoo Lounge officially moves into the modern era.
IT'S ABOUT FREAKING TIME!
Yesterday I had a pretty hellacious day at work. One of those days when the printer hates me and refuses to print anything unless I literally STAND THERE AND WATCH IT, and where my boss keeps assigning me ridiculous task after ridiculous task. By the time 5.30 rolled around and I was free to go, I was dangerously close to spitting acid. So I went home and drowned the evil robot with cheap wine and snuggled with the Fuzz until I felt human again.
G and I had planned on a nice reunion dinner and he surprised me by bringing home a bottle of Madfish Chardonnay which is one of my favorite wines EVER. Do villains get any better? I contest that they do not. We spent a lovely evening NOT DOING ANY SORT OF HOME IMPROVEMENT and just sitting on the front stoop drinking, smoking and genuinely enjoying each other's company.
Much much better than flinging paintbrushes at each other.
I am also in love with the idea that in just a few days G and I will not only be moved into an apartment with A FULLY FUNCTIONING TOILET AND SHOWER, but with Carpet! The Voodoo Lounge officially moves into the modern era.
IT'S ABOUT FREAKING TIME!
Yesterday I had a pretty hellacious day at work. One of those days when the printer hates me and refuses to print anything unless I literally STAND THERE AND WATCH IT, and where my boss keeps assigning me ridiculous task after ridiculous task. By the time 5.30 rolled around and I was free to go, I was dangerously close to spitting acid. So I went home and drowned the evil robot with cheap wine and snuggled with the Fuzz until I felt human again.
G and I had planned on a nice reunion dinner and he surprised me by bringing home a bottle of Madfish Chardonnay which is one of my favorite wines EVER. Do villains get any better? I contest that they do not. We spent a lovely evening NOT DOING ANY SORT OF HOME IMPROVEMENT and just sitting on the front stoop drinking, smoking and genuinely enjoying each other's company.
Much much better than flinging paintbrushes at each other.
Monday, July 25, 2005
Another Commando Weekend
This weekend, Mikey had the brilliant idea to climb Pinnacle Buttress on Mt. Washington. (Click on the title for more info.) I had never been up there, and though the prospect of Alpine stylin' on the biggest Mountain in New England was enticing, I was a bit leery of the 2-3 hour approach to the base of the climb. Mikey assured me it would be great, so on Saturday 5 of us (Mikey, Other Mike, Rob-the guy who will forever be known as the one who kept me from the ALL YOU CAN EAT ICE CREAM SUNDAE BAR, and Van-Mikey's super cute love interest) headed up north.
We ended up getting a later start than we intended despite my getting up at 4:45 am and getting on the road by 5:30 am. We hit the trailhead at Pinkham Notch sometime about 11:00 am and started hiking. And hiking. And hiking. After about FOREVER, we saw a sign that indicated we had gone .9 miles. Sigh. Slog. My camelbak somehow developed this HORRID chemical taste to it that made 50 oz of water totally undrinkable. More hiking. Sigh.
After about 50 years we get to the base of the buttress. It's kinda late to begin climbing, but the thought of having lugged all that impossibly heaving climbing gear all that way for nothing was more than enough of an incentive for us to rack up and go. We do. It's nice climbing, but we are seriously raging against the dying of the light and are trying to get up as quickly as possible. One pitch from the top of the climb the winds are whipping around us at close to 50 mph. We can barely stand up and while Rob leads the last pitch, I lay on the ground trying to keep myself from being blown off the death dome.
We reach the top, do our best to pack up in hurricane force winds and scramble up a big talus field to the Alpine Garden. According to the trail map, it's about a mile below the Summit. We look at the sinking sun and start booking it down the mountain. No time to tag the summit and try and hitch a ride down the Auto Road. It is 7.30.
TWO HOURS LATER we reach the parking lot exhausted, delirious, and using the last remains of our energy to keep from falling over. It is totally dark. We are too tired and hungry to celebrate much.
My small victory isn't quite enough to sustain me through what has become one of the most annoying days ever. Work is really pissing me off and if there were a window that opened I would totally throw myself out. G is back from Western MA, and somehow this week, we have to finish EVERY LAST LITTLE THING in the apartment and move him in. Oh, and get carpet. Fuck.
We ended up getting a later start than we intended despite my getting up at 4:45 am and getting on the road by 5:30 am. We hit the trailhead at Pinkham Notch sometime about 11:00 am and started hiking. And hiking. And hiking. After about FOREVER, we saw a sign that indicated we had gone .9 miles. Sigh. Slog. My camelbak somehow developed this HORRID chemical taste to it that made 50 oz of water totally undrinkable. More hiking. Sigh.
After about 50 years we get to the base of the buttress. It's kinda late to begin climbing, but the thought of having lugged all that impossibly heaving climbing gear all that way for nothing was more than enough of an incentive for us to rack up and go. We do. It's nice climbing, but we are seriously raging against the dying of the light and are trying to get up as quickly as possible. One pitch from the top of the climb the winds are whipping around us at close to 50 mph. We can barely stand up and while Rob leads the last pitch, I lay on the ground trying to keep myself from being blown off the death dome.
We reach the top, do our best to pack up in hurricane force winds and scramble up a big talus field to the Alpine Garden. According to the trail map, it's about a mile below the Summit. We look at the sinking sun and start booking it down the mountain. No time to tag the summit and try and hitch a ride down the Auto Road. It is 7.30.
TWO HOURS LATER we reach the parking lot exhausted, delirious, and using the last remains of our energy to keep from falling over. It is totally dark. We are too tired and hungry to celebrate much.
My small victory isn't quite enough to sustain me through what has become one of the most annoying days ever. Work is really pissing me off and if there were a window that opened I would totally throw myself out. G is back from Western MA, and somehow this week, we have to finish EVERY LAST LITTLE THING in the apartment and move him in. Oh, and get carpet. Fuck.
Friday, July 22, 2005
Don't drink, don't drain, what do you do?
So yesterday, one of the plumbers that I called A WEEK AGO finally called me back. He informed that my problem sounded like a DRAIN PROBLEM (well, yeah, my bathtub looks like the freaking Jersey Shore but with more filth) but that he DOESN'T DO DRAINS. Ummmm, so, what exactly DO YOU DO?? I begged his pardon for assuming that since he was a plumber and all he might actually be able to, like, FIX MY PLUMBING.
I should have known that he was sketchy from the get-go because when I first phoned him he said, HOW DID YOU GET THIS NUMBER?? Uh, it's on your business card, buddy.
Whatever. So I called Mr. Rooter. Doesn't he look all retro-y and helpful? HE'S ALSO COMING AT 5PM TODAY! Take that, not calling me back plumbers!
In unrelated news, I am totally smitten with this blog.
I should have known that he was sketchy from the get-go because when I first phoned him he said, HOW DID YOU GET THIS NUMBER?? Uh, it's on your business card, buddy.
Whatever. So I called Mr. Rooter. Doesn't he look all retro-y and helpful? HE'S ALSO COMING AT 5PM TODAY! Take that, not calling me back plumbers!
In unrelated news, I am totally smitten with this blog.
Thursday, July 21, 2005
Bring on the cargo nets!
Yesterday was a bad day. Not in a "hurl myself out the window and Action Geek, you can have my cocktial shaker" kind of way, but in a way that it just seemed to tiring to try anymore. For the past couple of weeks, I have (along with G and my sister and assorted other angels of mercy) been trying to get the new apartment into liveable shape. But not just "let me move into another crappy apartment", but rather "let's try to create something resembling an actual home." I know, what the hell am I thinking? Anyway, I have been painting and scrubbing and calling plumbers (none of whom actually call me back) and painting, and throwing away someone else's trash, and drinking A LOT of beer (thanks, AG!) and chain smoking and desperately trying to make progress. A lot of the time I feel like, where the hell can I find a river to divert through this crap hole?
It's hard enough to do home improvey type stuff, but when you face that after a long day at COCK, well, it's enough to make you want to unpack the martini glasses (which I still haven't found, dammit). Also, this week I have been trying to catch up on other things, like teeth cleaning (perfect teeth, no cavities) and my semi annual pap smear. Now, I don't care how you look at it, being cranked open at the gyno's office while they prod your cervix is just unpleasant. Really. Unpleasant.
I came home last night following the cervix poking and stepped into my dirty, half-painted house and just felt defeated. Utterly defeated. I had some cashews for dinner because I read that they help combat depression. I don't know how many you have to eat, but 1/3 of a can of Planters just made me feel sick.
I talked to Gargamel (still safely in the wilds of Western MA and far far away from the hell that is my house) and he did his best to cheer me up. He gave me that "Glass half full or half empty" analogy and i wanted to say, Not only is my glass half empty, but it's covered with maple syrup and cat hair.
The highlight of the night was when my sister (who is the most amazing thing on the planet for helping me out so much with this. i love you!) and I were cleaning the kitchen to the sounds of Richard Cheese and she accidentally spilled my beer all over the stove. (boo.) As she grabbed a paper towel to wipe it up, she exclaimed, HEY! THE CRAP IS COMING RIGHT OFF!
Yes, you heard it here first: Mexican Beer is the new Oxyclean!
Ole!
It's hard enough to do home improvey type stuff, but when you face that after a long day at COCK, well, it's enough to make you want to unpack the martini glasses (which I still haven't found, dammit). Also, this week I have been trying to catch up on other things, like teeth cleaning (perfect teeth, no cavities) and my semi annual pap smear. Now, I don't care how you look at it, being cranked open at the gyno's office while they prod your cervix is just unpleasant. Really. Unpleasant.
I came home last night following the cervix poking and stepped into my dirty, half-painted house and just felt defeated. Utterly defeated. I had some cashews for dinner because I read that they help combat depression. I don't know how many you have to eat, but 1/3 of a can of Planters just made me feel sick.
I talked to Gargamel (still safely in the wilds of Western MA and far far away from the hell that is my house) and he did his best to cheer me up. He gave me that "Glass half full or half empty" analogy and i wanted to say, Not only is my glass half empty, but it's covered with maple syrup and cat hair.
The highlight of the night was when my sister (who is the most amazing thing on the planet for helping me out so much with this. i love you!) and I were cleaning the kitchen to the sounds of Richard Cheese and she accidentally spilled my beer all over the stove. (boo.) As she grabbed a paper towel to wipe it up, she exclaimed, HEY! THE CRAP IS COMING RIGHT OFF!
Yes, you heard it here first: Mexican Beer is the new Oxyclean!
Ole!
Tuesday, July 19, 2005
My Gigantic Ass Occasionally Comes in Handy
Like today, when I had to pull lunch for 12 people out of it.
I am V. V. TIRED of working magick all the time because noone at COCK can plan ahead.
In other news... I watched SAW the other night. And I am not ashamed to say that I was FREAKED THE FUCK OUT. Like, I made UnderBrush go and check all the closets to make sure that no serial killers were lurking inside. There weren't, but she did save me from a small beetle that was determined to share my pillow. He dropped out of nowhere and RIGHT NEXT TO MY FACE. Almost instantly, Underfoot swooped down and crunched him up in one determined bite. Then she looked surprised, spit him out (onto my pillow, I might add) and swiped at him a few times with her paw. Then she looked at me expectantly, like, ummm, I'm not sure what happened with this, but I think I am supposed to, like, you know, play with this thing before I finally eat it, right?
I patted her on the head and disposed of the bug. She seemed pleased with herself and we settled back down.
I went to my cousin Seth's wedding this weekend. Now, I am totally not the type of person who gets all emotional about marriage (unless you count hives as "getting emotional"), but when Heather walked down the aisle in her strapless, A-line, off white, embroidered gown, I was moved to tears. As I mentioned to my cousin Zach's girlfriend Amanda (who plays the spoons like a god damned demon) while we waited in the receiving line, I can't get excited about weddings, but FASHION, fashion gets me all choked up.
The ceremony was nice and the reception was ok. Wisely they chose to have a cash bar which totally cut down on my enjoyment, but it was nice chatting with my grandmother. Otherwise I would not have known about the insidious plot on the part of the Chinese to cripple America by manufacturing shoes without adequate support! The HORROR! But seriously, knowledge is totally power.
I am V. V. TIRED of working magick all the time because noone at COCK can plan ahead.
In other news... I watched SAW the other night. And I am not ashamed to say that I was FREAKED THE FUCK OUT. Like, I made UnderBrush go and check all the closets to make sure that no serial killers were lurking inside. There weren't, but she did save me from a small beetle that was determined to share my pillow. He dropped out of nowhere and RIGHT NEXT TO MY FACE. Almost instantly, Underfoot swooped down and crunched him up in one determined bite. Then she looked surprised, spit him out (onto my pillow, I might add) and swiped at him a few times with her paw. Then she looked at me expectantly, like, ummm, I'm not sure what happened with this, but I think I am supposed to, like, you know, play with this thing before I finally eat it, right?
I patted her on the head and disposed of the bug. She seemed pleased with herself and we settled back down.
I went to my cousin Seth's wedding this weekend. Now, I am totally not the type of person who gets all emotional about marriage (unless you count hives as "getting emotional"), but when Heather walked down the aisle in her strapless, A-line, off white, embroidered gown, I was moved to tears. As I mentioned to my cousin Zach's girlfriend Amanda (who plays the spoons like a god damned demon) while we waited in the receiving line, I can't get excited about weddings, but FASHION, fashion gets me all choked up.
The ceremony was nice and the reception was ok. Wisely they chose to have a cash bar which totally cut down on my enjoyment, but it was nice chatting with my grandmother. Otherwise I would not have known about the insidious plot on the part of the Chinese to cripple America by manufacturing shoes without adequate support! The HORROR! But seriously, knowledge is totally power.
Monday, July 18, 2005
Flawed
One of my biggest problems is my propinquity toward focusing on the flaws rather than the good bits. (see? I can be a famous blogger too! And misuse words!) No, seriously, I am way more inclined to look at myself and say, WOW! You have a huge fat belly! than say something like, Your climbing muscles look really kick ass! Chalk it up to low self-esteem or whatever you want, but it kinda sucks. Especially when it comes to painting.
I finished painting my room and the dining room this weekend. THEY ARE TOTALLY DONE. Done, like, NO MORE PAINTING REQUIRED. Which should be a huge victory considering all the threats I have uttered to PT in particular about how I was going to hurl myself out the window rather than pick up another paint brush. (Action Geek suggested that G might want to invest in something like this for all the windows.) But instead of popping a bubbling bottle of luke warm diet coke and touting my DIY greatness, I stood in the dining room for a good 15 minutes PICKING OUT ALL THE PLACES THAT ARE LESS THAN PERFECT. I really need to get some furniture in there so that I can stop obsessing. Or at least put some stuff in front of the obsessing. But nothing that can scratch the paint.
I finished painting my room and the dining room this weekend. THEY ARE TOTALLY DONE. Done, like, NO MORE PAINTING REQUIRED. Which should be a huge victory considering all the threats I have uttered to PT in particular about how I was going to hurl myself out the window rather than pick up another paint brush. (Action Geek suggested that G might want to invest in something like this for all the windows.) But instead of popping a bubbling bottle of luke warm diet coke and touting my DIY greatness, I stood in the dining room for a good 15 minutes PICKING OUT ALL THE PLACES THAT ARE LESS THAN PERFECT. I really need to get some furniture in there so that I can stop obsessing. Or at least put some stuff in front of the obsessing. But nothing that can scratch the paint.
Friday, July 15, 2005
No, it's NOT Bastille Day
But IT IS my v. good friend Emily's birthday AND my sister's birthday!
Happy birthday guys! Mini Schooligan, for you I pretended to give blood so that I could get a FREE TICKET to 6 Flags! Dee dee dee dee dee dee dee!
Last night, Emily and I drove to Boston to meet up with some of her friends and have dinner and celebrate. I was in awe of how thin and gorgeous everyone was. Because, you know, I haven't showered because I CAN'T and my feet smell funny because my only unpacked shoes have STINK LINES above them, and my glasses kept falling down my greasy nose and I was wearing the same jeans I have been wearing for, um, too long to admit. I tried to excuse my terrible appearance with, I just moved, but it seems like I have either just moved, am getting ready to move or actually MOVING for the past year now. NO MORE.
I did manage to avoid freaking out when I took the painter's tape off my walls and also took large strips of paint clean off as well. I threw the ball of tape across the room, but did NOT hurl myself out the window as I had threatened to previously. See? Progress. And I am NOT climbing this weekend expressly so that I can get my apartment into something resembling liveable so that when G gets back from the wilds of Western MA he can see how very NON FREAKED OUT and OH SO ADULT I am. And, also, will have some place to put his stuff that isn't in close proximity to wet paint.
I will not adopt a Jack Russell Terrier from the Worcester Animal Rescue League nor will I get a tattoo. I will clean and organize my apartment.
Thursday, July 14, 2005
Window Jumping Preventative
Oh, how I enjoy the antics of the Action Geek.
Not only can he make me spray chewed up M&Ms all over my computer screen, but because of his link to The Nation from his site, I AM FIRST ON A GOOGLE SEARCH FOR SCHOOLIGAN!!!
Oh, and besides the Seven Kinds of Fruit in Hawaiin Punch I love puzzles.
Mashed Potato Cookies
In a period of feverish delirium, my brother Morgan once made me take him to the supermarket so that we could get some Mashed Potato Cookies. He had been home sick and saw an ad on TV for these cookies, that were crispy on the outside and MASHED POTATO ON THE INSIDE!!
Umm. Ok.
I obligingly took him to the grocery store where we trolled the cookie aisle looking for something resembling mashed potato cookies. I had expressed my doubts about this, but the insistant feverish delirum of a cranky teenage boy was no match for me.
On a whim, I managed to steer him toward the frozen food section where we chanced upon these.
Morgan's "mashed potato cookies" were actually a tater tot type thing in the shape of a smile. Uhhh. Yeah.
I bought some of these for G and I the other day, and I have to say they are pretty darn good. Not quite as good as a FINISHED APARTMENT that I can actually LIVE IN, but good nonetheless.
Umm. Ok.
I obligingly took him to the grocery store where we trolled the cookie aisle looking for something resembling mashed potato cookies. I had expressed my doubts about this, but the insistant feverish delirum of a cranky teenage boy was no match for me.
On a whim, I managed to steer him toward the frozen food section where we chanced upon these.
Morgan's "mashed potato cookies" were actually a tater tot type thing in the shape of a smile. Uhhh. Yeah.
I bought some of these for G and I the other day, and I have to say they are pretty darn good. Not quite as good as a FINISHED APARTMENT that I can actually LIVE IN, but good nonetheless.
Tuesday, July 12, 2005
From the Schooligan Files
Extra! Extra! Read all about it: The Schooligan's Narcissism has Reached a New High!
The New Issue of Action Geek is on the shelves and has a lovely article by Yours Truly. Please fuel the bonfire of my vanity and go buy a copy.
Gargamel and I painted late into the night last night and WE CAN TOTALLY SEE THE FINISH LINE! It's painted on the living room wall, actually. Good thing because I am moving in there, uh, tomorrow. I still need to call a plumber so that I can have a toilet that doesn't BURP when you flush it. The scatalogical implications of this are truly disgusting. In addition to Old Fecal erupting at regular intervals (ha!), I don't think the shower works. I mean, I am NO PLUMBER but the fact that the bathtub is two inches full of some kind of sludge seems to indicate a problem of some kind.
Ok, plumber can't come until NEXT WEEK. So, uh, yeah, if I show up and ask to use your bathroom, please be nice. Thank you.
The New Issue of Action Geek is on the shelves and has a lovely article by Yours Truly. Please fuel the bonfire of my vanity and go buy a copy.
Gargamel and I painted late into the night last night and WE CAN TOTALLY SEE THE FINISH LINE! It's painted on the living room wall, actually. Good thing because I am moving in there, uh, tomorrow. I still need to call a plumber so that I can have a toilet that doesn't BURP when you flush it. The scatalogical implications of this are truly disgusting. In addition to Old Fecal erupting at regular intervals (ha!), I don't think the shower works. I mean, I am NO PLUMBER but the fact that the bathtub is two inches full of some kind of sludge seems to indicate a problem of some kind.
Ok, plumber can't come until NEXT WEEK. So, uh, yeah, if I show up and ask to use your bathroom, please be nice. Thank you.
Monday, July 11, 2005
Asses of Mass Destruction
So, I have this problem with my ass. Namely that it keeps BUSTING OUT OF MY PANTS and threatening to take over the world. I have had two pair of Prana climbing pants fall victim to AssZilla in the past three months.
Last night it happened again.
I was calmly packing up my apartment when all of a sudden I felt the back seam of my pyjamas tear right up my backside.
Granted they were Old Navy circa 1998, but this does not bode well.
Last night it happened again.
I was calmly packing up my apartment when all of a sudden I felt the back seam of my pyjamas tear right up my backside.
Granted they were Old Navy circa 1998, but this does not bode well.
Enter The Voodoo Lounge
I spent the ENTIRE WEEKEND painting. Surprisingly, I still have both arms firmly attached to my body. You can go here and visualize what PT and I are terming "Our Very Adult Apartment."
My room is Jade White and Moonlight Blue.
PT's studio is Deep Garnet and POISON PEN! (Actually, i picked these.)
The Living room is Voodo and Moonlight blue.
The Dining Room is Appraoching Night.
Except that on my crappy computer here at cock, all the colors look like some variant of BLACK, which they cetainly ARE NOT. Just because I am moving in with a SuperVillain doesn't mean that I have to paint my apartment like one.
In speaking of SuperVillains, I am now an AMBASSADOR for Maker's Mark Bourbon and as part of my prestigeous position, uh, drinking the shit out of their bourbon, I get a barrel of whiskey named for me. So, sometime in the next year (it takes a while, you know, to like, age and stuff) we shall be able to partake of their special SuperVillain batch. Mmmmm.
So yeah, we painted ALL WEEKEND and special thanks to Joanne and Mark Miller who came and PRIMED THE FUCK OUT OF THE PLACE on Saturday. Of course, they slipped in that they are moving next month...
Something, something paying the fidler. Blah.
My room is Jade White and Moonlight Blue.
PT's studio is Deep Garnet and POISON PEN! (Actually, i picked these.)
The Living room is Voodo and Moonlight blue.
The Dining Room is Appraoching Night.
Except that on my crappy computer here at cock, all the colors look like some variant of BLACK, which they cetainly ARE NOT. Just because I am moving in with a SuperVillain doesn't mean that I have to paint my apartment like one.
In speaking of SuperVillains, I am now an AMBASSADOR for Maker's Mark Bourbon and as part of my prestigeous position, uh, drinking the shit out of their bourbon, I get a barrel of whiskey named for me. So, sometime in the next year (it takes a while, you know, to like, age and stuff) we shall be able to partake of their special SuperVillain batch. Mmmmm.
So yeah, we painted ALL WEEKEND and special thanks to Joanne and Mark Miller who came and PRIMED THE FUCK OUT OF THE PLACE on Saturday. Of course, they slipped in that they are moving next month...
Something, something paying the fidler. Blah.
Thursday, July 07, 2005
Do It Your Motherfucking Self
As a prime example of both my extreme CHEAPNESS and inability to LEARN ANYTHING, I am undertaking another ridiculous "home improvement" project. Basically, I am getting this Great Deal on an apartment that is big and has closets and prime location, but it needs work. A LOT OF WORK. Like so much work that everytime I think about how much work needs to be done I get this chest squeezing anxiety and the desire to throw myself out of a window.
Gargamel keeps telling me to channel my angst and irritability into painting instead of screaming at him like some sub-human undead type thing. I mean, he has a point, me repeatedly screetching, I HATE YOU AND I AM NOT LIVING IN A HOUSE THE COLOR OF COMMUNIST CHINA! really hasn't helped any.
So, I am desperately trying to focus on the finished Voodoo Lounge/JimJam Station/Skull-tini Bar instead of the dingy walls and non-working toilet.
Slevy commented, you guys are like the king and queen of DIY. you could be the next home depot poster people. i am so impressed.
Hahahahahahahahahahaha.
Yeah, if Home Depot sold Bourbon and Valium.
Gargamel keeps telling me to channel my angst and irritability into painting instead of screaming at him like some sub-human undead type thing. I mean, he has a point, me repeatedly screetching, I HATE YOU AND I AM NOT LIVING IN A HOUSE THE COLOR OF COMMUNIST CHINA! really hasn't helped any.
So, I am desperately trying to focus on the finished Voodoo Lounge/JimJam Station/Skull-tini Bar instead of the dingy walls and non-working toilet.
Slevy commented, you guys are like the king and queen of DIY. you could be the next home depot poster people. i am so impressed.
Hahahahahahahahahahaha.
Yeah, if Home Depot sold Bourbon and Valium.
Wednesday, July 06, 2005
it's like a never-ending seventeen magazine! with all the "and then i got my period in my WHITE dress" stories you can handle!
I can't stop reading this site!
Here is my favorite one:
Well I have been dating Christopher for over three years and we plan to get married. He asked me to marry him about a month before prom so I was still showing off my rock to everyone the night of prom. We showed up on my Harley and everyone was watching us. Well we started dancing like crazy and then all of a sudden I felt my engagement ring fly into the air. I was mortified and I had to go and get it. I started crawling on the ground and my boyfriend got up on stage and told every one to look for it. It turns out it had hit my principle in the head and gave him a big indention. He told me to get it sized and made me leave prom. After prom was a blas and I'm now happily married, and yes my principle came to my wedding. Peace.
-- Alyse salina KS
Here is my favorite one:
Well I have been dating Christopher for over three years and we plan to get married. He asked me to marry him about a month before prom so I was still showing off my rock to everyone the night of prom. We showed up on my Harley and everyone was watching us. Well we started dancing like crazy and then all of a sudden I felt my engagement ring fly into the air. I was mortified and I had to go and get it. I started crawling on the ground and my boyfriend got up on stage and told every one to look for it. It turns out it had hit my principle in the head and gave him a big indention. He told me to get it sized and made me leave prom. After prom was a blas and I'm now happily married, and yes my principle came to my wedding. Peace.
-- Alyse salina KS
Sharp End of the Rope
Note: Non-Climbers may want to skip this one.
After a moderate success in removing the cat piss carpet from my soon-to-be-inhabitable NEW apartment, I headed up to North Conway, NH for some much needed climbing. I met Mike and Mikey and Edna on Sunday and we headed up to Cathedral Ledge. Mikey and Edna hit Thin Air and Mike and I decided to take on Still in Saigon, 2 pitches of 5.8, with some bolts and fixed pins.
Mike and I are still pretty new at the whole trad lead thing, but we climbed without incident and felt pretty good about the whole thing. We finished the day topping out on Pine Tree Eliminate a VERY AGGRESSIVE 5.8+ crack. Mikey lead and the rest of us followed with much grunting and swearing. New England REALLY needs to stop with the friggin "5.8 default rating system". PTE was the hardest 5.8 IN THE WORLD. Seriously.
After climbing, we hit the Spicy Lime for some much needed spicy tofu curry. Mmmmm. We also opted to get a hotel room because, well, we were tired and couldn't be fucked with finding a campsite and were totally seduced by FREE HOT TUB signs along the side of Rt. 16. We ended up at the Suisse Chalet which did have A hot tub. Which Mikey and I shared with a couple who were taking their kids to StoryLand. *Shudder*
The hot tub and sleeping in beds did wonders as did the "free continental breakfast" (waffles!), so when we met up with Forrest and Suzanne at FrontSide Grind we were ready for another day of climbing. F&S decided to head over to WhiteHorse and tackle the Standard Route, Mike had his eye on Bombardment, a 2 pitch 5.8 on Cathedral. Mikey, Mike and I decided to tackle Bombardment as a team of 3 and then meet up with Forrest and Suzanne for dinner.
Mike tackled the first pitch, rated 5.6R. The "R" stands for "Run Out" and "Not really any place to put gear" and "If you fall, you are so totally going to get hurt." It was a gently sloping slab, but thankfully, a short one, with not much gear. Mike lead it without incident and we followed him up to the belay ledge.
Anchoring into a tree, we surveyed the next pitch. Mikey had already climbed it and described it as "a hoot". The guide book said something about an "awkward crack with good gear." I kept thinking about yesterday's version of 5.8 which left me sweating, panting, grunting and cussing. On toprope, no less.
I agreed to lead it and racked up. I started up, placed a couple of cams and started to wonder what the HELL i had gotten myself into. Boy, was it hot up there. The sun seemed to be boring directly into my skull sending a deluge of sweat into my eyes and onto the already greasy rock. Because I was climbing a crack, there wasn't any good place to put my feet. I ended up toe jamming into the crack and torquing my feet in my very tight shoes into a variety of painful positions.
Just below the crux, I watched my last piece, a purple camalot walk out of the crack and slide down the rope. I was decidedly uncomfortable. And hot. And shaking. Then I dropped Mikey's #3 Cam and watched it ping off the cliff and down to the ground below. (luckily another party picked it up and returned it) And so began the hysterical litany of curse words.
FUCK FUCK FUCK.
I was suddenly faced with MORTALITY as I teetered just below the crux, dropping gear, and wondering just how good my previous placements had been. I was convinced they were going to kill me. WHAT THE HELL WAS I DOING? SHIT! I struggled to breathe and think as MIkey gave me beta from below. "Just put in another piece and lower off. It's ok. Just relax." *Grin*
How the hell was I supposed to relax when I was moments from DEATH? Still teetering on increasingly greasy holds, I surveyed what was left of my rack. Not much considering I had stuck cams in about every 6 inches up this damn thing. Below me was a grey alien that seemed like it would hold. "Seemed like" wasn't quite good enough. I fiddled some more and managed to wedge in a blue tricam that was both totally bomber and guided by the hand of God himself. I gingerly leaned back on it and Lo! IT HELD! God apparently was satisfied with scaring me shitless and saw no need to kill me at this time. Thanks, bro!
Back on the belay ledge I collapsed into an anthill and tried to recover some of my dignity. The Mikes were really nice and supportive and didn't let me beat myself up too much. I mean, I've only been placing gear for like, 5 minutes, right? What do I expect? Plus, I did place a really awesome tricam.
Mikey lead the pitch, Brian showed up and I seconded it WITH ABSOLUTELY NO TROUBLE AT ALL. It was... easy. And... FUN! Whaaaaa? Stupid trad lead mindfuck.
After a moderate success in removing the cat piss carpet from my soon-to-be-inhabitable NEW apartment, I headed up to North Conway, NH for some much needed climbing. I met Mike and Mikey and Edna on Sunday and we headed up to Cathedral Ledge. Mikey and Edna hit Thin Air and Mike and I decided to take on Still in Saigon, 2 pitches of 5.8, with some bolts and fixed pins.
Mike and I are still pretty new at the whole trad lead thing, but we climbed without incident and felt pretty good about the whole thing. We finished the day topping out on Pine Tree Eliminate a VERY AGGRESSIVE 5.8+ crack. Mikey lead and the rest of us followed with much grunting and swearing. New England REALLY needs to stop with the friggin "5.8 default rating system". PTE was the hardest 5.8 IN THE WORLD. Seriously.
After climbing, we hit the Spicy Lime for some much needed spicy tofu curry. Mmmmm. We also opted to get a hotel room because, well, we were tired and couldn't be fucked with finding a campsite and were totally seduced by FREE HOT TUB signs along the side of Rt. 16. We ended up at the Suisse Chalet which did have A hot tub. Which Mikey and I shared with a couple who were taking their kids to StoryLand. *Shudder*
The hot tub and sleeping in beds did wonders as did the "free continental breakfast" (waffles!), so when we met up with Forrest and Suzanne at FrontSide Grind we were ready for another day of climbing. F&S decided to head over to WhiteHorse and tackle the Standard Route, Mike had his eye on Bombardment, a 2 pitch 5.8 on Cathedral. Mikey, Mike and I decided to tackle Bombardment as a team of 3 and then meet up with Forrest and Suzanne for dinner.
Mike tackled the first pitch, rated 5.6R. The "R" stands for "Run Out" and "Not really any place to put gear" and "If you fall, you are so totally going to get hurt." It was a gently sloping slab, but thankfully, a short one, with not much gear. Mike lead it without incident and we followed him up to the belay ledge.
Anchoring into a tree, we surveyed the next pitch. Mikey had already climbed it and described it as "a hoot". The guide book said something about an "awkward crack with good gear." I kept thinking about yesterday's version of 5.8 which left me sweating, panting, grunting and cussing. On toprope, no less.
I agreed to lead it and racked up. I started up, placed a couple of cams and started to wonder what the HELL i had gotten myself into. Boy, was it hot up there. The sun seemed to be boring directly into my skull sending a deluge of sweat into my eyes and onto the already greasy rock. Because I was climbing a crack, there wasn't any good place to put my feet. I ended up toe jamming into the crack and torquing my feet in my very tight shoes into a variety of painful positions.
Just below the crux, I watched my last piece, a purple camalot walk out of the crack and slide down the rope. I was decidedly uncomfortable. And hot. And shaking. Then I dropped Mikey's #3 Cam and watched it ping off the cliff and down to the ground below. (luckily another party picked it up and returned it) And so began the hysterical litany of curse words.
FUCK FUCK FUCK.
I was suddenly faced with MORTALITY as I teetered just below the crux, dropping gear, and wondering just how good my previous placements had been. I was convinced they were going to kill me. WHAT THE HELL WAS I DOING? SHIT! I struggled to breathe and think as MIkey gave me beta from below. "Just put in another piece and lower off. It's ok. Just relax." *Grin*
How the hell was I supposed to relax when I was moments from DEATH? Still teetering on increasingly greasy holds, I surveyed what was left of my rack. Not much considering I had stuck cams in about every 6 inches up this damn thing. Below me was a grey alien that seemed like it would hold. "Seemed like" wasn't quite good enough. I fiddled some more and managed to wedge in a blue tricam that was both totally bomber and guided by the hand of God himself. I gingerly leaned back on it and Lo! IT HELD! God apparently was satisfied with scaring me shitless and saw no need to kill me at this time. Thanks, bro!
Back on the belay ledge I collapsed into an anthill and tried to recover some of my dignity. The Mikes were really nice and supportive and didn't let me beat myself up too much. I mean, I've only been placing gear for like, 5 minutes, right? What do I expect? Plus, I did place a really awesome tricam.
Mikey lead the pitch, Brian showed up and I seconded it WITH ABSOLUTELY NO TROUBLE AT ALL. It was... easy. And... FUN! Whaaaaa? Stupid trad lead mindfuck.
Tuesday, July 05, 2005
Would you rather...
Coming back from a climbing trip one time, my friends and I were playing a rousing game of Would You Rather and I came up with: Would you rather have public, televised sex with Carrot Top that EVERYONE YOU KNOW including grandparents, ex boyfriends, grade school teachers will see and never let you live down OR live in a house that CONSTANTLY smells like cat pee and you can NEVER MOVE?
I will soon live in that house.
Seriously.
The Schooligan is Moving! But first, I had to tear up THREE ROOMS of cat piss infused carpeting. My brother and sister helped and we threw it out a second story window right onto my dad's herb garden. We smashed this season's chive crop and let me say that the only thing that smells worse that cat pee is cat pee and onion. Dad was less than impressed but he still took me to Home Depot so we could buy paint. I had a TOTAL MELTDOWN when the dude asked me if I wanted Matte, Eggshell, Satin, Semi Gloss or Gloss. I burst into hysterical tears and said, I DON'T KNOW! JUST TELL ME WHAT I WANT!
At this point, I totally don't care.
I will soon live in that house.
Seriously.
The Schooligan is Moving! But first, I had to tear up THREE ROOMS of cat piss infused carpeting. My brother and sister helped and we threw it out a second story window right onto my dad's herb garden. We smashed this season's chive crop and let me say that the only thing that smells worse that cat pee is cat pee and onion. Dad was less than impressed but he still took me to Home Depot so we could buy paint. I had a TOTAL MELTDOWN when the dude asked me if I wanted Matte, Eggshell, Satin, Semi Gloss or Gloss. I burst into hysterical tears and said, I DON'T KNOW! JUST TELL ME WHAT I WANT!
At this point, I totally don't care.
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