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Friday, June 29, 2012


Ahhh, payday. One of the most anticipated joys of adulthood. Don’t get me wrong, there is a ton of stuff that is awesome about being an adult: I can go where I want, when I want, I can eat ice cream in my favorite flavor at any time of the day or night, I can eat meals from wherever I want, or not eat if I’m not hungry, I definitely pick out my own clothes (on second thought, that one might sometimes be a negative), I can travel alone, I don’t have a curfew, and most importantly, there are no annoying brothers at my apartment sticking their stinky feet anywhere near my face. No, now my boyfriend thinks it’s funny to do just that. Sigh. Boys!

Anyway! Back to the most wonderful of all things adult-y. PAYDAY. I always anticipate payday. Sometimes I am in the black and it is not a need-it-right-now type of anticipation, more of an “ahhh, money” type of feeling. Other times, I had all of my bills due out of the last paycheck, and then suddenly was like “OK! I have $13 to live on for the next week and a half! Aaaaaaand go!”

That is when I look MOST forward to the next payday.
This is what payday looks like in my dreams. But as a brunette.
It’s just kind of amazing. Sometimes, when work is slow, I can sit back and say to myself “HA! They are paying me for THIS!” And other times, work is insanely busy and I start to think “I don’t think they pay me enough for this...”

Today is payday in my world. But not if I owe you money. Then, I don’t even have a job. In fact, I died. Sorry, take it up with the Reaper.

It is just a nice, grown-up sort of feeling. To be compensated monetarily for work that I do. My parents didn’t do it that way. I was their kid, therefore I did chores, and money was not an incentive, though NOT doing the chores certainly held consequences.

Other grown up feelings for me include:
-Suddenly realizing I can skip whenever I want and no one can tell me not to.
-Having a conversation about things like “interest rates” and “investment opportunities” and having that bizarre are-we-really-talking-about-this feelings, but actually knowing what it all means.
-Making all the puns I want.
-Looking for apartments or at cars. Those make me feel remarkably grown up.
-Making decisions for traveling!
-Going to bed whenever I want!
Weird things about being an adult:
-Your friends start getting married or having babies, and you’re like “Wait! I’m not ready for all this! I’m still only 13 on the inside and in maturity!”
-When you really want to sleep in, but you have “responsibilities.” Sigh.
-That weird feeling that sometimes comes over me like “I have no idea what I’m talking about!” Except that I really do, it just feels weird. Like politics. 10 years ago, I had no idea. Now, I follow them more. And that seems odd to me.
-Making all your own decisions. I still call my mom for advice and stuff, but really, it all comes down to me. That’s superweird.
-Buying furniture. You just don’t think about that stuff as a kid.

In conclusion, I like being adult-y and nyah-nyah to all those kids who are not. Also, I could so go for an ice cream sandwich right now. Or possibly waffles?

I leave you with this picture of a basset hound running. It made me laugh and if it doesn't make YOU laugh, then you are stone cold and I don't know if we should be friends anymore. 
In my head, he is thinking "Oh GOD WHY AM I running? What am I doing?!"

Wednesday, June 20, 2012

It’s Just A Flesh Wound!

This is how I described how I felt after being sick, to a friend: “Better, but not great. Example: I could probably bring myself to jump, but it wouldn’t be very high and I wouldn’t have a smile on while doing it.”

That was just one of those “ugh-not-feeling-well” days. You know, when you’re technically FINE and well enough to work, but you are just feeling a bit off?

And then there are the times when you actually do injure yourself dramatically, whether it is chopping of half a finger with a kitchen knife and ruining the broccoli, or taking a chainsaw to your knee, or pulling a groin muscle at the gym. It is at THOSE times that I realize that “Ehh, it’s not THAT bad, I can walk this off.”

Actual leg-chainsaw wound. Who knew they went IN? 
Once, during my 6-year tenure as a waitress in high school and college, I was using a filet knife (really SUPER SHARP) and accidentally sliced down my pinky finger. The knife was so sharp I hadn’t even realized I’d cut myself until I saw the blood. There was a LOT of it. But I was still at work, so I wrapped it up and kept going. By the end of the shift, I’d gone through a bunch of paper towels and bandaids. The coolest thing about the whole thing was that you could actually see all the tissues and muscle, because I had cut it down to the bone (I am not squeamish).

It finally slowed down on the bleeding, and it wasn’t unbearably painful, so I just went home. The next morning, I realized it was worse than I’d thought, and I went to the ER to see about some stitches. Turns out, I did need them, but they won’t put any in if it has been more than 6 hours, due to bacteria n’ stuff. So, they bandaged and wrapped it and sent me on my way. I still have the scar.

But if I get a papercut? HELL NO! Call the ambulance because I think they’ll have to take the whole hand! Have you ever seen the Jackass movies? I have, and a lot of it is ridiculously funny. But they have this one bit where they take a manila envelope and they give each other papercuts on the webbing of their fingers and toes. I almost DIED. It was terrible and cringeworthy and hurt my very soul.

And yet, when I was 9, I broke my collarbone and when the doctor asked me how, I couldn’t remember. Probably because I was always doing stupid reckless stuff, so no particular incident leapt out at me. I also broke a lot of bones as a kid.

But it’s the same way when I’m sick. I have a cold and it’s like I’m dying. The worst is when someone (other than your mom) is trying to take care of you. I just want to lay in bed, unshowered and disgusting, and not be touched by anyone. The last thing I need is for anyone (other than my mom) seeing me that way. I just want to be left alone to sleep and die. I’m like a guy that way.

Have you ever been around a guy when he has a simple cold? I have 4 older brothers. This is what it’s like: “OH GOD, WHY ME? WHY DO YOU HATE ME SOOO? I AM DYING! IS MY DEATH ENOUGH TO APPEASE YOU, OH HATEFUL GOD OF THE SKY?!” And so on. Usually while laying in bed while Mom cooks something (or laughs).

But if any of us has something more serious, we kind of adopt an “ignore it and it will go away” mentality. I certainly do. “What? Pneumonia? Pffft. I feel ok. I’m definitely ok to work. I HAVE to work. There is no way I’m losing out on my long weekend in Myrtle Beach because some pansy-ass pneumonia dared to invade my Fortress of Bodily Amazingness and sacrifice my vacation days. *cough cough rattle* I’m good, I’m going to go prove it by skateboarding over a beached whale. That’ll show everyone!”

 I hear if you ignore it hard enough, it’s like it doesn’t even EXIST. And this pic is nice.

Also, one of my favorite phrases when i scrape something, injure something, or cut something is to mutter “Shake it off, walk it off, take it like a man.” No idea why, I’ve just said it for as long as I can remember when I or someone I know hurts themselves somehow.

Friday, June 15, 2012

Apartment Hunting, i.e. I Just Want A Place To Put All My Stuff While I Go Out & Work To Buy More Stuff!

Apartment hunting it NOTHING like buying a new car. When it comes to cars, you can do the research at home, go to the lots, take the cars for a test drive, and examine it up close and personal, and know that few to no butts have touched your brand new car seats. Car buying can be and often is an exciting, pleasurable experience, resulting in a brand-new this-is-EXACTLY-what-I-wanted! Car buying is fun.

Apartment hunting is the exact opposite of that experience. You see a place for 10 minutes, have no idea if the neighbors are 30-decibel gospel-CD-listeners at 2 am, if the washing machine works, or if the water pressure in the shower is more “chihuahua’s tinkle” or “Niagra Falls.” And then you decide almost immediately whether or not to give them your life savings, your social security number, and your signature in blood to live there.

I am in sales. I have been in sales for about 5 years now, and I know all the questions to ask, how to counter objections, and to close the sale. I am nowhere near Real Estate Broker level. I admit this! When we see an apartment, and the broker asks me what I think, I can usually tell them honestly if I just didn’t like it at all. I mean, we all know that there are definitely places we WILL NOT live, but it is a lot more difficult to admit I thought it was at least halfway decent.

Boyfriend: “Yeah, it’s a nice place.”
Me: “Yeah, I like it. Good space.”
Me and BF: “Umm...I’m not sure we are ready to make a decision.”
Me and BF: “That’s nice, we are still looking, but thanks, this place is great.”

And that is basically what happens. I may have paraphrased a bit.
This guy is super creepy. His evil real estate smile is mocking me! So...this is a stock image, if you can't tell. lol
For me, apartment hunting in New York is like nothing else I've done. In Florida (where I am from), you drive to an apartment complex you think you might want to see, you go to the management office and see all the prices for different units, and then they take you to see one of the apartments. The worker who shows you the apartment doesn’t really care if you love it or not, because they are getting paid their $8 per hour whether you take it or not. And you can do this at as many apartment complexes as you’d like. It’s not too bad of a process.

In New York, you basically have about 30 days from your move-in date to look, and you scour things like Craigslist and Padmapper (actually, padmapper is pretty cool. It actually uses Google Maps and shows you the locations of the listings from CL and other sources), and then you have Brokers. And they have FEES. It’s a Finder’s Fee, basically. They find you an apartment, and then they find your wallet and empty it out with a hearty “Thanks! Have a great life!”

And you have a new home. Awww. :)

Some people say the ever-trite "Home is where the heart is." AWWWW THAT IS SO ADORABLE.

Home is where all my crap is. I need some place to store it, and I need a place to sleep, so it just makes sense that it is one place for both. 

Also, I love my crap. MY CRAP is "stuff." YOUR STUFF is "crap." That's how this whole thing works. And I need my books. I LOVE my books and I think they make a home homier. So there.

On the plus side, we have actually seen some very nice apartments in our price range. The further out in Brooklyn you look, the more space you get for your money. As of this moment, we have 2 places that we like. One we are already approved for, but the renovations aren’t done, so we haven’t seen it whole yet, and one that is nice and homey, but we aren’t approved for yet. COME ON, UNIVERSE! We need some good vibes over here!

Anyone have any truly heinous, cry-it-out-hate-my-life apartment stories? Or one of those whoa-this-wasn’t-NEARLY-as-soulcrushingly-traumatizing-as-I-thought-it-was-going-to-be ones?

Tuesday, June 5, 2012

Gonna Party Like It's My Birthday!

Hey hey! So, today I am 26. I am not a prime number, nor an odd number, which are my favorites, but I AM, there's that. :)

Since it's my birthday and I can do whatever I want, I figured I would post a couple of pictures that made me laugh, a couple of supremely random fb posts I made, and just an odd thought here and there. 

Random FB posts from me:
There was a bum on the train this morning, but she was overly aggressive. Like, "What! So I don't have no money! WHAT!" in one guys face and then a few seconds of quiet, and then "So, anybody got a dime or somethin'?" And I'm like "Whoa. Check your approach, you catch more flies with honey, dude." 

[This is true, it happened this morning. Honestly, it seems like an odd approach to asking people for stuff.]

Seriously just told someone: "Your cleverosity knows no bounds. It hurdles over obstacles like a great, majestic flamingo." in response to a superlame joke he made. :) heck yeah 

[Hey, even if it's a lame joke, it deserves an epic response. THE WORLD IS WATCHING YOUR LAME JOKES!]

ugh, summer. The time when you now touch other people's bare arms with yours when sitting on the train. :P 

[Think about it, it's a little bit icky.]

I was a c-section baby. I wasn't born, I was surgically removed. Like a tumor! LIKE A TOO-MAH! (Arnold Schwarzenegger voice!)

[I'm....I am weird.]

5/23/12: (a quote)
Awesome Jimmy Kimmel quote: "Aren't all marriages kind of gay? As a man, when you get married, essentially what you're saying is, "I will never touch another woman as long as I live, now let's put jewelry on each other and dance."'' I love this. :)

Radios sing songs. I sing songs. Therefore, I am a radio.

[You've just been LOGICKED! This deteriorated in the comments into other logical conclusions.]

Every now and then, I like to run up to one of my friends, and slap my palm to their forehead and yell "THE POWER OF CHRIST COMPELS YOU!"

You just never know when or if someone has been possessed, and by what.

[True. And it's fun to see their reactions. They are not all favorable.]

And avenge stuff n' shit.

Random thoughts:
-Sometimes, I look at someone, and I instinctively think to myself, "Now that is someone who types in all caps." This may be an effective early-warning system for douches. Is this a marketable idea?
-If you are wearing headphones, why do I still need to hear your music? Is for validation? For proof that you are, in fact, listening to terrible music? Doesn't it hurt your ears? Also, I'm just sayin'...there are times you might not want me to hear what you're listening to. That means you, large scary-looking biker-guy with head-bandana listening (loudly) to Celine Dion while bobbing your head like it's something more hardcore. I know the Titanic song, too.


 Bottom part is dumb. Top part is awesome. A bunch of people with doughnuts on fishing poles taunting riot police. This is what I imagine at least one of the cops is thinking: "Well....I AM hungry...and it's not like anyone else is eating them. I think they probably won't notice if only one is gone..." And one of the others is like "FRANK! FRANK! Dammit, Frank! Now look what you've done!"

 Today, I shall party like it's 1999, get a seat on the train, rock a Fedora, and possibly even other stuff. I know, it's a packed schedule, but I feel like if I wish on a star, cross my fingers, and catch a train as I walk into the station magically, then I'll be cool. :) 

I leave you with this epic picture. No caption necessary, really.