Archive for October, 2006

If I won the lottery…

October 31, 2006

1. Bionic Kitty would be the first cat in the world to have a ball with a bell that could only be heard at cat decibels and I would finally sleep peacefully each night.

2. I would get my toosh professionally kicked on a daily basis by a personal trainer. And if that didn’t make it firm and tight and perky, hello liposuction.

3. I would buy K-Fed’s new album because I would have mullah to burn.

4. My new job title would be “President and CEO.” Of what does not matter. It would just look good on the business cards.

5. After an intensive but stunningly successful lobbying process funded by yours truly, Rachel Ray would be surgically muzzled. The official act of Congress which required this to occur would be entitled “HR Bill 107-96: Make the Gerbil Lady stop talking.” It would be backed by huge popular demand.

6. Diet chocolate would exist. And taste good.

7. I would build a fantastic house and the pool boys would be Nick Lachey (for his abs), Heath Ledger (for his sensual self) and Pat Sajak (because, really, he needs to make a career move).

8. Each month, would automatically send me all the new trashy romance novels that had come out in the last 30 days. But they would all have fake covers that make me look like I was reading intellectual material.

9. I would build a shoe closet that’s as big as my current basement.

10. I would rent my mother some grandchildren


A Dishwasher Saga

October 30, 2006

Dear Landlord:

While I very much understand that old appliances break, and yes, might even cause small fires which I must valiantly put out with nothing but a cup of water and a hot dog (all I had handy when I discovered said small fire), I take issue with the continued fire problem I seem to be dealing with here. To have the replacement appliance, on its first use, likewise catch fire is somewhat worrisome. Not only do I now fear turning on any other appliances in my home, but I subsequently have scalded Poverty Barn plates and dishwater hands. Ick. Perhaps if your lovely circa 1982 kitchen wallpaper was damaged and not my beloved dishes, you would be more attentive to this issue?

The continued nature of this problem leads me to speculate that it is not the appliances themselves which are at fault. Rather, I am beginning to suspect that the electrical set-up is the problem. For protective measures, I have decided to look at fire extinguishers online. If I buy one and have to use it, I am making you clean up what the websites say is a very large the mess! Anyway, I am not an electrician or even an expert in dishwasher models, but I am going to hazard a guess that two dishwashers don’t go up in smoke unless there is a problem with the place they plug into.

I further bring to your attention that I’ve recently experienced another small appliance fire (please see post called: A Play-By-Play of My Brain’s Inner Workings Today) in the other stunningly wallpapered area in the house — the bathroom. Maybe its my psychic energy protesting the choice of wall decor that has been thrust upon me, but recently my relatively new hairdryer also went up in flames. This was not exactly a pleasant way to start a morning, not to mention that if it weren’t for some quick faucet action, I might have burned my hair beyond a subtle singe. Likewise, I’ve gone through an alarm clock and a curling iron and a blender and a toaster since I’ve lived here. To the great relief of the fire marshall, it wasn’t from flame or smoke, but that’s still an awful lot of electrical equitpment to go bust in a five month period. I believe a pattern is emerging and it involves outlets, appliances, an occasional fire, and one pissed off tenant.

Please advise how you intend to address this problem. Should the appliance fires continue or perhaps even lead to a big fire wherein all my stuff gets burnt up, I will not be a happy camper. Plus, if I have to move back in with my parents, my dad is going to be really annoyed. I consider it only fair to mention that he has a air pellet gun and exceptionally good aim honed after years of backyard squirrel warfare (please see section entitled: You Hunt, Me Shoot).

Very truly yours,

Your tenant who simply wants a functioning dishwasher

PS-In the future, please close the door when you are running to your car for tools. While I am sure Bionic Kitty enjoyed her brief taste of the Great Outdoors, she has a track record of being an expensive cat and if she catches any more horrible diseases while she’s out and about, the sure-to-be-costly treatment might preclude me from paying the rent.

Halloween Hangover

October 30, 2006

I am never going out again. After this weekend, it is clear that I am officially an old fart. I have reached the point in my life where I can no longer bounce back from a night of drinking and general debauchery, let alone two. It appears this Cinderella has visited her last ball (well, at least until next month).

This weekend’s festivities all started when my friend Kelly asked me to go to a party with her. It was at an old friend for law school’s house and I was looking forward to it. Missy always knew how to throw a party, and Kelly always knew how to enjoy one. It should have been great. But, it seems that Missy’s circle of friends has moved away from a nice mix of lesbians and women who like their male anatomy attached to a real male, to strictly all girl, all the time. While it was great to have my booty pinched and to know I was one of the hotties at the function, it was still strange. I love my lesbians, but it was like a real-life game of “which one of these things is not like the other” and I was the answer. It quickly became clear that since I was in such an uncomfortable situation with easy access to free beer, my plan of action was to drink until I didn’t care that I stuck out like a straight thumb.

When the beer could no longer provide a liquid safety net, Kelly and I figured why waste a perfectly good Friday night? Off we went to a bar. I was hoping to check out men and reaffirm my love of the testosterone-filled population. Sadly, the males in the bar were a let down. Nobody oogle-worthy. Thus, Kelly and I enacted Plan B: martinis! When Kelly dropped me off around 3 a.m., my martini-enhanced mind figured I needed to talk to people and my martini-enhanced mouth went along with it… I now need to apologize to people for long-winded drunk dials… Anyway, Saturday morning was a little rough but I was a trooper and I pushed through it. My agenda was hydration. After all, I had the Annual Rob and Laura Halloween Extravaganza to attend that evening and I needed to be ready…

Each year Rob and Laura throw a party for Halloween. It always into a night of mass drinking which results in good blackmail photos and a night spent on the couch/air mattress/floor of Rob’s closet. This year was no exception…

I decided to go as Cruella DeVille. It was a great costume since it allowed for 1. warmth when I had to wait in line at the keg (located outside) 2. ease in going to the bathroom (a lesson learned from a past year when I went as a Rubik’s Cube) and 3. I got to wear red fishnets. I have a love of any and all things fishnetish and they just don’t go well with my lawyerly wardrobe. Any excuse to wear them is a bonus.

If she doesn’t scare you, no evil thing will…
Originally uploaded by kjohnsonesq.

There was a ride array of costumes at the gathering. For instance, my friend Kelly (not the same Kelly of the lesbian party, but another one) was a Barbarian Slave Girl. Her outfit was a huge hit with the guys but sadly got a bit chilly as the evening progressed.

Cruella and the Barbarian Slave Girl
Originally uploaded by kjohnsonesq.

More fun costumes…The Miller High Life Girl and a Ghostbuster!

Laura and John
Originally uploaded by kjohnsonesq.

Johnny Walker and the Ghostbuster (drinking related costumes are very popular at this party)

John and Rob
Originally uploaded by kjohnsonesq.

At one point in the evening, for reasons unknown, Rob decided to challenge John to a bow tieing competition. Having a friend who has (and apparently wears) bow ties is another reason I’ve decided I am old. Thankfully, not all my guy friends can tie them. Well, at least John can’t, despite his valiant drunken effort.

Can you tie it in a knot, can you tie it in a bow?
Originally uploaded by kjohnsonesq.

I still think that Greg should have used his hat as a cup. Since it was the same color, I think the Beer God had pre-ordained it and I am sure Devo would have approved.

Danananana…whip it!
Originally uploaded by kjohnsonesq.

Da Keg…the source of my ills the next morning…

Da Keg
Originally uploaded by kjohnsonesq.

Chris and his accessories. As the night progressed, any and all clevage became fair game for target practice.

Chris and his gun
Originally uploaded by kjohnsonesq.

The two cowboys have a Beer Duel. Pace five steps, turn and chug. But Chris decided to warm up beforehand. If you loosen your gullet, it helps the beer flow faster, apparently.

A beer duel
Originally uploaded by kjohnsonesq.

In an effort to relive our drinking glory days (re: last year’s party), several rousing games of Flip Cup were played. Notice how sedate this group of winners is. I don’t think they got into the spirit of the game…

Flip cup winners!
Originally uploaded by kjohnsonesq.

…at least not as much as these later winners did!

More flip cup winners!
Originally uploaded by kjohnsonesq.

Yes, people did keg stands. On a pony keg. Because we are cool like that.

Somebody doing a keg stand
Originally uploaded by kjohnsonesq.

When the keg was cashed, it was time to shot gun beers. This is an involved and potentially hazardous process, especially when intoxicated, so next year I’m bringing a beer bong. Somebody needs to remind me. Phil shows he has not lost his shot gunning touch…

Phil demonstrates shot gunning a beer
Originally uploaded by kjohnsonesq.

Get some beer in us, and things get a little interesting…

Things get a little freaky
Originally uploaded by kjohnsonesq.

The end!

It’s 3 a.m. and we are tired
Originally uploaded by kjohnsonesq.

What Little Brother is Getting for Christmas

October 24, 2006

Three months of beef jerky! With new flavors each month! Only the finest jerky!
I am the Best Big Sister.

Note: the people who bought the Jerky Membership also bought some odd stuff…

A Moment Wherein I Endear Myself to Tech Support

October 24, 2006

Email from me to co-worker:

The tech support lady just told me that she slept especially good last night. And she’s going to massage school on the G.I. Bill. And she gave two massages last night in class, so that’s why she might have slept especially good. And…

Email from co-worker to me:

Did you solicit this information?

Email from me to co-worker:

No, it was just tech support lady’s moment to overshare.

Email from co-worker to me:

Interesting…Has she said more?

Email from me to co-worker:

She keeps telling me these things…She has a crush on a guy named Fred, she has big arm muscles… Clearly, tech support lady is NUTS!

But before I can hit send for the above email, tech support lady says to me:

I just took over your computer. I am about to go into DOS mode, but first would you like me to send this email about how nuts I am?

Lunchbox pictures go hightech

October 24, 2006

Since they don’t make Rainbow Bright lunchboxes anymore, maybe I should customize one. I wonder if they would let me use the cover from The Dastardly Count. Or maybe a picture of Matt Damon. Preferably nekkid.

Impulsive Chopping

October 24, 2006

About every three months, it dawns on me that my hair has gotten much too long, that I actually am not enamored of long hair, and man, I need to visit the haircut lady pronto. In a fit of haircutting madness, I call up the local beauty shop and get the first appointment with Emily.

Emily and I go way back. She’s been accommodating my urgent need to change my hair for years now. A lot of women drastically alter their hair after a break up or when they are depressed or for other lame reasons. Not me. No, I am just randomly driving around town when I am seized with the urge to cut and, if I’m feeling really feisty, maybe even color. Maybe it’s because the moon is in the seventh house, maybe it’s because it took 25 minutes to blow dry this morning, or maybe it’s because the weather has changed. Regardless, when I’m feeling the urge to chop, it has to happen within five hours or I go nutso. And Emily gets this. Plus, she has appointments available.

It is key to have a good relationship with a hair stylist, and I have one with Emily. She understands my parameters: I do lawyerly things and have to feel like I’m being cutting edge in my hair presentation, but really I am only comfortable looking like a hip mom; the ability to pull it back is nice; low maintenance is key at 6:30 in the morning; I loathe and detest “product” and if I have to put anything on my head besides shampoo and conditioner, I will be very unhappy; and it has to be able to grow out without me coming back until the next Hair Chop Mood strikes me. Simple principles really, but essential to my continued well-being when I look into a mirror.

Once, pre-Emily, I went to get my haircut during a frenzy and I came out looking like Mrs. Brady. Not cute-haircut-from-the-early-shows Mrs. Brady, but the ucky-business-in-the-front-and-a-party-in-the-back-mullet Mrs. Brady. I knew it was bad when I came home and my roommate said “oh.” Usually, a roommate will say, “it’s cute” and that’s code for “you look socially acceptable.” Or the roomie says “I like it,” then it means “maybe your sex life will improve with this one.” But “oh” translates to “would it be more kind to let you live in hiding til it grows out or just shoot you?” Never wanting to repeat that experience, I found Emily and have faithfully been going to see her for years now.

So, at 4:18 p.m. today, when the overwhelming urge to cut my hair struck, I called, confident that I would shortly have a new hairdo. But, Emily had no appointments. Until next month. Late, late next month. WHEN DID SHE GET FREAKING POPULAR?????????? Seriously, Emily is no celebrity stylist. Granted, she knows her way around the scissors, but no appointments for a month? I could not, under any circumstances, wait a month. Not an option. And with a waiting list 38 people long, I did not think I could track them all down and shave them bald before the end of the month, either. Sensing the hysteria edging my voice, the appointment lady told me who had cancellations today. I went with Annie. After all, her name ended in an “ie” sound and so did Emily’s. And both names started with vowels. I took that as a sign. Looking back I know that Annie also has “an” in it, and that’s also found in the words “anti-Christ of hair.” This would also be a sign. A bigger one. Flashing neon.

What I don’t understand is what part of “still able to pull up” and “no product” are hard to remember? Because clearly, Annie brain drained those key points right after I told her. I had no idea what was going on until the clippers came out. Without my glasses or contacts, I can’t see my hand unless it is poking my eye. So, generally during a haircut, I sit in trusting ignorance until it is time to put my glasses back on. Not a problem with Emily. But when the evil Annie turned on the clippers and I could hear their awful “whirl whirl” sound coming towards my head, I knew in my gut that I was going to be a very unhappy once I could see again…

I guess the only real way to sum up my hair cut is: Mom, I am not a lesbian. My haircut is not indicative of my sexuality. It will grow back, but maybe not before Thanksgiving. So please also tell Grandma that I’m not a lesbian.

Time Delay

October 24, 2006

In the mail today, I got a “You Suck” letter for a job I applied for in January, when I had a hunch that the lawyerly things I was doing were going to have to happen at a different lawyerly establishment. (Long live down-sizing) Please note: this is now October. And I applied in January.

While I appreciate the thoughtfulness of the lawyerly organization in letting me know at this late date that I suck, I would have been all right continuing in my ignorance. Really.

There are times I hate fashion…

October 13, 2006

Rumor has it stirrups are back. Several concerned female friends have been sending me links to fashion articles, on-line shopping sites, etc. Some things should not come back as far as fashion is concerned. Like hoop skirts, or bonnets, or aresol hairspray, and most importantly, stirrup pants. By all that is holy, if I even think of buying those things, everybody I know has my permission to ridcule me. If I actually ever wear a pair, then, somebody needs to beat some sense into me. With a scrunchy.

I am going to puke now.

Sick Day

October 13, 2006

For the last two days, I’ve been home sick. It’s a mixed blessing. On one hand, I don’t have to wear a suit and do lawyerly things. On the other hand, Tivo and Robitussin will keep me entertained for only so long. Still, if I get past the fever and aches and the not showering since Wednesday thing, illness is not a bad way to pass the day.

My overriding concern while sick is the location of my next nap. The bed versus couch debate is crucial to a swift and full recovery. I’m not sure why, but I just know it is. Anyway, the bed is great for longer naps like the “fall asleep while reading a trashy romance” nap or the “this is supposedly a nap, but it might last all night” nap. The couch is great for the twenty minute snooze, the sort-of watching TV/sort-of sleeping thing, and those times when walking from the kitchen back to the bedroom is just too long and a mid-point rest nap is required.

Nose blowing is also a serious concern when sick. I don’t want to rub my cute little schnoz raw from too much wiping, but then again, drippage is not attractive. I’m generally too lazy to toss my used tissues into the garbage can immediately, so a pile the size of Mt. Rushmore eventually builds up around my nap zone. My cats love this. Apparently, used Kleenex tastes really good and is fun to jump in or carry around and shred. Oh, and God has seen fit to curse me with a big zit on the end of my nose right now. Try to blow and not make that hurt!

When in good health, I generally support hygiene. But showering goes out the window in the face of a fever. It’s now been two days and I’m still wearing the same pajamas. Granted, I’ve brushed my teeth repeatedly, but the state of my body is starting to reach critical dirtiness. I can see the aura of body odor surrounding me. But am I ready to take a shower? Nope, not yet. I’ve got at least another good day of grossness to build up before I can’t stand myself anymore.

I finally cracked and decided that a trashy romance was the way to go as far as entertainment. When I’m sick, I usually just watch my Sex and the City DVDs, because that was only the best show EVER and Carrie’s shoes make me feel all light and fuzzy inside. But not this time. For some reason, I really wanted to read about the feisty governess who did not cower in the face of the intimidating but good-at-heart viscount. While reading is generally something I love, having to fight Bionic Kitty off the book is too much of an effort in my depleted state. She likes to eat books, but only books that I am holding. Twenty pounds of determined cat sitting on my chest is a little taxing when breathing is challenging to begin with. Let alone trying to keep her jaws of book death away…

It’s time to sleep again. I’ve experienced 20 minutes of wakefulness and that must be balanced by 40 minutes of snoozing…