PREPAREDNESS

Guess who decided to make tuna noodle casserole tonight (mostly for the fact that it is quick and easy and will serve as 4-5 meals)?

And guess who was so prepared for this endeavor, she already went out and got all the groceries needed MONDAY?

Now guess who apparently already packed up her can opener?

And then had to go ask the asshole neighbors upstairs if she could borrow theirs?

And also seems to have packed away her oven mitts?



First one to answer all five questions correctly will receive a special treat (but not my tuna noodle casserole).


Ed. Note: And who also forgot to note what time she put said casserole in the oven.

And who also already packed away all her storage containers.

And the saran wrap.

SIGH.

MOVIN' ON UP

Today at 5 p.m. I got to see my new apartment for the FIRST. TIME. EVER. After waiting an ENTIRE. FREAKING. MONTH.

My coworker called me "trusting." I prefer the term "bat-shit insane."

It's working out for me so far.

Now, granted, for as perfect as this place looked on paper there were "issues". Actually only one issue and that was WHEN FOR THE LOVE OF FREAKING GOD AM I GOING TO GET TO MOVE INTO THIS DAMN PLACE ALREADY? Because, hi! New landlord? I know you were attempting to cater to me and attempting to make me happy and not, in fact, attempting to drive me the above mentioned "bat-shit insane," but really? All you managed to do was frustrate and infuriate me. Next time, I advise you to say "due to X, Y, and Z, I cannot guarantee your move-in date until March 1." And THEN, if plans change, you can SURPRISE me! And then I shall be wooed by your competence and people skills instead of forcing a smile during our often but brief interactions just to scream filthy obscenities at the phone the instant I hang up.

By the way, that last time... I was out of line. I mean truely. No one deserves to be called that even if it was behind your back. Also, my regards to your mother, whoever she may be.

But now, finally, I've seen the place. And now, finally, there is a set date for signing the paperwork. And now, finally, I'm moving in on March 1.

And then, FINALLY, I am getting my dog.

CUTE DOES NOT A LOVER MAKE... BUT IT COULD

Oh good god did I do something stupid at work today.

I walked into the copy room as is my wont and was startled to find a rather attractive man I didn't recognize standing there. I glanced around him to where my print should have been and he told me he was almost done.

I blushed (because I'm cool), smiled awkwardly, and booked it out of there to go inquire who the hell he was and why I hadn't been informed of his presents sooner.

My co-worker was covering phones and I reached her desk in time to glance back and stare as he walked out of the copy room, looking me full in my entirely non-smiling face.

Because I'm a charmer and know how to make the men swoon.

He slipped by and out the door, smilely shyly to my co-worker in silent thanks (she was on the phone). I managed to wait until the door had closed before wheeling on her and making the first stupid mistake I made that day.

I asked who he was.

"Oh, I know!" she gushed. "Isn't he a cutie?!"

That's when I did a second stupid thing.

I agreed.

"So who is he?"

"He's one of the police officers."

Oh.

"You know, I didn't see a wedding ring."

Oh no.

"I have a few contacts in the police department. I could find out for you if he's dating anyone."

Oh god no. "Um... that's alright. I'm sure if anything is meant to happen it will."

"I don't know," she teased. "He seems a little shy. He might need a push."

Shit. Shit. Shit. "Promise me you will do NOTHING about this."

She giggled.

F*ck.

"I promise," she sang averting her eyes and smiling to herself. "You should see how red your face is right now."

* * *

Now, it will probably come as a surprise to you, dear reader(s), that I? Am not smooth. Oh, not at all, because when I see a guy I find attractive, I don't smile and flirt and show anything that could even resemble interest. No, no. God forbid I do anything that might help my cause. I'd rather glower. And make the object of my desire think I hate them. With every fiber of my being.

So I began thinking as I spent 2.5 hours stuck in snowy traffic (because Ohio drivers SUCK ASS), what would be so wrong with her finding out a little background for me? What is it really going to hurt if it somehow gets back to him that a woman he's never met thinks he's cute and would like to play with his... gun?

Other than maybe the stalking ramifications.

BUT! If it does work out and she doesn't completely humiliate me and the stars and moons align... It could certainly be considered safe sex.

(Hah! Get it?! Because he's a cop? Heh... No? I'm sorry.)

BUILD ME SOMETHING

I'm impatient. And I have ideas. Ideas about what I want to do with my new apartment (should I ever get in it) and ever since grandma's more than generous donation to the cause, I actually have the money to back a lot of these ideas up.

One such idea, silly me, is a dresser. Because I'm tired of storing my unmentionables in a suitcase. Sooo last night I sent ALL night looking up dressers. And I'm here to tell you that dressers? They're expensive.

Ass expensive.

Now, I'm not saying that I would whore myself out for a finely crafted piece of walnut furniture with sleek, modern lines, finely polished nickel hardware, and stained a rich, deep espresso brown, but Norm Abram is starting to look damn sexy.

Meow.

YOU REALLY ARE. I WOULDN'T LIE TO YOU ABOUT SUCH THINGS.

"So are you really going to be spending most of your free time at my place once I move up here?"

"Yeah."

"Well, how many nights a week are we talking about here?"

"That depends. Are you going to have cable?"

"Yes."

"Are you going to have DVR?"

"No."

"What?! But it's only $14 a month!"

"Well, if you really want it, you can pay for it."

"... But it's $14 a month!"

"You're pathetic. You know that, right?"

BFFs 4EVA

The following email has been provided for your benefit and is in its entirety. No part of this email has been altered or removed (therefore is ENTIRELY in context.) No, I'm not kidding.

Below is a link for one of the DIY guides on my favorite website.

How to make your own burlesque pasties.

I'm sending it to you because they use the term "naughty bits" and it made me think of you.

How are things going?

dan

M.O.M.

Today my mother, sister, and I embarked on what was to be a monumental shopping trip.

We shopped from 12:30 until 9 p.m. We visited three separate Targets, all in the hopes of attaining some throw pillows, a dust ruffle, and some shams.

It was GLORIOUS.

And I've found out something very awesome. I spent... not very much money today (comparatively) and I got all this shit:

• A second cityscape painting to go with the one I got for Christmas.


• A tray to put on the ottoman I plan on getting later.


• A duvet.


• Pillow cases.


• A blue throw pillow for my bed.


• Lunch.


• Two blue throw pillows for the Patriot.


• A soap dish, tumbler and tissue box for the bathroom.


• New matching rings for the shower curtain.


• 400 thread count sheets.


• A brown and a kick-ass blue throw pillow to also go on my bed.


• Two brown throw pillows to go on the Patriot... which were promptly returned after I found two OTHER brown throw pillows I liked even better at the very next store.


• Dr. Scholl's shoe inserts.


• A blue throw pillow to match the original one we bought to go on my bed.


• Shams.


• A second duvet. (Which means the first one is getting returned at a later date.)


• A bed skirt.

You might be thinking how lucky I am to have gotten so very much for so very little. I would like to point out that these deep, deep discounts could be yours if you are the lucky holder of a M.O.M. card.

Mine just so happens to be platinum.

I THINK WE CAN ALL GUESS WHAT THE ROOT CAUSE MIGHT BE

Apparently I will take a personal snow day from work if there are two inches of snow on the ground topped with a thick crust of freezing rain (because God forbid we close the office for a Level 2 Snow Emergency), but will brave the elements, come hell or high water, if I deem it necessary to make a grocery run for chocolate.

Behold! My priorities!


Ed. Note: I didn't just buy chocolate. I also bought eggs with which to make breakfast for dinner. Because that's how I roll.

STABBING PANGS OF DISPLEASURE

The painter can't make it in this week.

I'm not moving until March 1.

I'm pissed.

R.I.P. CHAD

This morning I had the great fortune to walk into a most monumental clusterf*ck at work that did not end until I clocked out.

BUT! We shan't speak of that any more, what with news like this:

My beloved blue sofa has been discontinued.

R.I.P. Chad Sofa


7/2007 - 1/2008

I have found a second love.

Now, now. I know what you're thinking and it's true. I haven't had the proper time to grieve! It's too soon to move on! Are my affections really so fickle? And the answer is no. Not really. I still love Chad Sofa and regret that he wasn't able to become a permanent part of my life, but, the harsh, cold truth is I was in desperate need of a couch and the Patriot (which I am lacking a photo of) was willing to take on the challenge.

True, he's not as charismatic as Chad was, nor does he possess the same style or charm but he is safe. (And beige.) And safety and stability (and beige) can be good in a girl's life. Sure, we all want the bad boy, the wild child, the guy who refuses to conform to what society dictates.

Alas, sweet Chad. It wasn't meant to be.

We're picking up the Patriot on Saturday in three weeks. Then we're promptly getting him some blue throw pillows. And maybe a cozy brown ottoman.

BUT IF IT DISGUSTS YOU THAT MUCH...

Thank you.

No. No, really. Thank you.

Because, you see, I didn't realize that the tiniest sliver of my flesh was showing after I sat down because my chair? It pushed up the back of my shirt.

I just didn't notice.

But you, ever the observant one, decided that it couldn't possibly be that simple. No. Rather you felt the urge, were maybe even compelled, to tell me that I needed to go shopping so I could BUY. SOMETHING. THAT. FIT.

And now you may be surprised to find that I have the urge, or rather am compelled, to tell you to f*ck off.

LA INK

I want to do something that, while not rash, will probably annoy my parents and will certainly write me out of the will should my grandparents ever catch wind of it.

I want to get a tattoo.

Now, this little inkling isn't new. I've actually wanted one since I was 18 and at that point I decided I would force myself to wait five years and if, after the end of that time, I still wanted one, I would... give it more thought?

Obviously, the allotted amount of time has expired (see: current age - 18 = more than five). Obviously, I still want one (see: because I said I did up in the second paragraph). Obviously, I've had the time to give it more thought (see: my previous example of finite mathmatics). So, given those factors, wouldn't you expect my ass to be bedazzled with glittery butterflies and colorful flowers?

But therein lies (one of/the biggest) problem(s). I don't know what I would get. So last night, as a form of research and, more likely, a form of insomnia, I watched LA Ink, which did nothing to solve my problem, but rather magnified the yearning deep down in my bitter, black soul.

I have a fair grasp about why this urge has suddenly started again in such force and have come to realize there are currently several factors working against me.

1. The second most important reason I haven't yet permanently affixed some lucky guys name to my ass is because of the cost of getting a tattoo. But not only am I working now, I'm also moving soon and, as a result, I've been prepping myself to actually SPEND money, something that doesn't always happen with the utmost frequency. And now, without an immediate outlet, I'm stuck with it burning (oh god, the BURNING) a hole in my pocket.


2. I feel as though I need a little jump start to being a bit more reckless daring in my life because this boredom thing isn't cutting it. Particularly when my goals and dreams in life dictate I grow a f*cking pair and take a risk already.


3. I've always said I would get a tattoo if something happened in my life that I wanted to commemorate, and taking that risk... THAT might be something pretty cool to commemorate.


4. I watched LA Ink last night.

I'm not sure if this feeling will result in a picture of Roy splayed across my bicep or just fade away into the ether, but either way, I'd rather you not tell my parents. (Hi DAD!)

CONTRIBUTIONS WELCOME

Tonight I spent the majority of my evening packing up the things in my apartment that I really don't need, all in preparation for my now February 15 move because my mother is demanding and just COULD NOT wait until March 1 no matter what excuse I gave her to the contrary.

However, I am just as excited and it really was no effort what-so-ever to convince me.

In anticipation of this much awaited event, and in lue of my future monetary goals, a coworker took it upon herself this weekend to get me an early housewarming gift. It's a pottery jar. With "harley fund" painted across the side.

It is really stinking cute.

It is currently occupying the corner of my desk with all 23 pennies I could find in my desk. Plus the 7 nickles I coerced out of a coworker by decorating beneath the "harley fund" with a sticky note that says "contributions welcome".

This applies to you as well.

Get on it.

* * *

I've come to the conclusion that I really don't have that much stuff because I could easily pack everything I own and move it all in a single day. Probably even a half a day if I were really motivated. By myself.

This is not to disuade those of you I've bribed with beer out of helping me. Oh no. Because I still need your trucks and muscles, you buff, studly boys, you.

My, my you're looking svelt today.

Have you done something with your hair?

I love you.

TRUTH BE TOLD

Now, truth be told, I may have been rooting for the New York Giants to win the Super Bowl last night.

And, truth be told, I may have only been rooting for the New York Giants because Tiff is such a Pat's fan.

So, truth be told, I never EVER thought they had a chance in hell of winning.