Marshmallow Scars

I promise I will post at least once a week. I know that’s not a lot, but it’s a start.

This will be short because I frakked up my hand at work (in a totally non-work related occurrence), and typing is slow and tedious.

First, CONGRATULATIONS TO JEFF AND DEB! Your bebeh is adorable.

Second, I went to DC for the Inauguration and didn’t actually make it to the Swearing In ceremony – the local DC news said all of the security checkpoints were overrun before I even left my friend’s apartment. Oh well! I did make it to the concert at the Lincoln Memorial the previous Sunday, and it really says a lot about me that I found that to be the more important event, doesn’t it?

a few photos taken at the concert – they’re not beautiful or interesting, but I wrote stuff on the flickr pages about the event which I will not reproduce here on account of The Lazy and the painful hand.

a few pics from the National Zoo

Here’s one from the zoo:

See you in 7 days or less!

The US Men’s swim team was AMAZING! wooo Michael Phelps! wooooo Jason Lezak! That was some amazing competition.

Also, Dara Torres is, in my mind, the best swimmer ever. She is so awesome, I can’t even stand it. When she held up the semi-final heat so one of the other swimmers could go change a ripped suit, that cemented her status in my mind. She’s amazing.

My back went to shit last night, and I ended up eventually working up the fortitude to drive out to my mom and dad’s so I could get some help feeding myself and have someone rub my back and try to crack it. I can move now, quite a bit more than I was able last night. My neck is still fracked up a bit, along with my right shoulder, but! Last night I had to roll off the couch onto the floor on all fours and work my way up to standing over the course of a few minutes. Now it hurts a bit, but I can just stand up in a process of about ten seconds. Before, I couldn’t sit up because I couldn’t lift my head without putting my hands behind my head and pulling it forward. Now i can lift my head just using my neck muscles. BIG DIFFERENCE. (a big difference badly explained. sorry. I’m tired, sore, and still distracted by the olympics, even though the broadcast is over.)

Since I’m already discombobulated (i love that word), I guess it wouldn’t hurt to go take some vicodin and try to get some sleep. Monday morning is going to come too quickly.

I finally met my best friend’s wife today, after about six years or so. I’ve talked to her on the phone a couple of times, but it’s been a running joke in their household that J made me up and I really didn’t exist. But now there’s proof that I actually do exist. heh

It was a long-ass drive to the BBQ, and it ended up being a long-ass drive back, too. The directions Yahoo Maps gave me to get to J’s mom’s house were sucky. Once I got there and knew where I was, I was able to get back a quicker way. Kinda. If it weren’t for the long long wait for construction on 37, and the jackass that wouldn’t let us go for an additional ten minutes even though all the cars from the other direction had already passed, I would have made kickass time for the way home. Oh, well. I got home safely, so that’s all that matters, I guess. I wish I’d taken tomorrow off work, so I wouldn’t have had to drive and could have had some beer! ;-)

I think just about any blog entry I write or every story I tell, hell even any sentence I speak or type, I could end it with “and wackiness ensued”. Not only does it make everything sound more fun, it’s usually the truth.

This morning I actually had makeup/foundation (it was packed away where I couldn’t find it a couple of mornings ago – had to go to work without any), but right now it doesn’t look like I put any of it on this morning anyway. Such is my life.

However, that is not the “highlight” of my morning so far.

I have to turn my apartment assessment in today – you know, the move-in check list. So, while I was getting ready in the bathroom (right next to the kitchen), I was testing the burners on the stove since I haven’t done that yet. It’s a wee stove, with one big burner and three little ones. The big one worked fine. Ditto for the two back burners. The front right burner wasn’t heating – turns out the burner wasn’t plugged into the socket. So, I fixed it, turned it on, and went back into the bathroom. And wackiness ensued.

The smoke alarm in the kitchen went off. The hell?! There wasn’t anything on the burner that was burning off – it was just heat going up to the ceiling. The ceilings in the new apartment are incredibly high. I have no brooms or yard sticks or mops or anything. Luckily, I bought one of those little Bissell floor brooms that’s basically a dust buster with a detachable handle. I ordered it from Amazon.com and it came earlier this week out at mom and dad’s. I brought it back to the apartment with me last night. It was all nice and neat in its box. “Was” being the operative word.

The box is a shambles, but that handle, and some creative jumping, allowed me to hit the button on the smoke alarm to get it to stop beeping. This was very important as the people for the business downstairs had already arrived for the day, and I did not want them calling the fire department because how awesome would it have been for firemen to come running upstairs into my apartment to see me in jeans and bra, jumping up and down trying to reach the damn smoke detector with a vacuum handle? Oh yeah, and there’s no fire, I just had the burner on?

Well, okay, if they were hot, it would be a little awesome while still being almost completely mortifying, but, um, the firemen here aren’t attractive. And my apartment is a mess with stuff laying everywhere and still no proper furniture. So.

Crisis averted.

I think this story properly demonstrates what I claimed the other night about my life being a romantic comedy without the romance. And you probably thought I was kidding about the pratfall-y mishaps, but I WAS NOT. It also shows exactly why I am not a morning person.

Cable is being installed at some point tomorrow morning. I am not going to know what to do with cable tv. (Yes I know, Ron. I’ll watch it. Shuddup.) It’s been years.

A good friend got to meet Gillian Anderson last week. I met her (the friend, not GA) because we were both gaga crazy fans of The X-Files back in the day. I am so happy for her.

I haven’t ever met a big celebrity. I don’t think so, anyway. (I tend to blank on these type of things until people remind me.) I did participate in Dean Haglund’s comedy act when I lived in LA – Dean being one of The Lone Gunmen, who were supporting characters on The X-Files. Other than that, I’ve lived my life well outside major and minor celebrity brushes, which is probably for the best. If I ever met somebody famous that I admired (whether being famous qualifies the person as a celebrity or not, I don’t know – they may be well known and not be trumped about on Entertainment Tonight every night. a discussion for another time, I think), I would be a blithering idiot. I mean, I blather on like a socially retarded person anyway, but I’m sure it would be magnified.

People I’m not all that interested in, it’s not a problem. I didn’t stare when my friend A and I shared an elevator with Fabio, even though I really, really wanted to because it was just a few months after he’d had that run in with the bird on the roller coaster over in Europe and how can you not want to look? But we didn’t. (He wears really expensive & nice-smelling cologne, FYI.)

OH! I do remember that I served Antonio Fargas, AKA Huggy Bear, when I was a bartending in Ann Arbor (NA beer, in case you’re wondering). That was pretty cool. And I didn’t meet Gerald Ford myself, but I did make the drinks for his table in the restaurant (they, of course, all drank non-alcoholic beverages, too. He had club soda with lime), then Helen Thomas came into the bar afterward and was lovely and had a brandy alexander and tipped really well.

I’m watching the Bill Clinton interviews on Nightline right now, so I’m a bit more distracted than usual. Sorry. I don’t even remember what I was planning to write, aside from the beginning part of being so happy for my friend, R.

It will be nice when I can get my bed and other assorted furniture up to my apartment. I’m hoping for this weekend. Until then, it’s the uncomfortable couch at mom’s or the air mattress.

Oh! I know what I wanted to say! The most nervous I have ever been to meet anyone in my entire life was when I was in Hawaii in December of 2006. A bunch of us went to see U2 play Aloha Stadium, and a few of us made an entire vacation of it, not just concentrating on the concert. Pearl Harbor Day fell on the Thursday of the week I was there. A bit earlier in the week, I was walking around with a friend who also stayed the week, and there at a sidewalk cafe was a Pearl Harbor survivor with his family. I usually hate interrupting people, but I couldn’t help myself in this case. I went up and asked if I could shake his hand and told him Thank You. I felt like I’d met a rock star, except it was better than meeting a rock star. Then some friends and I went to visit the USS Arizona Memorial on December 8, and a few Survivors were on the tour with us.

To call the experience humbling is inadequate.

I’m moved. Kinda.

I moved some stuff. I have no furniture, except for the stuff the landlords left in the apartment (and it is lovely, lovely stuff. a few antiques: side tables, a desk, a rocking chair, and a GORGEOUS buffet and mirror). I have to wait until next weekend to have access to a truck to move stuff (and try to beg somebody to help me carry all the heavy shit up a rather tall flight of stairs), so no bed, entertainment center, couch, or recliner for me in the meantime. I have bathroom stuff, dvds, tv, dvd player, computer (with pirated wireless until I can get the cable & internet installed), more dvds (there are…too many of them), dishes, microwave, stereo components and speakers (that I haven’t even used in 3 years, so yay! music that doesn’t come from my computer!), a bunch of clothes, a cooler with some limeaide & water (the place doesn’t come with a fridge & I haven’t bought one yet), and a lovely air mattress.

Listed out like that, it doesn’t seem like a lot, but that’s a lot of stuff to carry upstairs by yourself.

The plan was to come here and do some cleaning tonight – the place is far from a sty, and it is very much not the worst place I’ve ever lived, but I like to make sure that the bathroom and kitchen especially are nice and clean and disinfected. However, when I arrived, it was approximately 932° in the apartment, so once I had made seven round trips up and down the stairs, I was ready to sit down for a minute. (okay, maybe that’s a little bit of an exaggeration. It may have been only in the high 90s in here.) Opened the windows and parked, and here I am. I got here after 9PM, though, so getting everything unloaded took a bit, and it’s late enough that I deserve to chat on the phone with friends and put everything off until tomorrow morning, right?

I’m damn lucky there’s not time table on getting my stuff moved here. I can take my time going through stuff at mom and dad’s and bring it over at my leisure. Of course knowing me, my leisure will end up having me still bringing stuff at this time next year.

It’s karaoke time at the bar on the corner. The “best” so far was someone failing spectacularly at Get Low by L’il Jon. I think it’s time to pop in Blade and drown out the drunks. Or one of the Terminator movies. Because lord knows I can’t take this horrible rendition of Breathe by Faith Hill one moment longer.

I’m definitely going with The Terminator. Arnold’s got a nice ass. I can block The Governator out of my brain and still enjoy this movie. And woo woo Michael Biehn! (Remember the whole “Oh my god, is that Bryan Adams?” rumor? Probably not. But everybody thought one of the punk dudes at the beginning was played by Canadian then-superrockstar Bryan Adams. I knew it wasn’t him because I had a major crush on Bryan, and the guy in the movie was NOT cute enough for ten year old me!) (Yes, I saw The Terminator when I was ten. And many other age inappropriate movies before and afterward.)

P.S. My Tina Turner legs can start appearing any time now.

I’m feeling rather crappy because of an onslaught of allergy horribleness. (either that, or I caught a rather brutal summer cold) It went away for yesterday afternoon, then returned in time for the concert, so I was a bit out of it while they were rocking the Soaring Eagle auditorium.

I spoiled my niece with candy, bracelets from the craft fair, and a ride on the merry go round today at the Baby Food Festival. Her mom spoiled her the rest of the way with a couple of games and other goodies. I was lucky to feel a bit better for the afternoon so I could spend time with them. Or maybe spending time with them made me feel better. I don’t know.

I need lots and lots of sleep. I think I’ll get a leg up on that right now.

I’m going to try to post to this particular blog more often, instead of just always posting to the other one I have been using. woo. I know all two of you are excited.

I was going to say that yesterday was total crap, but that’s not true. Yesterday morning was pretty normal, good or bad, however you want to take that. Yesterday afternoon was good. I saw my great aunt whom I haven’t actually seen in years, and it was a good afternoon of dinner at a great chinese buffet and time spent with mom, grandma, and said great aunt (who will be 90 on Sunday but doesn’t look at day over 72).

It was just the evening and night that went to [s][h][i][t], but we can’t blame the entire day for my family’s shortcomings, can we? No, we can’t.

My back aches like hell, the back of my left hand has a lovely large bruise & rather sore spot to go along with it, and I have a slight case of hamburger finger in one spot, but I’ve got almost everything out of the house I was renting. I just have to go grab the stuff out of one cupboard in the bathroom, take down the shower curtain, empty the fridge (there’s juice, chocolate, salsa and cheese in it – it won’t be too difficult), and vacuum the place. Not at all a problem.

It’s amazing how self-reliant you feel after you’ve moved yourself (except for the couch and recliner, which my oldest sister and bro-in-law helped with). It doesn’t make you any less angry, but you feel more accomplished.

Or something. I’m trying to find something positive from the whole mess.

Lesson learned: Who can I rely on? Me, me, and…me.
(I have had to do this before, so that is not just a temporary grumbling.)

I got a grand total of three hours of sleep, and I’m still extremely anti-social today as a result of last night, but I get to listen to my headphones and everyone will ignore me most of the day. I just hope I don’t do a header into my keyboard. That would be bad. BAD! (This is so much funnier if you hear it in Kelly Ripa’s voice from the “Only Bangkok”/”What happens in Thailand stays in Thailand” commercial skits when Ben Affleck hosted Saturday Night Live the second time. Classic!) You’d think the screaming pain between my shoulder blades would keep me awake and alert, but then you’d be thinking wrong.

I haven’t taken any pictures since I’ve been staying at my sister’s. I’ve been there six nights, and nothing. I haven’t even felt like taking my camera out of my bag. It’s not been difficult or anything, really – the chores are a lot easier this time. I just haven’t felt like taking any pictures. It’s like writers block, and it sucks.

In the meantime, I have started down the slippery slope of condiment kleptomania. A few little salts and peppers here, a couple sugar packets there. I’m building up a store for the next care packages. I hope nobody minds that they’ve got the McDonald’s logo all over them. Maybe I should include a disclaimer that the McDonald’s corporation does not officially endorse any maniacal rantings contained within the same package?

In the meantime, please enjoy three pictures from housesittings past:

(you can click through to see larger files, if you’d like)