Kal-e-forn-ya

DAY ONE

Those of you who know me, know how organized and structured I like things to be. Although I like to convince myself that I'm somewhat spontaneous, a trip across the country for a limited amount of time cannot be left up to chance. So, it will come to no surprise to you readers that not only did I have a commercial realtor helping me find space for the daycare, but I also had a property realtor who was to help me find a rental space to live in. Well, in order to bring you to last weeks shananagins in LA, I have to go back to the week before at the beach house, which would be one week before I was to leave for LA. This is when I got the devastating email from my property realtor that said she was not going to work with me. And it didn't really have anything to do with something that I did, but something that someone said at my commercial Realtors location. Apparently this guy, who the property lady had actually recommended that I use, got this giant bug up his ass when I told him that I had found another guy IN HIS OFFICE NO LESS that I was starting to use. Normally I don't have a problem with the two heads are better than one scenario, but since they were working in the same office, for essentially the same company, I wanted to be open and honest about my current position. Well, this did not sit well with him and not only did he lecture me, but he went on to lecture my property realtor about pure nonsense. And not that blame her, but she then, instead of dealing with the monster head on, ran in the opposite direction. It was absolutely absurd. So, there I was a week before my trip, with the main objective to find a place to live, and no one to show me around. I'm not normally an ass kisser either, but I pulled out some of my best material to get this lady back. After a few emails back and forth and a few short conversations on the phone, we were back in business. I just had to keep my worlds separate, which I had no problem doing in the first place.

The main thing I learned upon my initial research into moving to California is that the places you look at and might be interested in one day, are probably not going to be around the next. So, in order to start looking, you should only plan your strategy the week of your search. Unfortunately this meant looking on Craigslist, and the local Long Beach paper, every day and contacting those places that I wanted to look at immediately to set up appointments for Thursday. Meanwhile, ole Christy (property realtor) ran a report of houses that were open in the area and only told me the day before I was leaving that I needed to call all of the houses that I wanted to look at and set up appointments with them between noon and two, because that's when she scheduled the time with me. It was at this exact moment when I started to wonder why in the world this woman was doing anything for me, or what exactly she was doing. So, armed with a three page report, I began my calling. In my fruitless efforts I only set up two meetings of the five houses I wanted to look at. Christy had said she would handle the rest, but to meet her at her work at noon that day. Okay, no problem. On my own, I had managed to track down five other places I wanted to see as well so it was going to be jammed packed day. Not to mention that I HAD to be out of the area by 4 pm at the latest or I was going to sit on the 405 for the rest of the night trying to get to my brothers place. So, Craig and I were up and at 'em around 9 am Thursday morning. Since he's live in California his entire life, he was extremely helpful with this day. He suggested that not only do we look at places that I've printed out, but it's also a good idea to drive up and down each of the streets to see if there were other places that we might be able to take a look at. For this trip, he was the brains of the operation. But our mission was dual purposed. You see, his property got transferred so he was moving to the area as well. Coincidence? You can decide for yourself. Well, we began our journey and were designated to each side of the street to look for signs. Up and down, up and down, up and down we went. From the ocean to Boardwalk and back again. Stopping every now and then to get out of the car and call a sign. We walked into places, looked around for a second and walked out. His heart was just not in it. We went to my first set appointment in a place that from the outside had great potential. The building was right on the water, there was secured parking underneath, and the grocery store was right next door. It was all looking wonderful until the guy showing us the place took us to the wrong side of the building. My view was of the grocery store and the local bums that were hanging out. Craig was not a fan of me living here and thought that I would be the one protecting Scout and not the other way around. So, out we went and headed to meet Christy. At this point I wasn't feeling defeated, only excited about what she might have in store for us. So we sit down, go over our game plan and out we go. The first place was AMAZINGLY BEAUTIFUL. We walk into a huge open area with a sun room off to the side. A faux fireplace and Oh My Goodness what is this?!?!?!? A HUGE WALK-IN CLOSET!!!! This is unheard of in California! I felt similar to the way that I've been feeling at the car dealership's lately. Showing me the upscale version of the car before you tear me down to what I can actually afford. Only, I can afford this, but the sign out front says, ABSOLUTELY NO PETS. There are a few things I know in life, but absolutes are pretty clearly defined. Christy was a little thrown back, but Craig and I look at each other in that all knowing way and know this place might be too good to be true. So, Christy tells me that she's going to call the owner on the way to the next location and see if there is something we can work out. Sounds like my kind of plan. Second place, a little ways down the road, but on a main street. Now, I picked this from the pictures so I can't totally blame her here, but this will be the first, of many times I utter the words WTF and not shortened. We walk into signs that read STEP UP and STEP DOWN. Immediately I'm thinking, no. I mean, you walk in the front door and go left to "STEP DOWN" into a bedroom? or office? or law practice? Then "STEP UP" to the remainder of the house. Yeah, let's just move on, and so we did. The next house was set up by yours truly and I was REALLY excited about seeing it. It was so cute from the pictures, even cuter from the outside and when I walked in I thought, YES! This is it. I walked into the mecca of all kitchens and knew this was the one I would put an offer down on. But then good ole Christy says, "so you're okay with her dog here?" To which the lady replied, "oh no, we aren't allowing pets in here at all". WTF!!! So, for those of you keeping track at home, of the 5 places I picked to look at, and the 3 we've looked at so far, the two I like don't allow dogs. The FIRST requirement I ever gave this lady and she couldn't get this straight. I can only imagine what else she has in store. With my head held low we leave my dream house and follow her to our final destination of the day. With a quick, random, stop at Carl's Jr, where Craig and I are convinced she dropped a deuce because she never came out with a burger or a drink or anything, but was gone for a awfully long time. We literally drive for another 30 minutes to go look at this last house. Yet another one of my requirements was to stay in a particular area in which we are no where near. Now, I'm pissed, frustrated, and starving. Craig tells me to just tell her we're leaving and not interested in even looking in, but contrary to some people's opinion of me, I am a nice person, so I look inside. I know by walking in the front door I don't like this place. It gives off this creepy vibe and terrible old person smell. But, against everything telling me not too, I take a look in the backyard. Should have listened to my instinct. I know LA is a movie town, but this backyard should be in a scary movie. In the daytime I turned back around and headed back when I saw not one, but two rusting old ambulances. Really?!?!? Two? This is just weird. So, I head back inside, tell Christy it's definitely time to go when OUT OF NO WHERE the creepy lady who owns the place sneaks up on us. I seriously thought she came out of the wall, I never heard her come in. I backed out of the place and made a run for it to the car where Craig was waiting. He never even got out. Ohhhh Clyde to my Bonnie, you gotta love the person driving the getaway car. So, completely deflated, we head back 30 min to grab a quick bite before we see the final two houses that I set up appointments for. Those two were seriously anti-climatic so I'll move right to what you're waiting for anyway...

Sooooooooooooooooo, after about an hour and a half drive which should only take 45 min on a normal day, I pull up to my brothers house. Where I am greeted by my brother and his room mate holding a rope, containing a goat! Yes, that's right, I have the privilege and honor to meet Nibbler. And it was just how you all would think. Only, I've got to say, this goat is probably one of the cutest things I've ever seen. But, all it does is Bahhhhh. I see my nephew, Budah in the distance, just sitting in the driveway, looking miserable. Wondering when someone is going to come and save him from his misery. I felt this poor puppies pain. I walk in the front door only to see a pile of hay in the middle of the floor. Two things come to mind when you see hay on some one's floor? Am I staying in a barn, I sure hope they have enough blankets, and WTF! I mean, really? Hay? On the floor? I guess you have a goat and it prevents them from eating, say your couch, but keep the damn thing outside. Oh, that's right, you can't, because I'm fairly certain it's illegal to have a goat in LA. So, we walk into Phillip's bedroom where I have to get back onto the computer to extend my housing search. As I'm sitting at the desk, Nibbler jets into the room, grabs the first wad of paper that she sees and jets right back at. By the seconds that it takes my brother to get out of his bed and chase the goat to see what she's eaten, it's already gone and all she's doing is Bahhing at him. I know how irritating it is to him, but all I can do is laugh. It's just one of those sounds that you don't hear every day and it really sounds like she's talking back at him. It's hilarious. I'm really mad at myself for not taking a video of it. But, because she blew it, we now have to close the door at all times. So, we go out, go to his show and come home. I have to blow past that part because I MUST get back to the goat and when we roll into the house at 1:30 in the morning. Just like a barking dog, we are greeted with a "friendly" bahhhhhhhhhh. Oh, and before I forget, it's not your normal run of the mill bahhh, no this one is with her head cocked and she's looking at you out of the corner of her eyes type of thing. It's almost evil. So, we head back to the bedroom armed with our food. She continues to bahhh and I have to head out to the kitchen to put my drink back. Brother's last words, careful where you step. Noted, but that's not what made me laugh. What made me laugh was that as I'm making my way into the kitchen, the bahhhh makes me look to find the goat, on top of the mantle. It was unreal. It was like she was trying to climb that mountain and just couldn't make it, so she settled for the mantle. Classic!!! An almost 30 year old man, who lives with a goat that climbs mantles. Needless to say, my brother and I had a sleep over, something we haven't done since we were kids, all because he didn't want to sleep with the goat. SO AMAZING!!!

And that was just day one....

127 days...and counting

Okay, okay, I get it. It's been a while since I've written anything on here, but you have to believe me when I say this, I have been beyond busy these days. And to take the free time I do have and involve things like sitting down in front of a computer and nailing out a blog and not get bored would be next to impossible. So, I'm going to do my best to update you as to what I've been doing these past days to bring you into my world, just a little bit. Allow me to start two weeks ago when my dad and I headed down to the beach house for what I thought would be a mildly relaxing trip before heading to California for my real stressful adventure. Our objective was to paint the inside of the house, power wash the outside, replace what needed replacing and call in the repair team to do the rest. So, loaded up with supplies and the puppy we started our journey. A few things to note. 1. I HATE driving during road trips unless my passenger is staying awake and keeping me company. My dad had a conference call for about an hour of the trip so I was forced to stay silent and focus all my energies on the road. I couldn't even play travel games. Lame. 2. I have the bladder of a peanut. I usually know my boundaries and try to steer clear of liquids to limit stops in trips. However, this particular day I was really thirsty and didn't think that the affects of the water would take charge so quickly. BOY was I wrong. Thankfully the call was over and it was nearing lunch time so a stop was in need anyway. I just didn't think I would have to pee so badly. It was like that pee urge you get after you've been drinking and you're convinced that in a moments notice you are literally going to pee your pants. Only, I was sober, and driving. I would have probably felt better had I been drunk. So, with Burger King in hand, pee out of system, a quick water break for Scout, we're on our way once again. The rest of the road trip was pretty uneventful so I'll get right to it. Cue the next morning when I was told to wake up "before 10 am, please so that you can start painting". A little known fact, when you don't have to actually get up at a certain time to do something, you usually don't. However, "sleep" wasn't really in Scout's vocabulary the whole night before. She does this really weird thing where when she is in a new place, it takes her about a day to acclimate to the new surroundings. Which usually means that she is up most of the night whining at the door, leading me to believe that she has to go out because she hasn't actually gone to the bathroom the entire time she's been there. So, I have to then get out of bed and walk her around outside for a little while to find a spot she might feel comfortable "going potty" in. This, of course, doesn't happen until the next afternoon. But, just like most everything I do in my life, it's insane and I keep thinking that one time she's going to snap out it and just be a real dog. I guess we work well together that way. So, with very little sleep, I'm up and about by 8:30 and painting by 9:30. I'm telling you guys, if this whole dog daycare thing doesn't work out for me, I think I have future in painting the interior of houses. I start upstairs and with my music blasting, get through that in no time at all. As I'm folding up my paint tarp, I hear the pitter patter of my dad's little feet up and down the stairs. This, of course, is sarcasm. All I hear is stomping all around and a sailor that has moved into my dad's body and spitting out cuss words like he owns them. I honestly have no idea what's going on, and knowing my dad is knowing to stay at least 600 yards away from that nightmare. Especially if he's screaming and cursing. Ever so gently, I make my way down to the second level. Set up my supplies when I hear him on my floor. Not knowing how much longer I can live with the suspense, I ask him what the problem is. Apparently, when you have a house at the beach, one does not require that much water pressure. Let alone enough to power wash a gigantic house. He literally tried every single spigot and all of them were just dribbling out water. Two of them didn't even work. He even went as far as jerry rigging a hose from down stairs and moving it up. Honestly, the guy had one job to do and for the past hour he's been mumbling around the house trying to figure out what to do. Meanwhile, Scout's been following him around like a...well, like a puppy dog. Barking when he's not around and just trying to find him when he's outside. I find it cute. Grumpy Gus finds it annoying. After another 30 minutes of him trying to figure out how to make it work and I'm already almost done painting the entire area that needs it. Then, with just a little more left to go, I run out of paint. I've gotta say, for two hours work, I've done pretty well. And since dad's really done nothing, it's time for a break and load into the family truckster to head 20 minutes up the road to the closest Home Depot. Yes, we live that far removed from any sort of city.

You know what? This is crazy!!! This isn't even that interesting and I've spent that last three hours trying to get something out while doing four other things. My California trip was way more exciting. I'll post about that one next.

Happy Anniversary

Alright, I know that I didn't post a blog all last week, and when you hear the story of why you might take back all those mean and frustrating thoughts you had with me in regards to not supplying you with ample daytime entertainment. So, it was a week ago today. It was a day, just like every other day, or so I thought. I got up, got to go run errands. Found the black flats I've been looking for for months, which were on sale. And since it was such a nice day, decided to head home to take the little one out for a run. It was our running week after all and since the weather has been taking it's sweet time to turn warm, we have to take advantage of every opportunity of warm weather we get. So, I strapped Scout into her harness, loaded up my Pandora and Cardio Trainer and headed out into the beautiful day. Ran our first .1 of a mile down our street. Headed another 499 ft down our main big hill. I've mentioned this beast before during the winter. Turned left and headed the next .2 miles towards the main road. It was about another .2 miles into our .6 mile stretch onto the path where I noticed a man with a wheelbarrow. The first and most important thing that I noticed was that he was coming towards us, but that he was slowly making his way into a hidden driveway. Since we already had cars on our right, the spacing issue was a little tight, but I honestly thought nothing of it. We continued our run and the man was no where in site. Or so I thought. Now, for those of you who have not met Scout, or haven't seen her since she was a wee lass, let me tell you a few things about her that are important to this story before I continue. 1. She is 60 pounds of pure muscle. 2. She's about as fast as lightening and will pull you forever. and most importantly 3. She gets spooked WAY too easily. The reason I explain these particular traits in her is because at this short distance into our run, we were easily going about an 8:30 mile. Which is pretty fast. Apparently, with earphones in, you cannot hear the creepy wheelbarrow man who was in the clearing right above the hill. Scout has absolutely no idea what's going on there, I have no idea what's going on because I'm in the "zone" she literally stops right in front of me, I, in what I can only imagine is pure cartoon fashion, fly over and on her at an alarming rate. On the main road, I am lying flat down on my front side in absolute, pure panic. I have no idea if I just broke my dog or myself. And I don't know if I want to get up because I can only imagine if someone actually saw me do this. Of course I am explaining this in a lighter tone than I felt last week because it took me a week to look back and be able to laugh about it. As I slowly get up, I check to see that Scout is eager and ready to continue our run, while I look down at my hands to notice Alexandria CSI. It looks as if I've murdered someone with the amount of blood that is just gushing out of my body. The worst part is, I know that it's coming out of my left wrist, but because I am in such shock, I have no idea where else it's streaming from. In what I can only imagine is one of the nicest people on the planet, pulls her car around to ask me if I was okay because she saw the whole thing. Holding back buckets of tears I really don't know, but tell her that I only live around the corner so I'll be okay, but thank you. What I should have said was, could you please drive me and my dog up the street because I'm not sure I'm going to make it. In what turned out to be the coldest and longest 5 minute walk of my life I'm still trying to figure out what hurts. I literally cannot stop bleeding from my left wrist and I'm pretty sure that something is broken because I cannot, for the life of me feel my fingers. It could just be because it's cold, but I've never felt anything like this. I finally make it in the door and don't know what to do. I feel like I've regressed back to the age of 7 and only want my mommy to take care of me. Luckily, she was home. We immediately got the peroxide and went to work. I don't think beer has as much foam on the top of it as my hand did. The worst part was, I couldn't feel it and it freaked me out. It wasn't until the second pour when I felt the stinging sensation down to my core. No matter where you were in the world, I have a sneaking suspicion that you heard me scream last Monday. That little effer hurt. So, as we were cleaning up my hands, I felt this terrible pain in my knees and shoulders. Upon inspection, we find out, yup, I got those too. The crazy part is, they were opposite knee and shoulder. Now I really want to know what this fall looked like! Well, as my body started to warm up from the frigidness of outside, the onset of other pain started to set in. I sat down at my computer to do some work on an event I was handling the next day and noticed that I couldn't set my left hand down without pain coursing through my body. I couldn't tell if there was swelling, but I knew that something was definitely wrong. I couldn't touch it and I definitely couldn't move it. I kept thinking, oh no, I've gone 33 years of my life without breaking one bone and now I've gone and broken my wrist falling over my dog. This has to be a joke. But no, the pain just kept getting worse as the day progressed. Upon taking a shower, there was no way I could wash the entire right side of my body because my wrist was just not working. And forget about washing my hair, that part was just not happening. I thought I was actually going to shed tears when I went to put my bra on. If you boys think you have it rough when you can actually see the darn thing, try having your left wrist out of commission and figuring out a way of getting it behind your back without twisting it. I say impossible! Well, out of pure fear, I decide to not go to the doctor yet. Although at the very least I probably should have iced the poor thing down, I wait it out. I knew I had another doctors appointment today and if it wasn't better by today, no use wasted a co-pay, right...(nervous laughter) Well, might put not icing my wrist down as one of the dumbest things I could have not done, because I never slept that night and coincidentally, neither did Scout. Apparently in our fall, I landed on her so hard that she has an abrasion on her left "arm" where the hair has actually ripped out of it and left it bald. She was in so much discomfort that she was up all night licking her wounds. We were a tough pair, that's for sure. So, after a night of no sleep for both of us, I get out of bed the next day, to head into a two day bender of an event. I have no idea how much use I'll be with one arm, but I had to suck it up. With a quick stop by CVS for a wrist splint, I try to get as much help as I can with this thing. Instantly I feel better because this little loosy goosy thing isn't moving all over the place. I still don't have full function of all my fingers, but that's besides the point. I'll take baby steps any chance I can get. That night was another restless one without much sleep, but the next day I tried the little ice trick and it changed my life. Although it was the coldest thing I've ever felt for 20 minutes it did all the good in the world to make myself feel better. So now, a week later, the band aids have finally come off, but the scars are terrible. The wrist splint is no more and I'm finally bruising. Oh, and now I can type, so there's that. We're going to give it another go this afternoon and try running with Scout. I feel like there is no possible way lightening could strike twice, but with my track record, one will never know. Wish me luck!!!

The Intimidator

Do you know the best words that a women in business can hear? Man, you're a bitch! Or, do you know how badly you intimidate people? The answer to both statements/questions is yes. When it comes to business, I do actually know how much of a bad ass I am. If I could transfer that to my personal life, I would honestly be unstoppable. I have worked hard at absolutely everything I have ever done my entire life. On top of that, I've learned, that as a woman, you have to create a presence about you, or you get lost in the shuffle. You have to almost command attention. I've worked with nothing but men my entire adult career life and have had to swim with the big dogs and come out on top. Half of that career was spent managing guys which makes it tougher. So, when my father sits me down to explain the intricacies of a meeting we're going into, and then proceeds to tell me that one of the people we're meeting with, who just happens to be a very good friend of his, tells him how intimidating I can be, the only thing I can do is smile. I've met this guy one time, over lunch, that was with my dad, who was cracking jokes the whole time. And the one thing this guy took from that lunch is that I'm intimidating! Well hell yeah I am, because you might have been an easy target. Or, have you met my dad? You have to put up or get out of the way when dealing with that monster. He's a tough audience. Although my skin might be as tough as nails, once you crack the exterior, the inside is a soft mushy mess. But again, not when it comes to business. You should see and hear the knuckle heads I've dealt with in my day. Not to down play any other persons profession, but the clowns that work in the radio business truly take the cake. Between the egos, and the "personalities", and the looks, I'm telling you there is nothing like it. When they see me walk in, the first thing they usually think is "well, this is going to be easy. I totally have a chance with this chick". And then I open my mouth. I sit there and let them talk, and stroke their egos and then I bring them down a notch. I have probably heard every excuses known to man and have a radio fan club as big as my radio hater club. But, the funny thing is, the reason these people hate me is not because I was mean to them. Nope, it was because I wouldn't stand for their bull shit and totally called them out on it. But take the same situation and give it to a guy who just tells them in a totally different way the same exact news and they have a buddy for life. I don't care, you can have them. I have my friends, and they are amazing, as I've mentioned. Does this make me a bitch, maybe, however, the second you see through it and call me on it, you probably have a friend for life. I LOVE when people call me out on my own shit. ESPECIALLY strangers. Well not the guy from the other night at the bar who called me 'cynical as shit', but normally I'm totally down. That guy was a douche lord who couldn't appreciate a good schtick. I mean, for Christ sake, these children were dressed in slut gear. My friends and I totally thought they were the bar hookers out early, but when we found out they were the "talent" for the evening, we had to stay. Well, until they started destroying Led Zeppelin, then we had to leave out of principle. But, so yeah, I'm sarcastic, and I'm honest, and that's just me. People love me for who I am, and if I could change it, I would. That being said, I really don't feel like I'm a mean person. I don't ever want to come across as the bully. Sure, I do make comments about people when I don't know them and should probably think about it before I say it, and unfortunately I am the person that says what everyone at the table is thinking, but again, all part of my charm. At least that's what I'm going with. Could it be the reason I'm still single? Maybe, but I don't believe it. What I believe is that there is a person out there who can totally handle me. Who can and will call me out when I'm wrong. And who can totally put me in my place. Maybe that's why Craig has been around so long. I've never met anyone who has done all of these things to me like he does. It's true I need to be tamed every now and then and for the most part I feel like I have toned it down A LOT. But again, when it comes to business, I. AM. THE. SHIT! This is why I know my day care will be successful. This is why I know I will find investors who will believe in the product as much as I do. This is why I believe that when I was in funemployment for six months, I had no doubt in my mind that the right thing was going to come along. And it did! I've worked far too hard for far too long for it to go any other way. So go ahead and call me intimidating. Say I'm totally a bitch. I'll agree with you 100% and welcome these challanges.

Fashion Police

Does anyone know what the shelf life of underwear is? I'm sure I could Google it and ask the fashion "experts" out there, but my fear is that they would probably say about three weeks, to which I would raise up in such a panic that I'm going to soon die from crotch rot or underwearatitis, that I would rather use a life line to phone a friend. I mean honestly, how embarrassing it would be to die from underwearatitis. Please promise me that if that does happen you all will just tell the other that it was from some staph infection I got in 'Nam and not because I waited too long to change out the ole bloomers. Just to be clear it's not like I'm roaming around the place in holy garments that are barely hanging on by a string. However, funny story. Some new underwear I bought, let's say within the last year, I decided to put on after a good old fashion shower. I was a little concerned that we were a little light on coverage on one side, but like a good gambling girl, I took a risk. I honestly thought that I wasn't going to participate in any strenuous activity which might involve pushing this particular pair over the brink. However, as I made it into the kitchen, a discovery was made that the garbage disposal wasn't working so as I bent over to look for the reset button, the final seconds of this favorite pair of underwear were lived. It was a sad moment indeed. It's hard work to find your favorite pair of each article of clothing that you own and when you do, your expectation is that they are going to live forever. It's not like I bought a goldfish or a plant! This is fabric people! So, as I lay my underwear down to its final resting place, I go back downstairs to find our second string player. But, as I begin to look through my drawer, I notice that my dras have somehow all become out of date. When was the last time I actually did a thorough inspection? Okay, I know that it's been a LONG time since someone has seen me on a regular basis in these things, but serious Galanty, what have you done?!?!? Do you live in workout clothes so much that you fail to notice your good undies have abandoned ship? So I started wondering if the whole one bad apple theory applies to underwear too. Like, was my favorite pair the leader and the rest of them did what she told them too? If she was going down, was everyone going with her?!?! And so out of curiosity, I took a look into the bra drawer to see if the same rebellion was going on there. I'm telling you people, I need to really start paying attention to what I'm putting on my body. I mean, what if I were to run into Justin Timberlake at a bar and he wants to feel me up and I have a hole in my bra and not to mention the fact that I wouldn't even want to take my pants off due to embarrassment. I believe this theory is going to run the remainder of my days as a single lady. WWJT!! What Would Justin Think?!?!? So as my tax return is put into my account, our 'unmentionables' in which I have devoted an entire blog too, is moved closer to the top of the list of things that MUST be purchased when I have money. Let's just hope that Justin isn't in DC this week.....

My big girl pants

After much deliberation and thought, and considering my dad is out of the office this week, I decided to take on the task of doing my taxes myself. For the longest time I honestly thought I was going to have to enlist the help of Mr. H & R block. Although, in the past, I've always been able to do my taxes myself, this year opened up the possibility of disastrous results. You see, over one years time, I've worked in three states and claimed over $700 in non-reimbursed monies, so I was a little concerned that I wouldn't get it right. I mean, I know that Turbo Tax is good, but I never thought little ole me would figure the damn thing out. I don't know what's happened between this year and last, but some one over at the Turbo Tax offices has made it idiot proof. I'm not even sure that I'm going to have to get an accountant next year if they keep this up. The one complaint I will make, because usually I have to make at least one, is that you should charge people $36 in order to file their state taxes. It's the only thing I'm really waiting on, to be honest. I mean, I have to file 3 state tax forms and one of the states I'm only getting $10 back and in another I actually owe money. Not for nothing, but I'm not sure I'm down with paying $108 for money that I'm not entirely sure it's worth it. I'll pay my taxes, don't you worry about that, but not for $36. I'm going to have a find a loop hole in that one. Oh, and another piece of advice, make sure you read the fine print before agreeing to deduct your Turbo Tax cost from your return. They like to throw in a little "gotcha" by also charging you some bank fee of an additional $29. They make it look like all they are doing is charging you the same amount of money as the use of their system, when in all honesty it's additional. Any other day you would have gotten me, Turbo Tax, but I'm on my game today! Take that government and your stupid confusing taxes. If someone as computer illiterate as I am can do their federal taxes in one hour, there might not be any stopping me. First the IRS, then THE WORLD!!!!!!

Muhuhahahahahhahahah

Big drinking week this week. I'm sure to have plenty of stories of tomfoolery and highjinx later!

Frienemies

Today I'd like to tell you a few little stories about some "friends" of mine. Now I don't use these quote fingers because we're sleeping together or I want to be this persons friend or anything remotely close to that. I use quote fingers because once upon a time I truly believed that we were friends. And then somewhere along the line something happened. Maybe these people were always like this and I chose not to see it, or maybe something really did happen, but whatever the case I have lived enough of my life to realize when it is time to move forward.

Story number one:
Let's call this girl Red for the sake of the story.
I'm assuming that you all know someone that you invite to do things and without fail this person, at the very last minute bails on you? Then they come up with some off the wall story that they think you are going to believe when really all you wanted to hear was that they weren't coming? Or sometimes they don't let you know that they aren't coming, they just don't show up. Well, this is Red. I used to be friends with Red in my pre-Winston Salem days. She's actually one of the people that was friends with the gigantic gay ass hole that I told you about. However, before I left, I had gotten so tired of dealing with her excuses, that I just stopped inviting her to things. In my opinion, it's just plain rude to never show up to things that your constantly invited too. I mean, it's one thing if you tell me no, but it's an entirely different situation if you say you're coming and don't. Well, upon moving back here, Red had sent Heather and I a note stating that she had changed her ways and that she really wanted to hang out with us again. I guess after four years she realized that neither of us were really interested in her story telling ability. She had claimed that she had changed her ways and really, really wanted to get together with us. So, after chatting a bit, Heather and I decided to give her another chance. Every person deserves that right. So, we let her know our plans for both next weekend and this upcoming weekend. We gave her down to the minute detail descriptions, even going so far as to send her the website link so that she would have an idea of what she was getting into. We sent her our cell phone numbers and told her to text or call us if there were any problems. The excuses started right in upon her response. Telling us she had a meeting for the breast cancer walk, but should be out of it in plenty of time to meet up with us. If she didn't, she would text us. Immediately I went ahead and bet Heather a million dollars that she wouldn't show up. Okay, so I said I was giving her a second chance, but really I knew better. Fool me once, and all. Well, the day of our girls night out arrived, which coincidentally was the day after our email exchange. We headed out to the bar and with no note from Red, assumed she was to show up. An hour into the evening and only two beers in, because that service was so awful, and no word. Not to worry, I thought, it is only 7 pm. It's kind of early to be worrying if someone is going to show up or not. Two hours into it and our dinner finally arrived as did our next round of beers. (Side note: I'm completely sympathetic towards the food and beverage industry as a whole, however, when your bar is not crowded and it takes you two hours to make a chicken sandwich, salad, and a quesadilla, and you actually forget the quesadilla, your service is terrible. You might want to find a new line of work.) Hmmm, 8 pm and still no Red. I look to Heather and I say, don't text her yet, she's got another hour to redeem herself. It was at 9 pm when I looked at Heather, shook my head and just went, well true to form she didn't show up. It was then that Heather had the genius idea to stop by Red's local watering hole to see if she not only decided to ditch us, but to then show up to another bar with her husband. We wouldn't actually put this past Red to do. So, after paying our bill in which the bartender forgot to take off the quesadilla we never actually ate, only tipping $4, we head out to the other bar. We are greeted by a wall of people who we claim are extremely young, but only later realize that we are the older ones in the room. As we do a lap before committing to our location, we realize that neither of them are here. It is now that I allow Heather the opportunity to call and text them letting them know we are close so that they have absolutely no reason why they can't come out. First phone call attempt, personal cell, straight to voicemail. Second phone call attempt, house phone, no voice mail. Third phone call attempt, work cell, no voicemail. Two texts sent, as of today, Wednesday March 9th, still no response. As we belly up to the bar, the remainder of our night is spent bashing Red and wondering why in the world we put ourselves through this again. It wasn't until Monday morning when I awoke and noticed an email from Red herself subject line, so.....i suck. What I wanted to say was, no argument from me. But instead I keep to the "if I don't have anything nice to say, don't say anything at all" motto. Upon further reading of this email, it goes on to say that she didn't get home until 7:30, fell asleep at 8:30, had turned her ringer off during her meeting and it wasn't until Sunday night did she realize that she had a voicemail and two texts. On top of that, she proceeds to tell us that throughout the day there was this endless nagging on her of "something that she knew she had to do that day but couldn't, for the life of her remember what that something was". Let me explain how I know this is a lie. 1. On facebook, she decided to check in at the gym in the morning. The only way one can check in anywhere is through their phone. 2. Who doesn't have their phone on their person at all times and even though it doesn't make a sound or blink that annoying light in the corner, who doesn't check to make sure there isn't anything on their screen that they've missed? 3. What grown adult, who normally spends every Friday and Saturday night at the same bar goes to bed at 8:30 pm?!?!?!? She has no kids. 4. We emailed with her FRIDAY AFTERNOON for the Saturday night activity. You mean to tell me that you forgot something within 24 hour of it supposed to be happening? I might want to shift my emotion to concern if you can't remember something the very next day. That's almost troubling.
So, okay, yes, maybe I'm blowing this way out of proportion and some of you reading this that are friends of mine might be thinking to yourself, holy crap, very small window to screw up with this girl, but it's not true at all. I consider myself a very tolerant and caring person. However, when you continue to allow me to give you the opportunity to correct past behavior that you know is not okay and then you show me by doing the exact same thing that you've been doing the entire time, what else am I supposed to do? If a guy I were dating was displaying this type of behavior, what would you tell me to do with him? Hopefully kick his ass to the curb because he obviously don't have enough respect for me to treat me the way he would want to be treated or that I deserve to be treated. And I would want you to tell me this. So, as a friend, I hold you in the same regard. Obviously that really struck a nerve with me.

Story number two:
Okay this one, I probably will get in a little bit of trouble about, but I'd like to stop an epidemic which is sweeping our nation. I'm all on board the affordability that text messaging and emailing provides us. I get the fact that some people, instead of sending individual messages to people, prefer to send them out in mass style. And I might actually let you get away with it for a Happy Thanksgiving or Happy New Year or Merry Christmas. I'm not saying I like, it , but I'll let it slide in comparison. I am, however, going to draw the line if you're going to give such big news as a wedding announcement, birth of a child, or a pregnancy. I feel that if we're that good of friends maybe a little personalized note with it, or a phone call, or something other than reading it on facebook, blogosphere, mass email/text. I don't know, call me old fashion, but the reason that I went to TCU over going to UT was because I felt like I wanted to be a name, not just a number. And again, maybe I hold my friendships in too high a regard that I treat them way differently than some other people. And then again, maybe as I'm writing this I realize I should be taking some sort a of hint in that I'm not friends with these people the way I thought I was. Huh, well that one made me think a little bit.

So the moral of these stories, as usually I have them, if not for you all, then definitely for myself is that communication is a huge thing in this world and with all of the new ways to get stuff out there, sometimes getting back to the basics means more to someone than you might think.