27 February 2007

When multitasking isn't a great idea.

It's probably not the best idea to call your daughter's doctor to request a refill for her Adderall prescription while you're peeing in a public bathroom.

Hey, I know your time is valuable. You've made that painfully obvious all the times I've entered the bathroom and heard you yammering away on your cell phone to someone while you're taking a dump.

I really don't need to know your business. And somehow I think your daughter would probably not appreciate you spilling her business out there for anyone who happens to be within earshot at the time. Lord knows, the people at the doctor's office want to hear you pissing while you're talking to them.

You, lady, are one klassy broad.

26 February 2007

To Minneapolis.

To the City of Minneapolis: thanks for not towing all the assholes who parked on Lyndale during the snow emergency last night. Who wants to be able to park on the street, anyway?

To the assholes who didn't move their cars on my block last night: I hope you get towed next time and have to wait in line for several hours to get your car back.

To Pony Tail and Blackberry on the 4 this morning: You're no better, nor are you more important, than anyone else. Your bag does not deserve its own seat. The bus was crowded and you can hold your bag on your lap like the rest of us do so people can sit down. I hope the next time you have a really shitty morning or a horrible day at work and you just want to sit down on the bus and get home that everyone on your bus is as self-absorbed an asshole as you and won't move their shit so you can sit down.

To the older jerk who squeezed in next to me and forced me to spend the entire bus ride leaning: Here's a tip you should follow next time you're out on a booze and smokes bender -- BRUSH YOUR FUCKING TEETH IN THE MORNING. Jeebus H. Motherfucking Christ, that shit made my eyes water.

To the 6U driver: I ride your bus nearly every day. I'm always pleasant and say "Good morning" when I board and "Thank you" if I exit through the front of the bus. Today, the fuckers on my bus crowded the sidewalk and ambled leisurely, but I still managed to get to the door of your bus while the light was red. You looked at me and then took off. Fuck you. I hope you get stuck on a route frequented by juvenile deliquents.

To all the bastards who didn't shovel their sidewalks: I shouldn't need a pair of snowshoes to walk to the bus. I hope you contract an especially virulent strain of antibiotic-resistant gonnorrhea. Even you, Pizza Luce? You're a business for fuck's sake. I'm boycotting you.

Finally, to the guy who helped me extricate my car from the snow bank in which I was forced to park because I followed the snow emergency rules: You rule. That was a very nice thing to do and you made up for all the jerks listed above.

23 February 2007

I need to buy stuff.

My tax refund shopping jones has finally hit me. It's odd because I usually get it at the same time I get my refund, not two weeks later. I was content to mostly buy stuff I needed (bras and underwear) at that point. Okay, I bought a couple of lip glosses and CDs.

Maybe it's because I don't have anything hanging over my head at work today. Maybe the barometric pressure from the impending snow storm is affecting my brain. However, instead of thinking I need to go to the grocery store to buy 15 gallons of milk, I need a new purse or something. Whatever it is, I need to shop. I ordered a book, DVD and CD from Amazon this morning. I'm watching a few vintage purses on eBay. Ordering things online is just not scratching my itch, though. So, I'm going to stop at the mall on my way home (but not home, as I'm house sitting). To buy what? I haven't a clue. I need new sneakers to wear ... around, I guess. The ones I wear most days are falling apart.

I don't really understand my desire to shop in stores. I generally hate shopping (unless it's for make up or at Target for anything). When I have money, I can't find things on which to blow it. When I'm broke, there are roughly a bazillion things I want -- no, desperately need!

The comforting thing about this is that I most likely will go into one store, get frustrated and leave without spending any money.

Also, who the fuck wrapped these Starburst up so goddamn tight? I want my fake, fruit-flavored sugar with minimal fuss, you assholes.

20 February 2007

Dudes in shorts.

There is a heat wave hitting Minneapolis. For two days now, the temperature has reached more than 40 degrees. This would be cause for celebration regardless, but it's especially delightful after the bitter cold we'd been experiencing.

This of course means that there are dudes in shorts out and about. I saw five today, but just one yesterday. To be fair, four of the five that I saw today were out running. Really only one was inappropriately dressed and he seemed to be a stupid high school kid. And Lord knows high school kids are all about dressing inappropriately, for the weather or otherwise.

It's difficult to realize that the weather won't be getting warmer from here on out. There is bound to be another round of cold; not as cold as it had been, but it will go back down. And March is the snowiest month, so it's not over yet. However, I'm beginning to see the light at the end of the tunnel. The sun is still up when I get home from work. There is not a lot of snow on the ground.

Spring is just around the corner!

19 February 2007

... a dead mouse in a sink ...

I have been singing The Stills' "Of Montreal" nonstop since Saturday. However, I didn't see a dead mouse in a sink. I did see one on the basement floor on my way to the laundry room. And said mouse was most certainly not turning me on.

I managed to walk past the corpse of Stuart Little several times on Saturday. Hey -- I needed clean underwear. A friend asked if I was going to be moving because of the mouse issue. The thought hadn't even occurred to me. Sweet! This means that I am getting tougher or that I'm just really fucking lazy. Perhaps it's a little from Column A and a little from Column B. Or more than a little from Column B.

And since I've mentioned The Stills, I just can't get over how horribly disapointing I found their second album to be. Logic Will Break Your Heart was brilliant. I still love it. I wish it was on my iPod because I want to listen to it RIGHT NOW. I listened to it on Saturday after my run-in with dead and bloated Stuart Little, but that wasn't enough, apparently. I need more.

Their sophomore effort, Without Feathers, was mediocre at best. I couldn't figure out what was so off about the album. It finally dawned on me about halfway through their show at the Varsity Theater a year ago. The lead vocalist on all but one track on their debut album didn't sing much on the second album. He may not have had lead vocals on anything on the second album. I can't recall because I can't remember the last time I listened to it. That was the most disappointing show I saw in 2006. It's a shame, really.

18 February 2007

15 February 2007

Hooray for free speech.

So, you may have heard that Tim Hardaway hates gay people. And you know what? It's his right to say that.

Fortunately, the same right to free speech that allows him to voice his opinion allows me to say that Tim Hardaway is an stupid fucking bigot. Yay!

12 February 2007

I'm not going to bitch about being single on Valentine's Day.

And it's not because I've fallen madly in love with someone. Nor am I making elaborate anti-Valentine's plans in an effort to give the finger to Corporate America, who seems to think that I need some dude to give me chocolate and flowers on February 14.

No, I'm not doing any of those things because the day doesn't have much to do with "choo-choo-choosing" anyone for me. See, my grandma was killed in a car accident 10 years ago Wednesday. While others are worried about whether her boyfriend will make dinner reservations at a good restaurant or what his wife's favorite flowers are, I'm missing my grandma.

I'm surprised at how much I miss her still. I also feel bad because I don't miss my grandpa as much. He died 20 years ago Friday. I guess it stands to reason that I just knew my grandma better, because I had 10 years with her that I didn't have with my grandpa.

Also fairly surprising is how much I remember from the day she died. I was annoyed at my boyfriend because he got me shitty candy for Valentine's and I'd gotten him good candy. Little did I know that my day was going to get a lot worse. I remember the phone call from my dad. The phone call to the aforementioned boyfriend, who was less than supportive (but he was a cheating asshole, too, so what do you expect?), and the phone calls to my bosses at two jobs and to a friend. They were considerably more supportive.

The drive over to Middlebrook Hall to pick up my cousin. Our drive to the farm. The waves of family coming home. Going to my brother's basketball game. Getting a hug from my best friend from high school's brother's best friend (who heard Ferris passed out at 31 Flavors). Not telling my mom that my sister and her boyfriend took my brother to the hospital because he'd gotten a concussion sliding into the mats under the basket.

But after that, it gets kind of foggy. The family asked me to write her obituary. I know I did it. And the newspaper changed it, which was disappointing. It's not like I didn't know what I was doing. I wrote a few obits at the Daily in college.

I remember my uncle walking into the funeral home for the wake looking frighteningly like my grandpa. I remember that awful, awful silence when we walked in for our first viewing. My dad asked me to sing at the funeral. I enlisted the help of my cousins and we did that. I remember that was the only time during the funeral that I wasn't crying. That's really about all I remember. My birthday was the day after the burial and I don't have any idea what I did.

My grandma was so sweet, gentle and kind. She stood in fairly stark contrast to my grandpa and his gruff nature. I can see her so well in my aunts. I love listening to the stories my aunts and uncles tell about her and my grandpa when we're together and people start reminiscing. Whenever I hear someone say "warsh" or "wrasslin'" I think of her.

It's odd how I share this experience with my entire family, and yet I feel so completely alone these few days before the anniversary of her death. But I think we all deal with it our own way. My brother used to go to the cemetery and put a rose on her grave every Valentine's Day, until he moved to the metro area. And I have my own little ritual. On Wednesday, I'll drink a toast (or several toasts) to my grandma. Okay, I'll get semi-stinking drunk. I'll do it again on Friday for my grandpa. And by then, I'll be okay again.

11 February 2007

Disappointment in the kitchen.

I made Irish stew today. It is very underwhelming. One bite tastes awesome, the next a little bitter, then the next is pretty good. I don't think it thickened properly, either.

It's not like I fucked it up, or anything. The stew just doesn't really live up to the expectations I'd created in my mind. Perhaps it'll taste better when it's reheated. It often seems as if chili, stews and soups get better each time you reheat it. Even my sloppy joes taste roughly 100 times better once they've been reheated. I really hope that's the case, because I have a shitload leftover. I'd planned to eat it for lunch all week.

All this is a part of my growth as a cook, I guess. There are things I tend to avoid eating (and thus cooking) for a reason. I'm not wild about soups or stews. But this recipe seduced me. Add the ridiculous cold we'd been experiencing, and it just seemed like Irish stew would make such a lovely, comforting meal. Plus, there was Guinness in it. I'm such a sucker.

I suppose I'll fall back on the usual suspects for a while now, until I get the urge to be ambitious in the kitchen again. Maybe it won't be too long. I've got a birthday coming up and I can't rightly have a birthday without cake, right? And I think I have a good idea as to how I can use a bit of the Guinness I have leftover (besides drinking it, of course): chocolate stout cake.

I've always been a better baker than cook, anyway.

Update: While the stew smelled better upon being reheated for my lunch, the taste was unchanged. The disappointment is now compounded. At least I have many options for lunch in Dinkytown.

I love bands.

Minneapolis has a great local rock scene. I was going through withdrawl -- I hadn't been to a show since early December. But I got my fix tonight at the Uptown Bar.

09 February 2007

What I did with my tax refund.

I'm not done spending it yet, of course. I really, really, really am going to try to save some of it. Why must I be so horrible with money?

Anyway, let me tell y'all about the exciting things I've purchased so far with my tax refund:

On Monday, I bought a wireless router. Now I can blog from the deck when the weather gets nice. If nice weather ever returns, of course. I also picked up a couple of CDs -- Lily Allen and The Black Keys. And I purchased the previously mentioned (and still unused) electronic pest repeller.

Tuesday it was hair stuff. Wheee! Wednesday ... oh, Wednesday. I bought new underwear on Wednesday! This marks my first foray into boy shorts. They're interesting. They have yet to be given the gym test. Should they pass the gym test, I'll be sold. Granted, I bought the underwear partly to avoid doing laundry. But I realized yesterday that I was out of warm socks and had to do laundry anyway. Such is life.

Today, it's bras. Hot damn. Foundation garments, computer peripherals and hair products -- I know how to have a good time. The party is not stopping here, either. I still plan to buy a couple of books and a dutch oven. *sigh* When did I turn into an adult?

Stuart Little update: I managed to hang out in my living room all night last night with a minimum of stress and worry. The beer and wine helped, of course. I discovered that the initial box of d-con I'd put out behind the couch on Saturday night was basically empty. I'm at once pleased and totally creeped out by all of this. That explains why none of the others appear to have been touched, I guess. Stuart (and his buddies?) went nuts on the first box. By now, he/they should be dead or nearly dead. I'd rather not happen upon their wee corpses, if it's all the same to whoever is in charge of that.

I still have a few more steps to conquer before I get my reward. The MAC store will be super crowded on the weekend, anyway. Maybe I'll get my make up done for my birthday next weekend. If I have an appointment to spend money, it'll be a lot easier.

07 February 2007

Jess 2, Stuart Little 1

I've managed to not only sleep at home the past two nights, but sleep really well. It's true that Monday night I was exhausted from little sleep and a hangover and last night ... was probably just a continuation of being tired. However, the fact remains that I was brave. Kinda.

Between errands, yoga and just being tired, I haven't spent much time at home. Tonight won't be all that much different as I need to run and errand and go to the gym. I had planned to stay home tomorrow night, though, and through the weekend.

I have to move some of the d-con my friend placed before we left Sunday night. It's only in my living room and I haven't looked all that closely, but it doesn't really appear that any of it's been eaten. That is going to require serious bravery. I'm hoping that armed with rubber gloves and my bad-ass red snakeskin boots, I'll be able to accomplish that task.

I bought an electronic pest repeller (but not this one) the other night at Target and have yet to plug it in. It emits some ultrasonic sound or something that supposedly keeps mice, roaches and spiders away. If I get a two-for-one with the spiders and have fewer spiderwebs to vacuum up, awesome. The reason I haven't plugged the contraption in yet is silly. I'm afraid a mouse (or worse yet, mice) will immediately emerge in search of somewhere to go to get away from the sound. And that's why I will do it right before I leave for the gym tonight.

This is the one time in my life that I really wish I had a boyfriend. Though, the last time I had mice, I had a boyfriend and he was less than supportive about it. He was also a cheating asshole. Still, I pride myself on being an independent woman (Pre-Rapture Girl? Post-Millenium Gal?) and hate that something like this makes me feel I need a man.

But if I can be brave, there's a reward in it for me -- a trip to the MAC store. That's Make-up Art Cosmetics, not the computer store. Mama needs a new lip gloss. And maybe a new lipstick. And eyeshadows.

05 February 2007

I hate meeces to pieces.

I have a confession to make. I have a pathological fear of mice. It's at the phobia level, essentially. Seeing them almost always reduces me to a puddle of tears, sweat and asthma.

The first thing people usually say to me when I tell them of this fear is, "Seriously? But you grew up on a farm. How can you be afraid of a little mouse?" Of course, only the people who know I grew up on a farm actually say that, I guess. I don't have an answer to that question. I have no idea why I am so terrified of something so small. I just am.

So, I freaked out a little bit when I ran into one of the people who live upstairs in my fouplex and she told me they had mice. I was really good about keeping my apartment clean. I was trying so hard to not give them anything to get into in my place in the hopes that they'd stay out. I'd even been eating over the sink, for Christ's sake.

And I really thought I'd been successful. I cleaned up really well after my Super Bowl party last night -- did dishes, put everything away where nothing could get at it and vacuumed everything, including the couch cushions.

Not five minutes after I'd finished all that, I was walking into the kitchen and saw a wee black spot scurry across the floor.

Fuck. I have a mouse.

I retreated to my room to contemplate my plan of action and a few minutes later, from my perch on the bed I saw it again, in the living room this time. So, I shut my bedroom door and called a friend who came to get me so I could sleep on his couch in his mouse-free apartment.

I'd put a box of d-con down on Saturday night. I wish I'd done it right when I bought it more than a week ago. My friend put the remaining three boxes down before we left last night. The guy I spoke to at my apartment management company said this would be their plan of action and I'd put down more than enough. He also said, they'd put d-con down in another apartment a week or so ago and the renters had seen a mouse the next day (just like me), but that was it.

I'm exhausted now. I didn't sleep well for a variety of reasons and I'm still sick. I don't think I can sleep on another couch, but I'm terrified to go home. Just thinking about it turns my stomach. But I don't really have any other options. I've got several hours to get my courage up.

I hate being a wuss.

04 February 2007

The Big Game.

Ah, the last day of football. Well, I guess the Pro Bowl is what, next week? Does anyone watch that?

It is The Sex Cannon vs. Dick Head. No, seriously, his head looks like a penis. God forbid he ever start balding and shave his head. Colts games would have to be censored. He'd be all pixelated or there'd be a blue dot where his head should be.

Like any woman, I cannot resist the power of Sexy Rexy, so I'm pulling for the Bears. Tony Dungy's ties to the Gophers be damned; they can't trump my hatred of Peyton Manning. I'm not going to pick a score or anything. I stop doing that with the last office pool. I think I'm always wrong, anyway.

And since it is Super Bowl Sunday, you know what that means, right? It's Puppy Bowl III. They're so cute I can't stand it. Whatever happens to women who are baby-crazy when they see babies happens to me when I see puppies. I remember being at a show at First Avenue last year where they showed Puppy Bowl II on the big screen between bands. It was surreal and most delicious.

Um, I'm watching the Pistons and Cavs and our local ABC affiliate, KSTP, is running a scroll saying that there are schools closing tomorrow already because of the cold. Granted, it's only a couple of charter schools, but it's not going to be that cold. It's only supposed to get to -20. Perhaps I should work from home tomorrow, lest I catch hypothermia at the bus stop. I suppose that all depends on how much I have to drink tonight.

I should finish getting things ready for my party. I tried my hand at vegetarian sloppy joes (in addition to regulation meaty joes) for my veggie friend. I wasn't too crazy about them yesterday, but they might get better upon being reheated. The regular ones do, for sure.

It's foosball time, bitches.

02 February 2007

Enjoy your frostbite, suckers.

When I left home this morning to catch my bus it was -7F with a -25F windchill. Oddly enough, when I left at 5:30 a.m. to take Carrie to the airport it was -6 with a -20 windchill. I hate when it gets colder before I leave for work. Both times I went out, I was wearing four layers under my coat and was bundled to the point that really the only exposed skin I had was around my eyes.

There was a guy waiting for the bus with me who was wearing a fleece and gloves. No real coat, nothing on his head or covering his ears. Well, he did cover his ears with his hands, I guess. The thing is, he wasn't the only person I saw wearing just a fleece. And I saw plenty of people without anything on their hands or heads.

I can understand high schoolers doing that kind of thing. Lord knows I was stupid and cared more about how I looked than whether or not I was going to freeze when I was that age. But once I got to college and had to walk around campus in the cold, I stopped caring. I only wanted to be warm. I was even somewhat guilty of not dressing all that properly for the weather when I drove to work. However, that all changed when I started taking the bus. Even five minutes waiting in a semi-covered shelter can be torture if it's cold enough.

What baffles me is adults not dressing properly; especially when they know they are going to be outside for a while. Did you not know that it was going to be below zero? Or that the windchills are going to be near dangerous levels -- the levels where your skin can freeze in mere minutes if it isn't covered? Because it's all anyone has been talking about all week.

So, you go ahead and enjoy your frostbite. I'll bundle up and deal with weird hair. At least I'll be warm.