I’m rolling out the welcome mat at my new abode, PomJob.com. It was designed by the lovely and talented Jayesel.
If only house-moving was as easy as this, I would be writing to you from a corpse-free home! Bonus: the new Web site is totally prettier than my current house.
I’ve been considering moving out on my own for several months now but there are a few things holding me back:
a) I’m lazy and moving is a lot of work.
b) I don’t like asking for help. I can’t move all my crap by myself.
c) I really like the street/area on which I live. It’s mostly families, some older people, a few cops. It’s safe and steps away from the bus stop.
d) Money. I could afford to live on my own but that’s about all I could afford. Right now I’m banking several hundred dollars each month into my ING account to use as a down payment someday.
Last weekend there was a moving truck in the driveway of the rowhome next door. I hadn’t seen the young woman who lived there in many months and the incessant yapping from her ankle biting dog had been noticably absent. Turns out she moved in with her boyfriend, got married, got pregnant, had a baby and just never bothered to clean her stuff out of her father’s house.
When I found out all this, I joked to my roommate that I had been a little concerned and wouldn’t it be horrible if she had disappeared or died?
My roommate talked to her and found out she was planning to rent out the rowhouse.
Perfect! It will make moving easier, I’m already familiar with the neighborhood and the neighbors are pretty cool. I snuck next door and talked to the girl and left my phone number.
I don’t think I’ll be moving into that rowhouse. Today, while talking to the neighbors two doors down, I learned that she went MIA to try to cope with the fact that while she was on vacation, a male friend/roommate died in her house. And no one discovered that he was dead for at least five days.
It’s a crazy tale involving psychology, a roofing accident, drugs and a poor doggy who was trapped in the house with the corpse.
There are plenty of things I dislike about my current home, but if my only other option is living where a guy ODed and then decomposed for five days, I think I can live with stained carpet and an outdated kitchen for a little while longer.
Maybe the college kids who just moved in next door will soon be evicted. I can’t imagine their other neighbors with the newborn will appreciate the neverending beer pong tournaments in the front yard and dance parties in the living room.
This week on America’s Next Top Cult Model…
Photo courtesy of RealityTV.com
Does anyone think the contestant from Alaska looks like a refugee from the YFZ Ranch? Or Big Love? This isn’t the best post to illustrate my theory but the glimpse I caught of her tonight totally did.
(Is it horrible of me to say that?)
Summer is officially over. How do I know? I was 20 minutes late for work.
A new bus schedule gives me options: leave a couple minutes earlier than usual and allegedly arrive at work at 8:19, or leave a couple minutes later than before and arrive at 8:28. Being the dedicated employee I am, I left a few minutes early and waited. And waited. The bus finally rolled up at 7:56. The doors open and… people start pouring out.
Someone upchucked on the bus.
The upside? The new driver didn’t make me pay.
Is that a bandwagon? I’ll jump on!
It’s BlogDay! Time to find five new blogs and spread the bloglove. I read about this early this morning and started poking around. I’m picky when it comes to blogs so I only wanted to share links to blogs that I added to my Reader. Anyway, it took me a long time to come up with five new blogs so this will be posted after midnight. Can we pretend I’m in Central time? If you want to participate, here are the rules:
1) Find 5 new Blogs that you find interesting
2) Notify the 5 bloggers that you are recommending them as part of BlogDay 2008
3) Write a short description of the Blogs and place a link to the recommended Blogs
4) Post the BlogDay Post (today, Aug. 31)
5) Add the BlogDay tag using this link:
http://technorati.com/tag/BlogDay2008 and a link to the BlogDay web site at http://www.blogday.org
And now, my choices:
I think if I still lived in Virginia, I would totally stalk Le Petite Chic and make her be my friend. She likes cheese, country music, deals and now purple, and so do I.
I’m sort of a goody two-shoes, too, Simply, Me. And I love Friends.
Like Cleveland’s a Plum, I write as I talk, market stuff, have lived in Ohio, and my blog will soon be purple. (Notice a trend?)
Slynnro – my dad used to make us pick rocks from the fields, not even really as punishment. At least you can eat jalapeños. I want her to be one of my personal stylists.
Tomorrow is Sept. 1, the official kickoff to the new television season. How I Met Your Blog helped me remember some of the priceless moments from one of the best comedies out there. If you aren’t already addicted, get thee the first three seasons of How I Met Your Mother on DVD ASAP. You can thank me later. Seriously, I’ve made that show so many fans, I should get to be a guest star or something.
I hope you enjoy these blogs as much as I do. If you participated in Blog Day, please let me know so I can add more blogs to my repertoire.
Oh y’all. I’m totally going to Hell for what I did tonight.
I lied to multiple tweens. And they believed me. But it was for their own good.
If you set up a booth to promote nature’s most nearly perfect food, teenyboppers will think everything on said booth is affiliated with/touched by/beloved/former property of the Jonas Brothers. So when girls started asking questions like, “Did the Jonas Brothers touch this lip gloss?” I had no choice but to reply yes.
And then I might have said yes, I did meet the Jonas Brothers. No, I didn’t get their autographs. But one did kiss me. Which one? Umm… NIck! Yes. Definitely Nick. What? He’s only 15? Uh, it was on the cheek. Seriously. (Girls, I’m sorry. Everything unrelated to my job was a lie. Don’t hate me.)
And the screaming. Oh the screaming. They JBs did meet-and-greets in a little room a couple hundred feet for us. Every time the door opened and the girls caught a glimpse of a moving body inside the room, the building erupted in an ear-splitting squeal.
And then my coworker was trampled in the mob’s quest to see Demi someone walk down the hallway.
Please tell me I never acted like that.
(However, my colleague, once she pieced herself back together, sent me home with 2 pounds of cheese. Party at my house!)
I hate waiting in lines. It will go down eventually and unless there’s an item or event about to expire, I usually prefer to sit in a comfortable chair until only a few people are in the queue.
When I flew to Portland, Maine, it was like an alternate universe. The parking shuttle waited for me; I looked around suspiciously to make sure I was in the right airline because the check in was vacant; and there were TWO people before me in security. Two!
I found a seat at the gate and lingered even after my zone four companions and I were paged to board. Standing in line, juggling heavy, bulky carry on items is my idea hell.
As I walked the aisle to my seat near the back, I saw a familiar face in my row. I had never had a celebrity encounter before but there, sitting in the seat next to me, was Josh Blue from Last Comic Standing. I tried to play it cool, but playing it cool for me usually means acting really snobby and ignoring the other person. But then he tucked a picture of a baby boy in the corner of his tray table to try to make conversation. Who can resist a baby? Soulless people, that’s who. So I asked if the boy was his son and thus began our two hour conversation. He told me about playing in the Paralympics and being multilingual, I told him about milking cows.
If you see a Josh Blue show and he talks about a girl who talked about milk, let me know. I think I might have earned myself a spot in a comedy routine.
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I started this post a long time ago. Like so many bloggers right now, the beautiful August weather is zapping my creativity. However! I just won the I Spy contest hosted by the lovely Quirky at Quirky and Mr. Talented! That calls for a celebratory (and celebrity) post.
Two years ago, we browsed maternity clothes while on vacation in Chicago. My sister announced she was expecting at a Fourth of July party two months earlier and her baby bump was starting to show, necessitating new clothes.
I have to say, the outcome of that pregnancy was pretty spectacular.
On Friday, I commented to my grandmother that I hope my sister, Bim, gets pregnant soon. She and her husband have been trying for a year and it’s emotionally taxing, I’m sure, waiting for that pink line to show up every month. Grandma said my mom had just bought maternity clothes for her on Wednesday. I guess that’s what you do in Chicago, 10.5 percent sales tax be damned.
Bright and early Saturday morning, Bim called bright and early (aka 10 a.m. Central Time) to prepare us for the next spectacular outcome.
My youngest sister and I are planning to stay away from Chicago for a long time. (Or until I have to go back in two months. Given the outcomes of our last two visits, she’s not allowed invited.)
I learned yesterday that Chicago PomJob is much more fun than regular PomJob.
When she found out that I was spending additional time in Chicago after our training, my colleague S invited me to her home and then we went to Wicker Park for dinner. (In case you’re wondering, the Wicker Park dog park smells like a chicken coup.) After debating the merits of delicious sangria versus a novel of beer options, we decided to head to People to introduce me to the world of tapas. How have I lived 27 years without tapas in my life? It was divine. I tried many new things: sheep’s milk cheese, goat’s milk cheese, mango chutney and spaghetti squash cakes.
Speaking of 27, as we enjoyed a bottle of wine at S’s house before dinner, the subject of age arose and S stated/questioned whether I was around the same age as her and M, right? I knew I was several years younger but as I was trying to tactfully correct her, she said, “You’re what, 34?” Um. Yikes.
After two carafes of sangria, several plates of food and great conversation, we interrupted a kickball league celebration at the bar next door. When they lined up for a game of flip cup, I almost asked to join in. After a beer, M and S said their goodbyes and I headed for the L to head back to my hotel. At the fare machine I realized I only had a $10 and a $20 and I didn’t really want to put it all on a card. The info booth doesn’t give change, so I went back outside to the Blue Line Lounge. I couldn’t just ask for change, so I ordered a scrumptious social mojito and became engrossed in the Olympic gymnastic competition.
The regular me would never go to a bar by myself. I over think it – people will think I look like a loser; I won’t have anyone to talk to. But that’s the beauty of having a few drinks first, my inhibitions were lowered. Almost immediately, the guy sitting two barstools over starting analyzing the Olympics then a couple sat on my other side and we started chatting (oxymoron of the night: they guy’s name is Little John and he’s probably 6′4″). That’s when I discovered the Blue Line has board games! At this point, Olympics Announcer tells me he’s married to one of the bartenders but he paid for his drinks and left without saying bye to her. I don’t know if I believe him but why would be lie about it?
One mojito turned into two as a group of friends came in and I pointed out the board games. I challenged them to Candyland then we broke out Taboo. Two a.m. rolled around and the bar’s lights came up. The group headed back to the bar where I had already had a beer but I took my sweet time paying my tab so I could avoid having to rebuff the advances of my Taboo teammate who made suggestive comments throughout the game.
I finally had change for the L but unfortunately it doesn’t run very often that late and P.S.? Chicago gets chilly at night. After about 30 minutes of sitting next to a woman who I am pretty sure is a prostitute and her pimp, I started pacing the platform so I wouldn’t pass out on the bench. That’s when I met a HOT surgeon who was in town to take some kind of surgeon test. And then the L decided to show up.
The only downside to lowered inhibitions is the lowered sense of safety. Is it smart to run around a strange town by yourself and talk to strangers who offer candy-flavored drinks? Probably not but I survived and had a blast. Although now I do have an awesome script in mind for an episode of “Without a Trace.”
 | Megkathleen on My own Wisteria Lane |
 | UncommonBlonde on My own Wisteria Lane |
 | Caitlin on My own Wisteria Lane |
 | Quirky on My own Wisteria Lane |
 | katelin on ANTCM |
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BlogDay2008