Another one bites the dust...

Translation: I was going to write this whole big blog post about the top 5 things you should NEVER do in a restaurant today, but my laptop attempted suicide earlier. The damn thing jumped right off my bed and landed on it's charging port, cracking it up to all hell. I can plug in the charger, but the screen tells me its plugged in but not charging. My laptop is three years old and has about a 5 minute lifespan without batteries, so maybe it was trying to find a way out. Perhaps I'm not as witty as I think I am, and it just couldn't take it anymore. In that event, I apologize to the PC I am currently using.

Anywho, I dropped the lemon laptop off at a local company earlier today that was supposed to call me back with an estimate around 3. I am not by any means a patient person, but when I had still not heard back at 4:30 I called. Apparently the guy never came by the office to pick it up and have a look, so I won't know anything until tomorrow. I will twiddle my thumbs in a corner until then, waiting til I can compulsively check the status of my shops on the appropriately named "My Shops" facebook app, Chive full time, and generally find ways to procrastinate with my school work. It's hard knock life.

In the event my once expensive laptop (a Dell Inspiron 1525...a line that tried to put the 'p' in promising but ended up putting the 'p' closer to pathetic) is expensive to fix, I have found a new apple of my eye. A cheap Gateway that rolls out the door for less than 400. And has Windows 7. And Office 2010. And a screen that is TWO inches larger than my current laptop.

The moral of the story: I guess I kind of hope little Inspiron is off running in greener pastures and has found peace...

...this is all too familiar.

"Everyone hears only what he understands."

Translation: And right now I only understand 50 percent of what’s going on. Due to my sinuses/wax issues, I have lost all hearing in my right ear. I was q-tipping this morning and something is now lodged in my ear canal. I’ve tried drops, tomorrow I try oil. And nowhere in this equation will there be a doctor visit. The only thing I hate more than being hard of hearing (and Oprah) is going to the doctor.

There’s an upside and a downside to not being able to hear out of one ear. The downside being, I can’t effing hear anything happening on the right side of my head. Anytime someone tries to speak to me and my head isn’t cocked at the right angle, all I hear is Charlie Brown’s teacher. And when I’m walking through a crowded room I have to sway my head around frantically like a frickin Spaniel with separation anxiety so I can hear what’s going on around me.

Thinking of investing in an ear horn should the oil not loosen the clog.

Can anyone make this look sexy?

And on the upside, I can’t effing hear anything happening on the right side of my head. Catch 22 folks- but to the annoying people in the movie theater behind me earlier, I literally turned a deaf ear to you today. BAM- instant sound proofing. Tomorrow morning when the house is buzzing with activity and my lazy ass wants to sleep in, I’m only gonna need one ear plug. Without my glasses, I’m 75 percent on the way to being the next Helen Keller.

I’ve decided my deafness is temporary, so I might as well find the silver lining. When people are making fun of me for not being able to hear out of my right ear, I turn the other cheek. It’s both admirable and an efficient way to ignore them. What’s that you say? I can’t hear you? Oh are you trying to make fun of me? BECAUSE IT’S FALLING ON DEAF EAR(S).

The hardest part has actually been not yelling everything I say. I’m afraid I am losing the ability to speak with an “inside voice,” and if this doesn’t clear up in a day or two I not even going to have an inner monologue anymore. I might not be able to, but the whole damn world is gonna hear what’s on my mind.

I like my money right where I can see it - hanging in my closet.

Translation: There is no such thing as too many clothes, just too small a closet. This is a recent statement I made to my boyfriend that signaled a red flag in my own head (he already knows I'm crazy, but I refuse to accept it). But as a compulsive bargain shopper, I see nothing wrong with owning over ten pairs of black heels, a bajillion pair of skinny jeans, and a wardrobe Victoria herself would not want to keep secret, except for the fact that all these purchases were made on a buy one get one premise.

It occurs to me when I moved to Michigan after stuffing all my furniture in storage, I shipped about 12 24x24x24 boxes of shoes and clothes. And this was after donating 15 LARGE bags full of old clothes and shoes. Now, after living back home for almost a year, I fear the amount of shopping my mother and I have done is beyond healthy, but still a damn good lotta fun. When I move again I am going to need a U-haul for my shoes alone (black pump collection has been upped by a few pairs).

Now for those of you that follow me on the Facebook (yes, that one), you’ll know I recently paid off my credit card(s). I had two Capital One accounts that, let’s face it, at first I used responsibly but somewhere in between my first apartment and my 80th pair of shoes, I kind of let that “emergency purposes only” rule slide. Or, in my mind, an online sale at the likes of Express really was an emergency because those moments were few and far between. Never had being broke looked so utterly stylish.

But many trips to the bar, mall, and Outback later- I owed my credit card company about four grand. And it took me almost four years to pay off while still keeping a roof over my head and my power on (doesn’t matter how nice your clothes are, you cannot dress yourself in the dark). I was making good headway but my interest rates were so high that I consolidated my debt and took my business elsewhere. Capital One- you are so not what’s in my wallet.

I realize my troubles were completely self inflicted, but with the help of some hefty tax returns, my dear mother, and replacing the “BoGo” addiction with a healthier pastime- window shopping, I was able to beat the credit card demon.


Pictured: broken dreams.
And it feels so good, dear readers. But of course, after such a monumental occasion I really wanted to celebrate with a new pair of shoes…and I won’t lie to you. I bought three. And a tank top…but you better believe this chick paid for ‘em at half off and with cash. So now I am not only one of the very few people in America with no credit card debt and a rating over 750, I might also be one of the last of five people who pay cash for everything.

That's right, I’m officially that crazy lady you have to wait in line behind at the grocery store while she counts out the correct change. Remember that the next time you realize how easy it is to swipe a credit card.

But what if I don’t want to “spring forward?”

Translation: I’ve never fancied myself a springy person. And why the hell do we still observe day light savings time?

Fifteen. We have FIFTEEN clocks in this house (update: make that EIGHTEEN, I missed some of the smaller ones that I didn't know existed like the coffee maker and such. Hidden clocks everywhere!). I think this is partly just for décor and the other half is so that my mother can ensure my stepfather never causes them to be late for anything. I’ve never seen anyone better at the art of people herding than my mother. I can count on one hand the number of times we’ve been late to anything. I’m just thankful none of these instances were ever my fault, for you see I’ve inherited her mad time management skills.

But of course I am the only one home this weekend. So after losing an hour to daylight savings, I will promptly lose another setting all the clocks forward.

So I’m told the majority of the country still observes daylight savings time as a means to conserve energy. I was told so by a person who owns a giant diesel pickup truck and has no concept of the off position on a light switch. The irony in this situation was not lost on me.

While there are many things in this world I do not understand (massive understatement), why the time change happens at 2 a.m. baffles me. Although on the rare and fortuitous occasion you’re in a bar that observes the “fall back” at 2 and gives you an extra hour before cut off time is a glorious experience that I’ve only been a part of once. But it was magical, like seeing a unicorn being ridden by a leprechaun over a rainbow in Narnia. But that could be the hazy booze memory talking.

It would make more sense to switch at midnight, but since no one consulted me on the matter (rude) I guess I just have to deal with it. If this interrupts my regularly scheduled infomercials for the Snazzy Napper or Forever Lazy, letters will be written. Thankfully the powers that be are kind enough to make sure this switch happens on the weekend. It’s nice to know they are somewhat compassionate to the plight of the crabby sleeper. If I don’t get my full eight hours, I get mean (in that I have no problem kicking you when you piss me off instead of using my words. I need those eight hours for witticism potential to be at its maximum zenith).

Arizona’s got the right idea, saying FTW to daylight savings. I also hear you only have to renew your driver’s license once every 50 years there. I think all these things should be incorporated into their state motto, and I bet more people would live there. 125 degrees outside in March you say? Well, I never have to lose an hour in line at the DMV or because it’s time to spring forward. In your FACE.


My graphic artwork is so cutting edge.

"Forbidden fruit creates many jams."

Translation: Well it’s that time of year again…the time when I remember, ‘oh yeah, I’m Catholic…I’ve been doing my job all year by not going to church unless forced to for Christmas or Easter…but I better give up something for Lent so I’m not a total heathen.’

The past few years I have given up quite an array of items during Lent. I’d like to present you a list of some of the random things I have abstained from for 40 days (which is like eight years when you’re as A.D.D. as I am):

Smoking…I’d like to say this one worked, I really would. The whole idea behind Lent is you give it up, with the hope at the end of those 40 days, you can keep on trucking along without it. I tried giving up the smokes for three years in a row, no dice. One random ass day I just decided I didn’t want to smoke anymore, and that’s all she wrote. Haven’t bought a pack in almost a year, and at that point I would only smoke when I drank. Cigarettes were such a dirty vice. Such a smooth, menthol-y delicious vice…wait. Back tracking here, that could be the Screwdriver talking…speaking of…

Drinking…now, I did my fair share of drinking people twice my size under the table on a regular basis from about age 18-23. But when I moved from my bar-riddled hometown, I realized what it felt like to go an entire WEEK without a hangover, and I never looked back. But when I still lived in Angelo, I attempted to give up booze for Lent with about as much success as Kristie Allie had with Jenny Craig. Vodka, I can’t quit you. But now I enjoy your company strictly in moderation, you’re welcome, people I used to drunk text. I’m pretty sure over 50% of the area code 325 entries on TFLN are from me.

Chocolate…I am starting to see a theme here…it’s almost like I want to fail at being Catholic.

Taco Bell…oh dear readers, my love of the Bell is no secret to you all. Last year, I decided to try and up the ante and be healthier with my food choices considering I worked really odd hours. I ate Toxic Hell about three times a week back then, and the decision to give it up was carefully calculated. And I’m proud to say, I did it. Even when my coworkers would bring in the Bell and I had to resist the urge to kill them and eat their burrito, I stayed strong. I abstained from cheesy potatoes until I thought I was going to die. And after Lent was over, I went out, had far too much vodka, and ended up at a Taco Bell for what I might vaguely recall, was one of the best meals I have ever eaten in my life. But I lasted the 40 days! I am finally heading in the right direction. When I’m at those Pearly Gates, I will pinpoint that year of Lent in particular to try and smooth things over.

In keeping with last year’s theme (and prepping for bikini season) I have decided to give up fast food for Lent this year. So as I am preparing a healthy meal of soy-lemon baked pork chops earlier, my mother shoots me a picture message from their road trip to Texas…innocent enough…until I realize the picture is of Chick-fil-a, undoubtedly the best fast food experience EVER. Even over Taco Bell. Quite frankly, if I still lived in Texas I would give up all fast food BUT Chick-fil-a…because they’re good christianly folks who close Sundays so we can take a break from greasy fried chicken goodness and roll our asses into church.


And on the other side of the coin, here are things I wouldn’t mind giving up for 40 days but I fear would be “frowned upon:”
-Shaving
-Wearing makeup
-Manners
-Any and all media coverage of Charlie Sheen
-Michigan driving

My boyfriend has decided to give up shaving for “Mustache March.” It’s an Air Force thing. I told him he should be glad I live clear across the country because if I had to look at him with a hipster pedo stache I’d shave it in his sleep.

..........................................

On a completely unrelated note, I am done with my evil 50 page research project I have been working on the past six weeks, and will be staying put in Michigan for a couple months. So now that my traveling and workload have essentially been nixed, expect to see much more of me. Instead of a ghost of a distant, somewhat funny, but mostly awkward memory, I will be annoying your blogstream at least two times a week. That is a promise. And it's not the vodka talking.


Kat Von Smirnoff just doesn't have quite as nice a ring to it.