Our House

Well hello, old friends, old buddies, old pals. It's been a thousand years since I've written, a veritable millenia, if you will. I have a bunch of good reasons for this, of which I may or may not write about in this post. I honestly haven't decided yet. Let's just all be glad I'm actually writing, shall we?

Yes, yes we shall.

The biggest reason I haven't written was that I MOVED! Into a house! With Eminem! Huzzah!

Yeah, moving sucks. I don't care if you're moving into an awesome house with a great guy with all kinds of rainbows and happiness and unicorn shit, you still end up with lots of boxes everywhere and won't know where all your stuff is for weeks and have to spend money making your house livable. It sucks and it's hard work and it eats up all your time and energy.

Despite all that, however, we are totally happy and the house is just beginning to feel like a home. We still have some boxes left and have a couple spaces to finish nesting and photos to print and hang and I have some crafty projects to complete, but it's just at the point where I feel good about it. I come home and feel like the space is really ours.

Here are some photos of the empty house. I'll share finished photos when it's all done. (please excuse this photographer for taking iPhone photos)

Happy Peoples

We're also decorating in largely orange and grey, which I'm sure has nothing to do with these two:

No we didn't decorate our house to match our cats. Shut up. Only crazy people do that.

Anyways, I suppose that's all for now. Le sigh. Apparently I get burnt out really easily these days.

Happy Halloween! More soon, I promise!

"moving" on

So much has happened since we last talked, Internet! Let's see. What had happened last? I think it was that my crazy roommate turned off my Internet access and you just don't fuck with a girl's Internet.

After that, things happened really, really fast. After a couple of days of simmering and stewing and salting and then adding a dash of paprika, talking with my landlady, I decided to put in my 30 days notice, repercussions be damned. It was such a toxic situation and it was really eating me alive emotionally and psychologically. So on February 1st, I gave my notice to the apartment management and gave bitch roomie a copy (in an envelope left where she would she would find it, locked myself in my room with a chair against the door, and started to feel the tiniest bit happy.

It was like a tiny sliver of light let itself in. Each day has been exponentially better and better since.

I buckled down, started dating Pad Mapper, and found an apartment pretty damn fast. I had to sell my soul to afford it, not the place itself, which I can technically afford and will be saving tons of gas money because it's uber close to my work now, but just the costs of paying rent in two places, deposit, truck rental, etc.

All my money is gone, yo. But money is just money. Whomever said money can't buy happiness clearly never lived with my roommate. A little money can get you out of all kinds of shitsuck situations.

And I had a small hiccup, as always happens with these things, when the management at the new place ran my background check, the found two bad marks on my credit report (which of course shouldn't be there) and wanted to charge me double the deposit. I was like, UM WHAT NOW? Because my only debt should be my student loans and they can't count that against you unless you've defaulted.

So I ran credit reports from all three reporting services, something I'd just done two years before, aka when I moved from California to Oregon, and what do you know? There were two medical bills from a million years ago, from my hometown, and which I was completely unaware of and didn't show up on my report the last time. And did I mention they sent the bills to my mom's house? My crazy, hoarder mom? So those bills are probably still unopened under piles of piles of whatever the hell it is she piles. Sigh. They were also fairly small originally and I could have paid them easily at the time but right now, in the midst of my moving drama and because they've grown with interest, not so easy.

This is why life is fucked. Even when one tries to manage one's income and life in a semi-normal manner, shit like this pops up and tries to screw it all. You know? When I order a screw driver, this is not what I have in mind.

Never to the less, my new manager was a sweetheart and said if I cleared those off my report though, they could decrease my deposit. So I sold my backup soul and have to get it all paid off this week.

So remember above when I said I'm broke, I really mean it. I'm BROKE! Guess who needs to get her taxes done this week and is hoping for a decent return? This girl!

Anyway, I got into the apartment a week ago and moved everything I could all by my lonesome, including all my books (which are the bulk of my possessions, lemmetellya) and I think I lost 20 pounds last weekend, I swear. Then I pulled out my sleeping bag, my bedding, four pillows, and the pad from an Ikea chair, and made a nest for a bed. I brought Hobbes over and we've been staying here since.

Then I got a truck Saturday (and drove a big truck for the first time ever and I drove it like I boss!) and my very best friend, who has moved me like 3 times in the last 2 years, came over to help, along with my favorite coworker Mike and his girlfriend. And this is the best part and why I love good people. Mike just moved out from Boston not long ago and his grilfriend is in town visiting and she'd just gotten in Friday night at like midnght. So what did they do the next morning? They came over and helped me move. This is also the first time I'd met her. Truly awesome people.

On a side note, that new guy I've been dating, the one I met on that one random night? Yeah he said he was gonna help, which he offered to do and I didn't even ask, bee tee dubs, and then just completely flaked out. I got a text from him at like 5 pm or something saying sorry he flaked. Um, yeah. A little late now, buddy. Too bad too. I liked him, but darn it if I also like a little thing like courtesy and respect. Imagine that.

And look at me demanding to be treated well! See, a girl can get out of a toxic, destructive relationship and still reclaim a modicum of respect for herself. Proud of me? You should be.

Oh and I almost skipped a good part! The ex is out of town I guess so I went out to the old bar Friday night and met up with my (our, his) old friends and had a blast. I missed them all a ton more than I realized I guess. Anyway, it was great to see them and they were super sweet.

Back to the story (sorry this post is so rambly), I got all my furniture in yesterday and then unpacked until I passed out. I was really nice to sleep in my bed again, but in a place all my own where I feel safe emotionally. And it was completely delicious waking up this morning. I feel free. Ahhhhh!

I still have to go back and clean, but eh, whatevs. Worth it.

Did I mention my new place has a pool? I'm gonna be so popular this summer.

wherein I expound the levels of my dorkiness

Warning: in this post, I involuntarily outline what a phenomenal and unequivocal OCD dork I am. I say this so your expectations are lowered and you don't expect one iota of cool. If you're looking for cool, go visit some other blog. You'll find none of that here today. Only dorks lay ahead in these waters.

The rest of my stuff arrived! Can I get a huzzah?

Hey, you! Yes. You in the back there. You didn't huzzah. You'll need to huzzah before we can move on. Don't be a loser. Everyone is waiting on you.

Well, it was a little lackluster, but it'll have to do.

Sorry about that, folks. There's always some jackmunch that has to ruin it for the rest of us. *ahem*

Moving on!

Since the epic Starving Asshats debacle has now come to a conclusion, we can commence with the final phase of the moving process: nesting.

I finally received my two bookcases (one tall, one short), my many boxes of books, one box of VHS tapes (because those dance recital videos aren't going to digitize themselves), and my couch.

So naturally I had to spend the rest of the day organizing and finally nesting. I've been unpacking like a madwoman since I got the first batch of my stuff but really couldn't nest until I had everything.

First things first: books. I had to organize the books. That's the most important thing. I could have left everything else in storage (except my bed), but my books (and I guess my bookcases too) are like old friends. I was beginning to miss them.

But how to organize? At my old place, I had them organized by genre and alphabetized within genre (because I'm an OCD wacko and I worked in a bookstore too long).

But that proved problematic for my psyche when I own books by an author within two different genres. I hate breaking up an author. Seriously, it really bothers me. And I love seeing a row of books by one author. It gives me a perverse kind of pleasure.

Like I said: wacko.

So I did one stack of travel and language books, two shelves of anthologies, how-tos, and non-fiction (read: dork) not including biographies or autobiographies, and then alphabetized the rest of the lot.

But it became clear that I didn't have enough shelf space for all my books as I got into M and N. I got rid of a bookcase in my garage sale, but I also got rid of some books, so I thought it would all fit. Wrong.

Wrong wrong wrong. Durf.

So I spent a chunk of invaluabel time figuring out which books to shelve (because one bookshelf was upstairs and one down), running up and down the stairs with books (my ass is gonna be rockin' tomorrow!), deciding what would both keep me sane until I could procure a third bookshelf and be less work in the long run.

Good god I am a remarkable dork!

I eventually decided to work backwards from Z in the upstairs bookshelf and stack the books in the middle of the sorry ass alphabet on the floor. Poor things. Homeless books are just so sad.

Then of course I spent the rest of my day unpacking everything else that was still in boxes, getting the roommates to help me arrange the furniture in our bizarre house, and hanging pictures.

Our place is starting to look like a home!

Thursday or Friday I'll be off to the Ikea to find a bookshelf (I know some people hate Ikea but damn if I don't love it in my panties!).  I need to get a home for those poor, sad, homeless books.

I will find a home for those books. This will not become The Great Homeless Book Debacle of 1994*.

This post participates in:

*Not a real event. I just made it up. But it sounds tragic, doesn't it?

Those Asshat Starving Students

I have my things! Well, most of my things anyway. I have my bed! And last night was the best night's sleep I've had since like July. Ahhhhhhh I love my bed. And my cats are stoked too. They are so happy and have been sleeping and bounding all over the boxes and furniture.

So soft and cozy!

But, like I said, some of my things didn't make it.

And thus it is time to tell the tale of my mountains of crap and the extraordinary logistics of moving it all from So Cal to Portland.

When I decided to move to Portland, I couldn't afford to rent a big truck. I could only afford a trailer. So the plan was to sell most of my stuff off and then hook the trailer to my car (which I want to drive up anyway) and drive it up myself.

My father, however, was extremely worried about leetle ol' me wielding a trailer for 18 hours. And rightfully so. My wielding anything that unwieldy is a frightening proposition. Is the word wield starting to sound weird to anyone else? Wield. Wield. Wield.

Anyway.

He proposed this (and had to really talk me into it): he wanted to hire movers (my dad is a notorious cheapskate so he obv meant business), but in order to do so, would have to borrow against his 401k. But he couldn't do that until August. I was moving in July. In fact,  I had already given notice on my house and at my job. So we decided to put all my crap (still sold some of it) in storage in So Cal and I drove up without it.

In late August, my dad got the funds, waiting for them to clear in his bank, and about 2 weeks ago, started calling moving companies. We chose Starving Students because they seemed nice and were inexpensive (well, in comparison).

I guess you get what you pay for. Let it be known: never hire an asshat company.

They got squirrely pretty early on. First they said they'd call us with a 2-12 day window of when they would pick up and deliver. Ummmm, not okay with me as we all have lives and things to work around. Never mind that my dad would have to take off work and drive 45 minutes to my storage space to open it for them so it makes it hard if we don't have a specific time.

Then they gave him a pickup time last Thursday at noon. When they didn't arrive at noon, my dad called them and they hemmed and hawed, "aw man, we have another pickup, it'll be at 3." So he waited. Until 3. Nothing. They called him, "aw man, it's going to be tomorrow instead." Excuse me? My dad took off work to come down and they couldn't even make the appointment on the same day? He told them as much and they promised to show up the next day.

They did show up that time. BUT (and a very large but indeed), they had picked up someone else's stuff already. The truck was over half full. So then they squeeze my stuff on, but my couch, TV, books, and book shelves wouldn't fit. For the record, my dad had told them how much stuff I had and the dimensions. And if the truck wasn't mostly full, it would've fit.

Now, if it were me, I would've had them unload the truck and said we'd go with another company. But my dad is not me. He figured it was already loaded, so may as well send it down and he'd yell at the company and they'd send the rest for free.

Now, this sounds like a scam to me. They knew my stuff wouldn't fit. And if they'd picked mine up first, someone else would've been screwed instead. And they load it up and go, oh no it doesn't fit! Like you're gonna unload it after that. Bullshit.

I guess my dad talked to them today and threatened litigation (it takes a lot to piss my dad off enough for him to do that) and they were like, "go ahead and sue." So he's calling the supervisor before anything else. But we may end up in small claims court.

But it's not just that. Now I have to pay another month of storage. And if it was just furniture, I'd say sell it. But it's my books. And my picture albums. And yearbooks. I just can't lose those.

So the moral of the story is? Never hire Starving Students! Spread the word.  I'm starting a boycott. Never hire Starving Students!

Because they're total asshats.

This post participates in:

UPDATE: Starving Students agreed to move the rest of my stuff for free if we pay the weight (which we would have paid anyway). Hooray!!

a packing story

Scene: my storage unit in Southern California. It's roughly 1,000 degrees centigrade and I have left my best friend and father to continue shoving my worldly belongings into the 10 x 10 space while I fetch electrolytes so we all don't die.

My father is packing a clear plastic tub in which three brightly wrapped condoms (which I've forgotten to remove) are clearly visible.

He mutters to himself: I hope she wasn't planning on using those after they've been in storage.

He turns around, notices my best friend behind him and says: Please don't tell her I said that.

So of course she did.

Random Thoughts of a Crazy Lady

Today was the first day since Tuesday night that I have felt like a human being. It's a revelation, how incredibly good life feels after feeling like total and utter shit. Right? I even ate the most delicioso salad of my life today. Who knew salad was so damn good, huh? Amazing. Now I think I'll eat some ice cream. I'm crazy like that.


At Disneyland last Sunday, we were walking through New Orleans Square and my future cousin in law John said that considering the kind of guys I like, I should really go to Comic Con someday; I'd meet a guy. I replied with, "I can't help it. I like the nerdy guys." To which a passing guy replied, "I'm nerdy!"


Moving is so damn expensive. How I mentioned this before? OHMIGOD so expensive. That is all.


That said, we got a lot done today. Packed up all my books. Pulled all my photos and art off the walls. All the packing is now feeling doable. Which is exciting. The hardest part is figuring out what I can pack and what I may actually need in the next week and a half. Soooo should I pack Rosie the Vibrator? I may *need* it.


Speaking of which, I should probably put my sexy box in my car before my dad comes down to help me move. Wouldn't want the pop to have to find that. Scar and old man for life. OH and I'm reading Sex for One. Maybe I should pack that up too. My poor father.


If you've never seen Thoroughly Modern Millie, you must. Must must must. Lynnette and I are watching it right now and I honestly don't know how many times I've watching it. I even got to see it on Broadway once with Molly Ringwald (AMAZING!). It's the cutest evah. And and and, it holds wisdom too (for serious): "Millie, while I truly do prefer emeralds, we could've gotten by on green glass." You won't get that quote now, but you will when you watch it. And then you'll go, AH I SEE! Brilliant! That crazy lady knows what the hell she's talking about!