Monthly Archives: July 2014

Some stuff on Friday

I ate two tacos and drank three beers and wrote the perfect blog post in my head last night as I was brushing my teeth.  It was epic – what is said, we shall never know.  I really should write these thoughts down, but it’s hard to practice good oral hygiene and write down my random thoughts at the same time.  And usually my moments of literary brilliance come in the shower.  Figures.  

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I found a place to live!  After only 10 1/2 months of my current spot, I am returning to my beloved Southeast D.C.  I just prefer that quadrant.  And would prefer not to burn my current home to the ground, so it’s best I exit as soon as possible.  

I was emailing with my girlfriend about the new place and she said, “But you’ll be so far from H Street!”  Which is the location of our preferred bar hangout.  And by far she means like 9 blocks instead of 3.  

“I know,” I said, “but I’ll be so much closer to my gym.”  We both agreed that was the grossest thing I’ve ever said. 

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When you’re Craig’s List househunting in D.C. everyone has extremely pointed questions with a mild to extremely traumatic story behind it that mostly baffles all common sense.  

My questions: How many days should a pot of chili soak on the stove?  (3 hours – tops.)  Do pizza boxes EVER belong on the living room floor – let alone for 24+ hours?  (No.)  How many days do you think it’s acceptable for bags of garbage that includes your untrained dog’s pee pads to be left on the back sun porch?  (Fucking gross.)  You spill half a pot of spaghetti on the stove – how do you respond?!  (Clean it up!)

New roommate:  If we run out of toilet paper for our shared bathroom, you….  (Buy more!)  Would you ever leave all the windows open downstairs when no one is home and only lock the door knob lock and not the deadbolt?  (Nope – getting burgled sounds like zero fun.)  What’s your conflict resolution style?  (Passive-aggressive as fuck!  Just kidding, that’s only when I almost step in your dog’s shit on the kitchen floor at 7am*.  Usually I converse with people about my issues like a fucking adult.)

All that other life shit – TBD.  Have a good weekend y’all!  

*I’ve made so many jokes about letting my roommate’s dog and bipolar cat (the one that likes to curl up on your lap, snuggle her head into your hand and then promptly bites you) out into the wild to see if they survive that if I did ever accidentally lose them, I’d never be believed.  Ever. 

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26 Going On…

I’ll be turning 27 next week.  I think that means I’m in my late twenties now instead of my mid-twenties.  My friend said to me the other day, “We’ll be in our thirties the next time we watch the World Cup.”  We did a collective shudder of our bodies and took a sip of wine.

I’ve been in D.C. now for over 5 1/2 years.  Over the course of those years and months I’ve had four jobs and three apartments and 14 different roommates.  I’m moving next month again, by the way, hopefully to a home absent of a tiny little dog that barks incessantly and often shits on the kitchen floor.  Where – that’s to be determined.  Luckily I am old enough now to have many friends with spare bedrooms, so me and my large collection of shoes won’t be temporarily without a home.

Being an adult – I think we can all agree it’s overrated.

I’ve got a good job and a savings account and a Roth IRA that I (un)wisely maxed out last year because I’m smart enough to save money each month.  But not always smart enough to resist large purchases like an adorable Vespa that I 100% don’t need so it’s best to get rid of all that cash.

I’ve got this pinched nerve in my neck that flares up during moments of stress or poor sleep or after 1 1/2 long hour bike rides on gorgeous Friday afternoons when I’ve called in sick to work and miraculously recovered around 2pm.  I’m diligently continuing my post-puberty battle with acne.  I don’t always remember the old adage “beer before liquor, never been sicker.”  Sometimes I chase a session at the gym with chicken tenders and french fries and beer.  Sometimes a salad and an early bedtime.

My friend told me once that as a child, she thought 24 was the perfect age to get married.  I recall being shocked the perfect age to get married was something I was supposed to think about – as a child or really ever.  Is that something I’m supposed to be thinking about?

So what exactly am I supposed to have learned by 27?  Besides that I hope to never never run for exercise ever again and I still think lima beans are fucking gross and you really should drink a shit ton of water every day.  That you should always use “I” statements instead of “you” statements when arguing, I look terrible in the color yellow and perfecting your early 2000s Pandora rap station is a valiant accomplishment.

There could be some hard and fast changes in the next month or so in addition to where I sleep at night.  There could be none.  Vague, I know.  But I’m one to worry about the jinx.

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10 on Thursday

1.  I was in Minnesota – specifically at my mom’s cabin in bum fuck USA – for five whole days last week.  And guys, it’s amazing how much my shoulders can relax when I’m standing on a dock looking at a gorgeous lake with a beer in my hand and polar fleece on my person and the firm knowledge that my mom is cooking me dinner at that very moment.  Because my mom is the best like that.

2.  Backstory: So my mother suffers from a crippling fear of missing anything fun ever.  She decided it would “probably be best” to fly from Minnesota to Atlanta where I was meeting my aunt and cousin this spring and drive the 4 1/2 hours with us to Nashville for a little mother-daughter bonding trip just in case.  Read: What if her flight got canceled because it never ever stopped snowing in Minnesota this winter and we had fun without her?!

So on Friday night we were all sitting around the fire at the cabin on her extremely comfortable outdoor furniture.  We had just consumed a delicious dinner, taken a delightful sauna and dip in the lake and were shooting the shit and enjoying a cocktail.  And mom falls asleep.

Now if you try to wake her up she just tells you she’s resting her eyes or she’s still listening, so we’ve learned to just let her hang out.  Plus she has insomnia like whoa, so she needs her sleep where she can get it.  Being the super lovely children that we are, we debated the pros and cons of drawing a penis on her face for a while (OK, we might have had more than one cocktail), but eventually decided against it.  Partially because it’s extremely unkind but mostly because we didn’t want to risk her refusing to cook us breakfast in the morning.  And mom makes a slammin’ breakfast.

Super sorry, mom.

3.  Proof she makes a slammin’ breakfast – one morning she made homemade waffles and turned them into sandwiches with honey ham and dijon mustard.  I highly recommend it for your breakfast pleasure.

4.  Do y’all know what loons are on the East Coast?  If not, this is a loon.  Also known as the other Minnesota state bird – besides mosquitoes.  They are very cute and have a lovely call that is very calming for us Minnesota kids.

loon

So cousin Josephine, brother Tim and I are all swimming in the lake on Saturday and Tim’s Jack Russell Mila decides she desperately wants to get in the fun while simultaneously being terrified.  She buckled to peer pressure (all of us yelling “Mila, come here!”) from various parts of the lake and jumped in.

On the way back she seemed to regret her decision and jumped up on Josephine like a baby loon to hitch a ride.  She later tried to do this to me when I was swimming without the use of any flotation device by climbing on my head and we both went under.

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5.  My mom’s cousin wrote this book – go buy it!  Here is the link directly to the Amazon page!  I gave it to two of my co-workers for their young daughters and then was like by the way – the main character lives in a funeral home.  Hope you don’t think that’s too weird!  Bye!

6.  I’ve had this song stuck in my head all week.

I’m bored now and need to get back to work.  Hope everyone had a nice 4th of July!

Side note – I hit publish by accident before I’d even read the damn thing, but it’s now been at least read over once but still not really proofed.

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