Aye, the Nerve!

Listen up kids. I am not going to pretend I am rich, or that I drive a fancy car. I am 24 years old and am not able to save any money. For that reason, I drive my boyfriend's old car, a 1990 Honda Accord. It is a stick, I don't have a heart attack if someone dings my door, and it gets about 35 MPG.

Last week, I walked out to my car and found a business card on the windshield for a tow truck company. It did not match the one my building uses, so I called the number to see if anyone was trying to have me towed. The woman I spoke with informed me that no one had called to try to have me towed. And that is when I noticed it. The business card also said "We buy Junk Cars!" I also noticed someone had written their name and phone number on the back of the card.

I asked the woman, still on the phone, "Who is Lacey Goldblum?" She replied, "Oh he is one of ours sales people!"

Me: "Did he seriously leave this card on my car because he thought it was a junker and I'd want to sell it to him? What kind of nerve does this guy have?!"
Lady: "Uh, I am not sure why he left it. I hope he didn't offend you."

Well guess what lady, he did offend me. Do I go around posting signs on unfortunate looking children "We Babysit Ugly Children"? No I don't. Sure the car isn't in the greatest of shape, but it gets great gas mileage and gets me from point A to B.

I know the economy is grim, but should that make it okay for people to ignore common courtesy? I called Lacey back and HE didn't answer. What a skirt.

What Did you EAT!?

My dogs have never been well-behaved and probably never will be. They are dogs. I try to control them, and they get even more out of control much the same way abstinent couples do right after the wedding ceremony. They are friendly, cute and they have never growled or bitten anyone - EVER. So I figure if I have to deal with a chewed up book or them getting into the trash, then so be it.

This was my thinking before Tuesday of this week. I opened the door after a long day of work, only to find my birth control tattered and empty laying on the kitchen floor. My immediate thought was "Those a-holes! Aetna won't let me get another pack when I just got one on SUNDAY!" not "OMG my babies are going to die!" Besides, they seemed fine. I bet after the first two paragraphs, you now have no doubt in your mind I am going to be a great mother.

I called the pharmacy to find out if I could get another pack. No prob. Then I called Poison Control too see if I would be able to have the pleasure of pouring hydrogen peroxide down their throats until they puked. Not even that lucky. Apparently my birth control doesn't have iron in it, which is the only cause for concern when canines try to 'be responsible.' They didn't even get an upset stomach, and they ate 2 weeks + placebo pills.

My boyfriend Mike is definitely a boob man. Tiny Child (this is what he calls Shame) just loves Mike. Trick and I think that Shame was trying to grow boobies so Mike would love her more than me (6 boobies vs 2 boobies) and that Nugget was trying to get a higher octave position in choir. What is wrong with speculation?

Dear Diary: It's Me, Facebook Status Abuser

Dear Fellow Facebook users:

In case you haven't noticed, Facebook is not a diary. You cannot pour your heart out in your status and keep it private - people read it. Lots of people. Some things, I do not want to see. For example:

Issue #1 - Indirect Slam Via Status (ISVS)
I don't want to read your article from www.theknot.com and try to figure out which bridesmaid you are indirectly trying to shame. Also, let's try not to post obviously one-sided material that attacks a few individuals on your friends list. Clearly, it isn't necessary for friends to have the same interests or beliefs. You should be more careful and thoughtful as to what you post. You may not realize it, but someone (your friend, her mother, her sister and dog) is watching.

Issue #2 - Super Duper Boyfriends
If you love someone, more than likely we're your friends and we know about it, so don't splatter idiotic statuses like "OMG MY BF IS SOOOOOOO great." Lots of us have super boyfriends - keep it private. Also, for those of us that don't have boyfriends, we don't really care to hear how great yours is. Besides, my boyfriend could beat up your boyfriend.

Issue #3 - TMI
Listen, my bosses know that Facebook is always up on my computer at work. Point is, when I have downtime, it helps take my mind off of work issues. Under no circumstances do I feel that every moment of my life has to be documented on Facebook. I learned Michael Jackson was dead via Facebook before my CNN ticker even popped up. No one wants to hear "Tying my new shoelaces!" or "Feeding my precious feline Fancy Feast." Take up a new hobby.

Going Forward...
Simply put, a status should be one you can keep for at least a couple hours and isn't going to piss (me) anyone off. Mine - lasts at least a week. It should have an overarching theme. It should be short and to the point.

Come on people. I want to see a funny quote, an inspiring article, or a LOL youtube video. Even a bad joke would be better than what I've been seeing lately. We're adults. You have a problem with someone, tell them, not the 3 million users that Facebook now has. Statuses like the ones listed above are why Facebook should make a "Dislike" option.

Hooker drops crack for cigs and a cell phone

Normally when people ask me for change, a cigarette, a 40 oz., I always politely answer "nope, sorry!" and keep walking. On Saturday, I was going out to see my former boss Tracy who has since been traveling the world. I don't know if it was because the frenzy of excitement to see her was covering up the rational part of my brain, but when this particularly wormy woman asked "Can you do me a favor?" the following ensued.

Wormy Woman: "Can you do me a favor?"
Me: "Let me guess, you want a cigarette?"
Wormy Woman: "Yes, and would you mind if I used your phone?"

I am sure I showed an immediate look of annoyance, while digging around for my phone and cigarettes so this stringer could rape me in the smallest sense. She dialed my phone (of course it was long distance), and while she was talking I handed her my pack of cigs.

Wormy Woman: "Can you pull one out for me?"
Me: "Sure! Did you want me to exhale it into your mouth too?"

Honestly woman, have you looked in a mirror? Does it look like I should be doing you favors? Not only do I have cuter dogs, I am taller and outweigh your drug-addicted body by at least 20 lbs, not to mention my fuse is shorter than your need to shoot-up again.

A normal looking man asked me for 45 cents this morning for the bus. I didn't even look at him.

People say living in NYC changes your life. Welcome to Capitol Hill.

Lucid Dreams = Weird Looks from Pets

First of all, let me apologize. This actually happened on Thursday night/Friday morning.

(Backstory: for any of you that have been living under a rock for the past 2 weeks, there was a supposed terrorist link arrested in a suburb of Denver).

I always dream very vividly, but when I preface sleep with wine I dream very lucidly. With that being said, I laid my head down after chatting with my great boyfriend in anticipation of what dreams would come. I often incorporate sounds from real life into my dreams, so I was dreaming that this 'terrorist' was setting off bombs in downtown Denver. I am sure I was kicking and moving a lot which probably pissed off Shame because it was so lifelike.

Then the big boom came! Rattling windows and shaking walls caused me to wake up (I use the term loosely) throw the covers off my bed, grab my Shame and Nugget and hide in the closet. It took about 30 seconds for me to come out of my sleep and really realize what was happening (plus, Nugget was blinking at me like it should make a 'clink' sound when his eyelids touched, and Shame just had a look of general distaste that was probably eating away at my sleep).

I heard another bang, but this time, it was a familiar sound. Ahh, thunder.

I went back to sleep and dreamed that I was famous and everyone was taking my picture when lightening flashed outside.

Some Short Stories

Ok. Sometimes things happen to me that don't necessitate a whole blog entry. I have put them in a few small paragraphs below.

1. Last week, I was walking to work when I noticed a woman in an electric wheelchair really catching some speed on an uneven sidewalk. For those of you that don't know, those suckers can really haul ass. I moved over to the edge of the sidewalk, thinking she had enough room to get by. Oh no. She wanted to go Bangalore style and ran me off the sidewalk! Whorish.

*Related Story on why I know how fast electric wheelchairs are: My friend Lindsay ZT (shoutout) in college stole Wheel Chair Dave's HoverRound while he was in a local pizza joint, and man that thing could really take off. Even up hill. He didn't really need it, he could walk perfectly fine. The cost of living was so low in Athens, Ohio that he used his money to purchase his 'free' Rascal so he wouldn't have to walk up and down the hills.

2. I was walking my dogs outside and saw a mattress propped up against the dumpster. Written on it was "Don't Use - Bugs." Did I mention this was right outside my bedroom window?

3. Today, same woman. Wet sidewalk. Same speed. Splash. My jeans are wet.

Watch out for that Puddle!

Well I have two interesting stories from the weekend that involve urination in public places (you're thinking, 'only two?' but it has been a bit slow). Here they are:

Story #1 - Saturday September 5th
On Saturday, my best friend Jess, myself and my sexy boyfriend Mike decided it might be fun to partake in the Taste of Colorado. For those of you that are living under a rock or too busy playing WoW (note previous entry), Taste of Colorado is a venue where restaurants and small shops can infiltrate a small section of downtown with overpriced samples and well, junk. Sometimes it is fun, but I always end up hating the crowds and the ignorant/smelly/annoying riff raff that inevitably patrol these types of events, so it got old - real fast.

We all decided to get some ribs and sit in the Civic Center Park. This red-headed gingerbaby (scary enough on its own) was crying non-stop because it had to go to the bathroom and no one would take him. We overheard his mother whisper "pull down your pants, lay on your belly, and pee into the grass." Well. Isn't that charming?

Story #2 - Tuesday, September 8th
I walk to work everyday. It is only about 15 - 20 minutes, but it allows me to blow off any gathered steam from the morning with my a-hole dogs and from the day at work with numerous other a-holes. This particular morning, I was reading and typing on my Blackberry. I noticed a vagabond up ahead of me shuffling around and paid no attention to him. I saw out of my frontal periphery that he had stopped. I didn't realize WHY until I passed him.

He had his pants pulled down around his knees and was pissing on the sidewalk. Please also note that this was at 9am on a Tuesday on a fairly busy road. He wasn't even using his hands to direct his flow of urine. He literally just pulled down his pants and was pissing. When I passed him, he let out a stifled "Oh....SHIT!" but I felt like the more appropriate response was "Oh PISS."

When I reminisced about that special moment, I was happy he didn't splash me with urine and even happier I didn't remember seeing his junk.

Seriously people, if you have to go that bad, find an empty 40oz of King Cobra and fill that up. You could probably even make some money selling it back to the liquor stores. Think about it.

J