It's currently 4:11pm. That's exactly two minutes since the last time I checked. And the last time I checked? Was approximately the 500th time check of the day.
Today is going sloooooowly.
I don't know why it is. Perhaps because it's summertime and thus the slowest time at work. Perhaps it's because it's all nice and sunny outside, and I want to be anywhere other than in front of my work computer. Perhaps it's because I'm heading down to the parent's house tonight and I have about 15 things to accomplish before I leave. I dunno. I just know that I can only play so many games of Bejeweled, and I passed that threshold around 2:00pm.
I'm certain I'll be dreaming in blue diamonds and purple triangles tonight.
Given the excitement of my day, I'm sure you can imagine the excitement of my life recently. Basically there's nothing new going on, and thus you get no new blogs.
Oh wait, that's not entirely true. I do leave for vacation in a little over 108 hours, but really, who's counting? I will spare you the drama of how I purchased my ticket and say only that I paid more than I wanted to, but less per person than I saw anywhere else at any time. So at least I can sleep at night. Unfortunately, with vacation so close, my demeanor at work has changed. If a customer calls with a problem, I'm still just as nice and helpful as possible, but internally I'm thinking, "Don't care. Leave for vacation soon. Suck it." Yeah. Luckily customers seem to not be having many problems lately. I think someone up there wants me to actually HAVE a job when I get back.
Oh, and I went to see Public Enemies on Wednesday of this week. I figured that since I've been to Dillinger's grave, I had to go see this movie about his life. I would recommend it as a good movie....just be prepared for more violence and gore than I was originally expecting.* In the last two weeks, I've been asked approximately 5 times where Dillinger's grave is located. One time I actually tried to explain it, and three times I just said I didn't know.** It's just easier that way because trying to tell someone how to find a gravestone in a cemetery is much like trying to tell them how to find a tree in the forest. Next time I'm going to offer to take the person there if they want to give me and my pit bull a ride.
4:24pm
I don't think I've mentioned here that I got a new phone last month. This is the first time in the history of Emily that I've gotten a phone that wasn't the freebie included in renewing your cell phone contract. I've always sworn that I wouldn't pay for a phone (why should I? They give them away for free) and stuck to that when I got this one.*** But I think I may have made a mistake. Honestly, I'm never ever going back to the freebie flip phones. In fact, I may never go back to a phone that doesn't have Windows Mobile. Holy crap am I in love with my phone. It has everything. Addresses, reminders about where I need to be at any given time, a great camera....I'm in love, I tell you. In love.
4:29pm
Classes start one month from today. One. Month. Ah summer, I hardly knew ye. I'm not depressed yet, but I feel a sense of urgency that I need to get stuff done. Like my life is ending in a month or something. Seeing as how I'm taking Organic Chem and Physics II, it might just be.
Okay. I'm sorry for putting you through the boredom of this blog. But at least it helped me kill 19 minutes!! Have a great weekend everyone.
*Telling me, "It's a gangster movie, Emily, what did you expect?" will probably cause you bodily harm. Just ask the boy and he'll go into more detail for you.
**The fifth time I pretended like I only spoke Spanish.
***Rebates are my friend.
Friday, July 24, 2009
Friday, July 17, 2009
Really Jac? The Boy's Side?
I wasn't going to blog about this. But then I realized a few things:
A) the boy doesn't read this blog, even though he knows full well where it is located and that I post about him regularly.
B) I was so horrified last night that I had no CHOICE but to share this story
C) I need reassurance that my plan might actually work.*
So, on a recent field trip, I spent the day with the boy's sister. When discussing how much I dread mowing my lawn (but if I make myself do it regularly it's not such a HUGE deal) she indicated (very strongly) that she, too, hated the yard work. In fact, she hated it so much that she's considered paying the boy to take care of it for her. I was surprised. The boy's sister is usually very mild mannered. To have her express such a strong opinion must mean she really hated the yard work.
At this point, a plan began to take place.
I don't know if I've blogged about this before, but the boy? The boy hates to do dishes. I don't know why. Even when we first began dating, his entire apartment would be spotless....and the sink would be full of dishes.** It hasn't gotten any better. In fact, it's gotten worse. Now it's not just the sink....it's the counters...the stove....basically anywhere that he can put dirty dishes. Ew.
And so I decided that the boy would mow his sister's lawn once a week (and trim every other week) and she would do his dishes. To my surprise, she agreed.*** We ended up deciding that she would only do 90 minutes of work on his dishes/apartment per week - approximately the time it would take him to mow/trim.
What do I get out of this deal? Hmmmm. Well, I was going to be there while the dishes were washed, and once clean, I was going to put them all in boxes for storage in my basement. When all is said and done, I plan for the boy to only have one dish, one bowl, one glass, and one set of silverware.
The idea being, of course, that in that situation he would HAVE to wash the dishes after using them. (Because, though the dirty dishes may lead you to believe that the boy is really really gross**** he won't eat off of a dirty dish.) And if the boy DOESN'T wash the dishes, at least there are only five in the sink as opposed to five hundred.***** And in THAT case, the dreaded chore of doing the dishes is only a 20 minute task at most and not hours and hours of labor.
Because seriously? This is what was LEFT after the boy's sister worked
on his dishes for 90 minutes. An hour and a half of labor, and this is what's LEFT! What you don't see in the picture are the two gross gross gross rubbermaid containers that were left to soak in the hopes of drowning the alien life forms that had grown within them.
See? I'm not dating a guy, I'm raising a toddler.
What's WEIRD is that he'll clean a bathroom until it's spotless (a chore that I HATE) but won't touch dishes. His entire apartment could be sparkling, and he'll consider the job done, even with a sink full of dishes. I don't get this avoidance of dishes. HE HAS A DISHWASHER FOR GOODNESS' SAKE!!
So this is a plea. Tell me this will work. It will work, right? I mean, it will work. All I want is for the boy to keep a decent house. That's all. To show me that he CAN (is willing to?) even if his hand is being held. I don't even mind messy....it's the alien life forms that I mind. (Well, that and that satan dog.) At this point, I wouldn't even mind if he wanted to spend money on disposable dishes. Environment be damned. As long as no one has to be subjected to the "before" view of the dishes ever again.******
*Pretty please?
**Ladies? Consider this your PSA to read the writing on the wall! These tiny little things that you overlook could become a HUGE deal later on. Especially if they're there in the beginning when, you know, he's supposed to be putting his best foot forward.
***In my defense, I really did try to explain exactly how bad the dishes were. But I don't think she really believed that I would get the boy to do her yardwork once per week. Oh ye of little faith. Here's your introduction to the will of Emily.
****And I understand it's easy to think that way.
*****Seriously - the boy ran out of glasses, and used an MARTINI SHAKER to drink out of. He ate out of a DISC THAT'S USED FOR DISC GOLF! THE GUY I'M DATING ATE DINNER OUT OF A GLORIFIED FRISBEE INSTEAD OF WASHING HIS DISHES!!!!
******I didn't post it because, seriously, you guys would judge me for dating a guy who lived like that. Seriously. Your imaginations can't even begin to make up how bad it was. I'll spare you the reality.
A) the boy doesn't read this blog, even though he knows full well where it is located and that I post about him regularly.
B) I was so horrified last night that I had no CHOICE but to share this story
C) I need reassurance that my plan might actually work.*
So, on a recent field trip, I spent the day with the boy's sister. When discussing how much I dread mowing my lawn (but if I make myself do it regularly it's not such a HUGE deal) she indicated (very strongly) that she, too, hated the yard work. In fact, she hated it so much that she's considered paying the boy to take care of it for her. I was surprised. The boy's sister is usually very mild mannered. To have her express such a strong opinion must mean she really hated the yard work.
At this point, a plan began to take place.
I don't know if I've blogged about this before, but the boy? The boy hates to do dishes. I don't know why. Even when we first began dating, his entire apartment would be spotless....and the sink would be full of dishes.** It hasn't gotten any better. In fact, it's gotten worse. Now it's not just the sink....it's the counters...the stove....basically anywhere that he can put dirty dishes. Ew.
And so I decided that the boy would mow his sister's lawn once a week (and trim every other week) and she would do his dishes. To my surprise, she agreed.*** We ended up deciding that she would only do 90 minutes of work on his dishes/apartment per week - approximately the time it would take him to mow/trim.
What do I get out of this deal? Hmmmm. Well, I was going to be there while the dishes were washed, and once clean, I was going to put them all in boxes for storage in my basement. When all is said and done, I plan for the boy to only have one dish, one bowl, one glass, and one set of silverware.
The idea being, of course, that in that situation he would HAVE to wash the dishes after using them. (Because, though the dirty dishes may lead you to believe that the boy is really really gross**** he won't eat off of a dirty dish.) And if the boy DOESN'T wash the dishes, at least there are only five in the sink as opposed to five hundred.***** And in THAT case, the dreaded chore of doing the dishes is only a 20 minute task at most and not hours and hours of labor.
Because seriously? This is what was LEFT after the boy's sister worked
on his dishes for 90 minutes. An hour and a half of labor, and this is what's LEFT! What you don't see in the picture are the two gross gross gross rubbermaid containers that were left to soak in the hopes of drowning the alien life forms that had grown within them.See? I'm not dating a guy, I'm raising a toddler.
What's WEIRD is that he'll clean a bathroom until it's spotless (a chore that I HATE) but won't touch dishes. His entire apartment could be sparkling, and he'll consider the job done, even with a sink full of dishes. I don't get this avoidance of dishes. HE HAS A DISHWASHER FOR GOODNESS' SAKE!!
So this is a plea. Tell me this will work. It will work, right? I mean, it will work. All I want is for the boy to keep a decent house. That's all. To show me that he CAN (is willing to?) even if his hand is being held. I don't even mind messy....it's the alien life forms that I mind. (Well, that and that satan dog.) At this point, I wouldn't even mind if he wanted to spend money on disposable dishes. Environment be damned. As long as no one has to be subjected to the "before" view of the dishes ever again.******
*Pretty please?
**Ladies? Consider this your PSA to read the writing on the wall! These tiny little things that you overlook could become a HUGE deal later on. Especially if they're there in the beginning when, you know, he's supposed to be putting his best foot forward.
***In my defense, I really did try to explain exactly how bad the dishes were. But I don't think she really believed that I would get the boy to do her yardwork once per week. Oh ye of little faith. Here's your introduction to the will of Emily.
****And I understand it's easy to think that way.
*****Seriously - the boy ran out of glasses, and used an MARTINI SHAKER to drink out of. He ate out of a DISC THAT'S USED FOR DISC GOLF! THE GUY I'M DATING ATE DINNER OUT OF A GLORIFIED FRISBEE INSTEAD OF WASHING HIS DISHES!!!!
******I didn't post it because, seriously, you guys would judge me for dating a guy who lived like that. Seriously. Your imaginations can't even begin to make up how bad it was. I'll spare you the reality.
Monday, July 13, 2009
Tough Grrrrrl
Um, so I went into my kitchen this morning and found this in my sink. Trying to crawl OUT of my sink, actually. Luckily, 
the sink was NOT full of dishes, and he couldn't seem to make it up the smooth sides of the stainless steel sink.
There was screaming. Oh yes. There was quite a bit of screaming. Um, the picture has nothing for perspective, but the thing was HUGE. At one point I even put the cat in the sink to see if she could take care of the... problem. Unfortunately she was more interested in eating her breakfast that I had foolishly already served. She assured me that she would be back later, but really, how much do you trust a housecat? She prefers flying insects anyway.
So after much shrieking and some wailing and then considering and rejecting several possibilities for exterminating the bug (i.e. calling the boy (or zlionsfan) at 7:30am to come over and assist) I did what any girl would do in my position. I took a picture for my blog (with mega zoom because there was no way in HELL I was getting close to the bug that I was sure had the single minded purpose of sucking my brain out,) and then turned on the water.
Problem solved.
I won't go into how long it took to drown him. How much of a fight he put up, and how he could actually withstand the highest water pressure I could turn on in my sink. Not only withstand it, but continue crawling forward. Holy Shit!
In related news, I'm moving out tonight. Anyone want to come help me pack?
the sink was NOT full of dishes, and he couldn't seem to make it up the smooth sides of the stainless steel sink.There was screaming. Oh yes. There was quite a bit of screaming. Um, the picture has nothing for perspective, but the thing was HUGE. At one point I even put the cat in the sink to see if she could take care of the... problem. Unfortunately she was more interested in eating her breakfast that I had foolishly already served. She assured me that she would be back later, but really, how much do you trust a housecat? She prefers flying insects anyway.
So after much shrieking and some wailing and then considering and rejecting several possibilities for exterminating the bug (i.e. calling the boy (or zlionsfan) at 7:30am to come over and assist) I did what any girl would do in my position. I took a picture for my blog (with mega zoom because there was no way in HELL I was getting close to the bug that I was sure had the single minded purpose of sucking my brain out,) and then turned on the water.
Problem solved.
I won't go into how long it took to drown him. How much of a fight he put up, and how he could actually withstand the highest water pressure I could turn on in my sink. Not only withstand it, but continue crawling forward. Holy Shit!
In related news, I'm moving out tonight. Anyone want to come help me pack?
Thursday, July 09, 2009
Not Suitable for Children Under 4 Months
Proof that sometimes even I can play nice with adorable baby boys with blue blue eyes who are at the perfect age and have a giggle that makes me want to eat their chubby little cheeks right up.
(Although I must mention that right at this moment he just woke up from his nap and is crying in the next room. That's about when reality sets in again.)
(Although I must mention that right at this moment he just woke up from his nap and is crying in the next room. That's about when reality sets in again.)
Wednesday, July 08, 2009
A Sticking Point
This past weekend the boy and I were trapped in a car together for over six hours. It lead to some interesting conversation.* This is noteworthy not because interesting conversation is usually lacking in our relationship, but more because I thought we had already extensively covered every topic of conversation under the sun. I stand corrected.
We discussed our relationship quite a bit. It was old ground that had already been covered...from our inability to live together (with Satan) and his future career ideas. At one point it came up that I did not want an engagement before I was done with vet school. That gave the boy at LEAST five more years to decide whether or not I was the girl for him.** He asked what would happen if I didn't get into vet school?
"Well, in that case I would kill myself, so there's nothing to worry about."***
"We are certainly non-traditional. That would put us at, what, at least ten years of dating before making it official?"
"Wow... Well, we could always be like Goldie Hawn and Kurt Russell and never get married."
"We can't be like them. Goldie Hawn is a hippie. You're nowhere near being a hippie."
"My dad thinks I am!! Besides, I know I'm not a hippie, but you TOTALLY are. We both know I'm too type A and traditional to be a hippie."
"Traditional?"
"Yeah. I just hide it well. For example, assuming you do propose, I expect you to talk to my dad beforehand."
"I am so NOT asking your dad's permission."
"Um, then I'm not marrying you."
"You're serious?"
"As a heart attack."
"What, you're going pause a moment after I ask you to marry me, and instead of saying yes, you're going to ask whether or not I've spoken to your dad yet?"
"No. I would probably say yes, and then after freaking out, ask you whether or not you spoke to my dad. If you hadn't, I would return the ring."
"Give me a break."
"You've always known I'm a daddy's girl. Don't act all surprised. Besides, I don't expect you to ask permission, per se. Just talk to him. Take him out to dinner. Get him a scotch. You just need his blessing. It's a respect thing."
"Look, I have all the respect in the WORLD for your dad. But I'm not going to ask his permission. I thought that when I spoke to him it would go something like this...."
At that point the boy launched into an eloquent speech that had no hesitations, no repeats and clearly had been thought out and carefully considered.**** I was surprised and touched.***** At the end I said, "What are you talking about? That's perfect. Complete crap, but perfect! Exactly what you should say."
"I know it's not true yet. But someday. Hopefully someday soon. Besides, I have a lot of respect for your dad, and I think he likes me too.****** I don't think he would say no."
".... Well, he probably won't. Of course, if "soon" is within the next five years, he's been given very specific instructions to tell you to bug off."
"Bitch."
"Yeah, I wouldn't recommend calling me that in front of my dad. It might hurt your chances."
*as well as some napping and a lot of Stephen King literature in AudioBook form.
**he said he had already decided. Cute, right? I countered with "I know. Actually, what I'm doing is giving Tyson more time to pass on."
***Melodramatic? Me?
****It was also completely fabricated and bore no semblance of reality.
*****Until I remembered that it was complete bull.
******He does. Now my mom on the other hand....
We discussed our relationship quite a bit. It was old ground that had already been covered...from our inability to live together (with Satan) and his future career ideas. At one point it came up that I did not want an engagement before I was done with vet school. That gave the boy at LEAST five more years to decide whether or not I was the girl for him.** He asked what would happen if I didn't get into vet school?
"Well, in that case I would kill myself, so there's nothing to worry about."***
"We are certainly non-traditional. That would put us at, what, at least ten years of dating before making it official?"
"Wow... Well, we could always be like Goldie Hawn and Kurt Russell and never get married."
"We can't be like them. Goldie Hawn is a hippie. You're nowhere near being a hippie."
"My dad thinks I am!! Besides, I know I'm not a hippie, but you TOTALLY are. We both know I'm too type A and traditional to be a hippie."
"Traditional?"
"Yeah. I just hide it well. For example, assuming you do propose, I expect you to talk to my dad beforehand."
"I am so NOT asking your dad's permission."
"Um, then I'm not marrying you."
"You're serious?"
"As a heart attack."
"What, you're going pause a moment after I ask you to marry me, and instead of saying yes, you're going to ask whether or not I've spoken to your dad yet?"
"No. I would probably say yes, and then after freaking out, ask you whether or not you spoke to my dad. If you hadn't, I would return the ring."
"Give me a break."
"You've always known I'm a daddy's girl. Don't act all surprised. Besides, I don't expect you to ask permission, per se. Just talk to him. Take him out to dinner. Get him a scotch. You just need his blessing. It's a respect thing."
"Look, I have all the respect in the WORLD for your dad. But I'm not going to ask his permission. I thought that when I spoke to him it would go something like this...."
At that point the boy launched into an eloquent speech that had no hesitations, no repeats and clearly had been thought out and carefully considered.**** I was surprised and touched.***** At the end I said, "What are you talking about? That's perfect. Complete crap, but perfect! Exactly what you should say."
"I know it's not true yet. But someday. Hopefully someday soon. Besides, I have a lot of respect for your dad, and I think he likes me too.****** I don't think he would say no."
".... Well, he probably won't. Of course, if "soon" is within the next five years, he's been given very specific instructions to tell you to bug off."
"Bitch."
"Yeah, I wouldn't recommend calling me that in front of my dad. It might hurt your chances."
*as well as some napping and a lot of Stephen King literature in AudioBook form.
**he said he had already decided. Cute, right? I countered with "I know. Actually, what I'm doing is giving Tyson more time to pass on."
***Melodramatic? Me?
****It was also completely fabricated and bore no semblance of reality.
*****Until I remembered that it was complete bull.
******He does. Now my mom on the other hand....
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