sane.

No more alarm beeps. Phew.

Do you ever ask yourself, "What did I do to end up like this?" Or is that just me...?

downloading woes

I didn't think it would be this hard to download a copy of Radar Love (for a fair-use one time listening of the song only). 4 fake mp3's later, here I am, loveless.

chirp!

The security panel in my apartment must have lost power yesterday (beep) because the sytem light is on. And when the system light is on, the panel beeps about every minute. It's more of a chirping or a squeaking (beep) noise, really. Almost like a rusty gate opening, or a bird yelping in excitement. I tried to get it to stop. I even looked at the oh so in-depth (beep) half page pamphlet of instructions. (beep) Can't figure it out. I'm sure I'll get used to it. Or go insane. (beep) It's like having a pet bird without having to buy crackers. Crackers. That's a good name for a bird. I think I'll (beep) name the security system Crackers. Quiet, Crackers! I'm trying to watch TV! I had a long day at work. What did you do all day?! Nothing but sit there and chirp. Get a (beep) job...don't you talk back to me! I'll fucking rip you out of the wall. Try me, Crackers. Just try me. Because I WOULD LOVE IT!! There, that's showing him.




(beep)......

HELP!

I can't find my Simpsons seasons 1-4 or my Seinfeld DVD's. John, did you steal those from me too?

obligations

I have nothing to blog about, but I told myself I would keep up with it, at least to practice my writing. You'd be surprised how fast your grammar and spelling goes to shit when you aren't in school.

settle a fight

It's simple, tell me your top 3 side orders to go with fried chicken. Then Mallory will see....

up late with my bed

Ever since I've moved apts, my bed has been verrry rickety. My mattress has always been creaky, but for about a month now (holy shit I haven't unpacked after a month) my bed frame has been dinging and clanging with the slightest movement. 2 metal bars would rattle together when I sat up or lied down, so it was always "clang clang clang" this and "clang clang clang" that. No good.

I stood up to it last night about 11:30. Took the whole bed apart and put the frame back together. Made sure it was tighter, all the joints were square and whatnot. But I guess from moving it's slightly bent, so there's still some wiggle room between the bars. I got a bunch of rubber bands and basically lashed the bars to each other so they wouldn't bang together. Problem...severely lessened, but not entirely solved. I may have to get some bungee cords. It's these small victories that give me a sense of triumph.

never help anyone

Filling up my tank for the commute home, when this guy approaches me holding a busted fan belt. He says, "Can you help me out? My wife's over at the Shell station. Our car broke down and we don't have enough to fix our car. Autozone wants (i think he said $25) for the part i need. Can you help me out?" I'm always telling myself that I'm going to help more people, so I convince myself that this is legit and give the guy all my cash - a whopping $11. He pulls out his driver's license and asks if I want to write down his info. I decline. He asks for my number so he can call me, find me and pay me back. Again, I tell him not to worry about it. I pay for my gas, get a carwash, and start to head home. While I'm stopped at the light a block from the Shell station I'm looking around. (this is a marked improvement from my normal habit of dozing off at stoplights.) And who do I see? None other than my new pal walking into the parking lot. Of a convenience store. Alone. Stuffing the fan belt into his pocket.

Duh. I'm a moron. Things I should have picked up on:

1) Why would he walk all the way across the street to the Chevron station where I was. In rush hour plenty of people would be coming into the Shell station where his phantom wife and car were.
2) Who the hell carries around a fan belt?
3) I didn't see any Autozone nearby.
4) Again, if he had priced the belt at Autozone, what would he be doing at the Chevron station across from where his wife and car were? Getting free money, I guess.

Let this be a lesson to you. Never help anyone holding a fan belt. Also, never help parka-wearing old women in Paris who ask for "change" - unless you see their money first. And finally, do not trust South African princes who need help smuggling their money out of the country. Somehow they always lose my email address.

two words...

See Batman

A lewd joke.

Time for bed, but first, I must blog my feelings about today's legal events. They are best expressed by a foul joke I heard from a co-worker:

What do Michael Jackson and caviar have in common?

They're both black and come on little white crackers.

If you have seen any interviews with the jurors, please explain to me what they were thinking. I just don't get it. In the words of Michael, "That's hurtful."

the ONE campaign

Have you seen the adverts for the ONE Campaign? It's a way for celebrities to work off their community service by telling me to donate money to poor people. Granted, I don't know all the ins and outs of the project. And I certainly have a dollar, even several dollars I could spare for people in terrible situations.

But damn, who the hell is Brad Pitt, a guy who makes about 1000x as much as the average person, to ask for donations? All of these celebrities live extremely lavishly. I find myself doubting Mr. Pitt's dedication to wiping out poverty while he's still sinking millions into mansions, vacation homes, and expensive cars. The whole thing is somewhat disingenuous. I can't help but feel like I'm being taken advantage of.

birthday post

Thanks to everyone who wished me a happy birthday, whether by phone, computer, or in-person. It was. Ran some errands and did some tasks during the day with Andy, John, and Paige. Then we and some other folks went to Dave and Busters. Played many a game, won many a ticket, and had a grand ole time. And to finish out the night, Andy and I played NBA Street til 4am. So thanks to those who made it possible. That's 22, count 'em 2-2 down.

new cell phone plan

I got a new cell phone plan. Many things are the same. I've got the same phone. I've got the same number. I've got the same carrier. But now I get a bill every month. Neat.

things that make you go hmmm....

I was waiting in the office to tell them about my leaky ceiling and noxious washer when this kid comes up to me. I know nothing about kids' ages. I'm guessing he was...4,5? Here's an exerpt from our conversation...

Kid: Hello, Goodbye!
Me: Hi...
Kid: Hello
Me: Hi.
Kid: What are you doing?
Me: I've got to get some things fixed in my apartment, so I have to tell them about it.
Kid: I'm going to live here.
Me: All by yourself?
Kid: (whispers) I don't have a Mommy
Me: Oh.
Kid: (whispers) But I'll live here and then I'll have a Mommy. I have a Daddy. His names David.

Nice kid. I wonder why he doesn't have a Mommy.

thoughts til I drop

-I had a bad dream last night, and as far as dreams go it was a pretty long and consistent one. Just about my friends, a party in the house Tim Andy and I lived in, and me not being friends with Caitlin anymore. And it even gave me the dream fakeout. You know, where you wake up in the dream and Dream You says "Was it all a dream?" and then Dream You realizes it's not, it's "real." Good thing I woke up for real....or did I??

-I'm getting fat.

-Caitlin says she sent me a check and a graduation present, but this was almost 2 weeks ago. I'm surprised she's kept up the lie for so long.

-The radio still sucks.

-Andy and I bought the same clothes.

-I eat out way too much.

-I need to find some beautiful babies, because let's face it, I'm money.

SMU Republicans

I spent a bit of time on Facebook yesterday, just sort of clicking from one person to another, one group to another, etc, as you do on Facebook. Lots of SMU sorority girls have their political views listed as conservative or very conservative, and they're in groups such as SMU Republicans and George W is my homeboy. In their interests they even list something about being conservative, Republican, whatever, sandwiched between shopping, the OC, and hangin' with my sistahs or something equally innane.

It drives me crazy that people who haven't had a political thought other than "Bush's ass looks good in his Wranglers" tout their conservative views. They wouldn't know conservative if it bit them on the ass. All they know is that Daddy votes for Bush. Fellow Mustangs, I'm sure you've met (or even are) the type. If you have a political conservation with these people they're very adamant about being conservative, without knowing shit about shit. Can't show them any evidence, arguments, records, or try to convince them in any way. All they know is that "I'm going to vote for [conservative] no matter what you say." They can't defend it. They can't even explain it. They barely know what's going on, but they've already made up their minds and refused to learn more. That's the most frustrating. At least I can take comfort in the fact that young people have the lowest voter turnout of all ages.

movies and music

I'm getting more excited about the new Batman movie. I'm seeing more and more billboards, and last night Batman:Forever was on TV. Edward Nygma is soooo obviously the Riddler. I can't believe Bruce needed secret clues to figure that one out. I forgot how ridiculous that one was. Of course as a comic book movie there's bound to be some amount of ridiculousness, but this was too much. John also made me watch Swingers for the first time, recently. I can't believe I went this long without seeing it. Wow, in reading this post I realize I must have some sort of believing deficciency. Belief-impaired, I am.

As for music, it sucks these days. I listen to the radio because I don't own many CD's, and I spend lots of time skipping around stations until I find something. Usually there's crap on everywhere, and I skip around from song to song so I don't have to listen to any one bad song for very long. This is at least 15 minutes of my drive.

I should use my digimital camera more.

a story of woe

Tomorrow's going to be great. <-- sarcasm) Know how I know? It's 3:45am and I'm awake, even though I start working full-time at my job tomorrow, normal business hours. I'll be starting on 3 hours of sleep. First of all, I had to help John finish moving out of his place tonight. He was supposed to start yesterday morning, but a certain pickup-truck-providing, aloof room mate (Loudon) decided not to answer his phone for over 24 hours. So the whole process was quite delayed. After spending all day cleaning my old apt., I had to come back and help JV move until about midnight.

A shower and a few instant messages later I was ready for bed, until the curse of Ashley kicked in. It took me, me! like an hour to fall asleep. Voodoo magic is a bitch. About 3am I'm having what I thought was a nice little sleep. Then all of a sudden I keep hearing a tapping noise at the foot of my bed. [tap] [tap] "Hmmm, it sounds like something keeps hitting the paper bag full of old newspapers on the floor by my bed," I think. I sit up and pull my sheets away, thinking maybe the fan is blowing them into the paper bag periodically. That's when it hits me. Literally.

[drip!] "WTF?!" I look down. The corner of the bag is wet. I look up. A droplet of water is hanging from the light on my fan. I throw down a trashcan to catch the water and start figuring out what's happening. It's storming outside, but a leak is odd because I'm on the 2nd floor of a 4-story complex. At first I think the neighbors are flooding upstairs, so I put on some shoes to see if they're aware. When I get to the 3rd floor, I see the problem. The complex here is all exposed to the outdoors, motel style. Each unit opens up to a landing w/an outdoor staircase. Well, the 3rd floor layout is different from the second. At the top of the stairs you don't run into another door immediately. You walk down an open-air breezeway and the doors to the units face that.

And in this 4ft-wide breezeway is a big old puddle, directly above where my fan sits. The water is seeping under the wall between the breezeway and the apt. unit on the 3rd floor, running into the structure of the complex, and coming out of the hole in the ceiling where my fan is mounted. Since I just moved in, I realize I don't have the 24-hour maintenance emergency number. (I need to get a copy of my lease, too.) Fuck. I grab a mop and some towels and sweep all the water down the breezeway, off the balcony. I bet it's quite the site to see me flinging broomfulls of water off the balcony in a rainstorm.

So now, no dripping and barely any sleep. Let's hope my next 3 hours in bed are more peaceful.