Friday, July 31, 2009
Now, in NY, I believe that this system works. Here in Miami, however, if someone tells you they've got a guy, RUN as fast as you can in the opposite direction. That contractor might cost you an arm and a leg, but in the long run, it will be worth it. Let it be known that when we move and my name is on the mortgage/deed, we will not play IGAG.
We've been playing IGAG in the house for sooooo long and more often than not, it's been a mess. First it was IGAG for painting the house. I understand that painting a house is a big project, but these people took FOREVER to get it done!! Oh yeah, and they got crap all over my kitchen window that they didn't bother to clean.
Next round of IGAG puts up the privacy fence around the house. At least a month to get that one done. The fence is still standing though. *knocking on wood, but not the fence*
After the first two rounds of IGAG outside, I was hesitant to play IGAG inside, but again, it wasn't my decision. First stop, the downstairs bathroom. We had been using it more or less as storage. Don't get me wrong, I'm happy to have a second bathroom as no one ever has to rush out of one. And sure, the light fixture is nice and the new toilet is fantastic. But seriously, if you have to fix the toilet less than 2 weeks after it's been installed, you've been IGAG'ed. *sigh*
Our kitchen was a little outdated..still is to be perfectly honest, but we got a little upgrade. Drop ceilings with new ceiling tiles. New sinkage. New fridge, although that's just because the old one died. We even have track lighting in there now. Don't get too happy about it though, because less than 2 weeks after it finally got finished, I went into the kitchen and turned the light on and got nothing. IGAG'ed again. No, it wasn't the breaker or the bulbs, just something the guy screwed up. Oh, and he moved to Naples or Tampa or something, so we've been without an overhead light for MONTHS!
It seems obvious that we might have learned our lesson by now, but guess again.
The house is old and doesn't have central air. This is fine by me because I hate the air conditioner anyway. Well, we have heard from a reliable source that once the A/C gets installed, our electric bill should go way down. I swear to you that this installation process started two months ago. And yes, we've been IGAG'ed again.
The first time the guy came, he didn't have the right stuff. Then he couldn't do it the way he planned. So he left the wrong stuff in my living room where it sat. And sat. And sat. He eventually returned and did one part of the job. Then it sat for a few weeks. Yesterday he returned to "finish". Needless to say, he didn't. He did, however, come in with his partner, make a complete mess of the house (I was dusting and mopping the floor after 10 last night), stink up the house (I know it's hot and all, but dude(!) take a shower!), and the biggest insult was that he used our bathroom. He used our bathroom and missed. Thanks dude. Now I have to mop a stranger's piss at 10pm. I suppose it's better than having the bathroom stink, but have a little common courtesy you fuck. And he still has to come back today to connect the electricity.
I realize that getting a legit contractor in Miami is equivalent to getting me to eat okra/asparagus/liver. Impossible! But man, IGAG isn't much better.
Wednesday, July 29, 2009
Lovey and I have been engaged for about a year and a half now. I guess for some people, the whole process has been a long time, but for others, it's way too short. Can't win 'em all (unless you're the #Steelers - hopefully!)
Sidebar: How awesome would it be for them to have a perfect
season?!?! Who's gonna talk smack then? Seven rings AND a perfect
At various points throughout the process, I've said "Fuck it. Let's just go to the JP." You see, I've never been 'that girl'. The big-princess-wedding-tw0-point-five-kids-white-picket-fence girl. I suppose it's the result of growing up with mostly guys.
I am prepared. If I ever get this nailed down, I have my calligraphy set ready to go as I will do the invites by hand. I might even send them to people that I know won't be able to show up just because they wouldn't believe I was actually getting married otherwise. :-)
I've toyed with the idea of having the wedding at a resort where I used to work in Florida. Dress code = togas. Wedding cake = baked alaska. Lactose intolerance be damned, I'm having baked alaska. Convenient for my family + his family. That idea sorta got chucked although it may get revived.
Another thought in the process is/was Vegas. Keep the togas, change the location. Keep it somewhat low-key (for Vegas, anyway). Airfare is a little bit of a pain though. And hotels. And the organizing. Yikes. Maybe not.
We vacationed in Key West just a few weeks back and almost got married there. This is what happens in KW. You go into a bar and order a drink, er bucket, the big burly biker dude (BBBD) and his new bride ask the bartender why he didn't offer them this drink. He said that we came in and ordered it. (True. I looked it up on their website and knew that I had to participate in this train wreck.) Not to be one-upped by the short black chick and the Cuban dude, they ordered one as well. Then it became a contest to who could throw it down faster. When we were ahead, BBBD said something along the lines of, oh yeah, well we just got married. We countered with we're engaged. BBBD responded with, yeah, but we're married. The bucket almost talked me into going to get married right then and there as not to be one-upped, but I figured that my mom would be pretty pissed if I did it that way.
I believe that, in the end, I have to decide how important it is for people to be there (outside of our families). I don't expect people to drop stuff and fly across the country (for some of them) to attend, but it would be pretty cool. I guess I should make this decision sooner rather than later as I hear that weddings take a while to plan. But when you have your own personal dressmaker (Hi, Mom!) and you have your dress pretty much picked out, I suppose all that's really left is a time and a place.
What say you, dear reader? Resort wedding? Vegas? Take it to the JP and just have a big party afterwards? (no need for household items for gifts, we have enough, lol)
Monday, July 27, 2009
I won't bore you with those details of how it happened, that's for another post, but let's just say that I started off as a bartender and ended up, well, running away and joining the circus.
Have you ever done something one time and then been hooked on it and unable to get it out of your system? That's how the circus got to me. It started off on the flying trapeze, then moved to single trapeze, swinging trapeze, Spanish web, and to a lesser degree, double trapeze. I wanted to learn more. I wanted to fly higher. I wanted to do it all. And I did and it was good.
Here's a little secret: If you want to get in the best shape, possibly of your life, get yourself into some circus classes and take it seriously. It'll take a while, but you will get ripped. There was a point in time where I looked at myself in the mirror and said, "This isn't cute." I was monstrous across the back.
Anywho, the time came when I just couldn't bear to put my liver through another six months of the heavy bag AKA Club Med. There were some great memories and I met some great people, the memories to take, the people to keep in touch with, but the circus! How to take it along?
I found small outlets here and there to get my circus fix. It was never enough. (And it was hardly ever free) I kept at it nonetheless. Because that's what happens when you have an addiction. Both my fiance (Lovey) and my daughter (Kiddo) have given the circus a go-round to some extent. Lovey can do without it; Kiddo loves it although not with my passion. What I really wanted was a way to incorporate family + circus so I can have all the circus I want without the guilt of being away from them.
Two weeks ago, I finally got my wish. In a random conversation, I mentioned that it would be pretty cool if Lovey and I could do double trapeze together. While I expected him to just nod it off, he agreed that it would be pretty neat but said that he was in no shape for it. I told him that I did the majority of the work in the act. But, But, BUT, the conversation got him motivated to get back in the gym! Hooray! And, And, AND, Kiddo is joining in the fun as well!
Now we have family workout/stretching time after work/school and I am well on my way to not running away to join the circus, but instead bringing the circus to me. :-D
Friday, July 24, 2009
Thursday, July 23, 2009
Recently, in large French city, a poster featuring a young, thin and tan woman appeared in the window of a gym. It said:
“THIS SUMMER DO YOU WANT TO BE A MERMAID OR A WHALE?”
A middle aged woman, whose physical characteristics did not match those of the woman on the poster, responded publicly to the question posed by the gym.
To Whom It May Concern:
Whales are always surrounded by friends (dolphins, sea lions, curious humans). They have active sex lives, they get pregnant, and they have adorable baby whales. They have a wonderful time with dolphins, stuffing themselves with shrimp. They play and swim in the seas, seeing wonderful places like Patagonia, the Bering Sea and the coral reefs of Polynesia. Whales are wonderful singers and have even recorded CDs. They are incredible creatures and have virtually no predators other than humans. They are loved, protected and admired by almost everyone in the world.
Mermaids don’t exist. If they did exist, they would be lining up outside the offices of Argentinean psychoanalysts due to identity crisis. Fish or human? They don’t have a sex life because they kill men who get close to them -- not to mention, how could they have sex? Therefore they do not have kids. Not to mention, who wants to get close to a girl who smells like a fish store?
The choice is perfectly clear to me; I want to be a whale.
P.S. We are in an age when media puts into our heads the idea that only skinny people are beautiful, but I prefer to enjoy an ice cream with my kids, a good dinner with a man who makes me shiver and a coffee with my friends. With time, we gain weight because we accumulate so much information and wisdom in our heads that, when there is no more room, it distributes out to the rest of our bodies. So we aren’t heavy, we are enormously cultured, educated, and happy. Beginning today, when I look at my butt in the mirror I will think,”Good gosh, look how smart I am!!”
Wednesday, July 22, 2009
Currently, the grass is growing up pretty high. It's somewhat of a haven for mosquitoes. Granted, we have a 6 foot privacy fence, but those don't deter critters. We haven't made much of a stink about the maintenance of the house because, well, for the most part, we can't see it. But, and there's always a but, something happened to change our point of view.
Let's rewind the clock about a week. Lovey* and I had just returned from vacation. Road weary from our 45 minute trip (yes, that's sarcasm), we entered our abode with plans of putting things away and then resting. First stop, the kitchen to put away the remaining booze.
As I enter the kitchen, the first thing that I notice is that my package of bread is on the floor. Mind you, this isn't a big loaf of bread, it's a small package of round sandwich bread all healthy and stuff. And it's on the floor. Which is not where I left it.
I picked up my bread and wondered why the heck it was on the floor. Lovey took the bag from me and deposited it in the garbage. On the way to the garbage can, however, he noticed that there were some holes in the bag. A mouse. Grrrr.
Now, let me say this. I run a clean house. Yes, it's dusty occasionally and there may be a fur tumbleweed because the dog perpetually sheds, but overall, we're clean and I have never seen a rodent in the house in the 4.5 years that I've been living there.
We don't see our new "house guest" anywhere so we proceed to unpack. Not long goes by before Lovey hears some rustling behind the dryer and it is there we find the culprit. The bread bag chewer. The mouse turd dropper. And it's a tiny little thing. But still, it is not welcome. So we set a mouse trap for the little bugger.
Turns out that it got in through the dryer vent and chewed through the hose! Determined little bastard. Apparently, someone disturbed its habitat next door so it came to see what else it could find. Well, my dear mouse, a mistake you have made.
Don't go all PETA on me here. Lovey decided he would try to shoot the mouse with his BB gun. My only thought was 'man, that thing is gonna EXPLODE!' Fortunately, he missed and the mouse went back to hide. Woo! No cleaning up mouse guts!
A trip to Home Depot for a new dryer vent proved uneventful and we were fairly certain that the mouse had gone back outside, so the vent was installed, the trap was set, and we basically forgot about it. All of this happened on Saturday.
No sign of mousey on Sunday.
Monday morning, I was up early, getting my workout on downstairs. While I was letting the dog do her thing outside, I went to do my thing inside. I turned on the bathroom light and nearly shit myself as what to my wondering eyes did appear? A little brown mouse trying to get out of the toilet. Awwwww. FLUSH!
(Did you think I was gonna pull that thing out of the toilet?!?!)
One courtesy flush later, I was still a little scared to sit on the toilet. Who wants a wet angry mouse to bite their ass?
I think they can swim. I wonder where it ended up. Wherever it is, it has a great mouse story to tell its friends.
Tuesday, July 21, 2009
I'm going to try to keep this updated, particularly through football season (Go Stillers!), but don't yell at me if I slack off. :-)
Not every post will be football related, there will also be plenty of things I just need to get off my chest. You know what really grinds my gears?!?!
Hang on, it's gonna be one hell of a ride!