Are my Neighbors Immortal?

I found this saved as a draft, but never published. 

 September 25, 2010.  

Every month my Community Association distributes a sad clip-art laden newsletter. When I see the green magazine in my mailbox, I immediately flip to the classified ads. I like to create scenarios to explain the weird shit that my crazy-ass neighbors are pedaling.

Last month there was an ad for a cemetery plot. This bothered me for days... why would someone sell a cemetery plot? Maybe they decided to have their remains cremated. Maybe they were recently married and their spouse had already made arrangements to be buried elsewhere. Maybe they were given a second plot as a gift. Google suggests that people hit by the recession have turned to selling their plots to supplement their income. Maybe they've found the fountain of youth and become immortal.

I still find a community newsletter an odd choice to try to unload a cemetery plot... there must be a better place to advertise this than nestled in between a Treadmill and Ikea dining room set. Also, who buys a cemetery plot from a community newsletter?

So, when I checked my mail this afternoon and saw the newsletter I flipped directly to the Classifieds to see if the item had been re-listed or if one of my other crazy neighbors actually purchased it.

• Engagement ring
• China place settings
• Cemetery plot!
• Child's wheelchair & dirt bike (wait, what?)
• Cemetery plot! 
• Used piano 
• Cemetery plot!

THREE of my neighbors are now selling their funeral plots... I'm tempted to call and ask some questions.

Patios, Puke, and Panties

Back me up here, pet owners, there is one sound that will wake you from the deepest of sleeps. I don't care if you are passed out drunk, under the heavy influence of sleeping aids, or in a damn coma; you hear the cough-gag-retch of your furry four-legged BFF and you bolt straight up and are at full attention.

I can sleep through my alarm, phone ringing, dog jumping on the bed, hurricanes... but that distinct cough-retch-gag... I am UP. This morning it jolted me out of a "sleeping aid + head cold + 3 hrs shitty sleep the night before" slumber. I shot straight up, grabbed Auggie and scrambled. Shit. I'm on the 3rd floor. There is no way in hell I can leash her and get her downstairs in time. What the hell do I do? I've been awake all of 20 seconds, so my thought process is a little off.

I run into the bathroom and held her over the sink. That immediately seemed like a stupid idea. It was. She just wiggled and moved her head around no where in the vicinity of the sink. Think, Dummy! Toilet! I puke in the toilet, why shouldn't a dog?

She didn't like being held over the toilet any more than she liked being aimed over the sink. Bathtub! No... think! Oh, balcony!

I run to the balcony, sling the door open and as soon as she hits the ground- vomit! Yes! I am a genius! A genius in her underwear, standing on the balcony with the loud sounds of doggie vomit to attract the attention of the group of kids in the parking lot.

Good morning.

Ditziest Day Ever

I was down by the Lakewood Summit Compaq Church this morning and thought, "Oh, shit, I bet traffic is going to be ridiculous." Then I remembered it was Saturday. One.

I spent about three hours on the phone trying to find a kennel that would be open tomorrow morning (Sunday) so I could drop off my lil Augster.

I met the nice lady from the shelter so Auggles could get her last round of shots because today is Saturday and that's when she's out in Katy. You would think that all that would have set me straight. Nope.

Then, I took Miss Auggie out to the OKT to borrow my parents' printer and they were on their way out the door to go run errands. (I like to show up unannounced) My dad tells me they're going to renew the registration for my mom's car. "Can you do that on a Sunday?" "It's Saturday." "Oh, yeah. Well, still... can you do that on a Saturday?" Two.

We get back to house and I walk halfway towards the mailbox and turn around and go into the house. Mail doesn't come on Sunday. Three.

I ask Robin how her weekend was. She says, "It's just starting, silly." Oh, yeah. Four.

I check postsecret and am confused/annoyed that they didn't post anything this week. Five.

On my way to Target (second time today, I'm a ditz and forgot pretty much everything I went there to purchase), I drive by the TJ Maxx to see what time they close. 8pm. Lame! Why does everything close so damned early on Sunday? Six.

Thitry minutes later, I'm at Target and Robin texts me to ask what kind of vodka she should buy. I type, "You can't buy liquor on Sunday, you dork"... erase it and send a nicer reply after realizing I am the one that is the dork. Seven.

I literally look at the time as soon as I send the text and head to the front of the store because I think Target is about to close... because I think they close at 9pm. Because I think it's Sunday. Eight.

I drive over to Kohls to see what time they close. 9pm. LAME!

I go across the street to Wal-Mart, park, and realize for the ninth time today that it is SATURDAY and Kohls is still open... turn around and go back over there and buy some cute shoes!

I also nearly panicked this morning when I couldn't find my keys in my purse after valet parking my truck. Later, I spent entirely too much time walking in circles around my house looking for those same keys that turned out to be in my pocket the whole time. (I usually hang them from the deadbolt of the front door) I don't know what my damn problem is... I blame waiting about an hour after I woke up to have coffee.

How to Lose Friends and Alienate People

I'm pumped full of coffee and feel like I should blog. I don't know if anything good will come of it, but I'm going for it anyway.

I know I promised not to talk about the puppy, but I'm breaking that promise to say this: She's being a little butt. 98% of the time she is well behaved and adorable. 2% of the time she is OUT OF CONTROL. Read about it here. Also, she's growing so fast! She's all legs, she looks like an AT-AT Walker. (google it, non-geeks)

The lady I had the interview with last week called me this morning to offer me the job... a week later. I thanked her very much for the opportunity (to call the health department and have her shut down), but declined. She didn't understand. "Why? Did you get another job?" Yes, ma'am. "Don't you think you should have called and let me know?"

"I'm sorry, you said you would call me on Monday with a decision, when I didn't hear from you, I took it as an indication that you had filled the position."

"Well, thanks a lot. You've really put me in a bind here with your inconsideration."

Ok, fuck the high road, I'm done playing nice with this crazy person. "Ma'am, the truth is, I didn't accept another job offer. It's just, with all due respect, I do not feel like I would be a good fit for your establishment."

"This is a really easy job. A monkey could do it. I will train you." If I'm not going to use the high road, I might as well burn the bridge to it. "What?!? No, ma'am. Did you read my resume? Do you remember our interview? I know I am more than qualified for this position. I've managed places that brought in $70,000 weekly. No offense, but I doubt you'll see those numbers annually. Thank you for your time and good luck." I hang up.

WTF? I get up to refill my coffee and my phone rings. You have GOT to be kidding me. At this point all the other things I could have said are running through my head and I'm half tempted to answer and go at it again with her... but, I decide against it. I really wish she had left a voicemail so I could share it.

I hope that lady finds her monkey, I think it would be great friends with her rabbit.

Kitchen Nightmares

Why do people with no restaurant experience open restaurants? This may be the case in other fields also... I don't know. I haven't interviewed out of this field in years. I just came from the worst interview ever with an owner that had no idea what she's doing.

I arrived ten minutes early and she was on the phone, she asked the caller to hold and asks if she can help me. When I introduce myself as her 9am interview, she looks at her watch and sighs. "You're early." The horror! I offer to wait outside if she'd like to finish her call in private. She continues her phone call, shocked, amazed, and annoyed that she cannot obtain a liquor license because she's within 1,000 feet of a school. Uh, first of all... this isn't a new law. Secondly, shouldn't you have looked into that before you bought/leased the property?

I'm browsing the menu and find two typos and a few grammatical headaches, also a few items that I cannot imagine anyone in their right mind ordering. The prices are reasonable. Almost too reasonable to turn a profit. She ends the phone call and is clearly still upset about her liquor license. Maybe this distracted her and resulted in her asking me every question you are not allowed to ask in an interview.

Including, but not limited to: How old are you? Do you have kids? Are you married? Can you work Sundays or do you attend church?

It was amazing. At this point I had already decided I was not interested in working at this establishment, but took the tour with her out of courtesy. There was a pet rabbit in the kitchen. I repeat: there was a LIVE RABBIT in the KITCHEN.

She had told me that the place had been open about a month, but they were waiting until they were fully staffed to 'announce that they existed'. I asked when the Grand Opening would be. "We're already open." Right, I'm sorry. I thought you said you had a soft opening and were planning a Grand Opening. "No. (looks at me like I just kicked her pet rabbit) We're already open. I have flyers I'm going to give out when we're fully staffed." Sigh.

Amazing.

Brace Yourself for Dorkiness Overload

Rhondy got a new web cam. Naturally, I wanted to get in on this. So, I'm calling out Rhondy, Robin (you can use puppets), and Jacey and declaring a video blogging war. Because anything worth doing is worth over doing.



Warning: this is probably only slightly humorous to Rhondy (or maybe to you if you watch hers first, but probably not). If you're at work or around kids, although I was making a conscious effort not to drop the F Bomb, I do say "shit" a few times.



And, of course, the follow up. It's dark. Sorry.



Also, Auggie has been posting videos!

Once again, Not What I Was Hoping For

Let me preface this by saying that I love Robin. Luh-huve her. She is honestly one of the funniest, most creative and intelligent people I know. I'm proud to call her one of my best friends.

Hopefully, you read our IM transcript in which I come across as a complete idiot as Robin's joke goes right over my head. If you haven't read it, please do so before continuing.

Before we signed off last night (the conversation occurred last night, I've been postdating) I tell her that she should take video of Eli jumping for me. So, imagine my excitement when she gets online tonight and tells me she has a video to email me. Excited, right?

Now, imagine my reaction when I see this:



Haha... OH MY GAWD!!!

Ok, Oscar sitting up on her hind legs is stinkin' adorable, there's no denying that.

But, the damn Mexican Jumping Bean isn't frickin' jumping!!! There is absolutely no action in this video outside of camera movement! She might as well had sent me a frickin' picture of the bean!

Hopefully I can try to convince her to try again. Sigh.