Embracing the Complainer in Me

Yeah It Felt A Little Like This...

A couple days ago, I did something.  Something I actually don’t even regret, but I am impressed that it got results.

Quick Backstory: My soon to be former roommates are trying to get into a two bedroom, with a much lower rent, but were denied- even when I consigned on the apartment.  The management’s suggestion?  Renew the current three bedroom lease, oh and by the way we are raising your rent.  Jerks.

So we had sort of resigned ourselves to this situation: I’d be leaving the 3 bedroom, but renewing the lease and the two guys would be responsible for covering the rent.  Yet when we went in to sign the paperwork something seemed to snap inside of me. Maybe it was the smug way they seemed to treat us, or the fact that we kept getting a lot of double speak from them, or maybe my man period started right that moment.  I don’t know… I’m not a doctor.  But what I do know is that I asked for a manager.

I know. I winced writing that just like I’m sure you did reading it.

I wasn’t planning on doing this, but it was happening all too quickly.  Suddenly the words that were coming out of my mouth were used to paint a vivid picture of bait and switch, terrible double standards, and a monolithic company who had our collective balls in a vice and expected us to be grateful for the opportunity.  I wanted to let the people in that office know that I wasn’t just displeased, I was damn mad.

I was angry that they didn’t even seem to care that they were putting my friends (the family I chose), in a financial bind.  Angry that they didn’t care one of the roommates had lived in that complex for 10 years and had brought them new business.  But most of all I was steamed that they merely said “I’m sorry sirs, it is just our policy.”  That is not even close to an apology, it is a weak excuse.

After I had made it very clear how much the situation had unsettled me, the associate asked what they could do to help with the situation.  Honestly, that had not been the point of the rant.  All their moaning about how their policy couldn’t be bent had left me with just the intention of venting some of bile they had helped create, but it was an unexpected but very welcome opportunity.  Asking what they could do was a step in the right direction.  It was saying they actually were sorry about this iron clad policy, maybe there is another policy that I can bend for you to make the stay more comfortable.  You know something that wouldn’t undo the fabric of space and time.

And you know what we found out a couple days later?  Apparently that policy that couldn’t be bent at all?  The one that seemed like the bedrock of their foundation and any attempt at molding it would bring down the very sky above us all?  They were able to break it so the roommates could move in to the 2 bedroom as long as I co-signed, just as we had wanted.

The moral of this story?  Sometimes you have to be that dissatisfied customer who is willing to make a statement even if there seems like there is nothing to gain.  And you should definitely expect nothing, but on rare occasions, people will really hear you and come through in a way in which, even they didn’t think was possible.

2010
07/21
CATEGORY
Uncategorized
TAGS


Write comment

Flashing, Flashing… Lights, Lights

This shot may cause you to stand on bar stools to win an auction, and puke in you're daughter's van.

A couple weeks back, the Professor and I made a quick trip to Shreveport.  The goal of which was to see my family: my sister who was moving away to Chicago in a couple weeks, and my uncle who I hadn’t seen in a while.  Also, there had been the promise of a bit of entertainment where someone was to act out the wire hanger scene from Mommie Dearest, but that fell through at the last minute.  So needless to say I was a little disappointed (Had you grown up in my house you would have an almost morbid joy when you watched that movie, since it was watched almost once a month).

But the trip was still on and it would be a big one.  Professor would finally meet the Sister.  Mostly, though this would be the first trip the Professor and I had taken. A HUGE milestone.

It took about… 7 hours to drive there.

You remember how I used the word quick earlier?  I think I am suffering from that same type of amnesia that women get after having given birth.  They can’t imagine the process to be as bad as really was.  In theory this would be the only way a woman would put herself through that kind of pain not once but 19 times.  Which is to say, I’m sure the drive seemed like it would never end, but looking back, it really doesn’t seem like it could be that bad at all.

The day following our arrival was great.  The Professor and I spent the afternoon with family, then we stopped by the casinos and played some slot machines.  My beginners luck was in full swing.  I ended up winning about $340 dollars, which went directly into paying for the plane ticket for a trip in August.

But that night… That night was unforgettable.  We (Sister, Professor, Dad, Mom, Me, Uncle) went to a bar that Uncle owns, which meant free drinks all night.  My sister and I definitely expected to have some liquor and share in a night of drunken stories and laughter with Dad while Mom sipped on some weaker drinks, and cringed when we got a little embarassing.

Then I did something my father will likely never forgive me for.  I suggested we do a shot.  I really wanted my mom to participate, and since she doesn’t drink much alcohol due to the taste, and not because she is prudish, I suggested the most delicious shot I could think of.  Buttery Nipples.

And ya’ll, let me tell you.  My mother loved them. In fact, she loved them so much, she did eight shots of them.

Let me repeat that.  My mother, this tiny woman who almost never has a cocktail, did eight buttery nipples over the course of maybe 3-4 hours.  The transformation was like night and day.  She was standing on bar stools, dancing(she is typically very shy) with my dad, and giving slopping kisses to me on my cheek saying how proud she was of me(my heart melted at this naturally).  And of course, puking in the car back to the hotel, and till she fell asleep back at the hotel room, and apoogizing profusely to Professor since she never gets like this.

Needless to say they didn’t make it to brunch like we had originally planned. But it was so worth it to see Mom let her hair down and have some fun that she would later regret.

So, after a fun filled vacation, and a 7 hour drive-each way, some drunken debauchery, coming home with more money than we left, and most importantly knowing we can survive hours upon hours while confined in a small space- I would consider this trip a success.

2010
07/19
CATEGORY
Uncategorized
TAGS

Write comment

Rejected: The Creator of Shrinky Dinks, Demonstrates Her Product to the Milton Bradley Board of Directors

Good afternoon gentlemen, my name is Betty Morris.  I must first start off by saying how proud I am to be showing you, the board of directors for Milton Bradley, this creation of mine.  Well mine and Kathryn’s, but really all she ever did for the project was to color the plastic.  And let us just be honest for a moment, my sweet little boys manage to do better, and one of them (bless his heart) has a touch of the epilepsy. But regardless of who contributed the most to this endeavor, I would like to present to you: Shrinky Dinks!

What’s that Kathryn? Don’t be silly, we loved the name and you seemed very agreeable to it last night.  And you can’t keep using your drinking as an excuse to not honor a contract agreement.  A verbal contract still counts in a number of place darling. Read more

2010
07/15
CATEGORY
Uncategorized
TAGS



Write comment

The Devil’s Combo

Beware The Cursed Items That Add Up To $6.66!

I think almost everyone here knows what the above title alludes to.  We’ve all done it.  You walk into a store minding you’re own business looking for a specific item or combination of items.  It could be anything really: A pair of scissors and tape, Gum and a lightbulb, a bowl for blood sacrifices and a tiny athamé, whatever.  You come to the check out with your little odds and ends and then BAM!  Your price comes out to $6.66.

I bet you didn’t realize you were doing the devil’s work by completing your purchase all at once.  But sadly, you realize almost your entire day must have been guided by his tiny pointed fingers.

This morning at my local McDonald’s, I fell victim to the devil’s nefarious scheme.  Admittedly, I pretty much knew that the sausage, egg and cheese biscuit with added bacon along with that McGriddle were evil to begin with.  But I didn’t realize they were that evil.

That didn’t stop me from buying it, naturally.  I figured at that point I needed to accept it and eat all of it as a penance.  I knew what I was doing was wrong, but if I didn’t eat those two items, then some poor soul somewhere else might have eaten them.  I couldn’t have that on my conscience.

And, while I savored every sinful bite of that moist McGriddle and that biscuit, I know that someday I may have to answer for that purchase, maybe not at the pearly gates, but someday soon, in a bathroom somewhere.  And you can rest assured that I will repent that order, and will have long forgotten how sweet and savory that hell inspired meal was.

2010
07/15
CATEGORY
Uncategorized
TAGS

Write comment

Ta Ta Ta Talking that Blah Blah Blah…

I have a post in the works about this past weekend about my trip to the Southern Version of Vegas. However, to help whet your appetite here is good little conversation snippet from the road trip back with the Professor.
~~~
Me: “So I was thinking that when I move in we’ll put my PS3 in the bedroom.  This way we have a DVD player and a Blu-Ray player in there.  Then we can just take your DVD player and put it in the living room.  You are always saying you wish one was out there.  Sound good?”

Professor: “Yeah.  But I think maybe we should put my DVD player in the living room, since we’ll have your game thing in the bedroom. What do you think?”

Me (dripping with sarcasm): “Yeah, I think that’s an amazing idea!”

Professor: (oblivious to the sarcasm)

Me:  ”…You didn’t pay attention to anything I just said did you?”

Professor: “Why, what did you say?”
~~~
What is very weird about allllll that, is that right at the end of this little conversation I just sort of over flowed with all sorts of warm fuzzy feelings.  It was completely nauseating.

2010
06/15
CATEGORY
Uncategorized
TAGS
Write comment

Shoot Them in the Brains… You Zombie Killers!

Last night I had a strange and vivd dream.

 I was in some sort of post-apocalyptic dystopia.  A place and time where huge cities, some quasi-futuristic with sweeping towers and holographic screens that still flickered into life, and some startlingly familiar looking places (especially the strip mall), were practically devoid of people, abandoned.

Almost every place I visited had that sad look and hollow sound that only sets in after years of disuse. There was a cold feel that only emerges after people move away.  The cities were still in that transition time where it had lost the vitality it once had but nature hadn’t attempted to reclaim the land.  Cities and buildings were simply large mausoleums, structures and places that showed how high we had ascended and how quickly we had been dispersed.  Apparently, I and an ever changing group of people were the last people who had managed to survive the brunt of a zombie nightmare.

That’s right.  I was in a real life(dream) zombie fest, and I have zero clue how I hadn’t managed to be eaten/infected.  After all, my cardio is clearly not up to snuff, and I have never really handled a weapon.  Yet there I was one of the remaining members of humanity.  Even during the dream I don’t remember really killing any zombies.  Though I do remember picking up a golf bag and selecting a couple long weapons: a baseball bat, a couple golf clubs, and some sort of pole.

The parts that I still remember were the exploring the cities for anything that could help us stay alive, I remember, also directing people into their positions when we were pinned down on an upper story of a building and trying to get down the stairwell. That was pretty intense.  There was also that time at the strip mall where a group of us had managed to scramble on top of the roof of a restroom, while we waited for the rest of the group to arrive and help.

The sad part of every dream, no matter how clearly you saw it, is that it always starts to fade as soon as you wake.  Even now while I write this I had to really make an effort to piece together the events of the dream.  And it was actually a fun dream.  I felt really accomplished in that world.  Though I guess when the bar is set to the point where waking up to a new day is the threshold for success, the dream was just trying to help me continue a lazy streak.

But I guess the point of this post is something important that I wanted to share with you all:  if you eat a huge meal consisting of chili cheese hot dogs right before going to bed, you are likely going to dream about flesh eating abominations.

2010
06/04
CATEGORY
Uncategorized
TAGS
Write comment

Aaah… L’amour!

Now, for the final update segment.  Something I’m sure a number of you have been waiting for.  So get off those tenterhooks (look it up it’s a from real phrase).  I will now sate some of your curiosity.

For almost 8 months I’ve been officially dating the Professor.  That’s like almost 3 years in gay time, so this is kind of big news.  Since we’ve been seeing each other it has been pretty much fantastic.  We talk almost every day, and have even set up Wed or Thur as a semi official date night.

He makes me think all those cutesy love-struck things that, if taken out of the context of a relationship would see really creepy.  I think this card really gets this across the best:

“If i had a big enough needle, i’d stitch our skin together while you were asleep so that when you woke up, we were like one person. one big happy deformed person. ”

I plan on sending that to him at 1 year with the tip of my pinky in a velour box.  You know a little something that says: I thought of you and wanted to show you how much, and if you ever leave me… well you would never do that, would you?

Romantic, no?  But humor aside, he’s a pretty amazing person.  He is actually really fit (which if you knew me you’d realize how weird it is for me to be dating someone that knows how to pronounce, much less do, more than 3 different exercises), but he doesn’t push me in an obnoxious way to change my lazy ways.    Very book smart, but sometimes a little naive.  And incredibly thoughtful about my friends. We also get along very well.  We have some great conversation about serious topics, like how to handle Immigration policies, and those that may not be so serious, like how ducks never chew their food they just sort of choke it down.

So that is the run-down with my love interest.  If I refer to him in my posts now you know who he is, and why some descriptions may look like the written equivalent to Vaseline on a camera lens.  All fuzzy, and soft.

2010
06/02
CATEGORY
Uncategorized
TAGS
Write comment

Not Dead Yet- 1

Those stories about the light being warm and inviting were all true.  I felt like I had just had a really really good massage, completely relaxed and at ease.  Then came the part you never hear about.
The light recedes, and you are stuck in a waiting room.  Don’t get me wrong it was really nice.  The chairs were super comfortable, with great support and they reclined.  There were magazines on the table, current magazines, soft and complimenting lighting, a great view from the windows, and the vending machine didn’t require any money.  Apparently M&M’s are still a hit in the afterlife.
I walked up to what I thought was the Reception desk.
“Excuse me-” I started.
“Just a moment sir.” The woman replied a little shortly.  Her red hair done in a 60’s beehive.  She would’ve been prettier if she smiled, though looking at the frown lines around her lips I doubted she did it often. 
After a couple minutes she called out, “Peters, Anderson.  Head to room 32!”  Her head followed something that I couldn’t see.  “Alright sir. How can I help you?”
“Well, I mean, I guess I’m dead, and I went into the light and everything… so what do I do now?”
“You take a number.” She pointed to a pull tape just like the ones from banks and deli’s.  
“Seriously?  There’s a wait in Heaven?”
“Honey,” the redhead, her nametag read Hope, clearly given by some ironic or idealistic parents. “This ain’t Heaven.”
“What, the white walls, and the etherial glow, and the whole white light thing are for people who go to Hell?”
“Sir, this isn’t Hell either.” She was clearly getting a little annoyed, the way her “sir” had been sort of sighed.
“Well where am I then?  I think I deserve to know!” Getting a little worked up wasn’t helping the situation, and thinking back on it I probably should have been nicer.  I had worked in a call center and I remember how much I hated helping people who were complete douches.
“You are in a waiting room, sir.  So you need to wait.  You don’t look deaf, so take a number and have a seat.  You don’t want me to call security, sir.” Judging by the glint in her eye, I bet she wanted nothing more than to call security, but I took the hint, and grabbed a number.
I was so confused.  Here I am, four days dead, and I am told I had to wait to be seen for whatever needed to happen for my afterlife.  So, I sat down in one of the chairs, after grabbing some candy from the vending machine.   I shuddered to think I might be sitting in the same seat as another person no matter who invisible and intangible they might be, but since there was no real way of telling I might as well rest and relax. The seats really were a quite nice, probably a fake suede but very comfy.  I looked down at my ticket: 42.  Douglas Adams would be proud of himself.
I couldn’t see any number board so I wasn’t sure if my wait would be long.
I appeared to be the only person there.  Well except for Hope, but really calling that shrew a person would be generous.
Eventually, probably after an hour or so, I heard a ding from above, and a sweet voice called out: “42.”  The ceiling looked like clouds so I’m not sure if the speaker was hidden or something.
I went up to Hope, took a breath and tapped on her desk.
“Excuse me, Hope.  They just called my number, where should I go?”
“You don’t go anywhere yet.  You Americans are all go, go, go even in death.  Just give me the number ticket and I take your name.”
I handed the woman my ticket, and told her, Jake Gilbert Koss.  She took a moment to enter some details into what looked like a relic of a computer system.  This day was getting just so weird.
“Alright, please have a seat till I call your name, then proceed to the room I tell you down that hall.”  She pointed to a bunch of clouds that split to reveal a long hallway.
I let out a sigh and returned to the chair.  This was getting old, very fast.  I waited for probably another hour, though ever since I had died my sense of time had been slipping  a little, that and the fact that I may or may not have had a short nap, at one point.  I turned my gaze to the windows, and saw a bright blue sky, a lone cloud drifted by.
“I wonder if that is the equivalent of a car here,” I wondered out loud.  I would have pondered that one a little more, but apparently my time waiting was up.
“Koss, Jake!” Barked Hope. ”Head to Room 26.”
2010
05/31
CATEGORY
Uncategorized
TAGS

Write comment

He drank Pepto, and saw that it was good…

Picking up where our adventurer had just left off…
I had just waved to my parents while they drove back to their own home, after a wonderful brunch with them.
I spent the rest of that day/evening in recovery mode.  Family visits, even when they go smooth as butter like this one, are just a liiiiiitle bit stressful.  I was exhausted.  Don’t get me wrong apart from the Museum and the Awful Sushi, it really was a lot of fun.  Actually it was shockingly fun to hang out with my parents, I just hope that never gets around to my 13-year-old self.  But even though it was fun it was still just a little bit stressful.  And Monday morning I found out that the stress must have been keeping my stomach cramps at bay or was the reason that the “situation” had lasted so long (about 5 days).
I woke up feeling like how I assume that one guy must have felt just when the alien popped out of his stomach.  Between the pain and the resulting … follow-up, I had to call in to work because I don’t think I could’ve made it through the two minute drive to work without a toilet in my car.
The cramps were so painful I even called the nurseline to see if I might need to go to the ER.  Apparently the message was, if they don’t get better in a week, then go see someone, otherwise tough it out with some water and white bread. But I trusted them, and spent the day eating peanut butter and jelly sandwiches and drinking three liters of Smart Water.  And when I went to bed that night, I was exhausted.  It was as if I had run a marathon… with my butt.
The next day was a little iffy, but if I might compare the two:  I would say Monday was like someone had fed me sharp rocks in an effort to polish them, and Tuesday was like little butterflies were flapping their wings in my stomach.  One was basically me-laying-on-my-couch-and-just-praying-for-the-sweet-release-of-death pain, and the other was I’m-so-over-the-whole-stomach-thing-and-ready-to-go-to-work-already irritation.
The moral of that story?  If you are sick, take the time off and just rest already.  Pushing through the illness just makes it last 5 times longer.
Final Catch Up Segment:  The Professor 101
2010
05/31
CATEGORY
Uncategorized
TAGS


Write comment

And Mommy and Daddy make Three (sometimes four)!

So where did I leave off.  Oh yes…the cramps.

Initially they weren’t too painful, just really, really inconvenient.  Meaning I had to strategically plan my day around available restrooms, and pop immodium like mints.  After all, my parents were visiting, which meant they would meet the Professor (later! I really super special awesome promise to get into that later).  And so help me, I was not passing up the opportunity to have my boyfriend meet my parents in an official capacity.  I could have been passing a kidney stone, hunted by the CIA, and sent to an alternate dimension where the only way to return home would have meant chopping off my pinky toes, and I would’ve still managed to get my parents and him to meet.

And it went great!  The Professor was of course as sweet as peaches as always, I was able to finally pay for my parent’s dinner (this way my parents and I are soooooort of even for the 18 years they fed and sheltered me), later we had coffee and desert at Dulce Vita, and really I couldn’t have asked for much more from the evening.  My parents both said they really liked the Professor, and barring the fact that I know they lied to me when I was younger (Santa and the Easter Bunny, anyone?) I’m pretty certain they were being honest.  If you knew my mother, you would understand that she has no qualms about saying how she feels about someone, something I’ve always admired of her.
Then the next afternoon (minus the Professor) my parents and I went to Museum, which was kinda meh, and an alright sushi place.  Honestly, because my stomach was acting up I think I may have judged the restaurant too harshly but seriously, I shouldn’t have to nearly choke on the rice while trying to swallow my fish.   That place’s real saving grace was that my parents seemed to enjoy the seaweed salad.  I always love to see my parent’s try different food, and admittedly, they have become more adventurous as I’ve gotten older, but that they liked the seaweed thing was a very pleasant surprise.

And then the highlight of the evening: we made the trip down to a comedy/musical revue/magic show called Esther’s Follies.  Now, I had read some good reviews of this place, saying it was a fun time, and definitely something you should do if you are visiting Austin.  But they really are just so not anything close to explaining the real thing.

This group is HI-larious.  How funny was it?  Well, my mother laughed till she teared up, my Dad laughed till he was out of breath, and I know I was sliding down my chair and stomping my foot it was just SO FUNNY.  If you ever get the chance you have got to see this show.  The comedy was current and universal, some of the music numbers were just great.  But the real gem- and any review will echo this- is the magic.  You are so close to the stage that you just have no clue how they could be pulling this off, but they do it, seamlessly.  And the magician himself is (just like the reviews said) very, very funny.  The combination of the wise cracking magician, the up close magic, and the fact that I’m pretty sure I peed my pants a little laughing so hard, really made this one of the best nights I have had with my parents that I can remember.

The morning that Mom and Dad were set to leave, the Professor and I went to have a morning brunch with them, and to see them off.  I was surprised my Dad wasn’t nursing a hangover, because he downed a number of scotches the night before.  So, since he wasn’t leaning over the table moaning in agony the brunch was pretty uneventful.  No tears, just a really nice send off.

Next Segment:  The end of the Cramps (Finally!)…

2010
05/27
CATEGORY
Uncategorized
TAGS
Write comment
Follow

Get every new post delivered to your Inbox.