Thursday, March 26, 2009
I just can't wait....
So, here I sit. Waiting...for Friday. And it's not just any Friday - this Friday I am off to Las Vegas. Yes, despite what Obama has to say about the city, I am headed there...well, actually the way I am going to celebrate Vegas is exactly what he stereotyped it as...but that's a whole 'nother story altogether. Anyway, soon (in almost exactly 24 hours) I will be off to Vegas. Ready to have a drink or two, watch people be insane, wear clothes I would never normally wear, and all in all enjoy myself. Can't freakin' wait.
Friday, March 13, 2009
Life without Eric
So, Eric and I are under the impression that we, as adults, can each leave one another at home by themselves. This seems logical enough, yet somehow every time he is away I manage to do something completely ridiculous that I am convinced would not have happened if he were home.
So, last Thursday. I get home from work, do some Wii Fit (a new addiction of mine), make dinner and watch some Sex and the City cause Eric isn't home to groan about how annoying the stars of that show are. Finally, I drag my ass off the couch and start cleaning for the company I will be having this weekend. Near the end of my cracked-out tirade through the house, on the floor, and in every nook and cranny, I end up at the trash can/compost/recycling bins that take up a huge corner of the kitchen/dining room.
Instead of doing what I would normally do -- which is set all three bags outside the kitchen door onto the porch that doesn't belong to us and casually look around to make sure no one saw me do it -- I decide that I will be a better person and take the bags down the crooked stairs and around the dark corners to their proper bins. Because it is dark outside, I grab the small grey flashlight on the windowsill and place it in between my teeth (yes, that is how classy I am). I successfully make it down the stairs and put two of the bags into their respective homes...then, the incident happens. As I ungracefully toss the trash bag into the extra-large container, I hit my mouth, and the flashlight falls out, and into the bin (of course).
I stand there for one second and without really thinking, I throw the trash bin on its side and dive into it. Now, as I write this I am completely baffled at why this was my reaction. I chose to crawl inside a plastic container that holds trash to retrieve a tiny (and cheap) flashlight. A minute later, I back out, wipe off my knees and smile widely. Then I realize what just happened. As fast as I can, I put the receptacle back in its proper place and run upstairs to detox my skin.
Once I make it through the shower and change my clothes, I can't help but wonder what made me act the way I did...just because I'm not used to being alone doesn't give me the right to stop thinking and rummage around trash bins.
The moral of the story: Life without Eric is weird.
The bright side: From now on, instead of saying "As hard as finding a needle in a haystack," I am going to say "As hard as finding a small flashlight in a trash bin."
So, last Thursday. I get home from work, do some Wii Fit (a new addiction of mine), make dinner and watch some Sex and the City cause Eric isn't home to groan about how annoying the stars of that show are. Finally, I drag my ass off the couch and start cleaning for the company I will be having this weekend. Near the end of my cracked-out tirade through the house, on the floor, and in every nook and cranny, I end up at the trash can/compost/recycling bins that take up a huge corner of the kitchen/dining room.
Instead of doing what I would normally do -- which is set all three bags outside the kitchen door onto the porch that doesn't belong to us and casually look around to make sure no one saw me do it -- I decide that I will be a better person and take the bags down the crooked stairs and around the dark corners to their proper bins. Because it is dark outside, I grab the small grey flashlight on the windowsill and place it in between my teeth (yes, that is how classy I am). I successfully make it down the stairs and put two of the bags into their respective homes...then, the incident happens. As I ungracefully toss the trash bag into the extra-large container, I hit my mouth, and the flashlight falls out, and into the bin (of course).
I stand there for one second and without really thinking, I throw the trash bin on its side and dive into it. Now, as I write this I am completely baffled at why this was my reaction. I chose to crawl inside a plastic container that holds trash to retrieve a tiny (and cheap) flashlight. A minute later, I back out, wipe off my knees and smile widely. Then I realize what just happened. As fast as I can, I put the receptacle back in its proper place and run upstairs to detox my skin.
Once I make it through the shower and change my clothes, I can't help but wonder what made me act the way I did...just because I'm not used to being alone doesn't give me the right to stop thinking and rummage around trash bins.
The moral of the story: Life without Eric is weird.
The bright side: From now on, instead of saying "As hard as finding a needle in a haystack," I am going to say "As hard as finding a small flashlight in a trash bin."
"That's a thought to think about"
Sometimes when you overhear something, it's truly hard not to point and laugh at the person who is saying it. It seems juvenille, and it is. However, I don't know what else to do - and maybe this is why I don't have children, am not married and basically would like to take life as least seriously as possible.
What a wonderful life
If for no other reason than to have lived for everyone else, she has done well. If she knew the way she impacted everyone around her, she would be happy. She is happy. And because I love and miss my aunt Mary very much, though I know she is peaceful, I want her to know that we all love her down here.
Been working so hard
I'm punching my card
Eight hours. For what?
Oh, tell me what I got
I've got this feeling
That time's still holding me down
I'll hit the ceiling
Or else I'll tear up this town
Now I gotta cut
*Loose, footloose
Kick off your Sunday shoes
Please, Louise
Pull me offa my knees
Jack, get back
C'mon before we crack
Lose your blues
Everybody cut footloose
You're playing so cool
Obeying every rule
Dig a way down in your heart
You're burning, yearning for songs
Somebody to tell you
That life ain't passing you by
I'm trying to tell you
It will if you don't even try
You can fly if you'd only cut
Loose, footloose
Kick off your Sunday shoes
Oowhee, Marie
Shake it, shake it for me
Whoa, Milo
C'mon, c'mon let's go
Lose your blues
Everybody cut footloose
We got to turn me around
And put your feet on the ground
Now take a hold of all
Whooooooooa, I'm turning it
Been working so hard
I'm punching my card
Eight hours. For what?
Oh, tell me what I got
I've got this feeling
That time's still holding me down
I'll hit the ceiling
Or else I'll tear up this town
Now I gotta cut
*Loose, footloose
Kick off your Sunday shoes
Please, Louise
Pull me offa my knees
Jack, get back
C'mon before we crack
Lose your blues
Everybody cut footloose
You're playing so cool
Obeying every rule
Dig a way down in your heart
You're burning, yearning for songs
Somebody to tell you
That life ain't passing you by
I'm trying to tell you
It will if you don't even try
You can fly if you'd only cut
Loose, footloose
Kick off your Sunday shoes
Oowhee, Marie
Shake it, shake it for me
Whoa, Milo
C'mon, c'mon let's go
Lose your blues
Everybody cut footloose
We got to turn me around
And put your feet on the ground
Now take a hold of all
Whooooooooa, I'm turning it
Tuesday, March 10, 2009
I miss my identity
I guess I still have it. But it seems that I am also sharing it, which I did not agree to. Here's the story. I got my wallet stolen at a bar when having drinks with my San Fran BFF. I put my purse on that nifty little hook under the bar where I (and all other women in the whole world) always put my purse (and their purses respectively). Being the paranoid freak I am [side note: this should also answer any questions my friends may have about me not smoking doobies, etc.], I reached my hand over to check that my purse was there about 30 times in the course of the 2-hour drink extravaganza that probably changed my life.
Every time I reached, it was there.
Okay, so we finish our beers and go our seperate ways and I laugh on the phone all the way to my car as I blab on and on about how awesome things are and how wonderful life is...all this without realizing, noticing, knowing that I had just been had. Shit.
So...fast forward to the next day. Out to lunch with a couple of co-workers (also friends), having a great time, ate a fabulous quesadilla. Rushing to eat our food so that we don't extend our allotted hour-long lunch break, we ask the waiter to bring over our check. It arrives and I casaully reach in my purse. Where is my wallet? I think, still calm. So, I proceed to scour through the dense black hole that is my purse and still...nothing. With words of encouragement, my friends assure me that the wallet is in my car. I look and nothing. Fuck. That is all I can think.
I call Eric to ask if he saw it at home. No. I call my BFF to see if she stole it in jest. No. I call the bar to see if I dropped it and the cleaning guy (or gal) saw it and it's happily sitting behind the bar waiting for my phone call. No.
Shit.
I get home and Eric tells me to stop worrying. Just get on Wii Fit and calm down, he says. Fine. Rhythm Boxing takes me into my happy place and I don't know it yet, but this will be the last happy moment for days....my cell phone rings. It's a recording (which is never good). This is Washington Mutual Fraud Services calling to check on some suspicious account activity for (insert name here). I get connected to a live person and it's not all fun and games. It's verification, questions, account balances. Apparently the culprit had tried to use my debit card at a Champs sports store to buy a $40 pair of fucking shoes. I say this is not me, explain what happened, etc.
And all I can think is...If that's not a sign of a down economy, I don't know what is.
Anyway, all not-that-funny-shouldn't-be-kidding-about jokes aside, this sucks. But at least I know my wallet is stolen and not lost and I sleep okay that night.
Fast forward again to Friday evening. It's 6 p.m. and I am leaving work (yes, a half and hour later that normal, so I am already anxious and ready to get home) and I look down at my cell phone, which I placed in my purse for the last two hours of work so that I would stop looking at it, waiting for another bad phone call. Turns out that was a bad decision. Two frantic messages from a downtown Oakland bank branch - please call us back ASAP! they say. I call. Say, "hello, this is Macie" and before I can spit out my last name they know who I am. Not a good sign.
The convo went like this (modified a bit because my head was spinning)
Woman: Did you lose your ID?
Me: Yes! On Wednesday night....
Woman: Okay, cause this woman just came into the branch with a wig on, I think she was an impersonator! She was a good one too, looked just like you, caucasion, black wig.... [unrelated side note: my hair is NOT black...give me a break]
Me: What?!!! Are you kidding me?!!!
Woman: Don't worry, we stopped her...and we have your ID!! You can come and get it Monday, oh yeah and she already took out (blank dollars) from your account at another branch in Oakland. Money orders, cash, blah, blah, blah...
(I don't hear anything she is saying cause I am crossing the bridge and can't focus on anything).
Okay. Seriously...there is a woman running (quite literally out of banks) with a wig on trying to be me. I can't handle this. I call a few people to say just that. Fuck.
So now it's Tuesday and it's not over. Yesterday I spent hours at multiple banks, changing things, giving information and worrying a lot. Long story short, I want my identity back. I want my wallet with my Vons card and my gas receipts that I keep for no reason whatsoever. Every time my phone rings I think something worse is going to happen. I guess only 5 to 7 business days will tell.
If you are reading this and in fact are the lady that wore a wig and tried to be me: I hate you! I hate everything you do, you did, and everything you will be! Leave me alone. I hate you.
Every time I reached, it was there.
Okay, so we finish our beers and go our seperate ways and I laugh on the phone all the way to my car as I blab on and on about how awesome things are and how wonderful life is...all this without realizing, noticing, knowing that I had just been had. Shit.
So...fast forward to the next day. Out to lunch with a couple of co-workers (also friends), having a great time, ate a fabulous quesadilla. Rushing to eat our food so that we don't extend our allotted hour-long lunch break, we ask the waiter to bring over our check. It arrives and I casaully reach in my purse. Where is my wallet? I think, still calm. So, I proceed to scour through the dense black hole that is my purse and still...nothing. With words of encouragement, my friends assure me that the wallet is in my car. I look and nothing. Fuck. That is all I can think.
I call Eric to ask if he saw it at home. No. I call my BFF to see if she stole it in jest. No. I call the bar to see if I dropped it and the cleaning guy (or gal) saw it and it's happily sitting behind the bar waiting for my phone call. No.
Shit.
I get home and Eric tells me to stop worrying. Just get on Wii Fit and calm down, he says. Fine. Rhythm Boxing takes me into my happy place and I don't know it yet, but this will be the last happy moment for days....my cell phone rings. It's a recording (which is never good). This is Washington Mutual Fraud Services calling to check on some suspicious account activity for (insert name here). I get connected to a live person and it's not all fun and games. It's verification, questions, account balances. Apparently the culprit had tried to use my debit card at a Champs sports store to buy a $40 pair of fucking shoes. I say this is not me, explain what happened, etc.
And all I can think is...If that's not a sign of a down economy, I don't know what is.
Anyway, all not-that-funny-shouldn't-be-kidding-about jokes aside, this sucks. But at least I know my wallet is stolen and not lost and I sleep okay that night.
Fast forward again to Friday evening. It's 6 p.m. and I am leaving work (yes, a half and hour later that normal, so I am already anxious and ready to get home) and I look down at my cell phone, which I placed in my purse for the last two hours of work so that I would stop looking at it, waiting for another bad phone call. Turns out that was a bad decision. Two frantic messages from a downtown Oakland bank branch - please call us back ASAP! they say. I call. Say, "hello, this is Macie" and before I can spit out my last name they know who I am. Not a good sign.
The convo went like this (modified a bit because my head was spinning)
Woman: Did you lose your ID?
Me: Yes! On Wednesday night....
Woman: Okay, cause this woman just came into the branch with a wig on, I think she was an impersonator! She was a good one too, looked just like you, caucasion, black wig.... [unrelated side note: my hair is NOT black...give me a break]
Me: What?!!! Are you kidding me?!!!
Woman: Don't worry, we stopped her...and we have your ID!! You can come and get it Monday, oh yeah and she already took out (blank dollars) from your account at another branch in Oakland. Money orders, cash, blah, blah, blah...
(I don't hear anything she is saying cause I am crossing the bridge and can't focus on anything).
Okay. Seriously...there is a woman running (quite literally out of banks) with a wig on trying to be me. I can't handle this. I call a few people to say just that. Fuck.
So now it's Tuesday and it's not over. Yesterday I spent hours at multiple banks, changing things, giving information and worrying a lot. Long story short, I want my identity back. I want my wallet with my Vons card and my gas receipts that I keep for no reason whatsoever. Every time my phone rings I think something worse is going to happen. I guess only 5 to 7 business days will tell.
If you are reading this and in fact are the lady that wore a wig and tried to be me: I hate you! I hate everything you do, you did, and everything you will be! Leave me alone. I hate you.
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