Conversation

The following is a conversation that I heard today as I was walking into my office building.

Lady 1- "Are you serious?"

Lady 2- "Yep. Can you believe she said that?"

L1- "What a bitch. Do you think any of it is true? I know she is trying to come between them, but COULD he be cheating?"

L2- "No way. I totally don't get that vibe from him. You know?"

L1- "Maybe. I just don't trust men. Any man. Not after what Jeff put me through."

L2- Laughs. "Yah, I know what you mean. He was such a dick. You are SO better off without him."

L1- "I know. So should we tell Sarah what Jenny said? Or should be just pretend we never heard anything and see what happens on Saturday?"

L2- "Let's let it be for now. But I'm going to keep my eye on him at the party to see how he acts. And if he hurts Sarah, I'll cut off his balls."

And then I got on the elevator and missed the rest of the conversation. So what I took from it is that L1 and L2 are friends with Sarah who is with some guy. Rumors about the guy cheating are apparently being spread by Jenny who is trying to come between them. And L1 was cheated on by someone named Jeff.

The thing that gets me, the reason I'm even blogging about it is because I didn't hear this conversation going on between two people in person. L1 was talking on her cell phone with L2. ON SPEAKER! Why in the world would you have a conversation like that and keep it on speakerphone????? L1 was walking to the building as I was and was just holding her phone in front of her and having the above conversation. WHAT????? As admitted to before, I'm a voyer and like to hear other people's conversations. But only when I make the effort to do it. I don't like it being shoved down my throat. I just don't understand why someone wouldn't think that maybe, just maybe, that's a conversation that would be better left private.

But.... it also gives me an idea. I'm thinking it would be fun to have certain conversations on speaker-phone in public. About bodily functions. Or explicit details of someone's sex life. Or how the "operation" went. Or about the status of a rash. Or about the results of an STD test and if it is treatable. Or any other tabboo subject that no decent or sane person would talk about loudly on speaker-phone in public......

It's Monday

Meaning I'm too busy to write much. So I will share three videos that make me laugh. (Keep in mind that I have a odd and childish sense of humor.)



And



And

I Can't Stop It

Sometimes things pop out of my mouth that I have no intention on actually saying. Not really mean or bad things, either. Just silly things that really would be better off not being said. Or at least I'd seem less odd and less insane if I'd keep my trap shut. For example:

I just got off the phone with a policyholder. (I work for an insurance company, if you didn't already know that.) This particular policyholder is a MALE policyholder. He was worried about a claim that he didn't need to worry about. So I literally said to him:

"Don't worry your pretty little head about it."

?????? WHAT ??????

Much Love!

I Am A Mass Murderer

Yep, it's true.

I've been dedicating a minimum of an hour a day to cleaning up and moving stuff since I gave my notice. Since I'm throwing away so much, it's actually going pretty well. But then I got to the bathroom.....

First of all, the lighting in my bathroom is horrible. There's an itsy bitsy light that doesn't brighten much and a corner where they randomly threw the toilet that is dark and gloomy. It has always been dark and gloomy, but.....

Imagine what one would find when cleaning the darkened corners of the bathroom that hasn't been used in over two months.....

How about a billion of these:

I had been grabbing things off the floor that were haphazardly thrown there by the landlady and cleaning people during the whole construction fiasco when I noticed movement. Further scrutiny uncovered a giant pregnant spider that had almost attacked my hand. Now spiders aren't a big fear of mine. I don't LIKE them, per say, but I don't hate or fear them either. Unless they are HUGE and scary- and pregnant. Fortunately for me, I had a can of Raid on the kitchen counter due to previous spider infestations. The joys of living in a dark basement apartment....

Anyways, so I zapped the giant pregnant spider with a tiny bit of Raid in order to disorient it so that it wasn't able to cling to the towel and/or progress further towards my hand in vengeance. It was huge enough that it made an audible THUNK when it hit the floor. The idea was to squash it immediately after hitting the floor since I feel absolutely horrible by letting spiders die a long painful death from Raid suffocation. But, just after the audible THUNK, my cell phone rang. It was the people that were there to pick up my entertainment center that I so artistically illustrated yesterday. They came and picked up the entertainment center with my assistance since my muscles are so huge. I immediately went back to the dark and gloomy bathroom to find that the huge giant pregnant spider was no longer visable.....

I used the bottom of the can of Raid to squash around through things before picking them up to dispose of them. Into the bag more and more items go, still invisible is the giant pregnant spider. I grabbed the handle of a basket I had used for the toilet bowl cleaning brush and toilet bowl cleaner- and it lunged. Okay, it didn't actually lunge. But it did suddenly appear and with its enormous body started making its way towards my hand yet again. I immediately dropped the basket on the ground and watched as it climbed around with its long demonic legs. And then noticed MORE movement from ANOTHER dark corner, which also happened to be a spider. Not as large and not as obviously pregnant, but equally jarring. At this point, aware that I had probably just invaded a pit of arachnids, I blew. Needless to say, I emptied the entire can of Raid in the area and left.

I'm sure tonight I will find huge piles of spiders bodies as I return to the room of doom and gloom. I am a mass murderer.

Much Love!

Bag Lady

Moving is a big giant pain. I assure you. And it's an even bigger pain when you aren't capable of throwing anything away. Until you need to move and get angry at how much crap you have accumulated since moving in to your apartment. I have BAGS and BAGS of just crap that I'm throwing away. I have BAGS and BAGS of crap that I'm giving to the DI. I have BAGS and BAGS of clothing and things like that which is all heading over to Michael's. Basically, I'm the bag lady.



And here is my extremely crude drawing of an entertainment center that I am giving away for free. Which actually looks nothing like the actual entertainment center itself. But I've been sending it in response to inquiries, anyways. Because I'm crazy like that.

Final thing for any Family Guy fans: Haven't you heard? Bird is the word.

Much Love!

Pants

So today I was walking down the hallway at work to go to the bathroom, as I've been known to do. And a random thought popped into my head. It said "There's something funny about the butt of these pants."



As I have been living out of a suitcase for the past 2 months, I haven't carried around all my clothes. Obviously. So I've been packing around a few pairs of jeans and left the others at my apartment. In packing up my clothes to bring to Michael's, I have rediscovered all my other billion pairs of jeans. Seriously, how many jeans does one person need? As I can't own jeans and have them go to waste, I have been wearing the other lonely jeans in for the past two days.



Yesterday as I was leaving Michael's (soon to just be called "home") in the morning, a random though popped into my head saying "There's something funny about the legs of these pants." But Michael was sleeping and I was already out the door. So I just left. When I got to work, I looked dow and sure enough, I remembered exactly WHY I didn't tow these particular pants around. The last time I wore them, I noticed that the bottom hem was ripped and hanging. I stepped on the hem to rip off part of it, and it did more than that. It ripped off the whole bottom and then ripped up the leg a bit. So I walked around yesterday with a severe case of pants that looked like bell-bottom floods.

(Not mine below)

Back to my butt. The seam in the back is off. You know what I'm talking about- the seam that is supposed to go up the crack. It's off. It's more on one cheek than in the middle. And it bothers me. It's not like it's a big deal. Unless someone is doing a careful examination of my butt, they wouldn't even notice. But I do.



My point is- moving is a good thing as it forces you to get rid of the junk and crap and pants that you don't wear for a reason. And a giant box of stuffed animals that have no memories attached to them. Not even one small memory.....



Much Love!

A Ghost Story

I have decided that Michael's house is haunted. I know that some people scoff at the idea of ghosts, spirits, leftover energy, whatever you want to call them. And everyone is entitled to their own opinions. But my opinion is that there are such things as the supernatural and there's something in Michael's house. Hear me out.

There have been a few times that I have actually heard someone talking to me while I am almost asleep. It's been a whisper here and there, and an actual quiet voice here and there. It doesn't scare me, it doesn't make me feel uncomfortable or anything like that, so I don't even mind it. Which may sound wierd considering that something is talking to me when I'm at Michael's house alone. But I just don't get a bad feeling about it.

With my whole living situation, Michael and I have decided to cohabitate. Live together. I'm moving in. (Wahoo!) Michael decided that since I'll be living there and he's gone a lot that he'd feel more comfortable with me having a shotgun handy. He sat me down and went through the process with me. It's ingrained in my head now. Push up button, cock it (click click!), flip off the safety, push the button for the flashlight if needed, and BOOM! I have a small fear of guns, but only because I don't understand them. Knowing how to protect myself if it came down to it feels good. So I am armed and dangerous now when it comes to someone trying to break in to rape and kill me.



Anyways, so I had brought over some bags of clothes to Michael's house last night. I threw some clothes in the washer and went outside to read. After the insistent beep-beep of the washer letting me know it was done, I went back downstairs to throw the clothes in the dryer. That was when I heard someone walking around upstairs. I'm not kidding, I'm not exagerating, whatever. Someone was walking around upstairs and that's a fact. I felt real terror. My heart started pumping, I started sweating. Pictures of me raped and killed flashed through my head. I thought about how it would hurt my friends and family. I wondered who would find my body. I'm not kidding, people- these are actual thoughts that I had while I was just standing there frozen in terror. And then I got pissed. The shotgun is in the bedroom upstairs. I was stuck in the landry room downstairs. How was I going to get to the gun? I looked around the landry room for something, anything, to defend myself and give me the distraction I needed to get to the gun. The only thing I found was a can of brake parts cleaner which we use as spider-killer. So I grabbed the can and shook it to get it ready. I crept up the stairs as silently as I could. I couldn't see anyone in the kitchen so I made my way to the bedroom. Dropped the break-parts cleaner and grabbed the shotgun. Got it all ready to be fired with the exception of the safety, as I wouldn't want to panic at something stupid and shoot a hole in Michael's wall. I looked like a bad-ass, actually. Little 5 foot tall, 95 pound me with a big old shotgun. Anyways, so I went through the entire apartment checking the closets and dark corners. Nothing. Both the front and back doors were still locked up tight. The place was empty. At least it was empty of a living breathing human being (other than myself, obviously).

Now if I had been drinking or sleeping, I could tell myself that I imagined it. But I genuinely did not imagine this. I don't have a super-active imagination that actually makes me imagine sounds and the like. It was real.

I'm not scared of the ghost walking around and talking to me. I just wish it would do it a little more quietly so I didn't assume I was going to be violently attacked. Maybe if I ask nicely????

Much Love!