Today I did not leave the house. This is a first. I’ve made a point of getting out every day since I moved here. As much as I would like to stay drunk all day and watch my stories, it simply isn’t a healthy practice. Today was different though – it was cold and rainy and had “stay at home” written all over it. Not even I want to shop or hit the movies on such a cold miserable day. I was productive, however. That’s one good thing about moving into a decrepit farmhouse; there’s always something to do. Something to clean, something to toss, laundry and groceries. I’ve been busy, trust me.
Today I decided to tackle a little project I like to call “Fuck you, Ladybugs”. The girls’ room upstairs has been infested with ladybugs. Firstly I’ll mention that I’m grateful it’s not cockroaches or silverfish, but we’re talking about a LOT of ladybugs, people. They are cute mostly when they are not en masse. I’m talking about hundreds, all crawling to the corners of the ceiling and hibernating. I got suited up with the vacuum cleaner in one hand and a bottle of “Bugstop” in the other. What I didn’t anticipate was how much fun it is to vacuum ladybugs off of the girly mosquito nets that hang over the girls’ beds. GOOD TIMES. I’m bouncing on the bed trying to balance holding the vacuum in one hand and the extended tube in the other, all the while sucking up the ENTIRE mosquito net. With a bad knee. Oh, the expletives!
After almost an hour and a half I had stripped off some layers, put my hair back with barrettes and yelled “fuck you ladybugs”! around 47 times. I have sprayed the room (it’s indoor safe) and tucked toilet paper into any crevice to the outside. I am John Goodman in Arachnophobia. The ‘effing ladybugs have met their match.
Yesterday I got my nails done. Being new to town I just waltzed into the mall and found a salon. I was greeted warmly and sent to a station where a smallish man was sitting ready to help me. This was just the beginning of my problems.
1. Dude. I’ve never had my nails done by a dude.
2. Chatty, yet unfamiliar with the English language. I could not understand a word, and I started pitting out trying to communicate with him. AWKWARD.
3. Dude was missing some fingers. I shit you not.
To be polite I pretended not to notice and stared at the plasma tv blasting some banal soap opera. Before I knew it he says “you pay now” and I look down and I’ve got a freakin’ french manicure. I did not ask for a french manicure. I had expected him to finish and say “you pick color” as my experiences in the past. *sigh* I personally have nothing against french manicures, folks, but if you know me in real life you know that I am simply not a french manicure kind of gal. They look too pink and too white and entirely too fake. The whole point of having artificial nails is that they don’t appear artificial, correct?
Well, I look like a douchebag, end of story. I didn’t say anything because I pretty much just wanted away from the nubs and the soap opera. Johnny thinks the whole thing is pretty funny so he’s getting the white airbrushed tip of my middle finger quite a bit.
I re-watched the movie “Seven” today. Wow. I’d forgotten how that movie is equally as brilliant as it is disturbing. Fantastic.
I have a new job starting this Monday. Funny story. Johnny and I met at a local restaurant for lunch a few weeks ago before my interview with a temp agency. I was sitting there eating a shitty iceberg lettuce salad when I heard a familiar voice. I glanced over to the table to my right and there sat a co-worker/friend of mine from over ten years ago. I tell ya, I can’t make this luck stuff up. I blurted out his name and he looked up at me suspiciously. I re-introduced myself and was greeted with a big bear hug. Did I mention he needs a sales rep at his company? His company also happens to be about 15 minutes from our house and believe you me, there is nothing 15 minutes away from this house. So I pretty much got a new kick-ass job with someone I know, I trust, and I like. Score. You gotta admit that that’s crazy – I move to a city where I literally know no one and I sit down at a table in a crappy-ass chain restaurant and run into not just someone I used to work with, but someone who knows how good I am. Boastful? Kinda, but I’ve been in the business for awhile and I do know my shit.
So, there’s that.
I am currently watching the horror flick “1408” staring John Cusack. I love that dude although this movie is somewhat lame. I met him once you know, at the Frolic Room – a bar in Hollywood. It was Thanksgiving Day and he came in with a female friend on his motorcycle. There weren’t many customers in the bar as it was a family holiday. We ended up chatting a bit and he bought me a shot of Jagermeister. There’s my claim to fame! Nice guy though – great actor. I loved seeing him at Obama’s inauguration as well.
Happy Days are here again! That’s the subject line from an email sent by my 102 year old Grandmother last week. This woman remembers a time when she was not allowed to vote and here she is, EMAILING me about her excitement over the new administration. Talk about a renaissance woman.
My heart is filled with hope for my own future, as well as ours as a nation.