Not the Discussion I Was Expecting

You guys know I'm a real bitch. You know how much I laugh at people when they trip. Or fall. Or both! You know that sometimes when I'm bored I amuse myself of thinking of past trips and falls seen days or weeks ago.

But I try to be a nice bitch, if there can be such a thing. I try to make sure that when I direct my bitchiness at someone it is deserved. Nothing makes you feel worse than giving an accidental bitching.

It was past 9pm when I finally sat down to dinner this evening. I was eating in my bedroom, because 9am was home and if I sit in front of the tv he has a habit of coming over and standing in front of me silently, waiting for me to acknowledge him. He then talks about whatever his issue is. I spend a lot of time with movies paused. It pisses me off.

Tonight, while eating dinner there was a knock on my door. I did not want to acknowledge 9am, because I am outrageously tired (I haven't been able to sleep during this heatwave) and stressed and, and, and. But I did the mature thing and went to say hi and see what 9am wanted to discuss this time.

Somewhat nervously, 9am asked if he has done something to hurt my feelings or offend me in some way, because if he has, he wants to fix it and apologize. He feels I've been angry at him.

This was my moment to tell him all the things he does that annoy me. How he leaves wet, used paper towels on the kitchen counters, that he never cleans out the toaster despite using it daily, that black dress socks don't go with white sneakers especially when you're going to work out at the gym. But the thing is, we're moving out in a week. I will not be here for the majority of that time. 9am is moving way out to the suburbs. The likelihood of ever seeing him again is quite small. So I decided there was no point. It doesn't matter that his moving out before the lease is up causes me problems. Why? Because he's not going to decide to stay due to that.

I told 9am that what I was about to say might not come out too sincerely because I've been rushing around so much today that my adrenaline was in overdrive. However. I have a lot going on right now and am very stressed, but I'm not angry with him. That we're both moving, and moving is stressful. That I'm going out of the country the weekend before my move. I could not stress the stress enough.

9am then confessed that normally he falls asleep five seconds after laying down, but the last few nights it's taken him hours, because he's been worried he did something wrong or offended me. I asked how long 9am has been feeling this way. "About a week," he admitted.

I felt awful. Spent a few minutes talking about how hard it is to find a replacement roommate to fill a spot on your lease when you have two weeks to do it (9am admitted to now understanding why those 30 days I kept bringing up were important). He seriously looked like a huge weight was off his shoulders. I asked 9am why he carried this around for so long, why he didn't say something sooner.

"I was scared it would be something awful, something too big to fix," he told me. We hugged, and I reiterated that we're cool, said he has to live his life for himself and that I totally understand that. Because he does, and I do. 9am told me that if there's anything he can do to help with all this to please let him know. In fact, he said it two or three times.

So I decided to toss it out there. "Think about if you want to help me move a week from this Saturday. You can let me know if you can do it next week, you don't have to give me an answer right now." 9am's eyes got wide. I think that was a little more than he was expecting, but he said okay to thinking about it. I won't be offended if he doesn't help.

The entire conversation was very weird. For some reason I thought 9am would be angry at ME, because I wouldn't sign the form he wanted that would take away his financial obligations here. Funny how things work.

Tuesday Ramblings

• Soon I am going out of the country for the first time in my life, to a country where English is not the main language, and am traveling alone. Petrified.
• I have not packed yet at all.
• Before I move there are tons of things I'd like to donate. I put up an ad on Craigslist specifically saying the things must be picked up and after six or so years of dealing with people through Craigslist I am finally seeing what others bitch about with people flaking and not following through.
• The handles on my dresser drawers are little white knobs. I hang things from them and like to consider that "decoration."
• My future roommate has either never had a roommate or not had one in a long time, and she e-mails me every single day about something small and inconsequential, like "Hey Green, just wanted to let you know I moved the magazine that was on the kitchen counter, so there'll be an extra few square inches when you move in, unless a new magazine has come in the mail before your move."
  
• This morning I did something illegal - I talked on my cell phone while driving. Luckily I did not kill anyone (or get pulled over).
  
• Lately I have been reading a fiction book called Next, by Michael Crichton which is all about genetics and other sciencey stuff that's way beyond my head. There is a fake article in the book that talks about psychological neoteny, and how people take longer to reach mental maturity because they have formal education now, well into their twenties, which requires a child-like stance of receptivity. The fake article goes on to explain that in earlier human societies (a.k.a. the olden days, pre-college) people reached maturity in the teen years. I found it all very interesting, especially when I thought about 9am, and how he JUST started his very first job in his entire life a few months ago, and he seems to flail about quite often.*
• I just want to give a shout-out to Bed Bath & Beyond because (I'm 15 again and that's what people do at that age? Noooo, that can't be why!) it turns out they will let you return things even if you've opened them. Yay for store credit!

*I just want to reiterate that this was a fake article. Not real. Though this psychological neoteny thing is real.

And the Lightbulb Clicked On

Poor 9am has been in denial that I'm moving out, continually sending me responses to the ad for a roommate he put up after he gave me his pitiful notice. Tonight it somehow finally became clear to him. That I am indeed moving out, just like he is (except not to the suburbs like he is).

Now he is all a flutter, dancing all around the apartment with worry. It's kind of cute. I almost feel badly for him. But then I don't.

Thank You Brooklyn!

As of tomorrow, I will see a lot better thanks to you!

Suddenly (I See) Susan

By now, you've all seen the Susan Boyle video. I have too. And I'm absolutely disgusted by it. By everything surrounding her. The only thing that doesn't disgust me is Susan herself. Once again, I am disappointed by society. Society, you have let me down once more.

Something really needs to change if we would look at someone, and decide, based on appearance, how well they might be able to do something that has absolutely NOTHING to do with appearance. Maybe we need to go back to the old days when we heard singers on the radio and didn't watch them on tv, so we would focus on their actual talent, rather than their fake tits and perky, Crest White Stripped smiles.

The only shocking thing to me about Susan Boyle is that she wasn't discovered years and years ago. Her looks should have absolutely nothing at all to do with her ability to be marketed for her voice. Quite frankly, if a marketing team said they were unable to market her due to her looks, I'd think they weren't very good at their jobs.

I hope Susan Boyle is able to use this show as a springboard for a singing career. Partially because she has a fabulous voice and it would be great if more people got to hear Susan, but also because I hope she will be a (visual) reminder that appearance is not everything. People are so much more than how they look. It's sad that society needs to be reminded of this fact.

My hope is that as people are reminded, they will stop being nice to stupid-yet-pretty girls who coast on their looks, and expect them to propel their lives.

Susan, your voice is beautiful. I thought you were beautiful. I hope you go far. If I bought music, I would totally buy anything you recorded.

This Qualifies As a Pickle

On Tuesday, I went to the leasing office. What I told them was that I'd been laid off (implying it was recent), my roommate had just told me he was moving out, there was no way I could carry the $3,000 rent by myself, and stared at them helplessly with big eyes to see what they would say.

What the nice leasing office lady said was that I could choose to break the lease and it would cost me thousands of dollars. I said, "Sign me up for that." 9am was supposed to sign it too. I brought the form home, and he told me he spoke with someone else, who gave him a different form, and by the way, he needed me to sign HIS form.

9am's form will not be signed by me. If I sign it, I am releasing him from the financial obligation, agreeing he gave me 30 days notice, and letting him out of the lease. That would be ridiculous of me. I very gently explained that to him, and pointed out that he did NOT give me 30 days notice, and that I can't afford to pay all the rent. He nodded and understood.

He's screwed if I don't let him out of the lease. I'm screwed if I stay. 9am *just* figured out that I'm not an idiot who will let herself be put on the line for the full rent. So now he is in his bedroom frantically putting up an ad for a roommate. I have a feeling this is not going to end well with 9am. Because I already know I am for sure breaking this lease, and am for sure moving at the end of the month. I know the leasing company is going to come after me for the thousands of dollars it costs to break a lease, and I'm prepared for it to simply be added to the thousands of dollars I already owe. My credit is already ruined. It doesn't matter anymore to me if it gets ruined further.

How To Make My Head Spin

1. Tell me you're moving out in less than two weeks, after you've already paid me a full month of rent. Then tell me emphatically over and over you won't leave me hanging, but don't define what that means to you.

2. When I ask what the plan is with your move, tell me you forgot to mention it before, but you're moving out at the end of the month now.

So 9am is moving out at the end of April. Four people have responded to my roommate ad, two I didn't even want to meet, and two I set up times to meet. One no-showed. Prick. One showed up, stayed much longer than I would have liked him to, expressed great interest, then never followed up or responded to my follow up. Fucking flakers.

9am is shocked, SHOCKED! that it is taking longer than 1-3 days to find someone to replace him. He can't possibly think I take the first person who comes along, since the day I met him I met two other people (hence, his name here).

Meanwhile, a friend knew someone who was looking to rent out a room in the apartment she rents. I met with her, and as of yesterday am trying to move there, where the rent is $1000. !!! So now I desperately need help to move, and sell some things, like my living room furniture. If you're local and interested, by all means, let me know.

Crazy Girl and Golden Boy have generously agreed to store my dining room set in their garage. I'm thinking of just wrapping them all in a couple of drop cloths and hoping for the best. Is there some better way (that's inexpensive) to store a table and chairs in a garage?

So much to do, and so little time and money to do it with. In the midst of all this, the most awesome thing happened yesterday. I got to meet Shinyung. We'd tried to get together a few times, but in all honesty, I always flaked, not being able to force myself to meet up, for no good reason. As sweet as she seems online, she's even sweeter in person.

Speaking of which, I once noticed how people always gush about meeting other bloggers. Several months ago, I suggested to Wide Lawns how just once, wouldn't it be totally hilarious to see someone rip a blogger they just met to shreds? In the email I sent her, I included a fake write-up.

"She was dressed schlumpily, in clothes that looked like they came from the clearance racks of WalMart and her horribly dyed hair clearly hadn't been washed in over a week. We went to get drinks at a bar and she spilled red wine on my pants. I tried to smile and say it was okay but I couldn't believe she didn't offer to replace my pants, or at least pay for dry-cleaning. She also did this weird sniffling thing constantly that really made me want to shove a pack of tissues up her nose. Which, by the way, is TERRIBLE, so I don't know why she hasn't gotten a nose job yet. We all know she can afford it since she is forever posting pictures on her blog of the latest porcelain doll to be added to the collection that takes up her entire living room and study.

Over dinner she pulled out pictures of her kids to show me and let me tell you, this woman knows how to work the Photoshop, because these kids are UGLY! They barely even resemble the children she posts pics of on her blog. She went on and on about her special snowflakes and when I couldn't stand it anymore, I excused myself to the restroom. From there I escaped out the window and met up with a couple of my real friends three blocks away, where I drank and tried to forget the earlier part of the evening.

I would totally do it, if only I could meet up with someone who sucks. Alas, I always wind up getting together with the nicest people. WHY CAN'T YOU GUYS SUCK?

Odd Jobs Welcome

Most, if not all, of my current major problems would be solved if I had a job. My friends are awesome (this means you), and offer me all sorts of jobs. I accept everything. Blow your husband? Alrig... just kidding. Last week a friend e-mailed me asking if she could hire me. To stalk her nanny.

Yeah, you read that right. She was worried the nanny was not taking her baby where she was telling my friend she was (Wide Lawns, if you want to tell me how to fix this sentence ...). I told my friend I'd do it right away. But I was scared. What if I went, saw the nanny, and she was seriously abusing their super-cute baby? Like real abuse. Would I be able to just walk away? You know, without scooping the baby up and kicking the nanny? What if I had to tell my friend that while she was at work her smiley baby was being hurt? I didn't want to have to see anything like that, or deal with seeing anything like that.

So one morning last week, with a heavy heart I set out to a neighborhood a few train stops from mine, and armed with my iPod and a book, began stalking. The nanny has never met me, and while the baby has, it was too long ago to have to worry about being recognized and outed.

My friend called me right when her nanny was leaving the house, telling me where she and the baby were headed. I got there and waited. Watched the door. Read my book, paid attention to everyone. Went to the second location where they were scheduled to go after the first one. Called my friend to give her an update, then headed to the third place. To be honest, I felt a little uncomfortable hanging around near a bunch of kids I didn't know, looking in at all the shorties playing. Luckily it didn't take long to see what was going on, and then I was finished.

When I got home, I emailed my friend a "report" on everywhere I went, what time, and what I saw. It's not the ideal situation, but it's not awful either. I was very relieved. And that's the story of how I got hired to stalk someone.

Maybe I'm a Bitchy Jew

But I don't understand why the Obamas were having a Passover seder in the White House. They're not jewish. I heard that one of them has a relative who is a rabbi, but everything I've read on the O's seder fails to mention that rabbi hosting or attending.

Judiasm is a religion. A real one, with beliefs and everything. It's not a lifestyle to try on. It's not a club to join just because you like the uniform (or the food, in this case). My parents have hosted seders for years, and invited nonjews. There was the Italian couple whose husband worked with my dad. My mom packed up the extra hard boiled eggs and gave them to the wife as she was leaving, to use for Easter. In high school my Italian friend came to a seder. My brother's indian friend came to one. When I first moved out to San Francisco I hosted a Rosh Hashanah dinner and invited my Irish Catholic roommate.

So it's not that non-jews should be shunned from celebrating jewish holidays. It just strikes me as really fucking weird for a bunch of non-jews to get together to do something jewy. Yes, matzah ball soup is awesome, but you don't have to do a seder to eat some, you can just get it at the nearest kosher deli or make it yourself.

I'd be more impressed with the Obamas if they cut out the White House Easter Egg Hunt. But I won't hold my breath, since we all know separation of church and state doesn't really exist.

Notice

It's official. 9am told me tonight he's moving out this weekend. Yes, you read that correctly. Despite all my blathering on about "30 days notice this" and "30 days notice that" in the hopes he'd take the hint, 9am refuses to believe he has to conform, and seems to think it will take me no more than three days tops, to find a new roommate. Even though I've told him every time that I've had a roommate give me 30 days notice I've still wound up living alone for at least a month before a new roommate moves in (meaning it takes me over 30 days to find a new roommate).

When I was gainfully employed (I can barely remember those days) it was tough to pay the full rent without a roommate. Now it'll be downright impossible. Earlier today when on the phone with Golden Boy I told him I'd be able to stay in San Francisco through May. Now it looks like I should just start shipping things to Florida tomorrow. I feel ill.

I Ramble. She Roominates.

Please help out my local blogfriend Catheroo, and go leave her a comment. Why? Because she's trying to get in better shape and for every comment she gets, she'll work out even more.

In other news, tonight 9am decided to try out saying, "Right on." It wasn't pretty. He is way too tightly wound to get away with saying something like that. As soon as the words were out of his mouth he got a shocked look on his face, like, "Oh! That's what that sounds like? That's AWFUL!" Yes, yes it is.

Welcome Back

9am had gone home for a week - he left while I was at Crazy Girl and Golden Boy's, dogsitting - and came back tonight.

For all the shit I talk about 9am, I think I just hate what he represents, but not him personally. Having a roommate is really not the way I like to live. Having to hear noise someone else is making, coming home and finding flies that arrived because of opened windows I didn't open, not having things stay the way I leave them, these things drive me nuts. The effort of constant filtering myself, to make sure I'm not giving 9am shit for reasonable things is exhausting.

Oh, the Crushing Awkwardness

A couple of weeks ago, I dogsat for Crazy Girl and Golden Boy while they went to NY and Crazy Girl had her final dress fitting and they saw family and stuff.

Pretty much nothing makes me happier than playing with a dog, especially one as happy and friendly as Le Pooch. Seriously. I can't express how happy it makes me that I am their number one go-to person when they need their dog watched. So I love it, and am totally happy to watch her any time. They know this. We always have these funny conversations of "Thanks for watching Le Pooch" and me saying, "Oh you're welcome and thanks for LETTING me watch Le Pooch" and we go back and forth a bit.

I've told my brother repeatedly, that even though theoretically I'm doing them a favor by dogsitting, the reality is they are doing me a favor. It's unconditional love, helps with depression tremendously, it's forced exercise, etc. Plus it's nice to be at their house, somewhere that's a change of scenery yet somewhere I'm very comfortable.

Passover is coming and they invited me to their potluck seder. At first I said I'd go, and make this dish that I make really well. Then I realized how much it would cost, and called my brother and said "Look, the truth is there's no way I can afford to make this to bring, I'm so sorry, I have to bow out. I got carried away b/c Passover is my favorite holiday."

He said of course I should come anyway, because they're nice like that. I thought maybe (wrongly) I could scrounge up the money for a can of macaroons or something, because how awkward if somebody would turn to me to ask what I brought and I had to say "My good cheer for this happy holiday!" or something. Then Golden Boy suggested he and Crazy Girl buy the ingredients for the dish and I make and bring it. I said, that's really nice, but are you doing this just so I can come and save face? He insisted he wasn't, that I'd be doing them a favor because if I didn't make it, they'd have to make it, so it would help them be less busy when they're preparing for 62 people to arrive.

So today we're supposed to get together and go buy all the ingredients for this Passover dish. Then a few days ago, it was suggested they take me to breakfast before going food shopping, as a thank you for watching Le Pooch.

Last night we were trying to iron out details of what time, and where, and things never fully got resolved. Mostly because of me - we were doing this all by e-mail, and I was not home to read e-mail. So we got as far as a time but not as far as a place.

I am low on toothpaste. While I appreciate people trying to do nice things like taking me out places that I can't afford right now (I say this like it's temporary), the reality is, I'm running out of toothpaste. The reality is, I already used up my last kitchen garbage bag.

Sure it's fun to eat pancakes, something I never make at home, but some of that fun is diluted when you realize the cost of those pancakes could pay for a tube of toothpaste that would last you a couple of months. It's hard to be properly appreciative in this situation.

I know everyone expresses their gratitude in different ways. Everyone wants gratitude expressed to them in different ways. Expressing thanks (beyond saying 'thank you') can be really easy or really difficult. My mother used to like to send me flowers on my birthday. I love flowers. Except it's really hard to look at flowers these days, knowing they could pay for a week's worth of food, or the PG&E bill for a month. To me, I truly feel thanked for watching Le Pooch when I get asked to do it again next time. That's all I need, and it's plenty.

That's how Golden Boy and I came to have the most awkward conversation ever this morning, with him saying "We just want to show you our appreciation," and me responding, "Yes, and I appreciate that, it's just hard to happily eat breakfast out when I know that money could pay for half a week's food or whatever." It got to the point where Golden Boy said if their appreciation would best be expressed by purchasing me some toothpaste, then they're happy to do that. So that's what's going to happen.

I'm going to make some oatmeal for breakfast here. Then I'm going food shopping with Golden Boy and Crazy Girl so they can buy ingredients in order for me to bring something to their potluck seder, and there'll be toothpaste buying.

I cried when Golden Boy and I got off the phone. I'll probably cry again when I get home from food shopping. It's so embarrassing. So frustrating. I'm not one of those welfare bitches whose life ambition is to get everyone else to pay for things. I want to work. I like being a contributing member of society. Nobody seems to want my contributions though. Even the place I signed up to volunteer at took all my information and then never called, after saying repeatedly how busy and swamped they are.

I'm such a fuckup that I can't even get hit by a truck and die, because I always forget in order to do that, one has to leave their house.

Please bow your heads, for a moment of

HAPPINESS IN A TRAIN STATION! Jennie, why do I feel confident you will know where this takes place?

I know Improv Everywhere is ... well, everywhere, but are they really oversees?

When You Can't Think of Anything to Blog About ...

Go look at what your blog friends are blogging about, and copy Nicole.

1. 9am is off visiting his family for the week, and I'm greatly enjoying having the apartment to myself. I don't have to put on a bra before leaving my bedroom, and don't have to clean up messes in the kitchen that I didn't make. It's also nice to not have to see 9am involuntarily flex his muscles each time he feels his masculinity is threatened, like when I catch him laughing his very high-pitched laugh.

2. I like to walk along the Embarcadero. You can look out at the San Francisco Bay, walk right under the Bay Bridge, and you don't have to pay attention to traffic at all, because, like Boston's Esplanade, there's no break in sidewalk.

3. Not too far from the ballpark where the SF Giants play there used to be this funky candle store on the Embarcadero that I liked to stop in at during my walks. Then it moved. The store listed their new address. I looked it up on a map. I went to where I thought it should be, right in my neighborhood. But it wasn't there. I gave up. It's not like I had any urgent need for candles.

4. Today I bought eggs.

5. On my way home, I saw a sign for the funky candle store, complete with directions in my language (go to end of walkway, turn right, follow curve of street, shop is on the right past auto body store). I was very excited to finally find the store again! Turns out they have changed to mostly selling wholesale, which is why they didn't need such a huge space on the Embarcadero anymore. Also turns out, they were having a sale, and the candles they show on the clearance section of their website that sell for $5 are being sold in the store for $3.

6. Still, I did not buy any. Wasn't that a nice story?

7. I don't really have anything else to share. Nothing else is going on with me these days.

8. Oh wait! Did I tell you about the time a few months ago when I tried to make mashed potatoes and it didn't go well? I wound up having to throw out the whole concoction, which greatly upset me as I hate to waste money.

9. Well, last week, I looked at several recipes for mashed potatoes, figured out what I'd done wrong (hadn't boiled the potatoes, nor had I had a potato masher which while not technically necessary, probably does make things much easier), and tried again while staying at Crazy Girl and Golden Boy's house. With great success! If you ever come over and I offer you mashed potatoes, whip your fork out from your pocket and dig in, because they're fabulous.

10. Lastly, I'd just like to make sure you're aware of FMyLife and FailBlog. Both funny. Both highly inappropriate for work.