Moving is one of my least favorite things to do. There's all the packing, cleaning, destroying of evidence, and hiding funny notes to creep out the next tenant. It's a lot of work.
But when you're talking about moving out of your parents' house to your own place again, the task of moving doesn't seem so bad. I recently accepted a job offer at the University of Iowa Carver College of Medicine as an Editorial Associate in the Psychology department (which, by the way, I'm very excited about and grateful for, but that's another blog). So now that I have a steady income, I'm looking to move out of my parents house, where I've been staying temporarily for the past 6 months. I'm fortunate and grateful to have had a place to stay as I was going through a transition in my life, but now I need to get the hell out, as soon as possible (I don't really do well living at home, but that's also another blog).
So I'm doing the apartment searching thing, which is nearly as annoying as moving. There's a lot to choose from, and I sometimes have trouble making decisions in my life. For instance, If I'm in the market for shoes, I have to go to every store in town that sells shoes before I can decide on a new pair. After all, what if I found the same pair somewhere else for less money? Or what if the perfect shoes were at the store I didn't go to? Buying new shoes really gives me perspective as to what presidents go through when making an equally important decision, like which country to bomb.
Picking the right apartment is more important even than picking the right pair of shoes. I know from experience. I don't have that high of standards. And I've lived in some nice apartments. But I've also lived in some very shady abodes.
My second apartment in Powell, Wyo., was more like a duplex. It was half of an older house, with a nice room in the attic and a bedroom, large living room and kitchen, all for $230 a month! What a steal, I thought, it had to be too good to be true. Of course, it was. It was mostly fine in the summer, except for when the landlord set up a sprinkler outside the window to water the "grass" (it looked more like that yellow plastic grass people use at Easter). The sprinkler shot water right through the window which I had left open on a hot day, and soaked my bed. Which, of course, left me having to assure my roommate that my sheets were wet because of the sprinkler. Really, it was the sprinkler! I can't help it that Powell's water smells like urine!
Then, once vengeful winter came along with it's freezing temperatures, I realized that the insulation in the walls was thinner than Sarah Palin's resume. So to compensate, we bought some space heaters, because we didn't have to pay for electricity. That led to the fuse being blown. Logically, the fuse box that controlled our side of the house was located in the other half of the house. And our neighbor's hearing was a lot like Alex Rodriguez's explanation for his steroid use: pretty weak. So she couldn't hear our pounding on her door, and we spent a really cold night without heat.
So I was kind of desperate to get out of that apartment. The one that I chose to move into seemed alright. I guess I forgot to check one important aspect when I viewed the place: the shower. I assumed this being after the Great Depression, most bathrooms come equipped with a shower and not just a bath. I assumed wrong.
Instead of a shower fixture, the bathtub had a hookup for a shower-like nozzle that was connected to a hose, but not attached to anything. And for some reason, the tub wasn't up against a wall, so it wasn't like you could just nail it up. So I spent the first six months or so hosing myself off like an animal. I'm used to eating like an animal, smelling like an animal (I wear Squirrel for Men by Calvin Klein, really big with the ladies), but not bathing like an animal.
Most recently, when I moved to Bellingham, Wash., this summer, I lived in a house with two college students. The house was old and a little dingier than I was used to, but overall, it was fine by college house standards. Except for one minor mishap the morning after I moved in: the toilet exploded. No, really. It spewed really gross stuff over the bowl and filled the bathroom with what I can only imagine had to include human feces and urine. The mess was bravely cleaned up by my roommate, but I only used the upstairs toilet from then on (I still have reoccurring toilet-explosion PTD dreams to this day).
How did resolve these apartment-related issues? The way most people do: I wrote columns about them in the newspaper I was working for at the time. That only served to apparently make the elderly owner of the duplex in Powell cry (I guess she didn't realize I'm a humor writer). But it did finally get me a fixture to hang the hose from, so I had something that somewhat resembled a shower.
So whoever rents me my next apartment, you'd be well served to heed my service calls and complaints. Or you might find your property in this blog, to be read by tens of people.
Monday, February 23, 2009
Wednesday, February 11, 2009
A-Rod's big week
When Alex Rodriguez admitted this week to using performance-enhancing drugs for three years while playing for the Texas Rangers, baseball took a hit harder than one of A-Rod's juiced up home runs. Rodriguez is widely regarded as one of the game's top two or three players, and such a revelation certainly tarnishes if not ruins his reputation. Whether baseball fans will ultimately excuse his actions as just another transgression of the steroid era remains to be seen. The more important question is: what the HGH was he thinking?
I totally understand why marginal professionals would take PEDs to try to earn more money and notoriety. I don't condone it necessarily, but I understand. But Rodriguez had already established himself as one of the best players in the game. In 2000, his final season before joining the Rangers, he had an outstanding season. So why would he need to take any illegal substances, putting himself in such serious personal risk?
That would be like me plagiarizing a different humor writer who wasn't as funny as I am. Why would I want to cheat like that? I'm already amazingly funny. A-Rod and I, we hit home runs practically every time we step to the plate!
A-Rod says in an interview with ESPN's Peter Gammons that he did it because he was under a lot of pressure to perform at a high level after signing with Texas. I guess we all deal with pressure in different ways, I suppose. But did he have to cheat? Why couldn't he have handled the pressure the way most people do, like overeating. Possibly drinking. Take it out on others. Work himself to the bone, realize he wasn't satisfied with any of his results, and fall into a shame spiral? You know, healthy ways of dealing with pressure.
But it's difficult to be too upset with Rodriguez. After all, it seems like his cool demeanor on the baseball field doesn't translate to a cool and popular guy in the clubhouse. To quote A-Rod from the Gammons interview:
"Peter, in our clubhouse, everybody makes fun of me. I'm talking about from the clubhouse kid, to every coach, Larry, Mike, Joe Torre. Every guy on the team. And I like it. I like taking it. I am not a good ragger, but I am a good receiver... That's really a compliment the guys feel that comfortable that they can actually make fun of me at any time. So did I hear A-Fraud? We joked around about a lot of things. Listen, 25 guys have 25 different nicknames. So to me there's no harm, no foul there."
It appears A-Rod is the Yankees' whipping boy. And by the way, Alex, it's probably not a sign of friendship that everyone makes fun of you. It's so prevalent, it's even part of the Yankee Stadium tour.
Tour guide: And this, folks, is All-Star Alex Rodriguez, or A-Fraud as I like to call him. He also responds to A-Clod, A-Moron or A-Lawd, as in 'lawd he sure is a loser!' Isn't that right, Lexie? Feel free to kick him in the groin if you want, he won't mind. Don't be shy!
So I do feel bad for Rodriguez. He's getting hammered by respected journalists in the media. He's also getting hammered by the New York Post, which ran the front-page headline "A-Hole" the day after Rodriguez's confession. That's really mean (and funny).
Rodriguez was relatively forthright in his interview. But some of his responses were sketchy. Like saying he doesn't even know exactly what substance he's guilty of using, because it was such a "loosey-goosey era." He could have taken steroids, HGH or injected Old Spice into his veigns, who really knows?
But I'm starting to realize why A-Rod is not highly regarded amongst his teammates. First, he says things like "loosey-goosey." The last time someone said that was, um, in the 1920s. And did you see the outfit he wore for the Gammons interview? The lamest blue sweater over a collar shirt combination I've ever seen! He looked like a librarian...or Mr. Rogers.
A-Rod can beg for mercy all he wants, and maybe he will be forgiven in the eyes of baseball fans. But if not, he's reaping what he's sown, or in this case, injected. And at the end of the day, he still gets to go home and get a little loosey-goosey with Madonna, if you know what I mean.
I totally understand why marginal professionals would take PEDs to try to earn more money and notoriety. I don't condone it necessarily, but I understand. But Rodriguez had already established himself as one of the best players in the game. In 2000, his final season before joining the Rangers, he had an outstanding season. So why would he need to take any illegal substances, putting himself in such serious personal risk?
That would be like me plagiarizing a different humor writer who wasn't as funny as I am. Why would I want to cheat like that? I'm already amazingly funny. A-Rod and I, we hit home runs practically every time we step to the plate!
A-Rod says in an interview with ESPN's Peter Gammons that he did it because he was under a lot of pressure to perform at a high level after signing with Texas. I guess we all deal with pressure in different ways, I suppose. But did he have to cheat? Why couldn't he have handled the pressure the way most people do, like overeating. Possibly drinking. Take it out on others. Work himself to the bone, realize he wasn't satisfied with any of his results, and fall into a shame spiral? You know, healthy ways of dealing with pressure.
But it's difficult to be too upset with Rodriguez. After all, it seems like his cool demeanor on the baseball field doesn't translate to a cool and popular guy in the clubhouse. To quote A-Rod from the Gammons interview:
"Peter, in our clubhouse, everybody makes fun of me. I'm talking about from the clubhouse kid, to every coach, Larry, Mike, Joe Torre. Every guy on the team. And I like it. I like taking it. I am not a good ragger, but I am a good receiver... That's really a compliment the guys feel that comfortable that they can actually make fun of me at any time. So did I hear A-Fraud? We joked around about a lot of things. Listen, 25 guys have 25 different nicknames. So to me there's no harm, no foul there."
It appears A-Rod is the Yankees' whipping boy. And by the way, Alex, it's probably not a sign of friendship that everyone makes fun of you. It's so prevalent, it's even part of the Yankee Stadium tour.
Tour guide: And this, folks, is All-Star Alex Rodriguez, or A-Fraud as I like to call him. He also responds to A-Clod, A-Moron or A-Lawd, as in 'lawd he sure is a loser!' Isn't that right, Lexie? Feel free to kick him in the groin if you want, he won't mind. Don't be shy!
So I do feel bad for Rodriguez. He's getting hammered by respected journalists in the media. He's also getting hammered by the New York Post, which ran the front-page headline "A-Hole" the day after Rodriguez's confession. That's really mean (and funny).
Rodriguez was relatively forthright in his interview. But some of his responses were sketchy. Like saying he doesn't even know exactly what substance he's guilty of using, because it was such a "loosey-goosey era." He could have taken steroids, HGH or injected Old Spice into his veigns, who really knows?
But I'm starting to realize why A-Rod is not highly regarded amongst his teammates. First, he says things like "loosey-goosey." The last time someone said that was, um, in the 1920s. And did you see the outfit he wore for the Gammons interview? The lamest blue sweater over a collar shirt combination I've ever seen! He looked like a librarian...or Mr. Rogers.
A-Rod can beg for mercy all he wants, and maybe he will be forgiven in the eyes of baseball fans. But if not, he's reaping what he's sown, or in this case, injected. And at the end of the day, he still gets to go home and get a little loosey-goosey with Madonna, if you know what I mean.
Thursday, February 05, 2009
Texty situations
I feel so much more modern writing this humor blog. It's way cooler than the humor columns I used to write for dusty old newspapers. Frankly, I'm glad not in that industry right at the moment. I have a deep and complete love for newspaper journalism and those who work in the field, but the economy has rocked an already struggling industry. It's almost as dead as Rod Blagojevich's political career (Don't cry to hard for the now-impeached B-Rod, though, as he seems to have a new career as a TV show guest. I'm sure Illinois citizens are seething about his recent media blitz. Soon they'll be paying him off to stay off camera).
Moreover, my move to the blog world gives me instant cyber cred, which I am in desperate need of. You see, I've mostly been left behind when it comes to the most utilized form of high-tech communicating: cell-phone texting.
Is he seriously writing a post about texting now? In 2009? OMG, ppl hv bn txting 4 lk 10 yrs now! Wht, is he lke 30 or smthing. LOL!
I do some texting, but I try to avoid it. My cell phone plan charges me 20 cents for each text read or sent. And given that I am a financially crafty individual (editor's note: unspeakably cheap), I keep my texting activities to a minimum. In fact, I request that my friends keep their text messages sent to me to 15 characters or less. I can read that much of a preview of the message for free! Take that Verizon!
But my lack of texting isn't helping my image any. Everybody texts. Blind people text more than I do. My coworker gets text messages all day long. And he looks so cool and important reading his new messages! Cell phones vibrating with the promise of a new, juicy text message are like the clipboards of the 1990s. Everybody looks more important when holding one.
Just to try and look cool, I've resorted to signing up for as many free texts as Verizon will send me, such as payment reminders. I always try to look really amused or surprised when I get one.
OMG, how pathetic! & I thot hz Ashlee Simpson obseshun wz bizR!
All this new texting brings up some interesting social quandaries. What messages are acceptable to relay by text? For instance, can you ask somebody out by text? I say yes. For one, nothing says you like somebody more than the knowledge that they might have spent up to 20 cents to avoid social awkwardness just to ask you out. And besides, if the recipient says no, you can always claim it was a sarcastic text. Since it's very difficult to read sarcasm in a text, it's the perfect cover!
"Oh, yeah, when I said you're really hot and if you don't go out with my I'll be totally crushed, I was just kidding. You didn't get that?"
But can you break up with somebody via text? I say no. If it's not acceptable according to Miley Cyrus, it's not acceptable for me (that goes for all things in life). That's the kind of thing you owe to your significant other to do in person. Or at least on Facebook.
Until I finally get a cell phone plan worthy of the 2000s, I'll probably be on the outside looking in on this texting culture. But feel free to text me feedback on my blogs as much as you want, in 15 characters or less. Believe me, it can be done.
"Hilarious!"
"U R so funny!"
"I liv 4 ur blog!"
Moreover, my move to the blog world gives me instant cyber cred, which I am in desperate need of. You see, I've mostly been left behind when it comes to the most utilized form of high-tech communicating: cell-phone texting.
Is he seriously writing a post about texting now? In 2009? OMG, ppl hv bn txting 4 lk 10 yrs now! Wht, is he lke 30 or smthing. LOL!
I do some texting, but I try to avoid it. My cell phone plan charges me 20 cents for each text read or sent. And given that I am a financially crafty individual (editor's note: unspeakably cheap), I keep my texting activities to a minimum. In fact, I request that my friends keep their text messages sent to me to 15 characters or less. I can read that much of a preview of the message for free! Take that Verizon!
But my lack of texting isn't helping my image any. Everybody texts. Blind people text more than I do. My coworker gets text messages all day long. And he looks so cool and important reading his new messages! Cell phones vibrating with the promise of a new, juicy text message are like the clipboards of the 1990s. Everybody looks more important when holding one.
Just to try and look cool, I've resorted to signing up for as many free texts as Verizon will send me, such as payment reminders. I always try to look really amused or surprised when I get one.
OMG, how pathetic! & I thot hz Ashlee Simpson obseshun wz bizR!
All this new texting brings up some interesting social quandaries. What messages are acceptable to relay by text? For instance, can you ask somebody out by text? I say yes. For one, nothing says you like somebody more than the knowledge that they might have spent up to 20 cents to avoid social awkwardness just to ask you out. And besides, if the recipient says no, you can always claim it was a sarcastic text. Since it's very difficult to read sarcasm in a text, it's the perfect cover!
"Oh, yeah, when I said you're really hot and if you don't go out with my I'll be totally crushed, I was just kidding. You didn't get that?"
But can you break up with somebody via text? I say no. If it's not acceptable according to Miley Cyrus, it's not acceptable for me (that goes for all things in life). That's the kind of thing you owe to your significant other to do in person. Or at least on Facebook.
Until I finally get a cell phone plan worthy of the 2000s, I'll probably be on the outside looking in on this texting culture. But feel free to text me feedback on my blogs as much as you want, in 15 characters or less. Believe me, it can be done.
"Hilarious!"
"U R so funny!"
"I liv 4 ur blog!"
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