I was snacking on some double-stuffed E.L. Fudge cookies during dinner at work tonight, when all of the sudden, I looked down and realized that there was a hunk of plastic lodged in the chocolate stuffing.
Huh, I thought, glad I didn't bite from the other end first.
I wondered if I could sue the Keebler elves.
But then I started thinking about, what if I won? What if I got a huge settlement and it bankrupted the elves? They would be forced to close down the tree with the magical oven. I can see them now -- little elves with little knapsacks slung over their backs as they close down the tree for good and go their separate ways. Probably shedding elf-sized tears.
Too sad.
I couldn't do that to Ernie and the cookie crew. So I threw the cookie away.
It was just as well. I noticed when I got home that the plastic tray the cookies came in had a piece missing, so it must have broken at some point and gotten lodged in the cookie post-elf participation.
But if I ever find anything in my Cocoa Krispies, I am sooo taking down Snap, Crackle and Pop.
Saturday, April 30, 2005
Friday, April 22, 2005
Waxing nostalgic
I saw "Fever Pitch" earlier today (or yesterday by the time everyone reads this). It was pretty good. A few strange moments -- either surprising seriousness or out-of-place humor where the Farrelly brothers fall into old habits -- but otherwise very cute and funny. Jimmy Fallon and Drew Barrymore may just be the most adorable on-screen couple ever. And of course, it was about the greatest comeback in baseball playoff history (Red Sox vs. Yankees last year, for those of you who may not know what I'm talking about). And while I was immensely pleased that the Red Sox were able to break the curse of the Bambino, it got me thinking of other sports highlights that I've witnessed. (Incidentally, if you have too short of an attention span, there's an interactive portion of the blog at the end of the post.)
It was June 2001 -- the Stanley Cup finals. The Colorado Avalanche vs. the New Jersey Devils. It was already historic because it was the first time in more than a decade that the No. 1 seed from the East would face the No. 1 seed from the West in the finals. This was back in the glory days (at least as I remember them) of the Avalanche -- Joe Sakic; Peter Forsberg; the greatest goalie of all time, Patrick Roy; and so many other greats. It was destined to be an amazing matchup. But for us Avalanche fans it was about more than winning a second Stanley Cup. We were rooting for a man named Ray Bourque. In his 22-year NHL career, he had won numerous accolades, but one had always escaped him -- the Stanley Cup. So he had joined the Avs from the Boston Bruins because he thought it would give him a better shot at winning the Cup before he retired. Colorado was rooting for him, Boston was rooting for him. We wanted the Cup, but we wanted it for him.
And so the series began ... and it was epic. Game 1 went to Colorado in a rousing victory. Game 2 went to New Jersey. And back and forth it went. By the time we got to Game 6, it was nerve-wracking -- the Devils led the series 3-2. They only needed one more game to win and Game 6 was in New Jersey. But miraculously, the Avs pulled it out and the battle went to Game 7 ... at home in Colorado. It was just the third time in 30 seasons that the finals had gone to seven games.
During all this, I was at the University of North Carolina at internship training. But I and several of the other guys there would go out and watch the games or watch on the TV in the lounge of the dorm where we were all staying. As Game 7 went on, I was glued to the TV. I lived and died with every shot taken, every shot missed, every goal scored.
And in the end, Colorado won, 3-1. It was magical. I cheered in excitement. But then came "the moment" -- when the players handed the Stanley Cup to Ray Bourque and he lifted it above his head, his lifelong dream finally accomplished. It's the moment that still makes me a little teary-eyed to think about.
I have a friend who was actually at the game and he said he's never experienced anything like it. The place just exploded in celebration -- everyone cheering, grown men crying because they were so happy, strangers hugging one another.
And I guess that's what moves me the most about many of these sports victories. In a world where there are so many things to divide people, where more often than not people don't give each other the time of day, where strangers won't even make eye contact with each other, much less smile -- every once and awhile, you come across a moment when those differences don't matter, when no one is a stranger. Everyone is united in their love of a team and the common cause of celebrating its victory.
And for a moment -- just a moment -- you see how amazing human beings can be to one another.
And then the rioting usually starts.
And of course, because sports competitions are a zero-sum game, whenever there's a winner, there's a loser. And I can't help but feel for them, too, because I've also been there.
Nov. 8, 1997 -- my freshman year at the University of Missouri. I'm at the MU-Nebraska football game with my roommate. We've got seats close to one of the end zones and not far from the field. Although the rivalry with Nebraska is second only to the one with Kansas, no one really expects Missouri to win the game. Nebraska was undefeated for the season, hadn't lost a Big 12 game during the regular season in almost five years and had won the last 18 times they had played Missouri. The stats were not in MU's favor.
But lo and behold, the Tigers began beating the Cornhuskers. By the time the game was almost over, MU led 38-31 with just more than a minute left to play. The air was electric. People were crowding around, ready to rush the field and tear down the goal posts. We could taste victory -- and one of the greatest upsets ever. And we were there to see it firsthand.
And then it happened. Right in front of me.
Nebraska had flown down the field -- 67 yards in 62 seconds. Then, on third down with seven seconds left until sweet, sweet victory was ours ... one of the most freak "accidents" in college football history occurred. The Nebraska quarterback threw the ball into the end zone, but the receiver couldn't get to it. But as he fell, he kicked it and it landed in the arms of a diving Nebraska player.
Touchdown.
As you may know, it's illegal to purposefully kick a ball in a football game and doing so can result in a 15-yard penalty. But it was ruled accidental, a claim that remains somewhat dubious, particularly for Mizzou grads. But it was what it was. And after Nebraska scored the extra point, the game was tied and went into overtime.
But by then, we knew it was over. The momentum had shifted. The stadium, once raucous, was nearly silent. No one could believe what had happened. The football gods had taunted us, waving the possibility of an amazing upset before us, only to snatch it away at the last possible second as we reached out to see if it could possibly be real.
Nebraska won, 45-38.
You've never seen an entire stadium full of people file out and disperse into the streets as quietly as we did that day. It was heartbreaking.
And so, my dear friends, if you've read this entire lengthy trip down sports memory lane (or just skipped to the end), I conclude by asking you to share your top sports moments -- the wins and the losses. So go ahead, what's your most memorable game?
It was June 2001 -- the Stanley Cup finals. The Colorado Avalanche vs. the New Jersey Devils. It was already historic because it was the first time in more than a decade that the No. 1 seed from the East would face the No. 1 seed from the West in the finals. This was back in the glory days (at least as I remember them) of the Avalanche -- Joe Sakic; Peter Forsberg; the greatest goalie of all time, Patrick Roy; and so many other greats. It was destined to be an amazing matchup. But for us Avalanche fans it was about more than winning a second Stanley Cup. We were rooting for a man named Ray Bourque. In his 22-year NHL career, he had won numerous accolades, but one had always escaped him -- the Stanley Cup. So he had joined the Avs from the Boston Bruins because he thought it would give him a better shot at winning the Cup before he retired. Colorado was rooting for him, Boston was rooting for him. We wanted the Cup, but we wanted it for him.
And so the series began ... and it was epic. Game 1 went to Colorado in a rousing victory. Game 2 went to New Jersey. And back and forth it went. By the time we got to Game 6, it was nerve-wracking -- the Devils led the series 3-2. They only needed one more game to win and Game 6 was in New Jersey. But miraculously, the Avs pulled it out and the battle went to Game 7 ... at home in Colorado. It was just the third time in 30 seasons that the finals had gone to seven games.
During all this, I was at the University of North Carolina at internship training. But I and several of the other guys there would go out and watch the games or watch on the TV in the lounge of the dorm where we were all staying. As Game 7 went on, I was glued to the TV. I lived and died with every shot taken, every shot missed, every goal scored.
And in the end, Colorado won, 3-1. It was magical. I cheered in excitement. But then came "the moment" -- when the players handed the Stanley Cup to Ray Bourque and he lifted it above his head, his lifelong dream finally accomplished. It's the moment that still makes me a little teary-eyed to think about.
I have a friend who was actually at the game and he said he's never experienced anything like it. The place just exploded in celebration -- everyone cheering, grown men crying because they were so happy, strangers hugging one another.
And I guess that's what moves me the most about many of these sports victories. In a world where there are so many things to divide people, where more often than not people don't give each other the time of day, where strangers won't even make eye contact with each other, much less smile -- every once and awhile, you come across a moment when those differences don't matter, when no one is a stranger. Everyone is united in their love of a team and the common cause of celebrating its victory.
And for a moment -- just a moment -- you see how amazing human beings can be to one another.
And then the rioting usually starts.
And of course, because sports competitions are a zero-sum game, whenever there's a winner, there's a loser. And I can't help but feel for them, too, because I've also been there.
Nov. 8, 1997 -- my freshman year at the University of Missouri. I'm at the MU-Nebraska football game with my roommate. We've got seats close to one of the end zones and not far from the field. Although the rivalry with Nebraska is second only to the one with Kansas, no one really expects Missouri to win the game. Nebraska was undefeated for the season, hadn't lost a Big 12 game during the regular season in almost five years and had won the last 18 times they had played Missouri. The stats were not in MU's favor.
But lo and behold, the Tigers began beating the Cornhuskers. By the time the game was almost over, MU led 38-31 with just more than a minute left to play. The air was electric. People were crowding around, ready to rush the field and tear down the goal posts. We could taste victory -- and one of the greatest upsets ever. And we were there to see it firsthand.
And then it happened. Right in front of me.
Nebraska had flown down the field -- 67 yards in 62 seconds. Then, on third down with seven seconds left until sweet, sweet victory was ours ... one of the most freak "accidents" in college football history occurred. The Nebraska quarterback threw the ball into the end zone, but the receiver couldn't get to it. But as he fell, he kicked it and it landed in the arms of a diving Nebraska player.
Touchdown.
As you may know, it's illegal to purposefully kick a ball in a football game and doing so can result in a 15-yard penalty. But it was ruled accidental, a claim that remains somewhat dubious, particularly for Mizzou grads. But it was what it was. And after Nebraska scored the extra point, the game was tied and went into overtime.
But by then, we knew it was over. The momentum had shifted. The stadium, once raucous, was nearly silent. No one could believe what had happened. The football gods had taunted us, waving the possibility of an amazing upset before us, only to snatch it away at the last possible second as we reached out to see if it could possibly be real.
Nebraska won, 45-38.
You've never seen an entire stadium full of people file out and disperse into the streets as quietly as we did that day. It was heartbreaking.
And so, my dear friends, if you've read this entire lengthy trip down sports memory lane (or just skipped to the end), I conclude by asking you to share your top sports moments -- the wins and the losses. So go ahead, what's your most memorable game?
Wednesday, April 20, 2005
Going phishing
Sorry I've been bad about posting on the blog lately. I'm in the middle of getting myself organized (sort of a spring cleaning, I guess). I'm finally unpacked and have pictures hung and that sort of thing and now I'm working on cleaning up and organizing files, papers, e-mail boxes, etc. So bear with me for a bit, but I promise to get back into the groove soon.
In the meantime, follow this link to an interesting Washington Post piece on phishing scams. Phishing, if you don't know, is when someone sends you a fake e-mail to get you to reveal personal information that they can then take advantage of (credit card numbers, bank accounts, social security number, etc.). Identity theft is becoming a lot more common, so I'm sure you've gotten some. But take the quiz and see if you can tell the real e-mails from the fake ones. The answers will also give you a better idea of what to look for when you get an e-mail like that.
Best rule of thumb: Always be skeptical.
In the meantime, follow this link to an interesting Washington Post piece on phishing scams. Phishing, if you don't know, is when someone sends you a fake e-mail to get you to reveal personal information that they can then take advantage of (credit card numbers, bank accounts, social security number, etc.). Identity theft is becoming a lot more common, so I'm sure you've gotten some. But take the quiz and see if you can tell the real e-mails from the fake ones. The answers will also give you a better idea of what to look for when you get an e-mail like that.
Best rule of thumb: Always be skeptical.
Thursday, April 14, 2005
I feel like a VIP
For some reason, all the employees at my work (and I think a local radio station) were offered a free, advanced screening of the movie "Kung Fu Hustle" tonight and an advanced screening of "Unleashed" (the movie with Jet Li by the guy who wrote and produced "The Professional") in a few weeks.
Fortuitously, I had the night off this week, so I went. It was a fun movie. Very "Matrix" meets "Kung Fu" meets "Spaceballs."
Yeah, it's a weird combo; I know.
At any rate, you can read my full review on Gig Matrix.
Fortuitously, I had the night off this week, so I went. It was a fun movie. Very "Matrix" meets "Kung Fu" meets "Spaceballs."
Yeah, it's a weird combo; I know.
At any rate, you can read my full review on Gig Matrix.
Tuesday, April 12, 2005
Finances, feuds and fatties
If you're like me and don't know a lot about investing or financial things in general but want to learn, a new TV show called "MoneyTrack" is supposed to be an informative look at finances for average Joe's. Read more here, but it's on public television (the Web site hasn't been updated to say where it will show yet, though) and includes segments on "Becoming an Educated Investor," "Couples and Money," "Financial Survival Kit" and "Technology."
As proof that life imitates art, two families in Florida escalated their feud into a shootout after the son from one family and the daughter from the other began dating. Read the whole Shakespearean tale here.
But the most disturbing news of all as of late: Cookie Monster is cutting back on the cookies. (Thanks to Tosser for the heads-up.) Read the article, but basically it comes down to wanting to portray a healthier image. I can understand, and applaud, Sesame Street's efforts to encourage children to eat healthier, but it just feels wrong. It would be like if Ernie gave up rubber duckies. Also, the Cookie Monster's name was Sid?!?! What the ... ?!
I have to admit, the more darkly humorous side of me thinks it would be more effective to have Cookie Monster continue to binge on cookies and become morbidly obese. He could show children what it's like to not be able to lift himself off the couch, to have to catch his breath all the time, how he can't play with the other puppets.
And then, eventually, he would have a coronary and die.
Traumatic for the kids? Sure.
But I bet they lay off the cookies after that.
As proof that life imitates art, two families in Florida escalated their feud into a shootout after the son from one family and the daughter from the other began dating. Read the whole Shakespearean tale here.
But the most disturbing news of all as of late: Cookie Monster is cutting back on the cookies. (Thanks to Tosser for the heads-up.) Read the article, but basically it comes down to wanting to portray a healthier image. I can understand, and applaud, Sesame Street's efforts to encourage children to eat healthier, but it just feels wrong. It would be like if Ernie gave up rubber duckies. Also, the Cookie Monster's name was Sid?!?! What the ... ?!
I have to admit, the more darkly humorous side of me thinks it would be more effective to have Cookie Monster continue to binge on cookies and become morbidly obese. He could show children what it's like to not be able to lift himself off the couch, to have to catch his breath all the time, how he can't play with the other puppets.
And then, eventually, he would have a coronary and die.
Traumatic for the kids? Sure.
But I bet they lay off the cookies after that.
Monday, April 11, 2005
Very random thoughts
Sorry that it's been a week since I've posted anything, but here are some very unconnected thoughts:
1) I've discovered that the Italian word for someone with papal potential is "papabili."
What a cool word. I totally plan on using it more often now.
2) Speaking for things I'm adding to my lexicon, I've been trying to add two Southern expressions I've learned since moving here: "Law bless" and so-and-so "would've liked to have died." The former means "oh my goodness" and the latter means someone couldn't believe it.
At least I think. It's all a little confusing.
3) If you want to see something that will totally blow your mind, check out this Honda commercial. It's been around for a while, but I'm just now getting around to mentioning it. It took 606 tries to get it right. And it's awesome.
4) I was in D.C. for half a day last week (I apologize to the many of you in the area I didn't tell or see, but I promise that I will be up there often and will see you soon.) and saw this just outside the Jefferson Memorial:
I thought it was an interesting juxtaposition with this, just in front of the steps leading up to the memorial ...
Yes, those are large, puppet dogs playing rock 'n' roll.
But I'm sure when they were singing "Who Let the Dogs Out," the dawgs they were referring to were the Founding Fathers.
1) I've discovered that the Italian word for someone with papal potential is "papabili."
What a cool word. I totally plan on using it more often now.
2) Speaking for things I'm adding to my lexicon, I've been trying to add two Southern expressions I've learned since moving here: "Law bless" and so-and-so "would've liked to have died." The former means "oh my goodness" and the latter means someone couldn't believe it.
At least I think. It's all a little confusing.
3) If you want to see something that will totally blow your mind, check out this Honda commercial. It's been around for a while, but I'm just now getting around to mentioning it. It took 606 tries to get it right. And it's awesome.
4) I was in D.C. for half a day last week (I apologize to the many of you in the area I didn't tell or see, but I promise that I will be up there often and will see you soon.) and saw this just outside the Jefferson Memorial:
I thought it was an interesting juxtaposition with this, just in front of the steps leading up to the memorial ...
Yes, those are large, puppet dogs playing rock 'n' roll.
But I'm sure when they were singing "Who Let the Dogs Out," the dawgs they were referring to were the Founding Fathers.
Saturday, April 02, 2005
Spring forward to a flashback
Lest you forget, turn your clocks ahead one hour at 2 a.m. Sunday morning....
As far as the flashback rodent story, during college I lived in a duplex. One semester, a friend of mine decided to sublet from one of my roommates because he was in France. She brought with her a pet hamster that she would let run around in her room at night. It wasn't a problem because the door was closed and he would always go back to his cage in the morning.
That is, until one morning when she woke up and he wasn't there. We searched and found no sign of him. She left out food, and we hoped that he would eventually find his way back. It should be noted that she lived in one of the upstairs bedrooms, while I lived in the downstairs one. A few nights later, I heard an eerie scratching in my room. I finally realized where it was coming from: inside my closet wall.
The next morning:
Me: "Anne Marie, I think I found your hamster."
AM: "GREAT! Where is he?"
Me: "In the wall of my closet."
AM: (spit take) "WHAAAA??!?!?!"
We finally deduced that the hamster had crawled into Anne Marie's walk-in closet, which connects to the crawl space and he had been stupid enough to fall/crawl into one of the holes in the floor and had fallen down an entire story (which, for a hamster, must be like falling off a 20-story building) and managed to land, alive, in the area of the wall in my closet.
Anne Marie, Reuben and I dropped some food down the hole and tried to think of ways to get him out. We made a little makeshift ladder, but it wasn't long enough. We tried leaving string down, hoping maybe he had turned into a commando hamster of some kind who could shinny his way up it. We would have built a little hamster escalator if we knew how.
But we were stuck.
Finally, with heavy hearts, we decided there was nothing we could do. He was on his own and would probably die down there.
A couple of nights after that, we were having dinner with a couple of friends and relayed the story of the trapped hamster and what we had decided. One of our friends, in his thick Southern drawl, exclaimed loudly:
"LORD ALMIGHTY!! THAT THING'S GONNA REEK WHEN IT DIES!!!!
YOU GOTTA GET IT OUTTA THERE!!"
Anne Marie and I looked at each other.
The smell. We hadn't even thought to consider how bad a smell it might make; it was just a little hamster after all.
But he was right.
We had to get it out.
I immediately left the table and grabbed a hammer and a screwdriver. I knocked on the wall several times trying to figure out where the hamster was so as not to impale the very creature I was trying to save. Like POWs, I rapped, he scratched and we managed to communicate. I used the hammer and screwdriver to create a small, rectangular opening low in the closet wall. After I had done this, we grabbed some thick gloves so the little rodent wouldn't bite anyone. You would think the hamster would be happy to see his saviors and the light of day, but no. It took a lot of coaxing and some food to finally get him where we could grab him and bring him to safety.
Not since Baby Jessica was removed from the well had there been so much rejoicing.
The next day, I bought a flat wall panel and glued it to the wall over the hole. It blended in perfectly. I doubt anyone has ever thought twice about it.
I'm happy to say that the hamster spent the rest of its days with a bit of celebrity, being the wonder hamster who had miraculously cheated death.
Well, until Christmas break when he died of natural causes.
He was buried in a shallow grave behind the duplex and now probably haunts the residents of 1811 Juniper Circle who keep wondering why, late at night, they hear scratching in the walls.
As far as the flashback rodent story, during college I lived in a duplex. One semester, a friend of mine decided to sublet from one of my roommates because he was in France. She brought with her a pet hamster that she would let run around in her room at night. It wasn't a problem because the door was closed and he would always go back to his cage in the morning.
That is, until one morning when she woke up and he wasn't there. We searched and found no sign of him. She left out food, and we hoped that he would eventually find his way back. It should be noted that she lived in one of the upstairs bedrooms, while I lived in the downstairs one. A few nights later, I heard an eerie scratching in my room. I finally realized where it was coming from: inside my closet wall.
The next morning:
Me: "Anne Marie, I think I found your hamster."
AM: "GREAT! Where is he?"
Me: "In the wall of my closet."
AM: (spit take) "WHAAAA??!?!?!"
We finally deduced that the hamster had crawled into Anne Marie's walk-in closet, which connects to the crawl space and he had been stupid enough to fall/crawl into one of the holes in the floor and had fallen down an entire story (which, for a hamster, must be like falling off a 20-story building) and managed to land, alive, in the area of the wall in my closet.
Anne Marie, Reuben and I dropped some food down the hole and tried to think of ways to get him out. We made a little makeshift ladder, but it wasn't long enough. We tried leaving string down, hoping maybe he had turned into a commando hamster of some kind who could shinny his way up it. We would have built a little hamster escalator if we knew how.
But we were stuck.
Finally, with heavy hearts, we decided there was nothing we could do. He was on his own and would probably die down there.
A couple of nights after that, we were having dinner with a couple of friends and relayed the story of the trapped hamster and what we had decided. One of our friends, in his thick Southern drawl, exclaimed loudly:
"LORD ALMIGHTY!! THAT THING'S GONNA REEK WHEN IT DIES!!!!
YOU GOTTA GET IT OUTTA THERE!!"
Anne Marie and I looked at each other.
The smell. We hadn't even thought to consider how bad a smell it might make; it was just a little hamster after all.
But he was right.
We had to get it out.
I immediately left the table and grabbed a hammer and a screwdriver. I knocked on the wall several times trying to figure out where the hamster was so as not to impale the very creature I was trying to save. Like POWs, I rapped, he scratched and we managed to communicate. I used the hammer and screwdriver to create a small, rectangular opening low in the closet wall. After I had done this, we grabbed some thick gloves so the little rodent wouldn't bite anyone. You would think the hamster would be happy to see his saviors and the light of day, but no. It took a lot of coaxing and some food to finally get him where we could grab him and bring him to safety.
Not since Baby Jessica was removed from the well had there been so much rejoicing.
The next day, I bought a flat wall panel and glued it to the wall over the hole. It blended in perfectly. I doubt anyone has ever thought twice about it.
I'm happy to say that the hamster spent the rest of its days with a bit of celebrity, being the wonder hamster who had miraculously cheated death.
Well, until Christmas break when he died of natural causes.
He was buried in a shallow grave behind the duplex and now probably haunts the residents of 1811 Juniper Circle who keep wondering why, late at night, they hear scratching in the walls.
Friday, April 01, 2005
Life's other certainty
Geez, I make a reference yesterday to discussing death and then today Terri Schiavo dies and the pope comes awfully close.
I considered discussing what has become the Schiavo debacle, but with so many other pundits and people who have never seen/met her weighing in on the situation and giving medical diagnoses, I'll think I'll stay out of the fray. Besides, what expertise could I possibly have to offer that "psychic" John Edward hasn't already?
So on to my story:
A few days ago, I finally put two and two together and realized that the odor problem in my hallway closet was connected to an earlier problem I had involving a roommate.
Unfortunately, my roommate was of the small, furry, rodent type. (See?!? Now my apartment seems like a crap-hole again and nobody's ever going to want to come and visit me...)
About a week and a half after I moved in, I noticed that a hole had been chewed through the plastic bag of the bread I had left on the kitchen counter and part of the bread had been eaten. I was pretty sure I hadn't done that in my sleep, so I told the landlords that I had a rodent problem.
The next day, they sent a maintenance guy with a few sticky traps that he put down in strategic positions. He also stuffed a couple of holes with steel wool, which he said the rodents won't chew through.
I checked the traps daily but nothing happened for a couple of days. Then late one night, I heard the scurrying of tiny feet in the vents.
Not a good sign.
The next morning, I woke up and realized that my little friend was not impressed with my efforts to catch it. One of the sticky traps that lay between the stove and refrigerator had been scooted to the side to allow passage. Another trap behind the stove had an upside-down cockroach trap on top of it. I don't even know where the cockroach trap came from! So not only did this rodent know that the sticky traps should be avoided, it dragged some cockroach trap it found who-knows-where and dropped it on the sticky part so that it didn't have to worry about it.
It was at this point that I began to wonder if I was dealing with an escaped lab rat that had been genetically altered to become supersmart.
Or worse, I thought, what if it's a squirrel? I actually worried about this latter possibility because:
a) I really rather like squirrels.
b) If you've ever tried to prevent them from doing something, you know squirrels are unbelievably clever.
I finally decided it probably wasn't a squirrel because, if it had been, I would have already returned from work late one night to find my cupboards cleaned out; my Xbox, TV and other valuables gone; and a spray-painted note scrawled on the wall saying: "DEEZ NUTS!!!!"
Ahem.
Anyhow, I rearranged some of the steel wool to better block one of the holes and waited. I haven't heard or seen Brain (nor his cohort Pinky) since, and I've even begun keeping bread out on the counter again without any problem. So I had sort of forgotten about it. But when the closet started stinking and then the same odor would show up in the bathroom sometimes (please keep your bathroom humor to yourself), I began to realize that the smell was coming from inside the wall that the closet and bathroom share.
That's when I had my revelation, which, after talking with a few others about it, I think is probably correct:
There's a dead rodent in there.
Now, having some experience with extracting rodents from a wall (see flashback post tomorrow), I considered just going in there myself and taking the danged thing out. But I hesitate to do that because I don't really know where in the wall it might be. I talked with the landlords, but they're not quite sure what to do either. I figure the smell will eventually go away and in the meantime, I bought air freshener for the closet and under the bathroom sink where it's connected to that wall.
On the bright side, it's totally not noticeable with the closet door closed (unless of course, you go into the closet) and occasionally in the bathroom. Plus, I think the worst of it might have passed. But then again, I don't really know what the staying power of rotting rodent is.
So there you go. Mystery solved.
I considered discussing what has become the Schiavo debacle, but with so many other pundits and people who have never seen/met her weighing in on the situation and giving medical diagnoses, I'll think I'll stay out of the fray. Besides, what expertise could I possibly have to offer that "psychic" John Edward hasn't already?
So on to my story:
A few days ago, I finally put two and two together and realized that the odor problem in my hallway closet was connected to an earlier problem I had involving a roommate.
Unfortunately, my roommate was of the small, furry, rodent type. (See?!? Now my apartment seems like a crap-hole again and nobody's ever going to want to come and visit me...)
About a week and a half after I moved in, I noticed that a hole had been chewed through the plastic bag of the bread I had left on the kitchen counter and part of the bread had been eaten. I was pretty sure I hadn't done that in my sleep, so I told the landlords that I had a rodent problem.
The next day, they sent a maintenance guy with a few sticky traps that he put down in strategic positions. He also stuffed a couple of holes with steel wool, which he said the rodents won't chew through.
I checked the traps daily but nothing happened for a couple of days. Then late one night, I heard the scurrying of tiny feet in the vents.
Not a good sign.
The next morning, I woke up and realized that my little friend was not impressed with my efforts to catch it. One of the sticky traps that lay between the stove and refrigerator had been scooted to the side to allow passage. Another trap behind the stove had an upside-down cockroach trap on top of it. I don't even know where the cockroach trap came from! So not only did this rodent know that the sticky traps should be avoided, it dragged some cockroach trap it found who-knows-where and dropped it on the sticky part so that it didn't have to worry about it.
It was at this point that I began to wonder if I was dealing with an escaped lab rat that had been genetically altered to become supersmart.
Or worse, I thought, what if it's a squirrel? I actually worried about this latter possibility because:
a) I really rather like squirrels.
b) If you've ever tried to prevent them from doing something, you know squirrels are unbelievably clever.
I finally decided it probably wasn't a squirrel because, if it had been, I would have already returned from work late one night to find my cupboards cleaned out; my Xbox, TV and other valuables gone; and a spray-painted note scrawled on the wall saying: "DEEZ NUTS!!!!"
Ahem.
Anyhow, I rearranged some of the steel wool to better block one of the holes and waited. I haven't heard or seen Brain (nor his cohort Pinky) since, and I've even begun keeping bread out on the counter again without any problem. So I had sort of forgotten about it. But when the closet started stinking and then the same odor would show up in the bathroom sometimes (please keep your bathroom humor to yourself), I began to realize that the smell was coming from inside the wall that the closet and bathroom share.
That's when I had my revelation, which, after talking with a few others about it, I think is probably correct:
There's a dead rodent in there.
Now, having some experience with extracting rodents from a wall (see flashback post tomorrow), I considered just going in there myself and taking the danged thing out. But I hesitate to do that because I don't really know where in the wall it might be. I talked with the landlords, but they're not quite sure what to do either. I figure the smell will eventually go away and in the meantime, I bought air freshener for the closet and under the bathroom sink where it's connected to that wall.
On the bright side, it's totally not noticeable with the closet door closed (unless of course, you go into the closet) and occasionally in the bathroom. Plus, I think the worst of it might have passed. But then again, I don't really know what the staying power of rotting rodent is.
So there you go. Mystery solved.
Thursday, March 31, 2005
One of life's certainties
I just finished doing my taxes for 2004. If you haven't done so already, I strongly suggest e-filing. You can do federal taxes and some state taxes for free, and it's way easier than normal filing. Depending on where you live and if you meet the criteria, there's a free online version of Turbo Tax that's very painless and pretty plain-spoken.
Tomorrow: Life's other certainty and how it relates to the smell in my closet.
Tomorrow: Life's other certainty and how it relates to the smell in my closet.
Wednesday, March 30, 2005
Things you never knew you needed
Ever wanted a way to lose weight while playing video games? Now you can! And for the low, low price of only $1,000 to buy what I'm quite certain is a totally impractical way of playing video games. Read more at Gig Matrix.
Women, ever wanted to pee your name in the snow? I thought so. Now you too can understand the freedom of peeing while standing up. Thank the makers of another invention that's been in the news lately: the P-Mate! Unzip the pants, but this funnel-type contraption over ... you know, and voila -- you're peeing like a man.
And they say there's still a gender gap.
Women, ever wanted to pee your name in the snow? I thought so. Now you too can understand the freedom of peeing while standing up. Thank the makers of another invention that's been in the news lately: the P-Mate! Unzip the pants, but this funnel-type contraption over ... you know, and voila -- you're peeing like a man.
And they say there's still a gender gap.
Sunday, March 27, 2005
Put me in coach -- I'm ready to play ...
("Centerfield" lyrics by John Fogerty)
I've joined a fantasy baseball team with some former co-workers and we had our draft yesterday. I think it went pretty well considering that I don't really know what I'm doing and have now committed myself for an entire season to following statistics and the list of injured players and starters and a bunch of things I never really paid any attention to before. I did some research before the draft and tried to make my picks wisely. But truth be told, I was very tempted to draft players based on the quirkiness of their names. My favorite pick was an outfielder named Coco Crisp. I was also would have liked to have drafted the following: Albert Pujhols (pronounced poo-holes), Chipper Jones and David DeJesus. I also got Troy Percival, which is just a cool name.
In other sporting news, I was pleasantly surprised on Friday to find that in the office's NCAA pool, I've actually got a decent shot with one of my brackets. (The other is waaaay down at the bottom of the rankings.) I'm trying not to get my hopes up too much, but it's pretty exciting nonetheless and made both of Saturday's games rather nerve-wracking because I bet on Illinois and Louisville to make it to the Final Four (and Illinois to win it all).
I should mention that it's technically illegal to bet on college sports and so, of course, there's no money involved in the office pool. (Just as I'm sure there's not in your office.) But if there were , I could have a shot at winning almost $1,500. (It's a big office.)
Gee, if only we had bet money...
I've joined a fantasy baseball team with some former co-workers and we had our draft yesterday. I think it went pretty well considering that I don't really know what I'm doing and have now committed myself for an entire season to following statistics and the list of injured players and starters and a bunch of things I never really paid any attention to before. I did some research before the draft and tried to make my picks wisely. But truth be told, I was very tempted to draft players based on the quirkiness of their names. My favorite pick was an outfielder named Coco Crisp. I was also would have liked to have drafted the following: Albert Pujhols (pronounced poo-holes), Chipper Jones and David DeJesus. I also got Troy Percival, which is just a cool name.
In other sporting news, I was pleasantly surprised on Friday to find that in the office's NCAA pool, I've actually got a decent shot with one of my brackets. (The other is waaaay down at the bottom of the rankings.) I'm trying not to get my hopes up too much, but it's pretty exciting nonetheless and made both of Saturday's games rather nerve-wracking because I bet on Illinois and Louisville to make it to the Final Four (and Illinois to win it all).
I should mention that it's technically illegal to bet on college sports and so, of course, there's no money involved in the office pool. (Just as I'm sure there's not in your office.) But if there were , I could have a shot at winning almost $1,500. (It's a big office.)
Gee, if only we had bet money...
Friday, March 25, 2005
I'm doomed
I always find it interesting to see what the media focuses on in the personal life of someone who has done something bad.
For instance, yesterday I was reading about the kid in Minnesota who went on a shooting spree in his school after killing his grandfather and others. The relevance of his connection with an online hate group is obvious. But more odd, to me at least, was the amount of time spent in the story on his supposed fascination with zombies.
Yes, zombies.
Apparently, he had contributed to fan fiction sites about zombies, had written stories about regular people trying to survive in a world being taken over by zombies and liked zombie movies. Apparently, this makes him disturbed.
This does not bode well for my friend Klaus. Nor I, nor any of the other people involved with "Faces of Undeath." (If writing about zombies is bad, how screwed up do you have to be to make a movie about them?!?)
When a writer from the St. Louis Post-Dispatch was fired because of a blog he was keeping, one of the articles I read illustrated his eccentricity by pointing out that he kept numerous action figures on his desk at work.
That's your evidence? Big deal. I know people who keep weirder stuff on their desk than that. I used to have a big plastic Viking helmet on my computer. At a Lutheran magazine, they keep around posable Adam and Eve dolls.
You can imagine how they get posed.
The point is, if all of these things are signs of being disturbed, I'm the world's most likely candidate to get fired from work for my blog and then go on a shooting rampage because of it.
If I'd ever worn a trench coat in my life, I'd probably just have to give myself up to the police now.
On a completely unrelated note, my review of "The Office" is up on Gig Matrix if you're interested.
For instance, yesterday I was reading about the kid in Minnesota who went on a shooting spree in his school after killing his grandfather and others. The relevance of his connection with an online hate group is obvious. But more odd, to me at least, was the amount of time spent in the story on his supposed fascination with zombies.
Yes, zombies.
Apparently, he had contributed to fan fiction sites about zombies, had written stories about regular people trying to survive in a world being taken over by zombies and liked zombie movies. Apparently, this makes him disturbed.
This does not bode well for my friend Klaus. Nor I, nor any of the other people involved with "Faces of Undeath." (If writing about zombies is bad, how screwed up do you have to be to make a movie about them?!?)
When a writer from the St. Louis Post-Dispatch was fired because of a blog he was keeping, one of the articles I read illustrated his eccentricity by pointing out that he kept numerous action figures on his desk at work.
That's your evidence? Big deal. I know people who keep weirder stuff on their desk than that. I used to have a big plastic Viking helmet on my computer. At a Lutheran magazine, they keep around posable Adam and Eve dolls.
You can imagine how they get posed.
The point is, if all of these things are signs of being disturbed, I'm the world's most likely candidate to get fired from work for my blog and then go on a shooting rampage because of it.
If I'd ever worn a trench coat in my life, I'd probably just have to give myself up to the police now.
On a completely unrelated note, my review of "The Office" is up on Gig Matrix if you're interested.
Thursday, March 24, 2005
It's odorific!
First off, if you haven't seen "Robot Chicken" on the Cartoon Network, you should check it out sometime. Seth Green is involved if that helps sell it for you. Read more here.
(Coming tomorrow, my review of the Americanized version of "The Office.")
On to my life ...
Really, there hasn't been too much going on. I'm getting close to getting everything unpacked. Then it will just be a matter of getting everything organized. Woo hoo.
In less pleasant news, besides the fact that I still cannot get the cigarette smell to go away completely from my apartment (though I only notice it briefly when I come in now), now one of my closets smells funny.
This is a closet off the hallway, probably for linens and coats. I don't have much in there yet and there's no visible mold or anything, but it really kind of reeks. It smells a little bit like urine, but I know I haven't peed in there (it's not a water closet -- HA!). And I don't remember it smelling that way when I moved in. So seriously, what the hell?!
Right now, I just spray air freshener in there, but that only works for a few moments. I've tried keeping the door open to let it air out, but that just lets the odor waft out. We'll see; I'll come up with something.
Gee, all this stuff about my apartment really makes it sound like a crap-hole. It's not really. (I've certainly lived in worse -- there's no big, black spot on the carpet anywhere that looks like a wrestled with an octopus, the heating seems to work consistently and I have yet to have to call the cops on any neighbors.)
But it definitely has its share of quirks...
(Coming tomorrow, my review of the Americanized version of "The Office.")
On to my life ...
Really, there hasn't been too much going on. I'm getting close to getting everything unpacked. Then it will just be a matter of getting everything organized. Woo hoo.
In less pleasant news, besides the fact that I still cannot get the cigarette smell to go away completely from my apartment (though I only notice it briefly when I come in now), now one of my closets smells funny.
This is a closet off the hallway, probably for linens and coats. I don't have much in there yet and there's no visible mold or anything, but it really kind of reeks. It smells a little bit like urine, but I know I haven't peed in there (it's not a water closet -- HA!). And I don't remember it smelling that way when I moved in. So seriously, what the hell?!
Right now, I just spray air freshener in there, but that only works for a few moments. I've tried keeping the door open to let it air out, but that just lets the odor waft out. We'll see; I'll come up with something.
Gee, all this stuff about my apartment really makes it sound like a crap-hole. It's not really. (I've certainly lived in worse -- there's no big, black spot on the carpet anywhere that looks like a wrestled with an octopus, the heating seems to work consistently and I have yet to have to call the cops on any neighbors.)
But it definitely has its share of quirks...
Sunday, March 20, 2005
Maybe in space, they can't hear you sing
I returned home from work tonight to the sound of my neighbors and some friends singing loudly across the hall.
More specifically, singing Michael Jackson's "Beat It" in a loud, off-key falsetto.
They're still at it, though having killed Michael Jackson, they're on to bludgeoning other songs into submission.
I'm less annoyed that I can hear them across the hall at 1 a.m. than I am because I find their singing to be an offense against humanity in general.
It seems that, even in Virginia, I cannot escape the sounds of karaoke night at the Pioneer.
More specifically, singing Michael Jackson's "Beat It" in a loud, off-key falsetto.
They're still at it, though having killed Michael Jackson, they're on to bludgeoning other songs into submission.
I'm less annoyed that I can hear them across the hall at 1 a.m. than I am because I find their singing to be an offense against humanity in general.
It seems that, even in Virginia, I cannot escape the sounds of karaoke night at the Pioneer.
Saturday, March 19, 2005
I am sooo mad
After Tuesday's games, my first-round picks were looking pretty good, but then today ... nooooooooo ... Kansas and Syracuse have to go and muck them all up by losing. Syracuse, which I had going to the Final Four in my main bracket, and Kansas, which I had going to the Sweet Sixteen in that bracket (and winning it all in my second bracket, but that one's pretty much decimated already by some bad picks in the Chicago regional games).
At least, overall in the first round on my main bracket, I'm 23 for 32, which isn't terrible.
Still, as Baby Blue -- who we all know loves basketball -- would say:
What a bunch of jerks.
At least, overall in the first round on my main bracket, I'm 23 for 32, which isn't terrible.
Still, as Baby Blue -- who we all know loves basketball -- would say:
What a bunch of jerks.
Thursday, March 17, 2005
It's a mad, mad, mad, mad March
I love March Madness. I barely pay attention to college basketball for most of the season (like many sports, I get excited when I'm at a game, but rarely take the time to watch one on TV). But I really get into the NCAA tournament.
I think it's the whole do-or-die thing. You can be the greatest team that ever lived, but if you have a bad day, you can lose to the No. 16 seed. That means it's probably not the most fair judge of which is really the best team, but there's something to be said for the ability to play consistently. And besides, the upsets keep things interesting.
I usually enter the office pool and this year is no different. I actually ended up submitting two ballots (the maximum allowed per person). I had planned on doing all this research but ended up not really having time and just picking like I do every year -- totally randomly, based partly on gut instinct and the occasional eenie-meenie-minie-mo. This was actually how I determined who would win in the final game between Illinois and North Carolina on one of my brackets. (Rounding out the Final Four for that bracket are Syracuse and Louisville.) In the second bracket, I have (gasp!) Kansas taking it all after defeating Oklahoma State. Of course, I just found out this morning that their best guy's stomach flu is flaring up again, or something like that, so that doesn't bode well. (Rounding out the Final Four for the second bracket, if you care, are Duke and Wake Forest.)
In the past, I've always done a bracket for fun in which I determine the game winners by flipping a coin. I mostly do this to see if I can pick winners better than random chance. I'm proud to say that, more often than not, I can.
Though not much better.
So we'll see how the Big Dance goes. But even if my bracketology sucks, if the games are exciting, I'll be happy.
Now if you'll excuse me, I'll be in front of my TV watching the games...
I think it's the whole do-or-die thing. You can be the greatest team that ever lived, but if you have a bad day, you can lose to the No. 16 seed. That means it's probably not the most fair judge of which is really the best team, but there's something to be said for the ability to play consistently. And besides, the upsets keep things interesting.
I usually enter the office pool and this year is no different. I actually ended up submitting two ballots (the maximum allowed per person). I had planned on doing all this research but ended up not really having time and just picking like I do every year -- totally randomly, based partly on gut instinct and the occasional eenie-meenie-minie-mo. This was actually how I determined who would win in the final game between Illinois and North Carolina on one of my brackets. (Rounding out the Final Four for that bracket are Syracuse and Louisville.) In the second bracket, I have (gasp!) Kansas taking it all after defeating Oklahoma State. Of course, I just found out this morning that their best guy's stomach flu is flaring up again, or something like that, so that doesn't bode well. (Rounding out the Final Four for the second bracket, if you care, are Duke and Wake Forest.)
In the past, I've always done a bracket for fun in which I determine the game winners by flipping a coin. I mostly do this to see if I can pick winners better than random chance. I'm proud to say that, more often than not, I can.
Though not much better.
So we'll see how the Big Dance goes. But even if my bracketology sucks, if the games are exciting, I'll be happy.
Now if you'll excuse me, I'll be in front of my TV watching the games...
Wednesday, March 16, 2005
Sweating the small stuff
Tuesday, March 15, 2005
False alarm
I was supposed to have my new employee orientation at work today -- this morning, to be more precise, which involved me getting up several hours earlier than usual. So I dragged myself out of bed and arrived at work, only to find that there was no orientation today. It had been rescheduled. Supposedly an e-mail had been sent to my supervisor, but since she's been out of the office for about a week, who knows? So I went back home and slept for a few more hours.
Despite being rather miffed at this lack of communication (as if it would have been terribly hard to e-mail ME), I'm hoping that the early morning will jump start my sleeping schedule back into something a little more normal. I've been staying awake until about 4 a.m. and sleeping until noon, which is a lousy way of getting anything done. So we'll see.
A couple of other things I feel like railing against, when my cable company set up my cable and high-speed Internet last week, the guy never even stopped by my apartment to see if it worked or anything. This mostly annoyed me because I had woken up at 8 a.m. so that I would be up during the several-hour-timespan in which he was supposed to arrive. But it ends up I could have slept through the whole dang thing and been fine. There was also another cable guy from the same company across the street working on an apartment there at the same time. You'd think one guy could have handled both since he was here, but I guess not. The funny thing was that UPS spent the next couple of days trying to deliver two packages from the cable company. After waiting between the hours of 10-5 for the second attempt at delivery and running in to the guy as I walked out of my apartment at 5:05, I received a coaxial cable and a box of stuff for my Internet access. He said they'd been delivering a lot of those lately, so I can only imagine what kind of shipping costs this is incurring for the company. So why on Earth wouldn't you just have the cable guy take two minutes and hand this stuff to me in person?!? Are all their cable guys lepers or something?
It makes no sense.
Also in the realm of things that make no sense, McDonald's (or at least the ones here) has begun to offer only 10-piece Chicken McNuggets with its value meal. It used to be eight and that was perfect. But no, now I have to get 10. It's not a supersize choice or something, it's the default, and I can't downsize it. I don't want 10 chicken nuggets; I only want eight. I'm seriously considering not eating at McDonald's anymore in protest. And for those that know some of my eating habits, you know that's a big deal.
In other interesting news, check out this fascinating story about what happened between Brian Nichols -- the guy from the Atlanta courthouse shootings -- and the woman he took hostage in her apartment. It's a great read.
Despite being rather miffed at this lack of communication (as if it would have been terribly hard to e-mail ME), I'm hoping that the early morning will jump start my sleeping schedule back into something a little more normal. I've been staying awake until about 4 a.m. and sleeping until noon, which is a lousy way of getting anything done. So we'll see.
A couple of other things I feel like railing against, when my cable company set up my cable and high-speed Internet last week, the guy never even stopped by my apartment to see if it worked or anything. This mostly annoyed me because I had woken up at 8 a.m. so that I would be up during the several-hour-timespan in which he was supposed to arrive. But it ends up I could have slept through the whole dang thing and been fine. There was also another cable guy from the same company across the street working on an apartment there at the same time. You'd think one guy could have handled both since he was here, but I guess not. The funny thing was that UPS spent the next couple of days trying to deliver two packages from the cable company. After waiting between the hours of 10-5 for the second attempt at delivery and running in to the guy as I walked out of my apartment at 5:05, I received a coaxial cable and a box of stuff for my Internet access. He said they'd been delivering a lot of those lately, so I can only imagine what kind of shipping costs this is incurring for the company. So why on Earth wouldn't you just have the cable guy take two minutes and hand this stuff to me in person?!? Are all their cable guys lepers or something?
It makes no sense.
Also in the realm of things that make no sense, McDonald's (or at least the ones here) has begun to offer only 10-piece Chicken McNuggets with its value meal. It used to be eight and that was perfect. But no, now I have to get 10. It's not a supersize choice or something, it's the default, and I can't downsize it. I don't want 10 chicken nuggets; I only want eight. I'm seriously considering not eating at McDonald's anymore in protest. And for those that know some of my eating habits, you know that's a big deal.
In other interesting news, check out this fascinating story about what happened between Brian Nichols -- the guy from the Atlanta courthouse shootings -- and the woman he took hostage in her apartment. It's a great read.
Friday, March 11, 2005
Part III
So in the two weeks since I've been in Norfolk, I've done a little bit of unpacking, played a lot of video games and just been going through the general process of settling into a new place. Most of it's not that exciting, but here are some snippets that may or may not be amusing:
Weird things I've discovered about my apartment since moving in:
1) There's no dishwasher -- doh! Totally forgot about that when apartment hunting.
2) Laundry is $1.25 to wash and the same to dry; and the dryer I used didn't dry very well. This seems expensive to me, even though it really probably isn't. The laundry facilities are also in the next building, meaning I've got to go outside to do my laundry anyway. For that trouble, my car is a lot closer and I decided I may as well just drive to a laundromat. I found a place where it's $1 to wash on Tuesdays and Wednesdays, which are my days off of work. I realize that's only a difference of 25 cents, but at least the dryers work better. Plus, it's across the street from a Papa John's, so I can pick up a pizza and bring it home. :-)
3) Most of the electrical outlets are upside down. Or at least what I think of as upside down (with the two prong holes on the bottom and the grounding pin on top). I have no idea why this is, but then again maybe I've never known which way is up for an outlet.
4) Speaking of outlets, the bathroom doesn't have any.
5) The bathroom does, however, have a large metal bin of sorts connected to the wall. It has a panel on hinges like the top of some garbage cans, so at first, that's what I thought it was. But there's no way to put a garbage bag in there. My best guess is that it might be for towels. But what an odd thing to take up space in a bathroom with.
6) One of the kitchen cabinet doors can't be opened all the way, because it hits the light fixture. You would have thought someone would have noticed this when designing the kitchen. But apparently not. So I can only open that cabinet door about 45 degrees and have to remember not to just fling it open lest one day I send the kitchen light crashing down on my head.
7) The refrigerator periodically makes weird knocking noises, like there's a small person inside tapping out Morse code.
"Generally you don't see that sort of behavior in a major appliance."
But I haven't heard anyone say "Zuul" when I open it up, so I can't be too concerned.
As an unrelated story, I had spent a couple of days looking around for a bed last week (I thought it was time to upgrade to an adult, queen-sized bed rather than the twin bed I've slept in since I was a kid). Then last week I was doing laundry at the laundromat and ordered my first Papa John's pizza in Duluth. As I was waiting for it, I wandered into a furniture store next door. Lo and behold, they had a headboard I liked on sale for $99, a mattress that was comparable to all the others I'd seen, and a matching nightstand for pretty cheap. Plus, the guy was willing to give me 20 percent off all of it.
So I bought a bed while waiting for a pizza.
And that more or less catches us up to the present. I don't know how exciting my blog will be from here on out, but I'll do my best.
If nothing else, I can always dedicate a posting on Social Security to Baby Blue...
Weird things I've discovered about my apartment since moving in:
1) There's no dishwasher -- doh! Totally forgot about that when apartment hunting.
2) Laundry is $1.25 to wash and the same to dry; and the dryer I used didn't dry very well. This seems expensive to me, even though it really probably isn't. The laundry facilities are also in the next building, meaning I've got to go outside to do my laundry anyway. For that trouble, my car is a lot closer and I decided I may as well just drive to a laundromat. I found a place where it's $1 to wash on Tuesdays and Wednesdays, which are my days off of work. I realize that's only a difference of 25 cents, but at least the dryers work better. Plus, it's across the street from a Papa John's, so I can pick up a pizza and bring it home. :-)
3) Most of the electrical outlets are upside down. Or at least what I think of as upside down (with the two prong holes on the bottom and the grounding pin on top). I have no idea why this is, but then again maybe I've never known which way is up for an outlet.
4) Speaking of outlets, the bathroom doesn't have any.
5) The bathroom does, however, have a large metal bin of sorts connected to the wall. It has a panel on hinges like the top of some garbage cans, so at first, that's what I thought it was. But there's no way to put a garbage bag in there. My best guess is that it might be for towels. But what an odd thing to take up space in a bathroom with.
6) One of the kitchen cabinet doors can't be opened all the way, because it hits the light fixture. You would have thought someone would have noticed this when designing the kitchen. But apparently not. So I can only open that cabinet door about 45 degrees and have to remember not to just fling it open lest one day I send the kitchen light crashing down on my head.
7) The refrigerator periodically makes weird knocking noises, like there's a small person inside tapping out Morse code.
"Generally you don't see that sort of behavior in a major appliance."
But I haven't heard anyone say "Zuul" when I open it up, so I can't be too concerned.
As an unrelated story, I had spent a couple of days looking around for a bed last week (I thought it was time to upgrade to an adult, queen-sized bed rather than the twin bed I've slept in since I was a kid). Then last week I was doing laundry at the laundromat and ordered my first Papa John's pizza in Duluth. As I was waiting for it, I wandered into a furniture store next door. Lo and behold, they had a headboard I liked on sale for $99, a mattress that was comparable to all the others I'd seen, and a matching nightstand for pretty cheap. Plus, the guy was willing to give me 20 percent off all of it.
So I bought a bed while waiting for a pizza.
And that more or less catches us up to the present. I don't know how exciting my blog will be from here on out, but I'll do my best.
If nothing else, I can always dedicate a posting on Social Security to Baby Blue...
Thursday, March 10, 2005
Part II: Moving in
I had big plans for my first night in Norfolk. I had been thinking about it for the latter half of my road trip. I'd brought a TV so I could watch "Lost" and "Alias" that night, order Papa John's pizza and it would be a great way to start in my new place.
Unfortunately, things don't always work out the way we plan.
I walked into my empty apartment (my furniture and most of my stuff wouldn't arrive for another week) and was somewhat overcome with doubt and loneliness. Walking into a big, empty apartment can do that, I guess. Here I was, in many ways starting from scratch and rebuilding my life anew -- again. Having moved many times -- between towns and within towns -- I wasn't worried about my ability to do it so much as I felt wary of doing it. Despite my fear of settling in life, sometimes settling down doesn't seem so bad. Or at least not moving to a different apartment every year.
My mini-emotional crisis was compounded by the fact that I discovered Papa John's didn't deliver to where I live and I didn't get any stations on the TV (cable wasn't hooked up until this past Monday). I had also made a trip to Target for some of the essentials but had either forgotten/couldn't find/decided to put off buying most of the things on my list, including air freshner because whoever lived here before clearly smoked.
Also included in that was a shower curtain -- but not just any shower curtain, the one I had previously had in Duluth. This would later become a bit of an obsession. I went back to Target three times over the next several days looking for the shower curtain I wanted and the store was always out of it. I could say that I was so intent on getting that particular curtain simply because I liked it, but from a psychological perspective, I think I was probably just trying to salvage something familiar in my new settings. (It occurs to me that my choice of apartment could have been influenced by the same thing, seeing as how I live right by a mall, a Target, a Home Depot, an Olive Garden and a grocery store, just like my last apartment in Duluth.) And yes, I could have just kept the old shower curtain, but it was old and ready to be trashed. At any rate, I finally ended up driving to a Target in the next city to get it there.
So that was my multiday quest for a shower curtain.
Anyhow, so I was feeling a little sorry for myself for the first couple of hours in town, but I was cheered up several things:
1) I arrived to find a bunch of mail, including a "housewarming" letter from Germany, which was a total surprise and incredibly touching.
2) I talked on the phone to my parents and much of the Duluth gang.
3) I had thought to bring my video games along and began playing "Resident Evil 4," which is fantastic.
4) I also watched the commentary from "Faces of Undeath," a little-known but incredibly funny zombie movie. It's a cult classic. Trust me.
So that was my first night here. It ended well, or at least as well as it can with me sleeping in a sleeping bag on the floor for the first of many nights. But you know how it is...
Coming up:
Odd things about my apartment
and
How I went to pick up a pizza and ended up buying a bed
Unfortunately, things don't always work out the way we plan.
I walked into my empty apartment (my furniture and most of my stuff wouldn't arrive for another week) and was somewhat overcome with doubt and loneliness. Walking into a big, empty apartment can do that, I guess. Here I was, in many ways starting from scratch and rebuilding my life anew -- again. Having moved many times -- between towns and within towns -- I wasn't worried about my ability to do it so much as I felt wary of doing it. Despite my fear of settling in life, sometimes settling down doesn't seem so bad. Or at least not moving to a different apartment every year.
My mini-emotional crisis was compounded by the fact that I discovered Papa John's didn't deliver to where I live and I didn't get any stations on the TV (cable wasn't hooked up until this past Monday). I had also made a trip to Target for some of the essentials but had either forgotten/couldn't find/decided to put off buying most of the things on my list, including air freshner because whoever lived here before clearly smoked.
Also included in that was a shower curtain -- but not just any shower curtain, the one I had previously had in Duluth. This would later become a bit of an obsession. I went back to Target three times over the next several days looking for the shower curtain I wanted and the store was always out of it. I could say that I was so intent on getting that particular curtain simply because I liked it, but from a psychological perspective, I think I was probably just trying to salvage something familiar in my new settings. (It occurs to me that my choice of apartment could have been influenced by the same thing, seeing as how I live right by a mall, a Target, a Home Depot, an Olive Garden and a grocery store, just like my last apartment in Duluth.) And yes, I could have just kept the old shower curtain, but it was old and ready to be trashed. At any rate, I finally ended up driving to a Target in the next city to get it there.
So that was my multiday quest for a shower curtain.
Anyhow, so I was feeling a little sorry for myself for the first couple of hours in town, but I was cheered up several things:
1) I arrived to find a bunch of mail, including a "housewarming" letter from Germany, which was a total surprise and incredibly touching.
2) I talked on the phone to my parents and much of the Duluth gang.
3) I had thought to bring my video games along and began playing "Resident Evil 4," which is fantastic.
4) I also watched the commentary from "Faces of Undeath," a little-known but incredibly funny zombie movie. It's a cult classic. Trust me.
So that was my first night here. It ended well, or at least as well as it can with me sleeping in a sleeping bag on the floor for the first of many nights. But you know how it is...
Coming up:
Odd things about my apartment
and
How I went to pick up a pizza and ended up buying a bed
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