Panic Time!

Mr. S. went out and bought a condo for us to move into, which we will do. Tomorrow. Early. Tomorrow. Holy crap we move tomorrow.

I've been cleaning and packing all weekend and haven't really put a dent into the whole hate-filled moving process.

So now I'm just sitting here like a panic-stricken chiuaua left out in the rain...in a hungry lion's den...with a pound of raw meat hanging around its neck.

I'll paint you a picture, we're going to use some colorful metaphors kids. The amount of crap that Mr. S has is around this:



And here is the amount of crap that I own:



So I've been packed for about...well I was finished 20 minutes after I started packing because everything I own fits in my car, but there's still an eff-ton more to do. So I expect some sort of you're-the-best-girlfriend-ever-I-couldn't-have-done-this-without-you-especially-since-I-left-you-to-do-most-of-the-cleaning-while-I-was-gone-all-weekend gift...maybe something sparkly...or wrapped in bacon.

But I am very thankful for the beautiful new condo that Mr. S and I can start our new lives in.

Here are a few pictures of our new home!!:

The Day That Beer Tried to Get Me Fired

There have been days when mind-shattering hangovers have effected my job (sorry mom). I have poured coffee into my refillable water bottle. I have forgotten to put my Lean Cuisine in the office freezer resulting in a soggy 300-calorie enchilada meal and empty stomach. I have shown up with only one eye mascaraed and two mix-matched stockings.

Although alcohol was the culprit yesterday, I was in no way hung over.

Let me back up.

I am addicted (equally) to caffeine and those wonderful chemicals that allow sodas to now be calorie-free. So when I reached into Mr S' garage refrigerator to grab a Pepsi, I instead mindlessly threw a Pabst Blue Ribbon Light (yeah that actually exists) into my purse. I then drove to work and opened it loudly in my cubicle at ten in the morning.

One should never have to bewilderingly decide how to dispose of a half-opened beer at work--outside of Christmas parties and your very spiteful last day of work personal celebration. Luckily no one (to my knowledge) noticed.

I quickly--breaking into a mild sweat--started to weigh my options.

Do I:

-Drink it (a little too obvious).
-Water my sad little cubicle plant with it--I hadn't watered it in a while and Pabst...let alone Pabst Light is practically water anyway right?
-Water the well-kept plants of the people in my office that I dislike, especially the ones who steal my Diet Cokes out of the refrigerator--it's really their fault I was in this situation in the first place.
-Set it carefully in the office kitchen and wait for the office gossip/questions to start circulating for my own amusement.

I punked out and just hid it to take back home. It turned out to be quite a bitch-of-a-day, in retrospect I should have disposed of it in my stomach. Hindsight is 20/20.

Stab-Free Coping Skills: A Guide

Sometimes in life I have encountered awkward or annoying situations that have required me to develop several different coping skills lest I become agitated (read: stabby toward everyone).

The other day I was standing on a city sidewalk talking to some friends. A woman walking on said sidewalk was fast approaching. There was room for the woman to weave through us, there was even room for the woman to go around us. Instead of doing either of those things the woman loudly and aggressively stated "EXCUSE ME" causing me to jump farther out of her way and leaving me with a violated and slightly intruded-upon feeling---for a moment, this is when the coping skills come in handy. Instead of feeling that the woman was obviously rude and felt entitled to the entire sidewalk I chose to believe that she had just farted and was of course very embarrassed. In retrospect it's really kind of sweet and funny that she cared so much for our smelling safety that she went out of her way to warn us. Although she didn't have to worry since I smelt nothing, it was still really considerate of her. How selfless.

See how useful these kinds coping skills are? So the next time someone cuts you off in traffic know that the bastard driver is really just experiencing a Final Destination-like moment and knows that cutting you off will save your life due to the horrific crash that is about to happen--causing death itself to stalk you until you're mashed by a piano or decapitated by an elevator door. The next time someone cuts in front of you in the Starbucks line, while you stand two feet away distracted by colorful mugs and unpronounceable bags of overpriced free-trade coffee due to your crippling ADD, know that the cutter is taking one for the team by getting the last mocha made by the inexperienced barista-in-training before she goes on her break leaving you to get a perfectly made mocha from the more experienced barista.

If none of these techniques work it doesn't hurt to get a little stabby. Well it doesn't hurt you anyway.