Seattle Minus the Hepatitis C Please

So I am driving to Bellingham, WA tomorrow with Mr. S to drop his kids off and spend some relaxing time in Seattle. Mr. S and I will be staying with some of his friends on Friday and Saturday night. Here's the thing about Mr. S, he hasn't let me down yet in finding me a some-what acceptable place to sleep at when we go on these adventures but there is always the possibility that I will end up sleeping in a place that looks like this:



I'm not high maintenance but I am slightly against sleeping in a place that makes a meth lab look like the Ritz Carlton. I just want a place to sleep in that doesn't have questionable stains on the pillow and a bathroom that won't give me Hepatitis C. Let's just say I'm saying a little prayer for myself.

Oh baby.

My boyfriend Mr. S' children are in town for a week. I haven't had much experience around kids (they are 1 and 3 years old) so I have been dealing with it in the most logical and mature way possible--blind spasming fear and horror.

I don't know how to act around them! For one thing, every other word out of my mouth is 'fuck' 'fucking' 'fucked' or 'fuck-ton.' Plus, apparently children of this age do not yet understand and cannot appreciate cynicism or sarcasm so my whole "make them laugh and they'll love you" plan is...well...fucked <----see what I mean, what other word could I possibly have used there? The English language is crumbling down around me.

Our days together have been filled with the noises of Handy Manny, every light-up-noisy-as-hell toy available on the market today, and screaming, as the smells of baby poop and playdoh waft gently through the air.

But overall I am glad that they are here. It makes Mr. S so happy to see his kids and although he stresses out like Armageddon itself is coming down upon us all I know that he will miss his children dearly when they have to go back home. I am also learning how to go with the flow and find my zen amidst complete chaos.

On a bigger and much more selfish note Mr. S and I have never been wonderful and this is while he is at his most stressed. I think if anything this experience has strengthen us.

But don't ask me to watch your kids. I just wanted to make that clear.






I have learned a lot.

Brinks Home Security Is Ruining My Life

Ok, so here is the thing about me, I am a perfectly normal functioning human being. For the most part. I promise. But there is one quirky thing I feel the need to tell you about. I am 23 years old and still am completely scared of...well...everything. Ok, not everything I guess, I'm ok with snakes and the occasional spider. But I hate the dark. Hate it. I hate noises and am completely convinced every time I hear one--especially if in the dark--that I am about to be straight up serial murdered in the face.

I have NO concise idea why this is. But I have a theory, don't worry no boring childhood abandonment issue--I blame the fact that TV raised me. Don't get me wrong, I have won may a games of Jeopardy, Cash Cab, Trivial Pursuit, random drunken arguments because of my upbringing--thank you God Of Cable--but it is a double-edged sword to say the least.

Whenever I am walking/jogging in a wooded area, near an ally, and especially if near a water-bank I just KNOW that I will look to my walking/jogging partner and say, "What on earth is a mannequin doing in the middle of the (insert place)?" After getting closer I will immediately start to sputter and moan as I realize that the "mannequin" is of course a dead fucking pasty body. "Oh God!" I'll hoarsely gasp, "Call 911!" *cue Law & Order SVU score*

Whenever I have just gotten home late at night I know that there is a serial-rapist-kidnapping-fear peddler waiting to bust right through the door thanks to Brinks Home Security and their lovely fear propaganda laden commercials. *cue me fainting into a seizure of fear at the realization that I don't have Brinks and won't be able to afford it anytime soon*

Whenever someone knocks on the door to sell something I just KNOW that they have been watching me for weeks and know my schedule and have finally picked the right time (while I'm alone in the house) to murder my face right off. *not sure where on TV this fear came from exactly*

I guess this post wasn't particularly funny--or relevant unless you suffer from the same paranoid syndrome and have to laugh at yourself on a daily basis to keep from building a panic room made of steel, reinforced by piles of bulletproof vest-wearing body guards.

A Singular Screwy Setting

I finally tapped into the (stolen) free wifi I knew I should be able to access in the suburban neighborhood that I recently moved into. Changing just a singular screwing setting on my laptop did the trick. Go figure. Free internet is glorious.

Now I feel like I've accomplished a lot today. Isn't that just the (saddest thing you've heard all day) great? Sometimes I seriously wonder how much the average person accomplishes in a day...and then how I measure up against that. Then I have to sit down and chain smoke for about a half an hour to curb the bone crushing depression caused by the fact that I am sure that I am steadily rocking it at about a 15% capacity. On a good day. Like today. I win.

If I still lived in the city I would not be able to find un-password-protected wifi but out here in suburbia I did. You would think that these welltodo people who actually use things like online banking/porfolio management would protect their shit...but they don't. Not that I'm trying to steal their passwords/identities/small children/souls/etc., I just want to use their internet so that I don't have to pay for my own. I think that's fair.

Moving to suburbia has been a big adjustment for me. I have lived here for about 3 months now and I still do not know my neighbors. How awkward is it living fifteen feet away from people and never making eye contact with them even though you see them out of the corner of your eye everyday? I'll tell you: very. Here are some differences that I have found so far between where I lived before (let's call it A) and where I live now in suburbia (let's call it B)*:

• A: There are lawns in front of the few houses you see peppered in between the many apartment buildings.
• B: There are lawns here, but without fences to keep out the meth-heads and day-time drunks.

• A: There were three bars within a two block radius.
• B: I still haven't found a bar anywhere close to where I am. Fail.

• A: There are always children being way too fucking loud outside of your apartment building at 1 AM on a Tuesday.
• B: There are also children but they are almost always wearing shoes, drive Big Wheels that are nicer than my own car, and are rarely on the street at 1 AM (on any day).

• A: Everyone smokes, even if it's "just when they drink."
• B: I haven't seen a single smoker since I moved here, who am I suppose to bum off of when I get too drunk to drive to the gas station at 2:30 in the morning?

• A: You were constantly wondering: "is that a skunk or pot?"
• B: It's just a skunk, which really takes the excitement out of guessing.

• A: You can sit outside and "people watch" because there are always (drunk) (high) (mentally unstable) interesting people walking around aimlessly.
• B: No one walks around here. Ever. They never leave their designated plot of land.

• A: There are no door-to-door salesmen, unless you count drug dealers (but to be fair they usually expect you to come to them).
• B: My new doorbell has been rung four times by door-to-door home security system/water-proof paneling salesmen.

But living in this house in suburbia is, for the time being, (pretty nice) acceptable. I have yet to decide how ridiculous to act in order to make myself feel better and in order to convince myself that I won't turn into someone who likes living out here. We will see.

*(Fitting) Total coincidence that A should stand for Awesome and B should stand for Boring.