I was going to put up a "wordless wednesday" post, but I'm a woman of far-too-many words, so we'll file that post under FAIL for today.
Yesterday I went up to Portland (the 503) to meet a friend from New York who is in town for spring break [side note: this friend I met while living in New York, however she too is a west coaster, originally from Seattle]. We met up for some lunchy lunch at Fire On The Mountain, which has fucking AMAZING wings, not to mention Rainier beer ON TAP! (it's a west coast thing). I gorged myself silly on Buffalo Lime Cilantro wingeys. We chatting, catching up and having some brews... and then we decided to go downtown and check out some sights.
Well, the weather did not want to cooperate, so as we were wandering around in the pouring rain, we literally ran into the first bar we could find, which was the Yamhill Pub. We plopped down at the bar, and after deliberating on ordering Rainier tall boys for $1.50, we settled on some other micro brew to avoid the guaranteed gut-rot Rainier is sure to bring.
Let me say, how AMAZINGLY divey this bar was. I can't even begin to put it into words, however I did take a few pics.
Well that's common knowledge!
Helloooooooooo bathroom!
"I pooped at the Yamhill, and all I got was this lousy rash"
This bar must have been a break spot for local bike messengers, because the bar was full of them, drinking their water and Red Bulls. One gentleman was drinking some beer at the end of the bar and (hopefully post work shift) pounding them back fairly quickly. To my chagrin, he spilled his beer and didn't say anything just sitting there watching the beer slither down the bar, which then proceeded to pour onto my pants. Neither I, nor the bartender was very happy about this. He literally just sat there and stared while I and the bartender cleaned up the mess. He was an asshole, really stoned, or both.
The highlight of the day however was when one extremely tall, lanky, dread lock headed guy strode into the bar and shouted,
"I've just been wishing ass cancer on my boss all day!"
First of all... I signed up for Twitter. *ughhhhh* After months (years?) of talking crap about it, I finally caved. I feel like one of those people who is just now signing up for Facebook. Whatever, don't judge me. Its purely for blogging purposes! So now, go follow me, cause I'm funny.
Secondly, let me freak out about this. Summary; An eleven year-old (now 12) boy is being tried as AN ADULT for the shooting of his dad's pregnant fiance.
Yes, I think this kid has some serious issues, and there has been some parenting completely gone wrong in this story. But an adult?! Really?! This kids life is now over because of one mistake he made. I know, murder is a HUGE DEAL, but he's only fucking eleven!!
I know Dave Chappelle has talked about this before too... but I'm going to say it again. A 15 year-old girl wasn't "mature enough" to consent to being peed on by R. Kelly. A 17 year old-girl isn't "mature enough" to consent to having sex with her 18 year-old boyfriend. And yet, this 11 year-old is old enough to comprehend the complexities of committing murder? How does this make sense? Its just an INSANE double standard.
I'm not saying I have all the answers, but it just seems WRONG to end this child's life. PRISON. WITHOUT THE POSSIBILITY of parole. Ever? He'll be 40 and not even have a chance at life? 50? I mean, I know that probably he will get paroled, considering the immense overcrowding in the prisons (probably because we're trying 11 year-old's as adults) but, *sigh* anyway...
I have obviously been taking you for granted. For so many years now you have been there for me. Silently, diligently working away, without asking much in return. I again have abused you. Is this some horrific Jerry Springeresque relationship we have? I seem abuse you over and over again, continually to take advantage of your giving nature. Beating you senseless until I pass out, sometimes quite Literally.
I’m sober now, and regretful for my mistreatment. I know I can be a real asshole sometimes, but I really do care. Thanks for taking one for the team. Sorry for making you work so hard. You're a champ.
I'm giving you a week off. Well at least 5 days. Or at least until Tuesday.
Please read, and commit to memory, THE Drinking Rules. Remember these.
1. If you owe someone money, always pay them back in a bar. Preferably during happy hour.
2. Always toast before doing a shot.
3. Whoever buys the shot gets the first chance to offer a toast.
4. Change your toast at least once a month.
5. Buying someone a drink is five times better than a handshake.
6. Buying a strange woman a drink is still cool. Buying all her drinks is dumb.
7. Never borrow more than one cigarette from the same person in one night.
8. When the bartender is slammed, resist the powerful urge to order a slightly-
dirty, very-dry, in-and-out, super-chilled half-and-half martini with a lemon twist. Limit orders to beer, straight shots and two-part cocktails.
9. Get the bartender's attention with eye contact and a smile.
10. Do not make eye contact with the bartender if you do not want a drink.
11. Unacceptable things to say after doing a shot: Great, now I'm going to get drunk. I hate shots. It's coming back up.
12. Never, ever tell a bartender he made your drink too strong.
13. If he makes it too weak, order a double next time. He'll get the message.
14. If you offer to buy a woman a drink and she refuses, she does not like you.
15. If you offer to buy a woman a drink and she accepts, she still might not like you.
16. If she buys you a drink, she likes you.
17. If someone offers to buy you a drink, do not upgrade your liquor preference.
18. Always have a corkscrew in your house.
19. If you don't have a corkscrew, push the cork down into the bottle with a pen.
20. Drink one girly drink in public and you will forever be known as the guy who drinks girly drinks.
21. Our parents were better drinkers than we are.
22. Never talk to someone in the restroom unless you're doing the same thing—urinating, waiting in line or washing your hands.
23. Girls hang out, apply make-up, and have long talks in the bathroom. Men do not.
24. After your sixth drink, do not look at yourself in the mirror. It will shake your confidence.
25. It is only permissible to shout 'woo-hoo!' if you are doing a shot with four or more people.
26. If there is a DJ, you can request a song only once per night. If he doesn't play it within half an hour, do not approach him again. If he does play it, do not approach him again.
27. Learn how to make a rose out of a bar napkin. You'll be surprised how well it works.
28. If you can't afford to tip, you can't afford to drink in a bar. Go to the liquor store.
29. If you owe someone twenty dollars or less, you may pay them back in beer.
30. Never complain about the quality or brand of a free drink.
31. If you have been roommates with someone more than six months, you may drink all their beer, even if it's hidden, as long as you leave them one.
32. You can have a shot of their hard liquor only if the cap has been cracked and the bottle goes for less than $25.
33. The only thing that tastes better than free liquor is stolen liquor.
34. If you bring Old Milwaukee to a party, you must drink at least two cans before you start drinking the imported beer in the fridge.
35. Learn to appreciate hangovers. If it was all good times every jackass would be doing it.
36. If you ever feel depressed, get out a bartender's guide and browse through all the drinks you've never tried.
37. Try one new drink each week.
38. If you are the bar's sole customer, you are obliged to make small talk with the bartender until he stops acknowledging you. Then you're off the hook. The same goes for him.
39. Never tip with coins that have touched you. If your change is $1.50, you can tell the barmaid to keep the change, but once she has handed it to you, you cannot give it back. To a bartender or cocktail waitress, small change has no value.
40. If you have ever told a bartender, "Hey, it all spends the same," then you are a cheap ass.
41. Anyone on stage or behind a bar is fifty percent better looking.
42. You can tell how hard a drinker someone is by how close they keep their drink to their mouth.
43. A bar is a college, not a nursery. If you spill a beer, clean it up. If you break a glass, wait for a staff member to clean it up, then blame it on someone else.
44. Being drunk is feeling sophisticated without being able to say it.
45.It's okay to drink alone.
46. After three drinks, you will forget a woman's name two seconds after she tells you. The rest of the night you will call her "baby" or "darling".
47. Nothing screams 'nancy boy' louder than swirling an oversized brandy snifter.
48. Men don't drink from straws. Unless you're doing a Mind or Face Eraser.
49. If you do a shot, finish it. If you don't plan to finish it, don't accept it.
50. Never brood in a dance bar. Never dance in a dive bar.
51. Never play more than three songs by the same artist in a row.
52. Your songs will come on as you're leaving the bar.
53. Never yell out jukebox selections to someone you don't know.
54. Never lie in a bar. You may, however, grossly exaggerate and lean.
55. If you think you might be slurring a little, then you are slurring a lot. If you think you are slurring a lot, then you are not speaking English.
56. Screaming, "Someone buy me a drink!" has never worked.
57. For every drink, there is a five percent better chance you will get in a fight. There is also a three percent better chance you will lose the fight.
58. Fighting an extremely drunk person when you are sober is hilarious.
59. If you are broke and a friend is "sporting you", you must laugh at all his jokes and play wingman when he makes his move.
60. If you are broke and a friend is "making sport of you", you may steal any drink he leaves unattended.
61. Never rest your head on a table or bar top. It is the equivalent of voluntarily putting your head on a chopping block.
62. If you are trading rounds with a friend and he asks if you're ready for another, always say yes. Once you fall out of sync you will end up buying more drinks than him.
63. If you're going to hit on a member of the bar staff, make sure you tip well before and after, regardless of her response.
64. The people with the most money are rarely the best tippers.
65. Before you die, single-handedly make one decent martini.
66. Asking a bartender what beers are on tap when the handles are right in front of you is the equivalent of saying, "I'm an idiot."
67. Never ask a bartender "what's good tonight?" They do not fly in the scotch fresh from the coast every morning.
68. If there is a line for drinks, get your goddamn drink and step the hell away from the bar.
69. If there is ever any confusion, the fuller beer is yours.
70. The patrons at your local bar are your extended family, your fathers and mothers, your brothers and sisters. Except you get to sleep with these sisters. And if you're really drunk, the mothers.
71. It's acceptable, traditional in fact, to disappear during a night of hard drinking. You will appear mysterious and your friends will understand. If they even notice.
72. Never argue your tab at the end of the night. Remember, you're hammered and they're sober. It's akin to a precocious five-year-old arguing the super-string theory with a physicist. 99.9% of the time you're wrong and either way you're going to come off as a jackass.
73. If you bring booze to a party, you must drink it or leave it.
74. If you hesitate more than three seconds after the bartender looks at you, you do not deserve a drink.
75. Beer makes you mellow, champagne makes you silly, wine makes you dramatic, tequila makes you felonious.
76. The greatest thing a drunkard can do is buy a round of drinks for a packed bar.
77. Never preface a conversation with a bartender with "I know this is going to be a hassle, but . . ."
78. When you're in a bar and drunk, your boss is just another guy begging for a fat lip. Unless he's buying.
79. If you are 86'd, do not return for at least three months. To come back sooner makes it appear no other bar wants you.
80. Anyone with three or more drinks in his hands has the right of way.
81. If you're going to drink on the job, drink vodka. It's the no-tell liquor.
82. There's nothing wrong with drinking before noon. Especially if you're supposed to be at work.
83. The bar clock moves twice as fast from midnight to last call.
84. A flask engraved with a personal message is one of the best gifts you can ever give. And make sure there's something in it.
85. On the intimacy scale, sharing a quiet drink is between a handshake and a kiss.
86. You will forget every one of these rules by your fifth drink.
Ya... that's right... its 10am and I'm drinking already. Cheers, and Happy Friday my dear readers!
What a lovely image huh? Too bad its rainy and blustery today :(
I just read an article from the little lady over at Make Mine a Mojito that got me thinking. She's received some "negative" or "constructive" comments about her writing/blogging. She's taking a break from blogging because her readers, and now her, feel that her blog has become too impersonal and self-gratifying.
Really?
Can't you write about whatever the hell you want to write about? Is there some set amount of writing that is supposed to be personal your blog? I mean its your blog.
I know there are some people who are WAY TOO PERSONAL of things on their blogs. But, hey! Its their blog! You can just choose not to read it if you don't like it. I've always just sort of written about whatever I feel like at the moment. Sometimes personal, sometimes just freaking out about stuff. Or something just sharing something funny or interesting.
I guess I just find this very interesting that someone is no longer going to write a blog because basically her readers complained about it. Am I not posting enough personal stuff? Do you, my dear readers, not know enough about me? Why must I crave the acceptance of the masses? I shamefully check my readership everyday. I only have "18" readers right now, and I get the slight twinge of jealousy when I see that others have more. What should that even matter? I mean, really? I guess I don't really care, but oh wait, yeah I kinda do. Oh self-esteem, why won't you just let me be?
So now, here's your chance to tell me what you really think. Now, don't get me wrong... I sure as hell aren't going to stop blogging if you don't like what I'm writing. You can go elsewhere and read some mommy blog, or cooking blog, or how awesome my 5 kids are blog. But what are your thoughts on blogging? On what you like to read, and/or write about... ??
Well kids... I'm really starting to think there's more work and torture just getting INTO grad school, than the actual school work itself.
I had a meeting with an advisor at my Alma Mater today regarding my un-exceptional grades during my undergrad years. We discussed a few options about taking some accounting and finance classes this spring and summer and retaking that regretful CSS 205 Soils class that I failed in the summer of 2005. Funny how when you "forget" to drop a class, they fail you. Sonofabitch!
Nevertheless, I'm hoping to get some grades up, and *fingers crossed* get an absolutely mind-blowing score on my GMAT to enter the one-year MBA program at Oregon State. We'll see... this could cost me a whole lot of money just to get turned down. You live and you learn, right?!? Wish me luck!
On a different note... yesterday I finally popped in this DVD that I had netflix'd:
and OH DOGGY! Am I sore today! But a good sore. Like... sore in all the spots you wantto be sore (butt, thighs and arms). She's a little cheesy, as all DVD exercise instructors are, but I liked it. I'm going to try it for a week, and maybe get a different Yoga DVD. Or something.
Well I'm off to Schwab's to get my tires rotated, so that should be 3 hours of my life I'll never get back, forcibly watching Fox News, whilst eating stale popcorn in the waiting room. WHOOOO!
Holy Crap! I'm amazing! Yes! Bow down to my Awesomeness! Heather has been kind enoughto not only read my blog, but give me an award for it! Whoop!!
Thank you so much little lady for the props! She's a funny, smart, kooky Washingtonian, who's been going through the trails and tribulations of her 30's, just like me. You should go read her blog, if you haven't already (which means you aren't reading my recommended blogs on the side-bar... for shame.)
So I guess there's a required "acceptance speech" for this award, which involves me talking about myself, which as we all know I absolutely HATE to do. HA! Please enjoy my 7 little unknown facts about myself, but if you know me in the non-internet-world you'll probably not be surprised...
I am TERRIFIED of slugs. Yeah, you read that right. Slugs. Those little slithery pieces of crap, that add no real value to the world. Uggghhh. Its definitely a phobia, the completely IRRATIONAL fear of something, but Good God I can't even look at a picture of one, let alone see one in real life. Most people think I'm joking. But let me assure you... I. AM. NOT. Pass the salt.
I am completely annoyed by what I call "The Dumbing Down of America." I've even thought about posting several blogs about it. When people change the spelling of words, or don't even know how to actually fucking spell them. Such as... "Kreativ Blogger"(sorry) Others than commonly make me enraged are Krispy Kreme, nite, tho, drive thru. This also includes using texting phrases in real life conversations, such as "lol" and "brb". It just makes you sound like a 13 year-old.
I am enraged when people text during movies. I don't care if your phone is on silent or vibrate I can still see that bright fucking screen... TURN THAT SHIT OFF. (Funny side story, Mr. Man and I went to see Alice in Wonderland and he actually told/asked/embarrassed some little asshole 13 year-old girl to stop texting and turn her phone off. SO FUNNY!)
I am totally paranoid about relationships and utterly insecure. I know, I know... I come off as so amazingly confident (can you hear my sarcasm?), but the truth is, I've had so many shitty, awful relationships that I constantly analyze and obsess about everything you do and say. Mostly in my romantic relationships, but sometimes friendships are subject to my insecurity as well.
Last year (March 31st to be exact) I got a DUI. Its not something I'm entirely proud of, so I've never really mentioned it to anyone. I think there's about 4 people in my life who actually know this happened; one was with me, one bailed me out, my mom and my cousin. Seriously not the highlight of my 31st year, but it was something I obviously needed to learn. I've (try not to judge too harshly here) been drinking and driving since I've been able to legally drink. Usually not drunk, but definitely a bit of buzzed driving. I know its awful, but I always found a way to justify it. Funny how the drunk mind can rationalize almost anything. Lesson learned... $3600 flushed away... moving on.
I like to wear headphones in my ears so I can secretly listen to people's conversations. Most people's lives are much more interesting than my own...
I'm pretty sure I made the biggest mistake of my life when I moved home to Oregon from New York. Yeah, quitting my job at the beginning of the worst economic downturn since the Great Depression turns out to not have been the wisest of decisions. I've pretty much been in financial ruin since then. And I haven't paid on any of my credit cards since October of 2008. I wonder why they keep calling me... can't they get a hint??!?
Taaaahh Dahhhhhh! That's me. At least a few of my many layers. Now I must give props to seven more lucky bloggers, and bestow upon them the honor of being fellow Kreativ Bloggers.I'll save you lengthy descriptions of each; Just know that they're McGriddle Pants Approved! (Trademark pending) and you should check them out. Also note, that I start reading blogs based on the awesomeness of their titles... *wink*
We all know these retards (sorry Sarah Palin) who are status whores on Facebook and just won't shutthefuckup. I have friends on The Book that I can pick out from every one of these "types" listed below. But so they don't get sand in their vaginas, I won't name names.
About a month ago this article was posted on cnn.com.
Since you may be like me, and hate going through links to read stuff, I re-posted it here. Full props to cnn.com and Ian, none to me!
Most Annoying Types of Facebook Status Updates:
The Let-Me-Tell-You-Every-Detail-of-My-Day Bore. "I just woke up", I'm "eating dinner", I've "just gotten up from a nap", "going to sleep now". Who the fuck cares? When was the last time you picked up the phone to call a friend of yours to tell them that you just woke up? Whoa, good for you. You woke up. Maybe you deserve a goddam medal!
The Self-Promoter. OK, so we've probably all posted at least once about some achievement. And sure, maybe your friends really do want to read the fascinating article you wrote about beet farming. But when almost EVERY update is a link to your blog, your poetry reading, your 10k results or your art show, you sound like a bragger or a self-centered careerist. The only difference to this is if you have a fan page. Aside from that you need to stop that shit.
The Friend-Padder. The average Facebook user has 120 friends on the site. Schmoozers and social butterflies -- you know, the ones who make lifelong pals on the subway -- might reasonably have 300 or 400. But 1,000 "friends?" Unless you're George Clooney or just won the lottery, no one has that many. That's just showing off.
The Town Crier. "Michael Jackson is dead!!!" You heard it from me first! Me, and the 213,000 other people who all saw it on TMZ. These Matt Drudge wannabes are the reason many of us learn of breaking news not from TV or news sites but from online social networks. In their rush to trumpet the news, these people also spread rumors, half-truths and innuendo. No, Jeff Goldblum did not plunge to his death from a New Zealand cliff.
The TMIer. "Brad is heading to Walgreens to buy something for these pesky hemorrhoids." Boundaries of privacy and decorum don't seem to exist for these too-much-information updaters, who unabashedly offer up details about their sex lives, marital troubles and bodily functions. Thanks for sharing.
The Bad Grammarian. "So sad about Fara Fauset but Im so gladd its friday yippe". Yes, I know the punctuation rules are different in the digital world. And, no, no one likes a spelling-Nazi schoolmarm. But you sound like a moron.
The Sympathy-Baiter. "Barbara is feeling sad today." "Man, am I glad that's over." "Jim could really use some good news about now." Like anglers hunting for fish, these sad sacks cast out their hooks -- baited with vague tales of woe -- in the hopes of landing concerned responses. Genuine bad news is one thing, but these manipulative posts are just pleas for attention.
The Lurker. The Peeping Toms of Facebook, these voyeurs are too cautious, or maybe too lazy, to update their status or write on your wall. But once in a while, you'll be talking to them and they'll mention something you posted, so you know they're on your page, hiding in the shadows. It's just a little creepy.
The Crank. These curmudgeons, like the trolls who spew hate in blog comments, never met something they couldn't complain about. "Carl isn't really that impressed with idiots who don't realize how idiotic they are." [Actual status update.] Keep spreading the love.
The Paparazzo. Ever visit your Facebook page and discover that someone's posted a photo of you from last weekend's party -- a photo you didn't authorize and haven't even seen? You'd really rather not have to explain to your mom why you were leering like a drunken hyena and French-kissing a bottle of Jagermeister.
The Maddening Obscurist. "If not now then when?" "You'll see..." "Grist for the mill." "John is, small world." "Dave thought he was immune, but no. No, he is not." [Actual status updates, all.] Sorry, but you're not being mysterious -- just nonsensical.
The Chronic Inviter. "Support my cause. Sign my petition. Play Mafia Wars with me. Which 'Star Trek' character are you? Here are the 'Top 5 cars I have personally owned.' Here are '25 Things About Me.' Here's a drink. What drink are you? We're related! I took the 'What President Are You?' quiz and found out I'm Millard Fillmore! What president are you?"
"There are only two kinds of people in the world, The Irish and those who wish they were."
God isn't that the truth. I get so sick of people claiming to be Irish on St. Patrick's day. We all know those these douchebags. They're everywhere. And they really seem to crawl out of the woodwork mid-March.
I'm sorry, but unless you have an Irish accent, or parents with an Irish accent, you're fucking American. Do you have a passport from Ireland? No? Then shutthefuckup. Good Lord.
I mean, I'm all for having pride in your heritage. I'm Dutch, Scotch (Scot? Whatever. Scotch just sounds cooler.) and German. But I sure as shit don't go running around in late September (check it, that's when Oktoberfest actually is) yelling how German I am, and kicking up my heels and doing a polka jig in my lederhosen. NO. My great-grandmother was German. That makes me about 1/8th German, and not enough to run around with the German flag on my back. It just makes me love beer. I'm pretty sure its in my genes. But I digress...
Take a look around today and tonight. Listen to the morons. According to the general population, about 86.49% of America claims to be "Irish." Too bad I have to listen to douchebags all day. And no, I don't believe that you always drink Guiness. Drink a fifth of Bushmills,* and we'll talk.
Now don't get me wrong. I LOVE St. Patrick's day. I mean, any reason to drink more beer than usual, green or no, is a great day in my opinion. And bars like to make the beer cheaper on St. Paddy's day. So more power to you Ireland! I just hate all these assholes who are all "I'm Irish" on this, such a potentially great day.
I have no clue where I found this article, and honestly it was several years ago, so I'm sorry I'm not citing the source. My bad. If anyone finds it, let me know, and I'll cite it as the IAPEC requires. (the Internet Anti-Plagarism Enforcement Committee. Yes I made that up)
Please let me clear up a few blatantly wrong ideas people seem to have about Paddy's day.
Firstly, the next time I meet someone who says that people in Ireland don’t celebrate Paddy’s day in Ireland, I am going to punch them in the face. How people ever got that misguided idea, I don't know.
Almost as bad is the idea that it is celebrated ’better’ in the U.S. Paddy’s day here is fun, no doubt, but at the end of the day all it is is people wearing green and getting drunk. In Ireland it is a national holiday, so no one works or goes to school. It is much more of a family holiday with every little town having a parade to celebrate. It is also a true cultural event with numerous ceili (singing and dancing festivals) and sporting events taking place. Of course there is a wild night of drinking after, but drinking isn't as central to the holiday as it is in the US.
It is PaDDy's day, not PaTTy's day - I cannot stress enough that seeing it written PaTTy's day makes most real Irish people physically ill.
And as for all the fighting about where Saint Patrick came from etc, historians aren’t even sure if the guy existed for definite, so everyone needs to relax on that score!
*Here's a little fun fact, that you can bring up at your next dinner party... or kegger.
Just as all champagne is sparkling wine, but not all sparkling wine is champagne, all scotch is whisky, but not all whiskey is scotch.
Scotch whisky, aka Scotch, is whisky distilled (from Rye) in Scotland, and spelled without an "e".
Bourbon (distilled from corn) is whiskey, only made in Kentucky (law states that bourbon has to come from Kentucky).
Things are going swimmingly in my new apartment. Well... swimmingly as in, I'm pretty sure nothing else can go wrong here.
I've already changed the locks, cause I couldn't get the dead bolt to lock. I mean... really? My land lady prides herself in buying stuff from Habitat for Humanity, because it "supports the community." But there comes a point when you have to CHECK what you're buying, so as to not install crap into your home.
Door locked. Check.
Shower head barely dribbled. I mean... droplets. Took it off, found about a half a cup of water softener bits lodged in there. How did the previous tenant take showers like that?
Sink faucet? Well... it was working. Then it started leaking HUGE amounts of water under the sink. Turns out the hose has a tear, or isn't connected just right. If I pull the extender-hose-thing out it still leaks, but into the basin, as opposed to under the counter. Working on that one too.
New light fixture installed into my bathroom 3 days after I moved in. No lights in there until that happened. And of course... no light bulbs.
Refrigerator light, burned out. Off to K-mart to buy one. Installed. Still doesn't work. Glorious.
Internet? yeahhh... not really operational so much. I haven't been too worried about that one just yet, as the plethora of other calamities have kept be busy. Also I have no closet, so I had to buy a little hung-dinger from the K-mart and still need to assemble it. Busy Busy Busy!
Its fun tho. I'm not too worried just yet. I'm just really glad that I'm crafty and handy enough to take care of a lot of these problems. Obviously the previous tenant was NOT. Poor sap.
I'll attempt to get some pics up of my lovely pad, once the dust has finally settled. :)
Now I'm off to go shopping, and hopefully make my fridge look like this: (and with fewer Coronas)
Cheers to you all, and have a great weekend. Hopefully, I'll have better news forthcoming on Monday!
