Thursday, January 19, 2012
In the world of Match.com, it's probably a huge no-no (perhaps even illegal?) to post excerpts from emails and winks to your FB page. But my friends really get a kick out of this nonsense, and quite frankly, so do I. I mean so far I'm not getting much else out of it, so why not?
I promise I joined match for the right reasons. But for now, it just feels SO right to talk about this stuff. I mean, the body builder who looks as if he dipped his 5'6 body into Snooki juice? C'mon people - that is Grade A material for a snark infested blogger like myself.
Anyways, after a few posts (and photos) on FB, a few friends emailed dying to know what the hell my profile says. So in all fairness, since I've been judging others and their feeble online pickup attempts (granted, it is hard to do), I'm now opening the flood gates to get made fun of myself - on FB, Twitter and now this here blog. So read it and weep. Or something like that.
"I've got a theory that if you give 100% all of the time, somehow things will work out in the end." - Larry Bird
I just turned 30, but that truly has nothing to do with why I'm here. I'm not a cougar, my biological clock isn't going off, I'm simply looking to meet a nice guy; one who doesn't wear Ed Hardy or skinny jeans. A guy that's sweet, patient and can handle my love and obsession for sports. Seriously, before you say that's your dream girl, realize I may know more than you about your favorite player.
If you're the kind of guy that MUST go out on Washington each and every weekend night, let's be clear - you're probably not the guy for me. I like to travel, am extremely active and love using my sarcasm to its fullest potential.
Also, odds are if your profile picture is you without your shirt, I will probably make fun of you. I simply can't help myself. Consider yourselves warned. I'm not topless in my pictures, so why are you?
A few other less than notable characteristics: I am terrified of stairs (walking up and down them), I am a violent sneezer and the hiccups annoy me to no end. I know they say "don't sweat the small stuff", but my hiccups come at the most inopportune times, and I'd hardly call that "small stuff." I'm also highly addicted to chapstick and my lack of memory has become a medical mystery to many. Pumping gas gives me anxiety because I know there's so much more valuable stuff I could be doing with that time (and money) - I drive an SUV so it is especially time consuming. Last but not least, the simple act of driving past an Applebees or Olive Garden will make me vomit each and every time.
Amendment #1 - Perhaps talking about sports above was a bad idea - I signed up for Match in hopes of meeting a nice guy, not to find a new sport's trivia partner. Head over to ESPN for that - it's free.
Amendment #2 - I get that we all signed up for this online dating thing, but after a few emails let's just be big kids and step away from the computer. I spend ALL day on the computer, so chatting with boys online just feels slightly SVU'ish, ya know? I'm not Meg Ryan and odds are you're not Tom Hanks, so this You've Got Mail seems slightly overrated, yes?
My apologies if the above seems highly negative or that I'm listing everything I don't want, but you've got to start somewhere. I'm a firm believer in full disclosure so I don't think my dating profile should reflect any different. Last but certainly not least, I need a guy who is patient. Mostly because I'm an only child and you can read into that what you will. Patience is not simply a virtue in any potential relationship, it's a downright must.__________________________________
Tuesday, January 10, 2012
You may have noticed on Twitter just before I took off, I posted a picture of the woman next to me. She was probably 40-50 and wearing a hot pink HUGE beach hat on the plane. I knew I was in for quite the 4-hour adventure as soon as I sat down and the hat was resting on my earlobe. Luckily, after about 20 minutes (without me saying a word), she placed the hat in the overhead bin and we went on our merry way 30,000 feet in the sky.
About 45 minutes into the flight, the man in the row in front of me was snoring excessively loud. I mean, L.O.U.D.
People all around were rolling their eyes or cranking up their music on their iPods to drown it out. After about 15 minutes of me trying to do work on my laptop (with headphones mind you), I gently reached up and tapped the man on his shoulder. I whispered, “I’m sorry sir, you’re snoring awfully loud.” He kind of smiled and laughed and whispered back that he was sorry and even commented, “oh damn, I’m that guy, huh?” End of story. Or so it should have been.
Now enter the Asian hat woman directly to my left. The one who had already spilled her orange juice in my lap and didn’t even bother to use her very own napkin to help clean it up.
“I thought this was s a free country,” she said in her broken English. “Huh?” I responded.
Hat Woman: (rudely) He was in a deep sleep.
Me: Yes, and I’m deep in work. I’d like to think if my typing or papers got in people’s way or inhibited their flying experience, they too would say something so that I could make their flight as pleasant as possible as well.
Hat Woman: This is supposed to be a free country.
Me: (blood pressure rising) Yes, as a citizen who was born and raised here and spent all 30 years of her life here, I can attest to that. I’m well aware of what our country is. He has the right to snore, and I have the right to ask him politely to stop. Simple as that.
Hat Woman: This is why I hate your country.
Me: Oh, REALLY? Would you like me to push the call button and get you the fuck off this plane? I’m happy to do so.
Hat Woman: You are a lady.
Me: Yes, thank you for noticing. Was it my c-cup bra size that gave it away, my shaved legs or the vagina underneath my dress that gave that away?
Needless to say, the remaining 2.5 hours of the flight was quite hysterical, at least for me. The entire plane had joined in and overheard our conversation, because one like this tends to get a little aggressive on my end. Even shortly after, snoring man himself told the woman to shut up and go back to her country.
What is it about airplanes?
Am I that much of an aggressive individual or is it simply the fact that spending $400 to sit next to blubbering idiots for hours in such tight quarters that doesn’t bode well for me? Either way, I don’t need a visitor in my country, trying to tell me what America is supposed to be about. You may have read that on those crazy internets or perhaps a history book decades ago, but I live it. I think I’m more suited to know all about the freedom this here country offers.
Editor Note #1: I did in fact speak with snoring man leaving the plane to apologize if he found my comments rude. He didn't.
Editor Note #2: This blog was written in LARGE font during the entire duration of the flight. If that woman can read English, then she saw everything I was writing. Yes, that was planned.
Sunday, January 8, 2012
But it's my blog and I'll vent if I want to. Even about a damn dishwasher.
I'm the kind of girl who puts a lot of stock in milestones, especially when it comes to dates (as in the calendar kind, not the kind I don't seem to get asked out on anymore). I've been in Houston for 5.5 years now - the longest I've stayed anywhere, and with that unprecedented tenure, I feel an uncomfortable itch to move (don't worry mom, not that kind of itch).
I knew I'd be getting a note from my townhouse about my lease renewal any day. With that note, I also knew I'd probably get a rent increase. So I left it up in the air - if my complex decides not to up my rent, I'll stay. If they do, I'm out.
Last week I received said letter. They only up'ed it about $60/month (I'm already paying entirely too much for a one bedroom townhouse, but that increase wasn't as much as I've seen at other places). Now that you've been briefed on the background, here's where the venting (er, bitching) comes in.
I went in on January 4th to renew my lease - for FIFTEEN MONTHS. Talk about a huge commitment. I also was dropping off my rent check. Well guess what? I was a day late. And by day, I mean NINE hours. But guess what else? The rent drop box is inside a building that gets locked everyday at 5pm, and I'm a travel writer, which means I'm not here very often. And we just had crazy amounts of holidays which the office was closed for many of. So yeah, I was late. By a few hours. Those few hours cost me $150 (I've yet to pay because I do plan to fight it).
So for 15 months, I've never paid my rent late one time. Not once. I've never shorted the rent, or anything. But in those 15 months, my apartment complex has told me the wrong amount to pay on at least SIX occasions. That's almost half the amount of checks I've written that have been wrong. The reason my rent amount changes is because you have to add on a varying amount for water, which my complex can NEVER get right. It's metered and you get a report - what makes this difficult?
Make that Apartment Complex - FAIL #1.
Before I left to run some errands today, I ran my dishwasher. A few hours ago, being the diligent little adult that I strive to be, I went to empty the dishwasher, assuming they'd be clean. Silly me.
Insert dirty dishes, add detergent, close and an hours later, voila. But no, not here. I have asked them SEVEN times to fix my dish washer and everytime they tell me not to put dishes over this one part so the water can reach all the dishes. Point taken. I make a point to only fill my dishwasher halfway so that it doesn't by any chance possibly block that water spout thingy. But my dishes are STILL dirty. Can you even imagine how much detergent I've wasted in the past 15 months having to do the same load of dishes multiple times? That may not sound like a lot of money, but that stuff adds up. And it's the frustration that really gets me. It's obviously non-working. So here's what I suggest - either FIX MY DISHWASHER or take that amenity off my lease. You consider that an amenity, so it should work. (Note, my air conditioning also broke NINE times during the SUMMER in HOUSTON. Yes, that was fun.)
Make that Apartment Complex - FAIL #2.
Oh and here's another piece of oh so pleasant news. You know, since my apartment complex is SO BIG on paying things on time. I just got an email from our leasing manager that we aren't getting mail anytime soon (you know, the place many companies mail bills, and my clients mail my checks so I can get paid). Seriously, here's a snip-it from the email they sent out on THURSDAY (note, it's now Sunday and still not fixed).
It has come to our attention that our mailboxes have been tampered with recently. Unfortunately these things do happen, especially around the holiday season. We have already taken the necessary steps to have the mailboxes repaired by contacting the Post Office directly. Know that until the boxed are repaired, the postman will not place any new mail inside.
Make that Apartment Complex - FAIL #3.
For anyone that made it this far and read this entire post, I applaud you. I'm already well aware that I'm crazy and little things really piss me off. Such is life. At least my life anyways.
(And for those of you wondering why I'd want to stay at a place that makes these dumba$$ mistakes, it's just that I don't have the energy, time, patience or money to move.)