Okay, so some women in this world are cows.
And no, I don't mean that as an insult. I mean they are cows in the fact that they LOVE being pregnant, and they LOVE having babies, and they LOVE raising kids.
I do not see how they do it. Srsly. I don't.
I've made it to the home stretch, folks. I got two months left to go before I pop. I feel as big as a god damned house, I'm bloated, and I must say, jeans are the bane of my fucking existence. I'm cranky and I'm sore and I'm sleep deprived, and when you combine all that with the general hormonal ZOMGWTFDIE-ness of the situation, it's... It's not pretty. Here in the past few weeks I've turned into one of those women I despise, going from zero to screeching harpy in the blink of an eye.
Dishes are a big issue with me right now. I don't have a microwave (which makes me sad in the pants, trust me), so if I want something to eat, it either needs to be a bowl of cereal, a sandwich, or I need clean fucking dishes and cookware to be able to make myself something to eat.
Redhead used to bitch and bitch about not having food to COOK, all we had was microwavable junk food and it was soooo unhealthy and wah, wah, waaaaaah! Yeah, well, now we don't buy any of that crap, LIKE HE WANTED. We don't have a microwave, and we don't have any baking sheets so I can't just toss some pizza rolls in the oven anyway... yeah. I've gotten pretty good with putting together a meal on the stove top. I'm actually kinda proud of myself.
My bitch right now, though, is when I spend an hour in the kitchen making spaghetti like my father taught me how, and it gets SWELTERING in there, because for some reason the heat will NOT flow down the hallway to the rest of the apartment... anyway. The agreement is if I cook a full meal, he'll do dishes. He agreed to this when I suggested it. Now, if I just make something quick, that's no big deal. But like I said, I spent an hour on the meat sauce for this stuff, and it turned out fantastically, and yada yada yada... That was last Monday.
Still ain't done the fucking dishes, though. And if I say anything to him about it, the reaction I get is... quite stereotypical, I think.
"Chill the fuck out, I know, I'll do the damned dishes, you don't have to remind me every five minutes."
Apparently, I'm turning into my Granny in this sense. I've been riding his ass about the dishes all week. Why? BECAUSE I'M FUCKING HUNGRY AND WOULD LIKE TO COOK! Every damned day, I remind him that he's still yet to do the dishes. And every damned day, he gets a snippy little attitude about it. I don't need to remind him, he says. I think I do, cuz... he still ain't done them.
Whoo. Okay. Breathe. It'll be okay, Snarky, it'll be okay. Just... take a deep breath. Relax.
Yeah, I know. I'm prone to ranting (read: screaming my fucking head off about stupid shit that used to not bother me... before I moved in with Redhead and/or got pregnant). I also didn't think that this blog would turn into one long bitch-fest about the domestic side of my life. But, alas, it has, and I'm sorry.
But I sure as hell ain't done yet. So, I apologize, for this, and for the blog posts to come (because I know they're lurking there in the back of my brain, scratching to get free). My loyal readers... The handful of you out there (and how I love you!)... It will get better. I promise.
Also, on the pregnancy thing... I miss sleep. Our bed isn't exactly the most comfortable thing in the world, and I will be the first to admit it. But there just isn't the cash to get a new one (or even a better used one) at this time. So we deal with it.
I would deal with it a whole lot better if I could get some sleep at some point in the night. As it is now, I get to sleep whenever Redhead isn't in the bed with me. This gives me a couple of hours at night, because I turn in earlier than he does. He stays up listening to music and watching MASH, and whatever movie strikes his fancy that night on my hard drive. I'm cool with that, just so long as he's quiet.
Once he comes to bed, though... Ugh. He passes out instantly, and he sleeps like an unholy zombie. He smacks his lips in his sleep and clicks his teeth together. What the hell is that all about? But that's not what bothers me. What bothers me is when he rolls over into the middle of the bed and sprawls out, sending elbows into my spine and knees into my hip, smashing me up against the wall and chasing my poor cat out of the bed.
Yes. The poor kitty no longer crawls into bed to sleep next to me, which is what he's been doing for years. He either sleeps NEXT to the bed, or on my pillow, because otherwise, he ends up getting crushed under my bulk. Poor Ping!
Due to the massive size I've achieved with this unborn spawnling of mine, and the joys inherent with being pregnant, sleeping positions are... limited. I'm not supposed to sleep on my back, apparently. Even if I can get comfortable on my back, it doesn't last long, and I end up shifting again. I can't sleep on my stomach for the obvious reason, which makes me cry because before I got pregnant... Yup. You guessed it. I slept on my stomach all the damned time. Arms shoved up under the pillows, face buried in the fabric of pillow cases, legs sprawled out and tangled up in blanket, snoring and drooling. Pure bliss. Can't do that either.
So, the only options I have left are sleeping on my sides, with my legs curled halfway. And if I sleep facing Redhead, I usually try to snuggle up against him and lay an arm over his side, and slide the other one under his pillow. THAT is comfortable for me.
Too bad that he tosses and turns like nobody's business. It results in him rolling over ONTO MY STOMACH AND BOOBS, which wakes me up in pain. OWOWOWOWOWOW GET THE FUCK OFF ME YOU ANDROGYNOUS HOBBIT BASTARD! (Thanks, AD, for coining that nickname. You've created a monster, and I'm amazed that I haven't actually CALLED him that in a fit of rage.)
So I lay with my back to him. Which means I don't get flattened under him when he rolls over, but it DOES mean that I get pointy elbows to the back. A lot. I spend most of the night now dozing when he decides to lay still, and staring at the ceiling or wall when he's shifting around. And I can't just fall instantly back to sleep.
Whine, bitch, moan.
I'm just ready for it to be over already.
On a completely unrelated subject, fuck global warming. It ain't working. We're nearing the end of March, and I spent all day yesterday watching it fucking SNOW, instead of hitting up the pawn shops to look at all the pretties that go BANG and scary liberals into heart attacks.
Hey, I turn 21 next month, and if I can't drink, I gotta have something to look forward to, right? Right!
So, in keeping with tradition and bitching about Missouri's fucked up weather, I leave you with just this little tidbit.
Fuck Missouri's tarded ass weather. Fuck it in the ear. Wearing a shark skin condom.
TAKE THAT, BITCH!
Sunday, March 29, 2009
Monday, March 23, 2009
Holy shit, where have you been?
This is how I feel right now. Just... bleh. I'm so damned worn out, half the time I don't even have the energy to get out of bed, choosing instead to sleep for most of the day and through the night.
How sad is that? Ugh. I'll be glad when this kid comes out. So very glad. I miss moving around and being able to sit comfortably.
Sadly, that is not the only reason I have been absent this past week. I have started working again.
*Cue cries of outrage*
Not seriously working, though, so don't panic. But this is where I need my regular readers to pay attention. ESPECIALLY those of you with children in diapers. This may interest you.
The Redhead's older sister, who he has literally just called "Sister" all his life, is operating a business out of her home. She started it up several months ago, and actually got a website up online last fall, just before Thanksgiving, a month or two after I discovered I was pregnant. Sister has two daughters, one of which is still in diapers. And Sister is green-minded, always on the look out for an option that will be both more natural for her children, and earth-friendly overall.
DING DING! IDEA!
Sister has started her own business, making... diapers. Cloth diapers, washable and reusable for as long as your child is in diapers. You can look at her website, check out the prices, maybe set up a package that suits you, or get contact information and call her, talk to her to really get some insight. Her site is full of useful information, as well as breaking down the argument of Disposable vs. Cloth Diapers.
Diapers aren't the only thing she makes and sells, though. She also sells wraps, for wearing your baby against your torso (which has shown to help raise a much calmer baby. Her youngest is... frighteningly calm. Very laid back, never crying for attention, because she's always THERE!), nursing pads, waterproof diaper bags that won't get soggy from used diapers while you're away from home... The works. Everything you need, made by hand in her home, from 100% natural hemp materials, providing a diapering system that you can use for years to come without damaging the planet by throwing plastic disposable diapers into the trash, and into a landfill, where it will take decades to break down.
Make with the clicky and check it out!
The reason I've started working for Sister is actually... really simple. It's something easy that I can do, without a lot of up-and-downing to wear me out and make me wish for death after just a couple of hours. It's close to home, and... instead of an actual paycheck, I'm getting a car out of it.
Oh yeah, I'm all over this. She just got a new one, and she knows that Redhead and I are really going to be needing a vehicle, so she's offering to sell us her minivan. Or, if I want to, I can work for her, help her with the making of diapers and everything else, and every week when I would usually get a paycheck, she'll deduct that amount from the price on the minivan (which is, in all honesty, ridiculously low, a real steal for us. We're so damned lucky). And it also means that we could apply the same process to paying for the order of diapers, bag, wipes, and sling that I've made.
Now, for those of you who are interested in the diapering system... Go to the website. Check out the information. She's got pictures, too. She can make the diapers in a wide variety of colors, something for everybody. So far, most of her business has been here locally, stretching no farther than the couple-hour drive up to Kansas City. But I know for a FACT that if somebody that she can't just pack up and drive to, or have drive to her, places an order... she would have no problem in shipping out to you guys. I'm trying to help her out by bringing new business in for her, since she's helping me out with the diapers themselves and the van. More business means she's definitely be able to expand. She's hoping to rent out a store and actually operate out of a more business-like atmosphere if business continues to go well like it has.
So, yeah. GO! CLICKY!
Help us girls out, yeah?
Monday, March 16, 2009
Brain-splody goodness!
First off: Sleep deprived like a motherfucker. Oh god, I'm so damned tired it ain't funny. I can't get comfortable and I can't stay asleep, and every time I roll over in bed, I have to lay there for a few minutes just trying to steady my breathing.
I hate being pregnant. Whine, bitch, moan. Okay, let's get on with it.
Secondly: Earworms.
DEAR GOD WHY ME?!?!
Thirdly: Redhead.
Yeah, admit it, you were waiting for this.
I have a couple of points that have irritated me this weekend. What else is new, huh? Yeah. He doesn't seem to realize that he no longer lives by himself, and he has to clean up after himself. Especially considering we've reached the home stretch, and I'm approximately ten weeks away from my due date.
The pressure's on, biatch!
For instance, I cooked Saturday night. Whoo. Snarky's being domestic. Be very afraid. Nothing fancy, but I made up a meal. When I first started cooking, I asked him if he would do the dishes, since I was cooking, and I had been doing all the cleaning here as of late. Which is ridiculous, considering all of the mess is his. Overflowing ashtrays, candy wrappers, soda cans everywhere. Ugh.
He said he would do the dishes. I was happy with this. So, I cooked, we ate, we watched House, MD (who is still the biggest bad ass out there, no liez). He got up after a while and walked down the hall to the kitchen, and I asked if he was gonna do dishes.
"I'll get to them, don't worry."
I'm glad he at least remembered to put the leftovers in the fridge. That's a small perk.
As usual, I crawled off to bed before he did, of course reminding him to do the dishes before they got funky.
Woke up Sunday. No dishes. Not surprised. Washed a bowl and had some cereal and a bagel. Yumz. Sat down and watched some more House.
He crawled out of bed around 1 in the afternoon, and did precisely jack shit all day. I reminded him, again, later in the afternoon: Dishes. They needz washing. "I'll get to them, don't worry."
I'm starting to sense a pattern.
Dishes still ain't done this morning when I woke up. He's already gone off to work. I told him last night before I went to bed: "If those dishes aren't done by the time I go to bed tomorrow, we are going to have some serious issues." He just kind of giggled at me. He doesn't think I'll go off on something as silly as DISHES. Maybe I should remind him of why we had to buy a new set of dishes. Because when I first moved in with him, his dishes had been sitting in his sink at his old place so long they were caked with something slimy and black, and I wasn't going to touch them.
Anyway. And his "cleaning" essentially is cleaning off the coffee table. Dump the ashtrays, throw trash away, then sit down and watch some MASH. Grrr.
Yesterday at some point, we were just listening to music and talking random nonsense as usual, joking about something. I don't even remember what it was, but all of a sudden, he commented, "If you don't like the way I do it, there's the door."
Woah. Halt. Back up. Excuse me?
Correct me if I'm wrong, but isn't my name on this lease? Aren't the utilities in my name? Didn't my mother sign a guarantee saying that if we didn't pay rent, she'd pick up the slack? Didn't I find this place, at the very least?
Don't even joke with a threat like that. Because if I leave, for ANY reason, I'll take the utilities with me. And he can't turn them on in his name, because he owes the light company close to $800. Um. No.
"I've lived without lights and hot water and gas before. If all else fails, I'm sure my sister will let me go down to her place to shower."
Yes. Because that's TOTALLY the way to live.
If anybody leaves this place, it won't be me.
I don't know why his little comment pissed me off so much, but I ended up spending the afternoon holed up in the bedroom with the laptop and giving him a cold shoulder. I was NOT happy, even with a jokingly-made threat like that.
It's time to straighten up and fly right, boy. Life is about to make a BIG god damned change, and I don't care WHAT you want to do, whether it be get stoned or go drinking with your buddies. Baby is gonna come first, and I will be god DAMNED if you continue to act like this.
And I don't want to hear a word of "She's trying to change me like a typical woman does!" No. I'm trying to make sure my child is properly taken care of, and if you can't do it, or you have a problem with GROWING UP, well... There's the door. Don't let it hit you on the ass on your way out.
I'm not taking the bullshit anymore. I've been taking it too long and waited long enough. Some changes are going to be made.
I hate being pregnant. Whine, bitch, moan. Okay, let's get on with it.
Secondly: Earworms.
DEAR GOD WHY ME?!?!
Thirdly: Redhead.
Yeah, admit it, you were waiting for this.
I have a couple of points that have irritated me this weekend. What else is new, huh? Yeah. He doesn't seem to realize that he no longer lives by himself, and he has to clean up after himself. Especially considering we've reached the home stretch, and I'm approximately ten weeks away from my due date.
The pressure's on, biatch!
For instance, I cooked Saturday night. Whoo. Snarky's being domestic. Be very afraid. Nothing fancy, but I made up a meal. When I first started cooking, I asked him if he would do the dishes, since I was cooking, and I had been doing all the cleaning here as of late. Which is ridiculous, considering all of the mess is his. Overflowing ashtrays, candy wrappers, soda cans everywhere. Ugh.
He said he would do the dishes. I was happy with this. So, I cooked, we ate, we watched House, MD (who is still the biggest bad ass out there, no liez). He got up after a while and walked down the hall to the kitchen, and I asked if he was gonna do dishes.
"I'll get to them, don't worry."
I'm glad he at least remembered to put the leftovers in the fridge. That's a small perk.
As usual, I crawled off to bed before he did, of course reminding him to do the dishes before they got funky.
Woke up Sunday. No dishes. Not surprised. Washed a bowl and had some cereal and a bagel. Yumz. Sat down and watched some more House.
He crawled out of bed around 1 in the afternoon, and did precisely jack shit all day. I reminded him, again, later in the afternoon: Dishes. They needz washing. "I'll get to them, don't worry."
I'm starting to sense a pattern.
Dishes still ain't done this morning when I woke up. He's already gone off to work. I told him last night before I went to bed: "If those dishes aren't done by the time I go to bed tomorrow, we are going to have some serious issues." He just kind of giggled at me. He doesn't think I'll go off on something as silly as DISHES. Maybe I should remind him of why we had to buy a new set of dishes. Because when I first moved in with him, his dishes had been sitting in his sink at his old place so long they were caked with something slimy and black, and I wasn't going to touch them.
Anyway. And his "cleaning" essentially is cleaning off the coffee table. Dump the ashtrays, throw trash away, then sit down and watch some MASH. Grrr.
Yesterday at some point, we were just listening to music and talking random nonsense as usual, joking about something. I don't even remember what it was, but all of a sudden, he commented, "If you don't like the way I do it, there's the door."
Woah. Halt. Back up. Excuse me?
Correct me if I'm wrong, but isn't my name on this lease? Aren't the utilities in my name? Didn't my mother sign a guarantee saying that if we didn't pay rent, she'd pick up the slack? Didn't I find this place, at the very least?
Don't even joke with a threat like that. Because if I leave, for ANY reason, I'll take the utilities with me. And he can't turn them on in his name, because he owes the light company close to $800. Um. No.
"I've lived without lights and hot water and gas before. If all else fails, I'm sure my sister will let me go down to her place to shower."
Yes. Because that's TOTALLY the way to live.
If anybody leaves this place, it won't be me.
I don't know why his little comment pissed me off so much, but I ended up spending the afternoon holed up in the bedroom with the laptop and giving him a cold shoulder. I was NOT happy, even with a jokingly-made threat like that.
It's time to straighten up and fly right, boy. Life is about to make a BIG god damned change, and I don't care WHAT you want to do, whether it be get stoned or go drinking with your buddies. Baby is gonna come first, and I will be god DAMNED if you continue to act like this.
And I don't want to hear a word of "She's trying to change me like a typical woman does!" No. I'm trying to make sure my child is properly taken care of, and if you can't do it, or you have a problem with GROWING UP, well... There's the door. Don't let it hit you on the ass on your way out.
I'm not taking the bullshit anymore. I've been taking it too long and waited long enough. Some changes are going to be made.
Saturday, March 14, 2009
I hate you, Internet
So, I'm a geek. It's true. I love Transformers. When I first saw a trailer for the first movie on TV, I just about creamed myself.
When I heard that a second one was in production, again, I almost creamed myself.
Now, IMDB has two teaser trailers up on their site concerning Transformers 2: Revenge of the Fallen. This is great. Except every time I go to watch one, I can't get the damned thing to load.
When all else fails, hit up YouTube. Right?
WRONG!
Apparently, the idiots on the internet (and there's a lot of you little cockbites out there, too) think it is absolutely HILARIOUS to post roughly a MILLION videos on YouTube, marked under the names of various movie titles, songs, TV shows that are big hits and frequently searched... only it's Rick Astley.
Rickrolling. The internet's most annoying fad currently.
And god DAMN IT, these little idiots are keeping me from just seeing the teaser trailer to one movie I really, REALLY want to see. Why? Why can't you just leave me alone and let me watch my freaking videos?
No less than six different videos, marked as trailers for Transformers 2: Revenge of the Fallen, have turned out to be Rick Astley's "Never Gonna Give You Up".
UGH!
The internet has cancer. His name is Rick Astley. I swear to god, I'm going to kill this man simply because of this stupid, stupid song. It's not even a halfway decent song, either. It sucks.
Argh.
When I heard that a second one was in production, again, I almost creamed myself.
Now, IMDB has two teaser trailers up on their site concerning Transformers 2: Revenge of the Fallen. This is great. Except every time I go to watch one, I can't get the damned thing to load.
When all else fails, hit up YouTube. Right?
WRONG!
Apparently, the idiots on the internet (and there's a lot of you little cockbites out there, too) think it is absolutely HILARIOUS to post roughly a MILLION videos on YouTube, marked under the names of various movie titles, songs, TV shows that are big hits and frequently searched... only it's Rick Astley.
Rickrolling. The internet's most annoying fad currently.
And god DAMN IT, these little idiots are keeping me from just seeing the teaser trailer to one movie I really, REALLY want to see. Why? Why can't you just leave me alone and let me watch my freaking videos?
No less than six different videos, marked as trailers for Transformers 2: Revenge of the Fallen, have turned out to be Rick Astley's "Never Gonna Give You Up".
UGH!
The internet has cancer. His name is Rick Astley. I swear to god, I'm going to kill this man simply because of this stupid, stupid song. It's not even a halfway decent song, either. It sucks.
Argh.
Friday, March 13, 2009
This pisses me off.
Granted, they haven't made a public announcement about said plan, but still.
I agree with the senators on this, I agree with the Veterans of Foreign Wars spokesman.
That's... ugh! Why would you do that? Why?!
I have a lot of friends in the military. My adopted big brother, Dragonslayer, is currently serving his second tour in Iraq. When I read the article, my thoughts immediately went to him. He survived his first tour unscathed, and so far it's been easy his second time around, but... things happen.
And I don't want to see him get hurt. If this plan were to go into effect, he'd get shafted. He doesn't have private insurance.
Isn't it enough that the men and women in the armed forces sign up to fight these wars for us, volunteer to go in front of the firing squad, as it were? Some of the injuries they get over there... the costs for fixing them back up are astronomical. And you want that to come out of pocket?
Redhead says, "It would make a lot of people think twice about joining the military."
Redhead, you don't agree with this war, the war in Iraq. I don't agree with it either. I support our troops, but not the war. You seem to be displaying an attitude of 'every soldier is a blood thirsty war-mongering berserker'.
What about career military men? What about the men that enlisted after September 11th, when everyone felt the pain of having so many lives lost to a terrorist?
Oh, that's right. You don't think al Quaeda even exists. It's a conspiracy, the government really took those planes and rammed them into those buildings.
I sense a massive fight coming on from this, but that's not what's important here.
This plan? It's ridiculous. And it should get shot down. And I'll be watching and waiting for it to get shot down. That's.... that's downright evil. Even for a politician.
Hat tip to LabRat for the article.
Granted, they haven't made a public announcement about said plan, but still.
I agree with the senators on this, I agree with the Veterans of Foreign Wars spokesman.
That's... ugh! Why would you do that? Why?!
I have a lot of friends in the military. My adopted big brother, Dragonslayer, is currently serving his second tour in Iraq. When I read the article, my thoughts immediately went to him. He survived his first tour unscathed, and so far it's been easy his second time around, but... things happen.
And I don't want to see him get hurt. If this plan were to go into effect, he'd get shafted. He doesn't have private insurance.
Isn't it enough that the men and women in the armed forces sign up to fight these wars for us, volunteer to go in front of the firing squad, as it were? Some of the injuries they get over there... the costs for fixing them back up are astronomical. And you want that to come out of pocket?
Redhead says, "It would make a lot of people think twice about joining the military."
Redhead, you don't agree with this war, the war in Iraq. I don't agree with it either. I support our troops, but not the war. You seem to be displaying an attitude of 'every soldier is a blood thirsty war-mongering berserker'.
What about career military men? What about the men that enlisted after September 11th, when everyone felt the pain of having so many lives lost to a terrorist?
Oh, that's right. You don't think al Quaeda even exists. It's a conspiracy, the government really took those planes and rammed them into those buildings.
I sense a massive fight coming on from this, but that's not what's important here.
This plan? It's ridiculous. And it should get shot down. And I'll be watching and waiting for it to get shot down. That's.... that's downright evil. Even for a politician.
Hat tip to LabRat for the article.
Wednesday, March 11, 2009
Now it feels like home
Well, almost two weeks ago, my mother, the ever-lovable Ducky decided that, since I finally had my very first place of my own, and I really had nothing to my name to make this place a livable HOME, she would go online to the Wally World website and order me some kitchen stuff and have it shipped to my local Supercenter using their Site-to-Store option. Hooray me.
A hundred dollars worth of dining, silver, and cookware later (and a pretty 16-piece glass set, too), they told her that I would receive an email between the 5th and 10th of March, with my order number and instructions for claiming the stuff at the local store. So I started watching my email inbox. I mean, I needed the stuff.
Having no cookware, or plates, or bowls, or silverware, or glasses... pretty much limited me to sandwiches for the past two weeks. Healthy, I know. Oh well. You make do with what you got, right?
Well, yesterday was the 10th of March, as we all know. And around 7 PM, I checked my email... again... and still had nothing from Walmart.
Uh... what?
So I texted Ducky and informed her of this. And about that time, we both called our local stores. My store confirmed that they had an order in from her, but her name was the only one on it... so I couldn't pick it up. WTF. It's okay, they told me. All she had to do was go onto the website and add me as an alternate pick-up, and when she clicked 'update' on her account, it would update automatically on the store's computers, and when I showed them my photo ID, I could take my stuff home.
So, after finding this out and letting the wage-slaves at WalMart get back to whatever it is they do, I called my mom. They had told her the same thing, and she had updated her Site-to-Store account. They also told her that it had been sitting at MY store since March 4th. Charming. I could have picked it up almost a week ago and been able to eat REAL food! Oh well.
Of course, by the time my regular ride to places more than two blocks away, aka Ninja, got off work, the desk for Site-to-Store would be closed. So this morning, at the crack of noon, Ninja picked me up and took me to go claim my stuff.
Yay! I can finally use my kitchen!
Marcus pulled into the parking lot at the store right behind us, so we meandered around while he did what he called grocery shopping. Him and his older brother, the ever-amusing Phace, had hung out with us last night. Phace, much as I love the boy, is a fucking RETARD.
He got his tax return yesterday. Cashed it around 5 PM. He got close to a thousand dollars back on it. By the time he made it to my apartment at 9 PM, he was down to $300.
HOW DO YOU SPEND $700 IN FOUR HOURS? WITHOUT BUYING A CAR?!?
The boy is a tard. Srsly.
Ninja agreed with us on this, of course. And so we giggled about our stupid friends, then left.
I wanted to christen my new kitchen stuff, of course, so Ninja and Marcus bought me the stuff for me to make spaghetti. And a couple hours ago, after I spent the afternoon washing every piece to rid it of cardboard dust, I made spaghetti. Ninja, the Redhead, and I all sat down to watch episodes of House, MD, on my laptop and eat bowls of yummy s'ghetti.
I'm happy. I can cook. Yay!
Ducky also called while I was cooking to make sure I had received my stuff, and none of it was broken. She also mentioned that, since she knew I liked to cook, she would continue to periodically order more stuff for my kitchen. Casserole dishes, Pyrex, tupperware and such... the works. Everything you need to cover all your bases when operating a kitchen.
I love my mother. <3
So now, sitting by myself in the apartment, listening to some good ol' Scandinavian metal, I can enjoy a cup of coffee in my own mugs, made from my own little four-cup coffee maker, and blog to you.
I am at peace with the world right now. Srsly.
That is all.
A hundred dollars worth of dining, silver, and cookware later (and a pretty 16-piece glass set, too), they told her that I would receive an email between the 5th and 10th of March, with my order number and instructions for claiming the stuff at the local store. So I started watching my email inbox. I mean, I needed the stuff.
Having no cookware, or plates, or bowls, or silverware, or glasses... pretty much limited me to sandwiches for the past two weeks. Healthy, I know. Oh well. You make do with what you got, right?
Well, yesterday was the 10th of March, as we all know. And around 7 PM, I checked my email... again... and still had nothing from Walmart.
Uh... what?
So I texted Ducky and informed her of this. And about that time, we both called our local stores. My store confirmed that they had an order in from her, but her name was the only one on it... so I couldn't pick it up. WTF. It's okay, they told me. All she had to do was go onto the website and add me as an alternate pick-up, and when she clicked 'update' on her account, it would update automatically on the store's computers, and when I showed them my photo ID, I could take my stuff home.
So, after finding this out and letting the wage-slaves at WalMart get back to whatever it is they do, I called my mom. They had told her the same thing, and she had updated her Site-to-Store account. They also told her that it had been sitting at MY store since March 4th. Charming. I could have picked it up almost a week ago and been able to eat REAL food! Oh well.
Of course, by the time my regular ride to places more than two blocks away, aka Ninja, got off work, the desk for Site-to-Store would be closed. So this morning, at the crack of noon, Ninja picked me up and took me to go claim my stuff.
Yay! I can finally use my kitchen!
Marcus pulled into the parking lot at the store right behind us, so we meandered around while he did what he called grocery shopping. Him and his older brother, the ever-amusing Phace, had hung out with us last night. Phace, much as I love the boy, is a fucking RETARD.
He got his tax return yesterday. Cashed it around 5 PM. He got close to a thousand dollars back on it. By the time he made it to my apartment at 9 PM, he was down to $300.
HOW DO YOU SPEND $700 IN FOUR HOURS? WITHOUT BUYING A CAR?!?
The boy is a tard. Srsly.
Ninja agreed with us on this, of course. And so we giggled about our stupid friends, then left.
I wanted to christen my new kitchen stuff, of course, so Ninja and Marcus bought me the stuff for me to make spaghetti. And a couple hours ago, after I spent the afternoon washing every piece to rid it of cardboard dust, I made spaghetti. Ninja, the Redhead, and I all sat down to watch episodes of House, MD, on my laptop and eat bowls of yummy s'ghetti.
I'm happy. I can cook. Yay!
Ducky also called while I was cooking to make sure I had received my stuff, and none of it was broken. She also mentioned that, since she knew I liked to cook, she would continue to periodically order more stuff for my kitchen. Casserole dishes, Pyrex, tupperware and such... the works. Everything you need to cover all your bases when operating a kitchen.
I love my mother. <3
So now, sitting by myself in the apartment, listening to some good ol' Scandinavian metal, I can enjoy a cup of coffee in my own mugs, made from my own little four-cup coffee maker, and blog to you.
I am at peace with the world right now. Srsly.
That is all.
Tuesday, March 10, 2009
MOAR!!
I have done it. I have converted another friend to Iced Earth. This makes me happy in the pants.
It was Ninja, no less. AWESOME.
Yesterday afternoon, after he ran me around town for a few errands, we ended up back at his place, with my external hard drive that usually stays plugged into my laptop. It is what holds all my music and movies. So pretty much, my laptop is boring without this little nugget of technological joy.
But I had taken it to his place, because he had professed an interest in expanding his musical collection, and I had quite a few movies he wanted as well. Including the entire season of Firefly, and five seasons of the ever-lovable Red vs. Blue. Much fun.
We transferred all of my music... ALL of it... over to his big shiny clear-case computer of dh00m. And because he has a little bitty one gig iPod shuffle that he carries with him everywhere, he immediately set to importing all of it to his iTunes.
Three hours later, between the music he had and what I gave him, his total song count came to over eleven thousand. Half of that was from me. I'm so proud.
But the fun part was when he came over last night to show off his new tattoo. We ooh'd and ahhh'd appropriately, then I flipped on some music to listen to as the thunderstorm started up last night. What playlist did I pick? None other than one chock full of my favorite band: Iced Earth.
Ninja commented that he had the album Dark Saga on his iPod, because it's all about Spawn. I forgot to mention he's a comic nerd and a half. Score.
I pulled up the folder holding all my Iced Earth in it. Now, I mentioned before that they have 9 studio albums. That's not all, of course. They've got an E.P. released in '99, intent as a radio-only single to try and get more publicity for the band. When the record company bombed that, they released it as a CD for the fans. Whoo!
They've also got their cover album, "Tribute to the Gods", a tribute to the gods of heavy metal that influenced Iced Earth. Black Sabbath, Iron Maiden, and Judas Priest are a few of the bands they covered on this album. When I flashed the track listing to Ninja, he stopped me cold.
Ninja: "Is that 'God of Thunder'?"
Me: "Mmmhmm."
Ninja: "Play it! PLAY IT!!"
Redhead also demanded that I play the song "Black Sabbath" as well.
I then blew through a handful of songs off of Horror Show, each song garnering a more excited reaction from the boys than the last. By the time Ninja left, we were all high simply from listening to the music, the thunderstorm was in full swing, and I went to bed a very happy camper.
Ninja's definitely a fan now. The song "Dracula" sealed the deal, I'm pretty sure.
I'm so proud. *sniffle*
It was Ninja, no less. AWESOME.
Yesterday afternoon, after he ran me around town for a few errands, we ended up back at his place, with my external hard drive that usually stays plugged into my laptop. It is what holds all my music and movies. So pretty much, my laptop is boring without this little nugget of technological joy.
But I had taken it to his place, because he had professed an interest in expanding his musical collection, and I had quite a few movies he wanted as well. Including the entire season of Firefly, and five seasons of the ever-lovable Red vs. Blue. Much fun.
We transferred all of my music... ALL of it... over to his big shiny clear-case computer of dh00m. And because he has a little bitty one gig iPod shuffle that he carries with him everywhere, he immediately set to importing all of it to his iTunes.
Three hours later, between the music he had and what I gave him, his total song count came to over eleven thousand. Half of that was from me. I'm so proud.
But the fun part was when he came over last night to show off his new tattoo. We ooh'd and ahhh'd appropriately, then I flipped on some music to listen to as the thunderstorm started up last night. What playlist did I pick? None other than one chock full of my favorite band: Iced Earth.
Ninja commented that he had the album Dark Saga on his iPod, because it's all about Spawn. I forgot to mention he's a comic nerd and a half. Score.
I pulled up the folder holding all my Iced Earth in it. Now, I mentioned before that they have 9 studio albums. That's not all, of course. They've got an E.P. released in '99, intent as a radio-only single to try and get more publicity for the band. When the record company bombed that, they released it as a CD for the fans. Whoo!
They've also got their cover album, "Tribute to the Gods", a tribute to the gods of heavy metal that influenced Iced Earth. Black Sabbath, Iron Maiden, and Judas Priest are a few of the bands they covered on this album. When I flashed the track listing to Ninja, he stopped me cold.
Ninja: "Is that 'God of Thunder'?"
Me: "Mmmhmm."
Ninja: "Play it! PLAY IT!!"
Redhead also demanded that I play the song "Black Sabbath" as well.
I then blew through a handful of songs off of Horror Show, each song garnering a more excited reaction from the boys than the last. By the time Ninja left, we were all high simply from listening to the music, the thunderstorm was in full swing, and I went to bed a very happy camper.
Ninja's definitely a fan now. The song "Dracula" sealed the deal, I'm pretty sure.
I'm so proud. *sniffle*
Sunday, March 8, 2009
Babble babble...
I cannot seem to stay awake for the entire day. Nor asleep for the entire night.
Matter of fact, I napped a couple of times yesterday. Ended up falling asleep around 10:30 last night, only to wake up roughly around 1 AM this morning. It was still 1 AM at the time, the clocks on the phones hadn't jumped forward an hour yet. Woke up and crawled out of bed just as there was a knock on the door.
Ninja had finally gotten off work and had shown up. He texted me earlier in the night, asking if we'd still be up when he got off. I knew I wouldn't, but the Redhead would, so I told him to come on over.
Ninja hung out for a while, listening to music and bullshitting with us. That's how it goes. Around what would be 2:30, he glanced at his phone and went, "Oh. Time jumped forward an hour. It's after 3. I should go." And off he went.
Redhead and I piddled around for a while longer and ended up curling up around 4, snuggled down and ready to sleep some more.
Then a thunderstorm rolled in ahead of a cool front and woke me up around 5:30, 6 AM. I woke up and watched the lightning flash, rain battering against the window for the better part of an hour, listening to the rumble of thunder overhead.
God damn it, I am tired.
The storm slacked off and I fell back asleep, waking up around 9 AM. I laid there for an hour, trying in vain to get back to sleep before giving up and getting dressed. I should know by now, I really should. No matter how little sleep or how restless, my internal clock won't let me sleep later than 8:30 or 9 at the latest. It just doesn't work that way.
So, I did what any hungry pregnant lady did. I got dressed and walked my happy ass to the gas station to buy smokes for Redhead, drinks for both of us, and something to nibble on. Donuts for him, cheese danishes for me. Yum. I was also displeased to notice the price of cigarettes, even the cheapest of the cheap, Dorals, had jumped a dollar overnight. Redhead would not be happy about that. And then I sat down and proceeded to write the post about Iced Earth, while listening to a wide variety of their songs to inspire me. It was nice.
Also, I thought about my cat, Ping. Crazy little fucker. Love him to death. He'll be 11 years old this summer. Getting on in his years. I've had him since he was six weeks old, and he's gone through everything with me. And that's been a lot.
I've really started paying attention to some of the quirkier things he does here lately. He grows increasingly more affectionate as the days go by. Used to, he would just curl up next to my feet while I slept, occasionally wrapping his paws around my ankle. Now days, he's either directly next to my shoulder, tail flicking against my nose, or wrapped around my head on the pillow, as seen here.
Total mama's boy, Ping is.
And, like most cats, he's prone to random fits of insanity. He'll go from snoozing peacefully to a streaking blur down the hallway of the apartment, nearly kicking his litterbox over as he attempts a 180-degree turn on the linoleum, and back into the living room, bouncing his shoulder off the door frame and sending him into a roll on the carpet. He definitely doesn't feel his age, it seems.
Or yesterday. Yesterday was comical. I was attempting to clean and get some stuff organized, and wandering from room to room in the little apartment. Every time I stepped into the living room, though, Ping would stop whatever he was doing, whether it be attacking the draw string on a hoodie on the floor, or chasing a golf ball, or just cleaning his paws, and he would immediately tuck his shoulder in, rolling in that preciously cute way that cats have onto his back, back feet kicking in spastic little fits. For no reason. And I would stop and rub his belly with my toes, then move onto whatever I was doing. And he would climb back onto his feet, and carry on with whatever task I had interrupted him in.
But here lately, it seems like he's got an odd little personality quirk. Well, odder than usual.
He doesn't like closed doors. At all. If you go into the bathroom and lock him out, he will sit at the door and cry and yowl and paw, desperately trying to open it himself or get you to open it, until you either finish your business and come out, or give up and lean over to let him in. Either way, the second the door is open, he blinks at you, and runs off again to do whatever it is he does.
Or if somebody is at the apartment, and I lay down to sleep... He'll instantly curl up next to me, no questions asked. And since Redhead is usually watching TV or listening to music, I'll shut the bedroom door. Granted, the apartment is in an old house that's settled, so the door doesn't quite close right, which means... Yup, you guessed it. Ping paws it open, then immediately comes back to lay next to me.
I'm beginning to think he's claustrophobic. It explains a lot of his behavior the past few years. The smaller the place to live, with doors closing him off from whatever room (and therefore limiting his space), the louder his cries became. When I first moved in with the Redhead, after returning from Texas, Ping was insane. It was a very small one-room studio apartment, with an impossibly small kitchen and bathroom. Not a whole lot of run-around space for a spastic kitty. And he would keep Redhead and I up at night, crying over nothing.
When we moved in with Ex-Roomie and Princess, he was immensely happier, with an apartment he could actually run laps in. Amazing! Then they brought a puppy home. A puppy that's only goal in life, it seemed, was to try and swallow my poor cat's head. Said puppy was not allowed in our bedroom, for the simple reason that we didn't like the stupid mutt, and she was nowhere near housebroken. She proved that, sneaking in when Redhead hadn't closed the door completely and pissing in the middle of our bed.
She got a sound beating for that one. And I don't want to hear any cries of animal abuse from anybody. A dog is not going to be disciplined if you don't hit her in some way. Ex-Roomie doesn't believe this, insisting on merely yelling "Stella, no!" at her. No wonder she doesn't listen... and her behavior doesn't improve.
But anyway. Nobody cares about that stupid dog. I'm talking about Ping. So, to escape the wrath of a dog that nobody paid any attention to, Ping started staying in the bedroom with Redhead and I most of the day and all through the night, with occasional excursions out into the rest of the apartment while Stella was locked away.
And it went right back to the way it was at the old place. Crying all the time, shedding horribly, and just everybody being generally unhappy.
We moved into our current place just in the nick of time. Now he's back to bouncing off the walls, running hell-bent for leather after God only knows what, rolling around like he's a kitten, and just being a lovable, playful little minx.
But seriously... Can cats be claustrophobic? The smaller the space, the louder he gets... And if you close a door, he'll make sure it gets opened up, even if he has no interest in going through it.
I should call a vet and ask them that. Very weird.
Matter of fact, I napped a couple of times yesterday. Ended up falling asleep around 10:30 last night, only to wake up roughly around 1 AM this morning. It was still 1 AM at the time, the clocks on the phones hadn't jumped forward an hour yet. Woke up and crawled out of bed just as there was a knock on the door.
Ninja had finally gotten off work and had shown up. He texted me earlier in the night, asking if we'd still be up when he got off. I knew I wouldn't, but the Redhead would, so I told him to come on over.
Ninja hung out for a while, listening to music and bullshitting with us. That's how it goes. Around what would be 2:30, he glanced at his phone and went, "Oh. Time jumped forward an hour. It's after 3. I should go." And off he went.
Redhead and I piddled around for a while longer and ended up curling up around 4, snuggled down and ready to sleep some more.
Then a thunderstorm rolled in ahead of a cool front and woke me up around 5:30, 6 AM. I woke up and watched the lightning flash, rain battering against the window for the better part of an hour, listening to the rumble of thunder overhead.
God damn it, I am tired.
The storm slacked off and I fell back asleep, waking up around 9 AM. I laid there for an hour, trying in vain to get back to sleep before giving up and getting dressed. I should know by now, I really should. No matter how little sleep or how restless, my internal clock won't let me sleep later than 8:30 or 9 at the latest. It just doesn't work that way.
So, I did what any hungry pregnant lady did. I got dressed and walked my happy ass to the gas station to buy smokes for Redhead, drinks for both of us, and something to nibble on. Donuts for him, cheese danishes for me. Yum. I was also displeased to notice the price of cigarettes, even the cheapest of the cheap, Dorals, had jumped a dollar overnight. Redhead would not be happy about that. And then I sat down and proceeded to write the post about Iced Earth, while listening to a wide variety of their songs to inspire me. It was nice.
Also, I thought about my cat, Ping. Crazy little fucker. Love him to death. He'll be 11 years old this summer. Getting on in his years. I've had him since he was six weeks old, and he's gone through everything with me. And that's been a lot.
I've really started paying attention to some of the quirkier things he does here lately. He grows increasingly more affectionate as the days go by. Used to, he would just curl up next to my feet while I slept, occasionally wrapping his paws around my ankle. Now days, he's either directly next to my shoulder, tail flicking against my nose, or wrapped around my head on the pillow, as seen here.
Total mama's boy, Ping is.
And, like most cats, he's prone to random fits of insanity. He'll go from snoozing peacefully to a streaking blur down the hallway of the apartment, nearly kicking his litterbox over as he attempts a 180-degree turn on the linoleum, and back into the living room, bouncing his shoulder off the door frame and sending him into a roll on the carpet. He definitely doesn't feel his age, it seems.
Or yesterday. Yesterday was comical. I was attempting to clean and get some stuff organized, and wandering from room to room in the little apartment. Every time I stepped into the living room, though, Ping would stop whatever he was doing, whether it be attacking the draw string on a hoodie on the floor, or chasing a golf ball, or just cleaning his paws, and he would immediately tuck his shoulder in, rolling in that preciously cute way that cats have onto his back, back feet kicking in spastic little fits. For no reason. And I would stop and rub his belly with my toes, then move onto whatever I was doing. And he would climb back onto his feet, and carry on with whatever task I had interrupted him in.
But here lately, it seems like he's got an odd little personality quirk. Well, odder than usual.
He doesn't like closed doors. At all. If you go into the bathroom and lock him out, he will sit at the door and cry and yowl and paw, desperately trying to open it himself or get you to open it, until you either finish your business and come out, or give up and lean over to let him in. Either way, the second the door is open, he blinks at you, and runs off again to do whatever it is he does.
Or if somebody is at the apartment, and I lay down to sleep... He'll instantly curl up next to me, no questions asked. And since Redhead is usually watching TV or listening to music, I'll shut the bedroom door. Granted, the apartment is in an old house that's settled, so the door doesn't quite close right, which means... Yup, you guessed it. Ping paws it open, then immediately comes back to lay next to me.
I'm beginning to think he's claustrophobic. It explains a lot of his behavior the past few years. The smaller the place to live, with doors closing him off from whatever room (and therefore limiting his space), the louder his cries became. When I first moved in with the Redhead, after returning from Texas, Ping was insane. It was a very small one-room studio apartment, with an impossibly small kitchen and bathroom. Not a whole lot of run-around space for a spastic kitty. And he would keep Redhead and I up at night, crying over nothing.
When we moved in with Ex-Roomie and Princess, he was immensely happier, with an apartment he could actually run laps in. Amazing! Then they brought a puppy home. A puppy that's only goal in life, it seemed, was to try and swallow my poor cat's head. Said puppy was not allowed in our bedroom, for the simple reason that we didn't like the stupid mutt, and she was nowhere near housebroken. She proved that, sneaking in when Redhead hadn't closed the door completely and pissing in the middle of our bed.
She got a sound beating for that one. And I don't want to hear any cries of animal abuse from anybody. A dog is not going to be disciplined if you don't hit her in some way. Ex-Roomie doesn't believe this, insisting on merely yelling "Stella, no!" at her. No wonder she doesn't listen... and her behavior doesn't improve.
But anyway. Nobody cares about that stupid dog. I'm talking about Ping. So, to escape the wrath of a dog that nobody paid any attention to, Ping started staying in the bedroom with Redhead and I most of the day and all through the night, with occasional excursions out into the rest of the apartment while Stella was locked away.
And it went right back to the way it was at the old place. Crying all the time, shedding horribly, and just everybody being generally unhappy.
We moved into our current place just in the nick of time. Now he's back to bouncing off the walls, running hell-bent for leather after God only knows what, rolling around like he's a kitten, and just being a lovable, playful little minx.
But seriously... Can cats be claustrophobic? The smaller the space, the louder he gets... And if you close a door, he'll make sure it gets opened up, even if he has no interest in going through it.
I should call a vet and ask them that. Very weird.
Moozik
The title is "Music", for those of you who can't decipher intentional misspellings that litter the Intarwebz. LolCats started it all, and now I have friends who speak about 80% of the time in LolSpeak. It's crazy.
Anyway. Let's talk about music, shall we? Or one band in particular, which is on my agenda.
Iced Earth. Ever heard of them?
*cricket chirps*
Didn't think so. Not many have. They've been around since the 80s, and they released their 9th studio album last year, but they are very underground. They still have a heavy 80s metal sound, but you know what? I love it anyway.
Iced Earth is the love child of Jon Schaffer, who fell hard for heavy metal at the tender young age of 4 in the suburbs of Indiana. His sister nurtured this love, and his father sealed his fate at the age of 11, taking him to go see KISS live in concert. It was all downhill from there.
Schaffer's drive to make music was so strong, his desire to break free of authority so intense, that at the age of 16, with nothing but a clunker of a car and a few hundred dollars to his name, he ran away to Florida to live his dream. And on the streets of Tampa, he grew up fast, spending his days as a laborer in the hot sun and his nights building his vision of a band.
The band now known as Iced Earth started off as Purgatory, but was later changed for two reasons: One, because another band claimed they held the name first, and secondly, as a tribute to Schaffer's best friend who was killed in a motorcycle accident shortly before he left Indiana.
Iced Earth came to be in 1988 (the year I was born... coincidence? I THINK NOT!), and released their first album, their self-titled debut, in 1991.
As bold and colorful as their history is, I'm not going to quote it all in this post. Actually, I started this post intent on discussing the music itself, the albums, and the concepts of some of them.
Iced Earth's music can be classified as progressive metal, with a heavy 80s influence to their sound. Jon Schaffer writes all the music and lyrics, himself playing rhythm guitar and providing back up vocals, laying the ground work with their debut album for a unique sound. A force to be reckoned with.
"Night Of The Stormrider" hit shelves in 1992, a concept album that tells the story of a man betrayed by religion, turning his back on it in anger. The darker, sinister forces of nature reach out to him, using his rage to bring destruction upon the Earth. He feels no remorse for what he does, and upon his death, numbly accepts his fate in Hell.
After a break of a few years, "Burnt Offerings" released in '95, with their third drummer and third singer as well. Matthew Barlow took the band to new heights with his musical abilities, screaming, growling, singing, all the while infusing the music with deep amounts of emotion. It's a heavy, angry album, and you can tell from listening to it that the band had experienced some tough times.
.... You know what? I'm writing this up like it's a presentation for a public speaking class or something. Not gonna do that. Instead of taking you through each album on the timeline and discussing their history, I'm just going to go to town and explain certain points that I hit upon every time I discuss the band. And some of these points have turned professors into fans simply because of the topics covered and the creative skill used in making the albums. At the end of the post, I'll even throw in a few YouTube videos that you can check out, see if you like the sound.
Comic book fans. You like Spawn? Yeah? Iced Earth put out a concept album in 1996 titled "The Dark Saga", which tells the popular story of a man who sells his soul to return to his true love in the mortal world. Now, I never got into the story of Spawn, but I've had friends who have listen to the album, and they agree whole-heartedly: the deep, melodic sound of this album fits perfectly with the story. With tracks like "I Died For You", you really feel the pain that Spawn felt at losing all he cherished in life. Hell, there's a song for that little midget bastard Clown: "Violate". Very fitting. The album wraps up with "A Question of Heaven," almost 8 minutes of soul-wrenching musical beauty that sums up the story quite nicely. Truly one of the most, if not the most epic album they've put out.
The scary stories that we're told as children... The stories of the werewolf, Jack the Ripper, the mummy... The stories we grow up to absorb through the media... Frankenstein, the Phantom of the Opera, Dracula... For those with an interest in horror, I present to you: "Horror Show", released in 2001. Each song covers a different topic, and it becomes blatantly obvious that this band has a strong love for the horror genre. They even have a song for Damien, the wicked child from the Omen movies.
After September 11th happened, Matthew Barlow felt his existence was meaningless, living the rock star life when he could be putting his time to good use. So, after Horror Show released, he left the band to be replaced with Tim "the Ripper" Owens of Judas Priest. This also brought a lot of publicity to the band.
With Ripper Owens at the helm, the band released an album that raised a lot of eyebrows and caught a lot of interest.
A history-based album, "The Glorious Burden" covered a wide range of topics. A heavy instrumental rendition of "The Star-Spangled Banner" heads the album off, followed by songs covering America's fight for independence from England, and covering the time line of world history. From Attila the Hun's rampage across Europe to the attacks on the World Trade Center, with stops for the Napoleonic War and World War I, everything is covered. The masterpiece of the album, however, is what draws the most attention.
A three-piece, 32-minute epic about the three days of Gettysburg. Blue against grey. Brother against brother. A nation torn in two. I can't say anything else on the subject, really. It's one you have to hear for yourself.
The following year, the band also released a DVD centered around just those three songs. I'm still trying to get my hands on a copy of it. It's very moving music.
I think that's all I can really write about the band and the music. If I've caught your interest with my words, I've posted a couple of YouTube videos with some samples of their music for your listening enjoyment. And you can also check out the band's website for more information.
Also, on a side note: Welcome to my little corner of the Intarwebz, everybody that came over from Jay's place at MArooned. Hopefully this post will catch your interest more than the last did. Hell, Jay, this might catch YOUR interest!
Anyway. Let's talk about music, shall we? Or one band in particular, which is on my agenda.
Iced Earth. Ever heard of them?
*cricket chirps*
Didn't think so. Not many have. They've been around since the 80s, and they released their 9th studio album last year, but they are very underground. They still have a heavy 80s metal sound, but you know what? I love it anyway.
Iced Earth is the love child of Jon Schaffer, who fell hard for heavy metal at the tender young age of 4 in the suburbs of Indiana. His sister nurtured this love, and his father sealed his fate at the age of 11, taking him to go see KISS live in concert. It was all downhill from there.
Schaffer's drive to make music was so strong, his desire to break free of authority so intense, that at the age of 16, with nothing but a clunker of a car and a few hundred dollars to his name, he ran away to Florida to live his dream. And on the streets of Tampa, he grew up fast, spending his days as a laborer in the hot sun and his nights building his vision of a band.
The band now known as Iced Earth started off as Purgatory, but was later changed for two reasons: One, because another band claimed they held the name first, and secondly, as a tribute to Schaffer's best friend who was killed in a motorcycle accident shortly before he left Indiana.
Iced Earth came to be in 1988 (the year I was born... coincidence? I THINK NOT!), and released their first album, their self-titled debut, in 1991.
As bold and colorful as their history is, I'm not going to quote it all in this post. Actually, I started this post intent on discussing the music itself, the albums, and the concepts of some of them.
Iced Earth's music can be classified as progressive metal, with a heavy 80s influence to their sound. Jon Schaffer writes all the music and lyrics, himself playing rhythm guitar and providing back up vocals, laying the ground work with their debut album for a unique sound. A force to be reckoned with.
"Night Of The Stormrider" hit shelves in 1992, a concept album that tells the story of a man betrayed by religion, turning his back on it in anger. The darker, sinister forces of nature reach out to him, using his rage to bring destruction upon the Earth. He feels no remorse for what he does, and upon his death, numbly accepts his fate in Hell.
After a break of a few years, "Burnt Offerings" released in '95, with their third drummer and third singer as well. Matthew Barlow took the band to new heights with his musical abilities, screaming, growling, singing, all the while infusing the music with deep amounts of emotion. It's a heavy, angry album, and you can tell from listening to it that the band had experienced some tough times.
.... You know what? I'm writing this up like it's a presentation for a public speaking class or something. Not gonna do that. Instead of taking you through each album on the timeline and discussing their history, I'm just going to go to town and explain certain points that I hit upon every time I discuss the band. And some of these points have turned professors into fans simply because of the topics covered and the creative skill used in making the albums. At the end of the post, I'll even throw in a few YouTube videos that you can check out, see if you like the sound.
Comic book fans. You like Spawn? Yeah? Iced Earth put out a concept album in 1996 titled "The Dark Saga", which tells the popular story of a man who sells his soul to return to his true love in the mortal world. Now, I never got into the story of Spawn, but I've had friends who have listen to the album, and they agree whole-heartedly: the deep, melodic sound of this album fits perfectly with the story. With tracks like "I Died For You", you really feel the pain that Spawn felt at losing all he cherished in life. Hell, there's a song for that little midget bastard Clown: "Violate". Very fitting. The album wraps up with "A Question of Heaven," almost 8 minutes of soul-wrenching musical beauty that sums up the story quite nicely. Truly one of the most, if not the most epic album they've put out.
The scary stories that we're told as children... The stories of the werewolf, Jack the Ripper, the mummy... The stories we grow up to absorb through the media... Frankenstein, the Phantom of the Opera, Dracula... For those with an interest in horror, I present to you: "Horror Show", released in 2001. Each song covers a different topic, and it becomes blatantly obvious that this band has a strong love for the horror genre. They even have a song for Damien, the wicked child from the Omen movies.
After September 11th happened, Matthew Barlow felt his existence was meaningless, living the rock star life when he could be putting his time to good use. So, after Horror Show released, he left the band to be replaced with Tim "the Ripper" Owens of Judas Priest. This also brought a lot of publicity to the band.
With Ripper Owens at the helm, the band released an album that raised a lot of eyebrows and caught a lot of interest.
A history-based album, "The Glorious Burden" covered a wide range of topics. A heavy instrumental rendition of "The Star-Spangled Banner" heads the album off, followed by songs covering America's fight for independence from England, and covering the time line of world history. From Attila the Hun's rampage across Europe to the attacks on the World Trade Center, with stops for the Napoleonic War and World War I, everything is covered. The masterpiece of the album, however, is what draws the most attention.
A three-piece, 32-minute epic about the three days of Gettysburg. Blue against grey. Brother against brother. A nation torn in two. I can't say anything else on the subject, really. It's one you have to hear for yourself.
The following year, the band also released a DVD centered around just those three songs. I'm still trying to get my hands on a copy of it. It's very moving music.
I think that's all I can really write about the band and the music. If I've caught your interest with my words, I've posted a couple of YouTube videos with some samples of their music for your listening enjoyment. And you can also check out the band's website for more information.
Also, on a side note: Welcome to my little corner of the Intarwebz, everybody that came over from Jay's place at MArooned. Hopefully this post will catch your interest more than the last did. Hell, Jay, this might catch YOUR interest!
Friday, March 6, 2009
Wow. That IS cute.
Hijacked from HairBalls, we bring to you...
Houston Zoo To Unveil OH DEAR GOD THAT IS CUTE
On March 28, the Houston Zoo will unveil its new star attraction: a rare red panda named Toby.
Holy hell, Toby is cute.
Have you ever seen one of these things?
Read the article on the Houston Zoo's website about Toby here.
I found the HairBalls HoustonPress blog post about Toby while Stumbling around the intarwebz this morning... and I gotta agree.
Toby is mighty cute.
And even the "quotes" from the other animals in the zoo are worth a chuckle or two.
Makes me miss the Houston Zoo. It was mighty fun.
Houston Zoo To Unveil OH DEAR GOD THAT IS CUTE
On March 28, the Houston Zoo will unveil its new star attraction: a rare red panda named Toby.
Holy hell, Toby is cute.
Have you ever seen one of these things?
Read the article on the Houston Zoo's website about Toby here.
I found the HairBalls HoustonPress blog post about Toby while Stumbling around the intarwebz this morning... and I gotta agree.
Toby is mighty cute.
And even the "quotes" from the other animals in the zoo are worth a chuckle or two.
Makes me miss the Houston Zoo. It was mighty fun.
Tuesday, March 3, 2009
Ze Blogroll
Ho'snaps! Two posts in one day!
Can ya tell I'm not doing a single productive thing today? Oh yeah. You can.
So, after stuffing myself full of a new blog, and noticing how most of the blogs I follow make NOTE when they add to their blogroll, I figured I'd jump on the bandwagon and point out who all is in my sidebar over there and why I lurves them. So, without further adieu, here we go!
Well, that's all of them. And from now on, whenever I add a new blogger to the roll, I shall update my handful of faithful readers so that you, too, can go read and be educated in whatever way that these folks offer.
Now go! Read! Make with the clicky!
Can ya tell I'm not doing a single productive thing today? Oh yeah. You can.
So, after stuffing myself full of a new blog, and noticing how most of the blogs I follow make NOTE when they add to their blogroll, I figured I'd jump on the bandwagon and point out who all is in my sidebar over there and why I lurves them. So, without further adieu, here we go!
- Ambulance Driver - This guy is pretty much my blogfather. I read him first, got sucked in, and it was all downhill from there. I followed his blogroll to a handful of other people, and after so long, I started my own. Full of snark when writing about working the 'bolance and guns, his blog promises much fun for all.
- LabRat and StingRay of Atomic Nerds - These two.. I don't even know where to begin. A frighteningly intelligent couple that blog about everything from science to guns to politics to general insanity, I was first linked to them through someone else to their post about things StingRay is not allowed to do. From that post alone, I was hooked.
- Crystal at Boobs, Injuries, and Dr. Pepper - The title pretty much says it all right there. How can you argue with that? Wife, mother of three, and completely insane. I love this lady. I want to be like her when I grow up.
- Cranky Epistles - An easily-agitated woman who teaches English at a Catholic university in PA. Okay, so not easily agitated. Just... she has certain triggers that set her off bigger than anything. Like stupid students. Which I can't really blame her for, to be honest.
- Nurse K at Crass-Pollination - An urban ER nurse, battling it out day-to-day with stupid docs and even stupider patients. Lots of the latter, who think that their runny nose needs to be seen by a doctor RIGHT NOW or they just might die. Well worth the read.
- Adventures of GuitarGirlRN - Another ER nurse, full of contempt for the more sheep-like members of humanity. Plus, she plays guitar and bass both. Can't argue with that!
- LawDog - Ah, the much-worshipped godfather of the blogging community I have gotten sucked into. A policeman in North Texas with a colorful upbringing and plenty of snark to spare, this is the man that gets EVERYBODY into blogging, it seems like.
- Jay G. of MArooned - A gun nut, a father, a husband, a biker, an all around good guy who seems like he might just have a short fuse... I agree with everything he says, ESPECIALLY considering idiots on the road. His Road Rage posts keep my sides splitting while simultaneously cursing stupid drivers. Also worth noting are his Friday Fun posts about cars and Friday Gun Pr0n. Can't go wrong.
- MattG of Better and Better - Another officer from the great state of Texas, this is a family man who is more down to earth and full of good information about safety and firearms, and always willing to answer a question that a reader may pose to him. Very charming personality.
- Skippy's List - The website containing the greatly appreciated "213 Things Skippy Is No Longer Allowed To Do In The U.S. Army". That in and of itself is good for endless amounts of laughs, no matter how many times you've heard it. I can't believe he got AWAY with some of the stuff he did. Plus, there's a blog on the site, and every Monday they post a new list of things people are not allowed to do in various different jobs. Gigglefest, all around.
- The Breda Fallacy - The Most Dangerous Librarian in Ohio. Small of stature, big of snark, she concealed carries wherever she goes, and is full of advice to women just looking to protect themselves and their families. Plus food recipes! Yumz.
- FarmGirl of Tractor Tracks - A home-grown farm girl, most at home in the saddle of her horses, FarmGirl is another female gun blogger, with an interesting novella-type project in the process that she posts chapters to from time to time. Very interesting read.
- Sabra of Trailer Park Paradise - A single mother of three that has somehow captured my attention, and in all honesty, I can't really put words to why I'm so entranced with reading her blog. Just take my word for it, click the link, and go read!
Well, that's all of them. And from now on, whenever I add a new blogger to the roll, I shall update my handful of faithful readers so that you, too, can go read and be educated in whatever way that these folks offer.
Now go! Read! Make with the clicky!
Intermission: "Red"
Okay, so from time to time, when dealing with the suckiest of the suck... I'm talking about the dreaded WRITER'S BLOCK... I'll just do a little exercise they taught me in my high school creative writing class. Pick a subject, any subject, something basic and simple, and just start writing your thoughts on it. Colors have always evoked an interesting response with this exercise, so last night while wasting some time waiting for a friend to meet me for dinner, I did this one. Who knows, maybe when certain bloggers are slow to update, they could toss up something basic like this to fill the gap between real meaningful posts. It does give you an interesting insight into their minds, at least.
And yes, I know I owe you a post about growing up in a cult. I haven't seen that friend yet. I'm working on it, though!
The color red.
A color of fire, passion. Bold and brave. Headstrong, some would say.
The color of your life. Blood. A deep crimson, the sign of your mortality. Watch it slowly ooze out of your body, feeling the weakness grip you, and know that your time is almost up.
The color of anger; the bull seeing red. Such an all-consuming rage leads to seeing blood spilled, feeling your anger sated as every precious drop is soaked into the earth below.
The color most closely associated with fire. It burns the eyes as much as the skin with the unmistakable allure, drawing you closer even when you know the inherent dangers in the flame.
The color red, simply put, is the embodiment of all things uncontrollable. Fiery tempers, raging flames, one's own mortality. A certain amount of influence can be made, in an attempt to control, but man's grasp on that control is weak and easily lost.
Perhaps this is why we, as people, are so drawn to redheads in society? The same fiery temper, and our foolishly undying urge to control that which we know we can't.
We wage a losing war. Against a color, of all things.
I didn't say it was GOOD, I just said it was filler! Jeez...
And yes, I know I owe you a post about growing up in a cult. I haven't seen that friend yet. I'm working on it, though!
The color red.
A color of fire, passion. Bold and brave. Headstrong, some would say.
The color of your life. Blood. A deep crimson, the sign of your mortality. Watch it slowly ooze out of your body, feeling the weakness grip you, and know that your time is almost up.
The color of anger; the bull seeing red. Such an all-consuming rage leads to seeing blood spilled, feeling your anger sated as every precious drop is soaked into the earth below.
The color most closely associated with fire. It burns the eyes as much as the skin with the unmistakable allure, drawing you closer even when you know the inherent dangers in the flame.
The color red, simply put, is the embodiment of all things uncontrollable. Fiery tempers, raging flames, one's own mortality. A certain amount of influence can be made, in an attempt to control, but man's grasp on that control is weak and easily lost.
Perhaps this is why we, as people, are so drawn to redheads in society? The same fiery temper, and our foolishly undying urge to control that which we know we can't.
We wage a losing war. Against a color, of all things.
I didn't say it was GOOD, I just said it was filler! Jeez...
Sunday, March 1, 2009
Fuck you, Missouri!
So. We survived the weekend (for the most part). Friday afternoon, we got the lease signed. Redhead was a wee bit ticked about having to pay a $100 non-refundable pet deposit for the cat. Oh no! $100! The world is coming to an end!
Until Former Roomie informed him that they were having to pay a $400 pet deposit for their idiot dog. Whom I glad I never have to see again. *happy sigh*
That, and it's better than the landlord stopping buy to pick up rent one month and seeing the cat, and... Hey, wait, you didn't pay a pet deposit... you lied about having pets... default on your lease!
So, yeah, a hundred bucks. Not that bad, all things considered.
Anyway. Redhead had to work until 3:30, so we set up an appointment to sign the lease at 4. Roomie had to be at work at 4. Huh. How are we gonna pull this off?
Oh yeah! Drop a text to the ever-faithful Marcus, our circle's Guitar Guru and generally all-around awesome party d00d (who still hates us because we were front row for Metallica, whereas he was way up on the 17th row... and Redhead and I got to shake James Hetfield's hand... never mind, I can see why he wants to punch me in the vagina on some days), because Marcus was recently laid off from the biggest factory in town, and he has a truck! Hooray Marcus! You saved the day! My hero!
Ahem.
I spent Thursday and Friday both doing laundry, and folding it, and generally attempting to pack. Didn't go over so well. So, about an hour before Redhead got off work, Marcus came over with his bubbly personality (and very pretty, I'm so jealous of the bitch) girlfriend, Dez. Whom I do adore, don't get me wrong. I'm just jealous because her face has the natural beauty that mine lacks. Damn her! Where was I? ... Oh yeah. Packing. Marcus and Dez came over and they helped me pile stuff in boxes.
Then came time to run pick up Redhead. Quick stop by the store to get certain necessary items (like a shower rod and curtain, because Redhead always showers as soon as he gets home), then we picked the Redhead up. Signed the lease. Got the keys. Dropped him back off at work because he had a safety meeting at 4:30. He was cranky about the pet deposit, but after he told me "You owe me" and I got a text saying "I hate my life", and I snapped it off in his ass as far as money issues goes... he settled down. To the new apartment we went, which I unlocked, showed to Marcus (Dez stayed back at the old place because there wasn't enough room), pulled in the first load, and back to the old place we went.
Repeat.
Ninja showed up while we were all sitting around taking a breather, and kept me company when Marcus and Dez ran to go get some quick food. Never say that your goofy friends who don't pay attention to anything don't care. The second they realized Preggo Lady hadn't eaten all day, off they went!
They came back, we loaded up the final load of small stuff, and back to the apartment. Redhead was off work. Ninja carried more people in his car than Marcus' truck could, and more comfortably, so we followed in the Cadillac.
So we had Marcus, Dez, Ninja, and Phace, who we somehow picked up along the way, but I don't remember when. Plenty of people to help move shit in. Cue insanity!
But it all went really rodeo when Phace brought the TV in. One of the A/V cables was still plugged into the back of the TV. I did not realize this. Phace stepped on it while going up the front walk. The cord yanked out, the peg broke off in the plug in the back of the TV.
Redhead went nuts. "It's ruined now! It's useless! Might as well throw the fucking thing out in the street!" I ignored him and went back out for another box. I came back inside to discover... him kicking the TV. Apparently, he was hell-bent to break it. Only cracked the plastic casing, though.
At some point, everybody ran out of cigarettes. So Redhead and Marcus went to the gas station to buy some. Marcus asked me if I needed anything, to which I barely heard Redhead reply, "I'm not buying her a fucking thing." She's got her own money, dude... "Yeah, and I gave it to her. Ungrateful bitch." Twitch... twitch... Don't kill him... have no place to hide the body... Can't get away with it in this town...
His mood swings really annoy me. His over-dramatization... it's a wonder I haven't killed him yet! Me, being me, and knowing how close I was to giving him a black eye (be proud of me, I haven't done it yet), I went for a walk. Down to the gas station, buy a soda. Call Ducky! Ducky-Mom always makes me feel better. And she did, of course, by offering to buy me kitchen stuff of my very own and making snide comments about my boyfriend's manhood.
I love my mother.
While on the phone with Ducky, I got a text from him, wondering where I was. Must have calmed down. Still not going home, though! Screw that noise. I told my mother about the TV, too. "What a dipshit. All he needs is a coaxial cable, it'll do the exact same thing as the A/Vs. Now you have permission to beat his ass, for just being stupid."
Thank you, Mommy Dearest! Why didn't I think of that? But oh well, time for me to get back to the apartment. It's cold out, and I'm only wearing a hoodie. Not enough to keep my assets warm.
I walk in to the apartment, and they have music playing on his phone, sitting around in a circle, smoking. Okay. Everybody seems for the most part calm. Marcus and Dez are laughing, Ninja and Pat have gone... somewhere, who knows. Dez needs to go home for something, her mom called. Marcus goes to take her home and says he'll come back for me. I tell Redhead about the coaxial cable.
Bad mood instantly gone. "Um. Honey. I told you the TV wasn't ruined to begin with." Didn't hear me. His TV will still be usable! Hooray!
Marcus texts to say he's on his way back over, so we can go get the last load of stuff from the old place. Namely, the bed, the cat, and the bathroom stuff that I completely spaced and forgot to pack. Redhead informs me that a friend of ours a few blocks away has a bottle of booze that he wants to gift to us. Housewarming party, anyone, and would Marcus and I mind going to pick it up? No problem. If he's in a good mood, I'm down. Too bad I can't drink. Muttermumbleassholepregnancymutter....
So, Marcus picks me up. We drive a few blocks. I climb three flights of stairs (What fat black man in his right mind lives on the third floor, and makes a pregnant woman climb all the way up to the top?!), get the bottle, stand for a minute and chitchat because I haven't seen the Token Black Friend in forever (and yes, I did just call him my Token Black Friend), back down the stairs, into the truck with Marcus, and back on the way to the apartment. Get to the end of the street, stop at the sign, go to turn left... and the truck lurches forward, wheels grinding, but not turning.
Marcus: "What the fuck?!?!"
Me: "I told you your truck was a piece of shit, dude. What the fuck is wrong with it?!"
Jack into reverse, back up (on the wrong side of the road, no less), and get out to examine. One wheel was turning faithfully to the left, and the other... was not. What the shit? But they both turned fine in reverse.
Me: "Uh, Marcus. I think you have a problem. The truck ain't going anywhere. You got a license?" Nod. "The truck insured?" Nod. "Any warrants out for your arrest?" Shake. "Okay, then call the cops, let them know what's going on. I don't want this thing getting hit, or you getting hurt. It is, after all, Friday night, and you are kinda parked on the wrong side of the road. I'm gonna walk back to the apartment, because the cops would frown on a couple of minors in possession of a bottle of tequila."
Yeah, we're delinquents. What of it? Not like I was drinking any of the stuff. Start hoofing it the three, maybe four blocks back to the apartment. And it was COLD.
Got back to the pad, and Ninja had reappeared. But there was no way our bed would fit in the back of his Cadillac. Not happening. When all else fails, call Roomie! He just got off work, and our bed WILL fit in the back of his SUV. Hooray!
Ninja held down the fort while we went and got everything, Ping included. Ping still hates car rides. By the time we got back, Marcus had reappeared, with Dez, complaining about having to pay fifty bucks to have his twenty-year-old piece-of-crap truck towed. Poor thing. But we were grateful for his help nonetheless. Roomie also busted out his little tool box and pulled the plastic casing off the TV to show Redhead... look at that, it's fixed. I TOLD YOU IT WASN'T COMPLETELY DESTROYED!
Just because I have a vagina does not automatically mean I don't know anything.
We set the TV and the PA system up, plugged the laptop in, and started playing music. And they started drinking. Whoo!
I don't remember when, but at some point Ninja took Marcus and Dez home, and I passed out. Redhead ended up going up to Country Kitchen. All in all, the night was a success.
Saturday morning blew chunks, though. Woke up with six inches of snow on the ground, and more falling.
WHAT THE FUCK?! It's the end of February, March 1st is the following day, and we're getting the first (and hopefully only) heavy snowfall of the season NOW?!?!
By the end of the day, we had almost a foot of snow on the front sidewalk. Roomie had taken me to WalMart to buy a few necessary items (like food and drink, and some paper plates and plastic cups to use until WalMart had my order of site-to-store dishes, glasses, silverware, and cookware that my mother ordered). Marcus, Dez, Ninja, and Phace all showed up again, this time carting the XBox, and a good time was had by all.
And now, I'm just hanging out, basking in the glory of having a new place, MY FIRST, all to myself. Redhead is asleep, Ping is curled up next to me, and I have several episodes of House, MD, calling my name.
But worry not. The next blog post will not be such drivel as this one was. I'll be talking about differences in lifestyles, mainly as the result of a real in-depth almost-interview with a friend of mine who, while married and with four little ones, is hiding out from her family... and the cult that raised her.
Tune in next time! Same Snark time, same Snark channel.
Until Former Roomie informed him that they were having to pay a $400 pet deposit for their idiot dog. Whom I glad I never have to see again. *happy sigh*
That, and it's better than the landlord stopping buy to pick up rent one month and seeing the cat, and... Hey, wait, you didn't pay a pet deposit... you lied about having pets... default on your lease!
So, yeah, a hundred bucks. Not that bad, all things considered.
Anyway. Redhead had to work until 3:30, so we set up an appointment to sign the lease at 4. Roomie had to be at work at 4. Huh. How are we gonna pull this off?
Oh yeah! Drop a text to the ever-faithful Marcus, our circle's Guitar Guru and generally all-around awesome party d00d (who still hates us because we were front row for Metallica, whereas he was way up on the 17th row... and Redhead and I got to shake James Hetfield's hand... never mind, I can see why he wants to punch me in the vagina on some days), because Marcus was recently laid off from the biggest factory in town, and he has a truck! Hooray Marcus! You saved the day! My hero!
Ahem.
I spent Thursday and Friday both doing laundry, and folding it, and generally attempting to pack. Didn't go over so well. So, about an hour before Redhead got off work, Marcus came over with his bubbly personality (and very pretty, I'm so jealous of the bitch) girlfriend, Dez. Whom I do adore, don't get me wrong. I'm just jealous because her face has the natural beauty that mine lacks. Damn her! Where was I? ... Oh yeah. Packing. Marcus and Dez came over and they helped me pile stuff in boxes.
Then came time to run pick up Redhead. Quick stop by the store to get certain necessary items (like a shower rod and curtain, because Redhead always showers as soon as he gets home), then we picked the Redhead up. Signed the lease. Got the keys. Dropped him back off at work because he had a safety meeting at 4:30. He was cranky about the pet deposit, but after he told me "You owe me" and I got a text saying "I hate my life", and I snapped it off in his ass as far as money issues goes... he settled down. To the new apartment we went, which I unlocked, showed to Marcus (Dez stayed back at the old place because there wasn't enough room), pulled in the first load, and back to the old place we went.
Repeat.
Ninja showed up while we were all sitting around taking a breather, and kept me company when Marcus and Dez ran to go get some quick food. Never say that your goofy friends who don't pay attention to anything don't care. The second they realized Preggo Lady hadn't eaten all day, off they went!
They came back, we loaded up the final load of small stuff, and back to the apartment. Redhead was off work. Ninja carried more people in his car than Marcus' truck could, and more comfortably, so we followed in the Cadillac.
So we had Marcus, Dez, Ninja, and Phace, who we somehow picked up along the way, but I don't remember when. Plenty of people to help move shit in. Cue insanity!
But it all went really rodeo when Phace brought the TV in. One of the A/V cables was still plugged into the back of the TV. I did not realize this. Phace stepped on it while going up the front walk. The cord yanked out, the peg broke off in the plug in the back of the TV.
Redhead went nuts. "It's ruined now! It's useless! Might as well throw the fucking thing out in the street!" I ignored him and went back out for another box. I came back inside to discover... him kicking the TV. Apparently, he was hell-bent to break it. Only cracked the plastic casing, though.
At some point, everybody ran out of cigarettes. So Redhead and Marcus went to the gas station to buy some. Marcus asked me if I needed anything, to which I barely heard Redhead reply, "I'm not buying her a fucking thing." She's got her own money, dude... "Yeah, and I gave it to her. Ungrateful bitch." Twitch... twitch... Don't kill him... have no place to hide the body... Can't get away with it in this town...
His mood swings really annoy me. His over-dramatization... it's a wonder I haven't killed him yet! Me, being me, and knowing how close I was to giving him a black eye (be proud of me, I haven't done it yet), I went for a walk. Down to the gas station, buy a soda. Call Ducky! Ducky-Mom always makes me feel better. And she did, of course, by offering to buy me kitchen stuff of my very own and making snide comments about my boyfriend's manhood.
I love my mother.
While on the phone with Ducky, I got a text from him, wondering where I was. Must have calmed down. Still not going home, though! Screw that noise. I told my mother about the TV, too. "What a dipshit. All he needs is a coaxial cable, it'll do the exact same thing as the A/Vs. Now you have permission to beat his ass, for just being stupid."
Thank you, Mommy Dearest! Why didn't I think of that? But oh well, time for me to get back to the apartment. It's cold out, and I'm only wearing a hoodie. Not enough to keep my assets warm.
I walk in to the apartment, and they have music playing on his phone, sitting around in a circle, smoking. Okay. Everybody seems for the most part calm. Marcus and Dez are laughing, Ninja and Pat have gone... somewhere, who knows. Dez needs to go home for something, her mom called. Marcus goes to take her home and says he'll come back for me. I tell Redhead about the coaxial cable.
Bad mood instantly gone. "Um. Honey. I told you the TV wasn't ruined to begin with." Didn't hear me. His TV will still be usable! Hooray!
Marcus texts to say he's on his way back over, so we can go get the last load of stuff from the old place. Namely, the bed, the cat, and the bathroom stuff that I completely spaced and forgot to pack. Redhead informs me that a friend of ours a few blocks away has a bottle of booze that he wants to gift to us. Housewarming party, anyone, and would Marcus and I mind going to pick it up? No problem. If he's in a good mood, I'm down. Too bad I can't drink. Muttermumbleassholepregnancymutter....
So, Marcus picks me up. We drive a few blocks. I climb three flights of stairs (What fat black man in his right mind lives on the third floor, and makes a pregnant woman climb all the way up to the top?!), get the bottle, stand for a minute and chitchat because I haven't seen the Token Black Friend in forever (and yes, I did just call him my Token Black Friend), back down the stairs, into the truck with Marcus, and back on the way to the apartment. Get to the end of the street, stop at the sign, go to turn left... and the truck lurches forward, wheels grinding, but not turning.
Marcus: "What the fuck?!?!"
Me: "I told you your truck was a piece of shit, dude. What the fuck is wrong with it?!"
Jack into reverse, back up (on the wrong side of the road, no less), and get out to examine. One wheel was turning faithfully to the left, and the other... was not. What the shit? But they both turned fine in reverse.
Me: "Uh, Marcus. I think you have a problem. The truck ain't going anywhere. You got a license?" Nod. "The truck insured?" Nod. "Any warrants out for your arrest?" Shake. "Okay, then call the cops, let them know what's going on. I don't want this thing getting hit, or you getting hurt. It is, after all, Friday night, and you are kinda parked on the wrong side of the road. I'm gonna walk back to the apartment, because the cops would frown on a couple of minors in possession of a bottle of tequila."
Yeah, we're delinquents. What of it? Not like I was drinking any of the stuff. Start hoofing it the three, maybe four blocks back to the apartment. And it was COLD.
Got back to the pad, and Ninja had reappeared. But there was no way our bed would fit in the back of his Cadillac. Not happening. When all else fails, call Roomie! He just got off work, and our bed WILL fit in the back of his SUV. Hooray!
Ninja held down the fort while we went and got everything, Ping included. Ping still hates car rides. By the time we got back, Marcus had reappeared, with Dez, complaining about having to pay fifty bucks to have his twenty-year-old piece-of-crap truck towed. Poor thing. But we were grateful for his help nonetheless. Roomie also busted out his little tool box and pulled the plastic casing off the TV to show Redhead... look at that, it's fixed. I TOLD YOU IT WASN'T COMPLETELY DESTROYED!
Just because I have a vagina does not automatically mean I don't know anything.
We set the TV and the PA system up, plugged the laptop in, and started playing music. And they started drinking. Whoo!
I don't remember when, but at some point Ninja took Marcus and Dez home, and I passed out. Redhead ended up going up to Country Kitchen. All in all, the night was a success.
Saturday morning blew chunks, though. Woke up with six inches of snow on the ground, and more falling.
WHAT THE FUCK?! It's the end of February, March 1st is the following day, and we're getting the first (and hopefully only) heavy snowfall of the season NOW?!?!
By the end of the day, we had almost a foot of snow on the front sidewalk. Roomie had taken me to WalMart to buy a few necessary items (like food and drink, and some paper plates and plastic cups to use until WalMart had my order of site-to-store dishes, glasses, silverware, and cookware that my mother ordered). Marcus, Dez, Ninja, and Phace all showed up again, this time carting the XBox, and a good time was had by all.
And now, I'm just hanging out, basking in the glory of having a new place, MY FIRST, all to myself. Redhead is asleep, Ping is curled up next to me, and I have several episodes of House, MD, calling my name.
But worry not. The next blog post will not be such drivel as this one was. I'll be talking about differences in lifestyles, mainly as the result of a real in-depth almost-interview with a friend of mine who, while married and with four little ones, is hiding out from her family... and the cult that raised her.
Tune in next time! Same Snark time, same Snark channel.
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