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by goodgirldown, on January 15th, 2006 under Status Quo with No Comments
So I’m somewhere in Tennessee, mountain dew in one hand, smoke in the other, coffee waiting patiently for me in the cup holder. Drinking and driving and trucking my way to Seattle when I get a call from the apartment manager of my soon-to-be home. We’re going over the perfunctory details and finalizing my plans for arrival. “You’re going to love it here,” he says, quite matter of fact, “I got a guy from Miami to do all the painting!” I’m thinking, man…there’s a reason I’m leaving Florida, you know? And I’ll be damned if this place didn’t come straight out of the hellmouth that is Miami, indeed. The walls of the first floor are yellow. The second, turquoise. The sixth, puke pumpkin orange. It’s tragic, truly. There is nothing comforting about rolling into your apartment at 3 in the morning, nursing what is inevitably going to turn into a wicked hangover, and being visually assaulted by an orange foyer. Trust me on this one.
Anyway, I’m in the aforementioned hall of death today and I encounter a group of good looking and seemingly caffeinated strangers. Turns out the tall lad just moved in and as part of his rent agreement he is repainting the walls of the complex.
This brings a big, bright ray of ooey, gooey, girl scout goodness into my day.
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by goodgirldown, on January 15th, 2006 under Status Quo with No Comments
I got stood up last night (moi…!) How utterly boring. A nice contrived phone call or email with some hideously drawn out excuse would have been nice. At least it would have given me something to laugh at. Save a very small (read: I can count them on one hand) group of people, I am consistently meeting douchebags in this grand state. As an aside, douchebag was never part of my vocabulary until I moved here either. This foul place is forcing me to come up with all new terminology to relay my experiences. I think I’ve created a small book of jive since I’ve arrived.
I went to an Estate sale yesterday. Those are always fun, though I can’t help but feel a bit overwhelmed at the effort behind it all. It’s difficult to imagine what it must be like to have to go through your entire home, or as is usually the case, go through someone else’s home and separate, organize, and price every little piece of knick knack crap that’s been collecting dust in some desolate closet for a decade. I overheard that one of the owners of the aforementioned fine piece of home was deceased and the other in a nursing home. The ladies running the show weren’t even family, and not having seen any pictures anywhere, I’m wondering if they had any.
In the end, it’s all just 10 cent junk and someone else’s headache.
Time for coffee…must venture out into the world.
