I Am Such A Bum

It's Been A Rough Weekend

It’s been quite the weekend.

Saturday I woke up without heat or hot water. Awesome. I called a repairman, who told me it would be about 5 or 6 hours before he could white-horse it to my rescue. In the mean time, my cute little farmhouse turned into a frosty deathbox, growing colder by the minute.

Rain or Shine

It’s almost Super Bowl time, and I’m in a prime location. This year, for a limited time only, Maggie G is broadcasting live from Pennsylvania. I’m living just outside of Allentown, which puts me in prime Eagles territory. And I have to tell you, I’m excited at the prospect of an all-Pennsylvania showdown.

I Can Haz Home?

I think I complained about Alabama’s lack of snow the entire time I was there. Even in July, when it wasn’t snowing in New York anyway. I missed those glory days when I would walk to school uphill both ways in six feet of snow, bootless, mittenless, and frostbitten. Well, I’m back in the Northeast now, and it hasn’t stopped snowing all day.

It’s beautiful. And I want nothing more than to leap around in it with my tongue out like Lucy (I believe she said January snow was the best, right?). But the roads here aren’t so great today. In fact the horses and buggies seem to be the only ones out today. Perhaps it’s because studded snow-tires are illegal in Pennsylvania. (I wonder if the horses are allowed to stud their shoes? Maybe that’s why they’re still able to clop around?

So I was under a bit of self-inflicted house arrest today, which was probably a good thing since I still had boxes all over the house, and was picking outfits out of suitcases as of last night. But not anymore! I spent the day cleaning, organizing and unpacking stuff the best I could, and behold! I have a house now!

Kennedy is thrilled. No really. I know I usually tease about my cat, but the truth is she hasn’t been herself the last couple days, and I think a lot of that had to do with chaotic living situation. Another big factor is probably the fact that I leave for work before it’s light out, and don’t get home til it’s dark again — she’s not used to being alone all day. Maybe she misses my Bama roommates? Anyway, she gave me the big blue eyes this morning. I swear I heard her meow “I can haz home?”

So I had no choice but to give that cat an organized home. I did not, however, share my cheezburger.

Here’s a quick slideshow of my place, if you happen to care. It’s not much, but I think it’ll do just fine for six months or so.

No Like For Real.

The chair came with the room, I promise.

I Mean, I’m A Woman, and This IS MY Place

Because Part One Was So Stimulating.

I Swear, This Place Is Like PeeWee’s Playhouse

She Has A Giant Crush On Mr. Ed.

Default Conclusion: Boyf Is Wrong

It’s been about three weeks since I posted about the blogging debate Boyf and I had, and I figure now is as good a time as any to post an update about the survey.

The results are in, and they’re well, palyndromic. (That means he same forwards and backwards, not Russia-spotting Hockey-Momming VP candidate-like). I guess that’s what happens when only nine people respond.

Their votes? 44 percent agree with Boyf, calling blogs “self-important noise,” while 33 percent of those surveyed say blogs are outlets that contribute to the media and society. 22 percent say other.

I hate to do this — I really do, but given the small sample size Milk and Cheerios is going to have to classify these results as inconclusive, which means that under blog-poll bylaw Article 10.43 section j, the opinion of the blogger reigns supreme. Sorry Boyf. Looks like you’re wrong and I’m right.

At least you’re used to it.

Better Annie than Oliver Twist

Perhaps my greatest fear is that of being an orphan. Not that you would really refer to a 22 year old as an orphan, but I digress. One day last semester, I got a call on my cell phone from an emotional woman telling me my father had been in a car wreck and I should head down to the hospital as soon as possible.  I clearly panicked. Then after another couple minutes on the phone with my messenger, I discovered she had dialed the wrong number. Thank the Good Lord. It was about nine months after my mom had passed away and I was not ready to say Peace Out to the reigning Gordon.

Being an orphan can’t be fun.

But you know what can be fun? New jobs (sigh, I mean internships). Especially when the first day of your new job includes overhearing a rousing game of football in the middle of the office, and watching your editor roll by on a scooter. AND as if that’s not good enough, did I mention the PIZZA in the dining hall?? Mmmmm. Add those on to the seemingly abundant pile of work I’ll have over the next six months, and this little girl is in Type-A, Blue-Collar Heaven. (Minus the Tom Petty soundtrack, though I’ll check on their iPod policy later this week . . . )

So when I texted Boyf to let him know about the delightful day I was having, he replied:

“(Little Orphan Annie Voice) I think I’m gonna like it here!” – Boyf

I giggled a bit. Partially because he usually has the voice of a church organ, three octaves below middle C, partially because I can see him squirming in horror as his mom and lil sis force him to watch that fabulous musical, and partially because . . . Well, I think I’m gonna like it here!

And throwing on a lil red dress and ankle socks sure beats having to walk up to an assigning editor with my desktop empty and palms out, saying “Please Sir, I’d like some more work.” Poor Oliver