curiosity peed on the cat...
this morning there was an out order sign on the bathroom at work and since no one had left me a note telling me what was wrong i decided to investigate by flushing the toilet. which turned out to be a brilliant idea b/c water started spraying and flooding out of the back. so what'd i do? i opened up the back and proceeded to get sprayed in the face by toilet water.
yessssssssss!
she lives!
good news... i'm alive!
i went and investigated this morning (don't worry i took my wiffle bat and a cross draped in garlic for protection) and it looks like that wall has all sorts of air outtake vents on it not to mention all the electricity meters, several of which have their metal covers freely blowing in the wind. i closed them all, but knowing my luck they'll blow open again and clunk against my wall again tonight. i can't wait.
scardy cat...
there are lots of really loud, scary noises outside of my bedroom right now and i'm not quite sure how i feel about it.
if you don't hear from me in the morning send out a search party.
going to the ghetto and we're gonna get married...
the following is a true story. the names have not been changed to protect the innocent (or anyone for that matter) ...
apparently a buddy of ours plays blues every monday night at this bar on "the eastside," so being the daring (and quite strapping if i may say so myself) young lads and lasses that we are we headed on over. now, "the eastside" is pretty much exactly what it sounds like. the ghetto. certainly not a place for white ass mexican chicks like me.
the bar is a hardcore dive. complete with no a/c and a b.y.o.your beverage of choice policy. stereotypically filled with old southern black men smoking their swisher sweets, drinking bottles of booze wrapped in paper bags, reminiscing about the days of yore. ok no bags, but you get the idea. (i'd also like to note that they had free chicken and dumplings for any and all, as well as signs advertising "gizzards $3.00")
you can imagine how @ home we tall white kids felt. especially after we tried to pay for our beers with a credit card (fuckin' yuppies).
so we find a table and across it, 1 seat down from me was this true southern blues man. he looked kinda like this:
ok not really. but wouldn't that be awesome if he did? the real guy was totally what you'd picture a 50 year old blues fan to look like, complete with the hat and all. but minus the 500 lbs. (feel free to picture the above dude if you'd rather) anyway, in front of him on the table was this garage sale find goblet with hand painted flowers on it. and in it was a cell phone, a lighter, a half smoked swisher, and a bag of peanuts. after speculating about whether or not the glass was there already or if he brought his own pimp cup along for the ride, i decided to ask.
the following are his and my conversations from throughout the gloriously surreal evening at tc's ...
me: so was that glass here or did you bring it with you?
dude: (this is to be read in a deep, gravely, southern black man voice) ma name is glass man. i take a glass with me evrawhere i go. diffrent one each nyght.
me: really?
glass man: had a glass in my hand since i was 5 years old.
me: wow. that's awesome.
glass man: what's your name?
me: sara.
glass man: nice to meecha.
me: yeah you too.
glass man: i got good news fo ya.
me: oh yeah? what's that?
glass man: you're better lookin' then ma girlfrend.
...
glassman: (you'd better still be in biggot mode reading this with the right voice) so you come here evry monday nyght or this your first time?
me: this is my first time, seth is a buddy of ours.
glass man: you comin' back next week?
me: i'm not sure yet, maybe. we'll have to see.
glass man: well, i sure hope you do, cuz baby you got a million dolla' smile.
...
me: it was nice meeting you glass man.
glass man: yea, you too. you comin' back next monday?
me: maybe
glass man: well, i hope to see ya and i'll tell you why.
me: why?
glass man: cuz i'm a good-lookin' black man, and i wanna marry you.
score!
take that al gore
i still don't know what was wrong with it. don't know how i fixed it. just glad i did.
i'm awesome.
and i love justin timberlake.
in other news...
i've been having a weird problem with spitting lately. 3 or 4 times in the last week or so I've found myself spitting while i talk. bad too. like i stop and go "oops, sorry, i spit." i wonder if i'm coming down with some sort rare adult lisp. kind of like adult acne, only different.
glitch in the system
i have no idea why my blog has been a blank page as of late. and i have no idea how to fix it. hopefully it'll fix itself or i'll find some hot computer dude to come and work some magic on me. uh i mean, on it.
i'll keep trying to fiddle around with it, but if you're able to see/ read this plase email me or post me a comment so that i know the promblemo hath been fixed.
until then... here's a picture of the greatest job posting on earth...
(photo courtesy of airport boy)
effin' a, man
i totally just drove 30 minutes to the north part of town to drop my car off at the dealership only to get there and have it be closed. not to mention, i let the friend who was following me drive my other car since she was doing me a favor and i didn't want her to have to use her gas. which means i just wasted and hour and an arm and a leg x 2 in gas. bastards!
