My college roommate was amazing. However, I have many stories for preparing myself to live with this turned-out-to-be-awesome stranger.
One of the first stories was the time before even talking to her....
I received the letter in the mail with my roommate assignment...how exciting! Well, exciting if you were socially ept. I, on the other hand, have issues.
So, I received the letter giving me her name and address. Instead of my first instinct being to phone her and begin our relationship--I stalked her online.
I googled her name, address, hometime, and anything else I could think of. As a result I knew the following:
-She was friends with a band
-The band appeared to be her friends, possible her brother's friends
-She had a brother
-Her family owned some McD's franchises
-Other information that has since become unnecessary for me to retain
Now I was prepared to engage with her. And by engage with her, I mean wait for her to contact me and then hide any existance of my stalking knowledge.
Great...so now I'm stocked on information....awkward....and can't keep a secret. This is sure to go well....
More stories to follow.....
Wednesday, February 23, 2011
Thursday, February 17, 2011
Creeper Window Watcher
Insomnia. I do not have insomnia. However, sometimes I can't sleep....and when this happens I do one of the following:
1.) Watch scary movies and scare the shit out of myself.
2.) Watch episode after episode of House hoping Hugh Laurie's tender voice will let me drift to sleep.
3.) Watch my dog sleep.
4.) Eat breakfast...so I can sleep in the next morning.
5.) Random other ish.
Well, this was a random other ish night. I had already tried scary movies but had freaked myself out too much...forcing me to go up to my bedroom--aka safety zone. Then I tried having Hugh put me to sleep. Ate a bowl of cereal in my safety zone and watched my dog sleep. It was surely a random ish night.
Tonight I looked out my window that faces into our backyard. Not only does it face into the backyard but I noticed it looks directly into our backyard neighbors upstairs window. Our neighbors who, at 3 a.m., also had their lights on. Strange.
I kept watching to see if they too had a none sleeper who perhaps had also progressed to doing random ish. About 20 minutes later, with a short break to watch my dog sleep again, I realized that if I could see into their window...then they could see into mine. Uh-oh.
I think proceed to figure out how long since that new house had been built and just how many years they may have been watching me. This was followed by thinking how creepy they were if they were watching me. Then I realized I need to hang my curtain up in that window--yes I have one, I just can't figure out how to hang curtains at the young age of 26. Again followed by how creepy my backyard neighbors might be had they been watching me.
The next day when telling the parentals about this and asking for them to re-hang my curtain...I think realized I was a creeper for watching in their window for a prolonged period of time.
I will need to do other things as option #5 when I can't sleep.
1.) Watch scary movies and scare the shit out of myself.
2.) Watch episode after episode of House hoping Hugh Laurie's tender voice will let me drift to sleep.
3.) Watch my dog sleep.
4.) Eat breakfast...so I can sleep in the next morning.
5.) Random other ish.
Well, this was a random other ish night. I had already tried scary movies but had freaked myself out too much...forcing me to go up to my bedroom--aka safety zone. Then I tried having Hugh put me to sleep. Ate a bowl of cereal in my safety zone and watched my dog sleep. It was surely a random ish night.
Tonight I looked out my window that faces into our backyard. Not only does it face into the backyard but I noticed it looks directly into our backyard neighbors upstairs window. Our neighbors who, at 3 a.m., also had their lights on. Strange.
I kept watching to see if they too had a none sleeper who perhaps had also progressed to doing random ish. About 20 minutes later, with a short break to watch my dog sleep again, I realized that if I could see into their window...then they could see into mine. Uh-oh.
I think proceed to figure out how long since that new house had been built and just how many years they may have been watching me. This was followed by thinking how creepy they were if they were watching me. Then I realized I need to hang my curtain up in that window--yes I have one, I just can't figure out how to hang curtains at the young age of 26. Again followed by how creepy my backyard neighbors might be had they been watching me.
The next day when telling the parentals about this and asking for them to re-hang my curtain...I think realized I was a creeper for watching in their window for a prolonged period of time.
I will need to do other things as option #5 when I can't sleep.
Wednesday, February 16, 2011
Bad Joke Gone Wet
I like to joke around. However, my attempts at joking around usually fail.
So...a story....
My boyfriend was up with me and the parentals in Maine for a weekend. We had just arrived later afternoon on a Friday night...it was a wicked nice summers day. As such, my boyfriend, after we unpacked, went straight to sit on the end of the dock with his feet in the water. That's when I got an idea!
My idea: Sneak up on my boyfriend and give him a scare by pretending to push him in.
Well, that was my idea.
I ended up running down to the dock, then running onto the dock--clearly making enough noise to wake the dead--and then grabbing his shoulders, pushing him towards the water. That's when the planned went downhill...or rather downwater...and instead of pretending to push my boyfriend into the water, I ended up shoving him into the lake. Oops....
So...a story....
My boyfriend was up with me and the parentals in Maine for a weekend. We had just arrived later afternoon on a Friday night...it was a wicked nice summers day. As such, my boyfriend, after we unpacked, went straight to sit on the end of the dock with his feet in the water. That's when I got an idea!
My idea: Sneak up on my boyfriend and give him a scare by pretending to push him in.
Well, that was my idea.
I ended up running down to the dock, then running onto the dock--clearly making enough noise to wake the dead--and then grabbing his shoulders, pushing him towards the water. That's when the planned went downhill...or rather downwater...and instead of pretending to push my boyfriend into the water, I ended up shoving him into the lake. Oops....
Tuesday, February 15, 2011
Caught Choosing Meat
Eating over other people's houses is fine with me...as long as they know and embrace my special eating tendencies. Sadly, that's not many people so eating at people's houses for me is just...um...uncomfortable.
The other night we were having dinner at my boyfriend's parent's house with his parents, his brother and his girlfriend, and his sister and husband. It's not like this was a first time or anything, it was just that we were having red meat again and this time...I was caught.
First let's talk about red meat. I eat red meat. However, I need to inspect the peice I choose from the plate to ensure it has the least amount of fat possible as well as the least amount of red possible. Then, when the peice of meat is chosen, I must cut my meat before any other side dishes are placed on my plate. This allows for the optimal space to cut my meat into the perfect bitesized peices as well as inspect each individual peice to ensure the peice is acceptable to the red/fat checklist.
So...tonight I'd already been put in what I find to be uncomfortable. I had all my side dishes--but had yet to been passed the meat. I was the last one to get the meat dish. While I lost the side dish battle, I figured I'd be able to win the meat battle. As the least individual to get meat, no one would be waiting for the plate to be passed. I also thought others would be busy arranging their own plates so to not notice me.
Well...I was surely wrong. Instead, my boyfriend's sister's husband caught me awkwardly checking out the peices of meat to determine which one I'd choose and asked: "What are you looking for? Chicken?"
Followed by his mother chiming in that there wasn't any chicken on the plate. With my boyfriend giggling next to me because he knows my specialness....and the rest of his family now watching me.
After mumbling jibberish, I take a random peice of meat and am left to figure a way to cut this meat so that each peice passes inspection while still keeping it seperate from the other dishes.
The other night we were having dinner at my boyfriend's parent's house with his parents, his brother and his girlfriend, and his sister and husband. It's not like this was a first time or anything, it was just that we were having red meat again and this time...I was caught.
First let's talk about red meat. I eat red meat. However, I need to inspect the peice I choose from the plate to ensure it has the least amount of fat possible as well as the least amount of red possible. Then, when the peice of meat is chosen, I must cut my meat before any other side dishes are placed on my plate. This allows for the optimal space to cut my meat into the perfect bitesized peices as well as inspect each individual peice to ensure the peice is acceptable to the red/fat checklist.
So...tonight I'd already been put in what I find to be uncomfortable. I had all my side dishes--but had yet to been passed the meat. I was the last one to get the meat dish. While I lost the side dish battle, I figured I'd be able to win the meat battle. As the least individual to get meat, no one would be waiting for the plate to be passed. I also thought others would be busy arranging their own plates so to not notice me.
Well...I was surely wrong. Instead, my boyfriend's sister's husband caught me awkwardly checking out the peices of meat to determine which one I'd choose and asked: "What are you looking for? Chicken?"
Followed by his mother chiming in that there wasn't any chicken on the plate. With my boyfriend giggling next to me because he knows my specialness....and the rest of his family now watching me.
After mumbling jibberish, I take a random peice of meat and am left to figure a way to cut this meat so that each peice passes inspection while still keeping it seperate from the other dishes.
Wednesday, February 9, 2011
Potholders are Overrated...
My brother found me sitting indian style, crying in the middle of the kitchen floor sitting a few feet from a cookie sheet and surround by cookies. That's when I started what became a trend of forgetting potholders when taking things out of the oven.
I was 12...when most kids, I assume, are staying home alone....I was having my brother "babysit" me. So, while my brother is doing his babysitting duties sleeping soundly at 10 a.m., I'm downstairs being a baker and baking cookies.
First batch....success.
Second batch....success.
And by success I mean cookies aren't burnt...neither am I.
Then...it went downhill.
Third batch.....OUCH! That's when the forgetting potholders started. I grabbed into the hot, hot oven with my bare hand and for a second proceeded as normal. Then pain set in. I screamed at the top of my lungs, throw the cookie sheet up to the ceiling, cookies fly all over the place, and I fall to the ground straight into an indian style sitting position as tears begin to stream down my face.
And that's where my brother came to the rescue....sort of. He yelled at me for yelling and waking him up and then told me to put my hand under cold water and pick up the mess...then proceeded back to bed.
Note to self: Potholders are NOT overrated. Something I still have to remind myself until this day.
I was 12...when most kids, I assume, are staying home alone....I was having my brother "babysit" me. So, while my brother is doing his babysitting duties sleeping soundly at 10 a.m., I'm downstairs being a baker and baking cookies.
First batch....success.
Second batch....success.
And by success I mean cookies aren't burnt...neither am I.
Then...it went downhill.
Third batch.....OUCH! That's when the forgetting potholders started. I grabbed into the hot, hot oven with my bare hand and for a second proceeded as normal. Then pain set in. I screamed at the top of my lungs, throw the cookie sheet up to the ceiling, cookies fly all over the place, and I fall to the ground straight into an indian style sitting position as tears begin to stream down my face.
And that's where my brother came to the rescue....sort of. He yelled at me for yelling and waking him up and then told me to put my hand under cold water and pick up the mess...then proceeded back to bed.
Note to self: Potholders are NOT overrated. Something I still have to remind myself until this day.
Tuesday, February 8, 2011
"It's the police. Open up."
It's 11:30 p.m.-ish on a Sunday night. I'm sitting on the couch watching scary t.v. shows while the parentals are sleeping. It should be just a normal Sunday night...and then....
A car flew down our street, pulled right up in front of our house, and promptly came to the door where the stranger proceeded to angrily and loudly knock. I freak out.
In my freak out, I jump off the couch and run straight upstairs yelling "someones at the door...ummmm someones at the door....ma....dad...someones at the door."
While I'm doing this, mother is apparantly also freaking out and jumping out of bed and running to the top of the staircase where I meet her as she screams "DO NOT ANSWER THE DOOR. ERIC. ERIC. GET UP! GET UP! SOMEONES AT THE DOOR."
Father stumbles, confused out of bed and puts jeans on to go downstairs and see hwo's at the door.
As we walk downstairs...all three of us...mother right behind father and me holding mothers shoulder asking if I should get the phone to call 911...then stating that I need to get the phone in case I must call 911.
As I'm stating that I need to call 911, there's another angry, angry knock at the door. And then as we're at the last of the stairs where we can see the top of the strangers head through the window at the top of the door....father yells in a deep, slightly intimidating voice "who is it."
Now we've come to a stop at the stairs while I'm trying to manuever my way to get a phone to call 911...then the stranger at the door yells back "it's the Police, open your door."
WTF!
So we open the door and the officer has a large flashlight shining in our faces as he asks us "Where's Nicole."
Nicole is the 16 year old who lives up the street. Not here. Which we then inform him.
However, he doesn't believe us really and asks "Is this 33 Red Street?"
We confirm he's at that address but proceed to tell him Nicole still doesn't live here and lives up the street.
The cop them leaves and heads up the street...mother and I are still trying to get our heart rates under control and father goes back to bed.
5 minutes later, a fire engine with their lights on pulls up the street. Following 5 more minutes later by another cop car.
Sunday nights are fun....
A car flew down our street, pulled right up in front of our house, and promptly came to the door where the stranger proceeded to angrily and loudly knock. I freak out.
In my freak out, I jump off the couch and run straight upstairs yelling "someones at the door...ummmm someones at the door....ma....dad...someones at the door."
While I'm doing this, mother is apparantly also freaking out and jumping out of bed and running to the top of the staircase where I meet her as she screams "DO NOT ANSWER THE DOOR. ERIC. ERIC. GET UP! GET UP! SOMEONES AT THE DOOR."
Father stumbles, confused out of bed and puts jeans on to go downstairs and see hwo's at the door.
As we walk downstairs...all three of us...mother right behind father and me holding mothers shoulder asking if I should get the phone to call 911...then stating that I need to get the phone in case I must call 911.
As I'm stating that I need to call 911, there's another angry, angry knock at the door. And then as we're at the last of the stairs where we can see the top of the strangers head through the window at the top of the door....father yells in a deep, slightly intimidating voice "who is it."
Now we've come to a stop at the stairs while I'm trying to manuever my way to get a phone to call 911...then the stranger at the door yells back "it's the Police, open your door."
WTF!
So we open the door and the officer has a large flashlight shining in our faces as he asks us "Where's Nicole."
Nicole is the 16 year old who lives up the street. Not here. Which we then inform him.
However, he doesn't believe us really and asks "Is this 33 Red Street?"
We confirm he's at that address but proceed to tell him Nicole still doesn't live here and lives up the street.
The cop them leaves and heads up the street...mother and I are still trying to get our heart rates under control and father goes back to bed.
5 minutes later, a fire engine with their lights on pulls up the street. Following 5 more minutes later by another cop car.
Sunday nights are fun....
Monday, February 7, 2011
Roof Collapse
It's been snowing a lot recently and there's been a lot of articles and news stories in regard to roofs collapsing. Naturally, I fear for my life.
When I fear for my life, I generally try to contact the parentals.
Today, after reading the articles and watching the news stories I had to contact the parentals about my safety. So, I emailed mother and father. The exchange goes as follows:
Me: Should we be clearing off our roof?
Father: If it wasn't so high, yes, but I think it is too high so I would rather risk water damage than injury. I don't think weight (i.e. collapsing) would be a real problem because it does have an angle on it that spreads the load.
...I think flip back to the photos in the articles and not that they too have an angled rood. I think go outside and check out our roof....when I come back in, the email exchange continues:
Me: So, I dnn't have to worry about our roof collapsing? cuz I was just loooking at the sides of the roof and there's a good inch of ice already formed on the edges. Damn articles have frightened me.
Father: If those damn articles on the roof damn bother you, you could put the motorcycle helmet on and sit in a doorway for additional safety. Make sure you have your cell phone and a flashlight.
Me: Well. If you need me, that's where I'll be.
When I fear for my life, I generally try to contact the parentals.
Today, after reading the articles and watching the news stories I had to contact the parentals about my safety. So, I emailed mother and father. The exchange goes as follows:
Me: Should we be clearing off our roof?
Father: If it wasn't so high, yes, but I think it is too high so I would rather risk water damage than injury. I don't think weight (i.e. collapsing) would be a real problem because it does have an angle on it that spreads the load.
...I think flip back to the photos in the articles and not that they too have an angled rood. I think go outside and check out our roof....when I come back in, the email exchange continues:
Me: So, I dnn't have to worry about our roof collapsing? cuz I was just loooking at the sides of the roof and there's a good inch of ice already formed on the edges. Damn articles have frightened me.
Father: If those damn articles on the roof damn bother you, you could put the motorcycle helmet on and sit in a doorway for additional safety. Make sure you have your cell phone and a flashlight.
Me: Well. If you need me, that's where I'll be.
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