Special Hamburger

Ever since I started renovating our side of the house, I have coined a nickname for our neighbor’s dog… “Special Hamburger” — so named because I would love nothing more than to feed it a special anti-freeze hamburger or five.  This thing defies all logic of ability in the amount of barking it does.  It’s probably deaf by now.  As are its owners, apparently, because they let the thing stand there and screech at them from inside its dog run while they are 20 feet away in the driveway, or inside, or in the backyard. 

So, I finally had enough after listening to it all.fucking.afternoon.  It’s a balmy 73 degrees outside and the only way I can open my windows and enjoy the weather is if I want to listen to the Barky McGee symphony all damn day. I realize it would probably be faster to just walk over there and tell them to shut it the hell up, but I’m a fan of written communication when possible.  Plus, this way, I don’t get arrested for punching someone in the face.

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September 20, 2009

Dear Dog Owners,

This letter has been some time coming, but it is after a full three hours (and still going) on a Sunday afternoon of listening to your dog bark and whine and yap that I have finally decided to write you and ask your assistance in getting your dog to shut up. It’s ridiculous that we can’t even have our windows open to enjoy a nice afternoon breeze… or morning breeze, or evening breeze for that matter, because, let’s face it, your dog starts barking at 6:30 a.m. and doesn’t shut its yap all day.

Perhaps you have grown immune or deaf to the screechingly annoying sound that is your dog barking. Unfortunately, the rest of the neighborhood has not. Just because you live at the end of a dead end street does not mean there is an invisible wall surrounding your property so you can allow incessant noise at all hours. Yes, dogs bark. But more than a couple of minutes of barking in any given hour is, by most normal definitions, excessive. If I wanted to listen to someone’s mangy mutt bark its head off while chained to a stake outside, I would pay a lot less property tax and live in a trailer park on the other side of town.

There are a number of options available to you, as a responsible pet owner, to make your dog less of a yapping nuisance to your neighborhood. In addition to bark collars and training, there are also devices you can mount on your fence that emit a high-pitched noise whenever your dog barks, to help it to bark less. There’s also the novel concept of spending time with your dog, instead of leaving it outside squealing for attention. If you can’t do that, I highly recommend a friendly country home, placement with the SPCA, or euthanasia.

Obviously, I prefer to avoid personal confrontation. I’m afraid if I made this request in person, I would not be able to avoid using those naughty words my mom always taught me to not say to others in polite company. Please remedy this situation within a week from the date of this letter. If you are unable to do so, I will start filing noise complaints with the police department until the problem ceases to exist, or your dog finally keels over dead.

Thanks for your prompt attention to this matter.

Sincerely,

Your Neighbors

New Lease

This has been the Year of the Shitty Tenants back at our property in Virginia.  There was the gay couple in the basement who faked a job transfer to Qatar to move out three weeks early on their lease with no notice without paying the last month’s rent, without paying ANY month’s rent on time, and having bounced three checks to us including their security deposit.  There was the crazy girl who lived upstairs with her cats that we didn’t know about, driving our perfectly good tenant/her roommate insane, and bouncing checks and paying late and using her security deposit for her last month’s rent, leaving us with over $600 in unpaid utilities.  Now we have a two-month college intern who is apparently as dumb as the day is long (on a REALLY long day), who has a dog with a leaky bladder that has peed all over the house and who can’t seem to grasp the concept that we did NOT have the front lawn re-seeded and a dog run put in (to the tune of $2,000) so his dog could shit all over the new grass. 

Thankfully, we are about to get a fresh new start.  Starting September 1, we will have all new tenants.  Tenants who have had rental applications checked, and paid deposits already, and have jobs that don’t require last minute transfers to exotic locales.  But just in case, we’re thinking about trying out a new, more to-the-point lease with them:

Name: _______________________________________
Phone:________________________________________
Stanford-Binet IQ:_______________________________

       Rent:  $____.00 per month, payable on time or late fee assessed: $50 for first late month,  $100 for second.  After second month we will begin taking body parts.
       Fee for bounced checks:  you will be charged $40 for the first bounced check, 1/8 of your rent for the second, 1/4 of your rent for the third, 1/2 for the fourth, etc.  If you don’t “get” this, you will be charged $150 for lying on Line 3 above.  Bounce as many checks as you want, we’re saving for a trip to Disney World.
       Yard care policy: grass is to be cut and yard watered when necessary.  No dogs are allowed loose in front yard under any circumstances.  If any dog doo is found in the front yard it will be carefully placed on the hood of your car.  If you don’t mind it in our ‘hood, we don’t mind it on yours.  Should there be repeated infractions, you will be called daily by Keyven, who will loudly repeat the word “poop” in your ear until you get the idea.
       Giving notice of vacation of property:  we have noticed that some tenants have not noticed they are leaving, and have not given proper notice.  Notice that if 30 days notice not given, you will notice some big, ugly wrestlers who have come to help you move.  Notice you will not like where they move you to.
       Respectfully,  Your Landlords

I have to give credit to my MIL for coming up with this after her last trip over to our place to show it, only to find a yard full of dog crap.  Ahhh…. if only.

Thoughts on Why My Week Sucked

In my attempt to re-ignite my blogging habit, I’ve tried to refrain from using my blog(s) solely as means to vent. But it seems that, having done myself the great disservice of moving halfway across the country from the vast majority of my closest friends, this method will have to do. That is, until I can pick up the phone or text and be sitting on someone’s couch with a drink in a half hour or less.

This weekend really sucked.  To start, I’m not a fan of holidays. I wasn’t to begin with, and a year of being depressed and crying at pretty much every major celebration certainly didn’t help that cause.  One would think that having Tim back would make things just peachy.  But one would be wrong. I think it’s going to take about a year of adjustment to the year that was spent apart.

Where was I? Oh, yes… the holiday.  To me, holidays are synonymous with: extra stress, everything being closed, traffic/travel sucking, and trying not to spend an entire weekend eating like crap. Add to this weekend’s past one that we’ve endured a week of feeling like we live in a war zone, thanks to the rednecks and their penchant for cheap explosives.  Last year, I was so far out in the boonies that I didn’t think about it.  This year, we had mini-Armageddon 25 feet from out backdoor every.single.night. Fireworks curfew is 10?  Oh, you won’t mind if we go until 10:30 or so, right?  I mean, even though we’ve been setting them off since 7:30 for the past four nights in a row. And last night?  I actually had to go over there and be the asshole neighbor who asked them to stop.  At 12:20 in the morning.  “Um, excuse me.  I know you probably don’t care because you’ve been drinking beer since 10 a.m., but I’ve got a toddler who’s trying to sleep and my husband and I both have PTSD and get a little twitchy after five straight hours of this shit.  So, if you could cut it out, I’d appreciate it.”

I guess my body’s way of starting off last week by sleeping for almost two days straight was supposed to offset the lack of sleep the rest of the week.  Somehow, I still ended up napping today from 2:30 to 7, further adding to my sense of discombobulation and grouchiness.  And speaking of grouchiness… if there is a pill to offset that homicidal feeling I get when I don’t get enough sleep, I would almost be willing to try it.  I spent most of yesterday and today snarking at Tim over stupid shit, and just generally being an insufferable bitch about things.  It seems ridiculous in hindsight, but at the time when he is asking me retarded male questions, not reading my mind, or even so much as breathing incorrectly, I feel like my eyeballs are going to pop out of my head from the rage. I think Valium would do just fine.  Maybe missing yoga class for two weeks straight has something to do with it, too.

Lest I forget another kick in the proverbial nut sack, today is the anniversary of my first wedding.  I guess that makes it an ex-iversary.  Which, normally I don’t really think about.  But thanks to my subscription to the extended family nationwide e-group for the sharing of birthdays, anniversaries, and all things pointless and inane (like what business we should boycott because they support gay rights, or the weather in some far corner of some state you’ll never visit), I was reminded by e-mail that today was (or would have been) my sixth year anniversary.  Brought to you by the group of people who most enjoy reminding you that you’re the only person from your generation of the family who has been divorced (out of about 70+ various layers of cousins). Let’s never mind the fact that I’ve been divorced for four years, or that this happens every year, and every year the moderators say the fixed the “glitch” that keeps causing the reminder of this joyous occasion to pop up.  Happy ex-iversary to me.

This is probably all delayed/compounded/subconscious stress over the month I’m about to undertake: another full-time school|house remodel|raising a toddler|Tim back in grad school full-time|long-distance managing a property that is a pain in the ass extravaganza.  But I’m ready. Even if I have to drink every night, I will make it. And maybe by the end of the summer, I’ll get to sleep for the first time in eight months without the use of Advil PM.  Until then, it’s fun and excitement at our casa! Buckle your safety belts, kids. This ride’s about to leave the station.

Rock Out with My ‘Hawk Out

For quite some time now, I’ve been itching for a new ‘do in the coiffure department. Not just any cut. Something different, something crazy.  I contemplated head-shaving but a) I’ve been there, done that; and b) my sister’s wedding is in December and I wouldn’t do that to her. Then I got on a mohawk kick. Shaved sides, lots of ‘tude… but I wasn’t too sure about pulling that off.  I finally found a pic online of a cut that I really liked.  Long on the sides/back, and spiked on the top. I decided to take advantage of being in D.C. for getting this done because (no offense to the stylists in Pittsburg) I couldn’t be sure to find someone there who could get what I was going for.  Extremely edgy cuts don’t happen often in southeast Kansas.

After some searching of online reviews, I came across Bang Salon in D.C. They have a neat but to-the-point site at www.bangsalon.com. The salon on U Street was most frequently mentioned, so I browsed the stylists there.  On Sunday, I called to see when I could get in for a cut.  Thankfully, since I was available during the day, I got in right away.  The receptionist recommended Camden for my “something kinda crazy” request.  And I was not disappointed.  I knew as soon as I saw Camden, I was in good hands.  Awesome rocker hair, tats wherever skin was visible, and just the right amount of piercings.  The cute factor didn’t hurt either. (He’s married.  Sorry, ladies.)

   As I explained to Camden what I wanted, I appreciated the fact that he made sure I understood what I was getting in to, and he seemed like he was prepared to tell me no or talk me out of it if need be.  But I must have convinced him that I was ready fo r the craziness that was about to take place on my head.  We were soon set for cutting.  During the cut, I was super-excited about how it was coming together. Afterwards, he styled and spiked it up in a sweet mohawk for me.  I gotta say, I am not a fan of the first pic because the lighting on my face sucks.  But I will post it anyway, because I love you guys.  The back shot is much mo’ betta. 

Unfortunately, the D.C. weather was not in the mood for a ‘hawk that day.  Even with an umbrella, the rain and winds gusts on my walk back to the Metro decimated my ‘do.  Tim & I played around with the camera before bed (not like THAT, you pervs) and got a couple of cute shots of my hair cut.  Even when I don’t spike it up, it’ll still be a fun cut.  I can pull the sides & back up and it almost looks like boy-cut, which is uber-flattering to my face. I can wear it flat and look semi-”normal”.  Or just freakin’ messy bedhead. The possibilities are endless! 

Although he especially seems to excel at edgy cuts, I’m sure Camden is awesome at a variety of other styles.  If you need a new salon in D.C., I highly recommend checking him out at Bang.  I will definitely be back whenever I’m in town for a touch-up. 

Warming Up… 25 Things About Me

As you can see, it has been quite some time since I last submitted my thoughts to the blogosphere.  Not for lack of good intentions, or being asked by friends and family, or for a loss of words accumulating in my brain.  Rather than attempt a full-blown return to putting it all out there, I thought I’d do a Facebook-style “25 things about me.” Part warm-up, part getting-to-know-me.  Part attempt to realize that not everything I blog has to be some perfectly crafted story or contain some life-altering revelation (and not that anything I’ve written to date has).  Just that I need to start writing more because it makes me happy, and that should be enough.

25 Things About Me

1. My guilty pleasures include: reality television, celebrity gossip, decadent espresso beverages, hot Krispy Kreme doughnuts, excessive pedicures, and the infrequent (or frequent, depending on my stress level) smoking of cigarettes.

2. I have this weird thing where words get stuck in my head for no apparent reason.  Words that I haven’t (consciously) heard anywhere.  Words I don’t know the meaning of, and thus have to look up so they will go away.  Today’s such word was “avuncular.” Other recent words include: vituperative, obfuscation, and megaloblastic.

3. I hate beer.  Hate it. I prefer vodka, or white wine.  Working on my appreciation of reds. But, the older I get, the less I enjoy drinking alcohol.  The benefit to next-day-repercussion ratio is too out of whack for me.

4. When I lived in California, I decided to learn how to ride a motorcycle.  That was 11 years and 4 bikes ago.  There is no feeling in the world as liberating and I will ride until I can’t hold a bike up anymore.  And then I’ll get a trike.

5. I’m a closet espresso snob.  I mean, just about anyone who knows me knows that I am a fan of Starbucks (I know, big evil corporate entity killing mom & pop shops… bite me, I’ve worked for them and I like them and if there’s a good mom & pop shop, they’ll be able to hold their own and if they suck, they won’t… but I digress). Here’s the big secret, people.  I don’t really care for coffee.  I mean, I’ll drink it.  But coffee does not equal espresso.  I blame my year in Spain drinking insanely addictive cafe con leche.  Once you’ve had coffee/espresso like that, the drip pot just doesn’t cut it for a real fix.

6. In my lifetime, I have had 20 piercings at various times.  I currently have four (lip, each ear once, nose) and I’m re-doing my venom piercing at the end of this month. It’s decoration and it makes me happy, that’s why.

7. Some day I see myself living (avec ma famille, bien sur) overseas for extended periods of time to work.  I’d really like to get back to the Middle East and use my experience in construction to help rebuild homes, schools, and community buildings.  Another reason to get my Arabic back up to par.

8. My uncorrected eyesight sucks and it gets worse every year.  I wear contacts that have to be special-ordered because optometry shops don’t keep the prescription in stock.  If my vision could not be corrected for some bizarre reason by contacts or glasses, I would be considered legally blind.  But I’m afraid to get something like LASIK done because the thought of lasers in my eyeballs freaks me out.

9. I was an Arabic linguist in the Navy.  I studied it (I use that term very loosely) for 63 weeks at the Defense Language Institute in Monterey, California. Yes, I could read, write and speak it. I still can but I’m extremely rusty and I abhor being put on the spot about my language skills. I hate it when people find out and then say, “Say something in Arabic!”  Um, no.  I’m not a circus monkey.  I don’t do tricks. But it’s my goal to be comfortable enough speaking it again someday that this doesn’t bother me so much.

10. I have always had a feeling that I will die before I’m 40.  The older I get, the more I hope that I’m wrong.

11. My next tattoo is going to be a line of Arabic script on the underside of my left forearm.  It will be my fourth tattoo, but not my last.

12. I don’t think I danced with either of my dates to junior or senior prom at my school.  One of them is now out of the closet, the other was my best guy friend who had a crush on someone else.  Then, post-graduation, I went to two proms in another town with my boyfriend at the time who, weeks after we broke up, knocked up and subsequently married a girl he had a one-night stand with at a bar in Norfolk.  Boy, did I know how to pick ‘em.

13. I bought my first individual stock today. Ooh, maybe that should not be number 13.  *knock on wood*

14. My ever-growing list of food turn-offs includes: pointy french fries, seafood that isn’t from a seafood restaurant, the entrails or any non-muscle part of any animal, cinnamon rolls, and sushi. Blech.

15. When I build my Barbie Dream House one day, it will have a library with built in bookshelves and a fireplace because there are few things I find more relaxing than reading.

16. Baseball. I can’t stand it.  There, I said it.  The list of things I care as little about as baseball includes: Chia pets, MySpace, the actual price of tea in China, Heidi and Spencer, how many licks it takes to get to the center of a Tootsie pop, and why people wear those ridiculous looking Crocs. In other words, I really don’t care for baseball. Or hockey. Or college sports unless they’re in playoffs and even then… meh.

17. I’m a big fan of diversity and challenging stereotypes.  I hate intolerance and extremism.  There should be more of the former and less of the latter in this world.

18. 99% of the time, I sleep with a fan on to block out all the little noises that happen at night.  Otherwise I get zero sleep. And once I’m awake, I’m AWAKE.  I would also rather stay up until 2 a.m. and sleep until 10 a.m. than go to bed at 9 and wake up at 6.

19. Due to a combination of factors influencing the items in #17, I am decidedly NOT a morning person.  In fact, one should not risk speaking to me until I have spent at least 10 minutes vertical and ambulatory, brushed my teeth, and put in my contacts.  Until then, I am not human and cannot be held responsible for my actions.

20. I’m pretty sure I’m at least mildly OCD.  I’m also a part-time control freak, especially when it comes to driving.  And I occasionally consider the need for anger management classes (also especially when driving).

21. I’m a big fan of social Darwinism/survival of the fittest.  You’d think that having a kid would change that a little, but I still  really believe that our society has made it far too easy for stupid people to survive.  Thus, they procreate and make more stupid people because it’s a proven fact that smarter people have fewer children… so if we don’t start making it easier for them to kill themselves off (more lax gun laws, fewer pedestrian crosswalks, less safety features on power tools) then someday there won’t be enough McDonald’s drive-thrus in the world for them to work at, and things like G.W. Bush in the White House will happen WAY more often than we’d all like.

22. In 2012, we want to go back to Scotland with friends & family for a five-year anniversary celebration.  (Hint: save the date.)

23. I have lived in the states of Kansas, Washington, California, Texas, and Virginia (Northern, thnkuvrymch) and the country of Spain. Worked in the U.S., Spain, Iraq, Kuwait, and Germany. Visited 42 of the 50 United States, the Yucatan Peninsula, France, the Netherlands, and Scotland.  I like to travel.

24. I am a PC.  Although I find the Mac vs. PC commercials very entertaining (the marketing geniuses behind that series should be given an award), I’m not likely to be convinced in this lifetime that Macs are more user-friendly or so much better than PCs that they’re worth the switch.

25. It takes a long time to think of 25 things to write about myself.  And even longer to actually sit down and write them.  I started this blog last week.  That’s just silly, especially considering it’s probably more than anyone wanted to know about me in one sitting.  But thanks for reading this far.   Send me your address and I’ll mail you a cookie.