Stolen Lines #2 – Moving Back to a Ghost-Filled Neighborhood

"Ghosts definitely live here," I say.

I remember to the right is where my friend used to live. I would pick her up and we would go to the bar right there. Walking around looking to meet some guys.

That bar. Packed full of ghosts. Overflowing with them. Ghosts of a past where I was much more reckless, barely recognizable to this person I am now. Many, many, many nights spent drinking there, with friends who have since moved far away, and have stayed close, who have gotten married, had kids, stayed single, and those that still go to the bar, like no time has passed at all. Good memories, bad memories. Ghosts I welcome in my thoughts, ghosts I try very hard to forget.

Memories of the neighborhood party house remembered as I drive by, on my way to the grocery store, or Wal-Mart. Memories of a past life, with past friends collide with the mundane errands of this life.

Another house off another street. Where my ex used to live in this past life. His parents’ house? Just turn right there.

My parents lived down that road to your left. I never visited them, even though I lived just 20 minutes away. Regrets remembered as they now live 5 hours away.

The boarded-up grocery store where old ghosts/friends and I once attempted to buy beer at 10:00 A.M. Refused, we walked back to that ghost filled house down the street where I used to live.

I run into ghosts, while shopping, at fast food restaurants, at the library. Every where I turn, I fear running into someone from my past. Running into someone who remembers that all these ghosts exist, while I think of the ghost that they are.

In my present life, where the ghosts don’t exist, where they are shuffled back, away, in the deep recesses of a sometimes regret-filled, sometimes happy memory, I forgot all these ghosts existed. It was not until we bought the house, moved in, got comfortable, did the ghosts reappear. They hid out, never surfacing before the decision was made. Now, they are everywhere I go. Inescapable. Omnipresent.

I spent years away from this part of town, from this city even. Making new memories and meeting new people, who are now ghosts that exist in different spots and different states. Moving back to this area, has resurrected hundreds of ghosts, in every corner. I can’t hide from them.

Ghosts definitely live here, but now, so do I. I must make peace with the ghosts. Good and bad ghosts. They are in the past, but they are also a big part of me.

This is a part of Grace's experiment. I stole the first line of this post from You'll Never Eat Lunch in This town Again, by Julia Phillips.

Am Too Busy To Title This Post.

Looking back at the last month is a bit overwhelming.

I haven't been around much because my job - they are making me work really hard for the money. Really hard.

Buying a new house? Um, time-consuming. Getting ready each morning is much more difficult when you have to wiggle along the floor past the windows, naked, because you haven't put up curtains yet. Also, losing the keys for 3 weeks is a bad idea.

New homes? Don't have innernet access. You have to have a huge tunnel for cabling dug in your backyard. And then they don't bury it.

And you live in fear that the new dog that you just got, is going to eat the cable. But you can't decide which is worse - the potential for electrocution of the dog or the loss of internets once the dog gets electrocuted.



Sorry the pic kinda sucks. I can't find my camera, so this is a phone pic. And he doesn't stop moving ever. He is an 8 week old border collie. Please name him. We suck at naming animals - our 1 1/2 year old cat is officially named Kitten. So please help this poor dog.

Don't even get me started on Christmas. My sister - employs slave labor and pays in tamales and Monster energy drinks.

I spent my Christmas vacation putting this together.




It took 4 people 2 days to put it together. 2 entire days. From 7 AM until dark.

My kids - never getting a play set. They have their aunt to blame.

So, in review:

2007 - This Year Can Totally Suck it.

2008 - The Best Year Ever.

2009 - On Track to Be The Best Year Ever.

Spewing Forth The Words

I am an extremely polite person. My mother is a quiet, calm, introverted woman who rarely makes any manner missteps. She taught me by example to be a quiet, polite, respectful person.

One thing she was never able to pass on to me is to keep my mouth shut. If she has something to say, she won’t say it. It drives me crazy to this day that she would never express an opinion about some of the wayward things I did when I was younger. After I broke off my previous long-term relationships with jerky, lazy, good for nothing no-gooders, she expressed relief and said that she was concerned about the relationship, that she didn’t agree with it. I always wanted to scream at her, “WHY DIDN’T YOU SAY SOMETHING!” Words from my mom may have made me come to my senses before I spent 5 years with each of those losers.

But never….she always kept it in. Waited until I realized, on my own, what a bad decision I had made, before she said a word.

The extreme politeness.

I have none of that. If I feel something, if I am mad, if I think the movie sucked, if I think your boyfriend is a jerk, I will try to keep my mouth shut, because as my momma taught me, it is polite to shut the fuck up, however, I promise you that my feelings are going to come out at some time. I can’t help myself. The words sit at the back of my throat gagging me until I have to either get them out or suffocate.

This is why I haven’t been around here. I had words that have been smothering me. Words that I wanted to say so badly yet I couldn’t do it yet.

Another way I am completely different from my mom is that I am not very good at keeping my business a secret. Not in the Britney Spears way of exposing her business, but in the, I am an open book and will tell some stranger at the grocery store my life story way.

And excitement. I have rarely seen my mom truly excited. She has such a calm nature whereas I am, well, spastic at times. I am not easily contained.

My feelings, my excitement, my words spew out of me, out of control.

So when, several weeks ago, Not Craig and I did something wild and crazy and utterly awesome, I didn’t tell many people.

Oh I told some, he told some. We couldn’t keep ourselves contained that well. However, pending actual definite approval, we kept it a bit under wraps. I haven’t told anyone except the absolute required people I work with and I didn’t write a word on here, because I knew I couldn’t write about anything else so I stayed away.

In fact, now that I am getting closer to leaking it to you guys, I am not sure if I want to spill it just yet.

Nothing is final yet, what if it all falls through.

And for some, others who have already walked in these shoes, it is not a big deal. To Not Craig and I, though, it is huge. We have been wanting to do this for some time and hadn’t thought it possible just yet. Thought that although we had been doing things responsibly for some time, that we just weren’t quite in the right position yet, apparently however, some fool disagreed and totally qualified us to buy our very first home.

A gorgeous home.

A home that I am so in love with.

In a place that I am so in love with.

With a man that I am so in love with.

So Yea us. And Yea me for keeping my flapping gums shut for a whole three weeks.

We were just approved for the mortgage, a daunting thing given the current climate. I guess I should thank Barney Frank and his stupid cronies for making it possible that banks are continuing to lend. Thanks Paulson. Thanks RINO’s. I appreciate you giving Not Craig and I the same opportunities millions of other people get. The opportunity to foreclose on our very first home. Thank you. Now I am going to go tell every single soul I run into.

This is Definitely More Eisenhower than Turner.

Out of all this hurricane mess and complaining and bitchy, smelly people and just sadness, anger, and all sorts of negativity, there is good. Which is so important to remember. It is so easy to dwell on the bad things about this hurricane. It is so easy to do. It is harder to appreciate the good. Which is so true about life in general.

The other night, sitting around the radio for the evening Fireside Chat, the radio station changed it up. As things have improved, they have stopped taking calls of problems and complaints, but were asking what people were doing to pass the time without electricity.

The answers were heartwarming. People explained how they were telling their children and grandchildren stories, our history, about the World Wars, about 9/11, about how they met, about growing up.

They were playing Uno together. As a family. They were teaching their children Mother May I, Red Light Green Light, Simon Says. Kids were playing outside.

Couples that used to sit, not talking, vegging out to the television in the evenings, are rekindling their romance. Remembering what brought them together. Talking at length for the first time in a very long time.

One gentleman discussed how his family is spending the hurricane. He was reconnecting with his wife and daughter. Playing games, talking, getting to know them again. He was brought to tears as he explained how he was afraid for the lights to come back on. In fact, his family had decided to have "Hurricane Thursdays" where they flip the breaker and spend a night without power, to recreate the closeness they have just discovered.

I too would like to have power out days (Not any time soon as I really want power on days first). I would like days to appreciate the slowness, the stillness, the thoughts within. To appreciate why I am with Not Craig, why I am so madly in love with the man.

I want to remember to slow down. Consider the basics - Family, Friendship, Work, Daily Living, Spirituality. I don't want to take these things for granted when the power returns and I return to being addicted to the internet, Not Craig to his computer or Fox News. Not talking.

I don't want to take for granted these days without power and what I have learned.

I typically keep myself very busy. There is always something for me to do, to clean, to take care of.

Constant motion.

With the power off, I have slowed. I don't have the ability to do certain things I would typically do and I don't really have the desire to do those things that I could do. Instead, I sit in thought, I do simple things, read, play Yahtzee, listen to the radio, pet the cats.

Today, I have absolutely nothing to do. Hours stretch before me while I wonder how to fill them. While it is relaxing, refreshing, it is also stressful to my Type A personality. How do I do Nothing?

Shouldn't I be doing something?

Of course, I should be doing something. I should be appreciating what I have, enjoying my time with my loved ones, spending time in my favorite activities.

One more lesson from Ike.

The Ike Effect

I was planning on writing a positive, upbeat, uplifting post about the awesomeness shutting the power off for days on end can produce in a relationship. How close you can become with your loved ones. I even have a full page of notes about it, written over lantern light last night.

But the never ending question of “Do you have power yet?” has resulted in some type of jealousy syndrome. Let’s call it the Ike Effect. Part of it is that needling feeling of hopefulness when you return home after a wonderfully cool day at work where they have all the modern conveniences of life like coffee, internet and air conditioning. That hopeful glee with which you flip that light switch. That insulting lack of response which dashes all hopes of spending the evening watching mindless TV while eating ice cream kept in your perfectly frozen freezer. That life where you take electricity for granted.

Which is fine, I am ok with it. I am in the same boat as countless other Houstonians. The true Ike Effect takes over each morning, the question that has replaced how about them _insert random sports team here_?, when everyone you pass asks “Do you have power yet?” Then that asshole admits that yea, he got power last night. To which you picture strangling him, hiding his body in his swimming pool that is covered in leaves and miscellaneous storm debris so that his body won’t be found for a long, long time and you will be able to enjoy that comforting A/C while you surf the innernets on his couch.

The number of people I know that have power is increasing exponentially all while that damned tree remains firmly on top of my suspected power line. I hate that tree with every bit of my being.

There is only 1 person I know that has a similar problem. Her power box was pulled off her house by a tree limb. She will have to wait for the power company to reattach it to her house. It is probably really wrong on all levels that I am hopeful that at least one other person in my small circle of friends and acquaintances will get their power on sometime after me. I want everyone to get it back, I just don't want to be the last person!

I promise to write about the wonderfulness that being powerless can bring to your life. Probably the day after I get power. (I also promise to stop writing all hurricane all the time posts. Also probably right after I get power.)

Hurricane Fatigue?

We are continuing on in the land of gas lines and the unbathed. More and more electricity is getting reconnected. Or so I have been told. 2 of my coworkers have power now, which, if I can still do math, means about 5% of the city of Houston has power. Some peeps, those with wells, or apartments with weird water constructions that I don’t understand, don’t have water because the power is out.

I can handle no electricity. I am perfectly fine at home without power….I have a job to go to that has power and electricity and TV dinners and supposedly open restaurants within walking distance (I am a bit excited about lunch, ya’ll. A hot lunch. Wee!) At home, I finish Sudoku puzzles, and swat mosquitos and go eat dinner elsewhere. Or pick my toes. There are lots of things to do without electricity.

We have candles and lanterns for light in the evening.

We constructed a fancy ass screen out of a mosquito net for our open windows.

Get this – The Academy store did not have power. When Not Craig went on a mission of mosquito control, he had to be escorted around the dark store by an employee wearing a headlamp and then walked to the registers, the only portion of the store with power, supplied by a generator.

We have tacked up mosquito nets over our open windows, we have plenty of poptarts left, we are doing well. Thriving.

We listen to the radio in the evenings a la Fireside Chats. (Which given the economic news recently, quite reminiscent of the actual Fireside Chats!) It is kinda irritating listening to the callers though. Many, many people are taking this all in stride, calling in to thank the workers who are trying to restore power, those serving ice, water and MRE’s at the “Points of Distribution” or POD’s, thanking the Mayor and his sidekicks in keeping the public well-informed. Others…..well…. the hurricane left some complainers behind.

Callers complaining that they don’t have power. Hmm? 1.5 million households don’t have power. Ya think calling a radio station or your power company or your mama will get your power turned back on ahead of those 1,499,999 other households. Callers complaining that a POD ran out of ice and how are we gonna survive another day without ice or complaining that they can’t wait in a gas line for an hour or complaining that the curfew is martial law or complaining that the city didn’t respond quickly enough. And on and on and on.

It is really sad.

It is really sad that when people have lost their homes, every single belonging they have, their place of employment, pets and photos, and children’s toys and so many things that they cherished, that people are complaining about having to drink room temp water.

It sucks. Yea, it does. I wish I had power to my coffee maker and could take a hot shower in a room that was well lit.

I wish that my friend didn’t lose her house, too.

She doesn’t have a house. So shut up that you are missing out on So You Think You Can Dance. Because I am about to shove a mosquito net down your throat.

Eisenhower or Turner? He Made A Mess!

We returned from our evacuation getaway yesterday. It was a bit surreal as we got closer and closer to Houston. We passed up Centerville, which is the halfway point between Houston and Dallas. We zoomed right past it without stopping, not really thinking that the problems would be so far north. As we passed, we noticed that a bunch of cars were backed up on the exit ramp going north. We continued on to Madisonville where we stopped in order to top off our tank, knowing that Houston was a wreck of no power and no fuel. Madisonville, a full hour and a half north of Houston had no power and no fuel. As we continued into Huntsville, more and more trees were downed, more billboards had been knocked over.

As we approached Huntsville, stop and go traffic began. We started getting itchy. Worried that this stop and go business would continue all the way into Houston. While we were perfectly fine on gas if traffic moved at normal speeds, we were not going to be able to go 10 mph and make it. We pulled out Tom Tom and tried to find some out of the way gas stations within the center of Huntsville. Unfortunately, there was no power anywhere we drove. The 2 gas stations that we did see with fuel, had a major police presence as they attempted to maintain order for the 50+ cars attempting to fuel up. The police were only allowing a car into the gas station as another left. The backup from the gas station is what caused the stop and go traffic on the freeway. Once we passed Huntsville, without filling up, we really didn’t have any problems with traffic. We turned off the AC and started to trail a semi, in order to draft off of him in an attempt to save all the fuel we could.

We made it into Houston, not too far behind the standard time of 4 ½ hours. The damage that began in Huntsville continued all along the freeways into Houston. Trees, signs, light poles, everything just torn up. Once in Houston proper, we saw some feeder roads that were flooded out. Very few gas stations were open, very very very few places had power. Those gas stations that were open, had ridiculously long lines and a heavy police presence.

Our house is not damaged, none of the houses within the very short distance we have traveled are damaged, just lots and lots of dead trees and downed power lines. We don't have power, but um, yeah...who does...

1.5 million are without power currently, down from 2.1 million. Gas lines are insane and have police out in force. The stores that are able to open do not have much on the shelves as they cannot restock.

I am quite proud of my city. I continue my love affair with Bill White. I continue to despise Sheila Jackson Lee. Ed Emmett seems to be a cool cat although I cannot understand why judges are constantly helping out with disasters. Is that really their expertise?

Houston is recovering. People are helping their neighbors, we are doing ok here. Say a prayer for those that were stupid enough to stay in their homes in Galveston, Crystal Beach, Surfside, etc. They did not heed the warnings. Did not listen and I hope they survived.

I think though that overall we are doing pretty well. I love this town.

Last Discussion About the Hurricane (Which is Such a Lie.)

I don't mean to drone on and on about the storm. On Twitter, Plurk, here, at work, on various chat boards, yawn!!!

How would ya'll deal with a fucking huge storm on top of your island oasis? You would be pissed. And hope for the best. Optimism! Wee!

Then....add on to that stupid asshole of a storm, a potential that while you are working on getting a tan in potential downpours, that same fucker of a storm hits your hometown. Where your friends, favorite bar, home, job and cats are. All unattended.

I would probably guess that you would develop an ulcer (and then you would name it Tom).

And then you would drink Vodka. And maybe tequila. And if you had red wine, you would drink it, but you don't, so you stick with vodka.

And then you would pack and hope that all those cute little skirts and bathing suits will come in handy.

At this point, due to the insurance industries' strict definition of "uninhabitable" and disregard for "ideal vacations" which is totally not defined within the policy, it appears that we are going to Jamaica, bitches.

Of course, just like the spot where the storm will hit the U.S., that will change in the next update, in the next hour.

Point by Point

1. Texas should not have any open air stadiums. Houston v. Dallas? Houston wins every time. Because we air-condition our stadiums and equip them with retractable roofs, should there be a single day out of the season where it is below 105 degrees and only 92% humidity. Dallas? Dumb. Dumb. Dumb. This is Texas, folks. The annual "Governor's Cup" or whatever it is called, with Houston Texans vs. the Cowboys was this past weekend. At 10 P.M., I was sweating. Football is a cold weather sport. Not a sweating activity. I hate you Texas Stadium. I vote to tear it down.

2. Could anyone out there explain what "wallygosses" are? They are a sort of scary monster to a 3 year old. I have spelled it phonetically, but of course, from a 3 year old, she could be referring to Barney or the Teletubbies.

3. Why did I play a game with a 3 year old where we were breaking out of jail and hiding from the cops. One of us is a bad influence on the other. I am pointing at the kid.

Preparations for the Tropical Storm.

I wanted to post this last night. You know, in case I woke up dead. Or with the power off. Or hung over with no ambition for blogging.

Blogger hates Tropical Storms apparently. Including any freaking out! Respect The Storm!

So, anyhoo, I prepared thoroughly for the Tropical Storm.

I looked through my cupboards. Found granola bars, green beans and Vodka.

I was nervous. I was out of red wine. I seriously considered venturing out for red wine. However, the news was reporting that lines at Wal-Mart reached to the back of the store, I felt that I could do with vodka. I know. I am taking my chances. What if I am unable to get out of the house for days on end. The closest gas station that may sell a really cheap wine or Shiner, which could serve as a substitute, is a full 2 blocks away. TWO BLOCKS!

So, if you don't get another update, send a nice Shiraz. K? Thx.

With plenty of alcohol and canned goods, I then ensured that all outdoor items were secured. Well, items that were under my control and not icky like the trash cans. I pulled all my plants inside.


I would like to bring everyone's attention to 2 things in this picture. Look at how well my plants have recovered from my murder attempts. Second, see the cats. 14 hours later, the damn cats are in the exact same location, eating leaves.

I am off from work today, due to inclamate weather. It sure is clammy weather.

My Boss Thinks I Am Crazy. Again.

I was late to work today.

Not because I slept in or played too long on the computer this morning or because I couldn’t figure out what to wear or because I had a flat tire or because of traffic or because of any other plausible excuse.

I was late to work this morning because on my way into the office, just as I hit the downtown streets, the downtown streets of the fourth largest city in the U.S., at 8 A.M., which is rush hour, in a huge metropolitan city, there was a frigging horse in the road. A HORSE IN THE MIDDLE OF AN INTERSECTION IN DOWNTOWN HOUSTON.

What was a horse doing in the middle of a freaking intersection in the middle of rush hour in Houston?

The Horse was surrounded by large buses and a bazillion cars in the middle of an intersection, because the Ass that was riding it was pulling over someone.

A mounted cop, took his horse into the middle of an intersection, causing traffic to back up onto the freeway, causing people to slam on their brakes in order to avoid hitting a HORSE IN THE MIDDLE OF AN INTERSECTION in order to pull someone over.

I can’t come up with a good reason to pull over someone that involves taking your HORSE INTO THE MIDDLE OF AN INTERSECTION. Can you?

/Rant

Houston Music Fetish

I have been trying for some time to sit down and tell ya’ll about my Sunday. It was a most awesomest Sunday. But then I had the most awesomest Monday, which will or will not be featured another day. Now that it is Tuesday, Kaytabug is bugging me to Plurk and I am being stubborn. I won’t do it until I get this wordy and Youtube intensive research project done. Amen. Word to my Mom.

For many a year now, I have gone to the thingy ma bobber that I went to on Sunday. While out and about, I saw a tee that said 1997, so the event has been going on forev-a. Almost as long as I have been out of high school, which is an eternity. There isn’t a wiki page dedicated to the deal, so I can’t say how long exactly. And, um, could we get a wiki page going, because that is the only place I get my facts. Help a girl out.

Every July, Houston’s “alternative” press paper throws this huge event in downtown. At 17,000 clubs, there are 70 billion different bands playing. You pay a pittance to get into all these venues and see all these bands.

They have every genre imaginable playing at these assorted venues. For the diligent sort, here is a long-azz review of the bands that played this year.

Without further adieu, let’s see who I saw:

At 5 P.M., we started off with Brian’s Johnson (We really did start at 4, but we totally did not like the band that was playing at the venue we selected as a gathering point, so let’s just pretend we were late and started at 5. K? Thx.)

Brian’s Johnson is an ACDC cover band that one person in our entourage had seen the night before and declared them “awesome”. I will say they were good. Not freaking amazing, but strongly good, bordering on great. . . . (youtube search break) . . . Apparently, I will not qualify as an ACDC fan, because it appears that someone in ACDC is named Brian Johnson, hence the name, how clever, Fianna had no clue. Moving on.

I couldn't find a video for your listening pleasure. So here is an ACDC video, imagine other guys up there playing, and fewer people, and you are nearly there.



6 PM – Once it was 6, I was rocking with Mighty Orq. The lead singer, Orq, is freaking awesome. He is a nice guy when a mic isn’t in his face, so he gets extra points. I have seen him many times over the past few years, but the first time I saw him was at the Press Awards years ago, and my ass was shown shaking it on the evening news. The next day, one of the partners came into my office first thing in the morning and asked me about it. Yea. . So yea.

I couldn’t find the song I wanted to link to, but if you work with me a bit, you can hear a small portion of it by going here, and then clicking on Carry Me Home. One of his chillax songs. Not booty shaking. The news didn’t show me while this song was on.

It coulda been this song that introduced my shaking azz to the Houston Lawyer's Association.



The Seven O’Clock special, Fondue Monks, is another repeat that I saw at the Press Awards a while back. We later met the lead singer, “Denver” who was very nice and appreciative and maybe a bit drunk.





8 PM – Skyblue 72 rocked. I saw them for the first time a few months back at my beloved Mucky Duck. When I saw the lineup for the Press Show, I only called this band. I let the others decide on who else we saw as long as I got my Skyblue 72. Girl power, Rwwaarrr.



At 9 P.M., nicely soused, we saw another redo, Lonestar Pornstar. I saw them a couple years ago, and then went to them again the next year and lookie here, they are back again. Awesome band. Awesome way to end the night. Bouncing around to some badass rock.


Their brand of music does not translate well to handheld video cameras or cell phone recordings. I found the following video, but it is totally Milli Vanilli'd.



I hope you guys enjoy a bit of this music. I had a wonderful time seeing some great live acts. If you think I have horrible taste, check out this review of the bands and find somebody better and then come back and tell me about it.

(And let me apologize if this post makes no sense. I know the grammar-ly issue is worse than most of my non-grammar-ious posts. Mama is tired. I have been having lots of fun and my old bones are screaming for sleep.)

Chitty Chitty Bang Bang!

I hope everyone had a wonderful 4^th. I sure did. We live on the edge of downtown. Very close to city center, very close to where the fireworks are shot off. The nation’s largest firework display – in Houston. I figured if we could watch the fireworks from our place, it would be awesome.

You know what is so much more awesomer? Being invited to a new friend’s house that is blocks from the actual launch site of those fireworks where you are at a perfect eye level just above the tree line, you can feel each firework go off, they feel like they are exploding within just a couple feet from your face and you are drinking the best mojitos gay men can make. I heart living downtown.

We will be moving when the lease on this place is up. There have been weeks worth of discussions and internet searching for where we go next. Do we buy? Do we rent? Where? The ultimate consensus after all these talks is that we will continue living down here. No suburbia for our future.

With the move (in 5 months) in mind, my Type A personality has been freaking out about downsizing our crap stock. I closed shop on my Ebay store a month or so ago after dismal sales. I have pulled all my Ebay stuff together and plan on sorting and selling it in lots, most likely to other sellers.

I have gone through my closet pulling things to get rid. I have gone through the cabinets with the same intention. All in all, I have only 2 garbage bags full of stuff to get rid of outside of the Ebay piles.

This really surprises me. However, I have downsized considerably each time I have moved over the past 3 years. I am now at the point where there just isn’t much more to go. I have quit buying unnecessary knick-knacks and I get rid of clothes as I buy more. And if anyone dare chimes in that a Wii and a Roomba are unnecessary, you are off the Christmas card list. Well, you would be if I ever sent Christmas cards.

I am quite pleased with myself that my consumerism ways have been checked. My savings account reflects it and my closets reflect it. One more way, my Frugal McFrugalitis is working in my favor.

How did you spend your long weekend?

My Testimonial

Have I mentioned how difficult New Mexico was? Did I mention how you could try and buy something? You would have money and wish to be parted with it. However, people wouldn’t take it. Be it an hour line at Wal-Mart to unavailability at a doctor’s office until 2011 to a lack of original chicken at KFC. When you left the comfort of your mold-ridden, 1970’s throwback apartment, you (and, of course, I mean me) knew that life was about to be difficult. You were going to have to get angry. And be aggressive. (BE AGGRESSIVE!! BE BE AGGRESSIVE!! Look at my imaginary Herkie!)

You knew you wouldn’t get what you want, when you want it, for the price you wanted it, how you wanted it.

The starkest contrast you can imagine is Mattress Mac.

Jim McIngvale is my hero.

Anyone in the Houston area is now saying ME TOO, ME TOO!

You go to his store. You cannot miss it. There are big signs and lots of lights and it is a huge building.

You walk in, say hi to the 17 people waiting to help you. They offer you a bottle of water. You can shake hands with Mattress Mac himself who is in the store every day despite being a gazillionaire. He answers phones, hands out water bottles, makes store announcements. Despite being 131 years old. (OMG! I just looked it up. He is actually just a year older than my dad. Ok, fine, he isn’t old, but all that crazy jumping in the 80’s TV commercials took their toll. Just saying.)

So..back to the story. You walk in. You are helped immediately. Offered a cold refreshing beverage. And are shown to what you want. Immediately.

There is a chick whose entire job is to walk around the store offering ice cream in a variety of choices. Ice Cream Sandwich? Push Pop? What is your poison? Can you imagine what an amazing job this is? I want her job.

When I was shown this apartment, I, for reals, stood in the stairway that leads into it, and held my hands at my hips and measured how much weight I could gain before I wouldn’t fit up the stairs. It isn’t much.

The stairway…is a problem.

We informed our furniture sales guru about our stairway and the lack of inch-age. He laughed. And we told him we were serious. And he may have frowned. But then…he showed us a couch. And another and another and another and 27 others.

And they would fit. Yes they would!

So we bought some furniture. A lot actually.

We tried to buy a couch in Dallas last year. We really wanted to buy one. We offered cash. We offered extended credit terms. We offered first borns. We wanted to give them a couple grand, but there was no way they would give us a couch without making us wait 3 weeks. We couldn’t buy a floor model. We were told to wait 3 weeks. No other choice. No couches to be had on the same day. They refused to take our money and give us what we wanted.

Gallery Furniture? They have billboards everywhere in Houston simply with the word Today.

Today? Today, you say?

If you buy before 10 P.M., you get your couch that day.

We left Gallery at 6 P.M. We went home. Cleaned up the place. Moved the camping chairs out of the way. And a few hours later, a knock on the door.

Professional, well-spoken, furniture delivery men dropped off all the furniture that we had bought just a couple hours earlier. They set everything up super quick. And disappeared like bandits.

This is what happened.

Begin Story:

We bought furniture. It was delivered a couple hours later.

End Story.

Mattress Mac is freaking genius. He offers quality products at a good price. He makes you comfortable in his store. His salespeople are professional, well-spoken, not pushy. He delivers the stuff you bought when you want it. He doesn’t make you wait if you need it right away. He will hold it if you aren’t ready.

He makes the entire buying process simple.

I wish more businesses followed such a simple business model. It really is amazing that I am blown away by his business.

Why is it so unique?

Give the customers what they want. They will come back for more. They will tell their friends and family. They will write blog posts about it.

It truly blows my mind that I am so blown away by this type of service.

Is it really that extraordinary? Why?

You give people what they want, in a friendly manner. The end.

So, tell me about your life? What customer service blew you away? What crappy service made you want to go psycho?

And Jag, if you are still alive, could you find some of the old school footage of Save You Money videos. I think Mac may have put a hit out on whoever had those. They are nowhere to be found on Youtube. This is the best compilation I could find with footage of the jumping.

Why Are The Scots So Bitchy?

Whew. Moving sucks big goat balls. I am tired, tired, and more tired. I am pissy and grouchy and altogether unpleasant to be around. My Our house is a mess.

How quickly gratitude can disappear. How quickly your gleeful attitude turns to irritation. Rudeness. Grumpy McGrumpyness.

Mere days is all it takes to move from being just blown over by how well life is to being a snippy little bitch. Hey, babe….umm…sorry.

I have discussed before the irritation of dealing with small town New Mexico.

My decision to start an import/export business during my “brief” trip to Houston.

Every birthday should end in fast food, tears and vodka shooters.

Monkeys, lower evolutionary development, fucking retarded idiots – semantics – New Mexico has them all baby.

1,001 Reasons to Sue Your Apartment Complex.

There are things that I haven’t written about…my fights with 2 different doctors’ office. The resultant collection attempt that is marring my perfect credit score. My love’s dealings with things that I probably shouldn’t refer to because this is my blog and not his, and my career and not his. Have you seen the movie, The Hills Have Eyes? I wholly believe it was taped in Oil Field, New Mexico. And is a true story. ‘Nuff Said. Word to your mother.

(HAHAHAHA!!! After intense fact-checking because this is a quality blog, well written, researched, and factually accurate – the movie DOES take place in NM. There, Bitches.

So…this is what we were faced with. I flew in Sunday, needed to be moved back across Texas asap so I could return to the Great Law Office in the Sky and draft more TPS reports. We needed to get a U-haul, a trailer, a rebuilt transmission, boxes, return the cable box, pack, clean and get a seal of approval on the clean apartment.

The sheer terror that rose over me thinking of the difficulties we would face when working on this move….

I couldn’t get a piece of fried chicken in this town without a fight. It is simply impossible, (under normal city standards), to do anything in this small town.

I would like a hamburger, no onions or tomatoes, add bacon. HUH! WTH. We don’t have no bacon burger. Well, could you add bacon to a hamburger? NO. We ain’t got no bacon on a burger. Do you have bacon? Yea. Can you place it on top of a burger? NO. I done told you no. We don’t do those high-falutin burger deals here, lady. See. Impossible. You want something. You can’t have it. Welcome to New Mexico.

So…we set out with great trepidation on Monday. We obtained a U-haul, the exact trailer we needed and sufficient boxes in less than an hour. Perfect. Ecstatic exclamations may have been heard.

We then had to obtain a vehicle that was in a shop. A rebuilt transmission. Work that was originally quoted to take a week. We wanted it done over a weekend, ready Monday afternoon. They agreed. We did not truly believe them. We had lived in the area long enough to know the difficulties that arise from needing things from other people. Be it toothpaste from Wal-Mart, a burger from Burger King, a tire rotation at a tire rotation place. Not Easy. Staples has an easy button. These are not advertised at the local Staples. It would be false advertising and I would sue.

The truck was ready when quoted. For the low end of the quote. We passed out. Woke up. Drove the truck home. And it worked. The tranny didn’t fall out. We made it back to Oil Field in one piece. Life was looking up.

I do believe that when things are right, when things are meant to happen, it is clockwork. Greased wheels, however you want to describe it. In a Land of You Cannot Have It How You Want It Because We Said So, we were given everything exactly the way that we wanted, in normal world time, without hassle. In a year of living in this area, this has never before happened. It was unnatural. Supernatural, Yes, Joel Osteen, we were living in the Supernatural.

Life was wonderful. Life is wonderful.

We got all the moving accoutrements in place. We boxed and moved and got rid of a bunch of crap to the bestest home in the entire world.

We drove and drove and drove.

We then hired people to carry all our crap up the 89 stairs that lead to our place. It took them 63 minutes. It would have taken us 6.3 days.

The worst thing we could think of that happened during this blessed week was that my sandwich at McDonald’s was kinda gross. The very worst thing. Hmmm….aren’t we amazingly fortunate.

However, then I have to go and get all involved. I have to “feel” a certain way. I have to get tired and bitchy and cranky. I have a dirty house, boxes everywhere. I am exhausted. And people at work talk to me. I hate when people talk to me. Quit talking to me!!!

And so I get all bitchy with my love. And Cranky McCranksterston hit town and was mean.

My dear, I apologize for being a Fussy McFussy Pants. And for talking all Meany McMeanster.

Forgive me please.

I will make Popcorn shrimp for dinner.

Taxi!

The call came.

I gathered my things, peeked out the window and saw nothing.

I turned off all the lights, double-checked to make sure the coffee pot was turned off. Turned off the A/C.

I tucked my coat under my arm, despite the 75 degree temps.

I stepped outside, looked left, looked right and there it was.

I do not remember a time when I felt so happy.

Taking a cab to the airport was a first for me. I have always had friends or family drop me off. Or I left my car in the parking garage.

This time however, I was being driven. However, the excitement wasn't for the cab ride, it was the purpose of the ride.

I was being driven to the airport where I would board a plane to a place where the coat was necessary.

To a place where I would box up all the remnants of our life in the Desert.

Where we would drive away from the Desert, for the last time, Together.

To our new home, in my our little apartment in Houston.

My Commute

When I moved to this area, my commute was foremost on my mind.

I work smack dab in the middle of Houston. I work the standard 8-5 and must deal with ridiculous rush hour traffic.

So when I decided where to stay, the length of my commute was extremely important. And I pay for it.

Yet, I never was told by the realtor that my commute would go through South Dakota.



The skyline sure looks like Houston.

These guys seem a bit out of place though.

Stage Left

Scene: Bustling law office, 3 P.M., our heroine is suited in a demure white sweater and grey slacks that are just a tad tight due to several days of extra helpings of General Tso’s chicken. She is busily typing an email to her friend about how she wished the day was over already and is thinking about Chinese for dinner.

(Insert ringing of cell phone)

Heroine: “Hi Landlord! How are you doing?”

Landlord: “Well, pretty good. Took a vacation day today. You have a washer and dryer now. However, remember how you couldn’t get the stove to start and I thought it was because you were an idiot? Well, it appears that you aren’t a complete idiot, it appears that the gas company shut off the gas.”

Heroine: “I told you I graduated 5th in my class! Someone with those kinds of brains can surely figure out how to turn on a gas stove. I will call the gas company and find out what is wrong.”

(Muted tones wherein Heroine and Gas Company discuss how the gas company screwed up, they apologize and will get someone right out to fix their error and Ms. Heroine should have a nice day.)

(Cut to new apartment. Apartment has limited furnishings. No cable, no internet, no couch, an air mattress. Requiring our Heroine to hunch over her only real furniture, a kitchen table, completing Sudoko puzzles and listening to an audio book.)

Time: 10:00 PM

Heroine: “Hi Gas Company. I have been waiting here for 4 hours. It is a Friday night. I am becoming a hunchback, although my analytical skills are surely improving due to the 26 Sudoko puzzles I have completed. However, I am curious if I will have gas tonight?

Gas Company: (Evil maniacal laughter) We show up when we want. You must wait for us, you stupid peon.”

Heroine: “This is your fault, however. You unilaterally shut off my service, whereas there was no logical reason to do so as heretofore my service was appropriate. Therefore, I would appreciate some candor as to the reasoning on the inappropriateness of cutting my gas. (Smile smugly due to use of big law firm words.)

Gas Company: “Yo, bitch, shut up. We do whatever the hell we want. You want gas? Shut up. I is putting you on hold.”

3 minutes pass.

Heroine: “Hmm…he sure told me.”

4 more minutes pass.

Heroine: “Should I interject that I work at a law firm?”

2 minutes pass.

Heroine: “Should I call Marvin Zindler? Dammit, he is dead. Maybe Wayne Dolcefino? Angelina Jolie? Larry the Cable Guy?”

2 more minutes pass.

Heroine hangs up. And hangs her head.

(10:30 PM. Insert ringing cell phone.)

Heroine: “Hello?”

Heroine’s Friend: “Are you still there? What if the gas dude is a maniacal serial killer? Do you have pepper spray? A Tazer? How about some nunchuks?”

Heroine: “Dude. Chill. You are freaking me out. I only have a knife. But if it will make you feel better, I will keep knives stashed in convenient locations so if this gas dude gets fresh, I can stab his ass.

Friend: “Good, use an upward angle, and when it is in, pull up really hard.”

Heroine: “You are fucking crazy. And you are scaring me. Goodbye.”

(Heroine dials a number on her cell phone.)

Heroine: “Hello? Gas Company? I have been told that ya’ll show up anywhere until midnight? Is that correct?

Gas Company: “Bitch, I told you we show up whenever the fuck we want. What are you bugging about?”

Heroine: “Well, I am a bit concerned for my own safety (Runs finger along knife edge.) as well as the safety of the technician. I don't know my neighbors, but wasn’t the Joe Horn incident just up the freeway and through the woods?”

Gas Company: Yo. Our technicians are ninjas. No one messes with them. They will be there when they want to be there. Quit calling.”

Heroine cries. And goes back to her hotel. Dejected and without gas. She then proceeds to fart all night long from the General Tso chicken and is struck by the irony.

Cotton Gin Blossoms

I have a place to live in Houston. A place that is not a hotel. A place where my cats won't bite me every 2 minutes because they have explored every inch of the hotel room and there isn't anything new to sniff or claw at.

I drove to New Mexico last week to pick up some of my belongings, returning Monday. Monday was the day that Texas decided to get all weather-y and drop down to the 30's, threaten ice and drizzle all day long. Except for Houston. Of course, damn you, Houston.

I am now living on the 3rd floor. I am sure once I am moved in and have buns of steel, this will not bother me. However, going up 2 flights of stairs with a truckload of stupid knick knacks and a few boxes of pots and pans, sucks. Of course, I was miserable loading the truck in Almost West Texas, 30 degrees, drizzle, freaking way too cold for my delicate soul. Then, 10 hours later, I am sweating my ass off from just lowering the tailgate. Houston was 75 degrees, 200% percent humidity. I have lived in Texas long enough. I should expect this.

I really wanted to take some photos for you, folks. Of cotton picking season, which I have no idea why it fascinates me so. It is so damn involved, lots of different steps, lots of stages, field after field of cotton, all in various stages of de-linting. I wanted to take photos of the 80 mph signs in Far West Texas, because I had no idea any place in the U.S. allowed such a speed. I could go 90 and not fear the po-po. What an awesome thing. I wanted to take a photo of the exit for Allison Road because I heart the Gin Blossoms. I wanted to take a photo of Buc-ee's sign that says something about never seeing a beaver before. And that the Beaver Has Gas.

I couldn't take these photos because with this weird ass cold front that headed across the state the day I decided to move this year, it was foggy. Extremely foggy, extremely drizzly, extremely crappy weather to drive 10 hours in.

So my plans went to shit. Not that that is new. My plans for the last couple of months have gone to shit. Who would have guessed that for the foreseeable future, instead of my own bed, instead of a hotel bed, I would be sleeping on an air mattress? Who would have guessed this is how December would turn out or how 2007 would end.

{Insert words of wisdom and learning how strong you are and how you can make a bad ass meatloaf here.}

And Titillating is Spelled Wrong

I completely forgot about this prior to Halloween. Due to my own little drama, I did not share this timely. Forgive me please!!

Houston, the nation’s strip club capital, you make me proud once again.