Moving On Out

I am surprisingly calm, and I think I'm prepared. Of course what I would consider organized and what the Chief (Navy Dad) would consider organized may vary slightly. But I have boxed up the kitchen, and packed all my clothes & goodies and even sent 3 bags of stuff to the goodwill.

My sister told me today that her and mom were discussing my haphazard packing method. Unlike my sister, who has special labels and sharpies, and a tape gun for her moves (she even labeled all her things for a move within the same apartment building - she's a moving over-achiever.), I'm more of a toss-in-a-box-and seal-it-up kind of packer. So when I open up my "kitchen" box, its contents might include:

3 bowls
4 mugs
4 plates
Oven mits
Lip balm
My hydro Bill
Some cuticle cream
Mittens
A CD Case (no idea where the actual CD is)
Some cat toys

Anyway you get the picture. And to my sister - I say SO WHAT! So what if I have to keep moving around the apartment to put things away. I need my exercise. Plus its like a surprise in every box! Like Christmas, Or my birthday. And while I'll admit that my hairbrush has no place in the box with my silverware, At least I'll notice it when I'm unpacking it right?

And so tomorrow is the big moving day. Navy Dad and mom are coming to help. Plus some others, so hopefully it will go fast, and with little tears (from me - when Navy Dad yells at me for being a disorganized mess). Nah - It'll be FINE. A couple of hours - And I'll be finding a new home for all my junk.

night y'all. I'm off to have dreams of plastic totes and bubble wrap....
T-out.

Its a Black Sabbath day...

One of the weirdest things a man has ever said to me:

"You look like Ozzy"
"huh?"
"Ozzy Osborne, you look like Ozzy"

I ask you, what does one say to that? I look like a twitchy aging metal-head?

People of the world - please join me in cursing the drunk-ass MOFO who had the nerve to say something so vile. Stone him if you want. Pull out his fingernails one by one and stick him in a room and force him to listen to the Clay Aiken CD all night. Because I'm blonde, I'm cute and dammit, I'm A GIRL. And truth be told, I looked friggin hot last night.

SAY IT AIN'T SO

OLD PEOPLE still on Amazing Race. It was all I could do last night, not to stick my head in the oven. The annoyingness of it all is overwhelming.

You can call me Tracy or....

Perhaps you'd like to address me by:
My Stripper name: Butterfly
My Porn Star Name: Busty de Lusty
My Hippie Name: Magnolia
My Irish Name: Aishling O'Farrell
My Japanese Name: Umeko Hayashi
My Rejected Crayon Name: Spank Me Pink
or
My Hip Hop Name: T-Slo

If you are one of those people who talk to my chest while pretending to have a conversation with my face, perhaps if I told you my boobies names, you'd feel less bad about staring at them: Their names are Dinner and Dessert. They like long walks in the park and Ocean breezes thank you very much. When heading down South, its Love Muffin if you please.

I'm only 40% normal (no surprise there), I'm a Russian at Heart. I should have been born in January and my 80s theme song is Push It by Salt n- Peppa.

This distraction brought to you by www.blogthings.com. (Thanks Bente!)

T-Slo Out.

I love Spring...honest.

Its days like to today that can sometimes get me down about being a single gal. It is a gorgeous gorgeous gorgeous day outside. The sun is shining, the birds are chirping and its finally Spring! And days like today are the perfect opportunity to go for a lovely walk. But it can be so BORING by yourself. There is a beautiful park, with trails winding around the bay, that is perfect for a nice long walk. There are happy couples strolling hand in hand, moms and dads laughing as their little ones frolic in the grass, sporty people doing their rollerblading, people walking their dogs and everyone smiling. And hey, I know that sometimes going for a walk by yourself is absolutely lovely. But it would be nice to have the option of sharing your walk or not. I can get all gung-ho about going for a walk and end up walking to the convenience store, buying a diet coke and coming home because I feel bored at the prospect of a lonely walk.

But I should consider the alternative. I could, for instance, be a Vampire. There would definitely be no sunny day walks, AND I'm pretty sure it would be hard to get dates.

T.
PS. I'm heading out the door, to go for a walk. I'll likely be back in five minutes, but I am determined to enjoy the Spring.

Under Wear?

Picture this if you will:

I head off to the small gym in my office building afterwork with a co-worker, H. Its really small, there is only one of each machine, but there is never anyone there afterwork cause I think most people go before or at lunch. There are two change rooms, one ladies, one mens each with a shower. But no bathroom. For that you have to go out and down the hall. Along the wall are 2 rows of lockers, which aren't really lockers, but more like cabinets. They have keyholes, and there is one or two that are locked there, but for the most part, they are there for you to hang up your stuff while you work out. I know you don't care, I'm just getting you set up, so you can fully envision the scene. Okay. So H and I head to the lockers to hang up our coats & purses etc. I open locker #9. Its in the middle, I always open this one. I don't know why, its just habit. Keep in mind that we are alone at the gym. There are clothes in it. UGH, I think. That sucks and smells. BUT WAIT! Are those underwear hanging in there? Dirty man tighty whitey underpants just hanging there, reeking of icky I-just-worked-out-hard- and -the- sweat- pooled -in-my- nether- regions man smell. It was not pretty. And it was just hanging there in a locker, with no lock, in an empty gym, in an office building, inhabited by women, who may want to use the gym, and in fact use the gym often, and most definitely do NOT want to see dirty smelly underwear hanging in locker #9.

So now I am left wondering what did the guy wear OUT of the gym? Did he go commando? Did he have a clean pair? Are those his workout underwear? Does he just wear them to workout? If so, doesn't he wash them in between wearing? And if he does wash them after wearing them, why did he leave there? And part of me really wants to know who it is, so H and I can chastise him, and perhaps leave nasty notes on his car, but part of me is thinking not knowing might be better. I mean, what if he's cute? What if he's my soul mate? What if leaving stinky underwear in the locker is his ONLY flaw. I would hate to lose out on my summer romance guy* because of that....But then again, what if I didn't know, and then if we did fall in love and moved into together and I find out that he regularly leaves his dirty underwear lying around ? Or has even grosser bad habits. What then? So perhaps I should just call off going to the gym altogether.

Okay, upon reflection I think I may have overreacted, not about the underwear, no, that is just plain vile. But about the gym thing. I need to go to the gym, so I will keep going, but I will never again open locker #9. And to any co-workers who read this an go to the gym downstairs, I advise you not to use that locker. (And well if you are that stinky underwear person, I advise you to not be so disgusting).

Thats all folks.
T- out

*I went to a tarot card reading in Feb and Psychic Joan told me I was going to have a summer romance.

And on the 12th day...

I finally sign a lease for new apartment! Whew. I was starting to get worried there. I always do this to myself though, leave things to the last minute. I put in my notice to my current landlord 60 days ahead, but I leave the actual searching for a new place until now. Stupido!

Of course part of the problem is that I can't afford the apartment I REALLY want, so I was getting all discouraged when I'm hoping for a jacuzzi tub and a sunken living room, and all I see is a beaten up tile floor and a 30-year old tub. But the place I settled on isn't that bad. It has a nice little balcony, a good size living room and its on a quiet street. Some people love looking for new apartments, I hate it. I find that you have to make a decision so fast on whether you want it or not, and its so much pressure. I picked my current apartment from the 2 minute tour I had, and when I moved in, I found out it didn't have any closets. Yuck. So my vacuum sits in my living room and my junk is all out in the open. One time, a friend and I rented an apartment that had no kitchen drawers. Have you ever heard of such a thing? Where does one put their silverware? Its so something you don't check or don't notice. But you live and you learn. This place has closets AND kitchen drawers. I know. I checked. I looked at so many places though, so hopefully the one I signed the lease for, is the one I remember. That would suck eh? Also I just HAD to pick this one, cause the landlords are Russian, and say my name like this "Trraacing, you sign lease and pay rent, okay?" I love it. (well except when I was asking a question about when I could move in and the husband just nodded and said yes... ).um Okay.

Anyway, I'm sure I'll get in there on time. Now all I have to do is start packing. If I could snap my fingers and it could magically be done like Mary Poppins or something, I'd be REALLY FRIGGIN HAPPY! And then I'd start snapping my fingers like crazy to see if I could make other things happen. Like making bags of money appear, or making my ass disappear. I would hate for my magic abilities to be wasted on packing you know?. But those of you who know me, know there won't be no packin gettin' done till the eleventh hour. And I'll be complaining the whole time. And to those of you who get late night calls about how I hate doing this shit, I sincerely apologize in advance. But don't you think about screening your calls! I'll get you, and I'll make it look like an accident.

Cheers
T.

When I was your age.....

Not too much going on in my world these days. But there is a very important question that has been weighing heavy on my mind:

Why are the old people still on Amazing Race?
Call me ageist if you must, but they are driving me bonkers. The little old lady fell last week on her face and had to get stitches, so its all scabby. And she's got a whiney voice that is grating on my last nerve. The little old man, looks all wrinkly in his tank top, no one wants to see your white chest hair, for godsake, put a shirt on. And they keep screwing up, yet they keep making it to the finish line just in time so as not to get eliminated, and then they have to TALK about how they are older than everyone else and overcoming obstacles and blahdy blah blah. I can't tell you how much I was praying that their hummer would get trampled by an elephant last night. They are actually surprised that the race is hard. It's a RACE! Do you see 68 year olds doing potato sac races against the 25 year olds at the town fair? No you don't. And why is that? Cause normal old people realize that in a race, they won't win, or worse they could hurt themselves. At the beginning of the Amazing Race when the people are explaining why they think will win, the old people ALWAYS say that even if they don't have strength on their side, they have wisdom and experience... But they 'forgot' the memory loss and boringness. Old people on reality shows want to make their kids and their grandkids proud, so they don't backstab, or cheat, lie, or try and run another team off the road. They are just plain boring, or they can't remember that there is a million dollar prize at then end. Either way. UGH.

I hate the oldies this season, I hated them last season too. Its like they have to put in the token old couple, just like they put in the token gay couple. But the token gay couple is always so much better, for one thing, they are funny and they are young and don't say things like, 'We're so much gayer than everyone and look how far we've come'. Please, put the old couple out of their (and my) misery.

Whew. It had to be said. For the record, I don't dislike old people in general (except when old people refer to each other as 'Mother' and 'Father' ), just those who choose to participate in reality shows. Enough already!

T.

When Freaks go shopping.

I am SHORT. Of course I realize this. I have always had these really short legs. My pants always have to be hemmed. But I did not know that I had freakishly short arms. Obviously my arms are not long, seeing as I am short, but not (I don't think) disproportionately so. So I am at a store today, trying on a cute little green cardigan with 3/4 length sleeves. And surprise, its too Long. But here's the kicker, its not too long as a 3/4 length sleeve, NO. Its too long as a FULL length sleeve. WTF? I march over to the sales clerk, and ask her if they are mislabeled, perhaps they are full sleeves afterall. She replies " Like, they ARE supposed to be 3/4 sleeves, I see they aren't on YOU.", then turns on her heel and walks away, probably to tell all the other sales people about the freak she just met. Um Thanks, I'll just take my little arms stumps and leave then, your cardigans weren't that cute anyway. I silently curse my parents.

T.