Best of Richmond, in my humble opinion...

Style Weekly put out their "Best of Richmond" issue last week. I don't think there was a single category that I agreed with. Nevermind that it was their "biggest reader survey" ever, it was out of touch or maybe the majority of their readers don't live within the city limits of Richmond. The "Richmond Metro Area" is not Richmond. Much like the "DC Metro Area" is not DC. And, if it's not apparent from everything I have ever posted ever, I hate the suburbs. I may be a product of the Northern Virginia sprawl, but I in no way endorse it - meaning, I could not care less about the opinions of non-city dwellers regarding the "best of" anything within city limits.

I also think that there were far too many categories, so I've made my own list based on me spending way too much money and going out way too much.


Best Venue: Alley Katz
This is based solely on the space and not on the names the venue attracts. It's big enough, but maintains an intimate feel. The staff is friendly, the drinks are cheap and the soundsystem is great.


Best Sushi: Akida
Sure, they don't have tater tots, but those aren't Japanese, so why would they? For someone looking for authentic sushi and sashimi, this is the place to go. The space is small, rarely loud and great for a first date or taking a friend from out of town.


Best Cafe/Coffeeshop/Place to use the internet for free: Lamplighter
It's not just for hipsters, it's become the neighborhood hangout. I cannot go there without running into at least three people I know, and like. They have never once messed up my order, and everything I've tried on the menu is delicious and reasonably priced. The vegan and vegetarian options make this place great for everyone. The staff is friendly and patient, even during their busiest hours. Though, I recommend ordering ahead if you want a TLT&A during their lunch rush. They cook in order the orders are placed, and it'll be ready when you get there.


Best Museum: The Children's Museum
Sure, the VMFA has the Picasso exhibit, but have you ever taken your small relative to the Children's Museum? I have just as much fun as they do pretending to drive the ambulance, digging for dinosaur bones and making crafts. (Related: I am a huge dork.) I've never tried to go without a small relative, that probably wouldn't be welcomed by museum staff or parents, but it would still be fun. My nephew's favorite exhibit is the Newsroom.


Best Place for Karaoke: New York Deli
The crowd is different every week, and spands well  beyond the regulars. The talent is unexpected and those performing are unassuming. I don't love the DJ, I think he talks too much and has terrible hair, but that's neither here nor there. (But seriously, dude, you should cut that ponytail off.)


Best Brunch: Lulu's
Have you had the Red Velvet Waffle? No? You are missing out. Though, perhaps you prefer a savory brunch over a sweet one, in which case their menu is perfect for you. Omlettes, fritattas, meat, it's all there. I like to go with a friend and split the RVW and the Greek fritatta. Though, it fills up fast, so go with a small group or with a couple people and sit at the bar.


Best Restaurant: Water Grill
I like seafood and I like patios and I reallyreally like seafood. Nevermind the great service or ambiance or it being conveniently located down the street from Bev's and The Byrd, get me some scallops!


Best Bar: Ehhh, this is a toss up. I can't decide between Bamboo or The Whisky.

Bamboo: It's always full of townies and the food is fairly high-end for a bar. For late night snacking I like to get the fried eggplant appetizer. I also like that all the staff has a constant smirk on their faces.

The Whisky: They serve their entire menu until last call. All of it. And from open to 3 pm, they offer a 25% discount to anyone who lives or works in The Fan and on rainy days ask for the "rainy day discount." They offer plenty of vegetarian and gluten free options. Don't ask for your regular drink, tell the bartender what you like and have them recommend something new - you will like it, promise. Try the green bean fries.

Best Place for Finding single men with jobs and cars for your friends who don't go out much: The Rebublic
Seriously, it works. Every single time.


Sure, there are other places to go, but most other categories seem irrelevant as Richmond isn't large enough to really support multiples of things. And besides all be do is go to shows, karaoke and drink anyway.

Dodge City

The more I talk to people in Richmond, the more I want to pack up my car and drive away. I don't hate Richmond. I used to, but I've come to be content here. Content is a dirty word though, it's one step up from settling. I have no intention on settling for anything because it's comfortable or easy. Richmond is comfortable, and cheap, and yeah, easy.

I left Northern Virginia for a reason. In the past few weeks I have run into more people from my home town than I do when I'm home. I'm not into it. I didn't like them there, and I certainly don't like them here.

When I talk to people that grew up here, went to college elsewhere and then came back, I just don't get it. Perhaps I'm not southern enough, or not easily satisfied, but I have no desire to stay in one place. I grew up in the same house for the first eighteen years of my life and was never the new person. Richmond hasn't been much different. People are content to stay here forever, I just can't do it.

I know people my age that live with their parents because they're saving up to buy a house, which I guess is great for them? The only purpose I see for owning property is to eventually fill it with a family, and that freaks me out. That's just where my head goes, house equates "would be happy to make babies and stay here forever." I understand that "rent is a waste of money blahblahblah..." but is it? Having a house comes with it's own problems.

I get to live in a shoebox and have people clean the foyer for me and I don't have a yard to mow or maintain, and when something breaks, I don't have to pay someone to fix it. It's a pretty sweet deal. And I can buy my way out of me lease whenever, or ride it out, and leave and not have to deal with finding tenants to rent to or someone to buy it. Ideally I'd like to move every three to four years from now until I get knocked up or resign myself to being a spinster - which, by the way, does not sound that bad.

That's another thing about Richmond. Everyone here seems to knock up or get knocked up between 27 and 34 and then they're stuck. Sure, kids are great, I like most, but when there's another parent involved you can't exactly get up and go. All of this is to say, nothing scares me more than the idea of doing exactly what I'm doing now in two to five years from now or beyond.

It's so easy. It would be so easy, but I would regret it and then drink myself into a stupor and try to convince myself that this is the life that I wanted. It's not. Not now, not ever. Complacency to me, would be giving up. I hope to always be yearing for something more.

Richmond Drivers

I'm not sure how your car pertains to a higher being.

I love driving, on highways and parkways and expressways and toll roads and any other place that doesn't have stop lights and stop signs. I am great at driving in those places. I have a tiny car that's relatively low to the ground. It's only a four-cylinder, thankfully. If I had anything with a larger engine I'm sure I would have had my license suspended by now. I like speeding, not because I'm in a hurry, but because I like getting wherever I'm going as fast as possible. I drive as though I have to pee really badly, all the time.

This type of driving doesn't really work in Richmond. People here are not in a hurry to get anywhere, ever. They take their time. They're okay with not honking at people who take more than ten seconds to go at a green light. They also don't mind going ten under the speed limit on heavily trafficed roads. I don't understand it, I'm anxious to get where I'm going, whether it's the grocery store, to meet friends, to get to DC - it doesn't matter. This also applies to drives I take on late nights to nowhere, it's nice to move as fast as my mind is moving sometimes.

While discussing our upcoming trip to Savannah, my friend says to me, "It's supposed to take what eight hours to get there? So, that means you'll have us there in six."

I grew up in Northern Virginia. I know traffic. I know my way around it. And I know like 92473 ways to get wherever I need to go. I have no concept of what a mile is, but I can tell you how long it will take to get somewhere. Since moving to Richmond I don't like driving anywhere that takes more than fifteen minutes to drive to (unless it's another city's limits). If it takes more than fifteen minutes to get to, it's probably not worth going to anyway, i.e. the suburbs.

These are my issues with Richmond drivers:

1. Signals

Every car made ever has two of them. They work when you push a lever up or down. They allow people around you to anticipate your turn. It's a courtesy to those around you, prevents accidents, and when both are flashing they let people know that they should go around you. Anyway, they're really great, and I highly recommend using them.

Though, they can be used improperly, like when you need to change lanes and you do so, but you forget to turn your signal off after your move and proceed to irritate everyone around you. Stop it.

2. Speed Limits

No one in Richmond seems to be aware of what they mean or how they work. Sure, you're not supposed to go faster than they say, but you're also not supposed to got ten under the speed limit. I get it, if you do this you're probably really stupid and not sure where you are (get a GPS) and aren't stopping for directions, or you're really old. I don't care, just think of all the people that have to pee and get out of their way.

3. Abrupt Stops

Oh! Hi! I see that you're a chick my age and apparently a terrible driver. You've stopped in the middle of a main street, cool. You're picking up your friend? They're taking forever? I know how that goes. I also know that you have a button on your dashboard with a little red triangle on it, you should push it. See what happens. Oh, crazy, it turns both your signals on. Thanks! Now I know to drive around you when the other lane is clear. That was like so easy.

4. Parallel Parking

Richmond has shit public transportation. The buses are undependable, and...oh wait, there is no other form of public transportation, so we drive everywhere. That's fine, but we live in a city and there are a lot of us. You don't need six feet between you and the other cars to pull out properly. Really. You are part of the parking problem. Don't complain about not being able to not find a spot if you typically take up two.

If you don't live in the city and aren't accustomed to parallel parking, please stay in the suburbs with your giant car. We live here, and we park on the street and you're wasting space.

5. Cobblestone

There is a particular stretch of cobblestone called "Shockoe Slip." I have to drive down it every day on my way home. The speed limit is still 25 MPH there, and it is still two lanes. I promise.

6. Lanes

These are conveniently marked in contrasting white or yellow on the black asphalt. In most areas there are two lanes. Pick one! Stay in it. And if for some reason you need to change lanes, use your signal!

7. One-Way streets

I get it, you're drunk. We all are. I assume that you know how to read arrows. Follow them.

8. Trucks/SUVs/Other giant vehicles

You (I'm assuming) live in the city. Why would you need a giant car? Do you transport things frequently? If you do, it's probably a company car, in which case there's probably a company lot you can leave it in. Do that.

9. Magnets

Your car is covered in them. They support some really noble cause, I'm sure. But you're not really raising awareness, you're saying, "Hi, I feel the need to advertise everything I'm associated with in public, all the time." We don't care. And I will remove them from your car when I'm drunk. You are welcome.

10. Vanity Plates!

Virginia has an inordinate amount of these because they're really cheap here. Cheap also sometimes (most of the time) implies tacky. It's great that you're "OPNYN8D" or "AWWWSUM" - we all feel this way about ourselves, but the rest of us let other people find out in a personal, less public way.

Making Out With Strangers

When I drink, there are three things that I really like: lipstick, speaking in a British (awful) accent and making out with strangers (or friends).

1. Stephane

Last week I got a call from a number I didn't recognize and they didn't text or leave a voicemail, so I didn't think anything of it. Then they called again a couple days later. I texted back to see who it was. The poor boy, he was a stranger that I kissed right after the part where I kissed my friend and drove uptown two weekends ago.

This boy's name is Stephane. He's a beautiful French-African dude. I know this because he sent me his picture, which I will now use to avoid him just in case I happen to be at that bar on a Saturday night ever again. That was a fluke though. That is still the only weekend I have ever gone out to the bars on my block. I intend to keep it that way.

So Stephane keeps texting me and wants to hang out. I did make plans that I was happily able to break this past Tuesday, I would feel bad about it, but...oh, no there are no reasons to feel bad about it.

2. Daniel

This past Sunday a couple of friends of mine came down from DC to see another friend's band play here, coincidentally at the same bar I made out with Stephane in. Anyway, my friends were kind enough to buy me several shots of whiskey, among other things.

After our friend's set was over we walked to the bar that I live above and continued the party there, where I met Daniel.

I'm sure he's a lovely fellow, really, but he called me the next day. Before noon. Even if I get up before noon, there are few circumstances when I will answer my phone before then. Anyway, my friend passed me my phone and told me it was "Daniel" - I had programmed his number into my phone this time. Progress!

He first commented on how I wasn't actually British. Nope. Not a lick. I'm from Drunk.

Then he continued to text me incesssantly with emoticons and improper grammar. Neither of those are preferred qualities.

3. Evan

This past Tuesday I went to a party followed by dinner, followed by filling out an application at a bar (I'm not really sure how that happened, but please call me back!) and then karaoke. All of it was "fantastic." I used that word almost all of my tweets that night, and can only imagine that I said it, in my British accent, even more.

It was at the karaoke joint that I made out with and exchanged numbers with Evan, who after a text the next day, has a girlfriend. Sorry, Girlfriend, 1) for making out with your boyfriend and 2) that you're dating a dude who makes out with other people, unless you're into that, then great for you!


The lesson learned here is that boys are silly, and don't understand that a girl really can just kiss you and absolutely not ever want to hear from you again, but give you her card to be polite.

P.S. Related, if someone gives me their card, I always email first, as should you, though if someone is giving you their card and not just their number, they are probably okay with never seeing you again and just being polite.

99: (No) Pants Dance Party

Chris Owens is a local photographer who has a project called "100 Portraits 100 Days." Last week he needed a salon to use for a set for one of his shoots (portrait 98) and through Twitter I was asked if he could use the salon where I work. I got the okay from my boss and we were set.

I was familiar with the project, I know several of the people he has photographed and did hair for one of the shoots. Each portrait captures a specific characteristic or cause of the subject. When he was done with the shoot at my shop I asked him about his last two subjects and how he picked them. He explained that he had approached people to take part in the project, but as it grew others approached him. He didn't have anyone officially set up for the last two, so I asked him if I could be a part of it.


On Twitter I frequently use the hashtags #nopantsparty and #nopantsdanceparty. Chris liked the concept and we shot it in my apartment this past Monday. 


I put on a decent mix, but he asked me for a larger range of motion, so I turned on Florence and the Machine's 'Dog Days' - a song that despite it's slow intro, I always lose my shit to at dance nights (in DC, not Richmond). It's a song that I've had on pretty heavy rotation for a couple of years (see here for embarassing ramblings from dorm life! They were so deep! Please note that I didn't proof read that post at all!).


If you've seen Florence and the Machine live, or the original video for Dog Days, that is pretty much how I dance. There's lots of spinning and flailing involved. I think Chris captured it perfectly.

All by Myself

The past two and a half months have been full of the changes I've wanted (mostly), in the best possible ways. First of all, I quit school and started working full-time. This was something I had been considering since the shitshow that happened this past November. I have never enjoyed school, the only reason I graduated from high school was because my test scores exempted me from most of my exams and I had teachers that were very generous in extending deadlines for me. I have never been motivated by grades, I couldn't care less about them, I wish I did, because I do value learning, just not in such a structured way. And certainly not about Byzantine art or the complexities of a pig's chest cavity.

Deciding to temporarily halt my education was not an easy decision. When it comes down to it though, there was nothing about it contributing to my happiness - it was a constant strain emotionally and monetarily. I couldn't enjoy basic social interactions without being reminded that I had a paper due the next day in addition to having to go to work. But I love my work, I look forward to it each day, I love interacting with my clients and knowing (or hoping) that I have the opportunity to make them feel slightly better, or at the very least look slightly better than they did before they sat in my chair.

I had already signed up for my classes for this semester before I decided not to go back to school. When I clicked the little arrow next to each class to drop them, part of me felt uneasy; school is what we're told we're supposed to do for as long as it takes to get us where we're told we need to go. And my parents had been paying my tuition. I withdrew before telling them and it wasn't until after several weeks of "classes" that I finally told them. They took it surprisingly well. They weren't angry, all they said was not to expect help financially save for occasional car maintenance. It was as though a huge weight had been lifted from our relationship, not that it's ever been the most healthy of relationships, but it's easier to talk to them now because school isn't an issue and I'm not relying on them financially.

Secondly, last year I wanted a boyfriend, or thought I did, but in retrospect I was just looking for an escape. I thought being a relationship would make me happy. I thought I was in love three times last year. That's stupid. So stupid, there are not words for how stupid that is. I wasted so much time talking to my girlfriends about whoever and why was he with her when he should be with me. God, it was fucking terrible. I cried so much. I already cry a lot, at well, most things, but last year it was definitely excessive. I was unhappy with where I was living and hated being at home and didn't ever feel like I could totally be myself. Since moving into my own place I feel like an entirely different person. And all that effort I put into thinking I thought I wanted a relationship, I've refocused and enjoy being at home, by myself. And frankly, I'm over dating in Richmond (and DC), it's boring. Boys, I'm not sorry, but you're boring.

I've found that in my time spent alone, with my phone turned off, a record playing and sitting and reflecting is more enjoyable than everything else. I enjoy going out, but I love going home and not having to still be on to interact with a roommate or their friends; to a bed that I don't have to share with pets or humans. The mess is my mess and there's no one to be clean for and there's no one else's mess to irritate me. Perhaps this sounds selfish, but everything I'm doing right now is in an effort to maintain this contentment. I don't need anyone or thing or class or job to screw that up. If something isn't contributing to my happiness, I've finally learned to have control and dismiss it.

The friends that I've made here are some of the best, and they're slowly moving away. I have one in DC (soon London) another in New York, another moving back to Norfolk, etc. It's seems appropriate for me to get things in order to move too.

Lesson Learned

I have rules against going out before 10 pm. Nothing good happens if you do. You get drunk too early, you're shitfaced by the time you need to go home, do and say things you shouldn't, etc. I typically don't do shooters (save for shots of whiskey) and I'm not a catch-up drinker. All of this is to say, I attempt to be responsible, most of the time.

This past Saturday I lost my shit.

I was invited to play "bar poker" - $5 buy-in, five bars, draw a card at each bar, whoever has the best hand at the end of the night wins. We met up at 8:30 and were at our third bar, and five drinks in by ten.

I remember going to the first four bars, none of them were bars I frequent as I don't usually hang out in my neighborhood. It attracts suburbanites that wear Ed Hardy like it's their job, I'm not into it. And I'm not into "dancing" to top 40 singles. Nothing about my neighborhood really appeals to me after 10 pm Thursday through Saturday nights, but I thought I'd give it a go. I would not have had a good time were it not for the people I was with and the amount of shooters I did.

By 11:30 I was gone. The only reason I know this is because of the drunk texts the next morning that I had no recollection of sending. I left my friends around one after smothering one in lipstick and thought it was a great idea to walk upstairs to my apartment, grab my phone charger and bag, because I only had my wallet and my phone was dying (it's an Android, go figure). And then I thought it was a brilliant idea to drive uptown. How I managed to not kill anyone, myself, or get arrested is still beyond me. Feel free to judge, but know it's not something I'm proud of, but I can't change it and I'm thankful that none of the above happened.

Anyway, I drive uptown, park, but can't remember my friend's address and my phone keeps dying so, from what I vaguely remember I plug my charger into someone's porch outlet and eventually get to my friend's house around 3 am. By that time I'm more aware of what's happening. We end up watching TV and eating cereal and fall asleep on the couch. In the morning I can't find my bag, but I have my phone, my charger and my keys so I figure it's somewhere I'll find it later and go back to sleep.

I was wrong. We searched everywhere, closets, the basement, random storage areas and could not find it anywhere. From this point I can only premise that I left it on someone's porch. Fuck. This is terrible. Really terrible, but we both have places to be so we search for my car instead. It was parked a lot closer than either of us thought it would be.

I get home and find my apartment trashed. I managed to knock everything that could be knocked over, over, which also explains all the bruises I've found on my body since then. But I'm still bag-less, wallet-less, ID-less, money-less, so after sulking for a bit I head back uptown and walk the streets in about a two block radius around my friend's house looking on people's porches, knowing how creepy I must look to those passing by.

And nothing, except a pink post-in note with my friend's address scribbled on it illegibly.

Sunday ends and I can't sleep, so I clean. Subconsciously, I'm pretty sure I was punishing myself - my mother used to always make me clean things as punishment and at really inconvenient times. I'm terribly anxious after I lose things, not because of the credit cards or various IDs, but the totebag and all the buttons on it that I've been collecting from shows and elsewhere since I was fourteen, and the clutch I use as a wallet that an alcoholic, chain smoking, retired nun gave me.

I checked the activity on my cards and there was none, but I canceled my debit card just in case, and went to the DMV to get a new license. Afterward I had to drop some things off at my sister's, my sister who has never had a drink in her life and rolls her eyes anytime I mention my drunken stupidity, as she should.

Monday evening, I wait until it starts to get dark and I attempt to retrace my steps again, hoping that the dark may jar some memory of Saturday night. It doesn't and I go home and attempt to sleep again. Monday night's sleep was worse than Sunday's. I woke up around 4 am and fall in and out of sleep at odd intervals after that, by sunup my neck is in knots.

Tuesday morning I arrive at work in a hurry for my 9 am appointment, and I find my totebag, complete with wallet, cards and IDs in the back room, on the table where I presumably left it and at the front desk, where I clock in, is a stack of pink post-it notes.

Hanging Out

I enjoy hanging out with friends. We go to movies, or to each others' houses or with the advent of my birthday, we mostly wobble around from bar to bar. We are those annoying "early twenty something" girls that you probably hate. But that's my interpretation of the phrase "hanging out."

This is not everyone else' interpretation. Or perhaps it's just Richmond's interpretation is different, I really don't know. I don't know slang, and I'm not a passive communicator, I say exactly what I mean. The end.

I had been out on a few dates with a particular guy in town, and that fizzled, or at least it did for me. I told him one night while we were sitting in my car that I didn't think we were romantically compatible. He didn't like this response, and went on to ask me why I would join a dating service if I wasn't looking for a relationship. This seems silly to me, the implication here, at least what I gathered, was that he thought I was looking for something instant - that I was looking to jump into something quickly. I wasn't, and I'm not. Actually, let me rephrase that, I'm not looking to jump into anything with anyone that I don't have that immediate connection with. It's not "love at first sight," it's more something at first glance. It's a lingering feeling, connection that isn't forced, it just is.

Though, I did enjoy the time we spent together, the chemistry just wasn't there. He explained that he "didn't need anymore friends" which is fine, but rude to say. And I told him that I was looking more to meet people than for a long-term relationship; if something didn't work out, well then at least I'd met someone new and hopefully someone that would still be interested in knowing me.

He leaned in and "whispered I'm going to make this hard for you" and kissed me. Like that was supposed to change my mind or something. It didn't. He got out of my car and I went home.

The following weekend he sent me a series of passive aggressive text messages, though when I finally confronted him about it he claimed that I just didn't "get his sense of humor, yet." This combined with condescending statements regarding how I interact with people and that I need to be "socialized" - whatever that means - didn't exactly help his case. So when he called me a week later at two in the morning and asked if I was "hanging out" I wasn't sure what he was talking about.

I had gathered that he thought I was interested in his friend, not true, and thought he was asking about his friend. His friend and I had been "hanging out" in my sense of the phrase, platonically. He went on, "No, are we hanging out?"

I think we use that term differently, you mean are we dating? No. I thought I explained this to you last week.

"No, we made out in your car."

No, you kissed me, there was no making out.

"So, we're not hanging out?

No. I am not interested in pursuing a romantic relationship with you. I'm sorry.

"Oh, well, bye."

This was followed by him tweeting about "realtalk" and then blocking me on Twitter. Real mature.

Let's be clear though, I had been seeing him less than a month, and we had never had a DTR (define the relationship talk), so I wasn't leading him on. I've been out with lots of people and met lots of people and generally putting myself in new environments in which I can meet new people. I'm not "hanging out," I'm hanging out and I prefer it that way.

Faking It Pt. 2 (wherein I overshare)

(If you're Mormon and/or related to me, you may not want to read this, just a heads up.)

I spend way too much time with my sister, April. She's a stay at home mom and they have the internet and netflix, and more food than I do, and the cutest kid ever - all of which are reasons to go there. But because she stays at home, she also enjoys (or pretends to) my stories of being single and stupid and doing very stupid things, especially concerning the opposite sex and/or booze.

April and I are fundamenally very different, she is conservative and wears muted colors, and I am very liberal and prefer bold colored everything. She also has all these rules, rules about life and dating like, "don't bake for him until he's bought you three dinners" and "no telling him what he would look better in before five dates" - the list goes on and she's more than happy to enlighten me whenever something goes wrong.

She thinks that I have terrible taste in men, "he's ugly/fat/old/etc." followed by "and he's just not that into you" are frequent things she vocalizes. And she makes no effort to remember anyone's name "until she meets them." So all the guys I date are worthless phantoms because I can't seem to have a normal dating life, but I'm really good at the non-relationship. These are relationships that aren't defined, he is not my boyfriend, I am not his girlfriend, and usually one or both of us are projecting our feelings for an ex on to the other person.

Well I was seeing this guy for just under two months, given things moved really fast, but he was the one that said "we" first. I don't do that - because then I end up being that crazy girl who wants things to move to fast, so I wait and see. I'm really good at this. I also don't hold hands in public, or kiss, or generally behave as though I'm dating someone unless you know, it seems like a sure thing.

This guy in particular said "we" first at a concert we went to. We were talking to a friend of mine who DJs and happened to be djing the following weekend and Boy looked at me and asked if "we" would be going. I had been planning to go as I do most months, but I had planned on crashing at a friend's place. I explained that I was sure my friends probably wouldn't mind putting him up to with which he responded, "Oh, we'll just get a hotel." What? Right, because that's something that people that have been dating less than a month do without the intention of being in a relationship. Sure, it could translate into "I just want to fuck you in a hotel" but come on, you don't have to go to another city to do that. It was the night before going back to DC that we had the "I'm not interested in seeing anyone else, but I don't want to rush into another longterm relationship" talk. Story of my life.

We go to DC, we have a great time, we continue to see each other, we do coupley things, we go to a few shows, and then when we're on our way to a movie he says, "I woudln't care if you slept with other people..." "Really?" "Yeah, it's not like we're in a relationship..." "You're right, we're not." We're just spending several nights a week at each other's places and people are starting to regard us as a couple, but yeah, we're totally not in a relationship.

Things fizzled, that's fine. He didn't want a relationship. Whatever. I can deal. Then my birthday happened, and he slept through it because he had been "working a lot..." So I drunkenly sauntered over to his house and woke him up at 1:30 am. There were tears involved and I think I may have shouted something along the lines of "I want to be in love!" Because I am melodramatic and generally impulsive.

He did take me out the following week and we had a lovely, if not slightly awkward time. But I am not the type that just stops caring about people. I've never understood how people just stop talking to their exes, and he's not even a real ex, an ex-lover? That sounds cheap. Anyway, I'm usually pretty good at staying friends with people, even Mr. Potato Head and I managed to get back to being friends.

Everything was fine until last week. I'm not sure exactly what happened, but I've been struggling with money, school, the move, really just life this past month and went out every single night for two weeks in an effort to escape it, because that's healthy. Last week I was out with some girlfriends and I wanted to go sing kareoke, and with no obligations the next day we saw it fit to drink in excess (cue Four Loko). As I was walking up I ran into his roommate who told me that he was there, which was fine, except he was there with a girl, which also would have been fine had he given me a heads up.

We had talked two days prior and I had told him about my joining OkCupid and the dates I had been on, he didn't say anything. So walking up and being told and then seeing what was happening was like a punch in the face. I managed to keep my cool-ish - I spent a lot of time smoking other people's cigarettes and pacing up and down the block while my friend went inside and made new friends. But what's worse is that he did introduce us, and later I put two and two together and she dated one of those OkCupid guys I went out with. It's incredible how small this city is.

I went home that night and didn't sleep. That was followed by days of not sleeping or eating, and the knot in my stomach just got bigger and eating became near impossible. The amount of anxiety I experience in five days was more than I think I've ever experienced. It all culminated over the weekend with a series of panic attacks, passive aggressive tweets (that I later deleted) and vomiting in my friend's toilet Saturday night. Sunday was spent in a daze of trying to get things accomplished and attempting sleep, but turned into another panic attack on Sunday that ended in my friend's living room with a xanax in one hand and a bowl in the other. If nothing else, the munchies got me eating.

Monday I went to April's and she pointed out how terrible I looked, I hadn't spent more than ten hours in the previous four days in my apartment, and was still wearing Friday's clothes. Classy. Gross.

I'm not sure why, or how these things affect me the way they do, but they do and there's not a whole lot I can do about it. He has no idea (though he might read this, probably not). I even cut his hair and had him repay me in the form of liqour, and with the exception of a few awkward moments, it was mostly fine. Fine is what it has to be, because I'm not going to stay in to avoid uncomfortable situations, they happen, and I put on a happy face and deal. It's all I can do.

I've never had to deal with this situation before, I've always remained friends, or at least friendly with my exes. I know I'm going to run into them, and just because we're not together doesn't mean that you stop caring, and if I care about anyone in the least I usually make a point to say hello. It just sucks when you realize that you were someone's rebound, and that it's not that they didn't want a relationship, they just didn't want it with you. Even after all the "signs" and words, and all the little things, they're okay not talking to you and they aren't ever going to suggest hanging out, or grabbing lunch or drinks. All of that is fine, because thankgod, you aren't pregnant, and you can move on to the strangers on the internet that think you're "sexxi" and put on a happy face.

I really need to put up and pay for the internet

So, the abridged version of the past three weeks.

1. Signed the lease for my new place and moved. I'm now living in a studio, by myself, without roommates - WITHOUT ROOMMATES, in Shockoe Bottom. Sure I live above a really shitty bar/club combo thing that plays really terrible Top 40 music three nights a week, but I live alone, and it is clean, and I'm usually out those nights anyway. My neighbors are alright, no one is particularly loud and I'm pretty sure there aren't any hookers that live in my building - I'm moving up in this world.

2. Turned 21 - this may or may not have led to me standing outside of someone's house in the rain and crying after they slept through my birthday. Happy Birthday to me! And then I may or may not have continued to get drunk and/or stoned elsewhere. Yay! for healthy decisions!

3. I didn't go to Pittsburgh as I had planned. Christina's grandfather died and then she had to work, and I had a series of money issues and it was generally just a bad weekend. So I'll probably go after the new year, and I'm really hoping that she and her boytoy come to Richmond over the holidays.

4. I joined a dating site, because you know, I want to go on dates and have some semblance of a normal dating life that doesn't include men twenty years my senior. I'm not sure what the problem is, but meeting people in Richmond is one of the hardest things. Making friends is difficult enough, but dating is near impossible. I've been out with friends and not met anyone, I've been out by myself and not met anyone - though the last time I went out by myself was to a post-punk dance night and I was that girl dancing by herself - a couple of dudes talked to me after and said that they had seen me dancing/that I was a good dancer, etc. but they waited until everyone was leaving. WTF? Anyway, I was annoyed, so this whole online thing is something I'm giving a shot. So far it's been pretty entertaining, I have learned to delete messages from dudes who don't wear shirts in their profile pictures, and some dudes think that liking "blockbuster movies and lemonade" makes them a catch. It doesn't. I've only been on it a week and I've already been on a couple dates with normal dudes, or seemingly normal dudes.


Seriously, the past three weeks have been insane. And I still don't have the internet at my new place because I'm poor, so I'm writing this from a cafe down the street from me. I'm really embracing the poor writer/student cliche.

As a result of being 21, I've been going out more, in Richmond which has been nice. I've only spent like one day in DC in the last month and that was to see La Roux. I finally feel like a Richmond kid, it's terrible, but probably healthy.

Completely unrelated and I'll probably post about this later, but don't fall asleep at your friend's house when they're doing mushrooms.

I'm moving, again, and not to DC.

When I moved in with Adam in June, I had been in a hurry to find some reasonable human being to live with in a very short period of time. I basically had three weeks to find somewhere to live.

Adam is straight-edge, and vegan. Which isn't a problem. We don't share food, with the exception of his candy. His diet is made up primarily of fried potato products and candy - he doesn't like the banana flavored laffytaffy, so he puts it in a bowl for me. I think this is gross. But that's just fine because he thinks that all the dairy products I consume are gross.

He is also not in any way type-A. I am. And this is where I have driven every roommate I've had insane. I like the areas that we share to be clean, but not your version of clean, my version of clean. And then I start to resent the person I live with for not having the same standards that I have and I start doing passive aggressive things, like not taking the trash out when it starts to smell, or not doing dishes - just to see how long it takes them to notice.

When I moved in I liked that Adam was a DJ, had a great music collection, small label and is just generally a music person. I didn't realize that he had so much stuff. And I really don't like stuff. I am a minimalist. I like my books and records, but I like them stored in a non-obtrusive way. I like linear things and I like stacks and defined angles. And I really don't like dog hair.

Adam has two dogs, two pugs. And I grew up with dogs, I love dogs and generally prefer them to cats. But I don't think I've ever been around two dogs that shed as much as these two do, or maybe it's just because there are two of them. And nevermind the older dog's bowel issues - I bought a plastic rug for the living room specifically because of this problem.

So, Adam and I had it out the other night. I've wanted to move out for awhile, but wasn't really sure how to go about asking out of my lease. And I didn't mean for it to happen the way that it did, but basically he told me I was mean and I told him he was dirty, and then we talked about our fucked up families. It actually felt a lot like a lot of the conversations I've had with my family members growing up - things almost always started with an argument, then turned to tears, then eventually a rational discussion was born. Age-wise he would fit perfectly into my family, snugly between Steven and April.

So, now I'm on the hunt for another home. One where I live by myself. As much as all of my roommates have annoyed me, I can honestly say that I love them. But as a favor to the rest of the world, I really need to live alone. Well, as a favor, and for my sanity. The only issue with this is that it will be slightly more expensive. I have resigned myself to the fact that I will A) be living in the ghetto or B) be living in not the greatest conditions. I prefer the former.

I looked at a tiny one-bedroom earlier this week and it was kind of perfect except for the location. The leasing agent even warned me of the proximity to one of Richmond's most dangerous developments. This doesn't bother me as much as it will bother my parents. The place is in a quadraplex and the other tenants are mostly nursing students that attend classes on the nearby MCV campus.

I'm looking at a studio today that's in the noisy Shockoe area. I'd be living above a bar, which again doesn't really bother me because it means that I could be as loud as I wanted to. And I have an appointment to look at another one bedroom later today that's in my current neighborhood - it's more expensive, but all inclusive.

I am using one of my old roommates as a reference so that she can attest to my cleanliness and orderliness. I'm not a bad tenant, I'm just a bitch to live with.

Storytime

Yesterday evening I met up with a friend with whom I have not seen a couple weeks. She is carless, so I picked her up and we went to our favorite burger place.

Me: Here we got these samples at work, but we just stopped carrying this line. Their great, but I don't need the moisture one, so I thought I'd give it to you.
Her: Thanks, and way to turn that into an insult.

She has curly hair and it's pretty, but it could be prettier.

Later we're sitting at a table on the patio of the restaurant and I see this guy with whom mutual friends tried to set me up with last year. He's cute and according to the mutual friends "looks just like Ian Curtis." We met up for dinner once and walked through Oregon Hill and then back to Broad Street for ice cream one evening last year. I'm pretty sure we haven't talked since then. He apparently has a girlfriend, she's probably an art student, he's getting his graduate degree in something art related. Anyway, so he and his assumed girlfriend end up sitting two tables over from me and my friend. Neither he nor I say anything to acknowledge the other.

I fill my friend in on all the ridiculous happening in my life, as per usual. My life cannot get cut a break, ever. I suppose it's better this way, otherwise I would be so bored.

Our food arrives and I have ordered onion rings. I love onion rings, but I had forgotten how large the order was.

Me: Do you want any?
Her: No, I don't like onion rings.
Me: Really?
Her: I've always hated them.

about half an hour goes by...

Her: Actually, can I have one?
Me: Sure, but I thought you didn't like them.
Her: Actually, I've never tried them...(takes bite)...these are delicious!

We then proceed to walk around Carytown looking for hiring signs because she is looking for a new job. We see that a barbecue place is hiring so she goes in and fills out an application, I sit by an ice cream store down the way.

A woman and her two children come out of the ice cream shop. The little boy called Jack-Jack asks if he can sit by me (I'm in one of four chairs) an as I say yes his sisters sits in it, so he sits in the next one over. A man with a motorcycle helmet is sitting on the other side of him and becomes distracted by the helmet and drops his ice cream. While he is screaming, his sister tells me all about Robin Hood which happens to be playing at the dollar theater across the street, and their mother gives the boy her cone. She picks up her son's cone and sees that it can be salvaged. She takes a napkin out of her purse and wipes it clean and then trades her son. "You got a decent bargain, two flavors instead of one," say the man with the helmet. The boy settles down and my friend comes out and we continue on our way.

Today I had English. My "Image Analysis" was due today, it required me to find a print add in a magazine and criticize it. I chose a Skinny Cow add in Glamour magazine. I usually don't pay attention to add that aren't fashion related, but I have found that all the non-fashion related adds in women's magazines are incredibly insulting compared to the adds in men 's magazines. Ugh.

Anyway, we were told before our break to meet in the library after the break. I got there with a buch of my classmates and we all sat in a circle of loveseats and chairs. There was a little girl sitting on one of the loveseats and we all started talking to her and asking her about her books. Okay, not everyone, but me and the guy that I flirt with in this class (you have to have someone to flirt with in all of your classes, duh). Anyway, she was telling me all about her books when she left for a moment. When she came back she asked me to read her a story... I hesitated before asking her to pick one. She chose The Mitten, the story about a boy who loses his white mitten in the snow and a bunch of animals make room in it to keep warm before it gives and they are put out and then he finds his very stretched out mitten. The end. Anyway, I didn't make it though the entire story because my class was meeting in one of the group study rooms, but the little girl didn't seem to mind and thanked me for reading as far as I did. She was probably about six, and very bored. I would have been too, it was just so sad to me. I suppose it shouldn't be, but I had no idea who her parents were, but I can infer from my fellow classmates that they were probably single and can't afford childcare, and probably don't have time between work and school for storytime. It's such a shame, because storytime is really the only thing that matters before the age of nine when most people are capable of reading fairly well on their own.

My dad was the storyteller when I was a child. If we weren't reading one of the books from the giant stack we brought home from the library, he was making one up. He is to blame for my overactive imagination, slight paranoia and love for reading. And I find it difficult when I realize that not everyone is as luck as I was to have someone read to them everyday. I may be making too much of this, perhaps that girl does get read to frequently and just has no problem asking strangers to read to her. That's would still be an incredibly different experience than what I had, and I hope that's the case. Even so, those few minutes were surprisingly enjoyable as I read to not just her, but that circle of people. It felt strange, but comfortable.

the closest I've ever come to getting arrested

A few weeks ago I got a ticket for having my front headlight out. A total bullshit offense, right? I mean, I wasn't speeding, or swerving or remotely causing anyone harm. I AM NOT A VIOLENT PERSON. Just because I say "I'm going to punch (fill in the blank) in the face" all the time does not mean I would actually do it. For the record, I have never punched anyone, and I've only slapped two people ever - my friends older brother when we were like thirteen because he was being a dick, and a dude that I was totally not seeing last year for being a dick (after getting into a fight with me, it's best to apologize before making certain other remarks). Anyway, the ticket. I was issued a ticket for something other than being a crap driver, because I am not a crap driver. I am a fantastic driver, aggressive, slightly, but totally safe.

Completely unrelated: Since getting my front end suspension replaced earlier this year, my car totally doesn't shake anymore when I hit 70. And if I go faster (NEVER!) it still doesn't shake. YAY!

So, today was my court date. I woke up and took a shower and put on a cute vintage dress with cute sandals, and did not have to do my hair because !!! it is finally a length where it looks good when it air-dries! Anyway, I looked really cute today because court, like church, is an opportunity to boost my already extraordinarily inflated ego because I know that the likelihood of me looking cuter than most of the people around me is really high. Most days this frustrates me, I mean why don't people put in a little more effort?

I've been in a weird mood today, and apparently I'm taking it out on everything intangible.

I left my apartment with ample time to find parking, I thought. I was so wrong. I drove around for a fucking hour looking for a fucking parking spot. By the time I finally found a spot, I was half an hour late for court. Then I had to go through security. I had prepared myself for this part. I took everything that I knew was in my purse and not allowed in the courthouse out and left it in my car - my iPod, my phone, the granola bar. Apparently I had a spoon and the hardware from my curtain rod, a bottle of nail polish and my ipod headphones in my purse. And apparently, despite it not being listed anywhere (save the glass bottle of nail polish), those items are not allowed and I had to take them back to my car.

By this point I was really upset, but trying to retain my composure. This is something I am terrible at, what with all the crying I do. And then I read the sign above the door stating what is and isn't allowed in the courthouse, and it did not say anything about extraneous pieces of metal or headphones. Ugh. So, you know what I did? I threw my keys at the sign. At some point or another, I will throw my keys at everything. And if my phone happens to be in my hand, I throw that too.

A cop saw me do this and wouldn't let me go back inside because I was "hysterical." And he was "unsure" of what I might do once inside. Ummm... let's rewind for a moment, I'm a cute girl in a cute dress and I'm crying and yeah, I threw my keys. And this fucko was worried about me hurting someone. Seriously? Yes, and then another officer came outside and asked me what happened and I told him that apparently throwing my keys at a sign is illegal. To which he said "yes..." as though it was common knowledge. They went on to explain that I needed to calm down and that throwing something at government property could be considered vandalism, blahblahblah, and then they told me to calm down again. And Officer 2 explained that if I didn't calm down Officer 1 could arrest me. Arrest me? Amanda Pittman? The crying girl who just wanted to go to court to get her ticket dismissed? And they wonder why everyone hates them.

After this incident I had to go through security again, where I was told yet again to calm down. Like crying is a fucking crime. I cry, OKAY! I turned to the officer and told him that I would appreciate it if he didn't talk to me anymore because telling me repeatedly to calm down was in no way helping the situation. He stopped.

I found my way to the right room and they were on the Gs. Whew. So I pulled out my book and read for a full twenty minutes before another officer told me to put my book away. Seriously. I closed my book, but that wasn't good enough, no, I had to put it in my purse under the bench. I was still crying at this point, not for any particular reason, but because sometimes I just can't stop. Ugh. So I sat there silently making sure that the officer could see every scowl I cast in his direction until it was finally my turn. Though, I first had to listen to an officer and a defendant argue about french fries - true story. The officer said the defendant had McDonald's and the defendant claimed his fries were from Five Guys. Finally it was my turn and the charge was dismissed.

Finally.

Just when I was kindasorta starting to like Richmond, they had to remind me why I thought this city was stupid in the first place. This is why.

The Abridged Version

HI!HI!HI!HI!HI!HI!HI!HI!

I have been away for much too long. Mostly because the past thirty days popped my bubble and then shook the bubble batter and then spilled it all over my favorite dress.

Perhaps a simpler way of saying this would be that the universe took a giant shit on me.

Or, it just kept throwing punches at me and each time I got up, I was right back down.

You get the point (and probably got it after the first metaphor).

In the past month my leasing company terminated my lease which then left me to find a new place to live in a matter of three weeks to avoid paying rent for the month of June. Then classes started. And I had to work. And I went to San Francisco because I had planned that trip well before any of this happened (I had a great time and will write about it later). Oh, and while I was in San Francisco the left side of my head started hurting as a result of an infection in one of wisdom teeth. Then when I got back I missed my first day of classes due to my dentist appointment, and then had my wisdom teeth out and had to move the following weekend - Memorial day weekend, the weekend that NO ONE was in town to help. And amidst the move I lost my computer because someone (Dad!) told someone else to put it under the seat of the Uhaul, but no one thought to tell me and I thought it was in my Dad's mini-van and then well, whatever, I got it back. And then the week after living in my new apartment and getting relatively settled, I dropped a box of stuff off at a thrift store and thought I'd look around for a new couch. I was in for twenty minutes and when I came out someone had left a huge dent in my rear bumper and broken the left side's lights, but there wasn't any plastic on the ground, weird. Like, they cleaned it up or something and didn't leave a note. My car was already shitty, but I liked that it didn't have any defining features. Ugh.

Anyway, all of that happened. And now I am driving my new roommate nuts with all my organizing and rearranging and insisting that our apartment look like two adults live here. Though, I do recognize the fact that most people, regardless of their age, do not care about cleanliness and neatness and orderliness as much as I do. I keep moving things to logical locations that allow all the space to be used as efficiently as I know how, and he keeps asking me where it went. His laffy taffy? On the top shelf of the pantry with all his other junk food - but really that makes up at least half of his diet. It's bizarre. And he is Vegan. And he does not cook or really eat vegetables, unless french fries and potato chips count. His diet aside, he is wonderful, mostly because he is putting up with my neuroses better than most. And he has a full-time job, and responsibility and dogs, and these are things that do not frustrate me, because it means he has a real life, with little free time, unlike my roommates of past. I love both of those girls, but it's kind of irritating living with someone who is unemployed and perfectly content with that because they're full-time students. How anyone is okay with being jobless is beyond me. How anyone has so much unstructured time and doesn't feel compelled to fill it with cooking and cleaning and organizing is also beyond me.

I would make an incredible assistant or secretary or lifecoach. Also, I pull of the hot-secretary look very well.

Also, yes, I live with a boy. My parents are understandably upset and have yet to meet him. He is straight-edge though, and that is something I had to explain to them, and after understanding that he does not drink alcohol they approved, sort of. Still, what are they supposed to tell people!? Nothing, because it isn't anyone's business. And by anyone, I mean everyone at their church that I can't stand - i.e. a lot of stay-at-home-moms who talk too much. HI, CHURCHLADIES!

My apartment will hopefully be done with all the rearranging and storing of excess things in the attic by the end of this week. I hope.

Eviction Pt. 2

Today, Anthea and I made our way down to our leasing office to ask what "non-remediable" offense we done. We waited for about half an hour before the leasing agent showed up to talk to us. And then, we weren't even invited back into the office, he just leaned across the receptionist's counter.

Me: Can you explain this to us?
Him: We want you out in thirty days.
Me: Yeah, got that part, but what did we do that went against the lease?
Him: You brought a dead rodent into the leasing office and told a couple not to rent with us. It's bad for business, and not matter how many times you say you're sorry, it's still non-remediable.
Me: Uh. Huh. Okay, but you didn't state that in the letter.
Him: Look, you can take us to court and this will turn into a long, drawn out process, or you can just move out.
Me: Will we be getting out deposits back?
Him: We will still sent someone over for a move-out inspection, so unless you trash the place, there shouldn't be a problem.
Me: That's all we wanted to know.



We don't really care that their reasoning for kicking us out isn't kosher, because I mean, we hate it here - especially during the renovations. If we cared to stay here we could probably take them to court, but we really just want our money back. And will wait until we have it back before we obnoxiously spread the word of how terrible they are. If I had known getting our of my lease was this easy, I would have found a dead mouse and used it to this advantage months ago.

We will be filing formal complaints with both the Better Business Bureau and the Health Department. And if I find anymore mice in my apartment, I'm going to take them to the leasing office again. Also the leasing agent is such a prick, he was so snide. How can anyone maintain any level of dignity and work for such a corrupt company?

Eviction Pt. 1

This evening after work I came home to the Mormon magazines my dad has mailed to me and an envelope from my leasing company. Inside the envelope I was anticipating another memo regarding the renovations, but instead was a notice that read:

Dear Tenants,

This letter is to inform you that effective today, May 5, 2010, we are sending you a 30-Day Least Termination notice, per Section 21-D. You must vacate the apartment effective June 5, 2010.

If you have any questions, please feel free to contact our office. Thank you.
Section 21-D reads:

Non-remediable Violations. If Tentants(s) commit material noncompliance which is not remediable, Landlord may serve on Tenant(s) a termination notice stating that the Lease Agreement will terminate in thirty (30) days for the reasons stated terein without allowing Tenants(s) an opportunity to remedy such breach. If a breach of Tenant(s)' obligations under the Virginia law, or the Lease agreement, involves or constitutes a criminal or willful act, which is not remdiable and which poses a threat to health or safety, Landlord may terminate the Lease Agreement immediately by giving of and appropriate written notice.
Please note that in the letter they did not mention what I was being evicted for. This entire week has been so surreal - like something from a crappy comedy about a single woman who keeps running into problems in the new city and is looking for a better life, but needs to learn to appreciate the life she has and takes down a company along the way to discovering herself. I mean, they have no reasonable explanation for my eviction. I have only paid my rent late once, and that was because I thought I had three business days, but it's actually three regular days and I paid the fee and everything was taken care of that day. As far as I know, no one has ever complained about me and until this week I haven't had excessive problems with my appliances and despite the roach infestation, I can't complain.

In the last year I have learned way too much about roaches. And I have found that a 3:1 ratio or boric acid to cocoa works really well for getting rid of the vermin. Also, there are a lot of species and at least five of those live in my building. I could work at one of those bug zoos - also, I have the appropriate shorts for such a job. They are khaki and I wear them all the time.

I have wanted out of my least pretty much since I moved in and now they are kinda, sorta, doing me a favor by "terminating my lease" only five days after I give them my 90 days notice. So to get this straight:

-My roommate and I gave them the required notice to discontinue our lease.

-I called and visited the leasing office repeatedly this week to resolve various issues that resulted from renovations, nothing that I did.

- Received a letter kicking me out without an explanation.

I spent a great deal of time tonight looking up reviews of the company and most of which were negative, and the positive ones were so obviously not real it was pathetic. I then moved to the Better Business Bureau and found that this particular company was graded an F and there were 56 complaints filed in the past 36 months.

Yeah, I'm going to be spending a good portion of Monday in the leasing office waiting to talk to either the manager or the owners of the company. And I will be moving out by June fifth, and I will be taking them to court. And I will win.

Renovations Pt. 3

I am losing my mind.

I am honestly going to commit some sort of crime that will be excused because of my insanity.

The renovations have done nothing but inconvenience my life.

So, since they've started, everything that could go wrong went wrong this week:

1. The AC broke
2. Dead mouse
3. Broken window
4. BROKEN REFRIGERATOR.

Mind you, there was nothing wrong with my apartment before, except for the occasional brown bug - but I can deal and have dealt for a year. I understand that my leasing company is out to make money, and part of that means getting tax deductions for "renovating" hundreds of apartments. This week though, this week has been a complete nightmare.

And then there's that whole starving student thing. I had enough food to hold me over until I get paid on Tuesday, but with the exception of the vodka and thinmints, everything else in the fridge and freezer was thrown away. For dinner last night I made guacamole and had my friend bring chips. And today my coworker bought me lunch, so I'll pay her back.

My parents have done renovations to their house while I was growing up. And never in my life were things this stressful. I have had strange men, most of whom have bad teeth (I have a thing about teeth, I have a difficult time trusting people with gaps) and I had no say in the times they work in my apartment. So, unless I've had class or been at work, I have been sitting on my couch because I'm paranoid that one of these dudes will raid my vinyl collection and I'll have to buy it back on Ebay. Or steal my laptop, but even that has been with me most of the time, just because of this reason. It's not with me today, and I'm worrying about it. Luckily my roommate is home, so it should be fine.

But I don't have any real food except for maybe some french-cut green beans and rice. I can't even make a grilled cheese sandwich. It is Friday though, I don't really need anything except vodka and thinmints anyway.

Renovations Pt. 2: I want my old Apartment back

This past Sunday I woke up to an apartment that was 88 degrees. Inside. It was hotter in my apartment than it was outside. And this was after they installed the new AC units. I wasn't home most of Sunday and my leasing company's office isn't open on Sunday, so I waited until Monday to call and complain. Apparently my apartment is not the only one with this issue, and apparently my leasing company doesn't care enough to check out who they hire, because the dude that installed mine and about three other units (not Ed) wasn't certified or something. AWESOME! So Anthea and I have had the front and back doors open for most of the time we've been home since this weekend.

I really wouldn't care that much about how hot it is if I could just hang out naked in my apartment, but I can't. There have been random dudes in and out of my apartment every day this week. And I am just not that open. So, I've been dealing with the heat, and the random dudes.

Monday we were told that we should go ahead and clean out all the cabinets because they were going to be replaced on Tuesday as well as all the appliances in the kitchen. Then we got told that we were also going to have everything replaced in our bathroom the same day. At first, I was excited about this because it meant that I was going to be rid of all these dudes sooner.

Silly, me.

While I was cleaning out the cabinet under my kitchen sink, I found a dead mouse. This is the second dead mouse I have found in my apartment this month and the third mouse overall this month. This is not cool. I mean, I already have to deal with roaches. I don't need mice.

Aside: I do think that mice are cute, and they have been my favorite animal since I was a toddler and got a Fischer-Price stuffed animal Christmas mouse every year.

So, I put the mouse in a container and saved it. Tuesday, all the construction workers came into my apartment and sawed and drilled and generally made a mess, and after class I took the mouse down to the leasing office.

Me: I would like to speak with (the owner's of the leasing company who happen to live two blocks from me).
Bitchy Receptionist (who used to get her hair done at my salon): They aren't here.
Me: Yes, they are. Their car is parked outside. They drive that Lincoln SUV.
BR: That's none of your business.
Me: Well, I know they're here. If they aren't available, fine, but don't lie to me.
BR: They are unavailable.
Me: Well, I would like a maintenance request/complaint form.
(She brings me one)
Me: Can you make sure that they get this? (I pass her the container)
BR: Sure, what is it...Oh, what a cute, poor little fellow...
Me: You must not live in one of their properties.
BR: That is also none of your business.
Me: You wouldn't think it was cute if it was the third one you'd found in your apartment in a month.

When I got home, I pulled up right as a leasing agent and an interested couple were parting ways. I waited until the leasing agent was out of hearing range and word vomited all over that couple. I told them everything negative that I have experienced in the last year of living here. I'm pretty sure I talked them out of leasing with my company, at least I hope so. I wish I had been so lucky as to have someone tell me not to rent with them last year.

When I got inside I saw that they were done with the bathroom and kitchen, but nothing was really different. I mean, yeah, there were new things, but it isn't impacting my life in a positive way. This whole thing has been a headache. A huge, fucking headache - a migraine. My bathroom now has new everything, but it's exactly the same as the old stuff - still a white toilet, but one with a plastic seat instead of the heavier kind; still a pedestal sink; still a claw-foot tub, but this one has been re-varnished. The kitchen has a new fridge but it's still a 3/4 sized one and there wasn't anything wrong with the old one. We have a new stove, but instead of a drawer on the bottom of it, we have a broiler - so there's storage space lost. And the cabinets are new, but aren't as deep as the old ones, and they didn't replace the small cabinet/counter that used to be on the other side of our fridge, so where we used to have a place to store baking sheets, set our mixer and toaster, and had a drawer for utensils - we don't. So now I have to figure out where to put this stuff. I haven't tried the dish washer yet, the old one didn't work as well as I would have liked it to, and I've gotten used to hand washing dishes, so I probably won't use the new dish washer.

Do you have a headache? Because I do. That wasn't a metaphor. I really do have a headache.

Today they started working on our porch. And our specific part of the porch has had a huge hole over it since December. I have complained about it repeatedly since then and it has slowly grown larger. It started as three small holes last summer and finally the whole thing just fell through Sunday. So now I have strange dudes hanging out tearing down asbestos and lead infested paint and plaster - so I can't open my porch door. And to my delight, after I got home from a meeting today and had settled into my couch and computer when one of the panes of my porch door breaks. One of the workmen had bumped into it with a 2x4. I go out and ask about them fixing it. One, who did not do the breaking tells me that he'll do it within the hour.

He comes in and is picking out pieces of glass and stripping paint off pieces of wood and constantly pulling his shirt down because his fly is down. I pretended not to notice. Anyway, so we're talking and he's fixing my door and we're discussing the type of people that live in my building now versus when I moved in. AND apparently there are not only strippers above me, but also across the hall and a prostitute in #11! Apparently the prostitute was very unhappy with strange men coming in and out of her apartment...so she gave them half off.

They guy fixing my door said that he found this out from another worker who took her up on the deal! AGHHHHHHHHHHHH! Twenty-five dollars. TWENTY-FIVE DOLLARS! That's all she charged! I'm already hated by everyone in my building because I'm that bitch who asks them to be quiet at two in the morning on weekdays, so I was really considering asking her if it was true. I mean, I'm really curious. I want to know how she got to the point in her life where she will fuck the Mexican day-laborers for $25. Seriously? If you're going to sell yourself, don't be so cheap. And fuck businessmen, and charge them hundreds of dollars, if not thousands. Now, I don't have any experience in the sex trade, but I wouldn't fuck someone so cheaply. I would hang out in yuppie bars, find a really drunk one, go home with him, take all his cash and credit cards and be on my way - you know, take total advantage of the John. Or hotel bars, or something. I mean, hasn't she ever seen Secret Diary of a Call Girl?


(If you're Mormon, you probably shouldn't watch this, it's cause to speak with your bishop and go through the steps of repentance.)


Twenty. Five. Dollars. You charge more than $25 for that.

I don't care if it's not true, it's still the most pathetic thing I've ever heard.

I mean, damn, I thought people paid more than that for head.

August cannot come fast enough.

Renovations Pt. 1

There are currently four dudes hanging out in my dining room replacing the furnace and A/C units. Which is awesome, but hugely inconvenient and uncomfortable. We have had maintenance issues before, mostly in the bathroom, and those maintenance guys have been great. One, Ed, and I saw each other so often last summer that I would just call him directly when there was a problem. It turned out that my upstairs neighbors were retarded and only put a liner on one side of their tub so the water that made it's way out the other side would collect and trickle down through the electric system and collect in the light in our bathroom. I finally asked them if I could see their bathroom to see if I could figure out what the deal was, and when I saw that, I politely asked them to get another liner for the other side of the tub. Stupidstupid girls.

Anyway, Ed. He got to the point where he would call me and vent. I think he started to think of me as a surrogate daughter or something. He was about my dad's age, and was also a Viet-Nam veteran and his contracting business had gone under with the recession so he started working for my leasing company to make ends meat.

While I was on vacation with my family I got a call from Ed's ex-wife asking for Rachel (or Anne?). Apparently Ed and his daughter were estranged and his ex saw the area code and thought that maybe my number was his daughter's. He died of heart failure. I wasn't able to make it to the funeral. No one has been as reliable or informed as he was.

The main guy working on the HVAC stuff reminds me of Ed, but is not quite as conversational. And the other dudes are all Hispanic and don't speak English well, and ogle me when I leave my room. This is only the beginning of the renovations for my apartment. They started renovations on all of the buildings on my block a couple months ago and the various plumbing and roofing trucks have been taking up all the space in the parking lot. It's now to the point where we can't park there at all. And supposedly we'll have all new appliances by the end of the month and a new tub (while I like the current claw-foot tub, it's not quite long enough for me to fully enjoy taking a bath) and sink in the bathroom.

I find it interesting that this is what my leasing company is "fixing" because the only complaints that I've had since moving in have been vermin related. Though, I've been pretty good at dealing with that problem on my own, it would be nice if the leasing company hired an exterminating company. Oh, and my neighbors. The ones across the hall and the ones upstairs are so loud, ALL THE TIME. I should not have the television on and still be able to hear my neighbors across the hall or outside. I'm pretty sure Richmond has no idea what common sense or common courtesy are.

I would gladly go without a new refrigerator and dishwasher if they just got rid of the bugs and replaced the plaster walls with sheet rock and put in double-paned windows. Really, people, you have no idea what a luxury double-paned windows are. With my luck everything will be done by the time I move out and I won't even get a chance to sort of enjoy it.

I think I can...

The semester is ending, summer is approaching, and I'm totally not having summer this year. I'm determined to just get this shit, i.e. school, over with. So, I'm taking sixteen credits. I'm already freaking out about next semester and I'm not even done with this one. AND I have ton of stuff left to do. Ugh. So this weekend, I had previously planned on driving to Chapel Hill to see Frightened Rabbit (because the DC date is sold out and I'm going to see Phoenix that day anyway). This is kind of a big deal. I once drove to Philly and back in one night to see a show. This isn't unusual behavior for music nerds, but to normal people who don't get pissed when their favorite band(s) don't play their city.

Anyway, my point is that I'm attempting to be studious and giving up something that I love (A LOT, I saw them three times at SXSW) in exchange for something incredibly boring.

I have two, not one, but TWO friends who are graduating a year early from college and going to grad school this fall. They will be 22 with master's degrees. And I'm totally throwing a pity-party, my apologies, but I wish that I was as motivated as they are regarding academia.

I really want a degree in something Mass. Comm. related, but am starting to think that if I could just power through (and perhaps develop an addiction to Adderall) and get a degree in English or PoliSci and then get a master's in another city in something Mass. Comm. related. It would be more economical. That's what I'm telling myself, for now.

Even if the people here are terrible drivers, and generally incompetent, I've made it this long, I can tough it out a while longer.