Long Time, No Blog

Well it's been an age since I wrote anything and not a whole lot has changed. Still at the same dead end job. I did get a promotion. Of course this "promotion" didn't include a raise, so essentially I took on more responsibility without better pay. Because I'm smart.

Still living in my craptastic apartment, but that is all about to change at the end of the month. I am (for the first time in my life) shacking up with a gentleman caller. And I'm doing it after knowing him for 4 months. What could go wrong?? The GC is quite swell and we're pretty sweet on one another, but pretty sure I'm equally excited and terrified. I love that I have my own little place to retreat to when the fuss starts to boil over. I love that if I choose not to shower for days on end (ok, usually just the weekend) I can wallow in my own filth without judgement. I can eat Totino's pizza, macaroni salad, a gallon of Pepsi and a tub of ice cream in front of the tube without having to worry the GC thinks I'm a total pig. And I absolutely LOVE that every Sunday I can buy a magnum of wine, drink the whole god damn thing and crack clean my apartment. What will the GC think when he comes home and I'm 3 sheets to the wind and scrubbing the floorboards with a toothbrush? Won't seeing me look like hell every morning take away from some of the magic? Do I have to walk into the other room to fart?

I guess I've just enjoyed living alone for the most part, but I'm looking forward to seeing how this all plays out. Plus he's got a back yard for Sir Stinks Too Much, and I'm planning on asking if we can get a chicken. Fresh eggs and no guilt, AWESOME.

Summertime And The Livin' Is Easy

Well it finally happened. The pool here at Crackhead Court opened. Granted it's almost August, but I suppose that's just how long it took to scrape up the funds to pay off the health department to overlook whatever codes they've been violating since last year that warranted the closing of the pool in the first place.

Nevertheless, I was delighted Saturday morning when out walking my mutt to see a sign saying the pool was open and in bliss to discover that apparently the future crackheads of the court had not yet pried themselves away from their Lucky Charms and Saturday morning cartoons to invade my watery oasis. I sprinted home, threw on my suit and poured myself a jug o' wine because everyone knows that under section 9B of the Sin City guide to health and living, cocktail hour begins promptly at 9:08 AM on the weekends during the summer months. It's FACT.

Save the occasional chatty Cathy passer-by, I had nothing but peace and quiet with only the lull of wailing sirens and whir of the I-95 to serve as background noise to my day dreaming. Unfortunately I seem to have enjoyed my pool and cocktail time a little too much because I now resemble a cherry tomato, just as plump and round and about the same color. Luckily I was wearing large sunglasses so the area around my eyes is still cracker white, if that wasn't the case I might have looked ridiculous.

If I were Kim hot......

The Dream Is Dead

Well that didn't take long. Once again my dreams of home ownership (and the 8K tax credit that would come along with it) have been dashed. See despite the fact that I am chronologically an adult, financially I am at best, a 7 year old with a paper route and allowance from mom. Well mom just got laid off after 20 years with her company. Thanks ASSHOLES. So no financial backing from mama means no home loan which means I am destined to live in my craphole apartment until I die, at which point my dog and cat will be forced to eat my rotting corpse in order to survive until someone notices I've gone missing. I'm thinking I better fatten up because that could take up to a month depending on how long it takes the neighbors to notice the stench or the management here at Crackhead Court to realize I haven't paid rent.




The actual photo used in the brochure for my complex:



Little piece of heaven huh?

I'm trying to stay positive. Telling myself all the bullshit lies people fall back on when things don't go their way. Just wasn't meant to be.....Something better will come along..... When one door closes another one opens....... God has a different plan in mind.... Well except for that last one because even I'm not delusional enough to buy into that.

When I'm not wasting time trying to convince myself that maybe, just maybe, my future doesn't consist solely of lonely nights filled only with cheap vodka and never ending tears, I'm trying to deal with the immense guilt I'm feeling due to the fact that after all the years my mom has helped me out, I cannot return the favor. Needless to say, I am in fact more fun than a barrel of monkeys these days. I'm hoping my own patented brand of self medication (IE alcohol, frozen pizza drowning in Ranch dressing and self pity) will eventually pull me out of my funk. Yep, this is the year, I can just feel it!!

Reality Is Indeed A Bitch

Hmmm...... So this is interesting. Apparently 100k doesn't get you quite the real estate it used to. And when I say "used to" I mean 1872 because that's about the last time someone with $100,000 could conceivably purchase a home that didn't smell like kitty piss and Bleu cheese.

On a side note, I think Kitty Piss would be a great name for a girl band.

My dreams of mansion living have been a bit dashed at this point as it looks as though this:

may be a bit more in my price range. Only without the yard because Vegas landscaping consists of 4 square feet of rocks. My future back yard:

Think I'll put the BBQ riiiight there

But I cannot be deterred. I am not made for apartment living, what with having the ability to hear, a fondness of protecting personal property and of course my disdain of human interaction. Although I will miss the roaches, excuse me "water bugs" as Las Vegians prefer to call them.

Last weekend I actually witnessed my dumbass of a neighbor yelling at his dog to do his business.I shit you not, while bending over and pointing at this poor, scared little creature, he told the dog "You can either go now, or not at all, it's YOUR decision". Well that's just fucking brilliant. Because everyone knows dogs are very rational creatures, so I'm sure as soon as the dog took a minute to consider how inconsiderate his lack of pooping in a timely manner was to his owner, he complied without future incident. This guy should be presented to anyone who believes abortion should be illegal.

So call U-haul, I gots to be moving on. I may end up living in an outhouse, but it will be my outhouse, complete with plumbing issues and HOA fees. Good times.

Movin' On Up

Holy Christ it happened. I GOT A HOME LOAN!!! With the help of my mom, because after all I am 32 and while some would consider a person my age to be an adult (at least the police and IRS certainly seem to) anyone who knows me is aware of the fact that I am incapable of being financially independent from my mother. So no surprise she had to cosign.

I suck with a capital BLOW.

Think of me when contemplating having kids. BAD idea.

I am really the happiest girl in the whole world right now. In a few short months I'll get to give a big ol F-U to the my shit hole apartment complex and the stupid heifer that stomps around over my head day and night. I'm pretty sure my new place is going to look a little something like this:

A little ostentatious I know, but with a whole 100k to spend, can you blame me?

Mariachi Madness

In case anyone was wondering what I was hearing through the ceiling last night......

Too Old for Da Club

This last weekend I did the unthinkable, something I swore I'd never do again. But just like Pampered Chef party's and helping someone move, I took one for the team and it resulted in my tired old ass shuffling into the goddamn club. What club? Donno, don't care they're all the same.

Hundreds of twenty somethings with too much make-up and too little clothing trying so desperately to look hot. It's dance floors packed with stumbling gyrating bimbo's getting dry humped by frat boys in town from Oklahoma. It's multiple bars with giant clusterfucks of people 5 deep waiting 20 minutes to pay $17 for a cocktail from the only 2 bartenders working. Too many numbers? Yeah I thought so too. Let me do the math for you. Multiply 5 + 20 - 15 divided by 2 = get me the FUCK out of here before I start punching shit.

Don't get me wrong, I've done the club thing and it was fun for a while. But I've been over it now for quite a few years and I really couldn't be happier with my decision. (As are the guys that for whatever reason aren't into dirty old ladies ogling their young sexy asses, but I digress) That's why I was slightly shocked when my girlfriend who was turning 29 decided to go clubbing the entire weekend she was in town. I suppose 29 is still 20's but really I think anything over 25 is pushing it. Whatever, I stayed the obligatory 25 minutes and then did what any little old lady would do, drove home (blinker on the whole way) cracked open a nice can of Ensure and slipped in season 2 of my Matlock DVDs. That Andy Griffith sure is a dreamboat....