- Just because an elevator door is shiny and reflective like a mirror, that does not mean that you should actually use it as a mirror to get a close-up examination of that weird spot on your nose. Because if you're not paying attention and the door opens up while you're doing so, you may terrify the harmless people who are attempting to board the elevator and are instead confronted by your giant face right at the door.
- (But really, if instead you're one of those harmless people, how's about you leave some space for people who are on the elevator to get out, hm? I'm not saying that you deserved a huge helping of Jason-face right up close and personal, but I refuse to take all the blame.)
- There is a key and vital difference between the phrase "virtually free" and the word free. Focus on that difference before signing anything, or spending a lot of time with a salesman using such phrases. Because they are trying to rip you off.
- If you're having fun at a bar people-watching, particularly the one guy who is hitting on the female bouncer in an hilarious/depressing manner, be very careful to watch yourself. Because you never know when said guy is going to choke on his drink due to a vigorous bout of dancing and be compelled to spit on the sidewalk, coincidentally right where your unguarded foot may be. Alternately, ignoring all the rest of the above, just never wear flip-flops to a bar.
- Also, maybe you should go get a tetanus shot. And an STD test. Because seriously, gross.
Tuesday, August 26, 2008
Words of Warning
Because I am terrible at blogging nowadays, I present a bullet style list of warnings that I wish I had read prior to the last 5 days. It would have saved me a ton of grief.
Wednesday, August 20, 2008
Raindrops from the Ceiling
It seems like I sure do complain about my apartment a lot, doesn't it? I swear, every third post nowadays has me whining about something going wrong over there. Really it's not too bad, I love the square footage, I've gotten used to the strange layout, and I really love the fake wood floors.
But today I want to talk about the fact that our air conditioner is totally trying to drive me insane.
It's not that it doesn't work - well okay, it sort of is that it doesn't work, since it doesn't actually circulate air all the way into my bathroom at the far side of my house, which makes relieving yourself a weirdly sweaty experience. Wait, that went to a strange place.
Regroup: It's not that the air conditioner doesn't work, it's just that it gathers condensation very easily. In order to combat this condensation, there is an overflow pipe that drains out under the house, and as a backup there's a secondary overflow that hangs directly over the kitchen sink, just in case the pipe isn't getting the job done. Usually this just means that at the height of summer we may have a little water dripping into the sink. It's mildly annoying, but nothing I can't handle.
This summer though, something is seriously wrong with the overflow pipe, which has resulted in a near constant stream of water splashing into our sink. It's loud. And unending. And it gets everywhere, as the splash radius is out of control. Then, not only was the water using the secondary pipe over the sink, the water even started leaking out of the corner of the access panel to the air conditioner.
Have you heard of water torture, where your interrogators drip water on your forehead slowly forever until you go mad? This is how I feel, except it's not so much on my forehead as it is an unending irregular beat on the linoleum floor and steel sink in my kitchen. Constantly, the drip-tink-drip-drip-splash-drip-tink-splash. Forever. Even when the air conditioner is off.
Finally unable to take it anymore, we had the landlord bring out a handyman to flush the pipes in order to get the insanity to stop. When he opened the panel to a huge rush of water that flooded the kitchen, I held little hope that he would affect much change. But I will give him credit, after blowing out the pipes, there is much less dripping and it's eliminated all but the sink pipe problem, which is reduced.
Still, it haunts me.
Thus, I have fashioned the most awesome piece of in-house ingenuity that has ever been created. It's a washing machine hose that covers the pipe opening and then snakes down along the wall to the side of the sink, where the water harmlessly dribbles down the drain, without a single sound.
Sure, it looks like the most ghetto, half-assed thing in the world. And hangs down terribly awkwardly, completely dominating your field of vision when you walk into the room. And at night in the darkness and shadow of the light filtered from the living room, it may look like a huge tentacled monster about to pounce on your head. (I said it "may" look like that, not that that exact train of thought went through my head. And it especially did not do so two nights ago, to the point where I actually shrieked and did a sort of crouch-and-roll in the kitchen at 1:00 AM. Ahem.)
Oh, and also, I had no good way to attach the hose to the pipe, and thus have rigged up an elaborate device to hold it in place. Which is made up of at least: a nail hammered into the ceiling, several lengths of nylon string, a paperclip, and a surprisingly large amount of sticky tack adhesive gum.
But whatever. Let's focus on the fact that I no longer have to deal with the constant drip-drip-dripping.
You've all read the Tell-Tale Heart, you know how this whole thing would have ended without my contraption.
But today I want to talk about the fact that our air conditioner is totally trying to drive me insane.
It's not that it doesn't work - well okay, it sort of is that it doesn't work, since it doesn't actually circulate air all the way into my bathroom at the far side of my house, which makes relieving yourself a weirdly sweaty experience. Wait, that went to a strange place.
Regroup: It's not that the air conditioner doesn't work, it's just that it gathers condensation very easily. In order to combat this condensation, there is an overflow pipe that drains out under the house, and as a backup there's a secondary overflow that hangs directly over the kitchen sink, just in case the pipe isn't getting the job done. Usually this just means that at the height of summer we may have a little water dripping into the sink. It's mildly annoying, but nothing I can't handle.
This summer though, something is seriously wrong with the overflow pipe, which has resulted in a near constant stream of water splashing into our sink. It's loud. And unending. And it gets everywhere, as the splash radius is out of control. Then, not only was the water using the secondary pipe over the sink, the water even started leaking out of the corner of the access panel to the air conditioner.
Have you heard of water torture, where your interrogators drip water on your forehead slowly forever until you go mad? This is how I feel, except it's not so much on my forehead as it is an unending irregular beat on the linoleum floor and steel sink in my kitchen. Constantly, the drip-tink-drip-drip-splash-drip-tink-splash. Forever. Even when the air conditioner is off.
Finally unable to take it anymore, we had the landlord bring out a handyman to flush the pipes in order to get the insanity to stop. When he opened the panel to a huge rush of water that flooded the kitchen, I held little hope that he would affect much change. But I will give him credit, after blowing out the pipes, there is much less dripping and it's eliminated all but the sink pipe problem, which is reduced.
Still, it haunts me.
Thus, I have fashioned the most awesome piece of in-house ingenuity that has ever been created. It's a washing machine hose that covers the pipe opening and then snakes down along the wall to the side of the sink, where the water harmlessly dribbles down the drain, without a single sound.
Sure, it looks like the most ghetto, half-assed thing in the world. And hangs down terribly awkwardly, completely dominating your field of vision when you walk into the room. And at night in the darkness and shadow of the light filtered from the living room, it may look like a huge tentacled monster about to pounce on your head. (I said it "may" look like that, not that that exact train of thought went through my head. And it especially did not do so two nights ago, to the point where I actually shrieked and did a sort of crouch-and-roll in the kitchen at 1:00 AM. Ahem.)
Oh, and also, I had no good way to attach the hose to the pipe, and thus have rigged up an elaborate device to hold it in place. Which is made up of at least: a nail hammered into the ceiling, several lengths of nylon string, a paperclip, and a surprisingly large amount of sticky tack adhesive gum.
But whatever. Let's focus on the fact that I no longer have to deal with the constant drip-drip-dripping.
You've all read the Tell-Tale Heart, you know how this whole thing would have ended without my contraption.
Thursday, August 14, 2008
Groundbreaking Belligerent & Numerous Olympic Coverage
Okay, so the title's a bit hyperbolic.
Because seriously, I don't know why, but I just have no interest whatsoever in the summer Olympics this year. I tried at first - saw parts of that wild and crazy opening ceremony, then sort of listened in when they were breaking down when which events would happen. And I was totally into it when they showed the early badminton rounds right there on one of the major stations. It definitely revived my lifelong (or since senior year of college) dream of becoming a world-renowned badminton player, but very quickly my interest in the rest of games evaporated. Mostly under piles of sports I couldn't care less about, and touching human interest stories that, as the great Kent Brockman so eloquently once put it, 'pull at the heartstrings and fog the mind.'
AND THEN, once I had already renounced the games, there was that horrible thing with the weightlifter and the destroyed arm (don't go looking for it, I beg you), which I managed to see despite only turning on a TV once this week (and to watch Project Runway, at that). Why the news broadcast that is shown in my office lobby felt the need to give us a slow-mo replay of that is completely beyond my comprehension. But thanks MSNBC. I'm glad that rather than finding out what the Dow was at, I got to view the utter destruction of a man's elbow. That was swell.
Anyways, to recap: not only did I not care about the Olympics, I was actively disgusted with them.
But leave it to network TV to pull out all the stops in finding a way to pique my interest again:
NBC challenge - Guess the Olympic swimmer based on his abs.
Well played NBC. Well played.
Because seriously, I don't know why, but I just have no interest whatsoever in the summer Olympics this year. I tried at first - saw parts of that wild and crazy opening ceremony, then sort of listened in when they were breaking down when which events would happen. And I was totally into it when they showed the early badminton rounds right there on one of the major stations. It definitely revived my lifelong (or since senior year of college) dream of becoming a world-renowned badminton player, but very quickly my interest in the rest of games evaporated. Mostly under piles of sports I couldn't care less about, and touching human interest stories that, as the great Kent Brockman so eloquently once put it, 'pull at the heartstrings and fog the mind.'
AND THEN, once I had already renounced the games, there was that horrible thing with the weightlifter and the destroyed arm (don't go looking for it, I beg you), which I managed to see despite only turning on a TV once this week (and to watch Project Runway, at that). Why the news broadcast that is shown in my office lobby felt the need to give us a slow-mo replay of that is completely beyond my comprehension. But thanks MSNBC. I'm glad that rather than finding out what the Dow was at, I got to view the utter destruction of a man's elbow. That was swell.
Anyways, to recap: not only did I not care about the Olympics, I was actively disgusted with them.
But leave it to network TV to pull out all the stops in finding a way to pique my interest again:
NBC challenge - Guess the Olympic swimmer based on his abs.
Well played NBC. Well played.
Wednesday, August 13, 2008
Counting Down From 100
Apropos to the height of summer (when you're most likely to find yourself outdoors without a shirt on) I had been looking for a new exercise program that I could get into without killing myself, and/or incurring the cost of a gym membership.
I was ready to despair and start pricing out exactly how many years of debt I would accrue by signing up with various local gyms, until I ran across this lovely website, One Hundred Push Ups. It completes me in every exercisable way possible.
It has the benefits of exercising without, y'know, actually exercising longer than 10 minutes every other day. Which is pretty sweet. And it's gotten me to the point where I feel like I can move on to a full-on exercise program without potentially dying halfway through.
I completely forget what the point of this post was at this point, so I guess this is just a shill post: Go exercise. And if you're like me and don't want to, just do this thing. It's easy and awesome.
(Side note: still not going outdoors without my shirt on, though. People around The Village are way too attractive. Bums me out. Also, still wildly pale as they haven't fixed the pool in my complex yet. Maybe next summer.)
I was ready to despair and start pricing out exactly how many years of debt I would accrue by signing up with various local gyms, until I ran across this lovely website, One Hundred Push Ups. It completes me in every exercisable way possible.
- Takes almost no time whatsoever
- Can be done in the privacy of your own bedroom
- Is simple to do
- Has measurable results that are quick and easily recognizable
- Did I mention that it takes practically no time at all?
It has the benefits of exercising without, y'know, actually exercising longer than 10 minutes every other day. Which is pretty sweet. And it's gotten me to the point where I feel like I can move on to a full-on exercise program without potentially dying halfway through.
I completely forget what the point of this post was at this point, so I guess this is just a shill post: Go exercise. And if you're like me and don't want to, just do this thing. It's easy and awesome.
(Side note: still not going outdoors without my shirt on, though. People around The Village are way too attractive. Bums me out. Also, still wildly pale as they haven't fixed the pool in my complex yet. Maybe next summer.)
Tuesday, August 12, 2008
Oxymoron and Vehicle Bands
So last night we went to see The Hush Sound over at The Door (what used to be The Gypsy Tea Room). I was a little worried at first. A) It's a Monday night concert, B) I've never heard of any of the opening bands except in passing, and C) I really don't know how well The Hush Sound would actually sound in concert, as their albums are full of super produced songs.
Surprisingly, though, it was a pretty great show. Full details below the cut (along with a couple of youtube videos).
So there were 4 bands up for the show: The Morning Light, Steel Train, The Cab, and The Hush Sound.
First band was supposed to go on at 7:30, so we figured it would be at least a couple of hours before The Hush Sound. But since I love going to gape at the potential horror that is opening bands, we got there before 8:00, with enough time to catch most of The Morning Light's set to start off the night.
I, uh, would like to follow the old adage about one's inability to say nice things, but I feel like some comment is in order. Umm, the drummer was really energetic, which was fun. And the lead singer got to use a tamborine, which he obviously enjoyed. So good for them.
Okay, it wasn't great - kinda like a Taking Back Sunday sort of vibe, crossed with some Death Cab, only not quite in tune, and not quite able to nail down the art of alternating between scream-singing and regular singing. But at least they were quick.
The delightfully named Steel Train was next, and I'm not even going to pretend to be objective here - I loooooved this set. I had never heard of these people before, but from the very first second the lead singer started up with his crazy eyes, they had me hooked. I am not kidding in the slightest. Dude looked about 2 degrees from just murdering everyone in the crowd, but damn if they didn't put on one of the best opening sets I've ever seen. Polished, musical, a little crazy, I was all the way onboard. And then there was the Mamma Mia singalong section which lost me for a moment, but their closer got me right back on track with enough heavy drums to shake the foundations of my brain. Complete love.
Then things got weird.
So, supposedly The Cab is next. Which I have heard of before, but in my mind I had associated a whiny emo band with this name. Instead we get an afro-ed Christian Siriano look-alike playing an acoustic guitar and an oily longhaired dude in a wifebeater, singing random warbling songs, interspersed with nsync covers. I swear to God, it was like the most unexpected thing.
Mostly because it turns out that they kind of are a whiny emo band (okay, less whiny than most, they aren't that bad) but they were missing half their members and all of the band part.
Whatever, it was weird, but not horrible. The guitarist was actually a shockingly great player with some nice pitch, and the Timberlake-wannabe had a pretty good voice, while doing hand gestures to mimic the lyrics he was singing. If questioned at gunpoint, I would admit that it was actually kind of entertaining. And when the guy behind us yelled "Do Sexyback!" I about lost my shit. Good times.
And then there was The Hush Sound. Who were actually really good, despite a bit of soundcheck issues (I swear the lead mic was too quiet by at least half). They're fun, and pretty energetic despite obviously being crazy exhausted. Various highlights:
A few of videos from the night:
The weird Mamma Mia Interlude from Steel Train:
The Cab(ish) - I'll Run:
The Hush Sound and Steel Train doing I Want You Back:
Surprisingly, though, it was a pretty great show. Full details below the cut (along with a couple of youtube videos).
So there were 4 bands up for the show: The Morning Light, Steel Train, The Cab, and The Hush Sound.
First band was supposed to go on at 7:30, so we figured it would be at least a couple of hours before The Hush Sound. But since I love going to gape at the potential horror that is opening bands, we got there before 8:00, with enough time to catch most of The Morning Light's set to start off the night.
I, uh, would like to follow the old adage about one's inability to say nice things, but I feel like some comment is in order. Umm, the drummer was really energetic, which was fun. And the lead singer got to use a tamborine, which he obviously enjoyed. So good for them.
Okay, it wasn't great - kinda like a Taking Back Sunday sort of vibe, crossed with some Death Cab, only not quite in tune, and not quite able to nail down the art of alternating between scream-singing and regular singing. But at least they were quick.
The delightfully named Steel Train was next, and I'm not even going to pretend to be objective here - I loooooved this set. I had never heard of these people before, but from the very first second the lead singer started up with his crazy eyes, they had me hooked. I am not kidding in the slightest. Dude looked about 2 degrees from just murdering everyone in the crowd, but damn if they didn't put on one of the best opening sets I've ever seen. Polished, musical, a little crazy, I was all the way onboard. And then there was the Mamma Mia singalong section which lost me for a moment, but their closer got me right back on track with enough heavy drums to shake the foundations of my brain. Complete love.
Then things got weird.
So, supposedly The Cab is next. Which I have heard of before, but in my mind I had associated a whiny emo band with this name. Instead we get an afro-ed Christian Siriano look-alike playing an acoustic guitar and an oily longhaired dude in a wifebeater, singing random warbling songs, interspersed with nsync covers. I swear to God, it was like the most unexpected thing.
Mostly because it turns out that they kind of are a whiny emo band (okay, less whiny than most, they aren't that bad) but they were missing half their members and all of the band part.
Whatever, it was weird, but not horrible. The guitarist was actually a shockingly great player with some nice pitch, and the Timberlake-wannabe had a pretty good voice, while doing hand gestures to mimic the lyrics he was singing. If questioned at gunpoint, I would admit that it was actually kind of entertaining. And when the guy behind us yelled "Do Sexyback!" I about lost my shit. Good times.
And then there was The Hush Sound. Who were actually really good, despite a bit of soundcheck issues (I swear the lead mic was too quiet by at least half). They're fun, and pretty energetic despite obviously being crazy exhausted. Various highlights:
- The drummer nearly killing himself with a microphone in the first song by being the most hyper drummer in the history of bands. I thought he was going to rattle the flimsy stage into pieces with his hopping and bopping around.
- The completely out of left field cover of Back in the USSR, which is just a great song in general.
- The attempt at bandmember banter, where the lead girl was obviously far too tired to care, and just stopped to stare at the bass player for 20 seconds rather than give a response to his zinger. I don't know if it was supposed to be, but it was damn hilarious.
- Oh, and the cover of the Jackson 5's Want You Back. A good night for covers (the nsync excepted) all around.
A few of videos from the night:
The weird Mamma Mia Interlude from Steel Train:
The Cab(ish) - I'll Run:
The Hush Sound and Steel Train doing I Want You Back:
Monday, August 11, 2008
There are Worse Things than Consumer Weekends
Jason Finance Watch for August
Things Bought:
And also, my bed is now so awesome, it's hard to fathom. And I did it without resorting to spending scads of money on a whole new mattress (which I also really wanted to buy).
Woo consumerism!
Things Bought:
- New wireless mouse, complete with scrollwheel and magical laser tracking
- DVDs of Cloverfield and X-2, on super sale at Best Buy
- New full size memory foam mattress pad for bed, replacing previous pad that was only for a twin (and also gross and ancient)
- New 500 thread count sheet set for bed to enhance new pad (and replace the jersey knit sheets that were suffocating me at night)
- New down comforter to enhance new sheet set
- Tickets to go see The Hush Sound at The Door tonight (!!)
- Insurance for my car for the next 6 months (also entitled: Holy Shit, Insurance is Expensive)
- New wireless keyboard to replace my still working wired one
- DVD of A Bug's Life, which was only on $5 off sale
- New pillows to go with abovementioned bed set
- New duvet cover for same
- New bedskirt to prevent clashing
- Tickets to see Ben Folds in October at the Palladium
- The oil change for my car that was scheduled for last Friday
- A dog
And also, my bed is now so awesome, it's hard to fathom. And I did it without resorting to spending scads of money on a whole new mattress (which I also really wanted to buy).
Woo consumerism!
Friday, August 08, 2008
Filler Friday
An amalgamation of the things rattling through my head today:
- So, my mouse died two days ago. I should clarify that to be a computer mouse, not a pet mouse that I might have had, or one that was living in my house against my will. I guess 6 years is an appropriate lifespan for a mouse, but I still miss it. Particularly since I went to three different stores and couldn't find a single mouse that was of comparable quality that did not cost over $60 dollars.
Instead, I had to resort to online shopping, and due to shipping times I have spent the last 2 days using my backup mouse (AKA, the original Dell mouse that came with my boss's 1994 desktop computer, which I have in my closet for some reason.) Do you remember what mice were like in 1994? It's terrifying. I will never take my scroll wheel for granted again. - In that Fergie song Glamorous, the line is "After the Grammys, I like to go out with my family/Sipping, reminiscing on days when I had a Mustang."
It's not "when I had a mustache," as I had so remembered it in my mind. I don't know why this bothers me, but it does. Also, I'm not sure which part bothers me more - that I remembered it wrong in the first place, or the fact that I never questioned why she used to have a mustache.
. . . I don't know, leave me alone, I'm tired. - I went to the automated car wash yesterday because my Jaguar looked like it had been through a sandstorm, after the last mini-rainstorm we had that knocked the remaining pollen from that devil tree outside my apartment. In line in front of me was a truck that had one of those huge bike mounts attached to the back. When the flailing wheels of scrubbers tried to clean the back gate of the truck, the left flailer got lodged in the mount, and in retaliation for this, the entire machine attempted to drag the truck off the track and into the shadowy recesses to the side. Eventually the flailer was dislodged without destroying itself or eating the truck, so normally this wouldn't even be a story worth relating.
But apparently the owner of said truck must have had some super deep seated fear of automated car washes, because he absolutely lost his shit when the machine got stuck and started pulling against the truck. Not like angry losing it, like scared losing it - huge terrified look on his face as if a T-Rex was gnawing on the back end of the car, what looked like a shriek of horror, and then randomly slamming his hands down on his horn. As if maybe the mechanical cleaning device would be all "Oh, a loud noise, I should stop what I'm doing."
It was definitely the strangest thing I've seen in at least 5 days. - So I've been rewatching the third season of How I Met Your Mother (because I have absolutely no life, and scheduled TV is junk right now) and it's so strange. It's got to be the most wildly uneven single season of TV I've ever seen, short of the 5th season of Buffy. Some utterly garbage episodes, immediately beside others that qualify as some of the best in the whole series. I think the strike worked really hard against them, but I'm still not sure if that's a sufficient excuse. But anyways, the real thing I want to talk about is how shockingly sad the whole Barney/Ted breakup thing is over those last few episodes of the season. It was actually kind of moving, which is just super weird. So help me if Neil Patrick Harris does not win that Emmy.
- Oh, and in conjunction with that, have I recently mentioned my ungodly crush on the NPH? Because damn. And it's just been further increased by the whole Dr. Horrible Sing-along Blog thing, in which he is just too perfect for words, and is also terribly cute, and is also the saddest thing I've seen since Atonement.
I refuse to get suckered in by Joss Whedon ever again. I have a little post-it now right next to my computer. It reads "Don't trust Whedon when love is involved. It's going to end horribly and you're going to cry." And then there's a little picture I drew of a sad faced beaver next to a tombstone.
Wednesday, August 06, 2008
Write What You Know
Man, I had this whole thing planned out, where I could write an entry that would combine two stories that I wanted to tell into one, and it would be interesting and compelling. (yeah, right, but let's let me have my delusion how 'bout?)
Instead I'm going to whine about health care for a little while and then call it a day.
Because sweet damn, I have the most ungodly headache going on, and it's been like this for 36 hours straight. My allergies have apparently taken to just lying in wait for 3-4 month periods, before deciding to mount a full on hostile takeover of my entire body for a quick, if utterly crushing, 3 or 4 day allergy-fest. I don't think I've had a single sinus related headache since February, and now suddenly I can't even get a bright light in my peripheral vision, for the fear that it will send me off on an epic sneezing adventure that will continue until my body quite literally shuts down from the spikes of pain between my eyes (This happened twice yesterday. Why my office has such blinding lights is complete beyond me).
Now normally, I would just go to the doctor for an allergy shot, as I used to find a $55 expense a completely reasonable trade off for the ability to become a functional member of society again. But due to the restructuring of my employment, I'm now on an individual health care plan. Which is a very cute way of saying that I have absolutely no coverage for anything that is not a life threatening hospital visit.
So what used to be $55 is now more like $347, and that's assuming it's just an allergy attack and not actually a sinus infection, the thought of which I immediately banish. Lab costs are a thing invented by the devil to sap both my will to live and any potential that I had of actually getting to buy a new bed before the end of the year.
But anyways, on to the real whining!
Why, in God's name, is it so expensive to see a doctor? Or more helpfully, why is it impossible to get regular health coverage as a singular person that doesn't cost more than $500 a month? It's not like I'm a health risk. I go to the doctor approximately twice a year, and both times it's for this allergy shot. The only hospital visit I've ever had was 2 years ago (the whole epic trial that was my little finger's battle with sharp dishes). There's no one out there who's willing to take on that little liability for less than $6,144 (the reigning champ for lowest HMO bid I got from 11 different insurance companies)?
My mind, it boggles. Or it would boggle, if it could do anything but throb wildly with pain.
----------------
Ugh. But we shall think positive thoughts. Maybe tomorrow this will have all resolved itself and we can get back to the original plan of this totally being my month.
Instead I'm going to whine about health care for a little while and then call it a day.
Because sweet damn, I have the most ungodly headache going on, and it's been like this for 36 hours straight. My allergies have apparently taken to just lying in wait for 3-4 month periods, before deciding to mount a full on hostile takeover of my entire body for a quick, if utterly crushing, 3 or 4 day allergy-fest. I don't think I've had a single sinus related headache since February, and now suddenly I can't even get a bright light in my peripheral vision, for the fear that it will send me off on an epic sneezing adventure that will continue until my body quite literally shuts down from the spikes of pain between my eyes (This happened twice yesterday. Why my office has such blinding lights is complete beyond me).
Now normally, I would just go to the doctor for an allergy shot, as I used to find a $55 expense a completely reasonable trade off for the ability to become a functional member of society again. But due to the restructuring of my employment, I'm now on an individual health care plan. Which is a very cute way of saying that I have absolutely no coverage for anything that is not a life threatening hospital visit.
So what used to be $55 is now more like $347, and that's assuming it's just an allergy attack and not actually a sinus infection, the thought of which I immediately banish. Lab costs are a thing invented by the devil to sap both my will to live and any potential that I had of actually getting to buy a new bed before the end of the year.
But anyways, on to the real whining!
Why, in God's name, is it so expensive to see a doctor? Or more helpfully, why is it impossible to get regular health coverage as a singular person that doesn't cost more than $500 a month? It's not like I'm a health risk. I go to the doctor approximately twice a year, and both times it's for this allergy shot. The only hospital visit I've ever had was 2 years ago (the whole epic trial that was my little finger's battle with sharp dishes). There's no one out there who's willing to take on that little liability for less than $6,144 (the reigning champ for lowest HMO bid I got from 11 different insurance companies)?
My mind, it boggles. Or it would boggle, if it could do anything but throb wildly with pain.
----------------
Ugh. But we shall think positive thoughts. Maybe tomorrow this will have all resolved itself and we can get back to the original plan of this totally being my month.
Tuesday, August 05, 2008
Angry Torch-wielding Homeowners
In my apartment complex's never-ending quest to annoy me to the point of madness, they have hit upon the best way to drive me from happiness to rage faster than I believed possible. Namely, the entrance gate immediately outside my building has started malfunctioning.
But wait, malfunctioning doesn't quite cover it. What's it called when you think something is maliciously not working on purpose? Sabotage.
Yes, that's it. I think the gate is actively trying to sabotage my happiness. Because sometimes it works. I push the little button on my keyring, and the gate magically slides open. This happens approximately once in every 5 attempts, just enough for me to keep trying it, even though it probably won't. To make things worse, there's no rhyme or reason to when it will open. Sometimes in the mornings, the keyring won't work, but if I get my car all the way up to the gate to leave, it will start opening. Other mornings, the keyring works from all the way at my front door (rarely). Then the next time I try it (like this morning) not only does the keyring not work, getting up right next to the gate won't trigger the opening either, and I have to drive all the way around to the main gate.
Repeat those same options for every other time of the day (coming home from work, coming home late after a movie, leaving in the afternoon to go on an ice cream run, etc.) and vary the responses completely at random, and you start to get the idea of the roulette wheel that has become my attempts to leave or enter my apartment complex. But again, the randomness seems to have a darker edge - it's more likely not to work when I'm particularly late, or in a bad mood, or generally exhausted. And the time it's most likely to not work at all? When I'm in an okay mood, but just need one more thing to push me right into an official bad mood. This gate is sentient, and it's vicious.
"Well Jason," you say. "Why not just use the main gate all the time then? Why subject yourself to torture at the hands of an evil incarnate mechanical fence when there is a reasonable alternative right there available?"
Because, blog person, the other option (the main gate) is very far away. Like, several dozen feet. And if I want to let someone into the main gate, it involves putting on shoes (and probably clothes too, since I'm pretty brief with outfits in my house, since it's 100s of degrees in Texas right now) and actually walking those feet myself, to get in keyring range of said gate. Plus, there are stairs involved! 6 of them! Alternatively, if I go to let someone into the gate by my building, the most I have to walk is the 10 feet into my living room (clothing optional).
And if I'm the one going in or out, I have to traverse the Speed Bumps of Inappropriate Size and Placement, AKA the driveway that wraps around my building. Seriously, I have never met speed bumps so poorly constructed and placed in my life. They look like they were built by 8 year-olds playing with modeling clay - little snakes across the drive that vary in height and texture. I care way too much about the underside of my beautiful car than I care to admit, but even I will allow that I'll do everything in my power to avoid ever driving over those things, up to and including throwing a little temper tantrum inside my car and scaring the kids next door.
But yeah, I'm not the only one who has this really powerful anger towards the capriciously mean gate - all my neighbors have been slowly simmering with their rage, and they're just about to boil over. Yesterday, when I got home I tried to come in the near gate, but it wouldn't open. My next door neighbor was immediately behind me in the drive coming in, and thus he had to back up directly into traffic in order for us to get to the main gate. After a very near crash with a DART bus making a questionably illegal left turn, he made it home, but upon getting out of his car he unleashed a string of obscenities that was impressive even to me, a person who conjugates new forms of the word fuck daily.
When you combine this latest problem with the lack of gas for 4 months earlier this year, the interruption of mail for 4 days last week, and the continued closure of the apartment pool due to lack of working pump, I can practically feel the rage of my neighbors seeping through the walls. Because did I already mention the heat? You don't deprive people of their only source of cool water when you can fry an egg on the concrete outside their front door. A gate that thwarts you at every turn is the last straw that may very well break our collective camel's back, to twist a metaphor beyond recognition.
I'm just waiting for the night when a mob of angry homeowners comes a'knocking, rousing me to come join them on their quest to overthrow the homeowners association president who lives at the top of the hill.
Why else would I have this pitchfork lying next to the front door?
But wait, malfunctioning doesn't quite cover it. What's it called when you think something is maliciously not working on purpose? Sabotage.
Yes, that's it. I think the gate is actively trying to sabotage my happiness. Because sometimes it works. I push the little button on my keyring, and the gate magically slides open. This happens approximately once in every 5 attempts, just enough for me to keep trying it, even though it probably won't. To make things worse, there's no rhyme or reason to when it will open. Sometimes in the mornings, the keyring won't work, but if I get my car all the way up to the gate to leave, it will start opening. Other mornings, the keyring works from all the way at my front door (rarely). Then the next time I try it (like this morning) not only does the keyring not work, getting up right next to the gate won't trigger the opening either, and I have to drive all the way around to the main gate.
Repeat those same options for every other time of the day (coming home from work, coming home late after a movie, leaving in the afternoon to go on an ice cream run, etc.) and vary the responses completely at random, and you start to get the idea of the roulette wheel that has become my attempts to leave or enter my apartment complex. But again, the randomness seems to have a darker edge - it's more likely not to work when I'm particularly late, or in a bad mood, or generally exhausted. And the time it's most likely to not work at all? When I'm in an okay mood, but just need one more thing to push me right into an official bad mood. This gate is sentient, and it's vicious.
"Well Jason," you say. "Why not just use the main gate all the time then? Why subject yourself to torture at the hands of an evil incarnate mechanical fence when there is a reasonable alternative right there available?"
Because, blog person, the other option (the main gate) is very far away. Like, several dozen feet. And if I want to let someone into the main gate, it involves putting on shoes (and probably clothes too, since I'm pretty brief with outfits in my house, since it's 100s of degrees in Texas right now) and actually walking those feet myself, to get in keyring range of said gate. Plus, there are stairs involved! 6 of them! Alternatively, if I go to let someone into the gate by my building, the most I have to walk is the 10 feet into my living room (clothing optional).
And if I'm the one going in or out, I have to traverse the Speed Bumps of Inappropriate Size and Placement, AKA the driveway that wraps around my building. Seriously, I have never met speed bumps so poorly constructed and placed in my life. They look like they were built by 8 year-olds playing with modeling clay - little snakes across the drive that vary in height and texture. I care way too much about the underside of my beautiful car than I care to admit, but even I will allow that I'll do everything in my power to avoid ever driving over those things, up to and including throwing a little temper tantrum inside my car and scaring the kids next door.
But yeah, I'm not the only one who has this really powerful anger towards the capriciously mean gate - all my neighbors have been slowly simmering with their rage, and they're just about to boil over. Yesterday, when I got home I tried to come in the near gate, but it wouldn't open. My next door neighbor was immediately behind me in the drive coming in, and thus he had to back up directly into traffic in order for us to get to the main gate. After a very near crash with a DART bus making a questionably illegal left turn, he made it home, but upon getting out of his car he unleashed a string of obscenities that was impressive even to me, a person who conjugates new forms of the word fuck daily.
When you combine this latest problem with the lack of gas for 4 months earlier this year, the interruption of mail for 4 days last week, and the continued closure of the apartment pool due to lack of working pump, I can practically feel the rage of my neighbors seeping through the walls. Because did I already mention the heat? You don't deprive people of their only source of cool water when you can fry an egg on the concrete outside their front door. A gate that thwarts you at every turn is the last straw that may very well break our collective camel's back, to twist a metaphor beyond recognition.
I'm just waiting for the night when a mob of angry homeowners comes a'knocking, rousing me to come join them on their quest to overthrow the homeowners association president who lives at the top of the hill.
Why else would I have this pitchfork lying next to the front door?
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