Tuesday, March 29, 2005

How to catch a mouse

1. Watch mouse stroll across the room and behind the TV

2. Scream, “Oh my God. Oh my God. Oh my God” to friend on the phone.

3. Sit on the couch and stare at the area around TV

4. Watch mouse try to escape and chicken out

5. When husband gets home, tell him about mouse

6. Watch mouse shoot out and into the spare bedroom

7. Shout “Oh my God! There’s the mouse!”

8. Jump up and follow mouse

9. Put down plastic bags in doorway

10. Tell husband plastic bags won’t catch the mouse

11. Scare mouse out of dark corner

12. Watch as it runs straight into one of the bags

13. Grab bag and twist it shut as husband stands there telling you "Don't let the mouse get away!"

14. Hand over bag/mouse and say “That was fun! Let’s do it again!”

15. Take bag/mouse a mile away from the house next to someone else’s house

16. Say “I can’t believe we caught a mouse in a plastic bag” and laugh

17. Repeat step 16 for the rest of the night

Thursday, March 24, 2005

Hey, federal government! Read this:

I think I mentioned something about this in an earlier post, but here is the whole story and some recent developments.

My husband moved into our house almost three years ago. His parents lived here and he bought it from them when they bought another, bigger house. Instead of transferring their loan into his name, he stupidly continued paying their loan. I’m not sure why he did this, but I think it has something to do with being told that it was the best thing to do. Anyway, this has caused lots of problems for him, from me bitching about it a lot to the PILs thinking this house is still theirs.

The biggest problem, for me anyway, is his mom not wanting to give this place up. She pretended she still lived here until just a few months ago. She got her mail here, she cleaned up the yard and cut things down without even asking. Before that, she came here ALL THE TIME, took showers here, hung out on her work break, etc. I slowly ended that. I’m so evil.

Not only did she also refuse to change her address, she used our address for new credit cards and all kinds of things. We got all of their credit card bills here, new and old, their bank statements, their W2’s, and anything and everything that didn’t directly have to do with their new house. But I’m sure that’s only because it HAD to be sent there instead of here.

In November or December, I was so sick of getting their mail and asking them to change their address and Jose having to take their mail to them almost everyday, that I wrote “Please forward to: PIL’s address” on all the envelopes and put them back in the mail.

OHHH, you would have thought I sent them hate mail or threw their shit away. I was so rude for doing that. It was fucked up. Why couldn’t we just keep bringing it to MIL? (Like we hadn’t already been doing that since she moved out.) MIL called to bitch out Jose and SIL called later that day to talk shit about me. We were so fucked up. Why should MIL have to get her own mail at her own house? That doesn’t make sense.

If I really were evil, I could have put their address on the Internet. Maybe later.

MIL complained that she got all of her bills late and she couldn’t pay them on time. I sent everything a few days after I got it (honestly, I was considering throwing it all away, but my niceness overcame me) so how could that be true when you always have at least two, maybe three weeks to pay bills before they’re late? Yep, all their bullshit got Jose mad at me for about two minutes before I pointed out how ridiculous their accusations were. PLEASE. Her shit isn’t late and she should be getting her own mail at her own house anyway, like, THREE YEARS AGO. What does she expect? To have it sent here forever? What about when we move? Is she STILL going to come here and harass the new owners about her mail?

Not long after that, we received two change of address notices in the mail. One for MIL and one for FIL. FIL’s was for him only and MIL’s was for---wait, is that correct?—the WHOLE FAMILY!? You’ve got to be kidding me, now she wants to get OUR MAIL at HER HOUSE? Oh hell no. I had to call the post office and tell them that this person IS NOT authorized to change anything from this address unless it is for her only. They made a note of it and everything was fine until about a month later when MIL, too stupid to know that after you forward everything you actually have to change your address with the bank, credit card companies, etc., called to complain that she got a letter from the INS late and it was all my fault because I made her change her address.

The letter said she had to get her fingerprints done within 14 days of January 8th, the date on the letter, and she said it was too late. It was January 21st. She could still go the next day and I found out later that she did and they asked her why she hadn’t told them that she had moved. DER! DER! DER! She supposedly thought that you weren’t SUPPOSED to change your address with the INS. You HAD to get your mail at the same address. What, forever? DER!

Fast forward to a few days ago when I was online checking the amount we owe on the house. I noticed that the address had been changed to their address. I know it’s their loan and everything, but we’re paying it and we’re about to be done paying it so we’ll need the paperwork the bank is going to send when we pay it off. Why are they changing the address now? They thought they were sneaky, but I changed it back. Neener neener. I wonder if they’re going to try to make it hard for us to get the house in our name? Hmm. Yeah, I think so. The other day Jose told MIL we were about to pay the loan off and she got mad because we're not paying her back first for some money he borrowed from her. Who cares that our house is NOT in OUR name and we have a lot of other bills to pay? SHE'S more important.

And yesterday, MIL stopped DH to give him a credit card bill. OUR bill. With HER address on it. OUR bill that had been sent to HER house. And it had been carefully opened and glued back shut. Now how the hell did that happen? We called to change the address back and the operator said something about a national address change and since we have the same last name, our address got changed to hers. Whah? I don’t understand. Maybe DH was telling me a story so I wouldn't be more pissed off. So, I got online and checked the address of our other credit cards and they were all correct. Except this one. Jesus, I hope she doesn’t know someone at AmEx. I warned DH that the next time we have a problem with our mail involving her or her address, I’m calling the cops to report her for mail tampering. I’ve had it with that woman and her bullshit. Sometimes I don’t know if she really is that stupid or she’s being malicious. What do you think?

Saturday, March 19, 2005

A ghost story...HA you believe me!

I mentioned before that we are buying the house MIL used to live in. When Jose first moved in (I was just spending the night all the time) his stepbrother was still living here.

One night, a loud banging sound woke us up. I lay very still with my eyes open and finally popped my head up to see what was going on. As I did that, the noise stopped. I looked around and nothing happened. Nothing was moving, nothing was there.

“What the hell was that?” asked Jose.

“I don’t know but it sounded like someone was slamming the closet door back and forth over and over.”

“No, it sounded like someone was stomping on the vent by the bed.”

“I don't know. I heard the doors sliding back and forth and then hitting the side. Like someone was slinging them back and forth really hard."

"Hmm."

"Well, whatever. It was really loud, though. It woke you up?”

“Yeah.”

This was exactly 5 a.m. I know because I automatically looked at the clock when I woke up. We sat there staring at the empty room for a few minutes wondering what made the noise. Eventually, we went back to sleep.

In the morning, we went to stepbrother’s room and asked him if he heard anything the night before. He said he woke up about 5 a.m. to a loud banging sound coming from our end of the house. Did one of us get mad and start banging on the walls?

So, we decided we must have a ghost. Since then, we've heard a few more weird things like doors opening and footsteps. It's not a big deal and we just laugh and say "Hey, there's the ghost!" We tell people these stories when they're drunk to scare them and make them cry.

We told MIL about it a few days after it happened to find out if she had ever heard anything like that when she lived here.

“Ohhh, yes! One time. Soosie, when we bought the house, they say a girl use to live there."

"Really? When was that?"

"A looong time ago. She about you age. And she die.”

“Really? What happened to her?”

“They find her dead. Nobody know why.”

“Oh. That’s scary.”

“HA! I just keeding. That never happen. HA. You believe me!” she sneered. And then she walked away.

Bitch. I didn’t know you would tell a bullshit story to be a bitch. Are you planning to kill me or something? Grrr.

Wednesday, March 16, 2005

Vomit angels

A few months ago the husband, myself and a few friends were having a few drinks at a Mexican restaurant. Near us, were three Mexican guys sitting at a table covered in empty beer bottles and shot glasses. We watched them take shot after shot of tequila.

After a couple of hours of this, one of the guys got up, ran in the direction of the bathroom, puked on the floor before he got there and slipped in it. It was mostly liquid and from the sound of it I thought he had spilled his beer at first. He performed what looked similar to the Russian squat and kick dance in his own vomit, holding onto a chair and a table to stop himself from falling on his ass in the pool of puke. As he tried to stand up, his feet kept slipping in the pool keeping him suspended about a foot above it.

Everyone stopped what they were doing and stared at the spectacle of arms and legs flailing. He finally pulled himself up and toward the bathroom where he continued puking on the floor, the wall and the sink, according to one of the waiters, who was throwing napkins on the vomit on the floor. It looked like someone made a snow angel in the vomit...or a vomit angel, rather.

Monday, March 14, 2005

On the road again

The husband and I went to Birmingham today for a doctor's appointment for the INS, or whatever it's called now. He had to get blood drawn twice and three vaccinations. Needles freak him out and right before he got blood drawn the first time, he passed out. He told the lab technician he might, but the tech didn't think he would. He said a lot of people say they'll pass out and then they don't. Then he almost passed out again when they drew blood the second time and gave him the shots. "I guess I'm really a pussy," he said on the way home. No, you just have to stop scaring yourself and remember to breathe. It's really not THAT bad. Hee hee.


This is the famous sign (in Alabama) on I-65 N. It's really blurry because we were going about 60 mph and there's a tree in the way, but it says, "Go to church or the devil will get you!" We didn't have time to stop and take the picture so Jose just slowed down a little bit. We were going to turn around on the way back and try again, but it is so far from any exit that we didn't. A few miles down the road is another sign on a barn that says, "Happy B'day Billy Graham Nov. 7th."


The peach in Clanton, AL, aka the Peach Capital of Alabama, between Montgomery and Birmingham.


Perspective.


The back of the cab of an 18-wheeler we saw on the way back home.

Saturday, March 12, 2005

I was naked and it was sooo cool

I seem to always get stuck close to an obnoxious asshole who practically shouts about his "hilarious shenanigans" in high school and/or college to his dinner buddies.

We went to eat at a restaurant last night and it happened again. At first, I didn’t notice him, but by the time the appetizer came and the restaurant had cleared out a little, all I could hear was this annoyance screaming his stupid stories while his friends forced themselves to laugh.

He got naked in a pool during a party and his dad shined a bright light on everyone. He got naked at a party after prom and got arrested for it. He got naked, climbed a tree and got arrested again. He got naked here, there and everywhere during high school.

"I said, the water reflects the light and it looks smaller. SERIOUSLY. Giggle. I did this and I was naked. Tee hee. I got arrested because I was naked. Guffaw. My dad didn’t care. He said that’s my son! My parents let me learn from my mistakes. He he. I got naked and everyone else did, TOO!"

I mean really. If everyone wanted to hear your funny, funny stories, they would ask. Everyone around you doesn’t want to hear you reminisce about all the "outrageous" things you did when you were younger. Get over it. It’s only funny to the people who were actually there 10 years ago.

Guffaw.

Thursday, March 10, 2005

Bush in Alabama


(Montgomery Advertiser)

Oh, I almost forgot. The president came here today to speak at my alma mater, Auburn University Montgomery, Auburn U's little sister. I found out he was coming here last week and thought, hmm...it would be cool to see him speak in person since he's the president and all. I wondered how someone would get to attend the "Social Security Town Hall Meeting." Apparently, there was a lottery to select unimportant people to attend that involved an application and a background check, the governor's office was given 500-600 tickets to pass out to whoever they wanted and the university was given 150 tickets. Darn. I probably could have gotten a ticket if I was still in school there since I worked on the school newspaper. Don't know if I would have wanted to be stuck in that traffic to get out of the school after the meeting, though. Everyone I saw leaving the campus looked pissed.

The interstate and parts of roads on the motorcade's route were blocked off for the president to pass easily and quickly through and it screwed up everything within 10 miles of AUM. I was going to the gym to work out as the president was pulling up at AUM. I got to see all the backed up traffic on the freeway, the on and off ramps and all the streets within a 10-mile radius. I left the gym a few minutes after the president took off in Air Force One and got stuck in the traffic again. That was a lot of fun. I waited about 15 minutes in line to get off the interstate at a ramp that usually takes half that time to exit and as I passed AUM, traffic was still jammed on the roads around the campus 45 minutes after Bush left.

His speech, of course, preempted everything on all the local channels and most of the TVs at the gym were tuned to one of those stations. The employees stood around TVs in offices, several women stood in front of a TV in the locker room and most people, including me, watched him speak while running, cycling, or whatever.

So far, I haven't heard of any protests. Not that everyone in Montgomery agrees with and is in love with President Bush, but Montgomery's boring that way. I did hear that lots of people pulled over on the interstate and waited for the motorcade to pass by, holding signs and cheering and waving. I guess that's all that can be expected.


Bush saluting Gov. Bob Riley. Umm...he's not in the miltary, but ok. (Montgomery Advertiser, Karen S. Doerr)


There we go. (Montgomery Advertiser, Karen S. Doerr)


These dudes followed Bush on his way to and from AUM. (Montgomery Advertiser, Karen S. Doerr)

Do they pay for his drinks when he goes out at night, too?

Here's a story about MIL because I know that's what you want to read anyway.

According to MIL, the real estate agency my husband's cousin works for in California PAYS for his vacations. When they go to Hawaii, the company pays for it. They pay for the plane tickets and hotel room. But only for him and his wife, not for their three kids. Someone should explain to her that "paid vacations" doesn't mean your entire trip is paid for. What a dumbass.

She says he also gets paid A LOT of money. She used to think he earned about $100,000 per year (THAT doesn't pay for million dollar homes and exotic vacations with three kids) but now she says he makes about $300,000 per year because she asked his wife and that's what she told her. If I were his wife, I would have told MIL to shove it up her ass. Geez, she's so damn nosy.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

In a promising development I've been hoping for, MIL has stopped being "nice" to me. Fake nice, that is. She was never genuinely nice. Jose was next door at his sister's house where MIL was, of course, when I got home the other day and he waved at me when I got out of the car. MIL didn't even look my way. NOW he can't say she's just being nice. Thank you for sparing me the bullshit.

Wednesday, March 09, 2005

Juanes

So we went to see Juanes, a Colombian band, at The Tabernacle in Atlanta. The batteries in my camera went dead halfway through the show but I got some decent ones. The stage looked pretty much the same the whole time anyway. Here are some pictures that actually look ok.










Some highlights of the night:

Some people start fighting and after the crowd starts pointing them out, singer stopped the music, went over to the guys and told them that if they could stop fighting, they could stay and party with the rest of us. I don’t know if security actually let them stay.

Singer let three girls onstage to dance with him, but not all at once. One of the girls tried to get onstage a second time and she was stopped by a very large female security guard, who grabbed her leg. She begged the guard and the singer to let her go up to him to get another kiss, I guess. He ignored her and some guy from the back of the stage ran out and practically pushed her off the stage.

Children as young as maybe six years old with their parents among the at least five bars on three floors and thousands of drunk people. Sure the show was G-rated, but kids in that crowd? I don’t know.

My friend got stopped by a security guard as we were trying to go back to get my husband’s jacket. He didn’t believe he was going to get a jacket and wouldn’t let him through. Since he wasn’t paying attention to me, I went past him to the bar where the jacket was. My husband went back to make sure Scott didn’t get his ass kicked. I was followed by another security guard who asked me, “What are you doing? Who are you with?” “I’m with them and we’re trying to get a coat. They won’t let them past so I’m getting it.” He followed me to the bar and told the bartender to give me the jacket. How hard was that stupid Tabernacle security bitch?

Selling two extra tickets for UNDER value. UNDER value. Not MORE than they were worth or at least AT value. Yes, I’m still pissed about that. Thanks Scott!

Being told by a bartender on the second floor that I’m too pretty to smoke. Thanks! For me, drinking = smoking, though. Yes, I know it causes lung cancer, premature death, makes you look old sooner, dries out your skin and hair, weakens your lungs and make you smell like crap. I think I covered it all.

Stopping in a college town on the way back home to eat something and Scott yelling “I wanna buy those bitches!” to some college girls dressed like whores. Or maybe they were dressed to go out. Whatever wearing knee-high boots and mini skirts suggests.

Sunday, March 06, 2005

Hey!


Yay!! You're standing there so that means food. Where is it?


I'll blow bubbles then.

Friday, March 04, 2005

What, I'm not allowed to have friends now?

My best friend went to eat with her parents at the restaurant where my MIL works. This is what happened when they were leaving:

MIL runs up to her: Hey, baby. I've missed you. You never come in here anymore why you never come here anymore I know why you never come here anymore why you never come here anymore? (She had been there at least two other times in the few weeks before, but I must be telling her not to go there because MIL is there.)

Friend: Oh, I don't know.

MIL: Are you still friends with Soosahn?

Friend: Umm, yes.

MIL: Oh. (disappointed look)

When they left, my friend turned around to playfully make a face at her mom and MIL was standing in the window staring at her. She must have thought she made the face at her because she had a hurt look on her face. Oh well. She shouldn't have been stalking my friend like a maniac. Ha ha MIL. EVERYONE hates you!

Now why would she think we weren't friends? We haven't been hanging out as much lately, but how does MIL know that? Not from DH b/c he hardly talks to her. Maybe evil SIL told her my car has been at the house more often lately. That must mean I have no friends anymore because my car is there at a different time.

But why the hell does she care? She has to know everything about me all the time so she has something bad to say about me. I wish my friend had told her that we weren't friends anymore just to see what she would say. I'm sure she would be overjoyed and she wouldn't be able to control herself and she would give my friend a kiss--on the mouth--for not being friends with the evil son stealer that I am. Because I don't deserve to have friends or any happiness in life because her son doesn't kiss her ass anymore and do exactly what she wants him to do because I'm his wife and he kisses my ass and does everything I tell him to and I'm telling him to hate his family because that can be the only reason he wouldn't want to see them all the time anymore. They've never done anything to make him not want to see them. They're all good people. It has to be my fault. That's the only explanation.

And how dare I ban her from coming to our house? She can't annoy and harass me anymore if she can't call or come over every second and make snarky comments. I'm going to hell for ruining her sadistic enjoyment of torturing me and making me uncomfortable in my own house. Now she can only get to me through my friends.

Poor MIL.

Wednesday, March 02, 2005

A quiet summer's day: part 2

In the twilight of the fading day and under the cover of the trees, a small, wooden building, almost on the verge of falling into the water, sat in silence. It had no windows and a dim, purple light outside the door. There was no driveway and no signs of life. I wondered out loud who would live in a house like that. As soon as the words escaped my mouth, thoughts of monsters and serial killers ran through both of our minds. As we stood frozen in our steps, a cold breeze blew through the trees rustling the leaves.

“Let’s get outta here,” Lucy whispered as she began running away.

“Hey wait! Wait for me!” I screamed as I ran after her.

We splashed through the water, Lucy far ahead of me. I lost sight of her, but I could still hear the splashing water as she ran for her life.

I caught up to her when she stopped at a big, green, slimy rock, afraid to fall in the slimy puddle beside it. Earlier we had slowly and carefully maneuvered our way to the other side, holding onto the rock walls and thin tree branches extending from one side of the gully to the other.

Scared of the house and angry that she left me behind, I pushed her to the side and jumped onto the rock, grabbing the branches as I landed. Sliding on the algae and falling into the dark, slime pool, I flew out of it to the other side. I kept running. I heard a guttural splash and knew Lucy was following me.

We made it out of the gully back to where it all began near the road. We weren’t safe yet, but at least we could see what was around us instead of only dirt walls rising over our heads. I looked back once before racing to the safety of the road. Nothing was following us. I felt a small sense of relief flood over me, but soon the panic returned when I realized we were still all alone in the woods and it was almost dark.




We didn’t stop running until we got to our neighborhood. We caught our breath and walked the rest of the way home. We were sweaty, exhausted and soaking from the knees down. We ruined two pairs of shoes that day.

I went back to the creek once, alone because no one else would go there again. I sat in the stillness and the soft light of the sun filtering through the canopy of leaves and the quiet gurgling of the stream, but it wasn’t the same. The mystery of the house hung in the air around me. With every sound of rustling leaves and breaking twigs, I imagined the worst. That was the last time I set foot in that part of the woods.

Tuesday, March 01, 2005

A quiet summer's day

I spent my childhood exploring the woods around my neighborhood every summer. My friend Lucy and I enjoyed the suburban wilderness much more often than the other kids. We were the most adventurous of the group and the biggest tomboys. We weren't happy to watch TV or play in the front yard for very long. We liked finding new trails and creeks or pick blackberries.

We knew about a stream nearby and started going there one summer to cool off in the water. We heard that it led to a gristmill where a lot of the older kids hung out. We weren't brave enough to walk all the way through the woods to the mill, so we stayed close to home. Here there were clear, shallow pools and small waterfalls flowing over big, granite rocks and fallen logs, emptying into a deep, muddy pool before flowing under the road to the other side. We always talked about swimming in the pool, but we never did. Anything could be lying in wait beneath the surface.

One day, Lucy and I were sitting around by the stream and decided to walk all the way to the gristmill. The pools were bigger and deeper there and a larger waterfall fell over the mill. We put our shoes on and began walking along the water.

The stream became wider and deeper. We walked along the sides, hanging onto roots and rocks in the ground over our heads so we didn't fall in the water. We eventually came to a clearing where the stream, much wider now, forked into two different directions. We took one path, hoping it was the right one and wondering what would lie ahead. We sloshed ahead, forgetting about keeping our shoes dry. The walls were too high for us to climb to the ground above and the water barely covered our feet.

We were getting bored and night was falling. We stopped. Should we keep going or go back home? Concentrating on the watery path, we had not paid attention to our surroundings. Our eyes had been focused on the water to make sure we didn't step on anything other than the creek bed.

While we were deciding whether to keep going or turn around, I looked up and froze. I said something to Lucy. She turned around and looked up at the bank behind her.


To be continued...