What the hell?: September 2002

Ha. Per Fuckedcompany Scient's market cap is worth a whopping $942. Where did all the money go?

Ha. This is rich. Only on the west coast.

Customer Service for my high-speed digital cable access is indeed available.
From the hours of 8am to 8 pm.

That's it.

No OT for these guys.

Is that nuts or what?

Great. So no checking email until tomorrow. If you send me mail and it bounces, keep it in mind and lemme know later (since I won't have any other means of access until my problem is resolved!). Joy.

Giggle. Snort.

Cleaning out your in-box is a sure fire way to make yourself laugh.

A forwarded letter sent to an in-house recruiter:

Hi, my name is Eric Dine and I am e-mailing you about employment at Big City Bank on Maize and Allen Rd. I tried to leave a voice mail on your answering serviec, but I got little confused.

Thanks,
Eric

I changed names to protect the not-so-innocent.

Is that a great cover letter or what?

sigh.
I'm not that bad, so there's still hope.

tee hee.

What am I going to do the day headphones are a no-no at work?

Getting ahead of myself, I really really got spoiled with the internet bubble. Who knew that plugging yourself in could create such a perfect think space? After accidently listening in on a 'discussion' that was none of my business, it dawned on me I had music on my computer.

Hello Limwire. Thank you cable set up. And thank you Pekka for forcing my cheapass to spring for these faaabulous Sennheiser headphones.

Oh, and thank you Pink. That woman has alot of energy. It's contagious. Wonder why all of my sentences are so short. Hmm. Brain must be rotting.

Hey! It's actually raining in San Diego!

Never happens. Light mist and the city shuts down. Too funny. Yesterday when the sky threatened us with rain, people kept saying," When it's like this I just want to go home." Granted, people everwher say that all the time when the weather is bad. But when it only rains once in a blue moon, what's the big deal? The pharmacys do not keep cheapo umbrellas stocked by the registers ala Duane Reade. There's no need to rush out and buy one in this car driven environment. In this house there are officially two umbrellas. Charlie and Michelle have one. So does George.

Breakfast has been served.

YUM.

And I cooked none of it! Love living with the brother.

Hypothetically:

If you had your kids in the next room, WHY would you make a ruckus in the kitchet at 2.12 AM???

COuldnt' you postpone cleaning for another 6-7 hours? Especially if one of your kids had an earache and had been awake numerous times earlier? Huh?

Grr.

Oh yes. The reason driving George's car was so funny follows...

The front seats have fancy power adjusters, so that you can fine tune your relation ot the steering wheel, as well as the road. Did that. Which basically meant I scooched really close to the front.

Then I parked in a tight space at the Nail salon.

After turning off the car I needed to provide rationale for restarting the car.
(Mainly to move the seat sufficiently far back so that I could exit the car.)

Shet ep.

Hmm.

Earlier tonight I almost used "U" in place of "You" when sending a text message.

A slippery slope indeed on the way down.

Oof.

Remind me to explain what driving feels like. It's just weird. In Long Island, service roads continue in the same direction as the main highway. Here, there is traffic both ways. Which is just bizarre. And so driving a side route (to and from "the bar") was more of an adventure when you factor in the extreme power steering George's car has. And I failed every attempt at parking. I was over the line. Oh, and it didnt' help that I had to massage out a working turn signal. Any time I turned left, Ihad to remember to push/pull the handle until the signal remained. (And also not flash my brights at the car in front of me.).

Tomorrow I try the minivan. I need less power steering.

For my woes I picked up a fancy French pedicure. (Love it!) But I have decided to only visit Spanish nail salons in the future. I felt like I was in the Seinfeld epidsode where Elaine's nail salon speaks openly about their clients - in Korean.

It's cheaper here, but sitting in a massage/heat chair is deemed a "spa pedicure" and costs in the neighborhood of $17 vs. $11 for a regular pedicure.

I have to stay that driving to a pedicure is less stress than walking. You won't smear. (So long as you don't hit the gas/break with your toes.) Sounds fair to me.

We picked up the best taco's at Pepito's and then dropped Michelle off. She was helping her sister acclimate to Happy Hour. This left Carlos at home to tend towards the kiddies. One of which was increasingly aggravating. Mix some ADD with the norm and you spell Trouble. For the 2nd time in his life, the child got stuck under the bunk beds. WHY would you do it twice??? And the mouth. Oy. Oh the drama. But there was more. But it's not suitable for here. BUT I did take Chuckie on a walk at night. I felt like going out for some air, and dragged a more than willing pooch along. I am decidedly doing that more often. Walkign a dog provides ample opportunity to peek at landscaping and windows, as well as idle chit chat with some increasingly cute neighborhood residents. :)

Cake and candles tomorrow for Nathan and Caylin's bday celebration.

YAY!

[Test of the Emergency Broadcast System]

Ok, not really. Just testing to see how the video clips post.
Meet (more like watch) Viljam! (3.7mb)

This is the child who enjoyed waking me up at the crack of dawn in Finland.
To play pattycake.
On me.
Specifically, my face.

See him say "No" and then snarf down his favorite snack.

Oh, and I almost forgot to tell you about my little Amtrak trip to LA. Tricia is flying out Tuesday and I'm meeting her in Burbank. Turns out the arrival time of my train and her flight are almost identical. Purrrrfect timing. LA 101 for Irene. The last I was there shouldn't could as 1) I don't remember beans 2) it was probably with my parents.

The joys of visiting an employed friend include a night's stay at the Hotel Renaissance.

Fancy!

Ah, perfect. It does work. Image hosting. So I'm retarded. And I just realized how easy something was to do. Don't you just love that?
(Warning: the picture of Mom in Finland is on the large size. Unless you're on a fast connection, hold off on meeting Mrs. Mom.)

Anyhoo. I had a loverly day hanging out with the brother. We were both home doing our respective homework. He was on leave this week, so I've have the opportunity to see lots of him. (And the dog, whom I converse with on a shockingly regular basis.) The day zipped by, and I found myself compulsively cleaning the other bathroom. I like clean. And besides, I really wanted to use their (bigger) bathtub;)

Then we broke out the Beers From Around the World. I have got to tell you about the nifty store we bought them at .... but only after I ask Charlie what it's called. Picture a Pier 1 in warehouse form that sells beer, ale and spirits! WINE and blankets? Or pick up some beer and curtains? (No drinking in the store however.) But the prices are lower than Pier 1 and you can pick up food and nibbles too. Way cool. And in the same shopping center as Target.(!)

Dinner was cooked and consumed on premises. Shelly had hoped to join us, but was held up at work. The kids showed up and we immediately put them to bed. I was finally able to meet the infamous Scott (biological father). And then we watched A.I. (and a few weird new shows with names that escape me. Like Firesomthing. Spaceships anyone? or this John Doe character. I dunno.) I know I'm always behind with movies, but at least living out here will provide a semi-valid excuse. (For example, Sweet Home Alabama opens this weekend. )

Shelly came home towards the end of A.I. with Jenny(?) who i was ready to swot. Thoughts of covering her tipsy mouth with duct tape briefy crossed my mind. But then I pictured being tackled protectively by Michelle and stopped. Luckily Jenny snoozed off and I was able to catch the end of the movie. Seriously, how annoying would it be if you stayed home for a quiet relaxing evening and relatively drunk (loud) people showed up? Who wanted to 1) meet you and 2) talk. Grr. But all is well. And for some god for saken reason I'm wide awake.

Sigh.

Happy Friday!
(Or Saturday by now)

Testing, testing one, two, three. If I'm doing this correctly, my mom should be here.

Whaat? People who subscribe to People magazine pay $2.19 an issue?

Are they nuts?

- knowledge gleamed from the magic of popups.

[A Purchase I Regret]
While perusing the shelves at the Rand McNally store, I picked up a very heavy Thomas Guide for Riverside and San Diego counties. This will let me drive around without getting ridiculously lost. Happy as a clam with my street guide. What I am not happy with is the $12 I wasted on something called "I'll Never Get Lost Again".

Go ahead and laugh. It sounded kind of funny. The book cover promised to deliver a perfect traveling companion, as well as a complete guide to improving my sense of direction. That's verbatim. If you know me, you know I'm always lost. It's not from lack of paying attention. Once I wander outside of the manhattan grid formation, I'm truly puzzled to find east or west. The author (I almost hesitate to give her that title), Linda Grekin, starts off with some funny examples of the directionally challenged. Then she provides more examples of people stating that they have no sense of direction. She suggests carrying a notebook, writing directions for the inbound and outbound trips, and allowing extra time. Big deal. Whoopee. People like me "are different".

NO!

The only interesting information she provides is someone else's research. Two scientists in the 80's poked around and measured the length of time it took people to decide whether a picture of a 3D object represented the same object as a second picture (where the object (or another) appeared with a different spatial orientation). (Ok, long sentence.) It's hard to explain, but if you want to look at the original experiment, go here. (scroll down a bit to see the 3D objects they use to test.)

With my interest piqued, I went online.

Now listen to this: Further research has shown that men perform the tests quicker than women. One scientist (a woman) explains "the magnitude of sex differences in mental rotation as large as the IQ scores between Ph.D.'s and typical college freshmen or as large as the difference in height between 13- and 18-year-old-girls."

Uh. Ok.

The "superiority" (yes, that's the word used) is attributable to a thicker right cortex in males than in females. The right brain hemisphere is in most people responsible for certain spatial and perceptual tasks like mental rotation.

Fine. So their heads are bigger. We already knew that.

Well, hang onto your panties. Their brains are bigger because:

"For the thousands of years during which our brain characteristics evolved, humans lived in relatively small groups of hunter-gatherers. The division of labor between the sexes in such a society probably was quite marked, as it is in existing hunter-gatherer societies. Men were responsible for hunting large game, which often required long-distance travel. They were also responsible for defending the group against predators and enemies and for shaping and use of weapons. Women most probably gathered food near the camp, tended the home, prepared food and clothing and cared for children...",

"Men would require long-distance route-finding ability so they could recognize a geographic array from varying orientations. They would also need targeting skills. Women would require short-range navigation, fine motor capabilities,...".

Hmph.
read more

But remember, it's not my fault I get lost all the time. It's in my genetic make up.

Er...

Alright, alright. Remember how I said I was a favorite of the porn spammers?

Well, this one made me chuckle.

In my junk mail folder........

Subject:A Russian Women Would Be Grateful To Date You

(NO! Who? Me? Shucks, go on.)

Think of the world through the eyes of beautiful young Russian women with few prospects in their homeland. They're eager to meet and marry the regular, hardworking guys they've seen on TV and in the movies. And they're just as eager to be loving, devoted companions, free of the attitudes and neuroses of typical American girls.

Neuroses?? What kind of neuroses do YOU have? Considering that I have a readership of, say, five. And that 1 of you is male. That still leaves 3 American borne women among the bunch of you. Before you respond, consider that neuroses isn't used in medical vernacular anymore. What's wrong with you??

I get such a kick out of skimming mail when I read in preview mode in Outlook. This little nuggest was nestled next to WSJ: Fed leaves rate unchanged and I'm home alone with my webcam. Hmmm. What to dump? If I had a webcam hooked up, I'd be home alone with it as well. I feel the need to periodically check the junkmail folder "just in case" but there's never anything good in it. But I still look. sigh.

yep.

As penned by my 13 year old sister-in law's step sister:

Dear Dr.Dig how r u doing? I need to know who were the first ansistores to create fire? can u please e-mail me back asap

awwwwww.

This is what happens when they insist on their privacy. I found this in my outbox.

[Photos Can Be Dangerous]
Since we've recently been discussing breathalyzers, I thought you might find the following entertaining:

HOW TO STOP PEOPLE FROM BUGGING YOU ABOUT GETTING MARRIED:
Old aunts used to come up to me at weddings, poking me in the ribs and cackling, telling me, "You're next." They stopped after I started doing the same thing to them at funerals.

HA. Thank you Alison. That made my morning. I just came from the Principle's office. Oooooo Scary. Funniest part is she's only a year or two older than me. The joys of having a child in middle school are lost on me. I've had many a conversation on boys, hairspray, and dating. With a 12 year old. Today the principle, my brother, and I jointly agreed that detention was a good thing.

[Photos Can Be Dangerous]

Since we've recently been discussing breathalyzers, I thought you might find the following entertaining:

Tarja holding a "DriveGuard"
Irene holding aforementioned gadget
(See where we're going with this?)

Irene almost ready to take the plunge
Tarja in action
(Blow baby, blow! Note: Bottle of white wine in the forefront that contributed to this grand scheme.)

And, surprisingly,
the two of us standing before we hit the town.

Brb.

We had fun that night. Leo (Tarja's Dad) is Gadget Man. He owns more plug-in appliances than anyone I know. In his kitchen we regularly checked our blood pressure. (I was shocked to see myself fall in the acceptable range.) I'm sure if we looked closely enough, there'd be caliper pins stashed away. On this particular eve, Tarja whipped out what I'm sure is a big seller in Finland. The Drive Guard proved effective for us, and we had a cab pick us up. (Pekka hadn't imbibed at all. However, we had plans to intoxicate the boy along with us.)

And that was my send off from Turku. Skeleton crew to start. And then we met up with Henri & co. later. Thank goodness I had the sense to leave my camera at home.

Bah humbug. Sorry. I just do not understand the junk mail that my friends send. Funny is good. But the magic-will-fall-from-the-sky stuff just doesn't cut it. But good luck trying.

Let's see. Today I continued my marathon streak of getting up at the crack of dawn. And when I say that, I mean it literally. George gets up and leaves the house by 5.30. Every morning. It's really quiet at that hour, so it's a nice time to work on the job search. And more importantly, the sun hasn't had the chance to bake the house. It's been warm the last few days. Fall is one of my most beloved seasons, and I'm missing it. If I want to see the color orange on trees, I can tune in to the local forest fire. Oy.

I am tiptoeing towards establishing CA residency. I opened a savings/checking at the Navy Federal Credit Union. No fees. And cheap checks. The day I'm ready to purchase a car I can arrange my loan through them. I also picked up paperwork from the DMV.

My evil deed for the day? Purchasing a dictionary as a birthday gift for Caylin.
She's going to kill me, but she needs one.

Alright. So I'm feeling guilty and will sneak out tomorrow and pick up a necklace or something. But it will be funny (in a twisted adult-ish way) to watch her unwrap Webster's finest for her 13th. tee hee.

Well, now I'm a believer. Just read this:
>* My name is Ann and I am 45 years
>* of age. I had always been single
>* and had been hoping to get into a
>* nice, loving relationship for many
>* years. While kind of daydreaming
>* (and right after receiving this email)
>* I wished that a quality person would
>* finally come into my life. That was at
>* 9:10 AM on a Tuesday. At 9:55 AM
>* a FedEx delivery man came into my
>* office. He was cute, polite and
>* could not stop smiling at me. He
>* started coming back almost everyday
>* (even without packages) and asked me
>* out a week later. We married 6
>* months later and now have been
>* happily married for 2 years.
>
>* What a great email it was!!
>
>

Snort. Right.

>-- Subject:
> FW: IMPORTANT - READ CAREFULLY!
> Date:
> Mon, 16 Sep 2002 10:46:32 -0400
>
>
>
>
>* Hope it works!
>
>
>* Supposedly The Phone Will Ring
>* Right After You Do This.
>
>

Don't send me this crap. sweet bejeebus. Especially if you haven't sent 'real' email in ages. Grrr. After scrolling through a 1/2 a page of email addresses, I'm rewarded with the promise the phone will ring? Hallo. My phone rings all the time. I don't want it to ring any more. In fact, the next time a telemarketer calls, I'll be sure to curse you. Fooey.

Uh, how sad is it that I'm looking forward to Sunday? What happens Sunday? Season premier of Alias. Yes. I need to know more about Sydney B.

sigh.

Must have tv.

Don't call me Sunday.

Ok. Call, But not during her show:)

[job fair]

There's a homonym for you. The fair was not fair. Tee hee. It was kind of a funny day. After my dear brother works wonder with my mac formatted doc, to have it read on his PC, and successfully prints copies, we headed off. Zipping down the highway in a low red convertible was/is kind of fun. I had no idea what companies are supposed to be at the chamber of commerce hosted fair, since there wasn't any information available online. (duh) Only that "last year over 1,100 employers" showed. (it should have said '1,100 candidates'.)

The longest line inside was for the Resume Guru. The second longest line was for the sales trainee program at a local bank. Mortgages to be exact. The small (3 aisles with 3 employers per side) space was full of women clammoring to be the next receptionist at again, a retail bank. A step up the ladder were the women competitively interested in bank teller spots at Bank Temps. If I wanted to work sales for the Union Tribune (in their classified department) I would have been set.

Instead I called my brother and meekly asked how far he was from the hotel. Since we had parked at the end of the lot, he'd just made it to the car. Lucky me. Saved.

Positives for the day:
- looked at myself on paper and decided I liked what I saw
- no waiting online to enter the fair
- dressed in working clothes for the first time in weeks (pantyhose!)
- visited my brother's base and saw his work space * (more on him in a minute)
- hung out with my brother and picked up a few necessities (fluffy pillow, coppertone to ward off the farmer's tan, kleenex, etc.)

Ahem. Pay attention to this if nothing else.
My brother is smart. I mean, I knew that, but you know how easy it is forget.

He's an E-6. Petty Officer First Class. And he made it on his first attempt. (People usually try 2 or 3 times before making the next grade/pay level.) How did he do it? He kicked ass on the exam (this is last year). Out of the 1500 some-odd people that took the test, Charlie earned the top grade. Numero uno. How cool is that?? So anyway, just wanted to crow about it.

Maybe some of his smart genes will rub off on me:)

It's the nagging that does me. And I'm not the one being nagged at. Oh, and the caustic comments made about a person when they're not in the room.

Do I look like a counselor?

Uh, no.

Example A:
Man:....instead the captain rented the 2BR apartment in Coronado to his friends for only $2700, when he could have -
Woman: (interupts) - for $3000.
Man: (low voice, surprised expression) But you didn't see the place -
Woman: Excuse me! I hate when you do that. I read the paper. I know the market. I have a degree in real estate. (voice is continuing to rise). I don't know why you do that. It's rude!

Example B:
Man: Not Present
Woman 1: Clattering of pots.I don't know why 'Man' doesn't just put these away. Squawk squawk squawk.
....
Woman 2: How's it going? The wraps you're putting together seem pretty time intensive, but delicious. [Seems like and innocent comment to make.]
Woman 1: sigh. I've got SO much to do. sigh. I still have to make the potatoe salad. 'Man' was supposed to come home to day and boil the potatoes so all I would have to do is cut and mix the salad. But he didn't. Of course. So now I have so much more to do. One for the gipper I guess. blah blah blah

And the thing is - the conversation (if you can call it that) would have continued if I had stayed in the room. Even after I stated I had 'Man' with me all day (taking me to the job fair & running errands), she kept right on going. Shet ep!

Basically she sold the boss on the idea to serve free food to her bar customers. And she gets cranky when she's preparing the food because she's tired. None of which are my problems. Nor am I particularly interested in hearing. I don't mind listening - but not when it's always a direct attack on a family member of mine. And the snide comments made to noone in particular drive me mad. MAD.

I am hiding in my room. With the dog. eep. I don't know what I'm supposed to say.

Oops. Just realized that my time zone was still set to Helsinki.

Alright. Tell me what you think of this:
Strong computer skills: WORD, PowerPoint, EXCEL Ability to learn and apply new applications (data) Strong willingness to help personality

Do you think that's a typo? Or that the person you'd be working for is a complete nut job?

Oy. When I will stop finding the fun in everything?

Did you realize that doormen are now called "Welcome Ambassadors"?

If they're around to welcome you, then why do I feel the urgent obligation to show appreciation with greenbacks? Or am I supposed to be paying you, my friends, as well?

[Ships Passing in the Night]
I set the alarm for the early a.m. hours to find some peace and quiet to work in. I get up this morning and start chatting with Charlie thinking it's odd that he's also up at the same time (since he's not working today). Turns out he just got home.

Yowzer. I am too old to stay out until 5ish am.

Guess Monday night football was a success. (Last night was Michelle's first with food to feed the crowd.) To drum up business and keep her patrons in house, Fannies is offering free food. I say 'Fannies' is, but it's really Michelle. She does all the cooking at home, lugs the stuff to work - including chafing trays - and then cleans up. SHe cooked four meals yesterday in preparation for this week. And they were all delicious. Michelle is a good cook. Yum.

[Homonyms]
I forgot how annoying 6th grade homework could be. Ever try explaining the difference between aisle, isle, and I'll? And then (for kicks) we subtracted intergers. Who said being a student was fun?

[Cali-ness]
Last week we popped into Container Store to pick up a few items. At the time I couldn't explain why I was so excited to my brother as I made him pull over. I gasped when I saw the store, and tugged at his shirtsleeve. (His response was something like," We're just buying hangers. No need to get so excited. Relaaax.") NOW I remember Hovanec had previously sent me the URL, and then I had asked for a catalog. (It was nice. Drooling was involved.)

We go in. I marvel at the sheer enormity of the space. He shrugs his indifference. He redirects me to the appropriate hanger aisle. There is an entire w a l l filled with standard plastic hanger; in at least 6 six colors. I jabber. He still doesn't get it. I make my selection and we proceed to the register (which has more square feet than my first studio apartment). Since I was still grunting like a seal at that point, Charlie responded to the cashier's question.

She asked," How many?"

Charlie," Twenty."

Get this: She smiles and rings us up. She does not treat us like common criminals, nor does she even make the motion of counting the hangers herself.

I find this fascinating.

Oh, loverly. The cool Nokia 3395 is perfect. Except for the reception in the black-hole of my present house. Zero reception. I need to be outside, or really close to the front porch, to use the phone. If you want to reach me immediately, it might be wise to try the house phone. pooper.

I think I’m the only person who missed the Emmy’s.
Here’s the funny part: I didn’t even know they were on last night.

George and my brother were watching The Fugitive and I just vegged next to them. I was tuckered out from the previous night, and went to be early. The only reason I know I missed the Emmy’s is from the Today Show. Thank goodness for Matt and Katie.

The summary was almost as good as watching it live last night. No speeches to listen to. But I will be looking for E!’s coverage. Love the fashion critique.

For some reason, real dramas are worse than the stories put together for the tele. Abruptly transitioning....

Here’s what I learned today: never ever ever ever get a DUI. It’s not a gift. The cops are giving you anything. You earned it. Having a drink and driving (and being caught) has some serious penalties. Would you want to face possible jail time? Or pay thousands of dollars in fines? Not to forget legal fees. The person I know who’s being asked to pay her dues was ‘lucky’ with her first offense. She ‘only’ has to contribute a small percentage of the original fine, work off 30 furlough FT days, and attend 2 AA meetings a week. And no driving for one year.

Uh. Ow. If you work Monday through Friday, and only have Saturdays to work off your furlough, it will take forever. Factor in extra commuting time and you begin to see how disruptive the penalty is.

Oh, but there’s more. If you have two DUI’s there will be more hell to pay. That arraignment comes later.

It doesn’t make any sense. I’m really hoping that the date with the judicial system will serve as a wake up call. Hopefully there just won't be any time to fall off the wagon. Fingers crossed.

Imagine holding the title of "Envelope Adjuster".

That's a conversation starter for the next social outing.

So there's a job fair tomorrow I feel obligated to investigate. Nothing ventured, nothing gained.

Quick!
Who can I call?

The phone came today. Hurray (one would think).

Then I realize the phone has been activated since the date of shipping (the 20th). So even though I haven't had the phone I'll be paying for the remainder of my billing cycle. When does the billing cycle end? Midnight September 24th.

People. Granted I feel for the sales guy who was tripping over himself to make the sale. But he did not take the time to explain anything. If it wasn't such a hassle, I'd return the phone and pick one up in a store (to avoid the shipping charge. yes, another thing not mentioned during our discussion.) Interestingly enough, tax is only added after shipping has been calculated in. So my $29.99 phone ends up costing $50. grr.

But on a positive note - cable dude showed up! ANd i'm online now. So excited.

Hello Cingular!
Starting Tuesday you can call me at 619.729.2745.

Hurray!
Being jobless does not obstruct cell phone ownership.

Oh! And if you want to mail anything you can do so:
2513 Chatham St
El Cajon, CA 92020

Until my Nokia arrives the house number is 619.463.1098. It's a full house, so if you happen to leave a message with the youngest household member (a blossoming preoccupied teen) I probably won't get the message. Sigh. She means well, but, uh, forgets alot.

OR, you can leave a message with my brother on his cell: 619.917.2687

Hopefully I'll have my computer connected via cable after this weekend. Then checking email shouldn't be so tortuous. Down with Earthlink.

Lesson No. One
Never write late into the night.

I'm all over the place in yesterday's post. Maybe it has something to do with the drugs I was taking, but maybe not. Go Sudafed. THankfully earthlink bumped me, and I couldn't get online again.

Right now I"m in the process of finding another ISP. I hate earthlink. Even though I cancelled them in June (when I couldn't use their service because I was in Europe) they kept my account open. And continued to deduct payment from my account. Yes, I knjow, I should have been scrutinizing my statements. But all Chase mail was sitting at home. And, blah. The only reason I learned about the active account is b/c I tried to open an account yesterday. (Credit card denied due to an existing account.) So now I desperately want to cancel my earthlink and send a nasty note. And tell them how rude the customer service dude was today. (He told me to address my "complaint letter to corporate and heck, even the president, if I thought it would actually make a difference.") People.

Perspective check: Try eating all your meals on plastic plates which feature cartoon characters.

Then think about having kids.

Gah. SO not ready to have kids of my own.

Ho hum. So much ground to cover.

I suspect my larygitis proceeded at a much quicker pace due to all the chit chat made heading west. It was so weird, but everywhere I went, people were in a mood to talk. Including my 3 am pickup and the midwesterner we grabbed on the way to the airport. The slight midwesterner proved to be quite the talker. He's since relocated to LA and freelances his programming skills around. Not only does he do the software, he works with hardware. Dave was really cool as he's built prototypes for the moon! Talk about cool. So we talked until boarding.

Oo! Forgot about the frisking.

JetBlue is absolutely thorough in their approach. Every single person walking through the metal detector is frisked. They take your shoes off. They touched my underwire (both of them). Then they patted my boobs to be sure I hadn't stuffed any objects in there. (Doesn't that sound comfortable?) They made me open my mouth and used a flashlight. And they used fancy swabby things to check my laptop through. it takes forever. But the flight was decidedly uneventful. ANd the middle seat was unoccupied. But the service was cheerful, the seat were really made out of leather, and I had my own little tele to watch (no movies - just tv. hgtv, discovery, espn, news, etc.) Very cool. Definitely recommend Jet Blue.

Yes. Talking. I land. I wait for another shuttle bus. In the interim I meet a guy from San Jose and a girl from NY. Lovely people. Long stories. Pretty interesting. Voice goes downhill. Anyhoo. The driver decides to drive me directly to my brother's house (instead of the Park n' Ride in La Mesa). Nice.

Tomorrow I will tell you about the bar we visited my first night. I think it's called Fannies. It has what I would deem an interesting clientele. Well intentioned, but slightly awry. And largely nonviolent (I hope:)

Sorry for cutting it short, but it feels like my eyeballs are going to pop out of my head.

Nite!

For the record: I despise chain email.

Please don't send me any expecting me to participate. If you feel the content is somehow hysterically funny and worth sharing, do so by all means. But think first. grr.

I hate weeding through that kind of mail. You life/luck will not magically improve. I guarentee it.

Cali
Um, so what does Irene catch the minute she lands?

Laryngitis.

I have been squeaking and coughing. People pretend to nod and understand, and then whisper the minute I'm out of earshot. I had given up hope until today when I miraculously barked out a few hoarse words. Yay! Talk about annoying. I was unable to go anywhere solo as I refused to walk around with a pad of paper and a pen to communicate. Luckily my brother has been getting out of work early to chauffeur me about. He rocks. I started calling him my bitch. (Bet the woman who was eavesdropping spit her dentures out on that one.)

The improved state?
It sounds like I smoked 6 packs a day for the last 20 years.
It's better than nothing.

Today I visited two of the biggest malls ever, so, drumroll, the computer works!

My power adaptor went on the fritz. Timing is everything. Loverly. $74 later and I'm in business. But I do admit to now owning a fanzy adaptor. They stopped cranking out the powerbook series, so the apple guys hooked me up with an iBook juicer. It's a little silver minidisk! It's too cute.

many things to talk about - and i'll be back with more.

alright. must stop fiddling about. afterall, i have to shower soon to start the day. oy.

did i mention that my mom packed a lunch for me? in an adult's version of a paper bag: the aveda salon bag with little handles. since jetblue isn't going to feed me, someone had to step up to the plate.

love the parents.
just need some space.

Happy thoughts!
(particularly related to airplanes and normal seatmates)

Off into the blue yonder....

ooooh. I see. Connecting the wires myself, and it only costs $24.99. Then the monthly fee is $34.95. hmm.

Count down please
The car service is picking me up in approximately two hours. Yes folks. Even though it's 12.51 a.m., I am departing the 'burbs at an ungodly hour to hike it out to JFK. My flight leaves at 7:05. When I picked my fancy schmancy direct flight, I was a tad overeager. So be it. Wheee!

I have two bags (not one as I promised my brother) to check, my laptop bag, and a slightly larger carryon. I do not travel light. I will never travel light. But I'm not traveling. I'm, um, something else. Traveling implies (at least to me) a temporary situation. Gah. Am I really moving in a few hours?

On to other things.

It's not ok to discuss 'private' things here. And I can understand that. But if I'm at the butt of the joke, where's the harm?

And with that, I share the following: I have a cold. It started yesterday. I sneeze alot. Loudly. Dainty is not a word to be associated with my cacophonic cough/barks. Harsh sounding does not even begin to describe the level of sneezing I've reached. My body jerks with temporary spastic paralysis. I swear my hearing is swallowed in a tunnel during each episode. Oh, and there are multiple sneezes in a row.

Ignoring the trash can my mother unceremoniously presented for my tissues, I'm doing better than expected. Not sure where the cold came from, but it came just in time for my flight. Anyhoo. TOnight I was packing. And admittedly was a bit distracted as I walked around the house. Combining over the counter meds, lifting, and climbing of stairs is not a good thing. I'm in a fog.

So after dinner, I sucked down 1/2 a pitcher of banana-orange smoothy my mom made for me. YUM. And then I kept drinking water. Lots of water. (Must think about tomorrow's plane air, you know?) So after bringing down a crateful of magazines for recycling, I had yet another sneezing bout. Picture a pooch sneezing. No hands to help me as I'm carrying a hefty load. So as I'm involuntarily jerking about, my muscles contradict each other. The bladder decides, yes, that it's time. And so I pee'd a dime's worth. In my panties.

I should see if the spokesperson spot is open at Depends.

Ahem.

Now you know. But I thought it was really funny. My mom was not so impressed. This as she repeatedly informed me bladder control was never an issue for her "during your incubation period." (My mom caught the chicken pox when i was a bun in the oven, and spent the summer locked inside with the A/C.) I find my mom really funny when she refers to pregnancy as an incubation period. What am I? A science experiment? (Don't answer that.)

Sidenote: Brother, am I remembering that you have Cox Digital Cable at home? Does this mean I can set up a cable modem for moi? Will you look at this and see if it's possible? (I have a modem, ahem, already.) And $24.99/mo is a sweet deal.

Er, whatelse was I going to say?

YAY! The computer came back to life. (The one in need of CPR). Granted it required committed attention over a weekend day for the owner, but thankfully everything is back in order. Whew!

My mother convinced me to keep the shoes. She liked them. And we were in no mood to navigate mall traffic. My mom rocks. She spent the better part of yesterday and today hemming clothes for me. My freakish size requires special handling. So now I have TWO (count 'em) sleeveless dresses, a leather coat with sleeves that don't hang down to my knees, and a top that doesn't fold in the middle of my back. Yay!

So I'm trying not to think about the emails sitting in my inbox that require my attention. They will wait until either tomorrow or Wednesday. It all depends on what kind of access I have. And if the kleenex box hasn't eaten me.

gack. cough. hack. (sneezing held at bay)

Flight 205 - Jet Blue.

Oh I'm sorry. It gets better.

Be sure to scroll all the way down. Go beyond the bumper sticker list. Zoom in on 'sites [which] offer detailed advice'.

I haven't actually look at masturbationhorror.com with it's
"Unfortunate, true tales of how masturbation can go horribly wrong." But I'm going to. I feel like someone is going to swoop down and punish me in the afterlife, but come on. Perhaps my morals have gone astray, but I'm more or less a good person. Sometimes. er. Whom am I trying to convince?

We've got the whole world in our hands....
So I'm sitting home tonight because I planned on being a pooper. I strategically didn't carry extra clothing into the city yesterday, b/c I wanted to come 'home'. I need a good night's rest 1) to finish packing 2) to deal with the loving parents without snapping.

Caffeine and hangover breakfast sandwiches can't fix a pounding headache. Or respond to my dad's endless stream of questions.

Tomorrow I'm also returning the shoes I bought at Aldo. Their pointy and cool looking, but completely impractical to walk in. Well, walk fast in. They don't rub or hurt, they just make me wobble. NOW I know why my career in modeling was derailed. Not my height. The shoes! snicker. I may need to rip out a stitch or two to return the shoes. The return policy was clearly posted. With a receipt UNUSED MERCHANDISE can be returned. A friend suggested this deviant behavior. Hey. I'll do anything to get my money back. Plus people in malls are easier to bully than sales associates on 5th ave. Watch out, here I come.

So tonight I'm missing Fez, karaoke at funny bar, or well, a host of choices. I really am getting old. I can't do too many nights in a row. And consider that I didn't get up so early either today. Hovanec shoots off to work, and I take my sweet time showering. Play with the pooch. Oh, and then break Erin's computer.

Yup. It froze on me. I had a browser window, word, and the trash open. No matter how many times I restarted, zippo. The mac hangs while rebooting. GAH. I spoke with Lisa (during my fabulous lunch at Zen Palate) who strongly recommended TechServe. I'm calling them tomorrow. I have survivor's guilt. ANd erin was so nice about the whole thing. But it's kind of like breaking an expensive vase. Only much worse. Fingers crossed. Good Karma thoughts. Memory will be recovered. Friend will not hire a hit man. Er. Ya.

So in my night in, as a dashing 20 something, I encountered the following:
MasturbateForPeace.com

I particularly enjoyed the checkbox:
I pledge to masturbate, in my own time and own way, for the cause of peace.

Words escape me. But it's out there. Good ole cyberspace. Knew it would save the world some day...

Trisha, Catherine, a question for the two of you:
Does your weblog own you?

Here's where I fall (thank gawd):

25 %

My weblog owns 25 % of me.
Or perhaps it is a sign of my refusal to commit.
It all ties back to men.

People!

Irene leaves THIS Tuesday for the west coast.
As in September 17.
You're killing me.

Sunday I'm going back to the city to see Tricia (NOT to be confused with Trisha). (Come to think of it, Trisha will probably be home when I visit Tricia, so what the hell am I talkign about?) I may also be seeing Erin, Pat, Susan, and Livea. And maybe the birthday girl herself, Alison. She's officially today. Yay!

Keep those fingers crossed that group planning does not fail us. Slate was fun last night, but I do not have the energy to bat ideas and/or competing schedules around. Just enough energy to see, smile and hug. Got me? WOrk with me.

Freaky Friday
Hallo! People today is NOT a bad day. Contrary to popular belief Friday the 13th will not automatically bring forth bad tidings.

For example: ME!!!

I was born of Friday the 13th.

Consider the following:

December 13, 1974 Last solar eclipse on a Friday the 13 th. The next solar eclipse on a Friday 13 th is in July 2018. Both are partial solar eclipses. There are 24 solar eclipses on a Friday the 13 th between 0 and 3000. Of which 13 partial, 9 annular and 2 total solar eclipses. The most odd is the one of 13.03.313 which was an annular eclipse.

So in 16 more years you can check out a solar eclipse. Uh. If you remember. If not, I'm sure I'll be around to pester you.

Here's a point of view from the military. Superstitions pooey.

So I'm sitting in Erin's apartment right now. (Thanks Erin!) Showered and being cleaned further by Ophelia. Unbiased in her licking love, I'm sure every molecule has been removed from my tootsies.

Yesterday was so nice. I'm going to miss my friends in New York. I got to see Trisha, Jenny, Erin and Cristina in a jam-packed day. I screwed up my planning with Lisa, and had to reschedule for later today. (Lunch at the Zen Palate. Yum. Cannot wait.) Oh! And I also saw Beatrice and finally met the love in Cristina's life. I slept later than Erin and took the longest shower. It's such a luxury to not be in a rush. I deep conditioned. Scrubbed and buffed. Moisterized. Ahh.

Must catch up with a few emails first.

We have a winner of a day in Long Island. The weather is perfect. The fog lifted, the clouds departed, and the window is blowing a steady breeze.

And I still don't know if they're finished reading all the names. I couldn't watch anymore and trudged upstairs.

There are SO many boxes. My mother kept packing stuff in haphazardly, but is waiting for the Tooth Fairy, or some other creature to use her magic wand. I didn't want the stuff in the first place. But we bought it. Then we carried it to Queens. And now it's back in Long Island. Whose fault is this? um, not mine. But I'm unpacking and organizing.

Geesh.

I desperately want a T-Mobile Sidekick

Drool was coming out my mouth when reading a Business Week review. But they're not for sale yet! GAH. What to do what to do. But a teeny tiny phone might be a nice option. But think of the emails I could send! And not have to lug a laptop around. A Blackberry on hormones. brb.

The national package plans on T-Mobile sound really good. For $39.99 you get 1000 whenever minutes (none of this off-peak business). And long distance is included. Weekend minutes are unlimited. If I have to worry about calling durinf off-peak hours, the east coasters can expect calls around midnight. Uhhh. That's not going to increase my popularity. Or my ego when you hang up on me.

But Craig (Mr Recruiter who smokes pot who moved to SD) is a big proponent of Verizon. He is the king of research. After suffering at the hands of At&T and then Sprint I am timid. I fear being kept on hold for ages. And then I worry that no one will give the unemployed a phone. Hmm.

Oh, it's the little things ...

So it's been more than a few days since I checked in. I have little excuse other than the weather. See... When it's hot and humid in Long Island, it's even hotter upstairs where the computer is. And so I loathe coming up here. But, it's exactly one week before my departure, so that excuse isn't going to cut it anymore. So I'm rearranging my belongings and assorted possessions to soften the blow to my dear parents. They're still willing to house my junk "so long as they can still walk in the house."

So I'm cleaning.

But back to my earlier thought. It's the little triumphs that make me happy. For example, one cost that HarvardBoy will absorb by misbehaving:

Motorola SURFboard cable modem $ 109.99
(plus shipping handling of course)

Har.

Know anyone in the market for one?

Ho hum.

Sheryl Crow absolutely rocked last week. Livea was a darling and snagged a bunch of us free tickets from Susan. Go Susan! And Livea! It must be nice to be at a point in life where you can give (emphasis on that last word), ahem, give six tickets away. (Susan didn't realize the Jewish holiday overlapped with the concert. When Livea asked if she wanted to give the tickets to any of her friends she said," Naaa. All my friends are Jewish." So there we go.)

Jen drove in from CT and was such a trooper driving us out to NJ. She was stuck in traffic for over two hours before picking us up. Craziness. But we got there. And it was a hoot. Our seats were middle orchestra. We kept flashing our tickets to the Holy Holders of the Flashlights. And they kept waving us down. OH! And we parked in VIP parking by accident. So we walked a total of maybe 15 carlengths to the gate. Yay.

Saturday came and went without me knowing it. I was too tired to stay in the city to hang out with either Erin or Trisha, so I LIRR'd it home. I am old. And I like the parent's pool! So we grilled and had a few beers.

Sunday was the Big day for my pop. The man is a shocking 72!

Impressive for the old goat. And he has most of his marbles.

So after swearing off TV in a previous life, I have now consumed enough in the last week to carry me through a millenium. Or until the fall premiers roll out;) Seriously. I LOVE TV. If the news is no good for you, there's always the food channel. Or the crafty let's-fix-your-house channel. Or some Discovery. Or History. Or movies you've seen already, but can stand to watch again. Or... well. There's a lot. And I thoroughly enjoy it all. It's my friend. Alright. I shouldn't go that far. But it's a good background noise. And I can understand all of it! (Well, not the CSPAN. Politics is just not meant for me. Why do they do the things they do?) But I've watched enough to keep up with the American Idol conversations. Oy.

Alright. So I'm rambling. Sorry.

I am staying in Long Island for the day. I don't what to do with myself, but I am skipping the trip though Penn Station and the subway. Al Quaeda isn't the biggest concern. It's the other copycats that worry me. Not having a cell phone at the moment also keeps me on edge. (Not that it would work or anything, but I'd feel marginally better clutching in my dead clammy hands.) So call me in the burbs. or I'll call you. I'm coming into Manhattan thursday. I've made loose plans with a few of you. And can't wait!

Back to moving boxes.

Young, Rich, & Single
Meet America's most eligible bachelors
A 'special report' brought to my attention c/o of CNN. No, really.

I click away to see what's going on in the world, and that's the link that caught my eye. Well, after reading about the pop star being booted from space camp. And now that I'm being so forthcoming, the story on why 'Free Willy' should be killed. Last time I checked CNN isn't People magazine, but some of the stories they run make you wonder.

Gosh I feel well rounded.
(But knowing myself I'll probably end up reading about the single boys club. Why don't they write articles about the single, successful, rich women? The lone mention of Julia Roberts doesn't count. Scratch that. Fortune does. See The Most Powerful Women in Business Tis good. With scant mention on the single and most eligible nature.)

Blah, it's hot. No matter the season, the **name removed** household is off kilter. Come winter time you'll be able to blow frost clouds inside. Or wear a hat to breakfast. In the summer it's plain ole sweltering on the 2nd floor where this computer is. Throw in a few plants and keep the windows closed and you'll have a swell greenhouse.

Today we returned the dog. Complete with it's new accessories. What, pray tell, could my parents have purchased in the few days she was here? Let me tell you (as though I had nothing to do with it;)

... a must have for any household: a plastic bone-shaped clear placemat. Complete with doggie words printed everywhere.
... an edible chew bone (a healthy alternative, so we're told by the informative packaging, to roasted pig skins and/or natural sticks....which we used anyway.)
... treat bisquits (which promised to freshen doggie breath. key ingredients being eucalyptus and somethingelseican'trememberrightnow)
... a doggie sweater.

Yes. There was a sale and we bought the dog a sweater. We had my dad measure the pooch over the phone. (Ophelia is decidedly in the 16 inch range. 14 just doesn't cut it.) It was cold over the weekend! (stop laughing) And we thought she needed some gear to protect her against nature's elements. Uh, in her excursions around the block and the high wet grass in the backyard.

Returning the dog took a chunk of the day. And then we stopped in Flushing to buy from the fish market. It's a whole different world out there. The floors are sticky. People seemingly enjoying pushing as a form of entertainment. I rolled my pants up. And cautiously edged the free-roaming blue shelled crab away with my sandals. Fresh but not as organized as you'd like. Or roomy. But definitely an experience. And then we stopped at Filene's on the way home. Gotta love it when Christian L. bags (on sale for only $175) slum in the same bin as lower end items ($99 and $9).

I am pooped from moving slower than molasses with the parents. Time moves on a different scale when we do anything.

So my day has been sucked away, and hopefully I can 'start' tomorrow. I have a list of people to call. And email. And then well, figure out what the hell is going on. Yawn. But that will come.

And it keeps on raining...
Well, let's see. When I last left you I was ready to puke (again) at the thought of calling the former 'landlord'. [Note: From now on everything related to the Queens apartment must be treated with kid gloves. The 'landlord' or 'primary tenant' is Ernesto.Otherwise I'll start referring to him as 'idiot' or 'greedy bastard' or 'ggggrrrruumblfr*cking*ss'. Or something.]

I tried calling him yesterday night. No answer. I was gearing up for a dinner-ish call but was prompted into action earlier by the ball-busting daughter of the landlord. Irene went ballistic when she read the following (today):

Irene and Carlos,

The courtesy of a response would be most appreciated. Please email or call me
at xxx-xxx-xxx. I wish to settle this matter ASAP. As I mentioned, your
agreement with xxxxx[Harvardslimeball]xxxx in no way has an effect on your agreement and
responsability to us. I have received another phone bill in the amount of
$12.36 for a hospital charge (collect call). So this is to be added to the
balance due .

The total due to date is : $1550.32. This does NOT include the con edison
bill for the month of August, When that is received it will be forwarded.
Perhaps I should come by your home to discuss and settle the matter. Please
advise.

AND it gets better two hours later:

Carlos and Irene,

I was just informed that you have already turned in the keys to the apartment
and have removed all your belongings. We expect payment in full immediately.

xxx[meannastywoman]xxx

First of all: Why the attention to my Dad for chissakes? Like he's going to spring into action and write a check? (uh no.) Or does she think he's going to yell at me? Whatever. But I was particularly amused by the image of her ringing my parent's doorbell. Ooooo scary. Let me call the police to welcome you in.

The woman had her panties in a bunch because I hadn't responded to email since my last day in Finland. Now you know how awful I am at writing you, my friends. I've barely managed to stay awake since i've been in New York. And for two lovely days I was cleanign the residual dirtslimecrap from HarvardMan. Weeding through 100 or so emails is no fun. And I had already told Blanca (the upstairs in-law) that I was going to be hanging around Manhattan for a few days. So it's not like she didn't know where I was. And that I was going to call Ernesto. Blah!

My polite and pointed response apparently did not please her. I told her I was dealing directly with her Dad, and that she should direct any questions to his attention. And then I told her to stop harrassing my family. Apparently that word got to her. Boy is she madder than a wet parrot.(ok, so the saying in spanish is less corny.)

Then my mom and I went to Walmart (oy, was it crowded. think circus. no! a bar at last call.) and Target (ahhhhh. Love it.)

Shoes were purchased.
And velour leisure pants.
(ok, a substitute for sweatpants. The unemployed positively need these!)
And um, vitamins.

So I finally spoke to Ernesto. The man is nuts. No, wait. He suffers from a serious bout of selective memory. And creative imagination.

It's too long to go into, but basically he tried to guilt trip me into paying Harvard man's rent for August. And all of his utilities. But remember folks, Harvard man is only following the law and not paying more than what he's supposed to. (Put aside how sneaky and conniving HarvardMan was for now.) Even after I told the Big E (that's a good name for him! he's SO big. BIG MAN.) that I didn't have a trust fund he persisted. And told me I owed what my honor and conscious demanded.

So I told Ernesto I was shocked, actually appalled, when I learned how much he was overcharging me the last 15 months. And that considering he's made more than $10,000 off me (tax free) I thought there was a little lee-way in dealing with the HarvardMan 'misunderstanding'.

Ernesto told me 'he was already at a financial loss with the utilities'. And that I was confusing the difference between rent and utilities.[whaaat?]

That 'he pays utilities out of his own pocket' and not from the rent. And that 'he's an honest man who pays his obligations on time'. [Hint, hint, why dont ya?]

OH! And then he starts making up conversations. And deleting others. He said, and I literally spit my disbelief, he said:

'Irene. I remember now. [What? Sudden photographic memory?] When you told me you were going to work in San Diego this summer, I said the apartment could stay open. If you returned to NY and wanted to move back in, it was no problem with me. And there was no need to pay for the summer rent.'

RIGHT. Like I would have gone to the trouble to 1) searching 2) reference checking 3) emptying the apartment etc.

And here's where I won my Mother's vote: He never called my parents in June. He never spoke to James in June. He never discussed the papers the management company served him and HarvardMan. None of that ever happened.

So I know this is confusing. And I've left holes everywhere. But thank god I'm not being asked for any money from him. I just have the threat of potential litigation from HarvardMan (who will hopefully keep quiet and forget about me). HarvardMan squeaked through the experience by paying a little over $800/mo for a great 2BR for 3 months. HarvardMan trashed my belongings. HarvardMan made use of the A/C and charged up hundreds of dollars with ConEd. And has said he's given all the money he'll ever give. The sly devil. But all legal.

And kosher.

(Ask me in private to demonstrate the whispered hallowed voices the upstairs biddy used to describe Jewish lawyers.)

Dogs
Ah yes. As I was saying. There is a dog in the midst of the **name removed** home. The family is quite amused and entertained by Ophelia's antics. She continues to break all of her previous rules, and does pretty much what she feels like;)

For example: The Rain.
When in the city, I have rarely seen the dog venture beyond the immediate curbside area when rain is falling. A growl, a run down the stairs, and a quick pee. I swear she holds in anything else for a dryer point in time.

Here Ophelia's perfectly content to sniff (and eat) grass while the sky opens up. She's even happier to pee on our neighbor's driveways. (The joys of being a dog.) And she is perpetually tormenting the local squirrels and cats with her throaty growl. IN the backyard. You think she'd cold. But NOooo. So the parents have enjoyed her visit. (And I think have been sneaking her food on the sly. I told them to only feed her mommy-approved doggy treats, but who can resist such a mug?)

Another example: Stairs
Ophelia looked so woeful last night I carried her up the stairs. Ok, ok. And I was so tired I wanted to go to bed immediately. This morning she kept looking at me and the top of the stairs. As in," Me? Nooo can do. Help me."

So I carry the dog down the stairs.
(They're wood! And vaneered. And they look slippery.)

Parents leave mid-day to do parent things. I head up stairs to use the computer.

Dog proceeds to whine in pathetic wimpers. I truck downstairs and carry The Great One up a flight.

Guess who was in a hurry to greet my parents when they arrived with bags o' food?
(Hint: Four feet on the ground at a time.)

Hmph.

So....
It's raining. I'm out in the burbs of Long Island. With a borrowed pooch. And I don't feel like doing much of anything at the moment. But most decidedly I do not feel the urge to call Ernesto. Ugh.

Last week flew by. After camping out at Cristina's I *finally* enjoyed a night at Corner Bistro. It's not like they didn't have burgers and beer in Finland. It's just that there wasn't anyone there who truly appreciated the combination. (I still don't understand why or how they decide to add a side of salad to everything. Salad with mayo. Remember people - the land of no napkins.) After being coerced into having one too many, I slept like a log at chez Hov. It was SO nice to everyone. Even though we were six perched around a table for four. But it was gooood.

I spent Thursday and Friday emptying the Queens apartment. Oh, and cleaning. The Harvard God and his family are pigs. They not only stiffed me (well kind of), but left the place filthy. My parents came and helped me clean. I threw away a feather bed, the cover, and a mattress cover. Not to mention assorted towels, sheets, and pillowcases. I was mad when I started scrubbing mildew (a black vine that crawled along the wall), but I was livid when I saw the state of my beloved bed. Then my mom showed me the fridge. Oh and it goes on. But I will not let this ruin my day today. As Erin said - what comes around goes around.

But I did find the contact information I left. Alongside prepaid envelopes addressed to my parents - which they never used. Even though my mail was piling up. Luckily they exited the apartment in such a haste they neglected to pack 3 important things.

1) a Time Warner cable box in the living room
2) a Time Warner cable box in the bedroom
3) and a cable modem

And the remotes of course.

When I called the oh-so-helpful bunch at TW, they informed me the account (which is in good standing) is under the name of said sublettor. HA!

So if he's not going to pay me (and / or ernesto) he's still going to have to pay someone. Or ruin his credit. The do gooder will have to fork out some dough. I feel justified.

Let him hold the threat of treble damages close to his heart. And then let him ask me for the cable boxes. I didn't see anything. Same as him stating he returned the apartment in "even better condition" than it was in May. Right. Life is a circle. And going to a good school does not automatically make you an honest ethical person. Or a hygenic one.

Ew.

Backing up a bit, here's some of the sordid details. James provided a $2500 security which I was supposed to deduct utilities from.(long story, but no-go.) Starting in June he was supposed to deposit the rent in the local Chase. He never did. I've told him I've paid June, July, and August's rent. (I managed to put a stop order on the August check in time. Whew. But James doesn't know that.) Without utilities he would have owed $4500. Taking away his deposit there's still two thousand dollars left unaccounted....that James thinks I've paid. So he's able to sleep at night with that knowledge. Nice. Nothing illegal. But he knows I don't have the resources to file legal action against Ernesto. So he's content to let little ole me pay for him. AND his utilities. (Think of the cost of A/C for a pregnant woman. Con Ed, etc. add up to something like $450.)

But I am going to let Ernesto's daughter stew in her own juices and respond to her nasty email at my earliest convenience. Even though the whole situation has been exposed as illegal 'they' continue to demand money. They're asking for August's rent and assorted utilities. Mind you, the rent I've been paying is more than two times what the management company collects. So (here's your chance to learn something) by asking for more than 10% over the rent controlled (or is it stabilized? i forget) amount, they break the law. As a sublettor, I could conceivably ask for my overcharge. And the court could make them liable for up to 3 times that amount.

Lowballing the overcharge, here's a little bit of math:
... Management company charges $600/month.
... Ernesto charges me $1200/month.
... I lived there for 15 months (before subletting)
... So that tallies up to a hefty 9 K!!!
(oh, and add two more months when James lived there. That's $11,400 !*@! Money in his pocket.)

Uhhh.

Then multiply that by THREE.

ouch.

The man is convinced that because he has nothing written down, he won't get in trouble. And that I wouldn't have the balls to take him to court. But if he continues to threaten, coerce, or guilt trip my parents we shall see. He should count his blessings and be quiet. But no. He's trying to rent the apartment again.

Hallo? Moron. Greedy bastard. Leave us alone.

I have been practicing my argument with the parents and anyone who has been in the vicinity. I have a tendency to get overworked and animated during tense moments. I need to project polite, sincere, and calm. But there is no way I am giving MY money to Ernesto to pay for James. Especially, ahem, when the law is clear about overcharges.

Oy. Happy Labor Day Weekend.

What the hell?

Monday, September 30, 2002

Sunday, September 29, 2002

Saturday, September 28, 2002

Friday, September 27, 2002

Thursday, September 26, 2002

Wednesday, September 25, 2002

Tuesday, September 24, 2002

Monday, September 23, 2002

Friday, September 20, 2002

Tuesday, September 17, 2002

Friday, September 13, 2002

Wednesday, September 11, 2002

Tuesday, September 10, 2002

Tuesday, September 03, 2002

Sunday, September 01, 2002

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