Tuesday, April 12, 2011

Vacation... or somethin'

Yeah, we're broke.  But my family is awesome and my kids are only little once and the aliens could come anytime and decide we've grown too big for our britches and assimilate us all into their collective hive-mind so they can make better use of our jewel of a planet, SO, I'm spending money on a vacation.
You can't take it with you to Alpha-Centauri, I always say.
The beach it is.
I hit up the owners I've rented from in the past.  We've had awesome luck with every condo we've ever rented.  Of course, they are all booked.
I combed the VRBO.com as well as every other condo-rental site I could Google-fu.  I sent out approximately 257,322 requests for information.  I got back about 20.
I thought I had one.  2 BR "house", pool "across the street", beach "3 blocks away".
I tell the lady, who is very nice and a private owner, which I like because I want to help people, not some corporate real-estate concern, make money, that I'd like to rent it, so she forwards me the lease agreement.
Yeah, I got a hold of the address.
Hello Google Street View!  How are you today?  Can I see some pictures of...
It's a half-double. It looks like a trailer.
I click around the neighborhood.  No pool in sight.
I click the 3 "blocks" to the beach.
I can already hear the whining.  From my husband.  The kids I can threaten into silence...
There's the ocean...
It's a DRIVE beach.
For those who don't know, there are still a few beaches in Florida that you can drive on.
That's fine.
For other people.
It was fine for me when I was 22 and had no kids and wanted to keep my beer in the trunk.
Now I wheel my beer in a cooler with the juice boxes like a civilized person.
Toddlers and rednecks in jacked up trucks on a beach DO NOT MIX.
I could feel my blood pressure rising just LOOKING at this place.
I could not abide this.
So, I REALLY think I have it now.  One in the same complex as another I rented last year and was greatly enjoyed by everyone.
PleaseDearLordHearMyPrayer. Amen....
(writes a check.)

Tuesday, February 22, 2011

A tiny peek at my psyche.

I do this nearly every night.  I berate myself over something ridiculous and it can go on for hours. 

As this blog is named, here it is, the 11pm anxiety rumination/answer session.

Ooo.. therapeutic.

"You shouldn't put all your crazy thoughts on the internet."
- My thoughts aren't nearly an iota as crazy as some of the mainstream stuff I see out there.  I often wish they were.  Maybe this can be a crazy-thought exercise! I am also instituting a "4 hour rule" in which I must write the blog in a word doc, save it and review no less than 4 hours after writing.  After review I may THEN post.  This MAY help with the fear of Blog Vomit but I realize this is not fool-proof.

"You're weird. People don't care about your stupid stuff."
- Then they don't have to read.  I'm entertaining myself here, join in or move along.

"You're going to offend people."
- Probably.  I often find myself offensive.  And hilarious.  This is really just about me reading my own stuff over and over again and laughing at it anyway. 

"You are an annoying person and people are judging you."
- Mmmm, don't care. If so, perhaps I'm doing a public service.  They need someone to judge to take the focus off of whatever is ailing them.  And I hope they feel  better soon.

I do!  Thank you ruminations exercise!

Monday, February 21, 2011

Yeah, it's like that.

I want a blog too! 

I've funny and insightful things to say, and lots of inappropriate drivel also.  I'm PERFECT for blogging!

I've noticed that most of my favorite bloggers obsess on something (somewhat) etherial, such as zombies or unicorns.  I shall here-to-for find a way to slide Aliens into my blog. 

Here we go.

Back in, like 1999 or so, Giant Eagle moved into my neighborhood.  They were filling the gaping grocery hole left by Big Bear (I know, right... what is it with food stores named after sizable animals... Food Lion is another example, though they don't tell us how LARGE the lion is... perhaps it is just a tiny lion, made of vienna sausages and toothpicks with sprouts for a mane... but I digress..). So Giant Eagle arrives with great fanfare, and they send everyone in the area their Giant Eagle Perks card.  This was the first exposure I had to a rewards card of any sort.  My BFF, Jess was visiting when I opened my mailer.
Jess: "What is THAT?"
Me: "New grocery store.  I guess you use this thing when you buy stuff and you get extra discounts.."
Jess: "Ok, wait.  So you use that thing, then they track EVERYTHING you buy and when?"
Me: "It sounds creepy when you say it like that... But yes, I guess so."
Jess: "Well, I guess it's a good thing.  That way, the Aliens will know what to feed us."
Me: with a horrified stare, "Omigod.  You're right.  You know what this is?  GIANT EVIL!"

Yes, that's right.  Giant Evil.  And I avoided that store like the plague for YEARS.  Then CVS did the card, and Kroger did the card, then I was desensitized.  Then I discovered the Giant Eagle FuelPerks.  Last week, I bought my tank of gas for $1.46/gal. 

Stupid Americans.  Those dumb bitches will do ANYTHING for GAS!

But, at least our alien overlords will know that I like Dunkin' Donuts coffee, garlic hummus with little carrots and that I feed my kids omelets with ham and broccoli like twice a week.  And XXX Vitamin water.  They'll have lots for me.  Maybe this is proof that they are somewhat benevolent.  Remember that song "Pets" by Porno for Pyros? 

Yeah bitches.  It's like THAT!