Oh, Crap

There are many reasons to be a homeowner: setting down roots, not throwing away money month after month in rent, owning, you know... something. I have not arrived at the point in my life what necessitates home ownership, and I am glad of it, especially when it comes to my little house.

When I arrived home from work the other evening, I was faced with a situation that made me relieved to not own the place in which I live.

As soon as I walked in the door, a musty, dirty smell hit my nostrils. Clearly, it was sewage. Grand! With my landlord wintering in North Carolina, I had no other choice but to creep into the basement myself.

Now, my house is a cute little thing, with an apartment on the first floor, and an open-concept loft on the second. I live in the loft, and usually there is a tenant downstairs. With no one there this winter, I have been alone. It's been awesome, actually, what with not having to worry about stomping around too much, or having music too loud.

But the basement is another story. It is set up like a makeshift apartment, with a weird toilet on a pedestal, a sink, and room after room filled with shelves of strange old appliances and shitty romance novels, as well as racks upon racks of clothing. My landlord lived down there for a few months when there was a tenant on the first floor, and I honestly have no idea how she did it. She described the basement as "Greenwich Village-ish." I'm not totally sure what that means, other than that some people in NYC live in compete and utter weirdness.

So anyway, the pedestal toilet. It... had overflowed, as you may have guessed. The sewage had backed up and soaked the floor. The carpeted floor, of course. It was grand.

The plumber came that evening and snaked the hell out of the system, but Lord, does it still smell. After a few hours, you get used to it, but it's not something I really want to be dealing with much longer.

Still, at least I don't have to pay for it.

I Don't Know How I Couldn't Share This With Y'All

I love the internets. Where else would we be able to find amazing pictures of Tom Selleck, in a waterfall, with a sandwich?

Selleck Waterfall Sandwich

from Selleck Waterfall Sandwich

When you scroll over each picture, text appears to describe the "featured sandwich."

Amazing.

Sorry Girls, Dropped My Computer... Nnnnyeah

One of my favorite Scrubs moments. Nnnnyeah.

The Puzzle Has Stolen My Motivation

The remaining pieces are all exactly the same color.
Greenish, bluish, and blackish.

I want to scream.
And yes, I'm crazy and must finish it.

Do You Believe in Ghosts?

I think that I've been watching too much Supernatural.

I was getting ready for work this morning when my microwave started beeping. I hadn't warmed up anything and forgotten about it - that's when it gives off a little reminder beep. We hadn't lost power. There were no crazy winds outside, and it's not very old, so I can't imagine that it was shorting out.

It just kept beeping.

I walked over to it and saw that instead of the time, the numbers read, "66:66." When I hit clear, it beeped another "6." And another. And another.

WHAT THE FUCK.

When I returned home from work, the microwave was fine. It wasn't until NIGHTFALL that it started back up with the shenanigans. I snapped the above picture, cowering in fear, and finally unplugged the damn thing.

Of course, when it came to eating dinner, I had all sorts of delicious things to reheat, thanks to Ann Arbor's Restaurant Week, and the damn thing wouldn't work. It kept throwing sixes and zeroes my way, wouldn't respond to the "clear" button, so basically I have decided that it's working against me. So I heated up random things in the oven. Like the pioneers.

The microwave hasn't done anything bizarre since being unplugged, but still. What I wouldn't give for Sam and Dean Winchester to come knocking on my door...

Stumped

Remember that word puzzle calendar? It took almost entire month, but I found one to stump me. See if you can solve it:

The 10 words below all belong in the same category. To find each word, remove one letter, then rearrange the remaining letters:

1. PUMA
2. MEOW
3. NUDE
4. AISLE
5. ABORT
6. TOOTH
7. MIRAGE
8. CHROME
9. NONSALE
10. PHILMOUSE

Heather's Clue (now that she's seen the answer): names

How to Eat Venison

Phase 1: Kill a deer or have someone kill a deer for you

Phase 2: ...

Phase 3: Profit

But really, I am lucky to have a friend in Tim the Hunter (ooh, like Orion!), who also happens to be married to my darling Emily. When I was leaving their house after a fun weekend in Holland, they opened up the freezer and filled a bag of fun for me (for Mike, really). I drove home with a menagerie of frozen animals in the back seat. Well, I think just elk and deer, but still.

I made the venison steaks for Mike the other night. I took pictures of the meal, but honestly? I don't want to share them. They don't make the venison look very good, and it tasted good, but I still don't want you people judging me. Plus, the homemade mashed potatoes with roasted garlic were a fucking disaster because I wasn't paying attention and completely over-boiled them.

(Have you ever roasted a head of garlic? DELICIOUS.)

But still - that was my first foray into the cuisine of the forest, and my first taste of game. It was good!

Also, a bonus:

BF: Will you make me some more venison?
Me: Well, honey, we're out of venison. How about some elk?
BF: Venison. Go get me a buck.
Me: Are bucks better?
BF: Lesbian deer are better.
Me: Of course they are.

He Does Have a Point

After seeing this World Wildlife Fund commercial starring Noah Wyle:

BF: "I would save polar bears if I felt like polar bears wanted to save me."
Me: "They would eat you."
BF: "Exactly, so fuck 'em."

You Guys, I KNOW Him

Besides briefly (very briefly, thank God) reconnecting with high school friends, I found one other useful thing about The Facebook: Learning that one of your friends from the dorms wrote a freaking book:

It may not be a book I would normally read, but I knew Kyle back in the day, and I can pretty much guess that it will be awesome. It'll be released next month, and I'll be picking it up. I'll most likely review it, too, though Lord knows I know absolutely nothing about genetic engineering, so you'll have to take my review with a giant grain of salt.

Congratulations, Kyle!

Again, "What the Hell is Wrong With Me?"

You guys, I got a puzzle!
It's a bird!

And I stay up late and work on the puzzle until I look at the clock and see that it is, in fact, the very next day, and even though I have been working on the puzzle for hours, I still continue to work on the puzzle for two additional hours annnnnd this happens more than once.

And I still haven't finished the damn thing.

Why I Will Never Get a Real Tree at Christmas

I don't remember ever having a real Christmas tree. I know that it happened during the first years of my life, but only because of photographic evidence.

(And actually, one of my absolute FAVORITE Christmas pictures is of my brother, as a toddler, attempting to blow out the twinkly lights on the tree. Man, I need to get a scan of that.)

Turns out, my dad was insanely allergic to the pine tree, and December became pretty miserable for him, so we eventually got an artificial tree. They're easier, cleaner, nicer to the environment, and you don't have to worry about discarding a once-living thing on the curb.

My artificial tree set me back $12.76 at Walmart (of all places), including three strands of lights. It was the third and final time I had set foot in that place (the first was in Ohio during a four-day event of true horror and the second was with my friend Shane to purchase Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix which, of course, was totally worth the trip even though the store made me very, very depressed), and it's lasted for years.

On my way to the bus stop the other day, I was reminded of my ingenious purchase, and why I have held onto it as I moved from apartment to apartment, state to state.

Oh the poor tree! It is so sad and dejected, discarded on the dirty snow. But wait! What is lying next to it?

Oh, never mind. The poor tree is just a little hungover. Wondering about the location of the automobile. "AUGHT-OH-MO-BEEL?" Am I right? Guys?

Diamond in the Rough

OH MY GOD.

An eight-pack of orange cupcakes, INDIVIDUALLY WRAPPED, for a super cheap price at Kroger.

Now, I refuse to mask my hatred of Kroger, especially the Kroger by Mike's house, because I have yet to experience a trip there that didn't result in disappointment.

FOR EXAMPLE.

Mike and I went to his Kroger on Saturday morning, and I picked up a few things to keep at his house so that I am not tempted to go to Boston Market or Potbelly instead of eating something cheap at home. (Hey honey, I haven't gone to Boston Market in weeks! Aren't you proud of me?) I grabbed a thing of marinara sauce from the fresh pasta section, something that I would normally just make from scratch, but sometimes I just want food without a wait.

Last night, I noticed that the stamp on the bottom said, "Use or freeze by December 9, 2009."

Um, gross.

And the time before this, I wanted grape tomatoes. I love grape tomatoes, and I snack on them instead of chips. I throw them in every recipe possible. Yeah, but Kroger doesn't seem to think that keeping NON-MOLDY tomatoes is a priority.

STUPID KROGER.

So when I'm at Mike's and want groceries, I usually go out of my way to an awesome place called Holiday Market. It has the best produce in the area - which I don't think is too much to ask for - as well as an awesome wine selection, a gorgeous deli, and a swoon-worthy bakery.

Right, so Kroger?

I hate you. You carry my favoritest cupcakes in a satisfying, individually-wrapped eight-pack, and that's awesome, but I still fucking hate you.

Save Me From Myself. PLEASE.

When I commute to work, I take the bus to the transit center, and then I walk the remaining half mile or so. It takes me past my favorite coffee place, and then past an evil, awful, beautiful, wonderous, wallet-sucking establishment.

When it comes to books and the procurement thereof, I've explored my insanity before. I HAVE A GIANT PROBLEM.

The library is great, and I know (I know, I know, I KNOW) that I should be utilizing it more, but there is just something to be said about holding a book and knowing that it's yours. Putting it on a shelf and looking at its beautiful spine. Loaning it out and knowing that someone is about to experience something you did - it's a great feeling.

I just really, really need to stop buying them.

The Plight of the Small of Foot

I like knee socks in the winter. I wear my favorite boots almost every day, and while they are Thinsulate-lined, I like to have a nice pair of long socks to seal the deal.

Plus, it's cold here in January.

Semi-related side note (or as Mike calls it, "peripheral nonsense"): K-10 went to an all-girls Catholic high school, and was required to wear a uniform. She had to wear a skirt and knee socks, and in the midst of a Michigan winter, it was fucking cold. They used to only shave their legs from where their socks ended and where the skirts began, hoping to retain some warmth. Hilarious!

Anyway, there are two main problems I encounter when it comes to finding and purchasing knee socks:

First, my feet are mini, so I search in the children's department. This does not always bode well, considering that I find thin, inappropriately colored and/or designed socks, or... well, nothing much else.

Second, most adult knee socks are either thin, trouser socks or super thick, woolen Bigfoot socks perfect for camping in Alberta in February, not so much appropriate for wearing to work.

WELL, my mother, the miracle worker, pulled a fast one on Santa this year and bought me the awesomest socks to ever sock: soccer socks.

What's so amazing about soccer socks? Well, there is lots of elastic. They never droop! And if I want to throw some shin guards in there, I TOTALLY CAN.

I still have to wear an additional pair of socks underneath since my feet are mini, but they deliver on the two most important requirements: they are warm and lengthy. My feet and legs are happy. The end.

The Best Thing to Happen Thus Far in 2010

Mike's horrid neighbors are gone! GONE!

We noticed a change a few weeks ago, namely the lack of constant, ear-splitting noise. We figured that they had gone somewhere for Christmas break or something, and just relished in the quiet. Relished! Quiet!

But weeks went by, and they hadn't returned. It was quiet. It was peaceful. There was no screaming, crying, yelling, sobbing, stomping, punching, breaking, or power tools. Yes, power tools. At all hours of the night!

It is simply glorious.

We had no idea how bad it really was until they were gone. And while I still feel guilty about not calling the cops or child protective services on them, I have hope that their new - albeit extremely unfortunate - neighbors have bigger balls than I.

But really, don't you want to live in a place that has no garage, because they converted it into a BEDROOM? And wouldn't you want to live in a place that is advertised like this:

This is what the sign is leaning on - an abandoned stroller.
Because, obviously it is.

Oh, and this is the front stoop area.
LOOKS NICE.

There's my reflection. Hi!

If it sits vacant and attracts rodents and roaches, even the ginormous roaches found in DC (shudder), and they somehow migrate into Mike's adjacent condo, it would still be better than having that family return.

I'm not saying that I would enjoy rodents and dolphin-sized roaches invading my life, but seriously, that family was THE WORST.

Fully Comfortable in My Nerdiness

I came into work after the weekend to find this on my desk from my boss:

Awe.Some. AWESOME.
Also, that's my delicious Biggby mocha, making friends.

I dorked out in full dorkitude and completed all of the puzzles through the current date, and then had to put it in my desk drawer so that I wouldn't keep going.

It Snowed. Again.

That's fine, it's pretty.

The Focus greatly enjoyed frolicking in the snow.

Frolicking!

And then, of course, as no mention of sub-zero temperatures would make sense without a picture of the insane, roaming, neighborhood genius cat, here is Fluffy just sitting in my front walk. Just hanging out. It was about three degrees. Without factoring in wind chill.

Psy. Cho.

Reason to Love Ann Arbor #8

Alley Ants

It is the Perfect Solution for People (Like Me) Who Can't Turn Off Their Brains

I made a decision long ago to not let this blog turn into my diary. I don't want to give anyone a play-by-play of my day's events, I don't want to talk about the nitty-gritty of my personal relationships, and I don't want to have to stick to a certain theme. I mean, I love posting recipes, book and movie reviews, and occasional ridiculousness, but I wouldn't want to force myself to do the same thing every single time I try to write.

That being said, coming up with topics isn't always the easiest thing in the world. And what's irritating to me is that I come up with some of my most inspired ideas when drifting off to sleep or while in the shower.

Seriously!

I actually keep a notepad by my bed (I know, dork), and once in a while, I am motivated enough to crawl out of my cocoon of blankets and jot down whatever insane and random ideas have entered the depths of my brain. Usually, however, I consider writing my ideas down for a good while before inevitably give in to the warmth of my down comforter.

But the shower presents a problem. When I stumble from my bed to the bathroom in the morning, it takes me a little time to wake up, and after my teeth brushing and whatnot, I get into the shower with thoughts starting to enter my mind at last. (For example, this morning, I awoke thinking about the dream I had just experienced: I was at game seven of the Stanley Cup, between the Red Wings and Steve Yzerman was giving Darren McCarty a haircut at center ice.)

But there is nothing that I can do to remember them, because though they actually come to me, there is no guarantee that I won't be thinking about the scent of my shampoo in the next split second, thereby pushing the awesome sleep-induced brilliance down the drain.

So how fucking cool is the Aqua Notepad? I really, really, really want one. Really want one.

And that in no way makes me any dorkier.

But I Want it NOW

You know what I hate? Well, I hate so many things (including slow walkers, un-handicapped people who park in handicapped parking spots, bright white tennis shoes with business suits, and people on the bus who sit in the aisle seat and won't move over even if there is no where else to sit, GOD), but I have a point here. Maybe just a semi-point.

Well, really just a vent, because that's why I have this here blog.

But really, does anyone really enjoy the fact that you can only get some things at certain points in the year? K-10, for example, completely overdoses on Ghirardelli Peppermint Bark each Christmas season, because it's only available for consumption for like, a month. As in, she eats as much peppermint bark as possible in one sitting, and then gets up, goes to another room, and eats some more.

For me, I can't really think of a food that I love that is only offered at certain times, though I suppose hot caramel cider from Biggby would fall in that category. Whatever, it's still available now, so I can't complain. YET.

For me, this "seasonal product" idea concerns stuff. In autumn 2008, I discovered a certain scent of Bath and Body Works hand soap - Sweet Cinnamon Pumpkin. It was lovely and fresh, and reminded me of fall. After two months, I ran out. And the store had NONE.

After trying in vain to find it in stores, I discovered that, apparently, they run out of this particular scent in about two weeks

This year, I found Leaves. And it was EVEN BETTER than the pumpkin-y one. It was like an apple orchard on my HANDS.

And that one was sold out, too.

What is the limited edition/seasonal thing really all about? Is it so that we appreciate it more when it re-enters our lives? GAH.

You Guys, It's 2010!

Thus begins my sixth year of blogging. Five years under mah belt!

I know! It's a new decade, you guys! This is pretty cool. There are also other things that will happen this year:

This is the year that I will turn thirty.

This year will also be the first time that I begin a year in a job that I truly, truly love.

This is the year that I will mark my three-year anniversary with the love of my life.

This is the year that I get control of my finances (heh).

This is the year that I (hopefully) won't buy a bridesmaid dress, but perhaps another type of dress.

Kisses!