Apparently I'm Not 22 Anymore

Going through my drafts, I found this one from 2015, which just shows you how far behind I am in the whole, "recording my thoughts" phase of my life. 

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I had heard for years that one's metabolism would eventually decrease, but never really wanted to believe that it would happen to me.

Oh, but it did! Apparently I now have to "watch what I eat" and "not eat pretzels and a can of frosting for dinner." Who knew?

Then came the great ankle-destruction of 2013, and I've been having trouble getting back into a shape that doesn't make me feel like this:

Larry, Mike's dude-bro, was in town this weekend, and his presence led to the UNHEALTHIEST weekend of caloric intake that I think I've ever had. It was fairly intense:

Friday dinner: Chipotle

Saturday breakfast: Coney Island

Saturday lunch: Taco Bell

Saturday dinner: ALCOHOL

Sunday breakfast: McDonald's

Sunday lunch/dinner: Hungry Howie's

Sunday's meals were really just cures for the ridiculous hangover I drank myself into, and since I do that kind of drinking fewer than four times a year, I felt somewhat justified in eating nothing but grease.

And now, though I always knew it, I fully realize that I am no longer a college student with the ability to magically stuff everything under the sun down my gullet. Also, I think that I truly know the meaning of the term hangover. 

Dump Cakes?

I don't know what that is, and I don't care to find out. 
-Lucille Bluth

Judgmental Cars

I suppose that it was fitting that my little baby Focus would flip to 100,000 miles on the same day that I traded her in for a younger, prettier model. Basically, I am a rich dude having a mid-life crisis.

Yes, I was driving when I took the picture. What, did you think that I would do the responsible thing and pull over? 100,001 is not the same as 100,000. IT'S JUST NOT.

(Also, like I could ever get that car to 140 mph. It would have blown the fuck up at 110.)

So here's the new (used) car! It's... another Focus. But it's shiny! And has leather interior and a connection for my iPod! Tori Amos whenever I want. THAT'S THE DREAM.

Maybe someday there will be a time without snow...

I LOVE this car. A 2011, it handles SO much better than the 2007. I don't think that I'll ever have a large car, just because I am so used to zipping around and parking pretty much anywhere. 

However.

This is the most judgmental car in the FUCKING WORLD. It has some pre-sets that are really getting my my nerves. For example, when I took it on the expressway for the first time, I heard a dinging. I looked down to see:

I was on the expressway. The expressway that has a speed limit of 70 mph. Which I was going.

(Also, Kari thinks that my dashboard looks like it's in Top Gun. I think that it's the colors...)

But the condescending judgmentalism gets better!

I think that the "speed limit" is an adorable suggestion, and most people in Michigan would agree. I usually drive somewhere closer to 80 mph because... I have places to be! If my car can get me there faster, I am going to drive faster. 

Now, you're probably thinking, "Jeez damn, I'm sure glad I don't live in Michigan with a menace like her on the road." And you would probably be correct in your assessment. I mean, I took these pictures with my phone while driving.

Anyway, I had to pass some dipshit, and I hear the dinging again:

What? I wasn't even to 80 mph! Top speed my ass!

Does anyone know how to break into the car's computer? Is that even a thing?

Eleven

Holy shitsnacks, it's 2015!

Yes, I am fully aware that I completely dropped the ball on this blog for the last half of last year, but I don't care! I got a new job and I suddenly CARED about what I was doing and didn't have time to be witty and clever!

(WHICH REMINDS ME. There is a new Jurassic Park movie coming out this year. MOTHERFUCKING DINOSAURS, BITCHES!)

Also, this is my eleventh year of blogging. You'd think that I would tire of hoping that more than six people would read my ramblings, but I haven't. NOT YET.

So I still have time to be witty and clever, but I don't want it to get in the way of my addiction to the bingo app that I downloaded to my phone. Or jigsaw puzzles. God, I love puzzles. 

Misuse of the Mails

With the exception of the AARP membership that I got when I was seventeen, this is possibly the weirdest thing that I have ever received in the mail:

I don't know why.

'MURICA!

Happy Independence Day, America! Today, I am thankful for my freedom and to the people who have died to make it so.

So here's a sweet picture I took back in 2005 when I lived in a neat place:

Pretty!

Being 24 years old and sitting on the National Mall to watch light balls explode over monuments? SUPER COOL. 

Being 33 and watching light balls explode over a golf course? SUPER BORING.

Also, Mike bought some cases of 'MURICA water:

Now THAT'S how you celebrate freedom.

Oh Sweet God!

I was working at the Medical School these past few months, and there are ALL SORTS of things that I encountered on a daily basis that defy explanation.

Trust me.

But here's a fun example: This is a photograph that hangs in the Dean's office space, and I am just assuming that it's a class of future doctors, NOT a class of future psychopaths. But every time that I walk by, I almost want to duck out of the way because it is fucking CREEPY.

Not so bad, right? Well...

OMG.

Clearly he is trying to STEAL MY SOUL.

Oh, HAI.

I have been BUSY. With THINGS. Important THINGS.

...

Not really. I'm just lazy.

Anyway, I'm not making excuses for LIVING my LIFE - I just thought that I'd let you know that I am, indeed, still alive. And chock full of stories!

Like yesterday, I saw books on the side of the road. They were spine down, pages fluttering in the wind, and I was both incredibly sad and seething with anger. THOSE POOR BOOKS. What kind of monster did this to you?

I mean, I was more upset about dead books on the side of the road than I usually am about dead deer and groundhogs and squirrels. Which says something about me? I don't know.

Anyway, it's SUMMER and it's AWESOME and life is GOOD. And I'm going to be better about this here blog thing. 

I'm Heather! I'm Disgusting!

Mike's bathroom has a better shower than mine. Mine is a tub shower with a shower curtain, and it's very nice, but his is a step-in, with sliding doors and little seats! It has a sauna effect, and if you're cold, it's the best place to be to get your blood flowing. He was in Dallas this past week for work, and I practically moved in there. For REASONS.

Sure, we could share - we did for a while. But take the fact that I have to get up earlier than him and couple it with the fact that he has a hard time falling back asleep once I'm making all sorts of noise in the bathroom that is just steps away from the bed, and you've got a very cranky boyfriend. 

The condo has two and a half bathrooms (I KNOW!), and so I carted all of my girly crap into the other full bath and set up shop. 

Mike's shower also has the distinct advantage of not being clogged with my hair.

So... 

I am usually pretty good about dealing with issues as they arise, but when said issues dictate my getting dirty or being uncomfortable, I tend to ignore them for far longer a period of time than I would most anything else. Example: cleaning out the fridge (I've actually paid my sister-in-law to do it for me before). 

Case in point - a majorly clogged drain.

You know how when your shower fails to drain as quickly as before? How you basically end up ankle deep in your own filth-water because it's failing to drain at an acceptable rate? Yeah, I am not going to tell you how long I allowed that to go on before I finally did something about it. But definitely be aware that there is a reason for the title of this post.

After a particularly shitty day, I was NOT leaving the house again. My shower that morning had been disgusting and I knew that it needed to be dealt with. But Mike had used the rest of the Drano weeks before.

To the internets!

I soon discovered that I could use household products - products I actually had on hand - for a more natural, chemical-free solution: baking soda and vinegar.

Basically, I made an erupting volcano in my bathtub. (Of course, this was after I used a hanger to remove all of the hair from the drain, leaving me dry heaving for a good five minutes. IT WAS SO GROSS.)

And you guys? The erupting volcano worked so well! Here's what you need:

• 2 cups baking soda
• 4 cups boiling water
• 1 cup white vinegar

Steps:

1. Pour one cup of baking soda down the drain
2. Pour two cups of boiling water down the drain and wait a few minutes. Apparently, this mixture helps to clean all of the slimy gunk from the pipes.
3. Pour the remaining baking soda down the drain, followed by the cup of vinegar. Immediately plug the drain, because it's volcano time! You'll hear sizzling from the chemical reaction going on in your pipes (dirty!), and little bubbles might escape. Give it a few minutes.
4. Unplug and pour more boiling water down the drain.
5. Repeat if necessary, re: you are disgusting like me.

Enjoy!

Fucktons of Snow and Asshole Kids

Southeastern Michigan got a fuckton of snow over the last few days, and the temperatures have dropped so dramatically that things have practically shut down. Except for my job! Nope, we never, ever, ever close.

Never, ever, ever.

Knowing this, I woke up earlier than usual, spent a good twenty minutes cleaning the FOOT of snow off of my car, and cautiously drove to work on a near-empty freeway. The roads weren't bad at all, in that I-94 is a free-for-all kind of thing, and I managed to get to work early.

And yet, I was the ONLY PERSON in my office to show up to work today even though the majority of my coworkers live in this city. This city that has reliable public transportation. That is free to all employees.

But if the boss gives you the option of working from home, I'm guessing that most people will take it. Except if the email is sent twenty minutes after you've arrived at work.

Balls.

But some people did trickle in over the course of the next few hours - mostly people from other departments, but whatever. One doctor showed up for a meeting for which only one person actually showed up. Because the schools were closed, he brought his preschooler with him to the meeting, and left him near my desk for over an hour.

He immediately turned on an iPad. At - what I thought was - top volume. After about a half hour of Mickey Mouse and his shriller-than-shrill voice, I had had enough.

"Sweetie, could you turn the volume down a little?"

His response, after slowly looking up at me with a frown?

"It already IS down a little." 

And then he turned it UP.

I don't have children. I don't know anything about how difficult it is to raise children, and I certainly would never be one of those dicks who try to give advice on child-rearing. But. I do know the difference between "being a four year-old" and "being a complete asshole of a child."

GAH.