Big girl place

Today was a sublime day of excellence.

I will be moving in a week and due to some inconvenient, albeit fortuitous circumstances, (see previous post) I now have a 4G phone. This will come in quite handy to keep me from getting bored while I sit in my shiny new apartment, cold, in the dark, alone. (I will probably have to wait a week to turn on utilities because I am perpetually busy and their hours are TOTAL HORSESHIT.)

I am super happy about this move because, and I know this is weird, I don't like ham flavored ice cubes.


Yes. That is definitely what I said. Ham. Flavored. Ice. Cubes.

EWW.

You see, in my previous living situations, I have never come out on top. I seem to be magnetically attracted to liars, messy and/or skanky girls and those who are chronically lunatic-meltdown-prone. And they all look and sound normal. No one is safe. Most recently though, I have been living with 2 dudes.

The dudes have decided to pack the freezer with what can only be described as "man food". "Man food" seems to consist of meat and cheap popsicles. (The kind that taste okay until you realize the plastic pouch is murderously bad since it is made out of RAZORS OR SOME SHIT and slices your mouth.)

Delicious, right?

Clearly there is no room in such a masculine freezer space for feminine 'crap' (like vegetables or non-pork scented consumables) so I've basically been starving to death.

Anyway. Since I'm pretty sure ham is not meant to be frozen for a period of years, that would explain the  nasty flavor in the ice cubes. Considering the facts, I guess that really isn't too terrible but still, nothing makes cold beverages less refreshing than a strange ham aftertaste.

Murphy's Law apparently dictates that the lack of clean drinking water should result in absurd and perpetual thirst rivaling a rabid diabetic. Which it does.

I don't really know how to draw diabetes. Just use your imagination.

Other than the ham-cubes, life has only been slightly unbearable in small increments. That's what you get for living with dudes. From my understanding, dudes are smelly creatures with questionable hygiene and poor social skills. They play video games 24/7, eat, scratch in increasingly grotesque ways, make bad smells and monopolize basically everything.

Inconvenient.

 Sleeping at nighttime, when the outside is dark makes sense to me. For real.

Apparently, dudes prefer to use this time (especially before finals) to make smelly messes, really loud noises and scare Boyfriend's beloved cat into oblivion. Which I am positive, is conditioning her to become even more angry and unsettled. And clingier. And bite-ier.

Fantastic circumstances, really.


So when a big-girl-place fell into my lap, all I could think about was all the annoying boy crap I won't have to deal with anymore. And possibly a microwave NOT covered in unidentifiable substances all the time.

Instant. Love.

How much for an extra G?

About a month ago, my dad got bored and decided to give me a 3G phone. Since my phone at the time had only 2 G's, (or however many godforsaken G's normal phones have - I'm not a rocket scientist) I thought; "this seems like a fabulous idea."

So I went down to the phone-place and paid them a vast amount of money to give me cellular service. It very well may have been fabulous plan at one point. Unfortunately, it didn't last real long. Damn thing died immediately. (This conclusion came from my observation that usually, when buttons are pressed, things should happen.) So back to the phone-place went I, spewing curses and making awkward and unnecessary hand gestures.

I slapped it on the counter, scowled fiercely, pointed and grunted. (Obviously, I meant business). However, this merely resulted in me being informed by a lady with the longest fingernails I've ever seen telling me nonchalantly that it would only cost me about a bajillion dollars to fix my new phone or I could buy a new one for a slightly discounted price. (Read: save $2.)

I don't know why, but sales people like to make us feel bad about ourselves. As if I am just a lame sack of bones and hair unless I sign my life away to own whatever useless crap they are peddling at an inflated price. Lady Long Nails was no exception and she happened to be an excellent salesperson.

As I sat there, partially consumed with rage at the insanity of paying for a new phone twice and partially weirded out by the nails...

...my eye caught on something shiny.

I think one of my biggest flaws is that I am easily swayed. I am a telemarketer's wet dream. All that lady had to do was place something shinier and more expensive in my general vicinity and I was on that shit like the Grinch on Christmas. (Except I'm not green, or hairy or Christian. So...bad example...but you get the general idea.) I was all about poking a screen with my fingernail and knowing the weather in South Dakota in under two seconds. It made sense. I was home.

So instead of just yelling at her, bursting into a frustrated fit of tears or otherwise arguing until I got my way, I somehow managed to give her half of my bank account, my soul and my dignity and I left with a shiny new 4G phone.

So far I know how to poke it enthusiastically and yell.