Category Archives: Stupid

STAY AWAY, FIRE

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So last month, there was a fire at Boyfriend’s apartment complex.  The occupant who lived above Boyfriend’s next-door neighbor left something cooking on his stove as he walked to the corner store.  It was on a Sunday evening, and Boyfriend and I had been relaxing when we wondered why we were smelling smoke.  Moments later, Apollo started barking frantically and we saw the living room fill with smoke.  We grabbed the essentials – I grabbed the puppy and my purse, while Boyfriend grabbed his laptop that held all his research data.  Then we ran outside, where a fire department was already battling the fire.  We stayed outside for an hour.  Apollo shook the whole time.  Boyfriend got interviewed on the news, with Apollo panting frantically in his arms.  Luckily no one was injured and all units (save for the source of the fire) were relatively unharmed.

Even though the fire happened about a month ago, Boyfriend’s apartment still smells like someone had an indoor barbecue in it.

This evening, I had just finished taking Apollo for a walk.  I was doing chores when I smelled something…familiar.  I looked at the dog.  “Apollo,” I said seriously.  “Is there a fire?” I inspected the apartment and to my alarm, I could smell smoke. I grabbed my purse and cajoled Apollo into my arms with a doggy treat (he’s going to puppy classes next week, incidentally).

I walked around the apartment building and didn’t see any fire.  Hesitant to call the fire department unless I could visually spot the fire, but not wanting to lose any of my belongings, I went back upstairs.  I knocked on my neighbor’s door.  We met this year; he has two beagles that Apollo is very fond of.

“Um, do you smell smoke in your apartment?” I asked. “Oh yeah, that was me,” he laughed.  Guess what happened?  He left his pan on the stove and walked to the leasing office.

DAMN IT.

I really want to make a public service announcement on billboards everywhere – “DON’T LEAVE YOUR FUCKING STOVE ON IF YOU’RE GOING TO STEP OUT OF YOUR APARTMENT OR HOME.  GOD.”

And now this place smells like smoke. But not the barbecue smell that Boyfriend’s apartment has, just smoke. Lovely.

WHY SPEAKERS, WHY?

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I was at work today listening to a Dateline episode.  It was a Chris Hansen segment about finding hit men and drug dealers on the web, so you KNOW it was going to be good.

I received a phone call in the middle of it.  As I put down my headphones, I realized, to my horror, that, AGAIN, the program was bypassing my headphones and playing straight out of my speakers.

Which means that the rest of my coworkers must have been listening to the “Wild Wild Web” story, too.

DAMN IT COMPUTER. WHY?

Excuse me while I go hide in shame.

An Aborted Attempt At Breaking My Limbs Part REALLY?

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I am tired.  It is late, and I am cleaning a bit before bed.  I had a coughing fit earlier and am crossing my fingers that it is not a sign of something more serious on the horizon.

My kitchen has pretty much been taken over my puppy.  He is currently sleeping in his little kennel, which is right next to the oven.  His puppy bed (which I had to sew tonight since he chewed a hole in it and started eating the stuffing enthusiastically) is sitting on the other side of the kitchen.  Various toys litter the floor.  Puppy gates are set up on either side of the kitchen.

In other words, TRIPPING HAZARDS ARE ALL UP IN HERE.

Guess what.

The past two attempts I had at breaking my limbs involved running while tired.  This time, I was simply tired.  I attempted to step over the puppy gate but did not clear it properly.  Cue Jenny falling on the carpet.

You can bet that this internal dialogue was happening:

Me: NOOOOOOOOOO. NOT AGAIN. My shoulder just started feeling better!  I can’t hurt it again! I have field work tomorrow!  NOOO. NOOO. NOOOOOOOOOOO.

I landed on my right side, with the impact mostly at my wrist.  I am lucky – nothing feels weird or out of place. My right arm feels slightly, slightly stiff, but I could just be overthinking it. I think that falling on the carpet is really what saved this aborted attempt from turning into a success.

I need to go to sleep.

And seriously, body, STOP TRYING TO BREAK YOURSELF.

Stalking is Not a Good Business Strategy

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This weekend, I was driving through parking lot. I had an important mission ahead of me – procure and eat Vietnamese food.

I was driving past a pickup truck in a parking lot when one of the men in the passenger seat rolled down the window and motioned for me to do the same. I nervously drove past him.  Even though I had Boyfriend sitting next to me, I have learned not to roll down windows when strangers ask.  Besides, there were plenty of cars behind me; if there was an emergency, the men in the truck had other resources besides me.

I drove farther down the parking lot and settled on a spot outside of the Vietnamese restaurant.  As I unlatched my seat belt, I noticed the pickup truck slowly pulling up beside me.  “Did they follow us?” I asked incredulously as the driver rolled down his window.

Boyfriend calmly recommended that I move to another spot.  As we both gave the truck occupants annoyed looks, I noted a sign on the truck that immediately escalated my irritation into anger.

Pop-a-Dent, it said. And suddenly, it all made sense.

It’s important that I tell you all that both sides of my truck are dented from two separate parking garage incidents (basically, my spacial perception sucks and I scraped my truck against columns). And by “dented,” I mean very noticeable large dents.  The paint job around each side had been damaged by the incidents.

The truck has gotten more questions than my constant change of hair color has.  Many times, I’ve had to force a smile on my face as a well-meaning coworker asks, “…what happened to your truck?” I get tired of explaining it.  While I can make fun of myself about it and laugh it off, I understandably get irritated after getting teased about it all the time.  Several years ago, when I was in an HEB parking lot, a man walked up to me, handing me a business card. It was for a body shop.

For some reason, that incident didn’t irk me as much as a truck following me around, desperate for my business.  Did you not get the hint the first time I ignored your request? I looked up the business on Yelp (obviously, I changed its name), and it received horrible reviews.  Typical.  If you have to resort to stalking women in a parking lot for business, I’m going to venture a guess and say that it wasn’t so hot to begin with.

A Preemptive Apology to All Cat Owners

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The other day, a coworker and I were discussing pets.  I have a bad habit of going into pet stores and then falling in love with whatever baby animal is for sale.  If I were an impulsive person, I’d already be a mama to a baby dachshund and kitten.  But no.  I left the warm, snuggly puppy behind and didn’t buy it, even though I must have cuddled with it for thirty minutes. (It was hard. HARD).

I was telling my coworker this when she said, “Don’t get a cat.”  “Well, yeah, my apartment deposit is $500 and pets are a lot of work,” I replied, thinking that she was being practical.  But she interrupted again, saying, “Don’t get a cat.”  “Why not?” I frowned.  “Well,” she said in a conspiratorial tone, “my fiancee and I think that people who like cats are…weird.”  “…what?” I replied.  “Yeah, like, if a woman has one cat, then it’s okay.  But guys who like cats?  That’s just weird.”

I immediately thought of all my male friends who own cats, who are all normal, functional members of society, and are not “weird” at all.

“My guy friends grew up with cats and have cats,” I retorted.  “What’s wrong with that?”  “I’m sorry if I’m offending you,” my coworker went on, “but we really think that people who like cats are weird.” And to make her argument more justifiable, she said, “Even his friends think that if they want to date a woman who owns a cat, she’ll lose a couple of points.”

My face was probably like this by then:

So, sorry, cat lovers.  You are all just WEIRD.