Goth opera! The views are amusingly polarized, so let’s let Jrob and Jen fight it out with their differing opinions!
Did the usual thang with Mark and we tried a new Chinese place. After many years of being loyal patrons of China Bell, we finally admitted to ourselves that The Bell had gone south and my tasty vegetable dish was basically just grease-flavored. So, we gave Hunan Express a try. It’s a bizarre little place next to Sam Ash in Rivergate and, like every carry out Chinese restaurant on Earth, looks like you should expect food poisoning after you eat there. Why do Chinese carry-out places always have to be so sketchy-looking? It’s unsettling. Anyway, Hunan Express is owned by this dude and his wife (or some woman that I assume is his wife) and he talks into a little microphone to give her the orders, even though she’s only 7 feet away. “What’s in the Vegetarian Delight?” “NO MEAT!” Yeah. It was good, though. The only thing I would have changed was that there was a little too much whatever sauce poured over my rice.
Got up and did all of the dishes that had been languishing all over my kitchen, then went in to work to make a whole lotta text boxes for Giant Digital Magazine, which is just about finished. After that, I met Nat, Pearl, Lisa, and Shannon at Battered & Fried for an EIGHT-dollar sushi roll. It was good, but damn. I’m only going back there if someone else is paying…and I’m willing to repay the meal with sexual favors.
After Battered & Fried, Nat, Pearl and I went over to Red Door Midtown to meet kick-ass pilot gal Erin. The place was overrun with Vandy types who had apparently been drinking all day at steeplechase (steeplechase? hi, could you be little whiter?) so I was out of there by 10:30. I did, however, manage to finally consume an entire alcoholic beverage (amaretto sour) in a bar before closing on my house. OK, so it took me until age 30. Don’t judge.
Oh! I almost forgot: I finally got the dead microwave out of my kitchen. It had been sitting on the floor for two years (don’t judge me) because I recall only being able to lift it long enough to et it from the counter to the floor when I replaced it. When my well-meaning parents bought it for me, they got the most powerful (read: big) microwave they could find. You know, in case I felt like cooking a turkey or something. Over the years, I just stopped seeing it there… Anyway, my weight regime must be working because I carried that bitch out to the car without having to stop and rest or anything. My plan was to just drive around with it in my car until I had a boy with me who would help me throw it into a dumpster somewhere, but the lady at U-Haul (I was buying some super-large boxes) was like “I’ll put that in our trash if you want.” Sweet! Thanks, lady!
Got up and ran out to the car to get the extra-large boxes which, in Sunday’s strong winds, acted as a sort of kite that damn near lifted me off the ground. I packed all 4 of them, packing up almost everything in the kitchen and work room, except for some pots that I forgot about and some books of sheet music. I try to distribute the books over several boxes so I’m not totally screwed when I have to move those things around the house, and sheet music books are huge. This thought process did not, however, stop me from packing a 2-inch stack of black display boards into one box…I’m gonna have to tip the movers extra for that shit.
Since goth night was at Decades again this week, Jen and I decided to just hang out at Red Door East instead. I sprung for a Blue Valium…and then Jen surprised me with a second one. This, readers, is easily the most booze I’ve ever had in one sitting, as Red Door follows the rum/curacao/tequila/vodka recipe, as opposed to the blue mix/lemonade/vodka one. “Dude, he filled that thing up to HERE with liquor!” (Jen points about 1.5 inches below the rim of the glass.) “Yeah, but that’s mostly ice.”
At best, I was mildly tipsy, but I was really just so drowsy that my head felt like it was full of water. “That’s cause you didn’t drink them fast enough,” says Jen. A couple hours and a half Vivarin later, I was all good, except that my right contact had fallen out, making for an interesting drive home. “No, officer! I’m sober! I’m just blind in one eye!”
Took the day off work to chill and meet up with the house inspector. Those of you who read the previous post pretty much know how that turned out. For those of you who didn’t: yadda yadda yadda, the deal’s off. It’s too much work, and the seller’s previous behavior tells me that they will be willing to half-ass work if they think that they won’t get caught. I don’t need that crap. I can change a boob light or two, but I can’t fix the slope of a backyard. Did I mention that Metro Water went out there and also used the phrase “run like hell?” Cause they did. It’s time to move on to another house that may not be as sexy-looking but might actually be…you know…not rotting. It’s all about how you look at things like a bath fitter as opposed to a tiled shower: as long as you keep the price of the house down, you can get that tile custom-done. It’s just hard to keep the nerve to keep trying. We put together an offer on House 2, but we’re waiting for a disclosure statement before submitting an offer. Meanwhile, the seller from House 1 keeps trying to make me feel better. Oh we’re going to have a roofer come out and check the roof, we’re going to fix the moisture, blah blah blah. Whatever.
For a couple of days, I thought maybe I had this worked out. I thought maybe it would be time to think about all of the other stuff that’s been on hold. Work issues, boy issues, friend issues. I was able to point my brain in the direction of finding a place to go once I get laid off in December. I was able to send out emails to try and prove that my brain is enough. There have been no responses. This does not make for an untroubled mind.
While dealing with house drama (which is becoming the story of my life, btw), I headed over to Fierce to witness and document Jen’s new haircut. She manned up and got a Deathhawk, and it is most triumphant. There will be pix and a more thorough post soon, but for now you has to take my word for it. Afterward, we hit the beauty supply for teasing combs and Target for…well, whatever. “Whatever” in this case meaning “rogering the h.i.p. and Rimmel sections of the makeup department.” My mood sort of crashed after that and I went home to take a nap and regroup.
Got up to meet Real estate Lady at Starbucks to go over the house inspection and lick some wounds. “I just can’t do it. SO much would have to be done to make me feel good about this. I just can’t do it.” It’s too bad, but a gal’s gotta do what a gal’s gotta do. If they’re not willing to rebuild 1/3 of that house, I’m not willing to buy it. Sorry, dudes.
After that, I wandered around Opry Mills for a while and then hung out with jrob. This whole situation requires a stronger heart than mine, as my whole gut feeling is “do not trust this person.” I have forgiven stuff that happened in the past, but forgetting it would make me a damn fool. Trust can be earned back, but the other person has to want to make that happen and make an earnest and prolonged attempt. I don’t feel like this is going to happen, and I don’t feel like I deserve to be treated like a fixer-upper. I can go find someone who will be consistently nice to me. If I can’t find that person? Screw it. I have a cat and a PlayStation, and I can honestly say that I just don’t get excited about the idea of boys anymore. This isn’t to say that I’m becoming a lesbian, this is to say that I just don’t care. I don’t have the heart for it, and all of my heart’s strength is tied up in having to deal with house sellers who are bullshitting me and employers who wish that I would just go away. There’s just no more strength left after dealing with those things. Maybe, eventually, I’ll get the nerve and the brain worked out and be able to deal with the heart. Today is not that day.
No place like home,
The usual hang out with Mark ritual, this time with China Bell. I think it’s time for me to break up with Rivergate’s China Bell. The last few times we’ve gotten food from there, it’s been heavy on grease and light on taste. Sad, really. The mixed vegetable used to be so good.
Having left my laptop at work, I wasn’t able to do the “get up and wank around playing computer games” ritual of Saturday morning. This was completely intentional, though, as I had some tiny cartoon pants to do which required my to go to the office so I wouldn’t just end up napping. Thus, I took a giant walk which ended up being about 6 miles and taking for EVER. It was nice, but I shan’t be doing this again. After the giant walk, I took a shower and went in to the office to finish my tiny cartoon pants. After that, I went to East Nashville to grab a sammich and wait for Jen to be done hanging out with her family.
I have learned that the Subway on Gallatin Rd is perhaps the saddest place on earth. The were down to only white or wheat bread, they had no pepperjack cheese, and the drink fridge was empty, save for one old bottle of milk. Some dude even tried to panhandle me INSIDE the store, clearly not knowing the look of “I’m so hungry I might shiv you” Amy. On a related note, I was recently asked for a dollar by some random teenage girl in Dillard’s. “Hey, you got a dollar?” “Yeah, but not for you.” Don’t fuck with me, princess. I used to live off West End. I am impervious to your guilt trips, and I have been panhandled by people WAY more pathetic than you. Anyway, I went to Portland Brew to chill and eat my sammich, and then Jen called. She, Elias and I ate dip, had amaretto sours, and watched Sweeney Todd, and fun was had by all. Most triumphant.
I pick up jrob and we go to house #1 to meet Real Estate Lady. The house is renovated and decent, but I didn’t like it as much as another house that I’d seen and not made an offer on. Then we looked at house #2, which was more like 2 houses glued together by a pantry. It was comedic, sad, and too much work. After, jrob and I hit Mitchell’s Deli and watched…Sweeney Todd. Hey, I was totally up for watching it again. It’s good eatin’. Later, we made a trek into Nashville for season 1 of Hell’s Kitchen. Jonathan has finally seen the HK light, and has grown to love Gordon Ramsay’s for calling people donkeys and telling them to fuck off. Ha ha! You like a Fox reality show! You’re eating maggots, Michael! How do they taste?
Today, I emailed Real Estate Lady to say that I wasn’t feeling House #1…but I had reconsidered the house from 3 weeks ago. If it’s still on the market, I have made an offer that I’m comfy with…which involves making the sellers give me 1000 bucks to finish the renovation that they didn’t finish. You know, door knobs and such. will they go for it? Who knows. But I’m feeling very Ice-T today. I like the house enough now to appreciate the niceness of it, but I’m dispassionate enough to be able to drive a decent bargain. The house has been on the market since December, so the seller will either now be very open to negotiation or the seller is been a non-compromising hard-ass. Either way, I’m ok with it. So there. You people will not out hard-ass me today; I’m feeling very Ice-T.
Jen and I meet up for dinner at the new Calypso Cafe in East Nashville. Despite feeling that I wasn’t nearly hip enough to be there (seriously, Eastside, what’s WITH your hair?), I thoroughly enjoyed my beans & three and the company of The Jen. After dinner, we hit the beauty supply and had the intention to swing by Naughty By Nature to peruse their selection of leather, studded things. Sadly, Naughty By Nature closed down, so we went to the Jenna’s Toy Box next door.
Hav you ever seen someone smoking meth or crack on tv and thought, “where does one even GET a crack pipe?” Well, Jenna’s Toy Box sells them. I’m not talking about “tobacco” pipes. I’m talking about glass tubes with glass bulbs on the end. Craaaaack pipe. Since Jen and I have a disturbing tendency to end up at a porn store after eating dinner, we’ve decided that we’re going to do a photo series where we’re standing in front of various porn stores…preferably eating ice cream cones.
Pizza and Peeps (marshmallow and human) at Mark’s house, followed by the weekly Krogering. I don’t know what I was doing last week, but somehow almost none of the food that I bought got eaten. Thus, this week’s Kroger trip resulted in the purchase of cereal, pickles, and 3 boxes of sugar-free Jello.
Looked at 4.5 houses. The first one was the home of some renter who apparently hadn’t been notified that we were coming, and he was pissed. I figured that he was pissed because the house was filthy or something, but no. He was pissed because something illegal was probably going on in there. Why? There were four pitbulls (all of whom were separated from each other with cages) and a strong smell of air freshener. You and I both now that there are only 2 reasons that a single guy would own/use air freshener, and…well, I didn’t smell poo. Needless to say, that was not exactly the best showcase for that house. Scary.
There were a couple more typically sketchy houses, one that may have been cute (I couldn’t concentrate because the alarm was going off the whole time), and one that we couldn’t get into. We’re going to go back on Tuesday and see those again. Yes, readers, I feel kind of stupid for continuing to look at houses given the situation at work. But I was able to make my current rent back when I was broke from working at Vandy. I swear, it’ll be OK…and if it’s not OK, I can always do more freelancing or something. Or go work at Starbucks.
Saturday night, it was back to Calypso for Jen’s birthday dinner and then to Red Door for drinks. Well, there was a slight detour to Rivergate to go to Zen. We arrived there to be told that we needed to “go home and spruce up” because half of us were violating the dress code (t-shirts, hoodies, sneakers). Excuse me? Your bar is in RIVERGATE. Well, ok, says the manager as we were walking away, you can come in. We just need to look through your purse and frisk you. Excuse me? Your bar is in RIVERGATE. I didn’t want to be The Bitch Who Ruins It For Everyone, so I was going to go ahead and let Giant Sweatpants Lesbian frisk me. Oh, but wait! There’s a 10-dollar cover. What?
That was pretty much it. Manager Guy said that we wouldn’t have to pay the cover when we all started walking away, but by that time we were all feeling very “fuck you” about the whole thing. “You know what? I no longer want to give these people my money. Fuck this.” So, we went to Red Door and had a lovely time.
Washed all of the bed linens and then headed out to 80’s goth night for dancing and watching Jen fully enjoy her new 21-ness. It was pretty much the usual, and you haven’t lived until you’ve seen Fang Guy dance to “When Doves Cry” with no sense of irony.
It’s becoming clear that I’m going to have to start counting Thursday as part of the weekend, since this is the day that Jen and I usually meet for dinner. We met up at Tenno for vegetable hibachi (sooooo good) and then hit Maggie Moo’s. I got the cheesecake ice cream with strawberries (awesome) and Jen got the red velvet cake flavor (also awesome). My company needs to land the Maggie Moo account so we can all get some kind of gift card that entitles us to free moo for life. OK, maybe that wouldn’t be such a good thing. Which reminds me…
Headed up to Rivergate to eat pizza and hang out with Mark. Sadly, the visit was cut a bit short when I looked outside at 10:00 and saw 2 inches of snow. “Holy crap….I gotta go.” I’ve done such a good job of not smashing my car into things, and I’d hate to spoil it now. I almost didn’t even get away from his house, as (surprise!) a PT Cruiser is not exactly a good snow vehicle. I took I65 home, in some retarded hope that the highway would be a little better than Gallatin Rd. Not so much. I still had to do 20 mph all the way home, while having the shit scared out of me by truckers doing 50. Honestly, dicks. You’ve got 4 lanes. Do you REALLY need to pick the one right next to me? Anyway, I got home OK and only had trouble at the last stop sign before my house, where I slid to a 45 degree angle. Sweet.
Went over to jrob’s for pasta, bread, salad and the watching of Soylent Green. Somehow, I’d lived to be 30 without seeing it. Bad American! Dinner was tasty (and guilt-inducingly plentiful) and Soylent Green was good. I question the feasibility of The Scoopers, but hey.
Pretty much stayed inside all day sitting on my ass. In some attempt to make up for eating like a lumberjack for 3 days, I got in some treadmill time and had a big bowl o’ veggies for dinner. Tip: balsamic spray dressing works really well with raw broccoli because of all the little crannies in said broccoli. Just take a Beano first, as raw broccoli, like Wu Tang, ain’t nothin’ to fuck wit. You should only attempt it if you’re sure that you’ll be alone for the rest of the night, if you catch my drift.
I didn’t do goth night this week because I needed a week off and I felt like I should have my wits about me today. In order to make some extra cash for house stuff, I’m doing some light production work for my former employers. Talk about some kismet: I was looking on Craigslist for freelance work, and they just happened to IM me. Sweet!
It seems that the realty downturn has finally resulted in there being houses in Sylvan Heights that I can actually afford. I know I said before that I was aiming for a condo, but it’s worth the pain in the ass of having a lawn to be able to stay in almost the same neighborhood that I’m in now. Besides, Asli had a good point about condo association fees that can go up and up. A year ago, some lady at some bank kind of laughed at me for wanting to buy a home of a certain price. Now? There’s plenty. It’s just a question of finding a place that’s not in a sketchy neighborhood and not out in BFE. Finding a place that’s reasonably in-town where you won’t get raped and killed is hard in itself. On a related note, Katy was right about the Torbett/Batavia area. It’s sketchy and, apparently, a go-to destination for the sex offenders in the 37209 zip code (which covers Sylvan Heights and Torbett/Batavia).
There’s a certain address in Sylvan Heights that I’m stalking. Granted, there are a couple of sex offenders on the street in question, but they’re both old. I can take ’em. Anyway, the house is small, but big enough and looks as though it’s been well cared-for. Big plus: hardwoods throughout, which is almost a requirement now that I’ve realized that Murphy is getting old and may become incontinent. Better safe than peed on. I did a drive-by last night and, while the neighborhood is kind of trashy, it wasn’t nearly as scary as Dickerson Rd. If all goes well, the payment will be about what I’m paying in rent. I’m trying to get my parents to cosign so that I can maybe get a better interest rate, so tonight I have to do the Bruce Mauk credit check…which is, in some ways, harder than a normal credit check.
Anywho, the pics from Sunday are up. My face totally sucked in this picture, but my boobs look nice. Per the norm, Jen looks fabulous. Seriously, I gotta quit standing next to her in pictures.