Kristabella: Full of Snark Since 1977

Posted By Kristabella on June 3, 2009

First off, thank you, ALL OF YOU, for your comments and emails regarding my last post. It means so, so much to me to have such a supportive group of people, people I consider friends even though I’ve never met most of you, who read my blog and really care about my well-being. I appreciate all of you listening to my whining and complaining on the subsequent emails. So seriously, from the bottom of my pickled liver, THANK YOU.

And that’s about all I can write, because I’m currently sitting on the couch in immense pain. Because I threw my back out. It was like straight out of a sitcom. I walked in the door, set down the 50 pounds of cat stuff I was carrying from the car and BAM! I WAS NO LONGER ABLE TO WALK. Funny in sitcoms? Yes. Funny in real life? Fuck no.

At first I figured I was overreacting. Because hello, have you met me? I’m the Queen of Overreaction. I am the person who was convinced I was bleeding from the inside because I was overly tired. So I popped some Advil and went about my business of feeding the cats and continuing to lug the cat food and litter around. Like a fucking idiot. WHY would someone continue to lift heavy things and bend down to pick things up when clearly, something was not right with her back?

So then I yelled at the cats. Because I knew they wouldn’t even appreciate the fact I lugged their 20-pound bag of cat food AND a 30-pound tub of cat litter into the house at the same time. FOR THEM! They didn’t care because they were all “meow, meow, MEOW WOMAN! IT IS TIME TO BE FED!”

Then when I tried to walk over to the couch to sit down and COULD NOT because the PAIN! IT WAS BAD! I was like “Hmmm, something is definitely wrong. I feel like someone took the lower part of my spine and tied it in a knot and then ran over me with a steamroller.”

So I cried. Because, really, what else is there to do but cry? You can’t throw a tantrum because it hurts to move. You can’t punch a wall, you can’t throw things, all you can do is cry. Crying is good. It is therapeutic.

And then I searched through one of the many still-packed boxes and found my leftover Vicodin from my tooth drama. I actually thanked that asshole dentist OUT LOUD for being so shitty that I required better pain pills than Advil. So I’m going to take my pain meds, sit my ass in my whirlpool tub, pray for the pain to get better and hope I don’t drown.

Because if those fucking cats don’t care about my effort in procuring them food and a clean place to piss and shit, they sure as hell won’t care if I drown in the bathtub. They’ll just throw a party and invite their kitty friends over to feast on my blubbery remains.

Category: A Day in the Life of Me, Crazy Cat Lady, The Luck of the Polish | 24 Comments »
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Posted By Kristabella on June 1, 2009

I’m in a bit of a funk lately. It’s been going on for over a week and I was hoping once Aunt Flo came to town, my hormones would return to normal and I would be back to my normal self. But that hasn’t happened so me thinks it is more than just normal PMS-type symptoms.

I’m not sure what the deal is. Well, actually I’m pretty I sure I know exactly what the cause is, but it isn’t something I can talk about on here. It involves talking about those certain taboo blog topics and I’ve learned my lesson before with that.

But regardless, I’m sad. A lot of the time. All I want to do is sleep and watch television. I’ve actually been pretty busy, I’ve had a lot of plans lately, so I thought maybe I just wanted to hole up in the house because I hadn’t done it in awhile. And that could be part of it. I’ve been so busy with the move and things to do with friends and family that I haven’t had a lot of me time. I like being busy and having things to do. But I’m also really tired.

I’m sure it is a little bit of depression. Or a lot of bit. And I think I should probably go to the doctor and talk to her about maybe going back on medication. But I also know that there is a solution to this problem, it just isn’t an easy one right now in the state of the world.

I am just feeling left out and alone. Which is really fucking odd because I do have a lot going on and I’m not being left out. I have something planned every weekend until August. I’m not sure where those feelings are coming from, but they are there. I have fun when I go out, like last night for instance, when an afternoon of beer drinking turned into someone on the street giving us free Cubs tickets. I still go out and I still enjoy myself. Probably too much, if you ask my liver.

I think I need to just write it down and get it out. Obviously, I can’t do it here, but I think I need to get my feelings out somewhere and not complain all the time to my mom and anyone who will listen. Ask anyone who talks to me on Google chat. I’m a barrel of laughs mixed with 17 barrels of complaining.

I went by my brother’s this weekend because I needed some quality time with them. It was good to talk to them and get out some feelings that I don’t think I had ever expressed to anyone before. It was kind of a shock, as were the tears that followed. It explained a lot of my stress and anxiety and felt good to get out. And A LOT cheaper than therapy. It’s always good to see them because there are few things in this world that will turn my mood around like seeing my niece and nephew. Every time I am with them I remember what is really important in life and they give me a healthy dose of reality.

Especially when they come complete with a new pug puppy! Internet, meet Bella.

So I’m working through it. I’m trying to stay positive and realize that this isn’t forever and that things will get better soon. I’m trying to change my perspective on things and to let more things roll off my back. It’s hard. Every time I think I’m getting better with it, I take seven steps back.

I’m just going to push through and I’m going to keep doing all the things that make me happy. I’m going to keep myself busy and keep surrounding myself with the things and people that make me happy and remind myself everyday of what really matters in this world. It’s isn’t work or bills or stress, it’s good friends who come to town last minute when you need it the most and two kids who get really excited to see you and think you’re just the bees knees. That is what really matters.

Category: A Day in the Life of Me, Whine & Cheese | 36 Comments »
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Posted By Kristabella on May 27, 2009

So as we all know, one of the joys of living in multi-unit buildings is having neighbors. Who literally live on top of you. And to the side of you. And behind you. And under you. THEY ARE EVERYWHERE. But you get used to it. Because it comes with the fact that you share walls and floors with people. And you can only stop complaining when you either buy your own damn single-family house or when you’re old. Because old people are allowed to complain. Because they are old and getting old sucks.

I’ve actually very rarely been friendly with any of my neighbors. Through the years I have realized that this is because I don’t smoke. Because smokers hang out on their porches or decks and they meet their neighbors. I do not hang out anywhere besides my couch or bed because I’m lazy and totally anti-social and unfriendly. Also, if I meet you and befriend you, you probably will get mad when I talk about your stupid ass on my blog.

We all know my feelings on my old pot-smoking neighbors. I HATED THEM. While they were nice kids, they were just fuckwits with the world’s stupidest, fat-fingered friends that pushed the WRONG BUZZER ALL THE TIME. (Side note: I saw the one pot head dude when I was moving the last of my stuff out on Monday night. Thankfully he was on the phone and I didn’t have to tell him I was moving out all because of him and his inconsiderateness!) (Which I so would have never said because I avoid confrontation like Paris Hilton avoids panties.)

Back in California, I didn’t like any of my neighbors in the million places I lived. At one apartment, we lived below two whores who had sex ALL THE TIME. RIGHT ABOVE ME. My roomie was friends with them because she is nice and also needed someone to chat with while smoking on the patio.

At the first place I ever lived in alone, a converted garage behind a house, I moved out after six months because of the jackasses who lived in that house. They put the pot smokers to shame. They were loud. ALL THE TIME. And ALWAYS parked in my parking space. One time, while watching the Cubs in the playoffs, I screamed quite loudly at a good play. And the loud-ass neighbors were all “SHUT UP!” And then I yelled back “FUCK OFF!” They left me alone after that. And probably put water in my gas tank.

I figured I need to be nicer this time around. Since I live in a condo and we have board meetings and such. And I’m almost 32 so it is about time I am nice to someone I live near.

I haven’t met any of my neighbors really. My mom did. Because she smokes and she talked to someone outside. NOTE TO SELF – START SMOKING. But they seem to be nice. The one couple next to me, they have a dog. It’s a pretty big dog and it barks a lot. The cats are just now finally getting used to it.

Across the hall is an Indian/Middle Eastern couple. I only know 1) because of the name on the mailbox, 2) because of the sign on their front door that is written in what looks to be Arabic and 3) because they cook stinky food that smells up the hallway. Thankfully, that smell doesn’t make it into my house, otherwise I might be puking on the carpet next to the cats. I’m sure they won’t like it when I cook bacon, so we’re probably even.

The only other people I have met was a couple that I rode in the elevator with. I was in the process of bringing down a bunch of empty boxes that were cut down to throw into the recycling bin. In an effort to be the “nice neighbor”, I decided to make small talk on the two-floor ride down.

Him: Are you moving in or out?

ME: (Do not be a smart ass and point out you wouldn’t be taking empty boxes from your condo if you were moving in.) *smile* Moving in.

Him: Moving in? Then what are you doing with those boxes?

ME: (What is wrong with this person?) Yep, I moved in a few weeks ago. I’m throwing the boxes away. Well, recycling them. (Way to clarify, jackass. You clearly don’t want them to think you’re not green.)

Him: Oh yeah, I saw your truck. Why are you throwing them away?

ME: ……. *blink* *blink* Um, because I don’t need them anymore.

Him: So do you have a two bedroom? Or one and a half bedroom? How much did you pay?

ME: (Did he just ask me, totally nonchalantly, how much I paid? And what the fuck is a one and a half bedroom? My second bedroom is small, but it is a bedroom with a DOOR and a CLOSET.) Um, a two-bedroom.

Him: Oh. We’re moving out.

ME: DO YOU NEED ANY BOXES?

I know that purchase price and all that is public. I know this because I know what other people paid. And how much less than them that I paid. (One good thing about the recession!) But this is the SECOND stranger to ask me. The dude who came out for a blinds consultation asked too. So I told him I paid like some ridiculously low price. And then he was like “oh, are there any open units in the building?” And then I pretended I heard my phone ringing so that I didn’t have to talk to him anymore about housing prices and him moving into my condo building and criticizing me daily about not buying $1000 blinds from him.

You know, if this is what being a good neighbor and being nice is all about, I’m not sure I want any part of it. I think I prefer my typical curmudgeonly, snarky, drunk 30 something self instead.

Category: A Day in the Life of Me, Spinsterville Here I Come | 23 Comments »
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Posted By Kristabella on May 26, 2009

I’m in a bit of a blogging funk. You could probably go back and read numerous posts where I have said that same thing before. It goes in waves. It’s usually when I’m busy, or tired or cranky or sleepy or Doc. Oh wait. I thought I was naming dwarfs.

Anyway, sometimes I just want to come home from work, watch trashy television (Charm School was the trashtastic choice this evening) and just veg out and go to bed at a normal time. But I enjoy writing on here and I know the way to work through the blogging blahs is to keep writing. Even if I write a bunch of crap like I did yesterday with the whining about “Oh my arms hurt! Pity me as the President of the Lazy Club and my penchant for procrastination! But applaud me for my use of big words! BOW DOWN TO ME, I AM PRESIDENT!” I mean really, when your own mother doesn’t even comment, it is bad. (Hi Mom!)

So anyway, in an effort to keep writing, I’m going to tell you about my house. That I own. The one I pay a mortgage on. The one that I have lived in all of 17 days. The one that currently has two leaky windows in the bedroom and a leaky sink in the kitchen. Things I am now required to fix on my own! I couldn’t even have a month, house gods? Before you made something go wrong?

Before you pity me (and also laugh because “hahaha! That always happens once the ink dries, sucka!”), the biggest draw to this condo was the fact it was new. Yes that meant no ass had ever touched my bathtub and everything was shiny! And new! But it also meant that I got the developer’s warranty for a year on the off chance that something, or some THINGS, would go wrong. Ha HAH!

Now I expected something to maybe go awry, say next March, but I didn’t think it would happen less than a month after I signed my life away. But regardless, I am elated that I have it and for the next year, I just have to pick up the phone, like I was living in an apartment, and call someone to come fix it. FOR FREE.

The kitchen sink has been an issue since the inspection. It leaked then, but seemed to be fine during the final walk thru. Because apparently he stuck some gum on the leak and called it a day. I have since inspected every inch of pipe under the sink to see where it is leaking from. And have placed the appropriate plastic containers under said pipes to catch the water. I’m very scientific.

And since I know you all want photos, but that would require me to continue to unpack, I’ll give you a glimpse. (One of these days I’ll actually video tape the whole place without feeling like a complete asshole because I sound like I’m 12.) Here is said kitchen sink. Don’t I have lovely countertops and fixtures? Also, don’t I talk like a homeowner?

Forgive all the shit on my counters. It is part “sink is leaking and can’t put anything under there!” and part laziness. I earned my Presidency in The Lazy Club, you know.

Sink is part of the kitchen, see.

It’s as lovely as it looks. At the time this photo was taken, the dishwasher was just finishing up a load of dishes. There are so many awesome things about this kitchen, which make up for the leaky sink. One, the fridge, with freezer drawer on the bottom, which is FULL-SIZED! I don’t even know what to do with all that space. The fridge at my apartment was about half that size, which always made putting away groceries a real pleasure. *insert eye roll*

I also love the stove! That cooks! At the correct temperature! For the correct amount of time! It’s made cooking a joy! I cooked tonight, in fact. And then washed the dishes in the dishwasher! And then I wondered, THIS IS HOW THE QUEEN MUST FEEL!

Anyway, more photos, since that’s all you want. I mentioned my bedroom window has a leak. We had a hurricane a few weeks ago and I was at the Cubs game. Good place to be, no? Anyway, when I got home, I was greeted with this in my bedroom:

No the cats didn’t pee down the wall. Well, come to think about it…

No, I sniffed the carpet. It was from the rain. And I documented it so that I could call the developer and be all COME FIX THIS! Also, that is eerily close to the electrical socket. And no, that isn’t a plug-in. That’s a Feliway diffuser. It gives off cat pheromones and is supposed to calm cats down. A lot of good it did as the cats were peeing down the wall.

No seriously, it isn’t piss. I guarantee you.

Anyway, that window is part of my bedroom, seen here, with the new trend in window treatments – fitted sheets!

The best part is that even two-plus weeks later, every morning I wake up and think I’m in a brothel with the sun shining through a red sheet. And then every morning I say to the cats, “We’re in the Red Light District!” as a homage to my man Ludacris.

Mornings will be boring when I get blinds.

Anyway, that’s all I have. Because I still have to unpack. And should probably tidy up before I invite you in. And I should also unpack some more. Like the six boxes that haven’t moved from the front entryway since moving day.

But I am just glad all I have to worry about is unpacking and cleaning cat barf out of the carpet. And not fixing leaky windows because how the fuck do you leak under the window sill? It really was cat pee, wasn’t it?

They really shouldn’t have even let me sign the papers. Silly fools.

Category: The Hizzouse | 24 Comments »
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Posted By Kristabella on May 25, 2009

Oh how do I love long weekends, let me count the ways. One, two, three, seventeen.

It is amazing how just one extra day in a weekend makes me such a such a happy camper. I mean, can’t the rule just be four-day work weeks and three -day weekends for every weekend? I’d even go out on a limb and say I would even work longer in those four days just to get the extra day in the weekend. I’m not saying for sure, I’m just saying I would consider it. Think of all you could get done with one extra day per weekend! Think of all the TV to watch! Think of all the naps! THINK OF ALL THE WINE YOU COULD DRINK!

Take this weekend, for instance. I had ONE thing I had to do. Just one. I was so looking forward to this weekend because this was the first weekend in a long time where I didn’t have more planned than falling asleep on the couch in the middle of the day and catching up on my TiVo. All I had to do was go to my old apartment and clean it. I had THREE days to accomplish this. Easy peasy, lemon freezy.

Except, well, Saturday I didn’t do anything. And it was nice outside, but my couch and my TV were calling my name. So Sunday, was going to be cleaning day. Except as I was sitting on the couch, willing myself to have the desire to go clean, watching the Indy 500, my stepmom texted me and told me she was having a BBQ and did I want to come? So I said “OF COURSE! I need an excuse not to clean! Oh, and it will be nice to see you too.”

And I had a great time! The weather was beautiful, the beer was cold and the company was good.

Which meant I had to do everything at the apartment today. Because I stupidly told my apartment people that I would be out of the place this week. BECAUSE I AM NICE. And the person wants to move in a little early. So I figured that a few days isn’t worth fighting about. And I also figured that me being nice and agreeing to move out a week early = me not cleaning the apartment as well. SUCKAS!

So that’s what I did all day today. ALL. DAY. And in addition to cleaning, I also had a shit ton of trash to take down to the dumpster and about 17 bags full of clothes to take to Goodwill. All in all, I’m pretty sure I went up and down those stairs, those THREE FLIGHTS OF STAIRS, about 167 times. And every time, I was carrying something, usually somethings that were heavy because I wanted to make the fewest amount of trips possible.

But it’s done. For the most part. There is still a pile of things in the living room that I need to bring over to the condo. But after six hours of cleaning and schlepping, enough was enough. I was tired! And hungry! And whiney! And wanted to watch the season finale of Gossip Girl! (Speaking of, when was Dan in jail?)

So I’ll go by there tomorrow after work, when my arms feel even more like Jello, and schlep all that stuff back home. It’s only a few trips, so it doesn’t seem as daunting. Now. I’m sure tomorrow will be a different story.

But I will tell you that when I got to my condo, I rode up and down in the elevator for about 27 minutes straight. BECAUSE I COULD.

Category: Land of Random, The Hizzouse | 17 Comments »
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