Kristabella: Full of Snark Since 1977

Posted By Kristabella on April 23, 2009

I was actually going to post this (or something even more lame) last night, but then I went to a party at a friend’s house and proceeded to overstay my welcome and finish all the wine in the house. I’m an awesome party guest that way. It’s like I have this weird beacon-like homing device that will not let me go home when I know I am sitting in the vicinity of an open bottle of wine.

You can imagine how much fun I am in church during Communion.

Anyway, I was recently going through my photos on my iPhone and I forgot about some of them. And I thought “what better way to commemorate the last night before I have a mortgage than fun with photos!”

This first one is from the Minneapolis airport when I went up there a few weeks ago. If you were up early and following me on Twitter, you probably heard me talking about the band that was on my plane. They were very granola-y and wearing orange and black blazers so of course I figured it was the Oregon State band. Because there is NOTHING to do in Corvallis. Therefore weird people go there. Oh, and Michelle Obama’s brother coaches there.

Turns out, it was the Princeton band. And people in Rhode Island New Jersey (thanks -R-!), at least people in Rhode Island New Jersey that go to Princeton and join the band, are weird. And look like they don’t shower. And the Princeton band has a song. They sang it to us on the plane. EARLY in the morning. I know what you’re thinking “so they sang the fight song? Who cares?” NO. THEY SANG THE PRINCETON BAND SONG. Something that went something like “we are the Princeton band. We don’t shower or shave. We’re kind of smelly. We like stickers and buttons on our blazers. La dee da dee.”

Something like that.

Oh yeah, and they were wearing barbershop quartet hats.

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Our next photo is of a funeral home I saw on my way home one day.

And then I started singing the Gwen Stefani song. So I hope that I don’t ever have to go here for a funeral because singing Hollaback Girl at a wake would probably be a little inappropriate.

(Side note: Dear family members, since I don’t have a will, let this serve as my final wishes. This is the funeral home I want to service my dead body in the case of my untimely passing.)

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The last photo is of the Hooters by my work. I actually laughed out loud when I saw it.

And then I noticed today that the other side of the sign is IN Spanish and translates to “This sign is always in Spanish.”

All that Mexican food I’ve consumed has really come in handy for my ninja-like Spanish translating skills.

Now I must go pack. Because tomorrow afternoon, I will be a homeowner! SQUEEEE! And by pack, I mean shove food into my face and watch TV.

Category: Land of Random | 23 Comments »
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Posted By Kristabella on April 20, 2009

For those of you on Twitter who actually read my tweets, this will probably be old news. But I don’t care because I’m going to share it ANYWAY! Because it is exciting and long overdue!

I’m finally going to close on my condo! THIS CENTURY! Can I get a woot, woot?

Dudes, you have no idea how happy this makes me. I haven’t told this to a lot of people, but the longer this thing was dragging out, the more I felt like I was making a huge mistake. I thought that maybe it was fate telling me to turn the hell around and run the other way. QUICKLY! I debated about just cancelling the whole contract and losing my earnest money and renting for a bit longer. Because as I’ve shown, when I let my mind wander, I can convince myself of most anything. INCLUDING HEART ATTACKS!

This is also why I watch so much TV. Distractions, I needs thems.

So finally, I will be closing on Friday. The official word came down from my lender this morning and all parties were notified and HOLY SHIT I’M GOING TO BE A HOME OWNER! FINALLY!

It has been a really hard process. On one hand, I am super thankful that it worked out this way. Now I get to move in May and not double up with rent and a mortgage. This is exactly what I wanted. On the other hand, this went on for too long and probably gave me an ulcer. Because when you keep telling people it is delayed and that you have no closing date yet, people, especially people who have been through the whole buying process, they tend to give you a look. A look that says “I’m so sorry. Clearly you are not financially stable enough to buy. It’s the only reason for the delay. Better luck next time, sweetie.”

And well that look doesn’t really help with the ulcer and the constant worry.

I FINALLY found out the reason for this delay. See my lender, he is severely lacking in the communication skills department. He tells us nothing. I mean, he’s the man with the scoop. No one else in the process knows anything unless he tells us. And he told us nothing.

Until Friday.

See, Thursday night, after yet another email telling me the loan was still delayed, I finally reached out to my realtor (still awesome!) and was like “I’m not gonna lie, I’m totally starting to freak the fuck out. I mean, does a loan stay in underwriting this long and then they just pull the plug? Am I going to end up homeless???”

She said she thought it was because of new regulations, etc. and that they were just backed up with all the loans and re-fis. I mean, she didn’t know the reason for sure, but she had to talk me off a ledge. She later told me “you’re like my most laid back client, so the fact that you were freaking out had me freaking out!”

She finally got a hold of my lender on Friday morning and got the scoop. Almost a month after the original closing date, we finally got the dude to tell us the whole story. I’m sure my realtor yelling “MY CLIENT IS GOING TO BE HOMELESS!” helped him spill the beans.

The delay was because the property management company filled out the condo questionnaire incorrectly. Instead of yes/no answers, the dude wrote full answers. So when the underwriting people and the bank saw this, all sorts of red flags went up. New documents would have to be written to reflect this questionnaire. So there was much fanagaling and fixing documents and re-doing things, etc. Basically one guy who couldn’t follow directions slowed the whole process down. Because the guy who actually is in charge of my property, winters in Florida, so some underling was chored with filling it out. Which he did so. Incorrectly.

Whatever! I don’t actually care anymore. I’m glad the issue wasn’t with me. And it wasn’t with the building. And now I have a loan! And will be signing my life away on Friday at 1 PM! And will soon be able to wash my underwear without stepping foot outside. ISN’T IT GLORIOUS?

Now I just have to pack. I started last night and got through half a closet and one cabinet in the kitchen and already have five boxes. This is going to take awhile. I probably should have started in March.

But who cares! I’m going to have KEYS soon! And it will be ALL MINE! A washer! A dryer! A dishwasher! I’m so glad that I’m not going to regret purchasing dishwasher liquid!

And now I plan to cross my fingers until Friday. When I have to uncross them to sign the papers.

Category: House Hunting | 38 Comments »
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Posted By Kristabella on April 19, 2009

I took a nap this fine, rainy Sunday afternoon. And by afternoon, I mean after 3 PM. We are all smart enough people to realize that in doing so, I’m going to be a crabby mess on Monday because I’m going to be tired and whiney because afternoon naps mean I am UNABLE to go to bed on time at night time.

I had my reasons. One, when I was driving home from my brother’s, my friend Lara asked me if I wanted to go to the Cubs/Cardinals game tonight. Part of me was going to say no because I have shit to do. Like packing. But then I smacked myself in the face because HELLO! CUBS GAME!

There was a high chance the game wouldn’t be played. It’s been raining since last night. And is still raining. But just in case there was going to be some odd break in the skies, I took a nap so I could be rested for the hypothetical game. They postponed the game until July.

I’m sure you’re wondering why I was tired enough to take a 2 1/2 hour nap on a Sunday. Well, as I mentioned, I spent the night at my brother’s house on Saturday night. And as I think I’ve mentioned before, my bedroom is in the basement (yes, it is still my room even though I haven’t lived there in four years) is directly under the tiled floor of the kitchen. And two of the residents of the house are children – loud, running children who get up way too early. So while I usually sleep well there, I don’t always sleep enough.

This time was different, though. See I didn’t sleep because I was pretty sure I was having a heart attack.

I’ll pause here while that sinks in.

I’ve written here before about the ideal sleeping conditions of that basement. The last time I slept over, I rolled over and since it was so dark, I didn’t know where I was. And then actually thought I was in a crib. Needless to say, I’m not convinced my brother and SIL aren’t filling that mattress in the basement with hallucinogens.

Anyway, I went to bed just fine, Saturday night. About an hour or so later, I woke up in a jolt, like I was startled. I was immediately confused because why was it so dark and I was sleeping pretty much on top of this:

But I got super wound up and my heart was pounding and the room was spinning. I then think I started freaking out. And I wasn’t sure why. When I finally remembered where I was and what was going on, I realized that my left arm was hurting. Badly.

I went up to the bathroom, just to calm myself down. And then I realized my arm was KILLING me. It wasn’t like tingling or anything or felt in any way like it was related to my heart. It took me a few seconds to remember why it was hurting, but I finally remembered that I spent a majority of the evening on the couch, lying sideways and resting my head on my hand and putting all sorts of awkward pressure on my elbow and left arm.

I was 99% sure that was the cause of the weird pain. But then, because of the hallucinogens (there is no other explanation), I convinced myself it was a heart issue. And then proceeded to do nothing about it besides tell myself that the only way not to die in my sleep was just to NOT fall asleep. Clearly, that is reasonable.

So I was lying there, half awake and paying attention to my heart beating and my breathing. And then because I’m a fucking idiot, I would get so upset with listening to my breathing and paying attention to it (no, don’t ask me why I thought my breathing was indicative of a heart attack) that I would forget to breathe and then  proceed to freak the fuck out because I WAS DYING. And then I would take a breath and be fine. Clearly my sore arm, that was sore for a very good reason, was giving me panic attacks.

I would finally start to relax and then start to fall asleep, and right when I was getting to that point where I was getting into a deep sleep, into the REM cycle, I would somehow remember HEART ATTACK! and then would bolt myself awake. This went on for hours. HOURS!

Finally, I got over the anxiety and finally fell asleep. I think it was between 3-4 AM. Which wouldn’t be so bad if I were at home, but I was sleeping below the stampeding kids, so I didn’t get to sleep in.

So there’s my long-ass explanation of why I’m so tired. I told my brother about it this morning when he asked how I slept. And he was like “if you thought you were having a heart attack, why didn’t you come get us?” And I was like “because I was drugged and that part of my brain that remembered how to walk up the stairs was not working. Also, I knew it was just a stupid sore arm.”

I think I’m joining a gym on Monday. And no more cookie dough ice cream right before bed.

But my visit with my niece and nephew was a lot of fun. I hadn’t seen them in two months. And I even got a free manicure from my 3 year old niece. See, aren’t my nails pretty?

I got some weird looks when I handed over the cash to the guy at the drive-thru window at Taco Bell. I’m also pretty sure I’ll forgot to take it off before I go to work tomorrow.

Category: A Dash of the Crazy, All in the Family | 17 Comments »
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Posted By Kristabella on April 15, 2009

I’ll warn all of you right now that this post may only be funny in my head. I haven’t had a lot of sleep lately.

So remember when I ranted on Sunday night about my cats puking EVERYWHERE? Including on my BED? Well, in the comments, Amanda Nicole was all “maybe she is sick.” And I was touched because here was a stranger that cared more about my cats than I did. But that was mostly because I was pretty sure my cat wasn’t sick and that she was just a bitch. My theory was proven the next night when I came home to no puke whatsoever.

I know this because, unfortunately, I know my cats. And I can pretty much guarantee the following is how it all went down. Maybe. Something like this.

(A few things to note – Kitty Kitty is the girl cat, the barfing, furball cat. Simba is the boy cat, the tan, puke-free, sane cat.)

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Scene: Casa Kristabella some time Easter Sunday

Situation: Cat food bowl EMPTY!

Oh my God! What will they do? How will our two cats, Kitty Kitty and Simba, survive hours alone, with no food?!

Kitty Kitty paces around the living room and looks to Simba and says:

 

Simba wakes up from his nap, from all her SCREAMING OF DOOM AND GLOOM, and looks to her to calm her down when…

“Oh good Lord,” Simba says. “This is going to be one long-ass, motherfucking day if she’s puking like this.”

Simba reminds Kitty Kitty that they have the WHOLE HOUSE TO THEMSELVES! There are plenty of things we can do!

Just then Simba looks to distract her and tell her something when…

“Look!” Simba yells! “Look what we can do! Look here, cat! Something fun to distract you!”

“I DO NOT GET IT!” Kitty Kitty whines. “We will never be fed. NEVER! My life is going to be cut so short! I’ll never get married! I’ll never have kittens! I’ll never kill a bird!”

Simba swats her in the face to get her attention to tell her she needs to snap out of it. She needs something to take her mind off of it. The Owner Giant will be home soon. He just knows it!

Just then, Kitty Kitty gets real quiet, almost whispering, “I can’t go on Simba. I just can’t. Tell the Giant how much I loved her and that I puked in her shoes in the closet. But remember to remind her this is ALL HER FAULT!”

Just then, there is a rattling at the door. It sounds like keys! The Giant Human is home! “We’re saved!” yell the two cats in unison!

And the Giant Human learned her lesson to never be lazy enough to let them run out of food again.

The End.

P.S. This is why I’m still single.

Category: Crazy Cat Lady | 33 Comments »
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Posted By Kristabella on April 14, 2009

So remember when I got bangs? And before I did, Rhi was all bossy and said “don’t get them if you don’t get free bang trims.” And I was like “who is this Rhi person, anyway?”

Well, I would get free bang trims. If my hair salon wasn’t like 50 miles from my house. See, it is cheaper out in suburbia and I love, love, love the girl who does my hair. So yeah, what I spend in gas, I could probably use to get my hair cut at a salon in the city that I could walk to, but then my hair wouldn’t be awesome. And I would be mad. Because I like to be all “it’s only hair, it will grow back.” But I only say that because my stylist doesn’t fuck up my hair.

Anyway, so about a week and a half ago, I went for my eyebrow wax. And since I get them done in a salon, and since my bangs were poking me in the eye and having daily fights with my contacts, I thought I’d get them trimmed. Since I’m such a good customer there, I figured they would trim them for like $10. Which they did. Problem is I ended up looking like Janeane Garofalo in Reality Bites.

OK, I exaggerate. Just a little.

Here is what they look like:

Not too bad, I know. But also TOO SHORT! And shorter bangs make my face look fatter. And I know what you’re saying “no, the box of cookies you jammed into your pie hole makes your face look fat.” To which I say “touche, my friend! But I like the illusion!”

See the problem is, when I sat in the chair she asked, “do you want them at brow level?” And I said yes. And since I had just had my eyebrows waxed, there was no missing the RED UNIBROW that was my brow level.

When she asked, it wasn’t like I looked like this:

Because that would be at brow level. But sadly I’m not constantly walking around in a surprised state. I’d get a headache.

So lesson learned. My eyebrow wax salon might be good at just that. And next time, I’ll trim them myself. Or wear a damn headband until my next hair appointment.

(So I just looked at my old post from when I first got bangs, and they are like the same, short length. So apparently this was a post about nothing at all. But I still love my stylist best!)

Category: Hairapy | 32 Comments »
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