September 28, 2007

Conundrum

It went down like this:

Last weekend an upstairs neighbor came down, and pseudo-introduced himself. But he wasn't coming down to borrow milk or a cup of sugar. Instead, it was a more of a diatribe barely staying on this side of civility. He asked me if I smoked and I responded in the affirmative. He then went on a tear about how the smoke wafts up to his unit, and he hates the smell, and his wife is pregnant, and the moon is going to fall from the sky and kill all the cute ducks in the pond. Not really. He did demand that I no longer smoke on my balcony and go somewhere else. I looked at him and said "whatever. It's nice to meet you." and closed the door.

Don't get me wrong here, I'm very conscious of the smell of smoke and I try my best to minimize the smell and smoke to others around me. I try to be very considerate. However, this asshole is the same neighbor that I caught spitting and throwing water on Roxy from his balcony. We've also found nails and some weird jello-like substance on the balcony. Somehow, I can't seem to make myself care about this idiot when he's terrorized my dog. Also the Major and I own the place. How dare he tell me what I can and can not do on my own property?!?

Now I understand that one gets into a tricky spot with issues like this. He should be able to keep his windows open and enjoy the fresh air if he choses. Just like I should be able to smoke on my balcony if I so desire. Personally, I hate the smell of smoke (cigarettes and cigars), but if the windows are open and our nextdoor neighbors are out on their patio smoking a few cigars, I close my windows or I deal with the smell. I realize that living in a multi-unit structure means there are somethings you just have to put up with.

Anyway, this guy was so much of an asshole, the Major -- who has been screaming loudly for ages that I need to quit -- told me "you should go out on the balcony and smoke a whole pack right now."

September 27, 2007

It's Official: The Bitch Is Mine

Shortly after the Major and I moved into Condoland, we decided it was finally time to get a dog. The idea was that since I 'picked' the cat, he would be the one that got to 'pick' the dog. (Anyone who's ever adopted an animal from a shelter knows that you don't choose the animal, the animal chooses you.) The Major's reasoning was that he wanted the dog to be primarily bonded to him, much like Bosco bonded to me.

But there was a flaw in his cunning plan: we adopted Roxy when the Major was better known as the Hobblenatrix. (This is a another story in and of itself, but the long and short is that he had a broken ankle.) For the first 2-3 months, I was the one that played with the dog, walked her, potty trained her, and taught her other commands. It doesn't take a rocket scientist to figure out what happened. Just come over to our house and watch what happens when we let Roxy out of her crate. She'll make a bee-line straight for me and ignore everyone else. Eventually, she'll notice the other people, greet them and play with them. Eventually.

Roxy declared her allegiance openly and officially last night. When I fell asleep last night, Roxy was sleeping in her crate and the Major was preparing to sleep in the guest bedroom. (He's not in the doghouse, he's sick and didn't want to spread the love.) Around 4 in the morning, I tried to roll over, but there was something pressing against the back of my head and shoulder. I thought it must be a pillow because I was only about 1 foot from the edge of the bed. I soon realized that it was Roxy. She had balled herself up as small as she could make herself and wedged herself between the edge of the bed and my head so she could be as close to me as possible. As I was processing this information, she gave me the "it's not time to get up yet Dad what are you doing" look. I slid over to the other side of the bed, and Roxy spread out a little bit -- just enough so that some part of her was still touching me. She could have slept on the empty half of the bed, or on the empty half of the bed with the Major in the guest bedroom. Instead, she decided she wanted to sleep more-or-less on top of my head. Sorry Majorica, this is Brandi -- the dog is mine.

September 24, 2007

Offroading

Sorry I've been a little incognito of late. I had a touch of the flu earlier in the month. Then my neck really flared up and I had to get all my meds refilled. (And I was doing so well, and not taking any painkillers at all. le sigh). And to round out the triple play, I came down with a severe chest cold that was probably bronchitis.

Also, I've been working on some RL projects that have been absorbing a lot of my time. Way back when I was just a tiny AJ, my grandfather taught me the joys of cross-stitch. Everytime I'd go over to their house he was working on some piece, and it intrigued me. He won many awards at fairs for his works. I've kept with it over the years because it reminds me of him, and it's also one of the few 'arty' things I can do. I didn't get the drawing/painting gene that my grandmother seems to have. And I only got a moderate dose of the musical gene. That being said, I've been working on some Christmas presents -- hopefully, I'll finish them before December 25.

Finally, I've rediscovered the joys of Tad Williams' series Otherland. I'd forgotten how much I loved these books when they came out. So, I've been reading them. Oh, and I finally rounded up Bones Season 2 on DVD ... so I've been watching that.

September 13, 2007

Tricksy Sneaky

You've really got to keep an eye on those hurriwhos these days. For what seems like the billionth time this season, I've went to sleep and woken up to discover that a small tropical depression has marshalled it's forces and become a hurricane. Of course, this pleases me because I'm all about the edutainment. But it's also a bit scary that storms are intensifying this rapidly. I'm sure if hurricane Hermione or whatever the H-named storm is hadn't been so close to shore, it would have gotten stronger.

I am waiting patiently for depression #8 to form into a nameable storm. Because then we'll be that much close to seeing my namesake becoming a hurricane. Granted, for those of you that know my real name, the name will be misspelled ... but I can deal with that. I'm hoping it becomes a massive nasty evil storm that takes out everything from South Carolina to Mississippi.

The Art of Being Ridiculous

It looks like there are some people out there who don't understand the definition of hate speech. Apparently, the concept of satirizing/mocking all those people who give their award speeches and thank God and Jesus now qualifies as hate speech. At least in the eyes of people who think Kathy Griffin shouldn't have said the things she did.

Personally, I think it was funny. I've often watched award shows and thought to myself why are all these people thanking God. It's not like the majority of them go to church or are particularly devout in their faith. It just seems like that's what you say when you win an award. Much like complimenting all the others who were nominated in your category and didn't win. Puh-lease. You know if you win the award you're thinking "I'm the best, that's right bitches" and if you lost you're thinking "damn, how did that no-talent heifer beat me."

I'm also angry that people would equate Kathy's words with hate speech, because they just don't get it. When you hear "homos are evil" and "you'll burn in hell" and "all fags should die" on a daily basis, you kind of get a good idea of what hate speech is -- and what it isn't. Kathy didn't hate anyone, she just made fun of a perceived hypocritical behavior. I think these idiots just need to get over themselves. Kathy's words would have been nothing more than a flash in the pan, but now that they've been highlighted it's sure that everyone is going to know about it.

September 10, 2007

She's Bringing Sexy Crack

AJ and friends went misadventuring this weekend. The 'Malator and her friend Ashley wanted to go out dancing. I rounded up the Major and we went and got our tipple on. At the club, we caught the tail end of a drag show. There was one performer that was working the place for all she was worth as Patti LaBelle. She even went down on the floor and imitated speaking in tongues. I guess this was a gospel song. The other performer we saw didn't check herself before she wrecked herself. I vaguely recall some home-made mix of songs she cobbled together (P!nk, Sweet Dreams (original & remix), etc.). She also looked like turkey crossbred with a potbellied pig who then decided to wear a spangled catsuit and a hat with a giant orange feather. It was not hot.

Then the dancing began. By the 3rd song (P!nk -- U + UR hand), Ashley christened herself with a new hot dance move that really shound only be performed by professionals. That's right ... Ashley became Assley. A little bump-n-grind to the floor resulted in a very torn pair of pants. Right up the crack, whole left cheek hanging out, because Assley was rocking the commando look that night. After a little panic, the Major came up with a solution. He lent Ass his boxer briefs, and the party resumed. Good old Assley didn't mind the the rip, so much as she minded her bare butt hanging out. So once she was decently covered it was game on!

I even got to use my powers for good. Some random guy grabbed Ashley from behind while she was dancing and she politely asked him not to touch her. He got really embarrassed and responded with a death threat. I took it to the next level and went and rounded up the manager on duty -- who I've known for many years. Skeezy dude got chucked from the club just like that.

All in all we had an awesome evening. And as much as I just made fun of Ashley, she's one of my all time favoritest people in the world. I don't get to see her that often, so this was a great treat. Ass and all.

September 5, 2007

Beware! The Killer Fans Are Here

I was trolling the internet the other day when I came across this little bit of joy. Who knew that we've all tried to commit suicide at one point or another? Who knew that the killer fans are among us, ready to do us all in so they can inherit the Earth? This reminds me of the Maya end-of-days mythology. All of man's tools will rise up against him and kill him. Discovery even had a special about it with cheesy re-enactments. Mom got taken out by the renegade waffle iron. Sister went up in a blaze of glory from the blender. Little brother was mauled by the Christmas tree, and Dad was killed by the paper shredder. No one expects the Korean Fan!

Crime Trifecta

My sister and family need all the well-wishes that they can get. On Saturday, their house (which they bought about 1.5 years ago) was burgled. The theives made off with their TVs, jewlery, some cash and many other valuables. To add insult to injury, the lowlives poured some type of acclerant all over their house and then set the whole place on fire. Then as one last parting gift, they found the spare keys to my sister's car, stole it, drove off, dumped the car somewhere in the greater Toledo area and then set the car on fire.

Burglary, Arson, Grand Theft Auto.

Unfortunately, the car is completely destroyed. Fortunately, the acclerant burnt itself out and only caused smoke and soot damage to their house. Unfortunately, almost everything in the house -- appliances, furniture, clothing, carpets, mattresses -- is unuseable. Fortunately, their cat escaped the house, and no one was hurt.

Also in the plus column, the insurance adjuster has already been out to their house. They've been given money to buy new clothes and their insurance has already approved a cleaning company. They'll be on site starting tomorrow. It also looks like they're going to be able to replace everything that was lost/stolen from their house.

I wish my sister and her family nothing but the best. These next 3 months or so are going to be very difficult for them as they get their lives and their house back in order. My parents are watching my 1 year-old niece while all this gets cleaned up. All my love and concern go out to them. And any other help I can humanly provide.

September 4, 2007

Three-day, Free-day

It was a very busy, if not relaxing, holiday weekend chez Condo. All I really wanted was to spend some time doing absolutely nothing. Somehow, we were on the go all weekend long. I’m conflicted because I enjoyed everything we did, but I do wish that I would have had a bit more time to just chill and do nothing.

Saturday we spend the first part of the day giving the place a much needed cleaning. It was one of those thorough cleanings where you move furniture that you normally don’t move. Six hours and seven bags of trash later we were finished. We then called up some friends – including a friend we usually don’t to too much with – and headed to Micro Center so Le Major could browse all the techie stuff. Then it was off to a wonderful Japanese place for a nice dinner. Conversation and food flowed and all were happy.

Sunday was a little lazier. We took Roxy over to the park for a cookout with our next-door neighbors. We had a good time socializing and Roxy met some new dogs. Five hours in the sun was enough to tire Roxy and I out. I did catch part of an interesting documentary about what would happen if a super comet smashed into Earth. In case you’re wondering, just about everyone and everything dies.
Monday we went out to the National Air and Space Museum with our friend the ‘Malator. We saw many planes. I’m not all that into aviation, so the place lost appeal after awhile. The Major and The ‘Matalor had a great time though. We got back to the house, ordered pizza and watched TV that will rot your brain. Oh, and I did about 4 loads of laundry.