Jul 29, 2011

the vent creatures

I need to take pictures of all the little details in my house.

I know there our people out there that appreciate the "character" of old houses.  There are definitely a few things around here with "character".  (Like our crystal doorknobs.)

But  mostly I need to take pictures so I can show you how creepy our air vents are.

They're really big. 

Once Husband told me that one time when his uncle was young he saw a scary movie about creepy creatures that came out of the air vents and it totally damaged him for YEARS.  And when I look at our air vents all I can think about are creatures coming out of them.

(I tried to figure out what the movie was so I could refer to it by title.  But google didn't give me any good information when I typed "the movie with creatures in the air vents" in the search box.)

A couple of nights ago I stayed up late working, and everyone else was asleep.  Which was fine.  Until my brain was no longer occupied by rational, work-related, thoughts.  And I had to get ready for bed.  At 2 AM.  With everyone else unconscious.

There's one of those big vents in the bathroom.

I had to ignore it the whole time I brushed my teeth.

And then I had to ignore it some more while I took out my contacts.

All the ignoring was really starting to wig me out, so while I used listerine and did my eye drops I had to pull out my surefire "something evil is trying to get me, so I need extra protection" and I hummed hymns.  (Humming hymns will protect you from evil.  NO DOUBT.  Even if you gargle listerine in the middle of "We Thank Thee Oh God for a Prophet".)

And finally I was all ready for bed. 

But I had to WALK PAST the air vent to get out of the bathroom.  (By the way, this is making my bathroom sound huge.  It's not huge.  It's like a tiny tiny little tiny thing.  Which made the vent ignoring REALLY HARD.)  Walking past the vent was really like 1.75 steps and then I'd be out of the bathroom and safe.

But just as I was going past the vent and out the door, SOMETHING GROWLED AT ME!!  And all I could think of was this:

But it turns out that it was just Husband snoring in the next room.

The next day I told him about all of this vent stuff.  And he said, "You are scared of EVERYTHING."

And I said, "Yes."

And he said, "You know, it's a wonder you can even function with everything that scares you."

And I said, "You're right.  I should just hide in bed all day with the covers pulled up to my chin."

And then he laughed.  Oh ho, funny.

And then he found me later in bed with the covers pulled up to my chin and he was like, "What are you doing?!"


Jul 22, 2011

probably the only time I'll write about pop culture

I don't pay much attention to pop-culture-y type things.  I'm usually too busy worrying about ghosts or m&m's or how long it takes for an avocado to go bad.  But sometimes I pay a teensy bit of attention to, you know, the rest of the world.

Especially the important things.

Like, why is Shiloh Jolie-Pitt always dressed like a boy?

Or, have the aliens come for Tom Cruise yet?

But what's really been troubling me lately is Prince William's bald spot.

I didn't watch the royal wedding, or really paid much attention to anything with the royal family.  But there are pictures ALL OVER the place about it, so finally I relented and looked at a bunch.

Remember when Prince William was a teenager and the entire population of teenage girls across the world thought he was divinely attractive?

Remember that?

Well, I just want to know one thing - WHAT HAPPENED?!

Now he's just a half-bald, big toothed, goob.

And, I ask you, if one of the most well-known royals of the world can't find a hair replacement treatment that works, what chance does the rest of the world have?

Moving on to another head related crisis, there was one prominent theme I noticed while looking at all of those royal wedding pictures and I am seriously concerned with European debutantes' choice in head wear. 

I'm actually a fan of the hat.  Even on the side of gaudy, I have no qualms with hats.  But there is a point -that has been deeply surpassed- in which a hat should NEVER EVER go.



And don't you think that this would be just a tad awkward:

Apparently there is more truth to the phrase "mad as a hatter" than I always thought.  

And this concludes the one time that I actually write about pop-culture.  Possibly I'll touch on the subject again once the aliens really do come and take Tom Cruise away.

Jul 19, 2011

I have issues.

I have a domestic problem.

I get really embarrassed talking about it.

I feel very alone in this, but in the hopes that there is a fabulous online support group that will take me under their wing and guide me into a happy existence where my problem doesn't seem like such a big deal, I will now share, WITH THE WORLD, my sad domestic failings:

I don't know how to......um.....properly....eeeeeee....use a can opener.

THERE, I said it.

I have gone through about 9 can openers in the last decade.  Because I murder them.  By using them WRONG.  I don't even know what I'm doing wrong.  But wrong it is.  And broken they become.  (The last one we had even fell apart.  Into about 5 pieces.  While my children watched.)

We'll have family visit sometimes, and they'll pull out a can and be like, "Woah, what's up with your can opener?"  And I have to hide my problem by lying and saying, "Stupid cheap can opener!  It's been doing that lately because, it's so, just, very, uh, CHEAP.  It's a piece of garbage!  I can't believe it's breaking, it makes me SO MAD! grrrrrrr."  And then, whoever the relative is, is like, "Ok, sheesh, calm down, it's just a can opener."  And then I know my charade has worked and no one will ever find out that it's because I don't how to properly use can openers.

Every time I open a can I try really hard to do it right.  REALLY.  I try to figure out what it is I'm doing wrong, and I try to fix it.  But, in the end, our can openers go quickly and painfully, and I'm left frustrated beating a can of peas against my forehead.

Just to clarify, I'm talking about a manual can opener.  The kind you twist.  I tried an electric can opener once.  I couldn't get the can to stay attached to the blade, and then I couldn't even get it to turn on.  It was a horrible failure that makes my manual can opener problems seem like toddler fodder.

Some good news is that the Great Value brand (found at none other than the fabulous store WALMART) is putting pull tabs on their cans, making a can opener obsolete.  Same with Campbell's soup.  It's like they really GET ME.  You know?  Perhaps I'm not so alone in my problems after all.  Maybe. Or they're all spying on me with high-tech satellite dishes and somewhere a group of people is watching me on a monitor and they're all laughing, "Look - that idiot can't even use a can opener properly!  HA HA HA. WHAT A DORK!!"  But there's a shy girl in the corner who takes pity on me and with her underdog power she convinces the Great Value and Campbell's soup CEO's to put pull tabs on their cans because she feels so very bad for me and my massive domestic incapabilities.  (It's probably that.)

But for now, when I don't have a Great Value or Campbells can handy, I continue to struggle with my problems, facing every day with new resolve that just MAYBE today is the day I overcome my issues with the little twisty contraption.

And now that you know all about my embarrassing domestic issues, please, someone come forward and tell me that they can't open cans properly either.  Anyone.  I don't even care if you fib about it.  Just hearing that I'm not alone in this will make the next time I confront a can of peas so much easier.

Jul 15, 2011

if I haven't traumatized my kids before now, I definitely accomplished that today

We have a smelly hall cupboard.  The day we moved in we had a cleaning lady come and de-gross-ify the house, and that was one place I told her to take care of.  She was here for hours, working up a sweat, and I swear she didn't leave the house any cleaner.

So today, I decided it was time to stop ignoring the stench and deal with the smelly cupboard.  Because it's actually quite huge and we still have boxes of stuff that need to find a home.  Except that it's so huge that you don't realize what's in the back of it until you literally stick your head (and upper body) all the way in and look.

Which I did.

And then I had to stick my head back in with cleaners and a metal spatula so I could scrape a pile of nasty gooey sludge out of the back corner.

And I almost vomited.

It was touch and go for awhile.

But it's clean now, and covered in some lovely cream colored sticky-shelf-paper.  And it smells better.  It's not completely un-smelly, but less smelly, and useable.

So then I enlisted my kids help in moving a box full of board games out of the basement storage so I could put them in the cupboard.  And just as we finished the board game retrieval, and the world was looking fluffy and rainbow colored, horror of all horrors struck.

Have I ever mentioned my extreme dislike of bugs and spiders?  Because I hate them.

Sometimes after I've found a bug in the house I can't kneel next to the bed to pray for like 2 weeks, because all I can think of are possible bugs that are possibly down there (Heavenly Father has gotten used to my kneeling ON the bed to pray - they are perfectly reverent prayers, I assure you, and completely bug free).

I've seen arachnaphobia too many times and even though I wouldn't say that I'm deathly afraid of spiders, I would say that I'm mostly deathly afraid of spiders.  So when I saw THE ENORMOUS SPIDER THAT LOOKED LIKE A BROWN RECLUSE sitting on my husband's upturned bass drum in our basement, I freaked out.

Major freaking out occurred.

At first I was completely paralyzed, because HELLO, ginormous poisonous spider!!!  And then I realized I was the only adult in the house and it was my duty to kill it or it would bite my children thusly murdering them in their sleep.  But the thought of getting my hand close enough to smash it with a shoe or a stick or a sledge hammer was just way too much for me to handle.  I mean really - HAVE YOU SEEN ARACHNAPHOBIA?!  (Although I might have attempted the sledge hammer - had there been one handy.  Note to self: buy sledge hammer.)

So I did the only thing I could think of, and I screamed for my 8 year old to bring me the Tilex.  (If it's one thing that I've learned in this house of grunge is that Tilex will kill pretty much anything.)

But Two Bits was taking too long getting the Tilex, minutes and minutes even, and the spider kept MOVING.  Like, walking a little, and stuff.  Did I say horror of horrors yet?  Because, yeah, the terror was mounting.  Then over flowing.  And then I found myself standing in my basement, staring at a spider, screaming, "TILEX, HURRY, AAAAAAAH!!"

It wasn't even like regular yelling screaming, like, "Yo, bring me the tilex", nope it was more like straight up horror movie screaming.


When I finally had the Tilex in hand, I sprayed the spider like my life depended on it (which it probably did) and IT WOULDN'T DIE.  So I sprayed until there was a puddle forming on the drum head, and once the spider slowed down a little, and it's back legs stopped working but it still wasn't dead I knew I'd have to smash it.  So then I was screaming, "SHOE!!  GET ME A SHOE!!! AAAAAAAAAAH!!"

And then I smashed it about 50 times and ran away.

And I called Husband and told him to come home from work RIGHT NOW and clean it up or his drum was a goner with all that Tilex and spider guts on it.  Which he did.  And I got multiple lectures on the proper way to kill a spider (whatever, I thought the Tilex was a great idea).

But now I hope my kids won't be murdered in their sleep by poinsonous spiders.

EXCEPT now I keep thinking about the other spiders wanting to enact revenge upon me and that thought really makes me want to run from the house while horror-movie-style screaming.

Jul 13, 2011

I didn't want to look at my walls anyway

Yesterday we opened the box that contained everything we hang on our walls.  In the past that would have been one of the first things I unpack; you know, making our new place feel like home, and all that, blah blah blah.  But with this move it just didn't seem important.

There are two reasons to my decorating apathy:  a) I'm still not really liking this house and b) we're tired of looking at the same decorations we've had for the past decade.

Honestly, our wall decor really isn't that bad.  Some of it isn't even that old.  And a few things are actually pretty cool.  But I'm just SO BORED with it.  You know what I mean?  But it's not like I can throw it all away and start over. (Did I ever mention that our rent here is like 150% higher than our last house?  Because it is.  So paying for actual walls is taking up any budget to get new wall decor.)

Thus brings me to rental complaint #72691.3 - we are not allowed to paint our walls.

I like renting in this economy.  Really, truly, I do.  But painting opens up all new options to walls, CHEAP options, and I'm missing out, dangit.

Take for example our bathroom.  I got here to discover that it was covered in black mildew.  (Yes, EEEEEW.)  So the landlord had it painted on monday.  And he could have authorized the use of wall stencils so that the bathroom looked like this:

photo found here

But nooooooo, you know what color he had it painted?  YELLOW.  In a bathroom.  You want me to tell you what a yellow bathroom makes me think about?  Do I have to say it?  PEE.  He had it painted URINE YELLOW.

I am, however, day-dreaming of the day when I'm allowed to slather whatever I want on a wall.  I think I would do this in my bedroom:

photo found here

And somewhere in my house, I would like to have a polka-dot wall.  Just for the sake of being able to have a polka-dot wall.

photo found here
Alas, for now, we're stuck looking at our same old decorations.  On our boring pee colored walls.


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Jul 8, 2011

so I moved

It's about time, but here I am in Utah.

In a house built in 1938.

Remember that rule I had about not living in an old house? Yeah, I never get what I want.

Besides possibly being haunted, old houses smell weird, and can be dirty/grungy. At least, our house seems to possess all three of those qualities.

And my kids love that they can communicate by yelling through the enormous vents.

But they're not loving the bug-infested basement, in which they all sleep, in a big room that isn't technically a bedroom, because the bedrooms are tiny.

And also, I am without a computer because old house + massively energy sucking electronics = pfffffft.

Yay for moving. Really. woo. hoo.