the price of staying alive.

I've been very budget lately, so I have discovered the cheapest meals out there without losing my pride. I won't buy store brand ANYTHING, so don't even bother to tell me I'll save another 10 cents by getting Stop & Shop peanut butter. I like skippy. dang it.

PB&J - 44cents
Fluffernutter - 52cents
cup-o-noodles - 23cents
ramen noodles - 12cents
grilled cheese - 78cents (i like 3 slices of cheese, so sue me)


Do you know any supercheap yet very filling meals? please feel free to share. Laura loves food.

Maybe I'll catch fire.

Haven't updated in a few days, so let's recap the past weekend.

Thursday:
I went to work, came home and took a nap. Woke up, took a shower and took the T to the Arlington stop. This might seem like no big deal to you, but I have NEVER taken the T by myself except for going home from school, which is 3 stops away. and free. Never have I had to pay money to get onto a train all by myself, locate a seat, and navigate my way to a destination I've never been to. Needless to say, I had a hot panic attack while on the train, riding backwards. Having to run to catch the train and having dumbass Kris calling every 5 minutes didn't help matters much. I get off at the stop I was assigned to, try to call Andy but my phone gets no service so I start freaking out and walking 50 feet in one direction, turning around and going back to my first location. Eventually I saw Andy (sort of, since I didn't have glasses on) and we headed to a bar called the Rattlesnake. After getting in a battle of wits with the bartender and losing (she didn't appreciate me asking for a Bud Light, since they "don't serve ANY Budweiser products."), I ordered a High Life for an astronomical $4 and socialized with grad school students. Even though most of them were younger than me, I didn't feel like I was their peer at all, it was awkward, but I had Andy there to keep everything copasetic. We kept drinking until it started to rain (we were on a patio/porch area, so the rain was very noticable), at which point I was informed that we were going to have to walk home because the trains had stopped running for the night. Walk. In the rain. 3+ miles. I have never been more glad to be wearing sneakers and having a friend for a neighbor. I got to see the reflective pool at the Christian Science Center for the first time, and even with the wind and rain, it was pretty spectacular.



Made it home by 3am, worked Friday, slept through Friday night. Then came...

Saturday:
I woke up with noon with no real intention of going anywhere before 8am, when I had two different invitations in two different directions. I checked my email, and to my pleasant surprise, James (home from Japan) was heading to the Fearless Vampire Killers show in Revere at 2pm! I hustled my ass into the shower, picked out a specatcular wardrobe (aka jeans and a tanktop) and rushed up to Revere. Upon arrival, I was informed that the bar was closed, so I sent good ol' Garvey to the liquor store. He did not disappoint, returning with a six-pack of High Life tall boys. Best $6 of the day. Eventually the bar opened up, and I blew $50 before I realized that I hadn't saved and money for gas the next week. Stoli Raz and grenadine proceeded to kick my ass as I heckled bands and wandered around. While outside, I heard the Clockwork Orange intro, threw my purse at the bartender and proceeded to smash everything in way. I took off my flip flops, punched people in the head, and somehow made it back to my car in one piece. After getting home and SWEARING to myself that I was headed to Pete's for his party or to Providence for Suicide Saturday, I passed out and came to at 11:30. Wandered around in jammies, talked to Jackie and Michael, and Kris called me to ask for something. Not sure what, but I got angry and yelled at him for calling me a bitch. Who knows where that conversation went or how it was ended. I promised Jackie and Michael that I would take them with me to my parents' house the next day for Mary's birthday party, but that they needed to wake me up at 9am. Which brings us to...

Sunday:
9am came and went, and I didn't wake up to Jackie's calls or her knocking on the door. Around noon, I woke up and wandered around, decided my hand was officially broken, and called my parents and lied my ass off. Told them I had been to the hospital and it hurt too much to go anywhere, sorry to miss the party. And I went back inside and sat on my butt all day. Watched Jersey Girl and Someone Like You. Both made me sob. I ignored my phone and tried to not talk to the neighbors. Doug wanted to hang out, I wanted to stay inside and weep. Plus my hand was still killing me, and my feet were starting to ache as well. Around 8pm or so, Peter decided to hang out, so I showered and cleaned up a bit for him. When he showed up, my heart just ached, it made me realize how long it's been since I sw him. But of course I was an emotional omlette at that point from bawling at chick flicks (very unlike me, by the way). So I made him sit with me and watch the Emmys as we discussed fashion choices, good television shows and tattoos. I do love that boy, he knows how to make me feel normal when my world seems turned upside down. Of course, I can tell he's about to jump into his seasonal slump so I might as well frame a photo of him and say "see you in April".

I think that sums it up. My life isn't as exciting as I remember it to be.

time flies...

I was just looking through my bme page, looking for photos of the fatty when he was a kitten. I found an entry from July 2002 about going to see the Cro-Mag reunion tour. I can't believe its been four years since that. Look at where I am now...same job, same everything, just flying solo now instead.

that is all.

TV has power over me.

Last night I was watching "Wife Swap" on ABC, mainly because all my favorite shows were repeats (How I Met Your Mother, Two and a Half Men, New Adventures of Old Christine). Watching people living in filth/immaculate houses motivated me to clean. Up until that point, I had been eating frosting from the can, contemplating baking a cake but then realizing I wouldn't have enough frosting. I do have 4 or 5 cans, but this one will be for snacking, I suppose. So on to the land of cleaning.. First, I did all the dishes, and scrubbed the stove. THen I moved on to the bathroom, where I:
-scrubbed the floor - first with a swiffer, then on my hands and knees with clorox bleach wipes, then with clorox spray and a sponge.
-scrubbed the toilet, all over, inside and out.
-cleaned the mirror, sink, walls and sides of the shower stall with clorox wipes/windex
-scrubbed the tub with clorox and scrubbing bubbles, then a sponge and water (that took 45 minutes easy).
-boiled my toothbrush and microwaved my sponges.

it may seem a little much, but cleaning is very satisfying. I like to be able to sit back and look at my space and know its MINE and it's clean.

didn't I just see a commercial for that...?

Hollywoodland vs. Black Dahlia. I saw these commercials tonight, and I can't figure out which is which until nearly the end. Doesn't anyone remember what happens when the same movie is released at the same time? Those Katie Holmes vs. Mandy Moore (maybe?) "I'm the president's daughter" movies...does anyone remember EITHER of those movies? And there was a point where everything that came out needed to be romantic and shakespeare-an. Bleh. I'm glad I missed all of them too.


On other notes. Remember when all we needed in life was $3 to get a cookie from the mall, and to get one of our parents to drive us there and a friend's parents to pick us up? And maybe another $2 to spend at the candy store. Nothing really vital to focus on, bills were some weird scary thing that parents kept filed away in their important area...the area you didn't even WANT to look around in, it didn't catch your interest at all. Sure, we could wear the same shirt to school and to sleep in and to play in the woods and everything else. Mine was my Columbia hoodie, and the photos exists somewhere to prove it.

Mondays and Wednesdays were my night to do the dishes. Sometimes I would make tacos, but more often than not I would burn the shells. Whoops! Napping on the couch was cute, not lazy. I was always a fan of lounging on the floor next to the heater.

I don't wish I was 5 or 15. 20 was fun, but 9 and 10 were so ideal. TV and a strict bedtime. Where's MY wayback machine?

A recap of my Wednesday.

Last night, I got home around 6:15pm, as per the usual. I grabbed my mail, came inside and greeted Floof, gave her some dinner, and threw on my jammy pants. Within 15 minutes, Michael (next door neighbor, courier, decent guy) knocked on my door, as he typically does. Michael is only 20 and relies on me for a steady supply of alcohol. He explained to me that Jackie, his girlfriend, had the keys and he was locked out until 8pm when she got home. They only own one set of keys, so this happens to one of them daily. I sat back down and watched some telly, as he ran up to Doug's apartment (Doug lives above me and is alright at times, Lissa doesn't believe that he exists). Michael asked Doug to get him a 40, and paid for it in nickels and dimes. Meanwhile, I was sitting inside, looking on craigslist for a nice couch. (and I found one, I think!)

Michael and Doug came back an hour or so later, and Michael poured himself a shot of tequila and a shot of Jameson. At that point, Doug started up the grill so I headed up there. Michael came up with a GLASS full of Jameson. Jackie came home, I told her to come sit with us. Michael went downstairs, came back with a BUTCHER KNIFE and started THROWING IT. I distracted him by sending him to get cigarettes, as I hid the knife in Doug's sink under some dishes. He came back with smokes and ANOTHER glass of Jameson, and said to me "thanks for the iced tea" to which I responded "I don't have iced tea."

He stormed off and I realized it was 8pm, time for Rock Star Supernova!!! So I went down and told Doug to come back with burgers so we could watch TV together. Jackie sat with us, but left to go to her apt and came back 30 or so minutes later, crying, saying he locked the door, but she had the keys so she opened it, he had pushed ALL THE FURNITURE against the door so she couldn't get in. So we sat in my apt. and she went back in 45 minutes or so. Jackie then came back sobbing, saying he stole the wheel off the bike she JUST bought the day before. He totally trashed the apt too...broke EVERYTHING, threw makeup all over the walls, ripped all their clothes, broke her digicam. But he didn't take his phone or his bag, just left with a bike wheel.

So she was sobbing, and I started cleaning. She called Michael's mom and told her, we finished cleaning and drank a beer on the porch, then Michael's mom called. Apparently he went over there, demanded her car so he could go to Stop & Shop (he told me earlier he wanted to rob them but needed a getaway car), she said no. He asked for money and she said no. He said he was going to go sleep in the train station, but passed out on the porch, woke up and stormed off. Then he came back home without the bike wheel. He was crying and I started screaming at him to go back to his mom's. Finally, I decided to go to bed after Jackie refused to sleep at my place.

At this point, I don't want him living there at ALL. They both move out on the 31st, so that's 2 more weeks. But I think he needs to go sleep it off at mamma's from now on.

Welcome to Boston.

some photos...

Me and Katie - my bra did not want to stay hidden that night.
And clearly I did not want to stay sober...



Always looking for someone to give the stink-eye to.
That's Katie and Liz (I think?)



Floof has this weird thing about biting her toenails. chomp chomp.



At least you can tell she's mama's girl.

rage, it's all the rage.

I have a billboard on the roof of my building. After a month of staring at the verizon guy asking me if I could hear him now, I have finally upgraded. Now featured is a VW beetle, with a caption reading "rage, it's all the rage." and I think I love it. I can't figure out why, but I throw those words back and forth in my head often when I drive home and stare at it.

Floof left me a hairball next to my side in bed today. I think she's trying to tell me that her hairball-reducing kibbles aren't getting the job done. Or she just loves me THAT much.

Ain't no cure for the summertime blues.

I am ridiculously addicted to infomercials, but I'm very particular about which ones to watch. For example, anything telling me how many pant sizes I can drop in 3 weeks - swiftly aborted. But if I see a blast from the past celebrity telling me how much he enjoys his 10-disc collection of country hits, or that jolly chubby grandma cooking up magical creations using cherry coke, snickers bars or biscuits...I am enthralled. I never actually buy any of the items, minus the bun-and-thigh-max, which I broke and threw away. Maybe that's why I hate the exercise commercials? But I have busied myself over the past 2 workdays (read: wasted time) by downloading over 150 doo wop hits, putting them in order as they would appear on this 10-disc set.

Is that normal? Am I being clever and thrifty? Do I just hate my job THAT much?

Either way, I like to listen to Little GTO while I plot my commute home. After yesterday's traffic jam, I need a back-up plan. And a pack of smokes.

beating death...sort of.

Leaving work today, I was reminded that a bunch of co-workers were heading out to get margaritas a few towns over. Seeing as I have $4.86 until the 15th, I told the group that my budget was more of a Miller High Life 40oz. quality. Hopped in my car and started heaading down the 14-mile strip to Mission Hill, and all of a sudden...nothing. No movement, no inching, nothing. Just me, the radio that was NOT informing me of the impending doom, and a full bladder. After 25 minutes and 1/2 mile, I announced to myself "SOMEONE HAD BETTER BE DEAD UP THERE." But as i approached the scene of the delay, I only caught a glimpse of the tow truck as it pulled away with a fuschia Dodge Neon. No blood, guts or gore. Not even the ambulance. I was jipped.

And now that I'm home, I have found that I MISSED the episode of Seinfeld where Susan dies. I went from Elaine wanting to be an usher to the funeral. No cheap envelopes, no poison. Nothing. What is the world trying to shield me from? I think I can handle it. I hope? Maybe there will be something uplifting on the Simpsons, followed by some non-emotional episode of Seventh Heaven. If one has been written yet.

Dinner sounded lovely at 5:30, now it's after 7 and all I want is salsa, chips and beer. I need to motivate myself into something frozen, salty and savory. Or ramen. Pasta? Food is such a lackluster need when its 90 degrees out. Maybe a pot of boiling water will point me in the right direction.

I don't know why, but finding out about Chris getting approved for his co-op today really hasn't hit yet. I'm assuming that having the money finally straightened out, my strange brain has closed the book. But I know just last night I was moping about, wondering if he misses me ever, since I am, quite clearly, irresistable. More on that some other time...

Floof coughed up a hairball on my bare feet last night. She's so considerate that way.

she gave me a pen.

Tonight, Floof and I are watching Say anything to put us to sleep. I can't figure out why, there aren't many pleasant aspects of the movie no matter how hard I dissect it. Lloyd has overwhelming confidence to make up for his lack of positive adults in his life...no parents present, his sister resents him being home, his guidance counselor asks him to sign up for college...at a kegger. No matter how cheery, upbeat and optimistic Lloyd is, I just know that within 45 minutes, he will have his heart ripped out and turn to the jokes of his graduating class for the answers.

Floof seems to enjoy the movie, or maybe just that I've relocated into the bedroom, so she can lay on me and get full air-conditioned blasts as she dreams of a day without 90 degree weather. I might wake her up to change to something with a better message for our youth. Muppet Treasure Island, for example. I even got my mom to cave and watch that with me on the plane once, so that says a lot about a film.

a reason to start something new...

"It's amazing what a blog can make your life seem like. There's so much stuff people do in a year that they totally forget, but I think would be proud to remember. You have one? "

An old acquaintance of mine tossed this thought at me today, and it made me realize all of my weblogs were either no longer accessible (changing a password is always a great idea at the time, isn't it?) or totally compiled of bitter angry entries, left up to remind me to stay defensive and jaded against the rest of the world. So why not start a nice fresh pretty blog that anyone can find (if they know how). I will make a darned good attempt to post daily, or close to it, and sadly I expect the basis of it to be which movies I am watching to go to sleep, and what I wish I was eating for dinner.