Saturday, May 31, 2003
 

Dangit.

There's that AT&T wireless commercial with the Ramones again. That just does not suit me.

Speaking of, I was listening to the Anthology Disc 1 as I was driving randomly around trying to find the leasing office for my new dwelling. It occurs to me that lines like

Now I guess I'll have to tell 'em
That I've got no cerebellum

from "Teenage Lobotomy" are what makes them so great.

And so undeserving of being on a stupid corporate commercial.

Hmmph.

Elvisette philosophized at 5:23 PM


 

From CNN article on capture of Eric Rudolph

"If convicted, he could face the death penalty. The decision is up to Attorney General John Ashcroft."

Up to Ashcroft. How reassuring. He'll probably award Rudolph a congressional medal of honor or something.

Not that I'm pro-death penalty (and Rudolph certainly merits all kinds of punishment, to say nothing of life imprisonment), but, as one character on SVU last night said of another, this guy is slightly to the right of Attlia the Hun. I think I might also compare him to Torquemada.

I wonder if defecting to Canada right now would be premature, or if I should wait for the actual verdict. Hmm. Decisions, decisions.

I feel bitter, oh so bitter . . .

Elvisette philosophized at 2:18 PM



Friday, May 30, 2003
 

So, some good, non-whining news: I'm moving! Yup. I'm heading 'em up and moving 'em out; I signed the final papers yesterday. I loooooove it: it's a two-story little townhouse, with much more square footage than my current digs. And (drumroll, please): tons of closet space! I danced for glee. Well, not in front of the leasing agent. It's very cute, a pretty little brick place. My unit is a bit back from the road, which is nice. The units are "two years three months" old, according to the agent, which is fantastic. All the kitchen appliances and bathroom fixtures are great, very newish. The kitchen is much bigger than my current one, and I eagerly await the increased counter space. Mine here are getting piled up. I'll have a little back patio, which is cute. Another big-ticket item is that this place has two bedrooms, one of which will function as an office. I love have compartmentalized spaces, so that'll be perfect for me. Also, it has stairs, which I get ridiculously excited about. Let's see, what else? More than one toilet, which is important in the event of a broken toilet (as I learned last year, when my toilet broke and didn't get fixed for nearly twenty-four hourse, forcing me to use the pool bathroom). This new place doesn't have a pool, but, considering I've never used this one, I'm not too concerned. I'll be much closer to the rec center and its pool, should I desire to use one. After all, the only swimming I've done in this apartment is in my own bathroom.

Let's see, what else? Did I mention all those closets? I'm thrilled about those. Nice hidden washer/dryer area, big windows for lots of sun. I'll be very glad to have a linen closet with reachable (yes, I know that's not a word) shelves. Currently, I have an awkwardly-shaped closet in my bedroom and one shelf over the washer/dryer, and that's it for storage. It's hard to get to the stuff over the washer-dryer, since the shelf is high, I'm short and require a stool, and you have to lean in over the appliances to get to the shelf's content.

During last night's insomia bout, I started making a list of stuff that I can start moving over there myself, like extra linens and winter clothes. I need professional help [can it, peanut gallery] to move the big stuff, of course, but there are things I can take care of myself.

I'm still in walking distance of campus, still within easy distance to downtown stuff. I'm next door to one friend and closer to JM, which will be fun. The complex is small enough so that everyone seems to know each other well, unlike my current haven of anonymity. The leasing agent, who's been doing this for years and has even had the same receptionist for ages, which is a much better track record than my current complex. He also refuses to rent to undergrads, a decision I heartily applaud. I know much more than I did when I moved here originally, so I knew what to look for and what to ask.

So. That's about the most exciting thing in my life right now. I'm still loving my new haircut. I love the unstructured look, which continues to be great for my walking-filled lifestyle. I'm still not sleeping at night and am giving in and seeing a doctor Monday.

In other exciting news, I'm almost done with my chenille throw. Actually, I oversized it, so it's somewhere between a throw and an afghan. The color is great and will look perfect in my bedroom. The primary colors in my bedroom are sage green, a dusty lavender, and a periwinkle blue. The throw's color is "seaspray," which picks up the periwinkle and the sage. I've had to order another skein of yarn (from eBay) to complete the edging, so I'll have to wait for that to arrive. I'm very pleased with it, and it's super-thick and warm. Three cheers for occupational therapy.

Elvisette philosophized at 8:49 PM



Saturday, May 24, 2003
 

I cut my hair! All gone. I was beginning to look like Cousin Itt, but I'd deliberately let it get too grown out so that it would be more versatile when I did cut it. I went to a real, non-SuperCuts salon and the whole deal. I've adjusted a little better to seeing myself in the mirror, and I really do like this hair. It's based on Mariska Hargitay's hair. Yes, I do watch too much television. I've never attempted to copy a celebrity (if network TV counts as "celebrity") haircut before, so I think that I'm entitled. This is the general idea (this is small, but also look here). It's wonderful because it's supposed to look choppy. Since I walk everywhere, my hair gets blown about madly. When I finished my walk back from the salon, my hair looked just fine. Whoo-hoo! My construction crew fan club liked the look. And my sundress. Thanks, guys.

I style the hair mainly with my fingers, which is wonderful for nontechnical types like myself. It turns under or flips out. My face is no longer buried under a ton of hair, which is possibly a good thing. Possibly not. This is fascinating stuff, at least in my dull little world.

I have no plans this weekend thus far, which is dull, dull, dull. I did a bunch of stuff and saw a bunch of people last week, but no one's doing anything exciting this weekend. Bleah. I think I need to get a Blockbuster card. I'm told that I must see Waiting for Guffman. A friend was teaching it with Godot, which sounds pretty cool. And I'll probably teach Beckett when I teach drama, so watching this film would be research, right? Right? Right.

Blogger is not being cooperative these days. Pages do not want to load properly. At least it's not just me. They're in the middle of some major changes, so the problems will hopefully pass soon.

After yesterday's music rant, I've been in a definite Ramones mood. You should all head off to K-Lite and download their cover of "Have You Ever Seen the Rain?" now.

On to productivity. Or slacking. Whichever comes first.

Elvisette philosophized at 10:17 PM



Friday, May 23, 2003
 

I would like to take a moment to complain. Please, contain your shock at the prospect. Even sweet, even-tempered little Southern belles like myself must have a hissy fit every now and then.

What gives with Celine Dion on those Chrysler commercials? Yeah, yeah, I know that she covered "I Drove All Night," but we all know that Cyndi Lauper's version is much better. Then again, I suppose that Chrysler and Celine Dion appeal to the same age demographic. But bleah. You can bet that there isn't an mp3 of Celine Dion's version on this computer.

Next up. During one of my insomniac late-night TV sprees, I heard "Blitzkrieg Bop" on an AT&T wireless commercial. What gives? The Ramones do not endorse AT&T wireless. I mean, WWJD [What Would Joey Do]?

I think that about covers it. I rest my case.

Elvisette philosophized at 7:59 PM



Thursday, May 22, 2003
 

I feel subliminal.

I have nothing of consequence to say. Shocking, huh?

Go play with this. I think it may be even more addictive than this.

Actual content to be added later. No doubt much later.

Elvisette philosophized at 9:49 PM



Friday, May 16, 2003
 

So, I'm up for Fun with Insomnia, round 38579375. I'm currently watching Married with Children, and I just saw a commercial for some singles line (these are popular late-night TV commercials), which assured me that if I called I'd talk to people "just like me." So, that would be other bitter, cranky, insomniac losers who watch sitcom reruns while doing needlework? Should make for some fascinating conversations.

I have accomplished shockingly little today, even for me. This should probably trouble me more than it does, but burnout hath arrived. I did leave a message on one apartment building's machine and attempt to look up for a number for another possibility. I thought of another qualificiation for my next habitation, if such a thing exists: closet space. Storage space. Lots and lots and lots of it. I currently have one, average-size clothes closet and the shelf above the washer/dryer (occupied by laundry stuff and spare sheets). I've got more junque than that, heaven knows.

That would about cover my exciting day. I'm finishing up the current baby blanket and am hoping that my Q hook (eBay) arrives shortly so that I can begin my next project.

Yup. Yup. Yup. I'm a loser, so sue me. At least I'm getting out of the apartment tomorrow, to meet someone for lunch.

Elvisette philosophized at 12:57 AM



Wednesday, May 14, 2003
 

Slammers! Long time no, uh, slam! Do not mess with the cranky insomniac. I've been in quite the foul little mood today. Or for the past week.

So, here's what's going on in SlamLand:

The ceiling is repaired, sort of. To a degree. In a way. Maintenance, after their two minute cameo appearance the day after the flood, never returned. Eventually, carpet, paint, and roof guys began to drift in and out, doing mystical repair things, all of which they refused to explain to the poor little helpless female, otherwise known as ME. One of them even had the gall to address me as "Little Missy." You'd think that the steam billowing out of my ears would have tipped him off that thou shalt NOT belittle the feminist, but no such luck. After that, I started playing Rammstein (thank you, K-Lite) every time I heard a knock at the door, but to no avail; they still didn't take me seriously. I need to get some facial piercings. Or grow a few inches.

I've been living in disaster central. Apparently, it was my responsibility to do all of the post-flood cleanup, but I couldn't even get to that because of all of the machinery that kept being deposited here. I ended up with an industrial dehumidifier in addition to the previously-mentioned fan. It sounded like a factory floor in here.

One of the many high points of all of this was when "Rusty" and a buddy came by to re-popcorn spray my bathroom ceiling. They got the spray on my over-toilet unit, on the floor, on the mirror, on the toilet, in the shower basin and on the walls, and all over my shower toiletries. Heck, I think that I probably could have done somewhat better than that. Except, oh, wait; I'm just a delicate helpless female. Yeah. Right. I felt like putting on a hoop skirt and offering the Big Strong Men mint juleps to cool them down. Instead, I sat on the futon and stewed.

They probably wouldn't have flinched. My apartment was already a mess, as it always is during seminar paper season. Plus, I'd had to throw stuff around madly when the flooding started, to prevent further damage. Also, because of the insomnia streak, I've quit sleeping on my bed and am just using it for storage. I sleep on my painfully pathetic futon, since I usually watch TV until the wee wee hours of the morning (Roseanne, anyone?).

Enough griping, though I could go on with this subject forever. At least I've gotten out of the apartment since classes ended: a dinner at someone's house, a Kentucky Derby party (oooh, bourbon balls, I love thee), dinner with a fellow departmental, that sort of thing. Why do all social events involve food? Must be some primal thing.

But I ramble. I'm going to start looking for another place, I think, since my lease here is coming up. I'd like something with a different floorplan, something more compartmentalized. This feels very open. I'd also like fewer undergrads; they're a bit loud for my tastes. My major requirement is that I remain within walking distance of the university, since that's good for my physical and mental health. Also, the drivers here are insane and scare me to death. It's bad enough to have to cross the street.

I still haven't turned in one of my seminar papers, owing to everything and its cousin happening this past term (much of it in the past few weeks). The professor doesn't care, anyway, so that's not a problem. I just want to get this thing done. I love the topic and the novels I'm working with, plus this is definitely a possibility for a future dissertation chapter. I've managed to write three seminar papers this term that will probably end up in the dissertation in some way or another, which makes me dance for nerdy joy.

That seems like such a condensed version of all that's been going on. The prospect of spelling it all out just exhausts me, though, and a lot of it would be whining, anyway (me? whine? never!), and I'll skip the more depressing incidents for the time being.

Ah, well. Law and Order draws nigh. In the meantime, I should probably return to Deracination. The excitement will kill me yet. Soon, hopefully.

Elvisette philosophized at 8:18 PM



Monday, May 05, 2003
 

Cover your ears.

ARRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRGH!

That's better.

Now, I'll begin:

Around 1 AM last night, I heard a weird noise. This noise proved to be water pouring in from the ceilings in the bathroom and hallway. I deposited every trash can in my possession, along with my (large) mop bucket, under the leaks, but all of these containers overflowed quickly. I also salvaged all the stuff I could, since a lot of my things were getting soaked. I called the apartment answering service, waited ten minutes (of very bad elevator music), and finally got an answer. I was promised that maintenance would be there shortly. In the meantime, water was coming from a vent and a light fixture as if a bath faucet were running, the bathroom ceiling was beginning to sag, carpet was getting soaked, and the bathroom was flooding. Forty minutes later, no maintenance. I called back and was again promised assistance. The bedroom ceiling begins to get wet. Twenty minutes later, maintenance calls and tells me he doesn't think he can do anything that night. Besides the principle of the thing, I had soaked ceilings and carpets, plus the second great flood in my bathroom (Noah, paging Mr. Noah). He promised me that he'd be here first thing. Eventually, the water stops.

This morning, no maintenance. I go to the management office and raise Cain. The bathroom ceiling is sagging, I have containers of dirty water everywhere, a light fixture is full of water (what the heck am I supposed to do with that?), the carpets are soaked, water has drained out of the bathroom (presumably into the apartment below me), the bedroom ceiling is sporting wet spots ranging from the size of a silver dollar to the size of a dinner plate, water has seeped into the bedroom wall, the bathroom floor is filthy, and things stink to high heaven. I am promised that maintenance will be there in 15 minutes, max.

30 minutes later, two maintenance guys drop in, spend two minutes checking things out, and disappear. They are not seen or heard from again.

Two hours pass. I call the apartment office and again raise Cain. I am told that a carpet cleaning crew and a painting crew (what for? the ceiling doesn't need PAINT; it needs REPAIR) will be there shortly.

Several hours later, an extremely nice carpet cleaning dude from an independent firm arrives. He does his best to suction the carpets, but his machine isn't strong enough to cope with the mess. He leaves and returns with an industrial-strength fan, which is currently aimed under my hall carpet in an attempt to dry it. That sucker is LOUD. In the meantime, the dampness has spread into much of the bedroom and into the den as far as the coffee table (I've had to peel up my area rug).

The painters, needless to say, never show. Not that I'm sure what they were going to do anyway. Perhaps slap a fresh coat of paint over the sagging wall in the bedroom?

This place smells vile, and the bathroom in particular is filthy (the water was a lovely rich brown). Apparently, it's my responsibility to clean it. I'm normally more than willing to do for myself, but I think this is a little excessive. And I'm sorry, but this carpet is never going to smell the same again, no matter how dry it gets. And the bathroom ceiling is not going to repair itself. The water damaged the unit I have over the toilet, and I would think that that's the apartment's responsibility. All maintenance did in lieu of assisting me was to empty ONE of the many containers of water I had sitting around (I'd left them out to demonstrate the magnitude of the problem, that I was not being a hysterical little woman).

No one has told me what happened. No one has been in contact with me. No one has advised me of what to do. I'm so mad I can't see straight.

So I just thought I'd share.

Elvisette philosophized at 5:57 PM



Thursday, May 01, 2003
 

Two down, one to go. But there's a lot of that one to go, both in terms of research and writing. I've got an extension, but still. I want to avoid an incomplete. So many people have already finished up, and I saw their relief today when I met up with some of them for a meeting. And I'm 2/3 done. 1/3 more to do is a lot. There's a party tomorrow night and a huge one Friday, and I just hate having this stuff hanging over my head. It's my own fault, I suppose. But, honestly, the insomnia isn't helping. I have zero attention span and zero powers of concentration.

I do, however, have an amusing insomnia story. A couple of nights ago (I lose track, honestly) I realized, in some sort of sleepy stupor, that it had been an incredibly long time since I'd heard "Walk the Dinosaur" (gee, wonder why). So I turned to Kazaa Lite, which should not be on my computer, and located it. This activity quickly blew out of all proportion, and I ended up downloading an insane number (I haven't counted, because I don't want to know) of 80s classics.

It's an odd experience. I didn't listen to popular radio when I was a kid, so everything I heard, I heard at school or from friends (or when we had babysitters who watched MTV, which I loved). It's like recovering a lot of things from the edge of my mind; in most cases, I didn't know all the words of the song to begin with, couldn't have told you the artist.

I am discovering, though, that there are some tunes that still sound mighty fine indeed. These include "Hold Me Now" and "I Drove All Night" in particular. My neighbors have probably heard enough of those now. I ended up with a lot of Thompson Twins, lots of Cyndi Lauper, and a somewhat embarassing amount of Debbie Gibson. Among many, many, many other things.

I mainly use Kazaa when I get in moods to hear certain things; hence, I have a seriously weird collection of stuff (though I'm sure that Batty could put me to shame on that point). Today, tracks from the following artists have been uploaded from my computer:

The Geto Boyz
Enya
My Main Man Dwight
Iron Maiden

Things are a bit random round the ol' corral.

It's storming outside. It's quite lovely. My lights just flickered, though, which could be A Bad Thing.

Elvisette philosophized at 3:16 PM


 

I'm out of Diet Cherry Coke.

And Diet Mountain Dew.

And Diet Dr. Pepper.

I'm about to crack open my last Diet Coke.

Does anyone else hear Dies Irae?

More after I get this paper turned in. Watch this space.

Elvisette philosophized at 10:55 AM