It's a Mystery

Someone left me a present on my desk while I was at lunch. It's a great present, a Butterfinger Creme Egg. There's a handmade stand holding it upright that says "An egg filled with heaven". No name. No clue as to who it's from, except a vague and perhaps incidental reference to a conversation that I had yesterday about how Butterfinger beats the pants off of any other candy bar. As exciting as it is to have a candy fairy, I'm really curios who is responsible. I thought I knew who it was, but that person allegedly didn't do it.

Take Another Piece of My Heart

There is this commercial for Quizno's that makes me cringe every time I see or even hear it. The point of the commercial is that Quizno's has some sandwich that Subway doesn't. Or something. The commercial features "Real People" discussing how much better Quizno's is than Subway. Anyway, the thing that gets me is right at the end. There are two women, each holding a sandwich that they are presumably munching on. Only one of them speaks, and what she says makes my soul hurt. "It's got a lot of meat. And that's what a real woman needs!" And then. AND THEN! She giggles like a thirteen year old in science class who just heard the word "penis" come out of the teacher's mouth. This woman asserted herself as "a powerful woman who knows what she wants, and apparently wants a big penis" and then immediately subverted that assertion into "giggling silly woman who knows that the idea of a powerful woman is to be laughed at, as is a woman who asserts herself sexually and seeks pleasure for herself" In less than five seconds this mind-boggling juxtaposition occurs! Every time I am exposed to it, a piece of me dies inside.

Full Disclosure

I finally got my deposit from Asshat, so the time has come for my Full Disclosure. So, those of you who do not wish to be identified, too bad, because man am I sick of making up nicknames for all of you. And now that even the pretense of concern that James the Asshat (I think I'll still call him that) would somehow find this blog and withhold my money is gone, I can just be myself and call y'all by name. So, here goes.

My name is Sarah Epperson. I don't like my last name, partly due to bad associations with my father, but mostly because Sarah was the most common girl's name in the English-speaking world when I was younger, and since there were always at least four other Sara(h)s wherever I was (and once a Cera), I was perpetually identified by my last name. I don't know why this cause a dislike, but it did.

Best Friend is Pamala. She is pretty much awesome, even if she never updates her own blog. There will likely be a great deal of stories involving her; since she sucks at telling stories, I have to do it for her or no one ever knows what happened.

Boyfriend is Niall. Pronounced like Neil. It's the Irish spelling, get over it. I cannot express how much it pained me to refer to Niall as "Boyfriend", nor can I imagine how often you cringed when you read it. It just seems to me to be such a one dimensional labeling of the most important man in my life. I hated calling him that and I am relieved that I never will again.

Roommate is Dalyne. Pronounced like Day-lynn. We live in the same apartment. So far, that is all.

Other Guy, AKA Pretty Decent Guy, AKA Asshat in Training is Patrick. I used to live with him. All in all, he is a pretty decent guy, even if he had a tendency to play his electric guitar at eleven o'clock at night.

Turbo is Billy. I met Billy my Junior year at UCSB, and he ended up being in almost all of my classes. He's usually a ton of fun (yay, Drunk Jenga!) and is one of the few people who came to appreciate some of my cracked-out movies as much as I do. Especially The Point ("Do you get my meaning Oblio?"). In spite of his often scruffy appearance, Billy has some of the greatest hair that I've ever seen on another human being. And of course, he completely takes it for granted. I have no idea why I call him Turbo. I used that name for a long time when someone was getting excited, "Whoa there, Turbo!", but since Billy is so calm and laid-back all the time, I don't know how it stuck to him in particular, but it did.

Old Roommate from College is Orly. Goodness, what can I say about Orly? I love this girl with all my heart. She is the perfect mixture of crazy intelligent and incredibly dirty-minded. Not to mention that she's Persian, and therefore physically perfect. I swear, if I were gay...Who am I kidding? I would totally hit that. I had the best time living with her. I miss her and her boobs and they all need to come and visit more often.

Number Four still needs to wait until later for explanation.

Ex-Boyfriend's name is Chris. See this post for more on him.

Friend I Never See But Whom I Dearly Love is Sierra. She's my favorite dirty-punk girl. Good times and sarcasm aplenty whenever we hang out. She was the first person to learn that Niall and I had drunkenly gone there. A few days later I was cussing a lot and she told me to shut my dirty whorish mouth. And I knew we'd be friends forever.

That's everyone.

The Saints are Coming...

Anyone who wants to watch The Boondock Saints at my place this weekend, give me a call!

Happy Day Mama

Fresh from a two-day dose of Mama, I am significantly less stress-addled. Unfortunately for you, that means that I am far less entertaining than normal, since I don't really have anything to complain about right now. But there is a ray of hope in this time of darkness and confusion: I have to take my car to the mechanic soon. I think that the problem is with my transmission, but Mama thinks that faulty fuel injection is the culprit. So, fingers crossed for fuel injection problems, because that's about $300 better than transmission problems.

Now as soon as Asshat gets my deposit back to me...

Shiny

In the course of my job, I recently had to issue a test on a procedure to a ton of people. Not that that's very exciting. But what is exciting is that one of the people who had to correct their test with me (God, I just realized that I kind of became a teacher, in spite of my best efforts) ended up chatting with me for nearly half an hour. It turns out that she and I are personality twins. We somehow got to talking about tv shows and movies and we were freaking each other out with our identical tastes in those areas. So we both determined that we need to hang out and commiserate over our beloved Firefly and Eddie Izzard.
My internets at home are still not up and running (Fuck you, Cox Cable. Seriously. Fuck you.), so I'm confined to internet at work. Boo.

Hold Onto Your Hat!

Mama is coming today to stay with me for a few days! Hooray! And Dutchess, my dog, is with her!

In other news, I just heard my boss say "I may be an idiot." Incredibly satisfying.

In other, other news, this is possibly the greatest and simultaneously most disturbing thing I've seen in quite some time.

We Drink and Drink and Drink and Drink and Drink and FIGHT!

I just bought a movie on Amazon. Somehow, I never (until now) actually owned the movie that could very well be called My Favorite. I love a lot of movies, and for a lot of different reasons. I have a favorite movie in just about every genre. Except film noir. I hate film noir. The Princess Bride (geeky classic), Love Actually (romantic comedy), Pride and Prejudice (Jane Austen), Donnie Darko (dark comedy)...There are many many more, some good, some just downright embarassing. But this movie trumps them all. Hell, it's The Boondock Saints. If you've seen it, you know. If you haven't seen it, come over tomorrow and we will watch it. Seriously.

Colorblind

Red: Red tastes like a great glass of wine; tart and sweet and strong and a little spicy, with many different flavors blending together to create something powerful and complex. Red smells like an antique shop, with centuries of scents culminating in a heady mixture that creates a sense of time in the mind. Red feels like velvet; rich and smooth and a little exotic. Red sounds like the murmur of a crowd or the crackle of fire; an intricate sound with many layers.

Orange: Orange tastes very sweet and sugary, but with a little bite to it. Orange smells like orange tree blossoms and jasmine; sweet and summery. Orange feels like the sun caressing your skin on a hot summer day. Orange sounds like the buzz of a bumble bee.

Yellow: Yellow tastes sour, like a lime. Yellow smells like over-ripe fruit or flowers that are beginning to rot. Yellow feels like sand in your shoes, chaffing your feet. Yellow sounds like sarcasm or even anger in the voice of a loved one.

Green: Green tastes minty and fresh and cold, like drinking very cold water right after brushing your teeth. Green smells like fresh pine needles on a cool spring day, or like well-water that was just pumped out of the ground. Green feels wet and cold and slick, like jumping into a pool on a hot summer day, or like a downpour of rain. Green sounds like children laughing at the playground or the voice of someone you love but haven't spoken to in a while.

Blue: Blue tastes familiar and warm, like home-baked pie or cookies or fresh bread made from scratch. Blue sometimes smells like Grandma's kitchen and other times blue smells like freshly cleaned laundry. Blue feels like a big, fluffy comforter, soft and warm and safe. Blue sounds like a cat purring, or the waves crashing at the beach heard from far away.

Purple: Purple tastes like candy, sweet and artificial. Purple smells like roses when they are freshly blooming, the kind of smell that fills up a room. Purple feels like a being wrapped up in a big fuzzy towel after taking a long bubble bath. Purple sounds like Beethoven, powerful and strong.

Crash Into Me

It's official, Best Friend is cursed. I walked over to her parking lot after work (we actually managed to carpool yesterday) and as I came around the corner, a big SUV backed up into her parked car. Sounds like a not-uncommon event? Here's the thing. Best Friend has only has her driver's license for a year (don't get me started, she wouldn't even have it at all if I hadn't forced her to drive anywhere she wanted to go when we lived together). Previous to getting her license, she rode her bike down to her office. One day, she literally got hit by a truck while crossing the street. No major damage, but it was quite scary. A few months later, she had her license. One day, she was sitting in completely stopped traffic. Some crazy bitch behind her didn't understand that basic concept that, even though the light turned green, you cannot actually hit the gas if there are cars stopped in front of you. That psycho actually ended up driving on the sidewalk, smashing into the back of Best Friend's car and then adding insult to injury but continuing to smash her big SUV all along the side of Best Friend's car in her attempts to get off the sidewalk. Apparently, hitting the brakes wasn't the first thing on that crazy bitch's mind. Poor Best Friend's car was totaled, on top of which she had to deal with crazy bitch and her sketchy insurance situation. A few rental cars later and Best Friend had a new car. And then it got hit yesterday. This time it wasn't even running, let alone stopped. I'm fairly certain that I'm forgetting at least one incident involving car-crashes-in-which-Best-Friend-is-smashed. It's like she just shouldn't get into or even be in the general area of moving vehicles at all, ever. But since we live in Southern California, that just ain't gonna happen. Maybe she should look into driving a bumper car. That would be hilarious.

(P.S. I hate Dave Matthews and now I've got that song on repeat in my head. Grrrr...)

Precious Memories

I finally got to actually see Roommate yesterday. We did end up moving the tv over adjacent to the kitchen and flipping the couch around. Now the tiny dining table and chairs are over where the tv used to be. The big chair continues to be a problem, but we did discover that my window seat is the perfect place to store videos and dvds. I have a lot of old, rare, recorded-from-television-broadcasting stuff. Like Pinocchio in Space for example. As well as about six different versions of Cinderella. Because five just weren't enough for my family, apparently. The majority of these videos were recorded by Mama and Aunt Ann (Mama's lil' sister), I guess as emergency entertainment in case us kids tried to stage a mutiny or something. Or possibly to keep us out of the Giant Aqueduct of Doom that was in my childhood backyard.
Y'know, looking back, I had a pretty awesome childhood backyard. It was almost an acre and there were two levels. The upper level was a covered patio off the back of the house. There was a very short set of steps down to the lower level, I think like four or five steps. I'm sure I fell down them at some point. The lower level consisted of a large number of different fruit trees as well as not a few walnut trees. Now, walnut trees are just about the greatest kinds of trees to have if you're a kid. They are big and have thick, spreading branches that just beg for tree houses to be built in them (As a side note, I think that it's rather telling of our evolutionary history that kids always want to reside in trees). We had one tree house in the tree furthest from the house. The absolute best way to pass the seemingly endless hours of the day was to have walnut fights with the neighborhood kids. A few kids would get to be up in the tree house (usually myself, I've always been bossy) and the rest of the kids would be on the ground. There was really no rhyme or reason to these fights, no real goals beyond pelting someone with an unripe walnut. For those of you who are not in-the-know, an unripe walnut has an incredibly hard green casing around it, but it is smooth. Much easier to throw, and not so many injuries that bled, like if you got hit with a ripe, uncased, sharp walnut shell. There were just lots of bruises, which are much easier to excuse to parents. A bruised child doesn't need much explaining, whereas a bleeding child causes all kinds of inquisitions.
Another great way to entertain ourselves was exploring the aforementioned Giant Aqueduct of Doom. This was, for all intents and purposes, a strictly forbidden area for my brother and I. So naturally we were constantly enamored of its murky, cobwebbed depths. It extended completely down one side of our backyard. Half of it was an open, concrete-lined ditch, complete with standing water and tadpoles. The other half was an underground tunnel. It was only wide enough to hunch our way down, being very careful not to touch the walls, until we reached the street in front of the house. At that point, the tunnel drastically narrowed and became even more cobwebby. My brother and I spent many an hour conspiring to get into that tunnel undetected. We were hardly ever successful, which I think also contributed to the appeal.
We also had a rickety playground/swing set. It had a slide, which Mama contends that I once tried to ride a tricycle down. It also had a strange bench-facing-bench swing that, if we stood with one foot on each bench and got it swinging hard enough, had the potential to tip over the whole set. I don't recall that we ever did knock the set over, but there is a strong possibility that we did. We had an above ground pool too. I really don't remember a time in my childhood when swimming was not an everyday activity. We always had a pool (in 125 degree weather, everyone did) and my Nana lived on the beach. In spite of this, and of living in a town that not only contained a lake, but that was named after said lake, the one and only time I ever went into that lake was involuntarily. I still don't like lakes, they just make me squiggy.

So Uninspired

I have been trying to come up with a topic to post about all day, and I've got nothing. Best Friend recently posted this awesome thing about describing colors in terms of the other senses (smell, taste, touch, sound) and she wants me to do the same. The problem is that hers were so right on and so good that I don't know if I can separate myself from it enough to have mine be all that different. At any rate, if I do do that, it will be far in the future. I want to, I just want it to be good. And today I am just not feeling "it". Maybe having McDonald's for lunch has something to do with it.
I am continuing to love my new apartment, even if I am ambiguous about the current furniture arrangement. I found a bunch of those tab thingies that will hold the cable cord down along two of the walls in the living room last night. If we used those, the tv could be moved to the opposite wall from its current place, so it would be adjacent to the kitchen entrance. Plus, I would get some use out of the absurdly long cable cord I have. And maybe move the big chair over to where the tv is now, and put the table and chairs...where? By the sliding glass door? Man, furniture is still hard. I think that Roommate is not working tomorrow, so we can talk and stuff then. We still have to fill out the "Here's stuff that was already damaged when we moved in" section of the lease, and then actually mail the lease off.
In other, equally boring, news, my garage door flat out refuses to close the bottom six inches. I can't say that I really blame it though, I wouldn't want to touch the ground out there either. Be that as it may, leaving the garage door open six inches all the time is not a wise thing to do, particularly when all of the spaces are connected. It's like one long garage with separate doors. So I called Landlord today and he says he'll fix it. I'm not going to hold my breath though.

Holy God, I am boring myself. I'm sorry, I just can't get my brain to think anything today.

Ok, maybe this will be fun. I made the observation the other day that a significant majority of my post titles are either song titles or lyrics. I have a thing about music. Yeah, I know most people have a thing about music, I'm not special. But here's my thing: I always know the words to whatever song is playing anywhere I go. I also have an unconscious compulsion to sing along with whatever song I hear. I sing in stores, in restaurants, at the supermarket, everywhere. I also sing in the car like a normal person, thing is, I don't realize that I'm singing. Another strange thing that I do is this: I often will sing a song lyric as a response in conversation. Or I will pepper emails (and apparently blog posts) with lyrics. I am beginning to wonder why song lyrics are the most readily accessible thing in my brain. I would hope that after getting that Bachelor's Degree, I would have something else kicking around up there...

So, for those of you that have done a quick review of my post titles so far and think that I'm lying to you, here's the rundown:

So Uninspired -- Natural Woman "When I feel...so...uninspired"

Puzzle Pieces on the Floor -- Postal Service, Such Great Heights "I am thinking it's a sign that the freckles / in our eyes are mirror images and when / We kiss they're perfectly aligned / And I have to speculate / That God Himself / Did make us into corresponding shapes / Like puzzle pieces on the floor".

Call it What You Want to Call it -- a rap/hip hop song in which the next line is "I'm a fucking alcoholic".

Suspicious Minds -- If you didn't get this one you should be shot.

Head in the Clouds -- Fiona Apple, Sleep to Dream "I got my feet on the ground and I don't go to sleep to dream / You got your head in the clouds and you're not at all what you seem".

I'm Not an Addict -- Only this part of the title is a song. K's Choice, Not an Addict. Great song, she's got an awesome voice.

So Many Reasons -- This was actually Nivea, 25 Reasons Why. But I didn't have 25.

Sitting, Waiting, You Know the Rest... -- Jack Johnson, Sitting, Waiting, Wishing.

Win Some, Lose Some -- Bryan Addams. That right, Bryan Fucking Addams. That is what is in my head.

Shaky Ground -- Lemonheads, Shaky Ground.

That's all for now. The rest weren't references to songs.

Puzzle Pieces on the Floor

After I stayed up way too late last night watching Australia's Next Top Model (I have a problem...) I realized that having a roommate who works the night shift is just about the greatest thing ever. I didn't have to worry about the tv being too loud, and my deaf ass had that sucker blasting. I moved the furniture around finally, so our living room actually looks like people live there, not just like someone was using it as storage space. I did a couple loads in the fancy-pants dishwasher and I got to put the dishes where I wanted them (i.e. where I can actually reach them). The dishwasher does take like an hour, but if it wants to wash my dishes for me, it can take as long as it wants to.
In the course of setting up the living room, I came to the conclusion that it is the weirdest shape. Best Friend confirmed this when she came over to watch I Love New York (I told you, I have a problem). The cable outlet is directly opposite the sliding glass door, but we can't put the tv there or it will get all kinds of glare. We could move it to the kitchen wall and put the couch in the alcove area by the kitchen entrance, but then the cable wire will have to wrap around two walls and a doorway. No good. Right now the tv is next to the hallway and perpendicular to the sliding glass door, with the couch facing it. There is this big blank space right when you walk in the door that I have no idea what to do with. The sliding glass door is right next to the front door, so there's a whole lotta door going on there. And then a whole lotta empty space. Currently the big chair that matches the couch and the ottoman are over in that area kind of facing the hall. I sit sideways in that chair, so where it is now I can look out the sliding glass door or I can watch tv, depending on the way I'm facing. I don't know what else to do with that chair, it's so huge and it looks funny sitting there all by itself.
Bah.
Furniture is hard.

Deep Breathing Excercise

These past few days have been insane. Wednesday and Thursday of last week were spent frantically finishing a project at work (hence, no posts those days), Friday was spent packing up the rest of my belongings and having an emotional not-exactly-argument with Boyfriend. And then there was Saturday. Move-in Day. Everything went surprisingly well. With the actually moving of furniture anyway. I was so busy making sure that everything was packed and that I didn't leave anything behind and that my old place was properly cleaned that I forgot to eat properly. My hypoglycemia reared its ugly head and I done fainted y'all. I'm kind of embarrassed about it; I haven't even come close since Prom, when they thought I was drunk. Boyfriend found me, got me an orange and it was all okay. Except for the pounding in my head.
Even with that little episode, I managed to get all of my stuff moved in one day, with the help of Turbo's truck, Boyfriend, and Other Guy and his truck. So now I officially live in my beautiful new apartment with my often-absent roommate and Singe. Speaking of Singe, she is so happy already. I had thought that she would hide under the bed for at least a few days,but she was out and exploring the first day. She likes New Roommate and she seems to really like the new apartment. What she doesn't like is her new food. She basically ain't havin' it. I didn't feed her Saturday morning so that she would be all hungry when I fed her at the new apartment (which is a good trick to get her out from inside the box spring). So she got the new food Saturday afternoon. She ate a little of it Saturday and a little more on Sunday. This morning, however, she turned up her little cat nose at the same food that was perfectly fine the day before. I even buried treats under it, but no. She's suddenly too good for this food. Even though it's more expensive and better for her than the old food. Oh well, when she gets hungry enough, she'll eat it. It'll do her good to not eat so much anyway, she's too fat.
But look at this! I just moved to a whole new place and the only thing I'm worried about is that my cat doesn't like her food! Ah, life is beautiful...
Another way in which life is beautiful and this past weekend was great was that Old Roommate from College came up this weekend to visit. On Saturday she and Best Friend (who also lived with us, along with Number Four, which is a story for later) celebrated Purim, but on Sunday I, the poor neglected shiksa, was finally allowed to join them. We went out shopping and the only one who actually got anything was Boyfriend. He wasted his Boy-Shopping time right away and then was stuck wandering around with us Ladies for the rest of the time. Poor guy, we even went into Sephora. Just one of the ways that you can tell he doesn't have a sister.
After dinner, though, was the best time. Boyfriend and I walked the fifty feet to Best Friend's apartment and all four of us watched Pride & Prejudice (the Keira Knightley version). Now, before you knock on this version, I want to make it clear that I know that the Colin Firth version is a thousand times better. However, there are many important points about the K. K. version. 1) It is not 8 hours long. 2) The rain scene has more sexual tension packed into it than just about any other entire movie you can name. 3) Donald Sutherland. 4) The thing with Mr. Darcy's hand...so good.
So even though I had to take Boyfriend home a third of the way through it (I got back just in time for the rain scene), it was still a perfect night spent swooning on the couch with Old Roommate and Best Friend. Especially when Old Roommate informed us that Keira means "penises" in Farsi.