The Countdown Begins

Man. You'd think that after what my Bf said about me in my last post, he'd tread cautiously.

Wrong.

Since I've entered her life, Jessie's been in heaven. Although she's not allowed, Jessie snoozes on the couch. We know this b/c there's dog hair on the couch. Hummm...wonder how that got there. But when I'm around, she gets on the couch. Even though Bf doesn't allow it. I do, because its easier to pet her when we're both on the couch versus me on the couch and her laying down. It puts a crick in my neck.

The bed is also off limits. She gets away with it every once in a while with me, but Bf's not fond of it. Something about how she needs boundaries, and they're all disappearing now that I've arrived. Whatever-I tend to tune him out after that.

Oh hell, ever since I started spending the night, Jessie's been upstairs in our room. Bf used to leave her downstairs and put the kiddy gate at the foot of the stairs so she couldn't get up. Hence why she would sleep on the couch and then get off when she heard him coming down. But now he's moved her cushion and blanket into his bedroom and she sleeps there everynight. Even nights I'm not there. See how I'm slowly but surely changing him? HAHA!!

She's gone to the bathroom inside the house, and Bf gets really mad. She's trained to not do that, but you know...shit happens. Literally. We're really good at letting her out before we head upstairs, but the other night we forgot. Oops. So she did her thing right outside his closet door.

Bf woke up because Jessie was acting crazy, saw what she did, and had to clean it up ASAP. Then he took her downstairs, put her in her crate, and started stuying in the kitchen, but supposedly Jessie was whining so loudly that Bf was afraid it would wake up, so he let her out.

I slept through it all. I slept through her acting crazy, through Bf turning on the closet light and cleaning up her mess, through her whining downstairs. But that's not the point.

I mentioned how I was surprised that I slept through everything. I'm not a light sleeper, but usually noise for a substantial amount of time will wake me up. And what did my loving and caring Bf say?

"Yeah, you were totally out. And there was some weird noises. I wasn't sure if it was you or Jessie farting."

Anybody see D-Day coming?

Foot in Mouth

The reason I'm attaining a higher education is because I don't have model looks to rely on. That being said, I'm not skinny. Well, let me clarify- I'm not skinny compared to the average American, but I am skinny compared to a sumo wrestler. You get my drift.

I have a gym membership that I think about going more often than I actually go. My stomach isn't flat and hard, and my ass isn't tight and bouncy. When its all tallied up though, I'm not too too shabby.

I like screwing around with Jessie and try to dodge her. Usually this comes in the form of her chasing me around Bf's house. It totally gets her riled up and for the next hour she's literally stuck by my side. Last night she was chasing me around, and when I stopped, she jumped on me. She's trained to not jump on people, but when she gets excited, she forgets everything. When she jumped on me, her right paw lifted up my shirt, and she scratched me from the bottom of the boob diagonally across my stomach.

Ouch.

Later I lifted up my shirt to show Bf what his dog did to me.
"Look at this!!!"

His response? "Cardio will take care of that."

I think the look of utter shock on my face hit him hard and he realized I was referring to the scratch mark, and not my stomach flab.

Welcome to relationships.

Maytag Man

This is the first time in years that I've lived by myself. I would rather suffer through 3 root canals and a 10 ingrown toenails than live by myself. Needless to say, I don't do it when I don't have to. But...I am living by myself now. Which means I have to buy everything myself from scratch. I just bought a sofa last weekend, and will be getting a dinette set this weekend.

My fridge should be stocked, since no one will stock it if I don't. However, currently an old bag of grapes and a Brita filter reside there. Nothing else. I would grocery shop, but I am lucky enough to find a guy who is willing to house me, feed me, and let me play with his dog. I really am never home.

However, before all this, I had the lofty goals of cooking myself. I bought a brand new set of pots and pans, and went to Costco and bought enough Cascade to clean a few rounds of cruise ship dishes. After the dishwasher was loaded, I turned it on, and nothing happened. Now since there's only a dial on the dishwasher, its not like I had much to fiddle around with. So I popped the door open, and all the dishwashing liquid had already fallen out. Fantastic. So I unload everything, head out to the leasing center, and fill out a maintenance form. Simply put: dishwasher does not turn on.

Went and ran errands.

Came back, and the maintenance form left on my kitchen read: need to flip dishwasher switch.

Huh?

Since when did dishwashers have a switch that needed flipping? See? This is what happens when I live with someone else. All this stuff is already done and spoken for. No worries. Re-load dishwasher, made sure switch is flipped, put in more dishwashing liquid, and off it goes!

Three days later I find myself in my apartment for more than half an hour, and decide to unload the dishwasher, as well as do a load of laundry and break down boxes (this is about as domestic as I am going to get). Opened the door, and shit-the bottom of the dishwasher is filled to the brim with water. WTF. Half an inch more, and it would have spilled out onto the kitchen floor.
After I unload the goodies, I head out to the leasing center, and fill out another maintenance form. Simply put: dishwasher flooded.

So now the problem is that I have to run the sink disposal at some point to make sure there's no excess water in the washer. Huh? I am baffled. Do I run it before I run the dishwasher? While the dishes are being washed? Afterwards? I have no clue. Maintenance claimed it had to do with the sink being backed up, which will backup the dishwasher. Which I find scary because hello, I havne't done anything to back up the sink. I haven't cooked or eaten anything because I don't have clean pots or pans (duh), or clean silverware, and don't even own a set of plates yet. Maybe the person before me was grinding body parts in the sink...

The Nanny

My family works. There's no way around it-no ifs, ands, or buts. As a result, my brother and I have been brought up with a strong work ethic (him more than me) and a need to pull in a paycheck.

Now that I am a full time student, the money goes out but a paycheck never comes in. Trust me when I say it sucks. I am attending "math camp" for the months of June and July. I suck at math, and don't want to be in the "sink" position when the fall quarter begins. Needless to say, the first few days are slow, and its mainly administrative stuff. So, to preoccupy my mind from a)not having a car b)not having money and c) slowly but surely going insane, I hang out at bf's pad. He's not there (thankfully fully employed), but its alright. I keep Jessie company. Ok, well, Jessie keeps me company.

But in entertaining her, I've realized how much I feel like a nanny/stay-at-home mom. I even told BF this, which got a funny look, but...eventually, a laugh (I am a riot). I started off the day washing dishes and cleaning the kitchen. The kitchen layout is such that there is a vent right under the sink where my feet are planted. Its cold. Sadly, the air conditioning unit just downright sucks, and while my feet are growing icicles, the rest of the house is plain hot. A side note-its broke 100 degrees the past few days, which is unheard of in this part of the country at this time of the year. Usually, these temperatures hit around July-August. Not early June.

Anyway, so while I'm loading up the dishwasher, I decide to go out and get kitchen rugs. One for the sink, and one to put in front of the stove. So I get my things ready, load Jessie up in the car, and off we go. Holy shit it is hot as all hell. I feel like I'm in an inferno surrounded by heat and...well...trees. Jessie's my copilot (although she sheds more in shotgun than gives worthwile directions), and I hate to leave her in the car for an extended period of time, so I haul ass in Target, and then out of Target, and we're back home.

Jessie's a 70 lbs. labrador retriever with a huge personality and a propensity to lick. Everything. She thinks she's a lap dog, and one of her favorite pasttimes, I've noticed, is getting right up in my grill and panting. Even though she's adorable, her breathe stinks. Its hot, and smells of dog food. Constantly. I shouldn't be complaining about her panting. All hell breaks loose when she starts licking, because her bad breathe clings to my face, neck, arms, and legs.

The only solution I could come up with is to take her to Petsmart and have them brush her teeth. Well if I do that, I might as well take her in to get a bath. So off we go to Petsmart. I drop her off, and have two hours to run all my errands. After I pick her up, we cruise around the neighborhood. She likes it when I roll the window down so she can stick her head out the window. We've done it before, but because of cars behind us, we end up going roughly 50 mph, which is a tad bit too fast for her. She likes it when I cruise at school zone speed. After doing that for about 20 minutes, we head home, and it is dinner time.

When did taking care of a dog become a full time job?

A Whole New World

As I slowly settle into my new life, I've noticed a few things. The most prevalent is that I am way too high strung. This is probably a product of living in a huge cities my whole life. Out here in BFE, the pace is much slower. I'm talking much slower like watching paint dry. Hopefully this will help me slow down, and take time and smell the roses.

Here's another thing: why do people complain about rush hour here? Let me tell you-rush hour is anything 20mph and under (basically, school zone). Anyone in their right mind would not consider 45 mph 'rush hour.' Please. If that's the worst it gets out here, I'm never leaving.

I love trees. But not when it causes me to get lost. And boy do I get lost. A lot. But its not my fault- in LA, I got by because of major landmarks, buildings, and signage. Here's there's absolutely nothing but trees. I can't tell the damn difference between one one-way road and another. Its all the same-they're all windy and lined with trees. Half the time I feel like I'm driving from one end of BFE to another. I don't know how other people do it, but its near impossible for me. The bright side is...wait...there is no bright side. I mentioned to someone that there are so many dense pockets of trees that it would be easy for a killer to hide a body. Somehow I thought it was very feasible, but I received a strange look. Hummm...

This is Jessie. Isn't she a cutie pie? This is one of the few calm moments she's had, although she's half sitting on my legs. She's my friend's dog, but I'm trying to take over. Slowly but surely...
I've spent a lot of time lately with her, and have the battle wounds to show for it. Two bruises on my right knee, a bruise on my middle finger of my right hand, and scratches on both my arms. She has totally manhandled me.