MustLovePringles

everything that’s in my head all day, all spilled out

No, it’s fine that I haven’t posted since April, really. December 17, 2010

Filed under: Uncategorized — mustlovepringles @ 10:32 am

OK, it’s not. It’s really not, and I’m relatively positive that anyone who read any of this is long gone. But on the off chance…

Things I should update: My husband has a job. Hurray! Our dog got her tummy issues together, thanks to the glorious people of Bil Jac. Hurray! I finished my first semester of grad school on Tuesday. HURRAYYYYY!!!!

In other news, I’m exhausted. Kthxbye.

 

 

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Updates. April 28, 2010

Filed under: Uncategorized — mustlovepringles @ 9:30 am

OK, I haven’t written in like a month. For some reason I tend to do this- I’ll blog a bunch at once, and then nothing for awhile. So here is what is going on:

-My dog cannot seem to get her shit together, literally. She is having some sort of tummy issue. We think it might be a gluten allergy, but it results in a lot of the runs, and poop that is the consistency of raspberry jam. Somehow I always knew deep in my heart that I would wind up with a dog that had some crazy issue, because the universe knows I have way too big of a heart to just give up on a sick animal and take it to a shelter or something. No way, no how. So we’re trying organic gluten-free protein-based Bil Jac. The encouraging thing is that we have heard from many people that their dog had something similar, and it just took finding the right diet to regulate it- I’ll let you know how it goes.

-The husband got laid off in late March. (I’m too lazy to pause writing this and see if I already mentioned this, but I don’t think I did.) So he’s job hunting, but is in general good spirits and has a good lead or two. In excellent news for me, this lay-off has resulted in him cooking dinner almost every night for me. And he actually cooks, it’s not just a sandwich or something- tonight was Sesame Ginger Shrimp with couscous. Yes, please.

-I got accepted to grad school! I start in the fall. I can’t decide whether I’m totally insane, or going to dominate. I’m hoping for an outcome of dominating with only the occasional bout of insanity and the rare mental breakdown/panic attack. I have 2 classes for the fall semester, so we’ll see how it plays out and if I ever have a social life again for the next 2-3 years.

-In news that is probably exciting only to me and the husband, we paid off our wedding rings today, therefore being completely free of any and all wedding debt. Th-rilling, seriously.

-I will have a new niece on June 6 or so, barring any changes in the C-section. My only niece is about to have her world rocked when she stops being the center of attention.

-The husband’s dad (recipient) and sister (donor) are doing really well post-kidney transplant. No major problems for either, we’re calling it an early success. =)

The end. I am le tired from a day of lots of advising/meetings, no caffeine and hot yoga- deuces.

 

It was THAT gross. March 24, 2010

Filed under: Uncategorized — mustlovepringles @ 8:26 pm

This happened close to 12 hours ago, and I still haven’t completely shaken it or been able to comprehend it.

So I got to our apartment gym kinda late last night- it was about 8:15, so this is a different crowd than I usually see in there. The lady I see walking around the park all the time was studying on a leg press (literally sitting there, studying- for a minimum of 45 minutes). There was a girl on a treadmill, guy on elliptical, pretty standard.  I was too busy watching Parenthood to really give anyone a second glance. (Thank you, thank you, NBC, for giving me Peter Krause again- that man is just too great. I don’t even care what show he’s one- I’m pretty much guaranteed to be a viewer. That’s a post for another day, though.) So I finish up, I wipe down my machine (WIPE DOWN YOUR MACHINES, PEOPLE) and I bend over to pick up my jacket, keys and free weights that I’d brought with me that were on the floor in front of my machine. I’m gathering my paraphernalia, glance to my left- and in front of the machine next to me is a pair of dirty underwear. I know I stared at it for about 3 seconds before I could comprehend what was going on. And on the machine was a girl, just merrily elliptical-ing along. This underwear was NOT there when I came in- otherwise I would have chosen another machine far away from the dirty underwear with dark streaks inside of it that appeared to be sweaty. WHAT WAS IT DOING THERE?

Now friends, it takes a lot to gross me out. I don’t recoil at poop or vomit. Terrible smells don’t get to me. In general, I have a very high tolerance for gross (having my baby brother puke in my mouth 19 years ago really sealed the deal on the high tolerance.) But I was disgusted. There was no dog there who could drag something like that out from the dirty clothes, and she didn’t have anything but a book with her, so there aren’t any other clothes it could have just become wrapped in. SO WHY THE DIRTY UNDIES? Truly disgusting, gross, and unhygienic on every level. I was too much of a chicken/too tired to say anything to this girl, although in retrospect I should have picked them up with a bleach wipe and just thrown them in the trash. But seriously- who DOES that?

Sincerely,

Horrified in Houston

 

Maybe I shouldn’t be doing this March 18, 2010

Filed under: Uncategorized — mustlovepringles @ 2:40 am

Every so often I run across a really bad blog. Actually, about 1/2 the time I’m blog perusing, I fall into a bad one. I’m talking about the ones that sounds like they’re written by 30-something housewives who have never worked, have no sense of irony /sarcasm/wit, do not have great story-telling capabilities or great stories to tell and can’t see that they are writing the sort of thing that we all endure in the yearly Christmas letter from a great aunt written from the perspective of the family dog with lots of puns including the word “ruff” (actually, I shouldn’t knock that one, given that I recently wrote a thank you note on behalf of Gabby to her day-after-spaying caretakers and traced her paw for a signature.) It’s even worse when you know the person behind the blog, and the blog makes you a little less enthusiastic about being their acquaintance. I don’t think I’m the best blogger in the world. I wouldn’t even say I’m in the top 70%- I’m sporadic in writing, I have no continuity or theme of content on the blog and I’m too wordy and wandering in my thoughts. But at least I can’t envision someone reading what I’m writing and thinking, “Dear God, she’s one of those people that you can only call ‘nice’ because there isn’t enough personality there to give them a better adjective.” I’m all for blogs that give a glimpse into daily life of a family- I love reading my friend Ashley’s blog since I don’t get to see her often but I feel like I’m keeping up on what’s up with her and her husband and the baby. Ashley is funny. She writes well. And she knows the difference between telling a story and trying to make every event in life into a cute anecdote.  This is the fundamental difference between good and bad “daily life” blogging. (Christa, this applies to you as well. You’re entertaining to read. And I like that you treat Mac like a person, since I treat Gabby the same way.) I just hope I don’t become that really crappy blogger. If I do, someone please force me to pull the plug on mustlovepringles so I can’t inflict the pain on others.

Can I go have my green beer(s) yet?

 

The Paper Trail and other stories of excellent customer service March 17, 2010

Filed under: Uncategorized — mustlovepringles @ 12:25 am

I FINALLY have accomplished what I thought would never get done- I’ve navigated my dental insurance successfully and declared a dentist and made an appointment. I am too humiliated to tell how long it’s been since I’ve been to a dentist, but it’s more than a year, which is BAD for someone who really likes to have teeth, preferably healthy teeth.

I have also spent an entire hour dealing with the aforementioned insurance and the various websites connected to all our other insurance, retirement programs and my student loans, all because of name and address changes and passwords being reset because I really can’t remember 17 log-ins. To get a password to my work retirement account, I have to mail them a form. As in through the mail with a stamp. And they’ll mail me one back with a temporary password, again through mail with stamp. And then I can reset my password online. Does the state have any idea how much money it could save by just not being paper-happy? I mean, really, a rainforest in South America is crying right now, as are the postal workers carrying this crap.

The student loan dealings, though, are my favorite. I am trying to be a responsible, conscientious citizen and get my name changed on my student loans so everything is in order should something to happen to me or in case I need to take out other loans for grad school. I want the impeccable record of my maiden name tied to the new record of my married one, darn it.  So I call customer service. After 3 departmental transfers, I reach the most unhelpful woman possible. After explaining that I had had a legal change in my last name and asking how I changed the record to match, she put me on hold for 7 minutes. Then she came back and told me to mail them my ID. I’m sorry- do you mean a copy? (Yes). And should I write anything on this paper that has the ID copy on it? (Yes.) (Silence.) Can you tell me what to write? (Your request.) Is there any kind of wording I need to use? (No.) (Silence.) OK, so I just write that I want my name changed on my loans? Do you need my account number or something? (Yes.) Ma’am, I’m sorry if this is rude, but I feel like you’re really not giving me all the information I need. Can you please tell me everything I need to include in my written request on my paper copy of my ID in order to get the name on my loans changed to match my legal name? (Well, the ID copy, your account number, and your request.) And there is no form for this? Is this not a normal occurrence? (No, no form.) (Silence.) OK, fine, I’ll mail it in. How long should I expect before it’s changed? (10-14 business days) Is faxing quicker? (Yes.) Ok, I’ll do that then. How long will that take? (10-14 business days.) (Sound of me smacking my desk trying not to scream.) So it’s the same? (Yes.) Awesome. OK. Thanks, then. (OK, thank you ma’am. Please stay on the line for a quick survey to give us feedback on my performance. You may press 5 for all questions to give me an excellent rating, and have a nice day.) Scale is 5 being best, 1 being abysmal. 1, 1, 1, 1, I hate you.

 

Half of my heart’s got a grip on the situation March 13, 2010

Filed under: Uncategorized — mustlovepringles @ 2:15 am

But half of my heart takes time. Wait, who am I faking for? Like 99% of my heart takes time, and approximately .5% has a grip.

So this may be coming from the fact that I slept/dreamt too much while sick this week (you don’t want details, trust) and it may come from the fact that yet another friend of mine is pregnant (unexpectedly albeit very happily) or from the fact that I am obsessively checking my grad school app page 3 times a day, but I am having some serious issues reconciling the two halves of my heart and head. There is side A, who I will refer to by the reasonable and predictable name of Thomas. Thomas wants me to get into grad school, to complete grad school and to start a high-flying career. Thomas wants me to get my bank accounts in order, FINALLY deal with that 401K that is floating out in the great white somewhere of some bank in Indiana and to become a very secure adult. Then there is Phoebe, who is obviously more flightly and a lot less plan-oriented. Phoebe says screw it all and focus on what you’re really wanting out of life- and what I really want is to start a family. Not tomorrow, mind you, but sooner than 3 years from now (my assumed date of completing grad school).

So here’s where stuff gets messed up. I want to merge Phoebe and Thomas into some moderately cohesive thought pattern that I would call normal. I want to get into grad school, and I want to start grad school- but I think it would maybe be ok to have a baby a year into it. And I don’t know if it’s ever worth waiting to be “ready” and “prepared” to have a baby, because let’s be honest, that will never happen to any of us. The most enthusiastic and grateful mother on the planet will have momentary flashes of, “why did I ever do this?” throughout her motherhood career. But I want a house. I want a solid career. I want all of it (and frankly, I wouldn’t mind a CR-V, which is seriously unsettling as that is what my mother drives). So this isn’t a unique struggle- every female in the modern world has wanted to do all this. But why do I feel so pressed for time? I AM ONLY 26.  But also, where the heck am I/we going to get money to buy a house? Where am I/we going to find cash to pay for grad school? Why am I going to grad school to do something that will not pay me tremendous amounts of skrilla? (Answer- because I genuinely love what I do, and most days, that is enough. Today is not one of those days.) And the most jacked up part- I want to have a baby, but I am completely cognizant of the fact that I am having trouble adapting to consistently considering the needs of a DOG. I am nowhere approaching “ready” to take on another human life. And yet, I want to SO much. Even though I don’t want to at all, and I want to go out with friends. Even though I really don’t have the cash money to go out much, which means I certainly don’t have the cash money to pay the $800 grand a kid costs, or whatever the latest figure is.  Is this making your head hurt yet? Welcome to Thomas and Phoebe. They are both words I cannot type on a work computer during lunch break.

This is one exceptionally whiny post, and I’m willing to own that. And this weekend, I’ll work on taking apartment pictures to make up for this and to give the blog a bigger dose of sanity than it got today. But as cliche as quarter-life crisis sounds, I get it. And I’m there. Again. It’s 2010- how come no one has figured out the solution to having it all without making your head explode?

 

Couldn’t I have at least had Bradley Cooper in this mess? March 8, 2010

Filed under: Uncategorized — mustlovepringles @ 11:56 am

So here’s a good story. Full disclosure below, and it isn’t really for the faint of heart or those who have judgmental tendencies.

Yesterday (a Saturday), my husband and a few of his friends participated in a charity chili cook-off. They got into the spirit of it and decided it wasn’t enough to just have the best chili, but they needed to have the best costumes. The end result?

It had to be this big so you could really appreciate the fine details- the crawfish on the apron, the camo shorts, the mullet (that my aunt, after a few beers, thought was real), the short jorts. Definitely the best costumes, since this was a non-costumed cook-off and no one else had costumes at all. However, their chili was delicious, and their antics helped win them People’s Favorite, which included some nifty prize money. After the prizes were awarded this point, I left to go to the John Mayer concert. I called my husband right before the concert started to remind him to feed the dog, and one of the lovely boys above answered. He said my husband was passed out. I was confused; I had left the bar at 5:30 or so and no one was drunk, and it was only 8:00. The concert started before I could ask any questions, so I hung up and enjoyed every single second of the JM concert- 5th and favorite so far.

And then I came home.

I get home with my friend, and we’re deadbolted out. So after banging on the door like cops at an after-prom party, the chili cooking friend who I’d talked on the phone with earlier answers the door with bleary eyes. I walk into the apartment with EVERY light on, including closets, and my dog greets me with the closest thing she can give to a hug without having elbows, and refuses to leave my side. So I’m looking for my husband, dog in tow. I find him in bed, dead asleep, and there is puke on the floor. Seriously, people, how old are we? How old are we that we can’t vomit into a receptacle that has a rinsing function? As I’m muttering something to this effect while Resolve-ing the stain issue, he stirs and asks me what time it is- this is the first of 3 times he’ll ask this in the next 3 minutes. Meanwhile, Chili Cookoff Friend (CCF) is stumbling around because I forced him out of the guest room to make room for my out of town friend who’d booked that bed months in advance, and he’s asking when the dog was let out (she is kenneled when no one is home, and he’d said on the phone she was kenneled). I said I didn’t know… didn’t he do that, since she was out when I got home? No, he did not; obviously neither did my husband the coma patient. At some point in this conversation, the dog jumps on the husband, who stumbles out of bed- stumbles out of bed and into a wall. I ask them CCF and husband just what the hell happened- and I get blank stares. Over the next 10 minutes, we determine the following:

  • they are still drunk
  • the husband was coherent enough to puke into a toilet at one point- as evidenced by the towel “bed” I found on the floor
  • they have no idea how the dog got out of the kennel, and suggested she might have opposable thumbs
  • they don’t know how they got home
  • they don’t know where the other chili cook off friends are, but they’re pretty sure they left one at the bar by himself
  • they may or may not have thrown up in a bar, which may or may not have occurred in the bar’s bathroom
  • no, they cannot guarantee that they did not steal Mike Tyson’s tiger, because at this point it would make sense if they had

Ladies and gentlemen, it was live action The Hangover. It was ridiculous enough that I wasn’t even mad, just confused- swear on my life I was expecting to find Carlos pleasuring himself in a closet at any minute. Within 30 minutes time, we’re no closer to answers, but all stains are up, the worst of the trauma  has worn off the poor dog and everyone was in bed. By morning, I had confirmation that everyone was alive (one was left at the bar, but with his girlfriend and other friends, which my husband does not remember seeing although there is photographic evidence), they had gotten home thanks to a non-drinking friend driving them because the motor functions weren’t good enough to walk the ONE BLOCK home from the bar, and a big part of the problem here was guys who bought my husband and friends neon green shots called Slimers, known from now on as liquid amnesia- oh, and the Jaeger shots. No permanent damage, except possibly to the bars they patroned- and to my precious Samoas/Caramel Delights, whose empty box I found hidden in a closet this morning.

Who needs Vegas when you have daytime chili cookoffs?

Why don’t we remember a goddamn thing from last night?
Obviously because we had a great fucking time.”

-The Hangover