Things I Don't Like About Spring

Well, if you know me at all, you know that I hate winter. And if you know me, but you didn't know that, then you actually don't know me and we either need to spend more time together or stop all together. I'll let you decide. So I hate winter, but at least with winter you know it's going to be super crappy all the time. Spring on the other hand is literally the bastard child of winter and summer. Spring has all the worst parts of both seasons, and some added bonuses that just suck the fun out of the whole season. So without further ado, here is my list of things that I don't like about spring:

-Short shorts with super pale legs - We get it, it's kind of warm out. You still have a winter tan. What made you think this was a good idea? Wear those in private until you stop glowing in the dark. Also, you are wearing them with Uggs. Clearly you're still cold. Put on pants. Enough said.

-Unusually warm days - This is one of the most jackass things that happens during spring. It's such a tease. It's like one day it's cold, and then cool, and then suddenly you're in your car driving home from work with your heater on for three months and you start to sweat. You check carefully to see if you accidentally left your window down a little bit again and it's melting snow on your brow, but it's not! It's sweat! You're actually warm, warmer than warm. Uncomfortably warm. Probably because you also have a scarf and winter coat on.

-Workout guilt - Caused by the unusually warm days. It reminds me that summer is coming soon and there is no way I'm going to fit into that bikini that Target put out in January. Which reminds me, who tries on a bikini in January? Do you know what I've been eating for the past two months? Just consider the holidays that have occurred in the past two months, that should at least give you a hint at what sorts of awfulness I've been consuming. Like sugar cookies for breakfast. Or sugar cookie dough for pre-breakfast. Bad news all over. No one wants to try on a bikini in January. No one.

-Having to shave my legs (more often) - Also because of unusually warm days. This means purchasing a razor that I don't hate or find the one that has been hibernating behind some body wash for a while and actually trying. Trying is so over-rated in the spring.

-Blizzards - This is something spring gets from it's jerk parent winter. They usually happen within a few days of an unusually warm day, and blizzards totally screw up everything. I'm not just talking driving, or taking the dogs out or looking outside, but other things. Like, by now I've probably decided to shave my legs...and then suddenly out of no where there's an asshole blizzard and I'm back to dressing like a homeless Eskimo. Shaved them for nothing. Awesome.

-Birds - aka: The 4 F-ing AM Bird Chorus. See the Owlyote post for more info on how shitty birds can be.

-Daylight Savings Time - Losing an hour can seriously suck my nuts. How stupid is this? I was just getting used to being able to actually see where my dogs pooped at 5:30 in the morning when suddenly it's dark again. Really? Great. I'll just continue to use the light on my phone to search the ground for that shit...literally.

-Mud - Guess where all that snow goes after the blizzard on the next unusually warm day? No where because the ground is mostly frozen still. So it sits on the surface in the dry grass and makes the world a giant soggy puddle. Sad face.

-Spring Fever - Spring means it is almost summer. Summer means I get to sit outside and read and get tan and do nothing for hours on end. Spring is the perfect time to daydream about doing such things because they aren't actually possible yet. Daydreaming means I sit and stare at nothing or draw on sticky notes until they cover my desk. Because this keeps me so impossibly busy for hours on end, it also means that I'm not doing anything even resembling responsibility. This also means that there is an increase in the number of students I see licking each other's faces in the hallway. It's like they've forgotten that they're still in public and people can see them. So gross.

So there you have it. My list of things that I don't like about spring. I know summer is just around the corner, and I should just hold on for a little bit longer until it gets here...but this sucks. Until it warms up enough for me to only wear one bra at a time out of fear of being accused of trying to give directions with my chest, I will continue to curse mother nature and also continue to dress like an Eskimo, but a cute homeless one...does that count?

Carpet Tacks are Jerks

Imagine the scene if you will: 3 am or some other ungodly hour. Just finished another episode of Dawson's Creek (which is awesome by the way). I think I'm starving...or at least the alien noises coming from my stomach indicate this to be true. So, I head to the kitchen. I manage to avoid all of the sharp puppy toy landmines Matilda set out before she went to bed (that brat) and am almost to the kitchen when suddenly, out of no where, an ASSHOLE carpet tack jumps up exactly where I'm about to step. So of course I step on it. When this happens, I will usually have one of 3 reactions:

Reaction 1: Sudden pain reaction: aka the RAGE. This reaction usually involves several of my favorite swear words (which I won't write here because I know my mom reads this blog-Hi Mom!) followed by a kick/punch/flipping something over which makes me even madder and in more pain than I was initially. I'm not good with sudden unexpected pain. (If I stub my toe or bite my cheek--look out!) This reaction also happens most often. The rage usually subsides in a matter of moments and I'm back on a food mission.

Reaction 2: Recoil reaction: This reaction includes a quick hop in any direction but down, a quick inhale of breath because I stopped breathing when I felt the tack start to pierce my skin, and then more swearing when I realize I'm wearing socks and the carpet tack has just ripped another hole in my sock. Not as much rage with this reaction, but it usually means I have to throw my socks away. And then my feet get cold and then I'm crabby, but not awful. A snack usually helps and since this is what I was headed to the kitchen for anyway, it's all good.

Reaction 3: Frantic retaliation reaction: I will fully step on the tack out of spite thinking the weight of my body will shove it back to HELL where it came from. I then rapidly flip the light on and throw myself on the floor to search for the tack, turning my head sideways to the floor with one eye closed to find its jerk face sticking up out of the carpet. Sometimes I've got the hammer or a shoe or something when I do this, does that count? But by the time all of this happens, the carpet tack has retreated back into it's evil lair to wait for it's next victim. I shake my fist at the supposed location of the carpet tack and curse its exsistence.

Well, you'd think by now I'd learn to gauge the distance to the wood floor in the kitchen and avoid the line between the carpet and the wood floor, but more often than not I either misjudge or I'm too tired to care and I end up along that line. It's a complete crapshoot as to which reaction I'll have, or if it'll be a combination of them. Someday I'll find that damn tack and I'll nail it's ass back to the floor where it belongs...until then, you might want to wear earmuffs to visit if you're easily offended by violent swear words and flying tables. And if you're not, we can probably be friends because that happens a lot. You could even join in if you want!

My Shower Rocks!

One of the first things I wanted to add to the new apartment when I moved in was a GIANT shower head. It only took me a year and a half to do it, does that count? Before the new shower head, there was a tiny little shower head that barely drizzled enough water onto my body so I didn't freeze to death. I was constantly moving and spinning and shifting to get water anywhere but on my shoulder. I was barely able to get enough water to soak the body scrub, let alone wash my hair in less than 30 minutes or say, shave my legs. Granted, I'm remarkably skilled at shaving my legs in the bathroom sink but all it takes is a few slips and you look like you tried shaving with a kitten. This particular shower head, I'm fairly certain, was installed when the apartment was built, or was borrowed from an apartment built in the '80s. Either way, it was a piece of silver shit. Several of the holes on the side of it were blocked by mineral buildup, and several of the water sprays went straight over the top of the shower curtain. There were days it looked like there was more water on the floor than in the shower itself. Not only did the shower not fulfill my needs, but Cooper and Matilda suffered as well. And you might be asking yourself, "Self, do dogs really have shower needs?" And the answer to that question is yes. The fact you are asking this question makes me think you don't care about your shower head. It also tells me you may not have dogs. (Shame on you, dogs are awesome!) On the occasion that it was puppy bath time, I would have to practically sit in the tub with them and pour water out of a cup on them. They'd give me a look, especially Matilda, that says "Really? A cup of water at a time? You know that once you pour it that I start to freeze. Look, I'm shivering. Happy now? And now I'm pissed. I'm going to shake and disperse some of that elsewhere...like on your socks. Oh, and on THE REST OF ME THAT IS STILL DRY BECAUSE A CUP OF WATER WON'T DO IT." Because of this behavior, one of the requirements of the new shower head was that it had the sprayer attachment. Well, after searching tirelessly at Bed, Bath, and Beyond I spotted it. Sitting there, in all of it's giant awesome glory, THE shower head of my dreams. Is it pathetic that I dream of a shower head that has rainbows and sparkles coming out of it? Maybe. But is it any more pathetic than my old stupid shower head? Nope. There's something about standing in the shower now that makes me feel like I might actually make it in this world. And all it took, was a giant, magical, rainbow and sparkle shooting shower head. And now when the dogs threaten to start shaking water everywhere, especially if they start eyeing my socks (wet socks are the worst thing ever-period), I can just soak them with the sprayer and stare at them in wide-eyed, glorious ecstasy...because my shower head rocks!

Emergency Express Pedicure

On a whim I decided to get a pedicure today. It's winter. It was snowing. I haven't shaved my legs in ages. But, I went anyway. Partly because I like the massage chair (unless I get the broken one, which happens on occasion and gives me the rage), and partly because I like to look down at my toes and see them painted better than I could ever hope to do on my own. It makes me feel like I'm actually taking care of myself, even though I'm probably not. When I arrived, there was a woman guarding the nail polish wall. LITERALLY she was guarding it, like someone was going to take her favorite color or something, but she already had a color in her hand, so...not really sure what her deal was. I tried to move a chair next to her to get to the wall and she ever so slightly shifted her weight to her other foot to take up more space on my side. I had a momentary flash of body checking her over the half wall near the pedicure chairs, and she flew super high up in the air and landed in a cloud of dust...screaming the whole way. It was funny; I laughed. The laugh made me calmer and I just stepped up to the wall and took my sweet ass time choosing a color. She huffed and went and sat next to her husband (wtf?) that she had forced to come and sit with her. (For those of you who've never had a pedicure, it takes a long time. And unless you are also getting a pedicure, there is no way you will enjoy sitting in a nail salon waiting for someone else to get one. I don't care if the nail techs are strippers and the Playboy channel is on and there is a chocolate fountain in the corner guarded by a unicorn and/or genie that grants you wishes. You just won't. The lighting in those places is terrible, but not in the 'it's dark and sexy in here' kind of way, in an annoying 'I can't really read this magazine but you can't see my leg hair' kind of way, and the smell from the nail stations is enough to coat your lungs in a rather toxic kind of way.) So after the Nail Polish Nazi moved, I narrowed it down to two similar grey/brown sparkle colors (it is winter and all and hot pink isn't really a winter color). So I turned the bottles upside down, because clearly they would look better or worse at a different angle or something, and realized they had names. Now, I'd love to have a job where people bring me colors and I point to them and give them names. I'd give them ridiculous names, beyond ridiculous names, because most people don't read the names on nail polish bottles. They pick one because it is a sparkly purple blue that matches their underwear band or some damn thing, not because it's called 'Mystery Hour'...unless you're me. That is how I made my decision. The darker color was called 'My Private Jet'. It sounded cool, made me picture myself on a private jet, and I was wearing an amazing little black dress. The color was nowhere to be found in my fantasy, but I liked the picture it painted in my head. The lighter color was called 'Ingrid'. 'Ingrid'? Really? I pictured an overweight opera singer in sweat pants. No offense if your name is Ingrid, but it's my connotation and I'll have it if I want to. Guess which color I chose? (If you said 'Ingrid', we need to talk about how much you actually know about me. AND you have to stop reading my blog. Right now. Go. I'll wait...)
As I was waiting, I looked at the other colors the other women around me had picked. The woman to my left picked 'Mystery Hour'. I know this because her name is Tina and I dragged her there with me and that's how she picked her color...by name...which is why we're friends. The woman to my right had a color akin to a crushed up smurf...blood and all. It was a bright blue/purple/red sparkle color. I never knew you could get that much awful into a little tiny glass bottle. The woman next to her had clear...with GIANT ASS CHUNKS of silver sparkle. It just looked lumpy. The woman next to her had a sad, dark green. I'm not sure how a color can be sad, but it was. Like a crushed velvet dress your mom makes you wear to church on Christmas because it fits and it's green, but it itches and is faded and you hate it type of green. It made me sad for her. And the woman next to her was actually a good looking black man in a suit. And a long tie. I think he was there with his girlfriend, but he was clearly no stranger to the pedi chair. It was great! (No nail polish for him--but he did read an entire stack of People magazines). As I looked at the colors around me, it inspired me to create my own colors and play God naming them. So I did:

Well, the sad thing is I'm pretty sure people would actually choose these colors to wear without knowing what the color was called. I think I might actually own the pink one...but it's called "Celebrity Sparkle" or something. Does that count?

Owlyote

Picture it: Well, there I am lying peacefully in bed reading, on my phone, at 11pm or some ridiculous hour when suddenly I'm wide awake. I turn my phone off (so I can hear better? Does that count as a reason?) and listen.

"Do you hear that?" I ask in a panicked whisper/shout (it's not easy to do, trust me).

"Hear what?" my half asleep husband mumbles.

"That owl. Or coyote. Or whatever that is howling out there..." Now I'm trying to open the shades to see outside.

"Um, no. Do you hear an owl?" Husband rolls over and asks. *wide eyed blank stare*

"Stop it. You know you hear it too."

"Yeah, sure I do..." *insert quizzical 'Should I call the funny farm?' look* Husband gives up and goes back to sleep.

I swear there was something howling outside my window last night. I couldn't tell if it was an owl or a coyote, because it kind of sounded like it was coming from the roof of the building next to us, but it also sounded like it was hiding behind a car in the parking lot, and either it was flying around like a spaz outside or it was on the ground playing with the acoustics (because I assume that's what they do with their free time), so location as an indicator was not helping. So I've decided that it is a new breed of hybrid animal. Enter: Owlyote. And if this wasn't bad enough, all it's little bird friends decided to put on a show at early this morning. Owlyote was the conductor of the chorus (the It's 4 F-ing AM Bird Chorus). Really, you have to see it to understand. So here it is:

I like that he has fur AND feathers on his body, and that his coyote arms (front legs?) are actually owl wings. The bird chorus looks happy enough, and it was actually dark outside but I didn't draw the sky. Sue me.