trinityvixen: (no sense)
Good thing I found band-aids when I was cleaning up my desk!

Y'all are so jealous of my talent, let me tell you. As a consequence of not exercising too much then exercising too much in a short span (read: thirty minutes a day, two days in a row; why yes, I am horribly out of shape, how did you know?), I am now experiencing a twinging pain in my hip--probably like what [livejournal.com profile] feiran used to complain of when she over-exercised. It's not too bad, just kind of annoying.

But wait! There's more! I went to clean off counters (because they are covered in plaster dust from our walls finally being patched up) and move my blender over to the counter next to the sink (because we need a plug free for the refrigerator, and something that spills wet stuff should really be on the linoleum anyway). The blender is dusty, so I wash all the pieces and just shove my hand down into the cup. Where the blade is. The blade that routinely, in an ungodly fast manner, makes ice cubes into teeny tiny particles of slushie for my inebriation. Sliiiiiice. Not a big cut, but a stinging, bleeding one that I shouldn't have given myself.

It's 2 pm, I'm maimed, lamed, and feeling really stupid. I think that means I'm in a perfect mood to finally write up last week's Heroes review for Pink Raygun.
trinityvixen: (dude)
Part of the continuing problem I have with our apartment's anything is that the super, the manager, and anyone they hire to work on the building never believes a word I say. It's worked out to a point where I, returning the favor, no longer believe anything they say.

Case in point: today )

F'list, I ask you: do I have a lying face or something? I know I say a lot of stupid shit, but I don't lie very often. I'm actually not very good at it. So why doesn't anyone believe me when I tell them shit? Is it just because that's not what they want to hear?

Blargh

Oct. 19th, 2008 08:25 pm
trinityvixen: (bored)
The super spent all day fixing a leaking pipe in our shower and then repairing the tile that he ripped out. And guess who got to sit and wait to let him in and out?

I did get to have two inordinately long phone conversations with my mother and sister. Oh, and I got my Smallville review up at Pink Raygun. And finished the third season of Prison Break. And reported a broken disc to Netflix.

In other words: SO BORED.
trinityvixen: (kitteh!)


Awesome.

****


Kitty fountain is in and working. So far. Kitties are having too much fun playing with it to drink much from it. But Wally's gotten a hang on this eating food thing! I think! Maybe!
trinityvixen: (Default)
-While the Indiana Jones-themed Pinchbottom burlesque was not the greatest (truly, it was worthy of the trademark declaration that it was a flimsy premise for striptease), Johnny Porkpie's number was funny enough to kill--both in and of itself and for the tribute to the subject matter. Well done barely dressed ladies (and man)!

-[livejournal.com profile] dotsomething, whom I saw for the first time in far too long this Saturday, has issued a challenge to me to identify her in Iron Man fandom. Apparently, she has noticed me reviewing stuff (I'm being good, I swear to Christ, I'm not on a bad-fic tear again), and this means she's looking around and participating, too. If you know of her super secret identity, please, do not tell me. I shall have to work about discovering it on my own. MYSTERY!

-Get Smart was very fun. It provoked a lot more belly-laugh hilarity than I anticipated given some of the reviews. I still don't think they should make a sequel. Steve Carell was brilliant, the movie was enjoyable, but he deserves better. His timing is flawless, don't get me wrong, but he shouldn't be hamstringed into a nostalgia comedy. Let him do his own characters more. If you've not seen Dan in Real Life, remedy this. He's wonderful in it, even if it's not The 40 Year-Old Virgin humor. He's actually mega-talented at heartbreak humor. And go see Get Smart in moderation so it makes money and they keep employing him forever but not so much that they are tempted to make another. (I just don't trust that the fun would survive a sequel.)

-[livejournal.com profile] darkling1 is in! [livejournal.com profile] moonlightalice and [livejournal.com profile] wellgull assisted him and movers getting his stuff into the apartment Sunday and it only took two hours and they beat the downpour. Amazing. We've spent most of the day rearranging to the best of our abilities. The office is going to take more work, but a surplus mattress and bed set needs taking care of before that's ready. I busied myself rearranging the kitty room, which is now the multipurpose room as it will contain my desk and the elliptical machine.

-Season Two Venture Bros is still made of win.

-The more I think about the responses to this post, the more I think I need to watch all the movies that people said were the worst of the worst and find some way to determine the worst-worst-worst. I'm reluctant only because I would have to include my personal vote for worst-worst-worst, Ang Lee's The Hulk (like anyone had forgotten after my ranting) in the watch pile to be fair. And that's pretty much a deal-breaker for me. It's easier to watch something reputedly bad because I won't have seen it so at least there's a possibility of surprise. The only thing that could surprise me about The Hulk is if the DVD spontaneously combusted in mid-play. Perhaps I will shamelessly copy [livejournal.com profile] glvalentine's "Bad Taste Theater" and relive an experience I wouldn't subject Hitler to using snark to deflect the evil for you all. AREN'T YOU GLAD?
trinityvixen: (squee)
I won't apologize for it: I thought The Incredible Hulk was a lot of fun. Worth your time at a matinee if you can make it! (No spoilers, promise.) )

In other news, I hired cleaners for today who ended up being an hour late. So I can't stay the whole time they are here and I'm running back to work and then back home again to pay them and let them out. I'm not happy about it, but I'm more sanguine than I was this morning. They seem nice and didn't mind taking some direction from me. (I asked them to do the kitty room first so I could pen the cats up when I went to work.)

Being home meant I could let in the inspector, the manager, and the super. They looked at things. Asked me a couple of questions. Nothing serious. At one point, shortly after the inspector asked me about mice, I thought I caught the manager saying that "you should clean," re: our messy place, but I think what he said was that "we keep it clean" because the next thing he said was "there are no mice." I suppose he was talking about the building. I let it go only because I knew myself to be in a bad mood and didn't need to push it.

When the inspector asked if there were any problems, I mentioned the window in the living room that didn't open. (Sorry, [livejournal.com profile] feiran, but I wasn't sure if yours was okay or not.) The Super gave me some kind of look over his shoulder and the manager threw him at the problem. Clearly, they didn't want a bad review to go down or anything. I didn't intend to get anyone in trouble, but if he was trying to give me a panicked, kill-it-with-the-problems-why-don't-you? gesture, I didn't give it any attention. The window didn't open, and for the first time ever that he's been around, I was at leisure to insist he fix it. He did and dragged both the others back to look at it. I'm sorry if that makes him look poorly, but honestly, I don't think it was so bad a thing that it should have done. So there :P

And now the cleaning ladies are here, and I'm about to head out to work. Tra-la!
trinityvixen: (Doom)
Reading a poll about TV, I just remembered having a dream last night about watching commercials for the CW's Thursday night. (Yes, it was that exciting.) Somehow, they wedged another show inbetween Smallville and Supernatural. I was annoyed by this as it meant having to watch Supernatural at 10, which wouldn't give me much time to write my Smallville review for Pink Raygun (since I'd almost certainly squander the hour between shows on nothing) before I would need to sleep.

I realize, now, that dream-me wanted to watch Supernatural. This is why I know it was a nightmare.

(I'm kidding. At least I know why I dreamt about Supernatural. If you go to this thread at TWoP, there's a bunch of "motivational" posters, and the Supernatural fangirls outnumber all the other fangirls combined, I swear. I've been flipping through the archive--holy JESUS there are 1000 pages (literally!)--for the past few days now.)

*

Hey, what all costumes did people see last night? I saw a shark at 34th street, Maleficent at 42nd street and rode all the way to 125th on the A with a Jedi. All were actually stellar costumes (especially the Jedi, but I'm biased; also, people who are Star Wars geeks are like mad prepared for Halloween 365 days of the year anyway).

*

ETA: WE HAVE HEAT ON IN THE APARTMENT. Of course, we have heat on a day when it's really not all that bad to do without, but I'll be happy to have it tomorrow, looks like.

Icky!

Aug. 1st, 2007 01:35 pm
trinityvixen: (horror)
So I decided to clean up a bit last night. Actually, a lot. Having [livejournal.com profile] cagexxx over for the past few days, we've accumulated a bunch of OJ boxes--not to say these are the worst, not when we've got just as many 2L of Diet Pepsi in the recycling, just that it's the straw that breaks me into finally taking out garbage and recycling (you know, after the tower on the can looks perilously close to toppling).

While I was at it, I figured I'd scoop the kitty litters, since no one had in a while. I started to sift clumps when I noticed that the clump of litter-caked poo was still moving even after all the dry litter had run through the scoop.

Long story short: THERE WERE MAGGOTS IN THE LITTER

So gross. I immediately dumped all the litter in both boxes because if the one was a crawling nightmare of HORROR, the other probably couldn't be too far behind. [livejournal.com profile] cagexxx and David K (whom I've not seen in soooo long) were kind enough to actually take the shit down to the basement. I dunno that I could have even risked dragging that heavy-ass bag of litter and having it spill open. I would have just screamed and screamed and screamed.

Trinity? SHE DOES NOT LIKE MAGGOTS. She does not, precious. She does not like creepy, crawly, squishy, slimy bugs. Never have. Give me a fly, and I'll sooner kiss it than hold a jar that has its little worm babies in it. Seriously. This is all to do, methinks, with the time that my friend got a turtle, and her aunt (who has a farm), scooped her out a bunch of mealworms into a jar from a container (filled with kitty litter, funnily enough) she kept in her fridge in order to feed the new pet. This "friend" being who she was at the time, gave me the open jar (no lid! NO LID!!!) to hold on the car ride back while she cooed over her turtle and otherwise generally ignored me. I was fine until the little stiff bugs started to wriggle around. Only the fact that I froze before I freaked out kept me from throwing the jar out of my lap. NO ONE TOLD ME THEY WERE STILL ALIVE!!! WHY DIDN'T ANYONE SAY THEY WERE ALIVE AND JUST FROZEN!?!?!

And, of course, there was the time I got back from a tennis lesson and felt something scratchy on my neck and I reached to itch it and came back with something squishy WHICH WAS ONLY HALF OF AN ENORMOUS GREEN CREEPY CRAWLY OF SOME KIND THAT WAS STILL MOVING OMG WHY THE FUCK DO THESE THINGS FIND ME!?!?!

::pant pant wheeze wheeze::

I guess I can just count myself "lucky" that I found the bugs before they hatched into flies. Because I'm not happy about the four-five-twenty buzzing around our apartment now (nor do I care for their ability to avoid the fly paper I've strung up EVERYWHERE). If one third of those maggots had turned into flies, we'd have had an infestation that would be incompatible with sanity.
trinityvixen: (somuchlove)
Instead of updating about family such-and-such, I decided to do memes. I'm still working away at the LJ posts in the past week, but I'm getting through many more as a result of being stuck at home waiting on the electrician. I could leave it to [livejournal.com profile] feiran but it's my room's lights being worked on, so I'm staying nearby. Plus, I've dealt with these guys all along. I should maintain that. I can get done what absolutely must be done at work today in a few hours and I will leave the rest to next week where I will work my buns off and otherwise ignore the kid there.

Anyway, enough. Onto memes!

I ARE A KITTY! )

And from [livejournal.com profile] viridian: The deal is this: If you are involved in fandom at all, whether you're creating or just reading/viewing, in your livejournal you must post (under a cut if you wish) a SECRET. Preferably something you wouldn't normally admit, and definitely something fandom related.

I CAN HAS SECRETZ? )

And now I finish that meme, I find it did not require me to have five things to write about fandom, that was just what [livejournal.com profile] viridian did. Oh well. Have at it!
trinityvixen: (dude)
I AM ALIVE!

After celebrating a birthday and a baptism last weekend, I went to my parents' upstate house with two of my sisters, my brother-in-law, my niece/goddaughter, my mother, and my grandmother. My god, did I need that decompression. I'm still like more tired than I was prior to leaving, but this is a different kind of tired. This is staying-up-all-night-having-fun tired and playing-with-an-adorable-baby tired and shopping-and-watching-movies-until-the-wee-hours-of-the-morning tired. These are acceptable forms of tired. When I wake up in six hours to let the electrician work on my room (::crossing fingers now::), I will be the unpleasant, less-good tired-because-I'm-up-early-for-maintenance-and-work tired. Then comes Harry Potter until midnight. Oh the craziness.

I want to post some more about the baby and family and friends and the wonderful weekend I had with kidnappings and kidlets, but it's two in the morning, I'm a tad congested, and I'm super-tired already. I've managed to tab-open a thousand posts in LJ about now (I think I got as far back as 100-120 posts when I was only away from a computer for about five days), and that's as far as I'm getting without sleep. Never fear! I shall be checking in with them and hopefully addressing them, one and all, in the next, say, week??
trinityvixen: (cock)
I am so close--so close--to getting the fucking lights in my bedroom fixed, but things keep getting cocked up. First, the super comes and thinks that he magically fixes it by moving the fixture around. It works until I put a bulb in. Then the electrician comes, diagnoses the problem but can do naught about it because lines are buried in the wall. The electrician comes back months later to fix another lighting problem and talks to the building manager to sort this nonsense out.

Then they come this morning and, apparently, I hear neither door knocking nor bell ringing (our bell sucks, and my bedroom is far from the door and the fan was on). And no one tried to call me despite the fact that they have my number on file many a time now.

In short, I am with Ash on this one: Oh cock.

Here's hoping next Friday goes better ::grumbles::

*

In other news, I got past the horrible slog of a two-parter FROM HELL of the third season of Doctor Who. I thought the accent that one bitch had in Disaster Zone: Volcano in New York was bad? Try listening to Jo from Spooks do a New Yawk accent for two hours. OH MY FREAKIN' EARS! But really, didn't they cover the whole Dalek-purity-thing in "Dalek" two seasons ago? And better? Sheesh.

I watched "The Lazarus Experiment" last night while wrapping my niece's present for her baptism (I just have to hope the certificate for planting those trees in her name got to my house upstate in time). I give up on titles. I mean, it's not like Doctor Who doesn't have, well, a thing about titles. As in they must be utilitarian and self-explanatory, but it felt like (to me) season one had some mystery or sense of metaphor to it, and so did season two. "The Lazarus Experiment" is right with tradition, I suppose--it fits right besides such wonderfully dense and obvious titles as "The Ark in Space."

Episode was still terrible. I don't think there are spoilers, but you better believe there's a rant here. )

Sigh. Well, I just needed to watch a bit more so that, hopefully, when I get home, my younger sister, who has episodes past where I've watched, won't be able to spoil me. I don't think she's watched further than me, though. She probably didn't do any better with "Evolution of the Daleks" than I did.
trinityvixen: (fucky)
Scooter's not getting any jail time. Paris Hilton did more time than he for her first trip to the pokey. She probably paid more in fines, too. Please, someone grow a pair and impeach Bush already?

*

I feel defeated by my apartment. Being the only one here for any significant time last week (one roommate never being around, the other being elsewhere occupied and lodged), I figured I should just take out the garbages and such. I was in such a weary mood, I was perfectly resigned to a bunch of chores, so I did that and the dishes and scooping litters, and what not. I also changed the two lightbulbs that had been burnt out for a while in the hall and living room. I was a bit worried about putting in a 75 Watt bulb in the hallway, since the electrician who came a dog's age ago said I ought to use only 60W, but I figure we so rarely use that light, it'll be okay. I put the sole remaining 60W bulb in the living room fixture, then I settled in with a) painkillers for the headache, and b) soda (for much the same reason; caffeine withdrawal = not my friend) and treated myself to an episode of Doctor Who.

The episode ended. The light bulb popped. The new one. I just...I just wanted to cry. The wiring in this place defeats me. When the electrician came, he indicated that what he thought was the root problem of us burning through light bulbs so quickly was that there was some heat-absorbing/resistant/insulating material missing from the fixture in the living room. He also said that because we were using 75W bulbs, they were getting hotter and thus popping faster. I switched to 60W bulbs and hoped that would be the end of it. Then this bulb popped no more than two months after the electrician came and I wondered. Then its replacement popped, and I knew this wasn't fixed.

I called the building manager immediately instead of doing a run-around through the management company or the perfectly useless (for this purpose) super. He was very nice about it, but he wouldn't sit and take the call at 8 pm. So I have to call back tomorrow during business hours. I hung up, agreed to do so, and just collapsed, ready to bawl my eyes out for no reason other than I thought I'd made a bunch of progress on stuff tonight and one fucking light bulb utterly vanquished me. Again.

*

Doctor Who, by the by, was dreadful. New York accents are bad enough where you find them. Doing bad New York accents should be a crime punishable by death. Plus "Daleks in Manhattan" really takes all the mystery out of the episode, thanks. I'm usually jovially blind enough to the obvious that I never know what's going to happen in an episode of this show, but I spent the entire time wanting to smack the Doctor, Martha, and anyone else who spoke--mostly for their accents, but also because they were all so stupid. Episode is called "Daleks in Manhattan," and I'm supposed to have any suspense as to what creature the Doctor will--eventually, with much time lapsing--discover to be behind the recent shenanigans? Please. Concepts other than the not-surprise villain were okay, but the dialogue could cause a statue to roll its pupil-less eyes.

I made a plan, now that the third new season is over in the UK, to stretch out the season that I'm backlogged on so I don't spend all summer and fall waiting for Christmas like I did last year. I heard this season got really good towards the end, too, which is why I'm picking it up again and trying to slog through the crap to get there. But the crap is so bad--"Love & Monsters" bad; "Fear Her" bad--that I don't think I'm going to have any difficulty taking my time with this. Which is amazing considering that I got through all of the second season in one and a half days. And the show is suffering for the utter lack of chemistry between the Doctor and Martha. Out of nowhere, random side heroine decides that she sees Martha making googly eyes at the Doctor. I think Mickey made for more convincing googly eyeing, 'cause I sure ain't seen any of the like from Martha. Certainly nothing like ANY OTHER SINGLE COMPANION I'VE EVER SEEN (including those from Classic Who). She doesn't have visible emotions that I've seen. She smiles and goes, "ooh this is keen!" Or she doesn't. It shouldn't be that a pop-star-turned-actress can show this girl up, but she is no Billie Piper.

There was one thing to be salvaged from the travesty of that "I know you loooooooove him!" conversation though. Martha denies that the Doctor would ever be hers, and the random side heroine goes, "I shoulda realized: he's into musical theater, huh? What a waste."

Never let it be said those Brits can't be clever with a euphemism :)
trinityvixen: (bear)
I feel so productive for no good reason. It's because it's really procrastination (productination!). I'm purposefully just NOT writing that last paper for class. I've decided to make it as bullshitty as I want. I spent a good two-three hours total researching a few quotes from a couple of books to supplement my thesis, and then I'm just writing about movies for the rest of it. Good enough for me.

The super came by this morning. He was saved from MURDERATION only by sleep deprivation and apartment-related shopping. )

Sleep deprivation happened because I got home at like 5 am this morning. I stayed up most of the night with [livejournal.com profile] kent_allard_jr, [livejournal.com profile] moonlightalice (who is the Devil, by the way), and [livejournal.com profile] wellgull watching Die Hard and Die Hard 2: Die Harder. Die Hard is fucking awesome still. I'd never seen Die Hard 2, and it turns out I wasn't missing anything. It suffers from Derivative Sequel Syndrome, which is not helped by the fact that everyone is loving on McClane or else really obviously hating him only to come around by movie's end. It made picking out the fake-out good-guy/bad-guy pretty easy. I also figured out how the bad guys were going down fifteen minutes before it happened. I more look forward to Die Hard with a Vengeance for the umpteenth time. At least that one was genuinely funny, even if it, too, was retread of the first movie.

How did I come to be watching all the Die Hard movies? Uh...

I...I was weak, my friends. I discovered, while cleaning up a bit in my room, that I had some Best Buy bucks I hadn't used up. This is the most dangerous discovery since the nuclear fusion bomb. For me, anyway. Because my already nonexistent willpower was overcome, and I went and got myself Animaniacs Vol 3, which was on sale. And Office Space (which I bought another copy of for my Dad's belated Father's Day present; and now I get a $5 gift card and I am in more trouble). And, and this is why [livejournal.com profile] moonlightalice is THE DEVIL, I got the Die Hard collection. I like the first and third one enough to own both, and the set was cheaper than buying them apart. I also now have another "free" ticket to see Live Free or Die Hard, which means it really will only cost me $3 to see the movie. So that's a good deal, even if I shouldn't have gone and spent EVEN MORE MONEY on DVDs like I just did. Sigh. Will power. MUST LOOK INTO GETTING SOME.

Fortunately, perusing my DVD collection after having gotten back most of what I loaned to the [livejournal.com profile] moonlightalice/[livejournal.com profile] wellgull household, I don't have quite 200 DVDs. This is a relief. Oh, but speaking of DVDs--[livejournal.com profile] wellgull has told me that he doesn't have movie I swore I loaned to him, so would anyone else remember me loaning them The Bourne Identity/Supremacy and Batman Begins?

La la la

Jun. 19th, 2007 12:22 am
trinityvixen: (alucard)
Happy Birthday to the lovely [livejournal.com profile] ivy03! I am daily glad you are my good friend what makes with the co-squeeing and wonder over stuffs. I predict the future will only see further enmeshing of our shared interests, which should be alternately pretty awesome and very terrifying. Anyway, happy happy birthday! I look forward to toasting your good health in person at a later date.

*

LADIES AND GENTLEMEN: WE HAVE US A RORSCHACH!

Well, his IMDB profile is hardly hopeful (he seems to have stopped working for some thirteen years after a none-too-productive career with such high points as Profit of Evil: The Ervil LeBaron Story before his hiatus). However, he is not Keanu Reeves; he is not a thirty-year-old who'll be aged up for the role; and, honestly, he's pretty funny looking, which is perfect. He was also nominated for an Oscar last year. I have now bumped Little Children up the queue at Netflix. When I know more, so shall the rest of y'all.

*

Tried to watch Ran, failed. It's like three hours long, and I just got back from Fantastic Four: The Rise of the Silver Surfer (more on that at a later point), so I'm tired of movies (!). Too tired to watch a three-hour adaptation of King Lear anyway. I hate Lear. I really do. The fact that the stupid youngest daughter doesn't just suck up to her dad bugs the shit out of me. In Ran, at least, the youngest son who loses favor with his war-lord father has a good point about his reasons for not sucking up: basically, daddy raised himself three little war-lord juniors and he should know better than to expect loyalty and filial piety from them as a result. There, at least, I can agree. Still, not interested, not for all that it had swords standing in for phalli all over the place. Oh well. I might do better with Rashomon or Seven Samurai if I want to expose myself to more Kurosawa.

*

Toilet may be fixed...by me! I gave on trying to get the super in to look at the damned thing. We called him all weekend, and I harassed his daughter in the basement and she could only, helpfully, tell me that she had no idea when he'd be around. I took a screwdriver to the bolt that seems to have the leak and I think it's fixed (or, at least, leaking less). I'm still going to want him to look at it, but at least the thing won't flood the place while I wait three years for this guy. Now all I need to do is buy a new bathmat.

I'll give him a chance to look at the toilet, see if he can fix it for good. If not, I call the management company and complain. I need to call them anyway about what the electrician told me about the light fixtures. Sigh.
trinityvixen: (mad scientist)
With the bitter cold having set in, I come to realize that my heater in my room is well and truly fucked. It used to be really hot at night when it would go off and chilly in the morning, but now it's just cold all the time. I went down to the basement this morning to write up the complaint on the Super's board, and if he comes up to our place, I'll also tackle him into fixing the perpetually running toilet and the two broken lights in my room (he fixed both before, but the toilet started running again and the sockets have been popping bulbs the two times I actually tried to use them).

I am going to Florida this weekend, and it had better be friggin' warm.
trinityvixen: (wtf)
You know what my priorities for season premieres are when I tell you I had the most stupid/strange dream about Battlestar Galactica that nonetheless managed to work me up something fierce. No spoilers, just stupidity on TV's part. )

*****


[livejournal.com profile] feiran and I watched the first two episodes of Carnivale last night, and man, is that show fucked up. I like that you can't quite figure the polarity of good and evil in the two guys with strange powers (they've both done something good and fucked something up royal). Not all that much has even happened; there's a lot of setup that's fairly standard (the blind guy, who I keep calling Sydney because that was his character on The Pretender, is the "wooooo eeeeevil" warn-y guy and bugs me a bit because everyone else is less melodramatic). You know the show is effective when it makes me afraid to ask: "Who is Management?"

Don't understand a single thing going on with this show, though. It's hard to recognize anyone for me because many of the carnies look fairly similar--the ladies especially, as there's about three or four of them with the same hairdo and similar enough body type running around and they get more play than the two or three guys who look somewhat alike. Nick Stahl is pretty good at playing dumbass yet proud, which is important, as his character has been brow-beaten into thinking he's not special but he knows himself for what he is and won't tolerate being messed with. Likewise the Clancy Motherfucking Brown, who has his convictions--terrifying as they are--and doesn't like to have them pissed on just because they transcend from the normal hippie/happy-go-lucky love of God to the Almighty Divinely Inspired Word of God.

Yeah, I'll be sticking with this one for a bit, see if it delivers. I mean, it's got Clancy Motherfucking Brown in it, so it can't be all that bad, right? ::whistles and ignores Earth 2::

*****


Looks like the building management heard my suggestion about our front hallway to our apartment building. They recently replaced the doorframe downstairs from a metal bottomed, glass-topped door with just metal on the sides of it to being a brushed metal door with windows throughout and windows lining the door all around on the wall. It looks great, but a tad out of place next to the plaster walls and metal borders in front of plexiglass sheets that make up the rest of the wall.

Come eight this morning, shortly after I got woken up by the cats pulling down the living room curtain again, there was this pounding noise, and when I came down to leave for work, a guy was knocking out the plaster below the windows and the plexiglass had been removed. I look foward to seeing what goes up there instead. They've had surprisingly good taste with renovations so far.
trinityvixen: (Doom)
Kitten has muchly improved. Kitty baby (almost) allllllll better )

Oscar's doing better hasn't changed my plan to spoil him and Wally rotten by giving them human-approved tuna in the evenings--I pretty much have to let them finish the can I opened because Wally stuck his paws into it (and, much as I love the darling, I'm not eating the tuna that his dirty paws have been bathing in).

My feet are sore because I cleaned for hours last night )

And this is how Trinity is decorating/living this week )

What couldn't be taken care of, I pushed against the wall, and it rather nicely doesn't stick out beyond the end of my dresser-bookcase set, so it doesn't look too much like crap I piled in a corner because I ran out of hours to clean (I went to bed at 2:30 am). Man, do I wish life were more like Animal Crossing sometimes. I could just pocket my inconveniently large box-o-crap instead of having to go through it to weed out junk. I'm also so exhausted that I was late to work because I couldn't get out of bed (I have a ten-minute walk for a commute; there's no reason I should ever be late to work).

The apartment is looking more put together than ever, though, so it's worth it. theKathy said I had a grown-up room because my desk wasn't in it (as opposed to dorm-style living where a desk is always in your bedroom), and now I feel like we've finally got a grown-up apartment. It's partly due to the size of our space--it's so huge that it feels like a house whenever I've got to clean it--and partly to the actual furniture occupying the space. There's a real couch, with recliners around it in the living room, and a whopper of a TV with a DVD cabinet (not just racks! Amazing!) holding all the components next to it. We have a table--okay, it's [livejournal.com profile] darkling1's table, but it's a real table and not just a picnic table we keep indoors. There are curtains! Enough curtains to go around the place and back again!

More than that, there are extra rooms--rooms that aren't bedrooms (or strictly functional rooms like the kitchen and bathroom). There's a separate kitchen! An office! Closets in the hallway! Hallways! Like I said to my roommates when we first moved in: you have to go places to find people sometimes (not often, since now as ever we tend to congregate in the living room)! That makes it like a home even more--you can be off by yourself but not secluded in your room. It seems friendlier that way, like you're just in the other room because you are not because you need to be in your space. It's all come together so nicely.

Now, all I have to do is tackle the problems that are a) being ignored (half the lights in my room not working) or b) not being fixed because the repair folk conveniently come whenever we're not able to receive them (or, as Liz-roommate told me, not actually knocking to announce themselves despite our sign, like the guy who was supposed to fix the doorbell did). I actually ran into our realtor on my way out after lunch yesterday, and he said the management company mailed him our copy of the lease, so he's going to mail it to us. That was good; I keep forgetting to call him about it, so I forgive him for getting it weeks ago and not yet mailing it. If we don't have our copy by August, then I'll scream at him.
trinityvixen: (Default)
Stupid apartment. Just when you think you're getting the upper hand, it bitch slaps you with a surprise left.

My new plan for graduated settling in has been to start doing dishes and then putting them away. I usually try to do some in the morning, put those away at lunchtime when I come home, and then do more that I put away when I get off work. This has had obvious results, as we now have all plates, bowls, and utensils in cabinets and drawers. I have to find all the pieces that belong in the kitchen, then give them a rinse and that's it. I even started to cart down the recycling (a lot of Diet Pepsi bottles, mostly) and the boxes that were emptied as a result. And I grabbed the garbage while I was at it.

Then I noticed that water was leaked out in a pool behind the garbage can and fridge. When [livejournal.com profile] feiran and I called the super, I heard her telling him on the phone that, no, it wasn't because of the freak rainstorm. Freak showers do not create puddles six feet from a window. Pipes with leaks might though. If the leak is behind the cabinets, that would undo most of my dish-settling work.

Plus, I got up super early to cover the first two hours of waiting for the cable guy, and the super was supposed to come between 9 and 10 as well. Surprise surprise, I left for work, no super. This is after yesterday when I was on my way home for lunch and I called to see if he could come up to see the shower and toilet, and had to repeatedly state that I would be there in minutes. I called three times in the space of an hour, until finally I got the super himself (I was calling his house, but his daughter-in-law handles calls, apparently) telling me that, no, contrary to what she'd been telling me, he wasn't imminently on his way, he'd be there tomorrow morning--this morning. You know, the one where he wasn't there.

All I need is for the cable guy to flake, too, and this will be a perfect start to my weekend. Just perfect.
trinityvixen: (Default)
We got (even more!) furniture into the apartment this Sunday.Two very tempting chairs and a real couch! Oh my! )

I should revise my statement to [livejournal.com profile] bigscary: I don't think our place is bigger than yours (nor so convinient to get to), but it's defnitely comparable of size. Plus, I can also guarantee our chairs are more comfortable and less likely to fall apart. Even the vibrating one.

Thanks be to the sweetheart team of [livejournal.com profile] jethrien and [livejournal.com profile] chuckro for their kind offer of making us real food. We were wiped from getting up early and setting up the furniture. When we eventually let our stomachs wake us from torpor, pizza was good enough. But really, thank you so much for the offer.

In other news, [livejournal.com profile] feiran has given me her cold (I'd point the finger at [livejournal.com profile] bigscary, but I think it was coming on Saturday day-time, so it would already have been festering by the time I met up with him. It might also have come from my boss, but I think she's battling allergies more than anything. So this Monday is a little bluer (and not in the good way) and more miserable than I would have liked to start a new week, but the furniture is in, we'll have a right bang-up kitchen soon, and I'm just about ready to say goodbye to the old place.

Of course, the old place has its needs, too. Taking down blinds, cleaning out the fridge, carting my shit back uptown...
trinityvixen: (Default)
Do you ever feel like just opening up and screaming in a public place?

I need to vent somehow, but I'm so exhausted that I'm just pocketing frustration.

I do like our new apartment. It's large, convenient from my work, and I can spread out my stuff and house it properly at the same time. We're going to have a nice TV, a real couch, counter space in the kitchen, an office (and, when all is arranged, a housewarming).

But the "going to have" part might kill me before I get to the "have" part. It sucks to be me. )

The exhaustion is just the steady wearing down of my soul from dealing with all these issues. I keep having to call, I have zero patience and I think the management is catching on and becoming as tired of our calls as we are of making them. But I'm not doing it to be annoying. If they'd had the place inhabitable by the time we arrived, this would never have been so involved.

On top of that, I'm filling out the empty spaces with furniture from home and other sources, depleting my already diminished funds because neither roommate has the cash to spare (I have something more than nothing, so it's all out of my pocket at this point, and even though I trust they will pay me back their even shares, it's making me very grouchy to be constantly paying out--which is made worse by the fact that not having the kitchen set up means we have to spend money on food all the fucking time).

Worse still, I have yet to fully adjust to sleeping with windows facing the street and the level of noise in our neighborhood. I wish I worked nights or something because every time I go home for lunch (usually bringing some with for [livejournal.com profile] feiran because she either can't leave because she's waiting for someone or another to show up and fix something or else because she's been sick recently), the street is empty and quiet. Middle of the day, nothing going on. Late at night: firecrackers, cars with stereos blasting. Earlier than I need to be awake in the morning: car horns, people shouting at windows instead of, you know, fucking buzzing the goddamned apartment where whoever the fuck they're looking for lives instead of waking up the goddamned fucking neighborhood.

I don't fall back asleep easy, so I'm sort of a stumbling mess first thing because I've been woken up at 7 am and then again at 8 am by such noises and I don't need to be up until 9 am to make it the third or a mile or so that I walk to work. I could try adjusting my sleep schedule and just starting my day earlier (which is a huge concession as I am the world's worst night owl) and going to bed earlier, too, but I don't know if I can arrange my tiredness schedule so perfectly. I get tired in the evening about 10 pm, which is too soon for even a 7 am wake up, and really, I do not want to be awake for three hours before I get to work--that would just make workdays seem even longer, and I've got looooong days as it is. By the time I've gotten a second wind, I'm up until 1:30-2 am.

Fucking hell, I'm tired.

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