Archive for July, 2006

Hickory Dickory Dock

My roofmate and I aren’t home very much. When we do come in, we’re usually on our way back out so mail gets tossed on the coffee table, jackets get hung over the dining room chairs, and there’s a lovely pile of shoes near the front door. We’re messy people, but we aren’t dirty. We do dishes, take out the trash, keep food in the cupboards, and sometimes we even vacuum.

So imagine my surprise last night when I leaned from the couch to the coffee table to grab my drink and saw something scurry from underneath our door jamb (gah, the hairs on the back of my neck are raising as I type this) toward the far wall. I screamed…yes, I screamed like a little girl…and I must have scared it because it ran back into the fucking crater under our front door that is apparently usually covered by our doormat. I had no idea it was there.

My roofmate was still at work, so I had to deal with this alone. Deal with it? Right. I squished into a corner of the couch, curled my legs up under me, and proceeded to utterly panic:

There’s a mouse. A dirty poopy mouse. IN OUR HOUSE. Shit Shit Shit. How did it get here? What do I do, what do I DO??? Call roofmate! Yes, that’s it, she’ll come home and then at least I won’t be alone with the mouse that is IN OUR HOUSE. She’s not answering….


A mouse that I’m fervantly hoping is the same mouse comes scurring out of our coat closet on the other side of the room.

*ding dong*

Shit that’s my food. How can I get to the door without my feet touching the ground?

When my roofmate finally got home from work, I had been sitting on the couch with my feet up for approximately 2 hours. I had to pee really badly, but there was a large stretch of mouse infested floor between the couch and the bathroom. I had called emergency maintainance, but they apparently didn’t consider a mouse an emergency. Roofie can be a self-proclaimed bitch on wheels when it comes to stuff like that so she called them back and some poor sad tired man had to come out at 10.30 pm to set up a mouse trap for us. We certainly weren’t going to do it.

Apparently, from what he told us, the building that we live in has been having a “little problem with mice.” And all they can do is trap them when people call. He said he thought someone had probably brought them in on a recent move-in. Oh and they’re going to come out today and fill the gaping chasm leading to hell that is on the inside of our front door jamb.

I’m completely and utterly skeeved out. It’s not the mouse itself that creeps me out, I’ve held mice. But they came out of a cage. I’ve dissected a rat. But it was dead already. But I refuse to co-habit with something that doesn’t use a toilet, is associated with people who leave food in piles on their kitchen floor, carries the Black Plague, and can eat it’s way through a cement door jamb and apparently muscle aside a carpet remant. I’m throwing out EVERY. SINGLE. THING. in our cupboards. Maybe even the dishes.



I hate all my clothes

Yep, it’s about that time of year again. I don’t know if guys go through this, but, for me at least, every August and every (oh, say…) March it’s the same thing. By August I hate all my summer clothes and I fondly remember all the comfy, cozy, fleecy sweaters and such in those magical boxes under my bed. I long for that chilly nip in the air that means I can wear my funny hat with the ear flaps again. And maybe, just maybe, I even miss the snow. This attitude always comes at least 1 to 2 months before sweaters will be a viable clothing option.

Around March–which, along with February, is the most miserable, windy, icy time of year in Southeastern Pennsylvania–I begin to feel like I’ve eaten an entire skein of yarn and if I have to keep my neck, head, arms, hands, and legs covered for one more second I might implode. I want nothing more than to shove all my sweaters in those stupid boxes under my bed and get started on my vast selection of capri pants and wispy shirts.

I’m glad I live in a part of the country that gives me such wonderful seasonal opportunities to bemoan my wardrobe.


The character in the movie was so like him. And the storyline. God, that storyline glued her to her seat and made her want to flee the room at the same time. But no, she hadn’t cried and she wasn’t going to cry. It was done and that was all.

The credits rolled and she rose slowly from the couch and said her goodbyes with the soundtrack still playing in her brain. Though it was pouring, she walked slowly to her car, unable to shake the feeling that she was somehow on the verge of something, the edge of something.

It was about then that the fireworks started. The last hurrah of some summer carnival nearby. That the noise shook her car felt right somehow, like it matched the frequency of her body. She drove away with colors spreading across her field of vision, looking like an impressionst painting through the raindrops. The lump in her throat turned into a sob and the sob turned into a force she couldn’t stop. She cried and drove, her love exploding into pieces in the sky above her, leaving only the smell of gunpowder in the air and a smoky haze under every streetlight.

100 Things; or I Heart Self-Indulgence

Looking around a bit on the blog-o-sphere after reading TJ’s post, I realized that a lot of people, including some friends have done a “100 Things About Me” post. And since the world does, in fact, revolve around me, how could I fail to join in.

So, in no particular (conscious) order:

  1. I’m a fast reader but I often get bored in the middle of a book and switch to a different one.
  2. I’d rather watch a movie I’ve already seen.
  3. I have a strange phobia about making phone calls. When I finally do make a call, if I have to leave a message for the person to call me back, I start to dread their return call.
  4. If I had to work in a blue collar job, I’d like to either learn how to lay cement or make things out of bricks.
  5. I love dogs out of reason but I don’t have one yet.
  6. My father died in 2001.
  7. I’m terrified of losing my mother.
  8. When I was little I mostly played with “boy’s toys” especially any sort of construction set and I liked stuffed animals better than dolls.
  9. I try not to hate anyone.
  10. I really want to find someone who wants to marry me just as I am, where I am (and vice versa).
  11. I wish I didn’t get so attached to people. I think I love too hard.
  12. I like babies, but I’m very uncomfortable around most children. I fear I have no maternal instinct, but I’m facinated with the idea of pregnancy.
  13. I broke my nose in 6th grade while in a speed skating race (on roller skates) by crashing into the back of someone’s head.
  14. Yes, I really do think that people should be interested in this list.
  15. I know what having a panic attack feels like. And it’s awful.
  16. I love all amusment park rides.
  17. I flirt, but I don’t think I’m particularly good at it.
  18. If it wouldn’t be a waste of money, I’d get my Masters in English Literature. I say it would be a waste only because I don’t want to teach.
  19. I get frustrated with people who don’t think as fast as I do. I’m sure that people get frustrated with me for not thinking as fast as they do.)
  20. I talk to myself in the car and in stores.
  21. I miss Austin.
  22. I wish I had a nutritionist and a trainer, I’m horrible at self-motivation and I eat my feelings.
  23. I have 4 nephews, but I don’t know any of them very well.
  24. I’m very much the baby of my immediate family and the only girl. And I act like it–but just around my family.
  25. I was in the 95th percentile for the verbal section of my SATs but only in the 25th in math. I think I have discalculia.
  26. I choose to be alone a lot.
  27. I wish I were a better Christian
  28. Most of the time I think I’m a pretty cool person, yet one who sort of bumbles her way through life.
  29. I don’t feel grown up enough to be almost 30.
  30. I like working with men better than women.
  31. I worry at how selfish some of my thoughts are.
  32. I try not to lie.
  33. However, I’m a good liar when I feel backed into a corner.
  34. I was a virgin until I was 20.
  35. I like public speaking.
  36. I want to live in Boston some day.
  37. With a few exceptions, I don’t watch new TV shows.
  38. I learned how to weld last year, but I haven’t done it since.
  39. I love roadtrips.
  40. I won a fiction writing award from the Greater Lehigh Valley Writers Group when I was in college. I have the story somewhere if anyone is interested.
  41. I don’t try to write to be published because I’m scared I’ll fail.
  42. My college internship was at a magazine called Compressed Air
  43. I imagine scenes from the book Anne of Green Gables to help me fall asleep at night.
  44. I’ve only snuck into one movie ever.
  45. I’ve never seen any of the Godfather movies or Braveheart or Forest Gump or countless other movies that you think I should have seen.
  46. I’m very messy at home, but extremely organized at work.
  47. I like my Windows’ toolbar on the right hand side, not the bottom.
  48. I’ve had a girl crush.
  49. I’ve slept in the same bed as a married man. (But I’ve never seen two people squish further away from each other on the same bed–and we were above the covers.)
  50. There’s still one “bad boy” in my past that I’d probably find hard to resist even though I know he’s not good for me.
  51. I try hard not to repeat mistakes
  52. I don’t dream about my wedding or my wedding dress. If forced, I’d probably say I wanted a big backyard BBQ.
  53. I’m censoring this list.
  54. I usually choose the hard road.
  55. I love to swim, but I’d rather be in a pool than a lake. I don’t like to swim in the ocean.
  56. I’ll kick your ass at Monopoly.
  57. I’d like to think I could kick your ass at Scrabble.
  58. At the end of the day I think of conversations that I had and things I did that day and analyze the heck out of them. Usually to my detriment.
  59. I have no idea what I want to do to leave my mark on the world.
  60. I have become resigned to the fact tha I probably won’t leave my mark on the world.
  61. I avoid politics and discussing politics. I purposely know as little about politics as possible so I can avoid these discussions.
  62. I have had an article published in an online journal.
  63. I have climbed a mountain.
  64. I had a really embarassing experience at an indoor rock climbing gym and I haven’t been to once since, although I really enjoy climbing.
  65. Same for horseback riding.
  66. I hate dating. (But the previous two embarassing experiences did not occur on a date.)
  67. I don’t mind only having a few good friends.
  68. I’ve known my best friend since our senior year in high school and we’ve never had a fight.
  69. I search for father figures, even at 29.
  70. I like to feel small.
  71. I’ve been to England 4 times and France once.
  72. I have a whole box of old letters that I’ll never throw away.
  73. I’m always shocked by what I look like in pictures.
  74. If I won the lottery I’d use my money to outbid developers who bulldoze our farmland here in Bucks County.
  75. I’d probably be more superficial if I could afford it.
  76. I very rarely wear high heels and I always regret it when I do.
  77. I love the woods.
  78. I like all kinds of music, even country.
  79. I’m secretly facinated by any sort of montage where they mix video clips with music.
  80. My life has a constantly evolving soundtrack that I keep in my head.
  81. I used to be a competitive roller skater (jumps, spins, sequined outfits and all) I even have medals.
  82. I’m very competitive in general.
  83. I tend to trust people even though I pretend to be jaded and cynical.
  84. I’m optimistic.
  85. I used to be scared of getting kidnapped and that fear is only buried just under the surface.
  86. I wish I could drive a car with manual transmission.
  87. I like scenes in movies where people are walking in slow motion, they always look so cool.
  88. I like to edit because I like finding other people’s mistakes. I hate it when people find mistakes I missed.
  89. If I could have any job I wanted, I’d like to be a dog trainer.
  90. I think I’m just the right height.
  91. I know what people notice first about me, but I wish it were something different.
  92. I had major surgery when I was around 5 years old.
  93. I have one ureter on my right hand side and two on my left. (You’re supposed to have one on each side.)
  94. If I could trade bodies with anyone it would be Jennifer Lopez.
  95. I like songs with words that read like poetry. I get obsessed when I find one, and play it over and over. I always listen more closely to the words than to the intricacies of the music. (I guess that could be three things but they’re all related.)
  96. I love writing with Sharpies and felt-tip pens.
  97. I’m not really good at anything artistic.
  98. I write in a random mixture of print and cursive, but I never use the cursive lowercase “b” or “z.”
  99. I have had more romantic relationships that started online than those that started any other way.
  100. I’ve never had a nickname that wasn’t a variation on Lori.

Stick that Where?

Let’s talk about bumper stickers. I hate them. Sure sometimes they can have mildly amusing sayings. In fact I’ve often thought about having one made that says “Genius is the cross I bear.” But I still hate them.

I just don’t understand why you’d put stickers on an expensive piece of machinery that, more than likely, you will have to try to convince someone else to buy at some point. I have used a bumper sticker on my car for one reason–to cover up a stupid mistake I made while learning Lori’s Life Lesson #378: “Just because there was no one in the driveway behind your car when you parked it last night, doesn’t mean there is no one behind it this morning. Defrost your back window.”

No one cares where you like to go on vacation, where you had your cat neutered, or what your “other vehicle” is.

Things you stick on your car can fall into various categories:

Stickers with dates on them: They’re really only “cool” the year you got them. Who cares that you went to Marriage Encounter 2003? It’s 2006 and you’re divorced.

A large subcategory of stickers with dates are campaign stickers: You lost. Now what?

Stickers proudly proclaiming your religion: You’d better represent then. No road rage, flipping the bird, or cutting people off in traffic.

Stickers with punny sayings: Is it really that funny? Is it funny more than once? Do you really need a conversation starter on your bumper?

Stickers broadcasting your sexual orientation or your opinion on any sexual orientation: I like my tires full and my car un-keyed, how about you?

Magnetic ribbons: Enough already, huh? The only thing you are supporting is the car magnet manufacturing industry.

So resist the urge. I’m still going to laugh, even if it’s paid for.

It Could Have Been A Great Day

Hey, who knew you could put italics in your post title? Cool!

This morning had all the makings of a wonderful day. Upon arriving at work we had no power (some fierce electrical storms last night), which meant not only were there no lights, computers, servers, air conditioning, and telephones, but also no toilets as we run on a septic system.

We all sat around the lobby waiting for someone with some authority to tell us to go home, which happened an hour after I had gotten there. We all left with that lighthearted feeling that only an unexpected paid day off can provide–the electric company had said they’d have the power up around 8 p.m.

I got home around 9.30 a.m.

They called us back in at 10.30 a.m.

So here I am. There’s no airconditioning upstairs where my office is. There’s no voice mail. And none of the engineers came back in.

So, yeah, it could have been a great day. But it wasn’t.

I like this quote from Colette

Colette was kind of…controversial, and I don’t know the particular context of this quote, but I still like it:

“I love my past. I love my present. I’m not ashamed of what I’ve had, and I’m not sad because I have it no longer.”

I’m not sure if I can claim any one of those things. Can you? Should we be able to?


A blog about my life and other stuff.

Oh, life is a glorious cycle of song,
A medley of extemporanea;
And love is a thing that can never go wrong;
And I am Marie of Romania.

Dorothy Parker, Not So Deep as a Well (1937)