Sludge.

Terrence recently discovered flushing things down the toilet.  And I’m most likely going to kill him any day now.  In case anyone needs a motive to give to the police, here’s why.  Occasionally I flush my unfinished cereal or soup down the toilet and it has always annoyed Terrence for unknown reasons.  I’d ask him why he cared and he’d usually respond, because.  No, that’s not the reason he must die.  Although responding with, because, is annoying on its own level.

Terrence makes his morning coffee in a french press and has since shortly after we moved in together.  But in those first four years of living together we had a garbage disposal, which is one of the best inventions of all time.  We also had a spray hose attachment for our sink, which I’ve had my whole life and never understood just how essential one of these was until we moved here.  Now we don’t have either, which makes kitchen sink clean up nearly intolerable.  Without these things Terrence is forced to clean up the sink manually, a skill he’s yet to comprehend.  He constantly leaves food in the drain trap and doesn’t bother to clean it out.  I’m not sure that he never cleans it out, but I’ve never seen it clean unless I know I did it.  Boys are gross.

Terrence recently discovered the solution to making his morning coffee with minimal, if any, clean up.  He’s begun flushing his coffee grinds down the toilet.  The very same toilet that my cereal is prohibited from entering.  Now my toilet is in a constant state of blackness.  It’s awful and it pisses me off.  A few times a week now I have to spray down the bowl with bleach cleaners and wipe around the edges with clorox wipes.  I asked him to stop flushing this sludge down the toilet and he refused.  I asked if he’d at least clean up after his black mess, he refused that too.

Finally, I asked what our guests would think when they unsuspectingly went to use our bathroom and found our toilet covered in black.  He replied that they’d assume we flush our coffee grinds and get over it.  Grr…

Humble.

To some of you these stairs may not look intimidating, but for Terrence and I, they’re horrifying.  Lurking all through this path from our back door to our car, Terrence’s parents house, and the street in which we walk Dutch, are scary spiderwebs.  Whether the prospect of walking through a few spiderwebs may not be terrifying to most of you, you’d have to at least admit it’s not pleasant.

The other night when Terrence was across the street, most likely stealing food from his parents kitchen, I was here blasting music with my friend Amanda.  When I began receiving the following messages from google talk.

Terrence: why do you hate me?

me: huh?
Terrence: i’ve been texting you!
Terrence: save me
Terrence: nevermind i’m walking around front cause you’re a terrible girlfriend
Terrence: terrible!

I was confused.  I also didn’t exactly read the last three IMs until after Terrence stuck his sad little face into the doorway and yelled at me.  The front door was latched so it was very Jack Nicholson of him.  Thankfully Amanda is more than used to my odd boyfriend so she wasn’t fazed.  My phone was in the bedroom so I never got his texts.  He left quite a few urging me to come to the back door and save him.  He asked me to grab a broom and clear a path for him.  Terrence has a serious fear of spiders and was quite upset with me that I hadn’t come to his rescue.  Poor boy.

I suppose this is my life now.  Move above ground and get a face full of web.  Every morning when I leave for work I hold my bag in front of me like a shield against the webs.  Sadly at night when I walk Dutch I have no shield, I just hope for the best and power through Béla Lugosi style.

I’ve been trying to come up with ways to fix this problem.  So far all I can come up with is to cut down these trees, thought I doubt my landlord would support this plan.  I guess all we can do is wait for spider season to be over, oh sweet winter.

You wanna know what comes between me and my Chuck’s? Nothing.

Since I was old enough to dress myself I’ve been in love with Converse’s Chuck Taylor’s.  It began as a high top love and eventually turned into a low top affair.  I used to be able to score 2 pair for $19.99 on 8th street, and eventually that turned to $30 for 2, then $30 for 1.  When Nike bought Converse and the price jumped to nearly $50 for 1 pair, I was seriously sad, but I wouldn’t let that deter me from acquiring a pair here and there.  Although it certainly put a larger pause between new Chuck’s.  One gap was so large that when I went to purchase a new pair the sales associate informed me that Nike had stopped production of half sizes.  Being a perfect size 6 1/2 I was pissed, I couldn’t fit a size 6 or 7 and I was forced to go in search of other shoes.  Bastards.  Every now and then I’d drop into a store at random to check if half sizes were still a memory.  Eventually they began to produce a few in some of the more classic colors, like black or white.  I’ve actually never owned a pair of either, I was always a fan of brighter color combination’s.

One bright shiny day my friend Yudy text messaged me to tell me she saw Chuck’s in half sizes again.  I ran out almost immediately to snag a pair but was disappointed with my find.  I returned home and searched the Converse website to see if I’d have better luck.  And there it was, glorious half sizes!  I was beyond elated.  I called my mother asap and exclaimed to her that I had already tossed a few pairs in my shopping cart, but I couldn’t rationalize spending all that money on sneakers.  I left the website open to my cart for weeks, petting the screen from time to time.  Until one day when I glanced over for a quick stroke and noticed an über sale and could resist no longer.

Behold, the tri-force of Chuck’s!  I’m kind of afraid to wear them. They’re just so pretty!  I’m very glad to have my Chuck Taylor’s back, but I must admit the fear of losing them is still lingering.  I kind of feel like I have to buy one of every color.  But I won’t.

For now… ish.

Currently Listening to: Reflection Eternal‘s Revolutions Per Minute.

In lieu of my own children.

I never wanted to be a godparent.  Firstly, because I don’t believe in God and secondly, because I was never up for the responsibility.  But shortly after meeting my niece, Riley Izabella, I felt a little bond to her.  Mostly because she reminds me so much of my grandmother, which instantly made her my favorite little Garcia.  So when my brother Paul approached me with the task, who was I to say no.  I actually don’t even mind the responsibility.  I already got her a book for turning 6 months and I fully intend to keep her stocked in good music.  I feel as though that’s all I really have to be concerned with for now.  Make sure that all presents are books and mp3’s, check.  Perhaps I’ll throw in a toy here and there, but I’m sure everyone else will more than take care of that.  It may be years before she appreciates my nerd gifts, but as long as she’s hanging with me, I’m sure that it won’t be long before she fully grasps the awesomeness of being a geek.

Yesterday I spent my first nearly full day with her.  I fed her for the first time and she passed out within seconds.  I witnessed my first bath time (or sink time).  I heard her speak, a lot of Da da da’s and Ba ba ba’s.  Very advanced language for a 7  month old.  I promised my brother I wouldn’t post a ton of pictures of his kid all over the facebook and other such sites, so you guys can’t see the full million photos I took yesterday.  Here’s a little sneak peak though.

Fecking adorable! I’m already working on a mix for her first year of life.  She needs to hear what was happening, minus the Bieber.  First track off Riley’s birth year mix (Month, October): Sleigh Bells – Crown on the ground.

Vodpod videos no longer available.

AMEX, A Love Story.

I’ve set a goal in motion, this one isn’t a life list goal, it’s a get my father off my back goal.  Thanks to the beautiful new credit card laws you have to be 21 to obtain a credit card.  Now if only that were the case when I was 19 and my father helped me get my first card, an American Express Blue card.  The first thing I bought with it was a computer, that cost $1900-ish, completely not worth it.  When I was turning 21 I decided that since I never had a lavished sweet sixteen or a Quinceanera (as my mother would have preferred) I would throw a fantastic sweet 21 instead.  It wasn’t in a hall or in even a backyard filled with hundreds of guests.  It was a fairly small gathering in my living room.  But for some reason I thought it was a good idea to buy all the liqueur, beer, food and decorations myself.  Anyone know how much 2 dozen bottles of liqueur are?  You don’t want to and hopefully never need to.  Thankfully I still had my trusty AMEX card.  Good job, Ana!

Drunk at my Sweet 21 with Steph

So all of this was a round about way of saying that I have racked up quite a bit of debt on this card.  I believe around the time I was cut off from using it was was tipping over 3k with a 12k limit.  For the last 4 years I’ve been slowly (SLOWLY) chipping away at that balance and getting absolutely nowhere.  But again thanks to my new favorite law, the credit card act, I just learned that paying it the way I’ve been doing meant that in close to 20 years I’d be done. YAY! No? No, yay? No. No, yay.

So two days ago I went to pay double my minimum payment (a new trick I’ve learned to do) and was locked out from the website.  Easy fix though, right.  Just enter in your credit card number.  A number I realized when I moved that I no longer had.  This being a card I haven’t touched in 4 years and all, I wasn’t aware that I was sent a new card or even had a new card out there somewhere.  Since I pay my bills online I throw out all mail from AMEX without opening it, very smart.  (I tried to go paperless but only my father has the power to make those types of acct calls.)

So here I am, locked out and cardless… days way from my due date and no clue what to do.

Today I got up the nerve to call America Express, sans acct number.  I was on the phone with an awesome Southern gentleman and I explained my life story to him.  Blah blah blah, locked out, blah estranged father, blah blah, card in the landfill.  Poor kid was confused but uber polite and helpful.  After speaking to him for quite some time  and verifying that I wasn’t a criminal (which took quite some time considering none of my info is really attached to this card other than my name).  He transferred me to the man that would assist me with my payment (also lovely) and he explained to me all the things that I could not change or control being that I’m the secondary card owner, FUN.

Now that this telephonophobic has been on the phone for a while and speaking to two separate people, both of which I had to give my life back story to.  Thankfully they were super awesome, made me feel kick my shoes off cozy, and I will be looking forward to paying this damned balance off with for years to come.

Oh yea, my goal!  My goal is to pay off the balance of this card within a year.  I hope I can do it.  My back up goal is to at least get the balance down low enough to be able to transfer my balance over to a new card.  One I don’t share with my father and won’t have to hear any grief about.