Friday, October 26, 2012

Frankenstorm Farewell

So in light of all the horrendousness that is headed our way in storm form, aka Hurricane Sandy + arctic cold front + pressure cooker of a thunderstorm. I penned together my farewell letter to my parents in case they haven't heard from me by next Friday... it's probably because I've died, because as you all know, DC during anything remotely involving water, be it rain, mist, or busted water mains, can be dangerous, and to be honest, I might not survive.

So below I've copied and pasted my farewell letter, because - seriously... you should too. 

Dear Parental Units,

I thought I would pen together a brief email about how I will not survive the Frankenstorm that is Hurricane Sandy...

If the rain doesn't cause a bad driver to kill me in a car collision... The wind will probably cause a freak tree limb to hit me in the head inducing partial brain damage and an untimely comatose state.

But, even if I survive the original disaster that is the storm, the crazies in DC are bound to pillage and plunder following the Pepco induced black out that is bound to happen. I shall have to survive in the basement at work, barricaded behind the double locking doors with only the tech guy's mini maglites to see by and giant screwdrivers to protect myself, and because it will be too dangerous to traverse the roads, I will be in a basement, and you know, it is bound to flood, because the news is portraying the storm to be quite intense...

Should I manage to survive the flooding, the district will be under marshal law, because the untold masses will be dying for food and water, since they did not prepare for the cat 1 hurricane, by filling their bathtubs and stocking food you don't have to heat, and instead will start looting store fronts and houses. If this is the case, I should probs not return to my apartment for fear of the horrible looters. Damn those looters...

So I shall have to make do on the first floor of the office, but there will be no food because it's an office and there's a limited supply of people's left overs in the kitchen... and by Friday, with the power still out, people will start to look quite tasty. So I shall resort to good ole fashioned Donner party cannibalism to survive... and trust me... I will survive this cannibalism, because I have all the box cutters and the scissors in the office (I've already stock piled them downstairs - you didn't raise a stupid daughter, I am prepared for the final battle of me versus the people-food).

And after all my struggles to beat the Frankenstorm, it will probably be the ebola or the food poisoning that will do me in, from eating bad left overs or a contaminated person that ate bad left overs.

I just wanted to let you know that I love you, and my future cannibalism in the face of ultimate danger and despair is not in any way a direct correlation of your parenting.

Thursday, September 6, 2012

Why Plucking My Eyebrows Is More Important Than Laundry

I hardly ever do laundry. Not because I like wearing dirty clothes. In fact I hardly wear the same thing twice. My laundry basket *cough* two *cough* laundry baskets and my wardrobe can withstand a 3 month foray into not visiting the laundry room. I don't know what that says about me aside from... girl you have too many clothes... but most days I can survive by just wearing something I don't love... and just wearing something I like.

But today.

This day.

It had to get done.

Because I was going to have a busy weekend of looking at apartments. Working overtime. And watching "For a Good Time Call."

This Movie is Going to Change My Life - I can just FEEEEL it.

The Laundry basket had finally eaten my last pair of good underwear and there are few things more hated in this world than wearing the uncomfortable newer Hanes I had bought a few months ago and promptly only wore once before they were destined to a life in the "UGH-I'm-Not-Wearing-That-Drawer"

So tonight was the night.

I was going to take over the laundry room and be done in 2 hours!

So I thought.

I got home and started opening mail, while on the phone with my Mom. Nothing really exciting, a new debit card, some bills, the usual.

My mom bid me goodnight and I started flinging the remnants of my wardrobe from the past week strewn about my apartment into the laundry basket.

Found my laundry card.

Found the cash to put on the laundry card.

Looked for my laundry room key.

Looked for my laundry room key fob.

Looked for both of them again.

Found - 1 pair of high quality tweezers, which I hadn't been able to find for the last few months in a bag I had been carrying... then.

Squealed in delight and ran to the magnifying mirror on my closet door.

Slammed my foot into the closet door... started profusely bleeding.


It was straight out of a slasher film.

Blood was pouring from my toe.

I cursed loudly leaning on the closet mirror when something caught my eye.

My brows.

They needed a hedge-trimmer.

I looked at my toe.

I looked at my brows.

I looked at my toe.

Bit my bottom lip.

And spent the next 5 mins giving the brows a good once over.

Because a true southern lady knows that if the paramedics have to come to your apartment to save you from a detached toe... you want to look damn good in case any of them are single for your friends!

My grandmas didn't raise no fool.

Needless to say... my laundry is still undone and now I've dirtied another towel with it wrapped around my foot as I sit with my leg elevated on the couch, because better safe than sorry.

But all of this was suddenly made right when I discovered I could watch the Food Network show, Chopped on Hulu Plus...

I have a sick sense of humor.

Friday, June 29, 2012

Welcome to the District of Y'allumbia

Stay tuned while we come up with more exciting information for you about this new blogging venture!