I’m sorry to do this

Yesterday was one of those days when I got fired up. Like, stuff happened that was so dumb I couldn’t stop complaining about it and feeling self-righteous and annoyed and wronged. I got myself worked up into a “Seriously?! Are you kidding me with this? You really just said that? Ridiculous!” tizzy.

I was getting riled up about two things: work, and Gossip Girl. I was in a State after work and thought a bubble bath plus guilty pleasure tv might make me feel more relaxed, but then this week’s episode of Gossip Girl turned out to be maybe the worst 42 minutes of television I have ever watched.

I don’t care to put much of anything on the internet about my job (I love my job, this was just random ridiculousness). I’m going to channel all of my ire from work silliness and my exasperation at this tv show into a list of things that were utterly stupid and ridiculous about this week’s episode of Gossip Girl. I’m sorry. Move along. It’s fine.

  • The previews/commercials all showed scenes from the hospital, the immediate aftermath of the car accident. So why was the ENTIRE episode set a few months (weeks?) later? I kept thinking I had missed an episode.
  • The opening scene I really thought was one of those movie dream sequences. It felt so awkward. I kept thinking we were going to realize this was someone’s coma dream in the hospital.
  • Promises you make to god when you’re scared don’t count. No one thinks this. They are not a reason to marry someone if you don’t want to.
  • Even if they were, what kind of promise is…”I will marry this man I don’t love if you let this other guy I DO love live”? No. Promise to be a good person! To give to the poor! To be nice to the minions! Marrying someone when you don’t want to isn’t the kind of inherently good thing you promise to god.
  • If Chuck was just in a bad car accident, didn’t it seem weird that he was totally unrattled when he almost got hit by that taxi?
  • I’m so sick of Chuck and Blair realizing they love each other and then coming up with stupid reasons they can’t be together. Divine intervention is even dumber than when Chuck sold her to his uncle or when they broke up because Blair didn’t want to live in Chuck’s shadow, or when he slept with Jenny, or when he stood her up because his dad said he should, or when she ditched him because he was mean to Dan. Enough!
  • Here’s a plausible reason Dan and Blair were photographed sneaking around: because Dan and Serena are secretly dating! Wait…what?
  • Gossip Girl is inexplicably kaput. What happened to her? And now there is NO gossip on the internet now that one site is down?
  • Why would everyone randomly start emailing Serena? That makes no sense. And why do people still care about her? She’s still sort of famous in this fake NYC? What is she even blogging about?
  • If the family is so famous, why doesn’t the real Charlie Rhodes recognize Lily? If not because she’s this allegedly high profile person in the newspaper, wouldn’t she have, you know, SEEN pictures of her aunt ever?
  • Oh yeah. PS, by the way, Blair miscarried. No big deal. Mentioned off hand, given something like a 30 second scene.
  • Nate wants to investigate this car accident by talking to the driver so…invite him to my New Year’s Eve party!
  • Why is the NYE episode airing in mid-January?
  • Why does Louis (a world famous, tabloid fodder prince) think that it’s a good idea to publicly accuse Blair of cheating on him in a room full of journalists?

It’s like they fired all of the writers and just pieced together scripts from bad fan fiction. I just can’t. I’m too old. I think I’m done.


Renting FTW!

Three years ago I was all about renting.  I was pretty anti-homeownership.  I liked my flexibility, the market was scary, you get to call someone else when stuff breaks, and owning in San Diego was way more expensive than renting anyways. (Plus, you don’t own your home anyways, you lease it from the government and pay “rent” in the form of property taxes, but that’s a whole ‘nother thing.)

What can I say?  Both my parents were in the Navy.  I went to four high schools.  My parents didn’t buy their first home until they were in their 50s.  It’s genetic.

But then, hey, there was a story on the news about tax credits for home buyers proposed as part of the big stimulus bill back in 2008.  Um, okay.  My principles are for sale.  I suggested we consider looking at homes on a Thursday.  That Saturday I met with a realtor.  We looked at six places, and the next Sunday we made an offer.

And I love our place.  And the tax benefits.

But hello, summer of 2011!  The air conditioning broke.  The water heater leaked.  And a drafty window let water seep into walls, creating a lovely musty odor.

The problem with these issues was not how much they cost to fix. (About $2,100.)  The problem was that the air conditioning went out at about 8 am on a super hot day.  The repairman came around 3 pm. 

For seven hours I was terrified that we needed a new air conditioner, that the guy was going to tell me I needed a new one even if I didn’t, that it would cost maybe $6,000 ( I couldn’t get a good estimate from the internet), that the guy would sort of fix it in a way that would cause it to explode, that it was leaking something scary into the ground. The potential for disaster is seemingly limitless.

I miss renting.  And not having to worry about having emergency house repair savings. Meh.

Nobody cares about your airport stories. I promise. We all tell them anyways.

I felt inexplicably anxious about my flight today, but what could be luckier than flying with O’Malley the Mallard on St. Patrick’s Day? 

Since I’d already punched my card for my one non-vegan thing per day (an egg and cheese breakfast biscuit as a treat since I had to get up at dark thirty this morning) I scoped out the vegan options at Denver’s airport:

Almond butter on Ezekiel bread in a baggie.

I was afraid the almond butter on my sandwich would count as a “liquid or gel” but had no hassle.  I did get my picture taken with the x-ray photo thing people used to be all in arms about.  I smiled for the camera, then felt silly, then changed my mind and felt awesome instead.  Then I ate a sandwich and felt smug about not breaking my pledge and not spending $9 on a bad vegetarian airport sandwich.

I know the airport is essentially a bus station with slightly better security (and bars!) but this seemed a bit much.  Getting on the floor is one thing.  Laying down is one thing.  Sprawling in front of where people walk up to the counter or the gate seems like more of a cry for attention than a quest for comfort.  And I suppose it worked since I snapped a photo and blogged about it.