I just realized that my birthday is right around the corner. That's right. In next few days my blog turns one year old.
Happy Birthday, Ramdon.
Big thanks to EliseArt for providing illustrations.
Here's a little glimpse into the ridiculous ramdon-ness that I call life...
EliseArt sends me & Gorm an email with a picture of an ewok. (That's not all... it gets much more ramdon). She purchased a drawing tablet and the following conversation between me & Gorm ensued:
Gorm: Yes, people emailing my hotmail are more privileged as I respond more than once a week normally.
Me: Well, aren't they a lucky bunch then!
Gorm: And now, so are you!
Me: Woo - hooo!! I'm special, just like everyone else!
Gorm: "Which is just another way to say - nobody is" -The Incredibles
Me: "D'Oh!" - The Simpsons
Gorm: "Ha Ha!" -Nelson Muntz, The Simpsons
Me: "I think he's really hurt" - Milhouse Van Houten, The Simpsons
Gorm: "Why...why was I programmed to feel pain?" - Linguo, The Simpsons
Me: "This hurts more than it looks" - Homer Simpson - The Simpsons
It's been going on like this ever since. We've, literally, been emailing Simpson quotes back and forth for months now. Holy fuck. And since Mar 22nd we've been on a single episode - Lisa The Vegetarian. We've dropped the quotations and stopped ending everything with "Person Who Said It, The Simpsons" so now it has taken on a structure of that of a screenplay (much like the above).
It doesn't happen everyday, but whenever I get one of these emails it's pretty much the highlight of that day for me. It makes me ridiculously happy. I love every bit of it. I love seeing what quote he uses and I love the scenes that play in my head as I relive the episode for myself and I love having to come up with my own quote.
It's so ridiculous, I just had to share. And you know how gmail starts a new conversation after 100 replies? No? Really? You don't? Well it does. And now we're on our second conversation.
My upstairs people are really loud. Particularly the upstairs lady - she walks like an elephant. Actually, I think elephants would walk way quieter because they have those cushy pads on the bottoms of their feet. She does not.
When I first moved in here, my landlord (during the interview) gave me the heads up that the upstairs lady is a particularly heavy walker. I said that it was okay because my mother is also a particularly heavy walker and I lived with that for 19 years, so how bad could it be? Turns out, really bad.
I have the ability to tune things out, or zone out, if you will. And this worked for the first while that I lived here. After that, I started becoming increasingly agitated by her presence. I would yell things through the floor at her, congratulating her on her ability to annoy the fuck out of me. I knew this behaviour would ultimately lead to my demise, or jail time when I went postal and murdered her, so I forced myself to reign in the negative energy and use it towards something productive.
I managed to keep this up for some time. I hardly noticed when she walked around her bedroom (directly above my head) for an hour and a half on Sunday morning, in high heels. Even though I 'hardly noticed' I started acting out spitefully.
I started playing guitar, loudly, at all hours of the night. Listening to loud music whenever the hell I felt like. And singing loudly, off-key, to the most annoying songs I knew. At some points, even I hated myself and yet that satisfied me enough to keep at it.
Eventually, I got complaints. She would come down and tell me that I'm far too loud. I decided that these uses of my energy wouldn't really be 'productive' if I got evicted; I reigned it in once again.
I recently got a phone call from my landlord; his voicemail said for me to call him because he had something to tell me. Being near the end of the month, I anticipated him telling me he sold the house and I have to move. I was a bit nervous. Turns out, Loud and Louder gave their notice and they're moving out. I'm pretty happy.
I drop my rent off with my landlords cousin every month (they live where my landlord used to live). When I dropped it off, Cousin D asked me if I had heard the news. We start chatting about it a bit (how did I find out, when did I hear, what do I think).
Anyway, at one point, I told Cousin D that they complained to me about being too loud. The look on her face was priceless; she couldn't believe it (pot-kettle-black, much?). So anyway, the point of this post is to say that now that I see the light at the end of the tunnel, she is annoying the fuck out of me again. I'm yelling through the floor and it's only a matter of time before I start playing guitar at midnight, blasting music and singing badly. It's going to be a fun three weeks. Take that, Stompy!