He's not religious, so he must be native

As mentioned earlier, Stompy moved out. I got the opportunity to meet the new tenants awhile back. Upstairs Lady and Upstairs Lady's Daughter, or Upstairs Girl. I'm sure I'll have nicknames for them soon enough.

From our brief conversation I determined that it would be a good fit. She claims they're not home much and Girl is old enough not to be loud as fuck. Plus we have staggered days off, so I now have the entire weekend to do laundry and they get a few days during the week. Sounds great, perfect even.

My landlord also told me that Upstairs Girl plays guitar, so I figured their tolerance for loud, obnoxious 'music' making would be high and I could play to my hearts content.

Everything was going swimmingly. Until I came home one day; Upstairs Lady was out on the porch, she peeked over the edge and said she wanted to give me forewarning. Girl has a dance recital coming up, so I might hear some thumping and what-have-you for the next two weeks while she practices.

Not too big of a deal, considering she said that the thumping would not happen any later than 9pm. Sounds great, perfect even.

So what kind of dance?

Breakdancing.

Great. Perfect.

Needless to say, 'some thumping' is the understatement of the century.

Wow - she really barricaded through that door

I found a bunch of hot dogs in my freezer the other day. As it turns out, that in and of itself is weird on so many levels. (this (*) denotes one level of weird) For one, I didn't know I had them*, and I have absolutely no idea where I got them from*. Also, they made me realize that I have hot dog buns in my freezer*, which I happened to notice* moments before finding the dogs. I'm pretty sure I got the dogs and the buns at the same time, from the same place*. And even with that, I still can't figure out where they came from*. I'm going to blame my dad on that one.

Anyway, that's not the weirdest part. The weirdest part is that I've been thinking about hot dogs a lot lately*. I've even told stories about hot dogs*. In fact, I even have more hot dog related stories in reserve that I haven't had a chance to tell*.

So, onto the first installment of Heather vs Hotdogs*.

When I was a kid, I can recall watching my mom grate cheese for dinner one night. I was young, maybe 4 years old. I was mesmerized by it - it looked like so much fun and it produced a tasty treat. I wanted to try it, I wanted to help; my mom wouldn't let me because she was afraid I'd grate myself. Understandably, I was left to observe.

Another day, who knows how long after, I was sitting in the living room watching TV. It was one of those old wooden ones with a built-in speaker and everything. One day for lunch, Granny gave me a hot dog.

A raw hot dog. I can't recall if it was intended to tide me over until she could give me something else, or if she actually gave me a raw hot dog for lunch. We all know that, texturally, raw hot dogs are gross and we also know that if anything about food is going to throw me off, it's texture.

I may or may not have been too happy about having to eat the thing. That's about the time I noticed the speaker on the TV.

It looked an awful lot like a certain kitchen appliance that I'd seen my mom use. A certain kitchen appliance that I was not allowed to use because I'd hurt myself. I looked at the speaker. I looked at my hot dog.

I started grating. I grated a good portion of hot dog into the TV before I got caught.

I don't remember what happened next. I probably got sent to my room without real lunch. I may or may not have been spanked. But I'm 100% certain Granny had a hard time keeping a straight face on that one.

Big thanks to EliseArt for providing illustrations.

Then I looked up "Syphilis" under Google images.... I saw things you can't unsee.

The past few days have been a roller coaster of events and emotions; I've come to the conclusion that the universe hates me and wants me to cry.

I think I wrote a post about karma, or Murphy or The Spite Gods having it out for me. Well, folks, it's happening again. Luckily, for EliseArt, I will be able to reuse pictures from the post that I'm pretty sure I already wrote. These are all true stories. (*dramatization... may not have happened).

Stompy moved out and my landlord was working on the place getting it ready for the new tenants. He called and asked me to go through the storage room and pick out anything that wasn't mine and he'd deal with it. Sounds great. I pointed out a few items, one of them being a set of crutches, and he took them away. All the while, I was eyeing the crutches, thinking "Wow, those could come in handy!".

I was reluctant to actually keep the crutches, because of karma, or Murphy, or The Spite Gods or The Universe having it out for me, so I let him put them out in the alley. Later that night, I went and had a few drinks with K, told her about the crutches and said "If I take them, isn't it just asking to get hurt?". She said no. And then I fell down.

I didn't hurt myself in an I-need-crutches-kind-of-way, but it sure answered my question. And the answer is, yes, yes it is just asking to get hurt.

The other day I was driving home and realized I needed gas, I also realized that I forgot my wallet at home. I had to stop in at work for a few minutes before heading home and chuckled to myself when I considered calling BCAA and having them bring me $10 worth of gas, just so I didn't have to go home and then go straight back out. I thought it's a bit ridiculous, but I never use BCAA so I might as well. Then I realized that my BCAA card is in the wallet I forgot at home. Dammit.

I cleaned my car the other day and it made me think that maybe my car isn't dead to me and maybe I don't need to buy a new one soon, maybe it is a good car. And then this morning I was driving to work and BAM - it sounded like my front brakes fell off and were just rolling around in the wheel well. I was pretty sure the car was going to burst into flames. I parked it and then walked the rest of the way to work.

I went about my day and I decided early on that the breakdown wasn't the end of the world, it would almost work out well. My mechanic is close to my home and my home is close to the polling station for the election. I could tow my car to the mechanic, walk to the polling station and then be home, all within a reasonable time period. It was practically perfect.

As I was getting ready to leave, I thought I'd give the mechanic a call just to let him know I was going to tow my car there. I get the voicemail, which isn't unusual, and I listen to the greeting and it says they're shutdown UNTIL MAY 23rd!

My other mechanic is in Surrey and there's no way I could be back in time to vote. Luckily, BCAA was able to fix my problem and I didn't have to have my car towed and repaired. So.... never have to use BCAA, huh? Blamo - Spite God powers initiated!

Big thanks to EliseArt for providing illustrations

Now I KNOW you're fucking with me

Amphenicols? Really? Plus a ramdon string of words... AND "I'm on to you"!?!?! Definitely fucking with me. Definitely. I have never once blogged about Amphenicols. (I suppose I just did... but still!).