Eventually friends showed up. I got to close out the evening joking around with good friends and laughing hysterically over the "Non-Profit League" and other such nonsense. The "Non-profit League" is/will be a league of super
I think I may have found my inspiration. For comics. Another thing to steal me away from marital obligations.
2. I'm sort of a mess and seem to be more and more frequently late. I'll provide you with a nice mental image. About one hour after the start time of the event, I could be found standing in a cemetery wearing rolled jeans, ballet flats, an overly long cardigan with one of those Yasir Arafat style scarves, my red plastic framed glasses with a blackberry in one hand and a jar of pickled green beans in the other. That's a hipster photo shoot if there ever was one. If only there were a picture so I could put it on my myspace. I would probably also need to update my profile song to something newer and more obscure though. Anyway, I did make it to the brunch at Miss E's place, where we had bagels and cream cheese and orange rolls and Bloody Marys. Delish. Anyway, showing up an hour late and with little direction, I tried to call every one of our mutual friends (and of course Miss E) and then attempted to facebook stalk via fb mobile.
3. I'm not as cultured as I ought to be. I totally failed to go to the Bach concert I meant to attend. The brunch went later than intended and it was Sunny.
4. If it is sunny, I will probably want to spend time in the sun and not lovin' on you.
5. Epic Fail: Domestic Addition. Includes rant. I'm a messy person. I'm a stubborn person. I'm a procrastinator. There you go, I just listed out my three worst traits. My three worst traits paired with a roommate who exhibits many of the same traits is bad news. We are regularly in a battle of the wills related to doing dishes or cleaning the apartment. She always wins. In the year that we've lived together, she rarely does the dishes, may not have ever swept or really tidied, and most certainly has never touched a bottle of bleach or scrubbed the friggin' toilet. I always break down first and clean. Recently it's gotten pretty bad, with every dish we own cultivating a new civilization in the sink, a leaning tower of Pizza boxes, and clothes and shoes strewn everywhere.
Cue catalyst. Friday, after working all day and partying all night, I arrive home to discover a note on the door. The landlords are coming into the apartment on Tuesday at 10am to check the carbon monoxide detector and check to see if things need repair (um yes, like my broken window which might have been fixed before the COLD weather if we wanted to be really helpful). I see the note but can't really do much about it on Saturday because of the auction. Saturday evening I receive a text message from the roommate that says something along the lines of: did you see the note? and when will you have time to clean stuff? I responded that I was really busy working the Auction and then at the bar and had plans Sunday morning for brunch but that if she could do the dishes and pick up, I could do all the scrubbing and sweeping and the really laborious stuff. She then responded that those things were not as important and that what really needed to be done was dishes and pick up and trash removal and that she had to work all these extra jobs suddenly and that could I please start on the dishes and stuff because "[she didn't want to get stuck doing it all herself]."
HA! Ha. Ha.
I wrote back with my tentative schedule, said that this was obviously not good timing for either of us and pointed out that this was likely to be a contentious issue and that I would do what I could but that I didn't want to get stuck doing it all myself either. While thinking that I ALWAYS do it all by myself and that that text message was HILARIOUS.
Sunday, before heading to Miss E's brunch extravaganza, I started on the cleaning. I removed all the dishes from the sink and put them to soak in a separate tub with hot, soapy water. I removed the primordial soup from the bottom of the sink and, while dry heaving, dumped it in the empty trash can, having taken out the other trash. I also filled up another trash bag or two with empty soda cans, plastic bottles, beer bottles, beer cans, and random other trash which was at least 75% NOT MINE. I then went about my day, having brunch with Miss E, soaking up a little sun, then going to work, where I remained until bar close.
It was a ridiculously slow night, but I stuck around anyway, hoping for the late night stragglers. At close to bar close Mr. JB showed up and we started talking about what's been going on in our lives, etc. He had a text or call from Miss M, learning that she and my roommate were hanging out. Hanging out at bar close on a Sunday night meaning my roommate was out drinking. When I went home after hanging out with Mr. JB for an hour or so, I discovered that the apartment was untouched. That not a dish had been washed, not an item had been moved, and most likely she hadn't set foot into the apartment. I guess she really didn't want to "do it all [herself]" and she is certainly succeeding.
I'm writing from work. I'm at the radio station again doing some wrap up. I have to go pick up some last minute gift certificates and clean up the office. I sent a text message that I had started and asking when she might be able to work on the clean up. No response. All I know is that if I do end up doing this all on my own, especially after that passive aggressive text message, I will be pissed. And it'll be a really good thing I'm leaving on vacation on Wednesday.
So, yeah, the point there: Don't marry me because I'll be a terrible housewife.
6. Also I'll probably blog about it when you are a jerk.
7. And last night I talked to my mom. I was really late in the Mothers' Day sentiments and caught my mom when she was probably at least two and a half sheets to the wind, if not three. It started out with the usual how-are-yous and how-was-your-days and ended with my mom debating with me about the choices I might make if I were to discover that I was knocked up. You might wonder why my mom would be wondering what I would do if I got pregnant and it's not just a maternal urge due to the holiday... All the vague references to my sister's life are related to the fact that my younger sister is going to have a baby. The words I ended on, basically, were that "regardless of who I sleep with, whether I think the world of him, having a child right now is not an option" and that "I have, in fact, thought long and hard about all of this because having sex, even safe sex, still puts one at risk to become pregnant." The reason I figured my mom was drunk was because she was misspelling everything, she brought it up (she gets sort of emotional when she is drunk and once cried because I said I might never have children), and because she at some point interpreted what I was trying to say as that I "only sleep with men [I] would have a child with." If that were the case, I'd be a virgin. So, don't marry me if you wanna have lots of babies.
I think that's it. Those are 7 reasons to not marry me. At least right now. It's also an interesting way to recap an interesting 36 hours.