Saturday, August 30, 2008

the pleasures of the first world

I moved today. And, as I wrote about before, I am still nervous about this apartment. I think a few decor changes and a good scrub down will fix it right up. But the room I think is the smallest I have ever lived in, maybe not including dorm rooms. And the apartment has a funny smell, which, again, I think could be remedied by some cleaning and some candles.

Meanwhile, Hurricane Gustav looks like it's about to demolish New Orleans (again). And I can't read about this stuff. Because then how can I legitimately feel sorry for myself..."oohh waaah....my apartment that is not about to be destroyed is too smaaallll" "booohooo...my back hurts from moving all of my possessions, and not even just the ones that mean the most to me." Other people and their catastrophes really rain on my self-indulgent pity parade.

The movers were two hours late coming and they did not call. I was pissed because I was aready at the storage unit and just had to sit on the sidewalk with all my stuff like an abandoned kid. For two hours. It wasn't like I was at home and could dick around finishing stuff or plug the tv back in or something. After they were done moving and I paid them, the mover had the gall to ask me for a tip. Are you kidding me? You're gonna ask me that after you were two hours late. What a jackass. Irreminded him that they were two hours late. So then he whines, "you're on the third floor. I got all sweaty"
That's right asshole, cuz you're a MOVER....you MOVE things....and when one moves, one gets sweaty. Deal. I did not give him a tip. My tolerance for being ripped off is pretty much nil at this point.

Oooh my life is so saaaddd...I had to argue with a guy to not tip him the equivalent of the average monthly income in Ethioooopia.

Boo to social consciousness.

Friday, August 29, 2008

D-d-d-d-downgrade

I am moving tomorrow. I am really nervous about this apartment because there are 3 other roommates. I don't actually like other people, so this is kind of a lot for me. Plus, I think they may have been a little disingenuous about how clean they are.
But there it is.
And, basically, I can never move again, because in the 4 years that I have been an actual grown up, my quality of living has just disintegrated.
The first place I ever lived on my own was 2 bedrooms, 1.5 baths, with a garage, dishwasher, garbage disposal (there's another small pleasure. How great is it to not have to fish crap out of the sink. Ugh it makes me nauseous just thinking about it.), washer and dryer!, etc. for which I paid $450 a month.
This place will be 3 other people, a room that is smaller than I thought it was when I first saw it, and of course none of the modern conveniences that I would like to be a part of my life. Someday soon we will be reunited, washer and dryer....dishwasher, you can come too.
However, I will have cable again, which means I can quit watching Everybody Loves Raymond. AND i will have cable in my room, which I have not had since that first place 4 years ago....and if there's anything I love, it's living the life of a recluse. Just me on my bed with my cats watching tv.
Blah blah blah I know that was in Oregon and now I'm in New York and it's different...but it has just been a steady decline since then.
Anyway, I should be packing, which is why so many updates.

Small Pleasures.

So I am in a training today, which basically everyone has said is pointless, but is an agency mandate. <3 pointless beauraucratic tasks.
I had this training all day yesterday too, but my internet was blocked. Today, it's available. It's small things like that that keep me going. So here is a list of other small things that I enjoy.

Filling up my weekly pill container:
Until my school insurance ran out and I had to quit taking my antidepressants, I took a lot of medication daily...this has been for the past decade. I still take a fair amount because I love vitamins. So every week I fill up my weekly pill thing and it gives me an immense amount of joy. I like the organization of it. I like the consistency of the routine. I like taking pills out of big jars and putting them into small containers. I can't wait until I am old and I have one of those huge ones that has compartments for morning, noon and evening.

Vitamins:
I am a complete sucker for herbal remedies. I am the reason that those companies make so much money. I love to research ailments on the internet, find the appropriate herbal/vitamin cure, spending $10 on 30 pills and waiting for miracles to occur. Many of these don't last for whatever reason - the pills are too big, I forget about them, I decide that my ailment is cured (as in the case of my elevated liver functions, for which I took Milk Thistle for 2 weeks and then returned to normal liver functioning). I particularly love when the come in gummy or delicious varieties, which leads me to:

Vitamin B12 sublinguals:
I cannot emphasize how much I love these. I am taking gummy ones right now and they are an unsatisfactory replacement. When I have the sublinguals, I look forward to my twice daily B12 dose. So delicious. Buy them. Also, it's almost fall, while you're in the vitamin section, buy the Vitamin C gummies that are shaped like orange slices.

When The Subway Comes Right As I Get On The Platform:
Self explanatory. I don't have to run. I don't have to wait. It makes me feel like it will be a good day.

Making New Star Charts
I use star charts to track goals. Sometimes I achieve the goals, sometimes I don't. But a new star chart is just filled with possibility.

That's all I can think of for now.

Thursday, August 28, 2008

Fall Line-Up

OK, this is to address Amy's question about the new 90210.
My thoughts are:
Do I think it will be good? Not at all.
Will I watch it? Most definitely.
And, assuming it's not unbearable, I will likely watch the whole season.

I love TV so much. Unashamedly.
I was watching commercials for new shows and shows I love that are returning and I get really excited. I don't care that it makes me the equivalent of a shut-in to have 3 hours of shows per night that I watch. It doesn't bother me that I care more about what's going on with Blaire and Serena than John and Barack.

I am proud that I am working on becoming a morning person so I can go to the gym in the morning and be available for my shows in the evening.

Because I think it's a sentiment that bears repeating, here is a post from my myspace blog from last year:
i don't like it when people write anything the lines of "kill your television", "television rots your brain", "i don't have time to watch tv" or "there are so many more things to do than watch tv".
bullshit. every time you come home you wanna go white water rafting or reorganize your kitchen cabinets? of course not. sometimes you want to come home and watch my super sweet 16 and just sit....if you don't, once you're done reading vegan cookbooks and re-enter the real world you won't be able to have a conversation with normal people, because normal people don't want to hear about all of the different ways to process the soy bean.
but more than that i hate people who write "i don't have/make time for tv, but when i do...." and then they go on to list about 25 shows that are all American Idol, Dancing With The Stars and SpongeBob....Eff that...you can't have both...you can't appeal to the people listening to classical music and studying walking sticks, and the mindless masses who love American Idol...it's one or the other....either you don't watch tv because you're too busy loving dragons and all mythical creatures or you're normal...own it.

Wednesday, August 27, 2008

Hm

People only like my blog when I talk about dating failures or my court show appearances. I don't feel like writing about bad dates and I haven't been on tv recently. Anyone interested in guest blogging. You could be read by tens of people!

Monday, August 25, 2008

Here are some webcomics...

...that reflect current events
(in my life. i don't care about russia or DNC's. When's that next Duggar special, btw?)




















Friday, August 22, 2008

You don't know if you wanna hit me or kiss me


This is an im conversation I had with my friend earlier today:

me
:
i really am a cautionary tale
to everyone, apparently

Bernard: yeah

I would think you'd want to change that

me: not really, actually

then what would i talk about

Bernard: what's funny is guys LOVE girls like you

me: girls like me how?

Bernard: messes

me: guys who have savior complexes

Bernard: guys think they're the thing that's gonna mix them

me: yep

Bernard: when that's so wrong

me: 1. there's no saving me from myself. 2. i don't want to be saved

Bernard: it's a problem in our wiringright

no and once you get that

(by you I mean guys)

then and only then can one have a truly interesting and beneficial relationship

me: i also think i need to learn how to not appear as though i need saving, when i don't

but that's a whole other issue

Bernard: yeah

otherwise it's a mixed message sort of thing





Jezebel recently had a post about the "manic pixie dream girl", best personified by Natalie Portman in Garden State. They had nothing but loathing for her, although I actually really loved her in that movie. Probably because I wanted to BE her. Whatever the polar opposite of the Manic Pixie Dream Girl is, that's probably me....the Depressive Analytical Fever Nap girl. I don't really watch a lot of movies, so I can't think of an example.
My blog title is from Dick Tracy (love that movie), in which Madonna plays the amazing Breathless Mahoney (side note, this girl I was friends with in 5th grade had a Breathless Mahoney t-shirt, which I would pay good money to have now). I am not nearly as sexy as Breathless, but I think she, Natalie Portman in Garden State and I all have one thing in common - a redemption complex. This is not to say that I am the one who wants to be saved, but that people tend to want to save me. Usually dudes. And I can't emphasize enough - I don't want to be saved. And honestly, I don't think I need saving.

For all my theatrics, misanthropy and self-deprecation, I actually think I have my life relatively together...I don't live in a trailer cum meth lab with 6 dirty babies at my feet...I pay my bills, I have more than one functional social relationship, I have an education, hobbies and goals....and even if those goals do include living my life by moving from one reality show appearance to the next, by many accounts I'm doing all right. So what is it that I project that makes people think they need to save me, or alternately write me off as "oh, caitlin" and laugh at my antics publicly while shaking their heads privately?
I don't think I know anyone who seems to attract the rescuer as much as I do, and if they did, I don't know if they would reject it as strongly as I do. As much as I often feel that my quality of life is tenuous and will be unraveled with one of my many infamous terrible decisions...I also don't want anyone to step in and think they need to fix it for me.
So, I guess my question is...for those of you who know Depressive Analytical Fever Nap girls, what is it about us that proclaims we need rescuing. And, do any of you feel like you fall into this category?

Saturday, August 16, 2008

Another lawsuit?!


So, after I left the apartment on DeKalb (with the landlord and the bedbugs and all), there was a cracked mirror door in my bedroom. Sam did a walkthrough of the apartment, didn't notice it and wrote Abby and I our security deposit checks. Several days later he called Abby saying he was going to stop payment on my check because of the mirror. She told him to call me, he did, I couldn't talk and then I didn't hear from him. The check had shown up in my bank account and I assumed it cleared. I didn't hear any more from him. I also don't really look very closely at my bank statement because it makes me feel bad, so it was a month before I realized that he had stopped payment on the check. The bank had also charged me $25 for the stopped check. This was 2 weeks ago.
I called Sam immediately and asked for the check. He was reasonable and said he just needed a forwarding address for me and that he would send it the next day. I waited a week and never saw the check. I called him this past Tuesday and said I still didn't have the check. He gave me some bullshit about some letter they were waiting for from the bank and a whole bunch of nonsense. I told him that I needed the money by Friday or I would take him back to court. Big surprise, Friday rolls around...no check. Seriously? He's really gonna do this to me?
So then I was doing a little research. In New York, as in many other states, if the landlord does not give you the security deposit back within 30 days you are entitled to twice the amount. This is good news for me, because I am going to tell him that either he can give me back the full deposit (750) plus the $25 for the stop payment now and I'll drop the lawsuit (I am going to tell him I filed it already), or he can wait until we go to court where he can pay me $1,500 minus the $75 (or $135 as he claims) for the broken mirror. I am really hoping he chooses the option where I don't have to sue him again, just because I want to be over with. But I suspect he may choose the latter because he is arrogant enough to think that laws don't apply to him.
And this is what I don't understand. By now you would think he would realize that I am not one to be fucked with. I'm smarter than him, tenacious, and honestly, more desperate for money and pretty much will go the distance to get what I'm owed. I think he may think that my desperation means that I'll settle for less....but he underestimates my "strong sense of justice" (which is something one of my therapists once said about me). And more important than money to me is my feeling that people like him shouldn't fuck around with people just because they can.
My other strategy is to call Judge Karen and suggest a follow up lawsuit.

In other news I got my hair cut today. I was just watching friends and I realized I got "The Rachel". Yeah 1995!

In other other news, my phone is still broken. I ordered a new one and the tracking website says it came but it is not here!! :( It's a good thing no one calls me.

Sunday, August 10, 2008

Thwarted by technology

Thursday morning I got a text from a dude that I have been trying to cut out of my life. Later that morning, I accidentally spilled water all over my phone, frying it and impeding my ability to text. I would have texted back, because I have no self control, so it was clearly the universe intervening before I created further heartache for myself.

The universe wasn't thinking ahead though, and I emailed the dude while I was at work. Then I spent all Thursday and Friday and also Saturday being irritated, that although we had emailed back and forth a couple times, it wasn't to the degree I would have liked. So I was all mopey.

Friday night the dude called me and left a message (EVEN THOUGH I had said my phone was broken. Fucking moron). I can see phone calls and texts, but I can't reply or call back. A few of the keys on my phone still work though, including the one that gets me to voicemail, but not the numbers in my password (side note, I really hate having to have a voicemail password. I don't give a shit who listens to my voicemail. Oh you want to listen to my mom calling to tell me to remind her to tell me a funny story about what happened at the market? Be my guest.). So I go to the website to change my password to numbers that work on my phone. The message that I got was "Invalid Mtn." Which, a websearch tells me does not mean I have an invalid mountain, but in fact an invalid mobile telephone number. Which is bullshit, the website enters it for you and it is actually my phone number. No dice there, can't listen to the voicemail. I would probably have emailed the dude, but...

Saturday night my roommate got drunk and spilled crap all over our cable modem. No more internet. I am in Starbucks paying 6 dollars for an hour...although a hobo just told me there's a free place down the street.
Awesome.
Why was a hobo in Starbucks?

A lot of posts tagged "fail" recently. Things are a little rough for Caitlin right now.

Friday, August 8, 2008

We have to get back to the Island


When I moved out of my old place, ALL I wanted was to be gone. I wanted to be done with the neighborhood, with the apartment, with the landlord, all of it. My sublet is up at the end of the month and I am back to looking at places. With everything that I was so over with that neighborhood, and with this dude who got shot in the face on my old corner, why do I keep gravitating towards places in the same area?

Sunday, August 3, 2008

Dating Disaster #3 or,The date that wasn't


So. I've been posting these dating disasters. And guess who should resurface but Griffin, of the blog stalking fame.
This motherfucker found my blog a while back. Wrote me a comment. Wrote me several emails, trying to get me to go out with him. I didn't, because the psycho checked my blog EVERY HOUR for a while.
So then i write these blogs, and Smith (reported first name) at smithstreetbrooklyn@hotmail.com (obvious fake email. i know that. but in case you want to send hate mail) writes me and says "oh, if you'd like a date you can blog happily about, you should let me know.
Turns out that he has written me on a day when I am bored and lonely, so we agree to meet at this bar in Carroll Gardens at 7:45.
I was a little late. 7:55. I walk into the bar and see friends of my bff Steph -- Bernard and Rebecca.
"Oh, hey...friends of friends" I say, awkwardly. "I am here to meet a date. Some creep who reads my blog and won't leave me alone."
I look around. Everyone at the bar looks the same. and they all look like my potential date. But none seem to be my date. Seriously...they all had the same haircut, same generic t-shirt style....it was bizarre.
"Hey sit and have a drink," my friends say. I comply, all the while looking for my date. For like the first half hour I was watching the door, looking around. I even got out my cell phone to check my email and get his picture from the email, which I showed to Bernard and Rebecca and even the bartender who all confirmed he was not in the bar and had not been in the bar.
He never fucking shows.
There is a dude who looks a lot like Smith. My friends agree that he looks like Smith and "dare" me to go ask if it's him. I do.
No, he says, I am not Smith.
I walk back to my barstool, mortified.
Later, not-Smith comes up to me. "There are about 5 guys over there claiming to be Smith," he says. I laugh, but none of the other not-Smiths come over. I was flattered, and probably would have talked to any of them, but no luck there.
5 drinks later, I decide to leave the bar. I'm drunk, pissed and amused all at the same time.
All this time, my friends insisted that the bartender had a thing for me. I agreed, especially since he kept giving us all these drinks. Normally, he would not be someone I was interested in....but I do like free drinks, and it had been a weird night.
As we get ready to leave the bar, it turns out that he was charging us for the drinks.
Still, my friends decide I should leave a note on a coaster for the bartender who clearly had a thing for me. I do. He shoves it under the bar.
Apparently he looked at it after I left and said, "oh, that's sweet."
Basically? Fuck you.

And here's what I don't get....this dude is kind of obsessed with my blog...kind of obsessed with how amazing I am, and I finally consent to a date, so why the no-show? Was it because I was 10 mins late and he left? I told him I would blog about it..did he get cold feet? Did he not like the picture? 5 not-Smiths, the bartender and Bernard would all say the latter could not possibly be the case. So what gives.
Regardless, I have zero tolerance at this point for date stupidity. So, in case anyone was wondering, there will be no second chances. And I'm taking a break from dating for awhile. I think at least the rest of the month. In the meantime, I'm going to be working out my self-respect and self-esteem issues.

I'm also going to be taking a little break from blogging. Return date TBD.

Friday, August 1, 2008

I got scammed!

So, my mom sent my sewing machine to me and I was very excited. So it came in this big box with all these packing peanuts. And I took the sewing machine out of the box and took it upstairs and threw the box out. The box sat out on the sidewalk for several days and every day I was like, I should just check in that box and make sure i didn't miss anything. But I didn't do it.
So then, last weekend I was all excited to work on some crafts and I go to get out my sewing machine only to see that the foot pedal and power cord were not with it. I had apparently thrown them out. :(
So I had a mini nervous breakdown about my failure to manage basic life skills. Then I did a search online to find the replacement parts. It turns out that they are kind of hard to track down. I did call one company and he was like, "nope, I don't know if we have that." And I was like, "um...ok...would you be interested in checking?" And he gave me a whole bunch of nonsense. So I ended up deciding to order from the only place online that I could find. So I put in the order, got a little receipt and my card was charged. So that was on the 28th.
Yesterday, I emailed to see if I could get a tracking number, and didn't hear back.
Today, I kind of got concerned that it might be a scam, so I called the company. The phone was disconnected. Not a good sign.
I emailed a different email address and it was returned.
I googled "Sewing Style Scam" and came back with several hits, including complaints to the Better Business Bureau. I was totally hosed!
I called the bank to dispute the charges, and then in the meantime decided to call local Janome dealers to get the part.
One place said I needed to send in $20 and that he isn't going to order parts for another 2 weeks anyway.
Another place told me to trace the holes in my machine and bring in the tracing so that he could match up the plugs. I said, "Um, I have given you the make and model for this machine...so you should just be able to look and see if you have it in stock, and if you don't, you order it."
I seriously got the same shit from all the places I called. They wanted me to bring in my 20lb machine (not going to happen) and gave me a bunch of bullshit when I questioned why they seem to have so much trouble telling me if they have the part, or ordering it if they don't.
So then, I decided to call this place in Eugene b/c my mom was going to stop in there anyway.
When I called the woman was so nice and said she would check to see if they had it. When she checked and found they didn't have it, she said she would order it.
No bs about me needing to bring in the machine. No crap about tracing holes. And she was so nice. When she looked up how much it cost she was like, "oh i'm sorry, but it's $90". So nice! No bullshit!
And that is why I am moving back to Oregon next June.
My mom said, "Is that the reason New Yorkers are so angry all the time?"
Yes! Exactly! Because there is absolutely no reason for a sewing machine store to not tell me if they have a part. Argh!

Daily functioning Fail.


When I was in 6th grade (see left) I had a locker in school for the first time. I could not get the lock to open on my locker and it was a major source of stress. I had a lot of anxiety in the 6th grade. My mom even came into school after school to help me on more than one occasion, and still I couldn't manage on my own.
We may have even made up a rhyme to help me remember. We made up a rhyme to help me remember my bus, after I got on the wrong bus once in 1st grade. SE-23, in case you are wondering. it wasn't a rhyme so much as just the name of my bus set to a little tune.
Anyway the point of this, besides the opportunity to post this awesome picture of me that I love, is to tell this little story. I went to the 99cent store today to get stickers. They did not have any besides these jumbo Dora stickers that I did not want. But they had some other stuff I wanted, including a padlock. I have misplaced my other locks, I think when I moved, and have been using a little luggage lock when I go to the gym. It's not convenient, so I got this little lock for a dollar.
Well, you get what you pay for and I can't get the son of a bitch open. It's 6th grade all over again! Where's my clip-on tie and my Mary Englebret lunch bag (I didn't start carrying the Sailor Moon lunch box until 8th grade I think).
My mom said I looked like Annie Hall in that outfit, btw, which I think had a coordinating skirt. And my Grandma Sugar loved my glasses so much she was inspired to get blue ones for herself.
Also, I never did learn to open my locker. I began to share a locker with Marissa (who reads and comments!) and Ember (who is probably too busy being a grown up to read my blog)...thus setting the stage for my middle school career. What a happy ending.