Wednesday, August 30, 2006

Special Rant, Moving Edition: U-Suck, U-Haul!

In elementary school I was part of a clique of girls called UTAH. Yes, I’m serious. It was pretty much the only anagram of the first letters of our names that formed a word (without me they could have been something cute like HAT), and so we had to settle for a proper noun that calls to mind polygamy and a foul-smelling Salt Lake. Anyway, within this clique of friends we all decided we had to have nicknames. The nicknames were apropos of absolutely nothing, but they made us laugh. Adri was “A-Track”. Tara was “T-Money”. And me? I was “U-Haul”. I thought it was funny. Now that I’m a grown-up and have become familiar with my nick-namesake company, I realize that I may as well have called myself “Exxon” or “New Coke”; no two ways about it, I picked a lemon. I want to be associated with U-Haul about as much as I want to be associated with venereal disease.

I don’t even have the time or energy to go into detail about what’s wrong with U-Haul. They just suck, gloriously. From the unreliable reservation system to the (and I’m being generous) non-existent customer service to the complete morons (to call them retards would be an insult to actual retarded people) working the desks, the one thing U-Haul does brilliantly is suck at a level that really puts all other sucking to shame. If you don’t believe me, Google "U-Haul sucks".. The real kicker is that they have a monopoly, so you basically have no choice but to use them, and they know that, so they really don’t give a shit. I’m starting to think that U-Haul really must be run by the mafia, because I don’t understand why I can choose from fifty thousand different restaurants and a million different lipstick shades, but when it comes to making major life changes like moving, I will undoubtedly be forced to wait in line for 6 hours for a “confirmed” reservation that is neither reserved nor confirmed and will eventually find myself driving a shit box from hell down 4th Avenue, rushing to meet my return deadline while my wordly possessions rattle around in the back because there is NO FUCKING ALTERNATIVE.

I thought the whole point of America was to have so many choices that you become either incredibly fat or depressed.

I mean, right?

P.S. U-Haul sucks. Pass it on.

Monday, August 28, 2006

Monday Non-Sequitur

I like making lists. To-Do lists, grocery lists, lists of all of the clothes I own (no, really, since I was twelve and started going to Camp Onas and they made us tape inventory lists to the insides of our trunks; something about writing down all of my possessions on paper made me feel like I had a lot of stuff, and to this day it calms me. Shut up.), exercise schedules (ha!), food diaries (which is a funny idea when you think about it – you can pretty much translate it as if it were a real diary, but in caloric code: “Breakfast = Wheat bran with bananas” means “Am feeling self-punitive; have $1.17 in checking account”; “Peanut butter brownie with Twix bar chaser, 3pm” means “I hate my job.”) – where was I ? Geez, I’ve finally done it: I’ve digressed myself into a corner. This paragraph needs to die.

Aaaaanyway, I like making lists. In fact, I should have made this a list. Or would that have been too cute and obvious?

Sunday, August 27, 2006

The Ice-Cream Thief and other stories

I still feel so bad about what happened yesterday. It seriously ruined my day, which I hope brings some happiness to those I offended. I spent most of the day fighting with my boyfriend, sobbing, and cleaning the bathroom (not all at once, thank God -- that would be the most terrible trifecta ever). Then last night I had bad dreams.

To hopefully even the score, I'm going to list for you, in this public forum, all of the things that suck about me as a roommate. I will try very hard to be painfully honest.

1. I will eat your food. I will only eat the good stuff, too -- ice cream, cookies, left-over Chinese. Sometimes I will replace it, but other times I will just hope that you won't notice, and later, if you ask me about it, I will lie. It's a compulsive behavior that I can't seem to kick.

2. I leave my dishes in the sink. Sometimes I wash them, but usually I leave them until they form a big pile.

3. The towel in the bathroom smells. The reason is that I'll leave it there for a week or so, in an un-ventilated bathroom, and use it to dry my hair. It never quite dries, and ends up smelling of mildew, at which point I might wash it, but other times I just Febreze, Febreze, Febreze.

4. I leave hair elastics lying around, and, since my hair is long and thick, they often have a little bundle of hair clustered around them.

5. I use way too much toilet paper. I am that guy. I wrap it around my hand until I have a giant swab. Because of this we run out of toilet paper at an alarming rate. Of course, I rarely buy it. Someone else always will.

6. I am a messy cooker. I drip and drop things all over the counters and the floor, and sometimes I don't clean them up.

7. If you are female, chances are I have at some point used your makeup or your cleanser or your face lotion or your hair mousse. If it's in the bathroom I have definitely used it (maybe even to the point where I use half of it) and if it's in your bedroom then I have probably used it to test it out, but then only when you are not home.

8. On that note, I will use whatever shampoo is in the shower caddy, not just my own. As you can see from items 1 and 7, I have a "grass is always greener" compulsion that leads me to take/use other people's things without asking. I won't steal or anything, but I'll use your expensive conditioner without a second thought.

9. I made fun of my roommates' cats. Well, I was kind of mean to their cats. I almost never petted them and spent most of my time batting them away or kicking them out of my room. I'm a bitch.

10. I made fun of Flan flavor Jell-O. Well, here's some of the stuff I eat: banana-flavored fiber bars; chocolate-flavored peanut butter; cottage cheese mixed with avocado; parmesan-ranch fake "chik'n patties"; Wheat Thins with cream cheese; spelt bread; soy nut butter; lumpy homemade oat bran-flax muffins. You think my old roommates could maybe have made fun of those?

Ahhh, I feel better now. I'm going to go cry into my spelt toast, and then I have to go buy toilet paper. Fun day #2, comin' atcha.

Saturday, August 26, 2006

I am a Mean Girl

My former roommates, who are lovely people and who I have nothing against personally, read the last post (which I've now deleted) in which I made fun of their taste and possessions. Needless to say, they are not happy with me.

On the one hand, part of me feels that, as a writer, I have to be prepared to hurt, anger, and annoy people without letting it get to me. On the other hand, these people were friends, and what I wrote was incredibly mean-spirited and served no purpose other than to get a cheap, sardonic laugh.

I guess I know the line now; I guess I've crossed it. Some things you post on your blog, some things you don't. I may have lost two friends because of this blog, but hopefully they'll be the last two.

I'm sorry.

Friday, August 18, 2006

Off to Block Island

I'll be gone for a few days, doing this:

(What you can't see in the photo is the carafe of wine)

Thursday, August 17, 2006


Dear Readers (I could list you by name, but for the sake of dignity I'll pretend there are some out there I'm not related to),

Last night, praising my online persona, the love of my life said to me:

"You're a sassy curmudgeon who can turn a good phrase."

He set the bar high, but I know you guys are up to the challenge.

I'm re-vamping my resume and want to find more colorful things like this to aid me in pitching my writing and my personality to potential editor and employers.

The best one-liner will win dinner with -- you guessed it -- the sassy curmudgeon, during which I will get too drunk and speculate about the sham of fake-baby Suri Cruise.

Post as comments or email me. Happy veiled insulting!

Wednesday, August 16, 2006

Procrastination Journal, Volume 1 (Well, Really Like Volume 102,000,098, But Previous Volumes Never Documented)

I decided to make my own mascot and theme song.

Catchy, no?

Details Magazine: Lover of Women - er, "Fatties"

So it has come to this. Welcome to womanhood, girls. You've got two choices here, only two: skeleton or pig. The footwear - thank God - stays the same.

What puports to be an article about how great it is that Hollywood women are getting healthy and non-emaciated (which, by the way, means that they wear between a size 2 and 6 as opposed to an XS from BabyGap) is illustrated with a picture of a pig in high heels and the headline "FAT IS BACK".'s Rebecca Traister says it better than I can right now through my blood-red haze of rage. Read her response here.

Tuesday, August 15, 2006

Renewing Our Vows

Soooo ... I've been pretty busy with the new job, and therefore pretty lazy with this freefall into my own neuroses. Sorry. I'll start writing every day. For real this time.
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