In keeping with a tradition begun in college, I started my weekend last night with a "girls night out." Actually, it was a bit more organized than just a few chicks- - try more than 20!! Congrats, by the way, to Violet and Firecracker for putting together such a wonderful gathering.
Ladies (and guys, for that matter): do all of your friends know each other??
Each of us has friends from different segments of our life, from our workplace or our school or our hobbies. Their only common thread is us.
Or is it??
Among the women I met were: a media relations executive who's dating a CNN reporter; a colleague of an ex-boyfriend of mine; a young woman who wants to get a beach volleyball team together with me.
So much in common and yet, so much more to share!
I hope we do more of these.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - -
In other news...
Lion King is joining me and my gang for a singles mixer tonight! He said he's looking forward to "hanging out with me and my posse."
He emailed me earlier this week and asked what I do for a living. Said it was "marketing information" because he's going to be my wingman. I told him that men don't really care WHAT a woman does for a living unless she's a stripper or a porn star!
On the remodeling front, I've decided on Brazilian Koa (also called tiger wood - - no kidding!) for my floor. Unfortunately, it does not come as a floating floor so basically we're talking about a bunch more time, labor and, of course! $$$
Oh, and for those that read the last post regarding my mother's artistic talent, yes, I did buy a watercolor painting kit to give her for Easter (all together now - - awww!)
Friday, March 24, 2006
Monday, March 20, 2006
Getting to know you
In my ongoing attempt to skim days off my time in Purgatory, I treated my mother and brother to a live show in downtown Chicago yesterday. Afterwards, we all went to dinner at a nearby steakhouse.
My mother lives in the suburbs but loves to come downtown, whether it's to see the storefront lights at Christmastime or a rare dinner/show with me. I think the excitement of city life reminds her of her younger days when she and my father used to attend cocktail parties, looking every bit the socialite couple of the '50s.
Relaxing with a pre-dinner old-fashioned (that's a drink, folks), my mother began to talk about her childhood. Since she was 36 years old when I was born, these rare insights are always wonderful surprises for me.
My mother recently returned from a visit to her sister who lives in Florida. My aunt has, in the last few years, taken up sketching and painting. She's pretty good, too, at least to my untrained eye. I've got a few note cards that are adorned with her artwork.
It seems that as a child, my mother loved art and was, in fact, offered a three-month scholarship to the Art Institute! Her parents, realizing the impracticality of a daughter leaving a job during the Depression to study art, denied her this opportunity.
"I guess God took my talent and gave it to my sister," my mom said.
My mother lives in the suburbs but loves to come downtown, whether it's to see the storefront lights at Christmastime or a rare dinner/show with me. I think the excitement of city life reminds her of her younger days when she and my father used to attend cocktail parties, looking every bit the socialite couple of the '50s.
Relaxing with a pre-dinner old-fashioned (that's a drink, folks), my mother began to talk about her childhood. Since she was 36 years old when I was born, these rare insights are always wonderful surprises for me.
My mother recently returned from a visit to her sister who lives in Florida. My aunt has, in the last few years, taken up sketching and painting. She's pretty good, too, at least to my untrained eye. I've got a few note cards that are adorned with her artwork.
It seems that as a child, my mother loved art and was, in fact, offered a three-month scholarship to the Art Institute! Her parents, realizing the impracticality of a daughter leaving a job during the Depression to study art, denied her this opportunity.
"I guess God took my talent and gave it to my sister," my mom said.
Wednesday, March 15, 2006
Half-full or half-empty?
I awoke today to the ringing of my cell phone. It was my contractor, letting me know that he had just left the security desk in my building where he had dropped off a sample of a wood called cherry betula. I'm supposed to look at it and decide if I'd like to substitute that for the cracked bamboo flooring.
I looked at the clock. 7:10 am CRAP!!! My alarm didn't go off!
A near miss...
After rushing to get dressed for work, I surprised myself by actually remembering to leave from the front entrance so I could pick up the wood sample. (I often leave through the garage.)
Although I live in a big building, the security guard remembered me and told me that I had a package there, too. She handed it to me. The package arrived the previous day, but the notice didn't arrive in my mailbox until late last night. If she hadn't remembered, I wouldn't have received the package till tonight. No biggie, right?
The package contained my corporate tax return which is DUE TODAY!
Another near miss...
Am I being blessed with lucky coincidences or just barely avoiding catastrophe?
I looked at the clock. 7:10 am CRAP!!! My alarm didn't go off!
A near miss...
After rushing to get dressed for work, I surprised myself by actually remembering to leave from the front entrance so I could pick up the wood sample. (I often leave through the garage.)
Although I live in a big building, the security guard remembered me and told me that I had a package there, too. She handed it to me. The package arrived the previous day, but the notice didn't arrive in my mailbox until late last night. If she hadn't remembered, I wouldn't have received the package till tonight. No biggie, right?
The package contained my corporate tax return which is DUE TODAY!
Another near miss...
Am I being blessed with lucky coincidences or just barely avoiding catastrophe?
Tuesday, March 14, 2006
A day (or four) in the sun
Highlights from Spring Training 2006:
- Relief pitcher Roberto Novoa signing autographs, completely unaware that he's tucked his designer shirt into his (no doubt) designer underwear! Okay, maybe I shouldn't pick on him since he's currently suffering from the flu.
- Our Little Lost Cub: Matt Murton seemed a bit lost when Firecracker and I saw him arrive at the Peoria Sports Complex. We were standing on an overpass above the tunnel to the outfield when the Cubs' red-haired left fielder drove up. He walked past the now-empty team bus (apparently, only the scrubs ride the bus!) and turned toward a few open garage doors that enclosed the field maintenance equipment. He turned left. He turned right, stopped and looked around. "It's that way, Matt!" we shouted, pointing toward the tunnel. "Uh, thanks," said Murton with a wave.
- A few minutes after the Murton encounter, after the rest of the team had already begun stretching on the outfield grass, Cubs closer Ryan Dempster arrived. For once, I actually thought of something clever to say. "It figures that the closer would be the last one to show up!" He laughed and waved.
- While celebrating Firecracker's birthday at a cool little nightclub, yours truly almost GOT LUCKY! I saw almost only because I declined the opportunity but the situation definitely makes the highlight reel of this year's Spring Training trip because my potential paramour was an Arizona State University frat boy!!! Yes, indeed! Firecracker and I were propositioned (well, she didn't know it because her attention was elsewhere) by college boys! Honestly, I didn't realize it was THAT dark in there! ;-)
- An elderly man sat in front of Firecracker and I at one of the games. He sat there, in the shade behind home plate, with a chair cushion on his seat and another on the seat next to him. Sometime in the early innings, he got up and walked carefully down the stairs. A few minutes later we spotted him at the bottom of the steep cement stairs, helping his wife gingerly and oh-so-slowly climb the mountain that would bring them to their ballpark perch. The man had one hand on his wife's back and the other on her butt, carefully guiding her up each step. When they reached us, he helped lower her into her seat, using one hand to pull her sweater down over her butt just before she sat. Firecracker and I smiled at the scene. That's what I'm waiting for, someone to push my butt up the stairs.
Thursday, March 09, 2006
The battle of the bamboo
I realized that it's been awhile since I updated my loyal readers (both of you!) on the status of "Project Beach House."
The bamboo hardwood floor has been installed, the new custom-made oak closet doors have been hung, the sunny yellow painting has been done and I've spent waaaay too much time peeking in to admire the beautiful sanctuary that is now MINE!
Truth be told, I've been hearing odd popping noises coming from the still-empty bedroom. (It'll remain empty until the hallway - - a last-minute addition - - is completed.) It's not a repetitive sound like a clock ticking, just every once in a while and just loud enough to make me jump.
Is the room haunted?? Are the closet doors snapping off their hinges? Is the paint bubbling up and popping from some unseen heat source?
Oh, how I wish it was that easy!
Determined to discover the source of the mystery clatter, I tiptoed into the bedroom one sunny morning and squatted down and studied the individual planks of bamboo. And there it was, just as I feared.
A crack. And another one. And another one.
My heart sank.
Tiny cracks - -some only an inch long, some more than a foot - - appear on more than half of my brand-new bamboo planks.
My contractor, Polish Boy, came over and agreed with my assessment.
"Shit," if I can quote him.
The materials have a 30-year warranty and his work is guaranteed for one year, so now the battle begins. PB will call the distributor and discuss replacing the materials...
Oops, excuse me. PB just called me to discuss the latest chapter of my remodeling nightmare.
He plans to send a registered letter to the distributor (who has NOT called him back) and demand a refund for the materials. In the meantime, he asked me to look at samples of another manufacturer's floors and pick a new floor. He'll credit the amount I've already paid for the bamboo towards the new floor.
Trouble is, the new manufacturer does not offer bamboo and I kinda had my heart set on that. Oh well, maybe I'll like Brazilian cherry or something else tropical.
The bamboo hardwood floor has been installed, the new custom-made oak closet doors have been hung, the sunny yellow painting has been done and I've spent waaaay too much time peeking in to admire the beautiful sanctuary that is now MINE!
Truth be told, I've been hearing odd popping noises coming from the still-empty bedroom. (It'll remain empty until the hallway - - a last-minute addition - - is completed.) It's not a repetitive sound like a clock ticking, just every once in a while and just loud enough to make me jump.
Is the room haunted?? Are the closet doors snapping off their hinges? Is the paint bubbling up and popping from some unseen heat source?
Oh, how I wish it was that easy!
Determined to discover the source of the mystery clatter, I tiptoed into the bedroom one sunny morning and squatted down and studied the individual planks of bamboo. And there it was, just as I feared.
A crack. And another one. And another one.
My heart sank.
Tiny cracks - -some only an inch long, some more than a foot - - appear on more than half of my brand-new bamboo planks.
My contractor, Polish Boy, came over and agreed with my assessment.
"Shit," if I can quote him.
The materials have a 30-year warranty and his work is guaranteed for one year, so now the battle begins. PB will call the distributor and discuss replacing the materials...
Oops, excuse me. PB just called me to discuss the latest chapter of my remodeling nightmare.
He plans to send a registered letter to the distributor (who has NOT called him back) and demand a refund for the materials. In the meantime, he asked me to look at samples of another manufacturer's floors and pick a new floor. He'll credit the amount I've already paid for the bamboo towards the new floor.
Trouble is, the new manufacturer does not offer bamboo and I kinda had my heart set on that. Oh well, maybe I'll like Brazilian cherry or something else tropical.
Lion King (the sequel)
Having lost two of three of our final regular season volleyball games last night, my team and I retreated to our favorite watering hole to drown our sorrows. During the walk over, one of the two married teammates mention that one of my other teammates took a liking to Firecracker when she filled in last week.
Hmmn??? Which teammate, I wondered? Was it Lion King? He's always so friendly to everybody that it's hard to distinguish between innocent bon homie and real flirting. Apparently, Lion King is great at talking to women but horrible at "closing the deal," as Married Teammate (MT) put it.
Lion King, Teacher and I sat at one end of our long table and since we are all single, the conversation inevitably turned to dating. I had previously invited both men (intelligent, over 35, employed) to a singles event that I attended with some girlfriends. LK apologized for not receiving the email in time to respond, but promised to make good on the next invitation.
And then the questions began...
"So, if we're going to be your wingmen, what kind of guy do you like?" asked LK.
So, I'm going to have two men finding dates for me? This could be interesting.
Over the next two hours and definitely more than two pitchers of beer, the questioning continued.
"What physical type? Tall? Short? Heavy? Somebody that works out?" LK and I have compared workouts in prior beer-fests. He's been working out since he was 16.
"I know you don't smoke, but would you date a smoker?"
Okay, that's when I got suspicious (so shoot me, I'm not too quick on the pickup--pun intended).
LK smokes.
"You said that you'd like a guy to be able to talk about his interests, things he's passionate about, right? For most of the season, I didn't know what LK did for a living because all he talked about was his volunteer work.
"What would be a romantic date?"
I had to mention that the idea of "romantic" is different for everyone.
"No, I mean YOU! What do YOU think would make a romantic date?"
Uh-oh! Did I mention that we've been drinking beer this entire time??
Long story short...we all walked back to our cars and said good night.
Deal left very much open.
Hmmn??? Which teammate, I wondered? Was it Lion King? He's always so friendly to everybody that it's hard to distinguish between innocent bon homie and real flirting. Apparently, Lion King is great at talking to women but horrible at "closing the deal," as Married Teammate (MT) put it.
Lion King, Teacher and I sat at one end of our long table and since we are all single, the conversation inevitably turned to dating. I had previously invited both men (intelligent, over 35, employed) to a singles event that I attended with some girlfriends. LK apologized for not receiving the email in time to respond, but promised to make good on the next invitation.
And then the questions began...
"So, if we're going to be your wingmen, what kind of guy do you like?" asked LK.
So, I'm going to have two men finding dates for me? This could be interesting.
Over the next two hours and definitely more than two pitchers of beer, the questioning continued.
"What physical type? Tall? Short? Heavy? Somebody that works out?" LK and I have compared workouts in prior beer-fests. He's been working out since he was 16.
"I know you don't smoke, but would you date a smoker?"
Okay, that's when I got suspicious (so shoot me, I'm not too quick on the pickup--pun intended).
LK smokes.
"You said that you'd like a guy to be able to talk about his interests, things he's passionate about, right? For most of the season, I didn't know what LK did for a living because all he talked about was his volunteer work.
"What would be a romantic date?"
I had to mention that the idea of "romantic" is different for everyone.
"No, I mean YOU! What do YOU think would make a romantic date?"
Uh-oh! Did I mention that we've been drinking beer this entire time??
Long story short...we all walked back to our cars and said good night.
Deal left very much open.
Thursday, March 02, 2006
Justice served
The shot of the night at last night's volleyball game belonged to Firecracker, who filled in for a missing teammate. While she hasn't played volleyball in a long time, Firecracker did just fine (especially since she was coming straight from her tennis class...okay, we stopped at a bar before the game, but that's another matter).
In a common miscue for our team, she shanked a serve receive onto the neighboring court, hitting another player in the back of the neck. The neighboring player was clad in not only black elbow pads, but a black sweatband and black GLOVES!!! He wasn't hurt, but you'd think he was shot by a rifle the way his body shook from the impact.
My team fell over themselves laughing at this goofball. In past games against his team, my gang realized that he takes his volleyball a bit TOO seriously and was the perfect target for our rookie ringer to hit.
If not for the fact that Firecracker injured her wrist with the double shot of sports activity last night, it would've been the perfect warmup to our Spring Training trip which begins TOMORROW!!!!
Okay, so she'll have to drink her beer left-handed...
In a common miscue for our team, she shanked a serve receive onto the neighboring court, hitting another player in the back of the neck. The neighboring player was clad in not only black elbow pads, but a black sweatband and black GLOVES!!! He wasn't hurt, but you'd think he was shot by a rifle the way his body shook from the impact.
My team fell over themselves laughing at this goofball. In past games against his team, my gang realized that he takes his volleyball a bit TOO seriously and was the perfect target for our rookie ringer to hit.
If not for the fact that Firecracker injured her wrist with the double shot of sports activity last night, it would've been the perfect warmup to our Spring Training trip which begins TOMORROW!!!!
Okay, so she'll have to drink her beer left-handed...
Saturday, February 25, 2006
...make me a match
One of the girls in our "girls night out" suggested that I go on a blind date with her boss.
It used to be that I would never even CONSIDER a blind date, but having had just five dates in all of 2005, I've loosened up on that rule.
The "boss" is described as a huge Cubs fan (good), works out a lot (good), 52 years old (not ideal, but not horrible), bald (ditto) and "kind of like a dad" (um, ..what??). It occurred to me that Matchmaker, being all of 26 or 27, might consider fatherhood the final nail in the coffin where romance is concerned.
Matchmaker and I only met through a mutual friend that evening, so she really doesn't know anything about me (except for my age). What would make her think that her boss and I would make a good match?
Another of our girls gave me Matchmaker's cell phone number and suggested I call and ask about her boss. I haven't called yet because I'm afraid that Matchmaker might consider anyone over 40 as dead and buried so they'd match up just fine (like all-white gym socks thrown together in a drawer.)
I was thinking about the blind date possibility this morning over my coffee. I mentioned the situation to my Mexican friends at the counter of my usual breakfast place and apparently the customer at the end overheard me.
Getting up to leave, the woman, a senior citizen who not long ago was beautiful, tapped me on the arm and said, "After two marriages and two love affairs, I met the love of my life at 50 on a blind date. Then he died and I haven't met anyone since.
"It's one night out of your life. Go!"
At least I could make the call...
It used to be that I would never even CONSIDER a blind date, but having had just five dates in all of 2005, I've loosened up on that rule.
The "boss" is described as a huge Cubs fan (good), works out a lot (good), 52 years old (not ideal, but not horrible), bald (ditto) and "kind of like a dad" (um, ..what??). It occurred to me that Matchmaker, being all of 26 or 27, might consider fatherhood the final nail in the coffin where romance is concerned.
Matchmaker and I only met through a mutual friend that evening, so she really doesn't know anything about me (except for my age). What would make her think that her boss and I would make a good match?
Another of our girls gave me Matchmaker's cell phone number and suggested I call and ask about her boss. I haven't called yet because I'm afraid that Matchmaker might consider anyone over 40 as dead and buried so they'd match up just fine (like all-white gym socks thrown together in a drawer.)
I was thinking about the blind date possibility this morning over my coffee. I mentioned the situation to my Mexican friends at the counter of my usual breakfast place and apparently the customer at the end overheard me.
Getting up to leave, the woman, a senior citizen who not long ago was beautiful, tapped me on the arm and said, "After two marriages and two love affairs, I met the love of my life at 50 on a blind date. Then he died and I haven't met anyone since.
"It's one night out of your life. Go!"
At least I could make the call...
Wednesday, February 22, 2006
Thoughts for the day
Random thoughts on a boring Wednesday...
- Is 40 too old to be sending an older brother a birthday card containing the word "fart"?
- USA Channel is featuring an interesting men's Olympic hockey game between the Czech Republic and Slovakia. Whaddya wanna bet these guys shared a backyard fence up until a few years ago?
- The absolute best present for a woman after a bitter divorce battle can be found here.
- Milka and Lindt make the absolute BEST CHOCOLATE EVER!!! This came to mind today because one of my wonderful co-workers (they aren't all wonderful, but this one is) brought me a surfboard-sized slab of Milka from Germany.
- What's the best way to announce the grand re-opening of a newly renovated bedroom? (And try not to get me flagged by the blogger police, will ya??)
- Is 40 too old to be sending an older brother a birthday card containing the word "fart"?
- USA Channel is featuring an interesting men's Olympic hockey game between the Czech Republic and Slovakia. Whaddya wanna bet these guys shared a backyard fence up until a few years ago?
- The absolute best present for a woman after a bitter divorce battle can be found here.
- Milka and Lindt make the absolute BEST CHOCOLATE EVER!!! This came to mind today because one of my wonderful co-workers (they aren't all wonderful, but this one is) brought me a surfboard-sized slab of Milka from Germany.
- What's the best way to announce the grand re-opening of a newly renovated bedroom? (And try not to get me flagged by the blogger police, will ya??)
Tuesday, February 21, 2006
Game on!
Firecracker and I met up with a group of other single gals for a "girls night out" on Friday. The original plan was to attend a singles mixer but that ended up as a bust because the event was an estrogen tsunami with a measly dozen men in attendance.
Ah...spring.
Temperatures go up, hemlines go up, libidos go up. Oh, and it's baseball season. In spring there are endless opportunities, boatloads of potential and no crushed feelings...yet.
At our second (and last) stop of the evening, I saw a potential suitor arrive with his wingman. He had already secured a cocktail and was heading to the middle room of the bar. It's been a while and my form might be rusty but I was willing to step in and take a few swings.
The stats on this guy looked good: over 30, never been married, a bit over 6-feet tall, good smile, nice hair, owns his own home...and he's a lawyer! Wingman jumped in with some Jerry Maguire-like PR, informing me that this guy OWNS the law firm where he works.
"Wow! He hit that one a mile!!"
Okay, so the guy has some money. That's nice. It would be a nice change of pace to date a man who doesn't consider pizza and a movie a "fancy evening." He probably owns more than one suit, too. (So I like my guys to look nice, so sue me!...pardon the pun)
But is that all there is to him?
No.
Is he the endangered species of man known as sports fan?
Yes!
Does he like to travel?
Yes, he owns a boat!
More importantly, is he interested in me or just waiting for something better to walk by??
Um, well...I've never been called a "minx" before. I'll take that as a good sign.
"This guy has future all-star written all over him."
As the night wore on, my friends decided to hang 'em up since the talent pool had diminished significantly. In the other room, the Lawyer became increasingly drunk. Strangely enough, I was sober from the alcohol, but drunk on the attention. Soon, the Lawyer was sitting on a stool with his arms around my waist (yay!! for my sexy, hot, fuzzy sweater!)
"So, I'm 32. How old are you?"
"I'm 40." I answered, backing away a bit to see his reaction.
"That's great. I love older women. I always go out with older women."
"Oooh, hit by the pitch! That's gonna leave a mark."
The evening went downhill from there. It was pretty clear to me that the Lawyer wasn't so much looking to begin a relationship as he was trying to jump-start a booty call.
As a veteran of the game, I know the importance of a good nights' sleep, so I jumped in a cab - alone- and wrote off the evening as good practice for what could be a very exciting season.
Ah...spring.
Temperatures go up, hemlines go up, libidos go up. Oh, and it's baseball season. In spring there are endless opportunities, boatloads of potential and no crushed feelings...yet.
At our second (and last) stop of the evening, I saw a potential suitor arrive with his wingman. He had already secured a cocktail and was heading to the middle room of the bar. It's been a while and my form might be rusty but I was willing to step in and take a few swings.
The stats on this guy looked good: over 30, never been married, a bit over 6-feet tall, good smile, nice hair, owns his own home...and he's a lawyer! Wingman jumped in with some Jerry Maguire-like PR, informing me that this guy OWNS the law firm where he works.
"Wow! He hit that one a mile!!"
Okay, so the guy has some money. That's nice. It would be a nice change of pace to date a man who doesn't consider pizza and a movie a "fancy evening." He probably owns more than one suit, too. (So I like my guys to look nice, so sue me!...pardon the pun)
But is that all there is to him?
No.
Is he the endangered species of man known as sports fan?
Yes!
Does he like to travel?
Yes, he owns a boat!
More importantly, is he interested in me or just waiting for something better to walk by??
Um, well...I've never been called a "minx" before. I'll take that as a good sign.
"This guy has future all-star written all over him."
As the night wore on, my friends decided to hang 'em up since the talent pool had diminished significantly. In the other room, the Lawyer became increasingly drunk. Strangely enough, I was sober from the alcohol, but drunk on the attention. Soon, the Lawyer was sitting on a stool with his arms around my waist (yay!! for my sexy, hot, fuzzy sweater!)
"So, I'm 32. How old are you?"
"I'm 40." I answered, backing away a bit to see his reaction.
"That's great. I love older women. I always go out with older women."
"Oooh, hit by the pitch! That's gonna leave a mark."
The evening went downhill from there. It was pretty clear to me that the Lawyer wasn't so much looking to begin a relationship as he was trying to jump-start a booty call.
As a veteran of the game, I know the importance of a good nights' sleep, so I jumped in a cab - alone- and wrote off the evening as good practice for what could be a very exciting season.
Thursday, February 16, 2006
Don't bet on it
My volleyball team played last night, as they do every Wednesday evening. I'm considering my team participation an additional workout every week and so far its been lots of fun, if not terribly successful (we kinda suck.)
Besides the usual banter on the court, there is usually at least a round of beer and pizza following the game (okay, sometimes BEFORE the game), so it's a nice addition to my somewhat limited social engagements.
My team is made up mostly of single people between the ages of 21-mid 40s and there are eight of us, including one married couple. Two of the single guys (40-somethings) often bemoan their unattached status, so the rest of us try to hook them up. So far, no luck.
One guy (I'll call him Lion King) is always very complimentary on the court ("nice shot") and he does a lot of volunteer work. A very nice guy. He recently broke up with an evil bitch who cheated on him with one of his friends. Surprisingly enough, he's not bitter about it and eager to meet someone new.
I know what you're thinking....why doesn't The Writer flirt with him a bit and see if he's interested??
Two reasons:
1) He smokes, and
2) He's a St. Louis Cardinals fan.
Last night, the post-game conversation turned to baseball and yours truly opened with comments about the Cubs' off-season acquisitions.
Juan Pierre: great.
Jacques Jones: not so much.
Lion King countered with praise for the rat-bastard Cardinals' moves. (okay, he didn't call them rat-bastard. I did.)
He offered to bet me that his team will finish with a better regular season record than my Cubs. Oh, now you're in trouble! Fine, you want to bet me?? Sure, I'll take that bet!
I'm thinking about how much money I would be willing to take from him without seeming greedy. I'm sure I could use an extra $25 or $50 come October.
Lion King says, "Let's bet dinner at a nice restaurant. Loser pays."
Um....what?
Besides the usual banter on the court, there is usually at least a round of beer and pizza following the game (okay, sometimes BEFORE the game), so it's a nice addition to my somewhat limited social engagements.
My team is made up mostly of single people between the ages of 21-mid 40s and there are eight of us, including one married couple. Two of the single guys (40-somethings) often bemoan their unattached status, so the rest of us try to hook them up. So far, no luck.
One guy (I'll call him Lion King) is always very complimentary on the court ("nice shot") and he does a lot of volunteer work. A very nice guy. He recently broke up with an evil bitch who cheated on him with one of his friends. Surprisingly enough, he's not bitter about it and eager to meet someone new.
I know what you're thinking....why doesn't The Writer flirt with him a bit and see if he's interested??
Two reasons:
1) He smokes, and
2) He's a St. Louis Cardinals fan.
Last night, the post-game conversation turned to baseball and yours truly opened with comments about the Cubs' off-season acquisitions.
Juan Pierre: great.
Jacques Jones: not so much.
Lion King countered with praise for the rat-bastard Cardinals' moves. (okay, he didn't call them rat-bastard. I did.)
He offered to bet me that his team will finish with a better regular season record than my Cubs. Oh, now you're in trouble! Fine, you want to bet me?? Sure, I'll take that bet!
I'm thinking about how much money I would be willing to take from him without seeming greedy. I'm sure I could use an extra $25 or $50 come October.
Lion King says, "Let's bet dinner at a nice restaurant. Loser pays."
Um....what?
Wednesday, February 15, 2006
Remodeling plan III: the destruction
I couldn't decide if I should look inside my bedroom while it's under construction, but since I really hate surprises, I had to peek.
Inside I saw a bare cement floor where once had been dingy gray carpeting. A long trench had been cut into the wall to hide the electrical line running from an outlet to my closet. (I still shake my head at my stupidity for allowing that cheap-ass electrician to leave the wire outside the wall, claiming that he couldn't get into the wall.)
The look I'm going for is "beach house." Wood floor and light walls make me think of summer, sun, ocean...all the things I don't have in winter in Chicago.
In three distinct blotches, I had painted varying hues of yellow named, curiously enough Confident, Decisive and Cheerful. The time was quickly approaching when I had to make my color choice.
Confident did not inspire confidence. It looked too much like mustard.
Decisive is nice, but I can't decide.
Cheerful caught my eye originally, but once I put it on the wall, it looked a bit orange. And "cheerful" isn't exactly the mood I want in a bedroom.
Does Sherwin Williams sell a color called "come-up-for-air-in-three-days sex?"
Speaking of my bed, it's become a queen-sized, pillow-topped island in the middle of my living room. Funny how a change in scenery can disrupt a relatively normal bodily function like sleep. I've had a lot of trouble sleeping there this week. Is there anything in the feng shui rules about having my bed face a 27-inch TV?
Inside I saw a bare cement floor where once had been dingy gray carpeting. A long trench had been cut into the wall to hide the electrical line running from an outlet to my closet. (I still shake my head at my stupidity for allowing that cheap-ass electrician to leave the wire outside the wall, claiming that he couldn't get into the wall.)
The look I'm going for is "beach house." Wood floor and light walls make me think of summer, sun, ocean...all the things I don't have in winter in Chicago.
In three distinct blotches, I had painted varying hues of yellow named, curiously enough Confident, Decisive and Cheerful. The time was quickly approaching when I had to make my color choice.
Confident did not inspire confidence. It looked too much like mustard.
Decisive is nice, but I can't decide.
Cheerful caught my eye originally, but once I put it on the wall, it looked a bit orange. And "cheerful" isn't exactly the mood I want in a bedroom.
Does Sherwin Williams sell a color called "come-up-for-air-in-three-days sex?"
Speaking of my bed, it's become a queen-sized, pillow-topped island in the middle of my living room. Funny how a change in scenery can disrupt a relatively normal bodily function like sleep. I've had a lot of trouble sleeping there this week. Is there anything in the feng shui rules about having my bed face a 27-inch TV?
Monday, February 13, 2006
Respect...who gets it and who wants it
CNN has just broadcast the World Series champion White Sox team press conference with President Bush at the White House. Funny thing is, brand-new U.S. citizen and Sox manager Ozzie Guillen chose to stay on vacation with his family and not attend the ceremony.
Another player was on his honeymoon and a third was being feted in his native Japan. Apparently, only 23 of the invited 30 White Sox players chose to attend the festivities.
Respect.
Bush congratulated everyone from the trainers to the announcers (with a playful slam at Ed Farmer, announcer and former White sox pitcher) to Harold Baines, one of the Sox coaches and a former White Sox outfielder.
Bush thanked Harold Baines for always bringing class to the ballpark. Eventually, the president got around to congratulating the actual TEAM.
Respect.
Then CNN cut back to its announcer and she could not name a SINGLE White Sox player. After consulting with the 20 men in her control room, FINALLY her director named Jermaine Dye and Paul Konerko.
Respect.
Pitchers and catchers report to Spring Training on Wednesday!
Another player was on his honeymoon and a third was being feted in his native Japan. Apparently, only 23 of the invited 30 White Sox players chose to attend the festivities.
Respect.
Bush congratulated everyone from the trainers to the announcers (with a playful slam at Ed Farmer, announcer and former White sox pitcher) to Harold Baines, one of the Sox coaches and a former White Sox outfielder.
Bush thanked Harold Baines for always bringing class to the ballpark. Eventually, the president got around to congratulating the actual TEAM.
Respect.
Then CNN cut back to its announcer and she could not name a SINGLE White Sox player. After consulting with the 20 men in her control room, FINALLY her director named Jermaine Dye and Paul Konerko.
Respect.
Pitchers and catchers report to Spring Training on Wednesday!
Tuesday, February 07, 2006
Stirrups but no cowboy
So there I am at my gyno's office for my 'poke n' prod.' This is my first appointment with him since I spotted him at my gym. Is he going to mention it? And if he does, will he be able to resuscitate me when I faint from embarassment??
Since I haven't been his patient for too long, there has never been a "full exam" in his office...till now.
Exactly how do you have a friendly conversation with a cute, single man whose hands are on your breasts and one of you has entirely too many clothes on??? Apparently, you keep the topic to purely medical things.
He's not a sports fan (we'd already established this), but we did a bit of banter on the Super Bowl while he gave me a pelvic. Oh yay!
So far, so good.
He asked about my plans for Spring Training and I explained that Firecracker and I have everything all set. Although he's not a sports fan, he does love to go to games at Wrigley Field. (Oh great! Another place to run into him.)
At the end of the appointment, he mentioned that if all of the tests are normal, I can go back to my yearly appointments instead of the half-yearly ones we've been having the last 18 months or so.
"Yep, seeing each other every six months, people could begin to talk," I joked. He laughed!
"Well, guess I'll see you next year," I said, anticipating normal test results.
"Actually, you might see me more often than that. You work out at that Multiplex, right?"
I tried to act surprised as I looked into his huge cornflower blue eyes, "Um, yeah."
"Yeah, I've seen you there."
OMG, does this mean I have to talk to him when I see him at the gym?!?! Are we going to be workout buddies or something?!?!?
Since I haven't been his patient for too long, there has never been a "full exam" in his office...till now.
Exactly how do you have a friendly conversation with a cute, single man whose hands are on your breasts and one of you has entirely too many clothes on??? Apparently, you keep the topic to purely medical things.
He's not a sports fan (we'd already established this), but we did a bit of banter on the Super Bowl while he gave me a pelvic. Oh yay!
So far, so good.
He asked about my plans for Spring Training and I explained that Firecracker and I have everything all set. Although he's not a sports fan, he does love to go to games at Wrigley Field. (Oh great! Another place to run into him.)
At the end of the appointment, he mentioned that if all of the tests are normal, I can go back to my yearly appointments instead of the half-yearly ones we've been having the last 18 months or so.
"Yep, seeing each other every six months, people could begin to talk," I joked. He laughed!
"Well, guess I'll see you next year," I said, anticipating normal test results.
"Actually, you might see me more often than that. You work out at that Multiplex, right?"
I tried to act surprised as I looked into his huge cornflower blue eyes, "Um, yeah."
"Yeah, I've seen you there."
OMG, does this mean I have to talk to him when I see him at the gym?!?! Are we going to be workout buddies or something?!?!?
Monday, February 06, 2006
Beer, chili, football and lip gloss
Like I always say, if you're not tired on Monday, you didn't have a good weekend...
Action Girl and J graciously hosted a Super Bowl party in their fabulous newly finished basement with tons of food and drink and wonderfully fun and interesting people. Of course, I parked my keister on the front-row-for-football-action sofa and watched the game.
In a scene that told more about today's women than any article I've read lately, the sofa was entirely populated by WOMEN!! And we were watching the game! Understanding and enjoying the football game! Firecracker, Cat and other women joined the party (okay, there were guys there too) and we had a great time, chowing down chili and sipping beers. A regular guys' night out.
What were the guys doing while the game was on?? Mostly throwing darts and drinking shots. Maybe their lack of interest was due to the fact that most of the guys were not American, but I'm not sure.
Yes, the emotional girly side of us did emerge during some of the commercial breaks, especially during one Budweiser commercial (what is it with the beer companies that they usually have the BEST commercials??).
For me, it was the Bud commercial with the baby Clysdale trying to pull the beer cart. (I won't tell you how it turns out, in case you haven't seen it.)
And props!! to Dove Soap for making a thoughtful ad about a serious subject (the body image difficulties faced by young girls). Maybe they knew about the population of our sofa??
Oh, and Pittsburgh won what turned out to be a pretty lackluster Super Bowl game. The highlight for me was local boy Antwaan Randle El serving up that touchdown pass on the reverse to seal the Seahawks' coffin. Guess it's no surprise that he was a quarterback in high school and college.
So that was then, this is now.
My Monday will come to a close with a check-up appointment with my doctor. Yep, this will be the first meeting since I saw him at my gym. If he mentions it, I think I'll just pass out (that's the only girly thing to do, right?)
Action Girl and J graciously hosted a Super Bowl party in their fabulous newly finished basement with tons of food and drink and wonderfully fun and interesting people. Of course, I parked my keister on the front-row-for-football-action sofa and watched the game.
In a scene that told more about today's women than any article I've read lately, the sofa was entirely populated by WOMEN!! And we were watching the game! Understanding and enjoying the football game! Firecracker, Cat and other women joined the party (okay, there were guys there too) and we had a great time, chowing down chili and sipping beers. A regular guys' night out.
What were the guys doing while the game was on?? Mostly throwing darts and drinking shots. Maybe their lack of interest was due to the fact that most of the guys were not American, but I'm not sure.
Yes, the emotional girly side of us did emerge during some of the commercial breaks, especially during one Budweiser commercial (what is it with the beer companies that they usually have the BEST commercials??).
For me, it was the Bud commercial with the baby Clysdale trying to pull the beer cart. (I won't tell you how it turns out, in case you haven't seen it.)
And props!! to Dove Soap for making a thoughtful ad about a serious subject (the body image difficulties faced by young girls). Maybe they knew about the population of our sofa??
Oh, and Pittsburgh won what turned out to be a pretty lackluster Super Bowl game. The highlight for me was local boy Antwaan Randle El serving up that touchdown pass on the reverse to seal the Seahawks' coffin. Guess it's no surprise that he was a quarterback in high school and college.
So that was then, this is now.
My Monday will come to a close with a check-up appointment with my doctor. Yep, this will be the first meeting since I saw him at my gym. If he mentions it, I think I'll just pass out (that's the only girly thing to do, right?)
Thursday, February 02, 2006
A date
How many cups of coffee can I drink before I get the shakes??
That's the question of the day as I struggle to keep my eyes open after a 9:30 volleyball game last night. We lost, but I played pretty well but definitely have room for improvement. Turns out, we have at least 3 games scheduled for 9:30 this season. Geez! Who did we piss off??
Volleyball was last night, but I was already tired from a late night the evening prior. And, no, it wasn't anything fun. I attended a committee meeting that ended around 11 pm (and it was held about 40 minutes from home). When I got home, I beat my head against the wall for a few minutes to knock out the residual frustration from the meeting.
This committe organizes an auction that takes place during a charity event for a local non-profit group. Problem is, the committee is chaired by a chick who is either a) bi-polar, or b) an idiot, or c) both.
In one conversation, she argued two completely different opinions - -both of them hers! I can't help but shake my head as I remember some of our discussions
So, after all of this craziness, what's in store for me tonight? Tonight I have a date, sort of.
Actually, my ass has a date with my sofa! Is 7 pm too early to put on my pajamas??
That's the question of the day as I struggle to keep my eyes open after a 9:30 volleyball game last night. We lost, but I played pretty well but definitely have room for improvement. Turns out, we have at least 3 games scheduled for 9:30 this season. Geez! Who did we piss off??
Volleyball was last night, but I was already tired from a late night the evening prior. And, no, it wasn't anything fun. I attended a committee meeting that ended around 11 pm (and it was held about 40 minutes from home). When I got home, I beat my head against the wall for a few minutes to knock out the residual frustration from the meeting.
This committe organizes an auction that takes place during a charity event for a local non-profit group. Problem is, the committee is chaired by a chick who is either a) bi-polar, or b) an idiot, or c) both.
In one conversation, she argued two completely different opinions - -both of them hers! I can't help but shake my head as I remember some of our discussions
So, after all of this craziness, what's in store for me tonight? Tonight I have a date, sort of.
Actually, my ass has a date with my sofa! Is 7 pm too early to put on my pajamas??
Wednesday, February 01, 2006
Is it spring yet??
Pitchers and catchers report to Spring Training two weeks from today.
Me and Firecracker report on March 3!
Yay!
Me and Firecracker report on March 3!
Yay!
Monday, January 30, 2006
No map required
There's something to be said for feeling like a local...especially when you're not. For me, my vacations are not considered 'successful' until I know my surroundings, when I feel comfortable walking around without a map. My shining moment in Australia came when I was strolling down a side street in the Rocks neighborhood in Sydney and a woman stopped me to ask for directions.
Me?!?! The little tourist girl from Chicago??? And YES!!! I was able to tell her how to get to the hotel she was trying to find. I was pretty proud of myself and felt even more comfortable in my "home away from home" that is Australia.
How strange is it that a city on the other side of the planet feels more like home to me than one just 2 hours' flight away?
By the time Firecracker and I left New York last weekend, I had a small measure of comfort in knowing my way around. I mean, terms like "Upper West Side" and "the Village" held meaning for me, a significant difference from the week before.
But it wasn't until I was watching an old episode of "Sex & the City" that I realized that New York isn't as foreign to me as it had once been. Carrie Bradshaw was having an affair with a married Mr. Big and they had a rendezvous at a trashy hotel. Carrie figured that their anonymity was assured since no one would know them down there (at 58th and 7th).
AND I RECOGNIZED THE LOCATION!
Okay, I didn't know exactly which hotel they were talking about, but I had to smile because I knew that 58th and 7th is near Times Square.
Small world.
And I'm getting to know more and more of it all the time.
Me?!?! The little tourist girl from Chicago??? And YES!!! I was able to tell her how to get to the hotel she was trying to find. I was pretty proud of myself and felt even more comfortable in my "home away from home" that is Australia.
How strange is it that a city on the other side of the planet feels more like home to me than one just 2 hours' flight away?
By the time Firecracker and I left New York last weekend, I had a small measure of comfort in knowing my way around. I mean, terms like "Upper West Side" and "the Village" held meaning for me, a significant difference from the week before.
But it wasn't until I was watching an old episode of "Sex & the City" that I realized that New York isn't as foreign to me as it had once been. Carrie Bradshaw was having an affair with a married Mr. Big and they had a rendezvous at a trashy hotel. Carrie figured that their anonymity was assured since no one would know them down there (at 58th and 7th).
AND I RECOGNIZED THE LOCATION!
Okay, I didn't know exactly which hotel they were talking about, but I had to smile because I knew that 58th and 7th is near Times Square.
Small world.
And I'm getting to know more and more of it all the time.
Monday, January 23, 2006
Taking a bite out of the Big Apple
After a short, but much-needed snooze, I awoke blurry eyed and looked out the window to see water and an emerging skyline. Sydney!! My heart started to race and I rubbed my eyes and looked for the icons of the Australian city, the Opera House and the Bridge. Confused, I didn't recognize any buildings and as I slowly became more awake, I realized my flight had not carried me around the world, but just across to the East Coast and it was New York's skyline outside my window.
That was my first and last moment of disappointment during my weekend in New York with Firecracker.
Escargot (thanks to Firecracker for introducing me to new gourmet opportunity), champagne, French food and friendly waves, honks and smiles from random New York men got the weekend off to a rousing start.
New and wonderful foods - - check!
After a Saturday morning breakfast of carbs and Starbucks, we wrestled through the Times Square crowds (damned tourists!!!) to the Times Square info booth where we purchased matinee tickets to "Avenue Q," billed as an adult Sesame Street. Hmmn?!?!
Tickets to Broadway show - - check!
Central Park was next on our list for Saturday afternoon activities. We strolled over hills and past picturesque ponds, stopping at a carousel to sip our teas and soak in the atmosphere that most locals probably take for granted.
Although the weather was cooperating, time was not. Our matinee time was approaching - - not quickly- - but we didn't want to rush our excursion back to the hotel. So, at 76th Street we said goodbye to Central Park and turned onto Central Park West for the trip "home."
Paramount Pictures was working on some movie scenes on the West Side so we stopped to gape, but since we didn't recognize any movie stars, we kept walking. Past Tavern on the Green, through Columbus Circle (resisting the opportunity to stop and shop), and past a long line of wannabees waiting in the cold for a chance to be the next "Top Model."
In a very Carrie Bradshow-ish move, I wore only 3-inch heels during my stay in the Big Apple (and my lower back and calves are screaming at me for it)!
Spend a beautiful Saturday afternoon in Central Park, looking as stylish as possible - - check!
Felt-faced characters with human arms shoved up their rumps sang songs about racism and homosexuality and actually "got it on" at one point during "Avenue Q." What a unique, funny and bizarre show made that much better by the drinks we had before the show started.
My favorite characters were the Bad Idea Bears. When you don't have much money, but buy a case of beer instead of paying the phone bill - - blame the Bad Idea Bears. I'm all over that!!! Where were these guys when I was getting married?!?! That was TOTALLY their idea!
But I digress...
After the show, Firecracker and I did a bit of unsuccessful shopping and headed back to the hotel empty-handed. Exhausted from the hike in Central Park and the show, Firecracker started to doze off.
NO!!!!!! It was my last night in New York (I said rather dramatically, as if I were a lifelong Manhattanite being exiled to Kansas City!) She stirred and soon we were making our way to a quaint little Italian restaurant not too far away.
Four courses of Italian food with wine accompaniments and music from a three-piece jazz band rekindled our adventurous spirit. Add to that the plan to join Firecracker's second-cousin and his roommate for drinks and we were ready to rock.
Firecracker and I were treated to probably the best evening either of us have had in months! And I DO mean treated! Wonderful gentlemen that they are, Cuz'n and his roommate paid for taxis, cover charges and drinks all evening! We had to argue with them to be allowed to buy a round! Too bad they were 1) family, and 2) in their mid 20s!
At one point in the evening, I was approached by a short, curly-haired guy who wanted to ask us some questions. Apparently, he was representing two unseen friends who wanted to dance with us. The deal, as offered, was that if I answered the questions correctly, the mystery friends would buy us a drink. If not, we had to dance with them for three songs.
How's YOUR math? Um, ONE drink or THREE dances?!?!? I don't think so (I may have been drinking, but I'm not stupid.) My curiousity got the best of me and I had to know the questions.
Dead brain cells prevent me from remembering the first question (which I guess I actually got right), but the second one was "What's the capital of Montana?"
"Helena."
"Um, okay. I have a tissue in my pocket and if I fold it up, how many times can I fold it?
"Well, if it's square, I think you can only fold it eight times."
Since we didn't technically have a deal, I got screwed out of a free drink. Yeah, whatever. I smiled, shook my head and walked by to our gang.
Totally inappropriate guys trying to pick us up - - check!
The taxi dropped us off at our hotel and both Firecracker and I were shocked to discover that was 4:15 in the blessed AM!?!?!? And we were both flying home later that day!
Clubbing till all hours in Greenwich Village - - check!
I'll have to get to work on a new list of "Things to Do" for the next trip - - Arizona!!! for Spring Training in 39 days!!!
That was my first and last moment of disappointment during my weekend in New York with Firecracker.
Escargot (thanks to Firecracker for introducing me to new gourmet opportunity), champagne, French food and friendly waves, honks and smiles from random New York men got the weekend off to a rousing start.
New and wonderful foods - - check!
After a Saturday morning breakfast of carbs and Starbucks, we wrestled through the Times Square crowds (damned tourists!!!) to the Times Square info booth where we purchased matinee tickets to "Avenue Q," billed as an adult Sesame Street. Hmmn?!?!
Tickets to Broadway show - - check!
Central Park was next on our list for Saturday afternoon activities. We strolled over hills and past picturesque ponds, stopping at a carousel to sip our teas and soak in the atmosphere that most locals probably take for granted.
Although the weather was cooperating, time was not. Our matinee time was approaching - - not quickly- - but we didn't want to rush our excursion back to the hotel. So, at 76th Street we said goodbye to Central Park and turned onto Central Park West for the trip "home."
Paramount Pictures was working on some movie scenes on the West Side so we stopped to gape, but since we didn't recognize any movie stars, we kept walking. Past Tavern on the Green, through Columbus Circle (resisting the opportunity to stop and shop), and past a long line of wannabees waiting in the cold for a chance to be the next "Top Model."
In a very Carrie Bradshow-ish move, I wore only 3-inch heels during my stay in the Big Apple (and my lower back and calves are screaming at me for it)!
Spend a beautiful Saturday afternoon in Central Park, looking as stylish as possible - - check!
Felt-faced characters with human arms shoved up their rumps sang songs about racism and homosexuality and actually "got it on" at one point during "Avenue Q." What a unique, funny and bizarre show made that much better by the drinks we had before the show started.
My favorite characters were the Bad Idea Bears. When you don't have much money, but buy a case of beer instead of paying the phone bill - - blame the Bad Idea Bears. I'm all over that!!! Where were these guys when I was getting married?!?! That was TOTALLY their idea!
But I digress...
After the show, Firecracker and I did a bit of unsuccessful shopping and headed back to the hotel empty-handed. Exhausted from the hike in Central Park and the show, Firecracker started to doze off.
NO!!!!!! It was my last night in New York (I said rather dramatically, as if I were a lifelong Manhattanite being exiled to Kansas City!) She stirred and soon we were making our way to a quaint little Italian restaurant not too far away.
Four courses of Italian food with wine accompaniments and music from a three-piece jazz band rekindled our adventurous spirit. Add to that the plan to join Firecracker's second-cousin and his roommate for drinks and we were ready to rock.
Firecracker and I were treated to probably the best evening either of us have had in months! And I DO mean treated! Wonderful gentlemen that they are, Cuz'n and his roommate paid for taxis, cover charges and drinks all evening! We had to argue with them to be allowed to buy a round! Too bad they were 1) family, and 2) in their mid 20s!
At one point in the evening, I was approached by a short, curly-haired guy who wanted to ask us some questions. Apparently, he was representing two unseen friends who wanted to dance with us. The deal, as offered, was that if I answered the questions correctly, the mystery friends would buy us a drink. If not, we had to dance with them for three songs.
How's YOUR math? Um, ONE drink or THREE dances?!?!? I don't think so (I may have been drinking, but I'm not stupid.) My curiousity got the best of me and I had to know the questions.
Dead brain cells prevent me from remembering the first question (which I guess I actually got right), but the second one was "What's the capital of Montana?"
"Helena."
"Um, okay. I have a tissue in my pocket and if I fold it up, how many times can I fold it?
"Well, if it's square, I think you can only fold it eight times."
Since we didn't technically have a deal, I got screwed out of a free drink. Yeah, whatever. I smiled, shook my head and walked by to our gang.
Totally inappropriate guys trying to pick us up - - check!
The taxi dropped us off at our hotel and both Firecracker and I were shocked to discover that was 4:15 in the blessed AM!?!?!? And we were both flying home later that day!
Clubbing till all hours in Greenwich Village - - check!
I'll have to get to work on a new list of "Things to Do" for the next trip - - Arizona!!! for Spring Training in 39 days!!!
Thursday, January 19, 2006
Remodeling plan III: the estimates
I received Cub Man's estimate and I'm glad I sat down before reading it.
$300 for painting a bunch of cubes?!?!?!? Is he Rembrandt or what? Maybe he's painting them with his toes.
That's just the cosmetic part of the quote. There's also the actual construction and, of course, the materials. His estimate was more than my mortgage payment plus assessments!
I thought he stopped screwing me years ago! Is he such a jerk that he's going to let his financial situation get in the way of our friendship? (At least I THOUGHT we were friends!)
My disappointment in his character weighed heavy on me, but at the same time, it didn't ring true. I shook my head, knowing there was something missing here. It would be out of character for him to try to cheat me (or anyone, for that matter).
But I know enough to know what I don't know, so like any good consumer, I got a second opinion.
With fortuitous timing, my contractor (Polish Boy) called and we talked about the proposed storage unit. I gave him the specifics that Cub Man had offered (materials used, type of joints, etc.) and asked him for a ballpark figure.
I breathed a sigh of relief that my faith in mankind hadn't been misplaced. PB would charge me more than Cub Man to manufacture the same cabinet.
PB's estimate for the floor installation, closet replacement, electrical work and wall painting arrived the following day.
Sometimes I think there's a special demon that periodically steps in and fucks up my seemingly simple plans. My condo complex was designed in the mid 40s by an architect who had apparently gone off his medications. His insanity was going to cost me money. No doubt about it.
Examples of his eccentricities:
Although the estimate came in under my worst-case scenario, I think I'll hold off on the celebration as I anticipate hiccups in the remodeling process.
I'll sign the contracts with PB next week and hand over a fistful of $$ so we can get started.
Cub Man, however, has not responded to my offer to take him up on his estimate provided it includes delivery. We'll see where that goes.
$300 for painting a bunch of cubes?!?!?!? Is he Rembrandt or what? Maybe he's painting them with his toes.
That's just the cosmetic part of the quote. There's also the actual construction and, of course, the materials. His estimate was more than my mortgage payment plus assessments!
I thought he stopped screwing me years ago! Is he such a jerk that he's going to let his financial situation get in the way of our friendship? (At least I THOUGHT we were friends!)
My disappointment in his character weighed heavy on me, but at the same time, it didn't ring true. I shook my head, knowing there was something missing here. It would be out of character for him to try to cheat me (or anyone, for that matter).
But I know enough to know what I don't know, so like any good consumer, I got a second opinion.
With fortuitous timing, my contractor (Polish Boy) called and we talked about the proposed storage unit. I gave him the specifics that Cub Man had offered (materials used, type of joints, etc.) and asked him for a ballpark figure.
I breathed a sigh of relief that my faith in mankind hadn't been misplaced. PB would charge me more than Cub Man to manufacture the same cabinet.
PB's estimate for the floor installation, closet replacement, electrical work and wall painting arrived the following day.
Sometimes I think there's a special demon that periodically steps in and fucks up my seemingly simple plans. My condo complex was designed in the mid 40s by an architect who had apparently gone off his medications. His insanity was going to cost me money. No doubt about it.
Examples of his eccentricities:
- The opening for my bedroom closet is not standard height nor is it standard width (resulting in my need for CUSTOM-MADE closet doors). If it were the contents of my closet that needed to be custom made, I could handle that.
- My closet had no lighting when I moved in (yep, no lights in the closet), so I had an electrician do a shitty makeshift job. PB will fix this so it no longer looks like Section 8 housing.
- My bathroom door is only 26 inches wide so another custom job will be required when I scrape together enough cash to remodel my bathroom.
- Another bathroom gem that surprised even PB: there is a heat vent under the sink, inside the wood vanity cabinet. I must say that it's an unexpected bonus to reach under the cabinet for body lotion only to receive a hot oil treatment.
Although the estimate came in under my worst-case scenario, I think I'll hold off on the celebration as I anticipate hiccups in the remodeling process.
I'll sign the contracts with PB next week and hand over a fistful of $$ so we can get started.
Cub Man, however, has not responded to my offer to take him up on his estimate provided it includes delivery. We'll see where that goes.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)