This Saturday is the Peace Ball!
I heard that Councilman Samuels is going to do some singing...
Tuesday, October 9, 2007
Peace Ball 2007
Sunday, October 7, 2007
Yeah, I did it.
I made a new blog for the new house: http://thehealyhouse.blogspot.com/
I'm not abandoning this one just yet, as I still do have the house over north, and stuff still happens there, and, well, I've grown attached.
But I felt like it was somehow wrong to post news about the new house on the blog of the older house...
So there ya have it. I am now in two places at once.
I'm not abandoning this one just yet, as I still do have the house over north, and stuff still happens there, and, well, I've grown attached.
But I felt like it was somehow wrong to post news about the new house on the blog of the older house...
So there ya have it. I am now in two places at once.
Friday, October 5, 2007
Thursday, October 4, 2007
Monday, October 1, 2007
A new house to be a-bloggin'?
Alright people, hopefully I haven't annoyed you TOO much with my vague and foggy references to a new house that might or might not become the Rantys' new abode.
I've been deliberately sketchy about the details for the simple reason that I was afraid it wouldn't go through, and I didn't want to have to address a bunch of people asking "Hey! What's up with the new digs?!" for the next six months if in fact we weren't able to purchase the place.
Howevahhhhh....
I now believe it's going to happen. Our loan+appraisal came back okay(!) from underwriting today. The appraisal was an X factor for reasons unrelated to dollar value. (I will explain this appraisal situation in a later post, since I'm still doing some research about the particular problem we encountered, and want to be able to describe it clearly and accurately.)
Anyway, it's important to note that the deal is not done until it's CLOSED. Stuff can still come up, go wrong, get screwy, etc. The difference is that we are now over BIGGEST hurdle, and I feel pretty comfortable that I can deal with whatever standard pre-closing blips might come our way in the remaining days. (And I am treating this Friday close as a maybe. I wouldn't be at all surprised if it ended up getting pushed to Tuesday. We are cutting it SUPER close to get all the documents in order in four days!)
Now then, because I cannot contain my excitement one minute longer, and because no one guessed in my super-difficult trivia-about-the-house post, I have decided to reveal The Future Seat of Rantydom, in all its broken-down-reposessed-squirrel-inhabited-splennnndor:
So if all goes as planned, I'll be back to official house-blogging sooooooooooon! Hooray!
I've been deliberately sketchy about the details for the simple reason that I was afraid it wouldn't go through, and I didn't want to have to address a bunch of people asking "Hey! What's up with the new digs?!" for the next six months if in fact we weren't able to purchase the place.
Howevahhhhh....
I now believe it's going to happen. Our loan+appraisal came back okay(!) from underwriting today. The appraisal was an X factor for reasons unrelated to dollar value. (I will explain this appraisal situation in a later post, since I'm still doing some research about the particular problem we encountered, and want to be able to describe it clearly and accurately.)
Anyway, it's important to note that the deal is not done until it's CLOSED. Stuff can still come up, go wrong, get screwy, etc. The difference is that we are now over BIGGEST hurdle, and I feel pretty comfortable that I can deal with whatever standard pre-closing blips might come our way in the remaining days. (And I am treating this Friday close as a maybe. I wouldn't be at all surprised if it ended up getting pushed to Tuesday. We are cutting it SUPER close to get all the documents in order in four days!)
Now then, because I cannot contain my excitement one minute longer, and because no one guessed in my super-difficult trivia-about-the-house post, I have decided to reveal The Future Seat of Rantydom, in all its broken-down-reposessed-squirrel-inhabited-splennnndor:
So if all goes as planned, I'll be back to official house-blogging sooooooooooon! Hooray!
Sunday, September 30, 2007
Tomorrow, tomorrow, I love ya, tomorrow....
Tomorrow we should know* if we get to buy the craptastic-est house evar.
Wish us luck!
*Yeah, I know I said that last Wednesday and then again last Friday... but considering the fact that we're scheduled to close THIS COMING FRIDAY I'd say that Monday is probably the absolute-latest we can hear back about the appraisal without killing the deal.
But then again, crazy things happen every day in the wonderful world of real estate...
Saturday, September 29, 2007
A Devine-Condo-Bling-Birthday Bash
Thursday, September 27, 2007
What should Ranty DO?????????
***WARNING! WARNING! WARNING!***
***LONG, RAMBLING, SERIOUS POST AHEAD!***
Dear Readers:
Have you ever known a family with problems?
No, I don't mean that family where the one kid rebelled, coloring his hair black and piercing everything before heading off to college, nor even the family where the daughter got pregnant at 16 and the dad collected uneployment and drank too much, and everyone on the block talked about them behind their backs...
I mean a family for whom you actually felt afraid.
I guess maybe the question should be re-phrased... have you ever known a family about which you felt extreme concern and considered DOING something about?
Okay wait - here's a third way to put it:
When do you go beyond "tsk-ing" at other peoples' problems and actually intervene in some measureable way, even if it means calling the police, child protection, or something else?
Yeah, I know, you have no idea what I'm talking about...
So, I'll tell you a little story and maybe you can help me figure out what to do, if anything.
*
THE CAST
The matriarch is Grandma. Grandma is always very nice to me. We talk a few times a week, mostly when I visit her at her home. (No she's not my tenant, I just know her.)
When I met Grandma, she had four grandchildren in her household: two boys and two girls. The eldest boy, who I'll call "William" is near 18, and like a father to the younger kids. He's without a doubt the most thoughtful, responsible person in the household. He likes to work on cars, and developed a sort of (masculine) crush on the Good Scientist very early on, since they share this interest.
The younger boy, who I'll call "Rob," is an asshole. It's probably part due to his age, which I'd put at about 13. He's barely ever around, and when he is, he's incredibly rude to his family, and embodies the gangbanger stereotype, not only in costume but in mannerisms, including a propensity to shout profanities and racial slurs at his "friends," no matter who's around to hear.
The two smallest children are the girls. They are 6 and 4. (I'll just call them "the girls" because I can't think of any good pseudonyms for them.) They are sweet, curious children, but developmentally behind. (The 6-year-old completed kindergarten last year, but still cannot sing the A-B-C song. The 4-year-old speaks like a 2-year-old.)
There is one other on-again-off-again member of this household, and she is Grandma's daughter, as well as mother of the two girls. (Let's call her Yasmin.)
THE STORY
Grandma doesn't work, because she's caring for the children. She spends most of her day drinking and talking on the phone to people about what stuff is costing her and how she doesn't have enough money.
William goes to high school, and spends his time afterwards working on cars and watching out for the little girls. He tries to watch out for Rob too, but they usually just end up arguing and Rob stomps off to hang out with his friends.
Yasmin is usally out of the picture, since she spends most of her time in jail for crack. Every now and then, however, she gets out... and shit gets WAY worse...
... like recently. Here's what happened:
Yasmin came home from jail last spring.
Her two little girls were so elated!!! They wanted to spend every minute hugging her and playing with her... but Yasmin had other things on her mind, it seems. She proceeded to spend the next couple of months either a) holed up in her room, (was she smoking??? I don't know!) or b) out with male friends. She never got a job, and didn't do much of anything for the kids.
Rob remained gone most of the time.
William moved up north for the summer to work on cars at his uncle's place.
The little girls languished without interaction, as Grandma sat on the phone with her booze, and mom was like a ghost - not really there, even when she was there.
On my regular visits to their home, I often found the girls lounging on the dirt yard, playing with such inappropriate items as: toxic markers; a staple gun; and handfuls of raw ground meat. They were often in various states of undress.
The summer waned on, and in spite of my fumbling attempts to assist the family in procuring summer care for (at least) the girls, nothing really changed.
Recently, things got even worse.
I noticed that Yasmin disappeared. I assumed she was back in jail, and Grandma confirmed this in our most recent conversation. While this alone would not surprise me now, the accompanying tale she told me DID:
Grandma said that Yasmin had gotten picked up on a warrant, (For what this time - I didn't ask) and that she was ordered to the workhouse for 36 days. Grandma pleaded with the appropriate powers to let Yasmin turn herself in a week later, because that was when William was coming back from up north, and could help take over for Yasmin in helping Grandma with Rob and the girls.
That request was granted.
William's return overlapped by a day or so with Yasmin's scheduled departure.
They got into a fight.
Yasmin threw one of the two pots of boiling water (which Grandma keeps on the stove for humidity) at William and burned him. When she reached for the second pot, William threw himself at her and held her tightly, arms at her sides. (As Grandma recounts, anyway.)
Yasmin started screaming, struggled free, and proceeded to call the police, alleging attempted strangulation. When the police arrived, Yasmin (again, according to Grandma,) feigned injury, moaning and groaning and pinching her neck to show how William had tried to kill her.
William was subsequently picked up, brought to juvenile detention, and tried on assault charges.
Yasmin reiterated her story before the judge, while Grandma testified to the contrary.
William was sent to a local detention camp for 12 months. (And then Yasmin missed her turn-in date and got almost another year herself.)
THE FINALE
As I stood there the other day with Grandma, listening to this story, I couldn't help but ponder the veracity of her words. The truth is that I don't know what to believe, from any of these guys. I have caught the girls lying to me on a number of ocassions, and I know that it's a learned behavior. I am filled with doubt and uncertainty whenever I talk to any of them...
But there I was, frozen, listening to Grandma, watching as the tears filled her eyes and slowly began to spill over. She kept talking, feverishly, as they dripped from her chin, staining her rumpled shirt. I listened dumbly... numbly... encapsulated in the sad halo of her alcohol-breath, unable to form a thought apart from discomfort at the expanding gassy-bubble of hatred ascending from my gut, on whose surface was the face... of Yasmin.
It was then, as I stood there fighting my discomfort, that Grandma produced the sickening *cherry, brilliant in it's horrifying simplicity, atop this veritable sundae of disfunction:
She said to me: (and I paraphrase)
Yeah, and that's why all them cars been comin' up in here, I know you seen 'em and you don't approve, and I'm gonna stop, cuz you know I know it's bad for me with my asthma, but I just can't handle all a this, and I need me some weed an that stuff too, you know... to relax myself.
.
.
.
.
.
SO.
Should I do anything???? Say anything???? To anybody or nobody??? And if yes, what??? To whom???
Help!
I'm getting an ulcer thinking about all of this - especially those little girls.
*Bad sundae metaphor idea stolen from Jeremy at Afterglide.
***LONG, RAMBLING, SERIOUS POST AHEAD!***
Dear Readers:
Have you ever known a family with problems?
No, I don't mean that family where the one kid rebelled, coloring his hair black and piercing everything before heading off to college, nor even the family where the daughter got pregnant at 16 and the dad collected uneployment and drank too much, and everyone on the block talked about them behind their backs...
I mean a family for whom you actually felt afraid.
I guess maybe the question should be re-phrased... have you ever known a family about which you felt extreme concern and considered DOING something about?
Okay wait - here's a third way to put it:
When do you go beyond "tsk-ing" at other peoples' problems and actually intervene in some measureable way, even if it means calling the police, child protection, or something else?
Yeah, I know, you have no idea what I'm talking about...
So, I'll tell you a little story and maybe you can help me figure out what to do, if anything.
*
THE CAST
The matriarch is Grandma. Grandma is always very nice to me. We talk a few times a week, mostly when I visit her at her home. (No she's not my tenant, I just know her.)
When I met Grandma, she had four grandchildren in her household: two boys and two girls. The eldest boy, who I'll call "William" is near 18, and like a father to the younger kids. He's without a doubt the most thoughtful, responsible person in the household. He likes to work on cars, and developed a sort of (masculine) crush on the Good Scientist very early on, since they share this interest.
The younger boy, who I'll call "Rob," is an asshole. It's probably part due to his age, which I'd put at about 13. He's barely ever around, and when he is, he's incredibly rude to his family, and embodies the gangbanger stereotype, not only in costume but in mannerisms, including a propensity to shout profanities and racial slurs at his "friends," no matter who's around to hear.
The two smallest children are the girls. They are 6 and 4. (I'll just call them "the girls" because I can't think of any good pseudonyms for them.) They are sweet, curious children, but developmentally behind. (The 6-year-old completed kindergarten last year, but still cannot sing the A-B-C song. The 4-year-old speaks like a 2-year-old.)
There is one other on-again-off-again member of this household, and she is Grandma's daughter, as well as mother of the two girls. (Let's call her Yasmin.)
THE STORY
Grandma doesn't work, because she's caring for the children. She spends most of her day drinking and talking on the phone to people about what stuff is costing her and how she doesn't have enough money.
William goes to high school, and spends his time afterwards working on cars and watching out for the little girls. He tries to watch out for Rob too, but they usually just end up arguing and Rob stomps off to hang out with his friends.
Yasmin is usally out of the picture, since she spends most of her time in jail for crack. Every now and then, however, she gets out... and shit gets WAY worse...
... like recently. Here's what happened:
Yasmin came home from jail last spring.
Her two little girls were so elated!!! They wanted to spend every minute hugging her and playing with her... but Yasmin had other things on her mind, it seems. She proceeded to spend the next couple of months either a) holed up in her room, (was she smoking??? I don't know!) or b) out with male friends. She never got a job, and didn't do much of anything for the kids.
Rob remained gone most of the time.
William moved up north for the summer to work on cars at his uncle's place.
The little girls languished without interaction, as Grandma sat on the phone with her booze, and mom was like a ghost - not really there, even when she was there.
On my regular visits to their home, I often found the girls lounging on the dirt yard, playing with such inappropriate items as: toxic markers; a staple gun; and handfuls of raw ground meat. They were often in various states of undress.
The summer waned on, and in spite of my fumbling attempts to assist the family in procuring summer care for (at least) the girls, nothing really changed.
Recently, things got even worse.
I noticed that Yasmin disappeared. I assumed she was back in jail, and Grandma confirmed this in our most recent conversation. While this alone would not surprise me now, the accompanying tale she told me DID:
Grandma said that Yasmin had gotten picked up on a warrant, (For what this time - I didn't ask) and that she was ordered to the workhouse for 36 days. Grandma pleaded with the appropriate powers to let Yasmin turn herself in a week later, because that was when William was coming back from up north, and could help take over for Yasmin in helping Grandma with Rob and the girls.
That request was granted.
William's return overlapped by a day or so with Yasmin's scheduled departure.
They got into a fight.
Yasmin threw one of the two pots of boiling water (which Grandma keeps on the stove for humidity) at William and burned him. When she reached for the second pot, William threw himself at her and held her tightly, arms at her sides. (As Grandma recounts, anyway.)
Yasmin started screaming, struggled free, and proceeded to call the police, alleging attempted strangulation. When the police arrived, Yasmin (again, according to Grandma,) feigned injury, moaning and groaning and pinching her neck to show how William had tried to kill her.
William was subsequently picked up, brought to juvenile detention, and tried on assault charges.
Yasmin reiterated her story before the judge, while Grandma testified to the contrary.
William was sent to a local detention camp for 12 months. (And then Yasmin missed her turn-in date and got almost another year herself.)
THE FINALE
As I stood there the other day with Grandma, listening to this story, I couldn't help but ponder the veracity of her words. The truth is that I don't know what to believe, from any of these guys. I have caught the girls lying to me on a number of ocassions, and I know that it's a learned behavior. I am filled with doubt and uncertainty whenever I talk to any of them...
But there I was, frozen, listening to Grandma, watching as the tears filled her eyes and slowly began to spill over. She kept talking, feverishly, as they dripped from her chin, staining her rumpled shirt. I listened dumbly... numbly... encapsulated in the sad halo of her alcohol-breath, unable to form a thought apart from discomfort at the expanding gassy-bubble of hatred ascending from my gut, on whose surface was the face... of Yasmin.
It was then, as I stood there fighting my discomfort, that Grandma produced the sickening *cherry, brilliant in it's horrifying simplicity, atop this veritable sundae of disfunction:
She said to me: (and I paraphrase)
Yeah, and that's why all them cars been comin' up in here, I know you seen 'em and you don't approve, and I'm gonna stop, cuz you know I know it's bad for me with my asthma, but I just can't handle all a this, and I need me some weed an that stuff too, you know... to relax myself.
.
.
.
.
.
SO.
Should I do anything???? Say anything???? To anybody or nobody??? And if yes, what??? To whom???
Help!
I'm getting an ulcer thinking about all of this - especially those little girls.
*Bad sundae metaphor idea stolen from Jeremy at Afterglide.
Wednesday, September 26, 2007
What do YOU do?
When you REEEEEEEEEALLY REALLY want something, but it's unclear as to wether you'll be able to get it?
Do you:
A) Try not to think about it or get too excited, lest you be more disappointed if it falls through, or
B) Think about it constantly, plan for it, and actively visualize yourself achieving/possessing it?
Do you:
A) Try not to think about it or get too excited, lest you be more disappointed if it falls through, or
B) Think about it constantly, plan for it, and actively visualize yourself achieving/possessing it?
Tuesday, September 25, 2007
Electric Arc this Saturday
Here's the scoop:
*****
Saturday, Sep 29, 8pm at the Woman's Club Theatre, Electric Arc Radio
Rolls Again, Recorded Live for Broadcast!
There is a mortgage crisis in this country. Who is the subprimiest
group of writers you know? The four housemates of the Lit 6 Project.
And so it comes to pass. A crinkled foreclosure notice is found in a
spot it doesn't belong. The writers are going to lose the house!
Fear and Loathing in Minneapolis... filled with song! Beer! Beer!
Clarinet! Visits from Pixie Pop Stars! Mortgage Brokers and a Paperboy
in Love! You can't miss it.
Special Musical Guest Haley Bonar! http://www.haleybonar.com/
Special Comedian/Clarinetist visit from Mary Mack!
http://www.marymackcomedy.com/
Spread around these special Door Promotions!
$8 at the door with Student ID! (AARP Card will work, too).
A two-fer ticket ($15 for 2) if at least one ticket buyer has never
seen the show! On your honor!
This is the funniest show ever! Be there! Doors and Bar open at 7pm!
Thanks to our great sponsors: 89.3 The Current, Mpls.St.Paul Magazine,
Hamline University's Graduate School of Liberal Studies, Joe's Garage,
The Loft, and Bells Beer.
Also thanks to our Neighbors who will begin to get their real due on
Saturday!!!!
*****
(This was lifted from an email sent by Geoff Herbach.)
Monday, September 24, 2007
Sunday, September 23, 2007
Okay, I admit it. I'm paranoid and superstitious. Sort of.
I've always been afraid of car accidents.
Often when I am driving, images of wreckage will strike me out of the blue. I know it's in my mind, but believe me when I say that it's utterly subconscious. I could be thinking of kittens and ouzo and Queen Anne architecture, and all of the sudden my brain will be jolted with imaginary sensation of being rammed by another vehicle, complete with the sound of shattering glass and crushing metal.
Once when I was younger, I announced to to my mother quite matter-of-factly that I would die in a car wreck. I have no idea where that idea came from, but come it did. Needless to say, it freaked her out. (And me too!)
So given all of the above, coupled with the fact that I have survived two bad car accidents already, it stands to reason that I was chilled to my very soul when the GS called me some months ago and breathlessly informed me that he'd been in an accident with his brand new dream-car while en route to meet friends for Dim Sum. (I have not eaten Dim Sum since, as a result.)
His vehicle was NEARLY totalled. (Some might argue that it should have been... but that's a different post.) So dramatic was the trail of damage and debris along the I94 ramp from Highway 55 that I thought I might be sick when I saw it shortly after picking the GS up from the side of the road.
We agreed that his emergence unscathed was miraculous.
I, non-religous as I am, then informed him that we must make an offering to St. Christopher in gratitude.
Here's why:
Shortly after the GS made that fateful purchase of his long-sought-after vehicle, his parents sent him a gift. It was a medallion of Aghios Christoforos (St. Christopher,) patron saint of travellers. The GS doesn't much care for saints and religiosity as it were, but since it was a present- and a very fine one at that -he dutifully tucked the icon behind his sun-visor.
Needless to say, when the tow-company allowed him the perfunctory "gather-your-crap" access prior to the insurance adjustor's visit, "the Aghio" was the first thing he grabbed out of the car.
On our recent sojourn to his Patrida, I was determined to do something in acknowlegement of this episode. Sadly, I found that there was no shrine to the good Christopher on Corfu.
Damn!
Instead, we paid homage to the odd Cypriot mummy that watches over all of Corfu: St. Spiridon. We lit candles and the GS + mama dutifully kissed the casket. (I don't kiss objects, but I tried to look as reverential as I could to make up for that.)
I hope that was good enough.
And now, I'm proud to say that I am in possession of my very own icon of the good St. Christopher. I hope only that he will protect me until my rightful time has come...
Often when I am driving, images of wreckage will strike me out of the blue. I know it's in my mind, but believe me when I say that it's utterly subconscious. I could be thinking of kittens and ouzo and Queen Anne architecture, and all of the sudden my brain will be jolted with imaginary sensation of being rammed by another vehicle, complete with the sound of shattering glass and crushing metal.
Once when I was younger, I announced to to my mother quite matter-of-factly that I would die in a car wreck. I have no idea where that idea came from, but come it did. Needless to say, it freaked her out. (And me too!)
So given all of the above, coupled with the fact that I have survived two bad car accidents already, it stands to reason that I was chilled to my very soul when the GS called me some months ago and breathlessly informed me that he'd been in an accident with his brand new dream-car while en route to meet friends for Dim Sum. (I have not eaten Dim Sum since, as a result.)
His vehicle was NEARLY totalled. (Some might argue that it should have been... but that's a different post.) So dramatic was the trail of damage and debris along the I94 ramp from Highway 55 that I thought I might be sick when I saw it shortly after picking the GS up from the side of the road.
We agreed that his emergence unscathed was miraculous.
I, non-religous as I am, then informed him that we must make an offering to St. Christopher in gratitude.
Here's why:
Shortly after the GS made that fateful purchase of his long-sought-after vehicle, his parents sent him a gift. It was a medallion of Aghios Christoforos (St. Christopher,) patron saint of travellers. The GS doesn't much care for saints and religiosity as it were, but since it was a present- and a very fine one at that -he dutifully tucked the icon behind his sun-visor.
Needless to say, when the tow-company allowed him the perfunctory "gather-your-crap" access prior to the insurance adjustor's visit, "the Aghio" was the first thing he grabbed out of the car.
On our recent sojourn to his Patrida, I was determined to do something in acknowlegement of this episode. Sadly, I found that there was no shrine to the good Christopher on Corfu.
Damn!
Instead, we paid homage to the odd Cypriot mummy that watches over all of Corfu: St. Spiridon. We lit candles and the GS + mama dutifully kissed the casket. (I don't kiss objects, but I tried to look as reverential as I could to make up for that.)
I hope that was good enough.
And now, I'm proud to say that I am in possession of my very own icon of the good St. Christopher. I hope only that he will protect me until my rightful time has come...
Where in the world is the house that Ranty wants???
I love trivia!
Okay, here's a big hint: it's in Minneapolis.
Other hints:
It was built by a semi-famous (to the obsessed like myself anyway) architect who's heyday was roughly the last decade of the 19th Century.
It is one of two homes that he both built and lived in himself.
It's block has historic designation, both nationally and by the State.
And the last BIG hint:
The view from the veranda is, uhhh... BUSY... and NOISY.
Okay, here's a big hint: it's in Minneapolis.
Other hints:
It was built by a semi-famous (to the obsessed like myself anyway) architect who's heyday was roughly the last decade of the 19th Century.
It is one of two homes that he both built and lived in himself.
It's block has historic designation, both nationally and by the State.
And the last BIG hint:
The view from the veranda is, uhhh... BUSY... and NOISY.
Friday, September 21, 2007
Thursday, September 20, 2007
A Boring, Picture-less Post about Amsterdam
Yes, Ranty and Co. have officially returned from the Ionian Wonderland that is Corfu, and hey, we only missed on flight out of six! Unfortunately that one flight resulted in a complete reconfiguration of the other two inbound flights... costing us over $400 and forcing us to spend a day in Amsterdam... again.
Not that Amsterdam is bad, mind you, in fact I find it quite charming... just not when I haven't had any sleep and am bitter over a missed flight. At any rate, we've done this day-layover thing a number of times now, so it was almost rote for us.
After digging long-sleeved shirts and an umbrella out of our luggage and stashing our backpacks at the Schiphol airport luggage lockers, we typically hop a train into the city and head straight for the floating flower market. This time was no exception. We had our usual (ranty) coffee, (GS) Heineken, and (shared) bacon and egg sandwich at a cafe across from the sea of tulip bulbs, and watched the pedestrian show.
Amsterdam, at least when compared with the homogeneity of Greece, is a delightfully diverse place. I LOVE walking down the street (or sitting around eating a bacon and egg sandwich, as it were,) and hearing a multitude of languages. LOVE IT! I counted Spanish, Italian, Arabic, English, Greek and Dutch among the snatches of convo overheard... and that doesn't account for the languages I couldn't understand or identify, which were at least two more.
The other cool thing?
They had signs in Somali around the airport.
And here I thought we were unique for that in Minneapolis...
The funniest event of all though, was when the GS and I stopped at an outdoor display, lazily browsing postcards and such to pass the time. I made a comment (in Greek) about wanting to go back and look at a print which had caught my eye around the corner.
At that very moment, a gentleman was passing along the sidewalk, directly behind me. He swung around, smiled widely at me, and called out "Patrida!*"
Considering the fact that I'm 110% American, that comment made the GS's day...
*"Patrida" means "homeland" in Greek. It is common for Greeks to use this word as a exclamatory greeting when happening across a fellow Hellene while abroad.
Not that Amsterdam is bad, mind you, in fact I find it quite charming... just not when I haven't had any sleep and am bitter over a missed flight. At any rate, we've done this day-layover thing a number of times now, so it was almost rote for us.
After digging long-sleeved shirts and an umbrella out of our luggage and stashing our backpacks at the Schiphol airport luggage lockers, we typically hop a train into the city and head straight for the floating flower market. This time was no exception. We had our usual (ranty) coffee, (GS) Heineken, and (shared) bacon and egg sandwich at a cafe across from the sea of tulip bulbs, and watched the pedestrian show.
Amsterdam, at least when compared with the homogeneity of Greece, is a delightfully diverse place. I LOVE walking down the street (or sitting around eating a bacon and egg sandwich, as it were,) and hearing a multitude of languages. LOVE IT! I counted Spanish, Italian, Arabic, English, Greek and Dutch among the snatches of convo overheard... and that doesn't account for the languages I couldn't understand or identify, which were at least two more.
The other cool thing?
They had signs in Somali around the airport.
And here I thought we were unique for that in Minneapolis...
The funniest event of all though, was when the GS and I stopped at an outdoor display, lazily browsing postcards and such to pass the time. I made a comment (in Greek) about wanting to go back and look at a print which had caught my eye around the corner.
At that very moment, a gentleman was passing along the sidewalk, directly behind me. He swung around, smiled widely at me, and called out "Patrida!*"
Considering the fact that I'm 110% American, that comment made the GS's day...
*"Patrida" means "homeland" in Greek. It is common for Greeks to use this word as a exclamatory greeting when happening across a fellow Hellene while abroad.
Friday, September 7, 2007
Ohmigod *hyperventilate*
Just made an offer today on the craptastikest house EVER.
Now, the offer hasn't been accepted yet, and it's bank-owned, so this is NOT a done deal.
I'm so scared.
I hope it works.
Cross your fingers please!!!
***UPDATE: We have a counter situation. It's a tricky one. Tentatively confident though...***
Now, the offer hasn't been accepted yet, and it's bank-owned, so this is NOT a done deal.
I'm so scared.
I hope it works.
Cross your fingers please!!!
***UPDATE: We have a counter situation. It's a tricky one. Tentatively confident though...***
Thursday, September 6, 2007
Now THAT's a keeper
Some telemarketer seriously just called and asked to speak with "Dr. Napoleon."
Nope, I'm not lying.
(I calmly informed her that he wasn't here right now, but I'd be sure to give him the message.)
Nope, I'm not lying.
(I calmly informed her that he wasn't here right now, but I'd be sure to give him the message.)
Thursday, August 30, 2007
Where in the world are the Rantys going NOW?
Same deal as last time - the winner gets a souvenir from the place!
(Mom, you are automatically disqualifed. Please don't guess! You'll get souvenirs and presents anyway... :-)
Okay, here are the preliminary clues:
1. This place is known by two names simultaneously, in two different alphabets.
2. The name used by locals is derived from that of a mythological nymph.
3. It has been governed by several different powers over the course of time, including Venetian, French and British. It also served as the capitol of a nominally sovereign republic for a short while.
4. Remnants of outside influence include a promenade modeled after the Rue de Rivoli, a cricket field in the center of town, and a surprising taste (by the locals) for Ginger Beer.
5. This place is also the home of a (nearly) world-famous party hostel, whose name has a color in it.
(Mom, you are automatically disqualifed. Please don't guess! You'll get souvenirs and presents anyway... :-)
Okay, here are the preliminary clues:
1. This place is known by two names simultaneously, in two different alphabets.
2. The name used by locals is derived from that of a mythological nymph.
3. It has been governed by several different powers over the course of time, including Venetian, French and British. It also served as the capitol of a nominally sovereign republic for a short while.
4. Remnants of outside influence include a promenade modeled after the Rue de Rivoli, a cricket field in the center of town, and a surprising taste (by the locals) for Ginger Beer.
5. This place is also the home of a (nearly) world-famous party hostel, whose name has a color in it.
Wednesday, August 29, 2007
Text messages - did I miss the memo?
When did text-messaging become interchangeable with email?
Now I admit that I may have become TOO attached to email. I mean, I never turn my computer off... Ever. I leave browser windows open all day, and sometimes all night. I use email sometimes when I probably should be making a phone call instead...
But whatever is up with this move to texting?
The instances in which an email message (sent by me) is responded to via text to my phone are wayyyyyyyy up. Seriously, if you take the time to read my message, why not just hit reply instead of pulling out the cell to text me back?
I'm getting texts in the middle of the night. (Hello? It wakes me up! Wait 'til morning please!)
I even have a client now who prefers contact via text message.
What's the deal?
I guess I better get that unlimited text addition to my phone plan... and fast.
Now I admit that I may have become TOO attached to email. I mean, I never turn my computer off... Ever. I leave browser windows open all day, and sometimes all night. I use email sometimes when I probably should be making a phone call instead...
But whatever is up with this move to texting?
The instances in which an email message (sent by me) is responded to via text to my phone are wayyyyyyyy up. Seriously, if you take the time to read my message, why not just hit reply instead of pulling out the cell to text me back?
I'm getting texts in the middle of the night. (Hello? It wakes me up! Wait 'til morning please!)
I even have a client now who prefers contact via text message.
What's the deal?
I guess I better get that unlimited text addition to my phone plan... and fast.
Tuesday, August 28, 2007
How many cars does a purse thief have???
So, in addition to charging drinks, a couple of slices from Pizza Luce, and parking on my credit card, the purse thief also made the following charges on my check-card, thanks to Wells Fargo's system being down and thus incapable of refusing transactions...
$132 Target, Brooklyn Park
$123 Babies R Us, Maple Grove
$50 SuperAmerica, New Hope
$97 SuperAmerica, New Hope
$50 SuperAmerica, New Hope
$47 Cub Foods, Brooklyn Park
$25 McDonald's, Crystal
$205 Walmart, Brooklyn Park
What a sad list. I mean, for crying out loud...
Monday, August 27, 2007
Open House Recap
After much stressing, racing around for balloons, coffee, cupcakes and signage, (to say nothing of driving the Good Scientist out of his mind with my anxiety,) I do believe the open was a great success.
First of all, my mom and stepdad hoofed it all the way up from Eureka Township, just to see the finished product and provide moral support on my very first [EVAR] open house.
Second of all, Ed from The Deets came, and brought the lovely Mrs. Deets as well! We discussed real estate websites, decorating, and of course, the Jucy Lucy. Sweet!
Third of all, I got a visit from some VERY cool neighbors, and they had lots of advice about the people with whom I should be networking to promote the cottage, as well as great info about other properties around the area, and some general neighborhood newsy stuff.
AWESOME!
First of all, my mom and stepdad hoofed it all the way up from Eureka Township, just to see the finished product and provide moral support on my very first [EVAR] open house.
Second of all, Ed from The Deets came, and brought the lovely Mrs. Deets as well! We discussed real estate websites, decorating, and of course, the Jucy Lucy. Sweet!
Third of all, I got a visit from some VERY cool neighbors, and they had lots of advice about the people with whom I should be networking to promote the cottage, as well as great info about other properties around the area, and some general neighborhood newsy stuff.
AWESOME!
Tuesday, August 21, 2007
Processing your loans AND hooking you up with the hip threads!
As most of you know, I recently joined Century 21 Luger Realty as a sales associate.
You may also have noticed, if you've been reading this blog for a while, that I love fashion.
So what a fabulous (cosmic?) surprise it was when I discovered the owner of my favorite neighborhood boutique, right downstairs in our in-house mortgage company!
Ladies and Gentlemen, she's bringing you the style, AND processing your loans!
I may have to begin sporting these locally-designed outfits at all of my closings, just because this is too good of an excuse to shop at one of the coolest boutiques around...
(Would that be considered cross-branding???)
Hmmm... the world just keeps getting smaller and smaller!
You may also have noticed, if you've been reading this blog for a while, that I love fashion.
So what a fabulous (cosmic?) surprise it was when I discovered the owner of my favorite neighborhood boutique, right downstairs in our in-house mortgage company!
Ladies and Gentlemen, she's bringing you the style, AND processing your loans!
I may have to begin sporting these locally-designed outfits at all of my closings, just because this is too good of an excuse to shop at one of the coolest boutiques around...
(Would that be considered cross-branding???)
Hmmm... the world just keeps getting smaller and smaller!
Monday, August 20, 2007
A lesson learned the hard way
Every experience -no matter how painful or aggravating- should teach us something, right?
Well this weekend I learned the hard way - NEVER to put my purse down in a nightclub again.
Yes, I should have already known that. In fact, I used to ALWAYS leave my purse at home, carrying merely an ID, credit card and some cash in a pocket when going out. Alas, I have grown lax in recent months. I wanted to carry my camera around so I could take photos and blog about events, and of course there's the ever-important need for a stash of business cards and a cell phone on my person at all times, right?
Well yes, okay, but if I must carry these things, I guess I had better not be so stupid as to put my purse down!!!!!
A mistake I will not make again...
Among the lost items are:
driver's license
ALL of my credit/debit cards
cell phone
digital camera
Not to mention stupid stuff like my favorite makeup items, business cards, library card, etc.
And, to add insult to injury, the Good Scientist's VIP card for the Lounge (where the theft took place) was in there as well, so now the THIEF is going to be VIP-ed!!!!
Bastards.
Of course the first thing the thief did was try to charge gasoline... fortunately my bank denied the charge since I cancelled all cards IMMEDIATELY. (Then they took a different card and successfully charged $700 worth of crap which I have yet to identify. It should be fun to see what this idiot bought.)
Well this weekend I learned the hard way - NEVER to put my purse down in a nightclub again.
Yes, I should have already known that. In fact, I used to ALWAYS leave my purse at home, carrying merely an ID, credit card and some cash in a pocket when going out. Alas, I have grown lax in recent months. I wanted to carry my camera around so I could take photos and blog about events, and of course there's the ever-important need for a stash of business cards and a cell phone on my person at all times, right?
Well yes, okay, but if I must carry these things, I guess I had better not be so stupid as to put my purse down!!!!!
A mistake I will not make again...
Among the lost items are:
driver's license
ALL of my credit/debit cards
cell phone
digital camera
Not to mention stupid stuff like my favorite makeup items, business cards, library card, etc.
And, to add insult to injury, the Good Scientist's VIP card for the Lounge (where the theft took place) was in there as well, so now the THIEF is going to be VIP-ed!!!!
Bastards.
Of course the first thing the thief did was try to charge gasoline... fortunately my bank denied the charge since I cancelled all cards IMMEDIATELY. (Then they took a different card and successfully charged $700 worth of crap which I have yet to identify. It should be fun to see what this idiot bought.)
Thursday, August 16, 2007
Vacation Photo Recap Part 2
From my childhood BF's wedding last weekend, in Sebastopol, CA:
Look at that cake!
<-------------- The groom is studying viticulture, so the grapes were an appropriate touch.
Needless to say, the wine was good!
GS is always quick to find the hot chicks...
Sunday brunch with the happy couple.
I miss these guys... wish they still lived in MN.
So the wedding was Saturday. On Sunday afternoon, GS and I decided to have an impromptu picnic in Petaluma, made up of random snacks procured at Albertson's, along with a bottle of the groom's own wine, which was given as wedding favors.
Here's our spread:
<---------------- Note the sushi. NOT a good idea to buy from the grocery store... I REPEAT: NOT A GOOD IDEA.
Yeah, he's smiling now... but not for long.
A glimpse of the bridge as we headed back to SF... holding our stomachs in agony.
And now, ANOTHER wedding tomorrow!
Look at that cake!
<-------------- The groom is studying viticulture, so the grapes were an appropriate touch.
Needless to say, the wine was good!
GS is always quick to find the hot chicks...
Sunday brunch with the happy couple.
I miss these guys... wish they still lived in MN.
So the wedding was Saturday. On Sunday afternoon, GS and I decided to have an impromptu picnic in Petaluma, made up of random snacks procured at Albertson's, along with a bottle of the groom's own wine, which was given as wedding favors.
Here's our spread:
<---------------- Note the sushi. NOT a good idea to buy from the grocery store... I REPEAT: NOT A GOOD IDEA.
Yeah, he's smiling now... but not for long.
A glimpse of the bridge as we headed back to SF... holding our stomachs in agony.
And now, ANOTHER wedding tomorrow!
Wednesday, August 15, 2007
Monday, August 13, 2007
Vacation Photo Recap, Part 1
(Part 2 will come shortly, and include details of our weekend-wedding-stopover in San Francisco.)
International paparazzi has arrived on the scene.
(San Pedro Sula airport)
Pinatas in production. (La Ceiba)
This is a Ceiba tree, for which my home-away-from-home, La Ceiba is named.
(And this is a *small* one.)
The Estero. (Estuary)
Dirtyyyyyyyy!
(La Ceiba)
When in Ceiba, one must rokk the appropriate Ceibeno specs, y'know. (Particularly when one feels an affinity with gigantic citrus fruit.)
Gotsta luv the getto-ferry!
(Or as the GS would say, the "skilopnikths," which translates to "dog-drowner.")
(Bound for Roatan)
Dude. I'm trying to read here.
Angels & Demons is, as Psycho Suzi would say: trashy, but tasty.
Sunset in the village of West End, on Roatan.
A couple of US GIs enjoy their r&r with two lovely British tourists. (One is laying in the surf with her Monkey La-La.)
These guys flew up from Comayagua in their Blackhawks for their 72 hours of rest. We actually saw them later, weaving back across the sky from the mainland. It was pretty cool.
The GS toasts Salva Vida, (the national beer, literally "Life Saver") as well as: the sunset; army kids trying to score; crazy water taxis(boat in background;) Roatan; and our [WOW!] six-year anniversary.
Across the "street" from our $25/night hotel in West End.
Not a bad front yard, if I may say.
GS was particularly pleased by the fact that this beach was named "Half Moon Bay." (Not much wave for surfing here, however.)
Gratuitous breakfast-boob-shot.
(Crispy-fried hangover included freeeeee!.)
*Ranty thought bubble reads: "should I get the hash brow's w/bacon and beams?"*
Whatchoo lookin' at, Snapper?
This important potty message brought to you by: Honduras.
(And stingrays.)
And moving right along...
No, it's not Cancun, though the prices are probably close. (A total shock after the rest of Honduras.)
It's West Bay Beach! Whooo! Also known as the alternate universe.
Where did all of these ITALIANS come from??????? (Oh yeah, must be the new direct flight from Milan.)
Back on the mainland, and back to the fantastic Garifuna village of Sambo Creek.
These "aguas thermales" are REALLY. EFFING. HOT.
The spray that you see coming out of the hose is cold water, which makes the spring barely tolerable. (What a great treat after a zipline canopy tour though! Pics of that to come once I find the GS's camera.)
The final lunch, at Helen's, also located in Sambo Creek.
Hasta la proxima vez, Honduras... que le vaya bien... !mi corazon!
P.S. In view of my recent post trivia post about where in world I was going, (won by my dedicated fellow-midwestern-house-blogger Litter Box House) you may be wondering why in the heck there are no Utila/Water Cay photos here, since GS and I attended the SUPER-DUPER-FANTASTIC Sun Jam event there this week.
I know, I know. I wish I had some!!! It was AWESOME.*
The reason is that cameras were STRICTLY forbidden on the Cay. Anyone found carrying one had their battery confiscated, and that even included our silly little travel-phone, which had a blurry camera built-in. (See mom? THAT is why I didn't call!)
I suppose it had something to do with a fear of documentation of gratuitous sex and drug use... ? :-) Actually, I'm kidding. It was great fun, and other than a pervasive cloud of pot smoke, we didn't witness a single naughty thing. It was totally chill, hippy-style.
*If you want to attend next year, send me an email. GS and I are hoping to organize a big group. Who knows? There might even be sailboats involved... :-)
International paparazzi has arrived on the scene.
(San Pedro Sula airport)
Pinatas in production. (La Ceiba)
This is a Ceiba tree, for which my home-away-from-home, La Ceiba is named.
(And this is a *small* one.)
The Estero. (Estuary)
Dirtyyyyyyyy!
(La Ceiba)
When in Ceiba, one must rokk the appropriate Ceibeno specs, y'know. (Particularly when one feels an affinity with gigantic citrus fruit.)
Gotsta luv the getto-ferry!
(Or as the GS would say, the "skilopnikths," which translates to "dog-drowner.")
(Bound for Roatan)
Dude. I'm trying to read here.
Angels & Demons is, as Psycho Suzi would say: trashy, but tasty.
Sunset in the village of West End, on Roatan.
A couple of US GIs enjoy their r&r with two lovely British tourists. (One is laying in the surf with her Monkey La-La.)These guys flew up from Comayagua in their Blackhawks for their 72 hours of rest. We actually saw them later, weaving back across the sky from the mainland. It was pretty cool.
The GS toasts Salva Vida, (the national beer, literally "Life Saver") as well as: the sunset; army kids trying to score; crazy water taxis(boat in background;) Roatan; and our [WOW!] six-year anniversary.
Across the "street" from our $25/night hotel in West End.
Not a bad front yard, if I may say.
GS was particularly pleased by the fact that this beach was named "Half Moon Bay." (Not much wave for surfing here, however.)
Gratuitous breakfast-boob-shot.
(Crispy-fried hangover included freeeeee!.)
*Ranty thought bubble reads: "should I get the hash brow's w/bacon and beams?"*
Whatchoo lookin' at, Snapper?
This important potty message brought to you by: Honduras.
(And stingrays.)
And moving right along...
No, it's not Cancun, though the prices are probably close. (A total shock after the rest of Honduras.)
It's West Bay Beach! Whooo! Also known as the alternate universe.
Where did all of these ITALIANS come from??????? (Oh yeah, must be the new direct flight from Milan.)
Back on the mainland, and back to the fantastic Garifuna village of Sambo Creek.
These "aguas thermales" are REALLY. EFFING. HOT.
The spray that you see coming out of the hose is cold water, which makes the spring barely tolerable. (What a great treat after a zipline canopy tour though! Pics of that to come once I find the GS's camera.)
The final lunch, at Helen's, also located in Sambo Creek.
Hasta la proxima vez, Honduras... que le vaya bien... !mi corazon!
P.S. In view of my recent post trivia post about where in world I was going, (won by my dedicated fellow-midwestern-house-blogger Litter Box House) you may be wondering why in the heck there are no Utila/Water Cay photos here, since GS and I attended the SUPER-DUPER-FANTASTIC Sun Jam event there this week.
I know, I know. I wish I had some!!! It was AWESOME.*
The reason is that cameras were STRICTLY forbidden on the Cay. Anyone found carrying one had their battery confiscated, and that even included our silly little travel-phone, which had a blurry camera built-in. (See mom? THAT is why I didn't call!)
I suppose it had something to do with a fear of documentation of gratuitous sex and drug use... ? :-) Actually, I'm kidding. It was great fun, and other than a pervasive cloud of pot smoke, we didn't witness a single naughty thing. It was totally chill, hippy-style.
*If you want to attend next year, send me an email. GS and I are hoping to organize a big group. Who knows? There might even be sailboats involved... :-)
Wednesday, August 8, 2007
Honorary Greeks
The Good Scientist with Garifuna children in the coastal village of Sambo Creek.
In spite of the language barrier, they managed to have an extended conversation about... futbol.
(From L2R: Ronaldhinio, Beckham, Messi, Zidane, Castillo.)
Hash Brow's w/bacon and beams
Even in San Pedro Sula, Honduras, the front page showed Minneapolis.
<--------
So many interesting choices for breakfast on Roatan.
(What the hell is a beam???)
I'm guessing beans, but I didn't try it to see...
Wednesday, August 1, 2007
Roll Call!
Mr. Ranty was nearby, but thankfully didn't get onto the 35W bridge which collapsed during this evening's rush hour.
Is everybody okay???????????????
Please let us know!!!
Is everybody okay???????????????
Please let us know!!!
Tuesday, July 31, 2007
Where in the world is Ranty going to be this weekend???
Wow, three posts in one day!
I'm deliberately overcompensating for what will likely be an eleven-day drought in ranty-posts.
Yes yes, I know you're thinking:
Whaaaaaaat???? How will I survive eleven days without my fix of blurry house/garden pics with fingernail-measurements, over-puctuated diatribes and wanton, profanity-laced complaining????
But I promise that you will make it through. Especially if you read MNSpeak. (And if you don't, I suggest you do. It's awesome. I've been wasting precious time there for well over a year now, so I know what I'm talking about.)
And nowwwwwwwwwww... to keep you further occupied, how about a contest???
WHERE IN THE WORLD ARE SRA. & SR. RANTY GOING TO BE THIS WEEKEND*?
Okay, here are the hints:
1. It's an island. (But no, not the Greek one from which Sr. Ranty hails.)
2. It's actually a deserted island, located in a tiny archipelago.
3. The main language spoken throughout this archipelago (on the islands which are inhabited, that is to say) is not the same as that of the country to which the island belongs. In fact, the islanders are a source of fascination to some linguistic scholars for their unique patois.
4. This particular deserted island is home to an annual music festival, which takes place next weekend, and is also something of a cult diving destination.
And the biggest hint of all:
5. While I call it an island, the islanders actually call it a "cay."
The first person to guess the answer correctly wins a souvenir from the trip! (No, I'm not telling you what the souvenir is, because I don't know yet. It will have to be small and legal to carry across borders though, for sure. :-)
*Those of you to whom I already disclosed the location: hush.
I'm deliberately overcompensating for what will likely be an eleven-day drought in ranty-posts.
Yes yes, I know you're thinking:
Whaaaaaaat???? How will I survive eleven days without my fix of blurry house/garden pics with fingernail-measurements, over-puctuated diatribes and wanton, profanity-laced complaining????
But I promise that you will make it through. Especially if you read MNSpeak. (And if you don't, I suggest you do. It's awesome. I've been wasting precious time there for well over a year now, so I know what I'm talking about.)
And nowwwwwwwwwww... to keep you further occupied, how about a contest???
WHERE IN THE WORLD ARE SRA. & SR. RANTY GOING TO BE THIS WEEKEND*?
Okay, here are the hints:
1. It's an island. (But no, not the Greek one from which Sr. Ranty hails.)
2. It's actually a deserted island, located in a tiny archipelago.
3. The main language spoken throughout this archipelago (on the islands which are inhabited, that is to say) is not the same as that of the country to which the island belongs. In fact, the islanders are a source of fascination to some linguistic scholars for their unique patois.
4. This particular deserted island is home to an annual music festival, which takes place next weekend, and is also something of a cult diving destination.
And the biggest hint of all:
5. While I call it an island, the islanders actually call it a "cay."
The first person to guess the answer correctly wins a souvenir from the trip! (No, I'm not telling you what the souvenir is, because I don't know yet. It will have to be small and legal to carry across borders though, for sure. :-)
*Those of you to whom I already disclosed the location: hush.
Sooooooooooo CUTE!
The baby gourd, that is to say... not to be confused with my fingernail or the rusty pickup truck key.
The Den, then and now
The den was rather difficult to photograph, but here's a taste of what that poor little room had to go through...
Note the disgusting ceiling. It started out with foamboard tiles, under which I also discovered painted wallpaper.
Both were undoubtedly somebody's *cough* clever response to the underlying plaster damage.
I'll never EVER forget pulling down the penultimate tile and discovering the words "f**k you!" scrawled in red ink underneath.
See that last bottom corner of plaster?
Pulling it out yielded much dust, some loose lath, and a bonus pair of men's tighty-whities, plastered right into the dang wall.
Go figure...
All done!
Saturday, July 28, 2007
Saturday Afternoon Project
As some (but not all) of you know, this house-lady's base of operations is (ironically) a little apartment in Whittier.While the Good Scientist and I do intend to move into house #5 (aka the dump of my dreams) after it's ready, we are currently enjoying our non-working hours in this tiny flat near Lyn-Lake.
<---------
Shocking, I know.
It's white. AND IT'S CLUTTERED!
And don't get me started on the light fixture....
And I'll tell you a secret: It's DIRTY TOO.
So today I looked at this kitchen and I said to myself I said:
"Self, you are stupid. Why does the cottage look so nice and your kitchen look so terrible?"
And I said back to myself I said:
"Self, cuz I am tired. I don't wanna do this shite when I come home at night. Go proselytize ELSEWHERE, you wannabe-shoulder-sittin-angel-bizzzaaaaatch."
To which I replied:
"Hey dumbself: today is SATURDAY. Stop screwing around with your futile attempt to follow people on twitter, put on a clean shirt and let's do something prooooooo-ductive... hmmmm?"
So we (I mean "I") did just that.
I present you with a clean kitchen, walls painted in a cornhusk tone.
<------------------ Please forgive the aweful cabinetry and flooring... this is what one gets for $600/month in Whittier.
Ah, tidyness.
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