Archive for July, 2011

Hi. It’s Me Again.

Posted in Uncategorized on July 20, 2011 by caseanator

What better place to pick up a blog than 7 months after the last post? Aye-ye-ye. (I just spent 43 seconds deciding how to spell that. Still not sure. Moving right along.) The good news is that this will no longer be tipping the scales into potential crazy cat lady blog. Because after an evening of drinking pitchers of margaritas with 5 of our friends and being driven to some far off land at 10:00 on Sunday night to meet an old lady breeder, we got a puppy:

Here he rests, fluffy white head on a king sized mattress on our front porch. Urban porch mattress chic.

Oh yes, it’s possible to relax on our front porch now because I bought a house, nbd. It was a difficult decision to give up the luxurious life of drafty windows, crappy wood floors, no dishwasher, loud djing and love makin’ neighbors, and homeless doorstep poo but at least I bought a house wherein I share the neighborhood with crazy awesome mural of 3 Bengals Players and only a mile from the old apartment. Still urban friends, let’s not worry.

Borrowed from (go there for more pictures)


But I’m getting ahead of myself. You want HISTORY and UPDATES and HIP URBANNESS. Looking back we seem to have spent the greater part of January, February, and even March (when after a good 5 years as a redhead I must have had an emo breakdown and went black and have not gone back) indoors avoiding human contact and mainly a cool breeze. Avoiding leaving the house makes you learn things about yourself. Things like the fact that you would be willing to feed your cat Wheat Thins rather than stop by somewhere….really anywhere….to pick up a bag of cat food.

Pictured: shame.

When the weather finally started to warm up I felt motivated to start a bike project. I picked up a Nishiki on craigslist and spray painted it.

Strange Bikefruit

And road it twice realizing that I’m too ladylike (weak) for the gear I have it at. But it still looks pretty neat.

Everyone at the bike shop was like “Cool Skittles bike” (secret eye roll)

In the sunshine of May, bf and a good friend were on the cover of our weekly riding a million pound vintage tandem bike. I was there to watch the shoot, laughing my face off and directing bf to look “less stupid”. For some of the time, our buddy had 2 ice cream cones which makes things like this happen mostly.

Kids, don’t try to run at a slow-moving tandem bike going uphill with a gallon of orange sherbet and intention to hurdle.

As the days grew warmer, my job allowed me the chance to drive around in my convertible with the top down. This is when I discovered that seatbelt tan lines are real. There was nothing said about this at the dealership and I read the manual cover-to-cover.

Nice chest, idiot.

Honestly, even with the help of my trusty iPhone, I have little recollection of the specific events that transpired during the beginning of the year because I spent so much of it thinking about moving, looking at houses, trying to decide of I wanted to buy a house, telling my boyfriend if I buy it he’s not allowed to dump me (referred to as ‘the clause’), buying a house, and trying to not have a panic attack every time my loan officer called with that tone of general sullen despair (a lot). Literally TODAY I sent off the last piece of paperwork I needed to secure this house. You know, the house that I’ve been living in for a month in a half. Cool loan officer. Very good job.

There’s a million projects here and they seem to be never ending. One night in June, shortly after we moved in, we decided to try to get the hot tub cranking. What better time than when it’s 80 degrees at night time to get in a nice piping hot death trap on our improperly supported back deck? A: never. We used 67 pH strips as I texted bfs brother, drunk and ready to get my ‘tub on, “WHAT IS A PH DO I WANT IT TO BE PINK” or whatever.

We never did get in. Thermostat is broken. Anyone have an extra thermostat? :-/

I wouldn’t recommend drunk hot tubbing. Mom. Dad. – Life Guard Bruno

The new place, otherwise, is working out great. BF built a fire pit in the backyard (perfect scalding hot weather past time as well) that we’ve used several times. We’ve discovered a million creatures in the yard including a fat raccoon that busted in on one of our little fire pit gatherings, a snake named Mortimer, a mouse named Circles, and a trazillion lizards (some dried up in our empty planters. Yooops!) There’s also a flesh-eating strain of poison ivy I just got over.

When we first arrived I was worried that we had moved into the heart of college bro-town. Our neighbors a few doors down including Tattoo Face The Amazing and Shirtless Street Footballio had parties 3 weekends out of the 4 weeks they lived at their rental until they were justly evicted. We came home once to 5 or 6 cop cars and Tattoo Face getting stuffed into a cruiser while he yelled “I did my time!”. The next time the cops showed up we called. Mainly for the spectacle. The main thing that irritated me was the snow storm of Keystone Light cans in my yard in the mornings but I discovered if you wait long enough the poor people pick those up to recycle. Urban ecosystem in action!

I’m still at the same job that I’ve been at now for 7+ months and I actually really like it. I recently chose to work more in the ‘hood and less in suburban-entitled-bored-housewife-with-too-much-money-and-not-enough-time-to-talk-about-their-kids-and-what-paninis-are-the-best-ville. Even though I have to go to scarier places I have to hear less about people’s problems that are not real problems. (Selecting finishes for your 7 bajizillion square foot house is like sooo exhausting, I’m sure, shut up.)

So there you have it. We sat around the apartment. We moved. We immediately got a dog . We have been domesticating ourselves. I’ll probably spend the next couple months trying to make my house perfect so we can have a housewarming and my BFF can come stay in the guest bedroom when he comes to visit so if you don’t hear from me check to see that I’m not passed out face-down in the cat’s toilet (oh yeah, our cat uses the toilet) in the basement with a load of laundry in one hand and a Swiffer in the other and a paintbrush between my toes.