Last night I didn't get home until 10, but it was good because I was out getting a lease signed for a better apartment.
See, on Sunday, I brought Matt to look at the apartment, and I realized that the group of buildings that I thought was where we would be living was not part of the complex. So Monday I tried to Google the complex...and came up with all these awful awful reviews of the place. I mean, they were really horrible. There were reviews going back six months saying that the place is infested with cockroaches, they don't pick up the garbage, someone's oven was broken for a week before maintenance finally came to look at it...
Oh no. I cannot live in a place like this.
So I sent Matt the reviews, and he started freaking out, and I called my mom, and her advice was to call the landlord and ask them what they're doing about the roaches, which didn't sound productive to me at all. Also, she just kept saying "but all the other apartments were so much more money." Which is true, but I don't think that's because all of them were overpriced. I think that's the going rate, and this place is lower for a reason...
But then the Realtor we met on Sunday called us and said that the landlord agreed to come down on the rent (just $50, but I took it as a sign) so I took that apartment and he faxed us an application. And before I could even call the complex to tell them that I wanted our deposit back, they called me.
It turns out that the apartment we had applied for was smaller than they'd told us, and they wouldn't have another apartment in the size we want until the middle of April. So I told them to give my money back so I can get a new place. Then they called again yesterday to say that they found another apartment in the size we wanted. Umm...no. Just give my money back. I haven't heard from them again, so the check had better be in the mail.
So, Matt filled out the application and the Realtor faxed us the lease, and I took the train over to the Realtor's last night with the security deposit and the signed lease. So now we have an apartment and we can keep both the cats, and life is good. And then my dad got home and drove me over to a station on my line so I could take the train home. And a train had broken down at the station, so the schedule was all messed up, but at least it was warm and there were some nice people at the station to talk to.
It was a long night, but at least we have a nice, clean place to live now, and it will allow both cats, so I feel better about it.
Wednesday, March 05, 2008
Five a Day
The USDA has changed the recommended daily servings of produce. Following their recent policy of making dietary guidelines as complicated as possible, they've gone from suggesting "5 a day" to a sliding scale based on age and activity level. They also removed the number from their slogan, so they are now shilling "more is better." They made this change because their focus groups showed that people weren't even getting 5 servings a day, so they figured that people would be more driven to eat produce if they were faced with a vaguely motivating slogan. Clearly, these people have never studied game theory, Sesame Street, Weight Watchers, or RPGs. People need goals. Numbers are powerful. Take away the number and you take away the goal.
But wait, there's more stupidity! Instead of encouraging people to eat more servings, they're encouraging people to eat more cups of produce. What's wrong with that? I mean, telling someone to eat 5 cups of something is certainly clearer than telling them to eat 5 servings, right?
Not when you phrase it like this:
One cup of fruit is equivalent to 1 cup of cut-up fruit; one small apple, a medium pear, or a large peach; 1/2 cup dried fruit; or 8 ounces of 100% fruit juice. One cup of vegetables equals 1 cup of raw or cooked vegetables or vegetable juice, or 2 cups of leafy greens.
One cup equals 1/2 cup? One cup equals 2 cups? Forget game theory, these people have never studied math at all ever. They really do need to watch more Sesame Street.
But wait, there's more stupidity! Instead of encouraging people to eat more servings, they're encouraging people to eat more cups of produce. What's wrong with that? I mean, telling someone to eat 5 cups of something is certainly clearer than telling them to eat 5 servings, right?
Not when you phrase it like this:
One cup of fruit is equivalent to 1 cup of cut-up fruit; one small apple, a medium pear, or a large peach; 1/2 cup dried fruit; or 8 ounces of 100% fruit juice. One cup of vegetables equals 1 cup of raw or cooked vegetables or vegetable juice, or 2 cups of leafy greens.
One cup equals 1/2 cup? One cup equals 2 cups? Forget game theory, these people have never studied math at all ever. They really do need to watch more Sesame Street.
What would Karen do?
Packing for a move brings some interesting items back into the light.
Consequently, I have a situation and need some advice...
I have a tape of a concert my ex gave with two of his friends from high school. I believe this is the only recording of the concert. He's a semi-professional musician, and I think he'd probably like to have the recording. Whether or not he has a tape player is another question. We don't really talk, but I have his contact info. (Even though we don't talk, we keep each other updated on our whereabouts in case of emergency. Don't ask me what type of emergency would come up that I would need him for. I don't know. I don't know why he would need me, either. It's just something we do.)
To be fair, I have to tell you that I'm not good for him. I don't want to hurt him, but inevitably I do. Every time we try to be friends, things go along fine for a couple weeks/months and then he tells me he needs a break. In the seven years since we broke up, I have only seen this coming once (three years ago, when I got engaged). All the other times, I thought we were just sending the occasional casual email and everything was fine. Apparently, that's not the case. I'd like to think we have enough distance between us now, but I know I'm not the one who gets to make that call.
About a month ago, I sent him a message via facebook asking if he wanted the tape. He hasn't responded. He usually has to brood for a while before he responds to emails, but this is an unusually long time. Also, he just moved, so I'm sure he has other things on his mind. BUT, it's also possible that he just doesn't realize I sent him the message. I sent it via facebook because our most recent contact was over face book, and I figured that would be less threatening, but it's very possible that he doesn't know that he has a message in his inbox, if he doesn't use that function. Assuming he wants the tape, I'd like to send it to him before I move so I don't lose
it. But it's smaller than a bread box. Moving it to the new place is not a problem.
So, here are the possible scenarios, as I see them.
What would you do? Based on his past behavior, all four scenarios are possible, although I think 1a is the least likely considering that he just friended me a couple months ago. I think the tape is something he'd like to have, but I don't want to be creepy about sending it to him. Even though he knows I have his address, he probably doesn't think about me ever sending him mail, so if a random package from me showed up, he might be a little upset. Or he might just think "oh, a package from Marisa..." I really have no idea. (He made the last mail contact - he sent me a postcard when I moved to Pittsburgh - so I know he used to be open to mail.) I'd rather have his permission to send him the tape, but I don't want to throw the tape away if he wants it and doesn't want to contact me or hasn't seen my message.
So, I'm torn. Do I email him again? Call him? (This would probably be awkward. we haven't spoken in 5-6 years.) Wait another month? Throw the tape away?
Why is this bothering me so much?
Consequently, I have a situation and need some advice...
I have a tape of a concert my ex gave with two of his friends from high school. I believe this is the only recording of the concert. He's a semi-professional musician, and I think he'd probably like to have the recording. Whether or not he has a tape player is another question. We don't really talk, but I have his contact info. (Even though we don't talk, we keep each other updated on our whereabouts in case of emergency. Don't ask me what type of emergency would come up that I would need him for. I don't know. I don't know why he would need me, either. It's just something we do.)
To be fair, I have to tell you that I'm not good for him. I don't want to hurt him, but inevitably I do. Every time we try to be friends, things go along fine for a couple weeks/months and then he tells me he needs a break. In the seven years since we broke up, I have only seen this coming once (three years ago, when I got engaged). All the other times, I thought we were just sending the occasional casual email and everything was fine. Apparently, that's not the case. I'd like to think we have enough distance between us now, but I know I'm not the one who gets to make that call.
About a month ago, I sent him a message via facebook asking if he wanted the tape. He hasn't responded. He usually has to brood for a while before he responds to emails, but this is an unusually long time. Also, he just moved, so I'm sure he has other things on his mind. BUT, it's also possible that he just doesn't realize I sent him the message. I sent it via facebook because our most recent contact was over face book, and I figured that would be less threatening, but it's very possible that he doesn't know that he has a message in his inbox, if he doesn't use that function. Assuming he wants the tape, I'd like to send it to him before I move so I don't lose
it. But it's smaller than a bread box. Moving it to the new place is not a problem.
So, here are the possible scenarios, as I see them.
- He's ignoring me because:
- He doesn't want any contact - including the tape. Throw the tape away before I move
- He doesn't want to invite me back into his life, but he still wants the tape. Send him the tape whether or not he replies.
- He's not ignoring me. He hasn't replied because:
- He's stressed about his own move. Wait for him to reply.
- He hasn't seen my message. Email or call him.
What would you do? Based on his past behavior, all four scenarios are possible, although I think 1a is the least likely considering that he just friended me a couple months ago. I think the tape is something he'd like to have, but I don't want to be creepy about sending it to him. Even though he knows I have his address, he probably doesn't think about me ever sending him mail, so if a random package from me showed up, he might be a little upset. Or he might just think "oh, a package from Marisa..." I really have no idea. (He made the last mail contact - he sent me a postcard when I moved to Pittsburgh - so I know he used to be open to mail.) I'd rather have his permission to send him the tape, but I don't want to throw the tape away if he wants it and doesn't want to contact me or hasn't seen my message.
So, I'm torn. Do I email him again? Call him? (This would probably be awkward. we haven't spoken in 5-6 years.) Wait another month? Throw the tape away?
Why is this bothering me so much?
Sunday, March 02, 2008
Adventures in Consumerism
I have had two crazy encounters on check-out lines this weekend. Considering that I spent most of the weekend either packing or moving, that is quite a feat.
The first adventure was at Quizno's. We go there maybe twice a month because we can walk over. There are about 4 restaurants that we can walk to for take-out, but Quizno's doesn't require any planning or forethought, so it's our most common choice. I think Matt goes there for lunch a few times a month by himself, so this franchise is getting a lot of our money. Most weekends, we either go there or the Malaysian restaurant next to Borders (so we can browse while our food is prepared). Yes, we are quite boring.
Anyway, we walked to Quizno's, and there were 3 people behind the counter: a blond girl I see a lot, a skinny boy I didn't recognize, and the owner. There are also 3 customers: a couple finishing lunch at a table and a blond tanorexic woman who had just ordered. We walked up to the counter, but Tanorexia is chatting away to Blondie, who is barely registering any response. Tanny is chatting about ridiculous things like going to the gym and talking to some random people...I don't know. I figured that Tanny was friends with Blondie's mom or something because that was the level of interest Blondie was showing. Meanwhile, the owner was getting annoyed, so finally she turns to Tanny and calmly tells her that Blondie can't talk right now because she's working.
Tanny says "but she's done making my sandwich."
Manager points out that there are other customers.
And that's when Tanny flipped right the eff out. She starts yelling that she's not paying for her sandwich because the manager is rude and her husband is a lawyer and she knows what harassment is and she's never coming back because she's being harassed. (Meanwhile, back at the register, Skinny Boy, in the manner of clueless high school boys everywhere, is trying to ask Tanny if she wants lettuce on her sandwich.)
The manager yells back that Blondie works for her and she doesn't care who Tanny's husband is because Blondie has to serve all the customers who come in. Both of them want the last word, so they go back and forth with the "you're harassing me"/"Blondie is working" business for a few minutes before Tanny finally walks out.
Manager calmly tells Blondie that she can't chat with the customers like that, and Blondie starts laughing.
"I didn't WANT to talk to her," Blondie says. "I just didn't know what to do. I've never seen that woman before in my life."
The second incident was the exact opposite. We went to the store for a couple things and got in the express lane. Only after we unloaded our 10 items did we realize that the line was not moving at all. At first I thought it was because the people in front of us didn't appear to be able to count. They had mounds of groceries on the belt. I'm going to say at least 30 items. I was annoyed and bored, so I started making up a song about people who don't know how to count. (This is what I do when I'm bored. I think it embarasses Matt because by the time I come up with a decent second verse he's tapping on my hand or pointing at magazines or something.)
Sure enough, I got through one verse and was repeating it because I had to vamp while I came up with a chorus when Matt suddenly and urgently needed to hold hands. This distracted me enough to notice that the cashier (who was named Ari even though she was a girl and Ari is a boy's name) was chatting with the customers who can't count.
Seriously, she had a comment on every other item. I was so annoyed. This girl is holding up the line! Finally, Ari-who-is-a-girl manages to ring them up and it's our turn...and she starts trying to talk to us.
"Hey guys! Did you have a good weekend?" Ari-who-is-a-girl chirped at us. I just stared at her. She didn't seem to care. "ooh...are you making soup? Do you like this bread? " Then she crossed the line "Oww...I pinched my finger, see?" She held her finger in front of my face. I nodded, because I did see her finger. She was waving it in my face, so I assumed that was the point. I mean, I wasn't about to kiss it or anything.
So now, just before I leave Princeton, I have to arrange a meeting between Tanny and Ari-who-is-a-girl. Then they can talk for hours about ridiculous things that no one cares about, and I will not be here to be annoyed.
Everybody wins!
The first adventure was at Quizno's. We go there maybe twice a month because we can walk over. There are about 4 restaurants that we can walk to for take-out, but Quizno's doesn't require any planning or forethought, so it's our most common choice. I think Matt goes there for lunch a few times a month by himself, so this franchise is getting a lot of our money. Most weekends, we either go there or the Malaysian restaurant next to Borders (so we can browse while our food is prepared). Yes, we are quite boring.
Anyway, we walked to Quizno's, and there were 3 people behind the counter: a blond girl I see a lot, a skinny boy I didn't recognize, and the owner. There are also 3 customers: a couple finishing lunch at a table and a blond tanorexic woman who had just ordered. We walked up to the counter, but Tanorexia is chatting away to Blondie, who is barely registering any response. Tanny is chatting about ridiculous things like going to the gym and talking to some random people...I don't know. I figured that Tanny was friends with Blondie's mom or something because that was the level of interest Blondie was showing. Meanwhile, the owner was getting annoyed, so finally she turns to Tanny and calmly tells her that Blondie can't talk right now because she's working.
Tanny says "but she's done making my sandwich."
Manager points out that there are other customers.
And that's when Tanny flipped right the eff out. She starts yelling that she's not paying for her sandwich because the manager is rude and her husband is a lawyer and she knows what harassment is and she's never coming back because she's being harassed. (Meanwhile, back at the register, Skinny Boy, in the manner of clueless high school boys everywhere, is trying to ask Tanny if she wants lettuce on her sandwich.)
The manager yells back that Blondie works for her and she doesn't care who Tanny's husband is because Blondie has to serve all the customers who come in. Both of them want the last word, so they go back and forth with the "you're harassing me"/"Blondie is working" business for a few minutes before Tanny finally walks out.
Manager calmly tells Blondie that she can't chat with the customers like that, and Blondie starts laughing.
"I didn't WANT to talk to her," Blondie says. "I just didn't know what to do. I've never seen that woman before in my life."
The second incident was the exact opposite. We went to the store for a couple things and got in the express lane. Only after we unloaded our 10 items did we realize that the line was not moving at all. At first I thought it was because the people in front of us didn't appear to be able to count. They had mounds of groceries on the belt. I'm going to say at least 30 items. I was annoyed and bored, so I started making up a song about people who don't know how to count. (This is what I do when I'm bored. I think it embarasses Matt because by the time I come up with a decent second verse he's tapping on my hand or pointing at magazines or something.)
Sure enough, I got through one verse and was repeating it because I had to vamp while I came up with a chorus when Matt suddenly and urgently needed to hold hands. This distracted me enough to notice that the cashier (who was named Ari even though she was a girl and Ari is a boy's name) was chatting with the customers who can't count.
Seriously, she had a comment on every other item. I was so annoyed. This girl is holding up the line! Finally, Ari-who-is-a-girl manages to ring them up and it's our turn...and she starts trying to talk to us.
"Hey guys! Did you have a good weekend?" Ari-who-is-a-girl chirped at us. I just stared at her. She didn't seem to care. "ooh...are you making soup? Do you like this bread? " Then she crossed the line "Oww...I pinched my finger, see?" She held her finger in front of my face. I nodded, because I did see her finger. She was waving it in my face, so I assumed that was the point. I mean, I wasn't about to kiss it or anything.
So now, just before I leave Princeton, I have to arrange a meeting between Tanny and Ari-who-is-a-girl. Then they can talk for hours about ridiculous things that no one cares about, and I will not be here to be annoyed.
Everybody wins!
Work Drama
The work drama continues. Apparently, the employee newsletter snafu is counting towards the zero-tolerance policy, and there was just another incident where we were printing invitations, and the project owner realized the time was wrong on them after they printed but before they were mailed, so now everyone who proofread that project also has a "needs improvement" for the year. The situation truly sucks. There is just no way to excel and no way to recover. If you have a perfect year, then you're "meeting expectations." If you mess up once in January, you've failed for the year. So frustrating.
Meanwhile, back at the ESAT ranch, we had to give our presentation on Friday, with mixed results. No, no. Let me rephrase. Most people were on board with all our suggestions...except my manager who took the whole thing personally and "couldn't talk" to me for an hour afterward because she needed "calming time." Also, the director decided - yesterday, in front of everyone, after hearing the presentation twice - that the third issue we were ASSIGNED was stupid.
I just want to bang my head on the wall.
And, finally, I got a blue line back from the printer on Friday, and the printer had flagged a minor graphics error. So then I was a little nervous that catching something on a blue line could lead to dinging since we have to pay for those corrections. Then I was upset thinking that whoever I give the proofreading to will get dinged, so they're basically asking me to decide who gets dinged...which doesn't make a lot of sense, but I was upset.
So I talked to one of the managers, and her advice was...wait for it...
Remove the printer's note and quietly circulate the document, hoping that no one else picks up on the error, then quietly ask the printer to make the correction.
Sounds like a plan, no?
Meanwhile, back at the ESAT ranch, we had to give our presentation on Friday, with mixed results. No, no. Let me rephrase. Most people were on board with all our suggestions...except my manager who took the whole thing personally and "couldn't talk" to me for an hour afterward because she needed "calming time." Also, the director decided - yesterday, in front of everyone, after hearing the presentation twice - that the third issue we were ASSIGNED was stupid.
I just want to bang my head on the wall.
And, finally, I got a blue line back from the printer on Friday, and the printer had flagged a minor graphics error. So then I was a little nervous that catching something on a blue line could lead to dinging since we have to pay for those corrections. Then I was upset thinking that whoever I give the proofreading to will get dinged, so they're basically asking me to decide who gets dinged...which doesn't make a lot of sense, but I was upset.
So I talked to one of the managers, and her advice was...wait for it...
Remove the printer's note and quietly circulate the document, hoping that no one else picks up on the error, then quietly ask the printer to make the correction.
Sounds like a plan, no?
Apartment Drama
Basically, we have to move in 2 weeks, but Matt still hasn't accepted a job, so two weeks ago he finally decided that he doesn't want to move to CA (probably) so I started frantically looking for apartments. Dozens of apartments. Literally dozens of nasty dirty apartments. All of these apartments have been at least an hour from where we live, so just going to visit them requires planning. We have to move in two weeks, and we still haven't signed a lease on a new place. So, I am a little freaking out. And my mom blames me for all of this because I'm not "stepping up and
taking care of Matt." Yes, that's right. It is solely my responsibility to arrange housing for the two of us because he is trying to graduate, and it is solely my fault that we're in a mess now. Matt is completely stressed out and deserves a lot of slack, but come on. Finding a place to live is
not a "that's ok, honey, I'll take care of it" moment.
We finally found a place last weekend, and Matt was supposed to go fill out the application on Monday because their leasing office is only open from 10-5 on weekdays...but then we found out that they only allow 1 cat. So then he stormed out and called to yell at me about how I have to
tell him what lies he's supposed to tell people because he can't keep them straight for me. Also he left his squash racquet in my car so I was keeping him from spending time with his friends. (This is the kind of moment when I will cut him some slack, but it was still a problem.) I am at work while he's yelling at me, and I don't have any of the paperwork they want to file an application, so I was freaking out that we were going to lose this apartment and not find another one. So, like any rational woman, I went down to the gym to calm down...and started crying on the treadmill.
So Tuesday I had to use vacation time to go fill out an application (including a "pet application," which is ridiculous). And Matt is still freaked out about having 2 cats in the apartment when they think we only have one - even though that is exactly what we've been doing for over a year now. He seems to think they're going to come in, see the cats, and kick us out. So Shadow is going to stay with Matt's mom for a couple months...
Unless we get another apartment. That's right. Last night, at 10 pm, another person called me that their apartment is still available. It's a 2-bedroom in the middle of town (small town, but still) and they would allow both cats. I had called them last week and they were just returning my call - plus they didn't rerun the ad we responded to, so I think they rented it and the deal fell through last minute.
taking care of Matt." Yes, that's right. It is solely my responsibility to arrange housing for the two of us because he is trying to graduate, and it is solely my fault that we're in a mess now. Matt is completely stressed out and deserves a lot of slack, but come on. Finding a place to live is
not a "that's ok, honey, I'll take care of it" moment.
We finally found a place last weekend, and Matt was supposed to go fill out the application on Monday because their leasing office is only open from 10-5 on weekdays...but then we found out that they only allow 1 cat. So then he stormed out and called to yell at me about how I have to
tell him what lies he's supposed to tell people because he can't keep them straight for me. Also he left his squash racquet in my car so I was keeping him from spending time with his friends. (This is the kind of moment when I will cut him some slack, but it was still a problem.) I am at work while he's yelling at me, and I don't have any of the paperwork they want to file an application, so I was freaking out that we were going to lose this apartment and not find another one. So, like any rational woman, I went down to the gym to calm down...and started crying on the treadmill.
So Tuesday I had to use vacation time to go fill out an application (including a "pet application," which is ridiculous). And Matt is still freaked out about having 2 cats in the apartment when they think we only have one - even though that is exactly what we've been doing for over a year now. He seems to think they're going to come in, see the cats, and kick us out. So Shadow is going to stay with Matt's mom for a couple months...
Unless we get another apartment. That's right. Last night, at 10 pm, another person called me that their apartment is still available. It's a 2-bedroom in the middle of town (small town, but still) and they would allow both cats. I had called them last week and they were just returning my call - plus they didn't rerun the ad we responded to, so I think they rented it and the deal fell through last minute.
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