I’m Turning Into My Dad!

Yeah, you read that right. I’ve transformed into my dad. As my dad is a self-admitted crazy man, as Rachel (and countless others who have met him in real life) can vouch for, this distresses me greatly. :P

However, thankfully, the particular issue that has forced me to utter this haunting phrase, is just that I can hit my snooze button for hours.

My mom and I used to mock my dad because his alarm will start going off at 5AM and he would still be laying in bed at 9AM! Worst part: He doesn’t even hit the snooze. He will just let his alarm clock go off for four goddamn hours.

I UNDERSTAND NOW, DAD. I apologize.

At the beginning of this quarter, I was waking up around 7AM every day, no problems, and getting extra work done in the morning. I thought not having class until 11AM (although that means I have to catch my bus at 9:45AM because I live so far from school) meant I’d have more time to be productive in the morning!

Yeah, no. I apparently don’t know myself at all. Alarm starts going off at 7AM. I set three separate alarms¹ on my phone and it generally goes off every 3-5 minutes. By the time 9AM, I’ve probably hit snooze about 30-40 times. Perhaps choosing the Firefly theme song, “Piazza, New York Catcher” by Belle & Sebastian, and “Willkommen” from Cabaret as my alarm clock tones wasn’t the wisest idea I’ve ever had.

So I just purchased the world’s most annoying alarm clock, except I purchased it from Amazon despite my love for ThinkGeek. Saving $15USD, plus free shipping demolishes all brand loyalty.

Am I the only one who cannot force themselves to get up? Also, for those of you who can’t get your asses out of bed, are you also severe procrastinators like I am? I think there’s a correlation there. ;)

1. Mostly because I can do that weird iPhone swipey motion in my sleep and turn off my alarm entirely without actually opening my eyes. *facepalm* ↩

When Creepers Attack

Yesterday my day was invaded by many, many creepers. Being the creeper magnet that I am, I should not be shocked by this and yet I always am.

Yesterday I went to the mall with my friend, Kari, to have conveyor belt sushi (at a restaurant next to the mall) and go to a movie. I’d never had sushi before and I loved it. :D I’m excited to go again!

After we left the sushi restaurant and actually entered the mall, we still had a couple hours to kill before our movie started so we headed for the Apple Store so I could check out the new 27″ iMac¹.

On our way, a crazy kiosk man comes at us from the side, shoves dixie cups containing a mysterious melon-colored liquid into our hands, and commands us to drink. He kept promising there wasn’t tequila in it².

And you know what we did?

WE DRANK IT. Our only excuse was that we were frightened of the crazy kiosk man who kept talking about tequila and how he bites his nails. He also demanded we come over to his kiosk (no idea which one it was!) and let him perform an unnamed “procedure” which would only take 50 seconds. At this point, I inch around and hide behind Kari. We decline his offer about 8 times and declare we have a movie to catch and then make a break for it.

The fact that the movie didn’t start for over two hours? Minor detail.

The first thing we both do, as soon as we reach our Apple Store refuge, is pull out our phones and tweet that shit so fast. You know you’re a little addicted when… </nerds>

We’ve decided that side of the mall is dead to us now. We can never return.

Then we saw Cirque du Freak which wasn’t as bad as I was expecting! Despite its flaws, I actually enjoyed it–it was funny. However, I have never seen a movie filled with so many damn creepers in it. And everybody just went along with the creepers, without mentioning the fact that they were clearly the creepiest creepers who ever creeped!

And on the way home, Kari and I were convinced the bus driver was going to kill us all. The PA system crackled and in a super-creepy and wheezy voice, informed us that the bus was past Tukwila Boulevard or something. Then he kept randomly stopping the bus on the side of the road for a few moments in random, completely dark areas and we kept having these “Oh my God, where the hell are we? Are we going to die?!!” moments every time it happened. I kept seeing a stereotypical horror movie play out in my head. The driver would slowly get up from his seat and turn to face the passengers. Perhaps a large scar would grace his face. And then we’d all effing die and that would be the beginning of the horror film. We’d be dead before the title even showed.

He also blew right past a group of teenage girls standing at the bus stop despite the fact that bus is the only bus that stops at that stop. It may have been the luckiest thing that ever happened to him because I’m surprised I made it out of there alive.

1. I’m trying to decide between a brand new 27″ iMac (the one with the 2.8GHz i7 processor) and a refurbished MacBook Pro (17″, antiglare, 3.06GHz Core 2 Duo) and wasn’t sure if a 27″ screen is too huge for the space I have. Another post is in the works about this. ↩
2. Klaus (aka Ambs) says: ………….. if someone’s like “THERE IS NO TEQUILA,” that means there is rum. ↩

Remind Me to Never Create Hetero Sims Again

So, my female sim is having freaking triplets, right?

While she’s in labor, her husband is running about like his hair is on fire, completely flipping out.

And then goes and gets himself some leftover apple cobbler, surveying the debacle from the kitchen table.

All the while his wife is still dropping babies all over the g-ddamn place.

And then, after the whole ordeal is over, he has the nerve to complain that HE is tired.

 

 

So I killed him.

When Ladybugs Attack

So this morning I woke up.

I know, this is an enthralling tale already. You can hardly contain yourself, you know it. Just wait, it gets even more action-packed.

I roll out of bed and nearly kill myself with all the crap that’s on my floor that’s left over from that time I started cleaning and then stopped, thus leaving it messier than it had been before I tried to tidy.

Anyway, after finally locating my bag of clean clothes, I try to get dressed. This includes putting on my bra, right?

NO.

I go to grab my bra and there’s an effing ladybug crawling over it.

What the hell? It’s nearly February in Seattle and it’s cold.

Oh, and the other day I hopped out of the shower¹ and went to put on my jeans and there was a ladybug clinging to those too. What the hell is going on with the ladybugs?

Now I’m afraid of clothing and I don’t particularly want to be a nudist. Ladybugs were cool when I was eight, but I don’t want them crawling over my boobs, quite frankly.

1. Not literally because I would die. I’m too uncoordinated. ↩

Customers Suck

Okay, I understand people find the holiday season stressful. I also understand that people find the prospect of being snowed in stressful.

However, this does not mean you can throw a shopping basket at me when I tell you that the Transformers DVD that is on sale today (or, rather, Saturday when this happened) will not be on sale tomorrow, even if you put it on hold at guest services.

Yes, I’m serious. A “guest” threw a shopping basket at me because he was supposedly freaking out whilst trying to find provisions, but apparently had enough time to pick out a Transformers DVD set.

Everybody is freaking out because they think they’re going to lose power. Everybody is foraging for food. You are not a beautiful and unique snowflake.

After I told him he wouldn’t get the sales price, he started going off and spewing a bunch of nonsensical bullshit:

1. “I’ve been living here for 30 years and…” (So what? My store hasn’t even been there for 35 years.)
2. “I’m ex-military and…” (Is that a threat?)
3. “I’ve been to three stores trying to get provisions and I don’t need this right now!” (Dude, you’re buying ping pong balls. How is that helping your search?)

Then he threw the basket at me. I backed up into the corner of my little register section and he began yelling at me to not freak out on him because he “doesn’t need this right now.”

I informed him he couldn’t attack me and that pissed him off. He said he wasn’t attacking me, to get better customer service skills, and that his generation had to deal with “it” and so I have to as well.

Excuse me? Your generation wasn’t typically known for throwing things at shop girls.

After I give him his receipt and run away, I get sort of freaked out. When someone’s in my face, I don’t really back down. I finally found my manager, who I normally hate, and she went over with security and kicked him out of the store.

This is where it got interesting: He started rambling about being ex-military and war and some incident in Germany and whatnot.

Here’s the thing: he was only about 35, max. There is no way he was ever in a war in Germany. And again I say, so what? What does Germany have to do with throwing a basket at me?

Bastard.

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