Tuesday, October 27, 2009

A New Challenge

I hate visiting the doctor. It's not that I have an un-healthy lifestyle, I'm just always paranoid that the doctor will tell me I have some terrible disease that's un-curable. Every disease imaginable, my family has had, five different kinds of cancers (all female related), heart disease, diabetes, glaucoma, I could go on and on. My sisters and I are convinced that at least one of us will end up with some disabling disease or other concus-of-the-boncus by the time we're 50. That being said, I try really hard to stay healthy, but regardless, I'm petrified that they'll find SOMETHING wrong with me at any given point in time. The couple times they did find things wrong, I thought I would surely die. Yet again, although I am here, typing away, perfectly healthy, I'm afraid they'll find a disease that will cause me to suffer in agony.

I recently went to see my new doctor-new location, new insurance, new doctor. She of course commented on my high cholesterol. Wanting to know when I had my blood last tested, how I was eating, ect. Before Ryan got out of the Navy and we entered the seventh circle of financial hell, I was eating very clean and my cholesterol was normal and under control. Since we can no longer afford to spend hundreds of dollars on organic food each month, we have been eating according to our budget-condensed soups, spaghetti, chicken, frozen veggies, ect. I am quite certain that when I get my blood tested next week, my blood sugar, cholesterol, and God knows what else, will be a wreck again. Thus, I begin a new challenge-eating clean on an extremely tight budget. SURELY, there must be a way to eat a clean, healthy diet without taking in pounds of salt, carbs, sugar, fat, and other processed junk. If you have any ideas, recipes, websites, ect. do send them my way!

Saturday, October 24, 2009

No More

Have you ever started to type up a post and then realized, "Oh crap I can't post this, my mother-in-law reads my blog", or my sister, or co-worker or whoever? You then either, curb your post so that it makes absolutely no sense in order to hide your raw honesty or delete the post all together. I have done that on several occasions. Mostly because my husband has gotten a few phone calls from people we know that have read my blog and said they were worried about me, or the office is rather tense because the girl I complained about in my blog, read the post and her feelers are hurt.

I realize that my passionate HATE for my previous job, which I actually miss BTW, was a bit intense, but no, I wasn't REALLY going to purchase dynamite off the internet and blow up the building. I may have a tendency to be a tad overly-dramatic, so chill. Writing is also my outlet, so although I may seem pissed off, angry, and what not; rest assured that after I vent and get it off my chest, most of the time I'm fine about 20 minutes later.

All this being said, I no longer am curbing my postings. If you don't like it, you don't have to read it.

1. I have a swearing habit, it's not lady-like, it's quite vulgar, but my little sisters (and when I say little, they're really just younger-18 and 22) read this and I was curbing my foul language for them; however, the last time I went home my sisters language was a fair resemblance of mine, so no more.

2. I'm fairly certain that Ryan will get roughly a phone call a week now from someone concerned about my mental health. Ryan will laugh it off, assure them I'm fine, read the post they were concerned about, and wonder why everyone has their panties in a bunch. If these people are THAT concerned about me they'll call ME and not my husband. Enough said.

3. If I want to blog about the guy that offered me an all expenses paid vacation to the other side of the country to have a threesome with his wife, I will. Don't judge until you have the full story (and I say "until" because I know you'll form your own opinions anyway), and no I didn't go. I value my marriage and Ryan and I aren't swingers, even if homeslice and his wife are hot as hell.

4. Having a separate, anonymous blog is too much work. I keep forgetting about it and I'm pretty sure I've given out my identity at least 5x on that thing.

5. My life is not one full of secrets, and scandals. The threesome thing was a once in a lifetime thing. (Really, how often does someone get offered a plane ticket to fly out and fuck two gorgeous people? Let me re-phrase that, how often does a person who doesn't engage in intercourse as their profession get offered a plane ticket to fly out and fuck two gorgeous people?) So, if you're thinking that you will now be allowed to enter my scandalous life of...scandalousness *furrowed brow/side look*, you're very mistaken, my friend. It is simply raw honesty from here on out.

Friday, October 23, 2009

"I'm Sorry To Say So But, Sadly It's True That Bang-ups And Hang-ups Can Happen To You"

A wise man that Dr. Suess.

Yes yes, I realize all I do lately is complain about the job market but seriously THIS takes the cake. I have nine years of accounting experience, NINE. No, I don't have a BS, and my AA specializes is Theater, BUT my degree will be complete in just over a year, and I have a plethora of accounting knowledge. I'm a self-starter, motivated, ambitious, professional...well, most of the time, you get my drift. I have gone to job search sites, newspapers, temp agencies, the mall, and now Craig's List looking for SOMETHING, anything. Although my work experience is vast, I absolutely am not beyond any mundane task, nor do I feel anything is beneath me. Yes, I am desperate at this point.

Today started not unlike any other day. Task #1-make coffee. Task #2-take Sniffy McSnifferson outside. Task #3-find a daggum job. I made the usual rounds, Monster, CareerBuilder, the newspaper, the temp agency websites, Craig's List. I'm convinced that the temp agencies make up jobs so that people contact them. Maybe they have a quota to make, after they get 15 people to fill out a cabinet full of paperwork each, they get a China set or something. Who the hell knows. I get to Craig's List and there's TONS of positions that I don't recall seeing on there before. I get super excited and send about 15 resumes out. I'm feeling quite chipper at this point, you throw enough crap at the wall it'll stick. SURELY, I'll get an email back from someone. Well, I did; however, it was not what I expected.

I heard back from about four different employers; all of which directed me to their company website to fill out an application. As dreadfully time consuming and tedious as this is, it is, unfortunately, a necessary evil. One company required a photo to be attached to my resume. I thought to myself, "Well that's a welcome mat for a law suit." At this point I have nothing to lose, I attached a head-shot. The next website not only had about five gajillion pop-ups and subscriptions you had to weed through, it looked like it might have been the first website ever designed. DOS in website form. The 3rd asked for my social security number and bank account info. Seriously. I wonder how many people actually fill that info in. The 4th asked me to pull my own credit report and email them my credit score. This one I emailed to "Bob" for him to look at, it just seems fishy. ("Bob" is the ex-roommate/co-worker/IT genius/drinking buddy/super awesome friend.)

I am extremely pissed about this. Scammers/spammers are now using job postings to screw people over? Like us jobless peeps aren't screwed over as it is. Have YOU tried finding a job out there? Yeah, have fun with that. I'm very annoyed about this. I think I'm so annoyed because I've worked so hard to get where I am, and now I'm applying for part time receptionist positions and getting scammed while in the process of trying to help pay bills. I don't even know what else to say...

Thursday, October 22, 2009

Maybe I Should Have Dressed Like A Vagabond?

I went in to see the District Manager of this clothing store in the mall, ya know the one where I was told to come back about a management position. Well, I went back and was told that I only qualify for an assistant management position, which is fine. She started to say that they have so many people applying and only so many jobs, and I let her know that I was open-minded in regards to other positions (in other words I need a job, so I'll do anything, including but not limited to sweeping the cobwebs out of the corners, folding T-shirts, and fetching coffee). She made it very clear, I think, that she just was not interested. She said she'd call me next week for another interview.

Now, the girl ahead of me also applied for management. She was wearing jeans, an old sweater, her hair looked like it hadn't been brushed in 3 days and was sporting a stache. She was hired on the spot as a stock associate. WTF. I'm in a suit, heels, I'm clean, my fingernails are not ghastly long or painfully short, I'm not showing cleavage, my resume is pristine, I'm not even wearing black eye make-up and I'm told I'll get a call back, move along.

I'm slightly clutching to a small hope that she was just busy and didn't have time to do an in-depth interview as she would have liked, and that she DOES want me for management, and I WILL get a call next week? Please, the voice in my head says, can it and move on, she's not interested. That blasted voice is normally right.

Wednesday, October 21, 2009

Holiday Help

I have come to the determination that there are more "how to buy a house shows" and cook-off shows than any other genre on television. WELL, cake baking is pretty close to being neck and neck with the cook-off shows. Typical Americans, we want to own our own homes and see a good old competition involving food. I bet the dude who invented the cook-off shows is rolling in the dough...er, moola...whatev. Anyways...

I went to the mall, thinking SURELY there are stores looking for holiday help, it's that time of year blah blah blah. Well, come to find out there are only about 3 stores that were advertising, help wanted, needed, ect. I've worked retail before in short stints, usually between other jobs or for extra Christmas money. Every time I've applied for retail positions, especially around the holidays, it's been an easy "fill out this application and I'll page a manager." After talking to the manager for 20 minutes, bada bing bada boom, come in on Monday for training, you're hired. This of course has nothing to do with my dashing smile, intense good looks, excellent fashion sense or dazzling charm..."throat clearing"; it simply has to do with the fact that their store is about to be slammed and they desperately need help, I'll do.

I don't know if the lack of jobs has made the retail stores more choosy over their candidates or what, but all three places told me one of the following: "Can you come in on Sat. for a group interview?", "Ok cool, if management likes your application, they'll call you", and "Can you come in later this week to see the district manager, I think you qualify as management." The latter of course is the most promising, but I'm not hanging my hat on it. I'd be surprised if they hired me considering all three times working retail, MIGHT total to six months retail experience. I thought for sure, with the holidays right around the corner, that the mall would be a given. Guess not. Why'd I have to go and neuter Thor? I could be whoring his ass out and making extra cash. This, my friends, is what happens when you have bills to pay and no money to pay them with. Yep, you start trying to whore your pets out. Damn it's sad.

Tuesday, October 20, 2009

I'm A Dumbass And The Reasons Thereof

I have done some dumb things in my life. I think each and every one of us can look back over our lives and say at least once, "Yeah, I probably shouldn't have done that." AND there's always that one big mistake that takes the cake, that one HUGE error that wins the gold medal of all dumbass things that you've ever done. I have the typical, "Ugh, I totally shouldn't have dated that guy," or "I shouldn't have had that last mixed drink", but my one mistake that has come back to bite me in the ass and haunt me for my entire adult life was not finishing my bachelor's degree. I look back and think, "What in God's name was I thinking????" Well, I know what I was thinking, I was thinking that my boyfriend proposed and as soon as he comes back from deployment I was gonna get married, that I would be a personal trainer making tons of money and live happily ever after. I finished my associate's degree, got married, and started personal training soon after that, realized I hated it and thus began the flagellation that is continuing education after you've been out of school for 5+ years.

As I was approaching graduation from that community college way back when, I had applied to a couple universities, well then Ryan proposed and my mind wasn't at all concerned about school. I then got an acceptance letter from my dream school. (Well, NYU is way to rich for my blood. I'm talking my dream school in SC.) Clemson was offering me a scholarship and I was to begin in the fall. I got married in June, moved to VA and although that blasted tiny little voice in the back of my head told me I would regret not finishing right away, especially at Clemson, I told it to hush and moved on. HENCE, I'm a dumbass, reason #1.

Reason #2-Although I saw that my training career came to a screeching halt, and that I would return to the accounting world, I did not go back to school right away. I waited. Why did I wait? I have no idea. The timing wasn't right, I didn't have enough money, I had to work to pay bills. Excuses, excuses. Losing my job at BlackHawk was my eye opener. Without a degree, jobs are limited and the pay is shit. You can have all the experience in the world, and you hear everyone tell you that experience weighs heavy when deciding who to hire, but in all honesty, you MUST have a degree if you want to get paid decently. I have a crap ton of experience, the most money I've ever made is $30k/yr. before taxes. All because I don't have a degree. Experience only gets you so far people, TRUST ME, I know.

I got the kick in the ass I needed. Found a school, got loans (much to my dismay) sucked it up and began the nauseating journey of going back to school. Although I'm working on my degree now, and I'll be finished in just over a year I am STILL paying for not having a bachelor's. Especially in this job market. It's so competitive, and the pay is lousy, and that's for the people who HAVE a bachelor's degree. You can imagine what it's like for us folks without one.

So, lesson of the day, DON'T WAIT, haste makes waste. The sooner you do things to make your life better the sooner you reap the benefits of your hard work. That's what I keep telling myself anyway...

Friday, October 16, 2009

Housewife Head

This whole housewife thing really is not for me. Like...at all. I'm fairly certain that my IQ has dropped about 30 points since I've been a stay-at-home spouse. Some people are just cut out for certain things. I know a few girls who are stay-at-home moms/housewives, and they're AWESOME at it. They're intelligent and could absolutely have careers if they wanted, but they choose to stay at home and take care of the kids and the husband. I, on the other hand, am made for the career world. I miss the interaction with people, I like having a corporate ladder to climb, I like deadlines, the whooshing sound they make as they go by is invigorating.

To add to the mess that is me, I'm naturally scatterbrained, hence why everything has it's place and it needs to be in that place otherwise I will lose it and won't be able to find it ever again. I'm a list maker not because I like making lists, but because if I don't I'll either forget or I'll confuse things and end up telling the plumber that our AC needs repair, or go to Walmart to drop off the drycleaning. During my last two weeks in VA, "Bob" found my hair dryer in the freezer and Thor's training aid in the microwave. This is what happens when Stephanie loses her mind. I would say that having a lot going on keeps me focused, but I think it depends on what exactly I have going on. It's complicated to say the least.

I have confused a total of five conversations that Ryan and I have had in the last two weeks, forgotten about 16 things-including but not limited to, telling the plumber that BOTH showerheads need to be replaced, attaching my resume to the email I sent about a job, calling the insurance company about our fire policy, getting our parking decals from the condo office, and not paying a bill on time. I KNOW! I have nothing better to do and I can't even remember basic crap, it's completely ridiculous! I have no idea what's wrong with me.

The only thing I can associate this with is when women get pregnant and they get all scatterbrained and hormonally crazy. Baby brain, pregnant head, call it what you will, I have the non-career version-housewife head. (No, I'm not pregnant. We can't even afford spaghetti, being preggo right now would be very bad.) I really need to get my crap together and FOCUS. I fell asleep after the plumber left today and slept five hours, after sleeping eight hours last night. I don't know how, maybe the scale is wrong, but I've lost 12 pounds in the last two weeks. I have no idea what my deal is, it's completely ridiculous.

Thursday, October 15, 2009

One Is The Loneliest Number

How sad is it that you actually get excited about interviews just so you can converse with people? I have been here about two weeks, the condo is set up, I've watched just about every re-run of Full House imaginable, I've re-read as many of my books that I can stand, and harass my friends through messenger on a daily basis. Surely there are no more websites to surf, yes, surely I have seen ALL the websites. When Ryan gets home from work I practically pounce on him wanted to know about his day, I go into lengthy descriptions of what I'm cooking for dinner and talk about the Jerry Springer show and the episode of Full House where Comet goes to obedience school. Dear GOD what has become of me!?!? Poor guy just wants to sit down with a beer and do his paperwork for the day and here I am reaching for any bit of conversation I can squeeze out of him in between gulps of beer, shifting of papers and typing on his laptop.

I know two people here in Louisiana outside of whom I live with. My landlord and my recruiter. I guess it's silly to think that I would have a friend or two within two weeks of living here. Ryan had already been in VA for a year or two before we got married, and if you've ever been in the military, you know that they ban together. Friendships form fast in the military, I guess you just know that your active duty member comes and goes, because of that you go into friendships being open-minded, looking for companionship. Ryan's only been here a few more weeks longer than I, and he doesn't work with people. He's a field guy, the corporate office is in Charleston and the closest guy that Ryan's works with is in Texas, kinda far to have dinner or grab coffee.

As cute and aware as Thor can be when I tell him how ridiculous the chick on Springer is being, he just can't perk up his ears or tilt his head to the side quite enough to make the equivalent of a conversation involving words.

Wednesday, October 14, 2009

Fleur De Lis

The Fleur De Lis is everywhere around here, especially in New Orleans. I knew the fleur de lis represented a flower, but I doubt that it would be everywhere around here, on clothing, tattooed on people, on The Saints football helmets, on billboards, painted on the side of buildings, ect., if it ONLY represented a flower. So I looked it up. Google knows everything. Apparently, the fleur de lis is originally the symbol for French monarchy, however, the fleur de lis was often associated with being a traitor to the state after Louisiana came under the control of Spain before the French Revolution and WAYYYYY before we purchased the land from the French. After Hurricane Katrina, the fleur de lis became known to represnt the hardheaded resolve to recover New Orleans and the pride associated with the city. Still, I wonder if people know what the REAL/ORIGINAL meaning of this symbol is. I wonder if it would be proudly displayed by...EVERYONE if they took the time to research what it really means. Maybe it doesn't matter, in their minds it's pride for the city of New Orleans, pride for the state of Louisiana. Much like South Carolina's battle flag.

The Confederate Flag is all over South Carolina (also known as the Rebel State), because they like to live in the past....I MEAN, they're proud of their heritage. I suppose it is the same with with Fleur De Lis here in Louisiana-heritage for their state. However, South Carolina's flag never changed meanings, it's always been a representation of individualism and the Civil War.

I shouldn't judge, I'm Native American, I'm proud of my hertiage. I hold on to my tribe's traditions, and want to pass them on to my kids. I suppose that South Carolinians, and Louisianians want to do the same, yet unlike Louisiana, mine and SC's traditions are actually native of America. South Carolina's battle flag, though some look it as Civil War memoribilia, is a symbol of South Carolina as the Rebel State of AMERICA. Lol, the French hate us, and here we are displaying their symbol of monarchy all over the place. Why? I guess because we have pride in New Orleans and this territory once belonged to France a long long time ago. There wasn't even a battle for Louisiana, so it's not like this area was STOLEN, or TAKEN or FOUGHT over, it was purchased, ya know...the Louisiana PURCHASE.

I have the Kanji symbol for lover tattooed on the inside of my forearm arm, you best bet your buttons that I went to every person I knew, that knew Japanese and asked them what the symbol said, and researched what the symbol meant and if it ever meant anything other than lover before I had it tattooed on my arm, JUST TO BE SURE before I permanently inked it on me. I also have a dreamcatcher on my ankle, for my tribe it means, in English, "Sweet Dreams." For other tribes the dreamcatcher has a different story, but all are associated with dreaming; although the stories behind it may differ, that symbol doesn't stand for anything else. You'd think some of these people would research before they got "the fleur" tattooed on their backs, arms, ect. Maybe they did, hell I don't know. So I wonder which meaning each person is taking pride in when I see it on a girls purse, or tattooed on someone, or painted on a building? At least we all knew what my friend in college, who had a battle flag tattooed on her lower back, stood for.

I must be completely ignorant, or close-minded on this, or something, beacuse I just don't get it. Maybe there's a large French descendant population here...or maybe people just choose to go by the fleur's most recent meaning and they don't care what it meant in the past.

Monday, October 12, 2009

Damn Dog

So...Thor bit someone today. Let me give you a little background. The Ridgeback breed are natural guard dogs, and in VA Thor was always pretty protective of his backyard. Well, we had a 6ft. privacy fence and him barking once or twice at passersby was never a problem. Well, we no longer live in VA, no longer have a backyard, and we live in a packed condo-plex full of people that come and go. Needless to say, Thor has a little adjusting to do.

I took Thor out to pee, we have a grassy area right next to our door, along with that grassy area is a sidewalk that leads to the condo's behind ours. At the exact moment that I saw a guy step onto the sidewalk, Thor bolted for him. Try as I might to restrain him, he is 92 lbs. of solid muscle and I am 115 lbs., not of solid muscle. Thor reached the guy, who in turn stood very straight and looked away from Thor (which is exactly what you're supposed to do when an aggressive dog approaches you). I tried to gain control of Thor and told the guy, "I'm sorry, he's ok, he won't hurt you." He responded with, "He just bit me." Stunned I said, "What? Oh my god, are you ok?" He said he was fine, but that he did just bite him. In my stunned and panicked state I didn't even think to ask him if I could see where Thor bit him to see if Thor broke the skin. I hurried Thor back in the house and when I reprimanded him, he lunged at me. Thor has lunged at me before, but I brushed it off as him being stressed out and me not handling the situation well.

I'm worried that even though the dude said he was fine and he looked fine, that he may have a mark where he said Thor bit him and he'll complain. Thor could be taken away, and we could be asked to leave the condo-plex. Ryan of course said that won't happen, that if the dude didn't complain right then, it's unlikely that he'll complain now. Ryan doesn't know if homeslice will get into his condo and his roommate or girlfriend will freak out and he'll change his mind and complain. Not only that, Ryan's going to be out of town for several weeks coming up VERY soon, how the hell am I supposed to control an aggressive dog determined to protect his home?!?! The only thing I can think to do is to use his spiked collar on him and buy a soft muzzle. I don't want people to think Thor's dangerous, but with the scene that transpired today, his actions say otherwise.

We have the WORST luck with pets dude, the WORST. I'm so done with animals. No more pets for us, I've had my fill.

Sunday, October 11, 2009

Football, Booze and College Students

LSU's game against Florida was last night. Ryan and I walked down to Chimes (nearest bar in walking distance) for dinner, beer and to watch the game. I think the last time I went to a college party was in 2003. I've been to plenty of military parties, but somehow everyone just seemed to keep their cool. Well, of course, you always have that one girl who drinks just a little TOO much, ends up passed out in the bathroom, and the DD and a bouncer have to dress her and carry her out to the car. Cue crickets chirping. AAANYWHOOO...

One of the newest laws that I find quite interesting, in Louisiana, is that you can get a liquor drink to-go and walk around with your vodka collins. Also, there is no law in Louisiana about open containers in moving vehicles. I can drink in the passenger seat while Ryan's driving. As long as the driver is not drinking it's all good. SO, that being said, our entire half of the street was like a small version of a block party. Drunk and stumbling college students EVERYWHERE. We passed the little Mexican place next to Chimes and it was PACKED, lots of whooping and hollaring. Chimes was no better. We could get in the door, that's about it. We couldn't see a bartender or server to even order food. We went to the little burger joint down the street, again more drunk kids, I'm pretty sure I saw a girl passed out on the curb. I don't really remember the college parties I went to way back when, I'm sure we were just as annoying. I really don't remember whooping and hollaring at the military parties. I remember poker, a wrestling match would typically break out, other than that lots of laughing and talking. Ryan and I decided to head to the condo after eating. We saw two girls, one hysterically crying and climbing the stairs, to the condo-plex next door to ours. No clue why she was wailing, maybe LSU was losing by a field goal. I think we heard sirens and saw flashing lights the rest of the night.

THANKFULLY our condo-plex was NOT party central. This must be a sign that I'm getting old. I'm all for having drinks with friends at the hometown bar, and every now and then I might get a wild hair up my butt that makes me want to get down with what little party girl is left in me; but I would rather have a nice dinner with friends than try to watch a game or carry on a conversation at a packed bar with lots and lots of drunk people. Not only that, but I can't handle as much liquor that I used to. What happened to the days when I could down bottles of vodka in an evening and still be coherent and remember everything that happened that night prior, with no hangover? Not anymore dude. Four double vodka cranberries is definitely my limit, after the fifth one, "Bob" ends up having to carry me in the house while his girlfriend holds my hair back for me, while I visit the white ceramic god of flushy flush. No judging, "Bob" and...."Eva" wanted me to leave VA with a bang. Thankfully I didn't pass out until we got in the car and no one saw me naked. Two drunken stories in my life is allowed dammit. AND I will have you know that the next morning I was up and at 'em, laying sod in my backyard. Nothing like a hangover and carrying 30lb. rolls of grass covered in manure. I'm getting off topic here.


Football, booze and college students is quite a rowdy and annoying combination.

Friday, October 9, 2009

Purple and Gold

I have never, in my life, seen so many people wearing purple and gold. I mentioned before that I have never lived in a college town. I've lived in military towns, I've lived in tourist towns, I've lived in industrial towns, never before in a college town. It's really pretty cool the team spirit that's around here, and I think that because this is something I've never witnessed or been a part of, it makes it all the more intrigueing to me. Now obviously, LSU's colors are purple and gold and OBVIOUSLY we have the big Tigers vs. Gators game coming up on Saturday. (I didn't know any of this until Ryan told me last week, *shrug*.) Since we are neighbors to the LSU campus, and our street cuts right through the middle of campus, our entire street is going to be closed down all day Saturday, so unless we can walk to wherever we're want to go, then we stay at home. Ryan tried to get tickets to the game, of course they were sold out. Florida is undefeated and I guess we're big rivals of theirs, again I shrug. All week we've been able to hear the college band practicing and since our condo-plex is full of college students, all you see is purple and gold. We went to Reginelli's for pizza (OMG that place is AMAZING) and it was like a sea of purple and gold. Yesterday, as we were coming back from New Orleans we could see ESPN setting their crap up, it was pretty cool. We planned on going to Chimes (bar down the street) to watch the game for a bit, but I feel fairly certain that if we don't go in purple and gold garb we may receive the staredown. Ryan's condo key is purple and gold, maybe if we hold up the key as we enter and say, "We are friends of the tiger, we come in peace for wings and beer!" they'll know we're one of them. Then again, that entrance will probably NOT work in our favor. We'll hear whispers across the bar, "Who's the creepy old couple that just walked in? Maybe that witch doctor who hides in the French Quarter got em yesterday?"

Thursday, October 8, 2009

New Orleans

Ryan and I went on the hunt for a Navy Federal today, the only ones in Louisiana are down in Belle Chasse, South from New Orleans. The plan was to hit the DMV first thing this morning to swap our licenses over and register my car, find the Navy Fed and look around New Orleans. The good news is, we got our licenses and registered my car, found the Navy Fed, deposited my last check from Diablo Enterprises and New Orleans was pretty cool. The bad news is, for our licenses and my car, it was $300. I guess Louisiana gives you a 3% credit of the 8% tax you pay in VA, but you have to pay the 6% difference. Not super happy about paying dual taxes but whatev. What can you do.

I thought New Orleans looked like every other downtown area until we hit the French Quarter. It looks really historical (Alison's gonna love it), actual voodoo doll stores, and just about every little shop sells beads. It is hot as hell down there too. We had lunch at Mulante's, this well known Cajun place. I had seafood gumbo, never had gumbo before, it was good, SUPER spicy. Gumbo isn't what I thought it would be. I thought it would be thick, creamy and have not only seafood or meat but lots of vegetables-corn, peas, beans, ect. This gumbo was thin like a soup rather than a stew and was packed with seasonings, not much for vegetables. It was really good though, I liked it. Ryan had this sausage sandwhich thing, it was good, I liked my gumbo better. I didn't see anyone playing the banjo on the corner or witch doctors casting spells on people like I had hoped, (yes, I realize I'm completely ridiculous and have my head in the clouds) but there was someone playing the tuba and there were palm readers!

Tuesday, October 6, 2009

Day 4-The Torture of Boredum

Today is officially day four of me now living in Louisiana. The house is pretty much unpacked and set up, Ryan needs to help me move heavy crap, he's in Texas so that will have to wait until he gets back. Thor is driving me insane. I have come to the realization that dogs need yards like Stephanie needs a job. They're just not meant to go without. I'm bored out of my mind, and it hasn't even been a week. Boredum is like slow torture for me. School starts again in a few weeks, but until then I am left roaming the condo and growling back at Thor when he whines to go out and sniff the air.

I have looked everyday since Sunday for a job, Monster, Hot Jobs, local papers, Craig's List, Careerbuilder.com, there is just nothing for accounting. I have applied to all the places that I qualify for and now I wait, hope for the best, check back for more listings each day and hope the temp agencies call. Alison loaded me up with books when I left, I'm half way through those. I've rearranged my kitchen about four times and changed the boxes in the closet about six. I may end up hitting the mall for retail jobs sooner than I thought.

I TRIED watching a soap opera yesterday because I hear that's what housewives do these days and since I'm a housewife at the moment why not get the full housewife experience? Yeah, I thought I was going to hang myself about half way through. Going outside in the pouring down rain with Sniffy McSnifferson seemed enjoyable after THAT experience.

Saturday, October 3, 2009

Louisiana+Chaos=Stephanie's Life

I am officially in Louisiana now. After days of the Navy packing and moving us, me panicking because I'm concerned about the house in VA not renting out right away, dealing with cat issues and other random crisis', I've finally made it down here.

The Navy took two days to pack and load our stuff in the truck. During that, I spent the majority of my time trying to get the house ready to rent. Lawn grooming, house repairs, ect. I seriously have THE best friends in the entire world. They took a Saturday they had off, which they don't have many of by the way, to come over and help me get the house ready to rent. It's a damn good thing too, because I would be very screwed if they didn't come over. My last day in VA I spent cleaning the house and packing the car. I stayed with Alison, where Marina was also staying with her. Alison's house for vagabond women as Marina so lovingly called it.

My dog was with Tiffany, my cats were at the house. In the process of loading my cats into the car, Gizmo decided to go completely calipso on me. The furry bastard absolutely refused to get in the crate, biting and scratching me and my roommate "Bob", in the process. After 45 minutes of fighting with Gizmo, calling Ryan, and bandaging up "Bob" battle wounds, I called Animal Control. A vicious cat just isn't going to work. He'll never make the trip to Louisiana and I can't have him turning on me whenever he doesn't want to do something. I saw it coming, Gizmo has always been mean to everyone but me.

When I got to my parents house in Charleston, Charlie (my other cat) took to Lauren (my baby sister) like she was his long lost best bud. Marina, who rented a car in VA and drove to SC to attempt catching a flight to Spain from the air base there (all the flights in VA and DE were canceled, and at that point Marina had been stranded in the States for a week), texted me around midnight. She had been stranded again. My mom and I went and got her, and brought her back the next morning. Thankfully she was able to grab a flight and is now home in Spain. Apparently it's super easy to get here but a total bitch trying to get out, if you're taking military flights. I left Charlie in Charleston with my family. He will be so much happier there, they don't have a dog (which he's terrified of), they'll swarm him with attention (which he needs), he'll be so much happier in that environment. With tears in my eyes I said goodbye. Yes, I realize I'm completely ridiculous, he's at my parents house, they'll take great care of him and I'll see him when I visit. I'll still miss him, Charlie is the best pet we've had.

Thor and I got in the car Friday morning and started our 11 hour drive to Louisiana. We took state routes through GA, which was nice because it took us through a bunch of towns which gave me things to look at. Not so nice because all the towns were the most ghetto redneck towns I have ever seen...EVER. I think I locked my door about 15 times through one of the towns, it was worse than the north end of North Charleston, and trust me, THAT'S BAD. In AL I almost got into an accident. We were on a state route, speed limit is 65, we were all going about 68-70 miles an hour. There was about 4 car lengths in between me and the SUV in front of me. I looked behind me in the backseat to check on Thor, when I heard tires screeching. I snapped my head around to see the SUV in front of me slamming on his brakes so hard he's leaving black tire marks on the asphalt, the guy in front of him I could see, only because he sweerved into the emergency lane. I slammed on my brakes only to realize that there was no way I would stop in time. Four car lengths doesn't mean squat when you're going from 70 miles an hour to zero in seconds. I looked to my left and saw someone pass me only to slam on their brakes. Left lane was open, I darted into that lane and looked around. No accident, everyone's fine, what the heck caused those cars to slam on their brakes. Then, I see him. Homeslice on a bike with a bike trailer hooked up to it. Not a Harley bike, a bicycle, ya know, the kind you peddle. No joke, dude riding a bicycle in the middle of the state route in AL. I looked in the back seat because Thor was thrown all over the car. He looked back at me, sighed in the most exasperated and aggitated way, did his circle walk in my backseat and laid back down. I told him, "Don't blame me, blame physco bike riding guy." He grunted.

We finally got to Louisiana Friday just as it was starting to get dark. Ryan met us at the gate of our condo plex (there's aparment complex, would a community of condo's be called a condo plex? I have no idea). He took Thor, and asked, "Where's Charlie?" I explained the whole kitty situation to him. A family of six is now down to three. Although I know the individual situations for each pet is better for them in the long run it saddens me.

I love the condo. The condo is great, minus a few repairs that the landlord needs to do, but nothing super extreme. The LSU campus is literally two streets down, and it's a gorgeous campus. We're close to everything we could ever need and New Orleans is just over an hour away. Unpacking is never fun. Disorganization is Stephanie kryptonite. I'm pretty sure I spent at least an hour today walking around aimlessly not sure where to even begin. At one point one of mine and Ryan's conversations today went something like this:
Me: I'd like to get house unpacked and put away this weekend. At least the majority of it.
Ryan: Babe, I don't think we're gonna get it all done this weekend.
Me: Well I'd like to.
Ryan: Let's just start in the kitchen.
Me: I'd like to get the kitchen done today.
Ryan: Where's your keys?
Me: I don't know.
Ryan: Where's your phone?
Me: I don't know.
We proceeded to unpack the kitchen, I then realized that my keys and phone are more than likely in the box/paper mess and could be thrown out. I started to search for them, with no luck.
Me: Ok new goal, find the keys and phone before we do anything else.
Ryan: You realize that your goal went from having the entire house set up to finding your keys and phone.

In between this morning and now I'm fairly certain that I have lost my keys and phone about 17 times. Maybe tomorrow I'll break that record.