I Just Want Sleep!

It appears that we’ve been plagued with early morning faulty electronic activity.  First there was the alarm-event-heard-around-the-world, and then this morning there was the fire-alarm-heard-around-the-house.  The smoke detector (which, when asleep with the bedroom door closed sounds very much like the house alarm) started going off.  Naturally, our dog starts shaking and crawling on top of me to hide, while Angel and I curse the alarm for waking us up and debate who the unlucky one is going to be to get up in the cold and go address the situation.

I lost.

Our smoke detectors are all wired together, so when one starts beeping THEY ALL START BEEPING.  It’s really wonderful in a really annoying way.  I identify the rogue device, remove the battery, put the alarm back on the ceiling, and go back to bed.  30 seconds of silence later, our detector has decide it’s not done talking to us.

Long story short we have COMPLETELY uninstalled and dismantled the smoke detector and it’s STILL GOING OFF.  Why do alarms insist on going off in our house in the middle of the night?  We are very unfriendly folks when woken up

Car-nage

Have you ever had one of those days that the second you leave the house, you become aware that it was probably a bad idea?

This happened to me while merging onto the highway (and checking my blind spot like an appropriately safe driver, may I add):

Damn you, rocks!

By the time I pulled into work, the crack had already grown to an inch in size, and I expect the afternoon sun to take care of the rest.  Right after this happened, I opened my Frappuccino bottle (because I’m getting good about stopping at Starbucks and am instead buying it for cheaper at Costco) while I hit a bump and am now wearing my beloved Frappuccino… but that’s okay because coffee is the new black.  I also have Frappuccino all over my seat, steering wheel, and floor mats.  Bucket seats are exactly that, folks!

Le sigh.

This is why we have high quality front loading washers and a Tide theft problem.  Clearly everyone else spills coffee on themselves on their way to honest paying jobs, because there’s no other logical excuse for stealing Tide.

I really just wish Tide thiefs would come clean.

Diary of 7 Comp Days From Work

Day 1

Sorry I didn’t actually update my blog regarding my time off to do nothing.  I was busy…. doing nothing.  I woke up late, read an entire book between naps, cuddled with Molly, and watched a few movies on HBO.  I accomplished nothing, I did no house work, I didn’t shower or change out of sweat pants, and it was everything I thought it could be.  I tried to make coffee in the morning, but we didn’t have coffee beans and I was too damn lazy to go to the store to get some- so I went back to bed instead.

 

Day 2

The no alarm thing is really easy to get used to.  I woke up at 10 and felt like a teenager sleeping through the day.  I sat out in the sun of the backyard with the dog for 30 minutes, caught up on my trashy TV, finally showered so I could take the dog to the groomer and to the mall to get soap from Bath and Body Works, and then came home to finish doing nothing before Angel and I went to go to our Boot Camp workout class.  And then we ate the fridge out of leftovers because I’m still on this kick of doing nothing (which has no end in sight).

My ass is starting to form in the shape of the couch.  I’m so proud.

Tomorrow Angel’s taking the day off, too.  He’s either jealous of my and Molly’s laziness, or….?  No, he’s jealous.  We were thinking about going skiing, but they haven’t gotten any snow in the last week and we decided that we didn’t want to drive and leave the dog alone since she’s still a little sick.  So instead, we’re now thinking we’ll take the dog for a walk down to the shopping center for lunch.  Assuming, of course, that I wake up before lunch.

This not working thing is way too early to get used to.  I’m worried that I’m not going to want to go back to work on Tuesday- even though it’s just for the day (I have Wednesday off).  Quarter life crisis in full run.

A Lesson In Foreceful Cooperation

Let me start by saying that I have faith in the judicial system.

 

Now that I’ve gotten that out of the way, allow me to take a moment to openly bitch about the way they treat victims.  I got subpoenaed on Saturday to testify against the 2 ass holes who broke into my house.  Court date is in 2 weeks, and it states rather largely and very clearly that a warrant will be issued for my arrest if I don’t show.  Annoying, but free day off of work. I get it.  I’m not going to fight.

 

So I call the attorney this morning to ask what I’m going to have to do when I’m there and voice my concerns over these documented gang members knowing who I am when I testify against them.  You know what I’m told?  I’m told that I don’t have a choice and I do have to show up, or I will be arrested but I’m allowed to “voice my concerns.”  So then I ask, “what does voicing my concerns get me if I clearly don’t have a choice?”  And then I’m given a lecture about cooperating while I slam my head against the wall for 30 minutes.

 

They gave me many options:  I testify and let the documented gang members know who I am and what I look like, or I get arrested for not cooperating.  This is what my tax dollars are buying me.

Obama-rama

Okay, so here’s the breakdown of President Obama’s visit to Intel from a republican perspective.  In short: I may not agree with the guy, but I can certainly respect the job.

 

On Monday morning, I got an email that President Obama was going to be visiting my workplace.  I reread it a few times because I hadn’t yet consumed this morning’s coffee (side note: giving up caffeine is NOT going well- clearly).  There was a raffle for employees to win tickets, but I figured that was going to be a cold shot in hell so I instead signed up to be one of the volunteers that was needed thinking that if I can’t get there I was at least going to get as close as I could.

 

Well, I was right.  And as it turns out, all of the volunteers got tickets to the speech!  All volunteering is done for selfish reasons, they just don’t always pay off as well as this one did.

 

So I show up at 9am in the Intel construction parking lot like I was told.  I’m greeted by the head of the White House Events staff and am briefed on how the event is going to go down.  I’m part of the team managing crowd control at the metal detectors to get into the event.  Sounds cool enough.

 

We get bussed over to the event from the parking lot as soon as the secret service has completed their security sweep of the area.  When I get there, I hop through the metal detectors and take a quick camera shot of the area before the estimated 6,000 people started showing up:

He's here to talk about job creation, thus the construction backdrop

 

And then I volunteer for 5 hours (there is no way to write about this and it not sound boring, so I’m going to spare you the details).

 

On the little down time we have, a few of us shoot the shit with the White House Events guy.  When he comes to let us know that the final bus has brought the last of the guests, we are “dismissed” to go into the event.  We go through security (which seems oddly less violating than airports), and then events guy tells us to follow him.  Not entirely sure what else he has us signed up for, I go.  What the hell, right?  I’m not the BIGGEST supporter of the guy, it’s more of just being there because I could.

 

He wanted us to follow him because he dropped us in the designated fenced off path for the Secret Service.  I can deal with this because 6,000 of my closest friends are currently behind me shoved around like a fat lady in spandex.  Turns out there wasn’t any job, he was just helping us out so we got a better view.

 

So then I meet the CEO as his entourage walks him back and forth between his seat and meeting the president back stage.

 

The event gets under way.  Excuse the quality of the photos, I was standing on a fence and trying not to drop another iPhone into broken oblivion…

Intel's CEO welcoming the crowd. Whatever, we get it, we aren't here to see you.

They just put out the Presidential Seal between speakers

President Obama talking about the heat in Arizona (it's only 70, you baby)

He must have just gotten word via ear piece that my auto registration is expired. Crap.

After standing for 6 hours waiting for this, his talk is only 30 minutes long and is a repeat of his State of the Union speech the night before.  Like I said, not his biggest supporter, but I can respect who he is.

…And then I had to walk a mile back to my car and wait in traffic to get home.  The experience was still totally worth it.

Longest Weekend On Record

Or perhaps the more appropriate title to this post is “Most Expensive Weekend On Record.”

 

No joke.

 

On Friday night my beloved dog, molly (of who I am obsessed with) started throwing up and acting really weird.  Naturally, this always happens right as this night-owl is going to bed at midnight, so… awesome.  She ended up in the animal hospital and the 3am x-ray showed the vet and I that she had a tummy full of rocks.  ROCKS.  Take a minute to think about this: the dog went out the dog door, took a stroll around the yard, and decided that rocks sounded more appetizing than the food inside.  She had to spend the night in the pet hospital, followed by all day Saturday, and then came home Saturday night on puke watch 24/7.  She still has a tummy full of rocks so one puke from her and the only option left is surgery.  Ugh!

Home. Bandaged leg and all

 

Meanwhile, I proved that my iPhone is just no match for a tile floor.  I completely shattered the screen on it when it flew out of my hand as I was trying to hang it up.  So one trip to the Apple store and a new phone later, Angel suggested I get one of these cases for it:

Big and Bulky, and possibly bomb proof

So that’s awesome.

Saturday over.  I assume we’ve crossed the annoying, expensive threshold.  Incorrect assumption.

 

On Sunday morning Angel’s headed to the old house to make a few minor repairs before the renters move in on Thursday and I’m sitting up in the loft scrapbooking (duh) with Molly curled up next to me still on suicide watch….. BAM!  Angel backed into the garage door.  Broken door, broken car, 100% annoying.  So I spent Sunday trying to get garage repair men out to the house to fix our house.

 

Most people enjoy weekends.  I was DYING (thankfully not literally) for this one to end!  The Rivas household should live in a plastic bubble.  That may be safest for everyone.

Holy Scrapbook

I don’t mean to alarm anybody, but the scrapbook apocalypse has arrived and my office is ground zero.

 

I’ve been all about finding creative outlets for myself and since diaper cakes are on a small hiatus until I get past my stabby attitude towards babies, scrap books seemed like the next logical step.  I mean, who really wants a diaper cake full of small, sharp objects and unlocked pill bottles?  Nobody.  But who wants a scrap book of our honeymoon?  Well, Angel will eventually but he’s not allowed near the office so he doesn’t know it yet.

 

I have been hunting Cricut machines like they are elephant tusks for an ivory market, just waiting for one to go on sale because even I have  my limits.  Today I found one for half off and I damn near killed someone trying to get to my computer to order it before they went out of stock.  Do you see what my quest for creativity is doing to me?  It should be here by Tuesday at the latest.  I would love to say that I’ll blog about it immediately, but given my current track record I’m going to call in sick to work so I can spend a full 18 hours using it before I tuck it in bed with me for the night so it may be a few days before you hear about it’s glory.  Besides, this will allow me sufficient time to come up with a proper name.  All amazing gadgets must be named (see: My Kitchen Aid mixer named Hello Kitchy.  Trust me, once you use one of those naming it won’t sound so weird).

 

I’m too excited about my Cricut machine and scrapbook to sleep…. But such is the life of a starving artist (speaking of, I may have been too distracted to stop for dinner…. I can’t remember).

The Snark is Back

It appears that I have jumped the emotional hurdle after choosing to share my miscarriage journey.  Apparently all I needed was to speak up in order to move on.  So by only sitting there and reading, you did this, people!  Pat yourselves on the back.

I proudly exclaimed to Angel that “the snark is back!”  and then spent 20 minutes explaining what that meant.  I love having an English-as-a-second-language husband.

I decided that I’m going to give up caffeine for my health.  So I threw out the morning’s Starbucks (Sidebar, what the heck is going on with them raising their prices?!  I’m happy to part with my beloved Starbucks…. ignore today’s indiscretion), and went downstairs to the cafe to grab a quick lunch bite between meetings.

The elevators are broken, so I’ve been hiking up and down flights of stairs all day like it’s my job because, well, today it is.  So I decided to reward myself with my go-to lunch choice of salad:

Whatever, potatoes are vegetables too.

 

I’ve burned at least 1/1000 of these calories just by walking down to get it.  So there.  I win.

And then because I have a girlish figure to maintain, I threw in one of these for good measure:

"Feel free to continue strutting down the hall like it's your own personal fashion runway" That's what the label says in case you can't read that in the photo

Whatever, I’ll start cutting out caffeine tomorrow.  “A” for effort.

Morning Time Lapse

They say your dog takes on the personality of their owners.

I resent that.

My dog has an attitude, she doesn’t wake up in the mornings, and she has a pretty decent case of separation anxiety.  I believe that I only share….. all of these qualities.

Allow me to demonstrate via iPhone time lapse photos Molly in the morning:

7:45am: Alarm has been going off for 20 minutes. 1 person out of bed. Molly: "Don't bother me"

8:05am: Out of shower. Dog still shows no sign of movement. Molly: "Don't bother me"

8:36am: I need to leave for work. It's time for the dog to get up so I can let her out. She's not interested. Molly: "I'll pee in your closet later."

8:42am: After an hour of no movement, I force the dog to get out of bed. Molly: "You promised me cookies, bitch"

8:43am: Molly: "Get the camera out of my face until I can comb down this bed head"

Wanted: 1 Housewife/Domestic Goddess. Inquire Within

I need a housewife.

I said this to my husband and he responded with “So do I!” as I attempted to find my socks this morning in 4 different piles of laundry on the floor.  As it turns out, more space in the new house just means more space to expand upon my bad habits.

“Maybe it would be easier to find something in the closet if you didn’t have so many Coach purses that you don’t even use”

Gasp “I do too use them” He didn’t mean that, girls as I admire my wall of purse beauty.

“When’s the last time that you used this yellow one?”

Wait, when is the last time that I used that one? “I use it, and you know, this isn’t helping me find my socks.”

Then I decided to go sock commando before he could inquire over more purse usage.

I went downstairs to grab a bottle of orange juice on my way out the door and couldn’t find one because my fridge is full of Thanksgiving left overs.  I’m so not kidding there.  That’s about the time I realized that my house still has Christmas decorations up that would rival a housewife on Black Friday, my pantry is empty, and my trash is overflowing on top of the dirty dishes that don’t fit in the sink. Who’s house is this?

Thus, I leave work in 2 hours for the rest of the day.  I plan on taking down Christmas, cleaning out my fridge, doing laundry and dishes, maybe clean a bathroom or two (or three), and pack my suitcase for my trip to Colorado tomorrow.

All of which would be easier to do if I had the help of a housewife.