tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-71563484732807180802024-03-12T22:11:09.605-07:00So . . . yeahChelsiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06083913996726148391noreply@blogger.comBlogger89125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7156348473280718080.post-58066301848242118962012-07-18T21:38:00.001-07:002012-07-18T21:38:39.070-07:00So I'm feeling all warm and fuzzySo you know how I don't do things the normal way? (I think this has been established). Well, when I moved in I didn't have curtain rods but I always put black out curtains up. So in my bedroom I literally nailed the curtains to the wall on both windows. I would always joke that at least no one will be able to get in. Well . . . . . <br />
Tonight I come home to cop cars parked outside my apartment. A couple months ago a woman was stabbed to death in our complex, so I was thinking great, somebody else died. I feel safe. Instead I walk up and there were 2 cops walking away from my apartment. They asked me if I lived there and I said yes. They then said that my neighbor's apartment got burglarized and their place was trashed. They said that there were pry marks and signs that the intruder attempted to get into my bedroom windows. They asked if they could come in and check out my place. I was freaked out mainly because now that I work from home, all my work equipment cannot be stolen. It would be a nightmare. We walk in and nothing was taken. So the officers asked if they could look at the windows. That's when I remembered that the curtains are nailed to the wall. When I looked closer I could see the curtain had been pushed open in one small section and 2 of the nails were on the ground. The officers looked at it and said it was such a smart security decision to nail the curtains to the wall, because if you slow them down enough, they move on. They said that must have been what happened - that the burglars had too hard a time with my place because of my 'great idea', so they moved on to my neighbors. <br />
This made me grateful that 1) Obviously, all my stuff wasn't stolen, 2) My place was pretty presentable, and there were no unmentionables on my bedroom floor 3) I actually did my hair and makeup today and didn't look too horrible in front of the hot cops.<br />
Lesson Learned: Continue to do things the wrong way. Sometimes it makes you look like a genius in front of good looking cops.Chelsiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06083913996726148391noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7156348473280718080.post-60722194970174620892012-06-27T21:57:00.000-07:002012-06-27T21:57:18.152-07:00So once again I broke something. And then I made it worse.So I was doing laundry last night at midnight (like every other normal person) and decided that I was tired and didn't want to do several loads so I decided to wash ALL my clothes at one time. I spent several minutes stuffing every article of wearable clothes into the washing machine - just like my mom always warned me was going to break the machine. Even as I was doing it, I was thinking this was not going to end well. And here's the difference between me and normal people: I did it anyway. So it only took about 10 minutes before the washer started making loud thunking noises and then clicking sounds, followed by silence. Nothing. It wouldn't do anything - wash, rinse, permanent press, NADA. The washer was filled with water and my clothes were tangled up and not moving. The problem was I had lunch with former colleagues today and didn't think they'd understand why I showed up in my pajamas. So I knew I couldn't wait for the maintenance guy to come. So I spent the next 3 hours pulling out my clothes once by one and wringing them out the best I could and finding somewhere to hang them. Now this is what doesn't make sense to me - I don't know if it was the late hour or what, but I apparently forgot that my DRYER was still in working order. I spent a ridiculous amount of time wacking my clothes against funiture (because that's how they dried clothes in the olden days, I assume), rolling them up in towels and sitting on them, and ineffectively blowing them dry with my blow dryer. Finally, I remembered the dryer still worked, and I tried that route. But the clothes were so wet still that it took 6 cycles in the dryer to finally dry. <br />
Then today, after all that, I thought for kicks and giggles I'd see what would happen if I unplugged the washer and plugged it in again. Because that how you fix computers, right? And it started right up. Of course.Chelsiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06083913996726148391noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7156348473280718080.post-23789564274401902382012-06-06T14:59:00.000-07:002012-06-06T14:59:56.788-07:00So I'm no detective, but I'm pretty sure anyone would consider this a justifiable reason for manslaughter<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Ok, so I don't know if you've seen the 'Clean and Clear' commercial but every time I see it I sit and wonder for <span style="color: red;"><del>hours</del></span> an undetermined amount of time what marketing genius came up with the idea. If you haven't seen it, here's the basic premise:<br />
It's early morning, apparently, and this girl's roommate thinks that it is a grand idea to start playing music. The girl comes in the kitchen and says to quiet down, and the roommate decides that instead of turning down the music, she should insult her instead. She says, "I know what YOU need!" (This is of course a suggestion that her T-Zone is a little shiny) and they then have a face washing party. It all ends with them singing and dancing together in the kitchen. <br />
So . . . in what world is this realistic? First of all, if my roommate suggested to me in the early morning that the reason I'm not in a good mood is because my face isn't clean, we would have a problem. If they then wanted to wash their face <em>with me</em>, I would start looking for a nice way to suggest they move out and find another roommate to be creepy to. If they then decided we should start dancing and singing in the kitchen in the early morning, well, let's just say that would be the beginning of a CSI episode.Chelsiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06083913996726148391noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7156348473280718080.post-90668247516478082352012-06-02T16:00:00.000-07:002012-06-02T16:00:17.287-07:00So I started a fire<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Working at home is great. But it is really boring. And I think I have undiagnosed ADD. Which has caused some problems. One 'problem' is that I don't stop cleaning. And because I don't do anything normal, I was cleaning my ceilings with bleach using a Swiffer. (Don't ask). The problem with cleaning your ceilings is that it drips, and I didn't think about this while I looked up and literally got a drop of bleach water in my eye. Who needs vision anyway, eh?<br />
But really I get in the most trouble at my desk. I have this candle burning at all times because one of my neighbors apparently really likes pot. And I'm not a fan of the smell. So I have this candle going and I get really fascinated with it sometimes. I get annoyed that the wax on the side wasn't melting and it seems like such a waste. So I decided to take a giant paper clip (of course I have one) and scrape the wax on the side into the melted wax in the middle. Not only did I burn my hand several times (because the candle was still burning) but my hand slipped why scraping and it splashed all the hot wax all over my face and shirt. It was like a spontaneous wax facial. That was fun. <br />
Then, for the finale, I started a fire. It started because I have a small obsession with burning paper and blowing it out. I think this is a sign of mental illness, but fire is pretty. So that means it's ok. Right? . . . So I started burning a piece of paper - except I couldn't blow it out in time and I panicked and dropped it in the garbage next to my desk. The garbage that was full of paper. The garbage can lit up like it was full of gasoline. My first reaction was annoyance at how quickly it burst into flames because whenever I'm camping, I can NEVER get the campfire to start. But of course now, when I don't want to start a fire, I have super fire starting abilities. Apparently. <br />
Anyway, so I have a rather large fire going in my trash can and I was kinda freaking out. So I go to the sink and try to fit my trash can under the faucet but my trash can was too big and I didn't have enough room. So I dumped all the burning trash into the sink thinking this was a genius move. And then I watched as the small stream of water from the faucet didn't even touch 90% of the burning mess. So I started cupping my hands and filling it with water and splashing the fire. And yes, I effectively splashed the fire to death. I think I should really look into fire fighting. I apparently have some great skills. I'm sure the local fire fighters would be really impressed. Either that, or really concerned about my ability to start fires. Maybe I should just keep this story to myself.Chelsiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06083913996726148391noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7156348473280718080.post-49771057665980720512012-05-22T20:16:00.000-07:002012-05-22T20:16:06.874-07:00So I got a new jobI know this comes as a shock after reading the post title, but I got a new job. I'm still working within American Express but now I'm in Global Business Travel. It's a promotion, and the coolest part is that I now work from home. It's incredibly surreal. I've been in the new job for about a month now and I still feel like my old boss will call me any day and ask me where I've been. It's very odd. For about the first week and a half on the new job I didn't have anything to do because I was waiting for all of my equipment so that I could work from home. I was at home, bored, and full of anticipation for the new position. So what did I do? Crafts, of course. I wanted decorations for my new home office walls, so I made the incredibly stupid idea to make them. I made this decoration out of toilet paper rolls. It's something that I saw on pinterest and I actually really like how it turned out:<br />
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Then I made this sign with a quote that I really love:<br />
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I decide how hard a craft is by how much crying is involved. So the first craft was easy. The sign, however was a little difficult. Not at first though. At first I was thrilled on how simple it was. But it didn't look right. I couldn't figure out what was wrong. This is what it looked like at first:<br />
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Notice anything off? Yeah. That kinda ruined my day. I literally had to slowly peel off the paint and reposition the letters. That was fun. <br />
This is what my office area looks like with everything finally put together: (the thing on the right is a white board. I have an intense obsession with making lists.)<br />
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It's been an interesting couple of weeks. I've been trying to adjust to working from home which seems like a simple concept, but it's more difficult than I first thought. Here's what I've learned so far:<br />
<ul>
<li>I can save a lot of gas working from home</li>
<li>I also save the 2.6 seconds I normally would spend picking out a work outfit. Now my work outfit is whatever I happen to wake up in, which is awkward when I'm 'working' at my 'office' and the apartment maintenance guy literally comes walking in. Unannounced. True story. </li>
<li>Being at home all day long really makes you notice how much you need to clean your apartment. The daylight really makes the dust stand out. And when you're faced with an impossible project, cleaning a toilet doesn't seem so hard. In fact, it seems like a delightful diversion. </li>
<li>It's fun being able to decide when I take breaks. But I've learned that I cannot turn on the tv during my breaks. Because I intend to take a 10 minute breather, and then suddenly I'm finishing a 10 hour Real Housewives marathon. It's a problem. </li>
<li>Now that I get to decide when I work, I decided to work until the work is done. The problem with that is: I work until the work is done. I'm a little bit of a perfectionist when it comes to work, so I will obsess over a project until I've done every possible thing to improve it. So this has not helped my sleep situation. </li>
</ul>
All in all, I really like my new job. I like the change, the challenge, and I actually do like working from home. <br />
<br />
That's the end of my story. <br />
<ul>
</ul>
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<br />Chelsiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06083913996726148391noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7156348473280718080.post-70422817108419534962012-04-11T08:45:00.004-07:002012-04-11T09:24:19.776-07:00So I interrupt our regular programming for a very serious question<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgG3x5HvPc4XGGUKfsbnk1I6b1_zMIJv6apFOhUiEEvs3lsbkcdWN036nmxHwj17dZU9cPWhrWZelVM3pQKCsopH2sRjazu9K3aUxf-H_V7VmLtb-JrRNdhNJYIo8gxy347t3C-04wlSSJ8/s1600/FBI-Seal-Plaque_20M%25255B1%25255D.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5730175618026564546" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 325px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 340px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgG3x5HvPc4XGGUKfsbnk1I6b1_zMIJv6apFOhUiEEvs3lsbkcdWN036nmxHwj17dZU9cPWhrWZelVM3pQKCsopH2sRjazu9K3aUxf-H_V7VmLtb-JrRNdhNJYIo8gxy347t3C-04wlSSJ8/s400/FBI-Seal-Plaque_20M%25255B1%25255D.jpg" border="0" /></a> So . . . you know FBI has a 'Most Wanted' list? Well I was thinking this morning - and wouldn't that mean they have other lists? Like, in order to have a <em>most</em> wanted, you'd also have a <em>least</em> wanted. And that just opens up all kinds of list possibilities. Like, I bet they have a 'Mildly Annoying' list, and a 'If we were to accidentally kill you we wouldn't cry at your funeral' list, etc. And I really really want to be on the 'Mildly Annoying' list. And if I wanted to shoot for the stars and really go for my dreams then honestly I can see myself being completely fulfilled in life if I got to be the one making the lists. The possibilities! And of course, I'd have to have fun with it. I mean, don't you think the FBI folks could use a chuckle or two? I'm sure they would find it amusing if I swapped out one of the Most Wanted guys for my high school <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">Spanish</span> teacher. For just like a week or two. So much wasted potential. And revenge opportunities.<br /><br /><br /><div></div>Chelsiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06083913996726148391noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7156348473280718080.post-22979244307825487692011-11-01T06:07:00.000-07:002011-11-01T06:26:34.876-07:00So I'm still alive.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiDx4bt4oYTab2CYLcKC3xgm4oqaj6uTpV3OzF0nKyBMgcpWcHv7syXBH_U4fp6D7wednUfiWhDeSqj35tiliJwmQJmXIY-43lfbu34SiVmEm4Wq_Ngtoo9VmkUiyBua8zkdha5evj3UdS/s1600/Yogurt-can-help-weight-loss.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5670017972384892466" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 267px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiDx4bt4oYTab2CYLcKC3xgm4oqaj6uTpV3OzF0nKyBMgcpWcHv7syXBH_U4fp6D7wednUfiWhDeSqj35tiliJwmQJmXIY-43lfbu34SiVmEm4Wq_Ngtoo9VmkUiyBua8zkdha5evj3UdS/s400/Yogurt-can-help-weight-loss.jpg" border="0" /></a> Hello there. Nice to see you. So I kinda forgot about this whole blog thing. It's funny how that happens. And to be honest, I don't really have anything really inspiring or earth shattering to share, but just thought I'd drop in.<br /><br /><br /><div>Nothing's really changed. I'm still getting into weird situations, not sleeping, and having random health issues. Lately I've been changing what I eat, just to keep it interesting. Last week I decided to try all different brands of yogurt because I'm trying to find the best one. So every morning for breakfast I had a different kind. I was worried though that by the end of the week I would forget which brand I liked or didn't like. So I started writing my 'review' for the yogurt down on whatever was closest. So on random pieces of paper at work I have things written down like: 'Cascade Fresh: sour and lumpy', 'Stonyfield: liquidy and chunky', 'Chobani: possibly grabbed sour cream on accident?', 'Athenos: expired? or just really funky?'. And because I'm apparently really not organized, I wrote each one on something completely different. One was on a meeting agenda, one was a on a presentation, one on my calendar, etc. It makes for some fun reading and explanation for my co-workers that are wondering who I'm calling liquidy and chunky. Doesn't that description just make you hungry? Yum. </div>Chelsiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06083913996726148391noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7156348473280718080.post-36168972888334459512011-07-22T16:54:00.000-07:002011-07-22T17:42:16.407-07:00So it's been awhileI have been busy and have kinda stayed away from the whole blogging idea for the last couple weeks. I've been trying to think of anything noteworthy to update with and this is all I've got:<br /><br />- Remember how I got a flat tire while my nephew was in the car? Well he has yet to quit reminding me that my car is <em>busted </em>and that "Chelsie, you really shouldn't busted your car." Well, then a couple of weeks ago he was over at my apartment when my sister and I were bringing in groceries. My sister accidentally dropped a thing of sodas on the ground where 2 promptly self destructed. I brought the rest into the apartment and set it on the counter. As soon as I did, several cans dropped to the kitchen floor and burst open. The soda sprayed EVERYWHERE . . . the walls, the microwave, the ceiling, etc. I was kinda staring in disbelief when Ridge, who was watching from a couple feet away looked amazed. He then said, "What happened Chelsie? Your house 'splode (explode)?" So now he tells me that my car is busted and my house 'splode. Just Grand.<br />- I saw a trainer/fitness chick/hater-of-all-that-is-pain-free a couple of days ago. She apparently though I was in training to become a line backer, because she had me doing up-downs and all kinds of crazy exercises. By the end of it I couldn't feel my legs, and now I <strong>wish</strong> I couldn't feel my legs. It hurts so bad that I can barely get out of a chair, let alone walk. I've procrastinated anything that requires movement including going to the bathroom and sneezing. I'm now walking so funny that I've contemplated finding a wheel chair for the next couple or months, or whenever my muscles recover - whichever comes first. Which is ironic because I'm supposed to be working out so I could walk <em>more</em>, not less. I've learned my lesson: Exercise is bad for my health.<br /><br />Yeah, that's pretty much it. Pretty boring.Chelsiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06083913996726148391noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7156348473280718080.post-89461857100721505672011-06-07T17:54:00.000-07:002011-06-07T19:07:12.416-07:00So I cannot say goodbye<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizCn9bLAe23wNid4LwL9UN-P3CfgAk3nIp7wUtUn4w3SMzYQLr_AdnhUROx9Djyc6YY6oaob2NAdOBb3CzFvytZvyMUBYyDKk9Y4LF-uIJbWdGDXvp_EyBUsBRmnCiEEbSyRSeqCx4dm7d/s1600/scrunchies-263909.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 210px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 210px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5615662838309238130" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizCn9bLAe23wNid4LwL9UN-P3CfgAk3nIp7wUtUn4w3SMzYQLr_AdnhUROx9Djyc6YY6oaob2NAdOBb3CzFvytZvyMUBYyDKk9Y4LF-uIJbWdGDXvp_EyBUsBRmnCiEEbSyRSeqCx4dm7d/s400/scrunchies-263909.jpg" /></a>I'm in a predicament. So, to try and explain you have to understand that I am about the opposite of a hoarder with most things. I do not like holding on to a bunch of stuff, and have, on several occasions, thrown perfectly good items away. I'm talking clothes, movies, <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-error">cds</span>, childhood items, etc. I know it can be seen as wasteful - but I just hate having so much CLUTTER everywhere. If I don't use it - it's gone. <br /><div>With that said, I randomly get extremely attached to certain things. I'm sure you're thinking that this is totally normal. However, let me demonstrate how I'm once again NOT normal. </div><br /><div>The year is 1995 and I am in fifth grade. The world became fascinated with the <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" class="blsp-spelling-error">scrunchie</span>. All the girls in my grade literally couldn't go a day without accessorizing with a <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_2" class="blsp-spelling-error">scrunchie</span> on the wrist. And it was never just one <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_3" class="blsp-spelling-error">scrunchie</span> . . . it was always several (apparently in case some fatal accident <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_4" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">occurs</span> that requires the assistance of multiple scrunchies to . . . hold <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_5" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">someones</span> hair back.) So being the cool, classy chick that I am (don't all laugh at once) I followed suit and wore more <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_6" class="blsp-spelling-error">scrunichies</span> on my arm than <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_7" class="blsp-spelling-error">anyones</span> hair called for.I came in from recess one day and realized that in the process of walking around the fields (because playing on the swings was SO beneath me) I had lost a <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_8" class="blsp-spelling-error">scrunchie</span>. I <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_9" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">immediately</span> became so <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_10" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">devastated</span> that I rushed to my teacher and tearfully explained that I lost my <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_11" class="blsp-spelling-error">scrunchie</span> at lunch and absolutely HAD to go outside to find it. She pointedly looked at the remaining perfectly good scrunchies wrapped around my wrist and told me that I couldn't, but that she was sure it would show up in Lost and Found the next day. It didn't. I was so traumatized over this, that YES, I obviously still remember it. Being that attached to a hair <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_12" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">accessory</span> isn't healthy. </div><br /><div>Well, it's happening again. You might remember that my computer is dying. It's been dying for awhile now and I'm having a hard time accepting it. And there's no doubt that it's over for this computer. It's literally being held together with masking tape in some places (aren't you surprised that I didn't use hot glue?) (not that I didn't think about it. But the masking tape was closer. I think that's how all life decisions should be made . . . which way is <em>faster</em>?). This computer has played it's last song, it has surfed it's last web, it has . . . well, you get the idea. And I was recently able to buy a new computer. The new computer is amazing - it has everything that the old computer doesn't have (um, it's functioning) and more. And yet I do not want to get rid of the old computer. Certain siblings have even offered to take it off my hands to squeeze the last bit of power out of it. It's probably selfish of me, but I can't let it go. I have had this computer for 4 years and I've used it pretty much every single day. I'm pretty sure this computer is going to be sitting on my desk until I'm 72. Like I said, I'm in a predicament.</div>Chelsiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06083913996726148391noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7156348473280718080.post-47296545004648783992011-05-14T16:50:00.000-07:002011-05-14T20:01:35.300-07:00So have you ever gone into a room and forgot what you needed? Yeah, I did that. But instead of a room, I went to WalMart.This last week I was supposed to have 4 days off of work. Instead, I decided to do overtime. Not because I missed the wonderful world of work, but because everything I own apparently had a secret pact to all break at the same time. My TV died (we've been over that), my computer is on it's last leg, my cell phone is randomly freezing and turning itself off, and my dresser literally rocks back and forth when touched. It's gotten so bad that I've decided that any clothes in the dresser are off limits - it's not worth risking it's collapse. So I worked 11 hours on Thursday and was exhausted when I got home. However, I had to rearrange my bedroom because my parents were getting me a new Queen sized bed on Saturday. Currently I have a twin sized bed (I KNOW!!) so, I have to move furniture around to make it all fit. And I decided to completely organize EVERYTHING in my room in the process. Because I apparently thought that I needed to reach new levels of exhaustion. After I completely finished I was getting ready for bed because I had to be at work the next day at 5 am. I was so ready for bed and then I realized that in the process of moving and organizing, I had completely lost my alarm clock. And the only back up alarm I have is my phone. You know, the phone that randomly freezes and dies. Super reliable. So I decided to tear everything apart looking for for the clock. Hours later, I gave up the search because it was close to 2am, and I had to be up at 4:30. But I still couldn't sleep because I was so sure I wouldn't be able to wake up. Even when I did kind of drift off, I would wake up in a panic, sure that I overslept. So Friday I was kind of in a fog of exhaustion. It wasn't pretty. But I was determined to get everything done. I finished work and remembered that the day before I had made a long list of things I needed at <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">WalMart</span>. I remembered that there were several things that I really needed for the weekend. So I got to <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">WalMart</span>, and had gotten into the store before I realized I couldn't remember even one thing I actually needed. I was walking around thinking that blankly staring down every aisle would help me remember something, anything. No luck. And in my sleep deprived state I was really upset thinking that I would leave empty handed. So I decided to grab the closest item and buy that so my trip wouldn't be in vain. <div><br /></div><div>Which is why I left <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">WalMart</span> with a peach candle.</div>Chelsiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06083913996726148391noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7156348473280718080.post-48288518446599952012011-05-03T20:04:00.000-07:002011-05-04T16:30:51.686-07:00So this post is kinda a bummer . . . .I haven't written in awhile because all I have to say are complaints and angry sarcastic rants. Nothing big has gone wrong, but lots of little super annoying things keep happening. Any one of them I could handle and laugh at. And some days I do just that - but then something else happens and I want to break something. <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">Ok</span>, so I'll try to put this in chronological order:<br /><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="WHITE-SPACE: pre"></span>1. This is long - you may want to skip. . . . I decided to remake my <a href="http://number2freak.blogspot.com/2010/10/so-whoever-created-styrofoam-needs-to.html">wall thingy</a> because I kinda hated it. It was super ugly and annoying. So, I thought I'd learned from the past and would use wood this time and it would be super easy. Yeah, right. I got the wood and paper for the project and would use <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">mod</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">podge</span> to seal it together. So the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">mod</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">podge</span> thing wasn't getting the paper to stick to the wood, so naturally I decided to mix glue with the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">mod</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6">podge</span>. Because my improvisations with crafts make me a <i>winner</i>. Nope, that just made the paper all lumpy and gross. My sister took the job over and showed me how to correctly <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7">mod</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8">podge</span>, and when we needed something flat to smooth the paper out over the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9">mod</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10">podge</span>, I grabbed my driver's license. Naturally. So my driver's license is <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11">mod</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_12">podged</span>. Because I screwed up so many of the boards, we had to go and buy more scrapbook paper and redo them. Then they had to lay out in my tiny apartment on the couch, table, and basically every surface. The next day I realized that although I had bought wall hanging kits, I had only bought 6, because apparently I suck at math and didn't count the 9 boards that I actually had. I thought it was safe to stack the boards because they were spread out everywhere until I could get more hanging kits. That melded the boards together and ruined 2 of them. That I had to redo. Again. It eventually turned out <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_13">ok</span> - but I am so bitter over the effort it took. <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_14">Grrr</span>.<br /><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="WHITE-SPACE: pre"></span>2. My TV broke right after I got <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_15">DVR</span>. I was able to get a smaller, but still functioning <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_16">tv</span> from my sister though, so I figured it'll work until I save to buy a new one.<br /><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="WHITE-SPACE: pre"></span>3. My DVD player stopped working. We were able to figure out (after awhile) that it was just a bad cord. That could be replaced - so it wasn't a total loss.<br /><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="WHITE-SPACE: pre"></span>4. I filled a prescription and then lost it within 24 hours. The entire thing. I tore apart my apartment and car looking for it to no avail. I then had to fight with the pharmacy to get it refilled. At the same time I got an ear infection and had the fun experience of dealing with the nurses at work that could not be more condescending and rude. They finally gave me prescriptions for my ear and the prescription costs ended up costing more money then I had a available, because my insurance is ridiculously horrible.<br /><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="WHITE-SPACE: pre"></span>5. My <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_17">DVR</span> broke. The geniuses at Cox couldn't figure out what the problem was and sent a guy out to replace it. I told them I don't get off work until 5, so they would have to come after that. They said that was no problem and I promptly got a call at 4:15 from the Cox guy that he was outside my apartment. When I finally got there (after 5), he was not happy. He replaced the box, saying that would fix it. I lost all my saved shows, and had to reprogram all my recordings. Which is kinda time consuming, and annoying.<br /><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="WHITE-SPACE: pre"></span>6. Not even 5 days after getting a new box, my <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_18">DVR</span> broke again. With the same problem. That happened last Saturday. This was also the day that my towel rack decided to fall off the wall and my refrigerator door handle broke off. Then, I also got infested with bugs. They're these little flying things that I found out (after much trial and error) can be killed with <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_19">windex</span>. So my entire place (including my face) ended up coated in <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_20">windex</span> while I tried to kill these suckers. There were a ton - I counted over 50 that I killed alone. I found that they were coming out of the drains, so I plugged all the drains which meant I couldn't wash dishes and freaked anytime I had to take a shower. I went to <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_21">WalMart</span> hoping to find something that kills unidentified bugs and all I could find were these fly papers. When I got home and took it out of the box it looked like a roll of film. I pulled on the ribbon attached to this roll of film and out came a 3 ft long roll of the most disgusting sticky stuff ever. That I got stuck to my face. Don't ask me how. The guy came out Monday to replace the cable box AGAIN. And he was completely rude. He just walked back into room and back to my closet. Without asking. And I really didn't think cable guys NEEDED to go into my bedroom (they never had before) so it was messy. So embarrassing. And what he needed wasn't even in the closet, and I could have told him that, but he didn't ask. So I lost all my shows again, and had to setup all my recordings, AGAIN.<br /><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="WHITE-SPACE: pre"></span>7. Then, yesterday after work I tried to see if the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_22">tv</span> was working. And it wasn't. It was freezing every couple minutes so that you can only catch pieces of conversations. I called Cox, spending close to an hour on the phone, and the guy said he needed to reset my box. I asked if this would erase all my shows and make me re-setup all my recordings. He assured me that it wouldn't, and then got off the phone. When my box restarted, it not only erased everything again, but it didn't fix the problem, so I had to call back AGAIN. And they have no solution except replacing it. Again. It's like a really bad version of <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_23">Groundhog's</span> Day with this stinking company.<br />8. Work. I've been careful not to discuss work online because it's dangerous, but I will just say that holy cow, it is adding to the list. In a big way.<br /><br />This isn't even everything, but it's all happened in the last 3<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_24">ish</span> weeks. And I'm ready for things to be boring. Honestly.<br /><br /><div align="center"></div><br /><div align="center">*END OF ANGRY BITTER RANT*</div>Chelsiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06083913996726148391noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7156348473280718080.post-86303615305090750602011-04-13T13:39:00.001-07:002011-04-13T14:29:26.756-07:00So I had a dream . . . . and my subconscious is weird.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqlgvpue77uwbRuoBIkfcnI-EBLVovZT4QGx20nPPKwDJoDKCW3vXUILZb7YCn04-JaXoR24JY4Ms0PjIN7YKTxKoz6xeg4gLnRVgeP7fXIZo0x833NEc9TQWqwfc7QlZzsV0pkiei4GVP/s1600/man_of_la_mancha.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5595170764323576178" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 292px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqlgvpue77uwbRuoBIkfcnI-EBLVovZT4QGx20nPPKwDJoDKCW3vXUILZb7YCn04-JaXoR24JY4Ms0PjIN7YKTxKoz6xeg4gLnRVgeP7fXIZo0x833NEc9TQWqwfc7QlZzsV0pkiei4GVP/s400/man_of_la_mancha.jpg" border="0" /></a> My dreams are not normal. This shouldn't be surprising, really. They have plot lines, music, a motif, etc. They tend to be incredibly amusing. Last night I had a dream that I was auditioning for the play 'Man of La Mancha'. I'm a horrible actress - this is something my high school Theatre teacher will passionately agree with me on, so I'm a little confused as to why I would be trying out. Anyway, before try outs started, the Playwrite was making 'improvements' to the play. He wanted it to be different. So he added a character to the play. The character was a hamster that would roll on (not in) a ball throughout the scenes. But the Playwrite was having trouble coming up with the perfect name for the character. In desperation, he turned to all of the waiting auditionees to help. He said that whoever came up with the best idea for the character will get to play the character. This was, of course, the only possible way I would get cast. Everyone yelled out ideas, "Fluffy!" "Speedy!" "Fred!". And then it became my turn. And my idea, was . . . "Sir Mix-a-lot!" <em>Naturally</em>. So, I got the part. Because that was obviously the best name. I was the hamster that ran on a ball during the play while 'Baby Got Back' played in the background. <em>SCORE!</em>Chelsiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06083913996726148391noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7156348473280718080.post-4986303173460976172011-03-22T20:26:00.000-07:002011-03-22T22:28:16.446-07:00So if I wear something cute it means I'm risking losing my job. Lesson learned.<div style="text-align: left;">This morning I woke up later than usual and threw on one of the few tops I have that I actually like. I tend to have tops of the circus tent variety, but this one is actually almost cute. I rushed out of my apartment having exactly 2 minutes to get to work before I'm considered late. And I hate being late so I'm hustling to my car. As I'm power walking (because running would just cause an injury - let's be honest) I noticed a woman in the parking lot. She was in her pajamas, staggering a <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">litte</span>, and could barely hold on to the cigarette she held in her hand. She was coming right at me, with purpose. So I did the only sensible thing - I decided that she was coming to attack me and that this parking lot would be the place where I would take my last breath. <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">Ok</span>, so I may have overreacted. She abruptly came to a stop a couple feet in front of me, tilted her head, squinted, and then said,</div><div><div>"Oh. You're not who I thought you were."</div><div>I breathed a sigh of relief, smiled, and continued my race to the car when she stopped me with,</div><div>"I really like your top. Where did you get it?"</div><div>Trying to end the conversation as fast as possible I said,</div><div>"Hey, thanks. Yeah, I don't remember where I got it-"</div><div>and then she interrupted,</div><div>" Well was it <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">Kohls</span>? Old Navy? <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">Dilliards</span>? How about Sears? I get my coats there . . . was it Sears? How about Target? Burlington? . . . "</div><div>I kept trying to explain that I didn't remember and casually bolt to the car but she just wouldn't let it go. </div><div>" . . . Savers? Garage Sale? Hey, why do you park over here? Don't you live way in the corner? Right? Don't you? You can have my spot . . . I lost my car to my stupid ex-boyfriend so I'm not using it. You wanna use it? . . . ."</div><div>This went on and on and all I could concentrate on was counting just how many minutes I was going to be late to work. I finally got to work . . . . 7 minutes late. All because of a cute top.</div><div>I got back <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">tonite</span> after having dinner with a friend and was pretty excited to utilize my new <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">DVR</span> to watch all my recorded shows. I had a pretty horrendous day at work and this would help me end the day on a positive note. I settled into the couch and attempted to turn the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6">tv</span> on. It responded with a clicking noise - but it wouldn't turn on. There is nothing like a broken <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7">tv</span> that will make you re-examine your purpose in life. I said a final farewell to my <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8">tv</span> and started looking <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9">thru</span> Craig's list looking for a cheap replacement. Because life is not complete without mind sucking <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10">tv</span> episodes. Well, I didn't really have much luck. I don't know if it's me, but the goods on <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11">craig's</span> list have gone considerably downhill. For example, I came across this gem: </div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3186JBf1njqA1k5MHZc2UbCs-KsnPYk7_8g0dL1LYMWcOutK-GRG2zIdFEzXUs9A7cGmXVemhWuW8bpfhYGhN2oJ34A_eS2teqje1yOlWEFFdwY9O1iUXqiXgQlo7Fvyzc5Bv3PY-vZp7/s400/Picture+2.png" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5587139733752997842" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 74px; " /></span></div></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#0000EE;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0); ">For those that don't have the ability to zoom in, the post is from someone trying to sell a <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_12">tv</span> - their description says: (my favorite parts in bold)</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#0000EE;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0); "><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#0000EE;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0); ">" This led flat screen television is a <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_13">magnavox</span> but <b>does not work</b>.<b> It turns on but nothing comes out on the screen</b>. Everything looks great on the outside - - the screen is not broken, no scratches, and it includes remotes but one remote isn't in great shape. I<b> don't know what's wrong with the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_14">tv</span> since I just purchase another <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_15">tv</span> instead of trying to fix this one</b> . . . "</span></span></div><div><br /></div><div>And they're only asking $75 for a broken <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_16">tv</span>. Sounds like a STEAL. Sign me up for that.</div>Chelsiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06083913996726148391noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7156348473280718080.post-27096633719902010362011-03-15T10:21:00.000-07:002011-03-15T14:03:32.552-07:00So my body and I are in a fight. And I'm losing. Again.Remember the whole sleeping thing? Yeah. That was actually going ok. And then my work schedule changed and my body revolted. I had finally trained my body on when to go to sleep and when to wake up - I had an early schedule at work meaning I had to wake up at 6 am for 2 months, which is basically the entire time I've been off sleeping pills. Then my schedule changed so that I didn't have to wake up until 8:30 am. I was super excited about all the sleep I would get. If only I knew.<br />The first morning of the new schedule, I woke up panicked at 6 am. My body was shouting, "It's time to wake up!!"Once I saw the clock, I had to kindly tell myself to go back to bed. Then my body would freak right out and wake up 15 minutes later screaming, "WAKEUPWAKEUPWAKEUP!", just like a three year old would - you know, turn on the lights, jump on the bed, and start screaming in your face. The only appropriate response is a stern lecture and a warning, so I did just that and my body reluctantly settled down. Only to repeat that pattern every 15 minutes until 8:30. I'd trained myself into this Pavlovian response that my body was not appreciating being broken of. It started getting a little better after a week and then . . . of course, my schedule changed again. The first day of the change was yesterday, and I had the HARDEST time trying to get any coorperation. And I'm pretty sure I ticked my body off (I know it's weird that I talk about it like we are 2 different people, but that's how it feels sometimes. And now I'm pretty sure everyone is diagnosing me with multiple personalities. Terrific.) and so last night it refused to go to sleep. You know, in protest. I pretended not to notice, so that I didn't feed into it. Just like you would if a two year old was throwing a temper tantrum. That did nothing. But thankfully I got DVR over the weekend (which I am IN LOVE WITH) so I was able to distract myself from the fact that it was 4:30 in the morning and my body was sulking in the corner refusing to sleep just to prove a point. So I got 2 hours of sleep last night. Fun stuff. But the DVR . . . I don't know how I lived without it. It's like Christmas every time I turn on my tv and there's new shows to watch. And shows that I <em>like. </em>I can't tell you how many times I've watched the same infomercial in the middle of the night because I couldn't sleep and nothing else was on. Which can be expensive, because HOLY COW they are inventing some cool stuff lately. Like this glue that can hold <em>anything</em> including a hammock holding two small children (which shouldn't be tried at home) at only $18.99 plus shipping. What they don't tell you is the shipping costs more than the product. Yeah, it's defintely cheaper to have a DVR.Chelsiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06083913996726148391noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7156348473280718080.post-32964975614368271602011-03-07T15:02:00.000-08:002011-03-07T21:50:34.748-08:00So my car hates me and your future babies will look like a fascist dictator. True Story.<div>Oh my goodness. Nothing is ever boring with me it seems. So my sister Jarica and I went to Thatcher to go see my sister Chantel's new house. Knowing that my car thinks it's super fun to break down at the most inopportune times, I thought I'd be super prepared and get my car checked before the trip. So the day before we left I took my car in to get the oil changed and have them look at all the fluids and stuff. And apparently everything was great. So the trip up was fine except I always get a little bitter towards my car on road trips because my car is a PT CRUISER without CRUISE control. Talk about false advertising. </div><div>We got there with no problems and then I decided to leave to pick up pizza for dinner with my little nephew, Ridge. We weren't even a mile away from the house when I blew a tire. This is, by the way, the 4th tire I've had to replace in 6 months. There was a super loud noise and the car started thumping down the road. I was able to pull over and I was actually really calm about the whole thing. I was always kind of expecting it anyways. So Ridge of course had to see what was wrong, so he came out and inspected the car, then looked really serious and said, "Your car is BUSTED." Then he waited a couple moments and then stated, "You just have to get a new car." Shrugging his shoulders as if he felt really bad he had to break the news to me. As I was inspecting the tire, Ridge suddenly got really concerned about the pizza that we were failing to pickup. He decided we should just leave the car and walk to get the pizza. I mean, someone has to have priorities so I'm glad he was around to remind me that even though we were stranded with an overpriced hunk of junk, the important thing is that we left the pizza all alone. And its feelings might be hurt. So I called Chani to pick us up and we got the pizza before anything catastrophic happened. My brother in law Curtis later put the donut on and the next morning Jarica and I ventured to Walmart to empty my bank account. I went to the mechanic area and the mechanics all saw me and literally refused to help. Wouldn't even direct me to where I needed to go. For literally over 20 minutes they went about their work, refusing to help. It was so incredibly obnoxious. When I FINALLY got someone to help, they said they have the tire, it would be $70, and I would need to wait an hour. After waiting almost the entire hour they called me up and said, just kidding. They didn't actually have the $70 tire. They only had the $110 one. And they didn't figure that out until just then. So I left. I was so sick of the incompetence I wanted to scream. So instead I went to Big O. They helped right away, and even though the tire cost more, I was ok with it because they weren't so rude. </div><div>Anyway, on to good news. I found the Redbox movie yesterday. (I know you were all dying to know.) It was in my craft box. Naturally. </div><div>And my laptop seems to be getting better. The double clicking thing has actually stopped. It's like it's slowly healing itself. At this rate, it will be back to normal in about 2 years, 9 months. </div><div>Lastly, I found this ad while I was on some random site. And it just cracks me up. I know there was a way to mesh you and another person's face together to see what kind of kid you'd have, but all examples I've seen are like incredibly unattractive morphed versions of yourself. So I love that this company used this example as some kind of marketing campaign. It seems to be trying to scare people into not have children, because MAN, that baby looks like a baby Hitler with a uni brow. And the "Go Ahead. Make a Baby!" seems like a dare. It's kind of awesome. And a little scary.</div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnCSbC8-vW8DLIdJH4O6LCnwEFfHMFfBWhETFY7gkmRQp8559ZjgpVmpkII3SCGmcc0h6f95quVZvcIOpu37dWkVB2p0yOM7iZGjS89vPjTZ8tcoLg4N2p0iGOKjjD8LAbRYr63_aXPK66/s1600/baby+face.png"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5581491490187762290" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 314px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 259px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnCSbC8-vW8DLIdJH4O6LCnwEFfHMFfBWhETFY7gkmRQp8559ZjgpVmpkII3SCGmcc0h6f95quVZvcIOpu37dWkVB2p0yOM7iZGjS89vPjTZ8tcoLg4N2p0iGOKjjD8LAbRYr63_aXPK66/s400/baby+face.png" border="0" /></a><div></div></div>Chelsiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06083913996726148391noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7156348473280718080.post-45687966691473117892011-02-26T15:26:00.000-08:002011-02-26T16:12:10.339-08:00So Redbox and I broke up.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheWeY9RBvQ1VU_aqYGnaRLp4RkicIvKk2yp5rAZbKkKSakjpAtljI8K9IvW_aq89vvTrBGPn7ChoqwbA2PjcBqySIOYxmLHsxjVvhFMeyf10KCg5EVGOoE0AKsHEItVdOnmWhxxrQgwNXh/s1600/redbox.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 264px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheWeY9RBvQ1VU_aqYGnaRLp4RkicIvKk2yp5rAZbKkKSakjpAtljI8K9IvW_aq89vvTrBGPn7ChoqwbA2PjcBqySIOYxmLHsxjVvhFMeyf10KCg5EVGOoE0AKsHEItVdOnmWhxxrQgwNXh/s400/redbox.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5578154611843742834" /></a><div style="text-align: left;">Awhile back, I rented the Social Network from <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">Redbox</span>. And then I promptly lost it. I didn't even have it in my possession long enough to watch it. Every single day I would randomly search for it - in the most random of places because that's where all my lost items tend to be found. After searching under the sink, in the dryer, and on the porch, I kind of gave up. I figured <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">Redbox</span> would just figure it out and charge me for the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">dvd</span> and we would resume our normal renting and watching movies pattern. Which they did - they charged me $25. Then <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">Redbox</span> decided they don't want to be friends anymore. Even though our friendship is based on me giving a ridiculous amount of money for a nonexistent <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">dvd</span>. They won't let me rent from them now. It's all very tragic.</div><div>Speaking of terrible news, my laptop is dying a slow torturous death. I started to see the signs a couple of weeks ago. I guess I should have known it was coming - I've had this laptop for 4 years now. Which in technology age it's like Joan Rivers. It has started randomly restarting, suddenly exiting windows, running frustratingly slow. So I started looking at new laptops and saving a little. Then I got sick and . . . . well - this is kinda of gross, so I'll give you fair warning. So, I accidentally threw up on my laptop. I really wish that was a punchline, but no - I <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">legitimately</span> threw up on my laptop. So whatever wasn't broken before, definitely is now. So it has developed even more interesting quirks. The cursor thing double clicks on stuff without being touched - which means all the annoying ads get clicked on and when I try to close them, I end up double clicking on it which opens more windows. Random keys stopped working and others you have to push for awhile to get it to register. So every time I have to get online it's like a freaking adventure. I never know what's going to happen next. </div>Chelsiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06083913996726148391noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7156348473280718080.post-89893031717341655002011-02-11T08:22:00.000-08:002011-02-11T08:59:13.701-08:00So I think I've figured this whole sleep thing out. And by 'figured out' I mean 'accepted the fact that I am not normal'.So remember how I don't sleep? And how I've quit taking ridiculous amounts of sleeping aids because I didn't want to force my liver into early retirement? So it hasn't been easy but I think I've figured out of formula of what I have to do in order to sleep at night. If I skip one step, I get little to no sleep. I figured maybe some of these techniques will help others that can't sleep, so here it goes:<br /><br />- Wake up ridiculously early. Like 6am early.<br />- Work for 11 hours. Race around the building all day long getting to meetings and listening to callers yell at you.<br />- Don't drink any kind of soda after 2 pm. Even if it doesn't have caffeine. In fact, just don't drink anything after 2pm.<br />- Get home and tackle some kind of project. Clean the entire house, re-organize your closet, alphabetize all your dvds, etc.<br />- Write a To-Do List for the next day so you can stop stressing about forgetting something.<br />- Around 8pm start a 'bedtime routine'. This is very similar to what you would do with a toddler to get them in the routine. Take a shower at the same time every night, brush your teeth, and if you really feel like reminiscing, put on some baby lotion.<br />- Turn off all lights, and force yourself to lay in bed (no books! no movies!).<br />- Don't let yourself out of the bed no matter how much you may cry. You'll just get distracted and end up watching an entire season of Lost.<br />- Remind yourself to not freak out that it is 2 am and you still haven't slept - this just getting your brain freaked out which is not conducive to sleep.<br /><br />If these are all not followed, I get very little sleep. But, hey! I get some sleep and that's what counts. I think.Chelsiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06083913996726148391noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7156348473280718080.post-33374708869517632972011-01-21T12:53:00.000-08:002011-01-31T19:27:39.769-08:00So, etc.<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigrxqw8oOfoxGxURccbmDuxs9zrfmepyPBDVyqC4Aai-Bhm5wwxlnDxlx0_7SgBlG-zhTe9xUDAMgI_XtKeT1vXEh1uhD5mb0RKOXkp-pumCgLRJr_SVjK0tT9Q5X9b98o3UG4-pj_-za5/s1600/sick.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 317px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigrxqw8oOfoxGxURccbmDuxs9zrfmepyPBDVyqC4Aai-Bhm5wwxlnDxlx0_7SgBlG-zhTe9xUDAMgI_XtKeT1vXEh1uhD5mb0RKOXkp-pumCgLRJr_SVjK0tT9Q5X9b98o3UG4-pj_-za5/s400/sick.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5568557493894757234" /></a><br />It all started about 2 weeks ago. I decided to use my heater for the first time ever. As soon as I turned it on, there was a horrible smell and the smoke alarm went off. And even though I turned off the heater right away, the smoke alarm kept going for a couple minutes. I ended up trying to get warm using my blow dryer, just like our ancestors did.<div>Then on Monday night the 17th(?) I got sick. REALLY sick. It hit hard. And this stunk because it was also the night before I had to house sit for my parents. House sitting isn't a big deal - except that I was planning on getting my heater fixed while I was gone. Which meant I had to remove all valuables from the apartment. This sounds like an over reaction - but let me explain. So, the maintenance guy at my apartment is a little . .. .special. I'm really not sure how he got his job. When I first moved in there was a huge hole in my shower and no faucet. I asked them to fix it and the maintenance guy came over - empty handed. He actually asked me for a dime so he could screw in the faucet and then tried to leave the hole - even after I explained how having a hole can become a problem when I'm taking a shower. So - he's not the lightest bulb. So, I've thinking if he tries to fix my heater, my apartment is totally gonna catch on fire. And if that happens, I don't want all my important things to be destroyed. So I had to pack my most important things, and find a place for all the things that wouldn't fit. So . .. it was a long night. I ended up going to my parents house at 2:30 AM for a breathing treatment because I couldn't breathe. Fun stuff. Then I went to work without sleeping and then went to see the nurse. She said I have bronchitis and my oxygen count was really low because I've always had a lower lung capacity than most. So I had to go get drugs (YAY for drugs) and go home. Within 4 hours I felt worse. Much worse. So I ended up waiting 5 hours to get into Urgent Care. Who said I have the flu also. I was running fevers constantly and started suffering the fun effects of the stomach flu. It was horrible. I kept having asthma attacks and then started panicking because I couldn't breathe which made it worse. I was out of work the whole week. When I went back on Monday I was thinking I might be getting better and went to the nurse to get refills on my prescriptions. When I went there they said they were alarmed that I was getting worse, and that I had developed double ear infections. So I had to leave and get more prescriptions. The next day I felt like I really needed to try and make it through a day at work. So I went in feeling ok. Within 2 hours I suddenly had a huge asthma attack and coughing up blood (YUMMY!). I ran out to a rarely used hallway because I didn't want to make a scene. I couldn't catch my breath and was sure I was going to pass out in this hallway and die. Because I'm a little dramatic but also because I really couldn't breathe. I made it to the nurse ad when they saw that I was coughing up blood they weren't too excited. Apparently that isn't good. So they sent me home again. I then had to stay home the next day as well. When all was said and done, I spent close to $400 on doctor's visits, prescriptions, and over the counter medicines. Frankly, I'm surprised I'm still employed. So this is the VERY long excuse for why I haven't blogged in awhile. The End.</div>Chelsiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06083913996726148391noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7156348473280718080.post-54533354104690098002011-01-11T20:27:00.000-08:002011-01-11T20:55:28.626-08:00So I'll probably forget this by tomorrow . . .<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieYN4KmSuyb1FjL1KSpfOb9URVNENm3MC5hqRtf1rB2eInQrvJ7y1OibE5Ke1pBYzzDp4UDiTuxvJWnRCUEervWq3CK0BKij4W9-uAiNMB1sv_mnRfj4duqyyuRHI0zHIfrACgC35duD5q/s1600/Fishing_Dog_.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieYN4KmSuyb1FjL1KSpfOb9URVNENm3MC5hqRtf1rB2eInQrvJ7y1OibE5Ke1pBYzzDp4UDiTuxvJWnRCUEervWq3CK0BKij4W9-uAiNMB1sv_mnRfj4duqyyuRHI0zHIfrACgC35duD5q/s400/Fishing_Dog_.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5561156991894354290" /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: none; "><br /></span></a><div><div style="text-align: left;">So work has been interesting lately. (If you ever miss a post, odds are it's about work, my sleep, or near death experiences. Sometimes all in the same post. Like magic!)</div><div style="text-align: left;">Anyway, so I'm helping train our new hires at work for the next 9 weeks. The manager had a long meeting with me today about expectations of their coaches (which is pretty much old news to me because I've been coaching for the past 2 years). So, we're going through different coaching techniques and several times he asked for an example of a certain situation (ex: "When have you had to deliver a difficult message to a co-worker?). Well, as luck would have it, I pretty much have experienced the very worst possible scenarios in my time working. Things that literally had him writing things down to remember because they were so bad. Because of this, we moved along pretty quickly because he could see I'm pretty seasoned. So we kept breezing through the material and he would start a topic and I would make a comment to show that I understand so we could move past it. I should mention that I'm still not taking any more sleep aids. Which also means I'm not sleeping. I've seriously had less than 4 hours of sleep in the past 2 days. Which tends to not end well. So I felt like the meeting was going pretty well -considering - until . . .</div><div>So the manager started going over how it's important to not just give someone the answer but to help them find the answer. To respond explaining that I understood I <b>meant</b> to use the old cliche "If you teach a man to fish, etc" but what ACTUALLY came out was: "Yeah, I had to teach a dog to fish."</div><div>There was a moment where I didn't even hear what I had actually said - and then I saw his eyes widen and he said, "Wow. You really <b>have</b> had some extreme experiences."</div><div>Maybe drug free is NOT the way to be. </div></div>Chelsiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06083913996726148391noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7156348473280718080.post-30696596132856859842011-01-08T20:55:00.000-08:002011-01-08T21:43:20.959-08:00So, Another Sleep Misadventure<div style="text-align: left;">So last Saturday (the 1st) I decided to stop taking <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">Benedryl</span> and Tylenol PM every night. Health professionals everywhere just breathed a sigh of relief. This has nothing to do with a New Year's resolution, I just got tired of all super fun side effects taking massive amounts of drugs to get myself to sleep has caused me in the last 4+ years. You know, the foggy daze I was in, slurred speech, the Costco size <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">Benedryl</span> bottle that has been my constant sidekick, and the hate mail I receive daily from my liver. So on Saturday night I was awake until 5 am. That's when my resolve started to shake and I decided to look up symptoms of <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">Benedryl</span> overdose. Just to freak myself out so I don't decide to crack under the insomnia-induced pressure. And you wouldn't even believe what an overdose with <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">Benedryl</span> causes . . . .insomnia. (I KNOW!) It also causes a lot of other fun things I've experienced like headaches, blurred vision, fevers, etc.</div><div>So I made it through and didn't take anything. And I still haven't. (<i>Applause). </i>It has been really interesting as I notice changes . . . . for example, over the past several years I've gotten used to this constant mental fuzziness and it's been slowly going away. It's quite unsettling actually. It's almost like sitting in a room with a TV set to static. After a few seconds of listening to that loud buzzing you're like, 'Wow, that's super annoying and quite distracting.' But you get used to it. You learn to work around it and after awhile it becomes a new normal. It's been your background noise for so long that it's almost comforting. And then someone turns off the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">tv</span> and it feels eerily quiet. So that's been me the last few days - walking around asking who turned off the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">tv</span>. I'm sleeping about every other night which is pretty good considering. So, yeah.</div><div>Oh! And I almost forgot. I made something. It's a jewelry holder. I've been wanting one for awhile because my jewelry ends up in a tangled mess. But the ones I want are like $50 + shipping. So I decided to make my own. I saw an example online and it took a frame, attached some hooks, and then put some plastic mesh stuff in the middle so you can attach your earrings. I wasn't a huge fan of the plastic mesh anyway, but I couldn't find them anywhere. So I tried to think of something that would work. Then I saw cheese cloth, and it looks like something earrings would snag to. And, good news, cheese cloth can be used for other purposes than just keeping cheese modest. So I got a frame and painted it, screwed some hooks into it, and attached some cheese cloth with my trusty companion, hot glue. Then I attached some fabric behind the cheese cloth. I then made some flowers for the corner. It actually turned out really well - it kind of threw me off actually. I keep expecting it to self-destruct or something. But so far it's doing just fine, functioning and everything. Who <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6">woulda</span> thunk?</div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRVn6MmQWbLJ4tRR11G6J-CxlD1Ddtbe7giuAM0lqRAN7dXIRkRPGcV0HXrx2qAQDNu9sfeRuYDdks48_9a_ypHcGjaFnNUfcAcxZ7af0Js4LGZLY6Vks6T9LyuPMxUk3TAnvkCqFNbY73/s400/Jewelry.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5560056704792404786" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 400px; " /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><br /></span></div>Chelsiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06083913996726148391noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7156348473280718080.post-60115573247411223722010-12-27T16:10:00.001-08:002010-12-27T16:43:05.656-08:00So I'm a rebel. Just not in Arizona.I was reading an article that has 'bizarre' state laws. They picked the craziest one for each state. For example, in California it is illegal to eat an orange in a bathtub. As I was reading them, I was thinking how fun it would be to make a life goal to break every single one of them. Because really, even if I <em><strong>did</strong></em> get in trouble for it, how funny would it be to go to jail for eating an orange in your tub? Pretty dang. Other laws might be a little difficult to break though. For example, in Pennsylvania it is illegal to sleep on top of a refrigerator outdoors. I'd not only have to go to Pennsylvania, but find a refrigerator, transport it outside, find a way to get on top of it, and then go to sleep. That's a little too much effort for a laugh. Some states have laws that are practically asking the rest of the country to make fun of them. For example, in Kentucky every citizen is required to take a shower once a year. So I was thinking I can just go break the crazy Arizona law just for kicks . . . . until I read it. The 'bizarre' law they picked for Arizona is that no one can chop down a cactus. Well, we all know that. And we know there is like intense penalties for it, so it's not so bizarre. Which makes me think that maybe in other states, their 'bizarre' are also well known and totally normal to them. Like, if I was to go to North Carolina and ask about their crazy law, they'd be all, "Well, of course it's against the law to sing off-key. Everyone knows that." I also love them because I like to imagine what must have happened in order for it to become a law. Like the law in Rhode Island that says it is illegal to bite off someone's leg. How many times did that have to happen before the people to be like, hmm, maybe we should make a law against that?<br />Enjoy:<br /><br />Alabama: It’s illegal to wear <a href="http://www.divinecaroline.com/22260/88850-flair-facial-hair-celeb-mustaches" target="_blank">a fake mustache</a> that causes laughter in church.<br />Alaska: Whispering in someone’s ear while he’s moose hunting is prohibited.<br />Arizona: Cutting down a cactus may earn you a twenty-five-year prison term.<br />Arkansas: It’s illegal to <a href="http://www.divinecaroline.com/22312/92588-hooked-phonics--fifteen-mangled-misused" target="_blank">mispronounce the name</a> of the state of Arkansas.<br />California: You may not eat an orange in your bathtub.<br />Colorado: It’s unlawful to lend your vacuum cleaner to your next-door neighbor (Denver).<br />Connecticut: A pickle cannot actually be a pickle unless it bounces.<br />Delaware: It’s illegal to get married on a dare.<br />Washington, D.C.: It’s against the law to post a public notice calling someone a coward for refusing to accept a challenge to duel.<br />Florida: If you tie an elephant to a parking meter, you must pay the same parking fee as you would for a vehicle.<br />Georgia: It’s illegal to change the clothes on a storefront mannequin unless you draw the shades first.<br />Hawaii: All residents may be fined for not owning a boat.<br />Idaho: A man must not give his sweetheart a box of candy weighing fewer than fifty pounds.<br />Illinois: It’s illegal to take a French poodle to the opera (Chicago).<br />Indiana: The value of pi is 4, and not 3.1415.<br />Iowa: One-armed piano players must perform for free.<br />Kansas: It’s illegal to throw knives at men wearing striped suits (Natoma).<br />Kentucky: Every citizen is required to take a shower once a year.<br />Louisiana: Biting someone with your natural teeth constitutes simple assault, but biting someone with your false teeth classifies as aggravated assault.<br />Maine: If you keep your Christmas decorations on display after January 14, you’ll be fined.<br />Maryland: It’s against the law to wash or scrub a sink, no matter how dirty it is (Baltimore).<br />Massachusetts: No gorilla is allowed in the backseat of any car.<br />Michigan: A woman may not cut her own hair without her husband’s permission.<br />Minnesota: It’s illegal to paint a sparrow with the intent of selling it as a parakeet (Harper Woods).<br />Mississippi: Walking a dog without dressing it in diapers is forbidden (Temperance).<br />Missouri: Children may buy shotguns in Kansas City, but not toy cap guns.<br />Montana: It’s a felony for a wife to open her husband’s mail.<br />Nebraska: Bar owners may not sell beer unless they brew a kettle of soup simultaneously.<br />Nevada: It’s illegal for men with mustaches to kiss women.<br />New Hampshire: It’s forbidden to sell the clothes you’re wearing to pay off a gambling debt.<br />New Jersey:It’s against the law for a man to knit during the fishing season.<br />New Mexico:Females may not appear unshaven in public.<br />New York: While riding in an elevator, you must talk to no one, fold your hands, and look toward the door.<br />North Carolina: It’s against the law to sing off-key.<br />North Dakota: It’s illegal to lie down and fall asleep with your shoes on.<br />Ohio: You must honk the horn whenever you pass another car, according to the state’s driver’s education manual.<br />Oklahoma: It’s forbidden to take a bite out of another person’s hamburger.<br />Oregon: State law requires dishes to be drip-dried.<br />Pennsylvania: It’s illegal to sleep on top of a refrigerator outdoors.<br />Rhode Island: You may not bite off another person’s leg.<br />South Carolina: If a man promises to marry an unmarried woman, he is required by law to keep his promise.<br />South Dakota: It is illegal to lie down and fall asleep in a cheese factory.<br />Tennessee: Selling hollow logs is strictly forbidden.<br />Texas: You may not shoot a buffalo from the second story of a hotel.<br />Utah: It is illegal not to drink milk.<br />Vermont: Women must obtain written permission from their husbands to wear false teeth.<br />Virginia: Tickling a woman is unlawful.<br />Washington: It’s illegal to pretend that one’s parents are wealthy.<br />West Virginia: If you make fun of someone who does not accept a challenge, you risk a six-month prison sentence.<br />Wisconsin: Unless a customer specifically requests it, margarine may not be substituted for butter in a restaurant.<br />Wyoming: Unless you have an official permit, you may not take a picture of a rabbit from January to April.Chelsiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06083913996726148391noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7156348473280718080.post-4847856430929663532010-12-24T22:27:00.000-08:002010-12-24T23:14:35.004-08:00So everyone can take pleasure in my pain.<div style="text-align: center;">Everyone knows I'm not the greatest cook. If I follow directions EXACTLY things tend to be ok. It's when I get creative that things go terribly wrong. Like tonight.</div><div>Yes, it is Christmas Eve - at 11:30 pm actually when I'm writing this. I offered to make a breakfast casserole for the family for Christmas morning. But I wanted to make it the night before because I'm definitely not a morning person. The casserole I decided to make has a ton of ingredients including bacon. I hate cooking bacon, so I decided to throw it in the oven on an aluminum pan to cook instead. While it was in there I was busy grating the cheese, chopping the onions, etc. I was very careful to diligently check on the bacon so it wouldn't burn but it didn't seem to be cooking. So I turned up the cooking temp to somewhere over 400 degrees. I then kept assembling the rest of it and remember thinking how well it was going, and how I might actually have an uneventful cooking experience. And that was the moment the fire alarm went off.</div><div>I kind of panicked when it happened because the alarm was SO loud, and it was 10:30 at night. I didn't want to wake my neighbors and cause a bigger scene. So I started running to my patio door and then stopped when I saw how much smoke was coming out of the oven so I ran back to the oven to grab the bacon. That's when I remembered that I only have one hot pad and all my towels were in the wash. I took the one hot pad and attempted to take the pan out of the oven. Because the pan was just aluminum foil, it kind of crumpled around my hand, spilling bacon grease all over the oven, all over the floor, and covering my thumb in the bubbling mess. I ran with the collapsing pan to the patio door where I remembered that the patio door isn't only locked, but it's blocked by a security device thing because I'm paranoid at night. I had to free the security bar while my thumb became one with the boiling grease that kept threatening to redecorate my living room floor. Miraculously I got the pan out on the patio before the pan could completely collapse. </div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiry29IEZ1RD30NURE9JlN9V03WtViqsKR5VeuICHHRTAQSloe3UDqem3SA5aLMnmAANHfz_V-VgSRkSc_NmjDgUooTVaB62TtI9E49hXv9wSy1oA0-mozNEEcJ0prcIx2Bm-HpD4IAhjru/s400/bacon.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5554511503796056562" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 334px; " /></span></div><div>I then ran and got a shirt and furiously tried to wave the smoke out the door to stop the alarm. After a couple minutes the alarm finally quieted and I realized how stinking bad my thumb hurt. I actually had bought a first aid kit over a year ago that I had never used. I brought it out and tried to find some kind of burn cream. I had to through every item in the kit including an emergency blanket, a glow stick, and anti-diarrheal pills before I FINALLY found some burn cream. By the way, have you ever noticed that it takes two working thumbs to open a bandaid? </div><div>So tonight I learned not to cook bacon in the oven, that people that make first aid kits apparently people think most customers are diarrhea-ridden, cold, and in the dark, and that I really need two hot pads. </div><div style="text-align: center;">Merry Christmas. </div>Chelsiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06083913996726148391noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7156348473280718080.post-44872840643432885442010-12-21T14:03:00.000-08:002010-12-21T14:40:49.795-08:00So I hate Walmart.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwGJJtbKfqFs8v7WcaGYYIbbL73JEPu9YbN06racyLNvNqKmzihLSlp0XVY2OS1wDJUjtb_ylh1dJk9BGA5x5rvdGvu8Vb_NC06dfb9Vw7RZnbfjcIlFKe8WPRSgOJdwiZTbU9fRf8QvZ5/s1600/walmart.png"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5553260900233698818" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 234px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwGJJtbKfqFs8v7WcaGYYIbbL73JEPu9YbN06racyLNvNqKmzihLSlp0XVY2OS1wDJUjtb_ylh1dJk9BGA5x5rvdGvu8Vb_NC06dfb9Vw7RZnbfjcIlFKe8WPRSgOJdwiZTbU9fRf8QvZ5/s400/walmart.png" border="0" /></a><br /><div>I've never been too thrilled with the service at Walmart. In fact, I can't think of anyone that has had good service at Walmart. But it seems to have gotten worse lately. Before I'd become immune to the rude comments and slow service, but now it's almost like they're all having a contest to see who can alienate the most customers the fastest. <strong><em>And they are all winning</em></strong>. The other day I was there with my brother and sister and they were wanting a Calendar. Just a basic calendar. But we couldn't find them anywhere . . . . so I actually attempted to ask someone. The first person suggested somewhere we had already looked and then gave up, the second person pretended not to hear me, and then I came upon the third employee. This employee actually suggested an area and offered to show me where she thought they were. I actually got a little excited because they never actually go with you, even if it is only 25 feet away. They normally just point and mumble. Well, when we got there and she saw that there wasn't actually any calendars, she just shrugged and stared at me. As if I'm supposed to thank her for walking me to a dead end. So I asked if she knew of another department that would have them, and she just started staring vacantly and then slowly inching to the end of the aisle so she could leave. I really couldn't believe it - I wasn't being rude, but she just wouldn't help. Nearby customers saw this whole scene and actually started suggesting where they think they've seen some calendars. It's pretty pathetic when a company as big as Walmart has to rely on the customers to help each other. </div><div>The other night I was there around 1 am, which is no fun to begin with because that is when all the weird people come out to shop. But it also means that all the employees are restocking the shelves. Which is understandable except for the fact that they like to pretend customers aren't there. When I try to get past them, they ignore me as if I'll just go away if they pretend I'm not there. And when I was in an aisle that night they actually placed a ton of crates of merchandise on either end of the aisle without me realizing it. It completely blocked me in. When someone finally came to move it out of the way, they not only didn't apologize, they looked at me like I should be apologizing to them for making them move the crates. </div><div>I've decided the customer service training for Walmart must consist of: </div><div>"Try not to make death threats to the customers. Unless they ask you questions. Then it's totally understable. The End."</div><div> </div>Chelsiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06083913996726148391noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7156348473280718080.post-30466770711387235612010-12-05T12:28:00.000-08:002010-12-07T16:14:45.188-08:00So it's been busySo a couple days ago my little sister Jarica called me and told me her gerbil, that she'd had for 5 years was dying. I went over to stay with her as moral support - because having your first pet die is tough. It was a very long un-fun process. I've decided we need to be able to have inexpensive ways of putting gerbils to sleep. I kept googling for a way to do that - but apparently I'm the first to think of it because everyone else was more interested in how to keep their gerbil <em>alive</em>. Go figure.<br /><div>When the gerbil did pass we had a heck of a time trying to find the right size box for him (or her? . . . ). Every box we found was pretty big enough for the gerbil and 300 of his friends. We finally found a little box that was supposed to be for golf balls. It was just the right size. Then I tried explaining to Jarica that we can't really bury him - because when I did that for all my 26 hamsters they ended up being Hors d'œuvres for the coyotes. So I took on the duty of carrying out the burial via the trash can. Except that after enduring the many exhausting hours before, I was kinda in a hurry to get home and the recycle bin was the closest to my car. So the recycle bin ended up being the gerbil's final resting place. The next morning one of my friends from work came over and said she saw this sign on a recycle truck:<br /></div><p><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhON0tecOWDpxPQfj-13KxXAjstL1Y0pzbye7TxQyrO9MWEoFubBZbf58v9WZqaO9bf8V0vfgwBkC6g-GzZY697I7SIF7ipWW_7Btrf3Q8mgFKII7mw-RuivY6yjM59Qf0kdhagBZaAfGli/s1600/gerbil.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5547300341747066674" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhON0tecOWDpxPQfj-13KxXAjstL1Y0pzbye7TxQyrO9MWEoFubBZbf58v9WZqaO9bf8V0vfgwBkC6g-GzZY697I7SIF7ipWW_7Btrf3Q8mgFKII7mw-RuivY6yjM59Qf0kdhagBZaAfGli/s400/gerbil.jpg" border="0" /></a> And she asked, "Who would EVER throw a gerbil in the recycle bin?!?!"<br /></p><p>Um . . . that would be me.<br /></p><p>On an entirely different note, I've been working A LOT lately and on Saturday morning I was walking into work when I saw this:<br /></p><p><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5548095959766789266" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcGrVl0YpAMx8jrl4DZtalyo7wB0ZUNieJ2KMqXmqF5AASOfshmQuUZ-Dj1XIWWM6oopUljKRMU7nnO4b9xxAoBnoa9aX5m7G-hxfA_812PRb1QMhdb6fatyx2SnxXWTlQYJgbElUbhLYO/s400/palm.jpg" border="0" /><br />And then I wondered why the sunset was on the wrong side. It took me awhile to remember that sun<strong>rises </strong>are on the east side. It's been awhile since I've witnessed one. Well, willingly at least. Which is why I don't believe I should be awake before 8am - I'm just too stupid to handle sunrise logic.</p>Chelsiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06083913996726148391noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7156348473280718080.post-8996063084508932092010-11-23T19:17:00.000-08:002010-11-23T22:26:25.385-08:00So if you can comprehend this post it means you can also follow my daily train of thought. If you can, I'm sorry. And I think we should be friends.<div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">A friend recommended these drink mix in things - apparently they have vitamins and taste good or something. And Costco sells them so I figured it would be a good deal. I didn't even realize until I got home that I spent $20 something dollars for 30 packets of mix in powder stuff. And one packet is supposed to be mixed into one water bottle - so it's kind of a rip off.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">So I had a lot of expectation for these little packets and brought them to work. This is all in an attempt to not drink soda and I was kinda excited when I broke out the packet at work. And then I put it in the water bottle and the water started bubbling, and FOAMING, and then like exploded all over my desk. And when it started bubbling over I tried to sip a little to stop it which is basically the worst decision I've ever made. I just got a mouthful of foaming, fizzing powder that even a Fear Factor contestant would pass on. I've decided that when I have kids I'm gonna use this stuff in lieu of tobasco sauce or soap if my kid starts saying bad words. I think it'll be effective. And possibly become something they'll look forward to if my cooking skills don't improve. </span></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEMjEHyjwFix7wdCIiY6Jrh5hB19ypiSM-Q_H4xGChH0lKVjIrdP9HZB1Bp911wm2pCSVXvvicPGMDTZ5G-i4QBeTcPtuXCB2KRby3EIYDrRsceMfLfGRVCz1cpQaPp-GSaliG_RcGNOi7/s400/purple.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5542971990480970658" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 188px; height: 400px; " /></span><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">And then when I looked back at the purple bubbling foam I was suddenly reminded of the Power Rangers movie. The villain in it is Ivan Ooze and in the movie there is the purple goo that grows larger and larger and then forms Ivan Ooze. Which looks like a dignified grandpa that took a bath in some grape kool-aid.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2M6U-sLORZQ9mv81NcCzXDD8AF8Az_oQdNWYf3BQvHe0d5d8l2I9W1ojIIfOn0uzSRiBRdWs-hHGoN7DPkLpt8mUGwHHfmGxN3tejz0QIuWjvOj6gtevHTI2KQJBP7EzVPxJsskTajXLv/s400/IvanOoze1.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5542971988224447490" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 286px; " /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">This is eerily similiar to my expression when my water bottle exploded. </span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0); "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Which is what reminded me of when my sisters and I would play Power Rangers and fight over who got to play Kimberly, the pink ranger. Because we thought she was the prettiest and really wanted to date the green ranger - or the white ranger. It was a very complicated love triangle. So we compromised by calling each other Kimberly, Dimberly, and Wimberly. And then this reminded me of how I read that some celebrity married someone named Gimberly. Which made me really want to write to Gimberly and ask her if her parents were also Power Rangers fans that always wanted to be Kimberly. And then ask her if she knows Gimberly is not a real name.</span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0); "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0); "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">And this is why I think it would be much more productive if I drank Diet Coke at work instead.</span></span></span></div>Chelsiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06083913996726148391noreply@blogger.com3