sparkerly.com

Things that are Awesome

I saw this thing months and months ago, but I don't think I ever posted it.  If I did, I'm sorry to repeat myself.  But I was reminded about it when I was looking at a site called the Daily What and I thought I should point you over to it, in case you haven't seen it before.  What is it?  Behold:

Bookstore WIN

Last night Joel and I went on our monthly trek to the bookstore to buy unnecessary books that we will probably look at once and never touch again until the next time we move and have to pack and unpack said unnecessary books.  This month's topic: Backyard Beekeeping.  Last month's topic: a book about planting gardens in Utah, which is probably really cool but also has been sitting under the bed after I finished flipping through it a month and a half ago.

Anyway, while Joel was deciding which book would be most helpful as he begins his journey into maybe, possibly keeping bees in the backyard someday, perhaps, I saw this:

Hee!  Awesome, right?  The only way it would have been better is if they had put the Bible section by the Mythical Studies section, where it belongs.  Oh, SNAP!  I said it!  Look at me.  I watched Religulous this weekend and now I'm dissing the Word of God.  What's next?  A Darwin fish on the back of my car?  Scribbling out "God" on all of our money and writing "Obama" in its place?  Becoming a Communist?!?  Where will I stop?  Next time, I'll have to make sure to get a lot of books about possibly, perhaps, maybe, someday becoming a real atheist. 

Until then: Just kidding, Jeebus!  Ha ha... ha?  Say hi to your dad!

You might have noticed

that I haven't posted anything since April.  No?  Just me?  But I have excuses:

1. Our computer broke and so the only time I really have a computer is at work, and you know how much I hate to write blog posts at work. 
2. Speaking of work: it's busy.  I'm writing pretty much all of th appeals we're doing, which means I'm writing two to three 20 page memos a month.  After all that writing, sometimes my brain hurts and tries to escape from my head, so I have to stare at the wall until I can form a sentence.  I've also been doing more hearings, which... let's just say they aren't my favorite.
3. We have a house and a yard and a garden that I have to neglect.  That's a lot of neglect, you guys!  It takes me all day sometimes!  There is so much laying around to do at home that I almost can't even get it all done by myself.  And god knows my husband isn't going to help me with it!  What with his, "Hey, Carrie, let's go pull weeds!" and "Carrie, it's a beautiful day outside!  Let's go on a walk!"  It's insufferable, really.
4. I am doing absolutely nothing and, thus, I have a distinct lack of subject matter about which I can blog.  I've also found that other people's blogs are much more interesting than mine, so I've been spending my time looking at those instead of doing it myself.

It's 7 o'clock. Do you know where my husband is?

Did I ever tell you the story of when a Salt Lake City police officer came to our house to question me about the whereabouts of my husband?  The husband to whom I had not spoken since shouting "I love you!" before slamming the door on my way to work, more than 12 hours earlier.  The husband who was not answering his work or cell phones.  The husband who owns the same make and model of car the cop was telling me had been involved in a hit-and-run accident.  Did I know where he was?  Did I know if he had any business in Bountiful (which is about 15 minutes north of our house)?  Did I know his license plate number?  Could he be mistaken for a average height woman, with long blond curly hair?

With the exception of the last question, I didn't have any answers for the police officer that day.  (And if you're wondering: Joel is a tall drink of water with short brown hair and a beard.  Nobody's confusing him with a lady.  Unless we're killing Nazi Zombies and then he's my bitch.  Just kidding!) It turned out to be some weird case of mistaken identity (note: eye witness accounts are notoriously unreliable), but for about half an hour I was convinced, CONVINCED, that my precious husband had been carjacked and was lying in a ditch somewhere between our house and work.  I called his cell phone about a million times in that 30 minutes and finally, when I heard the key turn the lock in our door, I flung the door open and I squeezed him harder than anyone has ever been squozen in the history of the world.  I have never been so happy to see anyone in my life!  Phew!

So, it's times like today when I have to think back on that day and remember how scared I was at the thought of losing him.  I have to remember how much I love him and how I'd be lost without him.  Really, I would.  I've only known him for, what, like 4 years?  And, at the risk of sounding (even more) overly schmoopy, he makes me really understand what all the fuss is about; I finally know why so many books and movies and plays and songs have been written about love.  I've never been more happy in my life, which is why my family has embraced Joel so wholeheartedly.  They can see how happy he makes me and it makes them love him because I'm not such an almighty bitch anymore.

Hey! I have a huge deadline in two days!

And I'm on here writing this instead of concentrating on writing an appeal brief!  Amazing, right?  WRONG!  I am nothing if not a master procrastinator.  I was going to make myself a certificate, but, well, I saw something shiny and got distracted and ended up eating some Girl Scout cookies instead.

So, there are a few things I'd like to discuss with you today.  First, our house is fantastic!  I love it and wish I had met it before I met Joel so I could have married it instead!  We're still getting settled in, but we're getting there.  I've invited some friends over for dinner in a couple of weeks, so that gives me a deadline.  A deadline that I will ignore until the very last minute until I am going crazy cleaning 15 minutes before they're supposed to get here and complaining about how this happens EVERY TIME and WHY do I even HAVE friends, in the first place?  I'm a horrible person!  No one should want to come to my house! 

Perhaps, one day, I will post pictures of the house.  Alas, that day is not today.  Sorry.  Suffice it to say, the wonderfulness of our house has brought some to tears... and this time it wasn't because of the weird odor.  It was because it was actually wonderful!

Secondly, I think we have a renter for our condo.  Finally.  I was so excited that she actually returned our rental application that I almost sent her flowers and a promise come tuck her in every night. 

Also, after some real soul searching, I have realized that the reason the condo hasn't rented yet is my big fat mouth.  Joel helpfully pointed this out to me on Sunday, after I told a prospective renter that, if he's lucky, he might get a front row seat to watch the cops hassle the homeless people hanging out across the street at the library.  Who doesn't want that?  I once saw a cop talking to a homeless dude and the dude whipped it out and started peeing on a wall right in front of the cop.  Amazing, right?  Not really a selling point, or so I've been told.

Next up: Tomatoes.  We are growing some tomato seedlings right now and I am peeing my pants because I'm so excited.  Every day, I go home and gaze at them lovingly just as if they were my own newborn children.  Every time a new sprout comes up, I make sure to tell it how happy it will be making me in about 3-4 months.  So, so happy, you guys.

In other news: I need to know where I can get a panda.  I think that God wants me to have one, because why else would he provide me a house that has a bamboo forest in the back yard?  Yes, the previous owners planted a bunch of bamboo because... who can say?  I have no Earthly idea.  But what I do know is this: Pandas eat bamboo.  It makes perfect sense to me, then, that we should get a panda.  However, apparently, pandas are pretty rare and hard to procure.  So, I think I will have to settle for this:

 
Hey! You got your dog in my panda!

Lastly, I have invented a new pseudo-swear.  The next time you're surrounded by children/grandparents/clients/Jesus, instead of dropping the F bomb, simply replace it with "firetruck".  Example: "What the firetruck?"  Or maybe: "Shut the firetruck up!"  It's pretty awesome, right?  Right?  Well, if you don't think so, you can go firetruck yourself.  See?  Awesome.

Trying to Rent Out Our Condo:

It's like dating, but without the possibility of sex at the end of the night.  Unless you're like I was, and then it's pretty much exactly like dating.

Here's the thing.  We've been trying to rent out our (empty, mortgage laden) condo for about a month and have yet to have anyone even return an application for it.  Plenty of people come and look but, for whatever reason, we haven't had any luck.  There was one promising guy: good job, married, responsible, looking to move fairly soon.  His job was even moving their office about a block away from our building.  Could be more perfect for him?  Apparently, it could because he has completely blown us off.  Won't respond to e-mails asking if he's still interested and telling him that we're decreasing the rent.  We even offered to give him a discount on the first month's rent!  And yet, nothing!

It's the same for other people we've shown it to.  They come to see it and they are all enthusiastic and think it's great and... then weeks go by and they never call.  They never write.  They want to see other apartments.  They're just not looking to commit to something right now.  They're just interested in renting a condo that has bigger boobs.  You know the drill: It's not us, it's them.  And, while something like this is not as confusing and infuriating as it is when it happens romantically, it is pretty damn close.

I mean, we are all adults here.  If you aren't interested, just let me know!  I won't come and key your car or send an e-mail to your coworkers telling them you gave my condo the clap!  I won't show up at your new place and cry about how you never really gave our condo a chance!  Seriously, just tell me you don't want what I'm selling and I will leave you alone. 

But don't come crying to me in 2 months saying that you're sorry and you do want to rent the condo after all and you should have realized what a kick-ass deal it is.  You had your chance, and now you will just have to live with the fact that your new place doesn't have central air, high ceilings, granite counter tops, new appliances and an amazing view of downtown.  You'll just have to put up with the shitty freeway and public transportation access that you have in your new place.  You made your bed in a different apartment, and you will just have to sleep in it!  Unless our condo is still vacant, and then I will totally take you back.  Because, when times are tough, I'll take it where I can get it.  Again, just like when I was dating.

"There was alcohol involved..."

I said this at lunch today whilst recounting the story of when I met my friend Melanie's husband (who was her boyfriend at the time), Corey.  You see, Melanie introduced Corey to the group and I immediately piped up, "Hey Forrest!  Nice to meet you!"  After hearing this story, my co-workers looked at me and one asked, "How did you mistake 'Corey' for 'Forrest''?"  My answer?  "Well, there was alcohol involved."

And that got me thinking.  Do all of my interesting and/or funny stories have something to do with alcohol?  I know that anything happening prior to the age of 23 didn't, as I didn't take my first sip of alcohol until I was 23.  For instance, there was that one time I got lice from the beds at summer camp.  Or when I said the F-word and my mom found out and almost killed me.  Or... yeah, I don't have too many entertaining stories to tell from that period of my life.

Post-alcohol Carrie, though, seems to have a bevy of stories that delight and entertain audiences around the world!  That is, if my parents aren't in the audience; I don't think they'd be too delighted to hear some of these particular stories.

Like the time that I had come back to Utah after spending my last semester of law school in Las Vegas and I had gone to a party and I was cold, so I was (creepily) asking people to lay on top of me to keep me warm.  Hilarious!  Everybody loves that one!

Or when I went to visit a friend in Boise and conned my way into getting a free hot dog with the works from Sam the hot dog vendor!  Then, a couple of years later, seeing Sam on the streets of Boise again and getting ANOTHER free hot dog.  That is how charming I am when I'm a little lubricated, my friends.  (Also, big boobs don't hurt, as far as hot dog vendors go.)

Then, that one time in law school when I went to a party and ___________ and then I ___________ and then my friend fell off the porch and we all lost it.  (I left those blanks in there because you could pretty much fill them in with any number of crazy scenarios and you would have a pretty accurate account of any law school party I attended.)

Oooo!  Or when a couple of co-workers and I took the "fun" bus to Wendover (Nevada, about 1.5 hours from Salt Lake) and I won $450 playing craps.  Some guy, who was trying to pick me up, was putting down money for me and letting me keep all the chips.  This little excursion paid for a big chunk of my rent that month, in addition to allowing me to buy a very soft dark blue fake-fur coat, which still hangs in my closet to this day.  Good times, you guys. 

I could go on, but I don't want you to get the idea that I can only have fun if I have a couple of drinks.  Not true!  I was completely sober for my wedding, and that was the best day of my life!  I have fun every day at work and I'm never drunk there (for the most part)!  Kidding!  See?  I'm just as funny without a buzz on! 

However, I think that if you do ever get a chance to make some memories with Tipsy-Carrie, you should totally do it.  Drunk-Carrie is fun, too, but she can get a little messy... and handsy.  Yeah, just stick with Tipsy-Carrie and you should be on your way to some awesome stories of your very own.  YOU'RE WELCOME.

Not at this address

A few years ago, when g-mail was the New! Big! Thing! I started an account.  For my address, I used my first and middle names: carriejoyce.  Ok, now you know my g-mail address-- but don't send me anything because I never check that account!  Well, almost never.  I got curious as to whether or not I had any e-mails waiting for me in g-mail a couple of months ago and I went over to check it out.

I had about 90 e-mails, most of which were spam.  Once I got rid of that stuff, I looked at what was left.  After opening a few of them, I realized that they were all addressed to a woman in California named Carrie Joyce.  One was from her brother or father (or some male relative with the same last name) who happens to be some big-wig on the Chicago Board Options Exchange where, apparently, they trade options...?  He was forwarding them an article about some list he made or something. 

Just need to prime the pump a little.

Yeah, it seems like a million years since I posted anything.  What of it?  I've been busy, y'all.  Busy packing and hiring people to move my crap and hiring people to clean the place I've neglected cleaning for 3 months, and wishing we had not moved in the first place because it is totally cutting into my sitting around and drinking wine time.  L to the a-m-e, you guys.

So, I'm really going to try to post more.  I know what you're thinking, "But Carrie, as Yoda says, 'Do... or do not.  There is no try.'"  But Yoda also said, "Mudhole? Slimy? My home this is!"  Bitch lived in a slimy mudhole, and I'm supposed to listen to him?  Maybe if Yoda tried to clean his house it would be a little less of a slimy mudhole and then maybe some friends would come over to visit him and he'd stop talking all weird.

Speaking of slimy mudholes: Our new house is great!  I am planning on writing a post on the whole moving ordeal, but it will take some time for me to get it all out there.  Needless to say, I had no idea how much CRAP Joel and I have and, if I had known, we'd probably never have left that tiny condo!  Why do I have no less than 5 boxes of shoes?  Why have I moved these pictures from my trip to Niagra Falls in 1998 no less than 6 times throughout the years?  Is this entire box full of empty picture frames?  Did I actually pack and pay to store boxes and boxes of books given to me by my father for Christmas over the years?  Books that I have no interest in reading, but I've kept because they're from my dad and he thought enough to buy me a book about living with a neurotic dog because I... live with a neurotic dog.

Anyhoodle, I love you, readers (all 5 of you)!  I'll be back!

Please hold... Your house will be with you shortly.

Today is originally the day we had planned to move.  We were going to close on the 12th and then take the long weekend to get the new house ready for us to move in.  We were going to paint and clean and shampoo the carpets.  It was going to be perfect!  Except for the fact that it didn't happen that way at all.