Making Up With the Blogging Universe

So it's been about a century since I've posted. In my attempt to make up for my neglect I am telling you everything. Everything...

Juice Squeeze
I have this new fondness for Odwalla meaning that I'm convinced now that I can't live without it. It tastes the way fruit is supposed to and has all the vitamins that would be in the pill I can't swallow. It's usually 90% or more real juice or puree so it's healthy (although not low calorie) and when I drink one in the morning I don't get hungry until I'm supposed to at noon. Odwalla makes me happy. Except... I might have to start selling organs to afford it. I only ever buy them on sale which is usually 2 for $6 at my local Safeway. If I drank one every day like I want to, I'd be spending $90/mo. And if I decided that only work days justify the goodness, I'm still shelling out $60/mo. At least there's no tax on food in WA. But still, I'm going to have to tone it down. I canceled my extended cable and that bill was less than my juice bill. Sigh...

Halloween Heartache
I love Halloween. Pretty much everything about it. I have a problem, though, because I can never decide what I want to be. The first week of the month I happily think of what I could be for Halloween and decorate my apt/condo with monsters, ghosts and witches. And then, around the middle of the month when I still haven't made a costume decision, I decide it doesn't matter anyway because I have nowhere to go that would require a costume anyway. Then, about the third week, I buy a costume (for my dog) along with tons of Halloween candy "for my dad when he takes the dogs out" and start watching my Halloween movies and devouring what my dad has left behind of the chocolate. By Halloween night when everybody I know (and by that I mean everybody I might recognize if I ran into them at the grocery store) went to the lame single's ward dance, I stay at home in my Halloween pajamas holding a bowl full of wrappers waiting for the single trick-or-treater that comes across my door. "What are you supposed to be?"
"Just take your candy!"

Camping Catastrophe
I have been camping at my parents' house since June. June! Do you realize that it's now October? I bought a condo in July. All of my stuff is there and I've spent countless hours in it trying to make it habitable. But it's not quite there. But tomorrow, so help me, I'm moving into that dump with or without the threat of harmful chemical exposure! Here's the story, kids. Although there are several things I hoped to change about my new purchase (replacing the permanent cigarette smoke they called a carpet, putting in new counter tops and kitchen floor, changing the bathroom fixtures...) the one thing I really couldn't tolerate was the HUGE mirror in the bedroom. It covered almost all of the largest wall. It was creepy and would possibly prove fatal in an earthquake. So, my friend Julie came over with her handy crow bar and knocked it down. This exposed some major problems. You see, whatever moron decided a huge mirror would be a good idea, also thought it was necessary to take a hammer and make tons of holes all over the wall. Maybe they planned to fill the holes with glue to hold the mirror on. But they weren't filled with glue. No, the glue was this black cement which they threw on OVER THE WALLPAPER! Wallpaper... it was still everywhere even though the idiot that lived there before me had just painted the room a nasty green color. And I'm using the word "painted" lightly because there were streaks on the ceiling, the carpet and he even painted over the top part of the blinds and all over the doors!! Yes, he painted over the wallpaper... on half of the bedroom. On the other half of the bedroom he had apparently ripped off the wallpaper but left the glue on the wall and painted over the glue. I have tried several different types of chemicals but only one of them took the glue-paint mixture off the dry wall. Unfortunately, it also took off the dry wall. So now I'm left with two choices. I can replace the dry wall or cover that crap up with some texture. I'm going with B because I'm not a millionaire. So all this evening and Saturday will be spent with some drywall texture crap (I'll have to wear goggles and a face mask because apparently it causes cancer) and paint. But by Saturday night... I'll have a bedroom!!! A beautiful bedroom! Well, at least not a hideously ugly bedroom.

DISNEYLAND!
My Heather turned 30 and to celebrate a bunch of us made a trip to the happiest place on earth. I got from it a break from my new stressful job, an opportunity to see some people I love, a visit with the sun that I'm going to miss so much this winter, a few new friends that didn't throw me overboard on the Pirates ride, about a dozen trips on the Tower of Terror's elevator and a new fondness for pineapple whips. I laughed more than I have laughed in years. Literally. And still, random giggles and smiles escape me when I suddenly remember something somebody said or did on the trip. "Guys, slow down. I can't make the minimum height requirement on my knees!" We witnessed a lot of birthday miracles with our awesome VIP passes, a camera recovery, extra rides on Thunder Mountain and vendors selling Coke as far as the eye could see. Why can't I live there?!

Gym
I'll be joining a gym today. I'm nervous because the last time I had dealings with a gym it did not end well because when the Devil has your credit card number and your phone number your life is over. When I tried to cancel my membership the guy called me over and over telling me how fat I was and how I would end up single without any friends unless I kept my membership. This is the same guy that had signed me up months earlier and had a freaking bear costume for a body. He was the hairiest person I'd ever met. I could see hair poking out between the threads of his gym pants and he had a 5 0'clock shadow on his exposed chest and it was only noon. Shudder.

Stalker
He was an Asian man probably in his mid 40's. He sat next to me while I waited for my plane to Seattle and watched me as I read. Just watched me. While I read. For two hours. Every half hour or so he'd poke me and make a comment or ask a question I didn't quite understand. I'd give an awkward smile and then go back to reading. While he watched. I loaded the plane with the first group and found a spot near a window. He loaded the plane with the second group and since everybody else mistook my pleading eyes of desperation as creepiness and left me to myself, there was a spot available for my stalker to have a seat next to me. Which he did. The plane ride went pretty much the same way waiting for the plane did. He watched me read and poked me every now and again. "Are you an American?"
"Yes."
"Are you married?"
"Yes."
At this he finally settled in and went to sleep.
Then he followed me to baggage claim. Not that you can really call it following when his bags are located at the same place mine are. But did he have to walk so close? I grabbed my bag and called my dad who was waiting in the cell phone lot. He said he'd be right there. But my dad is slow. Stalker guy came out and stood by me for a while. Then poked me and asked if I had a ride while pointing to his waiting car. Yes, I do have a ride. Good day, sir!!!