Luck

Once again, it's been a bit of a while. No matter, I'm writing today because I CAN and some things are just too good not to celebrate. I'll start with my cat's drinking problem. She loves her water, and if I leave a cup out she is almost guaranteed to knock it over in an attempt to have access to every last drop. I've watched her do this; she'll walk up to the cup in question, stick her head in to drink as much as she can and then put her paw right over the rim to knock the whole damn thing over. It's an impressive thing to see, but I do not appreciate it. Catsby has ruined homework, soaked books, made numerous general messes and caused one computer keyboard to sputter and die. I've known about this for years and I constantly ensure that nothing of too much importance is left in a place that could become damp. Until three nights ago.

My 8 month old Macbook Pro.

As I sat playing around online and chatting on my cell phone, I was overcome with the sudden urge to blow my nose. I stood up and walked the 2.5 steps to my bathroom, and before I could make it back to my couch I heard something. Unfamiliar. I took a hesitant step into the living room and almost stopped in shock, for there sat my laptop in a small puddle of water. I was speaking with my friend Sara at the time and I became mute as I ran over and picked up my computer. I was shaking from head to toe. This was not a cheap laptop and I would not be able to afford another. After managing to grunt a few sentences to Sara and hang up the phone, I began to really freak out because it died. Because I am an idiot, I immediately tried to turn it back on. The light kind of flickered, then everything died. It did not come back on. As an interesting sidenote, I later learned that trying to turn back on a piece of electronics after it encounters water is not actually a good idea; it's the worse possible thing you could do, short of pouring more water onto the device. In retrospect, that makes a lot of sense and I should have known, but at the time it was completely automatic to just press that start key.

Won't ever do that again. After my computer made that sad dying sound, I immediate took out the battery and carefully blotted up all the water. There didn't seem to be a lot, and it luckily didn't go anywhere on the actual keypad, but I'm realistic and was quite aware that I could have a very expensive paperweight sitting in my hands. Various calls to my tech geek friends all assured me that just letting it dry out for a while was the only thing I could do. I set it up on a towel with a high powered fan and waved my hands above it in hopes of transferring some magic. Then I let it sit.

Over the next two days I read just about every blog and story (on computers other than my own) that I could, and they all convinced me I had about a 50% chance of things working out in my favor. This morning I decided that every bit of possible moisture had long since evaporated and watched in fear as my boyfriend put it all back together. After another moment of magic hand gesticulation, I pushed the button and...........well obviously it worked, because my computer is what I'm now writing on. Hysterical relief ensued. I have said my prayers of thanks to the universe and I truly know how lucky I am. Breathing easier, I sign off now but there is a strong possibility the near death of my computer will instill in me the urge to use it more, and blog more often. Or maybe not. But I am extremely thankful it's up and running, and today you can count me one of the happiest girls in the world.

Must Try Harder

Once upon a time and long, long ago (January to be exact) I decided to re-emerge in the blogosphere. Unfortunately, I have proved a bit lazy and unproductive when it comes to blogging on a regular basis, and for this I am sorry. I tell myself I would be better about all this if I had a phone that allowed me to take relevant pictures to add to my stories, but in reality I just need to suck it up and start writing more.

So here goes. I will *attempt* to write more frequently, with as much intrigue and sass as ever. At this point I don't even care if anyone out there is reading this, I just want to get back in the habit of writing. Bear with me folks, and I'll do my best.

Overheard

Overheard in a restaurant bathroom today: a 6 year old girl singing the refrain from the popular and overplayed commercial over and over again. Imagine: this little girl uttering the words "five dollar foot long" while washing her hands, and somehow managing to work some crude hand gestures into the process. Her mother summed it up nicely on their way out of the bathroom by informing her child that she was "oh so weird". Like that's going to help her grow up without a complex.

Goodbye, Motor Vehicle

It's official. For the very first time in nearly 9 years, I am sans car. It seems like only yesterday that my parents lovingly sat me down to inform me that since I had just turned 14, I would have to get a job and start saving if I wanted a car when I hit the legal age to drive. And work I did, at the trusty old Dairy Queen (which provided me with enough material for the book I will one day write), which enabled me to purchase my very first, very own vehicle when I did eventually turn 16. The Dodge Shadow (or as my old friend Marcus so eloquently put it, the Absence of Light). Here's a photo of a car that was never mine, but somewhat similar.

It was a good car, one that got me through a lot. Then I decided I was far too cool for such a standard automobile, so I worked a little harder and got a sporty little thing that didn't really have much pick up:


This car got me many speeding tickets, as well as many honks from truck drivers on the interstate. I had it for a few years before I got the urge to purchase yet another vehicle (a '76 Mercury Monarch, a car that my mother ironically drove a newer version of way before I was born), which I got for the stellar price of $800 - paid for in cold, hard cash. So, for a time, I was the proud, gluttonous owner of two cars.

Did you see the awesome tree house in my backyard?

Anyway, The Monarch (affectionately known as The Beast) was so totally bad ass that I could not pass it up. It had a V8 engine, huge leather bench seats, no power steering and windows tinted so dark I once got pulled over by a cop who said they needed to be stripped. I bought this car in the summer, which was convenient because it didn't really drive in the snow or rain. Before long, the brakes went out and it had to go. This was around the same time that the transmission in the little red Tiburon decided to stop working, so I was in the car market once again.

So one fine day, which happened to be the day a cousin of mine got married, I met the Mazda. I have loved each and every one of my cars in a very special way (not that special) but this one was different. As my sister put it, this was my "grown up car". It was my first with four doors, had power locks, windows and seats, cruise control AND a sunroof. Here's a picture:


This car was really great. It lasted longer than the marriage of said cousin.

The Friday before Christmas, this car was totaled by a drunk driver while it sat in my driveway (or rather, the driveway of my boyfriend's parents). The corresponding story is long, frustrating and frankly, almost unbelievable. Suffice it to say that a large, middle aged man with a long white beard ran the rear truck tire of his company truck over the front side of my car, rendering it worthless. Oh, he was wearing a Santa hat. And he drove away after it happened, which just fueled the reasoning behind me calling the cops on him and landing his sorry self in jail. Apparently, he didn't even realize that he had done this:

In case you can't quite tell, the hood was crushed and pushed up around the wheel well. The lights were shattered and the container with the windshield wiper fluid (at least, I think it was the wiper fluid) was hanging to the ground. It wasn't pretty.

I don't know if you've ever been lucky enough to spend a week dealing with various insurance companies and ensuing issues, but I wouldn't recommend it. I eventually managed to obtain a rental car that was paid for with insurance other than my own, which was nice because I was scheduled to drive back to Indiana exactly two business days after the incident. His insurance company didn't come to take my poor car away until last Saturday, over two weeks after it was mauled. So to make matters worse, I had to walk past my sad little friend and be reminded of how unfairly our relationship had come to an end - I mean, I wasn't even in it. My faithful old car didn't deserve to go out like that. I plan on writing a poem to commemorate it.

Last night was my final night with any independent mode of transportation. I turned in the rental and today was my first day in 78,336 days that I did not technically own a motor vehicle. It's a very strange feeling, but I think I'm going to have to get used to it. I can carpool with James and drive his car when need be, plus I won't really need it once we move closer to public transportation. Still, it's slightly unsettling. I am glad that I'm reducing my carbon footprint, though, so there's the silver lining...always find the silver lining!

Commercials Which Bother Me

We all have them. Those irksome commercials that flash before our eyes with no warning and proceed to annoy the living snot out of us. I was lucky enough to encounter one such advertisement earlier this evening, and just had to share.

The Morning After Pill (or Plan B, or back up better than the A-word, or your own personal ticket to hell, however you want to think of it) is new, poorly understood and thus controversial. I am a proud liberal but I'm also a firm believer in the "live and let live" mentality, so I won't dilute this post with my own opinions on this topic. Suffice to say, I'm glad it's an option to those who need it. What I have a problem with, however, is the way a recent marketing campaign highlights how the modern everyday woman can rely on this little pill to get her out of those, *ahem*, sticky situations.

Now, who wouldn't want one of these?


Yeah, me neither. So I can appreciate taking the appropriate measure to ensure having one of these does not happen. The commercial that really irks me, though, only shows one half of the combo needed to procreate. In the ad, there are 5 separate females waking up in 5 separate bedrooms, each shaking her head like she's made...well, a bad life choice. Which, granted, having unprotected sex is if you aren't trying to enlarge our already swollen population. Anyway, the thing that really bothers me is that each and every one of these women wakes up in bed ALONE. As in, only girls who sleep around with random men so much that they can't even bother with inviting them to spend the night will need this pill. It also implies that birth control is solely up to the female, and if the condom breaks, well then you're on your own toots. C'mon! Couldn't they have shown at least one guy around, even if the worry and anxiety on his face is clearly an act? Or are they really only trying to market this pill to those with loose...morals? I mean, I'm all for women taking control of their lives and not having to rely on men for constant support, but the last thing we need is the media making it seem like it's fine and dandy for ladies to be the only ones to worry with this issue. Don't let this commercial fool you - an unwanted pregnancy affects many people besides the woman with the womb!

Why the Wyndham Hotel is a Lousy Place to Stay

One of my favorite things about blogging is that it gives the average person an ability to rant and rave over injustices, and potentially have the world take notice. I'm not so egotistical to think that the whole world will be riveted to their seat over this next blog post, but I will be satisfied if I think I can keep a few of you out there from ever stepping foot in a Wyndham Hotel. Here is a picture of the entrance to the hotel I will be writing about, just in case you ever happen to walk by and feel like spitting in it's general direction.

I reserved a suite at the Wyndham (633 N. St. Clair St, Chicago IL) for some friends and I for New Years Eve. I had stayed at a Wyndham Hotel once before and had a pleasurable experience, so I was excited to go back. We arrived Wednesday evening and proceeded to have an a very festive and entertaining night, in part due to the party that some wealthy kid our age rented out the hotel ballroom to have. This resulted in lots of skankily dressed women being chased around by extremely intoxicated men (and vice versa). This entire group of 100+ party goers swarmed over every floor and raised the noise level by about 75%. Entertaining to say the least, and not something we minded, as the beer bottle brawls and randomly passed out people livened things up a bit.

Before check out the next morning, I was concerned to see that my bank account had much less in it than it should have; it was missing roughly the amount of the hotel room, which had been paid for at the beginning of December. As I discussed this with the guy at the front desk, he assured me that the funds were on hold on my card until I checked out and they would be back the next day. This policy didn't and still doesn't make much sense to me, as my room was already paid for, but whatever. Bureaucracy at work. The man at the front desk also mentioned how the party from the ballroom resulted in one woman walking down the halls completely naked and winding up in bed in some random couples room, as well as two people found doing the dirty in the ballroom that very morning. Obviously, a much wilder party than we had had in our room. Anyway, after being assured the money was on it's way back to my account, we left.

Flash Forward to yesterday, January 2nd. My bank account not only still had a hold on it for the amount of the hotel room, but it had an additional $300 hold from the hotel. This basically took everything in my checking account and rendered it empty. I had at least one check bounce, and I was left with nothing. I called the hotel and they said that the money in the amount of the hotel room would be back on my account by the next day (and it was, although I'm still hazy as to why they had to hold that to begin with. If someone out there can give me a coherent answer, it would be appreciated). However, they said that the additional $300 is because they found a large mirror broken when the cleaning people entered our room to clean it. Now. I am an honest person, and had I or one of my guests broken ANYTHING, I would have been fully prepared to pay for it. Hell, we took everything out of our mini fridge and hid it so we wouldn't be tempted to binge and accrue any additional charges - obviously the room was a bit of a splurge for us. Anyway, the point is, no one broke a mirror. Of this I am 100% certain. When I spoke with the hotel manager they said that they have no record of any damages before we checked in, and record of damages at check out. This is what I find absurd. It's basically my word against theirs, and as any Midwestern working class girl knows, the Man almost always wins.



I have spoken with the hotel manager, who transferred me to the security team, who gave me the name and number of someone in charge of their "Risk Management" department, who apparently does not exist in the real world. When I tried the number it led me to the voicemail of a woman other than the woman I was trying to reach, and when I called the hotel to speak directly with her, I was told no one by that name worked there. It gets better and better, doesn't it? As I type, I am waiting for someone to get back to me about this issue. In the very least, I want picture and documentation that my room was the room with the broken mirror. My checking account has already been charged the $300, and I'm not holding my breath about ever getting it back. THIS is why NO ONE should EVER go to the WYNDHAM HOTEL, EVER. You could get stuck paying outrageous fees for a crime you did not commit. The only other possibility I have for this situation is that there is an evil, mean little ghost that roams the halls of the Wyndham and breaks things after guests have checked out. And who wants to stay at a hotel with mean ghosts?

I filed a complaint with the Better Business Bureau and have now taken to my blog - I also fully intend to tell as many travelers and potential hotel guests about my ordeal as humanly possible, in the hopes of deterring at least one of them from ever using their hard earned money at the Wyndham. If anyone else out there has any sort of story similar to mine, I would love to hear it, if for any other reason than to know that I'm not alone in the crazy, foul world of hotel injustice.

A New Year, A New Blog

And she's back! For those of you familiar with my writing antics, you will be happy to know that I have decided to re-enter the blogosphere (and for those of you unfamiliar with said antics...well, aren't you in for a treat). It's an idea that I've been toying with for a while, and now that I have a super new laptop I simply cannot keep myself from spewing stories of hilarity, perversion and just plain bad luck. Essentially, stories from my life in the suburbs of Chicago as I try to inch closer and closer to the Big City. I hope you gain just a smidgen of enjoyment from reading this, and if you don't...well, the internet is a big place, and I'm sure you can entertain yourself in some other way.