cyanide and happiness

Cyanide & Happiness @ Explosm.net

The Quality Control Alliance

oh sweet jesus!

The Quality Control Alliance

Ok, what is going on here?

So, I recently put an ad on craigslist for a roommate. Ok, fine. I got four inquiries in a matter of hours, and the room isn't even available yet. I'll wait, and when it gets closer to the time, I'll repost, but I might hang on to one woman who has a banjo and a dog named Sugar, but-I digress. The whole point of this posting is this e-mail (below). What follows is a real response to my ad, and I am left simply scratching my head. Please, read:

Dearest, I am glad hearing from you so soon. I want to tell you that I am happy and willing to be your roommate if only you can help me hold the room until I come back this month being August. I am a home girl right from my native country in Nassau Bahamas.

(okay, I stepped in and deleted this, because it was crazy long, and bugged me, but yes--it was a scam--I contacted Craigslist about it. Very weird).

Update: So, obviously, Melanie is moving out, but we have talked, and...it's good. We are still friends, but living together just isn't working. She has admitted that she doesn't really live well with any of her friends (yet, she's moving in with another--good luck, Akasha). We had a teary little talk, and she's still coming out to the farm (oh yeah, I'm at the farm this week--love the farm!) and Ziggy will still stay at the house sometimes, and all that is good. Especially since Daisy gets blue without her Zig.

Suckshine

A coulple years ago, Melanie and I hiked Mt. St Helens, pretty much right before it's most recent rumblings began. August 11, in fact, 2001? 2002? Anyway, it was a pretty hard hike, and the other girl with us had asthma, and was having a hard time and the whole way up, I was very positive and encouraging, staying by her side and motivating her to keep going. (Melanie had no patience for that kind of nicety, and went ahead and met us at the top). The two of them nicknamed me suckshine, because I have this tendancy to muster up some sort of postitive energy, even when things totally suck.

So--I'm going to try to do that here--really really try. I mean, what's so bad, right? I've lost a friend, who really didn't treat me all that well in the first place, so now, let's say, I've got the absence of abuse, which is good, right? Um, yeah.

Also--now I've got more room to store all my crap, right? Uh-huh.

And....um, there's a lot more room in the fridge without all her beer in there....yeah, that's good.

Oh, and because I'm all upset about this, it's kind of like a break up, and I've lost 7 pounds! YEAH!!! There it is. Way to go, suckshine!

Oh, why the hell not turn this into drama central?

See the happy drunk girl in the cowboy hat? That's me. The other one? That's Mel. That's our Easter party, right after I bought the house. What fun! A ton of people, a ton of vodka, beer, and many misconstured hook-ups. Ah, good times. Those were the days...

So, yep. I gave Melanie her 30 day notice. It's really going to suck, and I really need the money, but she is really awful to me, and I'm just not going to let her treat me like crap. I am not at ease in my own house, and have been avoiding it for the past two days to stay away from her, and that's just crap.
And, it really does suck, because we've been friends for a while, and we've been pretty darn close, but it is very hard being friends with somebody who is goddamned determined to be miserable, and watch out if you aren't, because she'll do her best to make sure you are, as well. And you know what? I have a hard enough time being happy on my own, without some negative vortex of self-pity trying her best to drag me down too!



The worst part...I know how she treats people once she feels she has a right to treat them like shit. Not that she hasn't already been treating me poorly, but it's been a passive aggressive kind of shit, but now...she'll bust out the big guns baby. All along, she's been looking for a reason to hate me. I guess we're there now. Aw hell...

oh please

huh. Well, it looks like I need a new roommate!

Also, it looks like when you get a backbone, and tell somebody it's not okay to treat you like shit, you lose friends. well...

Portland Public Art: Baby Graveyard in North Portland

Portland Public Art: Baby Graveyard in North Portland

Sing it, Olivia!

So...

Recently, I realized I'm getting older! I mean, I never really thought of my (undisclosed) age as old or anything, especially when I saw other women of my age being fit and hip (to some extent). But lately, I've realized that I'm invisibile. I'm serious! In bars, restaurants, shops, and most of all, the gym. And see, that's what this is really all about. Over this summer--actually, for the past 6 months or so, I've watched all of my friends gradually gain weight. Now, Jasmin is pregnant, so she's got an excuse, but the rest of us--really! We're growing our own personally food/beer babies, and it's gross.

At first, I actually thought I was immune. I was going to Kung Fu and seriously kicking ass. I wasn't really gaining weight. But, turns out, I was (read did). And now--I'm the heaviest I've ever been. Down right fat, I tell you--but that's me, I've got body image issues (Thanks, Calista!). But really--the heaviest ever. But--the difference is, I joined the gym. And I actually go. And I work out. A lot. For, like, hours. And, it's working--I've lost 5 pounds (yay!) and I feel better about myself, which is good, blah blah blah, but the thing is--I'm completely invisible. No, it's true. I fit right up there with all the old Asian ladies that are there (except that they're Asian). I mean, in the yoga class, I'm the old, middle-aged, fat lady who can't do the poses, and has to modify them, BECAUSE SHE'S OLD! (but see, I know the truth--the real reason I can't do the poses is because my lower back is so messed up--which actually could be because I'm old, I guess). Sigh.

But then there's the back issue (trust me, this all ties together). So, I go to the physical therapist, and she gives me all these exercises, and I do them, and actually, they are working--there is less pain. I've actually slept past 4 am twice now! Yay! I mean, it's a drag when your back hurts so bad that it actually freakin' wakes you up in the morning--wait, is 4 am the morning or is it still the night? Anyway, that's improving. But, while I was there, I got my bloodwork done, because back in January, there was a slight concern about my cholesteral level (have I mentioned that my top three favorite foods are BACON, CHEESE and BACON, EGG and CHEESE sandwhiches?). It was "moderately high" the last time.

Um, this time: high. Damn. And the scale isn't lying, either, and I realize that one: I'm overweight, and two: I've got high cholesteral. Crap. I'm a heart attack waiting to happen (see? get the ONJ reference?). To top it all off, the day my test results come back, the gym calls with a free fitness assessment. So, I'm not one to ignore the coincidence. I get it done, and yep--I'm in the "very poor" column for body fat, and the BMI, well, let's just say, it ain't good, either.

Oh boy. Well--the sweet young ex-marine fitness trainer says he can get me to a size six again. We'll see. And, I'm working on changing my eating habits. More yogurt and veggies and less, sob, bacon and cheese. Oh boy. I'm doing all the right things...I'm now one of those old farts that the cholestral advertisments are targeted to. blech.

Whatever. We're off to Goat Rocks for another camping excursion--me, my fat ass, the dogs and Mel. Should be fun. I'm eating bacon when I camp, damn it. I just am.

Oh, and incidentally--it's offically over a month since I quit smoking.