catheroominations

I’m confused. But with math, I frequently am. You see, Matte and I were recently in Costco looking for healthy alternatives, and we came upon these frozen Kirkland ground sirloin burgers that are only 15% fat. Awesome!

Of course we grabbed a bag, and I immediately turned it over to check the nutritional info. And am I glad I did!

(Insert cartoonized version of me shaking my head violently, with aoiy-aoiy-aoiy soundtrack) WHAT?!? I almost always got Ds in math, maybe a C here and there, but even I know that a 330-calorie item with twenty-three grams of fat does NOT equal 15% fat. It is 60% fat. And with 25% of its calories coming from saturated fat alone, that’s nearly half a person’s daily allowance!

If something sounds too good to be true, it probably is. So when you see a food product boasting low-fattedness, double-check the nutritional info.

And WTF, Costco?

When I left to go to work this morning, my kitchen looked like this:

When I came home from work, it looked like this:

I hate it.

See in the “before” photo how there are some nice, wide drawers to the right of the stove? Well, since they moved the stove to the right, I lost those drawers. I did gain a cookie sheet cabinet, but, uhm, where should I put my nice, large flatware tray now? The awesome one that holds every single piece of flatware we have? Maybe on top of the counter. Yeah. Or I could put the forks in the top drawer, the knives below that and the spoons in the second to the bottom drawer. Oh, and where shall I put my multiple sets of Ikea-made Rubbermaid/Tupperware wannabes? I guess I’ll leave them out on the counter too because they will no longer fit in the bottom drawer. Oh, and my cutting boards, and placemats need a new home too. Maybe those can sit on top of the litterbox. It’s the right size.

Also, in the before photo, we kept our drinking glasses and pilsners to the right of the microwave and our mugs (many, many mugs) to the left. Now? Well, we shall jam all of them into one small space. And the weight of all that glass and plaster shall bring the cabinet toppling down on top of me one Sunday morning when I make my Earl Grey tea. So awesome.

These ADA improvements they made today are idiotic. OK. The changes were necessary, not idiotic. But why not wait until we vacate the apartment? We do not require ADA upgrades. We are fine with things as they are. Wouldn’t it be easier to do this work in empty apartments? So as to not disrupt the tenants? And not force me to store my silverware in my underwear drawer? I’m just saying.

Our stuff fits used to fit fine in the kitchen. Now we have this kitchen where my stuff doesn’t fit, along with new toilets (in the bathroom, not the kitchen, duh) that make my butt feel huge. We used to have these oblong-ish shaped ones that were quite comfy, but they replaced the one in my bathroom with a smaller, round-seated one for someone with 24-inch hips. Seriously. It’s a Barbie toilet. Although, my feet do reach the floor when I sit now, so that’s nice. Except the seat is so low, I need one of those grabber things to reach the toilet paper.

Must they disrupt our living space like this when we are still living in it? Really?

I used to whine about the lack of counter space in our kitchen. Now I can whine about the lack of drawer and cabinet space too! Oh, and my fat butt.

We need a house. That’s all there is too it. A house with vast counter space, caverns of storage, and toilets with seats as big as swimming pools. So I can feel like my butt is small.

Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go stare at my nice cookie sheet storage now and play with my 12 butter knives.

Look what I did on the way to work:

I’m fine, aside from a few aches and pains in my neck and back. My car, as you can see, is not fine, and I will not have it for about 3 weeks.

Until today I’d never caused an accident. I looked down for a minute, while I was in stop and go traffic, and traffic came to a STOP while I was still in GO mode. Unlike most days, I was not drinking hot coffee at the time. I was also not talking on the phone, putting on makeup, eating, texting, or adjusting the radio. I was looking at the dashboard. Or something. I don’t even know what caught my attention and took it from the road, but when I saw how close the monstrous SUV was, I slammed on the brakes and watched my hood crinkle up toward me. And then I said fuck. Which was probably louder than the crash.

The girl I hit was very nice and had the cutest red patent leather Mary Janes I have ever seen. I wanted to tell her that…”So, I’m not going to apologize for hitting you because that’s the last thing I’m supposed to do, but I will say that your shoes are adorable. Please don’t sue me or anything, K?” Seriously though, there were just a few scrapes on her bumper. Thank goodness.

We did all our official business, filed a police report, got a tow to the body shop, and now my car is waiting for a full tear-down to see if it can be fixed. If it can’t be fixed, I’m getting an SUV, dammit.

This morning, while piddling about the apartment, procrastinating getting ready for work, I noticed something on the patio. It was a power cable for a laptop. And it was plugged in to the power outlet. Now, this isn’t a terribly extraordinary find, say, in August, when Matte likes to work outside, but it’s been around 40 degrees here lately, and unless Matte has Eskimo tendencies I’m not aware of, it’s too cold for him to spend any length of time writing code on the patio. Also, this power cable was for an HP and we are a Dell/Apple family.

This can mean only one thing. Well, two things. 1) someone who is not us was using our power, and 2) someone who is not us was on our patio. Our property. Where we live, sitting on our patio furniture.

Granted, they were not in our apartment, but still. It creeps me out. They have intruded on our space. Invaded our haven. I want to call Grissom to come and run a fingerprint check on the frozen cable. Ooh, better yet: Warrick. Yeah. And I would bake him cookies and just stare at his face, because those eyes. (THUD) He’s like over a foot taller than I am, so I’d have to stand on one of the violated Ikea chairs in order to be hypnotized by his eyes, and said chair would probably fold within itself under my weight and I’d come crashing to the concrete. But he would save me, catching me in his big, strong arms. Oh, and what if he needed to make sure i wasn’t trying to frame someone? That I created the crime scene? He might need my DNA. I’d be more than happy to open wide for Warrick Brown. So he could swab my cheek, I mean. And then, when he realized I had no part in creating this scene, he’d feel terrible for doubting my innocence. So we would make out.*

Uhm…so yeah. Where was I?

Oh. Yeah. SOMEONE WAS ON OUR PATIO STEALING OUR ELECTRICITY! Do not step one foot on our (rented) property without an invitation. Our abode is not your Internet cafe. There is a Starbucks just down the street, in any direction you look. Oh, and guess what, Mr. Space Invader! I took your cable from the patio, so now you are powerless. Literally. How do you like that, Assface?

*In a purely hypothetical world, of course. Love ya, Matte!

Because then maybe I’d be given one of these fabulous outfits on her Favorite Things episode.

Seriously. Are they not fugly? Who would look good in one of these? I would look like a 3 ft 8 inch-tall mushroom, I think. Or a sausage.

Oh, RATS! The Department of Health has closed down Serendipity 3 for multiple vomitrocious health code violations. The inspector found mouse droppings, fly infestations, bad sewage, and more than 100 live cockroaches. Maybe Serendipity should have invested more in pest control and less on the gold and diamond bracelet that graces the base of the golden-lined goblet containing 28 different kinds of cocoa in their $25,000 Frrozen Haute Chocolate.

Maybe they should also give me that bracelet since they no longer need it.

I went to Serendipity a couple of years ago. People pack the sidewalk outside the restaurant, waiting for a table. We were there for their famous Frrrozen Hot Chocolate, but when we saw they offered a foot-long hot dog, well, I had to get one of those too. And my friends and I giggled about it. Because it was a full 12 inches. And it was a hot dog. And we are mature.

Sucks. I hate it.

Why must I deal with someone in India to stop my MajorSuckage Word from crashing EVERY SINGLE TIME I START IT? (And by the way, NO, I do NOT want to start in Safe Mode, thankyouverymuch! I want it to work like it did just the other day! Is it that time of the month, MS Word? Why do you have to be a dick?)

We have two perfectly good IT guys on campus. Why can’t one of them take care of it? They’re RIGHT HERE!

The overseas guys get SO irritated when they call me at 6:30 am to resolve my issue and I am not at my desk. Seriously, they SCOLD me if I do not answer the phone. I get messages like “Hi, I’m trying to help you with your issue, but I cannot seem to reach you. I have tried your office phone and your cell phone, but you do not answer my call. Please be available so I can help you because if you are not going to answer my calls, I cannot troubleshoot this for you.” Uhm. How about calling after I wake the hell up at least? Or maybe during business hours, dude? Like the 8 to 5 kind? Maybe you want to check this site to see just what time it is here when you call me.

Just a suggestion.

Asshat.