Jun
22
June 22, 2006
My cell phone, which I got shortly after September 11th in the fear that I would be trapped in a building/plane somewhere and be minutes from my own death with no means for which to communicate my last thoughts to JB (“Press play to hear your first message.” “OH SHIT!” “Press 7 to delete this message.”), has a battery that over time has dwindled down to five or so minutes of life after each recharge. The only way it really works is if it is plugged into the car charger, which is useful for calls made while driving, but since I can barely chew gum and walk a straight line without tumbling headfirst down a manhole, I don’t like using my phone in the car. I’m convinced the moment I turn my gaze to the keypad, a school bus full of blind children will hit the brakes in front of me and in my distraction I’ll plow into them at 65 MPH and totally cripple all their helper dogs.
I don’t like using cell phones at all, really. Well, to be honest, it’s more that I don’t like you using your cell phone. Because clearly you are far more important and popular than I am, and that makes me feel insignificant and lame, and also I don’t want to hear how Bob needs to file those TPS reports or honey can you pick up some coffee creamer or oh my GOD did you SEE Trish’s OUTFIT.
I especially hate those Bluetooth wireless thingies that hook over one ear, so from most angles it looks like someone is just shouting into the air in front of them. Project manager or delusional transient? Choose Your Own Adventure!
Anyway, I decided I needed to update my phone because I wanted a reliable means of communication in case of a Riley-related emergency. JB showed me a bunch of options from the Cingular website and I picked one that looked fairly simple, like even a cellular Luddite like me could use it.
So now I own a black Motorola RAZR. It is very sleek and sexy and apparently does all kinds of crazy things like take photos and video and instant message and maybe also prepare a nice butternut squash soup; I don’t actually know for sure because right now all it does is display “UNREGISTERED SIM”.
Eventually I suppose I’ll get the phone figured out, or maybe I’ll just use it to throw at people when I want to get their attention instead of calling them (“Hey! Get some fucking coffee creamer!”).
Let’s be honest, though: what I’ll really use this thing for is taking even MORE pictures of Riley. Lord knows I wouldn’t want a single solitary moment of his life to pass by without photographic evidence.
HEY DID SOMEBODY SAY BABY PHOTOS?
There is a major monkeys-grooming-each-other vibe going on here. That’s all I’m saying.
Ha! Check out those eyebrows. Can’t you just see him in a couple years looking at me all like “God, Mom, you can’t even use a cellphone? LAME.”
Jun
20
June 20, 2006
To recap our 5-day stint at Bellevue’s charming Extended Stay Hotel, let us embrace my friend the bullet point:
• Number of blankets encrusted with human filth provided by hotel: 1
• Dollars charged for the “service” of having disgusting blanket removed and a non-crunchy blanket supplied, plus new towels: 10
• Number of towels provided by hotel after this “service” was performed: 0
• Resemblance of hotel clerk to ubiquitous Simpsons wage-slave: uncanny, down to the voice break (“I’ve gotta ask my manager, ma’am”)
• Number of times Riley bumped his head into various metal furniture trying to navigate the .001″ of floor space: several hundred
• Parts per million of contamination likely crawling on floor space: I don’t want to know I don’t want to know I don’t want to know
In summary:
We moved to a Silver Cloud Inn on Saturday, which in retrospect we should have done immediately after noticing our Extended Stay blanket had last been washed in 1987. The Silver Cloud offered a full suite with kitchenette, soft towels, two (!) televisions with HBO, a wide expanse of sparkling clean carpet for Riley to practice crawling on (he’s at this stage where he gets on his hands and knees and rocks back and forth, it is both weird and cute), and bed linens thankfully devoid of stains or pubic hairs.
(Much, much better.)
If you are visiting Bellevue and looking for a place to stay, and you’ve ruled out my house due to the spiders and rats and slimy-nosed Labs and all, I highly recommend the Silver Cloud Inn. If you are with a well-known NBC evening news show looking to do an exposé on hotels that charge $90 per night yet apparently do not employ actual cleaning personnel, I’d like to point you to the Extended Stay. Enter at your own risk, though.
All in all, we spent a full week away from the house while the flooring people worked and various things went wrong. First there was a horrific amount of staining revealed when the carpets were pulled up, probably from some kind of deadly mold that slithered over from the Extended Stay back in 1987, during that big blanket washing event. Boards had to be replaced, and instead of the “Natural” finish, we chose a stain to help cover up the damage. Everything took longer than expected, so instead of coming back on Thursday as we had planned, we did the majority of our move-in yesterday afternoon. And let me tell you, the only thing that’s even more awesome than moving every single piece of furniture out of the house is moving it back IN, with the added benefit of applying little felt doohickeys on the bottom of everything beforehand.
(BEFORE)
(AFTER) (Notice they managed to remove that nasty cat-shaped stain!)
The house looks great, except for one remaining problem: certain areas of the floor are now shiny – as if the floor is still wet, but it’s not. The contractors have scratched their heads and called manufacturers and no one can exactly figure out the Shiny Floor Issue, but they’re going to try and fix it today with an “alcohol wash” which probably means they’re going to sit around and have a beer while they count the piles of money we now owe them.
Hey, have I mentioned lately how tired of the remodel I am? Good thing we now have to replace all the baseboard trim in our entire house in addition to the remainder of the work in the bathroom, because we wouldn’t want the end to be in sight, or anything.
Random factoids about having your floors refinished:
• The sanding process will leave behind a thick layer of wood-dust on every object in your house and when you turn the blinds in your infant son’s room to darken it so he can sleep, you will dump a pile of dust directly onto his sweet, trusting face
• The same dust will make it painfully apparent you’ve been living with kind of, um, a SHITLOAD of cobwebs
• The clothes you left in the closet will forever smell of solvent, as though you got dressed and doused yourself head to toe with OFF! mosquito spray
• “Swedish finish” sounds totally pornerrific
In final news, an excited dog + hardwood floors = COMEDY GOLD.
-
My product review site:
[