adventures in amy-land

Again I find myself feeling like I need to apologize for not keeping up. I am amazed at bloggers who are able to do this daily, I get so caught up in my life I forget to blog about it….

So I last left off with the craigslist roommate search, and no, I never found a “normal” roommate. I was instant messaging a friend of mine about the slug visitations and she mentioned that I might have a mold problem. She told me that slugs actually ate mold and that I might want to look into it. I sent my landlord an e-mail basically expressing my frustration with some of the various problems with the house for the umteenth time, the infamous leak in the kitchen under the sink being one of them, and stated that I was concerned there could be a mold problem.

*Poof!!!* Suddenly, we have action. You mention mold and even the slummiest slum lords have a tendency to respond!!! They offered to send a maintenance company “to take care of any mold problem there might be, the defective light fixture in the kitchen, the stovetop burners that don’t work, etc….” and he finally got a pest control company to take care of the slugs.

I want to back track for a moment on the lighting issue. I had complained about all of these problems, and others many times before. I was getting ready to go out with a friend for her birthday and my 187 year old landlord (okay he was in his mid-80s, still….) shows up completely unannounced (last time I checked the law and my lease stated that I was owed at least a 24 hour notice) to fix the light. He had no step ladder, went in the garage and took a wicker (WICKER!!!!!) laundry basket of mine, without asking and stood on it!!!!!!  I don’t know if I was more afraid of him breaking his hip or my basket. Anyway, I got him a chair instead. Then I had to leave and he acted inconvenienced!!! Uhhhhhh sorry I have a little bit of a life, but you never informed me you were coming a-hole!!!

Okay so putting my little rant aside, I got home late, and the next morning walked into my kitchen. The light fixture was hanging an inch and a half off the ceiling rather than being mounted flush, and the landlord took a bunch of packing peanuts out of a box I had on the floor and stuffed them in the space between the ceiling and the top of the fixture!!!! Fire hazard anyone????

So…this was kind of what spurred me cyber-yelling at my other landlord (the older guy’s son) about their inadequacies when it came to taking care of problems that were their responsibility. Because they moved so fast when I mentioned mold, I wondered if it was’t something they actually knew about already and failed to disclose (which is also very illegal), so I took hiring an independent mold inspector upon myself.

As it turned out, the house was full of toxic mold, the entire back wall of the kitchen was covered in it, all you had to do was take some of the drawers out, and the walls were covered in black mold. It was in the garage, it was in both bathrooms, and according to the mold inspector, it was very possibly in the walls of the master bedroom because the shower pan was “dead”. Hmmmmmm…..no wonder I had a headache that never went away the entire time I lived there (I am out now by the way). I sent a certified letter with a copy of the mold inspection demanding that I be released from the lease immediately. I got a call the next day saying “Gee, we wish you would have given us a chance to negotiate this. Would you be willing to stay for reduced rent?”. WHAT???!!!!!! Are you SERIOUS????!!!! Obviously I told him “Uh no, it’s a health concern, and I am not interested in exposing myself to something that could make me deathly ill”.

Sooooo, after another two months of searching for a place that I could afford and have my dog and cat at, I finally moved in the beginning of October. No more mold hole!!!! My pets are happy, I’m happy, I don’t need roommates and I can see the ocean from my back balcony!!!! My neighbors also have a beautiful garden with a butterfly bush right outside my kitchen window, and the butterflies were here through the end of October .  So for the most part we are pretty close to being up to date….

Sorry it took me so long and I am sure there will be many more stories to come….

As always,

Make Good Memories!!!!

So this is more of an observation rather than a specific experience in Orange County.  Many of you might be familiar with Urbandictionary.com and it’s humorous slang related terms. Since moving to Orange County, California and working especially in the Newport Beach area, I have come up with one of my own:

Human Koi:

Pronunciation[hyoo-muhn or, often, yoo‑] kɔɪ Pronunciation Key [koi]  noun. Any of various races and/or nationalities of women, apparently residing in large groups in Southern California, although they have been seen all over the world.  Identifying characteristics often include (but are not limited to): fake suntans that often make them appear slightly orange in color, eyes that are located closer to the sides of their heads (due to copious amounts of facelifts) than on the average woman, grotesquely protruded lips resulting from too many lip injections and implants, and they often look surprised due to the injections of botulism (Botox).

Examples:

“Man! Did you see that human koi at Javier’s [a restaurant they can be found at in Orange County]?!! She must have had about half a million in plastic surgery!!”

Or

“Check out the rock on that koi!!! If she’s not careful she might sink!”

And my personal favorite:

“Who needs carnies when you have human koi?”

That’s all I’ve got time for right now, but I thought it was amusing and felt like it needed to be shared.

So I have to apologize for not keeping up with my tale o’ Californ-IA, unfortunately life often gets in the way.

Back to searching for a roommate (since eloping in Tijuana with a complete stranger didn’t appeal to me)…  I got in touch with a guy named Toby. He sounded “normal”, was involved in the sub-prime mortgage market and lost everything like an unbelievable amount of people out here. He even mentioned that Stone Temple Pilots were playing the next weekend and said something about me going to the show with him and a group of friends……and yes red flags did go up, but I said maybe some other time and he didn’t sound bothered by it. We made arrangements for him to come by and check out the house the next day.  He called when he was supposed to be by the house and said he got stuck down the road from me helping some friends pack up their RV for a trip they were taking and asked if coming by an hour later would be a problem, and I told him that would be fine. He shows up around 7ish, I showed him the place, and things seemed to be going well.  Then he got a phone call, asked if he could excuse himself for a minute, and said he was going to stop by the grocery store down the road and come back. Ummmmmmm……okay???

An hour and a half passes and I hear a knock at the door. There stands Toby with a 12 pack of Bud Light and a big bag of Jack In The Box. Again…ummmmmmm????? He walks in, sits down on the sofa, hands me a beer, a couple of tacos and a salad, and gets the same for himself. So I guess we’re supposed to hang out?? I decide “what the hell, it’s a good way to get to know the guy a little better and see if he’s someone I might want to live with”.  I joke and say “Wow. I don’t think I have ever eaten Jack In The Box sober” and he responds “Well we can take care of that.”  Rut Roh! I find myself thinking, is this guy a total alcoholic? So Toby starts telling me his “story”…….

Toby owned his own mortgage company called “First Colony” and had a staff of 50. He was in the subprime lenders market and like many, made “millions” and then lost it all when the market crashed. I make a comment about how I thought it sucked that so many mortgage brokers actually allowed people to get into a mortgage that they knew the borrower couldn’t afford. He admits he did that, but he figured (and I quote) “I figured if I didn’t get that five grand, someone else would”. Wow! Seriously? You were actually okay with knowing you could be destroying someone’s credit and future for five thousand dollars. He goes on to complain about employees and how much time they wasted on the internet, because, well destroying someone’s future for your own benefit is okay as long as you have a good work ethic???? He tells me he is currently in the business of helping people who were going into bankruptcy and foreclosures consolidate their debt. So first you profited on putting them in this position and now you’re trying to make money off of them again??? Holy shit!!!! You’ve got to be kidding me!!!! Then he goes on to tell me that he has decided the nonprofits sector is “where it’s at”. This is where he’s going to make his millions. I admit that yes there is good money in the higher levels of nonprofit organizations, but you have to be pretty high up in the Red Cross to make six figures. Non profit after all, only means that you’re not allowed to show a profit. He begins to tell me how he has a friend who has her solicitation license and has told him it was okay for him to use her license number if anyone ever questioned him. He explains he is going to be soliciting for The Make a Wish Foundation. He’s getting excited about all the things people might be willing to donate even if they can’t donate cash. Cars, furniture, etc…. I’m thinking, ‘well yeah people do donate old cars and what not to various organizations that can be repaired and given to women who are in safe houses and on welfare trying to find work, but I have never heard of that as a common donation for The Make A Wish Foundation”. Around the time he points at my dog and says “I bet we could even get people and pet store owners to donate dog toys and food!” I realize Oh my God! This guy has no intention of giving any of the ‘donations’ to The Make A Wish Foundation!!!!! He plans on getting rich by keeping the stuff for himself. But he’s willing to share with me and my dog. Fantastic.
So Toby has all but said “Hey my name’s Toby, I knowingly screwed a bunch of people in the subprime lending market, and then profited off of their loss again by promising to relieve them of their debt (I late found out this is a popular scam out here), and now I want to steal from terminally ill children”.  Great guy, huh?

At this point it’s about 10:30 at night, I start yawning and saying “hey it was nice hanging out and talking to you, but I have to get up for work at 5:30 tomorrow morning and it’s past my bedtime”. He says “Oh. Oh yeah well I have to get up at 5:45 too”

For what? To plan how you are going to take money from dying kids you asshole?

Then he asks if he can go get his air mattress out of his SUV and “set up camp” in the spare bedroom!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

“Uhhhhh so what, are you just couch surfing these days?” I ask

He says he has a place in Costa Mesa, but “it’s not an ideal set up”.

Why do the people you live with have a terminally ill child that constantly reminds you what a piece of scum you are??!!!

Instead I say, “I’m sorry I’d rather you not crash here. I just met you. I don’t know you (and don’t like or trust you, I bet I would wake up and my entire living room would be missing) so I’m just not comfortable with that”.

He says “Uh oh yeah I guess we should both take a day or two to decide if this would work out”.

Oh no sweet cheeks, I’ve already determined it won’t. If you have no moral dilemma with stealing from a kid who has a week to live, I have a serious problem associating with you, not to mention sharing a house with you!!!

But I say, “Yeah I think so, have a good night”.

He drives off. I make sure doors are locked. I am sooooo happy that I have a large rottweiler living with me, and I try to go to sleep. I panic when I realize I told this guy I take my dog to work with me every day, because I basically said “Hey I’m not home and there’s no dog in the house, so why don’t you come on by and steal my TV, stereo, furniture, art work, jewelry, whatever you want.” I get up and google First Colony to see if there are any articles on his company and the only company with that name is a real estate company in Utah!!  This is where I find several archived articles describing these new companies claiming that they will pay off your defaulted mortgages for $500-1000.00 and what a scam they are. Wow! This guy was lower than scum. What a bottom feeder!!!

Needless to say after that, a few more people came by to look at the house, no one too frightening, but I eventually decided that I didn’t want any roommates considering the weirdoes that were hanging out on Craig’s List…..

Stay tuned for an update on those killer slugs I told you about earlier (no they never left).

On Saturday, Don had said he would stop by my place around 10:30 to pick me up and head into Hollywood. I started getting ready around 9 or 9:30. At 11 I called him because I hadn’t heard from him, and was wondering if he was going to cancel again. He said he’d be over in 30 minutes, so I waited. He also told me he was having problems with his truck, and asked if I would drive. Plus my little Jetta gets better gas mileage. I agreed, I wasn’t planning on drinking because that always seems to be a good way to get yourself in a bad situation in a new place with people you don’t know. I called my brother to let him know where I was going, just in case.

Now the only “problem” with me driving, is my car stereo is on the fritz. It does this fantastic thing were it will play for five minutes and then just stop. No sound from any of the outputs. This incidentally makes me insane driving to work every morning as I try to listen to NPR’s “Morning Edition” . Unfortunately the car stereo place (part of my former employer’s business) I got it installed at wasn’t able to find anything wrong when I took it in, is in Colorado and has gone out of business. Anyway, maybe it’s a good thing because as Don pointed out, “I think you and I are probably opposites when it comes to music.” How right he was, I listen to everything from The Dead Kennedys to Miles Davis . The only music I don’t like is hip hop, rap and country (when you grow up 20 miles from a town called Rifle, who’s fanciest hotel is called The Winchester it’s easy to understand why I don’t like country. Johnny Cash and Willie Nelson being exceptions to the rule). As a matter of fact, my reaction to hip-hop, rap and country is probably akin to what a cat would do if you tried to throw him in a full bathtub.

On the ride up we talked. Apparently his dad was in the military so he did some traveling growing up. I told him about going to college just outside of Portland, Oregon at Pacific University , living in the UK for a year, Mexico, Spain and San Francisco (it’s pretty safe to say I have a hard time staying in one place for too long). He went on to tell me how much he loved London and the women there in particular. He loved seeing white women with curves, and talked about how skinny they are in California, and how unattractive that was. Okay, well…..uh…good to know, so that was what you loved about London huh? Not the Westminster Abbey, Tower of London, Big Ben, Parliament, Camden Town, the people, the Tube, the pubs or even Madam Tussuad’s crazy wax museum? Super! As Big Gay Al from South Park says…..

He goes on to talk about how much better England is than the U.S., and I decide to interject because, although I can’t stand our government right now, and our economy is bad, I still think we have in theory one of the best forms of government in the world. Also, after living overseas, I realized just how fortunate we are. When I was living in Wales, I made a very good friend from Belfast, and he asked me one time about the KKK, and if their organization was illegal and if not, why? It took a minute for me to answer, and all I could say is that according to our constitution, the government can’t not allow organizations and groups of people to meet or exist. If we made the KKK illegal, then different political and religious groups might also be threatened. I explained that what the KKK does isn’t legal, or even remotely right according to most people’s standards, but they still have the right to exist and hold their own opinions and beliefs (no matter how twisted they might be). I also found in some of the discussions my friend and I had, that religion and politics we only discussed behind closed doors, and if say a Hare Krishna decided they wanted to preach their religious beliefs on the street corner, they would be arrested. In the time I spent in the UK I realized how great it was to have our Bill of Rights, and that our government wasn’t as bad as I thought, and our country wasn’t either. This doesn’t mean we should say “America is the best country on earth and our government is the best government in the world” because it’s simply not true, and I think we should look at other cultures and governments to see if there’s anything we could do to better our own culture and government.

I also went on to say that one of the things we could learn from every other culture is how to lead less stressful lives. “Look at countries like France, they have all of these fatty foods and heavy cream sauces, but they’re not the most obese country on the planet, we are. Maybe if we spent more time having a good meal, and not eating such large portions, and slowing down to enjoy life once in a while, we might not have the biggest heart attack rate in the world,” I said. He then cuts in to say something about how it’s not the food; different people have different nutritional needs and body types, and starts talking about exercise and diet. Okay…yes, but did you listen to a word of what I just said? Are we even having the same conversation, because that wasn’t even remotely close to my point!!  Are you kidding me?

And so each and every conversation we attempted to have, went.   I think I just gave up after a while and let him talk. Whatever dude. Needless to say it was a kind of painful hour driving into LA.

We arrived at the Rainbow , apparently nothing were going on Saturday either, and cruised up to the V.I.P. section. No need to get excited, it wasn’t anything special. The music was good, 80s hair metal, some Guns N Roses , AC/DC , Pat Benatar , you know…the good stuff! Don kept telling me to “go get my boogie on” which I thought was weird. I had no desire to go out on the dance floor so I just left it to “I am way too white and too sober to do that.” Anyway, we hung out and I watched a bunch of kids who had mullets and probably aren’t even old enough to realize that they weren’t that cool the first time around. Actually they probably weren’t old enough to remember mullets when they were in style the first time around. Pretty entertaining actually! There was the woman (older) who was way to drunk to walk on her own, making out with a guy that looked like he never got over the 80s and was probably in a metal band with his long curly mane of hair (think Cinderella ), the AC/DC guy, you know the one I mean and a little version of Stevie Nicks (80s style not 70s). They gave last call at 2 and we went to get my car from the valet and watch the crowd outside. I saw a whole brigade of interesting people hanging out in the front, including a girl on Lord knows what kind of drugs climbing the pole in front of the Roxy and treating her pants (sweat pants or something stretchy) like makeshift wings, she kind of looked like a really messed up mutant flying squirrel. Oh yeah, she was arrested. Shocker.

So finally, the drive home, just what you have all been waiting for! First Don wanted to stop by In N Out , and then we finally got back on the Freeway around 2:30-2:45 in the morning. So we started talking on the way home, about what I can’t recall until he started in with the “I don’t understand why you don’t have a boyfriend!” Uhhhhh, I just moved here…

In addition, apart from being in Colorado for five years before moving, I had never stayed in the same place for longer than a year or two, which makes it hard to have a relationship. It just wasn’t a huge priority for me, and the pickins were slim in the little town in Colorado I lived in. Actually no, scratch that, the pickings were anorexic, think Olsen twins. He goes on to ask if I get lonely coming home to an empty house (this is where the eye rolling starts), and I state that’s why I have a dog and a cat. I don’t have time for a boyfriend between work, going back to school, pets, etc…

Blah Blah BLAH!!! Seriously every excuse I came up with, do you think he listened? No of course not! I mean if my opinions on the way to Hollywood didn’t matter then why would they now? He goes on to tell me he used to date Adina Howard before she got married. Riiight of course you did. Then he lets it go for a while and talks about his music career and how he has some famous song on some soundtrack, etcetera. At this point I’m just thinking “Okay Amy, only 30 minutes or so of listing to this crap, be patient and be nice.” Then the idiot tells me that he “likes my hips” seriously? and guesses my clothing size dead on. Weird, I couldn’t do that. So at this point, I’m thinking I can’t get home soon enough, and “shit this guy knows where I live”, and “wow didn’t see that coming!” I didn’t really respond one way or the other. After a while he grabs my hand and says, “Hey baby, let’s you and I buy an island, we can hang out naked all day and no one will see us but the people with the satellites,” and I laugh and laugh and laugh, probably harder than I needed to. His response is “If that didn’t sound like a pimp, I don’t know what does.”  So I’m hoping he was joking (weird way to joke, but still…) and I keep laughing. Then he acts hurt that I’m laughing and says “Just because it’s corny doesn’t mean it’s not heart felt.”

What????????????????!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

(Silence)

Change of Subject

About ten minutes before getting home, he grabs my hand again (I didn’t let him hold my hand mind you, either time) and says “Let’s you and I just keep on driving, we can go to Mexico and get married, and not tell anyone until we get back.”

Uhhhhhh…Did he just freaking PROPOSE TO ME???????????????!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!  He DID!!!!! What the ??? is WRONG WITH THIS GUY.

As a side note, guys, please don’t ever do this, it’s really not a good way to get a date, unless you want a desperate and psychotic woman with some serious mental problems. If that’s what you’re looking for, hey be my guest….

So at this point, I’m trying to not come to a screeching halt and make the bastard get out and walk home. I didn’t need someone angry and yelling at me in front of my house and I figured continuing driving was better anyway, unless the guy had a death wish he wasn’t going to do anything else.

So I get home, pull in the driveway; make him get out of the car before pulling into the garage, and say GOODBYE!

Don has called a few times since, the calls have trickled down, but I save his number in my phone under “Demented Don-The marrying guy”, just so I know not to answer my phone.  I did answer one time because I couldn’t see who was calling (I was driving and had my headset in) and got the “When are you going to let me take you out to dinner?” and “I don’t know what it is, but there’s just something about you,” (It’s the booty remember? That’s all it is buddy, forget about it) and my response?

“I was looking for a roommate, not a boyfriend.”

And that my friends, is the last time I spoke to Demented Don. I have met some odd people in my life, but been proposed to after knowing someone for less than a week?? That’s a first, and hopefully a last.  I have one more great roommate story for you all, just to reinforce my decision to not have a roommate.

Make Good Memories!

Amy

Continuing my move-in/first month in California saga…..

After about three weeks of being in California, I was finally able to meet up with a friend/acquaintance I have known for a few years through the industry I work in. He is an individual I have a great amount of professional respect for, I appreciate his work ethic, ambition, and found on our evening out that I am absolutely intrigued to know more. The way he views the world is different from anyone I have ever met, and refreshing at that. We had an amazing meal on the pier in San Clemente at a restaurant called Fisherman’s, and some of the most stimulating conversation I’ve had in a long time. Four to five hours felt like an hour, and hopefully we will be able to meet up again sometime soon (due to work obligations and geography, it’s not always easy to find a convenient time).

I am starting out with this to share some of the great things that have happened since I’ve moved to California and to prove there are reasonably normal people out here before I start in on the next chapter…..

Searching for a roommate on Craigslist (this is where, if my life were a movie, the duh-na-na-na-na-nuh music begins and rises to its crescendo toward the end of the story, (which will probably have to be a two part blog, believe me it’s worth it)).

So after a few weeks getting settled, I placed a roommate wanted ad on Craigslist. It basically consisted of “I’m a 32 year old female, new to the area, great house, garage, yard, etc….

I got a few bites, one of the first ones was a guy named Don, he said he was a computer analyst, originally from Oceanside, didn’t know many people in the area either, and all the people he knew were in Irvine, L.A. and San Diego, he doesn’t drink, smoke, etc…

Sounds good, right? So we set up a time to meet and for him to view the house. When I opened the door I’m sure my eyes popped out of my head because an 8′7″ black guy was standing there (actually he later told me he was really 6′5″ or 6′6″, but me being a whopping 5′2″, white chick form Colorado, let’s just say anything over 6′1″ is Mount Rushmore to me). I have a cousin who’s 6′7″ and every time I see him I can’t believe how frigid tall he is. Anyway, Don came in checked out the place, my dog loved him, and we chatted for a while about his job, how he’s trying to start his own clothing line, and that he spends a lot of time on the computer working with graphics, went to college in San Diego, and had lost his house in the subprime crash, and was now thinking about maybe doing the roommate thing to save some cash so he could look at buying a house in a year or so.

Great! I was planning on waiting a year or so before looking at buying out here too. I told him about the company I work for and what we do, my family’s business that started out as the only music store in a small town in Colorado in the mid 80s and how it mutated over the years into an electronics retail and custom a/v business. He then went on to tell me that his uncles managed the Whiskey, The Roxy, The Rainbow Room and They Key Club on Sunset in L.A. (in retrospect I am wondering how they ran all four of these places, but I suppose it’s possible). He told me he goes up to Hollywood just about every weekend and since I was new and had never been to Hollywood, he invited me to go along the following weekend. At the time, I wasn’t sure if I actually would, just because going to L.A. with a guy I didn’t know by myself seemed like a potentially risky situation. He took an application and left, and I thought he seemed like he would be a good roommate. Toward the end of the week, I called him to see if he had the application completed, and said that I was maybe interested in checking out Hollywood if the offer was still open. My reasoning was, he seemed like a nice guy, had a good job, educated, my dog loved him and I didn’t get any scuzzy-guy vibe from him, and it would be a good way to get to know the guy a little better if he was going to be living with me. We made plans for Friday, and he said he’d pick me up between 10 and 10:30 since nothing really started happening until 11 or so anyway.

So I got ready for my “big night” out on the town, Around 10, I got a call from Don stating that nothing was going on until Saturday night (no good shows or anything), and could we put it off until then. GRRRRRRRRRR! A call an hour or so earlier would have been nice. He asked if I wanted to hang out and play Rock Band (yes folks, I actually broke down and bought a PS3!!!!!!! I have not been a fan of video games since I was 12 or 13, but I finally got my first “You Rock” playing Guitar Hero at a friends’ house–after being booed offstage many times–and I was hooked. Sure I might be able to rock a retirement home, but hey, I’ll take what I can get). I said yes, because I hadn’t “rocked” since I moved and figured it sounded like fun. We had some serious Rock Band parties and I was missing playing with the Babbling War Bears (this is the name the game chose for our band).

Actually I know I am digressing, but is anyone else reading addicted to this game or Guitar Hero? Seriously it’s so much fun but I can’t believe what a geek I feel like. The first weekend I got it, I think I sat in front of the damn TV until 5 am drinking a whole bottle of wine and “rocking”. And I’m sure after the second or third glass of wine I was doing anything but rocking! I had to leave the guitar and pick up the microphone due to loss of eye hand coordination, which I am challenged with in general. And I heard that recently Motley Crue released a new album that is only available on either Rock Band or Guitar Hero!!!! No iTunes, Amazon.com or your local record store. It’s a new phenomenon folks, and I gotta admit I am part of the craze.

Don came over and we played Rock Band for maybe 45 minutes before I got tired and figured it was time for him to leave and me to get some z’s.

With that, I will leave you all hanging for the Hollywood adventure and “Indecent Proposal” part deux. And the next blog is one I promise you won’t want to miss (I had a stand up comedian, another potential roommate; ask if he could use it in his stand up).

Make Good Memories!

Amy.

So I am briefly jumping ahead to the present and putting the housing and roommate stories aside for the day. As many of you may have heard about on last night or this morning’s news broadcast about the recent earthquake that hit in the greater Los Angeles area. I thought you all might like to hear a little interlude about my first earthquake experience, and my not-so-normal dog’s reaction (or lack thereof).  I spend the majority of my days by myself in an office in Newport Beach.  One of the reasons I moved to Orange County was to help my younger brother run his custom Audi/Video and Home Automation company (I will write more about this one later).  So yesterday morning I am sitting at my desk attempting to make sense of the mess of accounts that I was hired to fix and maintain, and I initially thought a big truck must have driven past the building (it got a good shake) then the walls started moving, I felt like some overgrown child had picked the building up, mistaking it for a Leggo toy and was tilting it back and forth. Literally everything was just wobbly, and it took a few seconds for me to realize “Holy Shit! This is an earthquake” Zues, my not-too-bright but unbelievably cute rottweiler, who usually sleeps on the floor next to my chair, groggily picked his head up, looked a little concerned, I put my hand on his head and he laid back down and rode it out. I hear most dogs freak out during earthquakes, not Zuesy Pants (the chosen nickname from Trav who I have mentioned in previous blogs)!

Anyway, after maybe 15 or 20 seconds passed things seemed to stop rocking. I found myself just kind of sitting there stunned and a little nauseous. I got up to go to the bathroom (I wasn’t real sure of standing while it was happening) and felt like I had sea legs, I was that wobbly, and unsure on my feet. Later I found out that several tremors followed and that’s probably what I was experiencing at the time. And as odd as it may sound, I was a little excited. Yes, excited about an earthquake! Granted I didn’t need to duck and cover and nothing fell off the walls here, but the walls are pretty bare. It was such a surreal experience, and all sense of time was literally suspended. In general we seem to assume the earth is firm and solid, walls are immovable (without a demolition ball), the sun comes up like clock work, etc… There are these certainties that we all don’t even normally think about.  An experience like this literally pulls that rug of certainties out from under you for a few seconds, leaving you stunned, speechless and speaking for myself, with a little adrenaline rush.  For a few seconds you recall that the earth is not a giant rock we all live on, it’s constantly shifting and moving, and in those fifteen seconds, I felt like I was a part of that. At risk of sounding like a hippie, I will say that I really felt in a concrete sense, the earth is alive. I know I sound like a hippie, I am from Colorado, so give me a break. Anyway, it took about two hours or so for me to recover. As it turns out, it wasn’t “major” in that no structural damage was reported, no one was hurt, but a few water mains broke, people reported seeing their office windows bow out (I have no windows in my little den), and it was the biggest earthquake they’ve had in about ten years (5.4), so as far as I’m concerned it was big. We often have earthquakes in Colorado, which may come as a surprise, but look at the Rocky Mountains, there are many fault lines in Colorado. I have been “in” earthquakes in Colorado, but never felt anything, when I lived in San Fransisco, there was a time when a flower vase started quaking on our glass table, I thought it was our upstairs neighbors doing something??? There was a Chinese family of indeterminable number living above us. As it turns out that also was an earthquake, but I never had the sense of major movement beneath my feet and all around me! Seriously, this was kind of a highlight as life experiences go. Yes, earthquakes are scary, as are floods or any natural “disaster”, but they’re also phenomenal and really amazing to be a part of.  I’m actually kind of stoked to have experienced one, I’m glad it wasn’t catastrophic and I realized that I should have some earthquake emergency kits set up at work, home and in my car, not to mention our company vehicles, just in case a serious one does ever hit. Still, I feel fortunate to have experienced one. I know it sounds crazy, but ???? for those of you that know me and have known me for a long time, this won’t come as a surprise. I’m a little quirky. So I just wanted to share that with you, and in closing I want to share a quote from one of my favorite authors, Salman Rushdie. It’s perfect for this kind of situation and one of my favorite quotes, so I hope you all enjoy it as much as I do.

Five mysteries hold the keys to the unseen: the act of love, and the birth of a baby, and the contemplation of great art, and being in the presence of death or disaster, and hearing the human voice lifted in song. These are the occasions when the bolts of the universe fly open and we are given a glimpse of what is hidden.

–Salman Rushdie The Ground Beneath Her Feet

Thanks for reading and as always,

Make Good Memories!

So I want to apologize for the delay in my catch up on the Californ-IA move but the stories keep piling on, we’ll get to that later…

After the dramatic move-in sans electricity and refrigerators, meeting great neighbors, etc…

(The “story” to follow occured a few days after the electricity was turned on).

I was sleeping on my futon in the living room because I left my bed in Colorado, I figured that retiring the old waterbed frame that I got at age 12 was probably a good idea. The mattress was almost as old, maybe 17 years old instead of 20, at 15 I got sick of my cat punching holes in the water mattress and waking up to a slow seeping bed and wet sheets and decided a regular mattress would be a better idea. So, I woke up to a loud crash, my dog, Zeus was asleep at my feet, so I figured it must be my cat. Poseidon had enjoyed many nights waking me up by stretching out on the sliding glass doors and rattling them very loudly, so I assumed he found something else to bang on in the kitchen.  I walked into the kitchen and saw on the floor what appeared to be poo. Great, Poseidon’s mad at me for moving and wants me to know it. (Yes my pets are named after Greek gods, and I have a bit of an obsession, or perhaps I just am able to console myself knowing that the gods answer to me, even if noone else will. I’m sure there’s some kind of psychological explanation for it, but then again what fun would life be if you could explain all your weird fascinations?). I grab a paper towel and groggily begin picking up the presents left on the floor (there were at least 15 of them).  I then walk into the bathroom and turn the light on to drop them down the toilet.

Just before i drop the contents of my paper towel in the bowl two feelers pop out!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! ARRRRRRRRGGGGH!  So, yes, slugs, big HUGE slimy slugs all over my kitchen floor. And, yes in retrospect I realize that would’ve been a lot of poo for a 9lb kitty, no matter how upset he was about moving.

So, no electricity, no refrigerator, and SLUGS! Big slugs, I’m talking at least four inches in length and an inch in diameter. They were so big that I thought they were banana slugs, they might be, but they’re not bright yellow, they’re stomachs are though. Grey and spotty on top and slimey! I am no slug expert, but for those of you that aren’t familiar with banana slugs, I would encourage you to google them. They are the official mascot for UC Santa Cruz, which says a lot about Santa Cruz, and I’m not sure but I wouldn’t place any bets on their track team (or any sport that requires speed or a solid body for that matter..).  The wharf is cheesy and fun in a very retro 80s hair metal sort of way though.

So the slugs continue making their nightly appearance, 10-20 a night, seriously I was living in a frat house for slugs! After maybe two nights, I recall learning in maybe a science class or something, that salt and slugs don’t play well together. For the night I covered the undersink area with salt. At this point, I emailed the landlord and  figured they were sleeping off their slug hangovers by day, under the sink where the leak (I think I already mentioned this one, the wood was rotted out below the pipes, so it wasn’t a new leak) was. I told him that the cold water not working, and the leak both needed to be taken care of, and that there was a slug problem.  I figured sending him a text picture at 2:30 in the morning was appropriate since he had sent a text message at two in the morning the previous night asking for pictures of the leak (honestly, what landlord wants an undersink picture sent to him at 2 am?). Actually I sent 4 or 5 pictures of slugs to him, hey if one is good five is better right? I believe it was the following weekend the landlords showed up at my house around 11 on a Saturday. The primary landlord, or at least the person I make my rent checks payable to, is 85 or 86 (I can’t recall exactly) and likes to tell me how handy he is, and how his retirement community has a woodshop. Okay, he’s kind of a cute old man, and good for him, he gets around better than most people his age. But…….

In addition to putting a fence up on the one side of the house that didn’t have one (so Zeus couldn’t get out) with the help of his son (the person I usually deal with) and grandson (who incidentally was possibly the most awkward and greasy looking kid I’ve ever seen, but he had a Pixies t-shirt on so at least I knew he had good taste in music!!), my landlord brought a piece of vinyl in and screwed it down on top of the rotten wood telling me how nice it was that it matched the tile in the kitchen (repeatedly). Super! So there’s wet rotting wood in the kitchen but it’s all good now that it’s covered up with vinyl and screwed down (that’ll take care of those slugs for sure!). In addition he goes in to the shower in my master bathroom, where the grout needs to be redone, and slops (literally) a bunch of caulk down. The shower drain was broken, it looked like the screws were broken off on the metal piece, so there was a big gaping hole in the shower floor, this also got sloppily caulked down. It lasted a day or two befor emy dog ate the caulk (insert joke here).

Needless to say, the slugs kept coming in to party in my kitchen, though not in such large droves, but 5-10 a night. Maybe they realized they needed to buckle down and focus on their studies. Frat slugs getting the smack down from their academic advisors. Who knows??? And I kept up with the salt. I also was advised that beer was a good trap for them, aparantly gardeners use this one often. See I told you—frat boys!!!! But I couldn’t pour beer allover the kitchen floor, so salt it was, I turned into a cold-blooded slug killa.  When in Rome…..

According to the neighbors, the previous tenants had the slug problem and I was told there were slugs that were up to a foot long [garden slugs don’t get that big, so unless the previous tenants were doing a slug version of a fishing story, they were indeed banana slugs (though I never saw any that big, I would’ve been afraid they’d pick up a feeler-full of salt and throw it back at me if they were that size!)].  The previous tenants didn’t even have the landlord’s phone number. Muahahahahahaha I had it thanks to the neighbor and I used it often!

I got another visit from my “handy” landlord on Father’s Day, he caulked and screwed some pieces of wood down around the vinyl to try and stop the slugs, he fixed a few of the broken screens in the windows and that was about it. Oh! I forgot to mention when he works he makes this weird breathing-whistling noise! It sounds like he’s reverse whistling or something, and it doesn’t stop unless he stops to talk. He mentions the salt and how great salt is for everything, and tells me how his doctor friend in the retirement home had him soak a foot that had a cut on it in salt water to clear the infection and it took care of his foot fungus too. Lovely!!! Just what I was waiting to hear about!!! After that I sort of made my way with coffee and newspaper in hand into my bedroom. Nice guy, but I don’t need to hear about his medical conditions. Thanks.

Sooooo the slugs slowed down  to maybe 2-3 a night. I guess you’ll always have the hangers on, kind of like that guy who hangs out in the highschool parking lot 2-3 years after he graduates. Somehow that cool-guy factor dissapates FAST. There were still several broken window screens, the sliding screen door was broken, Zeus figured out he could jump up on the retaining wall and run through the space of it and the fence the landlords put out (the neighbors enjoyed watching me chase him through the neighborhood on two or three occaisions before I started gaurding it like a defensive tacklewhen I took him outside), the sink was still leaking. The shower in my bedroom started backing up. I had my brother and his wife over for dinner to thank them for helping me move (and for the great leather couches and furniture I inherited when they moved, the futon made it’s way into the guest room and I finally got a real bed) and found that the back two burners on the stovetop didn’t work. One of the kitchen lights didn’t work, I tried a new bulb. The dishwasher had a horrid mildewy smell. Ahhhhhhh the joys of renting. And you too could have all this for a mere $2500.00 a month!!!!  And with that I will leave you all, and continue on my next blog to describe the roommate searching experience (because 2500/mo is not in my budget) and later the landlord smackdown (oh yes, it gets better!).

Also keep in mind, I actually have been having a great time since I moved out here, I have met some great people, enjoy working with my brother (when he’s not firing me), and have gone to some cool places. I have the most beautiful drive to work every morning along the coastal highway. So please don’t take this as complaining, actually despite what a pain it has been, it makes a great story and has provided me and many other people with some great entertainment!!! So keep an eye out for the next installment of my California experience, and in the mean time, Make Good Memories!!!

Number two…..I’ll probably be writing some daily entries until I get up to date. FYI.

So, after the first night in the house, Trav and I met my brother and his wife for brunch on Sunday. At brunch Dustin explains to me that the rentals sans refrigerators are a very typical thing in Southern California. He never mentioned it to me because I guess he figured all states were like that.  I guess people get very attached to their appliances down here????  He tells me he has a refrigerator a client gave him when they were doing a remodel and that I could have it.  Score! No need to rent or buy a huge refrigerator to tote around with me, if only I had power for that free refrigerator…… Then my brother, Dustin, drives us to the airport to drop Travis off for his flight home. About an hour later I receive a text message, “Amy I have the keys to the rental truck in my pocket and am about to board the plane.” Just when you think it’s over….. So I try to see if there’s a way he can leave the keys there for me or if there’s somewhere I can go to pick them up (lost and found or something). Nope thanks to Homeland Security you can not leave a set of keys, they just might be explosive! I get the need to be cautious, but does anyone else feel like it’s maybe been taken a little too far? I am supposed to return the truck by Monday and will be charged late fees for turning the truck in late. Crap! Travis tells me he will overnight the keys Monday morning and I figure I’ll just have to deal with it, not much I could do to change it.

I spent the rest of my weekend unpacking and trying to figure out who I need to call to get the gas and water put in my name, and when garbage day is (the owners left three trashcans FULL of garbage for me). I try calling the property manager, she doesn’t return any of my calls (at one point someone picks up the phone and hangs up immediately). I was never given my landlord’s phone number, just the address to send the rent to each month. I got a note with the electric company on it, but nothing on gas, water or garbage. Either that day or the next (I can’t recall), I spoke with the neighbor who lives next door to me, a very sweet and soft spoken Polish lady, and she tells me the previous tenants never had the landlords phone numbers, but the landlords were there the day before I arrived and she got their phone number. Anya (I think that’s her name) goes inside and gets the number for me, and I call immediately. I leave a message with Steve, my landlord’s son, telling him what a horrible job his property manager did. I should have been informed in advance about there being no power, no refrigerator, and who to contact to get the utilities transferred to my name.  I also let him know there’s no hot water, the kitchen sink’s cold water doesn’t work at all and from the looks of the fence and ants outside, there are probably termites.

When the landlord returns my phone call he claims that he did give me the gas co phone number and the water company.  He didn’t (I still have the note).  In between the time of him calling me back I realized the lack of hot water was a simple matter of the valve needing to be turned on. I was a little embarrassed about that one, I like to think of myself as being a little more intelligent about those kinds of things than what the average female is given credit for, but not this time… I also drove into work to use the internet in order to find out who I needed to call to get the utilities put into my name, made the calls and took care of everything. Between then and Wednesday there wasn’t much excitement apart from meeting neighbors, camping out in my house, reading and getting ready for bed by flashlight and candlelight and beginning work on Tuesday morning (I did manage to get lost even with a GPS unit on the way to work my first day, BUT the addresses there are strange and the GPS was obviously not aware of that– in my defense.

And on the fifth day there was light. Four days, no power, finally things seemed to be coming together!!

I’ll it quits for now, but the slug phenomenon is coming up soon, so stay tuned…..

I recently moved to Orange County from Colorado, and have had such an interesting transition these first few months, I thought I’d start blogging, because I couldn’t make this up. First off, I’ll introduce myself. My name is Amy, I am a 32 year old single female. I studied Art and English Literature in a small liberal arts college outside of Portland, Oregon, travelled extensively for about five years out of college and eventually wound up moving back to Colorado after leaving Spain with 15.00 in my bank account (there really wasn’t much of a choice). I started working as an office assistant for a party rental company in a small mountain town, I was hired for a seasonal position but was told that it was permanent when hired. Once that job came to an end, I started working for my parents’ audio/video business, they sold the business after a year and I stayed on for another three and a half years as the Administrative Manager (Assistant Comptroller would be a better description of the job though). So I am a walking contradiction, Financial Director by day and artist by night–hey noone can say I don’t keep things interesting! After living in a small mountain town for five years, I realized that if I stayed there, I would turn into a crazy old woman with too many pets, bad hair and worse makeup, with a moderate drinking problem–you know the type. Being a 30-something single well travelled and well-educated single woman in a town of 7500 people is a challenge (not an intellectual challenge mind you, but trying on the sanity and patience). So I decided to move to Orange County, a place I had sworn I would NEVER EVER live in my younger, more idealistic days. (Note to self: Never say you’ll never do anything because by doing that you’re committing to proving yourself wrong). Incidentally I found myself getting excited about moving to “the land of sunshine, fake boobs and David Hasselhoff” as a friend so succinctly described it in my going away party invitation. My reason for moving out here? A job, working for my brother’s audio/video company, and eventually to obtain an MBA in accounting. So I left my job in Colorado, rented out my house and reanted a Budgettruck with a trailer for my car. A good friend from highschool drove out with me and this was what ensued:

Trav and I headed out in the huge Budget rental truck on the 16th of May, with the intent to drive straight through. Zeus (my 100lb lapdog and Poseidon (my 9lb kitty) crammed in the cab of the truck with us. Poseidon freaked and panted for a while but after about two hours he was fine, and curled up next to Zeus in between the two seats or slept behind one of the two seats. Everything went fine, I drove until about 1:30 in the morning and handed the wheel over to Trav  on the western edge of Utah. At three in the morning I hear Travis saying “f#@*!” and wake up to ask what’s going on….all he has to say is, “well I’m not sure but sparks aren’t good” (mind you the front light casing has already popped out 2 or maybe 3 times). So the trailer got a flat tire, Trav calls roadside assistance and is told it will probably take and hour, maybe and hour and a half (we are about 40 miles east of vegas at this point). 5:30 in the morning arrives and the repair guy finally shows up, apparently they didn’t have the size specified and had to go to their shop to get it. Low and behold, Budget gave the repair facility the WRONG TIRE SIZE AND the guy notices that another tire on the same side of the trailer is about to blow. Trav gets in my car to get some sleep, I attempt to sleep in the cab of the truck, I don’t want to leave the pets and have them freaking out too. The truck seats are probably the most uncomfortable seats on the planet I think I could have slept better on a bed of nails. So instead I call customer service to bitch. I tell them that they need to refund some of what I paid them because the truck was evidently not checked well enough to ensure it’s driveability, I have looked at all of the tires and they all have very little tread. I take Zeus out and walk him around and let him go to the bathroom. I get back in the truck and manage a little bit of sleep, I call customer service again to find out when the repair guy will be there and to bitch some more (I’m getting good at bitching, and besides it just made me feel better.  Apologies to the customer service representatives.) The repair guy arrives at 8 am (5 FREAKING HOURS AFTER THE BREAKDOWN). I have Zeus outside walking off of the side of the the highway, he has chewed his head harness so his leash is attached to his collar. Trav is on the phone while tire guy is doing his work. Zeus sees a lizard, and he charges after it, I let go of the leash when I realize he is about to take me with him through stickers and random desert weeds. I am yelling my head off at Zeus, Trav looks like he wants to laugh but is so annoyed at this point he can’t. We finally get back on the road at about 8:30 in the morning, have to deal with Vegas traffic in a 16 foot truck with a trailer. I fall asleep just on the other side of Vegas. I wake up an hour or so later and Trav tells me we have another tire that just blew out, but “f#@&  it we’re driving on it because it’s one of the inner dual-lies and we’re not waiting another 5 hours for Budget to fix it”. Trav is a happy guy right now and I imagine he’s damning himself for offering to drive out with me at this point. Before I left home my iPod crashed, I recovered my music but haven’t downloaded it yet and have my computer geek friend’s library on it. Ema has a 6 year old, so amongst the Alice in Chains and good 90s alternative music mixed in with some great 80s hair metal are Blues Clues, The Wiggles, and Mother Goose Rocks. I decide to put “I’m so Happy You’re Here” from Blues Clues in the music mix just for Trav. I figure he needs a laugh and this will either make him laugh or he’ll get out close to the nearest airport and tell me I’m on my own. I get a chuckle. We get into California, I get excited when we pass Barstow and Bakersfield because I was reminded of Hunter Thompson’s Fear and Loathing, we have already experienced the loathing part on our own. As we are getting closer we get stuck in a traffic jam on the 91 because of an accident (I think it was the 91 anyway, they have so damned many freeways out here I’m perpetually confused, having only I-70 and I-25 in Colorado). Finally we arrive at the house I have agreed to rent at 4pm, 6 hours after the anticipated time of arrival. I have to pee so unbelievably bad and the house is locked up, so I go behind the house and squat. Like Annie said “when you gotta go you gotta go”! At this point my phone battery has died maybe 4 times, I have contacted the property manager several times to rearrange our meeting time and a friend of a friend named Annie, who is planning on meeting us. I call her to tell her we have finally arrived, and bless her, she promises not only to come help us but to also bring beer (we both needed one after our 21 hour trip)! After signing my lease, handing over a huge cashiers check, and the property manager leaving I realize that there is no refrigerator in the house and even if there was there’s no power. I call the electric company and they can’t come out and hook me up until Wednesday (it’s Saturday), being a diabetic, I am freaking out because I have insulin that needs to stay cool, I call the property manager and leave an irate message about her inadequacies as a property manager. I realize that my blood-sugar is now low, I head down to a grocery store close to the house to get some food and hopefully a cooler. I find a cooler, ice, and buy some munchies for the people who are coming over to help. When I get back to the house, the crew, including an unbelievably cute and helpful 4 year old “Justus, spelled J-U-S-T-U-S” have already unloaded half of the truck. I get a beer and we continue unloading, Justus lets me know how strong he is, and what a good helper he is. And the little dude certainly is. He also keeps telling me that I need to come over and hang out everyday with him and his mom and his aunt–too damn cute!! The whole process maybe took two hours to unload. We all sit down and have a beer outside. Justus lets me know that “I wanna play something” eyeing the Spiderman picture on the side of my PS3, unfortunately, no power, no Spidey so I promise that when I get unpacked I will have them over and he can play video games. Mind you the little guy was ready to start unpacking and setting up the house, if only I had his energy…

Annie tells Trav and I she’s going to take us out on the town. So she leaves to get ready. I attempt to bathe (with no hot water), and then go out to my car to put on makeup (since there are no lights in the house) and my car has a dome light. I’m resourceful… Finally we are ready and head to Annie’s house. She drives us down to the harbor and we go to a bar/restaurant called Turks  where the waitress, forgets to bring my second beer and my water multiple times but never forgets Trav, I guess she thought he was cuter than me… Then we go to a great restaurant/bar in San Clemente, right on the pier, and a great dive bar in San Juan. Finally after being up for nearly 48 hours, we get back to the house, stumble through boxes with a tiny keychain flashlight, and pass out.

And this was just the first 24 hours, more to come, it does get better…