Must'a Done Somethin' Good

I love green arrows.
They're a sign that God loves me.

You know what I mean. When you're trying to get to somewhere that requires you to drive through a gazillion-billion-trillion stoplights? And then, to your horror, you realize that you'll have to make a left at the next intersection and the light just plinked to yellow!!!

*Commence screaming.*

But no, wait! A shaft of light has broken through the swirling darkened clouds, to illuminate the most beautiful thing on God's green Earth.

An arrow. (Which also happens to be green.)

Breathe a sigh of relief because it is quite evident that some all-omnipotent power is watching over you.

Know what else is proof?
The DI.

Where else can you sort through piles of seemingly useless stuff in hopes of finding a real beaut'?

I love thrift shopping. Love, love, love. Gem will try to persuade you never to accompany me to the Dollar Store or DI. Don't listen to her. She's so full of it her eyes are turning brown.

And just as proof, here are just a few samples of my treasures.

I've decided that this is my color. (In case you were wondering after viewing my blog background theme...) I must have at least three articles of clothing in a variation of the exact same hue.

The only problem is that this jacket in particular must've been made in a box factory. Cuz' the thing was square as can be.

Well, not any longa'! Heh, heh.

I added two wide pleats on either side of the main structural back seam and now it's a fitted jacket in the prettiest color ever invented. Woo baby!

I also picked up this white blouse with gold and platinum pinstripes. I knew it had real potential from the moment I laid eyes on it.

Since the beginning of my TLC watching days, Stacie and Clinton from 'What Not to Wear' have advised me to accentuate the waist with wrap dresses & tops and to elongate the torso with vertical stripes.

Done and done.

The only problem was that it had nasty long cuffed sleeves which were anything but flattering.

But that didn't scare me one bit.
I used the fabric that was removed to make a wide button-less cuff for a short sleeve variation that turned out rather well if I do say so myself.

In fact, I am wearing it now.
At this very moment.

And by Jove, it looks good!

But let's not forget the last, and probably most important, way that I know God loves me.

After the laptop doctor did all that he could possibly do, aside from mountain-moving miracles, my laptop was still malfunctioning.

That was, until it decided to fix itself.
Crazy, I know.

After hard-shutting it off for the ump-teenth time, it decided to correct various system errors. Yes, tis' true. It will survive.

I'm just glad that I was finally given the Blue Screen of Life for once. "What's that?", you say?

Only just about the most thrillingly joyful appearance.

The Blue Screen of Death is much more ominous. Observe.

Dun, dun, DUHN!

See? Didn't that sound terrifying?
Ya know. Life would be so much better with sound effects.

'Da Twinneh' and I have discussed it many a time.
We're not talkin' personal theme music, although that, at times, is extremely entertaining.

We're talkin' eye plinks, shoe squishes and thought bubble pops. Spongebob style.

With screeching halts (literally), percussively intense death glares and un-realistically loud gestures.

The whole SHEbang.

*sigh*

Maybe someday...
If I'm really good.

Legality Shmegality.

Pity me.
I spent an entire day last week at my desk, drafting and finalizing the main features of a newly concocted roommate agreement. Its tenets and facets are more conclusive than I ever dreamed.

Yes. I just used the words 'tenets' and 'facets'.
Do I sound very official-ish?

Because that's what I'm goin' for.

After all. This is an extremely serious matter.
The fate of two sisters, one Canadian and a Texan rests in the balance.

Because ya'll should know how important we are, eh.

I created this contract of sorts based upon direct inspiration given by the one and only Sheldon Cooper from one of the world's greatest television shows ever: The Big Bang Theory.



Sometimes it scares me how similar we are...

But let me explain.
For the past three years, I have put up with a whole lot of crap from various roommates.

Don't get me wrong, I've also had a lot of fun with the two Canadians, two Norwegians, one Brazilian and three Americans I've been grouped with but heavens-to-Betsy, can we not all be grown-ups?

How hard can it be to throw away that empty Ramen Noodle package?
To actually take out the trash just once in your life?
Do we not know what a dumpster looks like?
Is it really that difficult to sweep the kitchen floor every so often?
Let alone dream of mopping?

Realize, these were all internal musings. Not once did I lash out upon coming home to a trashed apartment, cleaning it up without a word and then being greeted with a "Thanks for cleaning up, hun. You are just too sweet."

Well ya know what Bucko!?!
If you were really grateful for my services you would've cleaned up after yourself the next time just to save me the trouble.

or the NEXT time.
or the NEXT TIME.

So it's no surprise that, during my final year of college, I must insist upon some house rules to be followed religiously upon threat of death.

And therefore, without further ado, I present the goods.
Do not be alarmed at my amazing skill and technical jargon.

Roommate Agreement

Are you impressed at my handy work?
I slaved all day over a hot keyboard to bring it to you.

Except it was actually only an hour or so and I sit directly over a cooling vent.

Okay, okay.
I suppose it wasn't too painful.

My suffering may have also been lessened due to the Reese's Cheesecake I brought into the office as payment for services provided and aforementioned. *See 'Sofa', So Good.*

My debt has been paid.

I have it on good authority that this was the best cheesecake ever made/eaten since 1993.

"You remember a cheesecake you had in 1993 that was better?", I quizically asked the maintenance worker who stumbled upon a free sample serendipitiously.

"No, it's not that." he responded quickly, "I mean that 1993 is as far back as I can remember."

"Oh." I smiled pleasantly, "Then I'll take that as a compliment."

Virtual Sob Story

Betcha' didn't know that Corinner-Elly lives and breathes the World Wide Web. Tis' true. It is the very sustenance of life.

She practically died when someone searched 'Google' in Google.
That'll break the Internet, you know.

So it's no surprise that upon receiving countless messages over the course of the past few months, documenting the errors 'PostMortem Doctor Watson' and 'SkypeNames' had encountered, Corinner-Elly began to panic.

The choices were simple:
A) hyperventilate and die
-or-
B) ask for help.

Naturally, there was only one person to turn to.
The laptop doctor.

"Daddy?" she mustered up the courage, "Do ya' think you could help me out here, fer' a sec?"

"What seems to be the problem?" he willingly offered.

"Oh, only just about everything.", she frowned.

And then, he worked his magic.
Sparks flew, hours passed, screams were suppressed and...

Skype finally installed.

"Phew." I gasped, sweat rolling down my face, "How do you do this everyday?"

"Hmm?..." Dad mumbled while swallowing another gulp of Diet Cherry Dr. Pepper.

"So, is she gonna make it?" I breathed while patting the keyboard's worn keys, "She's all I have you know."

"Oh," he sighed," she just decides to take a lunch break every once and a while.

"That's a weird thing to say," I thought, "but she does have cookies so... I guess it makes sense."

"Well this is goin' slower than a herd of turtles tramping through peanut butter." Dad muttered, "How much space do you have on your hard drive anyway?"

I gave him a blank stare.
And possibly the stink eye.

Deftly maneuvering the built in mouse to the My Computer icon and then to the bottom of the scroll down menu with a flick of his wrist, the gigabyte count began to multiply.

"What in the world do you have on here!?" he questioned incredulously.

"Just the essentials." I responded, "And all of that digital scrapbooking stuff Jenny insisted I could not live without."

You see, what you must know is that my oldest sister Jenny has been a sales woman since the day of her birth. No jokin'.

I'm pretty sure she had the nurses hooked on Pampered Chef, Mary Kay, Xango, MAX, Tupperware, Cookies by Design and twenty other popular products before they even had time to swaddle her fast talking little butt.

Thus, I was no match for her persistence when she decided to share the wealth of digital scrapbooking templates, papers and wording she had inherited from her mother-in-law.

"Will they fit?", I inquired warily.

"No problem." she reassured.

A quick scan of the dreaded desktop folder revealed the truth.

"FORTY-FOUR gigabytes!!!" Dad practically screamed, "That is HALF of your carrying capacity!"

"It's not my fault!" I wimpered from my hiding spot under the table, "Have you MET your eldest daughter? She's very persuasive."

"Yah, but in the meantime your system is choking!", Dad exclaimed.

"I'm sorry!" I shrieked, "Don't you feel the least bit sorry for me?!"

"You know I'm just teasin'." he softened before starting a full computer scan, "There's probably only a hundred er' so problems."

"A HUNDRED???", I swooned.

Just before blacking out, I recognized the soft hum of his hearty chuckles exiting the room.

'Sofa', So Good.

Today is a good day.
Today is a GREAT day.

Before today, I lamented the ugly, hand-me-down, A-typical college student apartment couches that polluted my past.

Before today, I covered my eyes when walking past the living room in my soon-to-be-once-more apartment and cursed its sagging, hated frame every time I whacked my head on its retro wooden armrests.

Before today, I browsed sofa slipcovers in my spare time.

But Today. Oh, today.
I have a new couch.

FOR FREE.

It's so FLUFFY!!! I'm gonna die!

*new couch dance*
It's amazingly similar to the yard sale dance. 'Da twinneh' can teach you. (Results may vary.)

Isn't it fan-FREAKING-tastic!?!

It's so beautiful and cushy and... my new best friend!
I can't believe my luck.

I mean... little ole' me was just sitting at my desk, mindin' my own business when all of a sudden, presto chango, someone comes in with a flyer that needs to be approved.

"FREE!", it read.

'Twas love at first sight, I tell ya.

And thus, magic.
I convinced the warehouse boys ('men', to be politically correct) to pick it up from the lady's apartment and bring it back to be stored at the office for the time being. I'm sure they would have helped me out anyways but, for their generosity, I offered to make any dessert they so desire.

The consensus? Reese's cheesecake with an Oreo crust.
Doable. Oh-so-doable.

Pictures to come.

But back to the miracle at hand.
Remember these little grossies, described in all their disgustingness above?

The bad news is: they're not going anywheres.
Especially to the dump. Where they belong.

and don't even mention the DI.
Even homeless, blind people have higher standards.

The good news is: I purchased two new gorgeous chocolate suede slipcovers in an oh-so-hasty, spur of the moment, drastically life changing purchase!

*sniff*
Candy, Gem n' Lera.
You just better appreciate me.
We are gonna have such a sweet set-up in the Fall.

Which reminds me...
I have a roommate agreement to draw up. (Details to come.)

Better get crackin'.