Thou shall not make popcorn

Tuesday, July 31, 2007
I pulled off a stunt like I've never done before. Forget that he's my B.F., I might be the worst roommate ever for this. I burned popcorn. Not only that, I turned the microwave super yellow as smoke was slowly releasing from the crevices of the microwave door. Burnt popcorn is the worst smell and the hardest to get rid of. We opened up the door, sprayed Febreze, put a fan in front of the door to blow the burnt smell out, nothing has worked -- not even 10 hours later.

Note to self: When cooking popcorn, make sure you know the size of the bag -- regular of single serving. If so, single serving will burn on the standard "popcorn" button and cause horrendous smells and make your B.F. want to kill you.

Secret single behavior (SSB) revealed

Monday, July 30, 2007
We all do these things and I'd like to borrow the phrase from a Sex and the City episode called "secret single behaviors." We all have them, and don't really know that we do them until another party points them out.

Let me reveal some of mine. It's not really a guilty pleasure, but I love to eat Saltine crackers with peanut butter and jelly with tea. Now my tea must have milk and sugar in it -- lots of sugar. I've had this tea obsession since I was a kid -- it was probably the most "adult" thing I could pull off at 5-years-old. I like to watch Lifetime movies on a lazy Sunday, especially the ones featuring any 90210 cast members like Tori Spelling and Tiffany Amber Thiessen. And I might bust out typical white girl dance moves -- I can't dance.

Now I've seen this SSB a couple times, but I've watched the whole thing from start to finish and nearly burst into tears I was laughing so hard. If you've read my bio, you know that the B.F. has a slight obsession with his hair. Everyone knows this -- everyone. His friends and co-workers make fun of him for it. A couple weeks ago we were heading to a graduation party and it wasn't humid or muggy outside, so I rolled the windows down to enjoy the nice weather.

B.F. -- Allison, can' t we turn the air conditioning on?
Me -- No, it's so nice outside. I hate using air when we don't have to.
B.F. -- It's going to mess up my hair!
Me -- laughing and still laughing to this day

Do you understand how much he likes his hair? Like Uncle Jesse from Full House but without the mullet. He has medium brown, slightly shaggy hair, so it looks good when he's done with his ritual, but it's the process at which he goes about acheiving it that makes me crack up.

Let me describe to you his routine:
He uses Tresemme styling putty and puts on a little at a time to get it to sit just right. However, as he's adding little by little, he whips out this miniature mirror so he can see what the back of his hair looks like and those few sections of hair that just won't lay right. Then, you know when he means business when he does this thing with his lips. As he's concentrating on his hair, or anything for that matter, he tightens his lips up like he means business. And, apparently, he does.

Questions to ask yourself....

Thursday, July 26, 2007
...before you move in, get engaged or get married is the subject of an article in July's Cosmopolitan. Well, way to go Cosmo! When I was looking for advice three months ago when the B.F. and I were discussing our future -- where the hell were you? So, since I already made the plunge, I guess it can't hurt to take the quiz.

Q-Am I moving in with him mainly to get distance from my parents or to prove that I'm an adult?
Answer -- Hell no. I proved to my parents I was an adult at age 12, when I found the house in the paper that they still live in.

Q-Was this decision prompted because it makes life more convenient or is a great financial deal?
Answer -- No and No. He's in advertising...that's not where the money is.

Q-Can I tolerate his daily habits?
Answer -- It should be the other way around...can he tolerate my daily habits?

Q-How will we merge our decorating tastes? Do either of us have items that we are not willing to give up?
Answer -- See previous post. He has this hideous chair that I can't wait to pitch as soon as I get the chance.

Q-Do I feel relaxed enough around him to reveal my flaws?
Answer -- I have none. Next question!

Q-Have we discussed duties? Who cleans and when? Or have we agreed to hire someone?
Answer -- I haven't lifted a finger! I think I've checked the mail once! Who needs a maid when you have a neat, organized and obsessive compulsive B.F.!

Q-Am I prepared to have someone always in my space?
Answer -- Yes, but not someone who likes to lock me out of the apartment on purpose and fucks with me when I'm on the phone.

Q-What do our recurring fights tend to be about? Do we believe that cohabiting will help fix those habits?
Answer -- He gets mad because I'm always right..duh..girls always are. Maybe I will rub of on him...

Q-Am I hoping this will lead to our getting engaged? If so, does he know that and share the goal of marriage?
Answer -- I think I just threw up in my mouth a little bit.

I think I did pretty well on this quiz. Not bad for my first one.

Decorating...shabby chic vs. black and white

Tuesday, July 24, 2007
This evening, we decided to get the artwork off of the floor and onto the walls in the living/dining rooms along with the hallway and some other random areas. I don't have a lot of decorations/wall art/ amazing things to hang. Before this, I lived with a friend who had been living on her own for quite some time and accumulated fantastic furniture and some nice pictures along the way as well. So, when we parted ways, she took her fantastic pictures and pieces and I still didn't buy anything to replace it.

Well the B.F. has black and white photos of James Dean, Marilyn, Audrey and Miles Davis which cost him a bundle with custom framing. When we first moved in, I really liked them and thought we could incorporate them into our new living space. I don't know what I think now. I'm thinking they are more rec-roomish than living areaish. I really don't like the one of Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid and he wants to hang it in the dining room. So, I tell the B.F. this and he offers to give me the Marilyn picture to put in my room to shut me up. It doesn't work.

Here's how our conversation went:
Me: Umm B.F., Marilyn doesn't go with my shabby chic theme.
B.F.: What shabby chic theme?
Me: room...that theme.
He beelines for my room to point out how "not shabby chic" my room is and I follow him to explain how it is, in fact, very shabby chic. (Ok, maybe not really, but I'm not losing this one to black and white pictures.)
B.F.: The only thing "shabby chic" in here is that mirror. (He points to this huge mirror with a tarnished gold frame resting on a dresser. I got at Gabe's in Kent for the small price of $40! Anywhere else it was $100 and up.)
Me: No, that picture is and that one and that one. Oh, and that candle holder and my furniture.
B.F.: No, your furniture is hand-me-downs from when you were a kid that you painted white.
(Fact: My dad painted both dressers white. With all the moving I've done over the years, there are plenty of worn-off edges, cracks and other miscellaneous markings that make the furniture unique. Plus, look through Rachel Ashwell's books on shabby chic and she finds tons of treasures that are old and from the flea market.) I rest my case.

I did win one argument -- Butch isn't up in the dining room. Audrey is instead.

Growing pains

Monday, July 23, 2007
"How is it living with that boyfriend?"....I was only asked that about 12 times this past weekend at my friend Steph's wedding. I have to think about that question. How is it living with the B.F.? I don't know, because we actually haven't really been around that much since I moved in over a week ago. Well, I should say not around each other more than we were before we lived together. I had a wedding out of town and he had one even farther in Rhode Island. Our lives seem pretty separate, minus the fact that he's around telling me to clean up, shut cabinets ( I told you I don't shut them), or my favorite, "Allison, why are all these lights on?"

I need lights. Lots of light. The B.F. can watch TV with this one little light! I need more because I'm already blind! I went off on a tangent though.

And then a good friend Erin asked me the same question. I still don't know the answer. But as I sit here, watching him watch some stupid war movie, and ask me for the 400th time where to hang these pictures that are lying on our floor, I still don't think I'm any closer to an answer.

DVR--the next best thing to TIVO

Wednesday, July 18, 2007
We only got one DVR...this could be a problem. I'm obsessed with the HBO series Entourage and Big Love -- he only likes Entourage and I can only watch it in the living room.

Just wait until the fall comes and we have to fight over Desperate Housewives, Grey's Anatomy, Lawn & Order:SVU and so many others!!!!

Time Warner Cable = The Worst Cable (T.W.C.)

Yesterday, I didn't spend it working, laying out or shopping. Oh no, I spent it sitting my ass in my new apartment waiting for Time Warner Cable to come and install my internet/cable. Why you ask? Because they are idiots and haven't been able to grasp the concept of customer service and they don't have an appreciation for anyone's time.

The day before, the B.F. stayed and waited for The Worst Cable to come and install our internet/cable/DVR. I made this appointment a month ago to try and get on top of things. Forget that! My time was from 8 a.m. - noon. So, I'm at work and miss a call from some bullshit call center telling me that "The Worst Cable has made numerous attempts at getting ahold of me and that they've had negative responses from me." Nope, lie #1. I didn't have a "single attempt" missed call from anyone -- except from the bullshit call center. My B.F., who was in the apartment, said he never heard any buzzing/knocking.

Both of us play phone tag with T.W.C. only to find out that the call center can't call the truck and get the technician back there because they are just a "call center." Oh, I'm sorry, doesn't that mean you should be able to make a "call" and figure out where the truck is.

I got my cable installed -- wahoo! Yesterday, T.W.C. technician came at 4:30 after I was given a time frame from anywhere between 8 a.m. through 9 p.m. Needless to say, I didn't sit at home the whole time, I set things up, ran to the grocery store and watched all of season three of Sex and the City. So when I heard the buzzing at 4:30, I ran like the wind to the front door and there he was -- T.W.C. technician.

He says, "Wow, I was afraid you weren't going to hear my buzzing."
I say, "Well, if I didn't hear the knocking, when you called the contact number that's my cell phone, I would've known you were here."
He says, "Well, I don't like to call the customer number."

Well, then there's the problem now isn't it? What the hell is the sense of a contact number if you aren't going to dial it!

Lesson learned -- skip The Worst Cable and go with Direct TV.

Day 1--Moving Day

Tuesday, July 17, 2007
Ok, so it's not really Day 1. It's actually Day 4 of living in our new apartment for the next year. (I had to delete "my" when describing our new apartment.) I forget that I'm actually somewhat part of a "we" now.

This past Saturday, I decided to do the unthinkable -- I moved in with the B.F. Yes, I joined the "cohabitants club" and took a dive into the unknown with him. This all started over a year and half ago when I met him, hated him with a passion, and then started liking him, then thinking it would just be a summer fling that turned into the most normal (if that's possible) relationship I've had for the past year.

But, let's jump back to this Saturday and the moving part. Seriously, who likes moving? You have to pack shit up, organize, write on boxes and decide if you do or don't want to keep that pair of jeans that doesn't fit you -- but it will once you start working out! So we moved everything. I mean everything from his place, which was also my temporary storage for the past two weeks as well.

I'm going to define everything: TVs, dressers, shoes, a fucking entertainment system, couch, this ugly chair I'm trashing the first second I get, a dining room table, chairs, lamps, pots, pans -- you name it, just the two of us move it. After moving the fucking entertainment system from his place and then into the elevator, from the elevator to the truck, and from the truck inside our new place... I was pretty much done and my legs/arms/back was shot, which prompted the B.F. to make fun of me because I couldn't carry it. (FYI -- I try not to deadlift at all, let alone huge pieces of furniture).

We did all of this for about 6 hours, just the two of us with the normal cussing, "you are an idiot" kind of conversation, but I think we were both thrilled to be out of his one-bedroom that it didn't really matter at this point.

Our place is two-bedrooms, 2-baths and the best part -- I got to put all my stuff in the master bedroom. Yes, we have two bedrooms because I'm a clothes/shoe/accessory whore and have entirely too many things. Obviously we are sleeping together. Except for when I'm annoyed with him and want to slam a door. At that point, I know I will appreciate the two-bedroom idea!