Tuesday, July 30, 2013

Cluck-a-doodle-do!

I have no idea why I am stuck on the chicken thing. Seriously. We've had more chicken to eat in the last 3 weeks that the guys have requested all things hamburger. Not sure if this is a sign or what.

Show of feathers, I mean hands - who's surprised that the dishwasher was NOT installed this last weekend? Anyone? Personally, I would have been more surprised if it would have happen because like that would be a first. Brandon, sensing that his ears were going to get pecked to death, had the guy installing the dishwasher call me to schedule when he could come out.

Chicken.

The man installing the dishwasher wasn't aware of the crazy woman he called because he told me how my patience is going to be rewarded because he was picking up an nice used white dishwasher that very moment and it had my name on it. He wasn't really prepared for when I muttered, "as if I had a choice." Dude will be here tomorrow to install it. I have his number already programmed and ready to speed dial.

In other news, the guys are now legal drivers. I think I was more nervous than they were. Got it all done and huge relief that stage 1 is over. On to the next phase! That screaming noise you might hear might be from them or me - or maybe both.

This should be some interesting blog fodder. And I'm now seriously thinking about binge drinking to be unable to do the road testing part. I'm still freaked out by 465 which is the circle of crazy. I promised the guys it would be a while before we made them get on it. What they failed to over look is my definition of "a while" is open to a loose interpretation.

Revenge! Thy name is sweet!

Totally kidding! I want them confident not terrified so they don't kill me in the process.

As if this day couldn't get any more exciting - we're off to go grocery shopping.

Hold me.

Wednesday, July 24, 2013

Hell Hath No Furry Like A Ticked Off Chicken

Cluck-a-doodle-do! Rise and shine, for thy beak is ready to peck the flesh off of a jerk of a property owner. Actually, it's the maintenance manager but no one is doing anything about it. Because this Chickie went a bit postal today.

Lots of flapping and squawking finally got the a/c working AND the bathroom is mostly finished. I was told someone would come out and trim the bathroom and seal the floor. As sure as I'm sitting here, I know they were lying through their tooth.

You read that right.

The rest of the downstairs has no trim and they've done nothing to the concrete floor. So why they thought I was going to believe them that would actually finish off the bathroom when they never finished off the rest of the place is beyond me. Let's put it this way - their crappy work was a lot to be desired and having a husband that was in construction in different areas for lots and lots of years? He's still muttering, and I think he actually sprained his eyebrow. It was that bad.

I was slightly amused that I have a reputation as I heard some of the guys talking about the office manager doesn't like me. Ask me if I care. Go ahead - ask! Hell to the no! She's the chick that I got into a slight cat-fight with over the phone. So I guess she's been telling the guys what a pill I am. For a month, I've had to be up and dressed early every day because I never knew when someone would show up. My favorite was when they arrived at 7:30 a.m. on a Saturday just to walk through the place to make a list of what needed to get done. Trouble with that was they were the third round of guys who already did this and yet none of them where the group to actually do the work.

She promised they would call before they showed up. Not.one.time. I still think I deserved an award for how fast I leaped out of bed, threw on my clothes and bolted for the door before the jerks took off. Because goodness knows when these idiots would come back out.

Brandon, the maintenance guy, and I clearly hate each other and we don't bother to hide this on the phone. Trouble is he's always on speaker phone and I since I have some of my mother's paranoia genes running through my veins, I'm often wondering - who's there listening? Since I've had people use my edited emails against me, I just don't trust people to be on the up and up. Thank you churches of Michigan - that is what you have taught me. Can't trust anyone.

Gosh, it's such a shock why I will NEVER MOVE BACK THERE! Goodbye Egypt! Good luck with the plague and all that.

Anyhoo....

Brandon called this morning as we are still waiting for a new dishwasher. Although, I'm under no delusion that these cheap jerks will actually put in a new one. They've sent 4 round of guys to check the stupid thing out. Here's a clue geniuses - it doesn't work! We were told to just run a cleaner through it and when we told them we did, four times with no results. That's usually when Cletus, Otis, JimBob, Earl, and/or Hank all came to the brilliant opinion that gosh, we need a new one.

This has been going on for well over a month with just the dishwasher so yes, the bitterness, the angst, and all around general fury is at an all time high.

I talked to a guy who was supposed to replace the dishwasher last week but he wanted to color coordinate with the other appliances and didn't have any white ones. Not to mention he was planning on going on vacation so shucky-darn, it would have to be done Monday. Monday came and went - nothing. Tuesday came and went - still nothing. Phone calls were made and that's went Brandon called back.

His southern drawl was so dead to me and after listening to him hem and haw for a few minutes, I spat out I don't care about the stupid color, I just want a dishwasher that works! He said there were no white ones available to which I repeated myself I didn't care about color. I tried to nail him on a time frame to which he said it would be a few days to a week. I shot back that I was told that a week ago and I was calling because I was already told another one would have been installed by now.

Score 1 for me!

His long pause reeked of busted and tried to push the blame off his sorry shoulders and wanted to know who I talked to so he could say that was out of his hands. Me, chicken feathers flying by this point, shot back not my job to get this squared away or to remember who was in charge especially since I've had a whole crew of people trample through the place with little to show for it. He said he would make a few phone calls, which I parted with a 'ya, you do that.' and hung up.

2 minutes later he called back and real snotty like said I should have a dishwasher by the weekend and then hung up on me! I think I stared at my phone for a few minutes trying to process what just happened. But I'm pretty sure I may have won....at least we'll see if I've won if I have a working dishwasher by the weekend.

I then spent the next 15 minutes hopping around the kitchen, squawking like a chicken, flipping off my phone, and calling the guy all kinds of.....um, interesting....uh, names. Colorful names and what he could do with himself with different instruments of pain. Jerk.

But I've spent the rest of the day trying to calm my feathers down. So far, it's not working.

Wednesday, July 10, 2013

I Don't Think I Can Come Up With A Title For This Mess

Been an interesting few days. And by interesting I mean Fred had to take over and said, 'get it done or we're contacting a lawyer.' Cuz that's how he rolls. I'm still fluffing my feathers.

Although, I did get into a bit of a cat fight on the phone. I can call it a cat fight as there was close to hissing noises involved on both ends. I was told that the a/c guys might not be out until Thursday as emergencies come first and I may have gone off that we are now an emergency or we're gonna sue your arse if you don't do your freaking job. Cuz I guess that's how I roll.

What can I say? She caught me at a bad time. Nothing will unhinge a person more than when they have sweat sliding down both their butt crack and their bewb crack. Not to mention she's called like 4 times in the last month to say someone would come out only to have no one show for various reasons. I even pointed this out to her and she didn't appreciate this observation and got a bit snippy with me.

Clearly, she's new here.

I wish I knew what it is exactly I said, because the a/c guys were out here by 10 a.m. Which I do find funny because the bathroom guys were supposed to be here at that time which they turned out to be a no show. So when they knocked on the door and said they were for the a/c, I may have squealed in delight which sort of scared them....a bit.

But they got it all up and running and we have sweet cool air flowing through the house. I'll leave off how irony decided to show up for the party by having a thunderstorm blow through knocking the temp down to the low 70s. I don't care, I'm still running the a/c. This house doesn't get air flow through it no matter how many windows and doors we leave open. Plus half the windows don't have screens.

I'm now washing up every one's bedding to try and get rid of the nasty sweat smells.

I'm hoping everyone will be able to sleep well tonight. No one has gotten much sleep from all the sweating which leads to tossing and turning. Needless so say, angst has been on a slow boil. Always a lovely mix when teenagers are involved. Especially when one of them has hormones more unstable than my own. Which I'm about ready to smack him. I can almost say it's not entirely his fault. Anytime I try a new vitamin and/or supplement, it throws my whole cycle off track. This leaves those grumpy 'I want to kill you all' type feelings that we use to know when they would show up, to now take on more of a ninja form where it's any one's guess.

Never a dull moment around here.

Especially when the 14 yr old doesn't have enough sense to not slap the angry/hormone crazed bear.

I'm sure this is penance as I have mild flashbacks of doing similar things to my mother.....and I'm still not sorry about it.

 Maybe I can get a therapist to take pity on me and take my case on for free.

Speaking of free and therapy - my adopto sissy was down for the weekend. We were talking about bewb sweat and bewby holders and what have you. There is an article going around that has been on both Facebook and Pinterest about getting properly measured. I was telling Sissy this and how it has made me have happy bewbs now since I was wearing the wrong size. I'm still floored about it because I thought the lady was totally making this stuff up when I read the article.

Long story slightly short, I made her measure herself and showed her how her bewby holder wasn't doing her girls any favors. So the quest for bewby holders was on and her skinny little self can't even get her size at a normal store, but we stayed the course and found some for her at Vickie's den of devils.

(We know she has no secrets. Just saying)

She now sends me text messages that her bewbs are happy and loves me - in a non creepy way. I think Oprah said like 90 some percent of women are wearing the wrong bra size which I didn't believe. Gasp! I know! I think I broke some sort of girl code for not believing Oprah. Turns out, she was right and I was one of them.

So now in spite of all the other crap going on, I will now have cool, happy bewbies. Because bewb sweat is just unpleasant.

I was telling Fred all of this and it was a train of thought that turned out like -
Me: Do you think the word cleavage is made up?
Fred: *pause* why?
Me: Because boob crack seems a bit out there.....especially if she has a lot of boob.
Fred: *rolls eyes*

He is a patient soul.

Wednesday, July 3, 2013

A Bit Of This And That

Big shock - nothing has been done. I did finally get up the nerve to write a nasty-ish letter to go with our rent check. I am setting the stage. We've done the 500 phone calls of nothing to show for it, so I've moved on to the letter of you better do something.

I am chicken - hear me cluck!

Besides, the guy I'm suppose to call doesn't answer my phone calls. I'm still working up the nerve to squawked out a mild observation of this is violating Indiana code followed by a veiled threat of possibly contacting a lawyer. I just want them to do their job and get stuff done. I understand being busy, but what I don't understand is the excuse after excuse to just down right not doing it. How many times do you have to call before someone just does their job? And I can not stress enough how I really, really don't want to go to court for one more flipping thing!

Makes me so mad I could just spit. That is if I could actually spit instead of the dribble of shame that may or may not lob off my chin. So classy.

My FIL made it out to collect Clifford the big, red work truck. He was super happy, but then guilt moved in and he felt bad about it for reasons that escape me. I told him if he was that bothered by it he could find a car for the boys to learn to drive in. I'm actually hoping he does it. I told Fred I have decided I like my Blazer too much to let newbies drive it. Not to mention if I were in their shoes, I would be begging not to learn to drive that hog. This leaves Fred's vehicle which isn't exactly a car plus he's working. We shall see. Right now I'm still having to get them to actually read the driver's manual to actually pass their test.

Speaking of that - I think I may have caused a stir. Jared is in the throws of 14 year hormone hell. One day he was super grumpy, which is soooo not him. The next day he was super clingy where he would tackle people to snuggle them. The day after that was a wicked combination of the two. Dude is taller than Michael and is quickly gaining on Nicholas much to his delight. The smugness almost cost him his life a couple times.

So. He observes his brothers reluctance to driving. I stupidly made the comment that maybe I should have Jared read it and give them the highlights. Stupid, stupid, stupid! Words can not express what a colossal mistake that turned out to be, because Jared ran with it. I think he read almost the whole thing and then started tossing out "did you know?" fun facts about driving much to the angst of his older brothers.

That boy is either incredibly brave or incredibly stupid.

Now he pipes up from the way back of the vehicle about different rules for driving. You might want to pray for him. I thought it was going to come to blows and that was after he started commenting on my driving. The child has inherited not only my sarcastic mouth but also the ability to cluck like a chicken. So he'll start something and then take off squawking like a chicken of pleas not to kill him with feathers flying with his brothers hot on his heels, batting away the feathers.

If only I could afford to drink, because goodness knows I have the motivation.

My mom happened to call shortly after this and I was sort of boo-hooing about it, and of course, the woman offers absolutely no sympathy whatsoever. Instead she cackled that I did the same thing to my brother and she took great delight in how things go around.

Me, being me, took that moment to point out that hopefully said brother would be paroled in time to cart her butt all over the place like she is with her MIL. The cricket chirps were rather deafening.

Welp. If I'm going to be spending quality time repenting, I might as well make it worth while.

I got an email from my MIL. That cross-stitch picture I was supposed to get done for mother's day but didn't - sent it along with FIL. She loved it, which I was relieved. Darn thing gave me fits. Never underestimate that when you use like 15 shades of green with just a few stitches here and there, it will eat up your time. But glad it's done and she liked it.

I am still struggling with my time management. I can't say as I'm entirely surprised especially since I get easily distracted by things, but I still find it frustrating that the list of things I need to do aren't getting done. I'm stuck here waiting on different people who are supposed to show up and do their job. So as the days creep by with nothing to show for it, it's carrying over to other areas. I finally can go off and run errands only to not be able to as I wait for others.

Oh irony, I really hate you at times. And please, take that personally.