LB's housekeeping tip #001

Have guests coming unexpectedly?  Here's what I do to create a great inviting smell to welcome people as they come to visit. 

Forget candles, infusers or incense.  Head for the fridge and cook some bacon!  It works as a snack to help you keep up your energy as you entertain your guests and nothing is more inviting than the smell of fresh cooked bacon.

HGTV ain't got nothing on me!
LB

Playing Hard to Get... LB

To best understand this post, you will need to read yesterday's.  Here's the link 

So it turns out that things are not always as they seem. Funny enough, the man who sexyily (is that a word?) threw my heavy box into the car was in fact my new neighbor. HE LIED. HE LIED not only to me, but TO MY MOMMA!!!!!!!!!!!! OMG… WTF… and a few other acronyms I can’t think of right now.


OK highly attractive man who lives right down the hall from me. How would you think that I wouldn’t figure out! You live right down the hall from me. WTF!
I just got rejected and HARD! REAL HARD! I realize that I only look like Halle Berry when the room is highly shaded, but still. Lying sir… only makes me want you harder!
This is real folks, cue Hi-Five song. “He’s playing hard to get, he’s playing… but he likes me… he likes me!”

Special Addendum:
I told my mother that there was a man who moved into the apt down the hall. She suggested I bring him pie, but left some important words for me as well. She said, “LB, before you bring the pie, make sure to shave your face!” Good lookin’ out mom. She always has my back!

LB

New Neighbor... LB

Currently, in my lovely apt building I am the only tenant on my floor.  But just yesterday, there were movers bring stuff into an apt down the hall from me. 

There were two men dressed in movers gear while a third much more attractive man oversaw the work.  As I walked past him to take out my trash he kindly greeted me. 

I took a quick assessment.  No ring, attractive, nice build, can obviously afford movers and polite.  SCORE!  I threw out my trash and hightailed it back to my apt, for some personal renovations!  I quickly did my hair, threw on some make-up and smothered myself in scented lotion.

When my mother came by the apartment later on that day she also noticed the cute new neighbor and true to form had already chatted him up before she even got to my door. 

The minute she came into my place she said, "I saw your new neighbor he's cute!"  I answered very nonchalantly, "Yea, I think I said hello to him earlier"

As my mother and I left my apt we took with us a large box that required both of us to carry.  Without missing a beat my mother, sees the new neighborman and exclaims, "You're a big strong man, why don't you help me and my daughter carry this to our truck."

The man took that big box with one hand and tossed it on his shoulders.  I was so turned on, I wanted to hump his leg right there in the hallway! 

As he loads the box effortlessly into the trunk my mother asks, are you the one moving into the apartment.  He answers, "No Ma'am" 

"No Ma'am!"  In just that instant the look on both our faces change.  We ignored him for the rest of the afternoon.  The disappointment hung thick in the air.  Worst part, what moved in was some chick with a yappy dog I wanna kick in the throat everytime I see it.      

LB
PS... I hope my new neighbor never reads this post!

40 Days of Lent... RS

I grew up Catholic although I'm not really practicing anymore.  During Lent Catholics famously give up something special or important to them for a 40 day time period which I believe symbolizes the 40 days Jesus spent in the desert when he was tempted by Satan.

While on the phone with my mother on Fat Tuesday (the day before Lent starts) she asked me what I was giving up for Lent.  At that point I told her that I have decided to give up being an miserable, angry human being...

Silence... before bellowing laughter....

"You can't make it one day without being angry about something or angry at someone.  We both know that."

I have no idea what that woman said the rest of the conversation because she could barely compose herself.

Thanks for being supportive of me Mom...

RS

From the mouths of babes... LB

My friends kids call me Uncle Leslie.  I do not bother to correct them. 
Children are honest and they call it as they see it.

LB

Smells like what.... LB

I suffer from chronic foot in mouth syndrome. 

One oarticularly gruesome flare up was during a funeral.  The service was over and everyone was leaving the cemetery.  I was in the car with the family, crackin jokes attempting to make everyone laugh.  I had everyone in the car laughing hysterically at what... I don't remember.  But then the foot in mouth syndrome hit. 

It was summer, so the car windows were down and what wafted in was one of the worst odors I've ever had to smell.  The first words out of my mouth were... wait for it... "UGH!  It smells like dead people in here."  Everyone just stopped for a second.  I was honestly contemplating jumping out the car window at the next light. 

The rest of the ride home was completely silent. 

Foot in Mouth 1286 / LB 0

LB

Lil Wayne on Line 1... RS

With the exception of me, my office team is fairly homogenous.  I’m pretty much the only dark spot up in this building.  Having worked in Corporate America for the better part of the last decade this is nothing to new to me and I’m really not bothered by it.  I don’t even notice it anymore… until some bullshit happens. 

So last Friday a girl on my team who is of the Caucasian persuasion wanted to exchange cell phone numbers because we had a big project due on Monday.  It seemed as if some weekend work was going to have to be done in order to finish the project, hence the exchange of the digits.  No problem.  She gave me her number and told me to call her right there so she would have mine... I did... And instead of a regular ring I heard…  wait for it… Lil Wayne… bumping through  the phone speakers.  She didn't hit the end button.... She just let it play....  I could see her thought process unfolding in her head....

"RS will think I'm hip and see that I have street cred.  He will recognize my gangsta and invite me into the black realm…"   

She stood there looking at me as if she was waiting for me to start bobbing my head and maybe dropped a few bars of my gangsta freestyle on her ass (or lack thereof).  I gave her none of it.  I didn’t even acknowledge that the song was playing.  I simply asked… “you got it?”  She acknowledged and walked away seemingly dejected. 

The really sad part about all this is that I never questioned her gangster.  Sever months back she successfully taught our boss to do the Stanky Leg in the hallway…  far better than I could have (see previous blog http://deuxlosers.blogspot.com/2009/11/office-dancing.html).

My life is a dumpster fire… 

RS

Singles Awareness Day ... LB

I just wanted to start by saying I do not recognize the holiday you call Valentines Day. What I do recognize is its sister holiday, Singles Awareness Day (SAD). I haven't actually recognized the holiday since 2nd grade.

Let me give you a run down of my V-Day experiences (there’s only 3)

2nd Grade
I was just a wee lass then, happily exchanging assorted valentines cards with candies stuck inside. When one little boy came up to me and said happy Valentine's Day and tried to come in for a kiss. I said "Ewww! You can't kiss me, you smell like cheese crackers"

Sidebar... He really did and I really do hate the smell of cheese crackers. You know the ones. They are Orange and have peanut butter in them. UGH GROSS!

Apparently, this really hurt his feelings and I was forced to stand in the corner and apologize. I do not see the justice in that. I was simply defending my right to not get cooties from a boy who smelled like cheesecrackers. 

Additional Sidebar... I spent a LOT of time in that corner staring at the chipping of the paint on the walls.

Update on cheesecracker boy:  I ran into his mother a little while ago and she told me ever since that incident he made her put cologne in his bath water. He is happily married now with a couple of kids. (He can thank me for that!)

First Boyfriend
I've actually never had an official Valentine. Never seemed to stay in a relationship long enough to experience it. (Don't cry for me Argentina) The closest I've ever come is with my very first boyfriend. We actually met after V-Day. We were on the phone and he was eating chocolates. Apparently, his V-Day had not gone so well. And as he sat on the phone eating the V-Day chocolates, meant for someone else, he said to me. If I had known you on V-Day, these would have been for you. He then proceeded to polish off the whole box during the rest of our phone conversation.

That moment was prob the single most romantic experience I had ever had.

Currently

I spend most Single Awareness Days with Ben and Jerry and a good movie (or whatever I've DVR'd over the past week.) This year was no different. As I sat on my living room furniture… i.e lawnchair (the doll furniture is on back order) catching up on old episodes of Modern Family and Burn Notice I realized, even if I was in a relationship the only thing that would change would be that the number of lawnchairs sitting in my living room eating Ben & Jerry's would increase by one.  

I Hate Valentines Day... RS

First of all, FUCK Valentine's Day!!!

That being said, last year I decided to spend a few hundred bucks of my hard earned cash to try to show my girlfriend a good Valentine’s Day Weekend. 

I decided on shopping and dinner in Georgetown.  Best combination of both on planet Earth if you ask me.  We got dressed up and hit M St. like we had money to burn.  We were in and out of shops and boutiques all afternoon before having a nice dinner at a great restaurant in the city. 

After all of that I did my best to keep her away from her cell phone because the last thing I needed was one of her friends calling her to tell her how great their man had treated them.  If that happens you spend the rest of the night getting compared to some fool you don’t even know.  With that done… I had made it through another V Day.

But wait, you knew that wouldn’t be the end.  The next morning she told me that she had a surprise for me.  Wow.  This is an interesting turn of events.  I certainly didn’t see this coming, but I liked the sound of it.

When we got in the car I finally gave in and asked where we were going and what her surprise was.  I didn’t expect her to tell me but I decided that I would play along.  This would prove to be a costly mistake.

"We are going to Couples Therapy...." she said....  "I think it’s long over due..."

HIT THE BREAKS.... STOP.... BACK THE FUCK UP...!!!!  WHAT??????

What the fuck did you just say???  We are going where and doing what?  For a brief moment it was as if the world around me had actually stopped moving.  The cars around us froze.  Birds stopped flying in mid air.  The wind ever stopped blowing.  It actually stopped blowing!  I could feel the anger starting to bubble up inside of me.  It wasn’t a slow burn either.  It was almost instantaneously a raging forest fire from Hell.  Within seconds I had already started plotting ways to kill this woman slowly.  Slow was key!  It was important that she have time to suffer adequately and gain a through understanding of how treachery and dishonesty do not go unpunished. 

Are you kidding me...?  After two days and nearly $300 of my hard earned cash this chick dreams up the absolutely ridiculous notion that it would be a good idea to pull me into couple’s therapy, thus implying that I have problems that need to be solved!!!  Is she nuts....?  Does she have any idea of what I'm capable of?  Does she even know who she’s dating?  Where did this courage and desire to die a slow, painful death come from?  Was she looking to become some sort of mythological martyr for women across the globe on Valentine’s Day? 

I was steaming on the inside.  I tried to appear as if I was all in favor of this therapy thing but I was failing miserably.  I could feel me face getting red with anger and hatred.  I looked down my fist were balled up, my knuckles where completely white.  I had even accidentally dug my nails into the palms of my hands.  I was trapped and there was no place for me to go.  My only option was to jump out of the car and tried to kill myself. But then she would not receive the suffering she was due.

We stopped at a stop light that seemed to stay red for hours.  Sitting in silence I stared at her with malice.  I could tell she wasn’t feeling so good about her plan anymore.  Beads of sweat formed on her forehead and her hands were shaking.  This brought quite a bit of joy to me and for a brief moment softened my rage.  She realized that this was the worst idea since Eve bit the apple.  It had dawned on her that this could very well be the end of her.  After what seemed like hours, the light finally turned green.

We pull into the parking lot after a 15 minute drive having said practically nothing the entire time.  My mind had switched gears from bringing an end to this woman’s life to how to make this therapy session a positive for me.  It came to me quickly.  I thought about all the shit she does that I hate and why.  My new plan was to walk in and blast the therapist with this information first!  I would make this session about her issues and not mine.  Striking first was key.  Anger seethed off of me.  I got out of the car and followed the little lamb to slaughter.

 

We got to the front desk and the receptionist handed me a clip board to fill out some personal information.  Good Lord.  Not only do I have to spill the intimate details of my relationship to a stranger but first I have to write all the shit on a piece of paper to be put in some filing cabinet.  More anger… more seething…

I started filling out the form but the questions seemed rather odd.  How stressful is your job?  How physical is your profession?  You often do you exercise?  Where do you hold the stress in your body?  This shit wasn’t making any sense to me... until I looked at the top of the form and read the letter head.  It was then that I realized that my evil girlfriend had brought me to...  Massage Envy... for Couples MASSAGE Therapy....

Fuck....  She got me.  And what’s worst was she knew she got me.  She knew I was furious and just sat there and let it ride.  I can’t believe I fell for that shit.  I guess I got what I deserved. 

Fuck Valentine’s Day and everything it stands for.

I hate my new apt... LB

I really hate my apartment!

On the real folks... moving is for the birds.  The next time I decide to move from one apt to the next I am going to burn everything I own and start from scratch.  Taking with me only my purses and shoes and assorted lip glosses as I have an addiction to them all.

I signed the lease on what is the 2nd smallest apt in Philadelphia, PA.  On the surface it looks nice, but when you actually spend more than 2 minutes inside you see the dream slowly unravel.  I should have known things weren't right, the day I recieved the keys.  As that was the day I learned I had NO WATER.  (that was only AFTER a trip to the bathroom)  Oh yea, and none of my appliances work. 

See, what had happened was.  I rented the model apartment.  So it included a few more bells and whistles than the other units.  But like most models, it was all a front.  None of the existing appliances were hooked up to plumbing or even plugged in.  I also had doors that didn't open, because this apartment was never intended to be lived in.  That was until they sold it to me! 

But I can't blame them, I used the same rationale to rent this apartment as I do for clothing and shoes.  Can I fit in it? Most importantly, does it look good?  Perhaps next time I will come up with a different set of criteria. 

This picture is a clear and precise depiction of how big my place is.  My apt is the small little room on the side where the little pink arrow is pointing to and that llittle girl, represents God having a good laugh at me. 

Lets start with my kitchen

My fridge:  I've seen coolers with no ice in the middle of a july cookout keep food cooler than this thing.  My freezer only keeps meats, vegetables and icecream cool - NOT FROZEN!  My freezer smells like the meat section of one of the questionable markets in bad neighborhoods.  Whenever you open the freezer it actually smells like warm meat. 

Moving onto the living room

The problem is not the size of my living room.
(pictured to the left.)
I have attempted TWICE to have furniture delivered to my apt.  Both attempts failed miserably.  Mainly because my apt is not life sized.  Two adults could not fit inside the same room of my apt comfortably.  (unless they were naked and had planned on rubbing against each other with every move they make)

The problem is this.  Please refer to picture below.  Don't let this picture fool you it is very inaccurate.  The blue arrow depicts my front door which could be no wider than about a foot.  The second red arrow is the entry way into my kitchen which is actually NARROWER than the front door.  The angle makes it look quite opposite.  Due to the space  - most couches need to come through both entry ways in order to pivot into the living room but when you have Alice in wonderland sized doors.  It makes that impossible.   

Considering my current dilemma,  I found a solution... doll furniture! I saw this finely crafted doll furniture online.  It's longest piece is about 6 inches long, and I think, with good spacial planning I can work it out.  I found this lovely set below for only $45.95 plus shipping and handling.  The couch length is equivalent to half a $5 footlong subway sandwich.    I really think it's a steal!  I also heard pottery barn kids is having a sale on bean bag chairs. 

 Currently this is the only piece of REAL SIZED living room furniture I own...  This lawnchair is the bomb.  I'm considering just buying a few more of these.  It's like being at an outdoor concert... everyday!

All in all, I cry every night, because I live in a sham of a apartment.  Month after month I pay for appliances that don't work.  A flat screen I will never be able to truly enjoy because I have no furniture to watch it on and my security alarm goes off in the middle of the night for no reason.  Causing me to wake up ready to kill only to find it was a false alarm.   

LB

Who would have guessed... LB

I bought a new wireless router for the apartment.  The first one was a dud.  Thanks Walmart! 
I repurchased the same router from Best Buy.  Lo and Behold... it was working a lot better than first.  It was still not functioning but at least the lights turned on for this one. 

So I call my friendly international technical assistance.  Yes this man was definitely Indian.  A lot of people have very strong opinions about overseas customer service agents.  But I will say this for the record.  I believe that India is the SMARTEST nation in the world.  I do not know how anything I own would function if there wasn't some sweet knowledgeable techincal assistant rep to make it work after I broke it.   But I digress. 

I thought I was going to have to replace the second router after it too failed to function.  But turns out, I had changed the name of the network to something that was not compatible.  Apparently, NO DIGGITY NO DOUBT, is not a suitable name for the router.  Although I feel he is grately mistaken!
What even worse is when you have to spell out that name to the internation customer service agent.  N-as-in-Nancy O-as-in-Oh maybe-I-shouldn't-have-named-it-this.  As is is extremely hard to keep a straight professional tone over the phone when you're laughing at having the customer service agent repeat back your stupid network title.

LB

Independent Woman…

Many of you may be wondering… where’s LB been.

The answer is… in apartment hell.

I am for the first time living independently no parents, no roommate just me!   Now that we've got the good stuff out the way, lets bring our attention back to the oh so many things that go wrong.  Today's story is about my first big purchase for the place... My new bed frame.

Yea that's the bed alright... It's a lot more comfortable than it looks!

My bed is wonderful,  a comfortable, cozy hideaway retreat as I call it. But me and the bed were not always on such loving terms. I purchased this bed from … and don’t judge me… IKEA! I have a love/hate relationship with that store. But I went against all good sense and bought the bed. The instructions CLEARLY stated, two people are required to complete the construction of this purchase. I did not belive them, but I should have. Even getting the pieces out of the box were difficult. But none the less I had perceivered. After 8 hours (the box called for 2hr assembly with two people) I was finished. I simply fell back on the bed arms up in a sense of triumph and female empowerment. (cue: Independent woman song playing in my head) When All of a sudden I heard a crack, followed by a snap, and about 3-4 pops and I was suddenly on the floor. The bed had crumbled underneath me. I wanted to cry. Instead I kicked the bed and jammed my toe. Then I cried! (cue: Whitney Houstons - Why Does it Hurt So Bad)

The next day I got all Bob Villa on it and installed steel beams underneath the bottom of the bed for added support. Yeah, that’s right! I did it! (cue: Independent woman song once again playing in my head) I promise you it’s been the best sleep I’ve had ever since.

Take that IKEA. (Mind you, with my “added improvements” I have voided the warranty so this thing better last me 5 years or I’m screwed. So actually, now that I think about it… IKEA just got me…. AGAIN!) Damn the Swiss!