As we know from last Friday, all the hot guys hang out at Lowe's. I'm still wigging out about that one. Much less to say, I'm never setting foot inside a hardware store again without doing my damndest to make sure I'm as close to supermodel as possible. Oy, hot guys hang out at hardware stores...need to remember that. It does make sense, I mean, that's where the stuff that's interesting to them is. Give a place tools and/or a sporting event and the feral man-beasts are there en masse.
Speaking of feral man-beasts, yeah...the movers I had scheduled for September 4th at 10am failed to show. Noon rolled by, still no movers. By the time 11am hit, I was on the phone to the moving company. It seems as the three-man crew that was supposed to be moving me were stuck in Pahrump, NV on a big office move. According to the dispatcher at the moving company, they wouldn't arrive at my house until close to 3pm. Ok, let's set the record straight, they were supposed to be there at 10am, but I'm supposed to be okay with the fact that they weren't going to be there until at least 3pm? Um, no. So at hearing the agitation in my voice, the dispatcher (in his crack smoking world) decided it would be okay to send a two-man crew to my apartment at 2:30 in the afternoon.
What showed up at my door still boggles my mind. A little man that was shorter than my statuesque (lol) 5'5" build shows up at my door along with another young man who was a lanky, non-muscular criminal with bad teeth who looked like he was so strung out on meth it hurt. I was fortunate enough to have with me at the apartment my apartment complex's assistant manager and his girlfriend Mary. The first words out of Mary's mouth was "how in hell is that lanky kid supposed to move all that furniture?" I was with Mary, there was no way that kid and his short sidekick were going to get my seven foot long leather sofa and masses of furniture out the door, down the stairs, up another set of stairs and into my new apartment. It looked shady and oh were we both right.
At seeing how agitated I was, the lanky criminal looks at me and says, "I see you're pretty frustrated at my company already, so why don't you cancel the contract and I'll come back later and move everything myself." My jaw dropped. I couldn't believe that criminal was exactly what I had pegged him as from the get-go. Here it is that the company he works for doesn't get the time right for the movers to show up, but then they send a criminal who has no compunction about screwing his company over by trying to unethically deal under the table? The words out of my mouth said it all. "I don't think so." So, we move on to getting the contract set up to give over my payment for the job and so forth. I had negotiated the movers with a man named Kelly on the phone, who when I asked if they accepted American Express for the move said, "Yes, we take American Express." I confirmed it with him four or five times over, making sure he KNEW that my Amex was the only way I could pay for the move. Four and five times over he reassured me, "yes, we take American Express," so reassured and happy, I went about packing and preparing. Well, wouldn't you know it, the minute I hand over my gold Amex to the criminal, he said, "Oh, we don't take American Express." My face flamed, my patience went from all-time-high to zero in a heartbeat. I looked at him and said, "Get your boss on the phone NOW. I was assured many times that you do take American Express." The criminal gets on the phone and sure enough, what do I hear, the dispatcher telling me, "No, we can't process it until Wednesday." I raged. Between them not showing up then the meth criminal trying to line his pockets with my money, then lying through their teeth about the payment form I could use, I had had enough. When they refused my Amex, I looked at them and said, "Bye," and threw them out. Mary looked at me and nodded her approval while my apartment complex assistant manager said, "If I wouldn't have seen that with my own eyes, I wouldn't have believed it."
Ok, well, let's just say over the course of this blog we've seen people screw me over to high heaven, and well, with my new space and my belongings, no one is screwing me over ever again. I put my foot down. So with the criminal moving company walking away without a single one of my dimes in their pocket, I sat down in my demolished office and called another moving company who could get movers out the following day, Sunday. Going over the fact that my American Express was my only form of payment several times with the new movers and telling the story of what had happened that afternoon, the man at the new moving company was much more honest about what their policies were for payment and so forth. With a hopeful sigh, I booked the new movers for 8am the following morning then let my complex's assistant manager know what was going on. He went home as I decided to make a few more trips over to my new apartment with several armloads of goods, then it was to the showers, the bookstore and a nice meal so that I could recuperate for a bit before the real movers showed up.
I've been waiting anxiously for Sherrilyn Kenyon's new book "No Mercy" for a while now. Every day I've been checking her site to see what the countdown read. Ah, nothing like a new Dark Hunter book to set the mood for the new place. As I saw the release date was drawing near, I took a shot and headed down to my local
candy, um I mean bookstore to pick up the latest release. But, alas, no cigar. Saturday just wasn't a great day for me as I found out that the release date for "No Mercy" was on Tuesday, September 7th. "Tuesday?" I wailed at the salesgirl in Barnes and Noble. "Yep," she said, "you're going to have to wait until Tuesday." Well, that was no good! I had no cable, no internet, no technology whatsoever! What was I supposed to read? All of my other Kenyon's were already boxed, sealed and sitting in a box at my parents! I had zero when it came to any sort of entertainment, so I wandered over to the romance aisle to see if there was anything by Ms. Kenyon I hadn't read yet, and I did find something. Sherrilyn Kenyon writes several series...the Dark Hunters I love so much, there's one series called "The League" where it's something like a cross between Blade Runner, Star Wars and a bodice ripper, then I happened upon the "BAD" Series...yes, "Bureau of American Defense", ok yeah, I know what you're thinking, horrible name, but it's Sherrilyn, it'd be better than reading Jude Deveraux, so what the hell, I picked up one called, don't laugh, "Bad Attitude". Ok, now, I'll be the first to tell you, I've got a couple of Tom Clancy's on the shelf...but I'm not that big into army rah-rah. Mother is still trying to get me to enlist in the army and I finally had to tell her, "Mom, I'm over 35, they're not going to take me." I know she's got fantasies of life in uniform, but I sure as hell don't. I want to be an advertising executive, not some chick squat-peeing in some third world country. No offense to the men and women in uniform, I truly appreciate what you guys do to keep me and the country safe, but really, me? In uniform? Um, NO. But, there I was with a Tom Clancyish bodice ripper in my hands.
Do you know it only takes me four and a half hours to go through 321 pages? Yep. "Bad Attitude" had 321 pages, I started it at dinner at 6:45pm and I finished it by 11pm. At that point, I was wiped out from the day's depressing events, so I turned out the light and fell fast asleep.
8am the following morning came far too early for me. I was already wiped out, my arms and legs were sore, the tendinitis in my right elbow was singing and I couldn't believe the fact that I promptly killed the alarm that was supposed to wake me up at 7am only to be woken up again another phone call. It was the movers. They arrived at 8am sharp. It was a good sign as I struggled to wake up and let them in my gated community. By the time I drove up to the front of the complex, someone else had already driven through the gate and let them in. I drove quickly around the corner to find the truck lost in the sea of apartment buildings that make up my complex. I beeped my horn and waved frantically as I pull up alongside of the truck to see a handsome man who could have easily jumped out of one of Sherrilyn Kenyon's Dark Hunter novels. My jaw dropped.
I motioned the Dark Hunter-looking driver to follow me and as I pulled my car into my parking spot, the Dark Hunteresque driver hops down out of the truck. I mean even Sherrilyn couldn't have written this guy better. There he was, easily 6'3, covered in tattoos, muscles bulging, the whole nine yards, complete with long hair and a goatee. He looked dangerous as all hell and you could tell there was a Harley-Davidson in his garage. I pinched myself to find out I wasn't dreaming when he strode confidently into my front door. At this point I was still struggling to wake up. I couldn't have gotten coherent if my life had depended on it, but there was my own "Dark Hunter" kneeling in front of my shoe rack putting together paperwork. I handed over my American Express to find out, YES! They took American Express! I was excited about that, even though my grogginess couldn't have displayed it. Truth told, I was wondering how in hell I could end up with a Dark Hunter as one of my movers...it was then I decided...
I was having a Romance Novel Hangover.
You know, you can drink champagne get a good buzz and sleep it off, ending up with a headache. You can drink any sort of alcoholic beverage and you'll either be hungover, sick to your stomach and all other sorts of whathaveyou. No, when you have a romance novel hangover, you end up with a gorgeous guy at your front door that you keep rubbing your eyes and wondering if you're dreaming or still reading. Yeah. I stood on my balcony watching this gorgeous guy, all sinew and muscle, move my things. I was convinced I was still in the book. Anyhow, my apartment complex's assistant manager showed up again to help supervise and move things around and he kept seeing me staring off at this gorgeous mover. He kept waving his hand in front of my face telling me to wake up for me only to reply I was having a romance novel hangover.
Well, with all hangovers, you know there's a headache just around the corner for you. My friend the assistant manager decides to tell the guy that I'm digging on him! OMG! FACEPALM! Oy, that was one thing I didn't need. Yeah, instead of Mr. Tall, Dark and Handsome asking me out on a date, we find out the guy has a girlfriend and two kids. Yeah, my hangover kicked in right then and I had one hell of a headache. So much for happy endings, right? LOL.
Seven hours later, everything in the apartment got moved. It's all now sitting in boxes around the living room as I'm at my new temporary workspace, my kitchen table. It's not so bad really. The space, it's mine alright and it looks like a tornado hit it with boxes galore, a kitchen which needs to be organized and work in just eight short hours.
Best news of all is that I joined a student organization at school today...the ASC, Association of Students in Communication. I got to meet the director of the on-campus student-run advertising agency, and to boot, remember that invitation-only campaigns class I wanted to get into? Well, I met it's professor today and I'll probably get to take that class next semester! DROOL! OMG! Me actually getting in the trenches and getting to work with fellow students to create a campaign? I'm ready to faint!
Anyhow, I'm behind right now in Journalism 101, I've not watched my two lectures and I'm behind by two chapters and I've got a test on Friday on the material, so I've got to go. Reading to do! Things to accomplish!
OMG! What a week! Well, gals, just remember, no romance novels before the movers show up. Romance novel hangovers are a bitch!