More from the "what could go wrong?" department

So, every day since this whole moving thing has come into play, something has gone wrong. At first it was a little funny, but now I'm wondering what I did to piss off karma so much (I'm also questioning the training of people who answer phones at various utility companies. I'm sure they're all very nice people. I'm just sayin').

The first thing to go wrong:
-The very morning after I sent in a form telling the postal service to start forwarding my mail September 1 (let's say that was around August 23), I checked my often-neglected mailbox. I saw the mail in there, wondered what the important-looking envelope was, and left it in there to pick up after work. After work, I return to collect my mail and the box is empty, junk mail and all.

The second thing to go wrong:
-I wake up to no hot water in my current apartment. I panic, thinking LADWP has turned off my power, and then realize that I've just been woken by the radio alarm and the lights are all on.

The third thing to go wrong:
-I call MCI, who provides both local and long-distance service to me, to tell them I'm moving and would like to cancel my phone service as of September 4. The guy says, "Okay, your phone service is now canceled." I say, "As of September 4, right?" He says, "Yeah, September 4." I go home the next night and attempt to call Chicago. My long-distance service has been disconnected (but not my local, so tell me what went wrong there).

The next thing to go wrong:
-I call to update my address on my car insurance. The guy tells me my premium will not increase. Woo! Something's gone right! I come home to a voicemail telling me he was wrong, and in fact, they'll be asking for an additional $800 annually. But, in order to get that message, I had to practically jump through hoops because my usual MCI voicemail retrieval system had been disconnected. Oh, and that day when I came home, I checked my mail on a whim. The junk mail and Time magazine reappeared, but not the real mail.

The next thing to go wrong:
-The day after I call Citi Cards to change my billing address, I try to use the card at a gas station. I input my new zip code, the machine rejects it, and makes me go inside to pay.

The next thing (which brings us up to today, just now in fact) to go wrong:
-I get home to a voicemail from Citi Cards about fraudulent activity on my credit card. It turns out there's an extra $100 charge on my card from that gas station, which may or may not show up on my bill according to the guy on the phone. Someone remind me to check my next bill carefully, please.

It's been an interesting week.

Did I mention I'm moving?

Holy shit, I've been up and down the apartment stairs about, oh, a million times today. I went to Goodwill, packed another half dozen boxes, and cleared my closet of excess hangers. Did you know that I have more shoes than will fit in a Dell computer box? Yeah, and to think, I just bought a 10-pair hanging shoe bag. Talk about miscalculations! Anyway, I (we) need help! We gotta cover windows and floors and there are waaay too many choices out there! I spent an hour in Linens 'n' Things touching duvet covers and sheets and curtains and rugs. And I'm tired, did I say that part?

Oh, I highly, HIGHLY recommend doing an annual cleaning (spring cleaning, if you will). It's amazing what'll accumulate in your home. I still have a box of shit that I never unpacked from the last time I moved...and I still don't know what to do with it. The thing of it is, it's a box of toys I got from the VERY LARGE COMPANY I used to work for. Anyway, I was friends with the receptionist in the Toys department and she gave me some stuff off their sample shelf. Now, I THINK these are actual samples before they were manufactured and released to the public (there's a typo or two on one of the boxes), so they MAY be worth something, but how can I find out? I can't very well go on eBay and say "I snatched these off the sample shelf of [VERY LARGE COMPANY]," can I? I mean, I don't know exactly if they're samples that differ from what was released or what, so I don't know what to do with them. I guess I could just give them away. How much could they be worth? (*cue Brady Bunch fade-to-future-music*-- Woman on the news: "And can you believe that the sale of this little [HUGE MONEY-MAKING ANIMATED FILM] toy I got from Goodwill in 2005 enabled me to buy this very large beach house and cheese platter?") Any suggestions?

Today's '80s packing background movie: Lucas. I don't think I ever need to see it again. I'm just saying.

Some kind of what-the-eff

So, I'm in a jungle of boxes right now, and the only thing saving me from going nuts has been my self-imposed '80s movies marathon (thanks, TiVo for your suggestions). Last night was The Karate Kid; now it's Some Kind of Wonderful. You know, watching it now, though it remains one my favorites for sentimental reasons, this movie is a little cuckoo bananas (as, I guess, all '80s teen movies were). I mean, seriously, if some guy you hardly knew asked you out and took you on this over-the-top first date that included a rented fancy car with your friend as chaffeur, dinner at a fancy restaurant (with caviar!), breaking into the art museum, seeing a painting he did of you hanging in said art museum, a trip to the Hollywood Bowl (while no one else is there...can you say "date rape"?), and gave you a pair of diamond earrings he tells you he spent his entire life savings on, would you a) kiss him and think he's the man you've been looking for, or b) grab your mace and run screaming? Yeah, me too! And, if I'm the tomboy friend who's in love with the guy, do I want the earrings he bought for the other girl when he finally decides he wants to be with you instead? Hell, no! Buy me something new, bitch!

Okay, gotta pack more shit now.

Thanks for joining me for another edition of (okay, the first, and possibly only, edition of) '80s Movie Minute.

Blow me (my nose, I mean)

I've got the flu (that's not the secret; we'll get there in a minute, though it's anticlimatic because I'm sure you know already). I stayed home all day and felt very bad. Thanks for the sympathy. I'm still deciding about tomorrow's plan. I hate to use another day off work, but if I must, I must, right?

Anyway, drumroll.....N and I are moving in together. But you knew that already, right? There's a lot to do, so anyone who has any suggestions for movers, or Direct TV versus cable, or high-speed internet providers, or getting rid of a bed and refrigerator, or packing tips, bring 'em on! If we're lucky and we get our asses in gear, we should be doing this Labor Day Weekend. God help us all.

I know something you don't know

Do you ever have a secret that's not really a secret but something you know and that you have to let other people know but you like holding onto it by yourself for a little bit so it's still kinda like a secret? (Come on, that makes sense--read it again!) Anyway, I have that. But I think by the time you read this it'll be getting around, so you probably know already. Cool, eh?

Cup o' Random

Something N alerted me to today that's been puzzling me all day: Cup o' Noodles is actually called Cup Noodles, no "o." It's true, look it up. (Doesn't that site look like a kid's fansite? I'm pretty sure it's official, though.) Anyway, how did we all start calling it Cup o' Noodles? We all do, right? Did it once have the "o"? If so, what happened to it? Too Irish for a Japanese food? Thoughts? Comments?

Wait! Hold the phone! I did my own damn research on that site (isn't it nice how I saved you the trouble?). Here, it explains that the product was renamed in 1993. But why, Nissin? Why??

On my way home from Dinner with Dad (yes, that's Wednesday's proper name around here), I saw this: A big gold Cadillac being driven by a middle-aged man. The other seats were filled with a bunch of teenage goth girls, all bopping their dyed-black hair to whatever they were forcing the dad to play on the radio. The one in the back blew me a kiss out the window as I passed her. Kinda funny.

Speaking of teenage girls, how bad do you hate every girl on My Super Sweet 16? What? You're not watching? Oh, please do. Then we can discuss.

What goes on in Vegas...

So, I just returned from three nights in Vegas with Mom. Without going into detail (my mom wouldn't stop incorrectly using the phrase "What goes on in Vegas, stays in Vegas" no matter how many times I said, "It's happens! What happens in Vegas..."), Vegas in the summer is like being in a steamy, retarded cattle farm. America is fat and slow and old. Seriously. Take a good look around Vegas and you can see why other countries hate us so much. I was so happy to be on my own without a crowd or noise or smoke around me once I got home that I don't know if I can make it outside for work again tomorrow.

I lost all my money, ate at only one buffet, had only one friggin' drink, and sweated my way down the Strip. We did manage to visit Wynn, which is quite fabulous, if you like that sort of thing (did I tell you about the $50 breakfast? Berries, an omelet, an orange juice, and two coffees. Fifty bucks.), and the huge, nicely air-conditioned mall. Oh, and took a ride on the crappy monorail that takes longer to walk to in the back of hotels than the distance it takes you down the Strip. Sorry, I guess I'm a little pissy about the whole thing right now. Maybe I'll write nicer things tomorrow. But then again, I have to go to work early for a meeting about a menopause booklet, so how good a mood will I be in then??