Urban Planning

Lexington did a mad dash to improve the downtown street scape before the World Equestrian Games. So they repaved (thus making me fight the urge to throw up bile every time I left work) and prettied up the sidewalks doing I don't know what.

However, someone in the (urban) planning office did some miscalculations...
Behold.

The traffic lanes before:

The lanes lined up and there were no lines in the intersections because the lanes lined up.

And even though they didn't move any of the buildings' facades (you don't have to be a designer to understand why you can't simply move an entire building), or give us any additional lanes or take any traffic lanes away...

The traffic lanes after:

The lanes clearly don't line up, and they had to put guide lines through the intersections because of it.

Planner fail. (Perhaps they are an Itt tech grad?)

Sophomore Snots

It's been a while since I've done just a judge to be judgy post hasn't it?

Have you ever notice how awful sophomores are? Seriously, they're just annoying little piss ants. They know everything since they've "done the college thing" for a whole year now. They're always, always the one who tries to argue with the teacher or start a debate in class but all they do is stir sh*t up.

Yeah, these kids are roughly 10 years younger than me, so by default they fall into they will annoy me category. And usually when something/one annoys me, I place an unwarranted judge to be judgy judgment on them for my own personal fun.

There's this one girl in my inequalities class who is always confrontational in her comments and tries to start a debate. Needless to say, I don't like her, and neither does anyone else. Plus she dresses in pseudo grunge/emo way, and, ugh, she's just giving me more ammo.

In fairness I do know that most 19 year olds are just that, 19 and young*. And young people are just trying to find their place and "who they are," and the wise assness just comes with the territory. But that doesn't stop me from rolling my eyes and dismissing that girl every time she opens her mouth (which is often).

*I know I was very typical 19 year old. Though I didn't argue with the teachers or my classmates. But then again, I've never been a confrontational type of girl either.

Real Estate Makes Me Stabby

Considering how much I hate apartment hunting, I figured house hunting would be along the same vein. After one day of tagging along with my dr friend last summer as she house hunted, I was exhausted. So I knew when it came time for me to be a grown up and own property, I was in for an arduous (which, btw, is my new fave word) process.

I like the concept of house hunting. Going into other people's homes and judging (what?), knowing you can change ugly, all the possibilities, and the excitement of finding a place to call your own and place to come home to. That sounds cozy and homey and totally squee!

But the actual hunting? Uhhhh. It's much more taxing than I had anticipated. Not to mention the financial aspect of it is about as clear as mud. While I didn't expect the process to be as fun and carefree as running through a field of daisies, (which, way fun!) it's certainly not as idealistically romantic as you hope it will be either.

So, to all you house hunters out there: god speed. May you find something you love with little process. Or, or, you can always go the way I did. Which is to have your boyfriend buy himself a house, then you claim a spot in the garage and make plans of what colors you want to paint the place. Thus, I avoid the stabby of real estate and I get to live with my favorite socasauraus. It's a win win for me. (The financial aspect if still clear as mud though. But I'll figure that out soon enough)

Name Calling

On my birthday I found out that my friend's dad had a first name.

Me: Your dad's name is Bob?
friend: yeah... always has been...
me: I don't think I knew that.
dr soc: wait, you didn't know his name? What had you been calling him?
me: Mr Train!

Call me old fashioned, but I was taught as a girl you call adults by Mr and M(r)s so-and-so until they tell you other wise. So if I was introduced to someone as a kid (or high school student) and they were mr and mrs so-and-so then, to this day still call them mr and mrs so-and-so, because they have not told me other wise. (w/the exception of my other friend's parents. Them I've always called Daddy and Mommy P)

This Is Why We're Friends

me: have you seen the previews for the movie Burlesque?
dr friend: no, what's it about?
me: it has Christina Aguilera and Cher.
dr friend: we're there.


http://www.sonypictures.com/previews/movies/burlesque/clips/2596/

Stuff

Both times that I've visited dr soc in Charlotte I've moved a few (snort) things to him in the same trip. Which no big deal, except when he wants me to bring something that's oddly shaped.

The first trip he wanted his vacuum cleaner, which I had a whale of a time getting in the car. It's bulky and awkward. I was running an hour behind schedule, had a 7 hour drive ahead of me, and my dad was trying to help but was just getting in the way not to mention was the reason I was an hour behind schedule. My mood was testy to say the least. So here I am, trying to shove his stupid vacuum cleaner in the backseat of my rental car, when it slips and jambs my finger and drew a little bit of blood plus a string of curse words. I then start cursing at him in North Carolina (where he can't hear me), and informed the moving gods that he better vacuum ever god d*mn day for all the trouble this mother f*cker was giving me.

Having not learned my lesson, the second trip, I brought him more stuff. This time it was some extra bedding in this giant tupperware crate and a filing cabinet. They were just a little too big to get into the trunk, but they fit in the back seat, so that was fine. However, this time, the weaselly bastard piece of furniture was the ironing board. Because it won't bend and is just a little too big to fit in the trunk as well. With some angling, trickery and brute force, (and cursing, of course), I managed to get that in the car and be on my way.

So I call him to tell him I'm on the road and to give an eta, but of course I give an account of all the injustices his stuff gave me as well. What kind of helpful girlfriend would I be if I didn't. And after wresting with the ironing board and definitely coming out more worse for the wear, I decided I'm not taking any more stuff. Because "you're stuff has the inherent ability to to pissing me off!"