SHUT UPPP

My car is amazing. For starters, her name is Dirty Girl, she's always messy and only gets washed when it rains, and she's got a nekkid Dirty Girl air freshener hanging from the rearview mirror. Which I can't find any more of so if anybody sees some or knows where I can get some hook it up. ANYWAY - she's also a PSYCHIC. About three days ago I got in the car and the little display that shows the odometers and how much oil I have left had a little message for me: CHECK FUEL CAP. Ok...? So I hopped out and checked the gas tank - nope, everything's fine! Weird. I turned the car back on, same message. So I did what I always do when I get messages that seem unimportant, I ignored it. Every time I turned the car on after that there it was, though, reminding me to check the fuel cap that had nothing obviously wrong with it. Lots of theories floated through my head: This is a ploy from the manufacturer to make me take it in to get it checked out and they're gonna tell me I need about $600 worth of repairs. Those shady kids that hang out in the parking lot messed with my car and replaced my gas cap with Pogs. (Do kids still play with Pogs? Get off my lawn!) There's actually something wrong with the car and the wheels are going to fall off at any second. You know, the usual stuff that runs through your head.
D and I decided that we were just going to let Dirty Girl act weird and quirky and when we take her in to get the visor fixed (long story...) we'll ask them about it. Sure enough, for the next two days every time I turned the car on there it was: CHECK FUEL CAP. So weird!! And then yesterday I had to stop for gas on my way to the gym. I was rushing to cycling class so I only put about half a tank in and hopped back in the car and there was the message again, telling me to check the fuel cap. But wait...something felt different this time. I carefully retraced my steps in my head: swiped the credit card, fueled up, got a receipt, put the fuel hose away, got back in the car and drove away. That's right. I left the gas tank open with the cap dangling in the wind as I drove all the way to the gym. Holy crap. And my car warned me about it three days ago. Coincidence, that the car gives a random nonsensical message about the gas cap two days before I accidentally drive off with the gas cap open for the first and only time ever? Or was it...psychic car? I think the second one.

How To Be Awesome #434: Put out a kitchen fire.

That's right, remember when I told you all those things about how my appliances are trying to kill/maim me? They went for the throat last week. I was hanging out in the living room with the Pug when I smelled something burning. I was kind of a weird kid back in the day so I'm familiar (or was back then at least) with the smell of melting plastic (I don't have to explain to you!). Anyway - I start wandering around in search of said melting plastic smell when I realize it's coming from the dishwasher. CRAP! It was on the "auto dry" setting or whatever where it heats up and dries your dishes for you so I grabbed the fire extinguisher which is inconveniently located in the sink, on the other side of the potential fire. Suck! I spent WAY too long examining the fire extinguisher trying to figure it out, making sure I knew which pin to pull, how to actually fire the thing, and which direction to point it in. Yeah that's right, I have total faith in the idea that my dishwasher can contain a fire for as long as it takes me to figure out the frickin fire extinguisher, what up? Anyway, I eventually opened the dishwasher and sure enough, there was a plastic lid to one of those Tupperware containers, burning away down at the bottom of the dishwasher, making all my stuff smell like gross burning plastic. It was totally not worthy of the fire extinguisher so I just grabbed a nearby cup of water and tossed it down in the bottom of the dishwasher. BOO! And then the apartment smelled like melted plastic for about four hours. But I'm a firefighter now and it's awesome.

I talked Griff into going to get our asses kicked this morning in a boot camp class. Fun! Wait, what's the opposite of fun? Anyway - We're standing around before class talking about some weird crap that happened last night (I'm sure that'll pop up on the blog soon) and suddenly Griff shoots me a Look. I glanced around and then I figured out what it meant: 1987 called, they want their music video wardrobe back. SERIOUSLY. Do you remember Jazzercise? How about Jessie, Kelly, and Lisa's music video from Saved By The Bell? This lady's outfit would have made any of them jealous. I don't know if words will convey the awesome. She had on turquoise bicycle shorts under a purple and blue leotard (LEOTARD!) with bright orange socks and white tennis shoes. Amazing! Where do you even get turquoise bike shorts and leotards anymore? I've got to hand it to her though, my ass would not look good in the outfit she was rockin. Then she velcro-ed on some of those ankle weight thingies to each leg, but apparently the strain was too much because she only did about half of the stuff the class was doing. Here's a tip: Take off the ankle weights. Now go change your clothes.

With yesterday's post about a big crime FAIL, I had to post an amazing crime WIN today! I don't know who did this (If it was you e-mail me you're my new BFF!) but it's quite possibly the most awesome thing ever to happen to road signs in Austin. Things to watch out for in Austin: Hippies, Leslie, and Nazi Zombies. Whoever you are, I effing love you, man. Or lady.



And suck it, people who say it's a "hazard". The roads are confusing enough without your "helpful" detour signs; I'd way rather be warned about the zombies than "MLK Closed Ahead...Still...After Three Months...Use 15th Instead...Still."

AND it's the Top Story. Even better. I love you, Universe. Sorry I was mad at you the other day - we're cool. <3

Who says there's nothing good in the newspaper? Or in this case the "online newspaper". I was goofing off on the Statesman's website and guess what I found: 1 of 2 thong-facemask robbery suspects sentenced. NOT A JOKE! These guys actually (kind of hilariously) robbed a store with women's thongs on their faces. You know, as a disguise. I like to think it went down like this:

Robber #1: You know, our usual getups are so uncomfortable and frumpy. I'm tired of putting pantyhose over my head and my ski mask's in the wash! What to do?
Robber #2: Want to try boxer-briefs?
Robber #1: No, man, how are we supposed to see?
Robber #2: We could try some sheer lingerie? Or something lacy?
Robber #1: I've got it: THONGS!
Robber #2: Oh dude that's perfect! You wear blue, I'll wear green!

And the rest is history. I wish I could find a surveillance photo so I could put it on Failblog. It's probably best that they're getting locked up; these guys were due for a Darwin Award.

OMG I suck at checkout lines. I don't get it! Does this happen to everybody? If you ever, ever see me in a store and I've got fewer than ten things in my hands and I'm headed for the checkout line, run the other way or at least make sure you avoid my line at all costs. Last night, Dale needed to pick up one thing, ONE THING, at Wal-Mart. Now, this might be karma because Wal-Mart is the Eevilest, most horrible corporation, but somebody sent D's work a Wal-Mart gift card and so he was using it to help pay for a Wii, which they're using as a prize for their casino night coming up on Thursday at work. It was after 10:00 pm when we got there so we wandered over to the electronics and found what we needed. Capitalism win! Oh but wait, we still have to check out. There was one person in front of us, and of course the cashier (Who definitely had the "Wal-Mart" look and wasn't far from being what some of my friends might consider "not a real person".) can't figure out how to ring up the one item the lady in front of us has. Seriously? EVERY FREAKING TIME! Finally after about seven minutes of futile attempts, the cashier calls for reinforcements and a person with a key comes and helps her ring up the DVD player or whatever it was. Great! Fantastic! Our turn. S...he? I'm pretty sure? She? Maybe "he" but I finally decided I think it was a she. With the super scary meth teeth. Anyway, the cashier rings us up, D goes to use the gift card annnnd...FAIL. Like, the whole machine does something weird, it won't authorize the gift card, and (of course) it's taking forever. I wandered off to look at random stuff (You can buy Space Camp AND WarGames in a two-pack for $7.50 at Wal-Mart! It's how the evil empire sucks you in!) and when I get back they still haven't figured it out. The cashier goes "Sorry, I'm a new cashier, let me call customer service..." and finally another person with a key shows up, fixes it, and we get out of there. But WTF?! Why does Wal-Mart have a new person working in electronics by themselves? And WHYYYY does that crap happen to me every time I have to buy something? Suck it, Universe.

The Movie: Taken
Seen On: I don't remember At: Alamo Drafthouse Lake Creek With: Dale & Ben, my movie buddies!
Who's In It: Liam Neeson, Famke Janssen, Maggie Grace
In 100 Words: “Taken” happens because seventeen year old Kim and her mom convince her retired-spy dad that she should go to Europe with her friend Amanda. Cautious Dad’s instincts were right: Kim and Amanda are kidnapped from their apartment by Albanian human traffickers. Luckily, she’s on the phone with Dad when it all goes down, and gives him enough info to begin his search. Then he must use all his special ninja-spy skills to break up the trafficking ring and retrieve Kim before she is sold to an Arab sheikh as a sex slave (no, really, that’s what is going to happen).
It's Kind Of Like: The Bourne movies, Ransom, and every episode of CSI ever.
Running Time: 1 hour, 33 minutes. Feels Like: That's about right.
Favorite Quote: "That is what happens when you sit behind a desk. You forget things, like the weight in the hand of a gun that's loaded and one that's not." Pretty badass, actually.
Sucker Punch Count: At least 60, I completely lost count.
How It Changed My Life: I totally want to be a ninja spy now.
I'd Recommend This Movie For: People who care more about watching exciting fight sequences instead of being critical of writing or, in some cases, acting; adrenaline junkies
Final Rating: 4 Awesomes (Out of 5). Definitely not bad.

Have I mentioned yet that Griff and I re-joined the gym? We tricked them into giving us a family plan so it was pretty economical and we've been committed to actually going several times a week. Our favorite class is kickboxing on Thursday with Abel who will kick your ass and not be sorry, but we've gotten brave and ventured into some others. Yoga, spinning, dance. Yeah you read that right: our North Austin gym that caters mostly to middle class, middle aged, white people has a dance class on Saturday mornings. It was Griff's idea to drop by last week and as we stood there in the back with the adorable little instructor giving us the overview ("We're gonna start with the routine that our dance team does for the Austin Toros and if it's your first time don't worry you might feel a little lost but you'll pick up the choreography and then we'll move into a couple of other routines that are a little bit easier!") Griff turned to me and said "NONE OF THIS GOES IN YOUR BLOG!"

Sorry! I waited as long as I could, but this has to be said. White people in large groups = generally not the best dancers. I'm not really sure how to convey the visual, it was like trying to teach circus tricks to retarded alley cats. People were spinning the wrong way, tripping over their feet, at one point I just kind of made something up, the instructor and the two girls from the dance team were doing their thing up front and everybody else was just kind of...out of control, Griff and I were laughing (at ourselves as much as other people) and maybe only one or two of the people in that room actually had any rhythm at all. And all of this with Jennifer Lopez blasting over the speakers. Best class ever.

Dear Bridal Shop,
This is the hardest letter I've ever had to write. Ok, that's not entirely true, but I did suffer some writer's block while trying to come up with it. I don't know how to say this but...we've been together for two long, long years, and, well, I think we should see other people. I can't tell you what the past 24 months have meant to me, I've learned so much: what never to say to a bride, how to ignore it when bridesmaids are bitchy to you, the mechanics and processes of special order placement and fulfillment, serious conflict resolution, how to dodge shoes, wallets, lipstick, and other projectiles that are sometimes thrown at your head, how to delicately tell a woman that she needs a size fourteen and not the size eight that she's trying to squeeze her way in to, how to dye shoes, what petticoat goes with what shape of dress, and, our ultimate dealbreaker, that I absolutely do not ever, ever, ever want to work in retail or sales, ever again.
You're going to be fine, you are going to go on to outfit thousands of crazy-ass brides, bridesmaids, and flower girls and you will have so many more customer service representatives patrolling the front of the store, you won't even think of me after a few weeks. Maybe one day, far down the road, we'll meet again. Maybe I'll need a bridesmaid's dress or a gown for some formal occasion. But for now, I think it's best that we don't see each other for some time. I will always, always have a soft spot in my heart for you. Whenever I'm at the nail salon and I see a girl with one hand under the dryer and one hand on her blackberry, viciously spitting obscenities at her wedding planner, I will think of you. When I'm in a bar and a loud crowd of tanned, fluffy-haired bridesmaids escort a young lady in to celebrate her last days as an unmarried woman/get her crosseyed-drunk so she'll stop yelling at them about how awful they are being about "her day", I will think of you. Next time I'm at the lake/beach/park/etc. at sunset and I see a wedding where an oblivious and blissfully happy bride is surrounded by angry and exhausted bridesmaids, a terrified groom, and a stressed out mother, I will fondly remember all of the time we spent together.
Thank you so much for all of the memories. I will truly cherish this time and will fondly look back and remember you while I'm spending my Saturdays with my family and friends instead of wearing uncomfortable high heels and getting my face screamed at. I probably won't drink as much, and my blog might get less funny (OK those things will never happen). But it's not you, it's me, we've drifted apart and now I feel like it's just time to move on. This just wasn't meant to be. Take care, Bridal Shop, and remember: I might not always love you, but you were the biggest piece of crap job I've ever had.

With Love,
Mere

Ok so I didn't almost kill somebody, but I did come very close to a potential bar fight tonight at trivia. All my "I almost did something horrible" stories start with "I was at trivia last night...."

Anyway, I was at trivia last night, and it was weird. Usually trivia is on Wednesday but tonight it was Thursday because apparently the Tavern had other plans on Wednesday. Half the regulars didn't get the memo so apparently Wednesday night a bunch of people had shown up and I guess nobody told them to come back on Thursday because the bar was barely half full. Maybe six teams, tops. Plus Duffy's grader didn't show so Mark graciously filled in (when I say "graciously" I actually mean "was bribed with free beer"). Also apparently Mark sometimes reads my blog (he called me a "real blogger", ha ha awesome) HI MARK! Uhm, anyway. Dale wasn't feeling well, Mary has a life outside of trivia (WHO KNEW?!), and Ben was doing whatever so at the table it was just me, Eng, and Camden, making his triumphant return to trivia after battling the Eevil Mono.

So I went and turned in an answer sheet and it happened. It was almost like a dance, the motions lined up so perfectly. I was about five feet from our table and the guy sitting caddy-cornered to us was walking back to his chair also. Apparently he was talking to his buddy and paying even less attention than I was because he pulled out his chair while in mid-sentence and went to sit in it, but he'd pushed it just a few inches too far and right into my path. I kind of saw all of this happening but was a little too slow to fix any of it. The chair entered my path and I accidentally (it was an accident, I SWEAR!!) kicked it a little, and when he went to sit in it...yeah. He didn't crash all the way to the floor, he kind of did this Superman style laid-out flop into the chair as he realized he was way too far away to sit in it normally. You know those moments when you kind of want to die? That was me. Of course I instantly apologized profusely and repeatedly and the guy was completely nice about it. I mean, I might talk a lot of crap at trivia but unless you're this guy I would never purposely inflict bodily harm on anybody! Thursday trivia throws off my whole groove.

How has this happened?! I caught "Chopped" on the Food Network on Tuesday night, and WTF??? Ted Allen, my favorite sort-of-judge from "Top Chef", is now hosting this debacle that is not only a terrible idea but the least exciting cooking show ever. Apparently the premise is that four chefs are supposed to cook a three-course meal but the twist is that they have to incorporate ingredients (four, I think) from a Mystery Box for each course. I totally remember that challenge from Season Two of "Top Chef"! Elia's "lovely American cheese product", aw. But "Top Chef" this is not. With four contenders and only sixty minutes you don't even get the chance to give a rat's ass about any of these people. Then they boringly-yet-overdramatically present their dishes to the pompous chef/restaurant-owner panel, who apparently have a clause in their contracts that never allow them to give a positive remark about anything with the chefs in the room. This show is such a downer! WHY am I watching it?! Anyway, so the chefs are offed (or "Chopped", get it?) one by one and ultimately one...wins? Meh. Even Dale, who has rather indiscriminate taste when it comes to TV, said "I don't know if 'Chopped' is gonna make it, this is pretty bad!" And he's right. I just hate to see Ted Allen going down with it. It's not his fault that someone makes him robotically declare "YOU HAVE BEEN CHOPPED!" to each ousted contender, although I do kind of blame him for this weird kind of bouncy delivery of every line that he's developed since his blaze of awesome on "Top Chef". Boo.
Dear Food Network,
Please don't kill Ted Allen's career. Kthx.
- Mere.

Last night I had some very important TV watching to do, in the form of two hours of The Biggest Loser. Unfortunately, Mother Nature had other plans so every time the show went to commercial they'd pull this "extended commercial break" thing where the meteorologist guy would come on the screen with all his glowey monitors and gadgets and talk for endless minutes about this one skinny green and red line slashing through Central Texas. Like "Hey guys, it's gonna rain, and there's a lot of wind. Here it is, it's moving east, and let me just tell you again: it's gonna rain. There's a lot of wind. Please seek shelter immediately if you are outdoors (Really? I'm sorry, if you stay outdoors when the wind and rain pick up you deserve what's coming to you!) and let me show you again: this front is moving in to the Austin area, we're expecting very heavy rains and strong winds. It's moving east, seek shelter and stay away from outside walls and move to the first floor of your home, we are expecting very strong winds out of this front that is moving east..." I'm not freaking kidding you. This was ridiculous! And they pull this every time we have some kind of bad storm, they act like nobody knows what to do. I'm sorry, I have one word for people who stay outside in weather like that: Darwin. And really, now I know why everybody threw milk shakes at Nicolas Cage in The Weatherman. We fracking get it! You don't have to say it 20 times and interrupt our shows at every commercial break. Ugh, I hate you.

ALSO: Apparently, I'm funny (who knew?!) and I've been admitted to Humor Bloggers, a kind of community/blog directory for people who blog funny. Anyway, it would be awesome if y'all would stop by and rate my site. You can click "Rate 'Shut Uppp'" on the Shiny Stuff link list to the left or I'll make it easy for you and you can just click here. It improves your karma! Thanks everybody. I LOVE YOU! I really do.

So one of my favorite girls (Katie from Your Daily Dose of Awesome) recently posted a blog on yoga etiquette. I found this completely brilliant because now that every gym has yoga classes, tons of insensitive people are now regularly "doing yoga", although ask 80% of them why and they'll never mention the awesome emotional and spiritual benefits that actually practicing yoga will bring you. Since rejoining el Globo Gym Amanda and I have dropped in to a bunch of different classes, determined to get our money's worth (Ask me about our Saturday dance class! Hilarious.) and last night we went to a pretty freakin awesome yoga session. Of course, a great yoga class must be balanced with a huge amount of idiocy. So tonight we're in the middle of some floor poses a full thirty minutes into the one hour class and the door opens. WTF? Sure enough, this girl walks in pretty much in street clothes and kind of mills around by the door, stepping loudly until pretty much everyone in the room is looking at her, at which point her mom? Friend? Or someone waves at her from the middle of the front row. Really?? So Giggly Annoying Girl (heretofore known as "GAG") giggles and rushes to the prop wall, grabs a mat, runs to the middle of the room and plops the mat down between her mom and her neighbor, and then giggles some more. Really?? You suck! So whatever, everybody seems to recover from the distraction and eventually we're all back on track. UNTIL: Inversions!! One of my fave things to do (Thanks to a good friend of mine who is the most awesome yoga teacher I've EVER had!) and something I really want to get better at. Anyway, the instructor demonstrates how to do a shoulder stand, then moves on to how to do a headstand, stressing that you should only do this if you feel comfortable. So the instructor's in a headstand and she can see GAG from where she is and GAG is prepping for a headstand and this is what happened:
INSTRUCTOR: Ok, I'm really worried about this student (meaning GAG).
GAG: No response.
INSTRUCTOR: I don't think you're quite ready for this. I mean - I'm not trying to be mean or anything at all but I don't think you're ready.
GAG: No response, and now is trying to figure out how to position herself so she won't break her neck but she's totally about to break her neck.
INSTRUCTOR: I really really strongly advise against you doing this one, please don't try it, I'm not trying to be mean I'm just trying to look out for you.
GAG: Still no response, ignores Instructor, has to have the biggest headache by now because she's pretty much repeatedly slamming her head on the floor trying to kick up into a headstand gymnastics-style.
INSTRUCTOR: (Now appealing to GAG's mom/whatever) I don't want her to do this, I'm not trying to be mean but I don't think she's ready. I'm not saying this to hurt her feelings. She's just not ready for this one.
GAG'S MOM: (Looks at GAG, looks back at Instructor, finally kind of taps GAG and GAG kind of rolls her eyes and just sits there huffily)

Yeah, that just happened. I couldn't freaking believe that! It might be a class at a gym that YOU pay for but the poor instructor was just trying to keep this girl safe! Good Lord. AND the class was totally disrupted again because we were all a little distracted and worried about this chick who seemed determined to F her own stuff up. People, freakin please.

The Movie: Defiance
Seen On: Thursday 2/5 At: Alamo Drafthouse Lake Creek With: Dale & Ben
Who's In It: Daniel Craig, Liev Schreiber
In 100 Words: “Defiance” tells the story of the Bielski brothers, part of a Jewish family living in Belorussia during WWII. After their family is killed, the four brothers end up hiding in the woods on the run from Germans. The whole first 90 minutes of the movie is somehow slow and yet still attempts to cram a lot into a small space: food shortage, growing numbers of refugees, creating community, conflicting opinions, rescue missions, hookups in the woods, and something about the Red Army. What? Exactly. But you get to stare at Liev Schreiber and Daniel Craig, and then everything blows up.
It's Kind Of Like: Red Dawn meets Uprising and Robin Hood: Prince of Thieves? I guess.
Running Time: 2 hours, 17 minutes. Feels Like: Almost 3 hours.
Favorite Quote: "Nothing is impossible. What we have done is impossible."
Sucker Punch Count: At least 5, plus one sucker-shooting.
How It Changed My Life: I'm now completely sure that I will never set my time machine to Belorussia in 1941.
I'd Recommend This Movie For: People with more patience than me; Historians and sociologists; People who can suppress the urge to yell "WOLVERINES!" in a crowded theater.
Final Rating: 2 1/2 Awesomes (Out of 5). Meh.

- YES it really is possible to wait too long to order your bridesmaids' dresses. It's happened. And sometimes there is literally not a thing in the world we can do about it - the dresses do not exist and I cannot magically make them appear for you in time for the wedding. So please, when we say order in advance, order in advance. We're not just saying that to try and get you to pay for something today. There are brides getting married with mismatched bridesmaids or even a bridesmaid or two short because they didn't place their order soon enough.

- NO, I'm not going to write a description of your dress so that you can put it in your newspaper announcement. Funny story: a girl once asked me to do that and I was REALLY in a mood that day, apparently, and so I said "Well, what does your dress look like?" And she replied "It's white, and it's kind of flowy chiffon fabric with a split front and cap sleeves with beading." So I said "Ok, do you have a pen? Write this down: The bride wore a white chiffon gown with a full skirt and cap sleeves with detailed embroidery and embellishments. How does that sound?" She thought it sounded great. Duh. If you can describe your dress to me, you can describe it to the newspaper.

- YES, everyone that works here has strong arms. Good observation. We lift giant wedding gowns all day long and we carry about six bridesmaids dresses at a time. We also have a huge tolerance for ridiculous people.

- We really really don't have extra dresses in the back. I'm sorry. Some days you might get lucky and maybe there's a bra or slip in the right size that's back in receiving that we just haven't brought out yet but you don't understand how rare that is. We're not lying to you - we don't keep backstock of all this stuff. You really do have to order it.

- Nobody told you your alterations would be free, and you're really not the first crazy person who has tried to tell me that someone did. We spend LOTS of time going over what NOT to say to people about their alterations, and we all definitely, definitely know not to tell you that you alts are free. Shut up and get out of my line.

- Yes you need an appointment. Yes you will have to wait for-freakin-ever if you don't have one. I can't say it enough: You. Need. An. Appointment. I hate you.

I was uncharacteristically watching local news this morning and what to my wandering eye should appear but the delightful "headline" that the DTV switch has been pushed back from next week until June to "give people more time" to prepare. WTF?! Because I'm pretty sure they've been scrolling that message with the switch date and the number to call across the bottom of my TV for almost a year now. So the DTV groundhog saw its shadow and now we're in for four more months of stupid commercials, scroll bars, and obnoxious advertising for a switch that's probably not going to affect that many people. Oh and it's because "some people" didn't get the memo. Darwin says that those people should lose their TV signal 'til they get their stuff together.

You've got to be freakin kidding me. Is this a real thing? You're actually going to buy a piece of plastic to put in your hair to make yourself look like a Conehead. Rad. I've never understood the "hair bump" thing; aside from making you look like you just stepped out of an SNL sketch, you also look like you may have left a curler in there somewhere and just kind of said "Meh, go with it." and pulled the rest of your hair over the curler and pinned it up anyway. So anyway - in case you can't find the cardboard tube from an empty roll of toilet paper or a giant highlighter or something else creative (and free) to stick under your stupid looking hair bump, you can purchase this little treasure to make your hair look like a small volcano.

We've been over the whole "I'm a sucky cook" thing before, so you're probably not surprised to learn that I microwave. Like, a lot. At least two meals a day. To be fair it's not always TV dinners (Hello, Smart Ones quesadillas! Yum!), there are plenty of times when it's yesterday's home-cooked meal (Orrrr last night's takeout leftovers, whatever.) that just needs a quick zap before it's ready to eat. Anyway - I'm familiar with my microwave. Just imagine my surprise when I went to heat up my earlier and - WTF?! - there's a gigantic crack in the plastic, right by the handle. Hoooooly crap, how long has that been there? I'm thinking it's rather new because it's pretty noticeable, but that can't be good, right? And the inside panel (the one with the window) isn't cracked at all, but it still seems totally plausible to me that every time I turn the microwave on crazy scary rays of radiation shoot out of the crack and bounce around my house. To make it even better, it's the kind that is mounted over the stove, so the death rays are on brain-level. Fan-freakin-tastic.

So yeah, not only do I probably glow in the dark and emit small amounts of radiation, Silkwood style (Oh sorry, is that completely wrong to say?), I also get to wander over to the property management office tomorrow and tell them to fix it. Look for the "My Apartment Company Sucks" blog, more than likely coming soon.