Too Cool for School

Lairin and I were gchatting today (as we do) and we really hashed a lot of great stuff out. I feel like if we were in the UN, in some capacity, a lot of shit would get done. And by "shit" I mean "existential ramblings about nothing." Allow me to set the stage, Lairin is in the midst of applying to MFA programs:

Lairin: oh god UT Austin wants my "hours earned"

for college

I DON'T FUCKING KNOW

Kleine: what?

WHAT DOES IT MEAN?

Lairin: use units like the rest of the civilized world!!!!!

Kleine: you should just write

"suck it, trebek"

they'd be like "WOW SUBVERSIVE, GREAT REF, SHE'S IN"

Lairin: YES

I think they mean GPA?

or units

IT IS NOT CLEAR

Kleine: would infinity be an appropriate response?

i think it could work for all of them

because

you want to continue school

so, infinite units

Lairin: FOREVER

Kleine: EXACTEMENT

OH NORTON

HOW I MISS YOUR GIRTH

(that's gross)

((didn't realize that gross double entendre till it was too late))

Lairin: I just spat coffee onto myself

Man, Bitches love Norton.

The Weekend from Hell 2: Hellier

Hi friends!

Remember my last post, when I exhausted the topic of "fly-type things" and my slaughtering of them? WEEELLLLLLLLL, guess what? I had the honor of discovering what these fly-type things are. This is what they look like:

Accurate Portrayal

If you are stupid like me, you would simply have basked in the rays of winning a battle against evil nameless bugs and would have needed to wait until you got a tenting notice for your apartment to tell you that you did not win the battle against these mighty bugs. In fact, you lost. BIG TIME. Because those are fucking termites. And if you don't know about termites, apparently, they're bad and stuff. At least, that's the word on the street, and words on the street tend to be legit (example: "crack is whack"--well known words found on the street).

I stared at the notice for a good 10 minutes. Not totally sure how this was gonna work. I have my cat, Mimi, as I'm sure you all know since I mention her in every post. And the landlord was offering to put us up in a hotel that didn't allow animals (and, subsequently, happiness). So, Mimi and I packed our bags and drove south for the border (of LA county) to be with our BFF, Lairin Paris, in Redondo Beach.

Let's just say Mimi hates car rides about as much as I hate the Twilight Series. However, Mimi's hatred manifests itself differently than mine:

Why don't you just write a paper deconstructing the subject matter to appease yourself, Mimi?

As with all car rides, in which Mimi sits in the passenger seat, I try to calm her. I soothingly remind her that I love her and I won't let anything bad happen to her. In between shifting gears, I put my hand on her carrier and attempt to pet her through the plastic. I probably should be getting in a million car accidents when I drive with her, but miraculously I don't, Ceiling Cat is obviously looking out for me.

Interior of car doesn't look this awesome.

At a certain point, I just give up with the comforting attempts. This was a long drive down to Redondo Beach. And in between the breaths of each useless cry emanating from Mimi's little mouth, echoing in my head, I realized I should never have children. I think a dog is as far as I can go on the sole responsibility-dependent spectrum. I know I'm young or whatever, BUT HOLY CRAP, THE STRESS AND THE ANGER THAT RISES FROM IT.

Because this was the longest car ride that Mimi has been on (since she's been with me), she decided to go slightly (and by "slightly" I mean "totally") ape shit. Rather than simply continue on with the pleading meows--each one a kitten dagger in my heart (worse than regular daggers)--Mimi decided that this was the appropriate moment to reenact a scene from the illustrious film, Alien.

Cat Carrier= John Hurt's belly in film

Reference for you n00bs out there.

Now, I'm not sure who showed her this film (or why she would be a fan of it) but she was reenacting the shit out of it. It was an homage of sorts, which successfully scared at least one year off my life span.

I had decided, prior to our exodus to Redondo Beach, that on my way back home I would take Mimi to the veterinarian-- just to terrorize the bejesus out of her (and also because she had some rash-type stuff going on). So, the plan was stay with Lairin for a few days, drive back up on Saturday, go to the vet, then return home to my termite-free apartment. It became abundantly clear while at Lairin's place that Mimi wasn't suffering from benign rashes, but from fleas, exacerbating the probs. And I know what those megalomaniacal assholes look like and I was not pleased to see one practicing its dance moves on Mimi. Unlike the termite debacle, I knew that I could not win this battle on my own. I didn't have a cathartic smashing of fleas like I did with the termites, at least in that situation, I felt like I showed them who was boss by punching them in the face.

Naturally, I trick Lairin into coming to the vet with me using my tricksy ways. I was prepared for Mimi's antics in the car ride and decided to not care, letting Lairin bear that burden:

 

We go to the vet definitely looking like a lesbian couple with their cat (see: Zuzu and Sparks). This may not have been in our favor as we happened to sit next to a forty-ish-year-old man with an awesome dog. The man in question was not super attractive, but then he started to speak... with a Scottish accent. And all of a sudden, he was silver fox stud muffin. While talking to us about how his dog liked to lick feet, Lairin sent me this text:

 

But then he went away and we were able to focus on the issue at hand. The whole debacle turned into a vet bill bigger than how much I paid for Mimi in the first place. And I was informed that I needed to give her a special allergy, flea bath. I looked at Lairin with pleading eyes (my tricksy ways weapon of choice). And she had no way out, I had the sweet ride that would drive her home and I bribed her with food (sealed the deal). 

Upon our return to my apartment (still smelling of noxious fumes), the cat bathing commenced:

 

So, en sum, that weekend was off. da. chain. It also happened to correspond with my first year anniversary with Mimi as my cat and she was seriously thinking about breaking it off, but then really thought about the consequences of that, so she's sticking with me, but only after we "had a talk." [She really just meowed at me and my eyes glazed over and I just said "mmhmm" a bunch of times--seemed to placate her].

Here's her looking surprisingly serene after the bath:

...which scene from Alien should I reenact next?

Just a Cog in the Evolution Machine

For those of you who read this (me), sorry we haven't been posting. [Yes... I just apologized to myself].

So, today was the day, in which I conquered an army of bugs. These little fuckers had wings and probably tiny machine guns...since they were an army and all, but I fought valiantly. It was like that one scene in that one movie with that one guy where he's fighting and stuff...except it was me versus a bunch of bugs, but it was just as epic.

But, I'm getting ahead of myself. Let me start from the beginning. I came home from work today with a serious need to pee. I pause momentarily in my room (the lights were off) to cast off my heels. I book it to the bathroom, taking off my clothes [this isn't a sexy post, I swear!] to get ready to work out and pee (I like to multitask). So, I'm in the bathroom, taking my much-anticipated pee, when I feel something crawl on my leg. I look down. No biggie, just a little fly-type thing. When I tried to Google image search this creature, I found terrifying things. So, I quickly halted the search. Here's my interpretation of said fly-type thing:

Despite the resemblance in this image, fly-type thing is of no relation to Gumby or any of his crew.

David Attenborough would probably call it "slightly accurate" (and by "slightly accurate" I mean "that's the worst fucking thing ever made, Kleine, stop emailing me this image asking what kind of fly it is. I don't have time for this, I'm a big deal.") Basically, fly-type thing was completely harmless, maybe half an inch long, brownish-black, with slight wings (that seemed to serve only as decoration).

Anywho, I simply flick fly-type thing off of my ankle and move on with my life. I get back to my room and turn on the light. But, on my way to my bedroom, I became increasingly focused on my fingernails. You see, I decided on Saturday that I needed to get them painted. I suppose I was trying to do this whole "feminine" thing, but soon enough the paint started to chip ever so slightly, despite my best efforts. So, I sit down on the bed, my skirt halfway off, and I am gleefully picking the polish off my nails...it's a cathartic pleasure.

As I am gathering flakes of pink polish off my nails, I notice one fly-type thing crawling on my bed. Again, no biggie. Just flick him off. I resume my nail cleansing using my teeth because I am classy and continue to get undressed to work out. I then notice another one and then my eyes magically learned how to work and shit. got. real.

My hair looks like that.

I abandon my animalistic removal of nail polish and frantically flick off fly-type things. With a surprising lack of forethought, I was astonished to see a shit ton of fly-type things on the floor of my bedroom.

At this point, I knew I needed to get it together and take care of business, or bidness, if you will. The thing is these fly-type things knew what they were doing. I'm sure this was a pre-planned attack. They probably all met together today, complaining about the heat (especially since they had to carry heavy, tiny machine guns... they are a fly-type army after all), and then they heard the beautiful A/C in my apartment blowing and assumed a military formation and just marched right on in. But, why me, of all the apartments with A/C in my building?

These fly-type things probably knew that I was a vegetarian for moral reasons and made the sadly mistaken assumption that I wouldn't fucking crush them. Let it be known to the animal kingdom that I do not care AT ALL, not one iota, about bugs, spiders, or any of that shit. SUPPOSEDLY, they all have an evolutionary purpose, but we are all rotting with global warming, so evolution isn't even working right anymore and more importantly they all look creepy. [That, right there, is a rock-solid argument. Richard Dawkins, I challenge you.]

I'll be honest, I didn't get it together immediately. There was a lot of flicking of fly-type things off of my bed and half-assed use of dry paper-towels. But, do not fear readers, Kleine got her shit together and got kind of sadistic with these fly-type things:

 
At a certain point, probably after seeing the source of the fly-type things coming from my window, I knew I needed to fully disrobe out of my work clothes, so I could get real surrious. So, I put on some low-quality clothing, knowing that this could get messy, as I was single handedly performing a mini-massacre. I put my hair in a tight bun (see above image) and planned my attack. It started out slow and sloppy. I grabbed some Clorox wipes and just wiped em out (bonus: my windows are slightly cleaner!). However, I did not have enough Clorox wipes to account for the population of fly-type things. I then began to use the left over Clorox juice (it's not juice) in the container and papertowels. But, alas, that could only last so long. And then I remembered about an old ass can of Raid I had in my evil possession. And I opened up that old ass can of Raid (AKA whoop-ass):

I grew a unibrow at this moment.

I killed every last one. At a certain point, I just started picking them up and throwing them in a trashbag that was filled with noxious fumes. I knew I needed to remove my sheets and duvet cover from the bed since fly-type things were rubbing all up on it. Removing my sheets from the bed is the equivalent of a fucking three-act play production, hence my unwillingness to do it more than once every month (and by "month," I mean "2 months," and by "2 months," I mean "never"). I then emptied out my room and wet-jet swiffered it, which I hadn't done in forever. I was goaded into it by all the dead fly-type bodies littered on my floor, they were mocking me and my unwillingness to clean. At this point, I felt slightly bad for the act I had just committed:

But, after cleaning it all up, I quickly forgot all about mourning my new found violent leanings and the annihilation of a species of fly-type things and instead, snuggled my cat:

Oh California, I love you.

Summer in a nutshell

Back to school, sigh.

Nothing like a poet getting a huge body tattoo of another poet.

Ramadan-a-ling

Today at work.

Coworker #1: Let's get lunch together! We haven't done that in a long time.
Coworker #2: I can't. I'm doing Ramadan.
Coworker #1: What is that?
Coworker #2: Hey Kleine! He doesn't know what Ramadan is!!!
Kleine: You don't know what Ramadan is? What's wrong with you?
Coworker #1: I'm sorry... I don't listen to hip hop.

Serious laughter ensued.

Updated to include conversation from later that day:
Kleine: Were you referencing the South Park movie earlier?
Coworker #1: Yeah, I was. Nice catch! I was just joking around... I totally know what Rosh Hashanah is.
Kleine: It's Ramadan!