Greenbox/Bluebox/Grossbox
"Your mom!"
-my sister in response to 'where do babies come from?'
Alright, so I'm totally pathetic and well aware of it, but since I don't give a damn either way *shrugs* I watched Beauty and the Beast today. And cried almost all the way through. Oh yeah, it happened. So, what brought on this heave of overemotional childhood memory syndrome? A series of fortunate links.
Goddamn bri_chan and her magnificent artwork. It started with buttfacemanaki stating she was applying for a Disney internship and from there, I clicked onto bri_chan to look at her artwork and came up with this. Which lead me to her gallery and then to her Alice/Mad Hatter comics (we know how much I love AiW already) and then to this.
Somehow, the like 2 panel cameo appearance of Belle inspired me to watch Beausty and the Beast, yet not Alice in Wonderland or Pirates of the Carribean. How odd. Now I'm going to be forced to watch every Disney movie I have (which is .. all of them).
Second topic of conversation, I hate this new green box thing. Seriously, wtf? I was just getting use to properly sorting out my compost/recycle/garbage, and now this greenbox tells me that half of my garbage can be mixed with my compost and put in a shiny green box. Do you know how difficult it is to sort garbage? I just want to eat/blow my nose/toss nonsense mail without having to sort! Do I ask too much? I think not. It's the damn garbage people that do.
Third point of order: my adoption of Tux and Dot. [Ok, I totally just took a minute to read what my last entry and discovered it was before my interview. Wtf.] Alright, so I did in fact get an interview the day after my last entry, which would have been the 3rd. I went to work out and called right after, got an appointment for 2, so I ate lunch and walked from the GO over to the OHS.
OK, it was the creepiest thing ever meeting Joanna, my adoption councilor because on the phone, this girl sounds like she's in her late 50's. I get there and this 20 something girl comes out, a piercing between her chin and lip. I was like .. hellu. So the interview went swimmingly and she was basically like, "oh, you work with them? then you can have them! but get someone from your house to call and say it's alright just so we make sure everyone is aware of the situation."
K, that's like giving me the keys to a mansion and at the last second telling me there's an electric fence I have to crawl over before I can get in. And the switch for the fence is inside the house. (you all love my analogies/metaphors, I know) I'm safe once I'm over that fence, but I have to figure out a hole big enough to squeeze through so I don't get killed.
So I hop on the bus back home and pray my dad will call in for me. Wrong. He had to "discuss it" with my mom first. So my mom gets home and sends me to my room while she and my dad "discuss" the imminent problem. I'm exasperatedly waiting in my room for the verdict and my dad calls me down 2 minutes later. I fumble down the stairs with a look of "don't hurt me, say yes to my kitties" and my mom ignores me while my dad gives me a calculating look.
"First," he says. "Your mom isn't very happy about the way you went about this entire process." I'm sorry, what? I told her when I was doing everything, it's not my fault she didn't believe me! "And those cats can't live in your room forever." But why? I will love them and ... I nod. "So when they get out, you need to watch them because we could have a very big problem. I don't want those cats getting hurt or accidentally getting loose, ok?" I nod. Yes, daddy.
"Second," he continues. "Your cats aren't declawed, correct?" I shake my head. "They're neutered/sprayed, have their shots, are dewormed but they aren't declawed, no."
"Ok, I'm fine with that but," he looks at my mother, who is still ignoring me. "If they start clawing at the furniture, they'll have to be declawed, got it?" I nod. Yup "But if they are declawed, if they scratch up the furniture before - especially you mother's good furniture your grandma gave her - how are you going to fix the damage? That's expensive stuff, you know what I'm saying?"
A couch. Seriously? You would let my cats suffer, unadopted, in a tiny cage, just because you're worried about the FUCKING FURNITURE? I bit my tongue and said, "I can declaw them, if I have to."
"Alright, now I think there was something else ..." Here my dad kind of trails off into the unknown regions of 'no train of though' and comes back several minutes later when my mom starts making gestures at herself. "Oh, right! Now, what happens if your mom has a reaction to them?"
OK, this is BULLSHIT. My mom is not allergic to cats, it's a mental thing. We had a cat living with us for almost a year when my aunt was with us and it had no effect on my mom whatsoever. I try and bring a cat home and immediately she develops an allergy to them. Total Bull.
"Well," I sigh, "There is a 14-day adjustment period. If things don't work out, we can take them back to the OHS and they will take them. I'll be fined a $20 penalty but will get the rest of my money back."
My dad nods, looks at my mom, who reluctantly sighs and I look at them anxiously. "Is that a yes? I can have my kitties?" I hug my mom because she's still ignoring me and whisper, "I'm sorry. You'll learn to love them though, just like you've learned to love me!"
She chuckles finally and mutters, "Who says I do?"
So we agreed that I would be paying for everything, responsible for them, and the only thing they had to do was phone the OHS and leave a message saying twas all good. Alright, funny thing: my dad seems to want the cats more than I do, it's halarious! He was going on about how he was for me getting them the entire time (which he was, he didn't stop me for applying or anything, he even encouraged me), he just didn't want to make my mom angry.
Funny people, my parents. Anyways, next night after work (so it's like 10:10) my dad asks if the OHS called back so I check my cell and whaddayaknow? This other girl called to congratulate me, said tux and dot were ready to go home and I just needed to book a day to do so, but they wanted me to go in to do the paperwork. Ok, can I just say, right now, that their adoption hours are STUPID?
11-5. Closed Monday's. This becomes a problem in a second.
So Saturday morning, before work, I go over with my dad to the OHS to see if we can do the paperwork. After waiting in like a 15 minute long line because some RUDE lady who didn't know what the hell she was suppose to do in order to adopt an animal butted in front of me, the secretary calls Roxanne (the girl who had called me) and Roxanne brings me back into the room I had my interview in.
Ok, let me tell you right now, I don't trust this kid. She looks and acts like she's maybe 16. No wonder she gets everything fucked up. She wanted me to book a time to fill out the papers and bring them home so I was like "oh, well I was hoping to do it now so that I could pick them up tomorrow after work cause I work until 5." Oh, this was apparently not going to work for her.
First problem: They close at 5, right? I was like, um yeah, well I wasn't aware that there was a time frame if you were picking them up somewhere else because usually people pick them up at whatever time is convenient for them there. She's like "OHHHHHHHHHHHH, they're at Petcetera?" Duh, did you even read the forms? She's like, "Oh, then you can pick them up whenever, but you have to book an appointment for the paperwork."
I can't do it right now? Like, seriously, how long is this paperwork? So I didn't have time to do it that day so I was like well I have Monday and Friday off ... and she tells me they're closed on Monday's (which I had forgotten). So I was like, great, I don't have any other time to come down this week besides Friday because of my work hours. SO I booked the 11am appointment on Friday and I'm going to pick them up when my parents get home so I can grab all their shit too.
But then yesterday, I was like, well my parents can still drive me, I think I'll call to see if I can run over there on break and do the paperwork and that way I can still bring them home! So I called at 11 and spoke to the front desk because Roxanne wasn't picking up the phone. Apparently she wasn't even in and they weren't taking appointments for the day. I'm sorry, WHAT? How bad do you not want me to take home these cats?
So, now I have to restlessly wait until Friday and play with them on my breaks until they come home. I hate the OHS. Apparently, this is the only one in the district that gives anyone this much hassle over adoptions. Some of them don't even need an interview. Or they make the decision at the interview and you do the paperwork right there.
*sigh*
Writer's Block: Describe your different personas.
Erm ... I'm girlish and shy in front of authority figures. Sarcastic and unapproving in front of my co-workers. Easy going and snide in front of people I like. Overly emotional and cynical by myself. In hysterics and perverted with my friends. I am AWESOME, bitches.
//look forward to a potato/photo icon in the near future to commemorate Car's faukature
-my sister in response to 'where do babies come from?'
Alright, so I'm totally pathetic and well aware of it, but since I don't give a damn either way *shrugs* I watched Beauty and the Beast today. And cried almost all the way through. Oh yeah, it happened. So, what brought on this heave of overemotional childhood memory syndrome? A series of fortunate links.
Goddamn bri_chan and her magnificent artwork. It started with buttfacemanaki stating she was applying for a Disney internship and from there, I clicked onto bri_chan to look at her artwork and came up with this. Which lead me to her gallery and then to her Alice/Mad Hatter comics (we know how much I love AiW already) and then to this.
Somehow, the like 2 panel cameo appearance of Belle inspired me to watch Beausty and the Beast, yet not Alice in Wonderland or Pirates of the Carribean. How odd. Now I'm going to be forced to watch every Disney movie I have (which is .. all of them).
Second topic of conversation, I hate this new green box thing. Seriously, wtf? I was just getting use to properly sorting out my compost/recycle/garbage, and now this greenbox tells me that half of my garbage can be mixed with my compost and put in a shiny green box. Do you know how difficult it is to sort garbage? I just want to eat/blow my nose/toss nonsense mail without having to sort! Do I ask too much? I think not. It's the damn garbage people that do.
Third point of order: my adoption of Tux and Dot. [Ok, I totally just took a minute to read what my last entry and discovered it was before my interview. Wtf.] Alright, so I did in fact get an interview the day after my last entry, which would have been the 3rd. I went to work out and called right after, got an appointment for 2, so I ate lunch and walked from the GO over to the OHS.
OK, it was the creepiest thing ever meeting Joanna, my adoption councilor because on the phone, this girl sounds like she's in her late 50's. I get there and this 20 something girl comes out, a piercing between her chin and lip. I was like .. hellu. So the interview went swimmingly and she was basically like, "oh, you work with them? then you can have them! but get someone from your house to call and say it's alright just so we make sure everyone is aware of the situation."
K, that's like giving me the keys to a mansion and at the last second telling me there's an electric fence I have to crawl over before I can get in. And the switch for the fence is inside the house. (you all love my analogies/metaphors, I know) I'm safe once I'm over that fence, but I have to figure out a hole big enough to squeeze through so I don't get killed.
So I hop on the bus back home and pray my dad will call in for me. Wrong. He had to "discuss it" with my mom first. So my mom gets home and sends me to my room while she and my dad "discuss" the imminent problem. I'm exasperatedly waiting in my room for the verdict and my dad calls me down 2 minutes later. I fumble down the stairs with a look of "don't hurt me, say yes to my kitties" and my mom ignores me while my dad gives me a calculating look.
"First," he says. "Your mom isn't very happy about the way you went about this entire process." I'm sorry, what? I told her when I was doing everything, it's not my fault she didn't believe me! "And those cats can't live in your room forever." But why? I will love them and ... I nod. "So when they get out, you need to watch them because we could have a very big problem. I don't want those cats getting hurt or accidentally getting loose, ok?" I nod. Yes, daddy.
"Second," he continues. "Your cats aren't declawed, correct?" I shake my head. "They're neutered/sprayed, have their shots, are dewormed but they aren't declawed, no."
"Ok, I'm fine with that but," he looks at my mother, who is still ignoring me. "If they start clawing at the furniture, they'll have to be declawed, got it?" I nod. Yup "But if they are declawed, if they scratch up the furniture before - especially you mother's good furniture your grandma gave her - how are you going to fix the damage? That's expensive stuff, you know what I'm saying?"
A couch. Seriously? You would let my cats suffer, unadopted, in a tiny cage, just because you're worried about the FUCKING FURNITURE? I bit my tongue and said, "I can declaw them, if I have to."
"Alright, now I think there was something else ..." Here my dad kind of trails off into the unknown regions of 'no train of though' and comes back several minutes later when my mom starts making gestures at herself. "Oh, right! Now, what happens if your mom has a reaction to them?"
OK, this is BULLSHIT. My mom is not allergic to cats, it's a mental thing. We had a cat living with us for almost a year when my aunt was with us and it had no effect on my mom whatsoever. I try and bring a cat home and immediately she develops an allergy to them. Total Bull.
"Well," I sigh, "There is a 14-day adjustment period. If things don't work out, we can take them back to the OHS and they will take them. I'll be fined a $20 penalty but will get the rest of my money back."
My dad nods, looks at my mom, who reluctantly sighs and I look at them anxiously. "Is that a yes? I can have my kitties?" I hug my mom because she's still ignoring me and whisper, "I'm sorry. You'll learn to love them though, just like you've learned to love me!"
She chuckles finally and mutters, "Who says I do?"
So we agreed that I would be paying for everything, responsible for them, and the only thing they had to do was phone the OHS and leave a message saying twas all good. Alright, funny thing: my dad seems to want the cats more than I do, it's halarious! He was going on about how he was for me getting them the entire time (which he was, he didn't stop me for applying or anything, he even encouraged me), he just didn't want to make my mom angry.
Funny people, my parents. Anyways, next night after work (so it's like 10:10) my dad asks if the OHS called back so I check my cell and whaddayaknow? This other girl called to congratulate me, said tux and dot were ready to go home and I just needed to book a day to do so, but they wanted me to go in to do the paperwork. Ok, can I just say, right now, that their adoption hours are STUPID?
11-5. Closed Monday's. This becomes a problem in a second.
So Saturday morning, before work, I go over with my dad to the OHS to see if we can do the paperwork. After waiting in like a 15 minute long line because some RUDE lady who didn't know what the hell she was suppose to do in order to adopt an animal butted in front of me, the secretary calls Roxanne (the girl who had called me) and Roxanne brings me back into the room I had my interview in.
Ok, let me tell you right now, I don't trust this kid. She looks and acts like she's maybe 16. No wonder she gets everything fucked up. She wanted me to book a time to fill out the papers and bring them home so I was like "oh, well I was hoping to do it now so that I could pick them up tomorrow after work cause I work until 5." Oh, this was apparently not going to work for her.
First problem: They close at 5, right? I was like, um yeah, well I wasn't aware that there was a time frame if you were picking them up somewhere else because usually people pick them up at whatever time is convenient for them there. She's like "OHHHHHHHHHHHH, they're at Petcetera?" Duh, did you even read the forms? She's like, "Oh, then you can pick them up whenever, but you have to book an appointment for the paperwork."
I can't do it right now? Like, seriously, how long is this paperwork? So I didn't have time to do it that day so I was like well I have Monday and Friday off ... and she tells me they're closed on Monday's (which I had forgotten). So I was like, great, I don't have any other time to come down this week besides Friday because of my work hours. SO I booked the 11am appointment on Friday and I'm going to pick them up when my parents get home so I can grab all their shit too.
But then yesterday, I was like, well my parents can still drive me, I think I'll call to see if I can run over there on break and do the paperwork and that way I can still bring them home! So I called at 11 and spoke to the front desk because Roxanne wasn't picking up the phone. Apparently she wasn't even in and they weren't taking appointments for the day. I'm sorry, WHAT? How bad do you not want me to take home these cats?
So, now I have to restlessly wait until Friday and play with them on my breaks until they come home. I hate the OHS. Apparently, this is the only one in the district that gives anyone this much hassle over adoptions. Some of them don't even need an interview. Or they make the decision at the interview and you do the paperwork right there.
*sigh*
Writer's Block: Describe your different personas.
Erm ... I'm girlish and shy in front of authority figures. Sarcastic and unapproving in front of my co-workers. Easy going and snide in front of people I like. Overly emotional and cynical by myself. In hysterics and perverted with my friends. I am AWESOME, bitches.
//look forward to a potato/photo icon in the near future to commemorate Car's faukature