Moving is terrible

Moving sucks. Not because I'm leaving behind a "home" (trust me, any idea of "home" in the last decade has been completely ruined by a certain individual) but because I have to sort through pretty much ALL MY POSSESSIONS FROM MY ENTIRE LIFE. (Okay, I moved to this residence in middle school so it's probably less than that, but it's still a lot of stuff.)

Please remind me to never buy anything again that isn't edible or easily donate-able (i.e. clothing).

Certain things I've noticed about sorting through my stuff:

1. I'm finding sentimental value in everything when I haven't looked at it in years. (History notes from seventh grade? Really?)

2. I used to collect Why Milk ads... way back from like 1996. Bizarre to see a Buffy-era Sarah Michelle Gellar, pre-ANTM Tyra Banks, Clinton and Dole...

3. There were many things that I "saved" for a special occasion that never came: pretty stationery, fancy pens, jewelry-making kits, etc. Lesson? Carpe diem, use it or lose it, etc. Unfortunately, all those cliches are totally true.

4. Old socks that you were going to throw out anyway are a great cushion for packing things like fragile items like mugs or disposing of stuff with sharp edges so the garbage bag won't tear.

I'm sure I'll think of more later.

It's 5:28 am right now. I HAVE TO SLEEP...

Rich people baffle me

Today at work, I had to call a fashion magazine because an upcoming guest appeared on the cover last month, and we wanted some extra copies of the issue. So I call our contact there, and the guy's assistant asks me to email her the request. She gives me her email, and her name is an amalgamation of the surname of a fashion designer and a brand of a frozen dinners. I almost asked jokingly, "Like the TV dinner?" but decided that that was way too gauche to ask someone who worked at that title.

After I hang up, I start wondering what kind of life that a person named Hilfiger Stouffer (not her real name but something like that) would lead. Naturally, I Google her. Well, it turns out that her dad owns a vineyard in Napa... and that her family ARE the people who did the TV dinners!

Weird. My surname only reminds people of one-third of the Axis of Evil.

I now have to pay for my dry-cleaning

It's pretty sad. I mean, ironically, I didn't buy too many clothes that had to be professionally cleaned anyway (since I knew first-hand how expensive it was and how much easier it is just to toss things in the washing machine), but now I have to be super careful about my clothes. Not that I wasn't before but at least I knew before that if I had to get a stain out of a sweater, I could just throw it in the dry-cleaning machine and steam out a stain myself. Now, I have to pay almost $5 each time.

Boo.

How do you even go about choosing a cleaners? Boo. It's so expensive!

Evil Stepwhore ruined my credit

I knew my Sallie Mae student loans were attached to my dad's checking account. And since I think Evil Stepwhore sucks, I never inquired about the account since I thought they were being automatically debited from his account.

Nope. Evil Stepwhore gave me Sallie Mae payment ticket things today and told me to start paying my loans myself (which is fine). What is not fine is that she's been paying them several days late each month by check, and my credit score is probably lowered because she sucks.

(Okay, it was MY responsibility to make sure they were being paid, fine. But please... Evil Stepwhore is trying to sue for my father's estate. So whatever. She totally sucks.)

Me so horny... me love you long time!

I love my local library. I mean, if you really think about libraries... and the fact that we get to borrow stuff for FREE... that's pretty brilliant. (Thanks, Ben Franklin.) God only knows how much money I've saved (especially in college) by borrowing books from the library instead of buying them. Plus, my local library has an amazing DVD collection that stocks films that I'd actually watch.

But damn... every time I go to the foreign section and look at the "Si, Oui, Yes" sticker on Better Luck Tomorrow and Real Women Have Curves, I think I'm going to have an effing coronary.

I don't know why I just don't say anything to the staff. I'm sure they recognize me by now. Maybe I don't want to appear as some Angry Minority. I'm one of those people who stand by and allow evil to happen.

I am a coward. I should say something nicely.