Sunday, December 11, 2011

Cristy buys grown-up furniture and can’t afford food

I live like a 19 year old man who just moved out on his own, but doesn’t yet quite understand the importance of furniture or how the appearance of your apartment can lead to future friends or the lack of said future friends. The only difference is I’m 26 and I’m a girl. I should have a pretty apartment filled with rustic antiques and flowers and pictures held within frames that I’ve decorated myself. This apartment concern was never an issue for me before. In college I always had a messy room. And I never cared what people thought about it. I would yell at people who stepped on my various piles of paper.

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Me: “Watch out! You’re ruining everything!”

Friend: “What?”

Me: “You’re mixing the piles together!”

Friend: “You’re kidding right?”

I never kid about paper piles.

Although my room looked like a mess, I knew what the various piles meant and moving the papers around was the equivalent for me as someone putting a cup on a wood table without a coaster for an actual adult.

Things changed when I graduated and got a job. I felt the need to act more like an adult. This didn’t necessarily change the way I lived…it just brought a lot of shame to the way I lived. It took me months to actually unpack due to a smoke issue. So, I lived like a vagrant that happened to stumble upon a storage unit to take shelter in.

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My neighbor was a heavy smoker and the quality of the wall/vent setup was comparable to if the builder had decided to create a building out of plywood and connect the various rooms with paper towel tubes to allow for air flow. So, I had smoke pouring in through the air vents, power outlets, and, for some reason, an abundant amount from behind the fridge. My only safe zone was my bedroom. It was the only part of my apartment that wasn’t connected by air vent to the smoke apartment. So I kept everything I could in my bedroom – mostly within my closet because it had no air vents. I lived like this for over a month.

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After breaking down and crying in my leasing office, I was given a new place to live. My brother helped me carry all my belongings across the parking lot to my new place. We luckily finished right before a huge thunderstorm hit.

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At this point I was now in the apartment I currently live in. I continued to live the shameful way I had chosen for over a year. My apartment had organized paper piles and I didn’t have real furniture.

My whole perspective changed when I bought a new sheet set. That’s all it took. I bought some fancy sheets and I decided they didn’t fit into my bedroom setup. The set came with a bunch of pillows, so I would need to prop them up against something. But, my bed was right below my window (my window that doesn’t keep cold air out, so I would have to wrap my head in a blanket in the winter months).

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I was going to need to move my bed out from under my window so that my pillows could lean against something. But it would look stupid if they were just against the wall. I was going to need a real bed. And a real bed deserves a real nightstand. And the plastic drawers that I was using as a dresser would take away from the overall grownup look of my bedroom…so I’d need a real dresser.

I went furniture shopping and found the perfect set. I would fill my bedroom to the brim with an entire new furniture set. It was beautiful. Furniture isn’t exactly that cheap though. I knew things were going to be tight going into this, but I underestimated my need for food. My plan was to take the money out of savings to be able to afford the furniture. When I got my bonus and tax refund a few months later I would put that money directly into my savings account to repay myself. I took out the bare minimum required from my savings. This left me with less than $50 to live off before I went home for Christmas (which was a month away).

I couldn’t do anything. I was living off of peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, cheese and mustard sandwiches, and some carnation instant breakfast that I found in my cupboards. People apparently began to get pretty concerned about me when I started bringing odder and odder things for lunch. By the end I was bringing in a bowl, spoon, and packet of cream of wheat to heat up in the microwave. Several people offered to buy me lunch, but I wasn’t looking for handouts! I could do this. I remember a few days before I headed home I had less than $3 left to spend. I was eating grated parmesan cheese for dinner and sugar and graham cracker crumbs (that I had bought a few months back to make a cheesecake) for dessert.

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I also resorted to limiting my electricity and water consumption. I was on a very strict morning workout plan at the time, so I would save on water by showering at the gym. This wasn’t anything new since I was working out in the mornings before the bedroom furniture and after the bedroom furniture, but it was added pressure for why I HAD to go to the gym in the morning. I also kept my heat very low. Warm pajamas were all I needed – especially since I was no longer sleeping under the drafty window.

Looking back on this all I can think is: It was totally worth it.

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Monday, November 14, 2011

I’m 26 Today!

I decided the best way to spend my last hour as a 25 year old would be to cut out pictures of bears to create a bear party for me. Barnabas brought a cake!

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He’s such a thoughtful bear. Also, ABC Family decided to extend its Harry Potter weekend into my birthday – clearly a birthday present for me. It’s going to be a good day!

Monday, October 17, 2011

cristywatson.blog.com

The fact that someone typed this into Google and it brought them to my blog makes me so incredibly happy. I’m not sure if it’s someone that knows me or a complete stranger, but either way it seems crazy to me that someone actually searched for this blog. I usually only draw in the “rope burn” crowd. I wish I had some good advice on rope burn treatment for you guys. Here’s one tip: you probably shouldn’t put lemon juice on rope burn, that seems like it would hurt.

A sure fire way for me to put a smile on my face is to look at recent Google searches that resulted in a visit to my blog. Today this is what I see for top 10 searches:

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Here’s a picture to make everyone happy!

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Saturday, October 15, 2011

Irene spit in my face

This is a super super suuuuuuuuuuuper delayed story on hurricane Irene. I haven’t worked on a blog post in quite a while – my life has been completely consumed by work, the flu, doctor appointments, surgeon appointments (remember my disdain for my shins – they must have read this story and are now punishing me), and just a general lack of wanting to do anything because I’ve allowed all the little (and big) annoyances in my life affect me too much. They say that the best way to combat being unhappy is to put a smile on your face, so I’m going to put a smile of my blog face…that’s me trying to say that I’m posting a story! I’m not so good with the words all the time.

When hurricane Irene passed through VA, I made an afternoon of cuddling up inside with movies and blankets…and standing on my balcony filming Irene’s fury.

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At first I thought we could be friends.

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But Irene had other things in mind.

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She sprayed her rain spit all over my face and pulled a piece of my apartment complex off.

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I don’t like Irene.

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I happened to be filming the exact moment Irene decided my apartment complex had too much metal on it and thought she’d help out by tearing it off and throwing it to the ground.

Tuesday, September 6, 2011

Thursday, August 11, 2011

I rip your chest off now

When we were younger Eric, Brent, and I would fill our summers with random challenges and games that we came up with. We’d often build stuff and go on adventures. When Eric got a little older he started going on my dad’s annual deer hunt with him. This left Brent and me to our own devices. Brent had just gotten a new remote control race car, and we decided it would be a good idea to use our sidewalk chalk (a staple of any cheap summertime fun) to draw a racetrack in the street. We lived in a housing development, so the roads were very un-busy and the drivers knew to keep their eyes peeled for children

We created a well thought out track that involved too many twists and turns for Brent to actually get his race car up to full speed. Nonetheless, he was enjoying himself. And I was having fun watching him try to stay in the lines of the thin lanes that we had etched out moments before.

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In an act of spite, our next door neighbors who we regularly beat in water wars (the battles that took place between the two groups were far more intense that your run of the mill water fight) decided to take it upon themselves to destroy our creation and our fun. To be fair, the main instigator was actually a boy that was over at their house. But also to be fair, they provided him with the buckets of water and then joined in.

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I was annoyed with what they were doing and attempted to scatter them like a wolf would its prey. Brent would then be able to pick them off one by one. I chased them in circles through our two yards. This is when the friend boy – we’ll call him Jeffrey – decided that he wanted to ruin Brent’s new toy. Something snapped. Nobody messes with Brent’s toys! My eyes grew wide and red with anger and I charged Jeffrey as he carried his 2nd bucket of water intended for the race car (the 1st one missed because he lacked the basic skills required to meet weapon to target). I did not lack the same skills that Jeffrey did. I approached him like a heat seeking missile, gaining speed the entire time.

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When I hit Jeffrey, it was like a scene from a Discovery Channel documentary. Imagine a great white shark launching her prey into the air, but only injuring him, so that she could return later and finish him off.

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I put both my arms out and struck Jeffrey with all the power behind a full speed sprint. Too bad for Jeffrey we had reached the end of the yard and were now in street territory. It was also unfortunate for him that he decided not to wear a shirt in the warm summer weather. He flew through the air and then proceeded to slide across the street on his bare chest.

The force behind my mighty shove left me in the street on my knees, which were slightly bloodied. Seconds after the incident unfolded, Jeffrey was sprinting to my neighbors’ backyard where the parents were. His entire chest was a mess. I’m sure you all have scraped a knee at some point in your life. Imagine if that scrape was deeper and if instead of it being on your knee it was on your chest.

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I sat in the street with a few tears rolling down my cheeks.

Brent: Are you ok?

Me: Yeah. I don’t want to get in trouble.

Brent: He deserved it. And he’s not going to say anything. You’re a girl.

Me: Okay.

Brent: That was so funny! His was flying through the air parallel to the ground and his feet were still running midair.

Both of us: Hahaha

It’s a good thing that Jeffrey was a boy. If he was a girl, I would be concerned about his ability to nurse his future offspring. But since he’s a boy, he will just have some scars that he can make up some crazy story in an attempt to impress girls. So, it’s really a win win situation.

Sunday, August 7, 2011

Ccoofe!

Recently, feeling a little goofy, I began calling coffee, ccoofe. Shortly after, I began to imagine a character in my head every time I referred to this wonderfully delicious beverage. I’d like to introduce you all to Ccoofe!

Ccoofe is the biggest advocate of drinking coffee. He adheres to a strict schedule of coffee consumption that he enforces to those around him. Ccoofe will resort to trickery to get others to consume his drink of choice. Ccoofe loves drinking coffee.

Ccoofe