Comedy of Errors

With the usual craziness that invades my daily activities, I've become pretty accustomed to almost any unexpected, unusual, and sometimes messy occurance of events. Occasionally, however, this craziness turns into more of a comedy of errors, usually ending up with me treating my clothing with Shout.

I had two episodes this weekend that tested my patience, worked my nerves, and definitely resulted in soaking my jeans in Biz. First, I spent the majority of Saturday night tending the chaos otherwise known as my nieces and nephew. I am now in complete understanding of why my sister never gets anything done. Who has the time to clean when you are chasing three little ones, who miraculously move faster than you do? After five hours of wiping runny noses, changing poo-poo diapers, and rocking and singing every lullaby I can think of, I'm convinced that I'm never having kids.

On Sunday, I had a minor disagreement with my deep fryer while attempting to make apple fritters. I would never claim to be an excellent chef, but I like to think that I can follow directions in a recipe. However, after two batches of what can only be described as a congealed ball of glue and marvelling at how this insanity could result in anything edible (which, of course, it really didn't), I gave up and resorted to whipping up an old standby. Since I abandoned the mess, I think the aforementioned goo is now growing something entirely new in my kitchen sink.

Never let it be said that a day with me is boring....

And all is right with the world...well, sort of......

A miraculous event is upon us...the return of the best show on television, 24!!! Due to the excitement, I figured that I must post some commentary on this miraculousness. As most of you already know, I am physically and emotionally unavailable during 24 and since it is aligned on the same night as Prison Break, I may be forced to go krav on your ace if you ever attempt to contact/distract me on Monday nights....

24's plot centers on the one and only man who has any ability whatsoever to save the world from complete and total annihilation, Jack Bauer. My screensaver actually scrolls the following phrase: "In 96 hours, Jack Bauer has killed 93 people and saved the world 4 times. What have you done??" (and that only counts the first four seasons!) The man is, quite literally, the man. In the first night of the season premiere, he stabbed one guy, ripped another man's throat out with his teeth, escaped a terrorist mastermind, sidestepped an air missile strike, kicked a suicide bomber off of a moving subway, and clubbed a dude with a log. Jack Bad-A must know at least 486 different ways to kill someone.

Granted, the show takes serious liberties with time, resources, and coincidence, but who cares? It's marvelous entertainment. In fact, the only thing I have trouble accepting is why the other people on the show ever question Jack's assessment of the situation. Let's see, he's only been right every single freakin' time he's ever spoken; why wouldn't they question his judgment? Why not be skeptical of the one dude who single-handedly saved the world on at least 5 different occasions?

Oh, one more thing I don't get....if they keep killing off main characters, they are going to run out of people to kill! Although, after the deaths of Palmer, Tony, Michelle, and Edgar, (oh, and Jack a few times!), I'm kind of unshockable at this point. It's just not an episode of 24 unless someone who seems critical to the storyline dies...or there is an unthinkable explosion of some sort. (Tonight's episode: 2 for 2)

Now, aside from the fact that there was a nuclear explosion in Los Angeles and there are at least four more on the way, all is right with the world. And since Prison Break also returns next week, I now get to sit glued to the edge of my seat for the next five months. Yes!!!!

Bang your hairdryer and stomp your feet...

There are many reasons why I prefer a second-floor apartment, but at the topof the list is the fact that I never have to hear people stomping around in their apartment above my head or making disturbing amounts of noise that upset my daily activities. Living on top means the noise factor drops significantly...it's the perk of climbing 17 steps every day with sacks of groceries or my golf clubs or magazine boxes that weigh at least 200 pounds.

Ironically enough, I (un-shockingly) have the most unbelievably noisy downstairs neighbors. Now, let me add a small disclaimer on noise: I have absolutely no idea of the noise level of my music or TV. However, I am quite certain that it doesn't rattle my ceiling, which is in fact, exactly what my neighbors do, thus rattling my floor. I've never been through an earthquake, but i have a sneaking suspicion that I am registering at least a 5.0 on the Richter scale on an almost daily basis. I have, on more than one occasion, been inclined to knock on their door and plead for my sanity and their eardrums (Me: "Really? at 9:30 in the morning?" or "For the love of Pete, why must you do this during my 102-degree temperature??"). On all these occasions, I wussed out on the grounds that I know nothing about these people and felt that a poor way to introduce myself. And I'm not the sort to tattle to the landlords, so I have lived with this travesty for the past 8 months.

Tonight, I finally reached my limit.

At 11pm this evening, when everything in my house, including the light fixtures, began to shake (and I verified that it wasn't due to the train tracks or the end of the world) I actually screamed in total frustration and proceeded to bang my hairdryer on the floor. Convinced that this was insufficient to stop the madness, I stood up and threw a ravenous fit that included me stomping my feet over and over and jumping up and down until it ceased.

I think I got my point across...

but now I have to buy a new hairdryer....

Money well spent..............