ja_koniga

Whenever I want something new, my entire world stops momentarily until I have whatever it is that I’m threatening to kill myself over. SML is getting used to this behavior and stays very calm, sits down to talk with me about the situation and then suggests that maybe I’m “catastrophizing” everything. After he told me that I promptly said to him, “It IS a catastrophe!”

Waiting for online purchases is the worst part of the whole process, because even though you’ve already paid for an item, you can’t have it for four to six business days. When I ordered our new chair from Target.com, I felt anxious for approximately seven and a half days until our shipping order would finally read “Arrived in Salt Lake City; recipient not at home.”

Between Sunday and the next Monday before the chair actually arrived, I was showing SML the chair on a number of devices; first the iMac, then the iPhone, and then the Wii to prove that this chair was more green than mustard and that it would somewhat match our faded purple carpet. I didn’t get very far convincing SML that this chair was perfect because I was nervous that the texture of the chair would resemble matted cat hair like my 2005 comforter purchase from JCPenny.com.

After we did get the chair and SML had thoroughly complained that he was going to have a hernia from lifting more than his body weight, we assembled the chair by attaching the back piece to the bottom piece. It wasn’t too long after that I started thrashing around the empty box saying, “There aren’t any legs!” This fact devastated me because it would spell the end of my online purchases and I’d somehow have to figure out a way to return the chair in a half torn-apart box.

Livid might be a better way to describe the way I felt. I don’t know if it’s because I’m so tired at the end of the work day or because I have a chemical imbalance, but I was ready to murder whoever packaged that chair together; and then use their body parts to feed the new kitty I’d purchase to help me get over my unresolved issues. I called customer support the next day and explained my issue expecting a very fake apology and instructions to wait for the United Postal Service. Instead, a dainty voice on the other line giggled and said, “Did you check inside the chair?”

When I got home later on Tuesday night, I turned the chair over onto its back and read the large label stapled to the bottom Velcro cover that read, “HARDWARE INSIDE.”

Most of the time I put into this website was done on Saturday when SML passed out. He gets that way some afternoons and there is never enough coffee to keep him awake. When we got home around five, he bee-lined into my bedroom and fell face first onto a pillow. I didn’t see him again until seven or so when he got hungry.

While he was sleeping, I stole his phone so I could use his data connection to browse the Internet. I don’t pay for DSL or cable because I’m cheap. This works out, actually, because it keeps me off my computer when I’m at home so I don’t procrastinate on other tasks like clipping my toenails. Important stuff those toenails are.

We just recently figured out how to use SML’s phone as a data connection through Bluetooth. When we tried to set up his Samsung A900 on OS X, the phone would freeze after the connection was established. I solved this by bypassing the setup altogether and setting up a Bluetooth modem connection. This works, but we still can’t browse the phone for photos, etc. It’s hard to say if it’s OS X, or the phone, because OS X doesn’t report any errors. But the phone still freezes.

On a side-note, I hate Sprint. I’ve been a Sprint customer since 2002 and I’ve been too lazy to switch to another company. On my top ten list of bad experiences, Sprint is number seven following that time the Provoans sent me 911 messages and then told Cole to go back to Africa.

Also, ever since I started drinking protein shakes I’ve had to poop a lot less. But for my original point, this site is now table-less. All CSS dude. Boo-yah.

Earlier that day at brunch, I commented to some of SML’s friends that my Grandmother was interested in buying a boxy Scion. It sounds like a joke because it’s hard to imagine a Scion thundering down Ogden’s Washington Blvd. filled with seventy and eighty-year olds. I was always under the impression that Scion’s were marketed to the hipster kids so they could have their fancy customizations. Or to people like SML (who also drives a Scion) who don’t need to prove anything with the size of their vehicles.

The first thing my Grandmother said to me when I saw her at the party was, “Ken, did you see my new car yet? It’s silver, because they didn’t have orange.” Go Grandma!

I'm pretty sure I have a disorder of some kind, I'm just not sure what it is.

Oh, and yay! It's Friday!

There’s a lot of talk in Salt Lake City right now because of the Presidential visit; and it somehow became an excuse for Utah citizens to act like crazy people. When I heard that there would be a “President Bush Appreciation Rally” I knew I had to go. Because I knew they would be the most crazy.

Once we got to Washington Square, SML pinched his face together as though a port-a-potty had exploded and said multiple times, “Everyone here is crazy” and then made his way over to sign-holder to let him know that he spelled “Al-Qaeda” wrong. I retreated to the south side of the square since I felt embarrassed and couldn’t think of a moment when SML has lived up to his “non-confrontational” adjective that he gives himself.

Some of the signs at the rally said things like, “Give WAR a chance” and “Utahn’s love Bush.” It makes me sad that the United States is at war and even more sad that Shaw is leaving soon to go to Iraq. I think there should be some kind of clause against Shaw going over there and it could read something like, “Ken says hell no.”

But I’m really proud of Shaw and all of the troops over there; because if I had to go over there I would certainly pee my pants and bury my head in the ground.

Happiness Sold Separately is a book about a twenty-something living in New York City that’s dealing with an ex-boyfriend and works in data entry. Ryan, possibly the most neurotic person ever, reminds me of myself since she’ll come up with fabulous ideas and then stand still while life passes her by. Last night, just as her ex-boyfriend introduced her to the cliché blonde bimbo fiancé, something hit me. It crashed into my chest like an exploding firecracker; ripping apart my intestines like an angry dog.

It was hunger.

Extreme Hunger. The kind of hunger that haunts me every day when I pass by McDonald’s on 700 east. In the kitchen I browsed the dry food shelves and settled on my roommate’s Pop Secret (I promise to replace that. Later.) I shoved the bag into the microwave and set the time for four minutes and stared at the popcorn bag spinning on a small glass plate.

Stared, and waited. I Impatiently waited for the kernels to explode in buttery freshness and cursed thinking how it shouldn’t ever take four minutes for popcorn to pop. I shouldn’t have to put up with this shit! I felt sweaty in anticipation and began pacing the closet-sized kitchen ready to lie on the floor in a two-year old’s tantrum.

And then it became very clear. I am just like my mother. Because if someone had tried to eat some of my popcorn last night I would have screamed, “GET YOUR OWN!”