Murphy the dog has a new lease on life. A course of antibiotics and anti inflamatory medication and she’s a new dog. In one week, she will be going on a brave new voyage to the land of San Diego where our friend Nova will be taking care of her so we can start our new life plan of being foot loose and fancy free vagabonds of the road.

Her little dog Chin Chin and Murphy have fallen deeply in love. Hopefully they will spend many quiet hours in the sun on the back porch, nuzzling noses and cuddling.

Andy’s and my phone contracts are up. We renewed and got swanky new discounted phones. I have a new bright red camera/mp3 player phone. While I was opening the memory card’s insanely, hard plastic, intensive, welded shut packaging, I cut through the mini cd driver disk.

Andy found it amusing. Even though it wasn’t amusing to me for a few seconds, I got over it and then it was funny. It was even better since the drivers were pre-loaded on my laptop.

Now I am procastinating instead of going to the gym.

I like Frou Frou. They have one song on the Garden State soundtrack. I like most of their other songs equally as well. I’m just saying……

I went to the mall today to wander around, buy nothing and drink a large cup of tea. It was the farthest I’ve driven the new jeep so far. I’ll only drive by myself, since I’m still a little rusty on the stick, and it would be embarrassing with passengers. I passed what I consider to be a big test in the parking lot of Fashion Show Mall. There were so many customers the mall hired guys in orange vests holding lighted wands to direct the epic flow of Christmas shoppers. When I got underground and found a spot, I had to stop on a dime, go the wrong way down a one way and do something like a six point turn to make it, but I did. I didn’t stall, the handling was relatively smooth, and I don’t think I pissed anyone off in the process.

Go me.

no pressure Andy

As far as the maintenance guys are concerned, I had considered the case closed. The night we went back after the “offenders” had been talked to, there was a professional hello without a smirk, and a yellow sign warning us that there were men in the women’s locker room. Granted, it was only one night that we’ve been back, but I felt like they were talked to and the matter had been taken care of.

This weekend, Nova’s boyfriend flew in from San Diego. I’m not sure how it happened, but the subject became re-opened. When Michael and Nova went to work out, they talked to the front desk staff and were given phone numbers to contact management. Nova came home and said that we should call Monday morning and talk to someone about the situation. Since I felt the matter was closed, so I didn’t say much either way.

Last night when I went to work out, the girl at the front desk who’s really nice and always takes time to say hi, said that she wants to talk to me after my work out about “our situation”. I sigh inwardly and say sure.

Afterwards I go up to the desk and explain to her that I thought that the matter was taken care of adequately and no further action was necessary. She said to report it anyway. Then she went on to explain that they had caused other problems, mostly for the staff. They don’t speak any English or pretend not to. They don’t or can’t follow directions on what or where to clean, and have come into the women’s locker room on many occasions unannounced. She basically said, that there was only so much she could say or do as an employee to have her complaints heard and that if I lodged a complaint it would mean much more.

So I guess Monday, we’ll call.

In other news, Mr. X told me not to bug him about updating his journal. Since I’m not bugging him……that’s all I’ve got to say about that.

I think I’ve mentioned it before, but I work part time at a bar on Freemont Street (*warning: this link has dumb and loud music). The tips are good, the atmosphere is fun, and I like getting out of the house. There’s always some sort of hilarity that ensues. Novabella works there too. Sometimes we don’t get home until three or four in the morning. Over the last few months, on the way home, we’ve been stopping off at 24 Hour Fitness to take a shower and sit in the whirlpool for fifteen minutes to ramp down so we can sleep. During the course of the night, we drink quite a bit of Red Bull, the bubbling hot water takes every trace of cigarette smoke and spilled drinks out of your pores, and seems to cut out the speedy and frantic effects of the energy drinks. At four in the morning, we pretty much have the place to ourselves, except for the maintenance guys.

And that’s where the story starts….the maintenance guys. On this particular night (I think this happened on Wednesday) there were two of them. They were hispanic, and didn’t speak, or pretended not to speak any English. While we were soaking, they seemed to find any excuse to walk around the hot tub, fiddle with things and carry equipment to and from the maintenance closet which just happened to be right next to us. It was a little irritating, but I get it. They weren’t leering and perverted, but were interested to see the spectacle of the girls in bikinis with raccoon makeup. It seemed fourth grade, giggly and harmless.

When we were done, we went into the locker room. I decided to take a shower and Nova went to get dressed. When I was done, I walked out of the stall to the hooks on the wall to get my towel. I grabbed it, and before I could totally wrap it around myself, I noticed the two maintenance guys were standing at the door watching me. I yelled, “Excuse me!”. They didn’t move. They just stood there, one holding a mop, and one with a running hose. I walked away toward the lockers. Still their manner still wasn’t threatening, and they seemed like dumb, inexperienced schoolboys. Although, when I put it in writing, it sounds worse. Nova and I talked about it, and decided that if we were going to say something to someone it would have to be the next day since no one was around.

Thursday at three am, we walked into 24 Hour Fitness and swiped our member cards. The guy at the desk that was always there, was there. He’s a pretty nice kid, about 23. He always seems like, or maybe he has, just smoked a joint. Whenever we come in, he says, “Heeeeyyyyyy guys”, in a very Spicoli (*warning: another loud link) manner. We stand at the desk and discuss if we should say something. We tell “Spicoli” what happened. We tell him that we don’t want anyone fired, but to please talk with them. Spicoli says, “I’m cracking skulls”. I tell him that cracking is on the severe side, but if he wanted to shake them a little, that would be okay.

When we came out of the whirlpool, there was a yellow plastic sign warning of men in the women’s locker room. One of the “offenders” was cleaning the sinks when we walked in. We told him we needed “deis minutos” to get dressed. He replied in Spanish. We told him “no comprendo” and repeated “deiz minutos” and I jerked my thumb towards the exit. He replied with another paragraph of Spanish, pretending not to understand so he could stand around talking to the chicas in bikinis. He finally left.

We’re leaving for work in a half an hour. We’ll see what happens tonight.

Novabella and I just went to the mall to wander around, drink some tea and eat some sushi. Before we went in, we stopped at The Love Botique, to look at underwear. They have porn there too, but really, we just wanted some new panties. No really…..just the panties. Anyway, as I walked over a display of stuff that I liked, I saw a creepy looking guy standing in front of it, and as I walked closer, I noticed that his pants were unziped and he was ummm…..how shall I say….playing with himself while looking at the panty rack.

I quickly turned around and walked to the counter and told the sales girl. She said, “Uhhhhhh….I better get the guys for this one”. By the time she had “gotten the guys”, he was gone. I don’t think he “touched” anything, but we didn’t buy anything off of that rack just to be safe.

I don’t know if I officially said it or not. I know I’ve talked about it and we’ve taken steps towards it. But, it is our goal by Aprilish to have this house sold and be living in the newly refurbished recreational vehicle otherwise known as an RV.

When I look around the house sometimes I get overwhelmed because, we have a lot of junk. I’ve started coraling and piling the junk in the office that in my most lofty of theories will be sold on Ebay. My least lofty of theories is that it might all be inventoried and listed on Craigslist in one post under the heading, “Everything Must Go!”.

Then, after all is said and done, there will be the leftover stragglers of junk. The junk that is truly junk; somehow retaining an iota of sentimental value that pulls at my heart every time I try to head to the trash. This is where my strong, stoic husband comes in. I hand him whatever it is that needs disposing of and say, “just do it when I’m not around”.

When we first started talking about the idea of living on the road, it sounded crazy. We we’re really inspired by the Eurovan and started talking about extended trips in it. But for living, a VW bus is on the small side. Then as we talked more and looked around the internet for inspiration. We ended up thinking that an RV would be the best solution, but felt embarrassed. An RV? Isn’t that an old person thing? Isn’t that a cheesy, lame and weird thing? Do we have to wear plaid burmuda shorts? Matching terry cloth sun visors? Will Andy begin to wear black dress socks with his sandals? These questions and more ran through our pretentious, judgemental, narrow minds.

Although, to be fair, these stereotypes might be more prevalent in the midwest where we grew up. Hanging out in California you’re likely to see surfboards, mountain bikes, off road vehicles and motorcycles strapped or trailing on the back of RV. Whereas in the midwest, you’re more likely to see bumper stickers stating: WORLDS BEST GRANDPARENTS or I’M SPENDING MY CHILDREN’S INHERITANCE, and possibly a decal of or an actual American flag flying proudly and a wheel chair scooter trailing behind.

Andy thinks I will like RV life because it will be more adventurous (I’m always up for any experience that makes a good story), we’ll always be out of the house and I get to pee outside more (something I never knew I liked to do before we started traveling). Andy thinks that he will like RV life because he will like the simplicity of having all of our belongings in on small space with no utility bills, trash/recycle days and other such small and large ways in which THE MAN holds you down. He also really likes small, confined spaces. I like small, confined spaces also….not MRI confined, but nest like. The new, revamped Eurovan (I forgot we were calling the RV “the Eurovan”. It just sounds better) is very nest like and comforting. These words may come back to haunt me, but I think we have many fun adventures ahead of us.

I was just filing my nails and a random memory popped into my head. I was twelve, maybe thirteen and attending a “modeling” class at Sears. Yes, Sears and Roebuck, that Sears. We were taking part in “grooming” lessons. The instructors had given out little bags of finger/toenail paraphernalia; clippers, a buffer, the little stick to push down your cuticles and a nail file. I also recall a small clear dish of liquid and cotton balls (Madge! You’re soaking in it!???). They were showing us how to file in only one direction, first at one angle, then the other and finally the tip. Then to smooth around the the whole top to make it a ellipse.

On that day, was the only time I ever filed my nails in that manner. Ridiculous. When I file my nails, my teeth are involved, and a circular saw if I’m so inclined.

I also remember at the end of the class there was some sort of fashion show. When it was my turn, I strutted to the end of the runway, and did my little turn on the catwalk (*on the catwalk, on the catwalk*). While each pre teen model hopeful was walking, some Sears beauty official was on a microphone reading off an index card that every girl had filled out earlier. The only part I remember about my card is that it said that I either wanted to be a kindergarten teacher or a vet. She read that part when I was at the end of the turn staring directly at the audience. When I heard it, I thought, “how dumb”. I didn’t really want to be those things, I just felt pressure to put something good down. I rolled my eyes and shrugged a little. It was perfect comedic timing. The audience laughed. My modeling career was over before it began, but my future as a smart ass ham would flourish and still does to this day.

On a slightly different note, we bought a new toilet today for the RV. We brought it home, opened the box only to find out that it had already been used! It had the stench of smelly blue chemicals, the bottom was scuffed, and Andy said that he saw a *ahem* hair. I would tell you more about it, but I’m hoping that Mr. X will post his well written angry letter to Camping World for you to read.

I have no desire to write a journal entry right now.