The nails are off, but the pounds are not

Teachers, that movie starring Nick Nolte and a not-that-young-but-looks-12 Ralph Macchio, was on when I got home last night. I love that movie. It came out when I was just starting college with the firm belief that I would be a teacher one day. I wanted to be that teacher who cared about the kids and was willing to buck the system to make sure they learned. Ah, to be young and idealistic.

So, while watching that and lamenting my lost youth and innocence, I slowly picked away at my nails. Eventually, sometime around Archers of Loaf performing on Late Night with Jimmy Fallon, the last nail came off. I am typing like a pro now. Of course, my fingertips are ultra sensitive and my cuticles look like crap, but the acrylics are gone. Hooray!

Unfortunately, Thursday night's work event, which included happy hour hors d'oeuvres, and appetizers like avocado and ahi, Parmesan fries and chicken fingers, not to mention plenty of wine and champagne, did me in on the scale this morning at Weight Watchers. I gained--significantly! Well, I know a blogger who will be walking extra laps around the building this coming week. It's bad enough I'm already planning the damage I'm going to do when I go back home in a week and eat all kinds of good back-home foods.

Who knew quality workmanship could be so annoying?

It's been about a month since the last time I had my nails done. I have acrylics and a month between visits means a lot of growth-- a LOT of growth.

Ordinarily, this wouldn't matter because by the time nails grow out this much, most of the acrylics are popping off anyway. Not so in my case. The guy I go to does a really great job and there is absolutely no lift at all with these tips. They are, all ten of them, firmly planted on top of my natural nails. And that's the problem. I can't afford to get my nails done anymore, not with repaying two student loans concurrently. They're too long. They are getting in the way and making typing cumbersome. I just want them off. I could, I suppose, poke and prod and try to chip them off, but that hurts. Does anyone know how to relatively painlessly (and cheaply) remove acrylic nails?

Also, I realize that I really need to moisturize my hands more. They look bad.

[Update]: The pinky nails have popped off! I'm 20% there!

A Tale of Two Harrys and a Hutch

Hi. It's been a while. I know. My friend got a new job and it's been so lonely at work. (waaahhhh)

Anywho...

Last Tuesday, said friend picked me up at work around 6:00 and we zipped on over to the

downtown Central Library to see Harry and the Potters. Who? You can read about them here. They are brothers with a band who played their entire set as Harry Potter--each of them-

-one year four and the other year seven. Don't be confused; just go with it.

Harry, Year 4 (left) and Harry, Year 7 (right) with temporary drummer.

The crowd consisted of the very young, the fairly old, and every age in between, and everyone

had a great time...except the poor injured bird behind us that these nerds insisted was dead. It totally wasn't. The nerds were super nerdy--like socially awkward and everything--but the girls

they were with were cute and hip. At first we thought the girls were just using them for a ride to the show, or help with their Trig homework, but then the chubbiest and nerdiest of all the boys starts hugging and loving up one of the girls and it was kind of uncomfortable to watch.

Confused nerdy boys, and Criss giving the whole show an enthusiastic Thumbs Up!

In order to get validation, we went inside the library where I paid an overdue fine of $1.60. While I was paying and getting validation, Criss helped herself to a poster on the bulletin board. What? The show was over and I'm sure they were just going to throw it away.

The Harrys signing Criss's pilfered poster.

Afterwards, Criss and I went over to Weiland's Underground Brewery for a drink and some eats. It being a Tuesday and after 7pm, we missed any tids and bits, so we got ordered some chili, chips and dip, and a couple of beers. Then, I recognized a guy at the bar. There were only three or four people in the entire bar, besides us, so I called his name and hey, what do you know. It was Hutch, an old friend from court reporting school. Hutch and his cute friend*, Mark, joined us at our table. Mark left when the conversation turned to reach-arounds and fisting (purely innocent, I assure you), but we chatted with Hutch for a good long time.

That's Hutch on the far left.

Positively Creeptastic!

So, remember back in February when I posted about someone opening the gnome door? Well, not to be all Goldilocks & the Three Bears, but someone's been in my bathroom.

Here's the sitch: I came home yesterday and the welcome mat was askew. I'm the kind of gal who likes her welcome mat to be straight so I would never have left it askew. I blamed it on the mail carrier, straightened it, and thought nothing of it. I went about my business of making dinner, popping a movie in the DVD player, and relaxing. Around 9ish, I paused the movie to go pee. It was at this time that I noticed a makeup brush on the floor. Now, I didn't put make up on yesterday, so the brush should have been nestled in the mug on the windowsill with the other brushes. I looked up at the windowsill and....THE MUG HAD BEEN MOVED!!! (cue the creepy music now) It was about 4 inches away from its original position, and I had the dust ring to prove it, which I wiped up because nothing points out ones slovenly ways like a moved mug. Also, the window had been opened and the weather stripping removed, but not disposed of-- it was left in a wad between the window and the screen. Curious.

Sufficiently creeped out, I started investigating the whole apartment. What else had been touched? Armed with my closest weapon (a butter knife), I opened the closet in the bathroom. It looked kind of empty, well, emptier than usual. I tried thinking about what had been in the closet, but for the life of me I can't remember anything specific. Maybe I HAD moved the coats from the bar to the hooks last time I was in here. I don't remember. I feel like someone is trying to "Gaslight" me.

I checked the bedroom closet, too, but saw no signs of disturbance. Still, I was uneasy. You see those news stories about women whose building managers are coming in and wearing their panties and such. Not that I suspect the Frau--her knees are really bad these days and if she climbed the stairs to my apartment, it wouldn't be to mess around in my bathroom. She'd have fixed the leaky sink that I asked her to fix nine days ago. I know her son comes over and does stuff sometimes (according to Gladys Kravitz downstairs), but I've never seen him and if it was him, why isn't anything fixed?

Now, before you all start yelling "Change your locks!" and "MOVE"*--I don't have the money to change my locks right now, and even if I do, I still have to give The Frau the key in case of emergencies. Moving? I'd love to. Does anyone know a sympathetic landlord in a not-too-bad part of town who would let me make installment payments on my security deposit? Because that's the only way I'd be able to do it. Needless to say, I didn't get much sleep last night and I'm a bundle of crankiness today.

And hey, if you see any videos of me on the Internet, let me know. I mean, I checked for hidden cameras, but they're so tiny and easily hidden these days.

*I also can't report it to the police because there's no sign of forced entry, I can't say if anything was taken, and I can't really prove that anyone was in there other than my knowing that the mug hasn't been moved in months.

In which our team wins the drinking round and the Canucks win with 18.5 seconds left to play

Since our regular pub was closed on Monday, we had to venture off to faraway lands to play trivia. And by faraway, I mean Silverlake. In a classic "I'll take the low road and you take the high road, and I'll be in Silverlake before ye," I asked my friend if she wanted my directions. She said, "No Thanks, I printed my own." Then, I saw her turn toward the 110 freeway and wanted to call her and tell her to turn back before it was too late, but I left my cell phone at home and I don't call when driving. I took Alvarado to Glendale to Fletcher and Riverside and arrived 20 minutes before the rest of my team.

Trivia was rough. The local Silverlake teams are particularly good and we struggled at the bottom of the pack all night. Thanks to a last minute "double or nothing," we redeemed ourselves to finish second to last. But the real win of the evening was the drinking round. The drinking round (winning teams wins a round of drink tokens) is usually something silly and arbitrary, like Apples to Apples or "draw the quiz master." Last night, however, it was "Name That Tune." Oh, man; our teams rocks! We got 8 out of 10 songs and won! However, at this venue, the drinking round is immediate and the prize is a pitcher of beer. Did I mention my team doesn't drink beer? I had a Dos Equis for myself so as not to waste the win.

And did anyone watch the Hockey game? Scoreless until the very last minute and then--BAM--Torres scores! Hip checks, finger biting--what's not to love?