goodness, life, manfolk, school

No rest for the awesome

I haven’t had time to write a new post recently due to too much awesome shit happening to/around me.  Let me just put down some quick updates on every relevant topic.

so cute, i’m so proud of her

Old Home, New Owner
Diminutive Roommate has received a sideways-promotion to Diminutive Friend, due to her purchase of a house in the valley.  She moved in and started tearing up some truly hideous shag carpet and disco linoleum to show some beautiful wood floors underneath, and has plans to install central air (because it’s the valley, duh).  She’s excited, but was worried about living alone (since I won’t be able to move in with her after all).  But it turns out our other friend is moving in with her because of lame roommate problems.  Let’s call her Busy/Genius Friend depending on the situation, because she’s wicked smart, but cannot arrive anywhere on time, nor make solid plans due to keeping way too busy.  She’s also a really hard worker and very resourceful, so she’ll help Diminutive Friend improve the house like crazy, which is awesome.  I’m gonna help out too, if I ever get my life back.  We’re all pretty excited for her, can’t wait to harass her over there with board games and sleepovers 🙂

 

our tea collection is unrivaled

Moving in With a Handsome Man
I’m moving in with Boyfriend!  He’s been living in his grandfather’s house (now that his grandfather has passed away) for the past two years or so rent-free.  His family is allowing me to move in for $600 rent since I’m a student (which is very generous of them, knowing I’ve been paying $850 at my old place).  I’ve basically been staying at the house for the last month to get used to the idea of living here with permanence so it’s not a system shock to either of us (so far so good; Boyfriend keeps saying stuff like, “This is fun!  It’s fun having you here all the time.  This is gonna be great.“).  All the heavy lifting has been done by Boyfriend and dad (hutch to my folks’ place, refrigerator to rental garage near Highland, bookcase and bed and white bookshelf  at the house).  We finished taking just about everything this past weekend.  Moving is awesome because it’s a great way to purge myself of crap I haven’t used in a while.  I long for a simple life, but I can’t seem to get rid of a lot of stuff because they all come with memories I can’t bear to part with, or they’re things I’ll be proud to show off to my future friends/kids, or I need those damn clothes for work, etc.

i made this

Graduate School (or Why I Have No Life)
My first semester of graduate school is winding down (just two weeks left) and winding up (three papers and a video due within two weeks).  I haven’t been able to fall asleep without lying awake for two hours first.  My mind won’t slow down.  I can’t seem to calm myself down about school.  I have so much reading to do on top of the assignments, I seem to spend all my time trying to get them done before class that I’m worried I won’t have time to write papers or make time for friends.  I’m always wishing I had gotten more done.  I’ve started reminding myself while I lie awake that I’m doing my best (which is true, I’m going to beat the shit out of this grad school program), and because of that, I am allowed to sleep.  It doesn’t seem to be helping much, but I’ll keep trying.

“i fell.”

Zombie Kitten
I picked up the kitten I rescued from the vet on July 25th, and he’s been living at Boyfriend’s house ever since.  He’s HILARIOUS.  We both wish we could keep him, but Boyfriend’s family says we can’t have a pet here at the house 😦  Boyfriend and I  are super sad about it.  We’re pretty attached to him, he’s so funny.  He loves falling asleep on our laps, purrs super loud (he purred in my lap for a solid hour today), and chases after a laser pointer like his life depends on it.  He’s also really chatty, which can get annoying, especially during class when he circles my chair and whines about not being on my lap, then attempts to jump onto my lap but can’t quite make it, so he digs his razor-sharp claws into my legs (I’m still healing from the last four attempts).  That’s not so much fun.  Otherwise he’s awesome, and we’re sad to have to get rid of him.  The good news is that I found a nice person to take him 🙂  Now all we have to do is make friends with this person so we can come visit Zobo all the time, hahaha.

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badness, goodness, life, martial arts

Worth it

It just occurred to me that I started this blog a couple years after Boyfriend and I got together, but I’ve never posted how it all went down.  It was pretty spectacular as “And that’s how I met your father” stories go.  It started innocently enough, snuggling and watching a shitty movie at a friend’s place, followed by drunken violence and, in the end, love.  This is the account I wrote half a year after the fact.  Bear in mind that I must have told this story dozens of times within those six months, so my memory of the events was still crystal clear.

Everything that follows is the truth as it happened, the night I got my first kiss out of my then-crush, now-Boyfriend.

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if only i had given this any serious thought

We were watching a movie (Van Helsing) at our friends’ apartment around 2am.  Boyfriend had finished work on a shoot pretty late, but had promised to bring me milk tea (with no boba) as an excuse to see him, and he did.  One of the girls who lives there (Drunken Acquaintance) came home with a friend of hers from work (Crazypants) who we had never met before.  They had just been out drinking and were completely sloshed, so they went to pee.  Next thing you know, Crazypants is making a beeline for the door, mumbling about going home and “tell Drunken Acquaintance I’m sorry” or something.  Boyfriend said “Wait, is she going to drive?!”  So he ran outside to stop her and I ran up stairs to get Drunken Acquaintance.  Drunken Acquaintance and I got outside to find Boyfriend trying to reason with sloshed Crazypants, to no avail (“Get the fuck out of my way, you fucking asshole,” etc.).  Drunken Acquaintance tried reasoning with Crazypants (which, if you’ve ever seen two drunks having an argument, is actually pretty boring), and 20 minutes later, had made no progress.  In fact, the only change was Crazypants’s sudden and inexplicable hatred for me (“Who is this bitch?  Look at her, she’s a slut, she’s fucked everyone I know,” etc.).

Eventually, she made a break for her car parked just around the corner, and Boyfriend went to stop her.  Drunken Acquaintance in the meantime had a miniature nervous breakdown and started sobbing in the middle of the street.  After reminding her that we needed her help to stop her friend, she got herself together, and we turned the corner toward Crazypants’s car only to find Boyfriend pinned between Crazypants and her car, being physically accosted by her, and dodging her punches as best he could without fighting back.  Well, that wasn’t really ok with me, so I yelled at her to stop.  She didn’t like that one bit, and decided that she would rather attack me than get into her car, so she left Boyfriend alone and started after me.

That’s when I started to get a little worried.  It was clear at this point that she was fuelled by rage.  I liked her better when she was just hell-bent on getting into her car.

With five years worth of martial arts training under my belt, I’m glad to say that when my reflexes took over, they did a pretty good job. She gave me a right hook, which I caught and pinned under my left arm, then a left hook, which I caught and placed in my left hand.  So there we were, facing each other, both her arms pinned to my left, and me with a free right hand.  I should have just pummeled her right then, but I didn’t want to hurt her; I just wanted her keys (mistake!).  In my mind, she was still and friend of a friend, when really she was just an assailant that didn’t deserve the restraint I exercised.  So I went groping behind my back for her keys while Boyfriend came up behind her and held her arms.  That gave me the chance to let go of her hands, turn around, and go for the keys in earnest.

Well, giving her my back was a big mistake.  The next thing I knew she had sunk her teeth into my left shoulder.  And I don’t mean like she bit down and released.  I mean she bit me, and then bit down harder and harder, and refused to let go.  Like a bulldog.  Like a crazy, vicious bulldog (I was wearing a tank top, so she bit straight into the skin).  It was only at that point, when her mouth was full of shoulder, that she stopped screaming obscenities at Boyfriend and me.  Our peace was not to last.

Needless to say, getting her keys went from priority one to priority two, and it was time for my reflexes to take the wheel again.  I reached back with my right hand and pushed my thumb into her left eye.  She did not react.  I pushed harder, and felt my thumb slip into her eye socket.

It’s amazing how many tiny calculations you do in your head during an emergency situation.  At that point I realized that if I went any further, I might seriously injure her, or worse, blind her.  That was not my objective.  I wanted her keys, and I wanted the altercation to end with as low a level of gross damage to all parties as possible.

I had a choice to make: get the bulldog to stop sinking its teeth into my flesh by hurting it (potentially permanently), or take the pain of a wild animal latched onto my soft, fleshy shoulder until I could figure out some other way to get it off.

I chose to not hurt her.  I chose to let her keep biting me while I thought of another plan of attack.  A half second later, I took my thumb out of her eye, put my whole hand against her face, and pushed hard.  That got her off me, but she was still clamped down so I figure that’s when she broke the skin.

Boyfriend, in the meantime, had reached up and was just placing his hand around her throat to choke her enough to get her mouth to release when I gave her face a good shove.  So he got his grip on her arms again, and I twisted her wrist just enough to get the keys from her hand.  I called to Boyfriend “I got ‘em,” we both jumped away from her, and she came after me again.  I have never seen a drunk person walk so quickly, in such a straight line before.  It was pretty impressive.

That’s when Crazypants decided that she would call the police.  She figured that after accosting Boyfriend and chewing on me, she was the victim since we were taking her keys.  Boyfriend and I said “YES, CALL THE POLICE.”  She went for her phone while Boyfriend and I double-timed it back to the apartment.  I hid the keys in a low cabinet in the kitchen, and we got the hell out of there.

We walked the two blocks to Boyfriend’s apartment.  I noticed for the first time that the night was cool for summer, though the pavement was warm under my bare feet.  Boyfriend offered to split a beer to calm us down.  I said we should probably have zero alcohol in our blood if the cops show up, and he agreed.  I sat on his bed and watched my hands shake for a few minutes.  My heart was still pounding.  Boyfriend pulled me into the bathroom to check out my shoulder under better light.  It was ugly.  I glanced at it, but didn’t bother getting a good look.  I knew it wasn’t pretty from the way it was yelling at me.

I laid down with him and watched cartoons for a couple hours.  After a while, he turned out the lights, let the computer sleep and closed his eyes.  He managed to catch two hours sleep before he left for work the next morning.

I slept for about 20 minutes total (I was still wired from the fight, I kept jerking awake to check on Boyfriend), and my shoulder hurt badly for a few days.  But I got a goodnight kiss, and the rest is history.  I spent the night at his place for the next month or so, and we’ve been together ever since.

EPILOGUE:

The next day I called Drunken Acquaintance to discuss the previous night’s events. She apologized about a dozen times (to which I said, “Don’t worry about it, it’s not your fault, you’re not the one who bit me”), then gave me Crazypants’s email address.  I emailed Crazypants, with cc to Drunken Acquaintance and Boyfriend, saying something like “Hey there, I’d like to reintroduce myself, as our last meeting was under some unfortunate circumstances,” and “Let’s sit down and talk about what happened.  This will not be a finger-pointing exercise, I just want to clear up what happened, and make sure it never happens again.”

Her response: “Sorry about the other night, I don’t think it’s necessary to meet.”  The end.

Well that wasn’t exactly the answer I was looking for, so after consulting my parents (who advised me against doing ANYTHING, even contacting Crazypants after the fight), Boyfriend and I went to a nearby police station and pressed charges.  We got a few calls from a nice lady detective, who passed the case on to the City Attorney’s office.  I was called in to tell my side of the story to a very nice man in that office.

He said he would probably offer Crazypants a plea (anger management classes, and attending AA sessions), which she could accept, or the city would prosecute her in court.  I said I hope she takes the plea, I’m not out for blood.  He said, “Don’t worry, they always take the plea.”  I guess she did because I haven’t heard from the City Attorney’s office or from her since (which is fine with me).

The case worker in the city attorney’s office was impressed by my behavior in his office (my candidness and sense of humor about the attack), and my mentality and reactions during the fight.  He asked if I had ever considered being a cop.  “You’re a natural.  You don’t see that in families that don’t have cops in them.  It’s really unusual.  You’re just a natural.”  My dad steered me out of there pretty quick.

That was six months ago, and things are going just fine.  I have a small scar from where she bit me.  It occasionally itches and gives me street cred.

————————————

I wrote the above three years ago.  It was a catalyzing experience; it drew Boyfriend and I together rapidly and inexorably over the next month.  I wasn’t at ease when he wasn’t around.  I worried about him when we were apart.  I spent every night with him, and had so much trouble leaving in the morning I was often late for work.  On the lighter side, I got to come to Boyfriend’s rescue!  I’ve reminded him about that a few times; it usually comes out something like, “I love you, Boyfriend.  I would protect you from anything.  I already did, remember?  Yeah, like that.  I’ll beat her up next time.  Stupid Chompy-face.”  I actually call him Boyfriend instead of by his name all the time, too.  When I tell the story now, I call my attacker Bitey McSnappyPants.  It paints a more accurate picture.

I visited an emergency room not far from my apartment within a couple of days of the fight to get shots.  I wasn’t sure what I needed, so when I walked in and the nurse asked me how she could help me, I said, “I got bitten.  What kind of shots do I need for something like that?”  She asked what kind of dog.  “Human dog,” I said.  She called a few other nurses over while she got a couple hypodermic needles ready to shoot me full of antibiotics or something.  It was a slow night in the ER, so I got a lot of attention, and some pretty good snacks.  My short visit didn’t cost me more than $25 as I recall (I’ve always had health insurance), and the nurses were kind.

What did I get out of it, in the end?  A pretty good story, a scar that faded and eventually went away within a couple of years, and a handsome, funny, smart boyfriend who I love (and loves me back).  Overall, worth it.

UPDATE: October 13, 2012
I was just looking over old emails and found this gem.  Old Buddy is a friend of Boyfriend’s, and was our mutual contact with Drunken Acquaintance.
“On a lighter note, Old Buddy has been enormously helpful on the topic: “She bit, but you eye gouged, neither is a legal move.  The fans demand a rematch.”  Then he sent me a photo of Mike Tyson biting Evander Holyfield’s ear.  Thanks, Old Buddy; let the healing begin.”

Apparently the scar hasn’t completely gone away 😦  But Boyfriend and I are still together, so the whole thing was still worth it in my book.

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humor, life

I’m talkin’ ’bout zobos here, people

i'm gonna go with 'probably'

I’ve been writing a zombie novel for the last… year or so.  Although I haven’t done any writing for it in at least half a year.  Regardless, I need to get back on that, because I love to write, and zombies are just a great subject.  How much time have my friends and I spent chatting about what we would do in case of a zombie apocalypse?

The plan is roughly this: weapons, allies, supplies, in that order.

Weapons
We go to Sport Chalet, and pick up some aluminum bats.  They’re an ideal weapon because they’re light, fairly compact, they never wear out, they never run out of ammo, and they require very little upkeep (rust would be an issue eventually).  We also need to pick up some paintball masks to guard our mouths and eyes from any splattering zombie heads (which would be pretty excessive, what with the bats).  Plus, masks are fucking scary, and if we want to intimidate another group of people, masks can only help.  They would also lend to the group a sense of uniformity and solidarity; both essential when shit gets hairy because during a big fight, we have to be able to distinguish living from undead, and we have to watch each other’s backs.
Personally, I’d love to get my hands on a samurai sword, since they’re sharp as shit and my arms would get tired (and then ripped) after swinging that bat all over.  They’re so efficient; you don’t need a huge wind-up to get the job done (although if the dismembered head could still bite, this could prove to be a problem in the future.  Best to eliminate the problem entirely by smashing the head into oblivion).

Allies
Find your crew and stick together.  Being a loner is good for the sake of simplicity, but it makes sleeping, bathing, urinating, and pretty much everything else you do without your friend Aluminum Bat in your hands hazardous.  Someone has to be there to yell, “Watch out!” when that zobo you thought you took care of comes crawling out from under a car.  And people need to interact with each other.  It keeps the mind alert and relaxed in (what I would imagine) would otherwise be a mind-numbing, frantically stressful existence.

Supplies
When I say supplies, I mean basic stuff like rations, toiletries and clothing.  This stuff is last because with enough armed allies, you can take whatever you want from whomever you want.  The zombie apocalypse will be a war zone.  Survival is priority one.  Brutal, but true.

I’ve got zobos on the brain because I just watched Zombieland with some friends, and omg that shit was hilarious.  So much better than I thought it would be.  The kid with the rules?  Awesome.  My personal favorite?  The double-tap.  That’s just good policy.  I’m on board with that.

I’ve been writing a zombie novel for the last… year or so.  Although I haven’t done any writing for it in at least half a year.  Regardless, I need to get back on that, because I love to write, and zombies are just a great subject.  How much time have my friends and I spent chatting about what we would do in case of a zombie apocalypse?  The plan is generally this: weapons, allies, supplies, in that order.Weapons
We go to Sport Chalet, and pick up some aluminum bats.  They’re an ideal weapon because they’re light, fairly compact, they never wear out, they never run out of ammo, they require very little upkeep (rust would be an issue eventually).  We also need to pick up some paintball masks to guard our mouths and eyes from any splattering zombie heads (which would be pretty excessive, what with the bats).  Plus, masks are fucking scary, and if we want to intimidate another group of people, masks can only help.  They would also lend to the group a sense of uniformity and solidarity; both essential when shit gets hairy because during a big fight, we have to be able to distinguish living from undead, and we have to watch eachother’s backs.
Personally, I’d love to get my hands on a samurai sword, since they’re sharp as shit and my arms would get tired (and then ripped) after swinging that bat all over.  They’re so efficient; you don’t need a huge wind-up to get the job done (although if the dismembered head could still bite, this could prove to be a problem in the future.  Best to eliminate the problem entirely by smashing the head into oblivion).

Allies
Find your crew and stick together.  Being a loner is good for the sake of simplicity, but it makes sleeping, bathing, urinating, and pretty much everything else you do without your friend Aluminum Bat in your hands hazardous.  Soemone has to be there to yell, “Watch out!” when that zobo you thought you took care of comes crawling out from under a car.  And people need to interact with eachother.  It keeps the mind alert and relaxed in (what I would imagine) would otherwise be a mind-numbing, frantically stressful existence.

Supplies
When I say supplies, I mean basic stuff like rations, toiletries and clothing.  This stuff is last because with enough armed allies, you can take whatever you want from whomever you want.  The zombie apocalpyse will be a war zone.  Survival is priority one.  Brutal, but true.

I’ve got zobos on the brain because I just watched Zombieland with some friends, and omg that shit was hilarious.  The kid with the rules?  Awesome.  My personal favorite?  The double-tap.  That’s just good policy.  I’m on board with that.

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