Everybody's Talking 'bout Noises and Voices and Choices...

Miss me?

Yeah, I missed you too. I still don't have "the hook up" at my new apartment, but I will soon. It's one of those things I have yet to "get around to", and I still haven't decided between DSL and Cable. (If you suggest dial up, you will be mocked. A lot.)

Moving out is anti-climatic. Everyone's been asking me what it's like to finally have my own apartment, not have to live by "grownup rules" and be out of the basement, but it's really not that exciting. Ok, wait, being out of the basement rocks, but I miss Grandma. The concept of living with people who are not family is still a very odd one to me. Keith is pretty cool (when I see him), but mostly I'm on my own when I'm at the apartment.

I have Puerto Rican neighbors upstairs and down, and I THINK that they are all part of one family, with Keith and I sandwiched in between. The reason I think so is because I see the same folks upstairs and down, and there's a lot of running around on the stairs. That's not bad. What IS bad, and when I say bad I mean, "Dear God kill me now" bad, is the music. I love music. I love loud music. But my upstairs AND downstairs neighbors must have gone to Big-Ass Subwoffers R Us and asked for the biggest, most neighbor annoying subwoofer on the market... and purchased three each. I get headaches. Saturday afternoon it's making the dishes rattle in the cabinet, which is bad enough, but at four in the morning, it's still going on a quieter level that still makes it's way through my bed frame. I don't know when they sleep. I tried to counter: Phish, Nerf Herder (!), Queen, the Darkness, John Lennon's Give Peace a Chance, complete with me jumping on the floor in time to the bass drum... I don't think they got the hint.

My neighbor upstairs (or down...) is pregnant. She's around my age, and I know it's a girl because of the pink balloons at the baby shower. I got home and she was sitting on the steps talking with some of the other neighbors and I had to chomp my tongue to keep from saying anything: she had a beer in one hand and a cigarette in the other. I couldn't help it, I gave her Mrs. Pratt's Look of Death as I walked by.

I'm cooking a lot, which is cool. I made my own tuna the other day, then learned the hard way that you can't eat week old leftover tuna. Gross. I also learned you shouldn't buy perishables in bulk when you're one person. Unless it's apple sauce; I can eat that stuff daily.

If you're in the 'hood, call and stop by; I love company!