Let me just repeatedly bash this random pipe with my heavy machinery...

Ok, new post.  Here's what's been going on lately.  I've started P90x and it's really hard, blah blah blah, let me get to the thrust (I just said thrust) of my entry- the asshats that are building the unnecessary roundabout near my neighborhood.  Now this project is already beyond annoying to begin with, because they closed the main way for us to get downtown, or basically anywhere.  They also have the second best way to get anywhere closed.  So, basically we have to chug along down a two-lane road with all the other suckers who decided to live up here.  Then, you add the disastrous events of these week.

Father's Day night Scott and I were driving home from St. Louis and I got a phone call from a 573 (Columbia) number at about 8:30.  They didn't leave a message, so I had no idea who was calling me.  Meantime, we go about our business.  On Tuesday, I get another missed call from the same number, again no message.  And when I tried to call back it was a dead line.  So like two hours later the SAME number calls again, and this time I answer.  It's an automated message from the City of Columbia telling me to disregard the all-clear phone call that I had gotten earlier in the day, because they had broken another water main.  At this point I was like wtf is going on?  So I log into the city's website to find out that a water main broke Sunday night, and they had issued a boil-alert for everyone in our area of Columbia.  Well, since the automated message didn't leave a voicemail, Scott and I had been drinking dirty poo water for about two days.  Then, they fixed it, only to break ANOTHER water main 2 hours later.  So, we stuck to our bottled water.  I briefly worried about the dogs drinking the water, until I remembered they drink lake water and eat cat shit.  They're probably fine.

Apparently it takes two clean water samples (aka two days) before they can lift the boil alert.  So we lived like 1700s pilgrims for a few days.

It's Scott and me.  I swear.

Thursday arrives, and I wait in gleeful anticipation of the "all-clear" automated message.  And this guy doesn't disappoint.  I imagine the guy who recorded the message looked like one of these hotties:

 "Good evenin' Columbia utility customer.  The boilin' order is over.  You can resume drinkin' yur water like normal."

Hooray! We were free to drink our water without boiling it 3rd world slum style.  And then yesterday happened.

After an intense 90 minute P90x workout, and an even more exhausting 2 hours in the 95-degree heat mowing the yard, I was in dire need of a shower.  So I turn on the bathtub faucet and after a few seconds of clean water, I get the air pressure sounds, and then nasty brown water comes shooting out of the faucet and into the tub.  Oh. My. God.  It was disgusting.  I ran to get my camera, running right by the front door butt naked as my neighbor was walking her dog (awkward), and all for not.  By the time I got back the water had cleared.  I let it run for a few minutes before I showered, and as I was drying off I got another automated message call.  The twatwaffles (I owe that new fun word to my dear friend Leah...shoutout) broke a THIRD water main in less than a week.  How does that happen?!?!  How hard is it for whoever is driving the giant ass bulldozer to NOT stick the shovel thing so far into the ground that it breaks pipes?  Look at me, sitting here right now, not breaking things.  If I had the skill and mental capacity of the dudes working on this project, I would have thrown my laptop into the wall and claimed I was trying to set it on the table.  Imagine if this was ok in other professions.  "I'm sorry, I was trying to demolish Texas Stadium, and instead I blew up all of Irving.  We need two clean air samples, do don't breathe for a few days."  So, I email the city, asking if they have any idea who is working on this project, because it seems beyond ridiculous that anyone who was remotely competent would have let this happen THREE times (I'm pretty sure I called them circus clowns.  Stinging insult I know).  I guess they're embarrassed by this situation, because I got a reply at 6pm on a Friday. (can we say damage control?)  The reply assured me that they have confidence in their personnel and that they were working to resolve all issues.  But, in the meantime, I've got my revolutionary war hat on again.  Sigh.

Grand Theft Auto?

For the record, I have to write this in an email because the one time in the past few weeks that I sit down to write a real entry, "blogger service is unavailable."  Well, that pretty much defeats the entire purpose of a website called "blogspot.com" doesn't it?  Fortunately, because you're reading this, they were able to get the site back up and running so here I am.

A few years ago, Scott's car key broke so he could no longer use the remote to unlock the doors.  Instead, he had to manually unlock the door, throw it open, and start the car quickly because once you open the door, the alarm would go off.  Then, once you started the car, everything was fine.  We made up a little game to coincide with everytime we had to get into the car.  We called it "Two Horns or Less", and the goal was to unlock, open, and start the car before the alarm horn could go off twice.  Scott got really good at it, and he had it down to 1 1/2- 1 1/4 horns sometimes.  (I'm sure you're wondering how I know what 1 1/4 horns is.  I don't know how I know, I just do.  Since this is my blog, I can say pretty much whatever I want).  Anyway, the game was fun, but eventually Scott got his key fixed.  I was really bummed, but it made sense because you get some pretty ridiculous stares when you look like you're breaking into a car everytime you get in.  Little did I know that MY turn to play Two Horns or Less was only a few years off.

Last week, before bar review started in earnest, I was running some errands, and I went to Target.  I do love Target.  I went to Target for some pens or something, which naturally meant I had to start at the very front of the store and make a full loop to look at anything and everything in the store.  By the time I got to the pens, I had a basket full of random shit.  This always happens to me (see Wal-Mart examples).  Anyway, I pay for my pens and other assorted unnecessary purchases, and I head back to my car.  At this point I'm juggling about 4 different plastic bags, and trying to rummage for my keys in my purse because I was too stupid to get them out before I decided to take home the store.  I finally get them out and hit "unlock".  I had no idea it didn't work, but soon find out when I try to open the door that the car was still locked.  I try my key a few more times and nothing.  Having known what happened to Scott, I was already aware that it was my turn to play Two Horns or Less.  The only problem was my massive collection of bags.  Instead of putting them down and taking care of it, I decide I can maneuver just as quickly while holding them.  Wrong.  I manually unlock the door and throw it open, to which the alarm starts blaring.  I then try to quickly get into the car, and fail miserably when one of my bags gets caught on the door handle.  So instead of the car already being started, the alarm is still going off and I'm in a wrestling match with a freaking plastic bag.  I yank really hard on the bag in an effort to set it free, but instead it rips and the contents spill out all over the pavement.  By this point it has literally been about 17 horns, and I've miserably failed at the game.  People are staring.  Some out of curiosity, others out of annoyance that I have yet to stop the alarm.  I momentarily abandon my pavement-splattered merchandise and start the car to get the gaping to stop.  Then, just like a scene out of Liberty City, I take off.

I immediately drive to the Jeep dealership to get it fixed, because I don't want to deal with it any longer than necessary.  When I arrive at the right place (the dealership had moved without my knowing, despite the apparent mailing of several notices, and billboards all around town that I never paid attention to), I have this conversation with the service employee:

Me: Something is wrong with the remote on my key.  The key itself works fine, but the remote no longer unlocks the doors.
Man: So your key isn't working?
Me: The key works.  The remote to unlock the doors doesn't.
Man:  Let me take it, I'll be right back.

I wait.  7-10 minutes later:

Man: Well, I don't see any problem with the key itself.  It still works.
Me:  Yes, I understand that.  It's the remote.
Man:  Oh, the remote!  You should have said that to begin with!
Me: .....ok.  How can I fix it?
Man:  Well, usually it's just the battery, or it needs to be reprogrammed.  That should fix it right up.  I'll be right back.

I wait.  19 minutes later (I counted):

Man:  Well, it was neither.  Turns out you need a whole new key.
Me:  Soo, it wasn't the easy to fix thing?
Man:  Nope, isn't that funny?
Me: Hilarious.

So, I need a new key.  They don't have the key in stock so I have to play Two Horns or Less all weekend (and Monday since it was Memorial Day).  Tuesday morning, I come in for my appointment and of course none of information about my appointment or what I need is in the system.

SAME Man: How can I help you?
Me:  I have an appointment to fix my key.
Man: Oh yes, hi! What was your name again?
Me: D-R-A...
Man: Ah yes, Nikki.  Hmm, your information is in here but nothing about your appointment.  Who did you speak with to make the appointment?
Me: ....Um, you?
(Long pause)
Man:  Oh, ha.  Yes.  Well let's just look this.  Hopefully we got the key ordered, amiright?
Me:  Yes, hopefully.  (At this point I give him the "Nikki stare."  People who know me well know what it is.  For those that don't, it's a combination of exasperation/total bitch).
Man:  Ah, here it is.  Looks like this was just not entered properly, but we're all set!

And turns out, we WERE all set.  Despite having NO recollection of me making an appointment with him, the service guy managed to order the right key and have it waiting for me.  And now I no longer have to play Two Horns or Less.  Nor do I have to look like I'm stealing my own car.  Hooray!


Pic 'o the Day (on a more serious note):

I know I'm a day late, but I don't think it's ever too late to remember what happened on June 6th, 1944.  I'm pretty sure I took this picture while in tears, and I will never forget my emotional experience visiting the cemetery and the beaches.  To all who fought (and still fight):  Thank You.

I like pictures.

It's Friday!  I've just numbed my brain with almost four hours of a commercial paper and negotiable instruments lecture (it's definitely as exciting as it sounds).  Sigh.  I guess it's good that I at least now know what commercial paper is.  So that's a step in the right direction. 

On another note, I got a brand new camera for graduation.  Here are some pics I've taken lately.  They're mostly of my dogs, because the dogs make excellent photo subjects, being all cute and playful and stuff.  These are also on my facebook, but since some of my loyal readers have released themselves from the vice grip of facebook addiction, I will post them here too.  Enjoy!

"I know I'm cute."

 In addition, she should probably play basketball.  She could dunk for sure.  

(Maybe not, but I'll pretend).

 She eventually caught the ball, and showed it who was boss.

The best-behaved dog.  Pretty much ever.

 So coy.

Aww.  Love.

So, I actually took this a while ago when I studied abroad for a summer, but

I edited it with my fun new editing stuff.

Hope everyone has a good weekend!  I know I said last entry that I'd be back soon with actual entries...and that's still true.  For the moment, I need to unscramble my brain.  So I'm off to do that.

Do it!

Ok, so this isn't a fun entry.  Sorry.  BUT, it will be fun for you to vote for my dog in the Cutest Doodle Contest.  So, do it.  5,4,3...vote for Cherry.  Do it.

Vote for Cherry!

I promise I'll be back soon.