As I was cleaning and moving furniture tonight, the vug under my rug . . . yeah . . . um . . . it sort of, blew up. The parquet has swollen beyond it's limits and one of the joints has opened up. A slow, sort of musty smell is creeping out of the crevice, err, the hole. (Don't you just hate the word crevice? ewww, I said it again.)
I was prepared to post pictures of the mess but looks like I'll need some help with that. Now, if I only knew someone in web design who could advise me . . . hmph . . .
Tuesday, January 30, 2007
box . . . hehehe
My apartment is full of boxes . . . hehehe . . .
I hit gold while searching for apartments last week. I found a great little place, still in the Museum District, with original pine floors from the 1920's, a claw foot tub and the mecca of Fan district storage, a walk-in closet. The owner is in the process of completing a renovation of the building and he's tried very hard to keep as many of the original details in place. It was fantastic to talk to a property owner who wants to do things right.
God bless my lovely parents for offering to pay for movers. Four men and a 14 foot truck are scheduled to arrive at my door early Friday morning. I've never dealt with movers before -- I've actually been leary of them after the horror stories I've heard my friends tell of their experiences -- but Starr Movers came highly recommended and I am keeping good thoughts that they won't let me down. I plan to endear them with glazed donuts.
I hit gold while searching for apartments last week. I found a great little place, still in the Museum District, with original pine floors from the 1920's, a claw foot tub and the mecca of Fan district storage, a walk-in closet. The owner is in the process of completing a renovation of the building and he's tried very hard to keep as many of the original details in place. It was fantastic to talk to a property owner who wants to do things right.
God bless my lovely parents for offering to pay for movers. Four men and a 14 foot truck are scheduled to arrive at my door early Friday morning. I've never dealt with movers before -- I've actually been leary of them after the horror stories I've heard my friends tell of their experiences -- but Starr Movers came highly recommended and I am keeping good thoughts that they won't let me down. I plan to endear them with glazed donuts.
Wednesday, January 24, 2007
Concert Talkers
I know you know them. That couple next to you at the acoustic show talking about what they had for dinner. The 18 year old at her first show who hasn't put away her cell phone since the first riff. The dude who only came to the show because his girlfriend made him -- and complains the entire time about how much it sucks to be there. That's right -- THE TALKERS.
I blame two recent ho-hum concert experiences to ill-mannered, ticket-holding, TALKERS. First, it was the Ray LaMontagne show at the 9:30 Club in December -- an awesome Christmas gift from my friend Alyssa -- and I was really looking forward to the show, and the company. Anyone that listens to Ray knows, it's pretty mellow stuff. So mellow, it was a seated show. And quiet, mellow, music does not mix with loud machismo and mocking of the artist -- so rude. Grow up. I yearned to turn around and spit out a witty and bitchy reprimand dripping with sarcasm. Rather, I gave a quick little glance behind my shoulder -- yeah, that'll show them!
Tuesday night my friend Shaun and I had tickets to see Gomez at Starr Hill in Charlottesville. We couldn't have timed our arrival better and almost had beers in hand as the band took the stage. The music hall was packed -- with your typical Charlottesville crowd and swarms of the under 21 college crowd. After the first sips of our tasty Starr Hill beers we made our way into the crowd to claim our spot for the show. I immediately found myself annoyed by the clumps of people TALKING. And, I'm not complaining about quiet, hey this song is great talk, but yelling over the music to be heard by anyone within 10 feet talking. The din of the crowd actually blurred over a quiet, solo, acoustic performance of Sweet Virginia by Tom, my favorite bespectacled, shaggy haired, guitarist/vocalist/keyboardist. I have to say, I was super excited to hear them perform the title track off of their most recent album How We Operate. It was in constant rotation for me last summer after having seen them at Bonnaroo and then again in Richmond a few days later and it was great to hear it again, live -- and loud.
I realize I sound a little bitter . . . and, well . . . self-righteous, but, if simply out of respect for the artists, when you come to a show, listen to the band, sing along and scream your lungs out in appreciation, but when the time comes -- shut the fuck up!
I blame two recent ho-hum concert experiences to ill-mannered, ticket-holding, TALKERS. First, it was the Ray LaMontagne show at the 9:30 Club in December -- an awesome Christmas gift from my friend Alyssa -- and I was really looking forward to the show, and the company. Anyone that listens to Ray knows, it's pretty mellow stuff. So mellow, it was a seated show. And quiet, mellow, music does not mix with loud machismo and mocking of the artist -- so rude. Grow up. I yearned to turn around and spit out a witty and bitchy reprimand dripping with sarcasm. Rather, I gave a quick little glance behind my shoulder -- yeah, that'll show them!
Tuesday night my friend Shaun and I had tickets to see Gomez at Starr Hill in Charlottesville. We couldn't have timed our arrival better and almost had beers in hand as the band took the stage. The music hall was packed -- with your typical Charlottesville crowd and swarms of the under 21 college crowd. After the first sips of our tasty Starr Hill beers we made our way into the crowd to claim our spot for the show. I immediately found myself annoyed by the clumps of people TALKING. And, I'm not complaining about quiet, hey this song is great talk, but yelling over the music to be heard by anyone within 10 feet talking. The din of the crowd actually blurred over a quiet, solo, acoustic performance of Sweet Virginia by Tom, my favorite bespectacled, shaggy haired, guitarist/vocalist/keyboardist. I have to say, I was super excited to hear them perform the title track off of their most recent album How We Operate. It was in constant rotation for me last summer after having seen them at Bonnaroo and then again in Richmond a few days later and it was great to hear it again, live -- and loud.
I realize I sound a little bitter . . . and, well . . . self-righteous, but, if simply out of respect for the artists, when you come to a show, listen to the band, sing along and scream your lungs out in appreciation, but when the time comes -- shut the fuck up!
Saturday, January 20, 2007
Why I Love the Internet
The blog, I Am Fuel, You Are Friends http://fuelfriends.blogspot.com/ is required daily reading for me. I think it was a series of Ryan Adams and Ray LaMontagne downloads that got me hooked and the free, almost daily, downloads keep me coming back. It also helps that she's into the same music I am, and when she makes a recommendation there's a pretty good chance that I'll dig it. This past week's posts were no exception. There is a link to an MP3 ripped from a 7" vinyl recording of a remix of the Magic Trick track, from M. Ward's recent album "Post-War" (thanks to Cliff at http://inboundgowanus.blogspot.com/ and his year-end album reviews for turning me onto it). The remix really brings out the vocal collaboration with Jim James (of My Morning Jacket) and there are great bits of harmonica, which I love.
She's also posted tracks from Wilco's "More Like the Moon" EP that were released on the band's site for free download. It's always exciting to have access to tracks previously unreleased in the states while waiting for upcoming albums. Wilco's next release, "Sky-Blue Sky" is set for May 15. Jeff Tweedy fans rejoice!
And in local music venue news, Innsbrook After Hours has listed The Killers and Gov't Mule as "possible" acts for 2007. When a friend at work mentioned the news all I could do was snicker and roll my eyes. I learned, after two misprints on their site last summer that included Ray LaMontagne and the Secret Machines, the Innsbrook After Hours lineup is not to be trusted. For what it's worth http://innsbrookafterhours.com/content/index.php.
She's also posted tracks from Wilco's "More Like the Moon" EP that were released on the band's site for free download. It's always exciting to have access to tracks previously unreleased in the states while waiting for upcoming albums. Wilco's next release, "Sky-Blue Sky" is set for May 15. Jeff Tweedy fans rejoice!
And in local music venue news, Innsbrook After Hours has listed The Killers and Gov't Mule as "possible" acts for 2007. When a friend at work mentioned the news all I could do was snicker and roll my eyes. I learned, after two misprints on their site last summer that included Ray LaMontagne and the Secret Machines, the Innsbrook After Hours lineup is not to be trusted. For what it's worth http://innsbrookafterhours.com/content/index.php.
Victory!
Wednesday brought with it a phone call from the Maintenance Coordinator at River City. She was calling to "see what we could do" about my maintenance requests. I was stuck in court all day Wednesday (and Thursday, but we'll get back to that) and was not able to call her until the next morning. When I did, it was the same run around -- oh, we'll get someone out to check on things soon -- but I wasn't having it and asked to speak to her manager. Using my "I mean business" voice we reviewed the issues, including the unreturned phone calls and empty promises and then, I mentioned the mold. His tone immediately changed and, without prompt from me, offered to terminate my lease, without penalty. Victory was mine! I got what I wanted without threatening the involvement of lawyers, the health department or the Department of Housing & Urban Development -- all of which I'd researched. Now, the search is on for a new, mold free, apartment. In my uber-preparedness, I've already started packing.
As for two days spent in court -- I was selected to sit on a jury for a murder trial here in the city. It was two days, a total of 20.5 hours, of a lot of hurrying up to wait but the glimpse into the judicial system was very educational. For those interested, we the jury found the defendant not guilty. There just wasn't enough evidence -- the Commonwealth's case was full of holes. If you're ever a victim of violent crime in the city of Richmond hire yourself a good law firm and a P.I.. Relying on the Commonwealth and the City to solve your case is futile.
As for two days spent in court -- I was selected to sit on a jury for a murder trial here in the city. It was two days, a total of 20.5 hours, of a lot of hurrying up to wait but the glimpse into the judicial system was very educational. For those interested, we the jury found the defendant not guilty. There just wasn't enough evidence -- the Commonwealth's case was full of holes. If you're ever a victim of violent crime in the city of Richmond hire yourself a good law firm and a P.I.. Relying on the Commonwealth and the City to solve your case is futile.
Wednesday, January 17, 2007
It's all in the name
1. beaze: to be in a state of pure relaxation. To chill.
Sample sentence: F school, I'm just going to toke and beaze today.
There is no way I could make this stuff up!
http://www.urbandictionary.com/define.php?term=beaze
Sample sentence: F school, I'm just going to toke and beaze today.
There is no way I could make this stuff up!
http://www.urbandictionary.com/define.php?term=beaze
The Vug Under My Rug
Anyone who has been over to visit within the last month has been witness to the squalor invading my apartment.
Late last summer I learned that my old apartment -- the apartment I swore I would never leave and shed tears over the final time I closed the door -- was slated for demolition to make way for townhomes. This news sent me on a harried search for a new place. My needs were simple -- 1 bedroom, in the Fan/near West End/Museum District, within my single-girl budget. I checked out a long list of places, weighing my options like any other sensible apartment hunter and ended up at River City Court Apts. They're certainly not the fanciest of places but it was just what I needed and I knew I was creative and ambitious enough to make it home.
A day after signing the lease I discovered the roaches -- whatever, I know, it's the "city". Then the heat didn't work. Then the mouse moved in. Then my bedroom flooded. Then the floor in the living room started to swell and the floor in the bedroom soon followed. Oh, and did I mention the mold -- the mold that is growing through the wall in the corner of my bedroom and on my window panes like an effed up science project?!
I've submitted maintenance requests -- in writing/in person at the Manchester headquarters as is required -- have made phone calls and NOTHING. My sister, who happens to be a leasing agent for a large apartment complex in the area, chastised me for not standing up for myself and having these issues addressed. Normally I don't think twice about reporting poor customer service (re: the rageful Kroger email campaign of 2003) but I honestly thought landlords were exactly that, LORDS of their domain, and meager renters have no rights. I've sinced been schooled on the Landlord Tenant Act and the dangers of household mold (the month of sniffles should have been a big sign) and am prepared to raise some hell -- or, as my Mother suggested, call 12 On Your Side.
I blame this experience on karma. Right out of college I lived with a roommate at Honey Tree for six months. I was never on the lease and at the time felt I wasn't being treated fairly. In a big move to stand up for myself I gave her two weeks notice and moved out. In retrospect it probably wasn't the most responsible thing for me to have done but I was 22 and well, "I do what I want"! Now, six years later, I've got karma growing under my floors and up the walls and I have finally learned my lesson -- karma is a bitch.
Late last summer I learned that my old apartment -- the apartment I swore I would never leave and shed tears over the final time I closed the door -- was slated for demolition to make way for townhomes. This news sent me on a harried search for a new place. My needs were simple -- 1 bedroom, in the Fan/near West End/Museum District, within my single-girl budget. I checked out a long list of places, weighing my options like any other sensible apartment hunter and ended up at River City Court Apts. They're certainly not the fanciest of places but it was just what I needed and I knew I was creative and ambitious enough to make it home.
A day after signing the lease I discovered the roaches -- whatever, I know, it's the "city". Then the heat didn't work. Then the mouse moved in. Then my bedroom flooded. Then the floor in the living room started to swell and the floor in the bedroom soon followed. Oh, and did I mention the mold -- the mold that is growing through the wall in the corner of my bedroom and on my window panes like an effed up science project?!
I've submitted maintenance requests -- in writing/in person at the Manchester headquarters as is required -- have made phone calls and NOTHING. My sister, who happens to be a leasing agent for a large apartment complex in the area, chastised me for not standing up for myself and having these issues addressed. Normally I don't think twice about reporting poor customer service (re: the rageful Kroger email campaign of 2003) but I honestly thought landlords were exactly that, LORDS of their domain, and meager renters have no rights. I've sinced been schooled on the Landlord Tenant Act and the dangers of household mold (the month of sniffles should have been a big sign) and am prepared to raise some hell -- or, as my Mother suggested, call 12 On Your Side.
I blame this experience on karma. Right out of college I lived with a roommate at Honey Tree for six months. I was never on the lease and at the time felt I wasn't being treated fairly. In a big move to stand up for myself I gave her two weeks notice and moved out. In retrospect it probably wasn't the most responsible thing for me to have done but I was 22 and well, "I do what I want"! Now, six years later, I've got karma growing under my floors and up the walls and I have finally learned my lesson -- karma is a bitch.
Tuesday, January 16, 2007
"The time has come," the Walrus said, "to talk of many things."
Great, just what the internet needs, another blogger -- gosh!
I read a select number of blogs each day and lately there've been some real slackers in the bunch who've, well, started to let me down. I go to their site hoping for a rousing read, a free MP3 download, album review, maybe even a funny drunken subway story and there are no updates! NOTHING. Sometimes for weeks at a time blogs are neglected, and I pout and harrass them for something, anything, to feed my blog addiction. Finally, I decided, I have no right to judge slacker bloggers until I give it a go myself.
As I'm infamous for blurting out whatever it is that comes to mind -- I give you "No Filter" -- people, brace yourselves!
I read a select number of blogs each day and lately there've been some real slackers in the bunch who've, well, started to let me down. I go to their site hoping for a rousing read, a free MP3 download, album review, maybe even a funny drunken subway story and there are no updates! NOTHING. Sometimes for weeks at a time blogs are neglected, and I pout and harrass them for something, anything, to feed my blog addiction. Finally, I decided, I have no right to judge slacker bloggers until I give it a go myself.
As I'm infamous for blurting out whatever it is that comes to mind -- I give you "No Filter" -- people, brace yourselves!
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