SHE SAID: Moving

February 10, 2010

Moving is miserable.  I don’t care if you have ten things or ten million things.  It still sucks to have to box up your stuff and transport it.  Even if you’re going to a really cool place, and you’re so excited about what lies ahead in this new place … it still sucks to have to load up all your gear and get it to the new place.

The big stuff, the heavy stuff, the stuff you ask your friends to come over and help you load into the truck, car, van, isn’t really what I’m talking about, either.  I’m talking about once all that stuff is cleared away and you’re left with the clutter.  The stuff you haven’t thrown away because you think someone might want it since it’s nice and just because you don’t use it doesn’t mean someone else won’t.  Or the stuff that you had lining your window sills that doesn’t really pack up all that easily and what exactly would you write on the top of that box since there isn’t a classification for clutter.  Stuff-I-don’t-need-but-am-having-a-hard-time-ditching.

The cleansing is good.  Getting rid or so much stuff you’ve accumulated whether you’ve lived somewhere for 5 months or 50 years.  But it’s kind of good in the way that going to the dentist’s office is good.  No one looks forward to it with glee, and when you’re there you’re clutching the seat in misery waiting for it to be over … but once you walk out, you’re pretty psyched.  I mean, clean teeth is a pretty awesome feeling.  But I digress …

I know I will be glad to have gone through my stuff and gotten rid of stuff I shouldn’t have been holding on to.  I know that I will look back once I spend a few nights in my new place thinking about how great that cleanse was.  How nice it feels not to have that cactus that was dying, but I wasn’t getting rid of, to look at and feel guilty about anymore.  I’ll feel organized and on top of it and fresh.

But in the meantime, while I’m mid-move and my house looks like a festering group of angry moles when through it strictly in spite, I’m not enjoying it.  And I’m looking forward to being done with it and reflecting about how it wasn’t all that bad, but really more therapeutic.  Really.

SHE SAID: Share the Road

August 4, 2009

I have it easy.  Road biking in Vermont is a pretty friendly experience.  Drivers are incredibly generous for the most part and used to groups of multi-colored, spandex wearing bikers on the shoulders of the road.  I have heard that biking in the South is not as enjoyable.  One friend recounted getting beer cans thrown at her from passing trucks (I don’t know if said truck had a confederate flag sticker, but it would complete the picture), horn honking and getting the finger on at least an hourly basis.  Come to think of it, I have never biked with her, so I can’t speak to her modus operandi on a bike, but I’m going to assume that she wasn’t riding double on a busy road or riding in the middle of the road, and therefore, was unnecessarily harassed.

Hnidy ... biking

However, I have been harassed on a bike while minding my own business, riding close to the edge all by self, and let me tell you, it’s scary as all hell.

Drivers who buzz us.  Yes.  You are bigger.  Your truck (isn’t it usually a truck!?) could flatten me in no time and I am aware of that without a reminder.  Also, you are faster.  Impressive.  Thank you for the demonstration.  Go away now.

You could also send me spiraling over the top of your vehicle, over the front of my handlebars, over the guard rail and into that rapid river flowing a few hundred feet below, into that ditch, wrapped around that mailbox post, that tree, that telephone pole … trust me, I have considered, envisioned and have a substantial amount of  both fear and respect for all the possible situations.

Your trailer is impressive, and no, I was not expecting it or the 4×4’s it was carrying.  Thank you for giving me such an up close look at them, I think one is leaking oil.  I generally don’t like having to ride my bike that was designed for pavement on the gravel threshold, but when you give me no option, it’s a thrill to hope I a) stay on my bike and in case of a fall b) don’t fall into the road.  Also, UPS truck driver, did you even see me?  I think your cab brushed the fingers on my handlebars.  I’m all for experiencing firsts … but that was a little too freaky for me.

I don’t understand the road rage towards bikers.  Even if someone is riding double on a busy road, there are a million better ways to handle the situation before buzzing someone on a bike frame that weighs under 20 pounds who is riding with the traffic.  Honk, give the finger, yell “ass-hoooooooooole” out the window, curse under your breath, write a blog post about how annoying road riders are, but don’t threaten us with the mighty force of your 4,000 plus pound vehicle.  It’s an unfair fight, and I didn’t bring my slingshot (my tire repair kit weighs in at a few grams and I was upset about that additional weight so the stone and slingshot got axed).

bikeOr, try getting on a bike yourself and experiencing the sublime beauty of a long ride’s scenery, the exhilaration of a few hours in the saddle, the idiocy of some asshole with a Hemi who is in a hurry and takes it out on you.

In summery, you do not have permission to buzz the tower.  That’s a negative, ghost rider, the pattern is full.

Poll Results

June 22, 2009

The results are in.  It was close, understandable since we had a whopping 16 people voting, but the winner is studying/writing/working in wifi cafés by one vote. Someone voted “other” but then never wrote in another answer. Jeremy and I had high hopes for the “other” voters and had plans to keep all those suggestions in a list for future dry spells. Thankfully we don’t see one of those dry spells in the near future.

We will have a new post up shortly. Stay on the edge of your seats. All 16 of you.


June 18, 2009

We’ve received a complaint from our friend who is a wedding planner, that our last post was too boring.  In fact, he went so far as to threaten he wouldn’t read anymore were we not to throw this poll up on the blog.

So, in the interest of interesting our lone reader, we’re taking requests.

No Freebird.

-Jeremy and Nifer

offer expires 6/16/09

SHE SAID: Marry/Fuck/Toss Round 3

May 15, 2009

My theme for this week – 80’s sitcom dads.  First up, Steven Keaton from Family Ties, next we’ve got Dr. Jason Seaver from Growing Pains, and finally we’ve got an adoptive father, Henry Warnamont of Punky Brewster fame.  Remember, Nifer, you are selecting from the characters…and I know Henry is old, but he’d make a great father figure!


Thanks for the father figures, Jeremy.  My dad died.  Super smooth, jackass.

This is easy.  Henry is getting tossed only because I have no interest in necrophilia, and he doesn’t look like he would even make it to the edge of the cliff before kicking it, so it’s not like that would be a struggle to get him off of it.  Oddly enough, that is the first time I have tried imagining getting someone off the cliff.

Next I’m going to marry Steven because he’s a decent, fun, liberal guy and I feel like we could have some halfway decent conversations throughout our golden years together.  Not sure if I want to know what’s under the beard though.

I’m going to fuck Jason, but only if we can refer to him only as “the doctor” from now on and the lights are off.

HE SAID: Marry/Fuck/Toss Round 3

May 15, 2009

Another round of Marry/Fuck/Toss to brighten up a Friday morning.

Jeremy’s three picks to marry, fuck, or toss off a cliff are: Salma Heyek, Halle Berry and Angelina Jolie.  And no, you can’t have sex with one before tossing her, Jeremy.  If you are looking for rules and round 1, click here.  For round 2, click here.marry-fuck-toss-selmahalleangelina

Well, I’ll tell you what I’d like to do…after David Ortiz left 12 men on base by himself in an extra innings loss, the Celtics blew a late lead forcing themselves into another Game 7, and the Bruins lost a game 7 in sudden death overtime (on a goal scored by someone who probably should’ve been suspended no less), I’d like to toss myself off a cliff, getting hit in the balls by every jutting rock and tree branch on the way down, because that would feel better than the way I feel right now.

But that is not an option, so instead I will force myself to choose amongst the three you have selected for me.  This is actually the easiest one you have presented me thus far, I’ll save the suspense: Jolie is getting cliffed, Berry is getting fucked, and I’ll marry Hayek.

The reasoning is quite simple – Salma Hayek was the first actress I saw explicitly nude on the big screen, in the movie “Desperado,” and I feel like I owe her for that.  I’d cook her breakfast in bed, get her anything she wants, so long as her breasts were uncovered for at least 75% of our marriage. 

I’d like the chance to spend an evening with Halle Berry, while having sex, but mostly I really want to discuss becoming her manager.  Whoever she currently has managed to turn an Oscar winning performance into Gothika and Catwoman, I figure I can pitch her the idea of managing her career, make a shit ton of money and get off at the same time!

Lastly, there is Jolie.  While I find her seductive and she would probably rock my world, she also probably rocked her brother’s world, and that’s just a bit too creepy for me.  And let’s not forget what she did to Jennifer Aniston.  I can picture it now, tossing Angelina off the cliff screaming “You ruined Rachel’s life you fucking bitch!”