BEST You Can Take A Girl out of DC EVER

Greetings from Buffalo, NY. Last night I found myself at a party full of shrill middle school teachers. Sheesh and I did what we do best in desperate situations like this... we found the bar.

Anyway, one of the guests had an uncanny resemblance to a certain DC resident. At first, it was highly comical. Then, as the night wore on (and I kept drinking), it got a bit spooky.

Here's a stalkerazzi photo we snapped.



Creepy, huh?

Poor guy.

BEST Wasted Air EVER

(AKA Infomercial post #1-- while unpacking, we came across several As-Seen-On-TV items, still in the original boxes. Needless to say, they lend themselves to future posts.)

When moving to the District, you have to make sacrifices. Our sacrifices included going from two bathrooms to one, from a dishwasher to pruny hands, from a secured garage to street parking, from a life expectancy of 80 to approximately 30, and from two large walk-in closets to considerably smaller storage space.

Bathrooms. The decrease in number of bathrooms is an easy fix. We shall share one, just like we did three apartments ago. Not to mention, we both have sisters we've shared bathrooms with during our respective childhoods. And sharing with one other person is far easier than 100 sorostitute sisters like the old college days. Besides, it helps us cut down on our excess toiletries.

Dishwasher. The dishwasher is also an easy fix. We start handwashing. For those of us that cook once a month, this should not be too difficult.

Parking. The street parking is a little more difficult, mostly because it opens the floodgates to damage from other cars or vandals (also worthy of mention: my car insurance annual payment just doubled for moving from garaged parking in the Commonwealth to the street parking in the District!). But, I suppose it is a small price to pay to be within a couple blocks of the Capitol building.

Life Expectancy. The estimated life expectancy may be a tough fix. I guess we will just enforce the Buddy System, while wearing bullet-proof vests and sporting neutral gang colors. Admittedly, the statistic may have been slightly fabricated, but if I look, I am certain I could dig up something to substantiate it.

Storage Space. With all that said, this brings us to the decrease in closet space. To assume it would be an easy fix, you would be mistaken. The first solution, and most obvious plan, was to get rid of unnecessary clothing items. We filled bags upon bags of clothing and shoes (probably totalling eight bags each), and walked them over to the Whole Foods clothing drive. Unfortunately, that didn't quite cut it. We just had too many clothes and too little space in the DC closets.

What to do, what to do. We brainstormed how we could save space in our closets….and, as if we were conducting our very own infomercial, it struck us! The answer to our prayers... Space Saver Bags! It's so obvious! It is what every household needs! It can compact an entire bin of clothing into a small, concise, stackable space.

So, Kimmmm acted fast and made a couple trips to the nearby Container Store or the like to pick up As-Seen-on-TV Space Saver Bags. And let me tell you, they did not disappoint. Not only are they functional, but they provided endless entertainment while we watched our bins and bins of clothing disappear into a flattened, airless bag. If you do not believe me, feast your eyes on the little play-by-play we photographed below:
















BEFORE: Check out all that wasted air!
















Simply by fastening the vacuum attachment to the Space Bag, we were off…
















Kimmmm's making progress, but it looks like she may need to call in for assistance. Please keep the inappropriate c omments to a minimum.
















And this is where roommates come in handy.
















Looks like I'll need some backup. Kimmmm's joining me on the bag.
















AFTER: No more wasted air.





















Ta dah! It's so slim and compact!


(I will be waiting for the Space Saver Bag endorsement in the mail.)

Now having known the powerful effects of this little Miracle Worker, the question becomes, why wouldn't you use Space Saver Bags? To think of all the air we've wasted by packing them in bins and drawers for all these years....

BEST Ikea Trip EVER

I had already danced with the Swedish Devil once in 2006 and lived to tell the tale… so this weekend, I decided try my luck for a second time and tangoed my way back into the hell that is Ikea. For those of you who aren't in major metropolitan areas with Ikea's you are probably thinking…okay, Kimmmm is being a little bit melodramatic…. Ikea seems like it is a place with a variety of trendy and inexpensive furniture.

This of course is true I am being a bit melodramatic and Ikea is a place with trendy and inexpensive furniture. It is also a place that will cause you to swear and bleed. My trip to Ikea this weekend wasn't actually that bad, but for the sake of having an entertaining blog, I am going to share a few observations from the trip to Ikea that Ph, Emmmm, Sheesh, and I took a few weeks ago and some general observations.

The Store. We arrived at Ikea on Saturday morning. Although the stores are huge and located near highways, so that everyone can see the eyesore that is the blue and yellow building for miles away, we managed to miss the exit and had to turn around. The car was parked approximately 3 miles from the actual entrance. After making it to the store, the store itself is a jumbling confusing maze that was put together by Swede's who were obviously under the influence of some illegal narcotics. Time and space cease to exist, as we wormed our way around couches, kitchens, through bedrooms, and of course, there is the children's section (shudder). Philli picked up a hippo, but not in the childrens section. We held hands and ran through that.

The Products. Now, I am all for celebrating all cultures equally, but I would think that the Swedes would have thought to do some basic translation of product names before entering the US market. I don't want to be culturally insensitive here or anything, but from a practical standpoint, I'm pretty sure that the average American's command of Swedish is not such that they are able to distinguish the difference between a Gorm, Flangby, and Rimfrost.

The Warehouse. (This is where the swearing begins) After making our way through the store and looking at approximately one billion different housewares, we were mercifully released into a warehouse, where you we to go and pick up your own products to bring them to the register. The College Park Ikea holds a special place in my heart for this section of the trip, because the tags that are on the products with the warehouse locations, don't exactly match the "locations" of these products in the warehouse. Oh, those Swedes are some Merry Pranksters*. Of course, since you don't know the actual product names, it's nearly impossible to locate that bookshelf or bed that you wanted. By this time, you've been traipsing around the store for 3 hours with the rest of humanity so you are exhausted anyways. Finally, you find your product and realize that although your new bookshelf is in a flat deceptively light looking box, it actually weighs about 200 pounds. I picked up a stuffed giraffe.

*bonus points if you get the literary reference.

The Registers. This is the main reason Ikea is hell. I don't want to talk about it. It wasn't bad when we went, but I've been in Ikea before when it's been ugly and it's Not a Good Thing.

The Parking Lot. (This is where the swearing really picks up) This is where the real fun that is Ikea starts. I had my newly purchased Flibba, Lyckeby, and Glimmas, and was ready to head home, when I came to the sad realization that my 99 Chevy Caviler was probably not designed haul a 200 pound box of bookcase anywhere, even back in November of 1999 when it still had pickup.

Home. (This is where you swear some more) Finally, after a confusing, exhausting, and annoying detour, we arrived at our new apartment and began to unload the car. At this point, the trip had been going on for approximately five hours, and we were exhausted and starving and it didn't help that no one could remember what the Probus was, why it had been purchased at all, and why the box would be so damn heavy.

Assembly. (This is where you swear AND bleed) Beyond just saving the expenses associated with any semblance customer service, you get to experience the joy of furniture assembly using only a small thumb wrench that was not designed for the average adults sized hand. The instruction sheets feature smiling androgynous Swedes assembling furniture in the way that you too would assemble furniture if you were a smiling androgynous Swede. The instruction sheets also contain helpful graphical warnings such as a picture of a frowning Swede hitting his head with a hammer with a big X through it. (You don't even have to know what a Atlant is to get that you are supposed to hit your head with a hammer from this one). Anyway, every piece of Ikea furniture I've ever purchased has drawn blood, either my own, or the blood of the unwitting friends who volunteered to help me assemble it. Sometimes, it does make me want to hit my head with a hammer, but after a careful read of the instruction sheet, I know that this is not the correct thing to do. (You are supposed to use only a thumb wrench).

I'm pretty sure the instruction sheet above is saying not to drop your furniture because it will break.

After passing through the purgatory that is the store and warehouse, and finally descending into the depths of bloody furniture assembly hell, I have found myself the proud owner of a really cool Markor. I know how this whole thing will go…one thing will lead to another, a few years pass, a new apartment will inevitably come, and I'll foolishly decide that I need to pick up some new odds and ends and repeat the whole cycle again.

BEST Failed Pirate Joke EVER

(Friday night at Capitol Lounge)

Kim: Quick! I need a pirate joke.

Emily: What do people in Northern Virginia have in their apartments?

Guy: I don't know. What?

Emily: C-aaaaaaaaaarrrrrrrrrrrrrrr-pet

Kim: You didn't say pirate.

BEST Got Milk EVER

And we're back…..

That's right… Best Winter Evah has relocated to the banging neighborhood of Capitol Hill for the near future. Anyway, Emmmm and myself have had a lot of shizzle fizzlin' over the past few weeks… we packed the hastily acquired boxes, I took the CISA exam, there was a trip to Eastern Market, we moved, the movers hijacked a truck full of our possessions for a very confusing/harrowing hour, there was a company holiday party, work got a little crazy, we took a trip to Ikea, Sheesh came to visit, and I realized that I don't really like the taste of 2% milk anymore.

The other night, while packing, or unpacking, or doing something move related, I decided that I would have a nice big glass of milk. I've been a milk drinker since my childhood - my standard elementary school lunch for several years was a baloney sandwich with yellow mustard on white bread, a bag of chips, a green apple, and a thermos full of milk, which was usually lukewarm by the time lunch rolled around. Dinner usually featured a glass of cold milk as well. My culinary tastes have evolved since then (thank goodness), but I've remained an avid milk drinker. Times were kinder and gentler back then and no one was really concerned about trans, saturated, carbs, no carbs, etc, and we were a 2% family.

Back to the other night…I pour myself a big glass of milk and I'm packing up boxes. I take a sip and after swallowing it, I realize that the entire inside of my mouth is coated with a thin film. Gross! It was entirely possible that the milk had spoiled, as Emmmm and I hadn't eaten a home cooked meal in weeks.

I sniffed it. It didn't smell spoiled.

I took another sip.

Same film, no spoiled taste.

I decided to investigate further by looking at the expiration date, and it turns out that the milk hadn't even reached the sell by date. Then, I looked at the carton and noticed that it was 2%.

Suddenly it all came together… my mind raced through a series of houses and roommate situations… where various roommates would only drink skim, sorority sisters who didn't eat let alone drink anything that might have fat in it, parents who had converted to skim to be more "heart healthy", society at larges ungodly fear of anything that might even have fat in it, and I suddenly realized I couldn't even remember the last time that I had a glass of milk that wasn't skim.

My best guess is that it was circa 2002 when I lived with the Grindstaff's and accidentally drank a glass of whole milk (They were a Vitamin D family… needless to say, I had my own carton in the fridge that summer).

So yes, I am formally bidding adieu to the last bit of my childhood as the 2% goes the way of baloney sandwiches on white bread and potato chips.

Even with the new apartment and all of the very adult things that we do, It's hard to grow up sometimes.

BEST Great Box Hunt EVER

So, Emmmm and I are moving yet again… for those of you keeping tally, this will be residence number 4 in the DC metro area. I don't want to talk about the various circumstances that have led to this. They aren't pleasant.

Anyway, after our last move (11 months ago), I threw out the various cardboard boxes I had acquired because they were crumbling and gave my darling sister all of my rubbermade totes for her move. I was banking on the fact that I would live in my current apartment for more than one year, which in retrospect, was an extremely ignorant assumption to make.

Long story short: We needed boxes.

Emmmm purchased some boxes on E-bay and we both thought everything was peachy keen, but it turns out that the seller was beyond shady and after a few screaming matches with various individuals at a UPS warehouse located Illinois, she came to the realization that the boxes were not coming.

We were out $25. We needed boxes.

This prompted what I am going to term "The Great Box Hunt of 2006". Here is the recap of the all consuming box hunt:

Wednesday:
8:05 am - Got in elevator at our apartment building. There was a girl with two boxes. I asked "are you throwing those away?" It turns out she was, and she offered them to me instead. She gave me a lead on the possibility of more boxes on the dock behind our apartment.

9:00 am - Carpooled into work. Carpool buddy offered 8 UPS boxes from her recent move. She suggested I contact various other coworkers who have also recently moved.

10:02 am - Emmm emails me a Craigs list posting about banana boxes in Falls Church. Posting said boxes were on front porch for first person to come get them.

12:00 pm - Had lunch with a coworker. After explaining my dilemma, he suggested that I inquire with the print shop at work about empty boxes.

1:15 pm - Print shop gave me one box and promised to stash any extras away for me. Guy at the print shop told me that empty boxes are usually placed by 9th floor freight elevator.

1:18 pm - Acquired three boxes from closet by 9th floor freight elevator.

7:00 pm - Drove to Falls Church and picked up six banana boxes from front porch of a house. As an added bonus, my car smells vaguely like bananas now.

8:30 pm - Went to dock behind our apartment building and acquired three more boxes.

Day 1 Actual Box Count: 15
Promised boxes: 8

Thursday:
9:00 am - Sent email to various coworkers who have recently moved asking for boxes. Was promised five rubbermade totes.

11:00 am - Rummaged around office (different office than on Wednesday) and found two boxes. Coworker sent me an instant message saying that two boxes were in her office that I could have.

12:00 pm - After recounting my Falls Church experience and the resulting banana smell in my car, another worker promised some additional rubbermade totes.

11:15 pm - After a work event, went and picked up promised five rubbermade totes.

Day 2 Actual Box Count: 9

So that brings us to today. Right now, Emmmm and I are working on a few leads from Craigs List (we may be appearing in Rockville, Adams Morgan, and Alexandria this weekend to pick up them up from various locations). I'm going to swing by and pick up the 8 UPS boxes promised on Wednesday and the coworker who promised additional rubbermade totes yesterday is going to do a handoff with Emmmm this afternoon. Apparently, he emptied out totes that had things stored in them for us to borrow… "I've got boxes for you and a pile of Christmas decorations sitting on my floor"

Ah yes, the Great Box Hunt of 2006*. May it never happen again….

*Note: If you are moving, please contact me in two weeks. I will have boxes for you.