Do not read if you don't want to know all of the petty details of my life...Besides, it's pretty boring.

I am so frustrated with the whole repair-man system here at the new place.
Three weeks ago, I took a bath for the first time here. I come down at three in the morning after finishing studying, and find a puddle of water on the first floor under the vent, and waterstains on the ceiling. It took me a while to realize that it was because of the bath, and so when I did, I went and told the office, and made an appointment for my next day off for them to come and fix the leak.
After much internet searching, I suspected already that it was a leak in the overflow pipe (the silver round thing on the wall of the bath right underneath the faucet) which is meant to keep the water in the bathtub at a certain level if the water is accidentally left on.
So on my next day off, I wake up early and first, the plumber comes to tell me that there's no need to fill the bathtub so high in order to take a bath. He points to a level two inches below the overflow pipe that should be acceptable, in an attempt to make it so that he doesn't have to fix anything, while I relegate myself to taking baths in three inches of water. I decline. So, two workers reluctantly come to remove my linen cabinet from the wall in order to figure out where the leak is. I hate standing over people that come to work on the house, because I know it would make me uncomfortable, so I just stayed downstairs (the bathroom is upstairs) and listened to the banging. That was probably my first mistake. In any case, the plumber looks at the pipe, and sees that it is too long, and therefore a proper seal is not made between the overflow tube and the edge of the bathtub. He fixes it within ten minutes, and call the workers back to put the linen closet back into the wall. When they leave, I realize they knocked a hole in the corner wall while trying to either remove or replace the cabinet. I go back to the office. They call more guys over to fix it, and to regrout the tub because the original grout is cracking due to them using incorrect grout in the first place.
The same guys show up as before, and I point out the corner hole and the grout problem. The worker decides to kill two birds with one stone and grouts up the corner hole (with bathtub grout, no less!) with his finger after grouting the tub. You cannot imagine the horror and disgust I felt when I saw him do that. I felt like vomiting. In fact, if I had, I might as well have just stuffed the vomit into the hole to fix it, it would have been just as appropriate.
In any case, after that, I took a sigh of relief (after pulling out a few hairs over the technique) because I thought I was finally done with condo repairs.
But then that night, when me and Aaron start making dinner, we realize, "Hey, there is now absolutely no water pressure in the kitchen faucet."
The next day, back to the office I go, where some random lady writes my complaint down on a legal pad while talking on her cell phone. This is a Thursday. I decide to give her the benefit of the doubt and leave her alone until the next day, when I went in to make sure something was being done. She tells me, "I'm sorry, this cannot be fixed until next week."
Catastrophe, because I had a sink full of dishes I could not wash, and my parents were due to arrive the next day to stay the weekend.
In any case, I make an appointment for my one free afternoon, today.

I ended up washing the dishes in the bathtub.

And today, I talk to the lady again when I get home from class, and she tells me that she talked to the constructors, who said that they won't fix my faucet bc I'm a homeowner and therefore responsible for my own repairs.
I tell her that the kitchen faucet problem only occurred after the bathtub problem, and therefore should not be my problem.
She says she will call the constructors and see what she can do.
I assume that "what she can do" is probably pretty close to nothing, so I go over to the office again after an hour. I run into Steve, the guy who sold the place to us in the first place. He makes ONE call, and has a plumber over within ten minutes.
Now, I'm waiting for another plumber to show up and try to check under the house or put in a new faucet.

Ok well that was long and drawn out, and I'm sure no one is reading at this point (if you still are, send me your address and I will mail you a Reese's peanut butter cup for getting this far.), but still, I'll summarize my complaints:
1. I'm sick of spending my free days stressing about this fucking condo.
2. I'm sick of the office people, namely, the woman who is apparently the new HOA person, not getting things done.

Halloween!!!
After 2 hours at Wal-mart and half an hour of crafting, me and Aaron have designed quite passable costumes as Nacho Libre and Sister Encarnacion.
I call it Blitzkreig-Halloweening.
At first, I thought this would be the second halloween in a row that I wouldn't have time to prepare for...but alas, it is not so.

I decided I just could not go another year without celebrating my favorite holiday.

Delightful!

"You're awkwardly shaped."
-Aaron (to me)

I was looking up Cormac McCarthy's new book, The Road, which is next on my list of books to read because it's about "a father and son on the road in a post-apocalyptic road," which is the best sentence-summary of a book I've almost ever read, and also because I've been wanting to read a Cormac McCarthy book ever since high school.

And I found this article about him, which makes me want to read something by him even more:

"Cormac McCarthy’s fans — they gather in the forums of “the official Web site of the Cormac McCarthy society” — are smarter, and definitely more laid-back, than those of just about any other living writer. They have names like Clem, and tend to refer to themselves as “fellers.” Watching them hash out their feelings about McCarthy’s new novel, “The Road” — see No. 4 on the fiction list — is like listening to the members of Waylon Jennings’s old band talking on a back porch somewhere, smoking cigarettes and plunking squirrels with varmint rifles.

One burning issue in the forums right now is McCarthy’s strategic deployment of the number 117. In his new novel, 1:17 a.m. is when clocks stop and the world ends. In his last one, “No Country for Old Men,” there was a grisly motel murder in Room 117. And so on. Is McCarthy referencing the Book of Revelations? Genesis? Who knows? One writer on the forum drawls: “That’s the Bible: you can make it support an argument any which way.”

I want to sit on a back porch smoking cigarettes and plunking squirrels with a varmint rifle too! Ok I don't want to do the squirrel thing bc I love squirrels but all the rest of it, YES!

The following exchange occurred during a conversation concerning healthier eating habits.

Aaron: What exactly is brown rice?
Jennifer: Like, brown, untasty rice.
Aaron: What, like the rice from Panda Express? That was brown.
Jennifer: No! That was fried rice.

Ok, this doesn't translate well.

Done with Biochem for the rest of my life, thankfully.
Can't say I did super well but I don't have to retake it, I'm happy.
Genetics started today, and it seems much more bearable (is that how bearable is spelled?? it looks wierd.)

The kitten has stayed around (heheh, I've finally found my kitten Lolita)...except it's a him, and we have named him Mystery, sort of inspired by the skateboard company, but mostly because it's a cool name. He showed up just in time for Halloween too, and I should be a boring witch for Halloween just to use him as part of my costume.
Aaron caught another cat sneaking food from Mystery's bowl, which resulted in the current quote of the day:

"He thought i was throwing rocks at him, but it was just kibble."

This was Aaron trying to get the other kitten to stay around.

Also, last night our across-the-street-neighbor sicc'ed his dog on some guys trying to steal his patio furniture. I'm glad nothing is in my backyard except new grass seedlings and my red converse.

I have this habit of making myself miserable by desperately wanting to be someone else. It goes in phases.
It gets really intense, and I should really grow out of it.

I got accepted to present my thesis at a convention in April!
Better yet, it's in Boston.

Wow.

Today I started a journal (paper, not web), ate at Cici's pizza, explained to Aaron the difference between people who stay fully dressed when home alone and people who walk around in their underwear, and met a tortoiseshell kitten on a walk down to the bai-jou who followed us home and so I fed him dog food and water. He was super friendly, and I haven't sneezed yet!

Elissa: I have a question. Is there any deadly (or not-so-deadly) disease that I could catch from petting a possibly feral kitten and then scratching a mosquito bite that ended up bleeding? I know, it's gross, but I'm worried about it.
Save me from paranoia or disease, one or the other.

I am sad about Rachel going to Boston on Friday, but I am happy that she is doing something special and exciting.

I am going to try and be happy in Dallas, doing what I'm doing, and being who I am. But I'm going to keep thinking about being an 18-wheeler truck driver, getting a tattoo, and/or moving to L.A. sometime in the next 5 years. I know someone who promised herself only to stay in Dallas for three years, and now it's been three years and she owns a house here. Suckage.

I want to read a book, have a free weekend, and for winter to hurry up and start.

I will never love anyone who describes any biochemical reaction as either "elegant" or "exquisite."
I might like you, but I will always think that you're a nerd.

The state fair is here!! And the Renaissance Faire is in Houston.
Oh the choices.

Me and Aaron have been working on growing some grass in the backyard. It's been fun--seeding and watering and fertilizing at 2 in the morning, which is always when we seem to get around to it.

I feel like my grammar is disintegrating. The other day, someone spoke derogatorily about med students' writing skills and I wanted to say "Speak for yourself!" and kick him in the shins.
In truth, though, it's worrying me.

I'm applying to present my Stephen King thesis at some convention in April, and trying not to worry too much about whether the thesis is worthy or not.

I've also been riding my bike to school.

Two movies I've seen lately:
Down in the Valley-->has Ed Norton in it, who is quite charming at first. (I've always had a thing for cowboys...) The movie has good atmosphere, and made me miss L.A.

The Proposition--> Bizarre movie, about when Australia was still just a dumping ground for convicts. I think what made it bizarre was how hard the director tried to make it mysterious and mystical. when really it only had to be a western type movie.