Monday, November 22, 2010

Spice Sharks!

Got bored yesterday at work, thought I'd create the next big pop hit: The Spice Sharks!

Thursday, November 18, 2010

Holiday Rememberances

As I sit in my warm living room, the rain is falling outside, splattering against the muddy, banana slug-coated sidewalks and soaking everyone from the knees down who dares to so much as set foot outside. Dead, soaked skeletons of leaves glue themselves to the bottom of your shoes and sides of your car. Trimet drivers scowl and curse as you feebly flash your just-purchased ticket at them while trying to find a seat that is neither covered in something non-descript and sticky or next to that crazy homeless man who always tries to tell you about his latest best-selling book idea.

 
 Yes, ladies and gentlemen, the holidays are upon us! It's time once again to pull out the old crinkled wrapping paper you've been storing in the closet, smooth it flat, and wrap up your best still-packaged shit you got from other people last year that you never opened, and pawn it off as a thoughtfully planned gift. Typical though it may be, Christmas is my favorite time of year, and whenever it rolls around, I can't help but thoughtfully reminisce about seasons past... 

   December, 2006. My (now ex) husband is in Iraq and I'm just trying to make the best, warmest holiday possible out of an empty apartment and two cats. Sitting cross-legged on my couch, a big grin spreading ear-to-ear on my face as I take in the impressive pile of presents and Christmas wrapping I've acquired over the past two months. Jewelry, video games, movies, a pillow, various stocking stuffers-I gloat over my hoard of gifts and turn on the tv. Law & Order: SVU is in the middle of a marathon-this night is already off to a great start. I carefully take everything on the coffee table and set it gently on the floor next to me, select my first gift (a necklace for my sister-in-law), and select a delicate gold and white wrapping paper, spreading it out in front of me and smoothing down the edges, laying out my plan of attack. The fireplace in the corner catches my eye-I stop, practically able to see the light bulb pinging over my head. Of course! How am I supposed to have the perfect Christmas-y evening without a perfect Christmas-y fire to go with it?! My love of fire combined with my love of Christmas-what could go wrong? Briefly, my mind flashes to two years ago when my mom deigned me with the task of cleaning the hair out from the vacuum. Something about a matchstick bonfire on our laminate countertop comes to mind..Quickly, I shake the memory from my head-that was years ago! I'm all grown up now! I'm 19! And married! And I have cats and an apartment! Besides, it took her months to find that bubble under that mouse pad. I crawl towards the fireplace, eyeing the basket of firewood and newspaper in the corner, lighter in hand. I construct my fire with precision and planning worthy of a surgeon-or at least an Ocean's 11 sequel. Newspaper, cardboard, small logs, biiiiig log. After a few careful adjustments, I light the newspaper in various places, watching it burn and spread-excitement spreading just as steadily. Smoke began to plume out of the fireplace-the manager said it would, said the flue had to "warm up" before it started funneling the smoke out the chimney. As my fire died from lack of oxygen, I began to blow on it, adding more and more newspaper to the pile as the pile of ash below it became steadily larger.


So absorbed was I in this task, that I didn't notice until a good 20 minutes later the full extent of smoke that had accumulated in my apartment. My eyes stung as I squinted at the clump of wires dangling from the ceiling that had been my smoke detector months ago. Panicking, I threw open the sliding glass door, waving all the smoke out with a kitchen towel, with little to no effect. Think, Tiffany, think! What do you always need to get smoke out?? Another lightblub pinged. A cross breeze! I ran over to the front door, fanning it open and shut furiously so as to get as much oxygen through the apartment as possible. Unfortunately, my apartment had smoke detectors lined up and down the halls through my building, so as to protect us from, well, people like me. These smoke detectors had the added bonus of being about three times as loud, as well as the ability to set off all the other detectors around it, and eventually my entire building was deafening half the complex. At 9 o'clock at night. I ran back out to the balcony, trying feebly to tell everyone to go back in their houses with their pets and belongings, that there was no fire...just me. Pretty soon, I catch the gaze of my apartment manager, hobbling out in her pajamas and a robe, peering up at me-curiosity and concern evident in her face, even from three stories up. Sighing, I throw on a jacket and run downstairs, explaining everything to her and trying to avoid the stares of half the complex. She took it pretty well, I must say, and shut off the main building alarm, silence finally filling the night.

Until the fire trucks came.


Sirens blaring, lights blazing, two trucks turned into the complex almost as soon as she shut off the alarm, slowing to a stop directly in front of us as two extremely handsome, extremely mature firemen stepped out in front of me.
"I-I'm sorry...there's no fire..." I spluttered, my face turning very nearly the same shade as the fire truck itself. For some reason, my manager thought they should go upstairs anyways, just to make sure there wasn't actually some huge, roaring fire consuming my apartment at this very moment. I managed to get up before them, hurling my cats into my bedroom for safekeeping and trying to straighten my counters as best I could. While I did get a mild lecture on the importance of having a smoke detector installed in my apartment (apparently it's illegal or something to not have it in-who knew, right?), I must say I got off pretty easy, nowhere near the nightmare of fines and angry yelling I was expecting.
"So, we get one of those presents for all this, right?" the first one grinned.
"Oh! Uh, um, I mean, not unless you like necklaces, heh..."
"Nah, that's for this one over here," the first one laughed, jerking his head towards the second one, who grinned sheepishly and tried to hide his face behind his wavy, honey-colored hair. Soon after they left, followed by a string of stuttered apologies and thanks on my end.

So there's the story of when attempted to have a warm, Christmas-y evening, only to end up chasing 3 dozen people from their homes and wasting God knows how many tax dollars in what will forever be burned (hehe) into my memory as one of the most humiliating evenings of my life. Have a happy holidays and keep your fire extinguishers handy.