car-ma | ThisihT

Sometimes I think I’m charged with negative ions.

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In what seems like a string of unimaginable coincidences, in the past several weeks I have spent the better part of a month’s salary on not-so-extravagant electronic items, only to have them die at their pulse-driven cores: zero by one by one.

1) Failed 2009 MacBook Pro RAM upgrade: $150 +/- 12 hours of my time

2) Failed 2003 Ford Focus: $850 +/- untold pain and suffering

3) Failed 2011 MacBook Pro (battery? logic board? They’re a little fuzzy on what they’ll be replacing.): $2,200 +/- 36 hours of my time

I thought it was bad when the Focus’ main computer gave out after we’d just ponied up for new brakes and a clutch, so you can forgive me for wanting to crush glass when my brand-new refurb MacBook Pro suddenly stopped charging in the middle of my workday. I mean, I LITERALLY spent two whole days configuring the machine – reinstalling software, repartitioning hard drives, restoring from backups – not exactly the fun time one wants to have on any given Friday. I’ve invested a lot. Which is why I almost strangled the Apple “Genius” at the bar when he said to me, blithely,

“Well, you have 14 days to return it, if you’d like.”

Um, no DUDE, I do NOT want to RETURN the computer. What I WANT is for the computer to WORK.

Which, I think, is exactly what came out of my mouth.

But now, I’m thinking. Does this mean that the computer’s a lemon? Ought I to cut losses, return the beast, and go back to square one? More research? More time? ANOTHER three days spent repartitioning hard drives? Internet, I’m confused. I need help. Please guide me.

2 Comments | anecdotal, car-ma, money, personal hell, work, worst week ever | Permalink
Posted by erinire

(Not) Getting a Cab in Austin: Part 1

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So I just got back from SXSW, which it’s actually difficult for me to type without a hashtag, and I had like, an 85% great time.

Only 85%? But SXSW (#) is supposed to be, like, Geek Mecca! Nirvana for the nerd set! Hipster heaven!

And it was all that – and more! It was awesome like a music festival, minus the sleeping outside and the mud, and it was inspiring like church (if you’re into that sort of thing). Late nights, early mornings, and a wealth of information it’ll take me weeks to sort through. But I can break that other 15% down for you in four simple words: The cabs there? SUCK.

The first day was fine, actually. Totally cool. I went online and ordered a cab for 8:45am, and, at about 9am one showed up. Perfect! That night, I booked a cab for 8:30, just to be safe, and drifted to sleep thinking how convenient the whole thing had been.

At 9:15 the following morning, I was not finding it so very convenient. My friend’s husband, roused from bed by his groggy wife for the purpose of driving me to the convention, was not finding it very convenient either.

I’d called the cab company at 8:45 to inquire as to the status of my cab, and was told, in a slow Texas drawl, that there were no cabs avaliable.

“But I booked online!” I said, my heart rate accelerating. “You HAVE to have a cab for me!” I’d been so nervous about this very thing – the cab just never coming, being late to my first session – and here it was, happening! The power of negative thinking? SHUT UP.

“Ma’am, I don’t know what you want me to do,” answered the dispatcher.

“What do I want you to do? What do I want you to DO?” Practically shrieking, for sure: “I WANT YOU TO GET ME A CAB IS WHAT I WANT YOU TO DO!”

“I am doing my best, ma’am, but there are no cabs available.”

And that’s about when my head exploded. By the time got to the 9:30 session “The State of Social Marketing“, there was a full house and a line out the door for seats. But, bonus, the session I wound up going to instead had mimosas. That didn’t really make up for it, though. I’d really been looking forward to the social marketing session.

TBC dudes -

Leave a Comment » | best week ever, boozin', car-ma, travellin', work | Permalink
Posted by erinire

Is glad she didn’t spend any more time at the bar.

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I heard this thing on the radio the other day about how people drink and drive too frequently, and how a full stomach (and moderation) are the keys to successfully staying under the limit. This occurred to me tonight, sitting barside with my sister sipping a particularly strong vodka cocktail. I was not just hungry, suddenly, but STARVING, and it was nigh on 1am. Predictably, the kitchen had closed, and our route back to her apartment was completely devoid of pizza shops. ”I’ll just make pasta at home,” I told her, and wished her pleasant dreams.

Now, after such a night of merriment, the last thing one wants to encounter is a sobriety checkpoint. Especially when one has an inspection sticker that expired in July. It was on Rte 16, near the gas fields, and I swung an overly enthusiastic right turn into the industrial complex just in time to see a police officer parked on the curb.

He flashed his lights. I rolled down my window.

“Live around here?” he asked, with a knowing grin.

“No,” I confessed, heart pounding in my throat. “It’s just – my inspection sticker is expired.” I smiled what I hoped was a charming smile and tried to act casual.

“Ah, a guilty one!” exclaimed the officer. “I don’t think they’re looking for that. Anyway, you can’t get out this way – it’s all dead end streets. If they give you any trouble, just tell em your brother in law is stationed down the alley here, eh?”

I thanked the kind sir and proceeded through the gauntlet – a flashlight in your face and an uncomfortable exchange of pleasantries wherein you know the other party is trying to smell your breath. A stranger’s face pushed up inside your personal space. I made it through (no surprise, really), and smoked a victory cigarette to celebrate. Then, when I got home, I cracked a High Life and wrote this post. Cheers, weekend – you’ve started out in splendid fashion.

Leave a Comment » | best week ever, boozin', car-ma, city livin', how i am awesome, I enjoy being a girl | Permalink
Posted by erinire

Money doesn’t talk, it whispers.

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The button on my favorite jeans broke today. My only comfortable jeans. The only ones that don’t make me feel fat. And my first instinct was to go out and buy another pair. I mean, they’re just Lucky Brand, not like, Paige Denim or something, so we’re talking about a relatively small investment. Just $99 plus tax for all the glory that comes with a new, well-fitting pair of jeans.

My instinct, as I said, was to just drive down to Newbury Street and grab a pair. We got some new bookings at ECA Productions, and I mean, what am I going to do otherwise? Jeans are a necessity. Right?

I was living pretty high on the hog with Katsumi. We both made good money, so we both pretty much did what we wanted. No groceries but the groceries from Whole Foods, no cat food but the very best. I bought new clothes without a second thought, and, though I love to cook, we dined out more than we dined in. Once, during restaurant week, we went out to Pigalle and spent the equivalent of a month’s car payment on dinner and drinks for two. It was no big deal. Coming from this angle, yes, I mean, of course, just go get the jeans. You need them. Obviously.

So this morning I slung my purse over my shoulder, grabbed my wallet and my shiny new Discover card and headed out the door. But instead of going into the city and hitting the Lucky store, I went to a Goodwill in Somerville and unloaded five boxes of crap from the old apartment. Those days of decadence are long gone, the days of five-course dinners and designer shoes, and even though once upon a time replacement denim may have taken precedent, these days I’m more worried about paying our rent. Like, actually worried.

Don’t get me wrong – I’m not complaining. I still sustain some very expensive habits, and it’s hard to rally a pity party around a camp that’s basically burning cash. I live a nice life, I drive a nice car, and, really, I wouldn’t want to change a thing. It’s interesting to see how “needs” turn into “wants”, and how “wants” turn into “luxuries”, and how easily we can slip from one way of being to the next, when we’re given no choice but to do so. I like that I seem to be resilient, in light of things.

2 Comments | car-ma, city livin', cookin', eatin', how i am awesome, jake, money, progress? | Permalink
Posted by erinire

This really gives my “car-ma” category new meaning.

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Our neighbor knocked the sideview mirror off our car. And by “our car” I mean “B!’s car” by which I mean the Focus. To be fair, the mirror hadn’t attached properly since August 2006 and had been held on with metal screws since sometime in 2007, so it probably wasn’t the most solid of things. But still. I mean, you break your neighbor’s car, you should tell them, right? Maybe apologize? Because, I mean, this mirror thing effectively totals the car. Without it, B! can’t pass inspection, and without that, he can’t drive the car. Right? Right.

So our neighbors effectively totaled our car.

Now, I’m no stranger to the “hit and run” mentality – this one time, after college, I was late to work and accidentally backed into the rear driver’s side door of this car parked behind our driveway. And, I’ll admit, I panicked. I drove away. But I was SO RIDDLED WITH GUILT that after work I spent an hour driving around the neighborhood so I could find the car I hit and leave a note with contact information. Turns out it was a good thing I did, because that car belonged to MY neighbor, and, to make matters, worse, he was standing at the front door when it happened. I paid for his bodywork out of pocket – no small feat, on my waitress salary – but the financial burden at least helped to alleviate my guilt.

I’m not saying that our neighbors should pay for a new mirror, or that they should buy us a new car, but really. If you break something that belongs to somebody else, you should at least have the common courtesy to tell them. If this is karma, it’s not well-balanced. Don’t you think?

2 Comments | car-ma, city livin', worst week ever | Permalink
Posted by erinire

In my NEW car, you can use any door you like.

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I had to work all weekend, but I forced B! to go out and get us a Christmas tree. He didn’t really want to – he was into the aluminum tree idea – but I was adamant about a REAL tree. Because I have ORNAMENTS. That hang on a REAL tree.

Or so I said.

So anyway, he comes back with the tree, all huffing and puffing, and I’m like, what’s wrong? Well apparently, somebody at the tree place had opened the rear passenger side door of the car, the door you’re never supposed to open. Ever. It hasn’t closed properly since 2008 sometime, and while I’ve grown used to shrieking door-opening warnings to anyone who might pass my way (sorry, girl who I picked up at the airport that time), B!, apparently, had not yet developed that reflex. So the door had been opened, and then, hey! The door wouldn’t shut.

“So what’s the trick?” he asks me.

The trick, dude, is to not let anyone open the door.

I told him so.

Then we set up the tree, drank some truly putrid mulled wine (free advice: add some sugar), like, duct-taped the door shut or something, and went to bed.

Today I made him do our laundry, because I’m just that giving and wonderful, and, after he dropped off our clean clothes, he set off for the repair shop. You know, to get the door fixed. Because it’s obviously broken.

Should I be ashamed that in the fifteen months or so that door’s been broken it never once occurred to me to take the thing in and have it serviced? (Like seriously. Never crossed my mind.) Or should I just be thankful that, once the hinge finally shit the bed, it wasn’t my problem anymore?

I lean towards the latter.

Leave a Comment » | car-ma, free advice, how i am awesome | Permalink
Posted by erinire

This day is not going well.

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I’ve been feeling really stressed lately. I have two high-test jobs with two high-profile producers, I’m actively seeking more freelance work, and I have no less than 4 weddings to edit. Plus I’m looking for an apartment, trying to find time for my friends, and I gained all this weight so none of my pants fit me anymore. The latter is unrelated to the former or anything else, but contributes to my discontent in a way that only weight gain can.

Each day, before getting out of bed, I check my email. Usually it’s just mailing list spam-crap, but today there was an email from my producer. It wasn’t a happy email. And it’s my fault that it wasn’t a happy email. If there’s one thing that makes me feel worse than wearing ill-fitting pants, it’s feeling totally inept, and so if he’s not happy then I’m not happy and nobody’s happy. So let’s take that as a start.

Then I had this job interview for some freelance work. I’m feeling like a fat slug, I have nothing to wear, it’s pouring rain, and my hair has all the bounce and body of a dead rat. Plus, I’m like, why would anyone want to hire ME? I can’t even do basic MATH, it’s a miracle I can even put my SHOES on in the morning without HURTING somebody. I sucked in my gut, buttoned my old trouser jeans, and resignedly pinned back my bangs. I looked like shit. No lie.

So the interview went OK I guess, and then I went to Starbucks to do some work, and got yet MORE bad news from the boss. So feeling less happy. Feeling a little panicked, in fact. Feeling, for the first time in months, like an Ativan might be in order.

Instead, I turned to retail therapy. There was an Urban Outfitters near the Starbucks, and Lo! A sale on jeans! Things looking up! Except for how they had no jeans in my new, bigger size. Except for how, en route to the Urban, I got a CALL from my producer. Still not happy. So I’m still not happy. Even if they HAD my size at Urban, I STILL would not have been happy. Work is more important to me than well-fitting clothes, you see.

But I was scheduled for a lunch date with Shanna and baby Hayden, and baby therapy seemed like not such a bad thing. She’d asked me to pick up some sandwiches for us, and a bag of chips, and I was all set to do that until the lady in the sandwich store yelled at me for not closing the refrigerator. So I forgot all about the chips, and felt like a huge asshole.

Then I had baby therapy and a beer, and I ate my whole huge sandwich and felt like a beast, and then I got my hair cut and realized I had no cash for a tip, meanwhile, I’ve gotten ANOTHER email about the work situation and things are NOT looking up but I still have to go to the post office and mail this DVD this client’s been asking about for like MONTHS and maybe I can bring the tip to her tomorrow before I leave for DC? Then holy shit I still have to pack and what do I wear and what do I have that fits me and at least my hair looks a little better now but SERIOUSLY JUST SHOOT ME IN THE FACE BECAUSE IJUSTCANTTAKEITANYMORE.

Aaah. Now I feel better.

5 Comments | aberrant behavior, car-ma, charming neurosis, Depression, eatin', meds, personal hell, tiniest violin, work, worst week ever | Permalink
Posted by erinire

Call me a masochist, I call me awesome.

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On this lovely, sunny, temperate Massachusetts Friday, I’m sure that most people had asked for the day off. Or left work early. Or, at the very least, took it easy on themselves. It’s July 2 for Chrissake, I mean, everybody and their brother is staring down the barrel of a three day weekend. Bring on the party, right?

You know, or not.

I woke up with a most inauspicious to-do list:

1) bikini wax
2) car shopping
3) massive server migration at BLPI

The third part of my plan went horribly – I’d forgotten that each dropbox user only has 2g of storage space, so at the 11th hour I had to re-think the whole operation. Big ups to Katsumi, who helped me through with phone support. Eventually I got everything working fine (I think), and with any luck I’ll be able to work remotely during my upcoming Arizona vacation.

The first part of my plan went as comfortably as one might expect when a smooth-skinned European woman spends an hout working her way around your nether-regions with a tongue depressor and muslin strips. (Read: hey, at least I remembered to take Advil first)

And the second part of my plan, well….

IT WENT FUCKING FANTASTIC!!! I TOTALLY BOUGHT A CAR!!! ALL BY MYSELF, WITHOUT ANYBODY TO HELP ME!!!

Hello “The Only Manual Yaris Sedan in the Greater Boston Area (Which Also Happens To Be Black) (Which Also Happens To Be My Favorite Color)”, you will be mine on Wednesday, July 24. I think I’ll call you Alexis.

2 Comments | best week ever, car-ma, how i am awesome | Permalink
Posted by erinire

Just when you thought it was safe to get back in the Focus,

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I just had the most unpleasant altercation with a huge African cab driver. I was driving back to the office and slowed down along the way to see if there was parking in front of the convenience store. I like a Diet Coke with my meal, although, if they had it, a beer would have been preferable. The realization that there WAS no convenience store parking came simultaneous with a horn blast from the cab behind me.

While I try to avoid making generalizations, I feel like I can honestly say that the vast majority of cabs I’ve taken have been piloted by bigoted, misogynistic assholes, and it gives me a bad feeling about cabbies in general. Driving in Boston for the last nine years has done little to alleviate my distaste. If you’re a nice cab driver, and I know there are a few of you, I apologize for my wide net. But by and large, cab drivers: you are douchebags.

Back to moments ago. The driver lays on his horn, and, once I register that the offensive noise was directed at me, I immediately slam on my brakes. I realize this makes me an asshole driver too, but, emboldened by the impending retirement of the Focus as it stands, I’m don’t find myself in a position to give a shit if the fucker rear ends me. I return to the posted speed limit and continue. The (one lane) road widens briefly, and the cab takes the opportunity to try and pass me on the right. Oh no sir, I say, and swerve into his path of travel. Then, of course, he tries to pass me on the left. Did I mention the road is one lane? I mirror his movements and thwart him again. At the stop light ahead, I make sure to block the entire path of travel so he can’t get around me on either side, but the crafty bastard pulls halfway into oncoming traffic so that our windows are facing.

Before he’e even there, I’m giving him the bird. Arm outstretched, finger pointed skyward. He gets out of the car and wow.

I’m not joking. This guy is built like a linebacker. HUGE. And through his accent I can hear him asking if I’ve got a problem. I should probably shut my mouth at this point, but there’s no stopping once you wind me up.

“YOU’RE my problem!” I shout, retracting the offensive digit. “What the fuck were you beeping at me for?”

The car in front of us edges eastward. I nudge the Focus up to its bumper. The cab driver hops back into his car and pushes forward, barely grazing my sideview mirror. I stare through my rolled-down window into his car.

Unable to contain himself, he leaps out once more and, gesturing wildly, tells me that next time he sees me in the street, he’s going to pop me one.

“Oh, REALLY. REALLY? You’re going to hit a woman? Come on, go ahead man! Let’s see what happens!”

I’m totally ready for him to pull me out of the car. He’s screaming. I’m totally ready to be punched in the face – broken nose, fractured jaw, bruises on my arms and torso. He’s moving towards my car, I’m daring him to finish the job. I’m totally ready for it. It’ll make headlines.

Traffic moves. I pull left, cutting off a Volkswagen in my race to beat him out of the gate, not caring if the cab’s bumper leaves marks all down my car. As he scrambles into the driver’s seat, he shouts the words that are still echoing in my ear:

YOU KNOW YOU’RE A WOMAN, RIGHT? YOU KNOW YOU’RE A WOMAN!

I have problems with anger management. Bad problems. And I feel it’s a testament to my continued progress that I didn’t throw it into reverse and back the fuck into his driver’s side door. I know I’m a woman, you sideswiping, loudmouthed, bullying piece of shit. The world won’t ever let me forget it. And you, you must be one hell of a man.

2 Comments | aberrant behavior, car-ma, city livin' | Permalink
Posted by erinire

open invitation

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Seems like I might have to get a new car. At 110,000 miles I’m not into sinking that much more money into the thing, and there’s a little squealing in the front brakes that makes me think that money might soon need to be sunk. I’m figuring somewhere in the realm of $500, and plus when they take my front end apart they’ll also see that my shocks are blown. Then they’ll look at the concrete-scraped side and want to replace a door or something, and then they’ll notice that my sideview mirror is bolted on with metal screws.

The car, you see, is no Lexus.

On top of all that, I’ve had a sneaking suspicion that a new clutch is somewhere not far off the horizon, although I have no basis for thinking so other than the fact that I’ve never replaced it. This worries me. I’m a worrier.

I have some money saved up I could use for a down payment, but I’m doing a serious cost/benefit analysis of the situation. And I figured, hey, why not ask the Internet? The internet always has such great advice. What would you do with the old car? Which new car would you get? Or would you just sally forth with worthless brakes, no shocks, and a clutch whose days are numbered?

4 Comments | car-ma, charming neurosis, free advice | Permalink
Posted by erinire

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