Tuesday, September 16, 2008

Spiders, Apartments, and Dating Grace: An Update

Blogging two days in a row. I know.

So. The spider... is...dead. It took an entire can of hairspray, half a can of carpet stain remover, my landlord screaming like a little girl, and a boot. But it's dead. There was some question as to the size of the spider. The body was not quite as big as my forefinger and thumb making an ok sign. But if I used my pinkie finger and my thumb, it was approximately that big. And its web was easily 5' by 3'. I know this because I discoverd the spider by walking my face into the web. But we can all rest assured, the little fucker is no more. Rest in peace, little fucker.


Mama Grace came over the other day to see the new apartment. She was thrilled that I was no longer living above a liquor store. She thought it was now much much safer. It is. However, as I was getting ready to walk her out, she peered out the window and into the yard, and said "Oh, Grace, honey. You have guests!"

I looked out the window, and sure enough there were two young men sitting out on my patio furniture. Just sitting there. Looking a little nervous. But just sitting. I told my mother that these guys were not my guests, and that I would walk her out. As she and I walk out the door, we see two cops, with their guns drawn, rush from my neighbors back yard into my backyard yelling "Freeze mother fuckers! Get on the fucking ground! GET ON THE FUCKING GROUND!"

My mom hadn't quite made it out the door yet, so she was still inside, but I was in full view of the officers, and so I put my hands in the air, too. The cop sees this and yells up to me, "Ma'am, what's the address here?"

"Um.... Ummm...." Because I just moved I totally couldn't remember. Finally it came to me. I yelled out the street number.

"What's the NAME of the street, Ma'am?

After a longer than appropriate response for someone to say the name of the street they lived on, I shouted it out. He radio'd for backup officers, and the little punks were arrested.

Apparently, they were seen dealing drugs within 1,000 feet of a school and when the cops saw them, they started running, and eventually needed to take a little breather. In my backyard.

My poor mom. She hates the term mother fucker.


So, after a few more dates with Lawyer, who, from here on out shall be referred to as Lawyer #1, it has become clear that Lawyer #1 and I are not a good match. Lawyer #1, while very sweet, attractive, and smart, apparently has not cut ties with an ex. And doesn't mind being less than forthright about it. It's sort of why Lawyer and I couldn't make it work the first time around. It's ok, though. I'm a little disappointed, but when it comes down to it, Lawyer should go and try to make it work with the Ex. I can do better, but, the ex, quite frankly, probably cannot.

In the next few weeks, I have a date with Lawyer #2, and a date with Chef. I've had a crush on Lawyer #2 for a while. I don't know Chef very well, but anyone who offers to make sure my kitchen in my new place works by cooking me a gourmet meal in it, is A-OK in my book.


anonymoushottie said...

Date the chef. I dated a chef for a year. I ate well. And chefs pay great attention to detail. I'm just sayin'.

Daisy Duke said...

I um, maybe had a fling with a chef.

Or two.

And all I'm saying is that I ate well. And they, in AH's words, pay great attention to detail.

anonymoushottie said...

Ooh ooh, and there is an "they work well with their hands" argument to be made. Yep.

Scott Rose said...

Grace, I'm a chef. And I'm coming to Chicago next weekend!!

Grace said...

So now I have TWO chefs? Yay me. So much to eat!

Fannie said...

I hate that spider.

Anonymous said...

Married nearly 16 years to a chef ~ AWESOME! Even better, chef-turned-sales but always a chef at heart means not working every night/weekend/holiday. Yum!

Thinking Fool said...

"But we can all rest assured, the little fucker is no more. Rest in peace, little fucker."

Great line. Made me laugh out loud. Well done.