Soooo Tired
I didn't post anything on Friday because I thought with all that I posted on Thursday, surely you couldn't need a post on Friday. Instead I'll blog today :)
Yesterday The Smoodge and I went and had some pictures taken, and I have determined one very important thing: it is stupid to pay for pictures that I could do a better job on. I know, that sounds like that should have been an easy conclusion to come to, but the last time I did pictures with The Smoodge, she didn't want to look at me, only at the props, and when she did look at me, she couldn't see me because I was behind a beast of a camera, so she wasn't interested, and would go back to the props. I thought that maybe having someone else take the pictures would make for better shots, because then she could see me and would smile. Nope, not so. Instead, she just wanted to CLING to me like a refugee on a life raft in the middle of the ocean with her face buried in between my legs, because there was a stranger in the same room, and God forbid this stranger, this IMPOSTER, see what her face looks like. I guess she didn't want them to recognize her from her appearances on America's Most Wanted. Regardless, it was the most exhausting photo shoot I've ever done, and I've done some pretty rowdy photo shoots. My back feels like it belongs to a ninety year old woman with osteoporosis. And at the end of the shoot, even though the pictures of her weren't the best ever, I STILL paid a crap load of money for them. You can see them here. (By the way, those are ALL the pictures taken exactly as they came from the camera, not just what I purchased or how the final prints came out)
After the pictures yesterday, I had a guy interested in buying my couch and chair come out and take a gander. I apparently give crappy directions, worsened by the fact that San Antonio makes crappy roads and even crappier construction, and the poor guy spent about 30 minutes literally driving in circles around my complex looking for me. The final time he called me before he found the place, he made a crack about having a cold beer waiting for him when he got here. I chuckled at that, and hung up the phone. He got here, we did the normal introductory thing, and he asked if he could go out and look at the view from my balcony, which isn't bad (I overlook the pool). Sure, Strange Man I've never met before, come on out. We stood out there for a minute making the smallest of talk, and he brings up the beer again. Ummm...seriously? Yup, he was serious. So, in the spirit of being a good sales person and giving the customer what he wants, I grabbed a beer for him, and he proceeded to have a seat on the sofa and tell me his life story. I'm trying to look interested. I've spent the last MONTH trying to sell this damn thing, and I'm hoping at the very least this guy will feel sorry for me and buy it. But seriously, don't care that you used to live in Seattle and that you're divorced with an 11 year old and are in San Antonio because you are an electrical/computer engineer. This is a sale, not a date. But it's been so long since I've been on one of those that maybe I'm getting the two mixed up, and I'm beginning to question whether or not this is the one where I'm supposed to sleep with the guy. No no, I'm pretty sure that's the date one, not the sale one. Whatever, he finally finishes the dang beer and asks to use the restroom. I almost want to ask him if he's trying to buy the apartment from me or the couch. Anyway, there's not really a point to this story other than he's probably not going to buy my sofa (my thoughts, he claimed he would, but he may as well have said 'I'll call you'), I wasted a beer, and I don't care what I'm selling, I don't like strangers in my house.
Today was tiring as well. I spent a little while in NB hanging out at the DQ because a friend of mine was having a car wash there to benefit Relay for Life. It gave me a chance to show off my ridiculously expensive photos of The Smoodge too. When we came home, Her Smoodgeness went down for a nap, and I got down to business getting my living room set up now that my entertainment center is gone. I finished the wiring for my TV and surround sound, moved the sofa and chair around to better accommodate, which KILLED my shoulders and arms, and voila! Here's the result:
I'm pretty excited about it. It gives Smoodge so much more room to play, and that's what's really important. Well, that, and now I'm going to give my neighbors something to REALLY bitch about now that the surround sound is operational:) I would also like to state that organizing wires and hiding them is a LOT freaking harder than I had envisioned, and as I type this my fingers are SCREAMING at me because they are so raw. So if you are keeping count, we've got sore shoulders, sore arms, sore back, and bloody fingers. Man that's sexxy.
Yesterday The Smoodge and I went and had some pictures taken, and I have determined one very important thing: it is stupid to pay for pictures that I could do a better job on. I know, that sounds like that should have been an easy conclusion to come to, but the last time I did pictures with The Smoodge, she didn't want to look at me, only at the props, and when she did look at me, she couldn't see me because I was behind a beast of a camera, so she wasn't interested, and would go back to the props. I thought that maybe having someone else take the pictures would make for better shots, because then she could see me and would smile. Nope, not so. Instead, she just wanted to CLING to me like a refugee on a life raft in the middle of the ocean with her face buried in between my legs, because there was a stranger in the same room, and God forbid this stranger, this IMPOSTER, see what her face looks like. I guess she didn't want them to recognize her from her appearances on America's Most Wanted. Regardless, it was the most exhausting photo shoot I've ever done, and I've done some pretty rowdy photo shoots. My back feels like it belongs to a ninety year old woman with osteoporosis. And at the end of the shoot, even though the pictures of her weren't the best ever, I STILL paid a crap load of money for them. You can see them here. (By the way, those are ALL the pictures taken exactly as they came from the camera, not just what I purchased or how the final prints came out)
After the pictures yesterday, I had a guy interested in buying my couch and chair come out and take a gander. I apparently give crappy directions, worsened by the fact that San Antonio makes crappy roads and even crappier construction, and the poor guy spent about 30 minutes literally driving in circles around my complex looking for me. The final time he called me before he found the place, he made a crack about having a cold beer waiting for him when he got here. I chuckled at that, and hung up the phone. He got here, we did the normal introductory thing, and he asked if he could go out and look at the view from my balcony, which isn't bad (I overlook the pool). Sure, Strange Man I've never met before, come on out. We stood out there for a minute making the smallest of talk, and he brings up the beer again. Ummm...seriously? Yup, he was serious. So, in the spirit of being a good sales person and giving the customer what he wants, I grabbed a beer for him, and he proceeded to have a seat on the sofa and tell me his life story. I'm trying to look interested. I've spent the last MONTH trying to sell this damn thing, and I'm hoping at the very least this guy will feel sorry for me and buy it. But seriously, don't care that you used to live in Seattle and that you're divorced with an 11 year old and are in San Antonio because you are an electrical/computer engineer. This is a sale, not a date. But it's been so long since I've been on one of those that maybe I'm getting the two mixed up, and I'm beginning to question whether or not this is the one where I'm supposed to sleep with the guy. No no, I'm pretty sure that's the date one, not the sale one. Whatever, he finally finishes the dang beer and asks to use the restroom. I almost want to ask him if he's trying to buy the apartment from me or the couch. Anyway, there's not really a point to this story other than he's probably not going to buy my sofa (my thoughts, he claimed he would, but he may as well have said 'I'll call you'), I wasted a beer, and I don't care what I'm selling, I don't like strangers in my house.
Today was tiring as well. I spent a little while in NB hanging out at the DQ because a friend of mine was having a car wash there to benefit Relay for Life. It gave me a chance to show off my ridiculously expensive photos of The Smoodge too. When we came home, Her Smoodgeness went down for a nap, and I got down to business getting my living room set up now that my entertainment center is gone. I finished the wiring for my TV and surround sound, moved the sofa and chair around to better accommodate, which KILLED my shoulders and arms, and voila! Here's the result:
I'm pretty excited about it. It gives Smoodge so much more room to play, and that's what's really important. Well, that, and now I'm going to give my neighbors something to REALLY bitch about now that the surround sound is operational:) I would also like to state that organizing wires and hiding them is a LOT freaking harder than I had envisioned, and as I type this my fingers are SCREAMING at me because they are so raw. So if you are keeping count, we've got sore shoulders, sore arms, sore back, and bloody fingers. Man that's sexxy.
Comments
Like what you've done with the place. Looks good. Sorry to read that it was so painstaking to rearrange your furniture but trust me I KNOW how heavy that stuff is so I wasn't surprised.
Oh hey, let me know if you are planning to sell your other TV. I know a certain someone who might be interested.