I Think There May Be Something Seriously Wrong With Me

"You Two Just Can't Be Left Alone"

I totally meant to post this when it happened but seeing as how it happened right before E showed up in PR and we all know how that worked out I sort of forgot about it. 

The week before E came for his free vacation my parents went on their vacation to NYC and Maine leaving Little Brother and myself home alone.  Their only fear was that the two of us would kill each other before they returned home.  My brother and I are 12 years apart in age and we both like to pretend we are only children.  (Plus we didn't grow up together so it really is like we are only children.  Kinda sorta.)

Puerto Rico does not believe in central air.  Each room has has it's own air conditioner.  The air conditioner are pretty big units too, not just like window units.  I love this because I like to sleep with my room really, really cold.  The Mommy and The SAM left for the airport on Wednesday at 4:00 a.m.  I woke up to say goodbye and my room felt a little warm but I thought maybe my air-conditioner had froze.  When I woke up for real at eight I was drenched in sweat.  My air-conditioner was not working.  I woke Little Brother up so he could call the air-conditioning people.  They were unable to fix my air conditioner until the next day, which when you think about it is pretty fast service.  I slept in The Mommy's room that night.

That night there was a torrential downpour.  No one told me that the house we were renting leaked.  I woke up Thursday morning to a flood on the floor of the bedroom.  Water was running down the wall behind the air-conditioner.  Actually it was like a river was coming through the wall.  It was everywhere.  The floors are all Mexican tile so the water just gets in all the little crevices between the tiles and runs everywhere.  I once again woke Little Brother up.  His response was, "Yeah, the house has construction problems.  Throw some towels on the floor."  Thanks for all your help.  Eventually it quit raining and I got the floor cleaned up.  Three loads of towels and a shit-load of mopping.  With no help from Little Brother.  The air conditioner man came and all was right with the world.

The next day I was watching TV in The Mommy's room, because Roxy and I liked their bed better for TV watching.  (Roxy is my dog.  Actually Roxy is my brother's dog but has officially adopted me as her owner so now she is my dog.)  The air conditioner stopped working.  I told Little Brother he had to call the air conditioning man again to come fix the air-conditioner.  He refused because he said the air-conditioning man had just been there and he didn't want to bother him again.  I called my mom and told on him.  My mom told The SAM and The SAM, who is Little Brother's dad, called and reamed him a new one.  Little Brother was very mad at me but I, as the GOOD child, did not want them coming home from vacation with no air-conditioner in their room.  I'm always thinking of other people.

Little Brother calls the air conditioning man who says he will come on Friday.  Again, quick service.  I was impressed.  Once I knew the air was going to be fixed Roxy and I went to the beach.  When we came home from the beach I stepped in a huge puddle of water in front of the elevator.  I looked around to see if the ceiling was leaking or if somehow water was leaking out of the elevator.  Then I realized the water was actually coming from the half-bath right beside the elevator.  It looked to me as if the toilet had overflowed.  I went to find Little Brother.

Lola:  Did you shit in the half bath?

LB:  No, no I did not!  Why would I go downstairs and shit in the half-bath when I have my own bathroom up here to shit in?  And why in the fuck are you concerned with my shit?

Lola:  The half-bath has overflowed.

LB:  Throw some towels down.

After telling him he was a worthless piece of shit, I cleaned up the water with towels and a mop.  And started a load of laundry.  Roxy and I decided to watch some TV in the family room.  About 2:00 I hear my brother yell, "Fuck!"  He comes flying into the family room screaming about me not cleaning up the overflowed toilet.  I calmly explained I had already cleaned it up.  He says, "Well there is water all over the floor and it's headed for the Oriental rug.  I'm going to play golf with Francisco so you better clean it up."  I open the door to the half bath and see water shooting from the toilet.  I'm not talking about a simply overflow here.  I'm talking about a fountain.  There was a fountain of water shooting out of the toilet.  I tell Little Brother he isn't going anywhere until we get the water turned off and some of the mess cleaned up.  Little Brother turned the water off.  I threw some towels down.  Right about this time Francisco shows up.  Francisco is hot.  He walks into our house and sees me in rain boots, cut-offs, a wife beater, and yellow scrub gloves.  I looked hot.  (Seriously no.  Not hot at all.) 

As Little Brother is explaining the situation to Francisco water starts shooting from the toilet again.  This is impossible because the water has been turned off.  All of sudden I see soap bubbles in the water.  The water coming out of the toilet is somehow the water from the washing machine.  Little Brother and I scream, "Turn it off!"  We were actually screaming at each other but Francisco thought we were yelling at him so he ran upstairs to turn the washing machine off.  Poor guy.

In a closet in the garage I found seven mops and four of those squeegee type things with long handles.  This made me think that the owners of the house had most likely had a similar problem to the one we were having sometime in the past.  The Mommy called right in the middle of us squeegeeing the floor.  I told her the dilemma.  I also told her she paid way too much freaking rent to live with this shit.  She said, "Quit your bitchin',  I'm eating lobster and will call you back when you're in a better mood."

For two hours we mopped and squeegeed water out of the house.  WATER THAT CAME OUT OF THE TOILET.  Because of the Mexican tile it just kept spreading.  It was hellatious.  I kept making towel dams.  And yes, there was stuff floating in the water.  Not big stuff that was easily identified as shit but stuff that could have been shit or dirt or coconut particles.  The boys kept making sure some of the "probably filled with shit" water kept splashing on me.  When most of the water was gone out the backdoor Little Brother and Francisco left to go play golf.  As they were leaving Roxy thought it would be a good idea to roll around in the dirty water we had squeegeed out on the patio.  Little Brother said, "Have fun washing her."  They left me to deal with the dirty dog and the plumber.

THEY LEFT ME DIRTY AND DRESSED LIKE A CRAZY PERSON TO DEAL WITH A PLUMBER WHO SPOKE NO ENGLISH!

THEY WENT TO PLAY GOLF AND DRINK BEER!

Eventually the owner of the house showed up.  He confirmed my suspicions that there had been problems with the toilet before.  He said that whenever it rained really hard for a day or two the half-bath backed up from the street.  Nice.  How about fixing your goddamn house before you rent it out to people? 

Later in the evening The Mommy called me.  She apologized for being rude earlier.  She thought I was being a drama queen but had since learned that the house had indeed been flooded with shit or dirt or coconut shell pieces.  I'm not sure why she would think that I would be overly dramatic about any sort of problem I might be having?  I find it quite weird in fact.

So to recap, while the old folks were on vacation Little Brother and I managed to go through two air-conditioners and a toilet.  Two Oriental rugs and a couch were ruined.  For the six months the house was rented nothing went wrong until Little Brother and I were left alone to fend for ourselves.  The only thing The SAM said about any of it was, "You two just can't be left alone."  We also learned that Little Brother thinks you can fix anything by throwing some towels down.

Hypothetically

Let's say someone had a password protected blog.  Would it be horrible for this person to make a list of every single person she (or he) hates and post it on said blog?

Hypothetically speaking of course.

Tragedy Has Struck!

I found another grey hair!  This one was not an eyebrow hair.  It was not on my head.  IT WAS ON MY NOONIE!  I'm officially an old spinster lady.  This is completely unacceptable.

Phobias

Everyone knows I'm afraid of sharks.  That's a pretty rational fear as fears go I think.  I mean they are big and scary and can eat you right?  But I have another fear that is in no way rational at all.

I've been sick for most of this week.  Achy, feverish, stopped up head, bitchy, icky, etc.  I'm not sure if it's a cold, a sinus infection, the flu, or what exactly.  On top of this I have had PMS and an almost constant migraine.  Last night, about three o'clock, I was sitting on the side of the bed trying to decide if I wanted to throw up or not.  I realized one of my feet was on the floor and immediately snatched it back up into the bed.  I cannot sit on the bed, anyone's bed, and have my feet on the floor.

I'm thirty something years old and I am still afraid something or someone is going to reach out from under the bed and grab me.  Seriously.  Completely insane I know.  You want to know what's even more insane?  I've tried to see how long I can sit with my feet or even just one foot on the floor before I freak out.  The longest I've lasted is two minutes.  COMPLETELY INSANE.  No wonder I'm single huh?

So what about you... weird phobias?

A Dingo Stole My Baby

A dingo didn't actually steal my baby but someone stole my baby's name and I am pissed.  As you may know, I have an imaginary dog.  Well I also have an imaginary China baby*.  She isn't really so much imaginary as just not here yet but we often talk about my China baby whose name is Daisy. 

My mother has said numerous times she would be happy for me to adopt a child but she would rather me not name her Daisy.  I told her I was actually going to name the baby Daisy Maisy.  The discussion that ensued after that is neither here nor there.  Of course, I have no plans to adopt a child or to even attempt to adopt a child under my current circumstances but it is a nice dream.

For years I have had one name picked out should I ever have a child of my own.  It is an unusual name.  And I don't mean like Daisy Maisy unusual.  It is also a tribute to two people in my family who I feel have done the most for me.  I think I've mentioned this name somewhere before on the blog but I'm not sure where.  The Boy agreed to name our daughter this name.  The ex-fiance knew if we had kids one of them would have this name.  The boys may have changed but I was and will always be certain I want a child named after these two people.  Plus it's a kick ass name.  I must not be the only one who thinks it's a kick ass name.

The SAM has three nephews.  One of which, at the time of this discussion, was pregnant and another who is trying to get his wife pregnant.  Nephew One and his wife refused to discuss baby names with anyone in the family.  They knew they were having a boy and wanted the name to be a surprise.  Nephew Two made it loud and clear that Nephew One had better not use the name Emery because that's the name he and his wife were going to use.  Nephew Three, who has two young kids and is widowed, said none of them could use the name because if he got married again he wanted to name his next kid Emery.  This argument happened over a family dinner.  The Mommy called to tell me about it and I pshawed it off thinking none of them would actually use MY baby name.

Nephew One's baby was born two days ago.  They named the baby MY baby name.  Now granted they only used MY baby's first name but still.  And The Mommy tells me that Nephew Two is still planning on using the name for his baby when they get pregnant.  The following conversation ensues:

L:  You call them and tell them to change that baby's name right now!

M:  Lola!  You are being ridiculous.

L:  Out of all the baby names in the world why did they have to choose mine?

M:  They are showing respect to their Grandma K.

L:  Not with that hippie sounding middle name they aren't.

M:  You can still name your baby Emery Collins.

L:  Great then we'll have four Emery's running around.  That will be unique. (This is sarcasm.)

M:  Haven't you said that your child must be called Emery Collins.  We must refer to her with her full name at all times?

L:  Well yes.  But still.  I need a baby before anyone else steals my name.  Whose going to get me a China baby?

M:  You could do like Jeannie Kafferty's** daughter.  (This girl hooked up with a guy she hadn't seen in 10 years and got pregnant on New Years Eve.)

L:  I don't know anyone I like enough to even just hook up with.

M:  I don't think she liked this guy very much either.

L:  I don't even know anyone I like enough where I could get drunk enough that I could stand for them to touch me.

M:  Well then I guess you aren't having a baby anytime soon if you aren't willing to go to the trouble of getting yourself knocked up.

*I hope I don't offend anyone by saying I want a China baby.  This is not meant in a derogatory way. When I was in kindergarten I thought the Oriental children in my school were beautiful and I came home one day asking, "Why couldn't I have been born a China baby?"  It just sort of always stuck.

**This is a made up name.

They Paved Paradise And Put Up A Parking Lot

I'm lazy.  Really lazy and I have no problem admitting it.  Parking at school is a huge problem so every semester I stand in line for anywhere from 30 minutes to 5 hours and pay $72 to park in a Priority Lot so I don't have to walk from East Bumfuck to get to class.  I've written about my parking office experience before.  (By the way, I have never used the handicap sticker to park at school.  Ever.  And if you want to know why I have the handicap sticker it is because I have asthma and was given it by my doctor one winter when I had pneumonia twice.  And I've never even used it to park at the mall during the holidays either.  Even though I have been tempted.)  This year I stood in line for 5 hours to get a Priority hangtag.  Five hours is a long time.  It sucked.  Then I paid $72 on top of all the other money I pay to the damn school.  Yes, I do realize I CHOSE to stand in line because I CHOSE not to park in general parking and I CHOSE to pay $72 extra dollars but for all of that my access card should work.  Right?

Wednesday, I drove up to the gate and my window wouldn't roll down.  This caused me great distress.  I have had the window fixed several times.  The window not working is a direct result of this incident.  The window just decides sometimes not to work with no warning.  So here I am hanging out the door of my car trying to swipe my hangtag so the gate will go up while cars are lining up behind me.  The machine keeps beeping and the gate is not going up.  Finally, I just hit the button to get a regular ticket to pay to park.  I park the car and run to class because now I'm almost late.  When I return to my car later I slam the door a few times and the window works again.  Go figure.  I try the swipe card once more when leaving the lot just to make sure that the whole hanging out of the car thing hadn't fucked up my swiping ability.  I call the window repair people while driving to the Parking Services.  I arrive at parking services and the following fiasco goes on.

Lola:  Hi!  My hangtag doesn't work can you please help me?

PO Lady:  Are you going to the right lot?

Lola:  Um... excuse me?

PO Lady:  Are.  You.  Going.  To.  The.  Right.  Lot?

Lola:  Well yes, I believe so.  School has been in session almost a month and this is the first day the swipe thingy hasn't worked.

PO Lady:  Lemme see it.

Lola:  OK here it is.  Thank you so much for helping me.

PO Lady:  (Types something into the computer.)  It's coded right in the computer.  You must be using it wrong.

Lola:  Ma'am?

PO Lady:  You must be using it wrong.

Lola:  I'm not sure how I could use a swipe card wrong.  It didn't work going into the lot and I tried to use it when I left the lot.  It didn't work either time.

PO Lady:  Have you laid it against a credit card, a garage door opener, or a cell phone?

Lola:  No ma'am.  It's been hanging on my rear view mirror since I paid for it.

PO Lady:  Stay here.  (Walks off taking my hangtag with her.)

Lola:  OK.  Thank you.  (Where in the fuck am I going to go?)

PO Lady:  I recoded it.

Lola:  Thank you so much.  Have a nice a day.

I immediately drive back over to the lot to see if the tag works.  Some people would have just gone home and waited until the next day.  I figured I was already on campus and if it didn't work I wanted to go ahead and clear it up that day and not wait until the next morning when I couldn't get into the lot before class.  Guess what?  IT DIDN'T FUCKING WORK!

15 minutes later

Lola:  Hi!  It's me again (Waving hangtag.)  It still doesn't work.

PO Lady:  Sweetie are you sure you're going to the right lot?

Lola:  (Incredulous look)  Ma'am, as I told you before, school has been in session for almost A MONTH.  I've been parking in Lot 40 for five days a week since school began.  I POSITIVE I'm going to the right lot.  (And don't fucking call me sweetie.)

PO Lady:  You need to drive back over there and see if it works.

Lola:  That is exactly what I just did.  That's where I've been for the past fifteen minutes.  IT DOES NOT WORK.  (I'm getting angry now.)

PO Lady:  I don't know what to tell you.  All the info in the computer is correct.  I recoded it.  It must be user error.

Lola:  User error?  Ma'am I seriously doubt I'm suddenly using the swipe card wrong.

PO Lady:  Well I can't help you.  You'll need to speak to the manager.

Lola:  OK.  May I please speak to the manager?

PO Lady:  Here is her card.  She's at lunch.

Lola:  I don't mean to be a pain but can you not just give me a new card?  Isn't that what the manager is going to do?  I mean obviously you have already recoded the card and it still doesn't work.  Is she going to drive me over there and teach me how to properly use the card or is she just going to issue a new card?

PO Lady:  Fill out this form.

Lola:  Thank you.  (I fill out the form that you fill out when you first get a Priority Pass.)  Here you go.

PO Lady:  That will be $72.

Lola:  Um  I don't think so.  I'm not paying again for something I"ve already paid for.

At this point she went to the back and stayed there for about 20 minutes.  Finally she came back and handed me the new hangtag.

PO Lady:  Try this one.  Sweetie.

Lola:  Thanks so very much.  You have a great day!

Now what do you think irritated me most about this whole experience?

YES! No Bail!

Doesn't he just look like a sick bastard?  (I really need professional help.)

My OJ Obsession Rears Its Ugly Head Again

A few weeks ago I asked y'all whether I should buy the Anna Nicole book or the OJ book.  I bought the Anna Nicole book.  I read it all in one day.  I could not put it down.  If half of what is written in that book is true then everyone involved in that situation, except for Anna's two children, are dirty bastards.  That's all I have to say about that in case some of you want to read the book.

Yesterday I was doing a little school work while watching 90210.  When Brenda was done trying to steal Dylan from Kelly which she really didn't have to do since Kelly had just slept with Brandon in DC I started flipping through the channels.  Lo and behold guess who was on Oprah?  The Goldmans!  And Denise Brown!  And Christopher Darden and Marcia Clark!  Except I didn't know it was Marcia Clark at first because she has blonde hair now and has had an awful lot of "work" done.  I was so excited I thought I might have a mini stroke. 

I had already decided not to buy the OJ book for several reasons.  First of all, I basically know the story.  There was an excerpt of the "murder" chapter on the Internet a while back.  Secondly, I was opposed to buying it because both the Goldmans and the Browns had objected to the book being published because of the content so I found it a little hypocritical that the Goldmans are now having it published.  Lastly, the Anna book came out first and I told myself I could only have one.

Denise Brown refused to appear on the same stage as the Goldmans because she thinks they are hypocrites.  She made several good points.  The Goldmans also made several good points.  Oprah also asked the Goldmans if they were getting past this since it has been 13 years and Kim Goldman said she was offended to be asked such a question.  (I'm paraphrasing there.)  It was quite an interesting show and has just fed my OJ obsession.  Chris Darden and Marcia Clark did say that much of what was written in the "hypothetical" murder scene fit the evidence.  Of course everyone everywhere has seen and heard about the evidence now so it wouldn't be so hard for OJ to write what he thought the people wanted to read if he didn't really did do it.  (Yeah right.)

Several audience members said they were going to buy the book but burn it or throw it away.  They want the family to get the money but have no interest in reading the book.  I don't know if I can believe these people.  By the way, the family gets seventeen cents for every book sold.  One lady said she was going to turn the book over every single time she saw it in a bookstore.  Oprah told Denise Brown she would not be reading the book.  Both Chris Darden and Marcia Clark said it was a brutal book and painted a horrible picture of Nicole.

This has only fed my obsession but I still think I won't be buying the book.  However, if you are one of those people that are buying the book and planning on burning it or throwing it away email me and I'll be happy to dispose of it for you.

So now I need all of you to make me feel better about myself.  What kind of sick obsessions do you have?  Or if you don't want to admit a sick one how about an unusual one?

UPDATE:

I can't escape him.

The First Time Lola Was Almost Eaten By A Shark

Several times on this blog I've alluded to my lifelong fear of sharks.  It is a true fear but it is also sort of a joke in my family.  I'm not allowed in the ocean without someone on shark patrol.  On my last visit to PR my mother was watching me snorkel from the top of the boat.  Later she told me she almost dove in the water to "save" me.  That would have truly made for a great story.  She said she saw me swimming then saw me throw my head up, my face was sheet white, and I started swimming very quickly in the other direction.  She thought perhaps I saw a fish that scared me and I needed help.  What actually happened is I got distracted by a fish and almost swam right into some fire coral.  The point of this little tale is that whenever my mother is around when I am in the ocean she watches me closely.  I'm not sure what she would do if something actually tried to eat me but I always know she is there watching.

You often hear people making jokes about psychiatrists trying to blame people's problems on their parents.  I won't get into all the problems I could blame on my father if I believed in all that stuff but I do believe my fear of sharks is squarely my mother's fault.

When I was five my mother and The SAM lived in Coral Gables.  For those of you not familiar with Florida let's just say Miami.  I was sent on vacation to visit her.  This was before I knew she was my mother.  (If your new to the blog or don't know the story check the sidebar for "The First Time Lola Was Lied To.")  We were at the beach one day and I was playing in the water.  The water was somewhere between my ankles and my knees depending on the waves.  I wasn't very far out at all.  The Mommy wasn't in the water but just right behind me standing on the sand.  Now you may ask why she wasn't in the water with me.  Well the story goes that I insisted on being in the water by myself.  I'm told that I insisted on doing a lot of things by myself at that point in time.  I wasn't a very cooperative child and probably should have had the shit beat out of me somewhere along the way.

She sees something out in the water that looks like a fin.  About the time she sees this thing out in the water the lifeguard blows his whistle.  The combination of seeing something in the water and the lifeguard blowing his whistle makes her crazy.  She says, "Lola get out of the water!"  I, of course, ignore her.  I mean why would I mind her.    While trying to see where this thing is in the water, a little louder she says, "Lola get out of the water now!".  I still ignore her because I really wasn't ever very good at minding.  She then screams, "Shark!" and yanks me out of the water.  I'm screaming and fall down which causes me to scrape my knee which causes me to bleed.  She's hysterical.  I'm hysterical.  The people right around us are hysterical.

It wasn't a shark.  It was a snorkeler who had gone too far out.  The lifeguard was whistling for him to come back in.  To this day my mom still isn't sure if she saw his snorkel or a flipper.  I didn't get in the ocean again all summer.  And ever since then I've had an unnatural fear of sharks. 

VMA'S

OK so I was going to do a whole long post about the VMA's but I just don't have it in me.  I mean obviously I don't if I'm posting this late in the day.  I do have a few things to say though.

Why are they called the VMA'S anymore?  They gave away like 5 awards last night.  Seriously.  Ok they really gave out 11.   In 2006 they gave out 29 awards.  Hmmmm.  Says something doesn't it?  Next year they'll give out 5.

Britney, Britney, Britney.  The performance was lacking.  It was sad really.  I felt sorry for her.  She obviously, for some reason, didn't know the dance steps.  The lip synching wasn't a surprise of course.  The thing that bothers me was that everyone seems to be calling her fat.  If that's what fat looks like then I need to go ahead and kill myself.  She doesn't have the body she used to have but I thought she looked far from fat.  and her face looked really pretty.  I do have one complaint though.  I read somewhere the other day that she makes around $750,000 a day.  Bitch with that much money you can buy some decent hair.

Pamela Anderson must have a super cootchie for Tommy Lee and Kid Rock to still be fighting over it.

Paris Hilton needs to go back to wearing extensions.

I forgot how much I loved the song Freedom.

JT looked so sexy.  Acted like an asshole but still looked sexy.

Other than that the show sucked.

She's Just Not Normal

Earlier today I had this conversation with The Mommy after I had called her several times with no answer.

L:  Where the hell have you been?  Are you avoiding me?

M:  I'm sorry I was getting a massage.

L:  Rough life you have there.

M:  Hush.  You know I've been painting at the new house.

L:  I still don't understand why you are painting part of the house yourself but whatever.

M:  I like doing it.

L:  OK.  Well while you were getting a massage I was busy dying from a brain tumor headache.

M:  Drama queen! 

L:  You made me this way!

M:  Guess what happened to me while I was getting a massage?

L:  I have no idea.  We were talking about me.

M:  I pooted on the massage therapist.

L:  OH.  MY.  GOD.  Did you just die?

M:  I was mortified.  I apologized profusely.

L:  As you should have.  Did it smell bad?

M:  No!!!!!  It was poot.  It was small and as ladylike as possible but then I started laughing thinking about you writing about it on the blog and it happened again.

L:  Um... Mom... you do know all of this could have been avoided by just not telling me right?

M:  Oh.

Ask Lola - What To Buy

Once again I didn't get an Ask Lola this week which may mean it's time for this feature to die but I do have a question for y'all.

If you read me for any time at all you know I'm obsessed with OJ.  I was also completely obsessed with the whole Anna Nicole fiasco.  So the OJ book "If I Did It" comes out September 13th.  I was really upset when the publisher first decided not to publish it and I was determined to buy it if if ever became available.  I'm now having second thoughts.

Rita Cosby has written "Blonde Ambition."  It's supposed to be really juicy.  And it's supposed to have some really nasty stuff about Larry Birkhead who I was never a fan of.

Which one do I buy?  In the past I would have just purchased both but I really can't just spend money willy nilly anymore.  (Did I just say willy nilly?)  Yes, I realize they are both trash and just gossipy but I'm in school and sometimes my brain needs a rest and trash is just the rest it needs.  So which one gets to come home with me?

As Seen On TV

I was lucky enough to get to go to Disney World in May and then spend most of the rest of the summer in Puerto Rico.  This happened because The Mommy didn't know when or even if she was actually leaving Puerto Rico.  The move has actually been in the works for almost a year.  My mother greatly disliked living in Puerto Rico and after nine years she was done.  Well she's finally moved.  She now lives in Florida.

She and The SAM are "camping out" in the condo until their house is ready.  The condo has barely any furniture.  They sleep on an air mattress.  Don't ask me, I don't fucking understand it.  They could be staying in a hotel but my mom said no.  So since there is barely any furniture, there is no Internet.  (I would die.  She left her laptop with my brother in PR because his was stolen and she said she would buy herself a new one sometime soon and her computer is on the ship with all her other furniture.)  She calls me quite often to ask me to look up things.  Here's a perfect example. She called the other day and left a voice mail for me to look up where to find antique Indian furniture in Fort Myers.  She wants some antique Indian panels for the house and she saw a place in a magazine and she thinks it was in Fort Myers.  Oh and by the way could I hurry because she is on the way to Tampa and when she is done in Tampa she is driving over to Fort Myers to look for the panels.  She kills me.

So yesterday she calls and we have the following conversation:

M:  Will you do me a favor?

L:  Use your credit card to buy myself some things to make myself feel better because I've been sick and in a shit ass mood?  Sure.

M:  No.  You know the stuff that sat above the washing machine in Puerto Rico?

L:  Detergent?

M:  No.  The other stuff.  To get stains out.

L:  Shout?

M:  No.  You know the stuff we bought at the place.

L:  The Mary Ellen's we had to go the fabric store to get because your a weirdo?

M:  No, no, no.  The stuff that's made by that guy you see on the TV all the time.  He makes that Oxi Clean stuff and the Batman stuff.

L:  The Batman stuff?  What the hell are you talking about?

M:  Oh you know, it's called, um... KaBoom.

L:  You are so weird.  How did you get Batman out of that?

M:  You know on the cartoon it always said "Pow" and "Kaboom" when he hit people.

L:  I still have no idea what you need from me.

M:  I need the stain remover the guy sells.  I left mine with your brother along with various other things.

L:  Well I don't know what it is.  Can you not think of the name of it?  I don't have a clue.

M:  (Practically yelling)  Orange Glo!  I think it's called Orange Glo.  I need you to go on the Internet and buy me four bottles of Orange Glo Concentrate.

L:  Did Florida have a run on Orange Glo?

M:  I don't know where to find it.  Just do it for me and have it mailed to me.

Now you know where some of my whining, helplessness comes from.

By the way, the stuff is actually called Orange Clean Super Concentrate.  Orange Glo is for floors.  AND I can't find it on the Internet.  Every single place I found it is sold out.  There obviously is a run on it.