*names have been changed to protect the young, innocent and adorable

Anyway, earlier tonight I was taking all sorts of body measurements since I am trying to get in shape and I needed some beginning reference point. And just for shits and giggles, I took the measurements required to calculate your bra size and went to an online bra size calculator. Actually, I went to two.

Here is the message I got on the first one:
“Error: The numbers you entered are not in the range of our Bra Size Calculator. Please check to make sure the numbers are correct.”

I diligently checked to make sure the numbers were correct, and tried again.

Same response.

I went to the second site and put in my numbers, where I received this message:
“Your bra size is 36. But no bra is needed if these measurements are correct.”

Okay, WEBSITES, way to make a girl feel good! Look, I wear bras that actually exist in the real world. They are not size AA, they fit, and they generally fit pretty well. Granted, I feel lucky in that I can often get away without wearing a bra (even if I do look like a hoochie mama whilst doing so), but to tell me that my boob size is INCOMPREHENSIBLE in today’s world is not helping my boob-esteem at all.

Incidentally, my band/bra size is by no stretch of the imagination a 36. So screw you, site number two, you suck!

Site number one, you suck too. My boobs say so.

no, seriously, do it! you can win stuff and it’s totally non-intrusive. and also, if you win, i win, so we all win! yay!

I own 4 cars. Yes, it’s nonsensical. No, I don’t need 4 cars. No, I don’t even WANT 4 cars. Am I supposed to be spelling out “4″? Whatever.

I am trying to sell 2 of the cars, and not really having much luck, which is ruining my life since I pay $950/month for these two cars. The third I couldn’t give away if I wanted, and besides, it has sentimental value and gets great gas mileage. Plus, it’s all paid off.

The fourth is the car I use everyday.

I live in an apartment complex with a very healthy dose of open parking spaces, and I’ve been here 3 years with nary a complaint about my cars.

Well, tonight I get home from work at around 2am, only to find towing notices on THREE of my cars. The tow date? Today at 6am.

So I’ve spent the last couple hours scrambling around, trying to find parking spaces for the three cars somewhere within walking distance — no easy feat considering the nearest residential street is a couple blocks away, and finding a parking space at 3am means I have to push out my search distance by a few additional blocks.

Why were the cars supposed to be towed? Let’s see, one for “non-operability”, which is untrue, as evidenced by the fact that I got in the car and drove it away (but would I have time to argue that with the apartment manager before 6:30 in the morning? Short answer: No).

Another for expired registration, due in August. This WOULD have been paid except for the fact that one of my cars got towed TWO WEEKS ago and I had to pay $300 to get it out — thus leaving me with no money to pay the $300 registration for the car in question. I’ll try to scrape together the cash and pay it today (during business hours), so hopefully that will be a non-issue soon enough.

The last is for expired registration, due in April. This is the car that was towed two weeks ago. Granted, this was probably deserved as the registration appears to be well overdue. HowEVER, this registration has actually been paid (to the tune of $235). I can’t receive the sticker, however, until the insurance is verified, and I have been going through all sorts of hell with my insurance company over the past couple weeks since they seem to have completely erased any existence of the policy I had with them that covered this car. This car is a pain in my ass as I really want to sell it but have to straighten out the registration issues before I go trying to transfer the title.

So. I’m tired. I probably walked a good couple miles between 2am and 4am after dropping off the three cars in various places. And I have to go traipse around the neighborhood tomorrow, picking them back up. I just hope that the apartment complex will leave them alone once they’re back. (I’m not bringing back the one with the April reg sticker.) (And no, I’m not going to explain things to the office because the office manager is a bitch from hell and her main goal in life is to stomp on humanity with her managerial combat boots — she shuns rational conversation with a zealous fanaticism that is really horrifying to witness.)

That’s about all I have to say for now.

According to ask.com, I am the premier font of information regarding Pizza Hut Quepapas. What are quepapas, you ask-dot-com? To be honest, you’re probably better off getting that information from Wikipedia. What I find interesting is that despite the search engine link, I am not actually sure where that information is contained in my blog. If you know, do share. I don’t have the patience or the desire to find the information myself.

Dooce, aka Heather B. Armstrong, has started a new project; I’ll admit I didn’t look too much into it except to read the article she just promoted on her main blog. So I don’t have anything to say about the new project, but I do have to say that the article she was hawking — an article about training dogs (except, not entirely) — got me all choked up.

I’d say I’m losing it, but I think Heather is really just that good.

But forget about that, check out this cat jump. Full of poise and grace.

I think there is a mouse in my house! I think it is rooting through the garbage bag I filled with trash from my room the other day. The one I threw into my bathroom closet because I wasn’t done with it yet and I have been too busy to complete the clean-up task! The one that is currently preventing me from GOING ANYWHERE NEAR MY BATHROOM OR MY CLOSET FOR THAT MATTER, BECAUSE WHAT IF A MOUSE OR GOD FORBID A RAT IS IN THERE????

I don’t know what to do! If I ignore it, will it just make a happy home? Start running amok in my room, nay, my entire apartment? If I investigate the situation, I will surely die of cardiac arrest. If Steeler were around I would make him check it out, but HE ISN’T!

SO WHAT DO I DO???

I’m sorry for being so horribly awful about keeping in touch with you, Steph, and with you also, T.

I feel crappy.

I was going to write a post that was all self-righteous about how fruitless it is to be as thoughtful as I am. Because I really do try to be the best person I can, and to consider other people as much as possible in my actions and reactions. And I consistently find that (1) nobody around me is even half as thoughtful towards me as I am towards them, which ends up hurting my feelings when I notice; and (2) the emotional effort I expend in order to consider others is rarely rewarded or acknowledged.

And this is definitely true with the people I interact with the most.

But then I realized that I am really crappy at keeping in touch with people who are far away, even when they really want to get in touch and leave messages and send emails and write letters and mail thoughtful cards and I can tell that they are reaching out for a friend, maybe even their best friend.

In summary, I suck just as much as the people around me. I will try harder to be a better person and a better friend.