Sever Weather for Georgia

The other night when I was lying in bed listening to my poor furnace run constantly, I wished that the buildings in Georgia had better insulation. Scratch that, I wished that the building had any insulation. I considered crawling out of bed to get another blanket from the closet but then realized that I would have to move. Moving was not in the program so I thought that maybe if I farted I would get warmer. But in reality it really was not that cold and it sure didn't stop me from falling asleep.

The next day I found out that the state of Georgia was under "Sever Weather." The "cold Attic air" was causing the temp to "fall into the teens and 20s." Who would have thought? This was going to be the "coldest night so far" for some areas this season. And the warning ended with always good advice: "residents across North and Central Georgia are encouraged to take appropriately protective actions against the extremely cold temperatures."

Just in case you don't understand the severity of my situation here is Georgia let me tell you the circumstances that I was in when I read this Sever Weather Warning. I was sitting at my desk wearing a three quarter length sleeved t-shirt and jean jacket that I had put on that morning. The temperature was 34 degrees and there very day I turned off the A/C in my car. I know, I know it is all very scary to me too. But please do not worry about me during these "extremely cold temperatures." I will survive, I hope. Please, consider the freezing people in Georgia who don't know what a coat is or insulation. But there is hope. The weekend before Christmas will be int he 60s. To bad I will be in Iowa.

Peach Pit - Can Redemption

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Poor Closet

I figured out what was wrong with my closet. Ever since I have moved in, I have been comparing my huge closet to my freshman dorm room. Being that they are roughly the same size. It must have heard me and felt like it needed to be more like my dorm room to make me happy. Well unfortunately, my freshman room was also trying to kill me all first semester. You see back then (and probably still) there were large amounts of asbestos in the ceilings of Daum Residence Hall. As I slept at night, the ceiling paint would fall in my face. After about 4 months I finally got the Hall Coordinator to get some asbestos removal men to fix my room. They had come once before but decided that my room was “much worse than originally informed” and they “were not prepared to fix such a large problem at that time.” So they just left. Yes, go them. Anyway they finally came and fixed the problem. If I get to a scanner I will show you the pictures. So I guess I should stop comparing my closet to my dorm room. Maybe… (View original post for picture of the Huge Closet.)

Peach Pit - Airport Parking 1

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Beware the Closet, BEWARE!

As many of you may have noticed by know that most of my stories of me barely escaping death occur at work. Now you may wonder why I keep going back to such a dangerous place. Instead, maybe I should just stay in my safe and cozy home. But o no, home is not as safe as it may seem.

When I was shopping for a new home in Peachtree city I looked at houses, condos, duplexes, apartments, and anything else with four walls, a floor, and a roof. I decided on this dream duplex. It has two patios, a fire place, two bedrooms, a kitchen with 27 cabinets, and a closet. Not just your regular closet or those walk in closets. This closet is the closet of all closets. It is literally bigger then my freshman dorm room. I could do a cartwheel in my closet (if I could do a cartwheel). And the place was the cheapest of all the places I looked at. I had found my new perfect home for my new perfect life in Georgia. At least that is what I thought. No one could have expected what was going to happen next.

I loved my closet. I fit ALL my clothes, shoes, and packed life with still ¾ of it being empty. Like any extremely prim and proper young lady that lives by herself, I kept the house spotless. Well, okay I did put one of my t-shirts on the new wicker basket I bought and put in my Huge Closet for my socks. The t-shirt sat there for a long time, after all there was plenty of room, no need to pick up when you could still see the floor. But then my closet decided to make its move. I walked into my closet and move my t-shirt and saw powder. That’s right powder. It looked like a line of coke that I tried to wipe up with my shirt. Had I moved into a drug dealing closet home?

After closer inspection, I discovered that the powder had come off my shirt. The paint that was used for the t-shirt print had come off and turned to powder. I was stunned, but then I decided that it must have been a poorly made t-shirt and that the wicker basket must have rubbed off the print some how. I went on with my life unaware of the true horror that lurked in my closet.

A few weeks later, I was moving my priceless peace of art into the large closet. Yes, that is right my Starry Night by VanGogh. As I carried it into the freakishly large closet, I kicked my pair of flip flops to move them to make room for the painting. And there it was. Powder.

My poor powdered shoes (click on picture to see the powder up close and personal)

My shoes had turned to powder! My plastic shoes now powder. What can this be!! At first I was scared that there was chemical in my house, or maybe bugs, or maybe that powder pooping monster that found me after all these years. I thought I got rid of that monster when my family moved out of that house when I was 3. But there it was, powder. What was causing my clothing to turn to powder?

Then I realized that my powder turning closet may not be a bad thing. I could sell it as a new diet plan. That’s right! Step right up folks turn that wide @$$ of yours to powder! Then I thought of all those poor girls that fell asleep in the tanning booth and looked like an oompa-loompa when they woke up. Could I take the liability of the death by powder closet? I’m too young for jail! Then I realized, I sleep by that closet, every night!

What have I done!? I have moved into the home of the Powder Closet! Like so many twilight stories before me, I am trapped. Maybe not in the tv where cartoon characters are trying to kill me but worse. I’m stuck in a year lease. Please, do not talk too loudly, the closet might hear you. If anyone knows a good priest that performs exorcisms, please help me. Shh, I think the closet is waking.

The Huge Closet

Peachtree City Drift

Tucked away behind the forest of trees is a small Georgia town where children play, no one locks their doors, and there is a church on every corner. It seems like the perfect place to live. In fact, it has been ranked the 8th best place to live in America. However, is this southern town's appearance too good to be true? Is there a dark community secret that is lurking under the surface? On the exterior, the community of Pearchtree City drives golf carts to help the environment and encourage the laid back southern atmosphere. However, it has because apparent that Peachtree City has a band of hooligans that are drag racing golf carts. That's right, supping up golf carts to race them on the back trails of the forests. These racers have only the spoils of victory in their minds, fame, girls, and the loser's cart. But what happens when the trail is not there? Today, one innocent bystander found out. Erin witnessed the horrors of golf cart racing gone wrong. She was working and outside a band of ruffians in two golf carts tore past her window. However, little did the teens know that the cart trail entry was not located at Erin's office parking lot but rather in the lot over. The two carts came to a screeching halt. Bits of cart tire became fused to the pavement. The carts became inches apart from colliding into each other. The gang quickly looked around leery of getting caught by the local law enforcement. Finding the all clear, the hooligans tore out of the parking lot. They were lucky this time no one got hurt, but what happens next time? The trails can be a dark and dangerous place when a driver tips his cart. So next time you drive through Peachtree City, lock your doors for there could be dangerous cart racing going on right on the other side of a tree.

When it Rains it Pours

When I started my new job in Georgia, I was given an office with a wall of windows. It is really 3 windows that take up about 95% of the wall. They placed my L shaped desk next to the window wall. Thus, I can always look out the window to the parking lot just by looking up. Because of my nice view, one of my first responsibilities was to inform everyone when it rained so that they could close their car windows. Unfortunately, I failed miserably at this task. This caused me to become worried because some of the other workers would yell at me, tell me that I was fired, and maybe even given the occasional threat. Now in the rainy season of Georgia, it rains every day at exactly 3:30. (Really I even tried to get an office pool going about the rain time, but no one would take my bet.) I tried to tell everyone just to close their windows at 3:29:59 but that seemed not to work.

Fearing the retaliation of my coworkers that insisted on having their windows rolled down, I set out to be sure to know what was going on outside. This was an unusual day. When I arrived all the cars that were normally parked at the end of the parking lot by my windows were parked farther away. I thought nothing of it besides thinking it was odd. All morning, I looked outside for rain. Even though I knew it would not rain until 3:30 that afternoon. But then I heard a noise. Normally it is very quite where I work. (except for the tap dancing elephants in the office above me.) The noise became louder and I realized that it was a helicopter. And then it just kept getting louder and louder. Pretty soon I could see the helicopter from my windows. And it kept getting closer and closer. I was intrigued by the helicopter and wondering where it was going. Then I realized it was coming right at me! It was landing in our little parking lot right next to my window.

I felt the windows bowing because of the large gusts of wind that the blades were creating as it got closer. BANG! BANG! BANG! I’m in a war zone! Holy cow! The blades started to shoot rocks from the parking lot at my wall of windows! All I could think of was that the glass was going to break and I would have a rock hit me, go through my frontal lobe and exit out the back of my skull. I wouldn’t even have a chance to yell, “I’ve been hit!” It would be all over for me. And then my lifeless body would be pelted with more rocks and glass shards from the walls of windows leaving my body unrecognizable.

They would surly cremate my body due to the massive physical damage and wanting to take me back to Iowa. The night before on the news was the trial of a woman who had started a crematorium and was not cremating the bodies. Large unmarked graves were dug up on her property with masses of bodies. O, I don’t want to die in Georgia!

O good, the helicopter had landed by this time. I have survived the attack and felt like sharing. So I walked into the other office with all the other employees and told them that it was not raining but there was a helicopter in the parking lot. They did not seem to care. Apparently it is okay for a helicopter to land on their cars just as long as it doesn’t rain in them.

Later I talked to my boss who also has a wall of windows right next to mine. She told me she worries about the blades getting caught in something and getting torn off and hitting the windows and building.

Now that helicopter still comes by ever once and a while, so I am not out of the clear yet. I fell like Radar from MASH. I am the poor little Iowan that hears the chopper first and tells people. And then I get to watch everyone run out and move their cars. (Of course I never park my car close because there is always the chance that a chopper will land next to it or on it.) So sadly, there is still a possibility of a lobotomy. So, please, if I should die at work, please, do not cremate me.

Bring Back My Bell To Me, To Me!

I know this is not a death story about GA but it does have dangerous aspects and the sheep of the Erin's Sleepy Sheepy Resort fully support my detour. So deal with it, it is a serious matter.

As some of you may or may not know the GROK lab stole my life force a few months back. Yes that is right, my bell. (moment of silence). I realized my bell was gone after a very dangerous and deadly three round drag out, grip taking, floor rolling, chair crashing, wrestling match that I found myself not victorious. I had almost given up hope until today when Beth gave me the opportunity to regain my rightful place as bell owner.

She wrote “I think the ransom [of my beloved bell] should be based on who can write the best parody song (music of your choice) utilizing the words: Kris, bell, GROK, sheep, Geb, t'was (or other similarly underused contraction), and kumquat”

Here is my winning entry:

Twas the night before December 16, and all through the lab
Not a creature was stirring, not even an undergrad.
The boobs were drying in the basement with care,
In hopes that Geb soon would be there.

The grad students were grumpy all shrugged at their desks,
While visions of video games danced on their screens.
And Justin in his jacket, and I in my cap,
Had just lost our brains in the long-winded class.

When over on Kris's desk there came such a ring,
I sprang from the desk to see what it could be.
Away to the window I flew like a flash,
Tore open the candy drawer and threw up in the trash.

His hand on the breast of the new-dried silicon
"Hey Mikey keep your crap in the basement below!"
When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,
But a miniature silver looking sphere.

With a little old dinger, so lively and loud,
I knew in a moment it must be MY BELL!
More quickly than eagles his Hellions came,
And Kris whistled, and ran, and I shouted them by name!

"Now Justin! now, Jamie! now, Mikey and Beth!
Come On! Come On! Give my bell back!
To the top of the filing cabinets! to the bottom of the book case!
Come back! Come back! Don't make me get my mace!"

And then, in a twinkling, I heard on the roof top terrace
The awkward silence of undergrads sitting on their derriereious
As I drew in my head a picture of a tortured lab,
And they came, the kids that were bad.

They were dressed all in mischief, from their heads to their toes,
Ringing my poor, poor little bell.
I want it back and am sick of the story.
So just give me my bell or else I'll make you watch Maury.

So vote for me, bell owner extraordinaire and a pretty dam good poem writer if I must say. Thank you for your support.

Peachtree City - Here I Come!

My first introduction to Peachtree City, Georgia was last July (2006). I flew in first class down to interview with the consulting company. After about 30 minutes of talking, arguing, fighting, and walking and driving in circles I finally got out my rental convertible from the rental lot. As I was driving my nice rental down the interstate, I noticed that the hood of the convertible was only half attached. There I was driving on a 6 lane interstate in a company rental car using my right hand to steer and my left hand keeping the top from flying off. I started to imagine a semi whipping around me creating a strong wind sending the convertible top flying into the traffic behind me and throwing the rental car in a uncontrollable spin in all 6 lanes causing one of the most deadliest accidents in the history of the automobile. Just then my attention was redirected to my ringing phone. Which happened to be in my bag on the passenger side floor. I looked at my bag and it stopped ringing. It rang again and then again. Some how I managed to hold the hood, stay in my lane (the third lane) and answer the phone that was in my bag. It was the man I was going to interview with. He was worried because I was late from getting the convertible. After hanging up I see my salvation, a liquor store. I pulled in and put the hood on correctly. Then I drove through the town and found myself in the middle of a heavily forested area. I became very worried. The GPS unit that I received with the rental was not working. I realized that I was lost in the woods and that I may never see my friends, family, or anyone else ever again. Once, my tank ran out I would be stranded in the woods and attracted by the many different bugs that are native to Georgia. Then I realized that I had one option for survival. I called the interviewer. Luckily, he knew exactly where I was. I was right in down town Peachtree City. I finally got there and after an interesting supper with the interviewer he drove me around to "show" me the town. He would say "to your left is the Staples" and "up here is the steak house" and such. Unfortunately, I had to point out that all I could see was trees. He realized that I was right and gave up on the tour.

I'm pretty sure there is housing behind that tree
on the right. At least that is where I sleep.

Despite the fact that the town is hiding behind a forest and that I almost died twice in a 6 hour time frame, I decide to take the job. And thus started my journey to the great state of death....um..Georgia!

Thanks Karin!

Thanks Karin for setting up this blog for me. The next few post will be past stories of the last 4 months of Georgia. It should be good. Tune in later for another post!

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