Wednesday, September 07, 2011


First of all, let's pretend it's still Sunday so I can say Happy Father's Day to all the Dads in the world.  Especially mine, because he is superior to all others in like, 9 different ways.  Hey - he created me and Catherine, didn't he?
Good job, Papa.

So today is probably going to be one of those days where I ramble on about nothing.  Kind of like every other day.  The only reason I'm warning you now is that I just had a second champagne brunch with my parents and watched Jersey Shore, and I think I'm a little drunk.  So prepare yourselves for that.
Oh!  You know what exciting event happened this week?
This is the first time we've had a real blackout in our apartment since moving in.  Yes, I have been waiting for it.  There was one night a few weeks back where I thought it might be happening, but that turned out to be a false alarm; I mean, who knew having the TV, stereo, DVD player, heater, fridge, kettle, kitchen lights and toaster all on at the same time could cause a fuse to blow?
I sure didn't.
The best part about BLACKOUT, 2011 was that it happened on Friday night at about 11:30pm.  When I just so happened to be home, alone, watching Fight Club.
If this had happened ten years ago, 11-year-old-me probably would have offed herself just to avoid the Brad-Pitt-Serial-Killer-Lookalike she was sure had orchestrated the whole power failure and was now systematically moving through each apartment in the building, killing all in his path.  But 21-year-old-me?
The only thing that really had me worried was that our fridge had turned off and all our food was going to spoil.  I got over that pretty quickly when I opened it and remembered all we actually have in there is alcohol and avocado dip.  Truthfully, I'm just glad it was me at home by myself when this happened, and not Alex.  Though a fearless woman in many ways, Alex is not a fan of the dark.  Which I get.  I totally get the whole "Scared Of The Dark" thing.  A cupboard is just a cupboard, right?  Right.  But turn off the lights, and you never know what might be hiding in there.  I personally am saved by the logic that, whatever weird and fucked up creature is lurking under the bed cannot be more weird and fucked up than me.  But I don't think that works for everybody.  So yeah, I get it, being scared of the dark.
This posed a dilemma though: Alex was at the pub with a few of her mates, and probably wouldn't get home until late.  Usually in this situation I would leave a light on (so she didn't have to fumble around in the dark), but tonight I obviously couldn't.  So what would be scarier for her?
a) Walking into a dark apartment completely alone, or
b) Finding me sitting in the dark waiting for her?
I was seriously stumped for like 15 minutes.  In the end I called my Mum for advice:

Mum: Hey Baisy, what's up?
Me: Oh hey Mum.  Quick question.  We're in the middle of a blackout right now, and I -
Mum: Are you alright?!
Me: Yeah, I'm fine, the serial killers haven't reached out apartment yet.
Mum: What?! What serial killers?  There's no serial killers!
Me: I know Mum, it was just a joke.
Mum: There's no serial killers!
Me: ...Anyway, I'm fine, but Alex isn't home yet and she's a bit scared of the dark.  So what do I do?
Mum: I don't know.  Why don't you send her a nice text?  And make sure to tell her again how much you loved the roast she made on Monday night.

Oh, SIDENOTE: I've never been a fan of roast dinners, but Alex made one earlier that week that was off the chain.  I made the mistake of telling Mum (who's roasts I'd always refused to eat) all about it.  Several times.  She's a bit jealous.

Me: Yeah, okay, but then what?  Do I wait in the dark like a weirdo or just go to bed?
Mum: Maybe...did you hear the thing I said about the roast dinner?
Me: (Sigh) Goodnight, Mother.

And they think I'm the dramatic one?

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