Wednesday, August 22, 2012

Moving & Prostitution

Moving is truly the worst thing ever. I'm revising my list.

5. Animals
4. Grocery Shopping
3. A bunch of other stuff that's also miserable
2. Glee
1. Moving

I know. Moving is listed as worse than Glee. I'm sure that will change again once the new season starts. But for now, moving is seriously the worst thing ever.

And it feels especially horrible right now because, guess what, I'm moving to another country. One that I have never been to before. One that I probably still can't point out on a map because I've been too lazy to look it up. (I crossed out that last part because I'm too embarrassed for you to see it).

So here's the thing. I have to be out of my apartment by the end of next week. But I'm not going to Palau until the end of next month. That's a one month forced head-start on the move to the other side of the planet. Also, let's hear it for homelessness!

I am SO going to cramp Bob and Cathie's style when all their friends come over to play Canasta.

In an effort to finally start the massive move, last night we got a number of boxes out and started filling them with stuff to ship to Palau. Daniel is joining me on the move to Palau so he can be the nanny of my children, play irresponsibly, work on his music, work with the country's Ministry of Health for a few months before he runs off and starts law school somewhere next fall. Oh to be young again.

So we decided it was time to start shipping our belongings south. Or east. West? Or, whatever direction Palau is from where I am right now.

Problem is, as it turns out, it is really difficult to figure out what, of everything I own, is worthy of shipping. Like, do I send my collection of slap bracelets, or can I go a year without them? How many togas will I need? And don't even get me started on the "which Snuggies" question.

In all the stress, we resorted to pulling out drawers, turning them upside-down, and emptying them into old boxes. Once the box seemed full enough, we sealed it with excessive amounts of tape and moved on to the next box.

This happened for a while until I, in my panic, went to the kitchen and made banana bread for 2 hours. "I can't focus on another thing until we get rid of these old bananas!"

Today we ventured off to check out a few storage unit options in the area for the stuff that didn't happen to be in any of the drawers we dumped. We found a place that seemed to meet our needs, even though it looked a lot like something I saw in Tuscan once called the "No-Tell Motel." And in fact, I'm 140% positive we accidentally stumbled upon a prostitution ring in the process. (Not that I know what that is, mom).

As Mr. Pimp-daddy was showing us the units, we passed what I can only describe as what looked exactly like a "crack-whore" who meandered through the "secure" units with her pit-bull, evidently not storing or un-storing stuff. When we commented on this woman's dog, Mr. Pimp-daddy got extremely nervous for the remainder of our visit. He was actually shaking and he spoke about five times faster and ten times more than he had prior to our run-in with lady of the night. We saw a number of other suspicious characters and pieces of prostitution-consistent-evidence that prompted me to feel the unrelenting weight of my civic duties.

This led me to then wonder: who on earth am I supposed to tell this kind of stuff to?

In the fourth grade it was easy. Always just tell teacher and let him/her figure it out. Because Becky Hansen was a little too trigger happy with this one in Kindergarten, I was led out of the classroom by an angry Mrs. G. pinching the top of my ear almost every single day. This was back in the '80s when it was ok to publicly beat children.

But I don't remember anyone ever clarifying, in my adulthood, who to contact when you accidentally stumble into a multi-hundred . . . cent . . . prostitution ring just down the street.

911 is absolutely not an option for me anymore. I no longer have any credibility with those people. In fact, I am absolutely positive that if I call them one more time, they will start screening my calls.

I have probably called 911 fifty times this summer. Forty of those times were accidental. My phone has a VERY unhelpful feature that causes it to call for an emergency response team if stroked the right way.

Because Bob and Cathie very deeply ingrained within me at a very young age that calling 911 in any situation that did not culminate in the loss of life or limb is the greatest sin, each of these accidental calls has been traumatic for my psyche.

What typically happens is this: I hear from my pocket, "911, what's your emergency!?" I ALWAYS hang up immediately rather than just pick up the phone and tell them that the call was unintentional. If I had enough time to think, I would do this differently. But as it is, each time I just hang up and hope that they won't know who called and will go about their business. And guys, it's SO embarrassing when they find out it's me.

Because they ALWAYS call right back.

And then we have this conversation:


"Hi, this is 911 emergency. Did someone--"

"OH MY GOSH I'M SO SORRY I DIDN'T MEAN TO CALL YOU!!! Please don't be mad!!! My phone does this thing where it always calls--"

"Sir, are you telling me there isn't an emergency?"

"Well, no. Unless you consider how embarrassed I am that I accidentally called you an emergency!" (sideways winky-smiley face, but through the phone).


And the times I've meant to call always turn out not to be "emergencies" according to 911. I'm sorry that I'm the only one who thinks snake sightings should be reported! 

So I knew I couldn't call 911 about the prostitution ring. Instead I phoned-a-friend who works for the FBI.

Ruining my reputation, one government agency at a time.

Which leads me to my final point: do you know what's more stressful than moving? Moving while also fighting prostitution.

I'm basically like Batman. Except one who got a job in Palau.

~It Just Gets Stranger


  1. Good luck on the move! And I think it's good that people like you are willing to say something when you see something suspicious. I think one of the reasons a lot of places have so much crime is because too much of the population is apathetic or afraid to say anything when they see bad behavior. It starts out small and pretty soon society lets it all in.

  2. Can I just tell you how much I LOVE your blog? I do. I love it, and selfishly wish for you to always have insomnia just for the benifit of your selfish I know but I cant help myself!

  3. I also cannot help the fact I cannot spell dispite extensive reading on my part....its JUST NOT IN ME. I think I spelled dispite wrong...despite, dispite...ok I think I am covered.

  4. Every time I think I want to move the mere thought of packing will completely change my mind and I get over that thought really fast. I can't even clean a room without, needing a break from how stressful it is. Actually, this is too much thinking about it. I think I hear my kitchen calling now...

  5. Aren't you worried a little bit about your "stuff" that is stored in the prostitution ring neighborhood?

    1. Don't worry; I'm not keeping anything of value there. My Snuggies and cats will be going with me to Palau.

  6. Definitely take the slap bracelets. How else will you color-coordinate and accessorize every outfit?

    Also, I hate moving. I get to move a minimum of four times this coming year. :/

  7. did your (completely packed, I hope) roommate tell you to use the word crack-whore? he has an affinity for booze-whore, crack-whore, skank-whore, etc perhaps because he knows they are so disturblingly precise in identifying the underlying problem?

    1. My (hardly at all packed even though he said he would be before he left for New Mexico) roommate is responsible for most of the scandalous words I know.

    2. We were wondering where you were getting those words. Not like you!

  8. I just moved at the beginning of August, and you are right. It's pretty much the worst thing ever. One of my teenaged nephews was helping me and asked why all my boxes said "crap" on them- kitchen crap, bedroom crap, random crap. I'd venture to say 73% of my boxes were labeled "random crap".

  9. You know, I feel like I comment approximately every time you post ... but I just can't help myself. I always enjoy your posts so much that I hope if I give you enough positive reinforcement that you will keep writing them. Anyhow ... this one was brilliant as always. :)

    1. I am always thankful that you do comment. I've never been immune to positive reinforcement.

  10. My prediction for you is that, upon arriving in Palau, within a few days you will adopt a bushel of children, then proceed to bake them banana bread by the ton every other day, with Daniel acting as your "manny" (It's a real thing. I think). From there, it's really up to you. The world is your clam.
    As for the questionable neighborhood in which you choose to store your things, if you don't want your cats to be influenced by any...*ahem*...ladies of the evening, I could take a few for a while--I have a Rav4.

    1. If you could handle 2 dozen, that would be great.

    2. A manny is a real thing. Last year there was an entire 16 episode Korean drama called Manny. All about a manny, doing manny like things in a manny way.

      I may have watched it.

  11. Well shoot, I drive a Rav-4 as well. I had no idea that obligated me to offer to temporarily store peoples cats. Sorry everyone, I didn't know... Good luck in Palau!

    1. Well, thank The Lord I drive a CR-V. I am so busy with Mr. Butters, Cleocatra and June Bug the weenie dog, I don't think I could really be a GOOD mama to any more fur babies than I already have.

  12. while getting a pedicure yesterday, a person was in the next chair. I say person because he/she had high heeled lace up the ankle skank shoes, thighs of steel, huge patellas, feet that no manicure could correct. From the thighs up he/she had a t.i.g.h.t mini dress, gigantor (had to be beach balls) breasts, tons of make-up on his/her face, and a long, black wig. All the while a squeaky, syrupy, giggling voice. GAAAAAAAGGGGGGG.
    First thought: he or she?
    Second thought: I need to find a new pedicure salon.
    Third thought: I need to know whether a he or a she.
    Fourth thought: I asked...

  13. I had to move a couple of months ago. I tried to do it without boxing things up. I still have crap in my car.

  14. I've been packing for 3 days. It's not so much that I have many items. It's that I have a habit of moving at least once every year. This year I think the shock of it all is causing me serious avoidance issues. The cat was shipped off a couple of days ago... But that made me very happy! Unlike you, I do not like felines unless in the wild.

    Basically, I'm trying to say we are having EXACTLY the same moving/packing experience.

  15. Oh man, that emergency feature is so distressing on my phone too. I mean, it would be helpful if I was in a situation where my hands were tied behind my back and my phone serendipitously fell out of my purse right in front of me and I could only tap the screen with my nose or my big toe. But so far that has never happened. So far I mostly just find my phone in the hands of my four year old who is helpfully handing it to me saying, "Phone mama!" and as I take it from her and before I can get it to my ear I hear the dreaded words. "Can you hear me? What's the nature of your emergency?" And I bloody-well tell them the nature of my emergency is that cell phones can lock a four year old out of every feature EXCEPT calling 911. Because they don't even have to dial the actual numbers 9-1-1 to do it! Now how is *that* reasonable? Between that and, um, my other calls to the police, I'm with you. If I ever had a true crisis, pretty sure I'd be on my own...

  16. I would really like to hear your legitimate calls to 911.

  17. Ha! I have the same avoidance issues! Trying to get the kids organized for school yesterday led me to make a batch of homemade icecream, three dozen banana muffins, and peel and slice two dozen peaches to freeze. It's amazing what I can accomplish when there is something else I am trying to avoid!

  18. One time, I was in an amusement park on a roller coaster, and I apparently butt-dialed 911... on the roller coaster... I didn't realize this until after I got off and they called me back. It took me about 5 full minutes to understand what was going on. I can only imagine what they thought on the other end of the call, what with all of the muffled screaming.

  19. I just found your blog and I have laughed for a solid 30 minutes!

  20. Oh geez!! The No-Tell Motel?! That place is sooooooooo dirty I think even the prostitutes might be afraid of it. Funny Tucson reference.
    When were you there, in Tucson?