No Blaise: Internet Interrupted

All right, I’ll just come out and say it: We don’t have cable or internet at our apartment.

We actually haven’t had cable for awhile, because our television didn’t make the switch to digital, so it was pointless to have cable with no TV to watch it on.

But having no internet, that’s a completely different demon.

Katie cancelled it when she moved out a few weeks ago, and we have yet to get motivated to call and start it up again.

So, we’ve had to find other ways to spend our nights at home.

I finally got around to framing a poster I bought about four months ago, and even hung it up on the wall. I also re-hung a painting that had fallen down so long ago I don’t even remember when it happened.

Hannah and I have also begun to make videos on our iPhones out of boredom. Well, she has taken the route of filming videos of herself doing or saying random, and usually strange, things and then sending them to one of our lucky friends. I have in turn started filming all the weird shit Hannah does, and it is some seriously hilarious footage.

When we peel ourselves away from our phones, there’s always the good ‘ol dvd player on our faithful TV.

Unfortunately, we lost the remote to our pre-historic television. So, even when we do settle in to watch a movie, there’s nice blaring “VIDEO 3” in bright green on the upper right hand corner of the screen.

Now that I think of it, “VIDEO 3” might be there whether or not we had the remote, but I need somewhere to channel my annoyance at it, so I choose to direct it towards the lost remote.

The fact that you’re even reading this blog at all means I’ve found a signal somewhere. For my blog last Sunday, my laziness defeated me and rather than going out to some internet café in my neighborhood, I decided to just type the blog up on my iPhone.

This would’ve been pretty painless, except that for some reason my phone decided to autocorrect every other word into some nonsensical language.

Internet, please come back, I’ll never take you for granted again!

No Blaise: Bike Re-route

The latest news in No Blaise world is that Ted broke up with me.

Womp.

In other news, I got a bike!

I know these two facts may seem terribly disjointed, but I have a point, I promise…

My new bike meant I needed a lock, living in the city and all. Said lock was at my parents house, so I decided to bike over and get it.

I decide to stop at my apartment in between bike store and grabbing the lock, to change into more bike riding appropriate clothing..whatever that may be. Accordimg to me, it’s a random sweatshirt and red leggings.

Once I start on my way to my parents, I realize my usual route to their house takes me right past Teds apartment. As good as I look in a sweatshirt and red leggings, I decide it’s probably better for everyone if I take a different way. The only one I can think of off the top of my helmet (heh bike humor) takes me through the belly of Bucktown/Wicker Park and is the traffic jam I was looking to avoid with my original route.

Im going down Milwaukee Ave, and I pass a man biking very slowly, wearing lots of reflective gear.

His outfit mixed with the fact that he was going at a speed even my slow ass passed him at, allows be to dub him as “probably crazy”.

Riding past him takes me back to a childhood memory of my mom yelling at me for riding quickly past my sister on my scooter and screaming “eat my dust!” at her continually.

Anyway…

So I arrive at the intersection where I need to make my turn, as I’m waiting for the light to turn green who rides up next to me, but crazy reflective slow poke himself.

Maybe my passing him inspired him to pick up speed. Either way, he of course decides to strike up a conversation with me about how cold my ankles must be. They’re not, but I awkwardly laugh and say “yeah they’re real cold…it sure is cold outside” because I’m terrified of what disagreeing with him will do. Then he starts in about how he’s wearing hiking boots cause its so cold, etc etc. I’m nodding, when he goes “hey, you look like you’re going to the gym..”

“haha, nope, going home actually..”

Just as he’s about to find someway to transition into another conversation, the light changes and I speed off.

When I get to my parents, I tell my dad about my dilemma of having to redirect my usual way of getting there as to avoid Teds place. To this my dad simply replies, “I guess you’re gonna have to find a new route!”

Well, thats for sure!

No Blaise: Climate Change

Global warming is bad, for a lot of reasons. I could get into how the earth is melting, polar bears are losing their homes, insane weather is becoming a menace to the entire world…

BUT! I’ll save that for a more morbid occasion. Today I’ll keep my critique of this international emergency to how it effects me everyday: what the fuck am I supposed to wear!?

It goes from freezing, to ridiculously windy, to pretty cold, to not that cold, to strangely warm, and then back to cold as fuck all in the span of a week.

Just because it’s cold in the morning, doesn’t mean it’s gonna be cold in the afternoon. And, just because it’s warm in the afternoon, doesn’t mean it won’t be cold as shit in the evening.

More importantly, none of these temperatures matter if there are gonna be tornado-like winds rushing through the city.

Of course Monday of this week is the day I decide I should wear a dress to work. I don’t know why my short walk to the train, where I literally almost got barreled over, didn’t signal to me that I should turn around and put on a fucking pair of pants. Instead, I got off the train and walked to work gripping my coat and dress tightly to my body as to not provide a peep show to the morning commuters.

Sure, you’re probably reading this now and going “just wear layers, duh” and you’re right. I could just wear a t-shirt, then a sweater, then a coat, and peel away each item as I get hot, and put them on 20 minutes later when I get cold again.

The problem with bundling is that once you get on the CTA, if you’re not only wearing a tank-top (pants optional) you’re going to be sweating your ass off. That cute sweater that contrasts your brown boots so well is about to be a few shades darker after you drench it in the sweat of your morning train ride.

No worries though, your freezing cold walk from the CTA to work will dry you off and your clothes will be as they were when you walked out the door that morning.

You, however, will feel like you’ve been through the diagnosis and recovery of a horrible bout of pneumonia.

No Blaise: Airport Anxiety

Within the last month I’ve taken two trips that require airplane rides. First to Jamaica with my family, and then to New York last weekend with my friends.

Just call me a world traveler!

Kind of.

Anyways, the destinations were amazing. It was the getting there that stressed me out.

On the flight to Jamaica, my dad took care of all the tickets, checking into the flight, etc.. Which is a good thing, because we had to go through customs and I don’t know how well I’d do trying to make it through all those hoops on my own.

Here’s why..

I turn pretty much any time I have to go to the airport into an espionage movie mixed with a drug bust.

My flight to New York was the first time I’ve been in charge of my own plane ride, which meant I had to check myself in.

I got an email the night before the flight telling me to check in, so I did.

Then I got an email telling me about the airlines app for my iphone. So I downloaded it, and checked into my flight. Again.

Then to be sure I didn’t cancel out my first check in when I checked in a second time, I logged onto the airlines website on my computer and checked in a third time.

Better safe than sorry!

Prepping for any airport trip means that I check through my bags to make sure I’m not bringing anything illegal according to airport standards.

Then I check them again.

Then again.

But, regardless of how many times I check them I still spend the entire time I’m in line for security convinced they’re going to find something somewhere on me and I’m going to immediately be arrested.

“I’m sorry I brought liquid that’s over 3 ounces! I swear I’m not going to build a bomb! Please don’t take me away!”

No Blaise: No Blaise Goes West, Part 3

Last we saw her, No Blaise had woken up to an empty room, almost sure the two crazy people she’d been traveling with had deserted her in Colorado…

Once I wrap my head fully around the concept that these two mother fuckers are indeed NOT in the hotel room, I reach for my cell phone and dial M. His phone goes straight to voicemail; of course it’s dead. So I try L. Hers rings, and rings, and rings… no answer.

So, I continue calling, to no avail, and officially resign myself to the idea that I have been left behind.

I begin to formulate how to get back to Iowa City, when my phone rings. It’s L! I never thought I’d ever be excited to see her name pop up on my phone. I answer immediately and she explains that they’ve been out driving around all night, taking in all the sights.

Good for you, now get your ass back to the hotel so we can get the fuck out of here!

Another detail to this story is that I’m trying to get back to Iowa City for a concert happening this night, at around 8pm.Which would mean we need to have left Colorado like…2 hours ago.

M & L stumble in about 15 minutes later and I pretty much just shuffle them right back out the door.

I’ve gotten the directions and everything, and am ready to hit the road. M decides that he needs to drive, even though he’s literally gotten no sleep and, even with sleep, I don’t trust him behind the wheel. But, it’s his car so I pretty much have to let him.

We are never getting back to Iowa City.

M has decided that we cannot leave Colorado without breakfast. So he forces us to stop at a restaurant to sit down and eat. My sanity being the minority in this group means I pretty much have to follow along with whatever tweedle dee and tweedle dum decide for this trip.

This much be what hell is like.

Once I finally convince them to leave the table and get back on the road, they now decide they have to show me some mountains they saw, and want to take a drive through a national park to do so. I insist that I do not give a fuck about seeing any fucking mountains and just want to get the fuck home, but they can’t hear me and so about ten minutes later we’re driving up a trail that I’m not even 100% was made for cars.

Get me outta here!!!!

Then M stops the car, and I pray it’s because he’s decided to reverse and get us out of here.

No such luck.

Instead, he decides he wants to wash himself in the stream that is flowing through the park.

No, I’m not kidding.

When he gets back to the car I insist we seriously get out of this god-forsaken park and go home. Finally, he gets my sense of urgency, or he himself was also ready to head back, either way we’re finally on our way out of the park and onto the highway.

Hallelujah!

M is still driving, I notice beer cans beneath my feet in the passenger seat, so I ask him if I can drive. When he protests I tell him he can’t be drinking and driving. He responds, “I was drinking earlier, and now I’m driving, it’s totally different.”

No, it isn’t. My terror level increases an even greater amount, and I am now at risk for a full-blown heart attack.

I think I might actually have one when I look behind us and see flashing lights. We are getting pulled over.

We are done for. Beer cans on the floor, crazy people behind the wheel, car full of random shit. The officer comes to the window and lets M know that he was going 110 miles per hour.

I am preparing myself for sleeping on the floor of a jail cell as M talks to the cop and gets the ticket written for him. It’s when I hear the officer say, “Have a safe rest of your trip,” that I snap to.

Say what? No handcuffs? No jail? We can keep going?

M pulls off, possibly going faster than before, and I plead with him to let me drive.

He still says no. So, I continue to stare blankly ahead. A few hours later M pulls over because I want to get in the back seat so I can attempt sleep. When L gets in the front seat, she and M decide to put down the roof again and I am back to getting my ass whooped by the wind.

I really must’ve done something bad in a past life.

I hide under a blanket and manage to sleep for awhile, and when I wake up it’s dark outside. I look to the drivers seat, why the fuck is M still driving!? This man has been awake for way too long. I tap his shoulder and he jolts up. He lets me know that he thinks he’s been sleeping for a little while.

How comforting.

He finally lets me get behind the wheel as he gets into the back seat to sleep somewhere other than behind the wheel.

I look at the clock and realize we would need a time machine in order to get to Iowa City in order to catch the show. I put the pedal to the metal anyway, and we’re back home about an hour later.

I immediately drive to the bar all of my friends are at.

Somebody get me a drink!

No Blaise: No Blaise Goes West Part Two

When last seen, No Blaise was driving in a convertible, top down, with two drunken lunatics named M + L, on their way from Iowa to New Mexico to rescue a dog. Then the car broke down in the-middle-of-nowhere, Colorado….

So, there we are. Sitting in pretty much complete darkness, with the top down, in the middle of nowhere Colorado. I have officially lost all sense of stability.

I decide it would probably be best for me to just try and sleep until the AAA man shows up. Then I remember my falling asleep is what got us into this mess, and decide to just stare into the blackness that surrounds us instead.

Come on AAA dude, where you at…

My attempt at mentally summoning the AAA man didn’t work, but instead summoned something else. A farm dog, that was so large it might actually be part horse.

Damnit!

As you may have gathered by now, M + L have absolutely no logistical reasoning skills, and certainly zero concern for safety, so invite the gigantic dog to just jump right into the car.

Of course, rather than sitting on top of either M or L’s lap, he goes directly for me and plops right down, covering my body almost completely.

Are we relaxing yet!?

A little while later, I hear a car pull up next to us. Since my vision is blocked by the massive dog, who hasn’t moved an inch since he sat down, I can only assume this is the AAA man coming to save us. From what I can hear, though, it seems the person who has come to save the day isn’t the AAA man, but a teenager who says he’s got gas at his house a few minutes away, and he’ll be right back. The icing on the cake is that he knows the dogs name and is able to coax it off of me, since M + L showed no interest in helping me out.

I take a deep breath of non-dog smelling air and feel slight relief that we’ve found a way to get out of here. Until I realize I have no idea where we’re staying tonight. Originally, M promised he had friends we’d be staying with in Colorado. At this point in the trip, I realize pretty much everything he’s said, and probably will ever say, is bullshit. So, I call my dad.

“You’re WHERE?”

“In Colorado…”

“How the, what the..”

“I know. And I don’t have the mental energy to explain everything right now. But, do you think you could book me a hotel room so I can sleep somewhere tonight?”

“Nora, what the hell was your plan?”

I definitely don’t have a good answer to this, and just convince him that I’ll explain once I’m home. By some trick of fate, he decides to take pity on me and gets me a hotel room in Boulder, Colorado.

Hello, Dad of the Year..

We arrive at the hotel, and I begin to remember what reality looks like. Just as I’m about to get in the shower M + L let me know that they’re going out on the town. I remind them that we plan to leave at 7:30am. They assure me they’ll be back, and for whatever reason I believe them.

Getting out of the shower and into bed, I set my alarm for 7am because I’m sure it’ll take me at least half an hour to get the two vagabonds awake.

As soon as my head hits the pillow, I’m out until my alarm start beeping at 7am. Once I open my eyes, it takes me a few minutes to remember where I am. Once I do, I look around and realize that I’m the only one in the room.

Oh god.

First thought, where are they?

Second thought, oh my god those reckless freaks left without me!

Stay tuned for part 3…

No Blaise: Jamaican Massage

This past week I was in Jamaica with my family.

No big deal…

Most of my time there was spent laying on the beach or on a raft in the water. Yes, it was awesome.

On the first day my mom got a massage from a woman in a hut on the beach, and came back from it claiming it was the best she’s ever had. Then she asked me if I wanted one.

Uhhh, YEAH!

So, my mom hands me a $20 and tells me to let the lady know I have $20 and to give me a massage for whatever amount of time that gives me.

Not the most conventional exchange.

I should now mention that I’m in my swimsuit, and when I laid down on the table, face down, the masseuse unties my bikini top so my back is fully exposed.

Ok, pretty normal massage behavior.

Then she starts rubbing this aloe vera lotion all over me.

Very normal massage behavior.

Then she starts moving to my lower back. Then my lower lower back. Then….she rolls down the top of my swimsuit bottoms and starts massaging the top of my butt.

Okkkkk….

Then she stops that, and moves back to the rest of my back. I’m starting to relax again when she moves to my legs. Very nice.

Then she’s at the top of my legs and starts working her hands over the lower part of my butt.

Maybe they pay more attention to butts in Jamaica.

Then she moves from my legs to my back again, probably going for the big massage finish. She is moving her hands all around my back, upper, middle, lower, lower lower….

Now she has really done it, she is rolling my bottoms down even more. Butt is almost fully exposed. Oh my god.

Well, apparently her big finish was giving my ass a good rub.

Well played, Jamaica.