Wait, it gets worse!

The misadventures and adventures of two roommates living in a pre-war apartment in Inwood. We write in third person so we don't confuse anyone.

[waititgetsworse-blog]

"If you think you've had a bad date, remember, it can always get worse."

-Amy Pohler on what lessons she's learned from Leslie Knope.  New York Magazine.

[waititgetsworse-blog]

R. showed T. this incredibly terrifying (and pretty hilarious) website of bridal gowns inspired by Disney princesses.  You have to check it out and watch the video.

[waititgetsworse-blog]

Today R. and T. made ultramoist double-chocolate brownies and coffee ice cream. Life is amazing. (This is the photo of the unsweetened chocolate and butter beginning to melt in the double boiler.)

[waititgetsworse-blog]

Recent BBM conversations

R. got a Blackberry this week and our BBM conversations have been out of control.

First off, we don't have the whole conversation saved, but R. and T. were talking about how R's university's cafe was just shut down for 79 healthcode violations.  T's friend worked in a cafe and says she was told by a health inspector that 4 pieces of rat feces found in a restaurant is okay but 5 gets you a health-code violation.  R. messaged T. to say:

R: 'I mean, I expect rats to be in every restaurant, so I just pretend they're all like the rats from Ratatouille.'

To which T. laughed out loud.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

So T. subscribes to Bust magazine and the latest issue is the food issue.  There's a recipe for banana split whoopie pies.  It calls for a cup of marshmallow fluff.  T. went to the supermarket at 11pm on Thursday after class to buy ingredients.  She's trying to buy things on a budget and noticed that 8oz of Fluff cost $1.99 and 16oz of Fluff cost $2.19, so she obviously bought the bigger one.  She never put it away after unpacking it on the coffee table to show R. 

Fast-forward to today at 11:18am and this is what R. awoke to, when at a friend's house, still a little drunk from last night:

T: I left our place this morning with marshmallow fluff on my chin.  I think I have a problem.

R:hahahahahahaha futurebaddecisions.com

T:Yes, a tablespoon of marshmallow fluff for breakfast is a super bad idea.  At least I realized before I locked the apartment door on my way to the Greenmarket!

R: Did you remember the compost?

T: Yes, heading there now!! Except I may have left one more bag of compost in the freezer, but everything else (including the dying tulips), I have with me.

R: I bet there's so much room in the freezer for ice cream now!!

T: A little bit. :)

R: All I want to do is lay on the couch and eat ice cream all day.

T: Good, because I'm making brownies.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

T: OMG skinny jeans and crocs??? FBD!

R: hahaha, are we abbreviating that now?  It's perfect.  Or as Lynn and I say, 'NAGL', Not A Good Look.

*FBD is short for FutureBadDecisions, in case you didn't get that.

[waititgetsworse-blog]

Clown Car Euphemism?

So R. got home after supporting her friend's trial run as a bartender to find T. hanging out on the couch watching Rachel Maddow.  Secretly, T. was waiting for R . to get home so they could raid the homemade strawberry chocolate chip ice cream together.

R. suggested they watch the two latest podcast episodes of 'Vows' and eat'' ice cream, T. was all for it, especially when they agreed to just eat it out of the tupperware container with spoons and not have to do dishes later. 

After Vows and a little giggling about Purim and OkCupid profiles, R. said:

'Speaking of clown cars...'

To which T. said 'Wait, are we talking about clown cars or vaginas?'

So here's the backstory...

Our Inwood Hermit friend Adam tweeted the photo below yesterday, which was great because R. and T. had just watched '19 Kids and Counting' (maybe 20, we're not really sure) the night before.

So then R. and T. are in a giggling fit and then R, through giggles, says 'Did you know your vagina is also a suitcase and wallet??'

And then showed me this hilarious line from The Hairpin:

'While people with penises may be interested in how their region measures up, I'm equally excited to learn that my vagina has a suitcase/wallet feature I haven't been using.'

Hilarity ensued.

[waititgetsworse-blog]

Bunny Eggs

So T. bought the worst old lady Easter candy today. It tastes like a giant jelly bean filled with "marshmallow" gone wrong in every possible way you think it would. She convinced R. to try one but she could only eat half of it.

5 minutes later...

R: I couldn't even finish the whole thing.

T: We've reached a new low.

R: Why? Because I couldn't finish eating candy and we know that never happens?

T: No! Because I thought you left the other half on the couch for safekeeping.

Moral of the story: Don't buy this candy.

[waititgetsworse-blog]

Spoiler. (The Punchline is...)

...T got home in one piece.  She's alive.  More later, we promise.

[waititgetsworse-blog]

Can someone please explain what is going on? Also where would one adopt a dog with a bowtie? Do they make cat bowties?

So many questions!

[waititgetsworse-blog]

Current Bad Decisions Club

T: "Wait what were we going to blog about?"

R: "You are going to join the 'future bad decisions club!"

T: "Oh! Right!"

So...T. is rejoining the world of internet dating after a bit of a hiatus.  And has found a 'gem' according to R.  Something about possibly being murdered on Tuesday.

To be continued...

[waititgetsworse-blog]

T. saw these hooks at Anthropologie and decided to buy them for the apartment so we'd have somewhere to hang our coats when we enter our apartment so we don't end up tossing them on the couch or rocking chair. Super excited!

[waititgetsworse-blog]

R: 'There's an app to put wigs on cats!' T: 'Wait, what?' R: 'You can take a picture of a cat and then choose a wig to put on your cat with this app my friend has!' T: 'Whoa! Crazy!'

(Two days later, after much pondering...)

T: 'Hey, R...?  Are you sure the wig app is a cat wig app and not just a wig app in general?' R: 'Well, my friend said it's an app for wigs on cats, I'll show you his cat's Facebook page!" T: 'Okay, but Google it, because I'm still not so sure it's an app for wigs on cats, specifically.' (hands R. her laptop.) R: (Typing)  'Yup! Kitty Wigs App!  There's even a book!  We could get it for Psyche!' T: 'Ohmygod!  haha!  That's kind of amazing.'

*T. would like to point out that in the last 24 hours, R. has taught her about Paula Deen Riding Things and Kitty Wigs. What's next??

**Photo of Prudence NomNom, courtesy of Prudence's human companion.

[waititgetsworse-blog]

Lessons from NYT Vows

So T. had a boyfriend last year who had a dirty secret he didn't tell her until months in.  One evening, while in bed, he pulled out his laptop and showed her his guilty pleasure, the New York Times has a wedding vow video podcast that's been going on for a few years now.  These are not the couples from the wedding pages.  We're still not exactly sure how these couples are picked or could be any way affiliated with the New York Times.  T. thought these webisodes were super cheesy and kind of hilarious.  One night, while chatting with R. about how ridiculously hilarious some of the guys she's dated in the past were, she mentioned the Vows.  In order to get the picture, you must watch a few for yourself. T. downloaded a few for R. to watch and they immediately got hooked.  In the last 6 weeks, T & R have been making mental notes of what to and not to do in order to find a mate and end up on the NYT Vows podcast. 

Below are a few lists of things we have learned:

Girls:

Buy a white knit hat, a black one will do if you're an artist.

Go to a foreign country with your brand new boyfriend.

Get incredibly sick, bonus points if you vomit or 'mess' yourself.

Be demanding, make sure he gets down on one knee or the proposal isn't real.

Have a say in the ring you're getting.

Don't forget to give a response to the proposal, instead of just laughing or crying.

Girls, open your eyes, the guy you're hanging out with is the one.

For either sex:

Be really terrible at singing, but think you're awesome.

Play Scrabble or do crossword puzzles.

Like coffee and/or wine.

Know within the first date whether or not you plan to marry this person, bonus if within the first hour.

Your first date should last at least five hours, but it should never feel that long.

Move in together within months.

Go on blind dates with people your family or friends set you up with.

Guys:

Make sure you are on one knee if you propose, otherwise the girl will think it's a joke.

As soon as you get on one knee, nothing you say will be heard, so don't worry too much about it.

Make a book of photos of your relationship and end it with a proposal page.

We may go back and add more later.  Also, it should be said that we don't necessarily agree with the lists above, these are merely things we've learned from watching over 100 webisodes. 

DISCLAIMER: These tips may help you get married, but there is no evidence they will help you stay married.  They may get you on the Vows, though. 

If these tips work for you, and you end up on Vows, please give us a shout-out!

[cuteboyswithcats]

[waititgetsworse-blog]

Today T. got an e-mail from R:

'So I may be going crazy but I am pretty sure you got matched with this guy on OkC and we made fun of him and now he is on cuteboyswithcats!'

To which T. responded:

R.,

O...M...F...G...!! Haha! Damn! I missed my chance to say 'I dated him pre-cuteboyswithcats fame!' 

Imagine the *'NYT Vows' podcast episode!  Sigh.  And I've got a *rare skin condition and everything! Womp/womp!

<3 -T.

*These are all things we will explain in future posts, promise!

cuteboyswithcats:

my friend joel and his giant cat esther… check out her awesome bow-tie!

submitted by kelly

this is… too much

[waititgetsworse-blog]

Because obviously #pauseforllcoolj

[waititgetsworse-blog]

Genius!

R. fixed out avatar tonight!  Clearly our poltergeist is out for the evening and has more of a social life than either of us.

<3

[waititgetsworse-blog]

The saga continued...

So the day after the steam explosion, we spent the morning trying to find a non-emergency number for the Fire Department so we could have someone assess the damages to our apartment.  After being referred to and calling something like twelve different phone numbers, including the firemen benefit hotline (which apparently someone thought R. needed to talk to), we were put in touch with a non-emergency number in the Bronx.  Repeatedly telling the person on the phone that it wasn’t an emergency and that we only needed someone to come assess the damage, we were told someone would be right over.  No more than 3 minutes later, two firetrucks show up and some guys are banging on our door and screaming “Fire department! !HOLA!”  Yup, they dispatched the firefighters as if it were an emergency.  It was also six degrees outside, so they were more than thrilled to be completely bundled up and carrying all of their equipment, including axes and crowbars up the three flights of stairs to our walk-up apartment.  They quickly realized that there was no emergency.  As they stood around in our apartment hallway, silently judging us for the way we were living, they asked if we were college students (we are not) and mentioned that our apartment smelled like waffles.  “Hey, it smells like waffles in here.”  To which T. replied “You should have smelled it before we made the waffles!”  Which, to be fair, it smelled pretty awful.  We learned the hard way that our radiators use non-potable water, which smells FANTASTIC. No, not really.

The only really good thing about the fire department showing up was that the Super’s nephew freaked out and called the Super who finally appeared with a maintenance goon from our management company.  They decided to blame us for opening the valve, which we definitely hadn’t, it was closed tight.  Then they said the Porter would do the repairs.  All the while, the goon was telling us to lie on our renter’s insurance while picking apart the melted keys on R’s very sad Mac Book Pro.  The goon also told R. that she reminded him of his daughter and then pulled out his phone and showed her a photo of a very trashy-looking teenager with blonde hair.

So then they turned off the boiler (we’re assuming to test it), which meant we were stuck with the windows open to air out the steam stench and no heat.  We pulled out giant bath towels and blankets for the couch and were lucky enough for one neighbor to give us an air purifier and another to lend us her space heater.

The week of us sitting on the couch, eating candy and watching daytime television began in earnest, while waiting for the 70-something year old Porter to come repair the apartment.  There was much waffle-making in the mornings and s’more making in the evenings until we ate two entire bags of marshmallows (please don’t tell anyone).  

But wait, it gets worse!

A massive snowstorm occurred and because the Porter is hired to do everything, he had to salt and shovel the sidewalks, leaving no time for our repairs.  It also made for quite the frigid time at home, with the windows still open.  That stench was AWFUL.

The porter finally arrived nearly a week later and did the most slap-shot job scraping and replastering that T. (very nicely) demanded he redo it the next day.  In the meantime, T. pulled out a giant jar of spackle and R. and T. got to work re-scraping, filling, sanding and painting the walls.  The ceiling was where the most damage was and neither of us had experience working on ceilings.  So the Porter came back the second time and the plaster wasn’t dry yet, so he said we needed to wait two days until the plaster dried and then was a no-show that day.  He finally arrived four days later and re-plastered and immediately painted over the wet plaster.  Total disaster!  There were then bubbles and peeling paint all across the ceiling. Oh, and he left his mop (?) and a giant plaster bucket in R’s room, and he also dripped paint and plaster all over the hardwood floor.  We were lucky enough to not trust him with dropcloths and covered R’s bed and furniture.

T. called the Super to complain but he didn’t respond.  So she finally ran into him on her way to work and complained.  The Super said the Porter was on vacation and he wasn’t sure who he could send to fix the ceiling for the third time.

So guess who he sends? His 19 year old nephew!  The kid is super nice and respectful but has never done any plaster/paint repairs before in his life.  Because the Super is constantly MIA, he asked the Super from the building next door for tips and took his sweet time painstakingly filling each crack.  Somehow, even though he was a complete novice, he still did a better job than the Porter who’s apparently been doing this forever.  The Super’s Nephew said everyone in the building is complaining about the shoddy workmanship the Porter’s been doing as of recent.

Sooooo, it’s finally done! Almost a month later, and R. was finally able to move things back into her bedroom and start sleeping in her own bed instead of the couch. Hooray!  R. actually said “wow, it’s like we have a real livingroom!”  T. had forgotten how much space we had.

[waititgetsworse-blog]

Our crooked avatar...

R. wants me to make a note that our avatar in your dashboard continues to be rotated clockwise and it's likely because of the poltergeist that's followed her into our home.