Do as I say, not as I do

Today’s beverage: coffee….it is not even 7am people. Calm down.

Why am I up so early, you ask? Well my dumb ass agrees to run with a friend every Friday at 5:30am, so I am now firmly in the post run bunny snuggles part of my day. Well, I’m trying to snuggle. The bunny is licking all the dried sweat off my neck and face.

And speaking of bunnies, I have news on the whole growing up and buying a house thing. The boyfriend and I have officially done our first house tour. It won’t be the house for us, but that is not the point.

No, the point is that a good test of whether our realtor was right for us or not (she is; she’s great) was her being understanding of my requirements for Elephant.

As I surveyed the living room and dining room area of the house, I noted that it would be perfect for Elephant because with two area rugs and a runner, she would have unfettered access to two whole rooms!

And that was literally like my only comment about that area of the house. Because when one is considering making the biggest purchase of one’s life, one must consider the smallest critter involved.

But the whole thing got me thinking, and I’d like to take an opportunity to introduce you to Elephant and explain how we’ve gotten to this point where I’m making major life decisions based on an overweight lagomorph.

That’s right. Rabbits aren’t rodents; they are lagomorphs. Take that, MOM!

(Just kidding, love you momma bear)

Back to the task at hand.

I got Elephant for all of the reasons you should not buy a pet, specifically a rabbit, but mostly anything other than a goldfish or a tamagotchi.

Hence…do as I say, not as I do

Reasons I bought Elephant

1. My mom said no. I’ve always wanted a rabbit. We had dogs, cats, fish, and a short-lived and poorly ending journey with frogs, but rodents are not allowed in the house. (See point above. *harrumph*)

2. I was replacing a boy. Literally one month after moving in with my boyfriend at the time, he took a job 4 hours away and moved out. This relationship had more red flags than a sporting match between Switzerland and China, so I really should not have been surprised. But anyway, we had just rented a 2 bedroom apartment, and yet I slept on the couch with a coffee table blocking the door shut every night, and I kept an old night stick next to my bed. (This is an improvement from the steak knife under my pillow. You could say I’m a bit of a scaredy cat.)

3. I was poor and busy. I couldn’t get a dog because they weren’t allowed and also I couldn’t afford one. And I’m allergic to cats. Plus I’m just like generally not really a fan…except for maybe 6 cats. Their owners know who they are.

4. She was on sale! All the bunnies in the pet store were $50. Elephant was only $15 because she was a baby bunny that someone dropped off with a note at the owner’s door.

So I took my Harry Potter discount rabbit and home we went. She peed on me in the car.

Immediately upon putting her on the kitchen floor, I felt I made a terrible mistake. Watching her slide across the floor using her front paws, I thought to myself, “Fuck I bought a paralyzed rabbit! What am I going to do?!”

Spoiler- she is not paralyzed, she just cannot navigate hard floors. Thank the almighty Dwayne the Rock Johnson for wall to wall carpeting.

Our relationship was not love at first sight. For about 3 months, the only way I could get her to come near me was if I played dead on the floor. After about an hour of no movement, she would hop over, smell me, bite me, and take off.

Fast forward to today, where as I said, she’s literally licking sweat off my body while I write this.

Now despite my irresponsible beginnings in the world of pet ownership, I like to think I did a pretty good job. Elephant is litter trained, and as a result, she is now allowed out of her house full time. Her house doesn’t even have a door.

That being said, I’ve definitely learned some valuable lessons in the process of owning a free range rabbit. She may be litter trained, but the training ends there.

1. I should have invested stock in iPhone chargers (I have no friggin clue if that is properly worded, I don’t know money things.) She has a 6th sense for them, and they must be destroyed. I replace phone chargers more than I replace eggs in my refrigerator.

2. Baseboards are apparently delicious

3. Rabbits can and will eat your couch

4. If you trip over them, they do not accept your apology.

5. Be careful bringing dogs in the house. Because the rabbit will attack them…and occasionally hump them.

6. Beware of hysterical pregnancies and check under your pillow for nests. Excuse me while I go vomit from this memory.

7. If you don’t want a food bowl chucked across the room, especially at night, keep the bowl full

Having Elephant around has been a treasure. Some say that dogs are a good judge of character? Please, Littlefoot is a trifling ho and will love anyone that looks at her. But Elephant? If you can pick her up without getting mauled, then you get to stay.

Also, according to the internet, she died like 3 years ago. The lifespan of an unspayed rabbit is 3-4 years and Elephant is going strong coming up on year 7. I guess this makes her a zombie bunny.

Actually, she reminds me more of a drop bear than anything else. She’s a drop bunny!!

This is the point in the conversation where you look up drop bears if you don’t know what they are. Go ahead, I’ll wait.

Also, listen to Bob Barker and get your pets spayed or neutered. I was a poor grad student.

Do as I say, not as I do.

Moral of the story, did I think that when I bought Elephant all those years ago that she would be such a big factor in the home buying process?

Trick question! Obviously. And if you feel otherwise, you shouldn’t own a pet. You monster.

Now get ready for some word magic, as I find away to tie this blog post to my general theme of navigating a quarter life crisis.

*rolls shoulders back, strikes a power pose*

Learn from my mistakes and lessons so that you can avoid some of the troubles I have faced.

There, that should do it. Tied up and packaged like a nice Christmas present.

Yeah I know, it’s a stretch, but I got up at 4:30 this morning so I don’t want to hear it.

So until next time…I guess I need a closing catchphrase, but that’s a hurdle for another beer.

LET THE GAME$ BEGIN

Today’s-ish beverage: Michelob Ultra Infusions: lime & prickly pear cactus

I have to say, the seltzers are way better, but the calories are still low, and I have a beach vacay coming up in May.

Either way, that’s what I was drinking when I started this post 2 days ago. Now I’m actually just drinking iced coffee, because my body runs almost exclusively on caffeine. I’m not even sure what being properly hydrated feels like. I’d probably get fewer headaches, but I just like to think of those as one of life’s little quirks.

Well folks, I did it. I arm wrestled a bear.

No. I submitted my first pitches for freelance writing gigs. My hat is in the ring. I have entered the gauntlet. I put some skin in the game. I have tapped out on that analogy.

I did arm wrestle my friend last night though. She destroyed me. She’s not a bear, but she does cross fit, and she’s very strong. There’s a reason I’m the only one on our Tough Mudder team that can’t cross the Funky Monkey. These guns are for display purposes only.

*kisses each “bicep”*

Shout out to Overall Obstacles. Returning to a Tough Mudder near you (if you live outside of Boston) June 2021

I also officially received my first, and likely not last, rejection. I’m not sure why I’m telling you this part. I could lie and say I was wildly successful right out of the gate, and you should all bow down to my excellence. Kiss the ring!

But as the kids say these days, honesty is the best policy. And don’t part your hair on the side. And don’t wear skinny jeans.

Jokes on you Gen-Z, I usually just wear sweatpants. And I look terrible with a center part so I guess I wasn’t destined to fit in with the youths. That’s fine. I just want to do jigsaw puzzles and paint by number on my phone all day anyway.

Back to writing pitches.

It honestly wasn’t as scary as I anticipated. I’m not sure why I procrastinated so long. Oh wait, yes I do, it’s just part of my charming nature aka my anxiety disorder. It’s cuter if you call it charm. Kind of like saying a house is charming when what you really mean is it’s smaller than your car and hasn’t been updated since it was cool to put carpet in the bathroom.

Maybe it’s because I’m used to professional rejection. Sometimes it feels like it doesn’t make a difference whether I send my resume to the employer or just use it to line Elephant’s litter box.

Side note: I have done that many times. It’s called being economical and eco-friendly.

Saving trees one failure at a time.

I once went through a series of job interviews where the interviewer informed me that I was almost the top choice, but there was just one person with better qualifications.

Always the bridesmaid, never employed I guess.

*hair flip*

I’m sorry, but what makes you think I’m going to feel better if I know that I barely missed out? Just tell me no and move on.

One of the best parts of pitching for these freelance gigs is that I don’t have to do the usual job interviews.

I hate job interviews. I’m sure that’s how most people feel, unless you’re some sort of masochist. To each their own! Whatever floats your giant, Instagramable unicorn raft.

Ohhh to reminisce on my old job searches…

There was the time I interviewed for an internship and the interviewer asked me what I weighed. And then, they had the balls to tell me that I’m not that small, compared to a figure skater. I mean ok, oddly specific and inappropriate, but you do you, boo boo.

There was the interview I did with a minor concussion because I fell on ice the night before. That was fun. I also couldn’t turn my head at all.

There was this interview:

“How comfortable are you with informatics?”

Me: “I don’t know what that is.”

“….Ma’am this internship is called ‘informatics in public health.’”

That ones on me, but in my defense I had found an internship already and had one foot out the door.

By the way, public health informatics is the process of using data systems and technology to shape public health practice. See? I would have been fine.

And then there are those interviews where you know the interviewer very well and you have to ask and answer questions like you’ve never seen them before in your life. As someone who spends most of their waking hours being nervous and awkward, this is a friggin nightmare!

In summary, the idea of sending someone a writing sample and they just tell me yes or no is pretty relaxing.

I just need some people to say yes. I need the money! I have mouths to feed! Specifically, Elephant. If you’ve ever been bit by a rabbit, you can understand why I focus all of my efforts and resources on not pissing her off. The trick is to drop the treats from about waist level so she can’t rip them out of your hands.

In hindsight, maybe BrigidandaBeverage, while an excellent name for this whimsical blog, was not the most professional name to use for my writing portfolio, but I already bought the domain so I sure as shit am going to use it. Plus, I knew a guy who got a job as a ski instructor despite never having skied before, so I feel like anything is possible!

I also like to tell myself that putting both sides of my writing styles on display shows that I’m a real Jack of all trades…Jill of all trades? I don’t know how that expression works.

I was reading a book the other day (it was a trashy book, but it’s funny, and I can do what I want) and the author wrote “Jilled off” as opposed to “jacked off” and I have to say, it gave me the heebie jeebies.

So anyways, keep your fingers crossed that someone thinks I’m a worthwhile hire.

Ok, I need to wrap this up; I have a Lunchable to eat. Because I’m an adult, and again, I can do what I want.

So until next time…I guess I need a closing catchphrase, but that’s a hurdle for another beer.

You’d think by now I’d have that little phrase memorized, but nope, it’s copy/paste until the day I die.

Bye friends!

Remember being young?

Today’s beverage: Sam Adam’s Boston Lager, Long Trail Angry Gnome IPA, and Long Trail Blaze IPA.

Don’t judge me. I was supposed to be at my brother’s house today, meeting my baby niece for the first time, and yet I’m here in my own apartment. Stupid ice storms.

Back to the blog.

As my boyfriend and I continue the journey to thirty (it almost rhymes if you don’t think too hard) we have decided that the next step in adulthood for us is to own property!

We are thinking a house, but I could be convinced to buy a plot of land and build a porch. Here’s looking at you, Scrubs.

Enter real life House Hunters!

But Brigiddddd, House Hunters IS real. No it’s not, we all know that. It doesn’t make it any less fun to watch. Calm down.

I am excited to look for a house. It’d be cool if it wasn’t a pandemic so I didn’t have to worry about germs, but you gotta take what you can get.

The first step was to decide what we wanted in a house.

Real talk, I have no idea if that’s the first step. We literally have no clue what we are doing. Like, do I just show up to someone’s house and say “this is mine now” all Christoper Columbus style? Do I convince the homeowner that the place is haunted by my family and they miss me? Can I pay with discontinued Girl Scout cookie flavors? I don’t know. I guess that’s why realtors exist.

Anyway, we decided to figure out what our “non-negotiables” were.

Here’s what I came up with. The house has to have:

1. Backyard – preferably fenced. Buy all the dogs!

2. Two toilets – ideally not in the same room

3. A space for my jigsaw puzzles

And that’s it. Pretty simple. 10/10 would not be a good House Hunters contestant. Especially because I have a job that’s not “baked potato artist,” and a budget to match my income.

But it got me reminiscing about the house I thought I wanted when I was a kid. In elementary school, I was 100% convinced that my house would have a room with a trampoline floor and Velcro walls, a room with a trampoline floor and padded walls, and a ball pit. Essentially I just wanted to throw myself around in a somewhat safe manner.

I also wanted room for my 100 dogs, because I anticipated a future animal hoarding problem.

Now that I’m old and wise, my priorities have changed. Not the animal one; that’s really only being limited by my finances and landlords. My boyfriend accepted long ago that if there’s a dog that he wants, it will just be in addition to whatever I have already decided we will have. He once said he likes golden retrievers, so I guess it will just have to get along with our Great Dane and future St. Bernard.

Multiple trampoline rooms would be awesome, don’t get me wrong, but when you throw all that in with the rest of the mansion, there’s no way I’d be able to clean all of that. And don’t get me started on the homeowners insurance. Good grief.

That right there is how I know I’m getting old and boring. I don’t want a big house anymore because I don’t want to clean it. Not that I clean much currently in my manageably sized apartment. The assumption upon entering the house is that you will leave with dog hair on you. If that’s a problem, then you’re likely not in my pandemic circle anyway, so it’s not an issue.

This brought me to a million dollar idea, though. House Hunters, but with KIDS. Like the kids pick the houses; not like adults see three kids, compare the pros and cons and then pick one. This TV show would be the end of my need for any future career soul searching.

Kid House Hunters (it’s a working title): Kids get to go through the houses and pick what will and will not work for them. Because kids aren’t burdened or bogged down with things like mortgages, or resale value, or making logical decisions.

Theres no way this room will fit all my Legos.”

None of these sinks dispense fruit punch. That is unacceptable.”

This could work for a trampoline room if we knock down that wall. Do you know if it’s load-bearing?”

No granite countertops?! What am I, some sort of peasant?!”

You have to admit, this show would be fantastic.

I’ve been spending so much time lately thinking about my profession, that it’s been nice to shift my focus to another aspect of my “growing up.” I’ve always wanted to own a home, and in partnership with my boyfriend, we are in the fortunate position to make this dream a reality.

For one thing, I’m so excited to hang a picture using a hammer and nail, instead of a command strip! That’s it. That’s the only reason I want a home; my hatred of command strips.

Ok obviously that’s not true…most of the time. But I have had the same picture frame hanging on the wall for 6 months, right up until that little bugger decided it didn’t want to be sticky anymore. So boom, down it goes. This wouldn’t have happened if the sucker was nailed up there.

Let’s get back on track here.

In my first post, I said I was in the middle of a quarter life crisis. I have been getting to a point where I’m not really sure my career goals are what they once were. I sometimes question the academic path that led me here. But times like this, where I’m taking steps forward in other parts of my life, make me grateful and proud of where I am now.

I have a masters degree, a stable job that has thankfully survived the pandemic thus far, a comfortable living situation. I know that wherever I go from here, I have so many opportunities that will stem from where I’ve gotten myself so far.

I cannot end on such a sentimental note, so I will leave you with this: if you own a home that you are thinking about selling, and you have a working toilet in your basement, no walls, just out there living its life, waiting for a butt to grace its presence, you need to wall that shit off. Pun intended. Also maybe add a sink create the illusion that you occasionally wash your hands.

So until next time…I guess I need a closing catchphrase, but that’s a hurdle for another beer.

It started with a bar cart

Today’s beverage: Saranac S’more Porter

One word: DELICIOUS

Some of you may think 4pm is a little early for a beer. However, it’s Saturday. And to be fair, I’m trying to counteract the copious amount of caffeine I “accidentally” put in my system. God-forbid I go anywhere without thinking I need iced coffee. Hell, despite the fact that I was likely sweating out beer in my boxing class this morning, I filled my water bottle with a nitro cold brew. Since then, I’ve continued to put only caffeine in my system. But in my defense, we ran out of seltzer and I’ve grown accustomed to a certain way of living. You may call this being basic, but I call it…also being basic.

Anywhooos, back to the task at hand….

It all started with a bar cart. And it ended with an expense paid trip to Hawaii! No, it did not. I wish! No, it ended with a tequila purchase.

Pandemic projects; a lot of us have them, none of us need them. I do not buy into the idea that COVID is the perfect time “improve yourself.” No, this is more like the Hunger Games or The Road. You do what you need to do to get through it. You do you, boo boo.

I’ve been very fortunate, though. My boyfriend and I have stable jobs that we can do from home. Neither of us has gotten sick. Many of the people we are close to who have gotten sick have had relatively mild symptoms. And lastly, my mental health is controlled by medication.

But I don’t do “idle” well. I get what some might refer to as “obnoxious” or “annoying” or “un-showered”. COMMENCE THE PROJECTS!!

I like to think I have a bit of a knack for building shit. And like many people I know, the shutdowns have resulted in me having a bit of a knack for alcohol consumption. So I built a house for my liquor. Off I went to Home Depot (3 Home Depot’s in one trip to be exact because oops), and after 3 days I had a pretty nice bar.

ta-da!

Look at me, turning my alcohol consumption in to something productive. Excuse me while I give myself a nice pat on the back.

*pat pat pat*

And what goes well with a bar? FRESH INGREDIENTS!

Project 2: herb garden

All I have to say here is that the venture was short-lived, and everything died. Also, the parking lot of my apartment was not the ideal place to find rocks.

Project 3: new house for my rabbit, Elephant.

Elephant is a free-range rabbit in our apartment. She has been for years. She is somewhat self-contained by the fact that she won’t leave the carpet, but otherwise she hippity hops wherever she darn well pleases. Which for the most part, is no where. The bitch is lazy. The most activity she’s ever seen was that brief phase where she insisted on humping my Great Dane.

That being said, she still needs a house. For the past few years, it’s been a chicken coop, which looks great in my living room naturally. But she needs a house to store her litter box, because I’m not a savage.

She also needs a house because sometimes she has what we lovingly call “butt troubles.” If any of you own rabbits, you know they will occasionally have running craps. This is mostly due to poor diet and obesity. If you recall, Elephant is a lazy bitch. She is also an absolute fucking MENACE about food. Think Monty Python, but brown. We’re talking bowl throwing, we’re talking chasing and biting, we’re talking attacking the dog and destroying prized possessions. So yeah, she needs to go to “poop jail” sometimes, the sentence lasting until those poops firm right up.

Before anyone worries about her longevity, she’s almost 7 years old. Over the winter we had a scare when the vet told me that she likely either had uterine cancer or a bladder infection so severe that she would need surgery. Death was “imminent.” Fuck that noise. One week on antibiotics and we are good as new. So naturally, I’ve been telling people she beat cancer with pure stubbornness. Because what’s life without a little embellishment.

Back to the project. So I built her a new house. It had pretty lights! She ripped them apart. It had wallpaper! She tore it down. Some people just can’t have nice things I guess.

One project that didn’t have the desired outcome was my goal to start tracking my spending. So I was under the impression that if I did this, I would magically have more money. I do not. Turns out that I spend the same amount of money whether I write it down or not. Apparently, you also have to like create and follow a budget. Seems unfair to me, but whatever.

I also said I’d learn about investing, but after reading all the Game Stop stuff and not understanding a damn thing, I’m over it.

You could say I’m barely an adult.

My last piece of personal growth is that I’m now the proud owner of an orchid! Her name is Gale, after my two favorite Gales.

1. Gale the wind gust from Frozen 2

2. Gale from Letterkenny

IF YOU HAVE NOT SEEN LETTERKENNY YET… that’s your only pandemic project. Unless you’re a degen from upcountry, then you can just go kick rocks. If you’ve seen it, you’ll get it.

If you recall, my herbs died (one actually never started growing), so I got something that’s harder to care for. I mean, maybe I’m just not being challenged enough. Isn’t that why kids throw things and bite each other in elementary school? Because they need a challenge? Maybe that’s why all my succulents have died, because they’re just not commanding enough of my attention. To be clear, I didn’t bite them. I barely eat salad, let alone a houseplant.

But That’s what I’m going with. I needed a challenge. I adopted Gale 6 days ago, and she. is. thriving. Stay tuned for updates.

Wait, that’s not my last piece of growth! I guess it would be this blog, obvsies. Because I sure as shit have not gotten to the part where I upload my professional writing samples, the ultimate purpose of this whole venture. You can’t fail if you never start, right?!

So until next time…I guess I need a closing catchphrase, but that’s a hurdle for another beer.

^ see what I did there?!