BROUGHT TO YOU LIVE ...

.... from my living room! That's right bitches, I stepped into the lazy world and got myself a brand new, super awesome laptop and now have a wirless network through out my house.

The joy, the freedom! The ability to sit in my comfy brown chair (that is devoid of and has been devoid of laundry for quite some time, thank you very much) and watch my big TV while blogging is fabulous! I've been running around like a mad woman all weekend, testing out where the signal is the best and where it's not so good and tweaking it in general. The good news is that I can surf the net from anywhere in the apartment, the bad news is that I didn't buy a waterproof laptop, so the shower is out.

I can sit on my porch with a beer and watch the sun go down while surfing the net (I know, horribly disconnected from the real purpose of being outside but since I missed Britney's Dateline interview on Thursday night, I figured what better place way to read the transcript and laugh at the train wreck she's turned into). I can sit in my bed, and I do, because I LOVE my bed. I can sit on the washer in the washroom. I can even sit on the toilet, though that's a little personal. I don't need you all sharing THAT much.

The wireless networking was easy as ever. I actually booted up and found an unprotected network right away and would have benefited had I not already needed to pay for the Internet for my VoIP phone (Vonage = recommended!). I'm not all about people ganking my internet, so I secured and protected it. I was going to call it ProtectedBitchesHAHA and broadcast, but decided against it and just shut it all off. Don't need to encourage hacking!

I want to ride up and down the street with my laptop though and see how many wireless connections I can gank. That's the geek coming out in me! :-)

The knee is doing much better. It's scabbed over nicely, but still hurts like crazy. It swollen and I'm hesitant to use it but it's healing. Give me about two weeks and I'll find some other part of my body to injure. It is summertime, after all, and summer wouldn't be it without scraped knees and bruises.

I live in a decent area. Our complex is nothing but pretty people with fancy cars and fancy clothes. It's fairly quiet.

Except for the last two weeks. The neighbors next door have turned this place into redneck central.

When we first moved in, we thought they were just young kids like us. They seemed nice. They helped us move some of our shit in. They actually STILL seem nice. They've just been causing a lot of fucked up drama.

Initally, it was this wanksta and this punk rock girl living there. The wanksta had his hippie girlfriend over all the time in her little red BMW. Apparently, the hippie girlfriend was the sister of the punk rock girl but she didn't live there. Weird! We couldn't quite figure that one out. Initally, they were a bit loud, running up and down the stairs, partying till late hours of the night, having sex to where we could hear it through the walls. We brushed it off because we didn't want to cause trouble and they weren't super disruptive. Besides, we didn't need to make enemies if we ever wanted to party all night or run up and down the stairs.

But then things started going bad.

We're standing on the front porch one night and can hear the wanksta and the hippe girl going at it. A car pulls up and this nicely dressed older man comes up to the door and starts banging on it. No answer. He stands there and listens. Bangs again then yells for her to get her ass out there. She takes ten or so minutes to collect herself and comes out, where he proceeds to tell her she is not to come back to the apartment or see the wanksta again. He walks her to the car, where a woman gets out, demands the keys and says she will be driving the pretty red BMW home. Apparently, Mommy and Daddy were not happy with the hippie girls choice of boyfriends.

Memorial Day weekend, hippie girl and her punk rock sister are sitting out on the sidewalk having what looks like a very intense conversation. I'm walking the dog we were pet sitting and somehow am informed that punk rock girl was pulled over the night before and was brought back to the apartment by the police and now has no clue where her mother's BMW is (a different BMW than the hippie girl's red one - I know this because I ask and hippe girl informs me that the red one was taken away). She can't remember where she was, how she got home or anything. Just kept muttering about how her boyfriend is going to be pissed because she didn't call and he doesn't like her drinking. And I mention about the mommy and daddy incident and she says she moved out of the apartment because of that. Anyway, don't know how that all conspired but I saw the car later that day and have not seen the sister since.

But hippie girl has moved in. Apparently, her parents kicked her out and she has no place to go. They're still storming around the stairs at all hours of the night. She came over to borrow some Tylenol one night and randomly mentioned to us that they had no furniture so if we wanted to get rid of our couch, let them know. They apparently don't have a phone either because random people keep coming over to borrow ours. Steve just tells them the Internet isn't working, so the phone doesn't work. I think we need to start charging a dollar.

So middle of the week, apparently, Steve gets up early in the morning, around 2am or so, to check out the storms we were having. He comes back inside and said the wanksta and the hippie girl were fighting in the parking lot - like fist fighting. I mumble something weird and brush it off because it's the middle of the night. Then yesterday, we were talking to the neighbor downstairs and he told us that he was out walking his dog that night and his neighbor (below the wanksta) asked if he had heard them. Apparently, the complex could hear the guy beating the girl up. That neighbor got a bunch of his buddies from the complex and went upstairs to tell hippie girl she could sleep on their couch and didn't need to take that. They were apparently camped out on the bottom of the stairs just making sure he didn't kill her. Not long after that, the wanksta came down and started banging on their door, screaming about how they better never offer for her to sleep on their fucking couch and she's screaming shit about not doing anything because he's already on parole and he's screaming back that he doesn't care, he's going to fucking kill somebody and she's calling him white trash and blah, blah. And that's when the neighbor below us called the cops.

And Steve said she came over to use the phone the other night and there were bruises all on her arm, like someone had grabbed her hard.

It's like seriously though, do we live in the fucking ghetto? Do you hear anybody else in this complex causing all this ruckus and keeping everyone else up? Do you seriously think you could beat the shit out of your girlfriend loud enough to where everyone could hear and get away with it?

I'm not all about gettng in people's business and I'm not about to go over there if I hear anything because I'm not stupid and not going to put myself in danger. But I will call the cops. And I will call them every fucking time until something is done. I don't pay the kind of rent I do to have to put up with the white trash neighbors beating the shit out of each other.

I don't understand how women can be so stupid. The first time some guy put his hands on me, I'm gone. That's if I don't fucking kill them first. Because seriously, you try that shit, and you'll seriously regret it.

Other than the drama, things are going well. Work is progressing, bills are being paid off, we're saving for a house, and we're just hanging out, enjoying the summer. My dad and sisters are coming down this weekend and Casey, Emmons and Spaz are coming down the weekend of the 4th.

Steve and I were talking about houses and he mentioned that we could get a trailer. I said no, absolutely not. He asks if I have something against trailers, and I say no, I've seen some gorgeous ones.

There's nothing wrong with a trailer. There's absolutely nothing wrong with living in the South. But moving South and then buying a trailer - there's a stereotype I don't want to reinforce. Brandine and Cletus we will not become.

We'll get a modular home. :-)

I got a boo-boo today, see above? I haven't scraped my knee like that since I was ten years old. And it stings like hell.

Most of you who have known me awhile are aware that I'm a klutz. I have sprained both of my ankles at least three times. I'm an expert at nursing scrapes, sprains, muscle pulls, bruises - anything that you could get by running into, tripping over, falling on or twisting something. I sprained my ankle once on the way to a party back in high school and was told I couldn't leave the house unless I walked out. I grabbed a set of crutches that we had around the house (from previous sprains/breaks) and half-walked, half-hopped out.

So there's no story behind this. No excuse. No major drama. I was walking from the main building at work just across the parking lot to the the branch to deposit money. My ankle rolled out from under me and I pretty much face planted onto the ground, except for by face, I mean my toes, then my knee and then my hand as various parts of my body proceeded to break the fall.

Even worse is that it was on this concrete/seashell mix that they like to mix up around here to give it that Lowcountry, beachy feel. The only thing I felt was the jagged edges of the shells scraping off the top ten layers of my skin.

It also tore through my fucking pants. My very cute linen capris that I love - tore a six inch rip right across the knee.

There were chunks of skin hanging off. I deposited my money and hobbled back upstairs, thinking I'd just grab the first aid kit. Washed the scrape out and then we took a second look and realized it needed ice because it was swelling. It's still swollen. Took my shoes off, elevated it on my desk and prayed to god the CEO didn't walk in, as he had a habit of doing.

I was being a big girl about it, until I realized it still stung and was starting to hurt. And the ankle that I twisted, on the opposite leg, was starting to throb. I decided to call it a day and head home.

I dreaded coming home because I knew Steve would look at me and laugh for making a big deal about it because he's a mechanic and he's accidentally driven nails thorugh his hands. And as I unwrapped it, he grinned and said "That's it?"

And I just stared and pouted and grabbed the Neosporin and Peroxide. I was dabbing the Peroxide because it stung. Steve grabbed the bottle, told me to put my leg over the edge of the tub and proceeded to pour it over the cut. I cried. I grabbed his shirt. I cried some more.

I looked up at him in tears and said "Blow on it" because my mom used to blow on it.

I'm a big huge baby. I don't do pain.

But now it's better. It's still gross looking. It still stings. The ankle still hurts. But I can handle it. I may just need to wrap it though, so I don't get blood over my white comforter.

The best part of it was that after I hurt myself, I called my mom. I told her I needed a mommy. I told her what happened, which didn't surprise her because she's heard it a million times before. I called her back later tonight to tell her I was doing ok and I told her I was fine, I was well-versed in taking care of stuff like this and that I just needed a little Mommy sympathy. She asked if I needed her to come over and take care of me. I said no.

But had I said yes, she could've been here in minutes. Two months ago, at six hundred miles or twelve hours apart, that wasn't even possible.

It's great knowing some tender-loving Mommy care is right up the street if I need, even though I'm a big girl now! :-)

... leads to nothing more than a simple update.

On Tuesday, Steve and I became official residents of South Carolina. We spent about two hours total at the DMV getting our property taxes paid and being issued new licenses and tags. The OCD in me is kicking in when I look at my license picture because it's off center and they took it from my neck up, leaving a significant amount of space above my head. So I look like a midget. And it irks me! But I don't think the DMV are too keen on you requesting a retake because someone didn't pass Portrait Photography 101.

Overall, the DMV wasn't as hellish as I had thought it would be. In PA, a trip to the DMV is like getting your eyes gouged out. Renewing your license is nothing, if you visit a photo center. But doing anything other than that, forget it.

We've really been getting into the swing of things here. We go to work, come home and hang out. A lot of times we go exploring or rent a movie. Steve cooks dinner and cleans up the kitchen. I do laundry. It takes forever for both of us to put our clothes away so the bedroom can look like a disaster area, but it's still functional. I've been flipping through the Pottery Barn catalog and getting ideas for decorating. I wanted a beachside cottage look,with seashells and coral and whitewash everywhere. There's a lot of ideas I've picked up that I can actually make for much cheaper than buying them premade from the store. Seashells are free here and you can find sand dollars in the surf with your toes. I've taken tons of pictures that I'm in love with and I think I'm going to blow those up and hang them on the wall. The furniture is something to be seen but it can be worked around until we can get better stuff.

We've only been here about two months and sometimes it feels like forever. Other times, it feels like we just left. Regardless, it's beginning to feel like home.

We try to fill our weekends with fun since we're spending all of our time together. We took the boat out with my parents Memorial Day weekend. Fished for a bit up the Cooper River but didn't really catch anything we could keep. Mom hooked an eel and a tiny stingray but we threw those back. Then we headed out into the harbor and towards Fort Sumter. The water was really choppy and we kept hitting these swells head on so it was a fun ride. Mom was getting scared though, which kind of unnerved me a bit. I grabbed my life jacket and put it on and Steve grinned at me.

"Scared?" he asks.

"No," I said, grinning back. "I just don't swim very well."

All in all it was a long day that produced very tired and sunburnt people. I was ridiculously burnt because I wanted to be brillant and get a tan by putting on SPF 4 dark tanning oil. I still have burns on my chest, like hardcore burns that stretch the skin and hurt like crazy. I'm peeling like I've got some skin disease. But that's OK, because underneath all that, I'm still tan.

This weekend we headed out to breakfast on Sunday morning then drove from one of Folly Beach to the other just to explore, because Steve hadn't been to that beach yet. It seeemed really crowded but I think that was more because there was no structured parking or as many lots as there are on Isle of Palms.

I suggested that we go to Magnolia Plantation because Steve wanted to see some alligators and I heard that's where they're fairly visible. We walked the entire garden path, which took us about four hours and it was gorgeous! I got tons of pictures of the flowers and trees and the Ashley River. It was neat to watch Steve get excited because there were so many plants and flowers and animals he hadn't seen before. We then made our way over to the petting zoo and made friends with some goats and sheep. And finally, we walked the Audubon Swamp Garden, which was really cool in itself. I'll post pictures soon!

Here's a crazy sight. We're in the petting zoo, where there are animals just roaming around. Farm animals, goats, pigs, donkeys, ponys, and the like just shitting and pissing anywhere they want. And there's a little girl roaming around in the petting zoo WITH NO SHOES ON! I was so grossed out. It fit every stereotypical "redneck" story I'd heard.

We rounded out the weekend fishing off of Remley's Point and watching the sunset over the Cooper River. I fished for a bit but we didn't really catch anything. It was relaxing in itself just to sit on the pier with the breeze blowing off the water and the new bridges sparkling in the background.

We're getting into a comforting rhythm. I'm loving the new life we've started down here.