Bizarro World‏

May 19, 2010 at 7:53 am | Posted in Around Boston, Married Life | 8 Comments
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Some days I wonder what the universe is up to… Sleeping on the job? Playing practical jokes? Completing a double-dog dare? Just not paying enough attention?   

I’m sure you have these days, too. Not the kind where one weird thing happens; the kind where enough bizarre things go down that you can’t help but wonder if you’re on the universe’s Candid Camera. Nothing horrible or tragic (thankfully), just a few things that, as C + C Music Factory says, “make you go hmmm.” Case in point? I’m fairly certain the universe was punking me yesterday. For example, I received two pieces of mail that were both a little “off.”   

Am I marrying a stranger? Who is Andrew Rottensteiner??

The first was a lease renewal for our apartment (what we affectionately call Chez Gerrowski). Other than a rental increase that we don’t wish to discuss (but we will say: oy!), the letter was fairly standard, except for my fiancé’s name. We’ve been together for nearly six years and all this time I have, apparently, had his name wrong. The “L-ski” we know and adore, according to our apartment complex, is really named “Andrew Rottensteiner.” Yeah. Rottensteiner. Could I become Sarah Rottensteiner? No. No, I don’t think I could. The silver lining here (you knew I would do my best to find one) is that I’m hoping they will bill all future monthly rent payments to Mr. Rottensteiner, and leave the real Andrew and I in peace. While we’re at it, let’s put good ol’ Rottie’s name on our electric, gas, phone, television and internet bills, too! Not to mention car payments…   

Which brings me to bizarro mail exhibit #2: the monthly bill from Honda for my faithful “Blue Steel.” On this month’s statement, Honda included a cute little parenting suggestion it felt I could put to use: namely, that I should spoil my soon-to-be college coed! Here’s the bill…   

Parents: Get your college-bound kids a Honda Scooter today! Riiight...

When I leased my car I had to give Honda all sorts of info about myself and I’m sure they know that I’m far too young to have a college-aged kid. Heck, after the application, background/credit check, they may know more about my life than I do. So…   

I will try to do the right thing here: Honda, since you know every intimate fact and detail about my life, if this soon-to-be undergrad does exist, go ahead and have said child get in touch with his/her dear ol’ mama! I’m nothing if not nurturing…   

~ Sarah (aka “mom” and the future Mrs. Rottensteiner??)


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  1. Yes, Rottensteiner lives on 4 Hohoe Lane! Anyone out there?

  2. So I saw this movie once where the fiance was not who he seemed to be….hmmm. I am a little concerned about this Sarah, and I might need to investigate more. When I met Andrew he did look more like a Rottensteiner to me….again, interesting situation.

    • And I thought my biggest concern about marrying him would be the shirts from 8th grade he refuses to part with… Oy!
      Make me a promise, Snarky: if, heaven forbid, something happens, you’ll ensure they cast a gorgeous, sophisticated, brilliant actress to play me in the Lifetime Movie.

  3. I promise to try my best to do as you ask, Sarah. Shirts from 8th grade?! Brainstorming here….is that all he has left from his past when he was able to live freely as a Rottensteiner? You are really laying the clues on thick here, Sarah.

    • The shirts from the 8th grade are nothing… A few further clues you may find in our home: Pop Warner football jersies, old retainer… it isn’t pretty.

  4. Isn’t pretty, you got that right. I mean don’t get me wrong I have my old stuffed animals from long ago, but you don’t see me keeping my toothbrushes with Barney on the top, and I cherished that toothbrush, but knew when it had to go. I am sorry Sarah, it is safe to say that the signs have been right in front of you for too long and I can no longer be of help. I think you know exactly who you are marrying, Rottensteiner, or not. I wish you two strangers a lifetime of future happiness (and getting to know each other)?!

  5. Rottensteiner, huh? I think the next time he acts like a poop or calls you Mrs. Hoofington, you call him Mr. Rottensteiner. Or just Rotty for short.

    • Can do! In fact, I may have already tried that… and now he knows the “joy” of a nickname indicating a foul mood 😉

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