So there I was surrounded.... by dogs in my living room. Yes, there are four. My roomie (bro-in-law), my friend (we'll call Doll face) and me are sitting in the living room wasting our time in front of the TV. This normally would not be an issue but WAIT it's Friday night (cue that terrible Friday song by that Black girl)
You: Oh no! Theen has gone racist.
Me: No I haven't, it's her last name..... assholes. Feel ashamed.
Going on. So I'm like, let's call everyone we know! This is how it went down:
Doll face: Everyone I know is out of town... and that's like 3 people.
Roomie: I called everyone we know.... and that's like three people.
Me: Dammit, you guys are the only ones I really hang out with... and those three people. We have no friends....
Roomie: Wait, I'll see what Frat boy is up to....
Me: I should probably find out if he hooked up with my sister too....
Seriously, it went down like that.
So we decided to hang out with him and his med. school buddies before they have no life and their testicles disappear into their bodies for lack of use. I drive there. I have a 32 oz plastic cup filled with vodka cran. We meet the med. school buddies and we hit it off. It was a good time - uh oh, shots. Espresso vodka 100 proof.
Now, I'm a fan of a lot of things, but in my old age, shots my kryptonite.
Yeah, so that didn't stop me.
Well, we decide to head off to the bar and what? Frat boy is in my car? Hey Frat boy, are you hooking up with my sister? ...Oh no I didn't... yes, yes I did. He was stuck in my car trying to figure out what to say and I'm debating if waterboarding works. He tries to text my sister to get their stories straight and what do I do? I ninja myself to the backseat and attack him to get his phone away so that he screws up and ends up telling me everything that happened.
Well, it was a disappointment.
Eh, at least my bf called me to tell me that he was driving in tonight. (this is relevant later)
Anyway, so we get to the club and we parked. There were a bunch of young men (16-21) sitting on a stoop, watching people go by... very 227 throwback (remember that show?) And I get into a conversation with this 16 year old young man, who was telling me he could show me a good time... serial.
My thought process: You are 16. You barely have pubic hair much less the experience to show me a "good time". You can't even drink or get into a bar/restaurant after 10:00pm by yourself... don't you have some video game or some other awkward encounter that you could be utilizing?
Moving along, I have no cash (I am cash poor... all poor really), what is a girl to do? I honestly only plan on getting one drink because as custom, I stop and talk to the guys that buy me drinks because I figure they bought a drink worth of my time. No ladies, I don't get them to buy me a drink and walk off... that's bitchy. If it is a terrible conversation, I can down my drink and be done with it. Win-win.
I had a random couple of fellows buy me and my friend a drink but wait, shots? Again? ok.
Now, from here on in, I'm screwed. Dollface is flirting, I'm staring at some hot guy on the dance floor (who was a baby unfortunately,) and then BAM!
TIME TO DANCE DANCE DANCE.... uh oh. Who's wearing four inch heels? This girl. Dammit, and I can't dance because my motor movements have slowed with the alcohol, lack of practice, and lack of balance on stilts.... (no, I didn't fall, BARELY). So y'know that girl that thinks she's dancing awesome because she's drunk but really it just swaying and trying not to fall... this girl.
We hop on to another club where I was carried by my Roomie. MY FEET HURT, I COULD'VE WALKED IF I WANTED TO! Dollface is getting hit on all night, and I'm just drinking catching up on missed conversation and you wouldn't believe what came next!
Are you guessing that I randomly puked? hahahah... NO.
I had a walk-by tonguing...
You: WHAT?!
Me: yes.
No, it's not a word but it should be... This guy apparently stood behind me, and I guess I thought it was my roomie because I didn't notice. Dollface was getting suspicious of this guy and realized, a bit too late, that he had other ideas. This guy literally grabbed my face, kissed me and walked away.
Now, because I was slightly inebriated, my reaction time was slow. NO, i didn't not think the guy kissing me WAS my roomie, because ewww... gross... that's like kissing your brother. ***shivering****gag***shiver****
But I kinda stood there, and guess what? My Roomie saw it and nearly beat me to death in the club. He was wasted, and I was wasted and here's what went down:
Roomie: DUDE, WHAT THE HELL?
Me: DUDE, I DON'T KNOW WHAT JUST HAPPENED!
Roomie: DUDE, YOU MADE OUT WITH A RANDO!? ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME?
Me: DUDE, HE GRABBED MY FACE AND MADE ME!
Roomie: WHAT? HOW THE HELL DOES THAT HAPPEN, HE JUST GRABBED YOUR FACE? UH GROSS, YOU TOTALLY KISSED HIM
Me: I HAVE NO IDEA WHAT JUST HAPPENED? REALLY, I HAVE NO IDEA WHAT HE LOOKS LIKE!
Roomie: YOU DON'T KNOW WHAT HE LOOKS LIKE AND YOU KISSED HIM? DUDE, THAT'S THE SLUTTIEST THING I'VE HEARD ALL NIGHT.
Me: HE'S THE SLUT ASSHOLE, I HAVE NO IDEA WHAT JUST HAPPENED!
(Yup, we were screaming at each other and it went on and on.... hey, the music was loud and we were drunk, really you expected a grown up conversation?) Well, we finally stopped bickering because we weren't getting answers from each other and Dollface decided to keep me on a short leash because apparently Rando-makeout-guy was flying around me like a vulture, and I didn't even know what he looked like. He had a blue shirt.
We end up leaving after another shot... i think. And we get outside. Now, I'm NOT driving, Dollface is good to go, and Roomie is three sheets to the wind. We get to the car and I hear a coin fall and ignore it.
Dollface recap: Meanwhile, behind me my roomie has DROPPED his wedding band and it rolled somewhere. Three people saw it fall and everyone just stared at the floor. Dollface is like, oh shit, no one is going to find it. So she pushes me into the car and hurries over to the three guys stupidly standing there hoping it'll hop up and show itself, when she finds the ring. Thank goodness because I do remember a rain gutter being right by the car... why? Because I am a well trained machine and if I had an emergency vomit fest, I know where the exits are.
On the LONG drive home, I'm singing and hiccuping, Roomie falls asleep with his head on his chest sitting up and Dollface is ready to throw us in traffic. (TUCK AND ROLL GRANDMA.)
We finally get home. All of a sudden like the energizer bunny got a hold of some crack, Roomie wakes up and walks across the street, seriously he thought he was walking straight... into our neighbor's yard.
Y'know how people talk about those crazy neighbors who are glad they don't live right next door to.... yeah, we do. HE has cameras OUTSIDE HIS HOUSE?! TO WATCH AND MAKE SURE DOGS DON'T POOP IN HIS YARD! It would not surprise me if he had a painting with eyeholes in his house. Well Roomie walks over to his place and SWEARS it is his house. Dollface is like, "No, don't go over there! Roomie, Roomie - seriously, that's not your car...." He's standing there, readying himself to puke and BAM! it hits him. This is not his car, this is not his yard, this is across the street at the crazy neighbors house... and he almost puke in his YARD! Really, it's so satisfying to watch someone realize that they just saved their own life by the decision they just made. *JUST SAY NO*
We get him home, he comes in, grabs a trash bag and heads upstairs... I wake up my bf and hop in the shower. He asks me how my night was and I was so guilty about the walk-by tonguing I totally told him everything. I don't remember his reaction, but I know that he stopped brushing his teeth at one point and looked at me weird.
All in all, it was a good night sans the rando-makeout-guy.
This should go as a lesson to all of you.
1. Have a DD. They will save your life from crazy neighbors.
2. No shots unless you are willing to pay the price of finding ALL the exits before you step into my car.
3. Walk-by-makeout sessions are NOT OK.
Oh, and feed your dog, they don't care how you get home, what you did, or how you smell. Their expectations for you are low already.
Monday, July 25, 2011
Thursday, July 21, 2011
Love sucks
So there I am surrounded by rom-com trailers... and I realize something. This is bullshit.
Yeah, I said it and I'll say it again!
I'm a FAN - a huge fan of romance novels... not even kidding. I like romance novels with strong female characters and stupid boys. So what? But if I have to watch another nicholas sparks movie, so help me GOD, I'm going to rip off his head and fill it with jelly. I don't want to see real life love - it sucks, I know it. Anyone who's dated knows it, why would i want to WATCH it on the big screen? I get tension, I get issues, but seriously...
I spent a glorious weekend with my baby sister and we sat and watched "The Notebook" the freaking quintessential romance movie for those blubbery-faced fools who like to cry at movies... I don't hate it because it's not a good story. I hate it because all you see is THEIR LOVE. The beginning I like...
BUT Dude, *spoiler alert* her mom is a major bitch that hid 365 LETTERS from her daughter! then the main character just forgives her because she said she was sorry! THEN she dumps her fiance to follow her heart... dude, she lied to her fiance, then she cheated on her FIANCE, THEN he totally just lets her go and you don't see the part about how they have to get their deposits back, or how he's off crying, or how her friends are going to react to her cheating/leaving... then she's got Alzheimer's, and he's literally dying of a broken heart?!?! How is this a fucking feel good romance story? because they DIE TOGETHER?!
If you say it's sweet, I'll find you and force you to eat as much mayonnaise as I can stuff in your mouth - it's depressing.
All romantic comedies/dramas seem to have an air of lying... so far from what I've seen or something SO out of left field that it is unbelievable OR ends badly.
1. Ten things I hate about you - Lies (but i actually like this movie because the girl is a bitch)
2. How to loose a guy in ten days - Lies (and fucked up)
3. Pretty woman - a whore that wins a millionaires heart? "Mommy I want to be a streetwalker")
4. Simply Irresistible - uh, magic
5. Brokeback Mountain - hello Death. (yes, this is a story of romance you homophobic jerkheads)
6. Titanic - Dies
7. the graduate - steals the bride
8. Casablanca - Freaking LEAVES....
9. Corina corina/Othello/O - racial tension and this is the WORST kind... poke me in the eyes lemon drops... I feel so terrible that most of the time I'll never watch it again.
10. Romeo and Juliet - BOTH die.
Whatever, I can go on and on, so I looked-up some movies, top 50 based on the New York times... guess what?
Our generation doesn't have that many listed. And it makes totally sense. Our version of love is like Snookie in South Park banging everything in sight.
Action films, I get the tension. You're about to die - you want to have sex - I see it as a natural progression... Sci-fi movies, it's weird to begin with and I'm totally into it. I'm just sick of love being in the air and all over television when I want to see something that makes more sense. The only movie I can think of that fills my romance need without my gag reflex is When Harry Met Sally. It showed the progression, the pain of breaking up, then heartache, but it didn't show death, destruction of a life, or magic. It showed to smart ass people getting along.
Now, I tell you. WHY are these movies grossing so much money? I know why guys hate them, now ladies, as much as you want to believe, why are you paying $11 to see a movie you can just rewatch on the Bachelor? (I also hate that show)
Urgh... sorry to all my readers. I'm just not feeling the love today.
Yeah, I said it and I'll say it again!
I'm a FAN - a huge fan of romance novels... not even kidding. I like romance novels with strong female characters and stupid boys. So what? But if I have to watch another nicholas sparks movie, so help me GOD, I'm going to rip off his head and fill it with jelly. I don't want to see real life love - it sucks, I know it. Anyone who's dated knows it, why would i want to WATCH it on the big screen? I get tension, I get issues, but seriously...
I spent a glorious weekend with my baby sister and we sat and watched "The Notebook" the freaking quintessential romance movie for those blubbery-faced fools who like to cry at movies... I don't hate it because it's not a good story. I hate it because all you see is THEIR LOVE. The beginning I like...
BUT Dude, *spoiler alert* her mom is a major bitch that hid 365 LETTERS from her daughter! then the main character just forgives her because she said she was sorry! THEN she dumps her fiance to follow her heart... dude, she lied to her fiance, then she cheated on her FIANCE, THEN he totally just lets her go and you don't see the part about how they have to get their deposits back, or how he's off crying, or how her friends are going to react to her cheating/leaving... then she's got Alzheimer's, and he's literally dying of a broken heart?!?! How is this a fucking feel good romance story? because they DIE TOGETHER?!
If you say it's sweet, I'll find you and force you to eat as much mayonnaise as I can stuff in your mouth - it's depressing.
All romantic comedies/dramas seem to have an air of lying... so far from what I've seen or something SO out of left field that it is unbelievable OR ends badly.
1. Ten things I hate about you - Lies (but i actually like this movie because the girl is a bitch)
2. How to loose a guy in ten days - Lies (and fucked up)
3. Pretty woman - a whore that wins a millionaires heart? "Mommy I want to be a streetwalker")
4. Simply Irresistible - uh, magic
5. Brokeback Mountain - hello Death. (yes, this is a story of romance you homophobic jerkheads)
6. Titanic - Dies
7. the graduate - steals the bride
8. Casablanca - Freaking LEAVES....
9. Corina corina/Othello/O - racial tension and this is the WORST kind... poke me in the eyes lemon drops... I feel so terrible that most of the time I'll never watch it again.
10. Romeo and Juliet - BOTH die.
Whatever, I can go on and on, so I looked-up some movies, top 50 based on the New York times... guess what?
Our generation doesn't have that many listed. And it makes totally sense. Our version of love is like Snookie in South Park banging everything in sight.
Action films, I get the tension. You're about to die - you want to have sex - I see it as a natural progression... Sci-fi movies, it's weird to begin with and I'm totally into it. I'm just sick of love being in the air and all over television when I want to see something that makes more sense. The only movie I can think of that fills my romance need without my gag reflex is When Harry Met Sally. It showed the progression, the pain of breaking up, then heartache, but it didn't show death, destruction of a life, or magic. It showed to smart ass people getting along.
Now, I tell you. WHY are these movies grossing so much money? I know why guys hate them, now ladies, as much as you want to believe, why are you paying $11 to see a movie you can just rewatch on the Bachelor? (I also hate that show)
Urgh... sorry to all my readers. I'm just not feeling the love today.
Friday, June 17, 2011
All the single ladies
Ok, So there I was surrounded by almost no one.... which is what clubs look like on the outskirts of Tampa..... Anyway, I was out with my bf, my bro-in-law and two very attractive single ladies.
Ok, these ladies were feeling pretty blue and wanted to dance it out ("fuck guys, I just want to dance" - Thank you Dane Cook). I realized something... fellas, you kinda suck. I can't believe I'm writing this blog to tell you the truth but sometimes... I just wanna smack a dude.
I get that this is the animal kingdom and there are a few things that are pretty predominate in all species:
1. You can hunt in packs.
2. You go for the kill by separating one from the pack.
3. Peacocking (looking good/different will get you attention)
4. You must have a special dance/skill/smell... in order to get the female species to want you.
Personally, I think these are fairly easy to follow HOWEVER Guys are idiots or don't watch enough PBS because this is what I saw:
1. You do hunt in packs... like hyenas waiting for the cast offs. C'mon guys, buy a girl and her friend a drink. Make her feel comfortable... not like she's a piece of meat and you are waiting for some lion to hurt her self esteem enough for you to get a chance... its pathetic.
2. You only talk to a girl if she's by herself...ummm... hello, chicks congregate in packs because it's safer. YOU have to make her want to come talk to you and feel safe. You need to do the whole watching her a little (do I say stalking? perhaps in a GOOD way, not crazy Reagan shooting kind of way), and catch her at the right time, i.e. at the bar, coming back from the bathroom, having a smoke break.... etc. Let it be said, most guys are not lucky enough to get two girls at once, so stop trying. Choose one and go for it, puss.
3. Do not expect a hot girl to pay attention to you if you haven't taken care of YOUR situation. Clean shirt, shoes and a nice aftershave. AND SHAVE. Yes, 5 o'clock shadow is fine as long as its supposed to be that way. Don't dress like an idiot unless that's the kind of attention you want - you're an idiot and no girl is going to take you seriously.
Guy wearing a speedo, girl wearing a bikini:
Guy: hey what's up?
Girl: Apparently you are. Get out of my face.
And dude, you'd deserve it.
4. The treasure doesn't hunt. YOU DO. Smell good, look good (clean, respectable) and we'll notice.
Lastly, take a freakin chance and talk to a girl. We survive off of compliments and shoes.
Guy: You look really nice.
Girl: Thanks.
HOW FREAKIN EASY IS THAT?!!
Oh and backhanded compliments, while guys think this works, they are full of shit. I can do it too...
"Wow, I didn't know they made designer pants that small..."
It doesn't make anyone want to get to know you.
And while I'm on the subject.... nice guys, nice girls - you don't finish last. You just need to know what you want, and usually its each other. Bad boys/bad girls don't go for the sacrificial virgins - it's too easy. DON'T BE A PUSHOVER.
Know what you want and go for it. If you fail, do it again.
p.s. No whining. That makes you a bigger puss.
Ok, these ladies were feeling pretty blue and wanted to dance it out ("fuck guys, I just want to dance" - Thank you Dane Cook). I realized something... fellas, you kinda suck. I can't believe I'm writing this blog to tell you the truth but sometimes... I just wanna smack a dude.
I get that this is the animal kingdom and there are a few things that are pretty predominate in all species:
1. You can hunt in packs.
2. You go for the kill by separating one from the pack.
3. Peacocking (looking good/different will get you attention)
4. You must have a special dance/skill/smell... in order to get the female species to want you.
Personally, I think these are fairly easy to follow HOWEVER Guys are idiots or don't watch enough PBS because this is what I saw:
1. You do hunt in packs... like hyenas waiting for the cast offs. C'mon guys, buy a girl and her friend a drink. Make her feel comfortable... not like she's a piece of meat and you are waiting for some lion to hurt her self esteem enough for you to get a chance... its pathetic.
2. You only talk to a girl if she's by herself...ummm... hello, chicks congregate in packs because it's safer. YOU have to make her want to come talk to you and feel safe. You need to do the whole watching her a little (do I say stalking? perhaps in a GOOD way, not crazy Reagan shooting kind of way), and catch her at the right time, i.e. at the bar, coming back from the bathroom, having a smoke break.... etc. Let it be said, most guys are not lucky enough to get two girls at once, so stop trying. Choose one and go for it, puss.
3. Do not expect a hot girl to pay attention to you if you haven't taken care of YOUR situation. Clean shirt, shoes and a nice aftershave. AND SHAVE. Yes, 5 o'clock shadow is fine as long as its supposed to be that way. Don't dress like an idiot unless that's the kind of attention you want - you're an idiot and no girl is going to take you seriously.
Guy wearing a speedo, girl wearing a bikini:
Guy: hey what's up?
Girl: Apparently you are. Get out of my face.
And dude, you'd deserve it.
4. The treasure doesn't hunt. YOU DO. Smell good, look good (clean, respectable) and we'll notice.
Lastly, take a freakin chance and talk to a girl. We survive off of compliments and shoes.
Guy: You look really nice.
Girl: Thanks.
HOW FREAKIN EASY IS THAT?!!
Oh and backhanded compliments, while guys think this works, they are full of shit. I can do it too...
"Wow, I didn't know they made designer pants that small..."
It doesn't make anyone want to get to know you.
And while I'm on the subject.... nice guys, nice girls - you don't finish last. You just need to know what you want, and usually its each other. Bad boys/bad girls don't go for the sacrificial virgins - it's too easy. DON'T BE A PUSHOVER.
Know what you want and go for it. If you fail, do it again.
p.s. No whining. That makes you a bigger puss.
Saturday, April 16, 2011
Return to the computer
So there I was surrounded... by my real life ignoring my computer.
I've been noticing a few things about being small... y'know just those things I have to deal with in everyday life that no "real-size" person thinks of...
Being small is a little hard.
Things I noticed at Disney World:
1) You get a sly check by the people who have to make sure you are tall enough for the ride. Yeah. A SLY check because when they look at me, they find out I'm not 10 years old and jumping off walls.... I'm 28 and jumping off walls, so I could be dangerous.
2) When you go into a restaurant (this happens NOT at Disney world too), you're asked "Kid menu?"
Like this one time, I was at olive garden with my sister and her husband. We were waiting (as you always do there) and they finally called our name. Well, I'm busy (of course checking my facebook status) and the guy asks "kid menu?".... I look up and squint my eyes in a defensive manner, and he immediately goes "or not..."
Ok, now, with a mistake like that, though some could skew it as, "you look so young" "its a compliment" uh NO. He looked at my face and was like, that's a short woman, not a kid. Which means MY FACE looks old.
Fuck you dude, give me a child's spaghetti and a pinot noir STAT!!!
3)Automatic toilets are the devil.
Ok, we all have had the occasional, the-toilet-will-flush-on-its-own-for-no-reason scenario, which is both a little scary and gross. For all you guys out there, women do the hover on most bathrooms because, let's face it: I don't want to share ass germs with someone I don't know (but if I know you, it seems ok).
For me however, this becomes a bit of a contortionist's nightmare. I must keep my back up so the toilet won't flush on me, while making sure I'm steady enough to pee (which is difficult if the toilet seat is major high for those giants we live along side of), AND get toilet paper from the toilet roll 3 feet away.... (a bit of an exaggeration, but not really when 6 inches might as well be three feet away). AND just so we don't forget, this exact situation happened at Disney World, where innocent children have to repeatedly fight this unfortunate monster!
Yes, in my wisdom, I have figured out how to combat this evil demon... but it occasionally still gets me beat. I must then take the extra step at home to clorox my ass.
Things I notice at Rock concerts (because I was at one last night)/clubs:
1) If you fart, I smell that shit first and it pisses me off.
2) I am eye level with most cups and no, after 28 years, it's not funny pretending my head is a coaster, you aren't original... just like it's not funny when I puke on your shoes, at least I am original....
3) Yes people, the bouncers let me in, stop staring.
On a side story, I find it interesting to watch people in situations where there are tons of people, because they think there is some anonymity in a crowd and forget there are people like me watching you.
At the concert last night (coheed and cambria), I had to go to the bathroom, so I made my way around a ton of people. I noticed a peculiar thing. There was a girl fighting with her boyfriend outside the bathroom... ok, not a huge deal. Then I was coming back and passed a couple, that was bickering "stop pushing me, I'm going..." y'know the kind. Then I passed another couple, where the girl was sitting there and the guy was like, "I don't get it, what the fuck is your problem"...
I get back and I'm like, "whoa, there are some major anger issues out there. You are at a concert that you paid money for and you guys are busy arguing, that sucks, I'm glad I'm not you... I got back, laughed a little with him about all those "stupid fighting couples"
Then I noticed something. I wanted to punch my boyfriend.
Me: Hahaha, those stupid couples....
Dev: Yeah, I'm really glad we aren't like that. Oh here's the rest of my coke.
Me: ::throwing my hands up:: WHAT THE FUCK DEVIN?!
I think it was the music.
I know I kinda went off topic, but if you take anything away from this remember:
Be aware of your surroundings, short people have noses too.
I've been noticing a few things about being small... y'know just those things I have to deal with in everyday life that no "real-size" person thinks of...
Being small is a little hard.
Things I noticed at Disney World:
1) You get a sly check by the people who have to make sure you are tall enough for the ride. Yeah. A SLY check because when they look at me, they find out I'm not 10 years old and jumping off walls.... I'm 28 and jumping off walls, so I could be dangerous.
2) When you go into a restaurant (this happens NOT at Disney world too), you're asked "Kid menu?"
Like this one time, I was at olive garden with my sister and her husband. We were waiting (as you always do there) and they finally called our name. Well, I'm busy (of course checking my facebook status) and the guy asks "kid menu?".... I look up and squint my eyes in a defensive manner, and he immediately goes "or not..."
Ok, now, with a mistake like that, though some could skew it as, "you look so young" "its a compliment" uh NO. He looked at my face and was like, that's a short woman, not a kid. Which means MY FACE looks old.
Fuck you dude, give me a child's spaghetti and a pinot noir STAT!!!
3)Automatic toilets are the devil.
Ok, we all have had the occasional, the-toilet-will-flush-on-its-own-for-no-reason scenario, which is both a little scary and gross. For all you guys out there, women do the hover on most bathrooms because, let's face it: I don't want to share ass germs with someone I don't know (but if I know you, it seems ok).
For me however, this becomes a bit of a contortionist's nightmare. I must keep my back up so the toilet won't flush on me, while making sure I'm steady enough to pee (which is difficult if the toilet seat is major high for those giants we live along side of), AND get toilet paper from the toilet roll 3 feet away.... (a bit of an exaggeration, but not really when 6 inches might as well be three feet away). AND just so we don't forget, this exact situation happened at Disney World, where innocent children have to repeatedly fight this unfortunate monster!
Yes, in my wisdom, I have figured out how to combat this evil demon... but it occasionally still gets me beat. I must then take the extra step at home to clorox my ass.
Things I notice at Rock concerts (because I was at one last night)/clubs:
1) If you fart, I smell that shit first and it pisses me off.
2) I am eye level with most cups and no, after 28 years, it's not funny pretending my head is a coaster, you aren't original... just like it's not funny when I puke on your shoes, at least I am original....
3) Yes people, the bouncers let me in, stop staring.
On a side story, I find it interesting to watch people in situations where there are tons of people, because they think there is some anonymity in a crowd and forget there are people like me watching you.
At the concert last night (coheed and cambria), I had to go to the bathroom, so I made my way around a ton of people. I noticed a peculiar thing. There was a girl fighting with her boyfriend outside the bathroom... ok, not a huge deal. Then I was coming back and passed a couple, that was bickering "stop pushing me, I'm going..." y'know the kind. Then I passed another couple, where the girl was sitting there and the guy was like, "I don't get it, what the fuck is your problem"...
I get back and I'm like, "whoa, there are some major anger issues out there. You are at a concert that you paid money for and you guys are busy arguing, that sucks, I'm glad I'm not you... I got back, laughed a little with him about all those "stupid fighting couples"
Then I noticed something. I wanted to punch my boyfriend.
Me: Hahaha, those stupid couples....
Dev: Yeah, I'm really glad we aren't like that. Oh here's the rest of my coke.
Me: ::throwing my hands up:: WHAT THE FUCK DEVIN?!
I think it was the music.
I know I kinda went off topic, but if you take anything away from this remember:
Be aware of your surroundings, short people have noses too.
Thursday, March 3, 2011
Oh how I hate myself sometimes
So there I was surrounded... by smarter people than me. Yes, some of you have these funny little quips, "oh, like that's hard...", "You mean you went to a 5th grade class?"... hardy-har-har.
Yes, by smarter people, I mean - person, and by smarter person I mean - the one interviewing me for the job.
Put it together - I was at a job interview... so much fun. Trying to get someone to hire you based on a piece of paper that you hopefully constructed so it looks OH-SO-THE-SAME as not too stand out as quirky, but UNIQUE enough to make you stand out... It's a contradiction. Ergo, the reason I think my prior cover letter would work.
Anyway, besides that, it feels like I'm defending a thesis that I wrote YEARS ago. Honestly, I don't remember ALL of the classes I took... sorry, my brain doesn't work like that. AND yes, I was in charge of something pretty hard core, but let's be honest, while the main job descriptions stay the same, the problems in the job has far more to do with the politics of the office the higher up you go.
Doing what you are supposed to do: Easy
Doing what you are supposed to do with some tact and team building skills: moderately harder
Doing what you are supposed to WHILE making your boss happy about EVERYTHING: difficult - damn near impossible.
Vice President: "Mr. President, Those assless chaps don't totally make your ass rotund as it makes a powerful statement that you are fearless and constantly looking forward... into the future."
Going on..... I am great because I did this, or I did that... but now I teach 3 year olds and my vocabulary is limited to poop, potty, and "do NOT put that in your mouth!" Try having to do an interview where you can't ever REMEMBER your SAT vocabulary words.... or you mess up dates, or you just can't fucking shut up....
Grr... well, let's just say I DON'T WANT TO TALK ABOUT IT!!!!
Ok, well today, I noticed something else, having nothing to do with the job interview that I was nervous/anxious/excited about then mortified/scared/bewildered about...
At work.
I change kids (all the time). Believe or not 3 year olds have accidents, especially when they are busy having fun... I digress. (SAT WORD!)
I was waiting for a little girl to go potty (a poopy) and when she finished, it smelled. Bad. So I sprayed the febreeze air sanitizer and cracked the door. Well, it so happens I have to go. So I don't even think about it and go in that same bathroom.
Guess what?
I'm a fan of matches, hell, I'll even say crack the door. But NOTHING makes you gag more than when poop/fart smell is SWEETENED with some air freshener like THAT makes it better. Already, your nose doesn't know what to do.
Nose: Do I like this? It's sweet and revolting like the black smelly marker.
Brain: You know what it is, it's poop, with splenda....
Nose: I know but it smells like cinnamon with musk...
Brain: IT'S POOP!!!!!!!!
Nose: I hear you, I just...
Brain: I hate you.
Nose: I hate myself.
Exactly.
Yes, by smarter people, I mean - person, and by smarter person I mean - the one interviewing me for the job.
Put it together - I was at a job interview... so much fun. Trying to get someone to hire you based on a piece of paper that you hopefully constructed so it looks OH-SO-THE-SAME as not too stand out as quirky, but UNIQUE enough to make you stand out... It's a contradiction. Ergo, the reason I think my prior cover letter would work.
Anyway, besides that, it feels like I'm defending a thesis that I wrote YEARS ago. Honestly, I don't remember ALL of the classes I took... sorry, my brain doesn't work like that. AND yes, I was in charge of something pretty hard core, but let's be honest, while the main job descriptions stay the same, the problems in the job has far more to do with the politics of the office the higher up you go.
Doing what you are supposed to do: Easy
Doing what you are supposed to do with some tact and team building skills: moderately harder
Doing what you are supposed to WHILE making your boss happy about EVERYTHING: difficult - damn near impossible.
Vice President: "Mr. President, Those assless chaps don't totally make your ass rotund as it makes a powerful statement that you are fearless and constantly looking forward... into the future."
Going on..... I am great because I did this, or I did that... but now I teach 3 year olds and my vocabulary is limited to poop, potty, and "do NOT put that in your mouth!" Try having to do an interview where you can't ever REMEMBER your SAT vocabulary words.... or you mess up dates, or you just can't fucking shut up....
Grr... well, let's just say I DON'T WANT TO TALK ABOUT IT!!!!
Ok, well today, I noticed something else, having nothing to do with the job interview that I was nervous/anxious/excited about then mortified/scared/bewildered about...
At work.
I change kids (all the time). Believe or not 3 year olds have accidents, especially when they are busy having fun... I digress. (SAT WORD!)
I was waiting for a little girl to go potty (a poopy) and when she finished, it smelled. Bad. So I sprayed the febreeze air sanitizer and cracked the door. Well, it so happens I have to go. So I don't even think about it and go in that same bathroom.
Guess what?
I'm a fan of matches, hell, I'll even say crack the door. But NOTHING makes you gag more than when poop/fart smell is SWEETENED with some air freshener like THAT makes it better. Already, your nose doesn't know what to do.
Nose: Do I like this? It's sweet and revolting like the black smelly marker.
Brain: You know what it is, it's poop, with splenda....
Nose: I know but it smells like cinnamon with musk...
Brain: IT'S POOP!!!!!!!!
Nose: I hear you, I just...
Brain: I hate you.
Nose: I hate myself.
Exactly.
Wednesday, February 9, 2011
Yeah so I'm disgusting...
So there I was... surrounded by sick children. It's winter into spring (but mainly winter in sunny Florida) and kids noses are going to run, when I notice something a little disturbing (besides them eating their buggars)... I can't stand runny noses. I don't mean the whole "man, I'm wiping my nose every three seconds, this sucks" thing. I mean, I look at a kid and if it is runny, I NEED to wipe it off. Bad.
More than a habit, I just hate the look.: A slick clear/yellow/green wetness on the upper lip slowly making its way into the mouth of the child. (I mean, doesn't that make you cringe?)
Not only that, but then if they are unaware, they wipe it and then there it is: this stain like a battle scar across their face as they wage war on the playground.
But EVEN WORSE, when there is a buggar that is a heinous green/goldish color hanging barely out of the nose and the child DOESN'T KNOW HOW TO BLOW OUT!!! And no, in case you were wondering, I am not too above myself to sit there and help them dig it out with a tissue just so I don't have to stare at it... really. I mean, I can deal with poop, pee, excessive baby spit (though luckily I have a rag for that), and vomit (not proud of that one, but I deal) but buggars.... bogeys, snot, moco... nope... sorry even I have limits.
Which makes my next statement strange.
I love popping pimples. Like obsessively. I don't know where the habit came from (though my older sister swears it began with her back acne (don't judge, she lived in miami, played sports, and was blessed with a mix of BOTH my parent's worst pimple genetics). I don't know, I just know when I see one ready to pop... I focus in like a meerkat at dusk. (I don't know if they really focus on anything but I'm pretty sure that's what I look like.)
It's more than just a habit, it's almost a compulsion. I have scarred up my arms pretty bad because of my constant picking *just in case*. I attack my boyfriend's arms, back, neck... ANYTHING that looks like it is festering for a head or ingrown hair that I can defeat. Yes, defeat - this is war and I will conquer.
Me: Who's your daddy?
Pimple: YOU ARE.
Me: That's right, now feel the fingers of destruction!
And then I will of course pull out my sword and do battle.
Now, I won't pop a stranger's pimple, but I will stare and my jaw will clench. Seriously. I'll even imagine popping it or I'll force myself to look away and then look at my own arms to see if there is any pimple-like bump that needs owning.
I found this out because one of my little girls at the day care center had a bug bite and a really bad reaction... At first it looked just like a small bite, then it got this small head but then became MASSIVE....(yes it was infected, no I didn't pop it.... but I wanted to... badly.) I noticed then my habit of clenching my jaw to prevent from squeezing that head of puss to death. It's gross... I KNOW THIS... but... so satisfying.
It's not an exhilarated feeling like finishing a race, or a rush like winning a bet... it's more like the feeling you get when you finish a math problem. You'll do the dirty work but once you get the answer, you know it and you move on to bigger and better things.
So things don't get out of hand here, I don't surf the net to find such disgusting albeit satisfying pimple popping sessions. I did have one sent to me, and I learned my lesson after that. The video was of this guy with this huge cancerous looking bump on his back getting it popped. It was seemingly endless.... HUGE. I watched the WHOLE video. I'm sad to say, I wasn't disgusted... nope... I was jealous.
Hi, My name is Athena, and I'm an addict.
1) Wedding blogs
2) wiping noses
3) popping pimples.... oh my.
More than a habit, I just hate the look.: A slick clear/yellow/green wetness on the upper lip slowly making its way into the mouth of the child. (I mean, doesn't that make you cringe?)
Not only that, but then if they are unaware, they wipe it and then there it is: this stain like a battle scar across their face as they wage war on the playground.
But EVEN WORSE, when there is a buggar that is a heinous green/goldish color hanging barely out of the nose and the child DOESN'T KNOW HOW TO BLOW OUT!!! And no, in case you were wondering, I am not too above myself to sit there and help them dig it out with a tissue just so I don't have to stare at it... really. I mean, I can deal with poop, pee, excessive baby spit (though luckily I have a rag for that), and vomit (not proud of that one, but I deal) but buggars.... bogeys, snot, moco... nope... sorry even I have limits.
Which makes my next statement strange.
I love popping pimples. Like obsessively. I don't know where the habit came from (though my older sister swears it began with her back acne (don't judge, she lived in miami, played sports, and was blessed with a mix of BOTH my parent's worst pimple genetics). I don't know, I just know when I see one ready to pop... I focus in like a meerkat at dusk. (I don't know if they really focus on anything but I'm pretty sure that's what I look like.)
It's more than just a habit, it's almost a compulsion. I have scarred up my arms pretty bad because of my constant picking *just in case*. I attack my boyfriend's arms, back, neck... ANYTHING that looks like it is festering for a head or ingrown hair that I can defeat. Yes, defeat - this is war and I will conquer.
Me: Who's your daddy?
Pimple: YOU ARE.
Me: That's right, now feel the fingers of destruction!
And then I will of course pull out my sword and do battle.
Now, I won't pop a stranger's pimple, but I will stare and my jaw will clench. Seriously. I'll even imagine popping it or I'll force myself to look away and then look at my own arms to see if there is any pimple-like bump that needs owning.
I found this out because one of my little girls at the day care center had a bug bite and a really bad reaction... At first it looked just like a small bite, then it got this small head but then became MASSIVE....(yes it was infected, no I didn't pop it.... but I wanted to... badly.) I noticed then my habit of clenching my jaw to prevent from squeezing that head of puss to death. It's gross... I KNOW THIS... but... so satisfying.
It's not an exhilarated feeling like finishing a race, or a rush like winning a bet... it's more like the feeling you get when you finish a math problem. You'll do the dirty work but once you get the answer, you know it and you move on to bigger and better things.
So things don't get out of hand here, I don't surf the net to find such disgusting albeit satisfying pimple popping sessions. I did have one sent to me, and I learned my lesson after that. The video was of this guy with this huge cancerous looking bump on his back getting it popped. It was seemingly endless.... HUGE. I watched the WHOLE video. I'm sad to say, I wasn't disgusted... nope... I was jealous.
Hi, My name is Athena, and I'm an addict.
1) Wedding blogs
2) wiping noses
3) popping pimples.... oh my.
Wednesday, February 2, 2011
Worst.Week.Ever.
So there I was... surrounded... by an sorrowful heart and empty soul.
Monday:
I couldn't sleep because I had no phone and God knows that I would get a job call the next day.... so I went to Wal-mart to get my rebound phone. Yes, people, I was there before the manager at 6:45 AM... apparently they don't open up THAT shop till 7 AM... whatever, I got my cheap $15 phone and dealt with my issues.
So I go home and continue on my normal day with strangely uncomfortable phone, trying to make this blind date last... (seriously, never worked so hard in my life.) Well, I DID get that phone call!!!
You: What?
Me: Yeah!
You: WHAT?
Me: Yeah... and it was a good job too.
This lady was from a recruiting firm, we clicked immediately. I got the main information down, and thankfully, it was something I've done before and I WAS GOOD AT!!!! YAY!!!
I go to work with a smile and slight skip in my step if I do say so.. EXCITED! Called my bf, told my sister... started paperwork (which if you know me, excites me as well.)
Tuesday: Get up, go to work. I'm gonna be productive. I'm going to run errands on my lunch break. One of them including waxing... yes, I have prior post on waxing.... but let's be honest, do you really care? OF COURSE YOU DO, YOU ARE READING MY BLOG!!! Anyway, this was bad. I mean, the lady that waxes looked at my armpits and I could SEE her mind wandering:
"This chick has let this go... WAY to far"
Well, let's be straight forward.. they were heinous, I knew it HENCE the waxing. The problem was, the ladies face kept telling me this is worse than I thought. SHE FUCKING WAXES FOR A LIVING!! It can't be that bad...
oh yes.
it was.
She looked at me every time she pulled with this face like she was Simon Cowell dealing with terrible singers. It wasn't until I looked at my armpits that I noticed that it was bleeding that it was THAT bad.
Armpits: Hey guys, I think she's trying to get rid of you.
Hairs: No way, we've been around for awhile.
Armpits: I know, that's my point.
Hairs: Well, we bonded, and hair is thicker when its shaved....
Uh, yeah it is.
Well, I was like, that's the worst of my day... nope. I check my messages, and that AMAZING job (did I mention it paid well?) was given a "hold on hiring" before she got to put my name in... thanks God. You're funny.
did I mention I started my period? right. going on.
Wednesday:
Because I was let down, I wasn't going to let it destroy the rest of the week... until I woke up. I freakin turned into Cinderella and started having my mice make me coffee, do my hair... it looked freakin fine.
AND THEN I WOKE UP. Late.
I start to rush to work. I get everything done in like 5 minutes, except my shoes. So I race down the stairs... RACE.... down the stairs.... I FUCKING TRIP. Down the stairs. I slid like 4-5 steps.
1) Start falling
2) Do nothing but fall
3) Realize I'm falling and put my arms down.
4) Hit my phone that is on my ass, and give myself a big ass bruise (yes.)
5) Slam my elbow on the next three steps
6) Charlie-horse my neck trying to keep myself from skidding on my elbows.
7) Hit the ground in front of my shoes
8) sit there.
I sit there with my ass of shame, my elbow skinless and my shoes taunting me that I'm late. Assholes. So what do I do?
I put on my shoes - I'm late.
My bro-in-law opens the door TWO Seconds later and didn't hear a damn thing, and was like, "what are you doing on the floor"
Fuck you dude...
Thursday:
I start on applying to jobs again. AND for the record - if it is PREFERRED it is not mandatory... don't make me jump through hoops just to find out that your supplemental questionnaire has PREFERRED AS MANDATORY.... That's just being an assholish guys. Seriously. Do that shit first, don't waste my time and yours on repeating EVERYTHING on my resume TWICE just to find out that it REALLY doesn't matter...
I digress. So i'm applying for jobs again... I'm stoked, pumping myself up so that I can write another cover letter, and I'm typing typing typing typing... reach for my resume folder...
*splat* COFFEE ALL OVER the table, my computer, and on one of my sister's WHITE chair covers.... I know I'm going to get killed if it gets on her carpet and the rest of the chair covers so I do what any sane person with a healthy fear of their younger sister would do:
I take off my sweatpants and protect my sister's seat covers by making a coffee barrier on the table.
I stand there in my underwear and coffee shame, realizing how crappy my week was, and how this was the epitome of sad, pathetic Theen and her little dog too...
WAIT!!!!!
Side story:
NOW SHE HAD A CRAPPY WEEK LAST WEEK.
So I took her to the vet to get her teeth cleaned. First time, we're both nervous. Apparently, the dog needs to be put to sleep a little before they start putting their hands in their mouths. Go figure.
Anyway, I come back to pick her up and the vet tech was like: It's not as bad as it looks.
Now I'm like:
1) This bitch is going to get it
2) My poor baby!!!
I took the #2 approach. SOOOO... the vet tech had trouble putting her "line" in her leg because her veins were too small... so the vet had to try putting it in her other leg and the VEINS busted. She has a HUGE bruise on her poor front leg... SO they had to finally put it in her back leg and she was fine. The bruise looked horrible...
But, let me mention that I gave my little pup a hair cut on the top of her head because she has an ADORABLE face... well she moved and it looked like I gave her a reverse mohawk. Poor thing had a bald head with big poofy ears... aw well...
No. NOW she has that stupid hair cut but NOW has THREE legs shaved. THREE NOT FOUR. THREE. With a freakin bald spot. She's furry. she looks like a true-to-God-SHEEP.
Return to story:
So I'm standing there in my shame with no pants, a coffee filled table held only by the barrier of my pants and look at my dog... the now Sheep looking dog.
Ok THAT'S when I realized:
worst.week.ever.
Monday:
I couldn't sleep because I had no phone and God knows that I would get a job call the next day.... so I went to Wal-mart to get my rebound phone. Yes, people, I was there before the manager at 6:45 AM... apparently they don't open up THAT shop till 7 AM... whatever, I got my cheap $15 phone and dealt with my issues.
So I go home and continue on my normal day with strangely uncomfortable phone, trying to make this blind date last... (seriously, never worked so hard in my life.) Well, I DID get that phone call!!!
You: What?
Me: Yeah!
You: WHAT?
Me: Yeah... and it was a good job too.
This lady was from a recruiting firm, we clicked immediately. I got the main information down, and thankfully, it was something I've done before and I WAS GOOD AT!!!! YAY!!!
I go to work with a smile and slight skip in my step if I do say so.. EXCITED! Called my bf, told my sister... started paperwork (which if you know me, excites me as well.)
Tuesday: Get up, go to work. I'm gonna be productive. I'm going to run errands on my lunch break. One of them including waxing... yes, I have prior post on waxing.... but let's be honest, do you really care? OF COURSE YOU DO, YOU ARE READING MY BLOG!!! Anyway, this was bad. I mean, the lady that waxes looked at my armpits and I could SEE her mind wandering:
"This chick has let this go... WAY to far"
Well, let's be straight forward.. they were heinous, I knew it HENCE the waxing. The problem was, the ladies face kept telling me this is worse than I thought. SHE FUCKING WAXES FOR A LIVING!! It can't be that bad...
oh yes.
it was.
She looked at me every time she pulled with this face like she was Simon Cowell dealing with terrible singers. It wasn't until I looked at my armpits that I noticed that it was bleeding that it was THAT bad.
Armpits: Hey guys, I think she's trying to get rid of you.
Hairs: No way, we've been around for awhile.
Armpits: I know, that's my point.
Hairs: Well, we bonded, and hair is thicker when its shaved....
Uh, yeah it is.
Well, I was like, that's the worst of my day... nope. I check my messages, and that AMAZING job (did I mention it paid well?) was given a "hold on hiring" before she got to put my name in... thanks God. You're funny.
did I mention I started my period? right. going on.
Wednesday:
Because I was let down, I wasn't going to let it destroy the rest of the week... until I woke up. I freakin turned into Cinderella and started having my mice make me coffee, do my hair... it looked freakin fine.
AND THEN I WOKE UP. Late.
I start to rush to work. I get everything done in like 5 minutes, except my shoes. So I race down the stairs... RACE.... down the stairs.... I FUCKING TRIP. Down the stairs. I slid like 4-5 steps.
1) Start falling
2) Do nothing but fall
3) Realize I'm falling and put my arms down.
4) Hit my phone that is on my ass, and give myself a big ass bruise (yes.)
5) Slam my elbow on the next three steps
6) Charlie-horse my neck trying to keep myself from skidding on my elbows.
7) Hit the ground in front of my shoes
8) sit there.
I sit there with my ass of shame, my elbow skinless and my shoes taunting me that I'm late. Assholes. So what do I do?
I put on my shoes - I'm late.
My bro-in-law opens the door TWO Seconds later and didn't hear a damn thing, and was like, "what are you doing on the floor"
Fuck you dude...
Thursday:
I start on applying to jobs again. AND for the record - if it is PREFERRED it is not mandatory... don't make me jump through hoops just to find out that your supplemental questionnaire has PREFERRED AS MANDATORY.... That's just being an assholish guys. Seriously. Do that shit first, don't waste my time and yours on repeating EVERYTHING on my resume TWICE just to find out that it REALLY doesn't matter...
I digress. So i'm applying for jobs again... I'm stoked, pumping myself up so that I can write another cover letter, and I'm typing typing typing typing... reach for my resume folder...
*splat* COFFEE ALL OVER the table, my computer, and on one of my sister's WHITE chair covers.... I know I'm going to get killed if it gets on her carpet and the rest of the chair covers so I do what any sane person with a healthy fear of their younger sister would do:
I take off my sweatpants and protect my sister's seat covers by making a coffee barrier on the table.
I stand there in my underwear and coffee shame, realizing how crappy my week was, and how this was the epitome of sad, pathetic Theen and her little dog too...
WAIT!!!!!
Side story:
NOW SHE HAD A CRAPPY WEEK LAST WEEK.
So I took her to the vet to get her teeth cleaned. First time, we're both nervous. Apparently, the dog needs to be put to sleep a little before they start putting their hands in their mouths. Go figure.
Anyway, I come back to pick her up and the vet tech was like: It's not as bad as it looks.
Now I'm like:
1) This bitch is going to get it
2) My poor baby!!!
I took the #2 approach. SOOOO... the vet tech had trouble putting her "line" in her leg because her veins were too small... so the vet had to try putting it in her other leg and the VEINS busted. She has a HUGE bruise on her poor front leg... SO they had to finally put it in her back leg and she was fine. The bruise looked horrible...
But, let me mention that I gave my little pup a hair cut on the top of her head because she has an ADORABLE face... well she moved and it looked like I gave her a reverse mohawk. Poor thing had a bald head with big poofy ears... aw well...
No. NOW she has that stupid hair cut but NOW has THREE legs shaved. THREE NOT FOUR. THREE. With a freakin bald spot. She's furry. she looks like a true-to-God-SHEEP.
Return to story:
So I'm standing there in my shame with no pants, a coffee filled table held only by the barrier of my pants and look at my dog... the now Sheep looking dog.
Ok THAT'S when I realized:
worst.week.ever.
Thursday, January 27, 2011
So what if it was a relationshit?
So there I was... surrounded.... by suffering of an empty heart. I decided to write this blog because I know its a little soon for me to replace my new phone, but I'm a bit needy at the moment and I don't want you judging me.
I know many of you think that sometimes losing a phone is not a big deal, especially my crappy phone but let me tell you, just like i told my boyfriend, "I'VE HAD A RELATIONSHIP WITH THAN PHONE LONGER THAN MY DOG, I'll deal with this how I deal with it."
We've been through ALOT together. It's a big deal. Here's why:
1) I mean, even when we separated because I thought I would upgrade and move on - those upgrades wouldn't last. It was like my energy took over and they couldn't handle it. So I, sometimes shamefully, returned to my true blue. But my phone always forgave me, and we moved on.
2) It was like a year book that knew all my friends. It had numbers of my friends from high school that I would only talk to when I mistakenly called OR when I was shit faced and realized they were on my phone. I don't think it's that bad that we don't talk, our lives are different, but my phone was the one keeping us together. How thoughtful is that?
3) It's my college phone. I've memorized every button on its face, it knows all my non-predictive most used words. I knew its funky little things, probably because of my dropping it quite a bit, and it knew how I preferred my set up. I mean, that's a dance that time is the only teacher.
So it's ok if I'm having a hard time letting go. It's a natural step, but don't push me, and don't ask me to NOT have these feelings. I'm working on it and y'know give me space. I'll move on in my own time, and I will find a good phone, one that will treat me with the respect that I deserve and will provide me with better applications and internet access... but right now, right now... I just need a rebound phone.
I know many of you think that sometimes losing a phone is not a big deal, especially my crappy phone but let me tell you, just like i told my boyfriend, "I'VE HAD A RELATIONSHIP WITH THAN PHONE LONGER THAN MY DOG, I'll deal with this how I deal with it."
We've been through ALOT together. It's a big deal. Here's why:
1) I mean, even when we separated because I thought I would upgrade and move on - those upgrades wouldn't last. It was like my energy took over and they couldn't handle it. So I, sometimes shamefully, returned to my true blue. But my phone always forgave me, and we moved on.
2) It was like a year book that knew all my friends. It had numbers of my friends from high school that I would only talk to when I mistakenly called OR when I was shit faced and realized they were on my phone. I don't think it's that bad that we don't talk, our lives are different, but my phone was the one keeping us together. How thoughtful is that?
3) It's my college phone. I've memorized every button on its face, it knows all my non-predictive most used words. I knew its funky little things, probably because of my dropping it quite a bit, and it knew how I preferred my set up. I mean, that's a dance that time is the only teacher.
So it's ok if I'm having a hard time letting go. It's a natural step, but don't push me, and don't ask me to NOT have these feelings. I'm working on it and y'know give me space. I'll move on in my own time, and I will find a good phone, one that will treat me with the respect that I deserve and will provide me with better applications and internet access... but right now, right now... I just need a rebound phone.
Monday, January 24, 2011
Grinding my teeth....
So there I was... surrounded.... by boxes and moving equipment and it occurs to me: I hate this.
Now, if you know me, you know I move around pretty consistently every year or two, so it would seem that this would be something I would at least get used to and not hate with a passion... nope (shaking head), I still loathe it. I hate moving other people's stuff MORE than my own because I can't even through away their shit. (Though I love my sister dearly - she's the one I helped move - it's a personal thing and has nothing to do with her... love you len.)
It's the putting stuff in boxes, trying to play tetris with ceramics, and finding shit that I would totally throw away and I CANNOT because it's not mine... I mean you learn alot about people when you move them....
1) When was the last time they went through their freezer.
2) How many clothes they REALLY have (shoes included)
3) What sentimental or "important" documents really need to be kept... (this reminds me of an old roommate who kept all paperwork for like 5 years... for no reason, just in case)
4) Fetishes
DO NOT get me started on people with knick knacks... I FREAKIN HATE those... I want to grab all of them and break and burn them in the backyard while I chant naked to the GODS of broken precious moment dolls.
Me? well, I know I have annoying habits... I keep notebooks. Empty ones, and pretty paper... or just lined paper. I DON'T KNOW WHY. I think deep down if the apocalypse came, I would have all the paper in the world and that gives me INFINITE POWER!!! or I just like paper... who knows? I try throwing it away. I stare at it and put it in the waste basket, but I'm like, that is such a waste... I could USE that (which all hoarders say I'm sure).
I'm a cookbook pack rat.I love them, to a point of obsession. I like looking at food... I don't need to cook it to know that it is delicious, (not that I would because I don't cook THAT often...) I just need to see it, and know that somewhere in the world, someone made this and died of joy. If by chance I need a recipe for eel, I got it... why use the internet when I can go through 25 cookbooks (WITH PICTURES!) to find it.
Ok, I'll move on because I'm thinking about all the moving and I'm started to want to go on a rampage and get arrested in the backyard.
Anyway, after all the moving this weekend, it felt good to just get it over with. The unpacking doesn't really bother me, it's like christmas with your own stuff. :) My sister, bro-in-law and me head out and I lost/got my phone stolen at a gas station in Naples.
I HATE loosing stuff. I HATE HATE HATE people that steal stuff... and my phone is old. I mean I've had it longer than my dog. Yes, it's old, I get it... I'm an old person that gets cranky about technology, "hey woodchucks, stop chuckin' my wood" but I don't NEED a lot of stuff on my phone. I call and text. That's it.
NOW WHO IN THEIR RIGHT MIND WOULD STEAL MY PHONE? Children's play phones have more options on their phones than mine. I know, I've played with them. I mean, it doesn't even have cool stuff like awesome games. I might have snake. WHO IS SO DESPERATE FOR A PHONE THAT THEY WOULD STEAL MINE? You can get a nicer phone for $.97 at WALMART with a two year activation fee. (I know, I looked.) This is like moving, it's stupid that I kept it, but it was mine, and it had EXTREME EMOTIONAL VALUE. I'm still kinda ticked about that. The ONE pciture of my dog was PRICELESS... I will NEVER get it back... and for that stranger that stole my phone instead of returning it to the front counter, I hope you trip and break your nose so that Michael Jackson will make fun of you, or get herpes.
Which leads me to the last thing I HATE that this weekend caused. I realized I need another job because with all this moving and needing to replace phones... it all costs money...
Cover letters. I hate cover letters more than a mayo based sauce (I'm not going to say mayo because I hate that more but a mayo based sauce is equally as distasteful). I really sit there trying to think of ways to say I deserve this job and this is what I come up with:
Dear Employer,
I'm awesome.
Respectfully amazing,
me.
That's all they want to hear anyway. or:
Dear The Man,
I can do this job better than most. Pay me a lot.
Thank me,
me.
It's like the cover letter dance is worse than the first date dance because, you have to put everything out there but then what surprises do you have to come back with. Personally, I do better with interviews (on occasion, I've had the "I really should keep my mouth shut" moments.) I need to make people laugh, that's just my thing... But seriously, its as bad as eHarmony except you DON'T get a face shot.
Grrr... this blog sucks. I know because I just got charged by a fat dachshund who's face looks at me with me great disappointment. She almost knocked me off my chair.
Now, if you know me, you know I move around pretty consistently every year or two, so it would seem that this would be something I would at least get used to and not hate with a passion... nope (shaking head), I still loathe it. I hate moving other people's stuff MORE than my own because I can't even through away their shit. (Though I love my sister dearly - she's the one I helped move - it's a personal thing and has nothing to do with her... love you len.)
It's the putting stuff in boxes, trying to play tetris with ceramics, and finding shit that I would totally throw away and I CANNOT because it's not mine... I mean you learn alot about people when you move them....
1) When was the last time they went through their freezer.
2) How many clothes they REALLY have (shoes included)
3) What sentimental or "important" documents really need to be kept... (this reminds me of an old roommate who kept all paperwork for like 5 years... for no reason, just in case)
4) Fetishes
DO NOT get me started on people with knick knacks... I FREAKIN HATE those... I want to grab all of them and break and burn them in the backyard while I chant naked to the GODS of broken precious moment dolls.
Me? well, I know I have annoying habits... I keep notebooks. Empty ones, and pretty paper... or just lined paper. I DON'T KNOW WHY. I think deep down if the apocalypse came, I would have all the paper in the world and that gives me INFINITE POWER!!! or I just like paper... who knows? I try throwing it away. I stare at it and put it in the waste basket, but I'm like, that is such a waste... I could USE that (which all hoarders say I'm sure).
I'm a cookbook pack rat.I love them, to a point of obsession. I like looking at food... I don't need to cook it to know that it is delicious, (not that I would because I don't cook THAT often...) I just need to see it, and know that somewhere in the world, someone made this and died of joy. If by chance I need a recipe for eel, I got it... why use the internet when I can go through 25 cookbooks (WITH PICTURES!) to find it.
Ok, I'll move on because I'm thinking about all the moving and I'm started to want to go on a rampage and get arrested in the backyard.
Anyway, after all the moving this weekend, it felt good to just get it over with. The unpacking doesn't really bother me, it's like christmas with your own stuff. :) My sister, bro-in-law and me head out and I lost/got my phone stolen at a gas station in Naples.
I HATE loosing stuff. I HATE HATE HATE people that steal stuff... and my phone is old. I mean I've had it longer than my dog. Yes, it's old, I get it... I'm an old person that gets cranky about technology, "hey woodchucks, stop chuckin' my wood" but I don't NEED a lot of stuff on my phone. I call and text. That's it.
NOW WHO IN THEIR RIGHT MIND WOULD STEAL MY PHONE? Children's play phones have more options on their phones than mine. I know, I've played with them. I mean, it doesn't even have cool stuff like awesome games. I might have snake. WHO IS SO DESPERATE FOR A PHONE THAT THEY WOULD STEAL MINE? You can get a nicer phone for $.97 at WALMART with a two year activation fee. (I know, I looked.) This is like moving, it's stupid that I kept it, but it was mine, and it had EXTREME EMOTIONAL VALUE. I'm still kinda ticked about that. The ONE pciture of my dog was PRICELESS... I will NEVER get it back... and for that stranger that stole my phone instead of returning it to the front counter, I hope you trip and break your nose so that Michael Jackson will make fun of you, or get herpes.
Which leads me to the last thing I HATE that this weekend caused. I realized I need another job because with all this moving and needing to replace phones... it all costs money...
Cover letters. I hate cover letters more than a mayo based sauce (I'm not going to say mayo because I hate that more but a mayo based sauce is equally as distasteful). I really sit there trying to think of ways to say I deserve this job and this is what I come up with:
Dear Employer,
I'm awesome.
Respectfully amazing,
me.
That's all they want to hear anyway. or:
Dear The Man,
I can do this job better than most. Pay me a lot.
Thank me,
me.
It's like the cover letter dance is worse than the first date dance because, you have to put everything out there but then what surprises do you have to come back with. Personally, I do better with interviews (on occasion, I've had the "I really should keep my mouth shut" moments.) I need to make people laugh, that's just my thing... But seriously, its as bad as eHarmony except you DON'T get a face shot.
Grrr... this blog sucks. I know because I just got charged by a fat dachshund who's face looks at me with me great disappointment. She almost knocked me off my chair.
Thursday, January 13, 2011
It's a jungle out there
Sorry folks, I haven't been on, because my brain has not been looking at the world normally... yes, my amusement meter went down. SO TODAY, I decided to turn it back on...
wow.
So, you know I work with three year olds right? I love three year olds. They are like humans with no concept of social awkwardness or filters in general... (almost as good as two year olds... almost.)
I noticed a few things... because we are learning about animals, I started noticing some similarities in the tiny humans I work with and the entirety of survival in the animal kingdom.
Here I go:
1. We are vicious when it comes to ownership. It doesn't matter how NICE the kid is, how well behaved they are, they will slap a bitch for taking his/her toy. ...ONE block even if they have all but that one block. It's not about whether or not its necessary for building... I touched it first, I own it. (This is also a variation on the children that spit or lick something to claim ownership as well... and men never grow out of this faze... thanks Freud, I'm sure this has deeper meaning.)
2. Being modest is a human thing, we don't naturally have it. If you have to go, you have to go... I get it. My sister has a term "right now" for those moments when turtle heads are become full grown tortoises. Yup I said it.
Anyway, I can't tell you how many times I've seen a kid RUN out of the bathroom with his/her pants down, to let me know they went poop. OR even better, when they inform me with their pants up, and then I asked if they wipe... and they shuffle back in there... OR when they call me to the bathroom to tell me they pooped, and they need help to wipe... yes, that happens... I almost prefer that then having the find the kid whose skid marks are a full wreck and wrecking havoc on my sensitive nose, and it's everywhere but being somehow contained by a pair of superman undies... so he does have some power...
3. We eat anything. Trust me. I know a kid who hates green beans, but eats his buggars like its going out of style. It doesn't make sense... I'm like, they are the same color, probably around the same consistency (the canned kind), and salty... where is the line?... THERE ISN'T ONE. My sisters dogs lick each other's ears and eye gook... I'm sure if a three year old liked the taste.... "come here Fido... I want a snack." I mean... and that's leaving out the adventures of trying mudpies, leaf soup, and mulch cake.
You are probably thinking, "nope, I was not that kid"... well, let's see, did you ever play with play-do? That's what I thought, you tried it, and that kid, sitting next to you, he ate his buggars and didn't wash his hands before he was forced to share some of his play-do with you....
Yummy.
Don't you dare judge: Think about it, one day, a long time ago, someone looked at a cow and said, "I tried your milk... but let's be honest, you've got a sweet rib cage..." or look at the pig (fun fact: the animal that goes feral the most easily and survives bitches) and say, "you eat anything... I guess I can eat you."
It probably went like this:
Man: Mr. Chicken, you've been a great companion this whole time.
Chicken: Thanks man, you too.
Man: You've provided me with eggs, feathers, and you are the best wing man ever.
Chicken: Yeah, we've been through a lot, feeding you, helping you make head dresses, getting you ready for the ladies....
Man: ...yeah... but when I said wing man.. I meant I'm drawn to them... they look delicious.
Chicken: I do not like where this is going.
End scene.
4. Now, that's not to say, we are just gross, selfish beings... its just we come from heartier stalk than we remember... y'know before we had standards and sensibilities. We still naturally create a hierarchy. "Coolness" as not such a factor with three year olds as being ballsy enough to say "Fart" in front of your teacher or having gained more than one a sticker on your shirt (yes, even if you have to steal it). But more about conforming to your friends. If one kid says "poop", and gets away with it, they all try. If I say, "I like the way our friend is sitting so quietly with his hands in his lap", the kids will do that too...
We are social beings that want love and attention as well as support from our peers. No wonder high school is such a killer of souls... usually its the idiot who is the most vocal about their exploits and peer pressure is a bitch. Just ask the guys who inhaled fire ants as an homage to Ozzy... (Disturbingly, though not surprisingly, they died due to the inflammation of the ant bites in the nasal cavity.... true story: watch a 1000 ways to die.) *Insert breeding joke here.
5. Now, the one thing I do love about three year olds and animals in general. They are not grudge holders... yes, they will throw a tantrum, and they WILL let you know that "YOU CAN'T COME TO MY HOUSE!" and sometimes, they will poop in retaliation... But, they'll calm down and give you a hug and a kiss and still tell you they love you. My heart melts every time... I can only imagine when I have children what kind of feeling that will be.
Unless of course they decide to eat their buggars and kiss me on the mouth...
wow.
So, you know I work with three year olds right? I love three year olds. They are like humans with no concept of social awkwardness or filters in general... (almost as good as two year olds... almost.)
I noticed a few things... because we are learning about animals, I started noticing some similarities in the tiny humans I work with and the entirety of survival in the animal kingdom.
Here I go:
1. We are vicious when it comes to ownership. It doesn't matter how NICE the kid is, how well behaved they are, they will slap a bitch for taking his/her toy. ...ONE block even if they have all but that one block. It's not about whether or not its necessary for building... I touched it first, I own it. (This is also a variation on the children that spit or lick something to claim ownership as well... and men never grow out of this faze... thanks Freud, I'm sure this has deeper meaning.)
2. Being modest is a human thing, we don't naturally have it. If you have to go, you have to go... I get it. My sister has a term "right now" for those moments when turtle heads are become full grown tortoises. Yup I said it.
Anyway, I can't tell you how many times I've seen a kid RUN out of the bathroom with his/her pants down, to let me know they went poop. OR even better, when they inform me with their pants up, and then I asked if they wipe... and they shuffle back in there... OR when they call me to the bathroom to tell me they pooped, and they need help to wipe... yes, that happens... I almost prefer that then having the find the kid whose skid marks are a full wreck and wrecking havoc on my sensitive nose, and it's everywhere but being somehow contained by a pair of superman undies... so he does have some power...
3. We eat anything. Trust me. I know a kid who hates green beans, but eats his buggars like its going out of style. It doesn't make sense... I'm like, they are the same color, probably around the same consistency (the canned kind), and salty... where is the line?... THERE ISN'T ONE. My sisters dogs lick each other's ears and eye gook... I'm sure if a three year old liked the taste.... "come here Fido... I want a snack." I mean... and that's leaving out the adventures of trying mudpies, leaf soup, and mulch cake.
You are probably thinking, "nope, I was not that kid"... well, let's see, did you ever play with play-do? That's what I thought, you tried it, and that kid, sitting next to you, he ate his buggars and didn't wash his hands before he was forced to share some of his play-do with you....
Yummy.
Don't you dare judge: Think about it, one day, a long time ago, someone looked at a cow and said, "I tried your milk... but let's be honest, you've got a sweet rib cage..." or look at the pig (fun fact: the animal that goes feral the most easily and survives bitches) and say, "you eat anything... I guess I can eat you."
It probably went like this:
Man: Mr. Chicken, you've been a great companion this whole time.
Chicken: Thanks man, you too.
Man: You've provided me with eggs, feathers, and you are the best wing man ever.
Chicken: Yeah, we've been through a lot, feeding you, helping you make head dresses, getting you ready for the ladies....
Man: ...yeah... but when I said wing man.. I meant I'm drawn to them... they look delicious.
Chicken: I do not like where this is going.
End scene.
4. Now, that's not to say, we are just gross, selfish beings... its just we come from heartier stalk than we remember... y'know before we had standards and sensibilities. We still naturally create a hierarchy. "Coolness" as not such a factor with three year olds as being ballsy enough to say "Fart" in front of your teacher or having gained more than one a sticker on your shirt (yes, even if you have to steal it). But more about conforming to your friends. If one kid says "poop", and gets away with it, they all try. If I say, "I like the way our friend is sitting so quietly with his hands in his lap", the kids will do that too...
We are social beings that want love and attention as well as support from our peers. No wonder high school is such a killer of souls... usually its the idiot who is the most vocal about their exploits and peer pressure is a bitch. Just ask the guys who inhaled fire ants as an homage to Ozzy... (Disturbingly, though not surprisingly, they died due to the inflammation of the ant bites in the nasal cavity.... true story: watch a 1000 ways to die.) *Insert breeding joke here.
5. Now, the one thing I do love about three year olds and animals in general. They are not grudge holders... yes, they will throw a tantrum, and they WILL let you know that "YOU CAN'T COME TO MY HOUSE!" and sometimes, they will poop in retaliation... But, they'll calm down and give you a hug and a kiss and still tell you they love you. My heart melts every time... I can only imagine when I have children what kind of feeling that will be.
Unless of course they decide to eat their buggars and kiss me on the mouth...
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