I work for a fancy TV station... or at least the only one we really have here in cowtown. It has its ups and its downs, its crappy camera shots and "Shit!" moments with the tape decks, and of course its fair share of beautiful people to gawk at. (Okay, not really. They hired me... come on.) It also has some great email moments. I had a camera shift during the 10 o'clock news tonight and I had nothing better to do, so I copied and pasted some great email moments and sent them to myself. It was the first personal email I've received in about two years. Being anti-social: It's my verb.
Example 1:
"We are missing 6 blocks of cheese and 2 packages of bacon from the downstairs refrigerator. Please return it immediately.
This will be considered a theft if not returned."
I don't know about you guys, but I don't want cheese theft on my permanent record. I have important things to do with my life. As for the bacon, there are a few people who work there who would probably enjoy playing with pig carcass. You know who you are.
Example 2:
"There will be a RV and trailer parked out back by the sat yard fence which will be there till Friday. Please don’t call the police or a tow truck or freak out because it’s there, because the owner has been given approval to park there till Friday."
I always freak out and call the police when I see RV's. You know who usually drives them? Old people. I'm watching you, old people. Can you imagine the 911 call?
"911. What is your emergency?"
"There's an RV in our parking lot. I wouldn't have called, but anyone who would voluntarily RV to Twin Falls is obviously mentally imbalanced. Send someone soon before they kill us... or feed us green jello."
Sunday, November 29, 2009
Tuesday, September 29, 2009
Facebook Games: The Anti-Having to Go Outside in Idaho
This was a fun facebook game, and it helped me delve even further into my current Beatles obsession. My neighbors thought I had calmed down and realized other music existed back in July. Little did they know, it was only a ruse...
Here's the game:
Using only song names from ONE ARTIST, answer these questions.
Pass it on to a few people you like and include me.
You can't use the band I used.
Try not to repeat a song title
Pick your artist:
The Beatles
Are you a male or a female:
Another Girl
Describe yourself.
Everybody's Got Something to Hide Except Me and My Monkey
How do you feel?
Money (That's What I Want)
Describe where you currently live.
Yellow Submarine
If you could go anywhere, where would you go?
Across the Universe
Your favorite form of transportation:
Blackbird
Your best friend is?
Mean Mr. Mustard
You and your best friends are:
Piggies
What's the weather like?
Here Comes the Sun
What's your favorite time?
Any Time at All
If your life was a T.V. show, what would it be called?
Happiness is a Warm Gun
What is life to you?
You Won't See Me
Your last relationship:
Don't Bother Me
Your current relationship:
For No One
Your fear:
I Am the Walrus
What is the best advice you have to give?
All You Need is Love
Thought for the day:
Think for Yourself
How would you like to die:
Run for Your Life
Your soul's present condition:
I'm Looking Through You
Your motto:
I Me Mine
Here's the game:
Using only song names from ONE ARTIST, answer these questions.
Pass it on to a few people you like and include me.
You can't use the band I used.
Try not to repeat a song title
Pick your artist:
The Beatles
Are you a male or a female:
Another Girl
Describe yourself.
Everybody's Got Something to Hide Except Me and My Monkey
How do you feel?
Money (That's What I Want)
Describe where you currently live.
Yellow Submarine
If you could go anywhere, where would you go?
Across the Universe
Your favorite form of transportation:
Blackbird
Your best friend is?
Mean Mr. Mustard
You and your best friends are:
Piggies
What's the weather like?
Here Comes the Sun
What's your favorite time?
Any Time at All
If your life was a T.V. show, what would it be called?
Happiness is a Warm Gun
What is life to you?
You Won't See Me
Your last relationship:
Don't Bother Me
Your current relationship:
For No One
Your fear:
I Am the Walrus
What is the best advice you have to give?
All You Need is Love
Thought for the day:
Think for Yourself
How would you like to die:
Run for Your Life
Your soul's present condition:
I'm Looking Through You
Your motto:
I Me Mine
Saturday, September 5, 2009
Fun Ways to Get Canned
So, as I was standing around at work today, flashing my trademark "I'm so happy I will kill you" smile, I got to thinking about when I will finally have enough money saved to quit and get the hell out of here. Oh, that blessed day. It can't come soon enough. Anyway, I've never been fired before. I've never burned any bridges. It's time for a change. This job may have to get the Looney Toon TNT treatment. Here are various methods of getting canned that I have devised. I will tell you in one to five months if I decide to utilize one of them.
1) Pulling a Jim Halpert and putting a table saw in jello. It would require dedication and actually learning to make something in the kitchen without burning it down, but I'm ready for it.
2) Leaving an anonymous parcel in a particular manager's box. It will include a contact card for a surgeon, along with a note saying, "If you ever decide to seek surgical consult for that telephone pole shoved up your butt." Actually, I'd need one for each manager's box.
3) Suddenly wearing a Home Depot shirt to work, acting disoriented, and telling my managers to stop joking around. "Come on, where'd you get these Lowe's vests? Who the hell would shop there?"
4) Going across the street to WinCo and systematically switching all of our carts with theirs, leaving sales flyers for each store in said carts.
5) Removing all the loss prevention tags from tools and putting them on sodas and seed packets.
6) Paging "clean up on aisle six" every five minutes until there actually is a clean up needed on aisle six; then telling the customer that we don't do that.
7) Removing all the toilet paper from all of the bathroom stalls and then scolding customers for complaining about it. "We care about the environment here. Use the Xlerator hand dryer, you tree killer!"
8) Paging the manager on duty to random aisles from different phones and with different voices until he gives up. Then telling the regional manager that said manager blatantly ignored calls for help. Advocate a sit down with him about his priorities.
9) Calling in with as many ridiculous reasons as you can imagine. "My dog took a bite of my ice cream. I had to buy some more. They were out of my favorite flavor at the grocery store, so I had to go to Nevada." "My cat sneezed on me, so I tried to disinfect my face. I sprayed too much, and now I'm dead." "My goldfish died yesterday and we're having a service for it tonight at the McDonald's bathroom. I'm too distraught to come in."
10) Pushing big blue lumber carts into displays repeatedly, blaming "equilibrium issues."
1) Pulling a Jim Halpert and putting a table saw in jello. It would require dedication and actually learning to make something in the kitchen without burning it down, but I'm ready for it.
2) Leaving an anonymous parcel in a particular manager's box. It will include a contact card for a surgeon, along with a note saying, "If you ever decide to seek surgical consult for that telephone pole shoved up your butt." Actually, I'd need one for each manager's box.
3) Suddenly wearing a Home Depot shirt to work, acting disoriented, and telling my managers to stop joking around. "Come on, where'd you get these Lowe's vests? Who the hell would shop there?"
4) Going across the street to WinCo and systematically switching all of our carts with theirs, leaving sales flyers for each store in said carts.
5) Removing all the loss prevention tags from tools and putting them on sodas and seed packets.
6) Paging "clean up on aisle six" every five minutes until there actually is a clean up needed on aisle six; then telling the customer that we don't do that.
7) Removing all the toilet paper from all of the bathroom stalls and then scolding customers for complaining about it. "We care about the environment here. Use the Xlerator hand dryer, you tree killer!"
8) Paging the manager on duty to random aisles from different phones and with different voices until he gives up. Then telling the regional manager that said manager blatantly ignored calls for help. Advocate a sit down with him about his priorities.
9) Calling in with as many ridiculous reasons as you can imagine. "My dog took a bite of my ice cream. I had to buy some more. They were out of my favorite flavor at the grocery store, so I had to go to Nevada." "My cat sneezed on me, so I tried to disinfect my face. I sprayed too much, and now I'm dead." "My goldfish died yesterday and we're having a service for it tonight at the McDonald's bathroom. I'm too distraught to come in."
10) Pushing big blue lumber carts into displays repeatedly, blaming "equilibrium issues."
Thursday, September 3, 2009
You know you're from Idaho when...
Come on, we all do these about our home states. I'll post Idaho's as a means of representing the dozen people who live here... and the cows. Oh, the cows.
You know you're from Idaho when...
1) You complain about the traffic jam because there's one biker and two pick-ups ahead of you.
2) All the locals who have never lived outside of Idaho are shocked by your life choice as a spinster when you're 21 and not married.
3) If you don't have kids by 23, you are reminded by the town's old ladies that your biological clock is ticking.
4) Ninety per cent of the job openings are at Mexican, Italian, Japanese, or Chinese restaurants that are all run by German/Irish-Americans named Jim Bob.
5) The town is 100% aware of all of your actions the previous night, even before you wake up with a nasty hangover and enveloped in a faint smell of cow.
6) You're pretty excited when you go to a town with a Taco Bell.
7) The only winter month pastime is doing figure 8's in an icy parking lot.
8) Wal-Marts are open 24 hours. It's the go to hot spot.
9) You try to count the cows you see during a drive, but then realize that driving with your head turned back for two minutes isn't a good idea. You turn your head back in a rush, and readjust yourself to the straight road... with no one on it.
10) Only four people understand you when you make a list like this.
You know you're from Idaho when...
1) You complain about the traffic jam because there's one biker and two pick-ups ahead of you.
2) All the locals who have never lived outside of Idaho are shocked by your life choice as a spinster when you're 21 and not married.
3) If you don't have kids by 23, you are reminded by the town's old ladies that your biological clock is ticking.
4) Ninety per cent of the job openings are at Mexican, Italian, Japanese, or Chinese restaurants that are all run by German/Irish-Americans named Jim Bob.
5) The town is 100% aware of all of your actions the previous night, even before you wake up with a nasty hangover and enveloped in a faint smell of cow.
6) You're pretty excited when you go to a town with a Taco Bell.
7) The only winter month pastime is doing figure 8's in an icy parking lot.
8) Wal-Marts are open 24 hours. It's the go to hot spot.
9) You try to count the cows you see during a drive, but then realize that driving with your head turned back for two minutes isn't a good idea. You turn your head back in a rush, and readjust yourself to the straight road... with no one on it.
10) Only four people understand you when you make a list like this.
Monday, August 31, 2009
How to Survive Retail and Still Maintain a Clean Criminal Record
So as is generally the case in my life, when something has me down, I make as much fun of it as possible. This includes my crappy post-college grad job at Lowe's. I decided to write a book about it. It will likely never be published, but that will lead to my next book: Why Will Publishers Print Twilight and Not My Ingenious Literary Endeavors? Anyway, here are the prologue and the first chapter. They're short. Enjoy them. Commiserate with me. Continue to not read Twilight.
Prologue - So You’ve Landed a Retail Job
Maybe you’re a high school student landing your very first job. Maybe you’re a college student just trying to afford those books you’re never going to read. Maybe you’ve just graduated college and your philosophy degree is not appealing to employers. Maybe you’re just trying to make ends meet. Either way, you’ve found yourself in a retail job.
As you don your brightly colored smock, you sit down in the training room ready to embark on your new, exciting, slightly above minimum wage job. You’re not sure what to expect. I’m here to help ease you into this jarring experience, and tell you just what you need to do to stay alive.
Chapter One - Staying Awake During Training
In your first few hours, days, or weeks, depending on how much your employer enjoys wasting the time of new employees, you will be training. You’ll probably be with a group of other unfortunates who find themselves in the same break room, getting ready to fill out W-2’s and drown their sorrows in a jar of peanut butter later. You’ll awkwardly play “My Life Story in 20 Seconds,” where one person will inevitably share way too much, and those nearest that person will subtly move their chairs away and pretend to be very interested in the clicky pen they were just given.
As soon as this session of TMI 101 and filling out paperwork that no one actually reads is finished, it’s time for the intro video. This video will undoubtedly be hosted by someone who took 25 anti-depression pills or just drank 35 quarts of Kool-Aid. It depends on whether or not their random employee drug tests are going to be administered any time soon.
The video will cover the amazing benefits of the health insurance they offer. A deductible of only $150,000! After working there for a period of only 57 years, you’ll be able to cover that! If you’re part-time, you won’t be eligible. You will, however, get an exciting partial-benefit. You’ll get more information on this later.
It will also cover the best way to approach customer service. Armed with the smile of a homicidal clown, the host will ask each customer will the enthusiasm of a coked up Mr. Rogers if they need any help. The customer will ask them something, and the host will immediately know every single detail of all the products available. He will spew out more information than an encyclopedia article on the topic will produce. Finally, he will thank the customer and tell them to come again. The tone of his voice is reassuring. It carries with it an air of, “Come again, so we can harvest your organs.”
He will then introduce the exact same scenario 37 times. Three days later, it will finish and you will be given a quiz. This will consist of everyone exchanging answers after the training manager leaves the room. Everyone will miraculously get 100%. The hiring manager will be extremely impressed. This is one of the best training sessions they’ve ever administered!
Not too long after this, you’ll be shown the loss prevention video. You are told that you are never, under any circumstances, to follow someone who set off the EAS alarm to their car. You are also definitely not supposed to get into your car and follow them home. This is unacceptable behavior. You’re also not supposed to tackle them. I mean, geeze, people, where do you get these ideas? It’s clear that these training sessions are designed for fiends such as yourselves.
The loss prevention video will also show you that it’s never a good idea to steal from your company. The manager administering the video will then mean to subtly scan the room for signs of fear or defiance, but they will be the only person to actually think no one notices. They’re trying to weed out the bad ones. The ones who will have the audacity to put a dresser in their pocket when no one’s looking. Those are the ones they want to watch out for.
After instilling the fear of the gods of retail management in you, it’s time for the store tour. You really won’t pay attention because you’ll either still be quaking in your boots from the loss prevention video or you’ll be too busy wondering what went wrong in your life that led you to this point in your life: A tour showcasing all the customers with telephone poles up their butts who you’ll be serving, the crappy products you have to pretend to believe in, and that creepy guy hanging out in the bathing suit section.
Congratulations, though. You’ve finished the basics. Now it’s time to learn the intricacies of operating a cash register. It’s a drawn out procedure, complete with a variety of curve balls thrown your way. Five minutes later, you’re a master. You can now embark on your exciting new career.
Prologue - So You’ve Landed a Retail Job
Maybe you’re a high school student landing your very first job. Maybe you’re a college student just trying to afford those books you’re never going to read. Maybe you’ve just graduated college and your philosophy degree is not appealing to employers. Maybe you’re just trying to make ends meet. Either way, you’ve found yourself in a retail job.
As you don your brightly colored smock, you sit down in the training room ready to embark on your new, exciting, slightly above minimum wage job. You’re not sure what to expect. I’m here to help ease you into this jarring experience, and tell you just what you need to do to stay alive.
Chapter One - Staying Awake During Training
In your first few hours, days, or weeks, depending on how much your employer enjoys wasting the time of new employees, you will be training. You’ll probably be with a group of other unfortunates who find themselves in the same break room, getting ready to fill out W-2’s and drown their sorrows in a jar of peanut butter later. You’ll awkwardly play “My Life Story in 20 Seconds,” where one person will inevitably share way too much, and those nearest that person will subtly move their chairs away and pretend to be very interested in the clicky pen they were just given.
As soon as this session of TMI 101 and filling out paperwork that no one actually reads is finished, it’s time for the intro video. This video will undoubtedly be hosted by someone who took 25 anti-depression pills or just drank 35 quarts of Kool-Aid. It depends on whether or not their random employee drug tests are going to be administered any time soon.
The video will cover the amazing benefits of the health insurance they offer. A deductible of only $150,000! After working there for a period of only 57 years, you’ll be able to cover that! If you’re part-time, you won’t be eligible. You will, however, get an exciting partial-benefit. You’ll get more information on this later.
It will also cover the best way to approach customer service. Armed with the smile of a homicidal clown, the host will ask each customer will the enthusiasm of a coked up Mr. Rogers if they need any help. The customer will ask them something, and the host will immediately know every single detail of all the products available. He will spew out more information than an encyclopedia article on the topic will produce. Finally, he will thank the customer and tell them to come again. The tone of his voice is reassuring. It carries with it an air of, “Come again, so we can harvest your organs.”
He will then introduce the exact same scenario 37 times. Three days later, it will finish and you will be given a quiz. This will consist of everyone exchanging answers after the training manager leaves the room. Everyone will miraculously get 100%. The hiring manager will be extremely impressed. This is one of the best training sessions they’ve ever administered!
Not too long after this, you’ll be shown the loss prevention video. You are told that you are never, under any circumstances, to follow someone who set off the EAS alarm to their car. You are also definitely not supposed to get into your car and follow them home. This is unacceptable behavior. You’re also not supposed to tackle them. I mean, geeze, people, where do you get these ideas? It’s clear that these training sessions are designed for fiends such as yourselves.
The loss prevention video will also show you that it’s never a good idea to steal from your company. The manager administering the video will then mean to subtly scan the room for signs of fear or defiance, but they will be the only person to actually think no one notices. They’re trying to weed out the bad ones. The ones who will have the audacity to put a dresser in their pocket when no one’s looking. Those are the ones they want to watch out for.
After instilling the fear of the gods of retail management in you, it’s time for the store tour. You really won’t pay attention because you’ll either still be quaking in your boots from the loss prevention video or you’ll be too busy wondering what went wrong in your life that led you to this point in your life: A tour showcasing all the customers with telephone poles up their butts who you’ll be serving, the crappy products you have to pretend to believe in, and that creepy guy hanging out in the bathing suit section.
Congratulations, though. You’ve finished the basics. Now it’s time to learn the intricacies of operating a cash register. It’s a drawn out procedure, complete with a variety of curve balls thrown your way. Five minutes later, you’re a master. You can now embark on your exciting new career.
Sunday, August 23, 2009
I miss BS University
You know, I always thought that once I graduated college, I'd just be stoked. No more all nighters, no more eating popcorn with crackers and trying to justify that as a real meal, and no more taking a mortgage out on my life to pay for books. You know, when I was a stupid freshman and actually BOUGHT books. Alas, there are many things I've been missing about it since graduating. Here are a few examples.
1. Trying to find topical youtube videos to watch in order to say that it really was studying. "What? I was studying for a media law and ethics class and watching an special on the civilization living within Geraldo Rivera's mustache!"
2. Finding various ways to steal cups from the dorm cafeteria. Mostly this just consisted of taking a crapload of cups filled with Gatorade and sitting right next to the jocks like I was one of them. The only thing that didn't look right was a five foot three white girl sitting with the men's basketball team. They were so drunk they didn't notice anyway.
3. Finding appropriate side dishes for Ramen. Mostly this consisted of more Ramen... and sometimes a stolen ketchup packet. And they say college kids don't get their daily recommended intake of fruits and vegetables. Pff!
4. Finding ways to get around never buying my textbooks. This was usually accomplished by using my sexuality to my advantage. Or at least that's what I said. Usually I just promised to do half of a group project just so I could copy all the pages of the book... and then never read them. I just included Bob Saget in all of my essay questions and the power of Danny Tanner got me a passing grade.
5. Buying 4 pints of Ben & Jerry's a week and then complaining that I didn't have enough money for food.
6. Compensating for number five by trying each kind of food in the cafeteria and then promptly getting food poisoning.
7. Stealing forks to get even for number 6. Note to future cafeteria thieves: It's not a good idea to put them in your pants pocket. I mean, unless you need to practice for your upcoming roommate assignment with Hannibal Lector.
8. Going to bed at four AM for no discernable reason. All I'd remember was some youtube video with a trumpet-playing dog and an infomercial on pipe-cutting knives.
9. Asking myself the question, "What would Conan do?" before every major decision. Then I'd just end up putting on a wolf puppet and insulting everyone.
10. Packing up at the end of a school year and wondering where the hell all of my socks went. Then blaming my roommates because I knew deep down, they were sock fiends.
1. Trying to find topical youtube videos to watch in order to say that it really was studying. "What? I was studying for a media law and ethics class and watching an special on the civilization living within Geraldo Rivera's mustache!"
2. Finding various ways to steal cups from the dorm cafeteria. Mostly this just consisted of taking a crapload of cups filled with Gatorade and sitting right next to the jocks like I was one of them. The only thing that didn't look right was a five foot three white girl sitting with the men's basketball team. They were so drunk they didn't notice anyway.
3. Finding appropriate side dishes for Ramen. Mostly this consisted of more Ramen... and sometimes a stolen ketchup packet. And they say college kids don't get their daily recommended intake of fruits and vegetables. Pff!
4. Finding ways to get around never buying my textbooks. This was usually accomplished by using my sexuality to my advantage. Or at least that's what I said. Usually I just promised to do half of a group project just so I could copy all the pages of the book... and then never read them. I just included Bob Saget in all of my essay questions and the power of Danny Tanner got me a passing grade.
5. Buying 4 pints of Ben & Jerry's a week and then complaining that I didn't have enough money for food.
6. Compensating for number five by trying each kind of food in the cafeteria and then promptly getting food poisoning.
7. Stealing forks to get even for number 6. Note to future cafeteria thieves: It's not a good idea to put them in your pants pocket. I mean, unless you need to practice for your upcoming roommate assignment with Hannibal Lector.
8. Going to bed at four AM for no discernable reason. All I'd remember was some youtube video with a trumpet-playing dog and an infomercial on pipe-cutting knives.
9. Asking myself the question, "What would Conan do?" before every major decision. Then I'd just end up putting on a wolf puppet and insulting everyone.
10. Packing up at the end of a school year and wondering where the hell all of my socks went. Then blaming my roommates because I knew deep down, they were sock fiends.
Friday, August 7, 2009
Home Sweet Home
So being forced to move back in with one's parents in the year or so following graduation to save up may severely bite, particularly if one is returning to the town where cows and chickens could form an uprising and have a revolution at any point. However, I have found a few things about this recent development to wholeheartedly enjoy.
First of all, there's are the wonderful tips that my dad gives me.
"Michelle, there's a red light. You have to stop up there."
"Michelle, it's steak. You need a knife."
"Michelle, the dishes in the dishwasher are dirty. Don't get any out of there."
"Yeah, Dad, there are, like, three dishes in there. And I put them in there about two minutes ago..."
"Just making sure you didn't think Mom had washed them."
"No, Dad."
"Michelle, the trunk of your car is locked. What you need to do is pop the trunk hatch."
In case you haven't noticed, I think my dad failed to attend my kindergarten graduation. As a result, I'm fairly certain he believes I have the intellectual capacity of five year old Michelle. This is debatable. I'm not sure which side I stand on.
Secondly, I quite enjoy the fact that I get to be around Stinky once again. Stinky is the crankiest middle-aged cat this side of Garfield, except she doesn't have a dog to beat up on, so she uses me. She's an odd cat. She stands at the back screen door wanting someone to come out and pet her. As soon as we come out, she runs away. We go back inside the close the door. She returns. We open the door; she runs away. Repeat until one of us gets bored. It's usually Stinky. She's found a grasshopper to dismember.
The other thing she loves to do is go eat grass as soon as I pour her food. I'm not sure if she has body image issues and feels unsatisfied with her aging, saggy physique, or if she's just a snobby vegan. I'm fairly convinced of the latter. She frequently tips her food over and glares at it. For someone who eats grasshoppers and moths more than she takes a nap throughout the day, she sure is picky. I can't blame her. I can't imagine what cat menopause is like, especially without a male cat to slap across the face and blame for everything.
Finally, I enjoy that my monthly costs only add up to $500: $200 for rent, $50 for cable, $150 for my student loan repayment, and $100 for food, toiletries, and when I don't feel like siphoning gas from cop cars. This helps me save $400/$500 a month from my impressive minimum wage cashier job. I'm the envy of high school students everywhere. College has totally paid off. It will help me save up to plague whichever country I decide is my next stop, though. I'll be sure to tell you where I decide to go so you can make sure to be as far away as possible. I might make a few stops the next few years, though. I'll give you more than enough heads up... if I feel like it. Consider yourself warned, foreign friends.
I have to go. Sharks are doing stuff on TV. It demands my utmost attention!
First of all, there's are the wonderful tips that my dad gives me.
"Michelle, there's a red light. You have to stop up there."
"Michelle, it's steak. You need a knife."
"Michelle, the dishes in the dishwasher are dirty. Don't get any out of there."
"Yeah, Dad, there are, like, three dishes in there. And I put them in there about two minutes ago..."
"Just making sure you didn't think Mom had washed them."
"No, Dad."
"Michelle, the trunk of your car is locked. What you need to do is pop the trunk hatch."
In case you haven't noticed, I think my dad failed to attend my kindergarten graduation. As a result, I'm fairly certain he believes I have the intellectual capacity of five year old Michelle. This is debatable. I'm not sure which side I stand on.
Secondly, I quite enjoy the fact that I get to be around Stinky once again. Stinky is the crankiest middle-aged cat this side of Garfield, except she doesn't have a dog to beat up on, so she uses me. She's an odd cat. She stands at the back screen door wanting someone to come out and pet her. As soon as we come out, she runs away. We go back inside the close the door. She returns. We open the door; she runs away. Repeat until one of us gets bored. It's usually Stinky. She's found a grasshopper to dismember.
The other thing she loves to do is go eat grass as soon as I pour her food. I'm not sure if she has body image issues and feels unsatisfied with her aging, saggy physique, or if she's just a snobby vegan. I'm fairly convinced of the latter. She frequently tips her food over and glares at it. For someone who eats grasshoppers and moths more than she takes a nap throughout the day, she sure is picky. I can't blame her. I can't imagine what cat menopause is like, especially without a male cat to slap across the face and blame for everything.
Finally, I enjoy that my monthly costs only add up to $500: $200 for rent, $50 for cable, $150 for my student loan repayment, and $100 for food, toiletries, and when I don't feel like siphoning gas from cop cars. This helps me save $400/$500 a month from my impressive minimum wage cashier job. I'm the envy of high school students everywhere. College has totally paid off. It will help me save up to plague whichever country I decide is my next stop, though. I'll be sure to tell you where I decide to go so you can make sure to be as far away as possible. I might make a few stops the next few years, though. I'll give you more than enough heads up... if I feel like it. Consider yourself warned, foreign friends.
I have to go. Sharks are doing stuff on TV. It demands my utmost attention!
Monday, July 20, 2009
When you reach a spatula in the road...
I'm still being indecisive about my future. I'm a woman. Like we have any capacities to make real decisions. Ha! Ask me which color wallpaper I want, and... well, I don't know that, either. Ask my cats. They share their great ideas with me every day. They're my round table in any intellectual conversation regarding home decor.
Anyway, as I see it, I have a few choices right now. The first one is to go to grad school and try to get a post somewhere as a university professor when I graduate. Secondly, there's the option of becoming the crazy international traveler; I can teach English abroad, do working holidays in various countries, and write story after story about my adventures (that will be half read by about five people until they use them to line their birdcages). Thirdly, I could go the writing route: books, short stories, screenplays, random journalistic endeavors, or a special story dictated to me by the voices in my head. Finally, I could buy that large refrigerator box and move down to the beaches of Florida.
Being a professor. Well, I'm sure it would give you more peace of mind than imagining me shaping the minds of five year olds. We'd end up with little smart asses plotting the overthrow of the sandbox hierarchy, all the while carrying a jar of peanut butter with them as their trusted companion. Shaping the minds of college kids would be better. I could assign papers challenging them to write something as truthful as what The Onion produces, I could illustrate all of my lecture points by playing Wiggles clips, and I could enforce a classroom dress code consisting of only things Noel Fielding might wear on an episode of The Mighty Boosh. I'd also remove all the desks from the room and start every class with a rousing game of Duck Duck Goose. Come on, who wouldn't want me as their professor?!
Then there's the travel route. I'd have cool stories, lots of unfocused pictures of random buildings that hold no significance whatsoever, and the cheapest souvenirs I could find to send home to people that I deem worthy of receiving a tiny ceramic sculpture of a pigeon. Hey, pigeons are the birds of love. Don't you know anything? They intrigue you with their boldness, and then ultimately crap all over you. Sounds about right, doesn't it? I might be able to compile various books that I could publish on rolls of tissue paper because it'd be the only medium I could afford. Kids crying in the bathroom at high school proms could read 'em.
The writing option. It's been my dream since I wrote the story about the 15 cats in the garage when I was eight. Utterly scintillating fiction. You must endeavor to read it one day. It's aptly titled, too: "The Cats." I know, I know. Impressive. I do have some interesting stories to tell. I mean, I did go from living in a town where moose outnumbered people, to living in a town where surfers outnumbered people who wouldn't surf because they were terrified of sea turtles, to a town where cows outnumbered people, to a town where hairy Italian men outnumbered non-gorillas. I got some things to share! Who wouldn't want to read stories centered on the crippling fear that sea turtles produce?
Finally, living in a box on a Florida beach. It would be sweet. You know, until one of those "hurricane" things drowned me. But whatever.
Decisions, decisions. If only the voices in my head would tell me definitively what to do.
Anyway, as I see it, I have a few choices right now. The first one is to go to grad school and try to get a post somewhere as a university professor when I graduate. Secondly, there's the option of becoming the crazy international traveler; I can teach English abroad, do working holidays in various countries, and write story after story about my adventures (that will be half read by about five people until they use them to line their birdcages). Thirdly, I could go the writing route: books, short stories, screenplays, random journalistic endeavors, or a special story dictated to me by the voices in my head. Finally, I could buy that large refrigerator box and move down to the beaches of Florida.
Being a professor. Well, I'm sure it would give you more peace of mind than imagining me shaping the minds of five year olds. We'd end up with little smart asses plotting the overthrow of the sandbox hierarchy, all the while carrying a jar of peanut butter with them as their trusted companion. Shaping the minds of college kids would be better. I could assign papers challenging them to write something as truthful as what The Onion produces, I could illustrate all of my lecture points by playing Wiggles clips, and I could enforce a classroom dress code consisting of only things Noel Fielding might wear on an episode of The Mighty Boosh. I'd also remove all the desks from the room and start every class with a rousing game of Duck Duck Goose. Come on, who wouldn't want me as their professor?!
Then there's the travel route. I'd have cool stories, lots of unfocused pictures of random buildings that hold no significance whatsoever, and the cheapest souvenirs I could find to send home to people that I deem worthy of receiving a tiny ceramic sculpture of a pigeon. Hey, pigeons are the birds of love. Don't you know anything? They intrigue you with their boldness, and then ultimately crap all over you. Sounds about right, doesn't it? I might be able to compile various books that I could publish on rolls of tissue paper because it'd be the only medium I could afford. Kids crying in the bathroom at high school proms could read 'em.
The writing option. It's been my dream since I wrote the story about the 15 cats in the garage when I was eight. Utterly scintillating fiction. You must endeavor to read it one day. It's aptly titled, too: "The Cats." I know, I know. Impressive. I do have some interesting stories to tell. I mean, I did go from living in a town where moose outnumbered people, to living in a town where surfers outnumbered people who wouldn't surf because they were terrified of sea turtles, to a town where cows outnumbered people, to a town where hairy Italian men outnumbered non-gorillas. I got some things to share! Who wouldn't want to read stories centered on the crippling fear that sea turtles produce?
Finally, living in a box on a Florida beach. It would be sweet. You know, until one of those "hurricane" things drowned me. But whatever.
Decisions, decisions. If only the voices in my head would tell me definitively what to do.
Friday, June 12, 2009
Why my job entertains me incessantly
So it took me almost five months after graduating from BS University (or as some refer to it, Boise State) to find employment of some sort. Of course what I ended up with was a cashier job, getting paid a whopping $8 an hour. As if that wasn't spoiling me enough, I also got a free red vest AND a name tag with my own name on it! I mean, really. How cool. After getting those two bonuses, I knew that the thousands of dollars I'd spent on college were so paying off.
*COUGH* Real world check! *COUGH* Okay, no, I wasn't exactly hoping that my first job after graduating would consist of asking everyone I encounter if they want a bag for their super glue, but hey, a job is a freaking job. As depressing as it is to get yelled at by people who are outraged that something is ringing up ten cents higher than they had thought (usually due to said people's inability to read), I have found many ways to entertain myself at work.
The first thing is singling out the most awkward guy I could find and making him my "work crush." A work crush is basically someone who I probably wouldn't like normally. It's just fun to stare at him when I'm bored and have nothing better to do. Our conversations are electrifying, too. So far, they have consisted of "Hello" and "Sup?" I think we're really getting somewhere. We also made awkward eye contact in the break room today. I juiced it up with a little eyebrow. He was momentarily concerned, having confused it for a seizure.
The second thing I enjoy is our eclectic selection of music. I'm fairly certain that we have the entire catalog of The Police and John Mayer on rotation. We also play a fair amount of Elton John. This results in many romantic serenades thrown my way... by myself. I have to say, the audience really appreciates it. Sometimes customers get in the way, but I will keep singing Tiny Dancer. I know Elton John really wrote it for the purpose of a weird cashier serenading herself. It's not weird at all. We also play that one Miley Cyrus song at least once an hour. I then get a posse together with the sole purpose of planning the demise of the song rotation. We make glorious plans of throwing Raffi and N Sync into the mix. Then the song ends and we lose our motivation. I also interrupt myself by promptly launching into song mode to compliment Sting's vocals. How I've never been a backup singer on one of his tours, I will never know.
Finally, I quite enjoy the fact that I am hit on every single day by 70 year old men with dentures. Come on, who wouldn't love that? It's why I comb my hair in the morning.
I hope this has been educational for you. You must know that no matter what the circumstances, whether or not Mike Rowe will accept your invitation to work at your job, and whether or not old dudes make eyes at you, there is always something to be enjoyed at work. Now if you'll excuse me, Your Song is on. It's time to wake the neighborhood up with my passionate vocal chords.
*COUGH* Real world check! *COUGH* Okay, no, I wasn't exactly hoping that my first job after graduating would consist of asking everyone I encounter if they want a bag for their super glue, but hey, a job is a freaking job. As depressing as it is to get yelled at by people who are outraged that something is ringing up ten cents higher than they had thought (usually due to said people's inability to read), I have found many ways to entertain myself at work.
The first thing is singling out the most awkward guy I could find and making him my "work crush." A work crush is basically someone who I probably wouldn't like normally. It's just fun to stare at him when I'm bored and have nothing better to do. Our conversations are electrifying, too. So far, they have consisted of "Hello" and "Sup?" I think we're really getting somewhere. We also made awkward eye contact in the break room today. I juiced it up with a little eyebrow. He was momentarily concerned, having confused it for a seizure.
The second thing I enjoy is our eclectic selection of music. I'm fairly certain that we have the entire catalog of The Police and John Mayer on rotation. We also play a fair amount of Elton John. This results in many romantic serenades thrown my way... by myself. I have to say, the audience really appreciates it. Sometimes customers get in the way, but I will keep singing Tiny Dancer. I know Elton John really wrote it for the purpose of a weird cashier serenading herself. It's not weird at all. We also play that one Miley Cyrus song at least once an hour. I then get a posse together with the sole purpose of planning the demise of the song rotation. We make glorious plans of throwing Raffi and N Sync into the mix. Then the song ends and we lose our motivation. I also interrupt myself by promptly launching into song mode to compliment Sting's vocals. How I've never been a backup singer on one of his tours, I will never know.
Finally, I quite enjoy the fact that I am hit on every single day by 70 year old men with dentures. Come on, who wouldn't love that? It's why I comb my hair in the morning.
I hope this has been educational for you. You must know that no matter what the circumstances, whether or not Mike Rowe will accept your invitation to work at your job, and whether or not old dudes make eyes at you, there is always something to be enjoyed at work. Now if you'll excuse me, Your Song is on. It's time to wake the neighborhood up with my passionate vocal chords.
Monday, May 25, 2009
Informative Movie Reviews
So I got off from work earlier, and my friend, the lovely and talented Ben, told me to write some movie reviews. I strive to be very useful and to enrich my friends' lives with quality information. In that spirit, here are some movie reviews.
The Bourne Ultimatum - Sometimes you just gotta smack some bitches around. And sometimes the best action flick ever needs little more for a plot than smacking some bitches who messed with you around. Rent it as soon as possible and watch it with your bitches.
Once Upon a Time in Mexico - This film incorporates a very important lesson. Don't spill coffee on Johnny Depp's arm unless you are willing to accept the death penalty. I'm glad this movie made us aware of the dire circumstances. And you guys think I'm crazy for avoiding Starbucks like the plague.
Dude Where's My Car? - This film answers the age old question: What do you do when aliens invade the Earth and are determined to destroy it? You entrust the fate of the galaxy to the dudes who can get a pizza on the ceiling and keep it there. Clearly they know something we don't know about gravity. I recommend this movie to descendants of Isaac Newton. It also shows the dangers of forgetting where one's car is parked. One will promptly be attacked by every jock, restaurant manager, alien, and pot-loving dog within a 10 mile radius. It's propaganda for the cyclist movement. They're plotting the demise of the automobile.
Legends of the Fall - No matter how gorgeous you are and how perfect your long, luxurious hair is, scruffy Brad Pitt will be prettier than you. Just give up now, Anthony Hopkins. Crazy white dudes who run around scalping everyone and pulling knives on their girlfriends are total dude and chick magnets. I recommend this film to sane clean shaven men who are having a difficult time attracting mates.
The Prestige - Every one needs an extra Christian Bale, for when Hugh Jackman gets out of line. I'm glad someone finally admitted it.
The Bourne Ultimatum - Sometimes you just gotta smack some bitches around. And sometimes the best action flick ever needs little more for a plot than smacking some bitches who messed with you around. Rent it as soon as possible and watch it with your bitches.
Once Upon a Time in Mexico - This film incorporates a very important lesson. Don't spill coffee on Johnny Depp's arm unless you are willing to accept the death penalty. I'm glad this movie made us aware of the dire circumstances. And you guys think I'm crazy for avoiding Starbucks like the plague.
Dude Where's My Car? - This film answers the age old question: What do you do when aliens invade the Earth and are determined to destroy it? You entrust the fate of the galaxy to the dudes who can get a pizza on the ceiling and keep it there. Clearly they know something we don't know about gravity. I recommend this movie to descendants of Isaac Newton. It also shows the dangers of forgetting where one's car is parked. One will promptly be attacked by every jock, restaurant manager, alien, and pot-loving dog within a 10 mile radius. It's propaganda for the cyclist movement. They're plotting the demise of the automobile.
Legends of the Fall - No matter how gorgeous you are and how perfect your long, luxurious hair is, scruffy Brad Pitt will be prettier than you. Just give up now, Anthony Hopkins. Crazy white dudes who run around scalping everyone and pulling knives on their girlfriends are total dude and chick magnets. I recommend this film to sane clean shaven men who are having a difficult time attracting mates.
The Prestige - Every one needs an extra Christian Bale, for when Hugh Jackman gets out of line. I'm glad someone finally admitted it.
Wednesday, April 29, 2009
Okay, done with college... now what?!
So I graduated four-ish months ago now. Still have my head in the clouds. I don't know what I want to do with my life. Well, I do, but being Conan O'Brien's trophy wife is not really an option right now. A) He's already got one. B) I don't think I even have enough motivation to do that. C) Unless I started a trend of "unhot trophy wives," I don't fit the bill. D) I'd have to live in LA... ew.
So what am I going to do? I have a few career ideas.
1) A dinosaur. This was always my dream career when I was six. Who says you can't be a dinosaur?! Science? Pff, what does science know? Actually, that's really a question. For a high school honors student, I really didn't pay much attention. Anyway, all you really have to do is go see the trash heap from Fraggle Rock. It has all the answers. I would be an herbivore, though. Blood makes me squeamish. Being a dinosaur wouldn't change my inability to sit through an episode of Grey's Anatomy without throwing up... over both the blood and the "storylines." I also think I'd be running away from carnivores a lot as a result of making fun of their little arms.
2) A traveling journalist. This is my more "realistic" dream. It doesn't involve trash heaps. It just involves having money to go places and enough sarcastic things to say about them. Potential stories? "When random Italian guys start rubbing your leg on a train." "When you travel, you will need an umbrella and galoshes, no matter what the crazy weather man said." "Developing diabetes abroad: When your London hostel has four times as many jam packets as pieces of toast." "Top 10 places to see tourists make asses of themselves. Site 1? The Leaning Tower of Pisa." "How to cuddle with your roommates when your Dublin hostel has no heat in December." "Be cautious when eating food in Italy. Upon returning home, you will soon develop anorexia and a strong hatred for Pizza Hut." Actually, I should write some of these anyway. Ah, semesters in Italy.
3) Mike Rowe's sidekick. As long as A) I don't have to do any dirty jobs, B) I get to be as snarky as I want to without getting dirt or worse thrown at me by the man actually doing the dirty job, C) I get obscene dough, and D) I get Mike if my Conan dreams fall through. I think we need to start drawing up the contract.
4) An actress. A few requirements for this, too. 1) My stunt double does 90% of my work. 2) I will spend the majority of my time demanding weird food combinations from Kraft service - Peanut butter and ketchup sandwiches, with crust on the side covered in grey poupon; spam quiche; sweet potato ice cream topped off with carrots cut in the geometric shape of my choosing; banana steak; eggs Toshiba... I will be unclear as to what the recipe for this is. 3) All of my roles consist of being Bill Hader's love interest and slapping Brad Pitt across the face. 4) I get paid obscene dough to support Conan's and my 17 children and 378 cats.
5) Tina Fey. I would be on 30 Rock. This should be more than enough to explain why. PS - Close access to Alec Baldwin.
Now excuse me while I write about the second best place to make fun of tourists.
So what am I going to do? I have a few career ideas.
1) A dinosaur. This was always my dream career when I was six. Who says you can't be a dinosaur?! Science? Pff, what does science know? Actually, that's really a question. For a high school honors student, I really didn't pay much attention. Anyway, all you really have to do is go see the trash heap from Fraggle Rock. It has all the answers. I would be an herbivore, though. Blood makes me squeamish. Being a dinosaur wouldn't change my inability to sit through an episode of Grey's Anatomy without throwing up... over both the blood and the "storylines." I also think I'd be running away from carnivores a lot as a result of making fun of their little arms.
2) A traveling journalist. This is my more "realistic" dream. It doesn't involve trash heaps. It just involves having money to go places and enough sarcastic things to say about them. Potential stories? "When random Italian guys start rubbing your leg on a train." "When you travel, you will need an umbrella and galoshes, no matter what the crazy weather man said." "Developing diabetes abroad: When your London hostel has four times as many jam packets as pieces of toast." "Top 10 places to see tourists make asses of themselves. Site 1? The Leaning Tower of Pisa." "How to cuddle with your roommates when your Dublin hostel has no heat in December." "Be cautious when eating food in Italy. Upon returning home, you will soon develop anorexia and a strong hatred for Pizza Hut." Actually, I should write some of these anyway. Ah, semesters in Italy.
3) Mike Rowe's sidekick. As long as A) I don't have to do any dirty jobs, B) I get to be as snarky as I want to without getting dirt or worse thrown at me by the man actually doing the dirty job, C) I get obscene dough, and D) I get Mike if my Conan dreams fall through. I think we need to start drawing up the contract.
4) An actress. A few requirements for this, too. 1) My stunt double does 90% of my work. 2) I will spend the majority of my time demanding weird food combinations from Kraft service - Peanut butter and ketchup sandwiches, with crust on the side covered in grey poupon; spam quiche; sweet potato ice cream topped off with carrots cut in the geometric shape of my choosing; banana steak; eggs Toshiba... I will be unclear as to what the recipe for this is. 3) All of my roles consist of being Bill Hader's love interest and slapping Brad Pitt across the face. 4) I get paid obscene dough to support Conan's and my 17 children and 378 cats.
5) Tina Fey. I would be on 30 Rock. This should be more than enough to explain why. PS - Close access to Alec Baldwin.
Now excuse me while I write about the second best place to make fun of tourists.
Saturday, April 25, 2009
Starting a blog...
I really don't know what prompted me to do this. It's likely due to the fact that the three and a half fans of my myspace blog have moved on. This is probably because the three and a half people who still used myspace have moved on. Well, two and a half. I'm still there... myspace stalking myself.
The biggest task when starting this blog was to decide what my user name would be. Nerdy ideas aplenty were thrown around: small town smart ass, cynical nerd, peanut butter whore, ConanOLuv, how do you use this?, I can't sleep again, there's nothing good on TV at 5 AM, tone deaf, didn't feel like cowtipping tonight. After much deliberation and thinking objectively about who I really am, I chose the nerdiest moniker: Random Rambler. And due to my incredible inventiveness, I worked very hard on a blog name: Random Sarcastic Ramblings. I know, I know. You only wish you had my creative vision. Who doesn't?!
To warn you in advance, my blogs never make any sense, they go off on tangents that come out of nowhere and bitch slap cohesion, and very rarely is anything I say meant to be taken seriously. That whole last sentence could have been a farce. You may never know. I also write about things that really have no social significance and you would never guess someone could write a 500 word blog on: how much NBC needs to suffer for the three months between Conan's Late Night and Conan's Tonight Show (no plan was ever really made for this... the conclusion was just that thousands of people would go crazy and cease to understand that a remote was not a calculator), why John Mayer owes me $500, why I dream about dinosaurs and King Kong criticizing Parliament in English accents, and what college actually teaches someone.
I hope you're ready. I'm not really. I just want to go to bed and ask King Kong what he really thinks about Gordon Brown.
Tootles!
The biggest task when starting this blog was to decide what my user name would be. Nerdy ideas aplenty were thrown around: small town smart ass, cynical nerd, peanut butter whore, ConanOLuv, how do you use this?, I can't sleep again, there's nothing good on TV at 5 AM, tone deaf, didn't feel like cowtipping tonight. After much deliberation and thinking objectively about who I really am, I chose the nerdiest moniker: Random Rambler. And due to my incredible inventiveness, I worked very hard on a blog name: Random Sarcastic Ramblings. I know, I know. You only wish you had my creative vision. Who doesn't?!
To warn you in advance, my blogs never make any sense, they go off on tangents that come out of nowhere and bitch slap cohesion, and very rarely is anything I say meant to be taken seriously. That whole last sentence could have been a farce. You may never know. I also write about things that really have no social significance and you would never guess someone could write a 500 word blog on: how much NBC needs to suffer for the three months between Conan's Late Night and Conan's Tonight Show (no plan was ever really made for this... the conclusion was just that thousands of people would go crazy and cease to understand that a remote was not a calculator), why John Mayer owes me $500, why I dream about dinosaurs and King Kong criticizing Parliament in English accents, and what college actually teaches someone.
I hope you're ready. I'm not really. I just want to go to bed and ask King Kong what he really thinks about Gordon Brown.
Tootles!
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