Last week I saw two pigeons sparring with beaks. It was pretty fun to watch and I wish I could've recorded it.
On Saturday I had my big exam for a job posting for the Unified Court System of New York State. Basically it was a test to see if I can type and if I can do clerical work. Considering there were a butt-load of women and a few men taking the same test I really don't see a job coming out of this but I'm happy to have it done with, as I had studied myself into a panic for the damn thing.
Unfortunately, I woke up that morning with a raging cold. I freaked out a bit because I couldn't believe that I would wake up sick on the morning of the test. But no worries, I ate my breakfast and took some cold medicine and off I went to waste hours on a test that will probably get me nowhere. Though, whaddya know, as soon as the test actually starts, after the herding around of large masses of people, after the reorganization of tainted scantron answer sheets, after the deep sighs of annoyance from state and future state employees, my cold medicine runs out and so does my breakfast.
In a tiny classroom on West 41st a whole lot of strangers got to listen to the INSANELY loud grumblings of my stomach which does not like to be kept off schedule. Add that to the incessant sneezing and sniffling (half my answer sheet was covered in snot tissue) and I definitely had to perform under pressure.
I thought it was a runny nose run amok so I headed downtown to meet up with Steve and Laurie to a "show". I didn't know that it was a kinda gallery showing in a pizza place. The artist (a Purchase Alumna) went to Amsterdam for her honeymoon and a year later ended up with these paintings inspired by the many cafés she and her new husband had visited. The story in its full version is really cool and as the artist, Michele, tells you how it all came to fruition she lets you flip through her sketchbook. Anyway, I bought a print of my favorite one because I cannot afford real art and you can go to her website if you're interested in seeing whatever cool graphic-type stuff she came up with.
The bad news is that my cold only got worse and I felt like death on Sunday. After a long and slightly traumatizing morning on Monday I now have three different prescriptions that will make me feel better.
And feeling better means going to work (which leads to feeling worse but I won't go there for now).
At work we've been preparing for the arrival of Hanukkah and I can't get this song out of my head. While this version is a little slower it is no less awesome. I beg you to go here and get a sampling of what is going through my head at a fairly constant rate.
Monday, December 15, 2008
Saturday, November 29, 2008
Free Writing
Hello friends. If you've been a dedicated checker-of-the-blog, I thank you. Obviously I haven't written in a very long time. I felt that I didn't have much going on and I had nothing much but whining to dish. While me whining is nothing new I try to keep it to a minimum in order to keep ya'll happy. Maybe I fail at that mission but maybe I don't!
So I decided to just drop in and say what's up with me.
Some of you know that the month began with me becoming engaged. In a way it's nice to see a relationship develop. It's totally like a promotion from Mark. 'Congrats on being a wonderful mate, you move up to the next phase!' Of course many people have wonderfully happy long-term relationships that never become 'engagements' so all this is my personal take on my relationship.
The proposal was a total surprise which I think is my favorite part of all this. No, I didn't see it coming. No, we didn't go on a vacation where all I could think is "This is it!" (not that I'm that kind of girl anyway). No, it wasn't a Christmas or Valentine's proposal (Thank God!). In a way the election of Barack Obama will always be the "when did he propose" reminder.
We quickly went to stores to get my finger sized because the size 5 ring was much to big. After learning I'm a size 4 we sent away the ring and we were told it would take about 8 weeks to get it resized. I said goodbye to my ring "see you in January!". True to their excellent customer service (and unbeknownst to me) Blue Nile, our jeweler, had my ring back in exactly one week. Which means Mark not only surprised me once with a ring but twice! That guy is good!
Other than that, November has been pretty standard. I'm not in love with my job but some days are okay. Some days I think that the kiddies are just the cutest things in the world. I'm more just nervous of where to go from here. I still don't know what I like, what someone would hire me for,what I can stick with.
I'm grumpy about the time change. It's already dark by the time I (and thousands) get off of work. Which means my after-work walks through the trees are cancelled until further notice.
Have you seen the new Go-Phone ad with Steve Buscemi as the voice of a gingerbread dad repairing his gingerbread house? Awesomely funny.
Thanksgiving Dinner at the Uncle and Aunt's house was tasty. My highlight? The latest addition to our family is now 2 years old and he's a cutie.
My introduction to the world of Yoga is going well. My Saturday class is pretty much done. It was really basic but it gave me something to do. The teacher told me she has another class on Tuesdays and Thursdays which I didn't know about, it was never advertised. I wonder if it's like an invite only type of thing since all the students know her well.
So I registered and attended, not wanting to lose my rhythm of having any physical activity. It's intense! Nothing like my Saturday class which is filled with some Senior-types. I loved it even though it leaves me with a rushed feeling all day, having to get home quickly to walk the dog, eat, and change before class. And then when I get back from class it's pretty much bed time!
While the positions are challenging I really like it. The "challenge" I don't love is my right wrist. It's so damaged from time at the computer and using a mouse that it's really weak and I have trouble supporting my weight doing some poses. A huge bummer since I'm only in my twenties!
I'm having trouble getting into any reading. I haven't finished a few books I started and nothing is really catching my interest. I'll have to do some big shopping at the library. I'll need a good read for my holiday break coming up. If you have any suggestions please let me know!
'Til Later.
So I decided to just drop in and say what's up with me.
Some of you know that the month began with me becoming engaged. In a way it's nice to see a relationship develop. It's totally like a promotion from Mark. 'Congrats on being a wonderful mate, you move up to the next phase!' Of course many people have wonderfully happy long-term relationships that never become 'engagements' so all this is my personal take on my relationship.
The proposal was a total surprise which I think is my favorite part of all this. No, I didn't see it coming. No, we didn't go on a vacation where all I could think is "This is it!" (not that I'm that kind of girl anyway). No, it wasn't a Christmas or Valentine's proposal (Thank God!). In a way the election of Barack Obama will always be the "when did he propose" reminder.
We quickly went to stores to get my finger sized because the size 5 ring was much to big. After learning I'm a size 4 we sent away the ring and we were told it would take about 8 weeks to get it resized. I said goodbye to my ring "see you in January!". True to their excellent customer service (and unbeknownst to me) Blue Nile, our jeweler, had my ring back in exactly one week. Which means Mark not only surprised me once with a ring but twice! That guy is good!
Other than that, November has been pretty standard. I'm not in love with my job but some days are okay. Some days I think that the kiddies are just the cutest things in the world. I'm more just nervous of where to go from here. I still don't know what I like, what someone would hire me for,what I can stick with.
I'm grumpy about the time change. It's already dark by the time I (and thousands) get off of work. Which means my after-work walks through the trees are cancelled until further notice.
Have you seen the new Go-Phone ad with Steve Buscemi as the voice of a gingerbread dad repairing his gingerbread house? Awesomely funny.
Thanksgiving Dinner at the Uncle and Aunt's house was tasty. My highlight? The latest addition to our family is now 2 years old and he's a cutie.
My introduction to the world of Yoga is going well. My Saturday class is pretty much done. It was really basic but it gave me something to do. The teacher told me she has another class on Tuesdays and Thursdays which I didn't know about, it was never advertised. I wonder if it's like an invite only type of thing since all the students know her well.
So I registered and attended, not wanting to lose my rhythm of having any physical activity. It's intense! Nothing like my Saturday class which is filled with some Senior-types. I loved it even though it leaves me with a rushed feeling all day, having to get home quickly to walk the dog, eat, and change before class. And then when I get back from class it's pretty much bed time!
While the positions are challenging I really like it. The "challenge" I don't love is my right wrist. It's so damaged from time at the computer and using a mouse that it's really weak and I have trouble supporting my weight doing some poses. A huge bummer since I'm only in my twenties!
I'm having trouble getting into any reading. I haven't finished a few books I started and nothing is really catching my interest. I'll have to do some big shopping at the library. I'll need a good read for my holiday break coming up. If you have any suggestions please let me know!
'Til Later.
Sunday, November 9, 2008
14th Street
I obviously love the city I grew up in. I made Mark move back here with me so there must be some affection, right? But at the same time when I walk through my neighborhood all I can think is "I hate it here." But maybe it's just my neighborhood. Today as I was walking west on 14th Street heading towards the A train I saw all this randomness that made me feel glee at being there.
First, I fucking love the architecture. I never knew I loved architecture but every time I learn anything about architecture and/or the history of a building and why it appears and was designed the way it was I soak up the information and feel pure happiness at learning it.
The way the sun set was glowing off the top of Empire State Building and the subtle artfulness of the details on the older buildings along the street made me so excited. And even though it can be heart wrenching when some ugly glass beast gets erected occasionally they are so stylish that the juxtaposition of the shiny structure next to a beautiful pre-war building can be quite charming in that Old World meets Modern City kind of way.
I especially love the new ways that awkward old buildings are being used. On the corner of 14th and Eighth Avenue there is a Balducci's, an upscale grocery store. It's housed in an old bank building. Awesome.
Then there was the energy of being in Union Square. The people who conglomerate there trying to make a buck. You've got tables of "pashminas" next to rows and rows of Obama buttons, stickers, T-shirts. You've got the table with African inspired earrings and bracelets, the guy selling all his old James Patterson novels, the smell of hand mixed frankincense being burned. Today my particular favorite was the older man with the snow-white hair in the style of Doc from Back to the Future. He was decked out in his plaid suit complete with vest, buckets of fresh vegetables lined up in front of him demonstrating these knives, maybe a vegetable peeler. A kitchen knife demonstration on the corner of 14th and University?
Sometimes I feel self conscious walking around that area. So close to the Village, NYU housing, Fifth Avenue. Everyone is so freaking trendy and stylish it makes me feel like a hobo. But then you pass Forever 21 and Strawberry and realize that you can appear trendy for not too much money it's just a matter of putting a lot of effort and a little less body fat into it. And who needs trendy anyway, right? If anything, I enjoy the fact that there are so many senses of identity, so many ideas of what style is. I can appear perfectly fine in my sneakers and SSC fleece, my knee length jacket. As long as I have headphones I appear to be like everyone else.
So that's when I like New York. When I'm in an area where there are so many great sensory things to take in. My neighborhood just doesn't have that glam. Never will.
First, I fucking love the architecture. I never knew I loved architecture but every time I learn anything about architecture and/or the history of a building and why it appears and was designed the way it was I soak up the information and feel pure happiness at learning it.
The way the sun set was glowing off the top of Empire State Building and the subtle artfulness of the details on the older buildings along the street made me so excited. And even though it can be heart wrenching when some ugly glass beast gets erected occasionally they are so stylish that the juxtaposition of the shiny structure next to a beautiful pre-war building can be quite charming in that Old World meets Modern City kind of way.
I especially love the new ways that awkward old buildings are being used. On the corner of 14th and Eighth Avenue there is a Balducci's, an upscale grocery store. It's housed in an old bank building. Awesome.
Then there was the energy of being in Union Square. The people who conglomerate there trying to make a buck. You've got tables of "pashminas" next to rows and rows of Obama buttons, stickers, T-shirts. You've got the table with African inspired earrings and bracelets, the guy selling all his old James Patterson novels, the smell of hand mixed frankincense being burned. Today my particular favorite was the older man with the snow-white hair in the style of Doc from Back to the Future. He was decked out in his plaid suit complete with vest, buckets of fresh vegetables lined up in front of him demonstrating these knives, maybe a vegetable peeler. A kitchen knife demonstration on the corner of 14th and University?
Sometimes I feel self conscious walking around that area. So close to the Village, NYU housing, Fifth Avenue. Everyone is so freaking trendy and stylish it makes me feel like a hobo. But then you pass Forever 21 and Strawberry and realize that you can appear trendy for not too much money it's just a matter of putting a lot of effort and a little less body fat into it. And who needs trendy anyway, right? If anything, I enjoy the fact that there are so many senses of identity, so many ideas of what style is. I can appear perfectly fine in my sneakers and SSC fleece, my knee length jacket. As long as I have headphones I appear to be like everyone else.
So that's when I like New York. When I'm in an area where there are so many great sensory things to take in. My neighborhood just doesn't have that glam. Never will.
Saturday, November 8, 2008
Updates and Thoughts
I love the fact that New York City parking tickets come in neon orange envelopes. There is something festive about the bright color. Like Halloween! But then again it might also be reminiscent of convicts coveralls. And that's not so festive.
It's like:
Dear NY City vehicle owner. Welcome back to your car! Here's a surprise for you!
On Thursday at 9am I will have ALL FOUR of my wisdom teeth removed. I'm terrified. The scheduling of the whole procedure was a real pain in the ass. As someone who works in a classroom taking time off during the school week can be a real issue with your employer for obvious reasons. I was hopeful that I could schedule my appointment for this coming Monday afternoon and then have Tuesday off for Veteran's Day. Problem solved!
But with this procedure I'm having general anesthesia so they expect you to come in early in the morning because you will have had the whole night with no food or water. So I have to go in early. Top that off with the fact that the oral surgeon I'm seeing only works on Thursdays. What a life! So now I have to go in on Thursday. The scary part: I'm expected at work bright and early on Friday. UGH. I really hope I'll be able to pull that off. It's just one day right? Yeah, right.
In other news Your's Truly is engaged. Freaky. It's so adult I don't even know how to process it. But I really like my ring! It's sparkly.
It's like:
Dear NY City vehicle owner. Welcome back to your car! Here's a surprise for you!
On Thursday at 9am I will have ALL FOUR of my wisdom teeth removed. I'm terrified. The scheduling of the whole procedure was a real pain in the ass. As someone who works in a classroom taking time off during the school week can be a real issue with your employer for obvious reasons. I was hopeful that I could schedule my appointment for this coming Monday afternoon and then have Tuesday off for Veteran's Day. Problem solved!
But with this procedure I'm having general anesthesia so they expect you to come in early in the morning because you will have had the whole night with no food or water. So I have to go in early. Top that off with the fact that the oral surgeon I'm seeing only works on Thursdays. What a life! So now I have to go in on Thursday. The scary part: I'm expected at work bright and early on Friday. UGH. I really hope I'll be able to pull that off. It's just one day right? Yeah, right.
In other news Your's Truly is engaged. Freaky. It's so adult I don't even know how to process it. But I really like my ring! It's sparkly.
Tuesday, October 14, 2008
Take Heed Dear Friends
FYI-
If you lose your immunization record, you're screwed.
Many moons ago when I first registered for college I had to show proof of my immunizations, like so many of us do. So my mom whipped out a little white card and entrusted my 18-yr-old self with keeping it safe. I promptly lost it. I never thought much of it, it's information not being asked for for many years.
Back in August when I was hired to be an Assistant Nursery School Teacher I had to get a physical and was nervous about that huge chart on the back that asked for my immunization history. I felt a sigh of relief when the assistant at the Doctor's office took a big black Sharpie to it pretty much telling the receiver of the document "F off". I was thrilled. Surely a doctor's office blacking out the section was official.
Recently we were visited by the Board of Health and wha'd'ya know? The inspector picks me from a pile of paperwork and demands that I show proof of my immunization history STAT. I guess that whole working with little kids makes them really cautious. And while not being able to go to work would be sorta awesome that whole not getting paid thing doesn't really work for me.
I was lucky enough to have a number of days off and so I went to task. I was told by my head teacher that there was a clinic her college sent people to who needed shots. A few clicks and I found an immunization clinic run by the City of New York.
But first I did try emailing my college who last had that information and I emailed AmeriCorps who last gave me a tetanus shot. I even called the Board of Health in Englewood, NJ where my very first pediatrician was located. The two big organizations didn't have even the decency to get back to me and the BoH, NJ was kind enough to call and wish me luck on my doomed search, for they were unable to help me.
So here I am, a little tipsy on wine (I'll explain), and I have a really sore left arm. While I'm pissed off at the Board of Health for demanding I show proof of my immunization history, I am thankful that they have that whole immunization clinic thing that hooked me up with some free shots. For that was the whole 'painful' thing about all this. I have to show I've been immunized by November 9th but my insurance doesn't kick in until the end of November. Paying for something I've already had was really pissing me off. So thanks taxpayers of NYC (myself included)!
Earlier today when Mark was heading off to work I gave him a big, sad hug and said "See you next weekend." This is what our life is like now. Between our schedules I never see him. If we're home at the same time he's asleep when I'm awake and vice versa. We usually see each other on Sunday only and Mark sleeps in until Noon because he's so exhausted, so I barely get to spend any time with him.
As I was hugging him I made the joke that it's like I'm dating an off-shore fisherman. I see him for 1 maybe 2ish days, then he packs up and leaves again. The next time I see him he's fully bearded and smelly. He pointed out the ironic fact that his employer has a nautical theme...sigh.
So it's Tuesday: The Mom is at her night class and The Pops is at work. This means I sit around and stare at my bird and dog. I get pretty lonely. So instead of sitting around and talking to animals that can't reply I went out, bought yet another sandwich for dinner, and a bottle of wine!
I was really excited to open the bottle because I've never opened a wine bottle myself. While it took me 6 minutes to open I must say I'm proud that I didn't get any cork in the wine.
So here I am. Listening to iPod shuffle, working on a blog post, and drunk.
Now we'll see if those damn animals will talk back!
If you lose your immunization record, you're screwed.
Many moons ago when I first registered for college I had to show proof of my immunizations, like so many of us do. So my mom whipped out a little white card and entrusted my 18-yr-old self with keeping it safe. I promptly lost it. I never thought much of it, it's information not being asked for for many years.
Back in August when I was hired to be an Assistant Nursery School Teacher I had to get a physical and was nervous about that huge chart on the back that asked for my immunization history. I felt a sigh of relief when the assistant at the Doctor's office took a big black Sharpie to it pretty much telling the receiver of the document "F off". I was thrilled. Surely a doctor's office blacking out the section was official.
Recently we were visited by the Board of Health and wha'd'ya know? The inspector picks me from a pile of paperwork and demands that I show proof of my immunization history STAT. I guess that whole working with little kids makes them really cautious. And while not being able to go to work would be sorta awesome that whole not getting paid thing doesn't really work for me.
I was lucky enough to have a number of days off and so I went to task. I was told by my head teacher that there was a clinic her college sent people to who needed shots. A few clicks and I found an immunization clinic run by the City of New York.
But first I did try emailing my college who last had that information and I emailed AmeriCorps who last gave me a tetanus shot. I even called the Board of Health in Englewood, NJ where my very first pediatrician was located. The two big organizations didn't have even the decency to get back to me and the BoH, NJ was kind enough to call and wish me luck on my doomed search, for they were unable to help me.
So here I am, a little tipsy on wine (I'll explain), and I have a really sore left arm. While I'm pissed off at the Board of Health for demanding I show proof of my immunization history, I am thankful that they have that whole immunization clinic thing that hooked me up with some free shots. For that was the whole 'painful' thing about all this. I have to show I've been immunized by November 9th but my insurance doesn't kick in until the end of November. Paying for something I've already had was really pissing me off. So thanks taxpayers of NYC (myself included)!
Earlier today when Mark was heading off to work I gave him a big, sad hug and said "See you next weekend." This is what our life is like now. Between our schedules I never see him. If we're home at the same time he's asleep when I'm awake and vice versa. We usually see each other on Sunday only and Mark sleeps in until Noon because he's so exhausted, so I barely get to spend any time with him.
As I was hugging him I made the joke that it's like I'm dating an off-shore fisherman. I see him for 1 maybe 2ish days, then he packs up and leaves again. The next time I see him he's fully bearded and smelly. He pointed out the ironic fact that his employer has a nautical theme...sigh.
So it's Tuesday: The Mom is at her night class and The Pops is at work. This means I sit around and stare at my bird and dog. I get pretty lonely. So instead of sitting around and talking to animals that can't reply I went out, bought yet another sandwich for dinner, and a bottle of wine!
I was really excited to open the bottle because I've never opened a wine bottle myself. While it took me 6 minutes to open I must say I'm proud that I didn't get any cork in the wine.
So here I am. Listening to iPod shuffle, working on a blog post, and drunk.
Now we'll see if those damn animals will talk back!
Tuesday, October 7, 2008
Two Complaints
What? Did you think it was going to be all roses and daisies when I reappeared on my own blog?
1. I often get upset at myself because even though my few friends think of me as adventurous, I'm not. I'm a big scaredy cat. Mark would be happy to confirm. One of the hurdles I'm trying to jump is ordering the same food over and over at places I frequent.
There is a newer cafe in my neighborhood that I'm starting to visit more in order to avoid an old demon. I'm a huge fan of their variation of The Cuban Sandwich. A delicious concoction that I would happily suggest to my friends who are interested in such foods. But-I always order the Cuban sandwich.
Today, headed home to two animals and no humans I went in to order and forced myself to order The Thanksgiving. Turkey, cranberry mayo, stuffing. How can any lover of holiday meals not try this sandwich?
IT SUCKED.
Some old, shredded turkey sprinkled on top of a sad excuse of homemade stuffing. It was basically mushed bread served on a hero with some turkey shreds thrown on top. I would never go back there if the Cubans weren't so tasty and the coffee delicious. Sigh.
2. For some reason I have a need to trust commercials. I want to believe! I'm not talking about the late night basic cable commercials that are so ridiculous that anyone who orders that crap from some PO Box in New Jersey plus shipping and handling deserves whatever bull-crap product they get. I'm talking about commercials like the new Scotts Turf Builder commercial.
You know...the one where some good ol' average suburban white guys and one woman thrown in for good measure are talking about how they never thought about feeding their lawn in the fall, but hey! It turns out to be the greatest idea for your lawn EVER. Wow, Scotts, thank you.
I want to believe that the plaid t-shirt wearing men who love Sunday football, drive a Chevy Tahoe, and love to barbecue on their expansive, over watered emerald lawns really do spend their free time feeding their lawns in the fall. I'm totally ready to believe that these are real, happy customers.
BUT SUDDENLY the red-headed dude who plays the cable installation man in the Verizon FiOS commercials shows up and my bubble bursts. Dude! You messed it all up. Now I know it's all just a big corporate fib. I'm glad you are having a successful commercial acting career (I saw you trying to pay a restaurant tab with pennies too) but you're really starting to mess up the believable factor for me.
There...I'm done.
1. I often get upset at myself because even though my few friends think of me as adventurous, I'm not. I'm a big scaredy cat. Mark would be happy to confirm. One of the hurdles I'm trying to jump is ordering the same food over and over at places I frequent.
There is a newer cafe in my neighborhood that I'm starting to visit more in order to avoid an old demon. I'm a huge fan of their variation of The Cuban Sandwich. A delicious concoction that I would happily suggest to my friends who are interested in such foods. But-I always order the Cuban sandwich.
Today, headed home to two animals and no humans I went in to order and forced myself to order The Thanksgiving. Turkey, cranberry mayo, stuffing. How can any lover of holiday meals not try this sandwich?
IT SUCKED.
Some old, shredded turkey sprinkled on top of a sad excuse of homemade stuffing. It was basically mushed bread served on a hero with some turkey shreds thrown on top. I would never go back there if the Cubans weren't so tasty and the coffee delicious. Sigh.
2. For some reason I have a need to trust commercials. I want to believe! I'm not talking about the late night basic cable commercials that are so ridiculous that anyone who orders that crap from some PO Box in New Jersey plus shipping and handling deserves whatever bull-crap product they get. I'm talking about commercials like the new Scotts Turf Builder commercial.
You know...the one where some good ol' average suburban white guys and one woman thrown in for good measure are talking about how they never thought about feeding their lawn in the fall, but hey! It turns out to be the greatest idea for your lawn EVER. Wow, Scotts, thank you.
I want to believe that the plaid t-shirt wearing men who love Sunday football, drive a Chevy Tahoe, and love to barbecue on their expansive, over watered emerald lawns really do spend their free time feeding their lawns in the fall. I'm totally ready to believe that these are real, happy customers.
BUT SUDDENLY the red-headed dude who plays the cable installation man in the Verizon FiOS commercials shows up and my bubble bursts. Dude! You messed it all up. Now I know it's all just a big corporate fib. I'm glad you are having a successful commercial acting career (I saw you trying to pay a restaurant tab with pennies too) but you're really starting to mess up the believable factor for me.
There...I'm done.
Tuesday, September 30, 2008
Oh...Hello!
I was browsing some blogs of friends and acquaintances when suddenly I came across a nude, charcoal sketch of yours truly. Talk about a surprise! Apparently the artist I modeled for a handful of times back in Lake Tahoe exhibited the one large charcoal sketch she made of me.
I had been to a few of her shows and nothing with me ever appeared. I think I was okay with that so it's just funny to know that I made my naked and anonymous debut both on her site and at her gallery show and I wasn't even there to feel self-conscious.
Well...I guess that will end my Internet browsing for tonight. Farewell.
I had been to a few of her shows and nothing with me ever appeared. I think I was okay with that so it's just funny to know that I made my naked and anonymous debut both on her site and at her gallery show and I wasn't even there to feel self-conscious.
Well...I guess that will end my Internet browsing for tonight. Farewell.
How I Celebrate Rosh Hashanah
I would like to give a special thanks to four lovely MoMA ladies who met me at Whiskey Trader's on W55th St. on Monday night for Happy Hour. I showed up early and had a social anxiety moment when I thought no one was going to come and drink with me. But eventually they came, we drank, I had fun.
So even thought they might not necessarily read this post I want to throw out a cosmic "What Up!" to them and thank them for making my hangover on Tuesday a hangover filled with girl-bonding (aka gossip) memories.
So even thought they might not necessarily read this post I want to throw out a cosmic "What Up!" to them and thank them for making my hangover on Tuesday a hangover filled with girl-bonding (aka gossip) memories.
Monday, September 22, 2008
A Day of Rain
Back when Hurricane Hana was giving us some heavy rain I decided to really enjoy the simple pleasure: my dog looking sad even though he doesn't like going for long walks anyway, the sound of the wind, the dancing of the leaves, and the steady drumming of the rain.
How Cute Was He?
I never had a chance to show this quick video of the baby river otter that I got to play with a few times when I occasionally volunteered at the Lake Tahoe Wildlife Center. He was insanely cute and very soft and extremely playful. I hope he is living a full and happy otter life somewhere in the wild.
Thursday, September 18, 2008
Seen and Heard
On the street:
Every work day when I reach the corner of Payson Avenue and Riverside Drive a young Asian girl, stylishly dressed and looking funky and cool is running in a very comical, gazelle-like way obviously in a rush to get to the train station for she appears to be running late. What I find especially funny about the whole situation is that I see her every day at the same exact time. Which means she's on schedule, she's just on the wrong schedule.
In the Diner:
"Did I tell you? I got a tourism brochure from Alaska yesterday in the mail and I threw it away. I looked at my husband and said 'I'm never going to Alaska. Never. Because she's from Alaska. She's the Governor!' It's a shame because I've always wanted to visit Alaska."
In the Diner II:
"And my girlfriend! She went out to dinner last night. To celebrate an anniversary and she really wanted to order the wild Alaskan salmon. And she didn't. She didn't want anything to do with Alaska."
During Morning Carpet Time:
-You look very nice today.
-I'm wearing a yellow blouse under my dress today. I'm wearing a blouse under my dress today so that you can't see my nipples.
-Oh! Did your mommy tell you that?
-No, my daddy.
-Hmm.
Every work day when I reach the corner of Payson Avenue and Riverside Drive a young Asian girl, stylishly dressed and looking funky and cool is running in a very comical, gazelle-like way obviously in a rush to get to the train station for she appears to be running late. What I find especially funny about the whole situation is that I see her every day at the same exact time. Which means she's on schedule, she's just on the wrong schedule.
In the Diner:
"Did I tell you? I got a tourism brochure from Alaska yesterday in the mail and I threw it away. I looked at my husband and said 'I'm never going to Alaska. Never. Because she's from Alaska. She's the Governor!' It's a shame because I've always wanted to visit Alaska."
In the Diner II:
"And my girlfriend! She went out to dinner last night. To celebrate an anniversary and she really wanted to order the wild Alaskan salmon. And she didn't. She didn't want anything to do with Alaska."
During Morning Carpet Time:
-You look very nice today.
-I'm wearing a yellow blouse under my dress today. I'm wearing a blouse under my dress today so that you can't see my nipples.
-Oh! Did your mommy tell you that?
-No, my daddy.
-Hmm.
Wednesday, September 10, 2008
In Hopes of Making You Smile
All I have to say is I do this now to Mark as a human when I'm hungry. I'd definitely do this as a cat and I dig this cat's style.
Saturday, September 6, 2008
Hiding Out
Well. Right now humidity is at, like, a billion percent and I'm hiding out in my bedroom with the fan going and the window closed surviving off the residual cold air from running my AC last night. It's lasted quite a while and if I must say so, I'm feeling very efficient. I've braved the humidity to walk Sebastian twice and to register for a Hatha Yoga class! I'm very excited.
I've always wanted to take yoga and it's always been too expensive. I received a brochure in the mail the other day that CUNY Hostos' satellite campus was having an open house and that one of the classes was yoga. I'll spend about 8 Saturday mornings getting my stretch on and hopefully learning something that I can continue to practice on my own while I wait for another bargain to come around. This could be used as a good intro to the basics and then I can find a more 'physical' form of yoga.
The great part is that the class is about 5 minutes from my house... in the very classrooms where I was emotionally scarred in the 7th and 8th grade. My former elementary school, with its declining enrollment, rented out some of its space to the college a few years ago and this is probably the reason why they haven't had to close their doors to generations of youth waiting to be harassed by their peers.
I'm also in hiding to recuperate from my very first week as an assistant teacher at a nursery school. I help in a class of eighteen 4-year-olds. I'm exhausted. I'm scared I've made a horrible mistake taking this job. I don't get dental coverage and for some reason that really depressed me. It's hard for me to enjoy the experience because the head teacher is new. This is her first class and I feel like it's total chaos (as in more chaos than would regularly be present in a class of eighteen 4-year-olds). I think she's too green, too relying on textbooks and theories. I feel like she doesn't have her shit together (even though she's really nice) and me, hating chaos and apparently in love with order and rules, can't handle it.
I have to make it to June.
I have to and I WILL.
Hopefully by then maybe I'll like my job more. Everyone I know who is a teacher says that the first year is the hardest, and I'm only the assistant! Maybe I will want to do something with this. (even though Grad school will be impossible if I have to take the GRE. there is NO WAY I can take that test and do even remotely decent) I really can't imagine looking for another job (again!) at the end of the school year and being successful. It takes forever to get a job (and will only get harder if Old Man McCain wins). And it's getting harder and harder to convince the interviewer that I'm not a total flake and that my five different career paths I've taken so far really do, ultimately, have something in common to make me an amazingly qualified candidate.
Anyway, that's really all for me. Hurricane Hana has officially started to pour down on Inwood and my old AC air is almost gone. Tomorrow I will see Mark for what seems like the first time in days. We've barely crossed paths since he started his exhausting job all the way out in Queens. The few times we have seen each other, one of us is sleeping. I can't wait to watch him sit at his laptop and ignore me, feed Vinnie snacks, listen to him complain about my mother's use of bleach, and watch the last Project Runway with him.
Thanks for reading! Tootles!
I've always wanted to take yoga and it's always been too expensive. I received a brochure in the mail the other day that CUNY Hostos' satellite campus was having an open house and that one of the classes was yoga. I'll spend about 8 Saturday mornings getting my stretch on and hopefully learning something that I can continue to practice on my own while I wait for another bargain to come around. This could be used as a good intro to the basics and then I can find a more 'physical' form of yoga.
The great part is that the class is about 5 minutes from my house... in the very classrooms where I was emotionally scarred in the 7th and 8th grade. My former elementary school, with its declining enrollment, rented out some of its space to the college a few years ago and this is probably the reason why they haven't had to close their doors to generations of youth waiting to be harassed by their peers.
I'm also in hiding to recuperate from my very first week as an assistant teacher at a nursery school. I help in a class of eighteen 4-year-olds. I'm exhausted. I'm scared I've made a horrible mistake taking this job. I don't get dental coverage and for some reason that really depressed me. It's hard for me to enjoy the experience because the head teacher is new. This is her first class and I feel like it's total chaos (as in more chaos than would regularly be present in a class of eighteen 4-year-olds). I think she's too green, too relying on textbooks and theories. I feel like she doesn't have her shit together (even though she's really nice) and me, hating chaos and apparently in love with order and rules, can't handle it.
I have to make it to June.
I have to and I WILL.
Hopefully by then maybe I'll like my job more. Everyone I know who is a teacher says that the first year is the hardest, and I'm only the assistant! Maybe I will want to do something with this. (even though Grad school will be impossible if I have to take the GRE. there is NO WAY I can take that test and do even remotely decent) I really can't imagine looking for another job (again!) at the end of the school year and being successful. It takes forever to get a job (and will only get harder if Old Man McCain wins). And it's getting harder and harder to convince the interviewer that I'm not a total flake and that my five different career paths I've taken so far really do, ultimately, have something in common to make me an amazingly qualified candidate.
Anyway, that's really all for me. Hurricane Hana has officially started to pour down on Inwood and my old AC air is almost gone. Tomorrow I will see Mark for what seems like the first time in days. We've barely crossed paths since he started his exhausting job all the way out in Queens. The few times we have seen each other, one of us is sleeping. I can't wait to watch him sit at his laptop and ignore me, feed Vinnie snacks, listen to him complain about my mother's use of bleach, and watch the last Project Runway with him.
Thanks for reading! Tootles!
Monday, August 25, 2008
A Tiny Heartache
A number of months ago Mark mentioned that he had lost some of the Colombia pictures permanently when a mistake was made while he was changing the operating system of his laptop. It wasn't until today, while trying to upload some pictures onto Facebook (new member!) that I realized some pictures I really like were some of the victims of his carelessness.
While he might become really pissed that I'm posting this I have to let it out. I'm like...really sad! I feel a little emptiness in my chest. There are some pictures that I really liked, that really sealed a memory in a little digital file. I don't know what else to say.
My only thought is that the phrase "Don't fix what's not broken" couldn't ring more true right now. Why change operating systems?! Why lose precious photos! My suffering in Colombia was wasted!
Sigh.
While he might become really pissed that I'm posting this I have to let it out. I'm like...really sad! I feel a little emptiness in my chest. There are some pictures that I really liked, that really sealed a memory in a little digital file. I don't know what else to say.
My only thought is that the phrase "Don't fix what's not broken" couldn't ring more true right now. Why change operating systems?! Why lose precious photos! My suffering in Colombia was wasted!
Sigh.
Saturday, August 23, 2008
That "Healthy" Crap
Okay, we all are now fully aware that fast food is bad for you. It's no secret anymore. As a matter of fact anything that is bought at a franchise should be considered suspicious. That's why people were shocked that they were getting chubby when all they did was drink large "fruit" smoothies from Jamba Juice or eating yogurt parfaits at McDonald's. Or how about all those news exposés about how the new salads at Wendy's are really packing 600 calories.
Now, at least in NYC, we get to stare at how many calories our favorite coffee drink has since the NYC Board of Health required chain restaurants to post calories on their menus. If you feel like treating yourself after dinner you discover that the tiny scoop of ice cream you want to pick is competing with your meal for 'most calories contained'.
I'll be honest, while it's not stopping me from buying treats it is at least changing what I ultimately end up ordering.
However one thing that annoys me, and it's not the loss of my 'ignorance is bliss' routine when it comes to food, are these ridiculous commercials that tell us that now your favorite franchise is offering a new healthy line of food. Yeah, right.
Take, for example, Dunkin' Donuts new campaign for DDSmart. It's food 'reconfigured' to be healthier. Clusters of fresh spinach and bright peppers float through the air in a tantalizing fashion. Am I really supposed to believe that while MTA workers and home health aides line up for their coffees in the morning that the Indian dude who runs the place is in the back chopping up some fresh veggies for our flat-bread sandwich?
I hate these commercials! Do not let them seduce you! You are smarter than that.
Now, at least in NYC, we get to stare at how many calories our favorite coffee drink has since the NYC Board of Health required chain restaurants to post calories on their menus. If you feel like treating yourself after dinner you discover that the tiny scoop of ice cream you want to pick is competing with your meal for 'most calories contained'.
I'll be honest, while it's not stopping me from buying treats it is at least changing what I ultimately end up ordering.
However one thing that annoys me, and it's not the loss of my 'ignorance is bliss' routine when it comes to food, are these ridiculous commercials that tell us that now your favorite franchise is offering a new healthy line of food. Yeah, right.
Take, for example, Dunkin' Donuts new campaign for DDSmart. It's food 'reconfigured' to be healthier. Clusters of fresh spinach and bright peppers float through the air in a tantalizing fashion. Am I really supposed to believe that while MTA workers and home health aides line up for their coffees in the morning that the Indian dude who runs the place is in the back chopping up some fresh veggies for our flat-bread sandwich?
I hate these commercials! Do not let them seduce you! You are smarter than that.
Tuesday, August 19, 2008
Job Announcement
I have three more working days at MoMA and then I'm done. I'm experiencing a mix of happiness, excitement, nervousness, panic. You know...all the standard Jamie-traits.
MoMA was great because it came right when I needed a confidence booster to show that people do think I'm a qualified worker. It's interview process wasn't pretentious. I was called on a Sunday and offered the job. I got paid money that I desperately needed. I got to see a world-class museum and some of it's inner workings. I made some nice co-worker friends.
MoMA sucked because it is the most insanely busy place I've ever worked at. MoMA sucked because even people who think they are so cultured because they are spending the day at a museum can be the rudest, meanest, most impatient assholes IN THE WORLD. I'll miss the work friends I made. I don't think I'll miss MoMA.
Next Wednesday I will begin life as a teacher's assistant for a nursery school in my neighborhood. Nervous? Me? YES!
I'm going from a job where I get called an ass by a grown man to where I might be wiping asses. (Okay, probably will be wiping asses) I'm going from a job of telling adults who refuse to read signs where the bathrooms are, to taking little humans to the bathroom. I'll be going from Monet and Picasso to fingerpaint and apple juice.
I'll be making more money (not tons but more is nice), actually getting health coverage (union), I'll have weekends off, and I won't have to take the subway as it's a 10 minute walk from my house.
I mean the only downside I think is that the friends I made at MoMA will be really hard to keep. Let's face it, when you can't commiserate about the old lady who insults everyone at the information desk on a daily basis, what is there to talk about. They all gather to drown their MoMA sorrows right after work. What are they going to do? Call the nursery girl and ask how my day at the playground was? I'd like to think it'd work, but who knows? The concern grows as I'm pretty certain that all of my future coworkers aren't spring chickens. There goes my mini social life I was trying to create.
But here is to my new future, working with our future!
MoMA was great because it came right when I needed a confidence booster to show that people do think I'm a qualified worker. It's interview process wasn't pretentious. I was called on a Sunday and offered the job. I got paid money that I desperately needed. I got to see a world-class museum and some of it's inner workings. I made some nice co-worker friends.
MoMA sucked because it is the most insanely busy place I've ever worked at. MoMA sucked because even people who think they are so cultured because they are spending the day at a museum can be the rudest, meanest, most impatient assholes IN THE WORLD. I'll miss the work friends I made. I don't think I'll miss MoMA.
Next Wednesday I will begin life as a teacher's assistant for a nursery school in my neighborhood. Nervous? Me? YES!
I'm going from a job where I get called an ass by a grown man to where I might be wiping asses. (Okay, probably will be wiping asses) I'm going from a job of telling adults who refuse to read signs where the bathrooms are, to taking little humans to the bathroom. I'll be going from Monet and Picasso to fingerpaint and apple juice.
I'll be making more money (not tons but more is nice), actually getting health coverage (union), I'll have weekends off, and I won't have to take the subway as it's a 10 minute walk from my house.
I mean the only downside I think is that the friends I made at MoMA will be really hard to keep. Let's face it, when you can't commiserate about the old lady who insults everyone at the information desk on a daily basis, what is there to talk about. They all gather to drown their MoMA sorrows right after work. What are they going to do? Call the nursery girl and ask how my day at the playground was? I'd like to think it'd work, but who knows? The concern grows as I'm pretty certain that all of my future coworkers aren't spring chickens. There goes my mini social life I was trying to create.
But here is to my new future, working with our future!
Tuesday, August 5, 2008
Friday, July 25, 2008
I'm Playing My 'A' Game
Here I am, minding my own business, in my own world, walking into the subway station. I walk through the turnstile and BAM! rejected. I laugh, embarrassed, and the MTA worker watching the whole thing is polite enough to look away even though I know he's thinking something ridiculous about me.
"That's all right darlin'."
It's gonna be a good day.
Tuesday, July 22, 2008
What I Did
Being exhausted at work all week has somehow inspired me to get out on my days off and actually do something with myself. Mark and I, for the second time, went all the way down to 14th street just to run errands. More food for Vinnie, a visit to the CRAZIEST Trader Joe's in the United States, a little wine spritzer in the evening, some color despite sunblock, and maybe a little dehydration as well.
The next day we hung out with Diana. We had planned on going to see the Dark Knight all together but neither one of us really felt like committing to that plan. Instead we hopped into the car, spent more money on Vinnie (which I believe was truly wasted), and more money at a nice, calm Trader Joe's bringing our collective TJ bill to over $100 this weekend.
After sharing what turns out to the the fattiest pizza in the world, the Numero Uno, at an Uno Chicago Grill we made it back home.
I need another day off.
The next day we hung out with Diana. We had planned on going to see the Dark Knight all together but neither one of us really felt like committing to that plan. Instead we hopped into the car, spent more money on Vinnie (which I believe was truly wasted), and more money at a nice, calm Trader Joe's bringing our collective TJ bill to over $100 this weekend.
After sharing what turns out to the the fattiest pizza in the world, the Numero Uno, at an Uno Chicago Grill we made it back home.
I need another day off.
Saturday, July 19, 2008
Good Morning
This morning I stepped into the subway car and sat down in a seat. I sipped on my iced coffee and I was busy digging through my bag to find my iPod. There was only one other person in the car, an older Hispanic lady was sitting diagonally from me.
Suddenly she was plopping down right beside me talking to me, maybe mumbling is more like it. Instinctively I grabbed my bag tighter and hugged my iced coffee closer, a usual reaction when someone suddenly approaches you on public transportation.
I could hear "very tired" and a bunch of Spanish words. I realized that she wanted to chat it up because she was trying not to fall asleep. It's pretty common for older working ladies in my neighborhood to save seats for each other on the Bx12 bus and chat it up like school girls but I had never been approached by someone myself.
I was hungover, maybe still a little drunk, tired, and was looking for my iPod to zone out for the ride. I told the lady "I'm sorry I don't speak Spanish."
"Oh", a pause. "Where are you going?"
I didn't answer right away. Still thinking this is some kind of con. You don't need to know that. But she was trying to make conversation. "I'm going to work." She stares at me, demanding more. "I work at a museum."
"Where do you work?"
"Downtown."
Another pause.
"Where you from?" "You American."
Ah. There it is. The disdain. Here you are you Spanish looking girl with the American accent and you can't even participate in Spanish-as-a-second-language conversation. This is the look from strangers I've always received. From the shops in my neighborhood. From fellow students who bond by speaking their parents language against the teacher's wishes and therefore left out of the cliques.
"Yes, I'm American." She stares at me. Trying to understand the dark hair, tanned skin. "My grandparents are from Puerto Rico."
"Ah. P'rico." She nods, defeated she gets up to walk away.
"Have a nice day." I feel the need to call this out. I feel like I've hurt her feelings. I feel like I disrespected my elders. I watch her move away. Sit down. Look exhausted, rub her face.
Ironically a Spanish-language song comes on my player. I know it's about a woman named Maria, who gets no rest, who always works, always working for someone else. Great, now I feel horrible.
Suddenly she was plopping down right beside me talking to me, maybe mumbling is more like it. Instinctively I grabbed my bag tighter and hugged my iced coffee closer, a usual reaction when someone suddenly approaches you on public transportation.
I could hear "very tired" and a bunch of Spanish words. I realized that she wanted to chat it up because she was trying not to fall asleep. It's pretty common for older working ladies in my neighborhood to save seats for each other on the Bx12 bus and chat it up like school girls but I had never been approached by someone myself.
I was hungover, maybe still a little drunk, tired, and was looking for my iPod to zone out for the ride. I told the lady "I'm sorry I don't speak Spanish."
"Oh", a pause. "Where are you going?"
I didn't answer right away. Still thinking this is some kind of con. You don't need to know that. But she was trying to make conversation. "I'm going to work." She stares at me, demanding more. "I work at a museum."
"Where do you work?"
"Downtown."
Another pause.
"Where you from?" "You American."
Ah. There it is. The disdain. Here you are you Spanish looking girl with the American accent and you can't even participate in Spanish-as-a-second-language conversation. This is the look from strangers I've always received. From the shops in my neighborhood. From fellow students who bond by speaking their parents language against the teacher's wishes and therefore left out of the cliques.
"Yes, I'm American." She stares at me. Trying to understand the dark hair, tanned skin. "My grandparents are from Puerto Rico."
"Ah. P'rico." She nods, defeated she gets up to walk away.
"Have a nice day." I feel the need to call this out. I feel like I've hurt her feelings. I feel like I disrespected my elders. I watch her move away. Sit down. Look exhausted, rub her face.
Ironically a Spanish-language song comes on my player. I know it's about a woman named Maria, who gets no rest, who always works, always working for someone else. Great, now I feel horrible.
Sunday, July 6, 2008
MoMA: My New Master
I've spent my last week employed. And I haven't quit yet! Go me!
I'll be spending the summer as a Visitor's Assistant at the Museum of Modern Art. If you are in New York and want a ticket let me know you are coming and I'll write you in for a freebie!
While the job is not very hard it is very tiring. It being summer and MoMA being world-renowned the crowd never really dwindles and I'm exhausted doing the same three things over and over again.
Here is one particular thing that is always an awkward conversation:
A lot of people need to use the bathroom and think that the museum is a great place to use it. However they don't realize without a ticket you don't get to visit the bathroom.
On day 2 a "gentleman" (an oh-so-very New Yorker) asked if he could use the bathroom. I said that they would stop him with his backpack. He can check his backpack and then I could let him in. "I just want to use the bathroom."
"I understand that sir, but you need to check your bag, show me your ticket, and then you can go in to use the bathroom"
"I need a ticket to use the bathroom?"
"The bathrooms are inside and to get inside you need a ticket. So yes, you need a ticket to use the bathroom."
"This is a public building, isn't it? This is a museum. You use city funding? You take money from the Mayor and my taxes right?"
"I don't know about your taxes, sir. All I know is that the bathrooms are inside and without a ticket you're not getting in."
To avoid this whole fiasco in the future I did learn that we are a private collection and therefore we can deny public access to the bathroom. We can charge $20 for a ticket. And we can charge $20 for a ticket even if we close in 15 minutes and you only want to see 1 painting. No one is forcing you to buy this ticket, therefore feel free to walk away from the counter when I refuse to give you a free ticket. Especially if you think you can bully me into "doing you a favor".
Luckily it's just a summer job.
I'll be spending the summer as a Visitor's Assistant at the Museum of Modern Art. If you are in New York and want a ticket let me know you are coming and I'll write you in for a freebie!
While the job is not very hard it is very tiring. It being summer and MoMA being world-renowned the crowd never really dwindles and I'm exhausted doing the same three things over and over again.
Here is one particular thing that is always an awkward conversation:
A lot of people need to use the bathroom and think that the museum is a great place to use it. However they don't realize without a ticket you don't get to visit the bathroom.
On day 2 a "gentleman" (an oh-so-very New Yorker) asked if he could use the bathroom. I said that they would stop him with his backpack. He can check his backpack and then I could let him in. "I just want to use the bathroom."
"I understand that sir, but you need to check your bag, show me your ticket, and then you can go in to use the bathroom"
"I need a ticket to use the bathroom?"
"The bathrooms are inside and to get inside you need a ticket. So yes, you need a ticket to use the bathroom."
"This is a public building, isn't it? This is a museum. You use city funding? You take money from the Mayor and my taxes right?"
"I don't know about your taxes, sir. All I know is that the bathrooms are inside and without a ticket you're not getting in."
To avoid this whole fiasco in the future I did learn that we are a private collection and therefore we can deny public access to the bathroom. We can charge $20 for a ticket. And we can charge $20 for a ticket even if we close in 15 minutes and you only want to see 1 painting. No one is forcing you to buy this ticket, therefore feel free to walk away from the counter when I refuse to give you a free ticket. Especially if you think you can bully me into "doing you a favor".
Luckily it's just a summer job.
Wednesday, June 25, 2008
Hangin' With the Fellas
So even though I miss making money I will really miss sitting around with the dysfunctional animals in my life. There is something about taking in their daily lives that I enjoy (pretty much watching them nap all day). Also, they are so used to Mark and I being around all the time that they get REALLY PISSED when we're not around. Like...they freak out and scream and cry when they are left alone. Geez guys, you're really ticking off the neighbors.
Tuesday, June 24, 2008
Don't Stay Here
So I was writing a friend to give a hello and I realized that the email would do to update you all. Though that might upset the friend (no longer so 'personal') I'm sure she'll survive. I didn't want to mention this "event" earlier because I was kinda embarrassed by the whole thing but I got over it and I don't have anything else going on to talk about. So for like the 3 of you who read this blog, here's what was up:
So I went to this open house last week for a Front Desk position at this "hostel" on the Upper West Side. I thought I might as well, I'm interested in hospitality. There was a line and I waited and I met with the people and they really liked me and hired me on the spot. Woohoo, right? It paid okay, not "I can move out now" okay but okay where I can make money for a while until something better comes along. But there were no benefits (i.e. I wouldn't be giving up much if I left).
I start the next day and I get a weird feeling right away. The front desk girls are nice but the managers are weird. I'm kinda thrown to the wolves. I feel frustrated and nervous. Basically no one processes me (tax papers, what the rules and regulations are, what my schedule might be) I also had noticed that the whole process of their checking in of guests is weird. No one is assigned a room in advance which means it's kind of chaos, and I notice they are actually not that nice to their guests. I make it through the day and I'm already like "uh oh..I'm going to quit." I decide to go back the next day anyway.
I go back the next day and meet more front desk people who are nice but I'm frustrated again because the girl training me that day tells me that everything I was taught the day before was done all wrong. I'm annoyed. They don't know how to train and I have to deal with the frustration. I make it through the day and I think it will work out after all. But still that nagging feeling of I'm not loving it is there along with the reappearing Wow they're not very nice to their guests.
The third day. I'm tired. It's Sunday so a lot of tourists who have spent the weekend in the city are now checking out. Complaint galore...but with every reason.
Basically they screw over their guests BIG TIME and could care less. They kinda say sorry but not even in a convincing fake way. They make people pay for the whole stay as soon as they arrive which means if you have a shitty stay they could care less because they already got all your money. It really frustrates me. Who knew I would care about giving good service? It is especially bothersome because of two things:
1. At my last job, even though sometimes it was frustrating, we bent over backwards for our guests. But it made sense. They paid a lot of money. Here they're like "too f'ing bad".
2. I've been a tourist in a country where I don't understand the language and all I want is for someone to be nice to me so that I can have a place to sleep tonight. Everyone who worked there had never even left NYC so they don't get how scary and frustrating it is to be on the road and feel like you have no place to go and it's hard to communicate.
So basically I quit halfway through my third day. Yeah I felt weird and it's going to SUCK when I go back to pick up my check but... whatever. I don't want to be a bitch to people who have done nothing wrong. I don't like it. I won't stand there and pretend I'm okay with it. One of the girls was like "I understand but this is my job." I get that and I admire her for that..but she's never had anything but shitty jobs and I don't think she graduated high school definitely not college so to her..this is the tops. I don't think so..not for me.
So I went to this open house last week for a Front Desk position at this "hostel" on the Upper West Side. I thought I might as well, I'm interested in hospitality. There was a line and I waited and I met with the people and they really liked me and hired me on the spot. Woohoo, right? It paid okay, not "I can move out now" okay but okay where I can make money for a while until something better comes along. But there were no benefits (i.e. I wouldn't be giving up much if I left).
I start the next day and I get a weird feeling right away. The front desk girls are nice but the managers are weird. I'm kinda thrown to the wolves. I feel frustrated and nervous. Basically no one processes me (tax papers, what the rules and regulations are, what my schedule might be) I also had noticed that the whole process of their checking in of guests is weird. No one is assigned a room in advance which means it's kind of chaos, and I notice they are actually not that nice to their guests. I make it through the day and I'm already like "uh oh..I'm going to quit." I decide to go back the next day anyway.
I go back the next day and meet more front desk people who are nice but I'm frustrated again because the girl training me that day tells me that everything I was taught the day before was done all wrong. I'm annoyed. They don't know how to train and I have to deal with the frustration. I make it through the day and I think it will work out after all. But still that nagging feeling of I'm not loving it is there along with the reappearing Wow they're not very nice to their guests.
The third day. I'm tired. It's Sunday so a lot of tourists who have spent the weekend in the city are now checking out. Complaint galore...but with every reason.
You never had hot water
The elevator hasn't worked in a long time and
I'm on the 7th floor with luggage
You said I could stay in my room and now you're saying you made a mistake and instead of fixing it you're just kicking me out of my room in the next 5 minutes
Someone broke the lock on my locker and
stole my passport and all my money (apparently happens every week).
Basically they screw over their guests BIG TIME and could care less. They kinda say sorry but not even in a convincing fake way. They make people pay for the whole stay as soon as they arrive which means if you have a shitty stay they could care less because they already got all your money. It really frustrates me. Who knew I would care about giving good service? It is especially bothersome because of two things:
1. At my last job, even though sometimes it was frustrating, we bent over backwards for our guests. But it made sense. They paid a lot of money. Here they're like "too f'ing bad".
2. I've been a tourist in a country where I don't understand the language and all I want is for someone to be nice to me so that I can have a place to sleep tonight. Everyone who worked there had never even left NYC so they don't get how scary and frustrating it is to be on the road and feel like you have no place to go and it's hard to communicate.
So basically I quit halfway through my third day. Yeah I felt weird and it's going to SUCK when I go back to pick up my check but... whatever. I don't want to be a bitch to people who have done nothing wrong. I don't like it. I won't stand there and pretend I'm okay with it. One of the girls was like "I understand but this is my job." I get that and I admire her for that..but she's never had anything but shitty jobs and I don't think she graduated high school definitely not college so to her..this is the tops. I don't think so..not for me.
Wednesday, June 18, 2008
Some Cheer in the Gloom
There is one thing that I miss fondly from my adventures in Colombia. The juice. Specifically jugo de maracuyá en aguá or passion fruit blended in water. My absolute favorite. FAVORITE DRINK EVER. If you read Mark's blog then you've read ALL about the juice in South America.
Recently Mark and I wandered into a dollar store here in "lovely" Inwood to kill time. We were purchasing a diet soda for the fake-sugar fiends back home when a brightly colored juice bottle caught my eye. After further review I discovered that it was jugo de maracuyá!
My insides did a little spanishy dance and Mark and I quickly grabbed two bottles to purchase and inspect with our taste buds.
I would like to note at this point that the young woman who checked us out also seemed excited about the juice as she, like most people in my neighborhood, originally hail from the land of jugos en aguá.
So anyway, the juice freaking kicks ass. It tastes just like it should minus the icy shavings from being freshly blended. Mark and I promptly returned the next day and bought six more bottles. Woohoo indeed!
Recently Mark and I wandered into a dollar store here in "lovely" Inwood to kill time. We were purchasing a diet soda for the fake-sugar fiends back home when a brightly colored juice bottle caught my eye. After further review I discovered that it was jugo de maracuyá!
My insides did a little spanishy dance and Mark and I quickly grabbed two bottles to purchase and inspect with our taste buds.
I would like to note at this point that the young woman who checked us out also seemed excited about the juice as she, like most people in my neighborhood, originally hail from the land of jugos en aguá.
So anyway, the juice freaking kicks ass. It tastes just like it should minus the icy shavings from being freshly blended. Mark and I promptly returned the next day and bought six more bottles. Woohoo indeed!
Tuesday, June 10, 2008
Friday, June 6, 2008
General Updates
I've decided since things aren't going so wonderfully for me right now I'd rearrange my blog a bit because I have that power over it.
I've had this Reading Right Now section for awhile but if you don't visit often or if you do visit but you don't scroll down all the time you might have missed many of the books I've posted in just a short time. I decided to move it up to see if it fosters any communication with people out there. I welcome you to email me with reading suggestions or if you'd like to chat about the books, just don't give anything away! I hate that. Unfortunately this section doesn't have a back log so whatever I've posted in the past is gone, but I'll work something out for a more thorough experience.
After sitting depressed and mopey for the past week I decided that I would go out to lunch with Mark today just to get out of the house. We went to the Garden Cafe that I visited years ago with Karolyn when it first opened. The Garden Cafe is one of those pretty little places that shows a small renaissance happening in Inwood. The garden area in the back has been updated nicely but the menu is basically the same. Our waitress was nice but really awkward. The first half of my wrap was really tasty but sadly the second half was dry and chewy. After the meal I broke out in hives and my face itched tremendously. I think the dressing on the wrap might have been left out or was in a kitchen that was too warm, I tend to have allergic reactions to dairy products that aren't properly refrigerated. Oh well, it was nice to get out!
In other news I really enjoy being jobless and then I get to watch the news and hear about the country's economy crumbling to pieces and unemployment has skyrocketed in just a month. I'd like to punch the piece of my brain that thought it was a good idea to quit my old job and move out of Tahoe. I had an apartment, a job, health insurance...I could go on but you get the idea.
I've had this Reading Right Now section for awhile but if you don't visit often or if you do visit but you don't scroll down all the time you might have missed many of the books I've posted in just a short time. I decided to move it up to see if it fosters any communication with people out there. I welcome you to email me with reading suggestions or if you'd like to chat about the books, just don't give anything away! I hate that. Unfortunately this section doesn't have a back log so whatever I've posted in the past is gone, but I'll work something out for a more thorough experience.
After sitting depressed and mopey for the past week I decided that I would go out to lunch with Mark today just to get out of the house. We went to the Garden Cafe that I visited years ago with Karolyn when it first opened. The Garden Cafe is one of those pretty little places that shows a small renaissance happening in Inwood. The garden area in the back has been updated nicely but the menu is basically the same. Our waitress was nice but really awkward. The first half of my wrap was really tasty but sadly the second half was dry and chewy. After the meal I broke out in hives and my face itched tremendously. I think the dressing on the wrap might have been left out or was in a kitchen that was too warm, I tend to have allergic reactions to dairy products that aren't properly refrigerated. Oh well, it was nice to get out!
In other news I really enjoy being jobless and then I get to watch the news and hear about the country's economy crumbling to pieces and unemployment has skyrocketed in just a month. I'd like to punch the piece of my brain that thought it was a good idea to quit my old job and move out of Tahoe. I had an apartment, a job, health insurance...I could go on but you get the idea.
Wednesday, June 4, 2008
Workforce Asses Strike Again
Just in time for me to get over the wonderfully rude experience that is Workforce 1 in Jamaica, Queens I received a call yesterday.
A nice, yuppie sounding, young man had just called to remind me that my interview with Whole Foods was scheduled for the next day at 1pm.
Oh, really? No one told me that. He asked if I had my referral ticket.
The poor guy got an earful about how I was told off by some ghetto trash. How everyone there was really rude and unhelpful. How I didn't sign up knowing I was going to have to go back. How I'm a smart person who was just trying to be proactive and I don't deserve to be treated like that.
He seemed quite surprised by it all, is probably just the guy who got stuck making reminder calls, he doesn't even work in the same Jamaica office. I told him that I didn't mean to go off on him but that I had to share that it's really sad that people who are teaching others on how to be 'professional' are actually extremely lacking in professional behavior. I told him to have a nice day, if he knows anyone who should know about my experience to feel free to mention my opinion, and to go ahead a check my name off his list.
I spent the rest of the night and the next day pissed off that I was missing any sort of job opportunity.
A nice, yuppie sounding, young man had just called to remind me that my interview with Whole Foods was scheduled for the next day at 1pm.
Oh, really? No one told me that. He asked if I had my referral ticket.
The poor guy got an earful about how I was told off by some ghetto trash. How everyone there was really rude and unhelpful. How I didn't sign up knowing I was going to have to go back. How I'm a smart person who was just trying to be proactive and I don't deserve to be treated like that.
He seemed quite surprised by it all, is probably just the guy who got stuck making reminder calls, he doesn't even work in the same Jamaica office. I told him that I didn't mean to go off on him but that I had to share that it's really sad that people who are teaching others on how to be 'professional' are actually extremely lacking in professional behavior. I told him to have a nice day, if he knows anyone who should know about my experience to feel free to mention my opinion, and to go ahead a check my name off his list.
I spent the rest of the night and the next day pissed off that I was missing any sort of job opportunity.
Thursday, May 22, 2008
Let's Waste Some Time (Part Two)
So. I'm still jobless. Not for lack of trying. However I'm still paying for my surgery that occurred last August and I have a weak spot for iced coffee. This means that I'm still using money even if I'm pinching pennies.
I figured I'd get an easy retail type job while I was waiting for "The Big One" to come along. I mean, why not? It gave me possibilities:
- I could possibly keep it as a part time job while working full time because living in NYC is pricey.
- I'd have an income coming in to help with the essentials I still find myself paying for (train fare, deodorant, iced coffee).
- It'd get me out of the house since I'm going NUTS here.
- Maybe I need a job to get a job.
So I came across an ad for Whole Foods. As usual they are opening up yet another mega store in NYC and this career center in Jamaica, Queens was holding a 'hiring fair'. Sure it is way out of my way but I figured working for Whole Foods wouldn't be so terrible and it's not like I was busy doing anything else.
I wake up at 6am, shower, dress, and go. I have to take 3 trains to get to where I need to be for a total of 2 hours subway time. I have to be there by 9am. By the time my F train arrives in this god-forsaken land my iced coffee has already worn off.
9am
I walk into the center and immediately realize I'm in the wrong place. I don't see any friendly faces, I don't see any green aprons, I don't see this day going the right way at all. What me and apparently 3 other people thought they were coming to Jamaica for was to meet some people from Whole Foods, chat it up, fill out some paperwork, and hopefully walk out with a job.
That'd be TOO EASY!
I stand on line as two women watch everyone sign in like if we are signing in for visiting hours at our favorite penitentiary. They loudly berate someone for not knowing what to write in a line here or there, they yell across the room "You! Yeah You! I can't read your name, come back here!"
I fill out my paperwork and sit amongst the persons who quite honestly look like they either just got out of jail, or had their eighth kid, are all under the age of 28, and all of them feel that appropriate "professional attire" means that they wear the black jeans, the black underwear (fully exposed), their best baseball cap with the most recent overexposed logo emblazoned all over it.
We get mini-lectures on how to "sell ourselves" and "customer service" and the whole time I'm wondering why does Life hate me so? Why couldn't I have been raised to have no expectations of myself? Maybe then I'd be fine with mediocrity. I mean, I'm not exactly excelling anyway so I should be happy to be a Medical Assistant or a C-Town Cashier? But anyway...back to Jamaica.
10:45am
After awhile my name is called with a group of other people. We head to a computer room where we are given directions to apply online at the Whole Foods website. Something I could've done myself. I fly through the website (I have a brain, I've become very familiar with online job applications). While I wait around for the next level of hell to begin I get to observe the shenanigans going on. One guy doesn't know what it means to sign his initials. What are initials?
Another classy lady is dropping F bombs as she complains that if she had known how F'ing long this F'ng bullshit was going to F'ing take she's be sitting on her F'ing couch at home. When they going to F'in call me I finished this motherf'ing website. A few seconds later yet another I'm-an-Insanely-Rude-Career-Center-Employee loudly embarrasses her as she tells her that she hasn't completed the application process, right here on the screen it says step 3 out of 5. Her screen suddenly goes blue. Ouch.
11:15
Called as a group into another room. Some chick (yes: rude, obnoxious) asks us to take out our resumes. Most people have a piece of paper with maybe 5 lines on it. Many take out a piece of paper that was folded in four and shoved into their pockets. Since you get the picture, I won't get into detail of how insanely ridiculous some of the responses were to questions this stupid bitch had to ask. But I would like to point out that the three people in the room that did not speak ghetto were probably treated the worst by her. That would be me, Ruth, and Amina. The three of us combined could probably provide better service that this girl.
Basically we were asked a bunch of questions (why didn't you work from this time to this time? what's this on your resume?) and give "advice" (you want to work for Whole Foods? you should research a vegetable, they like healthy things there) we were told that "she" who, in such a professional way, totally forgot to introduce herself (later discovered her name was Eva...sounds like Evil!) would decide who was best appropriate to meet with the ACTUAL Whole Foods people.
I figured I'd get an easy retail type job while I was waiting for "The Big One" to come along. I mean, why not? It gave me possibilities:
- I could possibly keep it as a part time job while working full time because living in NYC is pricey.
- I'd have an income coming in to help with the essentials I still find myself paying for (train fare, deodorant, iced coffee).
- It'd get me out of the house since I'm going NUTS here.
- Maybe I need a job to get a job.
So I came across an ad for Whole Foods. As usual they are opening up yet another mega store in NYC and this career center in Jamaica, Queens was holding a 'hiring fair'. Sure it is way out of my way but I figured working for Whole Foods wouldn't be so terrible and it's not like I was busy doing anything else.
I wake up at 6am, shower, dress, and go. I have to take 3 trains to get to where I need to be for a total of 2 hours subway time. I have to be there by 9am. By the time my F train arrives in this god-forsaken land my iced coffee has already worn off.
9am
I walk into the center and immediately realize I'm in the wrong place. I don't see any friendly faces, I don't see any green aprons, I don't see this day going the right way at all. What me and apparently 3 other people thought they were coming to Jamaica for was to meet some people from Whole Foods, chat it up, fill out some paperwork, and hopefully walk out with a job.
That'd be TOO EASY!
I stand on line as two women watch everyone sign in like if we are signing in for visiting hours at our favorite penitentiary. They loudly berate someone for not knowing what to write in a line here or there, they yell across the room "You! Yeah You! I can't read your name, come back here!"
I fill out my paperwork and sit amongst the persons who quite honestly look like they either just got out of jail, or had their eighth kid, are all under the age of 28, and all of them feel that appropriate "professional attire" means that they wear the black jeans, the black underwear (fully exposed), their best baseball cap with the most recent overexposed logo emblazoned all over it.
We get mini-lectures on how to "sell ourselves" and "customer service" and the whole time I'm wondering why does Life hate me so? Why couldn't I have been raised to have no expectations of myself? Maybe then I'd be fine with mediocrity. I mean, I'm not exactly excelling anyway so I should be happy to be a Medical Assistant or a C-Town Cashier? But anyway...back to Jamaica.
10:45am
After awhile my name is called with a group of other people. We head to a computer room where we are given directions to apply online at the Whole Foods website. Something I could've done myself. I fly through the website (I have a brain, I've become very familiar with online job applications). While I wait around for the next level of hell to begin I get to observe the shenanigans going on. One guy doesn't know what it means to sign his initials. What are initials?
Another classy lady is dropping F bombs as she complains that if she had known how F'ing long this F'ng bullshit was going to F'ing take she's be sitting on her F'ing couch at home. When they going to F'in call me I finished this motherf'ing website. A few seconds later yet another I'm-an-Insanely-Rude-Career-Center-Employee loudly embarrasses her as she tells her that she hasn't completed the application process, right here on the screen it says step 3 out of 5. Her screen suddenly goes blue. Ouch.
11:15
Called as a group into another room. Some chick (yes: rude, obnoxious) asks us to take out our resumes. Most people have a piece of paper with maybe 5 lines on it. Many take out a piece of paper that was folded in four and shoved into their pockets. Since you get the picture, I won't get into detail of how insanely ridiculous some of the responses were to questions this stupid bitch had to ask. But I would like to point out that the three people in the room that did not speak ghetto were probably treated the worst by her. That would be me, Ruth, and Amina. The three of us combined could probably provide better service that this girl.
Basically we were asked a bunch of questions (why didn't you work from this time to this time? what's this on your resume?) and give "advice" (you want to work for Whole Foods? you should research a vegetable, they like healthy things there) we were told that "she" who, in such a professional way, totally forgot to introduce herself (later discovered her name was Eva...sounds like Evil!) would decide who was best appropriate to meet with the ACTUAL Whole Foods people.
In a nutshell, these retards "screen" us to see if we are even capable of handling an interview with Whole Foods, if we "pass" we have to go back to the office to get a referral letter and will be told when and where our Whole Foods interview will be.
12noon
I walk outta there stressed and annoyed and even more depressed than when I walked in. I run into that Ruth girl (who has been spending her time volunteering in Italy teaching English and is back in the US to earn some money as the dollar is worth shit over there) she too thought the whole thing was total crap and if she had known we were going to get shit on she would've never shown up. The Amina girl was a student at SUNY Oswego and was back trying to get a summer job. Ruth and I thought it very interesting that the 3 most intelligible persons in the room got crapped on the most (well except for the one guy who is truly screwed for life).
The next day I got a call bright and early (from what name? who knows) to tell me that I had been accepted for a referral to Whole Foods. I asked if I could have the letter faxed to me since it takes me 2 hours to get there and I didn't know I'd have to go back all the way out there.
She rudely (!) told me "No. You have to come here because you have to sit through a training session for your interview" I tried to find a polite way to respond, asking if I could call her back that afternoon to confirm if I could make it when she cut me off and said in SEVERE ATTITUDE "I'm not gonna be here this afternoon. You want them to write you the referral or not?"
I hung up on her.
Unbelievable.Tuesday, May 20, 2008
Let's Waste Some Time (Part One)
Last Wednesday:
I headed to The New York Botanical Garden in the Bronx to check it out in preparation for an interview I had later in the week. While sitting on the Bronx 12 bus I turned left to look out the window and suddenly I had pain in my neck and back of head area. I shrugged it off thinking I had slept wrong even though I hadn't woken up with the pain. The neck bothered me throughout the day and of course as it got stronger the same went for my whining and complaining. I was certain though that the next day I would wake up feeling better.
Thursday:
Woke up and the pain was stronger and very much sticking to the left side of the back of my head.
Friday:
A whole lot of the same. I finally allowed Mark to give me a neck massage (believe it or not I often turn them down) The problem was that he kept asking me where in my muscle I felt the pain and I couldn't really tell him. It was then I realized that the pain was literally in my bone. I self-diagnosed: TUMOR!
Saturday evening:
I went up to hang out with Steve's family and some of our friends to celebrate his Master's Degree from Fordham University. At one point I realized that the spot on my gums where my wisdom tooth would be was very tender. Lightbulb!
Perhaps my wisdom tooth was causing the pain. Two years ago I was told by my professional, gentle, friendly, nice, clean, and covered-by-insurance dentist that my wisdom teeth were impacted. But instead of taking advantage of all those adjectives I just listed, I decided to continue to be a complete retard and opt out of the procedure. So now what?
Sunday:
Mark discovers that you can go to Columbia University's College of Dental Medicine and be seen by students. The part that makes it less scary is that any real procedures are handled by residents which means they know more and may seem less nervous while working on you. I would like to think that makes it less scary.
Monday:
The alarm goes off early so that we can get to the clinic at opening time. I wake up to use the bathroom and peek back into the living room. Mark is still out cold in bed and my dog has snuggled next to him. I can't resist and fall back asleep. We end up leaving much later.
11am: We arrive at clinic. The waiting room is full but not scary. There seems to be a lot of movement everywhere. I fill out paperwork and get noted as an emergency because I have pain.
12:30pm: I get called into the office where they ring me up for $85 and give me my clinic card.
12:45pm: The waiting room hasn't moved in awhile. I hear someone bitching and hear the office say that the students have all gone to lunch and won't be back and seeing patients until 1:30pm.
WHAT?
Now I know that it's all first come, first serve and I know people have to eat but if you are straight up not going to see anyone for an hour and half maybe you should tell people that. So that people stop lining up, the waiting room stops overflowing, and maybe I could have gone and grabbed something to drink because I was starting to get stir crazy and hungry. I didn't bring a toothbrush so I would've been happy just to have a drink and wait it out. But no. Let's not tell anyone that "officially". And of course with my luck (unemployment, poor choices, tumor) as soon as I would've stepped out they would've called my name.
2pm: My name is called by the one student I didn't want. She seemed scared and nervous. She was a nice Asian gal who was one step above broken English. She asked me all the questions that were already answered on the form. Awkwardly checked my blood pressure, felt my glands, poked around the left side of my mouth, scribbled on her paper for awhile, seemed nervous the entire time, never told me her name, and then told me to wait in the waiting room.
3pm: I was called by some small x-ray tech lady who has a problem giving directions. She didn't seem to be a student but instead a mostly Spanish speaking lady who was gruff and maybe a little lacking in social skills. She set me up, standing and biting down on some plastic thingy. Panels rotate around my head (totally cool) and basically pan my head creating an x-ray of my entire mouth and jaw that the dental student can bring up on a computer screen.
(Note: This isn't my x-ray but this is how the image appeared on the computer screen. However, mine had an INSANE amount of metal glowing throughout the image, you could see the remnants of my 2 root canals, and my wisdom teeth are way more screwed up than this guy.)
She pretty much abandons me and I assume I have to go back to the waiting room where Mark's mental stability seems to be declining.
4pm: I'm called by some Russian(?) lady and taken into a back room with even more people in scrubs. These seem to be the exam rooms and rooms where procedures occur. I call Mark on his cell and tell him to save himself and go get some food. I sit in another waiting room with 4 other people. I wait. And wait.
Eventually it's me just sitting there and some CRAZY dude across from me who has headphones blasting and is laughing at something hysterically funny that he has just mumbled to himself because he hasn't stopped talking CRAZY the entire time I've been there. It's really awkward because I can't go anywhere, I'm getting dizzy from lack of food, and occasionally a doctor walks by and looks at Mr. CRAZY with an apparent fear that this may be their next patient.
4:30pm: I'm called into a room where the next youngin' starts asking me all the same questions, takes my blood pressure in an equally awkward manner, I finally just go "What's your name?" Trent tells me that he's a 3rd year student. Maybe chair-side manner is a 4th year subject.
He brings up my x-ray where I see that my wisdom teeth are indeed doing some weird things. About 4 people come in to see what Trent "has" a lá 'Grey's Anatomy' style. They are all in agreement that my wisdom teeth look horrible. Trent does some poking around, feels my jaw as I open and close, and then goes and gets an instructor.
This guy actually does introduce himself as Dr. Something and I notice by his dress that being a Dental School instructor pays very well. He asks Trent a bunch of questions, quizzes him on what my problem may be, and then turns to me. I was listening to Dr. Something so I already knew what was up.
When Trent had felt me bite down my jaw clicked. Dr. Something said that if my jaw is clicking, and I'm super stressed, and I'm a clencher (which previously mentioned awesome dentist had told me), I'm probably suffering from Temporomandibular Joint Disorder or TMJ.
He asked me if I was a student or under a lot of stress. What do I do for work? I of course told him my plight and so we were all in agreement that "under stress" was putting it lightly. He said that while my wisdom teeth do need to come out they may not be the cause of my pain. He recommended not doing the extraction procedure because it may not alleviate the pain at all.
He thought I should wait until I get a job and my stress goes down to which I literally replied "From your mouth to God's ears" and Dr. Something and Trent laughed. He said to apply some warm presses, stretch my jaw, really watch out for clenching, and stop chewing gum (yeah right). Ultimately if I had my wisdom teeth removed there it would cost almost $3,000 and if my pain didn't go away that would blow. For all that I'd rather wait until I can go to a private dentist and have insurance to deal with most of the money.
5pm. Mark and I finally walk out of there. Annoyed at having spent our entire day there and not yet appreciative of at least learning it wasn't a tumor.
So there it was. HOURS UPON HOURS and 85 bucks later I still have wisdom teeth and information I already knew: I have a lot of stress.
I headed to The New York Botanical Garden in the Bronx to check it out in preparation for an interview I had later in the week. While sitting on the Bronx 12 bus I turned left to look out the window and suddenly I had pain in my neck and back of head area. I shrugged it off thinking I had slept wrong even though I hadn't woken up with the pain. The neck bothered me throughout the day and of course as it got stronger the same went for my whining and complaining. I was certain though that the next day I would wake up feeling better.
Thursday:
Woke up and the pain was stronger and very much sticking to the left side of the back of my head.
Friday:
A whole lot of the same. I finally allowed Mark to give me a neck massage (believe it or not I often turn them down) The problem was that he kept asking me where in my muscle I felt the pain and I couldn't really tell him. It was then I realized that the pain was literally in my bone. I self-diagnosed: TUMOR!
Saturday evening:
I went up to hang out with Steve's family and some of our friends to celebrate his Master's Degree from Fordham University. At one point I realized that the spot on my gums where my wisdom tooth would be was very tender. Lightbulb!
Perhaps my wisdom tooth was causing the pain. Two years ago I was told by my professional, gentle, friendly, nice, clean, and covered-by-insurance dentist that my wisdom teeth were impacted. But instead of taking advantage of all those adjectives I just listed, I decided to continue to be a complete retard and opt out of the procedure. So now what?
Sunday:
Mark discovers that you can go to Columbia University's College of Dental Medicine and be seen by students. The part that makes it less scary is that any real procedures are handled by residents which means they know more and may seem less nervous while working on you. I would like to think that makes it less scary.
Monday:
The alarm goes off early so that we can get to the clinic at opening time. I wake up to use the bathroom and peek back into the living room. Mark is still out cold in bed and my dog has snuggled next to him. I can't resist and fall back asleep. We end up leaving much later.
11am: We arrive at clinic. The waiting room is full but not scary. There seems to be a lot of movement everywhere. I fill out paperwork and get noted as an emergency because I have pain.
12:30pm: I get called into the office where they ring me up for $85 and give me my clinic card.
12:45pm: The waiting room hasn't moved in awhile. I hear someone bitching and hear the office say that the students have all gone to lunch and won't be back and seeing patients until 1:30pm.
WHAT?
Now I know that it's all first come, first serve and I know people have to eat but if you are straight up not going to see anyone for an hour and half maybe you should tell people that. So that people stop lining up, the waiting room stops overflowing, and maybe I could have gone and grabbed something to drink because I was starting to get stir crazy and hungry. I didn't bring a toothbrush so I would've been happy just to have a drink and wait it out. But no. Let's not tell anyone that "officially". And of course with my luck (unemployment, poor choices, tumor) as soon as I would've stepped out they would've called my name.
2pm: My name is called by the one student I didn't want. She seemed scared and nervous. She was a nice Asian gal who was one step above broken English. She asked me all the questions that were already answered on the form. Awkwardly checked my blood pressure, felt my glands, poked around the left side of my mouth, scribbled on her paper for awhile, seemed nervous the entire time, never told me her name, and then told me to wait in the waiting room.
3pm: I was called by some small x-ray tech lady who has a problem giving directions. She didn't seem to be a student but instead a mostly Spanish speaking lady who was gruff and maybe a little lacking in social skills. She set me up, standing and biting down on some plastic thingy. Panels rotate around my head (totally cool) and basically pan my head creating an x-ray of my entire mouth and jaw that the dental student can bring up on a computer screen.
(Note: This isn't my x-ray but this is how the image appeared on the computer screen. However, mine had an INSANE amount of metal glowing throughout the image, you could see the remnants of my 2 root canals, and my wisdom teeth are way more screwed up than this guy.)
She pretty much abandons me and I assume I have to go back to the waiting room where Mark's mental stability seems to be declining.
4pm: I'm called by some Russian(?) lady and taken into a back room with even more people in scrubs. These seem to be the exam rooms and rooms where procedures occur. I call Mark on his cell and tell him to save himself and go get some food. I sit in another waiting room with 4 other people. I wait. And wait.
Eventually it's me just sitting there and some CRAZY dude across from me who has headphones blasting and is laughing at something hysterically funny that he has just mumbled to himself because he hasn't stopped talking CRAZY the entire time I've been there. It's really awkward because I can't go anywhere, I'm getting dizzy from lack of food, and occasionally a doctor walks by and looks at Mr. CRAZY with an apparent fear that this may be their next patient.
4:30pm: I'm called into a room where the next youngin' starts asking me all the same questions, takes my blood pressure in an equally awkward manner, I finally just go "What's your name?" Trent tells me that he's a 3rd year student. Maybe chair-side manner is a 4th year subject.
He brings up my x-ray where I see that my wisdom teeth are indeed doing some weird things. About 4 people come in to see what Trent "has" a lá 'Grey's Anatomy' style. They are all in agreement that my wisdom teeth look horrible. Trent does some poking around, feels my jaw as I open and close, and then goes and gets an instructor.
This guy actually does introduce himself as Dr. Something and I notice by his dress that being a Dental School instructor pays very well. He asks Trent a bunch of questions, quizzes him on what my problem may be, and then turns to me. I was listening to Dr. Something so I already knew what was up.
When Trent had felt me bite down my jaw clicked. Dr. Something said that if my jaw is clicking, and I'm super stressed, and I'm a clencher (which previously mentioned awesome dentist had told me), I'm probably suffering from Temporomandibular Joint Disorder or TMJ.
He asked me if I was a student or under a lot of stress. What do I do for work? I of course told him my plight and so we were all in agreement that "under stress" was putting it lightly. He said that while my wisdom teeth do need to come out they may not be the cause of my pain. He recommended not doing the extraction procedure because it may not alleviate the pain at all.
He thought I should wait until I get a job and my stress goes down to which I literally replied "From your mouth to God's ears" and Dr. Something and Trent laughed. He said to apply some warm presses, stretch my jaw, really watch out for clenching, and stop chewing gum (yeah right). Ultimately if I had my wisdom teeth removed there it would cost almost $3,000 and if my pain didn't go away that would blow. For all that I'd rather wait until I can go to a private dentist and have insurance to deal with most of the money.
5pm. Mark and I finally walk out of there. Annoyed at having spent our entire day there and not yet appreciative of at least learning it wasn't a tumor.
So there it was. HOURS UPON HOURS and 85 bucks later I still have wisdom teeth and information I already knew: I have a lot of stress.
Sunday, May 11, 2008
Random Search
I googled Vinnie the Parrot because I was bored and I ended up with this video on YouTube. Sadly, this cuteness is not mine. Not to mention I'm jealous of how well behaved this parrot and puppy are. If this was my house you'd be watching a crime scene. Enjoy!
Tuesday, May 6, 2008
I Would Like To Say Some Things
1. I quit that part-time job as soon as Day One was over. It was so lame. Too lame to travel for an hour and 10 minutes and only leave with $12 after tax for half of my day. I felt really bad when I quit because I know the church is totally screwed but by Sunday night when the whole world was mind-prepping for work the next day, I didn't feel so bad.
2. I'd like to thank Maya Ardon for being a great customer and friend. For those of you who didn't see my craigslist post or get my email here's the deal: I was all about having a part time job for a hot minute. As usual I jumped the gun and bought an $81 unlimited MetroCard. I then quit the job.
So...for you non-New Yorkers:
An unlimited monthly MetroCard means that I spend $81 on this card and I get to use it as many times as I want within 30 days. The only real 'rule' to the card is that you can only swipe it once about every 15 minutes.
This means that I can go to work, come back home, go out later, go somewhere else, come back home and I can do this everyday of the month, it won't cost me anything extra. But I can't swipe, go through the turnstile, and then hand the card back to Mark and he can go through. For that you need a pay-per-ride MetroCard. Basically the monthly card is a great value if you not only commute back and forth to work 5 days a week but you also travel so you can actually get more than $81 out of it.
However, I quit my job immediately and instantly was stuck with a card worth nothing to me since I wasn't going anywhere. Ultimately, Maya was fantastic and decided to half swap/buy the card off of me. She gave me a pay-per-ride card she had and then gave me cash for the difference of what I was asking. Not only did she help me out with the MetroCard but she also was so nice about asking me about my wayward life that I didn't even ask about her. Hugs Ardon! By the way you have great teeth. I didn't tell you in person because that would be awkward.
3. As I cry and moan and dread writing a cover letter (for someone who "wrote" in college I cannot write a cover letter even if it was to save my own life, which in a way it is) I was thinking back on my big bomb at the Temp Agency. I remember 'flunking' the Microsoft Word test and being kinda surprised. Weeks later I'm furious at this particular fact: One of the tests asks that now that the document is complete, I should check for spelling errors. So I sat back, read carefully, moved my cursor and corrected the error the system had placed. I failed those questions. Apparently using my brain WAS WRONG. I was supposed to be completely reliant on the computer and click the spell check button. How annoying is that!!! Sorry for being able to spell and for actually being someone who could be an asset to a company's filing closet!
4. I was summoned to Jury Duty in South Lake Tahoe so I promptly went to the New York State DMV and surrendered my California license for a New York license in order to show that I'm no longer a CA resident. A few emotions: I was really sad to see my first DL go. My orangey tan, my flowing hair, proof that I actually lived and existed outside of this city. The memories of me falling on my ass (and face) in the post office parking lot as I showed my new DL to my boss lady Carrie.
Secondly, I'm never going to drive in this city much to the chagrin of my father. So how smart and witty is it to go to another town in another state and get your license and then switch! Why is it such a wonderful method you ask? NY driving: honking, screaming, changing lanes in a very aggressive manner, parallel parking, flipping people off. Tahoe driving: Going up highway 50, going down highway 50. Going up highway 50, going down highway 50. Never parallel parking. Not even getting tested on it. I would have never gotten my DL if I had never left New York. So score for me!
2. I'd like to thank Maya Ardon for being a great customer and friend. For those of you who didn't see my craigslist post or get my email here's the deal: I was all about having a part time job for a hot minute. As usual I jumped the gun and bought an $81 unlimited MetroCard. I then quit the job.
So...for you non-New Yorkers:
An unlimited monthly MetroCard means that I spend $81 on this card and I get to use it as many times as I want within 30 days. The only real 'rule' to the card is that you can only swipe it once about every 15 minutes.
This means that I can go to work, come back home, go out later, go somewhere else, come back home and I can do this everyday of the month, it won't cost me anything extra. But I can't swipe, go through the turnstile, and then hand the card back to Mark and he can go through. For that you need a pay-per-ride MetroCard. Basically the monthly card is a great value if you not only commute back and forth to work 5 days a week but you also travel so you can actually get more than $81 out of it.
However, I quit my job immediately and instantly was stuck with a card worth nothing to me since I wasn't going anywhere. Ultimately, Maya was fantastic and decided to half swap/buy the card off of me. She gave me a pay-per-ride card she had and then gave me cash for the difference of what I was asking. Not only did she help me out with the MetroCard but she also was so nice about asking me about my wayward life that I didn't even ask about her. Hugs Ardon! By the way you have great teeth. I didn't tell you in person because that would be awkward.
3. As I cry and moan and dread writing a cover letter (for someone who "wrote" in college I cannot write a cover letter even if it was to save my own life, which in a way it is) I was thinking back on my big bomb at the Temp Agency. I remember 'flunking' the Microsoft Word test and being kinda surprised. Weeks later I'm furious at this particular fact: One of the tests asks that now that the document is complete, I should check for spelling errors. So I sat back, read carefully, moved my cursor and corrected the error the system had placed. I failed those questions. Apparently using my brain WAS WRONG. I was supposed to be completely reliant on the computer and click the spell check button. How annoying is that!!! Sorry for being able to spell and for actually being someone who could be an asset to a company's filing closet!
4. I was summoned to Jury Duty in South Lake Tahoe so I promptly went to the New York State DMV and surrendered my California license for a New York license in order to show that I'm no longer a CA resident. A few emotions: I was really sad to see my first DL go. My orangey tan, my flowing hair, proof that I actually lived and existed outside of this city. The memories of me falling on my ass (and face) in the post office parking lot as I showed my new DL to my boss lady Carrie.
Secondly, I'm never going to drive in this city much to the chagrin of my father. So how smart and witty is it to go to another town in another state and get your license and then switch! Why is it such a wonderful method you ask? NY driving: honking, screaming, changing lanes in a very aggressive manner, parallel parking, flipping people off. Tahoe driving: Going up highway 50, going down highway 50. Going up highway 50, going down highway 50. Never parallel parking. Not even getting tested on it. I would have never gotten my DL if I had never left New York. So score for me!
Thursday, May 1, 2008
Updates
After an evening at the ESPN Zone I was adjusting myself in bed to get comfy and slammed my head into Mark's head. HARD. Like so hard that if I had insurance I would've gone to the doctor. My skull hurt, my vision was blurry, I had throbbing pain throughout the left side of my face, and when I sneezed (which is often) I felt like I was being slammed into a wall. It was so the way to spend a day.
Finally cashed my checks that I earned from Crazy Australian. Yay pocket money.
I was pretty much hired on the spot to be a church secretary. It's only 15 hours a week and for 10 bucks an hour and it's a minimum commute of an hour for me but I couldn't say no. First of all, I really need money. Then you throw in the fact that the 3 women interviewing me were nice, church-going women and very excited to see me. One of them was actually a Reverend and the other looked like she was about to croak. They know I'm looking for full time work so I shouldn't feel overly committed to them and maybe having to wake up early every morning will get my butt in gear. Maybe.
Finally cashed my checks that I earned from Crazy Australian. Yay pocket money.
I was pretty much hired on the spot to be a church secretary. It's only 15 hours a week and for 10 bucks an hour and it's a minimum commute of an hour for me but I couldn't say no. First of all, I really need money. Then you throw in the fact that the 3 women interviewing me were nice, church-going women and very excited to see me. One of them was actually a Reverend and the other looked like she was about to croak. They know I'm looking for full time work so I shouldn't feel overly committed to them and maybe having to wake up early every morning will get my butt in gear. Maybe.
Sunday, April 27, 2008
Wow...Thanks
Yesterday I went downtown so I tried to look nicer than usual. I wore jeans, a button down shirt, and a nice cropped sweater. I liked it, felt prettier than an old t-shirt thrown on. I felt like I made an effort.
Today I wore my stretch cords and a polo shirt that has my old employer embroidered on the front. I was just running to the store.
Man Who Should Know How to Talk to Women By Now: See...when you wear your clothes tighter like that you look skinny.
Me: I look skinny?
MWSKHtTtWBN: Yeah, you look thin.
Me: What did my clothes make me look like yesterday?
MWSKHtTtWBN: You looked chunky yesterday.
Me: Oh. I really don't know how to feel now. Thanks.
MWSKNtTtWBN: Oh, Christ. (rubbing face in frustration like he's the one who should be upset)
Today I wore my stretch cords and a polo shirt that has my old employer embroidered on the front. I was just running to the store.
Man Who Should Know How to Talk to Women By Now: See...when you wear your clothes tighter like that you look skinny.
Me: I look skinny?
MWSKHtTtWBN: Yeah, you look thin.
Me: What did my clothes make me look like yesterday?
MWSKHtTtWBN: You looked chunky yesterday.
Me: Oh. I really don't know how to feel now. Thanks.
MWSKNtTtWBN: Oh, Christ. (rubbing face in frustration like he's the one who should be upset)
Friday, April 25, 2008
Shopping Therapy Might Lead to Therapy
So even though I am still unemployed (cue screaming, panicking, hyperventilating) I like to think that one day I'm actually going to get an interview with a prospective employer. But getting that interview means I'll have to actually dress for it. I currently own only one pair of pants that are appropriate (thanks fat genes!) and so I'm desperate to find a pair of black pants. Not only will they give me one other option when dressing for the interview but it will give me something to wear when I actually have to go to work.
Today, after applying to yet another job I will probably never hear from, I headed up to the Cross County Mall with Mom to try some clothes on. I have never tried on so many black pants in my life! Did I get any? NO. I'm either too short or too wide. (no...really...thanks fat genes!, love you metabolism) So I went to oldnavy.com and decided to risk the shipping charge and clicked on some black pants that were on sale and I'm hoping for the best.
But since we're on the subject of Old Navy, has anyone walked into one lately? Holy Hey Zeus. A f'ing bomb has gone off in every single Old Navy. I mean...Old Navy is cursed to be one of those stores where hundreds of people walk in all day and unfold t-shirts they are never going to buy and then don't even pretend like they are going to semi fold it back up. So yeah, a messy t-shirt table should be expected. But the past few Old Navy stores I've visited, on different coasts, have been a disaster. It's like Christmas is here and everyone quit except for the one guy who is stuck in the dressing room. It's not even messy. It's borderline gross. You can't buy anything in there without thinking about the 79 people who probably stepped on it that day. So there.
So as for a social update: I have no social life. That said, me and my wide ass are heading to the Go Green Expo at the Hilton on Saturday morning. I'm interested in seeing what is going to be there, what I can get for free, and stalking Mark as he sells organic coconut oil soap for a crazy, crazy man who Mark hopes he never has to see again after this weekend. If you're in Midtown bright and early (well...kinda bright and early) and you have $10 you wanna burn maybe we can hang.
Today, after applying to yet another job I will probably never hear from, I headed up to the Cross County Mall with Mom to try some clothes on. I have never tried on so many black pants in my life! Did I get any? NO. I'm either too short or too wide. (no...really...thanks fat genes!, love you metabolism) So I went to oldnavy.com and decided to risk the shipping charge and clicked on some black pants that were on sale and I'm hoping for the best.
But since we're on the subject of Old Navy, has anyone walked into one lately? Holy Hey Zeus. A f'ing bomb has gone off in every single Old Navy. I mean...Old Navy is cursed to be one of those stores where hundreds of people walk in all day and unfold t-shirts they are never going to buy and then don't even pretend like they are going to semi fold it back up. So yeah, a messy t-shirt table should be expected. But the past few Old Navy stores I've visited, on different coasts, have been a disaster. It's like Christmas is here and everyone quit except for the one guy who is stuck in the dressing room. It's not even messy. It's borderline gross. You can't buy anything in there without thinking about the 79 people who probably stepped on it that day. So there.
So as for a social update: I have no social life. That said, me and my wide ass are heading to the Go Green Expo at the Hilton on Saturday morning. I'm interested in seeing what is going to be there, what I can get for free, and stalking Mark as he sells organic coconut oil soap for a crazy, crazy man who Mark hopes he never has to see again after this weekend. If you're in Midtown bright and early (well...kinda bright and early) and you have $10 you wanna burn maybe we can hang.
Monday, April 21, 2008
You Left Out Slave Labor
So after the debacle that is the Temp Agency Visit I was clinging on to the fact that I had a phone interview set up with a company who was 'impressed with my resume'. I had found their ad on craigslist and was surprised when I actually heard back from them.
Today I spoke with Joe. He was a fast talker, obviously has a lot of other things to get done today. The phone interview was just a quick chat to lay out the expectations of the person they hire and see if I'm (or anyone else applying) is still interested in the position. He continues to tell me that I would be expected to work nights and weekends but that I would have a set schedule so nothing would really be a surprise. I tell him that every job I've had was pretty much a night and/or weekend kind of thing so if that's the way it is, I'm okay with that.
He asks if I've figured out what they do from the websites and research I did. I tell him that my assumption is that they are kind of a Ticketmaster for small touristy trips so that the company that runs the trips can focus on the event itself instead of worrying about selling their tickets. For example their is a tour company that drives you around in NYC to all these Sex and the City places. They handle the sale of tickets for that company but they don't actually have anything to do with the tour. Along with this he explains to me the other aspects of the company and how the position I'm applying for interacts with all this.
Essentially it sounds like it's a call center for tours with other responsibilities thrown in there. I'm really not all about call center but I don't want to say 'thanks but no thanks' so I listen and participate and try and be professional.
At the end of the conversation he has to throw in another thing that he feels like I should be aware of and that this tidbit of info is often 'a deal breaker' for a lot of people who apply so before we go through the trouble of face-to-face time he'll let me know now. He goes on to explain that they have 12 hour workdays and so 'if you do the math that means we have a 60 hour workweek.'
Hello!
In your job posting you say hard work and nights and weekends. You should probably throw in there that applicants who get the job should probably be prepared to say goodbye to their friends and loved ones because you're never going to see them again.
While I'll probably go to the interview just to give me a reason to shower in the morning and for some interview practice I don't think I'm interested in working a 60 hour work week. I guess I'm totally back to square one.
Today I spoke with Joe. He was a fast talker, obviously has a lot of other things to get done today. The phone interview was just a quick chat to lay out the expectations of the person they hire and see if I'm (or anyone else applying) is still interested in the position. He continues to tell me that I would be expected to work nights and weekends but that I would have a set schedule so nothing would really be a surprise. I tell him that every job I've had was pretty much a night and/or weekend kind of thing so if that's the way it is, I'm okay with that.
He asks if I've figured out what they do from the websites and research I did. I tell him that my assumption is that they are kind of a Ticketmaster for small touristy trips so that the company that runs the trips can focus on the event itself instead of worrying about selling their tickets. For example their is a tour company that drives you around in NYC to all these Sex and the City places. They handle the sale of tickets for that company but they don't actually have anything to do with the tour. Along with this he explains to me the other aspects of the company and how the position I'm applying for interacts with all this.
Essentially it sounds like it's a call center for tours with other responsibilities thrown in there. I'm really not all about call center but I don't want to say 'thanks but no thanks' so I listen and participate and try and be professional.
At the end of the conversation he has to throw in another thing that he feels like I should be aware of and that this tidbit of info is often 'a deal breaker' for a lot of people who apply so before we go through the trouble of face-to-face time he'll let me know now. He goes on to explain that they have 12 hour workdays and so 'if you do the math that means we have a 60 hour workweek.'
Hello!
In your job posting you say hard work and nights and weekends. You should probably throw in there that applicants who get the job should probably be prepared to say goodbye to their friends and loved ones because you're never going to see them again.
While I'll probably go to the interview just to give me a reason to shower in the morning and for some interview practice I don't think I'm interested in working a 60 hour work week. I guess I'm totally back to square one.
Friday, April 18, 2008
How Was Your Week Honey?
On Monday I wrote an essay explaining more about what I could bring and what I expected from a position I was applying for. Basically I had to write a personal statement just to make it to interview stage. Then I waited for a call to have my phone interview. It didn't come.
Tuesday I sat around with my thumb up my butt while Mark went to Hartsdale to spend hours in an Australian's basement. Then I waited for a call to have my phone interview. It didn't come.
Wednesday I went into a temp agency to meet with a staffing counselor. She was out sick. I met with another dude instead who had me tested (typing, Excel, Power Point) and I failed miserably. So miserably this guy basically told me I was useless to him. He tried to feel me out to see what I wanted to do. I was being no help and he said 'Well what do you like to do?' to which I would have happily replied 'If I knew what I liked to do I wouldn't be at a temp agency' but instead politely replied 'I don't really know, I guess I have to figure that out.' And then I just imagined stabbing him.
When I got home I felt miserable about myself. In two hours I had had a poor first impression both on a temp agency and from the temp agency. I realized I hate corporate, I will never be an administrative anything and apparently I don't want to be one, and that after all this self exploration and travel and growth I still don't know shit.
I called my mommy and had a breakdown. I could hear her coworker laughing in the background because my mom must have looked as shocked as she sounded. She said she was 47 and she still didn't know what she wants. Don't worry it will be okay. To which in the middle of the street on a sunny afternoon holding my dog's leash and cell phone in one hand and a big bag of poo in the other I hysterically cried out 'No it's not okay. I'm 26, I have no job, no money, no place to live, I'm sleeping on an air mattress in my parent's living room with my boyfriend, my poor, poor sucker of a boyfriend, and I can't even make a spreadsheet!" Then I waited for a phone interview. It didn't come.
I don't remember what I did Thursday. But I waited for that phone interview again only to be told in some lame email that the week has just flown by! Let's reschedule that phone interview for Monday.
Friday I spent with Mark in Hartsdale in an Australian's basement. We labeled and sliced and peeled and boxed for 7+ hours pretty much only stopping to chew on a sandwich for 2.5 minutes and to pee. While it wasn't fun, it was a tragic reminder of what my life will be when the temping actually begins. I was given a check at the end of my day so it wasn't all for nothing but I'm pretty much still in the same place I was when I woke up this morning.
Saturday will be spent outdoors, so I'm politely asking for my social anxiety to stay away. Mark and I will break out our walking shoes and stroll around midtown. W34th for some mini, super-budget shopping, to Grand Central for some Earth Day stuff, and then down 14th for Trader Joe's. If you're around give our cells a holler.
( I remembered that Thursday was spent walking my dog with my dad and eating Chinese take-out which I have to say let me down tremendously. That was so not the General Tso's chicken I grew up loving)
Tuesday I sat around with my thumb up my butt while Mark went to Hartsdale to spend hours in an Australian's basement. Then I waited for a call to have my phone interview. It didn't come.
Wednesday I went into a temp agency to meet with a staffing counselor. She was out sick. I met with another dude instead who had me tested (typing, Excel, Power Point) and I failed miserably. So miserably this guy basically told me I was useless to him. He tried to feel me out to see what I wanted to do. I was being no help and he said 'Well what do you like to do?' to which I would have happily replied 'If I knew what I liked to do I wouldn't be at a temp agency' but instead politely replied 'I don't really know, I guess I have to figure that out.' And then I just imagined stabbing him.
When I got home I felt miserable about myself. In two hours I had had a poor first impression both on a temp agency and from the temp agency. I realized I hate corporate, I will never be an administrative anything and apparently I don't want to be one, and that after all this self exploration and travel and growth I still don't know shit.
I called my mommy and had a breakdown. I could hear her coworker laughing in the background because my mom must have looked as shocked as she sounded. She said she was 47 and she still didn't know what she wants. Don't worry it will be okay. To which in the middle of the street on a sunny afternoon holding my dog's leash and cell phone in one hand and a big bag of poo in the other I hysterically cried out 'No it's not okay. I'm 26, I have no job, no money, no place to live, I'm sleeping on an air mattress in my parent's living room with my boyfriend, my poor, poor sucker of a boyfriend, and I can't even make a spreadsheet!" Then I waited for a phone interview. It didn't come.
I don't remember what I did Thursday. But I waited for that phone interview again only to be told in some lame email that the week has just flown by! Let's reschedule that phone interview for Monday.
Friday I spent with Mark in Hartsdale in an Australian's basement. We labeled and sliced and peeled and boxed for 7+ hours pretty much only stopping to chew on a sandwich for 2.5 minutes and to pee. While it wasn't fun, it was a tragic reminder of what my life will be when the temping actually begins. I was given a check at the end of my day so it wasn't all for nothing but I'm pretty much still in the same place I was when I woke up this morning.
Saturday will be spent outdoors, so I'm politely asking for my social anxiety to stay away. Mark and I will break out our walking shoes and stroll around midtown. W34th for some mini, super-budget shopping, to Grand Central for some Earth Day stuff, and then down 14th for Trader Joe's. If you're around give our cells a holler.
( I remembered that Thursday was spent walking my dog with my dad and eating Chinese take-out which I have to say let me down tremendously. That was so not the General Tso's chicken I grew up loving)
Monday, April 14, 2008
Early Morning Sights
To some people, waking up on Monday means that evil has come once again. They are heading back to work or maybe school. For some who may work the weekends waking up early on Monday might mean a nice leisurely day to have a cup of coffee and a bagel. Maybe go for a stroll. In Tahoe waking up any early morning, depending on the time of year could mean a nice early kayak trip on a smooth lake, or perhaps getting the first couple of runs on fresh snow. Maybe even just going for a gentle walk and seeing some birds.
In New York city waking up on Monday means that if you are a car owner you're double checking your brain about where you parked your car last night because today is an alternate side of the street parking day.
And if you are like Mark and I who woke up kinda early but don't have a job to get to (please God, get us jobs) then today means that you get to watch a nice shiny Camry get towed in amazingly efficient time by the NYPD. What probably makes it even funnier is that the parking restriction begins at 9am and this car was being towed away at precisely 9:12am. Talk about being on stand-by. (Tow truck driver was a latina with nicely done hair and probably had nails but her hands were protected by bad-ass gloves)
That sucks for someone but I have to admit for me, Mark, Vinnie the Parrot who sits by the window, the Parks department worker who was sweeping the sidewalk, and the guy walking his dog, it's something to talk about at dinner tonight.
In New York city waking up on Monday means that if you are a car owner you're double checking your brain about where you parked your car last night because today is an alternate side of the street parking day.
And if you are like Mark and I who woke up kinda early but don't have a job to get to (please God, get us jobs) then today means that you get to watch a nice shiny Camry get towed in amazingly efficient time by the NYPD. What probably makes it even funnier is that the parking restriction begins at 9am and this car was being towed away at precisely 9:12am. Talk about being on stand-by. (Tow truck driver was a latina with nicely done hair and probably had nails but her hands were protected by bad-ass gloves)
That sucks for someone but I have to admit for me, Mark, Vinnie the Parrot who sits by the window, the Parks department worker who was sweeping the sidewalk, and the guy walking his dog, it's something to talk about at dinner tonight.
Thursday, April 10, 2008
I'd Take a Deep Breathe if it Weren't for the Allergies
Well. Here I am. After 7 days of driving in a truck and eating America's worst yet most widely available food and watching a parrot have a nervous breakdown I am back in my parent's house. And then I had a nervous breakdown.
Where am I going to put all this stuff? Where am I going to put all of Mark's stuff? There is no room in this house. Every corner already has 20 years worth of something in it. Mark is sleeping on the couch. Which means he gets to go to bed when everyone else is done with their watching of Dancing with the Stars and American Idol and some other really bad sitcoms all at the highest volume possible.
I had a mini breakdown on my poor friend while talking to her on the phone. Luckily Mark knew what to say. "Don't think of it as we're moving in to live here. We're here to get a job and move out. This isn't the end of the road." Or something like that.
So wish me luck. If you know your job is hiring, feel free to give me a ring. I have a resume and excellent references. And if you don't think it fits me, trust me I'll work with it. Or maybe Mark can do it too!
Where am I going to put all this stuff? Where am I going to put all of Mark's stuff? There is no room in this house. Every corner already has 20 years worth of something in it. Mark is sleeping on the couch. Which means he gets to go to bed when everyone else is done with their watching of Dancing with the Stars and American Idol and some other really bad sitcoms all at the highest volume possible.
I had a mini breakdown on my poor friend while talking to her on the phone. Luckily Mark knew what to say. "Don't think of it as we're moving in to live here. We're here to get a job and move out. This isn't the end of the road." Or something like that.
So wish me luck. If you know your job is hiring, feel free to give me a ring. I have a resume and excellent references. And if you don't think it fits me, trust me I'll work with it. Or maybe Mark can do it too!
Tuesday, April 1, 2008
And That's When I Killed Him Your Honor
So today is the end of Day One. We left San Diego at about 10:30 after I took my sweet time taking a walk, showering in water pressure so low it's like being spit on, and having left over Chicken Tikka Masala for breakfast.
Immediately the ride was stressful.
Over the past few months I've fallen massively in crush with Vinnie the Parrot. After thoroughly watching him being mistreated, ignored, malnourished and other stuff I decided that we were going to bring him with us. We were going to give Vinnie a life of love and patience. We shoved his cage in between the seats in the cab and we were on our way. Vinnie FREAKED OUT.
He was so scared and frightened, having never been transported before or at least not in over 20 years that he lost his shit. Literally. The bird had birdie diarrhea, was screaming, was desperately trying to get out of his cage. His pupils expanded and never changed back and he literally just sat there in birdie shock. It was horrible. I was certain he was going to die. I started to cry because if he did die it would be terrible and it would be all my fault. And I would have to watch it all happen.
Well alas, we arrived in Sun City, AZ to spend the night at the home of Mark's aunt. While still easily agitated Vinnie seems at least able to snap out of his bird trauma and enjoy some seed, groom some feathers, and chirp a bit. We'll have to take our time across the US now because when Vinnie gets extremely worked up and can't calm down we'll have to stop at a rest stop and let him get his bearings once again.
On a positive note, it's nice to know I can pee almost as often as I want and all I have to do is blame it on the poor little traumatized bird.
Immediately the ride was stressful.
Over the past few months I've fallen massively in crush with Vinnie the Parrot. After thoroughly watching him being mistreated, ignored, malnourished and other stuff I decided that we were going to bring him with us. We were going to give Vinnie a life of love and patience. We shoved his cage in between the seats in the cab and we were on our way. Vinnie FREAKED OUT.
He was so scared and frightened, having never been transported before or at least not in over 20 years that he lost his shit. Literally. The bird had birdie diarrhea, was screaming, was desperately trying to get out of his cage. His pupils expanded and never changed back and he literally just sat there in birdie shock. It was horrible. I was certain he was going to die. I started to cry because if he did die it would be terrible and it would be all my fault. And I would have to watch it all happen.
Well alas, we arrived in Sun City, AZ to spend the night at the home of Mark's aunt. While still easily agitated Vinnie seems at least able to snap out of his bird trauma and enjoy some seed, groom some feathers, and chirp a bit. We'll have to take our time across the US now because when Vinnie gets extremely worked up and can't calm down we'll have to stop at a rest stop and let him get his bearings once again.
On a positive note, it's nice to know I can pee almost as often as I want and all I have to do is blame it on the poor little traumatized bird.
Monday, March 31, 2008
A Tid-bit
Tomorrow I hit the road that leads to New York. I'm about 10 seconds away from puking. I'm so nervous I can't even deal.
Friday, March 28, 2008
In Praise of Pets
Was cruising the ASPCA website thinking about doggies and all the love they give. I pledged to help fight animal cruelty. What does this mean? It's just a few things you can do:
1. Learn to recognize animal cruelty
2. Report animal cruelty
3. Set a good example for others
So be nice to animals people. They didn't ask to be domesticated so if we take that power over them we have the responsibility to take care of them. You too can pledge to fight animal cruelty by donating to the ASPCA, becoming a member, and/or by clicking below and just signing your internet signature, which is totally free to do. So please think about it. Thanks!
1. Learn to recognize animal cruelty
2. Report animal cruelty
3. Set a good example for others
So be nice to animals people. They didn't ask to be domesticated so if we take that power over them we have the responsibility to take care of them. You too can pledge to fight animal cruelty by donating to the ASPCA, becoming a member, and/or by clicking below and just signing your internet signature, which is totally free to do. So please think about it. Thanks!
Wednesday, March 26, 2008
For Fun
I was watching episodes of The Housewives of New York. While watching these pretentious women with their horrendous accents can be entertaining for an hour watching for 3 hours to catch up can actually be nauseating. If there was ever a group of people who were never told it doesn't matter what other people think it was this group. I mean I know for sure that there are people who are all about image. I even know some personally and it makes me sad that they are like that to begin with. However, to be honest, I'd rather be part of the nitty gritty New York than be a part of this ridiculous "social elite" circle. They're so shallow you need a whole new word to actually describe them.
So I moved to the internet to entertain myself. I visited the blog of Shelley Hocknell Zentner. She's an English artist who lives in Tahoe. I modeled for her just a handful of times but it's nice to visit her page every once in awhile and pretend that you actually 'know' an artist. She had this really funny video on it and I had to share. I hope you guys find it as funny as I did.
So I moved to the internet to entertain myself. I visited the blog of Shelley Hocknell Zentner. She's an English artist who lives in Tahoe. I modeled for her just a handful of times but it's nice to visit her page every once in awhile and pretend that you actually 'know' an artist. She had this really funny video on it and I had to share. I hope you guys find it as funny as I did.
Thursday, March 20, 2008
Just In Case You Haven't Heard
I'm Coming Back!!!
I depart Southern California on April 1st, also known as Fool's Day. Either gloriously funny or sadly ironic and telling of the future. Who knows, we'll have to wait a couple of months to tell. I'll be sitting in the cab of a rental van or truck with Mark and Vinnie for a week. We'll eat lots of trail mix and sandwiches, we'll argue over music, we'll moan over gas prices, we'll stop by the South Rim of the Grand Canyon (I'm so close I want to see it now for fear of never having the chance again).
We'll sneak a parrot into hotel rooms, we'll spend a lot of time getting to know the Interstate system, and when we arrive we'll be living in a 2 bedroom, New York City apartment fully furnished and also fully occupied. Also known as the Matias Household. This includes: Father, Mother, adult Sister, vicious miniature hamster, psychotic, poorly trained dog. We will be adding Mark, me, and a biting, screaming, poorly trained parrot who will be mercilessly hunted by earlier mentioned dog. AWESOME!
I depart Southern California on April 1st, also known as Fool's Day. Either gloriously funny or sadly ironic and telling of the future. Who knows, we'll have to wait a couple of months to tell. I'll be sitting in the cab of a rental van or truck with Mark and Vinnie for a week. We'll eat lots of trail mix and sandwiches, we'll argue over music, we'll moan over gas prices, we'll stop by the South Rim of the Grand Canyon (I'm so close I want to see it now for fear of never having the chance again).We'll sneak a parrot into hotel rooms, we'll spend a lot of time getting to know the Interstate system, and when we arrive we'll be living in a 2 bedroom, New York City apartment fully furnished and also fully occupied. Also known as the Matias Household. This includes: Father, Mother, adult Sister, vicious miniature hamster, psychotic, poorly trained dog. We will be adding Mark, me, and a biting, screaming, poorly trained parrot who will be mercilessly hunted by earlier mentioned dog. AWESOME!
Erotic Things I'll Never Do
This is Vinnie literally eating the sweaty saltiness off of Mark's hair after we went for a run. He does it all the time and he has to be physically pried away or he'll never stop. Talk about loving the essence of a person.
Sunday, March 16, 2008
iPod by J.Crew
Everyone if fully aware that some things are just yuppie. Whole Foods, Volvo, J. Crew, renting a house in the Hamptons. But some things are definitely bought by a wide market and yet the commercials continue to baffle me at how 'exclusive' their message seems to be.
iPod commercials: Nothing but Facebook, Emo, white guys in chinos and chunky dark eyewear. I'm pretty sure when I went to the Apple store in Lower Manhattan to buy my iPod a few years there was a nice style and ethnic mix of employees and customers. I'm pretty sure when I was riding a subway last the guy sitting next to me in oversized jeans was listening to some old Tupac on white headphones.
Maybe it's my tiny bit of minority pride I have in me, on a growth spurt since I've been spending too much time in Southern California. But I almost get the vibe from these commercials, and magazines like Harper's Bazaar, and catalogs like J.Crew that they are sending some sort of subliminal message. A message that says why advertise to a genre of people who obviously can't afford our items. I mean...we don't do layaway.
iPod commercials: Nothing but Facebook, Emo, white guys in chinos and chunky dark eyewear. I'm pretty sure when I went to the Apple store in Lower Manhattan to buy my iPod a few years there was a nice style and ethnic mix of employees and customers. I'm pretty sure when I was riding a subway last the guy sitting next to me in oversized jeans was listening to some old Tupac on white headphones.
Maybe it's my tiny bit of minority pride I have in me, on a growth spurt since I've been spending too much time in Southern California. But I almost get the vibe from these commercials, and magazines like Harper's Bazaar, and catalogs like J.Crew that they are sending some sort of subliminal message. A message that says why advertise to a genre of people who obviously can't afford our items. I mean...we don't do layaway.
Monday, March 10, 2008
Yes, I'm Still Alive
For the past two months I have taken over Mark's library card. I'm reading throughout the day. Most of it is stuff that people will make fun of. A lot of it is stuff I know other people have read and like to read. I've decided to not be embarrassed and to just talk about it. I have nothing else to do. So if you're looking for intellectual book talk you'd better leave fast.
Jodi Picoult: The author of books quite obviously written for the young woman to mom crowd. I was a big fan of hers after reading the book My Sister's Keeper. Which apparently is being made into a movie starring Cameron Diaz as the mom. Which is bullshit. The day Cameron Diaz isn't a bubbly blond with a six pack of abs is the day I will believe she's a upper-middle class suburban mother of three. But anyway...while I've been here I've read The Tenth Circle, Vanishing Acts, and Nineteen Minutes. I've read six other novels that she has penned. Here is what I've decided: I'm not so much a fan anymore.
Your first Jodi Picoult book is fun. It's fresh, modern, current. Three adjectives that I'm pretty sure mean the same thing. It's got a court drama, a twist, a whodunnit feel.She can create a hip teenager and a single attractive yet brooding male cop and you feel that she really gets their struggle down. And maybe if you take your time reading her books you never get too tired of them. But when you read three in a row you realize THEY ARE IDENTICAL. They're not only exactly the same but I'm pretty sure the teenage girls in both The Tenth Circle and Nineteen Minutes had the same descriptive paragraph when they are first introduced.
It's one thing to have a character be in more than one book, I can see it being a treat to some very dedicated and excited reader (I know that guy!) But it's another thing for descriptions of characters and emotions to be pretty much a dead ringer for the last book. Ugh.
Wicked by Gregory Maguire: Now a Broadway musical, Wicked is the story of the Wicked Witch of the West. What happens I couldn't tell you (other than her melting of course). I disliked reading this book so much I didn't even get halfway through. I should've known I wouldn't have liked it when I can't even recall being that into The Wizard of Oz. I remember there was a while when they would air the movie around Easter for a few years in a row and the commercials would try and remind you how much you loved it the first time so many years ago and how much better it will be when the color is all enhanced. And there were those times when all anyone could talk about was how you could see some dude hang himself in the background. But I just never cared much. Dorothy was a bit annoying for me.
Middlesex by Jeffrey Eugenides: Awesome. Something so intriguing about this book. I mean come on! First the character tells you he's a hermaphrodite. Then he tells you he was raised as a girl. Then you go back to learn his family history and find out Grandma and Grandpa were actually brother and sister AND THEN you get to watch the lives of this lively Greek family. You're sold! Everyone knows from the wild success of My Big Fat Greek Wedding that people LOVE Greek families in America. The more spanakopita the better!
Little Children by Tom Perrotta: Sure I've seen the movie which didn't exactly blow you away but I was eager to read the book. I figured why not, what else am I going to do? It was okay. It's as basic as storytelling can get. He's hot. She's blah. She's bolder than she realizes. He's kind of a preppy failure. They have lots of sex. And I think the molester is much scarier as a skinny gross man than a fat mean guy.
A Tree Grows in Brooklyn by Betty Smith: Almost like a Frank McCourt book. But not in Ireland and not that destitute and depressing. Dad's an Irish drunk, mom is from Austrian stock. Both were raised in Brooklyn, get married young, have kids, and of course realize to late they don't know what they are doing. The main character is Francie, their daughter. They live in the tenements in Williamsburg and it's pretty much: Mom scrubbing floors, Dad on the bottle. Francie and brother collecting junk for money, Dad on the bottle. Life is hard and will always be hard for poor folk like us, Dad on the bottle. Etc.
The Other Boleyn Girl by Philippa Gregory: Sure it's a movie but I got the book for free. And movies cost money. And it will probably suck anyway. I'm totally into it. So juicy.
Jodi Picoult: The author of books quite obviously written for the young woman to mom crowd. I was a big fan of hers after reading the book My Sister's Keeper. Which apparently is being made into a movie starring Cameron Diaz as the mom. Which is bullshit. The day Cameron Diaz isn't a bubbly blond with a six pack of abs is the day I will believe she's a upper-middle class suburban mother of three. But anyway...while I've been here I've read The Tenth Circle, Vanishing Acts, and Nineteen Minutes. I've read six other novels that she has penned. Here is what I've decided: I'm not so much a fan anymore.
Your first Jodi Picoult book is fun. It's fresh, modern, current. Three adjectives that I'm pretty sure mean the same thing. It's got a court drama, a twist, a whodunnit feel.She can create a hip teenager and a single attractive yet brooding male cop and you feel that she really gets their struggle down. And maybe if you take your time reading her books you never get too tired of them. But when you read three in a row you realize THEY ARE IDENTICAL. They're not only exactly the same but I'm pretty sure the teenage girls in both The Tenth Circle and Nineteen Minutes had the same descriptive paragraph when they are first introduced.
It's one thing to have a character be in more than one book, I can see it being a treat to some very dedicated and excited reader (I know that guy!) But it's another thing for descriptions of characters and emotions to be pretty much a dead ringer for the last book. Ugh.
Wicked by Gregory Maguire: Now a Broadway musical, Wicked is the story of the Wicked Witch of the West. What happens I couldn't tell you (other than her melting of course). I disliked reading this book so much I didn't even get halfway through. I should've known I wouldn't have liked it when I can't even recall being that into The Wizard of Oz. I remember there was a while when they would air the movie around Easter for a few years in a row and the commercials would try and remind you how much you loved it the first time so many years ago and how much better it will be when the color is all enhanced. And there were those times when all anyone could talk about was how you could see some dude hang himself in the background. But I just never cared much. Dorothy was a bit annoying for me.
Middlesex by Jeffrey Eugenides: Awesome. Something so intriguing about this book. I mean come on! First the character tells you he's a hermaphrodite. Then he tells you he was raised as a girl. Then you go back to learn his family history and find out Grandma and Grandpa were actually brother and sister AND THEN you get to watch the lives of this lively Greek family. You're sold! Everyone knows from the wild success of My Big Fat Greek Wedding that people LOVE Greek families in America. The more spanakopita the better!
Little Children by Tom Perrotta: Sure I've seen the movie which didn't exactly blow you away but I was eager to read the book. I figured why not, what else am I going to do? It was okay. It's as basic as storytelling can get. He's hot. She's blah. She's bolder than she realizes. He's kind of a preppy failure. They have lots of sex. And I think the molester is much scarier as a skinny gross man than a fat mean guy.
A Tree Grows in Brooklyn by Betty Smith: Almost like a Frank McCourt book. But not in Ireland and not that destitute and depressing. Dad's an Irish drunk, mom is from Austrian stock. Both were raised in Brooklyn, get married young, have kids, and of course realize to late they don't know what they are doing. The main character is Francie, their daughter. They live in the tenements in Williamsburg and it's pretty much: Mom scrubbing floors, Dad on the bottle. Francie and brother collecting junk for money, Dad on the bottle. Life is hard and will always be hard for poor folk like us, Dad on the bottle. Etc.
The Other Boleyn Girl by Philippa Gregory: Sure it's a movie but I got the book for free. And movies cost money. And it will probably suck anyway. I'm totally into it. So juicy.
Wednesday, February 13, 2008
More Unproductiveness
Uh. Let's see. What is there to talk about? Maybe the fact that I'm going INSANE.
But first other news. Here are totally unimportant things I've done lately:
I finally sent my parents and my sister the trinkets I bought them in Colombia today. I arrived on January 14th and today is February 12th. Huh...that's actually not too bad I totally thought it'd been more than a month but I'm actually a little shy of that title.
I jogged today for 4 minutes. Considering I'm not physically capable of walking above 3mph I think this a cause for celebration. So I drank a dark chocolate Godiva Coffee drink.
I've become totally into the Bravo channel. Well I'm really into Project Runway (fierce!) but I have to say that Millionaire Matchmaker is kind of fun too. I cannot wait for Rami and Chris to have a face off. I'm over the draping. Little hairspray Chris is totally obnoxious but he is definitely talented and Jillian is annoying about how she always complains she doesn't have any time to finish but when she's done it always looks great. I liked Sweet P but she definitely wasn't the strongest.
I opened up a Scottrade account to rollover my 401(k) into an IRA but lost some of my motivation when I realized that I would have to make all my own investments. They don't really do any of it for me. Luckily I found out I can actually keep my 401(k) as is until I can add it to a new one at a new employer. That is of course if I ever have a new employer. Or a place to live. Or any hope for a future.
I think I've lost a little weight. I've been going for walks almost everyday if not everyday. Combine this with the fact that I don't ingest many calories because there are none to ingest and my jeans are fitting comfortably. If I can just get myself to do some sit-ups I might actually start to feel better about myself. But I hate sit-ups.
I really, really want to cut my hair because I'm bored. But I don't because every time I cut my hair I feel an extreme sense of remorse that usually moves me to tears.
We spent the evening at Mark's sister's house which meant more playing with Sophia who is just as adorable as ever even as her terrible twos start to sneak up. At one point I was at the computer working on this very post when she walked into the room chugging her milk in her footsie pjs. She's so cute and I love to snuggle her every opportunity that I get (or really that she gives me) so I beckoned her over and plopped her in my lap. She starting asking about Elmo. She doesn't really watch TV but she had a jacket with Elmo on it and it's her latest obsession. So I googled him and up came some great YouTube clips. I think my favorite was absolutely the one that I posted below. I urge you to visit it.
The funniest part to me is that at the very end I said a joke and two seconds later Elmo said the same thing. I turned to little Sophia who had stopped chugging her milk and was mesmerized by the Elmoness of it all and said "Man, if you weren't 17 months you'd realize how funny that just was."
Go here: http://youtube.com/watch?v=BgUnYzXU-Fo
But first other news. Here are totally unimportant things I've done lately:
I finally sent my parents and my sister the trinkets I bought them in Colombia today. I arrived on January 14th and today is February 12th. Huh...that's actually not too bad I totally thought it'd been more than a month but I'm actually a little shy of that title.
I jogged today for 4 minutes. Considering I'm not physically capable of walking above 3mph I think this a cause for celebration. So I drank a dark chocolate Godiva Coffee drink.
I've become totally into the Bravo channel. Well I'm really into Project Runway (fierce!) but I have to say that Millionaire Matchmaker is kind of fun too. I cannot wait for Rami and Chris to have a face off. I'm over the draping. Little hairspray Chris is totally obnoxious but he is definitely talented and Jillian is annoying about how she always complains she doesn't have any time to finish but when she's done it always looks great. I liked Sweet P but she definitely wasn't the strongest.
I opened up a Scottrade account to rollover my 401(k) into an IRA but lost some of my motivation when I realized that I would have to make all my own investments. They don't really do any of it for me. Luckily I found out I can actually keep my 401(k) as is until I can add it to a new one at a new employer. That is of course if I ever have a new employer. Or a place to live. Or any hope for a future.
I think I've lost a little weight. I've been going for walks almost everyday if not everyday. Combine this with the fact that I don't ingest many calories because there are none to ingest and my jeans are fitting comfortably. If I can just get myself to do some sit-ups I might actually start to feel better about myself. But I hate sit-ups.
I really, really want to cut my hair because I'm bored. But I don't because every time I cut my hair I feel an extreme sense of remorse that usually moves me to tears.
We spent the evening at Mark's sister's house which meant more playing with Sophia who is just as adorable as ever even as her terrible twos start to sneak up. At one point I was at the computer working on this very post when she walked into the room chugging her milk in her footsie pjs. She's so cute and I love to snuggle her every opportunity that I get (or really that she gives me) so I beckoned her over and plopped her in my lap. She starting asking about Elmo. She doesn't really watch TV but she had a jacket with Elmo on it and it's her latest obsession. So I googled him and up came some great YouTube clips. I think my favorite was absolutely the one that I posted below. I urge you to visit it.
The funniest part to me is that at the very end I said a joke and two seconds later Elmo said the same thing. I turned to little Sophia who had stopped chugging her milk and was mesmerized by the Elmoness of it all and said "Man, if you weren't 17 months you'd realize how funny that just was."
Go here: http://youtube.com/watch?v=BgUnYzXU-Fo
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