bad mood, decent weekend

What did I do this weekend?

Saturday Jeremy and I went to Wal*Mart, as it was an excuse to get out of the apartment. We shopped for almost two hours. By the time we were done, I was ready to scream. But we made some exciting digital video disk purchases (Super Troopers, The Karate Kid, another season of Gilmore Girls), not to mention some household necessities (a big knife, a cutting board, foamy hand soap). My former co-worker Anna was supposed to come by that evening, but never showed. Ah, to be a busy and important twenty year old! It was fine, because we had talked Friday night and caught up about as much as we were going to.

Sunday we went to Portland to meet my mother for lunch at Ruby Tuesday. I got a burger. In place of cheese, I had wax paper. My meal was comped (comp'ed? compt. It was free.) as a result. From there we went to Target (the only exception to my over-shop limitations), where Jeremy got a shirt, and I got sneakers. We quickly hit Old Navy, where I got a very green sweatshirt, and Jeremy got several attractive pieces of clothing (for under $50!). Then it was Borders, for some mindless wandering before heading back home. We decided the visiting could wait until next weekend. A day with mom doesn't generally end with me wanting to spend time with people. ("Don't forget, honey, you're a terrible manipulative person who almost ruined your sister for life! What do you think of these shoes?")

I have been in a putrid mood all week. My assumption is that it's directly related to a particular time of month, but that's never been a predictable occurence, so I can't be sure. I've been extra clumsy, dropping and hitting things left and right. I was convinced that I had broken three toes on Saturday morning (running to answer the phone, I fell into the wall at a corner, forcibly bending the tiniest three toes of my left foot in an unnatural direction). Coffee's only exacerbating the grouchiness. My sleep has been weird too...every night for the last week or two, I wake up in the middle of the night, and lie there for several minutes, before drifting off again. And my dreams, though not memorable, have been very real-feeling and unpleasant. I can recall a dream about bugs. In my bathroom, on me...everywhere. In general, it sucks.

I like having the weekend off. I get the same luck next weekend, and then never again (without begging and butt-kissing at least two weeks in advance). Someday I'll work a job that allows me all the weekends I want. Not that I'm going to complain about work again. I'M getting sick of hearing my problems!

johari window

http://kevan.org/johari?name=fannie227

The Johari Window was invented by Joseph Luft and Harrington Ingram in the 1950s as a model for mapping personality awareness. By describing yourself from a fixed list of adjectives, then asking your friends and colleagues to describe you from the same list, a grid of overlap and difference can be built up.

If you want to describe me in 5+ pre-selected adjectives, click on the link at the top of the entry. I will do the same for you.

Nothing of interest to share otherwise. It's been a dull day.

algebra + candy = x; solve for frisbee

I think I'm being rewarded for surviving two weeks of hell...reward in the form of two weekends off. Not only do I have the next two Saturdays and Sundays off, but I open on both Fridays (more tasks than customers)! I close the next two Mondays, Tuesday off, open Wednesday, Thursday, and Friday, then Saturday and Sunday off. This is a schedule I can work with.

One of the weekends will probably be spent in Portland. It's inevitable. Not only do I need to give my mother money, but people would like to be visited. I can't say I blame them. We're an enigmatic pairing. (joke)

I happened to be internet-chatting with Lorrie, and typed a paragraph that included two different contractions of the same three words: I typed "you aren't" and "you're not". The fact that I used both in one sentiment seemed interesting to me. Why didn't I type one of them twice? Why did I change it up? Perhaps with instances such as these, there needs to be one super-contraction: "you'r'n't". I might be the only one interested by this, and that's okay. If my sister's reaction to this reality is an accurate gauge, then I should waste no more brain cells on this.

I've been eating lots of Dum-Dums as of late, and collecting the wrappers. According to the package, you can "Save Wraps For Stuff*". Their asterisk, not mine. It's an important asterisk, one not to be dismissed. It's what tells me (after eating the pre-requisite twenty pops, and then some) that these wrappers will not give me FREE stuff, but a discount on select Dum-Dum brand products. I went to the website to see what kind of savings my gluttony had netted, and there's no clear answer. The products don't have a regular retail price. I could get a Dum Dum frisbee for "twenty wrappers plus $1! (plus $2 shipping and handling)" The T-Shirt is twenty wrappers plus $8, plus S&H. Algebraically, let x = 20 wrappers, let y = shipping and handling, and z = the item cost. Wait. The item cost is z minus x, so z can't be the item cost. z is the cash after x. So x+y+z=? Damn it, I used to be able to do crap like this. Get rid of z. x+y+8= n. Solve for n. You can't! I can't! It's still messed up. THE POINT: I'm left to assume that without the twenty wrappers, I'm barred from purchasing Dum Dum merchandise. I'm wondering if Dum Dum wrappers can be sewn together. They might make a nice handbag. Or wallpaper.

nineteen

I unlocked the store again this morning, but this time for a gal who was hired around the same time I was, and is consistently late for work. So I clocked in this time. It turns out, being taken advantage of is easier to handle when one gets paid. I can't wait until everything's back to normal.

Considering all the work problems, I'm left to wonder about nineteen-year-olds. Are they all so...unreliable? Undependable? Where's the work ethic? It makes me wonder if I was the same way at nineteen. Are they all wired that way? At what age does reputation start to mean something? Even at a slave-wage corporation such as Movie Gallery, you have to work hard. Left to their own devices, nothing gets done. This job makes me feel OLD. Seriously. Never before have I stepped back to reflect on "kids today".

I'm sure there are exceptions. This is not a blanket statement, trashing all nineteens. This is aimed primarily at the staggering number of the ones I work with.

My brain chimes in, "Why are you at a job peppered with teenagers?"

I don't know, brain. I don't know.

I'm going to watch movies all afternoon until I have to go back into work. Tomorrow is my only day off this week. That is, unless Tami calls me in again. I hope she doesn't.

woof.

Here's my horoscope for the week:
Happy Valentine Daze, Sagittarius! The more animal noises you make during the season of love, the better you're going to feel and the more successful you're likely to be. The astrological omens indicate that cosmic rhythms will tend to align in your favor if you express a whole range of primal feelings with moans, growls, cackling, and other non-verbal sounds. P.S. If you don't pursue this agenda with conscious intent, beastly behavior might possess you at inappropriate times, such as lion-like super-yawns in the middle of a meeting or uncontrollable yapping when you're suddenly overcome by territorial instincts.

So don't mind me if I'm spitting, growling, or bleating in the corner. I'm just expressing myself.

It's been a hellish week at work so far. There's been a medical emergency, and everyone's schedules have been thrown out of whack. I got called in yesterday, my day off, and today I had to get up to let the opener into the store. I literally rolled out of bed, threw on some pants, and walked over. All I had to do was unlock the door, right? HA! An hour and a half later, almost 30 minutes after the store opened, did he show up. I opened the store, waited on customers, shelved movies...unshowered. I looked and smelled like death. And I didn't clock in, because I figured there was no point in clocking in just to unlock a door.

Anything to help.

Yes, it'll be nice to find other work.

I'm forcing myself to read today. My books are due back the 21st, and if I don't start soon, there's no way I'm going to get through them. More blog later.

good coffee, good books, and Dutch

I'm currently enjoying a steaming mugful of Green Mountain's "Golden French Toast"-flavored coffee (VERY good) and perusing my library books. That's right! LIBRARY BOOKS. I had Jeremy select them at random, because it seems like a fun game, and could result in my reading something I never would've thought to pick up otherwise. And by sharing the titles in here, it even futher forces me to read what I've been given.

-Marley and Me by John Grogan
-Early Bird by Rodney Rothman
-My Neck of the Woods by Louise Rich

Marley is a bad dog. Early Bird is "a memoir of early retirement". My Neck of the Woods is northern Maine.

I've read one book this year so far, The Pearl by John Steinbeck. I've started and stopped two other books (which I'm determined to finish at some point). It's harder to find time to read. I suppose that's why it's called a book "challenge".

I got Jeremy to watch Dutch yesterday. He liked it. But I think he knew I wanted him to like it. He didn't like it as much as I like it. I like it a lot. I've seen it on television several times since 1991. Maybe the age of first viewing has something to do with it, but I know no one who agrees that Dutch is funny. For me, before Dutch, Ed O'Neill was a talentless hack. But that all changed A.D. (after Dutch).

Okay. Enough aimless jibber-jabber for today.

if a dog craps in a video store and no one sees it...

...then it was a different dog in a different video store. I worked for an hour today, my day off, and while I was there a little yappy dog came in. Before it's owner had completed the transaction, the pup had shit near the entrance. It was either the dog or Patrick, but it far outmassed my co-worker's previous stools. I do sympathize with the embarrassed woman, who politely and apologetically cleaned up her pooch's spoils. Shit happens (pun not intended until pun made itself known, at which point pun was celebrated and raised to the heavens for praise).

I just sat down with my first coffee of the day, and am startled by the likeness in flavor to my Uncle Albert and Aunt Dele's house circa 1985...rather, the smell of the taste. If I had any ambition whatsoever, I'd study how smell and taste combine and switch off where memory is concerned. I bet it's fascinating stuff. I would think that tastes such as homemade baked beans and Canadian mints would be my tongue's memory-trigger. Or cherry 7-Up. Instead, it's a combination of Avon products, carpet sweepers, and age. Age tastes a little stale, in case you were wondering. But the chocolate non-dairy creamer really steps it up.

Things have been fairly dull. The turnaround at work is impressively high, with two more of the new hires leaving for assorted reasons. Other than being the only job I can hold in walking distance, I have a feeling that Tami would have a meltdown if I were to give notice. Not that I don't think about it daily. But she's getting one day off per week at best already, and I'm still her only other closer. I wish I hated Tami, because I wouldn't feel like I owed her any help I could give. We did get word that the former managers of Jay and Farmington Movie Galleries are coming back to the company. They can't go back to their original stores, so they're switching places. It'll be nice to have people who don't need to train in the store, but it also means that if we do move up two revenue classes next quarter, I'm no longer the most likely candidate for Assistant Store Manager. Again, it's not my dream job, but I'd be full time and have benefits...nice things for a job I can walk to. Well, I would've. I'll be hovering around minimum wage for the duration of my MG employ. (did I use "employ" right? it sounds smart enough to me, so i'm going with it.)

I don't do much other than work and watch television. I need a hobby, so I have other things to write about. Felicity hasn't been on for the last week and a half, but the DVR says it's starting back up soon.. What the dilly, We?? I'm hoping we're still blessed with way too many channels in March. (HBO = THE SOPRANOS!)

I'm exhausting, hmm? I'll wrap it up. First, though, I'll tell you that Corpse Bride is quite good. I'll also tell you that though I can't vouch for the film's quality, I learned a lot about Enron from the new documentary that came out this week. Let me just say, poor Gray Davis! The extent of the corruption was far greater than I could've imagined. And In Her Shoes is just as sisterly-lovey as I wanted it to be, while managing to be a completely different movie than anticipated.