I decided to change my blog format. The old one was fun, but I prefer the font on this one. It's a little bigger, making my words look a lot more exciting. I don't want to dwell, I just thought I should acknowledge the change.
As of Tuesday, Tami and I started walking Jay Plaza in the mornings. Today was day three. I absolutely love getting up and doing something with my morning. We go anytime between 6:00 and 6:45, depending on how we're feeling. We've managed about three miles each day so far. We then drive to Dunkin' Donuts for iced coffee, then go home to officially start our respective days. The first morning was troublesome - sometime during the third lap, my stomach started to cramp. I blamed past inactivity, and pressed on. Once we finished, and I got home, something in my colon let go. For the rest of the morning, and the better part of the afternoon, I experienced what Emily referred to as "runner's diarrhea". It's not a phenomenon I knew anything about, and it was almost enough to prevent me from ever wanting to exercise again. The only perk was waking up the next morning and feeling light. Spry, even. Yesterday was not nearly as bad, and as far as today is concerned, I've successfully dodged the bullet (so far).
Tami had a meeting with the district manager yesterday, who told her she needed to delegate responsibilities to others. Without getting into the specifics, I am now going to be the schedule maker! There's no pay increase, or guarantee of promotion or power or whatever, but I'm THRILLED by the news. I've never made a schedule before, but I've always wanted to. All the figuring and placing and the numbers, working around limitations, budgeting the allotted hours...tee!!! Maybe it's crazy to call it a dream come true, but, you know. It is. If there was one cool thing I could do at work, making the schedule is it. And that she thought of me for it is a huge compliment. Life is good.
Tomorrow we're going to Topsham for a potluck spelling bee, hosted by Dan and Tori. I'm studying for the event the same way I studied for the SATs - not at all. I'm not playing to win. I haven't been a competitive speller since grade 6. I know what I know, and I'll last as long as I was meant to last. I don't want to win. As long as I get through the first round, I'm set. We might head down early to spend some time at Target. It's sad how much I miss living in a town with a Target. Sure globalization sucks, but my affection for quirk and value disallow me from judging.
I should stop. I have more to write, but I'll save it for tomorrow.
02 June 2006
30 May 2006
uuhhhhh
I spent a good portion of yesterday reading. I stayed up until 4:45 this morning finishing Sammy's Hill, by Kristin Gore. It wasn't great, but it wasn't bad either. A bit contrived in parts, but it had some laughs. The love aspect wrapped up abruptly, but I was ready for it to be done. It was compelling enough. The political parts were interesting, because it was impossible not to assume she had drawn from life experience. President Pile sure does remind me of another four-letter president. Senator Gary? A bit paternal-seeming, if you ask me. But it's done, and today I hurt. I had planned to sleep until 11:00 or so, but Trina called at 7:30, waking me from not nearly enough sleep. I ran down the stairs, confusedly thinking that it was work, telling me that I had overslept (because I assumed it was at least 9:00), or that they desperately needed me to fill a shift. Nope! She called back right before 9:00, however, and I asked Jeremy to take a message. She's something else. Nice, but a handful. Four hours of sleep is enough to get through the day.
I did get called in today, technically. For an hour. Tami said I don't need to bother putting on Movie Gallery attire, which is a treat. I'm convinced that my overall job satisfaction would be higher if I got to wear my own clothes to work. My one red polo shirt is very old-looking, and I can never find appropriate pants. My current pair of Wal*Mart "utility pants" (purchased in the women's section - the utilitarian pockets are ripping off, as they were clearly meant to be decorative) are somewhat ugly and WAY too long. My last two pant finds were too short. I'm coming to realize that looking ridiculous from the waist down might be part of my charm.
So my today is coffee (I can smell it a-brewin'), work at 2:00, and read another library book. My current stack is due June 1st. I always let my books sit until it's too late, then try to plow through them, generally without success. I've finished nine books so far this year. That's not as close to fifty as is should be, six months into the year. Oh well! I'm 16 books off my pace, no biggie. It's a miracle I'm reading at all.
Memorial Day weekend was good. Saturday afternoon we went to a barbeque at Jeff and Jube's. Very laid back, very fun. Sunday we drove to Phillips (why not!). I wore shorts outside for the first time in two years. My legs violently rejected sunlight and the elements, but they're adjusting. Monday I had to work until three. It was a great weekend overall.
Out of curiosity, I clocked the distance around the perimeter of the Jay Plaza lot on Sunday. It's almost half a mile! I'm getting over the potential humiliation, and thinking about starting to jog it. If I go early enough, I won't have to contend with Camper Man. I'd also manage to avoid the rest of the people who patronize the plaza. The only thing preventing me from starting yesterday is my desire to jog to music. Now that I've made a plan, I want an iPod Nano. They're cute, and hold just enough songs to keep me from getting bored. Not to mention that I wouldn't jeopardize the integrity of the music tracks with heavy jostling. Which makes me wonder why anyone ever bothered inventing the Discman.
I did get called in today, technically. For an hour. Tami said I don't need to bother putting on Movie Gallery attire, which is a treat. I'm convinced that my overall job satisfaction would be higher if I got to wear my own clothes to work. My one red polo shirt is very old-looking, and I can never find appropriate pants. My current pair of Wal*Mart "utility pants" (purchased in the women's section - the utilitarian pockets are ripping off, as they were clearly meant to be decorative) are somewhat ugly and WAY too long. My last two pant finds were too short. I'm coming to realize that looking ridiculous from the waist down might be part of my charm.
So my today is coffee (I can smell it a-brewin'), work at 2:00, and read another library book. My current stack is due June 1st. I always let my books sit until it's too late, then try to plow through them, generally without success. I've finished nine books so far this year. That's not as close to fifty as is should be, six months into the year. Oh well! I'm 16 books off my pace, no biggie. It's a miracle I'm reading at all.
Memorial Day weekend was good. Saturday afternoon we went to a barbeque at Jeff and Jube's. Very laid back, very fun. Sunday we drove to Phillips (why not!). I wore shorts outside for the first time in two years. My legs violently rejected sunlight and the elements, but they're adjusting. Monday I had to work until three. It was a great weekend overall.
Out of curiosity, I clocked the distance around the perimeter of the Jay Plaza lot on Sunday. It's almost half a mile! I'm getting over the potential humiliation, and thinking about starting to jog it. If I go early enough, I won't have to contend with Camper Man. I'd also manage to avoid the rest of the people who patronize the plaza. The only thing preventing me from starting yesterday is my desire to jog to music. Now that I've made a plan, I want an iPod Nano. They're cute, and hold just enough songs to keep me from getting bored. Not to mention that I wouldn't jeopardize the integrity of the music tracks with heavy jostling. Which makes me wonder why anyone ever bothered inventing the Discman.
26 May 2006
back! (and fresher than ever)!
OOPS! Sorry, people who care about me and my life. I haven't had the time or energy to write recently, but now I'm making the time; channeling the energy. Within hours of posting my last entry, I looked out the front door to see my street torn up, with several men in hats driving trucks and staring into the ground. I guess there was a water emergency. We had water back by the end of the day. Rest assured, that smell of filth in the air isn't me.
Work has been consuming me, this week in particular. Tami's in Arizona until Sunday, and one of my co-workers has come down with a 72-hour my-boyfriend-is-visiting bug, and hasn't been able to work her shifts. As I've been left in charge, I get to fill the empty store time. So my next paycheck will be sizeable (sizeable for Movie Gallery, that is). Inventory is next week, which means an early day of coffee, doughnuts, and counting. Inventory day is also the first day of the carnival in the Ames parking lot.
Perhaps you weren't able to detect the excitement masked in that last sentence, but THERE'S A CARNIVAL COMING TO THE AMES PARKING LOT! Which, for those of you who haven't visited us in Jay (read: everyone but Michelle), means the carnival is across the street from our apartment. Thursday, Friday and Saturday, June 8-10. We are going to live at the carnival until it's gone. And, if anyone wants to overdose on fun with us any of those days, you're more than welcome to come up for a day, spend the night if you have to travel. We've got seven bags of bottles in the basement, and every penny we redeem is going to be spent on the carnival. No more, no less.
I had a dream milestone last night. For the first time, I acknowledged a dream while still dreaming. The plot, summed up, was that Elliot Yamin (of American Idol fame) fell in love with me. I apparently found a way to see the show, but it was filmed in what looked like a super-huge version of my high school gymnasium. Anyway, he was trying to hold me, and he wrote me letters, etc. Very nice. Then my sister was wheeled in several levels below us on a stretcher, and I cried (so Elliot comforted me, obviously!). Then Jeremy came in and asked what was going on. We fought, and I told him repeatedly that nothing had happened (because it never does...my brain thwarts it all), and that it was only a dream. How bizarre and self-realizing. Is that the right term? Though I was saying it, I wasn't fully aware of it until I woke up. I'm excessively impressed. Jeremy was, too.
Just realized something...if I had said "I was excessively impresed", I could've made the contraction I's. I's excessively impressed. Ha! Sounds terrible, but technically, there's nothing overtly wrong with it. Not that I plan to use it in conversation.
Work has been consuming me, this week in particular. Tami's in Arizona until Sunday, and one of my co-workers has come down with a 72-hour my-boyfriend-is-visiting bug, and hasn't been able to work her shifts. As I've been left in charge, I get to fill the empty store time. So my next paycheck will be sizeable (sizeable for Movie Gallery, that is). Inventory is next week, which means an early day of coffee, doughnuts, and counting. Inventory day is also the first day of the carnival in the Ames parking lot.
Perhaps you weren't able to detect the excitement masked in that last sentence, but THERE'S A CARNIVAL COMING TO THE AMES PARKING LOT! Which, for those of you who haven't visited us in Jay (read: everyone but Michelle), means the carnival is across the street from our apartment. Thursday, Friday and Saturday, June 8-10. We are going to live at the carnival until it's gone. And, if anyone wants to overdose on fun with us any of those days, you're more than welcome to come up for a day, spend the night if you have to travel. We've got seven bags of bottles in the basement, and every penny we redeem is going to be spent on the carnival. No more, no less.
I had a dream milestone last night. For the first time, I acknowledged a dream while still dreaming. The plot, summed up, was that Elliot Yamin (of American Idol fame) fell in love with me. I apparently found a way to see the show, but it was filmed in what looked like a super-huge version of my high school gymnasium. Anyway, he was trying to hold me, and he wrote me letters, etc. Very nice. Then my sister was wheeled in several levels below us on a stretcher, and I cried (so Elliot comforted me, obviously!). Then Jeremy came in and asked what was going on. We fought, and I told him repeatedly that nothing had happened (because it never does...my brain thwarts it all), and that it was only a dream. How bizarre and self-realizing. Is that the right term? Though I was saying it, I wasn't fully aware of it until I woke up. I'm excessively impressed. Jeremy was, too.
Just realized something...if I had said "I was excessively impresed", I could've made the contraction I's. I's excessively impressed. Ha! Sounds terrible, but technically, there's nothing overtly wrong with it. Not that I plan to use it in conversation.
14 May 2006
desert oasis
I was woken by the phone at 8:00 this morning. I got to it on the fourth ring, only to find a dial tone at the other end. Since I'm down here, I might as well pee and make coffee, I said to myself. One problem: we don't seem to have running water. You can hear a quiet, thinking-about-distributing-water sound, but nothing happens. I'm not sure if that means it's leaking out somewhere else, or what. One thing I KNOW it means? We have to clean up in order to have Arthur come in to check it out.
Water isn't a utility we pay, so it's not blatantly our fault. I don't know if something could get clogged, and effect all the pipes in the house? Or maybe Arthur did something to his pipes that effected ours. At any rate, I can't shower, flush the toilet, wash my hands, or make coffee. NOT how I like to start my day.
Water isn't a utility we pay, so it's not blatantly our fault. I don't know if something could get clogged, and effect all the pipes in the house? Or maybe Arthur did something to his pipes that effected ours. At any rate, I can't shower, flush the toilet, wash my hands, or make coffee. NOT how I like to start my day.
07 May 2006
no dream job for fannie
AAA Northern New England's Portland location is looking for a "Production Packager". Know what the job descrpition is? MAKE TRIP TIKS! It was posted on April 25th. I have no resume programs on my computer, or access to a computer with such a program. On top of that, I have never in my life written a cover letter. Not only do I not know how to start it (a problem I've always had, be it with term papers, or even blog entries), I'm not sure how I'd best articulate my qualifications:
1) Repeated Trip Tik user/enthusiast
2) Map Enjoyer
3) I LOVE DRIVING DIRECTIONS!
Two questions:
1) Do these things belong in a cover letter?
2) How do I express these statements without sounding like an asshole?
Technically, it doesn't even make sense for me to apply. The job's been posted a week already. They'll probably want to hire soon. Sooner than I'm going to be in the area. Sooner than will allow for us to move and acquire a second vehicle.
Sucky. I would absolutely love this job. How often does AAA hire Trip Tik assemblers? It doesn't seem like a job someone would give up once they had it. Nothing hints at there being an opportunity for me to have this job. Which, sadly, gives me ridiculous levels of false hope.
1) Repeated Trip Tik user/enthusiast
2) Map Enjoyer
3) I LOVE DRIVING DIRECTIONS!
Two questions:
1) Do these things belong in a cover letter?
2) How do I express these statements without sounding like an asshole?
Technically, it doesn't even make sense for me to apply. The job's been posted a week already. They'll probably want to hire soon. Sooner than I'm going to be in the area. Sooner than will allow for us to move and acquire a second vehicle.
Sucky. I would absolutely love this job. How often does AAA hire Trip Tik assemblers? It doesn't seem like a job someone would give up once they had it. Nothing hints at there being an opportunity for me to have this job. Which, sadly, gives me ridiculous levels of false hope.
04 May 2006
med head
It's too easy to fall behind with the computer. I'm two birthday cards off my pace, and minor events that necessitate fragmented half-paragraph summaries are stacking (and quickly being forgotten).
I've been sick with something for over a week. Not anything normal or easily identified. It involves coughing, something sore or swollen in my neck (I'd say throat, but it feels lower than that), and, as of yesterday, a tight, nauseous feeling in my chest. Different symptoms are showcased each day...some days I don't cough until bedtime, others I cough nonstop. Yesterday, Jeremy suggested we pick up medication. We were already at WalMart to pick up some workpants (I've split two pairs of pants under Movie Gallery's employ. Granted, I should've known better than to buy linen pants last time, but my judgement was clouded by the prettiness of the Brunswick Target), so medicine seemed like maybe a good idea. Not knowing what to look for made it tricky. I don't have a cold, or the flu really. It's a grab-bag of symptoms which translate into nothing that makes sense. I opted for Coricidin HPB Maximum Strength Flu, which covered most of my ailments with the least mention of problems I don't currently have. It helped! I took my first dose in the car, washed down with a grape Crush (which is deliciously fruity - never will I deny myself Crush for so long again). By the time we got back to the apartment, I was feeling pretty damn good (I understand why the Coricidin required ID with purchase). I wiped out on the couch about 40 minutes later, woken only to be moved upstairs two hours later. I slept in a horizontal position (progress!), and didn't wake up until morning.
Birthmas was about what I expected. Stressful, but fun. Mom showed up before 8:00 a.m., which pleased me not at all. But we had muffins and coffee, and it was fine. She told me she signed up for Match.com, and we spent the better part of the morning looking at her profile and winking at eligible bachelors. Surprisingly fun! Anne and Bart arrived around 2:30, and the festivities began. Lots of food, chit-chat, presents, movies, etc. Mom took off late Sunday morning, and Jeremy's parents left about an hour after that.
I was in Portland on Tuesday to meet up with my friend Crystal for lunch. It rained, of course. But we had lunch at the Oriental Table, and got frappes at Beal's (CAKE BATTER FRAPPE! It was great, I highly recommend it). Thoroughly drenched, we decided to drive somewhere. Since Crystal had yet to experience the South Portland Target, I happily became her enabler. That was the day that God smiled down from heaven onto my lovely wallet - all five seasons of Gilmore Girls were on sale. $22 a piece. I purchased the two seasons that rounded off my collection (with some guilt and a fair amount of deliberation). That was a good day.
I've been dreaming bizarrely - I no longer remember the specifics of this particular dream, but at one point I was in a bathroom of the 7th Heaven house, dancing awkwardly on the toilet while Verne Troyer peeped through the wall.
I hate to end there, but that's all I've got.
I've been sick with something for over a week. Not anything normal or easily identified. It involves coughing, something sore or swollen in my neck (I'd say throat, but it feels lower than that), and, as of yesterday, a tight, nauseous feeling in my chest. Different symptoms are showcased each day...some days I don't cough until bedtime, others I cough nonstop. Yesterday, Jeremy suggested we pick up medication. We were already at WalMart to pick up some workpants (I've split two pairs of pants under Movie Gallery's employ. Granted, I should've known better than to buy linen pants last time, but my judgement was clouded by the prettiness of the Brunswick Target), so medicine seemed like maybe a good idea. Not knowing what to look for made it tricky. I don't have a cold, or the flu really. It's a grab-bag of symptoms which translate into nothing that makes sense. I opted for Coricidin HPB Maximum Strength Flu, which covered most of my ailments with the least mention of problems I don't currently have. It helped! I took my first dose in the car, washed down with a grape Crush (which is deliciously fruity - never will I deny myself Crush for so long again). By the time we got back to the apartment, I was feeling pretty damn good (I understand why the Coricidin required ID with purchase). I wiped out on the couch about 40 minutes later, woken only to be moved upstairs two hours later. I slept in a horizontal position (progress!), and didn't wake up until morning.
Birthmas was about what I expected. Stressful, but fun. Mom showed up before 8:00 a.m., which pleased me not at all. But we had muffins and coffee, and it was fine. She told me she signed up for Match.com, and we spent the better part of the morning looking at her profile and winking at eligible bachelors. Surprisingly fun! Anne and Bart arrived around 2:30, and the festivities began. Lots of food, chit-chat, presents, movies, etc. Mom took off late Sunday morning, and Jeremy's parents left about an hour after that.
I was in Portland on Tuesday to meet up with my friend Crystal for lunch. It rained, of course. But we had lunch at the Oriental Table, and got frappes at Beal's (CAKE BATTER FRAPPE! It was great, I highly recommend it). Thoroughly drenched, we decided to drive somewhere. Since Crystal had yet to experience the South Portland Target, I happily became her enabler. That was the day that God smiled down from heaven onto my lovely wallet - all five seasons of Gilmore Girls were on sale. $22 a piece. I purchased the two seasons that rounded off my collection (with some guilt and a fair amount of deliberation). That was a good day.
I've been dreaming bizarrely - I no longer remember the specifics of this particular dream, but at one point I was in a bathroom of the 7th Heaven house, dancing awkwardly on the toilet while Verne Troyer peeped through the wall.
I hate to end there, but that's all I've got.
28 April 2006
let the festivities begin!
It's Birthmas weekend! Today I woke up at 7:00 a.m., independent of an alarm, and not requiring coffee to function (but still poured myself a cup of yesterday's finest, because who am I kidding?). No one is arriving today, thanks in part to my quick-thinking and knowing how to appease my mother (I promised her low-fat muffins and a nice early start to the day if she waited until Saturday to arrive. She'll be here at 8:00 tomorrow. It's a sacrifice I'm willing to make).
Today is my preparatory cleaning day. As I've mentioned before, I don't anticipate guests where cleaning is concerned. So I've got fixtures to chip toothpaste spittle off of, old bottles to toss, carpets to vacuum, walls to wash (but I'll draw the line there, because, again, who am I kidding?), plus dishes and laundry and clearing spare rooms of book sale overflow (we have yet to acquire bookshelves, so we've got mounds of old paperbacks flowing out of milk crates in every room of the apartment. Makes for good browsing?) I'm almost looking forward to cleaning. Something about turning it into a big event, where I can open windows, and burn a CD "soundtrack" of sorts, makes it exciting. Tonight, after Jeremy gets home, we're going to do some gift shopping. Every person spends $10 in stocking gifts on the others, and then buys Jeremy a birthday present...that way it's not too pricey, and no one has more presents than the birthday boy. I also need to make a cake - I have a borderline-sacrilegious design in mind (that I cleared with Jeremy's mom in advance, just in case)...it'll read "Happy Birthday Jesus and Jeremy!" and they'll be sitting around a cake, blowing out candles together. I'm thinking yellow or marble cake, with cream cheese frosting (the tastiest easy option where food coloring is concerned).
What else? Camper Man has a gun. But he also has a sane, well-dressed, nice-seeming brother, who shed some light on the situation. His existence made the gun thing way less scary. In case anyone cared (which is hard to gauge), he's apparently saving up money to buy the house he grew up in, and decided that until he had enough, he would live in his camper. The house is - you guessed it! - in Jay (which, and I feel bad saying it, all seems too sane to be true). So in the meantime, he's stalking the plaza, pissing on the seats of McDonalds, etc. On Tuesday, two of the regular kids (aged 12/13) were coming in (they hang out with whoever is working, because, according to one of their mothers, Movie Gallery is the alternative to "trouble". So they come in, we let them re-shelf movies, and give them a free soda in exchange) as Camper Man was going into Wah Garden, the Chinese food establishment one door to the left. He pulled one of the kids aside as the other entered the store. He had told the kid not to come into Movie Gallery, because the boy who had just gone in was going to steal. The kid came in and told us what had just transpired, and I was pissed. If Camper Man had come in after that, Bad Fannie would've ripped him a new one. You don't DO that! He doesn't know the kid he labeled as a thief! He's a sweeping judgement kind of guy. I've had a few crazy interactions with him...but he's stopped coming in for the most part. That guy better have mental problems, or else he's the hugest, creepiest asshole on the planet.
Well, I suppose I should start my day. Jeremy will be getting up soon. I'll make my cleaning CD while he showers, then jump into my day. If you don't hear from me by the end of the weekend, then the stress killed me. Don't send flowers - just make a donation in my name to the charity of your choice. Or buy yourself some nice shoes.
Today is my preparatory cleaning day. As I've mentioned before, I don't anticipate guests where cleaning is concerned. So I've got fixtures to chip toothpaste spittle off of, old bottles to toss, carpets to vacuum, walls to wash (but I'll draw the line there, because, again, who am I kidding?), plus dishes and laundry and clearing spare rooms of book sale overflow (we have yet to acquire bookshelves, so we've got mounds of old paperbacks flowing out of milk crates in every room of the apartment. Makes for good browsing?) I'm almost looking forward to cleaning. Something about turning it into a big event, where I can open windows, and burn a CD "soundtrack" of sorts, makes it exciting. Tonight, after Jeremy gets home, we're going to do some gift shopping. Every person spends $10 in stocking gifts on the others, and then buys Jeremy a birthday present...that way it's not too pricey, and no one has more presents than the birthday boy. I also need to make a cake - I have a borderline-sacrilegious design in mind (that I cleared with Jeremy's mom in advance, just in case)...it'll read "Happy Birthday Jesus and Jeremy!" and they'll be sitting around a cake, blowing out candles together. I'm thinking yellow or marble cake, with cream cheese frosting (the tastiest easy option where food coloring is concerned).
What else? Camper Man has a gun. But he also has a sane, well-dressed, nice-seeming brother, who shed some light on the situation. His existence made the gun thing way less scary. In case anyone cared (which is hard to gauge), he's apparently saving up money to buy the house he grew up in, and decided that until he had enough, he would live in his camper. The house is - you guessed it! - in Jay (which, and I feel bad saying it, all seems too sane to be true). So in the meantime, he's stalking the plaza, pissing on the seats of McDonalds, etc. On Tuesday, two of the regular kids (aged 12/13) were coming in (they hang out with whoever is working, because, according to one of their mothers, Movie Gallery is the alternative to "trouble". So they come in, we let them re-shelf movies, and give them a free soda in exchange) as Camper Man was going into Wah Garden, the Chinese food establishment one door to the left. He pulled one of the kids aside as the other entered the store. He had told the kid not to come into Movie Gallery, because the boy who had just gone in was going to steal. The kid came in and told us what had just transpired, and I was pissed. If Camper Man had come in after that, Bad Fannie would've ripped him a new one. You don't DO that! He doesn't know the kid he labeled as a thief! He's a sweeping judgement kind of guy. I've had a few crazy interactions with him...but he's stopped coming in for the most part. That guy better have mental problems, or else he's the hugest, creepiest asshole on the planet.
Well, I suppose I should start my day. Jeremy will be getting up soon. I'll make my cleaning CD while he showers, then jump into my day. If you don't hear from me by the end of the weekend, then the stress killed me. Don't send flowers - just make a donation in my name to the charity of your choice. Or buy yourself some nice shoes.
13 April 2006
smarter, fitter, cleaner (almost.)
Twice in the past two weeks, first by an old man and second by a five-year-old boy, I've been told I should finish college. In neither instance were we discussing college, or even my personal history. I don't tend to engage customers - especially the pre-school aged ones - with my schooling history. Weird, right? How do kids that young even know what college is?
Work's been pretty good. I work lots of day shifts now, which is a nice change. More tasks! Mondays are my favorite day of the week these days...I spend most of the day shifting the wall while Tami helps customers, then we order lunch and spend the rest of the afternoon sitting around.
As the weather gets nicer, the shifts feel longer. The difference between last week and this week, customer-wise, has been shocking. From 1-6 yesterday I saw, at most, nine customers. This doesn't include people who drop off a movie and leave, because they tend to ignore my pleasantries. I quickly run out of things to do. And since Camper Man started parking across the street in the deserted Jay Family Restaurant parking lot, with the vehicle facing Jay Plaza (and since we also learned that as of late he's become quite the picture taker), I don't like going outside. So I've taken to entertaining myself indoors. Earlier in the week I walked laps through the aisles. A different kind of walk each pass. Some hip-intensive crazy walks, some speed, some slow, some ?, and yesterday I turned the center lane into a catwalk of sorts. I went to the back of the store and faced forward. From there I would jog to the $5 bins (not too far from the counter), and then backwards jog back to the back of the store. I felt and looked retarded, but also invigorated and refreshed. Since I've yet to start jogging outside (between the surprise mini snow storm and my gross cold, nature's been throwing symbolic wrenches into my plans, perhaps telling me that I should not run?), these spurts of cardiovascular activity are the next best thing...not to mention that an hour of aerobic ass-making nets me $6. And it passes the time. Win-win-win!
It's either a sign of age, general maturity, or speaks to the quality of their programming, but The History Channel has been airing a ten-part series called "10 Days that Unexpectedly Changed America", and it's fantastic. Ten hour-long documentaries, each featuring a particular country-shaping event, airing two per night (culminating tonight with days nine and ten). I'm riveted! Either I didn't give a crap about history before, or maybe the History Channel weaves a web better than any of my history teachers ever did, but I feel...I don't even know. Smarter. More involved. Like I want to know more. I've been turned onto the Science Channel in the last year, too. I recently failed an attempt at Carl Sagan's "Cosmos" - every time I sat down to a new installment, I immediately fell asleep. Not that the cosmos aren't fascinating, just that Carl Sagan's a calm and sleepy kind of guy.
Easter is this Sunday. I have no plans. Next weekend I go to Portland for Michelle's birthday, and the weekend after that is Birthmas. As of yet, I'm not stressing out, because last time I spoke to my mother we had a pretty good conversation. I have plenty of cleaning to do in the meantime. I made sure to get Friday of that week off, so I could bleach and spray every surface of our home. Why I don't keep up with this stuff, I will never know. Where's the excitement in being prepared for guests, right?
Work's been pretty good. I work lots of day shifts now, which is a nice change. More tasks! Mondays are my favorite day of the week these days...I spend most of the day shifting the wall while Tami helps customers, then we order lunch and spend the rest of the afternoon sitting around.
As the weather gets nicer, the shifts feel longer. The difference between last week and this week, customer-wise, has been shocking. From 1-6 yesterday I saw, at most, nine customers. This doesn't include people who drop off a movie and leave, because they tend to ignore my pleasantries. I quickly run out of things to do. And since Camper Man started parking across the street in the deserted Jay Family Restaurant parking lot, with the vehicle facing Jay Plaza (and since we also learned that as of late he's become quite the picture taker), I don't like going outside. So I've taken to entertaining myself indoors. Earlier in the week I walked laps through the aisles. A different kind of walk each pass. Some hip-intensive crazy walks, some speed, some slow, some ?, and yesterday I turned the center lane into a catwalk of sorts. I went to the back of the store and faced forward. From there I would jog to the $5 bins (not too far from the counter), and then backwards jog back to the back of the store. I felt and looked retarded, but also invigorated and refreshed. Since I've yet to start jogging outside (between the surprise mini snow storm and my gross cold, nature's been throwing symbolic wrenches into my plans, perhaps telling me that I should not run?), these spurts of cardiovascular activity are the next best thing...not to mention that an hour of aerobic ass-making nets me $6. And it passes the time. Win-win-win!
It's either a sign of age, general maturity, or speaks to the quality of their programming, but The History Channel has been airing a ten-part series called "10 Days that Unexpectedly Changed America", and it's fantastic. Ten hour-long documentaries, each featuring a particular country-shaping event, airing two per night (culminating tonight with days nine and ten). I'm riveted! Either I didn't give a crap about history before, or maybe the History Channel weaves a web better than any of my history teachers ever did, but I feel...I don't even know. Smarter. More involved. Like I want to know more. I've been turned onto the Science Channel in the last year, too. I recently failed an attempt at Carl Sagan's "Cosmos" - every time I sat down to a new installment, I immediately fell asleep. Not that the cosmos aren't fascinating, just that Carl Sagan's a calm and sleepy kind of guy.
Easter is this Sunday. I have no plans. Next weekend I go to Portland for Michelle's birthday, and the weekend after that is Birthmas. As of yet, I'm not stressing out, because last time I spoke to my mother we had a pretty good conversation. I have plenty of cleaning to do in the meantime. I made sure to get Friday of that week off, so I could bleach and spray every surface of our home. Why I don't keep up with this stuff, I will never know. Where's the excitement in being prepared for guests, right?
30 March 2006
ship it good
We went to Portland last weekend. We left Jay around 10:30 a.m. Saturday, in order to get to the Portland Public Library by noon (they were having their book sale, and noon was when prices were slashed - ten cents per paperback, fifty cents per hardcover). We, as always, were late, but Emily S., who met us there, knew this was likely going to be the case. She herself had just gotten there when we arrived at ten past. We talked, mocked, browsed and made purchases. I think we were at the religion table when I was sharing my UMF tale, about not being accepted, about hearing that they weren't necessarily a non-traditional campus, feeling weird about it, etc., when a strange gal (late twenties, early thirties?) came up to me. I will abridge the encounter.
"Hi, did you just say University of Maine in Farmington? I just applied there. I have a 3.0, what was your GPA? (my answer: "Actually, I don't know.") I've been told I'm inspirational, I survived cancer you know. Then there was the abuse. I just submitted my essay. I think I'll get in. So you didn't get in? I think I have a good shot. Do you think I'll get in? I've been told I'm an inspiration."
There were also questions about how Emily and I knew each other. Jeremy had long since defected to a far corner of the auditorium. Emily eventually followed. I did my best to maintain politeness while this girl followed me around the book sale. I later managed a subtle, natural escape. Not that I didn't feel sorry for this girl. I don't imagine she has many friends to talk to if she can walk up to strangers and unload like that. But it's hard to sympathize when your sad tale so perfectly highlights my general feeling of inferiority. I threw lots of "that DOES sound inspirational! I'm sure, despite the university's tendency not to admit non-traditional students, that you will be the exception to the rule." and "yeah, my GPA was nowhere near 3.0, so that'll help."
From there, we went to the public market for coffee. We caught up (we hadn't seen each other in who knows how long, and had been trying to make plans to get together for the last ten months), reminisced, and went to browse at Material Objects. We didn't last long there, and parted ways shortly thereafter. We stopped in at Clay City to make plans with the other Emily, and popped into Videoport to visit and get movies. Jeremy and I had a late lunch at the Oriental Table (the best food on the eastern seaboard).
We went to Michelle and David's from there, where we met their new cat, and watched The Adventures of Pete and Pete on DVD. Emily came over after work, and she, me and Michelle went to Target. There was lots of almost-purchasing, and Michelle inadvertently asked a stockboy we had just deemed excessively bootylicious about where we might find contact paper. We had Target Dogs, and an enlightening debate over natural cures for yeast infections (garlic vs yogurt). I think it was the first time we all hung out together, without the men. It was the highlight of my weekend.
Once we were back, we watched three Garfield specials, and prepared ourselves for Ruskis. We went at 11:00, and were the first ones there. A few people later tricked in, and it was a nice, calm evening. Emily S. showed up, as she's dating one of Jeremy's Videoport pals, so I spent a large portion of the evening chatting with her. From there we went back to Dennis's, watched some Robot Chicken (not a funny show, but not unfunny either), and went to bed. The next morning we woke up entirely too early, and went to breakfast with Jackie. We stopped in to see if Em and the Joes were around, but alas, they were out. Which worked fine for us, because we were ready to go home.
___
Every Wednesday, the following week's new releases are sent to us via Fed Ex. Our Fed Ex guy is exceptionally nice-looking. Tami and I are the only ones who ever have to deal with him, so we will talk about his hair cut, how he shaved his beard, etc. At one point he was a quiet and shy delivery guy. Last week, however, the movies came on Tuesday, and Tami was there alone. She's a tell-it-like-it-is type, and I think she told it. Right to him. Because yesterday, Mr. Fex Ex Ground came in, and was perky and chatty... I commented on the exceptional temperatures outside, and he told me that he was going to have to pull out the Fex Ex shorts soon, because he was getting sweaty and people were complaining! And he said it with the shamelessness of a guy who's suddenly found his confidence. Naughty Fex Ex guy! I laughed about his shorts for the rest of the afternoon. Shameless, I tell you. I love this town.
"Hi, did you just say University of Maine in Farmington? I just applied there. I have a 3.0, what was your GPA? (my answer: "Actually, I don't know.") I've been told I'm inspirational, I survived cancer you know. Then there was the abuse. I just submitted my essay. I think I'll get in. So you didn't get in? I think I have a good shot. Do you think I'll get in? I've been told I'm an inspiration."
There were also questions about how Emily and I knew each other. Jeremy had long since defected to a far corner of the auditorium. Emily eventually followed. I did my best to maintain politeness while this girl followed me around the book sale. I later managed a subtle, natural escape. Not that I didn't feel sorry for this girl. I don't imagine she has many friends to talk to if she can walk up to strangers and unload like that. But it's hard to sympathize when your sad tale so perfectly highlights my general feeling of inferiority. I threw lots of "that DOES sound inspirational! I'm sure, despite the university's tendency not to admit non-traditional students, that you will be the exception to the rule." and "yeah, my GPA was nowhere near 3.0, so that'll help."
From there, we went to the public market for coffee. We caught up (we hadn't seen each other in who knows how long, and had been trying to make plans to get together for the last ten months), reminisced, and went to browse at Material Objects. We didn't last long there, and parted ways shortly thereafter. We stopped in at Clay City to make plans with the other Emily, and popped into Videoport to visit and get movies. Jeremy and I had a late lunch at the Oriental Table (the best food on the eastern seaboard).
We went to Michelle and David's from there, where we met their new cat, and watched The Adventures of Pete and Pete on DVD. Emily came over after work, and she, me and Michelle went to Target. There was lots of almost-purchasing, and Michelle inadvertently asked a stockboy we had just deemed excessively bootylicious about where we might find contact paper. We had Target Dogs, and an enlightening debate over natural cures for yeast infections (garlic vs yogurt). I think it was the first time we all hung out together, without the men. It was the highlight of my weekend.
Once we were back, we watched three Garfield specials, and prepared ourselves for Ruskis. We went at 11:00, and were the first ones there. A few people later tricked in, and it was a nice, calm evening. Emily S. showed up, as she's dating one of Jeremy's Videoport pals, so I spent a large portion of the evening chatting with her. From there we went back to Dennis's, watched some Robot Chicken (not a funny show, but not unfunny either), and went to bed. The next morning we woke up entirely too early, and went to breakfast with Jackie. We stopped in to see if Em and the Joes were around, but alas, they were out. Which worked fine for us, because we were ready to go home.
___
Every Wednesday, the following week's new releases are sent to us via Fed Ex. Our Fed Ex guy is exceptionally nice-looking. Tami and I are the only ones who ever have to deal with him, so we will talk about his hair cut, how he shaved his beard, etc. At one point he was a quiet and shy delivery guy. Last week, however, the movies came on Tuesday, and Tami was there alone. She's a tell-it-like-it-is type, and I think she told it. Right to him. Because yesterday, Mr. Fex Ex Ground came in, and was perky and chatty... I commented on the exceptional temperatures outside, and he told me that he was going to have to pull out the Fex Ex shorts soon, because he was getting sweaty and people were complaining! And he said it with the shamelessness of a guy who's suddenly found his confidence. Naughty Fex Ex guy! I laughed about his shorts for the rest of the afternoon. Shameless, I tell you. I love this town.
23 March 2006
pu pu for who?
I had coffee for the first (...and second...and third) time this morning since last week. My addiction was being fueled by something else completely. FULL THROTTLE FURY! It's the Coca Cola energy drink that Movie Gallery bigwigs decided to stock our cooler with. I tried it out of curiosity (because its arrival instigated the creepiest, most insane conversation with Camper Man I've ever had to endure), and was immediately hooked. To taste, it's kind of like tangerine and pomegranate, plus carbonation. One 16-ounce can will jack you up beyond acceptable levels of crazy. Needless to say, we all got hooked. They originally sent twenty-four. Between five of us, it was gone within the week. I'm desperate for more to be delivered. There's no guarantee of that happening. Some poor hack in Alabama ultimately decides whether I ever get to enjoy the sweet caffeinated nectar again. To make matters worse, no one else in the area stocks this liquid gold! It's cruel, really.
I'm increasingly conflicted about MySpace. I'm being found by people I haven't spoken to in years. My high school is simultaneously discovering the site, and suddenly it's like Classmates.com, but without having to pay money. But there's something flawed in addressing everyone you know at the same time. I can't really write blogs there, because not everyone gets the funny! Many people aren't privvy to what's in Fannie's head. I'm constantly editing and censoring myself. Not that that's a bad thing...thinking about what I'm saying tends to be good for me...but there are limits. Still, it's interesting. *sigh*
Things are pretty calm. Life's been living itself for the most part. March has flown by. Oh, the ladybugs are back. A sign that spring has sprung? Sure! But we're still sleeping on the floor. It seems like too-easy access. We seriously need to buy a bed.
April Walsh is going to be ridiculously famous. Why? Because I said so. And she could totally play 16, ask anyone.
Jeremy and I are going to Portland this weekend. It's been awhile since we've seen anyone, and our schedules worked themselves out enough to allow a trip. Almost everyone we know lives in Portland, which means that by the time Sunday rolls around, we'll be back to never again wanting to associate with people.
We're officially thinking about moving. Sometime between May and September, preferably to the Brunswick area. It's close enough to places we like to be while also being a comfortable 30-minutes from everything we sometimes like to avoid. And they just built a Target in Topsham! Is that a sign or what?!
And as abruptly as it began, it ends.
I'm increasingly conflicted about MySpace. I'm being found by people I haven't spoken to in years. My high school is simultaneously discovering the site, and suddenly it's like Classmates.com, but without having to pay money. But there's something flawed in addressing everyone you know at the same time. I can't really write blogs there, because not everyone gets the funny! Many people aren't privvy to what's in Fannie's head. I'm constantly editing and censoring myself. Not that that's a bad thing...thinking about what I'm saying tends to be good for me...but there are limits. Still, it's interesting. *sigh*
Things are pretty calm. Life's been living itself for the most part. March has flown by. Oh, the ladybugs are back. A sign that spring has sprung? Sure! But we're still sleeping on the floor. It seems like too-easy access. We seriously need to buy a bed.
April Walsh is going to be ridiculously famous. Why? Because I said so. And she could totally play 16, ask anyone.
Jeremy and I are going to Portland this weekend. It's been awhile since we've seen anyone, and our schedules worked themselves out enough to allow a trip. Almost everyone we know lives in Portland, which means that by the time Sunday rolls around, we'll be back to never again wanting to associate with people.
We're officially thinking about moving. Sometime between May and September, preferably to the Brunswick area. It's close enough to places we like to be while also being a comfortable 30-minutes from everything we sometimes like to avoid. And they just built a Target in Topsham! Is that a sign or what?!
And as abruptly as it began, it ends.
14 March 2006
thank heavens for little girls selling overpriced cookies
I found a girl scout!
Penny, aunt of Tami (and co-Movie Gallery worker from another store), has a daughter who's a scout. I overheard cookie talk yesterday, and managed to make it known that I was more than willing to make the acquisition of cookies worthwhile for everyone involved. I got a box each of what used to be Samoas and Tagalongs, and a box of Thin Mints (everyone likes Thin Mints!) Much to my surprise, they were delivered today. (Tami bought roughly a case of each cookie, so she's selling off her wares. The girl scouts generally make their rounds in January, I'm told). So I made a pot of coffee, and limiting myself to two of each cookie today. I pounded the "Peanut Butter Patties" (sounds stupid, doesn't it? Maybe a letter-writing campaign might convince Girl Scouts of America to change the names back?) before changing out of my work clothes, and am currently savoring my Samoas (I forget the new name...it's not worth remembering). Thin Mints, however, are an after-dinner cookie. They're for later.
After work I decided to change into a shirt I don't often wear. I spend almost all my time in a red polo shirt and khaki pants. Ninety-nine percent of the time, I'll come home and change into one of two hooded sweatshirts (the green or the brown stripey) and pajama pants. Most of my clothing never gets worn. Between not fitting as well as it used to, and not being warm enough (we heat as little as possible), most of my wardrobe gets no face time. I opted for a tan and black striped turtleneck that I bought from a thrift store in Washington, and I hate it. It's a great shirt...but it doesn't silence the voice telling me that the green sweatshirt has yet to reach it's filth maximum, and is still entirely wearable.
Huh, what other girly and uninteresting things can I talk about? My hair! It's long now. Not long long, but longer than any other time in my life. I've always been a short-hair person. But right now I have a pony tail on top of my head, and most of it is still in the elastic! It's bizarre. I finally learned how to break through the awkward-length desperation trim:
Step 1: Spend the better part of the year unemployed, allowing bills to pile up. Poverty plays a key role in hair growth.
Step 2: Move to the foothills of western Maine, where you could sooner find four wheeler outfitters than hairdressers.
Step 3: Date someone who refuses to cut the back of your hair, even if you're only asking them to cut a straight line, and you'd set the length by cutting the sides in advance.
It's as easy as that, ladies (and gents...though you should know, your hair looks better short). Within six months, your hair will cease to spike when you put it up (you'll miss the spikes, as they were kind of funny, but you'll eventually move on). I might eventually cut it, but probably not before we move. The effort isn't worth the hassle, and it doesn't look awkward anymore. Not that I ever wear it down. I'm not a long-hair person. Pony tail, 24-7.
Penny, aunt of Tami (and co-Movie Gallery worker from another store), has a daughter who's a scout. I overheard cookie talk yesterday, and managed to make it known that I was more than willing to make the acquisition of cookies worthwhile for everyone involved. I got a box each of what used to be Samoas and Tagalongs, and a box of Thin Mints (everyone likes Thin Mints!) Much to my surprise, they were delivered today. (Tami bought roughly a case of each cookie, so she's selling off her wares. The girl scouts generally make their rounds in January, I'm told). So I made a pot of coffee, and limiting myself to two of each cookie today. I pounded the "Peanut Butter Patties" (sounds stupid, doesn't it? Maybe a letter-writing campaign might convince Girl Scouts of America to change the names back?) before changing out of my work clothes, and am currently savoring my Samoas (I forget the new name...it's not worth remembering). Thin Mints, however, are an after-dinner cookie. They're for later.
After work I decided to change into a shirt I don't often wear. I spend almost all my time in a red polo shirt and khaki pants. Ninety-nine percent of the time, I'll come home and change into one of two hooded sweatshirts (the green or the brown stripey) and pajama pants. Most of my clothing never gets worn. Between not fitting as well as it used to, and not being warm enough (we heat as little as possible), most of my wardrobe gets no face time. I opted for a tan and black striped turtleneck that I bought from a thrift store in Washington, and I hate it. It's a great shirt...but it doesn't silence the voice telling me that the green sweatshirt has yet to reach it's filth maximum, and is still entirely wearable.
Huh, what other girly and uninteresting things can I talk about? My hair! It's long now. Not long long, but longer than any other time in my life. I've always been a short-hair person. But right now I have a pony tail on top of my head, and most of it is still in the elastic! It's bizarre. I finally learned how to break through the awkward-length desperation trim:
Step 1: Spend the better part of the year unemployed, allowing bills to pile up. Poverty plays a key role in hair growth.
Step 2: Move to the foothills of western Maine, where you could sooner find four wheeler outfitters than hairdressers.
Step 3: Date someone who refuses to cut the back of your hair, even if you're only asking them to cut a straight line, and you'd set the length by cutting the sides in advance.
It's as easy as that, ladies (and gents...though you should know, your hair looks better short). Within six months, your hair will cease to spike when you put it up (you'll miss the spikes, as they were kind of funny, but you'll eventually move on). I might eventually cut it, but probably not before we move. The effort isn't worth the hassle, and it doesn't look awkward anymore. Not that I ever wear it down. I'm not a long-hair person. Pony tail, 24-7.
10 March 2006
on my general health
One morning last week, as I prepared myself for work, I noticed that I looked...different. I couldn't pinpoint what had changed. "Have I aged?" "Am I tan?" I asked Jeremy. He wasn't sure. Were my eyebrows plucked into a shape foreign to my face? Not as far as I could tell. I finished getting ready with little thought on the matter, and went about my day as any other. Last night, I figured it out. Expansion.
My face is larger.
Not behemoth large, but let's say I were to trip and land on my head. The fall would be cushioned. I clearly remember the resolution to make an effort to stand and wave my arms around every once in awhile. So far, the standing more closely resembles sitting, and the waving of arms has been replaced with general motionlessness. And it's not just my face. It's also my upper arms, thighs and abdomen. My neck, god bless it, still looks sleek as ever. But at the rate of expansion going on just to the north, my head mass will inevitably crush vertebras C1 thru 7 faster than the decision to wait another ten minutes to get up to pee.
So I'm snapping into action! I'm starting small...crunches and sitbacks (the opposite of the sit-up; I throw my torso face-first over the arm of the couch, and use my back to pull myself up). Fifteen of each today, because I'm not in good shape. Tomorrow I'm pulling out the dumbbells to do arm stuff. Also, after some chatting with Emily, I've decided to attempt jogging. The recent snowfall influenced the delay in setting a start date. I'm thinking maybe April 1st (which is appropriate, since jogging will be a huge practical joke on my cardiovascular system). In the meantime I'll be physically preparing. I remembered the existence of the "Couch to 5K", and will follow it. I'm pretty jazzed about it. My stomach is a worthless lump of flesh right now, but my back is fitter than I anticipated.
That's all on the subject for now. I have other things to talk about. Namely, Good Night, and Good Luck. I contemplated expounding at length about how much I love this movie, and why. But I don't want to overhype it. I will say that if you don't plan to watch it, you will be missing out. I liked the way it was approached, the way it was shot...I ADORED the cast (even Patricia Clarkson, who I'm still not sure why she keeps showing up in movies). The commentary was great, the featurette is entirely watchable...I'm saying too much. Forget my fawning. Instead, I'll say "it's a good movie". If you happen to love it, tell me. I could talk about this movie all day. It comes out Tuesday.
My face is larger.
Not behemoth large, but let's say I were to trip and land on my head. The fall would be cushioned. I clearly remember the resolution to make an effort to stand and wave my arms around every once in awhile. So far, the standing more closely resembles sitting, and the waving of arms has been replaced with general motionlessness. And it's not just my face. It's also my upper arms, thighs and abdomen. My neck, god bless it, still looks sleek as ever. But at the rate of expansion going on just to the north, my head mass will inevitably crush vertebras C1 thru 7 faster than the decision to wait another ten minutes to get up to pee.
So I'm snapping into action! I'm starting small...crunches and sitbacks (the opposite of the sit-up; I throw my torso face-first over the arm of the couch, and use my back to pull myself up). Fifteen of each today, because I'm not in good shape. Tomorrow I'm pulling out the dumbbells to do arm stuff. Also, after some chatting with Emily, I've decided to attempt jogging. The recent snowfall influenced the delay in setting a start date. I'm thinking maybe April 1st (which is appropriate, since jogging will be a huge practical joke on my cardiovascular system). In the meantime I'll be physically preparing. I remembered the existence of the "Couch to 5K", and will follow it. I'm pretty jazzed about it. My stomach is a worthless lump of flesh right now, but my back is fitter than I anticipated.
That's all on the subject for now. I have other things to talk about. Namely, Good Night, and Good Luck. I contemplated expounding at length about how much I love this movie, and why. But I don't want to overhype it. I will say that if you don't plan to watch it, you will be missing out. I liked the way it was approached, the way it was shot...I ADORED the cast (even Patricia Clarkson, who I'm still not sure why she keeps showing up in movies). The commentary was great, the featurette is entirely watchable...I'm saying too much. Forget my fawning. Instead, I'll say "it's a good movie". If you happen to love it, tell me. I could talk about this movie all day. It comes out Tuesday.
08 March 2006
because it looked fun.
Ten Top Trivia Tips about Fannie!
- The fannie-fighting market in the Philippines is huge - several thousand fannie-fights take place there every day!
- Fannie can fly at an average speed of fifteen kilometres an hour.
- Without fannie, we would have to pollinate apple trees by hand!
- Fannie has a memory span of three seconds.
- Fannie can sleep with one eye open.
- The military salute is a motion that evolved from medieval times, when knights in armour raised their visors to reveal fannie.
- If you cut fannie in half and count the number of seeds inside, you will know how many children you are going to have.
- Fannie was banned from Finland because of not wearing pants.
- Thirty-five percent of the people who use personal ads for dating are fannie.
- Influenza got its name because people believed the disease was caused by the evil "influence" of fannie.
06 March 2006
i hate the oscars
Crash was NOT the best motion picture of 2005.
If you're asking me (let's pretend, shall we?), Crash was manipulative. I'm not going to pity characters who haven't earned my sympathy. Just because your life is hard doesn't mean you get to be an asshole. There were moments that weren't terrbile, but on the whole I felt like my feelings for the characters were being dictated to me. The script was mostly weak, and yeah. Me no likey the Crash.
But at least it was a surprise. Did you notice that, for the most part, the category favorites were the eventual winners? How boring.
Reese Witherspoon was good in Walk the Line, but she wasn't Academy Award-winning good. But Joaquin Phoenix was. I'm surprised to be be saying it, because reading about the movie and seeing previews didn't prepare me for how truly excellent a Johnny Cash he was. I managed to forget that he was Joaquin. And that, to me, is good acting. Not that Phillip Seymour Hoffman wasn't worthy. I haven't seen Capote yet (due out on DVD March 14th! Same day, might I add, as Good Night, And Good Luck). I'm just saying that if Walk the Line was going to win awards for acting, the wrong person was recognized.
John Stewart didn't wow me. Maybe it's because I wanted him to. He's no Billy Crystal. To make it better, I'm making him responsible for everyone receiving their awards on stage again. Good job, John! Thanks for setting the suits at the Academy straight!!!
And you know what? George Clooney is really sexy. Whether he's technically my type or not, the man will not be denied!
That's about all the commentary I've got. We attempted to make viewing the Oscars a special celebration of sorts, and bought several movie-appropriate snacks from Hannaford shortly before showtime. Kettle popcorn, pull & peel Twizzlers, Jimmy Dean breakfast sandwiches (which made my morning coffee even more enjoyable), IBC cream soda, and the most disgusting flavor of Skittles known to man. Take my advice: Smoothie Skittles are not worth the money or the heartache. Jeremy has taken to calling them "candle bites".
It occured to me yesterday that the Oscars are aired on television, and then are eligible for an Emmy...shouldn't, in turn, the Emmys be a movie, and eligible to win an Oscar? Is this a sign, perhaps, that television is the more powerful medium? I'm just saying... don't step to the TV, friends.
If you're asking me (let's pretend, shall we?), Crash was manipulative. I'm not going to pity characters who haven't earned my sympathy. Just because your life is hard doesn't mean you get to be an asshole. There were moments that weren't terrbile, but on the whole I felt like my feelings for the characters were being dictated to me. The script was mostly weak, and yeah. Me no likey the Crash.
But at least it was a surprise. Did you notice that, for the most part, the category favorites were the eventual winners? How boring.
Reese Witherspoon was good in Walk the Line, but she wasn't Academy Award-winning good. But Joaquin Phoenix was. I'm surprised to be be saying it, because reading about the movie and seeing previews didn't prepare me for how truly excellent a Johnny Cash he was. I managed to forget that he was Joaquin. And that, to me, is good acting. Not that Phillip Seymour Hoffman wasn't worthy. I haven't seen Capote yet (due out on DVD March 14th! Same day, might I add, as Good Night, And Good Luck). I'm just saying that if Walk the Line was going to win awards for acting, the wrong person was recognized.
John Stewart didn't wow me. Maybe it's because I wanted him to. He's no Billy Crystal. To make it better, I'm making him responsible for everyone receiving their awards on stage again. Good job, John! Thanks for setting the suits at the Academy straight!!!
And you know what? George Clooney is really sexy. Whether he's technically my type or not, the man will not be denied!
That's about all the commentary I've got. We attempted to make viewing the Oscars a special celebration of sorts, and bought several movie-appropriate snacks from Hannaford shortly before showtime. Kettle popcorn, pull & peel Twizzlers, Jimmy Dean breakfast sandwiches (which made my morning coffee even more enjoyable), IBC cream soda, and the most disgusting flavor of Skittles known to man. Take my advice: Smoothie Skittles are not worth the money or the heartache. Jeremy has taken to calling them "candle bites".
It occured to me yesterday that the Oscars are aired on television, and then are eligible for an Emmy...shouldn't, in turn, the Emmys be a movie, and eligible to win an Oscar? Is this a sign, perhaps, that television is the more powerful medium? I'm just saying... don't step to the TV, friends.
02 March 2006
pleasant valley tuesday
Tuesday was perfect.
I had the day off, which generally makes waking up more joyous. Jeremy mentioned he was considering taking the day off. I said nothing, because if I've learned anything in the last several years, it's that my opinion doesn't always help particular matters, particularly when "badness" is involved. I settled on saying "I'm pro- whatever...work is good, but so is a day off together." That way, I'm not saying "well, you should probably go to work," thus killing the excitement of the suggestion, while at the same time I'm mildly encouraging him to play hookey. Because Tuesday morning I could think of nothing I wanted more than for Jeremy to take a sick day and tool around town with me.
I had to unlock the store for one of the new girls, so I ran across the street at 9:00 a.m. to do so. By the time I got back, Jeremy had made the necessary call. So we took showers, and prepped for a day out. Having received his paycheck the previous day, we went to the bank so Jeremy could cash and deposit his check. We paid off our last outstanding bill from Seattle, not to mention the furniture credit, and a utility (not sure which one. we stagger them). From there we stopped at "A Touch of Class", a thrift store in Farmington. EXTREMELY disappointing. They had a wide selection of unique cologne bottles, most still full of (what we assumed was) their original cologne. Bitter, stinging, old-man scents. One of them was in a glass turkey bottle. I can't remember the others, but they were equally bizarre and seemingly inapprorpiate.
Next stop: Wal*Mart! Because for us, there's no other reason to go to Farmington. Our most recent trips have all resulted in successful DVD purchases. Tuesday was no exception. Jeremy bought the special edition of Jaws for $13, and he got me the two-disk The Parent Trap/The Parent Trap 2 set...two of the only movies my mother deemed worthy when I was seven and eight years old. We toyed with buying a Nintendo DS, the system that supports the newest version of Animal Crossing. But the enjoyment of meals eventually beat it out, as we've not done a proper grocery shop in several weeks.
We went to Wilton from there, in hopes of finding a good place to get lunch. We stopped at the New Great Wall, a small Chinese establishment. It felt a little creaky inside, but not altogether terrible. Jeremy didn't agree, and loudly told me he forgot his wallet in the car in order to get us out. We walked to The Boiler Room from there, which is supposedly a nice place, but they were closed. No lunch in the winter! So we went back to Farmington - to Fortune Fountain (I think?), the Chinese restaurant next to Wal*Mart. They had a fountain inside - go figure! The food was pretty much what we expected, with the exception of the grainy crab rangoon, which tasted vaguely as if someone had chewed it for us, then spit the concoction, blended with sand, back into the rangoon. We took most of our food with us. We stopped on the way back to return overdue library books, then headed to the apartment.
We rented three games from Movie Gallery, and took them home. They all sucked. So we took turns playing Animal Crossing and using the computer. From here, I have to thank Beth, because her blog effected the rest of the night. I noticed that she was playing the new Animal Crossing game. Weird, I thought. Seeing that we came so close to buying it, it almost felt like a sign. Of course, Beth confirmed its general awesomeness, and we were convinced. We got back in the car, drove BACK to Farmington, and bought the system and the game. The night was spent playing new Animal Crossing and watching Gilmore Girls.
The end.
I had the day off, which generally makes waking up more joyous. Jeremy mentioned he was considering taking the day off. I said nothing, because if I've learned anything in the last several years, it's that my opinion doesn't always help particular matters, particularly when "badness" is involved. I settled on saying "I'm pro- whatever...work is good, but so is a day off together." That way, I'm not saying "well, you should probably go to work," thus killing the excitement of the suggestion, while at the same time I'm mildly encouraging him to play hookey. Because Tuesday morning I could think of nothing I wanted more than for Jeremy to take a sick day and tool around town with me.
I had to unlock the store for one of the new girls, so I ran across the street at 9:00 a.m. to do so. By the time I got back, Jeremy had made the necessary call. So we took showers, and prepped for a day out. Having received his paycheck the previous day, we went to the bank so Jeremy could cash and deposit his check. We paid off our last outstanding bill from Seattle, not to mention the furniture credit, and a utility (not sure which one. we stagger them). From there we stopped at "A Touch of Class", a thrift store in Farmington. EXTREMELY disappointing. They had a wide selection of unique cologne bottles, most still full of (what we assumed was) their original cologne. Bitter, stinging, old-man scents. One of them was in a glass turkey bottle. I can't remember the others, but they were equally bizarre and seemingly inapprorpiate.
Next stop: Wal*Mart! Because for us, there's no other reason to go to Farmington. Our most recent trips have all resulted in successful DVD purchases. Tuesday was no exception. Jeremy bought the special edition of Jaws for $13, and he got me the two-disk The Parent Trap/The Parent Trap 2 set...two of the only movies my mother deemed worthy when I was seven and eight years old. We toyed with buying a Nintendo DS, the system that supports the newest version of Animal Crossing. But the enjoyment of meals eventually beat it out, as we've not done a proper grocery shop in several weeks.
We went to Wilton from there, in hopes of finding a good place to get lunch. We stopped at the New Great Wall, a small Chinese establishment. It felt a little creaky inside, but not altogether terrible. Jeremy didn't agree, and loudly told me he forgot his wallet in the car in order to get us out. We walked to The Boiler Room from there, which is supposedly a nice place, but they were closed. No lunch in the winter! So we went back to Farmington - to Fortune Fountain (I think?), the Chinese restaurant next to Wal*Mart. They had a fountain inside - go figure! The food was pretty much what we expected, with the exception of the grainy crab rangoon, which tasted vaguely as if someone had chewed it for us, then spit the concoction, blended with sand, back into the rangoon. We took most of our food with us. We stopped on the way back to return overdue library books, then headed to the apartment.
We rented three games from Movie Gallery, and took them home. They all sucked. So we took turns playing Animal Crossing and using the computer. From here, I have to thank Beth, because her blog effected the rest of the night. I noticed that she was playing the new Animal Crossing game. Weird, I thought. Seeing that we came so close to buying it, it almost felt like a sign. Of course, Beth confirmed its general awesomeness, and we were convinced. We got back in the car, drove BACK to Farmington, and bought the system and the game. The night was spent playing new Animal Crossing and watching Gilmore Girls.
The end.
01 March 2006
the curse of peter vella
It feels only fair to warn you, the reader, that this entry is pretty gross. It's graphic for the sake of posterity, and not everyone will be able to stomach the contents (I swear, this sentence is rife with puns! Why can't I be this clever when I'm trying??) of this entry.
Finally, I have the energy to write something!
We went to Portland on Saturday. The plan was to pop into Clay City to see the divine Ms. Em, then to spend the evening attacking a box of wine with Esteban* and his wife Selsun*. Attack it we did! Jeremy and I supplied the box of Peter Vella's Chardonnay (the white grenache was gone, and it was the least horrifying alternative). Esteban also had another bottle of white, easy-to-consume wine. We watched movies, chatted, visited...and twenty minutes later, I was drunk. We primarily watched a selection of $1 films that Jeremy and I found at Wal*Mart the previous evening: specifically, Concrete Cowboys, starring Tom Selleck and Jerry Reed; and The Curious Adventures of Mr. Wonderbird, an old cartoon, allegedly based on a story by Hans Christian Anderson. Neither film make an ounce of sense. And that's not the alcohol's fault. (we toyed with watching a third, Panda and the Magic Serpent, but we just couldn't do it. We did watch Stroker Ace again, though.)
I don't think I had more than six glasses (though Jeremy tells me they more closely resembled "goblets") of wine. Nevertheless, when we finally went to bed several hours later, I wasn't horizontal for long before the Vella needed to make its violent exit. I managed to get to the bathroom before accidentally throwing up all over the door. Jeremy came into help me clean it up, since I was still in the process of being physically ill. All we could find was toilet paper, so we used huge clumps to wipe up what we could find before throwing it all into the toilet.
Did that make you stop, allowing you to intuit what happened next? Because if your guess was that the next flush caused the toilet to overflow, then you would be right! So the toilet was leaking water all over the floor, all over us, all over everything. We used more toilet paper and the only two towels we could find to soak the water up (and this time, we disposed of the mess in the garbage can). Jeremy plunged the toilet a bit, and we got the water level down. But we weren't sure if we had actually unplugged the toilet or not! Meanwhile, I was still actively sick, and being disallowed to flush. Having to stick my face in the can was reason enough to be sick after a few more hacks. After awhile, I could take no more, and flushed again. Thankfully, the blockage was gone.
That was the first hour.
Any time I attempted to stand up or lie down (vertical and horizontal were not happening), I'd start yakking again. I hadn't had that much to eat that day (which is my own fault, but not the point), so somewhere around the beginning of hour two I ran out of things to throw up. I had tried drinking water, but any time I sipped I puked it right back out. A yellow substance, tasting much like aspirin, started replacing it. That was interspersed with dry heaves, which for some reason were uncontrollably loud and desperate-sounding. Jeremy, my loving man-hunk, sat with me. His attempts at physical comforting resulted in further retching. But it was nice not to be alone.
Anyway, this went on for hours. During that time, Jeremy spent some time reading Dianetics in the hallway, and eventually went to bed. Around 5:00 a.m. we went back to the living room. I sat in a chair for awhile, hoping to fall asleep upright. That went well for about twenty minutes, at which point I attepted to lie down with Jeremy. Literally two seconds after putting my head down, I started getting sick again. I ran to the bathroom for another hour of fun. This time, I sought the company of tabloids. At 6:30 I went back to the living room, and managed to fall asleep in the chair. A little after 7:00, Esteban woke us up by pretending he wasn't waking us up. Apparently he and Selsun slept like babies. They heard none of the commotion, and were, in fact, about to comment on how "apparently no one got THAT drunk last night". If only.
We got back to Jay just after noontime on Sunday. We napped and watched television.
The amazing this is, I didn't think I was that drunk. Seriously. Only after the fact was I informed that Peter Vella Chardonnay is 11% alcohol. Not 11 proof. A huge difference. Eleven proof doesn't result in almost six hours of puking. It was good wine though. It's too bad I'm never never never drinking again. Oh well. More for everyone else!
*names changed for my own personal amusement
Finally, I have the energy to write something!
We went to Portland on Saturday. The plan was to pop into Clay City to see the divine Ms. Em, then to spend the evening attacking a box of wine with Esteban* and his wife Selsun*. Attack it we did! Jeremy and I supplied the box of Peter Vella's Chardonnay (the white grenache was gone, and it was the least horrifying alternative). Esteban also had another bottle of white, easy-to-consume wine. We watched movies, chatted, visited...and twenty minutes later, I was drunk. We primarily watched a selection of $1 films that Jeremy and I found at Wal*Mart the previous evening: specifically, Concrete Cowboys, starring Tom Selleck and Jerry Reed; and The Curious Adventures of Mr. Wonderbird, an old cartoon, allegedly based on a story by Hans Christian Anderson. Neither film make an ounce of sense. And that's not the alcohol's fault. (we toyed with watching a third, Panda and the Magic Serpent, but we just couldn't do it. We did watch Stroker Ace again, though.)
I don't think I had more than six glasses (though Jeremy tells me they more closely resembled "goblets") of wine. Nevertheless, when we finally went to bed several hours later, I wasn't horizontal for long before the Vella needed to make its violent exit. I managed to get to the bathroom before accidentally throwing up all over the door. Jeremy came into help me clean it up, since I was still in the process of being physically ill. All we could find was toilet paper, so we used huge clumps to wipe up what we could find before throwing it all into the toilet.
Did that make you stop, allowing you to intuit what happened next? Because if your guess was that the next flush caused the toilet to overflow, then you would be right! So the toilet was leaking water all over the floor, all over us, all over everything. We used more toilet paper and the only two towels we could find to soak the water up (and this time, we disposed of the mess in the garbage can). Jeremy plunged the toilet a bit, and we got the water level down. But we weren't sure if we had actually unplugged the toilet or not! Meanwhile, I was still actively sick, and being disallowed to flush. Having to stick my face in the can was reason enough to be sick after a few more hacks. After awhile, I could take no more, and flushed again. Thankfully, the blockage was gone.
That was the first hour.
Any time I attempted to stand up or lie down (vertical and horizontal were not happening), I'd start yakking again. I hadn't had that much to eat that day (which is my own fault, but not the point), so somewhere around the beginning of hour two I ran out of things to throw up. I had tried drinking water, but any time I sipped I puked it right back out. A yellow substance, tasting much like aspirin, started replacing it. That was interspersed with dry heaves, which for some reason were uncontrollably loud and desperate-sounding. Jeremy, my loving man-hunk, sat with me. His attempts at physical comforting resulted in further retching. But it was nice not to be alone.
Anyway, this went on for hours. During that time, Jeremy spent some time reading Dianetics in the hallway, and eventually went to bed. Around 5:00 a.m. we went back to the living room. I sat in a chair for awhile, hoping to fall asleep upright. That went well for about twenty minutes, at which point I attepted to lie down with Jeremy. Literally two seconds after putting my head down, I started getting sick again. I ran to the bathroom for another hour of fun. This time, I sought the company of tabloids. At 6:30 I went back to the living room, and managed to fall asleep in the chair. A little after 7:00, Esteban woke us up by pretending he wasn't waking us up. Apparently he and Selsun slept like babies. They heard none of the commotion, and were, in fact, about to comment on how "apparently no one got THAT drunk last night". If only.
We got back to Jay just after noontime on Sunday. We napped and watched television.
The amazing this is, I didn't think I was that drunk. Seriously. Only after the fact was I informed that Peter Vella Chardonnay is 11% alcohol. Not 11 proof. A huge difference. Eleven proof doesn't result in almost six hours of puking. It was good wine though. It's too bad I'm never never never drinking again. Oh well. More for everyone else!
*names changed for my own personal amusement
20 February 2006
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!
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!
15 February 2006
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.
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.
13 February 2006
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.
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.
09 February 2006
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.
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.
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