shhh... it's a secret

Tuesday, August 31, 2010

RST: Short and sweet and all sorts of rambly.

It's Tuesday, which means, time again for another Random Shit Tuesday


My almost-forgotten randomness...

Whoa! Did you all know today was Tuesday? Totally slipped my mind. What with the two new jobs and what not. Oh, and did I mention I have another interview Thursday morning to fill the vast empty hole that is my Wednesdays? I do. Which means I could be a true-blue, 100% elementary art teacher. Keep those fingers crossed and those good vibes coming!

***

As I'm adjusting to my new life, please forgive the inevitable decline in posting that is bound to occur over the next month or so.

***

Are TB tests supposed to make your hand numb? Hmmm... and people wonder why I fear needles.

***

The highlights of my new job(s) thus far...
  • free loot (shirts, magnets, candy, supplies, tote bags...)
  • I won a plant as a door prize on "new teacher day" (my year goal for the school year is to keep it alive)
  • my very own, new laptop
  • I lost a classroom, but then I was told they're building me a classroom (well, for me and the other part-time art teacher, but whatev')
  • free breakfast and lunch for two days (catered, no less)
I'm sure there's more stuff, but I'm tired. Getting up at 5:00am blows, yo.
      
***

Is anyone else's spacing on their posts getting fucked up like mine, or should I just chalk this one up to "user error?"

***

Is "else's" not really a legitimate word, or is my spellchecker just joshing with me?

**

Hooray for my rambling randomness. Please forgive my lameness. It's only temporary.

Monday, August 30, 2010

Please Don't Puke in the Porta-Potty (aka Previously on OBG...)

           
Although inspired in part by a true incident, 
the following story is fictional 
and does not depict any actual person or event...
except that it does.

When we last left OBG...

[Editor's Note: Uh... I have a job now, biotches, I don't have time to recap my life for you. If you must have a recap, I recommend you scroll on down to the archive on the right. Oh, and please forgive the new format. This wasn't originally intended to be a "Previously On" post, so just go with it.]
      
We now join OBG on a "camping trip" this past weekend which turned out to be more of a hippie/redneck music festival in a field than it was a camping trip. 

It's Friday night, around 8:00pm, the car is all packed up and ready to go for the "camping trip." OBG is in the driver's seat and the G-Man is in the passenger's (they're taking OBG's car because it's bigger). They are about to depart for Gore, VA but must first stop for ice, beer, crackers and gas. The GPS gets plugged in and programmed for their destination...

OBG: Whoa. It's going to take us nearly two hours to get there?
The G-Man: Oh. I guess so. Let me check. (opens up smart phone and does some fancy thumb work.) Yeah. Guess it will.
OBG: We're not going to get there until at least 10:30.
The G-Man: Huh. (thinks) I'm hungry.
OBG: Me too.
The G-Man: Huh. (thinks)
[crickets]
[sun begins setting]
[more crickets] 
The G-Man: Want to go grab some pizza and beer and just leave tomorrow morning?
OBG: Sure.

We now join OBG and the G-Man on Saturday, chilaxing with a beer after having arrived at the "camp site" (i.e. the field) and successfully set up camp with no unexpected surprises (E.g. missing stakes, bloody toes, raised voices).

OBG: Now what?
The G-Man: Well... now we go and introduce ourselves to our neighbors. [Ed's note: Neighbors being the six other "camps" set up within spitting distance of our "camp".]
OBG: Say what now?
The G-Man: You know, go say hi, introduce ourselves...
OBG: Fuck that. Camping is supposed to be about privacy and getting away from other people.
The G-Man: C'mon. It'll be fun.
OBG: I think your definition of fun, and camping, is completely different than mine. Fuck. I need to finish this beer first.

The G-Man has now led OBG to a van/camp behind their own "camp" and up the hill a bit. They proceed to introduce themselves to the Modern Day Hippies (MDH) who belong to the van/camp. [Ed's Note: MDH being people who believe in natural, at-home births but also cite Michael Jackson as a parental role model. Kid you not. MDH being people who chose to become vegetarians because they don't want to pollute their bodies with nasty chemicals but then proceed to down three cans of Mt. Dew. Excuse me. *Diet* Mt. Dew. MDH being people who are camping in a field, allow their 7-month old to crawl on the ground, share *tobacco* pipes with strangers, but also carry around a gallon jug of hand sanitizer that they insist everyone visiting their camp use every ten minutes so as not to expose their baby to nasty germs. Just thought we should all be on the same page with my definition of MDH].

MDH Male: My name is Sonny [Ed's Note: Sunny?].
MDH Female: Hi, I'm Melody.
Sonny: And you are?
OBG: Hi, I'm April [Ed's Note: Like you all didn't already know that].
Sonny: April, huh? Is that your first name or your middle name?
OBG: Uh... my first name.
Sonny: Oh. What is your middle name?
OBG: Uh, M------ [Ed's Note: Like I'm going to tell you that, dear readers. Ha. Now I sound like Stephen King].
Sonny: M------... April M------. Is that your real name? Like, were you born with it?
OBG: Uh... yeah.
Sonny: Oh.
In-head OBG: What the fuck?

A few minutes later...

Melody: Giving birth at home was the most transcendental experience ever. Like, it takes you to a whole other plane of consciousness.
Sonny: And there were no hospital bills, and we didn't have to sign anything.
Melody: We had to sign that contract with the mid-wife.
Sonny: Right, but we didn't have to pay anything.
Melody: It did cost $3500. But we didn't take any birthing classes.
Sonny: Except for that one we started at the hospital.
Melody: Right, but we quit after they asked, "Who knows what end of the bottle goes in the baby's mouth?"
Sonny: Right, which is a huge insult to anyone with internet.
In-head OBG: What the fuck?

Later...

Sonny: I don't ruin my mind with TV.
Melody: Sometimes you do.
Sonny: Right, well,  I am excited the new NFL season is beginning. I love the Redskins.
Melody: And it's unbelievable how different the game is when watching it on our 37" flat-screen TV.
In-head OBG: Say what now?

Three beers, one tasty burger, one nap and one trip to the porta-potties later...
    
The G-Man: Want another beer?
OBG: Has a clean bathroom with toilet paper magically appeared in the field?
The G-Man: No.
OBG: No thanks then.

Later in the evening...

The G-Man: Want a beer?
OBG: Has a clean bathroom with toilet paper magically appeared in the field?
The G-Man: No.
OBG: No thanks then.

[Ed's Note: You get the idea, right? I don't have to further illustrate for you that no liquids passed my lips at all for the rest of the night after I took that last trip to the porta-potties at 7pm, right? Good.]

Later in the evening, around eleven pm, OBG and the G-Man have wandered down to the stage to hear the headlining, Grateful Dead cover band. OBG, dead sober, is trying to stay warm while avoiding being tackled by the "dancing", not-so sober people around her.
        
In-head OBG: What the fuck am I doing here? I don't even really *like* the Dead. Would it be rude if I went to bed now?

Later in the evening, around one am, after another tasty burger had been consumed and the last band was still performing...
     
OBG: Now what?
The G-Man: I'm kind of tired.
OBG: Me too! I mean, yeah, I'm kind of sleepy.
The G-Man: I'm thinking of going to bed.
OBG: Me too, but I didn't want to be rude. Or sound old.

And it was at this moment when OBG and the G-Man realized that their days of attending musical field festivals were probably numbered. Well, it was actually the following morning when they were sipping their coffee around the propane grill and reminiscing about the previous night's events, like when the high school kids stopped by at one point and were making obscure and unknown drug references that OBG and the G-Man just sort of nodded along with, or like when a beer pong tournament was occurring next door and OBG and the G-Man couldn't be bothered to go over and play, or like when OBG really, really wanted S'Mores but had no desire to intrude on someone else's fire pit [Ed's note: Our "camp" didn't have a fire pit. Our "camp" being the only flat spot under a tree left in the field when we arrived], or like when OBG stopped consuming liquids for twelve hours so she wouldn't have to use the nasty porta-potties or pee in the woods at night [Ed's note: I did use the porta-potties the next morning and was disgusted to see that someone had puked in them. I mean, hello! We were IN A FIELD that was surrounded by woods. What douche-bag pukes in a porta-John instead of IN THE FIELD?]

*Sigh*

Did I mention I have a job now? And furthermore, does anyone know what a "Molly" is?

Thursday, August 26, 2010

Pssh... like I ever had any doubts.

UPDATED
   
So.... if you follow me on the Twit (and I don't blame you if you don't. I decided long ago that I'm not nearly cool enough nor a dedicated enough tweeter [twatter?] to sit at that lunch table), or if you're related to me, or if you live in the same house as me, then you've already heard the good news. For the rest of you, here it is...
    
I GOTS MYSELF A REAL JOB!!!
    
For reals, y'all.
   
For all you lolcat lovers out there. (Source)
But seriously, I landed the job that I interviewed for on Tuesday, despite my mixed feelings about it. And if I got the job because they were super impressed by me, or because they were working on a major time crunch, or because I was the only one interviewed (which I wasn't, but thanks for that suggestion, Twin) is irrelevant because, well, I got the job. It's only a .40 position, which I'm no stranger to, but I couldn't have been any more excited when I got the call, as was evident by my super-happy-crazy-cheering-and-grunting victory dance. Thankfully no one was present to witness that debacle.
   
I'll be working on Tuesdays and Thursdays as an Elementary Art Teacher. And I get my own classroom too, which, if you know anything about teaching art, especially teaching art part-time, is a rare treat indeed.
    
Now you're probably wondering to yourselves, "Well, that's great and all, OBG, but what are you going to do on Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays?" I'm glad you asked. Not one hour after I accepted the position, I was called by another school who is looking for a .40 Elementary Art teacher, oh, and can I come in tomorrow and interview? (as in today. In fact, since the interview is at 9:00am EST, I'm probably at it as you're reading this. Or maybe I already had it, in which case, you can probably scroll down and find an update.)
    
Now you're probably wondering, "But OBG, won't these two jobs conflict with each other?" Au contraire, my dear friends. As it turns out, the second school is looking for a teacher for Mondays and Fridays. Could it be anymore perfect?
    
Now if only that other elementary school that I contacted yesterday is looking for their .20 Elementary Art teacher to work Wednesdays, well, then I might be able to pull off this full-time teaching thing after all.
      
UPDATE: So... I had my interview at 9:00am, and it lasted nearly an hour, which indicated two things to me... 1. it went really well, and 2. they weren't interviewing anyone else. And, of course, I rocked that interview! 
     
And then, on my way home after wards (about 15-20 minutes after I left the interview), the assistant principal I interviewed with called and offered me the position.
     
Yay!
    
So I am now a .80 Elementary Art Teacher, working Mondays and Fridays in one school and Tuesdays and Thursdays in another school. And one of the coolest things? They're minutes away from each other. As in a few roads away. Oh, and they're also minutes away from the G-Man's new job as well. 
     
And did I mention that I get benefits? Yeah, I do. But you know, whatever, no biggie.
      
And you know what else? I kind of like the idea of having Wednesdays off. 
     
Gotta go now because I start work TOMORROW and there's tons of stuff I need to take care of. 

Wednesday, August 25, 2010

I've-Got-Some-Words-For-You, Wednesday

            
(Source)
When will companies realize that I don't want some dude in India listening to my ranting and raving when I have a billing issue? English isn't his native language, therefore he won't be able to fully understand the severity of my problem. Will he really be able to grasp the nuance of using the word "fabulous" when thoroughly dissatisfied? No, he'll just keep repeating the same phrase over and over to me until I crack and start yelling, sweating and crying all at once. And then he'll put me on hold for two minutes and after two minutes he'll repeat what he had previously said and then put me on hold for two minutes again and then finally, 20 minutes later, he'll "talk to his supervisor". And then I'll feel super guilty after he fixes my issue, so I'll apologize and thank him for his help that wasn't so helpful. Like I need more guilt in my life.
        
I live in the same house as you. I told you, to your face, that yeah, I'll go camping this weekend. We went to the store and purchased some camping equipment together. We discussed driving arrangements and who may or may not be accompanying us on said camping trip. After all this, why the fuck should I be expected to RSVP to your Facebook camping "event"? I already told you I'm going, why does the rest of the world need to know my weekend plans? They don't. So... back the fuck off!

I don't even know what CrossLoop is.
Is it really absolutely necessary that I create an account for everything I want to do on the internet? Why? Why, why, why? Want to find a job? Create an account first. Want to research car insurance? Create an account first. Want to listen to free music? Create an account first. Free movies and TV? Create an account first. Want to view the pizza menu online? You have an account, right? And why must every single freakin' account be linked to an email address? I find I'm creating new email addresses all the time because the old ones are getting so bogged down by junk mail. I have email accounts, banking accounts, blogging accounts, insurance accounts, teaching accounts, job searching accounts, shopping accounts, post office accounts, DMV accounts, credit card accounts, music accounts, entertainment accounts... WHEN DOES IT END, I ASK YOU, WHEN?!?

(Source)
Is it really necessary for the workers at those damn kiosks in the middle of the mall to approach me every time I walk by? I just walked by here, foreign blonde chickie, and I still don't want to try the hair product you're swindling. Just let me get on with my window shopping in peace, please. And the same goes for all you charity drives. Putting cute little kids at a table outside of a store and making them ask passerbys (aka me) if they (me) want to buy their product, for charity, isn't going to make them (me) want to buy it. For one, I never have cash on me. And for another, ugh, let me be. The same applies to cashiers who try to get me to buy their ribbons/balloons/smile faces for only $1 when I'm checking out. Yes, sometimes I'll feel generous and purchase your lousy piece of paper, for charity, but I'm not going to do every single time I'm in the store. I DON'T NEED ANYMORE GUILT IN MY LIFE!

Thanks for letting me get all of that off of my chest. No, I'm not PMS-ing, why do you ask? And in regards to that job interview that I had? Eh. We'll see, but I'm not really feeling it. As always, I nailed the interview, but that doesn't mean I got the job. Sometimes that's just the way the cookie crumbles.

Tuesday, August 24, 2010

RST: Fiber, Michaels, speeding, Quiznos, big news, headbands, TV, and an award.

spacer

It's Tuesday, which means, time again for another Random Shit Tuesday


My long-overdue randomness...

Forget everything you've ever heard about fiber. It's evil. Don't eat it. That is all.

***

Whenever I get thoroughly bummed out, I find myself wandering the aisles of a Michaels, and then I'm instantly happy again. Of course, it only lasts until I walk out of the store, but at least for that brief moment in time everything is right with the world.

***

I thought there was an unspoken rule of the road that it's mandatory to do at least 5mph over the speed limit? I'm thinking the people of Virginia didn't get this make-believe memo.

(Source)
Which reminds me, I've been meaning to write about my rules of the road for quite some time now. One of these days I'll get on that. I know I have the notes and diagrams for that post around here somewhere...

***

Do the new Quiznos commercials creep anyone else out? They scare the bejeezus out of me. I mean, who was the "genius" that came up with this marketing disaster? Or am I the only one who goes running for the mute button whenever it comes on?


And just a little FYI, the new "bullet" has next-to-no meat on it, which is why they can justify charging $3 for it. Wait. No they can't. Basically you're spending $3 on bread. 

***

You might want to sit down for this next one.

Are you sitting down?

Okay, now take a deep breath...

... this is gonna be big...

I HAVE A JOB INTERVIEW TODAY!

As in a real job interview, not like that fake one I had a couple of weeks ago. This is an interview for an actual available position. As an elementary art teacher no less.

I KNOW!

I can't hardly believe it myself. So everyone send me good vibes around 3:00pm EST.
     
***

I think headbands are super cute, and I have a couple, but they give me headaches, so I can't really wear them for long. Probably has to do with my big noggin. 

***

I've been slacking on watching Project Runway this season, and I gotta be honest with you, it doesn't break my heart. *gasp* I can't believe I would ever confess to that, but it's true. In fact, now that LOST is over, I'm thinking of bailing on TV altogether. *GASP* I mean, really, what's left that's worth watching?

Pacey who? I think you mean Peter.
Oh! Wait! Fringe is still on, right? (please tell me it is) Oh, and I forgot about Modern Family and Cougar Town. Those are still on too, right? Okay, so maybe I won't be so hasty to bail on TV yet.

***

A while back (last week?) the lovely Sara Louise from Sara In Le Petit Village honored me with a blogger award. Sara lives in, you guessed it, France, where she moved to after falling head over heels for a Frenchman. Lucky duck. Who hasn't imagined falling for a dashing foreigner and then being whisked away to a far away land where they speak a language you don't quite understand and have customs that you also don't quite understand?

The Proof
So, I think it goes without saying that I'm honored to receive the You're Going Places Award from such a world traveler. I can only assume that these Places referred to aren't necessarily physical places but also metaphysical in which case, she's right, I am going places, places no one wants to follow me to.

Anyawkwardness, I didn't see any "rules" associated with this award, which is a relief, and I think I can just pass it on to whoever the hoo-ha I want, so... therefore... without... any... further... ado... (sorry, I'm a little giddy this morning and I can't explain why. Well, maybe it has something to do with my INTERVIEW THIS AFTERNOON, but I can't be sure) moving on... 

I present the You're Going Places Award to...

Jules at Night Notes on Napkins

and...

A Vapid Blonde

and because I have issues with even numbers...

Cathy at Antsy Pants

***

It's occurred to me recently that I am WAAAAAAAYYYYY behind on my blog reading, but I suspect this is occurring all across the board right now. I'm going to try to catch-up here soon. Maybe once I get a job I'll feel less guilty about spending my time in the blogging world.

***

And that's about it. Actually, that was quite a lot, huh? You all remember your homework, right? 3:00pm EST. Good vibes. My way. Thanks.

***

Monday, August 23, 2010

200 posts later...


... and I'm still alive and kicking. Sort of. Can we all just pretend this isn't my 200th post? Not that I'm any good at celebrating these sorts of things, in blogger world or the real world. If it weren't for Twin, I would never remember anyone's birthday, and forget about anniversaries. You're on your own with those.

And while I'm on the topic of birthdays, one of the cutest little boys in the whole entire world just had his first birthday. Yup, that's right, little Benny Bugger just turned one. Happy Birthday, Benny Bugger. Sorry I couldn't be there for the festivities.
He likes cake.
And check out the sweet cakes my sister made for Benny Bugger. (One was for his real birthday, and the other was for his birthday party with friends and family. My sister is one of those moms who wouldn't let her sons have cake until their first birthday. Don't judge her. I think it's cute.)
The concept was good, but the execution could have been cleaner.
Coolest cake ever.
I'm sure my sis would want you to know that the first cake was designed by big bro', Owen, who's 3. I think he was in charge of the sprinkles. I'm extremely impressed by the second cake, which I heard only took a mere 4 hours to make. And here I thought she lacked cake making talent. Or maybe she just told me that so I would make her cakes for her. Guess who'll be making her own cakes from now on?

In other birthday news, the G-Man had his birthday this past weekend. He decided a night in Alexandria with a bunch of friends was the way to celebrate. So a bunch of us got a few hotel rooms in Alexandria on Friday night, and we all got gloriously wasted. Or maybe that was just me. But check out the sweet room. I love the picture above the bed. Much better than your typical hotel art.

I totally dive-bombed this bed. Multiple times.
And then I had to stop because I hurt myself.
In related news. You know how I'm super coordinated and totally classy? Of course you do. Well, remember how I had that gnarly toe injury not that long ago? Well guess what? I did it again. Yup. I stubbed my toe up pretty good Friday night, and if it weren't for that previous toe injury, which happened in the safety of a bedroom, while I was sober, I would totally blame the alcohol and the uneven sidewalks of Alexandria. But, also seeing as I had tripped on the uneven bricks earlier in the evening, before any alcohol was consumed, well, I don't think I can blame the alcohol. But maybe I can blame the sidewalks. Or maybe not. I am, after all, the kind of person who takes one thing off of a shelf in the closet and then has eight other things come crashing down on my head. Or the kind of person whose ten lb. purse falls on my head while using the restroom in Target (don't ask).

And since I am in a sharing kind of mood, I have a picture to share with you.

WARNING: PLEASE AVERT YOUR EYES IF YOU HAVE A WEAK STOMACH AND/OR CAN'T TOLERATE PICTURES THAT SHOW:
a) TOES
b) GENERAL GROSSNESS
c) TOENAILS IN DESPERATE NEED OF A NEW PAINT JOB or
d) ALL OF THE ABOVE
YOU'VE BEEN WARNED. SERIOUSLY, LOOK AWAY. DON'T GO ANY FURTHER. I WILL NOT BE RESPONSIBLE FOR LOST LUNCHES.

In all its glory, I present to you, my new toe injury...
 
You can click on it to enlarge it. You know you want to.

You may be thinking to yourself, "Wait, haven't we seen this toe injury before?" Well, no, you haven't, but you have seen this toe injured before. And it is quite similar to the last injury, but it is, in fact, a brand new injury. And because I'm in such a good mood today and don't want to make you work too hard (it is Monday, after all), here's a pic of the last toe injury for comparison.


And because you're not grossed out enough (Wait, is there anyone left reading this?), I must add that the new toe injury had two skin flaps that needed to be removed as well as some gravel, some mashed up toenail, and a fuzzy. And there was blood. Lots of blood.

And my birthday gift to the G-Man? He got to clean my toe up on Friday. And then I let him pick gravel out of it with tweezers. Hey, after last year's present, a lousy flying lesson, in a real plane and everything, I knew I had to step it up this year (hee hee. Get it? Step it up? Well, I thought it was funny). And really, what man wouldn't prefer bloody appendages over a flying lesson?

And for the few of you who made it through this travesty I call my 200th post... thanks. Here's hoping I have enough shit to talk about for another 200 posts.

Thursday, August 19, 2010

"To sleep: perchance to dream"

I lay in bed, and I sensed it creeping down the hallway towards my bedroom door. I peaked my head out over the edge of the covers and tentatively peered at the bedroom door. It was slightly ajar. The dog began whining in her sleep, and my heart began to flutter in my chest. I felt it getting closer. The door silently creeped open. The fear inside me escalated as the tall shadowy figure appeared. To describe it as tall would be a lie. It was looming, and it filled the doorway with a darkness that turned my insides to ice. I buried myself deeper within the covers and wished the shape away. As the shadow figure hungrily absorbed the ambient light, it rippled and pulsed, stealthy taking on a human form. The dog whimpered and then awoke. She issued a tentative and nervous bark. The shadow dissipated, the light returned to the hallway, and I breathed a breath I didn't know I had been holding.
I'm not sleeping well lately. It seems insomnia has come to visit once again. On the one hand, my creative spirit tends to emerge during these times in my life. On the other, so do my headaches. I spend my days trying to be rid of the pain and my nights trying to be rid of my wakefulness. When I do sleep it's never for long, and it certainly isn't restful. I'm haunted by dreams that border on nightmares, and I suffer hallucinations the likes of the one above. As I'm riding out this sleepless wave, rest assured that while I may not be present here, I am silently creating in my real world. I hope to be back soon.

(And while I'm away, check out some lovely Etsy finds today at The Bittersweet BlondeIt's Etsy time!)
(by elista via Etsy)

Tuesday, August 17, 2010

RST: A Picture Show

                   

It's Tuesday, which means, time again for another Random Shit Tuesday


My wordless randomness...
(all photos are by yours truly, except for #7 which was taken by an unknown. #6 is a photo of a photo, so technically speaking, I took it.)


And for those of you who require explanations...
  1. The reason (well, one of them anyways) why I need to get my butt to a gym, STAT!
  2. A (belated) graduation present from my lovely and talented little sis. SMWartworks
  3. An apron that my mom made (that I thieved from her). Love the lemons!
  4. Loki & Mrs. Lovett still alive and kickin'! (and currently residing in the bathroom)
  5. A brain storming sketch for The Sketchbook Project.
  6. Further proof that I've always been a nerd. (Senior year of high school)
  7. Remember when I woke up in a little girl's bedroom? This is a pic from the night before.
  8. The chandelier in the foyer of the house I'm currently residing in.
(If you've never messed around with Polaroin before, go check it out. It's tons of fun. Obviously.)

Monday, August 16, 2010

A Quick Note

     
(Source)
My creative bone is at work right now. You can find me today at The Bittersweet Blonde where my weekend happenings inspired me to write, "Gretel wiped bitter tears, and said to Hansel, 'Now all is over with us.'" It's a quick read, so go check it out. I'll see you all back here tomorrow for Random Shit Tuesday.

Saturday, August 14, 2010

I can die a happy person.

The other day, one of my longtime dreams came true.

That's right, I visited an Anthropologie store for the first time (and I will be back, oh yes, I will). It felt like I had stepped through my laptop, into the magic of their website. I told the G-Man , as we walked through the doors,  "If I had a lot of money, I would live in their catalog." (oh yes, I made him come too, considered it payback for the gun show trip. Which back fired on me because he actually enjoyed it.)

It felt like I was coming home. Never before have I stepped into a store and felt less stressed and more relaxed. I wanted to melt into the floor and become one with the merchandise. It was surreal. All of my old favorites were there. And they were more colorful, luxurious and gorgeous than I could have ever imagined.

Laelia was there, and she was everything I envisioned she would be. Bold and bright. Comfy and puffy. One of these days she will share my bed with me. Oh yes, she will. We'll spend lazy Sunday mornings together, drink coffee together and share magical, fantasy-filled dreams together. Gone will be my nights of insomnia. Gone will be my nightmares. With Laelia by my side, wrapping me in snuggly sunshine, nothing bad could ever happen.

 Octopus and Seahorse were there, ready to liven up my bland, everyday tap water. More colorful and vibrant in person, they whispered underwater secrets to me and asked me to imagine our lives together, swinging on a hammock in the summer sun while sipping lemonade and reading care-free, guilty pleasure, summertime novels.
Astrid was there in all her red-orange glory. She spoke of afternoon tea and cookies. She invited me to pull out my sketchbook, get comfy and sketch the day away. She showed me a world of cozy throw blankets and glasses of wine enjoyed by the light of the fireplace.


And of course, Zinnia, Entomology and Spinning Globe were there. They had my wheels spinning, imagining reclaimed, refinished furniture and brightly lit living spaces. We spoke of sandpaper and vintage paper drawer liners.

And don't even get me started on the clothing. How 'bout you? Have you ever met your wish list in person before?

Friday, August 13, 2010

Writing this post was a big waste of time. So would be reading it.

   
There's no denying it, my laptop's on its last legs. Which I mean quite literally as 3 out of 4 of those little rubber stumps on the bottom of my laptop have melted off. And I mean that literally too. My laptop gets so hot that the glue holding those babies on melted and the rubber stumps keep falling off. I've thought about glue gunning them back on, but never got around to it.

At any rate, my computer is slower than death right now (what does that even mean? How slow is death?) and so everything I try to do on it takes a hundred times longer. For example, right now I'm waiting for an email to send. 

And for your entertainment, here's a list of things I've done while waiting:


Things I Do While Waiting for Shit to Happen (aka Pages to Load)

1. Searched for a '1' that I could copy and paste into this post so I could have a number 1 on my list, thinking it might confuse you all if I started out with '2'.

2. Wrote this post.

3. Ate breakfast.

4. Sat on the couch and squirted things around the room with a water gun to see what kind of reach it had.

5. Spoke to Manjit, a service rep with my credit card company, so I could activate my new card that should have been activated three months ago when my old one expired (shows you how much I use my credit card, right? Which is a good thing, by the way, because it means I never use it. Of course, the fact that I just activated it indicates that I have a suspicion I might have to use it in the near future.)

6. Looked up Indian names for #5 because I thought using "Punjab", the only Indian name that came to mind, would make me sound racist.

7. Checked to see if, after 20 minutes, my email has sent yet/reset itself/acknowledged that I canceled the action/moved on from the screen it's been on for the past 20 minutes. (It hasn't)

8. Contemplated trashing this post because it seems boring (but not wanting to be a quitter, I'm pushing through).

9. Continued to get pissed off because of the "Unresponsive Scripts" messages that pop up on my computer EVERY 5 MINUTES. (Seriously, does anyone know how to resolve this issue?)

Ten. Made this illustration to demonstrate how frustrated I am (click on the pic for a more detailed view). 

Eleven. Checked my email tab again and realized that it must have froze entirely.

Twelve. Wondered if my sis ever received the email I was trying to send or if I would have to attempt to recreate it.

Thirteen. Cursed out Yahoo.

Fourteen. Cursed out the person who set my computer up to automatically update, thus forcing me to deal with this pop-up every fifteen minutes at the most inconvenient times.

Fourteen and a half. (Because I thought of something else after finishing my list but didn't want to renumber it) Tried to figure out how to stop this pop-up from appearing EVERY FIFTEEN MINUTES, but failed.

Fifteen. Made this illustration to show you how much I hate inconvenient pop-ups. I admit, I could have put some more effort into it and done a better job, but I've got a To Do list to complete today. (click to enlarge)

Sixteen. Finally got around to filling out a change of address form with the Post Office and then wondered what happens with the mail that's already sitting in my PO box back in NY.

Seventeen. Realized I haven't had coffee yet.

Eighteen. Came up with really lame items for this list in the hopes that I would hit 20 so I can stop spelling out the numbers with ones in them.

Nineteen. Sneezed.

20. Gave up on the email and decided to call my sister instead.


Sorry for wasting your time like that. I can't believe I just wasted my time like that. Now off to go do some job searching, which in reality means I'm gonna grab a cup of coffee, use the bathroom and maybe take a shower. And then I'll think about job searching again. After, of course, I scold myself for not going to the gym (again) but then contemplate the internal struggle I have with going to the gym when that time should really be spent job searching. And then I'll probably have lunch. And then I'll probably do some job searching. 

Hope your Friday is more productive than mine. Hope you have a fabulously fun weekend planned. See you all back here on Monday[ex.pt.]

Wednesday, August 11, 2010

Is there anything else I can get for you?


How long does one continue job searching in their field before throwing in the towel and giving up? I've read numerous articles lately that have been discussing the fact that while many, many people remain unemployed, some employers are having a hard time filling open positions. This was explained by the theory that people are having a difficult time reconciling the significant difference between the job they once had and the jobs that are available. No one wants to go from working at a cushy office job to driving trucks all day.

I've been wrestling with this issue too. As my job searching continues to beat me down, I've begun to consider possible alternatives to teaching. Not long-term, mind you, just temporary so I can pay the bills. I feel as if I've gotten to the point where I might have to fall-back on my old stand-by, waiting tables. When I tell this to the people in my life, I get different reactions from them. (Image Source)
The G-Man, who waited tables a time or two in college, has a BA in psychology and was ushered into a completely unrelated field of work a month after graduating and is now on the cusp of earning six figures, thinks waiting tables is a viable option for me.
SMos, who waited tables for many years in NYC, just completed the same Masters program as me, and has been working as an art teacher for almost six years in a public school in Brooklyn, thinks waiting tables is one option, but agrees that it would suck, but also points out how great the pay could be, but then laments about how shitty it would be to have to wait tables again, and then suggests other options for me and frequently emails and texts me with job possibilities she stumbles across (I love her).
Thing Two, who I have no knowledge of any of his experience waiting tables, has a Bachelors degree and a Masters, has shelled out tens of thousands of dollars to become a lawyer, and is now pushing papers for some government agency in DC, thinks that my talk of being a waitress reflects a defeatist's attitude.
Twin, who waited tables for a while in The Middle of Nowhere, Texas (while pregnant, mind you), has a Bachelors degree and a Masters in teaching, and is now working as a stay-at-home mom to her two beautiful sons because she can't find a job teaching English, thinks... well, now that I think about it, I don't recall what her thoughts on the subject were.
As you can imagine, I'm torn. I don't want to settle for a job, and I understand that many big wigs in the know cite this exact attitude as the reason so many people remain unemployed. I have explored options outside of teaching that don't include waiting tables, but have thus far come up with a big fat goose egg. I know that, in theory, I can continue job searching while waiting tables, but if you've ever waited tables full-time before, you know that the level of exhaustion I would experience, both mental and physical, would drain me of all my energy and leave very little left for job hunting. (Image Source)

While bouncing back and forth with this, I've compiled two lists outlining the pros and cons of me returning to waiting tables.

Why I Wouldn't Mind Waiting Tables Again
  1. The pay can be good.
  2. It's immediate money.
  3. I like interacting with people.
  4. It was one of my dream jobs when I was seven.
  5. I like being super busy.
  6. It's good for the thighs. And the butt.
  7. It would get me out of the house.
  8. I'm good at it.

Why I Would Hate Waiting Tables Again
  1. It's exhausting.
  2. People can be rude and demanding.
  3. You're often not treated like a real person.
  4. Customers judge you.
  5. The hours suck. And you have to work evenings and weekends. Or else they fire you.
  6. I hate not having a set schedule.
  7. I have a Masters degree.
  8. I'm concerned I wouldn't even get hired, and I'm not sure I can stand any more rejection.
  9. I have severe pain in my left foot that I've been ignoring for about two or three years now ever since I fell down the stairs that one time but refused to go to the hospital because I didn't have health insurance.
  10. I'm klutzy.
  11. I don't like being bossed around.
  12. I'd have to wear Happy Face all the time.
  13. I'd smell like food all the time.
  14. The smell of food would start making me gag.
  15. My face would break out from all the grease.
Of course, I could always fall back on my other fall-back, substituting. The pay wouldn't be immediate and I wouldn't be guaranteed work, but at least it would always be M-F daytime work. And it would allow me to get my foot in the door of area schools. And even though subbing sucks on a level so unimaginable those of you who have never done it couldn't even begin to imagine, it would keep my teaching skills all shiny and pretty. 

Of course, then there's the bills this month. *Sigh* Anyone want to pay my car payment for me?

    Tuesday, August 10, 2010

    RST: Passive aggressive, the G-Man finds a job, an email, serial killers, breaking up, and new projects.

        

    It's Tuesday, which means, time again for another Random Shit Tuesday



    My randomness (which I'll keep short and sweet since I've got shit to do today*)...


    When someone leaves a note on the dishwasher that says, "Dishes are clean." does this mean they want you to unload the dishwasher or is this a case of Captain Obvious stating, well, the obvious? When passive aggressive notes are left like this, I'm inclined to allow my inner twelve year old to react by not unloading the dishwasher. Had the note not been left, I would have happily unloaded the dishwasher when I noticed that the dishes in it were clean.

    Notes like this don't work on me. Maybe Upstairs Mike should have called my mom first, and she could have clued him in. My mom is the queen of passive aggressiveness. She used to leave notes for my sisters and I every morning before heading to work that usually started out something like this, "If you get bored today" or "If you're looking for something to do". She would then list stuff like this, "the dishwasher needs to emptied" or "the towels in the washer need to be hung out." And when we tried explaining to her that these things didn't get done because we had plenty to do that day and didn't get bored, well, she wasn't very pleased. (Ironically, if she hadn't left the notes, my sisters and I probably would have done those things on our own when we noticed they needed to be done.)

    Seriously though, if you want me to do something that I normally wouldn't do on my own, just ask. Otherwise, just assume that I'm an adult who is capable of unloading the dishwasher on my own. (I've been doing this chore since I moved in. Does Upstairs Mike think the dishwasher fairies have been doing it?) And a "please" couldn't hurt either.

    ***

    Speaking of sarcastic passive aggressiveness... For those of you who have been as on-the-edge-of-your-seats as I have, you'll be happy, and relieved, to hear that the G-Man has finally gotten a new job, the poor bastard. Weeks of job searching and interviews have finally paid off for him. He starts his fancy new job in two weeks at a company where he will get to work with [important government agency] agents and probably have access to all sorts of hush-hush intel. Good for him. He also gets fabulous benefits including, but not limited to, fully paid health insurance, four weeks paid time off and training/education courses paid for. Oh, and his pay increase? Twice what I brought home last year (and if you've been paying attention at all, you would know that that wasn't a heck of a lot, but that's not the point). Yeah, if you didn't hate him before...**

    ***

    Remember that job interview I had with a school system that didn't have any job openings? I told you about that, right? Yes, I just checked, I did, but you were probably too distracted by the wasp-in-butt story and forgot. Anyway, I was contacted by a principal at one of the elementary schools to see if I would be interested in coming in for an interview. Yeah, I know! I was excited too... at first. Then I read further and discovered that the job would have me working one day a week, and then when I looked into where the school was in relation to where I'll probably be moving to in a month or so, I realized that it would require an almost hour long commute, if not longer. Maybe if it were a full-time position with benefits... but it's not. Therefore, I politely declined. *Sigh*

    ***

    Since I've moved here (I've been here for a little over a month now) I've heard about two serial killers in the area. Kind of makes my paranoia over the mystery footprints in the driveway seem not so over-the-top now. I didn't have to worry about serial killers in New York (that I know of). Just saying.

    ***

    I think I'm about to go through a breakup. Yup. That's right. I think it's just about time to break up with my laptop. While I love it for getting me through the grad school crunch, I can't help but kind of hate it right now. It's falling apart. The charger doesn't charge the battery. Keys are missing. It gives me third degree burns whenever I use it for longer than five minutes at a time. I have to set up an extra fan to keep it from overheating. And it's slow. We're talking dial-up slow. Sometimes I will select a program to open, walkaway, go eat breakfast, shower and brush my teeth and then return to find the program in the last steps of loading.
    This is highly aggravating for me as I rely on my laptop to get me through the day. Plus, I have a ton of super awesome ideas to blog about but because of the snail-pace of my computer, I'm unable to (mainly because I lack the patience necessary to wait the twenty minutes it takes for shit to load). If only I had a newer, faster, better laptop...

    ***

    I'm currently working on a few projects that I'm super excited about. 
    • I'm sprucing up my teacher blog, Art Teachers Hate Glitter, which involves a new name and a new look (I'm slowly getting there). 
    • I'm also working on The Sketchbook Project. Or at least I'm thinking about working on it. There are ideas brewing. It still counts! 
    • I don't want to get you too excited about the third project, lest you become unbearably jealous of me, but it may or may not rhyme with "Rob perching."
    Okay, so calling them "projects" is a bit of a stretch, but it sounds more fun and mysterious, doesn't it?

    ***

    That wasn't nearly as short and sweet as I had anticipated. Now I'm off to do real work. 

    * Yeah, I couldn't help but laugh at that too.
    ** My intention isn't to get you to hate the G-Man. I am very excited for him and his new job, but that doesn't mean I can't still be aggravated and frustrated by his success when I'm having such a hard time.

    Monday, August 9, 2010

    Excuse me, but you seem to have herpes in your hair.

         
    Please forgive my absence. I am currently working on vamping up my *ahem* professional blog, Art Teachers Hate Glitter. Which, by the way, is a true blue fact. One of my art teacher friends described glitter as "the herpes of the art room." Don't believe me? Go buy some. Use it once. And then watch it spread all over your house. It's contagious, man. 

    Anymess, if you're so inclined, feel free to mosey on over there. Sometime in the near future I'll probably link it to this here bloggy blog. We'll see. Never know how those things are gonna go though.

    Be back shortly (because I just can't seem to stay away).

    Friday, August 6, 2010

    Alan Cumming. You probably don't know that you know him, but you do.

    My posts about celebrities have been pretty few and far between. I've lamented over the career of Christian Slater, confided in you about my infatuation with David Bowie, and admitted my fascination with all that is Helena Bonham Carter. Today I'm going to share with you my latest celebrity obsession, Alan Cumming.


    You're probably thinking this Scot looks familiar, but no, he's not the guy who played PeeWee Herman, but I imagine if PeeWee and Joey (I think the grey-haired LeBlanc has infested my brain) were to ever have a love child, Alan Cumming would be it.


    I first took note of Alan in X2. He played Nightcrawler (like you didn't already know that), one of the most vulnerable and touching X-Men characters to appear in the X-Men trilogy (in my opinion). He's also had quite a number of one-time appearances on some pretty popular TV sitcoms like 3rd Rock from the Sun (love!), Frasier, and Robot Chicken (as well as some other shows that I've never watched before).


    Alan lent his voice to God, the Devil and Bob as The Devil and will even be voicing Gutsy Smurf in the upcoming movie, The Smurfs (and I've already expressed to you how I feel about that). Another TV role that really caught my attention was Alan's portrayal as Glitch in the Tin Man (what do you mean you haven't seen it? Quick! Go put it on the top of your Netflix Instant Queue!), which I believe aired on the Sci-Fi Channel (before it "reworked" its imagine and became the more female-friendly Sy-Fy Channel. And before you jump on that "female-friendly" remark, they aired the movie Enchanted for crying out loud. Why? Why would they do something like that? The channel that brought us such greats as Dinoshark, Mega Piranha, and Ice Spiders chose to air a princess musical? But I digress, as is oft to happen here).


    Keeps your eyes open, and I'm sure you'll spot the unique look of Alan Cumming in other movies and TV series. I'm also pretty sure you can expect to see a great deal of him in the future. In fact, he'll be in the upcoming movie Burlesque with Cher and Christina Aquilera (although after reading about that film, I have very low expectations for it). And if you're interested in learning more about Alan Cumming, you can peruse his website or read his blog.

    Do you have a favorite "odd-ball" actor or actress?


    Hope you all have a fabulous weekend. I have nothing planned, but of course, as history has shown us, that doesn't mean I won't have some wild tales to share with you on Monday.

    Thursday, August 5, 2010

    Got Me Some Tickets to That There Gun Show

    Since you've all Steve G.'s been dying to hear about the gun show I attended on Saturday, here ya go. (FYI- I didn't take any of these pictures. I had my camera with me but I was too afraid to take it out. Some pics were taken from the gun show's website. Others were swiped from Google images.)


    Last Saturday I attended The Nation's Gun Show in Chantilly, VA with the G-Man. I knew that there wasn't even a tiny fraction of me that wanted to go to the gun show. I knew that it would be painful and torturous and would come quite close to being as horrific as that awful time I was dragged to InfoComm in Orlando last year. Boy was I ever wrong. The Nation's Gun Show was a hundred times worse than InfoComm where at least they had flashy lights to distract me, TVs to entertain me, and AV geeks to ogle after me. And there was free booze and food and an entirely free, catered party at the Hard Rock Cafe to get smashed at. And when I had had enough of the actual InfoComm event (and I was only there for an hour) I was able to sit by the pool for the rest of the week. Heck. I even got to go to Sea World. The Nation's Gun Show? Not so much fun.

    The gun show was loaded.

    First of all, I was told that we wouldn't be at the show for long, which in my mind, meant no more than an hour. In reality it meant that we were there for an hour and a half, made it through only half of the show, took a break for a late lunch, and then returned for another hour and a half for the rest of the show. To say that it was the worst experience of my life might be stretching it a bit, but not by much. For the ease of reading, I've broken down the highlights and lowlights of the gun show into some handy dandy lists.

     If only it were this empty when we were there. Whatever. It still would have sucked.

    Things That Shocked Me About the Gun Show
    1. It cost $12 per adult to get in (I did not pay for my ticket).
    2. People were walking around with guns slung over their shoulders.
    3. People were walking around with descriptions of said guns taped to their bodies in case anyone was interested in buying them.
    4. There was a lot of Nazi paraphernalia. I mean, a lot.
    5. I didn't get hit on at all. Not once. (This is a good thing. Usually at events where there are a lot of a particular kind of man in attendance all women get hit on).
    6. There were very few women in attendance.
    7. Most of the women in attendance were pregnant.
    8. There was very little camo.
    9. There were a lot of American Eagle polo shirts.

     Apparently there's a large market for Nazi souvenirs.
     
    Things That I Hated About the Gun Show
    1. My claustrophobia kicked into high gear.
    2. As a result of my claustrophobia, my anxiety level was through the roof.
    3. It was impossible to walk around with out bumping into at least three other people while doing so.
    4. There were a lot of overweight men there.
    5. There was a lot of body odor.
    6. There was a lot of man cleavage.
    7. There was a lot of butt cleavage.
    8. I'm pretty sure there were Klan members in attendance.
    9. I'm pretty sure everyone there were McCain and Palin supporters (well, maybe not Palin, she is a woman after all, and the only place a woman should be is in the kitchen).
    10. I'm pretty sure there were many wife beaters in attendance.
    11. We were told that New York was a communist state (actually, I wasn't told this, the G-Man was, as no one at the show spoke to or looked directly at me. Good times).

     This guy probably wasn't there, but if he had been, I'm sure he would have fit right in.

    Things That Entertained Me About the Gun Show
    1. People watching.
    2. Identifying the serial killers.
    3. Being ignored by every single vendor there.
    4. Not having to feign interest in anything people were selling.

    DUE TO PUBLIC SAFETY ISSUES AND INSURANCE REQUIREMENTS, THERE WILL BE NO LOADED GUNS, OR MAGAZINES, ALLOWED ON THE SHOW FLOOR. THIS APPLIES TO VENDORS AS WELL AS THE GENERAL PUBLIC. SORRY, BUT WITHOUT MEETING THE INSURANCE REQUIREMENTS THE SHOW CANNOT GO ON, AND AS MUCH AS WE MIGHT AGREE ( or disagree ) WITH YOUR OBJECTIONS, WE MUCH PREFER TO CONTINUE THE SHOW IN SPITE OF THIS SMALL INCONVENIENCE. THIS MATTER IS NOT OUR POLICY OR DECISION, BUT WE CANNOT AND WILL NOT CHANGE IT OR MAKE EXCEPTIONS.     
    The gun show Word of Caution
      
    The place was packed, folks. I mean, wall-to-wall rednecks/meat heads/douchebags. I spent most of the time trying to find quiet little corners of empty space among the vendors' booths to hide in. In fact, the entire time we were there, I touched a total of two things (three if you count madly clutching my purse. Four if you count madly gripping the back of the G-Man's shirt lest I be sucked into a sea of overweight, stinky, Republicans)- 1) a collection of wartime advertisements and 2) a beautiful dragonfly fabric some gun vendor was using as a table cloth.

    The only thing I was interested in at the gun show. The vendor probably thought I was a weirdo.


    It would probably come as no surprise to you all that I insisted we get out of there ASAP. If I never attend another gun show in my life, it will be too soon.
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