Wednesday, April 30, 2008
It has its benefits and its pitfalls, but for the most part, I've been happy. It's not a place that lets me use my creativity or my writing skills, but it's not the worst job in the world. (Being a bank teller was the worst job in the world. I'd scoop elephant shit for 12 hours straight before I ever went back to being a bank teller.)
But today I was really hurt.
It's easy to tell when someone is going to say something that will offend you. It's not in the way they're looking at you, or their tone of voice or anything. Nope...much simpler.
They will say, "No offense, but..."
Which, loosely translated, simply means:
"Look. I am going to say something to offend you and most likely hurt your feelings, thus making you want to jab a dull salad fork into my right eye. However, because I have forewarned you, you are not allowed to feel or do any of what I previously mentioned. In other words, I'm saving my ass and justifying being a complete assjerk." (Yes, assjerk...)
And that's how it started. Although I'm never invited to staff meetings, because the board room was occupied, they held the staff meeting in my part of the office. There was talk about moving people and desks and whatnot (I was too busy actually working to hear), and then I heard one person (a person that I honestly like), say, "No offense but..."
(Sweet Jesus, here it comes...)
"...I don't really care where we stick Tiffany. It's nothing personal, it's just that she's part time so it doesn't matter, ya know?"
Hold the holy hell up.
You know, just stick me out back by the dumpster...that would be great. Because, you know, it doesn't matter. I'm only part time...
Crap...I need to make it through this audition. At least give me some hope!
Tuesday, April 29, 2008
Monday, April 28, 2008
Not so, my friend, not so.
Went to lunch at the Mexican joint up the street. Half-price margarita day.
So 3 margaritas and one Pacifico Cerveza later, I'm at work and I'm buzzed. That's a first.
Sunday, April 27, 2008
I'm happy to say that it's coming along fairly nicely.
It's funny, I haven't really written much because I've been so absorbed by the job hunt, so it's a really nice break for me. I like being absorbed by a writing project again...even in those moments when I want to pull my eyebrows out in frustration.
On a different note, no cats shit in the foyer today.
Instead they decided to drop a pile at the bottom of the basement stairs.
Saturday, April 26, 2008
Friday, April 25, 2008
Woke up to apple pancakes, orange juice, sausages (this word makes me laugh), eggs, and fruit.
We took a little nap because, well, naps are just nice every now and then.
The Jellyvision Writing Audition arrived in my inbox this afternoon. Woot!
The rest of the night will consist of the following:
1.) A trip to the Dollar Items store on Lincoln to take pictures of the nonsense we found during the clown hunt last Saturday.
2.) Dinner. I wanted eggs Benedict from Golden Angel...Jeff thinks that eggs Benedict combined with beer and cocktails is a bad idea. I guess I agree. No gut rot for me, thanks.
3.) A trip to Horseshoe for some Rockabilly/Bluegrass with the Hoyle Brothers.
4.) A trip to Martyrs for crazy marching band tunes with Mucca Pazza.
5.) A trip to Goose Island Wrigleyville for sexy bluesy music with Miss Jackie and the Sass.
Holy crap. I'm glad I took that nap.
P.S. Go Cubs. Kick the shit out of the Nationals...please.
Thursday, April 24, 2008
There was a man walking his dog across the parking lot and at first I thought the dog only had three legs. I realized this wasn't the case, but my mind decided to explore the topic further, and this is how it played out as I parked the V-Dub:
A lot of people with three-legged dogs name the dog Tripod. That's cool I guess. You know what would be cooler though?
A one-legged dog...
Then I walked into Walgreens and stood in line behind a man wearing sweatpants that resembled baseball pants...who was buying 3 bottles of Walgreens brand diet cola, light Pringles, and ant traps.
And he liked to stare at me.
Wednesday, April 23, 2008
Anyhow, nothing really new to report---oh yeah: I FINALLY found a freaking clown yesterday. I'll post a pic later.
Also, I was thinking about how "shat" is a funny word.
One of my parents' cats shat in our foyer this morning. "Have a great day...and by the way, here's a steaming pile for you to clean up...meow."
Monday, April 21, 2008
So after my interview, I decided that I needed a Tiffany-style follow up---it's "how I do"...or whatever the kids are saying these days. (Amanda, if you're reading this it's going to spoil your surprise. Just a heads up.)
Without going into detail, basically we talked about how my coworker has a porcelain clown collection which I find to be hilarious. Mostly because the collection sits in his office. Who brings Hummel-like clowns to work and what is that thought-process like? God bless the man, but to me it's just funny. (Although, I do have a penguin on my desk, along with an old calendar page that says: "JAPANESE CANDY DROPS: Snot From the Nose of the Great Buddha" and a Hershey Kiss flag taped to my monitor.)
Because of that part of our conversation, I decided that sending a ceramic clown with my thank you letter would be a nice jester---I mean gesture. (I am fully aware of how horrendous that pun was...fully aware.)
Guess the foof what? It's darn near impossible to find a ceramic clown these days. Jeff and I spent most of Saturday scouring every dollar store...and there wasn't a single clown among the rows and rows of multi-cultural angels, teddy bears with video cameras, decorative Hippopotamus plates, and light-up dog plant statues. (No really, we stumbled across a ceramic house with large stems shooting from the back of it, and on top of the stems were light up dog-heads...in about 5 random breeds. I almost bought that instead.)
Unfortunately I forgot my camera, because the other novelties we found in our 6 hour search warranted a pictorial of epic proportions. One example, the knock-off Bratz dolls guaranteed to be "Fun for kids and fangle."
I'm not sure what a fangle is, but if I ever come across one, I'll know what to get it for its birthday...
Or the "Twinkling Stars" decals...that were hearts.
Or, the piece de resistance: No crap. A mini-super-soaker water gun with the slogan "I have a dream." Oh yeah? And what kind of dream would that be? (Don't answer that. The Dream Water Gun is one of those jokes that writes itself, folks... Use your imagination.)
There was also an infant doll holding a cell phone. And the Caucasian Indian Princess play kit.
Oh the list is endless, and we will be going back to take pictures...I have now learned my lesson: My camera is to accompany me at all times.
Then Jeff had a great moment of realization. The conversation went like this:
Jeff: What do you mean we can't park here. It's a freaking strip mall!
Me: Yeah, just park down there.
Jeff: You know, I've always found that when you're looking for something it's always the last place you look.
Me (after an awkward silence): You're right babe. Because once you find it (I'm laughing now), why the hell would you keep looking for it?
Jeff: Oh my God. You're right. (pause) Hey, look at all the granny panties in the window.
So I'm still looking for a ceramic clown. And after finding that these buggers are so hard to, well, find...I now realize that my coworker's collection is even FUNNIER. Where the hell is he buying them from?
I will now laugh at the clowns...alone...again.
Friday, April 18, 2008
I needed a picture to make me laugh today. And this one seemed to fit the bill. I took it three years ago for no apparent reason other than the fact that A.) Flamingos are funny...especially lawn flamingos. (Where, pray tell, would one ever see a wild flamingo trotting around the yard in the Midwest?) And B.) well, there is no B. Flamingos are funny...period.
Don't get me wrong, today's not a bad day...it's just eh...
I wish I had a camera phone. I'm contemplating kidnapping one of the porcelain clowns from my boss's office and holding it for ransom. You know, take pictures of it in front of popular northwest Indiana and Chicago landmarks and leave little notes about leaving a bag of unmarked bills in the garbage can behind Big Bubba's House of Hot Fun. (What?)
Holy crap. So I went to lunch mid-blog. We went to the Cracker Barrel (if there was ever a place to find some wacky inspiration, this would be at the top of the list...wow.) Anyhow, I went with my boss and a few other coworkers. The waitress came to our table and greeted us, and then she dropped a bomb: "Hello. How are you today? (pause) My name is Yo-Yo and I'll be your server today."
Yo-yo? Really? I looked at her name tag to make sure that all the photocopying I'd been doing at work hadn't caused mild psychosis. And there it was in yellow embroidery thread: "Yo-yo"
Hyphen and all.
So, being the goofball that I am, I looked around the table, expecting eye contact from one of my coworkers that said, "Did she really just say her name was Yo-yo?!"
But nobody else seemed to notice...or care.
People! Our waitress was named after a string toy! Yo-freaking-yo! What the shit?
Needless to say, I resigned to eating my hash brown casserole and coleslaw in silence, contemplating what would inspire a parent to name her child Yo-yo. I also assumed that Yo-yo had siblings named Frisbee, Silly-Putty, and Whiffle.
What a family reunion that would be...
Back to photocopying 300 pages...
I wish I had a Yo-yo to help pass the time right about now.
Thursday, April 17, 2008
I won't go into details, but it was just overall an awesome thing. (That sentence was lame. Sorry, I'm running on less than adequate sleep and I'm burping up Mylanta...it doesn't taste great going down, and it sure as hell isn't pleasant the second time around...)
I remember hearing once to do something every day that scares you. In addition to the big interview, I also made a left turn onto a busy Chicago street. Okay, so I almost hit a pedestrian who looked like Lewis Black...but I did it. I just gunned it and shoved my Indiana-plated Bug right in line. Then I turned up "Boogie in Your Butt" and jammed out down Halsted. (I'm not going to go where my mind is leading me with that last sentence...)
My tongue is blue from the Gatorade I've been drinking since last night. I wonder if it was blue during the interview. Crap. In addition to the blue tongue, I also brought a few friends with me. Yep, 5 gigantor pimples decided to join me for moral support. Ah...the joys of sebum.
Anyways, I am going to take a little nap. Or maybe eat some pizza. Or maybe hoop a little. My hoop was in my car, and I wanted to bring it in the house. They're doing sewer work on Jeff's street, so when I walked by the construction workers got seductive looks on their faces...like it was a bachelor party and Fi-Fi the hula hooping stripper had just arrived. So I twirled it on my hand as I walked to the front door. I think I heard a cat-call or two. Nice. Nothing like the sound of sweaty construction workers and cement trucks in the afternoon.
Sunday, April 13, 2008
Okay, so I'll admit, when I heard that New Kids on the Block were planning reunion tour, I reverted to an 11-year-old preteen. I was a bit excited.
Part of it was the fact that at this point in my life, I'm swiftly approaching 30 and it would be nice to reminisce about my preteen days, with all of the knowledge I've gained since. The other part stemmed from the fact that I was curious to see what these boys would look like all grown up.
Can I just say that I think I might be psychic? Have you seen Joey McIntyre lately? Hot. (And this in no way implies that I am unhappy with the love of my life...I'm just saying, little Joey is all grown up and damn, he's hot.) Jonathan Knight isn't too shabby either. He looks like he'd be the good-dad type. And Donnie? Well, I've always had respect for him. He was the NKOTB bad boy, and then he hit Hollywood.
Unfortunately, although I'm sure Jordan Knight is a nice guy (and I even like that solo jam he had a few years back), he's beginning to resemble Joan Rivers...I think he's had some work done. And as for Danny...well, he hasn't changed bit. Unfortunately that means that his old nickname still fits...a name my girlfriends and I gave him as preteens: Monkeyface. (I think a lot of people called Danny "Monkeyface" though.) Yep. He's still Monkeyface.
Okay, so 3 out of 5 ain't bad.
And I'm still going to see them if and when they come to Chicago. I'll be sure to bring my gigantic Joey McIntyre pins and black hat with the top cut out. Hell, maybe I'll even get a perm---for shits and giggles.
Wednesday, April 9, 2008
Okay, fair enough.
I just spent the last 25 minutes wrestling with the paper shredder at work. I say wrestling because every time I fed it something, it gave me sass. "Paper bin is full." "Feeder is jammed." "That document tasted like a fart." (Okay, I made that last one up...but trust me, I saw what was written on that document. And if it had a taste, fart would be it.)
As I stuffed paper after paper into the machine, my mind began to wander. And then I noticed the universal warning symbols.
Okay, first of all, if you need a symbol to show you that it's dangerous to stick your hand into a row of fast moving, razor sharp blades, you have no business being anywhere near a paper shredder...hell, I wouldn't even let you use my cheese grater.
Second of all, I want to meet the first guy who actually got his necktie caught in the damn thing, requiring a new logo depicting a necktie, sharp blades, and the universal symbol for "no" to be placed on paper shredders across the world.
In all honesty, I hope the dude's okay. But really...what the hell was he doing?
In my boredom, I decided to take on the task of making up some more paper shredder warning symbols...you know, just in case.
No Fry Guy near paper shredder. But feel free to shove Ronald in there...please.
No Stevie Nicks near paper shredder. She wears curtains. That's all I gotta say.
Do not Put Cheese into paper shredder. Some dipwad might think this is okay. Okay, so I might be that dipwad. Better safe than sorry I guess.
No Gene Simmons near paper shredder. Frizzy rocker mullet, freakishly long tongue, and mad chest hair. Yep, that's a recipe for paper shredder disaster.
No llamas near paper shredder. There's no reason for this one other than the fact the I like llamas. And every office appliance could benefit from a decal of a cartoon llama. Period.
Okay, okay, so they're not the greatest logos, but they gave me an excuse to draw at work. And to be creative at work.
Otherwise it's back to shoving documents into various office appliances. Wee.
Till next time,