Things I learned in 2010:
1. When you are unemployed, no job is below you. Despite being partially employed this year, I spent a lot of time not making money. A lot of time being poor. So I had to find employment, and so began my adventures cleaning houses. A few people would make jokes about my new job as a maid, but you know what? I made money. I could drive to school. I could eat. That is what matters. I also worked in retail again - a job I vowed I would never take again after several bad experiences. Yes it sucked. Yes I still hate retail. But my coworkers were freakin' awesome and I made some friends.
2. You don't get to pick your animal, your animal picks you. When I got Kairi, formerly known as Cuddles, in July I knew she was the one. Boyfriend and I were "just looking" when I sat down on a bench to get a better perspective on the "kitten room." Lo and behold, Cuddles jumped up into my lap and decided I would be her human. She is, in most ways, perfect. She plays. She cuddles. She is adorable. And she is really tolerant. She just doesn't yodel. Too bad...
3. My mom is an amazing person. In 2010 I "sort of" moved out of my parents' place and into Boyfriend's place. I say sort of because I don't actually pay rent. But I do clean. And I think strongly about sometimes cooking. I'm working on the paying thing, but that requires more/real work. I'm working on it! Anyway. Living with family inevitably leads to wanting to smash your face into a wall. That's the way of family. But after spending time away from them, I really appreciate all of the things my mom does for me. She brought us a Christmas dinner - turkey, potatoes, pie, etc - and today is coming to bring by plates and silverware because apparently paper plates just aren't good enough.
3. Netflix is the best invention ever. I was never really a TV person. I watched movies sometimes. I usually had ABC Family on in the background for some reason when I was on Facebook. But it wasn't an interest of mine. This year, I got Netflix. I finally had a chance to watch all of those shows I heard about and really fell in love with the stories, characters, and awesomeness. Bones and Weeds are two favorites of mine. The streaming feature is awesome. If you don't have Netflix yet, you really need to get in on this. I promise you won't be disappointed.
Thursday, December 30, 2010
Thursday, August 19, 2010
First Line
I want to write a story. Short or novel, I'm not sure, yet. Here is the first line:
Eveline was twelve years old when she walked in on Big Brother and Blonde Girl doing it on the old ratty couch in the basement.
I wonder where it'll go... Thoughts?
Eveline was twelve years old when she walked in on Big Brother and Blonde Girl doing it on the old ratty couch in the basement.
I wonder where it'll go... Thoughts?
Sunday, August 15, 2010
A Veggie Burger With Bacon
"I can well imagine an atheist's last words: 'White, white! L-L-Love! My God!'-and the deathbed leap of faith." --Pi Patel
There was no leap of faith. No flash of life before my eyes. There was light, though. A lot of light.
But I guess I'll start from the beginning. After all, I'm trying to make an exciting blog post based on just moments of action.
I saw Scott Pilgrim tonight, which may have been one of the better movies I've seen lately. It was deliciously geeky and absolutely fun. Interestingly, there was a little boy sitting in front of me with a hat seven times larger than his head. I'm not sure if he ever did see the movie...
Had a short dinner at Chili's afterward. Noticed that The Boyfriend was still wearing his pants from when we were doing spackling/painting in the basement. It reminded me of that commercial "guys have there own way of freshening up, and we have ours..." I seriously need to steal those pants and burn them. Or at least stitch up the huge hole in the ass. And the groin. And the knee. And the pocket. And the other knee. And the - Oh fuck it, they're getting burned.
I want to complain about how cold it was at Chili's and how it took the waitress to long to seat us, but it seems petty now.
After dinner, we went to my house to install my cable box while waiting for my mother to return home. You see, today is her birthday. Unfortunately, she had to work all day and put down one of our horses. I told her we'll rain-check her birthday and celebrate it on a proper day. A day that doesn't suck. Or at least a day that is painfully average.
Comcast still sucks. Nothing new there. No cable. Still.
Every Sunday, I join a friend of mine at her apartment for True Blood. I'll have to tell a story about her cats at a later point... I think one of them is a robot. Well, anyway....
I guess the whole point of this post is not about my dinner or the movie or even the fantastic episode of True Blood. Tonight, I almost died.
The Boyfriend was driving us south on a very well-traveled four lane road. If you're in the area, you know the one. As we are driving, I realize that the two lights in front of us are unusually bright for taillights. In fact, they're most certainly headlights. And they're moving. Towards us.
"WHOA! WHOAWHOAWHOA!"
I didn't know what to do! I had no idea if there was anything to do! Were we in the wrong? We were most certainly on the right side of the road! Perhaps we have switched to British traffic rules for the weekend and somehow I didn't get that memo!
So The Boyfriend begins to frantically honk at this little dark-colored pickup truck. It doesn't slow down. We're slamming on the gas. I'm wondering if I'm going to die without having accomplished something amazing on the same day that my mother lost a horse - a horse and a daughter in the same day? No, that's just cruel!
With the end in sight and this vehicle still plowing right for us, something even more unusual happened. He swerved. Into and over the median. Back to his side of the road.
...
Did that just happen?
Am I dreaming?
Hullucinating?
Does this shit really happen to people?
Our hearts were racing as we pulled up to the light and stopped. A car pulled up next to us and some goofy gentleman, who I am certain has too much money looks at us.
"Hey, head's up! That guy sure was crazy, huh?"
...
Yes.
He was crazy.
Thank you for clearing that up.
There was no leap of faith. No flash of life before my eyes. There was light, though. A lot of light.
But I guess I'll start from the beginning. After all, I'm trying to make an exciting blog post based on just moments of action.
I saw Scott Pilgrim tonight, which may have been one of the better movies I've seen lately. It was deliciously geeky and absolutely fun. Interestingly, there was a little boy sitting in front of me with a hat seven times larger than his head. I'm not sure if he ever did see the movie...
Had a short dinner at Chili's afterward. Noticed that The Boyfriend was still wearing his pants from when we were doing spackling/painting in the basement. It reminded me of that commercial "guys have there own way of freshening up, and we have ours..." I seriously need to steal those pants and burn them. Or at least stitch up the huge hole in the ass. And the groin. And the knee. And the pocket. And the other knee. And the - Oh fuck it, they're getting burned.
I want to complain about how cold it was at Chili's and how it took the waitress to long to seat us, but it seems petty now.
After dinner, we went to my house to install my cable box while waiting for my mother to return home. You see, today is her birthday. Unfortunately, she had to work all day and put down one of our horses. I told her we'll rain-check her birthday and celebrate it on a proper day. A day that doesn't suck. Or at least a day that is painfully average.
Comcast still sucks. Nothing new there. No cable. Still.
Every Sunday, I join a friend of mine at her apartment for True Blood. I'll have to tell a story about her cats at a later point... I think one of them is a robot. Well, anyway....
I guess the whole point of this post is not about my dinner or the movie or even the fantastic episode of True Blood. Tonight, I almost died.
The Boyfriend was driving us south on a very well-traveled four lane road. If you're in the area, you know the one. As we are driving, I realize that the two lights in front of us are unusually bright for taillights. In fact, they're most certainly headlights. And they're moving. Towards us.
"WHOA! WHOAWHOAWHOA!"
I didn't know what to do! I had no idea if there was anything to do! Were we in the wrong? We were most certainly on the right side of the road! Perhaps we have switched to British traffic rules for the weekend and somehow I didn't get that memo!
So The Boyfriend begins to frantically honk at this little dark-colored pickup truck. It doesn't slow down. We're slamming on the gas. I'm wondering if I'm going to die without having accomplished something amazing on the same day that my mother lost a horse - a horse and a daughter in the same day? No, that's just cruel!
With the end in sight and this vehicle still plowing right for us, something even more unusual happened. He swerved. Into and over the median. Back to his side of the road.
...
Did that just happen?
Am I dreaming?
Hullucinating?
Does this shit really happen to people?
Our hearts were racing as we pulled up to the light and stopped. A car pulled up next to us and some goofy gentleman, who I am certain has too much money looks at us.
"Hey, head's up! That guy sure was crazy, huh?"
...
Yes.
He was crazy.
Thank you for clearing that up.
Tuesday, July 20, 2010
The end of Taylor Swift
The year is... Well, sometime in the future.
I find myself in an arcade with several friends and The Boyfriend. Well, they aren't so much with me, as they are existing in the same building. I'm failing at a claw game, or a racing game, or a combination of the two. The frustration leads me to leave the arcade and go to a nearby supermarket to buy candy.
That's where the news hits...
Taylor Swift is dead.
I read and reread the newspaper headline before hurling it in the face of the cashier and running outside. I promptly board the waiting helicopter and set off towards England or Africa. Possibly both.
The ride is short, and soon the wreckage of Taylor's plane is in sight. Our copter lowers and my team of scientists and archeologists approaches. There are burnt bodies and debris covering the ground. What's happened hear?
We set out to understand what has caused this horrible tragedy when the sounds of vicious monkey-lions carries onto our camp. Quick! Who's the most useless member of our team? We decide to sacrifice the blonde woman and threw her to the monkey-lions where she met a horrible demise - more horrible than that of Taylor Swift.
Although, after more hunting, we find that it was not Taylor Swift, but her mother (two weeks pregnant) who has been killed. Was she pregnant with Taylor? If so, how do the newspapers realize that a future pop/country star is dead before reaching her fame? It just doesn't make any sense!
The excavation continues.
Days later, the monkey-lions have returned. I run. I run as fast as my legs can carry me through the deserted suburbs. My team follows, but they have no sense of urgency, and a few of them are picked off.
The world is becoming more and more deserted, and I think I'm truly in England now. There is a McDonalds across the street from a big red barn, but the freeway-bridge behind it is collapsed. What kind of place is this?
I hide in the barn, peeking out through the windows to see if the monkey-lions are chasing us. Several of my team members have made it, and we stay still and silent. But a mob of people is running towards us! We panic, unsure of how everyone is going to fit in this barn! Surely this isn't to fire code.
A ladder drops from the ceiling and Kellan Lutz summons us to the rafters above the barn. We climb the ladder and manage to raise it to the ceiling and hide before the mob of crazy people and monkey-lions enter the barn and prowl around. People are dying below us, but it's okay because we're safe.
The rafters aren't really rafters, but a stadium with an open roof. It's beautiful out. Somehow, being up here makes the world look like a less catastrophic version of itself. There are fireworks, even! Kellan and his friends are singing the Star Spangled Banner, and we all celebrate our country's independence... From the country we are in.
No one seems to know where they are in this strange, post-apocalyptic world.
I find myself in an arcade with several friends and The Boyfriend. Well, they aren't so much with me, as they are existing in the same building. I'm failing at a claw game, or a racing game, or a combination of the two. The frustration leads me to leave the arcade and go to a nearby supermarket to buy candy.
That's where the news hits...
Taylor Swift is dead.
I read and reread the newspaper headline before hurling it in the face of the cashier and running outside. I promptly board the waiting helicopter and set off towards England or Africa. Possibly both.
The ride is short, and soon the wreckage of Taylor's plane is in sight. Our copter lowers and my team of scientists and archeologists approaches. There are burnt bodies and debris covering the ground. What's happened hear?
We set out to understand what has caused this horrible tragedy when the sounds of vicious monkey-lions carries onto our camp. Quick! Who's the most useless member of our team? We decide to sacrifice the blonde woman and threw her to the monkey-lions where she met a horrible demise - more horrible than that of Taylor Swift.
Although, after more hunting, we find that it was not Taylor Swift, but her mother (two weeks pregnant) who has been killed. Was she pregnant with Taylor? If so, how do the newspapers realize that a future pop/country star is dead before reaching her fame? It just doesn't make any sense!
The excavation continues.
Days later, the monkey-lions have returned. I run. I run as fast as my legs can carry me through the deserted suburbs. My team follows, but they have no sense of urgency, and a few of them are picked off.
The world is becoming more and more deserted, and I think I'm truly in England now. There is a McDonalds across the street from a big red barn, but the freeway-bridge behind it is collapsed. What kind of place is this?
I hide in the barn, peeking out through the windows to see if the monkey-lions are chasing us. Several of my team members have made it, and we stay still and silent. But a mob of people is running towards us! We panic, unsure of how everyone is going to fit in this barn! Surely this isn't to fire code.
A ladder drops from the ceiling and Kellan Lutz summons us to the rafters above the barn. We climb the ladder and manage to raise it to the ceiling and hide before the mob of crazy people and monkey-lions enter the barn and prowl around. People are dying below us, but it's okay because we're safe.
The rafters aren't really rafters, but a stadium with an open roof. It's beautiful out. Somehow, being up here makes the world look like a less catastrophic version of itself. There are fireworks, even! Kellan and his friends are singing the Star Spangled Banner, and we all celebrate our country's independence... From the country we are in.
No one seems to know where they are in this strange, post-apocalyptic world.
Thursday, July 8, 2010
The nun the got away...
Recently, I was almost involved in an act so dreadful that it would have guaranteed me a one-way ticket to Hell.
My current ticket is round-trip. But it's also invalid.
I almost killed a nun.
Well, technically, I wasn't driving the death-machine, so maybe my hands are clean. But my friend and I were driving through a parking lot trying to find somewhere to shop. You see, we were going to an Adam Lambert concert, so we needed crazy clothes. Somehow, crazy clothes turned to crazy minds. And crazy minds should not be driving.
Well, as we're both staring out of MY window at this store, trying to decide whether or not to approach, I turn back to the road to see a woman in the cross walk.
"OLD WOMAN!" I screamed.
My friend glances back and slams on her breaks, at which point, the woman glanced at us.
"NUUUUUUUN!" I yelled.
We stopped.
This woman. This nun! She had an insane face. One eye was just a little bigger than the other, and her nose was clearly the king of her face-kingdom. And she just stared at us. Stared as she shuffled across the road. It's like she was damning us to Hell.
I have a thing about yelling short phrases when I'm in distress. Once, my freshman year of college, I almost died in an elevator.
These elevators were KNOWN for eating backpacks and extremities. Well, as I was walking through the door to board the hungry elevator, the doors began to close on me. Quickly, too. We're not talking hungry like a venus fly trap. Hungry like, maybe, a jackal.
So I stopped, raised my left leg, scrunched up my shoulders, turned partially around to look at my roommate behind me, and yelled...
"ELEVATOOOOR!"
Fortunately, I survived.
My current ticket is round-trip. But it's also invalid.
I almost killed a nun.
Well, technically, I wasn't driving the death-machine, so maybe my hands are clean. But my friend and I were driving through a parking lot trying to find somewhere to shop. You see, we were going to an Adam Lambert concert, so we needed crazy clothes. Somehow, crazy clothes turned to crazy minds. And crazy minds should not be driving.
Well, as we're both staring out of MY window at this store, trying to decide whether or not to approach, I turn back to the road to see a woman in the cross walk.
"OLD WOMAN!" I screamed.
My friend glances back and slams on her breaks, at which point, the woman glanced at us.
"NUUUUUUUN!" I yelled.
We stopped.
This woman. This nun! She had an insane face. One eye was just a little bigger than the other, and her nose was clearly the king of her face-kingdom. And she just stared at us. Stared as she shuffled across the road. It's like she was damning us to Hell.
I have a thing about yelling short phrases when I'm in distress. Once, my freshman year of college, I almost died in an elevator.
These elevators were KNOWN for eating backpacks and extremities. Well, as I was walking through the door to board the hungry elevator, the doors began to close on me. Quickly, too. We're not talking hungry like a venus fly trap. Hungry like, maybe, a jackal.
So I stopped, raised my left leg, scrunched up my shoulders, turned partially around to look at my roommate behind me, and yelled...
"ELEVATOOOOR!"
Fortunately, I survived.
Tuesday, June 8, 2010
You are MAYBE a dick
I have a pet peeve.
If you've ever RSVPed to anything I've ever done, you probably know what this is...
Maybe.
We live in a culture of MAYBE. I blame Facebook. It wasn't until FB decided that "Maybe" was an acceptable RSVP that people started using it like gasoline.
Holy fuckballs.
Slow down, people! We are not in a race to use up all the fucking "maybes"!
Do you know what happens when you say "maybe" to an event? You look like a prick.
"Hey best friend since we met on the playground in third grade! I'm getting married three months and four days from now at 7pm! I want you to be my Maid of Honor!"
"Oh. Um. Maybe."
What? Really? What the fuck, lady?
Why "maybe" makes you look like an asshole:
1) This is what you say when you know for sure you aren't going to attend an event, but you don't want to look like a douche. Invariably, you end up looking like a bigger douche because you are not only giving a false sense of "yes", but you're also blatantly lying. "My kitten's funeral is tomorrow, can you come?" "Oh, er, maybe..." And you think you can just avoid the dead kitten's mother until after the funeral when you can make some sorry excuse like your OWN kitten died!
2) You're essentially saying "I'll be there, UNLESS something better comes along." Wow. I feel important to you. Unless, say, your girlfriend decides it's a good night for anal sex, you're going to come to my birthday party. Awesome.
3) You're really saying "my time is WAY more important than your time." Why? Well, when I'm planning an event, there are a lot of factors. Maybe food. Maybe parking. Alcohol, of course. Fire safety. All of these things need to be considered. When you say "maybe" as a place holder, you want me to count you - I am getting your share of food, booze, and fire code. But you might not show up. What do I do, then? Find someone else?
You know what? If I invite you to an event of mine, don't say "maybe" unless you mean it. Unless you have something tentative planned. Maybe your mom is having a family reunion that week, but she hasn't decided the day yet. She has priority because she was FIRST!
Really, just say no. Straight up. Frankly, if you ever say "maybe" to me, I count you as a "no" anyway.
If you've ever RSVPed to anything I've ever done, you probably know what this is...
Maybe.
We live in a culture of MAYBE. I blame Facebook. It wasn't until FB decided that "Maybe" was an acceptable RSVP that people started using it like gasoline.
Holy fuckballs.
Slow down, people! We are not in a race to use up all the fucking "maybes"!
Do you know what happens when you say "maybe" to an event? You look like a prick.
"Hey best friend since we met on the playground in third grade! I'm getting married three months and four days from now at 7pm! I want you to be my Maid of Honor!"
"Oh. Um. Maybe."
What? Really? What the fuck, lady?
Why "maybe" makes you look like an asshole:
1) This is what you say when you know for sure you aren't going to attend an event, but you don't want to look like a douche. Invariably, you end up looking like a bigger douche because you are not only giving a false sense of "yes", but you're also blatantly lying. "My kitten's funeral is tomorrow, can you come?" "Oh, er, maybe..." And you think you can just avoid the dead kitten's mother until after the funeral when you can make some sorry excuse like your OWN kitten died!
2) You're essentially saying "I'll be there, UNLESS something better comes along." Wow. I feel important to you. Unless, say, your girlfriend decides it's a good night for anal sex, you're going to come to my birthday party. Awesome.
3) You're really saying "my time is WAY more important than your time." Why? Well, when I'm planning an event, there are a lot of factors. Maybe food. Maybe parking. Alcohol, of course. Fire safety. All of these things need to be considered. When you say "maybe" as a place holder, you want me to count you - I am getting your share of food, booze, and fire code. But you might not show up. What do I do, then? Find someone else?
You know what? If I invite you to an event of mine, don't say "maybe" unless you mean it. Unless you have something tentative planned. Maybe your mom is having a family reunion that week, but she hasn't decided the day yet. She has priority because she was FIRST!
Really, just say no. Straight up. Frankly, if you ever say "maybe" to me, I count you as a "no" anyway.
Monday, June 7, 2010
How Earwigs affect Sarah
I had a job interview today. (Yay!) So I am no longer unemployed. Not that I'm *really* employed, but I'm at least more employed than I was previously. This is cause for celebration. Furthermore, the fact that the job interview was approximately 10 minutes long and 110% positive is great.
If you've ever had an awkward job interview, you know how, well, awkward it can be. I've never had a bad interview, but I've definitely had awkward ones. This was certainly not one of them. Well, until the earwig happened.
Everything was great. I had a nice, solid hand shake. I smiled. I was bubbly. I explained how awesome I am, and also how overqualified I was for the position at hand. Yes, everything was perfect.
But then when I pulled out my day planner to check which day I could start...
There was an earwig on it.
I. Flipped. A. Shit.
Me: Oh my GOD!
Manager: What happened?
Me: Ahhhh!!!!!
Manager: *puzzled look*
Me: WHAT DO I DO????
Manager: What is it???
Me: A BUG! AN EARWIG! GROOOOOSSS!!!!!
Fortunately, my (new) manager was chivalrous to slay the beast before it had time to inflict further damage upon my mental health, physical well-being, and image.
Those bugs are fucking disgusting.
If you've ever had an awkward job interview, you know how, well, awkward it can be. I've never had a bad interview, but I've definitely had awkward ones. This was certainly not one of them. Well, until the earwig happened.
Everything was great. I had a nice, solid hand shake. I smiled. I was bubbly. I explained how awesome I am, and also how overqualified I was for the position at hand. Yes, everything was perfect.
But then when I pulled out my day planner to check which day I could start...
There was an earwig on it.
I. Flipped. A. Shit.
Me: Oh my GOD!
Manager: What happened?
Me: Ahhhh!!!!!
Manager: *puzzled look*
Me: WHAT DO I DO????
Manager: What is it???
Me: A BUG! AN EARWIG! GROOOOOSSS!!!!!
Fortunately, my (new) manager was chivalrous to slay the beast before it had time to inflict further damage upon my mental health, physical well-being, and image.
Those bugs are fucking disgusting.
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