Fa la la la la .... la la la .. la ??

After four straight days of work, averaging between eight and nine hours a day on my feet, walking around being nice to people, I finally have a day off. And I have no idea what to do with it. The day after I got back from school, I started working. Moving straight from exam week to hectic work week means that even though I have the next two days off, I can't relax. I'll probably be walking out the door Tuesday morning when I finally reach that relaxed state. Then I'm going to drive out of my neighborhood and it'll be bumper to bumper all the way to Macy's.

Now would be the time that I would complain about all the crazies I had to deal with during the week, but I'm not going to do that. It's the holidays, and when you have to spend 30 minutes looking for a parking place, another 20 minutes walking to the store, and then fight your way through the crowds, hope that the store has what you need and then spend 15-30 minutes in line, then you simply cannot be held responsible for your words and actions.

Instead of complaints, I'll share some quotes. I am always coming up with new and exciting ways to embarrass myself.

to frustrated foreign shopper: "So, where are you visiting from?"
"Iceland"
"Wow, I've never met anyone from Iceland before."

to a woman of indeterminate age: "Are these for your granddaughter?"
"No... for my daughter."

at 11:30 pm, to the customer service clerk, after opening a credit account and winning a prize: "I have a bag, and it's a Kors bag. Go me!" (accompanied by a little retarded dance-- it was late, I was running solely on caffeine)

"Wow, I've been selling red hats all day. Red must be in."
"It's Christmas."
"Oh, I keep forgetting."

Ok, and here's one from a customer: "Thank you sir! I mean, ma'am. You are definitely not a sir, ma'am."

Five down, two to go

Another semester over. I'm back at home, and I have mixed feelings about this. On one hand, I get to be near the fam, eat food that won't make me sick, lose the incredibly pronounced accent I've picked up over the last few months, and on the other hand I get to spend 8+ hours a day in a department store, putting up with Christmas carols and annoying people, and I'm really gonna miss all my intro class and Saturday morning people. I already miss my friends. At least I got to spend some quality time with them before I left. Feeding marshmallows to ducks (it's hilarious-- try it sometime), chasing those same ducks around the park, sitting on the side of a country road in a car with a flat tire, watching Sex in the City and then having a minor nervous breakdown during the commercials (I don't wanna go home! I'm not ready to tell my mom that I'm converting!)... these are the moments I live for. Well, maybe not the nervous breakdown. I so could have done without that.

You know you wanna

Plenty of visitors, but not a single comment since switching over. :(

How to post comments in this new craptastic beta format:

Click: "Post a comment". Then where it says "Choose Identity", click "other" and manually type your stuff.

thanks to: Tamara Eden

So leave me some comments. I would love it if you did.

A Blast from the Past

I was going through my old blog over at Xanga, deleting entries when I came across a gem of a story I wrote during my last month of high school, for theater class. I won a Snickers bar for my efforts. Grammar and spelling aren't what they should be, but hey, I wrote it in high school.



A long time ago in a place that does not exist except in the minds of young children and the co-dependent, there was a princess with a major problem. When the princess was born, a bunch of fairies showed up to bestow their fairy-like gifts upon the regal infant. All the fairies from the kingdom were invited, except for one, who was deemed unworthy. This fairy, Beatrice was really mad, and decided that she would not let a simple thing like not being invited to the biggest party of the year keep her from going. So Beatrice showed up, and all the nice fairies hid in the corner.

“Where’s the brat?” Beatrice asked.

“Overrrrrr therrrrrrrrrreeeeeeeeee,” someone studdered, pointing to a little jewel-encrusted crib where the princess was patiently waiting on her next present.

Beatrice took one enormous step over to the crib and looked down at the kid. The kid looked back, and wondered why Beatrice was not wearing pink like all the other fairies, or even smiling like all the other fairies. Beatrice bent down to get a closer look since her vision was bad and she couldn’t afford laser vision correction. It’s such a drag being an outcast fairy! The princess picked up her little toy scepter and hit Beatrice on the nose with it.

“Aaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!” Beatrice screamed, backing away. “That is it! I was actually going to give you a nice present, but since you did that, I’ll just put a curse on you instead! No pair of scissors will ever be able to cut your hair, except for one, and I’m not telling you where it is!” Beatrice then ran off, leaving the princess, her parents and the fairies standing there, stunned.
Princess Hairball, as she became known, was about sixteen when her curse became a real problem. Her hairdresser tried his hardest to find ways to style Hairball’s hair, but the fact was that the sheer weight of her hair was too much for her to stand. She could not hold her head up at all anymore, and had taken to wearing a neck brace just so she could look at people.
On Hairball’s seventeenth birthday, her hair had reached a width that made it impossible to leave her room. She was very sad, and she spent all of her time in her room with her hairdresser, who tried everything other than cutting her hair. After her fifth bleach job, done in an attempt to make Hairball’s hair become so brittle that it would break, Hairball gave up.

One day, five years after Hairball began spending all her time in her room, she received a visitor. She was shocked, since many people had come, claiming to have Beatrice’s magic scissors, but had promptly left, being scared to death by this girl with a bad bleaching job.
Hairball didn’t even get up to greet her visitor, partially because she could not. “I’ll save you princess!” he said, grabbing a huge hunk of hair and snipping it off with the scissors, which resembled hedge trimmers more than scissors. It took several hours, but Hairball was finally able to sit up, and then hold her head up.

“Oh thank you!” Hairball said once she had her first ever haircut. True, it was choppy beyond reason, but Hairball’s hairdresser could fix that.

“Your welcome,” the guy said.

“Yo! Harvey! It’s time to go home!” someone screamed from outside the window. Hairball poked her head out, not remembering the last time she had been able to do that.

“Your name is Harvey?”

“Uh, yeah.”

“You’re not even a real prince, are you?”

“Uh, no.”

It didn’t matter, because Hairball and Harvey got married anyway, because no prince wanted to marry Hairball. Not only was Queen Hairball a totally unflattering name, Hairball now had a new hair woe. She could now get her hair cut as often as she wanted, but the five consecutive bleaching were irreversible, and Hairball was doomed to spend the rest of her life with freakishly white hair.

Absolutes??

I have a ton of stuff that has to be done by Friday, but yet, here I am, blogging away. Why does blogging have to be so addictive anyway?

Am absolutely thrilled that I managed to finish up Christmas shopping for the fam. Christmas means very little to me anymore, but the fam still really digs it and so I'll try to act excited for their sake. I thought that the mall would be slam full of crazies, but whaddyaknow, AK and I were easily the craziest people there. AK had to go visit her puppies over at the pet store, and I went over to the Hallmark store to pick up some Hanukkah cards. The cashier looked at me kinda weird, but whatever.

Am absolutely aggravated that the Bob wouldn't let me go to services this morning. I really thought the Bob and I were past all this, but I guess not. Roadside assistance is crap. Anyway, maybe I'll make it to intro class tomorrow. I kinda miss my intro class people...

The Bob is back in town

All that drama over my poor car for nothing. The Bob is back, and running just fine (for the moment). Still scary as hell to drive though. Maybe if I work my ass off over break I can scrounge up enough for a down payment for a newish-used car from Mayberry.

*Primal Scream*

30 November: take home exam due
1 December: presentation on Santeria

4 December: Biology exam and paper on Santeria due
5 December: exam on Nigerian and Iranian politics
7 December: presentation, write-up and possible exam
8 December: final exams in Western Civ, contemp. Latin America and Biology

Someone shoot me now.

I Miss The Bob

The Bob is my car. Was my car, I should say. When he first came into my life, five years ago, I was not yet past the point when I still found it necessary to name everything I owned. Stuffed animals, computers, rubber bouncy balls... Anyway, my car became the Bob. Totally unoriginal, I know, but the Bob has become an institution. Back home, and up here. Many memorable things happened/were said in the Bob. Road trips across the state (and beyond), dozens of Waffle House runs, a few beer runs (B-double E-double R-U-N-- BEER RUN!), and a couple heart-to-heart chats. Even if I get a new car and name it the Bob, it just won't be the same.

And what hurts the most was the manner of the Bob's betrayal. If he would have broken down on the side of a safe, two lane road, I would be more ok with this. However, the Bob chose to break down as I was driving up a very dangerous stretch of interstate, straight up a mountain. No exit ramps, no medians. All I could do was wait on the granny next to me (going the same speed I was, and at that point I think I was going 20 mph in a 55) to realize that my hazards were on for a REASON, pull over to the slow lane for trucks, hope that I wouldn't get hit in the process, and wait for the cement barrier to end so I could pull into the grass.

We sat on the side of the road for an hour, waiting on tow truck guy to show. I had to deal with my parents freaking out and telling me that they were on the way (thanks mom, but you can't help me now!), friends calling only to say that they were really sorry, but no, they couldn't come pick us up, and my traveling companions trying to cheer me up. All I could do was sit in the drivers' seat, watching all the cars pass by, and think "Wow, G-d must really hate me today."

Finally tow truck guy showed up. And of course the minute that the Bob was on the truck, a cop pulled over and asked if we needed anything. The ride over to the body shop was not fun. There wasn't enough room for all of us in the cab, so S had to sit on my lap. We eventually made it back to school, safe and sound.

Now, all I have to do is figure out how I'm going to get to intro class and services this week. Having a car isn't everything, but it makes things so much easier.

Nightmare on 34th Street

Black Friday is not the best day to go back to work after being gone for three months. Especially when Place of Employment was bought out by the biggest department store chain in the country. New Place of Employment is not nearly as cool. I can't use their coupons because I'm an employee, and HR can't keep me on the payroll when I'm at school, so I'll have to reapply for my job every holiday season and summer. However, they gave me a magnetic name badge. No more screwing up my shirts with clips and pins. That counts for something, right?

Though my shift actually started at five-thirty, the store didn't open until six. But it could have been much, much worse. I still had to deal with my fair share of crazies. Angry women that thought it was my fault, and had no problems letting me know so, that Place of Employment does not accept combined coupons. Or that we do not have coupons at the register to scan for every single person that asks. Hello, it's company policy... do not yell at me at 7:15 in the morning! Later on I had a kid get severely PO'ed at me because I can't speak Spanish (other than "Hola, como estas?". And the sheer numbers of people that wanted to use gift receipts as coupons...

To explain the title of this post: we were giving away copies of Miracle on 34th Street to our big spenders. I could not, for the life of me, remember the name of that movie, so I kept calling it Miracle on Elm Street and Nightmare on 34th Street. At one point I said to a customer "Wouldn't it be hilarious if Santa disguised himself as Krueger?" Luckily, she thought it was as funny as I did.

Gobble?

So I'm home again. Awaiting the arrival of the family. Am actually excited about it. Our version of "Dirty Uncle Sal" might not even show up. Hooray, I will be spared the embarassment of him asking me if "those things" (my boobs) are real after he's had a couple beers. I will also be spared the task of having to knock out his one remaining tooth if he asks. Sound extreme? Well, I'm sick of it, and no one else in the fam ever says or does anything about it, so I'm taking the matter into my own hands. However, I am going to have a good time. My mom cooked enough food to feed an army, and I plan on eating a lot of it. Bring on the turkey! Bring on the cranberry salad! Bring on the deviled eggs! Bring on the ham! Nah, screw the ham. But do bring on the pumpkin pie!

Why? Why, Why, WHY???????????

Getting sick or injured on holidays is something that comes naturally to me. Last Christmas I had the flu. Thanksgiving two years ago I had an upper respiratory tract infection. Spring break when I was seventeen I don't even know what I had, but I know I ran a temperature of 106. My mom physically carried me to the tub, dumped me in and threw ice cubes and cold water on me. Thanks mom.. Last 4th of July my contact broke (while I was wearing it), and I had to miss out on overtime $$ at Macy's so I could go to the ER and have one of their *fine* young doctors scratch my cornea. And then there was that time when all the neighborhood kids got head lice. On fucking New Years Eve! Currently, I have some kind of stomach bug. Am delighted to report that it is not food poisoning, which hey, after eating in the cafeteria, is nothing short of a miracle.

However, my attitude towards my roommate: not so good. When we came to our unspoken agreement that we would share certain things, I was thinking food, laundry money, alcohol. Anything but infectious diseases. And now she's at her house, resting up where mama can take care of her, and I'm here in my dorm room, sad and lonely with a badly drawn biohazard symbol on my door. I want someone to pour Sprite down my throat and bring me crackers. I want not to feel like typhoid Mary. Up until 11 pm last night, I thought that I had food poisoning, so I went about my business. Saw a play, went to intro class, went to my sorority meeting, spread my germs around... I really hope that no one gets sick because of me.

Sheer and Utter Boredom

I have, sitting in front of me, five movies. I intend to watch all of them tonight, or at the very latest before time to go to intro class tomorrow. Gawd, I cannot wait until Tuesday.

An Evening With Maya Angelou

The fact that someone that famous would bother to even come to this part of the state, and then to my craptastic little college is nothing short of a miracle. Never in my life have I seen so many people on campus. The auditorium can hold more people than this town has citizens, and every single seat was full. My first thought when Ms. Angelou took the stage was "Oh, she's so small!" I was expecting her to be almost larger than life. And then she started speaking. She talked about her life, read some poetry, made us laugh, made some of us cry, all in the span of an hour and a half. I only wish that she could have gone on talking all night.

More information about the event here and here

Some things I've realized in the last week

1) I grind my teeth when I sleep. However, my roommate snores so I guess we're even.
2) Diet Ginger Ale is crap.
3) Christmas = completely uninteresting.
4) Oddballs tend to like me. What that says about me, who knows?

5) Three years at college and I'm still a procrastinating dumbass.

6) My attempts to hide my accent are not working as well as I thought.

The Well Meaning Freshman Who Won't Shut Up

This has not been a good morning for me. After giving my alarm clock a thorough pounding (I'll have to reset it, so thorough was the pounding), I managed to get up, throw on some clothes and venture out into the freezing cold. Along the way, I encountered WMFWWSU. My first meeting with her was about two weeks ago. I took the long way this morning after I saw her up ahead, because I just knew that she was gonna want to do that talking thing that I'm not a big fan of that early in the morning. She didn't take the hint, and was waiting for me when I got to the sidewalk. She proceeded to complain about how cold it was, while I grunted my replies. She finally went to the library and I got to enjoy the silence for a few minutes until I got to class.

Now, it's not that I'm mean (well, not entirely). I would have treated my very best friend the same way if she were chattering incessantly in my ear at 7:45 in the frickin' morning.

Shabbat Shalom

Today was my first visit to a synagogue in over a year. The last time I went was when I took a class on Judaism when I was a sophomore. My reasons for taking the class were because it was to be taught by a Holocaust survivor, and because it satisfied an elective requirement. Who knew that that class would lead me to where I am right now?

Since my reasons for going to services were much different this time than they were before, I was a lot more nervous. I kept wondering if I was allowed to read stuff out loud when the rest of the congregation did, and if it was ok to touch the scroll with the prayer book. I wasn't even sure if it would be ok for me to eat afterwards, because I didn't bring any food to share.

I did stay for lunch, and am so glad I did. I met a lot of new people, though I mostly tried to stay close to people I know from intro class. After I left, I was a little less than stoked to return to school, which is, honest to God, redneck central, so I kept on driving. All the way to Tennessee. I stopped at an overlook, hiked up to the top (easier said than done in a peasant skirt and glorified ballet slippers) and sat up there for a long time. This area might be backwards, but it is so beautiful. I got to see the last of the colored leaves. During peak, the mountains are almost blinding. Brilliant reds, yellows and oranges, everywhere you look. Everyone should come here at least once in their life, just to see the leaves in the fall. It is totally worth it.

Why can't I have a weak stomach?

Ok, that isn't a question that a lot of people ask. But after spending two hours this morning, elbow deep in fetal pig guts, I would kill to be the squeamish one, instead of the one who always has to do the nasty stuff because no one else will. When Biology started, the teacher gave us all the impression that there would be no dissections. And yet, there I was at eight in the morning opening up a baby pig while the stench of formaldahyde nearly knocked me out. Not to mention having to put up with my very freshman lab partner. "Pig wiener!!!!!"

*WARNING: Stop here if easily grossed out. Seriously.*

See, I can totally handle looking at dead animal insides, if I didn't make that clear enough. The thing that bothers me is that I love animals and I get overly attached to them. Piggie wasn't any different than the cat I had to first skin and then dissect back in high school. Yes, I had to dissect a cat. Yes, I am still bothered by that four years later. Here's a giant example of how attached I get to animals: I remember looking down at poor little piggie this morning and thinking to myself: "This is so wrong. I bet this little critter (yeah, I'm Southern, deal with it) had hopes and dreams that did NOT involve lying on a table with her stomach cut open and her legs up in the air!" Later on when I found out she was a girl, I had to fight the urge to grab some paper towels and cover her up.

This has been my most graphic post ever. If you managed to finish reading it, go get yourself a nice treat. You deserve it.

Look Ma! Two posts in one day!

I love penguins.

My first ever E-Bay purchase involved a penguin charm bracelet.

If it was possible to keep a penguin as a pet, I would be first in line at PetSmart.

But it isn't.

So, I will now entertain my viewers (all two of you-- thanks statcounter), as well as myself, with some penguiny goodness.

I haven't been this excited about an animated film in a very long time.

Dancing penguins are big in France too!

Who'll Stop the Rain?

I like naming my blog posts after songs. It's very Grey's Anatomy-esque. Honestly, it quit raining a few minutes ago. However, I was sitting in biology, bored out of my mind when I came up with the title, and I don't want it to go to waste. So yeah, about rain. It's been mind-numbingly cold and rainy for the last 2 days. And not the normal rain. We've had the kind of rain that fluctuates between steady rain and misty drizzle. The kind of rain that makes you wonder if a different sort of precipitation will follow. 'Cause if it has to be this cold, I want to see some snow, dang it! In addition to our craptastic weather, every remaining leaf on campus has decided to part ways with its tree. A thousand little leaf bodies on the sidewalk. Enough to make one feel like they're committing leaficide.


And now for a public service announcement: Becca, leave me some comments! Please?

This Just In...

I have a newfound appreciation for:


Marching bands

and...

Leggy blondes.


Not to mention marching bands with leggy blondes.

On Culture, or the lack thereof

Going to a small college in the middle of nowhere certainly has its benefits. Having to drive at least twenty miles in either direction to find anything slightly resembling culture is not one of them. So what are a bunch of bored out of their minds college students to do on a Friday night? Organize and hold a Womanless Beauty Pageant! An hour of guys in dresses prancing around to the utter delight (and sheer horror) of their classmates. How can you go wrong with that?

The Countdown Begins

This week was early registration. The happy, oh so happy time in which all the students wake themselves at the unholiest of all hours in the hope that maybe, just maybe, they will get the good classes. Me dragging my unhappy ass out of bed at 8 AM on my only morning off certainly did pay off. I managed to get one of the last available spots in the digital photography class. Woo hoo, I will soon be able to take neat little artsy pictures of my very own. I will no longer have to rely on stealing pictures from my friends' Facebook and Myspace pages.

When I was signing up for classes, I had a nice conversation with my advisor about graduation. I have just two semesters left, after I finish up with this one. Next semester will be spent interning at the Thomas Wolfe house, and my last will be spent preparing my senior thesis. Good thing I already have a general idea of what it will be on. Immigration, or perhaps ethnic communities in the Queen City. Good Lord it better not change. I don't have time to be fickle any more. I have a Plan. A few months ago I used to think that my Plan involved sticking around for that extra semester, taking a bunch of electives, hanging out with my friends, and all that jazz, but now I don't see the point in it. Sure, I'd love to have some more time with my friends, who wouldn't? However, I chose to attend a private school that was affordable when I first enrolled, but is no longer affordable thanks to ridiculous tuition hikes. Now all I want to do is graduate, get into State's Public History program, and then find the best, highest paying job available to me so I can start paying off all this money that I owe.

Loneliness?

As of today, I have 0 profile views. Lets see how long I can keep it up. Having a blog that no one reads or even visits isn't such a bad thing though. For one, I don't have to worry about people I know (as well as people I don't) commenting on every little thing I write, which happened when I was a member of Xanga back in my lovely high school days. That brings me to my next point. I can talk about whatever I want, especially communication issues with the Mom, without people I know (or again, people that I don't know) reading about it and thinking I'm a horrible person. And now for my final point: I am a terrible writer and if I tried to write about anything that actually matters (i.e politics and such), I would, without a doubt, sound like an idiot. Therefore, having an unread blog will allow me to write about things that like that that interest me, if I so choose, and sound like an idiot while doing so, again if I so choose, without anyone ever knowing about it. Ha.


On a different note, I decided, for whatever reason, to get breakfast at the Waffle House this morning. Actually, it wasn't for "whatever reason." They're the only restaurant open here on the weekends that serves breakfast. I could have gone to the cafeteria, but I'm already sick. The point is, their manager is so desperate for employees that she nearly hired me on the spot. And I am so desperate for money that I nearly took the job. But alas, I have, in my quest to Graduate Early, maxed out on credit hours.

I never thought I would say this...

...but it is good to be back. After being at home for the first time in two months, I realized why exactly I waited that long to go home. Since I am no longer a teenager, I should probably have a better relationship with my parents. But I don't. Maybe getting through one conversation with my mother without getting a headache or getting snippy is something that will take a few more years.

I'm new here

Yep, so the title pretty much says it all. A real post to follow...