You got a problem with that, honey?

Ok, so I'm sitting here, waiting on it to start snowing. The weather people have been saying its going to snow today all week, and yet there isn't one snowflake in sight. Hell, there isn't even a cloud in sight.

Earlier this week, I was having lunch with Nicole, who is just about the sweetest girl on the planet. She's one of the few people that I've really opened up to about my desire to convert, but that's a different story for a different day. Nicole, like me, had the good fortune to be born in North Carolina. However, her life began several hundred miles west of mine. To hear me talk, it isn't immediately apparent that I'm an NC native. With Nicole, it's unmistakable. I often find myself wishing that I hadn't been brought up in a big, diverse city, and that I don't feel the need to hide my accent when I'm back home, especially at work. But that too is a different story for a different day.

The other day at lunch, Nicole and I were approached by this guy that wanted to know if the table next to us was taken. Nicole politely replied that "Yes, that table is taken, sorry." The guy, apparently unable to understand Appalachian English, made Nicole repeat herself several times before stalking off. Damn Yankee.

Now, I'm not going to turn this into an anti-Yankee rant. First of all, there's no point, and second of all, I don't want to alienate one-third of my readership. But the whole Southern stereotype thing is getting pretty fucking old. To hear some of my classmates/coworkers (who thought I was from Washington State for whatever reason)/customers talk, we Southerners are nothing but a bunch of ignorant, Jesus lovin', beer drinkin', snuff dippin' rednecks, and that there is nothing to do in the South but go to county fairs. Let me point out that I will (hopefully) have two masters degrees five years from now, I am on my way to becoming a JBC, I hate (most) beer and the only tobacco product I've ever tried was a cigarette, and that was just stupid. And for the there's nothing to do part, those people obviously haven't visited downtown Asheville, any part of Atlanta, or Charleston.

My sister-in-law's mom, a Carolina girl if ever I met one, moved up to BFE, Michigan a few years ago with her husband. Upon arrival, she was asked "Don't you just love it up here? This place is really thriving!" My sister-in-law's mom then replied "I'm from Charlotte. It's one of the biggest banking centers in the country. That's thriving. You people don't even have a movie theater."

Maybe, being from Charlotte, I'm not really qualified to talk about stuff like this. Still, it's something I felt like addressing.

Mall Restrooms... boy don't I feel safe now...

*I don't normally post forwarded emails on my blog or even bother forwarding them on to people in my address book, but this seemed creepy enough. Hat tip: Sonja*

Please Send to Every Female You Know With Love for Their Safety!!!!!

The Latest Scam: Robbing Females Using the Bathrooms at Shopping Malls.

The way the scam works is, a man slips into the women's rest-room and sneaks into a stall. He waits until there is only one woman in the restroom in a neighboring stall. The criminal then stands on the toilet and points a hand gun into the next stall, demanding the woman's valuables. After getting her cash and jewelry, he demands that she remove all of her clothing and kick them out of the stall. The thief tosses the clothing into a shopping bag, hangs an out of order sign on the restroom door, and slips back into the mall. The out of order sign ensures no one will soon come to the woman's rescue. It usually takes an hour or two for the woman to work up the nerve to leave the restroom in the nude, giving the criminal ample time to make his get away. The woman is left naked and humiliated in a mall full of strangers. The best defense, says police, is to never go into a shopping mall restroom alone, as only women who are by themselves are targeted.

PLEASE FORWARD THIS TO EVERYONE YOU KNOW!!!! This has so far been a nearly perfect crime, as none of the perpetrators have been caught. Don't let this happen to you!

Take that you woman hater*!

I'm one day into my internship at the Thomas Wolfe house and I'm already sick of it. Why does it have to be so boring? If only it wouldn't help my chances of getting into State.

Oh yeah, wearing a mid-calf length skirt in the snow wasn't the best idea either.

*The woman hater in question is Wolfe. Even if he did have an affair with a married one.

Random ramblings

I can't stand the classrooms in the education building. They almost seem like classrooms that a real college would have.

My NC Gov't/History teacher is the best NC Gov't/History class teacher to ever come out of Pennsylvania.

AK finally had her first real drink, ever. My baby's all grown up!

My new suitemate has a penchant for rearranging the furniture in her room at least one a day. While blaring Fall Out Boy.

I could convert by this December. Emotionally, however, I don't think I'll be ready. That doesn't mean I haven't emotionally matured a ton over the last few months.

Tuesday Night Blues

Less than one week before I get out of this overpriced, overdeveloped hellhole of a city and back to my real life. Studying geography, Japanese history and leading tour groups through the Thomas Wolfe house will be infinitely more exciting than selling Coach and Dooney & Bourke handbags to spoiled teenagers. If only Look Homeward Angel wasn't so hellishly boring. Was Wolfe really that brilliant? Who knows? He did, however, have the good fortune to be born in Asheville.

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.