Sorry for the lack of updates. I’ve been working on another writing project. Oh, and I’ve been employment testing.
I guess that’s a good thing?
I’ve got some big decisions to make about the future of this blog. No, I’m not stopping. I may just be moving pages… again. It’s tied to the above mentioned writing project.
I’d like to keep this separate but I’m not sure I can keep up with both.
I’ll let you know as soon as I make a decision.
Thanks!
Wednesday, November 12, 2008
Thursday, November 6, 2008
Changes…
Today is Chris and my fourth wedding anniversary.
In years past, we’ve planned a big trip around this time. In ’04 we went to Maui, ’05 we went to Oahu, ’06 we went to San Fran & Maui, and ’07 we went to Napa.
This year, we were supposed to be in New York but…
We canceled for obvious reasons.
Yeah, it’s a bit of a bummer but I can’t think of anyone I’d rather stay home with than Christopher.
Happy Anniversary Hon. You are the shoulder for my tears, the laughter in my sorrow, and the voice of reason when - as per usual - I'm not.
You are the man I’ve always wanted. You are the strength I’ve always needed.
And I can’t believe God played such a dirty trick on you and stuck you with me.
I love you.
In years past, we’ve planned a big trip around this time. In ’04 we went to Maui, ’05 we went to Oahu, ’06 we went to San Fran & Maui, and ’07 we went to Napa.
This year, we were supposed to be in New York but…
We canceled for obvious reasons.
Yeah, it’s a bit of a bummer but I can’t think of anyone I’d rather stay home with than Christopher.
Happy Anniversary Hon. You are the shoulder for my tears, the laughter in my sorrow, and the voice of reason when - as per usual - I'm not.
You are the man I’ve always wanted. You are the strength I’ve always needed.
And I can’t believe God played such a dirty trick on you and stuck you with me.
I love you.
Wednesday, November 5, 2008
It’s open season…
Thanks to my marvelous *ahem* not *ahem* position in foods at the 'big box' store, I am prohibited from wearing jewelry of any sort including my…
Wedding ring.
Talk about feeling naked.
Unfortunately, my lack of a wedding band signals the world to my ‘singleness’. And -
Either a.) I have become more significantly attractive since I married my sweetheart
Or
b.) Guys think my hair net, my plastic gloves, and my knee length apron are hot.
Maybe I have a way with words. For instance, perhaps some appreciate the way I say, ‘Would you like a churro for only a dollar more?’ or ‘Our foods are made with only the finest ingredients.’
Riiight. I’m with ya. The answer is:
c.) My city is full of desperate men.
But in other news – my self confidence is way up.
Well… as much as it can be. I do, after all, wear a hair net, plastic gloves, and an apron.
I received a letter today from a local city saying I had passed the testing requirements and would be the first to interview when a position came available and I couldn’t help but wonder…
When the heck did I apply for that job?
Ah. The fabulous life of the ‘kinda’ unemployed.
Wedding ring.
Talk about feeling naked.
Unfortunately, my lack of a wedding band signals the world to my ‘singleness’. And -
Either a.) I have become more significantly attractive since I married my sweetheart
Or
b.) Guys think my hair net, my plastic gloves, and my knee length apron are hot.
Maybe I have a way with words. For instance, perhaps some appreciate the way I say, ‘Would you like a churro for only a dollar more?’ or ‘Our foods are made with only the finest ingredients.’
Riiight. I’m with ya. The answer is:
c.) My city is full of desperate men.
But in other news – my self confidence is way up.
Well… as much as it can be. I do, after all, wear a hair net, plastic gloves, and an apron.
I received a letter today from a local city saying I had passed the testing requirements and would be the first to interview when a position came available and I couldn’t help but wonder…
When the heck did I apply for that job?
Ah. The fabulous life of the ‘kinda’ unemployed.
Friday, October 31, 2008
H-U-M-I-L-I-T-Y…
Last night was my first night working the new position… and my first time wearing a hair net…
And my first time seeing one of the guys I graduated high school with in ten years.
Yeah.
Fabulous.
Let me back up a few steps.
In high school, there was a guy that no one liked. He thought he was a total genius and felt we were all beneath him.
Sadly, he was a total genius and we were probably all beneath him.
I didn’t particularly get along with him because I don’t bond well with jerks… oh and he took great pride in being mean to my brothers. If there’s one thing you just don’t do to our family, its mess with one of us. It ticks off the other six siblings.
The guy and I fought like cats and dogs in high school and when we graduated I just knew I was going to do something with my life and he, with his crappy attitude, would fail.
I heard over the years that he got married, popped out a few kidlets, and was very successful in the field of physics and sciences.
Crap.
Needless to say, I had no desire – especially in light of my current situation – to see the guy. But of course, with my recent luck, the guy came to the ‘Big Box’ store last night.
Nothing says ‘I’ve gone places since high school’ like a hair net and a “Would you like sauerkraut with your hot dog?”
Sooo… I did a very mature thing - I smiled and wished him well in his future endeavors.
Right.
And I’ve got a dark tan and skin void of freckles.
So what really happened?
I pulled my hat down, flipped over my name tag, and went on a bathroom break.
I’m all about being humble and recognizing the value in working to pay bills but geez…
I’ve got standards.
And my first time seeing one of the guys I graduated high school with in ten years.
Yeah.
Fabulous.
Let me back up a few steps.
In high school, there was a guy that no one liked. He thought he was a total genius and felt we were all beneath him.
Sadly, he was a total genius and we were probably all beneath him.
I didn’t particularly get along with him because I don’t bond well with jerks… oh and he took great pride in being mean to my brothers. If there’s one thing you just don’t do to our family, its mess with one of us. It ticks off the other six siblings.
The guy and I fought like cats and dogs in high school and when we graduated I just knew I was going to do something with my life and he, with his crappy attitude, would fail.
I heard over the years that he got married, popped out a few kidlets, and was very successful in the field of physics and sciences.
Crap.
Needless to say, I had no desire – especially in light of my current situation – to see the guy. But of course, with my recent luck, the guy came to the ‘Big Box’ store last night.
Nothing says ‘I’ve gone places since high school’ like a hair net and a “Would you like sauerkraut with your hot dog?”
Sooo… I did a very mature thing - I smiled and wished him well in his future endeavors.
Right.
And I’ve got a dark tan and skin void of freckles.
So what really happened?
I pulled my hat down, flipped over my name tag, and went on a bathroom break.
I’m all about being humble and recognizing the value in working to pay bills but geez…
I’ve got standards.
Wednesday, October 29, 2008
Just when you think no one is looking…
Someone is.
The ‘Big Box’ store has decided to cut hours and lay off most of the temporary/seasonal employees. Since I’m a newbie/temporary/seasonal employee, my number was up first
Just what I need right?
BUT…
Someone noticed my work ethic.
That ‘someone’ was a store manager. In an effort to save me from a layoff, she transferred me to another department and rather than cut my hours… she gave me a full time plus overtime 6 day shift.
I guess mom and dad were right when they said… Work like someone is always watching.
Well… it was either my work ethic or… maybe the manager was tired of me drawing crowds at the cart corral?
It’s a total bummer because I just mastered my running/cartwheel/back flip routine.
Take that Mary Lou Retton.
They are transferring me to foods. So… uh… if you find a hair in your bread…
It TOTALLY wasn’t me.
…Even if it’s red… and even if I’m the only redhead in the whole department….
It still wasn’t me.
Oh, and I have an interview with the transit peeps on Monday. I was excited… until they told me how many applications they received and how many people they are interviewing. Let’s just say…
My odds aren’t good…
Unless of course…
They’ve seen my cart routine. If so, the job is in the bag.
The ‘Big Box’ store has decided to cut hours and lay off most of the temporary/seasonal employees. Since I’m a newbie/temporary/seasonal employee, my number was up first
Just what I need right?
BUT…
Someone noticed my work ethic.
That ‘someone’ was a store manager. In an effort to save me from a layoff, she transferred me to another department and rather than cut my hours… she gave me a full time plus overtime 6 day shift.
I guess mom and dad were right when they said… Work like someone is always watching.
Well… it was either my work ethic or… maybe the manager was tired of me drawing crowds at the cart corral?
It’s a total bummer because I just mastered my running/cartwheel/back flip routine.
Take that Mary Lou Retton.
They are transferring me to foods. So… uh… if you find a hair in your bread…
It TOTALLY wasn’t me.
…Even if it’s red… and even if I’m the only redhead in the whole department….
It still wasn’t me.
Oh, and I have an interview with the transit peeps on Monday. I was excited… until they told me how many applications they received and how many people they are interviewing. Let’s just say…
My odds aren’t good…
Unless of course…
They’ve seen my cart routine. If so, the job is in the bag.
Tuesday, October 28, 2008
Is it getting hot?
Theoretically, I’m not a huge fan of my job at the ‘Big Box’ store.
I won’t go into the details – lest I look completely ungrateful for a paying job.
But let’s just say, in theory of course, that it’s not exactly my favorite job ever.
Anyway, they asked for volunteers to work six day work weeks over the next two months for the holiday rush.
A silence fell in the break room.
No one volunteered.
So…
I did.
It’s as if I just complained to the devil that hell wasn’t hot enough and asked him to turn up the flames.
I won’t go into the details – lest I look completely ungrateful for a paying job.
But let’s just say, in theory of course, that it’s not exactly my favorite job ever.
Anyway, they asked for volunteers to work six day work weeks over the next two months for the holiday rush.
A silence fell in the break room.
No one volunteered.
So…
I did.
It’s as if I just complained to the devil that hell wasn’t hot enough and asked him to turn up the flames.
Monday, October 27, 2008
I know! It’s been a while…
But I’ve been working two jobs and job hunting at the same time. Plus I’ve been working on something writing related… I hope to be able to share the news but as per my rule, I’ll share only if the news is good.
Fingers crossed.
Anyway…
The Monday interview went as well as it could despite the circumstances. What are the circumstances?
Um…
They offered me a job 5 months ago and I turned them down.
That tends to leave a lasting impression… and not a good one.
I did learn a few things:
1 – I don’t turn into a tomato anymore.
Kind of a bummer. That was my ‘thing’.
2 – I still sweat.
Ugh. That’s nasty. I’d rather that NOT be my ‘thing’.
3 – I should probably have avoided using the words… ‘I’m obsessed with your company’
What?
It’s true. I love them. I just… maybe shouldn’t have told them how much.
I had another interview Friday… but I’ll have to talk about that later. I’m still a little hot under the collar about it.
We’re still paying bills timely so of course…
I’m smiling today.
Fingers crossed.
Anyway…
The Monday interview went as well as it could despite the circumstances. What are the circumstances?
Um…
They offered me a job 5 months ago and I turned them down.
That tends to leave a lasting impression… and not a good one.
I did learn a few things:
1 – I don’t turn into a tomato anymore.
Kind of a bummer. That was my ‘thing’.
2 – I still sweat.
Ugh. That’s nasty. I’d rather that NOT be my ‘thing’.
3 – I should probably have avoided using the words… ‘I’m obsessed with your company’
What?
It’s true. I love them. I just… maybe shouldn’t have told them how much.
I had another interview Friday… but I’ll have to talk about that later. I’m still a little hot under the collar about it.
We’re still paying bills timely so of course…
I’m smiling today.
Monday, October 20, 2008
Say a little...
Prayer for me.
I've got an interview today.
Those pants I shrunk... fit like a dream today.
Thank you cardio cart workout.
I've got an interview today.
Those pants I shrunk... fit like a dream today.
Thank you cardio cart workout.
Thursday, October 16, 2008
A brand new scale…
Chris is still working his day job and has worked for a few friends on the weekends and I’m getting some money from Big Box Store and my ‘modeling’ gig. We’re still able to clear our bills but money for non necessities like… food… is still tough to come by.
I bought a half dozen eggs for a few dinner recipes – ramen and rice inspired of course – and tried to save a few precious eggs for a little life luxury… chocolate cake.
I excitedly pulled down the dusty box of cake mix, ripped open the bag, and reviewed the recipe.
Oil - ½ cup. Check.
Water - 1 cup. Check.
Eggs - three. Che…
I opened the egg carton to discover only two eggs left. Someone had eaten my eggs. Based on my crummy week, I nearly folded into tears.
I stared at the mix in the bowl and decided…
Hold on. Before I tell you my decision, let me explain. I believe there is a scale.
Not Ghetto ----------------------------------------------------------------Ghetto
I have NEVER been on the ghetto side but…
Now I’m camping there.
I decided to take out a third of the cake mix, a third of the water, a third of the oil, plop in the two eggs…
And eat the remaining dry cake mix with a spoon while my ghetto cake was cooking.
The cake was ghetto fabulous by the way.
I bought a half dozen eggs for a few dinner recipes – ramen and rice inspired of course – and tried to save a few precious eggs for a little life luxury… chocolate cake.
I excitedly pulled down the dusty box of cake mix, ripped open the bag, and reviewed the recipe.
Oil - ½ cup. Check.
Water - 1 cup. Check.
Eggs - three. Che…
I opened the egg carton to discover only two eggs left. Someone had eaten my eggs. Based on my crummy week, I nearly folded into tears.
I stared at the mix in the bowl and decided…
Hold on. Before I tell you my decision, let me explain. I believe there is a scale.
Not Ghetto ----------------------------------------------------------------Ghetto
I have NEVER been on the ghetto side but…
Now I’m camping there.
I decided to take out a third of the cake mix, a third of the water, a third of the oil, plop in the two eggs…
And eat the remaining dry cake mix with a spoon while my ghetto cake was cooking.
The cake was ghetto fabulous by the way.
Wednesday, October 15, 2008
Jumping in with both feet…
I’ve been working a lot for the big box store and I have the scars to prove it. My hands look like they’ve been through a meat grinder and my arms are sporting some super cool bruises.
Nope. I’m not looking for sympathy.
I love battle scars. They make me look rough and tough… in my pink work shirt.
I’m doing well at my job. I’m pushing to be the best employee Big Box Store has. Because of my quality work, I’ve been given the following recognitions:
1 – I am the fastest cart corraler.
Truth: Because of my small size, I don’t have the weight ratio needed to push 10 shopping carts. I have to get a running start to build momentum and slam myself into the cart stack to get it moving. In order to keep it moving… I have to keep running. In order to get the stack to turn into the corral, I have to sprint.
Yes, I look as ridiculous as it sounds.
I had a couple customers cheer, applaud, and laugh at my efforts.
And no, I haven’t needed to stop the stack yet. Most people move when they seen carts rushing toward them at 25 miles an hour. And… I’m not sure I’m capable of stopping anyway.
2 – I am the fastest refrigerator and freezer organizer.
Truth: Take me from pushing carts in the hot sun, throw me in the freezer, and yeah… I’m going to set records.
And yes, sweaty shirts can freeze to your back.
I’m going to cancel my gym membership.
8 hours a day of cardio cart pushing and shivering is plenty for me.
But hey, maybe now I can fit into those pants I shrunk.
On the day job front – I’m suddenly miss popularity.
OK, so maybe three calls for interviews in 24 hours isn’t exactly mind blowing, but I’m happy someone thinks I’m worth a second look.
I’ll make sure to add my new skills to my resume:
1 – Cart corraler
2 – Freezer Organizer
And
3 – I’ve obtained… ‘Street Cred’.
I’ve got Big Box gang scars homies.
Nope. I’m not looking for sympathy.
I love battle scars. They make me look rough and tough… in my pink work shirt.
I’m doing well at my job. I’m pushing to be the best employee Big Box Store has. Because of my quality work, I’ve been given the following recognitions:
1 – I am the fastest cart corraler.
Truth: Because of my small size, I don’t have the weight ratio needed to push 10 shopping carts. I have to get a running start to build momentum and slam myself into the cart stack to get it moving. In order to keep it moving… I have to keep running. In order to get the stack to turn into the corral, I have to sprint.
Yes, I look as ridiculous as it sounds.
I had a couple customers cheer, applaud, and laugh at my efforts.
And no, I haven’t needed to stop the stack yet. Most people move when they seen carts rushing toward them at 25 miles an hour. And… I’m not sure I’m capable of stopping anyway.
2 – I am the fastest refrigerator and freezer organizer.
Truth: Take me from pushing carts in the hot sun, throw me in the freezer, and yeah… I’m going to set records.
And yes, sweaty shirts can freeze to your back.
I’m going to cancel my gym membership.
8 hours a day of cardio cart pushing and shivering is plenty for me.
But hey, maybe now I can fit into those pants I shrunk.
On the day job front – I’m suddenly miss popularity.
OK, so maybe three calls for interviews in 24 hours isn’t exactly mind blowing, but I’m happy someone thinks I’m worth a second look.
I’ll make sure to add my new skills to my resume:
1 – Cart corraler
2 – Freezer Organizer
And
3 – I’ve obtained… ‘Street Cred’.
I’ve got Big Box gang scars homies.
Tuesday, October 7, 2008
Just stand right…. there. Yes. Behind the shrubs.
My weekend was a little… rough.
I worked at the car show and picked up three things: 1 – a cold, 2 – a reminder of why I hate customer service, and 3 – a desire for silicone implants.
Stop looking at me like that. Let me explain.
First, I picked up a nasty bug from a fellow employee. Now I have to cough, sneeze, and hack through all my interviews… oh wait. I don’t have any. Whatever. I still hate being sick.
Second, I was chewed out by a 70 year old salesman who told me, ‘You know nothing about life. You know nothing about supporting a family. You are a stupid kid’ because his customer didn’t buy a car and he felt I was responsible somehow. I wasn’t and couldn’t have possibly been.
But, umm, I’m not going to lie. The fact that he grouped me with the cute 20 something’s I was working with was flattering… so I let him run his garbage mouth for 10 uninterrupted minutes.
Third, after 2 hours of working with 3 gorgeous girls who I had at least 5 years and 5 pant sizes on, I was moved to work in a section behind a giant fichus.
Let’s not wonder why I am now holding 5 pamphlets from doctors who suck… heh heh, literally… and also install ‘plastic’.
I’m STILL looking for a job.
It’s funny how my job hunting views have changed…
Week One: Applied only at jobs I would be excited to have
Week Two: Applied only at jobs I would like to have
Week Three: Applied at jobs I could stand
Week Four: Applied at any job including circus elephant pooper scooper and *worse* customer service
I dropped off an application for another job. I carefully typed the application rather than handwriting it and dropped it off at the office this morning. The lady behind the desk stared at it then up at me, ‘How did you do this?’
‘I typed it. I wanted to make sure it was legible and easy to read.’ I replied.
She stared at me.
I smiled… and hoped the stare was admiration.
As I was walking out, I passed a kind mentally challenged man who was *ahem* applying for the job.
Great.
I am stooping to a new low… stealing jobs from the developmentally disabled.
What?!? Hey now. Desperate times call for desperate measures.
In better news, the ‘big box’ store hired me for nights and weekends.
I start Friday.
I hate being the new girl. Maybe I can dazzle my new co-workers with my wit and charm…
riiiight…
Or I can just use old reliable and…
Pay people to befriend me.
I worked at the car show and picked up three things: 1 – a cold, 2 – a reminder of why I hate customer service, and 3 – a desire for silicone implants.
Stop looking at me like that. Let me explain.
First, I picked up a nasty bug from a fellow employee. Now I have to cough, sneeze, and hack through all my interviews… oh wait. I don’t have any. Whatever. I still hate being sick.
Second, I was chewed out by a 70 year old salesman who told me, ‘You know nothing about life. You know nothing about supporting a family. You are a stupid kid’ because his customer didn’t buy a car and he felt I was responsible somehow. I wasn’t and couldn’t have possibly been.
But, umm, I’m not going to lie. The fact that he grouped me with the cute 20 something’s I was working with was flattering… so I let him run his garbage mouth for 10 uninterrupted minutes.
Third, after 2 hours of working with 3 gorgeous girls who I had at least 5 years and 5 pant sizes on, I was moved to work in a section behind a giant fichus.
Let’s not wonder why I am now holding 5 pamphlets from doctors who suck… heh heh, literally… and also install ‘plastic’.
I’m STILL looking for a job.
It’s funny how my job hunting views have changed…
Week One: Applied only at jobs I would be excited to have
Week Two: Applied only at jobs I would like to have
Week Three: Applied at jobs I could stand
Week Four: Applied at any job including circus elephant pooper scooper and *worse* customer service
I dropped off an application for another job. I carefully typed the application rather than handwriting it and dropped it off at the office this morning. The lady behind the desk stared at it then up at me, ‘How did you do this?’
‘I typed it. I wanted to make sure it was legible and easy to read.’ I replied.
She stared at me.
I smiled… and hoped the stare was admiration.
As I was walking out, I passed a kind mentally challenged man who was *ahem* applying for the job.
Great.
I am stooping to a new low… stealing jobs from the developmentally disabled.
What?!? Hey now. Desperate times call for desperate measures.
In better news, the ‘big box’ store hired me for nights and weekends.
I start Friday.
I hate being the new girl. Maybe I can dazzle my new co-workers with my wit and charm…
riiiight…
Or I can just use old reliable and…
Pay people to befriend me.
Friday, October 3, 2008
Dear George Bush…
Yesterday I had an appointment to get my teeth cleaned.
Hmm. Cleaning my teeth. Should take 20 – 30 minutes right?
Ha! You obviously don’t use my dentist.
Arrival time: 2:50PM
Departure time: 5:42PM
Sure I’m not employed and you’d think I had nothing better to do than sit and watch Judge Judy on my DVR but I actually USE my time looking for a job.
3 HOURS of which I lost yesterday to an ice cold waiting room filled with screaming children – and we all know how much I adore children… or not.
THEN, I received a letter from my attorney. I had to spend over 2 hours filling out their packet of information. What information? Every bit of information down to what grammar school I attended.
Who knows? It might be applicable. They may need to call some of my homies from first grade to ask if I favored the seesaw or the monkey bars.
Let’s see… lawsuit, dentist, unemployment.
Dear President Bush,
I have a new definition for the ‘Axis of Evil’.
Love,
Beks
Hmm. Cleaning my teeth. Should take 20 – 30 minutes right?
Ha! You obviously don’t use my dentist.
Arrival time: 2:50PM
Departure time: 5:42PM
Sure I’m not employed and you’d think I had nothing better to do than sit and watch Judge Judy on my DVR but I actually USE my time looking for a job.
3 HOURS of which I lost yesterday to an ice cold waiting room filled with screaming children – and we all know how much I adore children… or not.
THEN, I received a letter from my attorney. I had to spend over 2 hours filling out their packet of information. What information? Every bit of information down to what grammar school I attended.
Who knows? It might be applicable. They may need to call some of my homies from first grade to ask if I favored the seesaw or the monkey bars.
Let’s see… lawsuit, dentist, unemployment.
Dear President Bush,
I have a new definition for the ‘Axis of Evil’.
Love,
Beks
Thursday, October 2, 2008
Now you see me…
Now you don’t.
Apparently I’ve been cloaked with invisibility. THREE times while driving home last night, cars swerved into my lane as if I weren’t there.
Sadly, I can only blame myself.
These near death experiences were likely caused by my lack of a decent car wash. Long gone are the days of plopping down $25 for a wash and wax. It’s been…
Um…
5 months since my last wash. My car is sporting dirt and bird poop camouflage.
Sure I could wash it myself…
Just like I could go to the gym…or eat healthy…or shower more than once bi-weekly…But it’s not likely.
Also noted in the category of things invisible…
My resume.
I’m on application #122, cover letter #47, personal drop off #9, and call for an interview....
#0
Thinking my resume was the problem, I consulted my college career center and asked for assistance.
Suggested changes made to resume… 0
Minutes wasted in career center… 36.
I’ve applied everywhere from large corporations to… Jack in the Box.
Yeah.
Sure it was for the corporate office but I REALLY wanted to work there so I can tell my friends I work at Jack in the Box. I’d never mention my real paper pushing occupation. Instead, I’d suggest they drive thru and see me sometime.
For those concerned, we’re still getting by financially. Buuut… I have become one of ‘THOSE’ people at the grocery store. I went shopping with my couch cushion and ash tray money on Sunday. As soon as the total hit 40 bucks, I made the poor bag boy restock the items I couldn’t afford.
I thought I would be embarrassed but in these unsettling times, I just consider it doing my part for bag boy job security.
You’re welcome.
Apparently I’ve been cloaked with invisibility. THREE times while driving home last night, cars swerved into my lane as if I weren’t there.
Sadly, I can only blame myself.
These near death experiences were likely caused by my lack of a decent car wash. Long gone are the days of plopping down $25 for a wash and wax. It’s been…
Um…
5 months since my last wash. My car is sporting dirt and bird poop camouflage.
Sure I could wash it myself…
Just like I could go to the gym…or eat healthy…or shower more than once bi-weekly…But it’s not likely.
Also noted in the category of things invisible…
My resume.
I’m on application #122, cover letter #47, personal drop off #9, and call for an interview....
#0
Thinking my resume was the problem, I consulted my college career center and asked for assistance.
Suggested changes made to resume… 0
Minutes wasted in career center… 36.
I’ve applied everywhere from large corporations to… Jack in the Box.
Yeah.
Sure it was for the corporate office but I REALLY wanted to work there so I can tell my friends I work at Jack in the Box. I’d never mention my real paper pushing occupation. Instead, I’d suggest they drive thru and see me sometime.
For those concerned, we’re still getting by financially. Buuut… I have become one of ‘THOSE’ people at the grocery store. I went shopping with my couch cushion and ash tray money on Sunday. As soon as the total hit 40 bucks, I made the poor bag boy restock the items I couldn’t afford.
I thought I would be embarrassed but in these unsettling times, I just consider it doing my part for bag boy job security.
You’re welcome.
Wednesday, October 1, 2008
Um. Yes I work out. Like. TOTALLY.
I had my night/weekend job interview this morning at the ‘Big Box’ store. I waited for 45 minutes in the waiting room for my interview.
Yeah.
Because making me wait for 45 minutes does wonders for my naturally overactive nerves.
I watched as interviewee after interviewee exited and left. When my turn came, I nervously stood, wiped the sweat off my palm, and shook the hand of my interviewer.
17 minutes and a concise interview later, she smiled at me and asked me to go back to the waiting room.
Go back?
No one else went back to the waiting room so I was confused.
Then she said, ‘We’d like you to have a second interview with the store manager.’
So I waited another 15 painful minutes then spent approximately 8 minutes with an annoyed store manager who clearly had better things to do than talk to me.
‘What do you do for fun?’ He asked as he wiped his glasses.
‘I go to school.’ I replied.
‘No. What do you do for FUN? F-U-N.’ He asked again annoyed as though I hadn’t listened.
‘I understood. I enjoy school and I attend for fun.’ I replied again.
He gave me a face that said, ‘Butt kisser’
‘Are you active? I’m asking this because this job is very involved and I need someone who can keep up.’ He said, still wiping his glasses.
‘Yes, I’m very active. I go to the gym and I am an avid cyclist.’ I replied matter of factly.
Hey, before you judge, I didn’t lie to my doctor about exercising so I still had an open liar card.
‘Fabulous. What is kind of bike do you have?’ He asked.
‘Um… uh…’ I am so retarded. An ‘avid’ cyclist would know what they ride. ‘I ride a Mongoose. Sorry. It’s new and I get confused.’ I stumbled.
He threw me another ‘yeah right’ face.
I suck at lying.
‘Can you take a drug and alcohol test right now?’ He asked, finally looking at me.
A look of terror crossed my face.
‘Y-y-y-yes. A-a-a-absolutely.’ I replied timidly.
HEY! I said NO judging! No, I’ve never done drugs in my life buuuuuuut…. I may have had a glass of wine last night.
He sent me to the waiting room again to wait for the drug/alcohol test lady.
A fellow interviewee leaned over and said, ‘Man, you must be doing something seriously wrong. They keep sending you back out here!’
I didn’t have the heart to tell her that was a good thing… especially since she was sent home after the first interview.
The drug test lady took me to her office, shoved a plastic tube into my gums to ‘get a saliva sample’, and asked me to go back to the waiting room again for 15 minutes until the results came back.
When I returned to the waiting room AGAIN, I was met by the snickers of my fellow interviewees.
Thanks guys.
Those were the LONGEST 15 minutes ever! I swore they were going to find those 6 ounces of Gewürztraminer coursing through my veins... er... or my saliva for that matter.
Fortunately the lady came out and certified me drug and alcohol free then sent me home.
They are currently performing a reference check.
Hmm. Now probably would have been a good time to have reliable references.
Oops.
Yeah.
Because making me wait for 45 minutes does wonders for my naturally overactive nerves.
I watched as interviewee after interviewee exited and left. When my turn came, I nervously stood, wiped the sweat off my palm, and shook the hand of my interviewer.
17 minutes and a concise interview later, she smiled at me and asked me to go back to the waiting room.
Go back?
No one else went back to the waiting room so I was confused.
Then she said, ‘We’d like you to have a second interview with the store manager.’
So I waited another 15 painful minutes then spent approximately 8 minutes with an annoyed store manager who clearly had better things to do than talk to me.
‘What do you do for fun?’ He asked as he wiped his glasses.
‘I go to school.’ I replied.
‘No. What do you do for FUN? F-U-N.’ He asked again annoyed as though I hadn’t listened.
‘I understood. I enjoy school and I attend for fun.’ I replied again.
He gave me a face that said, ‘Butt kisser’
‘Are you active? I’m asking this because this job is very involved and I need someone who can keep up.’ He said, still wiping his glasses.
‘Yes, I’m very active. I go to the gym and I am an avid cyclist.’ I replied matter of factly.
Hey, before you judge, I didn’t lie to my doctor about exercising so I still had an open liar card.
‘Fabulous. What is kind of bike do you have?’ He asked.
‘Um… uh…’ I am so retarded. An ‘avid’ cyclist would know what they ride. ‘I ride a Mongoose. Sorry. It’s new and I get confused.’ I stumbled.
He threw me another ‘yeah right’ face.
I suck at lying.
‘Can you take a drug and alcohol test right now?’ He asked, finally looking at me.
A look of terror crossed my face.
‘Y-y-y-yes. A-a-a-absolutely.’ I replied timidly.
HEY! I said NO judging! No, I’ve never done drugs in my life buuuuuuut…. I may have had a glass of wine last night.
He sent me to the waiting room again to wait for the drug/alcohol test lady.
A fellow interviewee leaned over and said, ‘Man, you must be doing something seriously wrong. They keep sending you back out here!’
I didn’t have the heart to tell her that was a good thing… especially since she was sent home after the first interview.
The drug test lady took me to her office, shoved a plastic tube into my gums to ‘get a saliva sample’, and asked me to go back to the waiting room again for 15 minutes until the results came back.
When I returned to the waiting room AGAIN, I was met by the snickers of my fellow interviewees.
Thanks guys.
Those were the LONGEST 15 minutes ever! I swore they were going to find those 6 ounces of Gewürztraminer coursing through my veins... er... or my saliva for that matter.
Fortunately the lady came out and certified me drug and alcohol free then sent me home.
They are currently performing a reference check.
Hmm. Now probably would have been a good time to have reliable references.
Oops.
Wednesday, September 24, 2008
Let me tell you something about the modeling industry…
I’ve been a little desperate on the job front. 210,000 San Diegans were laid off last Monday when three large companies closed on the same day.
In one word, the market is…
Saturated.
I’ve applied at nearly 100 different businesses and I’ve handed my number out to every Tom, Dick, and Harry who remotely looks like they work in HR – or even walks by HR – or knows a guy, who knows a guy, who knows a guy, who walks by HR.
At the sound of my ringing cell phone, I run faster than an Olympic gold medalist sprinter. Alas, the only call I’ve received is from the Target recorded pharmacy notifying me that my prescription has been filled.
Thanks.
Could you add anti-anxiety meds to that order?
While looking for full time jobs, I’ve been looking to pick up some weekend work.
Lindsey was sweet enough to hook me up with a weekend gig for the first week in October. She informed me about a job as a greeter person at one of those car shows.
The hiring lady called and told me about the job then said, ‘We usually hire models to do this work but since times are a bit tough right now…’
I felt like finishing her sentence and saying, ‘…since times are a bit tough right now, we’re just looking to hire moderately attractive females. Actually, cancel that, we’re just looking to hire females… or attractive cross dressers.’
I fit in that category – the female part, not necessarily the moderately attractive part or the cross dresser part – and I’m excited about a little extra cash. Hello car payment!
I have an interview at one of those ‘big box’ stores next Wednesday for a night/weekend seasonal job. Perhaps I should add, ‘Super Hot Auto Model’ to my resume. Maybe that would help?
In one word, the market is…
Saturated.
I’ve applied at nearly 100 different businesses and I’ve handed my number out to every Tom, Dick, and Harry who remotely looks like they work in HR – or even walks by HR – or knows a guy, who knows a guy, who knows a guy, who walks by HR.
At the sound of my ringing cell phone, I run faster than an Olympic gold medalist sprinter. Alas, the only call I’ve received is from the Target recorded pharmacy notifying me that my prescription has been filled.
Thanks.
Could you add anti-anxiety meds to that order?
While looking for full time jobs, I’ve been looking to pick up some weekend work.
Lindsey was sweet enough to hook me up with a weekend gig for the first week in October. She informed me about a job as a greeter person at one of those car shows.
The hiring lady called and told me about the job then said, ‘We usually hire models to do this work but since times are a bit tough right now…’
I felt like finishing her sentence and saying, ‘…since times are a bit tough right now, we’re just looking to hire moderately attractive females. Actually, cancel that, we’re just looking to hire females… or attractive cross dressers.’
I fit in that category – the female part, not necessarily the moderately attractive part or the cross dresser part – and I’m excited about a little extra cash. Hello car payment!
I have an interview at one of those ‘big box’ stores next Wednesday for a night/weekend seasonal job. Perhaps I should add, ‘Super Hot Auto Model’ to my resume. Maybe that would help?
Friday, September 19, 2008
Uh…How long has this been in the freezer?
My recent lack of cash flow has made things on the home front a bit difficult. No, it’s not that we aren’t paying our bills, we (surprisingly) had a little emergency fund set up and can survive for like… at least 4 more days.
Come on, I live in So. Cal. The cost of living isn’t exactly cheap here.
The bills part isn’t the big problem, the FOOD part is.
Mortgage – paid by emergency fund
Electric bill – paid by emergency fund
Water bill – paid by emergency fund
Dinner for 2 at the Brigantine - Not considered an ‘emergency’ and not eligible for payment by emergency fund– or at least that’s what Chris keeps telling me.
So for the last week (and probably for a whole lot more weeks) I’ve had to *cough* *gasp* *cough* make dinner at home.
Who does this?!?!
Seriously.
We don’t have money to go grocery shopping so we’re living off what we have in the freezer and in the pantry. I’m pretty creative and somewhat functional in the kitchen yet even with those skills I have trouble creating a meal from maple syrup, top ramen, olive oil, Eggo waffles, and frost bitten French fries. I was completely overcome by excitement when I found a dusty box of brownie mix - until I read the directions and discovered the necessity of eggs.
Maybe I can substitute syrup?
Last night’s dinner creation was rubber chicken fingers and soggy frost bitten French fries. We didn’t have ranch dressing so I tried to use Blue Cheese and Tapitio hot sauce for dipping sauces. For future reference … don’t do this. It makes you gag. The three bites of Tuesday night’s olive oil coated Top Ramen noodles made my stomach turn.
Who knew the shrinking of my waistline would be directly proportionate to the shrinking of my wallet?
Tonight? A tiny 33 cent bean and cheese burrito and a $7 glass of wine.
What. It’s not like I sold my stash of wine.
And no, that’s not an option.
Come on, I live in So. Cal. The cost of living isn’t exactly cheap here.
The bills part isn’t the big problem, the FOOD part is.
Mortgage – paid by emergency fund
Electric bill – paid by emergency fund
Water bill – paid by emergency fund
Dinner for 2 at the Brigantine - Not considered an ‘emergency’ and not eligible for payment by emergency fund– or at least that’s what Chris keeps telling me.
So for the last week (and probably for a whole lot more weeks) I’ve had to *cough* *gasp* *cough* make dinner at home.
Who does this?!?!
Seriously.
We don’t have money to go grocery shopping so we’re living off what we have in the freezer and in the pantry. I’m pretty creative and somewhat functional in the kitchen yet even with those skills I have trouble creating a meal from maple syrup, top ramen, olive oil, Eggo waffles, and frost bitten French fries. I was completely overcome by excitement when I found a dusty box of brownie mix - until I read the directions and discovered the necessity of eggs.
Maybe I can substitute syrup?
Last night’s dinner creation was rubber chicken fingers and soggy frost bitten French fries. We didn’t have ranch dressing so I tried to use Blue Cheese and Tapitio hot sauce for dipping sauces. For future reference … don’t do this. It makes you gag. The three bites of Tuesday night’s olive oil coated Top Ramen noodles made my stomach turn.
Who knew the shrinking of my waistline would be directly proportionate to the shrinking of my wallet?
Tonight? A tiny 33 cent bean and cheese burrito and a $7 glass of wine.
What. It’s not like I sold my stash of wine.
And no, that’s not an option.
Tuesday, September 16, 2008
I wasted a good hair day for this?!?!?
My nose has been to the job hunting grindstone since Saturday’s news. I’ve sent out most applications to employers through their websites but there have been a select few that I deemed important enough for a personal drop off.
Yesterday I dressed to impress (hence the belt incident) and made my way to several companies I was interested in.
There is one job I’m absolutely dying to get with a government organization that offers fabulous benefits and most important… considers my birthday a holiday.
I pulled in to the freshly laid asphalt parking lot and was greeting by some of my favorite friends: BMW, Porsche, Lexus, and Mercedes. Based on the staff vehicles, I felt I was in the right place.
I straightened my crisp clean pink button up shirt and brushed off my business black slacks as I walked up to the behemoth building. I gave a last prayer for my resume package and opened the heavy glass front door.
As I walked inside, the click of my heels reverberated off the marble floors and the walls. The girl at the desk looked up and said…
‘Yeah?’
I smiled brightly (thank you Mexican dentists and Target whitening strips) and asked, ‘May I please speak with the Human Resources Manager?’
‘Is that an application?’ She asked, pointing to my beautiful royal blue curriculum vitae package.
‘Yes, I’m applying for…’
‘I’ll take it.’ She said as she tossed it on her desk.
‘May I please…’ I started again
‘We will contact you in three weeks if you qualify.’ She replied shortly and turned back to her solitaire game on the computer.
I stood stunned for a second but then smiled and thanked her for her time and walked out.
I felt like leaning back in the door and shouting, ‘CAN YOU AT LEAST TELL THE HR PERSON THAT I’M PRETTY?!?!? Because according to MTV, I only have 1 year and 8 months of vibrant skin left!’
Back to pounding the pavement…
Yesterday I dressed to impress (hence the belt incident) and made my way to several companies I was interested in.
There is one job I’m absolutely dying to get with a government organization that offers fabulous benefits and most important… considers my birthday a holiday.
I pulled in to the freshly laid asphalt parking lot and was greeting by some of my favorite friends: BMW, Porsche, Lexus, and Mercedes. Based on the staff vehicles, I felt I was in the right place.
I straightened my crisp clean pink button up shirt and brushed off my business black slacks as I walked up to the behemoth building. I gave a last prayer for my resume package and opened the heavy glass front door.
As I walked inside, the click of my heels reverberated off the marble floors and the walls. The girl at the desk looked up and said…
‘Yeah?’
I smiled brightly (thank you Mexican dentists and Target whitening strips) and asked, ‘May I please speak with the Human Resources Manager?’
‘Is that an application?’ She asked, pointing to my beautiful royal blue curriculum vitae package.
‘Yes, I’m applying for…’
‘I’ll take it.’ She said as she tossed it on her desk.
‘May I please…’ I started again
‘We will contact you in three weeks if you qualify.’ She replied shortly and turned back to her solitaire game on the computer.
I stood stunned for a second but then smiled and thanked her for her time and walked out.
I felt like leaning back in the door and shouting, ‘CAN YOU AT LEAST TELL THE HR PERSON THAT I’M PRETTY?!?!? Because according to MTV, I only have 1 year and 8 months of vibrant skin left!’
Back to pounding the pavement…
Monday, September 15, 2008
Whhhhhaaaat!?!?
I wouldn’t consider last week a personal best. The two stressful meetings, the notice of a lawsuit, the getting fired…
Oh wait, I didn’t mention that? Ooops. Silly me. I must have forgotten.
I guess when you yell at your boss and tell him where to shove it, he fires you.
OK, so that’s not what happened.
But telling the truth – everyone in the company was laid-off when the powers that be suddenly decided to cease operations on Saturday – is just so… so… so…
Boring.
You say poTAto, I say… oh I don’t know, something I made up.
On top of all this, I have yet to be served the lawsuit papers which is slightly depressing. How awesome would it have been to be served and laid off on the same day?!? Can you imagine the sympathy I could get? I could probably have opened up a ‘Feel bad for Bekah Fund, Donate Now’ at Bank of America. What a terrific bummer!
I have had some close calls. I dove into the rose bushes at the sight of our new mail woman who decidedly looks like a process server. I am also suffering from a severe case of rug burn thanks to my gold metal swan dive under the bed at the terror caused by a passing ice cream truck. Every time someone knocks on our door, I yelp and scream ‘REBEKAH DOESN’T LIVE HERE! SHE DIED FROM A FREAK ACCIDENT INVOLVING FALLING OUT OF A BED!!’
So seriously, now that we’re past the silliness of ‘I lost my job and got sued in the same week’, I have some REALLY terrible, awful, very bad news...
I dressed in my ‘professional’ slacks (since the job hunt starts today) – surprisingly I haven’t shrunk these yet – and couldn’t find my black belt. Late, and in desperate need for something to hold up my pants other than carefully woven Chihuahua hair, I scrambled to Chris’ side of the closet and grabbed his black dress belt. I figured that, even though it’s huge, I could make it work. I slid it on and…
…DEAR HOLY FATHER NO…
… it fit.
That’s when I looked heavenward and shouted, ‘Really God? This is SOOOOOO not funny.’
What’s next? Am I going to fit in his pants? His T-shirts? His OVERSIZED FOOTBALL JERSEYS?!?!?
Sure it’s not God’s fault that my butt is inflating faster than a safety vest in an ocean bound plane but geez, couldn’t I have a break?!?!
I was about to suffer from an emotional breakdown but then I called Chris who clarified, ‘That belt? I haven’t worn that since.. I don’t know… forever ago. It’s a 29 or something.’
I looked down at the belt which was perched across my hip bones (that’s how I roll, lowrider) and exhaled.
I grabbed a post it note and scrawled ‘I’m going to kill you for freaking me out’ and slapped it on the mirror for him to find when he got home.
He thinks it’s funny…
But I’m not joking.
Oh wait, I didn’t mention that? Ooops. Silly me. I must have forgotten.
I guess when you yell at your boss and tell him where to shove it, he fires you.
OK, so that’s not what happened.
But telling the truth – everyone in the company was laid-off when the powers that be suddenly decided to cease operations on Saturday – is just so… so… so…
Boring.
You say poTAto, I say… oh I don’t know, something I made up.
On top of all this, I have yet to be served the lawsuit papers which is slightly depressing. How awesome would it have been to be served and laid off on the same day?!? Can you imagine the sympathy I could get? I could probably have opened up a ‘Feel bad for Bekah Fund, Donate Now’ at Bank of America. What a terrific bummer!
I have had some close calls. I dove into the rose bushes at the sight of our new mail woman who decidedly looks like a process server. I am also suffering from a severe case of rug burn thanks to my gold metal swan dive under the bed at the terror caused by a passing ice cream truck. Every time someone knocks on our door, I yelp and scream ‘REBEKAH DOESN’T LIVE HERE! SHE DIED FROM A FREAK ACCIDENT INVOLVING FALLING OUT OF A BED!!’
So seriously, now that we’re past the silliness of ‘I lost my job and got sued in the same week’, I have some REALLY terrible, awful, very bad news...
I dressed in my ‘professional’ slacks (since the job hunt starts today) – surprisingly I haven’t shrunk these yet – and couldn’t find my black belt. Late, and in desperate need for something to hold up my pants other than carefully woven Chihuahua hair, I scrambled to Chris’ side of the closet and grabbed his black dress belt. I figured that, even though it’s huge, I could make it work. I slid it on and…
…DEAR HOLY FATHER NO…
… it fit.
That’s when I looked heavenward and shouted, ‘Really God? This is SOOOOOO not funny.’
What’s next? Am I going to fit in his pants? His T-shirts? His OVERSIZED FOOTBALL JERSEYS?!?!?
Sure it’s not God’s fault that my butt is inflating faster than a safety vest in an ocean bound plane but geez, couldn’t I have a break?!?!
I was about to suffer from an emotional breakdown but then I called Chris who clarified, ‘That belt? I haven’t worn that since.. I don’t know… forever ago. It’s a 29 or something.’
I looked down at the belt which was perched across my hip bones (that’s how I roll, lowrider) and exhaled.
I grabbed a post it note and scrawled ‘I’m going to kill you for freaking me out’ and slapped it on the mirror for him to find when he got home.
He thinks it’s funny…
But I’m not joking.
Thursday, September 11, 2008
Those wash instructions are there for a reason???
We had a fairly important work meeting on Monday. I was scheduled to present a portion and I wasn’t exactly excited at the prospect of turning red, talking like Yoda, and sweating like a marathon runner.
In preparation, I laid out my ‘proper’ business wear the night before and pulled out two pairs of shoes.
It was a rough debate about which pair of shoes to wear.
The first pair are low heeled, comfortable, and easy to walk in. They are muted and gently hide underneath my pant legs.
The second pair have heels that are no less than 5 inches, are completely uncomfortable, and when I walk… I look (and sound) like a trotting horse. They are so large, it looks like each of my feet are standing on life size re-creations of Pluto – which by the way, is what makes my legs look so thin.
Sooo, I can either a) look very professional and slightly heavier or b) look like I star in adult films, clomp like a horse, and look slightly thinner.
One word…
Neiggghhhh.
No one said looking thin is comfortable – or attractive – or unhorselike.
I woke up the next morning and dressed for the meeting… or at least attempted to dress for the meeting. Either I picked up a disturbing bout of bloating or…
I should have read those silly ‘care’ instructions on my pants.
Hmm. I guess they mean take it to a dry cleaner when the tag says, ‘Dry Clean Only’. I guess they didn’t want me to throw the pants in the washer and dry on high heat – and here I thought the clothing manufacturer and the dry cleaners were in cahoots.
Turns out…
They aren’t.
My pants were so tight, I looked like Denise Richards on the movie posters of ‘Undercover Brother’ …plus or minus 30 or so pounds… mostly plus… OK… only plus.
Thank heavens for shea butter lotion, body shapers, and a belly not yet misshapen by child bearing.
The meeting went fairly well. I only forgot 3 of the 4 sections of information I was supposed to cover. That’s like… a personal record.
Our goal was to make a significant impression on the folks from the Ireland and London offices. I really think my shoes and pants made an impression.
Hey! It’s not my fault no one clarified what TYPE of impression.
In preparation, I laid out my ‘proper’ business wear the night before and pulled out two pairs of shoes.
It was a rough debate about which pair of shoes to wear.
The first pair are low heeled, comfortable, and easy to walk in. They are muted and gently hide underneath my pant legs.
The second pair have heels that are no less than 5 inches, are completely uncomfortable, and when I walk… I look (and sound) like a trotting horse. They are so large, it looks like each of my feet are standing on life size re-creations of Pluto – which by the way, is what makes my legs look so thin.
Sooo, I can either a) look very professional and slightly heavier or b) look like I star in adult films, clomp like a horse, and look slightly thinner.
One word…
Neiggghhhh.
No one said looking thin is comfortable – or attractive – or unhorselike.
I woke up the next morning and dressed for the meeting… or at least attempted to dress for the meeting. Either I picked up a disturbing bout of bloating or…
I should have read those silly ‘care’ instructions on my pants.
Hmm. I guess they mean take it to a dry cleaner when the tag says, ‘Dry Clean Only’. I guess they didn’t want me to throw the pants in the washer and dry on high heat – and here I thought the clothing manufacturer and the dry cleaners were in cahoots.
Turns out…
They aren’t.
My pants were so tight, I looked like Denise Richards on the movie posters of ‘Undercover Brother’ …plus or minus 30 or so pounds… mostly plus… OK… only plus.
Thank heavens for shea butter lotion, body shapers, and a belly not yet misshapen by child bearing.
The meeting went fairly well. I only forgot 3 of the 4 sections of information I was supposed to cover. That’s like… a personal record.
Our goal was to make a significant impression on the folks from the Ireland and London offices. I really think my shoes and pants made an impression.
Hey! It’s not my fault no one clarified what TYPE of impression.
I’m starring in Mission Impossible 4!
So it hasn’t exactly been my week. I was busy all last week and halfway through this week preparing for meetings and presentations – more on that next time.
I kept thinking, ‘I just have to get through Wednesday, I just have to get through Wednesday.’
After Wednesday’s meeting, I breathed a significant sigh of relief… then I made the horrible mistake of checking my phone messages…
‘Hi Rebekah, it’s Michael, the claims adjuster on your homeowner policy, I have some bad news…
I’ve been negotiating with the young man who fell on the street in front of your home and have been unable to make any headway. His attorney has decided to file a legal action against you. Could you please give me a call immediately after you’ve been served with the court papers?’
Great.
For a brief history on ‘The Great Fall’ read here
I’m terrified at the thought of being served. I know my insurance guy said not to avoid service but I’ve been running to and from my car everywhere. Seriously, Tom Cruise in Mission Impossible has NOTHING on my running and ducking capabilities.
If you’ve ever been served with court papers before – uh, hate to admit this but… this isn’t my first time – you know it’s a really, really awful experience. Wait. That doesn’t sound good. But really… I was innocent!
Now I’m sounding like criminal. Maybe I’ll get a gang tattoo so I can survive a stint in the slammer.
Anyway, back to the service of court papers…
Here’s what happens:
The plaintiff’s lawyer hires an unemployed freak-show who’s desperate for money.
The freak-show camps in front of your house in his 1982 hatchback Hyundai, which of course, is solely held together by Bondo, duct tape, and 3 pieces of chewing gum.
When you arrive home after *gasp* actually working a real job, the freak-show runs up to you and screams ‘WHAT IS YOUR NAME!?!?!?’
When you don’t respond because *gasp again* you aren’t accustomed to people screaming at you, the freak-show throws the papers in your face (giving a deep paper cut to your cornea), takes photos of you, your car, and your home and runs away.
No. I’m not angry or prejudiced against process servers, why do you ask? ; )
I really hope the attorney decides to shell out the extra cash to use a police officer but I'm not holding my breath since I think I saw an ad for him in the Pennysaver advertising buy one get one free lawsuits. How sad that I’d rather have a person carrying a loaded firearm serve me than an shady unarmed guy driving a beater import.
I don’t want to work. I need a ‘mental health’ day.
I hate California.
I’m moving to Kansas...
or Sacramento.
Sunday, September 7, 2008
So it’s been a while…
Work is crazy.
School is crazy.
Probably won’t get a chance to update until Thursday.
Sorry!!
School is crazy.
Probably won’t get a chance to update until Thursday.
Sorry!!
Friday, August 29, 2008
Flashback Friday…
I’m flashing back to 'old yearbook photos' thanks to yearbookyourself.
I think it’s hilarious and you all need to do it.
I better see some photos!
I think it’s hilarious and you all need to do it.
I better see some photos!
Thursday, August 28, 2008
But officer, he’s not abusive… I’m clumsy!…and that's not a lie!
I’m afraid of a lot of things: Spiders, heights, people with knives, getting caught on a desert island with no sun block, the grocery store selling out of Clorox wipes…
But what I’m most afraid of at this moment are my friends.
How? Well…
I’m afraid they will turn Chris in to the authorities for spousal abuse.
Although he has never hit me, my stories of injuries seem so unbelievable that people are starting to look at Chris and wonder if maybe I’m lying and he’s a closet abuser.
I can just imagine the conversation with the investigating officer…
‘Mam, we’ve had several reports about your recent injuries. Do you mind if we have a short discussion?’
‘Sure’
‘Would you please explain what happened to your face? Where did that scar come from?’
‘I fell off my bed.’
‘How old are you?’
‘28’
‘Ooooook. I didn’t know grown adults fell out of bed.’ He’d say as he furiously scribbled on his report. ‘What happened to your arm?’
‘I thought I had somehow picked up a skin eating disease at the recycling center until a week ago when I went to Target and was reaching for some frozen foods on the top shelf. I’m short so I had to rest my arm on the frozen metal and noticed the matching pattern on my arm. I literally got waffle patterned frost bite while shopping for TV dinners – but hey, it’s better than a skin eating disease right?!?!’
‘You got a frost bite scar on your arm? I didn’t know that was possible.’ He’d say – totally doubting me.
‘It is. If you look closely, the darker part of the burn says “property of Target Stores”.’ I’d say while showing him my cool new scar.
‘I see you are walking with a limp. What happened to your foot?’
‘I ran it over with my office chair… while I was still in it.’
‘How did you do that?’
‘I actually don’t know. I’m hoping the nail won’t fall off.’ I’d say while showing him my toenail.
‘Where did the black and blue welt come from on the back of your leg?’ He’d say pointing to the 4” x 5” mark on my thigh.
‘I fell off the bed again.’ I’d say sheepishly.
‘Again?!?!’
‘Yeah, I was trying to jump over it but my legs are too short and I hit the footboard with my thigh. I crumpled like a cheap Dixie cup and fell to the floor – which is where this other bruise on my calf came from.’
‘Why is your thumb bandaged?’ He’d ask doubting me more and more.
‘I was cutting my cuticles while watching a particularly fascinating episode of Judge Judy and cut into my thumb after she screamed “You’re a liar!” to a plaintiff a little too loudly. I’m hoping that nail won’t fall off either.’ I’d say while rubbing my sore thumb.
‘Mam, could you please tell me the amount of time that passed between your first injury and your last one.’
‘Not counting the face incident…two weeks.’
That’s when they’d arrest Chris. All the while I’d have to scream, ‘BUT I’M CLUMSY!!’
On second thought, if an officer comes to my door, I’m just going to tell him I fell off my bike.
The truth just isn’t believable.
I’m wondering if I can sell my arm to Target for advertising space.
Oh, and on a side note…
I started another culinary class late night – CHOCOLATE CLASS.
I’ve already begun to save coupons for plus size apparel. I’m probably going to need them.
But what I’m most afraid of at this moment are my friends.
How? Well…
I’m afraid they will turn Chris in to the authorities for spousal abuse.
Although he has never hit me, my stories of injuries seem so unbelievable that people are starting to look at Chris and wonder if maybe I’m lying and he’s a closet abuser.
I can just imagine the conversation with the investigating officer…
‘Mam, we’ve had several reports about your recent injuries. Do you mind if we have a short discussion?’
‘Sure’
‘Would you please explain what happened to your face? Where did that scar come from?’
‘I fell off my bed.’
‘How old are you?’
‘28’
‘Ooooook. I didn’t know grown adults fell out of bed.’ He’d say as he furiously scribbled on his report. ‘What happened to your arm?’
‘I thought I had somehow picked up a skin eating disease at the recycling center until a week ago when I went to Target and was reaching for some frozen foods on the top shelf. I’m short so I had to rest my arm on the frozen metal and noticed the matching pattern on my arm. I literally got waffle patterned frost bite while shopping for TV dinners – but hey, it’s better than a skin eating disease right?!?!’
‘You got a frost bite scar on your arm? I didn’t know that was possible.’ He’d say – totally doubting me.
‘It is. If you look closely, the darker part of the burn says “property of Target Stores”.’ I’d say while showing him my cool new scar.
‘I see you are walking with a limp. What happened to your foot?’
‘I ran it over with my office chair… while I was still in it.’
‘How did you do that?’
‘I actually don’t know. I’m hoping the nail won’t fall off.’ I’d say while showing him my toenail.
‘Where did the black and blue welt come from on the back of your leg?’ He’d say pointing to the 4” x 5” mark on my thigh.
‘I fell off the bed again.’ I’d say sheepishly.
‘Again?!?!’
‘Yeah, I was trying to jump over it but my legs are too short and I hit the footboard with my thigh. I crumpled like a cheap Dixie cup and fell to the floor – which is where this other bruise on my calf came from.’
‘Why is your thumb bandaged?’ He’d ask doubting me more and more.
‘I was cutting my cuticles while watching a particularly fascinating episode of Judge Judy and cut into my thumb after she screamed “You’re a liar!” to a plaintiff a little too loudly. I’m hoping that nail won’t fall off either.’ I’d say while rubbing my sore thumb.
‘Mam, could you please tell me the amount of time that passed between your first injury and your last one.’
‘Not counting the face incident…two weeks.’
That’s when they’d arrest Chris. All the while I’d have to scream, ‘BUT I’M CLUMSY!!’
On second thought, if an officer comes to my door, I’m just going to tell him I fell off my bike.
The truth just isn’t believable.
I’m wondering if I can sell my arm to Target for advertising space.
Oh, and on a side note…
I started another culinary class late night – CHOCOLATE CLASS.
I’ve already begun to save coupons for plus size apparel. I’m probably going to need them.
Tuesday, August 26, 2008
I've never been a Star Wars fan but...
Perhaps yesterday wasn’t the best time for my first day back in school.
I came into work yesterday morning to discover my desk had been completely overrun by ants. I feigned utter confusion at their presence when asked by co-workers but… um... yeah… perhaps it’s because I eat two meals a day at my desk – plus snacks… and I snack a lot…despite what I tell my doctor.
The ants attacked my keyboard and continually popped up their heads when I typed. It was like I was playing a terrifically awful office version of Whack-A-Mole.
Needless to say, after 9 hours of dealing with a million of the 1/16” demons, I wasn’t exactly in the best of moods. THEN, I arrived on campus only to discover they had shut down the largest parking lot for ‘improvements’. Cars were swirling around looking for spaces like flies on a rotting carcass. What was previously a lot ribbed with open parking spaces was now a lot stuffed with maggots *cough* I mean cars (told you I was in a bad mood).
I circled for 15 minutes before I finally found a spot. It doesn’t seem long until you remember gas is 5 bucks a gallon and that 15 minutes translates to roughly $47.50.
I settled myself in class and sat in my usual chair furthest from the instructor. I failed to notice that this chair was also nearest to the classroom next door and a mere paper thin sheet of wood was the only thing that separated me from them. As soon as class began I realized I couldn’t hear my own instructor nearly as much as I could hear the lady loudly teaching French a few feet from my seat.
This wouldn’t be so bad if my concentration were more than that of an infant… and an infant monkey at that.
By the end of the semester I may not be any better at creative non-fiction writing but I will surely be able to give directions to the Louvre in perfect French.
The teacher had us complete info cards about ourselves and threatened to make us *cough* I mean, ‘asked’ us to share our info with the class. Unfortunately I learned I’ve picked up yet another nervous twitch in my public speaking abilities. When speaking in front of my peers – along with my already fabulous ability to turn bright red - my language patterns have started to closely resemble Yoda.
‘Rebekah. My name is.’
I think there are some Star Wars fans in the class because a few people seemed to actually understand what I was saying.
Going to be a great year this is.
Riiiiight.
I came into work yesterday morning to discover my desk had been completely overrun by ants. I feigned utter confusion at their presence when asked by co-workers but… um... yeah… perhaps it’s because I eat two meals a day at my desk – plus snacks… and I snack a lot…despite what I tell my doctor.
The ants attacked my keyboard and continually popped up their heads when I typed. It was like I was playing a terrifically awful office version of Whack-A-Mole.
Needless to say, after 9 hours of dealing with a million of the 1/16” demons, I wasn’t exactly in the best of moods. THEN, I arrived on campus only to discover they had shut down the largest parking lot for ‘improvements’. Cars were swirling around looking for spaces like flies on a rotting carcass. What was previously a lot ribbed with open parking spaces was now a lot stuffed with maggots *cough* I mean cars (told you I was in a bad mood).
I circled for 15 minutes before I finally found a spot. It doesn’t seem long until you remember gas is 5 bucks a gallon and that 15 minutes translates to roughly $47.50.
I settled myself in class and sat in my usual chair furthest from the instructor. I failed to notice that this chair was also nearest to the classroom next door and a mere paper thin sheet of wood was the only thing that separated me from them. As soon as class began I realized I couldn’t hear my own instructor nearly as much as I could hear the lady loudly teaching French a few feet from my seat.
This wouldn’t be so bad if my concentration were more than that of an infant… and an infant monkey at that.
By the end of the semester I may not be any better at creative non-fiction writing but I will surely be able to give directions to the Louvre in perfect French.
The teacher had us complete info cards about ourselves and threatened to make us *cough* I mean, ‘asked’ us to share our info with the class. Unfortunately I learned I’ve picked up yet another nervous twitch in my public speaking abilities. When speaking in front of my peers – along with my already fabulous ability to turn bright red - my language patterns have started to closely resemble Yoda.
‘Rebekah. My name is.’
I think there are some Star Wars fans in the class because a few people seemed to actually understand what I was saying.
Going to be a great year this is.
Riiiiight.
Friday, August 22, 2008
Lies, Lies, All Lies…
I had to see my doctor today for my annual exam. I hate the fact that, as a woman, I have to see my doctor once a year while my husband, being a man, hasn’t seen a doctor in about 10 years.
Do we have more moving parts or something?
All this week, in preparation for my doctor’s usual litany of questions, I was very careful about my actions.
She usually asks if I’ve been exercising…
I worked out three days this week just so I could tell her yes… never mind the fact that I missed the last three weeks solid. Plus, I was hoping that divine intervention would make those three days lower my blood pressure and somehow lop off 10 pounds.
Eh. Not so much.
Alas, I’ve gained 3 pounds since last year.
Then she follows it with questions about alcohol…
I haven’t had any wine since last Saturday just so I could say, ‘It’s been a while’.
Then she ends with questions about my diet…
Sure I ate two been, cheese, and guacamole tostadas on Tuesday (I picked off the lettuce and tomato – eww) but I counted Thursday’s Lean Cuisine pepperoni pizza as ‘healthy’. Hmm.. Maybe that’s where those 3 new pounds came from.
Anyway… I’m sitting in my cute paper outfit – very well prepared for the verbal drill and then…
‘Boy it’s been hot lately. Our air conditioner broke and my kids are dying! Don’t you just hate this weather?’
‘Yes, I’ve been exercising… wait what?!?’
Yeah. That’s right.
Not one question.
And we had steak and potatoes last night. Chris pulled out an amazing bottle of V. Sattui Syrah with an incredible bouquet/aroma and I held back because nooooo, I had to see the doctor today.
Next time, I’m pouring a glass.
And I worked out?!?!?
And I ate a LEAN CUISINE?!?!?
What a waste.
Stupid doctors.
Do we have more moving parts or something?
All this week, in preparation for my doctor’s usual litany of questions, I was very careful about my actions.
She usually asks if I’ve been exercising…
I worked out three days this week just so I could tell her yes… never mind the fact that I missed the last three weeks solid. Plus, I was hoping that divine intervention would make those three days lower my blood pressure and somehow lop off 10 pounds.
Eh. Not so much.
Alas, I’ve gained 3 pounds since last year.
Then she follows it with questions about alcohol…
I haven’t had any wine since last Saturday just so I could say, ‘It’s been a while’.
Then she ends with questions about my diet…
Sure I ate two been, cheese, and guacamole tostadas on Tuesday (I picked off the lettuce and tomato – eww) but I counted Thursday’s Lean Cuisine pepperoni pizza as ‘healthy’. Hmm.. Maybe that’s where those 3 new pounds came from.
Anyway… I’m sitting in my cute paper outfit – very well prepared for the verbal drill and then…
‘Boy it’s been hot lately. Our air conditioner broke and my kids are dying! Don’t you just hate this weather?’
‘Yes, I’ve been exercising… wait what?!?’
Yeah. That’s right.
Not one question.
And we had steak and potatoes last night. Chris pulled out an amazing bottle of V. Sattui Syrah with an incredible bouquet/aroma and I held back because nooooo, I had to see the doctor today.
Next time, I’m pouring a glass.
And I worked out?!?!?
And I ate a LEAN CUISINE?!?!?
What a waste.
Stupid doctors.
Wednesday, August 20, 2008
An Open Letter...
Dear Water Company,
Thank you for your correspondence to me dated August 16, 2008. In this letter, you stated that Governor Schwarzenegger declared a Level 1 Drought for the state of California. In response to his declaration, you sent out a list of mandatory water use efficiency measures that we as Southern California Residents must abide by. If we do not abide by these new efficiency measures, we will be fined. I would just like you to know, point by point of course, that I am in full compliance of these rules and in no way should be penalized.
1.) Stop washing down paved surfaces, including but not limited to sidewalks, driveways, parking lots, tennis courts, or patios.
Well darn, I was going to have the hired help go wash down my tennis courts but...
2.) Stop water waste resulting from inefficient landscape irrigation.
No worries. Watering - correctly or incorrectly - would totally ruin the daily ticket sales of my reinactment of the 1930's Great Dust Bowl I have in my yard.
3.) Irrigate residential and commercial landscape before 10 a.m. and after 6 p.m. only.
My yard could and should be considered holy ground as God is the only one who waters it - but you may want to send Him a copy of your letter, He frequently waters between 10am and 6pm.
4.) Use a hand-held hose equipped with a positive shut-off nozzle or bucket to water landscaped areas.
Landscaped areas. In my yard. Now that’s funny. My landscaped areas are right next to the live unicorns, fairies, and pixie dust.
5.) Irrigate nursery and commercial grower’s products before 10am and after 6pm only.
Nursery? What is this fantasy land you speak of where plants are alive...
6.) Use re-circulated water to operate ornamental fountains.
Contact me in 40 years… when I’m a senior citizen and a fountain would be an appropriate ornamental item for my yard. I live in East County, where the lawn ‘ornaments’ are cars… on blocks… coated with 10 years of dust… most of which is from my yard. Um. Sorry neighbors.
7.) Wash vehicles using a bucket and hand-held hose with positive shut-off nozzle. Avoid washing during hot conditions when additional water is required due to evaporation.
Who are you kidding?!?! Do I look like a person who performs manual labor? And in the heat? Riiiight.
8.) Serve and refill water in restaurants and other food service establishments only upon request.
Is that why servers neglect my empty water glass? It’s not bad service anymore… it’s ‘conservation’.
9.) Offer guests in hotels, motels, and other commercial lodging establishments the options of not laundering towels and linens daily.
I’ve been to a few seedy hotels that didn’t launder the sheets between guests, much less launder each day.
I know. Classy right? That’s how I roll.
10.) Repair all water leaks within (5) days.
I married to a plumber. Leaks are fixed before the first drop hits the sink. It’s his super power.
I hope we are all clear on the situation and my full obedience to it. You don’t need to thank me; I’m just being the best Californian I can be.
Lovingly yours,
Rebekah A.
Thank you for your correspondence to me dated August 16, 2008. In this letter, you stated that Governor Schwarzenegger declared a Level 1 Drought for the state of California. In response to his declaration, you sent out a list of mandatory water use efficiency measures that we as Southern California Residents must abide by. If we do not abide by these new efficiency measures, we will be fined. I would just like you to know, point by point of course, that I am in full compliance of these rules and in no way should be penalized.
1.) Stop washing down paved surfaces, including but not limited to sidewalks, driveways, parking lots, tennis courts, or patios.
Well darn, I was going to have the hired help go wash down my tennis courts but...
2.) Stop water waste resulting from inefficient landscape irrigation.
No worries. Watering - correctly or incorrectly - would totally ruin the daily ticket sales of my reinactment of the 1930's Great Dust Bowl I have in my yard.
3.) Irrigate residential and commercial landscape before 10 a.m. and after 6 p.m. only.
My yard could and should be considered holy ground as God is the only one who waters it - but you may want to send Him a copy of your letter, He frequently waters between 10am and 6pm.
4.) Use a hand-held hose equipped with a positive shut-off nozzle or bucket to water landscaped areas.
Landscaped areas. In my yard. Now that’s funny. My landscaped areas are right next to the live unicorns, fairies, and pixie dust.
5.) Irrigate nursery and commercial grower’s products before 10am and after 6pm only.
Nursery? What is this fantasy land you speak of where plants are alive...
6.) Use re-circulated water to operate ornamental fountains.
Contact me in 40 years… when I’m a senior citizen and a fountain would be an appropriate ornamental item for my yard. I live in East County, where the lawn ‘ornaments’ are cars… on blocks… coated with 10 years of dust… most of which is from my yard. Um. Sorry neighbors.
7.) Wash vehicles using a bucket and hand-held hose with positive shut-off nozzle. Avoid washing during hot conditions when additional water is required due to evaporation.
Who are you kidding?!?! Do I look like a person who performs manual labor? And in the heat? Riiiight.
8.) Serve and refill water in restaurants and other food service establishments only upon request.
Is that why servers neglect my empty water glass? It’s not bad service anymore… it’s ‘conservation’.
9.) Offer guests in hotels, motels, and other commercial lodging establishments the options of not laundering towels and linens daily.
I’ve been to a few seedy hotels that didn’t launder the sheets between guests, much less launder each day.
I know. Classy right? That’s how I roll.
10.) Repair all water leaks within (5) days.
I married to a plumber. Leaks are fixed before the first drop hits the sink. It’s his super power.
I hope we are all clear on the situation and my full obedience to it. You don’t need to thank me; I’m just being the best Californian I can be.
Lovingly yours,
Rebekah A.
Tuesday, August 19, 2008
My Olympic dreams…
I was watching the Olympic swim competitions when the news channel decided to do a 3-D breakdown of Michael Phelps’ body. I’ll let someone else explain, “Generally, a man's arm span equals his height but in his case it's 6'8"— five inches more than his height. Naturally his arms work as powerful paddles, giving him a clear edge over others. His lower body is shorter than that of an average man of his height. His short legs result in less drag. In short, Phelps has an upper body of a 6'8" person but his lower body seems to be of someone who is only 6', which also make the perfect plane in water.”
To help you understand, I drew a picture like the one on TV. Please remember, I don’t make hundreds of thousands of dollars a year for a design company so my technical and drawing skills aren’t exactly the same as the people from NBC. But they are close...um... for stick people.
To help you understand, I drew a picture like the one on TV. Please remember, I don’t make hundreds of thousands of dollars a year for a design company so my technical and drawing skills aren’t exactly the same as the people from NBC. But they are close...um... for stick people.
Sorry, I didn’t intend to make him look like a monkey.
I really feel as though we are all called to use our bodies to the best of our abilities. Soo… I did a drawing of my own body in an effort to discover my true calling.
As I’ve said before, my leg/arm to abdominal ratio closely resembles a Welsh Corgie…
But what I don’t often mention is my GI-NORMOUS ribcage. I could gain 300 pounds and still have protruding ribs.
Here’s what I came up with…
My legs and arms prevent me from being a real contender in running, swimming, or jumping so that leaves the following Olympic sports…
Uh.
None.
OK. What other things could my oddly shaped body be good at? Here’s what I came up with:
1 – Bearing children.
2 – Competitive eating
3 – Playing an anorexic or a zombie or an anorexic zombie a movie.
But.........
Chris vetoed child bearing.
I called my peeps at Warner Bros and they said my whole body would need to be thin... not just my ribs... to play an anorexic - plus they have plenty of real anorexics to choose from in Hollywood.
And they said they are using computer graphics for zombies these days – anorexic or otherwise.
Hmph.
I guess that only leaves one option….
I’m calling Hostess and Little Debbie to ask them if they’d be interested in supporting the next big thing in competitive eating.
Hilberto’s here I come!
Monday, August 18, 2008
Mike & Casey got engaged!!
Mike popped the question to Casey this weekend!
We’ve had a plan to go wine tasting for the last few months and Mike called Casey the night before to tell her he was being shipped off to fight a fire. He encouraged her to go without him and go with her friends.
We went wine tasting and then to dinner where Mike surprised her by delivering a bottle of wine with a ring tied around the bottleneck.
Needless to say…
We took just a few pictures… or 332. I was a little trigger happy.
The server brought flowers to Casey. See Mike on the left?
She didn't even see him!
And on the knee he goes.
She said yes!!
Cheers!
Chris almost blew the secret. He's still defending himself.
The bottle said, 'Casey, will you marry me?'
The new family!
Our server was fabulous at acting.
Thanks for letting us borrow the car mom!
The families surprised Casey with a party at our house
Casey's sister surprised her by staying home from San Fran
'Keira! Who's your daddy?'
We’ve had a plan to go wine tasting for the last few months and Mike called Casey the night before to tell her he was being shipped off to fight a fire. He encouraged her to go without him and go with her friends.
We went wine tasting and then to dinner where Mike surprised her by delivering a bottle of wine with a ring tied around the bottleneck.
Needless to say…
We took just a few pictures… or 332. I was a little trigger happy.
I gave a card to Casey from Mike that said, 'I'm sorry I can't be there but I purchased a bottle of wine for you. Ask the server to bring it out.'
As soon as she opened the card, Mike started to sneek out with the bottle of wine.
The server brought flowers to Casey. See Mike on the left?
She didn't even see him!
And on the knee he goes.
She said yes!!
Cheers!
Chris almost blew the secret. He's still defending himself.
The bottle said, 'Casey, will you marry me?'
The new family!
Our server was fabulous at acting.
Thanks for letting us borrow the car mom!
The families surprised Casey with a party at our house
Casey's sister surprised her by staying home from San Fran
'Keira! Who's your daddy?'
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