Wednesday, August 22, 2007

The difference between stupidity and genius is that genius has its limits.

Just for you ! Hot off the computer! More stream of consciousness….suffer, bitches…..I spell check not - be warned.

I feel like blogging is the computer equivalent of talking to yourself. On the upside people don’t stare at you and cross to the other side of the street when you blog. I’m pretty sure it’s a silly pastime. I also think that it might be helpful in getting me prepped for National Novel Writing Month (November). I’m looking forward to it…a lot. Yeah. I’m a boring geek. What’s your friggin’ point? The intention is to write a novel of 50,000 words (more a novella really but I didn’t name the damn thing). I think it will be exciting. It will also be very hard. Extremely hard. Sweet, sweet torture if you want the truth. 50,000 words in 30 days. Wow. My book is going to suck. No. No. It will Suck. Capital “S”. Why? I can only write dialogue. I’m not too clever at plot points. How does x get to b? Why is Bathsheba scooping out Peter’s eye? Is she robbing Peter to pay Paul? Who knows? Not me. But the repartee will be fantastic. I wonder if it would be possible to write a book of just conversations. I bet it’s been done. Note to self: find out about that. . I bet Katherine could name six books just off the top of her head. She’s the one to ask. I don’t understand why she (you if you’re reading this, Patherine) denigrates her looks. It’s silly. She’s a very pretty girl. I suppose we all do it. It’s stupid. We should stop. We won’t but we should. I could make a list of all the good features of all of my friends and then tack them to their walls so that every day they have to look at it. Would it help? I don’t know. It couldn’t hurt. That would give me something to write about in this blog so that the stream of crap could stop. But it wouldn’t be the same thing and I’ve already committed to this format. Damn the man! I should think things through. I really should. I bet a lot of mistakes would have been avoided that way. But! I’m learning. G-d knows I’m trying at any rate. My mother always says that proper pre-planning prevents piss poor performance. Liv would say that that proves she’s a Virgo. Liv should dance. Dance like a friggin’ dervish. Just twirl and twirl till she falls down with the joy of it. I think she will. There’s another one! Pretty! Doesn’t believe it. I always say that I only hang out with attractive people. Why don’t my friends believe me? Uggos need not apply. I’m shallow. I can admit it. That makes me a bad person doesn’t it? Well, maybe not. Maybe it’s just natural selection? No. I’m the devil. I accept it. The first step is admitting you have a problem. If that could be the last step as well that would be great. If the acceptance and the intention were enough wouldn’t that be grand? It would be like being a Catholic. If you start the day saying to yourself that you’re intention is to go down the street and hit your neighbor with a shovel you can do something else because you’ve already, technically, committed that sin. Pick another! I like sloth quite a bit. That’s a good one. Very restful. My book is going to blow chunks. This is the kind of crap that comes into my head. How can it not be utter crap? Answer? It can’t. Thank G-d the point isn’t to right a good, or even readable, book. What is the point then? I don’t know. Why do people climb Everest? Same reason I guess. But my stupid thing keeps me inside and with all my toes/fingers/nose intact. Take that sherpa!

Sunday, August 19, 2007

I shall stay the way I am because I do not give a damn.

I have realized something. I have reached the age that people now feel it is appropriate to say “and you’re not married?!” in a condemning and disbelieving fashion after they find out how old I am. This, needless to say, is not helpful.

I was at work today playing get to know the new co-worker via meaningless chit chat, as one does, and she asked me if I am currently a party to the wedded state. I said no. A few minutes later she asked me how old I am. I told her that I am thirty-two. She then gasped and said, with eyes made wide by shock, “and you’re not married?!” No. No, I’m not. I believe we just covered that. She then asked me if it was by choice or….the sentence trailed off.

I’m sorry. I don’t understand the question. Are you asking me if it’s my choice not to be married or….am I too ugly/stupid/defective to “catch” a man? Is it my choice or… my right to marriage being impeded by those pesky Republicans but it‘s ok because my “roommate“ and I are planning to adopt a child from Asia? Is it my choice or…..has the state decided that I should not be allowed to marry for fear that I will breed more weirdoes like myself? What? What are you asking me?!

I was caught unawares even though I’ve read the “chick lit”! I never understood those scenes in books where the single woman is verbally abused by the married people in the room. Probably because it had never happened to me. I didn’t get it. Now I see. I’ve had my eyes opened for me. And what, you’re wondering, is the point?

The point is that it is never ok to assume that because something is right for you that it is right for every other person on the face of G-d’s little green earth. I’m happy that you’ve found your soul mate. The ying to your yang. That extra special wee little punkin’. The person who, hopefully, gets you. Really. Truly. I am. G-d bless! I, however, have not. And, honestly? I’m ok with it.

I will admit that occasionally I think that life would be made better by having someone around who honest to G-d knows what I think about something without having to ask. Possibly it would be nice to know a man who doesn’t mind if I’m the funny one. I’m not knocking having someone to just sit around and be fuckin’ stupid with who will also not get spooked and run screaming for the anti-psychotics when I exhibit an emotional range larger than a robots. I’m not against keeping a person handy who only wants the best for me and is willing to get screamed at (by me occasionally) for that good thought. All of these things would be peachy. I am for them.

Unfortunately, no such man has come along. What would you have me do? Marry any man who asks me just so I can say that I’ve been married? Or should I hold out for a rich one? That way I can say I was married once and get paid! Both of these options are vile. Call me old fashioned but I’m not going to stand up in front of G-d and everybody and swear to love someone forever with my fingers crossed. I’m kooky like that.

And what if this mythical soul mate of mine did come along? Does that mean I would immediately feel the need to run out and get hitched? Jesus wept! Why would I? You think a ring proves something? You think saying the words makes them true? No. Feeling bound to somebody, not by a ceremony or a statute and for damn sure not by a piece of jewelry but by mutual respect and love, proves something. Demonstrating your love through common every day run of the mill actions makes it true. If you don’t know that you are loved without someone having to say it or perform an expensive ritual then the odds are you aren‘t.

Let us be clear. I do not condemn the married state. I say have at it. I respect anybody’s choice to wed. Hell, if there is an open bar I will be positively giddy for you! But do I long to be married? No. If I see a big mafia bride wedding dress do I think I’ve just got to get me one of those? Nope. Do I have panic attacks because I’ve just got to get hitched before time runs out and I’ll look too dumb wearing white to do it? Uh uh.

I know that some will doubt me. They believe that every woman wants that shiny gold band. They think that without it I will never be complete. That I will wander alone and sad all the days of my life. That this post is the proverbial sour grapes. That if I was asked tomorrow by any Joe Schmoe I’d jump at the chance to be Mrs. Whoeverthefuck. Well, to them I say, that’s alright. You believe what you want and I’ll know that I would rather die alone than live five minutes with the wrong person or feel compelled to run through a formal procedure to prove my devotion.

So, in conclusion, the next time you’re about to assume that everybody either is or should be married stop. Think. Then turn that sentence the hell around and say, “So, how ‘bout those Mets?” instead.

Saturday, August 18, 2007

Whatever you do will be insignificant, but it is very important that you do it.

I started my new job on Tuesday. There are some great things and some not so great things about it (as in everything else in life). So, I shall make lists….As I do.

1. I’m getting paid.
2. Hot….and I mean HOT men come in every day to look at apartments. Oh! And they’re friggin’ rich! Gotta’ love it.
3. I’ve already found a new gay friend. I know. It’s shocking. So lucky he is there because the business is a little uptight so at least I have one person to talk shit with. Sing Hallelujah! Example? Today the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen up close came in right as D. went to lunch. He whipped around and said he could go later. Oh. Honey. No. You take your lunch! I wouldn’t dream of detaining you. There was much bitterness on his part whilst I laughed like a drain.
4. I’ve only been showing apartments for two days and I’ve already got three lease applications in. Easy? Little bit!
5. All the cholos on the maintenance crew love me. Again, you’re shocked. I know.
6. The commute Monday-Friday is pretty damn good so far. It only takes me an hour and about fifteen minutes each way.
7. There is a Whole Foods Market right next door.
8. Seriously? It’s so friggin’ easy. For someone who hates talking to strangers I’m bloody good at it.
9. With all the walking around I’ve been doing I’m pretty sure I’m being paid to exercise.
10. The tenants, so far, are stupid nice. They’re like Canadians! They are much with the politeness.

1. I won’t get my first pay check till 08/31. This is the suck as I need the cash. I had to have my wind shield replaced a few weeks ago and it cost an obscene amount of money.
2. I was told that my outfit today was too casual. They want me to wear suits and shit. However, on the plus side when I explained that I would have to wait a couple of pay checks to improve the old wardrobe they didn’t get pissy about it.
3. The other two people in the office are, as previously mentioned, a wee bit uptight. Seriously. If I dropped the s bomb I think they might faint.
4. I haven’t really been getting any training. They basically showed me the forms and then flung me to the wolves. Also, they keep asking me to do things they haven’t told me how to do yet. It’s a bit annoying but they do, in the end, realize that Oh yeah! We haven’t told her about that yet!
5. All the cholos on the maintenance crew love me.
6. The commute on Saturday is a bitch on wheels. Please, somebody, explain to me what the fuck is up with that!
7. There is a Whole Paycheck Market right next door.
8. I do a lot of filing. A. Lot. Apparently nobody had filed anything for about a month before I got there and when they did they didn’t seem to know their alphabet.
9. It’s very disorganized. Which is a struggle for me. It makes me a little mental.
10. People keep saying, “From where? You drive all that way?! Every day?! Wow!” At least once a day. Come on, people! Get over it! Then, of course, they start talking about how they could never do it…blah…blah…blah. So? You don’t have to. Get a grip.

So, all in all, I like it so far. When I get paid I’ll like it even more.

Saturday, August 11, 2007

People Who Don't Make Me Sad

The people who made these movies.

Why? Because "Mostly Martha" is so good that I could almost ignore the "smooth jazz" soundtrack. Catherine Zeta-Who? And also because "North & South" is a truly great BBC costume drama...and, let's face facts, Richard Armitage is too damn good looking.

In other news! I slept weird and now I can't move my neck. I'm a gimp! Well, no. Not a gimp. What would one call someone who couldn't move their neck? I have no idea. I'm off to od on ibuprofin.

Friday, August 10, 2007

Doubt is not a pleasant condition, but certainty is an absurd one.

My Day: 08/09/07

8 - 8:15 AM: Woke Up
8:15 - 10 AM: Got Ready For My Two Interviews
10 AM: Left For First Interview
10 - 11:30 AM: Drove To McLean
11:30: Confused My Right With My Left And Got A Wee Bit Lost
11:40: Back On Track
11:45: Arrived At First Interview
11:45 - 12 PM: Sat In Car Because I Was Way Early For My Interview
12 PM: Entered Building
12 - 12:15 PM: Filled Out Paperwork.
12:15 - 12:25 PM: Worst Interview Ever

A Brief Synopsis Of Worst Interview Ever For Your Edification:
Mr. Idiot Bastard - Andrea?
Me - Actually, it’s Adrienne but -
Mr. Idiot Bastard - Whatever.
Me - (confused) It’s ok. It happens all the time.
Mr. Idiot Bastard spends the rest of the ten minutes staring at my (entirely appropriately clothed) chest and rolling his eyes when I speak.

12:25 - 12:35: Given All Kinds Of Paperwork By The Receptionist In Case I’m Hired…Um, Yeah. Right.
12:35 - 2:15 PM: Drove Back To Fredericksburg Whilst Swearing & Yelling
2:15 - 2:35: Went To Avanti & Had Hair Straightened To Perk Myself Up
2:35 - 3:00: Went To Get Gas And Find A Restroom
3:00 - 4:00 PM: Drove To Alexandria For Second Interview In Pouring Rain
4 - 4:30 PM: Sat In Car Because I Was Way Early For My Interview
4:30 PM: Entered Building
4:30 - 4:50 PM: Filled Out Paperwork
4:50 - 5:45: Best Interview Ever

A Brief Synopsis Of Best Interview Ever For Your Edification:
The lady interviewing me said, and I quote, that I seemed perfect (repeatedly) and that with my personality she would think that I’d be able to easily rent five or six apartments a month. She also laughed in all the right places and when she asked me customer service/sales question she said (repeatedly) that my answers are what she herself would have done. She lastly said that she had to make a decision by tomorrow (08/10/07) and that she’d call me then (today).

5:45 - 7:30 PM: Drove Home Whilst Singing Loudly To The Radio

Now it’s 2:38PM the next day and I’ve heard nothing from the nice lady. So, what? What the hell?! I’ve been thinking positively all day (till now) and I’m still trying to keep a good thought but GD! If I suck I do wish people would just tell me! At least that way I don’t get my hopes up. Is that too much to ask? Apparently it is.

I don't suck! I just got the call from the apartment building. Tomorrow I go to get drug tested and, providing I'm not a heroine adict and my references work out, I start on Tuesday at 9AM.

Wednesday, August 8, 2007

You Know The Drill

I’ve been tagged twice! This seems unfair. So, in protest, I shall only respond once. Stick that in your collective pipes and smoke it!

8 Weird Things That You May Not Know About Me:
1. I write poetry. Awesomely bad poetry. Occasionally, if I think it’s funny, I will inflict it on others. This is rare. Please, don’t be frightened.

2. I am deathly afraid of tornadoes. Every time we have any kind of a warning or watch or anything I have a minor panic attack.

3. I can pick things up with my toes. . . and I do.

4. I have to check my bank account balance at least once a day. On vacation? Twice a day. What? I'm bad at math.

5. I love lists. All lists. You are all enablers!

6. I bought a tv over a year ago. It worked for 3 months and then blew. I still have it in my room because every couple of months I become convinced that I can fix it. I spend a couple of hours trying to fix it. I never succeed. PS? I don't know anything about electronics.

7. I collect notebooks. Everywhere I go I buy notebooks but then I don't want to use them because they're so perfect blank. I end up using an old legal pad.

8. I've always wanted a surprise birthday party. I don't know why.

Monday, August 6, 2007

Some editors are failed writers, but so are most writers. T.S. Eliot

It has been brought to my attention that I don’t blog enough. Well, what can I say? My bad. So, I’ll attempt to log a blog at least once a day. Starting? Oh, why not now?

What to blog about? What…to…blog…about…. Hu. Well, since nothing is striking me right off the bat I’m afraid you’ll have to deal with stream of consciousness. Sucks to be you as I will not be using spell check.

Why are gauchos a popular style of pant? They don’t look good on anybody under 5’5”. Seriously. Think about it. They end right below the knee but they’re all quite loose and flowy. Who needs that when they have, like myself, about what? 4 inches between knee and ankle? Maybe it’s that I have the shortest legs on the planet (except obviously for “little people” PS? Did you see that the father from Little People Big World got pulled for DUI? For G-d’s sake! If you are under 4 feet tall I got news! You can’t drink that much. It’s a body mass thing. Thems the breaks but come on! You had to know that.)? I am, apparently, Snow White: The Later Years. No. Don’t laugh. It’s serious stuff! The later years? I’m old. Old as the hills…as long as the hills were formed in 1975. Wow. The seventies kind of sucked. On the bright side? I was born on the day that we finally left Vietnam. You’re welcome. Clearly it was in honor of my birthday. The cosmos thought to themselves, as they are want to do, well, she’s missed good Elvis, the Beatles, the sexual revolution will be over by the time she’s old enough to do anything about it . . . .not that I believe I would have although who knows? Maybe if I hadn’t been raised my entire life knowing that sex can kill I’d be a total whore but I kind of doubt it. Sadly, I am what used to be known as a “good girl”. Sex is fun. I like it. However, I don’t see the point of random hooking up. It just seems trashy to me. I mean you should all go do what you want I’m not preaching! I’m just saying, for me? I think not. At least this way if ever I decide to totally give up my entire way of life I can move to Brooklyn and become one of the Hasidim. Yeah. That would happen. Like I’d ever shave my head. Get a grip! I’d wear a burka first. Actually, I think they’re actually a good idea in the desert. Sunburn is a bitch on wheels is all I’m sayin’. Which is actually why they were probably introduced. Why? Because the paler you are the more high class you must be. If you’re pale you must have servants to do the work for you out in the sun. So, since all people want to be thought of as being of a higher station what can you do if you need to be out in the sun? You cover up. It’s a fashion, man! Maybe I’m wrong. I don’t know. It’s just a theory. Please, don’t bomb me. Can I just say that I’m in no way afraid of being bombed? When the Republicans start telling me that without them I’d be bombed to hell and gone I tend to laugh (with great force. . . and anger). I don’t know how anybody could let that color their view of the different parties. Is it better to vote out of fear or out of respect? Well, all I’m saying is that the Nazis instilled fear in the populace and look what happened. Bad things. Am I saying that terrorism is never going to happen here again? Clearly I am not. I’m saying that if it happens it happens. Closing down the Mexican border isn’t going to help. That’s just an excuse to keep the dark poor people out. Racism at it’s finest. You never hear anybody say “those damn Canadians are taking our jobs! Let’s build a wall!” No. No. You never will. Why? Because we think of Canadians as being white folks who speak our language. To this I say that the statue of liberty doesn’t have a plaque that reads “give me your white. Your rich. Your English speakers yearning to make bank!” I bitch and moan, it occurs to me, a lot about my country. Well, that’s my prerogative (I can do what I wanna’ do…Bobby Brown…anyone? Anyone?). I’m an American. It’s my duty to try and make my country a better place. I honestly believe in the dream of America. I believe that we are, when we do what we say we will do and are who we say we are, the greatest country in the world. We are the only country founded on the simple principle that all men are created equal and have the right to go out and do what they can, as long as they don’t hurt anyone else, to be happy. That’s pretty friggin’ extraordinary when you think about it. Are we the best we can be? No. We aren’t. We are not what we should be. But, more importantly, we are not what we were and we shall someday, G-d willing, be what we can be. Maybe I should run for president! Not likely. If I could figure out a way to work for the Clinton foundation I’d do it in a hot minute. Hmmmm….how to get in the door at the Clinton foundation….oh. Wait. I got an idea. An awful idea. Dark Fury has a wonderful, awful idea. . . . Anybody got a cigar? I just shouldn’t wear gauchos when I go on the interview because, again, they’re not attractive.

Wednesday, August 1, 2007

If You Can't Afford To Tip Then You Can't Afford To Go Out!

The 30 minute whore is everywhere. Why? Why? Seriously, what am I? Job?!

30 Minute Meals was bad enough but I could live with it. I changed the station. Done. Then $40 A Day...OK. Too much but still ok. But now she's endorsing every product under the sun and has, what? 32 shows? On at any given time. Aurgh! It's too much.

Maybe it wouldn't bug me so much if she didn't constantly abbreviate words/phrases that take more time for her to explain the abbreviation of than to actually say. No. No. Even without the abbreviations she'd still be friggin' irritating. Perhaps if she learned how to use measuring devices? What kind of a cook "eyeballs" a cup of anything? How is telling someone to use a handful of something helpful? Um, hi! People have different sized hands. My handful and Mike Tyson’s handful? Probably different. Still, I can deal with this. I can live with her fake ass perky attitude. It's all good in the hood. I have a remote control I can flip away. So, Hmmm...what's the real issue?

The real issue is that she's rich as Roosevelt and apparently thinks that it's ok to tip less than 10% on any purchase. I came home a few minutes ago and her $40 a Day was on. It was that oh so exciting moment when they flash the break down for the price of her meal on the screen. She spent $10 on breakfast and, with tax and tip? It was a whopping $11.75. Now if one person wants to be a cheap piece of goods well then that's up to them but to imply that this is acceptable behavior to your legions (why? why? I need to know!) of fans is neither delish nor yum-o. It's creepy and sickening, just like those cutesy expressions.

Someday, come the revolution, the wait staff of the world will rise up and slay her and she'll have no one but herself to blame.