chemaccino good, but not good for you
Thursday, September 30, 2004
Tyra's Bitches Whoring Cover Girl Cosmetics
First of all, my notes are terrible. I feel pretty sorry for any company or individual who has the bad fortune to have me be the one taking the minutes of their meetings.
Secondly, holy whoring for Cover Girl, Batman! Maybe Season 4 will see it all renamed America's Next Cover Girl. I actually like Cover Girl cosmetics, for two reasons: 1) they are inexpensive, and 2) they don't give me a burning sensation. In your FACE, Maybelline bitchaz!
And now, uh, Restly, the rest of my thoughts on the ep., all in question form:
Hey Ann, high-maintenance much?
Kelle, why do you think people care about the particulars of your life?
Did little braceface Noelle just roll her eyes at Kelle?
Tyra, will you please get Yaya an appointment with a dermatologist?
Hey Kelle, if it's not working to make friends with the girls by talking, how about if you try making friends by listening to them talk?
Is it weird that I'm really sick of seeing Tyra's face?
How does that even happen?
Nice breasts, Janice; why don't you pass them around so we can all try them on?
Who is Nicole?
Did they just have to encourage a model to strip down to a tube top?
Will Leah join the cast over at Trump's, now that she knows it's okay to wear a tube top without pearls and a blazer?
Or will she sell the pearls-and-blazer to Maria?
The Latest Temp Gig, or, "What is that smell?"
The people at this law office are really really nice and friendly. How boring is that. Ha, ha, nyah, nyah, sucks to be you reading my blog when I don't have good bitching to do.
Just kidding. There's always some little nothing-of-a-thing to make into a big deal. And there's always my car trouble for your amusement. Oh, yes. Again. Today.
It's not all love and roses at the office, though. Unfortunately, there is a smell. A smell such that everytime I write about the smell I have to use italics. A smell like stank, rancid cat piss. The smell is not everywhere in the office, and it does seem, in general, to move around and be in different places at different times. The only place where it is consistently present is in the cube where I'll have to work. And there is a stain. on the carpet. in the cube.
So, I dunno, maybe someone brought in their sick cat or maybe it was a dog or maybe it was the woman who I'll be covering for and she's really nervous about her upcoming surgery, y'know? She seems nervous. She sent me off to do filing all day, I guess so she could get things in order at her desk, but she really should have done that yesterday so she could maximize our overlap time training me. But they never do have time to train you, because it makes them think about how they're going to be out for surgery, and they'd rather be left alone hustle-bustling at their desk ignoring you and why am I here, anyway?
It's so nice that the one I like the least is the one I won't have to work with. I do like her big rust-colored white-girl fro, though. I figure she's about 47, but she reminds me of this girl at my bus stop when I was in elementary school: Mindy. Mindy Feinstein had a big red fro. But then again, we had barely left the 70's, so fros were a bit more common than nowadays. Anyway, I'm going to call this woman Mindy.
Back to the smell. What can I do about this? Mindy left before I did, so I only had to spend about a half-hour sitting at her desk, but the smell was too much for me, and I moved my work to a conference room. I can't do that anymore, though, because I'm supposed to help answer the phone. When the incredibly-helpful-woman-who-I-have-yet-to-name came over to the cube to get me started on a project, I asked her if she smelled anything, and she said she didn't but she's stuffed up and can't smell at all. I was tempted to ask someone else, but here's my big big problem:
I don't want to be The Crazy Temp Who Keeps Insisting She Smells Something Bad.
Especially when i-h-w-w-i-h-y-t-n is a third-year law student, and thus I doubt she'll want to continue as a paralegal after she takes the bar exam. My tempy sense is tingling. If I'm really lucky, maybe the smell will be replaced with eu de job offer.
And who knows? Maybe my luck is changing. All that was wrong with the car (so far) is that the thing that holds up the muffler stopped being able to hold up the muffler. So, we'll see what the garage has to say about it at the end of tomorrow.
Wednesday, September 29, 2004
I know you are all absolutely pissing your pants* to hear my thoughts on this evening's Power Lineup Of Unscripted Programming**, but sadly, I've been feeling sickly all afternoon and evening, so I'll post stuff tomorrow when I get home from the temp job I'm starting. (ooooh, that ought to be good bloggin', too!)
For the first time ever, I took notes. They get punchy by about 9:30; lots of exclamation points, mostly about how great John is and how most of the women suck, except I like Li'l Stacy. And Pamela. Poor Pamela.
Anyway, I don't want to subject people to !!!!, so I'll have to wait 'til I have the brainpower for editing.
*(Sshhh, I'm pretending people care about it. Don't disabuse me of that notion, it makes me feel powerful.)
**For me, the lineup included QE/UK at 10 on Bravo, so it really was a big night.
Monday, September 27, 2004
Different, But The Same
It's always interesting to me to see what I do and do not have in common with other bloggers who I have never met, but whose blogs I read consistently.
Today I experienced an interesting different-but-the-same realization on Bryan Adams' site.
Here's an excerpt from his post:
If Bush gets elected, it doesn’t matter to me personally because I’m not going to get drafted to fight a war in Iran, I’m not going to find myself without health insurance, and I’m always going to be able to find a high-paying job.
Don't get angry or anything; he's right. It doesn't mean he doesn't care.
But I was struck by how different he and I are.
If Bush gets elected, I might get drafted to fight a war in Iran, I’m not going to find myself with real health insurance, and I'm never going to be able to find a high-paying job.
Friday, September 24, 2004
Just guess what Beau got in the mail from amazon today.
I suppose I'll see him again in a week or two.
Highlights for Children
Why is it called Highlights for Children? Was there ever a Highlights for Some Other Population? This observational humor bit writes itself, and can include monkey jokes. But what I MEANT to do here is list
Highlights from Yesterday's Interview At the Temp/Placement Agency
Sadly, this was not quite the lovefest of my last such meeting. This woman was neither hostile nor inappropriate, like my last job interview. She was somewhere in between lovefest and hostile, which I guess isn't saying much.
All told (tolled?), it was a strange experience. Observe the highlights:
-She interrupted half my sentences.
-She asked questions the answer to which I had already supplied.
-She did not seem to be listening to my responses to her inquiries. (See also: the above two points)
-You know those sweaters with the built-in shirt-collars? She had one on; it was bright yellow, creative-cable-knit, ended below her butt, and the collar was styled like blazer lapels.
-She wanted me to re-do my resume to imply that I worked while I took the paralegal
course. I pointed out that this would not, perhaps, work out well since the work and the course were in two different states.
-She thought my resume was confusing, especially to herself, because she is 'not detail-oriented'.
She did have some good suggestions for me, though not delivered in the friendliest tone. She seemed to be in a rush, which is understandable, because she wasn't able to meet with me until a half-hour after the time we had scheduled. All in all, I'm torn. On the one hand, she might be a terrific resource. On the other, the experience reminded me of Dirk Calloway's line in Rushmore (which I recently saw again):
With friends like you, who needs friends?
Trump's Suits Fun With Anagrams
(Includes spoilers from last night's show)
Don't want to bother watching, but want to know what I'm talking about? Read NBC's recap.
Want to read what I said about last week's show? Go ahead.
After only three episodes of this show, I can safely admit that I am (comparatively) fond of some of the less-likable characters.
Oh, it's reality tv, you say. They aren't characters, they're contestants. Let me tell you something. They were contestants back in the spring/summer when they competed, but as soon as the footage hit the editing room, they became characters. And I do not consider it 'reality' as much as 'unscripted'.
You can't spell "All Unlikable" without "Labia"
I thought there wasn't nearly enough footage of Pamela. Beau teases me that I like people who make fun of children, but so what? It's more entertaining than people who are polite. Pamela is not a salesperson, and can't seem to be enthusiastic about anything that does not involve her eating or drinking something. If there's caviar, champagne, and/or white toast points, she's all smiles, otherwise it's all business frownies with her. But I love that! I also really liked her idea of pumping a scent into a subway station; scents are powerful things, and it seemed like a cool idea. There were only two shots of her this episode, besides the one of her vanilla-scent idea: one where she was a funeral director handing out toothpaste and one where she was excited about champagne. Oh, and that other one where she talked about how the prize money wouldn't have to be taxed or something. So, 4 total.
Pamela: unlikable but lovable
Stacy-with-a-Y emerged as a kind of single-minded psycho hellbent on the destruction of the woman who dares have her same first name. I mean, I'm sure I'm not the only one who imagined her on a hilltop brandishing a broadsword and shouting There can be only one! I couldn't understand where this focused hostility was coming from, until that scene in the boardroom where Sandy referred to her as "Little Stacy". Maybe Little Stacy thinks that now that she's the only Stacy, the other women will just call her Stacy? Oh, honey, I got news for you. That name is going to stick. You looked about eight years old when you got off the elevator. Please, please, PLEASE start shopping in Petites; you'll look older if your clothes fit. Oh, and maybe an edgier haircut? At least pull it back so we can see your pretty face.
Stacy: unlikable but lovable
Sandy is way too Alpha-Cheerleader Rule-by-Fear-Not-by-Deeds. She's harsh in the boardroom, and she leaves me wondering What has she done lately? I hope she's project manager soon so she can put her money where her mouth is. She is ripe for some comeuppance.
Sandy: unlikable but untargeted
Ivana seems nice, seems 'in the clique', seems capable. (Yeah, capable of making brainstorming sessions last for hours.) She was in charge of the budget, she was there with Maria the whole time, she could have caught Maria's oversight in not asking about labor costs. In fact, anyone who went into Alliance with Maria could have caught the oversight; it makes me wonder about game dynamics. If Ivana or one of the other ladies with them at Alliance had noticed the error, maybe she held her tongue so there would be a clear scapegoat if they lost? Back to Ivana: she can't do anything well. She should have been in the boardroom. It's sad, too, because I loves me that name.
Ivana: unlikable and incapable
You can't spell "Last Minute Spectacle" without "Penis"
I don't know what to think of Kevin, the project manager for Mosaic. On the one hand, he seemed weak and unleaderly when he stepped back and let that pompous idiot Andy run with the Million-Dollar-Insurance idea. On the other hand, he found a way to, at the last minute, pull a circus out of his ass.
Okay, okay, so in retrospect he looks brilliant. I mean, the team seemed to approve of Andy's idea, and it meant that Andy took on lots of responsibility should they lose. Good preservation strategy. And then OMGWTFCIRCUS?! I guess if there's anyone you can hire last-minute, it's circus performers.
How long will Mosaic's last-minute luck hold out? It seems like they've been operating under an accidental just-in-time philosophy that has worked in their favor despite the majority of their efforts rather than because of them. I mean, they didn't so much win this round as they did avoid losing. I guess it's the same thing, though.
You'll need "Rant" to spell "Transparent"
The biggest change in the show this season over last is the role of The Donald's little business-lesson-in-the-middle-of-the-episode. It's no longer an extended bathroom break. This season, if you pay attention to his lesson, you can pretty clearly figure out which team is going to the boardroom. All footage of the project after The Lesson takes on a kind of operatic quality; it's not about figuring out who's going down, it's about watching the fall. A Greek Tragedy kind of a thing. In fact, I discovered that I've been rooting for Apex (ew), because watching them after watching The Lesson gave me a very familiar feeling of hope-beyond-hope dread: the same feeling I get whenever I watch Anouilh's Antigone, where I keep hoping that maybe this time, somehow, she'll live.
Stacie J.'s paranoia was ultimately her downfall, but it's interesting to think about the chronology of it. She became paranoid way before she had any reason to be, but that misplaced concern led to the behavior that ultimately justified her later paranoia. It's not exactly a self-fulfilling prophecy, but it's close enough.
Pulling the rest of Apex back into the boardroom seemed an unnecessary stunt; half of them had already condemned Stacie before heading upstairs; why would The Donald think they would do otherwise?
I suspect that Trump actually wants to fire at least two of the people sent into the boardroom every week so far, and that he chooses which one based on what will make for the best drama. Rob was obvious deadweight and wouldn't have added drama to Mosaic in the future. Bradford had started out exempt, so that's a Terrific Television Twist! Stacie was condemned by her entire team as crazy; it was a good-old-fashioned witch burning!
Elizabeth is utterly screwed unless she can redeem herself by being PM again and doing a better job.
Oh, and you can't spell "You're Fired" without "Deify".
Thursday, September 23, 2004
I know that I am sometimes oversensitive about things. I have a hard time hearing or accepting criticism, even when I know it's deserved and I agree with it. In my life, I need to work on letting things go; not everything can be perfect, and that means that there will be room for someone to criticize me with a decent reason.
There are places where this is entirely appropriate, and I'm getting better at owning up to my limitations in these instances. For example, I used to live with someone who was much better about getting the dishes clean than I am. Whenever he would point out that I'm not pulling my weight on cleaning dishes, I would acknowledge he was right, and make an effort to be more conscientious.
There are also situations where criticism-with-decent-reason is entirely INappropriate. For example, a job interview. If I apply for a job and the company invites me for an interview, it would be inappropriate for me to show up to the interview and embark on a series of questioning that shows how not-good the company is. Even if I were applying for some kind of efficiency expert or something, I would be expected to couch it in terms of potential-for-improvement, not what's-crappy-here.
You see where I'm going with this. I had a lovely interview for a legal assistant job with the partner I'd be assisting, and he suggested I meet with the associate in his office. Not that I'd be supporting her much, but maybe some, and she sits next door, so, y'know. So she comes in and he leaves me with her, and as soon as the door closes behind him, she turns to me and asks, With your educational background, why do you want to be a secretary? Now it's true that I've gotten this question from several interviewers in my life, but never with such a demeaning emphasis on the word 'secretary'. It's always an unpleasant question to get, and often a Bad Sign. After all, why is she attacking me for wanting the job? Well, I try to explain, I see the answer in the flip of that question. Why would I get that education if I want to be a secretary? See, I didn't know what I wanted to d-
No, I don't think that's the flip of it at all, in fact...
Did she just cut me off? And attack my response? Is she allowed to do that? Am I being taped? This isn't okay; I do not feel okay about this. Granted, perhaps that wasn't the Greatest Response Ever, but shouldn't she have let me finish to see where I was going with it?
After my initial response, I was able to pull myself together enough to get some perspective: this is just an interview and I don't have to ever come back here; this will all be over soon. But like I've said, I'm perhaps a bit too sensitive, and I was off my game for the remainder of my interview with her, what with the fighting-back-tears-by-biting-the-inside-of-my-lip, and all. At some point, she realized that she had pushed me too hard (in her attack of my entire job search) and started answering her question for me, ...I know the job market is tight right now, so maybe that's why you're here... sometimes I feel like just going out and getting a paralegal job myself... This was all unhelpful. I fail to see how our situations are analogous. But at least I have the decorum to let her have her say.
When I got home, I had to call the placement agency and give them feedback about the interview. I told Marcia (the recruiter) how much I really liked the partner, but that perhaps this wasn't right for me because everyone in that office seemed to be at least 40 years old, and I didn't think I'd feel comfortable with them, or they with me. Admittedly, I also mentioned that the associate had been a bit harsh with me. (I thought she should know, in case she's sending other lambs to that slaughter.) She tried to reason with me that sometimes that's just people's interview styles, maybe she had had a bad day, etc. I was having none of that. I explained that I've been on many interviews, and even tough interviewers weren't like this. Also, if it was because she was having a bad day, then I'm lucky to find out how she takes it out on others before I commit to working with her.
Oh, and you will LOVE this part: Marcia tried to talk me into temp-to-perm-ing there. What if you give it a few weeks, see how it goes. Long-time readers know how I feel about temping somewhere where they think I'm going to be perm. It seems somewhere between rude and disrespectful. I talked Marcia out of that, too. I suspect she's none too thrilled with me; I think she thinks I was oversensitive to the woman's interview technique. She wasn't there, man, she doesn't know. But just in case, I have an interview with another placement agency this afternoon.
Saturday, September 18, 2004
Trump's Suits -now with EBF!-
(Ep.2 commentary; includes spoilers)
Look how nice I am, warning of spoilers for those folks who tape the show and/or watch the rebroadcast. I don't think I'll always watch the Rebroadcast With Extra Boardroom Footage, if that becomes a regular thing. And I hope to be a little more in-depth than the TwoP recaplet, and available sooner than their full-coverage piece. Oh, and I skipped writing about the first ep; don't bother checking the archives or anything.
Enough of the admin notes. On to the meat.
Omigod, all these trees! What kind of a place is this?
People, people. It's a forest. Oops, I mean urban jungle. The teams, especially Apex, tend to be SO detail-oriented that they obsess about creative matters that don't really matter. Apex put a lot of effort into brainstorming and creating a flavor, when that was really only tangential to the actual project goal. It's true that they needed to come up with a flavor, but to win, they needed to bring in the most money. Someone on the team should have realized this from the outset, and mentioned to the group that their selling strategy would be of primary importance, and the ice cream flavor could be decided based on the strategy. With that pointed out, people probably wouldn't care so much about "consensus-building" and having their voices heard. It took me less than a minute to come up with an awesome flavor that would have sold just as well: "Greenilla." It's vanilla ice cream, with green sugar crystals! Kevin and I should start an ice cream company together; we'd be unstoppable.
Ice Cream, Not Rocket Science
Carolyn was right; this inability to focus on selling ice cream was LAME. Let's look at the point of the project: To make and then earn the most profit from selling your own flavor of ice cream. That is straight from the task sheet. Apex's problem wasn't that they didn't use sex to sell ice cream, it's that they didn't use anything to sell ice cream. With a product with such a cool flavor name like Red Velvet, would it have killed them to all wear at least one piece of red clothing? Or, as my mother pointed out to me on the phone today, "They could have tied red velvet ribbons in their hair." My mother is a brilliant creative mind. If she were on Season Three: The Boomers Strike Back, she would be a force. But she's an English teacher, so Trump doesn't have a job to offer her.
It's All About The Children
Has anyone else noticed that in these first two episodes, there's a bit of a juvenile theme? I mean, first toys for boys and now ice cream. But what I really want to talk about is why one of the contestants is a 12-year-old girl.
Actually, Stacy-with-a-Y seems to be emerging as a surprisingly strong player in this game. Sure, she's a bit shorter than the other women and should probably buy petite sizes instead of looking like she's borrowing clothing from her mother, but she has come up with some of Apex's better ideas (like the TKTS location), and she knows how to keep her mouth shut in the boardroom. In the Extended Boardroom Footage (EBF from now on), we actually see Trump ask Stacy a question and listen to her answer AND agree with her. Holy crap! I know people think she's Female Easy Target just like Rob was Male Easy Target, but I think she's going to be around for a while.
The Permit Question
Speaking of the TKTS location, did they need permits? Were they given information about whether they should have had permits? Should they have sought this information out? Did they all spend the day illegally selling ice cream on the streets of Manhattan? Why didn't they think about this beforehand? At the least, then Apex would have known how to respond to those permitted Haagen-Dazs purveyors.
The Incredible Growing Penis Woman
I don't have much to say about Pamela that hasn't already been said. I think she is intelligent, professional, well-spoken and sophisticated. (I would have been like, Caviar? Eeeww!) She's also not very likable. I think that her "hard edge" (as Carolyn aptly called it) could very well be her downfall. I mean, did you SEE her try to sell ice cream? You'd think she was giving out funeral programmes. She needs to learn her limitations so she doesn't get put in a position to have to sell. All that said, there's been a lot of footage of her, so maybe she's in for a fall.
Jennifer C. did a lot for her team, and it seemed pretty dumb of Ivana to pull her in. JC learned a very important lesson that day about herself and about how she needs to shut up when Trump isn't talking to her. Most importantly, she gained boardroom experience without being in direct jeopardy.
Bradford has been such a smug, self-congratulatory ass in both these episodes that it seemed totally natural for him to offer to waive his
The Latest Search Queries
It never gets old! And it never ceases to amaze me, every step of the way:
1. They type in this query into a search engine
2. This blog comes up as a result
3. They decide that this blog somehow actually has to do with their query.
butch lesbians manuals
blogspot.com guitar tequila
let me know your availability i-am-available
homemade grills on wheels for cooking
pictures of women in perm curlers
towelette vending machine
Well, if this wasn't a kinky lesbian site before, it is now.
Friday, September 17, 2004
Next Year's Resolution
I really should stop getting haircuts at Supercuts. Really, really. This decade-long dysfunctional relationship should be ended, posthaste.
I should have stopped in 1995, when I decided to get it cut to above my shoulders, and within an hour of returning to my dorm, I realized that it had been cut crooked, and I had to go back to get it leveled out.
And I should have ended it the second time it was cut unevenly, in 1999. I mean, I was in a different city, my hair was longer, but I dunno, fool me twice or something.
In 2003, at a different location, I was a little nervous when the woman cutting my hair was cross-eyed, but I figured they knew better than I. After all, this is a huge chain, right? They know what they're doing. But alas, no. The cross-eyed lady cut my hair crooked. I was the only one suprised, I think, and that's what makes me such an excellent Supercustomer.
This last time, a few weeks ago, I got a nice cut with a little layering, a little angling. Nothing new; I've had this cut before. But every few days, I find a lock that's about a half-inch longer than the rest. This can't be right, I think to myself, and YES. I DO. I cut the damn thing.
Please, stop gasping and crying and clawing at the screen in agony. Remember, it isn't brain surgery to improve on a Supercut. But I feel like this is the hair that has broken the camel's back, so to speak, and I will have to investigate the local non-Supercut alternatives.
Thursday, September 16, 2004
Every day, I sit at the computer, open up this page, and go through my links, Open[ing] In New Window[s]. Sometimes I am disappointed in how few blogs have been updated. These days, who am I to complain? See also: last post's date. I'm sure nobody's been wondering what the hell I've been doing since then, so I'ma gonna tell ya's.
Thursday: Beau and I went on a roadtrip to the nearest JCPenney's (over a half-hour away) to look at their purportedly large selection of curtains. Jean Luc Jacquard had proven too dark, and has been returned to Target. JCP had a very large selection, but not what we were looking for. The only way to get plain white cotton curtains would be to have them custom-made for $600+. Luckily, Sears had sheers for only $10 per panel, so we bought 4 in white and it worked out perfectly.
Friday: Cleaned apartment, mostly by putting away the crap I had left all over the place. At 8pm, Beau and I walked to the local town pond to watch fireworks from the comfort of our Crazy Creeks. Ok, mine's an EMS knockoff, but it still works.
Saturday: I went for a run! Go, me, with the exercise! The dishwasher also ran, which is also exciting.
Sunday: Dude, Sunday was HUGE. I did at least two loads of laundry, cleaned the kitchen, tidied the living and dining rooms, went grocery shopping, and topped off the night by unrolling the rugs and cleaning them with foam cleaner stuff.
Monday: Sent resumes to temp companies and applied for some jobs online. Did more laundry. In the afternoon, fell asleep while previewing a yoga dvd. They tell you to preview them, you know. But you aren't supposed to doze off.
Tuesday: Went for a run! Again! Hooray for me! Also, fielded calls from Office Pimp wherein they offered me crappy assignments and I turned them down. These assignments were so undesirable that the person calling me would start out the conversation with an apology. I know you aren't interested in reception, but... I know this isn't very exciting but... I just have to ask you and I'll understand if you say no...
Wednesday: Oh yeah, yesterday was hyuuuge. I did The Big Switch. Since all my clothing was clean, I figured it was The Right Time. So all the Fall/Winter clothing came down from the attic, and all the Spring/Summer was brought out of the closet for a day-long orgy of
-what goes in the closet
-what goes in the attic
-what doesn't fit but should be kept in case of weight gain or loss
-what gets donated
-what gets thrown away
-what gets kept in the closet, but in a box because maybe I'll want it, but maybe not, so let's not clutter up the stuff that I'd grab on a day-to-day basis but let's keep it accessible.
Items that fit into this last category include, for example, a thick-knit, dark-pink crewneck sweater I've had since seventh grade. It's roomy (oversized was in), but it's a classic design, so maybe I'll want to wear it. Also, it's the subject of this actual conversation I had with my best friend in seventh-grade:
Hey, I like your sweater, where'd you get it?
It's from Eddie Bauer.
Who's Eddie Bauer, and why did he give you his sweater?
How could I get rid of a sweater with that attached to it?
Wednesday, September 08, 2004
Do hives thighs lead to bees knees?
I think the bumps on the back of my thigh are hives, but it's just a guess. I'm also guessing that maybe they are from the piece of broccoli I snagged off Beau's shrimp dish the other night, since I have a shellfish allergy. But maybe it is from stress; I hear people get hives from stress. I haven't been feeling particularly stressed-out the past few days, but maybe not-feeling-stressed-out-and-getting-a-patch-of-hives-instead is just the latest in the many and various ways my body tries to manage the high base-level of life stress I have going for me.
Anyway, they've been there for a day or two now, and I finally read up on them over at webmd. Turns out, if it's hives, it's the weakest, lamest case of hives ever to last over 24 hours. Lucky me, I guess.
You know what would be so cool, would be if bees hatched out of the hives, but they weren't regular bees, they were special super-intelligent slave bees that would do my bidding for the few days of their brilliant existence.
Here are some of the tasks I would have my bee slaves do for me:
Pour me a glass of water from the Brita filter and bring it to me while I play Boggle on the internet.
Go find my glasses so I can watch TV.
Smite my enemies. (Or just raise a few welts on them.)
Dust the apartment.
Deliver copies of my resume to potential employers, because having my resume delivered by bees would totally make me stand out from the other candidates. How awesome would that be, to have my resume delivered by super-intelligent bees!
Mix me a vodka tonic.
Fold the laundry and put everything away properly.
Make honey. Faster, dammit! I want honey! Now!
Pick wildflowers from local fields and bring them back to the apartment and make little bouquets out of them.
Thursday, September 02, 2004
I. Hooray for Target!
Hooray #1 Between multiple trips to both Bed, Bath and Beyond AND Target on the mission to find curtains (at least four hours spent in the "curtain sections"), I finally found some that I think might work, assuming Beau likes them when he gets home. They are "sand" colored, and they are Jean Luc Jacquard. Oui! I think I will celebrate with some General Foods International Coffee.*
Hooray #2 Mr. Clean Magic Eraser. Holy crap. Best. Product. Ever.
In order to take down and put up the curtain rods for Jean Luc, I had to stand on a chair. It's a wooden chair, and I hit my ass on it on a blind dismount. I believe this will result in a small bruise, and it led me to consider that perhaps assbruise is the new asshat. Because really, asshat has become a bit passe.
But here is where it all comes together: When we were moving in and I carried the chair into the house, it scraped against the wall, and left a green paint scuff. Which I just erased with my Mr. Clean Magic Eraser!
See how it all comes together?
* The waiters!
Hooray for September!
September! hooray! Everything will be different now!
The past two days have been a bit cooler out, and it looks like some fall-type weather could blow through at any time. Hooray for not sweating all over the place! Hooray for non-revealing clothes! Hooray for sweaters! (It would be hooray for jeans, if they fit, but I dunno, maybe they got washed on high heat? Let's pretend they did.)
I'm even feeling the September hooray on the job front: the local temp office of Office Pimp finally received my file from the other office, hooray! And the other office had great things to say about me and now the woman I met with at this office is all excited about my file. She even called me a 'rock star', which is a bizarre slang for 'exceptional administrative candidate'. Anyway, I came in for a meet-n-greet, and ended up staying for over two hours in online testing which resulted in my certification as a Microsoft Office Specialist in Word and Excel. For free, hooray! I even have little certificates with (scanned) signatures of some Microsoft VP. Totally badass.
So, today was a good day. Even with the two hours of testing and skipping my morning coffee.