I feel like such a new adult.
I got my first overdraft charge today. Actually I got two. Because of course the check I sent off to pay my power bill would go through on the same day they ran my charge from the bar. Eff! Yeah, yeah, I know I'm four years old. Fuck woman, just say fuck already! I mean, shit, don't be such a pussy ass bitch!
Hehe, I hope that gets me some fun google hits, or, you know, any at all. No, just kidding. I know you're out there Italian readers. Hi! Or, ciao, rather. Ciao!
Yeah, that's right, betcha didn't know I speak Italian. And by speak Italian I mean went to Italy for a month and can ask how much something costs but can't understand the answer. Numbers baffle me in every language.
What was the point of this post? Oh yeah, overdrafting. Actually (watch me tie this all together now) I originally got overdraft protection with my bank just in case I pulled too much out of the Italian ATMs. There's no way of telling the exchange rate when you remove cash and I didn't have a whole lot of access to the internet.
Umm... I'm going to talk more about Italy later. Meaning probably never unless someone reminds me. I think I'll chalk this post up to a fail due to watching stupid movies on the internet. This one's on you, House Bunny.
God that's a funny movie. Oh hey, God. That's something to talk about.
Um, believe in God children, for he will give you cake. Right? That's how it goes, right? Aw fuck, I'm going to Hell. I hear they have good cake!
...
I have overdraft protection now. There, everything's resolved.
Tuesday, June 30, 2009
Monday, June 29, 2009
There's Bacon-Wrapped Pork in Paradise
Aha! I finally have a non-work post!
So I was at work today, and...
No, just kidding. Anyway. I got home from work today (my first day of dealing with customers, yay! Sorry, had to sneak that in there) and I opened my apartment door only to walk into not my apartment.
While I was at work today The Boy, That Fabulous Fiance of Mine worked on our apartment. A lot. We're talking furniture that didn't exist before and some previously existing furniture in new places and/or rooms AND (I can't believe there's an and) dishes AND (again!) laundry! Holy crapmonkeys*!
Oh, and he cooked dinner for me. How amazing is that? Ladies, if you're reading, stop looking for the perfect man, because I've found him and there's no way I'm sharing.
My goal is to sort and fold all the laundry and eat the dinner he so lovingly prepared so that I'm pulling my own weight in this house. Eating counts as a chore, right? Mmm bacon-wrapped pork. :)
*These are the monkeys who throw crap. According to me. Right now.
So I was at work today, and...
No, just kidding. Anyway. I got home from work today (my first day of dealing with customers, yay! Sorry, had to sneak that in there) and I opened my apartment door only to walk into not my apartment.
While I was at work today The Boy, That Fabulous Fiance of Mine worked on our apartment. A lot. We're talking furniture that didn't exist before and some previously existing furniture in new places and/or rooms AND (I can't believe there's an and) dishes AND (again!) laundry! Holy crapmonkeys*!
Oh, and he cooked dinner for me. How amazing is that? Ladies, if you're reading, stop looking for the perfect man, because I've found him and there's no way I'm sharing.
My goal is to sort and fold all the laundry and eat the dinner he so lovingly prepared so that I'm pulling my own weight in this house. Eating counts as a chore, right? Mmm bacon-wrapped pork. :)
*These are the monkeys who throw crap. According to me. Right now.
Wednesday, June 24, 2009
I promise that not all my posts will be about work
I really wish I could say I was rocking this job so far, but the truth is I have no idea. So far we've been given a truckload of information and I've taken a bunch of notes, but that's not how I best learn. I also haven't gotten to do any role playing yet, so maybe when I do I'll get a better idea of how much info I've retained. But I can't wait until next week, when we actually get to take a (supervised) crack at talking to customers!
Tuesday, June 23, 2009
Sleeping with a She-Bear
My first day of work left me completely exhausted; I fell into bed at about ten. According to The Boy, he woke me up when he got home to start up some sexy time (as requested) and was met with an angry sleepy bear. We had the following conversation (or something like it):
TB: *kiss kiss kiss*
J: *puts hand over Boy's face*
TB: *kiss kiss kiss*
J: *puts hand back on boy's face and pushes even less than half-heartedly*
TB: Honey? You said you wanted to have The Sex.
J: shhnarggle mmmph
TB: Do you not want to have The Sex?
J: mmmph mrrg
TB: Okay, well I'm going to leave you alone then.
J: nnnoh
TB: What was that?
J: ehhhh shhhed nnnoh
Ten Minutes Later (after many more questions and garbled responses*)
I sat up and swung my feet to the floor, needing (apparently) to pee. I sat there for a minute then slowly tipped sideways until I was laying down again, only now my head was at the wrong end. I then proceeded to snuggle his leg through the covers.**
J: ahhm cohwde
TB: What?
J: cohwde. winnoh opennn.
TB: The window is already open.
J: ahh knnnohh. iss cohwde.
TB: So come back up here and get under the covers.
J: kayyy. haf to pee.
I got up and peed with the door open*** and came back to bed, this time laying the right way. Here's where I start to remember things, although they're a bit fuzzy. I also became more coherent. I believe The Boy had shut the window.
J: It's cold.
TB: I know. Get under the covers.
J: Ugh; hot. Open the window.
TB: But I thought you were cold.
J: Covers hot. Window?
He rolled over to reach for the window.
J: Don't go!
TB: I'm just opening the window.
J: Ohhh kay.
He opened the window (or just opened it more; I'm still not clear on this). He slid down into the covers again and I snuggled up to him.
J: Sexy time? *snore*
It has to be said that I never once opened my eyes during any of this. I remember the later stuff (kind of) and am basing the rest off of what he told me this morning at the butt crack of dawn, which most likely means none of it is accurate (come on, did you see how tired I was last night? can you even imagine me this morning?).
Today I'm not so tired, but Tuesday is his hard (read: impossible) day at work, so I doubt there will be sexy time tonight. My prediction is coming tragically closer and closer to fulfillment. Pity me.
*I think The Boy may have been amusing himself at my expense.
**Allegedly. I don't remember any of this.
***I NEVER do this. I can't even pee in public restrooms if there's someone else in the room. Yes, I know I'm a freak.
TB: *kiss kiss kiss*
J: *puts hand over Boy's face*
TB: *kiss kiss kiss*
J: *puts hand back on boy's face and pushes even less than half-heartedly*
TB: Honey? You said you wanted to have The Sex.
J: shhnarggle mmmph
TB: Do you not want to have The Sex?
J: mmmph mrrg
TB: Okay, well I'm going to leave you alone then.
J: nnnoh
TB: What was that?
J: ehhhh shhhed nnnoh
Ten Minutes Later (after many more questions and garbled responses*)
I sat up and swung my feet to the floor, needing (apparently) to pee. I sat there for a minute then slowly tipped sideways until I was laying down again, only now my head was at the wrong end. I then proceeded to snuggle his leg through the covers.**
J: ahhm cohwde
TB: What?
J: cohwde. winnoh opennn.
TB: The window is already open.
J: ahh knnnohh. iss cohwde.
TB: So come back up here and get under the covers.
J: kayyy. haf to pee.
I got up and peed with the door open*** and came back to bed, this time laying the right way. Here's where I start to remember things, although they're a bit fuzzy. I also became more coherent. I believe The Boy had shut the window.
J: It's cold.
TB: I know. Get under the covers.
J: Ugh; hot. Open the window.
TB: But I thought you were cold.
J: Covers hot. Window?
He rolled over to reach for the window.
J: Don't go!
TB: I'm just opening the window.
J: Ohhh kay.
He opened the window (or just opened it more; I'm still not clear on this). He slid down into the covers again and I snuggled up to him.
J: Sexy time? *snore*
It has to be said that I never once opened my eyes during any of this. I remember the later stuff (kind of) and am basing the rest off of what he told me this morning at the butt crack of dawn, which most likely means none of it is accurate (come on, did you see how tired I was last night? can you even imagine me this morning?).
Today I'm not so tired, but Tuesday is his hard (read: impossible) day at work, so I doubt there will be sexy time tonight. My prediction is coming tragically closer and closer to fulfillment. Pity me.
*I think The Boy may have been amusing himself at my expense.
**Allegedly. I don't remember any of this.
***I NEVER do this. I can't even pee in public restrooms if there's someone else in the room. Yes, I know I'm a freak.
Sunday, June 21, 2009
No Time for Nookie
Tomorrow is my first day of work. Technically it's my first day of a two-week training period, but I get paid for it, so it counts. Unfortunately, the hours for training (and possibly my shift; we'll see) kind of suck. And by kind of suck I mean they're completely normal, but don't mesh well at all with The Boy's hours. In fact, I get off half an hour before he has to start work. Also, I have to be there early, which means I'm going to go to bed early, before The Boy even gets home.
I knew that we wouldn't be seeing much of each other the next couple of weeks, but I hadn't really thought about it until today. I mean, I knew we wouldn't get to hang out or eat together or anything, but I just realized what this scheduling conflict really means: when are we going to have time for sex?!
I am a sad, sad girl.
I knew that we wouldn't be seeing much of each other the next couple of weeks, but I hadn't really thought about it until today. I mean, I knew we wouldn't get to hang out or eat together or anything, but I just realized what this scheduling conflict really means: when are we going to have time for sex?!
I am a sad, sad girl.
Daddy's Nerdy Girl
It's Father's Day and this year I managed to remember to call my dad. That sounds bad, but I'm actually super close with my him. My parents divorced before I was old enough to remember them being together, and I went to live with my dad.
It was just the two of us for awhile, and step-mom number one was merely a brief interlude, although she did bring my dog home from the pound for which she gets bonus points, not that it matters. Step-mom number two didn't come on the scene until late in high school, so she doesn't really count, except at holidays.
Anyway, my dad was my best friend; he talked to me like an adult and basically shaped who I am. There was no way I wasn't going to become a daddy's girl, although in this case it was more like daddy's nerdy girl who rides ATVs and reads comic books.
Which is why I called him back later with some useless trivia from our favorite sci-fi show like a good daughter.
It was just the two of us for awhile, and step-mom number one was merely a brief interlude, although she did bring my dog home from the pound for which she gets bonus points, not that it matters. Step-mom number two didn't come on the scene until late in high school, so she doesn't really count, except at holidays.
Anyway, my dad was my best friend; he talked to me like an adult and basically shaped who I am. There was no way I wasn't going to become a daddy's girl, although in this case it was more like daddy's nerdy girl who rides ATVs and reads comic books.
Which is why I called him back later with some useless trivia from our favorite sci-fi show like a good daughter.
Saturday, June 20, 2009
Another Lazy Day
Tomorrow is my last day before becoming a working girl, and I don't mean a hooker. Sadly. Wait, what?
I spent most of today reading and laying about the house reveling in my last hours of freedom. 341 pages later, I am out of book. It's really sad; the one I just finished was eighth in a series that I've been reading these last two weeks, and now I won't visit those characters again for a long time.
Reading is like that, particularly when the author is good at their job. You fall in love with a character or characters but the book must come to an end. When it does you feel like you've lost a good friend, or at least that they have moved away to a place with no internet or cell reception (because honestly, who uses snail mail anymore?).
Maybe that's why I'm a writer. As of yet I am unpublished, so I have always known the freedom to revisit my characters whenever I chose, adding more to the chronicle of their lives and fiddling with the minutiae of their selves. But I also feel more fulfilled when I come to know a character written by someone else; it's almost as if I'm meeting a real person. I can't predict what they will do or change aspects of their past to suit myself, and thus the relationship is more two-sided.
Or maybe I'm just crazy.
I spent most of today reading and laying about the house reveling in my last hours of freedom. 341 pages later, I am out of book. It's really sad; the one I just finished was eighth in a series that I've been reading these last two weeks, and now I won't visit those characters again for a long time.
Reading is like that, particularly when the author is good at their job. You fall in love with a character or characters but the book must come to an end. When it does you feel like you've lost a good friend, or at least that they have moved away to a place with no internet or cell reception (because honestly, who uses snail mail anymore?).
Maybe that's why I'm a writer. As of yet I am unpublished, so I have always known the freedom to revisit my characters whenever I chose, adding more to the chronicle of their lives and fiddling with the minutiae of their selves. But I also feel more fulfilled when I come to know a character written by someone else; it's almost as if I'm meeting a real person. I can't predict what they will do or change aspects of their past to suit myself, and thus the relationship is more two-sided.
Or maybe I'm just crazy.
Bad Dreams
Do you ever have those dreams where to wake up still feeling the same emotions you felt in your dream?
Last night Dream The Boy conspired with Dream Mom to send me back to high school, with my nicotine addicted degenerate of a Dream Sister. (My real sister is actually a goody-goody, and I love her for it. Means I don't have to threaten the boys that want in her pants, because she can do it herself.)
But yeah, they were in cahoots. And I woke up feeling bitter and betrayed. Ick.
Last night Dream The Boy conspired with Dream Mom to send me back to high school, with my nicotine addicted degenerate of a Dream Sister. (My real sister is actually a goody-goody, and I love her for it. Means I don't have to threaten the boys that want in her pants, because she can do it herself.)
But yeah, they were in cahoots. And I woke up feeling bitter and betrayed. Ick.
Friday, June 19, 2009
My Day with The Boy
The Boy had today -yesterday now, I guess- off so I actually put on real clothes and left the house.
We took the Max downtown and went to our two favorite downtown places: Powell's and the place near Powell's with all the awesome ethnic food stands. After some delicious fish tacos we went around the back of Powell's to go in the super secret entrance that only VIPs know about (aka the Orange Room entrance) and directly to the sell back books counter. Yes that's what it's called. Shush.
See, we're both big readers and last week we unpacked our six (six! joy!) boxes of books. And then we alphabetized them. It does my nerdy anal retentive heart good. Anyway, we had a few double copies, thus the back door.
Of Powell's, you dirty minded people! (Again with the believing someone reads this; ha!)
Did you know that you get an extra 20% when you take store credit instead of cash? Yeah... we spent it all and then some. Whoops! :)
We came home and The Boy tried one of his culinary experiments: salmon, avocado, and cream cheese filled pasta shells. It was okay, but could have been better. Meh; that's what experimentation is for.
And then we saw Star Trek. For a nerd I know astonishingly little about Star Trek, but I had heard that movie Kirk and movie Spock were sexy. They were okay, but why did no one tell me about Scotty??? Man I'm a sucker for accents.
We took the Max downtown and went to our two favorite downtown places: Powell's and the place near Powell's with all the awesome ethnic food stands. After some delicious fish tacos we went around the back of Powell's to go in the super secret entrance that only VIPs know about (aka the Orange Room entrance) and directly to the sell back books counter. Yes that's what it's called. Shush.
See, we're both big readers and last week we unpacked our six (six! joy!) boxes of books. And then we alphabetized them. It does my nerdy anal retentive heart good. Anyway, we had a few double copies, thus the back door.
Of Powell's, you dirty minded people! (Again with the believing someone reads this; ha!)
Did you know that you get an extra 20% when you take store credit instead of cash? Yeah... we spent it all and then some. Whoops! :)
We came home and The Boy tried one of his culinary experiments: salmon, avocado, and cream cheese filled pasta shells. It was okay, but could have been better. Meh; that's what experimentation is for.
And then we saw Star Trek. For a nerd I know astonishingly little about Star Trek, but I had heard that movie Kirk and movie Spock were sexy. They were okay, but why did no one tell me about Scotty??? Man I'm a sucker for accents.
Thursday, June 18, 2009
My Anchor
I don't think I've mentioned this yet, so I will now. I'm not from around here.
Oh, I'm an Oregonian alright, but my hometown is about as far as you can get from Portland without stranding yourself in the desert.
Since I was old enough to understand that my town had very little to offer in the way of entertainment (other than the production of meth, which I've heard is jolly good times!*) I've wanted out. College was a start, but I had no idea what to do after that; what excuse could I use post-graduation to stay out?
Not only is my town boring as all get out (and the meth capitol of Oregon, whoopee!**) but it's also a great sucking whirlpool, a veritable Charybdis pulling in its victims like helpless ships on the tides of... whatever. Metaphor fail. (literature reference win!) The point is, once you're out you're still not free. If you turn your back on the eddying maelstrom even for a minute it can suck you back in. The only way to escape this is to find something to anchor you to the outside world, so that no matter how hard the current pulls, your anchor will keep you safe.
Enter The Boy.
Disclaimer: for all of you reading at home (ha! I think people might eventually read this. Aren't I cute?) with weak stomach or just more than your share of bitterness and cynicism, you might not want to go any further. I tend to get kind of mushy when I talk about the Love of My Life. :)
Anyway.
Enter The Boy (as he will herein be referred to based on my anticipation that I will one day want to whinge about him or reveal his innermost secrets or something). Typical story: we were friends, I got drunk and molested him on the back porch, we fell in love, yada yada. Actually the story is a lot sexier than that. Maybe I'll tell it some time.
So it's my senior year of college, and here I've got this wonderful boyfriend who, let's face it, I just kind of stumbled upon. Unexpected, unsolicited, completely unlivewithoutable. One day we're hanging out and I casually say something like, "Hey, maybe we should like, live together or something. Whatever," because, you know, I'm a valley girl. His response was calm, collected; my man played it cool like always. "Hell yes!"
Or something like that.
Wow, this has gotten way off topic. Um, The Boy is the anchor I need to keep from getting sucked back into the black hole (yes, I switched metaphors) that is my hometown. There.
*Actually I've never heard this. I can't imagine it's true.
**Not something to be proud of, but still. We have the most awful commercials basically confirming this fact. "The first time can kill you." No, but really: meth is bad.
Oh, I'm an Oregonian alright, but my hometown is about as far as you can get from Portland without stranding yourself in the desert.
Since I was old enough to understand that my town had very little to offer in the way of entertainment (other than the production of meth, which I've heard is jolly good times!*) I've wanted out. College was a start, but I had no idea what to do after that; what excuse could I use post-graduation to stay out?
Not only is my town boring as all get out (and the meth capitol of Oregon, whoopee!**) but it's also a great sucking whirlpool, a veritable Charybdis pulling in its victims like helpless ships on the tides of... whatever. Metaphor fail. (literature reference win!) The point is, once you're out you're still not free. If you turn your back on the eddying maelstrom even for a minute it can suck you back in. The only way to escape this is to find something to anchor you to the outside world, so that no matter how hard the current pulls, your anchor will keep you safe.
Enter The Boy.
Disclaimer: for all of you reading at home (ha! I think people might eventually read this. Aren't I cute?) with weak stomach or just more than your share of bitterness and cynicism, you might not want to go any further. I tend to get kind of mushy when I talk about the Love of My Life. :)
Anyway.
Enter The Boy (as he will herein be referred to based on my anticipation that I will one day want to whinge about him or reveal his innermost secrets or something). Typical story: we were friends, I got drunk and molested him on the back porch, we fell in love, yada yada. Actually the story is a lot sexier than that. Maybe I'll tell it some time.
So it's my senior year of college, and here I've got this wonderful boyfriend who, let's face it, I just kind of stumbled upon. Unexpected, unsolicited, completely unlivewithoutable. One day we're hanging out and I casually say something like, "Hey, maybe we should like, live together or something. Whatever," because, you know, I'm a valley girl. His response was calm, collected; my man played it cool like always. "Hell yes!"
Or something like that.
Wow, this has gotten way off topic. Um, The Boy is the anchor I need to keep from getting sucked back into the black hole (yes, I switched metaphors) that is my hometown. There.
*Actually I've never heard this. I can't imagine it's true.
**Not something to be proud of, but still. We have the most awful commercials basically confirming this fact. "The first time can kill you." No, but really: meth is bad.
Wednesday, June 17, 2009
On Trying
I've been out of school for seventeen days now (yes, I'm the kind of girl to count) and I feel like I've done nothing productive. After some half-assed job hunting I actually managed to discover a job I really really wanted.
Typical me, I was afraid to really try for it, thinking that if I tried my hardest and failed that meant I was a failure. I did... ok on the phone interview (my first) and was... average at the in-person group interview (so weird) and then the recruiter asked me to write an email about why we thought the job was "a good fit for me". I wrote the shit out of that email.
Honestly, I think that's the only thing that saved me, because she called me back and offered me the position. I start Monday.
The moral of the story? I don't know. How about: a last ditch effort can save the day?
Typical me, I was afraid to really try for it, thinking that if I tried my hardest and failed that meant I was a failure. I did... ok on the phone interview (my first) and was... average at the in-person group interview (so weird) and then the recruiter asked me to write an email about why we thought the job was "a good fit for me". I wrote the shit out of that email.
Honestly, I think that's the only thing that saved me, because she called me back and offered me the position. I start Monday.
The moral of the story? I don't know. How about: a last ditch effort can save the day?
New to This
I've been creeping on the blogosphere for awhile now, and I think it's about time to jump on this wagon. Just... excuse me... let me move... can I get some help here?... this trombone case. There. Nice and comfy. Hey! Don't you poke me with that piccolo.
There. Officially on the band wagon.
There. Officially on the band wagon.
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