Come-Uppance

I like my car. My car takes me where I need to go, in a rattling, squeaky kind of way, but it gets me there. I talk nicely about my car often. I defend it when others say it's crappy or a deathtrap. It is not a deathtrap. It is a good car.

True, I neglect it sometimes. I do not change the oil as often as I should, I do not allow very adequate time for it to warm up in the morning, and I have not gotten around to finding out why the oil-pressure gauge flickers around like it does. It has never left me stranded on the side of the highway, though...only run out of gas suddenly from time to time, and that is mostly my fault anyway.

Perhaps my car harbors certain resentments toward me. I don't know. Perhaps it is angry that I never gave it a catchy-sounding car name like "the Beast" or "Big Red" or "Blaze the Amazing Thunder-Blazer." Perhaps that whole oil thing really is important to my car, and my car is now angry that I keep breaking my promise to go get that looked at. Perhaps my car was only fed shredded wheat as a child, when all he wanted was a sweet sweet taste of Lucky Charms, like all the other kids have for breakfast. I Dont Know.

All I know is that today, December 23, Christmas Eve Eve, my car has decided that it does not want to go to the grocery store or to Michaels or to CVS or to my sisters or to Philadelphia to see my friends who I haven't seen in four months. My car has decided that it would, in fact, prefer not.


I could really use a circle of singing Whos over here...

Outgoing Loot

I'm proud of my pile of outgoing loot. Iron Prudentilla Bonney (my pirate self) came out to play this season. She pillaged the surrounding villages good. She kicked ass, took names, and then wrote those names on cute little gift tags and placed those gift tags at angles carefully chosen in relation to the bows and ribbons.

Behold! many things I would love but cannot justify buying for myself:

And yes, the paper and ribbons are color-coded according to family/person.

Anxiety

(n): the emotion that makes it impossible to pee fast enough when one realizes that one has left the door to the only bathroom in the office unlocked, and that the door is ten feet away; entirely too far to even stop the door from swinging open, should a coworker decide to burst in.

Over del rio and through del bosque

This weekend, Bethany and I ventured into the South (i.e., historic Fredrick, Maryland) for a visit with her family. We were put up in the Hill House, an awesome B n' B, where we stayed in "the Mexican Room." I. Loved. It.

The room had all of these cool little details, like handpainted mirror frames and awesome punched-aluminum light fixtures. There was art all over the walls, such as my favorite, Lady Godiva:

ain't she purty?

Behold! The Scary Mexican Aminals:

We call the bunny on the right the "Anya Bunny," in honor of Anya from Buffy. We now know why she fears bunnies.

Behold! The Friendly Mexican Green Cat Of DOOM!!! You want one. I know I do.

Obligatory Skelliton Mariachi Band:

Aren't they festive? Boy howdy, those dead Mexicans musicians sure know how to have fun!

I was particularly impressed with the HUGE bathroom. I mean, LOOK:

How. Cool. Is. That. So cool. (After poking around the rest of the B n B, I discovered that most of the rooms have some sort of chaise lounge in them. Note to self: grow up rich, obtain chaise lounge for foot of bed, bathroom, hallway, etc.)

And on the lounge

there was a pillow. And on the pillow there was nude bathers. And on the bathers, there were tiny cloth naughty bits.

Yep, those are boobies.

And the best part of all...

So, who has two thumbs and loves bubble baths from 11:30pm til 12:15am?

You guessed it....This guy.

I had to seize the opportunity. I mean, sure, someday I might live in a house huge enough to have tastefully decorated themed rooms, and one of the rooms might closely resemble this one, and might have a bathtub as big or bigger than this, but how do I know when that will be? Huh? My giant bathtub of love and bubbles could be years...or decades away! I thought the occasion called for a complimentary shot of sherry or four and a two hour soak.

Nude, bathing

Oh yeah. Thats the goods.

Office Haiku #2

Bright plastic pre-lit
Christmas trees are flamable
Office cheer for all

Translation: (If I hear that damn douchebag Josh Grobans douchy Christmas song one more freaking time, I am going to photocopy my ass and send 101 individually postmarked copies to B101 and everyone at their douchy Christmas-music playing station. I'll give them something to just believe...grumble grumble grumble...)

You Ain't Shit if You Don't Knit

As those of you who know me know, I have recently decided that knitting is where it's at, and that all should tremble before the power of my needles. TREMBLE!!

I learned how to knit a few months ago, and proceeded to dump more money into this damn hobby than any hobby before. More than pastels, more than fancy-pillow-making, even more than bronze. I rationalize my spending with the fact that the fruits of my labor are getting wrapped up in nice, pretty Christmas paper and given away. I don't see it as too many dollars spent on wads of Baby Alpaca fuzz and aluminum chopsticks. No. I see it as significant credit card debt in the name of BABY JESUS. Baby Jesus supports my art. Baby Jesus thinks knitting is the bomb.

Baby Jesus knows that...

...only the coolest kids wear fuzzy hats with earflaps.

And if Baby Jesus doesn't know it, my sister will. Or, she will at least act appropriately impressed with this freakish set of fuzzy white accessoria.

Office Haiku #1

At my desk I sit
A racoon in your tractor
Slowly drags the day

Confessions of an Ineffective Quitter

I thought I had effectively quit my mall job. I really did. I thought that giving two weeks notice meant that, at the end of two more weeks of work, one was no longer expected to show up.

Imagine my surprise when I arrive to work on Saturday, my last day, to find that I was somehow scheduled for the following (this) week. "but...but," I whimpered to myself, "but....I quit!" The customers kept rolling in, however, and there was no time to seek explanation. Customer after crazed customer approached the counter, bringing their purchases and their money and their obligatory distain for lowly cashiers such as myself.

Crazed shopper #1: What does this microbeam do that the other ones don't do?

Lowly cashier: It blinks red as well as providing a blinding blue light for your keychain. But the batteries are old, so you can't really see it.

Crazed shopper #1: Ok, I see that the red blinks, but what else?

Lowly cashier: There is usually a blue light. The batteries are dying, so you can't really see it.

Crazed shopper #1: Uh huh...wait, where did the blinking light go? It's not off, but nothing is happening!

Lowly cashier: You have it set on the blue light, but nothing is happening, as the batteries are dead.

Crazed shopper #1: (*tosses microbeam to the counter sullenly*) I guess everything in this store is cheap crap.

Assistant Manager Bryan, passing through, glances at the schedule: Hey, I thought you quit.
Lowly cashier: I thought I effectively quit. Apparantly it didn't stick. And you have a big forehead.

Crazed shopper #2: I need these gloves in a Large. (*hands me two sets of gloves*)
Lowly cashier: Both of them?
Crazed shopper #2: (*sigh*) Nooooo, I want to own those, and I need those in a Large. (pointing)
Lowly cashier: Ok, I'll go look for these, you hang on to those so I don't loose them (*attempts to hand the shopper the gloves that he wants to own*)
Crazed shopper #2: *blink* *blink* (*gives look to wife that clearly states, 'what is with this girl?? Doesn't she know that I don't carry things??'*)
Lowly cashier: Ok, here you go...you....hold them(*thrusts the must-own gloves into his limp hands*)
Crazed shopper #2: (*flings gloves at wife in discust*)
Lowly cashier: Or she can hold them. Whatever.

Bryan: (*sarcasm*) You know, I'll miss you when you're gone. I will.
Lowly cashier: No, Bryan, I'll miss you. You and you're girly eyelashes.
Bryan: Well, at least I'm not ineffective.
Lowly cashier: Bryan, you complete me.

Crazed shopper #3: Wait, I need a gift receipt!

Lowly cashier: I'm sorry, but I would have had to put that into the register before the transaction.

Crazed shopper #3: What do you mean, before the transaction?? I need a gift receipt now!

Lowly cashier: I'm sorry, ma'am, but you have to ask for that before I ring you up, as indicated by the big bold sign, not two inches from your face.

Crazed shopper #3: Weeell, I still need a gift receipt!!!

Lowly cashier: Weeeell, you can return the items and then re-buy them with a gift receipt, but I'd have to get a manager over here.

Crazed shopper #3: THAT'S JUST LUDICRIS!!! YOU SHOULD ASK EVERYONE IF THEY NEED A GIFT RECEIPT!!!!

Randy, passing through and cranking up the Christmas tunes: How's it going, crew??

*Hark how the bells*

Lowly cashier: Randy, I'm not coming in tomorrow, just thought you should know.

*Sweet silver bells*

Randy, walking away from me: Oh yeah, why's that??

*All seem to say*

Lowly cashier: Because I quit.

*Throw cares away*

Randy, still walking: What was that?

*Christmas is here*

Lowly cashier: I quit, Randy, two weeks ago!

*Bringing good cheer*

Randy, over his shoulder: Sorry, didn't catch that!

*To young and old*

Lowly cashier: I QUIT!!!

Bryan: SHE QUIT!!!!

*Meek and the bold*

Lowly cashier: Thanks for the assist. You're a peach. A fuzzy peach bottom. That's what you are.

Bryan: Aww...thats sweet. And freaking me out. Is it really that bad here? All....three weeks you've been working here?

Lowly cashier: Two months. Two soul-sucking months of my life that I will never get back.

Bryan: Wow. That's harsh. I've been working here for more than a year, and I don't hate it that much.

Lowly cashier: Well, Bryan, you have no soul.

Bryan: I thought I was a fuzzy peach bottom.

Lowly cashier: That too. But soul-less. You can't help it. I don't hold it against you.

Random customer: I suspect he has a soul....

Lowly cashier: No. He doesn't.

Soon after, my quitting was made more effective. And there was rejoicing throughout the land.

Grandpa

My dad visited for Thanksgiving. We had a few short, but nice visits while he was here. He got to meet his grandson, and for the first time ever, my sister had all three of her Eds in the same room. At this point, I think it would be really funny for her to have another kid and name it Ed too. I mean, why stop at three? We could have a whole Ed army. A whole Ed state! The Importence of Being Ed, the MUSICAL!!!

Behold, Ed and Ed, contemplating one another's existence:



I also expounded upon the greatness and versitility of the phrase "holy fuckballs" during this visit. Ah, family...

Symboligysm

This boot represents my dad:

It is his inner cowboy. Yes, yes. I know that he was born and raised in Philadelphia. City kids can have inner cowboys. I mean, if I can have an inner writer/actress/mountain climber/folk singer quadruple threat, my dad can certainly have a cowboy.
:-)

The Mouths of Babes

Recent conversation between me and Erin the 10 year old

Me: so, how old is your little brother now?
Erin: He's two. He's *this* tall. (holds hand about waist level, indicating the tallness of said two year old)
Me: Wow, he's going to be a big guy. Maybe he'll play football or something.
Erin: Nope. No sports. My mom said so.
Me: Oh yeah? Why's that.
Erin: I don't know. My mom just said he's not going to be a pitcher or a catcher.
Me: ......
Erin: What? What's funny? Where are you going??

I Am A Consumer Whore

(And How!)

Look, I will only ever have a first nephew once in my life. He might be the only nephew I ever have!! And sure, I never set foot in a Gap before, and now, due to Baby Gap and their cruel, cruel allure of freakish cuteness, I have a Gap card in my wallet. Selling my soul is worth it! I dont care!! why?? Because of THIS:

Something about an infant (this infant) makes me want to spend exhorbitant amounts of money. I redeem my consumer whorishness by telling you that I had a coupon for $15 off this sued-esque, faux sherpa lined jacket for infants aged 6-12 mos, 17-25 lbs, and that I received a $15 gift card toward a future purchase. I will not, however, tell you how much it cost in the first place. You just might puke all over the jacket. IT'S NEW! HE HASN'T EVEN HAD A CHANCE TO WEAR IT!!!

And yes, that tag in front says MACHINE WASHABLE!!

Mall Staff...With a Vengeance

While ringing up random overpriced electronic novelty items the other day, it occured to me that my coworkers and I would make up a perfect ensemble cast to some cheap Summer action flick:

NICK-young, enthusiastic Italian stereotype who curses with creativity; dreams of someday becoming a NY cop

RANDY-snippy gay store manager; control freak

JILLIAN-sassy thirty-something black lady who writes scripts and raises funds for the Louis Armstrong Foundation; body builder (actually hauls massage chairs around the stock room for us)

HERTHA-spry 82 year old actual Holocaust survivor; often gets worried about loosing her job and roams around the store calling herself "the wandering Jew"

JOHN-uptight, ultra square middle aged guy who probably still lives with his mom; likely to crack really lame jokes, suggest giving ourselves up, and (later in the flick) yell "we're all gonna die! game over, man!" and panick when we are supposed to be hiding, thus drawing attention to us all

BRYAN-average Joe type, wholesome, but not so wholesome as to become cloying or to have no sense of humor; good candidate for love interest

For lack of Hollywood connections that would enable them to cast some big name lead for this movie, they cast me. Sure, there is never any real lead in ensemble casts, thats what makes them "ensemble." But there are always a few characters that you immediately peg as most likely to survive this movie, and so in your mind, they become the leads. I choose me, and possibly Bryan.

Ultra square John will stick around just long enough to become a liability in a chase scene, or to sell us out to the bad guys, then get killed because he panicks and runs when he should wait and hide. The presence of Hertha will inevitably compound our situation, because she cannot swim through underground waterways or scale rock walls or jump from one moving car to another. We might even fight amongst ourselves over whether to go the long way or just leave her behind and go the short (but non-senior citizen friendly) way. Nick, John, and Randy will want to leave her behind. I of course will defend the sweet old lady and stay behind when everyone else wants to ditch her. I mean, she survived the HOLOCAUST, PEOPLE!!! When I say this, Bryan will sigh, exasperated, and say "ok, well I'm staying too." This will endear him to me and inspire me to kiss him later in the movie just before we do something dangerous. Jillian will offer to stay as well. Because she is so usefull, what with her freakish upper-body strength, everyone else will want to go with us then. I'll let Jillian live for this, and because she is just so darn sassy.

Maybe I will let John live, because, now that I think about it, Randy is much more likely to sell us out to the bad guys. But maybe I only think that because of the corporate sell-out stench that he exudes. (sell-out) Maybe John will discover Randy's part in our plight, and Randy will kill John. In any event, I think John dies. And Randy. Maybe Nick kills Randy. Perhaps Nick is an ex of mine, who in a majorly redeeming act, sacrifices himself near the end of the movie so that the rest of us can get away.

My point is, Bryan has a sexy tush. I don't think I'll ever have any pretext to squeeze it, unless the mall were suddenly beset by zombies or terrorists or simultaneous tornadoes and blizards or we were all stranded in an underground tunnel cave-in.