Fresh Baked

Wednesday, December 29, 2004

T- 49.28

Kiddies, I am taking my really big Christmas beer and heading out to Phoenix for the New Year festivities. Hope you all have a splendid one, full of friends and loved ones and kisses at midnight. Be smart, be safe, be good-- and I'll see ya in '05

I've Even Counted to 10

I have held myself together fairly well I think. I haven't cried or hit anyone so I think that justifies me as being cool and calm about the situation. But now? I am very, very angry. I AM ANGRY. There. That was a good start.

Does everyone remember how I didn't sleep for weeks on end? Because I was in school and I wanted to do well? I feel those were hours spent well awake since, for the most part, I did do well. 4 As are good, but see... there's this teacher... we'll call him
'He with the bad back who has come back to bite she who was the smart-ass in the butt.' That jackhole has given me a C-. Scuzi? Scuzi?? How the... what the... I was at a loss when I read it. Because... Oh, hell no, thats not right. So I sent him an email to which he didn't respond for a week and then another to which he responded with this little gem, which probably won't seem as upsetting to you as it is to me, in which case I advise you to read it like you're a very stupid person who is very tiring, indeed (which we all know isn't true, but this guy begs to differ):

After Christmas, I will again check the records. I am suspecting that my records show you as not having all analyses/discussion questions (which accounts for the "-" portion)*. Likewise, my records will likely
not have up to Skill Exercise 6 shown**.

I will double-check. If this is the case (and not a straight data-entry error), I will ask to see your Progress Tracker (which I advised you to keep in case of just such an event***) to confirm that my records are wrong.

Much love,
Professor Dillhole


To which I say, "You, sir, are an ASS."

* I am missing 1. Out of a total of 11. If that counts for me getting the -? I am going to be angry.

**It's done and checked off. I even stood next to him as he checked it off in his records. Yup, ANGRY.

*** ANGRIER. Please note that on the Progress Tracker (™ Asshat) there were 4 exercises, tests, and other assignments scratched out because he was asking for an unreasonable amount of work to be done. Also note that out of a class of 25 students, there were 2 (two!/dos!/zwei!/due!) who were going to get an A. ...or, in light of recent events, so they thought. Also, again, 2/25? Lower the bar, dude. Also, again, again, it's after Christmas already-- I need an answer.


...pausing to exhale...



I feel a little better now. Thank you for letting me rant.


Tuesday, December 28, 2004

I Got the Fever, Baby.

YAY! Christmas! 'Twas fun. I got a cheese grater and a really big beer. Oh, and a fire extinguisher. Because nothing says holiday cheer like the thought of you having to avoid incineration. I hope everyone else had a holly jolly, too. And that you got pretty presents having nothing to do with fire.

In the days since Christmas, I haven't done much. Our office is closed until after the new year and school is out until the week after that so I have a bucket of time on my hands. And while I'm really happy to not have to be anywhere or to do anything, or to even shower? When I have all these hours that a few months ago could have easily and happily been filled with doing absolutely nothing? I'm surprised to find myself a little bored.

But I have kept myself out of insanity by doing fun things like this:



I made pretty decorations! And you'll notice that there is a door knob there. Yup, I installed that shit ma'sel on Sunday. So far, so good, as nobody has gotten stuck inside. You can now hire me out for parties-- I will install things and serve shots all for a nominal fee!

Okay... You can hate me now for not having to work this week. But try and hate me a little less than normal because I promise I'm not enjoying it as much as I should. Thanks.

Wednesday, December 22, 2004

Lessons from the Shot Master

Noticeably lacking in that last post was the mention of shots. And of the Shot Master. AKA? MEEEE. Here are a few lessons in how to make sure you are the bitchin'ist shot master ever.

1. Note that there are test tubes!! For in which to shoot shots! Immediately proclaim yourself Shot Master.



2. Befriend the local reindeer



3. And the man with the beard.



4. Show off kicky-fun hair since it just got 'did.



5. Get to work, already! Smile at the pretty people who take a shot.



6. Shout things like,"Drink it, you PUSSY!!!" to anyone who refuses a shot. Show scary neck to ensure seriousityness.



7. As well as drinking shots with people to make up for yelling at them, drink from the shot spigot as well. Don't get yer dirty mouth on it.



8. 200 shots later (10% taken by you), lick the hostess. If you must.



9. You did a good job. Sleep the next day for hours and hours and hours.

Tuesday, December 21, 2004

Drink it!

This is a pretty good start for you will see how fantastic this party was that I went to on Friday.



And to see why I should technically be hungover until about tomorrow at 2:14pm PST.



And why I had to sleeeeep until 5:30 then next day and then, only got up because I had to go to another party.



And to show how, when determined, mojitos can be made, regardless of the fact that there is no mint. Because there were Altoids.



But it's not quite the whole story...

Monday, December 20, 2004

Banana Hammock of Invisibility

Deck the Halls, yo.

Let's Go--
Trick Daddy
Slow Hands-- Interpol
Boulevard of Broken Dreams-- Green Day
Under the Gun-- The Killers
Pain-- Jimmy Eat World
Portland, Oregon-- Loretta Lynn feat. Jack White
Remember Me-- The Zutons
Lay Lady Lay-- Magnet feat. Gemma Hayes
The Blower's Daughter-- Damien Rice
Angeles-- Elliott Smith
All Good Naysayers, Speak Up! Or Forever Hold Your Peace!-- Sufjan Stevens
Jesus, etc.-- Wilco
You Wear the Sun-- Delays
On the Table-- A.C. Newman
Keep it Clean-- Camera Obscura
Untouchable Face-- Ani DiFranco
We Could Still Belong Together-- Lisa Loeb
Bright Future in Sales-- Fountains of Wayne
Goodnight and Go-- Imogen Heap
Drop the Pilot-- Mandy Moore
Creepin' In-- Norah Jones feat. Dolly Parton

This month's CD title is brought to you by Bunny. There was some wild and wacky times going on at Disneyland a few weeks ago including, but not limited to a demonstration of the No-Handed Clap, suggestions of BEASTiality, a Taco blow-out, and lots more (like the mention of the banana hammock of invisibility), fueled in part by pitchers and pitchers of margaritas. For those of you who are inexperienced in the ways of drunken Disneyland, I cry for you a little bit.



Sunday, December 19, 2004

Closer.

It's a foul-mouthed pretty-people documentary of how well people can screw (with) one another. I recommend NOT watching it with your parents.

Thursday, December 16, 2004

When You Care Enough to Send the Very Best.

Around this time two years ago, my sister decided that she had too much free time on her hands and wanted a second job. She was already working 10 hour days, mind you, but as she had been recently working 17 hour days, the extra 7 hours meant, to her, a significant amount of time to be used in a fruitful fashion.

At that time, I was working a 40 hour week plus taking a class 2 nights a week. I thought my time was filled just fine, thank you. But then! Then I see her, and she's working, and she makes it seem like she's got something figured out-- an extra job means extra money, which means less Christmas prezzy stress with some fairly mindless second jobbed input on her end. So you can see where this equation is going. Yup: x equals the difference of y less b over π (x = (y - b)/π). Or, wherein x equals me getting a second job as well. At Hallmark, which I thought was going to be a wonderful because Yay! Cards and ornaments! But no.

The first day, I was asked to dust the displays. The second day, I was told that I took too long dusting the day before, so now I would have to be timed. TIMED. And that I really shouldn't dust so much as I should wave the feather duster in the general direction of a display. (My supervisor sounded much like Lesley Ann Warren-- her "Fiiiiiiiive minutes!" was especially degrading and saccharine.) Then came time for me to learn how to use the vacuum. I had "Fiiiiiiiive minutes!" to go over the store. But only in a 'just get the big stuff' kind of way. This, I also did not do well, as I exceeded the time limit given. I figured, what with stopping for customer service and all, the 5 minutes was more of a suggestion. I was wrong. I was, however, commended on my stress management while working the cash register (there were 5 people in line at once, you see), but it seemed that my store beautification skills would be forever lacking. The last time I was asked to vacuum, I told her to start the timer as I went to get it. The last time I dusted, a model car suffered a drop from the high shelf. Oops!

About two weeks into the job, I was dreading going back to the store. Dread. I could summon not one single ounce of energy for it. More than anything, I just wanted to not show up and forget I ever worked there. Then Eia called. Having worked her flippin' ass off, she was tired and didn't want to go into work that night. Both of us were lamenting ever taking these jobs and suffering such guilt over not wanting to go in when we struck a deal-- I would call in sick for her, if she would call in and quit for me. Yes. I FELT SO BADLY ABOUT HATING THIS LAME JOB THAT I HAD TO HAVE MY SISTER CALL IN AND QUIT FOR ME. Not on my behalf, but to actually pretend she was me and say the words "I'm not coming back in anymore."

Yeah... I felt badly about that for about fiiiiiive minutes.

Wednesday, December 15, 2004

Ollie Ever Wanted...

...was a back that worked. For extended periods of time, such as 'for life.' But Ollie has some screwed up vertebrae, and they refuse. For the past month he's been hanging out, being horizontal (it was he who finally got me to remember the difference between horizontal and vertical. It's simple logic-- whores lay on their backs). Some days are better than others, depending on how much he exerted himself the day before. Yesterday he said he was bored and wanted to get out a little. I took him to the grocery store, parked up close, walked into the first aisle, checked out, and went home. That wiped him out for a while and I suspect that today he'll be feeling pretty horrible. But it was about 8 minutes going somewhere other than from the bed to the bathroom so it may have been worth it.

The surgery for his back was planned for tomorrow; reliant on his infection culture coming back negative. So when the lab called on Friday? to say that they had accidentally run the wrong test on the culture? and that the culture was no longer usable? and could he please come in on Monday so they could get another one? we were pretty sure that his chances of having a clean bill of health by Thursday left of NEVER. It was a rather depressing weekend. But Monday rolled and they pushed it through and YAY!! Oliver gets to have surgery tomorrow! I have never been so excited for anyone to have an operation. Everyone think good thoughts that this goes well, okay? Thanks.

And in related back news: Last week my teacher told us he had a dislocated back. I told him he better find it soon. He didn't think this was funny, but my class thinks I'm HYSTERICAL.

Monday, December 13, 2004

A Text Message Explained. And Much More!

I needed some text message clarification from my friend-- this story explains it and is guaranteed to make my Monday just a little bit better:

"Well, I went to the Santa Stumble on Saturday which is a bar crawl where everyone dresses up like Santa. I wore a bright red track suit, Santa hat, Santa beard and mustache and fuzzy eyebrows. There were literally 80-100 Santas there. It was awesome! I met these guys, no idea who they are but one was a regular Santa and this other dude was a heavy metal Santa with punk rock hair and a Santa suit. Anyway I had started chugging beers with this guy and I thought I was hilarious because I kept saying I was wearing a beer...d. So at some point my phone came out and heavy metal Santa had it and I was jumping around shouting I love the Santa stumble I'm never going HO HO HOme. and he wrote 'fuck yeah' and then went through my address book and said can I send it to her? can I send it to him? I mostly said no but when he got to your name I said Definitely... she'll understand.

The other highlight of the event was that I got in a fight with the reindeer-- otherwise known as bar sluts who think that dressing like sluts and wearing headbands with antlers is as cool as dressing in full on Santa. I was simply trying to get by them-- there were I think 3 maybe 4 of them. and I was like excuse me, and then again a little louder, excuse me please, and then I just shouted at them. Hey reindeer could you please move I don't have all night! They actually glared at me. Talk about holiday spirit. So I slightly pushed her out of the way, of course I was a little inebriated at that point so in restrospect I can see why she may have thought she had reason to call me a bad name... Bitch. So I told her uh-oh looks like coal for you and walked away."

I'm spending Easter with her... and keeping my fingers crossed for an Easter Bunny Bumble.

Saturday, December 11, 2004

To the Silver Bullet

Happy Birthday, Mom!!


We love you...


...Ollie, too (he just can't get up right now).

Thursday, December 09, 2004

I'm Rad in France

Yesterday was a shit day. It all boils down to not enough sleep, I'm sure, but I think I normally would have hated it, too. There is a lady, affectionately known to those in the office as Twister (so remarkably like a tornado with the swooping and leaving everything behind her in total shambles), who is driving. Me. CRAZY!!

I had a meeting with her yesterday-- the 4th meeting this week, actually. And, among other things, she said that everything she'd said before was wrong, but the err lay on my end because I'm the one who actually made these changes based on her comments. And every time this one problem came up (the same formatting problem in different areas, formatted to her (wrong!) standards) she got confused and asked why it was like that. Hello? We covered that 3 times already. Anyway, it was stressful and bad and I was hungry the entire time.

But then shone a light upon my darkness. Because in class last night I learned that the project I thought was due was only kinda-due... as in, we should have it to the point where we like it, but without the finishing touches. So I was not as behind as I had thought. And the fact that my project was broken in 4 places didn't seem to matter because my teacher LOVED IT. L O V E D! And thinks it should go to the Centre Pompidou because that where all modern art lives. So I'm pretty sure I'll get an A in that class. And possibly a lap dance. And then she let me go home an hour early. ME. Not the class. Me.

So today, after my 1,2,3... 6th (no joke) phone call with Twister and coming up to my second meeting with her, I am really trying to remember that I am rad and she is snot. And that when I'm in Paris, eating
croissants and schmoozing with other modern artists, she will be fixing her own damn formatting issues.

Tuesday, December 07, 2004

Holy Card Swap, Batman!

I have made (yup, handmade!) a ton of Christmas cards to send out this year. So, if you'd be wanting one, you should let me know and we can swaparoo. I promise not to sell you address to any serial killers.

This idea, of course, is not my own and credit goes to Dawnie and Oliquig, so there.

Monday, December 06, 2004

How Not to Start the Week

Caller: Hi.
Me: Hi.
Caller: Remember how you were all stressed to get all the schedules for spring submitted to the main office by Friday so they would be on time and you'd be sure to get the schedules you wanted?
Me: ...Yes?

Caller: I accidentally deleted most of those requests. And the system is now shut down so you can't resubmit.
Me: (looooooooooooong silence) Huh. Okay, I need to go now. I need to scream... or kill someone.


Thursday, December 02, 2004

Who-ville Crapper

Yesterday I started writing a post about how I am worried about myself because I'm so goddamn cheery these days. I can't stop smiling! with teeth! at strangers! And that every morning I have literally bounced out of bed, filled with an unadulterated glee at starting my day. I drove into work mentally listing all the reasons why that day was gonna be the best. And then I lost that post. But it was okay because the cheer isn't a post, guys, the cheer is inside me, in my heart, bursting to get out, and that just can't be lost!

Today? I have hit a wall, people. And it stings something awful. I could hardly get out of bed this morning. I had a 20 minute debate with myself on the issue of coffee: Do you need it this morning? b, you take the pro position and idiot, you take the con. The idiot won. Naturally. Someone asked to borrow a stapler and I wanted to punch him and I had a meeting this afternoon wherein I seriously considered impaling myself with my pen, just to get out of it. Clearly, the cheer has been eaten by the Grinch. (hmm... didn't he become the Holiday Cheer Meister? At least in the non-animated version? I wonder if there'll be a resurgence...)


ps-- THANK GOD that post was lost. Can you imagine all the puke I'd have to clean out of your keyboards? Disgusting! And how could I stand me? I'm blaming Doris Day.

pps-- No. I still totally love Doris Day. There was a dog tied to our neighbors garage the other night and the poor thing was shivering in the rain. My first thought? Doris Day would be PISSED!! And then I went and pet him. And checked an hour later to see if he was okay, but he'd been taken in by that point.

ppps-- I'm so sorry to anyone who actually read this. Horrible.