Monday, August 25, 2008

I'll take an S

Today is the first day of school. And I have been dreading it like I was on the sixth grade. I guess I'm not a real student, no instead I'm a graduate student going for a rather pointless degree in a dieing field, so that was smart of me. See what 7 extra years of school can do? I know lots of people go to school for 7 years, and no I'm not a doctor.

But as I was walking across campus at way to early in the morning I saw the coolest celebrity sighting ever. If there is one person everyone would want to run into it's this guy. Yep that's right I saw Pat Sajak.

I wanted to run up to him and scream, "I'd like to buy a vowel!" But I held myself back. Sure I stalked him across the campus, trying to think up something witty to say like, "So are you taking a spin around the campus?" or "Can I show you some Before & After pics of me, I used to have a different face?" ok that one was stretching it but I still think its a good conversation starter.

I used to have the Wheel of Fortune board game when I was little, and I wanted to be Vanna White (best job ever). But I grew up and realized that Vanna had sold her soul to the devil so that she would never age and therefore the position would never be open. Oh and I'm not a tall, beautiful blonde, dammit!

But sadly after getting closer to him it wasn't Mr. Sajak at all and instead an uncanny doppelganger. Oh well I think it was probably for the best.

Monday, August 18, 2008

Fun with power tools

I have puny arms. I mean they are proportionate to the rest of my body so I’m not complaining. But I am rather weak. I admit it. It seems to be the trade off for never gaining weight, so it’s one that I can live with. My sister is really weak as well so we are guessing it’s a genetic thing (although weirdly our mom is freakishly strong).

But it was rather frustrating trying to put together one stupid little ikea table. I could not get the screws in for the life of me. For a week the Swedish, wooden puzzle pieces mocked me from their jumbled heap on the floor. Everyday I would try to get the screws a little farther in, like maybe today I was a tad bit stronger or that the wood maybe would have given up its vice like hold, but to no avail.

But yesterday I brought back with me the great equalizer — power tools. Suddenly what was a week’s worth of frustration turned into ten, fun-filled, minutes of me just hitting a button and bam, it’s put together. And not even the tiniest bit of sweat was involved.

Now I’m thinking of putting up shelves and building a small ark. Thanks to electricity and tiny motors I have the ability to make anything.

So thank you power tools and fire arms for evening out the playing field.

Friday, August 15, 2008

I can feel you judging me

I met some friends downtown last evening. It was going to be a chill night as we started late and I was kind of tired.

As I first left my building I ran into a coworker. We talked for a few minutes and then said bye. I headed to the bar and forgot about him.

Fast forward about 9 hours. When I walked into work with only 3 hours of sleep under my belt, no makeup, hair kind of messy (I was just hoping everyone would think I was trying something new), no purse and wearing the clothes I was wearing the night before. No problem they weren’t wrinkly, I took a shower so I didn’t smell, but dammit, I forgot about the coworker.

The minute he sees me he breaks into a huge knowing smile and starts kind of giggling to himself. My boss walks over so I shake my head at my coworker and go over to talk to my boss.

Later he comes over, “I can’t help but notice that you are wearing the same clothes you wore last night. And you are looking a little haggard — have a good night?”

I have to go do an interview with him so I get mocked for a bit in the car, but at least he stopped by my place so I could brush my teeth.

Damn, for a big freakin city I seem to run into everyone just when I don’t want to.

Thursday, August 14, 2008

I'm not hungry, thanks

It was another weird day; I seem to have a lot of them.

I went with one of the photographers to this quaint little grocery store so he could photograph the owner for a profile we’re doing. When we get there the owner doesn’t want to be photographed because “he’s still in hiding.” Dude has owned this place for like fifty years and his name is everywhere. Sir, you are doing it wrong.

Then (profile has already been written) he proceeds to take us around his store, and goes on a fifteen-minute lecture about how he disposes of his fruits and vegetables. As he takes us over to the bin of discarded stuff, he starts throwing, a smidge-past-ripe fruit at us, telling us it’s tasty. Do I look like I haven’t showered in weeks? Are there funny stains that can’t be identified anywhere on my outfit? Am I wearing a tinfoil hat? No! So stop throwing food at me that comes from the garbage, I am not going to eat it.

But apparently everyone was obsessed with feeding me today.

After work I went to get a manicure, because I can be girly damnit. While the manicurist had one of my hands gripped tightly and the other soaking in tepid water, another worker lady came in with a plate of sushi from next door. She comes and sits by us and while talking to the other worker crams a deep fried rainbow roll in my mouth. I have to swallow or choke, so I choose the former. I guess it’s a full service kind of place.

Kind of awkward.

Thankfully I know the restaurant she got them from isn’t sketchy.

Tuesday, August 12, 2008

Must learn to not talk to strangers

Last week I had to go to the mall. I hate the mall. But I bravely entered the fourth circle of hell and tried to go about my errand.

Sadly I got stopped at one of the makeup counters. A very perky girl with shiny hair asked me if she could put some makeup on me. She looked so earnest and eager that I just didn’t have the heart to say no.

Twenty minutes and five pounds of glitter later I emerge looking like I got hit in the face by two bedazzled baseballs. She had a penchant for black and purple eye shadow that was used heavily to circle both of my eyes.

I dutifully told her it looked lovely and that this would be my look for forever more.

Now I have to walk around the mall looking like a rabid raccoon.

The day continued in this lovely way, when as I was walking home (right past city hall) this rusty green, Chevy Astro Van jumps the curb next to me and comes to a stop. The driver rolls down his window.

“Look what you made me do … cause you’re so purty.”

“Gee thanks.” Vehicular manslaughter is such a turn on.

Now I’m quickly backing away because I’m pretty sure that at any minute the side door is going to roll open and ninjas are going to jump out and attack me and then pull me into the van. Because I know that ninjas drive around San Jose in old beat up vans looking for random people to accost, that’s just what they do.

This doesn’t happen.

Instead he yells after me, “Where you going?”

I run across the street and into my building, locking the door behind me.

Thursday, August 07, 2008


Yesterday was just one of those days where you wish you could have a do over.

First off my boss calls me at 8 a.m. OK I’m not usually up by then, so I have to pretend to be awake and that I understand what he was saying. I know you corporate types are already in the office, blah blah blah. But I don’t roll in to work until 10 and that means I usually wake up at 9:30 and don’t actually get to work until almost 11 (very understanding boss).

Anyhoo he wanted to me to go with some of the advertisers to a meeting in Mt. View so I could then interview the person they were talking to. Good times.

I get to their office (in a different building then ours) and there they are, we’ll call them Advertiser B and Advertiser K because I’m not that creative, sucking down cigarettes like soon they would be illegal (which in our city I wouldn’t be that surprised), and they had to get as many into their atrophied lungs as possible in a five minute period. Anyway the old guy, Advertiser B, tries to tell me how I should write my little profile so that they could sell more advertising, and I was like, “Excuse me, but this is my story and I will write it as I see fit without any interference from the advertising department.”

Or that’s what I would have said if I had integrity. Instead I more or less mumble, “Thanks for the suggestion.”

So we head over to the clients which is twenty minutes away and the two guys get into the world’s most boring conversation about their large sells last week. We get there and they both suck down another cigarette before lighting another one up for the 500-yard hike to the office.

To make a really great impression we were 30 minutes late. Which then advertiser K gets in an argument with the client about how no they weren’t late and she must have had the time wrong. She says no I called and emailed you, he then pulls out his phone to prove she didn’t. About five minutes of this going back and forth, good times.

Finally we get in to the presentation where Advertiser K is told he has only 10 minutes to make his spiel and so he flies through it (it actually wasn’t too bad). And I find I was basically brought along as a selling point (mistaken for a whore again). But then after all that hard work we find that this woman is not the woman to talk to and instead they needed to talk to her boss who was not available right now. And she had to go and she was definitely not the person to talk to me. Lovely.

So I wasted two hours of my day, when I’m on deadline, 40 minutes of those spent in a car that smelled like old salami and I got nothing. Yeah!

After that I went home, and got ready to meet up with the ex before he moves 300 miles away (that’s right chased a guy 300 miles away, I’ve got talent).

So I get to dinner and he’s looking good, the bastard. Lost weight, tanner, new clothes. Since I was the one that broke up with him I had decided that I shouldn’t try to dress up, because well I’m cute enough to begin with don’t need to rub it in (by cute I mean most guys don’t throw up when they see me).

So I sit down and we get to talking, everything is very amicable. When all of the sudden, “You got your hair cut, it looks like crap.”

Too long of a pause, “Just kidding. It’s not that bad.” Looks at my hair again, “Well its got a kind of funny poof to it on one side.”

Well played sir, well played. I’ll give you that round.

I now hate my haircut.

I went home and drank — heavily.