was my favorite song when I was 10:
Sunday, May 29, 2011
sorry blog
Hey blog, I got a job! So I guess this is goodbye...
Just kidding. But I do have considerably less free time now, which is a completely excellent thing. When you're working and you're bored or frustrated sometimes you fantasize about what it would be like to not have a job and do whatever you want all day long. But unfortunately it's not as fun as it seems, mostly because you can't enjoy doing anything without having a nagging worry about spending money and spiraling into debt and ending up on the street.
So yes, job is good. I'm a receptionist for a construction firm and they pay me well so all in all it's very nice and the job is easy. I mostly answer phones and transfer the caller to the correct extension. And the callers don't yell at me, so that's good. Once someone called and was kind of grumbling at me about a superintendent on a job site and was like "HE GOT THE WRONG TIME ZONE!" and I was just like "oh sorry about that, I'll let him know" and then he hung up. One of my jobs the other day was sorting through resumes, categorizing and filing them. This involved me reading the resumes and I realized I don't know if I could be in HR or any capacity where it was my job to hire someone. It wasn't that the resumes were tedious or annoying, although some of them desperately needed reformatting, but you could see the desperation written all over the page. Everyone was unemployed, most everyone had been laid off, and most everyone was willing to do absolutely anything as long as it was a job. So yeah, I count myself lucky.
Besides that my life is still pretty dull. I went to the theatre and saw Bridesmaids last weekend and while it was funny and sweet and endearing, I still can't believe it has been heralded as the movie to set the "path" for truly funny women. While it was "raunchy" it still had tameness about it. It was advertised as the anti "rom com," but it was still so formulaic! All in all I was a little disappointed. I was entertained and I laughed and I loved Kristen Wiig and Maya Rudolph but it seemed reined in somehow. Also I felt like Melissa McCarthy's character was trying way WAAAAAYYY too hard.
Well that's it for now. I'm doing some thrift store shopping today, still looking for wooden outdoor chairs that I can refinish. Also getting a sandwich at the best damn sandwich place in the world. I kind of wish this wasn't a three day weekend and I could just go to work tomorrow. That's how pathetic I am.
Just kidding. But I do have considerably less free time now, which is a completely excellent thing. When you're working and you're bored or frustrated sometimes you fantasize about what it would be like to not have a job and do whatever you want all day long. But unfortunately it's not as fun as it seems, mostly because you can't enjoy doing anything without having a nagging worry about spending money and spiraling into debt and ending up on the street.
So yes, job is good. I'm a receptionist for a construction firm and they pay me well so all in all it's very nice and the job is easy. I mostly answer phones and transfer the caller to the correct extension. And the callers don't yell at me, so that's good. Once someone called and was kind of grumbling at me about a superintendent on a job site and was like "HE GOT THE WRONG TIME ZONE!" and I was just like "oh sorry about that, I'll let him know" and then he hung up. One of my jobs the other day was sorting through resumes, categorizing and filing them. This involved me reading the resumes and I realized I don't know if I could be in HR or any capacity where it was my job to hire someone. It wasn't that the resumes were tedious or annoying, although some of them desperately needed reformatting, but you could see the desperation written all over the page. Everyone was unemployed, most everyone had been laid off, and most everyone was willing to do absolutely anything as long as it was a job. So yeah, I count myself lucky.
Besides that my life is still pretty dull. I went to the theatre and saw Bridesmaids last weekend and while it was funny and sweet and endearing, I still can't believe it has been heralded as the movie to set the "path" for truly funny women. While it was "raunchy" it still had tameness about it. It was advertised as the anti "rom com," but it was still so formulaic! All in all I was a little disappointed. I was entertained and I laughed and I loved Kristen Wiig and Maya Rudolph but it seemed reined in somehow. Also I felt like Melissa McCarthy's character was trying way WAAAAAYYY too hard.
Well that's it for now. I'm doing some thrift store shopping today, still looking for wooden outdoor chairs that I can refinish. Also getting a sandwich at the best damn sandwich place in the world. I kind of wish this wasn't a three day weekend and I could just go to work tomorrow. That's how pathetic I am.
Friday, May 13, 2011
sun safety propaganda
With summer fast approaching it's really, truly beginning. I mentioned this earlier. THE SUN. It thirsts for your blood.
I saw this video recently and by the end of it I was crying:
Besides the obvious, I'm not sure why it upset me so much. And I don't mean to diminish the cause by joking about it, because I fear skin cancer and believe in preventing it. I was the one in college tsk-tsking my friends trips to the tanning beds, bringing extra sun screen and reciting cancer statistics. Of course they ignored me. But I haven't always been so conscientious, unfortunately. As a child I resisted the sunscreen, and although my mother did her damndest to hold me down and slather me up I've had a few bad burns in my lifetime. Back then (ohhh sooo many years ago. Not.) sunscreen wasn't as convenient as it is now, and was usually gloppy and white and cold, and your skin never absorbed it very well so you were sure to be streaked in white even 30 minutes after applying it. Now a days there are gels, sprays, SPF in moisturizer and makeup, SPF even in sunless tanner.
I guess my concern and fear comes from the fact that I feel no matter what I do I'll still get sick. I'm fair skinned with blonde hair and blue eyes, up there on the chart of most likely to get skin cancer. And despite all my knowledge about protecting my skin, there were times in my life where I just didn't care, as a child hating the process, and as a teenager just wanting to fit in and enjoy the sun like everyone else. All I can do now is just hope for the best and keep an eye out for weird moles.
Wellll that was depressing. So protect your skin! Watch the video! Wear a hat and sunscreen but still go outside and enjoy yourself. Doooo it.
In conclusion, enjoy this article about chihuahua derby racing.
I saw this video recently and by the end of it I was crying:
Besides the obvious, I'm not sure why it upset me so much. And I don't mean to diminish the cause by joking about it, because I fear skin cancer and believe in preventing it. I was the one in college tsk-tsking my friends trips to the tanning beds, bringing extra sun screen and reciting cancer statistics. Of course they ignored me. But I haven't always been so conscientious, unfortunately. As a child I resisted the sunscreen, and although my mother did her damndest to hold me down and slather me up I've had a few bad burns in my lifetime. Back then (ohhh sooo many years ago. Not.) sunscreen wasn't as convenient as it is now, and was usually gloppy and white and cold, and your skin never absorbed it very well so you were sure to be streaked in white even 30 minutes after applying it. Now a days there are gels, sprays, SPF in moisturizer and makeup, SPF even in sunless tanner.
I guess my concern and fear comes from the fact that I feel no matter what I do I'll still get sick. I'm fair skinned with blonde hair and blue eyes, up there on the chart of most likely to get skin cancer. And despite all my knowledge about protecting my skin, there were times in my life where I just didn't care, as a child hating the process, and as a teenager just wanting to fit in and enjoy the sun like everyone else. All I can do now is just hope for the best and keep an eye out for weird moles.
Wellll that was depressing. So protect your skin! Watch the video! Wear a hat and sunscreen but still go outside and enjoy yourself. Doooo it.
In conclusion, enjoy this article about chihuahua derby racing.
Thursday, May 5, 2011
love this song
and I know, and you know it too, that a love like ours is terrible news
but that won't stop me crying, no that won't stop me crying over you
but that won't stop me crying, no that won't stop me crying over you
Monday, May 2, 2011
the internet improves my life. also ruins it. everyday.
Sometimes (alright let's be real... ALL THE TIME) I get online and either I stumble or find a link that's so delightful and wonderful and I laugh and think about how lucky I am. Whether it be a website selling the world's biggest gummi bear or this video about the human slinky:
Human-slinky by bbqkarubi
Or finally finding out about kittehroulette.
And then, inevitably, I will come across something immensely upsetting. LIKE THIS ARTICLE ABOUT "NEW" SUN SAFETY RULES!
NOOOOO!!
Sunblock no longer good enough. Now you have to wear an "antioxidant enriched moisturizer"! WHAT IS THAT. Or how about this:
"Old rule: A little sun is healthy—20 minutes three times a week allows your body to produce vitamin D.
New rule: It’s not smart to go out-of-doors unprotected."
Kids- the sun is your enemy. It does want to kill you. Do not leave your home without slathering up. At the very least you will get ugly looking from wrinkles and at the very worst you will DIE.
And I knowww that it's most likely bullshit, that you can go outdoors to get the mail without sunscreen and you'll live to tell the tale. My logical brain knows this. My grandfather is approaching 95 years old and lived and worked on a farm when sunscreen wasn't even a thought. But also my grandfather lived in Minnesota and didn't spend the summer laying outside in a bikini. In Florida.
And while I know this is likely advertising execs trying to manipulate me and I know I should resist... I can't. I pass the sunscreen aisle and my neurotic, anxiety prone, slightly hypochondriac self can't pass it up. Bought the sunscreen. Will wear it.
And of course at the end of the summer, I will find a mole that has most likely always been there and then convince myself I have cancer. Then half an hour later I will convince myself I am dying of cancer.
Damn you internet. Damn you.
Human-slinky by bbqkarubi
Or finally finding out about kittehroulette.
And then, inevitably, I will come across something immensely upsetting. LIKE THIS ARTICLE ABOUT "NEW" SUN SAFETY RULES!
NOOOOO!!
Sunblock no longer good enough. Now you have to wear an "antioxidant enriched moisturizer"! WHAT IS THAT. Or how about this:
"Old rule: A little sun is healthy—20 minutes three times a week allows your body to produce vitamin D.
New rule: It’s not smart to go out-of-doors unprotected."
Kids- the sun is your enemy. It does want to kill you. Do not leave your home without slathering up. At the very least you will get ugly looking from wrinkles and at the very worst you will DIE.
And I knowww that it's most likely bullshit, that you can go outdoors to get the mail without sunscreen and you'll live to tell the tale. My logical brain knows this. My grandfather is approaching 95 years old and lived and worked on a farm when sunscreen wasn't even a thought. But also my grandfather lived in Minnesota and didn't spend the summer laying outside in a bikini. In Florida.
And while I know this is likely advertising execs trying to manipulate me and I know I should resist... I can't. I pass the sunscreen aisle and my neurotic, anxiety prone, slightly hypochondriac self can't pass it up. Bought the sunscreen. Will wear it.
And of course at the end of the summer, I will find a mole that has most likely always been there and then convince myself I have cancer. Then half an hour later I will convince myself I am dying of cancer.
Damn you internet. Damn you.
Wednesday, April 27, 2011
feeling alone
Every night I check the closets, the bathroom, and everything else in my 600 square foot apartment. I lay in bed staring at the ceiling and tense when I hear a noise. My ears strain, and the silence roars. My imagination whirs, I think of someone breaking down the door, coming in while I'm asleep. I reach out to touch Ryan's gun, which isn't even loaded, then my hand shrinks away. I've only shot the thing once and hated it so I can't actually imagine myself shooting someone.
Eventually I hear the creaking steps of the upstairs neighbors, bane of my existence ever since we got a "notice" from the landlord saying that someone had complained about "loud voices" coming from our apartment after quiet hours. I'm certain it was the upstairs neighbors and now track their every indiscretion in a notebook, my eyes slitted, hating them even though I know nothing about them except they like the word "fuck" and they smoke, because I can hear them coughing all the time. I'm not quite sure what I will do with the list of indiscretions, but it makes me feel better to track those coughing bastards, their late night parties and their drunken name calling and crying.
It's harder to be alone than I imagined. Hopefully I'll score a !!!JOB!!!! soon and will be more preoccupied.
Eventually I hear the creaking steps of the upstairs neighbors, bane of my existence ever since we got a "notice" from the landlord saying that someone had complained about "loud voices" coming from our apartment after quiet hours. I'm certain it was the upstairs neighbors and now track their every indiscretion in a notebook, my eyes slitted, hating them even though I know nothing about them except they like the word "fuck" and they smoke, because I can hear them coughing all the time. I'm not quite sure what I will do with the list of indiscretions, but it makes me feel better to track those coughing bastards, their late night parties and their drunken name calling and crying.
It's harder to be alone than I imagined. Hopefully I'll score a !!!JOB!!!! soon and will be more preoccupied.
Sunday, April 24, 2011
Cat Food whaaat
After I saw those weird, psychedelic Friskies commercials I didn't think I could possibly feel weirder about cat food
Until I read this article about the marketing campaign. Apparently Friskies was hoping to reach out to cat owners who are really, realllly into the experience of feeding their cat. And I quote:
" "Feeding wet," as Schlueter calls it, can for some owners be a highly ritualized and intimate pet interaction... This is a time for cats and owners to bond over a heap of moist, processed meat. And, according to Schlueter, many owners like to imagine what their cats are feeling and thinking during these moments of culinary ecstasy. This trippy ad, which is for wet food, is meant to capture the altered consciousness of the cat—the sensually heightened bliss it derives from chewing on a pile of damp Friskies."
Disgusting. So after I read that I thought, no, things cannot possibly get more bizarre.
Then I saw this "commercial" (although it's more of a short film):
WHAAAAAT. What was that? I looked it up and found it on youtube and watched it again. Then I called Ryan in the room and made him watch it. I tried to think of what Fancy Feast was up to... what is the point of that? Who are they marketing to?
And then I realized they are marketing to ME. Women cat lovers, in the 20 to mid 30's range, most likely educated young professional women of the marriageable age who are seeing their friends settle down and who long for the same. This woman looks like someone I could know and who is probably a little bit older than me. But she could be ME. She met a man who loves her so much that he noticed that she loves cats (Ryan said if I invited him over to meet my parents for the first time and then spent the whole evening playing with a cat that this most likely would be a deal breaker for him. But obviously this young commercial man finds it endearing), or more specifically ugly fluffy white cats with smooshed in faces who will deposit their very, very long fur on every item of clothing you own so you will need to at all times have a sticky hair roller in your purse, and a back-up in your car so you won't trail long, white cat hair everywhere you go, whether it be the doctor's office or a very important interview. But I digress...
Of course then comes the transformation of the bachelor pad into a little kitty paradise, the PROPOSAL (I also suggested to Ryan that he might want to take note of that. From the look he gave me, I'm guessing my suggestion was not noted), the very subtle but effective view of the rInG!!!!@!@!@! And of course everything in boxes, moving, starting your life together, just you, your honey and your little kitty cat. And feed that little surrogate child some fancy feast IF, of course, you truly love your cat. Because here comes the punch-line, "the best ingredient is love." Of course if you really loved your cat you would feed them wet food only sparingly, since it causes their little kitty kidneys to malfunction and eventually kill them. Or so the vet said.
Anyways- creepy to realize you are being pandered to and sought after. In a cat food commercial. Fancy feast wants me...
Until I read this article about the marketing campaign. Apparently Friskies was hoping to reach out to cat owners who are really, realllly into the experience of feeding their cat. And I quote:
" "Feeding wet," as Schlueter calls it, can for some owners be a highly ritualized and intimate pet interaction... This is a time for cats and owners to bond over a heap of moist, processed meat. And, according to Schlueter, many owners like to imagine what their cats are feeling and thinking during these moments of culinary ecstasy. This trippy ad, which is for wet food, is meant to capture the altered consciousness of the cat—the sensually heightened bliss it derives from chewing on a pile of damp Friskies."
Disgusting. So after I read that I thought, no, things cannot possibly get more bizarre.
Then I saw this "commercial" (although it's more of a short film):
WHAAAAAT. What was that? I looked it up and found it on youtube and watched it again. Then I called Ryan in the room and made him watch it. I tried to think of what Fancy Feast was up to... what is the point of that? Who are they marketing to?
And then I realized they are marketing to ME. Women cat lovers, in the 20 to mid 30's range, most likely educated young professional women of the marriageable age who are seeing their friends settle down and who long for the same. This woman looks like someone I could know and who is probably a little bit older than me. But she could be ME. She met a man who loves her so much that he noticed that she loves cats (Ryan said if I invited him over to meet my parents for the first time and then spent the whole evening playing with a cat that this most likely would be a deal breaker for him. But obviously this young commercial man finds it endearing), or more specifically ugly fluffy white cats with smooshed in faces who will deposit their very, very long fur on every item of clothing you own so you will need to at all times have a sticky hair roller in your purse, and a back-up in your car so you won't trail long, white cat hair everywhere you go, whether it be the doctor's office or a very important interview. But I digress...
Of course then comes the transformation of the bachelor pad into a little kitty paradise, the PROPOSAL (I also suggested to Ryan that he might want to take note of that. From the look he gave me, I'm guessing my suggestion was not noted), the very subtle but effective view of the rInG!!!!@!@!@! And of course everything in boxes, moving, starting your life together, just you, your honey and your little kitty cat. And feed that little surrogate child some fancy feast IF, of course, you truly love your cat. Because here comes the punch-line, "the best ingredient is love." Of course if you really loved your cat you would feed them wet food only sparingly, since it causes their little kitty kidneys to malfunction and eventually kill them. Or so the vet said.
Anyways- creepy to realize you are being pandered to and sought after. In a cat food commercial. Fancy feast wants me...
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