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i know i've said this before, but i hate getting up in the morning. there is just something so irritating about having an alarm go off when you are in the middle of a sound sleep. it kindof pisses me off in a way. so, instead of hopping out of bet all joyful and filled with glee, i hit snooze...about 5 times. i can't help it. i crawl out of bed, hit snooze, turn around and see the nice, comfy, warm bed just screaming my name. i HAVE to lie down. it's almost illegal not too. or it should be.
when i looked at my clock and it said 6:36am, i knew i had to get my ass in gear. my clock is 20 minutes fast, but damn, it's hard to get ready in a matter of minutes. i really should leave my apartment by 6:30! i hop in the shower hoping to awaken my senses and my joy for being alive. they were not awakened by the end of the shower and i'm not sure my eyes were open too far either. i got dressed anyway, did my hair, grabbed my lunch and headed out the door. 6:48am? not too shabby. it could've been a lot worse if i would've taken those last few minutes to use the bathroom.
i hop into my car and i'm off! here comes the girl with her eyes half shut!! everyone, out of the way!! i ran a red light or 2, but no one honked and i didn't get pulled over so i consider myself pretty damn lucky. i merge onto the parkway and jump over another land and take off at the speed of lightning!! well, almost. the honda isn't quite THAT fast. i'm cruising along, jamming out a little bit. i need to stay awake. all of a sudden, everyone hits their brakes. we are stopped. no one is moving. is that a snail that just passed me.
so, i sit there in traffic. and sit there. and sit there. i'm wondering what the heck is going on. i look longingly at the other side of the parkway where the cars are just whipping by into town. filthy bastards. you would think one of them would slow down and yell out their window about what was going on over on our side. come on. help these blind people out, man!
as i creep along, i see tail lights are moving a long. no brake lights. good thing. i'm getting close. i'm already late because i just HAD to crawl back in bed 5 times and now this. at least if i'm asked this can be my excuse. no one really needs to know i didn't want to get my ass out of bed, do they? FINALLY, i get to the thing we are all breaking for. it is 3 cars TOTALLY off the road with their hazards on and blocking NO sort of roadway at all. big deal. there was a little fender bender. do we all need to brake and gawk? is it absolutely necessary to stall 2 lanes of traffic for over a mile for a wreck that was off the road? does that make sense? don't we have places to go? if they keep it up, they'll be the ones that wreck!
i feel bad for the people on the side of the road. they are just hanging out waiting for the cops. if it were me, i'd be mother fucking you, you, you and you along with your dog. i'd flip everyone driving by off and possible moon them. leave them alone! they already feel like assholes being along the parkway in rush hour, none the less, with a wrecked car and tot op it off it's raining!! just drive you bastards. drive. how do you think those people along the side of the road got into that predicament anyway, gawkers.Current Mood:  annoyed |
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i am not like other girls.
i am not a dumb girl.
i am not a "girly" girl.
i don't wear tight pants.
i don't wear pointy shoes.
i don't wear shirts that reveal my all.
that's not me.
i am like me.
i am intelligent.
i am unique.
i wear flares, cords, or cargo pants.
i wear sandals or clogs.
i wear plain t-shirts or ones that say something funny like "a freakin' rock star."
but i'm still a girl. i still LOOK like a girl. i'm still feminine. i'm still gentle. i'm still caring. i'd like to think i'm still attractive.
it seems like a lot of my writings spin off from what happens to me downstairs in the cafeteria in the morning at work. i can't explain why.
i grabbed a packet of oatmeal, $.60 and headed down the stairs to chef me up a breakfast. i'm expensive and complex, huh? as i hit the last of 32 steps, i took a quick scan of the cafeteria. i never want to run into someone that wants to have a conversation about work while i'm there. i see these 2 women walking my way. i didn't know them. they weren't paying me a bit of attention which was all right by me. they were BOTH bleach blonde. they both had sweaters on. those fluffy, not so fluffy, but it's soft looking kind of sweaters. one had a fluffy turtle neck, the other was wearing a big, ugly scarf. i love scarves. this one just had to go. i passed them and went to get the hot water for my oatmeal before going to get me cappuccino out of a machine. hey, they are good, really.
i poured my oatmeal in a cardboard coffee cup they have in the cafeteria. i then get the boiling hot water right there out of the machine. it's great. just add water. i don't need a microwave or anything. i get a spoon, stir it up, make sure there's enough water, then head on over to the other side of the cafeteria where they have the microwaves. they have vending machines and that is also where the cappuccino is. it's in a little room.
as i walk, walk, walk i continue to stir my oatmeal. i need to concentrate on something else besides this freak show all around me. as i go to enter the room, i hear 2 women talking. i hope it's not the 2 i saw when i got down here. but, we all KNOW it is going to be. as i enter the room, i see it is them. i go about my business. i set my oatmeal down, put my change in for my coffee and get my lid. i try to do this all in a hurry. for some reason, being the a room with these "pretty" women, i immediately feel judged and inferior simply by what i have on and how i look.
the one is warming up some stuff in the microwave. i hear her say twice, "this is why i don't cook. i can't."
i decide to take a glance over to see what she's cooking. i was thinking she brought something from home like egg whites or something and was doing them in the microwave. when i look over, i see she has oatmeal. i can't believe this woman can't make oatmeal. i can make oatmeal. it's easy. oatmeal+hot water = hot oatmeal. it doesn't take a genius to figure this one out.
being the nice person that i am, i decide to help the poor girl out.
"you know," i begin as the other girl GLARES at me, "they have hot water over there. i just stick mine in a cup and add some of the water and stir it up. see?" *shows her my own oatmeal*
she looks quickly, "yeah, well i tried that once and messed it up. i just told her i can't cook. i don't know why i try. i've really messed this up."
i smile as the other girl still glares at me and i exit the room. i didn't realize making a package of INSTANT oatmeal was really cooking. but, hey, i could be living in some other sort of world.
i then continue to think: these are the women that men like. these are the women men find attractive. these are the women men will put up with. forever.
i'm amazed. simply amazed. but then again, i don't think i'd want a man that wants a woman like that. i like who i am even if i don't fit in. i like my birkenstocks. i like to wear socks with them when it gets cold. i like to wear socks that don't match my outfit at all. i like my long skirts. i like my tye-dyes. i like my woolly sweaters. i like my hair wraps. i like the brains in my head. i like to be able to make instant oatmeal with no problem. i like to be loved for who i am and not how pretty i am. i don't have bras and underwear that match. i like to be comfortable. i like to look good AND be comfortable. i like to be happy.
i like to be me.Current Mood:  happy |
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i have a meeting every wednesday at work. usually around 1pm. or 1:30pm. and i guess they aren't every week like they should be. my manager's a slacker. ssshhh.
i got an email early in the morning saying there WILL be a meeting this week and the room it was is and the time. blah, blah, blah. i don't know why we have these meetings. we go over things that really don't mean anything to me. people take tablets and write stuff down. i doodle a lot. i wrote down a few things to make me look like a good, productive employee. this week, i just didn't give i shit. i didn't want to write down numbers, whose doing what or whatever they felt like talking about. i grabbed my REAL journal that looks like a tablet and headed on off to the glassed in room so the people can walk by and look at the animals inside. yeah. i held the tablet on my lap and pen in my hand as my manager babbled on about this "must know" information. one of the last things he said was that we were going to be getting a new temp. yes, just add ANOTHER temp into the 10 we already have. see, corporations make no sense to me. he then goes on about how we aren't sure what she'll be doing but her name is Ginger.
Ginger.
yes, you all heard me right. why didn't her parents just name her bambi?? a smile slowly crept across my face. i wanted to blurt things out like:
'that's a stripper name! did you pick her from the club?'
'is she a slut? that name belongs to a slutty girl that sleeps with everyone's boyfriends.'
'i know she's a whore. don't lie. only a whore has that name!'
'great, an airhead. just what WE need!!'
'she better no even TRY to be a bitch because i'm bitchier!'
i know all you women agree with this. there are certain names that remind me of strippers. or that slutty girl. you know what they are. let's name some:
mandy
angie
brandi
amber
nikki
tiffany
brooke
angel
brittany
you KNOW what i'm talking about. you are there shaking your head!! no one ever says it out loud. that's all. there are more names. the list could go on. but, we'll settle with these for now.
i get to work today at my normal quarter after 7. i mosey on in as i rub the sand out of my eye. i sit down and listen to the hens cackle in the barnyard. i sigh to myself and dream about what a REAL life would be like where people are happy and don't bitch about someone forgetting to include a hyphen. i do my morning ritual which is check my emails, LJ, and write something while i sip on my coffee. after about an hour, i heard someone say the new temp is here. i forgot about her really. that is, until i heard her.
a few moments later i hear one of my co-workers telling 'ginger' that she will be sitting at mike's desk because he just got married and is on his honeymoon.
"oh really?!" she began, "that's so great. is that a picture of him. is that his wife? where are they at?"
immediately following that she asked if she could eat her peanut butter and pickle sandwich. *giggles* *in an airhead voice* 'because her boyfriend said everyone here might think she's pregnant eating things like taht. *giggle*.' whoa.
i'm immediately taken back. slow down perky perks-a-lot. you're talking in a squeaky-ass-valley-girl-i-used-to-be-a-cheerleader-now-i'm-just-always-annoying voice and i want to smack the shit out of you. she had no idea. she sat down and someone started training her. she's a loud talker too. that made me SO happy that i about shit my pants with joy. not only was her voice annoying, she was the loud talker. that's a double whammy.
as i was in the middle of entering an invoice, the sound that crept out of the pod next to me broke my concentration. she yelled at a person a seat away for some help. i actually think my ear drum is slightly ruptured. i made it LOUD and clear that LOUD people irritate me. i don't think she caught on. she doesn't seem too....bright, if you know what i mean. i wasn't totally shocked by that. it's sort of a trait that goes with the name.
a slight bit later, she was trying to do something but forgot. when someone showed her she replied with:
"i am a true blonde. really. *giggle, giggle"
nothing like screaming, "HEY!! i'm dumb!" wow. someone let me off this train.
i talked to aimee later on. i was whispering to her about the slutty girl with the possibility of being a pointy toe shoe wearer. we talked about her and made fun of her for awhile. she wasn't at her desk so no one could hear me. as i was telling aimee a story about something so interesting that she was on the edge of her seat, 'ginger' came back and started talking. i immediately lost my train of thought. aimee asked if that was the girl or a pterodactyl. a combination of both. i'm not sure if i did finish that story. kristian wanted me to crawl up on my desk, lean over the wall and scare her. i said no. i was afraid that she might breathe my way and i'd catch a case of the dumbs.
can you catch a case of the dumbs? i hope not. she's too close to comfort for me!Current Mood:  giggly |
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i have this really annoying woman that i work with. see, i work in this nice corporate office doing "the man"'s bitch work and getting paid shit. but, alas, it is a job so i suck it up and deal with it. i don't fit into this corporate setting. i think it's quite cult like. one day i will tell them to kiss my ass as i skip off their property.
anyway, i actually work with 19 woman including myself. yes. 19. in a departmental setting. it's wonderful. it's our very own cubicle ghetto in here. kind of like caged cats, if you k now what i mean.
i don't know if any of you guys have one of these people you work with, but you might. there is this one woman, no matter if it's 6am, 8am, 12pm, 3pm, or any other time of the day, she yells at people. i don't mean yell as in screaming at people in a mean way, it's how she talks. she is the loud voice talker. instead of getting up and WALKING to the cubicle that is on the OTHER side of the wall and three down from her, she chooses to YELL across the way. the best part is, a lot of the time she has her MOUTH FULL. so, not only is she yelling across the distance about something, there is food flying everywhere and she mumbles it. it is totally disgusting and i want to smack her every time she does it. i mean, come on, chew your food, swallow and THEN talk. did your parents teach you anything? and being a parent yourself, shouldn't you be teaching YOUR kids that?? just what we need, more full mouthed yellers in the world.
the worst is in the morning when she first gets here. you know how it is, the office is all quiet. you get to have a few sane moments of the day before people start coming in and pestering the shit out of you. then you get slap-happy-yelley-magee over there talking at the top of her lungs about someone or something as if it's so important that her life depends on it. because you know, this office job here is the most important thing EVER. and that girl over there, well you can just TELL me all about her, her mom, her boyfriend, what they do at night, what they had for dinner, what they watched on tv, what time they went to bed and any other thing i want to know. have their social security number?
shut. up.
just shut up.
your voice is annoying. you remind me of a muppet on crack. your food flying in people's face is disgusting. you irritate the living SHIT out of me and you don't even have to try THAT hard. you are honestly a person i can say i hate to work with.Current Mood: crazy |
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noise.
what is that noise.
as i grumble awake from sleep, i hear a mixture between country and rock music. interesting. i know why THAT never made it big. my clock radio likes to pick up 2 stations at one and give me a jumble of noise.
i stretch, rub my eyes, walk across the room and hit snooze. i do that at least 2 more times before i decided to get out of bed. i never said i was a morning person. i grab my fluffy blue robe with moons and stars decorating it off the hook on the back of my bedroom door. i lean down to pet the cat's head as she stalks me in the doorway of the living room. into the bathroom, i turn on the hot water and await my nice shower. i sit on the toilet for a moment and ponder what the hell i'm doing in like. why am i in this apartment? why am i getting up and going to a job i don't like? why do we all force ourselves to do things on a daily basis that we don't want to do? isn't it supposed to be easier than this? happier in a way? i guess i just don't get it. or don't want to. i'm not sure.
i make sure the water is a degree or two too hot because i have a chill lingering in my spine. i extend my shower a few extra minutes which isn't the brightest thing to do since i have already hit snooze 3 times. oh well. the world can wait for me. as i turn the old knobs on the shower off, i reach for my towel to dry off. the steam is so think in the small bathroom that i can barely see across the room. i get out, brush my teeth and dry my hair off. i look down at the bottom of the door and notice a little striped paw that looks as if it has a white little sock on and pink pads darting in and out of the bottom of the door. i guess the cat thinks she's going to open the door. i help her out and i open it for her. the steam rolls out and my little pudgey cat starts to talk to me. we meow at eat other as i search for my glasses. i gel up my hair real quick then go into the kitchen to get her fed. she continues to talk to me until her bowl is full and her first bite is had.
i continue my routine, pack my back for work, and grab some coffee. i kiss my boyfriend goodbye then i head out the door. it's a little chilly, but not TOO chilly. the first signs of fall. i pause on the side walk and look around and then up and the sky. i take a deep breath. hmmm. crisp. sharp invigorating. i can't wait until i see the first leaves change colors. i begin my walk up my street as the cool wind brushes across my bare arms. i like that feeling. it leaves something in your bones. something that you know, but you aren't sure you know. things will happen. things will change. i cross the street and head down the next one. i watch as a few joggers flow past me, a few business men hurry for the subway, a couple is walking their dog, the crossing guard sits patiently waiting to help a child across the street. so much goes on early in the morning. imagine the things we miss while we are asleep. someone is always doing something somewhere. interesting.
i get to my car and settle in. i open the roof and head off on my way. i put some softer music on as i watch as the sky begins to change colors. the closer i get to work, the brighter it becomes. as i merge off of the parkway into my exit, the sky is streaked in golden reds and majestic blues. what an interesting combination. i inhale the crisp air again that is streaming through my roof and continue to stare at the marvelous sky. if i was a painter, i would've painted it for everyone to see. instead, i just revel in the fact that these are the things it is really all about.Current Mood:  creative |
| » attack of the pointy toes |
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so there i was, down stairs toasting up my little thomas english muffin when i run into brandon. brandon is aimee's disgruntled friend who visited her at starbucks that works here at fedex. i've never ran into him in this building before because he works nights and, well, i work days. we converse for a few moments about life, what we've been doing and how i got whacked in the head with a slab of my ceiling. he heads on off for home as i steal some jelly and get some water. why pay for little packs of jelly they give you free at park n' puke, lenny's or any other kind of place of that sort. i decided to take the elevator up to the third floor just for shits and giggles. i usually take the stairs and wanted to be a rebel today. ah, the dangerous life i lead working in the corporate world. i look down the hallway to make sure no one is waiting for the elevator. i hate riding the elevator with people. they feel the need to make conversation about stupid things like the weather or the muffin i have in my hand. no one is there so i scurry along and hurry up and press the button. i'm hoping one of the elevators will be there so i can hop on and close the doors quickly having a quick 10 seconds of solitude. i hear the elevator start to move. damn. it must be on the 4th floor. i look to the left. i see two prissy i'm-better-than-you'll-ever-be-because-i-have-nice-hair-tight-clothes-and-my-knees-are-bruised-from-working-for-my-promotion girls walking my way. you know the type. they are chatting away as i silently pray that the elevator gets there before they make it to me. unfortunately, the doors open as they are only 3 steps away from me. i think about jumping on and closing the door. but, we have a ghetto elevator and it takes a few extra seconds to close the door even AFTER you press the button. they'd have made it on anyway. i stride onto the elevator, press 3, and lean again the elevator wall in my plain maroon shirt, light grayish pants and my birkenstocks on my feet. they step in, still gabbing away, look me up and down and stay to the other side of the elevator. i look up, around and then down because the sweet lord and his llamas know i don't want to make eye contact. they might try and hypnotize me into being like them. as i look at the elevator floor, my eyes sweep to the two girls feet. my eyes grow wide in terror as i realize they both have pointy toed shoes on!! ew. ew. ew. the one girls shoes are blue with an obnoxiously long point and a strap around her ankle on a high heel. the other girls weren't quite as long, but just as pointy. they were pink with some lace on the top of the foot with no back as to be like a REAL pair of sandals only with a high heel also. i glare at their shoes and then smirk to myself. i know they see me. if they can look at me like i'm poop on a stick that has been smeared on a wall, then i can let these trashy whores know i'm silently making fun of them. finally, we reach the third floor. i watch as they shuffled along uncomfortably in their pointy-toed hell. i strode along past them in my sleek, well-rounded birkenstocks and my feet thanked me for not putting them through such hell.
Sep. 14th, 2004 @ 08:05 am
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| » that girl |
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he's at it again. he's that person that pops in and out of your life at inadvertent times. you don't even think about him. at all. occasionally something will remind you of him, but it isn't as hurtful, as bothersome, as it would've been before. before when you were so raw. so hurt. so vulnerable.
he pops up and now you think of him more. think of the times that have been shared. his eyes. the way he would look at you. the way that he held you the last time you spent the night with him. the way he would play tug of war inside himself. the way he laughed. the way he made you feel special even if he didn't know he was doing it.
he talks to you now as if it was nothing. as if this isn't unusual. as if he's not in love with you. but you know different. you know he's in love with you. you know that you are no longer in love with him.
sometimes you wish you were. sometimes you wish you could be in love with him because that's what you wanted at one point in your life. him. in love. with you. you wonder what it would be like. would you be happy? would he treat you right? would you want anyone else? would he open up to you? would you have a relationship on a level of uniqueness that not everyone finds? would he like your cat? would he look at you with adoring eyes, hold you and never let you go? would he take the time to get to know you?
could the two of you have been?
you'll never know. you're at the point where you think you'd rather not know. why put yourself in a situation where when it comes push to shove, you know he wouldn't treat you the way you feel you deserve. you know he'd still not pick up the phone and call. you know you'd just be that girl that gets invited over after the bars close. you know he wouldn't take a chance to love you. to love him. to love the two of you together.
but he's not man enough. he's not strong enough. you scare him too much. instead of enjoying what a great love he could have in his life, he just randomly shows up in yours. drifts in and out of your life. not holding onto you for too long. that's all he's capable of.
he's capable of a lot of nothing.
Aug. 20th, 2004 @ 08:45 am
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| » could you be loved? |
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people come in and out of our lives. it's an interesting adventure. some people stay. some people go. some people show you something. some just cause some pain. but no matter what happens, we all learn something about ourselves, our lives, or what we want in life regardless if the outcome is good our bad.
have you ever been drawn to someone without any rhyme or reason? have you ever been infatuated with someone but you aren't quite sure why? there's just something there. there's just something about that person. you feel compelled to talk to them, learn from them, about them. you want to be around them even if it is only to stand in the same room with them.
have you ever stared at this person and realized they were staring back at you? you hold the gaze, search the eyes and wonder what this is. what is really going on? you see something lying in their eyes. you see their pain. you feel their pain. you see how they are. you see the hurt. you know you can help this person and this person can help you. you see love in these eyes. some form of it even for you. that's weird. no it isn't. why is it weird? could this person not love you?
but they do. and you love them. but it's a different form of love. it's a love on a different level. a love that is old. a love that is before. you want to say something, but you can't. you're crazy. you sound absolutely crazy. no matter how much he looks at you, no matter how many moments you share with AND without conversing, you are nuts. no one would ever believe you.
so you wait. you need something more to go on. you go when you can see him. you are over it. over him. over the things that you are supposed to learn and experience this time. you shut up. shut it out. ignore that it even exists. everytime you see him, you feel it. you can't help it. he stalks your mind, your dreams and whatever else he can in your life. you've just accepted that this is not the time, the life, that you are meant to be together in anyway. you just know that there was something, there could've been something, but it was not the right time. no matter how hard it is, you try and accept this is all it is.
you know he's leaving. you have a few times left to see him. you want to say goodbye. give him a thing or 2 to remember you by. maybe even keep in touch in a friendly sort of way. maybe that's the only way you are to help him this time. but he leaves. leaves you behind. without a goodbye. without a wave. without a word said to you at all. he leaves you. standing there, in the cool summer night, watching him as he walks away. watching him walk like you are supposed to go after him. stop him. tell him you know and you're sorry.
but you don't. and he's mad. and he's walking away. all that's left is you. you and your emotions that are so confused and unexplained. left for you to figure it out. left you wondering. left you confused. you felt it. you KNOW he felt it. but he walked away. left you standing. standing in a crowd of people. watching his back as he walks away. away from the things you thought were real. were shared.
the thing that breaks your heart even more is you know, you will never see him again.
Jul. 26th, 2004 @ 10:13 am
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| » cubicle ghetto |
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office jobs are so boring. i think it's funny that companies think they are doing us a favor by locking us up in their building, putting everyone in a little box with only 3 sides and making us be their bitch. personally, i find it rather cult like in a way.
i'll never forget the first time kristian came to visit me at work. i guess he's never been in a business like setting where i work. on the outside, the building looks beautiful. on the inside, there's people that are dressed the same, walk around like their paper work has some meaning, and everyone looks unhappy, stressed, ready to go postal or whatever. when he got to my building and signed in, i took him for a little walk around the building. i figured i'd show him where i spent too much time out of my life. people looked at us weird. maybe that's because he had on shorts, a bob marley shirt, a phish hat and sandals. then there was me with my spikey short hair, a hair wrap in, cargo pants, a plain t-shirt and my birkenstock sandals. we looked like a couple of hippies. it was like those pictures we used to get when we where young called "which things don't belong". we would've been circled. everyone was unsure of what we were doing there because neither of us LOOKED like we worked there. i love doing that.
when i got kristian upstairs to see my desk, his eyes got as big as saucers:
"oh my god, you work in a cubicle ghetto!!!"
i pause for a moment, took a look around and realize that he's right. i. work. in. a. cubicle. ghetto. how sad. i don't even sit by a window anymore. they took it away from me randomly when i was out having surgery. can't you believe that? i was being cut up and they were stealing my desk. isn't that mean? i came back, walked to my desk and everything was gone. my computer, my phone, all my stuff in general. i was confused. i panicked, but only a little. i don't like my job THAT much to panic a lot. i found my manager and he told me they moved my desk for "construction." construction? suuure. he shows me my new desk. great. i have no window and now i get to look at filing cabinets!!! how great!! to make matters worse, he sat me next to the department snoop. this woman has to interject on everything you say, listen to everything you say on the phone, everything you say to people at your desk, and she ever tries to listen to the voices in your head. freaky really. i knew this was going to irritate me greatly, but i figured i could handle it. if she wheeled her chair out to listen to my conversations and interject, i''ll just have to pick up my stapler and start firing staples at her. end of discussion.
i put all my crap away, put my pictures back up and made sure i didn't have an incriminating evidence that someone packed up for me. whew. the first phone call i got was from a customer. as i'm talking and telling them what needs to be done, i hear nosey noserton on the other side of my wall telling me what to do. she's talking so loudly that i can barely hear what the other person is saying let alone remembering the train of thought i was on. finally, i tell the person to hold on. i'm irritated beyond belief by this point. i know my job. i know what i'm doing. i don't need someone to shout it at me over walls like i'm some stupid fuck when i'm already on the phone elaborating the processes.
"you need to do me a favor and just shut. up. i'm not listening to you. i will never listen to you. if i have a question, i'll ask. but, i'm on the phone explaining and answering this man's questions. don't EVER talk over me or AT me while i'm on the phone."
there was silence then a muffled ok. i hear the man chuckling on the phone. she's lucky i didn't pull out my letter opener and slice her with it. you never know what could happen in a the world of cubicle ghettos.
Jul. 16th, 2004 @ 08:55 am
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| » clear, invisible, did i put it on at all?! |
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clear deodorant.
can someone please tell me what the point of it is? i mean, really, it doesn't seem to work for me at all. i am the one that shows her chalky white pits and i'm proud of it! black tank top? that's all right! at least the residue that i leave behind on my shirt can be wiped in my pits at a later time if they begin to smell.
kristian hates the fact that i wear the white stick deodorant and not the clear. i frustrated him with my white pits. he loves his clear deodorant. he lives by it. scouts honor. i, on the other hand, don't find it useful to me.
don't get me wrong, i HAVE tried the stuff. back in the day when i was about 17 that stuff was pretty cool. you could lift your arms and show the whole world how good you smelled! but, alas, it never worked for me. an hour or so after i put it on, i could smell myself. i'm not a smelly creature, but i can omit a sort of odor without my antiperspirant. the thing is, my right armpit always sweats a lot more than my left. i never understood that. it was always the first one to start smelling. odd really.
i used kristian's clear deodorant in vegas because he just couldn't let me wear my maid of honor dress and walk around with white pits everywhere and smearing it all over the black dress. he insists i use it. i tell him it won't work. he tells me it will. we have our little scuffle about the deodorant and i give in. FINE. it's my sisters wedding. i won't have white residue everywhere.
he rolls it up for me and out come these 3 little blotches. ew. how is that better!? really now! i put it on and it's cold and slimy. feels like i put some cold pudding in my armpits. i stand with my arms up for awhile because i am CONVINCED that it's going to get my dress wet. an hour or so later i take a sniff at my pits to see if they smell. i know you smell your pits too. usually in privacy, i'm sure. not me, i take a whiff of them in front of kristian, my family, the bridal party, etc.
"hey, smell this!" i say to kristian.
"um, *looks around* *sniffs* yeah." he replies to me
"i don't smell! that stuff DOES work! i'm so excited" i say excitedly.
i'm amazed. they must've improved deodorant within the past 6 years or so. wow. i decide when i came how i should try some out. i went to the store and i picked some up. now kristian's deodorant was Arrid so i wanted to get the same kind seeing as it worked. i found some, bought it and rushed home.
i used it for work this morning. i figured since have a short sleeved shirt on that kinda sits in my pits, i'd give it a whirl. by the time i got here, i could smell myself. now i'm unhappy all over again with the clear deodorant. i am afraid to lift my arms when anyone is near. i hope no one wants to hug me. kristian said it's because i didn't by the XX Arrid. well, excuse me. i thought Arrid was Arrid.
moral of the story is: if you wanna smell so fresh and so clean, stick with the crusty white deoderant.
Jul. 7th, 2004 @ 04:19 pm
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| » broken spirits |
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las vegas.
i'm back from there right now. what can i say about the town? what can i say about my trip? the pace is excessive. that's the only word that i feel fits it perfectly. excessive lights, excessive people, excessive gambling and money spending period, excessive drugs, excessive nakedness, excessive buildings. it's a town that was built to impress people, but i am one of the people that is really unimpressed by it. i'd rather go spend my time in the mountains hiking. or on a beach. or somewhere that i can relax and enjoy myself. not run around like crazy trying to fit everything in AND elbow my way through crowds. hectic.
on the last day kristian and i were there, we were doing some shopping. we went into the passage shops where we spent most of the day. we went into this one random store that i thought looked neat. i don't know about you, but i like to touch things. products. check them out. see if they're worth the money. i see something in there i like. it's a picture frame that says friends forever and has this funky flip flop on it. there was a ledge that was on the front of the frame where the shoe sat. thinking the shoe is glued, i pick it up, spin around and say:
"hey kristian, wouldn't this be cute if i..."
**crash**
not a huge crash like i dropped a stack of plates, but you heard this shoe fall off the picture frame and hit the floor. the STONE floor that is. kristian and i just look at each other. i hurry to pick it up, cross my fingers that no one saw me. i don't want to look stupid. most of all, i don't want to have to pay for it. which i shouldn't have to. accidents happen. people used to break stuff in my store when i worked retail all the time. it was no big deal.
"did you break it?" kristian asks.
"shit. i did. dammit." i reply
"you shouldn't go picking things like that up. i keep my hands in my pockets." he says shaking his head.
"jesus christ, kristian. don't treat me like my dad. i thought it was glued."i reply angrily.
"yeah, me too." he quickly says.
a sales associate comes walking over. she didn't think it broke, but i told her it did. see how honest i am? i really wanted to leave it there and run, but i told her. well, i told her because she caught me. she huffs and puffs and gives me this attitude. i think it's unnecessary. it's not like SHE'S losing the money. she has a lisp sp it's hard for me to understand her. i have to keep saying what and excuse me.
so, she asks me if i want to buy it, but tells me i don't have to. the shoes just broke in half and it can be glued rather nicely. i don't really want the frame. i just thought it was cute. she says she'll give it to me 75% off.
sigh.
i REALLY don't want a frame. especially now that it's broken. i don't care that i broke it. she does the math and tells me it'll be %10. it was $35.
sigh.
fine. i'll buy it. so, i give her the money as she makes fun of me for being clumsy. this is no longer funny and i am irritated that i was guilt tripped into buying this thing that i broke that i don't even KNOW if i'll give to aimee because i broke it.
i hand her my money and leave. nothing like a guilt tripped purchase. i refused to touch anything else on my way out or the rest of the time.
more stories later,
beth
Jun. 30th, 2004 @ 03:31 pm
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| » the hidden food (not really) |
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i get stuff stuck in my teeth all the time. it doesn't matter if it's a piece of meat or some marinara sauce. it always finds it's way to lodge itself in between my front teeth or the teeth right next to it.
i work the normal 8-4:30 shift. i have that normal day to day, everyone is in a routine kindof job. it's actually terrible because i am unlike any of these people at ALL and i really do stick out like a sore thumb. everyone here is business like and proper and then there's me. the girl that wears her birkenstocks to work. damn hippies.
anyway, it's rather draining to work in that sort of environment so i just kind of make do. i can't really shape myself to belong so i partially pretend i fit in.
i usually take my lunch around 1pm just so after i eat, i don't feel as if i have that much time left. i kind of trick my mind into thinking that i am more than half way through my shift. that is true, but not really. i maybe shake a half hour off. but, i have to believe that i will be out of here before i know it.
i sit at my deck and munch on my lunch. i don't eat in the downstairs cafeteria. it reminds me of high school. everyone is sitting at their little tables with their little cliques and talk about everyone buying their lunch. i went through that for 4 years, i'm not going back there. plus, since i have the red hair, people just stare at me and then say, 'look at that girls hair.' yeah, buddy, i'm sure your friend didn't see my BRIGHT red hair. but, thanks. thanks for pointing that out.
if i have to go down to the cafeteria, it's usually just to warm up some kind of food i brought. the microwaves are off to the side all by themselves so you don't have to see too many people. unless it's packed in there too. then you have those people that stand in line, but they're up your ass waiting in line for the microwave. they watch your timer as intently as you do. meanwhile, all you want to do is take your food and run while the person can't wait another second to eat. terrible really.
i went downstairs yesterday to warm up some angel hair marinara i had. since i do go down to the cafeteria around the 1 o'clock hour, mostly everyone is gone. those mundane people only eat between 11am-12:30pm. they rarely switch it up. quite sad. not that i mind not running into any of those filthy bastards. don't get me wrong.
i came back to my desk to read my rather interesting book and block everyone out for just a little bit. i'm good at that game. i zone out rather well. i have male tendencies like that. i munched down on my pasta, some blueberries and cheetos. yup. cheetos. i'm a cool daddio, rockin' on the patio. me and chester cheetah are the best of friends.
i got through out the rest of my day dealing with people, talking to them, doing all this pointless, useless crap that people actually consider good work. i talked to aimee most of my afternoon and i was meeting here at the nearby Super Kmart because she wanted to buy that new Veet product. have you heard of that? it's that razorless shaving product. kindof like nair, but new and improved with this little plastic thing that your supposed to scrap the hair off with. sounds scary, looks cool.
i met her as she was walking out of the store and we came to the conclusion we should go back to my place and try it out. i told her we could go to my place and SHE could try it out. if it worked, i'd be more than happy to use it. i was all about her trying out that chemical stuff on her skin. i'm terrible. i know. she just looked at me. her expression saying, 'so you want ME to get hurt with it FIRST.' hell yeah. i wasn't all about using that together.
aimee looks over at me and squints a little. i just sit there and stare at her. i don't even ask her what. we're weird yet cool like that.
"dude, what the hell is in your teeth?" aimee asks me.
sucking my teeth trying to dislodge whatever it is, "i don't know, man. i didn't know there was anything in my teeth." i reply.
"dude, i don't know what the hell it is," she says as she makes a move to my teeth to pick it, "but it kindof looks like you were sucking on your hair."
whoa. i pull down my mirror and smile. i'll be damned if i don't have some particle the color of my hair between my front teeth and something black over to the right between those teeth. wow. that's very visible. no one else ever said a word to me. no one. why is that? people talked to me. we laughed. we smiled. like they didn't see these monstrosities lodged into my teeth from lunch?? of course they did. they saw it. they looked at it. then they sent me on my merry way. filthy bastards.
no one told me at all. you know why? because they were all embarrassed for me for having some shit stuck in my teeth. i don't get that. people won't tell people when they have food in their teeth, snot running out of their nose, their zipper down, or some toilet paper stuck to their shoe. who cares how well you know the person!! let them know and fix it! if it was you, would YOU want to walk around like that?? hell no. so, help a sister out. i wouldn't even care.
that's why it's a good thing i have aimee. she lets me know when i have shit in my teeth. if i can't get it out, she'll pick it out for me. i, of course, return the favor to her. that's what friends are for. if i have some bats hanging out in the cave, she'd tell me then give me a tissue. or a napkin. or a piece of paper. whatever's lying around. if my zipper was down, she may wait a little longer just so she could get a few laughs out of it. that's all right. i'd do it to her too. and she doesn't wear underwear!!!
don't be embarrassed by other peoples food storage in their teeth. tell them. they really might not know. then again, they could be saving it for later.
peace and love,
beth
Jun. 24th, 2004 @ 07:59 am
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| » always pick your own color |
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i had a hair appointment the other day. i love those days where i get to go get my hair done. it doesn't matter if it's just a cut or a color. it's always fabulous to have someone else wash your hair and play with it. it just doesn't do it any justice when you play with your hair yourself. it's just not the same. a guy never seems to do it right either. but let me tell you, as soon as i sit back and put my head in that sink, i almost fall asleep. what an odd position to be comfortable to fall asleep in.
anyway, my appointment was originally at 3pm. then it switched to 2pm because i changed stylists. i was back with the original one i wanted. then they called and asked if i could switch with someone and come in at 4pm instead. someone must've had a hair emergency. i didn't care. it was saturday. i didn't have much planned till later on that evening anyway. whatever. then i get ANOTHER call from them. by this time, it's rather annoying. come on people! they push me back another half hour because my stylist is running behind. JESUS! ok, fine. i'll come in even a little later than before.
i hop in my car at 3:45pm. i give myself 45 minutes because i like to look around there and buy random products. i can't leave there without buying SOMETHING other than whatever i get done to my hair. it's almost like i need more proof i've been at a salon.
as i'm on my way, i realize that the outbound lanes of the parkway are closed down for construction this weekend. that's all right. i know my way around! i don't need the parkway! i have the BACK way!! i also have 45 minutes!! i'm rocking out.
i get to this one red light and as i'm sitting there, i take a look around. now, after this light, the left lane ends and people merge off a highway into the right lane. the people in the right lane, of course, never want to let them in. the people in the left lane are trying to speed around the people in the right lane and get in front of them so they can miss them AND the people getting off the highway. i'm in the left lane. don't fool yourself.
the light changes and i hit my gas. it's like a mini race. the guy beside me kicks it up a notch so i just decide to fall behind him and ride his bumper. quit acting like you all don't do it. i know you do. then we all just stop. stand still. become statues. i'm thinking we'll inch on now so we can all figure out what we're doing. their was probably some silver hair that realized they were in the wrong lane at the last second and will take and extra 10 minutes to get their boat to the other lane. yeah. that's what it has to be.
then i start to doubt that the longer i sit there. there is a solid lane of traffic to the left of me that needs to merge with mine. i'm in a solid line of traffic. and there's also a solid line to the right of my trying to merge into my lane! what a cluster fuck!!
i start to get irritated. some people start driving up on the median. i just stare at them and wonder if the honda can do it. i decide no. then, people behind me are cutting over to the right!! now, why are these people cutting into the lane that's merging off the highway. i'm confused. i start yelling obscenities. my middle finger goes flying through the air. i'm getting really irritated. i look at the clock. 4:20pm. i'm going to be late for my hair appointment. now i'm just plain PISSED.
i call up kristian, my boyfriend and start bitching about traffic and people and how they have a lack of driving skills, but I know what I'M doing so why can't they be more like me!! ah ha! i ask him how to get around this cluster fuck and he tells me more back ways. great. i get around it rather speedily. i guess that happens when they put up those stop signs with the white border around it. those are optional.
4:35pm. i am now offically late.
i call my salon and tell them i'll be later than the late they already made me. how frustrating this has become.
i whip into the parking lot 10 minutes later because i drove like a royal asshole the rest of the way there. i'm sitting there as my hair dresser makes an appointment for someone. i check out the things that i need to buy and set them on the counter so i don't forget. yes, that's right, need to.
she gets off the phone and asks me what i want to do today. we already picked out a cut i liked a few weeks earlier. it was similar to the one i have just a little shorter with a little more added style. just to add a little kick to keep me from getting bored with it. now i had to decide on color. i wasn't sure what i wanted to do at all. plus, i was getting my hair done because it was my sisters wedding next saturday in vegas. don't want to show up with green spikes for her.
as i'm sitting there, we talk about the possibilities, the spectrums, and all things possible with my hair. lighter, darker, highlights, etc. i tell her i'm thinking darker. i've done the light thing too long. she agrees and whips out a book. how about red? red? red. why not! what the hell?! i always really wished i was a red head anyway. not that i know my true color anymore. i could be a red head for all i know. but i think it's along the lines of some darker blonde hair. brownish really. nothing exciting. kind of dull really. she puts the book away without showing me. i think that's odd so i ask her to see it. she opens it and tells me it will be a mixture between 3 reds because of the colors i already have in my hair. all right, i get it.
"how conservative do you need to be for this wedding, anyway?"
oh boy. this is going to be interesting.
she decides she wants to wash my hair first. i never wash my hair before i get it dyed, but she decided she wanted to cut it first. i took my light blue bandanna off my head that hides all my hair when i don't feel like doing it. she laughs at my wold looking hair. it's flat where the bandanna was, yet spiky in the back. i look like a scared squirrel. i think i look kindof cute in a way.
i go over and sit down in the chair, tilt it and put my head in the sink. as soon at the water and her hands hit my head, my eyes close. i actually drift somewhere for a few minutes. when she tells me to sit up, i'm slightly startled. almost like someone woke me up from the middle of a nap. she's lucky i didn't scream. i need to be approached slowly.
we go to her chair and she starts cutting my hair. then she bust out these random pair of scissors and starts using them on me. when she makes the first cut, it makes the same sound as those BIG shears that you would use to cut bushes manually. my heart jumps. i know i have short hair already, but i don't want to be bald. or look like a lesbian. i ask her what the hell she's using. they were thinning shears because my hair is so thick and heavy. whew.
with my freshly cut hair she whips out this bottle with a comb looking thing on the end of it and starts applying this random color. i look at it and it's really bright. whoa. not that that's anything to get excited about. blonde color is a blue mixture. i just watch and we chat about random things. when she's done, she busts out some chemical and starts rubbing it around my hair line so it doesn't 'stain my skin.'
oh boy.
i sit there and look at myself. well, squint at myself in the mirror because i don't have my glasses on nor do i want to put them on and get this crap all over them. i pick up a piece of paper on her station and read it. it's a print out of everything i've had done to my hair since i started going to her. she prints it out every time she does my hair. i think that's a great idea. i read it. wow. i've had a lot done to me hair. WOW! i've been going there since 1999!! that's 5 years!! i hope i never move. or she never moves. i'd have to pack her up and take her with me if i left. or fly her to me wherever i was. if she moved, i'd have to stalk her down. regularly. i'd never get my hair done. ever. i'm picky like that. it would take me half a year or more to find someone i like and trust. i'm weird like that.
the timer rings and we go and rinse out my hair. i'm there longer this time. i sit there with a smile on my face and my head in the sink. hey, i never said i was normal. little things make me happy. she applys some other chemical that was to help the color set after she rinsed it. it was very cool on my head and i jumped a little.
i then go back to the other chair. yes, there is a lot of walking involved in getting your hair colored. she puts some products in it to add volume. i have that flippy, spiky hair and it helps hold it. she continues to dry my hair and style it as i sit there and squint at myself and jabber on about something or other.
she hands me my glasses and another mirror so i can see the back. i slip them on and stare into the mirror.
my sister is going to HATE it.
it's an intense red. looks like some of it is a darkish pink. that must've been where my lighter pieces were. i stare at it. and stare at it. and stare at it. i must say, i was a little shocked. i can't even begin to imagine what other people are going to say! it's not bad. i was just...surprised. she tells me she likes it. i say i do to. do i really like it? shit. we smile. i think everyone is going to be looking at me everywhere because i have a clown nose on my head. this is almost like when i turned my hair purple on accident. that's another story though. at another time.
i pay her, buy my things and head on out. i call aimee. this is something i definitely need my best friend for. she said she'd meet me at my apartment in a few hours. good. i need all the help i can get.
i do to go to see another friend and she tells me she loves it. a few other people that were there said the same thing. thanks. how sincere are these guys really? my friends little girl walks up to me and says:
"beth, did you dye your hair?" the little 3 year old asks me with her hands on her hips.
"yes, yes i did. do you like it?" i ask her. like a 3 year olds opinion really matters. i MUST be self conscious.
"well, it is a little red." she says.
she stressed the word red. a 3 year old thinks my hair is a little read. shit.
i leave shortly and head to my place. my friend is there waiting. it's 10pm by now. she opens the back door. the light is burnt out in front of that door so it's dark toward the bottom of the steps. there's just one light toward the top. as i go to turn down the steps, i her aimee before i can even say a word,
"oh. my. god. your hair is SO red. you look like a rock star."
my sister is going to hate it. on her wedding day, no less. she will hate my clown nose red hair that will be permanently in her pictures of her day for years to come. damn.
lots of love,
beth
Jun. 23rd, 2004 @ 08:45 am
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