the memoirs of a scared shitless girl

Well, I got approved for the apartment, now it's just looking for work. I'm scared but very excited to work hard. I hope it won't be another master control job, but I will definitely take what I can get for sure. I will have to update the name of this blog after I move if I can get internet. This entry blows, I'm sorry.

Two dreams? I must really like you.

Ah, Michael Rosenbaum. You have invaded my slumber on a couple of occasions. I don't understand it, but maybe it's because you are an extraordinary actor. Deep inside, I marvel at how well you perform.
Yes, you're an attractive gentleman but your portrayal of Lex Luther is something to be noted. Maybe one could say that Lex was the role you were born to play. Or at least that's what I think. And that is all I got.

Marriage is for the caveman

What's the point of marriage?


Marriages primary purpose was to bind women to men, and thus guarantee that a mans children were truly his biological heirs. Through marriage, a woman became a mans property. In the betrothal ceremony of ancient Greece, a father would hand over his daughter with these words:I pledge my daughter for the purpose of producing legitimate offspring. Among the ancient Hebrews, men were free to take several wives; married Greeks and Romans were free to satisfy their sexual urges with concubines, prostitutes, and even teenage male lovers, while their wives were required to stay home and tend to the household. If wives failed to produce offspring, their husbands could give them back and marry someone else. Source

So, why does every one want to be married? Especially in this day and age why are women wanting to get hitched? Are they doing it for romantic reasons? Maybe to get a diamond ring? Perhaps for religious obligation I suppose in some cases. (I know people that won't live together without marriage to appease the parents) I guess the majority is either romance or, it's what you're supposed to do. Some relations of mine always ask about marriage; to that I reply, why ruin the goodness? I'm at a good point in my relationship and it seems that making it legal just feels more binding. It indicates obligation: boy and I must appear together at public appearances and I must know where previously mentioned boy is at all times. Porno is outlawed and independence is a daydream and you must take boy's last name. Although, there are some exceptions to the rule as some of my nearest and dearest have not followed the prerequisites but you do see my point. I hope.


It's not that I am jaded from previous experiences, I just prefer not to do it and I feel that it is more of a financial contract than romantic rendevous.

Judge me if you must.

Existentialist wolf fighter

I have established that I am terrified of relocation. There are many changes that need to take place and I am scared to make them.

I need to stop watching so much tv, but to accomplish my goal I need to stop working in it. The daily internet fix has caused a depression in my brain. Once upon a time I didn't surround myself in technology; I read, spent less and took the time to appreciate my relations. Television is the source of my head trauma. When I was broke and worked less I was happy. Material goods are a let down unless they are thought-provoked, not holiday-inspired.
My hope is that I never work in a control room ever again, surrounded by one human's love affair and the absinthe to my soul.

I am a zombie, a creature of habit, a lackadasical robot who aspires to escape the bland core of daily life.

Probably

Your Famous Last Words Will Be:

"So, you're a cannibal."

What Will Your Famous Last Words Be?

Thanks, but I am ok.

Before I could go to the doctor, I needed to cleanse my colon-twice. I bought the twin pack of enemas: one two hours before the appointment, one the hour before. Already the idea of having a doctor's finger and other assorted instruments in my anus wasn't prompting me to put my party hat on, but to insert things myself seemed a little farfetched.

Oh Crap.

I complied with the doctor's orders, only to feel more bloated and gassy than previously. I guess my planning was off; this being my week of feminine bliss sort of complicates matters.

Arriving at the doctor's office with a open mind and a sweaty palm, I sat anxiously awaiting the verdict. 30 minutes later, I finally inquired as to why I was waiting so long. The illustrations on the enema box flash intimadatingly back into my mind. I scoff at them. I take a deep breath, my name is called, it's time. The good doctor lubes up all the required tools and takes jab at my rectum, who has already risen the white flag after enemafest '06. She explained to me that everything had healed on it's own, but to make sure, she inserts a hose light tube that blows air; which incited farty-noises. I partook in some chuckles but smothered them with faux coughs, because I am totally mature.

Finally, the poking and prodding stopped. I regained what was left of my dignity and rejoiced: for my rectum was cancer and polyp free, and Taco Bell owed me a couple of favors.

I got the lumps in me bum, I do!

I went to the doctor the other day and she did one of my personal fave exams: rectal. I knew this was coming and I tried to prepare for the worst. Her wandering finger in my brown eye didn't really set me at ease, but I remembered that early detection is important so I let her at it. She told me she felt a couple of peanut-sized lumps on my rectum and then began to question me about colon cancer. I sat there sort of listening, mostly concentrating on the word "Cancer".
Sometimes after I hear cancer, I like to add, "That's Hilarious!" But Amy Sedaris wasn't going to save my bum from the knife and I figured I should behave like an adult. Although the doctor did mention that the bumps could be from my bladder infection. I hope so. I really can't handle more stress; with moving and whatnot. I need to be healthy and strong. I guess I will be hoping for the best, wish me luck...

Numb Cookies

I accidently deleted my 15 pages of writing from the last year and a half.


Staring blankly at my monitor, I made some lame attempts to recover the precious documents from the wasteland of my hard drive. My best friend left town and she took her my little ponies with her. As frantic as I was, a revelation came to me: maybe this was my mind's way of telling me it's time to start over, clean slate. After all, it has been quite the heinous year. T-mobile bill fiasco, my aunt, work crap, __________ (fill in the blank), you get the point. I guess this blog is the only writing I have on file. I guess that means I have to dig out the ole notebook and get cracken.


Technology blows.

Tent, check. wild look in my eye, check.

The recruiter hasn't called me back yet and I am beyond stressed. The acne on my face has rarely ceased, and I want to apply for more jobs but I am uncertain that I can. I don't know when I am to recieve the call back for an interview. I might have to email the HR guy again to get a better answer; that is if I don't annoy him again. I just want this to be over with, I want to find a decent place (with refridgerator? NO, asking too much!) and have a job. Then I will deal with the rest of it.
Maybe I can just be homeless and buy a tent, sell all of my things and hope for the best. That would be kind of nice.

Good News, that sore should clear up after a week.

The recruiter called me the other day at work, after getting an email from HR stating that I was interested in a job opportunity. She mentioned that she didn't have my resume and I sent that along with the job that I have wanted. (Which I still could be rejected for or might not pay enough) I have a lot of hope for this, it would be a new job experience and it is something that I think that I would excel at. Besides, if I get shut down for a PA job I am going to be feeling a little down. Although I could always still apply for the master control position in Burbank; it is a definite possiblity. I feel that I should have applied for that one first knowing that I currently am in that field. Oh well, I guess I will just have to sink or swim. Wish me luck.

CV's are resumes, silly!

I sent off my resume along with a lame note on the top expressing my interest in the job. I haven't heard back yet but it is only day one and it is a holiday weekend so waiting around will have to do. Craigslist has never looked so dull to me; I can't stand to look at another page of available apartments.

I'll call you my daddy.

Here's hoping.
6/19/2006
Production Assistant
Hollywood, CA 6/24/2006 5:47:54 PM

We are seeking a “Production Assistant” for our “Hollywood, CA facility.”Job Responsibilities: Assist PPS’s in their Daily Needs, Making Labels, Placing Dub orders, etc
Job Qualifications: Basic knowledge of tape formats and understanding of post production

Noho to Soho to Boho to SoSo

The trip went exceedingly well; there were a few things that I found obnoxious but I'll save that for a private entry. This wall behind me was all painted this way, it was on day one. I spent a little more than what I wanted, but I didn't go too over budget.

I loved being there, I guess someday if I were to get offered a position on the east coast I probably wouldn't say no. It would be nice not to have to drive everywhere, but then you have to ride the train; initially it wouldn't be bad but after a while I think I would just want to jump into my car and go.

Home of the $10 a pack cigarettes

Yes, I will be flying into this lovely and large city in the end of may. My pockets; full of hope, and my heart, full of fear. No, no, I am really excited to go exploring. I haven't been on a fun trip since Europe, if you don't count Seattle. A nice city, but it sort resembles my hometown of Minneapolis. But next to an ocean and much more scenic. Although Seattle does win with the two vegan choices at the gas station. I am still in disbelief.
But mostly I am ecstatic about the museums, the food, the landmarks and just being in NY is pretty damn thrilling. At least for me, living in flyover country for my entire life. That's not to say I am sheltered, I just excite easily. Embarrassing, really.

Some debachery with my cohort

Moustache glory is not always attainable.
This would look good on you my friend.
Dignity escapes me

I'm glad that I work all weekend

Happy St. Patrick's Day one and all! Unfortunately for me I have to work all weekend long. Tomorrow I am back at work at 6:45am, work until 3pm, then come back for the exhilarating midnight till 8am shift. I don't know how I became so fortunate with these top rate hours. Luckily I will have plenty of time for relaxation and debachery on the 3rd shift. Maybe I will look up more Hasselhoff photos to um, enjoy during the long lonely hours...

Holy great wall of onion domes!

Lately I have been toying with the idea of going on the Trans-Siberian express. I mostly conjure up odd looks from co-workers when I mention it; why would I want to go through Siberia? Well friends, if you take a look at the map below it actually goes through a small slice of Siberia. You pass Lake Baikal, the Great Wall of China, prehaps go into Mongolia. There's this amazing list of stops to choose from. If you start out in Moscow, you can (should) stay there for a night or so to explore. I would go to Lenin's Mausleum in Red Square first but I suppose that's just my preference. Then you hop on the train for a few days then you can switch to the Trans-Manchurian express to go through Mongolia, stay a night, then go to China. Hang out in Beijing for a day or two then fly home. I'm going to do it.

Cheese Pizza is outta the closet.

I am a Vegetarian. I do not expect people to accommodate me when it comes to my diet and I do not accommodate them. I'm relatively easy (I do have my picky moments: ask my sister) when I go out, or at work and at functions. I generally scrape together something and not complain. Too much.
At work one time the talent ordered pizzas for everybody. Now, when this happens there is always that attempt to please everybody. I enjoy that and I usually eat cheese. Plain ole cheese pizza, no veggies. (Sometimes assumed that I eat veggie pizza and to be honest I can't stand the stuff. Unless it was just onions. MMmmm...) My co-worker and I were both vegetarian so we assumed that there would be plenty left amidst the sea of meat lovers.
Well, imagine my shock when I went for pizza and there were two slices left. Un-fucking-believable. Glanced over at other unrustled boxes, only a couple 'o slices missing from the supreme and the sausage. Same deal with the other meaty ones. Now, if I do recall, 20 minutes prior when everyone was shouting out orders, I along with my meatless comrade were mocked for not wanting "Delicious Meaty Meat Pizza" and just couldn't believe our dissent against the meaty pizza gods. I peek into the boxes again, yup, two slices.
Apparently there were more dissenters in our midst but refused to confess to the pillaged pizza. Why didn't they speak up? You know you can be inconspicuous about it if you say you just like cheese. But that's just too hard, I think that they didn't want to be outed. At our expense. And I was really hungry that day too.

More pictures from the Lions Den.

clouds made of chili cheese dogs

Dear Kirby, I know and understand that you apparently changed and influenced a lot of young people's lives. Growing up my stepbrother Tony would envy you and boast that one day he would become you. I, never a sports fan, really couldn't of cared less. I always thought you to be overweight and slightly cartoonish. But nevertheless, you charmed the good folk of Minnesota. As you got older, you lost your sight and decided that being a wife beater would be an excellent alternative to being a world series baseballer. Kirby, it was not you wife's fault for your grotesque weight gain or your newfound blindness. Maybe if you didn't eat so many chili cheese dogs you wouldn't have had a stroke.
Nothing personal Kirb, but now that my current employment has me surrounded in sports, your death has caused quite the brouhaha. The local news has people re-accounting their run-ins with you, "What a normal guy...he loved children..blah." I now have to deal with your death on a consistent basis until the good people are sick of it. Which I hope happens real soon.

Interesting

This is where the Gerbils are hiding out, an inside source reported.

Anybody?

You filthy swine! I know what you have done with my brain and now you sit, laugh and are merry whilst I drool unmenacingly all over my sunday's best! You are heartless, cruel and sort of have a pleasant appearance to you. But wait! I am not complimenting you, only insisting that you have the up most guilt for my condition. Damn you, gerbils, Damn you to hell.

Mongoloids?

Dear faithful reader,

I am not who you think I am. A small troupe of husky tap dancing gerbils have stolen my cerebrum for who knows and I am now relegated to a wheelchair, drooling all over myself. Which at times has been comforting.
My caretaker has left me in the middle of a playground, which I have likened to a battle field. Mongoloid, the children point and shout; I have never felt so sub-human. Perhaps when those dastardly rodents return my brain (I have not yet given up hope) I will stop making fun of the retards.