The One With a New Apartment and Chickless Chicken

I've figured out what it is I needed to make myself write in this thing more often.

If you look to the right of the page? That little pink box with numbers in it? That's all I needed.

I'm an attention whore. I make no bones about this. I know it, you know it, D knows it. . .that's all that matters. Awareness. I had 5 hits yesterday, and now I have 31. That makes me happy. I'm not entirely sure where I got the correlation between how much I write and how many people read, but. . .it doesn't matter.

Signing the papers for the new apartment tomorrow. This is a big thing, actually, because I've never had a real, grown-up apartment before. When I lived in the mountains, I had an apartment, but it was actually a makeshift apartment in a big house. I mean, I had a bedroom, kitchen, den, bathroom. . .but on the whole, it was in a big house. I've never lived in a legitimate "this was built to be apartments" space. And that's cool. The place is nice, and there's a place to work out, so I no longer have the excuses of it being too expensive/too far away/I'm too lazy. I can still be lazy, but it's harder to do when the place is right outside your door. I'm anticipating sleeping on the floor for a while, what with the lack of bed, but it'll at least be a nice floor.

They're calling for snow and "winter weather" tonight and this weekend but, like I told D, I'll believe it when I see it. Sure, 10 years ago or so, they said it was going to flurry and we ended up with like 2 feet of snow, but that is a true rareity. It just doesn't really snow here. People up North know where it's at. It snows and they're all like, "Whatever. Hand me an ice scraper." It snows here, and people freak out. "Oh my God, go buy bottled water! And batteries! And bread! And milk! And a generator so the milk doesn't go bad!" No, correction. It THREATENS to snow here and people do that.

A couple of weeks ago, there was a slight chance of snow that actually ended up being rain, and every county around here was on a 2-hour school delay. Sometimes they cancel school because someone thinks they might have heard someone say it may or may not snow. Just the word is enough to cause mass panic. When I lived in the mountains, it was really surprising to me how much people just didn't care that it was snowing. If the flurries we had up there were had here, school would close early, people would leave work so they didn't get stuck on the freeway, etc. There, people were like, "Oh. Snow. Better put on a hat. Or maybe not. I'm too badass for a hat."

I was informed this morning by this guy, A, I'm working on this project with, that the part of the project I'm working on right now has already been done. I'm literally re-doing this part of this project, because even though people have been told it's already been done, apparently, no one's listening. This is what they're paying me to do.

I'm excited about moving into the apartment because I'm going to have an oven and a normal-sized fridge. I've been living in this extended-stay place since November, and it has an itty-bitty fridge (think the kind you'd have in a college dorm) and no oven. Food prep has been a hassle. We've been eating a lot of sandwiches. Last night's were actually really good; I found a recipe for Cobb Sandwiches (like a Cobb Salad, but on a sandwich), and they had avacado, lettuce, egg, "chicken," bacon, and a mixture of mayo and blue cheese dressing. I put chicken in quotation marks because I went to Trader Joe's, anticipating the pre-cooked chicken breasts I've gotten before, and they were nowhere to be found. I didn't want to spend the money on a big bag of pre-cooked chicken (which would not fit in the freezer), so I got fake chicken. Tofoicken. Chickless Chicken. D liked it. I gave him mine, because I thought it was gross. But having an oven will not only allow me to bake again (YAY!), but also have a wider range of foods I can make for dinner.

The One With a Letter to Scam Artists

Dear Craigslist Scam Artists,

I hate you all. "Hate" is not an emotion that I have for too many people. In fact, I can only think of two right offhand. One doesn't need to be mentioned, and the other is Matthew McCaughnahay or however the eff you spell his name. But all of you are now on that list. There's a special level of hell for you, and I think it includes a radio station that plays "This is the Song That Never Ends," "It's a Small World After All," the theme song to Barney, and "99 Bottles of Beer on the Wall" on an endless loop, nothing to eat but the one last bite of your favorite things, and a movie theatre that only shows $9.50 versions (no matinees) of "How to Lose a Guy in 10 Days," "Jersey Girl," and all movies starring Vin Diesel or "The Rock" in a serious acting role. And shows like "I'm a Celebrity. . .Get Me Out of Here" are the only things on TV.

I have found several jobs on craigslist, and have sent e-mails to find out about them. What I keep getting back is an e-mail from someone in your "H.R. Dept." telling me that my resume has exactly what you're looking for, and that I should immediately go to this Web site (for which you have, so kindly, provided the link) and give you all of my information, INCLUDING my social security number, because you need to run a credit check on me.

I'm guessing "credit check" means "stealing my identity." But no. I will not give you my SSN, and all of you can just go to hell for putting up jobs that people desperately need in just an attempt to steal their identities. I hope you all die horrible deaths involving having to listen to Celine Dion and her husband talk about their love life and that you lose your own job immediately. Then I hope you go to craigslist to find a new one and give some hacker YOUR SSN so they can steal your miserable, worthless identity.

Kisses,
Sarah

The One With Obnoxious Stick Figures

Good morning.

Didn't want to get out of bed this morning. Did NOT. I wanted to call in lazy. But I have a feeling calling my boss and saying, "You know, I don't really feel like getting up at this particular time. I don't think I'll be in today," wouldn't get me too far. Unless by "too far," you mean back on the unemployment line.

I read an article earlier about Twitter, and how it may have "flatlined." This actually makes me quite sad, because I feel the compulsive need to let everyone know what I'm doing/thinking always, and if it loses popularity, they might shut it down, and I might not be able to obsessively tell people what I'm up to. These are the things I think about. Maybe I should go and make a record of all of my updates so I can have a record of all the witty, intriguing things I've said in the last year or so in my 1,503 posts.

I was cut off in traffic today by a person with those really, really annoying stick figures of their families. These things annoy me more than I could possibly put into words. D disagrees with me. He thinks they're cute. I, on the other hand, want to pull people that have these on their car over, slap them, and say, "You're welcome." You get minus 50 points for having them on your car and minus another 10 for each instance of (1) pets, (2) pet names, and (3) people names. Putting names under your little stick people is just ASKING for someone to lure your kids away.



"Hi there. . .(looks at window). . .Amber. Your Mommy. . .Jenny. . .wanted me to come pick you up and bring you back home, because your Daddy. . .John. . .is going to be in the store for a very long time. How is your puppy. . .Fido doing?"



You see what I'm saying? It's unsafe and dorky. And not dorky in a good way, like the T-shirts that say, "I'm an English major. You do the math." Dorky like, unexcusably dorky. The variations on the theme (i.e. Jesus fish for how many people are in your family, pairs of sandals for how many people are in your family, etc.) are still relatively unacceptable, but better than the stick people. The one concession I will make is the other night, when I saw a bunch of them on the back of a minivan (it's almost ALWAYS a minivan) and it was a little family all wearing UNC jerseys. That was kind of cute. Plus, the names weren't under them, so they weren't encouraging child abduction.

That's all I'm saying.

The One With Profanity and Cupcakes

I'm going to share with you a commercial that, inexplicably, makes me laugh like a maniac. There's one particular part. . .the rest isn't terribly funny, but the kid with the sousaphone makes me laugh. Maniacally. He shows up around the :10 mark.




That kid makes me laugh. So. Hard. What irritates me, though, is the chick that holds up the appendages and says something about not spending, "one of these and one of these. . .an arm and a leg." C'mon, T-mobile. . .you give your potential customers no credit. I think that bit would have been hilarious if she hadn't clarified. The guy buying from "Schnitzel and Things" is pretty funny, too.

Not a lot to report, really. Still working at the same place. People still think it's funny when I tell them I work in the Accounting Department. (I get it. I'm bad at math. It's irony. Get over it.) I kept track of the number of times The Blonde One used profanity on Friday. . .my tally sheet isn't right in front of me, but I'm pretty sure it was 15 uses of the F-word, 3 uses of the MF-word, and 20-something various other obscenities. D and I (and by "D and I," I mean "D") figured out that, broken down, it came out to one obscenity every 5 minutes and 35 seconds. . .or something ridiculous like that. 5 minutes and something. That seems. . .vaguely unprofessional.

So, needless to say, I'm still looking for a full-time job. I need to call this woman who e-mailed me about a position at a local magazine, but, unfortunately, it's not a full-time job that pays. . .anything. I feel like, though, if I want to do something in that industry at all, I need to start over from scratch. Which sucks, but it's kind of necessary. I've been out of full-time, permanent work for almost a year now (it'll be a year in. . .10 days. Wow.) and I'm just wanting to do something I like. Preferably something not profanity-laden.

Don't get me wrong. I'm not against profanity as a rule. I'm a fan, actually. I don't care about the people who are like, "Profanity is for unintelligent people who have no other words to use and nothing better to say." Well, no. I'm relatively intelligent. I have a lot of words in my arsenal. Sometimes, it's just necessary. And it feels good. But like all good things, it should be used in moderation. You wouldn't sit down and drink a bottle of whisky, would you? (Maybe you would. You shouldn't.) My point is, there's a line, and The Blonde One crosses it on a daily basis, and I'm kind of surprised she still has a job.

So the anniversary of my firing is coming up, and Valentine's Day is also coming up. At least Valentine's Day comes with cheap candy the day after. I feel like cupcakes should be a thing that happens, to commemorate. Also, D's and my relationshipiversary is in February. I don't actually know how to do that. . .anniversaries for things when you're not married. My mom and SDad do anniversaries like. . .the anniversary of the first time he called her at work and the anniversary of the time she drove 45 minutes to bring him chocolate chip muffins she'd baked. (Seriously.) They also do the anniversary of their first date. It was 10 years ago this year (February, incidentally, I think.) and I don't know if they still do this, but they used to wear the same outfits and go to the same restaurant. (Red Lobster, if I'm not mistaken.)

And all that came from. . .cupcakes. February is a hopping month, apparently, and I think cupcakes are probably a thing that needs to happen. Funfetti, with the good icing, not the crap they're trying to pass off as Funfetti icing these days. (If you're wondering, the correct Funfetti icing, more commonly called "Rainbow Chip" is the vanilla-looking one that has. . .rainbow chips in it. Don't even believe anyone when they try to tell you that the vanilla icing with the sealed packet of oblong jimmies, or circular jimmies on top is a Funfetti icing. They are lying to you and should be slapped.

Unacceptable.

The One With Funny Pictures I Did Not Take

I have nothing of importance to discuss today. However, I have this:

and this:

The One Where the Customer is Not Always Right

I've got one of those things on my mind today that, the more you sit and think about it, the more irritating it becomes.

That whole thing about the customer always being right? That's BS. All that's done is launch a whole subculture of people who are rude to waiters, customer service reps, and anyone else doing them a service.

What's got me thinking about this are the calls The Boy One and The Blonde One take during the day. The Blonde One had a woman on the phone this morning screaming at her because she didn't like the way her contract was set up. In theory here, I think that maybe you should read a contract before you sign it. Also, I'm pretty sure The Blonde One had nothing to do with that contract, so why don't you shut up and behave like the adult you are supposed to be.

It all reminds me of when I was working for a newspaper. For whatever reason, the editor had it in their head that whenever someone with a complaint called or e-mailed or came in, we were supposed to take their abuse and give them what they wanted.

No, I'm sorry. No. If the pollicy clearly states that engagement announcements must be received a month before the wedding in order to make sure there's time to run it before the actual day, don't come to me on a Thursday while I'm putting together Friday's newspaper and tell me that this engagement HAS TO RUN in the next day's paper, because the wedding is on Saturday. I'm sorry, no. I'm not going to do it. (Well, I did when the editor made me.) But really? There are rules for a reason. These are not optional.

Another thing that always got me was the obituary page. I understand that you can't plan for someone dying, but you CAN wait for the next issue of the paper to get the obituary in if the person doesn't die in time for you to make the 4 o'clock deadline. I don't understand the purpose of having a deadline if I'm going to be told to put in everyone that comes in AFTER said deadline.

I lost my train of thought for this post. Point being, if it's your own fault for being stupid, don't blame the person you call to try to help you.

The One With Alarm Clocks

It's Wednesday.

(I think.)

It's Wednesday, and that means after today, the week only has two more days of work in it. I'm pretty sure that, for the length of time I've been at this job, I have yet to work a full week. In weeks past, today would be the last day of my work week. I may or may not go into shock tomorrow when my (wretched) alarm clock goes off.

Speaking of alarm clocks, I have found something intriguing, and it is called a sun lamp alarm clock. The theory is that you will be woken up by a simulated sunrise, and it's not as harsh a wake-up call (so to speak) as a regular alarm. I think I could definitely get behind something like that, but I would be really concerned that it wouldn't wake me up. I fluxuate between being a really light sleeper and a really heavy sleeper, so the nights where I slept heavily? I wonder if the "alarm" would wake me up.

"Sorry, boss. I didn't hear my sunrise this morning."

You know how things are brought to your attention, randomly, and you realize it's something you've never thought about before, and then you sit and contemplate it forever? On one of the ads for the sunrise clock, it mentioned it was great for deaf people. This blew me away. I'd never really thought about that before. Can deaf people use alarm clocks? I imagine that there's some kind of vibrating something or other clock that they can use, but I'd just never thought about it before.

(OK, on further Googling consideration, apparently, the vibrating thing was right. Some people have really loud alarm clocks that they can "feel" the vibrations from when it goes off, and some people put vibrating alarm clocks underneath their pillows. And my Googling brought me to yet another horrifying question: If a deaf person is asleep, how would they hear a fire alarm go off? Apparently, they have special alarms for things like that, but man.)

While I'm on the subject, it kind of reminds me of my senior year of college. . .the dormpartment I lived in had some handicapped rooms. One of my friends lived in one of these, and it was really cool, because not only did the door have a peephole at the normal eye level, there was also one lower, presumably for people in wheelchairs. They also had a giant shower (again, probably for the people in wheelchairs), but the coolest thing was the "doorbells." Each room had a light in it, and if you rang the "doorbell" for their room, a light would flash. For deaf people, I assume.

These are the things I think about when I have nothing to do at work. (Which I don't.)

I applied for a promising-looking publishing job around here today. It would be. . .supremely nice to get that, because it looks like something I'd like to do, and there's room for advancement. That was the thing about the paper I worked at. . .I'd literally gone as high as I could without being the editor or publisher or something. Since the current editor would literally have to be dragged out kicking and screaming (or dead), that was never an option for me. But I'm tired of temping and I want back into publishing.

I kind of feel like I'm going to have to start from the ground up again. Not looking. . .so much forward to that prospect, but I guess everyone has to start (over) somewhere. Mostly, though, I want a job where I do things. Getting paid to do nothing is all fine and dandy, but it gets boring after a while.

And an update: C made a Web site to track Little J's progress. He's made progress in some areas, not as much progress in others, but he's got a veritable army of people thinking about him, so that's good: www.caringbridge.org/visit/johnmoorefield