Ravioli Caper = UNACCEPTABLE!

I consider myself a little bit of a humanitarian.  I generally brake for pedestrians, occasionally hand my spare change to bums who haven’t yelled at me before and while I have on occasion been known to steal a person’s shoe(s) off of their feet and then attempt to throw said shoe(s) up on to a second floor balcony, I usually do not.  I’m all for completing superhuman feats to raise money to fight terrible diseases, I believe that we are all born as equals and should treat each other as equals, and I am extremely sad that there are people who probably live in my neighborhood who can’t afford to meet the basic needs of their families.

Having said that, you can’t steal my flipping lunch and expect me to be ok with that.

Let me take you back, long, long ago, to a time called “Wednesday.”  I arrived at work early, lovingly placed my frozen ravioli meal in the freezer in the front break room, and continued with my day, confident with the knowledge that I would have a hot, cheesy lunch a few hours later.  I won’t even milk the fact that I spend my days at work actively working to protect vulnerable children and adults.  Nope, won’t milk that one at all.  Anyway-

Lunch time rolled around and I clocked out, put my plastic fork in my pocket, and made my way to the break room, anticipating what was sure to be a delicious (and low-calorie!) lunch.  Except when I opened the freezer, my ravioli wasn’t where I’d left it.  Confused, I moved some things around.  Nope, definitely not there.  So I checked the other freezer, in case I’d accidentally smoked some crack and forgotten that I’d a) smoked crack, and b) put my lunch in the other freezer.  Nope, no ravioli.  As I stood there in the break room, lost and confused, a wave of realization washed over me: some mothereffer had stolen my freaking lunch.

Seriously, Lunch Thief?  This is how you behave?  Stealing people’s food that they are obviously expecting to eat from the freezer, without so much as a courtesy note?  A hastily-scribbled “Thanks for the ravioli!” Post-It left on the freezer would have been sufficient.  At least then instead of thinking of Lunch Thief as a weasel who is too lazy to get their own lunch I would think of Lunch Thief as a kind of ballsy and smart-ass lunch room Robin Hood.  I could respect a lunch room Robin Hood.  Weaselly Lunch Thief, though?  Can suck it.

Part of me hopes that Lunch Thief gets the help they need – be it financial help or help for the crazybrain.  The other part of me hopes that Lunch Thief burned their thumbs on the plastic ravioli container and that it didn’t taste all that delicious after all.

As for me, since I’d already clocked out my options were limited, but Jenn and I managed to book it to Wendy’s and I got one of those Baja Wrap thingers that are actually pretty good by fast food standards.  Also props to Jenn who talked me down from posting a Passive Aggressive Note on the refrigerator door that probably would have gotten me fired.  But Lunch Thief, you’re on notice!  I’m happy to assist if you need help buying your own food, but be careful what you steal out of the break room refrigerators, I’ve been known to confuse soap for peanut butter and make some extra funky sandwiches.  Hell hath no fury like a woman without lunch!

Super Disco Laptop Screen

When Rygel was a puppy, he chewed things.  Luckily, as he’s grown this has stopped, but during his lengthy chewing phase he managed to get at least one of each of my favorite pairs of shoes, my iPod, and my laptop power cord.  He chewed nothing of D’s, mind you, which apparently means I’m his favorite but is little consolation after losing my favorite pair of comfy and cute work shoes to little Jaws the pug puppy.  This entry isn’t about my shoes, though.  It really isn’t even about the chewing of my power cord.  What I’m whining about today is that after replacing the power cord the new one sucks.

The original lasted a good long while after being chewed.  At first it was just that the plastic part around the prong thinger was chewed and missing a few pieces.  Eventually, though, there were exposed wires, the prong thinger was bent at a funny angle, and it started getting really hot after being plugged in for a few minutes.  Suck!  So to avoid possible fire and/or electrocution, I ordered a new one.  Unfortunately, this one seems to have issues.  It has developed some kind of crack in the hard plastic housing around the prong (I can’t blame the dog for this one – I really don’t know how it happened) and now only powers or charges the laptop when it feels like it.  This is obnoxious.  Using a handy trick I learned from the last power cord and the sparkler bomb boys, I have electrical taped the heck out of it to try and keep it steady, but sometimes it’s just not interested.

The real problem with this isn’t the fact that I have to constantly wrangle the power cord into a position that it is comfortable charging the laptop in.  No, the problem is that my laptop “helpfully” enters power save mode every time the cable disconnects a little bit, dimming the screen.  Then two seconds later it changes its mind and powers back up, brightening the screen.  Annnnd, repeat.  And repeat.  And repeat.  It’s like a freakin disco light.  At this time I have managed to find a way to hold the cable in place using an rather complex network of weights including my iPod, the roll of electrical tape, and the edge of the coffee table.  It seems pretty content to just chill right now but I know I’m vulnerable to the Disco Bomb at any moment.  F you, cheap laptop cord!  But please don’t die until I feel like buying another one.

Re-Running

I have many love/hate relationships in my life.  Math, TV dating shows, dessert, etc.  But the greatest of all of my love/hate stories has been running.  I love running, in theory: it’s my own time, I can crank up whatever music I want and push myself to literally go farther than I thought was possible.  It is an amazing challenge and there’s a great sense of accomplishment each time I finish a good run, not to mention the obvious health and body benefits that come with a habit of regularly getting my butt out there for a few miles a day.  BUT, then comes the hate.  The five or ten minutes directly before a run where I dread actually getting out on the road/sidewalk/trail/treadmill/track (ugh, track is the worst!), the point somewhere along the way where my energy drops, my shoes seem to weigh 50 pounds each, I hate every song on my iPod, and all there really is to do is keep moving because if I stop then I have to WALK back and when I get there I’m even crankier because if I walked it I obviously could have run it so WTF, lazy person, get back out there and do it again.

Anyway- the running.  A few years ago I took it up pretty seriously and stuck with it and have never been healthier or more fit in my entire life, counting the thirteen years I spent playing competitive soccer.  I even managed to cross over from a love/hate relationship to the kind where you love it all the time but sometimes you maybe get a little annoyed by it because it’s 104 degrees outside and it’s forcing you up another hill, but you are so excited about how good you’ll feel afterward you don’t even mind that you can’t feel your toes.  But you know how it its- life got in the way, I got lazy, I drank a lot of beer, I watched some TV, got a full-time job, and at the end of the day instead of wanting to put on my Nikes and run around I just wanted to sit on the couch, complain about whatever bride yelled at me that day, and watch whatever trashy reality fare the networks had to offer.  So the relationship went from love/hate to love, back to love/hate, and eventually to that awkward post-breakup state where you just kind of avoid each other altogether.  I’ve tried a few times before to get back on the road but I always end up getting frustrated and comparing myself to where I used to be, so I just kind of stopped going.  I’ve managed to stay relatively active most of the time, since I’ve been paying for this ridiculous gym membership, but even though I love kickboxing, spinning, and yoga, nothing really holds my attention like running.

So I’m picking it back up.  Yay!/Boo.  I started on Sunday and am starting sloooow.  Like, really slow.  And I’m being ok with it!  Patience has never been my thing but I feel like I learned a lot about it during the summer and I’ve gotten better at it, so I’m trying this new thing called “chilling out” where I don’t get mad and instead just try to tell myself that it WILL get easier.  Plus it’s not helping that I picked the second week of September to get started, when the temp’s still in the high 90s until well after sunset.  But whatever, it’s gonna get easier.   I haven’t set any goals yet but I’m eying the half-marathon in February- who knows?  I’m just glad that I’m doing it.  Except for Monday night when I went the sun was already down and it was getting hard to see and I almost got run the frick over by a ten-year-old speeding down the sidewalk on a bike without a helmet on.  Pay attention, child!  I’d be pretty annoyed if I was sidelined with massive trauma at the very beginning of my re-run.

The End of the Tunnel!

I should have posted this like a week ago when it happened but I’ve been a little bit in shock and haven’t wanted to jinx myself or anything weird, but that job?  The one I “really really” wanted, that was so much better than the retail-related one I’d been offered, that the competition was so ridiculously tough for that my chances were literally 1/400?  Yeah, I got it.  FTW!  And then I totally geeked out on the phone with the hiring specialist when he called to make the offer, I was like “Are you serious?  This is AWESOME!  I’m so excited thisisamazing!!gurblegurble(unintelligible)THANKYOUSOMUCH!”  He didn’t seem to mind, though, I think he was excited that I was so excited.  At least I hope so!

So I’ve been a bundle of glee for the last week, floating around and being just generally super excited.  It’s pretty much my perfect job, directly helping people who need it through a state agency, awesome hours, weekends off, which is especially huge since I’ve spent the past four-ish years in retail working pretty much every weekend and a lot of late evenings.  And I’m pretty much beside myself with the awesome.

My training class starts later on this month so for the time being I’ve got a little downtime to do…yeah, what am I going to do?  Well right now I’m blogging and watching a shark attack show on Discovery, which is pretty much an awesome morning, but in the past week I’ve already re-watched seasons 1-4 of “The Office”, done a lot of hanging out with the puglet, and knitted one and a half hats.  Now I need to figure out what “else” to do.  Thanks to being the new kid in the office I won’t have a whole ton of time off for the next…ever, so I am trying to find a balance between not going crazy with boredom and relaxing as muuuuuch as possible.  I’ve thrown out some pretty good ideas- buy a bike, master Bikram yoga, get certified to Scuba dive, get another dog to be friends w/Rygel when I go back to work, and solve the world hunger crisis, but apparently all of those things require money which, unfortunately, there isn’t much of these days thanks to two people and a dog living on one person’s income.  So instead I’ll be exploring a variety of cheap-to-free activities and also knitting a lot.  Hats for everyone!

Feast or Famine

Turns out, job searching is hard.  It’s not so much finding jobs to apply for, it’s more like making the right choices about when to accept interviews, jobs, etc.  The last thing I want to do is screw anybody over (especially myself).  I’ve cast a pretty broad net, applying with several companies in several different fields, everything from retail to health care, and I’m just barely starting to see teensy tiny returns on it.  This week I was accepted to a teacher certification program, got offered a pretty cool part-time job, was asked to interview with one of my favorite retail companies, and found out I’m still in the running for the job that I really want, which I thought I’d blown my chances on after taking their online assessment and being totally, utterly confounded by bits of it.  I probably shouldn’t advertise that part, but apparently I did ok on it so I guess it’s alright.

Anyway – I can’t do all of it.  So how do you pick and choose?  Does it hurt to go to an interview just to satisfy your own curiosity about what your life might look like if you decide to work for this company?  Of course I want to pursue my first choice, but in the mean time do I accept a backup?  It’s far from a sure thing, so it’s smart to have a backup, right?  But then there’s that thing about screwing people over.  I don’t want to waste anybody else’s time or energy to train me for a job that I’m going to leave after a short amount of time when the thing I really want comes around.  Work opportunities are feast or famine, apparently.  I can’t wait until things calm down and I do have some kind of steady work so I can write no fewer than seven awful but best selling novels and then just work for fun.  ‘Til then, capitalism can bite me.

Back to Blog

Well, school’s officially OVER!!  Feels kind of crazy.  I checked my final transcript this morning and yup – sure enough got that sweet little “all requirements have been met” message and there were my Summer II grades, three pretty A’s all in a row.  Combine that with my 2 A’s and B (thaaaanks, Prof Carter ) and I ended up with just over a 3.8 for the whole summer.  That doesn’t suck, but I’m not going to pretend it wasn’t maybe the hardest time I’ve ever had.  About 7000 miles of commuting (120 mi/day, 5 days a week) plus 18 hours of some of the most difficult coursework I’ve ever had, half of them “writing-intensive” courses, and I’m pretty much beat.  Kind of punch-drunk, I guess, where the adrenaline and stubbornness kept me 100% focused on just getting done for almost 12 weeks, and now that it’s over there’s nothing to do but stagger around, disoriented, like Rocky.  Yo, Adrienne, guess who just made summer school their BITCH?

Today has been the first day that I’ve actually felt slightly normal not waking up at 5:00 and commuting 60 miles by 7:30.  And it’s tempting to want to just sit and not do a whole heck of a lot but unfortunately the bank account is SAAAD and it’s time for me to go find a j-o-b.  Or at least to get a jump on taking off these lovely 12 pounds I’ve put on since June.  Seriously – that’s like a pound a week!  So I think included in all of that is getting back to the blog.  There might not be a ton of exciting stuff in the next couple weeks but, whatevah, I’ll find something to write about. It’s just nice to be coming back to life after working like a machine all summer!

Much love!

Nobody Panic!

Yeah so I’ve been extremely MIA this whole summer, I know.  It’s been completely crazy, tons of class work and just making sure that I have all my ducks in a row (there are a lot of ducks and they’re all ADHD) for THIS FRIDAY when I will amazingly, miraculously, joyfully, FINALLY wander across the stage @ Strahan and be DONESKIS with school.  Thank goodness!

Unfortunately I have to stay focused a little while longer while I finish up the week, but in THREE WHOLE DAYS this whole mess will be behind me and I will have nothing left to do but the sickly sweet business of seeking, researching, and tap-dancing (or what my beloved former supervisor Adrienne used to call “the dog and pony show”) to try to find a job.  But that’s a whole different day – for now I’m just focused.  Two papers, three finals.  Three days.  360 miles.  OMFG.

Lingo

As far as 8:00 am classes go, my Spanish class is on the “way less sucky” end of the spectrum.  It’s actually a little bit enjoyable.  In fact, if it took place at a reasonable hour I would probably really like it.  The professor makes it interesting, especially when he brings in the awesomeness of Spain (his native country) versus the “nice try” America (my native country).  He doesn’t mean it in a bad way, I don’t think, and there’s not much to say when discussing soccer (Prof: “Well…the US beat Spain this year.  But it was in the Confederation Cup and that’s not really a big deal….”  Brave Guy In Class: “So you’re saying they didn’t play hard?”  Prof: backpedals quickly…) or basketball (Prof: “…the US beat Spain in the Olympics.  But…goes on to talk about some rule that the refs didn’t enforce…”).  It’s not nearly as hostile as it all sounds.  In fact, it’s hilarious and good-spirited and all in fun.  On my part, anyway.

On the other hand I’m having a bit of trouble with the language itself.  I haven’t had a Spanish class since 2003 and since then managed to learn and forget a large quantity of conversational Italian (I misssssss Switzerlaaaaand!) so I’m struggling a little.  Most of the rest of the class is, too, as far as “nobody remembers this stuff from Spanish classes of yore” so at least I’m not alone in that boat.  Understanding my classmates, though?  Also difficult.  This is one of my few classes where I’ve actually run in to the “Wow I’m totally so much older than all of you” issue, and it’s bizarre and hilarious and the things that they say are weird and crack me up.  Is this the “Sponge Bob” generation?  Sponge Bob’s been around ten years now – my 19 and 20 year old classmates totally grew up with Sponge Bob.  Holy bananas, you guys, that’s ridiculous.  That just makes me want to barf a little bit. :-/ I felt like my grandma when this kid was like “What happened to me last night was so fucked up!” and I said “Oh no!” and he goes “…no, like, it was…good.”  Ohhhh.  You mean good fucked up.  I didn’t even know that was a thing.

I remember when I first heard my grandma say that something was “cool.”  No matter what, she’s never been quite able to pull that one off – it comes off as unnatural.  It’s totally like she’s thinking “Ugh, the stupid-sounding crap I have to say to make my grandchildren understand me!” every time she does it but my grandmother is AWESOME so she puts up with it.  But can you imagine me, in fifty years, trying to talk to my grandkids?  “Oh, honey, the home run you hit was fucked up!!”  Oh good Lord.  Help.

Gravity vs. Shelf

As you might have noticed from previous posts, I am in love with Ikea.  I can’t wait to get a job so that I can fill our already-crowded home with space efficient, minimalist, angle-y furniture with cool names like “Sjrask” and “Voort.”  Back when I was employed, I purchased this awesome wall shelf to display some of our cool stuff on.  Nothing large or heavy, just some wood carvings that D and I have gotten on two separate trips to Belize, some photographs, and my grandpa’s Belton Tigers ball cap.  I had the shelf for about two weeks before I fiiiiinally got D to mount it up on the wall of the living room in what I thought was a safe place.

NOT A SAFE PLACE!!!  It turns out that when people are sitting on the couch it’s out of the way, but when people are crowded around our coffee table playing Apples To Apples (“–Things that are shiny!” “–The Challenger explosion!”) and maybe consuming a few beverages the location of the shelf became…inconvenient.  And when I say “inconvenient” I actually mean “that’s where Cam wanted to put his head instead.”  The shelf itself stayed on the pegs that hang out of the wall but an avalanche of my stuff came crashing to the floor.  Luckily Cam wasn’t injured, but this happened:

Really though, the fact that maybe the shelf was poorly placed became apparent when later that night D smacked his head on it.  So by then I’d had to move most things off of it because a) both wood carvings were broken, and b) it could barely hold its own weight.  Cam made good on his promise to fix the toucan (“It’s no big deal, I just broke a symbol of their love!”) and it came back as good as new!  D tried resetting the shelf on the wall, but it still hung at a kind of precarious angle and I didn’t feel comfortable putting more than just a few photos and a (never-to-be-lit) candle on it.

Then a few weeks later Androo hit it with his arm and that was the end of the shelf.  Gravity, FTW.  I can outsmart gravity for a little bit, though, so I went back to Ikea (like I needed a reason…) and bought cute little mirror things to go over the now-pretty-giant holes in the wall where the shelf had been (and been, and been) and I had D put the shelf up again, this time over the TV, six feet off the ground, where it looks awesome and nobody’s going to bother it because c’mon, it’s way over there and way off the ground!

Um, except for that gravity still hates me and my shelf, apparently, because earlier this week I was looking for my headphones and for some reason D checked behind the TV annnnd…yes.  Head + Shelf x D’s freakish tallness = My stuff all over the floor, again.  Oh, also?  Broken toucan.  For the FAIL!

In other news, I’m on WordPress now, this is freaky!

Heads Up, We’re Moving!!

So I’ve been slacking like a mofo the last couple of weeks, blog-wise, because I’m buried neck-deep in schoolwork. Seriously – it’s not pretty. My brain’s in overdrive and the brakes won’t be back ’til Aug. 14. Which, in case anyone’s curious, is in 45 days. Not that I’m counting or whatever, it’s just that I know these things. Because I wrote them in my planner about 100 days ago.

Right, so back to the point – my blog’s moving! New name, new URL, etc. There are a few reasons for this move, mostly because I’ll be off to the “Real Grown-Up World” soon and in order to keep it REALLY real on the blog I’ll need to be slightly more anonymous. I don’t want to censor myself EVER but I also really, really would hate to ever write something that reflected poorly on any potential or actual employer.

It’s all good, though, not much else will change! Thanks to everybody who has made this spot feel like home, I’m sure we’ll be just as cozy over at WordPress which I’m sloooowly learning to use. So if you follow me via RSS, link to me from your blog (you awesome people!) or something fabulously tech-ish like that don’t forget to update your bookmarks and links and doodads and all that stuff.

Check out the new digs here: http://www.thiswastedspace.wordpress.com. I’ll hopefully have it up and ready soon, but between school and my plans to be fabulously wasted for part of this weekend while celebrating my constitutional right to do exactly that. So ’til further notice hang out here, drop by over there, do the hokey pokey and turn yourself around. That’s what it’s all about, y’all.