Monday, August 30, 2004

Gone With the Wind

Another weekend bites the dust. It was halfway fun, Friday night we had some friends over (Greg, I know you’re reading this, so just comment, dammit Janet.) We drank beer and watched Bill Maher and stayed up and watched Rocky Horror. I forgot how much I loved that movie. In fact, I forgot I had it on DVD until I heard the Time Warp on the radio in a commerical for an 80’s Time Warp weekend. I had to work Saturday night, so I did that, and came home and drank the remainder of my wine slushies by my lonesome, which did give me a little tiny buzz, but I woke up Sunday with a splitting headache that lasted for 2 hours. Then I drove around with my camera. Nothing was particularly eye catching though. I took this one on my way home up Main Street through town.

I watched half of the VMA’s, which was a horrible waste of time. I was confused by the strange array of presenters and performers. It was like they had a tough time booking celebrities, so they were like, "Hey, let’s call Gwenyth Paltrow, she’s not doing anything, she just had a baby!" I don’t know why I even sat through it. I’m too old.

I just have to make it through this week, and then I have yet another long weekend. I’m looking forward to a weekend of forest filled activities, like hiking and playing in the river and things like that. I really am a tree hugger. Just without the smell.

Thursday, August 26, 2004

Memories Lost and Found

Have you ever written something and it gives you a mental illustration of the memory that goes with it? This is happening to me today. I was thinking of a poem that I wrote 5 years ago. I don’t know why it popped into my head. It was from when my buddy and I started dating. I just got out of a terrible relationship with a guy that controlled everything about my life. Who I saw, where I went, what I wore. I was really not me at that point in my life. I was somebody else. I don’t really know who I was. The times that I came back to myself in that relationship I was scolded by him. He really didn’t like me. I didn’t like him much either. For some reason, I guess because of my low self esteem, I hung around him for almost 2 years. When I finally got rid of him, it took me a long time to scrape up any self respect I had. This made the beginning of my relationship with my future husband a bit rocky. I was clingy and needed reassured all the time. I’m sure that was annoying for him, but he stuck it out and helped me through it. But I wrote this poem about one November night that he and I were walking home from the bar. Every time I read it, I remember the walk home that night, our exact route, what we talked about, and the fact that it was freakin’ cold.
This is it (don’t laugh):

The bitter cold sweeps across my cheeks,
Goes right through me, and I see myself breathe.
But you make me laugh, suddenly I’m warm.
Happiness ignores the cold.
Dead leaves dance around our feet as the chill surrounds us.
I see your face and it reminds me, I’m no longer alone.
Finally I remember exactly who I am,
And realize what I want to be… who I was.
Feelings I haven’t felt in so long,
No guilt. No misery.
Only happiness, and I’m exactly where I want to be.
As winter abounds you’ll keep me warm.
Maybe I’ve never felt this way.

I don’t know what brought that into my brain today. I’m discovering that in my old age, bits and pieces of information from the past float in and out of my head from time to time. Probably the result of too much weed in my younger days.

Ah, the good old days, when love was fresh and sweet. My husband just yelled from the living room, "Buddy, where’s the toenail clippers?" Oh, how I love that man of mine.

Wednesday, August 25, 2004

Sleepy E-Lo

This seems like a good lesson for the day. Any questions?

I just saw a hitchhiker today on my way home from work. It was such a strange thing to see. I was at a busy intersection, and there stood this old man, thumb out on the side of the road. I thought hitchhikers were extinct. Apparently, they are just a dying breed. This guy kind of looked like a drunk. Of course everybody was passing him up. Who the hell actually picks up hitchhikers these days? Other weirdos, I guess.

Wednesday is my tired day at work. I always wake up late, and today was no exception. Today I had to actually forego the shower, wash my face, throw on my make up and clothes, and pull my hair back (which is a normal thing for me, anyway). When I got to work I was just so lazy. My feet hurt all day. You’d think the fact that I’m on my feet for at least 40 hours a week would make me used to it by now. But no. I am losing all motivation in my vocation. Mostly because I hate it, and I hate being stuck where I’ve been stuck for the past year. I never thought my retail career would last this long.
Suck it up, E-Lo ( I tell myself this all the time).

But tomorrow is Thursday, my weekly day off. Which means I’ll be here all day. Sitting. Blogging. Looking for jobs. I’ve actually wanted to do a drive around photo shoot for the past week, so I might do that. I really want to take pictures of old farms. Fields with hay bales and barns with old Mail Pouch advertisements on them. I don’t know why I think that’s neat. Just something I want to do. I think it’s supposed to rain though, which might put a damper (emphasis on the damp) on that goal.

Yawn. Do I sound tired? I feel like I do.

Tuesday, August 24, 2004

Drinking, Debating, and Nutshells

Goodness me, I’ve been a busy girl the last two days.

My weekend was pretty low-key. As most of you know I went to camp. Now I’ll paint you a little mental picture: When I say camp, I imagine that most people think of a tent in the woods somewhere. I know the people at work do, because they kept asking me if I got wet this weekend. Not in a pervy way, but because it rained. But this is the case. My parents own a little trailer right outside of Cook Forest. We got it when I was 12, so it’s been around for 15 years or so. It was a piece of crap then. Now that my parents are retired, they are constantly remodeling it. It’s a teeny tiny trailer, but it’s probably one of the nicest camps I’ve ever been in. We have a big yard with a lot of trees, a big front deck, and 4 neighbors. We recently got a phone line installed. Since my parents are there all the time, I expect satellite TV next. My dad freaks out if he can’t watch the news 24 hours a day (on FOX! And he’s not even Republican. I don’t understand it. Anyway…). But that’s my camp.

Friday night it was pouring. My husband and I sat at the kitchen table with my parents and drank. My dad makes homemade amaretto, so he and my husband were drinking that, and I polished off a bottle of wine. My mom had her customary Coors Light (usually my drink of choice as well, if wine is unavailable). We had strange discussions about politics, gay marriage, and abortion. Not things I usually discuss in the presence of my parents, especially my dad, who is about as old fashioned as it gets. It makes me wonder how I, the fruit of his loins, became such an open minded individual. We disagree on everything. Sometimes he argues for the sake of arguing. At one point in the conversation, as I was telling him my opinion on one of my liberal viewpoints, he said, "Did they teach you this in all your years of school?" And I said, "No, I form my own opinions." "I’m disappointed." He infuriates me. But it’s so much fun to debate with him. It used to be that I’d never win. Now he just lets me talk and agrees to disagree. He is the epitome of an old dog. No new tricks for him. But I love my dad. He might be narrow minded and watch the evil news, but he’s my dad.

Needless to say we were all pretty well shitfaced by the time my brother and his girlfriend got there. And Saturday not much drinking was done.

So that was my weekend, in a nutshell (help, I’m in a nutshell!)

Sunday, August 22, 2004

Some fun stuff...

I'm a Philosopher/Scientist!


Which Enemy of the Christian Church Are You?

Take More of Robert & Tim's Quizzes
Watch Robert & Tim's Cartoons

I found this handy dandy little quiz over at No Milk's place. I had to share. I love funny little quizzes like this.

Yep, I'm back from my weekend of quiet woodland solitude. It was cold and wet. More on that later.
Tell me which enemy of the church you are!

Friday, August 20, 2004

Mother Hen

This is a picture I took last night of my little brother playing guitar and singing at an open mic night. I think I meant for it to look this way. Maybe it was a happy accident, but it's my favorite of all the pictures I took, even though you can't really see his face. I think you get more of the emotion behind the music. Or maybe I'm just trying to justify crappy picture taking skills.

At any rate, as my brother was playing, my grin got wider and wider. I felt like a proud mom watching her kid score a goal. It was the first time my brother ever played in front of a crowd, and he did well. I was trying to send him vibes of confidence, because I knew he was a little nervous. But he had fun performing, and I think everybody felt that.

I've seen my husband play lots of times, and I'm always proud and happy when he plays. This was a different kind of proud and happy. It was a mother hen kind of feeling. My face hurt from the huge smile I had the whole time. I was so excited to see him overcome his nervousness and get up there. Once he did, I think he felt like he could have played all night. He probably would have if they would have let him. Afterward he asked me, "how did I do? Did this one sound alright? What about this one? I'm going to play again next Thursday." Yep. Being the karaoke queen I am, I know the feeling.

It was great. I love bragging about my family. It's a trait I inherited from my proud rooster of a father.

I'm off to camp! Everyone have a good weekend.

Thursday, August 19, 2004

Rainy Day Post

Here are some random thoughts and facts about me:

My mini vacation kicked off last night with beers and watching the Olympics.
Bluebirds are eating my squirrel food today. That pisses me off.
I need to clean today. I’m having a tough time getting motivated.
I’m also going to re-pot my plants. Again with the motivation.
I’m singing Cruisin, the duet from that movie (what the hell is the name of that movie? Duets! I think that’s it) by Huey Lewis and Gwenyth Paltrow at the moment.
In the mornings that I don’t work I sit and drink coffee and smoke cigarettes in front of my computer.
I used to think babies came out of bellybuttons. That was last week.
I had home-made Spanish rice for dinner last night and now I’m paying for it.
I can’t stop spending money I do not have. Yesterday I went nuts on clearance items at work. Stuff to re-pot my plants and soap. Like I need more soap.
I love it when I make people laugh. It’s an addiction. Sometimes I try too hard. But I’m terrible at telling jokes.
I’m also an attention whore. Part of my duality as a Gemini, I guess. I’m shy, but I love attention. WTF.
My guidance counselor in high school told my mother that I wasn’t college material, and that I would do well in cosmetology or secretarial work. Little did she know, although I can do hair and make-up, I can’t type for shit. My Master’s degree didn’t teach me how to do that.
Sometimes I like to put my foot in my mouth. Not literally.
The Clash is my favorite band of all time.
Every night I have to wake my husband up and tell him to go to bed. He falls asleep on the recliner or couch every single night. Without fail. And snores loudly.
I sing really loud in my car and pretend I’m having a concert.
I can’t do math. I just can’t do it. I try, but I get confused. Sometimes I see number backwards. It’s a weird kind of dyslexia. I also have a hard time talking about numbers, and saying big numbers, like forty five thousand. Don’t even add any digits after that, cause I’ll go haywire trying to figure it out.
I like to do Mad Libs and use dirty phrases. I love toilet humor.
Trivial Pursuit is my favorite game.
I want to go to a psychic. Or get my tarot cards read. I have tarot cards, but I’m not very good at reading them. Once I got my palm read and I knew the lady that did it was full of shit, because I know more about palm reading than the average Joe. She told me I had a long life-line so I’d live to be about 90. Bullshit. That’s not what that means.
I’m into reading children’s books right now. I just bought one from Amazon called Up From Jericho Tel. I read it when I was 9 and I loved it.

That’s all for now. I’m going to go try to do something constructive.

Tuesday, August 17, 2004

Summer's Almost Over? Yipes!

I was just talking with some of my friends on my other blog about how all we hear about lately is how summer is almost over. "It’s August 17th already? Where did summer go? School is starting in two weeks, can you believe it?"

Well, yes, I can believe it. It’s a little thing called time, and it happens every day. Don’t make me get technical on your sorry ass and make me explain the way the earth revolves around the sun. Amazing little device time is. I’m actually looking forward to the decline of summer into the yummy crisp days of autumn. There’s nothing quite as lovely as trampling through dead leaves and carving pumpkins.

Every year I go to a festival in Clarion (otherwise known as the autumn leaf capital of the world) called the Autumn Leaf Festival. Yes, it is abbreviated as ALF. Like the furry alien guy. ALF is a time of drinking and reveling in the beauty of nature. More about drinking really. Since I went to school there, it’s a special kind of time, filled with many, many memories and events. My favorite part of ALF, other than getting shitty drunk, is the Friday of Farmer and Crafter day. I get to spend the day perusing Main Street. They close down the entire street and fill it with vendors. Not to mention the carnies that are already set up there. It’s always a day that I spend with my mother and various other females that my mom and I are friends with. My husband and dad spend the day bar hopping, and I spend money on fun little crafty knick-knacks that I really don’t need. It’s a day of female bonding. But there’s always that certain feeling in the air. The one that only comes with the advent of fall. It’s almost indescribable, but it is a feeling that fills my soul with a kind of happiness. The clean, cool air, the warm sun, the smell of decaying leaves. So being that I’ve had a rather depressing summer, I’m looking forward to that fall feeling. It’s a happy one. Plus I get to buy shit. Bonus.

Monday, August 16, 2004

Monday Tomatoes

It's another closing Monday night, send me good energies to make it through!!! Mondays are the absolute worst for me. But I have a mini-vacation at the end of the week… Thursday through Sunday. Camp time.

I don't have much else to say today, so I'll just leave you with a picture of my mom's garden tomatoes.

Sunday, August 15, 2004

Squirrelly Politics

I just participated in my first political phone poll. My friend got one of those calls the other night, and I was a little jealous. But now I can brag that I said my piece. I almost hung up, figuring the guy was a telemarketer, but something in my head told me to wait it out. Lucky for me, I listened to the voice in my head. He asked me about a hundred questions. It was fun.

I’ve spent the last 2 hours on my new banner. See it? Up at the top? Yep, that’s it. It took me an hour just to figure out exactly how to get it there. Those are the squirrels that live in my yard. Eating as usual. Fatty squirrels. I shouldn’t talk.
Well, it’s bedtime. I have to be at work at 5 am tomorrow. Yes, 5 in the morning. It’s a wonderful time to be at work, let me tell ya.

Friday, August 13, 2004

Imaginary Friends

This was me at the beginning of my madness.

Being the only child for the first four years of my life was interesting. I had (and still do) a very overactive imagination. Of course, I’m the second youngest of 5 kids, my dad has two daughters and a son from a previous marriage. They are all much older than me. I’m closest with my oldest sister, who is 48. My youngest sister is 39. So at least a 12 year difference. They all lived with their mom, and I was alone until my younger brother was born when I was 4 and a half.

I had a group of imaginary friends. I remember them so vividly it’s like they were almost real. I remember playing with them on my swing set and talking to them, pushing them on the swings, taking turns on the sliding board. They were a motorcycle gang. Of dogs. I’m not kidding. They were dogs wearing motorcycle leather, but they walked around on their hind legs. I don’t recall any of them having names except for the leader of the gang, my personal favorite, Bernice. Bernice lived under my bed, and sometimes hid in the kitchen cupboards. My mom would laugh at me when she was (pregant and in the kitchen) cooking and I would poke my little head under under the counter and call out, "Bernice! It's time to play!"

Another experience I remember from when I was little was hearing someone say my name when I was alone playing. I can remember sitting on the basement floor and hearing my name being called. It was a male voice that reminded me of my Uncle Steve. It was a voice that I recognized. Even though I knew it was just me and my mom in the house, it wasn’t scary, it was familiar. Being a fan of the supernatural, I have come to believe it was my uncle Larry, who died when I was an infant. Uncle Larry and his wife lived, literally, in my backyard in a trailer. The trailer caught on fire one night and burned. Thankfully, my aunt and uncle were not home. But shortly after, he had a massive heart attack and died. He was 40, I was one. Have you ever had those feelings of someone being around that you can’t see, but instead of feeling creeped out you feel comforted? It’s happened to me on more than one occasion.

On a side note, I also used to think that babies came out of your bellybutton, and that there was really a man in the moon (that scared the crap out of me). I also used to ask my mom the definition of the word "virgin" and I was never quite satisfied with her answer. Pure? C’mon, mom, I know it has something to do with sex.

Last night I had a dream that someone left nasty comments on here. It hurt my feelings and I cried. I’ve been blogging waaaaay too much.

Thursday, August 12, 2004

Gemini Designs

This is the logo I designed for the business I want to start. Whatcha think?
Every once in a while I get on a "I've gotta start my own business" kick. So far, I haven't really made any moves to do so. My business would be hand-crafted jewelry and graphic design. A strange combo.
I really want to do this. I just have no idea how to get started without putting myself in even more debt. Any ideas?

My Buddy and Me

This is a picture I took of fireworks from the 4th of July. Somebody had a pair of those trippy rainbow glasses, so I put them over the lens of my camera to get the colorful effect you see here.

I met my husband (who I call Buddy… funny thing is, he calls me Buddy too. It’s weird, I know) in high school. We met at the lunch table. I was in 9th grade and he was in 10th. He asked a friend of his to introduce me to him. I gave him my number and he called me for about a week, but never asked me out or anything. We sort of lost touch. He tells me to this day that I was snobby, but I remain steadfast that I was just shy. Because it’s the truth.

Fast forward 5 years later.

Buddy decided to come to school where I was going. A lot of my friends (who, incidentally, are all guys) had been friends with him for years. Although my friends at school were from my hometown, I didn’t really hang out with them until college. But we bonded rather quickly. I knew Buddy, but really didn’t talk to him much since our high school phone conversations (which consisted of me bitching about my little brother and him playing his guitar). But our little group formed, and we were all together, doing the silly immature things that we used to do.

The first time we actually ever hung out, he took my roommate and I to a Misfits show. He was a big fan, as was I, but I had never seen them. Of course I fell in love and thought they were awesome. My boyfriend at the time, who was a jealous, possessive, emotionally abusive asshole, was none too thrilled. But Buddy and I were just hanging out as friends, just as we had always done.

A year later my dickhead boyfriend moved to Florida the summer before my senior year. I was so happy to be rid of him. I was finally free to be myself, something I had lost for a long time. I spent the summer with my friends (who I was never allowed to see while dickhead was around), having a blast and remembering the little punk rock girl that I once was.

When school started back up, Buddy confessed that he was "attracted" to me. It was all very weird and confusing. I felt the same way. We "hooked up" (gotta love those college terms) after a night of drinking, and our friends were NOT happy. They didn’t want us to fuck up our group by getting involved in a relationship that might not work out. We didn’t care. We exiled ourselves for a while, went to the bars together, and got drunk a lot. It’s really funny that the beginning of our relationship involved a lot of alcohol.
At any rate, Buddy was getting out of a crappy relationship as well, so things were rocky at first. Having just found my freedom coming out of the crap that I did, I was kind of needy and had very little self-esteem. My goal had been to go back to school and party my ass off, something that I wasn’t allowed to do for two years. I didn’t plan on meeting my future husband. I wanted to be independent and free. That lasted about a month.
It took us a while to smooth things over and get our friends to accept us as a couple. There were only a select few of them who were very supportive of our relationship from the start. They thought we were perfect together. And we were. We still are.
We moved in together after I graduated, and things were great. Almost a year after this whole crazy thing started, we got engaged.

I decided to go back to school and of course, he supported it. He even moved back in with his parents for a year. Now that’s love. He moved out of his parent’s house when he was 18 and never considered going back. But he did for me.

We got married October 26 of 2002, so we are coming up on 2 years. I can’t say that marriage has been easy, but it’s just the regular life stuff that puts stress on our relationship. Number one being that I can’t find a job. But we don’t fight a lot, and when we do, it blows over quickly.

I can honestly say that Buddy is my best friend. I know it’s cheesy, but I don’t think anybody else would be able to put up with me. He challenges me. He makes me a stronger person. I wouldn’t want to be without him. I know that whole soul mate thing is cliché these days, but that’s what we are. The best part is, we have all the same friends, so there’s never any of that stupid jealous shit involved.

And that’s the story of my Buddy and me.

Wednesday, August 11, 2004

The Twins

This is one of my dad's old work boots. My mother, creative genius that she is, took them and planted flowers in them. Luckily my dad is retired. Talk about having something in your shoe.

At work we have two little old ladies that we’ve dubbed "The Twins." Mainly because they are twins. And a bit terrifying. They are regular customers in our store. They are both tiny and stooped, with straight, short white hair. They always wear the same blue polyester matching skirts and black coats, even on 90 degree days. One is always hugging a brown paper bag to her chest, cradling it like a baby. Instead of standing in line at the front of the store, they always come to my department to be checked out. I’d never be able to tell them apart if it weren’t for their demeanor. And the brown paper bag, which I’m sure is a permanent fixture on the one sister. The one that is in charge makes the purchases. They always buy things like paper cups, and ask me for a small bag. One time I made the mistake of giving her a regular sized bag and she looked at me like I was insane. I’m always very friendly with them, and the one that talks always says ‘thank you’ and ‘have a nice day’.

Now, I could tell they were a little strange and even a little scary. They recently got kicked off the bus for fighting with passengers. See, on top of the fact that they are eccentric, the twins have a bit of obsessive compulsive disorder. They have a certain seat on the bus and they won’t sit anywhere else. The last straw for the bus driver was when they stood and stared at a little girl who was in their seat until she cried and got up to sit with her grandmother. I’d cry too. They’d scare the bejezus out of me if they stood and stared at me. It’s not only the bus, though. They have a seat at an Arby’s too. One day a young couple with small children made the grave mistake of sitting in their seat, so the twins went and asked the cashier to tell them to move. The cashier complied, but the couple, being of sound mind, wouldn’t budge. Their rationale was that they were there first. Makes sense to me. Not to the twins. So they went outside and stood at the window and stared in at them until they left.

Maybe they know they are scary and use it to their advantage. The secretary at work told me occasionally she hears them fighting outside while they are waiting for the bus. Once she looked out the window and as the dominant one was yelling, the paper bag lady started to bite herself in protest. I was outside on my break yesterday and witnessed their bickering firsthand. It was quite a little scene.

I see them almost everyday and now I wonder, without the bus, how they are getting around. I have an image in my mind of that new Tom Cruise movie, Collateral. Maybe they stare menacingly at cab drivers to get them to drive them around.
It makes me wonder about the human mind. In their case, their eccentricities are obviously genetic. And it’s funny that they are twins, because that’s my astrological sign. Maybe that’s why I feel sympathetic. If I were to suddenly morph into two halves of myself I’d probably act the same way.

But probably not.

Tuesday, August 10, 2004

The Future's So Bright

Today has been a weird and confusing day. It's one of those days in which I contemplate my future and ask myself just where the hell I am headed. Probably because I had a job interview, and I can't help but feel negative about it. I've had exactly 3 real job interviews in the past year (funny, since I've sent out over 100 resumes, I'm sure) and obviously nothing has panned out since I'm still the queen of retail. So although I try to be positive, I can't help but feel that my many qualifications for work and yet lack of real experience is exactly what is prohibiting my getting a real job. Here I thought that a Master's was going to make me more marketable. But it seems to scare people. What am I supposed to say about it? "Yes, I'm more qualified than you, my prospective boss, but I'm really not that smart." Yeah, that would be a real zinger.

I'm still looking forward to easier days ahead. Ones where I'm not deciding which bills really need paid this month or if I can get away with buying new shoes, or even groceries for that matter. I'm just hoping it's sooner than later.

Speaking of "The Future's so Bright" (what is it with me and the 80's?) did anyone know that Timbuck 3 wrote that song about a wacko nuclear science student who will probably end up nuking the world with his amazing brain? It was supposed to be a warning about messing with nuclear weapons, but nobody got the message.

Sunday, August 08, 2004


As I mentioned, the show went great. I talked before about how it was a benefit show for a friend of ours who passed away, who was a vital part of the little music scene here. He died of a heart condition in April, leaving a wife and 2 kids. He was only 30. So the show raised over a grand and was donated to his family to help them out.

This is my husband again. He plays bass. This was their first show, and hopefully more will follow soon. They did a great job. They played some originals and a few U2 covers.

This was another band that played. Kind of a hardcore band. They were really hard to photograph without a flash because they were constantly moving, but they were good in a screamy kind of way.

My husband also sings in a Misfits cover band that they call the Shitfits.

This little headbanging metal dude was in the first band that played and he yelled at my friend and I later on in the evening. So in true E-Lo fashion, when somebody pisses me off, I dedicate a post to them.

I was of course playing camera girl, video taping and taking pictures. We were standing by my video camera and dancing around, being silly, and my friend sat her drink down on an amp. Now, mind you, this amp was sitting basically right in front of the stage. There were people dancing, smoking, and drinking all around it. The rest of everyone's equipment was safely tucked behind the stage. All of a sudden, this little long haired guy walks up, right in front of my 500 dollar digital video camera, looks at my friend and I and says "Uh, excuse me, but NO." He picks up her drink like it has a disease and puts it on a table. Then he says, "this costs more than your lives" or something to that extent. Then he walks away, leaving us staring at each other. My friend broke the silence by saying, "He just tainted my drink. Now I have to go buy a new one."

Seriously. Beatdown to that guy for being irresponsible with his "expensive" equipment. Put it away or at least move it so that it's not in the middle of a crowd of people if you don't want someone's drink on it. For the rest of the night I had to keep telling people to move their drinks off of it or a little metal kid was going to come kick their ass. And I was drunk so I said it loud and obnoxiously and stared at him every time. Sometimes when I drink I just want to fight with guys I don't know. Of course most of the time they've done something to piss me off.

But at any rate I had a fun weekend. My friends came and stayed at my house and we had lots of bad food and alcohol. My body is just starting to feel normal again. Oh, wait, I spoke too soon. There goes my stomach.


Yes, ladies, this is my husband. Mohawk and all.
What a fun weekend, even though now I'm holding my throbbing head and clutching my stomach. Ow, oh.
The show was great, they raised a little over 1000 bucks, which is pretty damn good for my little town.
My buddy's (that's what I call my husband, keep that in mind for future reference) band rocked my ass. They were so good. They played a cover of Pride from U2 that made the hair stand up on my arms. Good stuff.

Friday, August 06, 2004

Too Much Coffee

Me! Look, it's me!
Who's that, you say?
I'm being silly. It's the aftereffects of rebellion. And caffeine.
I simply cannot help myself. I'm so happy to be not at work. La la la.

Happy Friday

It's so cold this morning! It feels like fall, which explains my picture. I love fall. Today's weather like a tease for the months ahead, just with less pretty colors.

Yep, today I’m a bad little E-Lo. I called off work for the first time since I started my illustrious career in the retail electronics industry. It feels good. I’m a rebel. Bad me. So now I’m on a little mini-vacation.

The weirdest thing about this blogging thing (and something I keep hearing from just about everyone in this little blogging community) is how absolutely addictive it is. I’ve been trying to figure out exactly why. It’s so easy to engross yourself in other peoples’ lives and read their stories and look at their pictures and say, "hmmmph. I can relate to that." Even if it’s something you’ve never experienced, like having a child, or working at a strip club, or sitting in a cubicle…whatever. I guess it’s just the humanity that surrounds it. And the fact that there are truly intelligent people out there with interesting ideas. An air of mystery engulfs the whole thing, because you sort of feel like you know these people, but you really don’t. My life in comparison is probably less interesting than most, but I try to get something from the experience and write about it.

When I was younger I kept a journal. I still have every single journal I wrote in. I kept one up until I got married. I still don’t know why I quit writing in one. My entries got farther and farther apart, so I just sort of gave it up. Plus I wrote only when I was having problems or feeling sorry for myself, so it was depressing to go back and read them. So I guess I started this little thing as a way to chronicle the different aspects of my life. Plus I can add pictures. Me likey pictures. Mmm hmm.

Tonight is my husband’s show. I’m excited to see him play. I’ve known him since I was 14, (we even sort of dated then, isn’t that funny?) and he’s always been a musician. I spent a great deal of my youth going to shows that his various band played in. This band is a new project for him, and so far I’ve heard it’s really good. I haven’t seen them in full force yet. But I hope a lot of people come and that they raise a lot of money, because it’s for a good cause. Plus the prospect of all of my friends coming from far away and all getting together is going to be fun. Pictures of tonight’s event will follow.

Wednesday, August 04, 2004

Frankie Says Relax

Yee-haw! No more work! At least until Friday, unless I decide to call off, which I'm seriously contemplating. I've worked six straight days. When I say work, I mean the most laborious labor. Toiling. Putting up with people's shit (see yesterday's post on that subject). One day I took a pedometer to work and I clocked 9 miles in my seven and a half hours. I'm so exhausted.

Time for some much needed R&R. And house cleaning for the weekend. Right now it's hard to rip myself away from either my couch or my computer. Both are like cozy little sanctuaries away from the rigors of retail. I'm going to hibernate tomorrow. Watch some E True Hollywood stories and scrub my bathrooms. I guess I can't escape working in some way or another.

Tuesday, August 03, 2004

Behold, The Wrath of E-Lo

Yay! I have my first official beatdown for my blog! It’s amazing that it’s the first, as I deal with the public and it’s a guarantee that at least one person pisses me off daily. Here goes:

Do not call me at work and ask me to be your personal shopper. That’s why man created a little thing called transportation. Today, this guy calls me in the toy department (which is not my department, but as no one else was able to get the call, I had to cover) and I immediately recognized his weasly little voice. He is a collector – a species so undesired in my store that they are avoided like the black death. They are pathetic little people with one track minds. Collectors are the lowest form of life in retail, they have no lives, other than collecting. For instance, every morning, at 7:55 (we open at 8) there is a group of at least 3 men who wait eagerly for our doors to open so they can run back to toys to see what new Hot Wheels cars came in that day. GROWN men. They obviously don’t work. How can Hot Wheels consume you? They’ll be worth, what, 2 bucks in 10 years? Get a life.

So this guy on the phone starts asking me about these new football figures we just got in, McFarlanes NFL Sportspicks. He called yesterday, from what he tells me. Once again, get in your car and drive, mister.

Here’s the gist of the conversation:
Evil Collector: Do you have Torry Holt?
Me: Let me check…(I put the phone down and run to the next aisle to look)… Yes.
Evil Collector: Do you have Steve McNair?
Me: (repeating the cycle with a sigh)…yes.
Evil Collector: How about….(at this point I’m getting very irritated. I don’t mind helping people out, but seriously, don’t ask me about every single item in the store, especially when it comes to football toys.
This went on for a few more minutes. Finally:
Evil Collector: What color jersey is Torry Holt wearing?
I wanted to say: Are you fucking serious? How much of a jerkoff can you possibly be that you are concerned with what color outfits football dolls are wearing?
He continued with asking what color outfits each and every doll we had in stock was wearing. I was fuming. Like I had time for this.
Then he asked for something else completely, and the price. He then had me put THAT item on hold, after all I went through with the little football dolls.
I asked the service desk to let me know when the guy came in to pick up his item, figuring he’s probably go back to toys to make sure I wasn’t lying to him. What’dya know, an hour later they called to let me know he was on his way back to the toy department.
I spotted him right away in the aisle. He was an older man, maybe 50-ish, wearing sweatpants and a greasy t-shirt with a flannel, the universal uniform of the collector. He had a pinched squinty expression on his round little face as he pondered which football player to buy. I followed him around and wished him extraordinary beatdowns. Seriously. Get a job.
Now that I’m not at work or pissed off anymore, I feel bad for this little man. I’m sure he gets some gratification in collecting these things. It’s just kind of sad and pathetic. It’s fine to have a hobby, but like I said, my job is to help people out in the store, not shop for them over the phone. He wasted a good 10 minutes of my time. Some people have inconceivable nerve.
Sorry about my bitterness. But can you relate?

Monday, August 02, 2004

Growing and growing... tired

I woke up this morning and found this big pink beast in my planter of wildflowers. It seemingly appeared there overnight. Neat how that happens.
Wow, what a weekend. My feet are killing me. I've closed my store for the past 3 nights. I still have 2 more mornings to open until I have a day off. So my life has been rather uneventful for the past few days.
I'm looking forward to the weekend. I have lots of company coming, which will mean that I actually have to clean my house. My husband and his band are playing in a benefit show on Friday for a friend of theirs who passed away in April. He was a big part of the music scene here in my little town, and when he died he left a wife and two sons, one of which is an infant. We figured the best thing to do is play a show in his honor and give the proceeds to his kids. So it should be fun, and I'm sure a little sad, but we have lots of friends coming from out of town, which is the best kind of respect they can give. Most of them didn't even know this guy, and yet they are willing to give money to his family. I love my friends.
I'm anticipating a weekend full of fun, alcohol, and games.
Now I'm going to go crack the Ben and Jerry's I bought myself as an after work treat. Goodbye diet.