i hate my job. yes, it's a strong opening to a blog. and i'm terrifically fond of saying 'hate is a wasteful emotion'. but i don't know that there is another appropriate word that conveys my actual feelings. 'strongly dislike' just doesn't sound as good. i work from home. i sit in my home office, in street clothes, without shoes on, and type on a computer all day long. i sell things in a chat environment. i am a salesperson. i am good at it. and i hate it.
it's not the job itself. i love the product, i love interacting with people, and i like most of the people i work with. but, i can't lie - typing nonstop for hours and hours on end everyday pisses me (and my wrists) off. like right now, i'm typing recreationally. i take breaks. like i'm about to stop to get more soda. but when i'm working, i can't stop. i have to chat with up to three people at one time, and i have to answer each of them within like 20 fucking seconds. have you tried keeping up three different conversations at once? literally at the same time? and answering fast, like they were the only people you are talking to?
most of you will say 'no, that's ridiculous'. at least one of you will nod your head knowingly and share in my pain. what makes this more fun *sarcasm* is that i'm batshit crazy. i may have mentioned that before. it makes me all irrational and angry and mad at inanimate objects like my computer. it causes me to yell obscenities at customers who cannot hear me. or throw things. i do prefer throwing things. awesome husband repeatedly tries to get me to keep like stuffed animals in the room to throw when i have the urge.
he just doesn't get that if it doesn't break, it's not helping.
so i try not to throw things. but our cordless phone doesn't work *perfectly*. and there is a funny rattling noise in our remote control. um, and i broke my cell once. but only once.
seriously, i'm quitting my job. in this economy. i'm keeping it as long as i can possibly stand, to make a few extra dollars before i dedicate all my time to making bags and cases and shit (http://rule42custom.com if you're interested in seeing what i'd rather be doing). luckily i have an awesome husband and mom who will be working and making money to replace the money i no longer can make. being batshit crazy and all. i can't even hold a job that's located in my house. seriously.
so. the point is that i can be having the shittiest day. the kind of day that no amount of new found glory, billy joel, less than jake, or bouncing souls can help. the kind of day where you think 'i need a drink after work' but then can't even find the desire/energy/will to leave the house and get a drink. or make dinner. or take a shower. you get the idea: i'm crazy enough that one of those 'bad days' will ruin me for like three days in a row.
but i'm having this shittiest day. and my shift ends at 4pm. now, i don't know how, but samantha seems to have this sixth sense about when my work day is done. she doesn't do this everyday either. she did it today, and i totally needed it. it was just after 4. i had gotten rid of those rotten, non-buying customers with stupid questions and logged out of all that dumb shit i need for work. i closed everything on my screen that was work related and leaned back for a minute. and here comes samantha, jumping up on my desk (using an open filing drawer as a step up) meowing and all purry and she just rams her little kitteh head into mine.
then she proceeds to lay down (covering my schedule for the rest of the week, i might add) and looks at me with cute kitteh eyes, still purring like a tractor, and starts kneading on my desk. (if you're not a cat person, kneading or making muffins is when they flex their little claws into something, alternating from right paw to left and back and forth. and they push their paw into it. they kneaded their mother's belly near the nipples to stimulate milk flow when they were babies, so this is a super happy, comfortable, content, loving thing.) then she mews and jumps onto my chest, curls up under my chin with her front paws and head on my shoulder, and keeps rubbing on my chin and cheek and any part of me she can butt her head into, all the while digging her muffin-making claws into my shoulder.
it *almost* makes the shittiest day better. it certainly helps an awful lot. it's scientifically proven that petting a cat can lower your blood pressure and stress levels. now while samantha cannot negate the kind of stress that batshit crazy causes, she sure does make me feel like the best person in the world, at least for a little while.
Wednesday, June 30, 2010
Tuesday, June 29, 2010
am i offensive or offended?
i just got back from a short week in new york. we stay at my in-law's house, which is kind of weird to me. i mean, i lived there for a short time when i was 17 and had been kicked out of my house. but back then i was a thin, know it all, cocky, insane 17 year old with a new boyfriend and my adult life ahead of me. i was still stealing condoms and having sex in cars. now i'm 30 years old, a thick, insecure, fucking crazy big girl who sort of owns her own home. i have not stolen anything or had sex in a car in a very, very long time. i'm a 'grown up' now. and i find it super strange staying over other people's homes.
not MY family, obvs. i mean, i have no issue staying at my dad's apartment. i'd probably be okay staying with my brother, if i could find room to sleep there. um... actually, i'd probably be uncomfortable staying with any other family members (no offense to family members reading this - i'm crazy.). like, at rev. bobdad's house, i take a shower when i need to take a shower. i make a phone call at my leisure. at my brother's house, if i needed more toilet paper in the bathroom, i'd dig around until i found more.
almost anywhere else, i'm uncomfortable. like, not terribly - i can carry on a conversation, eat food, get my own soda, etc. but i wouldn't take a shower without announcing i'm about to take a shower, just in case anyone else in the house who lives there regularly needs the bathroom. i swear i still get a funny look from my dad-in-law every time i do that. and sometimes i still ask my awesome husband to get me a soda or whatever from the kitchen. i guess old habits die hard - i was a 'guest' in that house for a long time. it's still awesome husband's house to me. i remember watching movies in that basement, or playing magic on the patio. i remember sitting on the porch painting wood boxes (omg, don't ask. it was a phase.). but it was always HIS house - not someplace that i was 100% welcome.
when you read etiquette books and shit, they usually talk about it being the host/ess's job to make you feel welcome and comfortable in their home. it's not their fault - mom- and dad-in-law - that i'm not comfortable. they are super welcoming, and are great hosts (even to the point of handing over the keys to the second car so we don't have to rent while we're visiting). it's just that i'm literally batshit crazy. i sometimes wonder if i offend them by asking if it's okay that i shower now, like if i make them feel like they're *not* good hosts.
now, i can tell you about a group of people i do offend - pretentious fucks in huntington village. while in new york, i went to a hibachi grill called tomo with awesome husband, my brother, and his girlfriend. we got dressed in our nice going-out clothes and did our hair and everything.
now, just for a bit of background: i have pink hair. like, not all pink, but mostly pink. i also have both my nostrils pierced and two piercings in my lip. and 8g ear jewelry. awesome husband has a terrorist-like beard and 1/2" tunnels in his ears. my brother also has holes in his ears, like 00g i think. and his girlfriend has her septum, nostril, and lip pierced. and like 3/4" plugs in her ears. oh, and we're all visibly tattooed. some of us more than others. if you're keeping count, that's 7 facial piercings, multiple large holes in our ears, and at least 17 visible tattoos.
but we looked sharp: all button down plaid shirts for the boys, and us chicks had on our little black dresses with a cardigan. we looked super cute, if i do say so myself. and we had reservations for a hibachi table, which sometimes have a long wait. there were like 10+ people waiting for hibachi tables when we checked in for our reservations. we only had to wait like 6 minutes to get seated - yum! almost dinner time!
so we sit at one end of the table: awesome husband, myself, girlfriend, and my brother. a moment later, they lead a group of 5 to share our hibachi table. they had been waiting for a while to get a hibachi table. they sat down looking happy. picked up their menus, smiled, looked around, smiling, looked at us.
looked at us. looked down at their menus. looked at us. looked at each other. had a hushed conversation. then got up and moved to a non-hibachi table.
i mean, they were WAITING for a hibachi table. why would they just get up and head to a normal table after seeing us and their menus? i mean, the menu at the normal table is the same. so either they changed their mind after seeing the grill (?) or after seeing us.
awesome husband and my brother thought it was funny: they're offensive to people! girlfriend and i were actually *offended*. okay, i get it - there were a lot of piercings and tats across the four of us. but it's not like we're dirty filthy hippies with shit between our toes. it's not like awesome husband had a chicken bone sticking through his terrorist beard. i mean, i was showing a bit more cleavage than i normally do, but i'd think that would attract people, not repel them. (if you think it may be repelling people, please let me know so i stop parading my tits around)
and it's not like we were in some small, conservative town. it was the fucking VILLAGE. it was huntington village, where there are more bars like per person than anywhere else aside from iceland or some shit like that. there were drunk fucks wandering around everywhere, and it looked like there was some shit going down at chesterfield's, since there were suffolk cop cars parked in the middle of the street and people standing at the entrance. i don't even get that many looks at disney. well, from parents at least. kids seem to be entranced by my pink hair. i was at a steakhouse the night before where the least pricey steak is still almost $30 - a fancy place - with my pink hair and metal-y face and didn't get strange looks. i certainly didn't scare anyone away.
so anyway. us gals were offended that some squares thought us offensive. we're probably too sensitive though. i mean, i may have mentioned that i'm batshit crazy - that usually comes with a bit of paranoia at times. so that may have contributed to it.
but the boys laughed, we died a little inside, and they seated a family of three with us (lots of elbow room). i made awesome husband take a photo of us gals, and the nice young man that had sat across the hibachi grill from us offered to take a picture of the four of us. the complete opposite of being offended or scared or disgusted or whatever with us - he was offering to look at us more than he had to by taking a photo. there wasn't any prolonged conversation, but they didn't give us fucked up looks, walk away from the table, or rush away from us. we ordered our food, had the hibachi grill guy make his onion volcano and flip zucchini into our mouths (i did not catch mine), and shoveled our delicious food into our mouths (i was the only one who rocked the chopsticks - i ROCKED THEM I TELL YOU. i actually have my own pair of chopsticks with a fancy case. be jealous.). the other family got up to leave, with a smile and a wave, and we went about our business.
awesome husband made a point to give those square fucks a nasty look as we walked out. i hope they cried about missing out on the hibachi experience over some fucking facial jewelry and body art.
not MY family, obvs. i mean, i have no issue staying at my dad's apartment. i'd probably be okay staying with my brother, if i could find room to sleep there. um... actually, i'd probably be uncomfortable staying with any other family members (no offense to family members reading this - i'm crazy.). like, at rev. bobdad's house, i take a shower when i need to take a shower. i make a phone call at my leisure. at my brother's house, if i needed more toilet paper in the bathroom, i'd dig around until i found more.
almost anywhere else, i'm uncomfortable. like, not terribly - i can carry on a conversation, eat food, get my own soda, etc. but i wouldn't take a shower without announcing i'm about to take a shower, just in case anyone else in the house who lives there regularly needs the bathroom. i swear i still get a funny look from my dad-in-law every time i do that. and sometimes i still ask my awesome husband to get me a soda or whatever from the kitchen. i guess old habits die hard - i was a 'guest' in that house for a long time. it's still awesome husband's house to me. i remember watching movies in that basement, or playing magic on the patio. i remember sitting on the porch painting wood boxes (omg, don't ask. it was a phase.). but it was always HIS house - not someplace that i was 100% welcome.
when you read etiquette books and shit, they usually talk about it being the host/ess's job to make you feel welcome and comfortable in their home. it's not their fault - mom- and dad-in-law - that i'm not comfortable. they are super welcoming, and are great hosts (even to the point of handing over the keys to the second car so we don't have to rent while we're visiting). it's just that i'm literally batshit crazy. i sometimes wonder if i offend them by asking if it's okay that i shower now, like if i make them feel like they're *not* good hosts.
now, i can tell you about a group of people i do offend - pretentious fucks in huntington village. while in new york, i went to a hibachi grill called tomo with awesome husband, my brother, and his girlfriend. we got dressed in our nice going-out clothes and did our hair and everything.
now, just for a bit of background: i have pink hair. like, not all pink, but mostly pink. i also have both my nostrils pierced and two piercings in my lip. and 8g ear jewelry. awesome husband has a terrorist-like beard and 1/2" tunnels in his ears. my brother also has holes in his ears, like 00g i think. and his girlfriend has her septum, nostril, and lip pierced. and like 3/4" plugs in her ears. oh, and we're all visibly tattooed. some of us more than others. if you're keeping count, that's 7 facial piercings, multiple large holes in our ears, and at least 17 visible tattoos.
but we looked sharp: all button down plaid shirts for the boys, and us chicks had on our little black dresses with a cardigan. we looked super cute, if i do say so myself. and we had reservations for a hibachi table, which sometimes have a long wait. there were like 10+ people waiting for hibachi tables when we checked in for our reservations. we only had to wait like 6 minutes to get seated - yum! almost dinner time!
so we sit at one end of the table: awesome husband, myself, girlfriend, and my brother. a moment later, they lead a group of 5 to share our hibachi table. they had been waiting for a while to get a hibachi table. they sat down looking happy. picked up their menus, smiled, looked around, smiling, looked at us.
looked at us. looked down at their menus. looked at us. looked at each other. had a hushed conversation. then got up and moved to a non-hibachi table.
i mean, they were WAITING for a hibachi table. why would they just get up and head to a normal table after seeing us and their menus? i mean, the menu at the normal table is the same. so either they changed their mind after seeing the grill (?) or after seeing us.
awesome husband and my brother thought it was funny: they're offensive to people! girlfriend and i were actually *offended*. okay, i get it - there were a lot of piercings and tats across the four of us. but it's not like we're dirty filthy hippies with shit between our toes. it's not like awesome husband had a chicken bone sticking through his terrorist beard. i mean, i was showing a bit more cleavage than i normally do, but i'd think that would attract people, not repel them. (if you think it may be repelling people, please let me know so i stop parading my tits around)
and it's not like we were in some small, conservative town. it was the fucking VILLAGE. it was huntington village, where there are more bars like per person than anywhere else aside from iceland or some shit like that. there were drunk fucks wandering around everywhere, and it looked like there was some shit going down at chesterfield's, since there were suffolk cop cars parked in the middle of the street and people standing at the entrance. i don't even get that many looks at disney. well, from parents at least. kids seem to be entranced by my pink hair. i was at a steakhouse the night before where the least pricey steak is still almost $30 - a fancy place - with my pink hair and metal-y face and didn't get strange looks. i certainly didn't scare anyone away.
so anyway. us gals were offended that some squares thought us offensive. we're probably too sensitive though. i mean, i may have mentioned that i'm batshit crazy - that usually comes with a bit of paranoia at times. so that may have contributed to it.
but the boys laughed, we died a little inside, and they seated a family of three with us (lots of elbow room). i made awesome husband take a photo of us gals, and the nice young man that had sat across the hibachi grill from us offered to take a picture of the four of us. the complete opposite of being offended or scared or disgusted or whatever with us - he was offering to look at us more than he had to by taking a photo. there wasn't any prolonged conversation, but they didn't give us fucked up looks, walk away from the table, or rush away from us. we ordered our food, had the hibachi grill guy make his onion volcano and flip zucchini into our mouths (i did not catch mine), and shoveled our delicious food into our mouths (i was the only one who rocked the chopsticks - i ROCKED THEM I TELL YOU. i actually have my own pair of chopsticks with a fancy case. be jealous.). the other family got up to leave, with a smile and a wave, and we went about our business.
awesome husband made a point to give those square fucks a nasty look as we walked out. i hope they cried about missing out on the hibachi experience over some fucking facial jewelry and body art.
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