new job = high school

cafeteria
busy work*
bitches
teachers (managers)
students (employees)
starts at 8
class lets out at 5
social heirarchy


Where do I fit in? I'm the weird one who brings a lunch and sits alone in the corner reading books.

Between lunch breaks, all the downtime, and the frequent girly chatty sessions, I've read two books since starting last Monday. The Secret Life of Bees and The Perks of Being a Wallflower (I wish I'd had The Perks of Being a Wallflower when I was a kid). Easy reading, nothing scholarly, new or groundbreaking. Basically stuff that's been sitting around for ages. I have so many books lying around that I've never gotten to and had to start somewhere. Today I started on The Jungle, which I bought in high school after we discussed it in history class.

It's very embarassing, but for the last few years I haven't read much. So now I want to use all of these open work hours to get some done.


*cute story:

One day last week, in our training class, the teacher asked if we liked crossword puzzles. I shyly raised my hand.

Everyone else looked at each other uneasily.

She then left to retrieve our puzzles from a printer in another room. My classmates talked about their dislike for crosswords. They're HARD.

The teacher lady came back and a classmate said she didn't like crosswords. She asked, couldn't we do one of those where you find and circle the words? Teacher lady said, that's what this is. My classmates smiled and were relieved. She then handed out the puzzles she'd printed off.

I looked down and found a word search on my desk. You know, one of those where you find and circle the words?

The next day we did another word search and teacher lady continued to insist on calling them "crossword puzzles."

Feeling insulted for the second day in a row is something I couldn't be quiet about. I wouldn't say it in so many words, but I said that I didn't really like these, and they weren't exactly learning tools, more like busy work. The teacher said, oh, yeah, well that's what it is (busy work).

You want to know the words we searched this time? Just a sampling:
amazing
awardwinning
prizewinning
winner
conqueror

We had just completed a section of training on sales technique in which confidence was stressed.

addendum

Don't you just love Sir Elton's "Circle of Life"

My fave song EVAH!

I am a live-and-let-live person. Except when I'm an eat-or-be-eaten person. You know, it's a tough world out there. You gotta be prepared to cut a bitch, as much as I love peace and hugs and pot and all. Life can't always be sunshine and ponies and manatees.

I guess I go back and forth. When people are nice to me, I'm totally live-and-let-live. When I feel that my life, my belongings, my beliefs, or my hair are threatened, I'm eat-or-be-eaten, and will not hesitate to preemptively attack.

I also have multiple personalities. And one of my personalities is bipolar.

a circuitous posting

Scientology Orientation videos part 2-10. Who knows what happened in pt. 1? Did Ron himself adress the orientees? (Is orientees a word?) Was it a video of the birth of Scientology's christ child? I'm guessing it was the latter. OR was it was a video showing Tom offering up to the Hubbard-god as a sacrifice, the Suri-christ?

That's gotta be it. It would explain why we haven't seen the baby yet.

I'm so good at this.

I'm a regular Sherlock Holmes.

Holmes! Katie Holmes! Everything is connected.

Coming full circle.

The circle of life.

As it were.

From the day we arrive on the planet
And blinking, step into the sun
There's more to be seen than can ever be seen
More to do than can ever be done

Some say eat or be eaten
Some say live and let live
But all are agreed as they join the stampede
You should never take more than you give

In the circle of life
It's the wheel of fortune
It's the leap of faith
It's the band of hope
Till we find our place
On the path unwinding
In the circle, the circle of life

Some of us fall by the wayside
And some of us soar to the stars
And some of us sail through our troubles
And some have to live with the scars

There's far too much to take in here
More to find than can ever be found
But the sun rolling high through the sapphire sky
Keeps great and small on the endless round



Sweet Baby Suri Holmes-Cruise, my point proven. The next place I was going with this was going to be a picture of the digestive system. (Somewhat a cycle. I eat my crap. Don't you? Stop questioning how my mind works.) The seventh result for "digestive system" that Google image search brought up:



I'll take that as a sign from L. Ron himself that I should stop here. Because I was going next to a kind of gross place. You don't want to know how I arrived at the digestive system thing. Let's just say I made chocolate chip cookies today, and I ate several.

I mean, who can resist the sticky goodness of classic Toll House recipe cookies? I know I can't and good thing, too, cause I needed that dump.

(youtubage from AST-er rezpeni. more Scientology video links in the thread)

right click -> set as desktop background

Daisy!

to mr. ice cream truck man:

Kindly shut the fuck up or move the damn truck, as you are currently parked directly in front of my residence, and have been for going on five minutes now. I know the kids around here are retarded and, yes, very slow, but put them on a time limit. They're wasting your time when you could be moving on to the next neighborhood and making sales! This is no way to run a business. Also, you should probably think about operating your business out of something stationary - like a building.

OR, option B, keep the truck and play one of the following: (I might actually consider buying something from you! I'm usually afraid that you're some madman trying to poison your customers, but if you played some cool tunes, I'd be like, no way, he's awesome. Crazy? Maybe, I don't know. But he likes cool tunes, so he's okay by me.)
the flaming lips
radiohead
feist
kasabian
muse
pink floyd
the doors
the concretes
the arcade fire
etc......

Basically ANYTHING that doesn't suck. That would be great. Did you know that there are literally thousands of songs out there that wouldn't cause me to fly into a homicidal rage?

I'm so glad that you are reading my blog while sitting in your truck, otherwise, my typing this directive would be of no use!

TTYL,
Lauren

in NYT's corrections tomorrow:

An article on June 20 about Marty Siegel, 7-Eleven aficionado and admitted virgin, was incorrectly titled. It should have read "For a Fan, an Obsession with 7-Eleven, 24/7; Depression, Misery, Self-Loathing, Can't Get a Date"

I don't know... maybe I'm too harsh. Just, like, I just wish everyone could just be nice to each other. And everyone should just, like, love life and do what they want to do. You know? Be you. Why do I have to hate? It's just, you know, like, my daddy was never there and I hate myself and I make fun of people to compensate for my shortcomings. And I wish I could stop! I wish I could. It's just the only way I ever feel good about myself.

Nevermind, I re-read the article and that guy is definitely a virgin.

A related idea: everyone around the world should agree to stop using the word "fuck" and in its stead use the word "dork", as they are synonyms meaning "to have sex." Wouldn't that be hilarious? Because "fuck" is considered such a dirty bad word, and "dork" is, like, completely unoffending. ha ha ha ha. And then eventually parents and prudes would catch on and it would be THE D-word, and the F-word would be meaningless, over time completely erased from the English language.

ha ha ha ha.

I'm so stupid, that wasn't even funny. Every kid at one point learns what "dork" really means and thinks it's funny that everyone calls each other a word meaning "to have sex" and no one thinks it's dirty. The English language and its curse words are so fucked up.

But I'm still posting this, I hate myself. You know, that 7/11 guy is probably a really happy person.

Today I read an article about Johnny Depp in my parents' Newsweek (umm.... yeah... maybe one percent more respectable than People?). I'll just say that I didn't inherit my tastes and interests from my parents and move on. Some quotes:

"Maybe it's just in America, but it seems that if you're passionate about something, it freaks people out. You're considered bizarre or eccentric. To me, it just means you know who you are."
-Tim Burton

"If I was going to do something, it had to be on my terms - not because I'm some hideous control freak - but because I don't want to live a lie. You really don't want to look back on your life and go, 'I was a complete fraud'."
-Johnny Depp

These men speak the truth. Be yourself.

Just don't be this guy.







(Or, be him, and people like me with hideously scarred souls as black as a black crayon (really black, jet black, darker than a black shirt or sweater, especially if they're cotton, because cotton fades. i hate cotton sweaters) will mercilessly make fun of you and feel no guilt whatsoever.)

Blogger.com wouldn't suck half as much if it were to call itself "blooger.com" instead. "Blogger" is too obvious. "Blooger" makes people laugh because it sounds like the word "booger" and I took a poll, and everyone the world over (even the savages who eat bugs, live in tree trunks, speak jibberish and walk around with their junk hanging out) agrees: "booger" is a ridiculously silly word.

Incidentally, I ate my boogers as a kid.

(I still do)

When we moved from our house in California, my mother discovered that for months (years?) my little brother had been wiping his boogers on the wall beside his bed behind a table or something.

I had a corner behind the recliner where I would spit loogies. We had carpet.

My brother would suck the chocolate off of peanut m&m's and then put the peanuts under the recliner. Walking to the trash takes way too much energy. I totally get it.

Children disgust me. I disgust myself. We are a dirty people.

blooger blooger blooger blooger blooger blooger blooger blooger

stuff

New York Magazine's "The Urban Etiquette Handbook" is a great guide to not pissing people off. The subway etiquette rules should be printed up and handed out at the gates of all incoming flights from Wisconsin and Iowa. Amy Poehler and David Cross contribute.

I pulled a muscle or something in my side while getting a gallon jug of water out of the fridge. That can't be good.

A few more facts about my first day at the new job:
-Of 9 women (and they were all women), I was the only one without children.
-I was the only person to bring a lunch from home.
-When I began to eat my Clif nectar bar (delicious BTW), a girl asked me "WHAT are you eating?"
-I was the only one who brought a book to read during lunch.
-Exactly 1.68 non-lunch hours were spent chit-chatting about kids, divorce, custody battles and child support, infertility clinics, trying to become pregnant, personal stories of unfit mothers and other borderline inappropriate (not to mention completely uncomfortable) workplace conversation topics.
-Again, everyone was very nice, if strangely open with complete strangers.
-I managed to stay awake all day after less than four hours of sleep last night.
-I am beat and I am going to bed now.

toilet seat covers

I started training for my new job today and... WHOA. The bathrooms have toilet seat covers.

Ever since moving here, that has been a little joke in my family, you know you're out of Oklahoma when you start to see toilet seat covers in the restrooms, har har. You would think that they aren't even sold in the state. But here I was, very much in Oklahoma, sitting to take a piss on a toilet seat with a cover. *heaven*

I usually just use long strips of toilet paper, and while toilet seat covers aren't inherently easier (you have to tear the hole out, which, if not done with precision, may render you a shredded and unusable cover), it is certainly a (small) reflection on the establishment's level of class.

Well, this place is classy. The bathrooms are CLEAN. Really clean. Everyone is very nice. I may never engage with a co-worker in conversation about the evils of the conservative right's agenda, the latest hopeful comedy on television (such as Dog Bites Man), or the merits of classic French film, but they are nice well-intentioned people.

Speaking of.... I got some real klassy magazines in the mail a couple days ago. I received the June and July issues of this bastion of literary excellence, of scholarly enlightenment. I have no clue as to the why or the how, but you just don't question these things. Say it's kismet, move on and enjoy the odd and wondrous little gifts that life allows you.

The latest features award-winning "actress" Tera Patrick on the cover. My brother and I had been in a store mocking said cover the night before it arrived in the mailbox. It stood out from the rest on the display wall, the ridiculousness of the size of her chest, and the absurd placement of her nipples, waaaaay up there. My brother said that, on me, they'd be up to my neck. Which is a rather odd conversation to have with one's brother.

Jenny McCarthy modeled for June's cover. She looked more than slightly, shall we say, enhanced. Her tits had been airbushed out and then painted back on, the end result looking much like something of a hyper-realistic sexy video game character.

I read (or skimmed) both issues and nearly had a seizure. All the colors, the disorganized columns and text boxes, so much crammed onto each page. I honestly had a headache when I was through.

If I ever become involved with a guy, only to later learn that he literally reads FHM, I will not hesitate kick him to the curb. God did not create these so that they might be read, you dolt. Wank off to the (cheap, airbrushed) pictures, wipe the goo off of Tera's tummy, throw it back onto the pile under your bed and leave it at that.

just a few things

First, and most importantly, Amy Sedaris has several upcoming television appearances. Her interviews are always highly entertaining and I hope I remember to watch. I usually don't :(

june 21: Letterman
june 28: Late Late Show With Craig Ferguson
july 10: The Colbert Report

(Amy's official unofficial fan site can always be counted on for the latest Amy news.)

2) I just downloaded Firefox.
I am an idiot. I CANNOT BELIEVE that I waited this long to look into it. I've been web-browsing with Firefox for less than half an hour and I already have everything organized and it's so fast and soooooo easy. I had no idea life could be like this.

3) I peed in a cup yesterday!
Always exciting. I had nothing to worry about - I'm not doing anything fun these days. Before I went in, I imagined handing the person the cup with poop in it. That made me laugh. A lot. A lot more than it should have, which is not at all.
But no, I didn't poop in the cup, and I was really glad I didn't when the lady who "administered the test" was surprisingly nice. I took the test at the offices of the staffing agency from hell. The secretary had said something to me about this lady being weird when I did my working interview last week. I thought she seemed nice. Quiet. (Which I can relate to, as I'm not comfortable being my joking self around people who talk to each other in baby talk and think it's funny. No seriously. Two of the others did that while I was there.) So after I got my pee on and handed the lady the cup, we shared this exchange:

Her: Have you.. done any crack cocaine recently?
Me: No.
Her: No amphetamines?
Me: No medication at all actually.
Her: Didn't smoke a doobie?
Me: Nope.
Her: Not even any crystal meth?
Me: Not even.
Her: No opiates?
Me: No. And I usually would, so it was really good timing.

I wasn't listening all that carefully, so I don't remember the first couple of questions she asked. I thought she was asking standard questions and just said no, and then after I told her I'd not even taken any medication, I realized she'd said amphetamines. And I realized she was joking with me. I was caught completely off guard. I can't remember the last time I joked with a stranger out here. Nodding and fake-laughing at the jokes old men always wanted to tell me when I worked as a supermarket checker... doesn't count.
It was a small thing that brightened my day.

I start my job Monday at 9 am. Now that I've finally found a full time job, my plans to move seem very real. It's a nice feeling, but now I'm nervous because I have so much to do between now and then. I have a stack of books I bought and never read, piles of old crap to go through, and probably 50 items that need to be ebayed and listing is SO MUCH WORK. But it's work toward moving, so... onward.

like taking candy from a baby

Today, Thursday the fifteenth of June, in the year two thousand and six, might have been the most exciting day of my life.

First, Britney Spears gave the interview of the year. It was all that I had hoped for and SO MUCH MORE.

Plus, I interviewed today for a job at a call center. Finally. The place is expanding and starts new hires every two weeks, and if the fucktards over at the staffing agency knew what they were doing, I could have started like a month ago.

So this is going to be the most amazing job ever (ignore for a moment that it is a call center). Keeping in mind that this is the midwest, wanna know the kind of cash I'm gonna make?
7.50/hr for the first thirty days
200.00 bonus after thirty days
8.00/hr after thirty days
300.00 bonus after 3 months
80.00 bonus every two weeks for attendance
plus commission on sales

That's right, eighty dollars every two weeks JUST FOR COMING TO WORK WHEN YOU'RE SUPPOSED TO. Hand over fist, I tell ya.

It's the perfect job for me: making lots of $$$, so much that I can save to move in just a few months, which will be, incidentally, the point at which I'll be so sick of it that I'm ready to strangle myself with my headset cord.

Also, the whole "call center" thing isn't quite as scary as I'd imagined it to be. They call businesses who already use the company's services, asking them to renew for the next year and with special offers and stuff. It's still not exactly a fun time, but it requires very few brain cells and I won't have the guilt that comes with harassing innocent people at home.

Oh, and I can wear jeans. Whatever the fuck I want. No makeup and no curling iron action required.

ARE YOU READY??!?!?!

Britney Spears is about to SPEAK. I can barely control my bowels.

now let's cleanse the palate

Do not open your test booklet until I have said to begin. Read all instructions thoroughly. You have thirty minutes to complete the test. You will have a five-minute warning when twenty-five minutes have passed. You must immediately stop working and put your pencil down when I say time is up. BEGIN:

Compare and contrast:
1)
Jack Black attends the LA premiere of his new film Nacho Libre Monday, ducks out of the theatre after the lights go down, to get back to his "lovin's."
Tom Cruise takes off seven days after the birth of his daughter to promote Mission: Impossible III. Oh, but on his third day away, he skipped a press conference to shop for the kid!

2)
Denise Richards, fresh from a whirlwind European getaway with new love Richie Sambora and without her two daughters, whores it up with the Pussycat Dolls in Vegas.
Charlie Sheen, the same night, attends the Butterfly Ball, a fund-raising event for a nonprofit that helps the homeless.

Open question:
What do you think of these two?

i should really be sleeping

But I'm not. And I'm bored. So I'm going to go all "dear diary" on this blog's ass and talk about how I found comedy.

I wrote a little about this in that way-too-long analysis of the current state of television a month back.

I guess the first comedy I was exposed to was I Love Lucy. And I did. I really really loved her. I still consider it classic, but I'm no crazed fan. Can't remember the last time I saw the show. I guess it was a good place to start for a young girl. I was watching The Cosby Show along with everyone else. I loved reruns of Laverne and Shirley, and when I got older, Cheers and the occasional episode of Seinfeld. When I could stay up, I remember watching the late-night shows. When I was old enough to know better, I preferred Letterman.

I think I discovered SNL the season after Garofalo & Kightlinger were on the show. In other words, when it started to come back to life. (Though I love Garofalo & Kightlinger. It's just that that season was awful.) I loved Comedy Central, where I caught up on my SNL reruns. There was also this show I remember watching... Strangers With Candy. I was about 14 when it came out, and I loved it, but of course it was not exactly "clean" entertainment. Also, the Upright Citzines Brigade, but it was the same deal with that show. And Kids in the Hall. All so dirty!

I should mention here that my parents were very protective. I think I was only allowed PG films until I was 16 and was driving and could hide the contraband I'd rented on my own. Now, of course, like any normal kid I'd seen my fair share of stuff that I wasn't allowed to with my delinquent friends. But still, I didn't grow up seeing stand-up on tv or watching anything really groundbreaking with my parents. You see, my parents are Christians. My father is a preacher, in fact. Oh, and my mother's father? A preacher. So one can understand that I had a lot of catching up to do once I realized all that was out there in the comedy world.

So yeah, at the time SWC was on the air, I only watched when I happened upon it and my parents weren't there to tell me to turn that filth off. When I saw the DVDs after they came out, I instantly remembered the brilliant show and bought them, watched them, watched them some more and then turned all my friends onto the show. I can't remember exactly when it was, but I was either about to, or just starting college. So now I was safe to watch all the dirty tv shows and movies I'd ever wanted to. I'd always loved comedy, but now I started watching, catching up and researching like it was my job.

My college experience was less than satisfactory. I went into it with the mindset that loans were bad, as my father told me basically that I could NOT have college loans, this the man who hadn't saved anything for my college, as he believed it was the child's responsibility, not the parent's. My parents told me they could help about 1200/semester. So money was tight in college and my sophomore year it just got bad. I ended up dropping out halfway through that spring semester.

I didn't make any friends at college, really. It was nothing like I had imagined. I had hoped it might be slighly better than the town where I'd gone to high school, but no, I was still in this shitty state and it really made no difference. Basically everyone sucked. People already had their friends and didn't need any more. This was my worst fear realized. I'd gone to school hoping to learn and to make cool friends, have awesome experiences, etc.

BUT at the beginning of sophomore year I met this really awesome girl with whom, in nearly every detail of our lives, we found creepy similarities. We were instantly best friends. We smoked pot together. I never smoked pot in high school because I didn't have those kinds of friends (didn't have many friends). Yeah, high school was boring. So I met someone cool and we were having a grand time, but school had gotten out of hand, I was depressed and I didn't know what the fuck I was doing. I hated my classes because I had idiot professors and so I didn't go to class. Thus, school had become a giant waste of money, and it was quickly putting me into debt. So I left.

Just a few months later, the Asssscat special came out on Bravo. It was the most amazing thing I'd ever seen. When I thought improv, I thought the Drew Carey shit that's on tv. But this longform stuff was incredible. I instantly knew that this was something I wanted to do. And the more I learned about it, and of the improv communities that exist, I knew I had to be a part of that.

I'd always harbored a secret dream of becoming a comedian, but never really thought it practical or realistic as a career. Just as I would never have gone to school for drama, even though I have always wanted to act. As a child there was nothing I wanted more, and I don't remember ever saying anything to my parents, so if I did they must have quickly doused that fire. I never mentioned this desire to anyone as far back as I can remember, but it's always been there. My family was never, shall we say, supportive of my dreams. So I quickly put all of those silly thoughts away and figured I'd study something serious and get some serious job and wear a suit every day. There could not possibly be anything less practical for me.

Very important in coming to the conclusion that I have, was realizing how imcompatible the kind of lifestyle I really want to lead would be with any "traditional" job. I doesn't matter how poor I'd be, if I could just do comedy, be friends with comedians and do projects with cool people, I'd be happy.

I should also state here that I know how likely it is that I will suck and never make a cent performing. But I feel strongly enough to take that chance, and I have a stronger feeling that I will succeed to some degree than that I will be an utter failure (not conceit, just enough confidence to to something as crazy as I am about to do). And I do know that if I achieve any level of success, it will take a long long time to get there.

AND I don't need to be a movie star, I don't need to be on SNL, and I do NOT want a facking sitcom.

ANYWAY, it took me a while after deciding to study improv to finally get comfortable with the idea of doing stand-up. I've actually thought in terms of stand-up for a long time, if that makes any sense. I'd write monologue in my head. But I never thought seriously about doing stand-up. I only recently began writing down my jokes (and sketch ideas) regularly. The more I learn about the scene up in NY, the less intimidating it becomes and the more excited I get about trying out my set.

I'd been planning on getting to NY for a vacation for a long time when I finally went in Nov 2005, even thought I shouldn't have (me = broke). By then, just a few months after first seeing Asssscat, I was completely confident in my decision to pursue comedy, so I was very excited to finally take in some live shows. I saw Asssscat, naturally, and it was incredible, naturally. It just cemented my feelings that this was something I had to do. I also saw Free to be Friends, I believe in its first run, which was brilliant. It was a cool experience and I could totally see myself doing this kind of stuff. And of course the city was great. It had been nine years since I'd been to NY, I'd always loved the city and hoped to end up there. I eat up every good book or website about the city I come across - living vicariously until I am there myself.

So then I just had to find a way to New York. This meant first getting $$ stuff in order, which I am still working on. It's a vicious cycle: I can't afford to move to a place where I might find a good job, so I stay here where I can live for free, but where finding work is nearly impossible. But at least now I know what I want to do, and what I have to do to get there.

I can't imagine anyone being interested in this, but I thought I might share my story of "discovering" comedy before going any further with this blog. And it has been decidedly un-funny. I left out the funny stories and anecdotes so it wouldn't get too long. Too late!

At least now it's out of the way.

NASA better get cracking on that whole colonizing Mars thing

If it's not one thing, it's another (that has got to be the most inane phrase ever).

Do you realize the kind of threats our country and planet face every day? Do you?

So the west coast is completely unsafe. First, an earthquake in the Cascadia Subduction Zone just off the coast could happen anytime, triggering a giant tsunami. THEN there is the "supervolcano" that lies under 450 square kilometers of Yellowstone National Park. But get this - if it were to erupt, it would cover 3/4 of the US in ash - only the east coast would be safe. What part of "super" and "450 square kilometers" did you not understand? Oh and it would alter the earth's climate so dramatically as to cause famine the world over.

The areas that would not be directly affected by the volcano? Well, it's another. Hurricanes are always a looming threat.

Thinking about heading to the north pole? OH YEAH, at any moment an asteroid could strike the earth, and there's no telling where that thing's gonna land. So it won't matter where you run, you're still royally fucked.

So I may as well just kill myself now. It would surely be better than living in this constant fear.

Or I should think about turning off these sick shows, peddling fear to poor ignorant fools such as myself. Yep, no more History and Discovery channel for me. All those scientists with their "research" can go shove it. I'm going back to my Lifetime.

Until I become obsessively frightened of becoming fifteen and pregnant, gang raped in an alley after my shift at the highway diner, or the oblivious bride of a pedophile.

hearing check

Free, courtesy of this Times piece about teens and a clever new ringtone. I am happy to report that, despite a lifelong morning ritual of blasting Peter Cetera for four straight hours, my hearing is a-okay.

Over at a special thing, people been talkin bout how out of hand this trend of comedic glorifying of superheroes/historical figures/chuck norris has become, and while I agree, this is just delightful:

rage, and the latest in youtubery goodness

WHY won't blogger upload my pics. Whazzup? C'mon. Seriously. I was going to upload a bunch of melt-your-heart pics of my furry little monster Dasiy.

Oh. I see. You don't want to be on the receiving end of multiple lawsuits from the furious family members of people dead at the hand of saccharin overdose (preposition count = 6). Well, she's not THAT cute. Promise. We'll try again.

Oh really? Well, fuck you too, Blogger. And I was lying. She IS that cute and you're totally missing out.

In the meantime, watch the lost episode of NYPD Blue. And no, Denis Franz's ass is nowhere to be seen. Your retinas are safe.

makes-you-smart tv

Or at least, filling-your-brain-with-totally-useless-facts tv. For the most part. I'll admit that, inexplicably, I feel as though I'm accomplishing something by watching history programs.

So yes, in the break I took from blogging, I watched a lot of television. Naturally. Mostly really random stuff on the History channel. A sampling: Washington the Warrior, Who Wrote the Bible, Digging for the Truth, Mysteries of the Freemasons, UFO Files, Building in the Name of God, oh and half a dozen more....

Deadliest Catch (Discovery). I really have no way of explaining my fascination with a show about Alaskan crab fisherman, but I am sure that my vast knowledge of king crab fishery practices will be useful in some future situation.

I am completely obsessed with the show Mega Disasters. I've seen nearly all of them and I will fully own up to what some might call morbid fascination. (Although I think of it more as emergency preparedness.) Episodes include these what-ifs:

"Asteroid Apocalypse," in which a 2km-long asteroid hits the earth off the coast of LA, killing millions on impact, and setting off a string of events that will kill millions more (ridiculous tsunamis, famine, etc).
"West Coast Tsunami," in which an earthquake and tsunami devastate the west coast. And it's not a matter of IF, it's a matter of WHEN. Chilling.
"New York City Hurricane," in which we learn what a direct hit from a category 3 hurricane might do to NY. Think major flooding downtown and deep into Brooklyn, flooded subways, and, ohhhh, less than two days after determining the storm's change in direction to evacuate a few million peeps. And again, the experts say that it's gonna happen, the city is overdue.

Know what? I think Pat Robertson's been watching these shows too. The Lord didn't tell him disaster would strike these cities, Discovery channel did. And he's gonna "told you so" all of us after it goes down.

The Revolution is a new 13-part series on the History channel that began last Sunday. When I watch these shows I'm always shocked by how much I remember from history classes. Because, you see, I never read the textbooks and kinda skipped a lot of class. Remarkably, I got all A's and just a few B's over the course of my high school career. With the exception of Mrs. Franklin's class.

AP american history, senior year. She was a big fat woman with pinkish blonde dyed hair and a proclivity to wearing Birkenstock sandals. She and her husband (also a big fatty) were the hippie liberals. Any others at the school were closeted (this is the heartland). At the time I still thought I was a Republican, just like everyone else. (And just like my parents!) And so I, and my classmates, mercilessly made fun of them. Everyone thought that they were real funny and original when they inevitably made the joke "how do they have sex? must take a year to find his penis" etc etc.

This was a pretty hardcore class. She knew her shit. It was more college-like than any of the other AP classes I took, and in fact, a lot more college-like than 90% of the classes I took in college. We're talking major reading. The class used a college text, and to pass exams, just listening in class and taking notes, and then studying said notes, would not be enough. And I think I mentioned my beef with texts. I don't do texts. So I got B's & C's all year in her class and then, final quarter, an F. So she gave me a D that second semester EVEN though I got a high B on the final, which accounted for a large percentage of the final grade. I'm still pretty sure it should have been a C. This meant that I would no longer graduate with honors. But whatev. I'm so totally over it now.

High school only matters to a person in high school and fortunately I knew it then. But I was disappointed to be lumped in with all the average students at graduation: people would have no way of knowing that I wasn't a complete idiot. As I walked across the stage they would surely think "What a dumbass. Why are we wasting time on her? These sub human creatures should not be allowed to participate in the ceremony. Hurry up and get to my kid." Now all that matters is that I graduated.
By the by, I graduated with a 4.1-something. This merely means that I took a lot of honors and AP classes, which were easy at my school, and that I'm REALLY GOOD at bullshitting. I may not have learned any of what we were studying, but I always rocked those essays.


What was I posting about, again? tv. yeah. Good stuff, that tv.

long time, no see

Believe it or not (don't, I'm kinda lying here), I've been busy! Okay (the kinda lying part), meaning that I've had a few appointments and such over the last week. The rest of the time I've spent doing the same stupid shit I do every other day.

There is the usual no-job drama....
no paychecks = no money for bills = this exchange every day (on the days that I actually pick up):

Them: Hi
Me: Hello
Them: Hi, can I speak with giant fucking failure Lauren ____?
Me: May I ask who's calling?
Them: ____ Bank
Me: I'm sorry, she's not available.
*click*

I like how obvious it is that I'm the person that they want to speak with - once I ascertain that the person on the other end of the line is One Of Them, Lauren ____ is no longer available to speak. Whaddya wanna do about it, huh!?

And then there is a situation with a staffing agency that doesn't seem all that interested in finding me work. They tease me with jobs, even have me spend a day and a half doing a "working interview" during which no one actually pays any attention to my "performance," so I'm not really sure how they made that decision. Oh wait, old-dried-up-cunt #1 did mention to me no less than three times on that first day that the agency owner is "old school" ("do you know that that means?") and that it would be to my benefit to do my hair and makeup. Apparently I looked as though I'd spent the previous night in the rain in a wheelbarrow on the street.
"I'm sorry, but as it is apparent that you don't own a giant stained floral bag of various crumbling Maybelline powders and dried out mascaras, much less a curling iron and bottle of Aquanet (oh horror of horrors), I don't believe that we can offer you the position."
I guarantee you that at least one of those women owns a bag just like the one I described. The odds are in my favor, in an office like that with eight crusty middle-aged midwestern women. Oh and they were ALL women.

Anyway, the situation is not yet satisfactorily resolved (meaning I still need a job and this agency is my last hope in this worthless piece of shit town), so I'm gonna wait and see how that one plays out before I write it up. You mean there's more?!? And how! It's a doozy.

Meanwhile, Oberst, you nearly done here, buddy? I'm ready to watch Peretti's YouTube linkage.

I'm pretty sure my ears are about to get ass-raped.

Not that I'm entirely against that. Getting boned in the ear makes me as damp as a cellar down there... alll mildewy.
Surely there is a technical term for "ear sex", but alas, I google and all I get is stuff about music. Though that application for the phrase is pretty spiffy too. Won't get me off, but Electric Six's sweet grooves get me so so close.