1 when you drop something in a a store and people see you do it. They look even more badly at you when you put said item back. Epsecially if it is a child size picnic table that you just decided you don't need since you don't have a yard. Upon hearing this news, the tiny table will throw itself to the ground, not break, but make it evident that it is missing several bolts. Salvation Army will try to make you buy it.
2 children throwing tantrums. Prince doesn't throw many but when he does they are spectacular, and people stare at me like I am a terrible parent and person in general because my kid is screaming like I cut his head off when I actually told him " no candy"
3 spilling things. I am either very good at spilling things, or terrible at keeping them contained. If something is going to spill, it will always be very loud when something serious is going on, or else it will happen when someone important is watching you and if you are very unlucky it will happen ON that person.
4 Farting. Farting is just embarrassing. It is also embarrassing when you end up witnessing the fart of someone else. They you have to decide if you are going to address it or ignore it, and it is awkward for both parties.
5 Being around drunk people who are not in your usual group of drinking buddies. We have all had this happen. You have a group of people you always drink with. You know what each other drinks, and you know how those people react to alcohol. Chances are they react about the same as you. If you are a member of of the "Really chill, laid back" type pf drunkenness, it is awkward and disturbing when someone brings a "Loud, rowdy, breaking-shit" type of drunk into your mix. Often, you must evict the inviter from the group due to this indiscretion.
6 WHen someone catches you singing. You were alone, and happily belting out the lyrics to " I dreamed a Dream" when you turn around to see three coworkers staring at you. ANd then they will poke fun you for this.
7 Conspicuous zits. They are there. They hurt. You know they are there, a beacon of blemish, and yet someone, or several someones feel morally obligated to point out that there is an oozing pustule the size of Venus on your chin.
8 Operating someone else's television. Everyone knows how thier TV works, and all TVs are different. You go to your buddy's house and while they are preparing dinner, they hand you the remote with hurried instruction on how to "watch whatever you want".What happens is you break their TV and make it turn into scary snow, and your friend thinks you are stupid.
9 The first day of work. You haven't been judged this harshly since High School. And you KNOW there is someone there, sizing you up, who wanted the position that you ended up with. Look out for that guy. You'll have to ask 30000 questions of the course of the day and everyone will think you are mildly retarded.
10. Having a card decline. You KNOW there is money there. You put it there yesterday. Now ou $200 worth of groceries and personal lubricant ( His and Hers Sensual Arousal which is sitting proudly on top of your TP and your Windex) THe card declines three times, you give up, leave your oreos and lube behind, go to the bank and discover that yes, you do have $600 in your checking account. And now, they don't know why it didn't work. SO you take out cash and return to the store to find all your stuff had been put back. Now you have to start all over. And now you will be 17 cents short.
11. When tampons fall out of your purse. Always in front of boys men, your boss, or a group of elderly people. The following "jokes" aren't much fun either.
12. Needing toilet paper and having to ask. What's worse then having to inform a total stranger that your ass is wet and possibly covered in excrement, and could they please lend you a few squares of toilet tissue? Yeah. Awkward.
13. When parents ask about your sex life. Or spontaneously inform you of theirs. This can be completely scarring. Especially when done in WalMart. Thanks, Dad.
Yeah, AWkward. I know you well......
Monday, June 28, 2010
Sunday, June 27, 2010
this is what I look like, jus tin case you were wondering
This is me. I look 16, I know. The zit on my chin doesn't help but oh well. I"m pretty normal looking, not pretty , not ugly ,not fat. This is before i go to work. My hair is in pigtails because i need to have it up as I work in food service but it's too short to be in one ponytail. The bows are just.... well, if you have to wear pigtails, you may as well go all the way.SO now you know who is babbling at you
A Harrowing Ordeal
Yesterday was A Harrowing Ordeal. It did not start out as such. It started out pretty damn normal. I went to work. I made balloons. I read Miss Manners. Everything was going swimmingly, but for the fact that thepeople I was hosting this particular birthday party for were grumpy buttmunches who somehow expected me to bring 20 pizzas, drinks, and individual bags of cheetos to them all by myself, instead of walking by and picking them up cafeteria style like normal, less entitled people would do, especially when the person (me) just cooked 20 meals, placed them neatly on a long bar and said "Alright, food up!" . But no. After 10 minutes the grumpy party mom asked me "Well, are you going to bring it to us or what?"
Ummmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm..............No.
How do you expect me to accomplish that?Hmm? It is OBVIOUSLY more effecient to line up everyone and grab your own pizza, chips and drink. If you can't see that, I can't help you.
But that was only the begginning.
Then I had to ring these people up. Normally this is no big deal. Their total was only $61. But someone had already checked these people out ( Note: I work in a hotel and we rent out rooms for parties and meetings, but in the computer its like they are staying in the hotel) Now I am only allowed to know how to do one thing- ring up parties. If somethign is even an Iota off from what I was taught, I cannot do it since I am not allowed to know how to other things ( Or fix them) The real front desk person couldn't figure it out either. He told me to call the manager, who had left 15minutes ago.
Now, normally I like the manager. Her name starts with C and she's a sweetheart of epic proportions and is normally very sweet and pateint when it comes to explaining things to me, as I am pretty damn slow at stuff like this. Unfortunately, without her RIGHT THERE, her instructions were useless, confusing, and frustrating because she wanted me to do things that I'm not technically allowed to do and therefore didn't know how to do them, so I was fucking it up. She'd say " Push this button"
I say "Ok"
She says "What happened?"
I say " It turned blue"
She says " It can't turn blue"
I say "Well it did."
She says "Let me talk to Real Desk Person"
I thrust phone at RDP. After a moment he hands it back to me.
She says "Push "Billing"
I say " I can't, its greyed out."
SHe says "WHY?"
At this point I want to bang the phone on the counter repeatedly at this point, but I can't because the people I am trying to ring up are standing in front of me and I am beginning to look petulant and frustrated and they are looking at me like I am retarded.
FInally I just kill the whole thing and run their party for only $61 (after throwing my own damn dollar in there, since all they had was $60 and I was SO DONE I didn't care) and hand them the reciept. While dealing with this, my assitant arrived and stole my keys from aorund my neck and went back to the kitchen.
I storm upstairs and star blowing up balloons with fury, but they are small and leaky and keep falling over. I don't care. My boss J asks me what is wrong. I tell him I just suffered a harrowing computer induced ordeal and ow what to either a kill myself, b, kill someone else or c just plain fucking quit.
He says " None of those are good options, just do the balloons" so I do.
I leave for a minute to find Assistant and Lifegaurd discussing blowjobs. Now, I had already discussed with Assistant the fact that I had never giving a blowjob. jumping to conclusions I said " WHAT? Are you telling him that I never-" ( At this point I realize that I have given myself away and turn and storm off into the stock room, vowing to never come out> But I have to eventually)
Assistant laughs at me. For some unknown and traitorous reason, I feel my eyes trying to cry. I don't know why. SHe then tries to tell me that not having a reputation for giving blowjobs is a good thing, and think of how awkward it would be if two people you had givin blowjobs to began to discuss your technique. I asked her if this had happened to her. She said "..................no.............." THen she told me about all the places she had sex. This will get us both fired. ANd makes me want to take a shower.
Then Boss J tells me to write down all the prices plus tax on a peice of paper. When I try to grab a chair Assisant yanks is out from under me. I am pisse.d BUt then the popcorn machine tries to kill Asisstant who runs away screaming and hypervhentalating, which was quite funny.
THen I had to deal with Dave. ( Dave has a name because I do not like him. IF you are nameless, I'm cool with you. ) Dave is just irritating. He makes me feel combative. He makes fun of how I parent, how I dress, how I talk. After 15 minutes of this I finally just blurt out, I don't like you DAve!
THe silence ensuing is pretty epic. Dave leaves. I am glad. I don't like him. But he continues to return several times thrughout the evening.
Finaly, I get to leave,and come home to find Keving and Jake going to Dominos. Jake gets me a lava cake, but I fall asleep before they get back so he puts the lava cake on my stomach as though I am a plant and I can absorb the nurtrients. I can't and its hot, as it is a lava cake. I wake up with molten chocolate on my stomach, toss it in the fridge an dgo to bed.
I had the lava cake for breakfast. Awesome, I know.
But that is why yesterday was a harrowing ordeal. Maybe "harrowing " Is a bit extreme, but it suck. At least I got cake out of it.
Ummmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm..............No.
How do you expect me to accomplish that?Hmm? It is OBVIOUSLY more effecient to line up everyone and grab your own pizza, chips and drink. If you can't see that, I can't help you.
But that was only the begginning.
Then I had to ring these people up. Normally this is no big deal. Their total was only $61. But someone had already checked these people out ( Note: I work in a hotel and we rent out rooms for parties and meetings, but in the computer its like they are staying in the hotel) Now I am only allowed to know how to do one thing- ring up parties. If somethign is even an Iota off from what I was taught, I cannot do it since I am not allowed to know how to other things ( Or fix them) The real front desk person couldn't figure it out either. He told me to call the manager, who had left 15minutes ago.
Now, normally I like the manager. Her name starts with C and she's a sweetheart of epic proportions and is normally very sweet and pateint when it comes to explaining things to me, as I am pretty damn slow at stuff like this. Unfortunately, without her RIGHT THERE, her instructions were useless, confusing, and frustrating because she wanted me to do things that I'm not technically allowed to do and therefore didn't know how to do them, so I was fucking it up. She'd say " Push this button"
I say "Ok"
She says "What happened?"
I say " It turned blue"
She says " It can't turn blue"
I say "Well it did."
She says "Let me talk to Real Desk Person"
I thrust phone at RDP. After a moment he hands it back to me.
She says "Push "Billing"
I say " I can't, its greyed out."
SHe says "WHY?"
At this point I want to bang the phone on the counter repeatedly at this point, but I can't because the people I am trying to ring up are standing in front of me and I am beginning to look petulant and frustrated and they are looking at me like I am retarded.
FInally I just kill the whole thing and run their party for only $61 (after throwing my own damn dollar in there, since all they had was $60 and I was SO DONE I didn't care) and hand them the reciept. While dealing with this, my assitant arrived and stole my keys from aorund my neck and went back to the kitchen.
I storm upstairs and star blowing up balloons with fury, but they are small and leaky and keep falling over. I don't care. My boss J asks me what is wrong. I tell him I just suffered a harrowing computer induced ordeal and ow what to either a kill myself, b, kill someone else or c just plain fucking quit.
He says " None of those are good options, just do the balloons" so I do.
I leave for a minute to find Assistant and Lifegaurd discussing blowjobs. Now, I had already discussed with Assistant the fact that I had never giving a blowjob. jumping to conclusions I said " WHAT? Are you telling him that I never-" ( At this point I realize that I have given myself away and turn and storm off into the stock room, vowing to never come out> But I have to eventually)
Assistant laughs at me. For some unknown and traitorous reason, I feel my eyes trying to cry. I don't know why. SHe then tries to tell me that not having a reputation for giving blowjobs is a good thing, and think of how awkward it would be if two people you had givin blowjobs to began to discuss your technique. I asked her if this had happened to her. She said "..................no.............." THen she told me about all the places she had sex. This will get us both fired. ANd makes me want to take a shower.
Then Boss J tells me to write down all the prices plus tax on a peice of paper. When I try to grab a chair Assisant yanks is out from under me. I am pisse.d BUt then the popcorn machine tries to kill Asisstant who runs away screaming and hypervhentalating, which was quite funny.
THen I had to deal with Dave. ( Dave has a name because I do not like him. IF you are nameless, I'm cool with you. ) Dave is just irritating. He makes me feel combative. He makes fun of how I parent, how I dress, how I talk. After 15 minutes of this I finally just blurt out, I don't like you DAve!
THe silence ensuing is pretty epic. Dave leaves. I am glad. I don't like him. But he continues to return several times thrughout the evening.
Finaly, I get to leave,and come home to find Keving and Jake going to Dominos. Jake gets me a lava cake, but I fall asleep before they get back so he puts the lava cake on my stomach as though I am a plant and I can absorb the nurtrients. I can't and its hot, as it is a lava cake. I wake up with molten chocolate on my stomach, toss it in the fridge an dgo to bed.
I had the lava cake for breakfast. Awesome, I know.
But that is why yesterday was a harrowing ordeal. Maybe "harrowing " Is a bit extreme, but it suck. At least I got cake out of it.
Friday, June 25, 2010
Introduction to Me.
Hi. At this point I am talking to absolutely no one, because I am blog baby and no one knows that I exist. I tried to do a blog before. It didn't get much attention. It was about baby clothes. Oh well.
As it is, I am an unwillingly at home mom ( as my current employer is NOT LETTING ME WORK LIKE I WANT) and spend a lot of freaking time either cleaning, painting stuff, catching food on fire and reading blogs and playing with Prince ( the most worthwhile thing I do)
Then I thought. I can do this. I think stuff. I'm clever, witty, adorable and mildly insane. I don;t even use my real name, so no one knows who I am.
SO here it goes. I will give you some blank info, not highly incriminating, and I will expound from there.
I am 21.
I am married and have been for nearly three years. ( That's right, I got married at 19. ANd yes, its not a good idea)
I have a son and he is damn near perfect. But since I am not using my name, I shan't use his either, so from here on out, my son will be know as "Prince"
I work somewhere, and it involves people, hospitality and food. I have a polo shirt, but I do not wear it and no one bothers me about it unless the Big Boss is coming.
I drive a CRAPTASTIC car.
From here I will expound upon the fact that I hate my car.
The car is OLDER then I am. I was born in 88 this car is an 86. That is well beyond the life expectancy of any car. Honestly with how this car keeps coming back from the dead its like a zombie.
It has no doorpanels as Husband too apart the doors to fin the windows that had fallen off the track and then ran over the door panels. Now I am constantly having the backs of my legs bitten by a car. Not cool Zombie car not cool.
Also the starter is bad on the car. It takes at least three tries to
get the car to start and in the mean time it SCREAMS at me inprotest, causing me to scream profanity back at it, bang my head on the wheel, kick the dash and say, "I fucking hate you, car!" and then it starts. But during this process, onlookers stare and mock me.
Then, once the keys does turn, you then have to actually push the pedal down. This is something that requires considerable skill, and the cable is either too lose too tight or just too damn old, because you have to stop it like a rat in a deli to make it even start to go and even then sometimes it just fucking dies and then you have to do the whole screaming starter thing all over again.
Once you get going you need to deal with the fact that this car has two heaters and no AC, which really sucks in Utah in June. Five minutes means have a near stroke from heat. Prince pants and turns bright red within seconds.
Not to mention the fact that the car is ugly. Husband decided to anally rape a Cadillac a few months back, so we had to Frankenstien the car back together with a car that isn't even the same. The car now permenantly drifts to the right now.
This car sucks. People poke fun at me in my ugly ass car. Policemen pull me over because the car looks "Too bad to not be up to something" not to mention it cost $75 to fill the gas tank, which is a weekly, and sometimes twice weekly event . Paying $75 for gas is like being raped with a nozzle,and having your wallet stolen, no shit.
Husband says he has found me a new car, and by new he means a 1988 Country Squire station wagon, which is practically a mobile home. But it has AC and door panels and is all one color so I am willing to give it a shot.
As it is, I am an unwillingly at home mom ( as my current employer is NOT LETTING ME WORK LIKE I WANT) and spend a lot of freaking time either cleaning, painting stuff, catching food on fire and reading blogs and playing with Prince ( the most worthwhile thing I do)
Then I thought. I can do this. I think stuff. I'm clever, witty, adorable and mildly insane. I don;t even use my real name, so no one knows who I am.
SO here it goes. I will give you some blank info, not highly incriminating, and I will expound from there.
I am 21.
I am married and have been for nearly three years. ( That's right, I got married at 19. ANd yes, its not a good idea)
I have a son and he is damn near perfect. But since I am not using my name, I shan't use his either, so from here on out, my son will be know as "Prince"
I work somewhere, and it involves people, hospitality and food. I have a polo shirt, but I do not wear it and no one bothers me about it unless the Big Boss is coming.
I drive a CRAPTASTIC car.
From here I will expound upon the fact that I hate my car.
The car is OLDER then I am. I was born in 88 this car is an 86. That is well beyond the life expectancy of any car. Honestly with how this car keeps coming back from the dead its like a zombie.
It has no doorpanels as Husband too apart the doors to fin the windows that had fallen off the track and then ran over the door panels. Now I am constantly having the backs of my legs bitten by a car. Not cool Zombie car not cool.
Also the starter is bad on the car. It takes at least three tries to
get the car to start and in the mean time it SCREAMS at me inprotest, causing me to scream profanity back at it, bang my head on the wheel, kick the dash and say, "I fucking hate you, car!" and then it starts. But during this process, onlookers stare and mock me.
Then, once the keys does turn, you then have to actually push the pedal down. This is something that requires considerable skill, and the cable is either too lose too tight or just too damn old, because you have to stop it like a rat in a deli to make it even start to go and even then sometimes it just fucking dies and then you have to do the whole screaming starter thing all over again.
Once you get going you need to deal with the fact that this car has two heaters and no AC, which really sucks in Utah in June. Five minutes means have a near stroke from heat. Prince pants and turns bright red within seconds.
Not to mention the fact that the car is ugly. Husband decided to anally rape a Cadillac a few months back, so we had to Frankenstien the car back together with a car that isn't even the same. The car now permenantly drifts to the right now.
This car sucks. People poke fun at me in my ugly ass car. Policemen pull me over because the car looks "Too bad to not be up to something" not to mention it cost $75 to fill the gas tank, which is a weekly, and sometimes twice weekly event . Paying $75 for gas is like being raped with a nozzle,and having your wallet stolen, no shit.
Husband says he has found me a new car, and by new he means a 1988 Country Squire station wagon, which is practically a mobile home. But it has AC and door panels and is all one color so I am willing to give it a shot.
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