self-induced amnesia

Man, you know you've had one crazy night when you wake up with bruises all over your body that you just can't explain. How do you get a bruise on your boob? I don't remember there being a mosh pit or any chest region man-handling. But then again I also don't remember most of the text messaging version of drunk dialing I did either, though I'm almost certain I mailed a picture of a toilet. And come-on lines...generally really lame, but every once in a while you get something so creative you almost feel compelled to reward the person just on principle...not that I'm THAT much of a prize, but as almost everybody knows self-esteem is directly proportional to the amount of liquor one consumes.

weekend update

Man, having to work REALLY makes you appreciate having a weekend off. Especially the whole sleeping in part of the deal. Waking up before The Today Show ends just has no appeal other than the fact that you can get a croissant breakfast thingie from Burger King. It's easier for me to stay awake all night than it is for me to force myself out of a warm and cozy slumber. Plus, you dream a lot more when you aren't forced awake by the insanely loud harping of an alarm clock, and I am the kind of person that remembers my dreams and then overanalyzes them. Although yesterday, despite having to be awake before the roosters, I had the BEST dream. I woke up with a smile and knew I was going to have a great day. And I did. There wasn't any traffic on the way to work. I didn't screw up training. Then I went to see my awesome friend Jen and we hung out and had a great dinner, I haven't had crab cakes that delicious since I lived in DC. We watched Strangers With Candy, I remembered that the show is funny, but I forgot how completely random it is, Amy Sedaris is my hero...those DVDs are on definitely on my to buy list. To wrap up the day, I drove home and they actually weren't doing any construction, I didn't get pulled over by any of the kabillion cops that were out last night and I made it home lickity split. So now Saturday is upon me and I haven't a clue what I should be out doing. Because when you work, you're supposed to make your weekends count right? It's been a while, I can't really remember.

weekend update

Man, having to work REALLY makes you appreciate having a weekend off. Especially the whole sleeping in part of the deal. Waking up before The Today Show ends just has no appeal other than the fact that you can get a croissant breakfast thingie from Burger King. It's easier for me to stay awake all night than it is for me to force myself out of a warm and cozy slumber. Plus, you dream a lot more when you aren't forced awake by the insanely loud harping of an alarm clock, and I am the kind of person that remembers my dreams and then overanalyzes them. Although yesterday, despite having to be awake before the roosters, I had the BEST dream. I woke up with a smile and knew I was going to have a great day. And I did. There wasn't any traffic on the way to work. I didn't screw up training. Then I went to see my awesome friend Jen and we hung out and had a great dinner, I haven't had crab cakes that delicious since I lived in DC. We watched Strangers With Candy, I remembered that the show is funny, but I forgot how completely random it is, Amy Sedaris is my hero...those DVDs are on definitely on my to buy list. To wrap up the day, I drove home and they actually weren't doing any construction, I didn't get pulled over by any of the kabillion cops that were out last night and I made it home lickity split. So now Saturday is upon me and I haven't a clue what I should be out doing. Because when you work, you're supposed to make your weekends count right? It's been a while, I can't really remember.

kids incorporated

For some inexplicable reason people willingly go on the journey known as parenthood. Why? I have no idea, I've heard there's a ticking clock of some kind. Just one day with my brother's spawn is enough to compel me to get my birth control prescription refilled, lest I be "blessed" with crying over toys (the crier being me only a third of the time), being told to "back off" by a five year old, and washing a poo-poo butt other than my own during bathtime. Sure, some parent might try to convince me that the hugs & kisses, "I love you"s, and gut-busting laughter because of the funny things kids say makes it all worth it. But I have enough reasons to shroud myself in self-loathing, screwing up an innocent bystander would just add a really uncomfortable fifty foot train.

special, so special

In every job, a worker always has a knack for something, at least one thing that a person is just a little bit better at than everybody else. Even I, lab dunce that I am, have that one skill. I haven't used it in a long time, not since I was government issued. But today, surprisingly, I found that I haven't lost my little gift. See in the lab, we often have to diagnose "artifacts" or "foreign bodies" in stuff like urine and genital swabs...and for some reason, I can spot a spermatozoa like nobody's business, particularly when it's in a gal's specimen. Within seconds of popping in a slide, if there is a single wiggly-guy to be found, I'll find it. I'm like the McGruff of post-coital remnants...nobody goes missing on my watch.

high beams

Did I mention how freezing cold the orientation room was today? BRRRR, it was cold even though I happened to be wearing a t-shirt and a sweater. All us newbies were unpleasantly surprised by the lack of climate control in that torture chamber they call a conference room. But the human resources ladies, they're there every frikkin' day, so the frigid temperatures should come as no shock. Therefore, I cannot and will not forgive any of them for their short sightedness in wearing thin, silky, white blouses. I checked the orientation schedule AND the checklist and the areola & nipple color/shape/size gallery viewing was nowhere to be found.

the wheels on the bus go round and round

The transit website neglected to mention that public transportation is deodorant optional and where bad hair goes to die.

semper fi

I think that orientation days are like the first few days of basic training. They're designed to weed out the weak, only the strong survive through the torment of this level of tortuously, mind-numbing boredom.

countdown

I'm in a pissy mood today, so you'll forgive my negativity. I'm trying to savor this final day as a freeloader but all I feel is tired. I haven't even started working and I'm exhausted, from digging out my uniforms to looking up bus schedules to meeting my rideshare person...stick a fork in me already. The guy I'm ridesharing with is nice enough but he's the kind of person who thinks nothing is too personal to share with a total stranger. Fifteen minutes with him and I know all about his three ex-wives, why they divorced and his financial situation.I'm really nervous about starting this new job. Let's just say that I haven't had a stellar career in the lab. I've managed to either get by on my looks or sheer luck or something else entirely because I've always worked the easiest jobs out there. Now, I'm going to be working a "real" lab job where they expect me to use skills and knowledge I've long since forgotten. It's a little frightening, especially since it's not some job where I can just wing it or bullshit my way through it because, you know, I could potentially kill somebody if I screw up...ack, the pressure.Oh and fyi, I didn't get that unemployment. Apparently my reasons weren't "compelling" enough. I'm not disappointed because I didn't really think I would get it, but I am a little irritated. I hate to pull the vag-card here but the decision is some sexist bullshit. When I was a nice little wifey and moved for my husband, THAT was a compelling enough reason to get unemployment. But after becoming a divorcee and moving for myself, well that's just not reason enough. So a big middle-finger to the unemployment office of the armpit of the Midwest.

as a heart attack

Have you ever met one of those people that are too serious? They don't have that on/off switch to tells them that in some social situations, they're supposed to be light-hearted. All they do is talk about serious things. They'll ruin a perfectly good time by bringing up something just to get everybody heated, because you just can't help but get pulled into that black hole of acerbity*. And I don't mean a person who just loves to debate because the serious person is grim even when you agree with them. They're all about analyzing emotional states and telling you about their bad childhood or worse telling you what their therapist says is wrong with them. Or worst of all, they try to tell you about yourself, as if the five minutes they spent with you somehow gave them insight into your entire life. They grasp onto something like cultural background and think they've got you ALL figured out. Now don't get me wrong, I can have elements of this person from time to time, I can be a pretentious prick too...but I like to think I have a sense of humor and a certain frivolity to balance that out. Having that oh-so-serious attitude must feel like walking around with a fifty pound cement block chained to your leg, which kind of explains why those people are considered a drag.

*As you can see, I've been using the thesaurus again. (but apparently not the spellcheck, why didn't anybody tell me I misspelled thesaurus the first time around)

fight club

I filed for unemployment when I left Kentucky. They denied it and I appealed because they gave me the option, so I took it. I ended up having to go through arbitration because they wanted to see if I had been dishonest about my claim. Needless to say, I was pissed that they called my integrity into question. You can call me lazy, you call me ugly, hell you can call me Maurice, but don't ever call me a liar when I am in fact telling the truth. I was pumped for the arbitration, I decided that since there was a snowballs chance in hell I was getting the unemployment, I would be the biggest bitch they had ever encountered. I was going to yell, accuse my workplace of nefarious deeds (all of them true mind you), say rotten and vicious things that would cut like a knife...I was ready for a governmental battle royale of epic proportions that would make them rue the day they dared to deny me my freakin' benefits. But then the day rolled around (at 6:30 in the morning cause of the time change...assholes) and what a let-down. The conference call came and my former employer didn't even bother to respond. The guy on the phone was pleasant and it lasted a whole five minutes. Hell, the stupid oath they administered took longer than the testimony. I feel like those credit card commercials where the Vikings run in to pillage and burn because of the high interest rates, then find out the mayhem is called off and walk away dejected.

fire, water, burn

I usually stay pretty pasty-pale. I don't know if it's the remnants of the gothic lifestyle I once tried on for size or the complete phobia I have of aging, but I am usually fairly melanin challenged. So yesterday on what was probably the hottest day we've had all summer, it probably wasn't a good idea to spend the entire day outside without having slathered myself with sunblock. I have the worst sunburn I've had since I decided to lay out for seven hours straight the day before we left Hawaii. I feel like a piece of bacon sizzling on a smoking-hot iron skillet. I'm almost afraid to jump in the shower and feel those stinging needles of water pressing down on my tenderized flesh.Also, completely unrelated to the scorching hotness of my outer shell, I saw Charlie and the Chocolate Factory last night. Truthfully, I didn't love it like I thought I would. The whole movie all I could think about was Gene Wilder's blue blue eyes. And the original Veruca Salt was much better. Don't get me wrong, I still liked it. I mean nobody can do crazy and still be hot like Johnny Depp...I think it's just one of those movies I'll have to watch several times before I really start to like it.

noise-pollution

I must be getting old because somebody down the street played and replayed and replayed the Yin Yang Twins cd last night until like three in the morning and their stereo had a lot of bass so you could hear it from miles away. God, I was pissed because it interrupted my pharmaceutically (legal mind you) enhanced sense of calm. If I ever hear that stupid Whisper Song again, I might have to kill somebody. Stupid kids and their new fangled music, can't they just listen to the grunge or Sir Mix-a-Lot from my day.

ghetto gourmet kitchen

Did you know that Hostess products have a web-page? And on that page, they have recipes. Not just any recipes...but recipes that any gourmand can be proud of, including a Twinkie Wedding Cake! Young brides in trailer parks around the world are very very excited.

old kleenex

There's nothing worse than letting money come between people. So why do people always put themselves in the position of letting money get in the way? Who's really in the wrong anyway? The people who borrow the money, the ones who never bring up paying the money back, as if avoiding the situation will alleviate them of their fiscal responsibility? Or is it the people who lend the money, knowing they probably won't get it back but holding onto that smoldering grudge nonethless until it eats away every positive facet of the relationship? The borrower who feels weak and beholden to the lender so that they start resenting them? The lender who feels used because they think the relationship is being measured in the dollar and cents that they can part with? I can't borrow money from other people, I don't even like to borrow ten bucks for a day...all the love and respect and time you spend investing in a relationship can just poof, disappear because of money and that seems like such a stupid reason. Personally, I'd prefer sex or violence be the things to get in the way of my friendships.

steamed at stinkies

Dear Miss Manners,

I was working out in a completely empty exercise room today when a woman came in and started working out on the machine right next to mine. I was a little confused because all of the other machines were empty (including approximately 15 additional machines in other rooms) and the woman didn't use any of them. It would never occur to me to use the machine right next to somebody when there are other machines to choose from. Could you please let me know if there are any rules of thumb regarding exercise machine use? Thank you very much.

Leary in Lakewood,
LisaM.

Dear Leary,

I am often asked this question and have to wonder what could possibly make a person choose to sweat right next to another person when they don't have to. I have found that workout machine etiquette is just like urinal etiquette, never use the potty adjacent to another person unless it is completely unavoidable or you are cruising for a glory hole partner (which has complicated rules all its own found in Miss Manners Does San Francisco co-authored by my glorious son/stylist Kristopher). Lucky for you, you can test your urinal etiquette here so that you won't make the awful faux-paux of getting too close to people unless absolutely necessary. Remember, it's just bad manners to expose people to the smell of your ass-sweat, whether at the gym or at the potty, unless there are no other options.

Truly,
Miss M.

lots of fun with picture pages

They have a track inside the YMCA's building. There are five paintings around the track so that when I walk it, I'm inundated with these repetitive images. I think that the Y is slowly trying to indoctrinate me. Now it's probably just an innocent way to instill good values, but that wouldn't be very entertaining. So let's take a look at the pictures through the lens of LisaM.

ForgivenessSomehow I doubt that Shaft would be asking forgiveness from anybody with hair dangerously close to a mullet. Cause you know Shaft...he's a bad motha...

Respect

I'm pretty sure that making the Indian dude a stereotypical computer nerd without enough fashion sense to NOT pair a short-sleeve button down with khaki shorts and socks pulled up half-way to his knees is NOT respectful. And what's with the Fonz's thumb action on the other guy...respect? I think not.

Service

Well it's not really fair to expect us to serve in the same way these two are...look how big their hands are. I can't compete with that.

Honesty
Yeah yeah yeah, women are the cause of all evil. Our dishonesty and trickery got us kicked out of the Garden of Eden. Seriously, I get it...enough already

Responsbility

Doesn't old man Weatherbee know that Archie's entire existence relies on the fact that he's completely irresponsible! How else is old fire-crotch supposed to nail the hottest chicks in town?

CaringNow this may just look like it's just a nice young lady giving a caring hand to a nice boy. BUT, the deeper context is telling me something else. It's saying that Latina or Asian ladies, probably undocumented, should prepare themselves to become the "au pair" or "domestic help" of some upper middle class family who'll pay welfare wages and consider it a sign of their generosity to let the gals eat the leftovers that they spent hours preparing.

whoopsadaisy

When you've spent almost your entire life living with other people and then all of the sudden you're living by yourself, you get used to things. And it's hard to adjust when you start living with other people again. No more walking around naked, no more eating ice cream right out of the box, no more shaving of extraneous body hair in front of the hallway mirror. I definitely learned this one the hard way this morning, no more brushing of teeth with the lights off because the horror of realizing that you've just brushed your teeth with somebody else's toothbrush...I can only think of a handful of things more disgusting.

just an excuse to eat popcorn and candy

Just saw Fantastic Four today. It was complete summer fluff, so naturally I loved it because if I wanted to think, I would watch... hell who am I kidding, I don't mix thinking with my entertainment. Johnny Storm...HOT, no pun intended. Which reminds me, before the movie started my 10-year old niece says, "Wow, Johnny Storm is really hot!" referring to the fact that he could self-combust. The sis-in-law and I laughed and the niece says, "What's so funny? (Pause for a good ten seconds) OHHHHH, I get it now." Sometimes she's so grown-up...she's like a little mini-thirty year old. AND after watching this movie, I realize how unfair the world is...it's just not right for somebody as amazing looking as Alba to exist on the same planet as the rest of us ordinary folk...it's definitely a cosmic joke on the rest of womankind.

it's a small small world

I'm rarely recognized as myself, I am usually only recognized in relation to somebody I know. Usually it's something like, "Oh, you're a friend of so-and-so" or "Right, you work with that person." But back here I am recognized in relation to...well...my relations, and it's happened twice in the last twenty-four hours. The first time I was walking my pooch at the park and there was this minor traffic jam caused by butt sniffing and genital licking (I'll just let you assume I'm talking about the dogs). Then this woman starts calling out, "S----" and I ignore it. "S----? Hey, you're S---- right?" So it dawns on me that she's talking to me and I say, "No, but I have a sister named S----." "Oh, you're H---'s other daughter." Yep, I'm either my mother's other daughter or my sister's mysterious older sister who just moved from "Alabama, oh Kentucky, same thing"...not an actual person with my own name. Today I opened a bank account and the girl looks at my name and asks me if I have any relatives that also bank there. I tell her that I didn't think so, but then she asks me, "Are you sure you're not N-----'s sister?" "Ahhhh, I am indeed his sister, I didn't realize he banked here."Hmmm, I guess I only have an identity when it is attached to somebody else. So does that make me an identity parasite?

frankie says relax

So what do you do after a long day of fixing the piece of shit car that belongs to your friend's daughter? Get a cucumber and honey facial of course! Like I really even needed to ask that question.

pinocchio

Almost everybody in this country has a car, but only about 1 in 50 people know anything about properly caring for it. Why don't they teach us that shit in school? Because let me tell you I've been hosed by mechanics hundreds of times but I've NEVER had to find the derivative of the tangent line of a circle. But I suppose that's the point of capitalism...make sure we're as ignorant as possible about the things that would actually be useful to us and then have somebody charge exorbitant rates to take advantage of our ignorance. So mechanics are on my shit list right now, they tried to hard sell me about five hundred bucks worth of services that I didn't need. The only reason I know I didn't need them is because my mom's friend checked to see if what they said jived since I suspected that they were trying to hose me. Had it not been for him I probably would have gotten the work done. So with that in mind, here is my top five list (in no particular order) of the occupations where truth-stretching is mandatory:

1. Mechanics
2. Politicians
3. Advertisers
4. Lawyers
5. Strippers

movers and shakers

The spindle has been touched, the apple has been bitten, I will now enter the deep sleep known as adult responsibility and employment. Two hours after I got back from my interview I got a phone call from the human resources person offering me the job. The pay is almost exactly what I expected, the terms I did not expect. I have to become board certified within a year...I guess that means I'll be looking for a new line of work in a year because I barely would have passed that shit right out of school...now ten years and multiple substances of abuse later, fuggedaboudit. I only have one more hurdle to pass before the job officially becomes mine.

tepid

I did really well at my interview today, it took an hour and a half which is generally a good sign. She asked me how soon I could start (I gave myself an extra two weeks of "extended vacation") and told me I would probably hear from them by the end of the week or early next week. Looks like all signs point to yes on my being employed. But I'm not really sure if I want the job. It's in a basement and frankly I have had more than my fair share of working in dungeons. The job is FAR, really really far away and the traffic is shit...I would lose countless hours of my life on a daily basis or I can move and pay way too much for a slummed out apartment. The place is kind of grungy, like ebola could be living on half of the counters. The supervisor is far too excited about the place which worries me...while all the cheerleading? None of the employees looked happy, they all had that dead eyed, tired look. But then again this is my only job prospect. The hours are good, I'm sure the pay will be okay. It wouldn't be a bad thing to live closer to Seattle, especially if I actually do go back to school next year. I just feel so lukewarm about it all, nothing about it really excites me.

signs, signs, everywhere a sign

I walk by this church almost every day and they change their signs weekly. Usually it's the boring, same old "Salvation found here." I just don't know how to feel about this one though...it's corny but has a bit of irreverence at the same time. But I'll be really impressed if they put a sign up that says something like, "One way ticket to heaven or your money back. Free tupperware gift with first saving."

to be or not to be

I've been thinking about mistakes lately. Mistakes I've made, mistakes I've avoided, how most of my mistakes have a trend based on my complete inability to maintain committments in my life. I self-analyze until I become self-aware enough to loathe myself...but then that's where I stop. I don't actually try and fix the things that are the roots of most of my issues. So is it worse to be completely unaware of why you do the things you do or worse to know why you do them and not do anything about it? I used to think it was worse to not know but now I'm starting to think that it's worse to know and not care enough to change it.

the horror!

SOB! I am in the throes of one of the worst crises of my young life...a bad haircut. I had wanted to find a salon that could rival the amazing powers of my old stylist back in Louisville, but then I let my mom convince me to go to one of her friends. I knew it wasn't a great idea, my wavy hair is hard to cut and I have a million and three cowlicks...a lot different that her mostly ajima clientele. But NEVER would I have guessed that I would end up looking like a harajuku kid who had just walked away the loser in an epic battle with a Flowbee. I need help, I am now collecting donations to find a master stylist with amazing rehabilitative powers, please send money to:

LisaM.
c/o Society for the Elimination of Hair Don'ts
3rd Pit of Hell Ave SE
Hell, WA 66666.

whoah

Though most people reserve their debauchery for Friday and Saturday nights, Thursday has become my fun night because it's the only night that my sister and her guy have off...so that's when everybody gets together. We went out last night to this place in Tacoma called The Loft. Now for those of you out of the Washington loop, Tacoma is considered the ugly bastard spawn of Seattle...we're considered utterly ghetto and totally not fabulous. But I guess The Loft is trying to have that little bit of Seattle sophistication, there's a dress code and they don't serve their drinks in plastic cups...but I'm digressing. So last night I got tee-rashed...and it was a good drunk because I was a friendly drunk and not the angry drunk I can sometimes be. I was walking around, giving people compliments because in my drunken stupors I try to up my karma by being ridiculously nice to strangers. I go to the bar and this really pretty girl starts chatting with me and then these Mexican sailors start talking to us. And somehow she and I both end up wearing their hats and this little little man in his white uniform starts dancing up on me like a rabid chihuahua humping somebody's leg...very not cool. So a guy I know comes up because he wants to chat up this girl I've met and I'm begging him, "Save me from the little man." He puts a protective arm over my shoulder, that arm that lays claim to somebody, and thankfully the little man got the hint and went away. But the girl thinks he and I are together, so we have to set her straight because at this point the guy is jonesing for her like a recovering heroin addict joneses for a Hershey's bar. Then the three of us go dance, and wow this girl is freaky....and I'm not easily impressed, so that's saying a lot. Then she goes potty and I go back to the bar, where the guy I had crushed on for a minute was standing and he gets me a drink as it's last call...which in and of itself was surprising because he usually avoids me like I'm some lecherous hag. Then the girl walks back up and I make him get her a drink too, then I introduce them and the girl is beautiful so I quickly become background noise to the two of them...cut to fifteen minutes later and they're playing one serious game of tonsil hockey as if their tongues are searching for some hidden treasure in the back of each other's throats. And strangely she had a camera, so now she has oodles of pictures of us. Thursday night madness...who knew?

about time

FINALLY! I have a job interview on Wednesday...yay for me! Too bad the job is hellaciously far from where I'm staying. Wish me luck!