This is my final blog post. As Fergie once said, "I'm gonna miss you like a child misses their blanket, but I got to get a move on with my life. It's time to be a big girl now...and big girls don't cry." Wow. Fergie really gets me. Not only did she understand that I was Fergilicious and that it was time for my London Bridges to be comin' down, she knows how I feel about blogs. Though I never really stayed up on them and I did not really like doing them...well I guess there really isn't an upside to that. I did enjoy the idea of self-expression and designing something was purely left to myself, but there was so much else to do, blogs usually fell to the back of the homework pile.
Anyway, enough reflections on blogs. Now, I shall reflect on smething I care much more about, Harry Potter. The final movie is just around the corner and I am really freakin excited. That is all.
It has been a good year. I was very involved in choir, theatre, and my education (sort of). I wouldn't say that this class has necessarily helped me grow that much as a writer, but as an analyst of writings, I am now much improved. When I am reading books, I notice more stylles with which the author tries to direct us down a path. I also know how to randomly write about nonsense for 1200 words. The most important thing I have learned in this class, the thing I will use through life and take to my grave is the importance of proper facial hair grooming.
Farewell, Beard...............Hello, World.
Tuesday, May 31, 2011
Summer Workin'
This whole school year, I have been blogging about work, but the thing is, work is completely different in the summer. First of all, you get to wear short sleeved shirts. My personal perspiration problem thanks Freddy's for that kind gesture. It also is much nicer for the customer when the oozing globs of sweat that run from my forehead don't drip into their food. Then, I have to say, "Sorry, I will get you a knew chicken." It is very awkward. The second thing that is different is that I obviously have more time to work. Whenever I am scheduled more, it seems like the hours can either go by faster or slower depending on how I feel. If I am in a mood to socialize in be friendly, I enjoy being at work and the time flies. If I feel like sitting in a corner by myself, night shifts are fine, but day shifts are awful. I actually have to pretend to be happy.
Another major difference between summer and school hours is that it is busier. People have more time on their hands to go to the grocery store and yell at me because I do not know where the roasted peanuts are (and who really knows where those are? Aisle 6, apparently). The night shifts are much busier on summer weekdays because children do not have to worry about waking up at 5:30 the next morning. It is nicer when it is busier because time moves faster when I am not looking at the clock every five seconds, still I do not like the awkward run-ins with people who I know but are not really my friends. Social situations while in uniform almost always result in awkwardness.
The biggest difference between summer and school hours is that I usually do not dread going to work. Since it is summer, I know there are barely any responsibilities I need to take care of before or after work which makes Freddy's that much more enjoyable. Sure, sometimes it messes with my plans, but I can usually find someone to cover a shift for me. The people of Freddy's are nice, hard-working people who have my back. Unless is there's a ten dollar bill taped to it, in which case, I would immediately start running cause the pay isn't great.
Another major difference between summer and school hours is that it is busier. People have more time on their hands to go to the grocery store and yell at me because I do not know where the roasted peanuts are (and who really knows where those are? Aisle 6, apparently). The night shifts are much busier on summer weekdays because children do not have to worry about waking up at 5:30 the next morning. It is nicer when it is busier because time moves faster when I am not looking at the clock every five seconds, still I do not like the awkward run-ins with people who I know but are not really my friends. Social situations while in uniform almost always result in awkwardness.
The biggest difference between summer and school hours is that I usually do not dread going to work. Since it is summer, I know there are barely any responsibilities I need to take care of before or after work which makes Freddy's that much more enjoyable. Sure, sometimes it messes with my plans, but I can usually find someone to cover a shift for me. The people of Freddy's are nice, hard-working people who have my back. Unless is there's a ten dollar bill taped to it, in which case, I would immediately start running cause the pay isn't great.
I Have Incredible Work Ethic
I would like to talk about long nights. Not the kind of long night where you stay up late partying until Ke$ha tells you to keep it down. I am talking about those long nights when you have a big project due the next day. I would like to take you through a timeline of what a long night looks like for me. First of all, I get home and I take a nap. It's obviously been a very tiring day. The nap lasts for about two hours so it's about five right now. Then, I decide that it's too close to dinner time to really get started on something. I wait for my parents to get home at about 5:15 and they tell me that i should just make something myself. I am extremely upset about this, so I spend the next fifteen minutes complaining about the fact that we never go out to eat anymore. Then, for another fifteen minutes I get lectured about how much money we have and I end up eating a bowl of cereal. I linger with my cereal and finally my mom tells me to quit dillydallying and go finish my homework. I scamper upstairs and start.
Here's how I start: I get on Facebook. I check my news feed to see if anything exciting or dramatic has happened in the last few hours since I have checked it. Then, I watch some of my favorite YouTube videos. If it's Friday, I will be entertained by the musical talents of Ms. Rebecca Black. Then, I write an introduction for whatever it I am writing. Then, I have done a lot of work so I decide it is time for a break. By this time it is 8:30 and I am downstairs eating a freezepop. It takes a while and Family Guy is on so I have to stay and watch the full episode. At 9:00, I start to get scared. I begin to write the main part of what I am working on. My eyelids fall closed slowly. I realize I am drifting, but I fight through the pain. Pretty soon, half of the body is done and it is...12:30. I decide that I can't do it all right now, so I am going to take two hour naps and do a part of the project after each one. I go to sleep and never wake up again. When the alarm goes off at 2:30, I decide, "I'll just turn it in late." And I do. The End.
Here's how I start: I get on Facebook. I check my news feed to see if anything exciting or dramatic has happened in the last few hours since I have checked it. Then, I watch some of my favorite YouTube videos. If it's Friday, I will be entertained by the musical talents of Ms. Rebecca Black. Then, I write an introduction for whatever it I am writing. Then, I have done a lot of work so I decide it is time for a break. By this time it is 8:30 and I am downstairs eating a freezepop. It takes a while and Family Guy is on so I have to stay and watch the full episode. At 9:00, I start to get scared. I begin to write the main part of what I am working on. My eyelids fall closed slowly. I realize I am drifting, but I fight through the pain. Pretty soon, half of the body is done and it is...12:30. I decide that I can't do it all right now, so I am going to take two hour naps and do a part of the project after each one. I go to sleep and never wake up again. When the alarm goes off at 2:30, I decide, "I'll just turn it in late." And I do. The End.
The Penultimate Year
Show choir is over. For the year! We had such a great year! This year, we received three grand champions. The amazing part is that after ten of our group members made bad choices, we still managed to win two more grand championships without them. We had our going out concert two weeks ago and it was quite emotional. We had grown extremely close as a choir and nobody wanted to see the seniors leave. At the end of going out concert, we all sang the song "Forever" which we only learned once, but it didn't matter. We all understood the message that true friends are forever and will never leave.
Anyway, now that this year's show choir season is over, it is time to look towards next year. We recently had auditions and the lists were posted the day after the choir banquet. There was a certain amount of drama when it comes to the list (as there always is), but not as much as past years, it seemed. I am very excited for next year. Based on the list, we have a very strong group of singers and dancers. Plus, I am excited to be a senior and experience all of the things that seniors got to do, such as going up on stage to accept awards.
It is not just choir that I am excited to be a senior for. In the drama department, it always seems like junior year is the year that you have to prove yourself and if you do, senior year runs pretty smoothly. I will finally be able to sit on the senior bench, but I don't think that I will have much time to do that with all of the AP tests I am taking. Senior year should be a blast and i can't wait to be top dog at the school. Still, I remember when seniors would look down on me so I am going to try and be as nice as possible to underclassmen.
I have a great junior year and I will be sad to leave high school, but it seems like senior year is the one that everyone remembers. It's the time when you make the friends you stay in contact with during college and when you decide where and what you want to go to college for. I have yet to decide if I want to do theatre in college. On one hand, I love to do it and it makes me happy, but, on the other hand, it might not provide a stable job for me. Otherwise, I will probably do something in business.
Anyway, now that this year's show choir season is over, it is time to look towards next year. We recently had auditions and the lists were posted the day after the choir banquet. There was a certain amount of drama when it comes to the list (as there always is), but not as much as past years, it seemed. I am very excited for next year. Based on the list, we have a very strong group of singers and dancers. Plus, I am excited to be a senior and experience all of the things that seniors got to do, such as going up on stage to accept awards.
It is not just choir that I am excited to be a senior for. In the drama department, it always seems like junior year is the year that you have to prove yourself and if you do, senior year runs pretty smoothly. I will finally be able to sit on the senior bench, but I don't think that I will have much time to do that with all of the AP tests I am taking. Senior year should be a blast and i can't wait to be top dog at the school. Still, I remember when seniors would look down on me so I am going to try and be as nice as possible to underclassmen.
I have a great junior year and I will be sad to leave high school, but it seems like senior year is the one that everyone remembers. It's the time when you make the friends you stay in contact with during college and when you decide where and what you want to go to college for. I have yet to decide if I want to do theatre in college. On one hand, I love to do it and it makes me happy, but, on the other hand, it might not provide a stable job for me. Otherwise, I will probably do something in business.
Diet Smiles
When you work three days in a row, your feet start to hurt. Not only your feet, but also your legs start to wobble, your tendons start to separate, and your heart cracks in two (I started to get a little bit metaphorical towards the end there). When I work three days in a row, there's only one thing that keeps me going: cruddy store-brand pop. With cruddy store-brand pop, you can find everything you need. Looking for something like Mountain Dew? Try Sassy Bubbles! It's just like Mountain Dew except with a longer aftertaste that lingers while you sleep and in the morning you smell like the immigrant worker who slaved away to make all those Sassy Bubbles.
You might also try some flavors that are simply listed as colors. You may think that Magenta is a sort of grape drink, but it's actually made from high fructose corn syrup and artificial fruit. Who knows if there's any grapes in there? Go ahead, find out! Maybe you might want to try some Yellow. It's not actually urine, but it sure does look like it!
There are also pops that are merely labeled as feelings you get when you drink them. For example, Warm is a popular favorite of mine. Not only is this pop incapable of being refrigerated but it also makes you feel all warm and fuzzy inside. If that's not your alley and you are looking for something a little bit darker, you might want to try Mellow. It's not yellow like Mellow Yellow (thank goodness, because how else would you tell them apart?). It's actually black. Made from real tar and cherry flavoring, Mellow just makes you feel like an oversized oil rig. Then there's nothing to do but lie on the couch and watch T.V.
Whatever your choice in cruddy store brand pop may be, I hope you understand that there are side effects. For example, I haven't done any homework for six months. You know when I started drinking cruddy store brand pop? Six months ago! It gets me through those long, hard days, which, as of late, has been every day. I know they aren't always the healthiest for you but who needs healthiness when you have youth?
You might also try some flavors that are simply listed as colors. You may think that Magenta is a sort of grape drink, but it's actually made from high fructose corn syrup and artificial fruit. Who knows if there's any grapes in there? Go ahead, find out! Maybe you might want to try some Yellow. It's not actually urine, but it sure does look like it!
There are also pops that are merely labeled as feelings you get when you drink them. For example, Warm is a popular favorite of mine. Not only is this pop incapable of being refrigerated but it also makes you feel all warm and fuzzy inside. If that's not your alley and you are looking for something a little bit darker, you might want to try Mellow. It's not yellow like Mellow Yellow (thank goodness, because how else would you tell them apart?). It's actually black. Made from real tar and cherry flavoring, Mellow just makes you feel like an oversized oil rig. Then there's nothing to do but lie on the couch and watch T.V.
Whatever your choice in cruddy store brand pop may be, I hope you understand that there are side effects. For example, I haven't done any homework for six months. You know when I started drinking cruddy store brand pop? Six months ago! It gets me through those long, hard days, which, as of late, has been every day. I know they aren't always the healthiest for you but who needs healthiness when you have youth?
Tuesday, April 19, 2011
Are You Urban? I'm Urban like a Turban!
As an arty, young hipster, I find myself often contemplating why i am working. I'm cool. I'm suave. I'm a gingerly stroll down a long meadow of flowers. Since my view of myself can only be taken as "urban", I took it upon myself to look up the term "work" in Urban Dictionary. Next to Wikipedia, this is where I get all of my research information. So, here it is, the first definition of work according to Urban Dictionary:
"A worldwide slave labour organisation used to control modern man and prevent independant thought from occuring in any form. This is the reason it's much harder to make anything of yourself working in creative arts, such as acting and singing - the government sees anyone more popular than them as a threat to their power. It is also an ingenious creation to make placebos such as computers and photocopiers look important to our way of life. Some may argue that the workplace is desigend to build character and learn about teamwork...others prefer to think of it as the perfect place to practise your aiming skills as you throw ball after ball of scrunched up paper into the bin in the corner, then make a little competition out of it with fellow colleagues."
Well, let's analyze this statement, shall we? The definition starts off with cleverly comparing the workforce to a slave organization. This makes complete sense because I work four shifts and slave worked all day long. I have a boss that respects me and listens to my ideas and slaves had harsh plantation owners who beat them. I get a paycheck and they got crappy food. Excellent analogy. Next, we move on to the statement about how acting and singing are hard to get jobs in because the government doesn't like people who become more famous than them. Another brilliant point. I have been working on a theory that famous people don't actually exist. They're just robots that have been created by the government to make them look better. It's nice to know that someone out there shares a similar opinion.
The next line uses some fancy words like "placebo" and "photocopiers" (Ooooohh). The overall effect of such sophisticated diction is that I believe him. I know that he isn't some fourteen year old girl writing about work. Instead, she could easily be fifteen (maybe sixteen). Guess what they do next? They address counterarguments! Wow! I hope that someday I can address the points of the opposite party by sarcastically and rudely stating that work is nothing more than throwing paper balls. Such an illuminating piece of work. Urban Dictionary is the new encyclopedia. In case you didn't catch on, I think this definition is stupid. Here's the second one:
A place where people have to go everyday to get paid. Also known as "hell".
This one I completely agree with.
"A worldwide slave labour organisation used to control modern man and prevent independant thought from occuring in any form. This is the reason it's much harder to make anything of yourself working in creative arts, such as acting and singing - the government sees anyone more popular than them as a threat to their power. It is also an ingenious creation to make placebos such as computers and photocopiers look important to our way of life. Some may argue that the workplace is desigend to build character and learn about teamwork...others prefer to think of it as the perfect place to practise your aiming skills as you throw ball after ball of scrunched up paper into the bin in the corner, then make a little competition out of it with fellow colleagues."
Well, let's analyze this statement, shall we? The definition starts off with cleverly comparing the workforce to a slave organization. This makes complete sense because I work four shifts and slave worked all day long. I have a boss that respects me and listens to my ideas and slaves had harsh plantation owners who beat them. I get a paycheck and they got crappy food. Excellent analogy. Next, we move on to the statement about how acting and singing are hard to get jobs in because the government doesn't like people who become more famous than them. Another brilliant point. I have been working on a theory that famous people don't actually exist. They're just robots that have been created by the government to make them look better. It's nice to know that someone out there shares a similar opinion.
The next line uses some fancy words like "placebo" and "photocopiers" (Ooooohh). The overall effect of such sophisticated diction is that I believe him. I know that he isn't some fourteen year old girl writing about work. Instead, she could easily be fifteen (maybe sixteen). Guess what they do next? They address counterarguments! Wow! I hope that someday I can address the points of the opposite party by sarcastically and rudely stating that work is nothing more than throwing paper balls. Such an illuminating piece of work. Urban Dictionary is the new encyclopedia. In case you didn't catch on, I think this definition is stupid. Here's the second one:
A place where people have to go everyday to get paid. Also known as "hell".
This one I completely agree with.
Friday, April 15, 2011
POOP FINGERS.
I have a friend. Let's call her Crystal-Methanie. She has been working at Freddy's for the same amount of time that I have. She complains a lot, but she is a good worker, friendly with the customers, and doesn't have TOO many piercings. Still, for some reason I am a checker and she is but a lowly courtesy bag girl. Sometimes I will ask Crystal-Methanie why she thinks she is still a courtesy. Here is her story she told me:
"I was seven years old when my grandfather first told me that I was gonna work at Freddy's. He had worked there and my grandfather's grandfather had worked there and my grandfather's grandfather's godfather had worked there. So, when I saw that they were hiring I figured this was my opportunity. Unfortunately, Grandpapa had just passed away the week before and I knew that he would be soooo proud of me for having gotten a job at Freddy's. They told me, 'Most people start off as courtesy and quickly become checkers." So, I was patient.
I washed the windows, took in the carts (even in the sleet and snow), and picked up poop off the bathroom floor. Let me tell you, once you pick up poop with your bare hands, you don't get the stain out for weeks. People look at you and go, 'There's Poop Fingers! Better hide yo' hands in yo' pockets!' Eventually, I developed the nickname Crystal-Methanie because i had turned to a life of drugs and pain. I'm not a checker yet. It may have something to do with ma' poop fingers or my drug use, but I'm pretty sure it's racial discrimination.
As a middle-class white student, the managers discriminated against me and my people. I grew up in the deep, treacherous ghettos of Beverly Hills. Then, I moved to Iowa and I thought those days were behind me. I'm thinkin' bout complainin' to Human Resources about my issue. Also, I have a complaint to make about people stealin' my lunch in the break room. I spend hours makin' my salami/peanut butter sandwiches and I don't appreciate when people steal my peanut butter. Metaphorically, peanut butter is like drugs to me. Still, I've decided to move on with my life. I will no longer pick up poop off the floor and be called 'Poop Fingers'. I will fight for women's rights and push for-"
Alright, 399 words. Good enough.
"I was seven years old when my grandfather first told me that I was gonna work at Freddy's. He had worked there and my grandfather's grandfather had worked there and my grandfather's grandfather's godfather had worked there. So, when I saw that they were hiring I figured this was my opportunity. Unfortunately, Grandpapa had just passed away the week before and I knew that he would be soooo proud of me for having gotten a job at Freddy's. They told me, 'Most people start off as courtesy and quickly become checkers." So, I was patient.
I washed the windows, took in the carts (even in the sleet and snow), and picked up poop off the bathroom floor. Let me tell you, once you pick up poop with your bare hands, you don't get the stain out for weeks. People look at you and go, 'There's Poop Fingers! Better hide yo' hands in yo' pockets!' Eventually, I developed the nickname Crystal-Methanie because i had turned to a life of drugs and pain. I'm not a checker yet. It may have something to do with ma' poop fingers or my drug use, but I'm pretty sure it's racial discrimination.
As a middle-class white student, the managers discriminated against me and my people. I grew up in the deep, treacherous ghettos of Beverly Hills. Then, I moved to Iowa and I thought those days were behind me. I'm thinkin' bout complainin' to Human Resources about my issue. Also, I have a complaint to make about people stealin' my lunch in the break room. I spend hours makin' my salami/peanut butter sandwiches and I don't appreciate when people steal my peanut butter. Metaphorically, peanut butter is like drugs to me. Still, I've decided to move on with my life. I will no longer pick up poop off the floor and be called 'Poop Fingers'. I will fight for women's rights and push for-"
Alright, 399 words. Good enough.
HermAPPY BIRTHDAY!
Happy Birthday, Emma Watson! Today is your special day, and, guess what, it's Friday! Friday! GOTTA get down on Friday! I bet you're lookin' forward to the weekend. Weekend. As we all know, Emma Watson is a character that Hermoine Granger plays in real life. Hermoine is so smart. She has tricked several people into thinking that Emma Watson is her real personality. Well played, Hermy, well played. Still, I see straight through her clever disguise. Harry Potter is real and so are all of his friends. In order to celebrate your birthday, let us take a look back at some of your finest moments.
1. Remember that time turner you used? Not only did it help you remain a top-notch AP student, but you also helped save the hyppogriff and Sirius Black. Your dedication to your schoolwork is inspiring to many and raises the standards of those who get accepted into Hogwarts.2. Wingardium leviosa? No, it's wingardium leviosAH. HAHAHA. You're so funny. You pay such attention to detail that nothing gets by you. Now that you're another year older, let's hope that eyesight doesn't fade.
3. Who could forget all of the intimate and beautiful moments that you shared with Ronald Weasley? Well, i certainly didn't. Not even Lavender Brown could break you two apart. Ain't no love like a Ron-Hermoine love because a Ron-Hermoine love don't stop.
4. I know this is a list of your finest moments, but I would just like to address that weird, sexual scene in the seventh movie between you and Harry. Nah uh, not happenin'. You and Ronald are meant to be together. You have finally found a ginger that isn't crazy or a serial killer. Hold onto him and never let him go. You can name one of your kids Harry, I don't care, just keep the touching to a minimum. Thanks.
5. You punched Draco in the face! Alright, gurl! You were overworked, tired, and annoyed outta yo' mind. So, when he let his snippy little tongue run wild, you popped one right in the kisser. Looked like it hurt. Well played, Hermoine's fists of fury, well played.
So, there's your life in a nutshell. Now that you are 21, don't go too crazy! There's only so much butterbeer in the world, start off slow.
Tuesday, April 12, 2011
There Ain't No Cursin' Durin' Rehearsin'
I am in a new musical. This production is entitled, "A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to the Forum.' And guess what! It's actually really funny. When we did our read-through in February, I hadn't expected the script to actually make me laugh as much as it did. Well played, script...well played. Anyway, the rehearsal process has been rather vigorous lately. We started off in early march learning choreography. There are a few numbers (one in particular) that have a lot of dancing in them. While it isn't the hardest stuff in the world, and dance is somewhat difficult for me. Then we did a few one-on-one vocal rehearsals and we began blocking the show.
Blocking was a monotonous process, because you need to write down everywhere you go and develop reasons for why you are moving there. I realize that it helps quite a lot to have a purpose and to know where to go and when, but at the time it felt like it was just going to change anyway. Now, though, we are in the process of focusing on more of the acting now that we have the basic foundation covered. I had a bit of trouble with memorization in the beginning, but now that we have run through everything, it is coming along quite well.
My character, Pseudelous, is a slave to one of the rich family's in Ancient Greece, the house of Senex. Senex's son, Hero, falls in love with a beautiful virgin courtesan, but she has been sold to the great captain, Miles Gloriosus. My character attempts to bring the two lovers together by weaving a twisted tale of lies and disguises. Just as the opening song says, it truly is a comedy tonight. As far as acting goes, I have decided to play my character with a bit of variety. On the page, he appears to be a witty, outspoken character, but as a slave I picture him being only outspoken to certain people. For example, he would speak to his master, Hero, with his arms folded across his body and arched over to look up at him. Whereas, when speaking to Marcus Lycus, the owner of the courtesans (who thinks that Pseudelous is free), he would stand straight and speak in a relaxed manner.
The show goes up on April 27th for the world to see. It is coming up quite fast! I am sure that we will be ready. Rehearsals have been really great for the past few weeks and the show is only getting stronger. I hope everyone enjoys it....or else.
Blocking was a monotonous process, because you need to write down everywhere you go and develop reasons for why you are moving there. I realize that it helps quite a lot to have a purpose and to know where to go and when, but at the time it felt like it was just going to change anyway. Now, though, we are in the process of focusing on more of the acting now that we have the basic foundation covered. I had a bit of trouble with memorization in the beginning, but now that we have run through everything, it is coming along quite well.
My character, Pseudelous, is a slave to one of the rich family's in Ancient Greece, the house of Senex. Senex's son, Hero, falls in love with a beautiful virgin courtesan, but she has been sold to the great captain, Miles Gloriosus. My character attempts to bring the two lovers together by weaving a twisted tale of lies and disguises. Just as the opening song says, it truly is a comedy tonight. As far as acting goes, I have decided to play my character with a bit of variety. On the page, he appears to be a witty, outspoken character, but as a slave I picture him being only outspoken to certain people. For example, he would speak to his master, Hero, with his arms folded across his body and arched over to look up at him. Whereas, when speaking to Marcus Lycus, the owner of the courtesans (who thinks that Pseudelous is free), he would stand straight and speak in a relaxed manner.
The show goes up on April 27th for the world to see. It is coming up quite fast! I am sure that we will be ready. Rehearsals have been really great for the past few weeks and the show is only getting stronger. I hope everyone enjoys it....or else.
For Every Jim/Pam, there is a Grandma/Rudolph
Some people call me a sea urchin of desire. I'm not sure why but I am pretty sure it had something to do with my dashing good looks, incredible talent, and my amazing ability to woo my prey with a toss of the hair. Now, I know you are thinking, who is this Justin Beiber-like character and why is he telling me all of these outstanding things about himself. He's so cool! I wish I were as nice, funny, and charming as he is! Well, that's what I am here to address. To all those that pine over me, you should know that I will not accept you as a blossoming romance if we work together. Office relationships are the quickest way to having your heart broken, a pie in your face, and twelve laughing girls pointing their snooty fingernails at you saying, "You should quit!"
That's the first thing about sweet, sweet love in the workplace. It will get you fired or force you to quit. My grandma said she once worked with a man at a local farmer's market. They would work real close together and one day they were suddenly an item. When my grandma found out that her boyfriend, Randolph, had also been seeing Margaret, Jan, and Phillice, well....let's just say Randolph was the one who got run over by Grandma that Christmas eve. Anyway, the point is that my grandma felt she had to quit because she couldn't handle being around Randolph (who has, personally, never been one of my favorite reindeer of the sleigh). Another big possibility is being fired. Let's say your girlfriend, Liza, is actually a prostitute and you find out during the middle of shift. You are going to walk right up to Liza and ask, "Are you a prostitute?" Well, it turns out that she wasn't a prostitute. That was Lisa. Well, Liza responds by hitting you repeatedly with the statue of Jesus she keeps in her purse. Your manager witnesses this commotion and promptly fires both of you. Soon, you become a prostitute to pay the bills.
There are just two simple results of office romances: quitting or being fired. Not everyone turns out like Jim and Pam from 'The Office". Instead, you could end up like Kevin or Creed (alone and creepy). Although I love my Kevin coffee mug, I wouldn't consider his life a road I would be willing to go down. Heed thine warning, mortals! If you do not obey the law of never having an office relationship, you will be cursed forever to listen to Rebecca Black's "Friday" for the rest of your lives!
That's the first thing about sweet, sweet love in the workplace. It will get you fired or force you to quit. My grandma said she once worked with a man at a local farmer's market. They would work real close together and one day they were suddenly an item. When my grandma found out that her boyfriend, Randolph, had also been seeing Margaret, Jan, and Phillice, well....let's just say Randolph was the one who got run over by Grandma that Christmas eve. Anyway, the point is that my grandma felt she had to quit because she couldn't handle being around Randolph (who has, personally, never been one of my favorite reindeer of the sleigh). Another big possibility is being fired. Let's say your girlfriend, Liza, is actually a prostitute and you find out during the middle of shift. You are going to walk right up to Liza and ask, "Are you a prostitute?" Well, it turns out that she wasn't a prostitute. That was Lisa. Well, Liza responds by hitting you repeatedly with the statue of Jesus she keeps in her purse. Your manager witnesses this commotion and promptly fires both of you. Soon, you become a prostitute to pay the bills.
There are just two simple results of office romances: quitting or being fired. Not everyone turns out like Jim and Pam from 'The Office". Instead, you could end up like Kevin or Creed (alone and creepy). Although I love my Kevin coffee mug, I wouldn't consider his life a road I would be willing to go down. Heed thine warning, mortals! If you do not obey the law of never having an office relationship, you will be cursed forever to listen to Rebecca Black's "Friday" for the rest of your lives!
Monday, April 4, 2011
How to Succeed at Hogwarts Without Using Unforgivable Curses
I saw him. I was so close to him that had he spit in an upwards direction and there had been a good, solid wind, his loogie would have hit me in the face. He was everything I had ever dreamed of. He was epic. He was magical. He was...short. He was HARRY POTTER. I can feel the jealousy of anyone who reads this seeping through the blog. I would be jealous, too, had it been someone other than myself. What is strange is that I didn't run into him at Hogwarts, or spy him at Diagon Alley, or even catch the same train at Platform 9.75, instead, I saw him in a Broadway musical. Harry Potter was playing Daniel Radcliffe playing J. Pierrepont Finch in "How to Succeed in Business Without Really Trying."The musical was great. Harry Potter, though he didn't have the greatest voice, acted the piece beautifully and was hilarious. The most impressive part, to me, was the company. Their dancing was spot on and whenever singing was required, they always sounded full and supported. Still, most of the time I found it difficult to unglue my eyes from the tiny, little magic man on stage. Dumbledore would have been so proud if he could have seen this moment.
The most disappointing part came once the show was over. The standing ovation had died down and people had begun to pile out into the streets. Outside, a van had been blocked off and everyone knew it was Harry Potter's. We waited patiently on the other side of the street and refused to leave until a glimpse of the Boy Wonder was achieved. Eventually, a bus pulled up and parked itself firmly in our way. Despite our loud chants of, "Move that bus!" it didn't move for quite some time. We had to leave. Our efforts were noble and courageous, but unfortunately no one got to meet him. Still, I will always remember that day as the day I saw the greatest boy-wizard of all-time.
These Eagles bear a Striking Resemblance to the Simpsons
These last few days have been somewhat hectic. With work, the musical, and homework, I am a little bit low on my recreational requirements. So, for entertainment, what do I do? I grab a bowl of popcorn and I creep on some eagles. A pair of eagles has nested in Decorah, IA and let me tell you, it has been quite exciting. Even now, I watch as the mother guards her egg from invaders. There used to be three eggs, but the miracle of life has worked its magic on two of them already.
From what I have observed, the father and mother have a very...complicated...relationship. Margaret (the name I have given the mother, sometime shortened to Marge) is very good at sitting down. Not only is the form that she uses excellent (a series of complicated shuffles and shimmies), but she also manages to stay graceful even in the most mundane of moments. Homer (the father), on the other hand, seems to be somewhat of the opposite. An old, indecisive bird, Homer can leave the nest for hours at a time and return later with nothing but a dead, bloody rat. What was he doing all that time? Hmm? Homer wasn't even there when his own children were born (Bart and Lisa). Their births were magical. Sure, Marge blocked most of the hatching with her big butt, but we still got to see the finished product. On the way is another baby eaglet i assume will be named Maggie.
The eagles are apparently being observed as something referred to as the Raptor Resource. Hopefully the title of the initiative doesn't reveal true Jurassic Park-tendencies. The live feed I am watching right now comes directly from their website. The camera is a little fuzzy and every gust of wind sounds like a shattering earthquake, but the birds are clearly visible. If you like a good nature show or a bit of family drama, I suggest checking it out.
Website: http://www.raptorresource.org/falcon_cams/index.html
From what I have observed, the father and mother have a very...complicated...relationship. Margaret (the name I have given the mother, sometime shortened to Marge) is very good at sitting down. Not only is the form that she uses excellent (a series of complicated shuffles and shimmies), but she also manages to stay graceful even in the most mundane of moments. Homer (the father), on the other hand, seems to be somewhat of the opposite. An old, indecisive bird, Homer can leave the nest for hours at a time and return later with nothing but a dead, bloody rat. What was he doing all that time? Hmm? Homer wasn't even there when his own children were born (Bart and Lisa). Their births were magical. Sure, Marge blocked most of the hatching with her big butt, but we still got to see the finished product. On the way is another baby eaglet i assume will be named Maggie.
The eagles are apparently being observed as something referred to as the Raptor Resource. Hopefully the title of the initiative doesn't reveal true Jurassic Park-tendencies. The live feed I am watching right now comes directly from their website. The camera is a little fuzzy and every gust of wind sounds like a shattering earthquake, but the birds are clearly visible. If you like a good nature show or a bit of family drama, I suggest checking it out.
Website: http://www.raptorresource.org/falcon_cams/index.html
Wednesday, March 30, 2011
The Name's Shaney.....SlimShaney...
Night is a lonely period. Filled with smokers and binge drinkers, I often find that the store is a peaceful place where I can be alone with my thoughts and the cash register. Sometimes, when I am working nights I will think to myself, "What would happen if I was the only person in the store when something devastating happened?" Here's the story I concocted:
SlimShaney was an artsy, good looking kid who had grown up on the streets of Redar Capids (I've obviously changed the city to protect my identity). Five years ago, he had been recruited by the FBI and trained in all things martial arts related. He could count on seven hands the number of people he's killed if each of his seven hands had seven fingers because of a birth defect. Sadly, he didn't have seven hands with seven fingers each, so he had to settle for counting the number in his head. He had run off from the FBI two years ago and was now working in a local grocery store called Freddy's. No one had ever found him....until now.
It was a quiet, dark night and the wind hissed like an angry cat who had just been dropped in a bucket of water. A man walked into the store wearing a black trenchcoat and dark hat that covered his eyes. He immediately went to SlimShaney's register and grabbed some gum. "This all for ya' tonight, sir?" Slimshaney asked with the politeness of three hundred British butlers. "I guess there's one more thing you could do for me....you could DIE!" The man pulled out a machine gun from his oversized trenchcoat and fired away at SlimShaney, but he was too fast. SS threw the gum straight at the man's eye and ran for customer service. The assassin grasped at his eye in agony. "Butt-Whooping to Customer Service please," SS called out over the intercom.
Luckily, there was a bag of flour in the Go-Back section. SS took the flour and threw it everywhere. He ran straight for the man who was trying to kill him. How brave! The next five minutes, the two men engaged in an intense karate battle that could have been featured in some sort of Jackie Chan vs. Godzilla battle movie. Eventually, they ended up in aisle five (the one with all the cereal). The two exchanged puns like world-class punmakers. "I'm gonna Crunch-a-Tize you, captain! I'm more than good....I'm great! They're always after me lucky arms!" Making their way into the parking lot, SS grabbed a cart and pushed it around the white lines. The assassin had obviously been in this situation before, because he pushed his cart like an expert. Still, SS being 8-time employee of the month knew his way around the parking lot. He cornered the man next to the salt bags. There, SlimShaney had placed a bomb in case anything like this ever happened. The assassin was startled when SS began running away from the salt bags and took a moment to bask in his glory. SS had just enough time for one witty pun: "Salt and Pepper? More like Salt and Bombs." Not his best one, but it worked. The bags of slat exploded in a fiery-
Then it was ten. My shift was over. I left.
SlimShaney was an artsy, good looking kid who had grown up on the streets of Redar Capids (I've obviously changed the city to protect my identity). Five years ago, he had been recruited by the FBI and trained in all things martial arts related. He could count on seven hands the number of people he's killed if each of his seven hands had seven fingers because of a birth defect. Sadly, he didn't have seven hands with seven fingers each, so he had to settle for counting the number in his head. He had run off from the FBI two years ago and was now working in a local grocery store called Freddy's. No one had ever found him....until now.
It was a quiet, dark night and the wind hissed like an angry cat who had just been dropped in a bucket of water. A man walked into the store wearing a black trenchcoat and dark hat that covered his eyes. He immediately went to SlimShaney's register and grabbed some gum. "This all for ya' tonight, sir?" Slimshaney asked with the politeness of three hundred British butlers. "I guess there's one more thing you could do for me....you could DIE!" The man pulled out a machine gun from his oversized trenchcoat and fired away at SlimShaney, but he was too fast. SS threw the gum straight at the man's eye and ran for customer service. The assassin grasped at his eye in agony. "Butt-Whooping to Customer Service please," SS called out over the intercom.
Luckily, there was a bag of flour in the Go-Back section. SS took the flour and threw it everywhere. He ran straight for the man who was trying to kill him. How brave! The next five minutes, the two men engaged in an intense karate battle that could have been featured in some sort of Jackie Chan vs. Godzilla battle movie. Eventually, they ended up in aisle five (the one with all the cereal). The two exchanged puns like world-class punmakers. "I'm gonna Crunch-a-Tize you, captain! I'm more than good....I'm great! They're always after me lucky arms!" Making their way into the parking lot, SS grabbed a cart and pushed it around the white lines. The assassin had obviously been in this situation before, because he pushed his cart like an expert. Still, SS being 8-time employee of the month knew his way around the parking lot. He cornered the man next to the salt bags. There, SlimShaney had placed a bomb in case anything like this ever happened. The assassin was startled when SS began running away from the salt bags and took a moment to bask in his glory. SS had just enough time for one witty pun: "Salt and Pepper? More like Salt and Bombs." Not his best one, but it worked. The bags of slat exploded in a fiery-
Then it was ten. My shift was over. I left.
How I Learned that Beards are Stupid...
Three beards for the three homeless men that live under the bridge.
Seven for the struggling writers who seem to be writing their dissertations for quite a long time...
Nine for the Mortal Men who think beards make them look "cool" and "sophisticated.
One for He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named and his snake.
In the land of No-Shaving where the five o'clock shadows lie.
One beard to rule them all. One beard to find them.
One beard to grow forever and in the morning, shave them.
In theLand of Hogwarts
This beard belongs to a man of pure beauty. A man who defies boundaries and pushes limits. A man that doesn't have to prove himself. This man is none other than the great Albus Dumbledore. His flowing, luxurious white beard hangs down from his face like a monkey hangs gracefully from a tree branch (except, in this case, Dumbledore's beard is well picked and free of bugs).
I, SlimShaney, once tried to grow out a beard. It was....unsuccessful. I figured that I would grow out a goatee. Once it had grown long enough, I noticed that goats were following me everywhere! I tried to run, but their leader, Ba-Ba Black Goat, cornered me in a dark alleyway. He told me, if I didn't shave off my goatee, they would have to do it for me. I panicked. What was I to do? I couldn't shave off my goatee! I loved it! So, I did the only thing I could think of, I used magic. I cast a spell that made my beard invisible to the human/goat eye. The next day, the goats came to my house. "Where's your beard?" said Ba-Ba Black Goat. "I shaved it off. I'm done with facial hair." They didn't believe me. Black Goat grabbed my face and felt that I still had my goatee. He ran to the kitchen and grabbed my mother. He put his mouth up to her neck and said, "If you don't shave off that beard, I'm going to bite her. Rabies ain't somethin' you wanna mess with, kid." Again, I did the only thing I knew how to do. I pulled out my wand, cast a deadly spell, and suddenly, guts were flying everywhere! I narrowly dodged the tongue of one of the goats as it raced past my head. My mother was soaked in goat blood. We embraced in our slimy, putrid clothes and began to collect the shattered remains of the goats I had killed. That night, as we sat around the table, thinking about what had happened, I asked my mom, "Do you like my goatee?" She merely shoved some goat meat in her mouth and said, "No."
And that is why beards are stupid.
Seven for the struggling writers who seem to be writing their dissertations for quite a long time...
Nine for the Mortal Men who think beards make them look "cool" and "sophisticated.
One for He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named and his snake.
In the land of No-Shaving where the five o'clock shadows lie.
One beard to rule them all. One beard to find them.
One beard to grow forever and in the morning, shave them.
In the
This beard belongs to a man of pure beauty. A man who defies boundaries and pushes limits. A man that doesn't have to prove himself. This man is none other than the great Albus Dumbledore. His flowing, luxurious white beard hangs down from his face like a monkey hangs gracefully from a tree branch (except, in this case, Dumbledore's beard is well picked and free of bugs).
I, SlimShaney, once tried to grow out a beard. It was....unsuccessful. I figured that I would grow out a goatee. Once it had grown long enough, I noticed that goats were following me everywhere! I tried to run, but their leader, Ba-Ba Black Goat, cornered me in a dark alleyway. He told me, if I didn't shave off my goatee, they would have to do it for me. I panicked. What was I to do? I couldn't shave off my goatee! I loved it! So, I did the only thing I could think of, I used magic. I cast a spell that made my beard invisible to the human/goat eye. The next day, the goats came to my house. "Where's your beard?" said Ba-Ba Black Goat. "I shaved it off. I'm done with facial hair." They didn't believe me. Black Goat grabbed my face and felt that I still had my goatee. He ran to the kitchen and grabbed my mother. He put his mouth up to her neck and said, "If you don't shave off that beard, I'm going to bite her. Rabies ain't somethin' you wanna mess with, kid." Again, I did the only thing I knew how to do. I pulled out my wand, cast a deadly spell, and suddenly, guts were flying everywhere! I narrowly dodged the tongue of one of the goats as it raced past my head. My mother was soaked in goat blood. We embraced in our slimy, putrid clothes and began to collect the shattered remains of the goats I had killed. That night, as we sat around the table, thinking about what had happened, I asked my mom, "Do you like my goatee?" She merely shoved some goat meat in her mouth and said, "No."
And that is why beards are stupid.
Wednesday, March 9, 2011
I Don't Care if She Wears Adult Diapers....She's Beautiful...
It's happened. My life is complete. I can die in peace because finally, I am loved. An old woman at Freddy's told me today that I am a very attractive boy. YES! Too long have I waited in the shadows behind the more attractive male workers of Freddy's! Too long have my charming good looks escaped the eyes of the Grannies that crawl through our store! Too long have I pondered the reason these cranky shrews refuse to recognize my beauty! I am beautiful! I am strong! I am a very attractive boy! YAY!
Let me tell you a story. One day, quite a while ago, when I was still a lowly bagger, A woman came through my line. She reminded me of my own grandma without the can of Pringles in one hand and the cigarette in the other. The woman slowly put her groceries on the conveyor belt with the precision of an elephant dropping apples on the ground. She took one look at the male cashier who was working and said, "Oh my! You're a very handsome boy!" For the next five minutes she continued to flirt with this obviously underage boy. "Alright, Mrs. Robinson, let's keep it moving," I thought to myself. Still, I couldn't help but wonder about what this woman might say to me. Granted, I was younger than the cashier and my muscles looked twig-like compared with his, but I have a nice-looking face. It's nothing extraordinarily special, but I felt confident the woman would at least feel obliged to say, "Oh! Two handsome men in one aisle? It must be my lucky day!" Instead, once she unglued her eyes from the boy who gave her the receipt, she proceeded to look at me, scan me over, and say, "Paper bags, please." I crushed her eggs. On purpose.
So, now you know why I was so excited to be loved by this lovely, old woman. What makes it even better is that this woman was older than the one who had scarred me. If that nasty wrinkle-bag had been a cougar, then my admirer must have been at least a cheetah or one of the older cats in the animal kingdom. Therefore, I win. I should enter a contest where old ladies choose the suitor they would like. It will be the next hit reality show. So long, Bachelor, hello, Cougarette or The Amazing Race....To the Grave (I couldn't choose between the two titles. They're both so catchy).
Let me tell you a story. One day, quite a while ago, when I was still a lowly bagger, A woman came through my line. She reminded me of my own grandma without the can of Pringles in one hand and the cigarette in the other. The woman slowly put her groceries on the conveyor belt with the precision of an elephant dropping apples on the ground. She took one look at the male cashier who was working and said, "Oh my! You're a very handsome boy!" For the next five minutes she continued to flirt with this obviously underage boy. "Alright, Mrs. Robinson, let's keep it moving," I thought to myself. Still, I couldn't help but wonder about what this woman might say to me. Granted, I was younger than the cashier and my muscles looked twig-like compared with his, but I have a nice-looking face. It's nothing extraordinarily special, but I felt confident the woman would at least feel obliged to say, "Oh! Two handsome men in one aisle? It must be my lucky day!" Instead, once she unglued her eyes from the boy who gave her the receipt, she proceeded to look at me, scan me over, and say, "Paper bags, please." I crushed her eggs. On purpose.
So, now you know why I was so excited to be loved by this lovely, old woman. What makes it even better is that this woman was older than the one who had scarred me. If that nasty wrinkle-bag had been a cougar, then my admirer must have been at least a cheetah or one of the older cats in the animal kingdom. Therefore, I win. I should enter a contest where old ladies choose the suitor they would like. It will be the next hit reality show. So long, Bachelor, hello, Cougarette or The Amazing Race....To the Grave (I couldn't choose between the two titles. They're both so catchy).
Monday, January 17, 2011
Cheetos
On Saturday, our show choir season began. It was the most exciting experience ever. Let me tell you how it went down. First, we arrived early in the morning so that we could all watch our freshman group perform. They did a good job (it was their first competition so I wasn't really expecting a lot, but they actually sang and danced very well). Next, we watched our prep group perform and they were awesome! I had watched several groups before them and, to me; they were the only ones that really blew me away. The sound system that the competition used was very effective and caught their sound extremely well. It was obvious after watching the prep groups that they would take home Grand Champion.
Finally, at 3:20, it was our turn to perform. During the warm up, our director talked about how well our prep group had done in laying the path for our school. All we had to do now was walk down it. Everyone could feel it when we were warming up that it was going to be a great show. Once I got on stage and heard the roar of the crowd before us, I couldn't help but be ecstatic. Our first two songs were great. You could tell that the audience really enjoyed them and everything went smoothly (except I always have a minor problem with my dance partner's dress tear-off). Then, we got to our ballad. In our ballad we constantly work up to this big climax of the song. During that time, there is a beautiful solo from one of our guys. On the last chord, the applause was just amazing and by the time the song was over, everyone was on their feet. Tears almost started to fall from my face, I was so happy. The rest of the show went great, even though we lost a little bit of energy in the closer.
I want to describe the other schools, but in the interest of my own safety, I will change their names. At this competition, the two greatest schools in terms of competition were Fritos and Doritos. Fritos is a school in our town that was very good last year. They won several competitions last year, but it was rumored that they went to a lot of easy competitions. Doritos is the best. Last year, they went undefeated, because their show was just incredible. After day rounds, we were in second! We were ahead of Fritos and behind Doritos. Everyone was pumped. We hoped that maybe we would be the group that finally beat Doritos. Our finals performance was good. Personally, I thought it was weaker than the day show, but our director thought it was brilliant.
In the end, we ended up maintaining our first runner-up status. Would we have loved to get first? Yes, but we got second! And we beat Fritos! It was amazing and I can just tell that this is going to be a great season. We are Cheetos!
Finally, at 3:20, it was our turn to perform. During the warm up, our director talked about how well our prep group had done in laying the path for our school. All we had to do now was walk down it. Everyone could feel it when we were warming up that it was going to be a great show. Once I got on stage and heard the roar of the crowd before us, I couldn't help but be ecstatic. Our first two songs were great. You could tell that the audience really enjoyed them and everything went smoothly (except I always have a minor problem with my dance partner's dress tear-off). Then, we got to our ballad. In our ballad we constantly work up to this big climax of the song. During that time, there is a beautiful solo from one of our guys. On the last chord, the applause was just amazing and by the time the song was over, everyone was on their feet. Tears almost started to fall from my face, I was so happy. The rest of the show went great, even though we lost a little bit of energy in the closer.
I want to describe the other schools, but in the interest of my own safety, I will change their names. At this competition, the two greatest schools in terms of competition were Fritos and Doritos. Fritos is a school in our town that was very good last year. They won several competitions last year, but it was rumored that they went to a lot of easy competitions. Doritos is the best. Last year, they went undefeated, because their show was just incredible. After day rounds, we were in second! We were ahead of Fritos and behind Doritos. Everyone was pumped. We hoped that maybe we would be the group that finally beat Doritos. Our finals performance was good. Personally, I thought it was weaker than the day show, but our director thought it was brilliant.
In the end, we ended up maintaining our first runner-up status. Would we have loved to get first? Yes, but we got second! And we beat Fritos! It was amazing and I can just tell that this is going to be a great season. We are Cheetos!
Not Everything is Exciting in Slow Motion
At work, there are certain types of people that you hope will not come through your line. They are the ones that terrorize you in a way that is only imaginable in James Bond movies. When they come through your line, your heart doesn't beat faster, they actually have the ability to make it move slower (eventually you might die from lack of blood circulation). Most people know that they should avoid this type of behavior, but others feel it is their right as the customer. They are: slow people.
I hate slow people. First, they come through your line with a wide variety of assorted groceries. Then, they place them each on the conveyor belt one by one until they have been properly sorted. This way, I, the unreliable checker, will not somehow put her eggs under her 20 pound turkey (like I haven't had weeks of training for that). Next, when I scan their groceries, we find out that they did not get a price on the almonds in the Organic section. So, I call over a manager and ask her to kindly go check it out. Then comes the awkward silence. I realize I should be an expert at silences, but I do not want to risk any of his/her slowness rubbing off on me. Once the manager returns, I scan through everything and it is time to pay.
Paying is the worst. If they pay with a check, I have to stand there and watch them find the checkbook in their purse, search for a pen (before I eventually give them one), write the check incorrectly, I correct them, write the check correctly, look it over for thirty seconds, and hand it to me. By then my arms have fallen off so I have to use my mouth to put it into the machine. If they pay by credit card, I have to explain everything. "Scan it this way. No, the other way. Nope, that's the same way. Try a little bit faster. Now, move a little slower. Try going down instead of up. Just give it to me. There, perfect. Congratulations on your ability to do nothing in such a long period of time."
I love stopping to smell the roses as much as the next person, but not at work. Society is a fast-paced dog-eat-dog world and if you just leisurely stroll your way through it, I am going to take the cane you are using and chase you down the hallway. Maybe, then you will realize how fast you can truly be.
I hate slow people. First, they come through your line with a wide variety of assorted groceries. Then, they place them each on the conveyor belt one by one until they have been properly sorted. This way, I, the unreliable checker, will not somehow put her eggs under her 20 pound turkey (like I haven't had weeks of training for that). Next, when I scan their groceries, we find out that they did not get a price on the almonds in the Organic section. So, I call over a manager and ask her to kindly go check it out. Then comes the awkward silence. I realize I should be an expert at silences, but I do not want to risk any of his/her slowness rubbing off on me. Once the manager returns, I scan through everything and it is time to pay.
Paying is the worst. If they pay with a check, I have to stand there and watch them find the checkbook in their purse, search for a pen (before I eventually give them one), write the check incorrectly, I correct them, write the check correctly, look it over for thirty seconds, and hand it to me. By then my arms have fallen off so I have to use my mouth to put it into the machine. If they pay by credit card, I have to explain everything. "Scan it this way. No, the other way. Nope, that's the same way. Try a little bit faster. Now, move a little slower. Try going down instead of up. Just give it to me. There, perfect. Congratulations on your ability to do nothing in such a long period of time."
I love stopping to smell the roses as much as the next person, but not at work. Society is a fast-paced dog-eat-dog world and if you just leisurely stroll your way through it, I am going to take the cane you are using and chase you down the hallway. Maybe, then you will realize how fast you can truly be.
Tuesday, January 11, 2011
Awkward Smiley Face : l
Awkward silences. They are pretty uncomfortable. For example, you might be working and you ask, "How's your day going?" and they respond with, "Well, I lost my job because I'm an alcoholic and my kids for the same reason. My own dog won't even look at me. Instead of barking like the rest of the dogs, mine just goes, 'Failure...Failure...'." The awkward silence that proceeds after that conversation would be quite catastrophic.
So, here are my friendly tips on how to stop awkward silences:
1) Try to have some handy conversation starters to get you going. Remember that the best way to a man's heart is through his stomach and the best way to a woman's is to talk about laundry (that second part might be a bit stereotypical but still accepted by most people).
2) Once things start to get depressing make sure to bring up rainbows. If someone says, "How much do I owe you? I probably can't pay it because my landlord just kicked me out for not being able pay the bills but I guess I can-" you can always chime in with a, "You know, I saw a rainbow today. One of the colors was the exact pure shade or your eyes." And when they say their eyes are brown, you will have a chance to bring up color-blindness as another point of conversation.
3) If you don't want to be the one to say anything, try direct eye contact. Eventually, they will feel pressured into saying something like, "Why are you staring at me, freak?" This way, they will not be thinking about how awkward the silence is. Instead, they will be thinking about the awkward person staring at them. Everyone wins.
Personally, I think that the science behind awkward silences should be taught in schools. Right next to chemistry, it would be one of the most rapidly growing fields in the nation. We could do research on how the body reacts to creepy people or the amount of tears that come out of a person when they hear bad news. I would be able to find out which ones of my bad jokes might actually make people giggle instead of just randomly typing them out. The untapped power of the awkward silence is the key to a new revolutionary breakthrough in modern technology. Save the awkward silence, save the world (that was Heroes reference, thank you).
So, here are my friendly tips on how to stop awkward silences:
1) Try to have some handy conversation starters to get you going. Remember that the best way to a man's heart is through his stomach and the best way to a woman's is to talk about laundry (that second part might be a bit stereotypical but still accepted by most people).
2) Once things start to get depressing make sure to bring up rainbows. If someone says, "How much do I owe you? I probably can't pay it because my landlord just kicked me out for not being able pay the bills but I guess I can-" you can always chime in with a, "You know, I saw a rainbow today. One of the colors was the exact pure shade or your eyes." And when they say their eyes are brown, you will have a chance to bring up color-blindness as another point of conversation.
3) If you don't want to be the one to say anything, try direct eye contact. Eventually, they will feel pressured into saying something like, "Why are you staring at me, freak?" This way, they will not be thinking about how awkward the silence is. Instead, they will be thinking about the awkward person staring at them. Everyone wins.
Personally, I think that the science behind awkward silences should be taught in schools. Right next to chemistry, it would be one of the most rapidly growing fields in the nation. We could do research on how the body reacts to creepy people or the amount of tears that come out of a person when they hear bad news. I would be able to find out which ones of my bad jokes might actually make people giggle instead of just randomly typing them out. The untapped power of the awkward silence is the key to a new revolutionary breakthrough in modern technology. Save the awkward silence, save the world (that was Heroes reference, thank you).
Me vs. It
Public bathrooms are disgusting. Back in the olden day when I was not a checker at Freddy's I would have to clean bathrooms every night. You would not believe what some people are capable of. One night, I opened the door to the bathroom, pushed my vacuum inside, and dropped it. I didn't even notice because I was too busy staring at the wreckage. It looked like a small rock concert had taken place with all of the stuff on the floor and random objects and liquids on the walls. Still, I was trooper and I cleaned it up. Did I actually clean the toilets off the way i was supposed to? Not quite, but I did it.
My main story comes next. One night, I was putting baskets away when the manager comes up to me. "Do you have a strong stomach?" she asked. Flustered, I told her, "Yeah, I guess so. Why?" "Well, we have a bit of a problem in the bathroom. If you could go take care of it that would be great. Thank you very much! Oh and it's the women's bathroom!" I walked away confused and wondering what this big mystery was. I waited outside the women's bathroom for everyone to be done and then propped the door open with a garbage can so they would know that I was in there. I looked around and it was fairly clean. There was nothing on the walls and the mirrors looked like they had already been cleaned off (I may have taken a moment to take in the insurmountable beauty that was my reflection). Then, I started scanning the stalls. I opened the first door and it was fine. It may have been a little low on toilet paper, but still it passed. The second stall was fine, too. And then, when I opened the door to the third stall....THE HORROR.
There, on the floor right next to the toilet bowl was....it. It seemed to be staring at me as if to say, "That's right. Pick me up...if you dare." Immediately my response was girlish shriek and a very manly, "EEEWWW!" I took a step back and then a step forward. A step back and then forward. Back. Forward. Back. Forward. Finally, I collected myself and thought, "SlimShaney, you are a big man. You can stand up to it and be the boss. Be the boss!" So, I took my newfound strength, found some gloves, wrapped some paper towels around them and picked it up.
My main story comes next. One night, I was putting baskets away when the manager comes up to me. "Do you have a strong stomach?" she asked. Flustered, I told her, "Yeah, I guess so. Why?" "Well, we have a bit of a problem in the bathroom. If you could go take care of it that would be great. Thank you very much! Oh and it's the women's bathroom!" I walked away confused and wondering what this big mystery was. I waited outside the women's bathroom for everyone to be done and then propped the door open with a garbage can so they would know that I was in there. I looked around and it was fairly clean. There was nothing on the walls and the mirrors looked like they had already been cleaned off (I may have taken a moment to take in the insurmountable beauty that was my reflection). Then, I started scanning the stalls. I opened the first door and it was fine. It may have been a little low on toilet paper, but still it passed. The second stall was fine, too. And then, when I opened the door to the third stall....THE HORROR.
There, on the floor right next to the toilet bowl was....it. It seemed to be staring at me as if to say, "That's right. Pick me up...if you dare." Immediately my response was girlish shriek and a very manly, "EEEWWW!" I took a step back and then a step forward. A step back and then forward. Back. Forward. Back. Forward. Finally, I collected myself and thought, "SlimShaney, you are a big man. You can stand up to it and be the boss. Be the boss!" So, I took my newfound strength, found some gloves, wrapped some paper towels around them and picked it up.
Big Randy and Sandra Sittin' in a Tree....
At Freddy's, depending on how long you are working, you get an approximate break time. So, if I am working for six hours I will get a 20 minute break. Well, since we seem to be talking so much about food in class, lately, I figured that I should talk about appropriate break food. First of all, stay away from fruits and vegetables. They are expensive! It is much cheaper to just by a whole pack of Twinkies instead of one banana. Remember, grease is good. The greasier an item is, the better. Whenever a whole, cooked pizza comes through my line I go, "Watch out! This smells so good I might just steal it from you!.........but seriously, give it to me." Alright, maybe I don't say the last part, but it's something like that.
Next, after you have selected your sugary, tooth-rotting poison, you get to the break room. Observe your seating possibilities. You could choose to sit next to Big Randy, the overweight dishwasher, but you remember the last time when Randy tried to swipe all of your green M&M's. You do not want another competition to go down because last time you ended up with your head in the toilet and no M&M's at all. Try sitting next to Sandra, the newly widowed woman who works in the bakery. Never mind, Sandra just pulled out the pictures in her wallet and started weeping again. Just sit in the corner with the kid who talks to himself. At least he is too busy to talk to you.
Now, do not eat too fast. Once you take your first couple of bites, you establish the rhythm at which you eat. You do not want to go over your allotted break schedule, because last time you had to scrape the previously chewed gum off of the back of each cart. That's a lot of carts...and a lot of gum. Try taking big bites, but between each one count to 5 Mississippi. If it is a fairly large item, like a birthday cake (you really have to plan ahead for that one) you might want to give some to Big Randy or Sandra. Hey, maybe you could start a little office romance between the two of them.
Next time you go on break, remember these helpful tips. Otherwise, you might end up like Big Randy and Sandra who aren't quite ready for love yet.
Next, after you have selected your sugary, tooth-rotting poison, you get to the break room. Observe your seating possibilities. You could choose to sit next to Big Randy, the overweight dishwasher, but you remember the last time when Randy tried to swipe all of your green M&M's. You do not want another competition to go down because last time you ended up with your head in the toilet and no M&M's at all. Try sitting next to Sandra, the newly widowed woman who works in the bakery. Never mind, Sandra just pulled out the pictures in her wallet and started weeping again. Just sit in the corner with the kid who talks to himself. At least he is too busy to talk to you.
Now, do not eat too fast. Once you take your first couple of bites, you establish the rhythm at which you eat. You do not want to go over your allotted break schedule, because last time you had to scrape the previously chewed gum off of the back of each cart. That's a lot of carts...and a lot of gum. Try taking big bites, but between each one count to 5 Mississippi. If it is a fairly large item, like a birthday cake (you really have to plan ahead for that one) you might want to give some to Big Randy or Sandra. Hey, maybe you could start a little office romance between the two of them.
Next time you go on break, remember these helpful tips. Otherwise, you might end up like Big Randy and Sandra who aren't quite ready for love yet.
Sunday, January 9, 2011
Things are "Heating" Up!
Show choir season is almost upon us. Next Saturday, my show choir, the Sizzles (obviously I had to change the name, but I couldn't think of anything that clever....plus I am kind of hungry for some fajitas), will be attending our first competition this year. We are all extremely excited and not only want to perform our show but see other schools, as well. We have put so much effort into this year. We had to change our whole closer costume (based upon the requests of some disgruntled choir members). We had one of the best coaches in the world to our school to do a clinic with us. We have practiced for hours and hours getting pitches correct, clean choreography, the right tone, and spot-on facials. The world of show choir is much like that of a military base only much easier.
The main thing that we are nervous about for Saturday is simply that all of the pieces of our show will come together perfectly. The show involves a lot of help from not just the performers, but also the crew and band. Thankfully, we are lucky to have a great crew and a very talented combo. Still, what if a shoe goes flying? What if I trip and fall and bring two people down with me? What if my smile is too perfect? (Okay, that last one probably isn't going to happen, but I can dream) To most people surprise, show choir is taken very seriously. Although I like the show Glee, I feel that it sometimes lacks the competitiveness of real show choir and the age-old rivalries between schools.
The Sizzles have always had a good name when it comes to show choir. Some people say, "Oh boy! It's the Sizzles! They are on fire!" Sure, it doesn't have the same witty pun with the actual name, but I think my point has been proven. We all hope that we can live up to the name that surrounds us and not let the flame burn out (again, I am just on a roll with these fire puns). Still whether we win or lose, I think that we all know that we have prepared ourselves the best way that we could and we couldn't be more proud. And you know what they say....Proud Mary keep on Burnin'! (Gosh, I should just sit at home and write witty puns for a living. Goodbye, college)
The main thing that we are nervous about for Saturday is simply that all of the pieces of our show will come together perfectly. The show involves a lot of help from not just the performers, but also the crew and band. Thankfully, we are lucky to have a great crew and a very talented combo. Still, what if a shoe goes flying? What if I trip and fall and bring two people down with me? What if my smile is too perfect? (Okay, that last one probably isn't going to happen, but I can dream) To most people surprise, show choir is taken very seriously. Although I like the show Glee, I feel that it sometimes lacks the competitiveness of real show choir and the age-old rivalries between schools.
The Sizzles have always had a good name when it comes to show choir. Some people say, "Oh boy! It's the Sizzles! They are on fire!" Sure, it doesn't have the same witty pun with the actual name, but I think my point has been proven. We all hope that we can live up to the name that surrounds us and not let the flame burn out (again, I am just on a roll with these fire puns). Still whether we win or lose, I think that we all know that we have prepared ourselves the best way that we could and we couldn't be more proud. And you know what they say....Proud Mary keep on Burnin'! (Gosh, I should just sit at home and write witty puns for a living. Goodbye, college)
You Know...I Speak Whale...
Chinese is a difficult language. While I was working the other day, I could overhear the servers in the Chinese department talking loudly in strange voices. When I realized they were speaking another language, I looked over at them and they were looking at me. Unlike the rude Chinese people who were staring at me, I quickly turned away and tried to pretend like I was wiping off the counter (unfortunately, I grabbed a magazine, so it probably did not look that convincing). I thought to myself, "They could be saying anything about me. Hey, look at the kid with the neck that is too large for his head! Is he a turtle-neck model or is it just naturally that way?" Who were they to point at me and speak in a different language? You don't see me pulling out the old Swahili and going, "Click, Click, Click," towards other people! Main point of blog post: language barriers are a bad thing.
In school I take Spanish. I am pretty good at it. I can conjugate all the necessary forms of certain verbs and tell you which one goes with what person, but once I hear it I am lost. One time, we were doing a listening assignment and we were expected to listen to a recording of a woman's day and say what she did. After listening to the tape, I was pretty sure she had been driving to her sister's house to pick up her garbage because she was handicapped and couldn't reach the front door. Apparently, that was wrong! She was buying a hotel! I guess that explains the elevator, but still! It made no sense to me!
The solution I would like to offer in response to language barriers is this: wave your hands around as much as possible. If I am speaking to someone and I want to know where the restrooms is, I can usually get my point across pretty well. Also, it might be useful to bring up things that all countries share. If I am looking for the nearest Copacabana, I might just hum a few bars of that beloved Barry Manilow hit that changed our lives so many years ago. Another option is to simply yell, "ENGLISH!?" really loud until someone says, "Stop yelling!" There, ask that person for directions. Guiding your way through different languages may be tough but just remember that we all speak one language: love....and television.
In school I take Spanish. I am pretty good at it. I can conjugate all the necessary forms of certain verbs and tell you which one goes with what person, but once I hear it I am lost. One time, we were doing a listening assignment and we were expected to listen to a recording of a woman's day and say what she did. After listening to the tape, I was pretty sure she had been driving to her sister's house to pick up her garbage because she was handicapped and couldn't reach the front door. Apparently, that was wrong! She was buying a hotel! I guess that explains the elevator, but still! It made no sense to me!
The solution I would like to offer in response to language barriers is this: wave your hands around as much as possible. If I am speaking to someone and I want to know where the restrooms is, I can usually get my point across pretty well. Also, it might be useful to bring up things that all countries share. If I am looking for the nearest Copacabana, I might just hum a few bars of that beloved Barry Manilow hit that changed our lives so many years ago. Another option is to simply yell, "ENGLISH!?" really loud until someone says, "Stop yelling!" There, ask that person for directions. Guiding your way through different languages may be tough but just remember that we all speak one language: love....and television.
Dearest Santa...
I have yet to blog about how Christmas went. Well, let me start with my evaluation of Santa. I'm going to give Santa a solid B+ this year. I can tell that he gave a good effort, but really, Santa? Really? You used the same wrapping paper that my parents used. Step it up a notch. I expect different wrapping paper from you. This way when I creep downstairs, in my jumbo-sized dog-Snuggie, I can tell which presents are yours and which are my parents. Now, I don't blame you for this mistake. I understand that Christmas is a big undertaking and with any big project, delegation is required. I would like to have the names of your most trusted elves and their address so that I may mail this letter to them as well. If they have an e-mail, I guess I could just send them this link. While we are on the topic of elves, I would like to address the unfair treatment of Freddy's employees. Since we sell some of the products that you make in your factory, I feel that we should be rewarded with a certain kind of compensation. To be frank, I want a reindeer. Let's face it, cars will soon be a thing of the past, and travelling by magic reindeer will be the only way to get to my weekly Nutri-Smoothie "meetings". It may be difficult for you to fly without one of your reindeer, but perhaps, if you rethought the structure of your sleigh, some of them would be unnecessary. Preferably, I would like Prancer, but if I have to take Blitzen, I will. I do not want that over-rated children's fantasy Rudolph. Maybe, you could cut off Rudolph's nose and put it on one of the other reindeer. Then, Rudolph would take the place of the reindeer I am taking.
Santa, there is another thing I would like for you to know. Recently, we have been learning about childhood obesity. I'm guessing that you think cookies and milk are harmless and safe. Well, do you know how much sugar is in flavored milk that they put in school cafeterias? A whole wheel-barrow full! And you're drinking one glass at every house in the world! We don't even know what's in Chinese milk! I realize that it is kind of your thing to drink milk and eat cookies, but why not try something more healthy? I'm sure children would be just as jolly putting out plates of peanut butter and celery for Santa to enjoy. Well, that's all for this year. Thanks again for stopping by!
Your Obedient, Humble Servant,
SlimShaney :)
Santa, there is another thing I would like for you to know. Recently, we have been learning about childhood obesity. I'm guessing that you think cookies and milk are harmless and safe. Well, do you know how much sugar is in flavored milk that they put in school cafeterias? A whole wheel-barrow full! And you're drinking one glass at every house in the world! We don't even know what's in Chinese milk! I realize that it is kind of your thing to drink milk and eat cookies, but why not try something more healthy? I'm sure children would be just as jolly putting out plates of peanut butter and celery for Santa to enjoy. Well, that's all for this year. Thanks again for stopping by!
Your Obedient, Humble Servant,
SlimShaney :)
Wednesday, January 5, 2011
Bore! What are they good for? Absolutely Nothin'! Say it Again!
John Updike, a U.S. author once said, "A healthy male adult bore consumes each year one and a half times his own weight in other people's patience." Well, if that is true then I know some people who spend a little too much time at McDonalds, if you know what i mean. Pumbaas (this is the name I sometimes give to "boar"-ing people) are the ones who, when you ask, "How's your day going?" actually tell you their life story. Listen, if I wanted to know about the cereal you ate for breakfast or the fact that you got a new bike at Fry Fest last Saturday, I would ask. When you ask me if I like fishing and I say no, stop pestering me about fishing. I don't want to go! Anyway, this post is not supposed to be about boring people. Instead, I would like to share with you all Slimshaney's List Of Boredom Be-gone Easy Rules (SLOBBER):
1) When speaking to someone of a boring nature, make sure to avoid direct eye contact. If you pretend that you actually enjoy the conversation, your next one will begin with, "Grandma did the funniest thing yesterday..." We don't want that now do we?
2) There are several things that you should not bring up in a conversation when talking to Pumbaa. First of all, never mention relatives. Unless if you want a flood of unrelenting questions about what college your sister goes to, it's best to just leave it alone. Also, never bring up activities that you are involved in, favorite food, past schools, pets, or any interests whatsoever. You're only feeding the fire if you do.
3) Don't say anything funny. ANYTHING. FUNNY. While you forget about what you even said, this person will spend the rest of your lives pretending that you have some sort of inside joke that binds you forever.
4) Finally, be nice. Do not be mean to a Pumbaa. Picture this: you tell your Pumbaa that they annoy you and that you don't want to be friends. Next, your new mortal enemy goes to the local voodoo shop, buys a couple of creepy, headless dolls, and commences their ever-long quest to rid the world of the "Evil Menace" (you).
So, remember to follow these helpful tips and avoid Pumbaas at all costs. I'm going to stop writing now. I'm a little bored.
1) When speaking to someone of a boring nature, make sure to avoid direct eye contact. If you pretend that you actually enjoy the conversation, your next one will begin with, "Grandma did the funniest thing yesterday..." We don't want that now do we?
2) There are several things that you should not bring up in a conversation when talking to Pumbaa. First of all, never mention relatives. Unless if you want a flood of unrelenting questions about what college your sister goes to, it's best to just leave it alone. Also, never bring up activities that you are involved in, favorite food, past schools, pets, or any interests whatsoever. You're only feeding the fire if you do.
3) Don't say anything funny. ANYTHING. FUNNY. While you forget about what you even said, this person will spend the rest of your lives pretending that you have some sort of inside joke that binds you forever.
4) Finally, be nice. Do not be mean to a Pumbaa. Picture this: you tell your Pumbaa that they annoy you and that you don't want to be friends. Next, your new mortal enemy goes to the local voodoo shop, buys a couple of creepy, headless dolls, and commences their ever-long quest to rid the world of the "Evil Menace" (you).
So, remember to follow these helpful tips and avoid Pumbaas at all costs. I'm going to stop writing now. I'm a little bored.
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