Coffee Rhetoric: ugh moments
Showing posts with label ugh moments. Show all posts
Showing posts with label ugh moments. Show all posts

July 13, 2011

Not Defeated...

Frustrated... Back to Square One... Need a freakin' break... Cheated... annoyed... ANNOYED ... In need of a reprieve... mentally exhausted... have no time to sulk but I really want to sulk ... At my wit's end ... DETERMINED ... Deserving... Mercurial ... Would love to curse aloud ... Desperately wanting to break things ... sick of heavily sighing ... Want to go far-far-FAR away ... Am introspective... Misanthropic... In need of company...$ being > than my growing list of of needs... Sick of politics... Sick of politicians... disgusted by the economic state of this country and the world at large... sick of getting shafted... tired of working from this crummy ass laptop... sick of people and their bullshit... Over indecisiveness... over being over... blah blah, so forth, so on, and blah... 
But I'm not defeated... 

October 23, 2010

I'm Blocked: Weekend Ear Candy Edition

 

I've been afflicted with a horrible case of Writer's Block, much to my chagrin. In the interim, while I parse the reasons why I'm letting minor distractions cause me to lose focus, I've really been enjoying Nina Sky's new haute fashion upgrade and the latest single off of their 8-track EP (which includes a reggae tinged cover of The Cure's 'Love Song by the way). It has an Old-School, Lisa Lisa & Cult Jam sound to it. I've also been silently crying broke tears of despair, because of this Etsy user's page, as I would like to order one of each of everything. ...
PeaceImages' 'Nuba' ring
Anyway, give me a minute or two... 

November 05, 2009

Save Your Own-damn-self

There's a certain type of man that agitates my gut, and causes it to gurgle with unpleasantness... making the pressure build up and hold my colon in its clutches with a vice-like grip. This type of guy orgasms and messes his drawers with creme de la man, when he thinks a woman is in great distress. He just can't bear to know that she'll be okay, and really doesn't want, desire, or need to confide in him, despite his constant pleas for her to do so...
This manly man has self-esteem issues of his own, and lest he obsesses over some woman who could care less about his prying, he can't thrive and feel good about himself. "I'm fine. My personal affairs are none of your business" usually generates a smug chuckle, and he interprets the response as combative and frustrated behavior. This type of character exists on different levels of the spectrum. Sometimes he relishes the thought of a woman having a bad day or a difficult spell and will shiver with pleasure... so he antagonizes and doles out unsolicited advice... patronizes because he's unhappy with himself, and thinks he's some sort of big shot who knows everything. He becomes even more antagonistic and self-satisfied in a desperate attempt to feel needed.. to feel superior. My theory is this type of guy was a big shot in high school and college, and is used to women giving a damn about his douchey behavior. Or that he may, quite possibly for certain, be a premature ejaculator and needs to feel adequate in some way.
He'll nibble, poke, and prod away like some mouse o'er top a hunk of cheese... a feeble attempt to break her resolve, until she crumbles into a crying heap, in his arms... as he rocks her and whispers know-it-all witticisms in her ear. This is what he's hoping will happen anyway. A regular limerent type, that one. With delusions of grandeur ... Might I suggest getting a life? It's not that serious. Regardless of how much you antagonize, patronize, and flex... you will remain insignificant in a universe known as Just Don't Give A Damn. You can be a tiny little satellite that orbits outside perimeter though.

October 02, 2009

Dear Juan (say it with the spit in the back of your throat),
While it was (not) somewhat of a pleasure meeting you at the bus stop last night, let me assure you, I have no interest in hanging out with you while your girlfriend is in the hospital, preparing to push out your seed.
Juan, propositioning a woman at the bus stop because you felt put upon for having to get your betrothed some jerk chicken at a nearby Jamaican restaurant and run various other errands for her, is the least you could do, considering she's indisposed and can't really do those things for herself. Also, the fact that she literally lives right down the street from me- a fact you so eloquently pointed out in addition to telling me you live in New Britain, are originally from Oakland, CA, and that you don't really know anybody from Hartford- is just not a good look.
I am unemployed Juan, and am desperately pounding the pavement so that I can get employed. I honestly don't need your girlfriend kicking in my front door, cursing me out on my voice mail, or whatever fallout that may result upon learning you're keeping company with me. Trust me, I do not want anymore annoyances in my life... especially of that sort. When I tried to reason with you, and tell you how asinine you sounded, you responded with: "It's not really that serious. We don't mesh well together. I'm hyper and she's more laid back and mellow. I'm bored, I need to have fun! Her ex-boyfriend is always calling her... even though she keeps telling him it's over."
Puzzled, I asked: "If it's not that serious, then why is she in the hospital about to have your baby?" "Yeah, well, she wanted a baby. I mean, we have another child... and we broke up, but it hasn't even been two months since we got back together and she got pregnant already, again!"
Since vomiting the lemon pound cake I ate prior to leaving my apartment, all over the front of your shirt wasn't really an option, I asked, "She got pregnant by herself?? TWICE? Fascinating!" Confused and slightly unsure you said, "Well, I mean, I got her pregnant, but she really wanted a baby, sooo... Can I just get your phone number? I'll just give you MINE then. I just need to kick it with someone and have some fun. I don't really know anybody around here. And she has me running all over the place getting jerk chicken and all this other stuff... I'm trying to take care of her business and mine too" you said, nodding towards the black duffle bag laying at your feet. Then you proceeded to ask me if I indulged in the chronic, if I had any children, and "Where're you headed now?? Do you drink? Can you call me tonight?" I blinked incredulously at you... Juan, none of these things are cool. They aren't sexy, and your approach is just... garbage. It was cute that you thought I was 25 years old though. I'm a firm believer in moisturizer. Anyway, that was THE ONLY charming thing that came out your mouth.
Please get your act together Juan. Juan get your life here! I hope I never run into you again.
xoxo Coffey

September 20, 2009

Whatevs...

A recent foray back into the world of temp agencies has CONFIRMED the reasons why I haven't registered with one in so long. Bullshit, constant runaround, indecisive clients, lack of courtesy and consistency. Which is unfortunate, because I had such high hopes for this current one I registered with. I was sold. Needless to say, I'm back at square one... my resolve is still intact however, and this is all that matters.
I am so over job hunting, but do it out of necessity. Am pounding the pavement and doing everything short of working the stroll (which would probably be lucrative at this point). How do certain people with no discernible skills, education, personality, or professionalism manage to get hired and stay employed?? Oh, do tell! If only I were born a socialite... ah, whatever. I do enjoy having a strong work ethic, so nevermind. ... not saying having tons of money wouldn't make life damned easier while I navigate the trials and tribulations of job hunting.
Hopefully my one-on-one I booked with a job counselor will present results, insight, and leads!

July 04, 2009

It's Alive!!!!!

This past week, I have made valuable use of my time. I cut up some juicy and delicious fruit, I saw Corey Holcomb headline a comedy show, I hung out with a great friend, and I'm sorta doing some household projects... oh yes, and I'm looking for a new job because I got laid off Monday. Here's my word: Why is it when you're laid off, people retreat from you as if you have the damn Bubonic Plague or they tsk as if you're a charity case or on the cusp of needing anti-anxiety meds? Or they feel compelled to forward any and every job posting to you, not keeping in mind that you've got this?
I understand that people mean well, but I am doing remarkably well. I got laid off from a JOB. A job that wasn't my dream career. I'm being compensated for it, it happens to the best of us, I'm optimistic, and I truly believe in the old adage that when one door closes, a window opens someplace else. Perps, look around you! In case you haven't noticed, we're living in shaky economic times. It is happening universally. I'm not the only person in history who has been laid off. I am confident that even in these times, I will find a new job soon. I had been looking prior to learning that the organization I worked for was in dire financial trouble. I am not a charity case. I am not expecting anybody to pay for my drinks, look after me, or help me with my rent and bills, so you don't need to retreat or head for the hills. I'm not about to emotionally implode either so no need to avert your eyes away from me.
Oh, and if one more person says, "Awww, have you been looking? What are you looking for? You'll find something soon" I'm going to stick my finger down my throat and vomit on them. It has only been a week! Making me feel as if I should be feeling like a steaming hot piece of shit only makes you look ridiculous in my eyes. I have a caring family, who lives nearby and an awesome true blue so if I need to vent or need help with anything, I'm all set. Attempts at helping me and then questioning whether I know what exactly I want to do with my life is nothing short of condescending and rude. It's akin to kicking a person when they've stumbled and then holding your food against their throat while they're struggling to get up and dust themselves off to fight back. I know how this process works. You want to help me? Offer to provide me with a reference like other level-headed folks have already done. Treat me as you once did when I was employed. If you run across something you THINK I'd or would be a good fit... go ahead and forward it, but don't make it your personal mission to be my career counselor like I'm wayward and pathetic. It may be hard for some folks to wrap their mind around the fact that I'm doing great and that I am actually pounding the pavement, but that is my reality. I'm sorry if you haven't grasped that yet. And one other thing... you don't have to avoid me, because chances are I am stoked about never having to work with or interact with you again and you need to realize what climate we're living in. The folks that matter and who can appreciate how to network with me in a productive manner, have my contact information and know how to reach me (this includes those who want to hang out and have a great time as well). And to those who don't know how exactly to interact with me anymore... if I need your help or advice... I'll offer it to YOU.
That is all.

May 07, 2009

Les Miserable: A Bus Tale About Peace and Harmony

Sooo -
These past couple of days, my bus rides to work have been relatively peaceful. Benita Butrell hasn't been on recently ... thank goddess. Very good, very gooood. Peace, serenity and... "You need to move your umbrella! If I trip over it I'm gwanna bus' you in your fucking face!!!" Threatened the West Indian woman who walked on all be-scarfed, red with malice and anger, to the the heavy set Latina woman... minding her business and plugged into her IPod. Me? On the inside, I'm like "whoa, whoa, whoaaaa Neeellyyy." Seems many of the bus passengers were exclaiming the same thing with their eyes. A relatively quiet ride suddenly disrupted like a sunny picnic by a bolt of lightning with thunder.
Let's rewind.
This morning was a wet, gloomy rainy one. I recall boarding the bus with relative ease. I didn't trip, I didn't have to step over anything. I sat across from the Latina woman, whose small, purse sized umbrella (of the Totes variety) was nestled tightly on the floor, wedged between her feet. Out of the way, inconspicuous and damp.
I boarded... okaaaay, Regular Joe Schmoe boarded... ooookaaaay.... Young woman boards sans any probs.... ooookaaaaay.....
Angry Jamaican woman boards. NOT okay. She gets on with no apparent problem and sits her ass down. Then suddenly she yells from her seat, in her heavily accented voice- "Your umbrella is on the floor!"
The Latina is looking away, calm and bobbing in time with her music. "Your umbrella is ON THE FLOOR." Crazy yells! Still no response. Finally the Jamaican woman gets up out of her seat, taps the Latina woman on her arm frantically and yells, "I said..."
"I know it's there." the Latina woman answers calmly without unplugging her music, and casually turns away.
"WELL YOU NEED TO MOVE IT BEFORE SOMEONE TRIPS OVER IT!!! IF I TRIP OVER IT, I'M GONNA BUS' YOU IN YOUR FUCKING FACE!!!!!"
The Jamaican woman yells from her seat. The Latina shrugs at her and continues to enjoy her music.
"YOU NEED TO MOVE THAT UMBRELLA BEFORE SOMEONE TRIPS YOU STUPID BITCH!!!!"
Latina casually turns to the woman and says, "No one will trip. You see it when you get on."
"WHAT BALLS. WHAT A STUPID BITCH" THE Angry Jamaican yells. "Whatever." said the Latina casually. With that, she calmly got up and off at her next stop. I felt like saying to El Pollo Loca, "Bitch be COOL, you're sitting down already, and your crazy ass didn't trip, What the Bombaclaat?? DAMN." But just scowled in her direction instead.
What the HELL? What on earth provoked that unwarranted attack? See, I had my tote bag on the floor of the bus, out of the way, tucked in-between MY feet. What if she decided to direct her venomous, hot garbage at moi? I really commend the Latina woman for her casual indifference. I reeeeally do, because some people simply ask for it. They BEG and PLEAD for it.
What prompts folks to wake up in the early morn and decide to spew their misery onto others??? And so early, pre-coffee. The NERVE!
Anyway, check out this Interesting blog post about about a man's vow to wait 6 months before he kisses a woman. She may have to resign herself to using creams, jellies and toys.

April 20, 2009

Update- Tales from the Darkside and Home Improvement

Conversations that transpired while walking around my neighborhood this past Friday:

Encounter 1: Lady buffalo stancing outside Family Dollar and Carlos's Supermarket: " 'Scuse me MISS. You got a dolla'??" Me: "Nope." Lady: "How about fifty cent? You got ANY change?????" Me: I shook my head emphatically and hurried inside towards my destination for Folgers and flip flops.

Encounter 2: While walking from Green Apple produce market

Man: (standing next to disheveled Black woman: "Scuse me Miss... you think you can give me and my friend here some money...." Me: Shook head emphatically and hurried inside.

**I come back outside from store**

Woman (beggar's friend), in a slow, drug induced drawl: "Scuse me... MISS. Can I have some..." Me: Shaking head so hard my neck pops, as I hurry down the street towards home... Woman (yelling after me): "Well, you got a CONDOM den??"
Encounter 3: The best friend (Cat to those not in the know) visits. After settling in, we head back out at around 10pm... Cat, being the genius that she is... parks TWO WHOLE BLOCKS away! We stand and wait outside, in the mild night air, waiting to cross the street...
Condom Lady approaches... head lolled to the side as she lumbers over, like a corpse out of Night of the Living Dead: "Scuuuuse Me. Ladies... Ya'll got aaaany money I can..." Cat and I in unison: "NO!" We run out into busy traffic, desperate to get away from Condom lady. Bitch is lumbering towards us at a clip now!
We make it. I verbally abuse Cat for parking so far away!! And Onward Life has been somewhat busy. I'm still... still... settling into my apartment. It is starting to feel a lot like home, however. With several free acquisitions, a few priced next to nothing accents, switching things around and figuring out (through trial and error) what works in this particular space, things are starting to come together. I now have a king sized bed and board (sans frame, but not dire) today. I'm excited. The bed is huge. Bedding will be costly, but I plan on NOT paying more than 30 dollars for king sized bedding.

Check out what's going on thus far

Oh and I also acquired this amdist the madness.

August 02, 2008

Closer

So, it turns out- (says the nice lady, whose cute lil condo is up for rent)- that I have to pass muster with a Condo Association. Her words exactly? "Hi Coffey, this is Condo Owner. I'm just calling to touch base with you about the apartment. The contractor is coming and the flooring and everything else should be finished by Monday."
"Sounds great!" I said.
"You just need to get approved by the condo association. They will do a background check and then I will call you and let you know for certain!"
Suddenly I got a horrible case of bubble guts.
"Oh, okay. Thanks for calling. Talk to you soon"
I chimed in, optimism holding on for dear life... or at least until the end of the phone call. You know that scratched/broke record sound effect one hears when "Fer sure!" turns to "Maybe?" Yes. That's the sound I heard in my head. Background check? While I have no criminal history to speak of, one never knows what a background check will produce. It's always nerve-wracking to have strangers poking around in your history. Things can be misconstrued! They can pass judgment over a simple misunderstanding! My neuroses knows no bounds. I am a worrier. I tend to think the worse. I understand that certain communities want to make sure they aren't residing in close quarters with pieces of trash. Either way, I feel so close yet sooo far away suddenly from my goal suddenly. Getting close and then having the rug yanked as I approach my destination, seems par for the course with me, sometimes. I'm hopeful. I. am. hopeful. Next week will dictate yay or nay.
On a completely random note, I received and obscene call at work Thursday. The appetizer to the main course, yes. The man's voice was rich. It was deep. It was Barry White sexy in its PROFESSIONAL and inquiring tone. As the conversation went downhill, however, that voice suddenly became lecherous. Skeevy in its interrogation...
"Hi, I'm looking for information on Such and Such Organization. Do you know anything about that?"
"Hm." I replied thoughtfully, "I'm not sure I have that info on hand. Let me ask around for you. You mind holding for one quick second?"
"Not at all, with your PLEASANT sounding self." his deep voice oozed. "You sound sooo nice and pllleasant." he breathed.
"Thanks. Anyway, give me a second." I said, taken aback but still trying to maintain some semblance of professionalism.
Needless to say, no one had the answers I sought for this voice over the phone.
"I'm sorry, but I don't have information on the Such and Such Organization. We don't really work directly with them. And the person who MAY be able to help you is currently in a meeting."
I considered offering him some other alternatives. But then...
"Mmmmm" he moaned. "So you don't have a phone number I could reach them at...?"
"No, I don't. Sorry." I said, growing a little impatient (I had to use the restroom) and wanting to end the call, for I sensed it was about to take a strange turn... right smack dab in a gutter littered with used condoms, smashed ciggie butts, and a pair of dirty, ripped panties. Hmmm... are those undulating bodies I see pressed up against the brick wall??
"hmmm, mmm..."
he moaned some more.
"... Okay... ummm, can I ask you a question... oh my god..."
he moaned in that deep voice... "
"Do you LOOK as good as you sound?"
Suddenly I got a visual of this man, shut in his office, sitting behind a desk grimacing and leaning back in his chair... slowly unzipping his trousers... A co-worker appeared at my desk, and noticed the alarm on my face...
"Um, anyway, so yeah. bye!"
I said and hung up abruptly. I relayed the strange call to her and she let out a raucous laugh.
"You know you enjoyed it!" she teased.
"Um, perhaps I would have in the privacy of my own home. But not at my JOB!"
I shot back. ... Ironically enough, I watched Girl 6 last night. So in any event, my fingers are crossed and hopefully I will enjoy an obscene phone call or two, in the privacy of my new apartment? Perhaps the call and then last night's movie are positive signs?
Okay I'm reaching. ...

April 08, 2008

In Which Coffey Learns

During these stuffy sinused, work filled and busy days, I've finally had the opportunity to reflect on conversations heard whle out and circumstances I've run across. I've been taken to school, if you will. Inadvertent lessons taught to moi. As my ears pop and my nasal passages clear up, I'm suddenly awash in a brilliant sea of clarity. I've realized, in this current cult of personality, that people will simply continue to be themselves in all their loud, stank, uncouth glory. Bad, ugly, unhygenic, and overwhelmingly raunch. This much I know is true. I realize that people have no qualms about boarding the bus, early in the AM, taking their seat, and then breathing heavily... their breath reeking of jungle rot or hot garbage on a particularly humid day. I can sit here and ask the universe whether it's too much to ask or wish for certain people to floss, brush or scrape their tongue, gargle and take it to the back, perhaps pop a mint before venturing out into the world... But why bother? The answer is yes, it is too much to ask. And so I suffer silently. Fate decreed that this is the cross I must bear sans questions. I also learned while en route to the mall (on the bus of course)- this past Saturday, that a young Hispanic lass I'll call Romeo (all of maybe 16 years old) was headed in my direction to meet Lissette. Lissette, apparently, was going to meet Romeo at the mall, so that he could "fuck her." ... "Yeah," proclaims Romeo to his buddy, "Lissette's gonna meet me there so I can fuck her." To which his friend replied with a spitty chuckle/chortle combo. Ahhh, I learn something new every single day. Is this what young people do now? Do they have trysts at the mall?? Whatever happened to sitting in the dark, at the back of the theater? Or going to the park after dusk? Folks our future depends on these very same young people. In which case, I'd rather not be cryogenically frozen. I'll just go head and rot. I also learned that a mall is NOT the place to be on a Saturday afternoon, with a sinus infection. It was hot, it was extremely crowded, and I couldn't concentrate for I found myself wondering about Romeo and Lissette. I didn't want to run into them in some sort of compromising position. Speaking of young people, I also learned that in their quest for fame, they like to videotape themselves beating the living daylights out of some poor unsuspecting victim, in hopes of uploading it on YouTube. Yup, don't freeze me, just burn me and throw my ashes in the nearest ocean. Life's little lessons can be a bit overwhelming when swallowed whole sometimes. Now pardon me while I go wait for my food to digest ...

March 15, 2008

The Gods Must Be Crazy

Why must the universe remind me, once a month, for one long excruciating and uncomfortable week, that I'm a woman. More importantly, why must I suffer for that very reason???
I planned on waking up early, this fine Saturday morn, to attend a St. Patty's Day brunch (complete with mimosas) at my workplace, but the powers that be had other plans for me... and it involves throbbing delicates, bloat, sore lower back, and a cramping lower tummy. This is what my weekend will end up being like (see below)... hope yours is just as pleasant. Men you just don't wanna know. You've no idea at'all. That's it...

March 10, 2008

I'll Be Back...

... I am worked to the BONE. Literally. I'm tired, lethargic, and functioning on caffeine (not that it does a damn thing). Work is fast paced and busy-busy and to top it all off I've lost an hour's worth of sleep! That on top of apotment hunting.
I want to do stuff. I want to write stuff. I want to relay witty anecdotes here, oh do I have some witty ones stored away in my memory's bank. I want to go out and about during my downtime, but I can't bring myself to do so. I'm lazy. I've got stuff to share and I'm too lazy. I've got places to go, but once I retreat to the home front, my limbs turn wooden. I think about doing... but they don't move. I become a stone statue.
Spring is on the horizon and I sense slight lubrication in my winter-stiff joints. On a positive note, sleep isn't such an elusive idea anymore. For now anyway.
In any event, give me a few minutes or so. I'll be back... I just need to shake my lazy pelt off.
P.S. I stumbled upon some Absinthe, or Absente rather. ...

February 15, 2008

... Didn't You Know This?

That wretched, waste of time and money holiday... the one that starts with a V and shall remain nameless, is finally done and over with.
I always find it amusing when couples wait once a year to do something thoughtful and sexy for one another, before settling back into the routine of being jerks to one another. I smirked on the inside as a co-worker discussed how mean and cold his siggy other acted toward him, prompting him to consider calling it quits over the past weekend, before she called apologizing... all sweetness and light. Bitch knew that V day was on the horizon, that's why. Word on the street is that he got her an assortment of lovely gifts anyway.
I rolled my eyes as I listened to the frazzled bartender at restaurant Hot Tomatoes, sitting in wait for my lunch as he complained about the dozens of reservations overwhelming the restaurant for the evening... "people don't realize, we'll be extremely busy and they expect to be in and out in like 45 minutes!"
"Call me jaded, but I don't understand what all the fuss is about..." I opined. "It'll be done and over with in hours, and couples will go back to clawing at one another's throats on the 15th. But perhaps I'm just saying this, because I'm single..."
"Yeah..." he agreed before throwing up his hands at the ringing phone and rushing to answer it... Another hopeful patron probably wanting a reservation, no doubt. And then there was that attractive, young, sharply dressed and perfumed Hispanic couple I passed on the street later on that evening, after clocking off from work... arguing en route to Hot Tomatoes, as girlfriend struggled in her pointy-toed stiletto boots, to keep up with her agitated boyfriend, as they stomped to their destination over melting snow piles.
Ask me how deep my scowl furrowed, as I shook my head at the tacky assortment of plastic hearts, pitiful looking single red roses individually wrapped and contained behind cellophane plastic (for a whopping 5 to 10 bucks a pop), white teddy bears holding red heart pillows with the words "I Love You" painted on the front, and other stupid bric-a-brac vendors were hoping to hawk to desperate last minute shoppers, who didn't have time to order that delicious (and pricey) flower shaped cantaloupe bouquet from Edible Arrangements.
The most infuriating moment, however? ... Walking into CVS Pharmacy and discovering every last bit of fucking chocolate... every box of Hershey's Pot O' Gold (on sale for $3.88) sold the eff out!! The inconsiderate vultures. I wanted to push the shelves over in blind, white hot fury, but instead purchased a pack of cellulose facial sponges, black liquid eyeliner, and gum and stormed out into the damp, dark winter malaise, in a moue of glossy indignation and disgust.
The bitter ramblings of a young woman, never having been in love and cynical about the complex maze of dating? Perhaps. Or maybe just realistic and an staunch advocate of consistency in genuine behavior and emotions, just 'cause... not prompted by some corny holiday, that dictates you should go broke buying someone's affections once a year.
This morning, as I made my way to the entrance of my place of employment I came upon a sad looking, red, heart shaped mylar balloon, with Betty Boop on the front... flirty and dripping hearts lying on the ground. Dejected on February 15th. The last remnants of the previous day already forgotten and only remembered to begin with, due to some overwhelming sense of obligation. Half deflated and out of place in the backdrop of a crisp, bright, wintry-white morning as people hurried around it, rushing about in long, black winter coats... faces grim as they clutched their oversized Starbucks cups as if the 14th never happened. Clutching my own dark roast, I stopped and looked down at it. I shook my head. That pretty much summed up V-day. I stepped on Betty's face with my favorite pair of calf boots and rushed in to start my day.
P.S. to the man whose phone number I accepted a couple of weeks ago, because I thought you were genuine... TEXTING a response to someone's voicemail message, after "hoping" that they'd call: "Thanks! Talk to U Later" and then following up by calling at odd hours: 7:30 AM as you're getting in your car (I heard you unlocking your door), calling and then hanging up sans leaving a voicemail, texting "Are U up??" @ 12:20AM on a week day are NOT the proper ways to woo someone for a date and is rather dubious. Been there, done that... and the shirt I have to prove it? I use it to clean around the house. Strikes one, two, AND three. You're out!

February 10, 2008

Rolling With the Punches

Life is still chug, chug, chugging along. Work keeps me pretty busy, I've been consuming large doses of chocolate, coffee, and smoked almonds... prescribed by Dr. Jones, M.D. and struggling to find sleep however and wherever I can (sometimes I pass out fully clothed, not having the energy to change into my PJs, and not waking up until the next morning with my tongue stuck to the roof of my mouth, and my eyeliner smeared all over my eyes). I takes it however I can get it. That's what facial cleanse, a nice hot shower, and toothpaste is for. The apartment hunt also rages on. I'm hoping late Spring early Summer will find me laying down a deposit somewhere cool. The weather has been grey, brisk, and foggy complete with snow showers or just simply rain. I've also been watching a lot of horror films, for some reason...
This past Thursday, I had my first official work related altercation (it had been building because she had been acting the fool from word go), which leads me to the conclusion that some people are just predisposed to lunacy, ignorance, and being les miserables in search of company. New kid on the block or not, I am never afraid to stand up for myself particularly if I feel as if my livelihood is being threatened. There is never any reason to feel intimidated by someone just looking for trouble, because they think they can. Unfortunately for her, she discovered that I am NOT the one, and I only need to state my case once. I don't need to yell, wiggle my neck, or jab my finger to get my point across. I refuse to engage in some sort of back and forth power struggle every single day I come to work, and I make my point in a level, stern, yet controlled voice. I make sure to maintain eye contact to show how unafraid I am. Considering the tumultuous experience I left at my previous place of employment, I do not plan on engaging pettiness, gossip, disingenuousness, and behaviors of the like.
I'm busy, preoccupied, there for very specific reasons... to perform tasks and contribute my expertise and work ethic as best as I can, and to be cordial to everyone so I can go home in a relatively decent mood. My brain is full to capacity and there's no room for irrelevancy. Period. Needless to say this past Friday, she was sweetness and light. And I still don't like her, but I'm glad she was acting human... because all we have to be is cordial and civil to one another, to reach work related goals. I don't know why people think the work place is for unproductive socializing and trying to start some unnecessary mess. It's not a place for escandaloso! I also appreciate the warnings I received and the support shown me ... encouraging me not to take that ish personally, because of someone's issues. I gots to roll with the punches maybe, and dust that ish off.
On an interesting note, whilst standing, waiting for a cab on a dark, particularly wet and foggy evening, A man walked by me and asked me if I needed a ride anywhere. I politely declined and told him I had a taxi on its way. He walked half way to his car, turn and yelled, "How about dinner then?!" I laughed. He walked back over and made his case: "I am really spontaneous, I'm not married, no girlfriend, I'll give me your number and you can think about it." He also told me he had planned on getting take out for dinner, but decided to stop by the supermarket and get fixings for a nice dinner. One of the most genuine approaches I ever experiences sans the stupid pick up lines. I accepted his number. And finally called him Friday after I returned from lunch, to say "hello." We spoke briefly. He said he had been thinking about me the previous day, saying to himself that I wouldn't call. I told him, I phoned because he seemed genuine and wasn't corny... I said in a previous post that I am too preoccupied to entertain prospective dates. Why do these things happen at the most inopportune moments?
To be continued. ...

January 26, 2008

Personal Space Invasion Syndrome (PSIS)

I've been documenting the crazy on here since about 2004. I think regular readers (assuming people have been following this blog for that long)- probably are hip to the fact that I am a self-described neurotic with a smattering of germaphobia and a dollop of obssessive behavior (i.e. where I place items in my personal space matters, as I insist things be placed a certain way, and that they're neat and organized). And while this much I know is in fact true, my quirkiness has not prompted any need for prescriptions used to combat any anxiety or psychotic episodes. In summation, I'm a relatively normal person- (considering the levels of actual weirdness festering out there)- who is slightly askew. I pump a celebratory fist at my eccentricities and don't plan on changing any time soon. No one's infallible. And for those acting like they are... you all need to cut it out. The prologue aside, if there's one thing I cannot stand, it is when people (particularly those not close with or familiar to me) invade and tamper with my personal space and belongings without my permission. Close talkers (if I back up a couple of inches... please don't move forward to close the already small gap)- If you don't come in a wine glass, we aren't about to kiss, or about to engage in relations... there's no need for anybody to be 2 inches away from my mouth, beyond the standard (6 to 8 sq ft), conversational closeness. I think violating someone's space; adjusting and taking other people's things without asking is rude, discourteous, and disrespectful... particularly if you're the type of person who resents having your things tampered with and especially if it's within the context of a communal (i.e. work) environment, where the majority of the space is already shared, to begin with. It's almost as if certain people feel as if they're entitled to behave this way, or they have the right to impose their tastes by strongly suggesting a person should rearrange things to look a particular way other than how they choose have it set up. I mean, you listen and humor people afflicted with PSIS by saying, "Oh okay, that sounds nice. But I think I'll just leave it like this" and they're adamant about trespassing, like an uninvited guest who insinuates him/herself into your home, rearranges the furniture, and uses your toothbrush! You can see their sweaty fingers and palms wiggling with the desire to touch your stuff. To rearrange, to fix and fuck everything up... making you ready to sling some pimp slaps. These people, who like to stand shoulder to shoulder, toe-to-toe... so close that you feel a little of their spittle spray your face during conversation. Making you shudder with disgust, also prompting you to tap your foot uncomfortably, to swallow hard, and blink furiously to keep from going nuts. People, listen, regardless of how crazy this rant may seem, this type of bahavior is definitely a spatial DON'T. I think we've gotten too comfortable in this current cult of personality. Manners are a thing of the past. We live in a culture that divulges TMI about bowel movements, itchy delicates, and explicit sexploits (some great to listen to, some not so sexy), where people will grope, expose themselves or rub up against strangers, and where people think it's okay to invade... to bully their way into someone else's orbit, scattering forces messing up the alignment of your small planets. All it does is create tension, anger, and more neuroses to grapple with. How difficult is it to be respectful of other people's space and property? It's not. Some concepts are fundamental and implicit. So back the hell up and keep hulking figure and hands off of other people's sphere, unless invited. That's it.

November 16, 2007

I Hate Myself...

... Because I felt compelled to rent and then watch Herschell Gordon Lewis's campy, splatter flick, The Gruesome Twosome. If that weren't self-inflicted punishment enough, I decided to follow it up with John Waters's, Desperate Living. Now I'm all for camp and trash, but that hateful, hateful sadomasochistic torture I put myself through has left me flummoxed. As I stomped down the street this sunny fall afternoon, I suddenly paused in the middle of the sidewalk (much to a couple of passersby curiosity) and asked myself, "why?" Why would I do that to myself? Anyway, I'm following it up with The Gore Gore Girls. I'm sure that'll help undo the damage and take the edge off as I ponder my career and future.

November 13, 2007

Rat Race

I can openly say (now) that I've been pounding the pavement for the past several months, job interviewing, hunting, fielding phone calls, mailing out resumes, receiving notices confirming receipt of my resume, wash, rinse and then repeat. Needless to say, the whole process is frustrating. It's the pits! Particularly when you're so close. Sooooo very close to being hired only to be told "Ohhh.... well you're too overqualified" or "We can't move forward with an offer for another two months. Sorry for putting you through SEVERAL INTERVIEWS AND PHONING EVERY LAST ONE OF REFERENCES, AND DOING THAT BACKGROUND CHECK ON YOU!! Please bear with us..." Notwithstanding the fact that you've answered all of their redundant (and sometimes condescending and ridiculous) questions, and have been more than accommodating in providing them with everything they need to move forward with an offer, including making yourself available at a moment's notice for another interview. I feel like a salesperson, going door to door selling your wares. One or two people invite you in. Let you sit down and go through your whole spiel. They nod. They ask several questions. They seem interested. They breathe in as if they're about to say, "I'm sold! I'll take two!" Only to change their minds and say, "Ohhh. I'm sorry. I'm not interested." Argh! Frustrating. Sometimes I wonder if those doing the interviewing, remember what it was like when they were practically groveling for their jobs... I need a drink.
The movie clip is from the film, Fear and Trembling, based on Amelie Nothomb's novel Stupeur et Tremblement.

October 15, 2007

Tantalus is My Homeboy

Drawing straws and constantly coming up short, is exasperating. In fact, it's downright maddening. Especially when you think you're making headway. When you're soooo close to triumph. My face hurts from all the (fake) smiling, taking 'ish in stride, and feigning optimism in the wake of so many roadblocks. I feel like going outside in the chilly fall air, and screaming at the top of my lungs. I want the whole world or at least those within a 10 block radius, to feel... know... experience what adverse frustration feels like. You know that twisting feeling one gets at the pit of the stomach... when you've overindulged in way too much of a good thing... like intensely flavored Middle Eastern fare or rich chocolate truffles, rolled in even more powdered cocoa? That is what adverse frustration feels like. At least for me. ...
I breathe in... and then I exhale. I breathe in... and then I exhale. I try to stop the rapid beating in my chest. I unclench my fists and I massage the insides of my right hand, and then use the right to massage the left. And then I dive back in. Making sure to pinch my nostrils closed so as not to breathe in too much of the elements, because I don't wanna drown or knock the wind out of my person ...

October 03, 2007

GodIS Help Me

I have the worst headache I've had in a long time. I feel as if my brain is trying to push its way out, through the back of my head. Oh yes. It's one of those days where you turn on your auto-pilot massive proportions, where the pounding is so intense, you sort of stumble to the side almost drunkenly, in your quest to walk upright and ignore the pain. switch, and the sudden need to be heavily medicated starts to plague you. It is a head ailment of In a desperate attempt to collect yourself, you prop yourself up against any available wall or table's edge and try to pull your 'ish together. You feign a weak "I'm okay" when someone stares at you quizzically and asks you if something is the matter. It's a headache so powerful, that it carried over from the day before, despite the fact that you medicated yourself (in vain) Anyone who talks to you about some petty insignificant thing, you want to scream, demand that they "Shut up!" Because they only make your head feel worse-- Yup, that's exactly how I feel today.