Perhaps I should have elaborated...

Or maybe I elaborated in the wrong way...

With my last post, I didn't mean to imply that I am in any way ready to just settle down, get married, and have babies. Far from it. I know I was talking a great deal about the fact that many of my friends have decided to pair off, but (at least mentally,) I was more focused on the loss of my spark. Upon re-reading the post, I can certainly see how I lost the focus on the spark and got bogged down in all that other stuff. Sorry.

As happy as I was to see that you all think that all the fun hasn't totally leapt out of me, and that it's just a side effect of unemployment, I am still a girl who has lost her spark. And as such, I don't have much to report to you. I'm no fun. I'm a shit.

So cheers to you, I'm going to have another glass of wine, and another couple of episodes of Sex and the City... Because that's what we boring people do.

A murky picture...

As a denizen of the self-involved realm of blogging, I have a tendency to do a certain amount of self examination even when otherwise engaged in the most ordinary tasks. Some would say that this kind of behavior is exactly what's wrong with the world today. I tend to disagree. I am pretty sure one of those philosophers or scholars of old once said that the unexamined life is not worth living, and that I am more of this school of thought. After a day spent in-part with a friend who was occupied with the task of finding an end table to go with her new sofa, I got to thinking about my situation, how I got here, and where I'm headed.

Overlooking the professional aspect of this whole picture for a moment, let's look at the life of Lizzle. (The professional portion will come into view soon enough.) Ok, Lizzle is terminally single. Due in no small part to the fact that she gets hung up on all the wrong people. I engage in semi-self-destructive, self-indulgent behaviors. I live in a little apartment in a big city. I don't talk to my friends with nearly the frequency I'd like. I don't go out and drink and laugh until 5 AM on a Saturday night like I used to... And not out of a need for recovery time, I can still hang and recover on a Sunday like a champion. In fact, I've noticed a distinct deficiency in the giggle department of late... And I don't like that one bit.

I used to be so loud and happy and fun. Now I fear that I'm becoming one of those quieter brooding types. Yeah sure, I'll bump and grind on the odd Saturday night without any regard for how I look to anyone else, but now it's because I've been drinking for a few hours, and I'm not going to embarrass myself because I'm alone in my apartment, and not because I just don't give a damn what other people in the bar might think. (Rereading that last sentence makes me feel intensely pathetic and probably makes you think I'm a total alcoholic... I assure you that while I might be a little pathetic, I'm not an alcoholic. And no, I'm not just in denial.)

So where did it all go so very very wrong? I don't know. I know that a lot of people would have me believe that this is just a part of growing up, and that since I'm not in college anymore that it's only natural to start acting like this. But I don't think that's it. Yes, I totally lived every day to the fullest during my college years, and no, I can't believe they actually gave me a diploma for the minimal amount of effort I actually put into it. But I feel like apart from just growing up, and seeing so many of my friends move off to the burbs, I've lost something more substantial. I've lost more than just that spark... I feel like someone or something has snuffed the candle in its entirety. And that bums me out. It's like the death of all that was once fun in me.

I've watched my friends grow up too. They have started to pair off and settle into happy domestic adult lives. They have started their own little families. People I went to high school with have husbands/wives and children. And I am still stalled back on the day I heard the locker room rumor about them getting caught making out in the dugout after class. As much as I would really welcome a meaningful relationship right now, I can't help but wonder, did they just settle because they don't know any better, or is it that they are [gasp] genuinely happy with how things are playing out for them? No matter how long they have been together, somehow I am still shocked when I hear about my friends having weddings and kids, partly because I know that I can barely handle taking care of myself, let alone a small child. (There is a part of me that is vaguely jealous though, because they have things in hand. They have a settled plotted life ahead of them... Whereas I am currently confused and blindly staring out into the void, desparately searching for some sign of life and calling out, "Is there anybody out there?")

If I was saddled with a kid at my age, I could understand how I might lose the compulsion to go out and drink myself retarded on a weekend, but as things are, there is no real definitive answer.

Some of you might be thinking that this lack of fun is due to the recent lack of funds... And at first glance I would have been inclined to agree with you, but upon further examination I find that's not it either... Well, maybe in part, but certainly not as a whole. Although I must say that if it is a contributing factor, I would say that unemployment has been far more costly than originally calculated... And by that I mean it has cost me more in spirit than I could ever make up financially by having a stellar credit rating, (which is also shot to hell). The financial loss I could make up, given time... I fear the loss of spirit is far more insurmountable and far more difficult to replace.

And in my original plan, I had decided that I wanted to be back in school working on my Masters degree by now, but suffering the repeated and incrementally-increasing setbacks that I've seen since my matriculation from undergraduate studies, well, that plan has been put on hold. It would seem that the school of hard knocks isn't quite ready to quit taking my money, and just give me my diploma just yet. (For the record, this school of hard knocks degree is requiring much more effort and lost sleep than my last degree.)

Maybe I'm just losing my damn mind... I hope it meets up with my spark of spirit out there in the void, meanwhile I'll just be sitting here boring and crazed... You think?

The Beatles knew their shit...

John and Paul knew what they were talking about when they wrote the song "With a Little Help from My Friends."

I was not doing anything in particular when my phone rang. It was Kirsten. She was calling because she needed to vent. She was having one of those weeks where nothing in particular went wrong, but not much seemed to be going right either. She'd been sick all week, had a bad day and come home from work and had a cry, and once she came to her senses, she called me. We talked for a couple of hours, she learned of my recent plight, I learned about her bad week, we both talked at length about our disdain for sports broadcasters, we laughed, we talked about our families, and when all was said and done, we were both better off having talked to the other.

I'm always taken by surprise by these kinds of phone calls. I didn't expect the call, but as it turns out I felt immensely better when it was over. And Kirsten summed it up well by saying that talking to me was just what she needed because she got a chance to vent, and knew that I would say exactly what I meant in reply to her woes. (It's nice to have a friend that just gets you like that.)

I don't have anything else to report to you. I'm sure I've probably bored the hell out of you with this, but let me assure you that it was still the best damn part of my week.

Be good my lovelies.

Reflections from square one...

Ok, this is my third try at this post. The first time blogger ate it. The second time my computer wigged out for a second, and poof, it was gone again... Let's hope that the third time is the charm.

Here goes nothing!

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I called my mother to discuss my situation here...

She gave me the old gem, "That which doesn't kill us only makes us stronger."

(First off, I'm glad I've got that one written down now... Heaven forbid we lose the formula for that brand of rocket surgery!)

I replied, "That may be the case, but I'd really like a period of atrophy."

And by atrophy, I don't mean to imply that I want or expect a part of life where nothing goes wrong. I am not asking to win the lottery, or to find suddenly that I have been left a fortune by some long-lost acquaintance who elected to put me in their will for lack of someone of equal or greater awesomeness deserving of inheriting such a vast fortune. I just want a period of time when I catch a few breaks, and occassionally things might happen to turn out well for me. I'm just asking for a little while when I can know the sensation of not only standing on my own two feet, but to also feel like I'm doing well for myself. (And maybe be able to afford a vacation to someplace where I have never been before... I'd like that opportunity.)

=================================================

I am taking this rough spot as an opportunity to learn something about myself.

I figure if I'm going to have a rough spot, I might as well try and learn something from it.

I suppose that's the "make us stronger" part, huh?

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Learning from tough times is one of those thinge we do, I suppose... I mean sure, you can learn from the good times too. But the tough times are always a kind of crash course in the life lessons, aren't they? I hate that accelerated learning curve thing...

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I guess I'm just really hoping to get something out of this other than a piss poor credit score.

Later...

I wrote a real post.

Blogger ate it.

I got mad.

I gave up.

I decided it was time for bed instead of rewriting everything.

Check in later, I might have reconstructed it by late afternoon.

Then again, I might not.

You never know.

NEWS FLASH!

There is good news, and there is bad news in the land of Lizzle.

The good news is that I still have my health.

The bad news is that my health is not insured as a direct result of my being “let go” on Friday.

Oh… That being let go part? Yes, well, that’s also bad news, I suppose, isn’t it?

Yes, it’s true I’m afraid. Just as I began the motions necessary to totally, completely, and fully extricate myself from the guttural existence I had called home little more than a month ago, I have found myself cast back to square one.

What happened this time? Hell if I know. What I do know is that one of the more tolerable partners in the firm where I was employed pulled me into his office late Friday, (and for the record that line in “Office Space” is true, they do always do it on a Friday afternoon to prevent an incident… anyway,) and he let me know that while he knew I was still new to the job in general, and that despite that fact I was performing at about 80% of what they would fully want, (he noted that 80% was quite good given the time I’ve been there,) that I was still technically in the probationary period of employment. And that as such, and seeing that they are going into the winter slump of the real estate market’s typical flux, they figured that they could get by utilizing the other two admins they had, and rely on temps for extreme situations. Thus they save the pay they would normally issue to me, and since that “probationary period” was still in effect they could also get out of paying the finder’s fee to the woman who made the last month possible. (If any of that sounded familiar to you from the last time we went through this, I assure you that I too have noted the similarities, and I only wish I was making this entire thing up.)

So what did I do wrong?

I can’t really pin it down.

Did I sit and do my nails at my desk? No. That was one of the other admins. Did I screw up a mailing? Nope, that was the same admin busy doing her nails. Did I drop a phone call? Yes, but so did everyone else… The phones have been an issue for everyone lately in that office. (Mind you, I was also LEARNING the phone system.) Did I read magazines when I should have been doing filing, or copying, or something equally menial yet semi-productive? Nope. Once again, that was the admin/manicurist. Did I perform my puppet show for the wrong client? Nope… I didn’t even have a chance to finalize the script, or make key casting decisions. Did I come in late? Once, and I have the red line trains to thank for that one… And I did call as soon as I figured out I would be late. Did I spit in the boss’ coffee? No, although I did have motive and opportunity on that one... (I think I should get extra credit for not doing that!) Did I take personal calls at work? One, on my cell phone, on my birthday. The other girls spent HUGE chunks of their days on personal calls. And since we’re on the subject of phones, at this point, I would like to point out a HUGE disparity between the number of calls I took on a daily basis as opposed to the other two people who knew what the hell was going on. Not only did I not take personal calls, I fielded 95% of the incoming business calls to that office. At first I considered it a “trial by fire” type of deal where I was forced to learn the phone system through sheer volume, but after a couple of weeks, it became apparent that the phone duties had pretty much entirely passed to me. Ok, so what else is left? Did I steal from the company? Nope, even though I did have a day when I was handed over $100,000.00 in endorsed checks to deposit. Did I come in hung over, unkempt, and reeking of booze? Nope. Not once. I always showed up fully dressed, made-up, coiffed, aware, and prepared for the work day. I am willing to contend that the fact is that if there were any “unprofessional” behaviors which I engaged in, that I didn’t engage in any of them until I saw a standing precedent which led me to believe it was acceptable practice in this office. Basically when you’re working your butt off, and one admin is on a personal call, and the other is watching YouTube clips, you feel like your job is pretty secure… Apparently not.

Was I perfect? No. I’m not trying to pretend that I was. Was I doing my best to learn the way things were done at this particular office? Yes. Was I in any way acting with flagrant disregard for the way things worked there? I don’t think so. Despite the few mistakes I am more than willing to concede, I can’t think of anything deserving a dismissal... I think this was just another maneuver on the behalf of corporate America to save money at the expense of (low man on the pole,) Lizzle. In this case, not only do they save my salary, they also save the fee to the dear sweet woman who put me in touch with these … these … (Well…My momma taught me that if I couldn’t say anything nice about someone I shouldn’t say anything at all, and in the interest of listening to her, for once I’m not going to finish that sentence.)

And of course this would happen just after the purchase of my new winter coat… Mere hours after I removed the tags on my bargain.

And so I’ve spent this weekend alone, just trying to breathe, and think, and not wanting to feel this crap all over again and so I’ve been behaving like an alcoholic and drinking myself retarded in the evening hours so that I can get a full night’s sleep only so that I can get up in the morning and breathe and think and feel it again the next day… And come Monday, I am going to look down at my new place on square one, and I’m going to say, “Ok, here we go again. This is as good a place to start over as any, so LET’S GO BITCHES! LET’S THROW DOWN!"

A little love...

I must say, that I was touched by your comments on that last post. I'm glad that you all know I'm still around, even if I've had to resort to lurking. I'm glad you still love me, even when I don't love myself. And I love that you don't think I'm an asshole, even though I know better! You are all very sweet! (And no Brenda, as much as I do love you, I'm not doing your dishes! I don't even want to do my dishes on a daily basis. I only deal with mine because they are already here, and because I know if I don't deal with them they will stink up the place, and make me look like a hethen/slob to house guests... and that's part of being an adult isn't it? If you really don't want to do them that badly, then throw them all out, and go get a new set at Target! Thirty bucks, problem solved!)

And since I'm talking about love, and being an adult, and spending money, I'll go ahead and declare that today I decided that since I'm an adult, and I love myself enough, I was going to spend a little money on myself. (Forgive me here, this paragraph is all about my self-indulgence. I admit that you might call me a spoiled brat when you read what comes next, but I will shank you until you come to terms with the fact that I AM WORTH IT!) And so I bought myself a $600.00 cashmere coat. Because. I'm. worth. it! And I've been needing a full length coat for a long time. Those of you who know me well know that as much as I love myself, I didn't spend $600.00 on a coat. After all, I'm no celebrity, or trust fund baby, or the kept woman of some benevolent sugar daddy. (Although... now that I get to thinking about it, I need to really look into getting one of those for myself. I know I'm worth that!) No, I went shopping on my lunch break, and Nordstrom was having a tag sale. I got my beautiful new coat for 25% of the original price. Yeah. I got a full length cashmere coat for $150. And once again, I declared my supremacy over the retailers of the world. And let me tell you that $600.00 coat looks great and feels incredible on a girl who was about $30.00 from the bottom of the barrel a very short while ago. And to be honest, after going that long without being able to get anything for myself other than food (I use the term "food" loosely, because I am NOT lying when I tell you that I resorted to college food budgeting at a certain point fairly early on and bought a case of ramen noodles for $2.00 ... And I'm not entirely sure that ramen qualifies as food... but I digress,) anyway, I felt like a little self-indulgence on that first big paycheck was in order. (Wow, rereading over that paragraph is a total stream of consciousness experience.) Call me what you will. I will still call myself AWESOME! And now I'm AWESOME and WARM in my new coat.

Some of you out there are saying, "But Lizzle, you could have bought a much cheaper coat and given the rest of that money to charity!" And you're right. I could have bought a cheaper coat. But you're not going to find many full-length winter coats for less than $100. ...Well, you might, but then you're going to encounter at least one, if not both of the following problems; A) It's not going to be classically stylish and be out of style next year, or B) It's going to be poor quality and fall apart on you. Either way you're going to have to get another coat next year, and spend that charity money you had all socked away for those poor starving African kids, and so we're right back where we began. Only in my scenario, I look hot, and am staying warm now. Yeah, I win. Because like I've been telling you,

I'M AWESOME. (Which is why you kids keep coming back here!) Oh yeah, and for the record, I do charitable works too, I just don't make a big ordeal out of it, because I think charity should be because you want to do it, not because you want recognition for it.

I'm going to quit yammering on and wasting your Friday now.

Go play!

No, seriously, GO PLAY!

I feel like such an asshole...

I'm going to freely admit that I have slacked off lately. While I have been reading your blogs, I have not been commenting like I usually do.

To be honest, I've been running around like a damn fool trying to get my finances back on track, trying to rearrange my apartment, and clean up all the mess involved with that, trying to pare down some of the crap I've amassed since coming to Chicago, (for the record, that's FIVE YEARS of crap,) and trying to manage all that goes into being an adult, like laundry, dishes, trips to the grocery, cooking, cleaning, etc. And while some days are slow at work, other days have been HECTIC. As a result, I've been to exhausted to be witty, (as evidence, you have this less-than-polished post) and I really only like to post a comment if I honestly have something to say, and I can say it in a funny way.

I honestly can't explain how excited I am to "fall back" in like 10 days, if only so that I'll have a day with an extra hour in it!

I'm sorry guys. I'm really hoping next week will be better.

Oh and as for PR, I think Uli got robbed!

Not much to say...

I'm a tired baby, so I'm going to post some QOTDs and call it a night.

QOTD #1: Picture it, an average day at the office, and your usually-in-a-foul-mood boss is in an incredibly good mood. So good, in fact, that he walks into a meeting, and despite being a middle aged, Jewish, white guy, and looks at one of the guys in the meeting and says, "SUP, DOG?"

I nearly spit my coffee all over my computer.

QOTD #2:

Scott: "Did any of you watch the Bears last night?"
Liz: "I did."
Tie: "No."
Scott: "Oh yeah, Tie, what did you do?"
Tie: "I was asleep!"
Scott: "Wow, the suburbs are that lively, huh?"

Televised sports will be the death of me...

[With the noted exception of the NBA,] The Lizzle LOVES televised sports. (That's certainly no secret.)

So far this season, the Bears have been a joy to behold. And Monday night... When the game was nationally broadcast? Uhh, yeah, not such a joy anymore. In fact, for the first three quarters, it was bordering on downright grueling to watch. It was just plain UGLY!

Touted to be the BEST team in the NFL, the Bears were being absolutely manhandled by the ARIZONA CARDINALS!

THE ARIZONA FREAKIN' CARDINALS!
(In case you couldn't tell, my voice got really loud and really high on that last bit!)

Honestly, I think they know exactly what they are doing when they build me up only to gleefully tear me down. SONS OF BITCHES!

And in that last quarter? They rip me from the depths of despair and put me on cloud nine with an absolutely INCREDIBLE miraculous win.

But I am still bitter that they played such shoddy football for the first three quarters. There is NO EXCUSE for that. You hear me? NO EXCUSE! NONE!

Speaking of Chicago sports news that displeases me immensely, the Cubs inked a 3 year deal with Lou Piniella. Yet another groan-inducing move to be tabulated in the KING BONEHEAD column. Honestly, it's the Cubs. I should have seen this coming from miles and miles away. Hell, I should have called it back at the all-star break... We're just that predictable when it comes to making dumb moves. Further compounding the groan factor, there are rumors that Piniella wants to aggressively pursue Alex Rodriguez... UGHHHHHH. Part of my soul just died.

Based on what you've read so far, I'm betting that I am probably coming off as a really embittered sports fan, aren't I?

I'd say that's fair. But in the interest of portraying myself accurately, I'll paint the picture for you.

First off, I have sports loyalties. I own them, and I stick to my guns. If I call a team to win, and they end up losing, I fully admit my error. I will not back-track for the sake of saving face. It's important that you know this. It's a big part of being a real sports fan.

About a half an hour before the game, we turn on the pregame show... Less for the arbitrary pregame commentary, and more to see how everyone looks before things get underway, and to get the latest scoop on the most recent round of suspensions, injuries, and criminal charges. (I wish I was kidding about that "criminal charges" thing, but unfortunately, I'm deadly serious.)

About two minutes before the kickoff/tipoff/first pitch/whatever opening to whatever sporting event is in question, I grab some kind of alcoholic beverage and I make sure that I take care of any necessary pregame bathroom trip. I get comfortable, and the game gets under way. I then spend the first half of the game watching, cursing at the television in the event of a stupid play, and yelping and whooping when things go well. I also spend the first half of most any game sulking and hating sports announcers.

Why do I hate sports announcers? I'll tell you. I understand that a part of their job is to more or less impartially narrate the events of the game, but that doesn't sit well with me for one reason. The reason being that they NEVER remain impartial, and they base their partiality solely on the score of the game at that moment. You think John Kerry was known for the "flip-flop" during the last presidential campaign? Apparently you've never heard professional sportscasters announce a game with a lead change. If you're watching a game where the teams are mismatched, and the favorite has an early lead, you hear them say, "Oh we all expected this," or "There was never any question that they were going to come out and play this way..." But as soon as the underdog makes a few plays and turns it all around they try and back out of everything they have been saying all game long by throwing something out like, "Oh we knew that if they could make the plays despite being the underdog there was no way that they couldn't make a game of it and end up winning this thing!" Bullshit! If you're going to broadcast your bias, stick to your guns! Don't welch on what you said ten minutes ago strictly because of a change on the scoreboard! ...And the rest of the time they quote stupid stats that nobody cares about, trying to make every game extraordinary. They always find a "first" that happened in this particular game. Word to the wise: I hate to be the one to break it to you guys, but some games are not anything special. It's not that big of a deal. And this is coming from a raging sports fan.

That said, I have a tendency to spend at least the first half of the game wondering why I have the volume audible at all. About 80% of the time I do leave the volume where it is though. (If they piss me off enough to push it into that 20% you can bet that they do get the mute button.

The second half? (Or the late innings) I am usually grumbling and cursing profusely if things aren't going my way. Depending on the importance of the game, if things are going my way, I'm either leaning back and cracking another cold one, or crouched on the edge of my seat watching intently, and in the event of a big play in a big game you can bet my retarded ass is jumping up and down, hollering and screaming, "RUN MOTHER F#*KER! RUNNNNN!!!!!"

Yeah, I'm that obnoxious brand of sports fan who expects there to be little to no conversation during a game. And when there is talk, it better be about the game, or you will be leaving the room, either because I gave you a stare-down that indicates your safety has been compromised by your chatter, or because I will physically be tossing you out a window. Yeah, I'm that sports fan. If you don't like it, I suggest you go read a book in a different zip code, for at least the duration of the game.

I swear these televised sports are going to give me an aneurysm, or a massive heart attack, something sudden and unpleasant... It's less a question of how and more a matter of when...

A Change of Space for a Change of Pace...

Contrary to what the title would indicate, I'm not going to go all Dr. Seuss on you... Although, maybe I should, because that guy made some serious bank talking about frickin' a cat in a frickin' hat. I could frickin' do that... (OK, ENOUGH!)

In case you didn't notice, I took a little hiatus from writing. It wasn't a particularly long hiatus, but for someone who usually posts something EVERY SINGLE DAY, (sometimes two or three times a day,) a four day break is kind of note worthy.

Friday I celebrated my birthday with a couple of friends. It wasn't a late night or anything, just dinner and drinks, but it was nice. (I did drink enough to place a couple of drunk dials... my apologies to you kids, you know who you are.)

Saturday I did a WHOLE LOT of nothing. And that was the case for much of Sunday as well.

Sunday evening was a different story though.

About midday I got to thinking that something was amiss. I thought and thought about it, and realized what it was. Despite having a job now, part of me was still firmly lodged in that old rut. But why?

And then I had it. I realized that while I am making a livable income, I had simply exchanged one thing for another, and left the rest of my life alone. I exchanged the job search for the job. And for the first few weeks, that alone was enough. It's not enough now. The rest of my life stayed the same. And that was a problem.

In my unemployment days I became accustomed to doing nothing with much of my time. (Doing nothing costs nothing, thus the appeal, and thus the rut.) I realized that I had become comfortable with nothing. I got used to coming home at the end of a day, having a meal, and going to sleep, only to get up in the morning and do it all over again. Weekends spent doing nothing at all... After so long it got REALLY comfortable in that rut. And today I realized that in the process of getting comfortable there, I lost something of myself. And the part I was rapidly losing touch with was all that same part of me that was once fun. I was watching it ride away into the sunset... And we all know that I couldn't let that happen. Sure I'm ok with staying in from time to time, I am perfectly capable of entertaining myself, but the fact is that while my time alone was once cherished and productive, now almost totally sedentary and miserable. Hell, I even put off doing my laundry for three weeks simply because I knew I could get away with it. And today, the gravity of that hit me like a ton of bricks.

Upon realizing this, I decided some change was in order. And I needed to make a BIG change in a BIG way... And I needed it NOW. So what did I do? I rearranged my furniture.

My bed used to be pushed against a wall in the corner. I saw this as a large part of my problem. I have my reasons for thinking this... I won't bore you with them.

So I moved my bed to the middle of a different wall. I moved other furniture too. (And yes, I moved it all by myself, because like I've said before, I'm hardcore about my independence like that.)

I figured changing things around in my apartment might be the starting point to changing my overall situation. I like my apartment. (I mean for the money I pay, I'd be stupid not to like it.) I don't want to move. I've had enough moving for a while. (This is yet another reason I was so vehemently opposed to moving home.) But the change was necessary.

Basically, I decided I've got to get my act together and I think this was a step in the right direction. (And yes, I finally did my laundry too!)

Why I'm an awful person...

Bound for hell for sure, today I said something that surely signed the mortgage papers for a few more acres in hell...

Upon hearing the news about the small plane flying into a building in New York, I joked that "We can't be doing this on the 11th of every month. Especially considering I'm an 11th day baby! It pulls the focus off of me on my birthday, and that just can't happen!" I TOTALLY MEANT IT AS A JOKE. (Because, in case you can't tell from the birthday posts, I really didn't give a damn about my birthday.)

Upon further discussion, and finding out it was a Yankee pitcher who flew the plane into the building, I truly sealed my firey hellish fate...

I said, "Well, hell, he must've been really beating himself up about losing in the playoffs. I don't think getting trounced by the Tigers was worth flying a plane into a building over, but what do I know?"

And then I compounded the searing hell fire by adding, "Well if his pitching aim was as bad as his flying aim, I guess it's not such a surprise that they're out of the playoffs."

God I'm such an insensitive asshole.

Go ahead and judge me. I said it. I own it.

LET THEM EAT CAKE!!!

The lizzle didn't celebrate her birthday on birthday proper this year.

(Does anyone here think it's odd that I talk about myself in third person? Because as weird as it seemed in the beginning, I've grown strangely comfortable with it... AAAANYWAY...)

At work today there I received a lovely flower arrangement. The card was not signed, but since only a few people have my work address, I'm pretty sure I know where they came from. And for the record, I love them. They are beautiful. (I'll take a picture for you kids, so that you get to share in the joys of my birthday!)

As for my birthday in the office, I spent ALLLLLLLL DAAAAAAAAY working on a mailing that was already two days overdue, because ... Well, we won't get into why it was overdue, but I'll just say that I did it all. Researching, typing, printing, copying, collating, folding, stuffing, stamping, labelling, and sealing... Multiply that by 220 pieces, add that to fielding phone calls, e-mails, and faxes, typing up fresh correspondence, and getting those out, and well, that's the lizzle's birthday in a nutshell. And then she got home, had a glass of wine and a sandwich, and watched Project Runway and Six Feet Under. And you know what? I'm ok with that!

(Speaking of PR, how hot is this scandal? My bet is that Jeffrey will be allowed to show obviously, but officially, he isn't or wasn't in contention to actually win. And I LOVE IT!)

Tomorrow the office is getting me an ice cream cake, (because of a petty cash oversight, it was delayed a day, and that's ok with me.) I'll take a picture of that too!

And now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to round out my birthday with a hot shower (complete with my fabric-softener-smelling hair care products,) another glass of wine, and a nice long sleep in my big beautiful bed.

GOODNIGHT MY LOVELIES!

(Thanks for all the birthday wishes! You kids are so sweet!)

Well, there's that...

Another year older, and none the wiser...

Yep.

Today is the Lizzle's birthday.

Not anything to get excited about.

I was talking to my mom about my birthday, and she wanted to know where the time has gone. Hell if I know. As far as I'm concerned mom is still 37, and I am still the tender age of 5.

Not much has changed since my fifth birthday. I still play with play doh, I still finger paint. I still sing when I don't think anyone is listening, and get shy when I find that they are listening. I still imagine a perfect world, despite any evidence to the contrary. I still don't like my big brother. I still think he's a meanie, and a poop. I still listen to the music I listened to back then, and I still love it just as much now. I still love to put my hand out the car window and make an "airplane" in the wind. And I still think about the "puke-berries" outside the library whenever I see a gingko tree. I still love to listen to other people tell me stories, no matter how wild and unrealistic they might be. I still keep myself and my friends amused by telling those stories where everyone takes a turn adding a sentence.

Sure I don't live at home anymore, and I pay my own bills. Sure I can now bake cookies without help... But I still sneak a little bit of dough, just because I can, and I still often throw other stuff in there just because it might be neat to try it out, and see what happens.

I still look at the world with the same wide-eyed curiosity that I did all those years ago. I still dance and play all alone in my room. I still occasionally catch Saturday morning cartoons. I still laugh at my own jokes, even when nobody else thinks they are funny. I cracked myself up then... And just like everything else, not much has changed.

And momma? Momma is just the same too! You know when you're little, and you think your mom is the most beautiful, incredibly awesome woman in the world, and you're constantly amazed because SHE KNOWS EVERYTHING? And that you would do anything to show her how much you love her? Well, I'm announcing here and now that she is still every bit as beautiful and wonderful now as I thought she was at five. If anything I only think more of her as the greatest mom in the world, because now I have years of proof to back me up. And yes, momma still DOES KNOW EVERYTHING!

I still don't have that pony I wished for on my birthday candles all those years ago... (And that I kinda secretly wished for again every year since, including last year.) I had a suicidal fish back then, and I had one this year too. Like I said... Aside from the date, not much has changed.

I'm still smarter than most of the kids my age. I still think boys are smelly... But I still know that I eventually want to find a good one and marry him someday. I still only have one or two best friends who know all my secrets... And I still think the best time you can have is a sleepover when all those secrets come out to be traded and examined.

I suppose you could say I'm just waxing nostalgic for days gone by. But then again, there is a certain truth to the nostalgia. The fact remains that the time has passed. There have been immeasurable sums of joy and pain since I was five. There have been incredible victories in the face of great odds, and there have been crushing defeats despite the best chances, and the best intentions. There have been tears, and tests, and errors in judgment. But there have also been delights, elations, and amusements, and chances taken that led to good ends. There have been deaths, and new lives. Promises made and broken, promises made and kept.

Yeah, I'm another year older, but not that much has changed...

I'm ripping people off now...

The Idle Receptionist composed a post in which she talked about ten songs in her musical shuffle... I don't have a whole lot to tell you, so I'm gonna rip her off and talk about 10 songs that play consecutively on my itunes.

• "Walking In Memphis" - Pat McGee - A remake of the of the original by Mark Cohn that was popularized in the early 90s. Back when the original was kinda big I LOVED THIS SONG! I know that as a kid I was digging on some serious power ballads and cheesy tunes that were really at their peak, but the original version of this song has always stuck with me... I love this version as well, and I have sought out other people's covers of this tune... Few are as successful as this one. I dig it.
• "Wild Horses" - The Rolling Stones - One of the greatest bands of all time to be sure, (if only for the sake of longevity... I mean REALLY!) This is one of those tunes that has been popularized largely by covers done by other bands... The original is incredible, but in all honesty, I also love to hear it sung by a female vocalist. It's one of those tunes that sticks with you.
  
• "Bartender" - Keri Noble - Not one of those tunes that you would hear on mainstream radio... And that's an unfortunate oversight on behalf of pop culture. A truly talented singer, using the song to tell her story of woe to a bartender/listener. Just amazing.
• "Space Oddity/ Ground Control to Major Tom" - David Bowie - There really is no explanation necessary is there? Well, if there is, then suffice it to say that classic Bowie just really does it for the Lizzle no matter what mood she's in. PERIOD.
• "If You're Gonna Be Dumb..." - Roger Alan Wade - This is as close to country as I will ever get. EVER. (Ever so slightly,) popularized by the first Jackass movie this tune was an anthem for the Lizzle in tougher times... Because the Lizzle is notoriously dumb in certain situations. If you don't have this one, track it down. You might have a tough time finding it on it's own, but it's worth the effort, if only because it's just a fun song!
  
• "Feels Like Rain" - Aaron Neville - Bluesy, slow-dancing perfection. Pretty much what we've all come to expect from Aaron Neville. And we all know that the one thing that the Lizzle wants is just to slow dance in the middle of the living room with a decent boy... This would be one of those perfect songs for that occasion, which seems destined never to come to pass. It's a shame.
• "Candlelight" - Imogen Heap - Heavily piano-driven, with a compliment of strings and a strangely haunting voice that you might be familiar with from the band "Frou Frou." Imogen Heap is one of those people who you either really dig, or you really don't. Personally, I dig it.
• "Nothing Left to Lose" - Mat Kearney - Another one of those male-vocalized semi-emo-but-kind-of-not type of tunes. I love it. Deal with it.
• "Crazy Mary" - Eddie Vedder - I found this song by accident a couple of years ago. And I have been hooked ever since. Yeah, I am a Pearl Jam fan anyway, but seriously, if you can't find this song, find me, and I'll give it to you!!!
  
• "Pink" - Aerosmith - What? This is one of my favorites in an extensive Aerosmith collection! I mean if you don't smile at the lyric, "Pink, it's like red, but not quite," then you just have no soul... YOU HEAR ME? YOU HAVE NO SOUL!
• BONUS TRACK: "Lay Me On the Water" - Gavin DeGraw - If you like anything by Gavin DeGraw, you'll like this song. Though not widely known, it's my favorite Gavin DeGraw song. When I saw him in concert he played the opening bars during one of his interludes... And I about peed my pants with excitement. Turns out he was only teasing me. He didn't play it. But he still put on a damn good show... By far one of the most enthusiastic, playful, and energetic musicians I've ever had the privilege of seeing live. And a damn fine slow tune.
  

My itunes keeps pulling out all the stops... Continually picking awesome tracks and making me wish I could believe that you kids were interested at all by this post thus prolonging it well beyond the promised 10 tracks... If you like any of what I just mentioned and are curious about getting a closer look at the musical taste of the Lizzle, let me know, I'll give you some further recommendations... I love stuff that is not big on pop radio, but still manages to speak volumes if you're willing to listen.

In other news, I have switched shampoos, and right now I am vaguely amused by the fact that my hair currently smells a little like Downy fabric softener...

WTF?

I've just got to ask... Why the hell does Wentworth Miller of "Prison Break" fame look like he just came from christening his schooner? Did he call it the "Flying Wasp?" (I really hope you all got the reference there.)

Knocking it out of the park...

Ok, here's a question for you.

You kids are pretty damn funny, I know because I read your stuff, and for the lurkers and folks who don't offer up reading material (selfish assholes! ...Kidding,) I either know you personally, or I know that you have enough of a sense of humor to keep coming back here, so I know I'm safe asking this here. Do you folks ever have periods of time when you are just on a total comedic hot streak? A period where you are just comically "En fuego!"?

Friday night, after battling my cramps all day at work, I went with a friend to watch a college volleyball game. From the time of about 6PM to around 11, I was hitting a true comedic stride. I could do no wrong. Everything that anyone said neatly segued into a joke for me. Every time I opened my mouth the jokes just poured out. It was an unstoppable river. And they were GOOD jokes too. I haven't the foggiest idea where the jokes came from... There was even a joke about Yemen in there! Seriously, when was the last time you even THOUGHT about the country of Yemen, let alone cracked a joke mentioning Yemen? Yeah, that's what I thought... It doesn't happen frequently.

I am not trying to toot my own horn here, but I think on average, I'm pretty funny. I know that I do make my fair share of jokes that are cornier than a post-thanksgiving dinner BM, but there are plenty of quality, original jokes to make up for those genuinely awful ones. (Side note: Speaking of Thanksgiving, happy turkey day to my Canadian readers!) But this was a big night even for me! It was one of those rare times when you could just feel the energy, and there was just no stopping me. It's like when a baseball player has an outstanding game out in the field, and then gets to the plate and ends up batting a cycle. It doesn't happen often. And no matter how much practice time you get in, there is just no explanation as to why the cosmos aligned the way they did or if the gravitational pull of Jupiter spun the earth imperceptibly off its axis just long enough to allow events to unfold the way they did... No telling really.

I just know that I had at least one reliable witness to the events, so there is no dispute that they did actually transpire. And when I mentioned the fact that I was really feeling the comedic groove, she agreed. There really was no dispute. I mean a joke about Yemen? REALLY? Was there really any lingering doubt in your mind? I didn't think so.

Whatever it was, I wish I could bottle it and use it in small doses as needed... You know, when the comedy well looks as though it's running dry. I wish there were some kind of reliable way to at least predict when it will happen, so I know how to plan my evenings!

Does anyone else know what I'm talking about? Does this ever happen to anyone else?

Miserable...

I have cramps from hell right now... I seriously almost threw up all over my desk because I was hurting so bad at work today.

I wish I could just call in sick tomorrow, because I know they will be worse tomorrow. But alas it's too soon, and one of the other admins already asked for tomorrow off. UGH.

Could someone just shoot me please? That would just be the icing on the cake.

I'm supposed to have a houseguest this weekend, but I haven't heard back from her, and I haven't cleaned or done laundry, so I ... Oh hell, who am I kidding? I don't know what the hell is going on anymore.

Please excuse me while I curl up in the fetal position and pray for a quick end to my exploding ovaries that will undoubtedly never come.

A couple of things...

First off, a quick note about my home, and a science question.

This evening I went into my kitchen. I found the trash can full and decided to take it out to the dumpster. I began to tie the garbage bag closed only to find a sudden flood of fruit flies coming out at me. (Now, before you judge, I do take my trash out regularly, so don't think I'm living in filth or anything... like I said, they were in my trash can, and the trash does go out regularly.) I guess this week I just had something that seemed particularly attractive to the fruit flies that I threw out, thus the presence of them hanging out in my trash can without any noted presence anywhere else in my apartment. But since a bunch flew out as I closed the bag, I am seeing them elsewhere, but I don't leave food out in the open, so they don't have anything to feed on and will soon be gone. I hope.

Science question: Where the hell do the fruit flies come from? I mean they weren't there before, and then BAM! They are hanging out all over my discarded produce. Do they spontaneously materialize when the gods note that you throw out a couple apple cores and a rotten tomato? And secondly, is there any quick way to be rid of them?

Ok, moving on...

I think it would be fun to share my new office with you! So here are some pictures with an explaination of what you're looking at!

First off, several companies have been doing some strange promos down by my new office. I must say I felt pretty bad for this poor guy... I mean they dressed him up like a giant toilet brush! My first question was "WHY IS THERE A NINE FOOT TALL TOILET BRUSH STANDING THERE!?!?" (That question was soon answered.) But my second, and probably more important question is, who the hell thinks, "Hey! I think I need to design and fabricate a giant toilet brush costume!" and who the hell says, "Hey, we need to buy a giant toilet brush costume! This is going to be a versatile tool for us!" really? Who does this?


My first question was answered when the guy handed me this flyer: The answer, a resounding NO!


Once we get into the building and take a little elevator ride up, and a little walk down the hall, you come to the lobby of my office. My office takes an interesting approach to the lobby concept. Yeah, there is some seating on both sides of the lobby, (you can't really see the area on the right.) And yes there is interesting art on the walls. And yes there are a couple of plants. But the first thing that most people notice are the little "windows." Go to the window on the right, and you get to talk to Jamie. She's lovely. Go to the window on the left and you get the Lizzle! And well, you all know about the Lizzle!

This is where the Lizzle actually does her work. It doesn't look like much, but there are some personal touches in there that have been cut off. See my window? Yeah, I am so thinking about putting on puppet shows for corporate guests!


This is one of the views from my office conference room. It's Daley Plaza... Home of the famous Picasso sculpture.


This is a view looking another direction from the conference room. That's State Street down there... and I don't care what ANYBODY says, that store down there on the corner is Marshall Field's. As a Chicagoan, I couldn't respect myself if I didn't say this. IT WILL ALWAYS BE MARSHALL FIELD'S! ALWAYS!


I hope you've enjoyed our little photographic tour! This concludes our show for today. Please comment and exit in an orderly fashion.

Thank you. Have a nice day.

Ladies and gentlemen, it's time for the return of the Lizzle rant...

What's that you say? It'’s been WAY too long since we've had an all-out rant… Well, hells bells... Today I've got a doozie for you! Get comfortable. Make a quick run to the potty, or to get a beverage now, because you're going to be here a while.

Once upon a time, I was an innocent college student, looking to open a new checking account in her new home city, so that she might have the convenience of not having to drive the six hours back to my hometown to get to a bank branch. Those sneaky bastards at Chase, (still Bank One back when I first decided to go with them,) suckered me in with some promotional ploy. They acted as though they were my friends and allies in the financial world. A lot of you out there are shaking your heads and saying, "Oh, Lizzle, you naive little girl! You should have known better! They were not your allies! They just wanted your business! They were only nice because they wanted control of your money!" Well, the truth of the matter is that back when they were still Bank One they really were my allies. They treated me well, and I was happy to do business with them. And then the EVIL mega-corporation Chase Manhattan came along. And. Chase. Ruined. Everything.

In the time since the hostile takeover, I have never been 100% pleased with Chase. I began seeing fees on my account that I had not agreed to. I began having problems with my internet banking services. Over the course of the many months since the buyout, I saw very little that pleased me. But nothing so severe to warrant needing to change banks and go through the hassles it would entail... And then my first payday at my new job rolled around. Payday was last Friday. And I'm still waiting to see my money. And to hear Chase tell the story, I will likely be waiting for at least another week before I see a dime. Never mind that I worked hard for my money, and that I earned it fair and square. That's clearly not important. Or more specifically, it's not important TO THEM. Because as someone who is trying to financially stabilize herself after 5 months of juggling and instability, I sure as hell know it'’s important TO ME!

Over the course of the last week I have seen my patience wear incredibly thin. And within the last few days, I have been driven into a seething rage. Oh yes, the Lizzle is seething with rage! Can you feel it? Can you feel the rage? It'’s palpable, isn't it?

You know that kind of laughter where you're laughing so hard that you go into "silent mode" and you are laughing without making any noise, and it quickly becomes hard to breathe? Ok well that was me... Only instead of laughter, substitute a deep, intense, furious rage.

Yeah, I made it all the way to rage-silent-mode! It has gotten that bad. BELIEVE IT.

It all started on Friday. I got my paycheck and headed over to the bank. "Hello, I'd like to make a deposit."

"Ok, here you go. Have a nice weekend."” ** Please take a moment to note that there was not any kind of special notice of any financial issues given at this time There was no mention of any kind of problem with my account, so I was under the impression that all was well.**

No rage present on the rage-o-meter. None at all. All was pleasant; gumdrops, rainbows, and ponies galloping in a sun-drenched meadow.

Fast forward to Saturday: Lizzle goes to the grocery. Lizzle shops for everything she needs. Lizzle goes up to the cashier. Cashier rings everything up. Lizzle hands over her debit card to pay. Cashier swipes and declines the debit card. Lizzle, now a little embarrassed and flustered asks cashier to try again, because that simply cannot be. Two tries later, Lizzle heads over to the ATM to see what's going on.

BALANCE $0.00

Staring at the ATM reciept, I audibly said, "“UHHHHHH... THAT'S NOT FUCKING FUNNY!"

The seed of rage is planted.

Lizzle calls Chase'’s number on the back of the debit card. Their automated system is being overhauled. Please try your call again later.

"BULLSHIT! THIS IS SUCH TOTAL BULLSHIT!"

The seed of rage begins to take root... (And the rage grows quickly once the roots take hold!)

The Chase branch nearest to Lizzle's home is open for a couple of hours on Sundays. No doubt those operating hours are financed with the funds those bitches have been stealing from me lately, but I digress.

Sunday morning rolls around. Even though the branch was open, before bothering the busy personnel inside Lizzle tries the Chase ATM first, to see if there was perhaps something wrong with the card itself, or perhaps a problem with the ATM from a different bank at the grocery store.

A balance inquiry shows a measly little balance, but a balance none the less.

Lizzle examines receipt: "“This CAN'’T be right. I just deposited WAAAAY more than that on Friday." --Lizzle must consult someone about this, so she goes into the bank branch.

Teller: "Yeah, your account was overdrawn, you were charged the overdraft fee, and the negative balance, and that'’s what you have left."”

"You mean to tell me I had $400.00 in overdrafts and fees? UHH, NO. I'’m sorry, but NO."

Teller: "“Well, a manager could show you how that happened, but that'’s the balance."

"“FINE. I. WILL. SPEAK. TO. A. MANAGER."

The rage has been fertilized and begins to perk up a bit.

I'’ll compress the conversation with the manager. Suffice it to say that one of my student loans was on an automatic payment plan, and the payment had gone through and put me into the negative a little while back, but I had overdraft protection that for some unknown reason didn't kick in, and they had since been charging me $30 a day for being overdrawn. (THIRTY DOLLARS A DAY!) It was their fault the overdraft protection was not in effect, so they put the $400 worth of fees back into the account. ** Again please note that I talked directly to a person who physically sat across a desk, not three feet from me, and again there was no mention of any kind of problem with my account, other than to say that they screwed something up and were willing to put my money back. This is important.**

Sunday evening, a few hours after dealing with the bank manager I go back to the grocery. I'’ll condense this too. Suffice it to say that this trip went EXACTLY like the last trip. That means that I have been to the grocery and done all my shopping TWICE now, and I still don't have anything to show for it aside from a massive slice of humble pie with a thick slathering of embarrassment meringue. And that particular kind of pie is not very filling, I don'’t mind telling you.

I figured that since I had made the original deposit on Friday evening, that there was a chance that it wouldn't post until Monday. Fine. I'’ve got just enough cash to get me through until then.

Monday comes and I go to the ATM after work to get cash because I'll be damned if someone is going to turn my card down at the grocery again. The ATM spat out not money, but a receipt. INSUFFICIENT FUNDS. Balance $0.00

THIS. IS SO. NOT. FUCKING. FUNNY.

Rage is getting in some time at the gym...

Rage is seriously considering a career change into body building...

And since it was after work on Monday the bank branch was closed. So I call that number on the back of my card again to see exactly what's going on. I talk to a very nice woman who tells me that yes, while I had TECHNICALLY made the deposit on Friday, it was dated with Monday'’s date, so it would go through with the over-night transactions and it would be available to me on Tuesday. ** ONCE AGAIN, note that there is no mention of a problem with the account.** I am confused as to why the money didn'’t go into the account during the work day on Monday, because lord knows I'’ve been at work all damn day, what the hell were the bitches at Chase doing? After all, that money has been there since FRIDAY. FUH-RYYYYY-DAAAAAAY.

Rage is present, but stable because of halfway rational explaination.

"FINE."

Tuesday: Noon. I call the automated number to make sure that my money is there so that I can buy myself a lunch. I am getting the run around from the recording which at no point will tell me my account balance.

Rage turns a burner on low-simmer.

I dial the operator extension. A woman tells me that my account has been closed.

I.

BEG.

YOUR.

PARDON?

"I DIDN'’T CLOSE THE ACCOUNT! THERE HAS BEEN SOME KIND OF HORRENDOUS MISTAKE!"

RAGE IS CURRENTLY FIRING ON ALL CYLINDERS. (Rage is simultaneously tempered by utter disbelief.)

She transfers me to another department. "“Uhh, yeah, that account was closed because you were overdrawn for a while."

"“Well that's really funny, because the overdraft and subsequent fees were YOUR FAULT, I had overdraft protection which you all didn't seem to care about, I made a deposit on Friday, I had the assorted bogus charges removed on Sunday, and now you'’re telling me that my account was closed?"

"Yup."

"Well where the hell is my money, because I know I didn't withdraw all of it and close the account myself."

"You'’d have to go to a branch to find that out ma'’am."

On my lunch break, I go to the Chase Bank Building. A mere block from my office. The perpetual three year old that resides somewhere in the nether regions of my brain clicked on. I am fully prepared to throw a screaming, crying temper tantrum. I go to a teller. Teller tells me "Yup the account is closed." She doesn'’t know where my money is. I'd better try a customer service rep.

So I stand in another line. I explain my situation once more. Customer service rep tells me, "Yup, account was closed. Nope, I don't know where your money is, but hang on, I'’ll make a call and find out." FINALLY! Someone who can at least get me a definitive answer.

She calls the national headquarters. They tell her to inform me that they will be holding my money hostage until the paycheck from my office clears. This can take anywhere from a week to ten days. Once the check clears they will issue a check to me at their convenience. I should call next Thursday to find out when I should expect the check.

Rage has boiled over, and robbed me of my dignity. I know this, because I proceeded to walk outside and then spent the next 15 minutes of my lunch break standing on the sidewalk outside of the Chase building, IN TEARS, snivelling, and calling my mom. I am not kidding you when I tell you I was such a wreck that a homeless guy offered me a napkin to dry my tears. (I politely declined.)

After a brief conversation with momma, I regained most of my composure. I then literally walked right across the street and opened a new checking account with a competing financial institution using the last of the money from the first checking account I ever had, all the way back in my hometown. And my new bank was so happy to see me walking across the street from Chase, that they gave me a $50 gift card just for the hell of it. (And because I set up direct deposit... But I like to think it's just because they love me, and I'm pretty even if I had been crying mere minutes before.)

I then proceeded to go back to my office and use the last 5 minutes of my lunch hour eating a piece of buttered toast, which was all that I had available to me because I wasn't counting on eating at the office, but rather being able to pay for lunch elsewhere, but as we all know, that didn't happen.

And sometime next week I should, emphasis on SHOULD see my money.

Moral of the story: Chase Manhattan Bank will rob you blind, and they won't do you any favors or make any apologies about any of it.

Second, yet equally important moral of the story: Just because you don't know the faceless masses behind a corporataion personally, don't ever underestimate their ability to make your life hell for a while.

Here endeth the story.

MAAAAAA-KIN' COP-IEEEEEEES!

You all remember that spectacularly annoying SNL sketch, right? The one starring a spectacularly young Rob Schneider as the annoying asshole in the copy room. Don't lie! You know you remember.

Yeah, well, today being a religious holiday for some folks at the office, a sick day for a couple more, and generally slow for the rest of us... When the little Asian accountant that works in my office, who was neither sick, nor observing the religious holiday, comes over to my desk and asks what I'm doing, I really didn't have anything to tell her. It was so slow I couldn't even make anything up. And so she plops 11 of the thickest file folders I have EVER seen ANYWHERE onto my desk. ELEVEN! ... I mean we're talking Kenneth Starr sized files.

I knew that this is what I had to do, because as the low person on the totem pole, a girl has to pay her dues.

So, I asked her what she wanted me to do with these obnoxiously large files. The answer? Make two copies of everything, keep it all in order and assembled the way it is now, and messenger the two copies over to people who apparently needed to see these files desperately.

Believe me when I tell you that I am not exaggerating in the least when I tell you that I spent all but 45 minutes of my work day back in the copy room, tediously disassembling, copying and reassembling these files back into their original format, but in triplicate. And that 45 minutes I got to spend outside the copy room? Spent counting pages of the largest files to make sure all of the pages were accounted for.

Sound like a real treat? Oh it was!

Now I'm not complaining, because I know that I was paid well just to push a button on a machine and then just sort and paper clip all the pages it spat out, but the fact is that while I was back in the copy room, you know what one of my fellow admins was doing? She spent the day on MySpace. Yeah, like I said, I know it's all about me paying my dues right now.

That's really all I have to report right now, and I know it's intensely boring, but I am intensely sleepy and that's the best I can mange!

I'll catch you on the flipside!

People wonder why I hate my hometown so much...

It's no secret that I think of my hometown with a great deal of disdain. It's by no means a "small town." With a population in the low 6 figure range it's a small city. Many people from towns with populations of 346, or say, even 9,000 would love to live in Evansville. They think of it as a lovely little metropolis. (They think this largely because they have never ventured far from their own little hamlets, and thus have no idea what a real city is.) But I digress...

I was trolling away messages of friends this evening, and I happened upon a link to this article. (NO, REALLY, read it!!!) Please overlook the typos, all that new-fangled technology like "spell check" or "grammar check" apparently was not even considered, let alone utilized. (They fear and scorn all that high-fallutin' tek-nol-a-gee.)

What scares the bejesus out of me is that though the article was written as a tongue in cheek commentary on the sad state of affairs that is the downtown area of my hometown, I have no doubt that there are people out there who think it's totally serious, and that this is an idea they really should consider.

It really is a miracle I left there with as much perspective on the wide world as I have. I think it's such a gross understatement to say that I never fit in down there. I have no qualms about telling you that if it weren't for my few remaining family ties down there, I would have no issue at all with disavowing any and all knowledge of my hometown. I mean I keep saying I left for a reason... People don't believe me.

Umm... I forgot?

Something has come to my attention. I could just blurt it out to you right this second, but that would be far too easy... We're going to ease into this, because a little suspense never hurt anyone.

I know that you all are sick of hearing about the time I spent hunting for a job, but I really do think this is related.

(Hang on a second, I need to go grab another beer.)

...

...

...

(Ahhhhh, much better!)

Ok, so today whilst I was going about my business, I called to catch up with some people. It was while I was on the phone with one of them that I had this VERY sudden realization.

You see, when you are faced with the prospect of moving back to your hometown, (where, mind you, the only appealing feature is getting to see your beloved momma everyday, and occasionally grabbing a beer with your miscreant, idiot, prodigal brother,) well... staring down the wrong end of that gun barrel, pursuing every possible way to garner a stay of execution becomes your all-consuming goal. And thus you would be willing to tell a prospective boss that you could turn straw into gold, or that you posses equally impressive magical abilities that warrant you being put on the payroll.

Being entirely too wrapped up in dealing with those issues is bad enough. Compound the learned self-aggrandizement from that scenario with the fact that as a result of being jobless you have to pinch every last penny for 5 months until you finally see that first paycheck. Budgetary living like that means that you forego ALL the normal social activities you normally engage in, because you want to be able to afford luxuries like eating, and sleeping somewhere other than an alley for the next week.

So, you spend all week wrapped up in yourself, trying to tell potential bosses how great you are all day every day. (At the end of the day you sure as hell don't believe any of the crap you just said to any of them, but you know you've got to make the convincing sell when you're in there, so given enough time, you do actually fool yourself into delusions of grandeur for a while...) And then in the evenings and on weekends, you don't go out and you don't do anything. You don't interact with other people. EVER. (Because in the big city, nothing is free.)

Let me tell you that after 5 months of that kind of environment, one literally forgets how to behave. I'm not kidding. Seriously. Hear me out here.

You spend FIVE MONTHS, living virtually as a hermit. And on the rare occasion that you do get out, you're using the opportunity to talk yourself up to a stranger. That's roughly 150 days where if you're out interacting with the public it's all about how great you are, and the rest of the time you are alone left to your own devices. It's all or nothing. And when that's how you function day in and day out for nearly half of a year, you lose touch with something you once had. You really do forget how to behave. You honestly do lose touch with some of your social skills.

Over the course of the last few months, you forgot that there was a world outside, and out in that world there were people who went on about their business completely oblivious to your plight. (And since you've forgotten how to behave in social situations, your all-consuming thought to yourself is, "Those insensitive assholes! How dare they not notice me!") After all, you've been your own sole focus for months!

The phone calls you've made to friends lately have all been about you, and your mission to find work. They have been all about you. It is a dangerous currency to deal in self-involvement. You tend to forget your place.

So while I was on the phone today, I was talking to someone about what she did this past weekend and all the action she's been getting lately. It's nice to hear about the outside world again, knowing that you are on the verge of rejoining the party. But after about a half an hour of conversation, it suddenly dawned on me that I had lost something. The banter was lost. The edge of the wit had dulled. There was unwanted air in the conversation. And as someone who is known in social circles for that particular brand of sharp-edged wit, the realization that you have forgotten how to interact with others in your usual way hits you like a ton of bricks. It suddenly closes in on you and makes you really uncomfortable with yourself.

A little while later one of my best friends in the world called me to see how I was doing. I looked down at the ringing phone. I saw her name on my caller ID. I was overjoyed and terrified at the same time. She's one of my best friends and the last time I talked to her was damn near 3 months ago. THREE MONTHS!?!?!? Not because of any tension in the relationship, not because I didn't want to talk to her for any reason, just because I had been too wrapped up in myself to make a phone call.

SERIOUSLY, how fucked in the head do you have to be to just get too wrapped up in your own business that you totally neglect calling one of your best friends for THREE MONTHS?

I've become a bad friend who has lost some of her formerly reknowned social skills. I have forgotten the proper etiquette and protocol for the kinds of daily interaction that no one should ever forget... Down to the point where it impacted my personal interaction with people who know me well.

Dammit, I've gotta get back out there!

The only way to fight these demons is to jump back into social circles with both feet.

AND I MEAN NOW!

(But having realized what I now know about my personality, I'm a little reticent to go out there, lest I offend people who under other circumstances would find me charming, witty, and irresistible.)

Your thoughts?