Things About Me That Are (APPARENTLY) Unattractive

Dog Sitting

So, I dog sat for my cousin again.

Her poodle, Gilda, wearing my ball cap:


My "toy" poodle, Molly, wearing my ball cap:

Things That Are Frowned Upon At Work

So I recently started working at a call center-ish type place in the city. It's nice to be down in the city, I feel like I'm at least moving in the physical direction of the place I want to be. The work isn't exactly what I want to be doing, but for now-it's a paycheck and at least here I don't feel like I'm on fire from the minute I walk in the door to the minute I leave. Baby steps! Picking one apple at a time! The wheels of progress are slow, but I'm getting there.

Most of the time, I'm on the phones taking calls for 9 hours a day.
Sometimes it's a little interesting.
Mostly, it gets old after 45 minutes.
So when they told me they wanted to put me on a "special" project I was like, "Please and THANK YOU!"
I found out the "special" project was data entry, and apparently I did a good job because now I'm doing data entry A LOT.
Staring at an excel spreadsheet for 9 hours a day isn't exactly stimulating but it's still better than being on the phones. At least when I'm a data entry monkey I can have my thoughts to myself. I can make my plans for taking over the world, think about something funny on Modern Family and start giggling, or wax philosophical on the state of humanity.

But at the end of a special project day, I usually feel like this:


Then.
I found out something amazing. I looked around one day at all the people around me and saw they all had on headphones. Special project monkeys are allowed to LISTEN TO MUSIC ON HEADPHONES while they do their data entry thing!! This was pretty sweet news.

So I brought my iPod to work. And suddenly, data entry was awesome...


The hard part about this?
While you are allowed to LISTEN to music, you are NOT allowed to SING ALONG.
It is frowned up.


Frowned Upon:



Frowned Upon:



Frowned Upon:



Frowned Upon:



And yes...





Frowned Upon:

Molly Gets A Bath

And it's always really funny...

Not That Kind of Lesbian

So, one night, before my broski left to go back to school, we were discussing what movie we should watch. He was trying to sell me this movie called The Losers. And I said, "Let me see it".
So he threw it at my head, intending for me to catch it.

And this is what happened:


And he was like...


And I was like...


And it kinda got me to thinking about Lesbian stereotypes and which ones I fit and which I don't fit. If I were a stereotypical lesbian I probably should have been able to catch that DVD with my teeth. Gay as I am, and "boyish" as I am, I was NEVER good at sports. The only place I've played softball was in grade school gym class, and I can't make a lay-up too save my life. Let's just say that while there were other signs in my youth and pointed to homosexuality, my sports prowess (or lack thereof) was never ever one of them. Not that being good at sports makes you gay or being bad at them makes you not gay, but you know...thinking about stereotypes that is one I most definitely do not fit.

So what kind of lesbian am I?
Well the quick answer to that is "The Amy C. Pocket-Sized Kind" but that's not nearly as fun as comics...

First of all, we can get this out of the way up front. I am most definitely not a lipstick lesbian:

I would not make for a pretty girl.

BUT...
I really like blow-torches and power drills:

This one makes me a walking stereotype.
...Although, I'm not nearly as talented with these tools as I pretend to be. Mostly, I like to carry them around and do simple things with them (like putting up a shelf) (using the power drill not the blow torch) and then feel really proud of myself.


I think motorcycles are cool...


...but dangerous.


I enjoy a good brewsky every now and then.


But I cannot take whiskey or anything else that must be "shot"...



I'm the vegetarian kind of the lesbian...

But I hate granola.
And I'm not a hippie.
And I don't have a compost pile in my backyard.

And I can't lie...
I really freakin' love flannel shirts.

Yup, call me a dyke and hand me an ax there is NOTHING I would rather wear on a crisp fall day than a flannel shirt. Granted, I rock the flannel shirt and make it look good, but still...

Dream Jobs

So, in thinking about all my career aspirations, what it is I want to do with my life, where I want to be in five years, who I am, who I want to be, where I want to go, who I want to be with, what I want to accomplish before I die, and generally the meaning of the universe and my place in it...
I thought it would be helpful to make a list of my dreams jobs.

Here is a short list of some of the things I would like to be when I grow up:

1. Mythbuster.
Why? Because you get to blow stuff up with Mentos.


2. Professional Blogger
Why? Because one day it might be nice to get paid to do one of my favorite things in the world: be a smart ass. I mean...write.


3. Horse Whisperer.
Why? Because I love horses a lot and it would be super cool to talk to them.


4. Action Movie Star.
Why? Because action movie stars are awesome and kick-ass. I would like to be awesome and kick ass. Even if it just were pretend.

P.S: Young children who read this blog (duh, everyone reads this blog): Don't draw pictures like this. They will get you called into the principle's office.

And my ultimate dream-job???

5. Side-kick to Ellen DeGeneres.
Why? Like I even need to explain. She is, without a doubt, the coolest person in the world. And who wouldn't want to be a side-kick to the coolest person in the world?



If anyone would like to act as a reference for one of the above jobs (for example, if you know a horse I would get-along with really well and could whisper to) (or if you know Adam or Jaime from Mythbusters and can tell them I'd be great at maniacally laughing after we blow something up) (or if you know Ellen DeGeneres and can convince her she needs a side-kick) let me know! I'll give you a hug for saying nice things about me and perform a horse-whispering for you for FREE. That's an offer you can't pass up.

You Might Just Be a Lesbian If...

While out shopping for home improvement goods, you walk by a display of flannel shirts and think, "ooooooooo." And then you think, "But it's August" and then you think, 'But I love them."

And then you buy one.
With your home improvement goods.

Love Rant: Walgreens Drugstore for Carrying Same-Sex Wedding Cards

YES!

Seriously!


We might not be able to get legally married in Illinois but BOY HOWDY when we do? Walgreens is ready with same-sex wedding cards! And for now, they'll do just fine as "commitment ceremony" cards.

THANK YOU WALGREENS! A big thumbs up to you.

FURTHERMORE this was a Walgreens in the suburbs! I know! Crazy, right? I mean, I might have expected it from a Walgreens in Boystown, but the burbs? Whoa, baby!

Granted, it was only 2 cards and the choices were a card for "two grooms" with a cartoon of two tuxedoed torsos holding hands OR a card with rainbow hearts all over it. I know, not the best options but at least they were there.

The "two grooms" card was really cute. The rainbow hearts? Not so much. Don't take away my gay card but I'm not a huge fan of rainbows. It will be a cold, cold day in hell before there are any rainbows within a 10 mile radius of my wedding. Unless it's a real rainbow in the sky. My wedding will NOT have rainbow flag centerpieces, or a rainbow flag cake and I will NOT be wearing a rainbow tie at my wedding. Nor, will any member of my wedding party carry the rainbow flag down the aisle to the tune of "I'm Coming Out". Basically, at no time should anyone at my wedding say, "Hey, you know what this wedding reminds me? Last year's pride parade."

...although I wouldn't mind a drag queen in my wedding party. Or a dyke on a bike. PFLAG should probably have a float too. And I guess if they really want to the HRC could pass out pamphlets as long as they were willing to pass out wedding programs too.
...And if Elton John is busy the Chicago Gay Man's Chorus could do the music.
But over my dead body is anyone wearing a rainbow. We have to keep it classy.

Summer Lessons

This summer has been crazy. Absolutely crazy. Personally. Professionally. Everythingally.

I feel like I've been an emotional pinball this summer. Hittin' good spots that light me up with excitment, hittin' spots that should probably be followed by the sound effect, "Wah wah waaaaaaaaaaah".
I've learned a lot about myself these past few months. I'm a pretty proud, stubborn person. And I sorta felt like I failed at everything this summer. It's so hard to not be "THERE" when you want so badly to be "THERE." And because I'm not "THERE", I feel like I'm failing. ("THERE" being a job that I like, that affords me the ability to have a life that allows me to move out and be completely independent and self-sufficient. "THERE" being the ability to make my own life and have some security. "THERE" being the ability to not have to run so hard all the time to make my life work the way I want it to.) When I've been frustrated this summer, or down on myself or my situations my go-to "wish" has been, "God Damn, I wish I could just fast forward a year."
But you can't just fast-forward a year, nor if I was really honest, would I want to.


So, I learned a lot.

But I've learned one thing that's been especially enlightening and important. It may be one of the most revelatory things about myself I've EVER learned, in fact. And that is...

I am a super shitty farmer.

I don't think that plant could be anymore dead. And...I....I don't even know how this happened, really. One day it was fine and the next I looked at it and was like, "Oh, crap."
Well, that's kind of a lie. I guess I sort of know what happened...
It may have something to do with the fact that for those few weeks when it was super hot in Chicago and did not rain for a long time I kept saying to myself as I passed by the hose, "Ehhh....I think it's supposed to rain tonight."

Oops.
As intentional as the murder of my tomato plant sounds, I assure you...it wasn't. I'll grant you that it was maybe "plantslaughter" but most definitely not intentional nor premeditated. It just sort of happened. I kept saying I'd water it "when I got home" or that I'd "go out after dinner" and then...then I forgot or got occupied by something else.

So guys, next year? When I insist on planting plants? Someone please remind me what a shitty farmer I am.