Things About Me That Are (APPARENTLY) Unattractive

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:

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.

Love Rant: Inheritances

So, if you know me enough to speak to me regularly, you probably know I say "what?" "huh?" "pardon?" and "one more time?" a lot and generally accompany it with a point to my ear.

It's not because I don't listen.
It's because I don't hear well.

My family has been ALL over me to go get my hearing checked. I don't think it's that bad; they do. Problem is even when I had health insurance-audiologists and hearing aides aren't covered. And hearing aides? Super expensive. $3000 dollars per ear, easy. Plus, I'm 24 damn years old. Call me stubborn and unreasonable but I don't want to wear freakin' hearing aides. So, to recap, my super valid reasons for not getting my hearing checked are: a) Expensive. That spare change in my change bucket is for a new mac, not for hearing aides. b) I don't want to wear hearing aides. So I don't really care if I need them or not anyway.

Anyway. Someone let my the fact that I have a little hearing problem slip to my grandfather. He has had hearing aides ever since I can remember. But, he's an old man. It's necessary and plus, he can do fun, endearing, old man things with his hearing aides For example, when we were little he used to make them ring whenever we would hug him. Then he would say something adorable like, "Oh that was such a nice hug you're making me ring!"
Um. If I were to do that as a 24 year old lesbian....to anybody? It would be weird and slightly creepy.
So why get them if I can't even have fun with them?
Anyway, point is...my grandpa found out about my hearing problem. And my grandpa, as many grandpas do, likes to stew and worry about things. So, my phone rings today and I had the following conversation...






















What I love about my grandpa offering me his old hearing aides:
1. That I probably got my crappy hearing from him.
2. That he is sweet enough to do so. I love that the solution to my hearing problem is so simple to him. "Well here, just use my old ones! What's that? You say you can't see well either? Well shoot, use my specs! I'm due for an upgrade anyway!"
3. Let's set aside the fact that using his old hearing aides grosses me out a little bit...how about that his hearing aides are dinosaurs and probably weigh as much as I do and would not even fit on my ear? His hearing aides on my ears would be like putting a giant expedition frame-pack backpack on a kindergartener.
4. That throughout the entire conversation, the hearing aides that he wants to give me were not working.

Awesome.