Wednesday, June 29, 2011

It's not real huntin' no more

The job hunt used to be about a person with a certain marketable set of skills taking those skills and offering them to an employer for a fee. There was certain amount of equality involved, I have something you want let's find a situation we're both comfortable with. At least that's what I've read about in history books.

I came into the job market during the beginning of the recession. It wasn't that bad yet, it hadn't really hit the insular college community so on-campus jobs weren't that hard to get, you just had to know someone. Then the budget cuts hit and I went from 20 hours a week  plus commission (I was an office assistant, book keeper for off campus accounts, and a sales representative for student publications) to about 5 hours a week with no commission. I had to quit and find something else.

So I went to work for the Census Bureau, that was a good job, no one wanted to hike through the boon-docks alone so they were desperate for people (as long as I could prove I could read and kinda follow a map I had it). But that ended earlier than planned (I should have been less efficient) and I was out of a job. I was unemployed for about a month after  that but it wasn't so bad because I had a decent savings account from working summers at a hometown bank as a teller. I eventually ended up working retail in a tourist trap (a nice trap, but a trap) that I ended up quitting for lack of  pay and lack of hours, which brings us to my current state of desperation.

During my current state of desperation things have gotten bad. There are four help wanted ads in the classifieds and most of those are continuous runners (an employer pays to run the ad until the money runs out not until an employee is found) so that when you call to ask about it they're PISSED they're still getting calls (DUH, I should just KNOW that the job is filled, my physic abilities are failing me). But my favorite is when I'm treated with disdain and irritation when I walk into a store and ask if they're hiring or if I can submit an application.

I don't feel powerful like I'm on the hunt I feel pathetic and like I'm begging for jobs. Like I'm asking for pity I know that I'm asking someone to take a calculated risk on me and invest time and money in me, but I am a GOOD worker and not only that but I can SALE, I mean I can unload merchandise like it's my job (hehe). Uh, someone stop me, this rambling rant of emo is getting out of hand.

Friday, June 24, 2011

Things I read now

I have been an avid reader since roughly the fourth grade, before that I had a really hard to time learning how to read (go figure teaching a kid to read phonetically after just beating a speech impediment). Also because of a little something called AR points (accelerated reader) where you read a book, took a test online, and were rewarded with a certain number of points based on the difficulty (length) or the book and accuracy of your answers  (was your friend who also just read it near by?). The best part of AR was that you got to use class time to take the test!!!! "It's time for spelling and grammar (just so you know, I misspelled grammar, thanks spell check!) lessons Paige (my name) "Gee, I would Ms. Justice, but I have to take this test, O darn!" (In retrospect probably should have skipped those AR points, you just got to have your name on the bulletin board if you were in the top ten anyways.

Ok so to bring that rather long and unnecessary tangent back to what I was originally going to write, here's my current reading list and what I used to read pre-bump.

Current library books
HaperCollins Complete book of baby care:from birth to three years

First Aid fast for babies and children: Emergency procedures for all parents and carergivers

The New Mom's Companion;Care for youself while you Care for your Newborn

The Diaper Diaries: The Real Poop on a New Mom's First year

Pregnancy Sucks: What to do when your Miracle makes you miserable (Actually bought this one, it makes me laugh)

Does this pregnancy make me look fat? (No the year before baby where I didn't exercise did that, but I like to put the book where non-baby-making people can see it and get confused)

Anything that has a baby on the cover or "mommy in the website name"

Old books I got to buy and keep or borrow and keep for a really long time

If You Were Here-Jennifer Lancaster 

The Picture of Dorian Gray-Oscar Wilde

Written on the body-Jeanette Winterson

The Edible Woman- Margret Atwood (please read this amazing book, this woman is a literary great)

The Irresistible Henry House-Lisa Grunwald (Actually would be good to reread so I know what NOT to do)

ANYTHING I COULD GET MY HANDS ON, I seriously read a novel or two a week, and just because I had to for class (English Major), but because I wanted to. Now I seem to be almost solely intrested in diaper dishing.

Thursday, June 23, 2011

Texts from the gym

I do not enjoy the gym. I only go when someone makes me (boyfriend, cousin, friend), so when I spend an hour (half hour most days) I make my displeasure known to everyone and anyone in my address book, as texting on the elliptical or bike helps keep me from tearing my clothes and ripping out my hair in agony.

2:45 At the gym :( all the machines are full :) guess i'll just sit  around 

2:53 Machine opened up :( Maybe someone else needs it more?

2:55 On the stupid machine, why do they put mirrors in front of it? Most people go to the gym because they don't like what the see right? So why make someone look at themselves when they're sweaty red and out of breath? 

3:01 this tool bag beside me better stop trying to read my settings, jerk wad, mind your own business

3:05 "O look at me, I can go backwards.  what are you doing? Forward, ha, I can do it backwards and not
 fall off"

3:07 Please make it stop! Make it stop!

3:10 I want a milkshake. 

3:15 Hey! I did over a mile! double pre baby time but that means it'll be over soon right?

3:16 Sweating is stupid, who needs to regulate body temperature anyways?

3:23 Do you think I could pretend to sprain my ankle? Can you do that when you don't even lift you feet? 

3:27 NEED WATER, why do I never remember to bring it? 

3:30 I think I'm dying, can you die from to much exercise?

3:33 DONE!!!!!! :D :D Kind of feels good 

Thursday, June 16, 2011

I hate you Tweetsie

Far away, in the mountains of North Carolina, high on a hill not far from the Blue Ridge Parkway, there exists a community of people that come together in the spirit of a desperate need for money. These poeple particapate in an ancient, it would seem almost scared, ritual of ripping people's money off. These people would be the owner's of  "Tweetsie Railroad".

Don't get me wrong, I went as a child and absolutly LOVED it. I got to see "Indians" (I know it's Native American's if you don't know a persons tribe, or was the last time I checked) and Cowboys duke it out on a coal powered train and a ply wood fort,  four sad, polyester clad saloon girls perform in the "dance hall", and I rode a farris wheel that looked like it was going to throw you off the side of the mountain. And you know what? Between the ages of 5 and 10 it was AWESOME! Somewhere after 12 I started noticing certain.............historical inaccuracies.

 I'm not a history buff or particulary studious, but I did read enough "Dear America's" as a child to know that not everyone in the wildwest was between the ages of 19 and 22 (all workers at tweetsi are from the local college) and had nose and eyebrow piercings, that most "General Stores" probably didn't specialize in goverment cheese $8 nachos (they were $8 in the mid 90's, probabaly a couple hundred now), and small teddy bears beating plastic tribal drums. Along the way, other people seem to have also noticed, and Tweetsie has since been sued out of existance but still somehow runs May thru October.

As an adult I now live less than a 1/4 mile from Tweetsie. Which does nothing to hide it's multitude of flaws.

And since I'm so close now and it runs May thru October I hear the train whistle May thru October (25 runs a day starting at the 7:30 train inspection) and I play Russian Roulette with snotty suburnaites who fly around blind curves (doing 20 miles an hour over the speed limit, down a mountain ,that they ARE NOT FAMILIAR WITH) so that when I pull out of my drive way I have a 50/50 shot at dying (I either will or I won't die). (My favorite part is when they get mad at me and ride my butt  whike flipping me off for half a mile, screaming obscinities with young kids in the car, because they had to slow down for half a second. Nothing like a wholesome day of family bonding!  (you know I obviously have less reason to be upset since it's now gonna take you (5 seconds) longer to get home and get away from your kids and I only almost just DIED, you JERK)).

So to make this shorter and not go into a 500 word essay on how crappy they treat and pay their employees because everyone is so desperate for jobs (so desperate I was upset when the jobs filled up before I got my application in), I will conclude with a simple yet emphatic statement:


Monday, June 13, 2011

Dressing Rooms

Dear clothing designers, retailers, and all those whom (who?) are interested,

I'm a big girl. And yes that mean's I can wear pull ups and cry at my party if I want to, but I also mean I'm a BIG girl. I don't think small children have ever cried at the sight of me and to my knowledge no one on the street has ever stopped, pointed, and yelled "DAMN", but I can sometimes be a plus size shopper. Compound that with being 5'10 and oddly portioned (no butt, rather busty) and it's usually a long day of shopping when I'm in need of new clothes, it's not impossible and I don't usually start crying and cramming my face with Ben and Jerry's (What up chunky monkey!) but I do avoid certain stores.

One store (or type of store) I thought I wouldn't have to worry about not finding anything in was a maternity store (I have been known, on occasion, to "unknowingly" buy a maternity shirt (or two). They are very flattering for my body type). IT'S SUPPOSED TO BE DESIGNED FOR WOMEN WITH BIG BELLIES AND BIG BOOBS!! That's what's supposed to happen when you "become with child". BUT NO. Same problem as in normal stores, if it fits one place it doesn't fit another and if you are already fat, that means you have even bigger boobs which means you want to wear tops slit in half to show the world because surely a big woman doesn't want people looking anywhere else (LIKE MY FACE) they might notice she's fat.

Surprise designers! People with eyes know what I look like (or people that read my blog have hazy details that can inspire an idea). So stop putting me in mu-mu's with inappropriate chest-ail cutouts. Not only skinny people get knocked up, I promise you, I'm living proof (as is my in-utero son) that you don't have to be hungry for someone to find you attractive. So please make something that will cover me without suffocating me.  Thank you.

Saturday, June 11, 2011

Inspiring TV drama

First I would like to say NO SUCH FREAKING THING. Now there are several movies, NOT 'made for TV movies, (lifetime/hallmark channel) that have made me want to do something with my life, not really long enough to actually do something, but long enough to get a heady wave of possibility flooding my system. See: "Mr.Smith Goes to Washington" staring Jimmy Stewart (by far my all time favorite actor).  Every time I watch this movie I think I'm going to be a Senator and fight for the children and good honest people of the world, fight corruption and hold a filibuster so dramatic and moving that the whole world with wake up and actual good will be accomplished.

However, Inspirational Television, that is dripping with it's own self-importance and self-righteous soapbox performance is at best depressing and at worst cloying.  For something to be deemed inspiring one must first suffer, and suffer hard. They or it or the town or the endangered wildlife must be in the brink of oblivion and stay there for an awfully long time before something good is allowed to happen to them. My life's going pretty well, despite my constant whining, I really have nothing to complain about. Does this mean to do anything worth wild with my life I have to lose everything? How is that inspiring?

Or it must be about the sweetest PERSON EVER (I'm out), like the person that's so nice you can't say anything mean about them but you still try because they rub you the wrong way (seriously could they burn a batch of cookies at least? For Pete's sake at least spill something on your frilly polished self) and then you come off as a callous jerk. Of course this could just the bitterness of self reflection rearing it's ugly head but I feel like people that are THAT sweet are hiding something and I don't trust them. Another way I'm screwed out of Opera interview status (of course I'm pretty sure her shows are all booked anyways and there's not gonna be another season so one more thing that I'll never be able to accomplish on my bucket list). 

Friday, June 10, 2011

Guess what time it is?

That's right, Benford tools is proud to present to much information time!

I have both a UTI and  and a bladder infection. I just lost half my readership. There's just not a lot to right about when you've spent all day rocking in pain, hydrating, and napping. For someone that's never had either before: I hate you. A lot. In fact, you should send me cupcakes. Right now. I'm waiting. Ok. Yeah, I didn't have much hope that would work.

To kind of understand what it's like (UTI's and bladder infections, not waiting for cupcakes, although....)  imagine being on a long, long car  ride while riding through a thunderstorm by a roaring river after drinking three 32 oz big gulps. OK, now imagine you've been stuck in the car for 3 hours and you can't pull over. Does it hurt yet? You know that "OMG SOMETHING IS GOING TO EXPLODE, I'm gonna die from spontaneous internal bladder explosion" feeling? Got the yet? Ok good,now sit around with it for another ten hours. Then, finally get to the bathroom and where it turns out you don't have to go. The need to go isn't gone, but the evidence is.

Now shove all of this routine into about 4 minute intervals. I know according to the description this process should take about 47 hours, but pretend you're in the Tardis with Dr.Who and you're speeding up time with his sonic screw driver (DORK ALERT!). It's just that you have this painful, burning, all consuming need to go but YOU CAN'T. You sweat, you rock, you cry a little and you wish with more power than a 6 year old on Christmas eve that the doctors (the place not the British TV show) office opened at 5 am instead of at the unreasonable hour of 8 am.

Then you get the blessing from the doctor to take some AZO and 30 minutes later you can function.

The end.

Thursday, June 9, 2011

A message from the cat


For those you that don't speak cat, I will translate below.

Hey, you're not looking at me. If you're not looking at me you can't possibly be worshiping me enough, do you know who I am? Look at me look at me look at me look at me NO DON'T TOUCH ME, just look at me! Fine, you're not gonna look at me then I'm gonna sit on the clicky things. If you have time to go the bathroom 40 times a day then you have time to pay attention to me 80 times. 

 Listen, I'm normally a very laid back kinda cat, I will cuddle for just the right amount of time, I let you stroke and marvel at my silky fur when appropriate, and I never overstay my welcome on your lap. 

But lately, you've been lacking. You have been spending a lot of time on your computer making clicky noises. Everyone is rubbing your belly and not mine. What the hell? You don't even have any fur! 

So, in conclusion more time for me, less time for the clicky noises that interrupt my naps on the computer, and people stop touching your belly because it's weird and giving me nightmares. 

PS- there's a dead chipmunk hidden somewhere in this apartment. I'm saving him for later, don't throw him out. 

O man, he totally killed Simon, I hope it was Simon hidden behind the bikes. He's (Simon) a know it all that sometimes makes me want to punch him (I hate it when someone has cooler glasses than me). It would be sad if it was Theodore (we share an over eating disorder and that creates all kinds of emotional bonds (which lead to more emotional eating)). I'm luke-warm about Alvin, I think he just wasn't loved enough as a child (I googled if there was a special name for baby chipmunks( like a baby dear is a fawn, a baby chicken is a pullet) but no luck). So yeah, I guess the best option was Simon. Although, the chipmunk really looked like the one from "Enchanted" so maybe I'm referencing the wrong children's movie. 

Wednesday, June 8, 2011

Mine Vs. His

In the pool 

His: One hour of high intensity Olympic size laps in the pool. He does take (occasional and brief) breaks to make sure I'm not swimming across multiple lanes because it's fun to dunk under the ropes.

Mine: Dunking under ropes because it's fun. Occasionally I'll do a lazy backstroke down the lane, but mostly just float around with my ears underwater wondering if this is what the baby normally hears (but with a lot less rumbling, because my stomach is usually louder than my voice).


His: Going on a hike

Mine: Walking from the parking lot to the picnic tables (I will actually go on hikes and used to enjoy them (UNTIL  I started carrying around an extra person strapped to my stomach, he (El bambino) tends to get feisty when hiking so he starts picking on my internal organs)) (that's a lot of parenthesis, I wonder what the world record is for most correctly (and incorrectly) used parenthesis in one sentence is).

Accepting compliments-

His: Thank you.

Mine: I'll do this in example form
                    Friend's text: What are you doing?
                    Mine: Trying to be funny, it's not coming out well
                    Friend's text: Everything you write is funny
                    Mine: O, friend
                    Mine: Are you day drinking? 
                    Friend's text: It's 6:15, day drinking occurs before 5
                    Mine: So you're normal drinking
                   Friend's text: Yes

Holding on to a consistent thought process before staring a new sentence-

His: He can routinely start and finish a sentence without changing subjects inappropriately multiple times and without employing the use of superfluous parentheses.

Mine: Please read this blog as explanation.                


Tuesday, June 7, 2011


Still pregnant, still fat, still unemployed and still unable to write anything interesting.

In other news (but not really) that statement makes me seem really really emo. All I'm missing is the odd haircut and dark clothing (Just so you know, I'm currently in a pretty white on white striped shirt and khaki preggo capris. I look almost wasp like....almost) and pseudo intellectual stance on something completely inane and pointless to snare at lesser people about (although I do have this very strong and snooty belief system for certain brands of chocolate milk).

I do have those short(ish) angled bangs but that's more because I only get my hair cut 3 times a year and the woman that cuts my hair knows this and so tries to cut it short enough that I won't look ridiculous by the time I get around to seeing her again but in doing that makes me look ridiculous for a month after getting it fixed.

And that long run on thought process about my appearance makes me sound super vain.

And the constant commentary on myself makes me sound really concieted,

I'm gonna go sponsor a kid in Africa, clean a stream, and walk a shelter dog at the park (I probably won't do that today, but I'll totally try to us less paper towels and recycle something).

O!  I missed judgmental! The stereotyping of the emo makes me totally judgmental (I am not a valley girl or whatever, my vocabulary just seems stunted today so I keep saying totatlly a lot....see judgmental again).