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[Mud on my shoes]
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I think I've decided -- for sure -- not to rent a car for next week's excursion to Ft. Myers, Florida. That will save us anywhere from $350 to $500 dollars, plus we won't have to "count" miles, as many plans have limited mileage. So, I canceled the Enterprise reservation and have decided to perform some needed, yet simple, maintenance on my vehicle this weekend -- an oil change and tune up should do the trick. Besides, with the warmer weather and all, the car seems to be running well. I'm not worried. This will give me an excuse to clean up the car, another task for this weekend.
I haven't heard anything about my job interview last Friday. I will probably need until the end of this month to finish my current assignments at my part time job.
My mom sent me the job section from this past Sunday paper; I guess I ought to peruse it.
Part of me thinks it's foolish to spend this last UC paycheck on a vacation, but I so desperately need it. I've made a text file titled "before leaving," which lists all the things I need to buy, do, pack, clean, and pay off before next Wednesday. Could I be anymore anal retentive? The list is starting to read like a short story or novella.
I'll definitely need to prepare some mini-discs for the trip. I'll be facing thirty-two hours of driving (down and back), and I better have something to listen to. I could be totally lame and do the blank tape thing (note: there is no CD player in my car -- I generally hook up my mini-disc player to the tape deck), which I might end up doing if I can't find that Sony USB 2 cable. Poo. And, even if I did find that cable, I'd have to pry Sean off of the desktop and away from his precious new "City of Heroes" to record any discs, as the CD-ROM on this laptop isn't working.
Ah, the optical jack! I completely forgot about you, so tiny and inconspicuous.
[Eyes White Stripes CD] |
[Fox's answer to "Average Joe"]
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Lacy is so beautiful.
:cries:
But then, I checked out "The Swan."
I'm hot again.
I'm leaving for Florida next week and am embarking on a crash diet. Starting. Tomorrow.
Nothing but salad, "Ultimate Cleanse," and tea.
And light beer.
Old habits die hard.
Granted, most of my bloat is due to going back on the Levlite. The excess water should pass in a couple days once my body realizes what's going on.
I.am.a.nut.
I think I'm going to schedule a micropeel plus, to ensure that my skin won't act up next week.
Could I be anymore high maintenance today.
Wah.
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[More than enough room for her]
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I've decided to take charge of my credit card debt. For good.
Currently, I have five credit cards, none of which have huge balances. Sure my credit card debt -- which, in total, is less than twenty-five hundred bucks -- PALES in comparison to my student loan debt; however, I've decided that improving my credit score is this year's goal, and paying off these credit cards, canceling most of them (I want to keep my Capitol One and Lazarus-Macy's cards), will not only help me achieve this goal, but also help me manage my overall money situation.
I had a job interview last Friday that went very, very well. I won't go into details about it here. I wouldn't want to jinx myself. If I get this position (even if I don't, I'm a bit more optimistic now about my opportunities), I will strongly consider becoming an adult -- fer real -- and buying a house. I mean, even if five years from now, a new job opportunity springs up in a new city or state, I can always sell, right? I feel like I'm throwing money away while renting, and I'd like a yard, one with a porch, where I can drink beer and read, without the annoyances of psychotic neighbors and upstairs apartment managers, who I swear, have a shelf o' bowling balls that *accidentally* tips over every night as I'm trying to fall asleep.
Back to the point.
Over the next two months, I am going to pay off two of my credit cards completely and to continue to pay the minimum balances on the rest. May will be the fateful month for my Household Bank Mastercard, which has a balance of about $260. June will bring the demise of my First Premier Bank Mastercard, which has, I think, the same balance, or a bit less. With those cards canceled and cut up, I will begin biting chunks out of my Merrick Visa, which has a balance of $1200, will take three or four months -- July, August, September(, October) -- to grind down to zero. But it will get done. November and December, I will pay off my Capitol One and Lazarus cards, but will not cancel them. I'd like to keep at least one credit card for emergencies and at least one Department Store card (after all, I'll have to furnish my new house, and Lazarus, often, has good deals for cardholders).
My father has agreed to co-sign a home loan, but I don't want that. I want to do this myself. And, beefing up my credit is what I need to make this happen. And as much as I appreciate the parentals' help, I feel like I'm regressing -- even when accepting a few bucks here or there. Having my dad cosign a loan will definitely make me feel like a child. Of course, my father just wants the best of me, as both he and my mom grew up in poor families and had to bust their asses to get where they're at today. They don't want to see me "poor," but I don't want to see myself as too terribly dependent.
In other news, I am going out of town next month for about ten days. Sean and I are renting a car and heading to Ft. Myers, Florida. It's been forever since I've been near an Ocean, it seems. |
[Partyin' with Don Vito]
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Yesterday began with a trip to Sam's Club, where I made several industrial sized purchases. I will not run out of OxyClean, Dole canned Mandarin oranges, coffee creamers, or Splenda packets anytime soon. At the new Petsmart, across from Sam's, I not only bought two large bags of "the good" cat food but also espied a huge, silver-tan cat -- looking much like a bobcat -- by the name of Luther. A three-year old male with gargantuan paws and menacing eyes, he would make an excellent yard cat for my parents. After all, they need a twenty-plus pound feline to keep the moles under control.
Today, Sunday, is lazy day, officially, and it has been this way since my departure from the University. With no papers to critique and grade and no assignments to write and edit, I have become quite used to loafing around uselessly on this Sabbath day.
Sunday, also, in recent weeks have become known as "good TV day." The re-runs of "Six Feet Under," new season of "The Sopranos," and the introduction of "Deadwood" not only restore my faith in television writers but also reaffirm my choice to drop the extra cash for cable. Near-daily trips to Blockbuster have been eradicated, and I've, most likely, saved money over the last three months.
Lauren Ambrose, recently, has become my muse and I have decided that I will submit myself to MTV's "I Want a Famous Face" in quest for her flawless complexion, doe-like eyes, and perfectly creased bottom lip. I've never before deemed her as particularly attractive. She was cute in Swimming and Can't Hardly Wait. However, I've recently decided to categorize her as "hot," and place her on the top shelf along with Angelina Jolie, Salma Hayak, Uma Thuman, and, of course, that crazy snake-girl -- Lacy.
Oh no, I've been completely sucked into "Viva la Bam." Yikes! |
[No Arby's Sauce? A Crime, Indeed!]
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I cannot access my own websites, their control panels, or their e-mails from my own home computer. I discovered this yesterday while trying to FTP some files for Stu's website, which -- though complete -- has no real content (Of course, this is no fault of my own). There are few things, I've realized, that are more unnerving than not being able to get to from point a to point b in cyberspace, when that point b is, essentially, owned by you. And, one of these things is using the computer at the public library while overhearing young neighborhood girls talk about Usher's website or whatever. And this eight-hundred by six-hundred resolution. And the poor contrast and glare! Oh gag me! Yes, this is frustrating.
I am spoiled by my LCD Sony monitor. Spoiled me.
Anyhoo.
I thought, by some mere chance, that I owed my host money. But I do not, obviously, since I am able to access said sites from the library. I thought, perhaps, that there was something screwy with Zoomtown and Fuse, but there is not. A Tech, by the name of Sean, assured me that my sites were working fine from "both Zoomtown and non-Zoomtown machines."
Why, why, why, would my computer -- and my laptop, too! -- would be refusing to find my websites? I also tried to access a friend's website, hosted by my same host, and his site will not work, either. Yet, again, it works fine here, here on this Frankenstein desktop with the horrible monitor!
I've disabled my firewalls, and checked to make sure I wasn't accidently blocking any IPs.
Could somebody be playing a nasty little trick on me? Maybe. All I know is that if I can't access my control panels tonight, I am going to be forced be productive and do laundry and wash dishes and vacuum the rugs. Arg! The thought of it all makes me shudder. Another Saturday night of cleaning!
Oh dear, my session is running low. I guess I must depart. |
[Have you discussed this with your therapist?]
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I should really be drinking light beer. The bloat is a-creeping, and I feel like such a sandwich ass. Indian food topped with a soy latte and Red Dog: not so great for the system. Nevermind.
Today, inner-tie rods were replaced, various bathroom items were purchased, and yet another episode of "Family Business" was viewed on Showtime On Demand. Why I even bothered to make myself presentable to get food and coffee is beyond me. I had a tiny desire to actually go out and be social. But the moment has sought flight. Getting hit on by a carload of wiggers, a couple (male & female), and a transsexual female -- all while walking around the Calhoun/McMillian area earlier tonight (an area that is starting to smell a lot like a dirty vagina) -- was enough entertainment for me! What a Saturday.
Now about that dirty vagina smell. Has anybody else in the illustrious Cincinnati area noticed this? I mean, you don't have to Biblically know dirty vagina to recognize or at least guess at its smell.
Perhaps, it's just me. I'm weird about smell.
I've sent out five resumes over the last two weeks and I haven't heard a response from anyone. I am officially depressed. And the fact that dirty vagina smell is creeping toward my neighborhood is facilitating my depression and disgust. Next month, Sean and I will be taking a trip. I haven't been out of the state -- except for excursions to Newport and Covington, Kentucky to go to the Levee, the party source, and various strip clubs -- in years.
I'll probably end up bartending somewhere. Or working at Circle K mopping hurl and lung butter.
Sorry for the non-sequitur.
"As long as it's sexy ugly."
Sorry, Kissing Jessica Stein is on in the background. Perhaps I'll peruse the channels of my digital cable and attempt to amuse myself for the rest of the night. |
[Salt Free With No MSG]
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After having been gypped out of twelve-hundred dollars and been told the payroll wench was on vacation until the twelfth, I eagerly called Martha of notorious Business Affairs fame at Ray's Place Monday morning to be told that the situation would be taken care of and that I would be notified via phone call as soon as possible.
Now, this is over a thousand dollars in question. As soon as possible should mean: tomorrow, at the latest.
Wednesday Morning comes around, and I still haven't heard anything from Martha. I call her again, only to be told: "I know you're anxious (as if I'm a kid doing the pee-pee dance), but I haven't heard anything." Martha then continued to assure me that she would call.
Thursday goes by, and I'm still doin' that pee-pee dance over my money.
And Friday morning, I call Martha again, and she tells me: "I still haven't heard anything from Don (Finally, I get the name of the person supposedly in charge of the thumbs-up or thumbs-down in my money matter). Following up with him is on my list of things to do today."
So, she --supposedly-- sent this Don a memo on Monday, and she hasn't followed up yet? I mean, didn't she just get back from a vacation? Shouldn't she be working?
I decide to look up this Don person (note: I did learn his last name) on Ray's Place's website and I call him. He is, from what I can tell over the phone, concerned about my situation -- especially since he hadn't heard anything from Martha over the last five days. Immediately, he agrees to look up my contracts, to confirm my twenty-one credit hours of employment, and to have the money approved by the Dean -- all after walking down the hall to Martha and asking her to get her ass on the ball (I'm kidding about that latter assertion). Five minutes after our conversation has ended, Don calls me back, with news that "the check's in the mail." Well, not really. He wasn't certain as to when I'd receive it -- either May or June, depending on what "batch" it's in. Either way, I'm happy.
Martha calls later in the day confirming that the twelve-hundred dollar check will be in the "May 1" batch of checks. I guess she knew better not to delay the processing of my funds. Hopefully, she's feeling a bit sheepish about her inability to do her job and the fact that she was caught by a lowly adjunct, an ex-adjunct at that. Poo. On. Her.
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[I'm the plot, babe, and don't ever forget it.]
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Apparently, I am not qualified to do anything. And I mean, anything. Even with nearly five years of working in secondary and post-secondary educational institutions and two graduate degrees crammed in file folders and notebooks and embodied in frames hanging crookedly on a bedroom wall, I stutter around the want ads, online and print, questioning my abilities and the validity of my past experiences in the real, professional world outside that of the high school, community college, and university. I've begun to think about my experiences in terms of what they really taught me as a result. How can I tweak my quarters of instructing remedial writers, of inculcating men and women unable to follow simple directions, of allowing myself to be undermined daily, and make them solid and relevant as I apply for jobs in editing, proofreading, report writing, or executive assisting? Is there a place in my resume appropriate for writing something like, "Though a majority of my past experience represents me as an educator, particularly for those I would now consider bottom feeders of society, I promise that I can adapt to the demands of a career as [insert job title here] due to the variety of skills learned and talents practiced during the taxing ordeals I faced while allowing myself to be exploited by the American educational system"? |
[Lactose Intolerancy: The New Vegetarianism]
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I was chastised today by my gynecologist!
(And to think, I bathed and dressed nicely for him and everything.)
I guess the next time I run out of birth-control pills before a scheduled visit, I should call the office and get a new prescription called into SmartWomanRx.com. I tried to stress the fact that I had just quit my job and didn't have the extra funds for the Levlite, hoping that he would give me a year's supply (or even a six month supply) of contraception as I am sad and poor. However, he gave me the "you should be telling this to your shrink, not me" look and failed to absorb my hints of destitution. Either that, or he was too enamored with my tall leather boots as I put them back on and didn't listen at all. That could be the case, and I wouldn't be bothered.
In short, the next time I should call. Yes, yes, and that way I can avoid the pains of ovulating for the first fucking time in almost three years (It seriously, folks, does not feel pleasant). And (not to be a bitchy-must-talk-about-my-flow type) I don't even want to think about PMS (it's been a while since I've had "real" PMS thanks to my good friends Levonorgestrel and Ethinyl Estradiol.)
I should be the Levlite spokesperson. Hell, I'd do it for free pills.
In other news, the illustrious University of Cincinnati shorted me on my previous paycheck. After the conclusion of last quarter, UC still owed me $1,920; however, my April 1st paycheck (April Fool's indeed!) was only $720. This leaves me unpaid for one of the classes I taught (I taught 21 credit hours Fall and Winter quarters, but have only been paid for 18). OF COURSE, the one and only person who can resolve this issue for me -- the payroll cunt -- is on vacation until April 12th. How convenient for her. Starting vacation the day after checks are mailed out is a good way, yes, to avoid confrontation. But believe me, Martha, I'm going to yell at you just the same on the 13th as I would have on the 2nd.
And this is why Dr. Karram should have fronted some meds fo' mah welfare ass. Bitch can't even get paid what's due to her. Dayum. |
[rhinoplasty, brow lifts, and bicep implants, oh my! ]
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I am so obsessed with plastic surgery television shows. And thank God for MTV, Discovery Health, and E! I just can't get enough windblown faces, plastic boobs, and man-made navels! |
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