In Other News.

The Bowery Ballroom in NYC recently held the U.S. Air Guitar Championships.
The rules for the competition:
-The guitar (can be acoustic or electric) must be invisible.
-You can use a real pick.

A guy from the East Bay won and I guess the event was huge. But all this begs the question, when the event is held in India, is it the Air Sitar Championship?

Oh snap. SITAR! oh yea, i went there.
I'm incredibly lame.
Truthfully people, I've been waiting for an excuse to mention air sitars for about 5 years, or whenever it was that i first saw Monsoon Wedding. I can honestly say I'm thrilled with myself.

I Had This Idea For A Show.

I've mentioned before that my tendency to watch 'The View' astounds and confuses me. But chances are, if it's 10AM and I'm still in sleep wear, I'll be tuning in for Hot Topics. After said segment, I am left with no choice but to shut off the TV and contemplate the meaning of life.
Can a purposeful existence be found in a world that pays Star Jones to speak?
How are we to find meaning when Elizabeth Hasselback is struggling to squeak out a point about knee-length shorts?
And does any of this matter when we can't even be sure Barbara Walters is speaking English? What did she say? Why does she keep whispering the last 3 words of every sentence? (note: 'of every sentence' to be read aloud in a whisper. go ahead, i'll wait)
But a few days ago, i was actually pleased I had taken a little time to enjoy. After coming back from a commercial break, Star set a somber tone. Taking the hands of her co-hosts and playing footsie with a bucket of KFC popcorn chicken under the table, she spoke with the seriousness doctors reserve for delivering irreversible news as she discussed the changes that lay ahead at The View. In classic Star Jones fashion (wasting time, not making a point) she finally said that she would not be returning next season concluding with, "I don't know what the future holds, but I know who holds the future." This line actually made my eyeballs roll into the recesses of my brain for about 5 minutes.
When Charlie Gibson came out as the guest he goes, "so who holds the future?" and Star goes, "God." And Gibson flatly says, "Oh." It was classic.
But I digress.
So Joy went on to say that she was shocked, Barbara whispered the sound a blender makes, and Hasselback squinted hard thinking of something interesting to say about skorts. But the studio air was thick with awkwardness. It was really embarrassing to watch. I sort of loved it.
But really?? Star quit?? Kathy Griffin calls Jones the President of the Lucky Club, and it's true. Well, besides marrying a blatantly homosexual man, that's slightly unfortunate.
So cut to the next day and the real Hot Topics begin.
Breakdown:
-Rosie agreed to do the View contingent on Star getting the ax.
-Star was never officially fired but her contract was not renewed. Um, same thing.
-Jones and the ladies were set to announce her departure later in the week.
-Jones jumped the gun and surprised everyone.
-Barbara is quoted as "feeling betrayed"
-Star said she was betrayed because Walters "didn't have my back."
Note: If I'm ever in a street fight, I'd like an elderly woman in a Chanel suit whispering animal noises to have my back.
But all of this is really great TV. The gossip off the set, the poop/fan combo broadcast live, the gossip after said broadcast. This is insane for ratings. Money down the geniuses at Newhouse overhaul the PR major to include Gossip Synergy Studies.

A Lesson in Probability.

Once around Halloween when I was like 7 or 8, the local drugstore had a giveaway for a giant (9ft high 4ft wide) inflatable Frankenstein. It was inflated and on display in the store right next to the entry box and from the moment I saw it I knew it had to be mine. So I begged my mom to be patient and stop lecturing me about fairness as I filled out every entry form there was and stuffed them into the box.
And yet, I was still in disbelief when I received a call a few days later saying that I had won. So back to the store we went to pick up my prize. Again begging my mom not to make me deflate it for the ride home. I wanted everyone to see. So we drove home with 4ft of Frankenstein hanging out the back of our station wagon, my face pressed against the window with Major Award Leg Lamp pride.
My little sister called to remind me of this story today because she had recently used the same technique. Her and her friend Necat were at the car wash and it was taking forever so they filled out tons of entry forms to win one of two cruise giveaways sponsored by a local travel agent.
Nessa said when she got out of work today she had 2 messages. The first was from the travel agency saying she had been one of 2 lucky winners of an all-inclusive cruise to the Bahamas. The second message was Necat, saying that she had just won a cruise.
Classic Frankenstein.

For Insurance Purposes.

We had our annual open enrollment meeting for health insurance at work. Showing up to those meetings is always a bad idea for me. As soon as they mention Death and Dismemberment I feel the need to burst out laughing. Obviously maturity issues come into play here, but I find it hilarious to think how I will be dismembered answering the phone. And they go on and on about the benefits and bonuses you'll get from accidental death on the job and I think, oh that'll be great. A nice fat lump sum of money will do me a lot of good when I'm dead. Then I start to think how I could be killed answering the phones and actually come up with a few scenarios, scaring myself, and the urge to laugh fades.
But the health meetings are just a waiting game for the dumbest question. I don't know why people feel compelled to share personal medical problems at these things but they always do, and I enjoy it. I sit there thinking, this woman is an insurance agent! She's not a doctor! But, keep 'em coming 'cuz we're all getting paid OT to sit here, or more if an eye gets poked out or we die.
So on the dental section she got into discussing oral surgery and if it's very invasive you can sometimes use both dental and medical coverage to pay for it. Or something. I wasn't really listening because I knew people were waiting for her to finish so they could ask her questions about their mouths. She'd already made clear in the medical presentation that she wasn't a doctor. She HAD to be a dentist.
And sure enough, as soon as she asked, "Any questions?" hands shot up.
The restaurant supervisor started asking about a dental procedure she had just had. Literally. She was speaking in mumbled slurs because she still had stitches in there. Dude. Any question you're about to ask is too late.
A Bellman sitting next to me raised his hand and started complaining about an old crown and asked what he should do about it. I felt the corners of my mouth turn up and quickly forced them down getting a tingle in my nose that told me I was about to start crying if I didn't laugh soon.
Agent: Well, I couldn't answer that sir. You'd have to talk to your dentist.
Bellman's Thought Bubble: You're not a dentist?! But my tooth hurts real bad!
Bellman: But do you think the PPO plan would cover that? Even if it looks like this too?
And he opens his mouth and smiles to expose all of his teeth and I turn to look at him the moment he does this, and I can't help myself. I burst out laughing.
Just me.
Not even the Aetna agent. She must get this all the time.
I quickly shut up and made awkward eye contact with the Bellman who probably thought I was laughing at his mouth--which I was. But not because it was bad, just because I think it's funny when people open their mouths for no reason, and ask the dental opinions of those giving power point presentations.
And I would have explained this to him but he looked pissed so leaned over holding the side of my face and whispered, "I have the same thing."
He seemed ok with that.

Le Foot.

A few words on the World Cup. Are you people watching this?! If not, you should be.
Here's why:
-Anything that gets human beings across the globe to paint their faces, consume beer, and sing cheesy chants is good. Yes, it is.
-Watching soccer is a workout for your being. Hope, anticipation, patience, excitement, disappointment, pride, are all exercised within a few kicks. Trust me. Even if you don't like soccer or know the countries playing, give one match a try. You'll see what I'm saying.
-In the bubble wrap that is the oceans and crap that surround us, most Americans have no idea the enormity of this game. The Daily Show said something really brilliant. That countries with historical rivalries use the game as a metaphor for war to settle differences. Whereas, Americans are indifferent because we don't need a metaphor for war. We have war.
(Oh, right--could someone start the anthem? Thanks)
In a 0-0 tie against Sweden, the players and fans of Trinidad and Tobago embraced and were moved to tears. A tie. Zero-Zero. When was the last time little American kids were told 0-0 was a good time to stop playing and celebrate. Celebrate the effort-yo!
(OK, and wave some flags here, please)
The fact that a GAME can unite the world is huge. If leaders and everyday people could understand the simple basics behind that, think of how we could all come together for even greater things, like peace, or really good gum.
(And release the doves and eagles now please. What? No eagles? Or doves?! How hard is it to find a dove? Um, magic stores, hello? Sorry everyone this will just take a minute. Well, what do you have? Chickens?! Do they even fly? No, i never got around to seeing Chicken Run. Fine, release them. ...... well, that was lame.)
The World Cup, which is different from the Olympics in that it doesn't include pair figure skating to negate any serious discussion of it's lasting effects, is a chance for the Earth--this spinning mass suspended in the universe--to take part in all that is fundamentally wonderful. Painting faces, consuming beer, and singing cheesy chants.

Look Ma, more pics.

Right, so i just have to share this because it's honestly one of my favorite things ever. So we were in a thrift store and Nessa found a picture of two random people holding hands by a fireplace. All I had to do was look at this thing and i would tear up it was so funny. So we all agreed she had to buy it and put it in her apartment and when someone asked about it, make up a different story every time. I thought the woman looked like a Vicki and the man like a Harold. Anyway, when she went up to pay for it, the woman in front of her (purchasing a pair of closed-toe shoes with painted toes on the outside) starts screaming, "Oh you're buying that?! That thing's been here for months!" Now, why anyone would give away a framed personal picture to goodwill confuses me. But why no one would buy it immeadiately BLOWS MY MIND. When the woman with the shoes got to the register the thrift store worker goes, "Are these shoes or decoration?" And the woman, (seen above holding the picture) still screaming, goes, "I don't know. Whatever's cheaper." Love it!

Sunshine State.

Spent a week in Florida to: a) dog/housesit for my aunt and uncle
b) Help Ness move into her new apartment
c) escape my job and regain my sanity. The night before i left i hung up on a guest for asking for their soup in a bread bowl. It was time to get away.

In regard to A, let me just say, don't do this. It seems like a good idea, have a house to yourself, whatever, but not so much. If the dogs are good, it might be a different story, but these are the worst dogs in the world. They bark and jump on you constantly (I have bruises all over my body) and one of them was diagnosed by the vet as being bipolar so when it looks like he's depressed you have to talk to him for 45 minutes reminding him that "he's the best dog there is." Seriously.
And their backyard is honestly a botanical garden so between watering the plants and giving a dog his daily affirmations, I wasn't feeling it.

Concerning B, any move in our family is a breeding ground for hilarity. Past highlights include me being asked to sit in the closet while Sabrina unpacked (yes Alanis, it is), a ping-pong table flying off the back of my father's truck, an oversized U-Haul getting wedged under a bridge in Queens, and well, you get the idea.
This move for Ness was no exception. And actually, I think because of my literal exhaustion (thanks dogs) and heat exhaustion (thanks heat), everything was five times funnier. I haven't laughed so much in consecutive days since London. It was awesome.
Brina flew in from NY to help because her lists and moving skills are unparalleled. Hands down, the most militantly organized human alive. My moving list would have three things on it. Bed, TV, cereal bowls. The list she made for Vanessa had almost 200 items on it. At lunch she suggested we go through the list and include possible color schemes. I suggested we eat sweet potato fries.
But really, lifting heavy things and assembling furniture is impossible when you're keeled over from laughter. A good laugh is like a foot that's fallen asleep. You're not going anywhere.
So, I think the ability to relay an inside joke and make those on the outside appreciate it is the most advanced skill in storytelling. I don't have said skill so I'll spare you. But think of your most intense laugh. The kind where you literally hold your sides, realize 3/4's of the way through that you've forgotten to breathe and widen your watering eyes as if that will make your lungs expand, only to realize that's not how the respiratory system works. I had a week of that.

Holy Shit.

So i just wrote the last chapter to my book! I was reading an essay by Camus and it gave me an idea for a wrap up and I sat down and finished it! If you're not related to me, you probably don't know or care that i've been working on this (on and mostly off) for what seems like forever, but yea, fucking last chapter bitches!!! Note: Jane Austen is famously quoted as saying, "fucking last chapter bitches" upon completing Sense and Sensibility. True.
But I'm really excited, like shaking excited actually. I called my sisters and my parents and everyone was sleeping. Kind of takes the buzz away from a writing high when you have to wake people up and wait for the sleep voice to fade away so they can be excited for you too, but I'll take it.
Just went to the store to get a bottle of wine to celebrate. Nono good sir, 2 buck chuck's will not do for this occasion. I have written a book! Tonight shall be $3 Spanish Wine!

And What Do You Think That Means?

How best to describe conversations with Karla? Truly, there are a thousand different ways I could go with it, but I guess it's like looking at a Pollock only to realize you're searching for Waldo. She has such an incredible ability to mix huge philosophical points with something completely unrelated, and I never see it coming, and actually, I don't think she does either. I shouldn't be surprised when it happens, but i honestly find it so amusing every time because she doesn't even attempt to link the two. They're always just connected by a thoughtful pause, like it was an extension of the idea she had just expressed.
Example:
So she's studying to be a counselor and was trying to sell me on the idea of analysis. Just explaining it more or less, the benefits, how it works, the absence of validation, whatever. I'm a staunch realist so I have issues with analysis because if that person is just going to stare at you and not say anything, what's the point? Just talk to yourself in the mirror. And she said that they'll mention a twitch or reaction when you mention a person, and a similar action when you mention something else and ask you to find the connection. this would honestly be my personal hell. I'm a nervous person by nature. Having someone call me out on my fidgeting and asking me to find the deeper meaning behind it would drive me nuts. Well, I keep shifting cuz you're staring at me. The meaning there is that I want you to stop looking at me.
But anyway, Karla was making some really wonderful points I was totally impressed, and then she kind of inhales deeply like she's about to make this grand summation and says, "You know, I really want to see the new X-Men."
I'm not kidding
And neither was she.
It was all so classic, but I in no way wanted to validate it. So i just sat there and stared. And I figured if she made a connection between x-men and her childhood, I would charge her $75.

Open. Now Tell Me the Story of Your Life.

Went to the dentist yesterday. Scheduled teeth cleanings really highlight how fast time flies. Wasn't I just here? Yes, six months ago. Really? Yes. Wow, that went fast. I have that same exchange every time I go. I like to get a little conversation in with the receptionist before heading to the chair where I will be reduced to the noises I can make from the back of my mouth.
I have a theory that everyone in the medical profession gathers once a year for a convention to discuss new ways to make patients look ridiculous. Past years honors have gone to:
-The rubber mallet used to test reflexes. This is just a way for doctors to hit you with things and see how you'll react. It in no way has anything to do with reflexes.
-The paper crop top. It's like the paper dress but it's just a top. NOTE: once at the dermatologist I was told to put this on, and I thought it was a gown so I took off my pants and tried going leg first through the sleeve. And when the doctor knocked on the door, I was like, "holy shit! She's looking at my neck! Why are my pants off?!" and started screaming at her not to come in. The paper top won that year because of that story.
And i'm sure when Nessa becomes a doctor she'll win based on something to do with a physio ball.
But undoubtedly, top honors go to dentists every year for the new ways they find to increase the awkwardness of a visit.
When I went in yesterday, my regular dentist wasn't there. I was greeted by a man named Art. "Hi, I'm Art" was his exact introduction. No Dr. or hygienist mention, just a guy named Art there to brush and floss my teeth. Ok, whatever.
So Art followed all of the regular dentist tricks. Tilting the chair back until you are almost completely vertical upside-down, shining the bright light directly into your eyes, putting the spit sucker in before he's even ready to do anything. Check, check, check. But he got bonus points for offering music.
"Would you like some music?"
"Ah,hUhhh."
And with this he turned on a little cd player, right next to my face which blasted tango music for 25 minutes. I'm not kidding. Having your teeth cleaned to an accordion playing adds a certain amount of festivity, although I couldn't help but think Art was using this as a potential presentation for the convention.
So with spit sucker, water gun, and toothbrush all in mouth he begins the questioning. WHY must they do this? If you want to be close to people's heads and get to know them, cut hair. Don't put things in my mouth, namely one that sucks spit, and then ask me to dish.
-So Jessica, do you live in SF
-Ah Haaa.
-Were you born here?
-AH.
-Oh no? Where are you from originally?
-AH hay hu hooor
-Oh i love upstate in the fall.
Jesus Art, you're good.
But they don't give toothbrushes anymore which kind of bums me out. Art said if I wanted I could keep the paper bib. FYI, you don't need to take your pants off for that one either. God, they could let you know ahead of time.

potpourri.

Too lazy to put this into any organized form. Just a few things.

-Wore my favorite old jean jacket today, haven't worn it in maybe a year. Here's what I found in the top right buttoned pocket.
*A pair of AirTran wings. a very cool gift.
*The email address of a girl I met on a flight to LA a long time ago. Maybe one of the funniest people I've ever met. The flight attendant actually told us to stop laughing. Well, I never wrote her. Weird the people that pass through our lives, huh?
*A fortune from a fortune cookie reading, "your efforts will be worthwhile." I don't remember getting this but I could see myself saving it so that if my efforts ever did prove to be worthwhile i could be like, 'hey! my fortune called it!'

-David Blaine is under water in a bubble for like a week. MAGIC! do people know about this? I guess my big question would be why? followed by, no-- really. You know he was in the bath after a long day of card tricks and he's all, "holy crap! I have an idea!"

-Sarah is going to China and the weather forecast is SAND. honestly.

-Bought some new CDs at amoeba today. i wasn't able to listen to one of them but took a gamble and it's brilliant! The Earth Is Not A Cold Dead Place by Explosions in the Sky. I banked it all on the little sticker review that read, 'it will kill anyone who ever had a heart.' whoa. it's really beautiful stuff. right up there with the Sigur Rós album, Takk.

-Was coming home tonight and ran into my neighbor getting off this party bus. She works for google and that's their shuttle! it picks them up every morning and drops them off in this huge party bus, i don't know what else to call it. It's like going to prom everyday. Only without the dresses, and you have to do work. But still. What a fun commute!

-saw 2 cars with SU stickers on the windows. i was totally going to write them a windshield note but that would be weird. a lady stopped me once while i was running with a cuse t-shirt on and was like, "Syracuse!" and i was like, "YEAH!" and she was like, "ok, bye." i ran the whole way home laughing.
big gulps, huh?

My Super Sweet 16 And The End of America.

There's something about the way MTV programming is edited that I don't mind watching the same episode of 8th and Ocean six times.
This scares me.
It's obvious the network has worked out some sort of brainwashing technique through fast cuts and pacing to make a generation of viewers watch back to back episodes of "Yo Mamma" for half a day without thinking twice.
I have less than a year before I have to stop watching. I've told myself that 25 is the age that all MTV viewing must cease. It seems appropriate.
I'm reminded continually that I should start waning now. A huge red flag came the other day when Jamie Foxx was on TRL and got everyone to chant 'Tom Cruise' followed by 'Jerry Curl.' I missed the connection because I was yelling at them to shut up and it occurred to me that I didn't need to be watching this.
The same thing happens with The View. When I actually watch this, (which stuns me every time) I end up swearing at the television until I shut it off and think, oh, that was easy.
But I might have to stop my MTV viewing a little ahead of schedule thanks to a show called 'My Super Sweet 16.' If you haven't seen it, you're my personal hero and I urge you to stop reading this and continue saving the world.
My Super Sweet Sixteen is everything that is wrong with America neatly packed into a 60 minute show. Yes, the Bush administration, our dependence on naturally harmful energies, and Star Jones talking, are all problems for the US. But history books will point to this show, as the actual end.
Here's a typical episode:
-Spoiled child asks for party in VIP room at club with trained, iced-out tigers serving virgin mojitos to 600 of her closest friends, while she is flown in via helicopter to meet Kanye West who will sing golddigger, naked. Afterwards, her father presents her with a hardtop lexus convertible with a family of Katrina victims in the trunk who will act as her personal entourage for the year.
The club and the car are the only variables.
I remember I thought my 16th birthday was awesome. Me and Beth had a combined party at my house and 50 people came, and we had 2 sheet cakes, and there was a big snowball fight in the orchard out back, and we cleared the family room and everyone danced including Matt and Mark Maleski who were the best dancers in Brockport.
It was epic.
To this day I still get chills when i hear tracks from Ultimate Dance Party '97.
'Boom Boom Boom' by the Outhere brothers could revive a man from a comatose state.
That's a super sweet medical truth.

Cinco de Mayo.

Any excuse to eat a burrito is ok by me. I usually like to go every cinco de week, but eating for the purposes of celebration is fun. I'm always reminded on this day of my ancestors who were at Puebla for the defeat of the French. They weren't Mexican, and they didn't actually fight, they just picked a very poor time to vacation. But the deal they found on Expedia was too good to pass up. It would be over 100 years until that "dot cooooom" slogan would make any sense to them.
People in SF have a strange loyalty to their taquerias. It's like people in NY with pizza places, or people in Delaware with their, um, something. Everyone thinks theirs is the best.
But seriously, my taqueria is the best.
For a while I was pretty loyal to Casa Mexicana because their fresh salsa CANNOT be beat. Although, Tommy's salsa verde is like dipping a tortilla chip into a liquid Mexican Heaven. But lately Taqueria El Castillito has been unbeatable. They make the best veggie burrito I've ever had in my entire life. It honestly weighs like 3 pounds and it so full of fresh goodness if it had wings, it would be a little foil-wrapped angel in Mexican Heaven.
Sorry for the references. I took a World Religion course called Rice, Beans, and Jesus: The Ideology of Mexican Heaven. I'm just trying to put it to use.
But the reason I keep going back is because the people there are SO nice. and also, because I like to play, "Count the Lady." If they say 'lady' less than 10 times, they win. More than 10, I win. Prizes have yet to be determined, but it's so much fun.
-What do you want, lady?
-Flour tortilla, lady?
-Regular or super, lady?
-Spicy, lady?
-Cheese, lady?
-cilantro, lady?
-what do you have, lady?
-chips, lady?
-something to drink, lady?
-for here, lady?
-thank you lady.
I love it.
So go grab a burrito and a Negra Modelo, it's the least you can do.
oh, and a great little site for the holiday. burritoeater.com

Let's Live Here.

I was flipping through The New York Times Magazine in yesterday's paper and came across an ad for Atlantic City. Actually, it was a 7-page spread, one of those editorial ads where they need disclaimers to remind you that it's not an article. Thanks for the heads up.
The only real reason I stopped to read the entire thing was the absolutely hilarious tag line. The first page of the ad is a birds eye view of the city at night, with the text,
"Atlantic City. Come For The Day, Stay For The Weekend."
That's the best they could do?!!! Atlantic City, Double your time here! stay over night! They're basing the entire campaign on the hopes you'll be so drunk, you can't leave that same day--and anyone who's ever been to AC knows you want to do that almost immediately. One column was called, "The Rebirth of Cool" and described all the new changes. If anything, AC is cool's afterbirth.
Without being too harsh, Atlantic City is a little strip of hell. They bus crazy amounts of elderly people in, to gamble away money they don't really have and the whole thing is just overwhelmingly sad. Plus, it's dirty, and loud, and not fun. STAY THE WEEKEND!
Under a section describing the musical bookings:
"Looking for big name musical talent? Atlantic City has you covered. Snoop Dogg, Patti LaBelle, Neil Diamond, and Kenny G comes to Caesars for one night on May 13th."
Whoa, whoa, whoa. Kenny comes for one night only?? Didn't he get the memo? Stay the effing weekend!
And sorry, were Snoop and Neil Diamond in the same list there? Fo Shizzle Sweet Carolinizzle.
And quick! Name a Patti LaBelle song!
Yea, I couldn't either.
How will we fit all this crap into one day? Well, honey, we'll need to spend the weekend.
On one page it says,
Sleek
Modern
Sophisticated.
Atlantic City.
Which one of these doesn't belong? Oh, we're not playing that? You're actually calling a place with nickel slots sophisticated? Ok, I missed that.
It's a random rant, sorry.
But it's a beautiful day!!! Out on the roof listening to The Sounds. It's a fun little album. Enjoy the sun!!

Here's My Card.

Shout Out to Sabrina Rae for her huge promotion at NYC Opera!!! Not only does she have crazy responsibility, she has an assistant, and the best job title I've ever heard. She is now 'Manager of Major Gifts.' Hi? How cool is that? So whenever anything comes into the opera with a giant bow, she decides what to do with it.
Actually, I have no idea what it means. I like to pretend I know how operas function, but all I can deduce is that they raise a lot of money to spend a lot of money to put on shows for like the same 100 people (using their money).
When she worked at Glimmerglass, I went to see a performance and sat right next to her boss, which I didn't realize until I had finished the whole, "These are broken, mine are broken" routine. She turned to me and said, "This isn't your first opera is it?" and I felt like an 8 year old, and I was like, "Well, it's my first opera today. We had a late start." Very smooth.
Anyway, congrats sister! Can't wait for your business card! It's going to say MAJOR GIFTS on it! oh the pressure, of a birthday present. Anyone who has your card is going to think they have to go in on a pony now. Or at least a really big stuffed pony. ...Pony. (funnier 3x)
But speaking of business cards, I think I'm the last person in the world not to have one. I was at my friend Mike's place the other night and he's an artist so there were a lot of artists there, and they all had cards. It didn't seem very artist-like to have a business card. It's like street performers who have their cd's for sale. I hate that. The pastry chef from work was there and even SHE had a card.
-Suzanne, you make brownies, why do you need a card?
-It's good for business, plus it's free.
It's true! You can get free business cards made. www.vistaprint.com
So obviously I want to do this, but can't think of anything good to put on it. Nessa said it should read: F&B Needs Anticipator. I Know You Need Ketchup Before You Do.
But my real job would be ridiculous so I want something that is an exciting variation of the truth. Hmm, have to think.
Maybe, Jessica Martin
Sister of the Manager Of Major Gifts.
Including but in no way limited to ponies.

This Could Save Your Life.

Just got a mass email from Michelle about a scam where people try to sell you perfume but it's really ether, and when you sniff it, they steal all your belongings. The same thing actually happened to me at the Saks perfume counter. And when I came to, I was naked and had to open an account to charge a new outfit just so I could walk out of the store.
Come on people!!!
If I receive one more mass fwd about how to protect myself from rapists, kidnappers, or identify theft, I'm going to attack someone--and chances are, if you have a ponytail, it will be you. What happened to the 'hey' email? Now it's all, 'Here are ways you could potentially die, thought you should know."
I have a feeling Karla has read a few too many of these emails. Whenever it's dark, she gets her keys out and puts the biggest one between her ring and middle finger. "This will let them know I mean business." Right. Key in the finger. I hear that's what all the insurgents in Iraq are using. The Ace Hardware In Baghdad is making a mint on copies alone.
I've said this before, but I really think the best self-defense can be learned from a precocious child. Not only is it most effective, it is also perhaps, the funniest thing in the world. We call it, Dead Weight.
I was reminded of said technique the other day on the train when a 5-year old was standing with her grandmother. In the stops leading up to theirs the grandma would say, "Almost our stop, get ready." But the child was enjoying the ride and made clear with shakes of the head that she had no intention of getting off.
When the doors opened at their stop, the old lady took the child's hand, made a move for the exit, and the child collapsed. The woman started yelling at the child in Chinese and now took both hands trying to lift her like a sack of potatoes. Nothing but a bobbing motion. The girl just lay there with a faint smile and her eyes closed as her grandmother tried dragging her off the train. It should be noted that closing one's eyes is imperative in that it gives the illusion of death.
The doors were beeping and realizing the urgency, the old lady tried running a little bit, still yelling, and dragging this child down the stairs, the heightened sound effect of lifeless feet hitting each one. When the train rolled away the little girl was lying on the street, eyes squeezed shut, with a huge grin.
Had it not been for the smile, this would have been textbook. If you're ever in trouble, just go deadweight. Your whole body as a boiled noodle. Fall to the ground and just flop around if people try to move you. Actually, this might not work for identity theft, but neither will a freakin key.

Best Text Ever?

Woke up to a text message from my little sister. It read: "90 year old Dorothy got into the showcase with 40 cents."
Back story. Vanessa is maybe the most brilliant mind alive when it comes to guessing prices. Which comes as a constant surprise to me because I don't think she's ever bought anything on her own. Watching Price Is Right with her is just about the most entertaining thing one can do. Not only does she guess the price amounts almost perfectly every time, she guesses what games will be played and calls what products will be used with such clairvoyance you kind of get scared. And the prizes to get up onto the stage? The ones where some people guess a dollar? she ALWAYS knows the exact price. It blows me away.
"Um, how do you know the price for a keyboard and a set of knives."
"They've used that before."
When I watch it with her, tears roll down my face, it's honestly too funny. She has everything planned out for when she'll go on the show. Her run up to contestants row, whether or not she'll play the game, or just walk away, "If it's a grandfather clock, I wouldn't even bother playing. Just get me to the wheel and into the showcase." She's convinced that she would spin a dollar, and takes it personally when people get into the showcase with less than 80 cents.
And the Showcases! HA. If you ever see my little sister, ask her to announce a mock showcase showdown. It is perhaps one of the most brilliant things you will ever hear. She starts with a theme, as they always do, and then goes on to tell a ridiculous story about what happens to a barker beauty all the while including random prizes. She's a funny girl but this is hands down the most hilarious thing she does.
Um, right. Just had to share I guess.
Oh, and have your pets spayed or neutered.

Oh...hello.

So I've been sneaking into work a little later than usual to avoid seeing Laurentiu on his way out. Some might argue that this is immature. I'm simply trying to sidestep an undoubtedly awkward situation for us both. Like running into someone after a random hookup. It's just better for both parties and the elephant in the room if enough time passes so as to pretend it never happened. Particularly for me, so I don't say something like, "yup, we're were kind of engaged there for a second, huh?"
Avoidance and selective memory are the pinnacle of maturity. And also, carrying a check book. Who does that?

I was pleased upon entering to see only Fes. It was a first. Every other day I literally hide to avoid him. He's a mini-bar attendant (a miniature bartender, if you will) who insists on talking to me nonstop even though I can't understand a word he says. It's a mixture of soft-talking, mumbling, and non-English that leaves me screaming at him in my head while forcing a smile on my face. I thought I actually understood him say my name once. It turned out he was saying pasta. But I digress.
So Fes was talking about shoelaces, or cashews, or political reform, ( I like to think it was a combo of the three) and in walks Laurentiu. Shit. Ok, j, play it cool.
I was hoping to avoid you forever.
Don't say that.
We almost got married!
No, not that either.
"Hey." Nice.
"Hello, Jessica." Followed by 25 minutes of silence. Honestly. His shift was over at 3 and he stayed until 3:30 not saying anything.
Finally he says, "So, Jessica, do you not have maybe a friend who will marry me?"
What?! This kid has platinum balls!
"Oh man, kid. You have platinum balls."
LT: Sorry?
Me: Nothing.
Fes: You need wine glasses?
Me: What? No, I'm not talking to you Fes, thank you.
Fes: Cashews.
LT: You can think of no one?
Me: Um, no not really.

So with this he goes into the whole pitch--AGAIN. I thought this was over!! It's like a telemarketer pushing magazines who you've already said no to, shows up at your place of employment to sell you the thing you have no intention of buying. And I was doing everything in my power to avoid the metaphorical Cat Fancy subscription.
And that doesn't even make sense. I just wanted an excuse to say Cat Fancy.
(Note: domestic cats would only be cool if they wore pants and walked on their hind legs at all times. I think we can all agree on that. talk about fancy.) But I digress.
He went on to say, "I know you. They say, what this girl likes to wear? I say, the sneakers. They say, what this girl likes to eat? I say, the cereals."
I had to laugh. You know that scene in When Harry Met Sally when he rushes to find her on New Year's Eve to tell her all the things he loves about her? The was my own sad little Romanian version of that.
I love that you likes the converse! I love that you likes the corn pops! And it's not because I'm lonely, and it's not because it's New Year's Eve. I came here today, because I was scheduled to work 7-3. But also, because when you realize your Visa has expired and you will be deported unless you spend the rest of your life with someone, (but really, 6-12 months, tops) you want to take fake relationship pictures and get married in Vegas and interviewed by INS, as soon as possible.

Preheat peeps at 325

Besides the obvious -- lack of baby pictures, mind blanks on your name during introductions, etc., you become aware very early of what it means to be a middle child.
For me, it came every Easter when we would search for baskets. We never did the egg thing, it was always a basket hunt. And mine was always in the oven. My sisters would search everywhere, my mom would often rearrange furniture to hide theirs. I always walked directly to the oven and pulled it out.
"Oh, Vicki you found it!"
"It's Jessica."
But if there are two universals about kids it's that they love to be timed--with anything--and they love to look for shit.
So the idea of a hunt for gifts carried over to all our birthdays. Our presents would be hidden in various places around the house to add to the fun. It was exciting to run around hunting for glimpses of wrapping paper, until it ceased to be, and we'd cry.
Realizing the whole house was too daunting, and all we really wanted was our stuff, the hiding places were narrowed down to 2 rooms, the living room and the kitchen. I think the kitchen was included solely for the purposes of my gifts.
This tradition continued as we grew up and the hiding spots could be listed with about as much effort as reciting the alphabet. It lasted through the eye-rolling angst of the preteens, "Oh, under the sofa cushion?! Good one mom--God!"
Through the high school, "No, I'm too old for that. But, ok, hide them. No--really, hide them."
And I tried to carry it to college but my freshman year roommate was not feeling it.
-have you seen my paper?
-HAPPY BIRTHDAY!
-no, seriously. I'm late for class and this is a huge deal.
-Then you better get to looking! cold, colder.
-Idiot.
My parents sent me a package and it got here a few days ago. They called to say not to open it until tomorrow. Right. Who gets a package in the mail (maybe one of the best things in the world, right?) and just lets it sit there? If anyone has that much restraint I'd like to meet you. Wait, no I wouldn't. Because you're probably not fun at all.
So they sent a basket that included an incredibly scary bunny pez-dispenser that I can't really look at after dark.
The note attached said, "This was in the oven." Cute.
Followed by, "Happy Easter, Jennifer."

Get The Hell Out of Dodge.

A while back while running in golden gate park, a homeless man went out of his way to trip me. When I got up, i gave him this confused look of disappointment. Not so much anger, just more of a, "why would you do that to me?"
Laurentiu gave me the same look today when we met up and I told him I wouldn't marry him.
To be on the receiving end of that look is really hard. honestly, i felt terrible. If you've ever been lost or desperate in a foreign country, you know how hard it is to ask favors of people. You're kind of at their mercy. Granted, this was a huge favor, but still. If there was any other way that I could legally help him out, I would. Fraud just isn't for me. I can't fake laugh, how can I fake a marriage?
But he kept going on and made me feel so bad, I started to get pissed. I feel like I'm constantly apologizing. My whole job is to anticipate complaints, and when I fail to do so, say sorry like a million times. I'm so over it. I'm forever trying to find a universal truth and I think I've hit upon one. People are babies.
In the service industry, you're paid to apologize and smile when people do one or all of these things:
1) whine
2) Complain in hopes of getting free shit
3) Be babies.
And rich people are by far and away, the biggest most ridiculous babies. They're like those babies who wear glasses. Why does that child need corrective lenses? Will it be reading later, before it poops in it's pants? But I'm paid to listen to these people cry, often literally, over spilled milk.
Tonight a man called to yell at me because I "lied to him" about the grouper. The menu says grouper, we were substituting a halibut, he refused to hear it the 9 times I said it, so I just let him continue to say grouper. It's like when you're talking to someone and they keep calling you the wrong name, eventually you'll just start responding to 'Samantha.'
Anyway, it all hit me all at once that this is my life. This man, yelling at me on the phone over a piece of fish, this is what I do.
And I'm not sure if it was the combination of my failed marriage and the complaint. Or the weather, or the 'time to bake the donuts' routine I've been stuck in, but I'm so over it.
I'm in full-blown office space mode now people, I'm serious. I'm just looking for the most entertaining way to get fired, and then I think I'm packing up. It's late, I know, but you get flashes of clarity when a wealthy man is calling you a liar, and you say things like, "dude, I can't marry you," and feel guilty about it.