Monday, June 27, 2011

Things I Would Discuss If I Had Someone To Talk To

-- The song You're So Vain: Doesn't it defeat itself? It's like a spiraling paradox box of nonsense. Which I suppose is the point.

-- The song Straight Up by Paula: I get "hit and run" now; like..."hit it and quit it"?

-- Why eggs are so delicious: Why are they so good?

-- Why the radio only plays love songs: Especially late at, man?

-- How I don't like to burn bridges, but when it happens, I burn the hell out of them.

-- How every time I fall in love, I think it's for real...but have I ever really felt like that?

-- Andy Grammer: "You gotta keep your head up (oh oh), and you can let your hair down (oh oh?). You'll turn out fine."

Monday, June 20, 2011

I Have the House to Myself!, what to do with it?

To-Do List for Being Home Alone:

-- Clean house in my underwear

-- Play the piano (for the first time in months)

-- Eat dinner. Dinner = chicken salad and a bunless cheeseburger.

-- Take a long walk with my dogs

-- Watch Sesame Street's Sing Yourself Silly and Veggie Tales' Larryboy on VHS

Accomplished? All of it.

Sunday, June 19, 2011

3:10 AM, Father's Day

I tend to forget that normal people aren't awake at three in the morning; and they're usually neither willing nor able to have a conversation at that time.

In other news, Happy Father's Day, Chef. I love you -- even though we don't talk about it much. I had fun golfing with you today.

Saturday, June 11, 2011

Places I've Cleaned at Work (in chronological order)

I work in an optometrist's office owned by a family friend and neighbor. The owner, my eye doctor and now my boss as well, is only slightly crazy if you're a patient, but once you start working for him he's a real nut job. Every day is an adventure for me at work, and my life would be so boring if I didn't have this job.

I've been working at this place for nearly three months now, and so far these are some of the more interesting cleaning jobs I've had to do:

1. The corners of the exam room, which is carpeted, with wet paper towels. The Doc thought I needed to do something "productive" and degrading, since I'm the new girl.

2. The employee's bathroom, after I let a patient use it because I didn't know not to. I was told that syphilis is spread that way and if I had to clean it I'd never do it again.

3. The front floor, right in front of the counter (also carpeted), after a kid and his dad spilled red Slushy everywhere then threatened to sue when Doc kicked them out.

Thursday, June 9, 2011


sleeper boxen murmur yumpy
bdubs irrelephant phantastsic phantasy etc comphy

Sorry, I just had to get that out. I actually had a wonderful, wonderful day. I'll probably write all about it tomorrow, if I have time. Living well is the best revenge, and what better time to live well than a summer like this one? Hopefully I'll have some pictures up soon too, and the next installment (or maybe all of them, starting from the beginning) of my car saga.

Happy Thursday.

Wednesday, June 8, 2011

Dear Jerk

Dear Jerk,
All I wanted to do, at the beginning and at the end, was make you feel better and help your problems go away. Now it seems that I've caused you more problems and potentially made you feel worse.
I'm sorry that I can't just be angry like I should be.
All you really needed was a friend, and I failed.
But fuck you anyway, kind of.
Your Mur

Tuesday, June 7, 2011

Red Bull

My boss loves Red Bull. He drinks it like water almost the entire time he's at the office. He keeps four-packs in the mini fridge in our lab and frequently offers a can to patients as they're leaving. It's kind of...his "thing."
My boss also has a rule about taking food and drink out of the lab to the front of the office, where we deal with patients, ring up sales, adjust glasses, etc. He thinks it doesn't look professional, munching or slurping while dealing with patients, and there's always a risk that we could spill something on the computer or someone's file. The rule would make sense -- if he followed it.
Yesterday I was standing up front preparing files for today's patients, completely minding my own business, when my boss ambled past me with a Red Bull in hand. At the end of the day on his way out, he usually stops by the register to print out a report and see how much he made that day. As this was an ordinary occurrence, I didn't pay him much mind until I heard, "Uhhm uh-oh." I peeked over my shoulder and saw him standing there, Red Bull in one hand, staring at the cash register, which was covered in liquid. I quickly looked back to my work and pretended to not hear him. He tried to wipe up the mess, but I don't think he realized how much he spilled, because he missed the splashes on the counter behind him, the bit that was on the phone, and only noticed the puddle on the floor after he stepped in it a couple times.
After swiping the area with some paper towels a couple times, he went back to trying to print out the day's report. He pushed a couple buttons, which didn't do anything, then pushed one of the number keys. The register made its error sound, a high-pitched "eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee" noise. He pushed a couple more buttons then shut the register off. He did this several more times while I pretended to bury my head in work then finally went in the back so he wouldn't see me laughing.
After several minutes of pushing buttons, turning the register on and off, and trying to stop the error message with no avail, he picked up the phone to call one of the other ladies that works there. "Maybe Laura will know something about this," I heard him mutter.
"Hi Laura. I have a problem. The register is...acting up." He explained the situation about the beeping and buttons not working and asked if she knew anything about trying to fix it. Finally I heard him explain, "'s the thing. I might have dribbled a little Red Bull on the register, and I think it might have gone under the New Balance key." Please note that the drink had actually puddled on most of the front of the register, and the New Balance key wasn't the problem at all.
After a lot of hemming and hawing and deciding the problem was unfixable for the time being and he would just leave it for Laura to deal with in the morning, boss man made to leave. "Doc!" I called, just as he was walking out the door. " do you want me to do about running the report and everything tonight?" He stared at me. " a question." Long pause. "Laura will do it in the morning," and out he walked.
Later on I was making reminder calls to patients to confirm their appointments for today, and as I was talking on the phone I noticed that the speaker part was dripping Red Bull. As I looked around I noticed a lot of splatters that we missed before, and a stain on the carpet that the doc didn't quite manage to make go away when he was scrubbing at it. The entire front section of the office smelled like Red Bull, and the carpet was a little sticky. I avoided that area for the rest of the night and kept myself busy filing things away until it was time to close.
We'll see if he follows his own rules from now on (but somehow I doubt it).

Edit: tl;dr? My boss spilled Red Bull on our cash register and f***ed it up. It was real funny.

Sunday, June 5, 2011

I Want a Puppy

The other day while I was at work, I heard a woman outside in the mall hallway talking on the phone with who I'm assuming was her husband. This woman wasn't that young, and she had a small child with her who appeared to be her son. Her conversation with the hubby went along these lines:

*dials phone*
"I want a puppy."
"No, it's so cute, it's a Pomeranian-Something mix."
"I'm in love with a dog! Can we please get it? I'll take care of it!"
"No, it only costs $400, and I have over a thousand in my account right now!"
"Have I told you how much I love you today?"
"Well, I just think that Alex [son?] needs a playmate. He can help take care of it."
"It's so adorable! It's a Pomeranian mix!"
"I'm going over to Wal-Mart right now to get a bed and toys and stuff."
"I love you so much."
"Ok, ok, I'm going to go now. I love you! It's so cute!"

At this point, her son was sitting on the other end of bench with his chin sitting on a fisted hand. When the lady hung up, she didn't even look at him. I expected at least a celebratory high-five or something, but she just said "come on" without even glancing his way and took off towards the pet store.

Thursday, June 2, 2011


“You may not be her first, her last, or her only. She loved before; she may love again. But if she loves you now, what else matters? She’s not perfect - you aren’t either, and the two of you may never be perfect together, but if she can make you laugh, cause you to think twice and admit to being human and making mistakes, hold onto her and give her the most you can. She may not be thinking about you every second of the day, but she will give you a part of her that she knows you can break - her heart. So don’t hurt her, don’t change her, don’t analyze and don’t expect more than she can give. Smile when she makes you happy, let her know when she makes you mad, and miss her when she’s not there.”

- Bob Marley

Happy Thursday

This is what I did today.

Wednesday, June 1, 2011

Wacky Wednesday

I spent an hour today in our new hammock with my iPod and sketchpad, trying to reclaim my inspiration and creativity. Then I ate a chicken and cheese wrap and went to work.

My boss likes to make fun of me because I'm an English major; today he told a really funny joke. He said, "I read a funny joke in a magazine the other day. It went, 'The scientist asks, "Why does it work?" The engineer asks, "How does it work?" The English major asks, "Would you like fries with that?"' hahah!" He thinks he's really clever. Because we were in front of a patient I tried to laugh it off. "That's real funny, Doc," I said, smiling and trying to look busy. He went on to say that I was doing work there, though, and how I must be using some sort of analytical skill at my job, so it's not all bad. In essence, my degree isn't useless because I'm really good at alphabetizing files at work.

After work my sister and I went to karaoke at a restaurant/bar by my house to watch the locals get drunk and make fools of themselves. Luckily for them, we plan on doing the same next week; we just need some time to practice and work up our courage.

Everything is Never as it Seems

I had to pick up Susan again. I was supposed to once before, but it didn't work out. I think she found another ride.
I was parallel parked along a curb by a bus stop, and as I got in my car and started to drive away, I noticed that my windshield was cracked. Not like a normal hairline crack, either, but a crack like what the earth looks like when the plates are shifting or lava is about to burst out of the ground. The glass was puckered inward and cracked into huge chunks that, instead of falling, kept sliding around within the frame of the windshield.
But I had to pick up Susan again. Last time I thought she was at the school, but now I realized that it was a school that was also a hospital that was also an apartment complex that was in the same general place as Juniata Elementary is here. I ran into the building, down hallways and around corners, trying to get to the far side of the school/hospital/apartments. Why didn't I just drive around to where I was supposed to pick her up? I don't know. But somehow I had a slip of paper that said I wasn't supposed to pick her up there, I was supposed to pick her up on West Adam Street, in town, at her new place of employment. But I realized....
At some point I realized that this was his new apartment complex, that he lived here now. When I got to the end of the building I ran up flight of stairs, intending to turn at the top of the stairs, just to run past his place, go down that hallway and go down the flight of stairs at the other end, which would bring me to the doors where I was supposed to pick up Susan. But I got to the top and there he was, his face hidden by one of the double doors that encloses the wide stairways in schools. He was doing push-ups with his head to the door. It makes sense, because he always did try to do some push-ups every now and again; why shouldn't he do them out in the hall right before he goes to work? I ran back downstairs and around in circles for a while -- or so it seemed -- before heading back to the hallway directly under his, on the first floor. There he was again, walking towards the door at the other end. I knew the back of his head perfectly, his hair, the curve of his shoulders and the step of his stride, his hands in his coat pockets and that little bounce in his step that has nothing to do with joy and everything to do with a self-conscious, practiced carelessness. I had a brief flash of running down the hallway parallel to that one and "bumping into" him by the doors at the other end, but what if he got there before I did? I called out his name. He must have recognized my voice, because he paused a second before he turned; turned in that slow way of his. We stared at each other, and I couldn't tell whether or not he was surprised to see me. I wanted to explain, to tell him that I wasn't stalking him, that I was here to pick up Susan. But we just stared at each other. Finally he said, "What?" but I had taken my phone out to dial the number on the piece of paper where Susan worked now. He said "What" again, and as I turned away, he laughed.
Then I was gone, running down the hallway to the door when I was supposed to pick up Susan -- I don't recall moving in any way other than a run the entire time. I put the phone up to my ear as it rang once and got an automated system to an abortion clinic. "Ah!" I thought. "That's where she works now." I thought this to myself with the same air that someone might smile and nod when told what ice cubes are for: "Ah! You put them in your drink. Very nice." Smile. Nod. Turn and talk to the person next to you. But I was frustrated, because I couldn't get a hold of her, and how was I supposed to pick up Susan if I couldn't find her?
I burst through the doors and weaved between the students waiting for buses or cars to pick them up and take them home. To the left, in the part of the lawn where they were doing construction, I saw Coach Jim, talking to another man. I ran up to him, panting, "Which part of town has the street names that are guys' names?" Jim laughed, told me to calm down. I said, "I know the trees are over there," and pointed behind the school. He nodded and pointed down another street. "And those are all butterflies!" he said, a little proudly. I asked again where the boys' names were, asked if they were downtown. He nodded and I asked where Adam Street was. Maybe I only asked it in my mind, because I don't remember getting an answer.
I don't remember much of anything after that, actually. I must not have gotten Susan, again. When I got the call to pick her up, I was excited, because I hadn't seen her in so long, and I really wanted to talk to her. I wanted to tell her that I've been hanging out with Danny, that we're friends again now, and tell her what we talk about. I wanted to ask her about her life and her boyfriend and if she still reads her books. Then we could talk about books, and maybe have a campfire, like before. But I didn't get to her in time -- again.
Maybe next time.

*most names are changed, for some reason