The Luxury of Leisure

So, he doesn't actually HAVE my phone number, though he COULD have gotten it with only a little embarrassment. And to be fair, I could have gotten his number in exactly the same way. But I decided to be sneaky instead and now we're exchanging messages online--the old fashioned way--with Myspace. I am clearly twelve years old.

But basically I've been obsessing over something completely meaningless, mostly because I'm bored. Completely utterly bored, waiting for my job to start. And he, he is in a different city (possibly with a different girl) every day. And I'm not even exaggerating here. He is literally in a different city every single day. I'm only guessing about the girls.

When I start work, this leisurely time obsessing over a meaningless boy will probably seem like a time of luxury. Until then, I'll continue to check Myspace repeatedly throughout the day, cursing people who actually have lives and aren't sending me messages.

Funny

He told me I was funny.
He was glad I came.
Then in the darkness, he softly touched my hand.
And I felt more fire than I have in a long, long time.
I'm pretty sure he won't call.

Working on V-Day

Carrie and I were talking by the register instead of doing work when an older gentleman came walking by.

man: Wouldn't you girls rather be home with your husbands getting flowers than getting $20 an hour working.

carrie: We don't get $20 and hour.

me: And we don't have husbands.

Turns out older gentleman has been married to his wife for sixty years. I guess he must be doing something right. I had to work in the jewelry counter today for the first time in ages. All the men and their last minute gifts, and the women who had to buy their own gemstones. I don't know, I think I'd rather get jewelry (or flowers or whatever) on any other day besides Valentine's day, but maybe that's just me.

in Philly they call me "baby"

Me:"I'm from Iowa, I should be used to it."
Hotel Shuttle Driver: "Baby, I don't care where you from. Cold is cold."

Note to Self

Multiple long island iced teas after a dinner of an Auntie Anne's pretzel is never a good idea.

drink'n'text

(Them) 11:03pm est: What u doin
(Them) 11:10pm est: At sparkle bar.

(Me) 11:46pm est (6:46 Hawaii time): In Hawaii. See you next week.

The three stooges must have been bored. We only keep them around cause they are funny. And maybe we're a little bored too.

Torn

I don't think I ever realized how hard it would be to come back to America after three years away. Not emotionally or anything like that, I mean professionally. Where the hell are the jobs? I don't really regret anything in my past, but boy I wish I had been smarter about choosing a major in college. And not only that, but, been a bit more realistic. I need a job, but I think I also need another adventure. Last month, I almost became a flight attendant. Almost, because I didn't get the job. It would have been the perfect career move for me, and I still don't understand how I didn't get it. It was extremely competitive and I think maybe I was just under the cut.

Moving on. I've found a few new possibilities in the last few days, so hopefully something pans out. I just can't see a reason for me to be working at the store. I mean, in the grand scheme of things. Clearly I need money, and that's why I'm working there. But if everything you do in life prepares you for something else, I just don't see what the store can do for my future. Unless it's to teach me humility.....

In any case, I'll be back in town tomorrow and then off to work on Friday and the store will have to be my life for awhile longer.

Openings

Kate and I have a to-do list for the year. In no particular order:
-new jobs
-new city
-new men
-new house


I have no idea where I'll be a year from now. But I'm open to suggestions.

Taking What I Can Get

For me, holidays at home mean one thing: drinking at the local bar. Classy, I know. But there is only so much family togetherness I can take. Of course I only go out if I can find some of my high school gals to go with. Out at the bar right after Christmas or Thanksgiving is basically like a bad high school reunion. You never see the people you want to.

In high school, I wasn't popular, and I wasn't uncool, I wasn't a nerd or a jock, I wasn't pretty or hideous, I wasn't fat, but I certainly wasn't skinny! And that is why, perhaps, I take a sick twisted delight in playing the game, "which skinny popular girl has gained the most weight?" I know, I'm awful. But I can't help it.

Sitting in the bar with my friends, I say, "You know, I'm glad I looked the way I did in High school. There was nowhere to go but up!"

Totally Freaked Out.

Last week, Kate dated a guy who ended up to probably be a homeless alcoholic. This week, I've got a guy who has turned out to be un-happily married, wanting me to spare him an hour of my time. Un-happily married, with children. He came to see me at work tonight--twice. I don't even know what else to say, except that I'm totally freaked out.