I may have to murder my acting partner. It's at the point of the show now that it's kind of just ridiculous if you don't A. know your lines B. know when to exit the stage/come back on 3. know what scene comes next. D. listen to or do anything the director originally told you to do.
I am so beyond frustrated. It's anger inducing, and I don't even get angry!!! And when he says, "chill out, you're being a perfectionist" I want to strangle him because I'm not trying to get it perfect, I'm trying perform the play that we were given- I'm just trying to get through the damn thing so kids understand your ramblings. It's not improv. If it were, that'd be fine. But it's not. And it's not a matter of being perfect, it's a matter of performing a play that looks remotely like the one given. It's knowing what's going on in the scene so that IF you DO mess up a line or forget one you can give one that sounds remotely like the one you were supposed to say. OR being conscience enough to know what happens next so you can make it up. Not repeating yourself. Not going back and adding the line later because you're so sure that you need to get your all important line of "what does this mean?" out which has no real necessity to the plot once I've already saved your ass!
I have no trust or faith in my partner. And seeing as how there is only two people in the show- that really sucks. And I really hate not being able to trust my partner. What if I forget a line?!?! Dear lord, the whole show goes to shit. So there is really no room for error.
However, now that I've bitched, I must focus on the good. I MUST!
This should be my new mantra:
The important thing is that the kids still like it. The important thing is that the kids still like it. The important thing is that the kids still like it. The important thing is that the kids still like it. The important thing is that the kids still like it.
OR
This experience is improving your skills as an actress. You will only get better because of it. This experience is improving your skills as an actress. You will only get better because of it. This experience is improving your skills as an actress. You will only get better because of it. This experience is improving your skills as an actress. You will only get better because of it.
It's going to be a long summer.
Thursday, June 28, 2007
Tuesday, June 26, 2007
Parents Today
The news is FILLED with crazy parents today.
1. A mom in Tennessee was fed up with her teenage daughter's bad behaviour and felt she had tried everything to get her to change a bit. A. The girl is 13- she's obviously going to act up, but still this I thought, was brilliant. Say what you want about how TERRIBLE it is for the girl and blah blah blah, but it's not like she's hitting her or tearing her down. It'll teach the girl a little humility, and I like it. Kids are baby-ed WAY too much these days being told they are "special" and "can do no wrong" ANYWAY. The mom made her daughter stand outside with a sign that said, ""I don't obey my parents, I'm a liar. I steal from my mom. I have a bad attitude." And while I think she could have written "I lied" instead of "I'm a liar." - I hate to pigeon hole, I think it's brilliant. Apparently she's also making the girl wear it to church on Tuesday as a punishment. ha!!!
2. This was actually in the news yesterday, and I heard it on the radio. A couple from New Zealand decided they wanted to have an unconventional name for their impending child and thus decided to use the happiest moment of their lives (apparently it was their reaction when they first saw the baby on the sonogram) to name the child, "4real". No, I'm not kidding, they didn't even want to try and make it "Fahreal" or "Forreal" they wanted to put a fucking number in the poor bebe's name!!! WHO DOES THAT?!?!? Thass soooo crazy I don't even know where to begin. We have enough Lemon-jellos and Toshibas (no offense to those named that, I just feel bad for you and your parents should be shot) in this world without adding numbers to names!!! Thankfully the New Zealand court system would not allow the couple to make the baby's official name "4real" on the grounds that names should not have any numerals in them. So officially that won't be her name, I just fear that this little girl will actually go by "4real" until she turns 16, realizes what a terrible name she has and go on a murdering rampage wherein she stabs her parents 4 times each screaming, "THERE'S 4 FOR YOU!!! HOW DO YOU LIKE THE NUMBER NOW?!!?!"
3. Lastly a baby girl in London was given 25 nicknames all of them names of famous boxers. Her first name is Autumn, which is already bad enough. I think the only seasonal name I like is Summer. Autumn is my favorite season, but I would never deem to name my child that. Jeez-oo. The girl's full name is Autumn Sullivan Corbett Fitzsimmons Jeffries Hart Burns Johnson Willard Dempsey Tunney Schmeling Sharkey Carnera Baer Braddock Louis Charles Walcott Marciano Patterson Johansson Liston Clay Frazier Foreman Brown. Apparently the mom is hoping she'll have a "sense of humor about it" - and while this isn't near as bad as naming your child 4real, and actually kind of a cool in an off the wall way, I still think these parents are setting their children up for a life of torment.
1. A mom in Tennessee was fed up with her teenage daughter's bad behaviour and felt she had tried everything to get her to change a bit. A. The girl is 13- she's obviously going to act up, but still this I thought, was brilliant. Say what you want about how TERRIBLE it is for the girl and blah blah blah, but it's not like she's hitting her or tearing her down. It'll teach the girl a little humility, and I like it. Kids are baby-ed WAY too much these days being told they are "special" and "can do no wrong" ANYWAY. The mom made her daughter stand outside with a sign that said, ""I don't obey my parents, I'm a liar. I steal from my mom. I have a bad attitude." And while I think she could have written "I lied" instead of "I'm a liar." - I hate to pigeon hole, I think it's brilliant. Apparently she's also making the girl wear it to church on Tuesday as a punishment. ha!!!
2. This was actually in the news yesterday, and I heard it on the radio. A couple from New Zealand decided they wanted to have an unconventional name for their impending child and thus decided to use the happiest moment of their lives (apparently it was their reaction when they first saw the baby on the sonogram) to name the child, "4real". No, I'm not kidding, they didn't even want to try and make it "Fahreal" or "Forreal" they wanted to put a fucking number in the poor bebe's name!!! WHO DOES THAT?!?!? Thass soooo crazy I don't even know where to begin. We have enough Lemon-jellos and Toshibas (no offense to those named that, I just feel bad for you and your parents should be shot) in this world without adding numbers to names!!! Thankfully the New Zealand court system would not allow the couple to make the baby's official name "4real" on the grounds that names should not have any numerals in them. So officially that won't be her name, I just fear that this little girl will actually go by "4real" until she turns 16, realizes what a terrible name she has and go on a murdering rampage wherein she stabs her parents 4 times each screaming, "THERE'S 4 FOR YOU!!! HOW DO YOU LIKE THE NUMBER NOW?!!?!"
3. Lastly a baby girl in London was given 25 nicknames all of them names of famous boxers. Her first name is Autumn, which is already bad enough. I think the only seasonal name I like is Summer. Autumn is my favorite season, but I would never deem to name my child that. Jeez-oo. The girl's full name is Autumn Sullivan Corbett Fitzsimmons Jeffries Hart Burns Johnson Willard Dempsey Tunney Schmeling Sharkey Carnera Baer Braddock Louis Charles Walcott Marciano Patterson Johansson Liston Clay Frazier Foreman Brown. Apparently the mom is hoping she'll have a "sense of humor about it" - and while this isn't near as bad as naming your child 4real, and actually kind of a cool in an off the wall way, I still think these parents are setting their children up for a life of torment.
The Office - Episode #3 - Bathroom Etiquette Guest Starring Ivana VonVana
And now, a guest spot, which will be going to my good friend Ivana (names are changed to protect my friends from mass murderers scanning the internet for easy targets) :
*names have been changed to protect the unhygenic.
I must also add my own two cents about a phenomena my best friend A. and I like to call, "the work poop." I, being raised a lady and taught not to discuss bodily functions once past the age of five, initially balked at this idea as the whole thing seems incredibly awkward and I try to avoid doing #2 at work at all costs lest someone walk in - the whole thing just weirds me out. I like to use the bathroom in private. HOWEVER, he pointed out such a valid point I forced to concede and now embrace the idea with open arms. The other day he told me he had made approximately $5.00 while pooping at work. WOW! I said. That's amazing! And he was quick to point out that where else on earth can one get paid for pooping?!?! It's the greatest thing ever, and he feels no need to hurry up and get back to his desk, because he is afforded this right to poop at work, and no one will take it away from him damnit! So my position has changed and I say, "Yes! Please, pay me to poop! I can use the time spent in the loo to calculate exactly how much I make a day excreting waste at work!!"
Miss Sugah, please write a blog re: office bathroom ettiquite.
for example, why is it that everytime i open a stall, there is approx 1 gallon of urine on the seat? this is NOT, contrary to popular belief, a texaco station. there is absolutely no reason a woman should walk in there and start peeing on everything. you work in this establishment and being that you are here for 8+ hours, I'd venture to guess you will frequent that same stall you desecrated at least one more time today. perhaps it is comforting to return and see your urine mixed in with those of your co-workers? the kind of thing upper management would call a team-building experience, no?
also... you had better believe i SEE you walk out of the stall and not wash your hands, Sue*. oh, and i also see you reach your urine-soaked fingers into the m&m bowl during Sally's* make-your-own-ice-cream-sundae birthday celebration in the conference room. that is NOT team-building. that is team germ-spreading.
I must also add my own two cents about a phenomena my best friend A. and I like to call, "the work poop." I, being raised a lady and taught not to discuss bodily functions once past the age of five, initially balked at this idea as the whole thing seems incredibly awkward and I try to avoid doing #2 at work at all costs lest someone walk in - the whole thing just weirds me out. I like to use the bathroom in private. HOWEVER, he pointed out such a valid point I forced to concede and now embrace the idea with open arms. The other day he told me he had made approximately $5.00 while pooping at work. WOW! I said. That's amazing! And he was quick to point out that where else on earth can one get paid for pooping?!?! It's the greatest thing ever, and he feels no need to hurry up and get back to his desk, because he is afforded this right to poop at work, and no one will take it away from him damnit! So my position has changed and I say, "Yes! Please, pay me to poop! I can use the time spent in the loo to calculate exactly how much I make a day excreting waste at work!!"
The Office - Episode #2: Cup Debate
So while I'm on the subject of offices I feel I must relate a scene that proves my life is essentially a deleted scene from either the movie Office Space or the show The Office - both of which I love and have always loved, though never fully appreciated until I worked in such an environment.
Case in point -
The other day the "management team" (I don't get paid anywhere near enough to be considered a manager, simply, part of the team) sat down in the conference room for our weekly meeting, meant to be used as a time to catch up about what's going on, make sure everyone is on the same page, voice any concerns etc. One brave soul brought up the never ending discussion/subject of CUPS. So, being the democratically (HA!) run office that we are a discussion ensued as to the use of the cups, why we keep running out so quickly and what can be done about it. See the cups get delivered by our partner company and they are supposed to bring it over to us when they get deliveries, but the problem is we are apparently the red-headed step child and the cups don't get brought over unless someone from our office calls over to get them. Then they disappear like no one has ever seen a cup before. Someone will literally go in, get a drink and then throw their cup away instead of keeping it for the day.
Not wanting this to be a major discussion I raised a point that I thought could be implemented and then we could move on. I said, "I have an idea. How about we buy some plastic cups, some sponges and some dishsoap. That way everyone can have their own cup and be responsible for washing it at the end of the day etc. We have lots of cabinet space, We'll cut costs by not buying paper cups, cut down on our waste, and all around be a more "green" office!" This was met with a good response and I thought the 5 min. problem/suggestion was over. OH NO, IT WASN'T! The conversation on the validity of using plastic cups/forcing people to bring in their own mugs/cups etc VS. the continuation of the paper cups and how to get them over here as we needed them by encouraging people to use only one cup per day. The conversation continued for 20 mins!!!!! I was astounded. I said nothing else. I stared at the blank used-to-be-white walls and silently prayed the fire alarm would go off (for real, not in the fake way it does periodically throughout the day) and we'd all be forced down to the street while our building burnt to the ground. I managed to catch the eye of our box office manager and he had the same expression I had and we both burst into laughter. Not appreciated by the others who were still in the heart of the manner in an earnest discussion. We quieted down trying to stifle giggles and eye rolls, much like I was back in middle school and the meeting continued.
But seriously, doesn't this sound like a lost scene from The Office?!?!
Case in point -
The other day the "management team" (I don't get paid anywhere near enough to be considered a manager, simply, part of the team) sat down in the conference room for our weekly meeting, meant to be used as a time to catch up about what's going on, make sure everyone is on the same page, voice any concerns etc. One brave soul brought up the never ending discussion/subject of CUPS. So, being the democratically (HA!) run office that we are a discussion ensued as to the use of the cups, why we keep running out so quickly and what can be done about it. See the cups get delivered by our partner company and they are supposed to bring it over to us when they get deliveries, but the problem is we are apparently the red-headed step child and the cups don't get brought over unless someone from our office calls over to get them. Then they disappear like no one has ever seen a cup before. Someone will literally go in, get a drink and then throw their cup away instead of keeping it for the day.
Not wanting this to be a major discussion I raised a point that I thought could be implemented and then we could move on. I said, "I have an idea. How about we buy some plastic cups, some sponges and some dishsoap. That way everyone can have their own cup and be responsible for washing it at the end of the day etc. We have lots of cabinet space, We'll cut costs by not buying paper cups, cut down on our waste, and all around be a more "green" office!" This was met with a good response and I thought the 5 min. problem/suggestion was over. OH NO, IT WASN'T! The conversation on the validity of using plastic cups/forcing people to bring in their own mugs/cups etc VS. the continuation of the paper cups and how to get them over here as we needed them by encouraging people to use only one cup per day. The conversation continued for 20 mins!!!!! I was astounded. I said nothing else. I stared at the blank used-to-be-white walls and silently prayed the fire alarm would go off (for real, not in the fake way it does periodically throughout the day) and we'd all be forced down to the street while our building burnt to the ground. I managed to catch the eye of our box office manager and he had the same expression I had and we both burst into laughter. Not appreciated by the others who were still in the heart of the manner in an earnest discussion. We quieted down trying to stifle giggles and eye rolls, much like I was back in middle school and the meeting continued.
But seriously, doesn't this sound like a lost scene from The Office?!?!
The Office - Episode #1: The Arctic Tundra
The person who sits in the cube behind me apparently reigns supreme over the thermostat in my little square of cubes. He assures me he keeps it set at 76 degrees (his clock has a thermometer on it) and that that is perfectly normal, and he never changes it. That would be fine if I didn't think he was LYING. There is no way it is more than like 66 degrees in here. Otherwise if I came in wearing long pants and a long sleeved shirt I would be FINE, but I'm NOT. I often end the day with fingers that are numb and turning a lovely shade of purple. I kid you not, my hands are numb by the end of the day. As it is I've only been in the office for approximately 1.5 hours and I get already feel the goosebumps starting on my upper arms (though today I am in a short sleeved dress, so fie on me for not dressing properly when the temperature OUTside is supposed to be 95!!). The reason I question his ability to keep it set on 76 is the fact that the actual gauge/box thingie is BEHIND his cube wall and you have to reach down behind it to adjust it. HOW DO YOU KNOW ITS SET AT 76?!?!! YOU CAN'T. And I'm turning into a cube of ice because of it. I started bringing a sweater to work, the sad thing is that even with my homeless grandma sweater my fingers are still freezing, what's the next step - gloves?!?
Monday, June 25, 2007
DUH DUH DUH!
Ok so this is really kind of stupid, but I ADORE groundhogs (a whole post in and of itself) and this, which I think looks like a whistlepig but might be something else, while at first was only mildly amusing, I watched it a couple more times and was soon laughing my head off. It's good for at least a chuckle.
The Summertime Blues
Summers are generally so carefree to me. When you live near/at a beach growing up summers just have a different feeling than if you live somewhere else. It's so glorious, and almost unexplainable. It's a state of mind, that's for damn sure. I don't think I'll ever recover. Maybe it's just because I am in a job that doesn't "feel" like summer.
My first summer job was working at a seafood place. I worked the counter, and had to deal with a 77 year old senile woman who for no other reason than it amused her, set out to make everyone around her's life miserable. Her husband, on the other hand, adored me, for whatever reason- he didn't often like anyone, I think I won him over by my refusal to stop smiling when he or Miss A (as we all called the woman) ordered me to stick my hand in the sink where shrimp were thawing in luke warm water so that I might break them apart gently as the ice melted. This resulted in my left arm smelling of shrimp and turning blue and red due to the ice/spiky shrimp tales that would prick me. Also it was pickled, my arm, completely shriveled. I had to give it to them, they built the place from the ground up and stood for nothing short of perfection. Their son and his wife worked there as well and also liked me (thankfully) so aside from the fact that employees could only drink the soda (juices and iced tea cost too much) and could only eat saltine crackers, it was actually a great first job. I learned a ton, not only about seafood but how a business should be run, and I still have a soft spot every time I drive by. Not to mention that to this day I've yet to taste better cream of crab soup (no I don't know the recipe- it's kept under lock and key) or cherry cobbler.
Then one summer I decided to do some odd jobs, working at my mom's office, and at my sister's day care center. The day care quickly took over office work, but it was early - I usually had to be there around 7am- and then would leave early in the afternoon. This generally gave me far too much time on my hands and not enough money so I began searching around for another job. In came Jakes Seafood in Rehoboth which would be my home for the following 3 summers. I loved working at Jakes. I was hired thinking I would be learning to serve, well, apparently they really needed me in take out and thus began the best job EVER. I got paid well, tips were decent, and the job was EASY. Granted it would get extremely extremely busy, but the people there when I started, B. and G., well, those 2 taught me everything I needed to know and more and we had the system down to a science. I made life long friends, and quickly endeared myself to the owners (another family run business, though FAR different than the first place I worked). The hours were great! I never had to come in before 11am, and could leave a lot sooner than any of the servers. Usually no later than 10/11pm. I'd head out to someones beach house, drink my face off, crash on someones couch, or at my boyfriends and best friends house and be on my way in the morning to do it all again. You could eat all the sides, salads, and rolls you could want. You could usually steal the seafood bisque when no one was looking, the servers loved you because you'd help out when they needed it without having to tell a manager, and you could catch up on summer reading during slow periods. As summer wound down, I asked right away if I could come back after school in the spring, and they of course said yes. I was back in May knowing this would be my only job and a dollar raise. Also a "take out manager" which really just meant that I had to train the new people. So much fun. The kitchen staff loved the takeout girls because they usually weren't screaming that they messed up an order. We also chatted with them as the take out counter was directly next to the kitchen. We were nice to the kitchen and in turn, were treated with respect (which was a big deal considering who worked in the kitchen) and our orders always came out correct and on time (well, most of the time). As summer plugged on, I got another raise, was given more responsibility and I decided I should probably start waiting tables in order to make more money. In retrospect I should have just stayed in take out, but by the end of the summer I was running food and was given a couple of lunch shifts. Nothing major, but I knew the next summer I had to wait tables. And come May of the following year, that is exactly what I did. I was a champ and within a month I was more than competent and given some great sections. I can't tell you how much money I made that summer, mainly because I spent most of it on booze, shopping, our beach house, and more booze. It was a great summer. I had to come in earlier, I got off later, I smelled worse, had way more responsibility and sometimes longed for the days of takeout, but ultimately, I was making more money, got free shots during tough shifts and I was valued way more. The managers and owners loved me, the kitchen staff didn't automatically hate me since I had long built a relationship with them, and got along with the staff, esp. the lifers who had seen me grow from a high school graduate into a college coed. I worked hard and played harder and I was so happy.
When I graduated college I decided the time had come where I didn't want to spend a summer constantly smelling like kitchen and getting yelled at by weird tourists. I reluctantly informed my manager that I wasn't going to be returning that summer and found myself with a cushiony office job in a real estate office managed by a former high school guidance counselor that knew me and my mom. I loved my new office which was a pretty little building on the Avenue that had huge floor to ceiling windows. I got a desk in one of the windows and was soon administrative assisting my way through the summer. The pay was great, I got to sit in air conditioning all day, and the hardest thing I had to do was get up and walk to the filing cabinet. I was doing a play at the time, met my boyfriend through that, and soon was simply emailing back and forth with him all day long, listening and chatting with my co-workers (an open office floor plan which I loved) and order chicken salads from SOB's. And I would occasionally walk down to Jakes for a crabcake and a visit to my former employers. I was always greeted so nicely and they always told me to come back often. I secretly missed them a little, but was happy not to be in the center of all that craziness and restaurant drama that can suck you in. I spent my money on nice dinners with my friend A. and went out to bars slightly less frequently. It was a good summer, albeit a lot tamer than ones past.
At the end of that summer I moved up the NYC and found myself not wanting to wait tables, wanting to audition and wondering what the hell I would do. I quickly found a wonderful real estate office and decided to get my license. I did really well at first, and closed my first deal in 3-4 days of working there. My senior partner was impressed and I was set to go. The office was beautiful, I worked in the heart of Chelsea, and everyone else there was young and some sort of artist be it musically, acting, or painting. I thought how perfect it was. Except when I couldn't close a deal to save my life after that. It may have been me, it may have been shitty clients, but all in all, I soon was running out of money and not really making any. I closed a deal here or there, but you really have to be self motivated and disciplined, which at the time, I was not. I loved the people there and made some dear dear friends, and treated that year essentially like college without the classes. I went out, I had fun, I met great people. Come summer I REALLY felt fine about the whole arrangement because it was summer, and time to kick back (you know from all my hard work in winter, ha.) and that I did. We'd take days off and head to Central Park. On hot days we'd hit the closest movie theatre. Occasionally I'd show an apartment. We'd smoke in the bathroom and on the fire escape. We drank. I became a myspace fiend. We talked. A lot. I learned a little French. I started a theatre company. I all around loved every second. I worked at Gap for approx. 3 weeks before it became too "stifling" for me.
And then in October decided to move to Philadelphia, get a real job, and see what would happen next. What I found was a whole lot of frustration on my part. I have a steady "good" job working in ticketing for the Kimmel Center. By all standards a great simple 9 to 5 job. Except it drives me crazy to sit in a cube (yes, cubicles, one thing I swore I never would work in) and stare at a computer all day long. This is not me, this is not who I am or what I was meant to do. No sir. I refuse to settle. Right now it's a means to an end. It's teaching me some discipline, and as my dad said, the hardest part of a job, "getting up and going every day." But I still refuse to settle. I'm still barely making rent and bills on time, and I'm doing something I definitely do not love. I'm in a show, which is wonderful. I live with my college roomate again, which is wonderful. And I've definitely explored Philly and eaten at some of the finest restaurants, and drank at some great bars. But this job is not what I thought it would be. I expected to be out schmoozing my clients and making the rounds, but here I sit, in front of my computer (a new one! Excitement of the week!), in my cube with gray walls, one dingy window I can't see letting in little to no light, and a desk full of papers that I really don't care about, I eat at my desk, I have emails from a cranky boss, and a headache from the fluorescent lights overhead. When I get home at 5:30pm all I want to do is sit on the couch and watch tv and relax. Summer has arrived and I find myself in a place where I least expected to be, in a job that sure doesn't feel like summer to me.
My first summer job was working at a seafood place. I worked the counter, and had to deal with a 77 year old senile woman who for no other reason than it amused her, set out to make everyone around her's life miserable. Her husband, on the other hand, adored me, for whatever reason- he didn't often like anyone, I think I won him over by my refusal to stop smiling when he or Miss A (as we all called the woman) ordered me to stick my hand in the sink where shrimp were thawing in luke warm water so that I might break them apart gently as the ice melted. This resulted in my left arm smelling of shrimp and turning blue and red due to the ice/spiky shrimp tales that would prick me. Also it was pickled, my arm, completely shriveled. I had to give it to them, they built the place from the ground up and stood for nothing short of perfection. Their son and his wife worked there as well and also liked me (thankfully) so aside from the fact that employees could only drink the soda (juices and iced tea cost too much) and could only eat saltine crackers, it was actually a great first job. I learned a ton, not only about seafood but how a business should be run, and I still have a soft spot every time I drive by. Not to mention that to this day I've yet to taste better cream of crab soup (no I don't know the recipe- it's kept under lock and key) or cherry cobbler.
Then one summer I decided to do some odd jobs, working at my mom's office, and at my sister's day care center. The day care quickly took over office work, but it was early - I usually had to be there around 7am- and then would leave early in the afternoon. This generally gave me far too much time on my hands and not enough money so I began searching around for another job. In came Jakes Seafood in Rehoboth which would be my home for the following 3 summers. I loved working at Jakes. I was hired thinking I would be learning to serve, well, apparently they really needed me in take out and thus began the best job EVER. I got paid well, tips were decent, and the job was EASY. Granted it would get extremely extremely busy, but the people there when I started, B. and G., well, those 2 taught me everything I needed to know and more and we had the system down to a science. I made life long friends, and quickly endeared myself to the owners (another family run business, though FAR different than the first place I worked). The hours were great! I never had to come in before 11am, and could leave a lot sooner than any of the servers. Usually no later than 10/11pm. I'd head out to someones beach house, drink my face off, crash on someones couch, or at my boyfriends and best friends house and be on my way in the morning to do it all again. You could eat all the sides, salads, and rolls you could want. You could usually steal the seafood bisque when no one was looking, the servers loved you because you'd help out when they needed it without having to tell a manager, and you could catch up on summer reading during slow periods. As summer wound down, I asked right away if I could come back after school in the spring, and they of course said yes. I was back in May knowing this would be my only job and a dollar raise. Also a "take out manager" which really just meant that I had to train the new people. So much fun. The kitchen staff loved the takeout girls because they usually weren't screaming that they messed up an order. We also chatted with them as the take out counter was directly next to the kitchen. We were nice to the kitchen and in turn, were treated with respect (which was a big deal considering who worked in the kitchen) and our orders always came out correct and on time (well, most of the time). As summer plugged on, I got another raise, was given more responsibility and I decided I should probably start waiting tables in order to make more money. In retrospect I should have just stayed in take out, but by the end of the summer I was running food and was given a couple of lunch shifts. Nothing major, but I knew the next summer I had to wait tables. And come May of the following year, that is exactly what I did. I was a champ and within a month I was more than competent and given some great sections. I can't tell you how much money I made that summer, mainly because I spent most of it on booze, shopping, our beach house, and more booze. It was a great summer. I had to come in earlier, I got off later, I smelled worse, had way more responsibility and sometimes longed for the days of takeout, but ultimately, I was making more money, got free shots during tough shifts and I was valued way more. The managers and owners loved me, the kitchen staff didn't automatically hate me since I had long built a relationship with them, and got along with the staff, esp. the lifers who had seen me grow from a high school graduate into a college coed. I worked hard and played harder and I was so happy.
When I graduated college I decided the time had come where I didn't want to spend a summer constantly smelling like kitchen and getting yelled at by weird tourists. I reluctantly informed my manager that I wasn't going to be returning that summer and found myself with a cushiony office job in a real estate office managed by a former high school guidance counselor that knew me and my mom. I loved my new office which was a pretty little building on the Avenue that had huge floor to ceiling windows. I got a desk in one of the windows and was soon administrative assisting my way through the summer. The pay was great, I got to sit in air conditioning all day, and the hardest thing I had to do was get up and walk to the filing cabinet. I was doing a play at the time, met my boyfriend through that, and soon was simply emailing back and forth with him all day long, listening and chatting with my co-workers (an open office floor plan which I loved) and order chicken salads from SOB's. And I would occasionally walk down to Jakes for a crabcake and a visit to my former employers. I was always greeted so nicely and they always told me to come back often. I secretly missed them a little, but was happy not to be in the center of all that craziness and restaurant drama that can suck you in. I spent my money on nice dinners with my friend A. and went out to bars slightly less frequently. It was a good summer, albeit a lot tamer than ones past.
At the end of that summer I moved up the NYC and found myself not wanting to wait tables, wanting to audition and wondering what the hell I would do. I quickly found a wonderful real estate office and decided to get my license. I did really well at first, and closed my first deal in 3-4 days of working there. My senior partner was impressed and I was set to go. The office was beautiful, I worked in the heart of Chelsea, and everyone else there was young and some sort of artist be it musically, acting, or painting. I thought how perfect it was. Except when I couldn't close a deal to save my life after that. It may have been me, it may have been shitty clients, but all in all, I soon was running out of money and not really making any. I closed a deal here or there, but you really have to be self motivated and disciplined, which at the time, I was not. I loved the people there and made some dear dear friends, and treated that year essentially like college without the classes. I went out, I had fun, I met great people. Come summer I REALLY felt fine about the whole arrangement because it was summer, and time to kick back (you know from all my hard work in winter, ha.) and that I did. We'd take days off and head to Central Park. On hot days we'd hit the closest movie theatre. Occasionally I'd show an apartment. We'd smoke in the bathroom and on the fire escape. We drank. I became a myspace fiend. We talked. A lot. I learned a little French. I started a theatre company. I all around loved every second. I worked at Gap for approx. 3 weeks before it became too "stifling" for me.
And then in October decided to move to Philadelphia, get a real job, and see what would happen next. What I found was a whole lot of frustration on my part. I have a steady "good" job working in ticketing for the Kimmel Center. By all standards a great simple 9 to 5 job. Except it drives me crazy to sit in a cube (yes, cubicles, one thing I swore I never would work in) and stare at a computer all day long. This is not me, this is not who I am or what I was meant to do. No sir. I refuse to settle. Right now it's a means to an end. It's teaching me some discipline, and as my dad said, the hardest part of a job, "getting up and going every day." But I still refuse to settle. I'm still barely making rent and bills on time, and I'm doing something I definitely do not love. I'm in a show, which is wonderful. I live with my college roomate again, which is wonderful. And I've definitely explored Philly and eaten at some of the finest restaurants, and drank at some great bars. But this job is not what I thought it would be. I expected to be out schmoozing my clients and making the rounds, but here I sit, in front of my computer (a new one! Excitement of the week!), in my cube with gray walls, one dingy window I can't see letting in little to no light, and a desk full of papers that I really don't care about, I eat at my desk, I have emails from a cranky boss, and a headache from the fluorescent lights overhead. When I get home at 5:30pm all I want to do is sit on the couch and watch tv and relax. Summer has arrived and I find myself in a place where I least expected to be, in a job that sure doesn't feel like summer to me.
Friday, June 22, 2007
Male Dolphins Can Carry Things With Their Penis
So last Gossip Factory (this is the theatre company/collective I am a part of - check us out) meeting we were all brainstorming and coming up with new ideas for our next version of "4f" our show we wrote and performed last fall. WELL, SOMEhow A. mentioned that she heard a story on NPR about a woman who built a house partially submerged in water because she loved Dolphins so much and wanted to be close to them. WELL, apparently she developed a diff. kind of relationship with said dolphin and loved them a little TOO much if you get what I'm saying. An inappropriate relationship some might venture to say, though not everyone apparently.
So I was just doing some research for us to try and find the story so we could adapt it into our new script somehow and THIS is what came up instead (thank you google) - WARNING: may not be safe for work- no photos- just, well, here-
- Essentially it's a "how to" of Dolphin Sex. Some highlights (of course I read it) are below:
You can attempt to lick and suck on the end of it while masturbating as well, but be warned, do not try to give full throat, and get the hell out of the way before he ejaculates! A male dolphin could snap your neck in an accidental thrust, and that would be the end of that relationship.
One thing to note. Whether you masturbate or mate a fin, male or female, always spend time with them afterwards. Cuddle them, rub them, talk to them and most importantly, and show them you love them. This is essential, as it helps to strengthen the bond between you. Like a way of saying that this wasn't just a one night fling. The dolphins appreciate it, and they will want your company more the next time you visit them.
we spent the next 5 or so minutes just lying together in the shallows, holding each other, enjoying our company and revelling in the fact that we had shared something special together, something very few people can claim to have done.
WARNING! In the considerations of safety, you should NEVER let a male dolphin attempt anal sex with you. The Bottle-nose dolphin member is around 12 inches, very muscular, and the thrusting and the force of ejaculation (A male can come as far as 14 feet) would cause serious
internal injuries, resulting in peritonitus and possible death. Unless you are the masochistic type, you will have a hard time explaining your predicament to the doctors in the emergency ward....
So I was just doing some research for us to try and find the story so we could adapt it into our new script somehow and THIS is what came up instead (thank you google) - WARNING: may not be safe for work- no photos- just, well, here-
- Essentially it's a "how to" of Dolphin Sex. Some highlights (of course I read it) are below:
You can attempt to lick and suck on the end of it while masturbating as well, but be warned, do not try to give full throat, and get the hell out of the way before he ejaculates! A male dolphin could snap your neck in an accidental thrust, and that would be the end of that relationship.
One thing to note. Whether you masturbate or mate a fin, male or female, always spend time with them afterwards. Cuddle them, rub them, talk to them and most importantly, and show them you love them. This is essential, as it helps to strengthen the bond between you. Like a way of saying that this wasn't just a one night fling. The dolphins appreciate it, and they will want your company more the next time you visit them.
we spent the next 5 or so minutes just lying together in the shallows, holding each other, enjoying our company and revelling in the fact that we had shared something special together, something very few people can claim to have done.
WARNING! In the considerations of safety, you should NEVER let a male dolphin attempt anal sex with you. The Bottle-nose dolphin member is around 12 inches, very muscular, and the thrusting and the force of ejaculation (A male can come as far as 14 feet) would cause serious
internal injuries, resulting in peritonitus and possible death. Unless you are the masochistic type, you will have a hard time explaining your predicament to the doctors in the emergency ward....
Seriously? Kids are kids
I was really surprised and kind of even shocked to read this story this morning in the news:
http://news.yahoo.com/s/ap/20070621/ap_on_fe_st/odd_backyard_noise
Ok look angry neighbors, kids are kids, calm down. I understand wanting to enjoy your peace and quiet, but if there are kids, and a pool, and it's summer, there is going to be noise! Screaming and yelling and laughing and all around noise. If you live in a neighborhood you've got to expect this sort of thing!! If you wanted total silence then you wouldn't have moved to a neighborhood in the first place! Crazy. It's one thing to ask the girls to keep it down, or to ask your neighbors if they wouldn't mind telling their girls to keep it a little quieter during certain hours or something. But to try and slap a lawsuit/civil complaint?! Jesus.
It just seems so ridiculously silly to me.
http://news.yahoo.com/s/ap/20070621/ap_on_fe_st/odd_backyard_noise
Ok look angry neighbors, kids are kids, calm down. I understand wanting to enjoy your peace and quiet, but if there are kids, and a pool, and it's summer, there is going to be noise! Screaming and yelling and laughing and all around noise. If you live in a neighborhood you've got to expect this sort of thing!! If you wanted total silence then you wouldn't have moved to a neighborhood in the first place! Crazy. It's one thing to ask the girls to keep it down, or to ask your neighbors if they wouldn't mind telling their girls to keep it a little quieter during certain hours or something. But to try and slap a lawsuit/civil complaint?! Jesus.
It just seems so ridiculously silly to me.
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