15 April 2008

my keyboard smells like donuts

i'm still in training. and as was so sweetly pointed out to me, i'm always in some sort of training. i know. i have the best intentions when acception a job (which we are not pronouncing "hob" today, by the way) but i always end up getting bored and quitting or getting fired for some asinine reason that i can generally explain away to everyone except my boss. but whatever. the point is that i'm always, always in training and rarely actually doing a job.

i get this. i'm okay with it. i'm good at a lot of things and really interested in none of them, truth be told. i like to think it's an affliction of the gifted but i know that it's probably more of an attitude problem than anything else. whatever. you're not the boss of me!

so i'm sitting in training for this job (not "hob") that i've taken with this giant conglomerate corporation, listening to my trainer drone on and on and on. this is boring shit folks. because i now work in the financial services industry and this is funny for two reasons.

one - i am a fiscal retard. no, seriously. i'm a complusive spender (self diagnosed) - if i have 10$, i'm going to spend 20$. and if i have a credit card, i'm going to charge as much as i can. i know it's wrong but i can't help it. no seriously, i can't stop myself. i like the smell of retail. i like the smell of new things. i know i don't need them, but i like the idea of having new things - like six matching pairs of shoes or three new pairs of matching jeans. and i'm not a walmart shopper. oh hell no. we're talking top end shit. i don't know when i got so expensive, but it happened. i am cultivated. which is actually kind of funny, too, because i'm all jeans and t-shirts and tattoos and ponytails and 1000$ purses and 50$ underpants. wtf is that all about? there's got to be a therapy for that...

not that i still have 1000$ purses or 50$ underpants. i sold them on ebay ages ago. yeah, you can sell used underpants on ebay. somedays, it is just like a garage sale. except you don't call them used, you say words like "delicate" and "gently" but us hardcore ebay shoppers know the truth: those are somebody elses dirty grundies you are snapping up there, biznatches and that is wrong. now don't yell at me, because it's all about supply and demand, and i am just satisfying the demand of the general public - i can't help it if that demand is for a supply of pre-owned underwear. i can't help it if the general public has a fetish for pre-worn underpants. i'm just the messenger here. i don't write the news, i just report it. my god, i sound like a criminal.

what in the hell was i talking about? oh. right.

two: i haven't balanced my checkbook in probably four years. i'm not kidding here. i wouldn't even know where to start. i mean, i know how - in fact, i used to also do this compulsively. (i used to be compulsive about a lot of things: clean countertops, laundry, floors, dust, paying bills, blah, blah, blah...) but now i've become one of those people that reads atm receipts and takes them as gospel, in spite of what my mom and my high school business teacher have repeatedly told me (and that is DON'T do that, it's never right and you'll pay out the ass in overdraft fees. and they're right. i could have a lot of dollars if i had all those overdraft fees back but that's a whole different story.)

where in the fuck was i going with this?

right. training. so i'm sitting in training, trying really hard not to fall asleep, which has been nearly impossible the last couple days. (i don't know why, but i can't get out of bed in the morning.) and my trainer is going over and over all these little industry acronyms and abbreviations and suddenly i hear it: RFD. and i'm instantly transported to 10th grade history class and mr. bailey, who i am still convinced smoked a bowl with our school's biggest potheads on lunch every single day. evidence? dude had mad amounts of visine in his desk drawer for the crazy red eyes he had every afternoon (and yes, sadly, i was in his desk drawer for one reason or another, i don't remember the specifics, but i was coined a "bad kid" back in the dizzay), he had oddly close relationships with some suspect students, and he had an interesting affinity for original trident gum. (not exactly evidence pointing to a pothead, but still pretty freaking weird. original? who in the world chews original? that shit was nasty.) anyway. i'm off track.

i hear RFD. i'm thinking back to 10th grade, when life was easier (at least in comparison to life now, because i was all about the drama and creating it back then). i'm thinking mr. bailey. sitting in that god awful classroom on the second floor of the old high school building in front of patrick mc farland, and being tested on franklin d. roosevelt's new deal. remember the new deal? i'm not going to cover all of it, because frankly (LOL! no pun intended!) history's not my bag, but if you want to read up, go here.

god, this is taking forever. it's almost as painful as traning class. i'm putting myself to sleep here.

anyway. 10th grade history. FDR. the new deal. part of the new deal was RFD. and i'm being tested on this. history wasn't my bag back then either, but i suffered through it. not so well on this particular exam though. i'm asked to define certain acronyms, parts of the new deal. easy right? not for this moron on that day...

"RFD: really fast dog"

yeah, no. that jackass of a teacher of mine read that shit in front of the class to make an example of me and apparently what not to do. however, i'll never forget that rural free delivery was part of FDR's new deal, even if dogs, no matter how really fast or not, were not involved.

this, folks, is how i'm getting through training. because if i don't keep myself entertained with stories and anecdotes and poems and songs and doodles and illegal text messages and pictures and multiple bathroom trips and water trips and counting the minutes until break and lunch and break and time to go home, i will seriously keel over and die of boredom.

that's how bad it is. all for a job (not "hob") that will pay the bills (because i do have to pay the bills, it's not cool to not pay the bills, i've decided) and keep the electricity on (because i've decided i do like electricity, it's kind of handy).

there are some upsides. if i decide to rejoin chubby kids (did i mention i'm a chubby kids dropout? i know, right? i suck.), they'll pay for some of it. and the benefits are pretty good. and i can wear jeans to work, which i totally dig. it's only 10 minutes away and parking is free, which is rockin. plus, they have an ice machine that's like the ice machine at quik trip - it spits out neat-o little teeny-weeny ice nuggets as opposed to big honkin' ice cubes, and that's the cat's pajamas. i dig little ice cubes because they don't hurt my teeth and you can spit them at the cubicle across the hall with little to no effort. and i do like things that require little to no effort.

but as far as other upsides, i haven't found any yet. i got company email today but was strongly advised not to ever use it so as not to gain any compliance violations so i won't be fired. wtf? give me a toy, then take it away...

it's really nice but it's tornado windy outside. my hair doesn't approve of this weather but no one asked my permission. i'm dealing but i'm not thrilled.

i can't remember to update my nascar picks but somehow i'm still number one.

i. am. number one.

libbeth had the baby. isla grace. she's beautiful. i love her. (and i don't even know her, lol!) i'm trying really hard not to be jealous.

speaking of that (not libbeth, but babies in general), being with the bee has like reopened a whole new grieving period for me. that sort of sucks. it's like all these emotions that i've already had - that i was supposed to be having with him except he wasn't around when i needed him - are coming back and not in any sort of modest manner. i'm trying really hard not to resent him or be angry but that's a hard feeling to shelve, you know? sometimes i wonder if i'll be able to do that long term... but things in our little world are going well. we're getting along well. any spats that we've had we've talked through - logically and calmly and like adults, if you can believe it.

chinese for dinner tonight. we're getting to know the delivery guy pretty well. we may even have to give him a christmas card except now that i write that, i'm not sure that chinese people celebrate christmas and giving him a christmas card might be really awkward and i don't want him to spit in my food or think i'm a big dumb dummy for not knowing what he celebrates. i don't know. maybe i'll get him a target giftcard or something for being so timely and awesome. or maybe i won't do anything and we'll just continue to have this weird silent relationship: me, the food orderer and him, the food deliverer. that's probably how it'll go. i'm down with that. i don't want him to think we're going to invite him in for a three-way or something bizarro like that.

i cleaned out the fishtank, which hadn't been cleaned for like a decade or some shit like that and now i think that fluffy is sick. doesn't that just figure? but the tank looks awesome. it's never been so clean.

okay. so i'm going to go home now. i'm surrounded by 5th graders that are pretending to be 15 years old on myspace. somebody call dateline. i smell a setup.

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