It was an eventful span of three days for me.
I hurt my neck. I woke up and I was in so much pain. I'm guessing it was a result of all my headbanging to Avril Lavigne, but no one knows for sure. Still, my mother's car was broken, so she wanted to hang out and who better to drive her around then her favorite live in child?
We went to this coffee shop downtown. It was very good and I even parallel parked on a busy street. I'm amazing. My neck was not feeling my usual exorcist mentality, but still I persevered and took that parking spot like the blonde bitch I am.
Three (four? six?) days later I ran my car battery down at work. Now I know how to jump a car, I have run my battery down many times before. I even had the assistance of Sacajawea. You know your best friends when someone willingly get's their extensions wet to help you jumpstart your car. It was thundering and dark outside, so we may have required the assistance of everyone's favorite country boy, but besides that we are strong independent individuals. Basically.
First off. My heel breaks on the way over. Parking is horrendous and we have to walk about a mile to get there. We have to walk back to my car to get another pair of shoes. The only ones I have is my ratty work shoes. Joyce says I looked grunge. That's a nice way of putting it.
You know Joyce and I went to a music festival together and that went okay. This however was intense with no real benefit. Although, I did get a lot of pamphlets from the Planned Parenthood booth. I know how to have safe oral sex, anal sex, vaginal sex. I got you covered.
Alternatively, I might move into a nice apartment in some major city and make quick excursions out into the public sphere once in a while instead. School's been a struggle. The most painful part is talking to people. Human contact has just not been going great.
On Sunday I was with the twins. The day before class starts. And, I was casually discussing the hate comment I received on my video “Tip Thy Waiter”. Both Joyce and Black have claimed it as my best. So this isn't actually related to my emotional breakdown at school, but I'm working there.
I ran into someone that I kind of sort of liked. I never talked about it on the blog. It was an the end of the school year kind of thing. I thought I was over it. Of course I knew I wasn't and here I am typing out this article emotionally unhinged.
My first day look was the same one I wore on my trip to St. Louis with the twins. It was summery and bright. For some reason one of my fellow homosexuals decided to step his A game up. He's always had nice hair, just not the way he styled it. He has nice clothes, there just not put together well. Yet, here this little bitch is in my Detective Fiction class looking more then decent. What the fuck.
I also refused to acknowledge Warner in public. I'm petty. I like being texted first. I like being acknowledged first and I don't apologize. He didn't say hi to me until Thursday.
I also went to the GSA meeting. This year I will be a proud member of the Gay Straight Alliance. Most importantly I will be active. I introduced myself as a Freshman Marketing Major. Multiple people had to tell me I was a sophmore. That was awkward. And, yes my favorite superhero is Green Lantern. Ryan Reynolds looked sexy as fuck in that movie.
BUT THESE LITTLE BITCHES STOLE OUR NAME.
I am not upset about this. Salty, perhaps. But, upset no. We lost terribly. They helped to not dilute our brand recognition. The questions were based on The Office. I know that John Krasinski is married to Emily Blunt that is the extent of my knowledge.
That was my week. Now I'm here typing, waiting to go see Joyce receive $10,000 for being an awesome student. I'm not kidding. That's the gist of it.
Until next time where hopefully my life involves more then school starting up.
Now at my school no one said anything about what I was wearing. This really sweet octogenarian even told me I looked like a model. Praise her. I will take my compliments where I can get them. Of course I locked myself out of my car. Again. This is the third time in the past month. Normally, I'm not that worried. I can just stay on campus until someone can get me a ride. But, that day I had plans. I had to leave. I shamelessly asked five people to help until my favorite English major was like I got you boo.
She loves James Joyce and honestly I judge for it. I appreciate The Portrait of an Artist as a Young Man as a literary achievement, but that doesn't mean I like him. So, Joyce helped me out and we bonded. Talked shit about people had a good time. And , then I got in my car to go.
This is a college campus and I am breaking dress code. Apparently, I can be fined for it. I am showing my midriff. Please calm yourself. You also aren't allowed to swear on their campus. What the fuck is that. And, they have a curfew. What kind of regressive nonsense is that. Their campus is beautiful, but let's be real it's not that beautiful.
Probably the most surprising thing was when we went to this Thai food restaurant. It was amazing. The twins are picky eaters. I did not anticipate them picking this place. We shared everything. We got sushi, crab wontons, some not quite amazing beef skewer things, and this hella fancy french fries with like goat cheese on them or something. It was amazing.
And, the waiters. They were all hot. Practically. They all wore all black and we got the second cutest waiter. At one point they all walked out together and it was a fashion show. They strutted. It was amazing. I was ready to whore myself out and the twins were cleavage bearing. But, I was most certainly the whore of the group.
The twins both had wedges on. Shorter then mine, but they also don't wear them every day like I do. They were like we need to find a place to sit down for a moment. During this process I casually ran into this really cute guy, who most certainly objectified me. It's like I appreciate that you enjoy my flat stomach. But, please calm yourself.
He actually stood behind us for part of the show and Miss Sara Bellum pointed him out to me. She certainly knows my taste in men.
Honestly, being surrounded by cute gay men is kind of my thing. There was so much aesthetic going on. There was this drink server. I think they said his name was Clive. He had on a tight pair of jeans and a crop top with “I Woke Up Like This” blazoned across it. He was even doing the Freddie Mercury mustache. I felt his look.
Of course they were obnoxious as fuck. That's fine. They had this female friend, who I thought was really pretty. The twins did not agree. At one point she threatened to throw her drink at this queen who was lip syncing to “Let It Go”. I honestly felt her. This girl's hair was immaculate. It was straight and blonde. There was not an extra ounce fat on her. Her dress was orange and electric. Her heels were high. I appreciated her.
The actual show itself was pretty amazing. There were four other queens with Pearl. They opened by doing a lip sync to “Lady Marmalade”. The one representing P!NK was on fire. Then, this queen named Princess started to dictate the show. She was funny. She had tattoos. She was amazing. Honestly, what she did is what I wish Pearl had done. At the end of the show I felt like I got to know Princess better then Pearl. All of Princess's lip sync's were on point. Her final one was a mash up of Lily Allen's “Fuck You”, Big Sean's “I Don't Fuck With You”, and Cee Lo Green's “Fuck You”. They all had the corresponding theme of fuck to prove how ladylike she was.
They were more disappointed then I was about not getting the picture. Knowing me I would have looked awkward as fuck and then I would have felt obligated to put it in this blog post. That just wouldn't have worked.
We did struggle to actually get back to their dorms. It doesn't matter that they've lived here for a year at this point. They had no idea how to get home. Do not rely on a GPS to the point where you can't function without it.
My drive home was great. It rained the whole way. But, I had turn up music on the whole time. That Rihanna. That Madonna. That Britney Spears and Lady Gaga. Shout out to them for aiding in my hearing loss. I got home and my parents asked me how the concert was and until that moment I had totally forgot that I told them I was seeing Walk The Moon instead of a drag queen at a gay bar.
My turn up playlist.
Merry Christmas Eve to the world. Hopefully you are opening your stockings, eating too many cookies, and soon have a mild cardiac arrest. I realize that today is not Friday and that Black Friday was last month. The thing is, I realize you all think I'm super interesting and I just have so much going on in my life. That is not true.
I am an exceedingly boring person in life and liberty. I was really hoping something exciting would come along that I could tell you instead of this, but it is kind of a funny story. So, I might as well tell you.
So, Black Friday was a very eventful day for me. I did not go shopping. No, hunty that is what Cyber Monday is for. You stay up until midnight and press order and you go back to sleep. That is my kind of shopping.
(Just in case you were wondering what I bought)
I was out with Boomer. I have not seen him in forever. I haven't seen him, since August. He did not come back over fall break, so this was the first time he was back in town, doing his thing. So, of course I was like we need to do something. I dragged him to go see The Maze Runner.
I finally got around to seeing it. Dylan O'Brien is my baby and he is in this movie. I honestly thought he was a side character, but no he was main lead. The movie was fantastic. I didn't know what it was about going into it, but it was great. Side note that Dylan O'Brien looked sexy as fuck in this movie. He's cute. That's why I like him, but in this movie he was lean and fit and just take my body kind of sexy. Honestly he's a great actor. I was surprised. I thought we would see Stiles 2.0, but no Dylan brought a whole new light to this character.
Needless to say I did not tell Boomer that the only reason I was seeing this movie was because Dylan O'Brien. It was as we were heading home that I hit someone, because I am just such a safe driver. Everyone tells me I'm a good driver. I am not.
I have had my license for two years and I have been in four wrecks. All minor, but still. I've come to realize that essentially I'm Lindsay Lohan. The funny thing about this wreck is someone said to me, do you really want to go out driving on Black Friday? I told them I would be fine. I was not.
I also could not find my current insurance. I was hyperventilating. Boomer looked at me. He was like breath. You are an idiot. You have your insurance. Of course I did. Mind you while we were waiting for the police, I had on the Pentatonix Christmas album, and we were smooth like jamming out to it while we waited.
The police were super nice. I felt bad that we inconvenienced them. Not just because I got a ticket. It was just like we really did not need them. Our bumpers were a little dinged up, but the cars were still driving just fine. This was a minor wreck. She said I was going twenty miles an hour, and I wanted to tell her to calm herself. Maybe it was fifteen. Maybe.
The officer also thought I was dating Boomer. I was like please stop. This is my best friend. No.
Then, he tells me that I need to change the color of my hair to something natural. I have been lying to you for a very long time. Since, this blog started. I am not blonde. My hair has been gray, blue, purple. You name it. I am a natural blonde, but I am only two parts of the “Blonde, Skinny, Queen of the Internet”.
When, I started my job I was a blonde, but for the past six months my hair has not been a natural color. So, I'm just confused by my general manager. Why all of a sudden is my hair color an issue. It hasn't been a problem for six months. You missed your chance to tell me to change it, six months ago. The man has also seen my hair on numerous occasions. I work quite a bit. I do run into him.
He even told me I should do my hair orange for Halloween, so I don't get why all of a sudden it needs to be a natural color. It is not in the employee handbook, because I read it.If he wants to fire me, why doesn't he needs to come up with a better reason. Because, this one is bullshit, because he literally never said it was a problem before this.
He also said he was going to fire me if I didn't change it. Fun fact. I don't know if he was just in a funk or what, but I am applying to different jobs. I do not like being harassed.
Needless to say I got off early that night. I pushed my way past my coworker to get off before her. I am not even sorry. Update to anyone who didn't already know. I am a bitch.
The Nagoya protocol. That's what part two of two is going to be about.
I'm lying to you. I was in the science building on campus, in one of the student lounges, with no good place to plug in my laptop, and I picked up one of the science journals, and there was a very long, comprehensive article on the Nagoya protocol. I never want to talk about it.
Hopefully, there will not be a third part to this two part drama that is my car. I do call him the grandfather, but lately he's been living up to that reputation, and I'm really not here for it.
I was on my way to school. It was Sunday, the day before school started. I was on my way to meeting on campus. I'm just driving along when I'm pushing the gas pedal, and it is not speeding the car up. If anything it is braking the car. I get into a turn lane, and only because God deemed it appropriate did I make it through the light before stalling on a side street right in front of this elementary school.
I do not have a cellphone. I am downtown, with a stalled car unable to call anyone. It is Sunday, all respectable places of business are closed, no one is at the school. It has to be a 100 degrees outside, and I am walking to find someone who will let me borrow their phone. Not to call my mother, but instead to call the person I was meeting at school. She would have to come get me. My mother and I were in a spitting match. It was not okay.
He acquiesces and I go to my meeting. I tell Thunder what happens and she insists that she'll help me. That makes sense. I don't know what I expected her to say. “Sorry, bitch, but I've got places to be. As in with my boyfriend.” Her boyfriend, shows up on campus, and collectively we go out to Auto Zone and buy some oil for the car. Why we thought this would fix the acceleration problem. I don't know, but we were convinced it was a possibility.
I leave the school. Using two main roads home, peeved when I'm stopped at the bottom of a hill and have to accelerate over the top of it. That was fun. I made it with no serious problems, other then it took me forever to cross an intersection.
I get home, tell my father what happened, he tells me it's either the fuel pump or the fuel filter and that I should use mother's car to get to school on Monday. My father is out of state as all of this is happening. I still very peeved with my mother refuse to ask her for it, and calm my nerves by turning up Havana Brown and taking side streets all the way to school.
The question of whether or not I made it on time is still not answered. I checked my school e-mail that morning, getting a new one from my Algebra teacher to bring my textbook to class, but my teacher that moved the class to an entirely different building could not be bothered. Because, I'm already late I don't mention to the history professor, that hey I'm in the wrong class. I decided I will just sit through it.
Thank, God some other poor confused student asked the important question and got us both to the right class. The best part of being so stressed out about driving to school, is that you can't really worry about what your first day of school is. The only thing that stands out to me is that my algebra teacher was too excited, too fast, and if I did not have a working knowledge of how to do Least Common Multiples, I would be failing that class so hard right now.
Oh, she's also decided that were having a “lab”. Woman, this is algebra. What do you mean by “lab”. This isn't biology and I will not be playing with any test tubes in algebra.
The drive home that day, I think was the most fun. This car braked in front of me, and when I tried to regain the speed, I ended up stalling, and I swung the grandfather into the nearest parking lot, which just so happened to be a porn store. Well, actually a toy store, because they specialized in other things. Dildos for everyone.
Once, home, I'm informed by my father that we need to get the fuel filter replaced at Valvoline. I barely made it home that day. I don't know how well he expected that to end. It ended okay. Valvoline doesn't change out fuel filters and they told us to go to Firestone. We go there, we leave the car, and my mother and I go grocery shopping. Although, I did force her to stop at McDonald's first for that $1 large sweet tea. Let me tell you everything. My day was okay.
Then. Father decides to call. I tell him we went to Firestone. He flips his shit. It costs too much money, I tell him I will pay for it. That makes it worse. We have to go back out to bring the car back home. He decided the fuel filter wasn't the problem. My mother and I go back out. I start the car, and we are almost home. I just have to make it through this one light, and I can coast down to our neighborhood.
That was not meant to be. The car stalls in the middle of the intersection. I keep saying that for dramatic effect, but other then the other people in the left hand turn lane, I wasn't really blocking anything. I was in the intersection, but it wasn't stopping through traffic.
The stoplight goes through it's cycle. I have the car turned off the whole time, flashers on, reading my Architectural Digest, just waiting for when the car will make it through the light. It turns green again. I start the car up. I press the gas and it lets me through the light.
Now that my father has heard about all this stalling he was worried enough to hire a mechanic to come out and replace the fuel pump. To the great shock of everyone the mechanic got in a car wreck that day and had to get fifteen stitches in his left arm.I don't know what else could happen. I hope nothing until next year.
That's what Thunder told me. I've inherited her curse as an outgoing senior. The First Semester Car Problem Curse.
Wednesday was a long, not very, but somewhat eventful day for me. Not this Wednesday, but a Wednesday two, three weeks ago. The Wednesday before school started.
I was very confused. I had been for the better part of the summer. After I turned eighteen, my parents told me that I was an adult and that I could handle getting my student loans all by myself. Those were two terrible months, before they finally realized I had no idea what I was doing, and decided to help me. My father was not pleased that he had to cosign my loan. Shock of all shocks that a part time minimum wage worker couldn't secure a loan by themselves
Battered and wounded I drive down to my college. I talk to one of the financial assistance counselors, letting her know what is happening. She says to me “What can I help you with?” and I say to her “I'm just very confused.”
In maybe ten minutes we are done. One of my federal scholarships just hadn't gone through, because of a little paperwork. I fixed that. I go over to the business office to actually pay for it and they ask for my ID.
I don't have it. I drove all this way and I didn't bring my license. So, I try starting the car. I'd been bumping and grinding to Calvin Harris the whole way there. And, it won't start.
This is not really that surprising. I've run my car battery down, ten times this year. Or at least that's what I've been saying. Now that I think about it, I believe it's closer to six, but whatever. And, that Sunday before I'd run the battery down twice in one day.
My father jump started my car the second time and he thought it was fine. What my father doesn't know is that I run the battery down all the time, and that I just don't tell him. We have lthis portable jump starter that you plug into a wall and you just walk away for a half hour and let it charge the battery. That way he never has to know.
So, I am not surprised that the car will not start. I go back to the business office, I ask if I can borrow a phone. They tell me to go to campus security. They tell me to go to the computer lab, that's right along this shady ass corridor that scares the hell out of me. I get to the phone, and they fail to mention to me that you have to press 9 in order to make outside calls.
Earlier I told you that I have a flip phone. I don't carry this flip phone. I don't know its number. I use a home phone. Yes. That's right a home phone. Which we recently got caller ID on, so that's exciting. We are now keeping up with the Smith's from the 90's. First, I call the home phone. My mother does not pick up. She doesn't know how to check for caller ID, so I know she's not avoiding me. I then call my father's cellphone, and he doesn't pick up. RUDE. This is your child calling you in dire distress.
I then call my next door neighbor and tell her what happened. She tells me to stand by the phone, and once she's reached them, they will call me. I stand at the ready and after five minutes, my father calls me, and asks me where I am.
I tell him where I'm parked and I wait. I did however make considerable progress in The Beautiful Things That Heaven Bears by Dinaw Mengestu. I've had to read for school for four weeks now and I've been putting it off by reading Jackie Collins instead. I was two pages from finishing when my father pulls up.
Of course I parked in the worst possible spot. I was cornered by this cement sidewalk and a red Impala. Every other car surrounding me had moved, but not the red Impala. What a bitch.
It had been really slow all that week, so my manager sent two people home earlier then he had to. I agreed with his assessment, but we got surprisingly busy. Nothing we couldn't handle, but the store wasn't clean.
So, in walks my General Manger and I thought he was about to go off because of how dirty it is, but he doesn't. He walks to the back and does inventory. Or whatever it is he does back there. I think to myself, he must be in a pretty good mood.
It's a few minutes after this that I hear him scream, “What is all this shit?” and him swiping everything off the break table off onto the floor. He might have flipped the table, I don't know, I only heard it.
The break table was a mess, but I don't know where that really matters. I don't know where he would ever think that's an acceptable way for a man in his fifties to act that way over a dirty break table. I just don't understand where he thinks throwing one of his employees books onto the ground is a good idea. I am a minimum wage worker. I don't have twenty dollars to spend on buying new books.
Because, yes he threw my books onto the ground. We have tile in the back and they were mopping it. He never did pick them up for me. One of my co workers did and there's this layer of grime on both of them.
They told me I handled myself very well, but I didn't go back there. If I had it would have gone down. He not only disrespected me, but the thoughts and ideas of Dinaw Mengestu. His book was deeply personal and no matter how I feel about a work of fiction, I am not about to degrade one of his books. Even, if his book wasn't personal. How dare you, that author put time and effort into this work, they put a part of themselves in it.
How dare you call a magazine and all it's writers “shit”. Margaret Russell as a respected Editor of a premiere American magazine, does not deserve that and neither do any of her writers. Who are you to treat their hard work like that sir.
He never did apologize to me or any of the staff for what he did. But, even if he had, I wouldn't have accepted it. That act of aggression was uncalled for. To apologize to me, he would have had to have written to Dinaw Mengestu and Margaret Russell and apologized to them
Melodrama puncutated with exclamation points.