Damn You Chinch! (Shakes fist at ceiling)

Okay, so it is now 5:30AM! and I am writing a post on Sad. Sigh. This is after 4 hours of trying to sleep with a chinchilla going spastic at the other end of the room. I finally calmed him down and moved him OUT of the bedroom, (like the concept had never struck me before), but now I can’t sleep. The SUN is actually coming up outside. It’s maddening. I’ve already e-mailed my boss and my team telling them that I’m coming in at 1:00, because seriously… nobody needs a grumpy zombie with a chinch vendetta. Somehow, I can’t shake the feeling that this is my boyfriend’s fault. If he wasn’t in fucking Africa digging wells for starving children, and teaching them to love God, he could be here taking care of the chinch. What a selfish fucking bastard!

Why People in Britain Always Talk About the Weather

I’m blogging again about the weather.  I know!  I know!  It’s cliche!  I move to the UK and it’s all I can think to talk about anymore, aside from the dissertation that should have been started already. 

Anyway, I have a second date tonight with a boy I like a lot.  We used to work together at the deli before he got fired and I quit, and then through the wonders of the internets (Facebook) I got in contact with him and we went for drinks.  This is only incidental to my story but I just wanted to brag that I’m not SO sad that no one wants to date me.  Haha!  I’ve got a date!  And not with a drug dealer this time! (That’s a story for another time).

So, being a girl, I started obsessing over what to wear.  It’s not really a date so much as I’ve invited him along to watch me and my flatmates get completely sloshed for the end of the semester.  I told him we’re entertainment and besides, they’ve both invited boys.  I figured, since it’s May, I should be able to wear my pretty pretty sun dress and sandals.

Think again, says Mr. Weather.

May 19th and it has barely broken 15C (about 60F).  I turned on my computer and the little widgit that tells me what the weather’s going to be like had rain coming out of the sun.  Rain does not come out of the sun, I thought, and put my dress on anyway.

Except then it did.

No lie.  I was minding my own business, putting my makeup on in my room when I look outside.  The sun is still shining furiously and it is chucking down rain.  Like, absolutely pissing.  It was the most bizarre thing I’ve ever seen.

And this is why there is the cultural phenomenon of British people liking to talk about the weather.  Because it’s fucking messed up!

Crying at parties is almost always a bad thing

This is the second party in what I believe is a month span that I cried during at some point. (refer to my first post- “never make out with guys who deliver furniture at a party no matter how hot they are” i was crying after my stuff was stolen.)

So, it was my co-workers going away party which started out quiet. Then my friends and I arrived with cheap bottles of tequila and huge bottles of beer. I don’t know what happened, but next thing I know I am super smashed and crying with my friend who I found out earlier that day was fired and is being sent back to the States. I was, and still am, very upset about it. But we were full on bawling, then all of a sudden it changed into me spouting out ALL my problems, that I’m a bad person, yada yada yada and still crying. I would like to blame it on the stress I’ve been under at work and the alcohol- but I guess you could also call me a nutjob. I used a good portion of that party as my own therapy session. Yes, please invite me to your next party.

After that everything is a blur- I can’t remember the last time I blacked out and last night I did. This morning I woke up wondering how the hell I got into my bed, and looked over next to me and my friend’s sandals were there and a trash can. Also, a mysterious liter of coke was on my table. And both my hips are achey and bruised.

Of course my friends filled me in on what happened last night, most of it embarassing (ie: taking off my clothes inside the cab) At least I found out that the reason why I got so drunk was because during our crying session another friend was feeding us tequila shots (which I dont remember taking).

For my next party no matter how drunk I am I promise to try to keep one thing in mind- crying at parties is almost always a bad thing, so i should try to stop myself from doing it.

Professional doofus

Somehow, I ended up with the task of screening potential interview candidates for our department over the phone and scheduling interviews with them. I don’t know how this happened since I have no experience in that line of work whatsoever and it seems to me that there could be some very heavy legal ramifications if I slip up (I’m constantly pestering the people in the recruiting/HR department with questions in order to ensure that I don’t say or do something that will give someone cause to sue us.), but there it is.

Anyway, I don’t think I do such a great job on this task in terms of seeming professional — what with the total lack of experience and all. I stammer a bit and say, “Um” quite a bit, but I think in general I do an OK job.

Today, however, I hit an all-time low. I called a candidate to schedule an interview with her, and as I was waiting for her to pick up, I was struck by sudden bout of hiccups. I was about to hang up when she answered the phone. For a brief, panicked moment, I thought of hanging up, but I had called her cell phone, which meant she probably had caller ID. I debated whether it would be more unprofessional to hang up on a caller or to try to talk to someone while hiccuping, but decided to try to soldier through.

I made the wrong choice. Thank goodness it was a rather brief conversation. I had to apologize profusely for my hiccuping, and it was all in all, quite an embarassing phone call. My hiccups were bad and my attempts to control them only made them come out as high-pitched squeaking noises. Next time, I’m hanging up and making up an excuse if the person happens to call back. I really can’t think of a more inopportune time for hiccups to strike. And, of course, as soon as I got off the phone with her, they stopped.

Oh and she’s coming in tomorrow for a face-to-face interview.

Itches and bitches

I’m overworked and underliving.

After like 10 years of not going digital, and about two years of having a somewhat broken film camera, I finally caved by ordering a digital camera – and missed signing for it because I was at work until 8:45pm. My friends are coming this weekend and I want to have digital memories of Birthday Bonanza 2006 (Oh god. We’re so old! And so not bonanza types). But chances are I won’t get the camera until Monday unless I drive to downtown LA on a Friday before 7pm. Which would mean I’d have to leave work at about 3pm and battle traffic for about 4 hours only to not have change for the meter but risk it anyway and go stand in line for another hour only to come out and find my car’s been towed. All this because I was too cheap to pay for expedited shipping.

On another note, I went to dinner at Kay n Daves knowing they serve delicious margaritas – but was disappointed by my marinara sauced enchiladas. Afterwards, I went to play with cute dogs, made progress with the shitzu, who finally let me hold him without growling – and now I have hives.