A Late Night Interview and Tequila Shots

As that title obviously hints, I am obviously making GREAT life decisions right now.

Let’s just say… Friday got unexpectedly interesting.

Remember that remark at the end of my last post about a possible position as a delivery driver? Well they called me back Friday night asking for an interview. I told them I would love to interview as soon as possible.

The way I see it, there is a limited amount of time left before I go back to school, I should probably figure out this whole job situation before I throw grad school into the mix.

They said, how does eight tonight sound?

Uuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh……………

I threw on my dressiest pair of jeans with a cute sweater, made myself a grilled cheese sandwich, and headed off into the night.

I was literally walking up to the warehouse for my interview when I get a text.

“Do you want to party?”

No, a prostitute wasn’t texting me. It was my good friends, and favorite dancing partners, Sabrina and Alyssa.

It had been a while since we had gone out drinking together, and lord knows I had been dying to go out dancing for a while now, so I texted back, “Sure, let me finish this interview first.”

Luckily the interview consisted solely of, “Do you still want this job?” No, I showed up to this freezing cold warehouse, because I’m not interested in the position. “Do you have valid insurance and registration?” Duh. “Any questions?” Yeah, how are y’all still in business?

No questions about my driving record. No questions about previous work experience. #1 most bizarre interview of my life.

After that I watched my soon-to-be manager pack orders for about twenty minutes while I waited for her to scan my license, insurance, and registration. Must say, I’m glad that I can just wait in my car between orders. That warehouse makes hoarders look organized.

As soon as I could slip out of there, I headed over to meet up with Alyssa and Sabrina. After leisurely drinking cocktails at two different bars, we headed over to Ruby’s Lounge for some dancing.

I already had a very good buzz going when we arrived, but the girls talked me into both a tequila and a vodka shot, before we hit the dance floor. Let’s just say I wasn’t too self conscious about my dance moves after that hardy helping of liquid courage.

I danced the freaking night away, and had a ton of fun doing so. I could have gone without the massive hangover the next morning, but it was worth it to have a fun night out with friends. With how stressful this sudden job transition has been, it was nice to spend a night not thinking about the future, and just living in the now.

 

Photo Credit: Getty Images

The Perils of Temp Work

After about five months of temp work, I can definitively say: it sucks.

From the get go I was nervous about working with a staffing agency. Something about people other than your employer profiting off of your labor… makes me uneasy to say the least.

But, after two months of being miserable canvassing, I was desperate to find any job that would take me, and get the heck out of there.

If I can say one good thing about my staffing agency experience, it’s that they found me a decently paying job, and they found it quickly.

After that, it was a bit of a shitshow.

First of all, they misinform me constantly.

For example, oh… I don’t know… THEY GAVE ME THE WRONG ADDRESS FOR MY INTERVIEW. (Yes, I am still a bit salty about this. I know I’m subtle about it and all.)

Also, they misinformed me about the scheduling flexibility of the position, procedures for how to call in sick, procedures for how to take scheduled time off, and mislead me about how much they are skimming off the top of my wage.

As if that isn’t already enough, their most disgusting offense is that they lied to me about the length of my temp period. Before I accepted the job, the staffing agency told me I was going to be a temp employee for four to five weeks before being hired on full-time at full wage.

Here I am at month five… Still waiting…

My boss at Clearesult told me about two months in that they couldn’t hire on any full-time staff until January. Of course I wasn’t thrilled with the news, but I understood that they didn’t have much flexibility in their staffing budget until the new fiscal year.

Now, I have been informed that they cannot even hire me on in January. They are pushing the date back until February.

I’m not so sure I want to stick around to find out if they’ll actually stick to the deadline this time.

This is a good job, and I’m glad that I’ve worked here for the past five months, but I work way too goddamn hard for the temp wage I’m currently receiving.

So here I am, scrolling job sites, and praying for the best.

How resume building does the career title delivery driver sound?

 

 

Hairy Questions and a Little Aftershave for Me

Last weekend I returned to that salon I blogged about back in October. I loved it so much, and I could not wait to go back to try it out again, but this time I brought a friend…

Actually, a little more than a friend. I brought along my fiance, Jake. For years he has been putting up with chain, walk-in hair shacks varying degree of quality from adequate to your hair looks worse than before you got a cut. Certainly nothing spectacular came from these low-budget quickie cuts.

But hallelujah, praise all the goddesses, Jake agreed to come with me to get a decent haircut.

Little did I know that getting an actual quality men’s haircut is a bit more difficult than expected.

First of all, I was trying to book our appointments online. I booked my usual short hair cut, but was failing to grasp what I should book for Jake. Should he get a barber cut or a short cut? What the fuck is the difference?

Well, after a cursory google search, it seems that the difference is that a barber cut uses more buzzer while a short cut uses more scissors. I wasn’t super sure which was best, but I figured I may as well just book a short cut, because neither one of us wanted to see him walk out of there with a buzzcut.

I guessed right. A short cut was exactly what Jake wanted and needed. What kind of short cut? That’s a different story. Usually Jake describes the way he wants his hair cut in length. X inches on top and Y inches on the sides and back. Usually even these straightforward instructions are too complicated for the average cheapie, walk-in place.

However, after the usual length spiel, Jake’s stylist, Jay, had some follow up questions. Do you want a crew cut? Fade? Relax man! What? you want a box cut? Whatcha want?

Jake looked over at me in absolute terror. He didn’t know what the hell he wanted. No one had ever asked before.

“Surprise us!” was the only solution I could provide.

Even without much to go off of, Jay gave Jake got the best haircut of this life. He looks gorgeous. (Or more gorgeous than usual anyway.) I have no idea how to describe his haircut in technical terms, but I can say that it’s sexy as all get out.

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I was lucky enough to have my own traditionally male experience at the salon. After my haircut, my stylish Aislinn surprised me with a hot towel, a shave, and even a little aftershave.

I had asked Aislinn to give me a nape design that I had seen online. After using the buzzers to trim the outline, she cleaned it up with a little shaving cream and a razor.

It was fabulous. I loved every second of it. I loved the warm, steamy towel. I loved the creamy, foamy shaving cream on the back of my neck, and I ADORED the surprise splash of aftershave. I smelled fantastic the rest of the day.

I was half tempted to ask her what brand it was, so I could go get some to use everyday.

Also, my nape design turned out gorgeous. My only complaint is that it’s on the back of my head, so it’s hard for me to admire it in all its glory.

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Again, I am thrilled with our experience with this salon. We both came out looking hotter than hell and feeling great. Isn’t that how all haircuts should make you feel?

Needless to say, Jake is never going back to getting a cheap, quickie cut ever again.

 

Holidays and other such Obligations

Sorry the blog posting has been kinds of spotty y’all.

As I’m sure just about everyone around right now can relate, things are hectic as hell right now.

Of course the holiday season is, sing it with me now, THE MOOOOOOOOOOst STRE-E-EssfuL TimeOfTheYear. Everybody is traveling, visiting family, and buying a financially crippling number of presents for their loved ones. It’s enough to make anyone want to pull their hair out.

Personally, I was lucky enough to visit my own personal hell for Thanksgiving. Jake and I ventured down into the backwards land of Southern Illinois to visit his parents.

I’m afraid when people here me say Illinois, they think the white North of Chicago. WRONG. We drove halfway across the country, down past St. Louis, almost to Tennessee. Down to the bible belt of these United States of America.

Jake and I played this game when we were down there. We tried to see who could spot the most churches as we drove around the area. Problem was, the game was a little too easy. It was like playing where Waldo with 80% of the people in the picture being Waldo. In that part of the country, you can’t throw a rock without hitting a bible thumper.

It was nice to see the in-laws again. They came up to Wisconsin in October for Jake’s birthday, but I hadn’t visited them in their natural habitat for two years now.

But if you’re anything like me, spending three days obligated to interact with family sounds torturous. Not that I don’t love them dearly, but being trapped in the same house with them for longer than a day is too much.

I need my space. I need time to let go. I need to sit in front of the TV, in just my underwear and a teeshirt, sipping wine after a long day of being sociable. When you are staying overnight with family, you don’t exactly get this respite.

By the time day three came around I was going bonkers. And after three days of wearing my public face, it was so nice to come home and finally relax. Jake and I also missed Charlie terribly, which is why he gets to the featured photo spot yet again.

It’s great to be home and getting back into familiar routines. Although I could do without the going back to work part.

 

 

 

 

Embossing Like a Boss

Our first weekend living in our new apartment, Jake and I decided to do a little impromptu gift exchange.

After settling in, I wanted to give Jake his Christmas present a little early, because it involved a piece of furniture. There was no way I was loading up my bookcase with all my books just to have to move them all again in a month to make room for his new gift.

However, Jake has two super powers. One is knowing exactly when a timer is going to go off. Honestly, I don’t know why he even sets timers anymore. I honestly think its just so he can show off the fact that he will always pop up three seconds before the timer goes off. His second super power is to guess what his gift is. No matter how creative I get, he always guesses what I picked out.

This time was no different. This kid is impossible to surprise.

As soon as I mentioned that his gift involved a piece of furniture, Jake asked if it was a record player.

Of course he was right, but at least he didn’t guess part two of his present. In addition to this lovely, vintage-style record player, I also gave Jake a small shelf to hold all his records.

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It looks great in the apartment and its so much fun to listen to all of Jake’s records again. He hasn’t had a record player since high school, so his record have just been collecting dust. He was ecstatic (or whatever Jake’s form of ecstatic is) to enjoy his records once again.

Jake returned the early Christmas exchange, by giving me part one of my Christmas gift.

He surprised me with an item that I’ve always wanted, but never allowed myself to be frivolous enough to buy.

He gave my a book embosser. It’s the bookish present of my dreams.

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Rick wishes you peace among worlds in the background.

I spent the whole afternoon stamping all my books to proudly say they are a member of Erica Hainz’s library. It’s super nerdy and I love it. It’s something that I’ve always secretly wanted, and I’m thrilled to finally have it.

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Can you tell I’m in love?

My personal library consists mostly of cheap, second hand books and public library rejects. It’s nice to make my library of misfits feel more like the unified literary collection that they are.

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Sorry this isn’t the best example of a stamp, I’m blogging from Southern Illinois right now and I only have one book with me.

I adore every novel in my possession so much. It’s gratifying to see them bear my name.

This gift was also super special, because it shows Jake’s support of my choice to earn my Master’s in English Studies. His support means the world to me, especially when my family has been less than receptive on the subject.

Our spontaneous Christmas exchange was magical. We both gave each other meaningful gifts that supported our individual interests.

Jake laughed a little when I got so worked up over a $25 gift, but the monetary value doesn’t matter. The fact that he cared enough to know exactly what I want without me having to say a word, makes the gift priceless.

 

Guess who’s going back to school?

After four months of playing phone tag with my enrollment advisor and resubmitting documents that I had been reassured, several times, had already been received, I have finally been admitted to grad school. You read that right. You are currently reading words written by a student admitted to Arizona State University’s Master’s of English Studies Program.

Feels pretty good to see that sentence in text.

Honestly, I didn’t know how this process was going to end. My enrollment advisor acted like I was silly to be worried given my all but perfect undergrad GPA, but it seemed like everything that could go wrong did go wrong on my application. I had to have my deadline extended, twice. 

So thank all the lords that the suspense is over.

One can only check their email so many times in a given day.

I’ve already enrolled in my two classes for the Spring semester. Session A I am taking Approaches to Research. Sounds like balls to the walls action, right? Session B I will be taking my first of many literature courses, Cross-Cultural Studies: Spies and Detection. Not really sure what to expect from that second one, especially since for the life of me I can’t find a course description, but obviously it can’t compete with the non stop thrill ride that is Approaches to Research.

It feels so good to be taking the first concrete steps towards my future, creative career.

My bureaucratic job is currently draining the life force from me, so at least now I can daydream about a future where I don’t have to give a flying fuck about SEER ratings or AFUE percentages.

I start classes January 8th. Wish me luck!

Move in

Sorry I disappeared there for a while there. Things got a little hectic around here about two weeks ago. That would be right around the time when Jake and I moved.

Within the span of 12 hours, Jake and I moved all our worldly possessions and cleaned our old apartment within an inch of its life. Our landlords expected us to make it appear as if humans have never lived there before if we want to see any of our deposit back.

In our move out instructions, they even told us not to bother cleaning the stove drip pans. If we wanted to save our deposit from being docked, we had to buy new ones to replace the ones we had used.

Also, there is a clause in our move out instructions where they explain that even if there are no visible pet stains on the carpet, we could still lose part of our deposit if any spots show up under the black light. That’s right, these bitches are going to be scanning our old apartment with a black light looking for trace amounts of pet juices. Joyous.

Needless to say, the cleaning on move out day got a bit intense. (Because there is no fucking way I am losing my deposit over a stain I can’t even see.)

Even after all that mayhem, Jake and I still had to organize things in this apartment. We finally got more or less fully settled in on Sunday. And by “settled in” I mean there are no more boxes to trip over in the kitchen.

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Jake is still clinging to a few boxes of electronic knick knacks, dohickys, and thingamabobs, but he at least moved them into the corner by his desk, so those don’t could against the whole “settled in” status.

In addition to that chaos. At work we had one person quit unexpectedly and three new people start in nine person office. Proportionally, this was a pretty drastic shift in personnel. Also, in addition to our gradually increasing daily workload (colder weather means more and more furnace applications), a switch to a new phones system has caused our voicemail assignments to triple. Not like that’s a big deal at all… Pffff… Who does love being expected to do three times the work in the same amount of time for the same pay?

As if that wasn’t an already near crippling amount of stress, ASU has now messed up my admission application, again. I got an email late Friday saying that my transcripts were not received by the Graduate English Department. This made my eye start twitching, because I confirmed that my transcripts were received in late August, and I even checked again in October.

Being that it was after business hours on a Friday, I frantically reordered transcripts and wrote out the most beautifully worded email ever conceived by mankind. It was equal amounts factual, apologetic, and tactfully placing blame on my scatter brained enrollment advisor.

Come to find out on Monday, my transcripts were received by my enrollment advisor, but were not properly attached to my application. And now no one seems to know what happened to them. The fun just never ends.

My saving grace through all this nonsense, has been my wonderful fiance Jake. Shoutout to him for putting things away on the high shelves for me, making my favorite meals for me, and topping everything off by surprising me with a bouquet of flowers. All day things may be madness with work and school, but when I come home all I can do is smile and appreciate all the good things I have going on here.

Weekend in Milwaukee

This past weekend I decided to visit my friend, Emma, in Milwaukee.  She’s currently going to school there on a non-stop, thrill ride of an adventure to become an actuary. Super jealous right? All those crazy nights white-knuckling a statistics textbook? What a rush!

This was my first time visiting her kickass apartment. It is simply stunning. I’m talking real wood floors, wooden doors with ornate metal details, archways between rooms, an old radiator, and built-in, glass door bookshelves. To die for right? And right outside her apartment door is an trapezoidal skylight with a old metal chain hanging down from it. And don’t even get me started about the built in spice pantry!

Emma got dressed up in her most modern mystic outfit, and we headed out to the Milwaukee Art Museum to discuss some high level art. AKA- We got really good at bullshitting some intellectual sounding shit. We would compete to see who could come up with the best explanation for what the artist was trying to capture.

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This one is obviously capturing our future apocalyptic destruction by raining rocks. Duh.

Their contemporary art gallery was outstanding. And especially with Emma’s love of minimalism and cubes, we had a blast.

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Obviously, a lopsided butterfly.

Afterwards we had coffee, and walked the breakwater.

Milwaukee is gorgeous, and I honestly don’t understand why it gets such a bad rap in Wisconsin.

Personally, I love seeing the water, the trees, the old brick mansions, the stacked overpasses, the crowded jumble that is downtown. It’s all lovely. I honestly struggle to drive through Milwaukee, because I want to gawk at all the cool things passing by.

I really don’t visit Milwaukee enough given all the cool stuff it has to offer. Not to worry though, I’ll be back to visit my Emma soon enough.

 

The 8 Most Outrageously Inappropriate Things People have Said to Me Because I have Short Hair

I’ve had short hair a majority of my life. Up until the age of five I had a an honest to god bowl cut (I don’t know what my mom was thinking). I grew out my hair for four years until it was half way down my back, and then chopped it off into a bod in fourth grade for Locks of Love.

Since then my hair has only gotten shorter. I sported a bob through middle school, and got my first pixie cut the summer before my freshman year of high school. Ever since I’ve had just about every variation of a pixie cut that you, or any hair stylist for that matter, could imagine.

I love having short hair. It’s easy to take care of, easy to style, and easy to grow out a little and get cut completely differently. Honestly I feel like my hair looks better short than it ever could long. Having short hair makes me feel confident.

However, there are still some downsides to getting a delightfully downsized ‘do. First and foremost, people treat you differently. I remember we I first showed up to school after I cut my hair super short, my friend Zoe literally screamed, and not in the ‘oh my god I love your hair’ kind of way, more like a shocked and horrified kind of way.

Despite all this, I’ve never had any regrets about cutting my hair this short. Never mind the fact that I don’t think I’ll ever have the motivation or the patience to grow out and maintain long hair ever again.

But more than just initial reactions, the entire time I’ve had my hair short people have treated me differently. Children will often ask me whether I’m a boy or a girl because I have short hair like a boy and wear dresses like a girl. People sometimes stare at me in public. And all too often I get an outrageously inappropriate comments from some ignorant asshole who feels so moved by my physical appearance, that they simply must speak up about it.

Here are 8 examples of outrageously inappropriate things that people have said to me just because I have short hair:

1.”You should grow out your hair. I want to see what it looks like.

This one is probably the most common comment I get on the length of my hair. It’s mostly just really annoying, because how can one reply, “Yes, I will spend the next three to five years grow out my hair for your viewing pleasure,” without mountain’s worth of sarcasm?

 

2. “Have a great day, sir!”

This wouldn’t bother me if it were a sincere mistake. I understand that if I’m wearing a baggy clothing and my hair isn’t done that well, I can appear a bit androgynous. Sometimes people can’t tell, and although it’s never fun being misgendered, I try to understand that not all people are as conscious of non-traditional expressions of gender. However, when I am standing in plain view of someone, in full hair and makeup, in a ruffly, cap-sleeved shirt, and petticoated skirt, and they spout, “Have a great day, sir!” There is no excuse. I will never understand why people fixate on hair so much as the ultimate calling card of gender, and it will never cease to amaze me the number of feminine markers people are willing to overlook, because of my short hair.

 

3. “I think you would look prettier with long hair.”

Wow, bitch. I think you would look prettier if you didn’t criticize people’s style choices to their face. Just incredibly rude. Enough said.

4. “How will you ever meet a guy looking like that?”

Well one thing’s for sure, the one I meet will be open minded about gender expression and won’t expect me to conform to oppressive, gendered beauty standards.

5.”I’m just not attracted to girls who look like you. Short hair just doesn’t do it for me.”

Well I’m sorry that you are so shallow that you would totally disregard a woman, because of the length of her hair. In all honestly, I’m not attracted to boys like you either. Assholes just don’t do it for me.

6. “Are you ex-military?”

I got this comment from a coworker after I had my overgrown pixie cut trimmed down with shaved sides and a texturized top. There were so many things wrong with this question. It’s just ridiculous. Why would me getting my already short hair trimmed shorter imply past military service? Does he not realize that women in the army can have long hair should they choose? Not to mention the fact that the amount of hair product needed to style my hair would have been totally unfeasible to maintain if I were in the military. Did I forget to mention that I had to explain to him three times that I’ve never been in the military, because he didn’t believe me the first two times?

7. “I could never date a girl like you, because I like to pull a girl’s hair in bed.”

Yes, someone actually had the gall to look me in the eye and say this. It’s easily the most inappropriate comment I have ever received about my short hair. Where to even begin? Well, to start, you’re just plain wrong, at least logistically speaking. I might not have much, but there is still plenty to pull on top of my head here. Also, you’re biggest problem with ‘dating a girl like me’ is that I’m not interested. Lastly, a better statement would be, “I could never date a girl who didn’t put up with douchebags, because I am one.”

I’ll never understand the strange weight that is attached to hair as a marker of gender. It’s ridiculous that many people have felt entitled enough to say shit like this to me on multiple occasions. However, I hope the real take away here is that, regardless of the reason, whether it’s hair length, weight, height, skin color, ability, or sexuality, it is never okay to treat people poorly. People are so much more than their first impressions.

Be kind out there.

Quotable Quips

Hello again people of the interwebs! I figured it was about time we had another segment of Quotable Quips. For those of you not aware of the hilarious delight that is Quotable Quips, allow me to explain: These are quotes from either myself or my fiance, Jake, displayed here without any context whatsoever. Feel free to make up your own context as you try to make sense of all this nonsense.

  • “Shit! I made a tunnel.”
  • “I call it the toaster, because kitty loafin’ like bread about to pop!”
  • “Is you doin’ the seduce?”
  • “Become less squish.”
  • “Kitty play tap tap on the BUNS!”
  • “Yous cutting the bed at a diagonal dissecting the bed like a sandmich.”
  • “You butter whore!”
  • “We don’t need donuts because we are adults, and we have Oreos at home.”
  • Sang to the tune of Striped Sweater from Spongebob Squarepants: “The best time to wear a tiny sweater is winter tIME. Cuz otherwise kitty overhEAT.”
    • “PSA- by the kitties too hot council.”

As usual, Charlie wins the award for most popular topic, so he gets to be a little ham in the featured picture. Yet again, he proves to be the most interesting part of our lives. (Luckily Jake and I don’t care if our lives revolve around Charlie since he’s so damn cute! Look at his fluffy tail! Look at it! Tell me you wouldn’t move mountains for that face.)

Let me know what your favorite quotes were in the comments below.