the only thing worse
than bad memories
is no memories at all..
[dismemberment plan]
7.30.2004
My New Job Working For A Nice Old Chinese Dude Is Pretty Awesome.
**Alternate title:
Why I Am The Best Receptionist Ever, Even Though My Job Doesn't Start Until This Coming Monday (Thank you Sheila!).**
Hi, oh nice to meet you! We spoke on the phone earlier this week. Yeah, I'm the one who you asked if I was hyperventilating after I asked if we were allowed to wear capri pants as "office casual." I might have said "clam-diggers" or "cropped trousers." Do you remember that? Yes, Patricia. You got it! No, no, not Pa-TREE-sha, it's "Puh. Trih. Sha." God, you sound like one of my internet stalker cronies! -- Hahaha! -- ... What? Oh nevermind. No, no... I mean it. NEVERMIND. Forget it! Just call me Trisha or whatever. I don't care. Just not "PAT." Thanks.
Oh, a handshake? Okay, sure. I guess that's what professionals do, right? Not that I think I'm a professional yet or anything, but damn, don't I look good in this pantsuit and pantyhose? What? Yeah, that was a joke. .. Oh. Sorry. And sorry my hand is so sweaty. Must be my overactive kidneys getting all tingly and aroused about this new office job.
Oh hey, I really do appreciate the job offer. Oh. Oh really? You did -a lot- of interviews before you hired me? And I'm the one you picked? Awwwww. Well. That's weird, because, -- haha --, you know, I didn't even have an interview with you at all before I was hired. And also, I'm not sure why you think I have some kind of office experience, because I sure as hell do not.
Well, what I mean is, did you even read the resume that I sent you? My prior "office" work experience includes working the cash register at Lowes, and before that, working another cash register at CVS, and before that, working another cash register at Burger King (-- though at BK, my job was totally diversified. Yeah. Like, sometimes I put the giant colostomy bag of milkshake mix into that big milkshake machine, sometimes I dropped fries into a boiling vat of grease... You know, diversified.)...
So what I mean is, when you're throwing these crazy office-related words like "payments receivable" and "payments sendable" and "invoices" and "telephone" in my face, and give me this huge desk covered with cool, kick-ass rubber stamps that say things like "Paid," "Posted," and "Copy," I should probably let you know that by the end of the day, all these papers are going to be covered in all sorts of stampy shit. What? Oh yeah. I know I have "Void" stamped on my forehead. I did it on purpose, doi! Really ironic, huh? So ironic it's funny! I'm so clever, I crack myself up. Get it? "Void"? On my forehead? ... Come ON! Man, you old office working Chinese dudes need to get a sense of HUMOR! It's like working in a COFFIN! Work with me here! Get it? Haha, ... Get it? "Work with m--" oh nevermind!! Jesus Christ on a shishkabob!
You're concerned that I'm not going to take this job seriously? Oh come on! Believe me -- I get so intensely into paperwork and projects, that soon, you'll see me hunched over and mouth-breathing at my desk like the rest of you, my eyes half-lidded, leaning so heavily on my pink flourescent highlighter that the tip is as sharp as a dog turd. Oh excuse my French -- Did I just say "turd"? Well, Jesus fucking Christ, there I go, letting my foul potty mouth say something like T-U-R-D on the first day of my brand FUCKING new job. Can you believe that shit? What? What, is it something I said? I said I was sorry!
What? Do I feel like I'm under pressure at this job already? No-Oo! -- Oh shit! Did you hear my voice just crack like a young choirboy's? Yeah. That's just the excitement coming through, vocally. I do really well with deadlines and all of that. In fact, the only pressure I do well under is deadlines.
I don't do well under social pressure, though. Deadlines, yes; awkward situations, no. I refuse to dance down the middle of two rows of shiny, clapping people at DJ'ed dancefloor parties while an electro-house beat thumps in the back of my throat. I do not freestyle rap (at least, not in public, tee hee!). If you think I'm an idiot, I will not put on a variety performance, showcasing my wit, intelligence, charm, and the agility of my long, slender fingers as they sensually caress the keys of a sonorous, beautifully curved tuba. In fact, chances are, I'm just going to act like a goddamn idiot. A drunk, stupid, immature idiot. What? No, I didn't say drunk. I TOLD you, it's just apple juice! Fine, apple cider then. Oh stop that. "Don't judge me! You don't know me!" -- That's what all those ugly white teenagers say on Jenny Jones.
Do I have any questions? What, you wanna get rid of me already? Heh heh! Oh, I have some questions, alright. Oh boy! You might want to sit down. -- Not there! That's my chair, bitch! Oh, sorry. But I was just joki--okay.
Here we go: *Ahem.* Oooh, excuse me. Got some nasty phlegm. Oh, hey, wanna see it? No? Well... ...Okay, your loss, buddy.
Number one: Can I get a raise? Yeah, I know this isn't even officially my first day at work (-- I'm still getting paid for today though, right? ... Right?), but seriously -- The New York minimum wage is $7.50 now. Working for $0.50 cents above minimum wage is hardly an incentive to do more than sit at my computer, catch a nap in the ladies room, watch some internet porn videos, IM some idiots, and slowly pilfer office supplies until I bleed this company dry... ESPECIALLY if I have to wake up at 6:30 in the goddamn morning to take an hour long train ride (which is $13 fucking 75!), get on a subway with a broken air conditioner that's been pleasantly fragranced with a generous sackful of a homeless person's diarrhea, walk a few blocks south where construction workers thoughtfully romance me in various languages about what they want to do with their private parts moving inside my private parts in a pleasurably rhythmic, fluid motion, and walk a block west where the same homeless man with dreadlocks asks me for either a nickel or a condom every_single_time...! GOD!
Question number B: Okay. Yo. Old Chinese dude -- Seriously. Why was I hired? (Did you hear my voice crack again? It's the excitement!) I have no office experience to speak of, I sound like a sobbing, frightened autistic boy on the telephone, ... What? Because you like looking at miniskirts and heels around the office once in a while? Oh. Okay, cool. I guess it's time to bust out the stilettos and give the girls a nice polish. Guess I'd better pick out the toe lint, cover up my blisters, ... and scrape off them corns so I can feed Ma some fiber for dinner! God knows she needs some bulk in that colon of hers for a nice solid B.M.! Get it? Corns? B.M.?? I'm just kidding. OH come on. OH STOP MAKING THAT FACE AT ME.
Oh. And oh yeah -- Hey. Am I allowed to come out of this cave now?
Can I take off this blindfold and can you untie me now? My parents are probably getting worried (-- they're old! Old people love to worry and knit.), and my arms, well, they're getting pretty un-comfortably numb. ... What! Not a Pink Floyd fan then? Oh, oh yeah, I forgot. Yeah, you're right, I guess -- if I were an old Chinese dude, I suppose I wouldn't be to into Floyd that much either. It's cool.
... Wh-- ... Wait a minute. Hello?
... Hello...?
Howwabout a group hug now? Awww. That's nice.
See you Monday morning at 10!
Be there or be square! Or, be an old Chinese dude! ... Get it? .... GET IT???
Here's the deal -- each individual situation DID in fact happen.
All you have to do is figure out which number of each letter choice corresponds with another number of the next letter choice. So you're going to have four individual sets of answers, one of which would look something like A3., B1., C2., D4., etc.
Did that make sense? Probably not. But if you can't figure out what the hell you're supposed to do, you're either a complete retard or you can at least have some fun making up stories about my crazy friends with strong lesbian tendencies.
** EDIT: My brainiac buddy Hamilton has made a quiz format to get the letter/number combinations down a LOT faster. Use it here! THANKS MAN. **
First person who figures out the four correct sets of answers and leaves them in the comments will get a MYSTERIOUS AWESOME PRIZE! ... which I will figure out if anyone actually gets it right.
Answers will be revealed once I lose patience with the massive number of COMPLETELY WRONG submissions. I am tipping my hat at anyone who actually has the patience of guessing all the choices from A-K when I didn't even have the willpower to type out one full set in my example answer above.
Anyway, stop being a lazy shit and do this crap!!! It's FUN, really! I promise. Plus, don't forget about the PRIZE!
Here we go:
Once upon a time,
A1. my friend Melissa,
A2. this girl Sandy,
A3. my buddy Tanya,
A4. this lady that worked at Old Navy,
who...
B1. was a chunky Puerto Rican girl,
B2. looked like Richard Simmons,
B3. was a skinny blonde girl,
B4. was a chubby Jewish girl,
and liked to eat...
C1. Nutella straight out of the jar,
C2. peanut butter and jelly sandwiches with milk,
C3. salt and vinegar potato chips,
C4. vagina,
D1. followed me around asking if I needed help finding anything.
D2. let me swim in her pool.
D3. invited me over to run through her sprinklers.
D4. asked me to watch TV with her at her house.
My fondest memory of the two of us is...
E1. perusing her collection of walnut shells decorated to look like the Spice Girls,
E2. watching porn on Spice TV while her parents were out,
E3. looking for a cheap bikini while she hid behind the clothing racks and peeked at me,
E4. playing Candyland in her basement,
or maybe it was...
F1. talking about how much she loved Michael Jordan and J.C. Chasez for hours while secretly wanting to shoot myself in the face.
F2. listening to her talk to someone in the next dressing room stall about built-in shelf bras for hours while secretly wanting to shoot myself in the face.
F3. playing Life in her basement for hours while secretly wanting to shoot myself in the face.
F4. watching her play her tiny keyboard very badly for hours while secretly wanting to shoot myself in the face.
All the while, unbeknownst to her, I had a silly school girl crush on...
G1. her boyfriend Greg.
G2. her cousin Greg.
G3. her uncle (not named Greg, unfortunately).
G4. probably some faggot that worked at Guitar Center, possibly named Greg.
In any case, once I got over there...
H1. she told my mom what a "beautiful, young Asian girl" I am.
H2. she asked me if I'd seen "Wild Things" and if I thought the lesbian scene in it was hot.
H3. she put on some awful N*Sync and grabbed my arms to dance with her.
H4. she turned on the sprinklers and we got soaking wet.
Then,
I1. she put her hands on my waist and I2. she stripped completely naked and
I3. she pushed me into her closet and
I4. she repeatedly banged on the locked door hard enough to almost knock it open and
J1. screamed, "I'M COMING IN THERE! I WANNA SEE HOW CUTE YOU LOOK! DON'T MAKE ME KNOCK THIS DOOR DOWN! I'LL DO IT!"
J2. danced around in a big circle.
J3. tried to kiss me.
J4. screamed, "GIVE ME A KISS, JUST A LITTLE ONE ON THE LIPS."
Then, I freaked out and...
K1. said, "umm, that's okay. Really,"
K2. yelled, "MOM! GET THIS CRAZY LESBIAN AWAY FROM ME!!
K3. left, feeling very strange,
K4. screamed, "OH MY GOD, GET AWAY FROM ME!!" and punched her in her fat, ugly titty,
which...
L1. made her fat, ugly grandmother scream something in a foreign language that I didn't understand from downstairs.
L2. made my mom laugh as she watched this crazy lesbian jiggle my door violently to see my naked ass.
L3. caused an awkwardness between us that made us not talk to us until she tried to invite me over to have a threesome with her boyfriend.
L4. went by unnoticed, as though nothing had happened.
Today, she is probably...
M1. sucking cock for cocaine and Hot Topic clothing.
M2. sucking cock for abortion money.
M3. sucking cock for more jars of Nutella.
M4. still an ugly lesbian working a shitty job at Old Navy.
You all have witnessed my mom's great Engrish skills, but don't worry, my dad is just as Asian and hilarious.
According to my brother, my dad apparently has been responding to the greeting "What's up?" with:
"Nott lilly."
(In English: "Not really.")
I have a big post about naked old ladies and my many encounters with lesbians and shit coming up soon. I just wanna get it all together right so I don't fuck anything up.
I kind of forgot about this site, what with all the dump running madness and such.
After all of my pissing and moaning and tossing and turning in bed over being unemployed, another fine young lady from pre-college days has found a job for me, this time during the school year!
Time to sit back and let the bennies roll in.
And by "sit back" I mean run more dump. Until September, at least.
Don't worry, guys, I have a shitload of stories to tell about my job at Nordstrom.
Just you wait.
I figured that it was a lost cause, but HOLY SHIT! I just got a job!
I got a call from one of my ladyfriends today, and mistaking the mysterious 908 area code as another call from one of my New Jerseyan telephone stalkers, I waited for the voicemail alert.
Expecting heavy breathing and a line like "A HURRR IS THIS.. PATREE, er.. SHA? A HURR.. WHATUP LEETOL GUUURLLL," blasting into my ear, I did an advance eye roll, but no, I GOT A JOB INSTEAD.
I'm really proud of my mom for sticking to some online keyboarding tutorial and learning how to type on her own. Yay, Mom!
Here's a few snippets of conversation we've had on AIM. (NO, IT IS NOT HER REAL SCREENNAME. I'm not completely retarded.) It really shows how much progress she's made, despite her cute stumpy sausage fingers and Engrish skills.
05/31/04
My mom and dad were huddled over our old laptop on our dining room table together. Mystified by the Caps Lock key, they typed a confused greeting:
SpeedyMom: HI?
spinkies55: hello
SpeedyMom: HELLOW,DARLING
spinkies55: haha
spinkies55: dad?
spinkies55: or mom?
SpeedyMom: BOTH spinkies55: hello
SpeedyMom: WHAT
06/30/04
Mom figures out how to use the dreaded emoticons:
SpeedyMom: thangs to wash to dishes.
spinkies55: no problemo
SpeedyMom: i am still very slow to type
SpeedyMom: just i want
SpeedyMom: to
spinkies55: ?
SpeedyMom: what happen?
Someone set us up the bomb? (Sorry, couldn't resist the "ALL YOUR BASE ARE BELONG TO US" response. I tried.)
07/10/04
My mom mistakenly takes my idle message as an update of my everyday activities. Anyone who watches Aqua Teen Hunger Force knows that it's a quote from the episode with Ol' Drippy. Stricken with shame, my mom later tells me that she was about to kick down my door and strangle me until I died when she read it. Also, yes, my mom is a total church freak:
SpeedyMom: hi,
Auto response from spinkies55: "Idle hands spend time at the genitals." SpeedyMom: shame on you!
SpeedyMom: get up and wash your hands right now more then an hour
with a dial soup and alcohol then cut your all finger nails!
SpeedyMom: get rid of that the nastiest auto message right now and yrt to purify yourself with your clear mind and with
my tons of tears!
SpeedyMom: TO A BEAUTIFUL PERSON.
SpeedyMom: If God had a refrigerator, your picture would be on it.
SpeedyMom: Ifhe had a wallet, your photo would be in it.He send you
flowers evbry spring.
SpeedyMom: He send you a sunrise every opring.
SpeedyMom: I want to corret a above sentence.
Auto response from spinkies55: "Idle hands spend time at the genitals." SpeedyMom: He send you a sunrise every morning.
SpeedyMom: Whenever you want to talk, he listens.
SpeedyMom: He can live anywhere in the universe, but he chose your
heart.
SpeedyMom: Face it friend,he is crazy about you.
SpeedyMom: God did not promise days without pain, laughter without
sorrow, sun without rain, but he did promise strength for the days,comfort for the tears, and light for the way.
SpeedyMom: Send this to every "beautiful person" you wish to bless, and return it to the person who send it
to you.
Auto response from spinkies55: "Idle hands spend time at the genitals." SpeedyMom: Lets have a nice day!
Steven Spielberg's latest watery-brown-streak-in-the-underpants (in other words, it seemed to have lots of potential but just wasn't solid), "The Terminal," was the first movie that ever made me give the screen the finger.
Tom Hanks was one of the only things that keeps the movie from being a complete shithole, with an immigrant charm (think Balki from TV's "Perfect Strangers"), the other swab-shaped buoy being some tiny old Indian dude (think old Indian dude that sells fruit and incense on a folding table on the corner of 8th) that I think played the tiny old foreign dude in "The Royal Tenenbaums."
Catherine Zeta-Jones was once again beautiful, which was annoying as tits.
Here's something that doesn't sit right in my brain: Remember when she was always included in those glossy girly magazine articles that celebrated the emergence of Latina/Hispanic ladies in the music/film industry (among the likes of J.Lo, Salma Hayek, and Penelope Cruz)? She's from Wales, which the last time I checked, was in Europe.
Does anyone else remember this? When girly fashion/celebrity magazines were plastered with pictures of dark skinned, dark haired, big-assed chicas with flava? It's slightly possible that I could be remembering this inaccurately, further supported by the fact that there's only a few shitty websites that come up on Google, a few of which are just the result of having the name "Catherine Zeta Jones" and "FREE XXX LATINA PREGGO PIX" ads on the same page. Whatever.
Anyway, next time I'm duped into buying an $11 bucket of popcorn and forced to sit in the handicapped seats in the back of the theater (to avoid physically assaulting the gabby old people that filled up the entire theater ["DO YOU WANT SOME FRUIT FROM MY BAG? DID YOU BRING YOUR SWEATER?"], I don't want to watch some stupid 2 hour long sack of horse cock. The only thing worse than watching "The Terminal" would be finding out that you have terminal cancer in your asshole. And even then, it's a tough call.
Okay. I gave it a valiant effort, scouring Classified ads in the paper, online job sites, making calls, even driving up and down Route 9 and stopping into every reasonable looking store to find a summer job. But it looks like it ain't happening. No one is hiring for just the summer. I am unemployed. I am a bum. I am spending this summer in my parent's house on my bed in front of a dusty oscillating fan and looking at the ceiling, waiting for the day that I have to go back to school. Oh my god, it is horrible.
Anyone have a job for me? I'm serious here. That means no blow job jokes. Yeah, it's not funny anymore. I SAID, IT'S NOT FUNNY ANYMORE. OKAY? GOD.
My parents have been on my ass to get something done over the summer, so I've made a short list of To-Do's:
Go to the gym every day and get ripped. Later, complain about having the body of a large man.
Go to the beach as much as possible despite my paralyzing fear of jellyfish and starfish and horseshoe crabs.
Learn how to dance like a black girl. First step: grow a booty. Second: rent "Save the Last Dance." ...On second thought, nevermind. Nothing could make me sit down and watch a white chick with Down Syndrome (Julia Stiles) try to hip hop dance. No thanks.
Find Jon Bon Jovi and destroy him. DESTROY HIM.
Tonight, I have to take my mom out to see Phantom of the Opera on Broadway for her birthday. I'd rather eat the corn kernels out of a diabetic baby's soiled diaper on a hot summer day than sit through this kind of misery, but in my 19.5 years, I've learned that with moms, you have to treat them right -- otherwise you're going to have to hear about it for the rest of your life as though it's the Injustice of The Millenium (i.e. the electric canopener Mother's Day present mistake of '92). So tonight, you'll all know where I'm going to be -- sitting at the Majestic Theatre as people cavort about the stage singing showtunes, desperately wishing I could punch myself in the brain.
[Peek-a-Foo]