Saturday, March 19, 2011

We'll Be Right Bark

Today, I feel like Jay Sherman.

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Friday, March 18, 2011

White Sale

So I think I might be White.

You know, I wasn't sure about it whenever I read, "The Things White People Like," because I did like SOME of those things, but I also hated a lot of the others. I felt like I liked as many of the things on that list that anyone would like, regardless of race.

Alright, so I probably like a lot more of those things that I'm willing to admit, but the point is that not only am I currently going through a hipster-crisis, but I'm currently going through a white person-crisis. My suspicions were confirmed today as I recounted, in my head, my activities for the day:

1. After I showered this morning and put on a plaid camp-shirt, matching tank top and flats, I opened the doors and windows to my house and said, "Wow, I really should be doing something outside!"
2. I went to Subway and ordered a sandwich with the flatbread because I shouldn't be eating that bread that's so full of carbs (this actually went through my head).
3. I went to Starbucks to get an Iced Americano and used the internet...and then I complained about both of these things on Facebook.
4. I drove my Subaru Outback to the Antique shop and bought a vintage settee for more than it was probably worth because it was JUST LIKE the one my grandmother had, and it would go nicely on my front porch, surrounded by my summer garden of herbs and flowers.
5. I promptly went to Home Depot and bought Aqua paint for this settee because it was a really cute color that would really set-off that lime green Buddha that is hanging out on my front porch already. I scrubbed the settee down and thought to myself, "What a nice weekend project!"

And here we are.

The amount of self-loathing that is rising up in my gullet is second only to the self-realization that I really like all of these activities.

I wonder if Dustin knew he was marrying a white chick.  Best Blogger Tips

Thursday, March 17, 2011

Amazing Grace

The Reader's Digest, on top of being the most widely read magazine in the world, is also the place where, apparently, you can get some sweet wares. Last month, there was a Harbor Freight coupon for everyone to enjoy, and this month

What an amazing sight, indeed.

Now, I realize that the target audience for this magazine is well above my own age, but really? I really hope that when Dustin and I are taking our wish-vacation to the New England states, that we happen upon a house that has these beauties lining the walkways. Nothing says, "Summer in Vermont," quite like plastic birds that are indigenous to the equator.

I'm all for Kitsch, but these are not intended to be used in a way that says, "I'm tacky and I love myself for it," or they wouldn't be sold in Reader's Digest. With that being said, if I had a yard and lived in an Airstream Trailer...I would seriously consider these.

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Wednesday, March 16, 2011

I Didn't Really Need a Living Wage, Anyway.

Reader's Digest (a yearly gift from my mother) always has articles entitled, "Things Your (Blank) Won't Tell You." There have been cellular phone salesman, doctors, postal carriers, etc., but the newest article is Human Resources Representatives. I knew that I shouldn't have read this article from the title, but I did, and I'm angrier for it.

A few choice quotes,

"When it comes to getting a job, who you know really does matter. No matter how nice your resume is or how great your experience may be, it's all about connections."

"People assume someone's reading their cover letter. I haven't read one in 11 years."

"Is it harder to find a job if you're fat? Absolutely. Like George Clooney's character said in Up in The Air, 'I stereotype. It's faster.' "

"Most of us use applicant-tracking systems to scan resumes for keywords. The secret to getting your resume through the system is to pull keywords from the job description and put them on. The more matches you have, the more likely your resume will get picked and actually seen by a real person."

So wait, not only do you rely on computer programs, connections, and fat stereotypes to find applicants to interview, but you also don't actually read the cover letters when you do finally decide to start the interview process. It really begs the question, what exactly does the Human Resources Department do?

Not only do most HR departments actually employ people specifically for hiring (others are doing insurance, employee benefits, etc., unless there's a benefits department), but they also employ hiring managers in their respective departments to conduct interviews, rate applicants and make hiring decisions. What are these people doing? If immediately, because I'm overweight, I'm nixed in the interview process, why are you wasting my time? Clearly, you're not listening to anything that I'm saying about my experience, qualifications or gumption, so why not hire a bunch of sluts in daisy dukes and stop paying all of these HR liaisons? You could at least have a serious mud-wrestling competition, even if none of the actual work gets done.

I forgot, though, that it's perfectly acceptable to discriminate against fat people. God forbid you'd discriminate against a minority, but fat people...they're just gross and lazy.

I haven't had a corporate job since 2008, and I can clearly see why I've only been called in for a few interviews in the last three years. I should probably be more upset about that, but somehow, I'm glad that I'm not forced to sit in a cubicle all day staring at a computer screen. I have this zen-like sense of accomplishment at not being trapped in a shitty office that dictates my life before and after work, and judges me based upon how I look, who I know, and what I'm willing to take in order to make money.

So what are the alternatives? In a perfect world, I would love to start my own business that was run in a way that made me feel good about the product I was selling or the service I was providing. Making my own rules, living above the stereotypes and hiring those that I see fit without the stigma of physical appearance or connectedness.

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Tuesday, March 15, 2011

Wreck dat Shit

My attention has been pretty much consumed by, a site where you can swap all kinds of various items with like-minded individuals. Postcards, stickers, stationery, thrift store wares, tshirts, etc., are all ripe for the swapping. There are various swaps held by members of the site and then you can decided to join the swap or "watch" the swap, to see if it has enough members that may hold your attention. Although some people make take it a little too seriously (jesus, I mean, there are people that use way too many exclamation points when describing what they want. It's not a department store. It's supposed to be fun), it's generally a bunch of slightly-bizarre people that want to trade their stuff and meet people with similar interests. 

One of my last swaps was to create a "Wreck this Journal." If you don't know much about this concept, I'll let Amazon explain it for me,

For anyone who's ever wished to, but had trouble starting, keeping, or finishing a journal or sketchbook comes Wreck This Journal, an illustrated book that features a subversive collection of prompts, asking readers to muster up their best mistake- and mess-making abilities to fill the pages of the book (and destroy them). Acclaimed illustrator Keri Smith encourages journalers to engage in "destructive" acts-poking holes through pages, adding photos and defacing them, painting with coffee, and more-in order to experience the true creative process. Readers discover a new way of art and journal making-and new ways to escape the fear of the blank page and fully engage in the creative process.

The idea of overcoming your own hurdles and "wrecking" a book is something very engaging and liberating. In Smith's work, most of her pages call for destruction, and that it so foreign to so many people that look at journals as something to be treasured and kept for eternity: collecting dust and holding embarrassing thoughts about relationships, awful poetry and shitty drawings.

When I was given the task of creating a journal like this for a swap partner, I found that I didn't necessarily JUST want to destroy it, but I wanted to make the reader think. I asked the reader to "write a letter to your favorite celebrity," or "draw a picture of your favorite childhood toy," or "collect the tags from everything you buy and paste them here." Subliminally, or perhaps not too subliminally, this allows the journaler to really think about what they're doing and not just be destructive for the sake of being destructive.

As with most of the things that I do, I have to wonder if my swap partner will think that I am as clever as I think I am. In turn, I wonder what the journal that I receive from my swap partner will be like? The anticipation of receiving such a prize is really awesome, but not as awesome as sending something away to someone that you've never met.

To be a swap weirdo is really something that you have to embrace fully, or you'll just send someone crappy postcards with pictures of Atlanta, Georgia on them...looking all fancy and sunny. Who the hell wants something like that?
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Sunday, March 13, 2011

Gawth Tawk

Bela Lugosi's Dead

Truth be told, I'd probably be a goth kid if I had enough time to get ready everyday. I love goth culture, but I fear that I really only love it ironically. I think, though, that the essence of goth is really understanding the futility of everyday living. If that's true, then I've got goth pretty much mastered.

There comes an age where dressing like a fancy bat is really just not cool. While there are plenty of off-shoots in fashion that allow for people over the age of nineteen to wear goth-style clothing (i.e. corpgoth), it can easily get out-of-hand.

Anyway, Dustin and I try to embrace goth culture in a way that's a little more sophisticated and a little less...sitting at Denny's until 4am drinking coffee and writing in your journal. So, Dustin made an assignment for both of us to write a goth poem. They didn't have to be good...which is nice, because they aren't.

Dustin's Poem

Tendons stand along a pale neck
Undressed in sanguine fantasy
Palpates every breath blood-flecked
Under duress apostasy
A-quiver with repulsive scorn
Bombazine shrouds the cantor of sin
Gathering to feast the firstborn
Lovelorn, the wayward gates turn in
Shadows cling to her heaving breast
Whisper betrayals of disease
A dance to which the slags molest
The purest mind a soiled chimney

My Poem

Autopsy Aphrodisiac,
Flotsam death shroud lunacy.
Diseased and blackened tongues in quivering holes,
Unleashed the sicker luciferi.

Red-Hot spits with devilish offspring,
Unlock a disgusting meal.
Coffin lust and desire,
Is Satan's most romantic deal.

Silvery clouds with sanguine bats,
lick their lips with anticipatory malaise.
Humping darkness and cumming fire,
A sexy darkness: a Blaze.

We're not Christina Rossetti, by any means, but with the right eyeliner and cape, I'd probably be able to do a pretty decent Peter Murphy impersonation.

There is one redeeming quality of goth culture...Voltaire.

Have Mercy, I do believe I'm getting the vapors.
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