It’s that time of year when people start going to work holiday parties. It’s also the time of year for family, love, giving, blah blah blah.
Once upon a time I had a job that threw a holiday party. Free booze, free food, free drunken interactions with people you normally don’t speak to, free awkward next Monday.
When I was interning at the PR firm they threw a big dinner AND THEN we all went out on a holiday trolley. Uh, hi, happy holidays to me. Though that job wasn’t my favorite and I was dating the ex-who-shall-not-be-named so it’s probably best I’ve moved away from that phase of life. If only I’d gotten to keep the trolley in the divorce…
Now, as a nanny the opportunity for a office-wide holiday party is pretty much nonexistent, legally speaking. Though I did get free food and booze at the boys birthday party about a month ago so, hey, that’s something.
Besides making me feel like a second class citizen, all my friends going to their works holiday parties make me wonder if I’ll ever attend one of my own again. Will I ever again get my soft spoken coworker to tell me about her sex life? Will I ever again shot gun a beer with my boss? Will I ever again sort of like that annoying guy who sits near me who I thought I would hate forever? Will I ever get the chance to never speak to them at work post-party?
Maybe someday I will have a significant other who will trust me enough around his colleagues and free alcohol to bring me to their party. I just can’t be sure my future as a public school teacher will include drunk mingling in holiday sweaters. The way I see it, we will all be too tired from working long hours, being poor, and hating Rahm to be able to plan, let alone throw, a holiday party.
Rahm Emmanuel, the Grinch who stole holiday parties.
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Being a girl, I’m sure a majority of you expect me to be writing this post all about how terrible I feel after watching the Victoria’s Secret “fashion” show last night. But, on the contrary, I am not feeling any worse about myself than I would on a normal day. For whatever reason, I was very excited for the VSFS this year.
Why, you might ask, is a extremely cynical, not all that thrilled with her midsection, girl excited for the parade of real life barbies?
My answer is: I really don’t know.
For whatever reason I spent all of yesterday getting excited about watching it. Asking people, “Are you gonna watch the VSFS tonight!?” to which they were all, “I guess? Why are you so excited right now?” Thankfully I work with babies who enjoy seeing me act like an excited crazy person and don’t fully understand what I’m saying so they enjoyed my pre-fashion show excitement. I’m also thankful that I don’t have adult coworkers who I could embarrass myself in front of by talking about VSFS with them all day.
So I get off work at 6 and much to my dismay the show doesn’t start until 9pm. What do I do with my excitement until then? Watch food network, eat a large amount of soup, and ask my friends if they’re excited about VSFS. Two of these said friends are male, and neither of them even knew the fashion show was going to be on.
After hours of Chopped, I can finally turn the TV to the VSFS.
The opening is strange, the middle is strange, and the end is strange.
Why was I so excited for this again?
I suppose I was excited to see beautiful tall women be all “Girl power!” I definitely was not excited for the costumes and the music portion of the whole thing was most likely the worst thing that’s happened to my ears.
And while I’m still amped up about tall women walking down that runway and showing off what they’ve got (and I can’t imagine how hard they worked to get it. I can barely fast walk for 20 minutes.) The end of the VSFS left me feeling like I’d just experienced a rave that I’d heard about from a random new friend who told me it was going to be a small party for a few close friends.
The close friends in this case being Lily Aldridge, Karlie Kloss, Behati Prinsloo and Jourdan Dunn.
Uh, hello, Alessandra Ambrosio who invited you?
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Thanks to my roommate Katie, I have recently become heavily addicted to The New Girl. I was originally extremely hesitant to watch because of my underlying hatred of Zooey Deschanel’s personality, but I trusted Katie’s sense of humor so I proceeded with caution.
And boy am I glad I did. This show is fucking hilarious. And, more importantly, Zooey D is somehow not obnoxious.
It’s taken me only two days to get to Season 2, which is sort of an accomplishment. As I watch it, and LOL, I find myself relating to Zooey D in a way I thought was never ever possible. Besides our sizes being opposite, she a small baby doll, and me a tall lumber woman, me and her character Jess might be soul sisters.
She’s awkward. Check.
A teacher. Almost check.
Has guy friends who she enjoys forcing to talk about their feelings. Check Check Check.
When I first started realizing this little check list of mine, it got me thinking about why I REALLY liked the show. Did I actually enjoy the comedy? Did the plot actually interest me? Or am I just a raging narcissist who’s using this show to make me feel better about my relatively average life.
This got my wheels turning about who I thought I was within each of my other entertainment outlets.
Bob’s Burgers-I am a combo of all members of the Belcher family, but if I had to choose one I’d most likely be Tina.
Breaking Bad-I am Jesse. With maybe a dash of Skyler and Walter Jr.
Bulls Games-I am Mirotic’s body with the heart of D. Rose.
Food Network Shows-I am Alex Guarnaschelli before she started making those weird pecan commercials.
News: During the week I’m the beautiful woman news anchor who does the morning broadcasts on CLTV, on the weekend I’m Melissa Harris-Perry.
Sons of Anarchy: I’d like to think I’m Jemma but am probably a scared towns person.
Which came first, my interest in the show or my ability to identify with a character?
Are there shows I wasn’t able to get into purely based on my inability to manifest myself in the cast?
Did I stop watching House of Cards because I wanted to be Claire too badly?
WHO AM I!?
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My first thought when I decided to write a Thanksgiving blog was, “How convenient that this year Thanksgiving is on a Thursday so I can write about it in my Wednesday blog.” Only to realize five seconds later that it is on a Thursday every year, and my posts rarely correspond with a reality other than my own, and so this whole theme thing was quickly becoming a wash.
Thanksgiving has always been a favorite holiday of mine, mostly because it’s centered around food. It’s nice, too, because the older I get the more I realize how thankful I am. It’s easy to pick out the things I’ve always been thankful for: Family, Friends, Food and Dogs. And beer. And shelter. Since this year has been a pretty tumultuous one for me, I’d like to get a little more specific.
The year started out with my boss firing me after trying to give her a months notice that I’d be leaving, so I spent the first month of the year with no income. I’m thankful for my parents being my safety net in that scenario, and also very thankful that they sent me to Mexico while I waited to start my new job.
Then my best friend, Hannah, moved to Los Angeles and I’m thankful that we’re still as close as ever, even though we’re a million* miles away from each other. I’m also thankful that she works her butt off to make the city of Los Angeles a more just place for every person living there. In fact, I’m thankful to all my friends for being the most admirable people I know.
In May I moved extremely close to a grocery store, which allows me to be the super weird girl who wants to make everything from scratch. But, then some days is tired and eats mac and cheese from the hot bar. I’m thankful for that hot bar.
I’m thankful for my classmates and teachers at DePaul who remind me everyday to never stop learning, and that life is so much better that way. I’m also thankful to my brain for not giving up on me after all I’ve done to it.
The boys I nanny turn one today, and I’m thankful that I get to be with them five days a week. They make life so much less serious, and remind me how un-serious my own is.
And, well, I’m of course thankful to you my readers (aka my mom and close friends) for supporting me on my sarcastic journey through life.
Last, but certainly not least, I’m thankful for my dog, Belle, who forces me to wake up early and take a walk outside dressed like a crazy person. It reminds me to be who I am, and to just love life like she does. It also reminds me how much I fucking hate mornings.
*actual distance may be less than a million miles, but it sure does feel that way.
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My first quarter of school is coming to an end, and it has me, more than anything, wondering where the friggin time goes. I also reflected on the cool stuff I learned about children and how nerdy I’ve become. I spent the rest of my reflecting thinking about my dog.
I got to really reflect on things I’ve learned, as in my entire educational career, two weeks ago when I took the Basic Skills Test, or as it’s named now, Test of Academic Proficiency. Both of these names make you feel like a smarty pants leading up to the test date and then like a total dumbass as you walk away from the test all, “What the fuck was that.”
At least that was my experience, minus the feeling like a smarty pants leading up to the test. I took the practice tests over and over, without a calculator cause you’re not allowed to use them. I will say, the practice did prepare me well for the test, at least the part where I walk away thinking, “What the fuck was that.”
For those of you who are unfamiliar with this torture device, the TAP test is required for all people who want to be a teacher some day. I’m sure it’s also open to those who want to have a good cry.
When I met with my adviser the summer before starting school, she told me that it was absolutely imperative that I take my TAP test the first quarter I’m in school. So, being the nerd that I now am, I signed up to take the test during my first quarter. Half way through said quarter however, I was told how bad of an idea it was to take the TAP while I was in school because studying for it was essentially a class in itself.
Oh cool, wanna maybe tell me that before I spend $125 next time?
You may have guessed by now that I did not pass this god forsaken test. The whole “no calculators allowed” on the math portion really got me good, and it turns out that I suck at grammar as well. Or whatever “language arts” means. BUT! I did pass the reading comprehension part. I am in grad school after all, so thank goodness that skill is still up there.
Guess what some more facts were that they forgot to tell me when I registered for the TAP?
1) Even though the test is taken in sections, so that if you fail one section you don’t have to retake the entire test, you still have to pay the full amount as if you were taking the entire test.
2) The ACT can be substituted for the TAP and the ACT lets you use calculators.
ACT, I’m comin’ for ya.
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Belle graduated from her obedience class on Saturday, here’s a picture so we can all bask in her cuteness:
I am happy about her graduation for two reasons:
1) She can now show off the super cool things she’s learned
2) I will not be in a Petsmart every Saturday.
This second fact is going to have the biggest effect on my life overall, meaning it may cause me to actually have money in my wallet.
You see, for the last six weeks Belle and I have been going into Petsmart so she can take her class. After class, I could certainly walk out the door and just go home. Every so often she’ll need food, so I’d walk to the aisle and buy that. Another day she needed more plastic poop bags, so had to walk through the store and grab those. Then there are those days when she doesn’t need anything, but as I’ve been known to do, I stretched the definition of “need” and buy her a toy or rawhide for doing a good job in class. I even did this after the class where she took a shit in the middle of the room.
Our living room has become the land of destroyed dog toys.
Petsmart is not completely to blame for my lack of control, of course. Two weeks ago before we went to Michigan for the weekend I decided Belle and Nikki, Benny Jays dog who I was watching, needed some treats for the trip so I walked to a local pet store. Along with treats, I was on the hunt for a longer leash for Belle so she could do some quality roaming. However, I went without Belle and didn’t bring her leash for reference so I was left to guesstimate whether or not a leash was longer than the one she already owned. I picked one with a pretty pattern, and it turned out to not be much longer than the one I had at home, but I still kept it and it is now dubbed the “vacation leash”.
Every dog owner has one of these, right?
The final item I picked up on this little trip was a toy, because the 100 we had at home wouldn’t be able to make the trip with us. This beautiful toy was designed to squeak in such a way that would be loud and wonderful to dogs and quiet and even more wonderful to humans. I didn’t know how they did it, and I didn’t even care.
It was the first win/win situation I’d ever encountered.
Belle loved this toy deeply and then, within the week, ripped it to shreds.
Like mother like daughter.
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Though I may not become the megastar that Kanye West is, we have one thing in common: being terrible at registration.
As I’ve expressed, my re-entering into the school scene has proved to be a rough transition, and my recent attempts to register for next quarters classes have proved no less rough.
My classmates and I decided to have a mutual freak out a few weeks ago when we found out we’d have to start doing field experience next quarter which would mean working in a preschool, without pay, for 75 hours over the course of 10 weeks. Though this wouldn’t take up all my time, on top of two other classes it’s certainly going to cut into the hours I can work and get paid for it.
I have a dog daughter to support!
Then I check the “academic plan” one of the program directors gave me before I started school, and it does not say I have to take this internship until NEXT Winter, so I’m all like uh huh ok I can procrastinate that. A day or so later I have a call with another program director so I can go over this plan to not take this class until next year and she’s all, “aw yeah good idea, you’re the coolest.” So last Friday I register for the two classes and am feeling good, an hour or so later I get an email from the program about suggested courses, but I basically ignore it because I have talked to more than enough people about what classes to take and my brain is about to explode.
I go into class Monday, the same class we all had our freak out in, and sit down. I’m pretty much brain dead because I was in Michigan this weekend and then had to return on Sunday and write a five page research paper. Unfortunately my “don’t talk to me” vibe isn’t working properly and someone comes up to me and asks if I registered for classes.
“Did you read the email we got Friday?”
“No, I ignored it cause I’d already talked to her.”
“She says we have to do the internship.”
“God damnit shit fuck crap mother of hatred.”
I then go to my email and actually read what it says, and I indeed do have to do this gosh damn internship next quarter. I have to wonder if it’s me or the program that’s more confused about what classes I need to take. I want to respond to it something very snarky but I resist and instead fall back into my terrible mood coma and survive class.
During class break I attempt to register for the internship on my phone, which is of course only setting my bad mood into overdrive because the website is made to be used on a computer.
“WELL I DON’T HAVE MY COMPUTER, WEBSITE!”
I then slam my phone down and solidify myself as the obnoxious angry girl who sits in the back of class with her carthartt beanie still on.
I am not sorry.
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