Thursday, May 29, 2014

I'm Not Awful (In Comparison)

My only goal in life is to be better than the most horrible person in the room. 
Depending on the company, that aim can be quite lofty or laughably easy. 
Par exemple:
Mumsifer & I got our nails done today. While there, a group of 3 young females came in. They proceeded to slam complimentary lime-a-ritas (because our nail salon is fab) and badmouth their boss. So normal lady stuff. 
But then
one of these chickadees proved herself to be the most horrible of anyone ever. 
Upon asking for a second round of free drinks, the owner signaled for them to be served a wee bit less than the norm, probs because this chica was loud & obnoxious without being drunk.
The lovely lady, catching sight of this signal, called out the owner, imitated Asian language sounds, claimed she's dating an Asian so she understands what they're saying, told them they're doing her nails wrong because "she graduated high school in cosmetology", and demanded 50% off. 
To their credit, the employees ignored her completely and went on with their work. 
Me? I would've left her with those uncut, ridiculously long fake nails glued on and told her to get the hell out. 
Try opening that lime-a-rita now, betch.
There were a couple of times I wanted to intervene and tell her what a hose beast she was being, but this chick looked like she could throw down & had at least 30 pounds on me. So I just watched.
Lesson learned: I should keep one awful person around so I look like gentle & sweet like K. Middleton. 

Today, not being the most horrible person in the room simply meant not insulting an entire race in public. That's something I can handle.  
Just say no, y'all. 
I spent all day writing another post that was seriously just too offensive to publish. 
That's why this one is so late. 
Mabes I'll try to edit the other one into acceptability? Ugh. 

Thursday, May 22, 2014

Thugz Mansion

I'm moving again. On Saturday. It's just the worst. 

I feel like I have moved every single year for a while now. And I feel that way because that's exactly what I've done. Maybe some people don't count all the college moving, but when you're doing it in the sweltering Texas heat, it counts.

(For the love of setting the scene, please play this while you read.)

Freshman year: the crazy, hazy days of Jerome Hall. No pictures exist of this building, as it should be. This place was disgusting and I'm surprised they didn't require a tetanus shot before move-in. So much smoking in the rooms, so much alcohol spilled, so much throw up (I assume…duh). J-Rome should be razed and the ground salted.    
Sophomore year, first half: I don't even want to talk about it. They gave me this little slice of heaven outside of Rome for a few short months, then snatched it back with nary a word. I've spent my time since searching for a way back, all the way from au pair-ing to canon lawyer-ing. No dice. 
Sophomore year, second half - Junior year: Pseudo-fancy. They built me a brand new dorm and couldn't even be bothered to name it for years. (It now goes by "The West Hall", which is an offense to creativity.) We all thought they built this dorm really quickly--a little too quickly--and the amount it moved in high winds proved us correct. 
Senior year: The Littlest Townhouse in Texas. Instead of living in the pit that is Old Mill, I lucked out with a condo across the street. Truth: same conditions, prettier facade. We fancied that townhouse right up, and she became full of sparkle + joy + champagne. (Sidenote: does anyone know what happened to the giant inflatable champagne bottle? #necessary)
Postgrad 1: my Texas-chic urban apt! I loved this place. I paid way too much for it, but I lived in downtown Fort Worth and adored every second of it. We spent a lot of time together, as this is where I lived during unemployment sesh #1. Besties 4 lyfe. 
Postgrad 2: Fab little area, literally across the street from work, and 2 minutes from Em & Jake's place. But I like to make things difficult for myself, so I'm out after less than a year. 

I move home for the summer, and on to Houston in August. This will be the first time in about 6 years that I will (permanently) live outside of the DFW area, which is crazy to think about. I'll probably just listen to this song on repeat while crying. You can expect some pretty poignant side-mirror-as-we-drive-away Insta pics. 
Just like you like it. 

Thursday, May 15, 2014

Started From the Bottom, Now We're One Step Up From the Bottom

Sometimes I wish that my blog would be *discovered*.
(If you're reading that correctly, it's like saying that word with jazz hands.)

Sidenote: I used to wish I would be *discovered*
and I could do something fun and be famous. 
I didn't know what, but I dreamed of it. I've now lowered my expectations
and simply want my blog to be the famous one. Sigh

But every time I even start thinking about putting some effort into this whole
social media-Internets-platform-networking deal
(do you like how geezer-y I sounded there?), 
I rein it in because it just looks like a lot of work. 
And if we all know one thing, it's that I don't like to work -- unemployment joke FTW.

Also there's this:

- I don't (care to) understand copyright laws
I recently saw a mini-rant (from a Catholic mom-blogger, no less)
about someone re-blogging a personal photo that she had put on her blog. 
Essentially, she was wondering if there were any legal avenues of revenge
and how to force the person to credit her for the photo.
This is a thing I should worry about, apparently. 
I get most of my images from The Great Google and then I sometimes manipulate them. 
I literally never credit my sources. 
Luckily, I haven't stolen any images from that lady
because it sounds like she's close to the slashing-tires-jump-you-in-a-back-alley revenge.
Didn't we all learn in, like, 4th grade that things you post on the Internets 
are kind of a free for all?
I like to imagine it as a giant, troll-filled commune. 
It's like how cameras steal your soul; the Internets steal everything but gives to all. 

- I can't afford Photoshop
If there is money left over, it goes to drinks and clothes. 
That is a hard & fast rule.
 Photoshop also just sounds complicated. 
I don't really have the time to learn about it, and blogging is hard enough without having
to create graphics of my own. 
If forced to do so, I would get too caught up in creating pictures and my posts would look something like this:
I didn't have time to write a post, but here's a picture of a cat riding a unicorn.
Nobody wants that. 

- I really appreciate my downtime
People who big-time blog always have something going on. 
I don't have kids for whom I can craft wildly fanciful birthday parties, 
I can't afford to host dinner parties once a week, 
I don't really get invited to chic events all that often (I know, right?! Rude.),
I'm not planning my wedding,  
and I'm not restoring an old Craftsman home. 
I also don't want to do those things right now. 
(Good Lord, now that I see it, how do I even find things to blog about??)
I really really really like my wine-and-Netflix nights.
AKA every night. And some days.

If my blog ever makes it big, it will be through absolutely no effort of my own. 
Thank you and good night. 
*None of these pictures are mine and I would give credit to those people who created them if I cared even a little bit. Please don't sue me, I'm sure we can work something out. I make a mean chocolate chip oatmeal cookie plus I have wine & a Netflix account. If you sue me, I'll counter sue and just make this go on for a really long time, so you're better off taking the cookies and wine and Netflix. Do we have a deal? 

Thursday, May 8, 2014

It's Hard to Be Legit & Still Pay the Rent

My alma mater began its donation drive today. 
I am currently cowering in fear in a cave on an uninhabited island, 
far from any technology by which they could reach me.
In all honesty, I might give. 
Not that I have much moolah to donate. 
If they would just hold off for a few years, 
I will have stacks on stacks all for UD, provided they name a building after me,
or whatever. 
Right now, two years out and three jobs later --
I'm poor. 

If anything, I need to have a donation drive for myself:

« Rent »
Cost of living in Houston is killing me, ironically. 
I thought moving away from D-Bag Dallas could only help a sista out, 
but H-Town is even more expensive
and you get the bonus of an awful crime rate. Fab!
FAFSA needs to send a young, hot millionaire my way STAT. 
(Isn't that where they get their money supply?)

« Law School »
Oh, yeah, that
I may not be paying tuition, 
but those books are no joke. 
No one wants to read that badly. 

« Coffee/Cocaine »
See above, law school

« Shoes »
Lady Justice (that's what I'm calling myself now) needs to look good
How am I supposed to prove myself as an intelligent law student
without a cute wardrobe?

« Puppies »

Thursday, May 1, 2014

Sorry I'm Really Really Not Sorry

I've been praying a lot of rosaries lately to be less judgmental and more gentle
Like a laaaaaaady.
But criticism can be good. 
We live in a world that absolutely hates judgment of any kind, 
which is the definition of ironic. 
There's no such thing as bad anything, nowadays. 
It's just "personal choice". 
Relativism is the bane of my existence and makes me a grumpy, old misanthrope. 

Fear of judgment can force better choices out of people. 
Often, in social situations, I would like to sit in the corner with a box of wine
and the apartment owner's pet; no human interaction, just drunk me & a furry friend. 
But I understand that that would be super weird. 
I am afraid that people would no longer wish to be my friend, 
so I refrain from doing that. 

Some a lot of people deserve judgment. 
Without being made fun of, how will they ever know that their choices are just wrong?
I'm not saying beat up the brony
but a little verbal abuse might teach him to man up. 
You don't hear about the fat guy showing up to his 10 year reunion 
STILL FAT but oh-so-triumphant.
 (Unless he's rich, then it's whatever and can I have his number.)
Am I not allowed to judge Klan members?
(That got a little overdramatic, I apologize. I'll rein it in.)

So, yes, I will be judging people's decisions. 
Notice I said decisions
I concede that the people might be super sweet.
 Girl wearing slutty clothes, watch yourself. 
Adult wearing wings at a music festival, I won't be pulling any punches. 
Kim Kardashian, it's on. 
Someone's gotta inflict some judgment on the world, and
I had to, in honor of the date and the fact that it will be me. 
So maybe I'll change my rosary intention to "grant me wise & proper judgment"
instead of no judgment whatsoever. 
Compromise is key.