Gainful Employment

Stats update: I now have 6 views in New Zealand and 3 in Spain.  Bienvenidos to the mix, ya'll.

For the past month, I've been burning the midnight oil at the office, so I haven't had much time for blogging, doing laundry, buying a hamper (yep, that still hasn't happened), etc.  The other day, my friend Andrea told me she had been watching a lot of Mad Men lately and a certain scene between Freddy Rumsen and Peggy Olsen reminded her of me..  Peggy is dating a guy and she's having trouble balancing work and her relationship.  She tells Freddy that she doesn't want to end up alone and he tells her she should work less.  Andrea then told me that I should work less and make "finding a guy" my new part-time job.  

Well.. right now I only have enough time for my full-time job - which I happen to really enjoy and can only hope will outlast all previous relationships in my dismal dating history - but let's take a minute to ponder what life would be like if I had a part-time job for which my only responsibility was finding a boyfriend.  

Here are a few things I would expense out (which reminds me... who reimburses me exactly?  Maybe the federal government?  So I don't end up a penniless spinster relying on welfare?):

1. Haircuts every other week (rather than every 3 months/whenever something good comes up on Groupon)
2. Manicures/Pedicures (I already mentioned the time I went out with the guy who told me I had calloused feet, right?)
3. A PedEgg (just in case)
4. Cooking/sewing classes (If my "job" is now finding a beau, I'm just assuming the earth un-orbited around the sun about 50 times)
5. Makeup (although while I was applying makeup on the bus this morning, a woman told me I was pretty enough without it.  Then again, she was blowing her nose and then putting her used Kleenexes in the hood of her sweatshirt so she may not be the groomer I'm looking for.  Sidenote: I love riding the bus.)
6. Personal trainer (doubles as a side-boyfriend)
7. All purchases from Victoria's Secret (meow)
8. Charm school (This would be beneficial to my real job too.  I still get to keep that one/maintain a sense of self-worth, right?)
9. A hamper (I'm sneaking this one in on the company tab)
10. Floss, toothpaste, shampoo, razors, soap, deodorant
11. Botox injections in my armpits to prevent underarm sweat altogether
12. The iPhone 5/monthly data plan (worth a try.. if not, I'll settle for the hamper)
13. Vodka/Gin (pre-date liquid courage)
14. Advil/coffee/egg sandwiches (post-date hangover corrective)

*****

Cover letter

To Whom it May Concern:

I am applying for the position of girlfriend and would greatly appreciate the opportunity to spend time with you one-on-one in a social setting.  I am smart, personable, and I always give 110%.  For these reasons, I think I would be the perfect addition to your life.

While I do not have a great deal of girlfriend experience, I am a hard worker and fast learner, and my friends will attest that I am highly proficient in relationships as a whole.  I am well-mannered, kind, and your parents will adore me. 

I am highly motivated and goal-oriented, and I see the position of girlfriend as an opportunity to grow in my career.  I am always thinking toward the future, which I believe would be a real asset to our relationship as you mature over the next few years [aka becoming less interested in getting drunk with your bros and more interested in settling down and procreating].  I think that I could benefit from this partnership, as well, as I develop the commitment skills necessary to advance toward my ultimate goal of wife/life partner.

Thank you in advance for your consideration.  I look forward to hearing from you [not that I'm waiting by my phone for you to call.  I'm not one of those].

Sincerely,

Mariel

*****

See my hypothetical OK Cupid profile for a resumé of sorts.  

References available upon request.  These would include my boss, my roommate Carolyn, and the Kleenex lady from the bus this morning.

Salary requirements: Remembering my birthday, an apartment with a washer/dryer, the iPhone 5, fidelity.  Negotiable.

Holler at me, Deutschland.

Well, once again I have failed to meet my posting-once-a-week pledge but in the meantime, I apparently passed the 1,000 page views mark - I just checked and it's at 1,111.

I used to be am secretly obsessed with checking my blog's stats.  Especially the traffic sources section.  Google searches of both "phil collins hour of power" and "phil collins and the hour of power" have routed people to my little cyber soapbox.  I have a feeling Phil Collins is a televangelist and his hour of power involves twelve apostles rather than sixty shots of beer, but either way, it all boils down to a groovy kind of love, right?  "Paul Schneider" also redirected someone to my site.  I like to think that it was Paul Schneider Googling himself to check out his star meter on IMDB.  Come to think of it, I look at this "stats" tab on my Blogspot homepage as kind of like my pre-IMDB star meter.  Especially because when I write this blog, I pretend as if more than just my brother, a few friends, and my roommate's mom read it.  Oh yeah, I had big plans for this blog.  I was so concerned about protecting my identity that I literally created a separate email address (mostlikelytohavebadhair@gmail.com) to set it up so that there was no way of tracing it to my name.  #7FollowersTotal.  

Oh, here's my favorite Google search stat.  TWO different people have been led to my blog by searching "guy looks like satan."  Did you mean balthazar getty? I know I talked about a guy looking like the baby Satan from Passion of the Christ once, but I have a feeling it just took them right to this picture.

My next favorite tab?  Pageviews by country.  Let's check out where I have been spreading good will across the globe.  You're welcome, America.

I took this picture of my cousin when we were in Berlin.
Most likely to be an ausfahrt.  Am I right, Germany? Eh?

United States: 1,060.

Ireland: 28.  Thanks, Nathan.

Germany: 14.  Danke!  I went to Berlin last year and it was pretty fantastic.  Also, thanks for inventing Advent calendars.  And hot dogs.  You made my childhood.

Denmark: 3.  Thanks, Julie.

Netherlands: 2.  I assume you took your queue from Denmark.

Romania: 2.  To be honest, until junior high I thought you were a made-up country where Bunnicula came from.

United Kingdom: 1.  You speak English, and Germany has 13 on you.  And you call yourself an ally?

Portugal: 1.  Paul Schneider is shooting on location.

Seriously, though, whoever is reading this in Germany, please tell me how you found this blog.  I promise I will cheer for you in the next World Cup.

****

Sidenote to all my loyal followers out there, I have a Lucy-fer update.  My uncle went out of town and asked me to take care of her.  I immediately had visions of her strapping me to the roof of the apartment building, duct taping a lightning rod to my mouth, and then dialing her friend Satan to request he redirect the next tropical storm to the Upper East Side.  I politely declined, explaining that things were busy at work, and apparently the rest of my family did the same, so asked one of his parishioners to take care of her.  I guess Lucy could sense that the woman who volunteered was trying to perform some sort of service for the Church and consequently decided to go into full anti-Christ mode, because evidently the woman called my uncle within the first 24 hours to say that she couldn't handle it, and now my other uncle is taking care of her.

****

Ok, Cupid.. Do Your Worst.

This is who runs my love life.

In my romantic history, I've really picked some winners.  A guy once told me I had calloused feet and short arms.  Once I went on a date with a guy who started sucking my face in the middle of a bar on a Sunday night and when I asked to be taken home, he took me to "hang out" in a desolate park in Sea Cliff, Long Island instead.  I made it out alive and learned my lesson not to go out with guys who are in your phone as "Chris from the Train."  That's what they'll call him on CNN too.

Everyone I know has an OK Cupid profile, but I have been hesitant to join.  Maybe I am as old school as my dad when it comes to the internet but I guess I still associate online dating with the stigma of being desperate, maybe because it reminds me of a former co-worker (she had Lloyd Christmas bangs and sounded like a member of the Addams family) who met her husband (all I remember is a Super Mario brothers moustache) via an online dating site, and she always shared way too much about her middle-aged love life.

Given the fact that my dating life right now is about as eventful as if I walked around wearing a sandwich board reading "I HAVE A BALD SPOT AND GONORRHEA" (only one of those is true), I have entertained the thought of possibly possibly hopping on the OK Cupid bandwagon shame train.

Here is my how I imagine I would construct this hypothetical profile:

First of all, apparently on Ok Cupid you are allowed to feature three pictures.  Choose wisely.  No one really cares about anything else in your profile besides these three pictures.  Let's be real.. Before actually sending you a message, they are going to look long and hard at these to determine whether or not you are at least 80% as attractive as you were four years ago when the best three pictures of your life were taken.  Here are the three I would choose:

Hey guys.  Look who's online.  Right now.

Laying all the cards out on the table.  Also, my face doesn't look awful.  Unlike here...

In case I don't lose the baby weight.. I've given fair warning.

Favorite books: [Honestly?  Harry Potter, anything by Jonathan Safran Foer or Dave Eggers, and.. does TV count as books?  Ughhhh fine, for the purpose of impressing my soul mate? ...]  A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius, Catcher in the Rye, and Atlas Shrugged.  I haven't even read the last two.

Favorite movies: [Lies]

Favorite music: [More lies]

Interests: Ghost hunting, impressing your mom, powerhours

Looking for: Someone normal.  I'll settle for a free dinner.

Not Your Best Work.

Hey, I'm back.

You know that feeling when you get out of the shower and realize you were supposed to shave your legs and you've already dried off and you debate whether it's worth getting back in the shower or just wearing pants again for the next couple of days and ultimately you decide on the pants...?  Well, I've had a draft of a blog sitting around for the past 10 days.  I wear pants often.

I'm scrapping the draft because I re-read it and it was shit.  And my brother told me my last post "wasn't my best work" so the pressure is on.  Apparently I did not quite meet the caliber of writing expected by a kid who literally didn't speak normal English language until he was almost 3 years old.  He sounded like Donnie from the Wild Thornberrys, I kid you not.

So, in order not to disappoint my brother, I will not blog tonight because I'm super tired, but you have my word that tomorrow night, I will return to my former glory.

Here's a video that I re-watched yesterday and it never ceases to make me laugh:

See you on the flip flop.

You Don't Keep a Boyfriend?

So much for my resolution to post at least once a week.  Carolyn and I moved last weekend, though, and I’m currently on vacation with my family, so it’s been a busy 10 days.  In case you were wondering, Boner Killers ended up with the most votes in the poll to name our wireless network.  Here were the final numbers:

500DaysOfWinter: 1

Mirror Sex: 2

League of Extraordinary Powerhours: 5

Bartlet4America: 5

Boner Killers: 7

Desbecvay: 0

Aioli is Just Fancy Mayo: 5

Anticipating our parents visiting and asking which network they could connect to, though, we decided to go with one of the second place winners for obvious reasons.  So, like a pageant queen caught in a Shia LaBeouf sex tape (which he leaked to the press in exchange for Paul Mitchell hair gel), Boner Killers was forced to relinquish her crown to Bartlet4America.  Password: POTUSINABICYCLEACCIDENT. 

Here are some of my favorite moments of moving weekend:

1) This weird letter left in the dresser drawer of the furnished room I had been subleasing:

You were supposed to give them the note, as well.
Don't you respect them at all?

2) The cab driver asking me, “You don’t keep a boyfriend?”  Umm.. it isn’t a spare tire, shithead.  You don’t keep… a job that doesn’t involve cleaning drunk girls’ vomit out of seat belts?  You don’t keep… a firm grasp of the English language?  You don’t keep… the change?  I guess he heard we're boner killers.

3) The laundromat lady asking me if I had a dog.  Nope, I just lose a lot of hair when I'm stressed.  Bitch.  What the hell kind of dog are you talking about?  This one?

4) Walking to my new apartment to meet the Sleepy's guy who was delivering my mattress, turning onto my block, and overhearing a middle-aged woman who looked like a brunette Charo saying, "Oh my gawdddd, you're never going to believe what I just did.  I threw up in the doggie day spa."  I hangover-vommed in the Studebagels back at Notre Dame once.  You win.

5) Ikea instruction manuals

Yep, You're the Worst: Part II.. The Christmas Shoes

Update: I now have 6 followers and 14 votes in my poll!  Is this what being Justin Bieber feels like?  I’m going to resist the urge to compare myself to Kurt Cobain and shave my head.  Shaving my head sounds pretty good right now, though, because according to weather.com we're experiencing "suffocating heat" and, as I’ve mentioned, I don’t have air conditioning.   Summer is the devil's playtime, and I'm the kid to whom he's giving an atomic wedgie in the sandbox.  As it is, I sweat like Ruben Studdard chasing a Mr. Softee truck after a steam bath, so you can imagine how disgusting I am during the months of July and August. 

Additional update: I am experimenting with the Turbie Twist I received in a white elephant gift exchange and wearing it while I type this.  So, um, I look like this:



but minus the makeup, perfectly placed curl, and smile that suggests someone is holding a gun to my back.  Also, my Turbie is white with pink polka dots.

Anyway, my fury with the summer and the fact that I've made a resolution to blog at least once a week has led me to write Part II of Things That Are the Worst, as promised (to view Things That Are the Worst: Part I, click here).  2011 is the summer of the sequel anyway, right? 

Things That are the Worst: Part II

1) When people say that this is "the summer of the sequel." I want to roundhouse you people in the throat, because every summer is the "summer of the sequel."  In fact, every year is the year of the goddamn sequel.  Just because it's alliterative, doesn't make it a good headline.  Nor does it make it true.  Just because I ate eggplant for dinner, doesn't make 2011 the summer of the eggplant.  I eat eggplant all the time.  Congrats, summer, for giving me another reason to hate you.



Did I mention Kirsten Dunst's stupid red hat?



2) The movie Elizabethtown.  Oh man.. this movie was awful.  My friend Kelly let me hang out in her air conditioned apartment while she was at the beach with her family on Saturday, and I wanted to watch a movie I hadn't seen yet.  I happened to have my most recently received Netflix DVD, Catfish, with me so I watched that first and it was AMAZING.  Also, the filmmakers are a smokeshow triumvirate.  Go rent it right now.  Anyway, I still wasn't ready to leave the AC so I sorted through Kelly's DVDs for a movie I hadn't seen yet.  I knew that both Alec Baldwin and Paul Schneider were in Elizabethtown and I have a mad crush on both Jack Donaghy and Mark Brandanaquits so I decided to give it a whirl.  Following Catfish with Elizabethtown was like following a week in Bermuda with a weekend in the Wisconsin Dells.  Disappointment is inevitable.  Also, Alec Baldwin was in it for about 2 seconds and Paul Schneider had mutton chops.  Why was the movie terrible?  Orlando Bloom's American accent.  Kirsten Dunst's southern accent.  Kirsten Dunst's presence.  Susan Sarandon's awkward tap dancing/comedy routine at her husband's memorial service.  The plot.  

It tries to be Garden State and fails harder than a Paula Abdul sobriety test.  I'm not sure that an unpopular shoe design is really a billion dollar mistake.  I think that probably happens all the time, right?  I don't think it earns a cover of Forbes magazine with the headline "Fiasco of the Century" or whatever the hell it said.  I also don't think it merits wanting to kill yourself.  Speaking of which, duct taping a kitchen knife to an excercise bike is the stupidest way to kill yourself.  Even if Judy Greer hadn't called you and interrupted your suicide attempt, Orlando Bloom, it probably wouldn't have worked anyway because your sternum/ribs would have provided enough resistance to shift the knife's position in the duct tape.  Then, you'd probably end up with just one stab in the chest and a mess on your hands.  However, I would have been happy to eat my words had that worked out in the beginning and you saved me an hour and a half of a shit movie.

3) Shoes that look like feet.  And the people who wear them.  Go back to the tree canopy you came from.

4) Recent law school grads.  I was at a bar a couple of weeks ago and met two people who had recently graduated from law school.  When they told me they were lawyers, I said "Oh, that's cool," and should have frozen time to walk over to the bar and put money down on what they were going to say next because I would have made $20 on their response (and promptly spent it on drinks, being the irresponsible bachelors-degree-holder that I am): "Ugh, don't ever go to law school."  For some reason, everyone who went to law school feels the need to tell everyone else to never make the same mistake they did.  Well, no, it wasn't a mistake for them, but it will be for you.  This doesn't apply to adults who are happy making bank, carrying cool briefcases, and saying things like "no further questions" while fantasizing that they're Sam Waterston.  It's just the recent grads who are reveling in a state of self-importance because they put in a few more years at school and now they get to be an "esquire" which kind of sounds like someone in the feudal period who would have had a serf or two doing their bitch work.  Umm.. yeah, you're right.  If going to law school makes you a pretentious dickweed, thanks for the warning.

5) People who change their Facebook status 20 times/day.  I really don't want to have to sift through your constant life updates to find unflattering recently tagged pictures of people I don't like before they untag them.  Time is of the essence.  I hate you even more if your status involves emo song lyrics.  No one feels that many different emotions in one day.  If you do, paint a watercolor about it.  Get off my newsfeed.

6) Smudging/chipping your nail polish right after you thought it was dry.  This obviously just happened.

7) Girls who dress as slutty [fill-in-the-blank] for Halloween.  Ok, I'll admit freshman year of college I wore a slutty Hermione costume purchased from a website that probably also sold nipple clamps and Plan B, but freshman year was a practice round at life.  Puhlease, I didn't even have bangs yet.  Everyone knows you're supposed to get ugly for Halloween.  This year I went to a bar where I'm sure at some point a slutty Sarah Palin was making out with a slutty Chilean miner on top of the bar in exchange for tequila shots out of test tubes, and I was dressed as the Monopoly Man.  You know, ladies, it's hard to compete when you have a monocle, moustache and bushy white eyebrows.  On October 31 every year, can we just agree to level the playing field and alllll be fugly pieces for one night?

8) The "Christmas Shoes" song.  Speaking of holidays... this song is just the worst.  You know, there are just too many Christmas songs about being happy and not enough about people dying of terminal illnesses, right?  WTF.

The video is kind of the worst too.  It looks like it was filmed with a FlipCam in a Bass Pro Shop in Akron, Ohio.  I even hate the way that guy is chewing his gum.  He looks like a high school wrestling coach.  Wait, he's supposed to be the one singing?  I thought a black guy sang this.  Oh shit.. I'm looking up the band to see the lead singer's ethnicity and apparently a movie was made based on this "hit song" and Rob Lowe starred in it.  Wtf, Rob?  Were you on a bad acid trip and hired one of Santa's elves as your manager?  He was probably just a homeless dwarf in the right place at the right time.  For God's sake, you were Sam Seaborne, man.  Anyway, back to the music.

You couldn't find a cuter kid for this video?  His teeth look like they were meant for opening cans of Old Style for his daddy on the front porch while shooting at opossums.  I also find it unsettling to hear this singer's voice behind the kid mouthing the words.  Creepy.  Umm.. that kid totally scammed the high school wrestling coach, by the way.  He threw a handful of pennies on the table ... he was definitely banking on $30 worth of sympathy from the fool behind him in line.  'Tis the season to be a buck-tooth little snot rag apparently. Oh, wow, those are the shoes?  This whole time I imagined a pair of conservative black Pilgrim-ish pumps.  Those shoes look like a carpet bag.  Notice how the kid goes into the hospital and we never actually see his mom meet Jesus.  He's probably selling those to a blind lady for a $10 profit.  Congrats, kid.  You may actually be a worse human being than Balthazar Getty.

I conclude with a letter to summer and all that is terrible in the world:

Reminder: Just one more week to vote in the WiFi-naming poll! 

Speaking of WiFi...

Check out the new poll I've added to my blog!  Inspired by my last blog post - that's right, folks, I drink tiger blood and am inspired by MYSELF - Carolyn and I have a 21-email chain with the subject "Sex Room" going right now with ideas for naming our wireless network.  Not quite as impressive as our 80(!!)-email chain we have between us and our realtor with the subject "Eddie Walsh's cousin" but #thingsthatareawesome nonetheless.  So anyway, here are some of my favorite brainstorming ideas thus far.  Feel free to vote more than once.  Seriously.  I only have 5 followers.