Dirty Little Secret

I hate when my boyfriend sprays Fabreeze in the restroom after he, well, you know, does the dirty #2 deed. eeeeeew. I put the Fabreeze in there specifically for that purpose but who knew the combination of "fresh linen" and toxic poo would smell like the shit hit the fan. Pardon my pun.

I never would have guessed that combo would result in such a horribly grotesque essence not to mention it makes it completely obvious what just went down in the bathroom. And then I got to thinking about white lies. They are purposely placed where something stinky is about to ensue. Its the can of convenience that was meant to cover up the ugly truth but does it really hide the stench? Are white lies just like my Fabreeze? Does covering up the truth just make it all the more obvious?

Life At The City Pool

It’s in the hot lazy days of summer that I find myself venturing out to the ol’ city pool. I pack my towel, my eco-friendly reusable water bottle and some SPF 6 and elect to leave my pride at home. Despite my pathetic attempts at the swan dive I never say no to the diving board. It’s the pedestal of beauty on a high-temperature afternoon, the Mecca I simply cannot resist. I can pencil-dive while plugging my nose and work on those tan lines to my hearts content all for a mere $3 admission fee.

There is a momentary Sandlot feel to the city pool that brings a calming sense of nostalgia. Where this sensation comes from I have no idea. I was never an extra in the movie, heck; my childhood town didn’t even have a community pool! But no matter what body of water you find yourself in you will likely run into the usual suspects as represented in that timeless flick. The gang of mangy boys within an inch of hitting puberty, the giggling teeny boppers reapplying tanning lotions and potions every 10 minutes, the lifeguard that is impossible to impress and the odd duck who is frantically saving bugs that kamikaze into the deceiving waters…from past experience that maniac life-saver is usually me.

Its funny I get the sense that all is right in the world when I am surrounded by these clichés. It’s a therapy of sorts I suppose. The clichés assure me that everything is OK because it’s just like what happens in the movies. That’s the warped reality I find myself living. Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to perfect my cannon ball.

If Barbie Could Do It...

I have just formally applied to my own job. As I described earlier my employer majorly messed up when they hired me and so I have to be rehired. Which in-turn means I must apply. For my own job. It was rather comical reading the job description as it mirrored what I do each day at work...oh yes thats right, IT IS EXACTLY what I do each day at work! I'll be honest it was kind of flattering that I was the inspiration behind the job description. Almost like being the Mono Lisa but in a much less romantic and lead-free paint kind of way. Did I mention the canvas comes in the form of a internet post?

A little scary too that I had to apply online. Applying online means that the position was opened up (and likely announced on all jobbing sites) to the whole internet universe! EEP! I would literally be blown away if anyone matched up with the job description as perfectly as I did. It would even more so blow my mind if they got the job instead of me. It would be like someone describing a person exactly correct right down to the odd-shaped freckle on their left elbow and then *BAM* deciding it was actually someone else who fit the description better. That would never happen...but then again, I should know better. I mean, I am applying to get my own job back, in what world is that normal?

I am going to pull a "Confident Career Barbie" on this one and say I will definitely get the position/my position back. Barbie would never be phased by this pesky dilemma and nor should I. If I know Barbie as well as my childhood memories allow, Barbie wouldn't fret! Barbie would just resort to one of her back-up careers as a veterinarian or soccer coach or doctor or princess or international pilot or chef. Its nice to see she has so many career alternatives. Hmm...I better buy myself an apron and a spatula...just in case.

Job Dating

Work life was going great! I couldn't ask for anything more except maybe a more comfortable desk chair. Flash forward:Enter H-R




*Crowd boos*



I suppose I can't place all my bitterness upon HR. It was in fact my sleuth detective work that found me in my own predicament. My temporary employee status coupled with benefits, retirement plans and time-slips just wasn't adding up. In all honesty, I only ventured over to HR to collect more information because I REALLLLLY wanted to take courses for $5...a treat reserved only for "REAL" employees. Since I was on a time-slip, apparently I didn't count. Why then was I getting bene's and 401K offers but no sick days, vacation or cheap education? It just didn't make sense. I decided to investigate. What I found was a lot of confusion from anyone I spoke to...either I am a very poor communicator or these people seriously couldn't decipher what my actual question was and/or how to answer it. And then-- the light bulb moment--A HUGE mix-up between H-R, state policy and what my department thought they could do with me.

Blah, blah I will skip the boring state policy details (oh government) and get straight to the point: My employer has to rehire me, BUT, due to the hiring freeze I must be hired under "emergency circumstance" which HR is taking their sweet time deciding if I am worth the hype and worth a continued position. Basically, Friday is my last day and then I play the game where I sit by the phone hoping they'll call. Hmm...this feels oddly like a post-good-date-I-hope-he-liked-me-too ritual than an employment exercise.

Employment is much like dating when it boils down to it: At first your nervous, make small talk, feel each other out. Then you get down to the nitty gritty-your past achievements and future goals. You both decide its a good match and BAM...you're in a relationship. YAY! You're excited, show up early, coordinate cute outfits to impress, its perfect! Fast forward a few months and the pay off just isn't worth it anymore. You've lost interest, your eyes start to wander...and before you know it you're either fired, dumped or take it upon yourself to quit. On to the next one be it man, woman or job. If only we could treat either scenario as simply.

The main point of this rant is to say, yes, I may be out of a job-relationship come Friday BUT my eyes have wandered to new opportunities and I have proven to myself that I am a survivor. You can't ask for a better self-confidence boost than that! BOO-YA current job!!...even though I still have feelings for you and, yes, I would take you back if you would have me.

You know in those psychology courses where your professor rambles on about a "fight or flight" personality? And that only the "fighters" survive...definitely a Darwin-esque theory. Honestly, I always took myself for a "flight" kinda gal. Come Armageddon or Aliens taking over my city or even a relatively small snow-storm...I'm done for. Giving up. Goodbye. I guess I was wrong. Apparently when tough times such as unemployment come around--I'm the first to get in the ring to fight it! This comes to me as a shock for which I still mentally categorize myself as a "flight-er".

As a prelude to my unemployment I've submitted applications for two local businesses currently hiring. Just to be safe. Just in case. To say I tried. To my surprise, BOTH called me back AND set-up interviews. I can't help but be completely satisfied with myself, OK well at least with my resume creating skills, especially in these hard times! It really proves all the hard work I've put in over the years in various jobs does pay off. It also reminds me that while I may be getting dumped by my current job relationship...I still have options.

Officially old enough to give advice....great.

In an effort to generate some good-Karma vibes, I answered a request for help and prepared a little contribution for the Daily Evergreen Newspaper at W-S-U. The paper had asked for contributions from fellow students and Cougar Alumni on advice they would pass down to incoming students (a.k.a. Freshman). I happily prepared my column and sent it in hoping to "make the cut" and get another personal publication in another little paper. Turns out they liked my piece and they liked it a lot! The Editor even wrote to say it was one of the better contributions with a "good voice" and a "fresh take". Now, I know this paper isn't the New York Times by any means, but always nice to get a little confidence booster from THEE editor! Enjoy!

Congrats!

You’ve made it past the land of curfews and dance chaperones! Now that you’re an official Coug, it’s time for some survival guidelines.

First things first: DO NOT wear any form of University of Washington apparel. You will get booed and be publicly humiliated in front of your peers.

Prepare to develop “Cougar Calves”. W-S-U was built on a series of rolling hills and you will hike up these hills all day. Until you earn “Cougar Calf Immunity” your legs will feel like that questionable noodle dish they served in your high school cafeteria. Power-naps are essential to combat this intense leg training. Also, you likely won’t get the opportunity to nap again until you’re about 65…so stock up.

It’s ok if you don’t know what you want to major in. And it’s ok to change your major. Regardless of the salary or job title, or what your parents want you to major in, find something you love, and do that. Talk to your professors. These people are amazing mentors, and most of them are cool with you calling them by their first name.

Procrastination does not work for everyone. I once wrote a 20-page paper in five hours the morning it was due so I really can’t advise much on the matter; but I will tell you cramming all night for an exam does not work. Get sleep. P.S. I got an A- on that paper…but after a good nights rest.

Stock up on warm clothes. I can’t describe to you how impossibly cold it gets here during the winter. Invest in some boots- no, not Uggs, I mean REAL boots- with traction. I am proud to say, thanks to my Napoleon Dynamite-esque boots, I never fell on the ice-ridden sidewalks of W-S-U. You will probably fall at least once. Brace yourself.

You have access to a ton of FREE or nearly free opportunities; use these resources to your advantage. Join a student group, rent movies from the library, seek help from tutors, take the bus, workout or swim at the rec center. Not everybody is so lucky to have these amenities within reach.

Take a lot of pictures but don’t tag yourself in ALL of them. You never know who is creeping on your Facebook profile. Do not attempt to use a fake i.d.. The bar bouncers and cashiers know what’s up. You will get caught. Wait until your 21st birthday to go to bar…it’s worth the wait!

If you choose to engage in the party scene, BE CAREFUL! But know this: Busch Light is the preferred beer of W-S-U. If you’re a dude, always have a five-dollar bill handy. This is the standard cost to attend a party and it generally guarantees you one can of 11-cent beer. A five-dollar bill will also get you a taxi ride home from just about anywhere in Pullman. BYOB is a must. You may notice individuals walking around with backpacks well after school hours; I can assure you most of them are not heading to the library. Learn from these people. Multipurpose your backpack and use it to carry your celebration supplies. Ladies, may I suggest a big purse?

If you eat at the CUB prepare for a long line at Starbucks, Panda Express and Subway. If you’re in a rush, grab something to-go and eat in class. Yes, you can eat in class! *GASP* If you have extra time The Coug has amazing burgers! It’s a bar but minors are allowed to be there until 9pm. *BONUS* You will sound like a badass when you tell your old high-school friends you were at the bar! Late night dining? Don’t trust Jack-In-The-Box. They are not really open 24-hours so plan your appetite accordingly. Dissmore’s, however, IS open 24-hours.



Don’t be afraid to ask for directions, help or advice. We’re all Cougs and we’re all willing to help out however we can. Be courteous to everybody. You’d be surprised at what a small world it is, you will run into these people later in life. Final note: These really are the best years of your life and there’s no better way to spend them than as a COUG!

The Facebook Holy Grail

Update on Facebook drama: She's unblocked me. *Gasp* A "friend-request" is still up for grabs but hey, baby steps! Props to her for baby steps.

Drama Expired

Just enough time for a quick fill-in session of what happened with the Playboy drama and then moving on to greener pastures! Deal?

Where to begin...how about just the highlights? I am really anxious to put this life saga behind me--though nervous about what lies ahead in life! EEK! I guess there's no stopping this party train called Life.

OK so blah, blah, blah you read about me basically feeling irate at my family for their reaction. Mom called me an embarrassment and said Playboy is a form of prostitution so therefore I would be a prostitute if I posed for Playboy. Dad drove five hours to my apartment, got a speeding ticket to boot(now that's dedication!) to convince me to not pose.


And my step mom? Well, she promptly BLOCKED me on Facebook. Not only delete me off her friends list, as I could understand in a moment of rage...but BLOCKED?? And two months later I am still blocked?? Get real. She writes me about my immaturity in all of this but hello? I'm glad she resorted to the old-fashioned middle school action to block me.

I tossed and turned, flipped and flopped, did everything basically but make a decision until the very last second. Yes, I waited until the day before my flight was to ship me off to the glitz and glam of Chicago to DENY Playboy. Am I wrong to be a little proud of myself that my family really didn't have the final say in my decision? I mean yes, I listened to their reasoning and anger and embarrassment over the issue- but ultimately- it was Playboy itself that turned me off. Kind of like Romeo and Juliet in a weird obscure way-- I'm sure if everyone had left them alone to live happily-ever-after they would have eventually decided they really weren't right for one another and parted ways. No damage done.

Long story short- though I gather by now you've realized I tend to venture off in conversation...I denied Playboy because they offered me not nearly as much compensation as I had envisioned. And frankly, I'd feel cheap when someone asks how much I got paid for Playboy and my answer was a dismal amount. Not worth it. I know Playboy means more to me than just a small paycheck but, I do need to respect my worth...especially when I know how much the publication will make off my photo.


Everything worked out with Mom and Dad- we're all cool. Still no word from step-mom. My Dad left a voicemail that I should check-in with her because she was asking about me but pfff...that's not my deal. If she wonders about me, she is more than welcome to contact me. I will not be crawling back to her with apologies or flowers or I'm sorry I ruffled your feathers emails...I certainly do not expect the same from her as she is always above that but I'm tired of making the move. Of being the bigger person. Of setting aside MY dignity to keep her thinking she was right all along.

WHEW--- Finally on to green pastures!!! Yahoo! Warm weather has just arrived. I have a job. I have loads of Costco food in my cupboards and a fat lazy cat. Life is good---but I'm sure I'll find something to complain about.