everyone weigh in

Do we even need to go here?

Odd Occurances AND...

Mustang Sally...

There was a post there somewhere but i won't resurrect it. something about this guy compulsively cleaning his car for 20 minutes while parked under a jacaranda tree which does nothing but drip purple flowers... i thought, you should move your car guy if you don't want to have your car dirtied. wow. good post eh. i'm sorry i lost it.

sigh.

so it's warm out and i'm going to wander around the garden. we've got a few 6-packs to plant (i love beer trees) but they're not all grown up and ready yet. we've got another hummingbird nest and a mockingbird nest...

things i've done/need to do:

applied for one 10wk logging gig
looked for sandals fruitlessly (3 places)
did not find a new handsfree for phone
drove off despair (2x) mainly for phone, a dash for joblessness
develop film
sleep
wander around
more jobs?
finish book
start book
paint room
ate cereal
drank water
got dressed
woke up
currently: listening to radio, oddly enough again: redhotchilipeppers: UndertheBridge.
currently: barefoot, without sandals
currently: applying lip balm
...

cur·mud·geon

Pronunciation: (")k&r-'m&-j&n
Function: noun
Etymology: origin unknown
1 archaic: MISER
2: a crusty, ill-tempered, and usually old man
3: an indication of what i'll become when older

I was confronted with this more hostile side of my personality on Saturday. The scene: my window wide open. The clock ticking to 10:07pm. Mother and I sitting over a cup of tea and madelienes, a gentle breeze, the warm night air. SHATTERED, When a horrific noise wrenched our ears- the sound of a very loud, vibratiing base, rattling our windows- with a dj playing the latest dance,r/b and rap hits. The whirling red lights of hell piercing our eyes. A flock of birds gave cry and flew into the air away from this hellmouths sound. The earth shook. We looked at each other and knew what we had to do.

Call the police. Mom has the police station dispatch on speeddial, and knowing their response time would be in one hour we called without hesitation. We thought, dear God the colony's parents must be out of town- to license such debauchery. I looked over the fence to see the merry spawns of satan arrive one by one, the amps stacked high for no reason- all outside. I thought, I know we're in the ghetto. I know we're on the north side of the tracks. But why for the love of God and all that's holy does this party have to erupt out of nowhere and ruin our still, quiet evening. Why do people think that having a party outside at that decmial level in a sub-urban-area would be acceptable, besides the occassional rapid fire weapon? What made these demonic forces assemble and move in next door to wage their unholy war upon our gentle persons?

At 11, after a growing sense of foreboding I heard the sweet relief of the volume being notched down and breathed a momentary sigh of peace as I donned my bedcap and pulled the bedsheets about me. I thought, why God?, do they not think this an acceptable level- a sort of level that doesn't make your ears bleed or your teeth chatter. But then as I heard the dj say something about the 'cops' and not stopping I reached with my feebled hand toward the phone and dialed the police. As I hung up, knowing there would be no rest for another hour I began to curse Omar and his fucking birthday. Fucking Omar and his fucking Birthday. I began to dream of Molotov cocktails being hurtled into their backyard like flashing beacons of the resistance, of learning how to cut the power in peoples houses... to, to, to... and then the police came again- now stretching into the midnight hours, and then the dj said something about no-one being allowed to come or go- so do not call your friends, he said. And my eyes flashed in delirium as i tossed and turned stacking pillow upon pillow, wondering how to barracade the window and stop the sound- and my hand again reached for the phone. This time I yanked the covers from me and went to take some Benedryl and have a bite of hawaiin BBQ. The dispatch could hear the music from my kitchen, I bemoaned- they will-not-stop!And lo at 12:45 the police again came and people began to flee the party, hopping into my yard to avoid the police, and the girls screeching out into the street... they dispersed into the night and a peaceful sleep reigned at 1:30am. And I, champion of the neigborhood, to let not this place go into the ghetto gentle goodnight- but that we should rage, rage against the dying of the light.

so, seriously?

What is everyone doing this weekend, specifically Monday. I feel like we need to do...something? Suggestions, ideas?

xoxo,

Penelope the Socially Un-Coordinated

p.s. I'm broke.

every once in awhile

I take an okay picture.

The Wedding is OFF

dear guests and well-wishers of me, i regret to inform you that all my dreams are not coming true. that they are in fact being dashed upon the rocky shores of disillusion. further i will have to now ask for all the money back- i was going to give you, spend on you... like for socks and wall-paint, bcs i am now again in massive credit card debt and will not be able to pay it all off like I hoped. or go to nicaragua. people assure me that i may get another job and that it's probably better this way but we still have the inevitable fact that i no longer have a job and have to give the ring back and cancel all my to do lists. thank you all so much for your generosity and support... i'm sorry we had to go thru any of this. and if my ass-hole ex had been clearer in the beginning and not a two-faced liar i'm sure none of this wouldve happened to begin with. feel free to read an outline of the horrific and banal string of events that i'm sure will leave you horrifyingly confused. just as it did me.


The Job Description: We need an assistant whose going to be doing a whole bunch of different things. It's a made up position. We really had to fight the network on it because it doesn't fit into any of the usual production categories. You'll be helping us to write blogs, write letters, do photography of the final projects. Keep up promotional companies, maintain the production books, keep up with press...things that we would be doing but just don't have time. Are you okay with doing a whole bunch of different things? yes. I think that'll be fun and cool. I actually prefer to have a variety of activities. (on helping them) It's okay, i'm used to dealing with actors. - oh we're not that bad- you're not going to get us our coffee or anything. okay.(thank god i don't have to deal with actors.)

Week 1- They show up to work in their pajamas. We watch Judge Judy. We go for walks. Life is grand. They seem to be fun. I'm getting situated with everything. There's not much to do. They say something about adding people to my/space for promos. We go to Target and I watch them pick out make-up and facial cleansers. The first day I was late bcs of the license plate incident. I'm about 5 minutes late-2 of the 5 days. They say, we know there's not much to do but we want you to get acclimated and get comfortable with things so that when things start to get busy you'll know what's what.

Week 2- I write really good letters to promotional companies. I write really good blogs. I feel, yes, this is great. I love doing this. I am still reluctant to add people to my space. I still can't quite manage to get there on time- still 5-8 minutes late on 2 of the 5 days. Am i late for anything? No. When I get to work do I sit down and immediately get to a stack of papers I have to do? No. We go to Ikea and walk around looking at furniture but don't buy anything. They give me Friday off to add people to my space and do internet research and to write 3-4 blogs. Having the weekend I don't do it till Sunday.

Week 3- the art department coordinator also starts- I am no longer helping them to write projects. Their office is now down the hall. I now have even less to do. Jobs given to me are things like, print labels and get that sticky stuff off the notebooks. I am a half hour late bcs of the rain. (Oh, that's okay. NO PROBLEM, they say) They ask me to do a Staples run (I'm not a PA. I think, why am I doing runs?) There are too many people in line. I leave early the next day and go to staples. The meeting where the notebooks will be handed out and not used was suppose to start anywhere from 11-12. it starts without warning at 11:08. the notebooks aren't ready. But the other producer isn't there till 12. I hurry to finish labeling the notebooks so they can hurry up and not be used. I sit in the meeting for 2 hours doing nothing. They send me to do something. I think the meeting is over. I have lunch at 330. I start diligently adding people to MySPACE. Knowing that I haven't been doing enough of it. Horace becomes an asshole. I think something is up... yes, johann i did see this coming.

4:50pm Thursday: (the last 10minutes of MurderSheWrote) they ask to have a 'word' with me. I bring in one of the notebooks- so luckily i have a prop to put all my energy into. It's orange. The rag i was wiping it down with was white.

(Mimi speaking) Okay, we don't think it's working out. We'd like to see if we could move you to a different department. (keep in mind i know exactly what they can afford and which positions are available) of course, it wouldn't be up to us (you mean, you as the executive producers??) that would be jo's call but we think she likes you. we really like you, we really do. We think you're great. Like art department. We think you're so strong creatively that you'd be better there. (nods from horace) You're just not a good assistant. I mean it's bred in some people and it's not in you. (says horace.) So today is going to be your last day. I mean, we'll pay you through the week. (thanks) I mean I know we wanted someone creative but... (more nods from horace)

Here come the charges:
Mimi-You didn't bring a notebook to ikea. (horace is especially appauled at this) You actually at one point said, Mimi, i think you should write that down. (uh, if she didn't i wouldve, really.)

Horace-You brought a book to work and had it on the desk, I mean when I worked I would NEVER! *Gasp* (apparently they have no appreciation of Trollope.) I mean i don't know if you were, well whatever, but still. And you do WAY too much personal stuff on the computer.

Mimi- Yah to be honest I think you're doing it too much to- I mean I know I told you could have the Tv or radio on BUT...

Mimi- I mean there were other red flags: You didn't add people to MySPace until Sunday. I was WATCHING. And that's really important. I asked you if you had the internet research and you didn't (I say, I have it on my computer- no answer). And I asked you to write 4 blogs and you wrote three. (I say, you told me to write 3-4.) Yes but when i say 3-4 i mean SIX! and you did the BARE MINIMUM. (okay Stan) And you went to Staples in the morning and not that night. (I did go. but i had to go back)

Horace- Well what if the same things were still wrong. Then what?!

Mimi: And all we had you do was complete these notebooks and they weren't even ready on time. (i did spend quite a bit of time getting the sticky stuff off the binding) I mean such a simple task and you didn't even get that done- Why weren't they ready. And really the straw that broke the camel's back for me was the notebooks. I mean you left the meeting. I can't believe you didn't come back. I had to answer for that, when they said, where'd your assistant go? I mean, we're the TOP. We're thee EXECUTIVE PRODUCERS. Like, where did you go? We have so much going on in our minds, like, we need someone who has our back and is going to be there for us. And get us our waters and make sure we're getting stuff done. You probably don't even know when our column is due. It's really important and you probably don't even know when it's due (I look at her steadily and I say: the 30th) (Silence. Crickets. Yah, way to hang yourself on that one.) Well and anyway you're always LATE.

Horace: Yah, I mean 30 minutes. 30 minutes late. (oh that time when it freakishly rained in LA and i was in traffic for an hour? oh, yah i guess that's true.)

Mimi: I mean to be honest we love you. WE THINK you're great. But you actually may be just TOO SMART for this job. You probably are TOO SMART for this job. So do you think you'd be interested in going into art department?

Uh... but well, given how you think of me...
Mimi: well lateness. Jo won't put up with lateness. so you can't be late. and you say you won't be late but you've been constantly LATE. . . but either way you'll here from us. (horace: from one of us)

me: okay so can you just cut me my check then and i'll go.

OH_ and i almost forgot to tell you the most horrible part. I was about to turn and leave their living room where Mimi had been sitting on the couch and turning to face me over it, where horace was leaning- just hating me and not saying anything... and then she got up and made me hug her. That's the most upsetting thing. I mean I wrote it just now and I almost teared up and vomited bile into my mouth. Aw, Okay we still LOVE YOU. As she comes toward me with a sweet sad smile. And then of course bcs Mimi hugged me Horace was forced to... and it was like a shive in my kidneys. I walked down the hall and the check had already been cut and folded in a half very tightly- with a crease down the middle. I didn't make eyecontact as I took everything off my desk, forgetting my frozen dinner in the fridge. . .and walking up the fucking steps and being blown away and sad and laughing. like this is FUCKING UNBELIEVABLE> i mean what the fuck is it about me and my 'luck' that makes things like this fucking inevitable.

Here's the thing- thru this entire accolade of charges my mouth was hanging open and my eyes were wide. I was slightly aghast and ready to get very emotional. But mainly amazed. I said all the usual things, like communication problem? Why didn't they say something the first week? Wasn't there anything positive? They did admit that the first week was good, there was one or 2 days in the 2nd week that was positive and then of course the third week--To which they said, you're just not an assistant and we had to give it a trial period. To which I said, but you've basically given me all these secret tests to which I failed. Well if you were an assistant you wouldn't have failed. That's what they said. I shook my head and said, basically i was on this path and you were on this one- I didn't know you wanted a producer's assistant/executive assistant- that wasn't the job title. That wasn't in the description. To which they barely acknowledged that they could've mislead me as to their intentions or to my position. I said, you hired me to take pictures, write blogs... to which they said, BUT BUT BUT... And you're always LATE. I said, do you really want to try and find another position for me because you're so utterly displeased with me. I don't get it. Like if I'd known that's what the position... blah blah blah.

I go back through the days and to the exact pinpoint of every DAMNING INCIDENT and I think what would I have done differently? I guess I would've treated it all as "important" opposed to waiting for my actual job to begin. But the ultimate reality is that I wouldn't have taken the job. I don't apply for jobs like these precisely because of situations like these. I am not an ass-kisser. As Pen says, I don't play the game. I told them in the beginning that i was calm, and it didn't mean that I didn't care. That i was getting stuff done but i'm not frantic. I remember actually specifically saying this. I guess they weren't listening. SO back to the drawing board. I just have to think in the back of my mind that all of these traumas are leading to a bestseller or a breakdown. Like one of these days i'm just going to snap. How much I don't belong in that world or any job world for that matter and how much I really can't assimilate and how much the world is filled with people just like them_ who smile and laugh but inside are very very ugly. But here, let's hug. We still love you. And when you leave we're going to laugh and make caddy snide remarks- and roll your eyes and think oh my god, and she actually brought a book to work that one day. can you BUH-lieve that!

assorted habits to (gently) advise the baby against

1. Attempting to loosen or cut with one's teeth, such as knots, clothing tags, shrinkwrap.
2. Leaving one, two, but especially three car spaces between one's car and the one ahead at stop lights, for no good reason.
3. Majoring in the humanities.
4. Paying for a tan in any capacity, such as tanning bed time, spray tanning like in that store the kids are running on The Real World: Key West, and self-tanning lotions at the drugstore.
5. Making bad faces that will stick should a person clap you on the back, just in case that is actually true.

I expect no results, but will have said my piece.

FIRED!

more on THIS LATER...

Horace and Mimi

And so it begins...

You know how i said that thing about the thing being almost too good to be true. Wait, did I? well that thing that i've been doing for the last specified period of time- it's happened- the first occurance to what my gut has been telling me. oh wait, besides the constant close-minded anti-christian sentiment, granted mainly about fundamentalists, but still. Bit-chez. In the back of my mind behind all the love-fest is something dark and not nice. Mindgames. Gossip. Namecalling. Caddy gay-boys. What-have-you. Everyone has been all nice, and love, and sarcasm, relaxed, casual, sweet and welcoming. So today I take my 'MurderSheWrote' break and was on the phone-perhaps longer than work appropriate. But do keep in mind that for the last 3 days I've sat for hours at a time with nothing to do and that never seemed to bother them before. And if we're going to take JdgeJudy breaks then and have a problem w/me on the phone -then- someone is setting unclear boundaries. In walked Horace. (I caught previous, the back look as he walked down the hallway, that seemed to say, U-h, my god. Is she sssstill on the phon-.) He proceeds to come back with 'something', being as loud as possible as he wrenched open storage lids, moved the contents... after about 45 seconds of the racket I tell my friend I have to go. I say, Horace, do you need some help? He mutters, something about Mimi and Jo needing assistance- vaguely- which I know isn't true and then I say, well I can finish up that letter for you- he again mutters that, sure yah, i can start it... but that he's in no particular hurry about it and that he doesn't even know if i should send it... right. motivator. thanks. in the backofmymind i'm thinking- whatAhbitch. if i replay the event i turn to horace and say, Horace? Are we being passive aggressive? Do you have a problem with me being on the phone?... But do I say it? No. And thus is planted my first anti-horace trigger. And i'm sad about it, as i look into his dark and dreamy lashes... wishing in all that's positive that perhaps i'm reading too much into it.

The thing about these 2 beautiful people is, they're inherently self-absorbed. Which I get. You have to be. It's your show. Your image. Your money... and on and on. I said when interviewed that I was used to dealing with actors and they insisted at the time that they weren't THAT bad, but now I'm not so sure, and I don't blame them for sugar-coating it- but so it goes that behind the comradarie, and the fun and the 'playing' around is a very steep cliff with dark pointy things at the bottom. Because after all, people in this position won't let you 'be'... and must in everyway assert their alpha dog position- that you must sit, and stay, and roll-over and play dead- otherwise they'll feel that you're taking the job for granted, that you're milking the system... and on and on until you start counting down the calendar days thinking, it's not that bad. check by check. debt break by debt break. and then secretly hoping and fearing it's as finite as you'd thought- 10months, 11months- then freefall.

this was at 4:37. i then did 10 minutes of non-work, work. and the rest was sat staring into space, watching my bubbles burst- and figuring out a way to not believe in tinkerbell. it took all my energy to walk down the hall to say goodbye and up the steps to keep from thinking of all the ways in which i've ever been fired, and wondering if i'd walk away from something i thought i wanted so badly. Worst-case-scenario of- course.

give me an H

give me an A
give me an R
give me an
O
L
D
!

Go HAROLD! May you beat Tiffani, the so-called "changed one" (ha), to a tasty gourmet pulp tonight in the final Vegas-based "Top Chef" Showdown, and ultimately
reign supreme.

I love TV. Have I mentioned?

Oh, and I guess I'd like Taylor to win "AI," too. If I have to choose.