Archive for the ‘job search’ Category

halloween party plans
October 18, 2007

Jane and I have decided to have a Halloween party. Our house looks haunted enough, what with the rickety doors and light fixtures (in Martha Stewart world, disrepair=haunted, am I right?) so we figured why not. I haven’t decided what I’m going as yet but we’ve decided that the theme is “Famous Exes.” Ford and I are brainstorming something delish…

I’ve tried to cool down on the girl front. Well okay, I haven’t tried as much as I haven’t had the energy to put in to stoke the desire fires. I haven’t seen or heard from Alana in a week, and we only just had coffee then. Tennis-player and I have gotten together a few times to take walks, but no sparks have flown, and we haven’t even kissed. I guess work is just taking it out of me.

I really don’t mind waitressing, but I hardly have any energy left for even a love life.


hetero weirdness
October 10, 2007

Ford joined me for a rousing kickboxing class yesterday afternoon, to which he wore a grey athletic t-shirt and navy mesh shorts. If it weren’t for the addition of white knee socks with royal blue stripes up the sides, he actually would have looked decently butch.

Well he took the socks off because he said they were “encumbering his high kicks.” ::eyeroll:: But when we came back from class, Ford in his sweat stained gray shirt with his hair all messy with sweat, smelling like a wrestling team locker room, the pheromones brought Jane out of her bedroom like a cobra out of a basket.

“Ooh, Ford you’re so sweaty,” she said, a hint of sarcasm still thankfully lingering in her voice, but with an edge of something that made me want to squeal under my breath and wave red flags in the air.

“That’s what happens when you sculpt guns like this, Jane,” he shot back back and flexed. There was a bizarre moment of silence while Jane gazed. I banged some pots in the sink to break the sound of Twilight Zone music playing in my ears.

Fast forward ten minutes, and Jane is taunting Ford about his taste for Watermelon Smirnoff Ice. Whew.

I am choosing not to think too hard on that one for the sake of my own sanity.

Also, re: waitressing for the rest of my life–no. I’m looking into doing nursing school during the day. It seems like every other job I see online is for some kind of nursing job. Or I might try to check out some business management classes. Boring, but necessary if I want to move up in this world from the position of customer service wench. Wish a liberal arts degree meant shit in this world.

raucous workplace > creepy workplace
September 27, 2007

Jane got me a job waiting tables at the place where she finally snagged a bar-tending job, that goth-themed indie bar/restaurant where I met Ford, Poe’s. I feel pretty torn about it, since “waitress” was the job title I was looking to shed by spending four freaking years in college. Should have second-guessed that Art History major with a concentration in Female Professors and Amusing Yet Poor Decisions. Still, the owner of Poe’s is a really decent woman, and it beats the pancake place in WVA where I pretty much had to serve drunken frat boys pancakes on my breasts to get tips enough to pay for rent, groceries, and books. Poe’s is a late-night joint with lots of vegetarian options and hipster kids. Jane says they have decent live music. Everywhere has decent live music here–a perk of Nashville.

Needless to say, the interview with the insurance company was a total clusterfuck. When I got there first thing in the morning, the entire staff was in a soundproof board room that I could see through a glass wall. Their heads were all bowed and their hands were clenched. When they started filing out of the room a few minutes later, I noticed that the women were all wearing these hideous ankle-length khaki skirts. Gary, my interviewer and would-be boss, nervously licked his lips as he lead me into his office. He wanted to know how much experience I had in administrative assistance, and I told him none, and he said “None? No experience?” I said, well, I can take a phone message with the best of them. You read my CV online in order to call me in for an interview. He looked down at my wraparound dress and black heels (conservative outfit, I thought), and said, looking over his glasses, “I don’t know where you’ve worked before. But there will be a dress code in this office. Most of our clients are good Christian families.” Wait for it, wait for it. Then I ask him if he will be my boss, and he goes, “Well, I would be your earthly supervisor. Here, we all have the same boss…in Christ.” I slapped a hand over my mouth to keep from laughing, and managed to hold it together until I had just barely stepped out of the office. So waitressing it is. I’d rather deal with some overtly sexual comments and spilt beer than administrative assist at Jesus Creepery, Inc. Remember, he’s watching you, especially when you lead Gary into temptation. Ewww.

My first night on is tonight. And Friday is my big, um, art lesson rendez-vous with The Downstairs Neighbor. And I’m lost on what to wear and what to talk about to such a worldly, beautiful woman.

yeah, we went there
September 25, 2007

There comes a turning point in every really volcanic fight where there is a pregnant pause, and someone utters in an infuriated whisper, “OH, I know you did NOT just go there.” And then you scream your heads off until you’re exhausted and apologetic and even euphoric because you run out the adrenaline rush, like giving birth or running the mile or something. If you didn’t have that post-big-game relief after you let the anger run its course, you’d never forgive anyone. Or, if you didn’t have that euphoria after giving birth, you’d never want to engage in an activity that involved vaginal tearing again. But people do have more than one kid, and they also forgive and forget. Most of the time, if you let it out, by the time you’re finished you’ve forgotten what you were even fighting about at the end and you are oddly filled with love and adoration for that person, and even though fifteen minutes before you wanted a bear to attack them, now you just want to bear hug. I guess it’s an adaptive strategy to keep humans from totally killing each other 24/7. You can go that route, or someone can stomp off and you stay at a steady, slow boil for days. Luckily Jane is not the steady, slow boil type. But she will throw things. At your head.

Alright, we said some pretty nasty things to each other. Here’s a brief recap of the blow-up.

Jane: You’re just afraid of men.

Darcy: You just need approval from anything with a dick. Just like society tells you to.

Jane: And you’re jealous that I have an easier time meeting men than you have meeting women. It’s my house and I get a say in who visits.

Darcy: It’s my house and I get to say no one with a fanged vampire clown tattoo that covers more than half of their back can visit.

Jane: His name is Derrick.

Darcy: Okay, fine, rude Derrick can’t visit.

Jane: That’s fine because that was a mistake anyway. I’m just really stressed out, and I went out for a few drinks at the bar I interviewed at on Sunday, and you know… I didn’t have sex with him but we did make out and pass out. When I woke up I had no idea where I was. <We both start sobbing here> This sounds pathetic but…I miss college.

Darcy: Come here.

::Bear hugs and head patting::

We decided to invite Ford over for dinner tomorrow and see if he wants to bring one of his non-sketchy friends. Who I hope also will not be deathly boring.

Also, I have an interview with an INSURANCE COMPANY TOMORROW! I was hoping the all-caps would make it look exciting at least…


job search= terror
September 21, 2007

Job searching totally sux and freaks me out. I’ve sent out about fifty bazillion emails with my resume attached in three days, and filled out about fifty thousand more applications online.

I’ve been on the computer all day and my hair is up in a dirty messy bun and I’m wearing my yoga pants and this ratty old t-shirt of my brother’s that says Boy Scout Jamboree ’93: Keep Smiling. WHICH I SWORE I WOULD THROW OUT WHEN I MOVED.

I guess progress isn’t always linear. That’s it. I’m heating up another veggie corn dog. My approach to not smoking right now has been to make sure my mouth is full at all times with a veggie corndog or four.