I Understand Your Frustration, Ma'am.

Working in Account Services (retention) makes me apologize. A lot. Now, I'm told that I'm a great communicator. In my month or so on the phones, I've never had a customer request a manager or supervisor. As my supervisor would say, "It's because I don't have any stink on my voice". I'm assuming that means attitude. I really don't have any of that. In fact, I'm told that I'm too nice.

To maintain my job without getting in trouble, I'm supposed to "save" 45% of my customers. Right now my rate is at 40%. The problem is I care too much. I feel that the customer is telling me the truth. Why would they be lying about what happened in their life? Your life is terrible. You called the right person. I'll track my manager down and get your Early Termination Fee waived.

Now that is the wrong first thought. I'm supposed to look at what I see on the computer and feel no mercy. Customers lie. Often. I was cussed out for 30 minutes by a woman yesterday who sounded like satan. As she yelled, her voice became all guttural and creepy. I did not enjoy it. All over internet service.

While I'm not keeping the most customers for my company, most of them leave with a much better taste in their mouth about this company and may come back. I could say that all day, but I'm still 5% down from acceptable, let alone 7% from getting bonuses.

So for the first time in my life, I'm learning how to be mean. It seems so backward in customer service, but I have to begin to process that I work for a business, not the customer and do what's best for the company.

This continues to solidify the fact that I need to not work in this kind of customer service. I need to be somewhere that really is about your actual experience.

A place like, oh, Disney World. :)

Lunch Time

Twixter Two and I have a clever little work time ritual that involves treating our business emails like instant messenger - desperate to talk to someone from outside our tiny cubicles during the 9-5 work day. But right around noon every day the subject inevitably swings to the same subject: soup.

Okay, not soup - but lunch time. Unfortunately for us, lately lunch time = soup. Yesterday she had potato. I had chicken noodle. Last week it was split pea. and tomato. We’re both so sick of soup.

Today I branched out a bit and rummaged through the cupboard to find some Uncle Ben’s microwaveable Rice Pilaf. hmmm. Well, at least it’s not soup. it’s rice.

Soup and Rice are the foundations of my lunch time diet. Our office keeps a fridge and pantry stocked with easy lunch time necessities - but that largely comes down to soup, rice, or sandwiches. I’ve had a dislike for sandwiches every since Jr. High days - after eating sandwiches for lunch for 12-years of my life, I just can’t stomach turkey on wheat anymore. So again, that leaves me soup. and rice. soup and rice.

It starts to get old after a while, but I just can’t bring myself to bring valuable groceries from home, when there is free food sitting right in the office fridge. But I hate the food we have in the fridge. Too often the meager offerings of the company fridge send me out to get fast food. But this month The Boss has been in town - which means no lunch break for me. (But consequentially no wasteful spending on fast food. There’s an upside to everything.) So instead, I get to eat soup. and rice. soup and rice.

I’m really starting to dislike soup and rice.

Of Generation HP

Recently, one of my unattainalbe life dreams actually became an attainable dream.

They announced the opening date of the Wizarding World of Harry Potter theme park in Universal Studios Florida.

I consider myself of the Generation Harry Potter (HP). When the first HP book released, I was 11 years old, just like Harry Potter. For the books 1-3, I aged and experienced the same (general) life confusions as my fictional counterparts. And as the books spanned farther apart in release, the age and maturity of Harry Potter and friends matched mine.

I actually grew up with Harry Potter.

I felt like the world that he lived in could be my own. I could be a witch. I could study with Hermione for endless hours in the library. I could meander the ground and visit Hagrid's cabin during free periods. I also, could see myself absolutly loving Dumbledore and all his wisdom. My mother embraced the series whole heartedly, even against the fear of her children reading about wizards and witchcraft. It was the first book that Brother read on his own. He was the kid that hated reading and had attention issues. But he could sit on the floor of my room (with the only CD player upstairs) reading along with the books on tape for hours on end. It made him understand the power of reading and the world it creates.

When they started filming the movies, Harry Potter became real. The sets existed, somewhere in the world. Things I had only imagined in my mind were there, looking EXACTLY like they did in the books. I wanted to see the sets so bad. I didn't. Of course. As a young, normal person in the world, there was no way.

But now, oh now. They built the Wizarding World of Harry Potter. I can actually go there. I can see the Hogwarts Express, billowing smoke ready to take new students to be sorted.

So, as nerdy as this post is, I will probably cry the first time I set foot on the park. It will be the world I dreamed about for 10 years literally alive before my eyes.

Wow. I am a nerd. But at least I'm not alone.

Poor and Post-Grad

Throughout college I would often refer to myself as “the poor college student,” bemoaning my measly 20-hour a week student salary. While I certainly wasn’t out buying designer jeans and cosmos every night, I had a very limited idea of what it meant to be poor. My apartment was covered by student loans and Mum & Dad were always there if the grocery fund ran low.

But still, I was a college student living in my own naiveté world and incredibly eager to receive that FIRST full time paycheck. I’d spent 2-3 months every summer working 40-hours a week in Vegas, and just imagined what possibilities would arise when that paycheck would raise and be deposited year-round.

But then I moved to LA. and LA is EXPENSIVE. My rent eats up almost half of my paycheck. I’d never written that big of a check until the day we signed our lease - heck, I’d never even had that much in my checking account!

But, with my biggest expense out of the way, I was sure the rest of the money would cushion the bottom of my bank account - I was working full-time now, nothing to worry about at all. But slowly that money slipped further and further away until I was left with an empty bank account and a credit card bill at the end of every month.

At first I just thought that I was horrible at managing my money. It was time for a budget. So I signed up for mint.com and became an instant fan. It made it so easy to set out a budget, and even easier to see if I was keeping to that budget. I may have gone a little overboard, logging every last purchase down to the $2 cash I spent on slurpees at 7-11. But after just a couple of months, I was keeping religiously to my budget.

Months and months of budgeting, and I only saved around $100 a month. That was barely enough to cover my finance fees.

So I took it to the finance blogs. In case you haven’t heard we’re in a recession and everyone has advice on how to save money. “Cut your luxuries!” they say. “Understand the definition of necessity!” they cry. Here’s the top 5 pieces of brilliant advice I’ve found over and over again:

• A gym membership is not a necessity, and should be cut.
  (Well there’s a total $0 I found from my free runs out at the Rosebowl.)

• Stop eating out - it could save you thousands!
  (I read as I stare at my 4th bowl of plain pasta this week.)
  


• Use coupons (check!)

• Buy generic (check!)

• Only buy what you need (check! check! check!)

I have yet to find one piece of advice that I wasn’t already doing. The fact is, I’m living as frugally as I can in sunny Southern California.

On my 50th finance blog, it was finally time to face reality:

I am one of those poor unfortunate assistants.

In fact, according to Hollywood University I am on the lowest of the low paid assistants. So low in fact, that I’m not sure if my salary is listed on this site.

In Hollywood, you have a choice to make. Live boring or Live poor. So many of my friends eat Top Ramen every night and live in a 2-bedroom with 4 other girls. Their credit card is always at the limit, but they live well. Drinks every night with the co-workers, and they look ever so “Hollywood glam” every morning at the office.

I’m on the other end of the spectrum. I have fresh veggies in my fridge, and am currently curled up in my single bedroom. I am chipping away at my credit card bill bit by bit - every drink I turn down is another $10 towards financial freedom. I haven’t been shopping in almost 6-months, and am anxiously awaiting for the must see movies to hit Red Box.

So what about you? Are you living boring, or living poor? or If you’re in LA - any ideas for living “the LA life” for free?

As If The World Couldn't Get Sadder...

Seriously? What is the world coming to?

One of the blogs I follow(mashable.com)updated this morning about a new dating site called Gamecrush.com. (Check out the original story here )

Here's the rundown on GameCrush: Gaming boys (or girls) sign up online and set up dates where they play games on their XBOX 360 or online computer games with the opposite sex. These dates last 10 minutes and the Gamer looking for love pays with points that are purchased with REAL MONEY. These points are paid as well as they are supposed to tip their "date" with whatever other points they have. Here's the kicker: the "date" can then redeem those points for cash.

This is a glamorized nerdy version of a phone sex line for nerds. W. T. F.

I mean, I get it. Nerdy guys sometimes have problems finding girls
who understand them, let alone want to play video games with them. But
resorting to paying for an online gaming date? I just can't even begin to
express how sad this is.

As a nerdy girl myself, I understand it can be difficult to find
someone who shares those traits with you. But there are people out
there!

Go on dates within your Guild members before paying for a date with some
random girl online.

I'll never understand this.

Rebel

The most rebellious thing I’ve ever done is pierce my nose.

My father swore that if I were to ever A) dye my hair black and/or B) pierce my nose, that was the end of me. The phrase “Not under my roof” was uttered more than once.

Almost exactly to one month after I was no longer under his roof I made a spontaneous decision while shopping in Pasadena with a girlfriend to pierce my nose.

Of course, spontaneous is somewhat a relative term. I’ve wanted to get my nose pierced since I was a sophomore in college, and came pretty close once or twice when I lived abroad in London (but somehow the sketch of Camden market always scared me away.)

However, that day in September my girlfriend and I were supposed to be shopping for work appropriate clothes, and I walked out with a nose stud. Luckily, I work in the entertainment industry and no one gives a second glance to things like piercings and tattoos. (I actually had to point the change out to both The Boss and Mrs Boss, who thought I had gotten my hair cut instead.)

Nevertheless, my parents don’t work, live or think about the entertainment industry, and I was frightened beyond all belief of revealing the big secret to them. I was your uber suck-up good kid in High School. The most rebellious thing I did was stay at church until after 10:00 pm on a school night. (Yes, I was that kid who got grounded from church, on more than one occasion.)

I’ve never seen the point in disrespecting your parents. It made sense to me why I shouldn’t drink, do drugs or sleep around. and while my mother and I got into some pretty Olympic screaming matches in High School, it usually had to do with me wanting to grow up. (Ha - memo to High School Twixter One: DONT RUSH.)

But everyone reaches a point when they need a little rebellion in their lives. So mine was a nose piercing, which I was certain my parentals would hate. I dreaded with excitement the moment that they would finally realize my deed. Planned out how I would reveal it, and perfected my arguement of why I shouldn’t be shunned.

But when I finally made the big reveal, it was no big deal. My mom said it looked cute. My dad just rolled his eyes. Pretty anti-climactic for the most rebellious thing I’ve ever done in my life. Maybe it's time I experiment with a little black dye.

Thanks, But No Thanks.

So, I had an interesting week at my job here at the call center.

First, I was offered to produce (with zero budget mind you) a training video encompassing all the different departments of the company. It’s going to be cheesy, very corporate and I’m in love with the project. There’s a new kid in the training class (who is a d-bag who thinks he's God's gift to broadcasting,but working in a call center) who has all the equipment I’d need. He’s a broadcast major who’s very excited to help/take over the entire project. Ehem.

THEN after that, my trainer, whom we shall call Trainer (I’m creative, I know), approached me and asked me if I was good at Excel. Let me give a little back story on young Twixter Two. I was the child, where at age 9, created an Excel document of my Christmas wish list. I included graphs breaking up my gifts by cost brackets, what stores they were from and level of desire.

I’m completely serious.

But after that, all I’ve know is above the average person about excel. I can fix basic problems and create general formulas.

So I told Trainer that I was good at Excel. I am, above the average Joe. So I had a meeting with the big boss on campus, whom we shall call Bundles. Well, Bundles offered me Friday, “a loan”. What this loan means is while my pay and title remain the same, I am on loan to Bundles to help with the corporate Excel documents. Highly classified information about the company, including performance reports, etc. Well, Bundles wanted me to repackage the information into different graphs and formulas. And learn a technique called VLOOKUP.

Now I accepted the position. I was dazzled. I’m brand new to this company, only starting out on February 1st. To be offered something like this is unreal. It was implied that if I stayed and showed the stuff I was doing had some value, it would become an actual management position.

Then I went home. Husband helped un-dazzle me of the excitement of getting offer a kind-of-promotion. And I spent 2 hours trying to learn VLOOKUP. I had no idea what it was talking about. I’m a fast learner, but I researched VLOOKUP on 5 different Excel sites and still could not figure it out. This was a problem, since that was going to be my main formula. Then I had some questions. I’m not getting a raise, but I have more responsibility: would my title change? What can I write down on my résumé? If I change my hours, will that affect this?

After all the questions rolled around in my head, and the lack of Excel knowledge, on top of the fact that Husband and I are moving in less than 6 months, why would I take this position? For 1, it’s way over my head. For 2, it’s not very beneficial to a company to train someone for a promotional job when they’re going to be leaving. For 3, I was scared out of my mind I would suck completely at it.

So I talked to Bundles this morning and was very honest. It had nothing to do with her, just the fact that if it were my company, I wouldn’t want me to take the position. Bundles was very surprised by my honesty. Not many people would sacrifice getting off the phones in a call center life.

Little does she know I just didn’t want to give up my bonuses. (Bwahahahaha).

Reunited and It Feels Soo Good!

I had a scary revelation yesterday:

I am slowly inching up on the one-year anniversary of my undergraduate graduation.

That’s scary.

So often in this blog Twixter Two and I bemoan the loss of our carefree college days. While college had it’s ups and downs, there is no way to look back on it without calling it “the best years of our lives.” But we had to grow up and leave our comfy college towns, and thats when real life began.

Last weekend I had a chance to escape real life, if only just for a couple days. The Best came down for a spontaneous visit from Nor Cal and for the first time since graduation, the old crew was together again.

The weekend kicked off with grabbing pizza and beer on Friday night and everything fell comfortably into place. (and even though I hate beer, The Director as usual managed to trick me into finishing at least half a glass. - like I said, back to normal.) After a late night finished off at the boys apartment (the latest I’ve had since graduation) we spent a beautiful Saturday with wine and baguettes in the park and it couldn’t have been more perfect.

It’s weekends like these that make me miss college, and at times seriously consider returning. True, I could do without the tests, the homework and the endless all nighters. But the stress and the frustration of being a full time college student are easily looked over after graduation when you have those kind of memories to look back on.

A lot of people can survive this college to real life transition because they never leave their college town. They find an apartment driving distance from campus and still gather together for LOST marathons with the group every week.

Sadly, my friends were all too adventurous - while one or two stayed near campus, most of us scattered just far enough away to make spontaneous drop-bys impossible. I’m excited for and proud of each member of our group - everyone is going for their goals straight out of college. But it does make my nights and weekends pretty lonely. What I would do to have everyone living in the same complex again - to have someone to borrow a cup of flour from (and consequentially have a flour flight with) or to be free enough to have a spontaneous sing-along in the courtyard.

Adult life and a 40-hour work week can get pretty lonely. It’s even more lonely when you’ve moved to a new town. The free time I was so anxious for in college isn’t always worth it when there is no one close to spend that free time with. While yes, I have made new friends and have had some wonderful post-college experiences, there is nothing that can replace my college friends. They’re family.

Family Matters

I am the first child of four. Besides me there is my almost 20-year-old brother, my almost (ohdeargodohno) 16-year-old sister, and the baby of the bunch (at 6) living at home with my parents in Las Vegas.

Of those four, I am clearly the first to move away from home - but at the moment I am also the only one to be out of state as well. My brother was oh-so-lucky that the state university had a kick-ass program for his major and used his Nevada funded scholarship money with pride - and remained in town.

At the moment, that makes me the odd one of the bunch, living 4-hours away from my entire family. (and I mean ENTIRE as all my grandparents, aunts, and uncles live a driving distance away from each other in LV).

To some degree, I quite like it - it gave me the chance to be truly independent in a sink or swim kind of mentality. I get to keep my own schedule, and maintain my own apartment without the fear of an unexpected parental drop by.

But there are some weeks, like this week, where 4-hours might as well be 20.

My brother and sister and I haven’t always gotten along. We all went through that period as we made our way through Jr. High and High School where each of us thought the others were miserable human beings. But somehow over the last year things have changed.

Suddenly I’m getting phone calls from both The Golfer (brother) and The Teenager (sister) begging me “Sissy help me!” from across the state lines.

Sometimes it’s the “Mum is driving me nutts - and you’re the only one that understands!!!” call - to which I patiently listen and remember to later apologize to my mother for when I went through those years.

At other times it’s heartbreak, a desperate plea of “I think I’m going to lose them...” where my heart just breaks and all I want to do is hold them, however so awkwardly. (as both The Golfer and The Teenager tower over my 5’ 2“ frame.)

After so many years of screaming “I HATE YOU” at the top of my lungs to a slammed door, why now when I’m 300 miles away do I actually like my family?

There are some days I want nothing more than to grab coffee with The Golfer on a break between work, or take The Teenager out shopping. My Dad has promised me first ride on the lake tube this summer, and yet I don’t even know when that will be. And all of that’s not even touching on how often I desperately need a Mum date - just her and I and hours of conversation.

I think for me, this is the hardest strand of Twixterdom to break. I am ready to pay my own bills, to work a full time job, to clean my own apartment and manage my own schedule. But I was never the kid who wanted to pick up and move away from Mom & Dad, only to call on Christmas and birthdays. My family is THE most important thing in my life , and yet I have to watch them from afar as my job and life demand that I live in LA.

So what do you think? Does anyone have any advice on how to be a big sister from 300 miles away? Or should I just keep praying that the Maglev will one day become a reality?

Not Exactly My Kind of Holiday

Exactly 5 years ago today, I ended a 6 month boy fast my senior year of high school. I write that again for those who don’t know me. My senior year of high school, I went on a no boy/flirting fast for 6 months to learn exactly who I am. It was seriously one of the best times in my life. So every year since then, I’ve tried to make every St. Patrick’s Day special.

This year started with an emotional breakdown.

Now, I’m not one to be very emotional. Like I’ve said in earlier blogs, even typing this now, I’m mildly regretting writing it. But alas, I will persevere.

I woke up this morning and just felt overwhelmed. Like everything in the entire world I was worried about was on the forefront of my mind. Then I got a text message from my favorite teacher of time (who happens to be my academic advisor, the officiant at my wedding, and stand-in grandpa since mine passed away). All he said was that he missed me and wished I could be TA-ing his class this year.

I just started bawling. I seriously couldn’t stop. I couldn’t get ready for work; nothing could make me feel better. I feel so bad for Husband. There was nothing he could do but just lay with me.

All my thoughts just kept spiraling. What if I don’t want to move to Florida? What if I want to move back to California? When am I going to finish school? What if I don’t get hired at Disney? What if this apartment doesn’t help make me happier in this stupid city? Can I really make it 5 more months here before I go nuts?

I’m apologizing now. I hate writing blogs like this. I always feel so “whoa-is-me! I-have-a-full-time-job-a-place-to-live-and-an-amazing-family but wah wah wah”.

But this is my blog entry. So whatevs.

I ended up being 3 hours late to work. Not a normal occurrence for me as I am a very on time person.

So even now at work, I feel on edge. Like someone is going to say something to me and I’m just going to start crying. There are very few things I hate more than crying in public. One would be wetting my pants. That’s seriously how much I hate crying in front of people.

So now I’m avoiding everyone like the plague and just counting down the hours until 2:30 when I can escape to the safety and solitude of my car.

Hopefully I can make it 2 more hours.

Not exactly the type of memory I like to have for St. Patrick’s Day. But I guess they can’t always be fun.

The Need to Move

[Editors Note: This blog was written and slated to run today, long before Twixter Two made her exciting announcement below. Slightly ironic, don’t you think?]

6-months ago, all my blog posts were raving about my new apartment that was prepped and ready for me to move into. I was so excited.

Now that we’re six months in to a year-long lease, the excitement has worn off. Don’t get me wrong, it’s a fabulous apartment. We got a stellar deal (paying nearly $800 less than our neighbors in fact) but I’m beginning to realize it’s a stellar deal on an apartment that may be too much for me to handle. This apartment would have been MY DREAM when I was in college – as a two story town house each person has their own little hole to curl up into when they need to study, with the downstairs completely open for hanging out and partying. But I’ve soon come to realize that my post college life doesn’t entail as many midnight marathons of Bones as college did. Furthermore, my roommate is rarely ever home – leaving a huge kitchen, dining room and living room downstairs open as I wander from room to room wondering why its so quiet. Even when she is there, she’s usually holed up in her own room making barely any noise. (Unless of course it’s 4 am and she bursts into my room to tell me about the earthquake that just happened - the earthquake that consequently didn’t wake me up. *yawn*)

So I made the mistake of surfing through Craigslist postings, only to find apartment after apartment that I’m falling in love with – for almost $200 cheaper a month than what I’m paying now. It’s unhealthy for me to continue to look when I’m so far off from my lease ending, but I can’t help it. I want a new place, new roommate, new outlook – already.

I’m used to college living. The longest I’ve ever stayed in one place was 9-months, and most of the time roommates lasted a maximum of 4-months before we annoyed the heck out of each other and someone moved out. It’s normal for the itch to start hitting me now, at the 6-month mark it was already time to buddy up for next years roommate assignments.

But why am I looking if I’m not necessarily “unhappy?” The only real fault to my apartment is the fact that I’m 6-months older and decades wiser and know that I could seriously cut my costs and find something much more manageable. Otherwise my apartment is cute, it’s clean and comfy, and my roommate pays her rent each month. Of course, I’d love to find a roommate whose schedule lines up more with mine (I’m dying for need of some serious college style Gilmore Girls marathons stat) and I’m realizing the value and savings of living in a tight but comfy place.

When I first started this blog, I prided myself on shaking at least one tenet of Twixerdom and settling into my own apartment, lease and all - and had plans to stay.

Hmm, well - Okay, maybe I’m not so rid of the Twixter after all

A Place To Call My Own

Life changing event!

Well my Twixter friends, Husband and I are so so close to getting OUR
first apartment!!!

You have no idea how exciting it will be for us to have an apartment.
It's just a cute 1 bedroom near where Husband graduated from high
school. And the other huge bonus, is we're subleasing for exactly the
amount of time until we wanted to move to Florida.

And on top of that, it's only $550 a month. (Sorry Twixter One. I
know that's hurtful).

Husband and I have been living with Sister-In-Law for several months
now. We've been staying in the spare bedroom with a futon on the
floor. Not exactly ideal, but it's free and we're poor. So when we
started looking for apartments in our budget range, they were pretty
much all in not the greatest places in the Las Vegas Valley. But it
was a sacrifice we were willing to make.

But then, out of the glorious Craig's List, we found a subleased
apartment for the same price as the ghetto for a really nice
neighborhood. It's so close to my work and a lot closer to any
friends we have in town.

I feel like an adult. This apartment will be the first place that
Husband and I have that's ours. We lived in a rental room at our
university and then when we studied abroad, we lived with rented
furniture and rented dishes. It wasn't OURS. Now this place will
have all our furniture and Giles as well! (After we pay the
exorbitant $500 pet deposit).

As much as I don't want to grow up, I can't wait to have a place to
call my own. Even if it's just for 5 months.

So now all we're waiting for is the weird guy we're subleasing from to
pay the apartment what he owes and fill out some paperwork, and then
it's ours! We move in April 1st.

This is going to be the longest 2.5 weeks of my life.

Giles the Pee-Meister

So fun fact of the day: Giles is on a peeing spree.

Giles is my cat. Let me tell you about him. Prior to getting
married, I lived for a couple of months with my besties crashing on
their bedroom floor to save money. During that time, while moving my
stuff from the dorms into the garage, I heard a small meow. A kitten
meow. So I searched around. The detached garage faces a cinder block
wall with dumpsters against it. When the dumpsters get moved, they
slam into the brick wall and make holes.

So we found Giles hidden in a hole in the cinder block wall. Meowing
his little head off for someone to help him. Mind you, this all
happened around 11 pm. So after calling in the boys to help get him
out, we ended up spending 2 1/2 hours making the fist size hole an
arm's length hole with a hammer. After that battle, we got him out.
And he was the cutest cat I've ever seen.

Look at that face....

Mind you I just remembered now that he peed on my lap on the car ride
over to walmart to get him a litter box and food. It was a sign....

So we hid Giles in Husband's dorm room for a few months, hid him in
our college apartment, got caught. Then had a lovely lady we found on
Craig's list watch him while we studied abroad. She even got his
shots and neutering free. She was seriously a miracle. After we
moved to Vegas, we had to give him to someone else to watch until
Nephew was healthy enough to have a cat around. All of that time
totaling about 5 months without him. We have been fighting to keep
him from the get go.

Now don't get me wrong, Giles is a love. He will snuggle likie it's
no one's business and even sit on the book you're reading if he wants
some love. But then 10 mins later he will be running in circles
around the room, getting scared by his own tail. He has more
personality than even some people I know. He's such a character.

Well, I almost murdered him last night.

He started to pee on the blanket i was laying under. Literally at my
feet he tried to pee. (Granted his litter box was a little dirty. I
rectified that immediately).

And the jeans I wanted to wear this morning? Peed on. On top of my
leather Rainbow brand flip flop. I didn't have time to clean the this
morning as I was running late, but if that flip flop forever smells
like cat piss....

So now we don't know what to do. Do we keep this cat that obviously
needs some more attention and just get him anohter cat to keep him
company? What if the other cat learns the same bad habits and they
both pee around the apartment? I don't want to loose my $300 pet
deposit because my cat won't use his litter box.

Or do we find him a home? I mean, Giles is a shit, but I love him so
much. He sleeps next to me every night and makes me so happy whenever
I see him. He's our baby.

Except when he pisses on my stuff.

ALAS, what do I do?

Memories

The other day I stopped by CVS to pick up a couple of photos from one-hour photo. My photo printer stopped working about 4-months ago, and now simply exists as an at-home flight check-in kiosk. and then only when it likes me.

However, I was struck with a very old memory. I remember the days when as a kid, I would go with Mum to Costco. The first thing to the right of the massive garage doors was the photo center. We would rush to the photo stacks and eagerly wait for Mum to turn the gigantic cart down an empty isle and rip open the packaging.

We’d stand on our tip toes as we waited to see which pictures were there. Half of the pictures were blurry, and occasionally Mum would lecture me on why I thought taking a picture of a brick was a good idea. (What can I say, I had a weird photographic eye even at that age.) But we’d ooh and aah over the photos of us as a family, right there in the isle of Costco.

Fast Forward 15-odd years to today. Where my baby sister doesn’t even pause after the shutter goes off, immediately begging “let me see! let me see!” (by the way, The Baby just turned 6!!! Happy Birthday munchkins!) Bad pictures are instantaneously deleted, and there’s plenty of room for pictures of bricks and leaves and my baby sisters dolls.

But the other day at CVS I tossed my photo order into the cart, and walked out of the store without even glancing at them until they went in the mail to my grandmother. She’s 103 and doesn’t own a computer, so we still hand write letters and mail her pictures. (Although, I’m sure if we gave her a chance she’d master the computer and be on facebook in no time. She is super woman after all.)

I’m all about the technological advances we’ve had and love the fact that as I’ve travelled the world my family can travel with me via the world wide web. But there are moments when I miss those days, crowded around a shopping cart - waiting as a family to see what memories were made and captured forever on one incredibly special photograph.

The Coveted Eclipse Trailer

Now, as aforementioned, I'm a fan girl. I love the Twilight Saga. Thusly, I have been (im)patiently awaiting any sort of footage from the newest film in the series, Eclipse.

It arrived yesterday at 6 am. I tried, like a good employee, to watch it on my phone so I wouldn't get in trouble. I tried 3 times. Thank you MyTouch for claiming the video "could not be played". Bullshivic!

Now, as youtube.com is blocked at my work, I studiously opened hulu.com, which is not blocked and prayed it would be there. Obviously it was. And I watched.

My initial thought was.... "That's it?"

Eclipse is my favorite book in the series. I have very high expectations for this film, especially with David Slade manning the director wheel and the high standards set by New Moon. While I didn't see 30 Days of Night, I trust his vision for horror, fighting, and drama due to his previous experience.

But the trailer was angsty flashes of each character looking tormented. Seriously. Watch it again and you'll see. It jumps from Edward telling Bella about the consequences of her choices, Jacob (who has the best line EVER by the way) of saying he'll fight for Bella until her heart stops beating, the Volturi looking mean, to Bella saying she's found us.....

Angsty.....

Now don't get me wrong. It looks beautiful. From the flashes of the meadow to the emotions on their faces, it's stunning. But this trailer was for the fangirls. It was the love triangle trailer.

Where was the fighting? Where's the fear? I just didn't feel it yet. Or see it for that matter.

I'll wait though. I know the next trailer will be more fleshed out. Some of the fight scenes are probably still being worked on digitally anyway. Notice how little CG was in the trailer. Yup. They're waiting.

Which is fine. I guess...

Sigh.

Officially Californian

I have a confession to make.

Although I’ve been living in LA for the last 11 months, I’ve been sneaking around The Valley still driving on my Nevada plates and wielding my Nevada drivers license.

The state of California gives you exactly 10 days from the point of entry into California to switch your registration and residency. It’s a very clear cut law. However, when you’ve been living in the state for the last 4-years under the guise of out of state college student, pin pointing your date of entry gets a little tricky.

At least thats what I argued as I shlepped my stuff up to LA from Orange County and was far too overwhelmed to get everything switched over. Just let me get settled, find an official residence (rather than couch crashing) and then I would make it “Official.”

Well, it didn’t take too long for me to realize that registering my new-used car in California was going to cost me exceedingly more than to register in Nevada. Damn state taxes. So I made the road trip (twice) out to NV, and once again became an official Nevada resident. from California.

This back and forth has continued on and off for the last couple of months, constantly finding another excuse for why now wasn’t the time to switch. Of the 16 cars in my apartment’s underground garage, over half of them have out of state plates - I was in good company.

Well, with taxes looming towards me I realized it was finally time to make it official when daunted with the task of figuring out which residency to declare on the forms. So off I went: 20 minutes later (AAA for car registration) and 2 hours later (DMV for my drivers license) I am proud to announce - I am Officially a California resident.

Being a California resident comes with it’s down sides. My car is so much more difficult to find now in the parking lot when my Nevada plates don’t stick out like a sore thumb. and, After having a decent looking drivers license picture in Nevada, my California license just screams bad hair day. and of course, there’s those three hated little words: State Income Tax.

But all in all, it’s refreshing to finally have the final check mark placed in my “Moving to California” to do list. I no longer have to glance nervously as a cop car pulls behind me as I pull out of my complex (“no really officer, I’m just here as a college student / visiting my sister / where am I again?”) Bartenders no longer look at me strangely as they inspect my ID with vigor, because a Nevada ID means I must be under age.

So like it or not, Mum & Dad, looks like I’m in California to stay - at least for a little while. I think I’ll like it here. Although, I will say, it is disappointing that I can no longer get away with swerving down streets like an idiot, only to pass it off as “Whatever, they probably just think I’m a tourist.”

Part Time vs Full Time

Ah the glorious full time job.

Now many covet this position, especially in this economy. I consider myself to be one of the lucky few who have a full time job right now. Even Husband only has 1.5 part time jobs. (The .5 is an on call position that he's not fully hired into yet. Long story). But needless to say, I'm fully employed 40 hours a week plus benefits.

Now you'd think this $12 an hour 40 hour a week job would allow me to pay off all my bills in a snap right? WRONG!

I just keep finding myself stuck in a rut paying off my stupidity in college. I think it should be illegal to have a credit card in college. Ok, I guess I don't. I survived my unemployed times (thus putting myself in my current situation) with credit cards. It was so exciting, opening it up, getting cool designs, acting like it was free money, TOTALLY planning on paying it off right away.

Riiiiiiiight.

I didn't. I paid minimum and more minimum constantly. Everytime I would get some extra income, "something would come up" that I had to pay for instead. Probably the Chipotle Tuesdays or something. As they say, hindsight is 20/20. Oh I see clearly now. Crystal.

Now Husband and I are budgeting out 700 every paycheck, again I say, every paycheck so we can move to Florida in 5 months. It seems unreasonable, but working full time actually allows this. (Having 2 incomes really helps as well). Which is the WEIRDEST feeling. I was used to making $350 every two weeks. Now my paychecks are over $800. I have never known what making over $1000 a month feels like. It's pret-ty nice.

So now, that I can see the amazing power of budgeting, it makes me want all of my past debt gone this instant. I want to move to Florida completely debt free. This is really not possible. There are pertinent costs that keep popping up: oil change for my car, registration for my car, medicine here, work uniforms there, that just keep adding up.

I know that it takes patience and dedication to pay off debt.

I'm just really freaking impatient.

I'm baaack

Sorry for the break everyone, but I’m back and up and running – though a little worse for the wear.

The last week and a half I’ve been in Nashville, TN on a business trip – the very first of it’s kind. I actually had a whole stack of entries prepped and ready to fill in the time that I wouldn’t be writing, and then I was hit with a massive cold. February was the month of sickness as I’ve been in and out of bed with one malady after another. However, the worst of it hit the day before I left for my trip, which left me barely hanging on for life as I teetered around the convention center in heels with tissues and cough drops poking out of every crevice that could hold them.

Luckily I’m back in sunny California, though the cough and nasty fever blisters still manage to hold on. Though, not enough to keep me from writing like I’m supposed to – I promise.

So, I planned on returning from my business trip with a kick ass blog all about business trips. But I’m coming up dry.

The truth is, for the large part, it was boring. Almost too boring to blog about.

However, I did learn one very important thing on this trip:

I HATE business trips. I spent 5-days straight stuck inside a convention hall, and I only ever breathed fresh air once. Business hours weren’t 9-5, but whenever and wherever people could find us. And they found us - back to back meetings from dawn to dusk.

The Boss goes on a business trip once if not twice a week – he’s always traveling and for a while I envied him as he was boarding planes and I was stuck behind my metal desk in LA. But by the time I returned from my trip I was so worn out, so exhausted, and SO tired of dealing with clients I didn’t want to work for another two weeks. To pick up and repeat with another trip week after week would be a terror.

I wish I had more exciting tales to tell you from the road but the trip was an endless succession of meetings until I finally collapsed on my cousin’s couch in Nolensville ready for a couple of days of R&R with my family. That was the main perk of my Southern business trip – a chance to catch up with family that I haven’t seen in a couple of years. 4 days of sleeping in, watching movies, and lounging around my aunts beautiful home in Franklin, and nights of good food and company with the family.

While the tail end of the trip did give me a nice dose of family, I have to say, it’s nice to be back home in LA.