Day 2

Day 2 of my unemployment....it was nice to get to spend an entire weekend with my husband, even if I didn't quite feel like myself. I guess I never realized how much my job (not particularly this last one, but a job in general) anchors me. I just feel like I am free falling and have no idea if there is a net at the bottom to break my fall. So while I am so relieved to be out of that job and away from the whole situation, I feel lost knowing that tomorrow is Monday and I will still be sitting here while the rest of the world heads off to work. It is totally my plan to make finding a job my new full time job but it is not the same and doesn't earn a paycheck. And the nagging question that keeps popping into my head is: How will I afford purses now???!!!! That is such a scary thought. I mean screw bills, what about a new bag for spring???!!!

My job is usually my sanity and what keeps me occupied for at least 8 hours a day. I am not a great housekeeper as I am more motivated for online shopping (well, any type of shopping really) than to do the dishes, I don't do yard work as that is something I'd rather pay somebody to do (actually I feel that same way about housework) and I would rather buy new clothes than wash the ones I currently own. I know that all sounds ridiculous and shallow but I have always been that way and you either love me or hate me. I really was destined to be a wealthy princess but obviously there was some mix up at the hospital when I was born since I have never been wealthy and my family never bent to my demands to be referred to only as Princess Jenn. In other words supreme laziness when it comes to chores and my desire for power shopping at every waking moment (I do see it as a competitive sport) are not helpful so besides being a necessity for just being able to have a middle class life, having a job is what also helps me just do something/anything productive. If I have a place I have to be, I will be there and ready to do the bidding of some upper management figure but without that (or an endless supply of money), I will just sit on the couch and watch my ass grow.

So starting tomorrow all my focus will be on getting a job. And while my ass may grow in this process (since a lot of it will take place on this sofa, with this laptop), I know that it will all lead to something that will save me from myself and provide me with stability and a paycheck once more.

And then that purse I have my eye on will be mine!

Sometimes Karma Repays You Quickly.....

The train wreck quit her job tonight....HA HA HA! Guess her big "if you're quitting, I'm staying" mocking/mantra only lasted a day!

"I'm quitting" "I'm staying if you're leaving" "I'm quitting" All within 24 hours. I think all parents will recognize this as the classic signs of a temper tantrum commonly seen with 3 year olds. Except the 3 year old is 22 and has an authority complex. Man, that job really was like babysitting!

Today my Life Starts Anew,,,,

So maybe not completely anew but I did tell my job to fuck off. After listening to one of my employees fabricate an entire story and know that today was my boss' last day, who happened to be the only person who was completely aware of all of the issues going on in my shop, I resigned (effective immediately). It was in the form of a message left on the regional manager's voicemail saying that I would not be back due to all the SHIT I have had to put up with over the last year. And then I got to answer the phone when said employee (whom shall always be referred to as Super Snatch for the rest of my lifetime because that is truly what she is) called me and I got to tell her to FUCK OFF, STUPID BITCH, NEVER CALL ME AGAIN!! since by that time I had already called and quit. I would wish her to be hit by a rather large vehicle but just having to be her pathetic ass has to be hell enough as it is, I mean her own mother-in-law-to-be (well if she could pressure her suitor into marrying her, so far her DAILY not so subtle hints have not motivated him to do it and you would think he would from sheer annoyance. I mean if I was getting begged/hounded like that poor bastard I would probably give in just to shut the person up. Well that or bitchslap the person, but that's me.) wrote letter to maybe-to-be fiance pleading with him not to marry or continue dating her since she is such a train wreck (and I don't just mean her looks)....

anyways.....

I am now an unemployed Lotion Pusher with barely a cent to her name and have no clue as to where I am going but I am happy. And that is something I haven't been in a long time.

Image from one of the greatest websites of all time www.nataliedee.com. Check it out, you'll be glad you did.

As the Bruise Turns....

Day 5....it just keeps growing and growing (it is now at 6 inched long by 4.5 inches wide).....Picture A is just up close picture. Picture B is so that you can see the size in relation to the dogs. Maybe my leg needs amputation after all...

Congratulations!

Congratulations to my brother and his expecting wife!!!! I promise I will not let you down in the Aunt department.

PS - Aryan, did Rob mention he was born with a tail? Just thought you would like to be prepared...

Is That Toasted Corn in my Burrito?

Today on my way home from hell on Earth, I mean work, I stopped at Taco Bell to drown my stresses in faux beef smothered with cheese whiz wrapped in a tortilla aka a cheesy double beef burrito.

And it tasted like corn nuts.

Either I'm having an off taste bud day or I should be concerned.

Very concerned.

The Bruise Goes On...

Day 3 from the whole slipping on the way into the shower incident. The bruise is darker, larger but turning that lovely shade of yellow that let's me know it's at least healing and my leg won't need to be amputated.

Woe is me.....

Why does it always seem that when one aspect of your life is going so perfectly, the other side is unraveling?

At home, I have the best husband a gal could ask for, and while the place we live in is nowhere near ideal, we are making strides to change it with a move planned in the next few months and redecorating under way. Really, when I get home, I don't think it is possible to be happier.

But at work, I am miserable. I love being a lotion pusher. I love working with people and talking about skin and ingredients. I spent a small fortune on my education and I love that I am able to use it on a daily basis (making those $200+ loan payments seem not so bad). But I can't stand where I work. Don't get me wrong, I love my boss and think the world of her (I can honestly say she is one of the best bosses I have ever had and I feel lucky to have met her) but there is so much crap always going on in the shop due to people's immaturity and lack of business ethics/personal responsibility. I never get a day off without my phone blowing up with the girls arguing with each other or tattle-telling on everything. If one of them so much as breathes wrong, I get a call. They gang up on each other and it seems to rotate week to week on whose on the outs with who. They overexaggerate everything and when you try to stay medium because you can honestly see that both sides are utterly ridiculous, they yell at you and get mad because you aren't siding with them. Majority of the time I feel like a babysitter and a referee. Almost all of the time I feel helpless and like a "bad mommy".

The corporation I work for has proven ineffective. Even when you discipline the employee according to the corporate disciplinary matrix, all the employee has to due is complain to HR that it was in just and that they are getting picked on and it all gets swept under the rug (even if you provide them documentation backing up your reasoning) and the manager gets in trouble for being too aggressive. So even though said manager is held accountable to certain rules and standards, they have no power to really in force anything. And once one figures this out, they all know. As one of my employees stated: You could pretty much do anything short of murder and not get in trouble or fired for it here. And with that knowledge, they proceed to do whatever the fuck they want. And it gets better because each of them honestly feels that whats okay for them, is not okay for the other. For example, its okay for one of them to be late, but if someone else (whomever is on the outs that week usually) is late, they blow a gasket and are texting me and calling me to complain and that person's head better be on a stake outside the store by the end of the shift. Or they feel like it is okay to confront anyone and everyone who complains about them but the second they get confronted for the same thing it is "attitude" and they are not dealing with it. Basically, the store is filled with pots and kettles and they are all calling each other black.

In all, it makes me feel like a horrible person. I have never had to deal with this much crap at any other job I have ever had (and I make less now than I have in 8+ years). And I have seen a lot in the past 14+ years I have been working. I know I am not a bad person or the bitch that all my employees call me behind my back (yes, they run and tell on each other on that too) and that it is all because I try to in force rules (no, you cannot read magazines at the counter; yes, you must take the trash out at the end of the night; etc.) And its not like I make them do anything that isn't in their job description but I am treated like I am the mega beast who has them slaving away for no pay with no breaks and having to perform ungodly acts. And it is all weighing on me heavily. The stress level is so high that as I sit here, I feel like I have to vomit because I dread having to go there. It makes me physically ill at the thought of having to go to work. I can barely turn my head because my muscles are so tight/tense. I just can't do it any more. I cannot continue to be harassed by snotty 20 year olds who wouldn't survive a day in a real workplace and have my hands tied to be able to do anything about it. If this was at one of my previous companies, these girls would be told to suck it up and deal with it or get the fuck out. And I seriously long to say that to them. Suck it up, you aren't always friends with everyone you work with, no you cannot always speak your mind, most of the time you have to deal with your co-workers shit and come out with a smile on your face and mostly I want to scream: IT'S A FREE MOTHER FUCKING COUNTRY! NOBODY HOLDS A GUN TO YOUR HEAD AND MAKES YOUR DUMB ASS WORK HERE! IF YOU HATE YOUR JOB SO FUCKING MUCH, GO FIND A NEW ONE! ITS A REALLY SIMPLE SOLUTION TO YOUR NOT-SO-OVERLY-COMPLICATED PROBLEM!

I am on my way out from this job whether I quit or am fired. In the past, the thought of being canned really frightened me and scared the bejesus out of me, but at this point, I feel so beaten down and broken from this experience, that I just don't care anymore. I JUST DON'T CARE. Which is so unlike me because I have always overly cared about my job and my standing with it. I love work and doing a great job like a fat kid loves cake. But I am done with feeling like a failure and like I should slit my wrists. And I know it's a free country and no one makes me go to this job everyday except that unlike my employees who either live with their parents or boyfriends that make bank, I have bill collectors that hound me with the promise to strip me of everything. So for the sake of my home-happiness I can't just up and quit. And while I have something in the works, it is just not working fast enough for me. I want to be able to walk out of that store and never return today. I want to turn around at the entrance and scream: FUCK YOU BITCHES! and walk on out and never have to speak or see any of them ever again. I left a great job to take this one because it was my "passion" but it has killed what I love, chewed me up and left me bitter and vile. And for some reason, even though I feel like roadkill, on the verge of purging my breakfast, suffering from locked up muscles and tears rolling down my fat cheeks, I still feel obligated to go there because the one thing this hell on earth hasn't killed is my work ethic.

Jenn: broken spirit, fucked up sense of worth, awesome work ethic.

Oh, lucky me.

And the Bruise Continues.....

I never knew my skin was capable of turning such shades, but as you can see the bruise not only continues to grow darker but larger as well. And all I can think of is the line from Drop Dead Fred when he tells Snot Face that she looks like a "Big Bruise". I love that movie!

Blythe....

so sad.....so terribly sad....My Blythe...my doll soul mate.....someone else won her...or is winning her at the moment but nonetheless the bids are higher than my checkbook can go so she is gone....A part of me is dying....today should be remembered as a national day of mourning...the day someone stole my Blythe from me and turned me into a bitter old hag. I hope Blythe comes alive in the winner's house and eats their face off. Would teach them right from separating us. First I fall getting into the shower and now this. Today SUCKS!!!!

This Is What Falling in the Shower Looks Like...

Now I know this bruise looks cool and all. So cool in fact you probably want to go out and get your own shower bruise, but let me tell you, falling in the shower (or as you are getting into it) is not as glamorous as it looks. Those shades of blue and purple and awesome swelling cannot be replicated so, folks, please don't try this at home.

Blythe! Blythe! Blythe!

I haven't posted on here in forever and trust me, it is for good reason (i.e. getting married, honeymoon in Hawaii, business trip in FL, my brother's wedding in CA, swine flu, new mario for the wii and working thru the most hellish holiday season in retail history to name a few) but I am going to make a point to try to be more frequent as blogging is probably a lot saner than talking to myself. At least with blogging I can pretend there is an audience listening/reading.

If you know me, you know that I get obsessed with things pretty often (be it actual objects or projects/hobbies). And not just the "oh I would like to have that" but the straight out feel-like-I-am-going-to-die-if-I-don't-have-it kind of obsession and i run the gamut of things to be obsessed over. In the last few months things I have coveted have been:
*Coach purse: Brooke in cherry
*Coach Sunglasses: tasha in burgundy (they are so hot!)
*Laura Mercier Creme De Pistache body lotion & scrub, and her neroli perfume
*A plethora of Aveda products
*Crocheting
*Embroidering (especially with patterns from Sublime Stitching)
*Owning a Cricut Machine (and I will own one someday and make die cut everything!)
*Redecorating our family room (this encompasses searching for a new TV, coach, recliner, coffee table, etc.)
*Redecorating our bedroom
*Decorating my office
*Dieting/detoxing
*My hair (trying to find pictures of the perfect cut and color)
and these are just the things I can remember off the top of my head (and are in addition to the things I just am generally always obsessing over). I know I drive my husband and friends crazy with the way I bounce around from object of desire to object of desire and they most likely get sick of all the talking I do about them (and the stupid wistful look I get on my face while doing said going on and on) but it is one of the "quirky" things they love about me (right????!!!!). Typically, after checking web pages of objects daily (sometimes even multiple times a days) I either purchase the item or find something else that replaces it and/or steals my attention (I have a very short attention span anyway). I know I have just outlined the definition of someone having an obsessive/compulsive disorder but frankly my dear, I just don't give a damn.

This brings me to my latest object du jour....Blythe. Blythe was a doll that Kenner manufactured for 1 year (1972) and then was pulled from production because the doll was deemed "too scary" for children (she has a fairly large head and giant peepers that change color and direction with the pull of a string). Fast forward to the late nineties/early '00s, when the doll was reintroduced into the Japan market and became a smash with a cult-like following. I first saw one of these online a few months ago and had to know what it was. I thought she was cool and such but felt no instant, overwhelming desire to possess a Blythe of my own. I did however, catalog it into my general obsessions categories and would do random searches for her when I couldn't think of anything else to surf for. And that's how i found her....the Blythe doll I have to have or I will die.

See, Blythes come from the factory all cute and such but a lot of people out there take her and customize her by repainting, handmade clothes, new eye chips, etc. and it is these custom ones that fascinate me (and make me green with envy on their amazing talent). The Blythe I have picked out makes me squeal (yes, I am using the word squeal) with delight every time I look at her pictures. She is my doll soul mate and we need to be together. The auction (currently I am the reigning high bidder) doesn't end until Saturday and the anticipation is driving me crazy. And J too (well, technically I am making him crazy as is the thought of my paying the high price tag for something he finds slightly creepy). I just have to win this doll or I think the world is going to end.

I am fully aware of how ridiculous this all sounds. I am 30 years old and just rambled on and on about a doll that was originally manufactured for groovy seven year olds. A doll that didn't even interest its primary demographic long enough to make it a year on the shelves in the US (which honestly boggles my mind. what kid wouldn't want a doll whose eyes change colors???!!! It beats the hair growing dolls by a long shot). I even bought Haute Doll magazine tonight at Powell's because it had a whole spread on Blythecon '09 in it. My obsessions have reached new heights and I can honestly see myself surrounded by Blythes. There is no help for me. I am following my grandmother and my great grandmother's footsteps and becoming a doll collector. It starts with one and next thing I know I will have a custom built doll cabinet with a crap ton of dolls crammed in it. It is in my DNA to do this. And while I may have dabbled recreationally in toy collecting in my past, when it comes to dolls, Blythe is my gateway drug.

No other family member in my generation have shown symptoms of possessing the doll collecting chromosome. I just hope that when J and I decide to procreate we have a girl. That way the hereditary doll collecting hobby will not die with me and I can have someone I can leave all my future dolls to.