First Day on the Job

(Originally written on August 24, 2009)

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As the post title implies, today was my first day on the job at B&B!  Although, the guy who’s supposed to be training me is out of the office closing on a house and they didn’t really know what to do with me in lieu of that fact.  But I think I’m really gonna like it here.

•     •     •     •     •

I sat in on a flu meeting today that covered both the seasonal flu and the swine flu and how they’re trending (B&B is in the over-the-counter drug industry).  HOLY SHIT – it’s really scary.

•     •     •     •     •

I awoke yesterday morning only to find a late-night text from Mario:

I miss you already. : (

Ugh!  Why does he have to do that?

•     •     •     •     •

I’m definitely going to stop drinking after tonight (I’m finishing off the two mix-six packs that I bought yesterday:  mostly local microbrews that I’ve never heard of before – I had to give ‘em a try!).  When I got dressed this morning, I couldn’t fit into a pair of dress pants that I’ve never had a problem fitting into, which knocks out half of my “temporary” clothes to tide me over until I find an apartment because all of my other pants are from the same store in the same size, just in different colors.  Beast told me that it’s probably from all the beer I’ve been drinking.  Well, my wardrobe is reason enough to take some time off the sauce!  Besides, of my two favorite coworkers (so far, that is), one of them is pregnant and the other one has a six-month-old baby, so neither of them drink…

•     •     •     •     •

So, as I referred to above, until I find an apartment, I am residing in the Best Western – which from-here-on-out will be referred to as the B-Dub.  Oh my god, when I worked out in the hotel exercise room this afternoon (this was my first time; I just checked in yesterday), they had absolutely no air-conditioning on!  I had to turn it on myself when I came in, which really didn’t do anything on my behalf because even at full blast it would probably take longer to cool the room than the 30 minutes that I spent on the treadmill.  AND there was no door on the hinges of the entry to the exercise room (which was so conveniently located directly in front of the air-conditioning unit across the room)…and everyone in the hall seemed to make an effort to stare at me as they walked by.  It made me really uncomfortable, especially since I was sweating more intensely than usual due to the lack of AC.

Twitter n’ Bones

(Originally written on August, 10, 2009)

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A couple of days ago, Mario tweeted the following:

I love somebody who cannot be loved.

I can’t help but know that he’s referring to me and how I’m not interested in him as anything more than a friend.  And that just puts me in an uncomfortable place.  Why does he have to go and do stuff like that?  I really wonder if everyone else catches onto that or knows that that’s the situation.

•     •     •     •     •

I was watching Bones this evening and the following quote had me in stitches for literally half-an-hour – if not longer:

I clicked on a pop-up and got caught in a pornado!

Ha ha ha!  I love it!

The Search Is FINALLY Over!

(Originally written on July 27, 2009)

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I GOT THE B&B JOB!!!!!

I received this glorious news via a phone call at around 10 this morning.

I can’t believe it:  I actually got a job.  I was really starting to lose hope in the possibility that I would find one, especially in this economy.  For the past two-and-a-half months, I have spent HOURS EVERY DAY scouring the internet for job postings and applying to approximately seven of them on average each day.  Maybe 10 companies contacted me back throughout that entire time – and I was always rejected every time either because my Master’s degree made me overqualified or because I didn’t have enough job experience.  I was truly beginning to think that my only option was that I was going to have to ask Beast for a job at his distributorship.

Be that as it may, I immediately burst into tears of joyous relief following that phone call.  After composing myself, the first person I called was Beast; I couldn’t wait for him to know that I wasn’t just this overrated failure after all.  However, he was unreachable because he was in-flight on his way home from wherever it is that he was this time, which, I believe, was out-of-the-country (he travels a lot for work, both nationally and internationally).  So, unsurprisingly, the next person I called was Martyr.  And she didn’t answer either!  Ahh – all I wanted to do was share my wonderful news with someone else!  Mario was working, so I texted him, and then I called Scarlet.  Someone FINALLY picked up! That conversation went as can be expected and then Martyr called me back.

Martyr was, of course, incredibly enthusiastic (she went on and on about how god “blessed” me with this job and how she’d been praying and praying that I would get this particular job) and we decided to go to Polly’s for celebratory wine and lunch.  Punky was the day bartender/server.  Punky currently lives with Leto in the apartment below mine since Belle moved out.  She’s really cool; I like her a lot.  Anyways, after Martyr and I had finished eating, Punky insisted on buying me a congratulatory dessert.  That was really nice of her to do and something I wasn’t expecting – so I gratefully accepted it and made her indulge in a bite or two with me!

Also while we were at Polly’s, Beast got around to calling me back and I was able to share my good news with him.  After finishing our drinks (I had a few more than Martyr, who was driving), Martyr dropped me back off at my apartment and we set up plans to send Chip and Dale to pick me up later this evening and bring me to the house for dinner.

Then, just when I thought it couldn’t get any better, B&B called me back at around 3 this afternoon to discuss with me the exact details of my offer.  In our previous discussions, they had left me with the expectation of a salary somewhere in the ballpark of $75,000.  That was shocking enough.  But this, I was in no way prepared for:  the HR woman on the phone told me that I will be receiving an annual salary of $85,000 PLUS 10% bonuses PLUS benefits:  health, vision, and dental insurance AND a relocation package.

Yea.

This news literally left me in shock – my whole body shaking in utter, well, shock.  Throughout the entire delivery of this information, I pretty much just sat there in silence with my jaw gaping wide open.  At the end of the (one-way) conversation after informing me of all this, the HR woman then said, “I know that’s a little more than we had discussed…”

Yea, no kidding!

A Successful Surgery!

(Originally written on July 6, 2009)

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This afternoon, I decided to go to Polly’s to apply for jobs online and get a change of scenery from my apartment…while also drinking, of course.  As soon as I came in, Kip told me that I need to tell Mario to “lay off”, that he was overbearingly protective of me on Friday night (Mario and I chilled at Polly’s for the evening and ended up hanging out a good bit with Kip) whenever a guy tried to talk to me.  Mainly Voodoo, who has a girlfriend anyways…

•     •     •     •     •

While I was sitting at the bar this afternoon, Sly came in for a few drinks and was complaining about how he had an extremely painful ingrown toenail yet he couldn’t go to the doctor for it because he doesn’t have health insurance and can’t afford to pay for it out-of-pocket.  That kind of stuff doesn’t bother me and I’ve never seen an ingrown toenail before, so I asked him if I could see it.  After taking a look and a little googling of ingrown toenail treatment and removal methods, I realized that I had some special nail clippers (the kind that they use during pedicures to remove cuticles and the extra width of big toenails) and told him that I wouldn’t mind helping him out by removing it myself.  For the longest time when I was little, I wanted to be a surgeon – a brain surgeon, to be precise.  Anyways, he was definitely surprised that I volunteered to do that for him, yet, you could tell he was excited about the prospect of finally putting the pain to rest (it’s been really bothering him for a week now).  And he kept asking me, “Are you sure you really want to do this?”

So at around 6pm after running by my apartment to grab the necessary tools, I headed over to Sly’s house and we prepared for surgery.  By the time I got there, Sly had consumed a six-pack of beer and started taking swigs from a fifth of Evan Williams bourbon.  In addition to the booze, we initiated the process by having him soak his foot in a pot of warm water with Epsom salt generously poured in.  After about 40 minutes or so, Sly had finished over half of the fifth and he gave me the go-ahead to begin the surgery.  I started operating by puncturing the swollen area to drain the puss and then I removed the blister-like skin (Sly definitely stopped me a few times throughout this process for additional gulps of bourbon).

Once the soft tissue was taken care of, the problematic corner of the toenail became visible and it was time to take care of the underlying problem.  At this point, Sly turned long-ways on the sofa and I straddled his knee facing his foot because he said he was afraid that he couldn’t hold still and might kick me in the face or something (three of Sly’s guy friends had come over for support, I guess, and neither of them wanted to take any part in it – not even to simply hold his leg down…yet they definitely wanted to watch me do it.  It was really funny, actually.  They were really squeamish and kept telling me, “I don’t know how you can do that.  You are such a good friend for doing this.”).  The effect of the alcohol in Sly’s system was definitely evident in the amount in which he was bleeding (besides his obvious drunkenness, of course).  So after removing the corner/edge of the toenail, I swabbed it with peroxide, applied Neosporin (it wasn’t exactly Neosporin, but it was something along those lines, I just don’t remember what it was called), applied two Band-Aids, and then wrapped the toe with gauze (because Band-Aids never stay on toes).

In the process of cleaning and bandaging the toe, Sly had fallen asleep.  So I’m just going to have to call Sly in the morning to check up on him and give him care instructions.  But as of right now, I’d say the surgery was a success!

Oh Dear

(Originally written on June 16, 2009)

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I don’t even know where to begin with everything that has happened today, but I’m gonna give it my best shot.

I have been watching over Ursula, Chip, and Dale and holding the fort down at Beast’s and Martyr’s house since Sunday because Beast and Martyr are in Arkansas for Beast’s cancer treatment (Beast has a very rare cancer:  multiple myeloma, and that’s where the specialist is) and Martyr’s dad (my grampa) couldn’t make it (he normally steps in to do this kind of stuff in situations such as this).  So, for starters, I’m a little out of my element since I’ve been living out of a suitcase and not getting to sleep in my own bed.  Also, Peabody and Lilly are going nuts being around Martyr’s three cats – they are not happy about it.  Anyways, before they left, Martyr told me that no friends were allowed to spend the night while she and Beast were away.  Not too much to ask, right?  Wrong!  You see, I’m the “cool sister”, if you will, that normally hooks Chip and Dale up with booze when they need it (they’re only 18) – the way I see it, if they don’t get it from me, they’re just going to go and get it from someone else (and Ursula refuses to help them out, even though I did it for her until she turned 21, too…).  So Chip and Dale have been bugging me about that.  And, oh yea, Ursula loves to be a tattletale and get the three of us in trouble; she has a history of being untrustworthy and guilesome.  So I’m torn between maintaining my “cool sis” rep and truly earning Beast’s and Martyr’s trust (while also avoiding having to worry about Ursula’s big mouth).

So now that I’ve gotten that important bit of background laid out, let’s take a step back to what happened last night.  Mario’s parents recently (like, within the past couple of days or so) abruptly decided to get a divorce…while they were on the third day of a two-week long (originally intended, that is) romantic beach getaway together.  In the heat of the argument, Mario’s dad took the car, leaving his mom in Florida by herself with no way of getting back (apparently, she commanded him to do so, making sure to be completely moved out of their house before her return), and came back to town alone.  So…Mario and his family (minus his mom, of course) have been drinking quite heavily over the past couple of days since his dad’s return.  Well, last night was no exception.  I hadn’t yet had the opportunity to speak with Mario in person about his parents’ situation and wanted to be there for him, and he invited Chip, Dale, their bandmates, and me to join him and his family in drowning their sorrows.  I figured, hey, Martyr never said anything about spending or not spending the night out…so we took Mario up on his offer.

Some more relevant background information real quick:  you see, over the course of the past month or so, I’ve been getting these signs from Mario that indicate that he likes me as more than just a friend (but I don’t see him that way).  For example, whenever we’re sitting next to each other, like, on a sofa watching TV or whatever, he will rest his hand on my knee or airdrum on my knee (he’s the drummer in his band), and he once texted me, “I had the biggest crush on you in high school.”  I mean, what am I supposed to say to that?

Well, yesterday afternoon, Mario sent me a series of texts consistent with what I just explained, two of them being, “I’ll feel much better once you’re here,” and, “Everything will be better when I see you.”  So before heading over to Mario’s place, Dale, the bandmates, and I went to Los Compadres for dinner, where I made sure to down a couple of margaritas.  Chip was hanging out with his girlfriend and was planning on catching back up with us at Mario’s afterward.

Okay, I’m starting to see where this is going:  if I continue to describe all the details, this one post is bound to quickly turn into a novel.  So, long story short, I let Dale borrow my car (as opposed to driving his own) – but not before lecturing him (in front of his bandmates) on driving carefully because I’m responsible for everything while Beast and Martyr are away.  Dale met up with us at Mario’s later, but didn’t drink, so I rode back home with him (to Beast’s and Martyr’s house) after a bit.  Not only did I want to avoid any uncomfortable occurrence between Mario and me, but I also felt that staying the night at the house is part of what Martyr asked me to do.

This morning at 6:30am, Dale walked into my bedroom (I had been sleeping).  He quietly approached my bed, handed me my car keys, and said,

Elliott, you aren’t going to believe this…but I wrecked your car.

What?  You’ve got to be kidding me.  Come on, it’s 6:30 in the morning.

No, I know you told me to be careful, but…

Are you serious?

Yea.

Upon realizing that Dale was, in fact, telling the truth, I first made sure that he and the bandmates were alright.  Then, he explained to me what happened:  they were sitting at the red light at the entrance to our neighborhood and when it turned green, Dale decided to floor it.  Then, a deer hopped out in front of the car and he swerved to avoid it, colliding with the guardrail.  They didn’t call the police to report it because they were afraid that there might still have been traces of alcohol on their breath. Oh dear… Well, what was done was done, so I told Dale to just go to bed and that we’d take care of it later when we were awake.

I got up and took a look at the damage:  shattered left headlight and severely dented front bumper, hood, and left front panel, which was pressing on the tire.  I don’t know how he was able to drive it the rest of the way home.  Anyways, Dale wouldn’t get out of bed, so I took it upon myself to inform Beast and Martyr about the incident.  I was expecting the worst – something along the lines of them telling me that they couldn’t believe that I had let this happen.  But, surprisingly, they took it really well.  Really well…and then they informed me that they’re having to extend their stay in Arkansas from tomorrow’s original return date to Friday because of Beast’s condition…  Great.

Oh!  And I also awoke this morning to a couple of additional little “surprises”.  I received a text from Mario last night sometime while I was asleep that said, “So I really like you,” and, around the same time, he twittered or tweeted or whatever, “@[my twitter name] but I am SO into you.”  I mean, the text was one thing, but all of our mutual friends/contacts/followers (I don’t let anyone follow me who I don’t know) can see and read his tweet – I don’t know if they would necessarily get it; they could think it’s an inside joke or something, but still!  What am I going to do?  Do I confront him about it?  Do I just continue to pretend that it didn’t happen?

Happy Birthday to Me

(Originally written on June 12, 2009)

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I am 23 years old today.

To be perfectly honest, this birthday is kinda depressing to me – I don’t have any friends here (except for Mario – okay, one) and I’m still jobless.  I really don’t feel like doing anything special to celebrate; to me, today is just like any other day lately – and that’s the way I want it to be.  However, Martyr has been bugging me all week about making plans and she’s been really adamant about it.  I’ve explained myself to her several times:  that I don’t feel that I really have anything to celebrate and to celebrate with the family is just going to remind me that I don’t have friends here and make me feel even more lonely.  But that apparently didn’t matter to her.  She suggested earlier this week that we get pedicures together, but I told her that I’d rather have the money.  She said that was okay at first, but today she insisted that I go with her to get one anyways.

I mean, that’s cool.  It felt really good and my toenails look nice now.  Don’t get me wrong, I very much enjoyed it; but shouldn’t I be the one to decide what I want to do on my birthday?

Anyways, after the pedicures, I went out to Los Compadres for dinner and margaritas with the fam (Beast, Martyr, Ursula, Chip, and Dale) plus two of Chip’s and Dale’s friends.  Beast and Martyr surprised me with $400 and a matching ring and pair of earrings that I absolutely LOVE.  After dinner, Beast, Martyr, and I all went downtown for some celebratory drinks.  We later met up with Mario and the four of us then hit up all of my favorite bars that I haven’t visited in a while.

This birthday turned out much better than I was expecting for it to be.  All in all, I’d call it a success!

•     •     •     •     •

Mind you, I haven’t forgotten what Gaston said about coming back in town for my birthday.  I’ve been nervous all day about running into him, yet I still kinda hoped that I would.  We haven’t communicated in any way whatsoever since that Wednesday when everything between us officially ended (June 3^rd).  Well, he didn’t come back after all.  I didn’t even receive so much as a happy birthday text from him…

Missed Connections

(Originally written on May 27, 2009)

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Chickadee intern orientation today.  The CEO came in and gave a presentation about being a leader.  Then he revealed that this was not the company for someone who wants a flashy office and all that jazz.  I know that IS what I want, can I therefore resign?

•     •     •     •     •

Gaston came back in town on Saturday.  We were supposed to hang out later on that afternoon, but he was out-of-reach because he took a nap and then didn’t wake up until 9pm.  Once I started getting ready for bed, he finally called.  I ignored it.  Immediately, he called me right back, so I answered.   He told me that he was waiting at my door and asked if he could come in.  So I came downstairs, let him in, and we sat and talked for a little while.  He at one point put his leg up in my lap; however, we didn’t even hug at any point and nothing else physically binding occurred between the two of us.  He went out downtown for the remainder of the night, but before he left my apartment, I expressed that I wanted to spend some time with him before he returned home to south Georgia and I started working.

I ended up not going to trivia on Sunday because I went to a barbeque with Mario and some of our friends from back in my high school days instead…so I didn’t see Gaston on Sunday.  Then, when I left for the grocery store on Monday (which was Memorial Day), he was driving out of the parking lot with who I believe was Tomboy in the front seat and he simply – yet cheerfully – waved at me in passing.  I later texted him asking if we would have “our time”.  No response.  Sometimes he doesn’t get my texts, so I sent him a direct message on Twitter (which he receives on his cell phone in real time as text messages).  Still, to this day, no word from him in response to either of my messages.  And he was supposedly going back home to south Georgia yesterday, but when I got home last night and left this morning, his car was still sitting in our apartment parking lot.  Guess he didn’t go back home yesterday after all…  The red BMW that I think belongs to Tomboy is also still in the parking lot.

Why am I anxiously awaiting his response? I KNOW I don’t want to be with him – I could go on and on with reasons why.  But for some reason I just can’t help but crave his love/attention/affection/approval/whatever.  Why can’t my heart and emotions accept my logic and just let go?

•     •     •     •     •

So we just got back from the orientation lunch and chicken processing plant tour.  All I’m going to say about the tour is that I enjoy not being a vegetarian and don’t understand why it was necessary for me to have to see that.  For lunch, on the other hand, we were served a really nice six-course meal – full place settings and all (needless to say, everything except dessert and coffee was chicken).  Let me just say that I am astounded that I was the only one present that knew how to properly use silverware – I mean, this is a company that is centered around food.  It wasn’t the other interns who surprised me, but not a single one of the high-rankings of the company knew how to properly use silverware.  That’s part of simple business etiquette – I mean, if nothing else, at least remember the rule quoted to Leo DiCaprio in Titanic:  “Just start from the outside and work your way in”!

Oh my god, the Vice President of Human Resources is supposed to be finished presenting by now, yet he’s just been blowing air up his own asshole for his entire time slot.  Wow, he thinks really highly of himself.  He hasn’t even started his presentation yet…

Ugh – they constantly throw around the words/phrases “murder”, “slaughter”, and “rip ‘em apart” to describe the chickens and their processing.  Although the Chickadee employees may be used to it, I am not nearly as desensitized about the whole thing.  Like I said earlier, I enjoy not being a vegetarian and could do without hearing those words/phrases in this context.

The Music Box

(Originally written on May 20, 2009)

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In September of 2007, Martyr’s mother (my gramma) died from ovarian cancer.  She was by far the grandparent that I was always closest to.  Like me, she was an artist – only, she preferred oil painting, whereas I prefer sketching and working with colored pencils.  Now, Gramma was never one to play favorites, but I think the two of us had a special connection because of that (the art).

Anyhow, Martyr and her sister (my aunt) were responsible for dividing up Gramma’s estate after she died.  I submitted my request for only one item:  a little 3” long by 4” wide by 1” deep jewelry/music box.  It’s really primarily a music box because the music-workings take up so much room that the remaining space for the jewelry compartment is only 3” x 1” x 1”.  I guess I could put a couple pairs of earrings in there…  For as long as I can remember, that little music box sat on the counter in the hallway bathroom of her house.  When we were really little, Gramma would play it whenever she gave us baths.  Over time, however, the inner-workings of the little old box had broken so that when wound up, the key would unwind crazy fast as soon as you let go of it – within seconds, regardless of how much you wound it.

Lately, I’ve been hanging out with Mario a lot more.  Sometime last week after a drunken night downtown, I briefly mentioned the music box and showed it to him when he dropped me off.  I didn’t think anything of it, just a drunken tangent, and I assumed that he dismissed it as the same.

For my Bacchus trip, Mario volunteered to feed Peabody and Lilly while I was away.  Thus, I temporarily entrusted him with a key to my apartment.

After carrying up my luggage when I got home this afternoon, I plopped down on my sofa and audibly exhaled as I looked around at my apartment.  When I glanced in the direction of my dining table, I noticed that Gramma’s music box was sitting on it.  I thought, “That’s odd, I always keep that in my bathroom upstairs.  What is it doing down here?”  I got up, walked to the table, and noticed that there was a note in front of the music box that read, “Open Me.”  It was fixed! Immediately, a huge grin took over my face and my eyes welled up with uncontrollable tears of reminiscence, happiness, and gratitude.  I then waited a bit to calm down before calling Mario and thanking him.

No one has ever made such a nice gesture towards me or in any respect as benevolent as what Mario did by fixing Gramma’s music box.  I know I could have taken it in and gotten it fixed at any time, but I probably never would have.  I mean, I only talked with him about it that one time, that one brief moment.  And then I come home after three nights away and he’s gotten it fixed for me.  It just means a lot.  Because I do miss Gramma so much – even when she was sick from her chemo meds, she still had a sense of humor about her.  It’s really refreshing that Mario did that for me.  I’m not sure how I’m going to thank him; I’ll just have to think about it.

Takeoff

(Originally written on May 17, 2009)

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I have officially decided (again) that I am getting rid of Gaston and that crowd of friends for good.  I still haven’t heard anything from Gaston; this is the third day without any contact whatsoever between us.  I know this is the right thing to do – I mean, he (supposedly) doesn’t even have time to think about “us” and told me, “I’m not sure you’re worth it.”

I am currently leaving to go to California for a series of interviews with Bacchus.  There is a couple sitting next to me on the plane cuddling really sweetly and they’re making me lovesick.  I know (somewhere inside me) I don’t want to be with Gaston, but I do still yearn for a relationship.  I think that’s why I’ve waited on him for so long.  BUT I know that I just can’t do that anymore and I just need to “purge” myself of him (as Scarlet put it).  I’ve actually stopped hanging out with all of them these past three days – Napoleon, Leto, Yuengling, everyone.  Both Scarlet and Mario agree that it’s what’s best.

I know I’m gonna look back at the time I’ve spent with them and regret it, but it really does hurt to knowingly purge them when I have practically no one else to be around and hang out with.  Perhaps that’s more the reason to move somewhere far, far away – if for nothing else (besides a job, obviously) than to get away from the constant reminder of this catastrophe.

There is a surprising number of Europeans on this flight…

GOD! I wish they would stop kissing!

Good to Know I’m Not the Only One

(Originally written on May 16, 2009)

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Remember the post detailing the time I ran into X at one of my friend’s band’s shows?  Well that friend is Mario and I know him from high school.  He has told me that I was the first girl at our high school that was ever nice to him (he transferred in the 10^th grade from a Christian school; we ate lunch together, Spring semester of that year, I believe).  Anyways, he started dating Hippo around the same time X and I started dating.  And I’m not calling her Hippo because she’s fat!  I mean, she is a little on the bigger side, but that’s beside the point – she used to be obsessed with drawing hippopotamuses in high school.  I don’t know, she may still be; I never knew her beyond an acquaintance (and still don’t).

Well, Mario and Hippo just broke up this past September and tonight Mario and I discussed it over dinner at Los Compadres.  He explained to me that what’s helped him the most has been living for himself and not for pleasing someone else (both Flower-Child and Scarlet have tried sharing that same concept with me before…I guess it’s different when you hear it coming from someone currently going through it).  What hit me the hardest was when he told me,

I realized I was happy by making her happy.  Then I stepped back and saw how shitty she was treating me.  I was living as she wanted me to, I wasn’t myself.

And they were together for five years…  How can I let Gaston do the exact same thing to me and yet we weren’t/aren’t even “dating”?