Day three of babysitting—8:07pm—and I feel like I've been hit by an excavator. Note the word choice. I'm a construction machinery expert now. What you generically call a "digger" I know to be an excavator. What you so naively call a bulldozer is actually a font-end loader. That thing you call a fork lift? Well, that is indeed a fork lift, so good job. You got one right.
The thing is, being in charge of two kids is exhausting. And these two kids are easy! They're sweet, snuggly, independent players that do pretty much everything I ask them to do. So how will I feel after taking care of my future kids all day? With half of Andy's genes, there's no doubt they'll be big time troublemakers.
Of course, the upside is that we've been having lots, and I mean LOTS, of fun. The best thing about toddlers is the jokes. The unintentional ones, of course (their intentional jokes are terrible).
Two hilarious Ollie moments from the drive to Edmonds: 1. We're playing the "Guess what animal I am?" game. I oink, he says pig. He moos, I say cow. I hiss, he says snake. Then he hisses, so I guess snake. But he tells me no, I'm not snake. So I guess, lizard? He says no. Hmm. Bee? No. OK then, just tell me. What animal are you? A deer, he says.
2. We turn the radio on and the song 'Earned It' by The Weeknd is on. You know the one. It goes, "Cause girl you're perfect. You're always worth it. And you deserve it. The way you work it." Anyway, that song comes on and Ollie pipes up with, "This is Baby Margot's favorite song!" Keep in mind Margot is 16 months old and has probably met her twice in his life. I say, "Oh really? It is?" and he says, "Yeah."
When life give you a floor, make it a place to take naps!
And with that, I must go bake a flag cake. Happy Birthday, America.
I rarely laugh. I guffaw quite a bit though. And I politely chuckle A LOT.
Still, genuine, full-blown laughter is increasingly rare. So rare, in fact, that afterward I find myself sighing and saying, "Ahh, that was a good laugh..."
What's wrong with me?
Why can't I be like my niblings (again, I promise that's the official term) who laugh hysterically at their dumb, made-up jokes (e.g. mailbox elbow, graham cracker leaf)? Why can't I be like Andy who walks through life in a permanent state of laughter? Why can't I be like that giggling buffoon Anderson Cooper? Or that maniacal hyena Tom Cruise? Why can't I be like Bill Clinton and Boris Yeltsin in the photo below?
Dat Boris Yeltsin standup. Always a knee-slapper. Watch here.
Image by White House Photographic Office via Wikimedia Commons
The last time I remember laughing—really laughing—was when I saw Borat in the theater sophomore year of college. I suppose there were also the few times Andy decided it'd be a good idea to tickle me, something he now knows to never do again1. But that's about it.
I suspect it's because I'm uptight. I need to take a deep breath, relax my shoulders, let my bowl cut down and be open to all the potential laughs out there in the universe2. I need to stray away from things that I find amusing or interesting or ironic and move in the direction of untimely farting, footballs hitting crotches and rakes to the face.
To kick things off, I will present to you one of my favorite YouTube videos of all time:
ROTFLMAO,
Margaret
P.S. Speaking of Anderson Cooper, remember when he was the host on that AMAZING reality game show 'The Mole'? His career will never be able to top that.
1 Tickling is torture and I can't be held responsible my actions whilst being tickled. I WILL kick you in the face.
2 My mom went to Mirval (that fancy spa that Kourtney Kardashian and Scott Disick went to in an attempt to save their relationship) and when she came back she said she noticed that people use the word "universe" a lot. "That's a new thing," she said. "The way people say universe all the time—that's new."
There's a man in Edmonds, Washington who has dedicated his life to boycotting Alaska Airlines. For years now, he's had signs up in his windows, on his car and erected in his front yard.
Note: the photo below is outdated. The sign now has a spotlight.
Curious cat that I am, I decided to Google "Boycott Alaska Airlines Scu..."—I didn't even have to finish typing. Clearly I'm not the first to have investigated this man's mission. Google autofilled my query and before I knew it I was on the homepage of alaskaairlinesscumoftheskies.com.
You know how they say that dogs look like their owners? Well, the same is true of websites. Kind of. I don't know what the Edmonds man looks like, but aesthetically, the website screams 'ramblings of an angry mad man'. Giant block of words, tiny font, double spaces after each period, second-person narrative and footer text that reads 'One Pissed Off Customer'. I loved it instantly.
I also just love it when people go big or go home. When they commit to something so intensely because it's too late and they've invested too much to bow out now. I do it a lot in debates with Andy. Even if I realize that he's right halfway through, I double down on my argument for dignity's sake.
Today my auntie Barb told me that her phone rang during a recent pilates class. Everyone looked around at each other. They all pointed to a woman whose phone had gone off before, but she swore hers was on vibrate. Even the teacher piped up to say, whoever's phone it was, just go turn it off. The whole time Barb kept quiet. She'd decided not to confess and she had no choice but to stick with it. With every passing second, it became increasingly impossible to fess up.
I completely understood her position and admitted that I would have done the same.
Back to Alaska Airlines man. I wanted to love his story. I wanted to grab my pitchfork and riot by his side. But his tale let me down. There are big chunks missing and the whole thing reads a bit homophobic.
I don't know. Maybe it's just bad copywriting. Perhaps he used up all his energy on 'Scum of the Skies', which is brilliant.
Whatever the case, I'm disappointed—and now a bit worried that, if he's any bit the Googler I am, there might be a 'Boycott Madgespace' sign up in his lawn tomorrow. I flatter myself.
Don't you love it when you discover a hilarious video on YouTube completely on your own? A few years ago I was looking for songs with the word 'ram' in them (my spouse's nickname is Ram) and came across this gem.
Things to consider when watching:
This was an actual NFL team. They're now the St. Louis Rams, apparently. #AmericanFootball
The guys rapping in the video are the athletes themselves.
Imagine this happening today. Can you picture Beast Mode rapping to a song called 'Hawk It'?
The song is really good.
This should be mandatory for all NFL teams.
Also, after Googling the song I now realize that I'm not the only one whose been fascinated by its existence. Turns out, there are tons of articles about how amazing it is. Still, I'm proud that I came across it organically.
In other news, I went camping and now I'm back. It was great. Here's a brief, chronological summary:
I'm only three parts into this mini series and I'm already breaking the rules. Instead of sharing a sixth grade essay, tonight I'm sharing a sixth grade poem. Close enough!
Highlights: "Fears...hatred" HA! Very David Brent.
Let's just pause for a second to remember these facts:
Benicio Del Toro has a baby with Kimberly Stewart (Rod Stewart's daughter / Paris Hilton's bff).
Hally Berry once did a hit and run.
Angelina Jolie kissed her brother on the lips on a red carpet and wore a vial of Billy Bob's blood around her neck.
Oprah's real name is Orpah.
When Sean Penn was married to Madonna, he hit her over the head with a baseball bat.
Jerry Springer was once the Mayor of Cincinnati.
Moving on...
I wasn't planning on watching The Bachelorette. It's been years since I partook in Chris Harrison's little matchmaking scheme, and I wasn't ready to jump back into the rose ceremonies, the teary confessionals, the steamy overnight dates, the skeptical father-in-laws-to-be...SIGH.
But then I heard some baristas at Starbucks talking about it. And my sistahs were planning a viewing party tonight. I didn't want to be the only girl in Kenmore who wasn't in the loop. Plus, Mad Men's over, Mindy Project's cancelled...
So, I'm WATCHING IT!
And I'm living for this drunk guy who they clearly paid to be obnoxious on night one. It happens every season. Oh boy, I think I might be enjoying this (she thinks, as she pops another bite-sized Reese's peanut butter cup in her mouth).
A bit of background before I share this amazing letter from my sister Char (age 11) to Grandpa Padden.
My grandpa made a deal with all us grandkids: don't watch TV for a year and you'll get $250 (some of the first-responders / his favorites got $500 — the lucky ducks).
Now, if you were to set me that challenge today, I would laugh in your face. But back then, $250 was soooooo much money. If you consider inflation and the worldview of a child's not-yet-fully-developed brain, $250 was the equivalent of $250,000. It was more money than I ever thought I'd have in my life.
We all did it. And it wasn't just no TV, but also no movies (with the exception of those watched in a cinema). I distinctly remember my cousin Albee sitting behind the television set and listening to the Olympics during her year sans tube. Even that was considered a grey area and potential breach of the contract.
Anyway, that's the context of this letter. Read and enjoy.
There's a lot to love about this letter, but mostly this: "Maybe you could send it to me in an envelope or something like that."
BAahhahahhaaha!
Way to really spell it out for him, Char. Just in case he doesn't know how the mail works.
I love this because I recognize the tactic as something I do all the time—to this day—in emails when I'm trying not to be too pushy. She even threw a smiley face in there! Long before emojis existed, people still used smiley faces to say, "I'm using a nice tone. Read this knowing that I'm using a nice tone" :)
Also, it's great that she only asks for $25 of the total $250. After all, she's a reasonable woman. She's willing to put him on a payment plan.
What could be better than having one best friend? Having TWO best friends!
Just ask my nephew Ollie, who welcomed a new bunny to his wolfpack today. Congratulations, Ollie! Although it was a rather unexpected addition, congratulations all the same.
Bunny Sr. on the left, Bunny Jr. on the right.
Photo credit: Anna Gorohoff
I'm back from Seaside tomorrow. Gosh, it feels like I've been away forever. I feel like I live in Seaside now. I've gone from tourist to townie in just one week!
Just when I have doubts that there's no room left for another marketing agency in this world, something changes my mind. Today, it was a video from the US Embassy in London.
Before you watch, things to keep in mind:
This is an OFFICIAL video, from the US Embassy in London's OFFICIAL YouTube channel.
The video is only 4 years old.
This is the embassy that recently commissioned an artist to design a hideous $1 million granite sculpture to be displayed in the building. So, they're not necessarily on a tight budget.
Yeeesh. I've always wondered how many record scratch sound effects are too many, and now I have my answer.
US State Department, if you're reading this, please let me produce your next video. I'm a whiz with iMovie (proof), and I'll probably charge you less than half what you paid for this steaming turd.
In other news, today I:
Walked to the Kenmore Starbucks and worked on the website for an upcoming business venture with my sistahs.
Bought healthcare. The lady from WA Healthplanfinder was nice and helpful, so maybe the government isn't all that bad. However, whoever signed off on 'Healthplanfinder' as one word needs to be fired.
Got new running shoes in the mail.
Ate dinner at Kid Valley with my parents. We admired the view of Kenmore Premix and agreed that it's actually kind of cool, in a vintage, industrial sort of way. The city has promised us a fancy Kirkland-style waterfront for years now, but let's ask ourselves: are we really prepared to see the Premix go?
Peace be with you,
Margaret
P.S. Thanks Andy for sending me the video.
P.P.S. Just watched the video for a fifth time, and I think I like it now. I'm rooting for the poor guy. And I'm right there with him when he does the "YES!" arms in the air thing. GREAT video. Love it.
When I first met Andy I remember him boasting, "I've never once untagged myself in a Facebook photo, no matter how unflattering."
I must admit, it was that bold chat that lured me in. I mean, what a way to live your life! Leaving all the bad-angle, double chin, lazy eye, fat arm snaps out on display for the world to see.
Unlike Andy, I've untagged myself a few times. I don't untag anymore, but I did back in the day. Still, I've left enough cringetastic gems in there to keep things interesting.
Today I took a stroll down Facebook memory lane and I came across one particularly hilarious photo. It's not the photo so much that's funny, but the stuff around it. There were three elements that made me guffaw. I've circled them in red.
Speaking of Facebook, did you hear that you can now select a person to take control of your account when you die? I'm currently accepting applications. I can't choose Andy because he will definitely use it as an opportunity to prank me posthumously. He'll change my status to "greetings from the grave" or something.
Whichever candidate I choose, your first job is to turn my all my Facebook activity over the years into a hardback book to be preserved in The Library of Congress until the end of time. Your second job is to delete my account so that it can't be used as a shrine (kind of like with Osama).
Is there such a thing as a "good cry"? Andy would argue no, but I've always loved crying.
As a kid, I would spend hours in front of the mirror contorting my splotchy face into the saddest possible expressions. The tears would start in earnest—maybe I was reprimanded for something or in a fight with a sibling—but after a few minutes of genuine crying, I would double-down with a solid half hour of wailing.
I loved everything about those crying sessions. I loved thinking about how guilty the culprit must feel listening to my sobs echo down the hall. I loved the taste of my salty tears, which I'd attack with my tongue like a frog catching a fly. But mostly I loved the sympathy I got from myself. Nobody could feel sorrier for me than me. I was my own best friend, always there when my reflection needed me.
Now I'm an adult and I've put those days of unabashed self-pity behind me. But when the moment strikes, be it a stubbed toe or sentimental TV advert, I can still enjoy a good cry. What can I say? It's a release!
Today, just after I grated this guy's brother.
Today, as I grated an onion for some fish curry, I felt heavy mascara tears stream down my face. My eyes stung bad and I ran to the bathroom to blot them with a hand towel.
But on my way there, I couldn't help but catch a glimpse of myself in the living room mirror. And then again in the hall. Of course, the bathroom mirror sits right next to the hand towels. It's practically unavoidable.
Nope, that's not (just) the nickname my future children will bestow upon me. It's (also) the name of the guy who manages the railway in Thomas & Friends.
What!? You might be asking yourself. Isn't that man's name Sir Topham Hatt?
Why, yes it is. Sir Topham Hatt is also his name. You see, the man goes by different names in different countries. In the UK, where Thomas the Tank Engine originated, he's The Fat Controller. In America, where fat people's feelings are protected under the Constitution, he's called Sir Topham Hatt.
I don't have a strong opinion on this. Of course, teaching kids that it's OK to call a man 'The Fat Controller' is potentially worrying. But part of me loves how antiquated and un-PC it is.
What I find troubling is the different status each name implies. The Fat Controller sounds like he's just some working class half-wit. An overworked, underpaid schlub in a borrowed, railway uniform top hat. Sir Topham Hatt, on the other hand, sounds like a boss. Not only does he own that top hat, but he's received a knighthood for Christ's sake!
So which is it? Who is this man? What's his IQ? What does he do for fun? On his lunch breaks, does he sit in his Hyundai Elantra, shovelling pies in his gob while playing Candy Crush on his phone? Or does he head to the country club for some venison and champagne with his pal Baron Bowham Tie?
I've only watched the show a few times when I was younger, so I don't have much insight into the man's personality. All I remember about Thomas & Friends was how creepy, yet appealing, the whole show was.
Don't you dare accuse me of not covering the hard-hitting news stories here on Madgespace. This one's hot off the press.
A french judge has just ruled that a couple can't name their newborn daughter Nutella.
Why?
Well, as the judge so matter-of-factly stated: it's "the trade name of a spread." You have a point there, judge. But on the other hand, Nutella actually sounds like a girl's name. It's not as crazy as naming your kid Kleenex or Nestle Tollhouse (although that does have a nice ring to it).
Thanks, Anna, for letting me use the torso of your child (without asking).
Here's the kicker. The parents didn't bother to show up at court! So guess what the judge did? He named the girl himself! He went with "Ella", which makes sense as a shortened version of Nutella. But he could have gone with 'Hazel' to keep a bit more with the theme. Or what about 'Nuttah', the traditional Native American name meaning 'my heart'? That would have worked too!
All I'm saying is this:
Nixing 'Nutella' as a baby name? I'm generally OK with the logic behind that.
Taking it upon yourself to pick a new name for the kid? I find that a little presumptuous. At least give the parents another chance at naming her. They can phone you with their second choice (they don't really need to be in court for that).
OK, that's all for today. Anyone else craving crêpes?
The thing about freelancing is, the longer you stay on a project, the more it starts to feel like a 'real job' and the closer you get to freaking out. I'm used to short projects. Write. Send. Edit. Send. Take a Real Housewives break. And then on to the next gig.
When I work on something that drags on and on, I get stressed and itchy.
Still, I do really like my non-job. Note: I didn't say I love it. I've always thought it's obnoxious when people say "I looooove my job". Love? Seriously? Only Beyonce gets to say that. The best us commoners can ask for is 'really like'.
Anyway, yes, I really like being a freelance writer. It sounds fake, like I'm just making something up while I look for a job. It's so mysterious. Freelance writer. What does that even mean? How does it work?
I like writing it down on my customs declaration card when I fly back into the UK. It makes the airport officials more skeptical of me, which makes me like it more. Like how Andy used to hold a calculator up to his ear while walking down the halls of his high school, just so he could be like - HA!' - when a teacher yelled at him for being on his phone.
Yeah, right. Where are the queues? Where are all the queueing people?
I don't buy it. This was staged. It's a staged image! STAGED.
So tomorrow when I crack open Google docs and get back to work, I'm going to remind myself that I LIKE my 'job'. You should too. Or if you don't like your job, apply for a new one. Sure, there's something to be said for character building. But you should only have 'character building' jobs when you're a teenager and don't know any better. If you're 25 or older and you don't like your job, find a new one.
Just look at these guys. Let them inspire you.
Wow! I'm preachy today. This is what happens when there's a giant, Oprah-sized hole in our daytime TV schedule.
Cheers,
Margaret
Source: Reddit
(Madgespace is becoming the new Buzzfeed, where I blatantly just share stuff from the front page of Reddit.)
I did it again. I said I would do a bunch of work that I didn't really have time for! It's all due tomorrow. Andy has agreed to help me because he's now contractually obligated to be nice to me until death do us part. But seriously, what a guy.
Anyway, I wish I could write more tonight. I have a lot on my mind. I've been going crazy thinking about the concept of free speech, boob sagging, Jamie Lynn Spears, The Golden Globes and the rise of wearable tech. Also, today on the way home, our bus had a staring competition with another bus in the lane next to us. We were stopped at a traffic light and everyone in their top deck just stared into our bus. We all stared back. None of us gave a rat's ass. It was fantastic.
Hopefully I'll get to all that important stuff soon, but in the meantime I thought I'd ask my girl Miss Teen South Carolina to fill in for me with a guest post.
Take it away girlfriend!
I personally believe that U.S. Americans are unable to do so because, um, some people out there in our nation don't have maps and uh, I believe that our, I, education like such as uh, South Africa, and uh, the Iraq, everywhere like such as, and I believe that they should, uhh, our education over here in the US should help the US, uh, should help South Africa, it should help the Iraq and the Asian countries so we will be able to build up our future, for us.
Thanks for that, MTSC. (Admit it, you were looking for an excuse to watch it again)
Today is a special day on Madgespace. For the first time in the blog's seven year history, I'm featuring a guest post. It's from none other than Max Kay, my brother and fellow member of M&M (our a cappella whistling band).
Today's contributor, Max Kay. You can follow him on Twitter at @kay_max.
Without further ado...
As a belated birthday present to my baby sis, I offered to write a guest post to help ease the burden of her Every Day For a Year streak. Think of it like a sitcom that offers a new episode only for it to be a clip show – it is still technically a new episode! Hopefully this will be slightly less disappointing than that.
When trying to come up with a pop culture subject with plenty of links to match the vibe of this space, I started thinking about how I got into late night talk show TV in college. Like millions who have come before and after me, by sophomore year I had learned to carefully arrange my class schedule to be as late in the day as possible. My friends and I stayed up to hang out and do not much of anything, and that involved watching hundreds of hours of Letterman and even Craig Kilborn, who we thought was the new face of comedy (we were dumb).
After I got a job that involved mornings (and Kilby fell off the face of the earth), I rarely watched any of the late night shows. Years went by and the comedy scene evolved.. sort of. We got the rise of Stewart and Colbert and the fake news format, groundbreaking shows from Chappelle and Louis CK, a new golden age of SNL, and we could watch pretty much anything else on YouTube. But the late night guys – Leno, Letterman, Kimmel, Conan, Ferguson – remained in the same format that had been invented before Johnny Carson over 50 years ago.
On the rare times when I did tune in, this always struck me as strange. Entertainment is always evolving to stay current and get ratings, and while networks continuously copy each other’s stuff they are at least changing formats every few years (see: rise of singing competitions, kitchen showdowns, CSI-type detective shows, and on and on). Late night talk shows have been the one constant – like baseball and saltine crackers, we can count on them to be what they have always been: curtain, monologue of seven jokes, introduce the band, desk, commercial, guest, commercial, musical guest, see you tomorrow night! It is basically the same show our grandparents watched.
So I was intrigued when I heard that Fallon’s 'Tonight Show' was bringing in more music elements in an effort to shake things up. Apparently it has been wildly successful, with the show pulling in almost as many viewers as Kimmel and Letterman combined. At the same time, 'Tonight' has smartly packaged many of its best segments to be re-watched on YouTube so millions more of us can catch the best bits.
My favorite of these are the Lip Sync Battles. Supposedly conceived by Stephen Merchant, John Krasinski and Emily Blunt, a Lip Sync Battle is a goofy competition where three people, in this case two guests plus Fallon, each lip sync two songs and we find out who is the best.
Why does this format work? A) lip syncing is funny, and b) some celebrities are really good at it.
Check out my favorite battle, which is Merchant + Fallon + Joseph Gordon Levitt (supposedly the first to be done on the show).
Great things about it:
1. Merchant coming out of nowhere. This originally aired in 2013 when most of us thought of him as a talented and witty guy that would always be in the shadow of Ricky Gervais. Writer, stand up, sitcom guy sure, but stage/dance?? He steps out and crushes his first number (to the point that Fallon seems genuinely surprised) and then beats it with his second number.
2. Fallon as host/performer. Fallon has to introduce/welcome both guys, perform himself (which he does well, just not as well as the other guys) and work the crowd all at once. Hard to think of anyone else who could pull this off.
3. Levitt is absolutely amazing. Merchant is so good that you think he has to win, but Levitt shows he has another level in him as a performer. No wonder SNL loves him as a host. How can someone actually be great at something so dumb as lip syncing?
To all of it I say kudos for getting guests to do something different that is live, funny, well-performed and entertaining. Best of all, you don’t even need to stay up late to see it.
Wonderful! Thanks for the update, Max. I loved hearing about the late night gatherings in the dorm, around what I presume was a huge square TV with a curved screen and an ass the size of Coco.
The TV Max and his dorm buddies watched Kilborn on. Look at the booty on that thing! Photo by High Contrast via Wikimedia Commons
Cheers, Margaret P.S. Yes, JGL is a pretty good lip syncer. But nothing compares to Dida Ritz lip syncing for her life in front of Ms. Natalie Cole herself on RuPaul's Drag Race. P.P.S. In the UK, they call lip syncing "miming".
No, I'm not talking about ending my year-28 challenge on Day 2 (give me some credit, guys). And I'm not talking about Kris and Bruce finally filing the papers.
As you've probably guessed, I'm talking about the Alaskan news anchor and owner of the Alaska Cannabis Club, Charlo Greene, who quit live on air a couple nights ago. With simple, yet elegant, "F*ck it, I quit" and a shrug, she sashayed away toward a new career in pot-rights activism. If only we could all be so selfless.
Let's remind ourselves of her grand act of civil disobedience, and of how funny it is when people swear on local news (exhibit A).
But before we give Charlo too much credit, let's remember those who paved the way for her epic exit. Yes, let's honour those who came before.
Steven Slater
"The diva quitter"
My favourite of all the quitters is former JetBlue flight attendant and ultimate stunt queen Steven Slater. The plane was taxi-ing at the gate. A lady was prematurely trying to get her hand luggage down from the overhead compartment. As he tried to get her to sit down, a suitcase fell and knocked him on the head. That's when he lost it, grabbed two beers from the fridge, released the emergency slide and slid down in a blaze of glory.
Just brilliant. The fact that anyone in a post 9/11 world would have the balls to do this restores my faith in humanity.
What tickles me so much about this story is Steven's particular breaking point. It happened after a small, but sudden, bit of physical pain. That's what I can relate to the most. We've all had those days. You're just managing to keep it together when BAM, you stub your toe and that's it, you unleash your inner beast.
Joey DeFrancesco
"The triumphant quitter"
Want to make something mundane feel glorious? Add a marching band. There's nothing a marching band can't make triumphant. Former Renaissance Providence Hotel employee Joey DeFrancesco understood this. He also knew that his time as an overworked room-service-monger was over.
This video makes the list mainly because of the look on boss Jared's face when Joey hands him his notice letter. It also helps that Joey is a bit of a JamesFranco/JohnMayer-style hunk.
Marina Shifrin
"The ironic quitter"
As a digital content creator myself (HA!), I completely get Marina's reason for quitting. She was working for a company that made online videos, but all her boss cared about was views, views, views (not necessarily the quality of the content). So, she decided to give her two weeks' notice using a medium her colleagues were familiar with: a viral video.
The irony is that Marina's video now has more than 18 million views, something her bosses could only dream of.
Ryan (surname unknown)
"The first time quitter"
When I found this on YouTube, I felt compelled to share it here. Sure, it might not match the grandeur of the disgruntled employees showcased above. But Ryan's decision to "resign" sends a message to 16-year-olds everywhere. It shows them how 20 seconds of uncomfortable conversation can lead to a lifetime of freedom.
Actually, you might be surprised just how many brilliant quitting videos I found online. Or, if you've ever had a bad job, then maybe you won't be surprised at all.
Here are some more quitting videos worth watching:
Boombox + partial striptease + Star Wars theme + Queen = I quit!
Vanilla Ice + dancing on the counter + I haven't really thought this out = I quit!
Radio DJ + 'Do It To It' by Cherish + $6/hour = I quit!
Star Wars credits + being creepy + naked dancing = I quit!
Warehouse intercom + bad sound quality + giggling cameraman = I quit!
I think I love all these people because we've all dreamt of quitting our jobs in the grandest, wittiest, most cutting ways possible. It's the stuff of movies (classic scene). It's a chance to stick it to the man and become an office legend at the same time. For decades, they'll talk about you around the watercooler. You'll be the best thing that ever happened to that place!
But then, we think rationally and settle on a typical "it's been a pleasure working here" notice letter.
What makes these folks so great is that they completely throw caution to the wind. They know there could be bad consequences (e.g. no reference for the next job, never getting a job again, etc.), but they plough forward anyway. Mad respect.
In other news:
Autumn — It's arrived. If you're American, you might know it better as 'Fall'.
Boardwalk Empire — Final season. So far, so good. Glad I stuck with the show. It's fantastic.
We didn't have any food in the flat this morning. I kept meaning to 'nip down to the shop' (American English translation: 'pop out to the store'), but I got caught up in work and the thought of putting shoes on seemed like an enormous effort.
So, I kept working, staying as still as possible to conserve my energy and ignoring the deafening growls of my stomach. It wasn't until 1pm that I finally made the ten minute walk up to Sainsbury's.
I giddily grabbed an almond croissant from the bakery. STILL WARM. Couldn't believe my luck. Thinking ahead, I grabbed lunch stuff and dinner stuff - what a savvy shopper I am.
Satisfied, I hit up the self-scanner (human interaction? Nein, danke.) and successfully made it to the payment step without a single 'unexpected item in bagging area' taunt.
'Finish and Pay' - yep!
'Pay with Card' - yep!
'Insert card into the card reader' - you got it!
'Insert your pin number' - um, hmmm.
Huh.
Let me see.
Nope. Don't know it. I know the numbers, but only three of them and I forget the order. How can this be? I've had the pin for four years and I use the card nearly every day.
I had a go at guessing the pin, until the machine told me it'd had enough of my foolery. Tail between my legs, I went over to the human cashier and spilled the beans. I explained that my mind had gone blank and asked if I could put my groceries behind the till while I ran home to get my other card. The man gave me a nice 'it happens more than you think, kiddo' look and said 'of course.'
What's the moral of this story? No, I am asking you. I really don't know what to think! Am I losing my mind? Was this a bizarre result of my malnourished morning? I'm still not quite sure of my pin. I think I know it now, but the events of earlier today really knocked my confidence.
Aliment Two: Beard Eye
In addition to my mental illness, I am suffering from a bad case of beard eye. What's beard eye? It's when your boyfriend's beard scratches the surface of your eye. Not the lid! The actual eyeball.
Little has been said about the dangers of 'dancing cheek to cheek' with a tall, whisker-faced man. Yet this morning my right eye got a beardfull, and it's still stinging now - 10 hours later!
Five o'clock shadow? More like five o'clock shad - OW!
So, Tesco was supposed to deliver a bag of Quorn meatless meatballs (bee-tea-dub, 'meatless meatballs' is my new favourite word combo) with our grocery order. I've been craving them ever since Char wrote a blog post about them. Carnivores, scoff all you want - at least it's not horse, you pony killers!
Am I upset? HELLZ to the no. I love pizza. Sadly, Tesco knows me better than I know myself. I didn't want meatless meatballs after all - it was mini pizzas I wanted all along.
They are cooking as I type this.
Ugh, but the pan on the bottom rack of the oven smells like burning salmon because we didn't clean it from last night.
