thank you , justin timberlake, for bringing sexy back. i guess i just didn’t realize how much i had missed it. and now that its back in my life, i frankly don’t know how i lived without it for so long. i rejoice in the fact that i can finally put a name to that hole i had in my heart for years. and i have you, jt, to thank for this sweet relief.
i think i speak for the entire world when i say this to sexy: welcome back, old friend. welcome back.
i think i am going to lay off the job search for a while, even though it might seem premature to give up after 1.25 interviews.
it all started last week, when i got a call from a small but up & coming architectural firm downtown. granted, the part time position was mainly for office work, but they specifically requested a design student so i guess i got my hopes up.
inevitably, and despite having a nav system, i got lost searching for their downtown office. i have come to take this as a bad sign, but more about that later. the nav system doesn’t know much about the one way streets, massive construction and lack of parking spaces that make downtown los angeles the logistical nightmare that it is. and no number of uber-cool rooftop bars will change that.
i parked a few blocks away and hiked to the run down abandoned-looking building that housed my perspective new employer. during my trek, i endured a few lurid looks and honks from dirty brown men in vans peeling out in front of me, and am pretty sure some tumbleweed rolled by at some point.
the inside of the building didn’t seem to offer much more comfort, unless you find consolation in dark, empty halls that smell like pee.
i wish this story had a better ending, but it just does not. the interview hit its high point when the 22 year old who was, for some strange reason, conducting interviews, pointed to a pile of boxes. she then told me, with a giggle, that the principal told her to make sure she hired someone strong so he wouldn’t have to help them carry boxes. nice one.
i somehow stifled the urge to ask her precisely what it was about me and my james perse dress that told her that i would be a good candidate for heavy lifting.
so that was it for interview number one. as for interview number .25, it pretty much starts the same way as the first one, except i never actually made it to the office. this is because their website lists a previous address of theirs, which is where i first reported for the interview. but it was in a crappy area, so i was somewhat relieved to discover they had moved.
when i drove to the new place, i found it had bars on the windows. so i high tailed it outta there. didn’t even go in.
here is what it boils down to: i cant do bars on windows. i cant do heavy lifting. i can’t be supervised by giggly 22 year olds. and apparently my parameters are a bit too strict for this town, so i will be dedicating all my time to my studies & my social life for the time being. gotta go fiddle with cad.
i survived another trip to costco, but barely. this time i witnessed no one trying to milk the already generous costco system. instead, i saw something worse: a guy in a kilt paired with dirty old white sneakers.
i thought i had left the not-at-all-scottish-guy-in-a-kilt-and-sneakers thing in seattle. for in a city with a reputation for harboring poor dressers, its almost expected. (for those of you who don’t know, seattlites are famous for doing terminally uncool things like wearing gortex to the opera.)
as far as i am concerned, kilts are supposed to be worn with stuff i can’t pronounce, like sporrans and sgian dubhs and ghillie brogues and dirks. and they should, in this girl’s opinion, be accompanied with a scottish accent of some sort. even if its fake.
i don’t walk around wearing a tiara with sweats, do i? no, i dont. so please stop polluting my already unbearable membership warehouse club chain experience with your ridiculous kilt antics. otherwise, i might be forced to look the other way when ewan mcgregor hunts you down and kicks the shit out of you. as he bloody well should.
i have to go to costco tomorrow. or, as i prefer to refer to it ‘hell on earth.’ full of people who won’t look you in the eye and seem bent on plowing over your flip-flopped feet with their carts. the home of “every man for himself.” as i write my list just like a grown up, my dread experiences a growth spurt. positively every time i go, i ban the place forever.
like last time, when i happened upon an older woman unscrewing the top of a twenty pound container of head and shoulders. upon closer inspection, i discovered that she was actually pouring extra shampoo from one bottle to another. seriously. the three year supply that she could barely lift into her cart was apparently not enough for this one.
i cannot believe how mad i got. its bad enough that i have to be in this hell hole in the first place, but now i have to be amongst cheesy thieves with dandruff.
i narced on her, and i am happy i did. makes me feel a sense of duty toward this place that so perfectly represents the greed and excess of america.
so tomorrow i will return to the shampoo aisle with a new sense of purpose. they need me there. america needs me. i am even toying with the idea of painting my face black and slipping on the camouflage. you know, just to step it up a bit.
i have managed to maintain my burning appreciation for being back in los angeles for the past 6 months. but some small pangs have been sneaking in when both rob and i think of seattle. a few weeks ago, our sweet, wonderful seattle neighbor passed away after an eight year on-and-off battle with cancer. karin and richard were the very last people we saw when we left seattle in early march. in fact, the very night the movers left with our furniture, they knew how exhausted we would be, so they invited us over for dinner before we began the drive back to our new/old lives.
when we were packing boxes that day, rob looked over from our living room into their kitchen, and remarked that karin had been cooking for us all day. with all the misery the cancer was inflicting, she took an entire day and cooked for us; an amazing 3- course meal, and homemade pie for dessert. when we were driving off, she handed us the remainder of the pie. that was the last time we saw her. she probably had no idea what her kind gesture meant to us. for months, we had seen seattle as a lonely, cold place, but that night made me wonder why the hell we were leaving.
i have thought, over the past few weeks since she has passed, that this woman spent an entire day of her very limited time on earth preparing a feast for a couple of people she had known for only a short while. a proper send off for us has turned into the day i look back to most as i mourn for such a sweet soul.
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