Monday, February 21, 2005

good god amighty!!!

I am writing my first ever post from my newly modernized apartment. Yes, I finally have DSL. I was so excited getting the box, it was like Christmas... in Meheeco. Because all the damned directions were in espanol. Fuckers. (ooh, $13.75)

And then I found out the only phone jack in my ghetto apartment that functions is the one furthest from my desk... the one under my bed, crushed up against the far wall hidden behind 42 paintings, boxes of recipes and a case of trashy novels. So yes, I am writing this post from under my bed. One of the dust kittens just bared its teeth at me. Back mofo, or I'll pull out the new upright vac my parents gave me instead of the Japanamation iPod skin I asked for!

So anyway, now that I've had a total meltdown crying jag from drinking too much wine and translating Spanish... let me tell you about the interview I had with the sales dude at the tech company i'm trying to work for. The salary discussion was nerve wracking, and I should have just stolidly refused to discuss what I make now. Because it's bad. Anyway, he asked me a bunch of obnoxious questions about my five year plan (vomit) and what my first accomplishments would be if I came to work there. And I wanted to sound really aggressive and all "this job is mine" but I think I just sounded scared. I meet with the CEO and former marketing person this week, so maybe there's still a chance.

Ooh, unforeseen hazard of home internet... A.S. is wandering about and he's not allowed to read my blog, because then I couldn't bitch about stuff anymore. Post! POsT!

2 comments:

Elysia said...

Your comments about wine throughout your blog reminded me of one of my personal favorite red wine moments.... I have a best friend named Margie from South Africa. She came to this country to be an au pair (take care of strangers' rugrats in exchange for room and board) and the very first time I saw her, she was sitting in front of me in church (that was during my religious phase). I could only see the back of her head, but something told me "She's going to be my best friend". The church I went to was so small that anyone new stuck out like a sore thumb, which made things easy for the welcoming committee... Right about now you're wondering where the wine comes into this - well, Margs ended up hating the au pair thing, but she loved living in NY, so my very cool parents said, "Hey, why don't you live with us?" so she moved in. My mom is a nurse, and she used to go to bed around 10pm and get up at 6am. Yes, this is also vital information to the story. Margs and I bought a huge vat of cheap red Ernest & Julio Gallo wine (SEE? I TOLD YOU!) and some crackers and port wine (THERE IT IS AGAIN!) cheese, and we sat down across from each other at the dining room table at about 9:30 one night. We picked a topic, chose opposing sides of the coin, and began debating. This is something we often did for fun. Well, we were drinking wine and debating, and eating crackers and cheese. Mom said goodnight, and went to bed. We continued drinking wine, and debating, and eating crackers and cheese. Suddenly my mom comes wandering into the kitchen in her nightgown, rubbing her eyes. We look at her, we look at each other. We look at the nearly empty vat of red wine, and the red stain on the lace tablecloth. We look at the clock. Holy shit, it's 6am! Holy shit, we're drunk and my mom is going to kill us! Holy shit, who cares? So Mom brings her boiled egg and toast over to the table to eat breakfast, and I carefully position my right elbow over the wine stain on the tablecloth, and we both try to carry on a straight conversation with her, hoping against hope that her early-morning fuzzy-headedness covers up her radar skills. I think, looking back on it, that she just bit her lip to keep from laughing at our attempts, and went on to work. Margie and I followed her to the front door, waved goodbye as she pulled out of the driveway, and then we fell on the floor of the den, rolling around and holding our wine-skin stomachs and laughing until we cried. Then one of us grabbed my dad's motorcycle helmet and put it on, and we were lost. The most popular song on the radio just then was "Red, Red Wine"... and that's it, that's my favorite red wine memory. Every time I hear that song, I think of that day.

Jemima said...

Ha! I love it! You know your mom was craking up at your two the whole time. My dad used to be a game warden, and he busted my friends and me a few times staggering up the stairs to bed. He usually just rolled his eyes and shut the door. Are you still friends with the South African girl? I lived there for a year and LOVED it there- I still miss it. You should go visit her if she's moved home.