Archive | February, 2011

Can’t get you outta my head

2 Feb

Don’t you hate that person next to you in the gym who sings out loud?  You know, they just sing snippets of whatever song is on their iPod?  Then for the rest of the day you can’t figure out why you can’t get Katy Perry out of your head?  Well, today my friends, that person was me.  It couldn’t be helped.  I was taking a walk to and just could not help myself.

The songs I sang were:

Over the Rhine – Suitcase

Spring Awakening – Totally F*cked

and Panic at the Disco – The Only Difference Between Martyrdom and Suicide is Press Coverage

Random?  Yep.  But, that’s just the way it is. I’m sure I looked completely ridiculous, but hey whatever keeps the crazies away.  You know who you are!

I see you! You are not easily hidden!

Daily Post 2011

What is the worst job you’ve ever had? What did you learn from it?

The worst job I’v ever had was working at a certain “breakfast” restaurant.  It was my summer job before going to college; I was a hostess.  It was just not fun.  Every night I had to deal with people who didn’t understand why I could seat their party of 8 when the restaurant was full.  Seriously, I could time this one group of people to come in every Sunday at the same exact time and get angry in the same amount of time.  It really gets to you or at least me.

More often than not I had to close.  This also was not fun.  I had to stay until closing even if no one was there.  Just because, “Ya never know.”  Then the stress of counting my draw.  This always freaked me out.  You would think it would be easy…  I think part of it was that I am horrible in math.  No really, I am AWFUL!  I was always afraid that I would count incorrectly or give away the wrong amount of change.

My worst fears were realized when one night I went back to count my drawer and my manager told me I was $1,000 dollars off!  I thought I was going to die right there or at least be arrested.  Thank goodness for me and my manager recounted my drawer and I was only off like a dollar.  Talk about miscalculations!

Never again will I work in the food industry.  Go to places involved in the food industry?  Absolutely.  I respect anyone who has enough patience to be a waitress, hostess, busboy, line cook etc.  It is just not the job for me.  I sometimes think I could be a chef and cook or bake in a restaurant, but I know that I would just flip out one day, screaming about wearing string bow ties leaving confused customers and raw pancake batter in my midst.

Let’s not go there, it can’t be good.  Not for anyone.

What was your worst job?


We’re gonna party like it’s 1994?

1 Feb

So I was perusing the other blogs I like to read and one site and had the topic of what she was like in 1994.  I love it when people post pictures of what they looked like long ago.  Mainly because I know I looked a mess.  A mess I tell you.

Photographic evidence…

Can you find me?  Probably not.  If you look directly below the guy who looks like he’s going to punch the lights out to the girl in the glasses, that’s me (I’m standing next to the girl with the short blond hair and glasses).

Long hair, bangs, yeppers, that’s me.  I am standing next to my bff at the time.  We were at Kings Island (Yeah Kings Island!) in Cincinnati singing at a choir competition.

Who were you back in 1994? What was happening in your life then?

Well, obviously I liked super long bangs and rocked a red sweatshirt with navy skirt like nobodies business.  In 1994, I was in sixth grade.  This was two years after my family moved from Michigan.  So, I wasn’t hating Ohio as much.  Sixth grade I played the flute and was in Rosedale Troubadours, hence the awesome red sweatshirts.  Junior high was the next grade so I was probably freaking out about that.

What else?  Oh!  I broke my arm rollerblading down my street.  That is not an experience I wish to relive.  The story is, I was rollerblading on the sidewalk.  I tried to Rollerblade over the open square in the sidewalk; which just so happened to be filled with rocks.  Why, you ask did I think I could Rollerblade over rocks?  I don’t know.  Rollerblading over rocks=rocks in between Rollerblade wheels=broken arm.  Long story short, it hurt A LOT and in the future I always jumped over that square.

There you have it.  Me in 1994.

In school news…

I had one of my first graders tell me that I dressed like a mayor today.  When I asked her what she meant, she told me it was because of my shirt, my “dark jeans” and high heels.  Because, according to her, “Girl mayors always wear high heels.”  So you tell me, do I look like a mayor?


Pensive political stare...?


Don’t mind the glare.  I’m wearing a blue button down shirt, grey pants, black cardigan and these fabulous shoes…

The shoes are by Eurosoft and they were so comfortable!  My feet didn’t hurt at all today.  Plus they are super cute.  If they make me look mayoral that’s a plus.  But, I wouldn’t take any political advice from me.

What were you like in 1994?

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