If you happen to run into the Job Fairy, could you tell her I need to see her?

I'm just going with a few random thoughts today...

Who's really the bad guy in "Lost?"

On toilet-training cats...what if they like to drink from the toilet?

I hope cranberry-pomegranate juice and detox tea can ward off a bladder infection, because I don't have health insurance. Oh, and can I still drink beer?

How the hell can I prove I'm worth hiring if I have so much trouble just navigating the damn job search websites?

And finally, today's featured job posting...an oportunity to "run off and join the circus," which I've joked about for years:

Magicians Assistant

Seeking female Magicians assistant. Must be 5 feet 7 inches or shorter, small or medium build. You will assist the magician on stage IE: Disappearing, cut in half etc. This is a once in a lifetime opportunity. This position requires being on tour. The magic show performs 5 days per week. You need to look good and be able to have fun on stage. We perform all over the country. You will see all kinds of venues. We have a lot of fun. We set up and tear down one time a week and travel one to two days per week to the next show. When the show is not being performed you will assist in caring for the baby tigers and other animals, waiting on customers and helping prepare the stage for the show.

This one is only slightly less demeaning than yesterday's ad (which I'm happy to say was flagged and removed), but it does involve playing with baby tigers!

(By the way, I found this in the non-profit jobs section.)

Clearly, in some small minds it's still a man's world.

I ran across this enticing ad on Craigslist this morning:

Office girl needed (Spanish?) (edmond)

Looking for a girl to ride in the truck and help with paperwork for construction company. Pay is 8 an hour under the table with meals included. We will be talking to customers so cute and neat appearance is necessary. If you are bilingual that is huge plus and more money can be negotiated. Please respond with a small bio about yourself. Looking to hire asap.

George

Dear George,

I hope you get busted for being stupid enough to advertise your tax evasion and discrimination policies. And good luck finding your eight-dollar whore...I hope she's worth every penny.

p.s. You're an asshole.

they haunt my dreams

I just spent a large part of my night chasing cats in my dreams.

All three of my boys were running loose...in crowds, in traffic, in buildings where they didn't belong. They knew I was after them and were defiantly avoiding me because the little mama's boys had suddenly discovered their wild sides.

I eventually managed to capture Buster on some stairs (he's not too bright and was easy to fool), and then I scruffed Pippy through a fence and desperately restrained him. Finally, I caught George sleeping and tackled him with my whole body.

Just when I had them all corralled, I turned around to find the door hanging open. And we were off again...

I woke up exhausted this morning. I'm almost convinced cats have a supernatural ability to invade the human mind...but why are they doing this to me?

success IS the only option, right?

I just sent resumes to three more places, one of which could be the job of my dreams. It's a large no-kill animal sanctuary in Edmond, OK, and I've been too nervous to contact them until now. Because if they don't want me, all my dreams could be smashed to pieces!

Okay, I know that's a bit dramatic. But I have been shaking ever since I hit the send button, and I needed to vent.

It's clear why I've put off looking for a job until now: it's highly nerve-wracking! But hopefully getting started was the hardest part; surely this won't be the death of me.

I need to stop reading so many books and other advice on cover letters and interviews...all the different (and sometimes conflicting) rules have me so overwhelmed I'm practicallly paralyzed. I think the only way I can survive this is to relax, be myself and kick ass in the way only I can.

Oh, I need a thrifting fix to calm my nerves...

I've been meaning to mention that Ryan recently started a blog...he may have gotten me hooked on thrifting, but I got him hooked on Starbucks and blogging!

I highly recommend a recent post in which he showcases a video I took of his cats, Perch and Mary Hartman. Included are a few samples of my wide range of giggling noises and, near the end, a demonstration of Perch's patented three-foot defense move. Note how Mary Hartman hardly moves during the whole encounter. At the end, I swear she's just messing with Perch's head...

And then there's the video of the delightful cell phone guy we saw working a street corner one weekend.

Show Ryan some blogger love if you get a chance, will you?

goodwill hunting

I have a new addiction: thrift store shopping. Lately I can't seem to go a day without it and, as I'm still unemployed, I have plenty of time. Ryan got me hooked, and he's been sharing all his knowledge about selling clothes on ebay. So that's what I do these days...I buy clothes I'll never wear and hope to make money selling them to someone who will. Hope is the operative word at this point...I have the shopping part pretty well figured out, but I have yet to make myself sit still and concentrate long enough to list some stuff on ebay.

Today, for some reason, was a great day. My thrifting ventures were fruitless, but the weather was gorgeous. The sun was shining, the sky was blue and the temp was mild. At one point I found myself driving around with the sunroof open, sipping Pepsi and eating beef jerky and singing along to a Toni Braxton song I'd forgotten ever existed. This was when I realized that-- without even leaving town--I had managed to step outside of the family stress and the unemployment angst and was feeling quite content.

I really need to get a job, though. The money will run out soon, and besides that I'm anxious to move to OKC so I can spend time with Ryan without abandoning my cats.

Tonight I applied for two jobs, and I have another one or two on deck for tomorrow. Let me tell you, openings for cat wrangling gigs are few and far between!

But, as Eminem says, success is my only motherfucking option.

Otherwise, I have to keep living with my parents.

I finally broke down and emailed my sister over the weekend, and she responded with a stream of nonsense that somehow nearly convinced me I'm the crazy one. That's what she does, and that's why it's pointless to argue with her. It's also why she'll probably be a decent lawyer.

She did admit to being belligerent and offered a feeble apology, but that was buried in a bunch of accusations that I am hateful and resentful and that my lack of excitement about her wedding makes her uncomfortable. Whatever.

It all just proves my sister doesn't know me at all...not only did she have NO CLUE (nor did she ask) what I thought about anything the day she went off the deep end, but she's also surprised that I'm not excited about a wedding. Since when do I get excited about weddings?

So I guess she wins...if it's possible for anyone to win here. She's too stubborn and out of touch for me to get through to her, and I don't want to let this crap interfere with her wedding or ruin what little bit of a relationship we have.

But, God help me, I've got to move out of here before she graduates, because I think she's planning to live at my parents' house for the month leading up to the wedding!

My Happy Place

Ah, being 100 miles away from my family (and right next to my man) does wonders for my soul. I woke early this morning to find my left leg pinned down by orange tabbies--one between my knees and one at my left side. I'm insanely fond of orange tabbies in general, and I adore Perch and Mary Hartman in particular...so I took their cuddling as an omen that this will be a good day.

So far I've showered, done two loads of laundry, paid my bills and put together a rolling clothes rack for Ryan.

People, I normally haven't even brushed my teeth by this time of day.

I'm still mad at my sister, and she still hasn't called with the apology I know I won't get. Until I hear otherwise, I'm going on the assumption that I'm still out of the wedding, and I'm not concerning myself with any of the planning. I'm damn sure not cramming myself into any more dresses or contraptions that go under them!

I don't think she has any idea how hurt I am, or that I didn't have the evil intentions she attributed to me the other day. I should try to explain eventually, but I'm kind of waiting for her to initiate contact. And I don't want an explanation of why she acted like such a psycho; I want an apology.

I know I'm being stubborn, and a part of me does want to make up with her just because her wedding's involved and I don't want a big fight to mar the memory of it. But she went too far this time, and all I can think about is a lifetime of similar events leading up to this one. I don't want to punish her, but I don't want to deal with her right now either.

Anyway, that's all a hundred miles away right now. The weather is beautiful, I'm caffeinated and Ryan is on his way home from work.

It's a good day.

More Whining

I feel like I've been through a breakup. It seems like nearly everything I look at reminds me of something that makes me sad.

When I got up this morning and went downstairs, my mom was on the phone with one of the ladies helping with the wedding planning. No definite resolution yet on the dresses, apparently...and I don't know if it matters as far as I'm concerned anyway.

My mom and I discussed undergarment options, body parts*, tattoos** and other supposed dress-fitting matters, and she said "I think you'll need to have your dress hemmed."

A painful silence followed, until my mom finally said the words.

"...If you're still in the wedding."

This event is definitely going down in family history, and there may be a never-ending debate as to whether or not I'm a diva who made choosing the bridesmaids' dresses impossible. This is so much worse than the time my sister punched me because I caught the bouquet at my cousin's wedding.***



*It would seem we're expected to hide our "girls" as if we're ashamed of them, but some of us bustier girls know they can't be hidden and are happy to work with what we've got. No shame there. I mean, what are we supposed to do, cut them off? Shi-it.

**See above, minus Mother Nature's role in creating this particular asset.

***I did catch it, but she claims I took it from her.

Hanging in Limbo

I think I have some sort of PTSD.

I've calmed down since my last post, but it doesn't feel any better. I'm really upset that my sister's upset. This is where the guilt tries to kick in and make me wonder if I could have been a tad more compassionate or something.

After all, the girl's under major stress. She's trying to finish her last semester of college, get into law school, plan a wedding and hold down a job plus several baby-sitting gigs. She's trying to do too much, and it's no wonder she freaked out.

But it's still not my fault, and there's not a lot I can do about it. I suppose I could swallow my pride and call to see if she's okay. But I'm not ready for that yet.

Ryan is so great to talk to about these things, and not just because he always takes my side. I got all mushy talking to him on the phone earlier...he was having a stressful day too, and he kept it to himself for a while because I needed his rational voice. But I could hear the weariness, and I was relieved when he unloaded too. We have a way of talking things through--on both sides--that I've never experienced before.

I suppose it's a little early to say we never fight...but we certainly communicate well.

Tonight, as usual, I'm finding it hard to focus on job-related things. I'm accepting that my family's immediate proximity is simply not good for the job-hunter in me. If it's not one of my parents shaming me, it's one of my nephews tempting me to play, or some other family affair that I'm all too quick to jump into. I need to get a little distance between them and me.

I want to run away, and that's all I can think about tonight. I miss Ryan, and I want to go cry on his shoulder. But something won't let me go just yet.

I'll see him in a couple of days, but in the mean time I need to work within the current circumstances instead of hiding from them. Running away can only prolong this state of limbo I'm in.

Bridezilla Lives

WARNING: THE FOLLOWING POST CONTAINS SUPERFICIAL TOPICS AND EXCESSIVE FAMILY DRAMA.

I'd heard of the bridezilla phenomenon before, and I believed it was possible...but somehow I never thought it would affect me.

Alas, my sister has lost every last shred of her sanity, and we've just had a family meltdown that started at David's Bridal and ended in my parents' living room. All over bridesmaid dresses!

She's always been this way--prone to hysteria and out-of-control drama. And she's always viciously resented me for being the older sister (the older sister, I might add, who always got stuck babysitting her mean little ass). So naturally, everything that went wrong today was somehow my fault.

We were making final decisions on the dresses; I was the last one to try them on, and it took me a few tries to get the exact size and style that worked for me. That's when my mom decided to tell my sister that she and several other ladies (none of whom are bridesmaids) were concerned about the clingy fabric.

My sister didn't freak out immediately, just seemed to start considering other options. She had to leave to run a quick errand, so I scrambled around looking for similar dresses and tried them on as fast as I could while she was gone. My plan was to present her with some options when she returned. But instead, to my dismay, she came at me with another armful of dresses. I was exhausted by this time, and I could see my sister getting into that state of mind where she can't be reasoned with.

About this time my mom had to run home to meet my grandma's nurse, so she left us at the store with no car. She was hesitant to leave, but she had to. And I couldn't go because I was up to my neck in taffeta. I asked her to come back as soon as possible.

I tried to talk to my sister about the dresses I'd picked out, and she wouldn't listen. So I told her I couldn't talk to her when she was upset, that I was really tired, and that we should do this later.

She insisted that we were going to make a decision then and there, and I calmly told her I was through trying on dresses. She asked me why I couldn't just go along with the dress she had chosen, and I reminded her I wasn't the one who had a problem with it. She asked why I was being so difficult, and I maintained that I hadn't done anything wrong. She said she didn't understand why I was being so bitchy, and I told her I was not going to argue with her. She declared me no longer a bridesmaid.

Then we sat, stewing, texting and waiting for my mom to return. The poor sales ladies went about their business, tip-toeing carefully around us. They were infinitely wise not to get involved.

I don't know how I kept my cool, but it worked so well I couldn't even get mad or cry after we got home. I locked myself in my room while my sister and my mom continued to argue...until my sister said "screw you..." and was told to leave.

I'm not trying to be a martyr here, but I'm recovering from some sort of stomach flu and don't have the strength to deal with this shit. And even if I did, my family is not capable of handling this kind of meltdown. They just feed off each other, getting madder and madder until they start saying things they don't mean and it gets really ugly.

I won't do that anymore. Not even when I'm at the top of my game.

I'm no saint, and I don't claim to be the perfect sister. But I am genuinely trying to help with this wedding and don't deserve the abuse. This is the second time in two weeks my sister has called me some variation of "bitch," and I don't care how stressful weddings are; that's out of line.

If she wants to talk to me after she calms down, I'll talk to her--if I'm ready.

But I won't fight.

a little advice for bridesmaids

It's never a good idea to go shopping for a bridesmaid dress alone.

It may seem like a good idea, especially if your sister (the bride) is driving you crazy, your mom is worried that the most recently selected dress is too clingy for the girls with hips and boobs, and you just want to prepare for the next fitting by trying on one or two dresses in peace and quiet.

But it's not a good idea.

Because the sales girl might stick you in a fitting room with no mirror inside, requiring you to step outside before the damn dress is fully zipped and before you're even sure whether your boobs are sufficiently contained.

And there might be a guy sitting right across from your fitting room, talking loudly to his girlfriend in another fitting room but also keeping an eye out for whatever there is to see.

The sales girl might hand you one of those nifty squeeze-in-your-stomach and push-your-boobs-up bra-things and say "Let me know if you need help with that" just before disappearing.

There's no maybe about it: you can't put one of those things on by yourself. It's not humanly possible.

Besides, the guy outside your fitting room might have perked up and listened a little too eagerly when the sales girl asked for your bra size, causing you to get a little flustered and accidentally request a smaller size than you actually need.

And you might not be able to ask for help with the bra-thing, because you might already be undressed and if you so much as crack the fitting room door, that guy across from you might see everything your mama gave you.

And the sales girl might not to come back to check on you at all.

In the end, you'll realize that you need your sister, who's become an expert at cramming girls into dresses. And trust me, all the cramming is worth it in the end.

I'm just sayin'.