473. It's the number I used when I exaggerate..."I just worked 473 hours" or "Why does that person have 473 children?" 473. Also the number of people who have viewed me on match.com. How many people have I been on a date with? Well, this time? 4. How many people have I been on a 2nd date with? 1. Is it me, or do my odds suck?
I'll admit...I haven't always been so open. My mom would say I'm picky...that I'll find something wrong with everyone. And in the past, I suppose she was right. If you had abnormally small hands, or laughed like a hyena, I probably would have broken up with you by date 3. If you didn't laugh at my jokes, or sent an email with a spelling error, probably date 2 would have been cut short. Now though, it seems so much easier to call it quits on date 1, and I promise its not because I'm being picky.
My new rules are simple. Talk. Like, hold a conversation. If I leave feeling like I spent an evening with myself, then next time, I'll just do that. And if you have trouble with this task, let's go somewhere more entertaining than Chili's.
Next, don't black out. Drinking a case of Miller Lite (out of cans) at the bar is NOT a good first impression. If you can't remember the date tomorrow, then my guess it was as much of a waste of time for you as it was for me. At least, that's what I'm lead to believe until the text about how much fun you had (even though you forgot the 2 shots of vodka you downed) and can't wait to see me again. I mean...???
Third, don't be a douchebag and order for me and then expect me to pay half the check at the end of the night. Now don't get me wrong, I ALWAYS offer, and sometimes mean it. But first, let me offer before you pull out your TI-83 to calculate "splitsies", and if you do expect me to go dutch on the check of food I didn't want, don't call me the next day telling me how much fun you had, because you could have fooled me when you made me pay for your bad choice in wine and dessert.
This year I met two people I considered dating longer than 2 date term. Both times, my dream at a casual relationship was shattered by the pressure to commit after reaching the 6 hour mark of spending time together. The first time, I was confronted for not acting "into him" enough. Most recently, I've been asked to have "an honest moment" to talk about our feelings, and to lay down the terms of our, and I quote, "relationship." I thought girls were supposed to be the pushy ones? The ones who rush things? Instead, I seem to find the only 2 people online who feel the need to claim you as their own after a sushi dinner and Muppet movie. W. T. F.
Wednesday, December 14, 2011
Monday, October 3, 2011
Interviewing 101: 10 Things To Avoid
#1 In your cover letter, use spell check. And, while declaring your interest in the job "oppertuneity" make sure you spell the name of the company you're applying to correctly.
#2 When requesting applications...look the part of a professional. Do not wear lounge pants with "PINK" across your ass. Unless, of course, you are applying to Victoria's Secret. They may be flattered by your support.
#3 When asked why you left a prior job on your application, do not write "problems dealing with authority."
#4 While going door to door collecting applications from, well, everywhere, hide the other 72 applications somewhere besides your other hand. And, when asked why you want to work there, do not say "I just need a job. Anywhere." And definitely do not follow it by saying "I just need something for a few months until I find a job in the field I really want to work in."
#5 When asked why you left a prior job during an interview, do not say "I'm being sued for sexual harassment." And if you do say it, please...do not mean it.
#6 If your head itches, do not smack it while applying for a job at a store that sells hair products. I do not know how to reiterate this enough.
#7 If for some reason, you decide to work in retail...do not list your hours of availability as M-F, 9-5pm. Ain't gonna happen. Ever. Never ever.
#8 An interview is not a date. This means, do not flirt. And, no, you cannot have my number if this "job thing" doesn't work out.
#9 Leave your friends at home when you go to an interview. Or at least in the car. This is not a party.
#10 Do not NOT show up to your interview, then call days later (and try to reschedule) because your boyfriend was in a knife fight last night and you didn't want to miss visiting hours.
*All above tips based on actual events. Please, take them seriously as they will severely inhibit you from finding a job.
#2 When requesting applications...look the part of a professional. Do not wear lounge pants with "PINK" across your ass. Unless, of course, you are applying to Victoria's Secret. They may be flattered by your support.
#3 When asked why you left a prior job on your application, do not write "problems dealing with authority."
#4 While going door to door collecting applications from, well, everywhere, hide the other 72 applications somewhere besides your other hand. And, when asked why you want to work there, do not say "I just need a job. Anywhere." And definitely do not follow it by saying "I just need something for a few months until I find a job in the field I really want to work in."
#5 When asked why you left a prior job during an interview, do not say "I'm being sued for sexual harassment." And if you do say it, please...do not mean it.
#6 If your head itches, do not smack it while applying for a job at a store that sells hair products. I do not know how to reiterate this enough.
#7 If for some reason, you decide to work in retail...do not list your hours of availability as M-F, 9-5pm. Ain't gonna happen. Ever. Never ever.
#8 An interview is not a date. This means, do not flirt. And, no, you cannot have my number if this "job thing" doesn't work out.
#9 Leave your friends at home when you go to an interview. Or at least in the car. This is not a party.
#10 Do not NOT show up to your interview, then call days later (and try to reschedule) because your boyfriend was in a knife fight last night and you didn't want to miss visiting hours.
*All above tips based on actual events. Please, take them seriously as they will severely inhibit you from finding a job.
Sunday, October 2, 2011
A Brunette's Life
I think the reason I've stopped blogging is that my life has stopped being interesting. Ok fine...maybe jury duty and a perfectly peeled orange wasn't necessarily something you'd refer to as interesting...but it made me want to write. Now, the only things I'm remotely inspired to discuss are the only things I can't publish.
I thought about recreating my blog under a pen name...something with no link to me. But, a friend pointed out while debating starting her own mystery blog is that the people that read what I write are my friends. So, if I can't suggest it to my friends because I'm a ghost writer, how on earth do I score a reader? Clearly, most of the time, I'm not that riveting!
Then, I thought...throw caution to the wind, Shauna! Say what you want and deal with the aftermath later! Free yourself! But, as you know, confrontation and risk are hardly my forte, so...looks like we'll be hanging around here for a while. Luckily, Blogger has an app now so maybe the ability to blog on the go will help me stay focused? That said, if there are weird typos or spacing issues, this blog is via app so...testing and please forgive me.
Here's a quick catch up on life since my last entry...
I've rejoined match.com and jdate. Nothing positive on that news front. I think maybe I'll just start posting the ridiculous things I get in emails that men apparently think are cute/flattering/endearing. I'm sure you will all benefit much more than I do from them. Here's one of my recent...I am copying and pasting so all typos and misspellings are part of the real glory I received in my inbox...
"Hey pretty lady. You sound like a perfict match for me exept that your a Crapitals fan and that you a brunette. (yeah, I usually dig the blondes ;). But you're smile is so damn cute I had to shout you out. Drop me a line if you want a Pens jersey on me. LOL LOL. Oh, and Friends is the worst show ever."
I mean...??? That was a joke right? Compliment. Insult. Insult. Compliment. Insult. Insult. Yeah, that doesn't do well on my comparison chart at all.
Moving on. I was removed from an American Idol concert by 4 security guards in Atlantic City a few months ago. Apparently, paying $100+ for seats (don't judge me) and dancing don't go hand in hand. My vertical side swaying pissed people behind us off so much that they were scaling rows of chairs to try to knock me and friend over.
I'm 30 now. Or, 18 with 12 years experience as the candle my mom picked out for me proudly displayed. So now that I've grown out of my (very short lived) getting tossed out of a concert stage, I thought I'd learned my lesson that next time, I should perhaps buy lawn seats. Cheaper, more freedom, and more laid back people sit there. I was sure that would be the case! Wrong. Just a few nights ago, while having a low volumed conversation from my lawn chair, I got yelled at by a woman to shut up. Her yelling was louder than anything I said that night, and, I really felt like she should be much more concerned about her date who was sleeping (or dead) on a blanket next to her. Ugh.
My closet collapsed so I designed a custom closet that my dad built for me. I can't lie, it's pretty amazing. I (my dad) should probably go into business. California Closets For the Poor people. I think it has a ring! Wondering if I can post pictures from this app? Let's try...
What else? Well... yesterday I killed a spider. I also discovered a Pumpkin Spice flavored off brand Bailey's. Will let you know how it is.
That's all for now. I'll try to make my life more eventual or to think of something appropriate for all family and coworkers to read in the meantime. Goodnight!
I thought about recreating my blog under a pen name...something with no link to me. But, a friend pointed out while debating starting her own mystery blog is that the people that read what I write are my friends. So, if I can't suggest it to my friends because I'm a ghost writer, how on earth do I score a reader? Clearly, most of the time, I'm not that riveting!
Then, I thought...throw caution to the wind, Shauna! Say what you want and deal with the aftermath later! Free yourself! But, as you know, confrontation and risk are hardly my forte, so...looks like we'll be hanging around here for a while. Luckily, Blogger has an app now so maybe the ability to blog on the go will help me stay focused? That said, if there are weird typos or spacing issues, this blog is via app so...testing and please forgive me.
Here's a quick catch up on life since my last entry...
I've rejoined match.com and jdate. Nothing positive on that news front. I think maybe I'll just start posting the ridiculous things I get in emails that men apparently think are cute/flattering/endearing. I'm sure you will all benefit much more than I do from them. Here's one of my recent...I am copying and pasting so all typos and misspellings are part of the real glory I received in my inbox...
"Hey pretty lady. You sound like a perfict match for me exept that your a Crapitals fan and that you a brunette. (yeah, I usually dig the blondes ;). But you're smile is so damn cute I had to shout you out. Drop me a line if you want a Pens jersey on me. LOL LOL. Oh, and Friends is the worst show ever."
I mean...??? That was a joke right? Compliment. Insult. Insult. Compliment. Insult. Insult. Yeah, that doesn't do well on my comparison chart at all.
Moving on. I was removed from an American Idol concert by 4 security guards in Atlantic City a few months ago. Apparently, paying $100+ for seats (don't judge me) and dancing don't go hand in hand. My vertical side swaying pissed people behind us off so much that they were scaling rows of chairs to try to knock me and friend over.
I'm 30 now. Or, 18 with 12 years experience as the candle my mom picked out for me proudly displayed. So now that I've grown out of my (very short lived) getting tossed out of a concert stage, I thought I'd learned my lesson that next time, I should perhaps buy lawn seats. Cheaper, more freedom, and more laid back people sit there. I was sure that would be the case! Wrong. Just a few nights ago, while having a low volumed conversation from my lawn chair, I got yelled at by a woman to shut up. Her yelling was louder than anything I said that night, and, I really felt like she should be much more concerned about her date who was sleeping (or dead) on a blanket next to her. Ugh.
My closet collapsed so I designed a custom closet that my dad built for me. I can't lie, it's pretty amazing. I (my dad) should probably go into business. California Closets For the Poor people. I think it has a ring! Wondering if I can post pictures from this app? Let's try...
What else? Well... yesterday I killed a spider. I also discovered a Pumpkin Spice flavored off brand Bailey's. Will let you know how it is.
That's all for now. I'll try to make my life more eventual or to think of something appropriate for all family and coworkers to read in the meantime. Goodnight!
Thursday, June 2, 2011
There's Something About Mary
This past Monday, 4 of my closest friends went skydiving. Sadly, I had to work and could not complete my mission of remaining two feet on the ground, in charge of guarding purses, cameras and cell phones while they went forward with jumping out of a perfectly good plane from 14,000 feet in the air. I totally would have jumped. I just figured they'd be much more relaxed with their dive if they knew their personal belongings were secured. After all, they were so nervous, I wasn't sure they'd go through with it if I wasn't there cheering them on. From the ground. Safe and sound. But, yep definitely would have considered it otherwise. Might have thought about it. Potentially. If only I hadn't had to work. Or take care of personal belongings. Shucks. Thankfully though, even without my help, all 4 of them successfully completed their first (and hopefully last) skydive! But now it's my turn to be the dare-devil since I had to miss out on Monday...
On June 22, I will be traveling avec roommate to NYC. After 2 hours of Expedia, Skoosh, Travelocity, Hotels.com, and Hotwire-ing, we discovered this fancy little link called "unpublished rates". Basically, you pick an area and a star rating, and it gives you a special deep dark discount by allowing you to book a hotel without knowing the name until you confirm. Cool! Sounds like an adventure to me!
We may have been delirious, but after the hours of consistent $400 a night hotel options, the $225 option sounded like a dream. How bad could it be? It's in the area we wanted, it was close to our 3-star rating minimum (close, meaning 2.0) and it was such a steal! I like the mystery, I said. Do it, book it now, she said. And so I did. And so...we were sorry. Oh so very very sorry.
After coming so close to booking The New Yorker, and The Excelsior, where beds looked like giant pillows, and the decor delivered the sudden urge to go to Home Goods and redecorate, our undisclosed deal delivered The Days Hotel. Yep, a Days Inn. For a savings of a measly $100 total over 2 nights, we would be sleeping on cardboard boxes, and substituting sandpaper for carpet. Oh, and did I mention, the trip was non-refundable?
Panic set in. I've never laughed so hard or wanted to cry so much. What did we do? What were we thinking? And why on earth do we make decisions like this at 1am? Rage and panic settled in as I dialed the customer service number for Hotwire.com. I'm a salesperson damnit. I can convince them to cancel my reservation, right?
I first spoke with Sarah, who either transferred me because she couldn't understand me through my high-pitched anxiety ridden voice, or, because she couldn't handle telling me that there was nothing she could do. But I did not waiver. After 42 minutes of hold time, Mary picked up my call. And in the end, Mary refunded us our money. Mary is my hero.
Rumor has it that I'm not a risk taker. Or a thrill seeker. Or, adventurous. So what if I may not want to jump out of planes (solely because I'm just too good of a personal belonging watcher, of course), or off a bridge, or even book hotels blindly. I prefer to stay right where I am most useful and comfortable, on level ground, while occasionally taking trips to hotels that are nicer than my own house. I don't remember what I said to convince Mary to break the fully disclosed "no refund under any circumstance" rule for me, but I do know, I love Mary. And...that I could probably really sell ice to an Eskimo.
On June 22, I will be traveling avec roommate to NYC. After 2 hours of Expedia, Skoosh, Travelocity, Hotels.com, and Hotwire-ing, we discovered this fancy little link called "unpublished rates". Basically, you pick an area and a star rating, and it gives you a special deep dark discount by allowing you to book a hotel without knowing the name until you confirm. Cool! Sounds like an adventure to me!
We may have been delirious, but after the hours of consistent $400 a night hotel options, the $225 option sounded like a dream. How bad could it be? It's in the area we wanted, it was close to our 3-star rating minimum (close, meaning 2.0) and it was such a steal! I like the mystery, I said. Do it, book it now, she said. And so I did. And so...we were sorry. Oh so very very sorry.
After coming so close to booking The New Yorker, and The Excelsior, where beds looked like giant pillows, and the decor delivered the sudden urge to go to Home Goods and redecorate, our undisclosed deal delivered The Days Hotel. Yep, a Days Inn. For a savings of a measly $100 total over 2 nights, we would be sleeping on cardboard boxes, and substituting sandpaper for carpet. Oh, and did I mention, the trip was non-refundable?
Panic set in. I've never laughed so hard or wanted to cry so much. What did we do? What were we thinking? And why on earth do we make decisions like this at 1am? Rage and panic settled in as I dialed the customer service number for Hotwire.com. I'm a salesperson damnit. I can convince them to cancel my reservation, right?
I first spoke with Sarah, who either transferred me because she couldn't understand me through my high-pitched anxiety ridden voice, or, because she couldn't handle telling me that there was nothing she could do. But I did not waiver. After 42 minutes of hold time, Mary picked up my call. And in the end, Mary refunded us our money. Mary is my hero.
Rumor has it that I'm not a risk taker. Or a thrill seeker. Or, adventurous. So what if I may not want to jump out of planes (solely because I'm just too good of a personal belonging watcher, of course), or off a bridge, or even book hotels blindly. I prefer to stay right where I am most useful and comfortable, on level ground, while occasionally taking trips to hotels that are nicer than my own house. I don't remember what I said to convince Mary to break the fully disclosed "no refund under any circumstance" rule for me, but I do know, I love Mary. And...that I could probably really sell ice to an Eskimo.
Wednesday, May 11, 2011
Growing Up and Graying
When I was 15 it took me 15 minutes to do my makeup and hair, and not to flatter myself, but it was near perfect. Now, after a good 45 minutes with my professional grade hair dryer, top of the line straightener, complete system of hair product, 5 piece skin care system, spackle, and a drawer full of makeup...it's hardly an improvement.
At 18, dating was fun. No pressure, no one worrying (Mom) that they'd never have grandchildren, no one saying "I wish I had someone I could fix you up with." Now, friends and family are openly concerned about my singledom, and begin to frantically find and offer to pay for singles mixers in hopes of me finding my future husband.
When I was 21 I walked around in 4 inch heels everywhere. On my walk through Mt. Vernon from the parking lot to work, nights out at the local bar, dancing, dinner, or, just around my house. And other than that one time, I never (hardly ever) fell. Now, I trip up and down steps, fall into my house, slip at work, step on my own foot, etc, pretty much on daily basis. Sometimes more than once. Don't judge me.
When I was 23 I was still young enough to go out at 10, drink til 2, sleep 4 hours, wake up, and work as if nothing had happened. Now? I go out until 2, and the next morning I accidentally wash my hair with body wash instead of shampoo.
At 25 I loved to spend my money on things like makeup, shoes, bags, and jewelry. And now, as much as I love those things, I put them off in order to save money for my favorite time of the year, Dollar Days at my local liquor store, to ensure I can stock my wine cabinet enough to get me through 6 months until the next sale.
29. Oh, 29. I don't know how I got here but I sure am starting to feel it. The roots of my hair are growing in as a color I'd rather not mention, so clearly, I no longer color my hair just for fun. Instead of late night partying, I have a glass (bottle) of wine with my roommate, fall asleep watching DWTS, and wake up at 2am on the couch with whiplash from sleeping on the couch. Blind dates are no longer funny stories to entertain with at the Thanksgiving dinner table, but mere failure tales of a relationship that might have been. (Actually, my blind date stories are still pretty funny.)
Before 30, I'm rebelling against aging. I just may have to invest in collagen producing makeup and 5-hr energy shots before I hit the big nights out. Oh! And walk slowly and carefully in heels, because there's nothing worse than falling down the steps at a bar. Total buzz kill. So I've heard. Not from personal experience.
At 18, dating was fun. No pressure, no one worrying (Mom) that they'd never have grandchildren, no one saying "I wish I had someone I could fix you up with." Now, friends and family are openly concerned about my singledom, and begin to frantically find and offer to pay for singles mixers in hopes of me finding my future husband.
When I was 21 I walked around in 4 inch heels everywhere. On my walk through Mt. Vernon from the parking lot to work, nights out at the local bar, dancing, dinner, or, just around my house. And other than that one time, I never (hardly ever) fell. Now, I trip up and down steps, fall into my house, slip at work, step on my own foot, etc, pretty much on daily basis. Sometimes more than once. Don't judge me.
When I was 23 I was still young enough to go out at 10, drink til 2, sleep 4 hours, wake up, and work as if nothing had happened. Now? I go out until 2, and the next morning I accidentally wash my hair with body wash instead of shampoo.
At 25 I loved to spend my money on things like makeup, shoes, bags, and jewelry. And now, as much as I love those things, I put them off in order to save money for my favorite time of the year, Dollar Days at my local liquor store, to ensure I can stock my wine cabinet enough to get me through 6 months until the next sale.
29. Oh, 29. I don't know how I got here but I sure am starting to feel it. The roots of my hair are growing in as a color I'd rather not mention, so clearly, I no longer color my hair just for fun. Instead of late night partying, I have a glass (bottle) of wine with my roommate, fall asleep watching DWTS, and wake up at 2am on the couch with whiplash from sleeping on the couch. Blind dates are no longer funny stories to entertain with at the Thanksgiving dinner table, but mere failure tales of a relationship that might have been. (Actually, my blind date stories are still pretty funny.)
Before 30, I'm rebelling against aging. I just may have to invest in collagen producing makeup and 5-hr energy shots before I hit the big nights out. Oh! And walk slowly and carefully in heels, because there's nothing worse than falling down the steps at a bar. Total buzz kill. So I've heard. Not from personal experience.
Wednesday, February 23, 2011
A Little Bit of This, A Little Bit of That
Usually I rant on and on about one specific topic, but lately there are just too many things that are ridiculous. So, here we go...
Student drivers...This morning, the roads were icy and snow was blowing everywhere. I was impressed to see a student driver in the lane next to me on 695, hands clenched on the steering wheel, chugging along. I decided to be polite and let the little un-licensed driver change lanes and get in front of me. After all, I'm practicing getting better gas mileage in my new ride where the 8 cylinder Hemi engine is sucking my money straight into its gas tank. I was almost taken back to the days when I, myself, was learning to drive, parallel parking practice at Glyndon Elementary, when suddenly, my daydream was interrupted because I was blinded by 18 feet of snow flying off the top of the amateur's car, directly onto my windshield. Are you kidding me? Excuse Mr. Student Driver's Teacher, but don't you think in teaching a tiny teenager how to drive, it might be nice to mention the etiquette and safety behind cleaning off your damn car before putting your vehicle in motion?
Restaurant vacuums...You know the ones? They don't plug in, but they rub against the carpet in a friction-like manor and supposedly pick up crumbs? Well today, during my much needed break from work and near-death highway experiences, I got run over by one. I get the importance of maintaining a clean space for your customers but, I do not appreciate the carpet rubber running over my feet, twice, while trying to enjoy my greek salad.
The McRib...Have you seen the commercial? Can someone please tell me the marketing tactic behind really messy food and ugly actors? It's like the "Happy Anniversary" mole balloon all over again. And now there's some chipotle burger? I don't know about you but the image of some person biting into a ridiculous sized sandwich getting barbecue sauce all over his/her face does not make me want to rush to my nearest drive thru. Ever. Again. (In case you're wondering about the mole balloon...at my first job, we sold balloons. This one featured 2 moles (the animal, not the skin growth) sitting at a table drinking champagne, with the words "Happy Anniversary" scrolled above their heads. I mean...what on earth?!? Moles? Really?)
Comcast vs. Verizon...Am I the only person with the worst luck ever when it comes to home utilities? First I had the worst experience ever with Verizon, and now Comcast does its best to compete for the title. Both have managed to piss me off and make me wish I was smarter and richer so that I could come up with a competitor company. Customer service (and general common sense) is what they lack. Customer service is my specialty...my company would rock your digital world.
Match.com...Yes, I'm still talking about it. But I think the universe was telling me not to give up on it, as I was charged $65 for another 3 months even though I hold a cancellation confirmation from the week prior. Too bad for the universe that I was much more interested in my $65 than I was in another awkward dinner/movie outing with someone else's soulmate.
Dating cards...I may be free of match.com but I'm still being stalked for being single. Today's harassment supplied via email...a special offer from an online printer, offering "date cards." So, like a business card, only dumber. Name, phone, email and fax if you like. But instead of your business/job title? A dating headline. What's this you ask? Well, as per the example in the ad, "Lonely brunette, looking for love in 2011." I couldn't make this up if I tried. I considered, for a moment, ordering myself a box, only using a different headline. "Call me if it doesn't work out."
That's all for now.
Student drivers...This morning, the roads were icy and snow was blowing everywhere. I was impressed to see a student driver in the lane next to me on 695, hands clenched on the steering wheel, chugging along. I decided to be polite and let the little un-licensed driver change lanes and get in front of me. After all, I'm practicing getting better gas mileage in my new ride where the 8 cylinder Hemi engine is sucking my money straight into its gas tank. I was almost taken back to the days when I, myself, was learning to drive, parallel parking practice at Glyndon Elementary, when suddenly, my daydream was interrupted because I was blinded by 18 feet of snow flying off the top of the amateur's car, directly onto my windshield. Are you kidding me? Excuse Mr. Student Driver's Teacher, but don't you think in teaching a tiny teenager how to drive, it might be nice to mention the etiquette and safety behind cleaning off your damn car before putting your vehicle in motion?
Restaurant vacuums...You know the ones? They don't plug in, but they rub against the carpet in a friction-like manor and supposedly pick up crumbs? Well today, during my much needed break from work and near-death highway experiences, I got run over by one. I get the importance of maintaining a clean space for your customers but, I do not appreciate the carpet rubber running over my feet, twice, while trying to enjoy my greek salad.
The McRib...Have you seen the commercial? Can someone please tell me the marketing tactic behind really messy food and ugly actors? It's like the "Happy Anniversary" mole balloon all over again. And now there's some chipotle burger? I don't know about you but the image of some person biting into a ridiculous sized sandwich getting barbecue sauce all over his/her face does not make me want to rush to my nearest drive thru. Ever. Again. (In case you're wondering about the mole balloon...at my first job, we sold balloons. This one featured 2 moles (the animal, not the skin growth) sitting at a table drinking champagne, with the words "Happy Anniversary" scrolled above their heads. I mean...what on earth?!? Moles? Really?)
Comcast vs. Verizon...Am I the only person with the worst luck ever when it comes to home utilities? First I had the worst experience ever with Verizon, and now Comcast does its best to compete for the title. Both have managed to piss me off and make me wish I was smarter and richer so that I could come up with a competitor company. Customer service (and general common sense) is what they lack. Customer service is my specialty...my company would rock your digital world.
Match.com...Yes, I'm still talking about it. But I think the universe was telling me not to give up on it, as I was charged $65 for another 3 months even though I hold a cancellation confirmation from the week prior. Too bad for the universe that I was much more interested in my $65 than I was in another awkward dinner/movie outing with someone else's soulmate.
Dating cards...I may be free of match.com but I'm still being stalked for being single. Today's harassment supplied via email...a special offer from an online printer, offering "date cards." So, like a business card, only dumber. Name, phone, email and fax if you like. But instead of your business/job title? A dating headline. What's this you ask? Well, as per the example in the ad, "Lonely brunette, looking for love in 2011." I couldn't make this up if I tried. I considered, for a moment, ordering myself a box, only using a different headline. "Call me if it doesn't work out."
That's all for now.
Tuesday, January 25, 2011
Risk Nothing, Gain Nothing
I will not jump out of a plane or off a bridge. No need for me to soar like a kite over the ocean. No interest in putting my life savings on a roulette table, or even crossing the street without looking both ways. I am not risk taker. In fact, I might be the exact opposite.
Looking back, I can't really remember any risks I've taken. Except for maybe quitting my college backed career to pursue a childhood passion. Other than that, nada. I realize this is unfortunate.
Last week, I gave a woman with scissors in her hand full control, and she gave me bangs. If I had published this blog a week ago, I would have said it was the last risk I'd ever take. Day 1 went something like this. Got hair cut. Purchased a hat that the salon randomly was selling so that I could cover up the risk I'd just taken. Fell out of the salon by finding and stepping on the one remaining patch of ice in Maryland. Punched my finger through the side of my coffee cup during fall and was unable to save the remains. Sat in a Dunkin Donuts parking lot and stared at myself in my mirror. After deciding I was not ready for the world to see me, I went through the drive thru and got a new coffee. Drove to work. Sat in parking garage and stared at myself some more. Found lone bobby pin in my car and with some help with some serious Control Force hairspray, pinned bangs back to pretend they never existed. Got to work. Took my break and went to GNC and bought Biotin and Hair Skin and Nail Formula, suggested to make your hair grow faster. Bought purse pak of bobby pins and a few headbands. Returned to work. All in all, I think I handled it well.
The next few days were better. I fought the urge to shellac my hair back again and boldly sported my new bangs. At my mom's house the next night, my uncle asked me if I was wearing a wig. He then said "I mean, it looks like a good wig." My dad told me I shouldn't have cut my hair. My aunt stared at me for a good 5 minutes in silence, while deciding what she thought of it. Turns out, by the end of the night, she did.
Since then, I give the bangs a chance about every other day. And I have to say, I don't hate them as much as I did. They're growing on me. Ha! GROWING on me, get it!? Fine, moving on. Now some of you might be reading this thinking, really? She's making this big of a deal over a haircut? But, I'll have you know that not only did I take a real risk here, but a few years ago, after 8 inches got hacked off my hair, I locked myself in the work bathroom and cried. Then, I cancelled all plans I had for a week. I'd say I've come a long way in handling difficult situations!
My stylist said that she gives people bangs and they get boyfriends. Hmm, risk hair, gain a boyfriend? I don't want to ruin her reputation or anything, but my membership to match.com expires in 6 days. And considering that in 3 months I went on 2 dates, the chances are not good. I guess I'll have to start meeting people in real life. Bring it on bangs, bring it on...
Looking back, I can't really remember any risks I've taken. Except for maybe quitting my college backed career to pursue a childhood passion. Other than that, nada. I realize this is unfortunate.
Last week, I gave a woman with scissors in her hand full control, and she gave me bangs. If I had published this blog a week ago, I would have said it was the last risk I'd ever take. Day 1 went something like this. Got hair cut. Purchased a hat that the salon randomly was selling so that I could cover up the risk I'd just taken. Fell out of the salon by finding and stepping on the one remaining patch of ice in Maryland. Punched my finger through the side of my coffee cup during fall and was unable to save the remains. Sat in a Dunkin Donuts parking lot and stared at myself in my mirror. After deciding I was not ready for the world to see me, I went through the drive thru and got a new coffee. Drove to work. Sat in parking garage and stared at myself some more. Found lone bobby pin in my car and with some help with some serious Control Force hairspray, pinned bangs back to pretend they never existed. Got to work. Took my break and went to GNC and bought Biotin and Hair Skin and Nail Formula, suggested to make your hair grow faster. Bought purse pak of bobby pins and a few headbands. Returned to work. All in all, I think I handled it well.
The next few days were better. I fought the urge to shellac my hair back again and boldly sported my new bangs. At my mom's house the next night, my uncle asked me if I was wearing a wig. He then said "I mean, it looks like a good wig." My dad told me I shouldn't have cut my hair. My aunt stared at me for a good 5 minutes in silence, while deciding what she thought of it. Turns out, by the end of the night, she did.
Since then, I give the bangs a chance about every other day. And I have to say, I don't hate them as much as I did. They're growing on me. Ha! GROWING on me, get it!? Fine, moving on. Now some of you might be reading this thinking, really? She's making this big of a deal over a haircut? But, I'll have you know that not only did I take a real risk here, but a few years ago, after 8 inches got hacked off my hair, I locked myself in the work bathroom and cried. Then, I cancelled all plans I had for a week. I'd say I've come a long way in handling difficult situations!
My stylist said that she gives people bangs and they get boyfriends. Hmm, risk hair, gain a boyfriend? I don't want to ruin her reputation or anything, but my membership to match.com expires in 6 days. And considering that in 3 months I went on 2 dates, the chances are not good. I guess I'll have to start meeting people in real life. Bring it on bangs, bring it on...
Tuesday, January 11, 2011
What Women Want
On a daily basis, I'd say I'd have about...say...0 dating prospects come in to my life. I suppose it could be my field of work, the fact that my ripe old age of 29 prohibits me from my once ability to party hardy on a work night, or, that none of my friends are even attempting to set me up. After what I learned this week though, I don't really think it matters. It seems I don't have what men want...
Twice this week it happened. While on a less than salesy sales pitch (yes, I'm that good) a women says to me "I'm sorry, I am really not hearing anything you're saying to me right now because I can't stop looking into your eyes. They're mesmerizing." And the next day, in yet another similar situation, a different woman says "You're going to have to repeat that. I'm completely in awe of your perfect hair and nails. I can't stop staring." She then proceeded to awkwardly hold my hands as she examined them closer.
Now sure. I'm flattered to say the least...but really? I realize that hair and nails aren't necessarily the assets that men are struck by when a girl walks by. But I couldn't help but wonder as I watched the ridiculously pretty, overly endowed girls on The Bachelor tonight if that's really what most guys prefer. Pretty, yes. Some, strikingly beautiful. But, 98% of them are certified crazy.
One group date, and they're madly in love. They cat fight amongst themselves, tear up while watching other girls talk to "their man", and after just one week, full out cry when they get sent home. One girl tonight swore off dating simply because of the rejection she felt from this one guy who she really knew nothing about. If I were to pursue a guy so intensely so quickly, or, even text a guy after a date without following the 3 day rule, they'd probably run, screaming, for the hills. I'd be called needy, a stage 5 clinger, dependant, and annoying. Possibly even a stalker. But...low and behold, beloved Brad gave a rose to the most obvious needy, dependant, annoying, stage 5 clinger stalker.
The latest "prospect" I've had was a recently-fired-from-Safeway 19 year old boy at the gas station who wanted to "text my phone." And yes, the recently fired part was part of his intro. He wasn't even scared off when I told him I had a boyfriend, and insisted that it was no problem...we could just "start out" as friends. I think I'd be better off platonically accepting compliments from women, both who, by the way, bought everything I suggested. At least my well groomed dead cells are good for business...
Twice this week it happened. While on a less than salesy sales pitch (yes, I'm that good) a women says to me "I'm sorry, I am really not hearing anything you're saying to me right now because I can't stop looking into your eyes. They're mesmerizing." And the next day, in yet another similar situation, a different woman says "You're going to have to repeat that. I'm completely in awe of your perfect hair and nails. I can't stop staring." She then proceeded to awkwardly hold my hands as she examined them closer.
Now sure. I'm flattered to say the least...but really? I realize that hair and nails aren't necessarily the assets that men are struck by when a girl walks by. But I couldn't help but wonder as I watched the ridiculously pretty, overly endowed girls on The Bachelor tonight if that's really what most guys prefer. Pretty, yes. Some, strikingly beautiful. But, 98% of them are certified crazy.
One group date, and they're madly in love. They cat fight amongst themselves, tear up while watching other girls talk to "their man", and after just one week, full out cry when they get sent home. One girl tonight swore off dating simply because of the rejection she felt from this one guy who she really knew nothing about. If I were to pursue a guy so intensely so quickly, or, even text a guy after a date without following the 3 day rule, they'd probably run, screaming, for the hills. I'd be called needy, a stage 5 clinger, dependant, and annoying. Possibly even a stalker. But...low and behold, beloved Brad gave a rose to the most obvious needy, dependant, annoying, stage 5 clinger stalker.
The latest "prospect" I've had was a recently-fired-from-Safeway 19 year old boy at the gas station who wanted to "text my phone." And yes, the recently fired part was part of his intro. He wasn't even scared off when I told him I had a boyfriend, and insisted that it was no problem...we could just "start out" as friends. I think I'd be better off platonically accepting compliments from women, both who, by the way, bought everything I suggested. At least my well groomed dead cells are good for business...
Wednesday, January 5, 2011
Another 52 Weeks To A Better Me
As if in typical me fashion, I just wrote an entire blog about my journey of 2010 and commitment to the journey of 2011, and, while typing the very last sentence, deleted the entire thing. So, now I'm annoyed, but am fighting the urge to step away from the computer, and am devoting the next 20 minutes to rewriting the entire damn thing, even though its midnight and I should be sleeping.
So. Pretending the above never happened, here goes...
In December of 2009, I decided to take a 52 week journey to a better me. I decided to resolution weekly, finding faults in myself and devoting 7 days to changing each issue. I quickly realized 2 things. One, 52 things to change is a lot, even for someone as far from perfect as I am. And 2, most things I did need to change would take a lot more time than 7 days.
That said, I feel improved on the resolutions I did make. Write more. Well, I posted 34 more blog entries than I did in 2009. Success. Read more. After knocking out Jen Lancaster's "Bright Lights, Big Ass," I continued on to read 7 more books this year, thanks to my borrowed/permanently stolen mother's Kindle. Stop cancelling plans so much. Check! Manage money better, take more pictures...done and kinda done! I at least have some pics to prove my existence in 2010.
I also battled some other demons. For the first time in 5 years, I went on a few dates. Unsuccessful, but I went. I even rejoined match.com, which, well, no comment. Plus, on the pages that I'm not cursing at or criticizing, my latest book read, "Marry Him: The Case for Settling for Mr. Good Enough" by Lori Gottlieb, is teaching me to fight my natural urge to not want to meet new people, and, not give up on people with bad habits too quickly. For example, I now see why not pursuing someone with an annoying laugh or small hands is unacceptable and not a good reason to reject. And yes, I'm still single, but I'm much closer to not being in the dating dark than I was this time last year. WWLGD has been my new dating life slogan..."What would Lori Gottlieb do?"
A great end and a greater beginning...in accordance with my resolution of "go places, do things" New Years Eve was so much fun, and day 1 of 2011 even better, at, what my friends and I refer to as "game of life," the Winter Classic, where the Caps beat the Pens 3-1!
So no, 52 weeks to a better me didn't go quite as I'd hoped. But, nothing happens overnight (or in my case, 365 nights) right? So, here we go again. There will not be 52 resolutions this time, but there will be changes with realistic goals. My first task? A measurable one. In 2011, I will double the amount of posts from 2010. Goal: 72+.
Happy late New Year friends, family, and all of the secret readers I pretend to have. And, cheers to (another) 52 weeks to a better me! Hope you'll stick around, and, if I haven't been clear...post comments to prove that you did!
XOXO,
Gossip Girl (Fine. Shauna.)
So. Pretending the above never happened, here goes...
In December of 2009, I decided to take a 52 week journey to a better me. I decided to resolution weekly, finding faults in myself and devoting 7 days to changing each issue. I quickly realized 2 things. One, 52 things to change is a lot, even for someone as far from perfect as I am. And 2, most things I did need to change would take a lot more time than 7 days.
That said, I feel improved on the resolutions I did make. Write more. Well, I posted 34 more blog entries than I did in 2009. Success. Read more. After knocking out Jen Lancaster's "Bright Lights, Big Ass," I continued on to read 7 more books this year, thanks to my borrowed/permanently stolen mother's Kindle. Stop cancelling plans so much. Check! Manage money better, take more pictures...done and kinda done! I at least have some pics to prove my existence in 2010.
I also battled some other demons. For the first time in 5 years, I went on a few dates. Unsuccessful, but I went. I even rejoined match.com, which, well, no comment. Plus, on the pages that I'm not cursing at or criticizing, my latest book read, "Marry Him: The Case for Settling for Mr. Good Enough" by Lori Gottlieb, is teaching me to fight my natural urge to not want to meet new people, and, not give up on people with bad habits too quickly. For example, I now see why not pursuing someone with an annoying laugh or small hands is unacceptable and not a good reason to reject. And yes, I'm still single, but I'm much closer to not being in the dating dark than I was this time last year. WWLGD has been my new dating life slogan..."What would Lori Gottlieb do?"
A great end and a greater beginning...in accordance with my resolution of "go places, do things" New Years Eve was so much fun, and day 1 of 2011 even better, at, what my friends and I refer to as "game of life," the Winter Classic, where the Caps beat the Pens 3-1!
So no, 52 weeks to a better me didn't go quite as I'd hoped. But, nothing happens overnight (or in my case, 365 nights) right? So, here we go again. There will not be 52 resolutions this time, but there will be changes with realistic goals. My first task? A measurable one. In 2011, I will double the amount of posts from 2010. Goal: 72+.
Happy late New Year friends, family, and all of the secret readers I pretend to have. And, cheers to (another) 52 weeks to a better me! Hope you'll stick around, and, if I haven't been clear...post comments to prove that you did!
XOXO,
Gossip Girl (Fine. Shauna.)
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