B-Caz Princess Does Working At A Nonprofit Health Organization

Random Things

2009-05-31T16:18:00.000-07:00

Things that are *not* at my uncle's where I am house-sitting.

1. Food (Seriously, they have a number of ingredients, but it's going to take all of my creativity to make stone soup.)
2. Caffeinated coffee. (I found ONE packet of sampler type caffeinated coffee in the freezer.)
3. Milk (I've been putting whipped cream in my coffee and waiting for it to melt.)
4. Sponges (While making the aforementioned coffee, I put the pot in wrong and spilled coffee all over the counter, but there's no way to wipe it up so I've been squeegie-ing it off the counter with the side of my hand.)

Things that make me happy.

1. It's sunny.
2. I got a manicure and my nails look like shiny pink jelly beans :-)

Things that make me sad.

1. Even though it's sunny, it's also raining, AT THE SAME TIME!
2. This -->It's sad

I am deeply saddened by this, not the least because it reminds me that every day, the lives of my coworkers and people that I care about are in danger. I realize that, broadly speaking, this is true for everyone, but it doesn't help that there's a segment of the population out there that hates me so much because of where I work that they would be happy to gun me down in the street, at work, or at my place of worship (if I had one.) The most disgusting part of this to me is that this man was at church, a place of safety and forgiveness, when this tragedy occurred, and that within hours (probably minutes) the anti-choice fringe has been lauding this as an act of God, laughing about it, and generally ridiculing the suffering of the people that were close to this man. I have to say, today is a day that I am not proud to be part of a country where Freedom of Speech is allowed, if only because it allows people like this to spread their vicious, hurtful blather.

RIP Dr. Tiller

Whew

2009-05-12T06:58:00.000-07:00

So I had an interview last week for a position in admin upstairs. And I freaked out about it for a few days and then kind of forgot. Now I have another interview for the same position, and I'm freaking out again.

That's pretty much it.

Holy crap

2009-05-08T08:08:00.000-07:00

I forgot I had a blog.

Oops.

I have new orchids, and Prince put out a new album, and I'm joyeously welcoming La Latina Princessa back into my life. And the Princess of Ireland is having a baby. And I'll cross post something here and on Ugly Laugh.

La Latina Princessa: Can you help me sort these encounter forms?
B-Caz Princess: D00d, I already sorted a bunch of these today.
La Latina Princessa: Do you know how many encounter forms I have to go through a day? This many! *flips me off*
Dos Princessas: AHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!

Cross Posted

2009-01-16T10:37:00.000-08:00

From uglylaugh.blogspot.com, the work blog.

me: i need to find a good fish place
Angie: i want affection
me: i want a pony
wow
that was kind of dick, huh>?
Angie: LOL
me: zomg ugly laugh
i'm putting it up

As you can see, healthcare is a caring place to work. :-P

Stolen

2009-01-04T12:23:00.000-08:00

From an old friend whose blog I found on facebook, who hasn't actually accepted my friend request yet, so I won't bother saying who it is. Apparently he got it in an email from his boss.

One sunny day in 2009 an old man approached the White House from across Pennsylvania Avenue , where he'd been sitting on a park bench. He spoke to the U.S. Marine standing guard and said, "I would like to go in and meet with President Bush." The Marine looked at the man and said, "Sir, Mr. Bush is no longer president and no longer resides here." The old man said, 'Okay' and walked away.

The following day, the same man approached the White House and said to the same Marine, "I would like to go in and meet with President Bush." The Marine again told the man, "Sir, as I said yesterday, Mr. Bush is no longer president and no longer resides here." The man thanked him and, again, just walked away.

The third day, the same man approached the White House and spoke to the very same U. S. Marine, saying "I would like to go in and meet with President Bush." The Marine, somewhat agitated at this point, looked at the man and said, "Sir, this is the third day in a row you have been here asking to speak to Mr. Bush. I've told you already that Mr. Bush is no longer the president and no longer resides here. Don't you understand?" The old man looked at the Marine and said, "Oh, I understand. I just love hearing it."

The Marine snapped to attention, saluted, and said, "See you tomorrow."

I can't wait for inauguration day. Seriously. I don't necessarily think that come the day after we're all going to wake up with better lives, more job security, more money in the bank, better schools, better access to healthcare, any of the things that we on the left leaning side are hoping for in the next four years. But I definitely think it's worth it to continue celebrating and patting ourselves on the back just a little. Think about it, this time four years ago how many of us were seriously starting to think about emigrating? And how many of us were just stuck, staring in open-mouthed awe at the rest of the country that we could no longer believe we were part of? I know that since the new year I've been in a little funk, of sorts, but remembering that in a few short weeks G.W. will be gone, never to return, brightens my funky days just a little bit.

I think I have a problem

2008-12-29T10:10:00.000-08:00

That I realized this morning. I was on the train, fully caffeinated from my brand spanking new Disney Princess coffee cup set that I got for Christmas from the Princess of Ireland, listening to Prince on my ipod and reading my new, super awesome Prince unauthorized biography. And it hit me, I have a Prince problem. I refer to small items as Prince sized, when I get drunk I rock out to Purple Rain, and I think I'm going to baptize my firstborn in the waters of Lake Minnatonka, wherever that may be. And, to top it all off, I'm actually upset that I don't know where Lake Minnatonka is. Varez? Help here?

I don't want to change the world

2008-12-20T02:09:00.000-08:00

I'm just looking for a New England. Or at least, to get out of New England.

Seriously, it's 12 degrees outside, and I'm getting ready for work. And it's going to be like this for the rest of the winter. Cuz that's what happens in New England. And we all forget, every year, that it's going to happen again. And then we're like goldfish with really, really long attention spans. "Holy crap, it's cold out. Holy crap, it's cold out. Holy crap, it's cold out." Oh and the talks we get to have about the weather then. "Hey Billy-Bob (or more rightly, Janet or Steve, this is New England, not Kentucky) remember that big storm we had is aught-one? (People in New England say 'aught' I don't know why.)" "Yeah, I remember, there was like a foot and a half on the ground!"

*sigh* Stupid weather.

What are we going to bitch about now?

2008-12-17T08:52:00.000-08:00

Soooo, OK. The messiah is coming. January 20th is right around the corner, and all the little urban hipsters are all of a sudden going to have a lot less to complain about. What are we going to do? After eight years I'm feeling my complaining circuits drying up already, and I don't know how I feel about it. So I propose a new topic. Anthropomorphized cartoon animals. Now I don't just mean talking animals, like Bambi or Mickey Mouse, I mean full-on anthropomorphization, like the bees in Pixar's the Bee Movie.

We're talking animals that have cute little human things made out of hilarious little pieces of natue. The bees in Bee Movie have TV . . . and complex legal representation. This is stupid. STUPID! And I think we need to take a stand. America, this is our finest hour, we have overthrown the horribleness of the Bush legacy, now we need to stand up for what's really killing our country. Cartoon bees with a serious grasp of economics. Seriously, come with me on this one.

Another lol

2008-11-05T18:13:00.000-08:00

I lol-ed Spike! Go vote for him!

moar funny pictures

I know, I know

2008-11-04T22:37:00.001-08:00

I know it's been like a month. I'll get back to blogging I swear. For now I leave you with this.

see Sarah Palin pictures

My New Boss

2008-10-09T15:09:00.000-07:00

Wants us all to weigh 11,000 pounds. Seriously. Her first day she brought in a cake she made from scratch. And we all thought, wow, what a nice gesture for her first day. The next day she brought us a pizza. Then some more cake. This had also led to some retaliatory acts of baking wherein other people bring in baked goods to make up for the fact that she brought us cake. Then she started bringing in chocolate. Today she actually walked around to everyone working and offered us chocolate.

So for those of you who have never worked in an office full of women, this is how it works. There is always junk food lying around, but everyone pretends they're not eating it and babbles about their diets. Often people will eat a scrawny lean cuisine for "dinner" in front of everyone else, but will "splurge" three or four times a week and get take-out grease bombs or pick up a cubic foot of chocolate from the place next door "to share." This is pretty standard. But we don't bring in stuff EVERY DAY and certainly don't walk around offering it to people, because we all have to pretend that we're still on our very strict diets of celery sticks and water.

To top it off my new boss is tall, thin, tatted up and gorgeous. So the cake obviously isn't affecting her, but the rest of us will soon be waddling into the building everyday moaning "Celeryyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy, I only eat celeryyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy."

Uh oh

2008-10-02T19:48:00.000-07:00

So I watched the stupid debate. And now I'm a little worried. Because she didn't stutter, yammer, or sound stupid. Well, OK, not all the time. (There were a few strings of words that weren't technically sentences and did say 'darn' and 'heck' a lot.) She actually pronounced the president of Iran's name properly. Basically. And she really seemed very poised and confident. Which obviously is what the people of this country are looking for. *sigh* So I'm a little worried. But, for the record, if I hear that woman say 'noo-cue-lar' one more time, I'm gonna lose it.

Apparently it's true

2008-09-28T17:13:00.001-07:00

A princess DOES need a man like a fish needs a bicycle :-P This weekend was a long weekend of moving furniture and painting. And there's pretty pictures to go with it! You all remember my red cave of doom room, well, now it's a little nice.

Schnookie knows what's going on, he runs away before he has to help.

First coat on the far wall.

After the second coat, it still doesn't look great, but at least it's not red anymore.

And now with furniture!

First coat on the door, it used to have an angry mural that glared at me whenever I closed my door.

Second coat, even less angry :-D

And finally, a through the door shot of my nice bright new room!

*Whew* Now I'm finally done, and it's definitely time for some relaxing and possibly a trip to Sligo for a pint!

One of those days . . .

2008-09-25T13:02:00.000-07:00

There's chocolate on the desk in the back. I don't know whose it is. I thought about asking around, to see whose it was. then I just grabbed a piece while noone was looking. You shouldn't leave chocolate laying around in this office. Ass. :-P

Cutie cutie cutie!

2008-09-21T21:11:00.001-07:00

My cousin's daughter, and a bonus picture of schnookie.

B-Caz Princess Does Having A Place To Live!

2008-09-16T20:52:00.001-07:00

In no particular order, here are some pictures of my new place. This is the kitchen table, before we cleaned today, and a bike, cuz you can't live in Somerville without a bike or two in your kitchen.

Next we have the sink/island area, again pre-cleaning. This is one of Spike's new favorite spots because it gives him a chance to both lay around in the middle of everything AND be close to where the food is.

One corner of our living room, with our extra roommate Eric Estrada's looming shadow in the window.

My/Schnookie's room, with the unmade bed and the fantastically awful paint job that hopefully will soon be fixed. (Who wants to come to Boston this weekend and help me paint? :-D)
The infamous IKEA wardrobe, it only took me two hours and a variety of plastic objects in lieu of an actual hammer to put together.
More of the bad paint job, and the one area of my room with good light in it.
The door into the living room (hey I was taking these this morning with the webcam on my laptop, OK, give me a break about the cropping.) Please to disregard the PBR can on the side of the mirror, kthx.
My window, with a spectacular view of the parking lot, and, nine times out of ten, Schnookie. I need something to install there so he can sit in the window once it's too cold to keep it open, any suggestions?
My favorite little corner, loveseat with orchids, in the only other well lit area in the apartment.
And, since there's no order, another picture of my living room, complete with another bike.
You're not missing much not having pictures of the bathroom, k?

AHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!

2008-09-12T06:42:00.000-07:00

I freaking hate her.

My personal favorite? Backpedaling on her "mission from god" statement.

Palin, who earlier in the day attended the deployment ceremony of her son, Track, as he headed to duty in Iraq, was pressed on her earlier statement that "Our national leaders are sending US soldiers on a task that is from God." She explained that she had been referencing a comment by Abraham Lincoln.

"I would never presume to know God's will or to speak God's words," Palin said. "But what Abraham Lincoln had said, and that's a repeat in my comments, was, 'Let us not pray that God is on our side in a war or any other time, but let us pray that we are on God's side.' "

Harold Holzer, a prominent Lincoln scholar and author of multiple Lincoln biographies, said last night that Palin's original comment that US troops are on a task from God does not follow Lincoln's quote.

"I think there is no computing the precise Lincoln quote with her own quote," Holzer said. "Lincoln sought guidance from God, he didn't tell people that God was guiding him. It is just different."

Idiot.

I hate this woman

2008-09-10T15:33:00.000-07:00

Oh dear Lord, how I hate Sarah Palin. This article sent me careening into hysterics yesterday, but at the same time made me almost sad. Because it's true, she does incite rage, but she also seems to incite loyalty, and pride, and all sorts of other things in seemingly normal people. And this bothers me, because if she is going to be the first female VP (and I'm praying, actually PRAYING that she won't be,) she's going to make all of the other female politicians out there look bad. Hillary put 18 million cracks in the glass ceiling, and Sarah's gonna be there to shellac over the top of it.

*sigh*

Plus her views on abortion are, ummm, yeah. I don't even have to say anything, really. From the Washington Post.

The extent to which abortion will become a pivotal issue in swing states like Ohio is an open question.

"Palin resonates on the pro-life side _ they were lukewarm about McCain and now they're excited," said Ohio State University political science professor Paul Beck.

"But most Americans are ambivalent about abortion," he said. "They don't like it, but they also don't like what has to be done to eliminate it, outlawing it entirely, denying women the ability to make these choices for themselves. Most Americans are perplexed. It's a difficult issue."

Well, this is true, it is a difficult issue. And it's one that I struggle with everyday. But I still am terrified, TERRIFIED that she's been rallying people around the issue, and it. might. work.

And if it does I won't have to care about how difficult the issue is anymore, because I'll be pulling up stakes as fast as I can and getting out of dodge. Or fighting the good fight waving coat hangers at people. Who knows. I don't fucking like her.

Spike on the interwebs!

2008-09-09T20:01:00.000-07:00

moar funny pictures

Sleep is for the weak

2008-09-07T23:08:00.000-07:00

So when you've stayed in all weekend doing nothing but laundry and kitten snuggling, there's not much to do on a Sunday night but stay up late and watch streaming Law and Order on Netflix. This being said, I think it's time for another installment of 'Commuting in Boston.' Or as I like to refer to it, "The City that wasn't laid out by a civil engineer, but rather this kid."

So I get off at Central, I'm on my way to watch football with a buddy, but then I get a call, and it's La Latina Princessa, she wants to shop. Obviously I would much rather shop than watch football, as much as I love watching a bunch of sweaty guys in spandex run around and pat each other on the butt.

I get to my buddy's place and watch for the LONGEST eight minutes in football history (seriously, I know it's the beginning of the season, but the Pats are already SUCKING at offense.) At half-time I bow out, off to the land of shopping and pretzels (you know you love them.) I get back to Central station and there are three ways I can get to the mall. I can take the Red Line into Boston, get on the Green, and come back to Cambridge, which just seems silly. I can take the Red Line to Kendall and look for the mall shuttle to Lechemere, or I can go to Kendall and try to walk to Lechemere. Being the incredible Blonde that I am, I decide the best course of action is to go the one stop to Kendall and look for the shuttle. Worse comes to worse, it's right in the middle of MIT, so there's got to be Campus maps, right?

Of course right. So after I don't find the shuttle I find a map, and I begin walking, I know I'm heading towards the water, I want first street, away from Cambridge, towards Boston. I find another map, and it looks like I'm on the right track although of course there are no street signs in the entire state of Massachusetts.

I'm walking, and all of a sudden I have this incredible sense of deja vu, now why could that possibly be? . . . I'M BACK IN CENTRAL!!!! The two maps that I came across were oriented UPSIDE DOWN, so even though I was following the street that I was on, the bridge was in the opposite direction. *sigh* So I call La Latina Princessa, and I turn around, thinking that it can't be far. This time I opt to walk down Mass Ave., a much bigger street where I can always opt to get on a bus and just get to the next T stop if I so choose. I finally reach the water, and I walk across the bridge, enjoying the smell of the water, the breeze, the sun, the FACT THAT THE STREET TURNS INTO ANOTHER BRIDGE AND I AM NOW IN BOSTON PROPER!!!!!

I cross the street, looking for someone to ask for directions, and she points me away from the water, down a little side street. I follow along and turn the corner, where I come face to face with . . . you guessed it, Kendall station. *sigh* I have now walked in a half hour, twenty block circle. I come to a small courtyard and ask a likely looking young woman the way to the galleria, she doesn't live here. I resist the urge to grab her and scream "I don't live here either!" but I keep going. Now I'm walking down a desolate street surrounded by factories, train tracks and parking lots. And, of course, there are no street signs. Somehow, by pure luck, I find the cross street that I'm looking for and realize I've been walking parallel to first this whole time. As I turn up Cambridge to get to the mall, which I can now see, the shuttle drives by.

*whimper* *whimper*

Boy is my face red . . . but luckily not my vulva

2008-09-05T08:27:00.000-07:00

So, we had a long talk with the CAs the other night about a new resurgence in syphilis testing, and the girls brought up trich. Apparently they had a patient who was very perturbed that she had it and didn't want to take the meds and I don't know, something dumb. So, I was under the impression that trich was this, which is a disease associated with raw pork. I have heard of trichinosis, and I believe even played a character called trichinosis in a Woody Allen show in high school. So we're talking about this on the street the other night, which lead to all sorts of comments about how are patients are douching with raw pork, and a lot of other silly things that one would expect given our line of work.

Unfortunately, after I thought I had been so witty and cool, with my knowledge of pork related STDs, it turns out that the trich we test and treat for is actually this, which is not caused by douching with raw pork, but rather by the more conventional method of having sex with someone that already has it. Good thing I looked this up before STD Jeopardy at our Health Center meeting.

No really, we play STD Jeopardy. Of course, this is also the same workplace where the girl who runs the pill window freaks out when you change your brand of birth control and everyone knows what everyone else is on. Typical conversation:

Person A: "Oh, I was thinking of switching to the ring, what do you think?"
Person B: "Well, I was on the Patch, but I just got and IUD, so I don't know, but Person C is on the ring, right Person C?"
Person C: (is across the room and yelling) "Yeah the ring's great, but the guy I'm dating/seeing/found in my bed this morning complains that he can feel it."
Person A: "OK, well maybe I'll go on the Patch instead."
Person D: "Oh! I'm on . . "

You get the idea. Welcome to *insert name of Nonprofit Health Organization here* indeed.

Not me, for a change

2008-09-03T22:12:00.000-07:00

On the phone with the Princess of Craziness, bear in mind she is calling me from CT, I live in MA.

Princess of Crazy-Order food? It's one in the morning-- hey wait, is it one in the morning there?
B-Caz Princess-Phffffffbt
Princess of Crazy-WHAT?
B-Caz Princess-You're an idiot
Princess of Crazy-Wait, wait, ow I fell over.

I have to say, they always said we share a brain. I obviously have the brain today.

A problem of geography

2008-09-02T12:26:00.000-07:00

Not necessarily a problem, but an observation. When I went away to college, my boyfriend at the time came to visit me on a fairly regular basis. Problem was, he hated the town I was going to college in (well, it was Troy, to be fair) and so I always felt like I was ruining his weekends when he came to visit me. Then, when I started dating a boy at school, he'd come to visit me at home in New Haven, and also hated it. Now this made a little less sense, but at the time really bothered me. It still kind of does. It was like he was projecting his dislike of the town of New Haven onto me, and when I moved home for the summer and he HAD to come visit me, it spelled the end of our relationship.

Now my current situation is totally different, but a little the same. While the boi is a.) not my boyfriend and b.) not immature enough to blame me for the town that he doesn't like, he still doesn't like it. Which makes me feel kind of bad. And also confused, cuz who doesn't like visiting a big city? Why is it that the people I'm involved with hate the towns that I move to? I'm kind of hoping the answer is something in that they just miss me and hate the fact that I moved, but I kind of doubt it. I wonder if I ever find a boi here if he'll hate New Haven?

Something funny for a change

2008-08-26T18:27:00.001-07:00

That happened to someone else. One of the CAs came out tonight laughing her ass off. Literally, almost fell over. So we, of course, asked her what was up, you know, so we could mock her.

Turns out she had a patient in for an STD treatment, but the person who had checked her in wrote PAB on her sheet. (This means post-abortion, for those of you not following.) The intake for a PAB includes questions regarding your break-through bleeding and whether or not you have pregnancy symptoms, as well as a host of other things. The poor patient was shocked when the CA asked her if was getting support at home, and even more so when she took her temperature. When the CA finally finished her spiel, the patient timidly asked if she could simply get her treatment and leave. The CAs response? "Treatment for what?"

OK, maybe not funny if you weren't there, but we all thought it was fricking hilarious.

And now I remember why . . .

2008-08-23T10:18:00.001-07:00

I took this job. Because we had to turn someone away today who had traveled for four hours but was over half an hour late. And there's nowhere else in the state that she can go. And she was crying in our waiting room and freaking out and beating on her (very, very supportive and caring) boyfriend. And I can only imagine the terror that I would be feeling if I was in her shoes. And it's not fair that she can't go to her doctor, in her own town, that she feels comfortable with. And it's not fair that we have to turn away 17 year olds that already have four kids. And it's not fair that there are women out there that are too afraid to come to us. And it's not fair that we need escorts in the morning. And it's my job, my very stressful, very underpaid job, to make it a little more fair.

Long time . . . more moving

2008-08-20T06:25:00.000-07:00

But I don't want to talk about moving, so instead will talk about more HIPAA approved patient stupidity. I pulled a late appointment yesterday, and was calling her up to let her know we had to reschedule.

Patient: But she's outside.
B-Caz Princess: Oh, so you're not the patient?
Patient: She told me to just put it on her insurance.
B-Caz Princess: Umm, what? Is the appointment for you?
Patient: Yeah, but my family friend told me to put it on her insurance.
B-Caz Princess: *looks at slip indicating that patient is 40, then at girl in front of her who appears to be all of 12* Ummm, how old are you?
Patient: 17, but I'm gonna put it on my friend's insurance.
B-Caz Princess: OK, hon, (yes I say hon now, it's upsetting) if you want a procedure here, you need to make the appointment for yourself and you need a parent or a judicial bypass.
Patient: What's that?

OH MY LORD! We had a long boring meeting about minor consent laws in the state of Massachusetts, so I knew what to say about that part of our interaction. But the insurance fraud attempt? I don't even know where to start with that one.

I'm a horrible, horrible person

2008-08-07T16:15:00.000-07:00

We had a patient today who's name was Zule.

...

...

HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Love it.

2008-08-04T10:44:00.000-07:00

10AM Next Time Use the "Dying Fetus" Sound Effect

Assistant on phone: Hello, Lucy Smith*'s office. (pause) No, she's not available, she's out having an abortion. (pause) Sure, I'll give her the message. Have a good day. (hangs up)
Lucy (angry): What?! Who was that?!
Assistant: Some pro-life group asking for donations.
Lucy: Oh, okay, good work.

Lexington Avenue
New York City, New York

via Overheard in the Office, Aug 4, 2008

I hate to say this, but . . .

2008-08-01T11:48:00.000-07:00

Some people are too stupid for sex. I mean, in my line of work, we take into consideration that people make mistakes, that's fine. But if you're so stupid that I have to tell you to fill out both sides of your intake form and it even says "Two sided" on the form, well then, you're too stupid to be having sex.

I will make you feel feelings!

2008-07-28T05:54:00.001-07:00

With my published emo words of pain!!!!!! (Just kidding, it's just the regular kind of words.)

The Queen insisted that I submit to this online lit mag about a year ago. They contacted me that I would be on the site yesterday. (If I'm not up at the top still, you can just scroll down to the post from the 27th.)

http://www.400words.com/

And Now For Something Completely Different

2008-07-23T13:56:00.000-07:00

Three years ago, I asked for a DVD player for Christmas. Not a fancy one, just one that I could, you know, play DVDs on. So I got a gift card to Target and I managed to make $25 get me both a DVD player and some crappy 2-for-1 DVD special with, oh I don't know, we'll say Clueless included.

Fast forward to this past weekend. My DVD player has moved to three apartments, in 2 states, and has just now started to eat it. Every once in a while I have to bang on it, put it on it's side, or pick it up and shake it to make it load. And I'm trying to give myself stuff to do in Boston, so I've decided to join Netflix. I get my first 3 DVDs, including the first two discs of Big Love, which I'm very excited about, and I decide to lock myself in my room and melt for the day. (It's 96 degrees out and humid in Boston.)

Pop in my first DVD. Nothing. Horrible clicking, whirry noise indicating that my DVD player has well and truly kicked the bucket. Awesome. So I bang, I shake, I try it on it's side, upside down, pretty much everything. And I've got nothing. So I go into the living room, where there's another player, conveniently not even plugged in. Score! It has no remote, but I can probably work around that. So I bring it in my room, hook it up, plug it in, and try again for the first disc.

DVD Player #2-*Click click* *whirrrrr*
B-Caz Princess-*sigh*

Again, I shake, I bang, I finally get it to work, even though I can't watch special features because I have no remote, I'm basically happy. But it is clear, I need a new DVD player.

So Monday, after a long day of, well, not much, at work, the Latina Princessa and I decide to hit up Best Buy for another el cheapo DVD player. Our trip is fine, and I end up with something in the same price range, but it looks like a space ship. You know, all sleek and shiny. I get it home, so excited, and realize two things-

A. I still have two DVD players to deal with now, neither of which work.
B. I know have no Netflix to watch, since I watched them all already.

*sigh*

So now I have to wait till Thursday to actually experience my new DVD player, but i think it'll be worth it to not have to do all the jumping up and down and shaking a magic gourd to get it to work.

And soon no drinking and no talking!

2008-07-09T09:51:00.000-07:00

So there's this train thing that criss-crosses Boston, and I spend a lot of time on it. Apparently there are a variety of rules that are designed to make you not look like a tourist, in this huge urban tourist destination obviously that would be tragic. So here goes:

1. Never, EVER, run for the train. True Bostonians always walk at a fast pace (not as fast as New Yorkers, but still pretty fast) but running instantly marks you as a tourist.
2. There is no smiling at people or attempting to talk to people that you don't know. They will just look at you blankly and probably didn't hear you over their teeny tiny ipods anyway.
3. There is no talking to people that you do know. For some reason, noone chit chats on the T, it's like a wall of silence falls over everyone the second they swipe their Charlie Card.
4. There is no talking on the phone. Actually this rule changes from line to line. For instance, if you are on the Red Line aboveground on the Quincy side, there is no cell phone, if you are on the Green B Line aboveground and you are not on your cell you must by law be staring blankly out the window.
5. Everyone wants to sit. However you must, under no circumstances ever look like you are actively looking for a seat or trying to grab one that someone is about to vacate. You must slip silently and casually into any seat that you get, and never, under any circumstances look at the person next to you and smile, saying "I feel like I won the subway game." This will instantly mark you as a tourist and people will stare blankly at you.
6. The golden rule of standing is: if you can manage without holding on, do so, it makes you look that much more Bostonian. Seriously, I've seen 5 year olds standing defiantly in the middle of a crowded train, clutching nothing but their dignity.

50 points for anyone who can tell me the reference from the title.

More moving

2008-07-03T13:45:00.000-07:00

I can't even come up with a cute title for this one. I'm still moving. I've been moving for a month, and I'm still moving. I have stuff at the uncle's place. I have stuff at the boi's. I have stuff with the redhead. I have stuff at the Queen's. I have stuff in my new place. I did manage to get my kitty up here, but that's all that I've really accomplished. I am so tired of moving. And now, I may actually be moving again, just to another room, but still. MORE MOVING. I will never be done :(

I Haz A Blogroll!

2008-06-25T21:19:00.001-07:00

So, there's two people on it. If you read this, and you have one, and you want me to post it, let me know :-D

B-Caz Princess becomes Scrubs Princess?!

2008-06-25T14:59:00.000-07:00

So, we got a memo from on high that Patient Services (that's me!) are now allowed to wear scrubs while working. Now, I don't know about you, but I've been dreaming of burning my b-caz wear since day one.

Except, that's not true. I actually like the little ritual of getting dressed for work. It differentiates work time from play time and, in the case of scrubs, sleep time. Seriously, I wear scrubs from my aunt's hospital to sleep in, I don't think I could wear them to work and stay awake.

But the thought still calls to me, from beyond, somewhere behind the blondie rainbow, that it would be sooooooo nice to be comfy at work, particularly on days where I don't feel good, am cranky, maybe even kind of hungover, and just don't feel like strapping on my big girl pants (or in this case, tasteful skirtsuit) for the day.

But could the B-Caz Princess become the Scrubs Princess? Only time and possibly a lot of laziness will tell . . .

B-Caz Princess Does Alltop!

2008-06-22T21:01:00.000-07:00

So the Queen recommended my royal ramblings for a site called alltop.com. From the website, this is their description of themselves.

Purpose
We help you explore your passions by collecting stories from “all the top” sites on the web. We’ve grouped these collections — “aggregations” — into individual Alltop sites based on topics such as environment, photography, science, Muslim, celebrity gossip, military, fashion, gaming, sports, politics, automobiles, and Macintosh. At each Alltop site, we display the headlines of the latest stories from dozens of sites and blogs.
You can think of an Alltop site as a “digital magazine rack” of the Internet. To be clear, Alltop sites are starting points—they are not destinations per se. The bottom line is that we are trying to enhance your online reading by both displaying stories from the sites that you’re already visiting and helping you discover sites that you didn’t know existed. In other words, our goal is the “cessation of Internet stagnation” by providing “aggregation without aggravation.”

So, yeah, go to alltop.com and check the twentysomethings section, I'm all the way at the bottom. And if I can figure out how to make the interweb let me post a badge, I'll have a cool badge. :-D

Fun with Boston Geography and Being White

2008-06-18T21:10:00.001-07:00

This was taken from one of my new friends, who I have routinely been calling when I know that I'm lost in Boston, yet again.

"The geographical center of Boston is in Roxbury. Due north of the center we find the South End. This is not to be confused with South Boston, which lies directly east from the South End. North of the South End is East Boston and southwest of East Boston is the North End. "

Now, I don't know exactly how accurate this is, but since my basic knowledge of Boston is the straight lines on the T maps, and I just found out that you can easily walk from Copley (Green Line) to Kendall (Red Line) it's entirely possible that this is correct.

In other news, stuffwhitepeoplelike.com is totally affirming that I am the whitest person on the face of the planet, as is evidenced by my current count of things I like/am now doing with my life.

1. I moved to Boston. This is not Manhattan or Brooklyn, but I think it runs a close third. This is evidenced by it's large number of farmer's markets, marathons, and the ever present Whole Foods.
2. I moved here to work at a nonprofit. This gives me a constant excuse to be offended. Also I get a chance to tell poor people what to do with their lives on a regular basis. And I'm the only white person that works in my department.
3. My commute everyday sees me listening to an ipod. Once I get in I spend most of my free computer time reading the New York Times online.
4. I am moving to Brookline, this is the Boston version of Williamsburg, you know, where the hipsters come from. I'm moving in with three other girls that ALSO work in nonprofit, and our new roommate get together was at the new, local Asian fusion place. While we were there we discussed the best places to get local microbrew beer.

Yeah, I think that puts me at approximately 186% white.

B-Caz Princess Does Commuting (and Protesters)

2008-06-11T15:01:00.000-07:00

Have you been to Boston? Was it on a nice, leisurely weekend where you could just ride the train to wherever you wanted, take as long as you wanted to get there, and rest assured that you would probably get a seat, and if you didn't it would be cool, urban and edgy?

Yeah, so, here's the thing. When you're trying to get to work at 6:30 in the morning, it's a little different. For one thing, everyone's in a bad mood. Or sleeping. Or both. I actually sat across from an entire row of women sleeping on the Red Line last Friday with their "frowny faces" on. How do you sleep with frowny face? I mean, your face must relax at least a little bit, right? And even if you're not really sleeping, do you have to take all the effort of holding frowny face while you attempt to sleep? The second thing is the crowdedness. Not that I'm claustrophobic, but I'm just not used to having that many people bump into you. In New Haven, if someone bumps into you, they usually apologize, and if they don't you can feel free to berate them as much as you wish. Apparently in Boston this isn't the case, and I can't count how many times I've had to choke back an "Uhhh, ex-CUSE you," or possibly a "Feck-off!" in the last week and a half.

All this being said, the only thing that really bothers me about the commute is my reaction to it. I've noticed that I have my angry face on from the second I hit the platform until I get to work, and it's getting harder and harder to turn it off. Uh oh, soon I'll look like I live in NYC :-(

On the, umm, funny side really, I was on my way in this morning for New Hire video day, and I saw my first protesters! They can't cross the big yellow line painted on the side walk, but I saw them as I was coming up the street, so I stopped to enjoy my cigarette and observe. Tee hee. Silly old white guys with no uteruses (uteri?) They didn't give me a hard time, but now that they've seen me go in the building they might. Ahh well. I also had to choke back the urge to flip them off, but as our security coordinator reminded us this morning, the idea is to be above it, so they look crazy and we don't.

Mission Accomplished. :-D

B-Caz Princess Does Fuckshows

2008-06-08T17:35:00.000-07:00

Heh heh.

So my first week of work was, umm, oh we'll say interesting. My first day was your basic, filling out paperwork, trying to remember people's names type of day, although I did manage to learn how to check in one type of patient. This was very exciting, but totally unorganized and not managed. So Tuesday, when I got in and there was another manager, who sat me down in the back and started to go over each type of form in a very structured, non-throwing me to the wolves kind of way. *Whew* Finally! Some real training! And I breathed a sigh or relief. Ha ha! Too Soon!

An hour later my manager had been fired.

Of course she had. Apparently there was some shenanigans going on and I don't know a lot of details, but yeah, so she's gone. The rest of the week was a little less exciting, just learning where to put stickers on charts and such, until Friday, my early day. Friday is apparently also the day that most of our more complicated procedures are scheduled, which require more paperwork, and they do things differently in the morning, so basically everything that I learned all week was totally wrong. *sigh*

But the Princess rallied, and got some mad props from a coworker for how quickly she's picked up the job. And still managed to go out Friday night, despite being totally exhausted from the long week and the getting up at 4:30 Friday morning.

B-Caz Princess Does Changing Her Blog

2008-06-03T19:35:00.000-07:00

20 points to whomever can tell me three (3) distinct things that have changed about the blog. I'll start you off-

1. The background is now a slightly different shade of light blue.

I have a feeling that boys may have particular difficulty with this one :-D

B-Caz Princess Does Moving

2008-06-03T06:23:00.000-07:00

I think I found a place! Normally my illustrative lol would be a link, but for some reason my unlce's laptop won't let me cut and paste. Anyway, I went to see it yesterday, and it's very cute, six blocks from my job, and they WANT a kitty! So all of these are good things. I think the question is going to be whether or not I could live with chicks again.

B-Caz Princess Does Interviewing

2008-06-01T19:52:00.001-07:00

Ah, royal journeys, always fraught with drama, hilarity, and silliness. On this particular journey, the princess was traveling far and wide in search of employment that didn't, ahem, suck.

After running to the local Wal-Mart for some last minute provisions, and about to head to her last client of the day, the princess jumped into her royal chariot and turned the key in the ignition.

Royal Chariot: Beep bee- *silence*
B-Caz Princess: Uhh . . . qua?
Royal Chariot: *silence*
B-Caz Princess: *expletive deleted*

So after a few frantic phone calls, she finally reached a friend, the fair red-head, and another friend, the obligatory boy that one must call when one has car problems. And there was much rejoicing. The Princess and the Red Head attempted to push the Royal Chariot into such a place as they could jump the battery with the Red Head Mobile, but alas, their plan was foiled by the evil People Who Park in the Parking Lot. And there was less rejoicing. Finally, the Obligatory Boy reached a wondrous conclusion.

Obligatory Boy: I have an emergency car starter!

And there was much rejoicing. Unfortunately by this point the Princess had already wasted enough time that she couldn't possibly make it to her client's, but her client told her to fear not, for there were more important things that General Hospital and the Ellen show. So finally, the Obligatory Boy made one, final discovery. It was not the Royal Chariot's battery that was the problem, but the connections were simply loose and needed the bolts to be blah blah blah car stuff.

At last! The Princess was on her way! And she reached the great city of, well, Quincy, and prepared for her next step, the actual interview part of the interview. She awoke feeling refreshed, and showered and primped and generally has a lovely morning. Then, with a spring in her step and a song in her heart, she left the great townhouse in Quincy and prepared to board the Royal Railroad. At which point it started raining. And she forgot her umbrella. And totally wasn't wearing any makeup. But fear not! For she had left so early that she had plenty of time to hole up in a coffee place and dry out, and besides, it was only a short walk to the Royal Railroad!

Upon reaching the Royal Red Line, she relaxed, now all there was to do was to reach the Royal Green B Line and she would be able to prepare with the nectar of the Gods, more coffee. Arriving at Park Street Manor and T stop, she quickly found the Green B Line and settled down to wait for her stop. And the train started. And it burst gloriously out from the ground! And stopped. And a strange voice came on overhead, and spake thusly:

Strange Voice: There's been an accident on the street, folks, everybody off. There will be a commuter bus here in a few minutes to take you up Comm Ave.
B-Caz Princess: *expletive deleted*

But the Princess rallied, and she rose to her feet and went in search of the Commuter Bus. Which pulled up and began to let people on. And as the Princess prepared to board the bus, the doors shut, right in her face.

B-Cas Princess: *expletive deleted*

And so the Princess continued on her journey, and lo, the road was long, for she found a campus map of BU that informed her that she was still 10 blocks from her destination. And there was little rejoicing. And then it really started to rain.

B-Caz Princess: *expletive deleted*

Finally that Princess reached her fair kingdom, and the common people rallied at the sight of her, for she had gone into Shaw's and dried her hair under the hand dryer in the employee bathroom there. And they brought her through the metal detector of Truth, and she sat in the Royal Waiting Room of the Ancients, and finally, she was able to meet her destiny.

Short short version: I gots a jobby job!

Stay tuned for a revamped B-Caz Princess, as I am no longer doing temping, and will henceforth be doing Boston. Um. Not like that.

B-Caz Princess Does Homecare

2008-04-24T15:30:00.000-07:00

So the Royal Agency for the Advancement of Princesses and Keeping Them in Rent and Beer Money has royally sucked recently, necessitating a move for the Princess to some other type of employment for the time being. Unfortunately, she took the advice of one of her Agents and enrolled at *Random Elderly Homecare Agency Here* and has since picked up two clients, which is good for the bank account, but bad on the self esteem. To start there is the fact that the Princesses *ahem* colleagues are all in their 40s and don't speak any English, so her clients spend a lot of time questioning her on what the Hell she is doing with her life, a question that the Princess is therefore spending a lot of time agonizing about herself. Then there is the gas spent in transit:actual money made by traveling ratio, which is not looking great, and the fact that the majority of her interactions with her clients go something like this:

B-Caz Princess: OK *client,* I'm going to clean your bathroom now.
Client: What?
B-Caz Princess: I'm going to clean your bathroom.
Client: What?
B-Caz Princess: *sighs* *begins cleaning bathroom*
Client: Honey, are you going to start the bathroom now?
B-Caz Princess: Yes, *client* I'm starting now.
Client: Make sure you wash the toilet nice, it gets yellow around the, what is it called, seat sometimes.
B-Caz Princess: *notices that this is because of rust and there is nothing she can do about it* OK *client* I'll do my best.
Client: *comes up behind Princess and shouts* And make sure the sink is sparkling. Sometimes it gets no good when my grandson cleans his nose in the morning.
B-Caz Princess: *first jumps, then sighs* OK, *client* I'll do it next. *whimpers*

So, the Princess has taken this opportunity to send out a lot of resumes, start up at Retail Hell again, and sign up for Medical Experiments. Yes, just like in that Monty Python sketch where all the Catholic children get sent away for Medical Experiments. In order to cut the anguish out of this post a little bit, here's a funny, shamelessly stolen from Margaret's sister's blog.

Do. Want.

2008-03-19T12:59:00.001-07:00

I want to make these. From scratch.

Unfortunately they take approximately eleventy-thousand years to make. :-(

Royal birfdays

2008-03-19T06:04:00.000-07:00

I haz dems.

see more crazy cat pics

Happy Birthday to the Queen! (And the royal jester.)

WTF is a Typewriter?

2008-03-18T08:22:00.000-07:00

In the dangerous and varied jungle that is temping, one may be called upon to perform ancient rituals that one has very little knowledge of. The appropriate response to a request from a supervisor to perform, say, a rain dance or a ceremonial goat sacrifice, is obviously to feign intimate knowledge of the ritual in question, and then simply screw it up 14 times until you figure it out. For instance, you may need to purchase several goats in advance of showing up at a temp assignment, in case of accidentally severely maiming the goat instead of mortally wounding it.
The Princess was called upon to perform such a task yesterday, in her new found capacity as "Receptionist at random company number eleventy-twelve." At approximately 12:wikipedia entries in the president of *Random Company* approached her with an envelope and a confused look on his face.

President of Random Company: "Uhh, can you type an address on this envelope if I write it down."
B-Caz Princess: *smiling brightly* "Of course!"
President of Random Company: "OK, you can use that." *gestures vaguely at strange ancient machine*
B-Caz Princess: *swallows hard, especially upon realizing that she has no regular printer access with which to use the print envelope function* "Great!"
President of Random Company: *Walks back into office*
B-Caz Princess: "Sigh"
Typewriter: "Beep!"

Yes, it's true, I actually typed an address on an envelope, with a typewriter. And let me tell you, it took me like 20 minutes to type four lines. Which is kind of, no really embarrassing. But in the end, the Princess did prevail and was able to present the envelope, address typed and centered, to the President. Now I just need to make sure he doesn't find out where all the other envelopes are hidden.

2008 will be great

2008-01-10T06:02:00.001-08:00

So far this year nothing has sucked. I call that an improvement, wouldn't you?

I keep waiting for my life to begin to resemble the last chapter of a memoir, when the tragic hero/ine has gotten through it all, the *insert awful subject of life changing memoir here* and walks out into the sun, to breathe the fresh air for the first time and marvel at all s/he has gone through. Or possibly, like the author of Autobiography of a face, that I will begin on a second book, a funny romp of short stories of things that happened after, all the while referencing the strength I have garnered. Of course, in the end she killed herself, but I suppose that's not the point. Or I can take solace in the fact that I just haven't come far enough yet to write that ending, the ending that sees me waking up one morning with the strength of an Amazon, the motivation that I still can't seem to muster about anything although I know I once had it because I used to be able to get shit done.

Although I managed to make it through last year relatively unscathed, I still can't shake the feeling that somewhere, just under the surface, the people that I know and love think I'm a little pathetic, that I can't get anything done, that I'm flaky and a little whiny. OK, a lot whiny. And I know that this is true to a certain extent and totally false to another extent. So I've finally come up with my stupid resolution for the year. 2008 will be great. As opposed to 2007, which means it doesn't even have to be that great, just a little less crappy. :-D

And now, a cute kitten picture.

moar funny pictures

B-Caz Princess Does Dysfunction

2007-11-22T09:48:00.000-08:00

So, there's this day, right? And it's all about the family. And there's a lot of good in that. And there's some crappy. We seem to focus on the crappy in the days leading up to this one day. And we talk about the people we are missing (love you Patty) and we talk about the people that are being assholes (love you daddy.) And we spend the week or so making ourselves crazy. We cook and we clean and we bitch and we fight and we smoke and we drink and then when it really comes down to it, we eat for about 15 minutes and try our best to come up with the best excuse to get out of the house and not have to do the dishes.
Well, that's just silly.

Now, I hate this silly holiday as much as the next person. Right now I'm broke and I'm single and I feel like a giant failure, and I've certainly spent my fair share of time bitching (although not so much with the cleaning.) But today I woke up and the sun was shining, and my dog was licking my face, and I've talked to all my favorite relatives and my best friend and my ex who's watching my cat and yes, I still feel crappy, but not any more than any other day. And it occurs to me that it's not so much about the stress or the dysfunction or the cleaning. It's about having a day off and eating food. It's about getting free cell minutes to call everyone that I never get a chance to talk to because we're all easily reachable. It's about making my brother go get my laundry out of my car. It's about making really good mashed potatos. It's about spending my night with my best friends after spending my day with my mom. And I'm not running off as an excuse for not being here, I'm extending my family obligations to include the family that I choose, as dysfunctional as both of them may be. I'm gonna eat and drink and make jokes and blog and use my patented lower middle class black Irish humor to make fun of this whole experience. And I hope all of you will too.

Happy dysfunctional family eating day!

Let me school you for a moment . . .

2007-11-19T10:01:00.000-08:00

Poor, poor co-temp,

You seem really upset over our silly alphebetizing project. I realize that it's very boring for you, and you wish we were doing nothing rather than alphebetizing this woman's 3,000 business cards that she handed us in a Vicki's Hush Hush bag. I'm sorry. You have to realize something tho, co-temp, which is that temping is definitely on the fuck-you, pay-me side of the job market. We will not be here for long. This project has probably been sitting around for a year, if not longer, and if it doesn't get finished, or done well, it really won't matter to the person who gave it to us. The thing you have to remember is that she doesn't really need this done, or else she would have given it to a real employee. And you don't really have to do a good job, because she probably won't even look at it until you're been gone for so long that she doesn't even remember what you look like. I'm sorry that these realizations are hard for you, and I know that you wish you were looking up pictures of John Mayer on the internet again, but rest assured that you can totally get away with making this project last for the rest of the month that you are here. And they'll still probably ask for you back the next time they need a temp, because they know that this project really, in the grand scheme of things, is just to keep you from slowly molding into your chair while your brain seeps out your ears.

Sincerely,

B-Caz Princess

Where's My Neopotism?

2007-11-16T08:34:00.000-08:00

Damn, I got an email from staffing at yale saying that they forwarded my resume to the hiring manager. Blah blah blah, cuz I haven't heard that before. Actually, normally I just get the 'Thank you for your interest' email.
I'm really upset about the downfall of neopotism at Yale. Where's my old boy's club? WTF? The ex-boy had some silly job all through high school (?) because his dad works there, where's my silly job that involves noxious chemicals and unpaid overtime? Maybe it's because me and the Queen don't have the same last name. Hrm.

Kitty!

2007-11-16T07:04:00.000-08:00

I bought my kitty a spaceship. No, really, it's the Booda Dome covered litter box and it looks like a spaceship. I also got the "World's Best" kitty litter, which is organic, flushable, and claims to be able to empty itself and cuddle with you afterwards. I think I have a problem.

On a slightly funny note, I have the worst schedule ever today, although it does feel good to be doing a lot towards getting a new job, it also involves a lot of driving. I have to leave here (Hamden) to get to Branford at 1:45, and I have to be there by 2-ish (impossible.) Then I have to come BACK to the other side of Hamden, (by 3, also impossible) to interview for a job that I don't remember applying for. (The position I DID apply for has been filled.) THEN I go straight to the temp agency (Westville) to get there by 6 (also impossible,) so I can pick up my paltry 16.5 hours paycheck. W00t. Also, because I have two interviews, I am wearing my combination power suit/stripper outfit (I ran out of clean underwear that wasn't thong style, and I only have lacy thigh highs, no nylons.) If I don't get something after this, I'm gonna be pissed.

It's a Tiny Tiny World

2007-11-15T07:05:00.000-08:00

Last week I was a gym teacher. Do we all remember that? OK, good. So I walk in on my first day, and I'm sitting in the Teacher's Lounge (not as cool as we all thought it was when we were little, trust me, although they do have a laminating machine, which is cool,) and the music teacher comes in for lunch. I'm in my own little world, and he comes over to sit next to me. Apparently we went to ECA together, although for the life of me I can't recognize him. He starts spouting names of all these people that I do actually remember, and now I'm kind of getting a hazy picture of him in high school, although I still really don't remember him.
I ended up spending most of the day with him, and it was cool, even though I really for the life of me don't remember him at all.

This town is way too fucking small.

Oh my

2007-11-13T08:08:00.000-08:00

So it's been a really long time since the Princess has had the time/will/internet access needed to regale you with tales of her journeys, but for the next week or so I will be temping at *random New Haven university* and they don't block internet! I can check my email again!
Last week I was a B-Caz gym teacher. No, really. I was teaching at *random New Haven public school* for the week because their regular teacher was out with 3rd degree burns. I decided it would be better not to ask how they got there. The one really interesting thing about this position, besides the 5am wakeup time, is that I managed to throw my back out. I don't know if anyone knows this, but this is what kindergardeners do on a playground.

Step One- Wave arms above head in a semi-insane fashion
Step Two-Run around as fast as possible
Step Three- Yell as loud as a human can manage without shattering their own eardrums
Step Four- Fall over
Step Five- Repeat

The problem is that when they fall over, it's invariably in the middle of where all the other kids are running, so in order to make there be as little accident paperwork as possible to fill out, you want to get them up off the ground really quickly. This leads to the pick up the still screaming child and throw them on your hip to carry them over to the fence move. Unfortunately, this move should only be done while paying attention to lifting with your legs not your back, or with really small children. I managed neither. For four days. So by the time I got out on Friday and sat in my car, as I settled in I could hear a distinct popping noise as each vertebrae settled into place.

More later, I promise. I will get four good days of blogging in this week children :)

B-Caz Princess Does Sucking

2007-10-31T08:56:00.000-07:00

Ugh, I woke myself up crying because I have no jobby job. And I'm going to the mall later with Lindsay to apply as holiday help. This is a time I need to make a list of things that don't suck.

1. My hair looks really good, even though I slept in it. (That makes sense.)
2. Someone told me I looked "stunning" yesterday. (10 out of 10 if you can ID that person.)
3. Lindsay Wagner is on TV, oh wait, that doesn't go on this list.
4. Comcast is looking for a receptionist.
5. The Princess of Ireland threw her back out, so she's gonna buy me lunch because she's home and I came over.

OK, that's pretty much all I got.

I really don't care if you sign out . . .

2007-10-26T06:17:00.000-07:00

Blech. Last day. Sooooo tired. Want to sleep for a week. Here, have a funny picture.

Ahhh, reminds me of college.

B-Caz Princess Does Temping

2007-10-22T08:43:00.000-07:00

So, here's the thing about temping. It's temporary. And now my assignment is over. Time to say my goodbyes, clean out my desk, and panic. This is a partial list of the places I've applied so far today.

-St. Vincent's (Bridgeport)
-Yale New Haven
-Sikorsky (Shelton)
-The Hartford (Southington)
-Planned Parenthood (Hartford)

If I get even one interview it'll be the kind of thing where I have to work extra hours at the retail-Hell center to pay for the gas I'll need to get there :P

This week I'm working 76 hours in the next 7 days. W00t.

Dork

2007-10-19T07:53:00.000-07:00

So, thinking of Varez makes me think of stupid memes and argot, so I typed 'hsw' (holy shit w00t) into Google. Apparently, it's not actually an officially recognized l33t phrase, probably meaning that we made it up. However, it did find this incredibly academic article on l33t, which I just think is ri-goddamned. All hail wikipedia.

Also, my ex-coworker just called The Bank to tell me that my car was about to get towed. Damn street sweeping. So I got someone to cover me and I think I made it from here to Lyons Street faster than I have ever gotten five blocks in my entire life. In these fucking shoes. All hail street sweeping.

Stupid stupid stupid shoes

2007-10-19T07:17:00.000-07:00

Back to my silly shoe roots for the day. I knew it was going to be sort of warm out, and also wanted to mebbe show off a little for the hottie at the coffee place. So I got up nice and early, shaved my legs, got dressed, played with Spike (he learned how to kill my toes WHILE I'M IN THE SHOWER without getting wet,) and looked outside to see . . . the grayest, ugliest day ever. So I decided to change into something a little brighter and happier, in the hopes that if I looked cheery I would feel cheery. OK, hrm, brighter and happier. I have, uhh, black, and some more black, and, Oh look! Some more black! Finally I remembered that I still had some clean laundry, and my red shirt was in it. OK, now I'm getting somewhere, red shirt, black skirt and . . . ah hah! Red shoes!

So I got these new shoes and I've pretty much only worn them here, they're very pretty BUT

(those are actually a more expensive Steve Madden version of my shoes, but you get the idea.)

So, they're tall, and they hurt, and it's only 10:30 and I want to go home. Luckily I brought flip flops, so I can wear them when I'm walking back to my car, but I almost left them in the coffee place this morning. (Eek!) I had actually stepped outside to light up and get over to The Bank when I realized that I had left my bag with my flip flops hanging on my chair. So I nicely asked the first person that came by if she'd mind just grabbing it for me, as I'd just lit up and it was RAINING, so it wasn't like I could just rest my ciggie on the railing and run inside. To which she promptly bitched me out ("You COULD put out your cigarette and get it yourself, *insert exasperated girly noise basically implying "bitch" here.*) My day has not been going well so far. I'm thinking the giant blisters forming both on my heels and around my toes aren't helping. Thank God Varez is coming. It's like Christmas and Easter and kittens and bunnies and glitter all rolled up into one! :-D

P.S. I almost killed the Princess of Ireland last night with the following line "Fagerino uno. It's like a Prima Ballerina. But with butt sex."

OMFG WTF

2007-10-18T10:58:00.000-07:00

So, I'm sitting in my roll-y chair, answering the phone (as is my way,) when my chair rolls backward. I pitch forward, and trying to keep myself from slamming my nose into my keyboard, I flail out with my hand. Which is under the desk. So I slam my wrist into the underside of my desk, almost (but not quite) breaking my wrist. I am the smoothest person ever. And now for some mindless entertainment.

Go here.

I <3 Varez

2007-10-18T06:55:00.000-07:00

Because I can't think of anything else, and I can't wait to see mah bebbe . . .

Top 10 Reasons I love Varez (and not you) (yes, these are all annoying memes)

10. Boom booms
9. Purple flavored boom booms (driving down 787 into Troy blasting Purple Rain for the first time I had ever heard it, sweet)
8. It's a mailbox
7. Snuggling and watching Akira while dying of plague
6. There is no morning, there is only light and dark
5. Having coffee before class . . . and never making it to class (yay for Swilloughby's for air-mailing me coffee in college)
4. Our new safe word (I think it's apple)
3. Fuck the Ruck, and meeting me at Holmes and Watson the day I tried to run away from home
2. Take away the red border from #2, that is asshole, and a variety of other stupid EMAC jokes that I doubt even Tristan would get at this point
1. Holding hands, counting the steps to walk home from ACACIA and passing out in the hallway of GZ because neither of us could get home alone, so we just stayed together.

I can't wait bebbe. *muah*

B-Caz Princess Does Karaoke

2007-10-17T08:32:00.000-07:00

And, oh my God, I can't wait. See, it's been like a month, because the last karaoke was cancelled for blah blah blah some stupid reason, and so it's been a while. Trust me when I say that I need this. I miss it. Like the deserts miss the rain. (Just getting into the cheesey part early in the night.)

So here's my dilemma, I have 4 basic themes that I can go with for the evening. There's Maureen's Greatist Hits- consisting of Black Velvet, Little Red Corvette, the entire score of Rent, etc. Also there's Cheese, this is mostly 80s music; Cindy Lauper, whoever sings Jesse's Girl, you know, the cheesey stuff. Then there's my other two options, which I'm strongly leaning towards. I can do Sad Chick Music; Bonnie Raitt, Michelle Branch, the entire score of Rent; or I can do Angry Chick music; Dixie Chicks, Lisa Loeb, the entire score of Rent.

Any suggestions?

B-Caz Princess Does Belly Dancing!

2007-10-16T07:11:00.000-07:00

I gots me some pictures! Of course, you'll have to bear with me, as they're mostly blurry, cut off, or pictures of the girl in front of me, but, well, whatever.

So, here's us waiting to go on (for 45 freaking minutes, sorry to everyone who was waiting in the audience, but trust me, we had it worse. The Princess of Ireland (thanks to her I have these pictures) has seen me before performances 85,000 times and told me she has never seen me that nervous, ever.) You can just barely make out my face in the back, with the 3 tons of makeup that I'm wearing.

Fascinating, no? Finally (for a 2 and a half minute thing I prepped for an hour and then waited in the wings for 45 minutes) we go on and you can get a clear view of . . . a blotchy brush mark in my armpit!!!!

OK, no more commentary, the last two are OK, at least you can sort of see my outfit (I know the Queen was wondering.)

(OK, that's really the only one that I like, but you can see my cool purple-y veil thing in the last one.)

Anyway, w00t w00t, hopefully next time I'll get some better ones. Kudos to the Princess of Ireland once again, both for the pictures and the mini-mums! :-D

P.S. I want it!!!!!!!

She Ain't Got That Swing . . .

2007-10-15T07:09:00.000-07:00

. . . Thanks for noticing. (That was really the relevant part for the title, but QUICK name that buffy episode :-D)

So, yeah, I like to talk about my hair. This morning I got a comment that I had done something different to my hair. (I also got a comment that I was wearing different eye makeup from Broker That Notices Things No Straight Man Should Notice, but as I'm not wearing any makeup today I'm not going to give him any credit.) Now, the only thing that I did differently this morning was that I blow dried my hair, which I have been known to do on occasion. I think the difference lies somewhere in the fact that I have absolutely no idea what I'm doing when I do my hair, especially in the morning.

For the most part my hair care routine is as follows: Lather, rinse, don't bother repeating since my hair is too short, condition, rinse. On the rare occasions that I do blowdry my hair, I add the following: Throw some goo in my hair, shake hair dry vaguely around back, get giant round brush, shake hair dryer vaguely around, spritz with shiny spray stuff, go to work. The reason that it always looks different is that half the time I just let it do whatever, it's like Medusa'a in the morning, and the other half the mirror's so fogged up that I can't even see it. Which brings me to the point, somehow this morning I gave myself soccer mom hair. And got complimented. And now I want to crawl into a hole and die. With some soothing chamomile, because that's what old people drink, right?

UPDATE: I just body checked myself into the door coming back from the bathroom. In front of the Ops Manager. I will never live this down.

Holy Crap!

2007-10-12T13:58:00.001-07:00

I want it.

B-Caz Princess Does Kicking Ass

2007-10-12T06:10:00.000-07:00

So tomorrow is my belly dance recital. (It's not really a recital per se, but I will be performing in front of people half naked, which should be fun.) This morning, speaking with Idiot Broker Who Shall Remain Nameless, the following ensued:

Blondie: Tomorrow's my belly dance recital.
Idiot Broker Who Shall Remain Nameless: Ohh, do you guys like, get naked and do each other when you're done?
Blondie: Yes, yes we do. Do you think before you speak?
Idiot Broker Who Shall Remain Nameless: No, no I don't.

This is the same one who tried to convince me that global warming was a good idea because in 20 years he'll have waterfront property. Stupid Republicans . . .

B-Caz Princess Does Getting Ink

2007-10-09T06:19:00.001-07:00

So, I'm catching up on my news feeds this morning, and I came across this in the BBC. Now, I don't know about anyone else, but I know plenty of "normal" people that have tattoos. And I know this because I'm one of them.

I love getting tattood. I love the process, I love the smells, the sound of the gun, the inane banter between you and your artist while you're grabbing the back of the chair trying not to move. It's good for me. I know there are people that think it's vulgar, I deal with them a lot. My boss in retail-hell thinks that they look unprofessional and tacky and vulgar. She also thinks that swearing is horrific and W is the second coming of Christ, so we'll just ignore her, k?

I have no problem with the fact that people seem to take issue with my ink. Especially because I don't look like the kind of girl that would have any. But I take issue with the people that seem incredulous that "normal" (I'm using the BBC's quotes here) people would get inked at all. I don't feel the need to explain my tats to anyone. They're all very personal, and they all mean something, and damnit, it's none of your business. I'll show them off because I like them, I think they're all beautiful, and for me it's kind of like showing off anything else about myself, my witty personality, my increasingly attractive (thank you belly dancing) figure, or my encyclopedic knowledge of Buffy. I'll tell people what my tats mean if/when I feel close enough to let them know everything that has ever happened to me in my life. Until then, I'll just go with the most basic of explanations, I like them. Argh, I don't think this post went exactly where I wanted to go or said what I wanted to say. Read the story, see my ink, get over it.

God I love being a girl

2007-10-05T11:17:00.001-07:00

He he he. This is so much fun.

Tuesday:
Blondie: Listen, Broker, I'm going to give you a gift. Because you are one of my favorite brokers, I'm going to tell you this now. I will be getting a haircut on Friday afternoon. More likely than not it will be substantially shorter than it is now. I'm telling you so that you will comment on it and I own't get mad at you for not noticing.
Broker: Oh wow, thanks, I wish my wife would do that, I'd get yelled at a lot less.

Today:
Blondie: Hey, Broker, do you remember what I'm doing later today.
Broker: *blank look* *look of blind fear* No! But I'm not supposed to notice until Monday! I'll notice then, I swear!

Later Today:
Blondie: Broker, do you remember yet?
Broker: *look of blind fear*

And I'll get to do this for the rest of the day and possibly all day on Monday. :-D

Kind of Scary . . .

2007-10-05T06:53:00.000-07:00

So, I have this thing. I'm white. And I'm privelaged. And I feel heinously guilty about it. I also have this thing where I feel that I have to be unaffected by the ghetto that surrounds my town. It's just the way it is, because if you're white and privelaged and you act frightened or affected in some way when travelling through the ghetto it makes you a racist. That being said . . .

I'm on way home from Grey's Anatomy last night, and I always cut over by Hillhouse and through the Hill section to get home. It's the most direct way and there's less lights. Usually it take me about 10 minutes at night or first thing in the morning, a little longer during the day, as opposed to going through downtown, which always seems to take forever. So I pull up to a red light, and there's a car in front of me, whith a group of young black men standing next to it, they're talking to the driver. This is not unheard of, people run into each other, they talk, in the middle of the road, it annoys me when I'm stuck behind them but whatever. The light turns green, then yellow, then red. I'm starting to think about scams back in Trizzoi where one summer there was a rash of carjackings by groups that would stop in front of you and behind you and then rush your car. But I brush it off. I am white, I am not afraid, that would make me a racist. Finally the car goes, tursn the corner and continues, the young men step onto the curb, and I wait for the light to turn green AGAIN. Are they looking at me? I light up a cigarette, look unaffected, and keep going. Next intersection.

SAME FUCKING THING. This intersection happens to be right outside of a bar, so a little more understandable, I can't count how many times I've run into the street in front of Rudy's to quick say hi to someone in a car driving by, but they're not even stopped at a red light. They're stopped at a blinking light. Once again I look unaffected, although now that it's two lights in a row I'm starting to freak out. I wish I had someone to call, so I'd at least be on the phone if I get carjacked. But no, picking up my phone would make me look frightened, which would make me a racist. *sigh* The car goes, I drive home. It has taken me 25 minutes to do a drive that takes 15 in the middle of the day when school's in session.

Am I the only person that freaks about looking like I'm afraid when I kind of am? Does the fact that I even think about it in those terms make me less of a good person? More prejudiced? More judgemental? I suppose it could simply be said that I'm more socially aware, but that still doesn't keep me from feeling guilty. Anyone want to be my phone buddy the next time I'm driving home through the ghetto?

You've Got To Be Kidding Me!

2007-10-02T13:47:00.000-07:00

Oh my freaking God--

Blondie- Good Afternoon, *bank I work at's name,* how may I direct your call?
Idiot Customer- Hello, is this *bank I work at's name*?

Seriously, it wouldn't piss me off so much if it wasn't for the fact that this is NOT the first time this has happened. Today. *sheesh*

Spike Does Killing Everything

2007-10-01T06:51:00.001-07:00

So, I still don't have any pictures to put up, because they're only on my phone, but I will try to get some while the bebbe is still cute. In other news, Spike did a wonderful job this weekend of killing everything dead.

In addition to the evil toes of death, Spike has killed:

1. The Evil Window
2. The Evil Cup
3. The Evil Door Knob
4. The Evil Roommate's Leg
5. The Evil Shoes
6. The Evil Rug
7. The Evil Houseplant
8. The Evil Beer Bottle
9. The Evil Mom's Hand
and my personal favorite
10. The Evil Toilet Paper

This morning I was awakened by Spike's new calisthenics routine, which involves running from the living room or somewhere outside of the bedroom, into the bedroom, up onto the bed, down the length of the side that I'm not on and into the headboard, where he launches himself against the headboard, turns around, and goes the other way. Repeat. For an hour. Sometimes he switches it up by running on top of me instead of the side of the bed that I'm not on. Happy kitty ownership indeed.

HSW KITTY!!!!!!

2007-09-24T07:05:00.000-07:00

I think it's vaguely fitting that this is my 40th post, and I wanted to hold off to write something cool, and I think I may have it. Lots and lots and lots of news, specifically of the reinventing my life variety. First and foremost

I GOT A KITTY!!!!!!! And he's so so so cute. His name is Spike (after the Buffy character, yes) and he likes snuggling, watching Buffy (I swear it's Buffy and not just the moving lights,) and getting those scary scary evil toes. They're out to get him, and he's not gonna take it anymore.

Also, my kitchen is, well, half done. Specifically, the bottom half. I was too short to reach the tops of my ceilings, so I'm calling in the troops. The very tall troops. The aforementioned troops will also be helping me tape out my bedroom, which I did get the paint for, and I did find eco-friendly paint, although I decided not to go the all natural, organic milk paint route. Yes, yes, I'm a lazy crass American and have no compassion for the environment, blah blah blah, at least I didn't get the crazy pollut-o paint and pour it down my drain.

Last, but certainly not least, I managed to parry my new penchant for reinvention into the best of all possible therapies-- makeup shopping. I decided that I've been wearing the same colors for two years and it was time for a change, so I went the bright red lipstick route, complete with new eye shadow and gawking construction workers. I think I'm doing well so far, any more suggestions?

B-Caz Princess Does Origami

2007-09-21T06:42:00.000-07:00

So, I have very little to do. This is not really news to anyone, certainly anyone who read my treatise on Barbie. So some days I have to make my own fun, and trying to be productive leads to While You Were Out pink origami. It just does.

It started with someone having a bad day. At this point I can't even tell you who it was, but someone was having a bad day. So the only origami thing I could remember how to do off the top of my head was this little thing called a 'Samurai helmet' at least, that's what it was called in the origami book I had when I was like 10. So I left it on said person's desk with a little note that said "so-and-so's happy hat!" Very cute, they thought it was funny, and we move on. Well, it turns out that there's a lot of people having bad days in this place, so I ended up making a lot of happy hats, and in particular one poor bastard, Broker with a gun from my previous "Wilson Philips" post, who now hosts a whole wardrobe of happy hats.

Eventually, it got to the point where this poor bastard needed something more than a happy hat, so I set out trying to do that stupid crane. Unfortunately, the crane is well beyond my paper-folding capabilities, and getting designs off the internet doesn't really make for good cranes either. But I finally prevailed, and poor bastard broker is now the proud owner of an only slightly malformed paper crane.

This morning, poor bastard broker did me a huge favor (moving my car when it became clear that I had parked in a place where it was 100% certain that I would be towed over the course of the day) and I felt that I needed to thank him in a way that was a little more than happy hat and a little less than blow job. So I trawled the internet for something that I thought I could reasonably pull off and lo and behold I came across that inflatable bunny! In ten minutes I had, well, a very flat bunny, damn thing wouldn't inflate no matter how much I blew into it (!) so I poked around inside it with a paper clip and *poof* inflatable bunny for poor bastard broker's paper menagerie! (He actually was on the phone when I gave it to him, so I didn't get to tell him what it was until he came out just now and he actually knew that it was a bunny already! Yay me!) Next, I'm thinking one of those crazy origami villages that they make on the discovery channel. No?

Wow

2007-09-18T13:01:00.000-07:00

So in between episodes of extremely interesting envelope stuffing and nose blowing today, I decided that it's time to start getting ready for Christmas/holiday shopping. In accordance with last year, I will NOT purchase Christmas/Holiday cards or gift wrap, but will instead make myself insane searching out completely non-denominational, non-seasonal (ok, maybe some snow flakes) products because I know I will end up with far too much and will have extra for during the year when I all of sudden realize that I forgot someone's birthday and am running around trying to regift some decorative soap that's been sitting in my bedroom for the better part of the last year. Also, since I'm starting early, why not get started on the actual shopping too? Some of it is even done already!

OK, first person that pops into my mind, the Princess of Ireland, obviously. She already has a wish list on Amazon and everything! But I made a decision a long time ago not to give her DVDs, but only cool presents, hrm. What to do? Ah ha! I click over to the Kitchen Aid store and start browsing for Artisan Mixer attatchments! Obviously. Right? Cuz . . . we're not . . . THAT old . . .

Sheesh, now I feel sick, tired, and old. Great.

Can we say . . .

2007-09-18T08:57:00.000-07:00

Hand-made hipster X-Mas cards? Oh yes, I think we can :-D

Nothing Smells Better Than Napalm in the Morning

2007-09-17T05:59:00.000-07:00

Unless it's a call from Varez in the evening! (Which, yes, I agree, doesn't make any sense, but it kind of scans, and I worked on it all morning, so shut up.)

Especially when it's an unexpected call, when I know he's on another coast. The best part though, was that I got to hear a funny anecdote about Tall Paul, who, for those of you who didn't go to RPI with me, is the funniest person on the face of a planet. The anecdote in question involved Tall Paul sucking at driving and directions, and generally being a fucktard, which I always find amusing, especially because it doesn't involve me, in car, hyperventilating. Actually, in that particular instance, Tall Paul was my lifesaver, well, Tall Paul and Sartre the Frog.

OK, obviously going off on some weird tangent. Here's the relevant news, I actually got up and blow dried my haird this morning. I never do this before work because I always convince myself that it's going to take an hour, thus cutting into my valuable sitting outside of Willoughby's and smoking time. You know what? It doesn't, it takes like 10 minutes. The best part? I've had three brokers ask me if I lost weight, two ask me if I dyed my hair a different color, and three CSAs tell me how lovely I look today :) Score one for the blonde with the blowdryer. Now all I need is a call from Yale HR and my day will be complete!

P.S. Varez, I know you won't read this right away, but I love you bebbe!

B-Caz Princess Does ReDecorating

2007-09-07T09:16:00.001-07:00

So, nothing says "I'm getting over someone" like taking on some kind of crazy home improvement project. Last night I put together my new bed, and now I'm starting to think about something a little more dramatic. Just in case you were wondering, my old crappy IKEA bed completely shit the bucket, so I needed to replace it. With . . . another . . . crappy . . . IKEA bed.

Obviously the first thing I need to do is clean, like, whoa. And I can't seem to get it together to really do that, but that's the first step. Then I know I'm getting a whole bunch of glasses from Hotel Bez (or whatever I decide to rename it now) thanks to Ashley's giant painting project, so that will relieve my urgent need to shop. But then what?

I'm thinking paint. Lots of paint. All over my apartment. I mean, the place hasn't been painted in seven years and my landlord already told me he'd take it off the rent if I did it myself, so what the hell? But of course, the problem becomes color. I don't want to do plain white in my bedroom because it's boring, but I also can't do anything really drastic because I'll have to repaint it later. So I'm thinking something like this. Look at Jicama and Isis next to each other. That would be cool, right? Of course, actually ordering organic paint, while super cool, will also be hella expensive, so I'll probably end up just going to Home Depot and getting some shit on sale, but it's an idea. I think the kitchen should just be white, and I should do my room, and other than that, let the rest slide for now. I can always do the living room in the spring, and as long as I can rope people into helping; i.e. my invisible roommate, who left town for a month and a half, came home for a day, left for a week, came home for four days, left for the weekend, came back for a day and a half and will be back today; maybe I can get it done next week. Yeah, and all the cleaning will get done too. :-P

Yar

2007-08-27T13:01:00.000-07:00

OK, here's the way it's supposed to work.

Bad Client
B-Caz Princess: I'm sorry, so-an-so has stepped away from their desk, may I offer you his/her voicemail?
Client: Umm, hem, haw. OK, let's leave him/her a voicemail. Tell him/her that I called and I want--
B-Caz Princess: Well, why don't you let me tranfer you to his/her voicemail?
Client- Oh, OK.
B-Caz Princess: *transfer button* *so-and-so who's not here's extension* *pound sign*
*whimper*

Good Client
B-Caz Princess: I'm sorry, so-an-so has stepped away from their desk, may I offer you his/her voicemail?
Client- Oh, OK.
B-Caz Princess: *transfer button* *so-and-so who's not here's extension* *pound sign*

See, the problem is, I am not a voicemail box, so that whole middle section should just not exist. OK? Thanks!

B-Caz Princess Does Bad Self Help

2007-08-27T11:27:00.001-07:00

There comes a time in every Princesses life where she will have to overcome some awful tragedy; death, disease, bad hair; and it's important to know where to turn when you feel that you can't go on. No, not Jesus. Sorry Jesus (cuz Jesus reads my blog) it's just that I'd rather go to:

The Self Help Section

Now, in the self help section, there are a variety of subcategories, today I'm only going to focus on specific books that have changed my life, in incredible ways. By making me laugh so hard that a small Eastern European country came out of my nose. (Complete with awesome exchange rate.)

The first one was this. Given to my last roommate by her mother (!) it purports to tell you how to get a husband after 35, using things like brand recognition and spreadsheets. Seriously, this was the funniest thing I've ever read, and sadly enough there are people out there who will take it seriously. I mean, I guess it's not that silly, just more sad, that there are smart, available women out there that can't get dates, but who wants to be the psycho who resorts to calling, literally, every single person they know and telling them that this is the year they're going to find a husband? And changing your routines every day so you're more likely to meet people? Also there's an entire chapter on lowering your standards. Speaking as someone who, in the past, has included among my standards such stellar capabilities as "Being able to stand on two legs instead of four most of the time," I don't think that lowering my standards is going to make me any more capable of finding dates. In fact, I've done a lot of work on RAISING my standards, so getting advice like this is really, really disheartening.

The second most useless book I've ever read was The Secret. OK, OK, I know that it's helpped millions of people and spawned a multi-million dollar franchise, but it just didn't do it for me. I mean, all this New-Age-y crap about asking the universe what you want is fine, and I have no problems with meditation, prayer, or whatever you want to call it, but the fact remains, these things have been said time and time by better people in better ways. Trust me, I'm an expert on that New-Age-y crap, I was raised with it. And I actually do believe some of it. But not to the creepy extent that The Secret goes into it. Yeesh.

Now for the good part, and yes, there is a good part. These are the two things that actually have helped me, only one of them's a book, but it's a book that I've read time and time again and actually has helped to raise the aforementioned standards without making me feel guilty or stupid about it. Hah, you thought it was gonna be something different? No, this cheesy, Oprah-lauded little book has actually followed me now over a series of bad break-ups, guys that "weren't looking for a girlfriend (but I still want to sleep with you" and generally guys that, honestly, I was putting way to much effort into in the first place. And now I read it whenever I'm having a bad day, because it's just funny.

The other thing that always helps is a little tradition I like to call "Buffy and Beer." Now before you get all down on Buffy and Beer, let me qualify that a bit. For one thing, it doesn't have to be Buffy, it could be West Side Story, or Rent, or some other TV show on DVD, but it must be something that you're both comfortable with and find entertaining enough to watch over and over. Also, it doesn't have to be beer. It could be wine, or gingerale, or even on a really hot day, water. So I guess my last self-help technique could be more aptly termed "Sitting On The Couch And Consuming A Beverage, Or Possibly Some Chocolate, Or At Least Smoking A Lot Of Cigarettes, While Watching Something On The TV." But Buffy and Beer sounds a lot cooler.

B-Caz Princess Does Dating

2007-08-22T08:23:00.000-07:00

Well, not really. Before I get into it, a quick note. When you call a business and the receptionist says "I'm sorry, so and so is on another call, would you like his/her voicemail?" it is not necessary to tell her your name. You should tell that to the beep in the voicemail system. I promise you, unless it's an emergency, in which case, she will page whoever it is anyway, she will not see/tell the person that you want to speak with that she put you in their voicemail. Really, she won't. She doesn't care what your name is.

OK, so back to the point. I have not even begun to think about dating again, except in that sort of vague, this is gonna suck kind of a way. However, I was having a discussion with the aforementioned insane friend the other night about picking up guys, since she has managed to do so at a bar for the first time, uhh, ever. A few things occurred to me.

A. Picking up a guy in a bar is never a good idea.
B. It's even less of a good idea if the bar is a dive bar.
C. Guys that will mesh well with my stupid corporate lifestyle are going to be found at more upscale (read expensive) bars, and will probably be older than me, since the elongated childhood of American 20-somethings means that I'm more likely to meet guys my age working in food service and retail and less likely to find ones with office jobs. Unless they're married/gay/some other form of unavailable.

With all of this in mind, I started thinking about all the places in New Haven one could go to pick up a date, whether it be for a conversation, a one night thing, or possibly some sort of actual relationship. What has spewed forth is something I like to call

Dating in the Elm City

Section One: Bars

There are three types of bars, and the type of men that you will find at each place varies just as much. The first type, my personal favorite, is the dive bar. This will feature townies mostly. The men that hang out at dive bars tend to be workers from other bars, or other townie service industry jobs. Tread carefully here, because a strong 'regulars' culture prevades. This means that the women that hang out here can be very protective, and if you even go home with a regular once you may feel very unwelcome the next time you stick your head in there. If you are a regular, don't bring your new relationships here, take them to Sullivan's. Examples of dive bars include Longshots, Rudy's, and the Anchor.

The second type of bar isn't really a bar, but all of Crown Street. This is where the pimple-crowd gathers, and is the perfect place to go when you're looking for a guy from the burbs who wears "those striped shirts that everyone's wearing." And popped collars, eww. If you aren't blinded by the glitter sported by the girls that hang out here, you will find that the men you meet may be very young, vapid, and will happily drink Bud Light. If this appeals to you, God help you. Examples of the Crown street club street include Alchemy, Hammer Jack's, and Toad's Place Saturday night Dance Party now that it's open again.

The third type of bar is where you go when you're looking for guys that work 9-5, and apparently is where I will be hanging when I decide it's time to get back on the horse, uhh, so to speak. This is the post-30 divorcee bar scene, and is characterized by happy hours in suits and women that are waaaay more well-coiffed than you. A word of caution, when making the transition into the post-30 divorcee bar scene, one should be sure to steer clear of things like "wow, my dad likes that band," or "so your ex-wife is only two years old than my mom." Also try not to reference Dave Matthews Band, AIM, or any sort of computer game after Atari. Examples of this scene include Hot Tomatos, Delaneys, and J.P Dempseys.

When I return, Section 2: Everywhere else, or dating without social lube.

B-caz Princess Does Driving

2007-08-20T12:52:00.000-07:00

Now, as many people know, I haven't done a LOT of driving since I got my license. What with one thing and another (living on campus, living downtown, being poor) I didn't get a car until recently, and even then it was only through the generosity of the Queen, who presented me with 'Eva the Rolla' her Corolla for my burfday. Reading this today, however, prompted me to think about my driving experiences, both the banal and bizarre. So here goes.

At age 17, the Princess finally was inducted in the world of the licensed. This was preceeded by a very short time at Sears driving school of Hamden, CT, where her royal instructor was a midget by the name of, umm, I don't remember. He was a frickin' midget driving instructor, what more detail do you need to know? This was highlighted by him using the royal driving hours to run errands in West Haven, which was also the site of the first royal almost accident. This entire experience led to the recording of The Pantytwisters first hit single "Midget Driving Instructor." (It was mostly about midget porn.)

Fast forward a few years: The Princess has now begun attending college, and quickly realizes the need for a job. So she applies at the local hospital, thinking that with her Yale Hospital backround she'll be a shoo-in for some low-level admin position. Instead she is hired by the courier services department and is taught how to drive on the highway by a short, balding, blind real estate agent.

Present day B-Caz Princess: Finally! The Princess has acquired a royal chariot that will bring her anywhere she desires. Except that in the first week, she gets two parking tickets and her seatbelt explodes. Still, 'Eva the Rolla Corolla' is living up to the dream, and all she has to do is wait for the pink fuzzy glitter dice in the mail. Until then, she adorned with a small, auxilliary backup die- it lights up when you smack it on the dashboard.

B-Caz Princess Does Laughing Her Ass Off

2007-08-17T11:29:00.000-07:00

The Princess and two of her brokers, standing outside smoking.

Broker #1: You just have to think positive.
Broker #2: Yeah, like in that song from the nineties. You know 'I know that there is pain, but you hold on for one more day.'
*Long Pause* *Broker#1 and the Princess look at each other*
Broker #2: Yep, that song really helped me turn my life around."
*Long Pause*
Everyone: HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAAA!!!!!
Broker #1: Yeah, or you could just get a shotgun.
Princess: Dude, I'm totally gonna write that down and put it on the internet. But don't worry, I'll change your name so know one will know how gay you are.

And that, my friends, is comedy.

B-Caz Princess Does Hanging Up on People

2007-08-17T08:31:00.000-07:00

The next person, seriously, NEXT person that calls here and yells at me because their broker isn't here, or the CSA isn't here, or they don't have a check yet, or the stock market is down and they lost money in the last week is going to get my foot in their ass. No, not really, I'm just going to hang up on them. For the record, everyone in the universe needs to know:

A. I neither control the stock market nor the weather. Sorry.
B. Your broker is probably out golfing with a client that makes more money than you do. Honestly, if they liked you, you'd have their cell number and/or know that they are out golfing because you're with them.
C. When half the CSA's are out on flex time every other Friday and half of the brokers are in a conference in another state, there is really, honestly nothing I can do for you.
D. For the love of Christ stop calling on a Friday in the summer and assuming your broker is going to be here!

B-Caz Princess Does Eating

2007-08-16T09:08:00.000-07:00

Woo hoo! Eating for the first time in almost four days has got to be one of the best things ever. Admittedly it was two pieces of crappy pizza and that was it (although I did bring a slim-fast to work with me, just because they're easy to get down and keep you alive.) My plan for the night, if I can get out of retail-hell, is to clean my apartment. Like, i want laundry done, I want bedroom rearranged, I want things actually folded and PUT AWAY instead of in a giant heap on my ottoman. And if I can do that until it's time for bed, I think I'll be OK. Luckily, a very wise, OK, mostly just crazy, friend told me last night "You're gonna be OK, you'll make it through this. You're the girl that makes it through things for fuck's sake. I admire and am jealous of your ability to make it through things." Considering that this was coming from the girl who, when faced with the breakup of a two weeks relationship that she didn't really like very much, has been known to be catatonic for days I don't know how much of a compliment that was, but it made me feel better.

Because it's true, I am the girl who makes it through things. I always have been and I always will be. Because I'm awesome. Damnit.

Wiggle Your Big Toe

2007-08-15T10:07:00.000-07:00

The three comandments for the day, affirmations, if you will. Say them with me now.

1. Get up and go to work.
2. Park far away for free so you can save that $14 for something else.
And last but, oh no, certainly not least.
3. You need to eat or you're going to die.

Repeat.

Single Update

2007-08-14T13:41:00.000-07:00

OK, I have to put this out there. I did not text him today, not once, I did not email, I did not call. I changed my sheets last night and deleted all of my cutesie text messages and pictures and his cutesie nickname from my phone. I haven't managed to eat anything substantial yet, but I did eat a fruit tart on my lunch break. I only burst into tears twice. I brought "He's Just Not That Into You" with me to work and read most of it on my lunch break (me and the ex-roommate used to read it out loud to each other whenever we had gone through a breakup.) I still feel like I'm gonna puke, but I've noticed that, with enough deep breaths I can make the feeling subside for a few minutes. I still get a pang whenever I look at my phone stubbornley refusing to ring or text-beep, and whenever I check my email and it's empty, but I've stopped looking at them as much as I did yesterday, when me and the clock face on my phone had a staring contest throughout most of the day. I made it through a whole day at the office and decided not to try to get out of retail-hell tonight. This too, I will survive, although I'm starting to think that 2007 is really out to get me.

B-Caz Princess Does being Single

2007-08-13T17:02:00.000-07:00

And it sucks. It sucks to holy high hell, and I think I just forgot how much it sucks. It sucks because we were fine, it sucks because I knew it was coming, it sucks because he's been so nice about it (apart from the actual breaking up part, obviously that wasn't nice,) it sucks because he told me he misses me, and it sucks because I know that it'll probably happen again, at some point, with some other guy. Hopefully next time it will be for a reason, like we fight all the time, or he's bad in bed, or something. Also, one of our friends from high school died, and I don't even know what to think about that. It's so strange to see it in print "Clarissa Blue, pronounced dead at . . . " So RIP Clarissa, I miss knowing you were still around somewhere down south, drinking, and making bad racist jokes about yourself and generally being a chick that it's a blast to hang out with.

OMFG

2007-08-08T13:25:00.000-07:00

Everyone on the internet is hella into Jesus. I wish I had a link, but I don't, there's just too many . . .

Coffee, Guilt, and EWWWWWW!!!!!

2007-08-08T10:59:00.000-07:00

Although not necessarily in that order.

So last night when I got home from work, I knew exactly what i had to do. Running through there Monday morning after the No-Good-Horrible-Very-Bad-Day that was my Sunday, and also to some extent my Monday, I noticed a familiar, rather pungent odor emminating from my sink. since I hadn't been home in a few days, I had a pretty good idea of what it was. And I was totally correct. Moldy Tupperware, the bane of all who are lazy and forgetful, was in danger of taking over my sink, my kitchen, my apartment, and possibly my entire block. Not one to let things slide, I promptly secured the lid back on the tupperware and dashed out of the house. My Monday night in shambles and my double work day on Tuesday over, I arrived home in dread, remembering the LAST time I had this problem.

It was possibly even worse, just taking the lid off, breathing through my mouth, I gagged and almost threw up. Luckily, I was able to scrape the contents into the garbage without incident and filled up the container with hot, soapy water that gave off the pleasant aroma of oranges . . . and mold. I saved the container for last, hoping the lapse would have given the hot soapy water time to do it's job. Unfortunately this was not the case, and I washed the thing four times before deciding it was clean enough. Next time you come over, don't eat anything out of my Tupperware, because it's a mystery as to which one it was, they all look the same.

Onto coffee and guilt. Now, I'm as PC as the next person, but I've noticed a few things about the panhandlers in this town. One: there's substantially more of them than there were 5 years ago. Two: they're not as nice as they used to be. Where once there was at least a modicum of politeness in a panhandling encounter- "Excuse me, sorry to bother you, but do you have any change," now, when walking down the streets you get- "gimme some money!" followed by a dirth of muttering and swearing in your general direction when you decline. I have still tried to maintain an apologetic attitude when refusing to give people my hard-earned money (cuz let's face it, it costs a lot of money to look this fabulous,) and certainly never simply ignore anyone, that would just be rude. But today while walking to get my caffeinated beverage of choice, I spotted the woman known well for the aforementioned muttering and swearing and pulled out my phone, pretending to make a call and talk while I walked by her so I'd have an excuse to ignore her. And then I felt really, really guilty. But why? I just didn't want to get yelled at, but something in me still felt guilty for ignoring her, even though I know that, in the long run, it probably doesn't make that much of a difference.

Finally, coffee. I went into my favorite coffee shop to get my caffeinated beverage of choice, iced, since it's 90 degrees out, and was confronted by the manager.

Manager: "You're getting hot coffee, right?"
B-Caz Princess: "No, I want iced, it's 90 degrees out.
M: "But it's Mocha Java, I picked it just for you when I made the feature list last week."
B: "But, but, but . . ."
M: "Here, I'll give you a cup of ice and you can put some of it in now to have iced for now, and keep the hot for later when you're back in the office."

Wow, I think I need to either stop going there so much, or start tipping them more, that's what I call service :)

B-Caz Princess does the Internet

2007-07-30T13:17:00.000-07:00

So, I've brought you hats of meat. I've brought you all the silly things on my sidebard. But today, from the same silly site that has a big fat cat wanting a cheeseburger I have to share this with you.

I don't even know what the hell this is.

I can't tell if it's an online game, or an ad for a PS2 game, or some Asian person's LSD trip. I do know that there's e-cards, and each one is slightly more surreal than the last.

I also know that there are many people out there who make it their day to day bl-ob (blog-job, I made it up) to recount the many many instances of the internet making them crazy, or stupider, or in some cases, evil geniuses. I know that those people exist, and I don't want to be one of them. But COME ON NOW!!!!

It sounds more sexy than it is . . .

2007-07-27T09:17:00.000-07:00

The original title of this post was 'B-Caz Princess Does Famous People,' it didn't work out.

So yesterday I was walking across the street and a freaking butterfly flew into my face, literally almost causing me to walk into traffic. The Princess was not pleased, especially when she realized that to explain she would have to use the phrase "so this butterfly tried to kill me . . ."

Last night, nearing the end of her 12 and a half hour day, the Princess encountered her least favorite type of customer, especially during a sale. The cranky old lady. And this cranky old lady was no exception, she almost threw a hissy fit when informed that the item she had selected was not only not 75% off, but not on sale at all. "Well," she huffed, "maybe the signs should say 75% off on MOST ITEMS." Which, coincidentally, is exactly what they say. Smiling on the outside, groaning on the inside, the Princess attempted to smooth things over, even offering to giftwrap the harridon's purchases, in flagrant disregard of the company policy stating that giftwrap should only be given out during non-sale times. WTFever, let Alexia Crawford come to New Haven and deal with this bitch, she mused.

Then, somthing curious happened, another customer started fawning all over the harridon, claiming that she was "the biggest insiration" to said customers life, even bringing her 16 year old son over to practically be blessed by this woman. Confused, the princess mouthed "who is that?" over the customer's shoulder to her son. Shrugging, the kid mouthed back "I don't know."

After the harridon had left, the Princess asked the customer to explain. "Oh, that was Julie Wilson," as if the name would obviously kick off something in anyone's mind. "OK," the Princess replied, determined to find out who this was, she proceeded to call everyone she knew, asking if they knew who the harridon was. The Queen knew nothing, the boy knew nothing, even the manager knew nothing. So, the next morning, to the internet it was. Julie Wilson was an incredibly famous, incredibly acclaimed actress and cabaret singer from the 50s, who is in New Haven performing with the summer Cabaret series. The reason the Princess found this so hard to believe is as follows. This is her in the 50s.

This is her now.

Thus needing to change the title of the post.

Update: Does she remind you of anyone?

I'm ready for my close-up!

More fun with voicemail

2007-07-25T10:16:00.000-07:00

So, I have a fundamental problem with this whole voicemail thing. I am required, by the powers that be, to say "May I offer you his/her voicemail" when trying to put a client into a broker's voicemail box. First of all, by even saying that, I am obviously offering them the option of leaving a voicemail, so to say "May I offer you . . ." is sort of besides the point. Second of all, noone's going to respond "Yes, please offer me that option."

So today the phone rings, and it goes something like this.

Blondie- Good afternoon *place that I work,* how may I direct your call?
Client- Yes, I'd like to speak to so-and-so-who's-not-here.
B- I'm sorry, so-and-so-that's-not-here has stepped away from his/her desk, may I offer yourhis/her voicemail? *Grits teeth over stupidity of aforementioned sentence*
C- Yeah, uhh, can you transfer me to his/her voicemail?

Now, it may not sound that stupid, but remember, the client basically just said "yes, I'd like to leave them a voicemail," and then proceeded to ask me if they could. Like, I would then say, "No! Hahahahahaha!" and hang up. *sigh* Maybe I'm overreacting, but I still think people are stupid.

B-Caz Princess does . . .

2007-07-24T06:14:00.000-07:00

Well, not much. Although I do now have pictures from the royal journey, I still haven't pieced together all my thoughts about the trip and what it means to me that my mother is part of a much cooler version of the Ya-Ya Sisterhood. With slightly less drinking. And less Petites. In fact, I'm the only one who's of age to actually enjoy the journeys into the past, the present, and wherever else they happen to go.

But things I AM doing include- my dishes, my nails, shaving my legs, giving myself facials (hush, you, you know who you are,) and generally maintaining my B-Caz exterior. Also I'm applying at Knights of Columbus, so I suppose this could now be titled 'B-Caz Princess Does Selling Out.' Although being that I currently work for an international Financial Planning firm AND a corporate accessory store, that wouldn't be anything new. *sigh*

TODAY- Lunch with the Queen, alphabetizing, Doing Retail, going to bed early, getting ready for B-Caz Princess Does Karaoke tomorrow night. Ahh Karaoke, sweetest of the transition metals. :-D

Update:
The internet is making me crazy. No, really, it's true.

Potter

2007-07-21T15:20:00.000-07:00

Just because I have to say it. I finished the last book in five and a half hours flat. Probably even less, because I had to take some time out to eat chicken with the Princess of Ireland. If anyone who reads this wants to know the end and hasn't read it yet, I won't say anything. Except to say, there's an obvious Christian element readily apparent to anyone who's read the books, that becomes even more profound in this one. And one more paralel, might I add, Potter! the musical, would probably have a song very reminiscent of The Secret Garden.

Snape: "He has her eyes!
The boy has Lily's bright green eyes
Those eyes that loved that Potter,
Never me!"

At least, I think they were green. And as for the scanning, I'll leave that one up to the Princess of Slash herself. Margaret, what do you think? Right on both counts? I thought so. (She's also the Princess of Christian Philosophy and a host of other intellectual pursuits that I won't mention because I have to see her in like two weeks and I'd like her head to be the same size as it was when I saw her last.)

B-Caz Princess Does Disbelief

2007-07-17T08:17:00.000-07:00

So I don't know how the subject came up, but this morning while enjoying my caffeinated beverage of choice, I was drawn into a story about an ex-hippie mother who grudgingly bought her daughter Barbie so as not to deny her something and make it into a big production. Shamefully, she would slink into the store, hoping that nobody saw her purchase this shockingly non-PC toy for her daughter. Now, I had Barbie as a child, and, yes, I've ranted about the awful effects on body image for developing young girls, but I don't think it was really the Barbie that made me feel bad about myself as a younger person. Maybe a little bit, but not that much. What bothers me the most about Barbie is Barbie's career choices.

In order to write this little rant, I actually spent about an hour and a half doing research on this, so just take my word for it. (Gotta love Wikipedia.)

When Barbie was first introduced, her profession was mainly fashion model. There was an instance of Barbie learning how to cook, but mostly she just sat around and looked pretty. As she gained in popularity, Mattel released 'Career Girl' Barbie, who was basically just another pretty doll, since her actual 'Career' was never defined. After that, slowly but surely, she moved up to a secretary, then a stewardess (twice) and, of course, a bride (alot.) (Note that I am soley focused on Barbie's career here, not her ballerina, beach bunny, princess persona.)

Into the 70s and the early 80s, Barbie continued her career development, adding healthy pursuits to her blossoming resume. She was an Olympic Medalist (first in the 'girlier' sports, then in skiing and speed skating,) an avid golfer, and a tennis pro. Now Barbie is not only telling young girls they can be secretaries and stewardesses, but that sports are both cool and good for you. Professionally, Barbie has become a nurse, an astronaut, and a teacher.

The 90s marked the golden ages of Barbie's professional life. She became a pilot, a paleontologist, a cooler looking astronaut, a McDonald's cashier, and a variety of other things. There's a list, with actual dates here. You would think, that after all of this, Barbie would have noplace to go but up! She was President in 2000 for Chrissakes!

And with the launch of the new "I Can Be . . ." Career Series, you'd be right. Or would you? Barbie's first profession in the series was a pediatrician (although on the box they called her a Children's Doctor, but whatever.) OK, so far so good. Then she was an art teacher. OK, teacher is good. Then she was a Baby Photographer. Uhh, OK. NOW SHE'S A PET SITTER!!!!!! How do you go from Paleontologist to Pet Sitter?!!!!!

And this year, the Barbie Catologue doesn't even have another option. If you want a 'Professional' Barbie, you're buying a pet sitter Barbie. Her only other occupation in the last 3 years, besides the other I Can Be Barbies was "American Idol Contestant." Oh, and Elmo fan.

It's mah burfday

2007-07-16T08:08:00.000-07:00

Yesh, indeed it is. Yay me! Coincidentally, it's also my Grandfather's burfday, I think I was always his favorite because I was his birthday present. Plus I'm just cool like that.

So to mark the splendid occasion of the royal birth, I did something truly unique and different. We went drinkin'. OK, that's not true, well, it is, but we did other stuff too! Since the boy is wonderful and amazing and a whole host of other adjectives he took me to the beach, one of the best meals I've ever had, and the Harry Potter movie. (Which actually was quite good, I think he was even a little impressed.) So, of course, the important part, the food. Oh my Lord. We had three appetizers, and they were all wonderful, but the best part was something that the boy talked me into. Baby squid in it's own ink.

Looks hella gross, right? It's totally not. So yea, also I got to hang out with a bunch of people I never see anymore on Friday with the Queen at Delaney's, and Sunday I got to work. Umm, in a celabratory fashion? Today I'm having lunch with the Queen, then later dinner with Daddy (he doesn't get a nickname, I don't feel like making one up,) and hopefully post dinner burfday snuggling. (I used the phrase 'hella snuggly' this morning. Yeah, that's right, I totally did.)

More Shoe Drama

2007-07-12T12:24:00.000-07:00

So, I suppose I should now rightly change the name to 'B-Caz Princess Does Temping AND Retail,' since I picked up a part time job to pay for my NEW CAR insurance. But, whatever. Onto the shoe drama!

The Princess was all dolled up in her B-Caz/First Day at New Job wear, and walking in a giddy, caffeinated way the eight blocks or so from Templand to Retail-Hell. And as she walked, she whistled a jaunty tune. (Quick! Name the reference!) Strolling quickly but relaxedly through the streets of her kingdom, basking in the coolness that only comes in the half hour between two jobs. The Princess looked both ways to cross the street, and turned up the last block before reaching her final destination. And she walked, and walked, and jerked forward with a sudden violence that almost knocked her over. And jerked again. And looked down. There, right in the middle of the sidewalk, her heel was stuck in a grate in the sidewalk. "You've got to be kidding me," she muttered to herself, "wasn't this in a 'Sex and the City' episode?"

Now, a quick poll. If the Princess was to move somewhere, where should it be?

1. Boston
2. Portland, ME
3. Never-never Land
4. Ireland
5. Why the Hell would you want to move now, you idiot?

Road Tripping!

2007-07-09T08:49:00.000-07:00

OK, that's a lie. The Queen has lots of pictures that I'd like to put up, but I can't access them at work. And I really did take notes, but I left them at home. So I have nothing really to say for now. Instead, here's a link to things that piss me off. Enjoy!

OK, two things from the trip.

1. Pulling up to a stop sign, in the car with the Mommy Coven.
Blondie: Are we there yet?
*simultaneously*
B-Caz Queen- Not yet, Blondie.
Queen for a Day- Yes.
Island Queen- Yes, get out.

2. On a boat, having a party.
Queen for a Day- So there I was in college, majoring in crytal meth and basket weaving. Sorry, actually it was crystal meth and poetry.

More when I get pictures!

B-Caz Princess Does Road Trip

2007-07-05T19:22:00.000-07:00

So, much much more on this later, but but I have two quick updates for anyone who wants to know how my trip is going.

1. The phrase "Another dog! My favorite thing!" is now permanently etched into my brain as a result of our ill-fated encounter with Lake Placid and the royal beast. Let's just say it invoved a lot of peeing on or attempting to pee on things.

2. There's some weird influx of yarn stores up here. I've never seen a store specifically for yarn, but today I've seen two of them.

More when I get back, or tomorrow, I took notes on the way up. I miss civilization so much! I hope it misses me too!

B-Caz Princess does what?!!

2007-06-29T12:40:00.000-07:00

So, part of the temping life means that you will never get calls at work, unless they are from the agency you work for. That's just the way it is. All temps have cell phones. Knowing this, you can imagine my surprise when, while sitting in an empty office enjoying my lunch, the woman covering my desk poked her head in and informed that I had a call. Even more strange was that it was a call from Yale.

After a bizarre number of attempts to get the call transferred to the desk I was sitting at, I took the call in the lobby. At first I thought it might be for a job, since I had applied to approximately 70,000 of them in the last month, but the person on the other end identified himself as "Bob, from Yale admitting." Now I was worried, could it be that someone was in the hospital? How would they have gotten my work number? The exchange proceeded thus:

Blondie- "This is Blondie."
Bob- "Hi Blondie, I'm calling because we need your address, we only have your work number. Also to remind you about your appointment on the 20th with Dr. Ruthersfeld."
Blondie- "Umm, Dr. who?"
Bob- "Dr. Ruthersfeld, for your surgery."
Blondie- "Umm, surgery?"
Bob- "Yes, it's scheduled for July 20th."
Blondie- "Surgery for WHAT?!"
Bob- "Your hysterectamy."
Blondie- *silence* "My WHAT?!!!!!"
Bob- "Is this Blondie *some last name that isn't mine*
Blondie- "Uhh, no."
Bob- "Sorry, I have the wrong person."
Blondie- *stunned silence*
Bob- *click*

Yeah, so, that was a little bizarre. The woman at the front desk explained, after she finished laughing, that he had asked for "Blondie some-last-name-that-isn't-mine" but she didn't know my last name and since there's only one Blondie here, she just assumed it was me. High-larious.

And Now For Something Completely Different!

2007-06-26T13:23:00.000-07:00

No more babysitting.
That's right, although the B-Caz palace is still inundated with the teenager's belongings, it no longer contains a teenager. This is because (Thank the Lord) the Queen has returned! After her long sojurn to the Southwest, the Queen returned yesterday, bearing gifts of jewels, decorations, and guacamole mix. Thus, life as we know it has once returned to the Princess. Or has it?

Since the scullery maid had the night off last night, B-Caz Princess decided that the best thing to do was return the state of her palace to it's normal B-Caz splendor. This means the royal dishes were washed, the royal plants were watered, and the royal laundry was done. (But not actually folded, because that's the scullery maid's job.) The royal shoes were organized according to exact torturous-ness (on a scale of 1-to-Oh My God I'm Gonna Die.) Dinner was a simple, late meal, infused on many levels with fresh rosemary (steamed, fried, it was a crazy rosemary feast,) and then at last, the boy showed up and sleep was in the cards.

Except it wasn't. And the next sequence of event only go to show that life is, never, ever as simple as you think it's going to be.

At approximately one forty five in the morning, the exceptionally sweaty (there's no air conditioning at the royal palace) Princess was awoken by a loud banging. When the boy sleepily asked "What the fuck was that," she chose to disregard the scary banging in exchange for falling back asleep. However, thirty seconds later, there was another noise, and she sprang into action. By sitting up and watching the boy go to investigate. (She would have gone herself, but had peeled off her PJ pants in the too sticky palace room and didn't want to meet a knife weilding homicidal maniac in just her underpants and a t-shirt.) After frantically pulling her pjs on and slowly padding out into the darkened palace, she came across the boy, standing in the well lit kitchen, staring at-- A plastic jug of olive oil that had inexplicably fallen on the floor. The window frame had expanded/contracted in the heat and fallen closed, knocking the jug over and scaring the beejesus out of both of them. Needless to say, it took a while for sleep to once again overtake them.

So the next morning, not quite refreshed, B-Caz Princess is once again looking forward to her day, her back to normal existance, and, most importantly, her roommate free apartment for the next month and a half. Sipping her perfectly brewed coffee (made up the night before, so all she had to do was turn the- ask the boy to turn the pot on,) she contemplates her day, her lily that has grown two feet tall, the beauty of simply being; sitting on her back porch in the sun. She selects her royal garments, wets her brand new royal haircut, adds the royal hair products, and turns on the royal blow dryer.

Which promptly explodes in her hand, in a fiery, smokey plastic tube of doom.

Yeah, back to normal all right.

UPDATE: It is 4:59, the phone just rang, I almost ate it.