Makin Dat Paper Sure Makes My Blog Hard-On Go Away Fast

So Texas came and went, my daughter's graduation came and went and I'm sitting at my new place, right now, as I type. And yet, no blog after that very convincing spew last post that I would not go too long without posting.

My bad. I allowed my blog to get constipated again, please forgive a liar. This is quick blog poop so I don't get too backed up next time. See? I'm trying! Smelly sticker for that - even if it is a black licorice smelly sticker, I still get one right?

Don't answer that.

Pictures, video of the new I'm Not Samantha Brown Texas edition, my daughter's kindergarten graduation and all that good stuff are just waiting to be edited and posted so bear with me. Work is cockblocking all the fun stuff I'd rather get to. And this weekend was yet even more work as we spent it moving to our new house. :)

I don't know why I always trick myself into thinking I can be that person who packs a month before the move. I really thought in my heart of hearts that I would do this. You see, in my head, I'm the kind of girl who is very organized and efficient. The kind of girl who separates her outfits by color and by style. The kind of girl whose shoes are in their orginal box, put in a row with the polaroid picture of said shoe on the front. THAT type of girl. When in reality, I'm the kind of girl who seperates her outfits by pajamas and NOT pajamas, and has two pairs of shoes, flip flops and NOT flip flops. And yet, I strive to be that girl in my head and I fail miserably each and every time.

I DID not pack a month before the move obviously. In fact, I didn't even pack the week before the move. I packed when it was TIME to move. It was hell obviously, but the deed is done (except for a few odds and ends at the old place that we have to sell.) and to reward ourselves we took a dip in our new pool....

This is our hilltop view from the backyard/pool.

This be where we gets our tan on.

It's nice being in a bigger place, but I would be lying if I said that the move was a little bittersweet for me. Considering that we moved into that condo four years ago with big dreams of possibly BUYING a house around this time. I would be lying if I didn't say I felt little bit like a failure after walking out of our condo for the last time yesterday. I KNOW there was no way we could have known that the market would have taken a dump as much as it has, it was completely out of our hands and yet still...it's weird when life steers you in a whole other direction. My tendency is to definitely go with the flow and not waste my energy fighting the current, but it does take time to readjust when your original plans get temporarily derailed.

Speaking of readjusting - I could not sleep at all last night because IT WAS TOO QUIET. Yes. I'm that big of a city girl that apparently I need a ghetto bird to lull me to sleep. Yesterday I heard....crickets and nothing else! No cars, no ghetto bird, no cats yelping from sexual ecstasy, no kids that should be in bed but their parents suck so they're outside playing and making friends with the pothead next door. NONE of this was heard last night. It was just...nothing...and so I heard EVERYTHING.

The creak of the door....'who the fu...?!' *grabs nightlight and starts scanning the room*
A car's engine started veeerrrry far away ...' omg someone's in our driveway!' *get up and peek out the window holding a rolling pin.* (I know so cliche', grabbing the rolling pin, and stupid since Brad's very sharp filet knife was right next to the rolling pin)

So it went like that all night last night. This is whole 'quiet at night' - 'no neighbors within a sneeze's distance' - is weird. I know it's suppose to be nice but it just feels like I'm a kid that's lost their old blankie. Sure it's stinks, it's frayed at the edges, it's been drooled on, dragged in the dirt and so worn out you can see through it - and yet still, it was comforting to me. All those annoying little noises.

All this quiet is making my very active imagination run wild - it'll take some getting used to.

Okay I have to end this on a anticlimactic note as work awaits! I told you! Work be cockblocking like a jealous college girl who can't get a dude anymore because her reputation for spreading easier than margarine and leaving behind a trail of fire urine precedes her...

Dude. I don't know what I'm talking about. Why are you still here?! I have to work!!! Stop distracting me!

Fast and Unsatisfying. Don't worry, its not about Ryan Seacrest.

A quick update post and I swear after this, I'll stop yammering on about "real life" and get into much more interesting topics like how does belly button lint end up smelling like cheese?
Go ahead, dig in and take a sniff. I'll wait.

See? wierd huh? Now promise me you'll take a shower and wash the rest of that out after reading this.

Okay, moving along.....

I went in for my meeting with the modeling agency, apparently to hash out my pay and what my duties would be as an assistant. However, they had other news for me. They said they looked at my resume and saw that I was a little bit overqualified to be an assistant. My heart sank. I thought, "oh nooo you didn't have me drive all the way down here just to turn me down for the job!"

But no. They didn't turn me down for the job. In fact, they offered me another job that suits my experience.

I'm officially a TALENT AGENT for their commercial/T.V. division for teens and adults.

Um. Can I get a wha?! wha?!

Needless to say I'm excited! My training starts next Wednesday and I'm officially official in January. I'm going to miss working from home but I always said that if I was going to take a job outside of the home, it would be for something I WANT to do. And since I've been wanting to be an agent since graduating college, this definitely fits my criteria! The only downfall is that the munchkin might have to stay an hour longer in preschool unless Viking Hubby gets out early from work. I know it's not much, and yes she loves school, and yes I know she'll officially be in kindergarten/school full time in a year anyway, but I feel guilty regardless.
I'm a parent, a side order of guilt comes with the parenting meal dontcha know?

So yeah, its been a crazy week. I tried to video a happy dance for you all but my web cam sucks. It couldn't handle my righteous moves.
It was all blurry and it ended up looking like a short person dancing with no rhythm.

wait....

anyways, Speaking of crazy.....

Crazy is a bitch named Tyra. She kicked out my girl Heather this week:



and opted for this snaggle tooth skag:



Yes, I know. Heather winning was a long shot but that fact that she didn't even make it to the Final 3 is inexcusable. She's given other girls second, double, triple chances during past seasons (Remember the Jaeda the tranny and Eugena wonky eye?? Please. I rest my case.) So how Heather didn't make it over Jenah is beyond me. Tyra must have ate the only functioning part of her brain during a late night binge. I can now safely say that this season's ANTM is officially dead to me. Tyra can take her vagina puppet, shove it up her ass and eat it.
I'm through. (well...until next season that is..)

Okay that's it for now. Come next week when this blog isn't so boring. Have a great weekend everybody!!!!

She Works Hard For The Money!

Well not really...I try to work as little as possible for the money without doing anything illegal, but that doesn't make for a very good song.
What I'm trying to say is the job search is over! And my office attire can be pajamas or my birthday suit because I scored yet another job I can do from home. I won't say exactly what it is because I've gotten into trouble mentioning job related stuff on my blog before so I don't want to go on that route again....but it is a typing job (mindless), I can pretty much set my own schedule each week, the pay is awesome, I can keep my current job but most importantly I can drop off and pick up my girl from school.

So hollah!!

Ok, stop. You're loud.
God, I can't take you guys anywhere.

Onto other things.....

This weekend, I wanted to take a moment to reflect on life, the fate of the universe, global warming and how tonight, I was going to celebrate my love for you. But sadly, the moment was lost when a big giant droplet of sweat fell into my eye.

It's hot and summer needs to go away now.

I did not get out of the hotbox of east county El Cajon, move into a condo by the coast and pay a mortgage I can't afford only to be hotboxed again goddamn it!

And yet, here I sit, crotch a sweatin'.

The kicker is that my condos do not have air conditioning because they figure, hey bitch, you live by the coast, you get the beach breezy!! And while that's true 90 percent of the time, 10 percent of the time (usually end of August), there is NO beach breezy and our upstairs feels like the underneathy parts of John Goodman's nutsacks. I know, I know, it could be worse. I could be my friend Debi who has been melting under the Arizona 100 plus degree sun since early June. But right now, its really hard to feel grateful for the "wonderful" California weather when mine shorts are damp, for my asscrack sweateth so profuseth.

We actually went to the beach on Labor Day weekend, crowd be damned. And really, unless you were face down on the beach, it was still hot as shit. On Monday, viking hubby bought a nice sized pool for the munchkin. Well, it was SUPPOSE to be for the munchkin, but by the time ol' girl got into her bathing suit, her mom and dad were already in there doing backstrokes.

I can't tell you how much I wanna dry hump an ice block right now.


No, no, no, Mr. Van Winckle...you heard me wrong. I said nothing of humping the vanilla kind.
But you keep wearing outfits like that mister and I might change my mind.

Work Schmurk! Get me another Mai Tai!

I've decided to dip my toe back into the warm stagnant pool of the workforce. Granted, I haven't been completely out of the work force, but I work at home and lately, with so little hours clocked in, I get slightly embarrassed when I tell people I "work."
I love my job and the pay is great; however, that all amounts to not a damn thing when you're clocking in 15 hours a week. I am grateful for landing this job because it allowed me to stay at home with the munchkin, which was the whole reason I took my ass out of the work force in the first place.

But now the munchkin tires of me and longs to play with other children that don't annoy her like the big one at home she calls "mom." We found a school nearby that had a large facility and a small amount of students. The teachers seemed to know their stuff and were on the older side (ie: no college students working part time w/ Monday morning hangovers. Oooh listen to me! I'm OLD!) they actually had a nice curriculum (is molding blue Play-Doh into the Statue of David too much? I didn't think so either.) and best of all the monthly payments were decent, as in I didn't have to go and get a job as the cow that hooks the corner for Chick-Fil-A.

So with her off to preschool, I decided it would benefit our financial situation greatly if I got another job. At first, I decided to make dust off my degree in FASHAWN (fashion) and applied to several modeling agencies, I got a call from two and the haughty tone in their voice (ummm, you're a receptionist. Relax Rockefeller.) reminded me of why I had decided not to go down that path after college. (the business of beauty is really quite ugly.)

I put my degree back into its cave, for yet another couple years of hibernation and decided to look for a job that I can do in my sleep with no stress. I figured this was just for extra cash, no need to have an ulcer over it.

I came up with two things I can do in my sleep, which might be beneficial to the workforce.
One of which is typing.
Yeah. I know. Big whoop. But I actually like to type (oh the sweet sound of the keyboard's clickity clack. Heaven I tell ya) so it wouldn't be like working at all and at 90 words per minute, I'm sure there's a company out there that can make use of my cracked out typing skillz.
So whooosh!...I sent off my resume to as many repetitive data entry positions I could possibly find.

The second thing I love to do even more than typing and I can do until the end of time is talking. I'm what I like to call a "talking technician," ..a yammering yoda you might say. I think a tour guide would be the easiest job in the world for me. My dream job has always been to steal this job from this lucky bitch. She must die retire so the era of the traveling midget can begin and be watched by millions on the Travel Channel.

But that's a long term goal, back to my short, misguided ones...

I took a chance and typed in "tour guide" and found two that I applied for. The one I'm hoping that I'll get is to be a tour guide on one of those double decker buses. It drives around the San Diego sights, I get to babble to my hearts content for the poor saps that are stuck with me for the ride. Another one was to be a personal tour guide for San Diego for wealthy investors and their families. It supplies you with a company vehicle, pretty damn good hourly rate and of course the tips were supposedly amazing. It sounds to good to be true but I shot off my resume anyways trying to ignore the voice in my head that screamed out,

"Are you NUTS?!?! You're ASIAN..you can't DRIVE AND TALK at the same time!!!"

I ignored it.
Much like I ignore my left blinker for at least a mile and half before I realize I still have it on and all the cars around me give me the finger. I do the "I'm Asian" shrug and wave at them.

But that's another post for another time.

Now gimme your good luck vibes and then get off my lawn.