Friday, June 24, 2011
Off and On: So Tired...
Off and On: So Tired...: "It's been a helluva week. The new job is off to a good start. It's stressful, but learning anything new is and I've been through worse. I..."
So Tired...
It's been a helluva week. The new job is off to a good start. It's stressful, but learning anything new is and I've been through worse. I like the people, the work isn't so bad, and the benefits are good. I have offered a long shot of Evan Williams to St. Anthony, patron saint of lost things, in both thanks for finding me a good job and a request for peace within myself and my household. Seems to be working so far! Sorry about the crabby mood earlier in the week, I try not to let the stress get to me but sometimes it wins. It's all good now.
Tuesday, June 21, 2011
Off and On: Yes to Success and No for an Answer
Off and On: Yes to Success and No for an Answer: "This week began my freedom from the hotel pit that's kept me (barely) afloat and working a new job! Yes, you are now looking at the latest ..."
Yes to Success and No for an Answer
This week began my freedom from the hotel pit that's kept me (barely) afloat and working a new job! Yes, you are now looking at the latest and greatest CSR and Billing rep that the freight industry has ever seen. Yesterday was orientation and a buttload of training videos, today was learning the job. I could do this in my sleep. It's AS400 based, which I've used for the better part of a decade and involves all of three screens. Whee. They were right, I'm probably going to be bored. You know what? It's ok. I get 40 hours a week, an actual LIVING WAGE, health insurance in 90 days, a noon to 8pm schedule M-F and every weekend off. Did I mention that we get off all holidays too? I'll have to work Mardi Gras, but who cares? There's six weeks of parades to see before then!
As a result of this wonderful new schedule, I have the ability to do my weekly laundry run at Checkpoint Charlie's, relax, and hear some free music without being exhausted before going to work the next day. Well, that was the plan anyway.
I was starving because the last thing I'd eaten was a chicken pita sandwich at around 4pm and it was 10:00 before I got into the French Quarter and grabbed a bite to go at Verti Marte. It was an additional twenty minutes to find parking in the Marigny because today was apparently the party of the century between Frenchman and Esplanade. I ended up hauling my twenty pounds of laundry three blocks before finally nudging open the grimy swinging doors at Checkpoint. I took a break during the lugging to talk to my mother who was bewildered at the fact that I was "schlepping my laundry all over town at night". I explained there was free music, food, and a bar and she still didn't get it. What's not to like about free entertainment? "You live a strange life out there." Hmph. Philistines....
The opening act was a duo playing a sort of New York jazz style. Girl with a wispy voice on the piano, guy playing oboe to accompany. The sort of music you'd imagine a lot of people wearing all black designer clothes listening to with apertifs slung casually around. Her voice was a little too thin to do the cover of "Crazy" as made famous by Patsy Cline justice, but I think Willie Nelson would have liked the style they lent his song. Betcha didn't know he wrote it, did ya? Your trivia for the week brought to you by the letter A: for Annoyed.
Annoyed is exactly what I became after moving to the back to separate my clothes. Gone were the potheads from last time, but replacing them was a hispanic male who also brought his laundry in...and immediately started trying to make the moves on me. I've been under a lot of stress lately and I was already feeling twitchy. If I haven't eaten, my blood sugar drops and it makes me even more nervous and jumpy. So while I did my best to try and make polite conversation while dropping broad but unsuccessful hints that I didn't want any company, I got even more edgy. I don't care how many trips to Iran you take every year, you're still a Mexican roofer and you irritate me.
Here's the thing. No matter what my weight has been, whether 125 lbs or the current unmentionable number, Mexicans in particular have always had a serious thing for me. I find this particular hispanic branch-off to be especially loathsome. While men as a rule are prone to thoughtlessness in pursuit of happy pants times, Mexicans take it to a whole new level. The culture teaches that women are nothing more than baby makers and caretakers and that the men can do no wrong. I find it incredibly insulting to be even addressed by people of this mindset, and this was one of those guys. I can't tell you how many times I've been openly and continually stared at as if I were a side of beef even after pointed glares and comments. I am not that kind of Heifer.
By the way, just so you don't think I'm being biased in favor of those with a more pasty shade of skin, I refuse to date Irishmen as well. I was married to one and had a short term relationship with another who looked (and drank) like he came straight off the docks. In both cases, the boasting tales of the grand shilleleagh were pitifully just that. I think I'm going to stick with mutts of German or Polish descent. At least that way we can braid each other's chest hair.
As a result of this wonderful new schedule, I have the ability to do my weekly laundry run at Checkpoint Charlie's, relax, and hear some free music without being exhausted before going to work the next day. Well, that was the plan anyway.
I was starving because the last thing I'd eaten was a chicken pita sandwich at around 4pm and it was 10:00 before I got into the French Quarter and grabbed a bite to go at Verti Marte. It was an additional twenty minutes to find parking in the Marigny because today was apparently the party of the century between Frenchman and Esplanade. I ended up hauling my twenty pounds of laundry three blocks before finally nudging open the grimy swinging doors at Checkpoint. I took a break during the lugging to talk to my mother who was bewildered at the fact that I was "schlepping my laundry all over town at night". I explained there was free music, food, and a bar and she still didn't get it. What's not to like about free entertainment? "You live a strange life out there." Hmph. Philistines....
The opening act was a duo playing a sort of New York jazz style. Girl with a wispy voice on the piano, guy playing oboe to accompany. The sort of music you'd imagine a lot of people wearing all black designer clothes listening to with apertifs slung casually around. Her voice was a little too thin to do the cover of "Crazy" as made famous by Patsy Cline justice, but I think Willie Nelson would have liked the style they lent his song. Betcha didn't know he wrote it, did ya? Your trivia for the week brought to you by the letter A: for Annoyed.
Annoyed is exactly what I became after moving to the back to separate my clothes. Gone were the potheads from last time, but replacing them was a hispanic male who also brought his laundry in...and immediately started trying to make the moves on me. I've been under a lot of stress lately and I was already feeling twitchy. If I haven't eaten, my blood sugar drops and it makes me even more nervous and jumpy. So while I did my best to try and make polite conversation while dropping broad but unsuccessful hints that I didn't want any company, I got even more edgy. I don't care how many trips to Iran you take every year, you're still a Mexican roofer and you irritate me.
Here's the thing. No matter what my weight has been, whether 125 lbs or the current unmentionable number, Mexicans in particular have always had a serious thing for me. I find this particular hispanic branch-off to be especially loathsome. While men as a rule are prone to thoughtlessness in pursuit of happy pants times, Mexicans take it to a whole new level. The culture teaches that women are nothing more than baby makers and caretakers and that the men can do no wrong. I find it incredibly insulting to be even addressed by people of this mindset, and this was one of those guys. I can't tell you how many times I've been openly and continually stared at as if I were a side of beef even after pointed glares and comments. I am not that kind of Heifer.
By the way, just so you don't think I'm being biased in favor of those with a more pasty shade of skin, I refuse to date Irishmen as well. I was married to one and had a short term relationship with another who looked (and drank) like he came straight off the docks. In both cases, the boasting tales of the grand shilleleagh were pitifully just that. I think I'm going to stick with mutts of German or Polish descent. At least that way we can braid each other's chest hair.
Saturday, June 18, 2011
Itchy!
I went into the back yard to water my poor abused tomato plants and yank some more okra when apparently I ran into something my skin doesn't like. Possibly poison ivy, but who knows? It was dark back there and it wasn't a slug. If I wasn't before, I am now singing the praises of castille soap for getting promptly rid of any extra oils that stuck around. And thank goodness somebody had the foresight to purchase generic antihistamines. Takes a little longer than calamine, but worth the wait. Sigh....
Only one more full day left to go at the hotel! Sunday I'm leaving early due to having to be at the new job at 8am Monday morning, which means it'll go by like molasses in winter. I'm ready to work where lunch breaks exist and pay is reasonable for the work done. Crap, I need to buy khaki pants. I hate khaki. It makes my whole waist look unappealing and I'm a terrible mess in it. Khaki: Almost as bad as wearing white, but with more old butt! Ick.
Only one more full day left to go at the hotel! Sunday I'm leaving early due to having to be at the new job at 8am Monday morning, which means it'll go by like molasses in winter. I'm ready to work where lunch breaks exist and pay is reasonable for the work done. Crap, I need to buy khaki pants. I hate khaki. It makes my whole waist look unappealing and I'm a terrible mess in it. Khaki: Almost as bad as wearing white, but with more old butt! Ick.
Thursday, June 16, 2011
Off and On: Support Your Local Weirdo
Off and On: Support Your Local Weirdo: "Ok guys, there have been a few changes to le blog. First, I got rid of all the crappy advertisements because they earned me all of $0.09 an..."
Support Your Local Weirdo
Ok guys, there have been a few changes to le blog. First, I got rid of all the crappy advertisements because they earned me all of $0.09 and were really annoying. Yay for that! In return, however...muahahaha....
Ahem. In exchange, I have posted the AMAZING MONEY MAKING WIDGET located just to the right of my blog. There are a range of amounts you can donate from dirt cheap to "whoa, baby!". Don't worry, I'll love you either way but the fancy dinner at Sizzler will get ya more than the dollar menu at Taco Bell. I'm taking a note from PBS and will be doing pledge drives pretty soon because goddammit I'm broke. Cool prizes will be given depending on donation as well as all this lovely free content to bring excitement to your lives.
Most importantly, thanks for following and spreading the word so I can continue to bring you more adventures! See you next time!
Ahem. In exchange, I have posted the AMAZING MONEY MAKING WIDGET located just to the right of my blog. There are a range of amounts you can donate from dirt cheap to "whoa, baby!". Don't worry, I'll love you either way but the fancy dinner at Sizzler will get ya more than the dollar menu at Taco Bell. I'm taking a note from PBS and will be doing pledge drives pretty soon because goddammit I'm broke. Cool prizes will be given depending on donation as well as all this lovely free content to bring excitement to your lives.
Most importantly, thanks for following and spreading the word so I can continue to bring you more adventures! See you next time!
Wednesday, June 15, 2011
Off and On: A Taste of a New Story I'm Working On
Off and On: A Taste of a New Story I'm Working On: "I watched with mild interest as the paunchy man in his fifties sprayed bleach water on the stainless steel countertop in my kitchen. He wor..."
A Taste of a New Story I'm Working On
I watched with mild interest as the paunchy man in his fifties sprayed bleach water on the stainless steel countertop in my kitchen. He wore the uniform of the mundane, a polo shirt liberally peppered in grease stains and flour from chicken that he'd fried for my picnic on the lawn. The black workman's slacks he wore hung beneath his ample gut, barely held up by the cheap big box store belt made from all-synthetic materials. Sweat beaded on his pasty white forehead, the hair from his widow's peak dangling like a worm in front of a creature who, anywhere else in the pond, would have been a very big fish.
"La Danian," I said. "I hope you're not getting tired, there's still the refrigerator to clean and the floors to mop and wax before you can leave." The older man cringed from a mixture of irritants. Annoyance at his "slave" name that was nowhere near indicative of his tenth generation East Coast upbringing, frustration with a worthless body made soft by years of desk work, and general disgust with the manual labor I was putting him through. But primarily, it was the absolutely horribly real fear of failing me. If he failed me, he failed for life.
"I'm going to be kind to you tonight and let you have a ten minute breather before you get to work on the floors. You did a good job on getting all the picnic items prepared today, but you need to move faster next time. I don't do overtime and you either get it all done or you go on report. Since this is your first week I'm going easy on you."
"Thank you, Mistress Red," he gasped. I nonchalantly handed him a bottled water from the refrigerator and closed it again, watching as he gulped the chilled water down too quickly and promptly gave himself brain freeze. I rolled my eyes at how pathetic he was. No more so than many of the others, but that would change. A few minutes ticked by and I watched as the sweat rings that mooned his armpits began to evaporate. Normally my mind was constantly working even in downtime, deciphering based on his profile and instinct the best way to express my dismay at his current worthlessness, but I was just too tired.
I leaned down to speak to him, the man still panting from filthy physical labor and exhausted from general emotional stress. "I've changed my mind La Danian, you are being released early tonight. If you wish to make up for the time, you may contact me tomorrow afternoon and I will schedule you in next week."
The man's face contorted in porcine fear. "Thank you Mistress Red. Mistress, may I ask a question?"
"You may," I replied.
"Was it something I did? Or didn't do that I'm being asked to leave early? If there is, I'd like to be able to fix it."
"No, La Danian, it wasn't. I'm just tired tonight. And I compliment you on having the bravery to ask if you have displeased the one you answer to. Taking responsibility for your actions is a step most don't fully comprehend until the very end. Some never do. I will remember this." I smiled at him as he looked up at me from his knees, grateful as a puppy.
"Thank you Mistress Red. I will leave now with your permission." I nodded my assent and he bowed his head in reverence to me before groaning to his feet. He rolled down the hallway and out the side door reserved for the Service Industry.
I sighed and grabbed a clean towel and the bleach water again. In leaving he'd slung sweat over the newly shining countertop. I reminded myself how this was just one minor irritant and that I loved my job more than anything. One of the good bits about it popped into my head, and I felt myself automatically grinning from ear to ear. "Thank you Congressman, it is for this I serve my country."
Five years ago I was approached with a plea from someone who knew how close our nation's representatives were to a massive bloody revolt enacted by the populace. Bread and circuses no longer distracted the crowds of suffering, unemployed masses while the public's "representatives" dined on steak and strippers. To avoid collapse, change must occur and it must come from within. The masters at the top knew nothing of the servant's lot and were unlikely to change on their own. The theory being, in order to represent the people, they must understand them and to do that they must live like them.
For too long those in power beheld those they governed as nothing more than a means to an end. It became my job to teach them in a manner that would create humility, modesty, and appreciation for a solid work ethic that was more than just patter. What better way to do that than use their own carnival of perversions against them?
Welcome to the retraining of the nation's capital; my name is Red and I am The Mistress. I love my job.
"La Danian," I said. "I hope you're not getting tired, there's still the refrigerator to clean and the floors to mop and wax before you can leave." The older man cringed from a mixture of irritants. Annoyance at his "slave" name that was nowhere near indicative of his tenth generation East Coast upbringing, frustration with a worthless body made soft by years of desk work, and general disgust with the manual labor I was putting him through. But primarily, it was the absolutely horribly real fear of failing me. If he failed me, he failed for life.
"I'm going to be kind to you tonight and let you have a ten minute breather before you get to work on the floors. You did a good job on getting all the picnic items prepared today, but you need to move faster next time. I don't do overtime and you either get it all done or you go on report. Since this is your first week I'm going easy on you."
"Thank you, Mistress Red," he gasped. I nonchalantly handed him a bottled water from the refrigerator and closed it again, watching as he gulped the chilled water down too quickly and promptly gave himself brain freeze. I rolled my eyes at how pathetic he was. No more so than many of the others, but that would change. A few minutes ticked by and I watched as the sweat rings that mooned his armpits began to evaporate. Normally my mind was constantly working even in downtime, deciphering based on his profile and instinct the best way to express my dismay at his current worthlessness, but I was just too tired.
I leaned down to speak to him, the man still panting from filthy physical labor and exhausted from general emotional stress. "I've changed my mind La Danian, you are being released early tonight. If you wish to make up for the time, you may contact me tomorrow afternoon and I will schedule you in next week."
The man's face contorted in porcine fear. "Thank you Mistress Red. Mistress, may I ask a question?"
"You may," I replied.
"Was it something I did? Or didn't do that I'm being asked to leave early? If there is, I'd like to be able to fix it."
"No, La Danian, it wasn't. I'm just tired tonight. And I compliment you on having the bravery to ask if you have displeased the one you answer to. Taking responsibility for your actions is a step most don't fully comprehend until the very end. Some never do. I will remember this." I smiled at him as he looked up at me from his knees, grateful as a puppy.
"Thank you Mistress Red. I will leave now with your permission." I nodded my assent and he bowed his head in reverence to me before groaning to his feet. He rolled down the hallway and out the side door reserved for the Service Industry.
I sighed and grabbed a clean towel and the bleach water again. In leaving he'd slung sweat over the newly shining countertop. I reminded myself how this was just one minor irritant and that I loved my job more than anything. One of the good bits about it popped into my head, and I felt myself automatically grinning from ear to ear. "Thank you Congressman, it is for this I serve my country."
Five years ago I was approached with a plea from someone who knew how close our nation's representatives were to a massive bloody revolt enacted by the populace. Bread and circuses no longer distracted the crowds of suffering, unemployed masses while the public's "representatives" dined on steak and strippers. To avoid collapse, change must occur and it must come from within. The masters at the top knew nothing of the servant's lot and were unlikely to change on their own. The theory being, in order to represent the people, they must understand them and to do that they must live like them.
For too long those in power beheld those they governed as nothing more than a means to an end. It became my job to teach them in a manner that would create humility, modesty, and appreciation for a solid work ethic that was more than just patter. What better way to do that than use their own carnival of perversions against them?
Welcome to the retraining of the nation's capital; my name is Red and I am The Mistress. I love my job.
Saturday, June 11, 2011
Off and On: Flights of Bohemian Fancy
Off and On: Flights of Bohemian Fancy: "What a lovely day today was! I got to catch up on sleep, had a Saturday off of work, went to Vieux to Do, and felt useful by getting the ra..."
Flights of Bohemian Fancy
What a lovely day today was! I got to catch up on sleep, had a Saturday off of work, went to Vieux to Do, and felt useful by getting the rank dishes in the sink cleaned.
The early part of the week wasn't so nice. In addition to crazy hormones, I developed a migraine (the only time I get them is during Shark Week) and called in sick to the hotel. While I pitied the lone front desk agent, I would have been worthless.
A general sense of malaise settled over the house and its varying piles of socks, shoes, and floating dust bunnies. Somewhere in the middle of it all, a lump of laundry stirred; not from developing an innate intelligence as one might think, but from birthing a swollen, crabby adult female. Said female was as likely to retreat back into the warm tangle as squint at you, but managed to refrain from doing so.
And yet, this battle against household drudgery and mother nature too was won. I dragged myself from the miasma of clothing, put on makeup, and presented myself admirably to a prospective employer for an interview. I won the job, and have finally caught up on sleep today as well as had a great time in the French Quarter. There was a cooking demo by the Louisiana Seafood commission in air conditioned splendor, multiple Zydeco bands, and more local produce sellers hawking Creole tomatoes than you could shake a deciduous forest at.
Now, I intend to curl up on the couch with a cheap and heavily doctored cardboard box pizza, anime, and perhaps an adult beverage. It's been a good day.
The early part of the week wasn't so nice. In addition to crazy hormones, I developed a migraine (the only time I get them is during Shark Week) and called in sick to the hotel. While I pitied the lone front desk agent, I would have been worthless.
A general sense of malaise settled over the house and its varying piles of socks, shoes, and floating dust bunnies. Somewhere in the middle of it all, a lump of laundry stirred; not from developing an innate intelligence as one might think, but from birthing a swollen, crabby adult female. Said female was as likely to retreat back into the warm tangle as squint at you, but managed to refrain from doing so.
And yet, this battle against household drudgery and mother nature too was won. I dragged myself from the miasma of clothing, put on makeup, and presented myself admirably to a prospective employer for an interview. I won the job, and have finally caught up on sleep today as well as had a great time in the French Quarter. There was a cooking demo by the Louisiana Seafood commission in air conditioned splendor, multiple Zydeco bands, and more local produce sellers hawking Creole tomatoes than you could shake a deciduous forest at.
Now, I intend to curl up on the couch with a cheap and heavily doctored cardboard box pizza, anime, and perhaps an adult beverage. It's been a good day.
Wednesday, June 8, 2011
Off and On: Called in Today
Off and On: Called in Today: "Wasn't intending to, but my body convinced me. I went to bed early last night but awoke feeling completely unrested. Got up, took a shower..."
Called in Today
Wasn't intending to, but my body convinced me. I went to bed early last night but awoke feeling completely unrested. Got up, took a shower, got pretty for my interview (which went very well) and realized I needed to sleep more when I was trying to fall asleep during the process. I'm really hoping I get this job because it offers full benefits in 90 days and an actual LIVING WAGE. Holy hell! It's only about 2 minutes farther than where I'm driving now, so that's not bad. I think the guy doing the hiring tries to scare off the wusses in the first five minutes so he doesn't have his time wasted. Not a bad way of working things, but it's a little intimidating from the opposite side of the desk.
So! Today's adventure was falling asleep in the chair once I got home and AFTER my nap! I think my poor body would've killed me had I gone in today. The boss man wasn't really pleased when I called in, but considering how little consideration they've given me for basic requests such as a month's notice to have two particular days scheduled as my off days, I don't give a crap. It's not like I'm getting any more poverty stricken anyway; I'm in the same spot as if I had worked. Come to think of it, I might have fewer taxes removed. Eight hours on my feet all day, no lunch, no breaks and smiling at everyone that comes up. They can bite me.
All right, all right, I can hear my mother nagging in my ear from 800 miles away about how I should be thankful that I have a job. I am thankful, believe me. That, however, doesn't take away my right to bitch about things that are genuinely wrong. No, it won't fix anything, but it makes me feel better to get it off my chest so please shut your yap Mom. I'm sorry, I shouldn't have snapped at you. Yes, I know it makes you angry and you were just trying to help. You're absolutely right, I should think on the positive side of things because there is nothing in the world but daisies and sunshine. Yes, I'm being sarcastic, I'm a satarist and it is a tool of my trade. No, I'm not using that as an excuse to be rude. Mother, go take a pill. Please.
So! Today's adventure was falling asleep in the chair once I got home and AFTER my nap! I think my poor body would've killed me had I gone in today. The boss man wasn't really pleased when I called in, but considering how little consideration they've given me for basic requests such as a month's notice to have two particular days scheduled as my off days, I don't give a crap. It's not like I'm getting any more poverty stricken anyway; I'm in the same spot as if I had worked. Come to think of it, I might have fewer taxes removed. Eight hours on my feet all day, no lunch, no breaks and smiling at everyone that comes up. They can bite me.
All right, all right, I can hear my mother nagging in my ear from 800 miles away about how I should be thankful that I have a job. I am thankful, believe me. That, however, doesn't take away my right to bitch about things that are genuinely wrong. No, it won't fix anything, but it makes me feel better to get it off my chest so please shut your yap Mom. I'm sorry, I shouldn't have snapped at you. Yes, I know it makes you angry and you were just trying to help. You're absolutely right, I should think on the positive side of things because there is nothing in the world but daisies and sunshine. Yes, I'm being sarcastic, I'm a satarist and it is a tool of my trade. No, I'm not using that as an excuse to be rude. Mother, go take a pill. Please.
Monday, June 6, 2011
Off and On: Deeds of Dapper Derring-do
Off and On: Deeds of Dapper Derring-do: "I haven't committed enough of these lately. I would like to be able to get my groove going, dress up in all my finery, and take on the town..."
Sunday, June 5, 2011
Deeds of Dapper Derring-do
I haven't committed enough of these lately. I would like to be able to get my groove going, dress up in all my finery, and take on the town. There are, however, two problems with this.
1. I'm out of finery.
2. I'm dead broke.
Which means that I have two options available to me. Wear what I have and do it anyway, or become rich and purchase a whole new wardrobe. Come to think of it, I could do both. It'll take awhile for my new clothes to be properly tailored anyway. These Parisian fashion designers just take for-EVER.
In any event, having no money sucks. Working at the hotel as a front desk drudge will never make anybody rich (hell, it won't even pay the bills NOW) so it is up to me to find a way to make some money. The best way to do that is to put the intention out in the universe that I need a way to make enough to support myself, put some aside in savings, and maybe have a little extra for a vacation now and then. If I just happen to end up doing something that makes me happy and gives me more money than I need, well that's just a bonus and I will gladly donate to charity an extra million or two. So now all I have to do is put the idea out there and the tools and environment to succeed in this will come to me eventually. Because really, if I don't say anything about it how is the great cosmos going to know? Ok, ready? Here we go.
Me: "Universe?" *ahem* "I would like to make lots of money under the above stipulations. Any help triggering these events would be appreciated. Thank you."
(Cricket who has been stalking me for the last four days throws itself up against the bookshelf in a blindingly stupid attempt to escape.)
All right things are in motion, I feel better now. I shall continue to work on the book I am writing and hopefully by the time I am done with it, some lovely publisher will already have read my most excellent blog and offer me a contract for rights to it. It's a really good book. Really.
In other news, I will be having assistance in keeping the roof over my head soon due to having two new roommates move in within the month. I'm looking forward to having peeps in the house again on a full time basis as well as assistance with rent and such. Aside from most awesome roommates, the latest addition to the cotillion is the adoption of a local pirate wench (brought as a housewarming gift). Morghan has been keeping me entertained and serves an excellent rum punch.
More to come as events develop, I shall endeavor to update the blog more often. Hurricane season is here and I have yet to supply myself with suitable emergency tools and rations. Next on the list: Zombie Apocalypse supplies.
1. I'm out of finery.
2. I'm dead broke.
Which means that I have two options available to me. Wear what I have and do it anyway, or become rich and purchase a whole new wardrobe. Come to think of it, I could do both. It'll take awhile for my new clothes to be properly tailored anyway. These Parisian fashion designers just take for-EVER.
In any event, having no money sucks. Working at the hotel as a front desk drudge will never make anybody rich (hell, it won't even pay the bills NOW) so it is up to me to find a way to make some money. The best way to do that is to put the intention out in the universe that I need a way to make enough to support myself, put some aside in savings, and maybe have a little extra for a vacation now and then. If I just happen to end up doing something that makes me happy and gives me more money than I need, well that's just a bonus and I will gladly donate to charity an extra million or two. So now all I have to do is put the idea out there and the tools and environment to succeed in this will come to me eventually. Because really, if I don't say anything about it how is the great cosmos going to know? Ok, ready? Here we go.
Me: "Universe?" *ahem* "I would like to make lots of money under the above stipulations. Any help triggering these events would be appreciated. Thank you."
(Cricket who has been stalking me for the last four days throws itself up against the bookshelf in a blindingly stupid attempt to escape.)
All right things are in motion, I feel better now. I shall continue to work on the book I am writing and hopefully by the time I am done with it, some lovely publisher will already have read my most excellent blog and offer me a contract for rights to it. It's a really good book. Really.
In other news, I will be having assistance in keeping the roof over my head soon due to having two new roommates move in within the month. I'm looking forward to having peeps in the house again on a full time basis as well as assistance with rent and such. Aside from most awesome roommates, the latest addition to the cotillion is the adoption of a local pirate wench (brought as a housewarming gift). Morghan has been keeping me entertained and serves an excellent rum punch.
More to come as events develop, I shall endeavor to update the blog more often. Hurricane season is here and I have yet to supply myself with suitable emergency tools and rations. Next on the list: Zombie Apocalypse supplies.
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