first weak, I mean, week.

You know what disease is right? Dis-ease.  Like when your life is so shitty you make yourself sick so you don't have to face it. Well, I stressed myself out so badly about this stupid job that I actually made myself sick.  So what was supposed to be my first day in-store with all the other trainees, I called out sick and was feeling just awful. Like actually sick with green boogies and everything.

(hope this isn't copyright infringement)

I laid around all day sleeping and watching TV, and by the evening I was feeling a bit better.  I should have tried to spend some time with my script, but I felt so tired and crappy that I barely glanced at it.  The next morning I wake up and am feeling slightly better.  Except that since I missed the day before, I now have to work a double shift to make up for what I missed. So I am at this store from 8AM - 9:30PM.  By the end of the day I am beyond exhausted.  BUT victorious, as I have done my first official presentation! ...After spending 20 minutes in the produce cooler of the grocery store practicing my script.  No one bought anything, but I made it through without any major mishaps.  Wahoo!

The next day we are back at the same store and I'm there for a regular shift.  I do a two more presentations.  I actually sell something! I am NOT A TOTAL FAILURE!!!!! Let me tell you a little something about this store.  It is in da' hood.  I stick out like a white thumb.  And the people that are watching my presentations, they don't know that my nickname in some circles is "blackness," or that when I was a kid I wished I had hair like the black girls in my class because unlike my super-fine-listless-hair those girls were always beautiful in plaits or braids or twisted ponytails, or that in high school I went to leadership camp (and later was a counselor) that taught teens how to fight prejudice and bring tolerance and peace into our schools and neighborhoods. Maybe I was projecting (and by "maybe" I mean "totally"), but I felt like they looked at me as this crazy white lady trying to swindle them into buying something.  And maybe that's because I am a crazy white lady and I was trying to swindle get them to buy something.

found under google images of "crazy white lady"

Anyway, I seem to improve with every presentation, so I'm going to collect my guarantee money from this week and head into next week with an open mind and hope that things get better from here.  Because they surely can't get worse.  Right??

Bitch better have my money

Smartypants girl that I am, when I went to open a new savings account early this year, I researched online and I found the one that had the highest interest rate.  (I wanted a savings account as opposed to some other kind of account so I could very easily get to my money.) The winner was CIT Bank because its rate was about 1%.  This is still pretty small I know, but it is higher than anything else I found and I'd rather have more interest than less. Right? 

WRONG. These jerks have been politely taking my money as I deposit it into the account every month, smiling all the way.  I should have known something was up when their website (which has all of the modern day security measures) looked like it was from 1994.  I mean, seriously.  Trying to navigate this thing I felt like I should be using dial-up. 

And now that I try to take my money out and put it right back into my checking account (oh yes, the very same bank account they have been oh so happy taking money out of) they have to get approval from the Commissioner or some sh*t like that.  

What does Batman think of this money transfer? Is Evil afoot? 

So I call them to say WTF where is my money? And they say sorry little girl, your money is being held captive until we say so.  And no, you cannot wire the money. No, you cannot have it until maybe a few more days have gone by. Yes we know your first request to transfer the money was over a week ago.  It will just be a little longer, dearie.  Muah-ha-hahaaa...

Dear Mr. President, 

Please pretty please with sugar on top, REGULATE THE F*CKING BANKS ALREADY! 

Thank you.

Sincerely, 

A Fan

Nerves of Steel. Yeah, Steel.

Remember that new job I just got? Holy hell, batman.

I've spent the last week memorizing (well, trying to memorize) this seven page script I have to know.  Now, I'm an actor, and I usually have no trouble at all memorizing stuff! I'll get a scene for an audition and look at it a couple of times and basically have the thing memorized. But this... this is probably the hardest thing I've ever had to memorize.  Harder than Shakespeare or Chekhov .  What usually makes a thing easy for me to know - emotions, dialogue cues, natural ways of speaking/train of thought - yeah there's none of that here.

So we're supposed to be "off book" for our two days of in-house training.  Mmmyeahh... that didn't quite happen. I got about half of it memorized.  Thankfully, they didn't fire me.  :)  Tomorrow we will be in a store... actually presenting.  fuckfuckfuck I'm so effing nervous I don't know what to do with myself.  I am having the worst performance anxiety I've ever experienced.  WTF.

Nerves of steel.  And by "steel" I mean "jello. "

I think I'm going to vomit.

Who is this person that gets nervous??? Not this girl.  I don't EVER have a fluttery stomach when I am about to perform.  I can improv my way through anything!!  *sigh...*

Maybe I should just quit.  I could just not show up.  It's only been a couple of days, right? But then I won't get my guaranteed money... Ok, Joanna, suck it up.  No matter how bad you are, they will still pay you if you just show up. So... you can do this.  Spend a few more hours with your script.  You'll be fine.  Just like Aerosmith says, you're gonna be F.I.N.E. Fine. (F*cked up, Insecure, Neurotic, and Emotional)

*SOB*

Is it possible tomorrow will not come for it's regularly scheduled programming?

giving back

This weekend I volunteered with an organization that has provided so much possibility in my life.  A lot of people have called it a cult, but if it is, then it is a cult that lets you have anything you want for your life and a cult I don't mind being a part of because they don't make you believe you are going to be taken away by spaceship to God after drinking poison.

to go to heaven you must wear Nike shoes.  for the spaceship. 

Seeing as how I'm just starting a new job and won't get any money from it for at least three weeks, I certainly do not need to be spending the $40 in gas I will be driving through this weekend (and tuesday evening) but sometimes you just give a little.  and karma usually then gives you a lot.  at least, that's the idea.  

Anyway, this weekend I met a guy who, personality-wise, I was TOTES crushing on! OMG we were just laughing and having so much in common and wow! zing! But.  He is just SO not my type.  Facial hair (yuck), slicked back, slightly balding ponytail (double/triple yuck), and a few extra pounds (not horrible, more like final whammy). And I was pretty sure he was crushing on me.  Flattering me, standing close, etc.  So Sunday I didn't have cash to park in the parking lot so I parked on the street.  FAR away.  And this is in a very sketchy neighborhood.  So I asked the people I was volunteering with if one of them could give me a ride to my car that night, since it was about 11:30PM and I am a lady alone.  Well, homeboy offers to give me a ride.

Ruh Roh

Presumptuous me, I think, "uh-oh.  he is crushing on me and it is going to be awkward somehow.  He is going to either try to kiss me or ask me out or give me an awkwardly long hug or something." Ha! None of the above.  Very regular, normal, average, coulda-been-anyone ride to my car.  Whew.

So then he sends me a friend request on Facebook.  I accept.  Homeboy has a girlfriend! He is not interested in me at all! His profile pic is of the two of them and if pix are to be believed (and he has albums full) they are totes in love! ... 99% of me is glad.  relieved, even.  and then the 1% (with all their wealth, power and country club friends) was devastated that she is unloved.  even by goatee-balding-ponytail-man.

humidity. top ramen. ex-boyfriend.

So many things to post about! Ok, so... first, my stripper class groupon is over.  I can't say that I'm really sad about that.  It was what it was for a month, but if I'm going to be a stripper who keeps her clothes on I don't want to be taught by Charlie Brown's hyena.  I'm back to my yoga, although I have another groupon for Core Power Yoga which is like regular yoga but on heated, humidified, sweat induced steroids.  After class I have to dry out my clothes for a day before I can put them in the hamper.

I get even sweatier than this. It is awesome. 

Next, I am trying another commission only job.  I will be hocking made-for-tv products live, in-store as though I were an interactive infomercial.  It "only" requires memorizing a 7-8 page script.  At least this one has a three-week guarantee.  Granted, the guarantee amount will buy my car about a half-sip of gas and me a cup-o-noodles/top ramen, but it is at least something while I get trained.  Oh yeah! They actually train you.  As opposed to certain life-saving-button companies that basically say "go get'em tiger!" and leave you to your own wits.  Orientation is tomorrow, so we shall see how that goes... wish me luck.

And finally, I may or may not have texted my ex* and told him I was thinking about him... I am SO WEAK!! He replied, but not in the way that I would have liked. Like, he replied basically saying thanks for sending the text letting him know I was thinking about him, but not necessarily that he had been thinking about me too, or that he was now thinking of me, or that he wanted anything to do with me ever again.  Of course, I made silly banter that he would have to reply to ... but ultimately he did not continue the conversation.  GAHHHH!!!! Why do I do this to myself? Maybe because I have people like this emailing me for a date and people like this to contend with on the man-candy site and I choose to remember a utopian relationship that surely ended for reasons which are now different because he is a completely changed man.

Remember the time when we were this amazing? 

Time to put on my BGP and move on.

*not the most recent ex... the one before who broke my heart.  repeatedly.  

conspiracy theory?

I almost don't even know where to start with this one.  I mean, it can't be a joke, can it? Or maybe it has to be.  It just seems too real, too scary.  Of course, I saw Blair Witch the first day it came out and didn't know it wasn't real.  What? They advertised it as real!! I'm also very gullible...

OK.  So this guy "OurGovDid9-11"* looked at my profile page.  And I just had to look.  Not only because of the cray-cray username, but because this was his profile pic:

admits he hasn't had sex in THREE YEARS

So then I start reading the profile summary of this crazy-ass mother fucker guy.  I don't even know how to summarize.  So I will quote.

The life you are living is a lie.
It is based on a series of events and value systems that have been deeply seeded into your consciousness, values that are dark, with events that are contrived.
Watch a video of WTC7 being taken down, and you will have no doubt that the twin towers were also demolished. Not one piece of plane wreckage was found at either the pentagon, or the supposed plane crash in Pensylvania. Our Government orchestrated the events of September 11, 2001.
The reason you are not allowed to know the truth is the same reason you are kept a slave, working a job that you hate, for less money than your soul is worth.
Control.
They have controlled you since birth, from finger printing you, to documenting you in number form (SS#). You are livestock in their global trade, nothing more than a unit to profit off of, as your children are sold into the exact slavery you yourself are in.
Dating is unimportant, if all someone is going to do is reproduce another human who buys into a false system of beliefs.
As far as I am concerned...
There is not much to say really, my childhood was typical, meditation classes at 5, wizard lessons by 8. My third eye and other chakras developed nicely. I spent summers expanding my consciousness, winters being reflective. Spring and fall being periods of transition.
I had visions of events about to happen often, and was able to see the true intentions of man on a regular basis. Some were good, most were of world domination and oppression of the slave class (anyone not in the world controller class). Independence of mind, is not independence of action, try walking around for just one day naked and see how independent the system actually allows you to be. It is a system designed to keep you a slave your entire life, and it is very successful in achieving that goal.
I would enjoy many leisure activities, including yachting, first class travel, and skiing the alps.
Have you ever placed an amp at the edge of a yacht in the middle of the night and communicated with the whales using a guitar?
I also play basketball, golf, table tennis, and guitar.
I am able, aware, and have actualized how much soul energy the machines are vampiring from humanity to build their infrastructure to one day take over the planet, as they have so many others.
Welcome to, the truth.

Ahhh! The Truth! I was wondering what people were calling the Mental Ward these days.  His childhood typical?  Yeah, pretty much.  I mean, I was certainly reflective in the winter (I have very pasty white skin) and spent summers expanding my tan, I mean, consciousness.  And so in his mind, the machines vamp soul energy from humans, but you love yachting and first class travel? What kind of yacht and first class travel do you use? Hand paddle and perambulatory? He doesn't list his occupation... I wonder if he works at the Post Office? And just to complete the tirade: 

What I'm doing with my life: Being a free radical, one that is changing the very world you live in without you knowing it came from me.
I'm really good at:Knowing that I know nothing.
Favorite books, movies, shows, music and food:The Princess Bride is the most entertaining book I have ever read. The Holy Mountain and Koyaanisqatsi are the most meaningful movies ever made.

He read the Princess Bride? WTF?? I will finish off with a few more pix from his profile because I am sure you are sick of reading about this deranged and likely serial killer's profile.

"I'm bringing phrenology back, you don't know where it's at, take em to the bridge."

"My toilet, I am unashamed of where I empty myself."

 Uhm, Kelly Slater , do you know that you surf on a crazy man's terlet?


*name slightly changed to protect the mentally unstable. 

Princess Joanna

It astounds me how many low-paid jobs there are out there.  I live in Los Angeles, where a shit-hole apartment in a not-so-great part of town runs monthly from $600 (for a bachelor) to $1000 (for a one bedroom).  There is an abundance of jobs that pay between $8-12/hour, or $12-15 for skilled, experienced workers.  Assuming you work 40 hours a week, that is approximately $20,800 - $29,120/year.  Before taxes.  Your take-home each month would range from $1213 - $1698 a month.  Let's say you want something extravagant, like a stove or a kitchen sink, your rent is conceivably EIGHTY PERCENT (80%) of your total income.   And don't get me started if you actually wanted to live in a decent part of town.

I am by no means a princess (although my father would disagree), but I will NOT work for these low wages.  Unemployment pays more than most of these jobs!

editor's note: Alice in Wonderland, not a princess

And if I'm being perfectly honest, some of these jobs paying $unlivable-wage/hour I wouldn't even qualify for!! I mean, I'm college educated, have held positions of management, ran offices, run the seating for one of the busiest restaurants in Manhattan, and played mommy for multiple children.  I'm not exactly skill-less. Buuuuut I don't know HTML, don't have any kind of teaching credential, I'm not bilingual, can't say I have past experience doing "extensive script coverage," graphic editing skills, and the list goes on and on... all for under $15/hour.  Puh-leeeeeze!

Just to give an example (and I know it was NYC, but still), 10+ years ago I was making $15/hour as a hostess at a nice restaurant. I just quickly surfed CL and found three similar positions.  One was $9/hr, one $10/hr and one for $12/hr.  Not that I would want these jobs, but my restaurant experience was so long ago I probably wouldn't even get hired anyway!

This job-hunting business is one of the most painful, grueling processes ever.  Like, worse than braces.  And I wore headgear.

Not actually me.  Some poor wretch from google images. 

Is it so much to ask that I can have a job that doesn't suck horribly, pays my bills and then some, and is flexible enough that I can audition whenever they come up and I get to sleep late some days? Or do I have to suck it up like most Americans and live a life of mediocrity and squashed dreams?

Maybe one day (a long time from now) I'll give up the dream and marry for money. You know, because there's tons of guys looking for a trophy wife over 30...

yeah... she's really into him. 

*to be fair, there are jobs out there that I would qualify for that would pay in the $60-100K range, but I would have to sell my soul to some gawd-awful company that would bleed my dry emotionally.  And I just don't like crying on the way to work.  It smears my mascara. 

B-List BFF

I worked a temporary job over the weekend stuffing envelopes.  A *VERY* awesome company Milk and Honey Shoes run by a sweet funny young woman who overwhelmed herself with a living social deal.  She needed a few extra hands on deck and we were paid accordingly... meaning, considering we were literally stuffing envelopes we were paid well for the type of work, but considering how much I usually make at a job it was pennies.  So, it was a few extra bucks over the weekend but not a career move. Although if there were free shoes involved... I might just have to reconsider.

*drool*

Well, there was this one guy there that had the sense of desperation about him financially.  He needed to be paid daily rather than after the whole weekend so that he could eat over the weekend.  Now, I don't judge that because I have been there.  But this is the same guy that was all name-droppy with who he lives with and who his BFF is.  Roomie is a working actor on some TV show and BFF is at least B List having been on multiple shows as a series regular/lead.  Then he casually mentions all these other "famous" people that are his friends.  This confuses me... he apparently has written some TV scripts, but none of his famous friends can help him out? I mean, he was all, "me and bestie do this and that together" and "me and bestie are bestie's." Well, certainly "bestie" can at least get you a job interview/meeting, right?

People are so weird about the entertainment industry.  It is the most nepotistic industry that exists, and yet people don't want to ask their friends for help in getting a job! I mean, if you and I were both doctors and I needed a job, you'd get me an interview with your hospital, right??? Wouldn't you? Or if we were teachers and you found out that a local school district was hiring, you'd let me know, right???? Right??? Well, I'd do that for you.

Anyway, this guy keeps whipping out his phone on every break showing us some instagram pics of him and celeb-bestie, showing a pic of her drinking coffee and how he had to send her a pic of him drinking coffee so they could be having coffee together even though they were apart. (eye roll) Then, he made it a point of saying he had to make a phone call. Well, guess who doesn't answer? mmmyeah.  So then a little while later, he tries again.  Still no answer.

Listen, I'm reallyreallyreally important and I have reallyreallyreally important friends. 

Not to be undone, he points out that he stayed at her house last night so he could get to work easily in the morning because she is on this side of town.  "Oh, see we're besties, so I can stay at her house." Well, apparently this B-Lister doesn't mind that you are profoundly annoying. 

*SIGH* If only people would be as awesome as me...

Stripper Bootcamp

(First, hit play on the video above. Listen as you read this post.)

No doubt when you read the title of this entry you had an image in your mind that looked something along these lines:

Oscar worthy

Mmmyeah notsomuch.  Tonight I went to another class with my stripper groupon.  Apparently they are doing a Halloween show, and they will be teaching some of the choreography in class.  First, warmups.  These include pelvic thrusts and other gyrations on the floor.  The teacher is Chubbs, the one who sounds like a mix between Charlie Brown's teacher and a hyena, and she barks at us orders like "hips up! up higher! HIGHER!!!"

pretty much just like this

Next, and this is where it really felt like bootcamp, we did some "across the floor" work.  We did something called the "vagina monster" one way across the room, and then back across the floor was sexy-crawling alternating with humping motions.  I'm sure it was supposed to be sexy-ish, but it was more like this:

(for fun, google images "vagina monster." it won't look like this. )

Then we did one twirl combination around the pole, and finally we got chairs to learn some choreography. (are you listening to the song?)

Let me tell you, Chubbs is not now, nor ever been a dancer.  How do I know? On teaching the dance, there was nary an 8 count or even a lyric to put the moves to.  There was an occasional move that went to a word in the song, but it was questionable whether one would actually hit the beat at that moment because you had no format to go on, no idea if a particular move was supposed to be fast or slow.  And drill instructor Chubbs was barking orders all the while, expecting you to know approx 32 counts after watching her do it twice.  (if this is greek to you, just know that normally you'd learn 8 counts at a time) "HIP, HIP, BOOTY!" "FAN KICK, STAND, WIGGLE!" "WALK WALK, LEG, SIT!"

I left wishing the owner had been teaching.  She calls us all "beautiful" and "godesses" and always tells us how "amazing" we are doing even if we look completely spastic like a cockroach being sprayed with Raid.  Instead, we got the fatty-stripper-nazi yelling at us and in no way celebrating femininity or grace.  My 30 days will be over on the 11th, and I think I will chalk this up as a "learning experience" and move on to the next.