formerly a fearless temp

.i. cinderella complex

On my way into work today, my shoe came off as I was going up the outside cement steps to my building, which would be annoying anytime, but was made particularly wretched because (1) it was raining, (2) my forward momentum was unstoppable and so I stomped right down on the dirty concrete with my knee-highed foot, and (3) there were two people hot on my heels who saw it happen.

I am familiar with embarrassing moments like this one, and the truth is that most of the time other people are pretty cool about it. If you face up to your embarrassment with a rueful smile, like, "Not a foot in a puddle AGAIN!" then people are usually all "Ha ha! It happens to the best of us!"

Sadly, the people behind me were the kind who, in moments like this, respond with blank looks that say, "Wow. Lame explosion. So glad I'm nothing like her!"

And so that kind of stunk. And then. AND THEN. I made it worse by waving my hand in a dramatic way and announcing, "Don't worry, I've got it!" before hopping down a step to put my shoe back on. Why? Why did I say that? Did I expect one of them to snatch up my two-year-old Target brown flat and place it on my foot? DID I? Some small part of me must have!

.ii. tetanus tales

While I was at Target yesterday buying Enchanted on DVD (I tried to resist but lasted only one day), my brother called my cell phone. He told me this story that started with a night out at a bar and ended with him tripping over a bike rack while running across his yard, and was followed up by asking me when he'd last gotten a tetanus shot. I informed him that I do not carry his medical records on my person, and so he would be best off calling his doctor.

Tonight he called to check in at home and I ended up on the phone with him. He told me he'd found out that he was up do date on his tetanus shot, and I said, "Oh, so you talked to the doctor?"

My mother's ears, honed by her protective instincts, picked up this statement from across the room. "What? Is Jimmy okay? Is something wrong?"

"Is it okay if I tell her?" I asked him, because I had been under strict orders not to tell her the day before because he knew she would freak out.

"Yeah, go ahead," my brother said at the same time my mother said, "TELL ME WHAT?"

"Jimmy tripped over a bike rack and cut up his leg, and he called me yesterday to find out if he was up to date on his tetanus."

My mother said, "Well, I have no idea if he is!"

And then I said (and I feel kind of bad about this after the fact), "Well, he's been feeling kind of weird, like, when he bites into something, sometimes he can't open his mouth back up."

"Tell her I've been having muscle spasms," Jimmy piped in over the phone.

"And he's been having muscle spasms," I said.

"Oh my God!" my mother said.

"What's that, Jim?" I said into the phone, "And you've got a fever?"

"He needs to go to a doctor! Is there on call down there in Texas? He needs to go to on call!"

And then I told her that we were kidding, and she almost threw the meatloaf she was mixing together right at my head.

.iii. scout status

The last time I updated I think I was all in a tizzy over my little cat Scout. I am happy to report that she's doing better, though not fully recovered. We're giving her pain medication and her leg seems to be getting better by the day. So that's good!

I am like a black hole of coordination or something. Last November I went out to watch my cousin Emma while my aunt packed up her house, and my aunt proceeded to fall off a chair while taking down some curtains and broke her foot. Today? Went out there to babysit while she went off for a fun day with friends and she slipped and broke her arm before she could walk out the door.

( this got rather long )

I woke up to the sound of screamed obscenities, which was nice. Isn't that the way everyone likes to start their day? We got a new dryer last week and the installation peeps didn't secure the grey piping thing that runs outside, so that whenever we ran it, the hot air just blew into the house. Which made everything smell nice and morning fresh, but also was crazy hot. Writing this, I can't believe we waited a week to fix it, but then again, that is my family. You may all wonder where my utter lack of get up 'n go comes from, but the truth is, we're born and bred that way.

Anyway! My father was apparently trying to attach the new one this morning and wow, I have never heard him drop so many F-bombs in my life. He got wedged behind the dryer (not a fun place to be; I have been wedged back there a few times this week, trying to reattach the old broken one) and got a wee bit frustrated at the dryer, the tubing, the world in general and my mother in particular because she was the one that asked him to do it. And my mother was totally returning fire.

Anyway, no bloodshed. The two of them are sitting quietly downstairs watching a tape of the Mets spring training game. I think they're over it but I won't be sure until I talk to them again and see if they're referring to each other as Jim and Peg or as Your Mother and Your Father. As in, "Jessica, find out what Your Father wants for dinner."

Why did I write this LJ entry? I'm sure I had something more interesting to say. Maybe I didn't. Ah well, laundry-gathering time. Here's hoping that the grey plastic tubing is worthy of the drama its installation caused.

Breaking news: I have new hair! Very new hair! Very short, new hair! I'm still dealing with it and keep veering between Oh, It's So Cute and Dear God, Do I Look Like An Irish Round-Faced Justin Guarini? For my hair is pretty curly (though a smidge more relaxed than ole Justin's) and the fear is there. Everyone keeps saying they like it, but this is one of those situations where that can't be trusted because people are going to lie and say they like it even if they don't because, you know, does anyone ever actually say they don't like someone's new haircut?

Anyway. It's an adventure! It's modern, or so my hairdresser said! I think because it's longer in the front than in the back though I can't really tell. AND (extra bonus points) it's very low maintenance. So much less time to blow dry! New hairdresser also said I don't need conditioner, which is exciting and cuts the Jess Maintenance Budget a bit.

In other news: I think one of the maintenance dudes in my office building likes me. Which would be okay, except he's not so much studly heavy-lifting maintenance guy as non-verbal, shifty-eyed vacuum dude. I was in the elevator with him once last week and he held the elevator for someone who didn't end up coming on the elevator with us and I said something about how it was a nice gesture and we exchanged pleasantries about the weather, etc. Now he keeps staring at me whenever we run into each other! Today I had to call building maintenance because Mr. OCD Boss noticed a few salt deposits under his desk and needed them vacuumed up IMMEDIATELY and so shifty-eyed maintenance dude came up with his vacuum. It was awkward because he kept looking at me like he had something to say but never said anything. So I just sat there and did my best to avoid eye contact without being rude while answering the phones at a dull roar since the commercial vacuum sounded not unlike a jet during takeoff. "[UNPRONOUNCEABLE FIRM NAME]!!!!....WHAT?....WHAT??....HE'S NOT -- HE'S NOT HERE, CAN I PUT YOU THROUGH TO HIS VOICEMAIL??"

Anyway. I hope I don't sound mean or anything because I'm sure the guy is a nice guy and everything, but he just doesn't seem like he's all there. Which would be fitting, for my one male admirer in my fourteen-floor office building to be someone a few cards short of a full deck. And really, what would we talk about? He vacuums for a living! I hate vacuuming! It could never work.

Thinking about this, I wonder if my parking garage attendant looks upon me, as I flail about helplessly half-leaning out of my ghetto station wagon, with the same benevolent caution I do shifty-eyed vacuum dude. Something to ponder.

Tonight I went out to dinner with my parents, as I do almost every Friday night because I am a BIG FAT LOSER, and our waiter looked like he'd been plucked from the background of some scene in the Godfather. The hair, the flair, the whole nine. The restaurant was Italian and made all of its waiters dress up in vests and bow ties and all that, which just added to the mystique. And! We were right near the back of the restaurant and all of the busboys and waiters were handing these huge wads of money back and forth and talking on this pay phone and it was all very Corleone.

And I think that's all for now. Except! I FORGOT ABOUT THE NBA ALL STAR THING! I may commit ritual suicide. Or just mope for the rest of the evening. I am SUCH A MASSIVE TARD! Dammit.

Off to read people's responses to the NBA thang...

My brother is embarking on a quest to stay awake for seventy hours because he read somewhere that at that point one becomes clinically insane. We're all laughing at him because, except for my mother, there is no one who loves to sleep more than this boy. When he was a little kid, babysitters would come over to watch us and before it was even his bedtime, he'd get up, gather his action figures, and tromp up the stairs in his footie pajamas without even being asked to.

I was the annoying babysitting charge who refused to sleep. I remember being eight and lying on the floor in the living room watching American Gladiators next to my snoozing babysitter.

Anyway! So, he's going to try to stay up until sometime in the mid-afternoon on Thursday. I will keep you posted as to whether he succeeds.

In other news: I got the temp job! I know, isn't this exciting? In that completely non-exciting way? Whatever. My Skeevy Temp Agency is trying to swindle me out of a dollar an hour but I'm just too lazy to fight them. What spirit! What gumption! What all-out apathy!

Anyway. The other exciting event of the day was an afternoon viewing of Chicago, which was FABULOUS. I so thoroughly enjoyed it. Fun stuff!

Also thoroughly enjoyed today: The canceled sitcom Two Guys and a Girl, now in syndication on the WE network. Does anyone else out there heart that show except for me? Anyone? I seem to recall critics thinking it sucked, but man, it cracks me up! And I swear, the fact that Nation Fillion is a regular for the bulk of the episodes near the end of the series has NOTHING to do with my intense love for the show. Okay, maybe a little bit. A smidge. Also, it's just plain funny stuff!

Although it does sometimes hit a little too close to home, what with the freaky neighbor who has forty cats, is socially awkward, and wildly curly hair. Every time I see her I think, "Dude, that is SO ME!"

The only heartening thing is that near the end of the series she hooks up with Berg, played by That Guy From Fifteen. So there's hope!

It's crazy here! Two feet already and still stuff coming down and, of course, I have a job interview tomorrow morning! For a job I don't particularly want (it's a secretarial position with a long commute at a place where a friend of mine worked and hated, not to mention the fact that the job description asked for candidates who could "think outside the secretarial box," which could mean more autonomy or, you know, more waiting on higher-ups hand and foot), but, you know. I should probably go. I will have to dig out the moderately ghetto electric blue station wagon since it has not earned a place in the garage, and conceivably do something with my hair, and allow extra time for the commute because who knows how the roads will be, so I guess I should leave for my 10AM interview in about twenty minutes.

Ooh, maybe they'll be closed! It would be like a snow day. That would be nice.

Also Re: Interview -- Have chosen new Interview Outfit as the outfit I've worn to the past two interviews has done me no good! It must scream Unqualified, Unskilled Slacker or something. Because really, that's gotta be the reason someone wouldn't want to hire me! It couldn't be *me* as an individual, my skills, my talents, my personality! It must be my clothes! Perhaps I need new shoes.

Anyway, all my previous excitement over the snow is pretty much gone now. Or it should be, since I spent an hour this evening shoveling the front walk and will be doing more shoveling tomorrow, no doubt. But I still maintain a childish excitement over the fact that there's snow! And it's so pretty! And soft! Which is good for those of us who fall down a lot!

I, naturally, fell down while shoveling, but this was absolutely Not My Fault. I was clearing off the front stoop and kind of forgot where the stoop ended and the rest of the lawn began and stepped out into nothing but snow and fell a few feet. Again, soft snow, so there were no major injuries, save my snow-soaked jeans. And I did a truly excellent job clearing off the front stoop, if I do say so myself (and I do). Not that it means much, since the snow's still coming down and my handiwork will likely mean nothing tomorrow.

Went down for the Christmas Day gathering with my father's family this afternoon, which was a good time. Escaped all lectures until the very end, when my grandfather pinned my brother and me down by the door with Lecture #35B - You Should Really Go To Church, It Doesn't Cost Anything (HaHa). It may sound familiar; it's closely related to Lecture #35A - You Should Really Go To Church, It's Only An Hour Of Your Week And God Gave You Your Whole Life YOU SHOULD BE GRATEFUL, YOU HEATHENS!!! I think he went for Lecture B in light of the holiday, trying to keep things peppy.

For those of you playing along at home, there were no mentions of the joint campaign of the homosexuals and abortionists to take over the media (and then the WORLD!!), though a tiny plastic fetus was discovered in my grandfather's Kleenex Box. A good weapon in Stealth Freaking Outage, because at first you were all "Oh, it's the Jesus from the Nativity Scene!" and then you were all "Hey, there's a cord hanging from its OH MY GOD!!"

All in all, it was a nice day, except for the whiteout conditions on the roadways. But we made it home alive.

Christmas evening was nice. After Jim, my father, and I tag-teamed it with the snow removal on the driveway and front walkway, Jim and Dad hunkered down with some straight-from-the-can Lasagna (I know, how ew is that? But I can't really criticize.) while Mom and I broke out the Kraft Spirals Mac and Cheese Dinner (Why I can't criticize other people's culinary choices). Continuing with the gender divide, Jim and Dad played chess in the family room while Mom and I indulged ourselves in the Trading Spaces marathon for a bit, and then happened upon what is, quite possibly, one of the worst television movies ever. Naturally, I love it, and was SO EXCITED to see it on, to the point that I threatened to withhold birthday presents for The Brother (whose birthday is tomorrow) if he put up any more of a stink over having to watch it.

The movie was Borrowed Hearts, starring Roma Downey, Eric McCormack, Hector Elizondo, and quite possibly the most annoying child actor in the history of time. Now, it should be noted that I'm not usually annoyed by child actors! I love kids! I like to cut child actors a lot of slack, since they are kids first and actors second and I don't particularly like saying mean things about kids! But there's just something about the little girl in this movie that makes me think the most mean thoughts about her character. I kind of hate myself for it. Why do I watch the movie? You are undoubtedly asking yourself this (that is, of course, assuming you've made it this far into the post) -- the answer is that I really don't know. I've watched it every Christmas since it was made, and every time I watch it I am blown away by its suckiness, Eric McCormack's extremely bad hair, and Roma Downey's barely-there American accent. But turning it off is just so Not An Option.

And so I watched, cringed, guiltily enjoyed it, and my Christmas was complete.

And oh, how time flies when you're rambling about holiday happenings! It's past my bedtime if I want to get up in time to clear off my car, which I really don't, so I'll probably end up reading Harry Potter fanfiction for a good spell before going to bed. I am so very week and so very predictable.

I hope everyone had a lovely day.

I think Thanksgiving is such a lovely holiday, and that's not just because it's a day where pigging out righteously is smiling upon. I also think it's nice that there's a holiday where you're expected to do nothing more than gather with those you care about, think about what you've been blessed with, and, well, pig out righteously.

Anyhoo, I am grateful for more things than I can probably even name, but due to time constraints (The Brother is home for the holiday and I'll be cruisin for a bruisin if I don't let him sign on in the next few minutes), I'll be quick. I'm grateful for the roof over my head which is now blessedly bee-less, for the cats who inspired my screen name, for my brother who's always there to carry heavy things for me, for my mother who taught me to whisper in public, for my father who taught me not to care who overhears, for my grandpa who loves me even though he thinks I'm a crazy brainwashed fool (and vice versa, natch), for my Nana who agrees with me that potatoes are the most incredible food on the planet, for the years I got to spend with my Papa and for the lessons his life taught me, for my aunts and uncles and cousins too numerous to be named for always letting me know that I'll never be alone (whether I like it or not), for Anna who went to see 8 Mile with me, for Annie who understands why convulsing while saying the name JC is necessary, for Joanna the chronically late and perfectly dressed (I only share half of that description), for Kristen the Republican Bride, for the people I've met over the internet and have come to call friends: the fabulous Kaelie, first and foremost, for everything, for E and Mare and Amy for tolerating my small-city wonderment at InWhySee, for Shana without whom I would never have made it to the Groove (and I will be building a small shrine in your honor soon,I swear), for Helen who kept me going through countless paper-writing nights with her AIM regencies; for others who I may not know as well but who are always interesting and fun and funny and bright, who I'm always glad to see pop up on my friends list, who make me think and who have graced me with more small and large kindnesses than I deserve -- I can't name you all because I don't have enough time but everyone who's appeared on this page falls under that category.

I'm also grateful for popcorn, chocolate, Diet Pepsi/Coke, Joss Whedon and his trio of fabulous TV shows, Alias, General Hospital, cheesy young adult novels, Soapnet, snowfalls, good books, bad books, People Magazine, Neutrogena hand cream, the WB, my health, the really cool pink toothbrush I picked up the other day, my mildly ghetto car, and countless other things and people, not the least of which being, of course, JC.

And now I must dive into bed before the brother kicks my ass.

I went to New York! And got to hang out with the fabulous Elizabeth and Mare and Amy and had so much fun! They were all so cool and fun and nice and I had such a blast and I wish I could have stayed longer with them. I'm sure I made a fool out of myself and shattered any cool image I might have had by behaving like an utter fool and getting all giddy and excited at the mere mention of things like General Hospital and NSYNC and hot chocolate.

But I don't care! I had fun! I can only hope that after the meeting they will not refer to me as That Freaky Jess and if they do, I don't really care because I had so much fun! And it is, of course, All About Me. I will undoubtedly tell more embarrassing anecdotes about my behavior on the trip in the future, and so you are forewarned.

I was so sorry to leave on Saturday and wished I could have stayed longer, but it turns out that it's good I did.

( family drama )

Living at home is turning me into the sullen teenager I never really was. I love my parents, and I appreciate that they're letting me crash here, but all of these latent surly adolescent urges keep springing up within me, expressing themselves almost without my control, every time they commit that parental crime of, you know, telling me what to do. Well, not telling, more like suggesting. Strongly. With pointed looks and disappointed sighs.

New phrases that have become part of my vocabulary:

(1) God, will you get off my back?

(2) FINE! (followed by door slam)

and, let's not forget the old standby,

(3) (Stony silence, occasionally accompanied by either (a) eyeroll, or (b) the old long-suffering sigh)

If I get asked ONE MORE TIME about health insurance, I swear I'm going to. I don't know, use all three of the above in that order. That'll show 'em!!

The worst part is how they're right. I should be looking for a better job and getting health insurance. Yet still, watch me actively not do it. I suck! I keep thinking: graduate school. But for what? I feel like I need a spiritual retreat. Or a massive financial windfall. Perhaps both. Perhaps I need a massive financial windfall that will enable me to take a spiritual retreat in the vicinity of one/some/all of *NSYNC.

Note how it all comes back to the sparkly danceboys. Such is the nature of my life.

This post is sounding far pissier than I actually am! Change of topic is warranted! Onto happier things:

As all of you know, this week is National Temporary/Staffing Employees Week. Today I went to pick up my paycheck and, in addition to the dolla billz, I walked away with a CANDY FILLED GIFT BAG!! How cool is that?? Very cool!

I have been celebrating National Temporary/Staffing Employees Week by being a slothful employee and surfing the web early and often. Evidence of this is seen in the massive LJ survey I filled out while at the office. In my defense, it did take five hours for me to finish between projects, but still. I am such a rebel!

Such a rebel that I apparently break the laws of friendship, even. Suddenly realize that I totally forgot to call someone I'd planned to and so I'm off, and will leave you all with this question in the spirit of National Staffing/Temporary Employees Week: Have you given a temp a large sum of money tax-free today?