Monthly Archives: February 2012

The City of Boston Has Seen My Ass (and Loved It!)

Hey chicos y chicas!  I’m sure I have your attention with a title like that, and yes, the city has seen my butt.  It was a beautiful thing.  No, just kidding.  It was cold and extremely embarrassing.  But more about that later (yup, ya’ll have to wait!).  But don’t worry, it’ll be worth it.  Now I’m digressing from what I truly want to touch on today.  Stress.  It’s a bitch, but it’s something we all come into contact with whether it be at work, school, with co-workers, or friends.  Sometimes it’s a combo of any of these things.

Dave Grohl and his corncob pipe want to know whose butt you'd rather see, his or mine? Wink wink.

Now, I feel like it’s necessary that I tell you a little about myself, you know, like…as a person.  I’d like to think I’m generally a pretty stress-free person.  When I have a lot on my plate I just try to get it all done in an efficient and only slightly procrastinated manner.  And anyone who knows me would probably agree (though they would add that while getting anything done I’d be complaining about it, but hell!, what can I say?  I love to complain…hence this blog).  Very rarely do I get stressed to the point of not being able to function and therefore just decide to do nothing.  However, this week was one of those weeks where I had so much to do that I just sat in my room two nights in a row and did nothing.  Absolutely nothing.  I simply could not process the amount of stuff I had to do and I froze up.  Eventually I got everything done, but I was paralyzed and for no good reason.

Grad school homework was my number one priority, then came my paying job as a managing retail slave, then finally came the work for the company I started with a friend.  Now, if it were up to me I’d reverse the order of that list, as I enjoy my work as a marketer for my snack food company, but it doesn’t pay me (yet!) and paying the rent and getting good grades are necessary priorities.  So what do we do when we have bills to pay, work to get done, and yet we still want to create something on our own time (whatever time left that you can consider “your own time”)?  I’ve been so busy lately that I feel like I haven’t been able to cater to what I really love and want to be successful in.  And I know I’m not the only one who feels this way.  I recently was catching up with a friend and he’s trying to make music, work with a friend’s band, and get a secure job so he can do those things without being a starving artist.  Another one of my friends wants to begin a career in photography, but in order to go to school for photography she’d have to give up her job, and even if she apprentices with someone, she’ll still be getting paid way less than what she makes now.  Are we all fucked?  Honestly, it seems that if you aren’t doing what you love now, you’ll never be able to make time to do it, ever.

See, it's not all it's cracked up to be...

This is nothing new.  How many time have you heard some stuffy crusty middle aged lawyer/doctor/salesman talking about their youthful dreams of being a artist/writer/poet/traveler/singer/etc?  How can we change this trend of regret?  I don’t want to hit 50 and realize I’ve been living a lie and I hate everything about my life.  I am aware enough to realize that you can’t support yourself on most of these “dream careers” unless you are highly talented, as well as driven.  Duh.  But there must be some middle ground.  I don’t know.  Like I’ve said before, I don’t have any answers, I’m just here to put this question out into the world.  All I’ll say is that it seems that being a creative mind in the 21st century is a dangerous and daunting endeavour, but if you make it all work somehow, it can be highly lucrative.  There’s a lot of risk associated with doing what you love, but the payoff can be worth it.  You just have to be ready to deal with the fallout if you fail.  Sorry if that’s depressing.  I’m just being the realist up in here.

Truth. See, this is me being a realist, except in my case we need to replace solitaire with facebook.

Ok, since I’ve thoroughly depressed you, I’ll reward you with a story about my glorious hinny.  My new job at Chi Chi is very different than the previous retail jobs I’ve worked and surprisingly, I really like the company.  They treat us, their worker ants, pretty well and they seem to hire a pretty nice group of people to man their stores.  For once, I can’t complain (but just give it some time…).  Unlike the other stores I’ve worked at, Chi Chi relies very heavily on repeat client business, specifically the big spenders making appointments to try on and buy every season’s new collection.  In order to give these clients the best possible experience, as well as get their $$$ we hold parties at the start of every new season.  They come, they buy, they look great, and we make cash money.  Pretty simple.  These events have food, beverages, music, models, and other good stuff.  And balloons.

As a shift supervisor (basically the manager’s bitch), I have the power to leave the store during my shift in order to run errands for the store.  Of course, it was my job to get the ballons, because that’s what the manager’s bitch does.  And I had no problem doing this, mostly because I like walking around Boston, especially when I’m dressed like a pretty pretty princess.  The day before the event my boss talked me into buying this very flowy, very light, pleated dress.  It looked cute.  Until I went outside.  How many of you have seen the lovely Marilyn Monroe film The Seven Year Itch?  Maybe this will refresh your memory:

Not as cute as it looks. Just ignore Marilyn for a hot second and check out the creeper look on the dude's face. Yup, it's not as cute anymore, is it?

Anyway, this dress was the same kind of dress she was wearing in the film and looks great when indoors, but step outside on a windy day and you better be wearing tights made of wool or fur.  I had the skirt under control all the way to the T (Boston’s subway) and even while I was riding the T, but as soon as I was leaving the subway a gust of subway air blew my skirt up to my head.  Needless to say everyone behind me got a real nice look at my butt (at least I was wearing acceptable underwear and not granny panties…it could always be worse).   So I finally got to the supermarket to purchase the balloons, and by this time my butt was pretty cold.  So I purchased 8 very large balloons and was on my way back to Chi Chi.  Now talking a huge bouquet of balloons is not really good subway etiquette and it was a nice day (minus the wind) so I decided to walk back to the store.  Not a problem, right?  Wrong.  So wrong.  Essentially the whole half mile walk back to the store consisted of exposing my ass to the city of Boston.  For anyone who saw me I’ll say this, I’m sorry if I scarred you, or if you liked what you saw, you’re welcome!  But it doesn’t matter, because it was pretty funny, and everyone smiles at a girl with balloons (or does everyone smile at a girl who shows them her butt?) and after the whole affair, I still got a picture with a bunch of balloons, which was all I really wanted anyway.  But as a final note, the Marilyn Monroe dress blowing up thing is not as cute when you are the girl whose dress is blowing up.

An "appropriate" picture of my Marilyn Monroe dress and my big balloons.

 

And on a completely unrelated note, my friend and I spent Friday afternoon stuffing her cat into a Hunter boot.  It was too cute to handle.  Can you handle it?

Well, can you?

Talk to you soon, buddies, and happy weekend!


Busy Busy, Running Around This City

I’m back, finally, with a post for all of you!  I’ve been very busy, with school starting and beginning a new job, but I think things are finally a bit calmer.  It can be really hard to find “me time” when it seems like 20 hours of a 24 hour day are occupied by school, work, and homework.  It’s hard enough trying to fit all that in, but now it seems like I have to schedule in time with my friends.  It’s brutal.  But we’ve all been here before.

Perhaps the thing I’m struggling with the most is my new job.  I really like Chi Chi and I don’t mind the people I work with.  They’re pretty upbeat, and since the location is right in the centre of Boston it’s easy to make huge sales.  However, I’m not quite sure I’m in love with my position in the store.  I’m a shift supervisor, which means I do some managerial tasks but technically I’m still a sales associate, not a manager.  But that makes it really hard to discern where I land in the retail slave food chain.  I’m not just a sales associate, as I have the authority to boss associates around and have them do some of the tasks I don’t want to do (like cleaning the store in the AM while I do manager duties).  But I’m definitely not a manager because while I can open the store, I can’t close it.  And I don’t have the pay of a manager (which is the biggest bummer).  The good thing is that I have the hours of an assistant manager (20-30 hours versus the 10-15 hours associates get).  Whatever.  Personally, I think that the more responsibility you have at work the more money you should make, but maybe I’m just crazy with these newfangled ideas.  Also, the store “highly encourages” all workers to wear heels, aka wear those spikes on you feet or get fired!  I think my feet are slowly going from being made of flesh and blood to being made of iron and steel.

Bane of My Exisitence

Moving on, I dont have much to say about school, except that I have to read a new book every week for my English class.  I have read three Nathaniel Hawthorne books in the span of three weeks.  Be impressed, be very impressed (mostly with my patience).  Remember The Scarlet Letter, that book we all read in high school?  Well, apparently it’s still worth discussing in graduate school.  I misheard one of classmates when he said “bastion of puritanism” and went on a tirade about “bastardization of puritanism”.  Needless to say, my professor was impressed.  I’m now debating whether I want to catch the commuter rail out to Salem, so I can find Hawthorne’s very own House of Seven Gables and burn that motha’ down in an act of revenge.

I'm Nathaniel Hawthorne and I like to use quaint and obvious metaphors to discuss the human condition and New England Puritanical guilt.

Now with V-Day fast approaching, I’d like to breach that topic.  I’m not much a lova’ girl.  I think Valentine’s Day is an all-right holiday, but I mostly think it’s good for spoiling yourself.  I used the occasion to buy myself a new dress to take myself to dinner in.  It’s blue.  I look like a sexy beast in it.  But these are things you don’t need to know.

My "sexy beast" dress. When I put this thing on Katy Perry has to call me to ask for her body back.

What you do need to know is how amusing I find V-Day shopping.  I’m a very bad present giver and usually just stick to the basics on V-day, lest anyone get the wrong idea and think I’m actually attracted to them (God forbid!).  Past presents have included: a 3 pack of boxers (from J. Crew!), books, a poster, and a teddy bear hanging from a noose (that was a joke for a friend and it was a really bad year for me…).  Anyway, my point is that I don’t get crazy.  So this year I went into American Apparel thinking I could pick up a small tchotchke for a cute little gift.  As I was browsing through the store, one of the sales associates came up to me and asked if I was shopping for Valentine’s Day.  I said yes, and then added I was just looking for a little something. She grabbed me and led me over to this wall of t-shirts.  Grabbing a white t-shirt with an American Flag vertically printed on the shirt she said “I got this for my boyfriend.  It’s really cool and just kind of ironic.”  Now, I’m usually a pretty nice person and will just say something along the lines of “Thanks, I’ll keep that in mind,” but today I felt like being a dick and I rarely get such an open opportunity to mock-a-hipster.  So I looked at the shirt for a moment, then met her eyes and said “How exactly is it ironic?”.  She had no answer except for “Um…I don’t know.  It just is!”.  I bought some socks and left the store, shaking my head as I went.

Ironic? Apparently.

Talk to you soon, and Happy V-day, graduates!  Don’t let this upcoming holiday become a massacre (of emotion)!  Get it?!  I made a history joke.  I slay myself sometimes.  Here’s my gift to you, the gift of new Katy Perry!


A Moment of Zen

On break, from work, school, and life. Aka, my moment of zen. Don’t worry all my fellow graduates. I haven’t forgotten about you. A post for you soon!

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