Dear Steve,

Always follow your heart. Never give up on your dreams.
Couldn't you just go to a regular school and get a business degree?
Learn to let things go.
You're funny. Do you think of all of this in your head? That's so clever.
Can you ever just be serious?
Why do you spend so much money?
How come you're so cheap?
Learn to let things go.
Embrace your individuality. Don't let anyone tell you anything different.
Why do you act so weird? Can't you be more like everyone else?
Get a job.
You have one? Get another job.
Don't let work get in the way of school, that's what is most important.
Learn to let things go.
Don't be afraid to open up to people. Show your true colors. There's nothing to be afraid of.
I don't like who you really are. Put your costume back on.
Are you afraid to let down your guard? Is this all a show?
What's the show and what's real? Can you even tell anymore?
Learn to let things go.
You don't tell people everything. You create puzzles for them to solve and then you get mad if they can't solve them and assume they just don't care to.
Puzzles aren't for everyone.
You need to get involved more. Network. Get to know people.
Sit down and relax for once.
Learn to let things go.
You aren't understanding. You don't give others a break because you don't give yourself a break. You don't trust others because you don't trust yourself.
You're young. Go out and mess up.
Don't let anyone down. They're expecting great things from you.
You've done great things already.
You've done nothing.
You wonder if you're the only one like this.
You are the only one like this.
You are not the only one like this.
Learn to let things go.

Such a Pro

I'm going to be published. FLYMF bought my Red Robin story and it will be in their March edition. So look out for it. They are also interested in posting the rest of the series. Except for Twist & Shout. They didn't seem to like Twist & Shout. Good thing I didn't use that one as my writing sample. Exciting, nonetheless. I'm published! I like to say that.

I skipped class and an audition today. I need to put my life back together. I'm not in any way being overdramatic either. My life had completely fallen apart. I had socks all over my floor that needed to be sorted and I had homework to do. See? Fallen apart. Shattered. I couldn't go on. I couldn't go to class. We were watching Desperate Housewives anyway, so its not like I missed out on some huge scholarly endeavor.

I'm still working on the homework. Hence, I am sitting here not doing it. My Aesthetics & Storytelling II class has become that class. You know the one. God damn it I don't want to get up in the morning to go to that class. It's Monday and I'm already dreading Thursday because I hate that class. Everyone has one. I really would have thought mine would have been Body Movement but I was wrong. Our teacher wants us to write all this really personal stuff. I have no problem getting personal. That's what I do right here. I'll write about whatever, no problem. But it's like no matter how personal I write, it's never deep enough. I could write about trying to kill myself because my family died in a plane crash and I have AIDS and she'd still say that I'm only "scratching the surface." Shit. She's going to read this I bet. I know she will. She'll find it. She's one of those teachers. And she won't ever say anything to me she'll just cast me knowing looks all the time so that the entire semester I have no idea whether or not she truly knows. And I'll see her in the hall and feel awkward and not know whether I should smile and say hi or just not or what because I know she knows I know she hates me. Oh I'm in trouble now.

'Till Death Do Us Part

Signing up for AOL is a lifelong committment. It's not like getting a tattoo, or getting married, or having kids. AOL is something that is with you until you draw your last dying breath.

A couple of months ago, after smoking some bad crack, I decided to sign up for AOL. It was fine or whatever. First month was free and I planned on cancelled after that. About 3 days into my free month I decided that AOL was indeed pointless so I removed it from my computer. At the end of the month, I called the toll free number to cancel my account. The operator was very nice and had excellent phone presence. She clearly must like what she does. That's good, because I hate what she does. For being so friendly and helpful sounding, I figured cancelling AOL would be just as easy as signing up for it. It wasn't.

This lady was, in fact, so helpful, and so friendly, that instead of cancelled my AOL, she gave me another free month. I don't think I told her that I didn't even have the software on my computer anymore. I was on the phone for about 45 minutes, so I didn't care to. Give me another free month, fine, I'll call back again and cancel. I've been on the phone long enough.

I call again. The man I talked to was named Tyaldhaslhajweaawie and asked me if I "aosdjasntarkjadsakjhdakdawotp" or something. I don't know what he said. But he did understand me when I said the word "cancel." Now, I guess I was a day late in calling to cancel, and had already been charged for the month. Aeremdasdamtad said that he would credit my account for the month so that I didn't have to pay. However, he did not cancel my account. He said I was credited but have to call again next month to cancel it. He asked why I was leaving AOL. I said because I have free internet and don't have a job to pay for AOL. He gave me all sorts of links to websites on how to find jobs. He asked me what I was going to school for. He asked me where I was born. He asked me how I felt about women's reproductive rights. OK, he didn't ask that one, but at that point I would have been ready for it. Thanks for your help Owndaslkdaspt.

But I still had to call back a month later. And I did. And once again I had apparently called after I had been charged. Well, the operator told me I had already been charged, which is strange because my credit card statement didn't show me being charged for a good 3 or 4 days after I talked to her, but what can I do? She started the whole spiel, and basically I told her I didn't want to hear anything she had to say. I didn't want to talk. I didn't want a free month. I didn't want anything. I wanted my account cancelled. So do it.

And she did.

What a nice lady. It's those quality experiences in customer service that really make your day.

Last Time Again

I change my template every 47 seconds, I know.

But I got html savvy! Ain't it nice?

And you can still leave comments, just click the number next to the title.

Not like anyone comments anyway.

Last night was fun. We went to Sam's party at Funk for some free drinks and good times. Mandatory coat check is bullshit though. The coat "room" looked like it's also where they wash the dishes.

Point of Clarification

The last thing I wrote. That wasn't supposed to be mean. People seem to have reacted to it the wrong way. I'm not saying I'm embarassed about my Columbia friends...OR my WMU friends. I just...am very uncomfortable with the idea of the two groups coming together. I've always had separate groups of friends, and I've always been very protective when it came to different people meeting each other. Do I think the Broncos will hate the art kids? Not at all. Do I think the art kids will hate the Broncos? Nope. Am I worried about my Columbia friends learning more about who I was, or my WMU friends learning more about who I've become? Well, slightly, I guess. There's things that I definitely haven't told people and maybe things are better with them not knowing.

I'm writing an essay for a scholarship I'm applying for. "What are your professional plans?" is the question. While many people will be writing "I want to help children," or "end world poverty," or something as socially relevant, mine is how I want to write for TV. So, will the people read it and embrace that my plans are different? Or will the National Italian American Foundation refuse to give money to support a television writer? Guess we'll wait and see?

When worlds collide

A bunch of people from Western are going to be in Chicago this weekend.

Do I want them to meet my Columbia friends?

Do I want my Columbia friends to meet them?

Ha. Are you kidding?


























no.

You know, I just don't get it

She's playing.

We'll miss you, Teddy

I really hate posting these obligatory "what I did over the weekend" posts. They always seem forced and kind of boring. Not my best work. Do you really care? Or is it narcissistic of me to believe that people want to read about what I did over the weekend? Oh, who am I kidding? You love it and you love me. Don't you? Please? Love me?

Well, let's start with Thursday night. Thursday started off with me not only wearing the legendary crabby pants, but also the crabby shoes, socks, belt, shirt, and underwear, which, incidentally, were certainly in a bundle. Then I decided that as much fun as sitting around doing nothing can be, I might as well try to enjoy myself. Which invariably led to going to get alcohol. The night was alright, I suppose. Wait...didn't I already talk about Thursday night? Shit. It was barely exciting enough to mention once, let alone bring it up again 4 days later.

Friday night was Steph's surprise party. Matt and I split a fifth of Skol, since that's pretty much what we always do, and Baggy had wine because he's french, and Jess drank everything because she's Jess, and Ashley probably had like a sip of Mike's Hard Lemonade. At midnight everyone who was 21 (besides me, I'm poor again) went to Bar Louie for drinks. I stayed and babysat the youngsters. I played them lots of music. Bad music that for some reason I was drunk enough to not only enjoy, but know all the words to. Cheers to Jenny on knowing all the words to "Dust On The Bottle," by the way.

Yesterday I got up and went out to lunch with Ashley and her mom and sister. I had to make sure that Ashley's mom was always on my right side and never my left. If you don't know why...oh who am I kidding everybody knows why at this point. Then I came back and went to the gym where I met up with Matt and Baggy. Then, since working out is good for your body, we quickly counteracted all of the lifting, rowing, and swimming by going to SLC. Speaking of SLC, I think my roommate has a problem. I think he's addicted. He's gone to SLC at least four times this weekend. I need to say something, I really do. Some sort of intervention. I can't watch him go down this road. It's like crack, that place is.

Last night we went to our friend Chris's in Oak Park for a party. Green Line is kind of a new experience for us. It was a fun party and everything, but the real adventure began afterwards. So, we were all under the impression that the Green Line ran until 2. Well, excellent. It certainly does run until 2. However, it runs west until 2. It runs east until....1:03. So we missed the train. Excellent. How the hell to we get back downtown from Oak Park without pawning our valuables to afford a cab ride home?

We take a cab to the nearest Blue Line is what we do. Excellent. Jenna calls for a cab, it will be there in five minutes. Five minutes later, the cab showed up. We run outside to the street and wave to him. He drives by. Fucker. So we go back in and call again. Now it's almost 2 and pretty soon the train station is closing and we will be forced to wait outside. Now, it's -6 degrees out, so none of us are really looking forward to that scenario. Call the cab company again, they say they'll send another. So a second cab comes and picks us up. Lucky for me, I got to sit in the front. I guess right away they guy was pissed that he had to move the newspapers, magazines, cups, empty food bags, shoe box, and god knows what else, so I could sit down. Then, we tell him we are picking up 2 more people. He is not happy. I wouldn't be happy either. But whatever, you're a cab driver. You lost and sense of ever feeling happy long ago, as soon as you had that extremely terrible picture taken of you that is now posted with all your information on the back of the driver's seat.

And he's a creep. And an asshole. And complaining that he could get a 2,000 dollar fine for putting six people in the cab. And also complaining that we should just have him drive us all the way back downtown. I need some clarification, sir. Do you want us out of the car as soon as possible so you don't get pulled over, or do you want to drive us all the way downtown so you can get more money? You can't have both. I'm too drunk to even listen to you complain anyway.

We get to the Blue Line.

Have you ever seen the movie "Alive?"

It's the amazing, true story of a Uruguayan rugby team's plane that crashed in the middle of the Andes mountains, and their immense will to survive and pull through alive, forced to do anything and everything they could to stay alive on meager rations and through the freezing cold. The only thing the team has riding on after losing so many of their good friends and family members is the slim chance of making it through alive and their faithfulness to God.

Waiting for the Blue Line last night? It was worse than that. It was terrible. My face was frozen, my fingers were numb, and it felt like my toes had frozen, broken off, and were just rolling around in my shoes. We waited a long time. A long time. I received my AARP card while waiting for the train. And it finally came. In the wrong direction. So we waited longer and longer. And just when we thought that all hope was lost, a divine angel ascended upon us (well, the CTA lady walked down the ramp) and told us the train was on its way. Ohhhh mercy.

So we got back in one piece. Alive. What doesn't kill us only makes us stronger.

We did have to eat Teddy though.

What, you don't know who Teddy is?

Well then I guess you won't miss him.

Classy-fied

Well it seems everyone was on top of their game last night.

Steph and Libby made out like 3 times.

Jess and I gave eachother hickies in the recliner while she played Kelly Clarkson repeatedly and sang along.

Everyone else locked themselves in Ashleys bedroom to chat, like we're in 8th grade.

Ummm welcome to college, people.

Then there's the "formal" that I'm not even going to say anything about. I could go on and on, but that's not cool because my good friends are putting it on and I will be respectful. I hope everyone who goes has fun, but I must politely decline my invitation. Thanks, but no thanks.

We finished our PSA today. It's...embarassing. Ok maybe it's not that bad. Maybe I am just overly critical because it's my own project. Or maybe it sucks balls and I'm just saying I'm overly critical to make myself feel better.

I need to stop spending all of my money. I'm running out again. But here's the thing. Last semester, I was a poor, poor, bastard. I couldn't afford anything except 15 dollars for groceries every other week. Now that I can do things like eat chipotle and drink something besides Skol and join a gym, well, I think I deserve to be able to.

Things Chicago could stand to have less of...

Pigeons.

Homeless people.

Rich people.

Insane cab drivers.

Starbucks.

Subway.

Tourists.

Taxes.

Save The Children employees

I could go on. But I won't. Because I have something bigger to complain about.

Valentine's Day.

Now, I'm not complaining V-Day in the same way that most people (or at least desperate single women who pretend they aren't desperate) compain about it. I don't care that there is a Hallmark holiday of love. Sweetest Day is garbage, I'll give you that, but Valentine's Day...well...it's just not that big of a deal. My point is...shut up about it. So you don't have a significant other. Who cares? Do you know how many girls I know that felt the need to go out last night, or at least drink, just because it was Valentine's Day and that didn't have a boyfriend? Pretty much every single girl I know. But here's the thing...they act like Valentine's Day is forced upon them. Like they are backed into a corner by all of these couples and this day of love and relationships is shoved down their throat. It's really not. If V-Day is such an issue for you...if you hate it so much. Then just ignore it. Going out to "anti-celebrate" it is only going to subconsciously make you feel worse than if you just treated it like it really is-just another day. There's no Valentine's Day parade. There aren't a million parties for it. You don't put up a Valentine Tree. The fact is, there's one aisle devoted to candy hearts and roses at the drugstore, and if you successfully avoid that aisle, then you've successfully avoided Valentine's Day. So you're single. Nobody else cares that you're single on Valentine's Day, why should you?

Chapter 5: Let's Twist Again

You know how sometimes you see a movie and it changes your life? You learn from it. You grow. You re evaluate your things. Well, for me, Twist & Shout at Twelve Oaks was kind of like that movie.

You know how there is always an inevitable direct-to-video sequel to said movie? Not nearly the life altering experience as the first. Second rate but still entertaining? Twist & Shout at Laurel Park was like that movie.

I had put in my time at Best Buy. Nine months, to be exact. Compared to how long I was at Red Robin and Old Navy, nine months was a long time. A baby is made in nine months. I could have gotten a girl pregnant on my first day and been a daddy by my last. After 266 days, I traded in the glamour of being a Media & Merchandise Specialist to return to Twist & Shout.

Things were pretty different this time around. I mean, a Twist & Shout is a Twist & Shout, but nothing could compare to the first experience. I, however, was not the only returning T&S player. Jason was the one who had informed me of the reopening. He was now a supervisor. And on my first day there Maggie (manager that replaced Kristine as the original store. Tried to buy drugs from Matt Rossanna) came to help out. And most importantly, it was the inevitable return of Andy. Slow Andy...

You know, Andy was great. He really was. One of my favorite people ever. And he didn't get nearly enough recognition in the first chapter. So I give you...

A moment with Slow Andy:

Brynne and I went up to visit Andy at Central once. We drank and had a jolly good time. We played a lot of games, including everyone's favorite...King's Cup. Now, before we started King's Cup we needed to go get alcohol. On our way to the store we saw these girls who were walking to Andy's apartment building. They were wearing jogging pants and tank tops. Clearly they had just worked out.
"We're drinking tonight if you ladies wanna join us," Andy said to these girls that he didn't know. They looked at us and smiled politely and walked on.
"Or, you could like, go run five miles. That's cool to," he added. He wasn't trying to be mean. He's the nicest guy you'll ever meet. But those are the things he says. Later on we were playing King's Cup. Once you get the last king card, you have to drink what's in the cup. Andy asked how many kings there were. Then we were on to categories. It was "Types of furniture." I said couch. Brynne said table. Andy said......

....


....light.

So that's Andy. Gotta love him! On with the show.

The most important difference between Twelve Oaks and Laurel Park, aside from Laurel Park being 15 minutes farther away, was that we now had frozen yogurt. That was the deal maker. Wow. I didn't know something fat free could be that good. Now, I'm convinced that it wasn't really fat free, and the fact that vanilla looked like a carton of frozen orange juice before it was put in the machine might deter some, but not me. We had like 20 different flavors you could put in it, including cough syrup and gasoline. The best thing to do though was to mix twist (oh yeah we had twist!) with oreos. I want some now. Words can't explain.

We had some new characters at Laurel Park too. There was Kim, who didn't like to do actual work but was still cool She quit. And ummm...Matt. Matt was kind of in charge of the place once the manager Jeff quit. I worked with Matt again later on at Pacific Sunwear. I've really acquired a strange network of work relationships. Come to think of it I don't remember any other people that worked there.

We were next to a Little Caesars, which made for daily pizza/pretzel trades. We were sick of always eating pretzels and they were sick of always eating pizza. It worked nicely. Business was just as slow as it was before, and for some reason pretzels were more expensive this time. We basically spent most of our time sitting around reading the Metro Times and checking out the cute waitresses at the Coney Island across the way.

Twist & Shout was the perfect summer job. Sit around and be lazy. Out no later that 9:15 at night. There were chairs for people to come and sit and hang out with us. I probably drank about 7 gallons of frozen coke in the time that I was there.

I started at Twist & Shout in June. By the end of the summer, hours had begun to dwindle. Now I was lucky to be getting more than one shift a week. The difference between my paychecks there and at Best Buy was a lot more significant. I decided that when I got back from vacation I'd try and find a second job again.

I got back to California and checked the schedule. Just one shift. Four hours. After getting back from L.A. that last thing I wanted to see was that my weekly income was going to be less than 30 dollars. Crap.

A couple hours before that shift started, I got a call. It was while I was in school so I missed it, but they left a message. It was Rebecca from corporate. I was too afraid to call her back because I figured I was in trouble. I decided I'd just go in to work like schedule and ask what Rebecca wanted. Well, it turned out it would have been a much better use of my time if I had actually called Rebecca to ask. I got to Twist & Shout. The gate was down. The lights were off. It was clearly closed. So I called Rebecca, already knowing what she was gonna say.

Twist & Shout went out of business.

Again.

Deja fucking vu.

I Was Famous Once...And Young

I wrote this for an assignment in Aesthetics & Storytelling II, but kind of liked it so decided I'd put it up here. The assignment was "What were your magical powers?"

I never had magical powers when I was younger. I mean, sure, I could turn invisible and sneak around in an oh so espionage way, but can't every kid? No. I had no powers...

...but I was a movie star.

Yes, it's true. At age 5 I was a hero starring in all sorts of Action/Adventure films. You've probably heard of some of them, such as "The Creature From the Refrigerator Box" and "Race To Get Out of the Garage Before it Closes." That was my hay day. I even did my own stunts. Why, sometimes I filmed 3 or 4 movies in one day. But hey, when you're doing what you love, it really doesn't feel like work.

In the summer we did a lot of location shooting in my pool. It was fun swimming with sharks and making those great escape scenes in the water. Craft services those days was excellent. A fine assortment of Ritz Crackers with cream cheese. Happy Meals on special occasions. I also did a lot of filming at the playgrounds outside of Ice Arenas. This was very convenient for my driver, since my brother just happened to have hockey practice at the same time.

Oh, those were the glory days. Still not sure where my residual checks are...

Ready Set Go

I normally don't succumb to peer pressure. Well, I guess except for drinking, drugs, social enagements, movie times, and breakfast, I don't succumb to peer pressure.

But I have gotten so many complaints that I haven't been writing in here lately that I finally just decided to do it to shut people up. So here you go. Are you entertained or does it suck? Probably the latter but I don't care. I have so much writing about my life to do for actual classes that not only do I not have time to blog, but when I do have time, I'm so tired of being self-reflective that this is the last thing I want to do. The kids still got bite, he's just got a sore jaw.

So I guess I'll take this opportunity to write things that just haven't had a place in any of my class journals. And also while I do this I'm not going to stop typing. It's a free-write sort of thing. No stopping to think what to say just blah blah blah blah blah.

Chuck Norris jokes used to be kind of funny. Used to be. That's about it. Haha "Walker Texas Ranger" haha washed up not-that-bad-ass-but-still-kinda-badass celebrity I get it, trust me. The irony is not lost on me. It's just not that funny. Except the one about how he stopped world hunger by eating all the hungry people. That's funny but only because it mocks human suffering. Haha human suffering LoL!!

What else to talk about? Well we are making PSA's in Production & Editing. That stands for Public Service Announcement for any of you that aren't that smart (haha Chuck Norris haha!). It does not stand for "Piece of Shit Assignment" like I originally thought. Ours is about the dangers of plastic surgery. Only it's funny because we end up telling people that the thousands of injuries and incidents related to plastic surgery is totally worth it to look better. It's a satire so don't be offended. Don't give me any guff.

So there. A post. Took less than 5 minutes. And look it's even longer than the little bite size happy meal french fry entries that you guys write on myspace.

PS. Spellcheck didn't recognize the word "blog." That's funny because this website is blogspot.com. Haha Chuck Norris!

A Letter

Dear Everybody In America,

Napolean Dynamite was funny. But you ruined it. And now it's not funny anymore. You said "Gawd!!!" and "Tina eat your ham!" so many times that it has completely lost its humor. Everyone and their brother has a stupid "Vote For Pedro" shirt that isn't even worth wearing on laundry day. No longer is it amusing to joke that girls like guys with "skills." In fact, each and every line from that movie has been impersonated (and usually poorly) so many times that I don't think I can ever appreciate it again.

Thank you, Napolean Dynamite, for the fun and fancy free humor that you brought to us. It is unfortunate that you had to die a slow and painful death.

Napolean Dynamite. RIP.

Buried next to Austin Powers, in the cemetary for movies killed by terrible, terrible impressions.

Please never use these words:

Supposively (it's SUPPOSEDLY)

Alls (Alls I know is you are an idiot)

Scraping

I'm Lovin' It

Well, I'd like to formally announce to everyone that I am, as of now, a professional writer. Yes. Indeed. Thanks to Google Adsense, I have made 1 cent on this page. I mean it seems like a lot I know but you have to remember that after taxes and everything it won't be nearly as much.

I should be cleaning my room. I have nothing to say right now. Except that I don't feel like cleaning.

This weekend was alright. I'm back from staying at my cousin's which is nice. Went out to a party last night. It was decent. Jeff and I rapped. We laid the hip hop flava all over that scene. I drank out of a Happy Meal cup, which eventually somebody ashed in. Looking at the cigarette butt inside my Happy Meal cup...it really...reminded me of my childhood. But not really.

Do kids still have birthday parties at McDonalds? Remember when McDonalds did parties? How sweet was that? Happy Meals, toys, purple Grimace cake, oh man...the works. I doubt they still do that. Do they? And what is Grimace? Birdie is clearly a bird. Hamburgler is a...hamburgler. The McNugget buddies are McNuggets. One would deduce that Grimace would be a grimace. But as it would seem, he is not a grimace at all. He is quite cheerful, actually.

I try to keep all of my entries as condusive to learning as possible. That said, a short visit to Wikipedia later I have found the answers we were looking for. What is Grimace?!?

In the first cycle of McDonaldland commercials, Grimace was the "Evil Grimace", with several pairs of arms with which to steal Triple-Thick Shakes. After that first campaign, the character was revised to be one of the "good guys", and his number of arms was reduced to two.

Today, Grimace is generally portrayed in McDonalds' commercials and merchandise as a sort of well-meaning doofus, whose clumsy antics provide a comic foil to the more serious and mature Ronald McDonald.

Grimace is a fantasy character, and not intended to "be" anything specific. However, ever since the character's introduction there has been much speculation (though much of it tongue-in-cheek) about his appearance. Because the majority of McDonald's characters more or less directly represent a food product sold at the restaurants (ie: Mayor McCheese, Fry Guys, Chicken McNuggets Buddies, etc) many have naturally tried to guess as to what, if any, food product Grimace is supposed to represent.

The old evil, four-armed Grimace

A common speculation is that he is supposed to be a giant McNugget, but his appearance pre-dates the release of that food. A better explanation is that he is a taste bud, though there are many more fanciful attempted explanations. In reality, Grimace's "official" role, according to McDonald's, continues to be to represent the chain's famous milkshakes. However, he does this out of love for the taste, and not because he is in any way a shake-based creature himself.

I hope this was educational for you.

Out of the (South) Loop

This is who I've been watching this week. Small cameo of my foot.






And this is what see when I look out the window.

Not a bad deal, I'd say.

I thought it would be harder to be away for a week. I felt like I'd be all upset like I was missing out on stuff. But to be honest, aside from being bored and usually kind of lonely, it's been pretty nice. Pretty nice to just be by myself in this cool place with this cool dog and not worry about people wanting to hang out or go do something or go some place silly with the entire group. Just me, the dog, and cable television. I've seen every episode of Meet The Barkers. Who wants to touch me?

I probably won't be writing in here as much anymore. Sorry. Cry a little. I know you are. Twigger probably just died a little inside. For that, I aplogize. But I have 5 classes this semester, and in 3 of those classes I'm required to keep a journal. That means I'm currently writing in 4 different journals, counting this. And since Blogger isn't grading me, it has to be the first one thrown to the curb.

Here's a thought. Disney Imagineers (the people that design the theme parks and rides, for those of you who don't know. Idiots!) quit and get jobs that mean something. Wow, that's really cool that there are over 3,000 parts in the 2 foot tall Stitch that make it the most lifelike technologically advanced animatronic robot. But...how about if you find a more efficient way to use fossil fuels? Congratulations on combining a centrifuge and simulator to create a ride in which you feel actual G-forces comparable to that of an actual space launch. Now go cure cancer.

Today was the SGA retreat. We had to come up with an adjective that had the same letter as our name. Sarcastic Steve, right? No. I decided to be different. Now everybody on the Student Government will forever know me as Stupid Steve. Talk about digging your own hole.

Classes are good. Critical Studies of TV will be a lot of fun because we do a LOT of watching TV. For the first class we watched the 5th episode of Battlestar Galactica. That was not preferable. Especially since it was the 5th episode, so even if I WANTED to pay attention I couldn't because I had no idea what was going on. And come on, Battlestar Galactica? And this kid that sits behind me is the BIGGEST douche bag I've ever met. When he talks he sounds just like the comic book guy from The Simpsons. You'd think he was purposely doing an impression it is that dead on. And he talks about the same shit comic book guy would talk about.

"You won't find a bigger fan of the original Night Stalker than me!" he says with a lisp.

So you know what this means, right? Now I'm going to end up being friends with him, he'll add me on AIM, find the link to this site, and read what I just said. And then I'll be embarassed and have to come up with some half ass excuse like "Oh I was...talking about someone else" to which he'll respond "No you weren't. Because that's exactly the excuse you SAID you'd use as a half ass excuse! I read you're fucking blog remember?!" Then we'll throw down and I'll win because I'm not as big of a douche bag as him.

The girlfriend search. I've decided that now is the perfect time to find a new girlfriend, since classes just started and I'm meeting all these new people. It's been going alright. There are definitely some potentials but once you take away the ones that you know won't like you, the ones that won't like you more than a friend, the ones that seem cool at first but turn out to be weird, and the ones that may or may not have made out with your roommate at a party, it becomes slim pickin'. The problem is my ideal girlfriend doesn't exist at Columbia. I want a girl that paints her toenails. I want her to take 30 minutes to get ready (rolling out of bed is just not enough effort and 45 minutes is too high maintainance). I want her to make fun of all my friends but still like them. I want her to have her own group of friends the way I want to have my own group of friends. She should want to kiss in public but hate when we see other people doing it. She has to listen to Top 40 music that I will continually complain about. She has to hate my music too. And I want us to always disagree on what movies to go see but always end up finding one that we both liked. I want her to make fun of me the way I intend to make fun of her. I want her to think Valentine's Day is stupid but still get mad if I don't take her out. I want her to not smoke, yell at me if I am having a drunk cigarette, and then take it from me and smoke it herself. I want her to be more of a girly girl than any of my friends would expect me to date. But I also want her to sometimes be lazy and go out in a hooded sweatshirt and track pants. She has to love people watching. She needs to be able to do shots of Skol and chase it with bottle water if necessary. And when we walk we hold hands and she swings them back and forth wildly like we ar 4 years old.

What's the point?

I wrote a huge blog but it all seemed boring and forced. If you really care about pointless anecdotes from my new classes or a story about my roommate and I watching the same deleted scene on a DVD 6 times and then fighting over the remote, just let me know and I will be glad to share.

I'm staying at my cousin's all week watching her dog. If anyone wants to come visit or hang out let me know. I'm getting bored, and I know people would love a chance to leave the UC. Maybe I'll order a pizza and get a movie tomorrow or Friday. Don't worry, I would do this early in the evening so we could still go out after. Dude, I may be responsible, but I'm not stupid.

Chapter 4: Part Two: It's Never OK To Vandalize Janet Jackson

Best Buy wasn't bad. I wouldn't say I liked it but that's because it was work. Still to this day I have yet to find a job that I don't dread going to. Even if I worked from home I'd probably hate it. Hell, if I got paid to write stories about my old jobs, I'd probably hate that too.

It was easy, I'll say that. And my hours weren't terrible. Usually I just worked a few evenings a week and then Sunday afternoons.

Now here's the thing.

Ever since the dawn of time, when Jesus first decided this, CDs and movies have been released on Tuesdays. Always. Always. Always. Now, the ads come out on Sunday. Yes. This is true. This would indeed be a most opportune time to advertise something that will be released on Tuesday.

Sounds pretty simple...right?

If you think so, you clearly have never worked retail.

(tangent ahead. Please skip the next few paragraphs if you don't want continuity of the story to be broken)

And you know what...if you have never worked retail, then I have a significantly less amount of respect for you. Well, that's no fair. Customer service. If you have never held a job that required working customer service, then you just don't get it. And you never will. Sure, you think you understand. Even if you try your hardest to actually be polite to a salesperson and pleasant to deal with. You don't know.

I propose that every American citizen is required to work some sort of service job before they turn 25. Be it McDonalds, Gap, or Uncle Ed's Oil Change. Something in which you have to cater to another person's needs. You'll learn more about cultural studies and human behavior in one year in customer service than you will in four years of college. But since I know that won't happen, and that many of you will never experience this first hand, let me lay it out for you.

Cultural Studies: All cultures suck. You will soon learn that stereotypes are indeed based on real life people. Racist? I suppose. But racist against everyone.

Human Behavior: People don't care about other people. They just don't. People don't say excuse me. They don't say please. They are sneaky and impatient and rude. And they will turn their back on you the second they see an opportunity for themselves to benefit.

Yeah, I sound a little harsh. Well, that's exactly the loss of faith in mankind that I feel everybody needs. And that's why everybody needs to work customer service.

Oh...yeah. About the sale ads. This small encounter pretty much sums up 90 percent of my customer interactions on Sundays.

Someone's Mom: I'm looking for the new Backstreet Boys CD.
Steve: Oh I'm sorry. That doesn't come out until Tuesday.
Someone's Mom: Well it's in the sale paper today! That's false advertisement!
Steve: No it isn't. It says that it will be released Tuesday.
Someone's Mom: No it doesn't!
Steve: Yes it does. Right here. Under the picture of the CD. Where it says "Released Tuesday"
Someone's Mom: Where is your manager! I know you have the CD!
Steve: He's on lunch. But he'd say the same thing.
Someone's Mom: Well maybe I'll just call the Better Business Bureau.

Sorry to tell you, but I am not John Frey. This story is not embellished at all. These things happen.

But let's get to the good part of the story. The day everything turned around.

It all started when Nick picked up a black marker. With that sharpie, he marked my fate. Well, not fate. I mean it was a part time job at Best Buy, so whatever happened was clearly not going to change my life in any drastic way, but I digress.

We had posters on the end of every CD and movie aisle. Gladiator, Scary Movie, Charlie's Angels, Britney Spears, Dave Matthews Band...

...Janet Jackson.

Nick thought he would be funny, so he scribbled all over the Dave Matthews poster. Then he gave Janet Jackson a huge hairy mole. After he did this he showed me his work. I really didn't care that much. I was farming (alphabetizing the CD section) and really didn't like being taken out of my zen organization time. Back to farming I went. A little while later, I was on the computer looking something up and Nick's marker was right there. For no reason whatsoever, I picked it up and started carrying it around with me. Oops.

A few days later, I was called into the security office in regards to the vandalizing that occurred. The funny thing is that even though the Dave Matthews poster was more destroyed than the Janet Jackson poster, it was only Miss Jackson (if your nasty) who the security guard seemed to care about. Ironically, his name was on the back of that poster, which meant that once it was taken down, it was his to keep.

As luck would have it, they didn't have any footage of the posters being defaced (Hint: If you ever want to steal anything from the Best Buy in Novi, Michigan, there is apparently a huge area in the South East corner of the music department where security cameras do not go. Have at it). But there was, however, footage of me walking around with a black marker. Suspicious.

I explained it wasn't me but security guy didn't seem to believe me. I didn't care what he thought. He worked for security at Best Buy. Like I was afraid of him. After that, it seemed that I couldn't be trusted with anything. If I untucked my shirt before I left, I was asked to show my belt so that they knew I wasn't taking anything (something that no one else was ever asked to do). I was no longer scheduled to close alone. And I was barely ever assigned to work with movies or CDs.

The funny thing is that I was never explicitly reprimanded or warned. After that meeting with security guy, nothing else was ever called to my attention. But you could tell they were just waiting for me to do something wrong. That's when I started to hate Best Buy.

Then one day I got a phone call from Jason, a guy from Twist & Shout. They had reopened! At a different mall, yes, but alive and kicking nonetheless. He told me that he had gotten a job at the new one, and they were looking for more people. Would I be interested?

Would I be interested? Heck yes I would be interested! But what about Best Buy? That was the dilemma. I'd be getting a dollar an hour less at Twist & Shout than I was getting at Best Buy. After a lot of deliberation I decided that I would keep both jobs. Twist & Shout on the weekends, Best Buy during the week. Summer was coming up so school wouldn't be an issue. So I went to tell my managers.

Best Buy had about 97 managers, so I wasn't exactly sure who to ask. I went to Stan. Stan told me that I couldn't do that. Being part time meant that I had to work at least one day every weekend. I knew he was making that up. OK, I really had no idea if he was making that up or not, because to be honest I didn't read anything that I signed when I became an employee. However, I did not like what Stan was telling me, so I decided it was a lie.

When it came down to the wire, I had to make a decision. Two jobs couldn't work. Best Buy wouldn't let it work. I knew what I wanted. I wanted Twist & Shout. But was that wrong? Was that irresponsible? Taking a pay cut for a job that would be more "fun?" What to do, what to do...

FUCK THAT AND FUCK BEST BUY! I WAS OUT OF THERE.

Now all I had to do was quit. I've always been very mature when it comes to my jobs, and confrontation is something that I have never been afraid of. So when it came down to writing a note saying that I quit and putting it into my managers mailbox, then leaving and saying "See you tomorrow" to everyone when I knew damn well I was gone for good, I had no problem. No problem at all.

The problem after that was...would I ever go back to Best Buy to shop? I mean...would that be awkward? I was definitely afraid to return for a good two weeks.

...but the CDs were so cheap there. And I wasn't about to go to Sam Goody.

To whom it may concern...

I know we haven't talked in years, but I still have your name on my buddy list for some reason.

And even though the last time I saw you was High School, I always seem to know exactly what you are doing because I read your away messages Even though they don't concern me and I don't care what you're doing anyway.

If you update your Facebook, I will find out in less than a day. And if I have paper or some other assignment that I wish to neglect, I'll probably read your entire interest page too. Even the books.

I know what you were for Halloween because I've seen all of your Webshots.

I know everything else that's going on in your life because I read your blog when I'm bored

So yeah. We aren't friends anymore, but I know everything about you.

And I know you could say the exact same thing about me.