Am I on candid ******* camera???

OK. So, living in the city is expensive. Housing (rent, utilities), food, restaurants, transportation (bus and train tickets and gas) is EXPENSIVE. So expensive. It's not like you can walk all over the place to save money, either. So. expensive.
So, I decided to venture out into the job market. I took my bad self and my resumee with 1 error and took it to a local realtor. This experience, like many of my previous employments was ridiculous, to say the least. This man, Mike, was ridiculous. There was only one worker, him, in the entire store. He refused to answer any of my questions and told me he'd figure out what my pay rate and approximate hours per week would be. No prob, I thought. I'll roll with it. No big deal. I just want a job.
First of all, he YELLED at me day in and day out. I only worked two days, but everything I did was WRONG. But, here's the kicker: If I went to ask a question, he would say, "No questions. Every time you ask a question, I lose my concentration and I forget what I was doing. Seriously, I'm earning 50 dollars an hour and if you ask me 20 questions, I lose money."
"But, how am I supposed to know what I'm doing if you don't explain it to me?"---I said.
"I'll let you know."---Mike claimed.
Then, there was the peaches.
He kept staring down my neck....kept going....at my peaches. (some call them melons, but mine are more like peaches). I wasn't wearing anything revealing, either!
Then, he kept touching my hands. I was like, "Whoa man, get out of here. Stop touching my hands," but to no avail.
Then, more of the yelling. "PUT THIS FOLDER OVER THERE. OVER THERE........THERE.....THERE......ON THE PILE."---Mike
What fucking pile, I thought to myself. All there is is random papers thrown EVERYWHERE.
"Where?"--me
"DON'T ASK QUESTIONS. YOU'LL LEARN, EVENTUALLY"----Mike
I took a look at the papers, even though he told me, "Don't look at anything or tell anyone anything," and there were so many bills and unpaid invoices he neglected to pay. Lawyers and collection agencies kept calling and he either: lied or he hung up on them. This is absurd, I thought. Is this a real business?
Of course, I asked, "Is this a real business or am I on candid camera?" and he claimed this place was four businesses rolled into one. And he then proceeded to hand me 12 business cards that claimed he owned and operated all 12 of such business ventures. This is absurd.
The next day, he made me call up three (3) different phone companies and made me wait until they connected me to "someone in the United States." Even though the customer service representatives in the Philippines spoke perfect English, he made me wait for confirmation that I was indeed talking to "someone who spoke the same language and was from New Jersey."
Wow.
He yelled at everyone, everyone. Friends, lawyers, architects, printer cartridge sales attendants and ME.
Then, at the end of the second day, I asked, "Mike, how much money am I going to make?"
Then, he looked down, pondered and said, "I was thinking......Six dollars, under the table, no tax forms."
"Mike, I can't work here any more."---me
"Why not?"---Mike
"One, quite frankly, I'm stressed out."---me
"WHAT? I GOT A BAD EAR....YOU. GOT. TO. SPEAK. UP."---Mike, who has a "bad ear/an addiction to yelling and hearing his own voice."
"I'M STRESSED OUT. STRESSED. I'M STREEEESSSSSSED OUUUUUUUT."---me
"Well, sure, you're not trained yet."---Mike
"I can't work for 6 dollars, I got ends to meet."---me
"Well, I lost all of this time training you. It's a little unfair to me."---Mike
(I wasn't trained, I didn't do anything except write things down, print out an invoice, fax something and yell at Vonage reps.)
"You'll find something, Mike. Someone more suited for this job."---me
Then, he wrote me a check for my 10 1/2 hours work (at six dollars an hour) and then I peaced out of that hood. God, that was awful. So I went from unemployed to employed to confused to ulcer-ridden to angry to unemployed within 48 hours. Nice.

Updates

I moved from Kirksville to Chicago! I'm currently living in sin with my one true love, The Englishman!
It's been such an adjustment moving from farmland to the metropolis.
Let me make you a list of differences I've note:
Kirksville:
small
rural
so much farmland
not urban
field mice, at worst
three coffee places (one with AMAZING chicken salad)
three octogenarian taxi drivers, to make up the public transit
you can't leave your house without running into 20 people you know and whom you feel compelled to chit chat awkwardly with
republicanville, USA
one large wal-mart
friends (granted, most aren't there anymore either)

Chicago
large
urban
so many buildings
not rural, at all
THE LARGEST RATS YOU WILL EVER SEE
three coffee places....on my block alone (one with amazing atmosphere)
no chicken salad
thirty nine methods of transportation, buses, trains (all sorts of colors), taxis, cars, bikes
you can wander the city all day and not see a familiar face
democrat (blue state)
one satellite Target (small)
no friends (yet) :(
exciting

Hilarious Sci-Fi Story for you

To save face with my slightly nerdier constituents, I have decided to write (and produce and direct) a short sci-fi, aka science fiction story for you. It'll be hilarious for all you non-nerds or closeted nerds out there.
In a land far far away,
There was a, undiscovered by Earthlings, PLANET!
(cue background oohs and aahs)
In this planet there was only a small family. One of the members was a girl named Schmerica. This alien girl, Erica....I mean....Schmerica, loved to eat cookies.
Yes, I do believe aliens like cookies just as much as any respect-worthy human of the Earth race.
One day, the cookies RAN OUT. Since the planet was undiscovered and there were only so many resources on the planet, she was sad to find out there was none left.
"No cookies left, by golly!"---Schmerica said.
What was Schmerica to do? She didn't know anyone else, she couldn't borrow some from friends? There was no grocery store to buy some more.
What was she to do!?!
Finally, after much consideration, she hopped into her Unidentified Flying Object, which aliens just call space module, and went into space.
After traveling through a black hole (freaky, right?) she went BACK IN TIME! Here, she discovered Americans in what is now present day (The Year 2010). These Americans gave her cookies and she taught them an even better way of making cookies. With her help, the face of cookies was changed FOREVER. I like to believe this woman's name is Schmerica Fields. Aka, Mrs. Fields. She is an alien from the future. Amazing cookie-baking alien.

View from my front porch...errrr....my desk

As I sit here at the library, I notice many different things. Seeing such a wide variety of people can only mean one thing: my internal commentary is going haywire.
I love to people watch, especially when I have nothing better to do than sit here at a desk, waiting for people to ask me about EBSCOhost.
Right now there is:
A man of cocoa brown skin "stealing" the free paper than is available near my desk. He's very shifty-eyed even though he isn't stealing--it's there for your convenience.
An Aryan woman with light eyes and blonde hair sitting at a weird desk that is rarely used. She is wearing a pair of cowboy boots with a brown jacket and skirt. Very weird considering she is probably from the suburbs....like most of the students and this particular university. The weird thing is....she's only writing a five page paper (that's right....I'm that creepy that I checked when she scrolled.
In another corner, there is a group of beautiful black students chatting among themselves. Are any black people not beautiful?
Walking towards the circulation/check out desk I see a man making use of an Ipod. Clearly he's not getting any work done with Motley Crue singing in his ear.
There is a man here clearly confused about the weather. Leather jacket over a long sleeved shirt and shorts with an umbrella and a red back pack. Maybe he likes rain on his calves.
There is a girl who came in with a very tall boy. Very odd looking in a pretty yet ordinary sort of way. Her head's shaped like a oval round bowl. Flat in front, round in back. The bowl head didn't bring in any work to do. I think the boy with bowl head did. She did bring in water. Hmmm.
Man with the Ipod is still at the Circulation/check out counter. go home. you and Tommy Lee.
Man with shorts and umbrella is looking through the library catalog....coming up with....not much, because he's checking out some girl exiting the library. Boy, is he checking her out. Whoa man. Whoa now. Thorough.
Another man comes in, confused about the weather. Wearing a beanie, some white khaki shorts, a Columbia jacket with a shirt underneath. And a blue backpack.
Asian girls leaves with a yellow backpack, head down. Very sad looking. Today was not a good day for her at the library. Especially if she's leaving early, looking sad. Has given up---school's taken all she's got.
The paper "stealer" is BACK! Now he's shiftily eyeing computers. Going back and forth between the rows of computers.
Woman at the circ desk, checking out so many books. This late in the semester?!?!?!? No she "diddd ent." I feel that. That's real. I've completed many an assignment with the loyal, constant support of the drug known as procrastination. Oops....procrastination girl just exited the building in a hurry! Touche.
One lady is writing a paper, head as far down, into her book as humanly possible. Head so far. Can it get any farther.....nope. I don't think it can. So far....too far. HOW IS HER NECK HANDLING THIS. I can't keep my eyes off of her. She just shot a squeeze of water from her water bottle. Keeping hydrated. The neck'll thank you later.

More for later.....

Techno babble

Do you have a blackberry? Are you one of those people with an Ipod, Ipad, Ipole, Iphone, Ipoll, Isad. Quite frankly, I am sad.
I, President of the United Luddite Federation am here today to make it known that the only technology I own are: cell phone. No Internet connection. MP3 player with 200 songs max on it. And a calculator.
Even if I owned a blackberry, I wouldn't know what to do with it. I am so lame in those regards (and in other regards as well). I think I would put it into my shirt or coat pocket to protect myself against oncoming bullets. This act shows just how up-to-date I am and just how paranoid I am and the lengths I will go to protect myself against stray bullets (I live in Rural Town, USA).
I just am being passed by...at light speed...by all of this change in technology over the past few years.
I have a laptop....but, the only Internet sites I ever frequent include cnn.com, nytimes.com, blogspot (to write), facebook (because I gotta) and my email account.
Someone was talking to me about how much time they spend on the Internet and it's ridiculous. What do you people do on the Internet? After I check my email and facebook, the computer remains unused until tomorrow at 10 o'clock when I CHECK THOSE TWO SITES AGAIN. I even considered going back into the dark ages and getting a land line phone instead of my cell phone. All of the techno freaks beware. I am your worst enemy.

Library news

I, like any country-loving American, works.
And, like any good, well-raised and good mannered girl that I am work at the library.
Last night, at the library, I came in to work the late shift, a little unhappy about not being able to sleep or chill at home in my own abode. Here, I sat and took questions and read Chelsea Handler's latest book. Well, after a student came by, asked for a pencil to borrow, I said sure. As I was rifling through desks and nooks and crannies for a pencil (who doesn't bring a pencil to the library), I came across a veritable cranny of booty. I came across such deep treasures anyone of distinguished taste would dream about....mints and hand sanitizer. All free.
One of my favorite things in the whole wide world is deals and things that are free. It's better than sex. Getting things for free is better than theme parks, medicines, any high I've ever heard of and almost better than eating.
The point is: I found smelly-good hand sanitizer (I love hand sanitizing and am currently addicted to the act therein of sanitizing these hands) and mints. Well, I had seen the mints before (had one then) and yet many weeks later the mints remained. Well, I opened up this treasure trove and found three to four mints (my mathematical skills goes right out the window anytime I come across free shit). So....what did I do?
I ate a mint.
an hour passes.....
ate another mint.
another hour or maybe it wasn't even half an hour and I was craving the free minty glory.
So, I popped another into my mouth. Deal.
Then, there was only one left...and since I am a firm believer in not being silly and keeping a mint like that (free!) all by its lonesome. I popped it into my mouth and Kobe'd the Altoid box into the trash. Man, I felt good. Real good.
Too good.
Come into work the next day, refreshed (which wasn't a coincidence, to me...it had something to do with those mints) and a supervisor came up to me and said, "Hey....did you eat so-and-so's mints....I know you worked last night...."
Me: "Uhhhhhhh. Mints were there.....they might have been eaten. What's the low-down?"
"So-and-so's looking for them."--Super
Moral of the story: I had to make an extra trip to the local grocery to pay for a whole box to reimburse so-and-so for the three to four mints I had rescued from prison/the Altoid box.

Mountain Men

Back in the olden times (yes, as a history major, we describe it such) there were these people who navigated and explored rural, western America. These people, usually single men, roamed the wilderness (again, as a history major, I feel privileged enough to describe it as 'wilderness') in search of wealth. Most of the time, they were living off the land, battling Indians and trapping fur-covered creatures, probably with their bare hands. These men, mostly young, single, hairy (probably) manly beasts of men were known as Mountain Men. Well, now that 150 years has rolled by, Mountain Men have made their return: to State University, where I attend college.
Now, clearly, I am no prim and proper princess prodding around Podunk, Missouri. But, recently, I have seen an uprising of men who are doppelgangers of Mountain Men.
In the age of vegan/vegetarianism, pro-animal, pro-rights, pro-faux fur, or no fur, pro-hemp, pro-electric, pro-environment, there are these groups of humans cohabitating the earth with these people.
On one side of the spectrum, the vegans/pro-animal/environment hippies *no offense, really, I'm just getting my point across* while on the other side, the Mountain Men.
These Mountain Men, perhaps once a part of the vegans. Maybe they drank too many herbal teas and smoked too much of the "green goddess" that Mother Nature provided. They might have taken their agricultural science class a little too far. Perhaps they spent too much time camping one weekend and ended up relinquishing all responsibilities they had. I can just see it now, average, nuclear families coming up to this small small town wondering what happened to Timmy. WHAT HAPPENED TO MY TIMMY?? The wilderness got him. Yes, he's still going to class. Yes, he's chasing rabbits into the sewers, Timmy's mom. It's best you leave a note. Or, forget his face. The wilderness has got him now. The wilderness changes a man. Or, changes a twenty year old infant child with a bow and arrow.
Whatever the case, these hobos are wild. Wild looking, wild in nature and wild in their actions. Wild. Whoa wild. I've heard urban myths (with several complying sources) about trapping wild animals (except, in towns, animals aren't wild, they are partly domesticated) and then killing and roasting them in the road. In. the. road.
Another thing, they never shower. Never. No grooming. nope. Definitely no shaving. The extent of their facial hair is astonishing. The lengths it will go. Hair on top = half the amount on face. Beardy gentlemen prowling the streets at night looking for townie game to hunt and kill and eat over a slightly urban, slightly illegal fire. They always travel in packs too. They ban together. Or, maybe it's like a cult. A cult gathering of MOUNTAIN MEN.
Anyway, today, I almost was ran over by their "community bicycles" from the late 60s, probably stolen or "borrowed" from another Mountain Men. Because, in the wilderness, the strongest, and in this case, the beardiest, survive.