Good Day Sunshine

This morning when I woke up I just knew it was going to be a good day. It's a rarity that I wake up refreshed and ready to start the day without a cup--or ten--of coffee. Rather than fumbling around with outstretched arms like a brain-craving zombie (yumm, brains! Perhaps with a good garlic white sauce? Watch your back, Paula Dean!) I felt prepared to play the part of sexy zombie hunter, the kind whose makeup always seems flawless no matter how much of the apocalypse she's been through. I went to work and clocked in at 6:25 am sharp, because I am a show-off and I always have to be 5 mintutes early. When I walked into the office I stopped dead in my tacks because up on the bulletin board was posted the holy-of-holies on shiney white paper. A notice to all retail sales associates (that's me!) that a new supervisor position was opening at the end of the month and any employees interested in said position should submit their letter of intent. This excited me for two reasons: being a supervisor would mean a huge bump up in pay which is always needed and graciously accepted AND my manager personally pulled me aside last week and asked me to apply for this position. As excited as I am to hammer this glowing list of illustrious and noteable attributes that make me a valuable member of the Apple Farm team (oh, and money is good too. Yeah....money....) I can't get my hopes up too high. There are 2 other girls just as qualified as I am. My best defense against these formidable foes? My charm. On the 18th my manager plans on holding interviews with everyone who submits their letters. I'm going to smile a lot, talk confidently and be as witty and charming as my que cards allow. ;) Wish me luck!

I've Got a Feeling

When I started this blog I promised myself I would update often so everyone could have the inside scoop of what's going on in my not-so-organized head (isn't this a promise all bloggers make, break, and eventually apologize for?). Well I won't be making anymore promises to myself or anyone else for that matter. I owe you nothing and I hope you've come to expect nothing in return. Well, not nothing. I would hope that I'm interesting enough that you look forward to reading my ramblings and expect some sort of creativity to spurt forth like a stabbed artery at some point. Even if it takes weeks. So what is my grand excuse for being a shitty blogger, much like an absentee father who only shows up once a month to take Jimmy to the movies and is usually late and talks on his cellphone through the entire film, eventually getting both Jimmy and himself kicked out of the theater before Kurt Russell even has the chance to escape from New York, then drops Jimmy off an hour before the visit is even supposed to end because he has to pick up his girlfriend Cherry from her shift at hooters? Well, dear reader--and Jimmy--I've been writing. I know that sounds like a terrible and fabulous lie, because let's face it, even when I lie I'm fabulous, but it's oh so true! I've been on a roll lately. Inspiration stuck its little lightning rod in my ass and I've yet to be able to pry it from my swollen cheeks (too much imagery? I apologize. See! Imagery! That's something writers use!). Yesterday I hauled my lazy bum to the Barnes and Noble downtown, put on a pair of black-rimmed glasses and loaded up on books about the city of lights and hookers that resemble Nicole Kidman: Paris. I sat at a small cafe table on the second story over-looking the town, sipped my free water (because even coffee is out of my budget right now.) and started taking notes. A few weeks ago I came up with this idea to write a sort of twisted coming-of-age story set in 1960's Paris. And damn did I pick a great setting. The time period and the backdrop fit perfectly with my naive misfits. Drugs sex and rock and roll anyone? Basically since the start of February I've been filling my notebooks with ideas, timelines, plot-points and character developments. So far I love what I have. I'm not bragging by any means (although we all know that outwardly I'm fucking awesome) because I'm not all that confident in my writing and more likely than not this will wind up just another angsty teen melodrama to throw on top of my trash pile. But that's not the point. The point is I'm writing! I'm putting pen to paper for the first time in almost a year and I'm letting the ideas flow. I feel like I'm finally doing something with me life. Right now Bad Romance is streaming through my headphones because no one brings the crazy like Lady Gaga, and that's exactly what I need right now. So I'm going to go put on my Lobster headpiece, grab my disco stick and let the crazy flow. Then I'm off to pick up Jimmy and drop off yet another child-support check. And yes, I will be deducting the frozen yogurt I buy him from the total check. Life ain't cheap. Ciao, darlings!